the figures of rhetoric


I am actually sick with a cold at the moment. *thumbs up* This is the virus that never ends. It seemed like I was starting to turn a corner, and then it was like ‘haha no, here’s the sequel!’ I’m unimpressed. Just imagine me staring into the camera like I’m in The Office.

A quick summary for those new to the game: I have the SDHD gene fault, also known as Hereditary PGL PCC, which is a hereditary genetic neuroendocrine cancer disease (the most inheritable genetic cancer disease in the world along with the other SDH~ faults). For me, it causes tumours called paragangliomas to grow primarily in the head/neck. I think of them as koalas clinging to my nerves and arteries.

I have a 50% chance of metastasis at any point, and this disease is incurable. I grew a very rare form of tumour called a carotid body paraganglioma at 18 that was removed. Now, at 35, I have three paragangliomas - a glomus vagale para (the rarest type, at a 1 in 5 million occurrence rate) called Thelma, a carotid body para called Louise and a glomus tympanicum or glomus jugulare para called Caramello that’s currently too small to be seen on MRI, but has been spotted on the PET scan. I am very good at growing these paragangliomas and my ENT surgeon called me a ‘tumour machine’ and I call myself a ‘tumour incubation factory.’ Managing my case are: an Endocrinologist, a Radiation Oncologist, an ENT Surgeon, a Vascular Surgeon and a Neurosurgeon. (Or as I like to call them, a boy band).

(The rest under a Read More cuz there’s a lot).

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tbh i hate when in tf stuff they just…. like take off outer bits of themselves (like in a recent comic they had soundwave w/out his helm??? wh?) i dunno i dont really like the ‘they’re pretty much human protoform figures with chunky armor’ rhetoric i see sometimes, like

i dont like the 'naked’ tf stuff. i just like them as they are, nice and boxy

Xeno - 2

Plot: The best part about being an assistant in a lab was watching all new inventions come to life, although sometimes some of them fail, leaving them away in a storage room, never to be bothered with; free for the taking.

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader | Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Fluff, (eventual)Smut, Futuristic au!

Notes: So I listened to Death of a Bachelor while writing this and I HONESTLY FEEL LIKE TAE WOULD LIKE the song. Idk, it’s a good song. Anyway, loving the support guys, keep it coming <3 Thank you. 3.1k Words

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Originally posted by bwinkook


It had been two hours since TA3 had woken up, and the first thing you did was give him some water – his lips were dry and pale. You had actually written down every observation you had made of him on a notepad, every minute that passed. So far, all he had done was binged on a few fruits, and drank five glasses of water. They were very human habits – nothing out of the ordinary.

He marched across your apartment, and scanned everything you had – the holographic pictures, the drawers, even your wardrobe. Everything just seemed so interesting to him; if you were honest, you found that very adorable, it was like watching a little kid. 

All you needed to figure out was how the experiment worked, what he exactly did. The only thing you were aware of was that he was a guard or some sort; a sentient. There were multiple possibilities running through your mind of what he could have been assigned to do – probably a bodyguard for a government official of some sort.

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replied to your post

“Another thing I’m tired of seeing is that ‘Goro would know how to…”

doesn’t he literally say “no one ever would have guessed such an m.o.” with a pained look on his face when the p. thieves tell him how it works

He did indeed. Both his sprite and his model’s action show distress, when given an answer to the question he prompted. From how he posed that question at that time, he really wanted to know right there and then. He couldn’t let such a burning question sit.

It’s also interesting to note that he’s had this power for a long time, and he noted having not solved the mystery. Hindsight has even more weight on that moment.

Dinner Party {Reader Insert}

Imagine: What happens when three vampires and a hybrid take a liking to the new kid in town?

Summary: Two pairs of brothers host a dinner party to celebrate the arrival of Mystic Falls’ new resident. Little do they know, the new girl isn’t all that she seems.

Request?: No, just a random thought that was inspired by this scene. Bit of a ramble if I’m honest.

Word Count: 2932.

Taglist: Do let me know if you would like to be tagged in any of my writings.

Disclaimer: The gif used is not mine, credits to the user that made it. I do not own any of the characters written about in this piece, credits to the writers and producers of TVD.

A/N: First piece of writing up! I’m not too sure if I’m all that happy with this. The idea sounded better in my head than it does on paper. But still, enjoy, my little bookworms 🖤

Originally posted by damonandelena

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I think that Black Panther coming soon is important for non black audiences as well.

Representation really matters. In Mexico, before the 2000s, the only local content that had black characters in it was Memín Pinguín, which, in spite of the ostensibly good messages it tried to transmit, drew Memín and his mother to be very ugly and with exaggerated minstrel characteristics compared to the non black characters. Afro mexicans were ignored in society–the only exposure a lot of Mexicans have had to black people is to Americans in movies and music. Even then, the rhetoric was very ugly: figures like former president Fox, even, are on public record for saying things like “mexicans [living in the US] do jobs that not even blacks will do.”

When I was a kid, I was fortunate to have access to channels like Cartoon Network, Nickelodeon, and Disney growing up. My Green Lantern was Jon Stewart; I had a huge crush on Static Shock and I admired the kids from the Proud Family because they were closer to me in age than the super heroes, but just old enough to be cooler and more mature. Numbuh 5 was my favourite agent from Kids Next Door. Kenan and Kel and Raven perfected the teen sitcom before Drake and Josh did, and their episodes always brought a smile to my face. Out of the Box’s black and asian hosts were always very friendly and creative and had new and exciting things to present each episode. Series like that taught me a lot of good lessons growing up, and they also taught me that seeing black characters in media was normal.

Now with more media having black characters in them than before in many cases, that exposure to black people is very positive. Lupita Nyongo’s success after 12 Years a Slave meant Mexican media was fawning over her and completely falling over each other to point out that she’s Mexican: she was in fact born here. Besides the hypocrisy of the fact that they would’ve treated her like shit had she tried to start her career here (not to mention how actresses like Salma Hayek condescended to her with “wow her Spanish is surprisingly good!!”), it was really a surprise to see Mexico take pride in her despite her being black, to accept her as a Mexican.

I want to see Black Panther do well in markets outside the US. Wonder Woman was a big hit too and showed that big budget super hero movies with a woman lead can perform even better than movies with male leads. I want to see that happening for a black film like Black Panther, too. I want non black kids to come out of the movie theatres thinking that seeing black characters in media is a normal, positive thing.

Ok, here’s my two cents on why I don’t understand people who think that telling the whole story of the American Revolution is “desanctification” (if you don’t know what I’m talking about, please refer to this article):

I do sort of understand where this comes from - we have a mythology about American exceptionalism that forms the cornerstone of our patriotism. We’re taught as children not an American history, but an American legend, about how a group of practically mythological Founding Fathers were brought forth on this continent through Manifest Destiny to invent democracy and make America a freedom-loving superpower. To doubt those legends is to doubt the greatness of our country, and thus ourselves. And that scares people. How can we be proud of ourselves if our country is flawed? 

Look at George Washington. We, as children, are taught four things about him: that he said “I cannot tell a lie” after chopping down a cherry tree, that he crossed the Delaware, that he was our first president, and that he had wooden teeth. 

Only two of those things are true, and only one, the last one, is negative in any way. Even then it’s not a true negative, more of a throwaway joke. We joke, but we never talk about the real effect that having no teeth would have on your life in the 18th century. How the constant pain from (not wooden) dentures would have effected you constantly. We also don’t talk about his many losses in battle, his fear of public speaking, or his conflicting views about slavery. Those things would truly make George Washington human.

The people who complain about revisionist history, I think, view the story as a zero-sum game. If a mistake or a character flaw of a historical figure gets mentioned, then that must be taking away from the good things they did. If time is given to talk about the experience of a minority figure, less time must have been taken to talk about a more typical figure. That’s where the “Won’t Someone Think of the Dead White Males” rhetoric comes from - we’re talking about them less (supposedly), and we’re talking about them less favorably, therefore the American public will no longer see their accomplishments, and America, as exceptional. If Washington isn’t sacred, then nothing is.

Me, I feel just the opposite. What good does it do to put this select group on a pedestal? If the founders were truly gods, sent down from Heaven to save us all, then what they did wouldn’t have been exceptional. And what lesson could we mortals learn from that, if we are so little in comparison? I much prefer my historical figures down on earth: they laugh, they cry, they insult each other, they oppress others, they make mistakes. A group of living, breathing, completely ordinary people were able to cobble together a new country and somehow make it function. How amazing is that? That’s the lesson we should be teaching each other: that if these ordinary citizens managed to work together to overcome impossible odds despite their differences and despite their flaws, then we can too.  


94% of hate crimes against South Asians motivated by anti-Muslim sentiment, report says

  • The South Asian Americans Leading Together published a report on Wednesday documenting hate violence against South Asian, Arab, Middle Eastern, Sikh, Hindu and Muslim communities from November 2015 to November 2016. 
  • SAALT reported 207 instances of hate violence and xenophobic political rhetoric.
  • That’s an alarming 34% increase within less than one-third of the time covered in their 2011-2014 report Under Suspicion, Under Attack.
  • The new report found:
  • 140 incidents of hate violence of which 94% were influenced by anti-Muslim sentiment.
  • 67 instances of xenophobic political rhetoric used by key political figures and presidential candidates; 1 in 5 of these documented comments were by President-elect Donald Trump. 
  • 96% of all incidents of xenophobic political rhetoric were motivated by anti-Muslim sentiment.
  • A total of 196 incidents, or 95%, of all documented hate violence and xenophobic political rhetoric were motivated by anti-Muslim sentiment. Read more

follow @the-movemnt

Kouri rewatches Sense8 2.04

  • Lito’s dramatic freak-out in the museum will forever be one of the best parts of this show
  • As much as I love Bug and I’m glad he got clued in and his reaction was hilarious, I can’t believe we got to see his reaction but we didn’t get to see Hernando and Dani’s (presuming that Lito does actually clue them in at the end of this season, like he says he’s going to).
  • Poor Kala and Capheus just want to live in peace
  • This might just be the chemistry nerd in me but it amuses me that they say an androgen booster would inhibit emotional connection, since androgens are just male hormones…
  • Lito: “I think maybe he was a lover” like everyone else has not already figured this out lmao
  • “The only thing I hate more than rhetorical questions are stupid rhetorical questions” I aspire to give as few fucks as Mrs. Cho when I get old
  • I love this scene with Lito and Raoul’s father. I hoped it meant Lito was going to take a more active role in the larger mystery. As much as I adored Lito’s storyline in season 2, I’m still really sad he didn’t.
  • Seriously though can you imagine the degree of WTF Raoul’s dad must have felt watching this creepy-ass video after Raoul disappeared
  • The first time I watched this, I assumed that Detective Mun was Woo-Jin, from Sun’s flashback about her first time, but then I noticed that his first name is Kwon-Ho and now I’m just confused.
  • I still have no idea what’s going on with Jonas but I’ve gathered that nobody does so that’s okay.
Paper Hearts

Originally posted by jeoned

drabble: jungkook as your first love. 

It is said that those unlucky enough to lose their first love never truly move on. Each relationship following will be compared to their first lover, every detail carefully examined. It hadn’t been obvious to you at first that you had purposely searched for ideal partners based on your very first, it’s something you had done unconsciously almost as if on instinct. It was playing it safe, sticking to what you knew.

And all that you knew was Jungkook. 

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The antithesis is a wall without a doorway. Leaping this wall is a transgression. Subject to the antithesis of inside and outside, heat and cold, life and death, the old man and the young woman are in fact separated by the most inflexible of barriers: that of meaning. Thus, anything that draws these two antipathetic sides together is rightly scandalous (the most blatant scandal: that of form). It was already shocking (“one of those rare tricks of nature”) to see the two terms of the antithesis so closely linked, pressed together, the young woman’s body and the old man’s; however, when the young woman touches the old man, there is a paroxysm of transgression; it is no longer restricted spatially, it becomes substantial, organic, chemical. The young woman’s gesture is an acting out: whether taken as conversion hysteria (a substitute for orgasm) or as a breaching of the Wall (of Antithesis and of hallucination), the physical contact between these two completely separate substances, the woman and the castrato, the animate and the inanimate, produces a catastrophe: there is an explosive shock, a paradigmatic conflagration, a headlong flight of the two bodies brought together in so unseemly a manner: each of the two partners forms the locus of an overt physiological revolution: sweat and exclamation: each, by the other, is reversed; touched by an extraordinarily powerful chemical agent (for the castrato, the woman; for the woman, castration), the depths are emptied, as in vomiting. This is what happens when the arcana of meaning are subverted, when the sacred separation of the paradigmatic poles is abolished, when one removes the separating barriers, the basis of all “pertinence.” The marriage of the young and old is doubly catastrophic (or, if we prefer, it creates a double-entry system): symbolically, it affirms the non-viability of the dual body, the chimeric body, doomed to the dispersion of its parts: when a supplementary body is introduced, added to the distribution of opposites already effected, this supplement is damned: the excess explodes: gathering becomes scattering; and structurally, as we know, the major figure of rhetorical wisdom, Antithesis, cannot be transgressed with impunity: meaning (and its classifying basis) is a question of life or death: similarly, in copying woman, in assuming her position on the other side of the sexual barrier, the castrato will transgress morphology, grammar, discourse, and because of this abolition of meaning Sarrasine will die.
—  Roland Barthes, “XXVII. Antithesis II: The Marriage,” S/Z

Last week, in Portland, Oregon, a man with a history of white supremacist rhetoric allegedly killed two men and injured one other who had tried to stop his harassment of two young women—one black, the other wearing a hijab. A week earlier, in College Park, Maryland, another young man—active in white supremacist Facebook groups—killed a black college student after confronting him on the street, according to police. In March, a white supremacist reportedly traveled from Baltimore to New York City with the express purpose of killing a black man, which he did, before turning himself into police. Earlier that month, a Sikh man was shot and injured in front of his house in a Seattle suburb. His alleged attacker reportedly shouted “go back to your country.” Days earlier, in Kansas, authorities described how a man walked into a bar and shot three men, including two immigrants from India, after shouting “get out of my country” and yelling racial slurs. One of the Indian men, Srinivas Kuchibhotla, died of his wounds. More recently, a California man was alleged to have stabbed a black man with a machete after yelling racial slurs—he’s facing charges—and a Native American man was run down and killed by an assailant who allegedly shouted racial slurs.

These events are not isolated. They represent a growing tide of intolerance in the United States, fanned by the presidential election and embodied by the sitting president. At the same time, they—and the larger forces they represent—aren’t novel. The rise of racist reaction in politics almost always brings a similar rise of racist violence in civil society. For as much as the current period feels new, we are living through an old, and very American, cycle of behavior.

Nationally, white supremacist and white nationalist activity is on the rise, from more aggressive recruiting online, to active organizing and intimidation on college campuses. Law enforcement officials in cities such as New York have seen a surge in reported hate crimes, and the Southern Poverty Law Center reports an increase in the number of hate groups. All of this takes place against a backdrop of political intolerance. Donald Trump ran for president on a platform of ethno-nationalism, offering interested white voters a chance to express and vote their resentments against Hispanic immigrants, Muslim Americans, and groups like Black Lives Matter. His campaign brought explicitly racist groups, individuals, and institutions into the mainstream, from Steve Bannon—who rode the success of his hate-fueled site Breitbart to a position as a top adviser in the Trump White House—to formerly fringe figures like Iowa Rep. Steve King, who routinely traffics in white nationalist rhetoric.


With Time, It's a Miracle

Read it on Archives:

Prompt: Could you do a super angsty iwaoi mpreg fic where oikawa is pregnant and Iwaizumi doesn’t want the baby but they stay together anyway and its really hard on them and the stress causes oikawa to get really sick and there’s a risk of miscarriage and iwa realises that maybe he does want it after all.

(We’re going on a bumpy ride here with this one…)

Chapter One:

Happiness is such a frivolous thing.

Is the first thought Hajime has after his husband announces his ‘super exciting, extra special life changing’ news to him—it’s the third time this week he’s given him news likes this, so he doesn’t exactly have any high hopes in it being anything not completely ridiculous because it is so like his husband to get excited over the smallest things.

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epiccrasher  asked:

How do you deal with SJWs in real life? I'm going to art school for college next year and let's be honest art school is where most SJWs are. While I don't think they're as bad here (I live in The Netherlands) I'm curious how to deal with them.

Hello! Thanks so much for messaging me and congrats on going to art school! I’m sure it’ll be a wonderful experience for you, even if you’re surrounded by these lunatics. Before delving into ways of dealing with them, it’s useful to understand their worldview since it probably seems so alien from the way most normal people think. For starters, they have a Manichean outlook on the world - everything is either good or evil. Good people agree with them, and people who don’t are evil. That’s their general mindset. What separates them from the rest of us isn’t so much their views alone, it’s their inability to think for themselves, they simply just believe everything they are told. To them, the truth matters less than what is socially advantageous. 

Their view of the world is also horribly two-dimensional and oh so depressing. For example, they believe women are always victims and that blacks need special treatment in order to achieve any kind of success. They claim to be nonjudgmental yet the basis of their entire ideology is judging people based on race, sex, sexual orientation, and gender identity. They pit straight white males against pretty much everyone else in the world and from there, all minority groups are split up and they compete for the title of ‘Most Oppressed.’ 

If you want to engage with them, you first have to throw out any intellectual honesty. An argument comes in two forms: dialectic and rhetoric. Dialectic is investigating the truth primarily using logical syllogisms. Rhetoric is a type of persuasion that uses figures of speech or emotional ploys but lacks meaningful content. These people only understand rhetoric. No matter how many facts you present to them, they’re not going to change their position. So if you want to avoid confrontation with them, the best thing you can do is just go along with their rhetoric and keep any logic or facts to yourself. 

If you want to challenge them, remember to always stay calm. This is hard to do but one important thing to remember when using rhetoric, it’s all about what emotions you trigger in the other person. Don’t give them any excuse to accuse you of being mad or upset, that’s their way of claiming to win the argument and remember, most likely other people are going to be watching or listening so let them embarass themselves and become hysterical while you calmly wipe the floor with them. The moment they start calling you a Nazi or sexist or racist, you’ve already won, their argument is over. There’s no such thing as having an honorable or reasonable debate with them. 

My best advice for you though since you’re only just entering this environment (which I’m sure won’t be as bad as you probably think so don’t stress) is to avoid bringing up your views to begin with, try settle in first and get to know as many people as you can, this way you can find like-minded people and first work out the extent of the craziness on campus. The last thing you want is to be accused of being a right-wing extremist hellbent on raping women and lynching blacks on your first day, save that for when you have more confidence and experience dealing with it. Look around for friends that you can be yourself around. I’m sure your college will have different groups or online groups where you can find other students, so you should take advantage of that opportunity. 

Even though it’s probably best for your own peace and sanity for you to avoid challenging them, if you do get into a political argument with them, make sure you have your facts straight and all of your points clear ahead of time. Watch debates on Youtube and learn from your favorite pundits. Even though you don’t have any chance of changing their minds, as I said earlier, people will be watching and you’ll at least be able to stand your ground against their onslaught of stupidity and people will respect you for that, you may not change their mind but you may give someone else something to at least think about. 

If someone overhears you saying something “problematic” and they accuse you of [insert the plethora of buzzwords] then please, stand up for yourself, do not submit to their silencing methods or their shaming methods otherwise it’s just going to make you look guilty of the thing they’re accusing you of. Calmly defend yourself and don’t ever apologize for speaking the truth, regardless of who it offends. I know it’s easier to just back down and apologize and I wouldn’t blame you for doing that as it can be overwhelming being confronted by a group of deluded angry psychos but please try to find the courage to defend yourself, defend what you have to say and defend free speech. 

Although it’s important to remember that college is about education and acquiring skills for your future so just focus on you and your classes, do your best and be open minded about everyone, even if their politics aren’t great they could still be really nice people. If you feel you are being bullied or harassed for your views though, you can report it and there are organizations to help students with legal matters and they’re usually free so don’t ever feel like you’re alone. I’m sure you won’t find yourself in any of these situations though, it’s easy to have an amazing time at college just by staying out the the politics altogether and by having an incredibly high tolerance of stupidity! So just have fun and make the most of the experience and good luck with it :) xx

anonymous asked:


14: clinging

Coarse language and dark themes in this one.

Jason is stiff behind him on the bike, hands gripped tight to his bandoliers. Tim can feel the warmth of him, even through his thick cape that’s rucked up and half-bundled on the seat between them. 

They smell like blood and smoke and Gotham’s night air. They are bruised and battered. Jason’s throat, Tim knows, must be raw and painful.

And they haven’t really spoken since they got out of the warehouse. They’d dodged the wail of sirens, the flashing lights of cop-cars. Sidled around the Batmobile, but they’re under no illusions. He knew they were there.

He let them leave.

Tim slows it on gunning the bike, glances over his shoulder. “Your place okay, or d’you wanna go to mine?”

Jason’s streaked with sweat and grime; his domino’s loose at one side, dried blood dark and flaking from his nose down to his lip. His helmet, left behind, was a lost cause. And he decides; “Mine.”

So Tim– Red Robin– cuts a right, into Gotham’s more seedy underbelly. Through the dark, increasingly poor streets; cracked building facades, far too many “for sale” signs. Graffiti and broken windows. 

Jason’s territory.

And they don’t speak when Tim parks the bike in a garage a block away from Jason’s apartment. They don’t speak when they go the long way, through an underground tunnel and up through into the building beside Jason’s. Jumping between fire escapes to finally reach Jason’s place.

For Robins, paranoia is mandatory.

And Jason doesn’t seem to mind that Red Robin’s trailing him, even pauses to let him go first. Climbing gracelessly through Jason’s wooden splintered window frame, awkwardly dragging the weight of his cape behind him.

Tim stands uncomfortably in the dark of Jason’s apartment. Unsure what he can– what he should do. And Jason shoulders past him to flick on the light, but it’s clearly for Tim’s sake. He doesn’t pause on his way out of the small, well-used bedroom.

So Tim follows. Unsure, out of place, he stands in the doorway of Jason’s tiny bathroom while the man peels off the domino, scrubbing over his face and hair with cold water. He emerges from under the faucet gasping, hair dripping and only wet in parts, and says, voice rough, “I don’t… have anything to fit you. But there’s some of Dickie’s clothes in the drawer. Left ‘em here after his last misguided attempt at bonding.” 

“Didn’t go well, then?” Tim calls, already on his way back through to Jason’s bedroom. At least Jason finally answered the question Tim wasn’t ready to ask; he doesn’t want to be left alone after all.

“… Does it ever?”

And Tim, dragging off the cowl, figures that’s a rhetorical question. But it’s one that makes him laugh nonetheless. And he takes off his cape and bandoliers, dropping them to Jason’s surprisingly clean floor. Then he sheds the gloves and boots, too, rummaging as neatly as he can through Jason’s clothes.

“That blue one’s his,” Jason says, startling him. Pointing at a t-shirt from the doorway. “And those godawful track-pants, too.”

Grimacing, Tim holds up the shirt. It reads; Shut up and hug me

Jason makes a point of rolling his eyes, says, “Just be thankful the pants don’t have a slogan across the ass.” He’s shed his jacket and shoes, and his hair is dripping, dark spots of damp on his shirt. He looks… uneasy, somehow, not quite right. His mouth is tilted down at the side, posture stiff, and he’s moving stiffly, in short jerks. He says, “I’ve only got the one bathroom. Did you want to shower now, or… ?”

“You go first,” Tim says, quickly. Sees how Jason’s shoulders relax fractionally. “I can order us some pizza while I’m waiting?”

“Yeah,” Jason says. “Yeah, okay.” And then, sounding a little more like himself, “None of that weird shit on it though. No seafood. Nothing fancy and imported, yeah? Like… regular pizza. Pepperoni and stuff.”

“I can do that,” Tim says, grinning crookedly. 

And Jason nods, still like a man dreaming; Tim doesn’t like the set of his mouth. But he shuts the bathroom door behind him and the water starts running, so Tim takes it as a good sign.

He goes into Jason’s kitchen, where there are drying dishes on the sink, a surprisingly well-stocked fridge, but he can’t find a takeout menu anywhere.

He winds up, of course, giving Babs a buzz. She tells him Jason’s usual pizza-place, and his usual order, with a simple; “He okay?” When Tim affirms that yes, he is, she’s even kind enough to connect him to the pizza place. He orders too much, sure to change Jason’s usual order so he doesn’t think he’s being spied on, then sheds the rest of his Red Robin uniform. 

He changes into his borrowed clothes, (that smell like clean laundry rather than Dick himself), and washes his hands and face in Jason’s kitchen sink. 

Then he sits down on Jason’s couch, wondering if it’s too invasive to turn on the TV. But then, he is a Bat. There are many worse things he could do.

He does turn on the TV.

It’s a little while later when Jason– smelling like clean soap and wet cigarette smoke– comes into the sitting room, a towel draped over his shoulder. He’s in what are presumably his pyjamas, a well-worn t-shirt and a pair of Wonder Woman boxer shorts.

For all that he looks better, he also looks worse. There is something in his expression that Tim hasn’t seen in a long time. Something that he doesn’t like.

“You want to wash up?” Jason jerks his thumb over his shoulder, toward the open bathroom door. “I got clean towels and everything.”

“In a bit,” Tim says. “Pizza won’t be long.”

And Jason looks confused for a second. Then, “Oh. Thanks.”

He flops to sit on the couch beside Tim. The laws of physics and second-hand sofas being what they are, the sudden and unexpected weight of Jason has Tim bouncing a little closer, tipping sideways until he and Jason are almost touching.

Jason doesn’t seem to notice, eyes focussed on the TV. But Tim knows he isn’t watching it; not really. And for minutes, they sit. Close enough to feel the warmth along his side, Tim is so far from Jason. Waiting for him to do something, to snap or swear or flip out. To kick him out, to shut down. To announce that “the Batman must die!” and load up on weapons. Tim doesn’t know.

All he knows is, they’re pretending to watch TV in Jason’s cramped apartment. Tim is watching Jason.

“You need the first aid kit?” Tim offers eventually, light, like it doesn’t matter. Eyes barely flicking to Jason.

“Nah,” he says. “Just bruises.” And then, eyes widening, “Are you–?”

Tim smiles then, wry, gestures to himself. “You don’t see it, I don’t have it,” he says. Clarifies, “Just bruises for me, too.”

Jason, eyes finally seeing him, says, “You look like an idiot in that shirt.”

He laughs, shrugging. “Yeah, well. I was going to say somethin’ to insult those boxer shorts, but you’d know my heart wasn’t in it. They’re awesome and I’m jealous.”

Jason gives an uncomfortable little grin, pleased flush going over his cheeks, and says, “Well, yeah.” Laughs, even, a short bark of sound. And all at once, the tension goes out of him, head dropping, and he says, “Shit. Shit.”

“Yeah,” Tim agrees.

“Fucking–“ Jason says, still quiet, starting to shake. “Fucking shit, Tim.”

Adrenaline come-down is a bitch most days. But this… this, Tim can’t imagine.

Cautious, Tim extends a hand out to Jason, who’s still swearing, still shaking. He can’t even see the man’s face.

And he hates himself, for the way he flinches when Jason reaches for him. Blindly, the elder fumbles for him, grasping at air and his arm, his shoulder. Squeezing. His fingers tangle in Dick’s stupid oversized shirt, gripping the fabric tightly. Stretching it, probably.

“Shit,” he’s still saying. “I really– I really thought–“

“I know,” Tim says, quietly. Carefully touching his hands to Jason’s side. “I know. It’s okay, Jace. We’re okay.”

And Jason’s shaking under his hands; he’s shifting his grip on Tim, pulling him closer, and the shitty couch creaks dangerously beneath their combined weight. Jason doesn’t notice, pulling him closer, closer again, until they’re pressed tight together. Though Jason’s grip makes it less like a hug and more like a hold.

“It’s okay,” Tim says again, face against Jason’s faintly damp throat. “It’s okay, it really is.” And, “I’m not… I’m not going anywhere, okay? It’s okay.”

Fuck,” Jason says again. “Just… Jesus. I.”

“You did the right thing,” Tim says, quiet. Voice practically a whisper.

And he feels Jason freeze above him, carefully stops his cringe from showing. Whatever happens from here…

Jason pulls back just far enough to look down at him. Says, voice heavy with incredulity and something else, “I let him live, Tim.”

“You did the right thing for you, Jason,” Tim explains, self-consciously. “This isn’t… don’t make it about him.” 

Jason doesn’t say anything to that, for a long minute. Tim braves a look at his face.

And like that, he knows there won’t be violence tonight. Not between the two of them. Not when Jason’s eyes are large and wet and exactly the same as they’d looked, when he was a 14-year-old kid who Tim had followed everywhere. Who Tim was sure could do anything.

“Yeah,” Jason says. Absent. “Yeah,” and Tim moves closer again, letting Jason reaffirm his grip. Because this is something Jason needs. Because screw clowns, and Gotham, and even Batman on nights like this.

Because Jason was his Robin, and this is something Tim can do. Sit here long enough for Jason to piece himself back together. To make distinct the memories of then and now. That warehouse and this one. 

This time, they’d walked away.

And Tim… thinks about what Dick Grayson would do. Because Tim Drake has never been as good at this. 

So he readjusts Jason’s grip on him, to make it a little more comfortable, but is sure to press closer so Jason knows he’s sticking around. He wraps one arm around Jason to return the hug, tucking his head firmly under Jason’s chin. With his other hand, he squeezes Jason’s wrist. Gently rubbing his thumb back and forth over the bone.

“We’re okay,” he says, because it bears repeating.

And he ignores, from the corner of his eye, the Bat-shaped shadow, outside of Jason’s window. And Jason ignores it too.


anonymous asked:

Ever heard of Stonewall? Yes, a trans woc DID start the pride movement. Also I found some terf rhetoric on your blog. Figures.

Yeah I’ve heard of Stonewall. If you’re referring to Marsha P Johnson, he identified countless times through out his life (including in an interview 10 days before his death) that he was a GNC gay man and preferred masculine pronouns and names. As for Sylvia Rivera, whilst I no doubt agree she was trans, there are several people who said she wasn’t even there, including Marsha P Johnson.
Stormé DeLarverie, a black, butch lesbian, was actually widely reported and witnessed to be the person who incited the riots.

Shenanigans | MGC

Summary: When badboy Michael gets on your nerves you decide to get revenge on him, until it backfires on you.

Relationship: badboy!Michael/[Y/N]

Word Count: 1166 [ik it’s short I’m sorry]

You knew your school was based on your status and that was probably one of the most difficult things for you because you managed to be in your own private status.

You weren’t a loser but you weren’t popular and you especially did not have every guy swooning over you. You were in the happy middle and you were happy with the friends you had as you were all minding your own business having a good time. 

Until one day. 

That was the day you met Michael Clifford. Met is probably an understatement because he wasn’t new and you had seen him around school but he was by far the most popular guy in your school’s stupid hierarchy. 

Keep reading

Times like these, I have to wonder how my grandmother felt in WWII Germany. And I’m trying to figure out how to forgive the rhetoric that nearly killed her, and did kill some of my family, and permanently traumatized the rest. So many lives ruined. 

I’m glad she made it through. I’m glad to be here. I’m glad her suffering meant something. And I’m glad she’s not here to see the state of things today. My heart hurts.