#self-declared nation

[azeerunbound]

The Republic of Molossia is a self-declared micronation within the United States started by a man named Kevin Baugh. He became president of Molossia when he was 15. Molossia uses its own currency called Valora, which is backed by cookie dough . Its official languages r English and Esperanto. They have a timezone 39 minutes ahead of Pacific Time and 21 minutes behind of Mountain Standard Time.

What's funny is that Molossia is still at war with East Germany. Molossia argues that Ernst Thälmann Island dedicated by Fidel Castro to Weimar German politician Ernst Thälmann and given to East Germany, as well as its lack of mention in the Treaty on the Final Settlement or by the nation of Cuba, is therefore still East German land, allowing the war to continue.

Molossia has a postal service, navy and space program.

Some excerpts of Molossian law:

Its illegal to play drums in the bathroom

Its illegal to start a disaster

Its illegal to bring catfish or walruses

Molossia has a population of 32.

They even have a YouTube channel with 15K subs

Edit: This is not a joke

#interesting facts #micronations #self-declared nation #molossia #republic of molossia #kevin baugh #united states #america #usa #nevada #geography #history #american history #funny facts

[indigenouspeopleday]

(6th meeting) UN Permanent Forum on Indigenous Issues, 23rd session.

The twenty-third session of the UN Permanent Forum on Indigenous Issues (UNPFII) will take place in-person at UN Headquarters in New York from 15-26 April 2024. Theme: "Enhancing Indigenous Peoples' right to self-determination in the context of the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples: emphasizing the voices of Indigenous youth".

Watch the (6th meeting) UN Permanent Forum on Indigenous Issues, 23rd session

#indigenous youth #plenary sessions #indigenous rights #United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples #indigenous peoples #right to self determination #united nations headquarters #right to land #unfpii23 #permanent forum on indigenous issues

[fursasaida]

This article is from 2022, but it came up in the context of Palestine:

Here are some striking passages, relevant to all colonial aftermaths but certainly also to the forms we see Zionist reaction taking at the moment:

Over the decade I lived in South Africa, I became fascinated by this white minority [i.e. the whole white population post-apartheid as a minority in the country], particularly its members who considered themselves progressive. They reminded me of my liberal peers in America, who had an apparently self-assured enthusiasm about the coming of a so-called majority-minority nation. As with white South Africans who had celebrated the end of apartheid, their enthusiasm often belied, just beneath the surface, a striking degree of fear, bewilderment, disillusionment, and dread.

[...]

Yet these progressives’ response to the end of apartheid was ambivalent. Contemplating South Africa after apartheid, an Economist correspondent observed that “the lives of many whites exude sadness.” The phenomenon perplexed him. In so many ways, white life remained more or less untouched, or had even improved. Despite apartheid’s horrors—and the regime’s violence against those who worked to dismantle it—the ANC encouraged an attitude of forgiveness. It left statues of Afrikaner heroes standing and helped institute the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, which granted amnesty to some perpetrators of apartheid-era political crimes.

But as time wore on, even wealthy white South Africans began to radiate a degree of fear and frustration that did not match any simple economic analysis of their situation. A startling number of formerly anti-apartheid white people began to voice bitter criticisms of post-apartheid society. An Afrikaner poet who did prison time under apartheid for aiding the Black-liberation cause wrote an essay denouncing the new Black-led country as “a sewer of betrayed expectations and thievery, fear and unbridled greed.”

What accounted for this disillusionment? Many white South Africans told me that Black forgiveness felt like a slap on the face. By not acting toward you as you acted toward us, we’re showing you up, white South Africans seemed to hear. You’ll owe us a debt of gratitude forever.

The article goes on to discuss:

"Mau Mau anxiety," or the fear among whites of violent repercussions, and how this shows up in reported vs confirmed crime stats - possibly to the point of false memories of home invasion

A sense of irrelevance and alienation among this white population, leading to another anxiety: "do we still belong here?"

The sublimation of this anxiety into self-identification as a marginalized minority group, featuring such incredible statements as "I wanted to fight for Afrikaners, but I came to think of myself as a ‘liberal internationalist,’ not a white racist...I found such inspiration from the struggles of the Catalonians and the Basques. Even Tibet" and "[Martin Luther] King [Jr.] also fought for a people without much political representation … That’s why I consider him one of my most important forebears and heroes,” from a self-declared liberal environmentalist who also thinks Afrikaaners should take back government control because they are "naturally good" at governance

Some discussion of the dynamics underlying these reactions, particularly the fact that "admitting past sins seem[ed] to become harder even as they receded into history," and US parallels

And finally, in closing:

The Afrikaner journalist Rian Malan, who opposed apartheid, has written that, by most measures, its aftermath went better than almost any white person could have imagined. But, as with most white progressives, his experience of post-1994 South Africa has been complicated. [...]

He just couldn’t forgive Black people for forgiving him. Paradoxically, being left undisturbed served as an ever-present reminder of his guilt, of how wrongly he had treated his maid and other Black people under apartheid. “The Bible was right about a thing or two,” he wrote. “It is infinitely worse to receive than to give, especially if … the gift is mercy.”

#south africa #apartheid #colonialism #palestine

[mashpotatoe]

im a white jew, i was born in israel,

ive lived there all my life and was brought up in an environment that fosters racism driven by nationalism, nationalism driven by racism.

in israel, they teach you jews and muslims (though usually, they just say arabs) have always been enemies, the same way the US deems the entire middle east as a inherent war zone, ridding them of the responsibility for perpetuating war in thst region.

they tell you "were the fair and humane side who strives for peace! its the arabs who never accept the offer!"

i remember the first time i began doubting that sentiment was in fourth grade, when we were having a discussion in class about the character of Saul from the Torah. the teacher was talking about how Saul, the first monarch of the Kingdom of Israel, used to fight the Philistines, and when she added that the Philistines were the natural enemy of the Israelites, she asked the class what group of people is their modern equivalent to which everyone very eagerly replied "Arabs!" and nevermind that there in that same class sat two arab boys, one of whom sat next to me, who i looked at and thought "but he isnt my enemy? hes just a boy in my class."

they teach you to hate arabs. sometimes they say it outright. sometimes they say it more carefully, or make a distinction between good and bad arabs, those who are with us and those who are against us.

in a state based on the idea of (white) jewish supremacy, they teach you jews are naturally superior. they use the conspiratorial narrative of "jews controlling the world" to their favor, giving their own watered down explanation for why antisemitism exists, saying that it must be driven by jealousy.

the zionist movement always used antisemitism to its advantage, either for reinforcing the notion of jewish supremacy or appealing to the real pain and trauma of generations, people who survived the holocaust, connecting them to stolen land where they are "guaranteed" safety ergo granting "justification" for the suffering of others.

its using peoples real pain that makes fear mongering so effective, and when the israeli population grows up being told all of their neighboring countries want to kill them, they quickly get defensive of the "only land where they can feel safe", but the only explanation ever provided for Why these neighboring countries are considered enemies is because theyre arabs.

and when it comes to palestine, it isnt even recognized as a country, nor identity. just a threat. ive talked to many people who are genuinely unaware of the occupation, and they arent willing to believe it either, because the media narrative has successfully shifted the blame on hamas. because "how could it be us? we want peace! its the terrorists who make us look bad! and their children, they grow up to be antisemites*, might as well get rid of them too!" they never stop to think what environment these children must grow up in to develop these "radical" ideas.

* what they mean by antisemite is really just antizionist, but the term anti/zionist isnt practiced in local dialect, being a zionist is treated as a given

any jew who stands against israels oppression is dubbed a self hating jew, but the biggest contributors to antisemitism is the people in charge of an ethnostate, because at any moment they could decide who is not white enough to be jewish, who is too jewish to be white, who stood against the current coalition government and who is an obedient dog.

israelis arent a monolith, but many of them have been won over, convinced its an "us v them" situation, when in reality it could never be the "us" that "loses"

the israeli government was waiting for an event like the massacre on the seventh of october to declare war, to have the so called "right to defend itself", so they could initiate the final steps of an ethnic genocide and displace, if not kill, all remaining palestinians. under the guise of bringing peace.

it isnt too late to call for a permanent ceasefire, to end the occupation.

please contact your representatives, attend protests and rallies if you are able. palestine will be free, and the flowers will rise again.

[mariacallous]

It is over and everything is lost. This is the refrain repeated by Armenian families as they take that final step across the border out of their home of Nagorno-Karabakh.

In just a handful of days more than 100,000 people, almost the entire Armenian population of the breakaway enclave, has fled fearing ethnic persecution at the hands of Azerbaijani forces. The world barely registered it. But this astonishing exodus has vanished a self-declared state that thousands have died fighting for and ended a decades-old bloody chapter of history.

On Saturday, along that dusty mountain road to neighbouring Armenia, a few remaining people limp to safety after enduring days in transit.

Among them is the Tsovinar family who appear bundled in a hatchback littered with bullet holes, with seven relatives crushed in the back. Hasratyan, 48, the mother, crumbles into tears as she tries to make sense of her last 48 hours. The thought she cannot banish is that from this moment forward, she will never again be able to visit the grave of her brother killed in a previous bout of fighting.

“He is buried in our village which is now controlled by Azerbaijan. We can never go back,” the mother-of-three says, as her teenage girls sob quietly beside her.

“We have lost our home, and our homeland. It is an erasing of a people. The world kept silent and handed us over”.

She is interrupted by several ambulances racing in the opposite direction towards Nagorno-Karabakh’s main city of Stepanakert, or Khankendi, as it is known by the Azerbaijani forces that now control the streets. Their job is to fetch the few remaining Karabakh Armenians who want to leave and have yet to make it out.

“Those left are the poorest who have no cars, the disabled and elderly who can’t move easily,” a first responder calls at us through the window. “Then we’re told that’s it.”

As the world focused on the United Nations General Assembly, the war in Ukraine and, in the UK, the felling of an iconic Sycamore tree, a decades old war has reignited here unnoticed.

It ultimately heralded the end of Nagorno-Karabakh, a breakaway Armenian region, that is internationally recognised as being part of Azerbaijan but for several decades has enjoyed de facto independence. It has triggered the largest movement of people in the South Caucasus since the collapse of the Soviet Union.

Azerbaijan has vehemently denied instigating ethnic cleansing and has promised to protect Armenians as it works to reintegrate the enclave.

But in the border town of Goris, surrounded by the chaotic arrival of hundreds of refugees, Armenia’s infrastructure minister says Yerevan was now struggling to work out what to do with tens of thousands of displaced and desperate people.

“Simply put this is a modern ethnic cleansing that has been permitted through the guilty silence of the world,” minister Gnel Sanosyan tells The Independent, as four new busses of fleeing families arrive behind him.

“This is a global shame, a shame for the world. We need the international community to step up and step up now.”

The divisions in this part of the world have their roots in centuries-old conflict but the latest iterations of bitter bloodshed erupted during the collapse of the Soviet Union. The Karabakh Armenians, who are in the majority in the enclave, demanded the right to autonomy over the 4,400 square kilometre rolling mountainous region that has its own history and dialect. In the early 1990s they won a bloody war that uprooted Azerbaijanis, building a de facto state that wasn’t internationally unrecognised.

That is until in 2020. Azerbaijan, backed by Turkey, launched a military offensive and took back swathes of territory in a six-week conflict that killed thousands of soldiers and civilians. Russia, which originally supported Armenia but in recent years has grown into a colder ally, brokered a fragile truce and deployed peacekeepers.

But Moscow failed to stop Baku in December, enforcing a 10-month blockade on Nagorno-Karabakh, strangling food, fuel, electricity and water supplies. Then, the international community stood by as Azerbaijan launched a 24-hour military blitz that proved too much for Armenian separatist forces. Outgunned, outnumbered and weakened by the blockade, they agreed to lay down their weapons.

For 30 years the Karabakh authorities had survived pressure from international powerhouses to give up statehood or at least downgrade their aspirations for Nagorno-Karabakh. For 30 years peace plans brokered by countries across the world were tabled and shelved.

And then in a week all hope vanished and the self-declared government agreed to dissolve.

Fearing further shelling and then violent reprisals, as news broke several Karabakh officials including former ministers and separatist commanders, had been arrested by Azerbaijani security forces, people flooded over the border.

At the political level there are discussions about “reintegration” and “peace” but with so few left in Nagorno-Karabakh any process would now be futile.

And so now, sleeping in tents on the floors of hotels, restaurants and sometimes the streets of border towns, shellshocked families, with a handful of belongings, are trying to piece their lives together.

Among them is Vardan Tadevosyan, Nagorno-Karabakh’s minister of health until the government was effectively dissolved on Thursday. He spent the night camping on the floor of a hotel, and carries only the clothes he is wearing. Exhausted he says he had “no idea what the future brings”.

“For 25 years I have built a rehabilitation centre for people with physical disabilities I had to leave it all behind. You don’t know how many people are calling me for support,” he says as his phone ringed incessantly in the background throughout the interview.

“We all left everything behind. I am very depressed,” he repeats, swallowing the sentence with a sigh.

Next to him Artemis, 58, a kindergarten coordinator who has spent 30 years in Steparankert, says the real problems were going to start in the coming weeks when the refugees outstay their temporary accommodation.

“The Azerbaijanis said they want to integrate Nagorno-Karabakh but how do you blockade a people for 10 months and then launch a military operation and then ask them to integrate?” she asks, as she prepares for a new leg of the journey to the Armenian capital where she hopes to find shelter.

“The blockade was part of the ethnic cleansing. This is the only way to get people to flee the land they love. There is no humanity left in the world.”

Back in the central square of Goris, where families pick through piles of donated clothes and blankets and aid organisations hand out food, the loudest question is: what next?

Armenian officials are busy registering families and sending them to shelters in different corners of the country. But there are unanswered queries about long-term accommodation, work and schooling.

“I can’t really think about it, it hurts too much,” says Hasratyan’s eldest daughter Lilet, 16, trembling in the sunlight as the family starts the registration process.

“All I can say to the world is please speak about this and think about us. We are humans, people made of blood, like you and we need your help.”

[heritageposts]

The Grayzone has obtained slides from a confidential Israel lobby presentation based on data from Republican pollster Frank Luntz. They contain talking points for politicians and public figures seeking to justify Israel’s assault on the Gaza Strip. Two prominent pro-Israel lobby groups are holding private briefings in New York City to coach elected officials and well-known figures on how to influence public opinion in favor of the Israeli military’s rampage in Gaza, The Grayzone can reveal. These PR sessions, convened by the UJA-Federation and Jewish Community Relations Council, rely on data collected by Frank Luntz, a veteran Republican pollster and pundit. [...] The Luntz-tested presentations on the war in Gaza urge politicians to avoid trumpeting America’s supposedly shared democratic values with Israel, and focus instead on deploying “The Language of War with Hamas.” According to this framing, they must deploy incendiary language painting Hamas as a “brutal and savage…organization of hate” which has “raped women,” while insisting Israel is engaged in “a war for humanity.” [...] Luntz’s Gaza war presentation puts his poll-tested tactics back in the Israel lobby’s hands, urging pro-Israel public figures to stay on the attack with incendiary language and shocking allegations against their enemies. In one focus group, Luntz asked participants to state which alleged act by Hamas on October 7 “bothers you more.” After being presented with a laundry list of alleged atrocities, a majority declared that they were most upset by the claim that Hamas “raped civilians” – 19 percent more than those who expressed outrage that Hamas supposedly “exterminated civilians.” Data like this apparently influenced the Israeli government to launch an obsessive but still unsuccessful campaign to prove that Hamas carried out sexual assault on a systematic basis on October 7. Initiated at Israel’s United Nations mission in December 2023 with speeches by neoliberal tech oligarch Sheryl Sandberg and former US Secretary of State Hillary Clinton, a recipient of hundreds of thousands of dollars in donations and speaking fees from Israel lobby organizations, Tel Aviv’s propaganda blitz has yet to produce a single self-identified victim of sexual assault by Hamas. A March 5 report by UN Special Representative on Sexual Violence Pramila Patten did not contain one direct testimony of sexual assault on October 7. What’s more, Patten’s team said they found “no digital evidence specifically depicting acts of sexual violence.”

They also advice to use different language for Democrat and Republican voters, which inadvertently provides one of the most succinct explanation of the difference between the two genocidal parties that I've ever come across:

To make their arguments stick, Luntz recommends pro-Israel forces avoid the exterminationist language favored by Israeli officials who have called, for example, to “erase” the population of Gaza, and to instead advocate for “an efficient, effective approach” to eliminating Hamas. At the same time, veteran pollster acknowledges that Republican voters prefer phrases which imply maximalist violence, like “eradicate” and “obliterate,” while sanitized terms like “neutralize” appeal more to Democrats. Republican presidential candidates Nikki Haley and Donald Trump have showcased similar focus-grouped rhetoric with their calls to “finish them” and “finish the problem” in Gaza.

One of the slides, illustrating what language to use:

There are several more slides in the article. I recommend reading the whole thing, start to finish. One more thing I'd like to highlight though:

Luntz acknowledges Israel’s mounting PR problems in a slide identifying the most powerful tactics employed by Palestine solidarity activists. “Israelis attacking Israel is the second most potent weapon against Israel,” the visual display reads beside a photo of a protest by Jewish Voices for Peace, a US-based Jewish organization dedicated to ending Israel’s occupation of Palestine. “The most potent” tactic in mobilizing opposition to Israel’s assault on Gaza, according to Luntz, “is the visual destruction of Gaza and the human toll.” The slide inadvertently acknowledges the cruelty of Israel’s bombardment of Gaza, displaying a bombed out apartment building with clearly anguished women and children fleeing in the foreground. But Luntz assures his audience, “It ‘looks like a genocide’ even though the damage has nothing to do with the definition.” According to this logic, the American public can become more tolerant of copiously documented crimes against humanity if they are simply told not to believe their lying eyes.

. . . full article on GZ (6 Mar 2024)

#free palestine #palestine #israel #gaza #hasbara

[batshit-auspol]

have we talked about the woolworths debacle yet?

Sigh.

Alright kids strap in, because the culture wars are back and stupider than ever.

So there are two characters you need to be familiar with in this story before we continue:

Woolies (i.e. Woolworths) - One of two supermarket chains in Australia. Not related to the giant Woolworths chain that used to exist overseas, other than the Aussie one swiped the name because the original forgot to trademark the name 'Woolworths' here. Biggest company in Aus, and also the biggest employer. Not a brand anyone with more than two braincells would pick a fight with.

Peter Dutton - Man with less than two braincells, and current leader of the political opposition in Australia. Best known for bearing a passing resemblance to a potato and once demanding that a homophobic song get played for balance when a football halftime show performed 'Same Love'. His reputation is so bad that if you told an Australian that Dutton's favorite pastime was drowning puppies, they probably would believe you.

And to prove our point, here's the best headline a friendly newspaper could come up with to try spin his image:

The third thing you need to know is that in Australia we have a national holiday called "Australia Day" which is basically a scheduled day for everyone to get into a giant argument.

This is because for the last 30ish years it has been held on the anniversary of the British claiming the land around Sydney as a colony which was:

a) More the founding of an English prison then the founding of Australia, and more importantly

b) from the perspective of the people who were already living here, kindof a very shit day

Now not everyone agrees on this, and even those that don't 'celebrate' will often still have a get together with friends, but it can't be denied that we've shifted a long way from the days when the country used to celebrate Australia Day by kitting ourselves out in Aussie flag budgie smugglers, drinking enough beer to drown Harold Holt, and partying like it's 1789.

(Now a brief break for a real photo of Peter Dutton at a press conference)

Good luck sleeping tonight. Anyway back to the story.

As a result of this shift away from the trend of showing your patriotism by wearing Australian flag underpants, this year Woolworths decided that they were no longer going to be rolling out their box of southern cross thongs - on the grounds that "this kitschy shit never sells" and they are far too busy with more important things like blaming price gouging on inflation and installing self-checkout machines that think your canvas bag is a crime against humanity.

Never a man to miss an opportunity to act like a massive twat, upon hearing that Woolies had dumped their flag merch, Peter Dutton rushed onto the airwaves to declare that Woolworths had "gone woke" (paging 4chan circa 2009) and called for the country to boycott the store, a story which Australia's media have gleefully put on loudhale for over a week now in order to drive outrage clicks.

We at this point remind you that Woolworths is a company which, as we previously mentioned, basically has a monopoly on selling food in this country. Not exactly something you can boycott.

(Another real Dutton photo break)

Needless to say Dutton's dumbass plan did not immediately put Woolies out of business, however the relentless media campaign by Rupert Murdoch's minions did result in a bunch of innocent low-wage floor staff being harrassed by The Dark Lord's fanboys and a few Woolies stores were graffitied.

Allegedly being the 'free market' guy, Dutton also kindof snookered himself by demanding the free market not decide the fate of Australia day, but logic was never one of his strong suits.

Anyway, in the end we're just going to keep having this dumb circular argument every year, fulled by a media who love fanning the flames, until a politician has the guts to shift the date to May 8 (pronounced m8), and everyone promptly forgets this was ever a thing.

All in all, that's the long and the short of it. As a final touch we'll leave you with this real tweet by Opposition Leader Peter Dutton, in all its batshit glory.

We look forward to the absolute dumpster fire of comments this post is going to generate - as is the Australia Day tradition.

#australia #auspol #batshit

[autismserenity]

Someone on Reddit made the mistake of saying, "Teach me how this conflict came about" where I could see it.

Let me teach you too.

The common perception is that Jews came out of nowhere, stole Palestinian homes and kicked Palestinians out of them, and then bombed them for 75 years, until they finally rebelled in the form of Hamas invading Israel and massacring 22 towns in one day.

The historical reality is that Jews have lived there continuously for at least 3500 years.

There are areas, like Meggido iirc, with archeological evidence of continuous habitation for 7,000 years, but Jewish culture as we recognize it today didn't develop until probably halfway through that.

Ethnic Jews are the indigenous people of this area.

Indigeneity means a group was originally there, before any colonization happened, and that it has retained a cultural connection to the land. History plus culture.

That's what Jews have: even when the diaspora became larger than the number of Jews in Israel, the yearning to return to that homeland was a daily part of Jewish prayer and ritual.

The Jewish community in Israel was crushed pretty violently by the Roman Empire in 135 CE, but it was still substantial, sometimes even the majority population there, for almost a thousand years.

The 600s CE brought the advent of Islam and the Arab Empire, expanding out from Saudi Arabia into Israel and beyond. It was largely a region where Jews were second-class citizens. But it was still WAY better than the way Christian Europe treated Jews.

From the 700s-900s, the area saw repeated civil wars, plagues, and earthquakes.

Then the Crusades came, with waves of Christians making "pilgrimages to the Holy Land" and trying to conquer it from Muslims and Jews, who they slaughtered and enslaved.

Israel became pretty well depopulated after all that. It was a very rough time to live there. (And for the curious, I'm calling it Israel because that's what it had been for centuries, until the Romans erased the name and the country.)

By the 1800s, the TOTAL population of what's now Israel and Palestine had varied from 150,000 - 275,000 for centuries. It was very rural, very sparsely populated, on top of being mostly desert.

In the 1880s, Jews started buying land and moving back to their indigenous homeland. As tends to happen, immigration brought new projects and opportunities, which led to more immigration - not only from Jews, but from the Arab world as well.

Unfortunately, there was an antisemitic minority spearheaded by Amin al-Husseini. Who was very well-connected, rich, and from a politically powerful family.

Al-Husseini had enthusiastically participated in the Armenian Genocide under the Ottoman Empire. Then the Empire fell in World War One, and the League of Nations had to figure out what to do with its land.

Mostly, if an area was essentially operating as a country (e.g. Turkey), the League of Nations let it be one. In areas that weren't ready for self-rule, it appointed France or Britain to help them get there.

In recognition of the increased Jewish population in their traditional, indigenous homeland, it declared that that homeland would again become Israel.

As in, the region was casually called Palestine because that was the lay term for "the Holy Land." It had not been a country since Israel was stamped out; only a region of a series of different empires. And the Mandate For Palestine said it was establishing "a national home of the Jewish people" there, in recognition of "the historical connection of the Jewish people with Palestine and to the grounds for reconstituting their national home in that country."

Britain was appointed to help the Arab and Jewish communities there develop systems of self-government, and then to work together to govern the region overall.

At least, that was the plan.

Al-Husseini, who was deeply antisemitic, did not like this plan.

And, extra-unfortunately, the British response to al-Husseini inciting violent anti-Jewish riots was to put him in a leadership role over Arab Palestine.

They thought it would calm him down and perhaps satisfy him.

They were very wrong.

He went on to become a huge Hitler fanboy, and then a Nazi war criminal. He co-created the Muslim Brotherhood - which Hamas is part of - with fellow fascist fanboy Hassan al-Banna.

He got Nazi Party funding for armed Muslim Brotherhood militias to attack Jews and the Brits in the late 30s, convincing Britain to agree to limit Jewish immigration at the time when it was most desperately needed.

He started using the militias again in 1947, when the United Nations voted to divide the mandated land into a Jewish homeland and a Palestinian one.

Al-Husseini wouldn't stand for a two-state solution. He was determined to tolerate no more than the subdued, small Jewish minority of second-class citizens that he remembered from his childhood.

As armed militias increasingly ran riot, the Arab middle and upper classes increasingly left. About 100,000 left the country before May 1948, when Britain was to pull out, leaving Israel and Palestine to declare their independence.

The surrounding nations didn't want war. They largely accepted the two-state solution.

But al-Husseini lobbied HARD. And by mobilizing the Muslim Brotherhood to provide "destabilizing mass demonstrations and a murderous campaign of intimidation," he got the Arab League nations to agree to invade, en masse, as soon as Britain left.

About 600,000 Arabs fled to those countries during the ensuing war.

Jews couldn't seek refuge there; in fact, most of those countries either exiled their Jews directly, confiscating their property first, or else made Jewish life unlivable and exploited them for underpaid or slave labor for years first.

By the time the smoke cleared and a peace treaty was signed, most of the Arab Palestinian community had fled; there was no Arab Palestinian leadership; many of the refugees' homes and businesses had left had been destroyed in the war; and Israel had been flooded with nearly a million refugees from the Arab League countries and the Holocaust - even more people than had fled the war.

That was the Nakba. The one that gets portrayed as "750,000 Palestinians fled or were expelled!" in the hope that you'll assume they were expelled en masse, their beautiful intact homes all stolen.

Egypt had taken what's now the Gaza Strip in that war, and Jordan took what's now the West Bank - expelling or killing all the Jews in it first.

(Ironically, Jordan was originally supposed to be part of Israel. Britain, inexplicably, cut off what would have been 75% of its land to create Jordan.

Even more inexplicably, nobody ever talks about it. I've never seen anyone complain that Jordan was stolen from Palestinians. Possibly because Jordan is also the only country that gave Palestinian refugees full citizenship, and it's about half Palestinian now.

Israel is nearly 25% Arab Palestinians with full citizenship and equal rights, so it's not all that different -- but the fundamental difference of living in a country where the majority is Jewish, not Muslim, probably runs pretty deep.)

Anyway: that's why Palestine is Gaza and the West Bank, rather than being some contiguous chunk of land. Or being the land set aside by the U.N. in 1947.

Because Arab countries took that land in 1948, and treated them as essentially separate for 20 years.

Israel got them back, along with the Golan Heights and the Sinai Peninsula, in the next war: 1967, when Egypt committed an act of war by taking control of the waterways and barring Israel from them. It gave the Sinai back to Egypt as part of the 1979 peace accords between Egypt and Israel.

Israel tried to give back the Gaza Strip at the same time. Egypt refused.

Palestine finally declared independence in 1988.

But Hamas formed at about the same time. Probably in response, in fact. Hamas is fundamentally opposed to peace negotiations with Israel.

Again: Hamas is part of a group founded by Nazis.

Hamas has its own charter. It explains that Jews are "the enemy," because they control the drug trade, have been behind every major war, control the media, control the United Nations, etc. Basic Nazi rhetoric.

It has gotten adept at masking that rhetoric for the West. But to friendlier audiences, its leaders have consistently said things like, "People of Jerusalem, we want you to cut off the heads of the Jews with knives. With your hand, cut their artery from here. A knife costs five shekels.  Buy a knife, sharpen it, put it there, and just cut off [their heads]. It costs just five shekels."

(Palestinians were outraged by this speech. Palestinians, by and large, absolutely loathe Hamas.

It's just that it's not the same to say that to locals, as it is to say it where major global powers who oppose this crap can hear you.)

Hamas has stated from the beginning that its mission is to violently destroy Israel and take over the land.

It has received $100M in military funding annually, from Iran, for several years. Because Iran has been building a network of fascist, antisemitic groups across the Middle East, in a blatant attempt to control more and more of it: Hezbollah in Lebanon. The Houthis in Yemen.

Iran has been run by a very far-right, deeply antisemitic dictatorship for decades now, which pretty openly wants to take down both Israel and the U.S.

Last year, Iran increased Hamas's funding to $350M.

The "proof of concept" invasion of Israel that Hamas pulled off on October 7th more than justifies a much bigger investment.

Hamas has publicly stated its intention to attack "again and again and again," until Israel has been violently destroyed.

That is how this conflict came about.

A Nazi group seized power in Gaza in 2007 by violently kicking the Palestinian government out, and began running it as a dictatorship, using it to build money and power in preparations for exactly this.

And people find it shockingly easy to believe its own hype about being "the Palestinian resistance."

As well as its propaganda that Israel is not actually targeting Hamas: it's just using a literal Nazi invasion and massacre as an excuse to randomly commit genocide of the fraction of Palestine it physically left 20 years ago.

Despite the fact that Palestinians in Gaza have been protesting HAMAS throughout the war.

#free palestine #free gaza from hamas #free everyone from hamas it's awful #we want to live movement #free gazans group #center the people directly affected #Ironically it's almost exclusively zionists who know about and support the actual activists in Palestine #because Zionism is a real Jewish term for self-determination not something you can redefine to demonize us #and the pro-hamas movement is inherently both antisemitic and anti-Palestinian #wall of words #jumblr #jewish history #palestinian history

[matan4il]

The discussion at the International Court of Justice has been pretty predictable so far. South Africa claimed that on Oct 7 "out of the blue" Israel invaded Gaza and started a genocidal campaign against the Palestinians.

Israel's defense team (pic above) did the obvious thing, and pointed out Hamas' massacre on that day, that it's a genocidal threat to the citizens of this country, and that everything happening in Gaza can ONLY be understood in the context of this massacre, and of the right to self defense which EVERY COUNTRY has (meaning that harming this right will also harm Israel's right to an equal treatment), that it's fighting Hamas, not the Palestinians, that every bit of suffering inflicted on both sides is due to Hamas' attacks on civilians in Israel, and the intentional way it uses Gazan civilians as a tool to paralyze the right of a democratic state to defend its people.

To prove a murder, a prosecution has to prove two things: action and intent. It has to prove that the action was committed (meaning, that person A killed person B), and that the action was intentional (that person A meant to kill person B). In the same way, a genocide has to be proven regarding both action and intent. In terms of actions, Israel's defense team showed that Israel has taken numerous steps to minimize the number of Gazan civilian casualties, while the actions of Hamas are aimed to maximize them, and of course that to begin with, the number of fatalities is based on Hamas' reports, which are NOT reliable, and which do not show how many of the killed were terrorists, meaning legitimate targets, nor how many were killed by Hamas itself.

For intent, SA took Israeli officials' quotes out of context in order to make it seem as if Israel's goal is to target all Palestinians. The Israel defense team showed the real context of many of these quotes, as well as presented OPERATIONAL quotes (during cabinet meetings, where policy is ACTUALLY determined, quotes that are much more crucial for what is ACTUALLY happening than media quotes) showing that Israel explicitly declared Hamas is its target, not all Palestinians, and that many of the operational quotes are about giving Gazans humanitarian aid, and minimizing the number of causalties.

Israel has also argued that a crucial condition for provisional measures (internediary junctions that SA is asking for) is not met, the condition that a population is at an extraordinary danger for genocidal acts. Israel's defense team showed that with Israel's efforts to minimize causalties, and with its stated intent of lowreing the intensity of fighting as soon as it is possible, there's no extraordinary danger to the Gazans that Israel will carry out genocidal acts if the fighting isn't stopped. The team argued that on the contrary, if a provisional measure forcing Israel to stop its war against Hamas is granted, it's the Israeli population that would be left in an extraordinary danger of future genocidal acts committed by Hamas. Israel's team also pointed out that NEVER has a provisional measure calling for the stop of an ENTIRE military operation been given, meaning SA is asking for a judicial precedent, something that requires extraordinary circumstances, which SA had failed to prove.

I personally want to address one of the quotes SA used, Bibi talking about Amalek. The exact quote is: "Remember that which Amalek has done to you, we will defeat the evil" (source in Hebrew). People claimed that Amalek is code for genocide, because the nation of Amalek in the Bible was wiped out. What they ignore is that Amalek in the Hebrew Bible is a symbol, Amalek is not about a specific nation, it's about the fact that some will hate the people of Israel no matter what. Jews can be the nicest, best, kindest, sweetest humans on earth to a degree that's not actually realistic, and Amalek would still hate them. Amalek is essentially the biblical term or antisemites. "Remember that which Amalek has done to you" (Deutoronomy 25:17) has therefore become a symbol as well. It's not about a specific action against Amalek, because the truth is, we can never fully get rid of them, there will always be antisemites around. But Jews can remember what antisemites had done to us, and try to learn from it. And isn't that what we ALL say, that those who don't learn from history are doomed to repeat it?

I also wanna demonstrate that Jews DO NOT take Amalek to automatically mean genocide.

This is from Israel's national Holocaust museum. Gallery 9 covers the way Holocaust survivors return to life, and re-build it. One of the main, real banners that survivors put up in the Displaced Persons (DP) camp of Bergen Belsen is presented to visitors:

It's the top banner in the pic, and the words are the original Hebrew for "Remember that which Amalek has done to you" followed by 3 exclamation marks. On the wall to the right you can see posters from DP camps, the top left one (out of the 4 posters in the top row) is from Munich, in 1948, and it is also using this very same quote, as it asks survivors to record and collect their testimonies:

First, I believe it's clear this is a call to do something very innocent in nature, and not remotely close to genocidal.

Second, I hope it's also obvious that this call to remember what Amalek has done, in the context of the Holocaust, is not a call against all Germans. It's not even a call against all Nazis. Oskar Schindler, who saved roughly 1,200 Jews during the Holocaust, was a German Nazi. The first ones to make sure he is remembered and honored, were Jews. In Romania, a man called Traian Popovici saved roughly 20,000 Jews in the city of Cernauti, and again, the first place where he was honored as a hero was in Israel, the Jewish state, in 1965. But also in Romania, about half of the Jewish population was murdered in the Holocaust, most of them (including my family), by Romanians. Not Germans, not Nazis. In every single country, Germany included, we can find those who helped save Jews, and those who helped to kill them. So I hope it's evident that no one was calling to vilify all Germans, as one nation, nor ignore those who killed Jews in the Holocaust, who were not German.

The use of Amalek here is obviously NOT a call to genocide applied indiscriminately to an entire nation. Accordingly, human history does not include that time Jews carried out a counter-genocide against the Germans after WWII. Despite the repeated use of the term Amalek, which came from the people themselves. Anyone who claims Amalek is automatically a call to genocide does not know Jewish culture, but is still trying to weaponize it against Jews.

I also have to say that one of the more despicable libels stated as if it were fact in the ICJ yesterday by SA, was that Israel is trying to prevent babies in Gaza from being born. In Israel, about 2 million people are Arab. While only about 7% of them define themselves as Palestinian (according to a 2020 survey), many around the world (and especially the anti-Israel crowd) see them all as Palestinians. Israel financially supports families with kids, and it also pays for fertility treatmeans for the first two kids of (would be) Israeli parents. And there is NO difference between Jewish and Arab citizens of Israel in this. Yes, Israel is financially supporting the birth of Arab babies, that's just fact.

In contrast, during the Holocaust, we know the Nazis, in addition to murdering Jewish babies in places like the extermination camp of Auschwitz, also tried to prevent them from being born. We have the protocols of a discussion between Jewish community leaders in a Lithuanian ghetto, where they're trying to decide what to do with the statement of the Nazis, that if they learn of even one Jewish baby born alive in the ghetto, they will come in and murder everyone in there. These Jewish leaders know that there are pregnant women in the ghetto. They know that some of these expectant mothers have already lost their husbands, and all they have left of the men they loved is the baby they're carrying. These women would not easily agree to have an abortion. But if they don't, everyone would be murdered. What's the right thing to do, and how to do it?

At the ICJ, SA did not present one single piece of evidence to support the claim that Israel is preventing Palestinian babies from being born. I think it's a whole new moral low, to take something that was actually historically done to Jews as a part of the genocide against us, and present it without any proof as if the Jewish state is doing that itself. This is how anti-Zionism gives birth to new antisemitic blood libels. This is a part of how anti-Zionism is antisemitic by its very nature.

Outside the court, Israeli journalists report that a campaign by the families of the hostages (some of which were present at the discussions), asking to remind everyone of their family members still held in captivity by Hamas, was not approved for publishing in the Netherlands. These are the posters they wanted to share:

While those kidnapped and their loved ones can't testify as to the absurdity of portraying Israel's self defense as genocide, the hostages were mentioned, and their faces were shown in the court, in one of the more moving moments IMO of today's proceedings.

There's also a pro-Israel demonstration outside. An Israeli journalist who interviewed two of the participants, started by admitting that this group was protesting so peacefully, he completely missed them at first. So don't be surprised if they're not mentioned or interviewed by most journalists. He also pointed out that repeatedly, anti-Israeli protesters would drive by this pro-Israel group, shout out anti-Israel slogans, often while waving a Palestinian flag, and film the reactions of the protesters. Just to be clear, that's harassment.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

#israel #antisemitism #israeli #israel news #israel under attack #israel under fire #israelunderattack #terrorism #anti terrorism #hamas #antisemitic #antisemites #jews #jew #judaism #jumblr #frumblr #jewish #resources

[eideticmemory]

BETTER OFF AS LOVERS | SPENCER REID

Three years after ending your relationship with Spencer Reid, you find yourself representing him in court on federal murder charges.

Word Count: 12k.

Warning/Includes: MAJOR CW for Spencer’s dilaudid arc and graphic mentions of drug use. Prison!Spencer, Lawyer!Reader. Bounces between the past and present through bold italics. Mentions of murder, prison, and violence. A little bit of smut.

Because both you and Spencer are compulsive overachievers, it’s been hard to ignore each other. He saves a kids life every other week and your quick wit has taken you to the (very near) top of the DC law food chain. He picks up a newspaper, you’re smiling arm in arm with the district attorney. You turn on the TV, he’s up there declaring national manhunts. It’s hard to avoid each other, but you have both tried so, very hard.

So hard, in fact, that when Spencer is lying in a jail cell, waiting for any sign of life to shine through the bars, he is not even thinking about you. He’s thinking about his mom. His job. His future. His very recent past. But not you. And even though he doesn’t realize it in the moment, it’s a blessing. He should’ve taken the moment to be grateful.

When Emily comes up to his cell, he hops up and all the thoughts stuck in his head rush out in word vomit. Why isn’t she in the office? How is the office? How’s his mom? And once he learns that everything else is perfectly fine, he remembers that he, alone, is fucked.

And Emily’s very good at that soft voice, that everything will be okay voice, but she doesn’t know that. Not really. Spencer knows that she doesn’t and he swallows himself in self pity, saying, “I don’t even have a lawyer.”

“About that…” Emily says before a beat can pass. “I, um…I made a call…”

Spencer tilts his head at her.

“I don’t think you’re gonna like it.”

You’re eating lunch when you get the call. You have a sandwich held in your mouth as you scribble notes on a legal pad which you promptly cross out.

“Miss [y/l/n]?” your receptionist announces herself at the door.

You drop your sandwich, “Hey,” you smile. “Yes?”

“You have an Emily Prentiss on the line for you. Do you want me to patch her through?”

Your smile drops, you can’t help it. Your heart sinks to the very bottom of your stomach and you have to clear your throat, remind yourself to breathe.

“No,” you shake your head. “No,” you stand to your feet. “No, thank you. I’ll answer her in here.”

You close your office door behind her. You close the blinds. You stare at the blinking light on the phone for what feels like hours. You take a seat at your desk, you stare some more. Then you pick up the phone.

“This is [y/n].”

“Hi, [y/n]. It’s Emily Prentiss.”

“Emily…” you breathe out. “Hey.”

“Do you have a moment to talk?”

You sigh, “Is…is this about Spencer?”

Emily pauses, just for a moment, but she knows it’s best to be honest, “It is.”

“Is he dead?” It seems blunt. But, to you, it sounds like a fair and natural question.

Emily clears her throat, “He’s in jail.”

Maybe she expected a gasp. A soft cry. But all you do is close your eyes and draw in a deep breath. You say, “Okay.”

“Now, I understand if you decline. I do. But I have to ask…are you available to come to Quantico for a legal consult with me? Just me?”

You stare at the ceiling, grinding your teeth so hard that you think your jaw may crack under the pressure. And in the span of just two hours, you tell her yes. You reschedule your afternoon meeting. You walk through a metal detector and pat down in Quantico. Yet, you’re not truly in your body until you step on the elevator. You feel yourself rising through the building and the familiarity of it hits you like lightening. You think, not now. You cannot break down now.

Later.

You stand and look over at Spencer’s empty desk, only for a moment and then you tear yourself away. You knock on Emily’s open door and she immediately stands when you sees you, “[y/n], hi,” she moves around her desk, “Hi, thanks for coming.”

You give her a hug, and she holds on for longer than she means to. She looks you in the eye and asks, “How are you?”

“I’m okay. How are you?”

She sighs, walking back to her desk as you close the door. “We’ve been better.”

You take a seat across from her, look around the office, and now you smile, “I like you in here, chief.”

She chuckles, “I assume you heard about Hotch?”

You nod, “I did…only courthouse rumblings.”

“Yeah, well, uh, team’s been good,” she rummages around her desk. “Pushing through. I see you’ve climbed the ladder in recent years.”

You shrug, smirking, “All bribes.”

She laughs, “Oh, c’mon, we both know that’s not true. You’re the best of the best. I wouldn’t have called you if you weren’t.”

And when she sees the light go out in your eyes, reminded by the reality of the situation, she does nothing but set the file in front of you. You exhale quickly out of your nose and you stare at Spencer’s name etched along the edge. You pick it up and place it in your lap, ducking your head to read it. His mugshots nearly make you gasp, but you stifle it. You put your finger to your lips and you try. You try so hard not react. Not in front of Emily, even though she can read you anyway.

You read the entire file. Front to back. Your eyes flick off of the last word and you slam the manilla folder closed. You look up at Emily, her looking at you, waiting for you, so patiently. You open your mouth, and she prepares herself for whatever you could say. Anything. Everything. She’s prepared.

You breath out, “He was high?”

She was not prepared for that.

She shakes her head, “He was drugged. The guy we’re after is notorious for using drugs to incapacitate his victims.”

You nod, “And let me guess. The bureau won’t help with his legal defense?”

She shakes her head, “He broke protocol.”

You roll your eyes, “Stupid…”

“[y/n],” she calls to you.

You look up at her, raising your eyebrows.

“I understand if you don’t wanna be involved. I know defense isn’t your normal side of the bench. But I meant it when I said you’re the best of the best. When I didn’t know who else to call, I called you. That doesn’t mean you have to agree to this.”

You look out the window and your eyes fall on Spencer’s desk once again. It is empty like he has not been there for weeks, lifeless. You turn back to Emily, “Where are they holding him?”

In the dead of night, you burst into the law library in town. It was pouring rain outside and when the receptionist saw you drenched and leaving muddy footprints behind you, she asked, “You need any help, hon?”

“No, thank you,” you called, but you did not stop moving. You marched over to the torts section, you knew it all by heart. You swiped your fingers over every author, noting the alphabet in your head and you were slightly enraged to find that the book you needed was missing. You groaned and checked again. Then again and again. You sighed. You looked around the dimly lit library and it was almost instant. You saw his table, you saw the book, and then you saw him.

And before you really knew what you were doing, you were walking up to him and he was so entranced in reading that he didn’t even look up at you.

“How much longer are you gonna be?” you asked him. And then he looked at you. You thought, oh wow he’s pretty, but you were on a mission here.

“I’m-I’m sorry?”

“With the book. How much longer do you think you’ll be?”

“Uh…I probably have…about a hundred pages left so…five, six minutes maybe?”

You furrowed your eyebrows at him, “Are you fucking with me?”

He couldn’t help but laugh, an awkward laugh, an uncomfortable laugh, but mainly an oh fuck a pretty girl is talking to me laugh. “No. No. You can…sit and watch, I swear. Time me if you want.”

You looked at him, arms crossed. You checked your watch and nodded, taking a seat, “Fine. Five minutes. Go.”

He gave you a small smile and then went back to it. You watched him trace his fingertip down the page, flick to the next one and down he traced again. You were curious. But irritated. But intrigued? You checked your watch with one minute to go and he went, “Okay, done,” and slid the book across the table.

You caught it in your palm, and looked up at him, “You are so full of shit.”

“What?”

“There’s no way you just read all of that in five minutes. There’s no way.”

“But there is a way because I did.”

“No you didn’t.”

He laughed, “I can recite it all to you right now. Front to back.”

“Where are you?” he seemed confused by this question so you continued, “Hm? George Washington? UDC?”

“Quantico.”

“Oh, you are so full of shit!” you went to grab the book and leave but he wasn’t ready for you to go.

“No, no, wait. Seriously. Look at my badge,” he pulled it right out of his bag. “I just got it today.”

You took a look, and when it wasn’t clear enough, you stepped closer, held it in your hands.

Spencer Reid. Behavioral Analysis Unit.

You handed it back to him, “Never met a twelve year old fed.”

“Twenty-three,” he corrected you. “And, uh…I get that a lot.”

“And what does a twenty-three year old fed need with a first year law book?”

He shrugged, “Just light reading.”

You rolled your eyes and he could just tell that you wanted to smile and so he smiled so big at you, hoping it would rub off.

“Book’s all yours,” he said. “I’ll find another.”

No smile.

“A-a-and if you’d like to…I-I don’t know…stay out of the rain, I’d…like it if you’d…maybe sit and read with me?”

You bit down on your lip and you hesitated, looked around as you weighed your options. Then, you took a seat. He grinned over at you as you flipped the book open and it was there.

Small, but a smile.

Back in holding, Spencer sits. He waits. He digs his nails into the bandage on his hand and his knee won’t stop bouncing. The same thoughts rush through his head, but every so often they are cut off by images of you. Every you. Every season. The last time he saw you. His breath catches so tightly in his chest that he actually hunches over in pain, squeezes his fist. His eyes keep darting towards the door, anxious, quick, hoping you’ll come. Hoping you won’t.

What gives it away is your heels. They’re fast and they’re loud, a rapid click-clack-click-clack on the floor. He sits up straight, holds his hands in his lap, forces his leg to stop shaking. Emily walks in first, and in behind her comes you. Picture perfect, dolled up, professional you. Your eyes connect and it should make him nauseous. Instead, his body relaxes. You’re the one that’s nauseous.

“Well,” Emily says to cut the tension. “I know this is an legal meeting so I’ll just give you two some privacy.” And she gets the hell out of there.

You step to the side as the door closes behind her. You set your brief case down on the table and have a seat. As the two of you sit in silence, Spencer feels that you’re judging him. Scolding him, staring him down. But all you’re thinking about is how much his hair has grown, from his head and from his face and underneath it all, he is still him.

You clear your throat, look away, “I’m obligated to remind you that everything you share here is kept confidential by attorney-client privilege.”

“I didnt use,” he spits out.

You pause, your eyes cutting up to him. He is staring into your soul. He wants you to hear him.

“I didn’t,” he shakes his head. “I wouldnt. I swear.”

You have to let that simmer in the air for a moment. You have to swallow it like a large pill, let it force its way down your throat and into your stomach. Through your bloodstream.

“I believe you,” you say. “Tell me what happened.”

“I-I…I did not kill her.”

You nod, “…okay. What else.”

“I-I…don’t remember anything else.”

“Well that…doesn’t help me here. It doesn’t matter if you say you didn’t kill her and you know that. What matters is evidence. The facts of the case.”

“I’m telling you I don’t remember anything, [y/n]. If I did, I would tell you but the entire thing is a-a blur.”

“And I’m telling you I can’t do anything with that.”

“Just… tell me what you really want to say.”

You consider it.

“I’m not here to judge you,” you tell him. “I’m here to build you a legal defense.”

“Whatever’s going through your head, I can take it,” he huffs. “Tell me.”

You purse your lips at him. You shake your head. But he insists. He peers into your eyes in waiting. Begging.

You inhale and with a hefty wave of breath, you shout, “Going to Mexico? Not telling anyone where you are? Smuggling experimental drugs across the border? Are you serious?”

He nods. He takes the blows as they land.

“Do you even comprehend the shit hole that you’ve dug for yourself? I mean, honestly, you-you should go to prison for at least,” you pinch your fingers. “A little bit because it should be a crime to be this stupid with an IQ that high,” and you punctuate it all with a sigh of relief.

Spencer sniffles, “Feel better?”

“No,” you say instantly. And you say this next part very clearly, “Because I can’t promise you that you won’t go to prison.”

The reason that you and Spencer worked so well together, you think - you thought - is that there was a certain amount of independence. After your meeting in the library, after all the pulling he did to sweep you off your feet, you decided that yes, you could do this. You could have a boyfriend who traveled for work. You could handle not seeing him for days or weeks on end. Just in your second year of law school, you thought: I will never have time to miss him. I will drown in school work and textbooks until he returns. It will not phase me. It will not change me.

Then you kind of fell in love with him. And suddenly you always, always had time to miss him.

“Hey,” you found yourself smiling when he called. On the other side of the country, it was only nine but you were in DC still studying at midnight.

“Hey, honey,” Spencer cooed. “I knew you’d be awake.”

“Like I could sleep at a time like this? No, thank you, this is all nighter territory.”

“Sorry I won’t be there the day of your exam.”

“Don’t worry about it. They need you out there more than I do.”

“I know, I know, I’d just slow you down,” he laughed.

“Oh yeah, definitely,” you nodded. “But…I miss you…wish you were here to slow me down.”

“Soon.”

“I know.”

“And, y’know, if we just moved into together, it could be even sooner.”

“Ooh, yeah, and we could get a plant too and watch it die a slow death because no one’s ever home.”

He cackled, quieted down as he whispered, “Just…try to actually get some sleep, okay? You can’t pass your exam if you’re exhausted. And make sure you have a good breakfast. A real breakfast, not coffee and some pop tarts. At least toaster strudels, okay? And afterwards, take yourself out for lunch or-or take someone with you. But don’t sit and think about it and drive yourself crazy. You’re gonna do great. You always do.”

You nodded, stifling a soft laugh, “Yes, doctor. Anything else?”

He shrugs to himself, “Just that I miss you. I can’t wait to see you.”

You grinned, “Soon.”

When your alarm went off at seven in the morning, you checked your phone to see that Spencer had woken himself up, three hours behind, to send you a message.

Two words: Toaster strudels!!!!

And over the next few days, you were truly too busy to miss him. You took your exam at ten o’clock on the dot and you took his advice, you went out to lunch. You thought about the exam only a little bit, to run through it with your friends before you started day drinking, and then there was nothing to do but wait. Keep yourself busy.

As soon as the jet lifted off, Spencer called you. Your phone was buried at the bottom of your bag, which was swinging against your hip as you walked across campus. You didn’t realize it was ringing until the very last second and by the time you pulled it out, he had already left you a voicemail.

As you waded through the crowd to see your posted exam score, you held the phone to your ear and listened.

“Hey! Hey, [y/n], we’re, uh, on the way back now. Safe and sound. I should be there by this afternoon. Uh, let me know if you get your exam results, okay? I’m so excited to see you. Call me when you can.”

Posted on the wall was the glare of your future, staring you in the face, chewing into your soul and you dropped the phone back in your bag.

When Spencer landed and still hadn’t heard from you, he slowly came to expect bad news. He bought you flowers on the way home, he called you, he texted multiple times to tell you he’d be coming over. He walked up to his apartment solely to drop off his things and before he could get to the door, he stopped in his tracks.

You stood up quickly, your face breaking out into a wide smile. Your hands shook and all you could say was, “I passed! I-I passed!”

And in an instant, he dropped everything except your flowers and ran to you, engulfing you in a big, tight hug. “Of course you did!” he shouted. “Oh, god [y/n], of course you did! Here…” he released you so he could rush to unlock the door.

“And I didn’t just pass, babe. I passed with flying fucking colors!” You let yourself into his apartment, still rambling while he dragged his things inside. He stood in awe as you paced around the living room, throwing your hands in the air. “Do you know what this means? I could be a real lawyer any day now!”

You looked at him, huffing and puffing with this toothless, wide smile that sat in your cheekbones. So happy and pretty that he forgot how to talk. “T-These are for you,” he stuttered, walking over to you with a bright bouquet of flowers.

Your eyes darted to the flowers, but only for a moment and then back to Spencer, and he was looking at you with so much love that you felt it in the pit of your stomach. You held eye contact with him as you took hold of the flowers, your fingers overlapping for a split second. And in one swift motion, you pulled him in by the back of his neck and dropped the flowers on the couch. It stunned him, sure, but it was instinct for him to grab onto your hips and kiss you. That is, after all, exactly what you wanted him to do.

You stood of the tip of your toes, took hold of his face and balled your fist in his hair. He grunted against your lips, held onto you tight as you dragged him into his bedroom.

“Okay, okay, okay, just-“ he stuttered as you tore off his shirt. His head got caught, the two of you burst into laughter, and you gave him a kiss as soon as the shirt hit the floor. You swiped his books off of his bed and laid yourself down, pulling him on top of you. When your pants got suffocating, you flipped him over so you could take them off. Your boobs hung in his face as you grabbed a condom from the nightstand and he ran his hands all over your body. Even when he could hardly breathe because you were rolling the condom onto him, he caressed your thighs and his nails rolled on your skin.

You giggled, going, “Stop, that tickles.”

He said, “Sorry,” and tickled you again, laughing as your body squirmed around and you chuckled into a kiss with him.

You were usually a lot softer with him. No rush. But the adrenaline in your body had you bouncing on his cock so quickly that you wondered if the whole bed might cave in. You kept looking at Spencer to make sure he was enjoying himself he was enjoying himself. His head was hanging off the bed, hanging loose from his neck and his mouth was wide open, releasing some of the loudest moans you’ve ever heard from him. When he realized he was getting close, he would grab your hips real tight, you’d stop and after a few breaths, he’d let you go. He’d let you get right back to it.

Afterwards, you collapsed beside him and tucked yourself in the crook of his arm, your hand on his heaving chest. You kissed him softly and he moaned, “Mm…” rubbing your back. “I love when you get a good grade.”

You cackled and threw your head back, tracing his bottom lip with your fingertip, “I love when you’re home.”

“Oh!” he suddenly shouted. “Speaking of, we have dinner reservations on our anniversary at seven. I’ll probably get called out before then but I will be back in time. I promise.”

“And if you’re not?”

“Then I’m a bad boy. A very bad boy,” he grinned, leaning into you as you laughed.

You held his face, gave him a kiss and nodded, “It’s a date.”

And he did eventually get called out again just over a week before your reservation. You have a very vivid memory of kissing him goodbye the day he left. He was himself. He was happy, and towards the end of the week, he called overly cocky saying that this case would be wrapped up soon. That he’d be home with a night to spare.

He lied.

People know you here. When you speak with the distric attorney on Spencer’s case, he knows you. He knows Spencer. And that should make it easy to negotiate here, but it unfortunately makes it that much harder. Luckily, you’re as stubborn as you are determined and with a bit of sparkle, you can get Spencer down to two to five years in federal prison.

That is, until new evidence arises. In that moment, all the oxygen and arguing and fight you’ve given goes out the window. Emily trails up beside you when you return, saying, “I just got the news. What now?”

“Now,” you sigh. “We tell Spencer.”

And as soon as you walk into the room, he is rising to his feet, staring at you. His eyes scan over your features and he goes, “That’s not a good face. What happened?”

“I…” you start. “Was able to talk Martinez down to involuntary manslaughter.”

“Manny Martinez?” he interrupts you.

“Yes,” you enunciate. “And he offered two to five years.”

Emily glances at Spencer, and asks you, “A deal? Well, that could mean they know they have a weak case?”

“Maybe,” you shrug. “But they could also just be in a rush to close this with minimal publicity.”

Looking to Spencer, you owe him the truth, “But they found the murder weapon in the desert. About an hour ago. The blood and prints are yours.”

The words knock the air out of him like a strong punch to the chest. You can see his eyes zone out, stuck on the floor as he sits himself down and tries to breathe. Emily is spinning gears in her head but you cannot stop watching him.

“Okay, so, where do we go from here?” she asks you.

“Well, the two to five quickly came off the table. Now, it’s five to ten at minimum.” Still, you watch Spencer. He can’t stand to look at you.

“And this is the only way he can avoid trial?”

You purse your lips and nod, shrugging, “Plead guilty to involuntary manslaughter, write a statement to the bureau. That’d be the end of it. Any other course of action will require presenting evidence to a jury.”

When Spencer finally decides to lift his head and speak, he looks you dead in the eye and asks, “Do you think I should take it?”

Your face visibly softens and you shrug, “Beats twenty-five to life. Which they will sentence if you’re found guilty, and with this evidence…it’s likely…”

He looks at Emily and when he cannot take the look of pity in her eyes for one more second, he asks you, specifically, “May I speak to you alone, [y/n]?”

You glance at Emily and nod, “Sure.”

The door closes and Spencer, comfortable enough to let his guard down, suddenly stands from the chair, hiding his face in his hands. He paces around the small room and pulls at the root of his hair. It’s very unlike him but in this moment, he says, “Fuck.”

“Yes,” is all you can add. “What do you want to do here, Spencer?”

“I-I-I don’t know. You’re my lawyer, can’t you just tell me what I should do? Tell me what to do.”

“I can’t do that. I’m not the one facing prison here. You have two options, okay? If you want to take your chances in court, I will be there. I will bring every weapon in my arsenal to defend you, but I can’t guarantee that the outcome will be better than five to ten.”

He shakes his head, “The team will crack the case. They will. They’ll catch Scratch and they’ll clear my name.”

“Oh, my…when?” you raise your voice. You don’t mean to. “This month? This year? This decade? Who knows? W-who knows how long you could be locked up before they catch a break?”

He sniffles, one single tear falling down his cheek as his head falls in defeat, “What…what do I do, [y/n]?” he cries. “Just tell me what to do. I don’t know what to do.”

And against ever fiber of your being, you instinctively cross the room and engulf him in a hug. He sobs into your neck and holds your waist in tight in his arms, breaks down when you run your hand through his hair.

He’s hurting but this helps. This helps a lot.

“Hey!” you answered Spencer’s phone with a joyous greeting. “Hi, Diana. Hi! It’s [y/n], how are you?”

And while she was beyond excited to talk to you, she rambled about her son. How he hadn’t called her in close to a week. How she missed the sound of his voice. “It just isn’t like him,” she said. “It just isn’t like Spencer. He calls me. He calls me everyday. Is he okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied as you stood over him in bed. “Yeah, he’s okay. He’s, uh, he’s…”

He waved you off, silently ordering you to hang up and leave him alone. He rolled over onto his side and hid his face under the blankets. He wanted to make sure he was as avoidant as possible.

“He’s just…tired. But I know he…he’d love to speak with you…”

He did not move. And he had not moved since returning home from Tobias Hankel. He just hadn’t. You weren’t sure if he ever would. But as you continued to talk on the phone, the sound of your voice going, “Yeah, yeah,” grating his nerves, he hopped out of bed and went straight for the bathroom. The door slammed, it locked and you just hoped Diana didn’t hear it.

“Yeah,” you told her. “Yeah, he’s busy right now. Y’know, case paperwork and such. I can have him call you back?”

Then there’s a thud. Loud. It shakes the floor of the entire apartment and your breath catches in your throat.

“Yes, of course. I will have him call you,” you stared at the bathroom door. “I promise. Okay. Alright, bye.”

You rushed to the bathroom, immediately trying to open the door but it was locked. You wiggled the knob, you pounded on it, calling, “Spencer? Spencer?”

You found the key on top of the sill, with your hands trembling as you shoved it into the lock. When the door swung open, it stopped against something. Something heavy, something big. So you pushed and shoved enough that you could poke your head in and when you did, you screamed. You shrieked at the top of your lungs. The thing blocking the door, the thing laid out on the floor.

It was Spencer.

Spencer is due to appear in court this morning. You’re going to vomit.

You arrive promptly with thirty minutes to spare and you spend that time trying to find your client. Though you do not see his face, you notice him standing at the phone, dressed to impress in a sharp suit. His hand bandaged in the least disgusting way possible.

“Mom,” he says into the reciever. “I want you know that I’m safe and I have a great lawyer.”

You cross your arms over your chest, stand firm behind him and proudly eavesdrop.

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, it’s actually, um…[y/n]. Yeah, no. No, we’re not back together, she just…she’s a great lawyer. The best.”

And he goes looking for you, at the mention of your name, he starts scanning the room, like he can feel you somewhere. Somewhere. He turns around to find you leaning against the wall. He smiles. He can’t help it. Neither can you. You throw up a small wave and he waves back.

He speaks into the phone, telling Diana, “She says hi.”

The judge comes into the courtroom and almost immediately, she looks ready to leave. You weren’t nervous before, you don’t think Spencer was all that much either. But now, shit is getting real. Shit is getting very real.

“Miss [y/l/n],” she says to you. “Your client is a federal agent?”

You rise to your feet, nodding, “That’s correct, your honor.” You both notice Spencer still sitting and you whisper through your teeth, “Stand the hell up,” and he stands the hell up.

“Some very serious offenses brought against you today,” she tells him.

“Yes, your honor,” he nods.

“Miss [y/l/n], does your client wish to enter a plea at this time?”

You nod, “He does.”

“And how do you plead, Agent Reid?”

Spencer looks her in the eye and proclaims, “Not guilty.” You hope nobody sees you roll your eyes.

“Mhm,” the judge nods. “And as to bail?”

“The people oppose bail and request remand, your honor,” the district attorney responds, now standing.

“Remand?” you repeat. “Your honor, my client does not present a flight risk.”

“He’ll be staying with you, I suppose?” he fires back and you can’t help but cut your eyes at him.

“Good one, Manny.”

“Your honor,” he continues. “The defendant fled the scene in Mexico…”

“Those were extenuating circumstances,” you interrupt. “He was drugged against his will.”

“And failed to inform the FBI of his international travel, effectively breaking protocol.”

“With the intent to return home and care for his mother, who struggles with schizophrenia and alzheimer’s and lives with him full time. He is her sole caretaker, in addition to his career as a highly decorated member of the BAU.”

“And as a member of the BAU, he has connections all over the world that could prove highly useful if he chose to flee.”

“Agent Reid is more than willing to surrend both his professional and personal passports if it pleases the court.”

“Again, he has the connections to both recieve a counterfeit passport and evade arrest.”

“Your honor, all Agent Reid wants to do is stay here and clear his good name.”

“He should’ve thought about his good name before sneaking across the border.”

You glare at Martinez and look back to the judge, “I can provide sincere and respected character witness to the court today. All highly decorated members of FBI, willing to speak on Agent Reid’s behalf.”

“Miss [y/l/n], I am not particularly inclined to hear character witnesses at the moment,” the judge tells you.

“Then we can abide by a curfew, court ordered restrictions…”

“Too little, too late for that, Miss [y/l/n],” she silences you. “If past behavior is the best indicator of future behavior, and I do believe that it is…then your client does present a flight risk…” and with one, dramatic pauses, she says, “Bail is denied. The defendant will be remanded to federal custody pending trial.”

The gavel lands and that’s it.

Spencer is put in handcuffs, in front of his entire team, in front of his family. In front of you. And all he can do is look at you. Eyes wide and terrified, looking at you.

“I’m so sorry,” you tell him. “I’m so sorry, I’ll come see you as soon as I can.”

He believes you. He has to believe you.

Standing there in shame, the feeling in your gut quickly turns to anger and you march out of the courtroom, pass the team and into the hallway. You see the district attorney walking towards his office and chase him down.

“A flight risk?” you catch his attention and he turns around. “Really, Manny?”

He shrugs, “Judge Frost agreed.”

“Yeah, judges tend to do that when things are taken out of context.”

“Hey, the facts were clear as day. Don’t be mad at me because your boyfriend might go to prison, okay? That’s on him.” And with that, he walks away. You want to throw something at the back of his head.

You want to burn the whole building down.

Instead, you run. You run off to an empty corridor, where you are well aware no one will find you. You pace up and down the floor, your chest heaving, your hands on your hips.

“[y/n]?” Emily calls from behind you. When you cannot get out of your own head, she repeats, “[y/n]?”

“Why did you call me?” You shout as you turn to her. “Why did you bring me into this? Why? Why?” you sob and you put your face in your hands, sliding down the wall in a dramatic breakdown.

Emily immediately rushes to you, bending down to hold you in her arms. “You did everything that you could,” she tells you. “You did your best.”

“I’m always doing my best!” you whine. “I’m always, always doing my best for him and it’s not enough! It’s never enough!”

There’s too much for Emily to unpack there, so she shuts her mouth and she holds you.

The day that you graduated law school, Spencer stayed by your side the entire time. And that was good. That was good because you could be sure that he wasn’t shooting up and you could relax. He looked good that day. Not perfect. Not clean. But good. He dressed up, he could walk in a straight line and he was so, unbelievably proud of you.

He handed you flowers the moment the commencement was over. He took all the pictures so you could have the memories forever. He hung on your arm like a trophy boyfriend because, that day, he was a trophy boyfriend and he could not have been happier.

“Surprise!” was shouted at you as soon as you stepped into your apartment. Adorned with balloons and family and friends, you were overwhelmed and nearly dropped your degree. You turned to Spencer and he dropped his shoulders bashfully, too shy to outright accept all the credit. And still, you took him in a firey kiss, you gave him all the credit.

As you walked around, having something to eat, thanking everyone for coming, talking about your plans for the future, Spencer came up to you and said, “I’m going to grab the cake, okay, honey? I’ll be back in twenty minutes.”

“Oh, okay, baby, thank you,” you smiled and gave him a kiss.

He didn’t come back for an hour.

And when he did come back, he overcompensated by putting the cake down in front of you and going, “Sorry! Sorry about that. Traffic was crazy,” and placing a big, sloppy kiss on your cheek.

Right then, you knew.

He was bouncing off the walls, extroverted, enthusiastic, eating cake that other people had cut into and not able to get enough of it. Grabbing onto your waist and kissing your neck in front of a crowd, dozing off when he actually sat, flicking himself in the neck to keep himself awake.

And you knew.

By the end of the night, when everyone had cleared out and Spencer was missing, you stepped around the quiet apartment and found him passed out in your bed. You put two fingers on his neck, made sure he was alive, and you slept on the couch.

You woke up early even though he slept like a rock until closer to noon. You sat on the couch until he decided to get out of bed and come looking for you.

“Hey,” he smiled, his voice hoarse. “Hey, what are you doing out here?”

You could hardly stand to look at him. You hands were bound in front of your lips, your eyes focused on the coffee table. It wasn’t until that second that he looked down and noticed the collection on the table. Needles. A little vial.

“How…” you cleared your throat. “How long have you been hiding this in my apartment?”

“I…” he spit out. “I…that’s old. It’s old. I forgot it was even here.”

You choked out a gust of air and couldn’t help but laugh, “You are so full of shit.”

“[y/n]…”

“No!” you shouted, rising to your feet. “Tell me what’s so fucking good about this shit that you needed to shoot up during my graduation party?”

“I…I didn’t…I was just excited. I was excited for you.”

“No, you were fucking loaded.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Stop.”

“I wasn’t.”

“No, stop! Stop treating me like I’m fucking stupid! I mean, fuck, Spencer! After all the therapy and meetings and outpatient rehabs, you do this? Really?”

“I didn’t.”

“And what’s worse is that you lie. You lie about everything. You’re lying right and you don’t care!”

“[y/n]…”

“You don’t care. You don’t care. I’m the one who shot narcan up your fucking nose so you wouldn’t OD on my bathroom floor. I’m the one who couldn’t have one fucking night to myself and you, dont, care!”

You let out a quick huff and he simmered in the silence of your anger.

“I…I can’t do this anymore…” you said softly.

He stared at you, shaking in his own skin, “W-what? You can’t do what?”

You released a slow sigh, “I can’t…be with a drug addict.”

“I…am not…”

“You are. You are, Spencer, and you need help. You need more than I can give you.” And before he can retaliate, you set a box of his things on the table. Some books, some clothes with blood on the sleeves, some records.

He started to cry. You knew these were real tears because when he merely wanted to get his way, they would start flowing instantly. Here, they came on slow, rolling down his pale face. “[y/n]…”

“No.” You said sternly, avoiding eye contact. “You need to leave. Leave.”

“B-b-but I-I’m better,” he tried to touch you and you flinched. “I-I can get better. I can do that.”

“Not here. Not with me. Please leave.”

“B-but…” he cried. “But I don’t wanna leave. I wanna be with you. I need to be with you. Please. P-please, [y/n].”

You shook your head, quickly wiped away your tears. “I don’t want you here. Please leave.” You held the door open for him and put his box on the porch. “Please.”

“[y/n], please don’t do this,” he tried to shut the door but you held your own. “Please, please, I’ll go to a meeting right now. You can come with me. I’ll get better. I can get better.”

“Spencer…please. Go.”

“No.”

“Please,” you begged. “Leave.”

“No. No, I’m not leaving you.”

And so, because you had to, you absolutely had to, you pushed him out. He fought, never to hurt you, but he dug his feet in the ground and tried to push your hands away. “N-no, [y/n], please. Please. Please don’t do this.”

Spencer was never that strong before the dilaudid. But when he was on it, he was weak. He was slow and even with all his strength, he could not stop you from throwing him out and slamming the door in his face. You locked it quickly, pressed your palms to the wood to keep it closed up tight as he knocked lightly.

You could hear him sobbing, “[y/n]…please…[y/n]…” and his voice cracked. You heard him slide down the door and sniffling, “[y/n]…”

There was a moment where you thought to open the door. To take it all back. To change your mind. Tears were running into your mouth and you ground your teeth together to stifle your cries. Instead, you stood up straight, you took a deep breath. You went into your room, closed the door and turned the TV up loud.

Spencer still lives in his same apartment. So as you go up the stairs, hundreds of memories come flooding back to you at a hundred miles per minute. It makes you so dizzy that you nearly trip, fall down the stairs. Run.

But you make it to his door and knock, greeted by a younger woman who gives you a bright smile, “Hi.”

“Hi,” you wave to her. “Cassie?”

“Yes?”

“Hi, I’m [y/n]. I’m-I’m a friend of Spencer’s. Is Diana here?”

“She is.”

“Is she up for a visitor?”

You let yourself in, stepping in to find that the apartment has not changed much. Same couch, same chairs, same coffee pot in the kitchen. Diana is sat near the window reading a book, picking at her nails anxiously. When she looks up and sees you, she stops and her entire face lights up like you’ve come back from the dead.

“[y/n], hi!” she greets you. She stands from her chair and rushes towards you with open arms. You let her hug you tight, her hand in your hair, your head on her shoulder and you want to cry. “Hi, honey, how are you?”

“Oh, I’m okay…” you shrug. “Can we talk?”

Her eyes go wide. Scared. “This is about Spencer. About that awful mess he’s in.”

“Yes,” you nod.

“Well, please, come, sit. Do you want some tea? Cassie makes a great cup.”

“Sure. Yes, please,” you smile as you sit across from her.

“Y’know, when I heard what happened to Spencer. I-I couldn’t believe it…my baby boy, in a jail cell,” she shakes her head. “But then he tells me that you were his lawyer and I could,” she exhales. “Breathe. You, such a smart and fierce young woman. There’s no one I’d trust more.”

A single tear rolls down your cheek and you shake your head, breaking eye contact with her.

“Oh. Oh, no, no, honey, what’s wrong?”

“Sorry…” you whimper. You wipe your face and huff, “Ugh, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“For what? For what, honey?” she takes hold of your hands.

“I-I couldn’t…I didn’t…” you sob. “I…Spencer pleaded not guilty, but the judge ruled him a flight risk. S-so, he’s…in federal prison. Pending trial.”

You can see the shock spread across her face and it makes you sick to your fucking stomach. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I tried.”

“Hey, you don’t apologize,” she squeezes your hands. Tight, tight, tight, tight. “You don’t apologize, you hear me? I know you did everything in your power. And if you couldn’t do it, then no one else could.”

You choke out another sob and she rubs your arm, cooing “Oh…oh…” and when Cassie sets a mug in front of you, Diana orders, “Here. Here, [y/n], please, have some tea. Calm down, sweetie.”

While you take sip, hiccuping against the glass, she changes the subject entirely. The rest of the visit spirals into a nice chat, mainly about you. What you’re up to these days. And as you fill her in, her eyes light up in pride, in almost disbelief. The last thing she says to you is, “Oh, I do wish you and Spencer could’ve worked things out. You are just…so special, [y/n]. Such a special, gifted girl. You made him so happy.”

She hugs you before you leave and you stroll beside Cassie to the front door. “Um…” you whisper to Cassie. “Is she normally this lucid?”

She purses her lips, “There are good days. There are bad ones.”

You nod.

“That’s the fastest I’ve ever seen her recognize anyone, though.”

For an extended amount of time after your first breakup, you thought Spencer was dead.

After you kicked him out of your apartment, there was radio silence. Scary radio silence. And you had visions in your head of him laid out with a needle in his arm and too much dilaudid in his veins and vomit in his mouth. Or, perhaps, he ran in front of a bullet in the field and no one thought anything of it. For months, you were so sure he was dead.

When you saw him on the news a year later, only then, you could breathe. You visibly and loudly sighed in relief just seeing his face, hearing his voice. More than grateful he was alive, you were grateful to see him healthy. Very clearly clean. Weight back in his face, light back in his eyes. You had almost forgotten what it looked like on him. It wasn’t until then that you knew you’d made the right decision.

You wouldn’t see him again for another two years. Save for a few local newpapers articles, the radio silence continued. You had moved to a larger apartment, close to the courthouse where you were still clawing your way to the top. Somehow, someway, Spencer found this new apartment. It was a conscious decision to do so.

He knocked on your door and you, not expecting company, catiously checked the peephole. You dropped from your tippy toes, sucked in a breath and opened the door. “Spencer? What…what are you doing here?”

“I’m…I’m sorry to drop by like this…” he stuttered, sucking back tears. “I am. I’m sorry. I…Emily…died.”

Your eyes went wide and you visibly stepped back. “What?”

“Y-yeah, she, um, she was murdered. Bled out in the ambulance and I…” he descended into a fit of cries and you just stood in the doorway, watching him. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I-I don’t mean to be a stalker. I don’t mean to barge in on you. I-I-I-I was just scared of what I might do if I was alone and n-no one else understands why I’m so scared to be alone and-and I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

You stood there in shock for a long time. The only thing that cut the tension was a sound from the TV, a strange sound that caught Spencer off guard. He peeked inside your apartment, sniffling, “What are you doing in here?”

“Uh…um, I’m playing Wii Sports?” you told him, holding up the remote dangling from your wrist. “…I have two remotes if-if you wanna play. It always makes me feel better.”

He tilted his head at you, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Oh, c’mon!” you shouted in front of the TV, swinging your remote through the air. “Put your back into it!”

“I am!” Spencer yelled, taking another swing that just barely hit the digital tennis ball.

“No, you’re not!” you swung and scored a point, Spencer feeling especially defeated by the cheer of the crowd. “You’re losing, is what you’re doing.”

“I give up,” he takes off his remote. “This game is rigged.”

“Is it?” you smirk. “Or are you just a sore loser? Not used to it?”

“Uh, yeah. Duh.”

You laughed and it poured a blanket of warmth over him that he had not felt in a long time. “You hungry?” you asked him.

“Starving.”

So you ordered a pizza and you got so caught up in speaking with him that you barely heard the knock on the door. When you set a slice down in front of him, he instantly picked it up and shoves it in his mouth, his eyes rolling back in ecstasy. He noticed you watching him and chuckled, wiping his mouth, “What?”

“Nothing…”you smiled. “Nothing, it’s just you’re…eating so good, you…you look good.”

He smiled at you. Not a big smile, not a proud smile, but a soft smile. A thank-you-I-did-it-for-you smile. “Thank you. I feel good.”

“Good,” you nodded. “That’s good.”

And the two of you ate in silence with the TV on to keep the peace. By the end of the night, his head was resting in your lap and his knees were tucked against his chest. He rubbed his thumb on your knee lightly and said, “I can go. If you want me to, I can go.”

“Yeah…” you whispered, your fingertip tracing his ear, your hand running through his hair, “Yeah, it’s getting late.”

He breathed you in one last time and sat himself up. He looked at you and you looked at him and if he stared at you any longer, it would’ve torn him apart. Instead, he hopped up from the couch and escorted himself to the door, you following close behind him.

“Thank you,” he told you. “For letting me stay. For feeding me. For taking care of me.”

“For kicking your ass at Wii Sports?”

“Yes,” he laughed. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you nodded.

“Okay,” he huffed. “So…”

“So…” you shrugged.

He reached out to give you a hug and before you knew what you were doing, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and kissed him. That is, after all, exactly what he wanted you to do.

His arms locked around your waist and you moaned softly under your breath, sticking your tongue down his throat, drowning in the familiar taste of him. He pushed his body into yours, boldly nudging you towards the couch until you fell back and he could fall on top of you. Right where he was meant to be.

You’re uncomfortable in the prison. Milburn isn’t exactly known for it’s favorable accommodations and the last thing you want to do is appear prissy, but fuck, it’s gross. It’s crowded. It smells. You think: this must be killing Spencer.

He sits down across from you and he looks tired. Tired, but relieved to see you.

“Oof,” you exclaim. “You’re so lucky you look good in blue or else this would be really shitty for you.”

He snickers, shakes his head, “That was actually my exact thought.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “JJ says you’ve been by to see my mom?”

“I have. She’s doing okay, she seemed okay. We spoke for a long time. It was good to see her.”

“I bet she was excited to see you.”

“She was, it was sweet. I…I don’t wanna sound insensitive here, but, if she has an alzheimer’s diagnosis why does the memory of us breaking up just… linger?”

He wants to cackle but he stifles it, “Tell me about it. Every so often, I get an earful about how I should’ve done more to keep you around.”

“Oh. You…you didn’t tell her that I…”

“No,” he says quickly. “No, I didn’t.”

And just like that, a moment that was lighthearted and comfortable becomes unbearable. You clear your throat, “Well, I didn’t just come by to visit, I have news. It’s not great.”

“Okay, what is it?”

You sigh, “Your trial is postponed. I can’t say how long, but I will be the first to know and you’ll be the second.”

“Postponed?” he mimicked. “W-why? Why?”

You shrug, “They didn’t say. But it could be anything, I mean, higher profile cases, judge schedules, anything.”

He ducks his head down, breathing hard through his nose to prevent himself from crying.

“Hey…” you coo. “Hey, I’m going to figure this out. Don’t worry.”

“I know,” he nods. He looks up at you, “I know you’re trying. Thank you for trying.”

You nod, break a toothless smile, “Always.”

When Spencer wasn’t on drugs, you two managed to stay together for a whole four years. This was twice as long as you made it the first time around and not once did you worry that he had relapsed. You spent a lot of time worried that he might. You spent a lot of time keeping an extra close eye on him, watching for any of the signs, overly cautious. For a reason.

And Spencer was patient with this. He worked so hard to regain your trust because he knew how badly he had fucked up before. How different he’d become, how much he’d hurt you. He could not bear to ever put you through that again. And he never did. He was consistent, he was loving and he was sober.

On your third anniversary, he flew back into town late but he came straight to you. You had not officially moved in with him, but you had a drawer and a toothbrush and you could walk to work from his apartment. He woke you up from your peaceful slumber in his bed just to present you with your gift.

“C’mon, c’mon, I’ve been waiting so long to give it to you,” he cut the lamp on and you groaned, rolling onto your stomach. “Noooo, noooo, c’mon, my love. Look.”

You rolled back over and he was holding up a gold charm bracelet that immediately caught your eye. It woke you up entirely.

“I know you’re not a big jewelry girl,” he whispered, placing the bracelet on your wrist. “But this, uh, has a little charm of your birthstone and one with your birth flower. And, I don’t know, I thought it’d be nice to have on while you’re arguing in court, y’know? Wave it around a bit. Persuade the judge and jury.”

He fixed the clasp and you admired the gold against your skin, tracing it with your finger softly. You grinned, your eyes flickering up to him. “Wave it around…” you teased. “Like this?” and you motioned for him to come closer with your finger. The charms rang lightly and Spencer smirked at you.

“See, it’s just so compulsive, I can’t help but obey you,” he crawled on top of you, his voice mixing in with your laughter. “You’ll never lose a case again.”

And ironically, you went an absurd amount of time without losing a case after that. The bracelet was, in every sense of the word, your good luck charm. Your wrist came to feel naked without it and the ring of the metal gave you a special kind of confidence that couldn’t be replaced or replicated.

The day that Spencer got shot and nearly died, you were due to argue what would’ve been your tenth successful case in a row. You were on such a roll. A streak that no one around you had seen before and they were all eager to see how it progressed.

But as you approached the courtroom doors, your phone buzzed in your hand and you answered without much thought. You kept your brisk pace, speaking with a normalcy that JJ tried her best to match. Your heels were fast, click-clack, click-clack, click-clack, until the information ran through your ears and into your brain and then there was click-clack, click-clack, click…and you stood in the middle of the hallway. Stuck.

Your bottom lip trembled, at the thought of Spencer in critical condition. At the thought of him dying. Dying, dead, without you. You looked back at the courtroom and zoned back into JJ’s voice. You took one step towards the door, stopped and turned around.

Click-clack, click-clack, click-clack.

Contrary to the belief of the BAU, Spencer is not your only client. You have to remind yourself of this as well. Despite a pile of work that you slowly chip away at, you find yourself running back to the details of Spencer’s file. Over and over, as if something new will stand out. It’s happened to you before. You think, it could happen again. It has to happen again. It doesn’t seem like it will.

“Hey, [y/n]?” you coworker calls, knocking on your office door.

“Hey!” you pip.

“Wanna grab lunch? My treat.”

“Lunch? It’s already lunch?” you check the clock and gasp, “Holy shit.”

She laughs, “You work too hard. What do ya’ say?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. I, uh, thought you had to meet a client at Milburn this afternoon, though? The armed robbery guy.”

“Ah, no. Whole prison’s on lockdown. Something about a bad batch of heroin or meth or whatever they pass around in there, I don’t know. Attorneys are still allowed in but I’m not walking into that. I mean, can you imagine?”

It all pours out of her like a joke. Like a comedy of epic proportions that you are meant to laugh along with. But you can’t. You think about Spencer and you just can’t.

“[y/n]?” she calls, pulling you back into reality. “You alright?”

“Yeah!” you overcompensate. “Yes. Sorry. I’m ready. Let’s go.”

You grab your purse and swing it over your shoulder, following her out of your office and reminding yourself to breathe.

“You’re sure?” you questioned the doctor. “You’re positive?”

He released a hearty laugh and nodded, “Yes. He is fully recovered. No swelling, no tenderness, he’s cleared to work and resume any physical activity.”

“Any physical activity?” Spencer asked. You blushed and put your hand to your cheek.

“Yes, that’s right,” the doctor confirmed. “I must say, Spencer, this is quite impressive progress with such a severe injury.”

“I couldn’t have done it all without [y/n],” Spencer beamed, holding onto your hand. “She’s been amazing. She oversaw all my treatment and physical therapy. Slapped me aside my head when I was stubborn. It’s all thanks to her.”

You smiled, bashful and sweet, though you felt a weird, painful knot in your stomach. “Well, that’s quite a spectacular lady you’ve got there.”

“I think so, too,” Spencer grinned and kissed your cheek.

Immediately after Spencer was shot, followed by a long hospital stay, months of physical therapy and doctor’s visits, you lost your streak. You lost your glimmer. You lost that aura of shock and awe that you once so proudly carried. Though you kept it hidden from Spencer, you were one, giant ball of anxiety. All the time. It wrecked your brain, scrambled into a big pile of goo until you were having panic attacks in the courthouse bathroom.

Days later, you finally brought home a winning case. The adrenaline of a successful verdict rushed through your veins and you raced up the stairs to tell Spencer. You unlocked the door to his apartment and burst inside, stopping dead in your tracks when you saw him. He had cleaned, cooked and set up the dining room table with a meal for two.

“Hi, baby!” he exclaimed. “How was your closing statement?”

“Uhh, good. The judge ruled in our favor…” you spoke slowly, setting your things down.

“Really?” he smiled. “Of course! Of course they did. Baby, I’m so proud of you,” he held your face in his hands and gave you a kiss.

“Thank you,” you smiled. “What’s all this?”

“Oh, well,” he lead you into the dining room. “I made us a roasted chicken with mashed potatoes and corn on the cob. It should be good, I followed the recipe exactly. And, uh, some sparkling cider and I got you some lilies from the florist down the street and-and I even went to that store to get you a bath bomb even though all the smells give me a headache.” He was quite proud of himself.

“You went to Lush? No way.”

“Way! I thought we could take a bath together. Or you can take one by yourself, if you want. I got some candles, too.”

“Spencer, this is so sweet. What the fuck?” you wrapped your arms around him and the thought pinged in your head, “Ohhh. Oh, you wanna have sex with me.”

His face immediately turned bright red, “W-what? What? Sex? No. Ew…gross…”

You cackled and put your hands on his waist, “You got the go ahead from your doctor and it’s been driving you crazy. Admit it.”

“It has not been driving me crazy. I-I…have…been thinking about it quite a bit. But that’s not why I did this. I just wanted to thank you. Wanted to do something for you.”

“Mhm, keep talking,” you nuzzled your nose into his. “You’re almost there.”

He giggled and took hold of your hands, “C’mon, c’monnnn, I worked really hard on this dinner. Can you sit down and eat with me and then, maybe, after…”

You kissed the tip of his nose and took a seat at the table, “Definitely after,” you smirked at him.

He grinned and sat right next to you. And he watched you the entire time that you tried your food. It was delicious, you made sure to tell him that. You made sure to praise him, tell him that you loved him. He was already overrun with joy, but when you suggested a nice bath, he all but jumped out of his seat.

“The dishes!” you laughed.

He scurried back to the table, picked up your plates and dropped them in the sink. As he ran to the bathroom, he grabbed onto your wrist and dragged you along. He turned the water on, let it heat to just the right temperature and left it running. You undressed each other from head to toe and despite the sensuality of it all, you couldn’t stop giggling.

Sat in the tub, he cradled your back against his chest and he said, “Y’know…this bath bomb actually doesn’t freak me out as much as I thought it would.”

You laughed, “It smells really good, right?”

“Yeah! And the colors are cool.”

“I told you!”

Spencer got out of the bath first and he held out a towel for you to wrap yourself in. He wrapped his arms around your waist as you looked at yourselves in the mirror. He caressed your hair, whispering, “You’re so beautiful.”

You smiled, “Thank you. So are you.”

He kissed your shoulder, resting his chin in the crook of your neck, “I love you.”

“Eh,” you shrugged. “You’re alright, I guess.”

Your laughter overlapped with one another’s and you quickly corrected yourself, “I love you, honey,” with a kiss to his temple.

He turned his head and looked at you, his lips pressed against your ear, “Hey.”

You turned to him, “Hey.”

“We should get married.”

Your jaw dropped and you took a step back, “Are…are you just saying that because I’m naked and wet?”

He chuckled, “No,” he pulled you close, chest to chest, “No, no. I mean it. I mean, I don’t have a ring and I’m in no condition to get down on one knee but you deserve that, you deserve everything and I want to give that to you. I love you. So much. And I never, ever want to experience life without you again. I want you to be my wife, I want to be your husband. I want that. Don’t you want that?”

You let out a dry laugh, furrowing your eyebrows at him. You take his face in your hands, gripping tight on boths sides of his jaw and smush your lips into his. You undo the towel from around your chest and it falls to the floor, leaving every inch of your body open to Spencer’s touch.

“Mm…” he moans sharply when you break the kiss, giggling when you drag him to his bedroom by the hem of his towel.

The two of you landed on the bed with a thud, Spencer on top, tangling his body in yours, kissing your neck. Kissing your chest. Making his way to the apex of your thighs where he spread your legs and buried his face in between them.

Your breath caught in your throat but you released it all with a guttural moan, your arms limp around your head. The thing about Spencer, and that beautiful, talented mouth of his, is how gentle he was. His tongue was never rough, never hard flushed against you, but light and soft, hitting all the spots that made your body twitch. He could make you come so easily. And if you’d let him, he’d do it again and again and again.

But you took hold of his shoulders, you brought his face to yours and tangled your hands in his soaking wet hair and that is how you stayed the entire time that he fucked you. Close to him, bonded to him, staring into his eyes. You legs wrapped tight around his waist. Your body weakened underneath, became consumed by him and you swear, you have never come so hard in your life.

After his own orgasm, Spencer’s eyes focused in on you and you were crying. Not sobbing, just silent tears.

“Oh god, oh my god, [y/n]? What happened?” he panicked. “Are you okay? Did I-did I hurt you?”

“No,” you shook your head. “No, no. I…that was…it was just very good for me.”

“Oh…” he sighed. “Oh,” he gave you a kiss. “For me, too.”

He laid at your side and held you in his arms, rubbing your back, squeezing you tight.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, Spencer.”

You managed to fall asleep in his arms, but not for very long. All through the night, you shuddered awake like your skeleton was trying to crawl out of your skin. When your eyes popped open as the sun was starting to rise, you couldn’t take it anymore.

You emptied your drawer. You packed all your clothes. You put your toothbrush in a ziplock. And for the rest of the morning, you sat at the dining room table with a pen and paper. Every thought that rushed through your head sounded trite. Cliche. Dumb. So you kept it short and sweet and wrote:

I love you. I LOVE YOU. But I can’t. I’m sorry. Don’t hate me.

Aside from the shitty note, it was the perfect goodbye.

Spencer doesn’t want to see you right now. He doesn’t want to see anyone right now but especially not you. When the guard notifies him of his lawyers arrival, he’s confused. A bit irritated. But he has no choice but to let them haul him off.

They let him into the meeting room, where at first, you are sitting but when you see him, you stand to your feet. Your eyes scan all over his beaten and bruised face and you order the guards, “Cuffs. Off. Please.” And they’re off Spencer’s wrists just like that.

The guards leave the room and you are still staring at him. Now you are touching his face. Now you are whimpering, “What…what happened?”

You can see him soften a little bit, only a little bit, and then he is shrugging your hand off of him. He’s never done that before and it kind of hurts.

“You shouldn’t be here, [y/n].”

“What happened? Who did this to you?”

“[y/n.]…” he’s stern, but he quickly changes his tone. “You need to go. Please. I don’t feel like talking right now.”

You huff, “What the hell’s the matter with you?”

He shakes his head, “I’m just not in the mood to talk. I don’t think anyone needs to be around me right now.”

“Well, too bad. I’m here, you look like someone took a walk on your face, and I want you to talk to me.”

“I have nothing to say.”

“What are you getting into in here? Huh?” you scold him, waving your hands around. “Didn’t everyone tell you to shut up and lay low? You didn’t listen, did you?”

Your charm bracelet catches his eye and he cannot stop tracking it, “…You don’t know anything anout anything.”

“I think-“

“No, you know what I think?” he snaps. “I think you ended our relationship in a fourteen word note and now you’re here for what? For what, [y/n]?”

“Okay, lower your voice.”

“Seriously? Your obligation is done. You fought the good fight. Let me rot. It what you would’ve done anyway.”

“Oh, fuck you. Do you know why I left you a note, Spencer? It’s because I really sucked at breaking up with you. You have one little meltdown and suddenly, it’s me. Suddenly, I’m the answer to all your problems. Well, I’m not. I never was. I’m just one of the many melodramatic problems that you have and I needed to be released before it just happened over and over and over again.”

“Melodrama- okay…” he turns around and bangs on the door, signaling the guards to get him the hell out of here.

“Spencer!”

“We’re done.”

“Will you just- talk to me,” you beg.

The door swings open and you instantly clamp up, attempting to appear calm and collected. You watch Spencer leave the room and you want to scream. You want to shout at him from the top of your lungs but you don’t. You think, if I can just get outside. If I can just cross the parking lot. If I just get to my car, I can scream.

You never make it.

By the time Diana is able to visit Spencer, by the time Spencer gets in contact with Emily, rambling and screaming into the phone like he’s just witnessed a murder, nearly a full night has passed. Emily meets Spencer in the moonlit prison and it takes her an entire minute to get him calm enough to talk, to explain thoroughly. The memories of Mexico that come flooding back, the woman who drugged him.

“Has anyone checked on my mom?” he shouts. “Can someone please check on my mom?”

“Spencer,” Emily calls to him. “We did.”

“And?”

“And, she’s fine. Apparently, Cassie was unable to come in and they sent another nurse in her place. But, um…”

Spencer leans forward in his seat, “What? What?”

“Cassie said this was delivered to your apartment,” she digs through her bag. “No name, no address. Just a knock at the door.”

And she holds up your gold charm bracelet, sealed in an evidence bag, “Do you recognize it?”

Author’s note:

Inspired by me finishing Better Call Saul and being torn apart by Jimmy and Kim. Also added Saul Goodman to my list of Old Men I’m Obsessed With 😭 Anyways stream the Breaking Bad universe on Netflix! Thanks 4 reading!! <3

#mine #spencer reid imagine #spencer reidxreader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid #spencer reid angst #Spotify

[quasi-normalcy]

I know that this is the "Turning social problems into matters of individual virtue" website, but here's one change that you can make to yourself as an individual that I honestly think will have beneficial collective effects:

Stop Thinking You're Better Than Other People.

Do I mean that you should go through life thinking that you're the lowliest and most wretched scum who's ever lived? No. I mean that there exists no meaningful criterion by which one human being can be said to be absolutely 'better' than another. And even if there was, you don't know enough about other people's circumstances and interior thoughts to meaningfully judge them in these absolute terms. So don't even try! It's a futile endeavour.

"But what about fascists? Surely I'm better than them!"

Okay, so let me preface this by saying that fascists are dangerous, they're misguided, their acts and intentions are evil, and they need to be stopped, including through physical violence. But you're not better than them. I know that this is a difficult pill to swallow; I myself used to pat myself used to pat myself on the back because, well, at least I wouldn't have been a Nazi. But you know what? If the circumstances were right, I could have been. We all could have been, just as we all could have joined a cult at some point.

Looking at myself, for example: there was never any serious possibility that I could have been swept up into the alt-right movement. Why? Because I'm transgender, and I was raised to be a socialist. How easy it is to *not* become a fascist when you're one of their scapegoats! How much harder it would be to avoid if you're one of the people they flatter and groom, if you're raised by people who are sympathetic to fascist ideals, if you grow up in a community where such ideals are common! The fact that fascist movements can seemingly emerge amongst every nation and people--including those who have historically been victims of fascism--confirms this. What if I had lived a hundred years later, at a time when transgenderism was a complete non-issue, and they'd moved on to some new scapegoat? What if they had approached me on my absolute worst day and told me that all of my problems were caused by moochers and parasites, and that I could fight back and claim my birth right by joining them? Can I really say that I wouldn't? Can anyone?

But even beyond that, what is a fascist but the ultimate example of someone who needs to feel superior to others? What is scapegoating but the act of selecting an entire group of people and declaring them to be inferior to you? And if you just refuse to believe these things; if you refuse to accept the premise that some people are better than others, and call it out whenever it comes up; then you're cutting these movements off at knees! The ideological force of fascism comes from imagining humanity as a strict hierarchy, with the master race on top and the degenerates on the bottom. Simply refuse to believe in such a hierarchy! Refuse to even entertain it!

"But then how can I feel self-esteem? How can I feel that I matter and have value?"

You have value just by existing as a person! But if that's not enough for you, then try this: instead of trying to increase your sense of self-worth by finding people to feel superior to, increase it by being of value to others. Help them! Make their lives better! Contribute to society! Not even in a way that you can (necessarily) put a dollar value on, but in any way you can! Create art! Plant a pollinator garden! Tell a joke! Make someone happy! If nothing else, you can at least give someone love, and I guarantee you that that will be of value to them. The universe is so vast and we're all so small that any value we can ever have will only ever be to each other. And surely it beats spending your life trying to be king of the microbes.

#humanism #ethics #sorry I'm going off a bit here #i've been nursing this one for a while

[sophie-frm-mars]

I'm not sure how much people are talking about Aaron Bushnell having engaged with online leftist media, but the records show that they were a viewer of a bunch of different twitch streams, including mine, and subscribed to a bunch of patreons, including mine. I'm not going to inflate my importance here, the livestream link was sent directly to Talia Jane and Anark, so those are probably the voices Bushnell felt the most connected to and followed the most directly, like idk if they also subscribed to someone's patreon after watching a video abt Cars 2 or whatever, I'm not trying to examine whether social media drove the self immolation because I think that's disrespectful to the memory of someone who literally died screaming Free Palestine. I don't personally know of any leftist creators who directly advocate political suicide, and I know that we all share in the political understanding that underscored Bushnell's decision.

I've already made a point of telling my patreon server that my politics are about growing into each other and supporting one another and that if anyone asked me if I thought they should do what Bushnell did I would say no absolutely not.

I'm ruminating a bit on the nature and meaning of the protest, because a lot of people are engaging with the image of a man in fatigues on fire, standing proud and declaring "FREE PALESTINE", while I've seen others talking about the fact Bushnell's username on several platforms was LillyAnarKitty, mourning the loss of a potential trans sister, talking in depressive terms about the act of suicide, to which I think the people who are engaging in the more macho interpretation of the protest are saying "no it was cool and masculine, it wasn't suicide in the conventional sense it was about principle!" I think there's room for plenty of both. For the record LillyAnarKitty used he and she pronouns in discord servers.

Andreas Malm's approach to self-sacrifice and self-endangerment is that we as subjects of the imperial core are in a sense, precious. Valuable. We are supposedly what it is all for. The imperialist project must be doing it for the citizens of the imperialist nations because if it isn't, then it has to nakedly admit that it is doing it all for the intense power and wealth consolidation of a tiny tiny number of soulless ghouls. Therefore when we put ourselves in harm's way in a way that says you would have to destroy me to get to the thing I care about, we leverage the implicit value of ourselves for our principles. A planned protest by Palestine Action against the London Stock Exchange was allegedly going to involve locking the actionists' necks onto the mechanism of the door into the LSE making it impossible to enter or leave without probably killing them, for example. I think that Bushnell's self immolation sits on a sort of dissonance, my life is precious and my life is worthless. My life is precious and so you should care about the obvious tragedy that I am enacting and my life is worthless if thousands upon thousands of Palestinians are killed as part of the project that enables the life that I lead.

There is also the way that people have debated the meaning of "complicit in genocide" - Bushnell worked in USAF Intelligence and the US has active troops in Palestine, it's possible that they were already culpable in an unknowable number of deaths without having set foot there.

In one sense it's a little pointless to debate the fine details of the meaning of Bushnell's protest in the same way that it's pointless to pick over any feelings of responsibility that I and I know other people that we know they watched are feeling. When I first saw the video I was struck by the language, by their concise and astute analysis and I knew, without knowing just how closely that they were plugged into the same intellectual and political milieu as us. In that same sense I think that they already described what they did the best that any of us are going to be able to:

“My name is Aaron Bushnell. I am an active-duty member of the United States Air Force, and I will no longer be complicit in genocide.”

“I’m about to engage in an extreme act of protest. But compared to what people have been experiencing in Palestine at the hands of their colonizers, it’s not extreme at all. This is what our ruling class has decided will be normal.”

"Free Palestine."

[horangare]

Heyy!!! Just saw that your requests are open... Can I please request a fic?

Something like slow burn (nsfw) arranged marriage with Dino...

(You don't have to do it if you're not comfortable ♡)

Btw, love your fics a lot!! 💖❤️💕✨💞

for the good of the kingdom (and the good of my heart)

pairing : prince!dino x princess!reader

content : angst, fluff, smut (more towards the end, mdni), modern-ish royalty au (sorry but i cannot keep up with that old formal talk), slowburn

in which : where there is a winner, there is always a loser. your country losing the great war was the worst thing that could’ve happened, at least that’s what you thought before you learned you were going to have to marry the prince of the one nation that still kept its alliance with yours.

warnings : dino is totally in love but y/n is totally stubborn, y/n has some personal issues, itzy is mentioned to work for your family, arguments and misunderstandings, fingering, oral (m receiving), handjobs, unprotected sex (be safe), doggy style, creampies, praise, dirty talk, declarations of love during sex, a poor description of a wedding (probably, idk)

wc : 12.3K words

note : aaah omg my first request i’m so excited 😆 also i’m so happy you enjoy my fics, that means so much to me 🥹🩷 (also, i’m sorry this took me a lil minute, this is my time writing slowburn 😭😭)

“I am not marrying him!”

Ever since you were little, the Kingdom of Sokoto has always been the best. The most prosperous, the most powerful, the most influential, all of it. At the mere mention of the name “Sokoto,” people trembled. Hell, just being in the presence of someone from your family or even your court would have the most refined commoner on edge. Needless to say, you were important, and you knew it.

If only it wasn’t for that damned war.

To be fair, the Kingdom of Sokoto hadn’t risen to the top by being kind and loving. Many of the past rulers had been cold and self-serving, but never to the extent that the current ruling family, your family, had been. That was exactly what caused problems back then, and it was exactly what caused problems now.

This had all started in the Kingdom of Hisia, when your father broke a decade long alliance with their people. In his words, Hisia was an “acceptable loss,” because as a kingdom they were too soft-hearted to do anything about it. The only problem about Hisia’s people (other than being too soft-hearted) is that they were notorious gossips. When the common folk got word of this news, they told anyone and everyone who would listen. And soon, almost every kingdom in the nation knew what had happened. From Ilorus to Umbris to Kano, everyone was scrambling to break their alliances with Sokoto. Well, almost everyone.

Of course, the problem didn’t stop with your allies just leaving. No no, leaving wasn’t enough. Sokoto had reigned far too powerful for far too long. Too many things had gone overlooked. Too many injustices unpunished. Apparently, they all had their own personal grievances against the kingdom that had just been waiting to be brought to light. So how exactly did they decide to let you know that? Declaring a war, obviously.

And of course your parents were too stubborn to back down. Sokoto had never lost, never ran away from any sort of threat, never surrendered. After all, there was never a problem this kingdom couldn’t handle, with or without support from the other kingdoms. There wasn’t any need for them anyway. Your army was the most feared and well trained in all the land.

Your army alone, however, hadn’t been enough. Not in the first year of the war. Not in the second. Not in the third. When your father realized that he couldn’t continue on like this, sending the few remaining poor young men of your country to fight a losing battle, watching the rest of his people suffer, he knew had to do the one thing nobody in your family had ever done: he had to surrender.

And now that it had ended, things couldn’t be worse. Sokoto had drastically fallen in status, going from the most revered kingdom to the most despised. Oh, and the gossip never stopped, not even after things had been settled. You heard what they said about your family, every rumor, every exaggeration. You couldn’t stand them.

The only thing that remained the same after the war was your family’s relationship with the Kingdom of Kasmira. The only ones who hadn’t abandoned or betrayed you, even after the initial shock with the Hisians, even after the other kingdoms had broken their alliances, and even after the war. Nobody knew why the Kasmiran royal family still bothered to keep connections with you, but you think you were getting a few ideas.

“[Y/n], I know this is sudden,” Your father said, his arms crossed over his chest. “But given the state of the kingdom, your mother and I have both agreed that a marriage between you and Prince Dino is a good thing for the kingdom.”

“What about what I’ve agreed on, Father?” You argued. “Really…as if losing that war wasn’t enough of an embarrassment.”

Your mother stood up and took a step towards you, pointing a finger in your face. “We do not speak of the war, young lady.” When you backed away, she sighed, and placed her hands on both your shoulders. “Don’t worry. You will have plenty of time to get to know him. Prince Dino is a nice boy. I’m sure the two of you will do good things for both of the Kingdoms.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, but for now you chose to bite your tongue. There was a lot you could say, a lot you wanted to say, but it wouldn’t do you any good to argue with your parents when the decision had already been made for you.

So you were getting married. Lucky you.

The day you got the news of your sudden engagement, you went back to your room and didn’t come out for the rest of the day. Really, who did your parents think they were, making such decisions on your behalf? And then saying that you’ll “grow to like it,” was just the icing on the cake. Who were they to speak for you? Who were they to decide who you would marry? God, you hated this family.

Come sunrise the next day, you lied in bed silently and stared at the ceiling. When you were bored of the ceiling, you stared at the wall. And when you were birds if the wall, you stared at the window. No, not out of the window, at the window. There was nothing to look at, anyway.

“Good morning, [Y/n],” The voice of your lady in waiting, Ryujin, drew your attention to the one place in your room you hadn’t looked at yet; the door. “Wow, you look awful.”

You smiled a little and shook your head. Ryujin had always spoken in a way that was a little bit…less than formal than she should have, but it was only really ever around you. Not that you cared. Ryujin and you had a close bond, and she felt more like family to you than the actual people you were related to, so you could find yourself putting up with the way she talked.

“You wouldn’t believe what my parents are making me do this time, Ryujin.” You started, letting out a heavy sigh. “You know Prince Dino? From Kasmira?”

Ryujin stepped closer, tilting her head to the side. “I know of him. Why?”

“They’re making the two of us get married.”

Ryujin gasped, her mouth hanging open. “Really? And they didn’t even tell you until now?”

“No! Can you believe it!” You huffed. “Honestly, why do I even bother with them? They seriously make me sick.”

Ryujin frowned, reaching under the blanket to grab your hand and pull you into an upright sitting position. Suddenly, her face lit up, as if she was remembering something. “Hey, you know what? Someone is actually here to see you, they’re waiting in the garden now.”

Now it was your turn to frown. “Who? Tell them that I’m busy.”

“Busy staring at the ceiling and the wall?”

“And the window.”

Ryujin shook her head, grabbing onto you again but this time to pull you out of bed, much to your displeasure. “Do you really want to stay in bed all day, [Y/n]?”

“I don’t see why I can’t.” You crossed your arms over your chest. At this, Ryujin scoffed. You were definitely your family’s daughter, even as much as you wished you weren’t.

“Oh come now, Your Highness, you could use some sun and fresh air. If you don’t get any now, you might wither away and die.”

“Is that an option?”

With a short laugh, Ryujin dragged you to your wardrobe, picking out what to put you in for today. “Oh [Y/n], you’re unbelievable.”

“I’m serious though.”

Once Ryujin had made you “look presentable” (her words) she led you to the gardens, arm in arm, where she had said this mysterious someone was waiting for you.

“Ryujin, are you sure there was actually someone here and you weren’t just drunk? Again?” You asked, looking around the gardens for any sign of life other than you and your friend.

“Of course I wasn’t drunk! I’m sure he was here…” She mumbled, looking around with you. “Oh! There he is!” She pointed to the left, and you turned your head in the direction she was pointing in.

Standing in a more secluded part of the garden was a tall blonde man with a slightly lost look on his foot. He looked to be your age and was clothed in robes of soft yellow, the royal Kasmiran colors. Wait a minute…this man wasn’t a stranger, this was—

“Oh my god, Prince Dino…” You mumbled. Ryujin lowered her finger, alternating her gaze between you and him in disbelief.

“What? He’s the prince? [Y/n], I swear I didn’t know…he didn’t tell me.” Ryujin stammered, letting you drag her away towards the entrance and back to the castle. “Where are we going? He came here for you and he’s expecting you to be here.”

“Then he’ll be disappointed to know that I won’t be able to see him today. Or any other day.” You told her. The nerve of him, to show up here and telling your lady in waiting that he wanted to see you without even letting himself be known.

“Princess?” He called out from where he was standing, and you gripped Ryujin’s arm tighter. He just had to notice you, didn’t he?

If only Ryujin didn’t know how to deal with your stubbornness so well. You would’ve much preferred rotting in your room as you stared at the ceiling. Or maybe the window.

You turned around with a sigh, shamefully making your way closer to Dino while Ryujin trailed behind, having let go of your arm when you bruised it with that grip of yours. “Hello, Your Highness.” You greeted him formally, which seemed to confuse him.

“Your highness?” He asked with a laugh. “Princess, please. There’s no need to act like that. Not since we’re supposed to be getting married, after all.”

Oh please.

“I’m sorry, your highness. But considering the fact that we are meant to be married, I think this is exactly how we should be speaking to each other.”

“[Y/n], maybe Prince Dino has a point. And anyway you don’t really talk like that all the time—” Ryujin tried to reason with you, but you elbowed her in the side before she could continue. Clearing your throat, you looked back at the prince.

“So, what exactly are you doing here?” You asked him. Despite your formality, Dino seemed amused at your question. He took a few steps closer before stopping, realizing that you were backing away from him.

“Sorry.” He smiled. “My parents told me it would be a good idea to come here and get to know you since…well y’know.” He laughed, hoping you would too, but when he saw you looking more serious than ever, he stopped and looked away.

“So you’re only here because your parents told you to come?”

No response.

“Wow,” You scoffed in reply. You leaned closer to Ryujin, bringing your mouth to her ear. “I can’t believe my parents are this desperate.”

Forcing a smile, Ryujin leaned in closer to you. “Come on, he’s really trying here. Give him a chance. He’s basically your husband, after all.”

“He is not my husband!” You hissed, which caused Ryujin to stifle her laughter behind her hand.

“Yeah yeah, maybe not for now~” She teased, turning to bow for Dino before excusing herself back to the castle. And leaving you here. With him.

“The two of you seem close,” He said.

“Oh my, how on earth did you figure that out?” Dino’s lips formed a faint pout at your sarcasm.

“[Y/n], I’m sorry. I know that this is all very sudden, and I can tell you don’t like me very much,” He sighed. “But I just want to at least get along with you. I’ll really do anything.”

Smiling, you leaned in a bit closer to him. “Really? Anything?” When he nodded, you beckoned him closer with your finger. “Get lost, pretty boy.” Like Ryujin had done just moments ago, you bowed to him before turning away as you quickly retreated to the castle, but Dino followed you anyway with a grin on his face.

“You think I’m pretty?”

You turned your head to glare at him.

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

For the rest of the week, Dino continued to come over every day and seek you out, while you continued to avoid him at every turn. It would have been easier if he wasn’t so insistent, going as far as to ask Ryujin or other castle workers for your whereabouts. Dammit, why couldn’t he just let you avoid him? It’s not like the two of you were actually meant to be together. This was all just a convenient little ploy by your parents to repair their royal status. It wasn’t real, and you wished he would stop treating it like it was.

You really couldn’t believe the lengths he went to with some of these attempts to get closer to you either. The bouquets of white roses in the most intricate porcelain vases? The hand-written letters—front and back? The jewelry carved from only the finest of gemstones? All very sweet sentiments, yes, but to say you were uninterested would be an understatement.

On Friday, much to your embarrassment, Ryujin found you hiding from him underneath one of the tables in the kitchen. When she realized it was you, she shook her head and sighed.

“[Y/n], this is just sad.”

You shushed her, trying to squeeze yourself farther into the corner underneath the table. “Be quiet. He could be listening.”

“You have got to stop running from that boy. I mean really, what’s the big deal. He’s actually really nice.”

“The big deal is that I don’t need him following me around like a stray dog.” You scoffed. “Seriously, why couldn’t we just be a normal family of shunned royalty?”

“You don’t mean that.” She said. “And besides, it’s only a matter of time before he finds you. He’s really not giving up either, [Y/n].”

Realizing she was right, you crawled out from under the table, muttering a few curses under your breath. “Believe me, I know. He won’t stop sending me gifts.” Ryujin smiled when you said that.

“Wow, isn’t he charming.” Ryujin chuckled. “And speaking of him, he told me to tell you to meet him in the gardens again today.”

“Why is he always telling you all this stuff and not me?”

Ryujin looked at you incredulously. “Because you avoid him like the damn plague.”

Oh, right. She did have a point. Whatever, it’s not like you were going to go. You had managed to avoid him all week, and absolutely nothing would convince you to go.

Ryujin seemed to sense this, and she smirked. “He made you a picnic.”

“I’m so happy you actually came,” Dino smiled at you. You sat across from him, holding the bowl of strawberries he had set out before him on the blanket. You looked up at him, pulling the strawberry you had been eating away from your mouth so you could respond to him.

“I just came because Ryujin told me about the picnic.” You curtly responded, bringing the strawberry back to your mouth. You thought he would’ve stopped smiling when you said that, but his smile only grew wider.

“So that’s all it takes then.” He mumbled. “Is that why you didn’t care for the gifts I sent before?”

You looked him up and down, sneering. “No, it was because I just didn’t care for them. It’s not wise to spend your money so carelessly on things that don’t matter.”

Dino leaned back, bracing himself up with his hands. “Trying to please my future wife doesn’t matter?”

You stiffened, gripping the bowl tighter in your hands. “Stop saying things like that.” You warned, yet he still seemed unphased as he watched you devour the rest of the strawberries. When the bowl had been emptied, you stared down into it with a frown and began to regret your greed for the little red fruit, because now you were all out.

Dino picked up the bowl once you had tossed it aside. “Should I ask someone to get you some more? I didn’t realize you would eat the entire bowl.”

“No.” You dismissively waved your hand, pushing away the thoughts of the strawberries, even though the offer of more was tempting. You hadn’t had strawberries since before the war. They didn’t grow in Sokoto, which is a fact that devastated you when you found out, and you always relied on a fresh monthly shipment of them from the Hisians and now…well…you’ve just gone a long time without strawberries. “No, It’s fine.”

Dino, however, was as insistent as ever. He picked up the bowl and started walking back to the castle. “I’ll ask Ryujin for more strawberries. Don’t disappear on me, okay?”

You spared him a single glance before looking elsewhere. “No promises.”

Dino laughed to himself, the words almost escaping his ears as he marched back to the castle with a little extra speed. He knew you wouldn’t leave—at least he hoped he knew. He wanted to trust himself, to trust you, but you were unpredictable. Thankfully, a little unpredictability was hardly an issue for him.

Though honestly, if you wanted to leave at any time, you definitely would. But with the promise of your favorite fruit, the urge to leave was just a bit short of overwhelming at the moment. Shifting yourself to lie on your stomach, you started to take notice of all the different things that Dino had packed with him on this picnic. All of your favorites…even the things you hadn’t gotten to taste in years. How could he know about any of this? You grumbled at the thought of Ryujin or any of the chefs selling you out.

You also took notice of the white rose sticking out of the basket. While they were the official flower of Kasmira, you were sure he must’ve had a secret stash of these somewhere because to be honest, you were getting tired of seeing them. But this one looked especially delicate, you couldn’t help but reach forward and take it in your hands, twirling it around and even holding it to your nose to take in the faint scent.

The sound of Dino’s footsteps on the gravel path had you looking over your shoulder, noticing he came back with an even bigger bowl of strawberries than he had left with. His classic smile returned to his face when he saw that your eyes had widened.

“I hope you don’t mind, but Ryujin insisted on giving you a bigger bowl. Said that you’d have no problem finishing the entire thing.” Him saying that had you coming back to your senses. Ryujin was just asking to be put out of a job going and telling those things to Dino.

You turned away, gazing down at the bowl when Dino set it in front of you. He sat himself down next to you, choosing to stay silent as he watched you set the rose to the side and pull the bowl closer to you.

“How did you know I liked all this stuff?” You asked quietly. Dino let out some sort of confused dound, and you sighed. “The food, I mean. Like…the strawberries. I haven’t had them in ages.”

Dino nodded, having understood what you meant. “When I told Ryujin I wanted to do this for you, she told me about all of the foods you always eat.” He laughed. “Really, I didn’t realize that you could be so choosy with your food. Do you know how hard it is to get fresh strawberries at this time if the year?”

“Oh fuck off.” Dino gasped, his mouth falling open at your sudden vulgarity. You were surprised too, covering your mouth with one of your hands once the words you had said sunk in. “I didn’t mean to say that.”

“I didn’t know the Princess of Sokoto had such a filthy mouth,” He mumbled. For a brief moment, you were actually wondering if he was serious, but the smirk that slowly appeared on his face gave him away. Unable to fight the urges telling you not to, you hit him in the arm, biting back grin when he winced. “I didn’t know you hit so hard, either.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Your Highness.” You stared at the strawberry in your hand, taking one bite before placing it back in the bowl. “I shouldn’t eat any more. The chefs will be preparing dinner soon.”

“Leaving so soon?” He asked, and you nodded. “Alright then, should I escort you back?” He extended one of his hands towards you, and you stared at it for a moment, but still ended up declining. You didn’t miss the glint of disappointment in his eyes, either.

“We should do this again sometime.” You noted. “And I’m not saying that because I want to be around you, but because I enjoyed the food.”

Ah, there it was again, that classic bright smile.

“Also, you smile too much. I don’t like it.”

You had been right about the strawberries. They did end up spoiling your appetite. You stared down at your plate, many of the contents on your plate going uneaten before you excused yourself to your room, Ryujin trailing behind as usual.

“[Y/n], what’s the matter? Was something wrong at dinner?” She asked, following you around as you threw yourself into bed. “Is it so bad you’re not even going to bother to change out of your outfit from today? Seriously, it’s going to get all wrinkled, and that’s just extra work for Yeji to do later.”

“I ate too many strawberries.” You stated. “Though I’m sure you know about that, right?”

Ryujin looked away, shrugging and shaking her head. “I’m not sure that I do, actually,” She mumbled, pairing it with an awkward laugh when she noticed you glaring at her. “Anyway, how was your little date with Prince Dino?”

“Ryujin, it was not a date. And even if it was, it would’ve been a pretty shitty date considering he left me in the middle of it.”

“Ah, c’mon, he came back! And he came bearing gifts!” She tried to reason with you, which you found both pointless and confusing.

You rolled your eyes, burying your head under the blankets, despite Ryujin’s protests that you would mess up your hair and get more wrinkles in your clothes. It wasn’t really a date, was it? Is that what dates were? Just being around another person, having them close by, talking (or not talking) to each other about whatever crossed your mind? That was a date? No way, you knew what a date was and whatever you and Dino had going on definitely wasn’t that. People went on dates when they loved each other, when there was romance budding and underlying tension. Yeah, that definitely wasn’t a date.

“Are you seriously not going to change out of that?” Ryujin asked, trying to pull down the blankets, but you were, unsurprisingly, stronger. With a sigh, she backed away. “Fine, but if Yeji asks me why your outfits are so wrinkled, I’m telling her.” You lowered the blanket just low enough to see her march out of the room and slam your door shut.

Normally, you would’ve fallen asleep after just a few minutes with your eyes closed. However, your stomach still felt funny and you tossed and turned every few minutes. We’re those strawberries really fresh? Would Dino serve you rotten strawberries? No, of course not…they were too red to be out of season. Not only that, but there was little chance Dino would do anything like that to you. He was too nice. The reason your parents ever think you two were some sort of match made and heaven was beyond you.

You couldn’t sleep yet. Not like this. Not with the ache in your stomach and the thoughts racing around in your head. Sighing, you gathered the little strength you had left to roll yourself out of bed, wandering through the halls and corridors until you needed up outside, at the front of the castle. A deep breath, followed by a slow exhale, and your head fell back towards the sky. The night sky was clear and vast and full of stars, and you felt your lips curl into a smile.

The stars understood you. When everyone else had abandoned you, abandoned your family, you sought comfort in the starry night sky. The stars never turned you away. The stars never betrayed you. The stars never forced you to do anything you couldn’t decide on. When you died, you hoped you became a star. They would surely accept you with open arms, like a real family.

You were so caught up in your thoughts, you hadn’t even noticed someone approaching you. A tall, blonde, someone.

“So you like the stars?” Dino asked, and you jumped a little. He took a step back, feeling bad for having startled you. “Sorry, [Y/n]. It’s just me.”

You furrowed your eyebrows and stared at him, but turned your attention quickly back to the sky. “What are you doing out here?”

“I could ask you that too.” He said, following your gaze and looking up. “It’s late for a princess to be alone outside at night.”

“My stomach hurts.” You told him. “From the strawberries. A walk always helps.”

“That was hours ago.” He said. “That’s weird. They were definitely fresh. Are you sure it was the strawberries?”

“What else could it have been?” You asked, your tone a bit harsher than you intended. You sighed, deciding to change the subject. “What about you? Why are you out here? I thought you went back home.”

“It’s not like I live far.” He had a point…kind of. Kasmira was your closest neighbor, only being about a few hundred miles to the east. You were seriously wondering how he managed to get here every day and still have so much time to spend entertaining the hope of getting to coax you out of your room to spend time with him. “Aww, are you worried about me?”

“Don’t go talking like that.” You told him. “Unless you want me to hit you again.”

Dino chuckled, breaking his eyes away from the sky to look at you. “You never answered my question from earlier.”

“Which one? I’m not keeping count.”

“Do you like the stars?”

You managed to look away from the stars to allow your eyes to meet Dino’s, even if only for a second. “Yeah. I always have.”

He stepped closer. “Why?”

“Because…” You hesitated. Why were you hesitating? “I just do.”

You froze, feeling something wet and warm sliding down your cheek. Dino gasped, coming even closer to see you clearly.

“You just ‘do?’ Is that really all there is to it?”

“Why do you keep asking me so many questions?” When you came out here, you had been hoping for a moment of peace and quiet. A chance to vent your frustrations to the sky, like you had done since you could talk. This was your one chance for a little bit of solitude, and you hadn’t wanted anyone intruding on it.

“I was thinking about what you said before,” He said. “When you told me there was a lot I didn’t know about you. You were right, I don’t know a lot about you.”

Okay, great. Now you were starting to feel bad about getting so upset. You sighed, lowering your head and looking at the ground. “I’ve always liked the stars. I just…find comfort in them.”

Dino wondered if you were going to say more, but you kept your lips pursed, and he figured there was more to it that you weren’t saying. That was fine, he wouldn’t push an answer out of you if you weren’t ready, he was just grateful you had confided in him. This was progress, even if it was only a small step forward.

The two of you continued to stand there in silence, looking everywhere but at each other. There was a strange feeling in the air, and it made you uncomfortable. Was this tension? Could Dino feel it too?

“Um, I should probably get back to bed.” You said, noticing Dino nod out of the corner of your eye. Like before, he extended his hand to you, and once again you declined. “Good night, Your Highness.”

“Good night, [Y/n].”

The next morning, you did something you hadn’t done in a long time.

You shocked Ryujin.

“What are you doing awake already?” She questioned. “Is it opposite day? Am I still dreaming?”

“Oh you’re so funny, Ryujin.” You said, sliding past her and out of the door.

“Where are you going? And how are you already dressed? You did my job for me…am I getting fired?”

You laughed. “Relax. I’m just going to the orchard.” Ryujin narrowed her eyes at how casual you seemed, not even trying to hide her skepticism.

“The orchard? For what? We have plenty of apples here. Too many, if I’m being honest. Where are you really going?”

“Ryujin, really, what reason do you have not to trust me?”

“I have several. An entire list, actually.” She said. “Seems like I’ll be making an addition to it today.

“Ryujin, I’m giving you a day off, don’t you get it?” You asked her. “Now I suggest you take it before I make you do your job.”

Her demeanor changed in an instant.

“You are most gracious, Your Highness.” She bowed to you and then ran off to who knows where, probably the maids quarters, no doubt. Whatever, that was her business. Just like your trip to the orchard with Prince Dino was yours.

Since the picnic, he had stopped with the other gifts—well, he still sent you the flowers—and had started planning on bringing you out, starting with Kasmira’s renowned apple orchard. Kasmiran apples were spoken about in every corner of every kingdom, known for their distinctive flavor and sweetness. You’d be lying if you said you never wanted to try one for yourself, and now you would finally get the chance.

He was waiting for you with a carriage, which he offered to help you into.

You raised one of your eyebrows. “What, you think I need your help to sit down?” When he pouted, you gave him a light shove. “I’m only kidding. But really, I’ve got it.”

“That was a joke?” He asked, climbing in and sitting across from you. “I’m shocked. I didn’t know you even had a sense of humor.”

“Excuse me?”

“Ah, no, I didn’t mean it like that. You’re just normally so…serious. If you hadn’t told me, I wouldn’t have known you were kidding.”

You tilted your head back, resting it on the solid interior of the carriage. “The only person I ever joke with is Ryujin.” You explained to him. “She gets me. It’s easy to laugh with her.”

“You laugh too?” He just couldn’t stop. “I’ll believe it when I hear it.” He teased.

You glared at him, opening your mouth to say something, but decided against it. Instead, you turned your head to look out of the window, watching the landscape as it came into view and faded out of sight with the movement with the carriage.

“Will we be there soon?” You asked, wanting nothing more than to get to Kasmira as fast as possible to get your hands on one (or five) of those apples you had heard so much about.

“Yeah…” Dino nodded, then stopped and shook his head. “No, it’ll be about fifty minutes.”

Great, fifty minutes until you got to taste the rumored honey and heaven apples. Fifty minutes left riding inside this tiny little compartment with too little space keeping you and Dino apart. Just great.

To your surprise, the ride had been faster than you expected. It might’ve had something to do to the nap you took on the way, but that was neither here nor there. Dino placed a hand on your shoulder, softly shaking you awake.

“Hm?” You hummed, the clutches of sleep still gripping your brain. You blinked yourself awake, gasping when you saw the field of trees from the carriage window. “We’re here!”

Dino opened the door, sliding out of the seat and holding the door open for you. You practically jumped out, an awestruck smile on your face as you stared up at the trees littered with the soft pink apples.

Dino smiled softly at your enthusiasm, watching as you stood up as tall as you could and plucked an apple off a branch, happily bringing it to your mouth to take a bite.

Oh god, the rumors did no justice to describe the taste of these apples. You had never tasted anything as fresh and crisp in your entire life. Giving Dino a quick glance, you continued to bite into the apple over and over again until he pulled it away from you, laughing.

“So, what do you think?”

You covered your mouth with one hand, trying to chew and swallow what was in your mouth, before nodding with a smile. “They’re amazing! I’ve never tasted anything so good in my life!” You took the apple back from Dino’s hands, taking the last few bites before you had finished it off.

“Then let’s get you a few more, hmm?” He said, pressing a hand against the small of your back while he reached up to grab a few more apples and drop them into the basket he had brought with him in his other hand. You froze, your skin burning at the feeling of his hands on your body.

“Um…Prince Dino?” You mumbled, catching his attention. You had never called him by anything other than “Your Highness” since the two of you first met, and he was definitely shocked to hear you say those words.

“Yes, [Y/n]?” He said, looking down at you but never moving his hand from your back.

“Your—your hand…” Dino looked down at his hand was, immediately pulling it away from where it had been, and in an instant you felt the warmth that had been there fade away.

“Oh, I’m so sorry [Y/n], I didn’t even realize.” He apologized. Without another word, he leaned down to pick up the basket and handed it to you. “Here you go, [Y/n]. Should I come with you to—”

“No!” You shouted, though you hadn’t meant to raise your voice. “No, no. There’s no need. I’ll go back on my own.”

Dino wanted to say something, but you had already turned your back to him, rushing back to the carriage and telling the driver to bring you back to Sokoto before he could. Glancing out of the window, you noticed him standing under the tree, watching you get farther and farther away, his arms limp at his sides.

You brought a hand to your chest, feeling your heart beat twice as fast than it should have been. This shouldn’t have been happening. This was exactly the reason you didn’t want him touching you, the reason you had refused to touch him, because you knew that if it happened, you wouldn’t be able to control how it would affect you. Even though it had been such a harmless, domestic, innocent touch, if it could get this much of a reaction out of you, maybe you should get stricter on the “no touching” rule.

This is not at all how you thought today would turn out.

The next day things had gone back to the way they had been in the beginning; with you holed up in your room, avoiding Dino. And it was like that for the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that. Ryujin had tried to get you outside, or at the very least to the dinner table, but her persistence couldn’t stand a chance against your stubbornness. Once a week had passed since the apple incident, Ryujin couldn’t take it any more.

“Enough is enough [Y/n]. You haven’t left your room in a week. Dino won’t stop hounding me with questions about where you are every day, and I can’t take it anymore!” She huffed. “You need to get up and go see him so I don’t have to.”

“Ryujin, I can’t.” You said with a heavy sigh. “It’s just…complicated.”

“How complicated could things really be?”

More complicated than you would’ve liked. “I just can’t see him right now.”

“Well that’s too bad, because I told him you would.” Ryujin shrugged. “He’ll be here later, so we have to make you look…like you again, now.”

“Ryujin, I’m tired of you trying to play matchmaker. Are my parents paying you to do this to me?” You asked, your tone nothing short of accusatory.

“I’m doing this because you don’t need to be locked up in this room all day. Not only that, but I can tell how much you and Dino like spending time with each other.”

The rebuttal in your mind died in your throat at the last sentence Ryujin had said. The time you had spend with Dino recently hadn’t been all bad…but what did she know?

“Now get up. Unless you want Dino to come over and see you like…that.” She gestured to your overall disheveled appearance, a grimace on her face.

“Oh yeah, like you’re not a sight for sore eyes.” You hissed, then broke out into laughter along with Ryujin a second later. “Fine, whatever, I’m getting up.”

The next hour consisted of a long, soapy bubble bath, followed by Ryujin washing and doing your hair, and finally her picking out the finest outfit for you to wear just in time for Dino’s arrival in his favorite rendezvous point: the Sokoto castle gardens.

Fuck, you were so nervous.

Dino arrived with a single white rose in his hand and a smile, thrilled to be able to see you again. Ryujin bowed and wandered off, leaving with. Alone. Again.

“For you.” He said, handing the rose to you. You looked down at it before you gingerly took it from him and thanked him with a fleeting smile.

“Thank you.”

Awkward silence. The worst type of silence. This is exactly why you wanted to avoid him, to prevent all of these unnecessary feelings.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable that day…at the orchard.” He said. “And my apology was so shitty, I—”

“Dino, stop. Don’t apologize. It’s…It’s okay. I shouldn’t have run off on you like that. It was rude of me.”

Dino stepped closer, noticing the way your body tensed up when he did. “[Y/n], what’s going on?”

“I…I don’t want you to touch me.” You whispered. The grip you had on the rose was starting to hurt your hand. Dino gave you a curious and worried look.

“Why?”

“…Because when you touched me at the orchard, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I don’t think I’ve ever felt that way before in my life.”

You expected many different reactions from Dino. You expected him to back away, to call you strange or disgusting. You expected him to go running back to Kasmira as fast has his feet would carry him, to start avoiding you like you had been avoiding him. You even expected him to ask to call off the marriage agreement and find someone better, or nicer, or prettier.

You never expected him to pull you close, cursing under his breath and pulling your face up to look at him.

“Really, baby?” He asked, his voice suddenly soft, a direct contract to the way his eyes darkened. “Is that why you’ve been so adamant on not letting me touch you?”

A tentative nod of your head had Dino chuckling. “Now it all makes sense. Don’t worry baby, I’ll make you feel a thousand times better…only if you want to, though.”

“Yes, please,” your words came out hushed and breathy and shaky, allowing Dino to guide you you backwards onto the grass and gently push you backwards while he hovered above you.

Dino slid his hands down your body, seemingly pleased at the way you shivered when his fingers traced over your underwear, pushing up the button of your dress to see how drenched they were.

“Oh, baby,” Dino sucked in a sharp breath, pulling them to the side and biting his lip once he had seen how wet you actually were. “Is this all because of me?”

You nodded, covering your mouth to keep any noise from escaping. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you.” You mumbled from behind your hand, making sure your voice was loud enough for him to hear you clearly.

He ran two of his fingers up and down your slit before pushing one of them inside of you, pressing the pad of his thumb against your clit, all the while you squirmed beneath him, working hard to trap the moans that threatened to spill out of your lips.

“Baby, don’t be so nervous,” he said, adding a second finger inside of you and curling them just enough so that you finally let your hands fall away from your mouth and let your moans out. “That’s it, keep moaning like that for me. Fuck, you sound so pretty.”

“Dino…f-fuck. Don’t stop…” You ground your hips up into his hand, your mind growing foggy with pleasure as Dino increased the speed of his fingers. You were embarrassed at how easily his fingers slid in and out of you from how wet you continued to get.

Dino lowered his head, bringing his lips to your neck, kissing and sucking at any exposed skin he could find. He thrived at the way your moans grew louder and more urgent, switching the position of his fingers, opting for a scissoring motion and pressing his lips together to keep in a moan of his own. “Your thighs are starting to shake, love. Gonna cum for me?”

You nodded weakly, arching your back when you felt Dino add a third finger inside of you. Your skin felt hot and sticky and sweaty all over, and the only thing you could say when you felt your orgasm hit you like an earthquake was “Dino, Dino, Dino,” over and over again.

“That’s my girl,” Dino mumbled, fingering you through your high, pulling them out of you once you wrapped a hand around his wrist. You watched with wide eyes as he brought them to his lips, sucking them clean and moaning at the taste of you. “You taste so sweet, baby.”

“Don’t say thatttttt.” You whined, pushing him down onto the grass while you sat yourself upright. Wasting no time, you immediately brought one of your hands to his crotch, palming over the bulge that had been growing inside of his pants. “Ooh, what’s this? Is this all because of me?” You mimicked the words he had said to you earlier, grinning when he nodded and pushed his hips up into your hand.

“Baby, come on, you’re really gonna tease me right now?” Dino asked, unable to stop his hips from moving. As much as you wanted to tease him, there would be plenty of opportunities to do that another time. Right now, you wanted so badly to taste him, to feel him in your mouth and hear him moan for you like you had done for him.

You tugged down his pants and underwear, just enough so that his cock could spring free, and you drooled at the sight, noticing the bead of pre cum that had collected at his tip, and now it was time for Dino to be the embarrassed one.

“So…big.” You mumbled, wrapping your hand around him and giving him a few slow pumps, squeezing him once to see what his reaction would be. A hoarse groan served as your answer. “Can I…use my mouth on you?”

“Of course you can baby,” Dino nodded all too eagerly, watching with rapt attention as you brought your lips closer and closer to his cock. You have his tip a few kitten licks, the slightly salty taste spreading onto your taste buds. To be honest, you really didn’t know how to do this, the request coming from a carnal place inside of you. You were stalking for time so you could recall the words in a book you once read that had a scene similar to this moment in it. Once you had the faintest idea of how to proceed, you wrapped your lips firmly around his cock, feeling him rest his hands on the top of your head for stability.

Feeling you swirl your tongue around him, flicking your tongue across the slit as your head bobbed up and down had Dino absolutely reeling beneath you. He gripped your hair, shoving it all the way down to the base as he thrust his hips up into your mouth, gagging as a few tears starting to form in your eyes. “S-Sorry baby, shit, I can’t help myself…you’re s-so good with this cute little mouth of y-yours, fuck. Gonna fuckin’ cum already.”

You hummed in acknowledgment, letting Dino continue to fuck your mouth. He had pulled you back slightly when he registered your gagging, allowing you to wrap your hands around what didn’t fit in your mouth. You stroked him as fast as he tugged your head up and down, feeling your saliva trickle down your lips, chin, and all the way down Dino’s cock. When his hips stilled, you thought for a slight second that something was wrong, but the next second you felt his cum shoot into your mouth and down your throat, and he released his grip on your hair as he laid back and panted.

Recalling the words in the book once again, you swallowed—unfortunately you had done so a bit too fast, and you coughed and patted your chest to keep yourself from choking. The last thing you wanted to do right now was die in front of Dino after you had just sucked him off after he had just fingered you. Dino helped you by patting your back. Once your breathing had gone back to normal, he smiled at you, and you returned the gesture.

“Wow, you were right,” You mumbled. “I do feel a thousand times better.”

“Does this mean we can ban the no touching rule?”

You narrowed your eyes at him with a grin, giving him a pinch on his thigh. Dino hissed in pain, scrambling to pull up his underwear and pants. “Consider that a yes.”

The next few weeks were nothing short of amazing. There was a minuscule, growing spark between you and Dino now, and it resided inside of your heart, and you felt no desire to let it die out or even to extinguish it.

Dino took you on several dates, yes, dates, in this time frame, always with an added personal touch. He brought you to a local Kasmiran bakery and then let you ride his thigh on the carriage ride home. He took you to a winery in Vaelia then ate you out behind the building. He asked you to tag along while he went sightseeing in Sokoto and had you cockwarm him in the carriage the whole time. With each of these, the spark in your heart continued to grow. 

At this rate, it was only a jagged of time before it grew to become a fire.

You were up early again this morning, having thought of the most wonderful idea in bed the night before. Today, you were going to Kasmira all on your own to surprise Dino. Sure, yes, you had been to Kasmira before, but never had you been to the castle. You would even bring him some tarts made from the tangerines you had picked in the Sokotoan tangerine fields on Tuesday with Dino before he asked you to sit on his face. That was a good day.

Ryujin couldn’t be happier for you, though at some times during this new stage in the relationship between you and Dino she felt like she couldn’t keep up with the new you. Though recently, you had been giving her more days to herself as you insisted on doing all the work for yourself.

You were getting ready to go, opening the door of your room, shocked to see Chaeryeong already standing there, seemingly spacing out again with a round golden container in her hands.

“Um…Chaeryeong?” You mumbled, waving a hand in front of her face. That seemed enough to snap her out of it, and she focused her gaze on you with a smile.

“Ah, sorry Your Highness! Here are the tarts, freshly baked just for you. Lia was going to deliver them, but then she remembered she had something to do with Ryujin at the last minute.”

You took the container from her and smiled. “Thank you. Oh, and tell the cooks I said thank you as well.” Chaeryeong nodded, bowing to you before excusing herself. You shut your door behind you, making your way out of the castle and to a carriage as fast as you could. When the driver asked where to, you happily chirped out “Kasmira, please,” and asked him to get you there as quick as he could. For all fifty minutes, you couldn’t sit still for longer than a few seconds. You just couldn’t wait to see Dino again, to hold him close and feed him your tarts. He’d probably ask if you made them, and even though you hadn’t, he’d still say they were the best things he’d ever tasted second to you. Then you’d get flustered, hit him, and let him bury himself between your thighs for as long as he wanted.

Long story short, you really wanted to see Dino. Really badly.

Upon your arrival to the Kasmiran castle, you rushed out of the carriage and into the castle, asking around until you found out that Dino was in the Kasmiran royal gardens. Thanking them, you hurried your way there, smiling when you took notice of his signature blonde hair. You were just about to call his name when he laughed, leaning his head back, and you saw a woman sitting beside him, looking at him with a smile on her face.

You felt your mouth go dry as it fell open in disbelief.

Princess Miyoung, the Princess of Hisia, was here in Kasmira. She was sitting next to Dino. Laughing with him. Touching his arm. You let out a shaky breath, a tightening feeling growing in your chest. What was she doing here? Why was she with him? What had she said to make him laugh like that? Fuck, you couldn’t take this. You had to get out of here. You turned around, having your third shock of the day to see Dino’s parents standing in the hallway behind you.

“Oh! Princess [Y/n],” His mother said, obviously surprised to see you standing there. “I wasn’t aware you were here. Is there something you need, honey?”

You shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut with your head to the ground. There was no way you were making a scene, not in front of Dino’s parents. “N-No, uh…I just came to drop off these…tarts. For Dino.” You mumbled, pushing the container into the hands of the King.

“Well, what a lovely sentiment! We’ll be sure to give these to him then dear. I’m sure he’ll be happy to—”

“[Y/n]?” Dino’s smooth voice filled your ears and you squeezed your eyes shut tighter. You didn’t turn to face him, you couldn’t, not if when you opened them you would see Miyoung standing there beside him, her presence alone enough to taunt you. “[Y/n], what wrong?”

“I have to go.” You said, scurrying out of the castle and back to the carriage. Dino chased after you, managing to catch up just before the carriage could start moving.

“What’s the matter? You just got here and now you’re leaving? Stay.” He reached through the open window to hold your hand, but you pulled it away and glared at him.

“Why? You shouldn’t need me when you have Miyoung here to entertain you in my place.” You retorted. Dino’s face fell, and you could only beat yourself up mentally for letting yourself get roped in by him. Of course he didn’t care about you. There was no way he could ever feel the same way about you as you did about him. You were fooling yourself for even thinking that for a second, Dino’s feelings were the same as yours.

“[Y/n], it isn’t like that, please just let me explain—”

You brought your hand up, placing it in front of his face to signal him to stop talking. “Don’t bother, Your Highness.”

For the second time, Dino watched you disappear from him, to let you slip through his hands like grains of sand, and stand to the side powerless as you faded away.

This cycle seemed impossible to break.

For the umpteenth time, here you were, locked away in your room, refusing to see Dino no matter how many times he had begged. You cried every day, drowning your sorrows in bottles upon bottles of wine, dragging yourself to the window to sob to the stars once night had come. You kept the door lock, adamant on not letting anyone see you in such a state. Unfortunately, Ryujin had picked the lock of your bedroom door with a handmade lock pick she got from Yeji because you “needed to eat” so you wouldn’t die before the wedding.

To hell with that wedding, and to hell with the groom.

You sat up in bed, your hands still gripping the nearly empty wine bottle and your cheeks still stained with last nights tears. You brought the bottle to your lips, finishing it off and tossing it aside into the bed. With heavy feet, you dragged yourself to the vanity in the corner of the room, sitting down to take in your reflection.

What have I become, you asked yourself. Who am I? Sighing, you smoothed out the wrinkles in your clothes and tried to make your hair look less unkempt. You wished Yuna was here, she was the hair expert. Ryujin always preferred to keep it simple whenever she did your hair, but she had admitted to you that she learned everything she knew from the younger girl.

A knock at the door had you rolling your eyes.

“Go away, Ryujin. I don’t want breakfast.”

The door opened slightly, and you turned around with a scowl on your face. But then your face changed—softened. Ryujin wasn’t at the door.

“Sorry, I’m not Ryujin.” Dino mumbled, cautiously entering your room before shutting it behind him. “Can we…talk? I haven’t seen you in weeks, [Y/n]. I’m really worried.”

His tone of voice was so gentle and sincere you almost forgot why you were mad at him. Almost. The reason why came flooding back to your brain instantly, and you turned away from him.

“I have nothing to say to you.” You said to him, crossing your arms over your chest.

“[Y/n], please don’t be like that. You left before I had the chance to explain back at the castle.”

“Explain what?” You stood up, whipping around to face him. “Explain what you were doing with the Princess of Hisia? You know what they did to us.” Your last sentence came out quieter—sadder.

“Who is ‘us’?”

“Me! My family! The rest of Sokoto! That is who ‘us’ is, Dino!”

“Why are you grouping yourself with them?” As hard as Dino tried to understand you, in this moment he just…couldn’t. “The war wasn’t your fault, and there was nothing you could’ve done to change what had already happened.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that Hisia stabbed us in the back. And there you were, with the Princess of the first nation that decided to betray us.” You pointed your finger at him. “You’re a traitor.”

“I’m sorry that I have friends, [Y/n], and you don’t. But when your kingdom decides to stay out of unnecessary political affairs that you aren’t a part of, you get keep your allies. I’m sorry if that’s something you or your parents don’t realize because you’re so insistent on being cold and unfeeling, but that’s not what we do in Kasmira.”

Everything he said hurt more because not one part of it was false. But you couldn’t back down now. You had to do something to regain control over the argument.

Even if it meant sending him away.

“Get out.”

Dino raked his hands through his hair, and you could tell that his patience with you was running thin. “No, [Y/n]. I’m not leaving you while you’re like this.”

You glared at him. “I said get out! I don’t ever want to see you again! Go marry somebody else!”

As soon as the words came out of your mouth, the look on Dino’s face was enough to make you regret saying them. You had never seen him go from looking so shocked and heartbroken before, not even the slightest bit. But now…now you had. At it was all because of you.

“Why would I want to marry someone else?”

Silence. Long, heavy, painful silence. Neither one of you looked away from the other or spoke, until finally, after what felt like forever, you found an answer.

“Because I know someone out there is a better match for you than I am.”

“What? [Y/n], what are you talking about? That’s not what I want at all.”

“You…you don’t mean that.” You couldn’t even look at him right now, not if you wanted to believe what you were saying no matter how untrue it was.

“I do, [Y/n]. I mean it. I’ve wanted to marry you since the first time I saw you. Even if you kept running from me. Even if you pushed me away. Even if I could only see you on your time.” Nothing could prepare you for the words he said next. “Because I love you, [Y/n].”

You stiffened, finally finding the strength to raise your head to look at him “What did you say?”

“I said I love you.” He repeated. “Should I say it again, baby?”

“N-No, you can’t…” You whimpered, leaning into Dino’s chest as you felt tears brimming at your waterline. “Please take it back…”

“Take it back? No, why would I ever do that? I really mean it. I’d never say I love you and not mean it, [Y/n].”

“Why do you love me? What is there to love, Dino?”

Dino frowned, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you tightly.

“You have the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen. Every time you laugh, I laugh, because it’s so infectious. You’re such a good friend to Ryujin. When you eat something you like, you can’t stop until you’ve finished it all. You don’t make the best jokes ever, but you’re learning.” He said, laughing a little once he had finished. “And those are just my favorite things about you.”

You wrapped your arms around Dino, running your hands up and down his back, forcing yourself to believe that yes, this was reality. He was here, he was real, and he loved you. “I’m sorry.” You mumbled, the sound of your voice quiet.

“What was that?”

“I said I’m sorry.” You pulled back slightly so that he could hear your voice clearly. “I shouldn’t have ignored you, or run from you, or any of it. I…” Deep breath, you could do it. “I love you too.”

“Is all that true, baby?” You nodded, and Dino immediately pulled you back to his chest, hugging you even tighter. “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that.”

“You mean it?” You asked, wanting to make sure that he was serious. “Not just ‘cause we’re supposed to get married, right?”

His laughter was music to your ears. “Of course not, baby. I love you either way.”

You smiled, tilting your head up so Dino could wipe away your stray tears.

Dino nodded, pulling you back again so he could look you in the eyes. “Yeah, I love you, baby.” His eyes flickered down to your lips before coming back to your eyes. “Can I kiss you?”

A nod of your head is all it takes before he’s pressing his lips to yours. You had never been kissed by anyone before, but the way Dino kissed you was enough to make you glad that this was the first kiss you had ever gotten. The kiss was slow and tender, and you unconsciously chased his lips when he attempted to pull away, wrapping your arms around his neck to keep him in place. Dino smiled against your lips, the two of you only pulling away once the need for air went from mild to severe.

“Again?” You asked, and Dino immediately pulled you in again. The kiss was different this time, it was faster and sloppier, the initial tenderness of the first being replaced by a newfound desperation now that you two knew that what you were feeling was the same. Dino loved you, and you loved Dino.

You didn’t fight it when Dino started to guide you backwards, your body hitting the bed with a bounce. Dino slipped his hands under your thighs, flipping up the bottom of your silk nightgown and pulling down your underwear and tossing it onto the floor. He cupped your cunt with one hand, the palm of his hand pressed flat against your clit.

“Dino, please…”

“Please what, baby? Don’t you want me to play with this cute little pussy like always?” He asked, feeling the way your arousal stuck to his hand as he circles your entrance with one of his fingers. You shook your head, holding onto his wrist with your hand.

“Just want you to fuck me.”

Dino groaned, resting his hands on your hips and pushing your nightgown up even further. “Yeah? You sure, baby?”

You nodded, your skin flushed with heat. “Mhm, want your cock, Dino.”

God, just when he thought you couldn’t get any more beautiful, and that he couldn’t get any harder, you just continued to surprise him.

“Who am I to deny the Princess?” He smirked, making quick work of removing his clothes. While he was doing that, you pulled off your nightgown and threw it and your bra aside, both of them landing somewhere on the floor with the rest of your clothes. Dino laid you back down on the bed, climbing on top of you while he ran his hands all over your body, grinning at the way you moaned and trembled when he teased your nipples.

“Dino, please,” You whined, and he chuckled softly.

“Okay, okay, sorry. I just can’t help myself,” He mumbled, reaching down to pump his cock a few times before lining it up at your entrance. “Ready, baby?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Ready.”

Dino eased into your cunt slowly, giving you the chance to adjust to him, all the while he swallowed your whimpers and whines by kissing you. When he had pushed himself all the way inside, he tore his lips away from yours to bite down on your shoulder, resisting the urge to start moving his hips already. The two of you stayed like that for a little while before you  told him it was alright to start moving.

“So perfect, so pretty,” Dino mumbled, holding one of his hands holding onto your hip while the other had both of your wrists pinned above your head. He thrusted into you slowly, pulling himself out almost all the way before slamming back inside of you. “I can’t believe I get to have you like this, baby, fuck.”

“M-me too.” You shuddered, your body slowly traveling further up the bed each time he thrusted into you. “Love it, love you, love your cock, shit…”

“Love you too baby, so much,” He whispered, speeding up the speed of his thrusts, a quiet grunt coming out of his mouth when he felt your walls clenching around him. “Fuck…gonna cum for me already baby? Hm?”

Your response was lost in a series of strangled noises of pleasure as you felt your orgasm creeping up on you. Dino pulled the hand pinning your wrists away and brought it down to the point where your bodies were connected, rubbing your clit in quick circles. You cried out, rolling your hips against him, your eyes rolling back into your head as you came undone beneath him.

“That’s it baby, I’ve got you,” He groaned, speeding up even more as he continued to thrust through your high. Once you had caught your breath, his hips jerked forward one last time before you felt his hit cum filling you up. You tried to pull him closer, figuring that he was done, but Dino flipped you over and ran the head of his cock along your slit, making you whine from the overstimulation.

“Just one more, baby. I cant get enough of this sweet little pussy,” He pushed in without warning, and you screamed, shocked at yourself for just how loud you were being.

“Ngh, Dino, c-can’t take it,” You whined, your head falling down onto the pillows and your mouth hanging open as you surrendered yourself to the pleasure.

“Shh, I know you can take it baby,” Dino whispered, pulling you up so your back was flush against his chest, bringing his head to the crook of your neck, taking a long deep inhale and sighing with content. “You smell so fucking good.”

You can feel his pounding in his chest against your back, your head falling backwards as you felt your second orgasm approaching. “G-Gonna cum again…” Dino couldn’t even brace himself before your walls clamped down against his cock, whispering curses against your skin, and felt his own release envelop him for the second time today too.

You fell forward onto the bed, your eyes closed as you steadied your breathing once again. Dino collapsed beside you, draping an arm over your waist and pulling you close. You turned your head over your shoulder to look at him and smiled.

“That was amazing.”

“Not as amazing as you, baby,” He murmured, stroking your hair with his hand. “I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“I love you most.”

You gripped Ryujin’s shoulders, much to her pain, because she was trying desperately to pry them away.

“[Y/n], your nails are digging into my skin,” She groaned, and only then did you pull your hands away.

“Sorry, Ryujin.” You ran your down the front of your dress, taking deep breaths to steady your nerves. “I just don’t know if I’m ready for this.”

“Of course you are,” Yeji shook her head with a smile on her face. “You look beautiful, [Y/n]. You just go out there, walk down the aisle, and tell Dino those two words that will join you forever.”

“Cum inside?” Ryujin asked, earning her a smack from Lia.

“No, I do.” Lia sighed, then turned to look at you. “I’m so glad you chose us to be your bridesmaids.”

“Yeah!” Yuna agreed, then shuffled around Chaeryeong and Yeji so she was next to you. “By the way, when you throw the bouquet, is there any chance you can sum it towards me?”

“She won’t see us, Yuna. There’s no way she’ll know who she’s throwing at.” Chaeryeong said with a quiet sigh. “I’m really so happy for you, [Y/n]. Dino is the perfect match for you.”

Yeah, if you heard her say that a few months ago, you would not have believed her. You might have even questioned why she would say such a thing. But after everything you and Dino have been through, you could finally agree.

Your father approached you and the girls, a smile on his face as he looked at you. “Oh honey, you look so beautiful. I never thought this day would come.” This was the first time you had seen your dad smile in years.

“What a gorgeous bride. Oh dear, I’m so happy for you,” Your mother cried, holding your head in your hands and pressing a kiss to your forehead. You couldn’t help but smile seeing your parents so happy, and all because of you.

“Thank you Mother, thank you Father.”

Yuna gasped, and everyone turned to look at her. “It’s starting!”

Your father looked at you, nodding. “Alright honey. Are you ready?”

You let out the breath you had been keeping in for a while. “Ready as I’ll ever be.” He pulled your veil over your head, intertwining his arm with yours. The two of you walked down the aisle, and you could hear the gasps and murmurs of everyone in the audience as you walked past them, all eyes on you in that present moment, especially Dino’s

Once you felt your father’s arm leave yours, you turned yourself to the right, faintly making out Dino’s face behind your veil. He reached forward, flipping the veil behind your head, his eyes softening when he got a look at your face.

“You look so gorgeous,” he whispered, and you smiled even brighter.

“And you look so handsome,” you whispered back, Dino trying to bite back the smile that continued to grow on his face.

The ceremony was beautiful, a bit longer than you had thought it would be, but it was fine with you, because Dino looked really good in that tuxedo.

“Prince Dino, do you take Princess [Y/n] to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for to love and to cherish; from this day forward?”

Dino’s hands gripped yours tighter as he nodded, staring deeply into your eyes. “I do.”

“And do you, Princess [Y/n], take Dino to be your lawfully wedded husband, in good times and bad, in joy as well as sorry, till death do you part?”

You nodded, looking back at Dino with just as much love in your eyes as he was doing with you. “I do.”

“Then by the power vested in me, I nor pronounce you, husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”

The crowd before you all cheered as Dino cupped your head in his hands and pulled you forward for a kiss. This kiss felt different from the way he had kissed you before, again. This one was passionate, loving, now the two of you were complete. It was perfect.

Later on, after much cake a little drinking, and watching Lia and Yuna fight over the bouquet after you threw it between both of them, you and Dino were still waltzing on the dance floor in the middle of the rest of the guests, holding each other impossibly close, that longing love-struck look still in both of your eyes.

“I can’t believe I get to call you my wife, now,” Dino mumbled, spinning you around. You hummed, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “My perfect, pretty, sweet wife.”

“Oh stop it,” You laughed. “Sweet is a bit of a stretch, isn’t it?”

“Not at all, baby. I think you’re very sweet.” He said, then pulled you closer. “In more ways than one. Speaking of which, I can’t wait to have you all to myself tonight.”

“Again?” You asked, but you still anticipated what he would have in store for you. “You’re insatiable.”

“Well now that you’re all mine, how am I supposed to help myself?”

You just smiled and shook your head. He should be so lucky that he loved you. But then again, maybe he didn’t need to be. Not when you loved him back just as much. Forever and always, till death do you part.

#seventeen #svt #seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #svt smut #svt x reader #lee chan #svt lee chan #svt dino #seventeen dino #dino smut #lee chan smut #lee chan fluff #lee chan angst #dino fluff #dino angst #svt fluff #seventeen imagines

[genshin-side-piece]

I have a yandere Neuvillette concept that has been haunting me, especially in regard to how you write him cause I really loved your series on him :3c

So imagine a Neuvillette after he kidnapped darling. He understands why you're upset, and though he will not let you go he does feel a little guilty about keeping you with him. He justifies it by telling himself (and you) that it is for your own safety and protection.

BUUUUUUT imagine Neuvillette judging a trial where the defendant did the EXACT same thing. They kidnapped someone and help them against their will for several months. The defendant implores to him and the audience that they did it to protect the victim, they did it for love.

I think Neuvillette has overseen many trials where the defendant broke the law but still had a sympathetic reason to do so - like a person who killed in self defense or someone who stole to survive. Unfortunately, I don't think there is any canon material that explores this (as far as I know - hopefully I am wrong), but I think a non-yandere Neuvillette would not let his judgement be completely clouded by the defendant's motives. They still broke the law so off to Meropide they go, but he knows when to be lenient and understanding about it.

Back to yandere Neuvillette, this trial puts him between a rock and a hard place. This defendant did the exact same thing Neuvillette did to you, he understands their motives very well. If this is a post-Archon quest Fontaine then he has complete control over the defendant's fate. Should he judge this defendant fairly, as he had with millions of ever? If he sends the defendant to Meropide, then doesn't this mean Neuvillette is guilty in the eyes of the law as well? Deep down, does he secretly think he is above the law? That his darling's well being is more important than any legislation?

But if he declares the defendant not guilty then what will this mean for the future of Fontaine? Other criminals may see this and realize that doing things for "love" is a morally sound motive to the fair Iudex. Crime, especially kidnapping related ones, might increase! The people would question why the Chief Justice declared someone not guilty when they CLEARLY committed a heinous crime. Victims of similar crimes in Fontaine might not see Neuvillette has a pillar of justice, but of someone who undermines it (a harsh realization that you had to go through when he kidnapped you).

I imagine that whatever Neuvillette's decision is, he's a little shaken up after the trial. He goes home and seeks your (unwilling) comfort, pulling you into his arms for an embrace, even if you protest and try to slip away. He treats you a little differently afterwards; maybe he relaxes on the rules and regulations he enforced on you and gives you a bit more freedom, or maybe he doubles down on his decision to keep you and gets more frustrated when you fight back.

This made me so happy! TY for sending! 😊 I love to talk about this kind of stuff. I wish I got to do it more. I'm placing this under a cut, with warnings just to be safe.

Warnings: Yandere Content, Implied Kidnapping, Implied Captivity, my bad writing, anything else I missed, 18+, Minors DNI

Neuvillette's grey area. It's my favorite thing about him.

Here's what makes him fun. He knows how to work the law(s) to his advantage. We see that with the traveler in 4.1. Neuvillette "invents" charges for the traveler to be sent to Meropide. He does so by getting them to commit a petty crime in the form of eating Furina's discarded cake. The traveler is unaware of said crime until they're sent to the actual fortress. Only then do they realize that Neuvillette pulled a harmless fast one on them. Later, we see him do it again when he goes behind Furina's back for the sake of the nation. I'm sure he felt horrible about it and tried to apologize afterwards, but he still went through with it because there was a greater good that needed to be fulfilled.

Same kind of principle applies here. Your safety is everything to him. Up until he finds you, he believes you to be in mortal danger. I imagine the moment of you just walking out all fine was a bit anticlimactic for him, but he would definitely take that over the alternative.

Through the power of his office, Neuvillette tricks the reader into coming with him vs taking them by force. The confinement portion gets a little stickier in terms of the laws. Neuvillette's reasons for taking you are sound. Those same reasons carry through to him keeping you. He was worried. He was concerned. As one of the leaders of Fontaine, he's merely performing his duty in protecting you. He can't guarantee your safety from the perceived threat if you go home. No, it's better if you stay with him until the threat passes, which could be never btw. Just because the serial k*ller has been caught, doesn't mean there aren't others who would seek to do you harm. The mafia/cartels or even the fatui are still lurking. All it would take is one report that lists potential targets with a description that vaguely matches yours and he's set with his excuse.

Just as an aside, in my mind, Neuvillette carries some built in immunity. He has a sterling reputation. It’s not fully mentioned in the story, but even if he were accused of a crime, who would believe that person? He’s the Chief Justice of Fontaine. Someone who is purposefully written above reproach in the eyes of the population. He’s not infallible, but I feel like it would take a ton of convincing for anyone to believe Neuvillette had broken the law. Then there’s the matter of who judges him? Neuvillette is the judge. Who judges the judge in a nation with no archon?

In terms of the poor soul that has found their way before him, Neuvillette would 100% find that individual guilty regardless of his actions. Laws are laws and Neuvillette's main purpose in the story is uphold those laws. Where it gets iffy is how that person is sentenced. What is the appropriate level of justice for the crime? One could argue that the reader has already extracted a specific level of justice from Neuvillette based on how they treat him. How he feels about the trial afterwards is an interesting debate. Where Neuvillette and you start vs where you end in the series are two very different places. Since we’re talking specifically about the post-archon quest relationship between the two, I’m not sure how shaken he would be. The relationship is in a very different place from where the first story picks up. I can see him visiting his past feelings on the subject and briefly questioning specific things, but in the end it doesn’t matter to him based on how the series ends.  

Still, for the purpose of this though, I can see him going home and bringing you close. How willing you want to be is up to you. 😊

#genshin impact #genshin #genshinimpact #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere neuvillette x reader #yandere neuvillette #neuvillette #chief justice neuvillette #neuvillette x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin impact fanfic #anonymous asks #anonymous

[alcestas-sloboda]

Act of Declaration of Independence of Ukraine

In view of the mortal danger surrounding Ukraine in connection with the state coup in the USSR on August 19, 1991,

- Continuing the thousand-year tradition of state development in Ukraine,

- Proceeding from the right of a nation to self-determination in accordance with the Charter of the United Nations and other international legal documents, and

- Implementing the Declaration of State Sovereignty of Ukraine,

the Verkhovna Rada of the Ukrainian Soviet Socialist Republic solemnly declares

the Independence of Ukraine and the creation of an independent Ukrainian state – UKRAINE.

The territory of Ukraine is indivisible and inviolable.

From this day forward, only the Constitution and laws of Ukraine are valid on the territory of Ukraine.

This act becomes effective at the moment of its approval.

— Verkhovna Rada of Ukraine, August 24, 1991

#independence day #ukraine

[probablyasocialecologist]

As a Jew, I have felt completely alienated by the community that purports to represent me. In my earliest childhood memories, I recall  family members, Hebrew School teachers, and religious leaders telling me about the many promises of the state of Israel: a safe home for all Jews, a place – I was told – where we made the desert bloom. From as early as I can remember, I was taught by my family members and Hebrew School teachers that Jews need Israel because of the devastating losses during the Holocaust and enduring antisemitism. I went to Hebrew School three days a week, and remember feeling almost-constantly panicked about the potential for another Holocaust. The message was painfully clear: everyone hates Jews, and that’s why we need Israel. There was so much about Jewish history and culture I never learned in Hebrew School: our working-class roots and deep commitment to the labor and socialist movements both in Eastern Europe and in the U.S.; Sephardic and Mizrahi culture and customs; the history of Yiddish; even the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising. And of course, left out of most American Jewish education are the violent origins of the Jewish state: Israel’s dispossession and mass slaughter of Palestinians in 1948. The land on which Israel was built was not a barren desert made fertile by Jewish refugees and immigrants, but the Palestinians’ homeland, inhabited for millennia. When I began to learn the truth – that Israel violently expelled almost 1 million Palestinians to create the state of Israel – I felt completely shocked, and deeply betrayed by the adults whom I had trusted. It seemed – and I now know with certainty that it is – antithetical to Jewish values. Since I first learned about the Nakba, I’ve regularly felt alone in my religious community. There’s an assumption – from both the Jewish community and society at-large – that because we are Jews, we are also Zionists. Yet, so much of my political compass – including my commitment to anti-Zionism, actually comes from what I’ve learned from being a Jew. The same Hebrew school teachers who instructed me to love Israel also taught me Jewish songs like Olam Chesed Yibaneh (we will build this world with love) and Lo Yisa Goy (nation shall not lift up sword against nation). Israel’s occupation of Palestine and its subjugation of Palestians contradicts these Jewish tenets, yet in a majority of American Jewish communities, those of us who oppose Israeli colonialism are treated as traitors. It’s been confusing to feel both deeply connected to Judaism and Jewish values, and to also be told repeatedly by Jews and Zionists that I’m a self-hating Jew. It often makes me feel like I have no safe religious home. The only times I’ve felt like I’m free to practice my religion as an anti-Zionist, and to proudly declare that I’m an anti-Zionist because I’m Jewish, are when I’ve taken action with Jewish Voice for Peace, an anti-Zionist, Jewish organization that stands in solidarity with Palestinians. 

#israel #palestine #zionism #antizionism #settler colonialism