Turning off the reblogs on this. At the time I wrote it, it felt like what I needed to say. There's not as much activity on the post now, but when there is, I feel...sort of hollow. We're so far past the point where this even means anything.
Y'all remember "cops aren't supposed to kill guilty people, either", right?
Palestinians who have done something wrong don't deserve to die beneath the rubble of their homes.
Palestinians who have done something wrong don't deserve to be shot with expanding bullets that cause massive tissue damage leading to amputation.
Palestinians who have done something wrong don't deserve to have their flesh burned away with white phosphorous.
Palestinians who have done something wrong don't deserve their fishing boats blown up.
Palestinians who have done something wrong don't deserve to see their husbands and fathers executed in front of them along evacuation routes.
Palestinians who have done something wrong don't deserve an anonymous phone call threatening to destroy their lives and families.
Palestinians who have done something wrong don't deserve to be detained for years without charges.
Palestinians who have done something wrong don't deserve to be tortured, starved, and sexually assaulted in prison.
Palestinians who have done something wrong don't deserve to be deprived of water.
Palestinians who have done something wrong don't deserve their olive trees to be uprooted while they look on.
Palestinians who have done something wrong don't deserve sixteen years of blockade.
Palestinians who have done something wrong don't deserve to be prevented from traveling for lifesaving medical care.
Palestinians who have done something wrong don't deserve this genocide.
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you're in the habit of denying yourself things.
if someone asked you directly, you would say that you love a little treat. you like iced coffee and getting the cookie. you drink juice out of a fancy cup sometimes, and often do use your candles until they gutter out helplessly.
but you hesitate about buying the 20 dollar hand mixer because, like. you could just use your arms. you weren't raised rich. you don't get to just spend the 20 dollars (remember when that could cover lunch?), at least - you don't spend that without agonizing over it first, trying to figure out the cost-benefits like you are defending yourself in front of a jury. yes, this rice cooker could seriously help you. but you do know how to make stovetop rice and it really isn't that hard. how many pies or brownies would you actually make, in order to make that hand mixer worthwhile?
what's wild is that if the money was for a friend, it would already be spent. you'd fork over 40 without blinking an eye, just to make them happy. the difference is that it's for you, so you need to justify it.
and it sneaks in. you ration yourself without meaning to - you don't finish the pint of ice cream, even though you want to. the next time you go to the store, you say ah, i really shouldn't, and then you walk away. you save little bits of your precious things - just in case. sometimes you even go so far as putting that one thing in your shopping cart. and then just leaving it there, because maybe-one-day, but not right now, there's other stuff going on.
you do self-care, of course. but you don't do it more than like, 3 days in a row. after that it just feels a little bit over-the-edge. like. you can't live in decadence, the economy is so bad right now, kid.
so you don't buy the rice cooker. you can-and-will spend the time over the stove. you can withstand the little sorrows. denial and discipline are practically synonyms. and you're not spoiled.
it's just - it's not always a rice cooker. sometimes it is a person or a job or a hug. sometimes it is asking for help. sometimes it is the summer and your college degree. sometimes it is looking down at scabbed knees and feeling a strange kind of falling, like you can't even recognize the girl you used to be. sometimes it is your handprint looking unsteady.
sometimes it is tuesday, and you didn't get fired, and you want to celebrate. but what is it you like, even? you search around your little heart and come up empty. you're so used to denying that all your desires draw a blank.
oh fuck. see, this is the perfect opportunity. if you had a mixer, you'd make a cake.
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large zionist blocklist below
i've compiled a list of all the blogs positively interacting with the @/israel-palestine-bingo blog
there's more info about how the names were complied under the read more, but just to get an idea of how vile the blog is, i just want to quickly mention that the first prize offered in their pinned post, "eight hours of memi mamtera," is the song used in the viral israeli tiktok trend of kidnapping, humiliating, and torturing palestinians in the west bank.
and the "grand prize," which needs no explanation, is "all of palestine! for free!"
some quick info: all the names here have either approvingly replied to, reblogged from, or liked one or more of @/israel-palestine-bingo's posts. for likes, i've only gathered names that appear under their original posts; mostly ones that have not been reblogged, and some with 2-3 reblogs that have not left the immediate sphere of zionists. i've also made sure that these are blogs who have either liked more than one posts from them, or who frequently reblogs from other zionists.
you can also quickly look through the blog yourself (it doesn't have that many posts), or check out any of the names on the list with a quick 'israel' or 'palestine' in the search bar or their blogs.
there are more screenshots at the end of the posts, including ones showing who made the blog (ani-lo-daredevil / katenotbishop), and the bingo board itself (ashenpumpkin).
blocking tip: fastest way to mass block users (on desktop) is to go to settings -> the blog your blocking them from -> scroll all the way down to 'blocked tumblrs,' and then copy-paste the name your blocking
names listed below in alphabetical order
reminder again, block don't engage
2peachy
acleverforgery
ani-lo-daredevil
apollo-enthusiast
ashenpumpkin <- credited for making the bingo board, reblogged/liked almost all of their posts.
aureatecorvid
avi-on-jumblr (main @/clear-what-i-was-seeing)
awstheticshit
bambahalva
bleepiesheepie
bluenorther
blueredfetch
bones-and-crows
britneysmeanshirt
cannibalism-is-my-love-language
captain-navii
casavanse
celepito
chubbybubba
ciitrus--fruitz
coffeelovinggayidiot
da-socks
davos-is-the-one-true-king
dchan87
disregardenedgnostic
elder-millennial-of-zion
faggotry-enjoyer
fdelopera
flowercrownsandfairylights
fluffel677
fluffy-art-moss
george-lucas-is-god
got-chavi
icereader12
illegitimatetenenbaum
inklingm8
its-hila
jewishlivesmatter
just-illegal
karinhasdacookie
katenotbishop <- the main account of the person running the blog. her sideblog is @/ani-lo-daredevil
kelluinox
kingofslush
letaot-ze-magniv
lingonberryjamistakenwhat
lovelyhairedpianist
magic-coffee
marrymepadfoot
marvel-ous-posts
masters-puddle <- pornblog
mixmangosmangoverse
morganas-simp
mossadspydolphin
multifandermissesanakin
nameless370
namiko026
nevleg32
notcrazyiswear
oakstar519
perfectlynormalperson
psychologeek
queerius
randomname3
redvodyanoi
rhysaka
sally006
sbinklebooper
scp-1296
shinekocreator <- commented, 'but is this the 8 hour version?' on a post where someone ''won'' the song used in the tiktok torture videos.
snakelung
sort-of-a-demon
soxiyy
stuffandatherstuff
tearsandice
tedious-waffle
thebejeweledwatercat
the-library-alcove
thirdmagic
thisgingerhasnosoul
timegirl
tolaat-bli-toelet <- the person running the bingo blog. mainblog is @/katenotbishop
transmascpetewentz
tribulation-of-somnolence
unexistencerpg
viktorrotkiv
wanderingmadscientist
whiterose-blackrose
whitesunlars
why5x5
note: @/tolaat-bli-toelet changed her username to @/ani-lo-daredevil (her main is still @/katenotbishop)
and from the same post,
the last post was also reblogged by the creator of the israel-palestine-bingo blog
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Damian Wayne was like a duckling. A violent, stab-happy, danger-prone duckling, yes, but a duckling all the same. Which means when Danny almost got stabbed by a sleepy, instinct driven Damian, he was able to wave it off with a laugh. Damian, on the other hand, stared in horror at the butter knife firmly lodged in Danny’s arm.
“PENNYWORTH!” Danny jerked back at Damian’s scream. “RICHARD! FATHER!”
God damn, the kid had a pair of lungs on him. Danny’s wince was interpreted as pain to Damian, who gently grabbed his injured arm and started to pull him towards the kitchen’s marble island.
Danny blinked, non plussed as his hearing picked up a thundering of feet as the present family members scrambled towards Damian’s distress call.
“Wait, Damian, I’m fine. It’s-”
“You have been impaled, you imbecile! Had it been any of the other simpletons, they would have-!”
“Ouch.” Danny put his other hand in mock hurt over his slow-beating heart. He literally doesn’t care about the butter knife. He’s just impressed there was enough force in there to impale him. “Are you calling me names now? After- gasp- stabbing me?”
Before Damian could reply, the beginnings of regret, remorse, and guilt on his face, Alfred, Dick, and Bruce burst into the kitchen.
“What happened?!”
“My word, master Danny!”
“What is it?!”
“I’m fine. It’s like a small stab. Not even a big stab. I’m good.”
Dick paled, seeing Danny’s arm clutched in Damian’s hand.
“That’s- that’s a knife. In your arm. How is that ‘fine’?!”
“What happened.” Bruce asked Damian, gently removing Danny’s arm from Damian’s death clutch.
“I- I did not mean to,” Damian starts, guilt coloring his voice.
“He didn’t,” Danny cuts in. “I startled him and got stabbed for being dumb. I won’t fault him for having a defense mechanism like that, ancient knows what I might do if you guys startled me.”
The awkward silence that settled at his words made Danny twitch awkwardly.
“Uh, so, can I add this knife to my collection? Even if I didn’t get mugged?”
“Danny.”
“Bruce.” Danny stared stubbornly back. With his uninsured hand, he patted Damian on the head. He was going to enjoy the fluffiness before Damian’s guilt was no longer enough to hold him back from snapping at Danny’s hand like a grumpy alligator. Bruce loses, obviously. He’s a teenager who was also an ex-vigilante. Batman’s got nothing on a determined halfa.
“Master Danny, I must insist you refrain from getting stabbed. There is only so much gauze and antiseptic cream in the house.” Alfred returned- huh, when did he leave?- with a med kit.
Danny called bullshit because he knows there’s a whole ass medical bay beneath the manor.
“Sorry.”
“No need to apologize.” Alfred said, promptly beginning the extraction of the butter knife.
“Are you okay?” Dick asked, hovering worriedly. “He- are you…?”
Damian was allowing Danny to ruffle his hair, so…
“Yep, I’m good. This isn’t even on my top thirty most painful stabbings,” and it really wasn’t. That honor was given to the GIW and that one time Jazz accidentally stabbed him with her earrings. “That was pretty impressive, actually. It’s like, a butter knife. The other ones had pointy ends.”
“Do not clump me with those pathetic wastes of spaces. I am naturally superior and would… would never harm you on purpose.” Damian said, getting quiet at the end like he was trying to plead to Danny to believe him.
“Of course not. But- if you want help me keep the knife, you can hit me with a mug, it would technically be a mugging.”
The pun got the desired effect. Damian leaned away with a disgruntled look and Dick stopped hovering as close in order to let out a small cackle.
“Done.”
“You should go get changed, kiddo. We’re going to see Tim’s photography at the Gotham Gallery today.”
“Oh, for real?” Danny patted Damian’s fluffy hair one last time, pushing away from the counter. “Oh, I’ll clean up here first and-”
“That will not be necessary,” Alfred scolded, a mop somehow already in his hands. “Please see to it you are prepared for the day.”
“Thanks, Alfred. Can I keep the knife.”
“Very well.”
“Sweet. See you guys later?” Danny pranced off after seeing the nods.
——
“He’s… he got stabbed a lot. Before us, I mean.” Dick tapped a furious rhythm onto the counter. “Not that we’ve stabbed him until now but even once is concerning for a civilian.”
“He was used to it.” Bruce replied.
“Perhaps we should join Todd in his endeavor and ensure that his worthless tormentors are permanently out of the picture.”
“God, he said top thirty. He was counting.”
Damian silently withdrew a kitchen knife.
“No murder with my quality chef’s knives, Master Damian.”
“Tt.”
“Master Jason follows the same rules. Now, out of the kitchen. I may be old, but I remember the last time master Bruce and master Dick stepped foot in here and I will not have a repeat.”
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