#admiral writes

[onedamnminuteadmiral]

@practicefortheheart I are collabing! For this piece, I wrote a 500-word fic, and Nina drew a beautiful piece inspired by it! Next, Nina will draw and I will write inspired by their art!

See their INCREDIBLE art here:

And read the fic below!

------

Homesick

The flower sparkles with dew, its thousands of concentric yellow petals mesmerizing, calling Jim to kneel beside it. It reminds him of Earth's sun, Iowa summers, though he is further from his childhood home than he has ever been. Further than any man has ever been, in fact.

"Captain," Spock says, casting a shadow over the flower before Jim even lifts his eyes. "It would be unwise to fall too far behind the landing party."

The voices of Jim’s crewmates echo off the trees and into the depths of this strange and alien forest, as their bright uniforms disappear behind the foliage. They have a mission on this planet. They always do.

"Join me," Jim says. He scoots to the side, and motions to the spot where his knees have left wet indents in the loam and soil. 

Spock hesitates. But he’s used to Jim's whims by now, maybe even fond of indulging them. He tucks his tricorder to his chest and kneels, letting the dappled sunlight through the canopy once again shine over the flower. It's the only one like it in this clutch of grass, in the whole forest as far as Jim can tell.

Jim wonders if it's lonely. 

"I wanted to pick it," Jim murmurs, as Spock reaches forward to touch a light fingertip to an even lighter petal. "But I don't see any others. Can you imagine if my sentimentality eradicated an entire species of flora?" He chuckles to himself, smiles.

"You are feeling sentimental?" Spock asks. He withdraws his touch, a glimmer of dew clinging to his finger. 

"Always," Jim admits. “I’ve been homesick.” He tilts his head to look at Spock, how beautiful and calm he is, how close.

Spock nods, understanding as he understands everything about Jim, that Jim wouldn't trade his life of exploration for anything.

“It is an aesthetically pleasing specimen,” Spock says, which isn't what he actually means. He means ‘I hear you. I see you. I am here with you.’ 

A curious call echoes through the trees, no doubt the landing party realizing their superior officers have strayed. And Jim closes his eyes, sighs. Reluctantly, he puts his hands on his knees and shoves himself to his feet.

“They're ringing the dinner bell, Mister Spock,” he says. But Spock is stuck in place beside the little flower. Before Jim can even think to stop him, Spock reaches forward and plucks the bloom at its stem with a tiny snap. 

“Spock!” Jim practically gasps. Spock stands, unfazed.

“I have observed many of these plants budding throughout the forest. This one is not the last of its kind, merely the first to bloom.” Almost childlike, he holds the flower out to Jim. “You will enjoy it.”

Jim stares at the flower for all of a moment before the blush rises on his cheeks. He reaches out. Their fingers brush. He doesn't let go of the flower, and neither does Spock, and their eyes lock and Jim’s heart flutters, and suddenly --

Suddenly, Jim isn't homesick at all.

[onedamnminuteadmiral]

Two of my fics have been nominated for this honor, and it is so cool to see the other INCREDIBLE creators and fanworks on this list!!! Please read and view all of the entries and vote starting Sept. 10!

And THANK YOU for the nominations!!! It is such a pleasure to be creating with this fandom again 💛💙

Philon Awards 2024 Shortlist

(in alphabetical order of the title; shortlist based on the results of the nominations phase)

Short fic (word count under 10K):

And Filled With Tomorrows by Android_And_Ale

A Perfect Fit by ThereBeWhalesHere

Cherubim by vanilla_extract

Engineering a Fantasy by CampySpaceSlime

Fly Over My Grave Again by gunstreet

Harrekh t'Harrekhi by CampySpaceSlime

How to Win Plants and Influence Lizards by indeedcaptain

Seeing, Unseeing by Jenna Hilary Sinclair (JennaHilary)

The Mess Hall Incident (or why Bones really wants to eat his salad alone, thank you) by discorporating

The Sight of a Touch, or the Scent of a Sound by Moreta1848

Long fic (word count 10K-50K):

All Things Fall and Are Built Again by spaceisgay (ChancellorGriffin)

DESK JOBS by WerewolvesAreReal

How Do I Know He's Mine by HDDrabble

Hurt by ThereBeWhalesHere

Please Don't Take Him Just Because You Can by spaceisgay (ChancellorGriffin)

Space age country girl, stone cold miracle by thembonesthembones

the fine print, and other things james t. kirk doesn't read by onlyafterhours

the yeomen of the garden (and laundry) by cicak

Way from Within by gunstreet

Novella/novel (word count over 50K):

Bodyguard by BurningAmber

Grief as a four-dimensional figure by Moreta1848

I Shall Do Neither by onwhatcaptain

It's Not An Illusion by Borealisblue

mol-kur by uhuraprime

Quell the Cosmic Tides by Plus3Charisma

Regulatory Relations by indeedcaptain

The Exiles by Moreta1848

The rebel and the nerd by Moreta1848

The recitation of names by Moreta1848

Podfic:

Blood Fever (written by T'Lara) by 1lostone

I must confess (written by USS_Queertastic) by 1lostone

milk and honey (written by spaceisgay) by foundbyjohndoe

milk and honey (written by spaceisgay) by cookiemom6067

The 1,000 Hour Sleep (written by spqr) by cookiemom6067

Traditional art:

Alright mr Spock by knezidon

kiss by vanilla-phantoms

Parading with Pride by Purple_Enma

Spock's Tattoo by SButler (Shelley Butler)

Tender Hands by Purple_Enma (Tumblr post)

The Ritual by Purple_Enma (Tumblr post)

Digital art:

(untitled Spock nude) by spirk-my-love (Florian Gray)

By the Fireplace by lorvee

Captains' Gambit (comic) by lorvee (Tumblr post)

Commission for BurningAmber's fic "Bodyguard" by asyncamestel

Harrekh t'Harrekhi by Purple_Enma (Tumblr post)

Mess by eldar_of_zemlya

Morning Sex by nightcrawler1

TALKING TO GHOSTS by emilinqa

Vulcan's Forge by CelestialVoyeur (Tumblr post)

Poetry:

all of me, unguarded by indeedcaptain

blanket me by USS_Queertastic (BoldlyQueertastic)

Shared Space by CelestialVoyeur (poem is chapter 6 in a collection of poems)

The Curious Case of Captain Kirk by CelestialVoyeur (poem is chapter 5 in a collection of poems)

to have and to hold by CateAdams

Zines:

KiScon 2023 Official Zine (editor: 1lostone) (download link)

Wild Heart – A NSFW AOS Spirk zine (editors: borbtrek, remylebae, nicbutnasty) (download link)

You can also see the shortlist on this Google spreadsheet. Make a copy to have your own spreadsheet to keep track of what you've already read and how you liked it.

Voting will open on 10 September 2024! Stay tuned for the announcement. You can also find this shortlist plus the rules and explanations concerning the voting process on the KiScon website.

[aerequets]

more on this fic because QuirkCire commented "Theo fanboying over Yor and Twilight mistaking it for interest in her because he also kinda fanboys over Yor too was hilarious" and. LMAO UR SO RIGHT

[wrioluvr]

flirty playboy x mature male reader

this stupid ass meme had been on my mind forever and i realised how funny it would be to have a slutty playboy who just sleeps with anyone to seriously pine over a more mature, secure guy who doesn't fall for any of his shallow charms and tricks.... here are just some blurbs of their dynamic (˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵)

his name is roman. he's a little toxic, but he just wants to be loved.

cw: some smut, top male reader

it all started with a little night out. you didn't do those often, due to devoting most of your time towards work and earning a stable career, but finishing this particularly gruelling assignment called for a celebration. at the bar, dancing with your friends, a good-looking man with a playful glint in his eyes approached you full of bravado. he told you how handsome you were, and had been eyeing you from across the room for a while now. but from a single glance, you could tell he was the type to break hearts. beach-blonde dyed hair, a tight fitting tank top revealing his muscular build, an eyebrow piercing, the way his mouth curled up so subtly into a little smirk.... he was everything you knew to avoid getting serious with. but a little hookup couldn't hurt, right? you deserved a little fun.

and it didn't hurt you at all. a few failed relationships had made you wise beyond your years, knowing to easily seperate the good guys from the bad. you knew your self-worth. roman, on the other hand, was absolutely smitten. no other man had fucked him THIS good, gave him such gentle aftercare, and even let him stay as long as he needed. the way you so effortlessly lifted his legs up to thrust in and out of him at a rhythmic pace, or fondling his tits and squeezing his nipples softly while you hit it from the back, or tenderly running your fingers down his spine, arching it sensually.... he loved it all. it was clear to him that you prioritised his pleasure as much as your own, and it showed in how he orgasmed several times before you even came in him once, panting breathlessly while wearing the sluttiest expression of his life. it was nothing like any of the men he had sex with before. afterwards, you let him stay the night in a guest room, and even brewed a cup of coffee for him in the morning.

roman was damn near tears when you offered to drop him off at his house before you headed off to work. if he was being honest with himself, his insecurities were the root of his constant need for sexual intimacy, so being treated with genuine kindness for once was new to him.

"is dropping you off here alright?" you ask, turning into the road of his apartment complex.

"y-yeah...." he looks out the window, unsure how to look you in the eyes.

"okay. thanks for last night. stay safe." your words carried an air of finality to them, like you were so sure the two of you would never cross paths again. he didn't like that.

"uh, uh......" he stuttered, all his usual flirtatiousness thrown out the window as he couldn't meet your gaze. "could i... get your number?"

your friendly smile froze on your face. "uhhhh.... sorry, i'm not really looking for anything serious right now."

he quickly regained his composure, charm turned up to the max. shifting his tank top so more of his chest was exposed and you could notice his nipples protruding, roman whispered in a low tone, "that's okay! we can just be casual... and fuck anytime you like." a wink. a hand on your thigh.

"jeez... okay, no offense, but i've heard rumours from my friends that you're a bit of a... playboy. i'm not interested in being your toy, sorry."

roman's face flushed in embarrassment, knowing what you said was true. except the part on him seeing you as a toy. that was untrue. he could feel a warmth growing from the pit of his stomach at the thought of spending more time with you. were these... butterflies?

maybe begging would work.

"okay fine, i am a bit of a player... but please, please, pleaseeeeeee.... let's be in contact, okay? as friends?" roman sniffled pathetically, shaking your shoulder in desperation. he needed to be in your presence. why weren't his usual maneating tactics working?!?!

"alright. here you go. just don't spam me or anything, okay? i gotta go for work. see you." you sigh, a little exasperated but choosing not to let it show. he immediately lit up, typing your number in his contacts and saving many hearts next to your name. you prayed your acts of basic human decency wouldn't cause him to catch feelings. you needed to focus on your job right now.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

3:02pm

[romanbabyxx]

hiiiiiii

[romanbabyxx]

i know you said not to spam you but like

[romanbabyxx]

i miss u

[romanbabyxx]

can we meet up at the bar for drinks or something like that? please?

3:10pm

you check the messages on your phone, rolling your eyes and ignoring them. he was probably sending this text to at least three other guys right now. he had a history of cheating, based on what you heard from your friends. you weren't going to be another one of his victims.

5:35pm

[romanbabyxx]

are u ignoring me?

[romanbabyxx]

im sorryyyyyyyy

[romanbabyxx]

pls hit me back when ur free

7.30 pm

[name]

sorry, just got off work. will be super busy this week, so not free. mb.

[romanbabyxx]

oh, its okay! next week then?

[name]

i'll see

this went on for a few weeks, you constantly evading his invitations, being polite and professional, never too intimate over text. roman was starting to get fed up. he's so used to getting everything he wants, he doesn't know what to do when he actually has to work for the one he desires. he actually hadn't hooked up with anyone since your one night stand, but you didn't believe that.

roman was at his wits' end. he could only think of one final plan to get your attention.

trying to make you jealous.

over the next week, he hooked up with any and everyone he met in the bar, not bothering to keep his slutting around discreet. he wanted you to hear the rumours. he wanted you to feel a sense of unease within your very being. he wanted you to feel possessive. he wanted you, to want him. the whole time, even as he was getting fucked, he could only imagine you caressing him, holding him close, loving him.

his deeds didn't go unnoticed. your friends told you about it, yet you didn't feel anything in the slightest. you were right, after all... he forgot about you within a week and moved on to whichever poor man he would leave high and dry next.

the next time you bumped into him at the bar, roman was his usual, party-loving self, excitedly slinging an arm around you, a drink in hand. his plan had to work, surely? you would be begging to have him back. but yet, when he offhandedly (yet so intentionally) mentioned how much dick he had been getting the past week, anticipating your change in expression, nothing happened. "oh. good for you." was all you said.

he sputtered, flustered by your calm demeanour. didn't you care? at all?! "but.... but.... aren't you jealous? that i've been hooking up with other guys?!"

you stare at him, a genuine quzzical expression plastered across your face. "why would i be? it's not like we're dating or anything. it was just a one time thing."

your words hit like a knife through his heart. he clutched his chest dramatically, a pout forming on his lips. "i'll be faithful! i promise!" his words came out more desperate than he intended. he felt so vulnerable, so naked, yet you were the face of serenity. your unimpressed eyes stared through his soul, as if you were scrutinising his very core. he knew you could heal him, make him feel loved, but he was starting to doubt there was any possibility you would feel the same.

"i'm sure that's what you said to the last guy you cheated on."

.

.

.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

i intended for this to be lighthearted but why was it actually kinda depressing tbh

[dcxdpdabbles]

Red Yummy

Based on the post by @spacedace. Basically it's a joke that Red Robin (the restaurant with the little jingle: Reeed Robin: Yummm.) Isn't a thing in the DC world but is one in the Phantom world.

The rip in the multiverse was an issue the Justice League was not at all prepared for. Sure they had incidents where visitors from an alternate universe have crossed over to their side or they have gone to one. There are times when they meet doubles of themselves, both as allies and as enemies.

They have been to different Earths, with different histories, different countries, and that one particular time, even different beings that ruled the planet.

It's always been an adventure where at the end of it, the doorway to both worlds is sealed shut, with little or no chance of it opening again. The friends they made. The sights they saw. All gone. Fine. Over.

That was, until a villain from a different world, attempted to attack Clockwork's Tower. The Justice League was not aware of Clockwork- Master of Time, Weaver of Realms, The Concept of Between- but they noticed that he had been attacked when other worlds started spilling into theirs.

People were falling through glowing green portals, stumbling into buildings that weren't there before. People who were just going out for walks would be zapped away and replaced with their confused counterparts.

Parts of the sky glitch into others, replacing the soft blue with brown or black, little patches scattering around the world. Cities vanish for a few hours, sometimes replaced by others sometimes not, and animals never before seen running amok.

It was a mess.

The League did everything it could to help, but it was hard to stretch their reach to the help then world when all reality was being thrown into a mixer and set on chaos.

A lot like busted pipes, the Leaugers would run to cover a leaking pipe only to have the water build up in another and burst there and then scramble to cover that one before the rising water drowned them all.

Thankfully the Justice League Dark was able to use magic and find the source of the leak. The Infinite Realms known as the web that linked all universes, are usually only accessible by the dead, or in Constantine's case having friends in high places.

"Ghost Writer owes me a favor," Constantine said while the rest of the Leauge watched a flouting green book descend from the sky. It flipped open, expanding into a gateway. The smoke of the book curled into little missy hearts.

"Ghost Writer?" Zatanna gawked "How did you get such a powerful, and notoriously recluse, being to owe you anything?"

"Let's just say, we both appreciate the finer things in life and that ghost has a rather fine ass" Constantine leered. No one had asked for any more detail, although Zatanna had the expression of someone who had bitten something sour the whole time.

Ghost Writer had given Constantine a warning that his power would only be able to protect five living souls. Any more would be at the mercy of the Infinite Realms'.

Humans that wandered into the Realms were more often than not driven into madness, became hopelessly lost, or had their souls swindled by beings that dwelled there. Not that it wasn't surprising.

After all, the living did not belong there, so of course they were a danger to the Realms' structure. Hell, there were rumors that a living being could produce fresh uncorrupted ectoplasm when killed or even kept like livestock.

Constantine did not want to find out if the rumors had any truth to them.

To be able to travel safely they had to fall under a powerful ghost's protection and Ghost Writers let them know to pick their five best.

It was decided that Constantine would go as their expert, Batman as their strategist, Wonder Woman as their diplomat and protection, Superman as second protection, and Zatanna as another magic user that could combat the dead.

The rest of the league remained, doing their best to hold their universe together as the team of five rushed off to put everything to right. It was agonizing not knowing what was happening or how the mission was going but they did what they could and placed their trust in the five.

Many of the Justice League didn't say it, but it was the remaining Bats that sort of kept everything afloat in their father's absence. Each one leads a group of young heroes, easily countering and controlling their self-appointed sectors of the world.

Nightwing and Titians.

Red Robin and Young Justice.

Red Hood and the Outlaws.

Oracle and the Birds of Prey

Robin and the Blades.

All five groups agree to use the Watch Tower as a central base to coordinate their defenses against the world falling apart. Trading information with each other quickly and efficiently, and using this new information to prepare for more ripples of universes, showcasing that Batman had taught them well.

Following their example, the rest of the Justice League did what they could to minimize the damage. It was on the second day of constant relief efforts that everything was snapped back to normal.

A giant wave of sound- the noise sounding a lot like a grandfather clock strick repeating over and over again- as things that were not meant to be in their world vanished and their own people and things returned.

The shy's patches were removed and the right color returned.

Even property damages that were caused by the incident were reversed as if reality falling apart was nothing but a dream. No wreckages to clean up, no people had gone missing, and best of all, no casualties had been taken.

The Leauge gathered around Ghost Writer's book watching it open as the five returned, cheering and screaming, giving them the proper hero's welcome. Then right behind their teammates, a second group followed through.

Three glowing figures, all dressed in the same black and white outfits, and a ship carrying four humans. Batman introduced them as the allies who helped defend Clockwork's Tower and keep the multi-universe from collapsing.

He did admit that just because it was no longer falling apart, it did not mean that the rip had been closed. In fact, it was the only thing left to do but it was proving to be difficult due to Clockwork himself not understanding why their world wasn't healing.

Clockwork couldn't leave the Realms for too long- if no one was there to keep Time running the same thing would happen all over again- but he did give them equipment that could in theory patch things up on their side.

They just needed someone who understood the equipment.

Team Phantom, led by Danny Phantom, one of the flowing figures was happy to volunteer. They would be staying for three years, to strengthen and rebuild their Universe structure.

Team Phantom consisted of Dan Phantom, Danielle Phantom, Jasmin Fenton, Tucker Foley, Samantha Manson, and Westley Weston. All young, kind, strong- Batman vouched for the non-powered members claiming they could go toe to toe with his kids- and all much to the joy of many young heroes- attractive. They played an essential role on the team, doing whatever their people and kind did to help Clockwork, staying out of the League's way.

They all seemed happy to live as close to civilians as possible and despite their strength and combat training, Team Phantom was more like a research party instead of a hero.

Since they would be there for three years- more depending on the Speed Force's effect on the timeline grumbles Tucker- the seven had chosen to set down some roots within their dimension.

The three Phantoms needed Ectoplasim to live- a rare substance in the Justice League's universe- so they chose Gotham as their new home. Batman was more than willing to allow them into his city, as long as they knew not to interfere with his work.

Things settled, The Justice League moved on to other missions and other issues while Team Phantom ran tests, gathered information, and worked on the timeline.

The only real issue Bruce had with Team Phantom, was that a majority of his kids were romanticly interested in them.

Dick's love-struck sigh, whenever Dan wandered by, would often lead to useless backflips in an ill-fated attempt to impress him.

Jason would conventionally be lifting weights shirtless whenever Jazz came by with an update report. Then he would mention some novel or other that had the girl's attention far better than his abs.

Steph had taken a very large interest in gardening and at the same time, started wearing shorter shorts and tighter tops because Sam seemed to adore flowers.

Cass meanwhile found every excuse there was to be dressed in the prettiest dresses she owned whenever Wes was anywhere near her. She even wore light makeup- a real sign of how much she was interested in the conspiracy theorist.

Duke seemed over the moon whenever Tucker asked for his personal help on anything technical-related. It did his son wonders that someone thought of him first when it came to tech- Duke has always been a bit self-conscious of his place among geniuses- would be all but speaking in poems to the bemused teenager.

Damian's crush on Ellie did melt Bruce's heart a little. It was his baby's first after all, but he wasn't sure if Damian's approach was doing anything. Put him on the battlefield and Damian could lead to victory. Put him next to a pretty young girl and all his son was capable of doing was stare and babble.

The only one that didn't seem to have a crush on Team Phantom was Tim. Which should have given him reassurance except for the small little detail.

"Red Robin" Danny sings upon Tim's arrival at the cave. Officially tonight they are all going over the results of the latest tests on the universe's structure. Unofficially Team Phantom had been invited over for dinner by Alfred and they were looking over the Batcave as their butler finished preparing the main course.

At once every member of Team Phantom raises their head, turning away from his love-struck children to his flustered son and singing "Yum" with wide smiles.

Tim's face goes bright red.

Apparently, Tim was their universe version of Adonis and Team Phantom had no issue with expressing how yummy they found Tim. Now Bruce isn't saying that he would be against Tim having more than one romantic partner- he has made sure to look up proper healthy poly relationships and given Tim a PowerPoint version of it.

It's just that he isn't sure how he's going to handle supporting one of his children while breaking the heart of another. Tim seems unsure how to handle so much romantic attention- he's had plenty of relationships before- but said attention is picking him before any of his siblings is a first.

Bruce knows that deep down Tim still struggles with thinking he's not as good as the others. That he really is just a placeholder in the long run.

Then there is the fact he isn't sure how their culture works. Is the singing like a mating call? Was there a chance they would earn the irk of Clockwork himself if Tim accidentally accepted their advances? Why was it always Red Robin and not just Tim himself that made Team Phantom go yummmm?

"Hi guys" Tim greets at least and Danny grins wider.

"Reeeeed Robbbbbin" " The ghost boy says throwing an arm over Tim's shoulders. Sam and Tucker surround them, making their voices sound strange as all three start singing, rocking Tim back and forth in a strange little dance.

"Yummmmm!"

From the corner of his eyes, Bruce makes out Dick's protective Older Brother's face, as his eldest starts marching towards the group with the intent of breaking them apart. He's been very vocal about putting an end to Team Phantom's flirtations if he saw so much as a hint of Tim's unease.

Except that Tim looked utterly bliss being pressed up against Danny. Maybe he should rethink Tim's disinterest in Team Phantom. The rest of his children looked murderous as more members of Team Phantom gathered around Tim also singing.

Bruce had to deal with this for three whole years. He can physically feel his hair turning greyer.

[madootles]

jon sims losing his mind in seasons two and three <333

the magnus archives has me in a serious chokehold right now

[sualne]

your body isn't your own

[onedamnminuteadmiral]

I think I'm gonna be done with my podfic in time for K/S day! It will be nice to have something to share! It's been years since I've had the bandwidth to celebrate beyond watching Amok Time ahaha

[stoneshipper]

imagine your f/o...

... writing you a love letter! they'd put careful care and consideration into every aspect of it - from the stationary to the pen they use to write to you. maybe their handwriting is naturally neat, or perhaps they write with such quick passion that it's harder to decipher. in any case, their letter is filling with nothing but compassionate words that they hope to use to brighten your day and make your heart feel warm ���︎

dividers made for me by kynibyou! 🍂 prosh¡p dni.

[aerequets]

IM OBSESSED WITH THIS WIZARD CAT GUYS PLEASE OMG

[infiniteglitterfall]

I guess this might be why the UK seemed to go so antisemitic so quickly

I'm researching the 1947 pogroms in the UK. (Actually, I'm researching all the pogroms and massacres of Jews in the past 200 years. Which today led me to discover that there were pogroms in the UK in 1947.)

From an article on "The Postwar Revival of British Fascism," all emphasis mine:

Given the rising antisemitism and widespread ignorance about Zionism [in the UK in 1947], fascists were easily able to conflate Zionist paramilitary attacks with Judaism in their speeches, meaning British Jews came to be seen as complicit in violence in Palestine.

Bertrand Duke Pile, a key member of Hamm’s League, informed a cheering crowd that “the Jews have no right to Palestine and the Jews have no right to the power which they hold in this country of ours.” Denouncing Zionism as a way to introduce a wider domestic antisemitic stance was common to many speakers at fascist events and rallies. Fascists hid their ideology and ideological antisemitism behind the rhetorical facade of preaching against paramilitary violence in Palestine.

One of the league’s speakers called for retribution against “the Jews” for the death of British soldiers in Palestine. This was, he told his audience, hardly an antisemitic expression. “Is it antisemitism to denounce the murderers of your own flesh and blood in Palestine?” he asked his audience. Many audience members, fascist or not, may well have felt the speaker had a point. ...[The photo of two British sergeants hanged by the Irgun in retaliation for the Brits hanging three of their members] promptly made numerous appearances at fascist meetings, often attached to the speaker’s platform. In at least one meeting, several British soldiers on leave from serving in Palestine attended Hamm’s speech, giving further legitimacy to his remarks. And with soldiers and policemen in Palestine showing increasing signs of overt antisemitism as a result of their experiences, the director of public prosecutions warned that the fascists might receive a steady stream of new recruits.

MI5, the U.K. domestic security service, noted with some alarm that “as a general rule, the crowd is now sympathetic and even spontaneously enthusiastic.” Opposition, it was noted in the same Home Office Bulletin of 1947, “is only met when there is an organized group of Jews or Communists in the audience.”

The major opposition came from the 43 Group, formed by the British-Jewish ex-paratrooper Gerry Flamberg and his friends in September 1946 to fight the fascists using the only language they felt fascists understood — violence. The group disrupted fascist meetings for two purposes: to get them shut down by the police for disorder, and to discourage attendance in the future by doling out beatings with fists and blunt instruments. By the summer of 1947, the group had around 500 active members who took part in such activities. Among these was a young hairdresser by the name of Vidal Sassoon, who would often turn up armed with his hairdressing scissors.

The 43 Group had considerable success with these actions, but public anger was spreading faster than they could counter the hate that accompanied it. The deaths of Martin and Paice had touched a nerve with the populace. On Aug. 1, 1947, the beginning of the bank holiday weekend and two days after the deaths of the sergeants, anti-Jewish rioting began in Liverpool. The violence lasted for five days. Across the country, the scene was repeated: London, Manchester, Hull, Brighton and Glasgow all saw widespread violence. Isolated instances were also recorded in Plymouth, Birmingham, Cardiff, Swansea, Newcastle and Davenport. Elsewhere, antisemitic graffiti and threatening phone calls to Jewish places of worship stood in for physical violence. Jewish-owned shops had their windows smashed, Jewish homes were targeted, an attempt was made to burn down Liverpool Crown Street Synagogue while a wooden synagogue in Glasgow was set alight. In a handful of cases, individuals were personally intimidated or assaulted. A Jewish man was threatened with a pistol in Northampton and an empty mine was placed in a Jewish-owned tailor shop in Davenport.

And an important addendum:

I've read a whole bunch of articles about the pogroms in Liverpool, Manchester, Salford, Eccles, Glasgow, etc.

Not one of them has mentioned that the Irgun, though clearly a terrorist group, was formed in response to 18 years of openly antisemitic terrorism, including multiple incredibly violent massacres. Or that it consistently acted in response to the murders of Jewish civilians, not on the offensive. Or that at this point, militant Arab Nationalist groups with volunteers and arms from the Arab League countries had been attacking Jewish and mixed Arab-Jewish neighborhoods for months.

I just think the "Jewish militants had been attacking the British occupiers" angle is incredibly Anglocentric.

Yeah, they were attacking the British occupiers. But also, that's barely the tip of the iceberg.

Everyone involved hated the Brits at this point. If only al-Husseini and his ilk had hated the Brits more than they hated the Jews, Britain could at least have united them by giving them a common enemy.

[ghostlysoaps]

Inspiration - @ghcstao3

There's something to be said about the way John "Soap" MacTavish, notorious for his fleeting fancy of any given subject when off an op, hasn't been able to get Simon Riley out of his head. Granted, even before "The Incident" his lieutenant occupied his thoughts frequently. But now, oh, not a minute goes by where his attention doesn't stray, where his eyes aren't drawn to Ghost’s hulking figure, and he wishes they'd been stationed literally anywhere else but the monotone grey of autumnal England.

His sketchbook is filled with pages upon pages of studies. Greens and browns and gold – the myriad of colours hazel can be – despite how none of them feel right. Too saturated, too dark, too light. Too much or too little. Then again... it is near impossible to recreate a work of art after a mere fleeting second of studying the original. La Gioconda del Prado wasn't made with a peripheral glance at Da Vinci's subject – so how is Johnny to do the impossible?

-

"Spar with me."

Ghost pauses with his fork mid-way to his mouth. A mouth Johnny would gladly analyze at length, or map with his own one day, if not for the unhealthy obsession he's taken with Ghost's eyes.

One thing at a time.

His irises are shadowed by the tilt of his head and the presence of eyeblack but there is a subtle difference between them. Johnny is fool enough to think he can see it no matter how shit the lighting. Deluded, even, if his long-suffering best friend is to be believed. They're also dark with question, narrowed with thoughts and opinions kept close at heart.

"Alright," Ghost says and pushes the rest of his dinner away, pausing briefly as if to say something before ultimately deciding against it.

Johnny follows him with a pronounced bounce in his step and speeds through stretching and warming up. It'll be a killer tomorrow but that's a problem for future Johnny. Sore muscles are a small price to pay if it means settling a mystery.

They take their places, circling each other lazily. Johnny, ever the impatient one, lunges first and ends up with Ghost's heavy weight straddling the small of his back a couple minutes later. He grinds his teeth and heaves himself back to his feet. Sweat beads at his temples, his neck, trickling down his spine. Alight with purpose, he throws himself back in the fray.

He sways out of Ghost’s reach, blocking and evading, bouncing on the tips of his toes, throwing punches when it's fitting while he awaits the perfect time to strike. They're both grinning. It's plain as day on his own face, more subtle on Ghost's. The way the corners of his eyes crease gives him away, the shift of his plain balaclava as his lips twitch.

Johnny is focused on them like a bloodhound on a scent and when Ghost tosses his head, tilting it up with a roll of his shoulders, the florescent lights catching them just so.

Oh, is all he can think with the truth of him laid plain to see – how Johnny had been right all along. They differ subtly in darkness but when cast in either sunshine sepia or lightbulb white the contrast between them is stark. One is the deep, dark of pine, a forest green with too many hues to accurately count. It compliments the wooden brown of tree-trunk bark, flecks of whiskey-gold therein framed by pale lashes of nearly the same colour.

A modern day Medusa who stops him dead in his tracks, mesmerised, as Ghost's fist slams into the side of his face with the concentrated power of an eighteen-wheeler barreling into a concrete wall.

-

Ghost's face swims back into view an undetermined amount of time later. Worry etched into the tense way he carries himself. His hands are cupping Johnny’s cheeks, thumbs stroking once under his lower lids before they tilt his head back a fraction. He hovers close, peering into Johnny’s eyes as if they hold the secrets of the universe therein.

"Fuckin' hell Johnny. Anything broken?"

Johnny blinks at him, a dopey smile spreading over his lips like molasses.

Ghost, if anything, looks even more worried.

"Talk to me, Sergeant."

"You've beautiful eyes."

Ghost freezes in place. Gobsmacked, if Johnny were to put an expression to it. He murmurs a string of delightfully innovative curses under his breath, manoeuvring Johnny to sitting upright, and the change in vantage point only makes him a little bit dizzy. The dark spots dancing before his eyes is nothing new, honestly, but they are annoying when they're ruining his view.

"Knocked what little sense you had left right out of your head, huh?" Ghost sounds amused and Soap realises, belatedly, that he might've said all that out loud. "Price'll have a field day with this."

"Take some responsibility an' kiss it better then."

"You're concussed."

"Och aye, an' whose fault is tha'? You and yer bonnie eyes. Could get lost in 'em, y'ken?"

"You're off your head, mate."

"Ahm'nt! An' if you'd jus' stay still for a moment an' lemme look at ye, this wouldn't 'ave been an issue," Johnny grumbles indignantly. Grumbles, because whining is for children and it never works in getting him what he wants anyway. Ghost usually looks at him with the flattest stare imaginable whenever he tries. Horrid man. Johnny kind of wants to kiss him about it.

"Tell you what, Johnny. If you're good–" Ghost slings his arm over his shoulder, kindly ignoring the way his words leave him shivering, "–i'll let you look all you want."

Johnny leans against him when he's levered to his feet, swaying like a branch caught in the wind. "I can be good."

"Mmh. You're gonna listen to the nurses once I drop you off at medical?"

Soap groans and smushes his face deeper into Ghost’s surprisingly comfortable shoulder.

"I'll take that as a yes."

-

Ghost keeps his promises, it is an irrefutable fact, and Johnny can and will take advantage of that with shameless abandon.

Crawling into Ghost's lap with a shit-eating grin, paints and brushes well-within reach, wobbling precarious on his perch until Ghost takes pity and steadies him with scorching hands on his hips feels like a victory despite the dull throbbing in his temple and purpling bruises lapping up the side of his face. There are no protests when he guides Ghost's head this-way-and-that. No complaints are heard even when the warm glow of his bedside lamp shines at his eyes and their kaleidoscope of colours become present again. Ghost keeps his gaze unwavering focused when Johnny's hands rest on his face in a mirror of the day prior – though his eyelids droop down the fraction of an inch. It's intense and intimate and Johnny, no stranger to selfishness when he can get away with it, can't help but be greedy.

"Can you be good for me now, Simon?"

His lieutenant nods as far as Johnny’s hands allow and though him closing his eyes is the opposite of good, Johnny can't fault him when his own slide shut as he brings their faces together for the first time – a new obsession flaring to life in the wake of lips brushing fabric.

[realrosielol]

I think it's so funny how Natsu Hyuuga has pressed so many times how "Kusuriya is not a love story. Romance is not the focus. Also fuck Jinshi" then write up the greatest slow burn ever known to man. Not only that, she's literally made Jinshi, the very character she's known to VOCALLY DESPISE, to be one of the most fleshed out characters in the entire 15 volumes of the light novel

[highdefinitions]

i absolutely cannot stop thinking about this article this part makes me SICK

[feroluce]

Not to make everything about my ship, but if I don't do it no one will, so today we are making meta analysis of Boothill's faceoff match about henghill, because the differences between Boothill's stand off with Luka and his one with Dan Heng- and what you can infer about Boothill himself and what catches his eye in a person- makes me chew concrete.

JUST. I loved the scene between Luka and Boothill so much. I love how wildly unrestrained Boothill is. He really just shoved the barrel of his gun in his opponent's face and put the fear of death into him as a way to test Luka's resolve. I utterly adore him. I hope he does it again. Anyway.

When confronted with all this, Luka freezes. His stress-induced hallucinations were already bad, but you can see how they really ramp up in this match, because before, they were always something familiar. Previous enemies became Silvermanes, or Belobogian automatons, or even Cocolia. Luka is far from home for the first time in his life, and he's so terribly homesick his brain is making everything familiar, because that is what he's desperately craving right now.

But Boothill.

Boothill is something so new, and unique, and horrific and terrifying, that he becomes something entirely unknown to Luka. His hallucination manifests as Something Unto Death, as the very fear of death itself.

And this stand off (which I love so much that this is how this match progressed, because like that's literally just Boothill's in-game skill; he locks the enemy into a one-on-one duel, so this was extremely in character for him) lasts long enough that Owlbert starts having to fill in the silence over the loudspeaker,

and even Boothill himself starts trying to push Luka into making a decision one way or the other.

Given that Boothill is a hunter by trade and is proven to have all the patience to track his prey and then some, this was more for Luka's sake than any impatience on his part, to try to shove him out of his freeze reaction.

And Boothill isn't really hard to read throughout this whole exchange, he all but says outright what he's looking for.

Boothill wants to see him surpass this test and come at him! You can see it in his face when Luka finally takes a step! And in how he congratulates him!

And then he fucking shot him snxhsjksjsn

Boothill admires courage, and bravery, and decisiveness. He admires a person's ability to put their life on the line and still fight in the face of danger and overwhelming odds. Those are the things that catch his eye.

And Luka does kind of get there eventually, but it is a stalling, halting motion that gets him there, and he fell to pieces immediately afterwards. This is his first time with this, and he's still figuring it out.

Dan Heng, on the other hand.

Boothill's stand off with Dan Heng from 2.2 is so fucking far in the total opposite direction that it is HILARIOUS.

Boothill literally breaks into the Astral Express, ambushes Dan Heng, and Dan Heng still has the balls to not only demand info out of Boothill- like doesn't even ask nicely, demands it- he also just straight up calls Boothill a liar. Right to his face! And he still isn't nice about it!!

By the way, that entire conversation? This is how it takes place.

Boothill, phrasing!!

Boothill has him at gunpoint! Dan Heng does not have his weapon with him! He does not flinch, and even stands there with his arms crossed seeming simultaneously pissed and utterly unimpressed. He looks like he should be irritably tapping his foot and looking down his nose at him. Dan Heng could not give less of a shit.

For that matter, Dan Heng even turns his back and walks away from Boothill- right in the middle of him talking, too! Not a single attempt to be considerate of the man who could decide any moment he feels like decorating the wall with Dan Heng's brains.

Dan Heng is brave and courageous and completely unflappable in the face of danger. He is ruthless and decisive in how he conducts himself, even when staring down the barrel of a gun. And through his efforts in Penacony, he shows the ability to put his life on the line and fight through overwhelming odds to save his once-in-a-lifetime companions.

No wonder Dan Heng caught Boothill's eye the way he did, no wonder the two of them were working together and bantering not even minutes after Boothill pulled a gun on him haha

[darkforze]

Over the months, Primes methods of trying to get Ricks attention pretty much narrow down to two ways: Rambling on and on to him in hopes Rick will finally get overstimulated enough to snap at him, and watching him sleep.

So during the day, Rick has to listen to a barrage of unwanted nonsense from his lifelong enemy while doing his best to stay focused on appearing normal to the Smiths and finding a way to get rid of Prime for good. Then when night falls, all he can focus on as he tries to fall asleep is the heavy breathing of the man who killed his first family.

Rick refuses to give Prime the acknowledgement that he's starting to desperately crave, and Prime isn't going to start backing down now. Somethings gotta give.