Israels actions against Palestine make me sick to my stomach. Every time I look at the news I see some new horror they are committing, and see how they are justifying the inexcusable, I feel sick to my stomach with rage. But now, in the heart of Ramadan, the word angry feels too small for the fire I feel in my chest.
Palestine will not be able to properly celebrate Ramadan this year. Trying to explain the situation to people who have never interacted with the community is difficult. Even when thinking to myself, I have the urge to compare it to what I know. "Imagine if there was no Christmas." "Imagine if someone took away Easter." "Imagine there was no food on Thanksgiving."
But Ramadan is not any of those things. The fact that there is no Ramadan in Palestine should be enough to make you angry.
I've been living in a muslim country for six months now. Ramadan is not nearly as festive as Eid was, but its presence is unmistakable. You can taste the joy in the air. Children here get out of school early this month. There is a school across from my home; I hear their laughter every day. String lights hang from the balconies of my neighbors, wrap around palm trees, dangle from streetlights. In the news I read that the Sheik has pardoned hundreds of prisoners, paying off their fines himself in the spirit of charity. Shops here are decorated to match, with cut out stars and crescent moons and streamers. Many shops offer discounts. "70% off home delivery."
There are festivals in the streets and lectures in the colleges.
It is wonderful. And the people of Palestine do not have this. Their fasting is forced, their children out of school by force, their houses lit by firebombs and not crescent moon LEDs, homes that smell of gunsmoke instead of oud.
I hate Israel. It feels childish to admit this. It feels like a shortcoming; hate is what causes this crisis, I should be able to focus on loving Palestine instead of adding more hate to the world. But it is a word I can't help but feel when I think about what Isreal has done, is doing, will do to the people of Palestine. What injustices they will force upon them next. Hate. It's not something I say lightly, but it is something I feel I must say.
I am not disappointed in Israel. I am not sympathetic to their 'cause.' I will not censor myself to sound more moderate, to convince the undecided. I hate Israel. I hate Israel. I hate Israel.
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HAPPY EARLY BIRTHDAY <3
Can I request something fluffy with Jumin? I love how you write him being soft and fluffy, it's adorable!
Thank you <333
HEYO, DEARIE!!
Omo, another legend has graced my lil blog, I am just LLFLLBLBLB ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️
Thank you so much for waiting, Star!!
“What do you wanna watch?”
“Nothing.”
“Didn’t you want to see that new horror anthology series?”
“Yes.”
“So why can’t we watch that!”
Jumin pursed his lips — then very slowly looked at you.
“What!” You smiled, wiggling your toes in anticipation. “What was it called so I can look it up?”
Jumin said nothing, his eyes still staring into yours.
“What!!” You giggled, pressing your heel into his thigh.
“… Hm. Fifteen minutes.” Taking the remote from your hand, Jumin began to type in the name of the show.”
“Fifteen min — what are you talking about?” You sat up and hugged your knees.
Focused on the screen, Jumin’s hands affectionately stroked your calves. “Now, mmm, twenty-five minutes. Give or take.”
“… Okay, you’re being really creepy right now.”
Jumin turned his head, winked at you, and scrolled to the show’s icon. “Ready?”
“Wait, fifteen minutes for what? Twenty-five minutes for what!” Impatient, you reached over and pinched Jumin’s earlobe.
“Ow.”
“I’ll let go when you tell me what you’re talking about!”
“I can’t, mousseline. I’m conducting an experiment, and if I tell you what I’m doing, the results will be tainted.”
“Oh, so, you’re… conducting an experiment on me?!”
“And you are my first subject.” Bopping your nose, Jumin scrunched his nose impishly. “Congratulations.”
You scrunched your nose in retaliation. “Okay, what if I decide to not be around you! How about that!”
“Then, I would be a very sad man. Is that what you want?” Leaning on you, Jumin tried to get his lower lip to wobble. Tried. “Do you want me to be a very sad man?”
“… No,” you sighed, bunching your blankets and throwing them over Jumin and yourself.
“Back to my original hypothesis of fifteen minutes,” Jumin hummed, leaning into the couch.
“Play the stupid…!” You reached over, yanking the remote from Jumin’s (stupid) hands.
Jumin’s sonorous chuckle was that much harder to ignore.
The Japanese horror anthology kept you on edge. With each episode about three to five minutes long, you and Jumin would take the time to understand what the more vague episodes meant.
And then, you started yawning.
Jumin glanced at you. “Are you tired, dear?”
“Nah, let’s keep going.” You played the next episode, scooting closer to your husband. “Maybe we can finish the first season and…” you yawned. “… haah… jump right into the third!”
“Maybe,” Jumin whispered, brushing your hair from your face and wrapping an arm around you. “Comfortable?”
“Very,” you nodded, still keeping your side of the blanket at eye level.
One episode went by. You grumpily insisted that analysis was unnecessary because the episode was fairly cut and dry.
Another episode went by. Your head felt heavier against Jumin’s shoulder; he pulled you into his lap, embracing you closely.
In the middle of the first season, you had gone totally silent. Your head lulled back as Jumin shifted; he lightly tapped your cheek. “Darling? Are you still with me?”
Your snore answered his question. Carrying you to the bed and tucking you in, Jumin chuckled. “Only you can fall asleep during Japanese horror.”
Your mouth fell open, jaw slack from the ease sleep brought. Hand moving over your jaw, Jumin kissed you, grinning against your lips.
“I was wrong… fifteen minutes was way too much time. How you managed to fall asleep in twelve minutes is baffling.” Swiping the drool coursing from your mouth, Jumin couldn’t help but laugh. “Now you see why watching a movie with you is near impossible.”
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