#legal grounds for war | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

matt-murdockk · 16 days ago

Text

Time

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Reader

words: 2.8k

summary: On their wedding night, (Y/n) disappears in Matt’s arms-blipped without warning. For five years, he mourns her, tormented by grief and hallucinations. When she returns, unchanged, he’s convinced she’s not real. (angst mostly with fluff ending)

warnings: angst, cussing, lack of proofreading rip, set in infinity war - endgame timeline (reader getting blipped, etc)

a/n: Listen, my boy Matt is the PERFECT practice for writing angst. I just like to put him in situations and watch him like he's in a fish tank and I'm outside tapping on the glass. This man absolutely cannot catch a break and while I am partially to blame (cause I'm writing it this time), just how Matt is written in general is in a way that it just makes sense to put him through shit. He is a walking amalgam of Catholic Guilt, adrenaline, and poor decision making and I love him so much. This one is a boatload of angst but I threw in some fluff in the ending because well, we deserve good things.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The apartment door creaked open with the softest thud, and then her back hit it as Matt pressed her gently against the wood, lips grazing her jaw, her cheek, the corner of her mouth. He was smiling.

That rare, devastating smile he only wore when it was just them.

“You’re supposed to carry me across the threshold, remember?” she whispered, breathless with laughter.

“Oh, I didn’t forget,” Matt murmured. “Just wanted a moment alone with my wife first.”

Wife.

The word made her stomach flip in a good way- warm and giddy and ridiculous.

He scooped her up easily, one arm beneath her knees, the other at her back, and she looped her arms around his neck like she’d never let go. “You’re enjoying this a little too much.”

“I’m legally required to now,” he said with a smirk. “It’s in the vows. Carry you everywhere. Worship the ground you walk on. Try not to lose my mind over how good you look in that dress.”

“Flawless delivery, Murdock,” she teased. “Truly. I can tell you definitely wrote your own vows.”

He chuckled against her shoulder as he carried her through the doorway into the quiet, dimly lit apartment. Candles flickered. Soft music still hummed faintly from the speaker they forgot to turn off before the ceremony.

And for a second- just one perfect second- it was all stillness. Just them. Just this.

He set her down gently, hands lingering at her waist. They kissed again, slower now. Softer. Everything feeling like it had finally settled into place. She pressed her forehead to his, heart beating a little too fast.

“I think I’m going to cry.”

“I’ll beat you to it,” he murmured, eyes closing, nose brushing hers. “You’re here. You’re mine. We made it.”

She smiled, eyes glassy. “We did.”

They stood there for a while. Just holding each other. Breathing the same air. Wedding bands warm against skin.

But then-

She shifted slightly in his arms. Her brows furrowed.

“Matt?”

He straightened a little, instantly alert. “Yeah?”

“I feel... weird.”

He tilted his head, concern filtering through his features. “Weird how?”

She pressed a hand to her stomach. “I don’t know. It’s like- I just got dizzy all of a sudden. Like the room’s moving.”

Matt gently guided her toward the couch, helping her sit down. “Okay. Just breathe. You might be dehydrated. Or just- adrenaline crash.”

She tried to smile. “Yeah. Big day. Lots of emotions. Too many speeches.”

She stood too fast. Her hand slipped from his.

“Careful,” Matt said, already reaching for her again. “Take it slow- ”

“I think I need to throw up,” she mumbled, voice shaky.

“Okay, yeah,” he nodded, already guiding her. “Bathroom’s just- ”

She staggered.

Her balance tipped.

Matt caught her by the waist before she could fall. “Hey. Hey, I got you. It’s okay- ”

She didn’t answer.

Her body felt... lighter. Unsteady. Like her weight was shifting in his arms.

He tilted his head, trying to focus on her. “(Y/n)? You with me?”

She looked up at him.

Confused.

Scared.

“M-Matt, I...”

And then her voice just- cut out.

His arms were suddenly empty.

He blinked.

No sound. No step. No breath.

Just... gone.

The faintest warmth lingered against his fingertips- and then something like dust scattered through them.

“What the- ?” he whispered, stepping back. “(Y/n)?”

His hand shook. Her scent was still in the room. Her heartbeat-

No. No, that wasn’t right.

He turned, listening harder, straining his senses.

Nothing.

There was nothing.

The silence grew louder. His throat closed up.

“(Y/n)?”

He moved down the hallway. Checked the bathroom. The bedroom. “(y/n), c’mon. Say something.”

No heartbeat. No motion. Not even the creak of a floorboard. Like she’d never been there. Matt’s chest started to cave in.

“Okay, this isn’t- this doesn’t make sense,” he muttered. “Maybe you passed out. Maybe you hit your head. Maybe- ”

His foot bumped something.

Her ring.

Her wedding ring.

Lying on the floor.

His knees hit the hardwood before he could stop them. “No.”

He crawled forward, hands blindly reaching, as if she might be hidden just out of reach.

“(Y/n)!” His voice cracked. “Where are you?!”

Still nothing.

Just the flicker of the candles.

Just the soft sound of ash settling.

“No, no- God, no!” He stood again. Stumbled. Slipped.

“(Y/n)!” He shouted so hard it tore something in his throat. “Talk to me!”

He made it to the front door. Opened it. Nothing. No one. No footsteps. No sounds of retreat. Matt’s breathing picked up. His fingers trembled as he unlocked his phone, nearly dropping it before hitting Call.

Foggy.

It rang once. Twice-

Pick up.

The sound of the city outside had changed. He could hear it.

Screaming. Tires screeching. Glass shattering six blocks over. Someone crying for help. Sirens multiplying like wildfire. It all surged into his head at once- too much, too fast.

He pressed his palm against his ear, gritting his teeth. “Too loud. I can’t- ”

Click.

“Matt?” Foggy answered, out of breath. “Hey, shouldn’t you be- ?”

“She’s gone,” Matt said immediately, voice fraying. “Foggy- she was right here, and then she just... disappeared.”

“What do you mean ‘disappeared’?”

“I mean she turned to ash in my hands,” Matt snapped, breath catching. “I was holding her. She said she felt sick and then- then she just... she was gone.”

There was a pause.

“Matt, hang on- wait- ” Foggy’s voice shifted, panic creeping in. “I think... Matt, something’s happening. It’s not just her.”

Matt stilled. “What do you mean?”

“I’m outside and people are vanishing. Right in front of me. There was a guy walking beside me- just turned to dust. A woman screaming for her kid, and the kid vanished. A guy in a cab just disappeared behind the wheel, Matt. It crashed into a light post.”

Matt pressed a hand to the center of his chest like he could anchor himself to the sound of Foggy’s voice. But even that was drowned out by the chaos around him.

“I can’t hear her,” he whispered. “Her heartbeat- her breathing- it’s just gone. Like she was never here, foggy.”

Foggy’s voice came through again, strained and tense. “It’s happening everywhere. I can’t keep up. There’s shouting, people running- I think half the crowd outside just vanished. I’m not exaggerating.”

Matt stumbled toward the couch, hand landing on the coffee table. “She was right here.”

“I’m coming to you,” Foggy said quickly. “Stay there, Matt. Don’t go outside- Jesus Christ, someone else just- ”

The line crackled. Cut out. Came back.

Matt’s hands were shaking as he reached for the remote.

The TV flicked on.

"...mass disappearances reported in New York, Chicago, London- this is now confirmed to be a global event..."

Footage played- Times Square chaos. Pedestrians turning to dust mid-step. News anchors looking off-camera in horror. Phones on the ground. Car alarms going off in every direction.

“We are receiving reports that approximately half the world’s population has- vanished.”

The camera panned to a child’s stuffed toy, untouched, lying in a pile of ash. Everything was still. Except the noise. And the empty space beside him on the floor.

“She was right here,” he said again, softly. Like it might undo it.

“She was right here.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

five years later

She came back mid-step.

One foot lifted toward the bathroom- and when it landed, everything was wrong.

The apartment was darker. Colder. Rearranged.

The soft glow from the corner lamp was unfamiliar. The kitchen counter had a different crack. The rug was new. The air carried a different scent- like dust and time and a city that had moved on without her.

“Matt?” she called, voice hoarse.

Silence.

She stepped further in. The living room looked lived-in, but not by her. Not anymore. Not for a long time. The coffee table was cluttered with open case files. There was a cane by the door she didn’t recognize. Her heart pounded faster.

“Matt-?”

And then he was there. He stood in the doorway like he’d been carved from stone, unreadable and unmoved. Then, quietly- too calmly- he said, “So. You’re back.”

She stopped cold.

“Matt-”

He tilted his head slightly, almost as if studying her. “Took longer this time.”

“What…?” she breathed.

“Usually you show up around hour thirty-six,” he said, like it was a fact. “Right after the exhaustion hits but before the whiskey does anything useful.”

Her stomach twisted. “Matt, I’m not-”

“Don’t,” he cut in, sharp. “Don’t do that.”

She swallowed hard. “This isn’t what you think.”

“No?” His voice was soft, even, lethal. “Because it looks a hell of a lot like every other time I’ve lost my mind and imagined you standing in this room.”

(Y/n) blinked, her chest rising and falling too fast. “Matt, I- I don’t understand. What are you talking about?”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, no trace of humor. “You wouldn’t.”

“I was just- I felt sick and then it was cold, and everything looked wrong and-" Her words tangled, tripping over each other. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

He didn’t answer.

“Matt?”

Nothing.

She took a tentative step forward. “Please. Say something. What happened? What- what’s going on?”

He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. His voice, when it came, was low and sharp, like a scalpel slicing through skin without even trying.

“Don’t do this to me again.”

Her breath caught. “What- what do you mean, again?”

“I know your routine now,” he said, voice tightening with each word. “You show up, confused. You ask questions. You cry. And then just when I start to believe you might be real- when I almost let myself feel something again- you vanish.”

“Matt, I don’t- ”

“No,” he snapped. “Stop. Just stop.”

She froze. He stepped forward, slow and deliberate, his jaw locked, eyes unreadable.

“You know what it’s like to bury someone without a body, (Y/n)?” he asked. “To sit in this apartment with your ring in my hand, trying to convince myself that ash on the floor was all that was left of you?”

She shook her head, tears spilling freely now. “I don’t remember anything-”

“Exactly,” he said, bitter. “You never do. That’s the trick, isn’t it? You pretend like you’re all confused. Like you don’t know what’s happening. And I- I fall for it. Every time. Like an idiot.”

“Matt- please, just listen to my heartbeat-”

“I did,” he cut in. “I’ve heard it before. Right before it disappears.”

Her lips trembled. “I swear I’m not-”

“You don’t get to do this,” he said, his voice suddenly shaking, but no less cruel. “You don’t get to come back here like nothing happened. Like you didn’t leave me bleeding on the floor that night. Like I didn’t spend years trying to claw my way out of what you left behind.”

“I didn’t leave you,” she whispered.

“But you’re dead,” Matt hissed, stepping close enough for her to feel the heat off his skin. “You died. And whatever this is- this illusion, this dream- it doesn’t change that. You don’t get to hurt me again.”

He said it like a closing statement. Like a sentence passed down after a trial that never had a chance. But he didn’t stop there.

“You think this is easy for me?” he went on, voice low, cracking at the edges now. “You think I want to keep seeing you in doorways? Hearing your voice when I close my eyes? You think I haven’t begged for it to stop?”

(Y/n) stood frozen, lips parted, tears streaking silently down her face.

“I have spent five years trying to forget the exact way you said my name before you disappeared. Five years trying not to hear it in someone else’s mouth. Five years waking up thinking you might be there- just once- and then realizing that all I’ve got left is a bed that’s too big and silence that’s too loud.”

He was pacing now, hands in his hair, breathing hard, unable to stop himself.

“You were my wife. You were supposed to be the rest of my life. And I had you for minutes. You were ripped out of my arms before I even got to love you properly. Do you understand that? Do you even get what you left behind?”

“Matt-”

“I grieved you like a man who’d never believe in God again,” he growled. “I went back to that night a thousand times in my head-wondering if I missed something, if I could’ve saved you, if I’d just done one thing different-”

“Matt-”

“I begged,” he snapped. “I begged God to bring you back. I lost everything trying to survive you. And now you show up here, looking exactly the same, like time hasn’t touched you, like you’re just picking up where you left off- like you didn’t burn me to the fucking ground-”

“Matt.”

She said it once.

Quietly.

And then she reached for him.

He flinched on instinct, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, gently, deliberately, she took his hand in hers- still trembling from the weight of his words- and guided it up between them.

To her chest. To her heartbeat. Right there. Steady. Real. Alive. His breath hitched. She kept his hand pressed there, fingers wrapped around his wrist like she could anchor him to this one undeniable truth.

“I’m here,” she whispered. “I’m not in your head. I don’t know how or why or what the hell happened, but I’m here.”

Matt didn’t move at first. Just stood there, hand pressed to her chest, like he didn’t trust what he was feeling. Like it might stop if he acknowledged it out loud. Then- suddenly- he let out a shaky breath and pulled her into him, hard.

His voice was muffled against her shoulder. “What the fuck.”

Her hands gripped his shirt like she was afraid he’d drop her again. “Yeah, what the fuck. I don’t know what’s happening.”

He laughed once, breathless and half-broken. “Yeah. Me neither.”

They just stood there for a second. Breathing each other in. Trying to recalibrate. Then, against his chest, she mumbled, “You look like shit, by the way.”

It slipped out before she could stop it. Matt let out an actual laugh- short, incredulous, almost like it startled him.

“That’s not funny,” he said, wiping at his eyes, still half-laughing.

She smiled weakly. “Little bit funny.”

He shook his head, still not quite believing any of it. “God, I missed you.”

And then he kissed her.

Desperate and real and messy- too much force, too much urgency, like he didn’t trust it to last. His hands found her face, holding her like he needed proof she was solid. She kissed him back just as hard, fingers in his hair, anchoring him to now. To her.

It wasn’t clean. It wasn’t perfect. But it was real. And that was enough.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

a little bonus content because well it was funny in my head

A few days later

She was curled up next to him on the couch, legs tangled, one of his old hoodies hanging off her shoulder. The TV was on, volume low, neither of them really watching.

She was still catching up- on everything. The blip. The aftermath. The years she missed. Sometimes it hit her like a freight train. Other times, like now, it just snuck up and poked her in the ribs.

She turned to look at him, brow furrowed. “Wait a second.”

Matt tilted his head toward her. “Uh-oh.”

She sat up a little. “So… technically, you’re five years older than me now?”

He blinked. “That’s what you’re choosing to focus on right now?”

“It’s a valid question,” she insisted, grinning. “I married a man my age, not some grizzled thirty-something.”

He scoffed. “Grizzled?”

“I mean, I don’t see any grey hairs, but-”

“I’m blind, not deaf. I heard that smirk.”

She tried to hold back a laugh. Failed. “So you’re like… what, thirty-eight?”

“Thirty-seven,” he corrected flatly.

“Oh no. I married an older man.”

Matt deadpanned, “And I married a time traveler. Guess we’re even.”

She bumped her shoulder into his. “You gonna start calling me ‘kid’ now?”

He turned toward her, a slow smirk tugging at his mouth. “Only if you want to see how fast a five-year age gap doesn’t matter.”

Her face flushed. “Okay, grandpa.”

Matt groaned. “Regret. Immediate regret.”

She laughed, leaning back into him again, warm and solid and finally, finally real.

“Still married me,” she said, smug.

“Still would,” he replied, without hesitation.

And that shut her up for a minute.

881 notes · View notes

imreidswifey · 14 days ago

Text

The Genius Gets Tricked

Spencer Reid x reader fanfiction

summary: The BAU expects Spencer to be impossible to prank, but you manage to outsmart him with an elaborate, well-planned joke. He’s stunned, impressed, and maybe just a little bit in love with you for it.

a/n: a little late to posting, but here's my April fools post. There might be one coming for some other characters too...

w/c: 1.7k

April 1st was a dangerous day at the BAU.

Every year, someone—usually Garcia or Morgan—tried to prank Dr. Spencer Reid. And every year, they failed spectacularly. You weren’t even sure if Spencer had ever been successfully tricked in his entire life. He was too observant, too quick, too smart.

But that only made you more determined.

You had been planning this for weeks. You spent late nights scheming, considering every possible flaw, every potential hole in your logic. If you were going to trick a literal genius, it had to be flawless.

And today, it was time to execute it.

•

It started small.

The first step of your plan was to make Spencer think he had already caught on to a prank.

At precisely 9:07 AM, Garcia sauntered up to his desk, balancing a coffee cup in her hands with an exaggeratedly careful motion.

“Here you go, Boy Wonder,” she said, setting it down. “Just how you like it.”

Spencer squinted at the cup. Then at Garcia.

“I don’t drink caramel macchiatos,” he said slowly.

Garcia gasped dramatically. “What? Nooo, I swear that’s your usual order! Maybe the barista got it wrong.”

Spencer picked up the cup and examined it. You could see the gears turning in his head as he analyzed it. Was it rigged to spill? Was something inside it? Was there a fake bottom?

Carefully, he removed the lid and sniffed it.

“Relax, Spence, it’s just coffee,” JJ said, hiding her smirk behind her own cup.

Spencer, still suspicious, took a tiny sip. And then he frowned.

“It’s normal,” he murmured.

You and Garcia exchanged glances. Phase One: Make Spencer Think He Outsmarted the Prank was a success.

•

By lunchtime, Spencer had let his guard down slightly.

After all, he had already avoided a prank.

Or so he thought.

Which is exactly why you knew the real prank would work.

“Hey, Spence,” you said casually, sliding into the seat across from him in the break room. “I heard something really interesting today. You want to hear a fun fact?”

That got his attention immediately. Spencer lived for random facts.

“Of course,” he said, setting down his fork.

You took a deep breath, keeping your face perfectly serious. “Did you know that April Fools’ Day was actually banned in three states?”

Spencer blinked. “That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is,” you insisted.

“No, it isn’t,” he said automatically. “There’s no legal precedent for banning April Fools’ Day. The First Amendment protects satire and practical jokes unless they cause harm. No state would have grounds to outlaw it.”

You tilted your head. “Are you sure?”

Spencer scoffed. “One hundred percent.”

Hook, line, and sinker.

You pulled out a printed article and slid it across the table.

The title?

“April Fools’ Day Officially Banned in Three U.S. States – Supreme Court Ruling”

Spencer’s eyes darted across the page. The article was professionally formatted, full of quotes from “legal experts” and “court officials.”

You had written it yourself.

You had even gone so far as to insert a fake AP News watermark and a fabricated date stamp.

Spencer’s lips parted.

His brows furrowed.

You could see the internal war in his mind—his instincts screamed that this had to be fake, but the article was just too well-done.

He scanned the page three times.

Then, finally—finally—he looked up at you with wide, suspicious eyes.

“Where did you find this?”

You bit back your grin. “It was circulating online this morning.”

Spencer frowned deeply. He pulled out his phone and started typing.

Three minutes later, he huffed. “I can’t find any mention of this anywhere else.”

“Maybe it got buried,” you suggested innocently.

Spencer stared at the page again.

“…This doesn’t make sense,” he muttered. “It should be easy to debunk, but the sources look legitimate. And the writing style matches most legal reports. But—but there’s no way—”

His fingers gripped the paper tighter.

He’s spiraling.

JJ and Garcia, sitting a few tables away, stifled their laughter. Morgan had his fist in his mouth to keep from giving it away.

And then, after another thirty seconds of panicked silence—

Spencer suddenly stiffened.

His eyes snapped up to yours.

His jaw dropped slightly.

And then, in the softest voice—

“…Wait.”

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “Something wrong?”

Spencer just stared at you.

And then—

“No.”

You grinned. “No what?”

“No!” Spencer repeated, shaking his head furiously. He grabbed the article again, scanning it one more time—and then his eyes landed on something at the very bottom of the page.

A single, tiny sentence.

“Gotcha. Happy April Fools’, Genius.”

Spencer let out a strangled noise.

You burst out laughing.

“No!” Spencer groaned, burying his face in his hands. “No way! I— I should have known! I did know! It didn’t make sense, but I—”

“You totally fell for it,” you teased, grinning wildly.

Spencer pulled his hands away from his face, his cheeks flushed pink.

“I can’t believe I just got pranked,” he muttered. He stared at the fake article again, shaking his head. “You fabricated an entire Supreme Court ruling just to mess with me.”

You shrugged. “Had to make it believable.”

Spencer let out a breathless laugh. He looked back up at you, his gaze soft and a little stunned.

And then, to your surprise, he smiled.

Not his usual, polite smile.

A real, wide, utterly delighted smile.

His hazel eyes crinkled at the corners. His dimples deepened.

And suddenly, you felt your own face heat up.

“…That was actually incredibly impressive,” Spencer admitted, still grinning. “I mean, really. The amount of effort and detail—” He shook his head. “I’m genuinely impressed. That was—wow. I don’t think anyone has ever pulled off an April Fools’ prank on me before.”

Your heartbeat stuttered slightly.

“Well,” you said, trying to sound casual. “Glad I could be your first.”

Spencer’s eyes flickered with something warm.

For a second, it felt like there was no one else in the room. Just you and him, sitting across from each other, laughing over a ridiculous prank.

And then, to your complete and utter surprise—

Spencer reached out and gently tapped your hand.

It was barely a touch. Just the brush of his fingertips against your wrist.

But his smile softened, and his voice dipped slightly as he murmured—

“You’re kind of amazing, you know that?”

Your breath caught.

And suddenly, you were so glad you had planned this prank.

Because if it got this reaction from Spencer Reid?

It was absolutely worth it.

579 notes · View notes

sayruq · 11 months ago

Text

The chief prosecutor of the International Criminal Court announced on Monday that he is seeking arrest warrants against two top Israeli leaders for crimes in the Gaza Strip. Karim Khan said that he had “reasonable grounds to believe” that Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and defense minister Yoav Gallant “bear criminal responsibility” for a number of international crimes committed since 8 October, including starvation as a weapon of war, murder, intentionally attacking civilians, extermination, persecution and other crimes against humanity.

While there will be relief that finally Israel’s shield of immunity and impunity is being punctured, Khan also charged several leaders of the Palestinian resistance movement Hamas with various crimes. Khan claims that Hamas politburo leader Ismail Haniyeh, its Gaza leader Yahya Sinwar and the chief of its military wing Muhammad Deif are responsible for crimes including extermination, murder, hostage-taking, torture and rape. The political nature of the charges against the Hamas leaders is clear from the fact that Khan has charged more Palestinians with crimes than Israelis. A cynical view might be that Khan only charged the two Israeli leaders that Washington wants to see gone, while letting countless other Israeli political and military officials off the hook – at least for now.

It is notable that while Khan explicitly charged the Palestinian leaders with “torture,” that word does not appear in the charges against Netanyahu and Gallant, even though there are many credible reports of systematic torture against Palestinians on a horrifying scale, including in closed detention camps. Most glaringly, Khan failed to lay any charges against Netanyahu and Gallant under Article 6 of the ICC’s founding Rome Statute – the section that deals with genocide.He only charged them under chapters 7 and 8, which address crimes against humanity and war crimes – the same articles he used against the Hamas leaders. Khan could also have filed charges related to Israeli crimes elsewhere in Palestine, for example Israel’s construction of illegal colonies all over the occupied West Bank – a crime that has been ongoing for decades. By failing to do so, he is feeding the false impression that history began on 7 October 2023.

But this will also be of no surprise to anyone, least of all Hamas leaders, who would have expected to be charged as the price of obtaining some measure of international justice for their people. In January, for instance, Mousa Abu Marzouk, a senior leader of Hamas, wrote, “Since 2015 Hamas has repeatedly expressed its interest in appearing before and being judged by the ICC not on the basis of unsubstantiated allegations and screams but evidence and facts. Israel has not.” Abu Marzouk added: “Hamas stands ready to appear before the ICC with witnesses and live testimony and bear the burden of any judicial finding against it or its members after a full and fair trial with rules of evidence; with examination and cross examination into what we have done or not over the many years of our leadership as a national liberation movement. Is Israel?”

The arrest warrants – which have still to be formally issued by the court’s judges – will have no immediate impact on Sinwar or Deif, whose whereabouts as underground resistance leaders is unknown. Arrest by the ICC is the least of their concerns. As for Hamas politburo chief Ismail Haniyeh, he lives in Qatar, which is one of only a handful of countries that is not a member of the ICC and is therefore not legally obligated to arrest him and hand him over. Hamas is already outlawed and subject to sanctions by the United States and across Europe so it is not as if the movement’s leaders would have been moving freely anyway.

And although Khan has pulled his punches, the arrest warrants will have an enormous impact on Israel and its leaders, who now find themselves ostracized and constrained in unprecedented ways. Netanyahu and Gallant will be unable to travel to dozens of countries, including most of Europe, without fear of arrest. European countries, in particular, which purport to uphold international law, will either have to detain them and hand them over to the court, or openly defy their legal obligations. This includes Germany, which provides arms for Israel’s genocide while purporting to be a champion of international law.The damage to Israel’s reputation and its descent into even greater pariah status is assured, despite Khan’s every effort to soften the blow. The United States, Israel’s chief arms supplier and accomplice in the genocide, is also not a member of the ICC, and it will not cooperate with the arrest warrants. But even for a government as heedless of international law as Washington, the leaders of its closest ally being charged by the ICC increases both the domestic and international political cost of supporting Israel unconditionally.

#yemen #jerusalem #tel aviv #current events #palestine #free palestine #gaza #free gaza #news on gaza #palestine news #news update #war news #war on gaza #palestinian resistance #benjamin netanyahu #gaza genocide #icc #international criminal court #genocide

1K notes · View notes

zepskies · 3 months ago

Text

BETWEEN THE CITY & THE STARS || Series Masterlist

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: In the fall of 1945, Dean is having a difficult time assimilating back into civilian life after the War. He’s visiting his brother Sam in New York City, where he’s beginning to build up his law firm. At two minutes to closing time, you interrupt their evening to solicit a solicitor. Your request? You need help in order to divorce your husband.

AN: Here we go - my last short series for @jacklesversebingo, and my first time writing a 1940s AU! I've had a lot of fun on this one. 🥰

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: Historical Epic

Series Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Angst, PSTD/trauma, WWII history, infidelity/cheating, eventual smut, lawyer!Sam, soldier!Dean, hurt/comfort, fluff, heavily inspired by The Clock (1945), starring Judy Garland and Robert Walker.

🎵 Listen While You Read:

Music Playlist: YouTube || Spotify

Playlist Poster || Moodboard

Chapters:

✦ Part 1: Legal Grounds

✦ Part 2: Devil May Care

✦ Part 3: A Moment

✦ Part 4: Complicit

✦ Part 5: Dried Ink

Series Complete!

Join My Patreon 🌟 Get early access to new stories, bonus content, and first looks at upcoming stories, send me requests, and more!

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Masterlist

Dean Winchester Series List

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Follow @zepskieswrites (with notifications on) to get notified every time I drop a new story or chapter. 💜

Dean Winchester Tag List (Part 1)

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @mostlymarvelgirl

@iamsapphine @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @deans-spinster-witch

@deans-baby-momma @sanscas @kaleldobrev @spnwoman @samanddeaninatrenchcoat

@globetrotter28 @adoringanakin @midnightmadwoman @chevroletdean @iprobablyshipit91

@chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @spnfamily-j2 @pieandmonsters

@deansbbyx @sarahgracej @chernayawidow @mimaria420 @stoneyggirl2

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @waywardxwords @waynes-multiverse @twinkleinadiamondsky @mxltifxnd0m

@my-stories-vault @kayleighwinchester @rizlowwritessortof @samslvrgirl @tortureddarkstar

@tmb510 @syrma-sensei @artemys-ackles @malindacath @mrsjenniferwinchester

@jc-winchester @charmed-asylum @fromcaintodean

366 notes · View notes

lookinthymirror · 2 months ago

Text

Let’s talk about October 8th

Edit: I stupidly forgot the author…This beautiful piece was written by Masha Gabriel, the director of CAMERA’s Spanish department, CAMERA Español.

Oct. 8, however, took on a uniquely Jewish significance. The focus shifted from the event itself to the reactions it provoked. Rather than universal empathy for the victims, what followed was a wave of hatred. If the seventh was marked by extreme violence, the eighth saw this evil rationalized and fitted into ideological frameworks.

As horrifying images circulated, Europe witnessed jubilant celebrations and the rise of openly antisemitic voices justifying the slaughter, while others sought to deny the atrocities witnessed by the world. Never before had such a massacre been met with such public rejoicing and unashamed antisemitism in Western streets.

This mix of celebration, denial and justification paradoxically formed a cohesive ideological front that permeated intellectual, artistic, media and educational spheres. Oct. 8 reminded many Jews that they stood alone, while Islamist totalitarians had enough allies in the West to reignite existential Jewish fears never fully buried.

Holocaust historian Georges Bensoussan reflected on these events likening them to a “second act” of the Holocaust, saying: “Jews reacted with their long memory of persecution and, more poignantly, their recent memory of the Shoah. Oct. 7 was seen as a prelude to a potential catastrophe, awakening existential fears even among the most empathetic observers.”

In a mutating Western world, however, compassionate voices were often drowned out by orchestrated narratives aimed at erasing any possibility of coexistence. Jews were attacked globally in response to the violence in Israel with hatred spreading like wildfire, filling streets with angry mobs and antisemitic chants, and targeting Jewish sites from cemeteries to synagogues.

Under the guise of radical slogans, terrorism’s useful pawns waged war on the free world and were met largely with cowardly silence. To sustain this lack of empathy for Jewish victims, some segments of the left sought to dehumanize Israelis, even comparing them to Nazis.

Such distortions only deepened Jewish trauma and deflected from legitimate discourse on conflict resolution. Terms like “genocide” were misapplied, ignoring legal definitions and historical context, further complicating efforts toward peace.

Ironically, those who claim moral high ground often fuel antisemitism and fixate on demonizing Zionism—an anticolonial movement that enabled the self-determination of an indigenous people in their homeland, ensuring equal rights for all citizens, regardless of race, gender or status.

Oct. 8 symbolizes not only Jewish isolation but also a profound moral failure of the West that is incapable of protecting its minorities or educating against historical and emotional illiteracy fostered through empty slogans, which, as French philosopher Raphael Enthoven aptly put it, “substitutes for thought.”

#antisemitism

357 notes · View notes

rosemaryhoney27 · 3 days ago

Text

Tiny Blades and Big Chaos”

aka: Danny vs. Damian: Politeness vs. Precision, Featuring Ghost Tricks and Sibling Rivalry

It was Alfred’s idea, of course.

“Master Daniel seems rather adept at handling himself,” he said, very reasonably. “A joint sparring session with Master Damian might help them… bond.”

Vlad had sputtered. “Bond? Bond over what? Hidden knives and bloodlust?!”

“Yes,” said Alfred, calm as ever. “Precisely.”

Wayne Manor Training Room, 9:00 AM

The Batkids lined the edges of the mat like kids waiting for recess drama. Jason brought popcorn. Tim had his tablet recording. Steph was live-texting Cass with updates. Dick had his camera ready and a big brother grin on his face like this is gonna be great.

Damian stood at the center of the mat, wooden sword in hand, the sharpness in his eyes making up for the lack of steel. “You are not a trained assassin,” he said flatly, glaring at Danny. “This will not be gentle.”

Danny smiled, still in his hoodie and sweats, holding a practice staff Alfred handed him. “That’s okay. I’m kinda hard to kill.”

Damian narrowed his eyes. “We’ll see.”

Bruce, from the sidelines, muttered to Vlad, “This’ll go fine.”

Vlad whispered back, “This is a war crime waiting to happen.”

Round One: Damian Attacks First

Damian moved like lightning—precise, deadly, fast. His wooden sword swung for Danny’s side, a feint to the legs, followed by a spinning strike meant to knock him off balance.

Danny vanished.

Literally. Vanished. A shimmer of light and he phased right through the blade like a friendly ghost playing tag.

“What—?!” Damian turned, just in time to catch Danny gently tapping his shoulder with the staff. “Tag.”

Steph: “OH MY GOD HE GHOSTED THROUGH IT—”

Jason: “Ten bucks says he phases through the floor next.”

Vlad: weeping in the corner “He does this all the time. You’re all just ENCOURAGING HIM.”

Round Two: Damian Gets Serious

“You are not using proper rules of engagement,” Damian growled.

“I’m literally just floating,” Danny said, upside down mid-air. “Not my fault physics loves me.”

“Fight me like a warrior!”

“Okay,” Danny said—and then let the staff drop.

He raised his hands, and a soft, eerie glow covered them. His feet touched the ground. The temperature dipped just a little. Shadows crept a little too long.

“Wanna go full-power?” he asked, still smiling, but something in his voice had changed.

Everyone shut up.

Damian grinned like a tiny feral goblin. “Yes.”

What Followed Could Not Be Legally Described As Training

To summarize:

Danny dodged a flying kick by phasing through a wall and reappearing behind Damian like a horror movie jump scare.

Damian managed to tag Danny across the ribs, earning a respectful, “Nice hit!”

Danny retaliated by sliding through the floor, then popping up behind Damian to ruffle his hair, making him scream in rage.

Cass showed up halfway through, said nothing, and started rating their moves out of 10.

Alfred brought out lemon water and towels like this was completely normal.

Bruce was watching with an expression that said, I need to update our supernatural sparring protocols.

At one point, Danny caught Damian mid-air (after a parkour wall run), gently set him down, and said, “I’m only going easy because Vlad said if I break a Wayne he loses custody.”

“Fight me properly or I will THROW YOU,” Damian roared, red-faced.

Danny giggled.

He giggled.

Afterwards

They were both sweaty, bruised, and grinning like maniacs. Damian sat on the bench, panting, sipping water with a glare that could melt titanium.

“That was acceptable,” he muttered. “You are chaotic and dishonorable. I approve.”

Danny wiped his face with a towel. “Thanks! You fight like my sister’s evil clone. High praise.”

“Can you teach me to phase through walls?”

“Only if you promise not to sneak up on people during 2 AM snack runs.”

“…No promises.”

Jason tossed Danny a granola bar. “Welcome to the family, baby ghost.”

Danny blinked. “Wait, you mean I passed?”

“You suplexed a grown man and survived Damian. You’re in.”

“Officially a Wayne now,” Steph said, taking a picture. “Smile!”

Danny grinned just as Vlad walked in with a cup of tea and despair on his face.

“I leave you alone for one hour. One! What happened?!”

Damian pointed dramatically. “He cheats.”

“He used no blade.”

“He walked through a wall!”

“He told the shadows to ‘wait their turn.’”

Vlad blinked. “That last one actually is new.”

Danny smiled. “It’s a learning environment, Uncle Vlad.”

#dpxdc #jason todd #danny fenton #danny phantom #vlad plasmius #batman #vlad is tired #damian wayne #jason todd is a little shit #timothy drake wayne #danny fenton is a little shit #alfred pennyworth

168 notes · View notes

synchodai · 10 months ago

Text

HBO's Continued Insistence on Dumbing Down Westerosi Politics

So there have been countless thinkpieces already on how GOT simplified the feudalist politics of Westeros (by giving a lowborn sellsword lordship over The Reach, by having no consequences for destroying the Sept of Baelor, etc.), but I haven't seen a lot of people talking about that for House of the Dragon.

The worst being that the show presupposes that Rhaenyra is the lawful heir when the books showed there are plenty of lawful arguments why she wouldn't be.

Mind you that I've been enjoying the show a lot so far. This is just to vent out my frustration with the writers' failure to fully engage with the values and protocols of the Middle Age-inspired setting. The show seems uninterested in laws of the Realm in a story ostensibly about politics, save for when they're using it as an excuse to amplify depictions of sex and violence.

Blacks vs Greens wasn't a matter of misunderstanding of who each side thought Viserys wanted on the throne. It was the Targaryens' belief of their absolute authority clashing with the Realm's established traditions. Everyone always knew who Viserys chose as heir. In Fire and Blood, Grand Maester Orwyle said as much when he was parleying with Rhaenyra on behalf of the Greens.

Rhaenyra heard his terms in stony silence, then asked Orwyle if he remembered her father, King Viserys. "Of course, Your Grace," the maester answered. "Perhaps you can tell us who he named as his heir and successor," the queen said, her crown upon her head. "You, Your Grace," Orwyle replied. And Rhaenyra nodded and said, "With your own tongue you admit I am your lawful queen. Why do you serve my half-brother, the pretender?" Munkun tells us that Orwyle gave a long and erudite reply, citing the Andal law and the Great Council of 101. Mushroom claims he stammered and voided his bladder. Whichever is true, his answer did not satisfy Princess Rhaenyra.

(For non-F&B readers: Munkun is the Grand Maester who served Aegon III, the king who came after this civil war. Munkun's book, The Dance of the Dragons, A True Telling, is one of Fire and Blood's source texts. Mushroom is the King Landing court jester from Viserys I to Aegon III's reign. One is a source written with academic rigor but is secondhand at best. The other is a firsthand eyewitness account but is from a literal fool who will take every chance to make things more scandalous and sexual to please the crowd.)

In House of the Dragon, they replaced Orwyle with Otto and Orwyle's discussion of legal precedent with Otto handing Rhaenyra a book page from Alicent. It's quite evident here that the writers, much like Mushroom, thought a discussion on the actual laws of the Realm were negligible in this story about a succession war.

Even Alicent made no pretense that Viserys chose Rhaenyra over her children and I have no idea why the HBO writers decided to make her mistakenly think otherwise. Maybe they thought a queen regent pushing her son to take the throne over another woman made her appear unsympathetic as a character, but if anything, this only makes show!Alicent less politically savvy and more delusional than her book counterpart, fully believing an addled king's vague muttering on his deathbed was sufficient grounds to change heirs last minute.

Book!Alicent following Andal laws instead of her husband's wishes makes sense given her Andal upbringing, her devotion to the Faith of the Seven which enforces said laws, and her desire to protect her children from Rhaenyra given that Rhaenyra has shown she's not above murdering family (see: Laenor).

In the books, there was a long discussion between the former king's council on who should succeed Viserys.

Here are the arguments for Rhaenyra:

Rhaenyra was older than her brothers and had more Targaryen blood

the late king had chosen her as his successor, that he had repeatedly refused to alter the succession despite the pleadings of Queen Alicent and her greens

hundreds of lords and landed knights had done obeisance to the princess in 105 AC, and sworn solemn oaths to defend her rights.

Here are the arguments for Aegon II:

many of the lords who had sworn to defend the succession of Princess Rhaenyra were long dead [...]

Ironrod, the master of laws, cited the Great Council of 101 and the Old King’s choice of Baelon rather than Rhaenys in 92

the hallowed Andal tradition wherein the rights of a trueborn son always came before the rights of a mere daughter

Ser Otto reminded them that Rhaenyra’s husband was none other than Prince Daemon, and “we all know that one’s nature. Make no mistake, should Rhaenyra ever sit the Iron Throne, it will be Lord Flea Bottom who rules us, a king consort as cruel and unforgiving as Maegor ever was [...]”

Should the princess reign [...] Jacaerys Velaryon would rule after her. “Seven save this realm if we seat a bastard on the Iron Throne.”

Once again, the show chose to cut out this long political discussion. Instead, the council had already made up their mind and decided to stage a coup (when in their perspectives from the books, it would definitely not be a coup).

For all their marketing how two sides are equally grey, HotD is actively delegitimizing Aegon II. The strongest argument for him is how his claim follows the laws of the Realm, but the show doesn't seem to care about the laws of the Realm or the political need to maintain a more predictable/tested transfer of power.

Instead, the show focuses on Viserys's relationship with his daughter and the mysticism of the Targaryen bloodline. In doing so, they emphasize Rhaenyra's strongest arguments for succession — that she's more of a Targaryen than her half-brother and that her father prefered her.

And what for? Because in our modern-day, we don't have male-prefered inheritance and people can only imagine misogyny as the only injustice here? What about the injustice of a monarch exercising absolute control, thinking that his "superior" heritage makes him above the established laws of the native people?

This is not to say Aegon II is unquestionably the heir. But this is to say that the show removed the political nuance of why people are questioning in the first place. Precedence isn't the end-all-be-all of succession, but neither is "because daddy said so".

#hotd critical #hotd #house of the dragon #Fire and blood #A song of ice and fire #asoiaf #Long post #this doesn't mean I think the writers are Team Black #I just think the writers can't shake off their 21st century values enough to portray the Greens as an equally valid side #They're too girlboss-pilled #Imagine that Queen Nymeria page scene where Rhaenyra asks Otto why he defies the orders of his late king #Otto: The laws of the Realm decree that the crown pass to the king's eldest trueborn son #Rhaenyra: The laws of the Realm? The king's word is law and it is within his power to overturn these unjust traditions #Otto: The king's will is only one of many. The crown's power is derived from the support of its people. Jaehaerys the Conciliator himself—#Rhaenyra: Perhaps the people have forgotten that my forebears did not forge the Iron Throne with “support” but with fire and blood.#There you've shown why this civil war happened and why people fall on either side

695 notes · View notes

i-am-aprl · 8 months ago

Text

🚨 ISRAEL BURNS HUNDREDS ALIVE IN SCHOOL - EMAIL YOUR ELECTED OFFICIAL 🚨

Israel has killed over 100 Palestinians during morning prayers at Al-Taba’een School in the Al-Daraj neighbourhood of eastern Gaza City.

Israeli military aircraft targeted the school while worshippers were performing Fajr (dawn) prayers, according to reports from the Palestinian news agency Wafa.

The sheer power of the bombing tore people apart and incinerated what remained. The photos and videos from inside the school are beyond words.

At the time of the bombing, over 6,000 Palestinians were sheltering in the school. The current death toll is expected to rise, with the number of injuries still being counted, though they are anticipated to be in the hundreds.

“The school area is strewn with dead bodies and body parts. It is very difficult for paramedics to identify whole bodies. There’s an arm here, a leg there. Bodies have been ripped to pieces.” - Mahmoud Basal, Gaza Civil Defence.

Israel claims with every heinous war crime that they are targeting Palestinian resistance fighters. However, evidence for this is often non-existent. Even if it were true, in some of these school bombings, the death and injury toll has seen up to 80% of the casualties being children.

Families and children are sheltering in these schools. Under no circumstances is it ever acceptable or legal under international law to bomb a school. Yet, Israel, with the full backing of the US, UK, and Germany, has bombed over 150 schools in Gaza with impunity.

WHEN WILL ISRAEL BE HELD ACCOUNTABLE FOR THEIR WAR CRIMES?

👉 EMAIL YOUR ELECTED OFFICIAL NOW! USE THE FREE TEMPLATE IN @HumantiProject’s bio or visit HumantiProject.org 👈

——

* Sources: AJ, Middle East Monitor, Ahmed Kouta, Sky News, and other journalists on the ground.

#palestine #gaza #free palestine #jerusalem #i stand with palestine #israel #فلسطين #free gaza #israel is a terrorist state #israeli war crimes

598 notes · View notes

shizuturnspages · 2 months ago

Note

They say that capitano isn't actually dead his soul if just resting and is just a matter of time until he returns. Bro imagine when the reader leaves and they're probably in another part of snezhnaya or another country and one day while day were just enjoying life they see capitano... At first they thought they were hallucinating until he spoke

Ding-Dong, The Tin Can’s Back

You were living your best life.

Ever since Capitano’s glorious sacrifice, you had been thriving. No more ridiculous training drills at sunrise. No more stern lectures about “discipline” and “proper behaviour.” And most importantly? No more Capitano.

You had escaped the Fatui stronghold and were finally free.

So, there you were, sitting outside a quaint little café in Fontaine, sipping on a ridiculously overpriced tea, minding your damn business.

Then—

A massive shadow loomed over you.

You froze.

A deep, familiar voice rumbled, “… You seem well.”

Your tea cup slipped from your fingers and shattered on the ground.

Slowly, painfully slowly, you turned your head.

And there. Standing in front of you. Clad in that shiny-ass armour. A presence so unmistakable that it sent a shiver down your spine—

CAPITANO.

ALIVE.

Or—undead? A ghost? A hallucination?!

Your brain completely short-circuited. You squinted. Blinked once. Twice.

“… Nope.” You turned back around. “Nope. Not real. I refuse. My life is good. My life is peaceful. My life does NOT include my legally dead war criminal babysitter.”

Capitano did not disappear.

“… Are you ignoring me?” he asked.

You picked up a spoon and stared into the reflection like a lunatic. “I am hallucinating due to prolonged exposure to childhood trauma. It’s not real if I don’t acknowledge it.”

Capitano sighed. That deep, exasperated sigh you thought you’d never have to hear again.

“I see you have not changed.”

Your eye twitched.

Very, very slowly, you turned back toward him and stared.

This was not happening. This was not happening.

Your eye twitched so hard you nearly pulled a muscle.

This had to be a prank. Or a fever dream. Or maybe, just maybe, hell was real, and you were being punished for every time you’d cussed him out.

You grabbed a random bystander. “EXCUSE ME, DO YOU SEE THE SEVEN-FOOT-TALL MURDER MACHINE IN FRONT OF ME?”

The terrified Fontainian nodded furiously.

“Oh, shit.”

"You thought you could escape?"

"I FUCKING DID!"

"You thought I was dead?"

"YOU FUCKING WERE!"

"… Incorrect," he rumbled, stepping closer, "here I am."

You took one deep breath. And then:

"WHY CAN’T YOU JUST STAY DEAD?!"

Capitano said nothing. He just tilted his head.

"Because I have unfinished business."

You pointed aggressively. "YEAH, WELL, FINISH IT SOMEWHERE ELSE!"

But he didn’t move. Didn’t blink.

You threw a baguette at his head.

It bounced off his helmet with a sad little ‘bonk.’

Capitano did not react.

Silence.

Then, very calmly, he asked, “… Was that supposed to do something?”

You stood up so fast, your chair fell over. “I—NO—HOW—WHY—”

Your entire body short-circuited. You were 99% sure you were having a stroke.

And then, Capitano delivered the final blow.

“I assume you still remember your combat training. I expect you back at the stronghold by dawn.”

Your soul physically left your body.

You grabbed your bag, turned around, and sprinted into the Fontaine harbour.

Capitano watched as you dove straight into the ocean, disappearing beneath the waves without hesitation.

A Fatui agent hesitantly approached him. “… Sir, should we—?”

“No,” Capitano said. “They will return.”

The agent frowned. “How can you be so sure?”

Capitano tilted his head.

“… They left their wallet.”

And that was the day you became Fontaine’s first-ever international drowning attempt survivor.

162 notes · View notes

olderwomenenthusiast · 2 months ago

Text

she's in control (alex cabot)

PAIRING: alex cabot & fem reader DESCRIPTION: you were meant to be focusing on the team's meeting but alex made sure you were only focused on her CAUTION: semi-public sex, spanking, oral, fingering, slight degradation, power dynamics; dominance and submissive, vibrating painties, reader recieving, aftercare! WORD COUNT: 3.2k AUTHOR'S NOTE: i haven't proof read this, let me know if it doesn't flow or there are any mistakes! x

The precinct was heavy with the weight of the case, the fluorescent lights casting a clinical glow over the room. Every face around the table was grim, brows furrowed in concentration as they pored over evidence, their minds sharpened by urgency. The air smelled of stale coffee and exhaustion, a familiar scent that usually kept you grounded in moments like this.

But right now, no amount of familiarity could anchor you.

Because beneath the sturdy conference table, hidden from every detective, sergeant, and assistant district attorney in the room, a secret war was waging inside you.

Your panties were vibrating.

It was subtle at first, a faint hum that barely registered over the murmur of conversation. But your body noticed immediately. Heat prickled over your skin, and your breath stilled in your chest as the sensation bloomed between your thighs. Your grip on your pen tightened, knuckles white as you forced yourself to keep still.

Across the room, Alex Cabot sat poised, the very picture of composure. Blonde hair pulled back into a perfect bun, glasses perched on the bridge of her nose, she exuded nothing but professionalism. To anyone else, she was absorbed in the case file before her, flipping through the pages with steady, meticulous hands.

But you knew better.

You knew that the phone in her hand wasn’t just for checking emails or reviewing legal documents. You knew that with the slightest flick of her finger, she could send another pulse of pleasure through you, controlling you from across the room.

Your panties. Her rules.

Your stomach clenched, desire curling low in your abdomen as the vibration intensified, still gentle, just enough to make you aware of it, to make you ache.

You swallowed hard. Focus. Stay calm.

A grainy surveillance photo of a dark alleyway stared up at you from the file, but you couldn’t process a single detail. You were hyper-aware of every sensation - the soft throb between your legs, the way your skin flushed with warmth, the way your thighs clenched together in a desperate attempt to relieve the ache Alex was so cruelly stoking.

And then nothing.

The vibration stopped.

Your breath left you in a quiet, controlled exhale. Relief and frustration warred inside you as you forced yourself to steady your hands. Maybe she was done. Maybe she’d had her fun.

Then a new wave hit.

Stronger. Fucking hell babe.

Your body jolted. Just a tiny movement, but enough.

"Something wrong?" Fin’s voice broke through the haze clouding your mind. His dark eyes flicked toward you, brow raised.

Oh shit.

You forced yourself to blink, to shake off the heat creeping up your neck. "No. Just thinking."

You swore you could feel Alex’s eyes on you, but when you dared a glance in her direction, she was the very picture of professionalism. The only giveaway was the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of her lips, almost imperceptible.

She was enjoying this. Savoring every second.

And you were completely at her mercy.

The vibrations stopped again. Your body ached at the sudden loss, but you couldn’t allow yourself to react. Not here. Not in a room full of detectives trained to notice the slightest shift in body language.

A beat passed. Then another.

You allowed yourself to relax, just a little.

And then Alex turned the dial higher. Shitshitshit.

Your breath hitched, and a sharp pulse of pleasure slammed into you. This wasn’t teasing anymore. This was punishment.

Heat pooled between your legs, your pulse pounding in your ears as you struggled to stay still. You clenched your jaw, forcing yourself to grip the table as your entire body tensed. The pleasure was unbearable, just on the edge of overwhelming, and yet you had no choice but to endure it.

Alex was playing a dangerous game.

"Hey," Olivia called your name, her sharp gaze locking onto you. "You good?"

Fuck.

You couldn’t speak immediately. Couldn’t even move. You knew your face must have been flushed, your breath just slightly too uneven. You were seconds away from completely unraveling.

Then Alex spoke.

“Maybe they need a break,” she suggested smoothly, not even looking up from her file. Her voice was calm, completely unbothered, as if she weren’t the reason you were struggling to hold yourself together.

You shot her a glare, but all she did was lift one perfectly sculpted brow. She was mocking you, daring you to challenge her.

Oh, she was going to pay for this later.

But for now, she was in control. She always is.

And as she pressed another button on her phone, sending another sharp, pulsing vibration through your body, you realized something chilling.

You barely made it through the rest of the briefing. Every second was torture. Alex’s calculated teasing, the unbearable pressure building inside you, the constant struggle to keep your face neutral while the SVU team carried on as if nothing was wrong.

By the time the meeting wrapped up, your body was humming with unfulfilled need, and you were desperate for relief.

The second Olivia dismissed everyone, you bolted. You didn’t even try to make it subtle, you just grabbed your case file and strode out of the conference room as fast as your legs would carry you. You could still hear the others talking behind you, but it didn’t matter. You needed to get away.

Alex knew that.

That’s why she followed.

You could feel her presence behind you, her heels clicking purposefully against the tile floor. She didn’t call out to you, didn’t make a scene. She didn’t need to.

The moment you turned the corner, she was on you.

Before you could react, Alex’s hand grabbed your wrist, pulling you into the nearest empty office. The door clicked shut behind you, and then it was just the two of you - alone, finally.

The second she let go, you spun around to face her, eyes blazing.

“What the hell was that?” you hissed, your voice sharp but quiet.

Alex didn’t answer right away. Instead, she took a slow, measured step forward, the ghost of a smirk playing at her lips. “I don’t know what you mean,” she said, her voice dripping with faux innocence.

Your whole body was still buzzing, throbbing from her relentless teasing. You clenched your fists, your frustration boiling over. “You damn well know what I mean.”

Alex just tilted her head, watching you with those piercing blue eyes, the ones that always saw too much, the ones that always stripped you bare. “You did so well,” she murmured, and the warmth in her voice sent a fresh wave of heat through you. “Not a single noise. Almost like you wanted to be good for me.”

You inhaled sharply, your fingers twitching at your sides. “Alex,” you warned.

She took another step closer, so close now that you could smell her perfume, could feel the heat radiating off her body. “Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to sit there and watch you struggle?” she murmured, her voice low and dangerous. “To know exactly how wet you were, how much you wanted to squirm, and not be able to touch you?”

Your breath caught in your throat. The air between you crackled, thick with tension. You wanted to fight her. Wanted to push her against the wall and punish her for making you suffer.

But she was faster.

Before you could react, Alex reached into her blazer pocket, pulled out her phone, and with a single press of her thumb ---

The vibrations started again.

A strangled gasp escaped you as your knees nearly buckled. The pleasure was instant, overwhelming after all the torment she had put you through. Your hands shot out, gripping the edge of the desk behind you as your body arched into the sensation.

Alex’s gaze darkened with satisfaction. “You’re so responsive,” she murmured, stepping even closer. “I think you like this more than you’re willing to admit.”

You let out a shuddering breath, barely able to focus. “Alex...”

She lifted a single finger and pressed it against your lips. “Shhh,” she whispered. “Be a good girl and take what I give you.”

Your entire body trembled.

And then she turned the dial even higher. The relentless vibration between your legs was torturous, your body wound so tight you thought you might snap.

Alex knew it. Course she did, she knew exactly how to work you.

She watched you with the sharp focus of a predator, her blue eyes dark with something deeper than just satisfaction. Power. Control. Possession.

And you had given yourself over to it.

With deliberate slowness, she reached for you, her fingertips ghosting over your hips before sliding beneath the hem of your skirt. Her touch was electric, sending sparks across your skin, but it wasn’t enough. Not after everything she had put you through.

You needed more.

"Please," you whispered, barely recognizing your own voice.

A pleased hum left her lips. "So polite," she murmured, her breath warm against your jaw. "I should reward you for that."

Then, without warning, she hooked her fingers into the waistband of your panties and dragged them down your thighs. The cool air against your flushed, aching core sent a violent shudder through you, but before you could react ---

Her teeth sank into your neck.

A sharp gasp tore from your lips as pleasure and pain mingled into something dizzying, something primal. Alex bit down hard, her mouth hot and demanding against your skin, sucking deep enough to leave a mark. One that would linger long after this moment ended.

Your hands scrambled for purchase, gripping at her blazer, her shirt, anything to ground yourself as she claimed you. The vibrations had stopped now, but the absence did nothing to ease the ache. If anything, it made you more desperate.

Then finally, she slid two fingers inside you.

The moment Alex’s fingers slid inside you, a sharp gasp tore from your lips. The stretch, the fullness, the precision of her movements, it was everything you had been aching for, everything she had been teasing you with all night. Your body clenched around her, desperate, your fingers clutching at the fabric of her blazer to keep yourself from unraveling completely.

Jesus.

Alex bit down harder on your neck, her mouth hot and unyielding as she sucked a deep, claiming bruise into your skin. The pain was sharp, intoxicating, a stark contrast to the pleasure flooding through you.

“You’re shaking,” she murmured against your throat, her voice thick with satisfaction. “You’ve been holding back all night, haven’t you?”

Her fingers curled inside you, pressing against that spot that made your knees threaten to give out. A strangled whimper escaped your lips.

Alex chuckled softly, a dark, pleased sound, before pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. Her pupils were blown wide, her lips slightly parted, her expression dripping with control and hunger.

“Look at you,” she purred. “Dripping. Needy. Desperate for me.”

Then her other hand slipped between your legs, her thumb pressing against your clit.

Another sharp cry left you, your body jolting at the sudden contact. The sensation was immediate, unbearable in the best way, after all the teasing, all the waiting, she was finally giving you what you needed.

Alex moved in slow circles, her fingers inside you matching the rhythm, coaxing, guiding, and certainly demanding.

“Shhh,” she whispered when another whimper escaped you. “Do you want the whole squad to hear how wrecked you are for me?”

You did. You didn’t care. Not when she was touching you like this, not when she was rubbing tight, merciless circles against your clit while her fingers worked you open with practiced ease.

Her mouth found your ear, her breath hot, teasing. “You’re close, aren’t you?”

You nodded frantically, unable to form words, pleasure coiling so tight in your stomach you thought you might snap from the tension.

Alex’s pace quickened. Her thumb pressed harder, her fingers thrust deeper, and just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore ---

“Cum for me.”

Her command shattered you.

Your body arched, pleasure slamming into you with an intensity that stole your breath. You clenched around her fingers, a broken moan slipping from your lips as wave after wave of release crashed over you.

Alex didn’t stop. She worked you through it, her movements steady, guiding you down from the high until you were trembling in her arms, breathless, spent, utterly wrecked.

Only then did she slow, her fingers slipping from you, her touch gentle now as she smoothed her hand over your thigh.

She leaned in, her lips brushing against the bruise she had left on your neck. “That’s my girl.”

Your head was still spinning, your body still tingling with aftershocks, but even through the haze, one thing was clear.

This wasn’t over. Not even close.

Before you could catch your breath, Alex’s hands gripped your hips, lifting you with effortless strength. Your back met the cool surface of the desk, papers scattering to the floor, but you barely noticed. Not when she was pushing your legs apart, her fingers digging harshly into your thighs as she spread you wide.

Her eyes flicked up to meet yours, dark and ravenous. “I’m not done with you.”

Then she hooked your legs over her shoulders, her breath hot against your already-sensitive core. Alex held you in place, her grip firm as her mouth descended on you. The first slow, deliberate drag of her tongue sent a sharp jolt of pleasure straight through you, making your fingers claw at the edge of the desk.

"Fuck.." The word ripped from your throat before you could stop it, but Alex only smirked against you, lips brushing your soaked skin as she chuckled darkly.

"Language," she teased, her breath a cruel, teasing heat before she licked into you again, firmer this time, her tongue flattening against your clit in a way that had your hips jerking against her.

She hummed, pleased with your reaction, and then tightened her grip on your thighs, holding you still as she truly began to devour you.

Her tongue moved with precision, flicking, circling, sucking, never staying in one spot long enough to let you adjust. The sensitivity from your first orgasm made every touch feel unbearable, too much, yet not nearly enough.

Your body writhed against the desk, your hands flying to her hair, fingers tangling in the soft strands as if grounding yourself was the only way to keep from unraveling completely.

Alex groaned at that, the vibration sinking deep into you, making your breath hitch.

“You taste so fucking good,” she murmured between strokes, her voice thick, dripping with hunger. She flicked her tongue over your clit again before sucking it into her mouth, sending another shockwave of pleasure crashing through you.

Your back arched violently, another strangled moan escaping your lips.

Alex didn't let up. If anything, she doubled down, her tongue working you over with ruthless intent. When she slid two fingers back inside you, curling them just right, you knew you were done for.

"A-Alex --" Your voice was nothing more than a desperate whimper, your body trembling against the desk.

"I know," she murmured, her lips brushing against you between strokes. "Cum for me again. I want to feel you fall apart."

Her words, her touch, her voice. It was all too much.

The tension in your core snapped, pleasure flooding through you like a tidal wave. Your thighs shook against her shoulders, your fingers gripping her hair tightening even more as you came hard, a broken cry spilling from your lips.

Alex groaned as she worked you through it, her tongue and fingers relentless, drawing out every last aftershock until you were nothing more than a trembling, gasping mess beneath her.

Only when your body finally sagged against the desk, boneless and spent, did she pull away, placing one last teasing kiss against your thigh before straightening.

Her eyes were heavy with satisfaction as she dragged the back of her hand across her mouth, wiping away the evidence of just how thoroughly she had ruined you.

She smirked. "I should keep you on this desk more often."

Your chest heaved, your limbs still weak. Alex’s eyes softened as she watched you, still sprawled across the desk, your chest heaving with each breath. Her expression shifted from the intense hunger of moments before to something gentler, more protective.

She didn’t need to say anything. Her hands were already on you, tenderly adjusting your body so you were sitting upright, her fingers brushing through your hair, smoothing it back from your face.

“Easy,” she murmured, her voice soothing, her touch gentle as she lifted you carefully off the desk. You felt dizzy, light-headed, the effects of your orgasm still rippling through you in waves.

Alex supported your weight, guiding you toward the chair, her hands steady, never once letting you wobble or fall. She knelt down in front of you, her fingers carefully massaging the tension from your shoulders.

“I’ve got you,” she whispered, as she worked her way down to your wrists, her touch light but sure, coaxing the last remnants of strain from your body.

You were too tired to speak, your voice still a bit shaky, but you leaned into her touch, closing your eyes for a moment, just letting yourself relax.

She stood, pulling a blanket from the chair and wrapping it around you like a protective cocoon. Her hands lingered, her fingers tracing soothing circles on your skin as she sat down beside you, holding you close.

“You did so well,” she said softly, pressing a kiss to your temple, her lips lingering there for a moment. “Just breathe. Let me take care of you now.”

Her hands were warm as they moved over your body, a contrast to the cool air around you. She ran her fingers gently over your thighs, down your arms, offering you comfort in every touch, grounding you back to reality.

She didn’t rush you, didn’t demand anything more from you. Just slow, soft caresses that reminded you of her presence—solid, steady, always there for you.

“Are you feeling okay?” she asked, her voice low, almost protective now.

You nodded slowly, unable to form words just yet, still caught in the aftermath of everything she’d given you.

Alex gave you a soft smile, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, her touch tender. “I know it was a lot. Just relax. I’m not going anywhere.”

You melted into her embrace, your body still humming, but safe, warm, cherished in the aftermath.

She kissed your forehead, and for a moment, all the intense energy of the night seemed to fade into something soft, something that felt like home.

You could feel yourself drifting into a gentle calm, the stress of the day, the hunger from earlier, all fading away under her care.

As the silence settled around the two of you, Alex’s fingers continued their slow, rhythmic movements over your skin. It was a different kind of connection now, one built on trust and tenderness.

This wasn’t over. Not yet. But for now, you were exactly where you needed to be.

"I love you, Alex." you whispered.

"And I love you."

#alex cabot #alex cabot x reader #alexandra cabot #stephanie march #alex cabot x you #alex cabot x fem!reader #law and order svu #svu #l&o svu #svu smut #alex cabot smut #tv shows

186 notes · View notes

read-marx-and-lenin · 3 months ago

Note

It's a good pamphlet and clearly the DDR needed to defend itself. But it doesn't explain why they had to shoot civilians trying to leave the East

I'm not going to say I support the "shoot to kill" orders. I don't. I think they were the wrong move on the part of the GDR and led to unnecessary and tragic deaths. But I also think you have to look at it objectively and in the context of the wall itself.

In 1959, the GDR announced the discovery of classified NATO documents outlining a potential invasion of East Germany using West Berlin as a staging ground, dubbed "Operation DECO II". Neither NATO nor the FRG have ever confirmed or denied the authenticity of these documents, but they align with Western refusal to agree to any plans for reunification that did not involve a NATO-aligned Germany.

In 1960, the Sino-Soviet Split occurs, France becomes a nuclear power, and NATO deploys nuclear missiles in Italy. In June 1961, two months before construction of the Wall, NATO deploys nuclear missiles in Turkey. In October 1961, the USSR detonates the largest nuclear bomb ever created. In 1962, the Cuban Missile Crisis occurs. And in 1963, Kennedy makes his "Ich bin ein Berliner" speech, proclaiming his opposition to communism and the defensive actions of the GDR.

From 1957 to 1961, the head of the West German military was Adolf Heusinger, a former high-ranking Wehrmacht general who helped to plan the Nazi invasion of the Soviet Union. From 1961 to 1964, Heusinger was Chairman of the NATO Military Committee. After Konrad Adenauer had ended denazification in West Germany early, many such instances of former Nazis and Nazi collaborators coming to power and prominence within West Germany had occurred, which is part of the reason why the GDR dubbed the Wall the "Anti-Fascist Protection Wall".

This period marked the highest point in tensions between East and West during the Cold War. Around the world, revolutionary movements were growing, and the capitalists and imperialists were becoming more belligerent in turn. The GDR was dealing with saboteurs and spies and Western agents bribing skilled workers to encourage defection. It is no surprise then that according to a 2011 study into the 136 deaths attributed by the authors to the Wall (and not all of these deaths were of civilians), more than half occurred from 1961 to 1966. However, over 50,000 arrests were made due to border crossing attempts that did not result in death, and by the 1980s there were millions of legal crossings from East to West Berlin approved by the GDR, the vast majority of which later returned to the GDR.

Every death that happened due to the Wall is a death that should not have happened. But the Wall is not some totalitarian construct the evil communists created to trap people and prevent their escape. It was a means of defense against the aggression of the capitalist world towards a vulnerable socialist state forced to host a capitalist enclave. In a just world, West Berlin would never have existed in the first place. In a just world, NATO would have accepted the Soviet proposal for a neutral and unified Germany and Germany would not have been separated for decades. The Anti-Fascist Protection Wall served its purpose and prevented what could have been a major escalation in the Cold War.

When the Wall fell and capitalism was forced upon East Germany, immediately there were major increases in poverty, unemployment, and homelessness, something that occurred across Eastern Europe during the period of neoliberal "shock therapy" as labor protections and welfare systems were removed and state enterprises were privatized. To this day, East Germany remains poorer than West Germany despite over thirty years of glorious free market capitalism to mend the divide. I do not have any concrete numbers, but I would not be surprised if the total number of deaths relating to post-reunification poverty exceeded the number of deaths attributed to the Wall.