#community detention

[naturesapphic]

Her baby

Mommy!melanie martinez x little!fem!reader

Warnings: age regression, fluff, reader being scared of loud noises, lactation

You weren’t supposed to drop. Not right now. Melanie was busy performing and here you were on the side with some of the extra dancers and directors who was making sure everything was running smoothly, and you were deep into your headspace. You guessed it was because of how loud everything was and you just immediately shut down. When Melanie went off stage to get her portals gear on you heard one of the dancers tell Melanie what was happening and she hurriedly went over to you before she had her mask put on for portals.

“Baby? Are you okay?” She said loudly since you had noise cancelling headphones on and couldn’t really hear her unless she was right by you and raising her voice. You whimpered slightly and nodded your head slowly. Melanie knew you weren’t okay but she had a show to do and couldn’t just cancel, especially since it was almost over. She went over to one of the security guards and whispered something in his ear which confused you.

Melanie went back over to you and quickly gave you a quick peck on your lips and forehead “I have to go now babygirl but mommy will be right back. This nice man is going to go ahead and take you to the bus so you don’t have to listen to anymore loud noises okay?” She explained to you and you nodded your head as you waved bye to your mommy as she went over to the makeup and hair people to get her mask on. The nice security man gave you a warm smile and went outside at the back of the building where the bus was at.

He went up to it and put the passcode in, unlocking the door and he helps you inside. “I’ll be right outside if you need anything. Don’t hesitate little one.” He said kindly and you gave him a small but grateful smile as he closed the door as he went outside of the bus to keep watch. It was about thirty minutes later when the door opened and there came Melanie rushing in to see you. “Babygirl! How are you feeling. Are you okay?” She said quickly but calmly.

Ever since she had to leave you to finish her concert she had the worst anxiety knowing that you weren’t okay and you just needed her, but she was here now and that’s what matters. You looked up and saw your mommy coming towards you with a calm look on her face but you knew better than that, you knew she wasn’t calm. You put down your toys and got up on your feet running to your mommy. You jumped in her arms and she caught you with a giggle as you clung to her. “I Otay mommy! Jus nu wike loud noises…” you pouted at the end and she nodded her head in understanding.

“I understand baby. Next time I’ll just leave you on the bus and have security near you at all times so you don’t have to hear the loud noises.” Melanie stated and you smiled up at her. “Tank chu mama.” You said happily and she sighed happily, thankful that her baby is content and okay. “I would do anything for my little bug.” She said and you nuzzled your head against her plump chest which meant that you were tired and was ready to nurse. Melanie went to the back of the bus where the bunks were and let you crawl in first before Melanie went in behind you.

She lifted up her shirt and took off her bra, letting her chest fall free. Your eyes was locked onto her chest as you admired them, even though you’ve seen them many times. She pulled you close to her and cupped the back of your head and guided your lips to her nipple. You started suckling on her chest immediately and made cute soft suckling noises that Melanie found absolutely adorable. Not long after, you fell asleep and once melanie knew you were out, she let herself fall asleep too.

A/n: I had this in my head so I decided to write it. I hope yall enjoy! Remember to stay hydrated and to rest! I love yall! :)

[vibrantmutt]

thinking about f/o… oh how i love f/o…. upvote if you love f/o……….

[pawtrolling]

Hewwo! Can I get paci pfps of Clapton Davis and Derek Danforth (If ur comfy with doing that!) otherwise maybe Rainbow Dash or some kitties!

of course, here you go!! ♡

[dip-the-pip]

..

[a2-p3r-usu4l]

help how to convince all of my friends to do the season three opening with me for my junior year

[rubber-glovs]

SCIENCE HOMEWORK I HATE YOU WHY😭😭💔💔💔

[unusualsims]

??????

[usadvlottery]

Immigrant Legal Aid Policies in the United States encompass a set of regulations and initiatives designed to provide legal assistance and support to individuals navigating the complex immigration system. These policies aim to ensure that immigrants, regardless of their status, have access to fair representation, information, and resources. Legal aid organizations collaborate with government agencies, pro bono attorneys, and community partners to offer services such as legal consultations, representation in immigration court proceedings, and advocacy for the protection of immigrants' rights. These policies reflect the commitment to upholding the principles of justice, fairness, and inclusive, recognizing the importance of a robust legal framework to address the diverse needs of the immigrant population in the United States.

[docholligay]

So for all of you who think nothing matters:

We have a local, I guess I'll call it an events complex. It's where concerts and the fair go. It's owned by the city.

When Trump started the whole ICE thing, our commissioner sent a letter to the local representatives, telling them they could use it as a detention center for illegal immigrants. Our event center. Where the 4H kids show their fuckin' lambs.

"The fuck you will" was the resounding reply.

So, when I talk about coalition-building, and working with people you do not agree with or maybe even like, this is what I'm talking about. There was an immediate and vocal show of disapproval, from all sides. We all contacted people we knew would dislike this, REGARDLESS OF HOW THEY FELT ABOUT ANYTHING ELSE. The meeting was packed with people yelling at the commissioners. Of all political stripes. Republican, Democrat, Libertarian, Prairie Populist, Independent.

Some were, of course, the tumblr-style arguments about inherent humanity, but--I think more compellingly if you're actually trying to put the pressure on--there were questions of, 'How are we gonna get paid?" "Are you aware of how, as the only event center for more than two hours, much fuckin money this brings into the community? ANd that immigrants of all types make up less than 2% of the population of the entire state?(my argument), "Do we trust the government to pay us?", "Isn't there a fuckin' empty prison in [town about an hour from here]? Are you just being a kiss-ass?' (offered up by a man I know to be very conservative indeed. BUT HE DID NOT WANT OUR SPACE USED FOR THIS) and, an argument that was so good I was infuriated I didn't come up with it, "DO you think the bank is gonna want to be known as the sponsor of "National bank Detention Center?" (Which caught on and the bank had to offer up a letter saying how they hoped the commissioners would use the event center as intended.)

They folded. A letter came out a few days ago from the manager of the event center, saying it was decided that the events center would rescind the offer, as "more acceptable alternatives could be found." They blinked.

That's the thing. All that happened is that a bunch of people got mad an went to ONE TWO HOUR MEETING. It changed everything.

SHOW. UP.

[community-creating-change]

Let’s collaborate on how we can create the change that is desperately needed in our community!!

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"Spent an hour today talking to Harry Beach, one of our three real, honest-to-goodness "desperate criminals." It served to reinforce my growing realization of how inadequate a characterization such a category as "desperate criminal" can be.

Most of the men in West Street [the federal New York Detention Headquarters] just now are of the "light-custody" variety. Either they have short sentences, orthey are types not given to violence: OPA violators, draft dodgers, confidence men, and so on. These three are a different breed of cat. Harry, for instance, is a bank robber serving a forty-eight year sentence. One of his companions, sporting the unhkely name of Norman de Britten, wears two bullet scars, was bodyguard to the notorious Dutch Schultz, and has twenty-nine years to do. The third, Richard Langford, is a quiet, scholarly looking hijacker waiting to be sent somewhere to begin a sixteen-year stretch.

These three are locked in one cell-block for twenty-three hours a day. The other hour they spend on the roof, under heavy guard, getting what exercise and fresh air they can. They eat all their meals in their cell, and the guards heave an almost perceptible sigh of relief when they lock them back in after the roof period. I got to know them through Bob Brooks, for whom Harry especially has a tremendous respect.

"Imagine that guy," he said to me. "A successful lawyer and he gives it all up and goes to prison just for his convictions! What a guy!"

Harry himself is quite a guy. About my age, he has already served eight years and has forty still to do, but he is as calm and unperturbed as anyone in here, with the possible exception of his two cellmates. They "build their time" easily, joking with each other and with guards and other inmates, wasting no time on worry or self-pity. That in itself is quite an accomplishment for men in their shoes, though not too surprising. Men who put their own lives on the line when they break the law, as these did, are likely to be strong characters, and one can only reflect with regret on what they could have been if they had started on another track.

Much more astonishing is the gentleness and kindness they all three exhibit, not occasionally, but consistently. They chat encouragingly with men who would drop dead on the spot with their sentences—like the little liquor dealer, Mr. Robin.

Poor Mr. Robin violated the OPA and got a sentence of fifteen days, and he is absolutely certain that he will not survive it. He wails and whines more than anyone else here, walking unhappily through the corridors between the cells literally wringing his hands.

Robin's greatest comfort comes from the three long-timers. He stands at their cell for hours at a time while they josh him gently about his "long stretch," assure him that the days will pass more swiftly than he thinks, and laugh at his fears that he will be socially ostracized when he gets out. All this from men who cannot even begin to hope for release before as many years pass as Mr. Robin has days!

But the most impressive example of this kindness came a few days ago. A young Jehovah's Witness, barely eighteen years old, was brought in with a three-year sentence for refusal to accept the draft. Just a boy, probably brought up in a kind, decent, middle-class home and totally unprepared for anything like this, the youngster simply could not take it. He shrinks from everyone, can hardly talk, and seems on the verge of complete mental collapse. With the instinctive cruelty of unhappy, frightened men who find someone in an even worse state than themselves, some of the inmates have tormented him pretty badly.

Newcomers usually spend at least the first night on the second floor, but the authorities assigned him directly to the third, apparently hoping that the relatively quieter atmosphere there would help. When it did not the lieutenant went to Harry and his cellmates for help. The result was that the young JW was moved in with the three desperadoes—an act that on the surface would seem completely irrational. But the lieutenant knew his men. The three desperate criminals could not be kinder to the boy if they were his brothers. They actually come close to hovering over him, and when they talk to him, as Harry does frequently, they are as compassionate as his own parents could be. Under their influence, and in the protection of the constantly locked cell, the boy is beginning to respond a little, and today I saw him smile briefly at one of Harry's sallies. It would be funny if it were not so touching. Any time I am tempted to categorize anyone as unrelievedly bad, I shall remember Harry and the young JW."

- Alfred Hassler, Diary of a Self-Made Convict. Foreword by Harry Elmer Barnes. Chicago: Henry Regnery Company, 1954 (written 1944-1945), p. 30-32.

[makingqueerhistory]

Stonewall Book Awards Nonfiction Winners 2025-1971

Some years had multiple nonfiction winners. How many have you read?

Sex With a Brain Injury: On Concussion and Recovery by Annie Liontas (Scribner, an imprint of Simon & Schuster LLC)

Hijab Butch Blues by Lamya H (The Dial Press)

The Women’s House of Detention: A Queer History of a Forgotten Prison by Hugh Ryan (Bold Type Books)

Faltas: Letters to Everyone in My Hometown Who Isn’t My Rapist by Cecilia Gentili (Little Puss Press)

Dear Senthuran: A Black Spirit Memoir by Akwaeke Emezi (Riverhead Books)

Queer Games Avant-Garde: How LGBTQ Game Makers are Reimagining the Medium of Video Games by Bonnie Ruberg (they/them) (Duke University Press)

How We Fight for Our Lives: A Memoir by Saeed Jones (Simon & Schuster)

Go the Way Your Blood Beats by Michael Amherst (London: Repeater Press)

Queer Threads: Crafting Identity and Community by John Chaich and Todd Oldham (Los Angeles: Ammo Books)

How to Survive a Plague: The inside story of how citizens and science tamed AIDS, by David France (New York: Alfred A. Knopf)

Speak Now: Marriage Equality on Trial, by Kenji Yoshino (New York: Crown Publishers)

Living Out Islam: Voices of Gay, Lesbian, and Transgender Muslims, by Scott Siraj al-Haqq Kugle (New York: New York University Press)

American Honor Killings: Desire and Rage Among Men, by David McConnell (New York : Akashic Books)

Raising My Rainbow: Adventures in Raising a Fabulous, Gender Creative Son, by Lori Duron (New York: Broadway Books, an imprint of Crown Publishing, a division of Random House, Inc.)

For Colored Boys Who Have Considered Suicide When the Rainbow is Still Not Enough: Coming of Age, Coming Out, and Coming Home, edited by Keith Boykin (New York : Magnus Books)

Hide/Seek: Difference and Desire in American Portraiture, by Jonathan D. Katz and David C. Ward (Washington, D.C. : Smithsonian Books)

A Queer History of the United States (Revisioning American History), by Michael Bronski (Boston, Mass. : Beacon Press)

Inseparable: Desire between Women in Literature by Emma Donoghue, (Knopf)

Unfriendly Fire: How the Gay Ban Undermines the Military and Weakens America by Nathaniel Frank, (St. Martin's Press)

Dishonorable Passions: Sodomy Laws in America, 1861-2003 by William N. Eskridge, Jr., (Viking)

Dog Years: A Memoir by Mark Doty, (HarperCollins)

Fun Home: A Family Tragicomic by Alison Bechdel, (Houghton Mifflin)

The fabulous Sylvester: the legend, the music, the seventies in San Francisco by Joshua Gamson, (H. Holt)

Evolution's Rainbow: Diversity, Gender, and Sexuality in Nature and in People by Joan Roughgarden, (University of California Press)

Lost Prophet: The Life and Times of Bayard Rustin by John D'Emilio, (Free Press)

How Sex Changed: a History of Transsexuality in the United States by Joanne Meyerowitz, ( Harvard University Press)

The Scarlet Professor: Newton Arvin, a Literary Life Shattered by Scandal by Barry Werth, (Nan A. Talese)

Gaylaw: Challenging the Apartheid of the Closet by William N. Eskridge, (Harvard University Press)

My Lesbian Husband: Landscape of a Marriage by Barrie Jean Borich, (Greywolf Press)

Stagestruck: Theater, AIDS, and the Marketing of Gay America by Sarah Schulman, (Duke University Press)

The Shared Heart: Portraits and Stories Celebrating Lesbian, Gay, and Bisexual Young People by Adam Mastoon, (William Morrow and Co./Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Books)

Geography of the Heart: A Memoir by Fenton Johnson, (Scribner)

Virtual Equality: The Mainstreaming of Gay and Lesbian Liberation by Urvashi Vaid, (Anchor Books)

Skin: Talking About Sex, Class & Literature Dorothy Allison, (Firebrand Books)

Uncommon Heroes: A Celebration of Heroes and Role Models for Gay and Lesbian Americans by Phillip Sherman and Samuel Bernstein, (Fletcher Press)

Family Values: Two Moms and Their Son by Phyllis Burke, (Random House)

Making History: The Struggle for Gay and Lesbian Equal Rights, 1945-1990 by Eric Marcus, (HarperCollins)

Odd Girls and Twilight Lovers: A History of Lesbian Life in Twentieth Century America by Lillian Faderman, (Columbia University Press)

Encyclopedia of Homosexuality edited by Wayne Dynes, (Garland)

In Search of Gay America: Women and Men in a Time of Change by Neil Miller, (Atlantic Monthly Press)

A Restricted Country by Joan Nestle, (Firebrand Books)

And the Band Played On: Politics, People, and the AIDS Epidemic by Randy Shilts, (St. Martin's Press)

The Spirit and the Flesh: Sexual Diversity in American Indian Culture by Walter Williams, (Beacon Press)

Sex and Germs: The Politics of AIDS by Cindy Patton, (South End Press)

Another Mother Tongue: Gay Words, Gay Worlds by Judy Grahn, (Beacon Press)

Sexual Politics, Sexual Communities: The Making of a Homosexual Minority in the United States, 1940-1970 by John D'Emilio, (University of Chicago Press)

Surpassing the Love of Men: Romantic Friendship and Love Between Women from the Renaissance to the Present by Lillian Faderman, (Morrow)

Black Lesbians: An Annotated Bibliography by J.R. Roberts, (Naiad Press)

The Celluloid Closet: Homosexuality in the Movies by Vito Russo, (Harper & Row)

The Cancer Journals by Audre Lorde, (Spinsters, Ink)

Christianity, Social Tolerance, and Homosexuality: Gay People in Western Europe from the Beginning of the Christian Era to the Fourteenth Century by John Boswell, (University of Chicago Press)

Now That You Know: What Every Parent Should Know About Homosexuality by Betty Fairchild and Nancy Hayward, (Harcourt, Brace, Jovanovich)

Our Right to Love: A Lesbian Resource Book edited by Ginny Vida, (Prentice-Hall)

Familiar Faces, Hidden Lives: The Story of Homosexual Men in America Today by Howard Brown, (Harcourt, Brace, Jovanovich)

Homosexuality: Lesbians and Gay Men in Society, History, and Literature edited by Jonathan Katz, (Arno Press) [Series of historically significant reprints]

Sex Variant Women in Literature: A Historical and Quantitative Survey by Jeannette Foster, (Vantage Press)

The Gay Mystique: The Myth and Reality of Male Homosexuality by Peter Fisher, (Stein & Day)

Lesbian/Woman by Del Martin and Phyllis Lyon (Glide Publications)

A Place for Us by Isabel Miller, (published in October, 1971 by McGraw Hill as Patience and Sarah )

[probablyasocialecologist]

For years now, both Democratic and Republican administrations have used a little-known section of the Guantánamo Bay Naval base to detain migrants, primarily from the Caribbean. And due to the secrecy of the facility, known as the Guantánamo Migrant Operations Center (MOC), conditions at the facility are generally unknown. In the fall, Drop Site News published previously unreported details of the treatment of migrants at the MOC, the bureaucratic process of how migrants are detained, and the private prison companies profiting from the detention center. In August 2024, the Biden administration granted a private prison company a $163.4 million contract to run the facility. "For decades, the Guantanamo migrant detention center has been the hallmark of the most inhumane, racist, and brutal U.S. policies against people seeking refuge," said Jesse Franzblau, senior policy analyst with the National Immigrant Justice Center. "The Biden administration could have shut down the facility but tragically renewed and entered into new contracts to keep it up and running." Drop Site News revealed that the MOC can detain single adults, families, and unaccompanied children. Because the MOC is inside of a military base, migrants awaiting processing are transported in black out vans “with hand restraints and black out goggles to obscure their vision,” according to the documents obtained by Drop Site. Migrants also have limited communication with the outside world, with their few phone calls monitored for “restricted information,” including information about the navy base, the documents showed.

30 January 2025

[thewildwaffle]

Friend Shaped

The professor clacked his beak sharply three times in the front of the room. The students, around 40 individuals, and many species from across the galactic arm hushed almost immediately. “Welcome back, class. The day for your first planet-side mission to Nemulon 3 is fast approaching, and we've still got a lot of safety training to cover, so let's get started.” The professor stepped aside to allow a projection to display against the board behind him. A picture of a blue, green, and gray planet shone brightly against the dark tapestry of space. Nemulon 3 had been discovered deca-orbits ago but offered a wide variety of biomes that were the perfect blend of challenging and safe to train new recruits to the Galactic Alliance’s Exploration Fleet. “Today we're covering some alien fauna you may encounter while conducting exploratories. Most are small enough that they won't pose much of an issue, but we do have a few category 5 lifeforms that you need to be aware of.” The display behind the professor changed from an image of Nemulon 3 from orbit to a chart topped by 5 images with their respective labels: karindru, oold, dini-dini, barintuna, and great lavalen. Before the professor could start in on the next part of his lecture, a voice spoke out from the middle of the classroom.“That looks like a dog.” The professor stood with his beak half open. He was certainly not used to being interrupted, let alone this early in the lesson. “A what?” He finally choked out. There was a pause as if the offending student was thinking better about drawing more attention to themselves before slowly putting their hand up in the air. It was a human. Cadet Valentina, if the attendance role had been accurate. “I said it… it looks like a dog.” Human Valentina inhaled as if gathering the courage to say more. “They're a carnivorous canine species on earth that humans domesticated thousands of cycles ago and selectively bred to be pets.” The professor’s beak closed with a snap and some of the features near the base of his neck ruffled slightly. “Nemulon 3 is 47 light years away from Earth. Any similarities between each planet’s fauna is purely coincidental, a product of parallel evolution.” The human bowed her head and said nothing else, so the professor continued. “Now, for many of you of larger stature, a single karindru might not pose much of a threat, but their real danger comes from their numbers. They live, travel, and hunt in packs. Thankfully, their method of communicating with each other in their packs are quite loud, so you will hear them long before you see them, and hopefully, before they see you. Typically you’ll hear anything from yipping, chirping, and howling.” “Kind of like coyotes.” The professor stopped and stared at the human again, feathers ruffling once again. “Another kind of canine species back home,” Valentina offered quietly. If the professor was capable of growling, he might have been tempted to at that moment. Instead, he sighed slowly. “I can assure you, trying to get close to these will likely end with your injury or death.” “Well, that's what ancient humans thought about wolves too, but then we bred them into dogs and now they’re our best friends.” “Karindru are not, nor are any native creatures on this planet, your friend. Not now, not ever.” The professor turned sharply back to the board. The entire class was dead silent. Few even dared to breathe. It was quiet enough, in fact, to hear the human mumble under their breath, “If not friend, then why friend-shaped?”

The human was promptly given detention and assigned extra homework of writing “I will not try to domesticate any native fauna on Nemulon 3” one hundred times by hand.

[i2sunric]

𝗬𝗢𝗨’𝗥𝗘 𝗟𝗢𝗦𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗠𝗘 (s.jy)

unrequited love (but is it really?)

MASTERLIST

PAIRING: bestfriend!jake x reader (f)

SUMMARY: you’d loved him quietly for so long, it felt like a part of who you were. but love, when unspoken, had a way of festering. it filled the silences, lingered in the spaces between you, and left you questioning everything.

WARNINGS: heartbreak, too little communication (barely one at all), reader watches from afar, jake is kinda a f boy (but make it romantically, lol), if only they confessed they’d be happy, lmk if more. NOT PROOFREAD.

PUBLISHED: 1st December 2024

WC: 2k

TAGLIST: (permanent) @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @jwnghyuns @bangtancultsposts @shawnyle @jooniesbears-blog @skzenhalove @ro-diaries @onlyhyunjin @xcosmi @strawberrhypen @heeheeswifey @jakeflvrz @astratlantis @tunafishyfishylike @branchrkive @insommni4 @kirinaa08 @leiclerc @nxzz-skz @laurradoesloveu @beomluvrr @heeshlove @17ericas @riribelle @cloud-lyy (project) @whateverhoon @theothernads

NOW PLAYING: You’re losing me (From The Vault) by Taylor Swift

a/n: very low effort, i’m sorry

Middle school had been a maze of awkward hellos and the formation of friendships, but finding Jake had felt like finding your person.

He'd been the boy who shared his snacks with you when you forgot your lunch, sat beside you in class, whispering jokes that got you both in trouble, and the first person you called when something — anything — happened.

“You're stuck with me now," Jake had said that first day, his grin as bright as the summer sun.

His cheeks were round and he was wearing glasses while his brown hair fell onto his forehead, a beautiful mess.

"Lucky me," you teased, rolling your eyes. But deep inside, you had never felt luckier.

You weren't one to make friendships fast, all your attempts at small talks always ended up being awkward and uneasy, usually with you making a fool out of yourself.

You were glad Jake had been extroverted enough to adopt you.

You still remember the middle school science fair, which was supposed to be a showcase of brilliance and innovation—or so your teacher had declared with far too much enthusiasm. To you and Jake, it was more like a recipe for chaos.

The two of you had decided on making a volcano that would erupt using baking soda and vinegar. It seemed simple enough, but it was proving to be anything but.

"Alright, now we try," he gawked excitedly, holding high the plastic bottle that served for your volcano.

The construction-paper casing you had made in arts and crafts sat beside it, drying after unfortunate an incident involving too much paint.

"Wait," I said, looking at his hands where the measuring cup full was held. "How much vinegar did you put?"

"Uh…" He paused, looking suspiciously guilty. "I don't know. A lot?"

"Jake!" you groaned, trying not to laugh. "It's supposed to be precise! What if it explodes everywhere?"

"That's the point, isn't it?" he shot back, grinning mischievously.

You rolled your eyes but couldn't hide your smile as Jake dramatically tipped the baking soda into the bottle.

For a moment, nothing happened, and the two of you leaned in closer, peering into the bottle like a pair of amateur scientists.

Then it happened.

With a loud whoosh, the vinegar and baking soda reacted with more enthusiasm than either of you had anticipated. The foam burst out of the bottle, spilling onto the desk and splattering onto your hands and clothes.

"Jake!" you shrieked, jumping back as the foam continued to pour out, dripping onto the floor.

Jake was laughing so hard he could barely stand. "It works!" he managed to choke out gasps for air.

“You're impossible," you said, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably as laughter bubbled out of you.

"Admit it," Jake said, wiping his hands on his already-ruined shirt. "This is way cooler than whatever the other kids are doing."

You shook your head, still smiling. "We're definitely getting detention for this."

"Totally worth it," he said, grinning at you.

Through the years, Jake had been your constant— your rock, your safe haven.

Along the way, your feelings changed. It wasn't his laugh that warmed your heart; it was how his hair fell in his eyes when he was focused on something, the way he would hold the door for you without a second thought, and the way he knew how you were feeling without your ever having to say anything.

But you kept those feelings locked away, terrified of what might happen if you said them out loud.

You thought that maybe, with all the high school matters and puberty hitting, Jake would grow distant from you.

You weren't as popular as him; you liked being on your own or with your small circle of friends, especially due to your awkward nature.

But, much to your surprise, your connection only got stronger.

The hallways were never empty, always alive with laughter, chatter, and the occasional sound of lockers slamming shut. You could usually maneuver them with ease, but today was different.

You could feel it— the weight of whispers, eyes darting toward you, and the kind of sharp-edged giggles that made your stomach churn.

You knew they were talking about you. They usually did.

“She's got Jake wrapped around her finger, and I saw her laughing and sweet talking to Sunghoon too. She wants everybody, uh?”

"I know, right? She's so clingy. It's so embarrassing."

The voices were muffled but not small enough, and their words pierced into you like small, jagged pebbles. You continued walking, trying to keep your head high, but it was hard to avoid the way their laughter trailed after you.

As you turned the corner, almost colliding with him, Jake leaned casually against your locker, waiting for you, just like he always did before class.

His smile vanished the instant he saw your face. "Hey," he said quietly, straightening up. "What's wrong?"

“Nothing," you mumbled, fumbling with your combination lock.

Jake's eyebrows furrowed, and he looked down the hall, where the girls were still whispering, their eyes darting between you and Jake. It didn't take him long to put the pieces together.

"Are they bothering you?" he asked, this time sharper.

"No," you said, lying, avoiding his eyes. "It's fine, let's just go to class.

Jake wasn't convinced. He stood there a moment, his jaw clenched, before turning on his heel and walking straight toward the group of girls.

"Jake!" you hissed, grabbing at his arm, but he was already out of reach.

"Hey," he said, his voice even but with a firmness to it as he came to a stop in front of them.

The girls froze; smug expressions faltered under his gaze. "Got something to say about my best friend?"

The hallway grew eerily quiet.

One of the girls, the ringleader of the group, stammered, "W-We weren't talking about her—"

"Right," Jake interrupted her, his tone heavy with sarcasm. "Because I definitely didn't just hear you." he sneered bitterly "Listen, if you've got a problem with her, you've got a problem with me. And trust me, you don't want that."

The girls looked at each other uneasily and then murmured something about needing to get to class, scurrying away.

Jake turned back to you, his expression softening when he saw the mix of embarrassment and gratitude on your face.

"You didn't have to do that," you said quietly as he walked back to you.

"Of course I did," he replied, slinging an arm over your shoulder as if to shield you from the rest of the world. "No one messes with you. Not on my watch."

It was the protectiveness in his voice that warmed your heart, and as the two of you walked to class together, you couldn't help but think that Jake had always been more than just your best friend— he was your safe place, your unwavering ally.

Starting university together had been exciting, a new beginning for the both of you.

New faces, new experiences, and yet the comfort of Jake remained the same. You still would study late into the night together, eat cheap takeout, and walk across campus under the streetlights.

Then Jake started dating.

It wasn't sudden. It began with a girl from his biology class, someone perky and charming.

Then there was a girl in his intramural soccer team, followed by a string of casual dates that never seemed to last long but still stung like tiny pinpricks against your heart.

You told yourself it was fine, that you had no right to feel this way. Jake was your best friend, and he was happy. That was what mattered.

But it's another thing watching him laugh with someone else, watching him give away the pieces of himself you selfishly wanted for yourself— it just hurt in a way no words could describe.

It's one Friday night; Jake convinces you to join him at a party. That wasn't your scene, really, but he had begged, promising it just would not be the same without you.

The music was loud, the laughter even louder, but none of it could drown out the sound of your own thoughts.

You stood by the corner of the room, nursing your drink and pretending not to notice the way Jake's smile lit up the space.

He was in his element: talking, laughing, charming people around him with ease. His dyed blond hair caught the light as he leaned in to hear someone over the noise. And though you tried not to stare, you couldn't help it. He had that effect on you; always had.

You’d loved him quietly for so long, it felt like a part of who you were. But love, when unspoken, had a way of festering.

It filled the silences, lingered in the spaces between you, and left you questioning everything.

“Hey,” Jake’s voice cut through your thoughts, startling you.

You looked up to find him standing in front of you, his signature grin in place. "You've been awfully quiet tonight," he said, tilting his head. "Everything okay?"

You forced a smile, hoping it was convincing. "Yeah, just tired."

Jake studied you for a moment, his gaze softening. "You sure? You've been kind of… distant lately.”

The concern in his voice made your chest tighten. He cared. Of course, he cared. But not in the way you wanted him to.

"I'm fine," you lied, taking a sip of your drink to avoid his piercing gaze.

Jake frowned slightly but didn't push. He never did. It was one of the things you loved about him, his ability to read the room, to know when to give you space.

“Well," he said finally, his voice lightening. "If you need anyone to talk to, you know where to find me."

You nodded, gave him a small smile. "Thanks, Jake."

Yet even as he walked away, your heart was aching, knowing that he'd be there for you but just never in the way you actually needed him to be.

Later that night, after most of the party had cleared out, you found yourself sitting on the back porch, staring up at the stars.

Almost everyone was gone, just a small afterparty happening inside, though you didn't want to be part of any. The chill in the air was a welcome distraction from the turmoil in your chest.

"You okay?" Jake's voice came again, softer this time.

You turned to find him standing in the doorway, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket.

He stepped outside and sat down beside you, the warmth of his presence seeping into your skin.

"Done cleaning?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He shook his head, leaning back against the railing. "I was worried about you," he admitted.

Your heart clenched. "I told you, I'm fine."

Jake let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. "You're an awful liar, you know that?" he eyed you up and down "Seriously, you're quiet. more than usual."

The corner of your mouth twitched, but the smile didn't quite reach your eyes. "Maybe I just don't have anything worth saying.

Jake turned to him, his face soft but serious. "You always have something worth saying," he said. "You just don't let people hear it."

It was a comment that hit closer to home than he probably realized, and for a moment, you considered telling him the truth-about how you felt, about how much it hurt to love him from a distance. But fear kept the words locked in your throat.

Instead, you laughed quietly, shaking your head. "You're too good at this, you know?"

"At what?"

"At making people feel seen," you said, glancing over at him. "It's kind of unfair."

Jake chuckled, his gaze softening. "I just care about the people I love," he said simply.

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, even though you knew they weren't meant the way you wanted them to be.

"Jake," you started, voice shaking very slightly. "What if—"

But before you could finish, the door behind you creaked open, and someone called his name.

One of his last situationships, asking for him to come inside. To join her.

"Hold that thought," he said, standing up.

You nodded and saw him disappear into the house; his figure grew tiny before tucking into it. It sounded in the air-the speech you wanted to say after he was already out the back door.

And with all that, beneath the vast expanse of star, something struck you - maybe love towards Jake would mostly be experienced in silence: the remembering of moments and convincing you enough even when those weren't.

Because you wanted him, his presence, half of his heart. You knew you would be content, even with a quarter of that.

But nothing would occur if one kept silent, afraid of spoiling all those years of friendship for some fleeting thing.

[spacelazarwolf]

before yom hashoah ends, i want to remind folks that sephardi, maghrebi, and mizrahi jews were also deeply affected by the holocaust.

this is by no means inclusive of all communities who were affected by the holocaust and its aftermath, i do not have the emotional bandwidth for that, but hopefully this gives you some insight into jewish experiences outside of what's usually talked about.

the jews of morocco, algeria, tunisia, libya, and italy were all subjected to the racial laws of the vichy regime or fascist italy, which prevented them from attending educational institutions, holding public office, and owning businesses and sometimes property. moroccan jews were protected from some of the violence faced by other jews of the mediterranean and north africa because of the moroccan sultan mohammed ben youssef, who was vocally opposed to the anti jewish laws. he reportedly told the vichy government, "there are no jews in morocco. there are only moroccan subjects." he believed he had a god-given responsibility to protect moroccan jews. "moroccan jews are my subjects, and it is my duty to protect them against aggression."

unfortunately, other jewish communities did not receive that kind of protection. algerian jews faced a pogrom by the local arab population in constantine, killing 25 and destroying several jewish homes and businesses. 2000 algerian jews were sent to concentration camps in bedeau and djelfa, where many died from hunger, exhaustion, disease, or beatings. 5000 tunisian jews were forced into labor and detention camps where over 400 of them were killed. in libya, there was a violent pogrom which killed 500 jews out of a community of 4000. 2600 of the survivors were sent to the giado concentration camp, of which 526 died. in tunisia, there was a violent pogrom which killed over 130 jews (including 36 children), injured hundreds, and left 4000 homeless. italian jews faced pogroms, the jewish ghetto in rome was raided and over a thousand jews were detained and sent to concentration camps. a total of 7680 italian jews out of a population of nearly 45,000 were killed.

in greece, thousands of jews were deported to auschwitz. as many as 50% died en route, and only 10,000 out of over 75,000 survived, a nearly 90% death rate. their homes were looted and their property was stolen, and when the few survivors tried to return after the war (a difficult task as the greek foreign ministry attempted to delay or prevent their return to greece), most were unable to regain their property and possessions, forcing most to seek asylum in israel or other countries.

egyptian jews were not directly affected by the axis powers, but extremist organizations like young egypt and the muslim brotherhood sympathized with the nazis and even secured nazi funds to distribute thousands of antisemitic propaganda pamphlets. sporadic pogroms took place throughout the 40's, stoked by political leaders like mahmoud an-nukrashi pasha who said to the british ambassador, "all jews were potential zionists" and dr heykal pasha who said "if the u.n. decides to amputate a part of palestine in order to establish a jewish state, ... jewish blood will necessarily be shed elsewhere in the arab world ... to place in certain and serious danger a million jews." this political extremism prompted the 1948 cairo bombings that killed 70 jews and wounded 200, with many more being killed in the riots following, and eventually led to the expulsion of nearly all egyptian jews, whose money and posessions were all confiscated by the egyptian government.

similar political persecution was directed at iraqi jews, leading to the farhud, a pogrom which killed 180 jews and forced tens of thousands to flee. though there were many who did not support the nazi regime or agree with their views, there were just as many in arab countries who did, in no small part because of active effort by the nazis to gain sympathy from arab populations who already did not get along with their local jewish populations. this led to several other pogroms that took place in the 30's and 40's across lebanon, syria, and british mandate palestine, including a pogrom in jaffa which killed 9 jews and forced 12,000 jews to flee, and another in tiberias which killed 19 jews (including 11 children), most of whom were stabbed to death.

it's understandable that most of what the general public knows about the holocaust is the stories of ashkenazi jews from central and eastern europe, because they comprise the vast majority of the victims. hopefully, this encourages you to do further research into the ways other parts of the diaspora were also affected.