frankly, the people whose kneejerk reaction to bisan asking for a global strike form the 21st-28th is to say that it takes years to organize a general strike are really unhelpful! no one is saying otherwise, but palestine will be a smoking crater if we all wait for years to do anything - bisan is asking us to do something now. Like are we only supposed to do something if we can do it perfectly??? At some point it’s a valid critique about the work that goes into social movement, and at another point I feel like some people are just trying to absolve themselves from not putting any effort into observing a week of economic inaction.
like idk! I get it, okay! People have bills to pay that don’t magically go away for a strike, we don’t have nearly enough social infrastructure in place to support people to fully stop going to work for a week. But fuck, dude! Stop immediately responding in such a defeatist way! Cut out unnecessary purchases! Try to shop local! Put more effort into promoting Palestinian voices online! Attend a protest, call a local rep, do something!
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I love how we can pretty much call this Logan “Wade’s Logan”
That’s HIS man. No one else’s. That’s his little honey badger. That’s his big boy. That’s his peanut. That’s his Wolverine.
He actually adopted this guy into his family and now he’s gonna be his for the rest of their never-ending lives.
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I think Alfred needs his own prompt 👻(dp x dc)
Alfred had died.
(It was a bit of a waste of time— he'd been scheduled to get the boys to and from their suit fitting at this time. Now here he was; languishing. Murdered. Sulking, even.)
(How frivolous.)
As a busy man with children (an adult child) to care for, a house to maintain, and a budget to supervise, Alfred's main goal was to return to Earth, obviously. If he left Master Bruce in charge of the dusting, the man would absolutely let the unused parts of the house go into disrepair. Too impatient, his ex-ward was.
The only problem was that in this green, nebulous, and gravity-free afterlife, there seemed to be only one way out— navigating through the individual worlds that the denizens of this world have molded around themselves, until he finds a being willing to grant his wish to return.
Alfred sighed, checked for the pistol at his hip and the rifle on his back, and marched straight upwards. Or. Well. Downwards. Actually... Never mind.
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