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pawnshopbleus · 10 months

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The Songbird

Young!Coriolanus Snow x Fem!Plinth!Reader

Summary - Lucy Gray Baird was the talk of this year's Hunger Games. She had the beauty and the voice to charm her way through the games, but what happens when rumors spark up around the Capitol that her mentor and your boyfriend, Coriolanus Snow, have shared a kiss?

Warnings - Mild angst, Speculations of cheating, Smut (Coriolanus Snow eats you out), Bad communication, it gets sort of better at the ends so just trust me, Very mild Lucy Grey slander (Rachel Zegler they could never make me hate you.), let’s pretend that Snow has the capacity to love, Not beta read.

Being a Plinth meant two things: people hated you because you paid your way to the top, and people loved you because you had enough money to do it. Getting used to life in the capital was hard, but it got easier when you had a boyfriend who cared for you. Your brother, Sejanus, disapproved of his best friend dating his twin sister, but the two of you could care less.

You met Coriolanus at the Academy. You were charmed by his white hair and the way he carried himself. He also wasn’t as stuck up and snobby as your other classmates. He was easy to talk to and even easier on the eyes. He must have noticed the way you were entranced by him when he asked you out. After many dates and your father's approval, he asked you to be his girlfriend.

Now, you were sitting in the lunch room, picking at the sandwich that was in front of you. It was no secret that Coriolanus’s tribute was the favorite of the capitol. She was beautiful and swept everyone off of their feet with that sweet voice of hers. Your tribute on the other hand was nothing more than a throwaway tribute from District Nine. To be frank, he was short and skinny. There was nothing much you could do for him. Maybe he could be good at hiding, but he wouldn’t last long in the arena.

“Are you going to eat?” Coriolanus asked as he eyed your sandwich. “You need to eat, dove.”

“I’m not hungry,” you grumbled as you took a sip of your water.

“Can I have it then?”

You nod your head and hand him the sandwich. You watched as he put it in a napkin and placed it in his coat pocket.

You tilted your head in confusion. Was he saving that for later? “Coryo, if you, Grandma'am, and Tigris need something to eat, you can come over. You know my home is always open to you and your family.”

He smirked and shook his head. “No, I’m saving it for Lucy Gray.”

“Oh.” That was all you could say. Of course, he was saving that for his Lucy Gray. Him feeding his tribute would fuel the rumors that Coriolanus Snow and Lucy Gray Baird were developing a budding relationship. People were already invested in them after his stunt at the Capitol Zoo.

You grabbed your tray from the table and left without saying another word. You couldn’t find it in you to confront him about what people were saying. Maybe you were being a bad girlfriend, but your jealousy got the best of you. As the sun set and the moon rose, you lie in your room, hoping that Lucy Gray wouldn’t accept the sandwich. You wanted her to throw it back at him, scaring him so much that he would never visit her again. But this isn’t about what you want. This is about Coriolanus and his mission to get his tribute to win.

The next morning, you couldn’t eat. You were physically and mentally sick with jealousy. You were meant to meet with your tribute to discuss a game strategy. In your peripheral, you could see Coriolanus with Lucy Gray. He was so alert when he talked with her. He once talked to you like that, but after the first time he saw Lucy Gray on the screen, he’s become distant. He was always talking about her, visiting her, thinking about her. Part of you wanted her to die in the arena, but your wishes fell upon deaf ears.

For the first time, you were faced to face with your tribute. He was even skinnier in person. Your heart burned for him. You were so lucky that your parents got you out of the District when they could or else that could have been you on the other side of the table.

“Okay, Finn, I’m going to be honest, you aren’t the person people root for, but I can make sure that you live as long as possible.” What you said was harsh, but true. You could get your father and his friends to sponsor him. With enough sponsors, he could get food, water, and medicine. That’s as good as it’s going to get.

“We all know that Lucy Grey’s going to win. Her mentor has been visiting her every night. He brought her half of a sandwich last night. I saw them by the gates. I could see them talking. They were close, real close. I could have sworn I saw them kiss, but-” The rest of Finn’s sentence was drowned out by the sound of static ringing through your ears.

— — — —

Your knuckles rapped against the door of the Snow residence. It was later in the day, your tribute was thankful that you somewhat believed in him, but both of you knew that he wasn’t going to make it out alive. If anyone killed the Capitols songbird they would surely live a life of shame.

Tigris opened the door and smiled when she saw you standing there, but her smile faded as she saw the tears streaming down your face. She opened her arms and trapped you in them, letting your tears stain her dress. “What’s wrong?” she asked. Her voice was soft and almost whisper quiet. She was a gentle soul and you trusted her with your darkest secrets.

“My tribute said that Coriolanus and Lucy Gray kissed,” you said through tears.

Tigris gasped and looked at you in the eyes, searching for something to say. “I’m-I don’t know what to say. That doesn’t sound like Coryo. He loves you too much to do that.”

“Really? Lately Lucy Grey is all he can talk about. It’s like she’s his girlfriend and not me.” “Because he wants to win the prize money. We need to pay rent and we don’t have enough.” Tigris said as she wiped away your tears.

“It doesn’t help that the capitol likes them together. He might as well date her instead of me. I mean, she’s pretty and she can sing like none other. I just-” You were interrupted by the sound of the front door opening and closing. In less than twenty seconds Coriolanus was at your side.

His hands find their place on your shoulders as he pulls you away from Tigris’s grasp. His eyebrows are furrowed in confusion. “What’s wrong, dove? Did someone hurt you?”

You wipe your nose with your sleeve. Your mother would kill you if she found out you did something so unclassy in front of a man, but right now you could care less about class. Your eyes looked around everywhere, trying not to make eye contact with his. You knew that you would cry again if you looked into his eyes. The eyes that got you hooked on him in the first place. The eyes that Lucy Grey saw flutter close before they kissed.

Your shoulders wiggled out of his grasp. His hands fell to his sides and you could have sworn you saw his hands ball up in fists, stopping themselves from coming in contact with your soft skin.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and said, “My tribute, Finn. He said that you and Lucy Gray kissed last night at the zoo.” It came out more as a whisper. You hated how pathetic you sounded right at that moment.

You could see Coriolanus search for the memories of what happened last night. He then sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “We didn’t kiss,” he began, “but I can see why the other tributes would think that. We were close, but it was only because I wanted to tell her more game strategies and I didn’t want the other tributes to hear.”

You felt stupid. You felt really stupid to assume that your boyfriend of two years would cheat on you. “But I-I heard people in the shop the other day say that they wanted you and Lucy Gray to get together. They said that the two of you had so much chemistry.”

“First of all, that’s illegal, and second of all, I love you. And only you.” His hand tilted your chin up and wiped the tears that were still falling on your face. Tigris had retired to her room a long time ago.

Coriolanus leads you to his room. The window that overlooked the Capitol was open, letting in the cold. “Let me show you how much I love you,” he whispered, inches away from your lips.

“Yes,” was the only thing you managed to say before he kissed you. The kiss started off soft and slow, but as his hands found their home on your waist, the kiss got harder. Your lips found a good rhythm as they got familiar with one another. His tongue skittered across your bottom lip, begging for permission to enter. Your tongues danced with one another before Coriolanus broke the kiss.

His lips pressed light kisses along your neck. He nipped at your skin causing you to jump a bit. He smiled into your skin and laid you down on his bed. His hand slid down to the bottom of your dress. You had changed after you got home from the visit with your tribute. You wanted to get that stupid uniform off before it suffocated you.

“Do you want this?” he asked as his fingers inched the bottom of your dress up inch by inch until the only thing that was left covering your bottom half was your underwear. They were already soaked through. He began placing soft kisses on the skin of your things, but he wouldn’t go any further until he got your permission. The last thing he wanted to do was make you uncomfortable. After all, this was supposed to be about you.

You nodded your head and Snow nipped your inner thigh. “Words, dove.”

“Yes, Coryo.”

“Good girl.” He breathed before his fingers hooked into the waistband of your underwear. He slowly took them off of you, dragging this on as long as he could before you went mad. Your chest rose and fell as you focused on the man in between your legs.

Right now, the games were the least of your worries. The people who started the rumors of Coriolanus and Lucy Grey could go to hell for all you cared. You finally had the truth. Coriolanus loved you, and no District Twelve songbird could change that.

Coriolanus nuzzles his nose against your clit as his tongue prods against your entrance. Your hand clamped over your mouth as you tried your best to muffle your moans. You would just die if Grandma'am or Tigris heard what their beloved Coriolanus was doing to you.

Seconds later, his mouth hungrily sucked on your clit. Your eyes went wide and you let out a silent moan. Overwhelmed with pleasure, your thighs clamp around his head, but instead of pushing them back, he keeps them there. He looks up at you and his beautiful blue eyes flutter close, enjoying the way you taste.

His fingers trace along your wet hole, gathering your slick. First, he inserts his index finger and then his middle one. His fingers are long and skinny, but they feel oh so fucking good. His fingers fuck in and out of you, stroking along your G-spot.

You can’t hold on much longer. He can tell by the way your pussy clenches around his fingers. He hungrily laps at your clit, drawing small and tight circles with his tongue. Coriolanus loves this part. The part when your back arches off his bed, when your pussy spasms around him, and when your thighs shake as you let out the prettiest moan. Chills run down your body as you shiver with pleasure. You come off your high as he takes his fingers out of you. They’re soaked with your release and he grins down at them. He licks his fingers clean of your slick and kisses the skin right above your hips.

“That better?” he asked, lying next to you on the bed.

You nod your head. You weren’t able to form words right at the moment.

“I’m sorry for making you believe that I would ever cheat on you. I really do love you, my dove.”

Your heart sank to the bottom of your stomach. You let oxygen fill your lungs before you exhale and turn it into carbon dioxide. “Coryo, I’m sorry for being jealous. I know how much this annual Hunger Games means to you. You know that my father would be more than happy to pay your rent. He knows how much you mean to me.”

Coriolanus shook his head. “That’s not what this is about. Dove, I don’t want you to feel like I’m using you for your father.”

You got up and straddled his lap, your bare pussy was just inches away from his hard cock. Coriolanus gulps, his Adam's apple bobbing. Your hands wipe away some hair from his face. “Then what is this about? Please, let me know. I want to help.”

He hides his face in the crook of your neck. “I want to show the Dean that I can win. I want to show him that Snow lands on top,” Coriolanus mumbles against your skin.

“Figuratively and literally,” you whisper.

Coriolanus spent the rest of the night showing you exactly what he meant by ‘Snow lands on top.’

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow smut #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow fic #coriolanus snow x you #the hunger games

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wqnwoos · 1 month

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it’s not like wonwoo to raise his voice, which is why, when you step into his living room, you’re almost baffled to see your best friend standing over a giggling soonyoung and seungkwan with a face of pure annoyance.

the moment you cross the threshold, however, he glances towards you and breaks off his sentence, smiling; soonyoung and seungkwan start giggling even harder; and you just stand there, sending a confused smile to wonwoo. “what’s going on?”

“wonwoo has a crush on — mmphh!” the rest of seungkwan’s sentence is stifled entirely by wonwoo stuffing a cushion in his face. which is also entirely unlike him, but you can’t really focus on that; not when your whole world tilted sideways at seungkwan’s words.

wonwoo has a crush.

which is fine. you’re one thousand percent a-okay with this new development. you feel fine! you feel great! you feel like crawling back home to bed and sobbing your heart out!

you’re not quite sure when Feelings, with a capital F, snuck up on you. somewhere between the time you guys talked on the fire escape of his building all through his birthday party and into the early morning, and the time he drove you outside the city to see the stars because you mentioned offhandedly you missed them.

or maybe during jeonghan’s new year’s party, where he drunkenly gave you a hershey’s kiss when you guys were stood on the balcony at 12am. or maybe when you first met, three years ago, on mingyu’s balcony. (there’s an ongoing theme here, now that you think about it.)

the root of it is — you’re halfway in love with your best friend. and it kind of feels like the world’s collapsing around you when it turns out he likes someone who isn’t you.

by the time you come back to your senses, soonyoung and seungkwan are already leaving, muttering obvious excuses (“gotta go water the cat, and y’know, feed the fish.”) that neither you nor wonwoo attempt to question. in fact, his eyes have been fixed on you since seungkwan opened his mouth.

there’s a heavy silence, when your two friends have gone, thickly blanketing the air between you two. it’s almost painful.

finally, wonwoo tilts his head ever so slightly to the side, giving you the smallest of smile. “balcony?”

and that’s where you end up, side-by-side, feet dangling between the bars as you press your cheek against the cool metal of them. it soothes your racing thoughts, helps you force back your tears.

there’s another silence. less weighty, more thoughtful.

you guess it must be the person from last week. he was supposed to go on a date last week; joshua is forever trying to set him up on dates, and wonwoo goes every few months. just to oblige him; they never work out, because wonwoo always comes home, tells joshua they were lovely, but he’s just not interested.

until now. now, he’s interested.

“i didn’t mean for you to find out like this,” wonwoo says, at last. the night outside is cold, and his words come out in puffs of misty air. “i’m sorry.”

“you don’t have to be sorry,” you say immediately. your voice sounds strange even to yourself; too bright, too false, too obviously hiding what you really want to say.

there’s another phase; awkward, this time, until you sigh, swallowing the bitter taste in your mouth. “i just — why would you react like that?”

“like what?”

“like that! just now! you didn’t want him to tell me — were you not planning to tell me?”

(am i so obvious? did you know what this would do to me?)

“i’ve wanted to,” he says slowly. “for a long time. i just — wasn’t sure how.”

this takes a moment to register with you. “a long time? didn’t you meet them a week ago?”

“what?” wonwoo sounds about as baffled as you feel. he looks at you for a long, long moment, dark hair ruffling in the night breeze, and sudden clarity dawns in his eyes. “you’re talking about the person joshua wanted to set me up with.”

“but — it’s not them? then who are you talking about?”

“i never went on that date,” he reveals. and all of a sudden, the corner of his lip is twitching, how it does when he’s amused and trying to hide it.

“so who do you,” you hesitate, swallowing again, “like? do i know them?”

there’s a smile threatening to break out on his face. you’ve never felt so out of sync with him. “i’d say you know them pretty well, actually.”

you sit there for a minute. trying not to think about how much this hurts, and instead trying to think of who this mysterious person could be.

“a hint,” wonwoo says, suddenly. his hand reaches up, thumb brushing against your cheekbone with a tenderness that has your heart stumbling. “they’re really fucking stupid.”

that’s all it takes for it to click. one second you’re frowning; the next, you’re wide-eyed and hot to the touch, whispering a soft, breathless - “really?”

there’s the laugh you love so much, escaping his throat as he speaks; “you didn’t hear seungkwan, inside?” when you shake your head, he continues, “he said — wonwoo has a crush on you.”

“oh. oh.” you gasp, suddenly so incredibly warm on the inside. you could boil over with it, this full, aching bliss. “i heard wonwoo has a crush. and that’s it.” you hesitate, lifting a hand up to meet his, slipping your fingers between his — your gazes meet. “is it really me?”

wonwoo kisses your knuckles, and it’s so much sweeter than any hershey’s kiss. “of course,” he says, and adds simply —“who else?”

an / ok so i just wrote a whole vernon thing and then posted it and then accidentally deleted it while trying to queue some srbs and i wanted to cry. but instead i wrote this. there was an anon who once said they hoped i’d write a wonwoo f2l one day and so best friend this is for YOU!!!!!

perm taglist: (sorry it’s formatted so weird!! the only way i could get it to work 😭) @n4mj00nvq @eoieopda @som1ig @glowunderthemoon @wondering-out-loud

@tokitosun @hannyoontify @sahazzy @icyminghao

@nicholasluvbot @lvlystars @immabecreepin @hanniehaee @kokoiinuts

@astrozuya @doublasting @yepimthatonequirkyteenager

@wootify @weird-bookworm @phenomenalgirl9 @lightnjng @strnsvt

@onlyyjeonghan @athanasiasakura

@iamawkwardandshy @twilghtkoo @yuuyeonie @lllucere @pearlesscentt

@sourkimchi

#wonwoo fluff #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo fic #wonwoo fanfiction #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen fic #seventeen x you #seventeen fanfic

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forkingandcountry-if · 2 months

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For King and Country is an 18+ period low fantasy fic which seeks to combine the extensive background work and history associated with high fantasy titles such as LOTR with more ‘realistic’ storytelling and settings. It may contain distressing content like depiction of regressive attitudes (sexism, misogyny and prejudice), major injury to the characters, character deaths, blood, gore, abuse and optional sexual content. More specific warnings will be given at the beginning of each chapter.

Remember those long summer days when the countryside was green and life was still young, when you were but a little culver and all the world was promised for you.

But summer has ended. Amidst the furore and tumult, autumn crept in unnoticed, finding you unprepared, still a greenhorn.

Now, the old order is dead, yet the Empire endures. In this new and uncertain world, what are you willing to do for your King and Country, O little culver?

Ah little tragedies, that you could not remain in the safety of your family's country manor, that they could not shield you once again from this world.

You must take to the capital at once, like all men and women of good birth, for king and country and the glory of the commonwealth! The spirit of progress and change has swept through the nation. The heady days of revolution are long over, and the streets have been washed clean of blood and filth. Invited to serve in the King's Army and attend university as a ward of the king, you must answer the King’s call. Navigate and become increasingly entangled in the web of intrigue, gossip, violence, and ideas that swirl around the nation. Enter a society radically different from the one you were raised to expect. These are the years that will decide your fate and that of your fellow countrymen. Act wisely, for it is not often that the world is within your grasp.

Features

Fully customize your MC. Choose your pronouns, sexuality, appearance and more. Assume the identity of a citizen of noble birth and experience the story through their eyes.

Romance one of seven ROs or engage in a polyamorous relationship with a pre-selected two of them. The only possible poly route is the Young King and the Queen Ruler.

Practice and specialise in the skills of the King's Army with the option for swordplay, marksmanship, offensive galderquid and diplomacy.

Define your political leanings on the leading issues of your time.

Debate, engage and make allies and enemies with the various competing factions and interests that flock to the city.

Study at Pyrenne University, earning your lecturers admiration for your diligence, intellect, ambition or adventurousness or cruise through relying on your wealth and ability to hide.

Help to stabilize or sabotage the Empire.

Don't lose your head.

Critical Lore*

Talent

Galder denotes the practice of magic within our nation, a discipline requiring extensive study and mastery. The ability to manipulate Galderquid, the fundamental essence of magic, is a rare and intricate skill, demanding years of rigorous training to achieve even moderate proficiency.

Every individual possesses a basic affinity for Galderquid, but those with exceptional potential are identified through comprehensive evaluations conducted by village or city physicians around the ages of 12 or 13. These assessments determine the individual's capacity for advanced magical education.

Upon evaluation, candidates are assigned a national rank based on their proficiency. Those demonstrating exceptional aptitude are offered state-sponsored education at the Pyrenne Univetsity at the age of 18. Others are placed in various other institutions or may pursue private tutelage.

Galder is often referred to as the "fifth philosophy," characterized by its non-intuitive nature. Mastery requires adherence to rigorous methodologies grounded in reason, first principles, and established precedents. The study of Galder encompasses several specialized fields, each with distinct applications and techniques:

Sympathetic Galder: This field focuses on influencing the minds of individuals or animals. It includes practices such as illusion creation, language translation, emotional manipulation, and sleep inducement.

Transmutative Galder: Involves altering the intrinsic nature or form of objects. This process generally relies on the principle that the original and transformed items must possess equivalent 'worth.' The approximate worth of common subjects of transmutation can be found in any good transmutation book.

Invocation Galder: Pertains to the summoning and manipulation of natural elements, including water, earth, fire, and wind.

Clerical Galder: Associated with the Church, this field is predominantly closed practice. However, educational institutions provide instruction in healing and charming, which are also fundamental aspects of clerical magic.

Archery: Involves the use of Galder to manifest a bow and arrows composed of energy. These projectiles deliver significant blunt damage upon impact but they have more varied usage and techniques as taught by bow-masters.

Blade-Use: Similar to Archery, this field focuses on creating blades, swords, or daggers from Galder. These weapons inflict substantial blunt damage but they have more varied usage and techniques as taught by blade-masters.

The Second Civil War

The Second Civil War, sometimes known as the Revolution is recognized as having commenced approximately ten years ago and concluded two years later with the ascension of King Edmund I of House Wynd. The conflict was precipitated by a series of critical events and widespread discontent among the populace throughout the entire reign of the King Wulfric I Wynd regarding the laws of his government and his conduct as monarch.

The Second Civil was notably ignited by the previous monarch's decision to disinherit his eldest daughter and legitimise his illegitimate children thus making them heir presumptive. This controversial move generated significant unrest among the yeomanry and laborers, who perceived the monarch's actions as unjust and contrary to ecclesiastical teachings. Particularly in redeemist cities across the Empire, widespread protests ensued, leading to the deposition and, in some instances, the defenestration of local officials such as Lord Mayors, Sheriffs, and Governors who supported the king and a state of national emergency being declared with martial law being invoked.

A general, Walthe Courtney, who had previously fought in the unpopular Eleven Years' War on behalf of the crown, emerged as a pivotal leader of the revolution. Utilizing strategic peasant uprisings and sieges, Reval's forces delivered decisive blows to the royalist regime. The revolution culminated in the fall of the capital during the Siege of the King's Seat.

Following the war, a great council of all the great houses instituted several significant reforms. While the monarchy was retained, it was now bound with the monarch being bound by the Grand East Code. In accordance with the written will of the disinherited princess, who died on the battlefield during the conflict an exception was made to place her youngest brother, Edmund, then only 17 years old, on the throne.

The bicameral parliament was replaced by a unicameral national assembly with expanded suffrage of yeomanry and labourers with certain amounts of land. The sole eligibility criteria for parliamentarians are citizenship, attainment of the age of majority, no debt owed to the crown with elections held every eight years.

General Walthe Courtney was appointed as Lord-Protector of the Realm with extensive powers throughout Edmund’s reign and continued as Commander of the Armies for the duration of their tenure. Furthermore, the Pyrenne University was opened to all individuals of suitable skill, not limited to the children of nobility.

Under the new provisions, all children from great houses or those vassal houses with an annual income exceeding 1,300 libre must receive training and serve in the King's Army and live as wards of the king upon reaching the age of eighteen. The official language of the proclamation declares it to be in the national interest that the next leaders of the regions and nations of the Empire know personally their king and capital but the aim is considered to be preventing another war.

The King's Council is required to be include the Premier elected by the eligible electorate. The Premier recommends people to be members of the King's Council although the King is not bound to accept. The King retains the authority to appoint cabinet members from outside parliament, early precedent set by King Edmund I Wynd suggests that he will appoint those recommended by the Lord-Protector.

The King's Army and Pyrenne University

The King's Army, colloquially known among the common folk as the Small Army or King's Life Guard, serves as a voluntary armed force in peacetime within the Empire. Its primary role is to function as a national guard, maintaining peace and order across the extensive and diverse territories of the Empire and swear loyalty solely to the King.

During periods of peace, the King's Guard is comprised of volunteers who contribute to the stability of the nation. However, in times of war, the monarch is vested with the authority to implement conscription, thereby obligating the great houses to raise men to fight for their king.

Following the Great Council of 421, significant reforms were introduced regarding service in the King's Guard. Those heirs of great houses are now required to complete four years service and training within the King's Army as wards of the king although this time can be commuted upon ascension as Lord/Lady Paramount of their house. This training is relatively light compared to full military training, designed to balance the economic and educational responsibilities of these citizens with their military duties.

Pyrenne University is a theological university founded in the year 262AR by Tristan of Pyrenne, a master of theology and galder and was recognized by the King as a royal college in 289AR. It's Faculty of Theology is unrivaled across the entirety of the world and is considered one of the foremost institutions for education in galder, theology and philosophy.

Pyrenne admits its students on the basis of the national ranking system and the census taken each year, those students with a sufficiently high natural affinity for the study of galder are offered a place in which to study it beyond the common extent offered by tutors and hedge-witches.

Pyrenne has in recent years, following the second civil war and the increase in punishment by religious courts for physicians who attribute false rankings, with an increased student cohort particularly from the yeomanry and international scholars though the large majority of the general cohort remains largely consisted of the children of nobility.

Beyond its Faculty of Theology, Pyrenne University is one of the foremost institutions driving forward the development of innovations regarding farming and building, mechanics and the engine'ering class that has developed in major cities across the Empire.

Situated in the capital city, Pyrenne University benefits from its central location in what is often regarded as a hub of youthful energy and societal activity. Its reputation as a center for young nobles and genteel individuals enhances the college's role as a key venue for social introduction. It is frequently heralded as a place where the most advantageous social and matrimonial matches are made, positioning it as a pivotal institution in shaping the elite's social landscape.

The Empire

The Empire, as it is commonly known, is a vast realm governed by the Nine Paramountcies and the Imperial Household, all of whom rule from the King's Seat. This grand structure of power was forged between the years 23 ANU (Anno Non Unitus, or Year of the Ununified) and 1 AR (Anno Rex, or Year of the King) through the conquests of King Adan I, who earned the title "the Unifier."

From its inception, the Empire adopted an expansionist stance, which has characterized much of its history. This policy of territorial growth has been met with widespread approval among its citizens, largely due to the substantial wealth and resources it has brought to the nation. As the largest empire in the world and the unifier of the continent, it has established itself as the dominant lingua franca of common, further solidifying its influence and stature.

Throughout the Empire's history, the Imperial Household and the title of King have primarily been held by House Galagar, reigning from 1 AR to 399 AR, and later by House Wynd, from 399 AR to 438 AR. There have been instances where other houses acted as regents, temporarily holding the title on behalf of House Galagar, such as House Cruller (348 AR-352 AR) and House Abbey (9 AR-13 AR & 154AR-155AR).

Despite its vast wealth and dominance, the Empire has faced relatively frequent rebellions in its paramountcies where calls for independence have persisted. Historically, these uprisings have been met with swift and overwhelming military responses. However, recently in 399AR during the Wyndham Rebellion, King Hendrick the Conqueror succeeded in overthrowing House Galagar and replacing it with his own house who have led the empire since.

*The lore detailed here is accurate but also only extends as far as the protagonist's knowledge of these subjects at the present time of the fic, some detail will be lost or may have been withheld from the MC and they may have misconceptions.

Romances

When the advisors are not praising his good sense, nor the bards his mirth, the church his piety or the poor his generosity, the question emerges just who is King Edmund I Wynd?

The young king thrust into a position of power who uses it as well as he knows how, having learnt from the mistakes of his grandfather and father and the long shadow of war that is still cast over the continent?

Or is he merely the figurehead, installed after a turbulent civil war, a king whose true authority has been surrendered to the councilors around him, contenting himself with the trappings of kingship rather than its substance?

Alas who is to know?

Name: King Edmund I Wynd

Age: 21

Height: 6'5

Appearance: Edmund stands at a 6'5, noticeably lanky although his seemingly permanent jaunty posture appears to cut an inch or two of him. He possesses short bronde hair styled in such a fashion that it appears wind-swept and fashionably ruffled with various products used to achieve the effect. He possesses a lean athletic physique although it is evidently achieved through some sort of diet or exercise for aesthetic rather than being muscles created by years of work. He nearly always has a relaxed expression with a smile and his pale face is framed by his grey eyes.

(he/him) poly-route, solo-route

Tropes: Life of the Party, Commitment Issues

Could it be that she, the queen consort, wields the true power behind the throne, acting as a surrogate for her kind lord, who never could bring himself to grasp the reins of authority?

She possesses the strength and allure of a king in her own right. Under her vigilant oversight, the king’s armies have routed the empire's foes, and now her gaze turns inward, determined to root out the treacherous elements within the realm.

Yet, amid her march towards peace at the end of a sword, there are those who seek to see her order destroyed. How long can it last? A queen consort without an heir, without children, lacking a direct claim to the throne, aging, and some even question her bond with the king himself.

Name: Veronica Abbey-Wynd

Age: 36

Height: 5'9

Appearance: Veronica stands straight at a tall 5'9 although her heels often push her to 5'11 or even 6'0. She has long wavy chestnut brown hair although more often than not it is in an updo of some sort for practicality. She has a healthy physique with faint lines and wrinkles, with an olive skin as well as doe-shaped deep brown eyes. Somehow a picture of beauty and severity, all the soft lines of her body somehow harsh.

(she/her) poly-route, solo-route

Tropes: scary hot, masc women

Walthe Courtney, Commander of the King’s Armies and Protector of the Realm, emerged as a formidable figure in the Second Civil War. Leading the rebels with unmatched martial prowess, he earned the acclaim of being the finest swordsman in the land. His valor and leadership were instrumental in overthrowing the usurper-king and restoring order to the fractured realm.

In the aftermath of the bloody conflict, he was celebrated as a folk hero—a commoner who rose to lead his people to victory and bring about a semblance of peace. His contributions were rewarded with knighthood and elevation to nobility, an ode to his honour.

Now, as Protector of the Realm, Walthe ensures the continuation of stability with a steady hand. Yet, despite his efforts, a persistent thorn remains, a challenge beyond even his considerable grasp, casting a shadow over his otherwise successful stewardship.

Name: Walthe Courtney

Age: 43

Height: 5'11

Appearance: Walthe has short, practical wavy black hair streaked with grey throughout, reflecting years of experience and hardship. their muscled, well-built stature is a testament to their years of service. He has warm tanned skin, indicative of his heritage being from the centre of the continent. His light green eyes stand out against his rugged features, with a determined, piercing gaze.

(he/him/they) solo-route

Tropes: The Stoic, No Sense of Humour, Heroic BSoD

From the day his family and house declared for the usurper-king, it was clear that Lorn Greenspan, the youngest of seven brothers, would be sent away as a ward.

Only eight years old, he had to play his part, leaving behind the familiar chill of his home—its cold peaks and harsh landscape fading from sight. He was a pawn in a conflict he could scarcely comprehend

His father had told him plainly that he must be strong—because until the day their house bent the knee, Lorn would remain a ward, and his father had no intention of surrendering.

Forced to adapt, Lorn became useful, talented, indispensable—not out of love for those his family would call captors, but out of necessity. Now, he stands as your closest advisor and a member of your house in all but name—cool, calculating, indifferent. Yet beneath that icy exterior burns a quiet resolve. Though he never expects his father to yield, he is determined to see his homeland again, even if it means waging war to bring it to heel.

Name: Lorn of Greenspan

Age: 18

Height: 6'0

Appearance: Lorn has a thick head of dark chestnut hair, gently wavy, it is always styled fashionably with pomade and volume. He has a tawny complexion and almost amber, brown eyes that if you didn't know him you'd think were perpetually concerned and caring rather than probing and scanning. Though under his stylish clothes you couldn't tell it, his body is lean and athletic from harsh training.

(he/him) solo-route

Tropes: advisor-turned-lover, secretly-in-love, black cat

The unbroken line of Galagar Kings may have fractured at Kirston Wall, but the proud Highland rulers never truly relinquished their claim. To them, Hendrick the Conqueror and his descendants are nothing more than traitors. Yet, they understand that a king's throne is grounded in the right of conquest, and so they bide their time, quietly assembling their forces, tempering their men, and honing their blades.

Preparing for the inevitable clash, they drill relentlessly through lashing rain and violent gales, each generation more convinced of their righteousness and the frailty of their enemies. The realm may slumber in uneasy peace, but in the Highlands, war is always on the horizon.

Kent Galagar, the young Lord of Kirston, was shaped by this belief from childhood. His father, his grandfather, and his great-grandfather—all were kings in their own eyes, their thrones stolen by usurpers. To Kent, acknowledging this truth makes you an ally, a friend. To deny it brands you an enemy, destined to be crushed when the time comes.

For Kent, proud, arrogant, and stubborn as he may seem, the world is divided by a simple truth: those who support the Galagar claim, and those who will fall before it.

Name: Kent Galagar

Age: 18

Height: 5'9

Appearance: Kent possesses a mane of thick, raven-black hair, often left loose or tied back with a leather strap. His skin is scattered with freckling, with a pale complexion. He has piercing blue eyes and a gaze that can shift from arrogant levity to fiery determination in an instant. His powerful frame is unmistakable, with broad shoulders and a chest that strains against the fabric of his tunics. His physique is defined—broad-shouldered and muscular, but not overly so, with a build that suggests both agility and power. His movements carry the confidence of someone who knows his strength and is unafraid to use it.

(he/him) solo-route

Tropes: Intense, enemies to lovers, jerk with a heart of gold

The nobility are arrogant, cruel, greedy, scheming, and foolish—qualities Arfryn has learned all too well through her peripheral access to them. Her current place among them is no accident but the product of the sweat, blood and tears of her entire family.

Born to a guildman father and a common mother from the east continent, Arfryn witnessed firsthand how the shifting tides of national conflict mirrored the fortunes of her own family. Every struggle either bolstered their wealth or teetered them on the brink of ruin, a fate shared by the yeomanry at large.

Her father, Jasper Caldwell, is the first Premier elected from the Small Parliament, a yeoman elevated by the newly enfranchised class. He has—in no uncertain terms—made it clear that his own position hinges on the peace of the realm.

Arfryn, understanding these dynamics, sees through the superficial grandeur of the nobility. Though she finds them to be the very embodiment of arrogance and folly, she is determined to bend them to her will. For now, she plays the game—offering smiles, be gracious, and dance while they are watching.

Name: Arfryn Caldwell

Age: 20

Height: 5'11

Appearance: Arfryn has a striking presence with her rich, deep brown skin and loose, jet-black braids that cascade down her back. Her eyes are a penetrating dark brown, revealing a sharp intelligence behind a charming, amiable demeanor. She dresses in elegantly simple fabrics that highlight her natural grace—always muted and refined to suit her surroundings but always at the very forefront of courtly fashions. At 5'11 her movements are deliberate, blending seamlessly into the nobility’s world, designed to make her easy to like and hard to hold grudges against.

(she/her) solo-route

Tropes: Steel Magnolia, Dark Feminine

In public Dean Champion is everything a Lady-Knight should be, prodigiously skilled with both galder and weapons, valiant, chivalrous and extremely popular amongst all who meet her or have the chance to witness her in action.

She like many knights is also spoiled to a fault, her suits of armour gleaming and her squire-boys tasked with keeping them so, as they are expensive and extravagant. Indeed she wears them because all people like a performance.

In private, Dean has dedicated herself entirely to her studies at Pyrenne University, determined to learn all there is about the study and practice of galder and perhaps indeed the deeper secrets that only the great masters know—all the better to become both loved and indispensable to the state.

As the younger sibling of a line with many children, she does not expect to ever inherit and nor does she ever want to, she is entirely content with her career as a tourney knight and the life she's lead in the King's Seat thus far. Indeed Dean has long been utterly convinced that she'd make an awful Lady Paramount, she is convinced utterly that all those like her that revel in the spectacle, the fervor of battle and tourney alike are utterly unsuitable for such position.

Name: Dean Champion

Age: 19

Height: 5'9

Appearance: Dean has long deep auburn hair, typically braided for both practicalities sake and fashion, with strands often escaping to frame her face. Her skin is fair as if she'd somehow escaped the sun of both her home and the tourney. Her pale green eyes are bright and framed by dark eyelashes. Dean's build is athletic and commanding, showing off the results of rigorous training and combat practice, yet she carries herself with a grace that befits her status as a renowned Lady-Knight. Her entire demeanor projects a sort of graceful confidence, like that you'd expect of a Prince of ages past.

(she/her) solo-route

Tropes: The Lady and Knight, Knight in Sour Armour

Fran has long understood that she commands little respect at court—indeed, as a bastard, she finds herself dismissed even within her own family. Yet there is one, a young Lord who is but a child, who gave her legitimacy, who looks up to her, and has earned her unwavering loyalty. Her beloved little brother.

It is for him that she accepted the king's invitation to the King's Seat, to train in the King's Army. She wants to be his eyes, his ears, and his sword.

True loyalty is a rare commodity among the highborn, for what do they owe anyone but themselves and their own appetites?

She is content to endure their scorn and wear the title "Loyal Hound" with pride. After all, what insult lies therein? A good hound is strong, lethal, obedient, loved, loyal, and free to roam so long as it always returns. And return to him she will.

Name: Fran Radwell-Cadderly

Age: 18

Height: 5'7

Appearance: Fran's dirty-blonde hair is cut short, falling just above her shoulders—a length chosen for practicality rather than fashion. Her complexion is fair, lightly sun-kissed from time spent outdoors, with a few sun-spots across her nose and cheeks. Her eyes are a dull blue-green, carrying an intensity that contrasts with her otherwise unassuming features. Her build is lean and wiry, reflecting a life of rigorous training, with a strength that belies her slender frame. Though she dresses simply, her presence is commanding, a blend of quiet confidence and restrained power and it makes her feel much bigger than the 5'7 she stands at.

(she/her) solo-route

Tropes: Guard Dog, Loyal Companion, Golden Retriever

Additional

Demo: out now!

Pinterest: not yet available

Art: not yet available

Feedback Survey: not yet available

All Asks and Reposts are appreciated, work will be slow but steady and a demo should be ready shortly!

ask me lore questions please, I have far too many notes on this.

#current wip #interactive fiction #status: wip #choicescript #for king and country #forkingandcountry-if #if demo

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muffinpink02 · 2 months

Text

Coffee Shop

Summary - You get a job with Mapi, she's a big flirt, your current partner is a dick, does Mapi sway your mind? Some appearances from the Barca girls. Got a lot done but a lot more to go. This will hava a part 2 at some point.

Warning Smut 18 & rough, consensual sex/shitty partner

“That’s it, just like that. Good” She husked

“Like that?” You whispered, listening intently to the girl's instructions.

“Sí, go a bit higher.” You could see from the corner of your eye she was biting her lip.

The Spaniard placed her tattooed hands around yours, directing your movements, you felt your breath catch slightly in your throat from her touch.

“Just like that. You’re doing good, hold it there.” She was so close, you could smell her woody perfume. She let go of your hands, giving you range to move.

“I can see someone’s getting more comfortable.” Mapi hummed.

You chuckled softly, her breath tickled your neck. “I have a good teacher.”

The brunette lightly chuckled. “Okay. Now hit it hard so the air bubbles go.”

You pulled the jug of milk from the machine and did as the brunette said.

“Perfecto. Now this part is more tricky, but try and do the heart, like I showed you.”

You tilted the mug with the shot of coffee and poured the frothy milk inside. Trying your best attempt at making the artwork from the steamy milk. You both watched as the hot milk mixed with the coffee. It had started out well but began to look similar to a poo emoji.

“Ergh. I can’t do it, Mapi.” You looked at the coffee mug, a frown now on your face.

The Spaniard put her hand on your shoulder. “Hey, it’s not easy, princesa. I didn’t get it straight away. You’re getting there.” She smiled warmly at you.

“Yeah, I just want to get it right.” You looked down at the coffee mug, letting out a loud sigh.

——————-

It had been a month since you started working at the coffee shop. On your first day you arrived ten minutes early, you entered the small cosy cafe that you had always passed on your walks, but for some reason had never entered.

The bell rang above your head, catching your new colleagues' attention. You were greeted by the tattooed Spaniard, the very confident, very beautiful, very cocky Spaniard.

“Hola, you must be the new starter. I’m Mapi.”

Mapi was hot, with a capital H. You drank in her olive skin and tattooed covered arms as she walked toward you. You tried your best to not stare for too long. Though the Spaniard didn't try very hard, her brown eyes scanned your body as soon as you walked through the door. A cheeky smile plastered her face as she stuck her lean arm out for you to hold.

She showed you around, demonstrating the basics of the machines, where the storage cupboard was and where you could find most of the supplies you would need during your shift. She got you to clean for the day, not wanting to overwhelm you on your first day, allowing you to get used to your surroundings.

You cleaned like she had asked, even cleaning bits that looked like they hadn’t been touched in a while. You weren't able to talk much longer as the shop got busy in its morning rush.

But now and again you got distracted, you had found yourself staring at Mapi throughout the day. Your eyes drifted to her decorated arms as you cleared tables. You watched the way her muscles flexed when making the drink orders for the customers. Or how she stuck her tongue out in concentration as she counted the customers' change.

The Spaniard had caught you staring plenty of times, but never said anything. She would smirk at you as if she had an idea of what you were looking at, and she would take the opportunity to ask if you were doing okay, or ask if you needed help, smirking to herself as you flustered.

Of course you tried to make it look like you weren't staring, trying your best to look away before she caught you. But your eyes would still end up wandering back to her not long after.

In the quieter hours of the day you found out you had a lot of things in common. Mapi played for a local football team, she played in defence. You explained how you had played before but not since you injured your knee, but you told her you’d love to try again in the future.

“You are more than welcome to come and try out. Or even come and watch us play.” The Spaniard smiled at you, pure joy on her face.

“Yeah, definitely. I’d love that.” You smiled at the brunette.

By the end of the shift music started to play through the shop's speakers, Mapi asked what you wanted to listen to. Finding out you had very similar music tastes.

She closed the shop door behind her, locking it with the keys. She turned to you.

“Hey, you did well today. I’ll show you more of the coffee making tomorrow, in the quiet times.”

“Thank you. Yeah, that sounds good, I don’t want you to think I’m useless.” You laughed.

“I don’t think you are anything of the kind.” She looked at you with a straight face.

You felt your cheeks warm up, you chuckled gently. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.” She smiled at you.

————

It was now a month in, and you were a lot more comfortable, thanks to a certain Spaniard. It was closing time, and as usual Mapi had her music blaring over the speakers. You swept the floors while she emptied the dishwasher.

“Hey, what are you doing tonight? Me and my friends are going to Club 10 if you want to join?”

The thought of going out clubbing with Mapi was exciting, and you were a little sad that you couldn’t join, only as you had plans.

“I can’t. My girlfriend’s coming to mine for dinner. But thank you for asking. Next time though.” You smiled apologetically at her.

“Ahh no worries, I’ll ask again.” She winked at you as she started to stack the mugs.

Since you started working at the coffee shop, Mapi shamelessly flirted with you. She flirted with such ease it never felt serious. She would laugh after a one liner that made your cheeks go bright red, then get on with whatever task she was in the middle of doing. She never made you feel uncomfortable, it never felt gross or too much, she just liked teasing you.

You knew the Spanish were flirty, touchy people, you had even seen her do it with customers now and again. She was clearly just a naturally flirty person.

However, it didn’t stop your heart from racing every so often, especially if she was giving you a certain look when she did decide to flirt. Or a certain cheeky smile when she was being extra touchy, you would have to take yourself to the bathroom to have a quick breather. You weren't blind, Mapi was beyond sexy, but not only was she your type on paper, she was kind, funny and genuinely seemed to care about what was going on with you.

But, you never took your feelings further than that, you had a girlfriend, a girlfriend of nine months. Things were going good, you really liked Frankie, she was smart, successful, funny and great in bed. You had even recently said those big three words just over a month ago, she hadn’t said it back but you weren't going to push her. She would say that in her own time.

————

You plaited up the food you had spent ages cooking, pleasantly surprised at how it came out.

“Smells good babe, you didn’t put any spicy stuff in it did you?” Frankie asked while scrolling on her phone.

“No, nothing too spicy. I added some seasoning, but only for flavour.”

You placed Frankie’s food in front of her.

“Okay, cos I really can’t do spice.”

You sat down across from her and smiled.

“I know. No spice. I promise.”

Thankfully Frankie deemed it edible enough to eat. Well, it was more the vegetables that she ate. She attempted the chicken that you had added a small amount of flavour to, she had to stop a few times for extra water.

“So when do you think you’ll get a proper job?” Frankie asked as she pushed around the food on her plate.

You stopped your own fork before it got to your lips.

“What do you mean?” You frowned.

“Well a waitress isn’t a real job. When do you think you’ll be going back to an office job?”

“Well, I’m not a waitress, it’s a barista role and I’ve only started there and I actually really enjoy it. You know I wasn’t happy at my last job. I needed a break from all that corporate shit.”

She gave you that look that you hated, it was a look that made you feel stupid, like you had just said the dumbest thing she had ever heard.

“Well, you can’t do that forever. You’ll have to get back to it at some point.” She drank her water.

You suddenly lost your appetite, you placed your fork on your plate. You felt that anxious feeling creeping on your skin.

You had left your project manager role just over six weeks ago, you hated your last job, it had gotten way too stressful. Your manager would make you feel bad for not putting in extra work, and extra work was putting it lightly. He wanted you to do two people’s jobs, and then some. They hadn’t hired enough staff due to people leaving monthly. You wouldn’t have minded too much but they didn’t even pay you for the extra hours you did do.

The job had even started to creep into your personal life. You were too tired to meet your friends as you were working over time and too stressed to not take your mind off work during the weekends as you would get constant emails and calls from clients.

Your manager had even called you while you were on a pre booked holiday asking you to end it early. And you did leave the holiday early, as you were half threatened that you would lose your job if you didn’t. When you needed a half day for a funeral you were denied straight away, that’s when you knew you were done with the company.

You gave in your notice the next day and decided to have a small break, you had saved up a bit of money over the years, so financially you were fine. You just wanted to have a two or three month break, to maybe go away or just figure out a new role. Nothing like what you were doing before.

You had only taken the coffee shop job because Frankie wouldn’t stop talking about you not having a job. It made you feel lazy and insecure, you felt like you kind of had to. So your break was cut short to two weeks.

“Well, I’m happy there. I don’t think I’ll be looking for anything else any time soon.”

Frankie rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her water.

“Whatever, it’s your life, waste it on what you want.”

Before you could respond Frankie’s phone began to ring. “I got to take this, you can throw the rest away. It’s too spicy.”

Frankie left the room, her phone pressed to her ear.

You cleared the table, a lump bubbled in your throat, you felt like shit. You knew Frankie meant well, but she was from a different background. She was from money. Her dad got her role in PR because he knew the owner of the company. She hadn’t worked for the role in any way. And if that didn’t work out he would more than likely get her a role in another firm, like he always did.

————

It was half three, and dead in the coffee shop. You and Mapi were having a debate on what women’s team were likely to win the euros in 2025.

“Come on, Spain will win, we won the worlds! Why would we not win euros?”

You loved winding her up about football, she was the only other person that loved it as much as you.

“Hmm I don’t know. You guys got lucky in my opinion.”

“Pshhh. You are just hurt because we are the better team.”

“It was luck, just one goal. Nothing to shout about.” You smirked.

Mapi was done with your teasing, she grabbed the jug of milk off the side and flicked the froth right at your face. By the look on her own face she had done more than she meant to, she looked slightly worried until she saw you smile.

You dramatically gasped, wiping some of the mess from your cheeks. You broke out into a playful smile and began to laugh. She smiled instantly at your reaction, laughing at her mistake.

You looked around the counter, trying to find your own weapon, you grabbed the hot chocolate ganache pot, laughing internally as Mapi’s face dropped.

“No, come on. I was kidding. I’m sorry. Please, chica.” Mapi put her arms up in defence. You stepped closer to her, clearly not caring about her protest. She then took a different approach.

“Come on, princesa.” She pleaded.

You couldn't help but feel butterflies at her nickname for you.

“You can’t waste it, you can’t put good chocolate to waste. If you do it, you’ll have to eat it off me” She stepped closer to you, a devilish smirk on her face. The smirk that made your knees buckle, and you had a feeling she knew that.

You were never one to flirt back, you would normally roll your eyes or batter off whatever hot and heavy sentence the Spaniard would lay on you, but you decided to play her at her own game. The words came out before you could really register what you were saying.

“Hmm. but I don’t think you could handle my tongue.”

Mapis' face was a perfect picture of shock. You gave yourself a mental pat on the back for being able to make the girl falter like you did. Before the brunette had a chance to reply the bell on the door chimed, you turned around to greet the customer

“Frankie? Wha- what are you doing here?”

Frankie walked towards the counter, a big smile on her face. Until she eyed up Mapi, who was probably standing too close for Frankie’s liking.

“Well, don’t look too happy to see your girlfriend.” She emphasised the last word.

“No I am. I just. I wasn’t expecting you.”

Frankie loved when she made you a bit helpless, you could see it on her face, you must have looked like a deer in headlights.

“Well I was passing by, I wanted to see why you loved it here so much.” She then eyed up Mapi once more.

“Frankie, this is Mapi. She’s trained me on everything I need to know about coffee and how to make the perfect hot chocolate.” You smiled at Mapi. “Mapi, this is Frankie, my girlfriend.”

Mapi reached her hand out for Frankie.

“Hola, it’s nice to meet you.” The Spaniard smiled at Frankie.

Frankie looked Mapi up and down like she didn’t want to touch her hand, but she did, and she did it quickly. You didn’t miss it, and neither did Mapi.

Frankie laughed. “Is there really much to know? It’s coffee, not rocket science. It’s not that hard.”

You felt your skin prickle. You hated when Frankie was like this.

“Actually there is a bit to know about coffee and how it’s made. It can almost be a science lesson.” Mapi laughed at her own joke.

“Mapis right. There’s a lot to it.” You looked at Frankie, almost pleading with your eyes to stop her rudeness.

“Hmm, I guess we’ll have to agree to disagree. Are you allowed to have that many tattoos showing while you’re working? Does it not put the customers off?”

You heard Mapi laugh under her breath.

“I actually get a lot of compliments, especially from the ladies.” Mapi winked at Frankie, she wasn’t going to bite back.

“Each to their own. I just wouldn’t be allowed to have any tattoos showing like that at my work.”

You then chimed in. “You don’t even have tattoos and I don’t actually think they would care much at your work, Frankie. It’s not like you're a rocket scientist.” You joked but could tell that pissed Frankie off.

Mapi laughed, she put her hand on your shoulder.

“I’m going to count the items in the storage cupboard chica. Was nice to meet you Frankie.” Mapi walked away, leaving you and Frankie alone.

“That was rude. Why are you being like that?”

“I was just joking. Listen, I came here to apologise. I was a dick the other night, I don’t want to argue.” Frankie took your hand in hers, giving you the puppy dog eyes that she always used when you argued.

You smiled, you weren't one to stay mad. You squeezed her hand back, leaning in to give her a quick kiss.

“Do you want to go for dinner next week? We can go to that place that you like?” Frankie asked.

“Yes! The Spanish restaurant?” You chimed.

“Yeah, that one.”

“I’d love that.” You clapped.

Frankie smiled, you could tell she had more to say.

“I also have to travel for work tomorrow. We’ve got a new client that the company wants to impress. So I’ll be gone for three nights. I won’t be able to talk to you much.”

You felt your shoulders drop. “Really? Okay well. I guess you can’t say no. We can FaceTime at night.” You tried to be positive.

“Well, maybe, you would have to text me first. Don’t just spring a FaceTime on me, I might be out with the new clients.” She laughed.

“Yeah that makes sense.”

“I’ll be back Thursday evening, we can go for dinner on Friday evening.”

“Okay, I can’t wait.” You said.

“Anyways I got to go, I’ll see you later tonight?” Frankie smiled.

“Yeah. See you tonight.”

You leaned back in to give Frankie a quick kiss, but you suddenly felt her grab you by the T shirt, pulling you hard. You yelped as she pushed her tongue deep into your mouth. You pulled back, looking at Frankie in confusion, she never kissed you like that in public, she was always one to hate PDA. You caught her eyes, she was looking at Mapi, who wasn’t paying any attention to the pair of you.

“What are you doing?” You wiped your mouth, slightly annoyed.

“Nothing. Just wanted to kiss you. I’ll see you later.” Frankie walked out the coffee shop, smirking to herself.

Mapi came back up to restock the fridge. “Your girlfriend is nice.” She said it with enough sarcasm.

“Sorry. I don’t know why she acted like that.”

“It's obvious, no?” She smirked as she stalked up to you. “You have to work with a very sexy.” She stepped closer. “Very charming.” Her arms trapped your body against the coffee bar. “Very tattooed, Spanish girl, all day.”

The brunette had your body caged between hers and the bar. Her face was so close to yours, you could feel her breath on your lips. You couldn't stop your eyes from roaming over her delicate pink lips. Your mind wondered what it would be like to have those same lips on yours, or other places. You felt your pussy spasm at the dirty thoughts flooding your brain.

She whispered.“See bonita, you can’t keep your eyes off of me.”

Her smirk was devilish. It was like she could read your mind. You felt your cheeks blush from her comment. Her dark eyes roamed your face, it looked like she wanted to kiss you. Suddenly her body was gone. Her laugh brought you back from the daze that was Mapi. She started stocking the fridge, chuckling to herself as if she hadn't just had you hanging on to every word of hers.

“You are like a baby rabbit, no. Squirrel? Some kind of fuzzy creature.”

You blew out a chuckle, trying to compose yourself. But you could feel the heat between your legs. You looked over at the clock. How many hours did you have left?

—--------------

“Fuck, just like that.” You were between Frankies legs, eating her out while she pulled hard on your hair. It was the third time in a row that you had gotten her off, not that you minded but you had been horny since work.

Not for any particular reason.

But you had been desperate to have some release and the minute you stepped through the door you could tell Frankie needed it to. She had just about said hello when she pulled you into the bedroom, kissing you hard. Her teeth sunk in your bottom lip making you whimper against her mouth. But she only swallowed your cries. She pushed your back against the wall, you winced as you hit the foundation.

“I need your tongue.” Was all she said before you were being pushed to your knees. She unbuckled her jeans and grabbed your head, forcing your face between her legs. She let out a gasp, her head tilted back as your tongue made connection with her clit. You didn’t mind this kind of sex, you were the more submissive one between the pair of you, and it could get rough and desperate and you knew Frankie liked being in charge.

She grabbed the back of your head as she fucked your face against the wall. Her hips rolled into your mouth, taking complete charge of your movements.

“Stick your tongue out.” She demanded.

You stuck your tongue out for her. She grinded her pussy along your tongue, it was like you was her fuck toy.

She came quickly, pushing your head against the wall as she used you to get off. After she came, she moved you onto the bed. You thought she wanted to do the same to you, but she made herself comfy on the pillows. You watched as she laid back, opening her legs and pointed between them.

So you did as she asked, you didn't mind going again, you were a giver, you loved pleasing your partners but the wetness between your legs was ever growing. It took her a lot longer to come this time, as she had literally just came a minute before she had you on your knees again. But eventually after some time she came in your mouth, her hand holding your head down roughly.

Once she released your hair you sat up. You were desperate for her now. It had been a while since you had sex with Frankie. You knew she was stressed from work, having new important clients on. So sex was off the cards. Well, she would be too tired to do bits to you. So you ended up like this a lot of the time, your face or hands between her legs. You moved up to kiss her, she sucked your tongue into her mouth.

“Again.” She husked out.

“Again?” You chuckled breathlessly.

“Yeah, I need you babe. You make me feel so good.” She stroked your face lovingly.

“Okay. Are you not too sensitive?”

“No.” She kissed you again and started to push your head down.

“Okay.” You gave her a final kiss before you moved down her body, kissing her stomach on the way down. You licked slowly.

“Fuck.” She pushed your head further in between her legs, rocking herself on your tongue. Once again it took her a while to come, clearly too sensitive. You could feel your cunt throbbing, needing to be touched.

Your jaw began to ache from how long you had been eating her out. She pulled your hair hard, your eyes closed from the pain, she sometimes didn't realise how rough she was being. You wondered if Mapi was ever this rough. You could feel your underwear becoming uncomfortably wet. Finally, you could tell she was close, she started to grip your head tight, it was painful, but before you could stop her, her hips bucked into your face. You groaned as she pushed you further into her core. It was almost hard to breathe.

“Fuck, suck it. Suck it. Yes, just like that. Such a slut” She gripped at your head, not letting you move an inch as you sucked on her clit.

Her legs started to shake. You felt her wetness start to enter your mouth. Her thighs clamped your head. She kept you how she wanted you, her hips grinding into your face. You swallowed her juices. As she let out a groan. You tried to move your head away to breathe but she pulled you back.

“I didn't say stop, keep going”

Your lips wrapped back around her clit.

“Do it gently. Swallow.” She gripped your neck.

You stayed there like she demanded. Finally she let go.

“So good.” She husked out.

You lied next to her, catching your breath. “Yeah?”

She sat up, groaning from the pleasure. “Yeah. I needed that. I'm going to get in the shower.”

“Oh?”

“What?”

“Nothing, I just.. I thought we could carry on? I wa- I really want you Frankie.” You smiled, hoping she would get the hint.

“I’m tired.”

“Okay. It’s just that, it's been a while since you kind of touched me like that. I just miss you.”

She rolled her eyes already annoyed. “I’m tired.”

“No, I get that. I just wanted t-,”

“God, can’t you just give me a break. I don’t want to. Don’t try to make me feel bad because I’m tired.”

This was the third time you had mentioned it. Frankie hadn’t touched you in 6 weeks. You tried to ask her what was wrong. If there was a reason she didn't want to touch you, if it was something she needed to talk about, but everytime she just brushed it off and blamed work.

You already couldn't be asked to argue. You would just take care of yourself. Again.

“Okay.” You looked away, not able to look at your girlfriend, worried she would see your pain.

“Ergh. I’m going to mine. Thanks for ruining a good moment.”

“No, Frankie don’t.” You begged.

“No. You’ve pissed me off.” She quickly put her clothes on and left. Slamming the door behind her.

You flinched from the slam. You felt the tears prick at your eyes. Then the hot tears ran down your cheeks. You felt numb. Frankie had been arguing with you more and more lately. Snapping at you for small things, arguing over nothing. And now she wasn't touching you. You felt ugly, unwanted.

You definitely didn’t feel horny anymore. You took yourself to the bathroom and had a long hot shower, you had your dinner and scrolled through Netflix to watch a movie. It had become a routine at this point, doing this alone after an argument with Frankie. Half way through you got a text, you ignored the giddy feeling you felt when you saw it was from her. You looked at your phone to see Mapi’s name on your screen, you couldn't stop the stupid smile that appeared on your face.

It was a picture of her cat dressed up in a cowboy hat. She told you about the purchase she had got for her pet. You didn't believe her, but here it was picture proof. You replied.

Mapi - Picture sent

You - she doesn't look too impressed.

Mapi - ignore her, she always looks that way. She loves it

You laughed, shaking your head at the Spaniards' antics. Another text came through.

Mapi - I'm going to the ‘Blue Cherry' tomorrow, wanna come?

You bit your lip in thought. You had no plans tomorrow. Frankie was away, and if it was anything like her trip before you didnt get to speak to her once. So, yeah why not. It had been ages since you had a night out.

You - Yes! I’ll be there 🎉

That stupid goofy smile grew on your face once more. Mapi always had a way of making you smile, or feel special, even something as simple as wanting you to go out with her and her friends. You found yourself looking over her instagram page, again. You smiled as you looked over the now familiar pictures. You scrolled down to the very familiar picture of Mapi sitting on a rock in her bikini. The girl's body was unreal. You felt a little bad that you lingard on the photo, learing at your friend. But you had been so worked up from earlier, your body was basically on the edge of exploding.

Your mind drifted to your memories of today. You could still feel the weight of Mapi’s body pressing against your own. You could see the curve of her pink lips smirking at you, the way she always did when she was messing with you. Her lips had become a common thought in your mind, you had wondered how her lips would feel on your own, or how her tongue would feel if it were to trace down your stomach. Followed by gentle kisses.

And suddenly that hornyness returned.

Your hand slowly descended down your stomach, your fingertips traced small lines on your exposed skin, just teasing yourself with the thought. Recently you had been doing this more and more.

You slipped your hand down your pj shorts. You weren't shocked at just how wet you already were. You tried to put it down to you pleasuring Frankie, but you knew deep down it wasn't because of that, not right now.

You dipped your finger past your lips and just below your clit, finding your essence already dripping. You gathered the juices on your finger tips and brought it straight to your clit. You let out a small hiss. You were past sensitive. It almost hurt to touch yourself, you weren't sure if it was mental strain or physical.

You bit your lip at feeling the pleasure of finally having some friction on your bundle of nerves, circling your clit just the way you liked. You couldn't stop the images of today flashing through your mind, you could see Mapi in front of you, you could feel the shape of her body pressing against yours, your fingers picked up the pace.

You could see her brown eyes looking at you, her lips smirking at you. Your imagination got the better of you when you pictured Mapis' hand in place of your own, touching you, pressing your clit lightly. Her smirk became wider as she felt you becoming wetter.

“You want me, don’t you?” You imagined her voice.

You nodded. Even an imaginary Mapi knew you wanted her. Your hips started to grind into your own hand. You imagined her fingers touching you, her eyes watching you. You then imagined the girl in front of you, in your home, pulling your pjs shorts down, her brown eyes staring between your legs, licking her lips.

You started to get rougher with your touches, needing Mapi more and more. You imagined her tattooed hand reaching between your thighs, stroking your skin, teasing you as she got closer to your core. You imagined her gentle touch as she finally got to your clit, rubbing tight circles on your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“You like it, princesa?” Her imaginary voice asked.

You nodded. You could feel your orgasm rising. Mapi invaded your mind, her freckles, her smile, her laugh, the way she smelt, the way she talked, the way her eyes watched you when she thought you weren't looking. She filled your mind with everything that was her, your legs began to shake as her imaginary fingers brought you closer to your orgasm.

You imagined her lips tracing your neck, sucking gently on your skin. You gasped as you felt your climax start to take over. Your legs began to shake, your back arched off the sofa as you imagined Mapi kissing you while you came. Your hips bucked into your hand at the aftershocks of your orgasm, your breathing slowly returning to a normal pace.

You laid there, staring at the ceiling, guilt took over for Frankie and Mapi. But before you could think anymore about it a text came through, you looked at your phone to see Mapi replying to your text.

Mapi - Finally!

You let out a loud sigh as your head dropped back on the sofa.

#woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso smut #barca femeni #fcb femení #mapi leon smut #mapi león x reader #mapi león #mapi leon #alternate universe #woso x reader

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astonmartingf · 6 months

Text

CHASE ; MV1

max verstappen x streamer!reader

. . . you find yourself in a predicament between max's request and your conscience, so you ask charles for help in your game of chase with max verstappen

amgf mention of dnf and written portion in at the end. i am capitalizing on the ausgp, which is the same for wyh hahaha

previous: what if we met?

next: call me max verstappen

This was the first race you watched live in a long time. Charles tried to invite you multiple times, the last time you watched was during his debut back in 2018.

You could barely remember the difference then and now, sitting in the Ferrari garage with other members of the team you situate yourself in the corner, not really knowing what to do.

It was more chaotic than you remember, seeing Max especially going to the pit lane, his wheel burning, leaving a trail of smoke for every garage to see. It alarmed you a little bit, but hearing his voice through the radio, calmed you down.

You meet his gaze as he walks by the Ferrari garage, probably on the way back to their motorhome, or the media pen. Charles gave you a tour of the track at the start of the weekend, but you still find yourself getting lost in the middle of Albert Park.

You flash him a small smile, followed by a wave which he returned. He must be not in the mood to talk, knowing the situation that happened, it caused them the gap to tighten between drivers.

As Charles' friend it definitely filled you with hope knowing that he might have a chance to pull some points to get ahead of the championship ranks.

But as someone who recently knew more about Max, it was definitely an unfortunate moment for him. You watch the screen as they interview Max regarding what happened with his car.

You stare at the screen, fully realizing then that this is the first time you two met outside the shared video games you played together.

As much as you tried to keep your cool alongside Charles' insistent teasing, you admit that you're nervous forming a conversation with him.

Just like after the second practice session, they planned to eat dinner together. Obviously you came with Charles, but what you didn't expect was for Max to be there as well. And safe to say it wasn't the same as your conversations online.

You remember Charles recalling your conversation with him word for word the whole night, teasing your awkwardness.

And in his words, he thinks, "it's cute that you're both awkward together, like two little nerds catching feelings for each other"

How appalling. And the day before the race when you bumped into Max, who happily helped you on your way back to the Ferrari motorhome. Which led to even more incessant teasing from Charles, you don't understand how Max keeps his cool whenever Charles keeps making fun not just of you but of him as well.

Maybe he's more used to Charles, they did race each other for a long time. But that's a story for another time, it's the first time you saw both of them and it seems like the fans are right when they say they sense chemistry between those two.

Your phone pings, receiving a message from Max.

Max the Builder: You want to go out on a little walk for a while?

YN: Where are you?

Max the Builder: I'll meet you at the back of the Ferrari garage.

You look around, everyone's eyes are glued to the screen watching Carlos and Charles closely. Glancing back and forth to the screens on the garage and your phone, you make your way behind the exit, where Max stood waiting for you.

"Have you been waiting for a while?" You watch Max jump, catching him off guard as he whips his head in your direction.

"I just got out of interviews, I'm free for the rest of the race. Want to spend it with me?" There he goes again asking you those questions, you know he speaks out of malice, but his genuine expression makes it hard to say no to him.

Before you could reply, you feel that Max has sensed your hesitance, thinking where he got things wrong again, immediately cutting off your reply. "But if you want to watch Charles we can do that as well. Or you just don't want to hang out with me?"

A soft gasp left your lips, quickly shaking your head left and right, "Max, you know that's not true. But I guess you could say I was avoiding you for the last day..."

Max tilts his head before nodding slowly, trying to hide the evident disappointment in his face, "So that wasn't me just overthinking it... You were purposefully avoiding me?"

"Not like that Max, I guess I was just overthinking as well. We've only talked online until now. I guess I got intimidated seeing you in real life, because we're not on Minecraft? Maybe I just got used to that, hence I kept avoiding you."

Max thinks in silence before raising his finger, "If you're uncomfortable talking at the moment we can play Minecraft and talk there?"

His suggestion catches you off guard, "What? No, we don't have to play Minecraft just to talk silly. That is a good idea Max, but I think we just need more conversations outside discord. My name is YN LN, nice to meet you." Extending your hand in front of him, which he happily shook back.

"Hello YN, I am Max Verstappen. I guess now I won't have to chase after you yeah?"

You laugh, shaking your head disagreeing, "You can't just tease me immediately Max, then I'll have to run away again."

Max shrugs putting his hands in his pocket, feeling more comfortable and finding the flow in your conversations, just like you did back on Discord.

"Well, run all you want, I'll have to let you know— I'm known for being fast."

You nod your head playing along, it's seems like the grooves have connected, like gears shifting in connection. "Well, your engine seems to disagree."

You watch Max' face freeze, "Too early?" your thoughts buzz around, thinking how you messed up the conversation in less than a minute.

A record breaking time.

But your worries halt hearing the sound of Max' laughing at your statement. "That's a good one YN, you're catching up quick."

This time it was your turn to shrug your shoulders, "What can I say, I learned from the best." bumping your shoulders into him.

You walk with Max as the race comes to a close, feeling confident and content as your friendship with him grows.

amgf i think there's one final chapter, the twitch stream hahahaha max is getting desperate but i would too

amgf ★ superstars: @namgification @lpab @the-untamed-soul @xjval

#f1 smau #f1 x reader #f1 fluff #max verstappen smau #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fluff

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read-marx-and-lenin · 16 days

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I’m following the DPRK debates (or trying to at least) but ultimately I’m struggling to understand how to glorify a nation that impedes so heavily on its citizen’s human rights, any insight?

Two things:

First, you shouldn't be trying to glorify anything. You should be trying to understand things and separating truth from fiction.

Second, in that vein, you should be seriously questioning what is being said about the DPRK and why. The US and its allies have a vested interest in ensuring that any socialist project fails, and when they are unable to cause a real failure, they work to make the public believe that it has failed anyway.

The two main sources of the most egregious human rights violations are defector testimony and US/ROK intelligence. If you've been following what I've posted about the DPRK on this blog then you should already know the problems with defector testimony (you can watch this short documentary if you want to know more about that and hear from a few former DPRK residents who rebut many typical defector narratives,) but suffice it to say that the ROK actively pays defectors to make false and scripted statements in the South Korean media, and those who do not go along with the ROK government narrative or who actively contradict it are censored and even face prison time.

Meanwhile, Western intelligence is inherently unverifiable. The best you're going to get is a satellite photo with a building labeled "torture facility" as if we're supposed to look at a roof and be like "uh-huh, that looks like a torture facility to me". US and ROK intelligence officials can and do say whatever they like, but at the end of the day they are the direct enemies of the DPRK and their claims cannot be trusted.

The two Korean governments are still at war; they have never signed a peace treaty. Their conduct must be viewed first and foremost in this context. Both the ROK and the DPRK block movement of people across the DMZ. Both the ROK and the DPRK prevent the dissemination of information coming from each other's nations. Both the ROK and the DPRK surveil their citizens and place controls on the media. Both the ROK and the DPRK place limits on political and cultural activity. The ROK acts to suppress anti-capitalist movements and protect the capitalist way of life, and the DPRK acts to suppress anti-socialist movements and protect the socialist way of life, as both sides view their own political and economic systems as vital to the protection of human rights. On any of these grounds, you cannot fault one side without faulting the other, which is why Western media often opts instead to focus on the more exaggerated and unverifiable claims except when explicitly advocating in favor of capitalism over socialism.

Finally, there is the issue of contradictory ideas of human rights. The capitalist West will insist time and time again that the right to private property is a basic human right, while avoiding or even denying the idea of a right to food, shelter, clothing, healthcare, etc. as a basic human right. To the West, a landlord's right to evict a tenant is inviolable. To the West, denying a person shelter is more of a human right than granting them shelter. The opposite is true in socialist nations such as the DPRK. That the DPRK holds different values as human rights does not then mean that the DPRK is some terrible oppressive violator of human rights. The right to be a capitalist should not be considered a human right. The right to be a saboteur should not be considered a human right.

The DPRK Association for Human Rights Studies, a non-governmental organization in Pyongyang, published a report in 2014 on human rights from the perspective of the DPRK, outlining their objections to US-led international human rights standards and the progress being made in the DPRK towards guaranteeing human rights. You can call it propaganda if you like, but if you do not even look at the statements coming out of the DPRK, how can you have a rounded view of the situation?

Had the DPRK not succeeded in withstanding the attacks against it, had it managed to become subjugated by the US and other imperialist forces, I do not think we could then say that human rights in North Korea would have been secured and safeguarded. The poverty and inequality that the proletariat of South Korea are afflicted with today would have become the norm across the whole peninsula. Even if you believe that human rights are violated today in the DPRK, you must at least admit that the victory of the US and its puppet government in the South cannot be a means of combating any alleged human rights violations in the North.

#communism #socialism #leftism #anti capitalism #anti imperialism #dprk #north korea

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heritageposts · 2 years

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how do i start to read marxist leninist/leftist stuff ? i searched on the internet but it’s super confusing lol

the most important value for me as an ML is anti-imperialism, so i guess i'll always recommend that people start with works centred on that

some suggestions below (all books should be available either on marxist.org or as pdf/epub files on libgen)

American Holocaust by David E. Stannard

about the colonization of america. not explicitly marxist, but it's probably done more to radicalize me than any other piece of writing. this is the pile of corpses capitalism is built on:

Within no more than a handful of generations following their first en counters with Europeans, the vast majority of the Western Hemisphere's native peoples had been exterminated. The pace and magnitude of their obliteration varied from place to place and from time to time, but for years now historical demographers have been uncovering, in region upon region, post-Columbian depopulation rates of between 90 and 98 percent with such regularity that an overall decline of 95 percent has become a working rule of thumb. What this means is that, on average, for every twenty natives alive at the moment of European contact-when the lands of the Americas teemed with numerous tens of millions of people-only one stood in their place when the bloodbath was over. To put this in a contemporary context, the ratio of native survivorship in the Americas following European contact was less than half of what the human survivorship ratio would be in the United States today if every single white person and every single black person died. The destruction of the Indians of the Americas was, far and away, the most massive act of genocide in the history of the world. That is why, as one historian aptly has said, far from the heroic and romantic heraldry that customarily is used to symbolize the European settlement of the Americas, the emblem most congruent with reality would be a pyramid of skulls. - David E. Stannard

2. Imperialism: The Highest Stage of Capitalism by Vladimir Lenin

Imperialism is capitalism at that stage of development at which the dominance of monopolies and finance capital is established; in which the export of capital has acquired pronounced importance; in which the division of the world among the international trusts has begun, in which the division of all territories of the globe among the biggest capitalist powers has been completed. - Vladimir Lenin

3. The Wretched of The Earth by Franz Fanon

Let us look at ourselves, if we can bear to, and see what is becoming of us. First, we must face that unexpected revelation, the strip-tease of our humanism. There you can see it, quite naked, and it’s not a pretty sight. It was nothing but an ideology of lies, a perfect justification for pillage; its honeyed words, its affectation of sensibility were only alibis for our aggressions. A fine sight they are too, the believers in non-violence, saying that they are neither executioners nor victims. Very well then; if you’re not victims when the government which you’ve voted for, when the army in which your younger brothers are serving without hesitation or remorse have undertaken race murder, you are, without a shadow of doubt, executioners. And if you chose to be victims and to risk being put in prison for a day or two, you are simply choosing to pull your irons out of the fire. But you will not be able to pull them out; they’ll have to stay there till the end. Try to understand this at any rate: if violence began this very evening and if exploitation and oppression had never existed on the earth, perhaps the slogans of non-violence might end the quarrel. But if the whole regime, even your non-violent ideas, are conditioned by a thousand-year-old oppression, your passivity serves only to place you in the ranks of the oppressors. - prefrace by Jean-Paul Sartre

4. Discourse on Colonialism by Aimé Césaire

Yes, it would be worthwhile to study clinically, in detail, the steps taken by Hitler and Hitlerism and to reveal to the very distinguished, very humanistic, very Christian bourgeois of the twentieth century that without his being aware of it, he has a Hitler inside him, that Hitler inhabits him, that Hitler is his demon, that if he rails against him, he is being inconsistent and that, at bottom, what he cannot forgive Hitler for is not crime in itself, the crime against man, it is not the humiliation of man as such, it is the crime against the white man, the humiliation of the white man, and the fact that he applied to Europe colonialist procedures which until then had been reserved exclusively for the Arabs of Algeria, the coolies of India, and the blacks of Africa I have talked a good deal about Hitler. Because he deserves it: he makes it possible to see things on a large scale and to grasp the fact that capitalist society, at its present stage, is incapable of establishing a concept of the rights of all men, just as it has proved incapable of establishing a system of individual ethics. Whether one likes it or not, at the end of the blind alley that is Europe, I mean the Europe of Adenauer, Schuman, Bidault, and a few others, there is Hitler. At the end of capitalism, which is eager to outlive its day, there is Hitler. At the end of formal humanism and philosophicrenunciation, there is Hitler - Aimé Césaire

5. Blackshirts and Reds: Rational Fascism and the Overthrow of Communism by Michael Parenti

probably the most accessible introduction to communism that doesn't demonize countries that have undergone—or attempted to undergo—a transitation into socalism (like the ussr, cuba, etc.)

The very concept of "revolutionary violence" is somewhat falsely cast, since most of the violence comes from those who attempt to prevent reform, not from those struggling for reform. By focusing on the violent rebellions of the downtrodden, we overlook the much greater repressive force and violence utilized by the ruling oligarchs to maintain the status quo, including armed attacks against peaceful demonstrations, mass arrests, torture, destruction of opposition organizations, suppression of dissident publications, death squad assassinations, the extermination of whole villages, and the like. - Michael Parenti

#i'm too lazy to write an introduction for all of them #but i've included some quotes #get reading sickos #this is now on the tumblr university curriculum

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hisui-dreamer · 7 months

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Can I have orange blossoms with jade leech for eternal love and marriage please? Thankyou!

is it love or just really nice flowers?

Pairing: Jade Leech x gn!reader

Synopsis: jade likes giving you flowers, it probably doesn't mean anything special though... right?

Tags: fluff, pining, slowish burn, eels are cowards, mentions of marriage, reader likes flowers

Word count: 1.2k+

Notes: thank you for requesting anon!! i had a lot of fun squealing when writing this one hehe

Masterlist

flower of choice: orange blossoms

orange blossoms symbolise eternal love and marriage, and they are often used in wedding ceremonies as symbols of purity and eternal love

You suppose it all started on your first Valentine’s Day in Twisted Wonderland.

As a member of the Mostro Lounge staff, you found yourself amidst the bustling atmosphere of the Mostro Lounge, where Azul's ambitious plans to capitalize on the love-filled holiday were in full swing. The lounge pulsated with the presence of couples occupying every available table.

Soft, dim lighting cast a warm glow over the space, enveloping everything in an air of intimacy and mystery. The gentle hum of conversation and laughter filled the air, mingling with the smooth melodies of jazz music drifting from hidden speakers.

Couples nestled into plush velvet booths, their faces illuminated by the soft light, lost in each other's eyes and whispers. Waiters moved gracefully between tables, delivering trays adorned with exotic beverages and plates of delectable meals, their steps silent against the plush carpeting.

But what caught your eye the most were the bouquets given to significant others, adorning the tables like precious jewels. Each one was a masterpiece in its own right, meticulously selected and arranged to convey the deepest sentiments of adoration.

"It must be nice receiving flowers…" you murmured to yourself, lost in thought.

“You would like to receive flowers?”

You snapped your head around at the sound of Jade's voice, finding him with a curious expression on his face. Surprise flickered in your eyes at his question, but a smile bloomed on your lips as you considered receiving flowers from someone.

“Yeah," you replied, a hint of longing in your voice, "who wouldn't? Receiving gifts makes you feel so appreciated. Plus, who wouldn't be happy looking at something pretty?"

Jade took a moment to mull over your words, his gaze thoughtful. Eventually, he nodded in agreement. "Hmm… I see. That does sound quite lovely," he acknowledged.

The conversation was quickly cut short when new orders and tasks arrived. In the whirlwind of never-ending tasks, the conversation had slipped from your mind almost entirely, until he appeared later that week, returning from a hiking trip with a delightful surprise in tow.

"Here, Prefect," he began, his voice gentle as he produced a bouquet of orange blossoms from behind his back. "These are for you," he offered with a soft smile.

The bouquet was a sight to behold, a delicate ensemble of ivory-hued blooms that exuded an ethereal beauty. Each flower boasted star-shaped petals, arranged in a symmetrical fashion around a central cluster of stamens. These stamens, adorned with tips of yellow to orange hues, stood out like tiny flames amidst the pristine white petals, adding a touch of vibrant colour to the otherwise pure palette. With their intricate details and subtle fragrance, the orange blossoms seemed to radiate a quiet elegance, captivating all who beheld their serene charm.

You couldn't help but notice the faintest flush of pink tinting his ears, and your own heart skipped a beat in response. You were well aware of the symbolism behind orange blossoms—eternal love and marriage. But surely, Jade couldn't mean that, could he?

"You brought these for me?" you asked, a mix of surprise and delight colouring your tone.

Jade nodded, a warmth spreading through him at your delight. "Yes, I thought you might like them," he admitted softly.

As you accepted the bouquet, a rush of emotions flooded over you. The delicate scent of the orange blossoms enveloped you, filling your senses with a sweet, intoxicating aroma. Mesmerized, you found yourself unable to look away from the vibrant blooms, each one a masterpiece of nature, without a single flaw in sight.

Jade's gaze remained fixed on yours, his expression tender and sincere. It was as though he was studying your reaction with unwavering attention, and a flutter of anticipation stirred in your chest at the vulnerability he revealed.

"Thank you, Jade," you said, your voice barely above a whisper but filled with sincerity. "These are beautiful."

A relieved smile spread across Jade's face, his eyes alight with a mixture of joy and relief. "I'm glad you like them," he murmured, his voice tinged with warmth.

Though you’re not sure why, Jade had made it a habit to always bring back a bouquet of orange blossoms for you from his hiking trips.

"It doesn't really bother me," he'd say with a closed-eye smile, "since it's on the way."

Each time he presented you with the blooms, your heart fluttered with joy. Yet, you hesitated to believe there were underlying intentions behind his gift. After all, Jade had always been kind to you, and you couldn't fathom the idea of him harbouring romantic feelings.

As the end of his third year at NRC approached, a bittersweet anticipation filled the air. The impending farewell weighed heavy on your heart, mingling with a sense of melancholy. Although Jade promised to visit during breaks and holidays, the thought of no longer seeing him every day stung with loneliness.

Summer break was nearing, and the campus was buzzing with students bidding farewells and exchanging hugs. Amidst the flurry of goodbyes, Jade sought you out, as he always did, with a bouquet of orange blossoms cradled in his arms. His smile was tinged with a hint of sadness as he approached you, and you felt a lump form in your throat at the sight of him.

"These are for you," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper as he handed the flowers to you.

You accepted the bouquet with trembling hands, the weight of the moment settling heavily upon you. The sweet fragrance of the orange blossoms enveloped you like a comforting embrace, but it did little to dispel the sorrow that threatened to consume you.

"Thank you, Jade," you managed to say, your voice choked with emotion.

“I... I don’t wish for this to be the last time I give you flowers,” he confessed softly, his eyes searching yours with earnest sincerity. “Will you really not consider marriage with me?"

A heavy silence hung between you, each moment feeling weighted with unspoken words and unexpressed feelings. Then, Jade reached out to cup your cheek, guiding your gaze to meet his.

Caught off guard by his heartfelt plea, your eyes widened in astonishment. "Jade, I... I never realized... You…"

"But you knew, didn't you? You must have..." Jade's voice trembled with vulnerability. "Every flower, every gesture—it was all for you."

Your mind raced, memories flashing before your eyes like a vivid tapestry woven from moments shared together. Each bouquet, each flower—he had poured his heart into every gesture, his feelings hidden in plain sight all along.

Tears shimmered in your eyes as understanding washed over you like a gentle wave crashing upon the shore. The pieces of the puzzle fell into place, and you realized the depth of his devotion, the sincerity of his love.

“Yes, Jade," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath but filled with certainty. "Yes, a thousand times, yes."

The next thing you know, his lips are pressed against yours in a tender, passionate embrace. In that fleeting moment, the world around you faded into insignificance, leaving only the warmth of his touch, the sweetness of his kiss, and the promise of a love that would endure through every trial and triumph.

Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

#jade “oh prefect likes flowers they can understand what im trying to convey... right?” leech #hehehe lovesick silly eel who does everything except confess is my favourite #✧2k! blossoming bouquets✦#twstnexus #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland jade #twisted wonderland jade leech #jade leech #jade leech x reader #twst jade #twst jade x reader #twst jade leech #twst jade leech x reader

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celestemona · 1 year

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WHERE YOU’RE HIS BELOVED S/O

but you keep more than a card up your sleeve

pairing: lyney x fem witch! reader

reblogs and comments are appreciated ♡

if you ask Lynette who fell in love first and who fell harder between you and Lyney, she wouldn't even hesitate to point to her twin as the answer to both questions.

the first time you and Lyney met was during one of his public performances where after you caught his eye, he asked you to be his special guest during the show.

truth to be told, he had noticed you even before you approached the crowd surrounding him, and how could he not? you weren't just a pretty new face roaming around the hydro capital, but it was your charming aura that made all heads turn towards you that aroused his curiosity.

from Lyney's point of view, you were fascinating.

and that's why, taking the opportunity to approach and perhaps get to know you better, the magician shamelessly chose you among the dozens of people as an excuse to put his plans into practice.

the chosen act couldn’t be as simple as a deck of cards trick could be. you were instructed by the young magician to choose a card among the dozens offered, memorize it and put it back in the deck.

“this time, however, i propose that we do something different”, suggested the young man. Lynette eyed him suspiciously.

“oh yes?”, you smiled sweetly and Lyney almost found himself losing his composure, “what do you propose, monsieur?”

Lyney coughed, “the person in charge of shuffling the deck won't be me but my lovely assistant, Lynette!”

the younger twin sighed. although as his assistant the girl didn't mind being in the spotlight as long as her brother was the star of the show, Lynette didn't like the spontaneous acts her brother suggested especially knowing that it was merely to impress someone — a girl. you.

even so, she agreed and approached you, the audience only growing and the euphoria of each spectator vibrating with an energy of anticipation and expectation.

“besides, i’m somewhat confident that i’ll have your card. as a reward for my success i humbly propose a dinner for two, belle. on me, of course”. the crowd whistled and you stared at him with a twinkle in your eye.

“do your best then, darling”

Lyney, blinking excitedly and determinedly in your direction, offered the deck to his sister and walked away.

it only took a few seconds for the anemo girl to shuffle the fifty-two cards and another few seconds for you to choose yours.

Lynette not only return to shuffled the cards again as quickly as the eye could follow, but in the middle of the process she played a brief solo by throwing them in the air in which the entire deck turned to white petals, leaving only one card behind which Lyney deftly caught between his index and middle fingers. it was an exciting act and the crowd roared with excitement.

“very well, belle. i have your card in my domain. i hope you are as excited for our dinner as i am,” the magician declared revealing its front.

you watched him silently for a few seconds before smiling.

“oh my dear, it was an amazing performance i must admit. but… that's not my card”, you laughed mockingly.

Lyney stared at you confused, “impossible. i know you chose the seven of clubs.”

raising an eyebrow you said, “do you really think so? see it for yourself.”

and Lyney did, only to stare dumbfounded the queen of hearts who stared back at him.

to say you took everyone there by surprise would be an understatement. even Lynette herself who was known for rarely expressing her emotions couldn't hide the gleam of shock, and perhaps even a hint of humor, in her purple eyes. it was the first time anyone had managed to cheat the famous prince of cheats and it was uncertain for the twins to say what they felt about it.

after that, the show ended as no one understood how the professional magician had his trick broken and not even Lyney had the heart to continue the show.

one by one left until only the three of you stand there.

“well… that was unexpected i must say,” the young man nervously scratched his tear-marked cheek, “this has never happened before so i’m surprised.”

“you did well”, you praised.

“thank you belle, your words comfort me. however, i believe i need to practice again,” Lyney declared with a defeated sigh. Lynette looked at him sympathetically.

even if his statement was true, the magician still wondered what the chances were that he was mistaken during the performance. after all, he couldn't say he was rusty either when he's done the act more times than he could remember, therefore the muscular and psychological movements were as automatic to him as breathing.

moreover, he felt ashamed that not only had he been mistaken in front of so many people, but also for the “invitation” that he had done to you.

“i also apologize if i ever made you uncomfortable”, he smiled shyly “i don't think that dinner will happen anyways.”

after long minutes in silence you faked a melancholy sigh.

“that’s pity. i really was looking forward to sharing a glass of champagne with you,” you said.

“yes, a pity- wait, what... really? like really really?”

you laughed and this time the sound of your laughter was so melodious that the magician didn't even hold back the flush that rose hot from his neck to his cheeks.

“why, of course. there are few men or women who have managed to approach me so confidently and then ask me out without further ado,” you winked at him, “however, to our chagrin, i’m a woman of words. you missed the proposal so you missed our little date,” you smirked, Lyney swallowed hard.

“fair enough.”

“i hope i get to see more of your shows though, darling,” you say as you approach him, “i’m looking forward to finding out what else you hide up your sleeve. if you know what i wanna mean."

and with a bittersweet farewell, you disappeared among the Fontanian citizens, leaving a pair of twins behind with the eldest of them too confused to even think of anything to say.

“apparently you didn't fail at all this time,” Lynette commented, “what does she mean by finding out what you hide up your sleeve?”

“i have no idea, dear sister. the only thing i can tell you right now is that i am deeply in love,” the magician declared with a dreamy look on his face as his sister stared at him blankly. Lynette, having no desire to deal with her older brother's ramblings, walked away to start cleaning up the place.

it was only minutes later when Lyney had already joined his sister that the boy felt a slight discomfort in his covered right arm, as if an unknown object scratch the skin there every time he moved.

curiosity and annoyance caused him to roll up his sleeve only to be replaced by shock, confusion and a faint hint of anticipation.

there in his hand, a seven of clubs was mockingly displayed, but what really got the magician's heart racing was the message stamped in black and the imprint of the bright red lipstick you wore.

“you had my card, you just didn't know where to look for.

p.s. i'll be waiting for you tomorrow’s evening next to Hotel Debord. dinner is on me.”

needless to say that after that trick of yours Lyney just fell more in love with you.

the date couldn't have been more than perfect either, even if during all hours you were together, the magician found himself cornered by your charm and stuttering when you dazzled that cheeky smile that seemed to be characteristic of you. it was rewarding for him to finally have your name even though you refused to give him more information like “what trick did you use to have the card suddenly appear up his sleeve”.

“you have your secrets and i have mine, darling,” you replied.

after that, Lyney gave up on it and didn't ask about the subject anymore, preferring to spend the seconds he had left enjoying your presence and eliciting harmonious laughter from your lips at the expense of his nervousness.

and thanks to the gigantic compatibility between the two of you, there was a second, third and even a fourth date.

however, it wasn't until one of the dozens of nights you spent together that you finally revealed your abilities with spells and arithmancy through witchcraft — making Lyney finally understanding the reason why you seemed to know more than you let on, or how all his tricks seemed like just child’s pranks.

although he superficially understood the concept of it, the magician only grew more and more fascinated by you, his own heart warming as you lovingly explained the function of your abilities.

“chérie, you are without a doubt the most amazing woman i’ve ever been lucky enough to meet,” Lyney remarked after watching you create a small blue flame from water droplets in the air, “i seem to have gotten lucky in my numerology. without it i wouldn’t have the happiness of meeting the most beautiful, intelligent and talented woman in all of Teyvat.”

you blushed slightly.

“don't be fooled, Lyney. you are as amazing as i am.”

Lyney narrowed his eyes cheekily and glared at you, “oh yeah, belle? tell me why then, because only one of us here has the power to conjure up fascinating things just by reciting a few words.”

you smiled genuinely and looked him deep in his eyes. it wasn't even a surprise for you to find yourself thinking about the magician more times than you could count and looking forward to your dates. Lyney was nothing but one of the most genuine, charming and passionate person you’ve ever met. you loved every second in his presence and weren't ashamed to admit that you were counting down the seconds to go to the next step between you and him.

“well, only those who understand and respect human nature and everything around us can perform magic, dear. be it a spell or just an illusionary trick,” you explained, “and you perform your magic so well merely for the purpose of bringing happiness and smiles to your spectators. to me, there is nothing as noble as that.”

you took his hand in your and intertwined your fingers.

“i— um… damn, (Y/N). you never fail to leave me speechless, do you?” Lyney stuttered while stared at your hands together.

“only doing my job which is to exalt the work of the guy i like.”

Lyney stared at you wide-eyed and open-mouthed, his heart pounding so loud it felt like it was going to burst out of his chest. if he had been standing up, he would surely have passed out by now on the lawn.

“i like you too. a lot,” he finally confessed and you smiled happily.

leaning slowly towards him you placed a peck on his lips only making Lyney's blush redder than it had been seconds before.

“i know, my love. you're not very subtle about it, which i think is incredibly cute.”

and it was that night, under the gaze of the moon and stars, between kisses and caresses, that you made your relationship official.

now, if you ask Lynette if anything has changed since your first meeting to the current state of your relationship with her brother, the girl would deny it. so far you were a unique yet happy and healthy couple, and even if she didn't show it, she was happy that her twin brother had finally found someone who could fit him as much as she once did.

even if Lyney became an unbearably passionate and romantic fool in your presence, she couldn't have been lucky enough to have a better sister-in-law than you.

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #lyney #lyney x reader

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bigboysteveharrington · 2 years

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Steve lowkey earning himself a reputation for liking guys and girls before he even realizes he does because he keeps interjecting and giving his own answer every time someone tries to ask Robin about guys

At first no one thinks anything of Steve’s interruption and answer when Nancy asks “what even is your type?” quite clearly to Robin and Steve immediately answers “I like girls that are way smarter than me” and everyone just assumes he’s interrupting to hit on Nancy and not to deflect

Then later someone insists some guy was flirting with Robin and she should go for it and Steve immediately goes “Are you kidding me? Robin’s way out of his league. Besides, I had a class with him and he mentioned his stamp collection in it like eight times. Do you really think she wants to sit around and pretend to be impressed by hundreds of stamps?” Still no one thinks much of it yet and if anything they think Steve might be jealous or might just have standards for who they should set her up with

It’s not until it becomes a habit of him answering questions meant for Robin that people start to think there’s a reason, but it’s not Robin they’re onto

Like when they’re having a movie night and Max is going on and on about a shirtless character while Lucas is totally unfazed but Dustin complains and El says which character she liked more and then Max turns to Nancy to break the tie and say which guy is dreamier and Nancy casts her vote, then turns to look over at Robin and ask which guy she’d go for and Steve knows who the question is for but hey he’s sitting right next to Robin so Nancy’s looking in his direction and too and she didn’t say Robin’s name, so Steve doesn’t even hesitate before dropping the name of a character and making sure he keeps the focus off of Robin and keeps everyone distracted from dragging her into that debate by immediately backing it up by saying that Max is right and giving even more reasons to choose him

But even after that, that’s mostly forgotten by the time the older group is drinking and Eddie suggests they play a drinking game and normally Steve would be all over any suggestions, but he turns down truth or dare because he knows how uncomfortable Robin would be and doesn’t want her having to choose between awkwardly lying and deflecting or doing dares she’s not comfortable with or potentially outing herself so he at least manages to change it to never have I ever because that’s a safer bet when he knows Robin hasn’t done anything with any girls

But then Steve ends up drinking significantly more than anyone else while Robin and Eddie are hardly drinking so they end up switching games and somehow they end up playing fuck, marry, kill except Nancy has no interest in getting married or discussing it and she says there’s been enough death in Hawkins and it would be more fun to play with the options as sleep with, kiss, slap. And the game is already started before anyone can ask why marry got changed to kiss and before drunk Steve can figure out how to discretely convince everyone not to. The game goes fine at first with Argyle asking Jonathan about three girls from California. It goes alright when Jonathan asks Eddie about three girls. Steve gets a little concerned when Eddie turns his attention on Nancy that he’ll put Jonathan and him in the list right in front of Jonathan, but Eddie is sober enough still that he at least has enough tact not stir the pot and blow things up on her first turn by throwing them both in in front of them

But then Nancy goes to give Robin a turn and she’s looking right at her and lists the three guys there other than Steve (possibly because she believes Robin on the platonic with a capital P thing and possibly because she doesn’t want to find out if that would waver) so of course Nancy thinks it’s clear that she must be talking to the only other girl there. And before Robin can even try to think of what lie would be the most convincing and least likely to start any awkwardness or drama, Steve’s already jumping in with “Well, I already hit Jonathan and that didn’t go well for me, so I’ll give him a break. And this situation” (gesturing between himself and Nancy and Jonathan) “is finally starting to feel normal so I don’t need to make that awkward all over again by sleeping with your boyfriend. So kiss Jonathan.” And Nancy and Jonathan are looking at him so confused and Robin is grateful for the interruption and relieved but also kind of amused by the level of thought he’s putting into it instead of just throwing out names however. Argyle’s not fazed at all and just waiting to see what he’ll get. Eddie goes from deer in the headlights startled to leaning forward with his elbow on his knee and his chin resting in his hand waiting to see where this will go to abruptly sitting up again and trying to look less interested while his leg nervous bounces and he tries to figure out if Steve is giving a detailed answer to this as a joke or because he’s putting genuine thought into the idea of being with a guy

Steve looks between Eddie and Argyle for a moment, then focuses on Argyle and is like “Sorry, I hardly know you and getting dragged into hitting Eddie or standing around and watching Tommy do it without making any move to stop him is exactly the kind of douchebag bullshit I would have pulled in high school. So I guess slap you and have sex with Eddie.” Eddie’s drink goes down the wrong way when Steve adds “Plus, guitar players are supposed to be good with their hands, right?” and he tries to play it off and not react to the fact that Steve Harrington just said he’d have sex with him and that he thinks Eddie would be good in bed even if it was just in the context of some stupid game. Meanwhile Argyle’s just like “Nah, that’s cool dude. I get it. I would have slapped you too if the roles were reversed.”

After that, a few people start wondering a little more seriously if Steve is into guys too and had his guard down while drinking. But Eddie isn’t going to press his luck without clear evidence and everyone else isn’t going to push it so they just silently wonder a little more every time Steve interjects in the girl talk with his own opinion once again

#Steve later plays a game of FMK with Robin where the options are all girls when it’s just the two of them #I’m sorry but I am not rereading this to check for errors and autocorrects at this hour #I’m just gonna notice things later when I see reblogs and then cringe and edit too late on some other day #Also believe it or not this is a separate idea from the one or two shot I’m going to write at some point where Steve accidentally comes out #before he even knows he’s bi #Stranger Things #ST4 #Spicy Six #Fruity Four #ST #Steddie #Steve Harrington #Robin Buckley #Platonic with a capital P #Eddie Munson #Mine

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fairuzfan · 11 months

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im trying to ask all different kids of accounts bc i can't get one solid answer - how would u specifically define zionist? do you think the people who are currently israelis (and are not west bank settlers, may they all be tried for their crimes) should be able to live in a decolonized palestine?

I had to take a couple of days mostly because I was trying to find a single concise answer for you in a citation. Before I give you a definition of a Zionist, I must first describe what Zionism and it's implications are. Here is Ismail Zayid's "Zionism, the myth and the reality" (click).

The very first couple of paragraphs of the book, he says:

Zionism, as a modern political creed, grew in close association with three interacting major forces which exercised a profound influence on the character and nature of the Zionist movement, resulting in three basic qualities characterizing this movement, namely: settler colonialism, expansionism and racism.

The first of the three major forces was the growth, in the nineteenth century, of European colonialism and imperialism and the expansion of the colonial settler regimes. The alliance made between Zionism and European colonialism is clearly attested to by both sides, identifying reciprocal benefits in the alliance. Herzl, in his "Der Judenstat," expressed clearly both the racist nature of Zionism as well as its role as a settler colonial outpost: "We should, there, form a portion of the rampart of Europe against Asia, an outpost of civilization as opposed to barbarism. We should, as a neutral state, remain in contact with all Europe, which would have to guarantee our existence."

There's more in the book that I can't type up lol, but in essence a Zionist subscribes to the idea of Zionism itself, and insists on the establishment of a settler colonial entity whether passively or actively.

Zionism is a settler colonialist movement, as stated by the founder of the movement for Zionism, Theodore Herzel (quoted above in the smalltext). It modeled itself after much of the European colonialist strategies, enforcing borders and nationalities on a previously border-lose world. I mention the making of borders as a fundamental part of colonialism because by rejection of those borders as a concept, we start to imagine the world in a post-colonial universe. Sherene Seikaly makes this point in her book "Men of Capital" in the introductory chapter:

But in such a search, it is almost inevitable that nationalism—its “lack,” its “strength,” or its “weakness”—will stand as a metonym for politics. In some renditions, the weakness of normative nationalism—a “political deficiency” and a lack of a national “spirit”—resulted in, as the leading historian of collaboration continues to argue, the catastrophe of 1948. In response, scholars have documented a national project among the Palestinians. This work is invaluable and has shifted the terms of debate as well as our understanding of the social and cultural geography of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries in Palestine. However, to continue reveling in the marriage between national consciousness and politics reifies colonial epistemologies. Moving beyond nationalism as both the means and ends of politics is long overdue. Certainly, nationalism was one aspect of subjectivity formation, but it was not the only way to make politics. What I seek to destabilize here is not whether Palestinians were sufficiently national, but to ask why that sufficiency and/or its lack continues to be the measuring stick for whether people can remain on the land they resided on for centuries. Must people’s investment in the random and shifting borders that imperial and colonial officials drew determine their status? Are there other ways to think about politics outside, beside, underneath, and alongside this national prism?

I've said this multiple times before on this blog in different ways, but I'll state outright: I reject the notion of nationalism as a way for us to authenticate Palestinians' claim to the land they've lived on for centuries, as Seikaly mentions. Zionism's core goal is the establishment of such borders is aligned with European colonialism's core goals: division of the world so that they may categorize itself within the world's hierarchy.

Now, the core saying in the Free Palestine movement you often hear is "From the River to the Sea." This, basically, is a rejection of the establishment of those borders as a necessity for the Palestinians to be recognized. Zionism relies on border-making for it to be an actual thing. Without borders, Zionism would not exist. Which is why the "Balfour Declaration," that had essentially districted and redistributed Palestine is often referenced by both Zionists and antiZionists. Balfour, a well known racist and antisemite, had advocated for the establishment of a "Jewish State" not because he really cared what happened to either party — but specifically so that he could get the Jewish people of Europe.... out of Europe.

Seikaly mentions this in "Men of Capital":

However, we should qualify its meaning to get at the specific condition of Palestinian invisibility in colonial epistemologies. Zionists of the late nineteenth century did not imagine that there were no people on the land of Palestine, but rather that they were not a people. Theodor Herzl described a set of caricatures that inhabited what he called the land of Israel: the wealthy effendis who could be had for a price and the remaining impoverished peasants who could be smoothly removed without incident. These people were a motley crew without anything defining or unifying them. Zionists from various political leanings did not share Herzl’s confidence that the people who lived in Palestine would not be attached enough to its land to resist their displacement. However, the Zionist emphasis on the lack of a politically coherent and distinct people in Palestine who deserved to make claims to the land on which they had resided for hundreds of years would continue apace. The caricatures of the effendi and the peasant, as well as the depiction of the Palestinians as insufficiently rooted, continue to have currency. In the meantime, Zionists were hard at work shaping a cohesive settlement community around a new ethno-national understanding of what it meant to be Jewish. They called themselves the Yishuv. Zionism promised Jews who had suffered religious, political, and racial persecution for centuries in Europe that they could finally become European but only by leaving Europe. Anti-Semitism and Zionism had one thing in common: the belief that Jews could never assimilate in Europe. The process of becoming European by realizing a settler colony would be an abundant source of persecution: For the Palestinians it entails ongoing erasure; for the eastern (Mizrahi) Jews who did not fit the Ashkenazi (European) mold, it has meant decades of marginalization; and for the Ashkenazi, it required killing centuries of tradition, language, and culture to fit the template of the new Jew.

So now you know that Zionism is, at it's core the establishment of borders to reinforce itself as a colonialist entity — thereby enforcing a separation between the colonized and the colonizer that can seem material, but is, in fact, immaterial. Zionists are people who ascribe to the ideology that a Settler Colonial "Jewish State" must exist, and that its establishment is necessary for whatever reason, thereby enacting those borders and displacing the indigenous populations. But what does a post-colonialist society look like if we no longer have these regional borders and nationalism as we've come to understand it?

Palestinians argue for the Right to Return to their homes. I have family members that cannot see the places they were born in because they were kicked out and not allowed to return. I think, for these people especially, it's only natural that they be allowed to return.

You ask if people who are currently live in Israel should be able to live in a decolonized Palestine. Short answer: yes. Of course. There is no reason to reject these people who are willing to live in a decolonized Palestine.

Long answer: still yes but I'm going to re contextualize it a little.

We've established that a decolonized Palestine is one in which borders are irrelevant, as is the current version of nationalism, and no need for categorization. In a decolonized Palestine, as long as you are not a perpetrator of a "crime" (I put that in quotations because of the current colonial implications, but I lack a better word for it) that makes you — and not your grandparent/parent — directly responsible for colonization — like as you mention, settlers who violently expelled Palestinians — and willing to participate in a Palestinian society in which there is equality of all peoples regardless of race, ethnicity, economic status, or religion, then it is possible to become Palestinian.

Israelis are all, to a certain extent, culpable in colonization. There are antiZionist Israelis, but nevertheless, it doesn't change the fact that they are settled on land that was acquired violently. Of course, the same can be said for many USAmericans. To a certain extent, I am a settler in Turtle Island despite being a refugee. I willingly participate in a colony, whether I actually agree with it or not.

I think from hereon, to live in Decolonized Palestine as well as a Decolonized Turtle Island, we must make the reparations necessary to the communities who have suffered systematic violence at the hands of the colonial entity to truly live in a post-colonial world. You might be asking how I think that's going to be conducted — I am not sure. But what I do know is that living without borders — or in other words living without colonialist labels and all sorts hierarchies that arise — will require a reframing of the understanding of our world as well as how we interact with each other in it.

#palestine #gaza

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nanowrimo · 1 year

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How to Use Meal Scenes to Develop Characters, Relationships, and Your World

Worldbuilding can sound complicated, but why not make it a little more simple by focusing on food? It may be the domestic touch you need! NaNo Participant Lacey Pfalz talks about using meal scenes to develop your world and your characters.

There’s one thing that remains a universal human truth: we love food! While our perspectives on food might differ, people all across the globe gather together during mealtimes — and thus, mealtimes are made memorable.

Meal scenes can also help your story in a few key ways, especially if it’s fantasy, science fiction or historical fiction.

Meal Scenes for Worldbuilding

If we’re using food for worldbuilding purposes, does that mean we can say we’re worldcooking?

Just kidding! Worldbuilding, especially in historical fiction, science fiction, and fantasy, is an integral part of what you must do as a writer (In truth, it’s also important for writers from other genres, but we’re specializing in these three today).

Meal scenes can be an important part of the worldbuilding process. Food is intrinsically tied to a culture or a country, or even a small region. That’s why it’s important, when building your own world, to take time to figure out the bare minimum of what your characters will be eating.

Let’s do an example. Your world is fantasy, your kingdom set beside a wide river. Perhaps your capital city, where much of the action is located, is surrounded by wetland.

If this is the case, what types of food would likely grow there? Seafood, fished from the large river, might be your characters’ staple proteins, while rice might grow better than another grain because of your kingdom’s wetlands. Fruit, perhaps even coconuts, might be the sweet stuff your main character loves to devour.

Remember that your world directly affects what types of food your characters will be having: is there coffee in space? What about in Byzantine Turkey or your new riverside kingdom?

Shannon Chakraborty does a phenomenal job with this in her fantasy series The Daevabad Trilogy, which is set in the eighteenth century across the Middle East. Her first book, The City of Brass, is especially good at showcasing the often-fragrant dishes of the various cultures across this region of the world (some copies of the book even have a short list of recipes from the book that foodies can try whipping up for themselves).

While her book is set within the fantastical world of the Djinn, her food is based upon recipes that have been preserved for centuries.

There’s one small reminder with all of this: it’s important not to get too caught up in describing each dish so much that you end up taking the focus away from the characters in a meal scene. Meal scenes can be breaks from fast action, but they should also continue the plot.

Meal Scenes for Developing Characters & Relationships

Character development can be hard, especially if you have a handful of characters that you love! But in order to make your readers love them too, you have to show them interacting with the world around them.

That guy we love to hate? Maybe he’s a loner who has grown up eating by himself. Having him forced to sit and eat with a group of people who have known each other for years might be an awkward moment for him, but it helps readers to learn more about his own worldview — and it might just help get him out of his shell, or at least off the love-to-hate list.

Besides helping you develop a single character, writing meal scenes with some of your characters can also help readers learn more about the relationship between your characters.

Let’s say you have your main character, MC. MC leans over and steals a French fry from her best friend. There’s no issue, right? That’s because they like each other, and the best friend has likely eaten with MC before, and knows she enjoys stealing food from other people’s plates.

But when MC tries it again, this time with the guy sitting next to her, he whacks her hand to stop her from stealing. This sparks an argument that seems, at least to everyone else watching it, pointless, but readers will know from the rest of the story that they’re the enemies-to-lovers trope. This argument is just one of many before they finally acknowledge their feelings towards one another.

See how that worked? A meal scene wasn’t useless; it pulled the story along by giving readers another taste of the enemies-to-lovers trope that so many enjoy reading.

If you need a more visible example of how this can play out, try watching a movie like Pride & Prejudice, (the book is amazing, but I’m suggesting the movie as a visual aid). The movie does a great job showcasing just how different the members of the Bennet family are individually, how they act around each other, and how they act around company.

There’s often little action in meal scenes, so they’re not meant to be overused. The plot should also still be there — take the cringey proposal scene between Mr. Collins and Elizabeth in Pride & Prejudice, for example, which follows directly after a meal when the rest of her family abandons her. In this case, the plot (and Mr. Collins’ advances) ruin her meal.

Perhaps your meal scene is the much-needed respite in between battling fierce aliens for planet Earth, or the first time your main character’s enemy-to-lover has entered her home. Either way, meal scenes are an important way to immerse your readers in what kind of world they’re imagining as well as showcasing how your characters act and — more importantly — how they act around each other.

Lacey Pfalz is a travel journalist by day, hopeful author by night. She belongs to the class of graduates she dubs the Class of COVID-19, having graduated with a double major in history and writing at Wisconsin Lutheran College in 2020. Her writing passions include fantasy, science fiction and historical fiction (with a little bit of romance, of course!). As someone with a physical disability, it’s her dream to write a fantasy series featuring a main character like her. Header Image by Jack Sparrow

#nanowrimo #writing #writing tips #worldbuilding #characters #character relationships #by nano guest #lacey pfalz

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