when people reblog donation posts and say "donate what you can", I really feel like people aren't actually internalising it. not all of us can afford to donate $50, $100, more than that. but i know for a fact that there are thousands of us that can spare $2 or $5, and that all adds up.
it hurts so much to sit here and feel the limits of our own ability. we're not millionaires. we can't instantly fund these escape attempts. but these are bids for life, by people who never asked for the hellfire being rained upon them by sadistic colonialists, greedy for oil and land. they committed no crime other than being born in palestine. and of course it's unfair, to have to shoulder the weight of people's lives when we're all struggling to get by as it is. but our governments relentlessly fail us, they fail to scrape at the bottom of their cold dead hearts for their last dregs of humanity. it is so, so unfair, but it is up to the common man to save each other.
please. look at this spreadsheet. find a fund that resonates with you. and DONATE WHAT YOU CAN.
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Imagine Annabeth and Percy have a kid early, unplanned and it kinda fucks with their finances so Percy drops out of school to get a job so he can care for the kid and support Annabeth in school. At first he gets a job teaching kids sword fighting but then he hears about underwater welding which pays well because it’s dangerous but Percy is a child of the sea so it’s much less so for him. His boss is even willing to give him flexible hours which means Annabeth doesn’t have to take their kid to class anymore and they can actually afford daycare (why does is it the price of a mortgage nowadays???). A huge financial burden is lifted and Percy doesn’t mind the work so it’s good all the way around.
Fast forward to when Annabeth is done her masters in architecture and lands a job at a top firm. They’ve got savings and have Annabeth’s income to rely on. Percy heads back to school and finishes a degree in marine biology, going on to research some really niche topics like how underwater welding impacts the environment and shifting from there until he’s a well known expert in the field.
Just them finding their way. Supporting each other and landing on their feet no matter what
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The ghost of a past regret
The tome hidden under Damian’s mattress continued to burn in the back of his mind. He knows he shouldn’t have kept it. Magic is dangerous, that of the Infinite Realms especially so. And there was no guarantee the book was even accurate; he’d never given the cultists a chance to make use of its contents.
But a single section from it refused to leave his mind. He couldn’t just throw out the opportunity it offered.
‘Danyal…’
–––
Damian had hated to admit it, but his twin brother could be cannier than him at times. Danyal had caught on to the harm of the League long before he ever had.
And he had tried to get out. To get them both out.
Damn him. Why couldn’t Danyal have been selfish for once in his life…
But Damian had still been caught up in it all. He was the perfect heir. He was loyal. He would not betray his family in the League.
And yet he’d been so quick to betray his brother…
Danyal’s shocked gasp as Damian’s knife slipped between his ribs still echoed in his ears when he awoke from nightmares. Sometimes, on particularly bad nights, he would swear he could still feel the blood dripping down his hands, and amount of scrubbing ever made the sensation go away.
He was sure Alfred at least had noticed the redness of his hands, but he never pushed for answers. Damian was thankful for that, even as he felt undeserving of the comfort. It had all been his fault.
At the time of the betrayal, Damian had felt little of the emotional weight. He was disappointed in his brother, but he was just doing his duty to the League. It would only be later that it set in, and the regrets continued to eat at him long after his family forbid all discussion of the traitor his twin.
What if he hadn’t fought? Would they have succeeded at escaping? Would they have met their father sooner? Would he still be able to see Danyal’s smile?
It was pointless to wonder. Danyal was gone.
–––
But perhaps not completely.
The siren song of the spellbook continued to call to him. The first thing to ever offer even the faintest glimmer of hope for finding closure.
For it contained a ritual to summon the ghosts of the betrayed.
Maybe it wouldn’t work. Regardless of the book’s accuracy, he’d never done anything like it before and wouldn’t be using the spell for its intended purpose. It was described for use in combat, tearing apart enemies with the specters of the vengeful dead, not for seeking atonement. Was changing the context even possible without entirely restructuring the ritual? He didn’t know.
And it wasn’t like he could ask the magicians of the Justice League Dark for help—even the most unscrupulous among them would still try to dissuade him and likely inform his father.
But how could he not try?
It might be wishful thinking to hope he would ever forgive him. But even if Danyal rejects the apology, it would still be worth it just to see his brother just one more time…
He grit his teeth and clamped his eyes shut as emotions warred against logic inside him. It was a terrible idea. He shouldn’t do it. He shouldn’t.
‘Damn it.’
The tome felt impossibly heavy as he pulled it from under the mattress with unsteady hands.
He had a ritual to set up.
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