reasons why ten is the worst

Endless Summer - Chapter Two

Pairing: David (Camp Camp) x Reader

Word Count: 1,470

(Chapter One)

Author’s Note: I am living vicariously through this fic because it is winter in Australia (although ‘winter’ is hardly the right word for it). I am absolutely loving writing this and I have the entire basic plot line planned out! Will hopefully have a chapter out every week until it finishes :) 


You were sitting alone in the mess hall, hands clasped around the mug radiating out the warmth from the coffee within. It was early - not even David was awake - but you had always loved waking up to watch the sunrise.

That’s why you hadn’t noticed the footsteps walking up behind you, and why the small cough caused you to jolt, sending droplets of scalding coffee spilling over your hands and wrists. You stopped yourself swearing, not wanting to set a bad example for who you assumed was a young camper, unable to sleep because of one reason or another.

Grabbing a thin napkin, you wiped off the coffee and turned around - a smile plastered on your face as you waited to solve whatever problem the mysterious camper had.

“Max?!” You were taken aback when you saw the cynical ten year old himself standing in front of you. “Is something wrong?” Immediately your mind jumped to the worst conclusions: Max had hurt himself, he was homesick, he woke up and everyone was missing.

“No… No.” He shook his head and couldn’t bring himself to meet your eyes. “I just need to ask you a fucking question, okay? And you have to promise to not speak a word of this to anyone. Especially not fuckin’ David.”

“Of - of course, Max. My lips are sealed.” You knew even approaching you this close to the start of camp was a big step for Max, and probably the reason why he chose to do it during the early hours of the morning.

“Were you, um, were you serious?” Max lifted his eyes up to meet yours, finally at eye level as he stood in front of your sitting figure.

“Serious when, Max?” Your brows were furrowed in concern for the young child, your nurturing instincts taking precedence over any logical thought.

“When you said you were a musician.” The strength and bite of his voice had petered off with that last sentence, replaced with what you thought was genuine curiosity.

“Yes!” You jumped up to your feet with overwhelming enthusiasm. Max stepped back in response, looking at you with an air of hesitancy. Apologising, not because you were sorry, but because you wanted to placate Max, you sat back down; ensuring you were once again at eye level with Max. “Any particular reason you wanted to know?”

“I just wondered if you’d, y’know, help me with it? Music, I mean.” You couldn’t bring yourself to speak, eyes wide and mouth stretched into a smile. All you could do was nod, stopping yourself from wrapping your arms around the kid and holding him close. “Fuck, you’re just as weird as David.” He moaned, massaging his temples with a free hand.

“Oh come on Max, David’s not that bad.” You had smiled at the mere thought of David - though you blamed it solely on the opportunity Max had presented you with.

“Uh huh.” He deadpanned, clearly losing interest. “Well, I’d appreciate if you’d get me out of literally every stupid ass activity David plans this summer.”

“Max, if you’re willing to listen to me and participate in at least three things David asks, you got yourself a deal.” Sticking out your right hand you waited for Max to reciprocate the action.

“I like the way you negotiate, Y/N.” Despite the lack of emotion (aside from annoyance) on Max’s face, he placed his hand in yours, shaking firmly. “But I swear to whatever god there is, if you so much as breathe a word of this to David I will run into the woods just to deliberately find a bear I can lead back to camp.”

“I look forward to it, Max.” Somehow you couldn’t wipe the grin off your face, the possibilities arising with the opportunity you were given to spend the extra time bonding with Max seemed to be endless. “Any specific areas you want to work on? Playing an instrument, singing, writing songs…?” You trailed off, reaching behind you to resume drinking your lukewarm cup of coffee.

“I…” Max looked over both his shoulders and leaned in closer to you, dropping the volume of his voice, “I want to be able to… Fuck, this is the lamest thing in the world, but, I want to be able to express how I feel? Through songs. Actually, you know what, forget about it. Just forget I mentioned it entirely, Y/N.”

“No!” You reached out as Max began to turn around and walk away, grabbing onto his shoulder. “Max, I won’t forget about it, ever. I’ll help you with whatever you want, trust me.” You met his bright eyes with yours, and you could see a remaining shred of hope that had been untarnished by Max’s cynicism.

“Hey, thanks, Y/N.” Max’s hands returned deep into his pockets and he inclined his head slightly to indicate his thanks.

“We’ll make this your best summer ever, Max. The two of us together, okay?”

“Yeah. Uh, together.” His voice cracked on the last word, as if Max wasn’t used to saying it out loud. He coughed and stood slightly off to the side, awkwardly waiting for you to suggest the next step.

Little did you or Max know, David had been standing behind the closed door, for he cared too much about Max to let him wander off unsupervised. His smile had faltered when he realised Max would go to you for anything before even gracing David with ten seconds of eye contact - but in David’s mind, Max reaching out to anyone, at all, for help was better than nothing.

Hearing not only Max’s insecurity in himself but also his want for an outlet for his emotions, David could hardly stop himself bursting into the room to sweep Max off his feet and scooping him into a hug. But your way with words, the comfort you just seemed to radiate, he had managed to contain himself: simply satisfied with listening to your voice as you started to sing.

He let his eyes drift shut as the soothing tone of your voice filtered through the semi-shut door of the mess hall: his head dipped back and he sighed with happiness, picturing you singing next to a smiling Max.

David stood there until he could no longer hear your melodic voice, deciding that knocking and entering the mess hall would be the best plan of action.

“Why good morning, Y/N and Max!” David smiled as he made his way to the pair of you - one smiling and the other scowling.

“Morning David!” You replied with the same level of enthusiasm, beaming ear to ear as he walked up to you.

“Fuck off, David.” Max greeted David in his own way, the mood he was in whilst you were singing had completely dissipated.

“Oh, Max. Watch your language around such pretty - uh, preppy lady counsellors!” David’s ears began to turn a shade of light red as he blushed, the slip up caught by an ever watchful Max.

“Yeah, whatever David.” He rolled his eyes and began walking to the door of the mess hall. “See ya Y/N.”

“Bye Max! I promise this will be the best darn summer ever!” You waved with vigour at Max’s retreating form, turning back to a still-blushing David.

“I heard what Max asked, by the way.” David stage whispered out of the side of his mouth, swinging one leg over the bench you were sitting on.

“Shoot. And I promised Max you wouldn’t find out.” With furrowed brows you took your bottom lip in between your teeth, chewing on it. As soon as you had gained some semblance of trust from Max, it seemed as though you were going to lose it immediately.

“It’s not like… You told me, Y/N. If anything, it was my fault - Max’ll blame anything and everything on me anyways.” A comfortable weight rested on your shoulder as David placed a hand there, letting it linger for longer than considered normal between professional colleagues.

“Thank you, David. I hope that this might be my chance to actually get through to Max, you know? I just feel that he has this heart of gold beneath those hundreds of layers of sarcasm.” Resting your head in your hands you released the tension you had through a sigh.

“Y/N, you’re the best dang counsellor I know! I believe in you and all your many, varied talents - Max is lucky he’s got such a wonderful counsellor in you.” A small smile graced David’s face and you enveloped him in a tight hug.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.” You murmured into David’s shoulder, unable to see the expression of pure happiness that had found its way onto his face as the two of you sat there, intertwined.

Student Council Prez [2]

Episode 1 - Episode 2 - Episode 2.5 OR Episode 3
Words: 3918
Genre: Fluff, Slice of Life, High School!Au

“You. are. insane.” Min Yoongi shouts to the sky in absolute exasperation.

The both of you are lying on the rocks of a river bank, next to a cycling park and far from the bridge. Your clothes and hair are drenched, the occasional person shooting the two of you odd looks as they pass on their bike but most importantly, you can’t hear any police sirens.

With the adrenaline slowing down and your heartbeat steadying, you can only choke out some laughter in utter disbelief at the crazy events. Maybe you’ve gone really insane.

Yoongi sits up, narrowing his eyes at you. “So you’re a drug dealer?”

“I’d prefer to go by…medication distributer.” You grin, rising to a seated position.

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Love Triumphs Part 17: Panels

Jared Padalecki x Reader

1100 Words

Story Summary: AU (I love Gen, and love her with Jared.) Jared and Gen have split up, but are still friendly. You, the Reader have recently started acting on Supernatural, and have fallen in love with Jared. Both of you get hate due to the fact that you are much younger than he is.

Catch Up Here: Masterpost

“Y/N, you’ll be fine.” Richard told you as he rubbed your back soothingly. “It’s just a panel. It will go by faster than you can blink, and then you can come back here and hang out with me some more. Jared keeps you to himself way too much.”

“Thanks. I just…I don’t know.” You muttered, not wanting him to know how much the idea of being in front of your fans was unnerving you. Especially after last night, and those two fans who had made it their mission to make you miserable.

As you readied yourself to head out on the stage, your phone buzzed in your pocket. Pulling it out, you relaxed a little seeing Jared’s name. “Getting groped by a bunch of female fans. Hope your panel goes smoothly. Can’t wait to finish what we started this morning.”

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Things My Friend Said While Watching Yuri!!! on ICE

-“I’m gonna have an entire stroke”

-“Fail! Fail! Fail! Fail!” @ Yurio during Hot Spring on Ice.

-“Oh my God Oh My God I’m gonna kill all the ad companies and then I’m gonna die” every time a commercial happened (we were using Crunchyroll)

-“I’m just going to entirely die”

-“Oh my god I’m gonna punch something” @ commercials

-“He’s very drama” @ Georgi’s short program

-“They have such pointy hands”

-“I want to be as extra as this show. That’s my goal in life”

-After the kiss™ she just sat there covering her mouth and squealing for ten minutes

-“You’re literal worst! Are you from North Korea?” @ Seunggil throwing shade at Sala

-“He’s Fuzzy” @ Emil’s beard

-“Grow one singular chill, JJ”

 Might head off to bed soon. I’ll get to the threads and asks in the morning, probably ! Thanks for following me, and prepare to deal with a possibly soft Kaiba ;3c ! 

So I made a website on Foodfight! for class.

BEAUTIFUL FACES!

MOTION CAPTURE AT ITS WORST

A CAUTIONARY TALE

THE MYSTERY AND SUSPENCE BEHIND IT ALL

ONE MAN TO BLAME

THE REASON WHY THIS EXISTS

Horrible Animation!

Witness the shocking visuals!

Corporate Espionage!

Unlikely theft, or scandalous lie?

Incompetence!

Experience one man’s shortcomings!

YES, THE WHOLE THING’S ON YOUTUBE

The disaster of a movie, Foodfight!, has developed a following as one of the worst animated movies to have existed.

Not only did it take more than a whole ten years to make, it had a 45,000,000 budget, and only made $73,706 at the box office.

The film was a massive failure, with a lot riding on it during production. The studio planned on making toys, lots of merch, a cereal brand based off of the characters, and even a Foodfight! on ice show.

Now, the animators who worked on this won’t even put it on their resumes.

Explore the rest of the site to discover just what the hell this movie is.


“It needs to be 30% better.”~Lawrence Kasanoff, Director

  • $45,000,000 Budget
  • 10+ years
  • 1.7 on IMDb
  • $73,706 at the box office

THE MAN OF THE HOUR

One day, producer at Threshold: Lawrence Kasanoff, or Larry, saw Toy Story and were inspired. “What if, instead of familiar toys, we made a film with familiar brand names that you’d find in the grocery store?” he pondered. Well, he expected the Wreck-It Ralph of grocery products (or rather, Casablanca, seeing as how there are numerous references in the film), but instead, we got an apparent case of “corporate espionage” in 2002 (which I personally think is a coverup for Larry spilling his drink on the hard drives), and then, “Foodfight!”.

Those working under Kasanoff, found him very… peculiar in his directing. Animators would get orders from him like “make this more awesome,” or “make this 30% better,” and often treated scenes as if they were live action, telling the animators to do “another take,” implying he didn’t exactly know how animation even worked.

A lot can be said about the director and his role in how bad the film is. It was his desicion to use motion-capture animation, while still trying to keep the Loony-Toons-esk “squash and stretch” style, even though that’s comparable to using a philips-head screwdriver for a flat-head screw. This is also why everyone emotes like C-3PO, and has a near-dead, lifeless stare.




God help me, I researched all this

Screened capped cause it’ll be gone by the end of the semester

Nothing Like The Rain

Pairing: Y/N/Rommate!Michael

Rating: PG-All

Request: Yes 

Words: 1.600+

Summary: Michael is a worrying mess when you aren’t home at the typical time after work and there’s a storm outside. But when finally seeing you come through the door all wet from the rain it revolves in hot chocolate and cute cuddles. 

“We’d prefer people to stay inside as we still don’t have situation over the weather. Trees might fall apart along with cars crashing because of the slippy streets. In case of blackout remember to prepare candles along with warm blankets to survive through the night.”

Michael leaned forward with a disappointed look on his face, his lips pursed and his eyebrows furrowing. Those weren’t the exact news he wished and wanted to hear when turning on the TV for the updates, and he leaned forward to turn down the volume.

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claralaclarividente  asked:

i want the K

WELL my good sir/ma’am/gentleperson YOU HAVE COME TO THE RIGHT PLACE

it turned out long oops

Send me ‘I want the K’

7. Romantic Kiss

Chat took a deep, steadying breath and turned to his partner, pulling his feet from over the edge of the roof and sitting on them, tea-ceremony-style. He rested his hands on his knees.

“Listen.”

She looked away from the skyline, kicking her heels, sunlight caught in her hair and her eyelashes. “Yeah?”

“I want to kiss you.”

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kaengeru  asked:

⭐️⭐️⭐️ for this fucker OR sarah the big softie boy

For each “⭐️” I get, I’ll write a headcanon about our muses.

How about I give you BOTH those things–

  • So I like to think Mary doesn’t actually realize they’re married for like a fuckton amount of time. She knew Enya’s married, ofc, but tuned it out after half a minute bc she honestly takes the minimum amount of interest in other people the majority of the time. She was too busy fucking w Sarah to get what she wanted for it to come up. When she finally found out it took them a good ten minutes to convince her they weren’t messing with her.
  • She likes Sarah more for obvious reasons; she goes off on these long rants to Enya like ‘why can’t you be more like him he’s wonderful you’re the worst’ when really she just likes the fact that at one point she had Sarah completely fooled where Enya’s never really put up w her bullshit.
  • She’d sell Enya out in 0.03 seconds to save herself, wouldn’t even question it or feel guilty about it. Catch her lying to another rogue then running into Enya a week later like ‘heyyyyy so you’re still around. Mmkay.’ Like she’s relieved on some level but also knows she’s in for some shit, ya feel.

zeroyalchilly  asked:

ayy, for the prompt thingy: tyvan, one of them putting snow down the others pants <3

(Amazing)

Snow crunched beneath his feet as he stalked towards his prey, back hunched, and snow balled up in his gloved hands, smirking wickedly to himself as he slowly approached his unexpecting victim. Evan knew that if he were anyone else, then they wouldn’t get away with what he was about to do to Tyler, but Evan had known him since they were ten and dated him since they were nineteen, and knew full well that Tyler had developed enough of a soft spot for him that the worst he’d ever be able to bring himself to do to him would be tackling him into the snow, and tickling and kissing him until he couldn’t breathe.

And maybe that consequence was one he’d enjoyed the thought of so much that it was the reason he was even tugging at the back of Tyler’s jeans and shoving snow into his pants to begin with, and the reason why he didn’t even try to outrun him when Tyler started cursing him out, choosing instead to grin proudly as he half jogged away, laughing over his shoulder as Tyler hopped around frantically before giving chase. 

Let’s talk about Metal Gear Solid

If you haven’t heard, I’m finally playing these games

I already knew a lot about this series thanks to reviews, retrospectives, parodies, analyses, memes, and gifs of Ocelot twirling his stupid fucking gun. But I hadn’t played any of these games for longer than an hour. Metal Gear Solid 1 in particular felt like a game I knew everything about before even touching it. I mainly just played it instead of watching the cutscenes on YouTube as a refresher and skipping to its sequels because, hey, I already own it

But I realize now that all of that analysis I’ve seen is from people who’ve been playing Metal Gear games a long time. People who’ve gotten used to some of the games’ weird design choices and who overlook some of the touches I really appreciated. So I’m gonna talk about that stuff, rather than being the millionth person to say it’s cool that Psycho Mantis reads your memory card

People enjoyed my Broken Age review way back when, and I feel like I should do more writing like that. So that’s why I’m here to tell you all about this old-ass game everyone’s already played

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I'm Okay - Stiles Stilinski Imagine

Lacrosse. Every boy wanted to be on the team, and every girl wanted to date them. It was the main sport at Beacon Hills High.Y/N watched as her boyfriend Stiles struggled to scoop the white ball into his stick. Y/N chuckled quietly. Stiles sucked, but for some reason Coach Finstock always put him on the team. Most people would be embarrassed that they are dating the worst player on the team, but Y/N felt the exact opposite. She loved watching Stiles play, he kept the team diverse and interesting. Y/N sat beside her best friend Lydia as they watched Beacon Hills face against another school from the area.

“I still don’t understand why you like Stiles!” Lydia sighed. “Grayson has had a crush on you forever and is like ten times cuter than Stiles!” Lydia always joked about Stiles and Y/N, when in reality, she would be just as sad as Y/N if the two had ever broken up.

  “You know you love us!” Y/N sung. Lydia laughed as both of them turned their attention back to the game. Stiles somehow managed to snag the ball and make a run for the other net. “Go Stiles!” Y/N cheered, standing up and started to clap. The opposing team’s defence refused to let Stiles pass, resulting in skinny Stiles being plowed to the ground by two much larger boys. Y/N gasped and pushed past people on the bleachers. She ran past Coach Finstock.

“Y/L/N, get the hell off the field!” He shouted. The ref didn’t stop the game, thinking Stiles wasn’t too badly hurt. But he was, Y/N could tell by the way he rolled over to his side. She rushed over to him, still continuing to ignore Coach’s screams.

“Stiles! Can you hear me?” Y/N asked calmly as she knelt down beside him. Stiles nodded his head slightly, wincing as he did so. “Where are you hurt?”

“My ankle.” He said quietly. Y/N looked at the ref, who had now stopped the game. Once she turned back to Stiles, she examined his ankle. Scott came rushing over.

“He’s hurt pretty bad, I don’t think it’s broken though.” Y/N told Scott.

“I’m fine. Scott tell the ref to keep the game going.” Stiles demanded softly. Scott just nodded and ran over to the ref. He knew Stiles would be okay, and frankly, he wanted to wreck the guys that hurt Stiles. “Just bring me to the locker room please.” Stiles looked into Y/N’s eyes, they were full of worry, but she nodded anyway. Stiles could get up on his feet with a little assistance from Y/N. She flung his arm around her shoulder, resulting in most of his weight leaning on her.

They slowly and carefully started to walk.

“Stilinski! The one time I put you in, this happens!” Coach yelled, even though the two were right by him. Y/N rolled her eyes and continued to get Stiles to the locker room.

Once they had arrived, Y/N sat Stiles down on a bench. She untied the shoe that was on his bad ankle. Stiles sucked in a breath.

“Okay Stiles, this is really going to hurt.” Y/N said, preparing to take of his sock. She gently pulled the sock down and off of his foot, revealing a swollen purple ankle. “Oh…” Y/N trailed off.

“Is it bad?”

“Um, it’s not good…” Y/N said. “It could be worse!”

“Just, stay in here with me.” Stiles pleaded. “I can get some ice in a minute. We really haven’t had time alone in a long time.”

“So, you don’t mind that your ankle is throbbing in pain?” Y/N laughed.

“No, I may not be a werewolf, but I’m pretty damn tough.” Stiles jokingly boasted. He kissed Y/N on the lips.

“I’m going to get help.”  

Work It Out

the long awaited sequel to The First Days Of Spring! go read that first if you haven’t already.

based on the album “Work It Out” by the always brilliant Lucy Rose.

word count: 5,3k

excerpt: It’s a quarter past two at night and I can’t do this, not at this time, not like this. Your spelling is still impeccable, which means you can’t be that drunk, but just enough to think that this is a good idea. I shut my phone off.




For You

If I’m gonna work hard, for you
And if I’m gonna take my time, for you
If it’s gonna be now, for you
Where do I go from here?

* * *

As soon as you walk through the door, I want to run away.

The coffeeshop is small and a bit grimy, but neither of us has been here before. It’s a safe place. We have no memories here.

In the two seconds it takes for you to spot me, all oxygen is drained out of my body, leaving my lungs screaming and aching. You lift your hand in greeting, letting the door fall shut behind you.

I close my eyes, lightning flashing across the backs of my eyelids. I can’t feel my hands anymore, I can’t feel my feet against the floor or the seat underneath me. All that’s left is my heart pounding in my ears.

When I open my eyes, you’re right in front of me, shrugging your jacket off. It’s June, but outside London is more autumn than summer. The air nipped at my cheeks as I walked here, my hands turning a faint shade of blue. The tea I ordered to warm them up is already getting cold.

I watch your hands as you hang your jacket over the chair. They look the same. Your shoulders look the same, too. And your collarbones. The only thing about you that doesn’t look the same is your lips, but maybe I’m imagining things.

“I’ll just go buy a coffee, okay?”

I nod and you head back towards the counter, your neck pale above your dark sweater.

There has to be a way out. Somewhere I can hide, somewhere I can disappear. A toilet I can escape to, a wallpaper I could melt into, pretend I never really came.

But it’s too late. You’re already here. I’m already wounded.

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.What the Fuck is Beautiful About Brokenness.

It may be poetic, but it
Sure as hell ain’t pretty.

All I know is that my parents quit
Sleeping in the same bed when
I was just thirteen, and that pops
Only sits through Sunday service
So we can have our suppers with
Sides of small talk and not sorries,
And that I end up eating alone most
Nights.

All I know is that I dream we are not
Dysfunctional when I sleep and that
I don’t even know what dysfunctional
Means when I am high, that my throat
Is burned and my eyes are dry and my
Left hand fingers have so many blisters
From smoking and crying and writing all
Night.

All I know is that my father is a good man
Even though he cannot let go and that my
Mother is a faithful woman even if she has
Been pursuing Jesus with two eyes closed
And maybe they do fit together hand in hand
And even if they both only misunderstand I tell
Myself it could be worse before I go to sleep at
Night.

All I know is that I miss the loud even if it was too
Damn much and a poker chip in his back pocket
Shouldn’t be enough to start a fucking war, and
She sleeps at ten while he’s awake til morning
And they have not had a real conversation in
Weeks, hell I can’t even remember the last
Time they fucking kissed goodbye or good
Night.

All I know is that if this is part of God’s plan
Or His self-proclaimed providence, then
The reason why I can’t carry my cross
Is pretty damn obvious, and I believe
In the scriptures and I have faith in
The miracle of love but I suppose
My vision is not in line with what
Jesus’s been thinking of. Good
Night.

[To KC and KC]

I told you I was aggressively writing fic

SO. This is. My first ever attempt at writing romance.

Yell at me if it’s terrible.

*sounds of rebellion echo in the distance as I fling this into JJ Abrams’ face*

(And hey, I actually gave it a title! shoutout to psi and hannah for giving me hella rad advice)

And Darlin’, You’ll Be Gone in the Morning

Ten minutes, forty five hours, and three standard weeks.

It is a strange thing that before this exact moment, she has never fully understood what “no light speed” means. The idea itself is ludicrous; something that may only happen to your sister’s boyfriend’s cousin’s father in a distant part of the galaxy and somehow involve Imperial spies.

“No light speed” does not happen to normal people.

That being said, they are anything but normal.

***

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Dear Pro-Lifers,

Ah yes, the time has come for your letter, my friends. Although I had intended to have this written shortly after my letter to pro-choicers, other things came up and I had to keep putting it off. But now, let’s have a chat.

Personally, I do enjoy debating quite a bit. I think it’s a great way to learn, grow, and brainstorm. It provides intellectual discussion (when done correctly) and gives the opportunity for those involved to do some research.

That being said, I feel the need to address some issues I have with your movement as a whole when it comes down to debating. Those problems are as follows:

Problem 1: When a large majority of you debate, you use extremely outdated or nonexistent arguments. This is a problem because they are not used to argue for abortion, and they are not reasons that people have abortions. Why, then, do you use them? For example:

  • “The unborn are not clumps of tissue!” - Fair enough, but let’s be honest: are terminology debates really important? Sure, some people want to use “clump of cells,” “fetus,” or “unborn baby,” but does the choice of words matter? We all know a fetus is a human, so who cares what someone calls it? They could claim a human fetus is a basking shark, but that wouldn’t change the fact that it is human. So why bother arguing over terminology? It doesn’t prove a point and it doesn’t move a debate forward. You can use “unborn baby” and I’ll use “fetus” - we’ll know what each other means. (My comments on the terminology debate also goes for pro-choicers. Forget the terminology and focus on more important things, please).
  • “Babies are just as dependent outside the womb as they are in it!” - Dependency is not an argument for abortion. I don’t know where this one came from, and I think it’s odd that many pro-lifers are “refuting” a non-existent argument.
  • “An unborn baby is human!” - Okay, yeah. We already know this. Why do you think this is a good argument for your side? “A fetus isn’t human” is not an argument for abortion, and it certainly isn’t a reason people have abortions. So, why do you use it?
  • “An unborn baby already has ten fingers, ten toes, a beating heart, *continues to name off different organs and such*.” - I’m not seeing a point with this one. A lack of these things is, once again, not an argument for abortion.

Essentially, I would suggest you stop debating and refuting non-existent arguments. At best, you have a weak argument. At worst, you’re wasting everyone’s time.

Problem 2: You use a lot of shameful language and name-calling when talking about or with people who have had abortions. What do you think you accomplish when you tell someone they don’t deserve to have future children? When you tell them “everyone makes bad choices, but as long as you recognize your mistake, it’s okay?” (<–Kicking someone while they’re down is not support, no matter how nicely you word it). When you call them murderers, whores, sluts, or baby killers? Do you honestly think you’re helping people when you do that?

Instead, act as you like to call yourselves: pro-life. Treat these people with respect, with kindness, with support. Take the time to listen to their stories, so that you can learn and offer them the support that they need, not the support you think they need.

Problem 3: Stop using LifeSiteNews and other related websites as your go-to source. I know this may be asking a lot for some of you, but they are incredibly biased and don’t rely on credible research. Instead, find other resources and do your own research. It’s okay to ask questions!

Problem 4: The graphic images have to go. Not only are they gross, they are also triggering to those who have gone through a miscarriage or stillbirth. We know what abortions look like - they are medical procedures, of course they’re going to be bloody. You aren’t “exposing the truth of abortion” when you use them. You’re only being insensitive.

Obviously I have more problems with the pro-life movement, but these are the main ones, and the ones I think you can easily fix. This letter is not because I disagree with you, it’s because your arguments are incredibly weak and a lot of you have forgotten how to treat people.

So! Ask questions. Do some research. Practice respect and kindness. Figure out what other problems you think your movement has. Address them, and move forward.

Take care,

ProVoice