PRIVACY

Palestine Masterlist 

Introduction to Palestine: 

Decolonize Palestine:

Palestine 101

Rainbow washing 

Frequently asked questions 

Myths 

IMEU (Institute for Middle East Understanding):

Quick Facts - The Palestinian Nakba 

The Nakba and Palestinian Refugees 

The Gaza Strip

The Palestinian catastrophe (Al-Nakba)

Al-Nakba (documentary)

The Hundred Years’ War on Palestine: A History of Settler Colonialism and Resistance, 1917-2017 (book)

The Ethnic Cleansing of Palestine (book)

Nakba Day: What happened in Palestine in 1948? (Article)

The Nakba did not start or end in 1948 (Article)

Donations and charities: 

Al-Shabaka

Electronic Intifada 

Adalah Justice Project 

IMEU Fundraiser 

Medical Aid for Palestinians 

Palestine Children’s Relief Fund 

Addameer

Muslim Aid

Palestine Red Crescent

Gaza Mutual Aid Patreon

Books:

A New Critical Approach to the History of Palestine

The Idea of Israel: A History of Power and Knowledge

Hidden Histories: Palestine and the Eastern Mediterranean

The Balfour Declaration: Empire, the Mandate and Resistance in Palestine

Queer Palestine and the Empire of Critique

From Haven to Conquest: Readings in Zionism and the Palestine Problem until 1948

Captive Revolution - Palestinian Women’s Anti-Colonial Struggle within the Israeli Prison System

Palestine: A Four Thousand Year History

Except for Palestine: The Limits of Progressive Politics

Before Their Diaspora: A Photographic History of The Palestinians 1876-1948

The Battle for Justice in Palestine Paperback

Uncivil Rites: Palestine and the Limits of Academic Freedom

Palestine Rising: How I survived the 1948 Deir Yasin Massacre

The Transformation of Palestine: Essays on the Origin and Development of the Arab-Israeli Conflict

A Land Without a People: Israel, Transfer, and the Palestinians 1949-1996

The Iron Cage: The Story of the Palestinian Struggle for Statehood

A History of Modern Palestine: One Land, Two Peoples

Where Now for Palestine?: The Demise of the Two-State Solution

Terrorist Assemblages - Homonationalism in Queer Times

Militarization and Violence against Women in Conflict Zones in the Middle East

The one-state solution: A breakthrough for peace in the Israeli-Palestinian deadlock

The Persistence of the Palestinian Question: Essays on Zionism and the Palestinians

Fateful Triangle: The United States, Israel and the Palestinians

The False Prophets of Peace: Liberal Zionism and the Struggle for Palestine

Ten myths about Israel

Blaming the Victims: Spurious Scholarship and the Palestinian Question

Israel and its Palestinian Citizens - Ethnic Privileges in the Jewish State

Palestinians in Israel: Segregation, Discrimination and Democracy

Greater than the Sum of Our Parts: Feminism, Inter/Nationalism, and Palestine

Palestine Hijacked 

Palestinian Culture:

Mountain against the Sea: Essays on Palestinian Society and Culture

Palestinian Costume

Traditional Palestinian Costume: Origins and Evolution

Tatreez & Tea: Embroidery and Storytelling in the Palestinian Diaspora

Embroidering Identities: A Century of Palestinian Clothing (Oriental Institute Museum Publications)

The Palestinian Table (Authentic Palestinian Recipes)

Falastin: A Cookbook

Palestine on a Plate: Memories from My Mother’s Kitchen

Palestinian Social Customs and Traditions

Palestinian Culture before the Nakba

Tatreez & Tea (Website)

The Traditional Clothing of Palestine

The Palestinian thobe: A creative expression of national identity

Embroidering Identities:A Century of Palestinian Clothing

Palestine Traditional Costumes

Palestine Family 

Palestinian Costume

Encyclopedia of World Dress and Fashion, v5: Volume 5: Central and Southwest Asia

Tent Work in Palestine: A Record of Discovery and Adventure

Documentaries, Films, and Video Essays:

Jenin, Jenin

Born in Gaza

GAZA 

Wedding in Galilee 

Omar

5 Broken Cameras

OBAIDA

Indigeneity, Indigenous Liberation, and Settler Colonialism (not entirely about Palestine, but an important watch for indigenous struggles worldwide - including Palestine)

Edward Said - Reflections on Exile and Other Essays

Palestine Remix: 

AL NAKBA

Gaza Lives On

Gaza we are coming

Lost cities of Palestine 

Stories from the Intifada 

Last Shepherds of the Valley

Voices from Gaza

Muhammad Smiry

Najla Shawa

Nour Naim

Wael Al dahdouh

Motaz Azaiza

Ghassan Abu Sitta

Refaat Alareer (murdered by Israel - 12/7/2023. Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji'un)

Plestia Alaqad

Bisan Owda

Ebrahem Ateef

Mohammed Zaanoun

Doaa Mohammad

Hind Khoudary

Palestinian Voices, Organizations, and News 

Boycott Divest and Sanction (BDS)

Defense for Children in Palestine

Palestine Legal 

Palestine Action

Palestine Action US

United Nations relief and works for Palestinian refugees in the Middle East (UNRWA)

National Students for Justice in Palestine (SJP)

Times of Gaza

Middle East Eye

Middle East Monitor

Mohammed El-Kurd

Muna El-Kurd 

Electronic Intifada 

Dr. Yara Hawari 

Mariam Barghouti

Omar Ghraieb

Steven Salaita

Noura Erakat

The Palestinian Museum N.G.

Palestine Museum US

Artists for Palestine UK 

Eye on Palestine 

🙏 please im invested

🎮 behind the lens !

a social media streamer au | scaramouche x gender neutral reader

synopsis - you, better known as STARDUST, and BALLADEER have always been in competition for the top streamer spot on twitch, which is especially impressive since the two of you have never shown your faces. you’ve never been on good terms, constantly one-upping each other in matches and getting into petty arguments on twitter, causing your fans to also dislike each other. that’s until BALLADEER does a face reveal that breaks the internet with his good looks…which makes you realize it’s the same guy you went on a date with last night. the type of date that made you crave to see him again. the only problem was he didn’t know you were STARDUST and he was way different behind the lens than he portrayed himself online to you. should you keep your identity a secret to salvage the relationship or just let him go?

genre - enemies/rivals to lovers, streamer and youtuber au, college setting, crack, slight angst

status ongoing, chapters tba, no update schedule

warnings time stamps don’t matter, characters including y/n are portrayed as young adults, mentions of alcohol

↳ playlist

STREAM IS STARTING…

featuring…

↳ stardust and friends | balladeer and friends

ACT ONE: raiding your heart !

01. kicking my feet and giggling

02. beat my ass

03. get out of my notifications

04. id donate for nudes

05. pls be ugly

06. now wait a damn minute

07. throwing up and crying

08. do you get deja vu

09. would you love me if i was bald

10. passenger princess

11. would you bark for me

12. breaking my silence

13. caught in 4k

ACT TWO: you’re live !

14. he’s cheating on us?!

15. damage control

16. chat going crazy

17. breaking character

18. #JUNGKOOK

19. drowned cat core

bonus — heizou’s theory

20. twitch con

21. tba

22. best of both worlds

23. and there’s only one bed

24. room service

25. gatekeeping the sexy

26. show yourself!

27. hold on i’m processing

ACT THREE: cut the camera !

28. please leave a message after the tone

29. you’re so fucking stupid

30. co-op irl! that’s called hanging out

31. plot twist we’re dating

32. that should be ME!

bonus — fuck me like i’m famous 🔞

tba

STREAM HAS ENDED…

taglist- CLOSED ! don’t ask to be squeezed in, lmk if u wanna be removed or if you change your username

miscellaneous: i’m going to need to make a bunch of accounts for the cast’s fans and i suck at coming up with usernames so if you’d like me to use your username i’ll add you into the au as a fan to thirst over them and such just lmk ^-^ u can view it as urself in the au or not depending on the comment i give u, i don’t wanna make anyone uncomf so don’t think of it as urself if it does

Wanna talk about Blade. Blade with his darling who gets VEEERYYY clingy with people close to her when she's upset.

Girlie's basically early Tinkerbell, if you don't give her attention she'll die. It all started when he saw you getting clingy with Kafka, just sulking while she hugs you and pats your head like you're a child but then she has to leave for something. You sulked, until you spotted a PERFECT target, Blade.

Now you're just clinging to him like a panda to a bamboo tree. You're fussy if you don't get enough attention, don't wanna eat unless he feeds you. Overall just local tall edgy dude taking care of your dramatic, fussy self.

I actually made a post about how Blade would be a devoted yandere, one that loves you to death. Yours mostly. And would do anything for you too, not really caring about how he looks

In fact, I would even say that you being so needy and clingy is a dream come through, Blade feels like he's been blessed by the Eons. It's perfect, you are basically obsessed with him; constantly needing and wanting his attention like you would starve without it. The perfect, beautiful, toxic mix, he keeps you close to him while everyone knows you are already taken... And that blade is always with his hand on the sword.

The only thing that drives him a lil bit insane is the fact you do this. With. Everyone. When you really shouldn't!! Not that he can say anything to Kafka, I highly doubt she would care or be scared of him, but with anyone else? It's fair game. One that he intends to win at all costs.

women's thighs. you agree. reblog.

┃It’s always you

₊˚⊹♡Jing Yuan x gn reader

₊˚⊹♡‎wc: 2,357~

₊˚⊹♡warnings: suicide (reader), angst with a happy ending, death & rebirth, soulmate au type beat 

₊˚⊹♡notes: I’ve been obsessing over Blade lately but Jing Yuan remains to be the OG lmao. On a serious note: I rediscovered the song Back 2 You by Selena Gomez during a time of emotional turmoil and.. voila.  I originally wasn’t going to upload this. I was gonna scrap it or just keep it for me, for personal use, but I decided to post it after I revised it. I wrote this for personal reasons I will not delve into, but I hope this helps someone else as much as it helped me. You’re loved, and there’s always someone out there who will listen, understand, and love you. I promise. ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚

₊˚⊹♡Main Masterlist

Jing Yuan’s experienced many relationships before, ranging from platonic to romantic in nature.

Yet the end of said relationships failed to pierce his heart as deeply as his heartbreak for you.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

He still remembers that day vividly.

Your slumped figure sitting in a pool of your own blood, with a letter loosely held in your cold hands.

The rest of the scene became a blur, as his vision became clouded with tears.

a rare occurrence for a man like Jing Yuan.

He partly blamed himself, even though he knew your actions weren’t a reflection or a result of his own actions or feelings.

his heart lurched as a broken sob racked his trembling form. Still, he gently removed the beautiful parchment from your lifeless hand to scour your last words.

your written declaration of love and gratitude, for him, brought a self-deprecating smile to his lips. Your words are so powerful and moving, yet your body lay lifeless before him.

He takes a shuddering breath as his eyes slowly trail up your slumped figure. his fingers curl around your letter as his heart stops.

The sight of a dagger plunged deeply into your chest, directly into your heart, is all it takes for his soul to cry in agony.

His throat constricts, and his lungs fail to adequately exchange oxygen, yet…

He refuses to look away; he does not dare to tear his eyes away from the love of his life, even in her demise.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

Jing Yuan never hid from the public eye. Even with the tragic, countless losses his heart continued to endure, he never resided in solitude for long.

…

Your death was the first time he remained in seclusion.

He knows you belong to the Vidyadhara, a humanoid race, so your body will be repaired.

but..

Your memories of him, of the time you two spent together, will not remain.

He doesn’t even know if he’ll encounter you again in his lifetime, but the possibility is high.

So, he waits.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

After Jing Yuan’s long period of seclusion following your death, he resumed work.

On a particularly slow day Fu Xuan stopped by to see the general of the Luofu. She knew of your fate, and although she was loath to admit it she was concerned for the general.

When she saw that lazy smile on his lips, she almost chided herself for being worried.

That is, until she realized his smile didn't meet his eyes.

She entertained small talk with the general as contemplated how to broach her concerns with the grief-stricken general. As the conversation slowly trailed off, she steeled herself. 

The Master Diviner braced herself for backlash as she gave the general unsolicited advice… albeit from the goodness of her heart; the general is a sloth at times, much to her annoyance, but she truly did wish him well. 

So, with that in mind, she cautioned him that if he were to meet your reincarnation he should not engage and move on.

Even as his lazy smile morphed into a deep rooted frown, she continued on. She informed him that there’s no guarantee your fate will differ from your past life, even if you two reunite.

Although Fu Xuan’s words struck a nerve, he knew she was coming from a good place.

After a brief farewell he watched her retreating figure. He considered her advice despite his reluctance. 

Though it pained him to admit it, her words were not ill advised. 

Maybe.. he should try to move on.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

He tried to heed Fu Xuan’s warning.. in his own way. 

He attempted another relationship, but shortly broke it off.

He deemed it a fruitless endeavor since his thoughts were filled with you as he was lying beside someone else. He’d hate to be inauthentic, so he did what was best for him and his brief companion.

It feels like millennia pass by as he moves through the motions. His duties as general serve as a welcome distraction for his desolate heart. 

Now, his droopy eyes rove over words that seemingly blur together as he reaches the end of the document. Once his signature is elegantly signed on the bottom of the document, he leans back in his seat to indulge in a brief moment of rest.

His sleep addled brain immediately thinks of you, as it usually does.

He reminisces about his very first encounter with you. 

He had made a visit to a bookstore with hopes of finding an engaging book that could be a much needed distraction from work.

Preferably, a book about cats.

He took his time to scan the vast array of books the store had to offer. His eyes lit up with unbridled joy as he found what he was looking for. 

He reached for the book, but before he could grasp it someone bumped into him from behind. When he turned around, there you were.

Your eyes were glazed over. It was obvious you were daydreaming about something and your mind was elsewhere. It took a few moments, but your eyes came into focus. 

As your anxious orbs stared into his eyes, he winked at you.  

He laughed at your flustered reaction; you began to apologize profusely as you tried to look anywhere but at him.

He didn’t know it at the time, but he would grow fond of your clumsy actions. 

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

Subconsciously, a smile forms on his lips as he remembers the adorable smile you graced him with when he dismissed your apologies. 

In contrast to his smile, a pained sigh leaves his lips. He’s struggling to recall the name of the bookstore.

After you died he avoided going anywhere near that bookstore. He physically couldn’t handle walking down that path, that same path you used to always accompany him on.

To those close to him, it was fairly obvious that your death impacted him greatly. Unfortunately they could only do so much to alleviate their general’s heartache.

Jing Yuan hated Yanqing’s blatant concern when he purposely took the long way back to his office. Even so, Jing Yuan continued to avoid the route all together, for many years. 

He evades it to this day.

He forces his heavy eyes to open, staring at nothing as he tries to snuff his beautiful memories of you.

…

….

He slowly puts the signed document down with a despondent groan. 

It’s no use.

For some reason, he can’t stop thinking about that bookstore.

…it feels like he’s forgetting something important.

His mind reels as he desperately tries to recall the name of the bookstore. His eyebrows crease in concentration once the name of the bookstore is on the tip of his tongue. 

Come on Jing Yuan, it shouldn’t take you this long to- 

Ah, he remembers now.

Jing Yuan looks down at the paper as he mindlessly fiddles with it. He doesn’t know why, but he feels compelled to visit the bookstore once more after so many years. However, with every fiber of his being, he tries to quell the urge. His finger taps against his knee as his leg bounces. 

He detests how easily he wants to give in. 

He’s avoided the store for years, so why does he-

…

Wait. 

He shoots up from his seat.

He’s quick to scan the document he signed until he finds the date. Once his eyes land on their target, he feels the air leave his lungs like someone punched him. 

Ah.

It’s the day you…

He takes a sharp intake of breath. His knee resumes bouncing as his heart pounds against his chest.

He moves abruptly, heading for the door. 

Some papers flutter off his desk due to his erratic movements. He pays no mind to the wayward documents as he swiftly leaves his office.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

Jing Yuan finds himself walking down a road he hasn’t set eyes on in years. The esteemed man admires laughing children and busy salespeople as he walks down the familiar path.

It feels like a weight is lifted from his chest as he continues to walk. A tentative smile reaches his lips as he draws closer to the bookstore.

His heart threatens to burst from his chest as the sign comes into view so he stops walking to take a deep breath. 

He closes his eyes and centers himself. 

He focuses on the sounds of life around him; His trained ears pick up the sound of laughter, of footsteps that rush past him, of a baby babbling… 

Once he’s composed himself he completes his journey to the bookstore.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

Honestly, he’s fond of this bookstore. It is where he first met you after all.

He leisurely peruses the books in stock as he smiles at the seller. They gaze at him curiously with a tentative smile in silent reply. They’re obviously surprised that the General of the Cloud Knights is here to pay a visit to their bookstore. 

He scans the selection one more time. When he doesn’t find anything of interest, he says his farewell to the shop owner. 

He did what he came here to do. He’s proud of himself for walking down this route after so much time has passed. He feels the best he ever has in years.

This was a healing experience for him. 

He turns around, ready to return to the many documents that await his approval and revision. He unwittingly bumps into someone during his haste, and blood rushes to his cheeks as he quickly apologizes.

The person stumbles backwards, but he’s quick to reach out and steady them. His eyes quickly scan the figure as he opens his mouth to apologize once again, and..

Oh.

Oh my.

The words die in his throat.

His heart leaps out of his chest and into the hands of the beautiful person in front of him.

You.

 He knows it’s you; your pretty features are permanently engraved in his memory.

Your expression is one of surprise, yet a subconscious smile, reminiscent of a past life, graces your beautiful lips.

His mouth parts in shock as his skin runs cold. He releases you to subtly wipe his clammy hands on his pants.

He regrets letting go of you immediately.

Your head tilts as you stare at him, and an ethereal smile presents itself on your lips.

The same lips he dreams about every night. 

The same lips he achingly yearns to kiss once more. 

He instinctively tilts his body in your direction. 

“General!? It’s a pleasure to meet you! Am I in your way? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

His Adam's Apple bops as he tunes out the rest of your words. His eyes remain zeroed in on your lips. They only look up when your lips stop moving. 

Golden eyes blatantly admire the sparkle of amusement in your gorgeous orbs.

He longs to pull you into his arms; he’s missed you so much. He was uncertain if he’d ever meet you again, and he didn’t know he’d do if he did.

He hopes you aren’t facing the same struggles you previously were. If you are, he won't hesitate to do everything in his power, and more, to prevent the same outcome from occurring. 

“I.. I missed-“ 

His voice… it’s..

Strained. 

Hoarse. 

In desperate need of water.

He coughs into his fist as an embarrassed blush graces his cheeks. In his urgency to reconnect with you, he forgot that you won’t remember him. You don’t know him since you’ve clearly molted, and everyone knows the memories of the Vidyadhara unfortunately don’t carry over.

But oh he hopes you’ll spend this lifetime you have with him.

All of it.

So he settles for an elated smile. His heart flounders in your hands when you visibly become flustered; you look down as a shy smile manifests itself on your divine lips.

He falls in love with you all over again. 

Oh, how he loves you.

“Don’t worry that pretty head of yours over it, I’d hate to see a frown mar those ravishing lips. The fault lies with me. ..As a way for me to amend my mistake, why don’t you accompany me on a walk?” His velvety voice makes you swoon, and you fail to hide how giddy you feel. 

With a knowing smirk he offers his arm to you, but you hesitate to accept his offer. 

“Are you sure, General? I may not own anything of interest, but I’m sure I can-“ “Oh, but you do. Please, indulge me.” His eyes bore into yours, and you see a glint of… something.. within them. You aren’t sure what it is.

Although his words leave you confused, you oblige. Your arm wraps itself snugly in his and your body moves closer to his own. 

His eyes water with unshed tears as he fails to mask his euphoria. His wobbly smile is the last thing you see before he hides his face from your view.

You remain none the wiser to the tear that managed to escape.

As you both walk up the road he’s avoided for years, his gaze trails back to you once more. He chuckles at the flagrant jubilation on your enchanting face. You were always bad at masking your emotions around him.

He initiates a conversation with you, and it isn’t long before he’s blessed with your melodious laugh.

He hopes that he’ll be able to revive the object of interest that you own.

His heart.

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝

As the years go by you grow close to Jing Yuan once more. You successfully revive his previously shattered heart, and you make him the happiest man in the universe when you agree to marry him. You remain by each other’s side for eternity, and in this lifetime of yours he’s proud to say he was able to grow old with you.

P.S: He always reunites with you after you molt, and you two continuously fall in love with each other in every life that you have.

There’s no one else he’d rather spend his immortality with than you.  

Not trying to be negative here…but I think it's important. CN Discussion has been rumored recently that mihoyo has decided internally to return to their heart and create more female characters than male characters. And when I look back at the official actions of genshin and hsr, these seem to support this statement:

(1) HSR: There is only 1 male character among the 5 upcoming characters.

(2) Genshin: After many versions, the Neuvillette bug has been fixed. Only 2 male characters appear in the new Natlan trailer.

And Jiaoqiu is wearing NPC clothes. No one knows yet what his role in the plot will be, but it's really perfunctory and unfair.

The plot clearly promotes Firefly's "girlfriend" setting, with other characters teasing and pushing MC and Firefly to be together without focusing on describing her personal charm. She is a character attached to a romantic relationship setting. And we can’t choose not to be together. This problem has already appeared in Ruan Mei's plot. We are automatically programmed to be friendly to Ruan Mei even though she drugged us from the start. This shortcoming is intensified in Firefly's plot.

There are too many limitations in Mihoyo's games. I pulled Huohuo, Sparkle, Robin, Jade. Robin and Jade are characters that I admire, especially Jade, but the first two are just to support the male characters I like. Acheron is completely beyond ordinary power. Important, irreplaceable, needed! Most of them are female characters. The fact that there is no male Harmony character to this day proves this. Players who like male characters must get female characters, but players who like female characters can all use female characters to team up.

We spent money and effort on HSR and Genshin, but now using the money of players who like male characters to marginalize us? Very disappointing.

Dating Demon Lord Vox Akuma VS Streamer Vox Akuma

Demon lord!Vox Akuma takes you on long dates around his city, keeping his hand on the small of your back the entire time. The walk often takes the entire day, which is fine, he already worked extra hard the day before to make sure his day with you is without interruption. As the sun sets he sits with you on the balcony of his castle, with one arm wrapped around you and your head leaning against his shoulder, looking forward to the future you'll build together.

Streamer!Vox Akuma secretly keeps you in his lap while he plays games with his fellow streamers. You try not to laugh at all the jokes he makes but sometimes you need to move to the other room and laugh your lungs out. When he mutes the stream to take a bathroom break he always gives you a kiss in passing. When he does a handcam stream he will be teasing with his hand movements not just for the audience but also to tease you, more you then his chat.

Demon lord!Vox Akuma pulls you onto his cock to keep his cum inside you for as long as possible. Your pussy flutters around him, sensitive and thoroughly fucked and filled to the brim with his seed. Every time he finishes inside of you his fangs seem to elongate for a brief moment, hunger and lust written all over his face at the idea of you getting pregnant tonight. He's been careful not to father any kids in his long lifetime but now that he's settled down that might change.

Streamer!Vox Akuma appreciates that you suck him off after a long, and sometimes stressful streaming session. He can stream for hours and hours at a time, the tension in him mounting and needing an outlet. Would never do anything with you during a stream, not because he can't keep quiet but because he doesn't think you can keep yourself from moaning. Even with your mouth occupied with his cock you're still making so much noise. Better to fill it up.

Dividers by: @cafekitsune

translation

Aventurine doesn't like being understood, but he does like understanding other people. It is essential for manipulation, for scheming, for control. And he likes controlling you especially—for keeping you close but your heart a comfortable distance away, for opening your legs when he wants the pleasure of your body, for playing your emotions however he needs. And the day will come when that skill will be invaluable—the day when he must die without shattering you. (Or: You are the only person in the universe who understands Aventurine in his mother tongue. He often regrets teaching it to you.)

5k words. gender neutral reader, established relationship, angst, non-graphic sex (reader bottoms, anatomy neutral), themes of cultural loss, references to slavery, aventurine’s canonically implied desire to die. MDNI.

Aventurine cannot lie in Avgin.

Deception does not come easily to him in his mother tongue. His command of it is too weak—and too kind. The universe was a different place in the days when his life was coloured by the warble of Avgin dialect. It felt simpler, partly because he was a child and partly because Sigonia was yet untouched by outsiders. There were no corporations, no casinos, no commodity codes. His entire world was sand, desert, mother, sister, father (or more often—ghost), goddess, tent, wagon, luck, sin, rain, blessing, Avgin.

Katican.

Aventurine is sure that he knew more than just those words. He was fluent as a child. He had conversations with his sister that were complex enough to make his heart hurt, though perhaps his heart was just constantly aching anyway. But the rest of his early words escapes him. He could maybe dredge them up if he thinks long enough, but he also isn't sure if his tongue and lips could form the shape of them anymore. Sometimes he still counts in Avgin, memorises phone numbers in it, but he doesn’t remember the last time he actually strung together a full sentence in the language.

When Aventurine was first stolen into slavery (a word that he had not known as a child, and still doesn't know in Avgin), he wasn’t given a Synesthesia Beacon. He had to rely on his ears and his wits, deciphering the harsh edges of the Katican dialect and then the strange garble of Interastral Standard Language. By the time he had a Beacon installed, it was already translating all speech into Standard—his dominant language.

Sometimes he feels a little aggrieved by it, but at least it wasn't Katican. He'd have blown out his brains if it were.

But it is easy to console himself: Avgin is not a useful language anyway. Dead languages have no value, and the Avgin dialect was killed along with its people. You can’t perform commerce in a dead language, can't negotiate contracts, can't enter a gambling den and use your silver tongue to rob people blind. You can't use a dead language to fell governments and extract resources; you can't use a dead language to bring an entire planet to its knees. You can’t use a dead language to gamble your life; you can't use it to save yourself from the gallows.

You cannot deceive people in a language that is defined by sand, sister, goddess, ghost.

Aventurine cannot lie in Avgin. His command of it is too weak, and there is no one left to which he can lie, anyway.

When you ask Aventurine to teach you his first language, he gives you an amused look.

“Why Avgin?” he asks. “No one speaks it anymore. I can teach you Common Sigonian if you’d like. Or we could learn Xianzhounese together. Maybe Intellitron code? I know a little.”

“You speak Avgin,” you argue.

“Not often,” he says. “And badly when I do.”

“But it's still your language. And I want to understand you.”

Aventurine has to stop himself from laughing. Understand him? He hates being understood. When people understand him, it makes him predictable. And unlikeable. Hardly a position from which he can manipulate people in.

You understand him well enough to know that.

“You'll have to give me a better reason than that,” he says neatly. “Make it worth my while. Reward me.”

You look at him as you ponder, your eyes lingering on his. Perhaps trying to read him, though he prefers to think you're just enjoying the sight of them.

“I’ll teach you my language as well?”

“You mean—you'll reward my hard labour with more work?” he says, lighthearted.

You frown at him despite the joke. “You don't want to understand me better than what a Synesthesia Beacon would allow?” He blinks, pausing. “It’ll be convenient too. We can talk shit about other people in public and no one will understand us.”

Aventurine considers you. He doesn't like being understood, but he does like understanding other people. It is essential for manipulation, for scheming, for control. And he likes controlling you especially—for keeping you close but your heart a comfortable distance away, for opening your legs when he wants the pleasure of your body, for playing your emotions however he needs. And the day will come when that skill will be invaluable—the day when he must die without shattering you.

He also likes the idea of talking shit in public.

“I'm listening,” he says, voice lilting. You lean in, smiling. Sweet. It makes his heart feel something he isn't used to. Something addictive. Something disgusting. He scrambles to cover it with one of the usual tools: humour or distraction or maybe just plain old lying—his most reliable weapon.

“I'll throw in a kiss?” you try.

He hums. “Just one?”

“One per day.”

“Three.”

“You drive a hard bargain.”

“Well, I am a businessman.”

You snort, but he knows you're endeared. You have very noticeable tells when you’re flustered.

“Okay,” you say. “Three kisses on days you teach me.”

“Deal.”

Aventurine remembers more Avgin than he thought he would.

It comes to him slowly, painstakingly. You aren't interested in structured lessons, and he wouldn't be able to provide them anyway. He has a nonexistent grasp of grammar aside from this sounds right and that sounds strange, and Avgin dialect is both so niche and so dead that no textbooks are available. The scholars have abandoned the language as much as the politicians abandoned its people. Aventurine only has you, his fragmented memory, and whatever questions come to mind as you live out your days with him.

Mostly, you ask him about basic vocabulary. Sometimes you ask him to repeat sentences from your conversations in Avgin, like he’s some kind of multilingual parrot. Each prompt forces him to wade through the fog in his mind, the one that’s been shrouding his childhood memories until now. He's startled at how naturally the old words roll off his tongue: One, two, three, four. Good morning. Good evening. Good night. Sweet dreams. Five, six, seven, eight. You're lying to me. Why do you always lie to me? I don't know what you're talking about. Nine, ten, eleven, twelve. Welcome home. Have you eaten? Have some bread. I made you stew. Twenty, thirty, forty, fifty. That was dangerous. I thought you wouldn't make it back to me. Sometimes I think you want to die. One hundred, one thousand, one million, one billion. I'm sorry. Come here. Let me kiss you. Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry.

When you say, How do I ask you to let me hold you, he answers easily. He'd heard the words so often as a child: Let me hold you, Kakavasha. Let Mama hold you. His mouth forms the sounds without conscious thought.

He regrets it almost immediately.

When Aventurine hears it from you—stilted, halting, but no less gentle—he stops breathing. Let me hold you. You say it all the time in Standard, but it feels different in Avgin. More painful. A strange sense of panic closes in on him when he's wrapped up in you, thinking in Avgin, thinking sand, sister, goddess, ghost. He holds you tightly, like the rags cut from his father’s shirt, or his mother’s locket won back from the shell-slashers, or a bag of poker chips beneath a card table, clutched within his trembling grip.

“Aventurine, is something wrong?” you ask in Avgin, and he replies in Standard with his usual smile.

“Hm? No. What could be wrong if I have you here?”

Lying is one of his greatest tools. Sex is another one. So he says, “I think I'd like my reward now,” and he runs his lips along your jaw, your pulse, the spot over your heart (there's a word for that in Avgin but not Standard, he tells you), until you're laughing. I thought you wanted three kisses, you tease, and he replies, Who said I wanted to kiss you on the mouth?

But he coaxes open your thighs, and once he's inside you, he collects his payment properly. He kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you—and you swallow his lies whole.

There are some things that Aventurine doesn't teach you. Mostly, they’re things that he can’t teach you.

There are countless gaps in his Avgin. His speech is painfully childish—probably more childish than it was when he actually stopped speaking it. He doesn't know how to swear (something that disappoints you) and he doesn't know how to flirt (something that devastates you). He doesn’t know any words that would be useful for work either: commercialization, governance, stakes, winnings, profit. When you ask him what his job title is in Avgin (“Was senior management even a thing in Avgin society?”), he laughs and gives you the word for gambler.

Then there are the words that he remembers—has remembered his whole life—but never says. Not to you, and not to himself. He doesn't teach you any prayers. He doesn't teach you any blessings. He doesn't teach you about Mama Fenge, or the Kakava Festival, or how the rain fell when he was born. When you ask him, What holidays did you celebrate when you were little? he shrugs and says, We didn't have any. Sigonia’s too bleak to do any partying.

Then you ask him one day, while your bodies are spent in the afterglow of sex, sticky with sweat and sweetness, how to say I love you. And he goes quiet.

Love is a cheap word in Interastral Standard. In the language of globalisation and trade, love has been commercialised, commodified, capitalised for power. You say it to him in many contexts: I love this, I love that, I love you. He hardly ever reacts, and he's never said it back. It would feel unnecessary and also cruel if he did: Aventurine has only ever said the words himself as either a joke or a manipulation.

But love feels different in Avgin than in Interastral Standard, doesn't sound like a thing that can be traded or bought. Kakavasha only ever said the word love to his mother, to his sister, to his father's grave. Love in his mother tongue feels priceless.

When Aventurine thinks about you saying it—I love you, Kakavasha, in clumsy, earnest Avgin—something so painful swells in his throat that he can hardly breathe.

“There is no word for love in my language,” he tells you.

You blink. “Okay, then what's an idiom for it?”

“There is none. There’s no word or phrase expressing love.”

You raise a brow. “That’s hard to believe.”

“Is it?” He smiles. “There’s no Avgin in the known universe who cares about love. Only scheming, thieving, and treachery—and you can't do those things when love is involved.”

You look at him in alarm. “Why are you saying that?” You're practically squirming in your discomfort. “I don't know why you think I'd believe such a racist stereotype.”

“It’s not a stereotype,” he says. “I'm not talking about the Avgin culture. I'm talking about myself.”

After all, he is the only Avgin left.

It is an unfair thing to say. A cruel thing to say. After all the laughing and kissing and crying and fucking, after all the tender eyes and gentle words from you—it is probably the worst pain imaginable: I don't give a shit about you. He waits for you to cry.

But you only stare at him calmly, studying him. You brush the hair out of his eyes, seeing them clearly.

“If you lie to me all the time,” you say in Avgin, “eventually I'll stop believing anything you say.”

Aventurine is speechless. His heart does that addictive, disgusting thing again. He thinks about leaving, but then you say, Let me hold you, and he can't do anything other than obey.

Avgin dialect was once included in the Synesthesia Beacon list of functions. The Intelligentsia Guild added it before the Second Katica-Avgin Extinction Event, when the IPC was trying to get a political foothold on Sigonia via the Avgin people. The language was alive then, with enough value to be included into the Synesthesia LLM by the linguists.

But since the Extinction Event—since Kakavasha ran away from home—the Synesthesia data on Avgin has been stagnant, a fossil. Aventurine knows because he's subscribed to software updates for certain languages (Avgin Sigonian, Common Sigonian, Interastral Standard, and now your mother tongue). He gets pinged every time there's a new addition for slang, for neologisms—but there hasn't been a ping for the Avgin dialect since he had the Beacon installed. The live translation function hasn't even been available since the previous Amber Era. When he checks its page on his Synesthesia app, it's very clear why—

SIGONIAN, AVGIN DIALECT SPEAKERS: 0 STATUS: Extinct END OF SERVICE: 2156 AE

The complete death of the language has led to an irritating dilemma for you and Aventurine. You keep running into words that he doesn't know—this time not because of his childlike speech, but because they never existed in his language to begin with. Ocean, tropical, rainforest. Starskiff, accelerator, space fleet. Stock market, shortselling, mutual funds. Black hole, event horizon, spaghettification. All things that never came up for Kakavasha, but now come up for Aventurine, and the language has not evolved to include it.

He always wants to switch to Standard to discuss these things, but you're insistent on speaking in Avgin as much as possible. He doesn't know why, but he doesn't mind humouring you—partly because he likes to indulge you, and partly because he’s grown used to hearing the honeyed timbre of Avgin dialect in your household. The place would feel strange without it.

So you start filling the gaps with other languages, filtering them through the lyricism of Avgin. Loanwords, he thinks they’re called. You take ocean, tropical, rainforest from Amazian; starskiff, accelerator, space fleet from Xianzhounese; stock market, shortselling, mutual funds from Interastral Standard. For the astrophysics terms, you try directly translating them—with limited success.

“Can't I literally just say ‘black hole’?” you ask in Avgin, and he nearly spits out his coffee.

“Please don't. That's a dirty word.” He can't bring himself to say what it means, but from the way you’re laughing, you can clearly guess.

“I thought you said you didn't know how to swear.”

“You've just reminded me how.”

“You're welcome.” You look on the verge of cackling. Aventurine finishes his coffee and wonders when you're going to surprise him with your newfound vulgarity.

“Let's just do the space terms based on Standard,” he says. Begs.

“No, that's so boring.”

“Then let's do your language.”

You open your mouth. Close it. Give him a blank look.

“You don't know how to say those words in your mother tongue either, do you,” he intuits.

“Well, ‘spaghettification’ doesn't really come up in everyday conversation, does it?”

“Then maybe we don't need it.” He smiles, senses an opportunity. Smells blood. “How about ‘love’? I'd much rather know how you say that. I bet it sounds beautiful.”

You give him a long look. Your eyes are vulnerable when you share it: Love. I love you. He’s fascinated by the sound of it. Your voice is never that fragile when you say it in Standard. It's never so earnest. He repeats it, staring at you, and your gaze falls to the ground. His mouth curls.

“I like it,” he says. “Let's use that. It'll sound nice in Avgin.”

You try to recover. “Sure. That works. But back to ‘black hole’—”

And the two of you continue like that for days, weeks, months. It feels like a complete bastardization of his mother tongue on some days, in some conversations. Almost unrecognisable. But it doesn't feel bad. It’s all he has, it's all you have, and when he walks into your home, he starts speaking it without thinking: your bastard, patchwork language. The Avgin dialect that exists only in your house. A tongue that can only be understood by a liar.

And then, one lazy Sunday morning, he gets a familiar ping. He expects it to be Interastral Standard, as usual. The language balloons with each planet that the IPC colonises.

But instead, he opens his screen and freezes.

SIGONIAN, AVGIN DIALECT SPEAKERS: 2 STATUS: Endangered. SERVICE RESUMED: 2157 AE NEW UPDATES: 103 loanwords and 5 neologisms added.

He can't stop looking at the status. Endangered. Endangered, which means dying, but alive. The Avgin dialect is alive again. The Intelligentsia Guild determined it, so it must be true. But Aventurine can't agree: there are no Avgin speakers in the known universe other than the two of you, and what you speak isn't real Avgin. The Avgin spoken by his mother and father and sister is dead; the Avgin spoken by Kakavasha is dead. The festivals are gone; the deserts have been terraformed. There are no wagons; there are no dances; there are no prayers. There are no blessings, and he has no home—

As long as you are alive, the blood of the Avgin will never run dry.

His throat locks up.

“Aventurine?” you ask. Your voice is drowsy, but concerned. “Is something wrong?”

He looks at you from his phone, a polished smile on his face.

“No.” His syllables are plain and efficient in the noise of Interastral Standard: “Just looking at details for a new assignment. It’ll be a long one.”

“Oh.” You frown. “Will you be away from home for a long time, then?”

He stops himself from swallowing. “Yes, I'll be away from the house. For several months, probably.”

“Okay.” Your voice is small. “Take care of yourself, okay? I'll miss you.”

Each word you speak resonates with heartbreak. It always does in these conversations, even in Standard—but the sorrow is amplified in Avgin. His mother tongue has an inherently sad quality to it, he's noticed. His people have lost so much over their history—their language is one of loss. It's his language of loss. Kakavasha did all his grieving in Avgin; Aventurine has never felt sorrow in Standard. When the language died, so did Kakavasha—and all his regrets with it.

“You'll come home to me, right?” you ask. It's a beautiful sentence in Avgin. A heartrending one. He feels something that he hasn't known since he was a child.

It's a feeling he has to kill.

“Yes,” he says in Standard. “Of course I'll come back.”

This is not the first time that Aventurine has been mistaken for dead, but this is the longest time.

The latest world to join the IPC network was a tough acquisition. It had been ruled by a despot who wreaked havoc on both the people and the planet, and who was too stupid and reckless to resolve conflicts with his trade partners. He probably would have blown up the whole star system had he been left to his own devices. Aventurine had no qualms about bringing him to ruin, nor did he have qualms about nearly dying in the process.

If things had gone his way, he'd either be dead or missing. This would have been the perfect opportunity to do the latter, actually—to be freed from the IPC. Free to drift alone, speaking with strangers in strange, unfamiliar tongues. No connection to his past, to the cruel history of his luck, to his commodity code. No tether to his inherently unjust destiny. But instead he's back in your house, pockets heavy with his borrowed wealth, speaking to you in his bastardised, childish Avgin. I'm sorry. Come here. Let me kiss you. Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry.

Your Avgin is—shockingly fluent. He doesn't know how. He can't think about it right now. All he can process is the wounded animal noise of your speech as you yell at him, as you cry. Like an injured songbird, or a weeping child. Why did you leave, why did you lie, why do you always lie to me, why don't you give a shit about me, you spit. Why do you want to die, why do you want to die, why do you want to die, you keep saying. Sand, sister, goddess, ghost, he keeps hearing. Sand, sister, goddess, ghost. Don't leave me, big sister. People will die. Why do you have to go?

“I’m sorry,” he tries again, this time in your language. “I'm so sorry. Come here. Let me hold you.”

You collapse into your mother tongue. Aventurine is both relieved and horrified. Relieved that he doesn't need to hear the language of his grief—horrified that he needs to hear yours. He's never heard you cry like this. He's never heard you break like this. These must have been the words you used when the soldiers found you hiding in your closet, when they dragged you out of your home. You were just a child.

Aventurine doesn't know the words you are using—you've never taught them—but he still understands them.

You're very malleable when you’re sad; even more so when you're hysterical. Aventurine understands this about you, and he understands how to calm you—this time in your native tongue—and he understands how to kiss you. He understands that you need to feel close to him. He understands that there are ways to accomplish this other than sex. A normal person would talk it out, have an honest conversation, come to a mutual understanding, and maybe even stop trying to kill himself. They wouldn't fuck you into the mattress while your face is still wet with tears.

But Aventurine is not a normal person. He doesn't know how to have an honest conversation, and he doesn't want to be understood. Lying is his greatest weapon, and sex is a close second. So he kisses you until you’re too breathless to cry, fucks you until you can't think, and makes you come so hard that you’re in too much bliss to grieve. And maybe it's horrible of him, but he enjoys it. He enjoys the way your body takes him in so easily, the way your nails dig into his back, the way you tighten around him when you climax, so wet and needy for him. The way you beg for him in your language for liars as he spends himself inside you: I love you, Aventurine, I love you, I love you, I love you—

Only because it feels good. This is all only because he enjoys fucking you. This is all only because you enjoy fucking him. This is all it'll ever be, and it'll be this way until he gets to meet his end.

(Some months ago, Aventurine started dreaming in Avgin.

It surprised him when he first noticed it. The last time he remembers having a dream in his native tongue, he was twelve years old and still in chains. And even then, it had become a sporadic, strange thing. Awful to wake up from. One minute he was with his mother and sister on a cool, rainy day, speaking fluently in Avgin as he laughed and played—and the next minute, he was being shaken awake in his cage, hearing the cruel lash of Katican.

But ever since he's started speaking Avgin with you, he's been dreaming in it. Vividly. Sometimes he's a child in these dreams, and sometimes he's grown. He's always back in the Sigonian desert, among the tents and the campfires and his family wagons. His mother and sister are alive. Sometimes his father is too. The skies roar with thunder and the stellar winds are always harsh, but they always keep him cocooned up in their arms. He's always warm.

Sometimes Aventurine dreams of nicer days. Clear skies, warm sun, cool breeze—all blessings from the Mother Goddess. On these days, he tends to be an adult, and you tend to be there with him. Your Avgin is fluent but strange, filled with funny loanwords and peculiar slang. His father likes the neologisms and starts using them—but only in wrong ways. His sister finds it embarrassing and keeps apologising to you.

His mother loves you. She loves you so much it hurts. This is how I know you're blessed, Kakavasha, she says, glowing. You’re so lucky to have found such a kind person.

Kakavasha knows this. He knows he's lucky, and in his dreams, that isn't a bad thing. In his dreams, his luck means that his home is not violently excised from his heart: his father never dies; his mother never dies; his sister never dies. The tents are not burned; the wagons are not destroyed. He is never forced to forget his people's dishes, their songs, their language, their joy. And in his dreams, his luck means that he meets you anyway, without all the loss and the chains and the lying.

In his dreams, he is able to bring you to the desert. He is able to teach you the Avgin he spoke as a child, to cook all the meals his mother used to make, to share with you their coffee and their tea. He teaches you prayers. He teaches you blessings. He tells you about Mama Fenge, about how the rain fell when he was born. He takes you to the Kakava Festival, shows you how to dance, sings to you all the Avgin songs until you're singing back. He presses his palm to yours in prayer; he kisses you in devotion, not avoidance.

Sometimes the two of you still fight, the same fights that you have in real life, but he handles them with honesty. He listens to you. He apologises to you. He tells you that he’ll change, and he means it—because this world is a kind one, and he has no need to be so cruel to you.

In this kind world, when you lay in bed with his arms tight around you, you smile at him and say, I love you, Kakavasha. You say it in Avgin—real Avgin, not the dialect born from genocide and deceit—and when he responds, there's not even a little bit of insincerity in his voice. Because Kakavasha never became Aventurine in these dreams, so he has no Interastral Standard in which he can lie to you, no silver tongue with which he can manipulate you, no commodity code that inspires his fear of being controlled by you. Kakavasha only knows Avgin, and he only has his sand, his family, his goddess, his home.

And he has you. Finally, he has you.

He kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you—and then he tells you the truth.)

.

.

.

Aventurine cannot lie in Avgin.

You noticed this very early on: whenever he lies to you, he always switches to Interastral Standard. Probably he wouldn't be able to do it in his mother tongue. His command of it is too weak, and the words he knows are all too kind. He speaks with the innocence of a child, and children cannot deceive people in the way that adults can. Children cannot perform commerce or negotiate contracts. They cannot use a silver tongue to rob people blind. They cannot save themselves from the gallows.

So Aventurine’s Avgin is defenceless. Vulnerable. So vulnerable it hurts. You are not so vulnerable in your first language because your captors spoke it on occasion, and you learned to lie in it to gain their pity. You told Aventurine that knowing it would help him understand you, but this was a deception. Aventurine’s mother tongue was a language of trust, but yours is a dialect of abuse.

The Avgin language died before Aventurine could be gutted by it; this is why it disarms him so completely. This is why he’s so indulgent and so warm when you use it with him, why he yields to all your requests. Not requests for money or gifts—you’re certain those are meaningless to him—but for affection. Let me hold you. Let me touch you. Let me kiss you. He can never say no.

This is also why he loves hearing you speak his mother tongue, you think—it makes him feel at home, it makes him feel safe. Maybe it even makes him feel loved. He never seems so at peace speaking any other language, so you try to use Avgin as much as possible. You like seeing him happy. You like it even if it means you need to teach him your own native language in exchange, even when it means you need to hear him say all the things your captors used to say. You don't mind it if it's him. You never mind the harm he inflicts on you, especially not when it brings you closer to him.

It is convenient that he cannot lie in Avgin. You only wanted to learn it in the first place because he talks in his sleep—mostly in Standard, but sometimes in his native tongue. And now that you know he cannot lie in Avgin, you also know he's always being honest in his dreams. Honest when he throws his arms around you in his sleep. Honest when he grabs you so tightly that you bruise. Honest when he buries his face into your neck and whispers prayers into your skin.

Most of the words he says are common ones, the earliest vocabulary that he taught you. But there are some things he's withheld from you—and to learn those things, you had to track down linguists from the Intelligentsia Guild, bribe them with your dirty money, have them give you all their deprecated, extinct data. It felt two-faced, and it was violating, but it was the only way. You already know that Aventurine would rather die than translate his feelings for you, would never want this part of himself understood.

I'm sorry for always leaving you.

I'm sorry for making you cry.

I can't bear the thought of losing you.

Freedom would be too lonely without you.

I don't want to hurt you anymore.

I don't want to lie to you anymore.

I missed you.

I want you.

I need you.

I love you.

end

afterword

I want to be someone’s favourite PLEASE

Please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please please

tiny robin & sunday