#ten years of euphemisms

[blackoutchocolate]

things ive said on report cards and what they mean

i said: your child wasn’t afraid to ask questions about things they didn’t know and inspired our class to have several impromptu lessons on slightly niche subjects i meant: your kid has a question about everything and won’t shut up and even when it’s on subject they insist they don’t understand the answer

i said: your child enjoyed doing skits and always wanted to play the narrator i meant: no seriously they shouted out demanding to be the narrator every time

i said: your child liked to read on their kindle during recess and was good about putting it away for class time i meant: i’m shocked it was never an issue, thank you for your kid, this would’ve been an issue if it was any other student. and also if another teacher ever objects to them always having it, point to this as evidence of it not being a problem

i said: your child had to be reminded to take time on their art project i meant: they literally spent 3 seconds copying my example and i had to make them redo it

i said: your child enjoyed games, especially when they had a competitive aspect i mean: your kid complained every time a game didn’t involve a score

i said: your child likes helping classmates when they’re having trouble i meant: your kid shouts out the answer if another student hesitates slightly

i said: [student] was a pleasure to teach/joy to have in class/etc and i will miss them in the fall i meant: i didn’t hate your child

i said: [student] was a pleasure to have in class i meant: oh thank god i’m done. they’re someone else’s problem now

#those last two #honestly #like #i like all my students #i swear #but #if i say it was a pleasure #but not that ill miss them #it means #i will definitely not #miss them #even though i really do #like them #teacher life #report cards #another teacher told me #she should write a book #called #ten years of euphemisms

[saintsenara]

chapter twenty-one: peel off the napkin

‘we have one job here tonight, after which i will never speak to you again. this is over. whatever is happening between us is done.'

rodolphus lestrange finally makes an appearance, and he comes bearing news; harry's reckless disregard for other people's privacy causes trouble for him, which perhaps he should have foreseen; wizarding employment practices once again show why you should join a union; and tom is hoping he can remember enough albanian to investigate the story of the fifth murder victim.

harry potter/tom riddle explicit

read the latest chapter here

read from the beginning here

#asenora fics #tomarry #harrymort #harry potter #tom riddle #lord voldemort #one year in every ten #seriously kids join a union #and don't rummage through the dark lord's box of secrets #not a euphemism

[atavist]

A romance scammer conned my mom. I went to Nigeria to find him.

“The Romance Scammer on My Sofa,” issue no. 140 from The Atavist Magazine, is now available:

In Nigeria, Yahoo boys are online fraudsters. Their nickname comes from the email service Yahoo, which became popular in Nigeria in the 2000s, and they are descendants of the infamous 419 scammers, who, first with letters, and later in emails, promised to help strangers get rich for a nominal advance fee. (The number is a reference to a section of the Nigerian criminal code pertaining to fraud.) Biggy is a particular kind of Yahoo boy: a romance scammer who pretends to be other people online to seduce foreigners into trusting him and giving him money.

Biggy’s game is all about intimacy. He invests time in building what seems like a real relationship with his victims. He flatters them, tells them jokes, asks intimate questions. “The most important thing about being a Yahoo boy is keeping the conversation alive,” Biggy told me. “Dating is all about patience. It takes a long time before a client starts trusting you.”

Yahoo boys, I was learning, love euphemisms.

Biggy estimated that over his ten years—and counting—as a romance scammer, he’d lined his pockets with $30,000 from people he conned. People yearning for love. People like my mother.

#atavist #longreads #nigeria #romance #scammers #scam #fraud #yahoo boys #lagos #hiphop #true story

[nia-jul]

LATE NIGHTS AND STAR-CROSSED MARGINS PT 2

Jason Todd, the most beautiful boy in your lecture, takes you out on a (maybe) coffee date.

college!au, fluff, pining, happy ending

——————————————————————

You and Jason Todd are walking down the corridors, hands just brushing past each other as your arms swing besides you.

You and Jason Todd are walking down the corridors. Jason Todd who had asked you to go get coffee, so you could study together, alone. Which you hoped was just a euphemism for ‘get to know and possibly date’, but you weren’t going to complain.

It feels childish. You’re acting like a ten-year-old with a crush, giddy with excitement while he stands oblivious next to you. Should you ask him where he’s taking you? That question feels too datey, too boyfriend-girlfriendy. Instead, you land on just keeping quiet. The silence lingers for a few seconds before he perks up.

“So. You like coffee?” His question is so obviously trying to break the ice, but you appreciate it nonetheless.

“Of course, I can’t live without it. And i haven’t had my fix today, so it’s a good thing we’re going.”

Jason laughs. “Right. I’m guessing this has something to do with you running so late?”

“Yeah. My friends and I stayed up late last night and ended up sleeping so late. I thought i’d set an alarm, but. I guess I didn’t.”

“Levine didn’t care, trust me. You’re one of his favourite students.”

You shake your head in denial, but Jason doubles down.

“No, seriously, you are. You’re smarter than half the people in there.”

“Says you. You hide all those smarts behind those good looks.”

Shit. You can almost feel the smirk on his face.

“You think I’m good looking?”

“Shut up.”

Jason laughs. He holds open the door for you, and you walk out of the building. It’s early, only one o’clock, and there's still a considerable amount of people milling about. It’s warm enough outside that there’s some studying in small groups on the grass, books and pens spread out in front of them. At least, you think they’re supposed to be studying. But with the sun shining as brightly as it was, you figure not a lot of work is getting done.

Jason walks you to the car park, and stops. You look around for a car, but there isn’t one. Instead, he stops in front of a motorcycle.

“And we’re here. This, this right here is my pride and joy.” He rubs the leather seat, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Jason. I’m not getting on that.”

He looks slightly offended. “What? Why not?”

Your mouth gapes. “What do you mean why? Do you know how risky it is to ride a motorcycle? Like- My dads a doctor, you know. I’ve heard stories. About accidents.”

Jason tilts his head. He walks towards you, standing just a few inches in front of you. You have to look up to meet his eyes, he’s so tall. He smells like expensive cologne and something boyish, and you’re sure he’s close enough to feel the heat coming off your face.

“I’ll look after you, sweetheart. Promise.” He murmurs, voice rumbling deep in his chest.

You laugh shakily. Tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, if only for something to do.

“And besides,” He reaches behind him and grabs a helmet, “You can wear this. Keep that pretty head of yours safe.”

You scoff and move away before he can see how flustered you look. You bite your lip, anxiously looking at the bike.

“You’re sure this is safe?”

“Positive.”

You think for a moment. The things you do for good-looking men.

“Okay. Okay, fine, hurry up. We need to go before I think for a second and change my mind.”

He cheers and hands you the helmet. He gets on first, legs stretching over the bike, thighs resting against the seat. You curse under your breath, thankful the helmet is covering your face. You get on behind him. You’re suddenly acutely aware of how close you are. Your hands hover awkwardly.

“Uh, what do I hold onto?”

“My waist.”

Right. Of course it was his waist.

You reach over, arms meeting in front of his middle. You clasp your hands together and stay completely on top of where they rest, because you’re sure you’ve embarrassed yourself enough without touching his crotch.

“You ready?”

“No.”

The words barely leave your mouth before the engine revs, the bike rumbling beneath you. You screech, hands clenching his waist. You think you hear him laugh, but you can't ponder too much about that, or the feel of what you think might be a six-pack beneath his shirt, because he’s moving, and you think you’re about to fall off.

It’s loud, and the wind is making your clothes billow behind you, but it feels freeing, in an odd sort of way. The fear bleeds into adrenaline that fills your veins, and your screaming turns into cheers.

The ride ends all too quickly, and Jason parks at a café well-known enough around your campus. You hop off the bike, and he follows. You take off the helmet, laughing.

“That was amazing! Terrifying, but also amazing.”

Jason nods, taking the helmet out of your hands. His hair is dishevelled from the wind, cheeks flushed red. You don’t think he’s ever looked prettier.

“I told you it would be fun.”

The two of you walk inside. He leads you to a table near the back, ushers you into the booth. You bring out your books, and he brings out his. You set up your things and he stands, tapping his fingers against the chair.

“What do you want to drink?” He asks.

“Hmm. A latte. With an extra shot of espresso.”

“Bold order.”

He disappears, and you finally have time to freak out. You pull out your phone, frantically texting your friends. They explode on the group chat, and you giggle, the flurry of emojis and capital letters easing your nerves. Half of them think it's a date, the other half think it’s all friendly. You can’t decide who you agree with because Jason comes back with your drinks. You quickly turn your phone off and thank him for the drink. He nods at your phone.

“You look smiley. Who are you texting? A boyfriend?” He doesn’t make eye contact as he asks, eyes turned down to his glass.

“No, my friends. They’re just wondering where I am. No boyfriend.”

“Good.”

You raise an eyebrow and he shakes his head.

“Not like that. Just. Good your friends care, you know?”

It’s cute. He’s cute, you think, as the two of you study. He takes pictures of some of your annotations. You peek at his home screen, and see a picture of him and three other boys, all of them grinning apart from him, who's staring grumpily at the camera. You joke about Professor Levine’s long lectures, complain about the essay that you both haven’t started. It’s nice, to talk to someone who’s actually doing the subject you are. And someone’s who's so good at it. If his looks weren’t enough, Jason’s intellect might have to be the sexiest thing about him. He listens to your rambles and answers back with ones just as long. Definitely the best part about him.

After about an hour of that, you spend more time getting to know one another. You learn he has one older brother and two younger ones. He doesn’t linger on his family life too much, and you decide not to pry. He likes to workout (so it was a six-pack you’d felt earlier) and his favourite poet is Emily Dickinson. Which might’ve been enough for you to propose on the spot.

You finish off the last dregs of your latte and he downs his too. He ended up buying some snacks, and you learn that Jason Todd loves blueberry muffins. You glance at the time, and gape.

“Oh god, i gotta get home. I’ve got so much stuff to do tonight.”

“Oh. Yeah, I’ll drop you.” There's a lilt of disappointment in his voice, and you try not to like it.

The ride back is just as fun as before, and this time you definitely don’t hold him tight enough to feel the line of his muscles beneath his shirt. He parks in the same place as before, and walks you to the door of your dorm.

“Well. This is me.” You sigh.

“Yep.”

The two of you pause for a second. You say your goodbyes, and go to enter. But you pause, just before your key slips in the lock.

The question you’re about to ask can go one of two ways, but you think you have to ask it. Your friends will kill you if you don’t, and you think you might too. You turn back to face Jason, who still hasn’t left.

“Jason, I have to ask. Was this, like. A friendly café revision session? Or was it. You know, something more.”

He tilts his head again. A curl falls across his eyes. His eyelashes are impossibly long, and they frame the bright brown eyes that always stare right into you.

“I’d like it to be a date. If you don’t mind.”

You sigh in relief. “Thank god. Of course, I don’t mind.”

You shut your mouth, reigning in the rest of your ramble of how desperate you were to go out with him.

“Cool. I was going to ask you straight up, but I thought it might be a bit too forward.”

You huff a laugh. “It’s okay. I like forward.”

“Noted.” He pauses for a second. “Give me your phone.”

“Yes, sir.”

He falters a little at that, before straightening up and grabbing your phone. You will definitely be looking into that later. He opens your contacts and types in his number. He sends himself a text, and his phone buzzes.

“Alright. I’ll text you, and maybe we could go out again?”

“I’d like that.”

“I’ll see you around, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. Damn you, Jason Todd.

You reach up and place a kiss on his cheek. It takes every ounce of your control not to kiss him properly, but you better save something for your other dates.

That night, you fall asleep with the taste of latte on your lips and the smell of Jason’s cologne in your head.

——————————————————————

AUTHORS NOTE

part two 🙈 might make this into a series of oneshots, we’ll see! Hope you enjoy!

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #jason todd oneshot #fluff #oneshot #dc comics #dc universe #red hood #red hood x reader

[shu-of-the-wind]

The Ainu have not intentionally forgotten their culture and their language. It is the modern Japanese state that, from the Meiji era on, usurped our land, destroyed our culture, and deprived us of our language under the euphemism of assimilation. In the space of a mere 100 years, they nearly decimated the Ainu culture and language that had taken tens of thousands of years to come into being on this earth. ~Kayano Shigeru (1926-2006) Our Land Was a Forest: An Ainu Memoir

#all weebs should be legally required to read about japanese imperialism both inside and outside the country that is now labeled as “japan” #but especially this one #anyway #ainu #kayano shigeru #book recommendation

[moonlight-prose]

HURT | ONGOING

a/n: i've only ever done one shots here and there for joel that i sent to my best friend, but now i'm finally attempting a full story. here's hoping that it all goes well. for this fic i'm following the game's timeline of 2033, and it's set ten years before the actual game starts.

i don't keep taglists anymore but i do have a library blog!

summary: alone and trying to survive, you find your path crossing with a man who's headed to boston of all places. he claims he's looking for a new start, not realizing you might be it.

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

each chapter has it's own warnings, but this story is 18+.

INSPO TAG | PLAYLIST

MAIN STORY

➝the curse of the fold | 6k+

➝only ones who know | 4.7k+

through the valley: interlude | 2.7k+

➝house of the rising sun | 7.8k+

arsonist's lullabye of love: interlude | 2.9k+

➝love like ghosts | 8.4k+

in the woods somewhere: interlude | 3.3k+

➝midnight dove | 14k+

➝empire of dirt | {COMING SOON}

➝moonlight rising from the grave

➝gold dust woman

➝love in the dark

➝the guardian

➝future days

ONE SHOTS

➝broken radiance | 1k+

➝evergreen wasn't such a bad dream | 1.5k+

EXTRAS

➝moodboard by the incredible @eupheme!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller #the last of us fic #the last of us #joel miller smut #my writing

[sin-djarin]

Sunday Rundown

Good morning/afternoon evening and happy Sunday and first official day of spooky season! My favourite time of year 🕸

Fics I've read this week that I enjoyed. As usual, most are 18+ and please heed the authors individual warnings - my tastes may differ to yours and that's okay!

Joel Miller

No Closer Could I Be To God by @proxima-writes

Looking Back by @eupheme

Sober by @sweetercalypso

New York or Nowhere by @beskarandblasters (new chapter)

Happy Birthday by @trulybetty

body language by @cupofjoel

Five Days by @morallyinept

Ghost by @mrsquill

Marcus Pike

Can't Sleep by @moralesispunk

Headshots by @secretelephanttattoo

machine wash warm by @idolatrybarbie

Javi P

Su Favorita by @morallyinept

Javi G

Diamante by @kiwisbell

Din Djarin

Tempered in the Fire by @ladamedusoif (new chapter)

What I got up to this week:

We apologized for Santi this week. But @imaswellkid said the only thing he should be apologizing for really is his 🍑and so you can see his and Frankie's NSFW versions here.

I don't know what it is, blame Autumn or whatever but I've been feeling some type of way about Marcus this week month, year in all his Autumnal Glory.

Wishing you all coffee, tea, and sweet treats this Sunday. Please remember to do something nice for yourself, you deserve it! Thank you for all the reading, laughs and smiles you've thrown my way this week.

Becca 🤍

Personal bits and pieces:

I saw A Strange Way of Life on Monday. I swear the whole thing felt about ten minutes long. The credits rolled and I was like no...it can't be over already?! But seriously, it's unbelievable. There is so much depth to both characters. The colours are amazing. Silva's soft eyes are something to behold on the big screen. I hope you all get a chance to see it very very soon!

Also a question for my followers that are Stateside; why is candy corn so divisive? I had some last night and it's...good? I can't pinpoint what exactly it's meant to taste like but I'm not mad at it!

I have a real love/hate relationship with Sundays. I kind of struggle to relax on Sundays because I get anxious about the week ahead. It's also hair washing day for me and it takes a long time. But I make an effort to drink some decent coffee on a Sunday so the good outweighs the bad, really.

I'm ready to start swinging at tumblr at this stage. I feel like I'm missing stuff when things on my for you should be on my following tab. And the notifications are still seemingly broken so I hope y'all see this.

Anyways, I wish you a good week in whatever you get up to!

#fic recs #joel miller #marcus pike #javier pena #javier peña #javier gutierrez #din djarin #joel miller x reader #javier pena x reader #javier gutierrez x reader #marcus pike x reader #din djarin x reader #pedro pascal character fanfic

[inklore]

recs blog | previous recs

happy first month of a great year for all of us!! my reading month was actually spectacular and i can only hope the same can be said for all of you. i hope you read some amazing stories and wrote to your hearts desires.

i was blessed by every story below, making my day and night ten times better. and i am once again screaming over the talent that gets shared on this hellsite and how creators are truly the backbone of it, and each and everyone of you deserves the world <3

18+ ONLY MINORS DNI with the works below. unless it’s stated otherwise. heed warnings and authors notes please.

joel miller

i'm yours to tame by @psychedelic-ink

cast yourself on me by @allaboardthereadingrailroad

mule by @laters-gators

from my skin to yours by @/psychedelic-ink

radio static by @foli-vora

bloody knuckles by @pedrito-friskito

seeing you, seeing me by @amywritesthings

pale rider by @moonlight-prose

fire burning by @/psychedelic-ink

bluebird by @moondirti

well, are you mine? by @/psychedelic-ink

theirs, and yours by @eupheme

somewhere new by @/psychedelic-ink

morning coffee by @mindidjarin

burn for me by @/psychedelic-ink

inside your safe haven by @/allaboardthereaderingrailroad

atta girl by @/laters-gators

first rays of dawn by @deardjo

love will abide by @/psychedelic-ink

tender / and what’s left by @/moondirti

pedro pascal

not that kind of person by @bakerstreethound (din djarin)

negotiation skills by @no-droids (din djarin)

marvel

what's the occasion? by @tripleyeeet (loki laufeyson)

rhinestone eyes by @geminimoonbeamx (peter parker)

say it too by @astroboots (marc spector)

etc

safeguard by @/laters-gators (santiago garcia)

amende honorable by @/laters-gators (nathan bateman)

sin adorno o flores by @rae-gar-targaryen (mickey "'fanboy' garcia)

please do not spam like the works above, no one likes a spam liker. comments and reblogs are always the better way to show your appreciation to content creators.

if you would like me to remove your works within this list, for whatever reason, please let me know and i will kindly do so!

#monthly fic recs ! #fic recommendations #smut recs #joel miller fics #marvel recs #marvel fic recs #fic recs #tlou fanfiction

[miss0atae]

Recently I read a post about Krist and Singto reunion and how you can sum up all this new era of Thai BL through their series "SOTUS". This series had such a great impact that it explains why the genre is where it is now. I'm kinda new in Thai BL and I never bothered to watch it. There are so many options nowadays so I never took the time to see what was about "SOTUS". However, that post made such an impact on me, that I decided to start it now. It may be late, but I want to see what is this story and why it is considered such a "classic".

Random Thoughts about SOTUS episode 1:

▪️ I'm always amazed by all this big gathering of freshman in Thai series or any other series to be honest. My country don't do this thing. During all my college life, I barely knew people I was in class with. I feel this big gathering must be great to feel like you're part of the school. Anyway, it had a very solemn vibe in the series, especially when the third years students arrived.

▪️ From the first minutes, you get who are the main characters. Arthit Rojnapat who is played by Krist appears to be the very domineering senior who seems to get off when he can intimidate his juniors. It's my only guess because his requests were really too much. Who can get 1000 signatures in only one week or know in this short time how many people are in their year?! I tried imagining being in the same situation and my anxiety would never let me get away with it. The other main is Kongpob Suthiluck, usually called Kong, the junior who won't cow down to him and who will even challenge him. Saying they didn't get off a good start would be an euphemism.

▪️ It was so weird to see Krist being this annoying senior. Last role, I saw him was as Kawi in "Be My Favorite" and Hunter in "The Jungle". They weren't good guys too, but they more lovable. I had trouble accepting the change, at first. I'm sure we'll see some change after some episodes. However, I have to admit, I enjoyed very much the verbal jousting between his character and Kong. Every time, they were in the same room, it was like something was cackling in the air. The energy was off the chart.

▪️ Kong gave a total different impression. He is nice (he gave his shirt to another classmate when he couldn't get his size), brave (he didn't hesitate to shout in front of a large crowd that he likes men and asked ten of his schoolmates if they wanted to date him, even if it was a dare) and a good friend to have around (He helped M to get all the signature because M is too shy). He never really bends to anyone. He has done all the tasks Arthit threw at him, but it always felt like Kong was the one who had the upper hand, which was something Arthit found hard to swallow. I believe he never met his match before. He can be fierce, so it seems no other students before Kong found the courage to answer him back. Kong stands out from others. At the moment, this is only annoying for Arthit, but I guess it may lead to something else later.

▪️ We also get a few introduction to other characters but as for now they remain more like backgrounds characters. I think we'll learn more about them later in the series. It's so weird to see all these actors I saw in other series because they look so young here. You can see that 8 years have passed. Everyone has changed so much.

Anyway, I didn't think I would enjoy this first episode as much as I did. I thought it would show its age, but I didn't really feel it. It was a nice start and I really want to see the next episode.

#thai series #thai bl #bl drama #bl series #my thoughts #random thoughts #sotus the series #episode 1 #first watch #I believe I was inspired by a post from dropthedemiurge to watch this series

[punisheddonjuan]

So I forgot about/didn't get around to deleting one of the dating apps I had installed to see what the dating ecosystem was like after having been away for close to eight years and this morning I received a notification from said app. Said app poses a daily question for users to answer in a public thread. This was today's question:

Knowing that this would not be a positive experience but feeling compelled to look anyway, I steeled myself for the responses and dove in.

"Disabled man is bitter about the way society treats him, therefore he is a narcissist."

That's a lot of words to say "no, and the only reason people say yes is because they are trying to be woke, but everyone knows deep down that disabled people aren't desirable" also your name is Òdinn and you appear to live in the forests of Norway so there is a high chance that you're a Nazi.

This is such a typical response and I have no doubt in my mind that this guy would leave said hypothetical partner who became disabled in an accident, simply because the overwhelming majority of men will leave a disabled partner. Hell it's a very common r/relationshipadvice topic.

This response leaves me with many questions and no answers. Why would you need to change your perspective?

Jesus fucking Christ. I know this is supposed to be "a joke" but it's almost more hateful that way.

Way to throw in some weird "sexual market value" incel shit into the conversation there dude with "hot women can date rich men to escape lower economic divisions".

I guess points to this guy for honesty, but it still sucks.

I've not met a single disabled person ever, including myself, who prefers the term "differently abled". Not only does the feel patronizing and like it was workshopped by a cadre of guilt ridden HR managers, the language of that particular euphemism suggests, at its core, that a failure to thrive is more the result of personal failing than systemic barriers to employment, education, housing, or relationships. It's sprung from the same liberal eugenicist minds that gave us the phrase "the only real disability is not having a positive attitude".

Christ this is bleak.

Well at least I was reminded to delete the app.

You know, nine times out of ten, it's not worth it for a disabled person to try to date a non-disabled person. Your dating pool should really just be restricted to other disabled persons, and this is in many ways preferable, but because society wants you dead, there are structural barriers. Here in Canada you were already likely to lose your disability benefits should you get married, because supporting you should be the responsibility of your spouse (never mind that the disabled partner is at much greater risk of abuse and is now dependant on their abuser) and if you're both disabled, well you both risk losing your benefits. Two people pooling their meagre resources is considered gaming the system. Bleak.

It kind of makes you hate incels just a little more for co-opting a term coined by a mentally ill queer woman, who hit on a feeling a lot of people with structural barriers to relationships experience. There are a lot of people out there who are denied intimacy for long stretches of time or perhaps for the duration of their life for reasons rooted in the pervasive and systemic ableism throughout our culture and society. Reasons that are entirely outside of those persons' control. Instead the term is now the sole domain of broken men who blame their lack of partner on a "a few millimeters of bone" instead of their actual problem, being raging misogynist antisocial creeps who do things like shit on their laptops while livestreaming with other antisocial misogynist creeps. It's a shame it wasn't put to better use.

#blog #dating #disability

[gothhabiba]

Forgotten [...] is the crystallization during [the early 20th century] of Zionist thinking vis-a-vis the Palestinians, particularly in the person of the paramount leader, David Ben-Gurion [...]. [A]s early as 1936, Ben-Gurion had decided that the only relationship possible with the Palestinians was a "military" one, since they would not accept a Jewish majority nor unrestricted Jewish immigration—this at a time when the Jews constituted not much more than a quarter of the population. [...] Ben-Gurion [...] considered "a Jewish state in part of Palestine as a stage in the longer process towards a Jewish state in all of Palestine." [...] Lecturing to Mapai activists on 29 October 1937, Ben-Gurion explained that the realization of the Jewish state would come in two stages: the first, "the period of building and laying foundations," would last ten to fifteen years and would be but the prelude to the second stage, "the period of expansion."

[I]n the summer of 1937, ten years before the UN partition resolution, Ben-Gurion ordered the Haganah commander of Tel Aviv, Elimelech Slikowitz ("Avnir"), to draw up a plan for the military takeover of the entire country in anticipation of Britain's withdrawal from Palestine expected in the wake of of the Peel Report. [...] Equally illuminating for this period is the persistent preoccupation of the top echelons of Zionist leadership with the modalities of the "transfer" (euphemism for ethnic cleansing of the Palestinian population from any future Jewish state).

As for the immediate antecedents of the partition resolution, they, too, are forgotten. No correlation is attempted between the partition plan and the [...] ruthless campaign of terror against the British (erstwhile architects of the Jewish National Home) by both the Haganah and the so-called "dissident" Irgun (IZL) and Stern (Lehi) organizations carried out between 1945 and 1947. Lehi, of course, had started earlier and had established links with Nazi Germany as of 1940 on the grounds that Britain was the greater enemy, whereas the Irgun (led by Menachem Begin, recently arrived in Palestine from Poland) unleashed operations against the British in Palestine even as British forces under General Montgomery were probing the Western defenses of the Nazi heartland in Central Europe. To be sure, the Haganah under Ben-Gurion tried selectively to keep its distance from the "dissidents," but this did not inhibit it from carefully orchestrated joint operations with them against British "targets" in Palestine in 1946. It was during this period that an innovative array of tactics was first introduced into the Middle East by the Zionist forces, including letter bombs, parcel bombs, vehicular bombs [...], the whipping and lynching of British soldier hostages, booby-trapping their corpses, and electrically detonated mines against civilian targets.

Thanks to these tactics, which culminated in the attack on the Mandatory headquarters at the King David Hotel in Jerusalem on 22 July 1946, in which 41 Arabs, 17 Jews, and 28 Englishmen were blown to smithereens, an all-pervasive atmosphere of terror seized the Palestinian civilian population—a presumably not unintended effect. It was this same atmosphere that propelled the British government, with its garrison of 100,000 crack troops [...] to call it quits, particularly as the other arm of the Zionist grand strategy constituted continuous, cumulative pressure via the new American president, Harry Truman, who had succeeded Franklin D. Roosevelt in April 1945.

The Jewish campaign against the British did not mean that Ben-Gurion considered his relationship with the British to be a "military" one or that he sought an all-out confrontation with them. Quite the contrary, we are assured by Teveth that he saw the relationship as an exclusively "political" one. In other words, all Ben-Gurion wanted from Britain at this stage was to clear out of the way so that he could pursue his "military" relationship with the Palestinians and the Arab countries. And pursue it he did [...] in a massive program of arms acquisition and military buildup [...].

– 1997. Walid Khalidi, “Revisiting the UNGA Partition Resolution,” Journal of Palestine Studies 27.1, pp. 5-21.

#Palestine #Israel #Palestinian history #quote

[mrspasser]

After the snap - chapter 1 - Sterek fanfic

Another fic from a while back that didn't get put on Tumblr. Well, it's here now. Please keep some tissues nearby, I'm told they're needed.

The werewolf across from her shifts in his seat. It's always a bit like pulling teeth with him, getting him to share his thoughts. At first, she was convinced he would give up on therapy. Truthfully, even after almost four years of it she still wonders every now and then if he would just stop showing up some day. Yet, he keeps coming to their weekly appointments. They're short, only thirty minutes, and sometimes no more than ten words come out of her client. However, she has learned to listen to what isn't being said, to read between the lines. It’s how she knows that getting therapy is a promise he made to someone important, before The Snap.

Find it on A03 and Wattpad

After the snap - Chapter 1

Melody Brooks looks over her schedule for the day. She has five clients today. Two in the morning, two in the afternoon and one in her evening slot. After that, she has a short session with her colleague, to evaluate their day. Or, to just unload all the worries her clients have bestowed upon her that day. It's not unusual for them to do it over a glass of Bordeaux, after all, they're just human. As are all of her clients too, even though some of them are a little more than human.

It's something the world learned after The Snap, or The Blip, the euphemisms used to describe the annihilation of half the people on the planet. Most churches stopped using the phrase "ashes to ashes, dust to dust" after that catastrophic day, as it was too painful for their congregation to hear. Melody tries to see the irony in that, believing that humor can be a healthy coping mechanism when deployed appropriately. It's one way to deal with it, as there are many ways, not all of them healthy or right. Still, each person has a right to deal with it in their own way, to act as they see fit. She is just there to help them along the way, if they want her to.

The people suffered from the loss of their loved ones, some to the point of being no longer able to deal with those losses. Suicide rates had gone up after that day, and now, almost five years later, they're still higher than before. Melody lost clients, some of them even after years of therapy. Others, she was able to help pick up their lives again, to live on with the memories. Everyone's progress is different, some are faster than others. And with some, the pace is glacial. 

"So, Derek, tell me. What's new this week?"

The werewolf across from her shifts in his seat. It's always a bit like pulling teeth with him, getting him to share his thoughts. At first, she was convinced he would give up on therapy. Truthfully, even after almost four years of it she still wonders every now and then if he would just stop showing up some day. Yet, he keeps coming to their weekly appointments. They're short, only thirty minutes, and sometimes no more than ten words come out of her client. However, she has learned to listen to what isn't being said, to read between the lines. It’s how she knows that getting therapy is a promise he made to someone important, before The Snap.

"The old fox burrow is in use again," he says, his gaze locked on the coffee table between them.

"Oh? Just one fox? Or a family?" Melody actually quite likes the information Derek Hale shares with her about the animal life in the Preserve that surrounds most of Beacon Hills. With his heightened senses the werewolf can discern more than others. It's his job too, he's been a park ranger for two years now. Getting the job was cause for celebration, to her surprise the man had even hugged her, momentarily overwhelmed by emotions.

"Two. I think there'll be a family soon." He smiles a little then, looking up from the table. The Snap had affected all living creatures, animals and man alike. To see nature finding its way again is important beyond measure.

"That's good news!" Melody acknowledges, before moving on to a new subject. "Did your shipment of timber come in yet?"

Derek nods. “Not all of it, but the large beams are there, so I can start on the framework.”

In the past two years, the werewolf had torn down the charred remains of his old family home in the Preserve bit by bit, meaning to build a new house in its place. Melody had once happened upon the old house when hiking the trails. She was not a native to Beacon Hills, but her friend was, and he had told her about the Hales and the tragedy of the fire that took the lives of most of the family. Of course there was more to that story than the average townspeople knew, as it all happened before people were privy to the existence of werewolves and other supernatural creatures. 

The alien invasion in New York proved that they were not alone in the universe. And after The Snap, people discovered mankind wasn’t alone on Earth either. Or rather, that mankind was more diverse than they’d all thought. And The Snap had affected everybody. Werewolves without pack, witches without their coven, forests that were suddenly bereft of their protecting druids, the list went on and on. One good thing that came out of The Snap was that mankind bonded together, reaching out to the people that remained. And, to some people’s surprise or even anger, that bond also extended to the people that were a little more than human. People were so happy to see their neighbour survive that they didn’t even care that their neighbour went furry each full moon. Melody’s parents, who had both miraculously survived that dreadful day, discovered that their neighbour from across the street was a druid. Her father just said it explained a lot about why Ted’s rose bushes were always the first to blossom. 

Derek is more at ease with the older man than with the younger, she knows they get together a couple of nights a week, drinking beer and playing cards, or watching a game. She has met the sheriff a couple of times and admires him strongly. He lost his son in The Snap, a boy in his early twenties, and most of his deputies. However, out of a strong sense of community, the sheriff kept on going. It is mainly thanks to him that the town pulled through the way they did. 

Besides a werewolf, Melody also has a witch as a client. William Johnson is the retired head of the local elementary school, always dressed in a sweater vest, with his dark, bald head shining like a bowling ball. He was one of the most positive people she’d ever met, but he’d lost his wife and almost his whole coven in The Snap, and that was more than enough to rattle a man.

Derek Hale also lost his people, his pack. For the second time, as it turned out. The man had experienced trauma upon trauma and he was most certainly not ready to rehash all that. So they work on the little things, on moving forward, one step at a time, to keep on living. He is not totally alone, that helps a little. There is another werewolf, an Alpha like him, and there is a human, the father of one of his lost packmates. The three of them have formed a new, makeshift pack, even though a pack usually has only one Alpha. Melody knows the new house will have rooms for them, even though they don’t live together now and maybe never will. 

After Derek has told her about his work on the house, she asks about his pack. “How’s Scott? Did you talk to him this week?”

Over the years Melody has learned that Stiles, the sheriff’s son, held an important place in Derek’s life. There were Boyd, Erica, Isaac and Jackson, all connected to him through the bond between Alpha and Beta. There was Scott, who was a rather reluctant member of Derek’s pack, which explained their rocky relationship in the present. And there was Stiles, not a werewolf, yet maybe the most loyal member of Derek’s pack nonetheless. Of the pack only Scott remained. At first there was Scott’s girlfriend too, but she had moved away with her family to Europe after The Snap and Derek had mentioned them breaking up not long after.

Derek scoffs quietly. He doesn’t always see eye to eye with the other werewolf and they often have little spats because of it. At first, Derek was bottling everything up inside, afraid to lose yet another pack member. In time, he’s learned that he wouldn’t lose his friend just because they argued. It is slow learning, heavily influenced by past experiences. He had to learn that he was not the only one that needed the other, that his friend would never truly leave him, even though they might not speak for a couple of days because emotions ran high between them. 

“It was different… with Stiles,” Derek had once said in one of his rare moments of transparency. “We argued all the time, but he always stayed, even when I didn’t want him to.” A wistful smile had crossed his face. “He was always there.” For me , was left unsaid but still heard.

“Scott has been doing that speed-date thing again,” Derek answers after a short pause. “He wanted me to come too.”

“It could be nice, meeting new people?” Melody knows to tread lightly when it comes to this subject. There are names in Derek’s past, Kate or Jennifer for instance, that have done a lot of damage. And there is one name he still holds on to, long after his disappearance.

“I don’t need to sit down at a table to do that.” It sounds bitter and Melody knows the reason behind that. Derek is a handsome man, beautiful to most standards, even with the white hairs that have appeared in his short beard. It’s a face that makes people look twice, even though most days he doesn’t carry the most friendly expression. It’s a face that makes people approach him, has women - and some men - give him their number or outright proposition him. 

“People at a speed-date event tend to be looking for a relationship instead of a one night stand. It wouldn’t be the same.”

“Don’t care.” With that, Derek closes off again. Melody makes a soft sound of acknowledgement, knowing the werewolf can hear her. She’s not judging and Derek knows that by now. It’s another thing he’s learned. 

“It’s almost time,” she says, closing her notebook. “Will I see you next week?”

Derek nods, getting up from his chair. “I’ll be here.”

***

“Thanks, son,” Noah says as he takes the beer from Derek. “God knows I could use a cold one after the day I've had.” He has been out and about all day in the California summer. He’s grateful that Derek’s loft is nice and cool, partially thanks to the dark curtains in front of the large window. 

“Dinner’s ready in twenty,” the werewolf informs him, taking a seat at the kitchen table across from him. They always sit here when they’re in the loft; they have their own seats, their own routines. Derek’s kitchen table is a comfortable place to be. The table is handcrafted from wood from the Preserve, made by Derek himself. The chairs are a fairly recent addition to the loft; comfortable seats that invite you to sit in them for long nights filled with good food and interesting conversation. 

“Smells good already.” Noah takes a long drink from his beer, washing away the dust from the day. He’d spent most of the afternoon directing traffic, when a truck with live cattle went off the road. Only one of the cows was hurt bad enough that they had to put her down, the others came away with minor scratches and a good scare. At his age he wasn’t going to run after escaped cows anymore, he’d left that to his young deputies and had taken it upon himself to direct traffic around the area of the crash. He likes doing that, most of the people waving a hello at him when they move past him.

“I used one of Claudia’s recipes,” Derek says, drinking from his own beer.

“The beef casserole,” Noah nods, “I already thought it smelled familiar.” Between the two of them Derek is the best cook; Claudia’s recipe books are in good hands with him.

In the comfortable silence that follows Noah looks idly around the room. Over the years the loft has become more homey, with Derek adding furniture, carpets and drapes to the industrial open space. He knows a lot of it was Stiles' idea, his son urging his Alpha to make a more permanent home for himself. Stiles hasn't been around to see how much of his suggestions Derek has actually followed, with most of it happening after that disastrous day that cut down the world's population by half. Still, it warms Noah's heart to see what Derek did - and still does - to keep the memory of his pack, and Stiles foremost, alive. 

One of the walls is covered in photographs, most of them taken from the phones of the kids. Stiles is in a lot of those photos, often smiling. There is one picture that he loves best, one that was taken without Stiles knowing. If he remembers correctly, it was Erica who took it. She was responsible for the lion's share of the pictures on the wall, on account of her always taking pictures with her phone. In the photograph Stiles and Derek are sagged out on the sofa, sitting shoulder to shoulder and both with their socked feet up on the coffee table. Stiles is throwing up a piece of popcorn and Derek is tracking it through the air with his eyes, his mouth already partially opened to catch it. In the corner of the photograph is Lydia, her bare feet wedged underneath Stiles' thigh. She is watching the tv outside of the frame, snuggled comfortably underneath Jackson's arm - the only part of him that is visible in this particular photo. Noah loves how relaxed they all are in the picture, the way you can see how close they all are. 

Just one of the kids in that photo survived. The sofa is still here too, yet nobody sits on it anymore. Scott has urged Derek more than once to get rid of it, to get rid of the painful memories it contains. Derek refuses, a recurring point of strife between the two werewolves. 

***

The sofa is a silent memorial to those who were lost, sitting smack dab in the middle of the Alpha's living room. Stiles was sitting there when he turned to dust, visiting Derek during his break from college. Derek had just gotten up to make them coffee when it happened, his claws raking through dusty flakes a moment later. Noah had covered the desperate claw marks with a throw spread that had been in Stiles' dorm room, something that Derek allowed only because it smelled like Stiles.

Maybe it isn't healthy for Derek to have such a monument in his living room, to hold on to the sliver of hope that they would return some day; to think that there would be a day that Stiles would sit there again, throwing up popcorn for Derek to catch. Maybe it is unfair of Noah to like that Derek keeps the sofa untouched and waiting. Maybe. But Noah will never be the one to take it away.

"That's good. She sounds nice," Allison says in her soft voice. "How's Derek? And Noah?"

Allison smiles at him from the screen, her cheeks dimpling in that familiar way he loves. It used to ache to see her, but not anymore. They are in a different place now, one where they can be friends and look back fondly upon the time they had together. 

Scott tells her about the date he had with the girl he met at the speed dating event the week before. They'd gone out for coffee, to get to know each other.  "I was the first werewolf she ever met, but she seems cool with it. I think I'm gonna see her again."

"The sheriff's been well. Still not thinking about retirement though." Scott grimaces a little. Noah isn't getting any younger, but he doesn't want to hear of stopping. "Derek is… well, Derek." He shrugs. "We've got most of the framework up for the new house. You can really start to see how it'll be when it's finished. You should visit us when the house is done, we'll have a housewarming party or something!"

“What?” Scott is a little confused. Just a moment ago Allison was talking about the representation of supernatural entities in the government of the European Union, and now he doesn’t know what she’s talking about. “What are you on about, Ally?”

"You know what, I think I will!" Allison smiles jovially and continues by telling what she and her father have been up to in Europe. They have ties with what remains of The Avengers, the supernatural branch of it at least. Scott doesn't really know much about it. On the one hand Allison doesn't tell him much - or isn't allowed to tell. And on the other hand it's something that Scott doesn't want anything to do with. What happened in The Blip was horrible. He lost his mother, his best friend and many other friends and family members. But it also brought good things. He feels as if the world is closer knit together than before. He doesn't have to hide his supernatural side anymore. So he tries to look forward, to see the good things. There is nothing to be gained from getting stuck in the past.

“Things are happening, Scott. I can’t tell you about it, hell, I don’t even know much about it myself, but there is something!”

“Thanos! There might be a way to defeat Thanos!”

Scott frowns. “I thought he was gone? Like, gone off to some far away planet where nobody can find him?” It had taken him some time, but eventually he’d accepted that Thanos was in a whole other league than their usual monster of the week . There were other people to deal with him; real life superheroes, who had gadgets and weapons and who worked with the U.S. government. Sure, he wanted to kick Thanos’ ass just as much as every other human being on this planet. But he couldn’t, being a werewolf did not make him a match for the Titan, far from it. And besides, he wouldn’t even know where his ass was to begin to kick it.

“I’m telling you, Scott, there might be a way!”

***

It happened on a monday, May 21 in 2018. The date is engraved in Derek’s memory, like the day his family’s house burned down or the day Laura died. It’s the day he lost his family for the second time. 

It happens on a normal weekday in October, 2023. Derek is sitting at his kitchen table, enjoying a cup of tea after dinner. He’s reading an old novel, one from the James Bond series that his father used to love. Derek has seen most of the movies, the newer ones at least, and he rather enjoys the novels too. 

The sound from the street reaches him first. The building his loft is in used to be abandoned and run down, but it was the first project he undertook when his life settled somewhat. Now, all the apartments are lived in and the street sees some light traffic. It’s a quiet street, yet outside there’s the sound of screeching tires, followed by confused shouts. Derek rushes towards the window, looking down at the dark street. There’s a car shoved halfway up the sidewalk, the driver’s door open, with the driver shouting at a person who is standing in the middle of the street. The person, a man dressed in stained overalls, is looking around himself in a dazed way. He clearly doesn’t know what’s happening.

Derek is about to dismiss him as a drunk, when there’s a small noise behind him. Something like the wind blowing through the leaves, only there is no wind and there are no leaves. 

“D… Derek?”

His heart falls through his stomach and his knees buckle in the same moment. Derek crashes to the floor, his eyes locked on the phantom vision in the middle of his living room. There, on the sofa, dressed in the grey University of Berkeley hoodie he was wearing when he disappeared, is Stiles.

The young man makes a noise of distress when Derek hits the floor and rushes over to him. The hands that grab his shoulders feel real, solid. 

Change washes over him involuntarily, his fangs lengthening, his nails sharpening and his vision washing red. But the man at his side is not deterred. “Derek? What’s happening? Derek?”

He grabs the grey hoodie with both hands, his claws piercing the fabric. “You’re not real,” he wrings out of his closed up throat. “You, you can’t be.”

Yet everything is telling him the boy is real. His hands are firm and warm. His breath is coming rapidly, his heart beating even faster. The hands close around his wrists, holding them but not pulling them away. “Derek? What is this?”

The werewolf sags against the boy, burying his face against his chest. Stiles barely manages to stay upright, catching him in a tangle of limbs. “You’re here,” Derek says breathlessly, “you’re here, you’re here.”

“I am,” Stiles answers, voice wobbling slightly. He wraps his arms around Derek’s shoulders, holding him against him. “I’m here.”

Derek can’t say how long they are sitting there like that. At some point Stiles pokes and prods them into a different position, complaining about pins and needles in his leg, but they keep holding each other. He has his face buried in Stiles’ neck, breathing his scent in over and over, to keep reminding himself that apparently this is real. Stiles is really here. 

When his phone rings in his pocket, he knows it’s Noah. It’s the only reason he picks up, the only reason he takes one hand off Stiles to take his phone out of his pocket. 

“Derek?” The sheriff sounds like the way Derek feels. “Is he…?”

“Yes,” Derek croaks. “He is.”

“At the loft?”

“Yes.” It’s all Derek can get out.

“I’m coming.”

Derek puts the phone away. From this close, Stiles was able to hear the conversation even without werewolf hearing. He doesn’t need to repeat it for him. Couldn’t, even if he tried. He doesn’t have the voice for it.

Stiles doesn’t ask for it either. Doesn’t ask whether that was his father on the phone. He just lets Derek burrow back against him, keeping him as close as Derek does him. 

“Huh,” Stiles says after a moment, his fingers scratching idly in the short hairs on Derek’s nape. “You put up curtains.”

Chapter 2

#long post #chaptered fanfic #sterek #sterek fanfic #marvel au #derek hale #stiles stilinski #Thanos snapped his fingers #Derek got left behind #happy ending #tear jerker #ilse writes fanfiction #derek x stiles #teen wolf #teen wolf fanfiction

[sparkypantaloons]

A Straight Blade

Bruce teaches Jason how to shave.

~

At first, Bruce is too stunned that his son alive, to do much more than internally scream Jason's name, everytime he sees him.

A strange mix of love and guilt and joy, shame and fear and relief, flooding his veins whenever the Red Hood shows up. Or is heard over the comms. Or is mentioned by literally anyone within ear shot.

Because that's Bruce's boy. That's his Jason and he's back and he's alive and he's not dead!

And okay, yes, he's also absolutely furious with Bruce. And alright, so maybe he keeps trying to kill his brother's. But he's alive. Jason is alive. Jason, Bruce's son. His darling boy.

It takes a little while for Jason's fury to subside. And Bruce will be the first to hold his hands up and say that okay, maybe he could have handled that whole situation better. But every interaction with Jason overwhelms him.

Because every interaction is a flood of emotions he has spent years of his life trying not to feel. Guilt for letting Jason die and relief that Jason came back. The fear that he might lose him again and so much love he doesn't know where to put it. How to let it out.

Jason's return to the fold is slow. And to begin with, it's strictly Red Hood business. Bruce doesn't see him without the helmet for months at a time. And when Jason is without his eponymous Hood, it's usually because something has gone horribly wrong. In which case Bruce is too busy trying to fix things (and not implode with panic) for him to notice much anything else.

Which is why, he supposes, it's taken him so long to notice just exactly what it is that has been (literally) staring him in the face for a while now.

He's sat at the breakfast table in the kitchen, slowly making his way through a plate of bacon and eggs, even if it is one in the afternoon.

Damian is sat beside him, a half eaten bowl of soggy cheerios pushed away, as he colours in one of his drawings. His tongue pokes out the side of his mouth.

Across the table, Jason watches the ten year old. His pancakes and berries are untouched.

Patrol last night had been a struggle, with only Batman, Robin, Orphan and Red Hood on patrol they'd been outnumbered from the start. Dick was injured, Steph had finals and Tim was undercover with Kon (Bruce tries not to think about whether or not that's a euphemism). Even Kate was out of town.

So of course that meant there was mini gang war down on the docks.

The four of them had put on an impressive display holding things together. At least, until Robin was sucker punched in the head, that is. The blow had come from behind and knocked the ten year old out cold, sent him falling into murky waters of the bay.

Orphan had him out in no time, but Jason hadn't let Damian out of his sight since. It made Bruce's heart skip a little.

"What're you staring at, you old creep?" Jason mutters darkly, stabbing absently at his pancakes.

Bruce shrugs, "I'm not staring—"

"You're staring." Jason scowls. "Knock it off."

Bruce dips his head in acquiescence. Truth be told, he had been staring. It wasn't often he got to spend any real time with Jason, even less so out of their suits.

Before he'd died, Bruce had known Jason inside out. How his shoulders raised when he was nervous, or the way he twitched his nose before a lie. The cowslick that fluffed up his curls and the dimple on his right cheek. How he walked and talked and slept and ate. A thousand tiny details only a father could see.

Jason is so different now. So much bigger than Bruce had ever imagined; broad and tall and strapping. His face has filled out, with a handsome brow and strong jaw. And his skin is free of so many of the scars he had before. Even his eyes are different. Now a golden green, instead of the deep blue they had been before.

But there are still tells of the old Jason hiding there, just beneath the surface. Bruce just had to keep the younger man around long enough to rediscover them.

Like the way he still clicks his tongue when he's bored, or rocks on his heels when he's impatient. How he pushes his hair to the right (Bruce can't believe for a second he's brushing it) just like fifteen year pld Jason did, or huffs a breath through his nose when he's annoyed.

All the signs that the Jason who was and the Jason who is, are the same sweet boy are there. And Bruce doesn't to miss a single one. There's already so much he missed.

"What happened to your face?" Bruce asks, reaching his hand for Jason's jaw.

Jason bats his hand away, looks at Bruce as though he's lost his mind. "Probably the three hundred goons I had to fight last night?" He bristles.

Bruce ignores his son's irritation. He touches a finger to his own cheek. "You're bleeding." He taps twice. "Just here." There are more than a few similar marks, but Bruce doesn't want to push his luck.

Jason bristles again, cheeks turning pink. "I cut myself shaving." He says, and swipes at the cut with the cuff of his hoody.

Damian makes a clicking noise with his tongue, and Bruce knows the barb is coming. "I'm amazed you haven't taken your own head off." He snarks.

Jason shoves his chair away from the table, temper flaring. "Well it's not like anyone ever taught me, is it." He hisses. "That's enough of this haunted old dump. I'm out."

He heads for the door. Bruce watches him go with a pang in his chest.

~

It's almost six weeks before Bruce sees Jason without the Hood again. The younger man is coming off the back of a nasty toxin, has missed patrol for most of the week after being hit by some of Poison Ivy's spores.

Bruce knocks on his apartment door mid-morning. Knows the recovery period is just about over.

Jason opens the door in his pyjamas, groggy and unkempt. "What do you want?" He grunts.

Bruce holds up the bag in his hands, he's brought supplies. "I brought supplies." He says.

Jason eyes him for a moment, like he's considering slamming the door in Bruce's face.

"The supplies include chocolatines." Bruce adds.

Jason makes a face of disgust. "It's a pain au chocolat you animal." But he steps back to let Bruce through.

Bruce makes his way to the kitchen. Tries not to despair at the run down apartment Jason is living in. Doesn't want to scare him off by offering to buy him the best the city can offer.

Instead he busies himself with making tea, sets the pastries out on a plate.

Jason slouches at the kitchen table. He still looks wiped out from the toxin. Skin pale and stubble almost beard. He watches Bruce with narrowed eyes.

"Et voila." Bruce says, placing the Earl Grey down in front of the younger man. Just a dash of milk, no sugar.

He tears off part of one of the croissant, dips it in his own tea.

Jason wrinkles his nose at the gesture, but doesn't say anything.

"How're you feeling?" Bruce asks eventually. The pastires are all but crumbs now, the tea only dregs.

Jason shrugs. "Fine I guess. It wasn't that bad." His shoulders are up by his ears.

"A decent shower and you'll feel much better." Bruce offers.

Jason shrugs again. Doesn't say anything. He eyes the bag of supplies on the chair next to Bruce. "What else did you bring?" He asks.

Bruce takes a deep breath. If he's not careful this idea will go horribly wrong. "Supplies." He says again, and Jason rolls his eyes, so he adds quickly. "Shaving supplies actually."

Jason stares.

"Well, I—" He cuts himself off. Tries again. "I'm a little late." He says. "But if you wanted, I thought I could teach you how to shave."

Jason's cheeks turn pink and he looks like he's fighting back a retort.

There's every chance the younger man will take the suggestion as a slight. And just as many chances that Bruce will scare him off, too familiar too soon.

Jason keeps his eyes fixed on the floor, shrugs his shoulders even higher. "Um. Yeah, okay." He mumbles without looking at Bruce. "Sure."

Bruce tries not to look too excited.

~

He gets Jason to shower first, the warm water softening the skin and hair follicles. Then they stand together in the tiny bathroom, wait for the mirror to defog.

Bruce lays out his supplies beside the sink.

"So you have three options." He says, as he does so. "Option one is your straight razor." He puts the pen-knife looking contraption down. It has a refined wooden handle, and a gleaming silver blade.

"Second is your generic razor." He holds the plastic packaging up that contains the razor. "This one has a moisturising bar. I hear it's the best a man can get." He says with a wink.

Jason rolls his eyes with a grunt, but there's a small smile playing at his lips thst he doesn't quite manage to hide.

"And third." Bruce says, holding up a black box with silver writing. "Is an electric shaver."

He turns to Jason. "What do you reckon?" He asks.

Jason shrugs, eyes his options unsure. "Which one do you use?" He asks.

"I like a straight blade." He says, "but it's not always as convenient as the other options.

Jason shrugs, non-commital.

"Let's start with the straight blade. If you can get this right then the other two are a cake walk."

Jason nods and Bruce pulls out some shaving gel. "Okay, you've already washed on the shower, so first step - lather!" He says, squeezing some of the gel into Jason's hands.

Jason rubs the gel on his face, head tilted back as he looks in the mirror.

"Make sure it covers everywhere you're going to shave." Bruce says, gently guiding Jason's hands down under his chin. "You want it to be a good lather, so really..." He trails off, takes over from where Jason's hands have dropped to make sure the gel is properly applied. Rubs circles over Jason's jaw line and up by his ears. Jason's eyes are distant, as he does, like he's trying not to think about something.

"Okay." Bruce says, after he's rinsed his hands. He picks up the wooden handled razor, pulls the blade out to a right angle. "You want three fingers here, between the scale and the shaft, with your pinky on the tang and your thumb just below the blade."

Jason blinks stupidly. "Huh?"

Bruce holds up his hand to show him. "Like this, see?"

"Then, you want to hold the blade at a thirty degree angle from your face and do short, sharp strokes down your face. In the same direction the hair grows." He hands the razor to Jason. "You don't want to apply pressure, just lightly touch the blade to your face. The angle should do most of the work."

Jason stares at the blade wide eyed. "Err..." He says.

"Do you want me to show you?" Bruce asks. He takes the razor back as Jason nods.

"Okay, tilt your head slightly." He touches his fingers to Jason's chin, gently angles his head. Stands so Jason can see what he's doing in the mirror. "See how I'm holding through blade?" He gently lays the cool metal on the side of Jason's face. "Just short, little strokes." The blade lightly slides not even half an inch down, bringing away the stubble and foam as it does. "You might need to do it a couple of times." Bruce says, repeating the motion. "But nice and easy is the way to go."

"Okay." Jason swallows, then "Show me one more time."

Bruce ends up shaving half of Jason's face. Showing him how to manoeuvre around his ears and down his neck. Under his nose and over his chin.

Jason does the other half. Much slower.

"That's it." Bruce says, tilting with the blade as Jason reaches his neck. "Just take it nice and slow."

Jason finally finishes, turns his face right then left to look in the mirror. Runs a hand over his chin. "Not bad." He shrugs, small smile on his lips. There are two nicks on the side he shaved himself, but nothing too serious.

"Here." Bruce hands him a tiny shred of toilet roll. "Pop these on the cuts."

Jason does so, watches at Bruce gets even more out the bag. "Okay, use the towel to make sure all the gel is off." He says, chuckling as Jason ducks the towel that flies at his face. "Then we moisturise."

He squeezes the aftershave moisturiser into Jason's hands, motions for him to rub it over the freshly shaved skin.

"And that's it." He says. "You're done."

Jason surveys himself in the mirror again. Gives Bruce a small smile before looking away. "Thanks." He says. "I'll have to get me one of these." He hands the straight razor back to Bruce.

Bruce shakes his head. "Keep it." He says. "Just make sure you keep it sharp."

Jason nods, mumbles his thanks. Pretends not to notice the golden T. W. monogram on the handle.

~

"This is foolishness." Damian scowls, face flecked with shaving cream, the remains of a popped balloon in his hand.

Tim jabs him in the ribs with his finger. "If we lose it's all your fault, Damian."

Damian's scowl deepens, Bruce swipes the razor out of his hand before he tries to disembowel Tim with it. "It's just a game boys." He says.

"It's so much more than a game." Steph says with a smirk, waving a perfectly 'shaved' balloon at them. "Looks like the batgirls are going to win again." She says triumphantly, high-fiving Babs.

"I hate game night." Duke groans. His hair is full of shaving cream.

"Sorry I'm late, losers." Jason announces loudly, as he walks through the door. "Some of us have jobs."

"You don't have a job." Cass deadpans.

"Gimme that." Jason ignores her, takes the blade from Bruce. "How many balloons to win?"

"Five, zombie-boy." Babs says. "You don't stand a chance."

Jason gives Bruce a quick wink. "We'll see about that."

Bruce feels his heart skip.

#batfam #batfam fic #spbfic #jason todd #bruce wayne #batfic #batdad #batfamily fanfic

[facts-i-just-made-up]

How do people get married?

All kinds of ways now, but it wasn't always so diverse. Long ago, there were only a few marriages and those were well recorded. In fact, we know the time and date of the very first wedding ever to take place, and have details of the ritual that took place.

The year was precisely 58,891 B.C.E. Though months have shifted since then, we know it took place at summer solstice at midday, and was under the shade of an orchard near the shores of Kuwait Bay.

The wedding was that of Mem and Selek, two hairstylists who decided to merge their lives and hair styling empires after meeting at the 13th annual Proto-Dilmunic Hair Product Expo (which featured the invention of shampoo, which then consisted solely of snake bile). Their romance was well known across the pre-agricultural civilization. It was said in petroglyphs of the era that Mem's love for Selek was such that when he would catch sight of Selek from his barber shop, he would likely shave the entire head of his client while distracted. Selek also loved Mem beyond compare, and was noted by other petroglyphs to frequently give him a "free trim and shave," which was an ancient euphemism for mutual oral sex while dipped in honey in a stone pit, as was the tradition at the time.

The Mem/Selek Wedding took six hours to conduct, and included a feast, an orgy, a combination feast/orgy, another feast, and a brief ceremony involving the smashing of a cup. As glass had not yet been invented, the cup was stone and this took up most of the time. Following this ceremonial act, there was another feast, a retelling of the entire history of civilization (thankfully as civilization was only a few weeks old at this point it didn't take long) and another orgy.

Of their future together we know little, except that they did not ever divorce, and they lived to the old age of 900 years, which confused everyone until some archaeologist figured out that they were using lunar years. But their wedding ceremony caught on and was for over ten thousand years the standard wedding ceremony across the entire span of humanity, which in those days covered almost 50 square miles.

#marriage #mawidge #weddings #history #unreality

[aforrestofstuff]

Chapter 173 Expert Review: The "Hey, my boyfriend saw you across the bar and we really dig your vibe" Edition

The cover makes me so uncomfortable it's like I'm at a party and said something weird just as the music went quiet and everyone heard and they're all looking at me and everyone hates me and I'm so anxious and

Welcome to the Chapter 173 Expert Review! I have completely lost count of how many of these I've done. If you're coming here for a well-thought-out meta-commentary on the hit series franchise anime manga One Punch Man, then look elsewhere because I put a grand total of ten minutes of thought into this post that took me 45 minutes to write.

I hope you're all well. If you're new here from Twitter then yes, I'm really always like this and I apologize. I don't know how to segway to the actual commentary, so um......... here we gooooooo.....

I don't know what I was expecting. Could I have predicted that Murata would yassify Bofoi? Probably. Do I ever want to come to terms with the fact that he did? No.

Shut up I'm not saying anything. I'm not saying anything. I'm not. He looks like he's wearing those really oversized dentures at Party City. His head looks more like an egg than Saitama's. Why does he still look kinda.... no I'm not gonna say it. I'm not. I'M NOT. GET OUT OF MY HEAAADD RAAAAAAEERERARAAAAWW

I'D FUCK HIM!!!! I'D FUCK BOFOI!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'M TIRED OF PRETENDING HE'S NOT AN ENDEARING SORT OF UGLY OK IM SICK OF IT!!! I'M GONNA DESTROY HIS OLD MAN CERVIX!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I WANNA FUCK HIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

How many enemies has Saitama made just by existing already. Is this number three? Sonic, God, and now Bofoi? Oh, well, I guess Saitama did fuck up his robots but that was self-defense 100% and it WILL hold up in the court of law.

Oh, okay. Now we have a better idea of the timeline since Saitama became a hero.... only two months???? Dude, I've had packages lost in the mail for longer than that.

I kinda thought he'd been a hero for at least six months. I guess what Garou said about coming back to fuck up the heroes after six months at the beginning of his arc was only a sort of red herring to make it seem like he'd be the world-ending Shibabooby prophecy, but in relation to how long Saitama's been a hero, turns out my guy only fucked shit up for like, what? One month?

Was this just obvious to everyone else except me. I really should've never learned how to read dawg.

THANK YOU Amai Mask for being the "Please explain the plot so readers with the comprehension skills of fourth graders can know what's going on" character in this because I swear to fucking god I had no clue what anyone was talking about.

Also, Ninja Leader makes an appearance as Blast's totally super platonic partner. Supposedly they were "searching for a mysterious cube" together. People these days make up such weird euphemisms for skipping work to fuck each other in a ditch, I swear. 🙄🙄🙄

A couple of things:

Is Blast wearing the Ninja Leader's glasses in the present? Oh, so they really were super platonic, huh.

You mean to tell me bro aged THIS MUCH in two years? 700 days ago he was late-twenties rager at Planet Fitness and now he's a 57-year-old salt and pepper daddy at the gay bar?

I guess it could have something to do with his powers, manipulating space-time and all that. Blast teleports through something that is basically a copy-and-pasted black hole, which could explain why time flows differently for him, but doesn't time slow down near a black hole? So he should be aging slower if anything.

So, did God age him? Is this even the same Blast that came in contact with God? Something something uuuhh time travel something something...

I don't fucking know. This could also just be a case of "Murata doesn't know how to draw people that look their age" although he's been getting better about that, at least... Just seems ODD to me that Blast has aged like an avocado in a manga where characters only seem to look younger as time goes by.

Very noble that he's fighting God alone with the Interdimensional Justice League and their Pocket Dimension Pool Table to protect everyone else. Something still feels fishy about this, though........ especially since he's a deadbeat ass dad in the webcomic. I don't trust a GODDAMN thing this boy has to say. I DONT CARE IF HE'S HOT!! And I think that is so brave of me.

Forrest has a theory and everyone's gotta hear about it a million times until he's proven otherwise.

Y'all already heard me say how God has one-sided beef with Saitama because Saitama broke the limiter God had placed on him, and I suppose that alone is still a decent reason for God to be pulled to Earth, but I still think God's full body (and power) is imprisoned in the dimensional seal Blast was screaming about as Saitama was fighting Monster Garou V2.

And Saitama's habit of fucking shit up as collateral for saving the world is further eroding God's jail cell, so he's unknowingly helping his enemy get closer to him. This fucking goober.

It makes sense because the massive body in the seal looks like a fully-formed person, whereas whenever we see God free, he's always a sort of unfinished skeletal figure. He's incomplete.

Is this another one of those things where it seems painfully obvious to everyone else except me. Y'all are free to hop in my inbox and call me a dumbass if you want.

Final thoughts because this review is already too goddamn long and I wanted to shitpost a bit more but I guess I can do that on other posts because I'm TIRED.

All in all, we really needed a good expo-debrief chapter to put everything in perspective because the Monster Association arc was a load of reveals with not a lot of resolutions. I think the ending was still very anticlimactic because, although we were introduced to a lot of shit like God and Blast and whatnot, none of that was really tied up in a satisfying way, nor left on an interesting cliffhanger. Just more and more questions. Even Garou's arc hasn't ended really, and all the development he and Saitama had gone through was forgotten (for NOW, because of Genos' core, but I digress) so it almost feels like... not much really happened at all. Nothing really ended, it was just a collection of more plot threads beginning.

I wish ONE waited a bit longer to really delve into God and Blast because I think the Monster Association arc could've been a lot more comprehensive and well-paced if it had just been (mostly) contained to what was happening between the heroes and monsters. But I can appreciate how comprehensive the plot is now after the fallout, just... the road to get here was rocky. I lost all the tires on my jeep.

I'm excited for Psychic Sisters.

In conclusion: if you were at the Whole Foods down the street and took a blue bike tied to the railing then you're a fucking bitch GIVE IT BACK!! THAT'S MY FUCKING BIKE!!

GIVE BACK MY FUCKING BIKE!!!!! YOU STOLE MY BIKE!!

p.s. -- I'm still waiting for the Zombiedad and Child Emperor Get Milkshakes Together omake. Murata, pls. Also give my bike back.

Thanks for reading. Please, I need my bike.

#opm #one punch man #flashy flash #zombieman #child emperor #meta #saitama #genos #blast #god #amai mask #garou #metal knight

[kaalee]

Charlie Spring is still not over Nick Nelson

***new chapter update!!

This is a Choose Your Own Adventure story, one with multiple endings 💜

SUMMARY:

Charlie is in his 20's, out walking in a park and finds a lost dog.

Little does he know the dog in question belongs to Nick Nelson, his unrequited (seriously massive) crush from when he was in school. Charlie rescues Nellie and hijinks ensue...

EXCERPT:

Charlie swallows and glances up at the sky for a moment. He doesn’t even know how all of this is happening right now. Truly, what is he going to say? Hi, Nick, I’m Charlie. You probably don’t remember me from Truham but I’ve been basically in love with you since I was 14, so yeah, I’m happy to take care of your dog - and that’s not even a euphemism - but then afterward will you please make out with me for hours and then fall in love with me so we can do every naughty thing I’ve been trying not to think about doing with you for the past ten years?

#heartstopper #nick nelson #charlie spring #nick and charlie #nick x charlie #nick/charlie #my fic