Hi 👋
I hope you are fine 🤗
I'm writing to you with a full of hope that you will help me by donating, sharing, or reblog the gofundme link, as I need those donations to save my family from the war that destroyed my home, my work, and some of my family members 😢😥
Every donation, sharing, or reblog contributes to saving our lives from this war 😢🙏
Thank you for your trust and support 🌹
here's a reblog, sorry I can't do more :(
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And why? Cultural norms? Personal schedule? “Cause I’m always late to everything”?
Bonus points: Region and/or ethnicity?
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I'm writing this post to bring attention to the GFM campaign of @salahmanarfamily / @salahahmed90, a father of two in Gaza.
Salah has been working hard to promote his family's campaign every day for almost a month now, and yet, despite all the effort he's put in, they've only received a little over 70 donations.
If you have money to spare, please consider donating!
This is a campaign that is very low on funds.
-> GFM Link
The campaign has been verified by @/90-ghost.
€1,572 / €70,000
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I am loudly pushing the batdad agenda i am loudly pushing the— DPxDC Prompt
“Woah. You look like shit."
Granted, that’s probably not the first thing Danny should be saying to the guy that just bit the curb, but in his defense; he’s not running on 100% right now either.
The man -- tall, towering, and broader than Danny is tall -- whips around on his heel, black frayed cape flaring out impressively. Danny would've whistled in appreciation, but he takes the time instead to wipe the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing the blood running from his nose across his cheek.
"Sorry." He blinks widely, not even flinching as the man with the horns zeroes in on him. "That was rude of me. I have a really bad brain-to-mouth filter; Sam says its what always gets me into trouble."
And she's not wrong either, per say. His smart mouth is what landed him in this situation -- with blood blossom extract running through his veins and cannibalizing the ectoplasm in his bloodstream. Thanks Vlad.
The man grunts at him; a short, curt "hm" that shouldn't make Danny smile, but he does because he's somewhat delirious and probably concussed. The man keeps some kind of distance, sinking towards the shadows of Gotham's alleyway like he dares to melt right into it.
If it's supposed to scare Danny, it doesn't work. Danny's never been afraid of the dark; he's always been able to hide himself in it. He blinks slowly at the mass of shadows.
"You look hurt." The shadows says, blurring together around the edges. Danny squints, and licks his lips to get the blood dripping down his chin off. Ugh, he hates the taste of blood.
"I am." He says, "My godfather poisoned me. M'dying." The agony of the blood blossom eating him from the inside out looped back around to numbing a while ago, so all he feels is half-awake and dazed.
"Hey," Danny stumbles forward towards the man, a bloodied hand reaching out to him. "You-- you're a hero, right? You're not attacking me; which is more than I can say for most costumed people I've met." Maybe it's a poor bar to judge someone at, but he's already established that Danny's not in his right mind.
The man makes no change in expression, but Danny realizes blearily that it's hard to tell with the shadows on his face. He stays still long enough for Danny to latch onto the cape -- stretchy, but almost soft under his fingers.
He looks up blearily into the whites of the man's eyes. "Can you help me? I don't-- I don't wanna die." Again. He doesn't wanna die again. He blinks slow and lizard-like. "I mean- I'll probably get to see mom and dad again, but I told them I'd at least try and make it to adulthood."
There's a clatter down the street, and Danny's ghost sense chills up his spine and leaves a bitter, ashy taste in his mouth. He immediately knows who it belongs to even before the deceptively gentle; "Daniel?" echoes down the way.
"Daniel? Quit your games, badger, Gotham is dangerous for children."
Danny's mouth pulls back, and blood spills against his tongue. "Please." He rasps, and grabs onto the shadow's cape with both hands. "Please. He's going to kill me. Please--"
"Daniel? Is that you?"
His lips part, dragging in air to plead with the darkness again. He doesn't need to, the whites of his eyes narrow, and the cape whirls around him before Danny can blink. Soon swaddled in shadows, the Night lifts him up, and steals him away.
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Today my therapist introduced me to a concept surrounding disability that she called "hLep".
Which is when you - in this case, you are a disabled person - ask someone for help ("I can't drink almond milk so can you get me some whole milk?", or "Please call Donna and ask her to pick up the car for me."), and they say yes, and then they do something that is not what you asked for but is what they think you should have asked for ("I know you said you wanted whole, but I got you skim milk because it's better for you!", "I didn't want to ruin Donna's day by asking her that, so I spent your money on an expensive towing service!") And then if you get annoyed at them for ignoring what you actually asked for - and often it has already happened repeatedly - they get angry because they "were just helping you! You should be grateful!!"
And my therapist pointed out that this is not "help", it's "hLep".
Sure, it looks like help; it kind of sounds like help too; and if it was adjusted just a little bit, it could be help. But it's not help. It's hLep.
At its best, it is patronizing and makes a person feel unvalued and un-listened-to. Always, it reinforces the false idea that disabled people can't be trusted with our own care. And at its worst, it results in disabled people losing our freedom and control over our lives, and also being unable to actually access what we need to survive.
So please, when a disabled person asks you for help on something, don't be a hLeper, be a helper! In other words: they know better than you what they need, and the best way you can honor the trust they've put in you is to believe that!
Also, I want to be very clear that the "getting angry at a disabled person's attempts to point out harmful behavior" part of this makes the whole thing WAY worse. Like it'd be one thing if my roommate bought me some passive-aggressive skim milk, but then they heard what I had to say, and they apologized and did better in the future - our relationship could bounce back from that. But it is very much another thing to have a crying shouting match with someone who is furious at you for saying something they did was ableist. Like, Christ, Jessica, remind me to never ask for your support ever again! You make me feel like if I asked you to call 911, you'd order a pizza because you know I'll feel better once I eat something!!
Edit: crediting my therapist by name with her permission - this term was coined by Nahime Aguirre Mtanous!
Edit again: I made an optional follow-up to this post after seeing the responses. Might help somebody. CW for me frankly talking about how dangerous hLep really is.
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Sandwiches
So! Clark is a Kid, and he is making a sandwich, but the Ketchup he puts on it accidentally makes a Summoning Sigil.
He turns around to find a Glowing Eldritch Being floating behind him.
He stares at the Eldritch Beast.
The Eldritch Beast stares at him.
Clark wordlessly picks up 2 more slices of bread, makes a other sandwich, and offers it to Being.
It takes the Sandwich, looks at him, and smirks before saying, "Not bad." And disappearing.
The next day, Clark's parents told him that they were going to have an extremely bountiful Harvest that year, and that they would be able to pay off all of their remaining Debts, lifting all of the stress that he had seen them begin to accumulate over the years.
Later that week during the Party to celebrate their success, Clark sneaks away with a plate of Food, draws that same circle on his favorite Tree, and leaves the Plate of food alongside a note saying "Thanks!"
And thus was the start of an incredible, but rather strange, friendship.
(BTW I left the specific Ghost blank to play around with, cause maybe it wasn't Danny)
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star abducted :3
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Of Tiny Tots, Mistaken Identities, and Reunions
Seventeen year old Damian Wayne is dragged to a business deal outside of Gotham (along with his father and Drake), mostly to keep up appearances that the family does work outside of Gotham, networking, and because Damian does need to learn the ropes of the company, he decides to head outside the meeting with the Manson family to get a breather (mainly cause the Manson's were annoying him fully, it was like they were trying to suck up towards Damian and trying to push their daughter on him but at the same time he caught them almost insulting and hostile towards him before they would stop and correct themselves) when out of the blue a three year old toddler with black hair comes running over with a cheerful "Daddy!" and latches onto his leg.
Damian is stunned in place but feels frozen when he hears a voice, older and almost identical to his own but he can detect a familiarity in it, a voice he only hears in his dreams nowadays say.
"Ellie, no! That's not me Starlight! I'm so sorry dude-"
When Damian turned his head towards the voice he's meet with an near identical face, granted there were some minor differences, but very, very familiar pair of striking blue eyes staring at him. Eyes that were somehow full of life, which shouldn't be possible because the last time he saw those eyes they had been dim and milked over years ago. The speaker had become startled at the his sudden turn and the words that he had been saying had quickly died out when he too took in Damian's features.
"D...Damian?..." the name came out so soft and small that Damian almost didn't hear it but he did.
And before Damian could stop himself, he spoke a name he hadn't dared utter in years.
"Danyal."
His twin looked like he had just seen a ghost, and Damian was sure he looked the same. And given the last time they had last saw each other it was no wonder they both looked like death warmed over them for a moment.
After all... Damian had failed to protect his brother, Danyal al Ghul all those years ago on a botched mission.
His bother who... wasn't dead.
His brother who was looking like he wanted to run but was keeping himself rooted in his spot.
His brother whose eyes were glancing downwards and seemed so nervous.
His brother who knew the little girl, Ellie, still hugging his legs.
His brother who had... responded and corrected her mix up when she had called Damian 'Daddy.'
And oh, she's looking up at him and making grabby hands wanting to be picked up and she has Danyal's eyes and his nose and-
Oh... Damian.... Damian's an uncle it seems.
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Eddie with every woman ever, including Ana who was super sweet and a perfect match on paper: I’m sorry but I can’t do the ready-made family thing😔I just don’t think we’ll work. This just doesn’t feel right.
Eddie with Buck: Here’s a key to my house🥰Oh and you’re my son’s legal guardian in my will btw🥰Also if I can’t talk to you because of this lawsuit, I’m gonna lose my shit because ILYSM and me and OUR son miss you🥺
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Much like Welcome to Nightvale, I feel like a lot of people have forgotten just how big and influential Yuri on Ice was. It fully broke into the mainstream. It was everywhere. Evgenia Medvedeva, the top female figure skater in 2016 and 2017, had YOI plushies thrown to her on the ice and wore a Victuuri tshirt to an interview. Japanese pair skaters Miu Suzaki and Ryuichi Kihara skated to the YOI theme at the fucking Pyeongchang 2018 Olympics. The Olympics. Canadian ice dancer Joseph Johnson did the ‘J.J. Style’ hand symbol in the kiss and cry. Johnny Weir made me cry by talking about how he wished the homophobic world of figure skating he experienced could have been more like the kinder world of Yuri on Ice.
There were cameos and references to it everywhere. Everyone was talking about it. People who had never watched anime were watching it. It was so big it crashed Crunchyroll and Tumblr. Twice. And all that for what was at its core, a queer love story that helped pave the way for more queer stories to come.
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"I respect you and won't stop you from being who you are" and "I'm not ready to call you by a new name and pronouns because it hurts me" can not co-exist when the speaker is your parent who has a huge amount of control over your life.
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Hello, I am Ahmed Halas from the besieged northern Gaza Strip. My family consists of 20 people, most of whom are young children. I ask for your support, donations and participation. I will be grateful to you. My campaign was documented by 90-ghoset.
https://www.tumblr.com/ahmeadhilles/757170128631775232/donate-to-helping-the-helles-family-achieve-a?source=share
help this family of 20 evacuate!
🇵🇸 🍉
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Grass is green, water is wet, and Jonathan Byers does not like Steve Harrington.
These are known facts in the universe.
Computers were going to take over the world, a “mobile” phone was being invented, and Steve Harrington had lost most of his hearing.
These were unknown facts--rumors even, if you will. Eddie had never seen even a grain of truth to support any of them.
(Well, maybe the computer thing, but only because Grant and Dustin both had made a couple of convincing arguments.)
So he doesn’t think about it, when his freshman gang up on him.
Doesn’t even factor the “can’t hear well” thing in, when he was tasked (demanded, whined, bitched and moaned at) with helping them explain to Steve why going to the release party of the new D&D box set, located at a hobby store only a mere 2 hour drive away, was important.
Eddie’s not even sure how the little shits got him to agree to do it until he’s standing in the parking lot in front of the former King himself.
“The store’s leading up to the release with a handful of one-shots.” He’s explaining, unsure whether to pull out the bored act or play up his court jester persona, and thus mixing and matching on the fly.
He does not care if Harrington doesn’t know what a one-shot is.
“They’re releasing the set at midnight. You have to be there to get it though, you can’t have someone else pick it up for you because they only got a certain amount in.”
Harrington’s frowning (no surprise) but it’s not until Eddie is well into his spiel about how his van is already full with the elder members of Hellfire, and thus has no room for the freshmen, that he realizes Steve isn’t quite looking at him.
Is in fact, looking over his shoulder.
Eddie stops. Follows Harrington’s gaze.
Parked across from Steve’s Beemer, is Jonathan Byer’s barely working clunker car.
A handful of steps in front of it, and thus nearly right behind Eddie, is the man himself.
His hands are still moving, mouth shaping words silent as he goes, his gaze locked not on Eddie or the kids--but on Steve.
Who turns back around as Harrington’s eyes slide right back to him.
“And this is taking place next Friday?” He says, in that sort of annoyed but resigned way parents aim at their children. “After school?”
“I’d like to go during school, but the freshmen insist you wouldn’t let them ditch out.” Eddie tells him. “They had two separate arguments about it.”
Loud ones, that had interrupted the game and given Eddie a migraine.
Once again Steve’s eyes slide away from him, to Jonathan.
“They’re not skipping school.” He says suddenly, a glare forming and Jonathan makes an annoyed noise.
“They argued about skipping, they’re not going to.” He says aloud, and finally steps up so that he’s next to Eddie instead of behind him.
“Munson slow down, I can’t sign as fast as you’re talking.” He adds, in the hang-dog grumble he’s notorious for.
Eddie stares at him.
“Can he seriously not hear me?”
“No.” Steve and Jonathan answer together.
“I can kind of still hear,” Steve adds, gaze returning to Eddie’s face. “But its more loud music or noises. I can lip read, but you’re also talking too fast for that.”
Without pausing, he turns back to Jonathan and says; “Why can’t you take them?”
“It’s Friday.” Byers deadpans.
Eddie’s not an expert on sign language, but his hands somehow looked deadpan too.
He’s not sure how Jonathan did that.
“So?” Steve snarks back.
What follows is an argument that Eddie is not, at all involved in, mostly because he’s too busy handling the fact that Jonathan Byers has learned sign language, for Steve Harrington, apparently, and given the tone the argument is taking they still don’t even like each other.
Eventually the argument ends, Steve throwing his hands in the air and demanding that Jonathan owes him.
(Eventually Eddie will corner the ever so quiet Will Byers and ask why the hell his brother learned sign language for someone he clearly fucking hates.
“Oh they don’t hate each other.” Baby Byers would say, in that shy, quiet way of his. “I think they’re actually friends now?”
“You think?”
“Well--you’ve seen them.” Will shrugs. “I think being mean to each other is kinda their thing.”
‘What the hell.’ Eddie would think, right up until he stumbled across one of the kids sign language books.
Byers the Elder, he decides, isn’t the only person who should learn sign language to chew out Harrington properly.
The pay off is immediate.
Or at least, the pay off of watching Steve’s shocked face the first time Eddie signs something vulgar at him is, anyway.)
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Places her in the palms of your hands...
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this just in: danny fenton is just as much of a mask as Brucie Wayne? - another danyal al ghul au
Turns out, being placed in a civilian family who have no knowledge of your background is actually detrimental to the health and development of a child assassin due to lack of proper support! Surrounded by strangers in a foreign city, Danyal Al Ghul does as assassins do best. He hides. Espionage is one of many teachings one learns in the League, and it only takes half a day for Danyal to construct a new persona to hide behind: Daniel Fenton.
By the time dinner rolls around, Danyal al Ghul is safely and securely tucked behind the face of Danny Fenton; brand new adoptive child of the Fenton family who came from overseas. A shy, quiet little boy with a thick accent and curly hair, with brown skin and blue eyes, and an avid interest in the stars. The best fictions are always cobbled together in a little bit of truth, it's some of the only truth he ever lets through. He apologizes in a meek voice for his behavior early, he didn't mean to be rude, and he watches the three of them eat it up with coos.
Lies roll like silk against his lips, he struggles to meet their eyes and offers them his weakest, shyest smile. It's too easy. It's easy to go from there.
Danny Fenton, adoptive son, shy and awkward and unconfident but friendly. Who struggles in his classes and isn't the brightest, but tries his hardest. He makes bad jokes and has a quick tongue and a sarcastic mouth. He wants to be an astronaut. He's got the best aim in school, and is a terrifying dodgeball player. He's one of the least athletic kids in his grade.
It's like playing two truths and a lie, but there's only one truth, and the rest are lies. It's easy to pretend when he knows it's insincere.
Danyal Al Ghul, grandson to the Demon Head. Deadly, trained assassin. Has spilled blood, has had blood spilt from. Environmentalist, animal activist. He loves the stars. He owns a calligraphy set. A sharp tongue, an even sharper blade. He's clever, quick-witted, he would be top of his grade if he tried harder. He purposely doesn't.
He misses his family. He misses his mother, and he misses his brother. Mother visits a few times a year, so few times that he can count it on both hands. He cherishes every visit, as brief as they are. It helps remind him who he is.
Sam and Tucker are Danny's best friends. They've never met Danyal, but Danyal's met them.
It becomes routine to become Danny Fenton. As familiar and as easy as pulling on a shirt in the morning. Danyal wakes up and is always first to the bathroom in the mornings; stares at himself in the mirror until he can finally see Danny staring back at him. At night, he locks his door and sheds the mask.
Dying throws a wrench in his mask; splits a crack straight through the porcelain. He's able to smooth it over with sandpaper and liquid gold, but it's a little hard keeping his ghost form under wraps. It instinctively wants to shift to show his true self. Danyal can't have that, he's spent four years as Danny Fenton, he'll spend another four as him as well. Even if the feeling of the hazmat suit in his ghost form feels restrictive, like a too-small shirt suctioned to his skin that needs to be peeled off.
He'll live. Er-- well, you know what he means. It's frustrating however, trying to keep his Danny Fenton mask up even as Phantom - fighting in the air is something he needs to get used to, and the sudden propping of powers throws him off. But he is nothing if not adaptive, and he hates that he needs to slow his own skills down in order to keep pretenses up in front of Sam and Tucker.
The first time Danyal summons a sword when he's alone, is one of the few times Danyal gets to grin instead of Danny. He's fighting Skulker, and from an invisible hilt he draws a katana from thin air. It startles them both. Skulker takes a step back at the smile that spreads across his face.
They're both silent as Danyal examines his new sword.
"Do you know what people like me do to people like you, poacher?" Danyal finally asks him, the accent he began to hide a few months in slipping through. He drops all pretense, dragging the flat end of the blade slow and appreciatively against his palm. It's a good make, and when he cuts it through the air, it slices through like butter. He looks up at Skulker with a smile; "are you ready to find out?"
When Sam and Tucker ask about why Skulker seems so skittish around Danny now, Danny shrugs at them and says with a playful smile; "I don't know, I guess I kicked his butt too hard after our last fight." and he watches as Sam rolls her eyes exasperatedly, and Tucker snickers with his own joke.
By the time he reunites with Damian before their 15th birthday, Danyal is buried beneath so many layers of Danny Fenton that his brother will need a shovel to dig him out. He's not sure what he'll find.
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mabel haters you are not invited to my wedding btw
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