#one was killed and the other taken hostage

[rinielelrandir]

If you follow me and in any way, shape, or form think the Israeli civilians killed and kidnapped on 07Oct (including children! including old people! including goddamn peace activists working for Palestinian liberation longer than some of us have been alive!) *deserved* what happened by virtue of being Israeli? Do me a favor and unfollow me. This is me showing you the door, please see yourself out, I do not want to have a conversation with you about this. (See tags for caveat.) Because killing of non-combatants is never okay.

It literally does not matter which "side" you are on here. To be clear, I do not agree with being on any "side", this isn't a fucking sports match. These are real people being straight up murdered. Palestinian and Israeli. Both for having the misfortune to be born the wrong country or the wrong religion. That will always be wrong. Hamas is wrong. The Israeli government is wrong. Because killing civilians is always wrong. That's it. That's the takeaway. You don't get to say "Palestinians have a right to self-defense" as a justification for 07Oct. Self-defense does not extend to civilian targets. To non-combatants. To CHILDREN.

And to be quite clear, I will not accept "Israel has a right to self-defense" as a justification for the killing of Palestinian civilians but I'm largely not seeing that from Jewish leftists, including Israelis and including Zionists. I'm largely seeing them call for a ceasefire and for peace and condemn the Israeli government and its actions.

But I *am* seeing fellow western leftists, particularly non-Jews, defend Hamas and the 07Oct attacks in their desire to stand with Palestine. You have to stop doing that. Hamas are not the good guys, you can read their damn charter documents online. You can read analyses of them by experts - Hamas is a religious extremist group intent on imposing jihadist control over the entire region and eliminating all Jews. It's not something they've been secretive about. They routinely kidnap, torture, and kill PALESTINIAN peace activists who they learn have met with Israeli peace activists or in any way worked towards a 2 state solution. They use global aid donated to Gaza for themselves while letting their citizens suffer. Their most prominent leaders don't even live within Gaza, aren't even at severe risk. These are all things you can verify easily and readily just by doing some basic research anywhere that isn't Twitter, tumblr, or Al Jazerra.

So if you want to justify killing civilians? If you want to support a terrorist organization? If you are going to unilaterally condemn all Israelis for the crime of being citizens of a country whose government you disagree with? Please see yourself out. And when you do, please keep in mind that I am a nonzionist telling you to kindly consider availing yourself of the sea. I do not support Israel and I work with actual Palestinian liberation organizations when I can. I've been doing so for the better part of the past 5 years. I attend a synagogue that is actively involved in Palestinian liberation as well as the first nonzionist havurah in the US. I'm not exactly new to this.

But I am also a Jew. I do not support Israel, the government of the nation state, largely because I do not support the concept of nation states as a whole. I find the system inherently violent. But I *do* support, Israel, the people. I am a Jew by Choice. I have chosen to throw my lot in with Israel and her people. They are MY people. If you gleefully call for my people to be slaughtered, I want nothing to do with you.

[serpentface]

What’s the Janeys/Brakul death scenario?

So like upon review I mostly just was going to kill them off for Couya + Faiza + Hibrides’ character development (#FEMINIST WIN!!!!!!!).

The background situation of their death scenario is something that will happen either way:

Throughout the story, the pilgrimage requests tribute from the towns it passes through (mainly food and other supplies). This is a common practice for pilgrimages and the travels of royalty, and Imperial Wardi civilians are used to the concept (just not so much during a famine). Some people give fully willingly (a lot of people believe in the pilgrimage's goals/and or the necessity to keep its high status participants fed), most are at least partly coerced (usually not via direct threats, but the pilgrimage contains a couple hundred soldiers, the Usoma, and Odonii leadership. The threat is implied), some are Fully coerced via threats.

In the latter third of the story things are not going well. There’s been a lot of internal struggles among the soldiers and dissatisfaction with pilgrimage leadership (mostly Stavis), men are starting to defect and a large body are getting outright mutinous. The group has also lost much of their food supplies and things are getting desperate (they've been starting to eat their own pack khait and oxen)

With this going on, the pilgrimage sends three soldiers to exact tribute from a farming village in the province Lobera. They meet a group of men acting as representatives for the village, who flat out refuse to give tribute. Things escalate into an outright fight, the soldiers are better armed but few in number and are killed.

One of the village elders finds out that this happens and panics, knowing that the men who killed three of the Usoma’s soldiers (one of which is her son) have signed their own death sentences, and possibly that of others. She attempts to persuade the families to preemptively flee, and then takes the village's one remaining skinny old plow ox to carry the bodies of the dead soldiers back to where the pilgrimage is camped. She supplicates herself before Stavis Amanti and begs for mercy, saying they don't even have enough food stored to feed themselves, much less to give, and that the men thus considered the killings righteous self defense. She shows that she’s returned the bodies for rites as an act of goodwill, and offers the ox in tribute, the most valuable thing she can provide. She begs that the Usoma accepts this as tribute and spares the men's lives, and that the pilgrimage moves on without taking anything else.

Stavis bids her safe passage away from the camp (without confirming or denying that he's accepted her plea), and the heads of pilgrimage confer on what to do. The killing of the soldiers is a violation punishable by death, but this would be like, a notably bad PR move. Meanwhile a contingent of soldiers (including some major side characters I haven’t introduced) break off and lead a raid on the village to avenge their fallen brothers and loot supplies. Others get drawn into the fighting, and it devolves into a full on massacre.

A couple families had fled at the elder’s suggestion, but most refused to leave their homes. Some of the villagers believed they would be left unharmed if the killers were given up, others had been preparing for a reprisal and armed themselves with everything available. But they have few actual weapons and none are trained combatants. All of the remaining men and adolescent boys get killed, one woman manages to take out a soldier using a shovel but is killed, most of the other women and girls are spared murder but several are assaulted. The village is looted for supplies and kindling for funeral pyres.

Stavis Amanti has no fucking idea what to do. The soldiers defied orders and killed Imperial Wardi civilians, but the current climate amid the pilgrimage would make it EXTREMELY Bad for him if he demanded their punishment (but also potentially very bad if he didn't- not all the soldiers participated in the massacre and many were horrified). Faiza encourages him to exert authority in a measured response by having the ringleader of the mutineers killed but sparing the rest, and offers to publicly back him in hopes of avoiding full on mutiny.

The raid reveals that the villagers had been hiding more grain than they claimed they had (as in like, enough to feed their people on starvation level rations for a few weeks). Stavis takes this as an opportunity to justify not punishing the mutineers (as the villagers DID technically have something to give, and execution IS technically the punishment for refusing the order of tribute (though not execution of the entire community)), but insists that their Galenii bless the village dead and their men build pyres for the civilians as is honorable conduct. (This attempt to make amends is not particularly appreciated by the survivors.)

The pilgrimage holds a funeral for their own dead soldiers. The village ox that was given in tribute is killed and butchered for the funerary feast.

----

In the Bury Your Gays route, Brakul is one of the three that gets killed during the tribute extraction. Janeys loses his fucking mind when his body is brought back, and tries to slit his own throat on the spot. Couya stops him by wrestling him to the ground while Janeys screams threats at her and the old woman in a very pathetic public spectacle. He is deprived of all sharp objects.

While the pilgrimage leaders are conferring, he hovers miserably around Hibrides (who is also not feeling so great about all this). He's suddenly very interested in her pregnancy for the first time ever, asks to feel the baby (which has been just starting to kick). She's like "fuck off", but he strongly implies he's planning to commit suicide asap and she concedes and then is like Okay I Let You Feel The Goddamn Baby Now Leave Me Alone Holy FUCK.

Janeys turns his attention to fucking murdering anyone tangentially involved in this happening. He’s among the initial raid party, plays a major hand in it turning from its ostensible 'find and execute the ones responsible, subdue the rest, steal their food' directive to a full massacre by directing his men to immediately attack the first man he sees. He and his group capture three young men as prisoners and demand that they be slain at the soldier's funerals as is wartime custom (this isn't wartime). Janeys additionally demands that he should get to do it, as the only kin of any of the dead men. Once that's done he immediately cuts his own throat and bleeds out. They wind up getting cremated at the same time so things work out how Janeys wanted it.

At one point I realized that this is kind of just The Iliad?

----

So like obviously whether they die here or not has little impact on THESE events, but a lot of the endgame revolves around Couya Faiza and Hibrides and these deaths would be very significant to THEM in varying capacities. It affects the trajectory of the final stretch of their arcs and adds a lot of layers to the ultimate Couya/Faiza conflict. I also liked their deaths being kind of random and shitty and meaningless because that in of itself is kinda ~thematically resonant~ with the story. (A lot of tension between the lack of intrinsic meaning to events and the profound levels of meaning ascribed to them).

I'm almost definitely not going with this version of events though. Janeys and Brakul don't have much active involvement in the endgame and don't Really need to be alive for it as it stands, but I think the version where every main character (except Faiza she's doomed) survives to see What Has Been Wrought and living to experience the fallout ultimately works better.

[poisonouspastels]

@beegswaz genuinely i think my favorite tags on any of my work ever. i fucking love when people talk abt my characters like this

[workersolidarity]

[ 📹 Dead and wounded arrive at a hospital in Gaza after the Israeli occupation forces bombed a residential building in the Al-Maghazi Camp, in the central Gaza Strip on Monday. 📈 The current death toll in the Israeli genocide now exceeds 38'664 Palestinians killed, while another 89'097 others have been wounded since Oct. 7th. ]

🇮🇱⚔️🇵🇸 🚀🏘️💥🚑 🚨

283 DAYS OF GENOCIDE IN THE GAZA STRIP: GAZANS IN ISRAELI DETENTION FACE TORTURE, RAPE AND DEATH, SMOTRICH REJECTS THE POSSIBLE RELEASE OF PALESTINIAN PRISONERS IN EXCHANGE DEAL, 15 YEARS NEEDED TO REMOVE THE RUBBLE OF GAZA, ISRAELI MASSACRES CONTINUE AS GENOCIDE ENTERS ITS 40TH WEEK

On 283rd day of the Israeli occupation's ongoing special genocide operation in the Gaza Strip, the Israeli occupation forces (IOF) committed a total of 3 new massacres of Palestinian families, resulting in the deaths of no less than 80 Palestinian civilians, mostly women and children, while another 216 others were wounded over the previous 24-hours.

It should be noted that as a result of the constant Israeli bombardment of Gaza's healthcare system, infrastructure, residential and commercial buildings, local paramedic and civil defense crews are unable to recover countless hundreds, even thousands of victims who remain trapped under the rubble, or whose bodies remain strewn across the streets of Gaza.

This leaves the official death toll vastly undercounted as Gaza's healthcare officials are unable to accurately tally those killed and maimed in this genocide, which must be kept in mind when considering the scale of the mass murder.

Details have emerged about the severe abuse of Palestinian detainees while being held in Israeli prisons. This comes after journalist Mohammad Arab met with his lawyer who visited the Ofer Prison near Ramallah in the occupied West Bank on Sunday.

According to Khaled Mahajna, a lawyer with the Commission of Detainees' Affairs, who spoke at a press conference after he visited two clients from the Ofer Prison, detailed his clients' experiences under interrogation at the Sde Teiman Camp, a prison in the Negev desert of southern occupied Palestine.

Speaking of his visit to Ofer Prison, Mahajna says his client was questioned about a prior visit from his lawyer and threatened with punishment for disclosing his experiences.

Mahajna said Arab described witnessing the rape of Gazan detainees, telling his lawyer one was stripped naked during an assault, while another detainee was also stripped naked and electricuted, before being sexually assaulted.

Mahajna told reporters that Palestinian detainees were forced to lie on the ground with their hands bound behind their heads before police dogs were released, attacking the bound men.

Mahajna went on to add that more than 100 detainees were blindfolded before being transferred from the Sde Teiman Camp to the Ofer Prison, leading the prisoners to believe they were being taken to a camp near Gaza.

According to the Israeli Prison Services, more than 9'000 Palestinian detainees are currently being held in Israeli prisons.

In other news, Israeli Finance Minister Bezalel Smotrich said on Monday, July 15th, that he opposes the release of Palestinian prisoners as part of a hostage exchange and ceasefire agreement with the Palestinian resistance factions.

Smotrich described the release of Palestinian prisoners as a "terrible and horrific event," going on to say that "I will not agree to it; a red line must be drawn."

“We saw what happened in the deal for Gilad Shalit (former Israeli soldier who was released by the Resistance in a 2011 hostage deal). We released Yahya Sinwar, and we see what we got in return,” Smotrich said, before asking “With what logic will we release the next Yahya Sinwar and endanger thousands more Israelis?”

In the 2011 hostage exchange, the Hamas Palestinian resistance movement released the soldier Shalit in exchange for the release of some 1'027 Palestinian prisoners, including the current Al-Qassam military leader, Yahya Sinwar, who remains at large and hunted by occupation forces.

Smotrich concluded his statement by saying that “I will oppose this, even if it ends my political career.”

“If there are no red lines, you have no right to practice politics,” he said.

In more news on Monday, the United Nations has estimated that it would take a fleet of 100 trucks more than 15 years to remove the mountain of rubble burying the Gaza Strip, while the removal is estimated to cost approximately US$600 million.

The UN also estimates that 137'297 buildings have been damaged or destroyed since the start of the Israeli occupation's genocidal war, equivalent to more than half of the enclave's buildings.

The UN says that, of the targeted buildings, around a quarter are completely destroyed, while a tenth are severely damaged.

In total, the UN stated that rubble covers as much as five square kilometers of Gaza, with the UN proposing that most of the rubble is not recoverable or recyclable, and will have to be disposed of.

Previously, the United Nations estimated that rebuilding the Gaza Strip, with all its destroyed homes and facilities, wouldn't be completed until at least 2040, and is expected to cost in excess of US$40 Billion, which the UN described as an "optimistic estimate".

The UN also pointed to the destruction of Gaza's schools, sewage and water lines, medical and other vital infrastructure, stating that the quality of healthcare, education and social services in Gaza has returned to levels unseen since 1980.

According to the United Nations, more than 44 years of development in Gaza has been completely erased.

“The damage to infrastructure is unbelievable, there is not a single building in Khan Younis that has not been damaged,” a UN official told the media

“The terrain has changed, new hills have appeared. The bombs dropped have changed the landscape."

It was also noted that piles of rubble across the Gaza Strip are filled with unexploded bombs and other explosive materials, which will make the reconstruction of the Gaza Strip an even more difficult task, the UN official concluded.

Meanwhile, the Israeli occupation's genocidal war goes on, with occupation bombing and shelling continuing to target civilian homes, infrastructure and other facilities.

On Sunday, occupation warplanes bombed the UNRWA-run Abu Oreiban School, which housed displaced Palestinian families in the Nuseirat Camp, in the central Gaza Strip, resulting in the deaths of 15 Palestinian civilians, mostly women and children, and wounding another 70 others.

The Zionist entity's atrocities continued when an Israeli drone targeted citizens in the Bir Abu Salah area in the town of Al-Zawaida, in the central Gaza Strip, resulting in the death of one Palestinian and injuring several others.

In another attack, the Israeli occupation forces bombed the Al-Mashrou area, east of the city of Rafah, in the southern Gaza Strip, killing a Palestinian and wounding others, while at the same time, occupation fighter jets bombed civilian homes north of the New Camp area of the Nuseirat Camp, killing and wounding several citizens.

Zionist warplanes went on to bomb a residential home in Bani Suhaila, east of Khan Yunis, in the south of Gaza, and also targeting a civilian residence northeast of the Nuseirat Camp, while an occupation drone fired live bullets towards residents of the Al-Zaytoun neighborhood, southeast of Gaza City.

By dawn on Monday morning, the Israeli occupation army had fired several artillery shells towards the neighborhoods of Tal al-Hawa, Sheikh Ajlin, and al-Sabra in Gaza City, while Zionist helicopters fired rockets and bullets at civilians in the Tal al-Hawa neighborhood, southwest of the city.

Similarly, occupation artillery detatchments shelled in the vicinity of Street 8 in the Al-Zaytoun neighborhood, southeast of Gaza City.

The occupation's bombing also targeted a residential home belonging to the Al-Manaama family in the Al-Maghazi Camp, in the central Gaza Strip, after which, civil defense and rescue crews managed to recover the bodies of 5 martyrs, including 3 children.

Occupation artillery shelling and aircraft bombing also targeted the Al-Mughraqa area, along with the northern outskirts of the Nuseirat Camp, both in central Gaza, as well as in the Bureij Camp, while occupation forces also opened fire from helicopters northwest of Al-Zahra'a.

An occupation warplane also fired a missile into a residential apartment near the Al-Awda School in the town of Abasan Al-Kabira, east of Khan Yunis, with no injuries reported in the strike.

Israeli artillery shelling went on to target the western neighborhoods of Rafah City, south of Gaza, coinciding with gunfire from Zionist helicopters in the same area.

In another bombing, occupation fighter jets bombed a gathering of civilians on Al-Mansoura Street in the Al-Shujaiya neighborhood, east of Gaza City, killing 3 civilians and wounding several others.

Israeli war crimes continued into Monday evening, when occupation warplanes bombed a house in the Nuseirat Camp, resulting in the martyredom of 6 Palestinians and wounding a number of others.

As a result of the Israeli occupation's ongoing war of extermination in the Gaza Strip, the endlessly rising death toll now exceeds 38'664 Palestinians killed, including at least 10'000 women and well over 15'000 children, while another 89'097 others have been wounded since the start of the current round of Zionist aggression, beginning with the events of October 7th, 2023.

This brings the total number of casualties in the genocide to 127'761 or 5.55% of the 2.3 million Palestinian residents of the Gaza Strip.

July 15th, 2024.

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@WorkerSolidarityNews

[reidmarieprentiss]

Turning Tables

Summary: The team finds you and Spencer, you come back to work after recovering, things are tense. Spencer realizes he messed up, but you're not so quick to forgive.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: angst, hurt/comfort

Warnings/Includes: suggestive content (16+), mentions of hookup culture, talks of cases, reader is heavily assaulted by unsub, broken bones, dumb man Spencer, missed signals, bad communication

Word count: 6.9k

a/n: hiii there will be a part three!!

main masterlist part one part three

The team finally found the two of you in the abandoned warehouse, but the sight they came upon was brutal. Spencer had a black eye and a split lip from being hit, his face bruised and bloodied, but you— you had taken the worst of it. The unsub had unleashed relentless violence on you. You’d been slapped, punched, kicked, spit on, cut, and thrown around like a ragdoll. The unsub’s twisted plan was clear: break Spencer by hurting you, the "weaker" hostage, using your suffering to force him into talking. But you both knew that wasn’t an option. Spencer couldn’t give the unsub what he wanted, no matter how much it tore him apart to watch you take those blows.

Every hit that landed on you felt like it was striking Spencer himself. He watched, helpless, feeling the pain of every blow as though it was his own flesh being torn and bruised. Yet he remained silent, knowing that any begging or pleading from him would only make the unsub escalate. He couldn’t give them that. He couldn’t put you through more than what you were already enduring, though it felt like it was killing him inside to watch.

When the team finally stormed in, you were unconscious, your body battered and limp as they carted you away on a stretcher to the waiting ambulance. Hotch approached Spencer, his voice calm but filled with concern as he asked, "What happened to Y/N?"

Spencer, sitting in the back of another ambulance, stared blankly ahead. His shoulders were slumped, weighed down by the guilt and horror of what had transpired. His voice was quiet, flat. “She was the target.”

Hotch took in Spencer's empty gaze, the exhaustion and anguish etched into every line of his face, and knew better than to press for more. They’d have to wait until you woke up to understand the full scope of what happened in that warehouse. But even then, Hotch feared that some wounds might never truly heal.

—

You eventually did wake up, groggy but relieved to find that, despite the brutality you endured, you had very little internal damage. The doctors assured you that your body just needed time to heal. Two weeks of paid leave were granted as you recovered, a rare gesture of empathy from Chief Strauss, who seemed to have a soft spot for you.

As the painkillers faded and your mind cleared, the questions from your team began. You sat with them, still feeling tender but able to think straight, recounting everything you remembered from that night. You and Spencer had been investigating a house, following up on an anonymous tip. It seemed routine until the moment you two split up to check different rooms. That’s when it happened—ambushed from behind, a cloth drenched in chloroform shoved over your mouth. After that, everything went black.

"I only remember waking up inside the warehouse with Spencer," you explained, your voice steady but laced with tension. The memories still fresh, the pain still vivid. "The unsub wanted me. I was the real target. They said I was more of a challenge than any of their other victims."

JJ, sitting beside you, asked softly, her voice gentle and careful. “Why did they take Spencer?”

You heaved a breath, feeling the weight of the answer on your chest. “They thought if they took him too, they could find out where the rest of the team was. They wanted Spencer to tell you all it was a dead end, to send you off on a different trail.” You paused, your breath shaking as you continued. “They said if Spencer did that, they’d release him. But they made it clear… they just wanted me.”

The room was silent for a moment, the gravity of your words hanging in the air. Your team exchanged glances, but no one said anything. They didn’t need to. You all understood what it meant—that the unsub was willing to let Spencer go, but you were never supposed to walk out of that warehouse alive.

—

When you returned to work after your leave, the atmosphere shifted. The entire team was happy to have you back, and there were warm smiles all around. Spencer, however, seemed unsure how to approach you now. Still, he smiled as you passed by, his voice tentative yet sincere as he said, “I’m really glad you’re back and feeling better.”

You returned the smile, a brief and polite response escaping your lips. “Thanks, Spencer. I appreciate it.” The exchange was short, almost too brief, and you both seemed to sense the unspoken tension lingering between you. It didn’t go unnoticed, especially not by JJ, who had grown close to you since the incident. She had been your rock, someone you confided in more and more. 

When she found a quiet moment alone with you, JJ slipped into the conversation with ease. “Hey, how’s your first day back?” she asked with her trademark smile, though there was a hint of something deeper in her tone.

You shrugged lightly, trying to mask any unease. “Same as usual, I guess. It feels good to be working again, though. I was getting restless at home.”

JJ laughed knowingly, nodding. “I know exactly what you mean.” Then, her voice dropped, softer now, as she leaned in slightly. “Did something happen between you and Spence?”

The question caught you off guard, your brows knitting in surprise. Did Spencer say something to her? You quickly tried to brush it off with a joke. “Other than, you know, getting kidnapped together? Not that I know of.”

But JJ wasn’t convinced. She made a face like she wasn’t buying your casual response. “Are you sure? You two haven’t really been talking much. I guess I just assumed something like that would have brought you closer… in a weird, awful sort of way.”

You let out a short laugh, trying to deflect again. “Yeah… we didn’t get the trauma bonding memo, I guess.”

JJ still looked skeptical, her eyes scanning your face for cracks in your armor. “Okay, well… just, if you need to talk, I’m here. You don’t have to go through anything alone.”

Her offer was genuine, and the sincerity in her voice made you pause. You smiled back at her, feeling a small but comforting warmth settle in. “Thanks, JJ. I really appreciate that.”

Across the bullpen, Spencer had been listening to the conversation from his desk, his heart aching at what JJ was implying. He’d been mulling over the same thought—that the trauma you both went through should have drawn you closer. Shared experiences like that often created a bond, an unspoken connection forged in survival. But instead, he could feel the distance between you growing wider, and it tore him up inside.

He couldn’t stop thinking about how hard this must be for you, how you were facing it all alone. You were still relatively new to the team, and as far as Spencer knew, this was your first time being kidnapped. After his first time, he had shut everyone out. Granted, he’d been addicted to drugs back then, but that isolation still hadn’t been the right path. It had only deepened the pain, and he feared you might be doing the same thing.

He could only hope you were receiving the support you needed—support he wasn’t sure he could give you anymore.

—

Later that week, you found yourself in the kitchen, trying to ignore the sharp ache in your side as you reached for a mug to make tea. The pain in your ribs flared up with every stretch, the broken bones protesting loudly. As your arm extended toward the cupboard, the burning sensation became unbearable, and you yelped, clutching your side in an attempt to steady yourself.

“Y/N?” Spencer’s voice was filled with concern as he walked into the room just in time to see you wince in pain. He was by your side in an instant, his hands hovering uncertainly, as if he wanted to help but wasn’t sure how far he could go. “Are you okay?”

You grunted, trying to downplay the pain. “I’m fine, just... need a mug.”

Spencer gave a small, understanding nod before stepping in to help. He reached up with ease, grabbing the mug he knew was your favorite—the one you always used for your tea. “Here,” he said softly, placing it on the counter in front of you. “Making tea?”

A small flutter stirred in your chest at the realization that he remembered both your favorite mug and your preference for tea. It was such a small detail, but it felt significant in that moment, a quiet acknowledgment of the bond that still lingered between you despite everything.

—

You laughed as you watched Spencer pour himself yet another cup of coffee. “It’s three in the afternoon, Spencer! Who drinks coffee this late?”

Spencer chuckled along with you, lifting his cup with a playful grin. “Me! Obviously!” he said, gesturing toward the steaming mug with a mock sense of pride.

You bumped his hip with yours, gently nudging him out of the way as you reached for the kettle. “Well, some of us actually like to sleep,” you teased, your tone light and playful.

What you didn’t notice was the way Spencer had stared at you after that, a soft, affectionate gaze lingering on your face, the kind of look that held more meaning than words could express.

—

“Yeah, thanks,” you sighed, knowing you needed the help but still feeling a little self-conscious about it.

Without missing a beat, Spencer grabbed your favorite tea from the cupboard and began steeping it for you, his movements calm and precise. He didn’t ask if you needed more assistance—he just did it, like he knew exactly what you needed in that moment. It was a silent kindness, one that reminded you of the Spencer you knew before everything had gotten so complicated.

As the tea steeped, you leaned back slightly, watching him with gratitude and lingering uncertainty. The simplicity of the moment, of him helping you with something as mundane as making tea, felt like a brief return to the way things used to be between you.

“Do you need help with anything else?” Spencer asked, his gaze fixed on the steaming mug in front of him rather than meeting your eyes. His tone was casual, but there was something tense beneath it, something unspoken that lingered between the two of you.

You frowned, feeling a bit of confusion and then a flicker of annoyance rising up. Was he only doing this out of guilt? You straightened up slightly, crossing your arms over your chest despite the ache in your ribs.

“Look, I appreciate your help, but you don’t have to suck up to me because of what happened,” you said, your words sharper than you intended. You regretted it immediately, but the frustration had been bubbling beneath the surface for a while now—how careful everyone was being around you, how things with Spencer had grown so strange and distant since the kidnapping.

Spencer froze for a moment, his hand still resting on the counter as he absorbed your words. His jaw tightened, and for a second, he didn’t move or say anything. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet but steady. “I’m not… sucking up to you.”

You huffed, unsure where this conversation was heading but feeling the tension building between you. “Then what is this? You’ve barely said two words to me since I came back, and now suddenly you’re… what? Trying to make up for it by being overly nice?”

Spencer’s shoulders stiffened, and he finally turned to face you, his expression guarded. “I’m just trying to help,” he said, his voice measured, like he was trying not to let his own emotions show. “I know things are… different now. But I didn’t want to push you into talking or pretending everything’s okay if it’s not. That’s all.”

The frustration in you wavered, your annoyance softening as you realized he wasn’t trying to guilt-trip or coddle you. He was as lost in this new dynamic as you were, both of you navigating the aftermath of something you hadn’t fully processed. His hesitation wasn’t about sucking up—it was about not knowing how to be around you anymore.

“I don’t want you to feel like you owe me anything,” you said, your voice quieter now. “You don’t have to fix this, or me.”

Spencer's eyes softened slightly as he watched you, his own uncertainty flickering across his face. “I’m not trying to fix anything,” he said, almost a whisper now. “I just… don’t want to make things worse.”

The weight of his words settled between you, and suddenly the air felt heavy, filled with everything you both hadn’t said since the warehouse.

“Worse, right,” you scoffed, the bitterness lacing your voice before you could stop it. “Sorry I started an awful chain of events.” You could feel the hurt bubbling up again, the weight of rejection you’d been carrying ever since that day in the warehouse. It wasn’t just the physical pain—it was the emotional bruise left behind, the wound that hadn’t healed.

Spencer looked at you, his expression faltering. He opened his mouth as if to respond but then hesitated, unsure of how to mend what had already spiraled so far out of control. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he said softly, his words stumbling out in a rush. “We were under a lot of stress… sometimes people say things they don’t mean, searching for comfort.”

You felt your heart drop at his words. He thought it was just a fleeting moment, something you’d said out of desperation. That stung worse than anything. You blinked back the frustration and the tears that were threatening to spill over, the pain in your side flaring as you tried to catch your breath.

Without another word, you turned on your heel and stormed out, the door to the break room slamming behind you with a sharp, echoing crack.

Spencer stood there, stunned, the sound of the door slamming reverberating in the silence. He hadn’t meant to make things worse. He didn’t realize until it was too late that you hadn’t just left the conversation—you had left the room entirely, and maybe… left something between you both behind.

He clenched his hands into fists, a knot tightening in his stomach. He didn’t know how to make this right, how to undo the damage that had already been done. All he knew was that you had walked away and it felt as if he was losing you for good.

—

Things on the team settled into a new rhythm, even if it wasn’t quite the same. Everyone seemed to accept that you and Spencer were no longer as close as you had once been, though there was an undercurrent of tension. The two of you weren’t assigned together anymore, and that seemed to smooth things out for the most part. But it didn’t go unnoticed that Spencer kept a quiet distance, while you partnered up with Derek in the field.

Spencer couldn’t shake the bitterness that crept in when he saw you with Derek. He couldn’t help but wonder if Hotch had reassigned you because he thought Spencer couldn’t protect you, that you needed someone strong like Derek to keep you safe. The thought left him feeling sour, inadequate, like he’d somehow failed. But then, just as quickly, he’d get mad at himself for even thinking that way. You didn’t need protecting. You were more than capable of handling yourself in the field. You had survived worse than most, even if he couldn’t bear to watch it happen.

What gnawed at him most, though, was how happy you seemed with Derek. The way you laughed and joked with him, talking easily like you once did with Spencer. It stirred something ugly inside him, something he didn’t want to admit. He couldn’t deny that Derek was the kind of man who seemed perfect—strong, confident, and charming. A man who could sweep anyone off their feet. He hated that it bothered him, but he’d never allow himself to admit that he was afraid you’d fall for Derek. That kind of jealousy was too much to confront.

You, on the other hand, were content with your new partnership. Derek was easygoing and didn’t pry into your personal life. He let you manage things on your own terms, only asking questions when you willingly brought something up. It was a refreshing change, especially after everything that had happened with Spencer. You didn’t want to talk about what had gone wrong. You were too embarrassed, too ashamed of how vulnerable you had felt. It was easier to leave it behind, buried where no one could see the cracks.

But despite the professional ease, there was still a part of you that missed what you and Spencer once had, even if you’d never admit that either.

—

On one particular case, you and Derek celebrated the capture of an unsub with a big, triumphant hug. In the heat of the moment, you jumped into his arms, and he caught you effortlessly, spinning you around as the rest of the team cheered. It had been the two of you who made the breakthrough that led to the unsub’s hideout, and everyone was thrilled. You were beaming, caught up in the excitement of the team.

But Spencer, standing on the sidelines, was stewing. His mind kept replaying the mistake he had made, the detail he had missed that Derek had caught. And now, it was Derek who had caught you, too. Watching the two of you laughing, hugging, and celebrating felt like a punch to his gut. His insecurities gnawed at him, building into a quiet anger that simmered beneath the surface.

The rest of the team, however, smiled at the sight of you, happy to see you so joyful and healed enough to engage in lighthearted horseplay with Derek. The dark cloud that had followed you since the kidnapping seemed to have lifted, and it was a relief to everyone.

When the team returned to Quantico, Penelope was quick to corral everyone for celebratory drinks at the local bar. You stuck close to JJ and Penelope, grateful for their company as the night went on. After a few drinks, they pulled you out onto the dance floor, laughter bubbling up between the three of you as the music played. You let yourself go, dancing with JJ and Penelope, the worries of the past few months fading in the glow of the evening.

But it wasn’t until Derek joined you girls on the dance floor that something shifted. Spencer, sitting at the bar, felt a surge of jealousy flood through him. Derek was there again, touching your arm, laughing with you, spinning you around as the girls cheered. Spencer’s vision blurred with red-hot anger, the insecurities and feelings he had been burying for weeks now boiling over.

Before he could think twice, Spencer stormed over, grabbing Derek by the arm and pulling him outside the bar. The sudden outburst left Derek confused, glancing at Spencer with genuine concern. “What the hell, Reid?” Derek asked, his voice sharp with confusion but tinged with worry. “Are you okay?”

Spencer was breathing heavily, steam practically pouring out of his ears as he glared at Derek. “Do you like her?” he snapped, his voice cracking with frustration.

Derek blinked, taken aback. “Who? Like who, Reid?”

“Y/N!” Spencer shouted, his voice louder than he intended. “You keep touching her, and dancing with her, and laughing like—like you’re trying to be with her!”

Derek’s face softened in realization, and he held up his hands defensively, trying to calm Spencer down. “Whoa, whoa, kid,” Derek said slowly, his tone measured. “You think something’s going on with me and Y/N?”

Spencer’s chest heaved as he struggled to control the emotions that had been brewing for so long. “I… I don’t know. I just—every time I see you with her, I can’t help but think you’re—”

Derek cut him off gently, shaking his head. “Spencer, man, it’s not like that. We’re friends. That’s it.”

But Spencer wasn’t ready to accept it. “Then why do you keep acting like that with her? I see it, Derek! You’re always laughing with her, touching her, like you’re… like you’re taking my place.”

Derek sighed, finally starting to understand what was bubbling beneath the surface. “Alright, Reid. What’s going on? ‘Taking your place’? You know Hotch was the one who reassigned us all. It’s just work, man.”

Spencer huffed in frustration, his foot kicking at the loose gravel beneath him. His mind raced, emotions swirling, but he couldn’t seem to piece together a coherent response. He felt like a rubber band stretched too far, about to snap, and it wasn’t just about work. He knew that much.

Derek watched him closely, reading the tension in Spencer’s body, the unease in his eyes. “That’s not what you meant, though, is it?” Derek questioned carefully, his tone soft but pressing for the truth.

Spencer’s shoulders tensed even further, his head dipping slightly as he tried to find the right words. “I… I don’t know,” he muttered, his voice shaky with frustration. He didn’t want to admit it, didn’t want to confront what was really bothering him. But he also couldn’t stand feeling like this—watching from the sidelines, seeing you with Derek, seeing you laugh and smile like he wasn’t even part of your life anymore.

Derek took a step closer, lowering his voice so only Spencer could hear. “There’s more, isn’t there?” he asked, but he wasn’t accusing. He was just trying to get Spencer to open up, to confront whatever it was that had him spiraling.

Spencer clenched his fists at his sides, staring at the ground as his heart pounded. “I… I didn’t mean for there to be,” he admitted quietly, his voice strained. “It’s just… I don’t know how to be around her anymore. Everything’s different, and I—I don’t know how to fix it.”

Derek nodded slowly, understanding dawning. “You care about her. More than you’re letting on.”

Spencer’s silence was answer enough. He cared about you deeply—more than he had ever allowed himself to admit, even to himself. And now, watching you get closer to Derek while he kept his distance, it felt like he was losing you, piece by piece.

“I don’t know what happened in that warehouse," Derek began, his voice steady and understanding. "I read the report, but I’m sure there were some forgotten details… stuff that can’t be put into words.” He paused for a moment, giving Spencer a chance to process what he was saying. “If there’s something you need to tell her, just do it, Reid. Y/N isn’t the type to laugh at you or shut you out.”

Spencer sniffled, the tears coming against his will, his emotions too raw to hold back any longer. “I... I know that,” he whispered, his voice cracking under the strain. He wiped at his eyes, feeling small and overwhelmed. “I just want to go back to how things were,” he complained softly, his words sounding almost petulant, like a child wanting to undo what couldn’t be undone.

Derek’s heart softened at Spencer’s admission. He had seen this kind of pain before, knew how trauma could twist things, how it could fracture even the strongest of bonds. “That’s not gonna happen, kid,” Derek said with sympathy, shaking his head gently. “What happened to the two of you… that changes people. It changes the way you see the world, and it changes how you see each other.”

Spencer swallowed hard, feeling the weight of those words sink in. He knew Derek was right. He knew things had changed, that he had changed, and so had you. But hearing it made the ache in his chest sharper, more real.

“But that doesn’t mean you can’t rebuild together,” Derek added, his voice hopeful. “It’s not about going back to how things were, Spencer. It’s about moving forward—together. You’ve both been through hell, but that doesn’t mean it’s over. You still have a chance.”

Spencer looked up at Derek, his eyes filled with uncertainty and vulnerability. “What if… what if it’s too late?”

Derek shook his head, giving Spencer’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “It’s only too late if you give up on her. Don’t wait until you lose her for good before you try to fix things. You care about her, Reid. She needs to hear that from you.”

Spencer took a deep breath, nodding slightly, though the fear still gnawed at him. He didn’t know if he was ready, but one thing was certain—he couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine when it wasn’t. He had to find the courage to face you, to face what had changed, and to see if there was still a chance to rebuild the connection he had feared was lost forever.

After their tense conversation outside the bar, Spencer headed home, deciding it was best not to linger. He didn’t want to ruin your night by bringing up anything uncomfortable, and the idea of watching you dance with Derek—or worse, with other men—was too much for him. The weight of jealousy and regret was already suffocating, and he needed space to figure out what he was really feeling.

It turned out to be a good thing he left when he did. After Spencer and Derek stepped outside, you were approached by a very handsome, very suave man. He had an easy charm about him, the kind that made conversation flow effortlessly. His flirtatious smile and smooth lines quickly caught your attention, and for the first time in a while, you felt yourself relax, enjoying the moment without overthinking it.

One drink turned into two, and before you knew it, the night had slipped away. The man offered to take you home, and in the haze of alcohol and the desire to forget the complicated feelings with Spencer, you agreed. You didn’t want to think about what had been left unsaid, about the tension between you and Spencer, or how much everything had changed.

That night, you went home with the charming stranger, eager to escape the weight of the unresolved emotions that had been building for weeks. But in the back of your mind, even as you tried to lose yourself in someone new, a small part of you couldn’t help but wonder if this was just another way of avoiding what you were really feeling.

—

That one night started a fire inside you, one that you hadn’t realized had been smoldering beneath the surface for so long. The realization that—even if it was just for a fleeting moment—you were wanted, desired, was intoxicating. After everything that had happened with Spencer, after feeling rejected and unsure of yourself, it was refreshing to be wanted without complications or emotional baggage.

The feeling of being desired, even if only for one night at a time, ignited something within you. It gave you a sense of control, of freedom, and it felt good—so good—to be seen as someone worth chasing. So you leaned into it. You found your place in the hookup culture, where the rules were simple and the emotional weight was nonexistent. One night, one person, no strings attached.

And it was fun. The thrill of meeting someone new, the brief connection that didn’t require anything more than mutual attraction, gave you a rush. Sure, the expense of condoms and the constant reminder to stay on top of frequent STD testing was a minor annoyance, but it was worth it for the feeling of power and liberation that came with it.

You felt like you were finally getting your fix, like the hole that had been left after your complicated feelings with Spencer was being filled—albeit temporarily. It wasn’t about love or deep connection anymore. It was about reclaiming something for yourself, something you hadn’t realized you were missing. You had found an escape, and for now, that was enough.

But then, one day, you made a mistake—a slip of the tongue in the office. You weren’t necessarily trying to keep your new lifestyle a secret, but you hadn’t planned on making it common knowledge either. Your friends and coworkers didn’t need to know every detail of how you were trying to get over Spencer, how you had buried your hurt in casual flings to escape the complicated feelings lingering from the rejection.

It happened when Penelope asked about your weekend plans in the bullpen. You casually mentioned that you were busy, but the response sparked curiosity.

"Busy? With what?" JJ asked, her eyes narrowing playfully. As your close friend, she felt like she would have known if you had something going on. She sensed something was off.

You laughed awkwardly, realizing you had stepped into dangerous territory. "Uh, just... seeing a man."

Penelope's face lit up with excitement. "You have a date?" she asked, her glee impossible to hide.

"Not exactly..." you trailed off, hoping the conversation would end there, but you should’ve known better.

Derek, never one to miss an opportunity to tease, raised an eyebrow with a sly grin. "Little miss thing, do you have a scheduled booty call?" he asked, his tone filled with mischief.

Your face flushed fiercely, the blush creeping up your neck. The small, involuntary smile on your lips gave you away instantly, and before you could protest, Penelope squealed with delight, while JJ chuckled in surprise.

"Oh my god!" Penelope exclaimed, eyes wide with excitement. "You minx! Why didn’t you tell us?"

You tried to play it cool, shrugging lightly. "I mean, it’s nothing serious. Just… you know… having some fun."

But what you didn’t notice was Spencer, who had overheard the entire conversation from across the bullpen. His face paled, and his heart sank as the reality of your words hit him like a freight train. You were seeing other people. You were sleeping with other men, and it was painfully clear—you were trying to get over him.

The girl he had always wanted—you—had wanted him back. That truth crashed into him with an intensity he wasn’t prepared for, and the weight of it left him standing frozen, unable to process how much he had lost. Spencer felt the deep ache of regret, gnawing at him with every word you spoke to your friends. You had moved on—or at least, you were trying to. And it was all because of him, because he had pushed you away when you had been vulnerable, honest, and open with him.

At that moment, Spencer couldn’t deny it any longer. He finally admitted it to himself—he wants you. He likes you. Maybe he even loves you. He always has. 

The realization of what he had been running from all this time hit him harder than any unsub ever could. He had been too scared to face it, too afraid of messing things up between you, too unsure of how to handle his own feelings. But now, watching you laugh awkwardly with your coworkers about casual hookups and hearing how you were slipping further and further away from him, it became painfully clear—he had already messed things up. 

Spencer clenched his fists at his sides, his mind racing with the weight of what he'd been denying for so long. He wanted to be the one you turned to, the one you laughed with, the one you came home to after a long day. He wanted to be more than your friend, more than someone you used to be close to. He wanted you in his life, in every possible way.

—

Spencer had always been on your speed dial—back when things were simpler, back when you called him almost every day, your friendship close and easy. So when his phone buzzed after 11 p.m. on a Saturday, his first instinct wasn’t concern. But after everything that had happened between the two of you lately, the timing made him uneasy. This wasn’t normal anymore. He hadn’t heard from you in weeks, not like this, and certainly not at this hour.

His heart pounded as he grappled for the phone, his mind racing. If you were calling him this late, something had to be wrong. He didn’t hesitate for a second, fumbling to answer as quickly as possible, already imagining the worst. “Y/N?” he called out into the phone, his voice tense with worry. “Y/N, are you okay?”

But instead of your voice answering, what he heard stopped him cold.

It was faint at first, a muffled noise, but as he strained to listen, the unmistakable sounds of… pain? groaning? It left him on edge, his panic rising. His mind raced, thinking the worst—had you been hurt? Were you in danger? He called your name again, louder, more frantic this time. “*Y/N!*”

But still, no response from you. Just the sounds, growing clearer, louder.

And then, it hit him like a punch to the gut. Through the haze of sounds on the other end, he heard a man’s voice, moaning your name.

Spencer’s breath caught in his throat as realization dawned painfully, his stomach twisting. You hadn’t called him on purpose. You had buttdialled him during a hookup. The groans, the noises that he had thought were of pain—they weren’t what he had feared. They were… something entirely different.

His hands shook as he stared at the phone, the pit in his stomach growing. He could hear everything, the intimacy, the passion—things that weren’t meant for him, things he should never have been privy to. The knowledge of what was happening, of who was with you right now, left him reeling.

He hung up, the phone slipping from his grasp onto the bed. Spencer sat there, stunned, trying to process what had just happened. It was the harshest reminder of what he had lost, of what he had pushed away. You were moving on. You were finding comfort in someone else. And here he was, on the other end of a phone call that was never meant to be made.

For the first time, Spencer felt the full weight of what he had done. He had pushed you away, too scared to face his own feelings, and now he was watching—no, hearing—you slip further away from him. The girl he had always wanted, the one who had wanted him, was now with someone else. And all he could do was sit there, helpless, with the sharp, bitter taste of regret heavy on his tongue.

—

You were blissfully unaware that you had called Spencer the night before. After a fun, carefree night with a man whose name you couldn’t even remember, you woke up feeling satisfied and content. It wasn’t until the next day, when you went to call Penelope, that your heart stopped. Staring at your call log, your eyes widened in horror as you saw the call to Spencer. A call that had lasted for several minutes. 

You quickly checked the time. It had definitely been when you and what’s his name were together. Oh god. A pit formed in your stomach as the realization hit you—did Spencer hear anything? Your mind raced, mortified by the idea. You hadn’t spoken to him much lately, and now, this? It was beyond awkward.

By Monday morning, you were terrified to face Spencer. The embarrassment gnawed at you, and the thought of seeing him after that accidental call made your stomach churn. When you arrived at the office, you tried to keep your head down, praying the situation would somehow blow over. But as soon as you made it to your desk, Spencer stormed over, his face set in a hard, unreadable expression.

“Y/N,” he said lowly, his voice tense, “a word.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach. You nodded silently, following Spencer into the hall, the weight of what you feared was coming making it hard to breathe.

Before he could speak, you blurted out, “Listen, Spencer, I’m sorry—” You didn’t even know how to finish the sentence, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. 

Spencer’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, he looked like he was grappling with something—whether to be angry, hurt, or simply frustrated. “You called me,” he said, his voice calm but tinged with something else you couldn’t quite place. “I heard... a lot.”

Your heart sank even further. He did hear. “Spencer, I didn’t mean for that to happen,” you said quickly, desperate to explain. “It was an accident. I wasn’t trying to—”

“Just…” Spencer interrupted, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked away, clearly uncomfortable. His voice was quieter now, but the tension between you was palpable. “Please don’t do that again. It was horribly uncomfortable.”

You winced, guilt washing over you. The last thing you had ever wanted was to make Spencer feel that way. “I’m really sorry, Spencer,” you said, softer this time. “I didn’t realize I had called you. If I had known...”

He nodded, still avoiding your gaze. “I know. It’s just… hearing that, knowing what was happening, it was…” He trailed off, the words hanging unfinished in the air.

"It was what?" you pressed, sensing that Spencer was leaving something unsaid, something important.

Spencer glanced away, his expression tense, and then, as if the weight of his feelings could no longer be held back, he blurted it out. "I was jealous, okay?"

You blinked in disbelief. “Jealous?” The word left your mouth before you could stop it, confusion swirling in your mind. How could he be jealous after everything that had happened between you two?

“Yeah, Y/N,” he sighed, finally meeting your eyes, the vulnerability in his gaze clear now. “I was jealous.”

You shook your head, still baffled by his confession. “Spencer, you rejected me,” you reminded him, your voice sharper than you intended. The hurt from that moment still stung, and hearing him say he was jealous felt like a twisted irony.

“I know,” he said quickly, guilt flashing in his eyes. “I know I did, and I’ve regretted it ever since. I was scared. I didn’t know how to handle what you said or what I was feeling, and I pushed you away. But hearing you with someone else, knowing you’ve moved on… it hit me harder than I expected.”

You stood there, staring at him, processing his words. Part of you wanted to lash out, to remind him of how much his rejection had hurt you. But another part of you, the part that had always cared for Spencer, softened at the sight of him so open, so raw with his emotions.

“Spencer…” you started, your voice gentler now, “you don’t get to be jealous. Not after everything. You made your choice.”

“I know,” he whispered, his eyes full of regret. “And it was the wrong choice. I didn’t realize how much I wanted you—until it was too late.”

There was a pause as his words hung in the air between you.

“Well, I’m sorry it took you so long to realize it,” you said, the hurt still lingering in your voice despite the calm exterior you tried to maintain.

Spencer nodded slowly, his expression full of regret. “Me too,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. He looked at you then, his eyes filled with all the things he hadn’t been able to say before, the weight of his hesitation clear now that the truth was out.

The silence between you stretched on for a moment, heavy with everything that had gone unsaid for so long. You could feel the weight of it pressing down on you, the hurt and confusion swirling around inside your chest. This was what you had wanted once—to hear Spencer admit that he had made a mistake. But now that it was happening, it didn’t feel as satisfying as you thought it would.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Spencer continued, his voice breaking slightly. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just… I didn’t know how to deal with my own feelings. And now I’m scared I’ve lost you for good.”

You stared at him, unsure of what to say. There was no quick fix for what had happened between you. His apology was genuine, but the damage had already been done.

“I don’t know what to say, Spencer,” you admitted. “I’m not going to pretend like this doesn’t hurt, or that everything can just go back to how it was.”

“I understand,” he said softly, looking down at the floor. “I don’t expect things to go back to the way they were. I just… I wanted you to know how I feel. And that I’m sorry.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath. “I appreciate that. But this doesn’t change everything.”

“I know,” he replied, his eyes meeting yours once more. “But maybe… maybe it’s not too late to figure it out. If you’re willing.”

You hesitated, the rawness of the conversation still fresh. You didn’t know if you could open that door again—not yet. But maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance to rebuild what had been broken.

“We’ll see, Spencer,” you said softly. “We’ll see.”

And with that, the conversation hung in the air, fragile and uncertain, but with the faintest glimmer of hope.

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

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[news4dzhozhar]

Yasmin Porat, a survivor of the bloodshed at Kibbutz Be’eri, near the boundary with Gaza, says many Israeli civilians were killed by Israeli forces.

An Israeli woman who survived the Hamas assault on settlements near the Gaza boundary on 7 October says Israeli civilians were “undoubtedly” killed by their own security forces.

It happened when Israeli forces engaged in fierce gun battles with Palestinian fighters in Kibbutz Be’eri and fired indiscriminately at both the fighters and their Israeli prisoners.

“They eliminated everyone, including the hostages,” she told Israeli radio. “There was very, very heavy crossfire” and even tank shelling.

The woman, 44-year-old mother of three Yasmin Porat, said that prior to that, she and other civilians had been held by the Palestinians for several hours and treated “humanely.” She had fled the nearby “Nova” rave.

A recording of her interview, from the radio program Haboker Hazeh (“This Morning”) hosted by Aryeh Golan on state broadcaster Kan, has been circulating on social media.

Notably, the interview is not included in the online version of Haboker Hazeh for 15 October, the episode in which it apparently aired.

It may well have been censored due to its explosive nature.

Porat, who is from Kabri, a settlement near the Lebanese border, undoubtedly experienced terrible things and saw many noncombatants killed. Her own partner, Tal Katz, is among the dead.

However, her account undermines Israel’s official story of deliberate, wanton murder by the Palestinian fighters.

Although it no longer appears on the Kan website, there can be little doubt about the recording’s authenticity.

At least one Hebrew-language account posted part of the interview on Twitter, now officially called X, and accused Kan of functioning as “media in the service of Hamas.”

Porat also gave her account to the Israeli newspaper Maariv.

However, the Maariv story, published on 9 October, makes no specific mention of civilians being killed by Israeli forces.

And in a half-hour interview with Israel’s Channel 12 on Thursday, Porat speaks of intense gunfire after Israeli forces arrived. Porat herself received a bullet in the thigh.

Not only does Porat tell Kan that Israelis were killed in the heavy counterattack by Israeli security forces, but she says she and other captive civilians were well treated by the Palestinian fighters.

Porat had been attending the “Nova” rave when the Hamas assault began with missiles and motorized paragliders. She and her partner Tal Katz escaped by car to nearby Kibbutz Be’eri where many of the events she describes in her media interviews took place.

According to Porat speaking to Maariv, she and Katz initially sought refuge in the house of a couple called Adi and Hadas Dagan. After the Palestinian fighters found them they were all taken to another house, where eight people were already being held captive and one person was dead.

Porat said that the wife of the dead man “told us that when they [the Hamas fighters] tried to enter, the guy tried to prevent them from entering and grabbed the door. They shot at the door and he was killed. They did not execute them.”

“They did not abuse us. They treated us very humanely,” Porat explained to a surprised Golan in the Kan radio interview.

“By that I mean they guard us,” she said. “They give us something to drink here and there. When they see we are nervous they calm us down. It was very frightening but no one treated us violently. Luckily nothing happened to me like what I heard in the media.”

“They were very humane towards us,” Porat said in her Channel 12 interview. She recalled that one Palestinian fighter who spoke Hebrew, “told me, ‘Look at me well, were not going to kill you. We want to take you to Gaza. We are not going to kill you. So be calm, you’re not going to die.’ Thats what he told me, in those words.”

“I was calm because I knew nothing would happen to me,” she added.

“They told us that we would not die, that they wanted to take us to Gaza and that the next day they would return us to the border,” Porat told Maariv.

In the Channel 12 interview, Porat elaborates that although the Palestinian fighters all had loaded weapons, she never saw them shoot captives or threaten them with their guns.

In addition to providing the captives with drinking water, she said the fighters let them go outside to the lawn because it was hot, especially as the electricity was cut.

[shotmrmiller]

tw: simon's mean and a sexist.

Simon who doesn't like you. He respects Laswell, who's intel is vital to their missions. Price as the leader of the Task Force. Gaz because he's proved his mettle time and time again, and Soap whose stubborn self has burrowed under Simon's thick, knotted flesh.

Not you, though.

You've yet to do anything substantial.

As a sniper, your job is to aim and kill; provide overwatch. Why Johnny insists on giving you praise for doing what is required of you is beyond him.

You aren't taken to below-zero temperatures as emotional support. Why you're taken at all is also another mystery.

Without your gun, you're utterly useless. And Simon proves it, time and time again during training spars at base.

He comes at you as if you're the enemy, with dangerous precision and quick movements. Simon gets enjoyment out of seeing your eyes widen when he moves, like an injured gazelle who's just spotted a ravenous lion.

His grip is bruising— the force that he slams you to the ground with devastating.

Simon can hear the air punched out of your lungs once your back hits the mat, and the time it takes for your vision to sharpen, he's already pinning you down viciously with a knee to the sternum.

Useless. Women don't belong in combat. He's seen that big brute from KorTac. He'd crush your pathetic little head under his palm, he'd kick your ribs hard enough to crack and the splintered ends pierce your lungs.

He'd kill you without a hint of effort.

And Simon intends to remind you that there is no place for weak, bitty things like you in the front lines. Unless you're to be used as a distraction by flashing your tits at the bad guys.

Out of place.

Every time you go up against him, he uses his size and strength against you, just like every other person will. He launches you across the floor with a single arm, only to watch you struggle to get up and continue this sham of a fight.

Confidence born of ignorance.

As if sheer will would ever beat physical prowess.

If your feet won't touch the ground, then the rest of your body will. Through spilled blood and bruised flesh, may you learn.

He whistles at Johnny, gesturing at him to take his place, only for the end result to be the same, albeit much more gently.

Simon watches you through half-lidded eyes as he leans up against the wall. You fight against inevitability.

Pathetic.

And then one day, you come at him with a snarl on your lips. Blunt teeth that have never had to sink into someone's neck and rip a throat out, out of utter desperation. An unblemished face that's never felt the sting of a sharp blade as it's sliced open contorted into 'rage.' Frothing at the mouth like a lap dog with rabies, barking out words that are as empty as your future.

A forceful wave of his hand abruptly halts you mid-sentence, causing you to involuntarily flinch in response. Good.

"If ya have a complaint, take it to Price. I am not obligated to humor your stupidity."

He spins on the balls of his feet, leaving you to sputter indignantly.

Then on a mission, you get shot. Simon grabs the handgun that's holstered on his chest, and places it in your bloodied hands. "Keep them off of us, or we're both dead!"

His fingers are curled around the thick strap of your tac vest as he drags you toward the LZ; his pace never faltering even while getting clipped by stray bullets. But you?

He'd think you got your legs cut off. Wailing like a cat in heat over a wound above your hip. A clean in and out, nothing vital hit.

Simon has seen Gaz fall out of a helicopter, dangle from a rope, and still use his gun. He's seen Johnny cross a town full of Graves' Shadows bleeding from his shoulder, armed with nothing but the makeshift weapons he crafted on the way to the church. Price inhaled toxic gas and made it out just fine. Even Laswell was taken hostage and didn't crack under the pressure, going as far as killing her captor with her bare hands.

And you're decomposing in front of his very eyes over a superficial wound.

Landing at base, he walks out without a glance back and heads straight for Price's office. He didn't join the 141 to babysit anyone, least of all someone who belongs in either intelligence or a kitchen.

[odinsblog]

Let us be very clear: Hamas breached international law on the 7th of October. Hamas targeted innocent civilians in the most callous and inhumane manner, and their actions have been rightly condemned by right thinking people across the world.

But we should also be very clear, Israel has breached international law, not just every day since October the 7th, but virtually every single day for decades.

Israel occupies Palestinian land, against international law.

Israel blockades Palestinian territory, against international law.

Israel builds and expands illegal settlements, against international law.

Israel enforces an apartheid system that restricts the movements of Palestinians and denies their fundamental rights, against international law.

And Israel regularly and systematically attacks and kills Palestinian civilians, against international law.

So the question that must be answered by all of us in political life is this: How does the world respond to flagrant abuses of international law when it comes to the horrendous war crimes of Hamas? The response was very clear and very consistent. World leaders queued up to say Israel has the right to defend itself. One after another repeated their words the great and the good, including our government.

“Israel has the right to defend itself.”

Repeated in statement after statement, tweet after tweet, despite the full knowledge that those words have become contaminated. The words, “Israel has the right to defend itself” means in practice that Israel takes that right as license to bombard civilians, to bomb schools, hospitals and other civilian infrastructure. And it has now been taken as license to enforce the displacement of 1 million people from one end of an open air prison to another. To deny food, energy, medical supplies to a besieged civilian population, to actually deny them water, to ensure that children, the sick, the disabled, the elderly will literally die of thirst.

“Israel has the right to defend itself” has now become cover for, “Israel has the right to commit genocide.”

Right in front of our eyes. How come we never hear the words, “Palestine has the right to defend itself”?

Not when a humanitarian flotilla bringing essential supplies to Gaza is met with a military assault and the murder by Israel of nine unarmed activists.

Not when Palestinians march in peaceful protests against illegal blockade and are met again with a military assault and the murder of 300 of them.

Not after the countless bombings of Gaza by Israeli forces.

Not even when Israel targeted and murdered four little Palestinian boys playing football on a beach.

And not when Palestinians were dragged from their homes and forced to watch as those homes were destroyed to allow for new illegal Israeli settlements on lands that are clearly defined in international law as part of Palestine.

And not after the countless offensive attacks by Israel against the people of Gaza or the West Bank, have we or any heard anybody in this house or any Western leader uttered the words, “Palestine has the right to defend itself.”

And why not?

And by the way, I'm not asking you to say those words. And in fact, it's just as well you don't. Because we all know that the people of Palestine can't defend themselves, not against one of the most powerful military forces in the world that is backed up by even more powerful military forces.

The truth is that the people of Palestine, just like the innocent people of Israel, don't need the international community to tell them that their leaders have the right to inflict more bombings, more pain, more suffering. They need the international community to say, “Stop.” To release the hostages, to say stop the bombings, the siege, the slaughter. They need the international community to tell Israel to stop the blockade, stop the apartheid, stop the annexations, to stop the genocide.

And they need countries Tánaiste to lead the way. And Ireland should be one of those countries that leads the way.

We know colonialism.

We know oppression.

We know conflict.

But we also know conflict resolution.

We know peace building.

We know nation building.

And because of what we know, what our history has taught us, our call tonight must be clear, immediate, full and unequivocal ceasefire fires and a decisive international intervention that leads to negotiations and to a lasting and just peace settlement and to, at long last, to a free, sovereign and independent Palestine.🇵🇸

[floatyflowers]

Dark! House Of The Dragon x Game of Thrones! Reader|Part 8

<<< Part 6

Gulit is eating you alive upon realizing that you might have been the cause for Rhaenys death, but that didn't explain why you made sure to check on Aegon daily.

You weren't supposed to feel pity and sympathy towards a man who stole your mother's birthright.

But he reminded you of your grandsire, Viserys.

He reminded you of when Robb was murdered.

You were right there beside him when he opened his eyes, staring at him with your soft eyes.

Of course, you called the maesters not giving yourself the chance to hear him call out your name in his broken voice, trying to reach his hand out.

Aemond was burning inside with jealousy, but decides not to kill his older brother espically when Aegon claims that he 'doesn't' remember anything.

On the other hand with the Blacks, Corlys makes the decision to continue supporting Rhaenyra, especially after finding out you were taken hostage.

Your mother becomes paranoid to the point where she wished to ride Syrax and burn down Kingslanding.

All Rhaenyra could think of, is having you back in her embrace like she did when you were a baby, but her advisors are standing in her path.

"My sweet little girl, she must be scared, my poor girl"

Jacaerys destroyed everything in his bed chambers, all he could think about is what his monster of a uncle would do to you in his absence.

Not knowing that Aemond did nothing but speak softly to you, and lay his head on your lap every night, while sharing his deepest thoughts and emotions.

There is one person who you wouldn't mind staring at for the rest of your life.

Ser Gwayne Hightower, he reminded you of your father, Jaime Lannister.

But Gwayne thought you found him handsome, so he flirted with you.

He truly thought he could charm you into marrying him or something.

Yet you only smiled, before handing him a letter to give to his youngest nephew.

"Tell Daeron that I don't wish to keep in contact with him anymore nor will I send him anymore letters, Ser Gwayne"

[yandere-sins]

You know how, irl, people get fascinated and turned on by the IDEA Of a yandere? And how a yandere, ofc, stalks and learns as much as they can about their darling? I just imagine the Yandere using that to their advantage and to their Darling's horror. "Oh, but you like this don't you? You've read so many smutty tumblr stories about being taken and taken and held hostage. You reblogged so many headcanons about a character killing your bully or that co-worker you hate. I know all your questionable porn tastes. I know all your deep, dark secrets. I know your violent vent posts that I got to enact for you, Darling! I've given you everything you've ever fantasized about, so of course you'll love me. <3" And of course, the yandere fails to realize that any of those behaviors or actions in real life is absolutely, gut-wrenchingly horrifying. But they think they're giving their darling everything they could ever want, and they'll continue to do so until they stop playing hard to get.

Ngl, probably one of my worst fears for the future, but thanks for requesting because it makes good yandere content :'D

I'm imagining a really smug yandere, you know? One that thinks they are doing you such a big favor and give you all their love by expressing it this way. But in reality, they don't even realize how messed up it is.

They were just breaking into your home after you went to bed to admire their darling from afar for a little bit. They are not daring to stir you from your sleep when they can stand beside you and watch. It is enough; they won't be greedy. But they couldn't have known they'd find the holy grail of smut and depravity on your bookshelf when they started browsing as their curiosity got the better of them. They are almost appalled by their darling, if not for the fact that when they browse through the pages of a random book, the words kidnapping, stalking, love, murder, and quite a few more seem like a temptation made for them especially.

So, you actually like that kind of stuff, huh?

Someone following you on a dark street, their steps noticeable but their face masked as they are always just five steps behind you. You run, they run. There's a red rose on your windowsill the next day. It scares you, but they know now that you are just pretending. That your heart is beating faster now, elated by the chase and the promise of love it brings. The fact that you have your own mad person excites you. The yan continues to borrow one book after the other, annotates them, and takes notes for themselves before putting them back onto your shelf for you to find one day, horrified to see lots of "I'd love to do this to you," "How about I kill the coworker you hate—would that make you love me?" and "Love this, love you, always you" in them.

They thought being a silent observer, loving you from afar, was the way to be with you. But they can't help but masturbate to the sex scenes, thinking about how they'd reenact them with you. Your books will be devastatingly ruined by stains and tears in the pages as they have either ripped out a scene to save for later or bit into the book as they've hit their orgasm. Your bookshelf was a collection of dark romance before, but now it is literally the remnant of a massacre of the once neat collection.

But of course, they won't stop there.

Everyone gets sick of reading books someday, even though it's been nice doing it sitting next to you—part of the yan hoping you might wake up and they get to act out some of the scenes you read about. However, there are more things to uncover and learn from. Your public social media they've stalked so far was nice and dandy, but the favorites and posts you hide on your private computer have so much potential to learn from.

The yan can learn about all these little desires of yours. The masks you like, how you want to be taken, cared for, and loved forever. You seem to believe in soulmates—crazy! They do, too! If the yan is delusional enough, it turns out that you two are so similar to each other—a perfect match. Even the kinks they didn't share with you before can be arranged with enough dedication to you. They'll make preparations so you'll be able to ease into these depraved things that you kept hidden from them. You might have been afraid to act on your desires, but the yan is ready to let you live them out to the fullest.

Never mind that you cry after being chased home, it's what you wanted, right? It doesn't matter how you actually feel when they harass and stalk you, leave you little notes and flowers everywhere, because they are just doing what your book-partners would do (it worked for them, after all). You wanted the yan to be possessive over you; why are you sad that no one wants to be your friend when the yan went to the trouble of making sure everyone would be too scared to approach you? And really, aren't you grateful for the yan taking care of your coworker problem? Was sending you their pinky not enough proof of their love?

How come you don't love them yet? When will you love them like the protagonists of your books?

Haven't they done enough? Are you seriously saying you don't like their gifts and dedication to you? Or perhaps you are just trying to play hard to get... of course! That must be it. You are so lovely; you must know that you deserve to be desired immensely. Only they can desire you as much as to go to such lengths, but perhaps it hasn't been enough yet. You deserve more. You are waiting for the yan to prove their undying, absolute love for you. It must be something big, something extraordinary. Something that will show you just how much they care about your interests and especially you.

They will take you and give you the life you want—you deserve.

Even if you hate them for it.

[ynscrazylife]

could i please request an aaron hotchner x bau wife reader. maybe they are on a case away in a different state and y/n volunteers to go pick up food for her and the team and she ends up seeing the unsub and follows him to the location, which happens to be an abandoned warehouse and she calls aaron when she gets there and he tells her to wait but she doesn’t and hangs up the phone and ends up getting stabbed in her abdomen since she doesn’t have her vest

lightly stabbed (aaron hotchner x wife!reader)

WARNING: Descriptions of violence.

You’re itching to get out of here.

The entire team is crammed into yours and Aaron’s hotel room to work on the case. It’s quite a small town and the nearest police precinct is barely big enough to fit all its officers inside, let alone accommodate what the BAU needs.

There are papers everywhere and Derek definitely has his boots digging into your bed and none of you are getting close to cracking the case. They’ve been able to determine what the guy looks like, but not his name. There’s no record of him anywhere. It’s starting to give you a damn headache.

“I’m hungry,” you announce, breaking through the silence and rocking back and forth impatiently. “Is anyone else hungry?”

“I could go for some food,” JJ says.

“Yes, please,” Derek adds.

“I’ll go pick up something!” You say, snatching your chance and bolting to grab your coat.

“Where?” Spencer asks skeptically.

“I’ll find a place. Could use a drive to clear my head anyway,” you say, putting your coat on and planting a kiss on Aaron’s forehead. You grab one of the room keys before slipping out the door.

You’re going to your car in the hotel’s garage when you spot a man who looks eerily similar to the descriptions of the unsub. You shake your head, trying not to read into it too much. There’s nothing that proves a definite connection. You get into your car and pull out into the road, but find that the guy’s car is going in a similar direction.

Unable to help yourself, you keep on tailing the guy and you call Penelope up to ask if she has any information on the unsub’s vehicle.

And what she gives you is the exact description of the car you’re following.

“Penelope,” you say, doing your best to keep your tone even and in control. “I’m pretty sure I’m following the unsub right now. I can’t risk losing our one lead, so I’m gonna keep on following him. I need you to call Aaron and let him know.”

Albeit nervous, she does as you ask. Minutes later, your phone rings with your husband on the other line.

“I’m being safe,” you say as soon as you answer.

“Do you have the license plate number?” Hotch asks.

“Yes.”

“Do you have reason to believe that he’s going to hurt anyone?”

“No.”

“You have to wait for the rest of us or at least one of the cops,” Hotch says—pleads.

You bite your lip, seeing the unsub slow down upon approaching what looks like an abandoned warehouse. Classic hostage location. “There’s a girl missing, Aaron. I think I see him going into the place where he’s keeping her. I can’t wait,” you say.

There’s a beat. He knows you have a strong point.

“We’re close, Y/N,” Hotch assures you.

The image of the kidnapped girl flashes through your mind. “See you soon,” you say before hanging up the phone.

After the unsub gets out of his car and enters the warehouse, you go around to the back, finding a door there. You venture in slowly and quietly, finding the girl tied to a chair in the middle of the room.

After waiting for a few minutes and not seeing the guy anywhere, you walk towards the girl. “Hey, hey, I’m here to help. I’m an FBI agent-” you flash her your badge. “-my team is on their way, but let’s get you of here.”

“He’s gonna kill me,” the girl whispers once you’ve taken the tape off her mouth. You kneel down to untie her ankles.

“No, he won’t. I’m with you, okay?” You assured her, moving around to the back of the chair to untie her arms.

You’ve loosened the knot and almost got it completely undone when suddenly, you’re grabbed from behind. You go to elbow the guy in the face as he drags you backward, but he sinks his knife into your abdomen before you can.

It burns. It hurts.

Your body knows what’s just happened, but your brain is frozen. Your thoughts are going in slow motion as you struggle to comprehend. It’s only when the guy wrenches the knife out and you scream, vision swarming with the blood you see, that it occurs to you: you’ve been stabbed.

The guy tosses you to the floor and vaguely, you register the sound of the kidnapped girl crying. He steps over you and you use all your strength left to grab onto his ankle and yank, hard, pulling him to the ground. The knife clatters out of his grip.

“Bitch!” He yells, scrambling onto his knees and backhanding you across the face.

“PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR!”

You’d know that roaring voice from anywhere — Aaron’s here with the team. You relax slightly, knowing that they’re going to handle this.

The guy turns around to face the full, angry force of the BAU.

“DO IT NOW!”

He complies and, the second Rossi leads him away in cuffs, Aaron and Derek are by your side while Emily and JJ go to help the girl.

“Someone get a gurney in here!” Derek calls out.

Aaron’s saying something about how you’re going to be fine and they’ll get you to the hospital, but you don’t catch all of his words. He’s stroking your face and you can see that while he’s trying to keep composure, he’s worried. He shrugs his jacket off and presses it down on your wound, making you whine at the pain.

“I’ve gotta stop the bleeding, honey,” he murmurs. You know this. He knows you know this. He has to say it for his own piece of mind, to make sure that you don’t think he’s just hurting you.

“I’m sorry, Aaron,” you mumble to him, feeling your eyelids growing heavy. Your hand twitches, aching for his touch.

He takes your hand and brings it to his lips, kissing your skin and then kissing your forehead. “Shh, shh. None of that. I’m not mad. It’s-it’s only light,” he says.

You know it’s not, but his voice is comforting enough.

Derek’s talking to Aaron over your head. Something about how far out the ambulance is, you think. Comforted that your husband isn’t angry with you, your eyelids close now, and the darkness takes over.

//

The first thing you register when you wake up is beeping. Opening your eyes slowly, you blink a couple times, then see that you must be in a hospital room. The beeping comes from the monitors you’re hooked up to. There’s an IV in your arm, giving you fluids, and you can feel a bit of scratchiness from the hospital gown.

“Honey?”

Your husband’s warm voice fills your ears as he enters your line of sight. He stands up from his chair that’s been drawn up to your bedside, putting aside a newspaper that he was barely reading anyway.

“Hi,” you murmur, stretching your fingers for his hand which he happily supplies you with.

“Hi,” he greets, smiling widely. “You’re in the hospital, as I’m sure you can tell. You’re gonna be just fine but you have to stay here for observation for a little bit. I’ll be with you the whole time. The team’s also in the waiting room — Garcia has many balloons.”

This gets a smile out of you, too. You can just imagine the balloons getting into Derek’s face and how they squabble over it. “Mm. I seem to remember you telling me that my wound was only light, right?” You ask. It’s one of the few things you can recall from the ordeal.

“I was trying to soothe you,” he says, chuckling and squeezing your hand.

“I know,” you assure him, then you pat down on the space next to you. “Sit.”

“I’m not sure if I should—” Aaron says.

“Come here,” you insist, wanting to lie with him.

Unable to say no, he very carefully sits down next to you and wraps you up in his arms. You settle against his chest, finding it a far better pillow.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him, wanting him to know it. “You told me to wait.”

“We can talk about that later, but I’m proud of you. You saved the girl’s life,” he says, kissing your forehead.

He really is the best husband ever. As long as he’s here, everything’s gonna be okay, you think.

[matan4il]

Every once in a while, the magnitude of the Hamas massacre hits me all over again.

I'm not sure most people get it even now.

In absolute numbers, it is one of the three deadliest terrorist attacks in human history (second or third worst, depends on which estimates you trust for the Camp Speicher massacre), but if we take it in relation to the size of the population in the attacked country (which we should, because terrorism by its very nation seeks to victimizes through psychological trauma the entire target population, and not just those who were physically affected during the attack), then what Hamas did IS the single deadliest terrorist attack in the entirety of human history.

But it's even more than that.

Never, in any other attack, have the terrorists taken over as much land as Hamas did on Oct 7. ENTIRE TOWNS were under complete control of the terrorists, some for SEVERAL DAYS (I specifically remember watching a report on one town, where combat with the terrorists was still taking place on Oct 11, meaning on day 5 of this terrorist invasion into Israel). ENTIRE TOWNS WERE OCCUPIED. BY TERRORISTS. There's not a single Hollywood action movie dealing with such a scenario, because NOTHING OF THIS SCALE HAS EVER HAPPENED BEFORE. Imagine waking up and hearing in real time that the northern half of the American states Washington, Idaho and Montana has been taken by terrorists, who are driving through the streets freely, as they murder, pillage, rape, torture, maim, burn and kidnap people, and almost no one's there to stop them.

And then imagine the world expecting the US government to just... let the terrorists retreat to the other side of an international border in the north, after having murdered over 40,400 American, most of which are civilians, almost 183,000 more injured, and while taking with them across the border over 8,450 American hostages, to God knows what awful fate, for how long, or if they will even ever come back alive. Entire communities and regions would be devastated, without knowing if they'd be able to rebuild. The total would be more than 230,000 Americans directly impacted (I've adapted the real numbers from Oct 7 to the size of the American population... Remember the horrendous 9/11 attack, which saw 2,977 victims killed and a few thousands more injured, and think of what would be the emotional punch of over 230,000 direct victims).

Imagine expecting the US to let that go, and allow those terrorists to continue existing and ruling the land on its northern border. Imagine expecting the US to do so while this terrorist organization openly declares that it will repeat this large scale massacre whenever possible, until the entire country is destroyed.

And please don't come at me with "Fine, Israel can react, but not like this." Unless you have the military expertise to explain exactly how Israel can protect its people from this attack ever being repeated, and to free all our hostages, without civilian casualties (despite Hamas intentionally using them as human shields, and even directly causing Gazan deaths), unless you can translate the vague "not like this" into something practical, some actual guidelines on how this urban war could have been fought differently, even though there's no historical precedent to support that this is possible, "not like this" is just wishful thinking at the expense of the safety and right to live of Israelis.

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

[dcxdpdabbles]

Cave boy Danny just casually mentioning things that correspond with Bruce, like the time he stole an experimental power suit and shot a god corresponding with Bruce shooting Darkseid or the Infi-map being like the time Bruce was lost in the time stream, and the bats wondering how this kid can remain a civilian

Danny tried his best to not blink too quickly, as it may cause the stranger to shoot him. He honestly has no idea how he ended up here, but somehow, he was taken hostage alongside a bus full of people on his way to buy some chips.

He got tired of Alfred's instance to ban all junk food from the manor and had snuck out while the Wyanes had been busy going over plans for some big showdown with a guy named Scarecrow.

Danny doesn't know who that is and doesn't care to find out. The less he knows, the less likely he will have to deal with rouge. He's on vacation, dang it.

Or he was until the bus was taken over by a group of men wearing gas masks. They forced their way onto the bus when they stopped for some passengers, forcing the driver at gunpoint to drive them off course, and now they were heading to a wear house. People were crying, but Danny felt like screaming.

He just wanted spicy chips, and- maybe if he had the time- he would swing by the old junkyard to find a steering wheel for his ship! Fenton luck strikes again, it seemed.

"I wouldn't be so smug, Kane," One of the people in a gas mask shouts at him. He blinks up at the woman pointing her gun at his head but scoffs at her stance. His mother would throw a fit if Danny or Jazz ever placed their feet so off balance like that while wielding a weapon. "Once Dr.Crane is done with you-"

"I'm sorry did you just threaten me with myself?" Danny cuts her off. She pauses seemingly thrown before she sputters.

"No- not Kane, Crane."

He blinks at her. "You just said the same thing"

"C-R-A-N-E." She spells in a huff.

"Ohhhhh. Sorry, the mask makes it hard to understand you. Okay, so where were you? Dr. Crane is going to do what with me-?" Danny asks, leaning back in his seat, and waving his hand at her.

There is a moment of silence before she hits him across the face with her gun. "Don't you mock me!"

"Ow." He deadpans, rubbing at his cheek, and wonders if it was supposed to hurt. His healing had vanished the pain before her gun left his skin. "I thought we were having a conversation, but forgive me, I had no idea you had an inferiority complex and assumed everyone was mocking you. Let me guess, no one has ever told you they are proud of you, and now you are defensive of every action you take because-"

"Shut up!" His voice wobbles and Danny knows he hit the nail on the head.

"Does it keep you up at night? Does it freak you out that everyone can see your issues on your face as bright as day? I bet it does it. Bet it causes you to cry like a sad little confused kid who still can't figure out how to ask for help." He doesn't mock. He states it as fact because that is what it was. Fact. She does break down about it; he can tell by her reaction, and his tone makes it all the harder to swallow.

"I'll kill you!"

"Do it." He smiles. "Saves me from your boss. But will that keep you safe? Let's find out! How long will it be before he breaks you down? Ten, maybe fifteen minutes? And he will break you; you know he will. He's already halfway there."

"I-" She stumbles away from him. He doesn't have to see her face to know it's gone pale. Ha.

One of her crew hits her shoulder, having heard him speaking while the rest of the bus stares. "Stop letting him into your head!"

"Oh, what's your name?" Danny asks, blinking his large blue eyes at the man, watching his body language for clues. His eyes zero in on three belts and how they all match up at the buckle despite the fact that they are stacked on top of each other. Didn't Jazz once say that a belt with that much control hinted about attention to detail?

Hmm.

"Is the plan falling apart- can you not control it? The way life just moves on without you and that freaks you out doesn't it. The lake of control?" He asks, and the man jerks back. Bingo.

"Holy shit," A teenager whispers in the back horrified. "It's Dr. Crane jr."

"No, that's the Rabid Dog," Another answer. "Heard he made three elites cry after talking to him for more than ten minutes."

Danny is about to open his mouth when suddenly Robin crashes through the front window. Rude. There is glass everywhere now.

Hours later, Alfred franticly checks him over for injuries while the rest are freaking out. Apparently, they had feared to find Danny screaming from terrible visions but instead found him mentally breaking the hired goons with Jazz's training. "It's not like they did anything. I had a harder time stealing a super suit than those fruitloops-"

"You stole a what?" Tim cuts him off, eyes narrowed. Danny shrugs.

"I mean, haven't we all stolen a super suit?"

"Literally, no one here has done that," Steph tells him, and Danny tilts his head.

"You guys must have had boring childhoods. Surely you at least tried to organize your school into a battle-ready militia? No one can finish school without doing that at least once."

Dick raises a hand. "Brucie, how common is this in your world? Because that's alarming."

"All the kids at my school do that. My graduating class has done it three different times back in freshmen year." He shrugs. Cass makes a strange noise in the back of her throat.

"Not a lie. Brucie is strange," She tells the group, and everyone stares in bewilderment at the boy sitting on the medical table, even Bruce.

Danny smiles at them sweetly like he would at Vlad when the fruitloop is over, and he gets his parents to throw him out sooner than he wants to leave. It curves with just the right amount of innocence and mischievous nature that no one can tell if it's a positive or deadly expression.

"You are from a war-torn world?" Damian inquires, fingers under his chin with a frown. "How are you so carefree?"

"Oh no, we haven't had a war in about- eh fifty years? Give or take." He answers and once again Cass confirms the truth of his words.

This does nothing to settle their nerves.

"Every day I learn more about teenage Bruce, and every day I am more unsettled," Jason announces, and the rest of the Bats nod. Danny's smile turns broader and softer. It makes him more attractive but unsettling in a way.

Alfred sighs with a fond smile. "Oh, the memories. Master Bruce used to smile at his dates in the same way. I can picture him taking that sweet girl to the movies as if though it was yesterday."

"Bruce, how in the world did you get people to date you? That's creepy as hell. " Dick accuses the man who only shrugs.

"Oliver once told me it was part of the thrill. The idea that I could kill them."

"Why!?"

"I wish I knew chum."

Danny slips the control into his sleeve- he will rip it apart later for the Bluetooth piece. He will wait till the Waynes are too busy with Bruce's old stories about his first few dates to take apart the fear gas bomb he took from the woman earlier today. Could he use it as a fuel?

He'll have to do some tests.

[httpwintersoldier]

『jolly sailor bold. || shanks x reader』

[PART 1 OF 4 - ONE PIECE'S KINKTOBER] - SHANKS VER.

[BUGGY VER.] [MIHAWK VER.] [SANJI VER.]

pairing: shanks x f!reader words: lenghtyyyyy summary: your curse leads you to a certain red-haired pirate that ends up taking you hostage for the rest of your life. And you very much agree with the decision. angst; smut; fluff.

You had been cursed as a young child. A devil fruit user with the ability of merging whatever they had in sight had taken you from your mother and merged you with a fish. A cruel revenge plan taken out on an innocent child that was made to forever swim the ocean.

That had obviously changed you, in more ways than physical. You couldn't establish contact with other fish, you couldn't make friends with humans (who thought you were a freak and a monster) and there were no other merefolk (not to your knowledge, at least.

The insanity of the lonely life had taken a toll on you. You had begun luring in lonely pirates and seamen, only to tear them apart and eat them before they realized you weren't human and tried to hunt you.

It had been going on for decades, although your body seemed to not age at all, more parts seemed to be growing in. At first it was just the long, scaly tail that had almost of a metallic blue and green shine to it. Then your eyes fully shifted to a charcoal black colour, and your hair followed suit. And, in the past years, your arms grew fins and your fingers grew webbing, both a pale green colour.

Your years of solitude were cut short when you found a certain red haired pirate.

The top of your head was above the water as you watched the ship. The captain had only one arm and three scars on his left eye. He seemed pretty goofy, along with the rest of the crew. You almost felt bad for killing them. Almost.

You dove down into the cold sea, scratching the bottom of the ship with your nails that were borderline claws at that point, until you found a tall, wide rock in the direction the boat was headed.

You sat on the rock, in such a way that it would hide your tail as best as possible, and began singing with your enchanting voice.

"My heart is pierced by Cupid, I disdain all glittering gold..."

You could hear a ruckus coming from the ship, several feet running on the old, creaking boards of the deck, and soon saw a plethora of men (dinner) standing on the edge, looking at you.

"...there is nothing can console me, but my Jolly Sailor bold..."

You heard more feet scaterring and several voices yelling "Behold Man!" and you smirked devilishly.

As the ship approached, the red haired male you had seen before jumped on the rock you sat on. Big mistake. He knelt down a couple steps away from you.

"Hello little lady, what are you doing here? Are you injured?" The man asked, with a deep voice.

You looked at him through your eyebrows and smirked.

"No, but you're about to be." You replied in a husky voice.

You lunged at the man, taking him under water with you so his mates wouldn't attack you and, as you dragged the male down to drown him, you made the mistake of looking him in the eye. And, as you did so, you felt yourself falter, and your body getting weaker, and weaker. Your eyelids began shutting against their will, and you saw black as your body went limp.

When you woke up, you were startled. Once you found you could, you opened your eyes widely and began struggling, looking for the man you'd caught who should've been floating somewhere next to you, only to find that you were stuck in some sort of wooden tub, your long tail hanging out of it.

You felt as if something was weighing on your chest and you couldn't breathe. Panic. You were panicking. Last time you felt that way you were being thrown in the water by your mother.

"You're awake." A deep voice said beside you.

You carefully looked to the side to find the red haired man you had taken into the sea with you.

"Who... who are you?... Why am I here? How am I here?..." You asked, more to yourself than him, with a dry throat.

You coughed after you did so, and the man handed you water. You looked at the glass carefully, not trusting it. The red haired male sighed and rolled his eyes as he took the cup and sipped on it, to show it wasn't poisoned, before handing back to you.

"I'm Shanks. I'm the Captain of the ship. The "why" would be because you tried to kill me. As for the how... let's just say I'm good at persuading people."

You laughed, after drinking the whole cup in one go.

"Sometimes girls get hungry..." You said, biting your lip.

Shanks simply scoffed.

"You are brave, for someone who's in your position to be talking that way..."

"What can I say..." You shrugged.

There was silence, as Shanks admired your body.

"What are you anyway?..." He asked, leaning closer on the tub.

The way he came closer to you showed how unafraid he was of you, of your... exquisite body, so to speak. That was new, you quite enjoyed it, had he not taken you captive.

"Call it a freak of nature, if you will." You replied, as you shrugged

After the man pressed you once more about your origins and anatomy, you decided to answer truthfully.

"I was cursed. Well, that's the cool way of putting it... Some weird Devil Fruit user has the ability to merge stuff together, be it dead, inanimate or alive. I was the result of an affair, from what I could gather in the fight between this woman and my mom. The wife of the man my mom had an affair with found her and decided to punish her by merging me with a fish I guess... In the beginning it was just small changes, some gills and scales, had to spend a lot of time in the bathub but nothing too hard, so my mom attempted to raise me like this. She gave up when the tail began to develop and threw me in the ocean..."

Shanks' eyebrows were furrowed and his eyes were set on your fish-like characteristics as he heard your explanation.

"And you resorted to eating humans?..."

You shrugged once more. It was your go-to answer, it seemed. No better way to show indifference.

"It's either humans or fish. Both of them are part of me, but only one of them cursed me, then cast me away and treated me as a monster."

"But not all humans are to blame for your... curse." The man tried to reason.

"I was also not to blame for my mother's mistakes. Yet here we are." You replied quickly, looking him in the eye with your orbs, devoid of any colour.

Shanks sighed and slapped his thighs as he stood up.

"Hey! Wait!" You semi-yelled, making Shanks stop and turn around "What's to happen to me? What will you do with me?"

"Seems like there is only one thing to do..." He said, sighing and placing his hand on his hip "We'll find the Devil Fruit user and get them to undo this."

Your eyes shined for a moment and your face lit up, before reminding yourself that the race you were talking to was untrustworthy, and the cold expression that was so familiar to you returned to your faced.

"Why. What's in it for you? Aren't you going to sell me to some freak show? Or keep me as a pet?"

Shanks sighed again.

"The only freak show master I know doesn't have me in great consideration, and you talk too much to be a pet and are not that useful." Ouch. "It seems like we'd be saving a lot of lives by helping you. Including your own."

He didn't give you time to reply, as the Captain left the room and closed the door.

You huffed, and relaxed in the tub, realizing that you had been tense this whole time. There was nothing you could do but trust these men now... It was nearly impossible for you to hop out of the tub and drag yourself out on the deck and into the ocean without being heard or seen flopping around, and the porthole next to you was far too small for you to fit through it...

As the sun set and darkness enveloped the room, the red haired man stepped in with a light being held by his mouth and a tray on his hand.

"Do you usually carry stuff with you mouth?" You joke with a teasing smirk.

The man set down the light and the tray, and pushed back the cape to reveal he had only one arm.

You felt embarrassed for a second, but wouldn't let it show (obviously).

"Seems like someone got to you before me." You joked with a simpathetic smile.

The man let out a belly laugh and picked up the tray again, handing it to you.

"You're a cheeky one for sure..." The captain commented and sat on a chair in the corner of the room.

You stared at the tray, it was some sort of meat you obviously didn't recognize and bread.

"This is what?" You asked, a little disgusted, pointing at the sead animal in front of you.

"It's chicken legs. You know, food from an animal that isn't either part of you." The man joked with a smile, pointing between your human torso and fish tail, and you laughed a little.

You picked it up carefully and examined it. You gave up the poison suspicions, if he wanted to kill you he would've done so. You took a small bite, waiting for a nasty taste to hit your tongue, but surprisingly you found it delicious. You widened your eyes and looked at him in shock, before devouring the meal in front of you.

"I take it you enjoyed the food?" Shanks asks with a chuckle, as he raised his eyebrows.

"It was edible." You replied jokingly, licking your fingers.

After taking the tray, the man remained in the room, surprisingly.

"You're staying?" You asked, cocking your head and blinking rapidly, as your eyes were used to a lot more moisture.

"Well, only one person keeps guard at night and I don't quite trust you to not go out there and kill him. I think I'm the only one that can take care of you." He said and winked.

You felt hot. Why did you feel hot? The bath water was cold. Just as you thought about his wink, you shivered.

Shanks raised an eyebrow and looked at the water.

"Is it too cold?"

Before you could reply, he stood up and dipped his hand in the water. Having his hand so close to you... So close to touching your body... It sent a strange feeling through your body, and you didn't know how to react.

"It's... fine. We don't have heaters in the ocean."

Shanks knelt down next to the tub so he could be face-to-face with you.

"Yeah, but you also don't have still water. That," he said, pointing at the water you sat in "will get pretty disgusting if it's not changed, unlike the ocean."

You looked at the water and it was safe to say the man was right. The sediments entagled in your gills and scales from sleeping on the sand, as well as some algae that had gotten stuck to you began staining the water as it cleaned you.

Shanks, realizing you had silently agreed with him, laid a towel on the ground and picked you up over his shoulder. You shrieked and grabbed onto his shirt, not being used to being carried (or manhandled). The captain slowly placed you on the towel, and you watched as he cleaned the tub and replaced the dirty water.

"Why are you going through all of this trouble? It doesn't make sense. What's in it for you?" You asked, seemingly getting defensive all of the sudden.

Shanks scoffed and looked over his shoulder as he worked.

"You have to stop thinking there's something in it for me, sweetheart. I just think you haven't been given a fair chance. Before labeling you as anything, I want to make sure you have a fair chance to become the person you think you should be."

You were out of words. Apologies and "thank you's" were not your strong suit, so you kept quiet. The captain took the lack of response as acceptance, and finished the job.

You could very easily flop back into the tub - you had been climbing up rocks and jumping from them all your life, after all - but you enjoyed it when Shanks picked you up and laid you down in such a careful way, so you didn't protest.

You spent the next three months of the search for the Devil Fruit user listening intently to Shanks' pirate stories and (unconsciously) fawning over him every night when he came to watch over you.

After the first month he trusted you to stay alone, but he woudn't leave you. He'd rather have your company. The Captain loved the way your big eyes shined as you looked at him, paying attention to every of his words.

Both your feelings were very obvious, and had anyone been in the room with the two of you they would've called you out on it. But that was the best part of your "sessions": it felt like a secret. It felt so intimate, it was honestly ironic how either of you failed to realize how infatuated you were with each other.

"Y/N!" The Captain said happily as he walked in the room and knelt down next to the tub.

You crossed your arms on the edge of the tub and laid your head on them.

"Yes, Captain?"

You had began calling him Captain as a joke, but he not-so-secretly loved it, and it showed: he couldn't keep the big, stupid smile off of his face whenever he heard you call him Captain.

"We found her!" The man said, holding your face with his hand "We found the devil fruit user!"

A wave of emotions washed over you. First you were happy, ecstatic even. But then came the panic, fear, uncertainty... And it showed.

"Y/N, what's wrong? You look... disappointed?" Shanks asked, not quite sure how to decipher your look.

You opened your mouth to speak, but you didn't know what to say or how to express what you were feeling - it was all brand new. Thankfully, Shanks gave you time.

"I just..." you started "I don't know. What will happen next? I don't know how to live among people, will I even like it? Will I even be able to walk? Will I miss the sea?" Tears streamed down your face and you were in a panicked state as you thought of all things that could go wrong.

Shanks hugged you and caressed your semi-wet hair.

"Sweetheart," you learned to love that nickname, it always put you at ease "I can't force you to go back to who you were, but I think you'd be infinitely happier on land, with people to talk to, with people to have fun with, with... someone to love." Shanks' voice brokw a little, as he thought of you living happily side by side with someone that wasn't him, but he cleared his throat and carried on "You can always choose to swim in the sea, and you can choose to walk on land and live as you were made to. I know it must be scary, all change is scary, but you won't have to be alone anymore"

By the time he finished, your heart was beating fast for different reasons and your breathing had calmed down.

When you pulled away from the hug, your faces were mere centimiters apart. You could both feel the tension and the attraction, but none of you dared move. You were almost sure you were both feeling the same.

"What do you say, Y/N?" He whispered.

You smiled widely and nodded.

"Let's do it."

The next few days of sailing were intense and overcome with emotion, but it wasn't long after your conversation with Shanks that the red-haired man came in with a big smile. He didn't even bother grabbing a towel - he was far too excited for that. The man picked you up, not caring that he got drenched in tub water, and carried you out to the deck.

The sun hurt your eyes and it took you a while to get accostumed, but the strangest part was Shanks.

"Do it." He said, turned to someone you could not see since you were still flung over his shoulder.

His voice was cold, demanding and soulless. You had never heard it this way, and you had a hard time assimilating that it was, in fact, the Shanks that you knew (and loved).

There was a long silence, it seemed like no one dared move, speak or breathe.

Suddenly, a woman cleared her throat, and you felt as if your body was being ripped apart. You gripped Shanks' back and tried not to make noise, but you couldn't help the toe-curling scream that left your mouth.

You could feel your legs slowly separating, and after a few excruciating minutes your body fell to the ground weakly.

"Y/N! Y/N?" Shanks called, hovering over you and cupping your cheek.

You opened my eyes and looked down at your legs, arms and hands.

"Legs!" You yelled happily and looked up at Shanks "Shanks I have legs!"

Shanks wrapped his arm around your waist and spun you around.

"Shit! It worked!" He said, looking at your face, still holding you up by the waist, as he was afraid you wouldn't be able to stand on your legs just yet.

As he looked down, Shanks realized you were (obviously) naked, and that your body was glued to his. The Captain blushed and fought off any... improper thoughts - he surely wished he had brought the towel.

The man cleared his throat and wrapped his cape around you as he carried you inside and ordered his crew to escort the Devil Fruit user back to the port.

Shanks sat you on a chair on his room and looked through his drawers for some clean clothes,

"Uh here- this ought to fit you."

His cheeks were red (as were yours) and he looked away as you put on his large shirt and a pair of loose pants.

"Can you walk?" The Captain asked.

You gripped the sides of the chair nervously.

"I don't... I don't know."

Shanks silently held out his hand, inviting you to try. You took it and slowly stood up. Your legs were a little wobbly and your walk was a little unsure and weak, but you sure could still do it. Muscle memory from before-fish-time, you assumed.

"I did it!" You said, wrapping your arms around him.

"You did it!" He cheered as well, wrapping his arm around your waist.

When you pulled away from the hug, your faces were close, and after all those years of luring men, you had never wanted to kiss one until Shanks came along.

"Now you can go resume your life back in your hometown!" The man said with a smile.

You stumbled away from him, suddenly finding the strenght to stand on your own.

"What?" You asked, incredulous.

"You can... go! You can live your life again, Y/N." He repeated, not understanding your reaction.

You scoffed, hurt and disappointed. You'd think that after spending every single night together for three months the reaction would be different. You thought Shanks felt the same about you, you thought he'd pick you up, spin you around, kiss you and ask you to stay on the ship, but no. The second you took a couple steps, he was ready to send you on your way.

"Yeah. That's probably best if I go. I'll leave right away."

You turned around, exited the room and slammed the door shut, leaving a confused Shanks behind. You wobbled away as fast as you could, using the walls of the ship as help, persistently fighting off the tears.

"Y/N! Wait! You're leaving now?" He asked, chasing after you.

"Well you want me gone! Might as well start now!" You said while walking.

Shanks grabbed your wrist and you tried to free yourself from it, but his grasp was firm.

"Y/N can we- Y/N can you stop struggling please? Y/N-" When the Captain got tired of asking, he picked you up and brought you to his room, throwing you on the bed as he closed the door with his foot.

"What is wrong with you!?" He roared, looking down at you with a look you couldn't decipher.

You stood up weakly.

"What's wrong with me!? What's wrong with you!" You countered, looking at him with the same mix of emotions running through you.

"Me!? I got you your body back! I freed you! And all I get is a cold shoulder and not even a goodbye? Maybe you are a cold hearted monster after all!"

Silence.

Silence as those words hit you like a brick and Shanks realized what had left his mouth. Tears streamed down your cheeks uncontrollably for the first time in over a decade.

"Y/N-"

He was cut off by you trying to reach the door without another word. The Captain stood between you and the door.

"Y/N please I'm sorry I didn't mean-"

"Let me leave! Let me leave! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!" You yelled at the top of your lungs, banging on his chest with closed fists out of frustration.

"Please Y/N, I'm begging you! I'm- I'm sorry! I was hurt!"

"Oh you were hurt? That's rich!" You said, laughing cynically.

"What is that supposed to mean?" He asked, more calmly.

You stumbled backwards and let yourself fall on the bed, sitting down since you weren't used to standing for long.

"You spent three months with me, every night. You were the only person I ever shared anything with. And then the first chance you get... You want me to leave? To send me away? I-Is that all I am? A project?"

Shanks knelt in front of you, taking your face in his hand like he had done many times before, but this time, it held a completely different meaning.

"Y/N... Is that what you think? You genuinely think I want you to go?" His thumb wiped your tears as he looked into your glossy eyes.

"You... don't? Then why did you say that?..."

Shanks chuckled and looked away for a second before looking back at you.

"Y/N, I want you to stay by my side every day until I die of some stupid reason." You and him cracked a smile at the small joke "I obviously didn't want you to leave, never did. I dreaded this day because I thought you'd want to leave... to be free to explore, find yourself and finally get out of this ship."

You cupped his face gently and felt him lean into your touch.

"Shanks... this is my home. You're my home. Plus, what better placed to explore in than a fucking ship!" I said with a smile and laughed.

Shanks retributed the smile, twice as big, and laughed as well.

"Hey little lady! Language!" He jokingly told you off.

You stared into each other's eyes as your heads tilted ever so slightly. That was the moment. It felt right. It felt perfect.

Your lips touched slightly, and you pulled away just as quickly, trying to process the moment. But when you realized how much you wanted it, how much you needed it, you grabbed him by his collar and pulled him closer, smashing your lips together. The kiss was rough and passionate, full of emotion.

"Princess I planned on taking it slow, but if you keep this up I won't be able to hold back much longer." Shanks whispered as he left sloppy kisses on your neck.

"Don't hold back. I want to feel everything I've been missing out on." You moaned.

"Well in that case," Shanks paused, as he manhandled you to lay on the bed and spread your legs so he could hover over you "let's give the crew something to complain about, shall we?"

The Captain didn't wait for your response, he simply captured your lips in a rough kiss once more and yanked down the pants you were wearing. His fingers slowly travelled down your body and parted your folds. You watched as he then took them up to his mouth and licked them clean.

"Who knew you'd still be this wet outside of the water?"

You blushed and rolled your eyes with a smile at the cheeky jokes you'd come to love.

Shanks removed his cape and shirt, and then kissed down your body, slightly pushing up the shirt you wore to reach your stomach. He pondered on removing the shirt, but decided against it - the Captain thought you'd look good being fucked in his shirt.

He toyed around your pussy, biting and kissing several spots on your inner thighs until you were moaning desperately.

"Please touch me there Shanks..." You begged.

That was his cue to begin eating you out like a hungry man. You didn't even know how to describe the feeling, but that didn't stop you from trying.

"F-fuck! That's so good Shanks- so good!" You moaned, as one of your hands gripped his sheets and the other tugged on his hair.

He moaned at the feeling of his hair being pulled and you swore the vibrations made it even better.

Shanks slapped your inner thigh and gripped it over and over, and you could feel something in the pit of your stomach forming.

"Oh shit-" You moaned.

Your breathing accelerated and your eyes closed as your back arched, preparing for whatever was coming.

When suddenly Shanks' mouth pulled away.

"What did you do that for?" You whined, looking at him through your lashes.

Shanks hovered over you and kissed you deeply. You could taste yourself on his tongue and you both moaned into each other's mouths.

"If you're going to cum for the first time sweetheart, you're doing it on my cock."

His hand expertly pulled his cock out, and you whimper-gasped when you felt it hit your pussy.

You looked down at it and widened your eyes.

Shanks laughed and caressed your cheek.

"You okay there, princess?" The Captain asked as he ran the tip of his cock along your folds, making you hiss.

"I'm- I have mixed feelings. Is all that going in me? And it feels good?"

Shanks chuckled and pecked your lips.

"I'll go slow, doll. If it doesn't feel good, you tell me, okay?"

You nodded, giving him the greenlight.

Shanks pushed into you, very slowly, carefully watching your face through the whole thing, until he bottomed out inside you.

"How you doing, dollface?" The man asked.

He wanted nothing more than to ram into you until the only word you could say was his name, but the man was patient.

"It feels... odd. But good. K-keep going." You said, suddenly feeling hot and shy.

Shanks slowly moved in and out of you, finding a merciful pace to fuck you in. His hand found your ass, that he gripped as tightly as he could without hurting you, taking out some of the frustration of not being able to fuck you as he wanted.

It became especially hard when you began tightening around his cock and moaning his name.

"Go faster, please-"

Those words were the only thing he wanted to hear. Shanks slapped the aprt of your ass he could reach from that position and steadily picked up the pace in which he fucked you.

"S-shit this is so fucking good Shanks!"

Your praises and moans were the sweetest sound he'd ever heard, and the man wanted to hold on as long as he could, to listen to them as long as possible.

The way his shirt looked on you while he fucked you was an even bigger ego-boost for him. You looked his, you looked like you belonged to him. Wearing his shirt, on his bed, with his cock buried deep in you... Fuck, it was a sight to see.

He bent over as he fucked you, his hand grabbing the base of your neck as his lips left sloppy kisses and small bites all over it.

"I wanna fuck you dumb. I wanna fuck your pretty little pussy so hard Y/N."

You didn't know how much you enjoyed dirty talking until you heard him whisper those words to you, and the most sinful moan left your mouth.

"Do it! Shit- fuck!" You cursed as he fucked you at an impossible pace.

Skin slapping and squelching sounds filled the room along with your moans and groans, and the familiar feeling at the pit of your stomach returned. You had no way of knowing you were about to cum so you couldn't warn your partner, but Shanks knew. From the way your back arched once more, and your hand gripped the wrist that was gripping your thigh, he knew you were close.

Shanks tried to hold off his orgasm as long as possible, and it was painful but oh so worth it. Your pleasure-filled face, mouth agape followed by the incessant calls for his name in the form of moans... it was art.

He came right after, burying his cock deep in you, making sure it all stayed in. His mark.

The Captain pulled out of you with a groan and plopped next to you. You waited no time to roll over and lay your head on his chest, swinging your leg over one of his as he wrapped his arm around you, his hand laying on your butt softly.

"I don't think I'll be able to walk for a different reason now..." You said, smiling up at him.

"Hey you're getting good at making corny jokes like me!"

You laughed together, then a deep silence ensued.

"Shanks... did you mean that?"

He cocked his head slightly.

"About what? Wanting to fuck you dumb? Oh very much!"

You laughed and slapped his chest.

"No! About... really wanting me here... by your side."

Shanks smiled as he looked at you fondly and placed a soft kiss on your lips.

"If you promise to tolerate me, I'd like to have you by my side until the end of my days."

[workersolidarity]

[ 📹 Scenes of chaos and fear after the Israeli occupation forces bombed a school housing displaced Palestinian families opposite Nasser Medical Complex west of the city of Khan Yunis, in the southern Gaza Strip, after displacing civilians from other areas of the enclave. 📈 Current death toll in Gaza exceeds 37'953 Palestinians killed, while another 87'266 others have been wounded since Oct. 7th. ]

🇮🇱⚔️🇵🇸 🚀🏘️💥🚑 🚨

GENOCIDE CONTINUES ON DAY 271: ISRAELI OCCUPATION REACHES OUT TO GAZA CLAN LEADERS, HAMAS WARNS OF RETALIATION FOR COLLABORATORS, ZIONIST COLONIAL SETTLERS CONTINUE RAIDING AL-AQSA MOSQUE, AL-QUDS BRIGADES SAY HOSTAGES ATTEMPTED SUICIDE AS THEIR TREATMENT BECOMES MORE SEVERE FOLLOWING REPORTS OF TORTURE IN ISRAELI PRISONS, SLAUGHTER OF CIVILIANS CONTINUES

On 271st day of the Israeli occupation's ongoing special genocide operation in the Gaza Strip, the Israeli occupation forces (IOF) committed a total of 3 new massacres of Palestinian families, resulting in the deaths of no less than 28 Palestinian civilians, mostly women and children, while another 125 others were wounded over the previous 24-hours.

It should be noted that as a result of the constant Israeli bombardment of Gaza's healthcare system, infrastructure, residential and commercial buildings, local paramedic and civil defense crews are unable to recover countless hundreds, even thousands, of victims who remain trapped under the rubble, or who's bodies remain strewn across the streets of Gaza.

This leaves the official death toll vastly undercounted as Gaza's healthcare officials are unable to accurately tally those killed and maimed in this genocide, which must be kept in mind when considering the scale of the mass murder.

A number of Israeli hostages have attempted suicide in the detention of the Palestinian resistance. This is according to the Al-Quds Brigades, belonging to the group Palestinian Islamic Jihad (PIJ).

In a statement, the Al-Quds Brigades said that several Israeli hostages in their care had attempted suicide due to the severe frustration they feel owing to their government's disinterest in recovering their detainees, and due to the deteriorating treatment they are receiving from their captors.

According to Al-Quds, as a result of the horrendous treatment of Palestinian prisoners at the hands of the Israeli occupation army in occupation prisons, including allegations of torture, rape, withholding of food and water, blindfolding, medical abuse and more, the Palestinian resistance group has taken a decision to treat their detainees harshly.

"Our decision in the Al-Quds Brigades to treat the occupation's prisoners in the same way as our prisoners inside the prisons, will remain in effect as long as the terrorist government continues its unjust measures against our people and prisoners. He who warns is excused," Al-Quds said in its statement.

In the meantime, one of the main reasons the Palestinian resistance factions cited for conducting Operation Al-Aqsa Flood on October 7th, 2023, was the regular raids by Zionist colonial settlers of the Al-Aqsa Mosque compound in occupied Al-Quds (Jersusalem), one of the holiest sites in Islamic religion.

Those raids continue to occur, with groups of dozens of Zionist colonial settlers storming the compound on Wednesday, while under the protection of the Israeli occupation army.

Local eyewitnesses reported today that groups of dozens of Zionist colonial settlers raided the Al-Aqsa Mosque compound, touring the Mosque's courtyard and performing provocative Talmudic rituals as the occupation army protected the settlers.

The report also added that the Occupation Shin Bet Police stormed the Old City of occupied Al-Quds, turning the area into a military barracks, while hundreds of police were deployed to secure the area, in particular near the gates of the Al-Aqsa compound.

The Shin Bet also tightened security measures at the gates of the Old City, as well as Al-Aqsa Mosque, while imposing restrictions on the entry of Palestinian worshippers.

In other news on Wednesday, July 3rd, the London-based Reuters news-wire service is reporting that the Israeli entity has been reaching out to the leaders of major Gaza clans, looking to find Palestinians that are not associated with Hamas or other Palestinian resistance factions to oversee the final stages of the occupation's plans in the Gaza Strip, and to eventually replace the Hamas movement in governing the enclave.

Reuters says the Israeli occupation remains under heavy pressure from the United States to bring an end to the war in the Gaza Strip, but does not want Hamas to retain control over the Strip.

As a result, the Israeli occupation's leadership is forming plans for the "day after" the end of the war, including forming a governing structure parallel to the Hamas government that has led the Gaza Strip since 2007, hoping to shape an alternative civil administration involving Palestinians that are not associated with the Palestinian Resistance movement.

Unfortunately for the occupation, this leaves few plausible options, with the current focus being on the heads of powerful Palestinian clans in Gaza, which the Israeli entity has been attempting to woo in recent days.

Speaking with Reuters, Senior Palestine Analyst at the International Crises Group, a Brussels-based think-tank, Tahani Mustafa, says the Zionist entity has been "actively looking for local tribes and families on the ground to work with them."

According to Tahani Mustafa, the Gaza Clans "don’t want to get involved, in part because they fear retribution from Hamas."

The threat is a real one for Gaza's Clan leaders, who fear retribution from Hamas, who, despite the Israeli occupation's determination to destroy the Resistance group, retains its control over large sections of the Palestinian enclave.

Sure enough, a correspondant with Reuters asked the director of Gaza's media office, Ismail Thawabteh, what the consequences would be for those who cooperate with the Zionist regime, who responded by saying “I expect the response to be deadly for any clan or party that agrees to implement the occupation’s plans. I expect the response to be lethal from the resistance factions.”

Occupation Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu has acknowledged the challenges he will face in instituting a new governing structure in the Gaza Strip, claiming his government has reached out to Gaza's clans, but that Hamas "eliminated" them, adding that his Defense Ministry had a new plan, but would not elaborate on it, stating only that he was not willing to bring in the Palestinian Authority to govern in Gaza.

The Palestinian clans are made up of powerful families in the Gaza Strip, ones which do not have formal connections with the Hamas resistance movement, with each clan having a leader known as a "mukhtar", which under British rule, prior to the creation of the Israeli entity in 1948, were heavily relied on to govern.

Following Hamas' rise to power, the clans powers were limited by the religious movement, but were still allowed a certain degree of autonomy, while clans remain influential and own a number of commercial businesses and facilities in the Palestinian enclave

The Israeli occupation already retains contact with Gaza's clans in order to coordinate commercial shipments and deliveries, among other practical issues.

According to Reuters, clan leaders are reluctant to disclose contacts with the Israeli occupation, while others said the mukhtars would not cooperate with the Zionist entity.

One of Gaza's clan leaders that spoke with Reuters said he knew of calls other mukhtars had had with the Israeli authorities, but that "I expect that mukhtars will not cooperate with these games," citing anger with the occupation over its genocide of Palestinians in the Strip, which has killed a number of clan members and destroyed much of their property.

Meanwhile, the slaughter of civilians, along with the destruction of housing and public infrastructure in Gaza, continues into its 10th month as the occupation army bombs and shells various areas of the enclave.

The Israeli occupation forces (IOF) continued on Wednesday with its attacks on the Al-Shujaiya neighborhood, east of Gaza City, bombing residential homes and causing the deaths of a number of Palestinian civilians, including women and children, while local rescue crews were unable to reach sites due to the continued bombardment and gunfire from occupation drones.

In a new atrocity, Zionist warplanes bombed a residential house belonging to the Maqat family in the vicinity of the Sheikh Radwan neighborhood, north of Gaza City, after which, local paramedic crews managed to recover the bodies of 7 civilians killed in the strikes, along with 7 wounded victims from under the rubble. The casualties were transported to Al-Ahli Baptist Hospital in the city.

Simultaneously, Zionist artillery shelling pummeled the Tal al-Hawa neighborhood, southwest of Gaza City, while gunfire from occupation armored vehicles targeted citizen's homes.

Similarly, Israeli quadcopter drones fired at civilians in various areas of Gaza City, in conjuction with the violent artillery shelling of the Al-Zaytoun neighborhood, southeast of the city.

An Israeli occupation fighter jet also fired a missile into the Al-Ghafri printing press on Jaffa Street, in the Al-Tuffah neighborhood, east of Gaza City, while another Zionist aircraft fired a missile into a residential apartment complex in the Zarqa neighborhood of Gaza City, leaving rescue crews to search the rubble for the dead and wounded.

In the meantime, the Palestinian Red Crescent Society (PRCS) is reporting that two civilians were wounded as a result of an occupation airstrike on a residential house belonging to the Kurd family, in the Beit Lahiya Project in Gaza's north, while the wounded were transferred to Kamal Adwan Hospital near the Jabalia Camp.

The Israeli occupation army also shelled several areas of the Nuseirat Refugee Camp, in the central Gaza Strip, as well as in the Al-Zahra'a area, and the Al-Mughraqa area, coinciding with intense occupation gunfire.

IOF warplanes also continue their bombardment of residential homes and apartment complexes in central and western Rafah, in the southern Gaza Strip.

The Zionist entity continued its war crimes when it bombed a gathering of civilians attempting to return to their homes in the Al-Shujaiya neighborhood, east of Gaza City, resulting in the deaths of four Palestinians and wounding more than 17 others.

In another atrocity, an Israeli drone bombed a civilian vehicle in the Al-Maghazi Refugee Camp, in central Gaza, killing three more civilians and wounding several others who were taken to Al-Aqsa Martyrs Hospital in Deir al-Balah.

In the meantime, areas northeast of the Jabalia Camp sustained intermittent artillery shelling from the occupation army, wounding a number of Palestinian civilians.

The crimes of the Zionist occupation continued with an airstrike that targeted a residential apartment in the Nuseirat Camp, in central Gaza, killing two Palestinians and wounding several others who were transported to Al-Aqsa Martyrs Hospital.

Local civil defense crews also managed to recover the bodies of 7 murdered Palestinians from the Tal al-Sultan neighborhood, west of the city of Rafah, in the southern Gaza Strip, including 5 completely charred bodies.

Later, on Wednesday afternoon, the Zionist army bombed a group of Palestinians in the Jahar al-Dik area near Al-Nuseirat, killing two and wounding others who were transferred to Al-Awda Hospital in the Nuseirat Camp.

Due to the continued bombing of public infrastructure in the southern Gaza Strip, including water treatment plants, wells, and sewage systems, deep levels of sewage now run through the streets of Khan Yunis, where hundreds of thousands of Palestinians have been forced to reside after being displaced from one area after another, now being ordered into the city by the Zionist occupation army.

As a result of the Israeli occupation's ongoing war of extermination in the Gaza Strip, the infinitely rising death toll now exceeds 37'953 Palestinians killed, including upwards of 10'000 women and well over 15'000 children, while another 87'266 others have been wounded since the start of the current round of Zionist aggression, beginning with the events of October 7th, 2023.

July 3rd, 2024.

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@WorkerSolidarityNews

[smuddee-papabear]

Thinking of a dragon that's hoard is entirely made up of knights who came to slay him and were all fucked out of their minds instead. (male dragon X male reader)

Just imagine you're a knight sent to slay a dragon who has killed an unholy amount of your fellow knights. You're not feeling too great about your chances but you weren't given a choice by your king, who just wants the beast's horns mounted above his throne.

You found the cave easily, even getting in was a breeze, but instead of piles of jewels and other fineries you see a good chunk of half or fully naked men lounging casually.

You're almost too shocked to notice the unmistakable feeling of something looming behind you. But notice it you do.

Whirling around isn't an option. A large clawed hand curls around your torso as a single claw slips your helmet off. Hot breath hits your newly exposed neck.

"Hello little knight. Did the king send me another treasure for my hoard?"

The men in the cave turn at the voice, and with heavy shock you realize that you recognize several of them. A blonde man lounging nude next to a natural pool was the very knight sent out before you.

His knowing smile does nothing to ease your confusion.

The dragon lets out a low growl as he turns you around. "Look at me little one."

You brace your sword for an attack but the creature stuns all action from you. His emerald scales seem to glitter in the dappled light, massive curled horns framing the sharp face lowered to stare back at you. There's an elegant grace to his poised musculature; powerful but sleek.

His body is long and slender. It's nothing like the stocky build you were expecting to encounter. Lost in awe you almost miss the sound of your sword clattering upon the stones.

His amber eyes crinkle as if in amusement. There's an animalistic playfulness in them that holds you hostage. "Quite a lovely little trinket you are. Come, we'll get those awful chunks of metal from your body so I may see you properly."

Before you can object you're scooped up in those massive claws and taken to a smaller pocket in the cave out of view to the others. You were back to complete confusion.

Dragons were supposed to like treasure, gold and jewels and silver, not knights.

Your armor is removed with a delicate and practiced air. This was most definitely not the first time the dragon unclothed a human knight.

Stripped bare you suddenly feel self conscious. The way the dragon's gaze trails every curve, every scar and blemish, causes a fire to burn across your skin.

A low rumble fills the cavern. "Yes, you will make a fine addition to my hoard."

Movement draws your eyes to the dragon's lower legs. A spear tipped cock was unsheathing, already dripping to the stones. It was small for his size but still massive compared to yourself.

Was he expecting you to take that? You figured it would end up splitting you in two. Again before you can protest you are firmly pressed into the fur lined bed.

His long tongue trails down, the warmth giving you goosebumps as it travels over your sternum to your belly and even lower. A whine slips from your lips as your own cock hardens in response. The dragon lets out a rumble.

Something slides to your ass. For a moment you panic, thinking it to be the dragon's cock already, and twist to see. It's not his penis.

You realize it's a claw, worn down to a dull point for safety. As your entrance is teased you fight against you own thoughts. You shouldn't enjoy this! You should be slaying the beast!

But you can't deny the warm weight that settles in your lower stomach, the barely contained whimpers. Many knights have lovers but you chose not to. You wanted to be fully dedicated to your training. Unfortunately that didn't mean that you didn't feel the urges, it just meant you never acted on them before.

And now you are so desperate to feel it that your orders are slipping from your mind.

Your dragon licks and teases until you're shaking. Once you're a begging mess he pulls his claw back and positions his cock. You moan as it goes in.

It's so large it burns but not in a way that makes you want to stop. In, in in, until he bottoms out. You never thought you'd feel this full. Your dragon waits until your muscles ease to start a steady pace.

His rumbles combine with your groans. You scramble to grab ahold of him, finding his forearms, and arch your back. New sensations wipe the last of your concerns from your mind.

"Ple-please-!" Your breathy whisper causes your dragon to shudder. From the side of your vision you see his pupils blow out.

No longer gentle, you dragon's eyes roll up as his hips buck the thick penis into your hole over and over. The calm pace turns into a fever pitch. You squirm from the overwhelming pleasure rolling over you in thundering waves.

You feel a climax building and with a breathy gasp white ropes shoot out onto your dragon's scales and your own belly. That only encourages him more.

He takes quite a few more minutes, amazing minutes, to cum himself. A roar shakes the cavern.

Your dragon doesn't collapse on you so much as lays down but his weight still bears down strong. Both of you are breathing hard.

"The claiming process is long, trinket. I need to be sure it properly sticks." Your chest heaves in anticipation. A few hours, the rest of the day, you weren't sure how long long was but you find yourself too cock drunk to care. The dragon's tongue laps your chest again.

In the end, "long" is a three day haze of pleasure and climaxes. Being sent to slay the dragon, you decide, was the best thing to happen to you.