French media using the words “success” “spectacular fireworks” “brilliant military success” “a great tactical victory” to describe the terrorist attack against Lebanon. A child was killed but it’s defined as a brillant success.
If you still define yourself as Zionist I don’t care what is your definition of Zionism you’re a fucking piece of shit.
When terrorists took hostages in France in 2015 absolutely nobody was calling to blow up the kosher supermarket where it was happening, absolutely nobody was okay with randomly shooting in the supermarket. You know why? Because it would have been horrific nobody in their right mind would do that, but the only reason they saw the horrors it would have been was because the innocent victims would have been white people. But when the innocent victims are identified as Arab suddenly it’s acceptable collateral damage best case scenario the pieces of shit say they shouldn’t have existed near a terrorist (and by terrorist what they mean is any adult man they identify as Arab) worst case scenario they say that a 10 months old baby killed was a terrorist himself.
So from the bottom of my heart fuck you. I don’t care about your feelings I don’t care that you think you are righteous. If you have any form of sympathy for “Israel” or for Zionism if you still define yourself as neutral you’re a piece of shit and I hope you know that. I hope you also know that if you ever feel like shit for unrelated reasons it’s actually your worthless brain trying to be of use for once and making you realize you’re a fucking waste of space because of how heartless you are.
229 notes
·
View notes
Anything You Could Do, I Could Do Better!
Summary: You and your academic rival do what academic rivals do, trying to one-up each other in grades. But the thing is, both of you are teachers.
Characters/Pairing(s): Hongjoong X Reader
Genre: humor
AUs/Trope info: Reverse Academic Rivals,
Word Count: 500+
Warnings: none??????
Rating: 16+
A/N: for @cultofdionysusnet's reverse trope event! Thank you to @kwanisms for helping with this!!!
It’s a new school year, which means, it's a new opportunity to crush your rival, Kim Hongjoong, in a battle of wits.
You see, that would’ve been much more appropriate if both of you weren’t high school teachers. And if you both weren’t vicariously continuing this feud through which class could get a higher grade point average.
"My God, Hongjoong! You’re delusional if you think your class is going to get the higher GPA this quarter! It’s impossible,” you yell at him from across the faculty parking lot, your anger reaching a boiling point after he provoked you with yet another bet for this school year. “You suck at teaching and everyone knows it!”
“Oh, get over yourself,” he yells back, slamming the door of his car shut. “You’re just salty that my students love my class while they drone over your miserable little classroom that feels more like a prison cell,” he continues, power-walking in your direction. “You won’t even let them bring snacks, you Karen!”
“Oh, please!” you retort, rolling your eyes. “The only reason they like you is because you let them slack off! And Besides,” you continue, narrowing your eyes as he draws closer. “My classroom has these fuck ass linoleum floors that basically adheres food crumbs to it. I don’t want my room to have rats, especially if they look like you.”
He gasps, dramatically so, one hand over his gaped mouth and the other over his chest. “This has to constitute a hate crime, this is rodent discrimination. Everyone knows I’m a squirrel.”
You roll your eyes, “Save the ‘woe is me’ cries for someone who cares, Kim. I’ll see you after this quarter when my class destroys yours!”
Hongjoong’s class was, in fact, not destroyed by yours.
The final results came in and in fact, both your classes had the same GPA down to the decimal point.
Of course, from that confrontation, the both of you stormed over to the guidance counselor, demanding a recount, or at least a reason for this “impossible” tie.
“This is ridiculous!” You said, slapping the flimsy piece of paper over her desk, “There is no way that this guy’s class got the same GPA as mine!”
Hongjoong scoffs, “You act like we weren’t in the same education classes in college. You’re no better off than I am.”
“Well,” The counselor started, “Both of you were being really annoying about this feud, it was funny at first, but both of you need to get over this. You’re adults, not only that, you’re responsible for the education of the future professionals of this country. I’d expect both of you to prioritize the students’ education over this silly competition.”
The counselor clears her throat, “Enough,” she said as she stood up from her chair, “There is no mistake in the transcripts. Both of your classes scored the exact same, down to the decimal.”
Both of you look at each other. “But, how is that possible?” Hongjoong asked, just as confused as you were.
Both of you lower your head in shame.
“Now, this feud ends today. No more trying to live your rivalry through these kids.” She sits down again, waving both of you off.
You stand in front of the door to the driver’s side of your car, as did Hongjoong. With a silent agreement to end this rivalry, and call for peace.
Which only lasted until the next school year, much to the chagrin of everyone else.
71 notes
·
View notes
TOLERATE IT | Joel Miller
SUMMARY: an argument with joel doesn’t end the way that you think it will.
PAIRING: joel miller x afab!reader. (established relationship)
WARNINGS: very short piece. angsty argument so if u do nawt want to read, then skip <3. i’m in the middle of an argument with my bf and instead of feeding into it, i have immortalized it into my writing 😊 sorry joel for being my proverbial punching bag ! maybe ill make a part two if we ever make up LOL.
Fat tears spill over the swollen apples of your cheeks faster than you can wipe them away with the already much-too-wet sleeve of your sweatshirt, and the room starts to spin.
Your face is damp with salty—bittersweet—upset, and a splitting migraine is beginning to fester away at the inside of your fucking brain.
“You can’t keep doing this.” Joel stands with both hands on his hips while you’re sat cross-legged on the couch, a cushion sat plump in your lap. “Can’t keep cryin’ whenever we have an argument—“
“But you’ve upset me, Joel!” Almost incoherently, you blabber. “You can’t expect me to be cool with the fact that you were flirting with some—some skank last night!”
He drags his left hand over his face. Joel exerts an exasperated sigh. He doesn’t know how many more hours he can argue with you about this, before he says something that he’s going to regret.
“I know. I was wrong, and I shouldn’t have done it—but why the fuck are you still crying?!” Joel barks. “It’s been hours, baby! Can’t we move past this—“
“No! We can’t!” Scraping your hand across your eyes—all tears immediately drying up—you stand to attention. You smack the pillow onto the couch in complete and utter fucking fury. “It’s been four years of us, Joel. Four fucking years that I thought we were happy—but apparnelty you’re not! Are you bored of me, or something?!”
“No!” Defensively, he exclaims. He’s just as annoyed as you, now. Though he has no place to be. “I don’t know what came over me—“
“Four years. Forty-Eight months I’ve spent being by your side—completely faithful—and you think it’s okay to just fuck around on me?!”
“I’m not fuckin’ around on you!” Mood—and tone—matching, he counters. “I love you. But I was hammered last night—“
I was hammered. I wasn’t thinking straight. I don’t know what came over me.
BULLSHIT. You’ve heard it all before and, frankly, you’re sick of it. The excuses, the lies…Dating a prolific man-whore isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be, actually.
“You need to get your act together.” With a shaking hand, you point at him. Your finger is trembling against his flannel. “If you want this to work, then you’ll stop lying to me—“
“I’m. Not. Fucking. Lying.” Through gritted teeth, he says.
Joel has confessed his wrongdoings, but it’s not enough. To you, he owes you more than just an explanation.
“I don’t believe you.” Devoid of any emotion—any feeling—you state. “You told me that you were going to Tommy’s last night to watch the Cowboys game. But Tommy came here at six o’clock asking for you, and said that they weren’t even fucking set to play! You’re a fucking liar, Joel!”
He backs away with both hands up, completely defeated. You’re tenacious, when you want to be. Sanctimonious. He knows he’ll never win an argument, so he walks away to leave you alone with time to cool off.
But to you—to most people—that’s him giving up.
Joel takes the keys to his truck from the fruit bowl beside the front door, grabs his jacket and unlocks the front door.
He turns to you without even so much as a smile. “Call me when you’re ready to have an adult fucking conversation.”
Joel slams shut the door and you begin to fume all over again. To your left is a picture of the two of you last summer—when you were happy and carefree in Mykonos—and you know that it won’t do anything to help the issue, but you grab it. With a firm hand, you launch it at the door.
Fragments of glass shatter against the door, the floor and fly across the room in every which direction perfectly depicting the current state of your heart after Joel started to break it.
Your eyes are streaming again, hearing his truck peel away from the sidewalk and to god-knows fucking where.
But there’s no use in crying over him anymore. You just need to tolerate it. Tolerate this. Because Joel knows it’ll take more than an “I’m sorry” to really make it up to you.
80 notes
·
View notes
Prompt 170
Once again on my Ras & Danny being training rivals thanks to time travel bullshit.
Look, Danny knows about the league of Assassins, but he almost dies of laughter when he realizes it’s the modern name of the league of Shadows. He’s an adult now, has been for a while, he’s allowed to find the situation he’s found himself in amusing. Hell, his sparring buddy who is somehow still alive is laughing too.
And no one else knows what’s going on, okay? This random man walked into their secret base, completely ignored the many assassins trying to stop him, and called their illustrious leader a “Little Bitch Man” and they are now fighting?
The fighting is familiar, but why the fuck is Ras cackling and saying things like “Ayreh Feek” back. Practically saying “Fuck you,” while laughing and oh Pit, they’re Bantering this is terrifying, why has Ras not won yet, why has this man not died yet and- bodies aren’t supposed to bend like that what the fuck-
Ras on the other hand, has One friend, who is immortal like him, actually remembers the shit he complains about, is also down for saving endangered animals, and actually knows how to spar! It’s not a proper spar unless someone loses at least a hand that has to be reattached! And honestly, people nowadays should know that the proper greeting to an old friend is to instantly try to kill the other.
2K notes
·
View notes