#and our commitment to a two state solution | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mariacallous · 5 months

Text

U.S. President Joe Biden’s approach to the Israel-Hamas war, especially his seemingly preternatural support for Israel, has been criticized across much of the U.S. political spectrum. An NBC News poll published Nov. 19 found that just 34 percent of registered voters approve of how Biden is handling the war. Many younger voters in particular are angry; and some Arab and Muslim Americans are telling pollsters they won’t vote for Biden in 2024 because of his stance.

The Democratic Party itself is deeply divided on the issue, with even some moderate Democrats urging Biden to do more to restrain Israel. And inside the administration, the president is seeing dissent from staff in the White House and State Department of a kind these two authors never witnessed during our government careers. Biden has even been accused of supporting “the genocide of the Palestinian people” by a member of his own party.

Yet given the president’s long and deep attachment to Israel, the brutality of the Oct. 7 Hamas attack, and the lack of policy alternatives in the first several weeks of the crisis, it’s doubtful that Biden could have followed another course that would have been more successful. Standing by Israel, deterring Hezbollah and Iran from escalating the conflict, and pursuing negotiations to secure the release of hostages as well as buy time and space to ameliorate—though admittedly not end—the catastrophic humanitarian situation in Gaza have proven to be the right, though hardly perfect, choices.

Still, having tethered U.S. policy to Israel’s war aims—the eradication of Hamas—Biden now finds himself in a bind. The humanitarian crisis in Gaza and the exponential rise in the deaths and suffering of Gaza’s civilian population have undermined U.S. credibility at home, in the Arab and Muslim world, and in the international community. Going forward, the success or failure of U.S. policy may well rest on whether Biden can reshape Israel’s military campaign, alleviate the humanitarian situation, and engage Israel and other partners in coming up with a workable plan for post-war Gaza.

Like most of the world, the Biden administration was stunned by the timing and severity of the Hamas attack. But the potential damage to U.S. interests was clear from the get-go. The administration had previously concluded that a major effort to resolve the Israeli-Palestinian issue given the Netanyahu government’s priorities would be futile and had shifted focus instead on negotiating an Israeli-Saudi normalization accord. The Hamas attack, along with Israel’s punishing response and the rising death toll it has caused in Gaza, put that on hold, as did the increasing danger of a new front opening along the Israel-Lebanon border.

Preventing an escalation and widening of the war that could pull in the United States was now a key priority, as was trying to limit the damage to U.S. relations with the Arab and Muslim world as Israel’s military action claimed thousands of Palestinians lives. Securing the release of the estimated 240 hostages—including at least 10 Americans—kidnapped by Hamas also moved to the top of the administration’s priorities, both for moral reasons and to create humanitarian pauses in fighting in exchange for their release. In an effort to regain some ground with the Arab states and Palestinians, the administration began to talk about the importance of not going back to the Oct. 6 status quo, the U.S. commitment to a two-state solution, and the need to create a new post-conflict reality in Gaza.

For Biden, though, backing Israel wasn’t a hard choice; it was virtually guaranteed. His Oct. 10 speech—one of the most powerful of his presidency to date—set his frame: The United States would give Israel the time, space, and support to do what it believed it needed to do against Hamas. U.S. policy began to evolve as the deaths of Palestinians and destruction in Gaza began to rise. But despite growing opposition, that frame has remained remarkably consistent.

Biden faced an Israel that had already been moving sharply to the right and was now thoroughly traumatized by Hamas’s sadistic and indiscriminate killing of Israeli civilians on Oct. 7. An Israel, in other words, primed to respond with extreme violence and disinclined to worry too much about Palestinian civilians. Indeed, like Hamas, which doesn’t regard Israeli civilians as innocent, some Israelis—especially Netanyahu’s far-right political allies—consider Gaza’s population to be complicit in Hamas’s atrocities. The fact that Hamas uses civilians as shields against attack reinforces this attitude.

The Biden administration also faced an Israel that saw this moment as an opportunity to deal decisively with threats from Lebanon and Gaza that it has been living with, if uneasily, for years. And because Hamas’s rage was unleashed on Gaza’s border communities, which contained a disproportionate number of liberal Israelis who notably detest their current government and favor a two-state solution, it unified Israeli support on the right and left for a crushing response. Moreover, because the attack was made possible by Israel’s own blunders, the government felt that it needed to restore perceptions of power and its willingness to use it. This all pointed to a no-holds-barred counteroffensive.

Biden has dealt with these obstacles as well as anyone could.

To manage the risk of escalation, Biden did two things—one privately and the other publicly. Privately, he told Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu that Israeli preemption against Hezbollah in Lebanon—a very real possibility early in the crisis—was a nonstarter. Washington would not support it, and for Israel to proceed would damage U.S. interests; not a good idea when Israel was isolated internationally. Biden then deployed two carrier strike groups—a total of 180 fighter bombers—to the Eastern Mediterranean and beefed-up U.S. military power in the Red Sea and Persian Gulf.

The message to Hezbollah and Iran was clear: Don’t start anything. Thus far, both adversaries have indicated publicly and privately that they got the message. Yes, Hezbollah-Israel exchanges have been at their heaviest since the 2006 war. But both parties have pushed but not exceeded the rules of the game. The threat of a regional war that could suck in the United States is, for the time being, in abeyance.

Through Biden’s visit to Israel, as well as U.S. Secretary of State Antony Blinken’s repeated trips and U.S. Defense Secretary Lloyd Austin’s visit, Biden made it impossible for Israel to launch its ground offensive in Gaza until the United States had at least weighed in and the Israeli fury had cooled somewhat. He bought time for Washington to influence the pace and scope of Israel’s campaign. The reason U.S. Marine Corps Lt. Gen. James Glynn, who commanded the U.S. forces that participated in the anti-Islamic State campaign in Raqqa, Syria, and Mosul, Iraq, was dispatched to Israel ahead of the planned ground offensive was to caution the Israel Defense Forces (IDF) against a scorched earth strategy and suggest ways they could meet their military objectives in Gaza without the kind of wholesale destruction the United States unleashed on Islamic State-occupied cities in Syria and Iraq.

Granted, there was no way this warning would influence the Israeli air campaign already underway in Gaza, especially in its initial phase—partly because the violence was expressive but also because Hamas had deliberately tunneled under heavily populated civilian areas, and the IDF had no good ideas about how to deal with the situation without bombing.

Biden was also successful in compelling Netanyahu to accept the need for humanitarian corridors and resume the flow of water and now fuel to Gaza. Without Biden’s intervention, it’s a safe bet that none of these Israeli concessions would have been forthcoming. Indeed, it’s unlikely the current humanitarian pause, which has allowed more aid into Gaza and significant hostage releases, would have happened without Biden’s personal effort and U.S. intervention. Israel on its own would not have gotten there until things were much worse, if ever.

Could the Biden administration have forced Israel to embrace a more permanent ceasefire, as many have urged Biden to do? What threats might it have used? A halt to U.S. military assistance would have sparked a firestorm in Washington, destroyed Biden’s demonstrated influence on Israel’s crisis response, and pushed Israel to rely on less precise weapons, leading to more civilian deaths—and all likely without changing Israel’s actions.

Imposing conditions on Israel’s use of U.S.-supplied weapons is another option being raised not just by progressive Democrats but by a few more centrist ones as well, though the latter group is so far just asking questions and requesting information rather than pressing for restrictions. Such an approach would have to involve looking at individual weapons: how they are deployed, what are legitimate military targets, and whether Israel has carefully calibrated the impact on civilians in the area. This seems almost impossible in the middle of an active warzone and in any event likely would not alter Israel’s operations.

Should the United States have withdrawn military support for Israel in other ways, such as by redeploying the carriers in the eastern Mediterranean, the U.S. destroyer in the Red Sea, and the U.S. X-band air defense radar installation in Israel’s Negev desert? Doing so would undermine the U.S. objective of deterring Hezbollah and Iran from escalating the conflict and likely trigger an Israeli preemptive war against Lebanon. Such a step would, in effect, play into Iranian hands and undermine, not strengthen, deterrence.

Recalling the U.S. Marine expeditionary force whose missions include embassy and country evacuations, hostage rescue, and other special operations would undermine U.S. readiness for any number of contingencies. Voting against Israel in the United Nations can be guaranteed not to move Israel’s needle one bit. The administration might have considered using U.S. forces to protect aid convoys entering Gaza against Israeli wishes, but this would pose risks that would truly be incalculable.

As the Israeli ground campaign now renews, so do the greatest challenges for the Biden administration’s policies. The United States cannot prevent Israel from resuming military action in northern Gaza or the more worrisome unfolding of a major military campaign to root out Hamas’s infrastructure and kill its leadership in the south. With nearly half of Gaza’s population displaced into the south and disease and lack of necessities taking their toll, a massive ground campaign in densely populated areas there would be disastrous. Indeed, when comparing pre-Oct. 7 Israel-Hamas conflicts with the appalling Palestinian death toll of the past month and a half, it’s clear that Israel is being far less discriminating this time around and has expanded its rules of engagement in attacking Hamas targets embedded in or near civilian areas.

The question is whether Biden can, through pressure and persuasion, reshape Israel’s thinking and create the requisite time and space not just for safe zones but for reliable channels to deliver humanitarian assistance. Having had Israel’s back over the past 50-plus days, the U.S. president is in a position to wield influence over what may well be the most important juncture in Israel’s war against Hamas. Still, Biden must be realistic: Stopping Israel from dealing Hamas’s military capacity a death blow was never in the cards.

The other issue is how to bring the Israelis around on the elusive question of an endgame in Gaza. Privately, the Biden administration has been hammering the Israelis to think this through, though Netanyahu has been reluctant to engage largely because of the demands of his extreme right-wing coalition partners.

Blinken has already laid out publicly a number of “nos” for post-conflict Gaza, including no reduction in territory, no forced relocation of Gazans, and no use of Gaza as a platform for launching terror attacks. We still have no idea how Israel sees the future, other than the certainty of some Israeli presence and perhaps buffer zones until some new reality that can guarantee Israel’s security could be established. But who does Israel envision governing Gaza? And what will Gaza’s relationship to the West Bank be? Biden has called for renewed negotiations for a two-state solution. Both that issue and the future of Gaza will ultimately depend on whether and how the war reshapes Israeli and Palestinian politics.

Uncertainties abound—hardly an unusual state of affairs in the middle of a major Middle East conflict. Yet despite all of the criticism and the grim death toll among Palestinians and Israelis, and given the constraints and things beyond his control, Biden has fared pretty well so far in preserving U.S. interests and preventing matters from getting worse. For a crisis with so many moving parts, that is no small achievement.

52 notes · View notes

secularprolifeconspectus · 8 months

Text

Pro-Life Rescue & Direct Action: The Importance of Invading Abortion Clinics

Non-Violent Direct Action is Proven Effective

From Ghandi’s Indian Independence Movement to the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s Civil Rights Movement, to Serbia’s student-led resistance Otpor! and more, two things are consistently linked with the success of movements: a commitment to non-violence and the necessity of risking arrest. That’s because only when people are willing to take risks and make sacrifices, can the institutional power of an oppressor be challenged and delegitimized. Seeing other people getting directly involved in a movement motivates participation. There is a science to non-violent struggle and social revolution that has been documented by political researchers such as Gene Sharpe. From privileged people interposing their bodies between Black protesters and the police who brutalize them during the Black Lives Matter movement, to tenant networks mobilizing to blockade around the homes of vulnerable neighbors at risk of eviction by their landlords, leftists have proven these tactics save lives and advance change. If we want to see success in the anti-abortion movement, then we must follow proven social science.

Rescue is Necessary to Dismantle Big Abortion

Because we will never outspend the abortion industrial complex, the only way we can win is with people power. Abortion rescue disrupts the progress of abortion violence and applies pressure to those complicit. It viscerally agitates the public to reckon with abortion's violence. It reduces violence on the fringes of the pro-life movement by providing a non-violent outlet of expression for frustrated individuals. Non-violent abortion rescue interrupts injustice against prenatal people without unjust action and disarms the abortion providers without harming them. Parents seeking abortion as a solution to an unwanted or crisis pregnancy have bought into the lies of Big Abortion, and rescue unsettles that narrative. Rescuers hope to save not only the child, but also their mothers, families, and communities. Rescue is intervention intended to free even the abortion workers from the cycle of abortion violence. During the era of the late 80’s and early 90’s, it’s estimated that 60% of mothers with appointments for abortions on the day of a rescue never rescheduled.

Rescues Challenge Unjust Laws

We can’t let the reality that the law is on the side of the oppressors dictate what we ought to do. Our goal is to change that reality, not to live with it! Opposition to rescue implicitly affirms that the choice to kill is permissible. We have no ethical obligation to follow unjust laws; in fact, we may challenge unjust laws with civil disobedience. We must use our bodies as shields to stop the main aggressors of abortion from hurting the babies because law enforcement upholds the violent status quo of the state. When a rescuer is sentenced to jail, it is an opportunity for non-rescuers to hold the entire legal system accountable each day for the murder it protects until it is as safe and legal to protect children as it is now safe and legal to kill them.

Rescuers Save Lives in Prisons

If you are pregnant and incarcerated, you are the forgotten of the forgotten. Pregnant prisoners are either pressured into abortion, mistreated into a miscarriage, or forced to suffer a dehumanizing birthing experience, and predatory adoption agencies lie in wait to take and profit from their babies. Pro-Life activists imprisoned for rescue are presented the unique opportunity to advocate for better conditions for pregnant prisoners, to defend the lives of their unborn children, to organize support for their families from the outside world, and to serve grieving post-abortive women behind bars. Even incarcerated women deserve better than abortion. Thus abortion rescuers continue to rescue even while in prison.

Rescues Affirm the Equality of the Preborn

By taking the risk to rescue, you practice solidarity with the preborn and parents who believe abortion is their only option. You have the power as a privileged born person to put your body between the powerless and their oppressors, between an abortion provider and a helpless child. How do we show the world that fetuses are the same as us when we are nothing like them? The answer is simple: we make ourselves more like them. When rescuers stand in solidarity with the preborn, they become as vulnerable as the preborn are. If we say that a woman needs to sacrifice her lifestyle, relationship, body, and future for her unborn child, then we are hypocrites if we’re not willing to do the same. When we rescue, we are willing to sacrifice the same to prison for her child, ergo rescue is solidarity with moms too. Some people will never affirm the humanity of the preborn. It’s our job to do so by being physically intolerant of abortion through rescue.

Rescue is a Direct Act of Love

The preborn deserve to have someone show up for them. An attempt to rescue a preborn child may be the only act of love they ever receive before they are murdered. They have no one else as they are taken legally to their deaths. The success of a rescue is not determined by how many babies were saved that day; it's determined by how many babies were loved. If you were facing death, wouldn’t you want someone who loves you to stand physically with you to the last possible second as well? Your presence in their moment of suffering matters. The preborn deserve to have someone witness them as full people at least once in their life.

If Abortion is Murder, then Act Like It

Do your actions reflect the reality that the preborn are people equal to ourselves? Rescue fully expresses what it means to understand that the preborn have the same humanity as us. Our sacrifice forces others to see the humanity of the preborn, because if they aren’t people, why would we risk jail and potentially worse for them? If the preborn have the right to life, then we have a responsibility to make sure their right is respected. Rescue offers a final tangible act of love to a child as they are being taken away to be exterminated. If you KNOW the preborn are people and abortion is murder, then ACT LIKE IT!

How to Support Rescue

Not every pro-life person can be an abortion rescuer. Factors like finances, family, disability, and racialized police brutality prevent many folks who support rescue from feeling confident in participating. Luckily, there are many ways the pro-life community as a whole can participate in rescue without being a rescuer!

Sponsor a rescuer financially. If you can't rescue, donate to a rescuer who will do it for you! As rescuer Herb Geraghty said, "let us be your hands and feet". Offer monetary and emotional support to the families of rescuers.

Do jail support. Demonstrate in front of police stations, courts, jails, and prisons that are holding rescuers. Write to the rescuers frequently. If you are on a legal team, offer your local rescuers pro-bono defense.

Share rescue stories on your social media in a positive light. Comment on news stories that frame rescue badly. Make videos about rescue and why you support it.

Do culture jamming around clinics frequented by rescuers. Make posters and wheatpaste them to sidewalks, sharpie pro-life messages to the backs of signs, put rescue stickers on the alley walls around the clinic.

Help organize the rescues. Do research about the clinics for the rescuers. Keep the rescuers updated about police scanners while they perform a rescue. Coordinate supplies, donations, first-aid, and legal defense. Be there with food before and after rescue.

Learn More

Quotes About Abortion Rescues Rescue and Police Violence The Rescue Movement (Documentary) The Brutal Truth Dragonslayers Defenders of the Unborn Wrath of Angels Shattering the Darkness All the Rescues Essential Roles in Social Movements Types of Abortion Rescue Historic Abortion Rescues Media Bias Against Abortion Rescue Joan Andrews

#pro life #anti abortion #bring back rescue #hide #disquisitions

85 notes · View notes

housekonig · 6 months

Text

Official Communication from Vernick Palace

VERNICK PALACE, VK-- We are pleased to announce that the Her Majesty's government, under the leadership of First Wählen** Christine Weily, has been chosen to host the esteemed R4 member-nations during the forthcoming 4-day R4 Cconference.

The R4 summit, is a distinguished regional symposium, created to cultivate both pragmatic and economical solutions to shared affairs and mutual opportunities. The participants of the event represent a diverse assembly of heads of state, leaders, ministers, and policy-makers. The R4's member-nations stand as a decisive voice in matters of inter-regional, international, and global significance, controlling over an estimated third of the regional economy.

(Her Majesty poses with the First Whäler and Primar Council, the most Senior members of Her government, in Chandler's Keep's Great Hall.)

The member-nations gracing the event include:

The Kingdom of Vernick (@housekonig)

United States of Simerica (NPC Nation Version)

The Kingdom of SimDonia (@bridgeportbritt)

The Empire of Pierreland (@officalroyalsofpierreland)

The Trentallia Union (@trentonsimblr)

The Kingdom of Uspana (@nexility-sims)

The Ionian Union (@funkyllama)

Empire of Francesim (@empiredesimparte)

The Kingdom of Illyria (@the-lancasters)

The conference is set to start in two weeks.

We assure all nations of our steadfast commitment to foster meaningful dialogue and cooperation during this remarkable summit.

First Wählen - The conference and conversations with @hormelfoods encouraged me to rethink my world, so the President/Elected Minister has been changed to the First Wählen, a rough google translation. In the setting of my story, it simply means "the elected one".

Primar Council - The Primar Council are the core member's of the First Wäheln's cabinet and are constitutionally required to be filled before Her Majesty grant the Wäheln permission to form a government in Her name. Rough google translation of primary council.

#housekonig #ts4 royal #ts4 royalty #ts4 royal legacy #ts4 royal family #konig.story #the sims 4 monarchy #the sims 4 royal family #R4conferece #imissthisstyleofroyalsimblr

48 notes · View notes

fatehbaz · 1 year

Text

Presently, [...] [a] scholar doing [...] expansive work on the relationship between disability and incarceration is Liat Ben-Moshe. Ben-Moshe has produced two books on the subject within the past ten years: Disability Incarcerated: Imprisonment and Disability in the United States and Canada (2014), and Decarcerating Disability: Deinstitutionalization and Prison Abolition (2020).

Disability Incarcerated is an edited collection that surveys the various iterations and sites of historical carcerality vis-à-vis disabled people: asylums, mental hospitals, state institutions, migrant detention centers, prisons, nursing homes, segregated schools and workshops. It is an accessible overview [...]. Decarcerating Disability, in contrast, is singularly authored by Ben-Moshe; it is an interesting attempt at utilizing the experience of disability incarceration and decarceration [...] in order to impart lessons and considerations of relevance to the present-day abolition movement.

---

Ben-Moshe’s Decarcerating Disability is unique in its explicit positioning within the framework of prison studies and the abolitionist movement; it is, in fact, a polemical intervention into living debates. [...] Ben-Moshe also writes about the importance of centering “fugitive/maroon abolitionist knowledges” in advancing critical analyses of carcerality. [...]

[S]ubjugated knowledges are “blocks of historical knowledges” that have been subsumed by “formal systematization”; that is, “ways of knowing” that have been dismissed, disqualified, or shunned by the hegemonic arbiters of reason. In this schema, power “is not a centralized external force controlled by a limited few,” writes Ben-Moshe, “but is inside us, making us operate in particular ways, often by benevolent means, that is, ‘for our own good,’ such as is the case with diets, psychotherapy, [...] and rehabilitation, to name a few examples.” [...]

Foregoing criticisms notwithstanding, Decarcerating Disability is a useful and welcome text insofar as it actively engages with the process of “letting go of hegemonic knowledge (of crime, of corrections and the dangerous few, for example).”

On a practical level, Ben-Moshe articulates responses to many of the common questions that abolitionists face, including: what to do about interpersonal or community safety; are non-carceral solutions practicable; why are certain people and behaviors criminalized; and, in the words of Angela Davis, what kind of “social landscape” would non-carcerality necessitate and entail. [...]

---

Since reaching a high-point in the late 2000s, the overall rate of [formal prison] incarceration has been [technically] declining [...]. This, however, should be kept in perspective -- the United States still remains the world’s leader in youth criminalization, with nearly 700,000 youth arrested annually (almost 10 percent of whom are arrested in schools) and over 43,000 youth incarcerated on a given day. [...] [T]he lessons of the previous example of decarceration counsel caution and vigilance. Ben-Moshe argues that deinstitutionalization with regard to physical space and locale has largely been a success; but insofar as deinstitutionalization was not accompanied by a widespread rejection of the paradigm and logic of coercive, carceral “solutions” to disability writ large, institutional and carceral regimes of marginalization have cropped up and even expanded within the vacuums left by the previous large state-run facilities:

Today those who were discharged or never institutionalized are still under the surveillance of the . . . state, but it has furthered its reach -- adhering to strict drug regimens, living in semi-institutions (group homes, halfway houses), and subjected to a variety of outpatient commitment laws and policies.

---

All text above by: Keith Rosenthal. “Jailbreak of Disability.” Rampant Magazine. 30 August 2021. [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me.]

#abolition #disability #medical

150 notes · View notes

girlactionfigure · 2 months

Text

🔅ISRAEL REALTIME news update - Erev Shabbat Parshat Vayak’hel

🔻HAMAS from Gaza - rockets - at Sderot, Nachal Oz, Ibim, Nir Am

▪️CEASEFIRE LEAKS.. The Qatari Al-Jazeera channel reports: The round of negotiations in Cairo for the ceasefire - ended without reaching an agreement, even though the mediators tried to bridge the gaps. Israel refused Hamas's request for a permanent ceasefire, the IDF's withdrawal from the Gaza Strip and the unconditional return of the displaced.

.. US envoy to Lebanon for a ceasefire ‘froze his mission’ and left.

.. Hamas in an official statement: “Our delegation left Cairo today to hold a consultation with the leadership. Efforts and negotiations continue to stop the fighting, return the displaced and provide aid to the Palestinian people.”

▪️PRESIDENT BIDEN SAYS:

“More than 30 thousand Palestinians were killed in the war. Most of them are not Hamas. Children were orphaned. Houses were destroyed. It's heartbreaking.

The US military will establish a temporary port in the Gaza Strip to transfer aid to Gazans. Our forces will not be on Gaza soil.

Hamas can end this conflict today by releasing the abductees, giving up weapons and handing over those responsible for the October 7th attack.

Israel bears responsibility for protecting the citizens because Hamas operatives hide like cowards among the civilian population.

There is no other solution that will guarantee Israel's security and peace with its neighbors other than the two-state solution.”

▪️HAMAS RESPONDS… Senior Hamas official Muhammad Nazal on Al Jazeera: “We welcome the establishment of a port in Gaza to bring in aid. We are interested in it to avoid the restrictions in the crossings.” (( we bet you are ‘interested in avoiding restrictions” ))

▪️LEBANON.. Significant attacks by the IDF throughout the day and into the evening on southern Lebanon Hezbollah sites, and have restarted again this morning.

▪️GAZA.. Fighting continues in Khan Yunis - Hamad neighborhood, rocket launchers captured and destroyed, drone strikes on enemy squads.

▪️UK SAYS.. British Foreign Secretary: “Hamas must accept the exchange deal, give up its weapons and leave the Gaza Strip.” (( hint: they’re not listening to you ))

▪️ANALYST COMMENTARY: “Five months of silence by the United Nations and international organizations passed before the UN acknowledged the terrible sexual abuse committed by the Gazan invaders, abuses that had not only evidence from the bodies that the Gazans stripped and mutilated their genitals, and the testimonies of the survivors and captives, there was also video, calls and text evidence that even the terrorists themselves documented and clearly showed the rape and the intentional sexual assault, which preceded anti-Semitic murder and abuse.

Was the UN silent all those months because of normal anti-Semitism and because of the part that the organization itself took in the pogrom , or did the organization need time to invent a blood libel against us to hide the horror?”

#Israel #Realtime War Updates #October 7 #Operation Swords of Iron #Hamas Massacre #Israel/HamasWar

22 notes · View notes

originalfatfiction · 10 days

Text

Belonging

His name was Amos Stanton, and we’d met online. He was twenty-nine years old, eight years my senior, and we had been corresponding with one another since I was nineteen. He’d wanted to meet up with me on multiple occasions, offering to arrange everything to make it happen, but in the end, I always chickened out. In all honesty, I was surprised he put up with me and my apprehension considering he seemed well-off and very honest about his intentions. I always had the feeling that he thought I was a flake who couldn’t truly commit.

It wasn’t that I didn’t like him. I thought about him constantly, but I had my reasons for being so hesitant to meet him in person. We’d had hundreds of phone calls over the years, but only a handful of video chatting sessions. Aside from a couple of photographs, I hadn’t even really seen his body. I sent him loads of pictures, but he was a more reserved sort of guy. I only had a foggy idea of what to expect from an actual meet-up. I guess it was a fear of ruining something I’d been building up in my mind for years. What if he’d been dishonest? I wouldn’t be able to continue our relationship if he had lied to me.

I hadn’t gone off to college. I worked a low paying retail job in the mall and still lived at home. My parents were furious I didn’t accept the wrestling scholarship I had been offered from our state school. Both of my older brothers went off to college and sometimes I regretted not going as well, at least to get away from my parents. But I knew deep down I wouldn’t have enjoyed it. I was never much for education.

Amos had finally convinced me to come and live with him. We’d been talking about an argument I’d had with my parents. They kept telling me I was wasting my life and that I couldn’t live with them forever. I was barely twenty-one, the candles on my birthday cake still smoking. I sure as hell didn’t want to live with them much longer. Amos listened as I complained, letting me know I’d be okay, and things would get better with my parents. “I just don’t wanna be here,” I’d said, not truly expecting him to provide me with a solution.

“Then come live with me,” he’d replied. “I’ll take care of you.”

And that was that.

He owned a home in a larger city, and he told me I was more than welcome to stay for as long as I liked. I knew it was crazy and I knew this could turn out terribly, but I also knew—deep down—that this was what I needed in my life to be happy. I knew that Amos would give me what I’d always wanted for myself.

I wanted to be big.

Amos would talk to me about how strong he could make me, about how big I’d get, about how I was going to be his devoted ex-jock. I would get hard just thinking about it and masturbate for hours. I still lifted hard, even after being out of high school for three years, but I wasn’t getting any size. My body was that of a wrestler and I still found it hard to eat a lot of food. I was barely 160 pounds on my 5’8” frame. I had ended high school at 145 pounds, so I was making progress, but it wasn’t enough.

A few days after that conversation with Amos, I sat my parents down and told them about how I was going to live with a buddy from high school, that a job training program opened up near his home, and that I’d try to visit during the holidays. It was late April at this point. My father told me it was the right thing to do as a man and gave me a hundred dollars to get started in the world. I loved my parents but being at home wasn’t going to make me happy.

The next thing I knew I was on a bus, the ride only about two hours. I had arranged everything with Amos, and he told me he’d be there to greet me. I was nervous. I kind of wanted to turn around and go back home, but at this point I had to follow through. I wasn’t going to flake out this time. I had to think positively and believe everything was going to work out.

My bus pulled into the terminal, and after grabbing my two duffel bags, I made my way to the waiting area. I thought about if he didn’t show. I would look like a complete idiot with nowhere to go. I couldn’t survive alone in the city with only my measly savings account and the hundred bucks from my mom and dad.

I knew what he looked like from his pictures and our handful of video chats, but it was still hard trying to find him in the crowd of people. “Russell,” I heard a voice call. I scanned the crowd again. “Hey there.” There he stood, in the flesh. Amos. I was more than excited. I felt like a little kid with a schoolyard crush. I dropped my bags and went in to hug him. He was tall and thinly muscled. Now this was living. “Well fuck,” he said. “You’re cute.”

I laughed, my face hot with embarrassment. I had to remember he was an older guy and that I had to act more maturely. “It’s, uh, really nice to finally meet you,” I said, trying my best to contain my enthusiasm.

“Likewise,” he said with a grin. He motioned towards the exit. “My car’s this way. Let’s go.” I grabbed my bags and followed behind him like a lost puppy.

He was maybe about 6’3” and took long strides. I walked quickly to keep up. He wore a pair of stylish charcoal slacks and a white dress shirt. His ass looked great, very firm and round. I watched it shift as I walked along behind him. He looked younger than he actually was, definitely not like he was almost thirty.

I liked that he was taller than I was. I was the tallest one in my entire family, so it was a well embraced change of pace. I was a black guy, with skin the color of milk chocolate. Amos was sort of pale, but still looked healthy. He didn’t have any facial hair, but I had a slight beard.

I could already tell we were going to make a great pair.

We made it to his home, and it was not what I had imagined. It was actually much larger than I had anticipated. We walked up a few stone steps to his front door and he let me inside. It was very modern and spacious. “Your house is amazing,” I said. He laughed.

“Yeah, I do pretty all right for myself.” He took my bags from me and directed me to follow him. We walked down a hallway, stopping outside of a closed door. He told me to go on in and I obeyed. I entered a bedroom that was small, but nicer than the room I had at home. “This is your personal room, feel free to arrange things however you like.” I had thought I would be staying with him in his bedroom, but I guess we weren’t much of a couple. “How about I show you the rest of the house?” he asked.

“Yeah, that’d be cool,” I said.

After that, he gave me the grand tour. He showed me the kitchen and told me I could eat anything I wanted, whenever I wanted. He added that he didn’t think I’d ever be that in need of a snack. I got hard thinking about him filling me with food, making sure I was never hungry. I wanted it so badly, and I was finally going to get it.

He continued with the tour, taking me through the back door. There was a pool in his yard and a tall fence that obscured his property from the neighbors. “You’ve even got a pool,” I said, majorly impressed.

“Perfect for skinny dipping,” he said. I laughed, getting even more erect. His whole aura was like an aphrodisiac. We went back into the house, where he showed me the master bathroom, which was ridiculously grandiose. The tub was huge. There was even a separate shower that had room for at least three people.

“Come on,” he said. “This is somewhere you’ll really love.” I followed him down some stairs to the basement, which had the laundry room, but also a home gym. He had a substantial amount of equipment.

“This is amazing,” I told him. I walked over to a rack of weights, taking in their quality. Everything was in pristine condition.

“Hope you’re ready to use those,” he said with a wink. Amos was everything I had imagined and more. I was excited to get big for him. I wanted to make him happy. Having gotten to know him online for nearly three years made me all the more ready to get to know him in person. I wanted to do whatever he asked of me, to submit to whatever he asked, and to grow. “Let’s get you something to eat,” he said. I followed him back upstairs to the kitchen and he pulled out a large salad from the refrigerator. He placed it in front of me, along with three types of salad dressing. “I didn't know what type you liked,” he said. “I’m going to heat up this tray of lasagna I made, so you just eat that while you wait, okay?”

“Yes sir,” I said, picking up the ranch dressing and a fork. He chuckled lightly. He busied himself reheating the lasagna and I greedily shoved the leafy greens into my mouth. He placed a basket of warm rolls next to me. He had heated them up while I’d been tearing into the salad. I took one and bit into its soft, buttery goodness.

He poured me a glass of milk, which didn’t taste like 2%. It was kind of sweet. He sat across from me at the table. The lasagna had another fifteen minutes in the oven. “It’s really good so far,” I said through a mouthful of food. “I’m excited for the lasagna.”

“Well, you have to eat it all,” he said. “I’m looking to be impressed.” I swallowed more of the salad, feeling a little full already.

“All of it?” I inquired. He laughed. He was really attractive, and his laugh was no different. He was thin, but his body had an obvious muscularity. He had rolled the sleeves of his dress shirt up to reveal well-toned forearms. I was sure he used his home gym regularly. There was a treadmill down there and I doubted it was for me.

“I’m trying to be hospitable,” he said, smiling playfully. He was teasing me. “You wouldn’t want to offend me, would you?”

“N-no, of course not!”

“That’s what I thought.”

A little after that, he pulled the lasagna from the oven, allowing it to cool as I finished the salad, which had been in a large serving bowl. He cut a piece for himself and put it on a plate. He placed the rest of the dish in front of me. I wanted nothing more than to impress him, so I dove into the lasagna with gusto. I made it halfway through before I thought I was going to pass out.

He kept refilling my glass of milk, having finished his portion a while ago. He sat across from me at the table and watched me silently. “I-I don’t think I can finish it,” I said breathlessly.

“I think you can,” he said. “You don’t want to be rude, right?”

“Yeah, right. I-I guess—I’ll keep eating.” He had a quality that made me want to be better. I didn’t want to let him down. I made it through another ten forkfuls. He stood up and walked to my side of the table.

“You’re going to eat that,” he said, his voice firm and authoritative, but supportive. It was driving me wild and even though my stomach was in pain, I had an even more painful erection. “You know you want to get big. You’ve got to eat up if you want to get bigger.” He was right. I had to finish this. I leaned over the dish and began to shovel the rest of the pasta into my mouth, sauce covering my cheeks. This went on for a couple more minutes before I was finished.

I don’t know if it was the athlete in me, but I even took the last roll and cleaned the dish before downing the rest of my milk. I couldn’t believe I’d eaten like that. After all of that eating I was ready to sleep. He let me clean up and go to bed, and I was grateful for it.

The next morning, I made my way to the kitchen and found a dozen doughnuts waiting for me. There was an assortment of flavors, and I was enjoying being able to sample each one. I couldn’t believe I could eat again after last night, but I was actually hungry. I also helped myself to some more milk.

I found a note on the refrigerator that said the doughnuts were pre-breakfast. I wasn’t too sure what that meant, but I assumed Amos would have me eating something else soon. I was excited at the idea of eating so much. When I lived at home, I ate a lot, but not as much as this—not nearly as much as this.

A little while later I heard someone enter through the front door. It was Amos and he had three bags of fast food. “Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he said with a smile as he walked into the kitchen. “This is for you—ah, good, you got the doughnuts.”

“They were really good, thanks,” I said. He smiled at me, and I felt my stomach flutter. It was a mixture of attraction to him and anticipation of what else he’d expect me to fit in there. I couldn’t believe how ordinary my life had been up until this point.

“Before you get started on breakfast, there are some things I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Yes, that’s fine, anything.”

“All right,” he said. He had me come into the living room and I sat on the sofa. “There are some things I need from you, things that’ll make me happy and hopefully you’ll like them too.”

“Okay,” I said. I was listening intently, but I was also thinking about what else he had gotten me for breakfast. I turned my attention back to Amos.

“When you’re in the house I want you to wear nothing but underwear, be it briefs or jockstraps. I want to be able to look at you.”

“I like the sound of that,” I said. He laughed. I really was okay with that. He was making me horny, and it was only because he was being so controlling. I knew that was something I was looking for, but damn, it was arousing in action.

“I need you to follow a workout schedule and I need you to eat everything I tell you too.” He paused for a moment, in what I was assuming was an attempt to choose the phrasing of his next statement. “You can only cum when I let you. No masturbating.” I nodded in agreement. That was going to be way more difficult than the underwear thing. “I also want to record your stats every month because, honestly, I think it’s really erotic.” I stood up and looked at him seriously. I pulled my t-shirt over my head and pulled off my pajama bottoms. I stood in a pair of white low-rise briefs. “Fuck kid, can you be any more adorable.”

After we discussed the guidelines he wanted me to follow, I ate my actual breakfast. I had six sausage biscuits and eight hash browns. I was struggling at around four of the sandwiches, but Amos made sure I finished them all. He also had me drink a fuck ton of his special milk as well.

He took my stats for the first month after that, and I weighed in at 164 pounds. I stood in my underwear as he measured me, my stomach rounded out from all the food I had eaten. His touching me all over had my penis stiffening. “Somebody’s excited,” he said laughing.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” I said with a toothy grin.

“Remember, we’ve got to hold off on that,” he said, looking up from taking my measurements. “But don’t worry. I’ll take good care of you.” He stood up and looked down at me. He observed me intently for a moment, his eyes a beautiful hazel color with intense flecks of green. His nose was thin, but large. It was complemented by his fleshy lips and strong jawline.

His hand found its way to my bulge. He grabbed onto it through my underwear. “Can I kiss you?” I asked. He smiled at me before leaning down to kiss me. I wanted to do so much more with him. I wanted to let him fill me up from behind just as much as he had been filling me up with food. I felt like I was ready to explode. He bit my lower lip softly and then slowly stopped kissing me.

“Well, let’s get you started with that workout.” He removed his hand from my crotch, and I heard myself whimper. I’d never made that sound before, but Amos had me whimpering. It excited me how badly I wanted him, how badly I wanted him to want me. I’d do whatever necessary to impress him, to make it impossible for him to resist the body he was going to build. I was going to be Amos’ monster. An absolute beast.

Fuck. My dick was already leaking as I made my way to my room to grab some socks and my gym shoes. We made our way to the basement, my dick still rock hard. He was also in his own workout gear. He explained to me that he’d be running and doing light weight training.

I was going to be doing more hardcore workouts and when things were too serious, he’d spot me. My boner lasted until about halfway through my workout, but once I really got into it, I barely remembered how horny I was. I had rarely ever pushed myself so hard. I couldn’t believe how sore I was after. It felt amazing and I was shocked that come lunch time I was famished. I felt ready to eat everything he had to throw at me.

Over those first two weeks I was falling hard for him. I was also incredibly excited for my upcoming monthly weigh-in. I had taken to getting up in the middle of the night to have a snack or two. I wanted him to be impressed with me, and I wanted results. I was finally realizing my dreams.

I could barely touch my penis without wanting to masturbate. I was very accustomed to freely jacking off whenever I felt the urge. When I was just messaging Amos online, I would find myself doing it two or three times a night. I found that while I was eating or lifting, the compulsion to masturbate was numbed. I wondered if Amos knew that’d happen.

My days consisted of pre-breakfast and then actual breakfast, a workout, lunch, another workout, dinner, and post-dinner. There were also my late-night snacks and whatever else I ate during the day. I was feeling so different and like a better version of myself. When my first weigh-in arrived, I was more than excited. I stood in a red jock that Amos had gotten me a little over a week ago. It cradled my junk in a way that made me more than aware that I hadn’t masturbated in a month.

He had me step onto the scale and I felt his eyes all over me. I knew Amos turned me on beyond belief, but it was nice in these moments to see that I made him just as horny. I wondered if he masturbated at all. “Shit, Russ, I thought you were looking big this month but not this big,” he said. “181 pounds.” I flexed my arms a little and he smiled.

“I did good, huh?” I asked, stepping off of the scale. He walked close to me and placed his warm hands on my waist. My stomach was no longer flat. I looked bloated at all times, but in actuality I was finally getting fatter. I felt stronger than ever, and the gainer shakes after my workouts were doing nothing but good things for my waistline.

“Your workouts are going well,” he said as his hands moved down my sides and towards my ass. “And I think I know where all that weight is going.” I felt my face heat up. “You must be doing extra squats to get this ass so big.” He grabbed my backside harder than I expected. I had been hard since I stepped on the scale, and I felt pre-cum spurt from the head of my dick.

He kissed me, and I felt my body relax in ecstasy. The smallest touches from Amos were enough to send me into a headspace that I had never experienced in my entire life. I longed to be close to him always. I still stayed in my own room, longing for the day he’d invite me into his own bed. Amos pulled away slowly. “Don’t stop,” I pleaded.

“You deserve something special,” he said. His face was as red as I’d ever seen it. Was he finally going to give me what I’d been dreaming of? I was still a virgin, only ever been fingered by some boy just as sexually immature as I was. We had both been on the wrestling team in high school. Last I heard, he was dating some girl he met at the community college in my parents' town. Amos walked towards the kitchen, and I took that as an indication to follow him. “Eat this.” He had brought out a beautiful pink box. It looked like it was from some super fancy bakery.

“I’ll eat it,” I said seriously. I opened the box and inside were six large cupcakes of varying flavors. He knew I loved a variety. I picked up one as we stood in the middle of the kitchen. I looked at him as I bit into the sweet treat.

“That’s chocolate vanilla swirl,” he said with a smirk. I laughed as I licked icing from my lips. It was a really delicious cupcake. He got on his knees as I was finishing the chocolate vanilla swirl cupcake.

“What—what’re you doing?” I asked.

“If you can talk right now, you should be eating,” he said. He pulled the jock to the ground and my dick bobbed freely for a moment. I started on the next cupcake. It had a lot of little red sprinkles. It was kind of spicy and very chocolaty. I shoved the rest of the treat into my open mouth, and he wrapped his lips around the head of my penis. I immediately felt pre-cum spurt into his mouth. I wasn’t going to last long. I started eating the rest of the cupcakes like a mad man. When I thought about the food, I wasn’t completely focused on the best blowjob of my existence. I didn’t want to cum too quickly.

Amos stopped sucking me off and began to lightly kiss my gut. I took another oversized bite of a cupcake, this one lemon flavored. I focused on the citrus, finishing it in another large bite. I felt so greedy eating like this and that was turning me on even more. I reached for the next one—Red Velvet. I looked down, and Amos looked up at me, his eyes unlike I’d seen them ever before. He loved this. He loved what he was doing to my body. He watched as I shoved a majority of the Red Velvet cupcake in my mouth. He moved his hand to my ass, squeezing one of my plump cheeks.

“Finish ‘em off, Russ,” Amos directed before bringing his mouth back towards my dick. He licked my shaft slowly, popping the head back in his mouth. I had to grab the next one, to prevent a premature eruption—S’mores. Graham cracker and marshmallow flooded my taste buds.

I hastily reached for the last cupcake. I bit into it, surprised by a substantial amount of banana pudding that was on the inside. This was a Banana Cream Pie cupcake. I got some of the pudding on my fingers and I licked them quickly, swallowing the remaining morsels of the baked good. My moist hand found the side of my gut and I rubbed it gently. This was the biggest I’d ever been, but also the smallest I’d ever be again.

“I ate them all, Sir,” I said breathlessly. He slowed, pulling his mouth away for a moment to take me in.

Without the eating to distract me, I felt it happening before I could angle my path of ejaculation away from him. Some hit him on the chin and the rest covered the front of his lavender dress shirt. I felt it coming out of me for what felt like a whole minute. “I’m so sorry. It—it was an accident,” I said all flustered. He stood up and began to unbutton his shirt. He stood shirtless in front of me, and I was immediately turned on again. Amos had a well-defined body, which was long and slightly hairy. His hair looked well-groomed, and I wanted to touch his chest and the hair on his stomach. His stomach reminded me of my wrestling days, when I actually had abs.

“Somebody got a little excited.” He laughed softly, and I felt myself smile. He wasn’t mad at me.

I couldn’t believe it, but I was suddenly very, very hungry.

That weigh-in was in May and we were halfway through the month of June. The weather had gotten really hot, but I spent most of my time in the house. I only ever went outside to swim around in the pool. We hadn’t gone out in public, but I wasn’t too concerned. I was focusing on eating and lifting. I was feeling really big, the largest I had ever been in my life. My capacity had increased, and I was going through gainer shakes like there was no tomorrow. I probably had at least four or five every day.

Amos had taken a lot of time off to spend time with me that first month and a half, but now he was working a lot more. He was a realtor and sold luxury homes.

He had things delivered for me to eat around lunch time. I had eaten a lot of pizza and pastas. He’d bring me desserts in the pink boxes every other evening. He was a really sweet guy. “Russell,” he started. “I want you to go out more. You don’t have to stay in the house all day.” I had always assumed that was what I was supposed to do.

“Oh—that’s cool,” I said. “But what would I do?”

“Go out to eat,” he said with a smirk. “I actually ordered you some summer clothes.” I had no clue he had done that. “But you don’t have to wear them if you don’t want to.” Why would I not want to wear them? He went to retrieve them from his bedroom. There were a lot of shorts and tanks. There was also a pair of sweats that looked like they were made out of the material of a wrestling singlet. I was wearing a jockstrap, so I could easily put on an outfit.

I grabbed a pair of navy shorts and pulled them on. They were really tight. I would normally be much too bashful to wear something like this in public. My thighs looked huge in the shorts. I got them up over my ass, which was actually getting much bigger. Amos was right about me doing a lot of squats, but it was only because I knew he liked my butt. I could feel that the crack of my ass was not fully covered. I pulled on a tank top, which was white with thin blue horizontal stripes. For the first time in my life, I truly felt big. My bulge was a little obscene, but I was fully covered.

“Do you, uh like, this kind of outfit?” Amos asked, clearing his throat. “I could always get you something else—less revealing.”

“Do I look good in this?” I asked.

“Of course you do!” he exclaimed, his face reddening. I walked closer to him, feeling the most monstrous I’d ever felt, and wrapped my arms around him. He placed one of his hands on my head, the other on my ass. We stood that way for a long time. It was really nice, feeling his body against mine. “Let’s go out. Get your shoes on.”

I went to my room and put on socks and sneakers. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror on the door of my bedroom and stopped for a moment. I was becoming what I had always wanted. I flexed my arms for myself before my hands found their way to my gut. It was nice having so much size.

I turned to the side and saw how it stood out from my body. I was getting myself worked up. I lifted my tank up and saw how beefy my gut was. It made me want to eat. My pecs were large, but all the lifting I did couldn’t stop fat from accumulating there as well. My ass was always huge, and it had gotten a great deal beefier in the past two months.

We drove in his car and ended up at a public park. I hadn’t been in a large crowd in some time, and it made me a little anxious. I suddenly didn’t feel that big, and I even felt naked in my outfit. I wanted really badly to grab his hand, but I fought the urge.

There were booths and food trucks lined up and down the sidewalk offering a variety of different foods. It was barely six o’clock. He patted me on the stomach and smiled. “I’ve got cash,” he said. “Let’s try lots of stuff.”

We walked from booth to booth getting different foods. He’d buy a large sample and nibble off of it before allowing me to demolish the rest. I was his human garbage disposal. We had Greek food and Mexican. I tried something called a pierogi and had a plateful of BBQ. There was a booth full of soul food that reminded me of home, and I had a great deal of that.

He was really fun to be around. He liked to people watch and would make really funny comments. There was this guy who was on roller blades in a Statue of Liberty costume that we watched for a while. “I bet he just has a blast,” Amos said with a chuckle. “Not a care in the world. Living for liberty and freedom, skating through the park annoying soccer moms and joggers alike.”

“He’s serving his country,” I added. “A true American hero.” He laughed for a while at that one, and it made me feel good. After that we went to get ice cream. I was already painfully full but pushing past that point made me feel good. On our way to the ice cream stall, I rubbed my belly mindlessly. A woman looked at me a little disgustedly and then away quickly. I felt my face heat up with embarrassment. “She must be so jealous of me. I’m with the hottest guy in the whole park.”

“Ha, yeah,” I replied, feeling a little weird.

“Let’s get that ice cream,” he said gently. He ordered me a huge cone and it was actually pretty tasty. His was different than mine and he offered to let me taste his as well. He held the ice cream up to my face and I took a lick. I could see he was turned on and so I ate a little more. I had already finished mine, being the fat boy that I was. Before he knew what was up, I had almost completely slurped down most of his dessert. “Do—do you want the rest?” he asked.

“Sure,” I said as I took the cone from him. I finished it quickly.

“Man,” he started. “I feel so indecent getting a boner in a public park.” Amos rarely talked like this, and it was getting me going. We walked slowly next to one another. He leaned closer into me before he spoke again. “And watching that huge bubble butt of yours shifting back and forth in those little shorts makes me want to lick you all over.”

I was getting an erection, and in these shorts that would be a problem. I tried hard to stay calm, but I was semi-erect. “Amos, don’t say that. I—I get too excited.”

“I know how you get,” he said. “You’re horny all the time and the fact you’re making so much progress turns you on even more, doesn’t it?” He grabbed a handful of my ass, and my penis was no longer just semi-erect. I wanted him to fuck me. “You’re becoming this big strong bull, but you know I’m still the one taking care of you.” I once again whimpered like a dog, a sound I found myself making much more frequently. I was feeling so submissive, and I wanted Amos to dominate me.

“Amos, I—I like that you take care of me.” He removed his hand from my butt.

“I do a good job, don’t I?” he asked. “And I always will, because you’re mine.” I nodded quickly. A man who had been walking near us cleared her throat theatrically. We ignored him and made our way back to Amos’ car. On the way home he bought me a couple of burgers and a milkshake.

I ate everything.

Sometime in July I asked him what I could do that’d turn him on even more. He was pretty bashful about telling me at first, but I pulled it out of him. He was a fan of men that were intimidating but he could still be dominant over. So, I ended up getting some piercings and he wondered if I’d get my hair cut a certain way.

It all happened in one day, and at first, I was a little nervous. I got my nipples pierced first, and then my ears. I also got a mohawk fade. My beard had gotten much thicker as well. I was really digging the new me.

I’d be the first one to admit that I did look a great deal more intimidating. He couldn’t wait for the nipple piercings to heal. I had the feeling Amos was getting more and more amped up to actually fuck me.

By August I weighed over 200 pounds for the first time in my life. Amos was more than happy when the scale told him I was 219 pounds. I had taken to eating even more than ever before and Amos could barely believe it. I felt unstoppable. I was a beast.

“My family wants to meet you,” Amos said dryly one afternoon in mid-August. I never really considered the fact that Amos could even have a family. He seemed so independent that I imagined he was one day put on the earth as an adult. “They want me to host the Labor Day party this year, because of the pool.”

“I don’t think I’m ready for that. I’d be too nervous.” I drank from a shake made from protein powder, ice cream, and whole milk. “What if they don’t like me?”

“You’re the nicest guy I’ve ever met. I doubt they’d dislike you.”

“But—but, what about how—”

“How you look?” he asked. I nodded. “You look fucking spectacular. I’m not ashamed of you in any way. I actually want to show you off every chance I get, so everyone knows I’m with such a stud.”

“It’s your family, Amos. They’re more important than some strangers on the street.”

“Let me be perfectly clear,” he started, sounding even more serious than before. It’s like he had some sort of power in which he could make his voice soothing yet commanding. “I live my life for myself. You and me, we’re a package deal. They’ll treat you with respect or they can leave. Simple as that. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir,” I replied, the front of my jock bulging as my dick hardened. I was nervous and excited at the same time. Amos saw me as something other than some guy he was fooling around with. He respected me enough to introduce me to his family as his boyfriend. “I’ll do whatever you ask.”

“Good boy,” he said, patting me on the tummy. “I guess we’ve got a party to plan.”

Leading up to Labor Day we found lots of fun things for the party. It wouldn’t be a lot of people, but Amos planned an incredibly large menu. He described all the things that would be prepared and how much he expected me to eat.

We went to shop for swimsuits, and even though I already had one or normally swam naked, he insisted I get another one. I ended up getting a lime green pair of classic cut trunks. I felt like they would be too revealing for a family function, but he told me they were perfectly fine.

My ass was large and firm, and even with the XL swimwear I was not fully covered. It was the curse of having such a large lower body. I felt like my bulge was a little much, but I did feel really attractive. My pecs rounded out into large mounds of muscle and fat. My gut was usually always full of food as I took my job as his greedy man-beast very seriously. That morning was the start of September and at my weigh-in I had made it to nearly 230 pounds. I hardly recognized myself anymore, but I wanted more. I wanted to be bigger, stronger, and fatter—to be the ideal man of Amos, as well as myself.

We bought my suit as well as a very nice pair of orange trunks for Amos that went halfway up his muscular thighs. We made our way home to have dinner, and with the events of the day I wanted to outgrow my new swimsuit.

The night before his family would be coming over, he presented to me a chain collar and a lock. “It’s waterproof,” he said with a shy smile and red cheeks. “If you’d be willing, I’d like for you to wear this.”

I took it from him and draped it around my neck. The chain was thick and slightly cold. It felt heavy, but I liked the weight of it. I clicked it in place and grabbed the lock for a moment. He was turning me into a total badass. “I feel extra cool,” I said.

“I have the key,” he said. He pulled a much thinner chain from under his dress shirt, and I saw that on the end of it was a small key to the lock around my neck. “You’re mine, you badass.” We smiled at one another and then I had two thick gainer shakes.

I had to look my best for the party.

The next day he woke up early to fire up the grill. He would be making chicken wings, brats, burgers, and ribs. I was busy in the kitchen slicing fruit and making other side dishes. He wanted me to make macaroni and cheese when I told him how much butter and cheese my mother’s recipe required. “Oh, you need some of that,” he said. “I should get you to eat some of that every week. Then you’d really get some meat on those bones.”

His family would arrive at about noon. I was nervous, sure, but also kind of excited. Amos was an incredible guy, so his family had to be a good one. I wore my lime green trunks and a yellow tank. I was very vibrant.

Everything was ready at around eleven-thirty. We busied ourselves setting things up and his family arrived right on time. That seemed like a quality all of the Stanton’s possessed. His parents, Freddie and Kathy, were very nice, and tall. His mom was about my height and Freddie had to be at least 6’4” because he was taller than Amos. Amos had two younger brothers as well. The middle brother looked just like Amos and had a wife of his own. His name was Harris, and the youngest brother was named Bud. He was only two years younger than I was.

“Amos, so good to see you,” said Julia, the wife of Harris. “And it’s nice to meet you too, Russell.” I was surprised she already knew my name. I returned the sentiment before Amos interjected.

“The food is ready so let’s eat while it’s hot.” We all shuffled out to the patio and sat. The conversation was good, but Bud didn’t talk much. He seemed distant, but I took it as how I had been when I was still at home.

I ate a brat in three bites and before I could finish chewing another found its way to my plate. I had mac and cheese piled high on my plate along with other sides. Everyone had finished eating yet I was going strong. The conversations continued and things were going great.

Sitting in the patio chair and shoveling food into my mouth I felt the tank straining against my gut. I could even feel my gut on my lap. I loved how I felt. I loved that I was the biggest guy at the party. When everyone else was preoccupied Amos gave me a pat on the stomach.

“I think they really like you,” he said quietly. His hand rubbed my belly slowly. “But I wish they’d fucking leave so I could feed my boyfriend in peace.” I was semi-erect and tried to reign it in.

I thought about how when I was eating, I wasn’t as horny. “I’m gonna get the ice cream sandwiches,” I said. “Maybe your family will want some.” I made my way into the kitchen when I noticed Bud and Kathy talking on the sofa. They hadn’t noticed me entering.

“Mom, he’s like some beast,” Bud said. “Like, he wears chains and stuff. Who does that?”

“He’s only two years older than you, Bud,” she replied. “He also seems really sweet.”

“He’s only twenty-one? How?” Bud questioned in awe. “He could probably break Amos in half if he wanted. I bet they’re into some freaky shit.”

“Oh, stop it, Bud. Don’t swear and don’t talk about your brother and his boyfriend having sex.” I was slightly taken aback. I hadn’t considered the idea that Bud was so quiet because he didn’t care for me. I cleared my throat loudly and offered them some ice cream sandwiches.

They both looked surprised to see me and Mrs. Stanton was noticeably embarrassed.

“No,” Bud said quickly, surprisingly more flustered than his mom. “That’s okay.” I began to retreat back to the patio before he stopped me.

“What’s up?” I asked. He’d made his way over to me and he stood looking down at me slightly. Amos really came from a family of giants. He studied me closely and—I might have been sorely mistaken—but I felt like he was looking at me like how I normally looked at Amos. He admired me in some regard, and it was actually really cool.

“I’ll take two of those if that’d be okay.”

“Yeah, Bud,” I said. “You gotta eat big to get big.”

After that, Bud stuck to me like glue. He asked me about my diet and my workout regimen. I wasn’t as bold as Amos, so I gave him a heavily edited version of my routine. We all swam around and chatted. If I had to make a complaint, my swimsuit rode up a lot. Normally it wouldn’t have mattered, but I didn’t think the entire Stanton clan wanted a glimpse of my beefy ass cheeks.

It was a good time, and I was glad Amos allowed me to become such an intimate part of his life. I had even more fun after they all left. Amos told me he didn’t want to see any leftovers.

There weren’t any.

My life with Amos only continued to improve as time went on. I hadn’t made it home for the holidays like I initially told my family I would. I missed Christmas, New Years, and Easter. If I were to be honest with myself, I didn’t really want to see my family. I didn’t know how they’d react to my lifestyle changes.

“We’re worried about you,” my mother said to me over the phone in late April. It had been about a year since I had come to live with Amos.

“We talk every month,” I said, knowing where this conversation was going. “I just haven’t found a good time to come see you guys.”

“Well, Bobby is graduating next month, and I expect you to come home to celebrate your brother earning his Master’s.” Robert, who everyone called Bobby, was my middle brother. Terry was the oldest, and he had graduated from college five years ago. I loved my brothers, and I didn’t want Bobby to think I didn’t care about how hard he had been working.

“Mom, I—I don’t know if I’ll be able to make it. I’ll check my schedule.” This whole situation was making me anxious.

“Is it money, Russell?” she asked. “It’s okay if you need to move back home. It’s okay.”

“No, mom—it’s got nothing to do with money. Just text me the details. I’ll be there.”

“Everybody is going to be so excited,” she said, and I could hear the smile in her voice. “You must be starving out there working so hard. This is going to be the biggest celebration this family has seen in a while. I’ll make sure I’ve got all your favorite foods, baby. I’ll text you, okay?”

“Okay, mom. Talk to you later,” I said. She told me she loved me, and I returned the sentiment before hanging up the phone. I placed my hand on my stomach, feeling its bulk. I felt massive and tiny at the same time. I wished Amos was here, but he was working. He wouldn’t be home for a couple of hours.

At my April weigh-in I was just over 300 pounds. After seeing that number on the scale both Amos and I sat astounded. I had nearly doubled my initial weight in a year. He sucked me off twice after that. We still hadn’t had anal sex yet, but I had the feeling it would be happening soon.

Amos was a very by the book kind of guy. He had brought me products to prep myself for anal, so things wouldn’t be a mess when we did actually have sex for the first time. I hoped I could satisfy him in that way. I wanted to be what he wanted. Especially after he invested so much into me.

I ate my lunch and did my workout. I had become so accustomed to my daily routine that I had a lot of free time. I’d go out and about occasionally, and I noticed people would watch me a little more than they used to. I wondered if my family would say anything, or just stare at me like the people on the street did.

Looking at myself in a mirror after my workout I took in my body as I did every day. My shoulders were broad, meeting in the middle at my thick neck. Amos said that my face had gotten fat. He said that my head and neck had become a singular entity, and that without my beard it would be hard to distinguish the two.

Amos said that the cheeks on my face rivaled the cheeks on my backside. “When you smile,” he had said. “You can barely see your eyes.” It was true. I had always gotten squinty when I smiled, but with the extra weight I carried it was even more extreme.

My body impressed Amos in a multitude of ways, and he had things to say about all of me. The way my tits sagged, though still firm with muscle. How my butt had ruined nearly every pair of pants he bought me. The immense size of my thighs and calves. He even had things to say about how thick my hands and feet had gotten. I was getting hard thinking about Amos, about how he’d grab me.

He got in around five, pink bakery box in tow. “Russ, I’m home,” he called as he entered the kitchen. I made my way to where he stood. I was in a purple jock, my body on full display for him.

“Welcome home,” I said, walking close to him, ready to receive affection. He wrapped me in his arms, and I felt everything I had been worried about fall to the wayside, if only for a moment.

“How’s my big guy today?” he asked, kissing the top of my head.

“Not good,” I said, dreading having to talk about my intended trip home. “I talked to my mom today. I have to go home for my brother’s graduation.”

“I know how nervous dealing with your family makes you,” he said, letting go of me and looking down at me. He smiled softly, trying his best to calm my nerves. “You had to see your family at some point. Don’t let it overwhelm you.”

“But—but what if they’re mad, or they want me to move back home?” I hated when I acted this way. I felt whiny, burdensome.

“You plan on leaving me?” he asked.

“No, Sir,” I answered. “I never want to leave you.”

“Then they’ll just have to accept how much you’ve grown and the life you’ve set up for yourself.” I nodded. He was right. He always was. “Do you want me to go with you?”

I felt my face light up. I didn’t want to burden him with having to meet my family, not yet anyway. They’d be all over him, probably upset about my weight, not working, and being gay. “You would come with me, Amos?”

“Let me know the dates and I’ll take off from work.” I hugged him immediately, squeezing him much harder than I realized. He groaned loudly and I removed my arms from around him. He laughed, calming me even more. “You’ve got to be careful. You know you can break me in half.”

The next month Amos and I drove the two hours to my hometown. The entire ride he had me eating snacks. And I do mean the entire ride. Chips, trail mix, snack cakes, soda, sandwiches. When we pulled up outside of my parents’ place, I was next level bloated.

The first of the month was last week, and my weigh-in was somewhat disappointing. Maybe it was the stress of the visit, but I hadn’t been going as hard as I’d been the last couple of months. I couldn’t bring myself to eat my late-night snacks and I was barely getting through one gainer shake a day.

Amos didn’t say anything, but his lack of enthusiasm was like a dagger through the heart. I’d been working so hard, and I’d nearly doubled my starting weight in a year, but it didn’t feel like enough. I feared that if I continued to disappoint him, he’d look for someone who could better live up to his expectations.

“Do you want to grab the bags now or later?” Amos asked.

“We can come back for them later.” I wanted to make sure any potential escape was as swift as possible. There was no need to bring luggage into the house when we’d probably be leaving soon anyway.

We walked up the driveway to the front door, Amos behind me. My hands and feet were numb with cold, even though it was a sunny Friday afternoon in May. I was in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt that probably shouldn’t have been so tight. You could see the outline of my belly button and my pierced nipples.

I stood frozen, staring at the doorbell. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t help feeling like some sort of freak, a disappointment. They wouldn’t accept me like this, and it felt ridiculous to welcome their disapproval. We shouldn’t have come all this way for something that could have been avoided. Maybe that was foolish of me, thinking I’d never have to see my family again, but it was better than this.

“Ring the bell,” Amos said softly. “Whatever happens, you know that you’ve got me. I promise.”

“Okay,” I replied, ringing the bell quickly before I chickened out. There was some slight shuffling, and then the door opened suddenly.

It was both of my parents, which wasn’t a normal occurrence. I think they both came to the door because they were expecting me. We hadn’t seen each other for over a year at this point. They were absolutely silent for much longer than could be considered normal.

“Uh, hey Mom. Hey Dad.”

My mother laughed awkwardly, turning towards my dad to exchange a glance before turning back to me. She looked behind me at Amos before she finally spoke.

“Well,” she said, laughing again. “Look at you.”

“Damn boy,” my dad added. “Your mom thought you were out there starving. You ain’t missed a meal since you left here.” Amos chuckled behind me. Of course he’d think that was funny. He was the reason I hadn’t missed any meals.

“Come in, boys,” my mom said. “Wait, where are your bags? Don’t tell me you aren’t staying.”

“They’re in the car,” I said, the warmth returning to my hands and feet. I was sure they’d have a lot of questions, and they’d probably talk about this for an hour as they laid next to each other before bed tonight, but they weren’t pushing me away. “I’ll grab them.”

I turned, so I could walk back down the driveway. “Damn, he got more ass than you,” my dad commented, patting my mom on the behind. Like my t-shirt, the sweats I wore outlined every curve of my body. The cheeks were slightly separated by the fabric, highlighting the heft of each. I looked up at Amos, who was smirking slightly. He really was enjoying my discomfort in this situation, the embarrassing comments from my father, the nervous glances from my mother. He was a bit of a sadist, and as weird as this whole situation was, I was kind of enjoying it too.

After bringing the bags into the foyer, it was obvious there were a bunch of other people in the house. I shouldn’t have been surprised. My mother loved celebrations, and this was my homecoming and my brother’s graduation. What better reasons to invite people over and throw a party?

Scattered throughout the living room were a bunch of my relatives. I saw my oldest brother Terry and his wife. She held their two-year old in her arms and was sporting a sizable baby bump. Bobby was wearing a sash that said “graduate” on it in gold lettering. His girlfriend was here too. I also noticed both sets of grandparents, some uncles, a few aunts, a plethora of cousins. They all looked at me like they’d spotted Bigfoot.

“Shit bro!” Bobby exclaimed. “You look like you ate your old self.” There was some laughter and nervous murmurs. I knew this was a make-or-break weekend. It was my reintroduction to my family, and I had to lay some things out on the table. In particular, I had to introduce Amos. I’m sure everyone was curious about the tall white guy who was towering over us all.

“It’s good to see everyone,” I started. “City life has been treating me well. This guy here is named Amos, and he and I are—we’re—uh, seeing each other.”

Nobody really said anything until my nephew, still in his mother’s arms, waved in our direction and said in his little voice, “Hi Amiss. I’m John.”

Amos returned the wave. “Nice to meet you, John.”

After that, some of my relatives came up to us and we talked for a few minutes. I excused the both of us and we made our way to my bedroom upstairs. We needed to set the bags down and have a moment to ourselves. I wondered what Amos would have to say about everything that happened.

I felt my body relax once the door was closed. After rummaging through his backpack, Amos just stood there, a satisfied smile on his face. He wore a pair of jeans and a short-sleeved collared shirt. He looked good even in casual clothing. His torso was long and lean, and the sleeves of the shirt hugged his arms seductively.

“Russ,” he said in a low voice. “This might not be the appropriate timing, but I need to fuck you.”

“What?” He couldn’t be serious. Twenty of my family members were a floor below us, and this was the time he felt prepared to fuck me? He made his way closer to me, reaching out to squeeze one of my nipples through the fabric of my t-shirt. Ever since the piercings healed a few months ago, they’d become an extra-sensitive source of arousal. I was already getting hard, and he’d barely touched me. “Amos, we can’t,” I whined.

“You don’t want this?” he asked.

“I mean—Amos,” I said, trying to make a sensible decision. But his free hand found its way to my crotch, rubbing my dick gently through the fabric as he continued to work my nipple with his other hand. I closed my eyes, tilting my head back a bit.

“They all couldn’t believe their eyes,” Amos whispered, his voice clear and dripping with lust. Him wanting me so badly was making me feel valuable again. I wanted this more than anything, to be what he wanted. “Your dad doesn’t mince words, does he? ‘Damn, boy. You’ve got more ass than your momma.’”

He turned me around and we stood looking at our reflection in the mirror above the dresser in my room. He didn’t need to say anything. He simply needed to explore my body with his hands to let me know what he was thinking. The way his hands sat under my chest, holding each fatty pec in his strong hands, squeezing them, jiggling them. My nipples were as hard as my dick at this point, and I had no intention of stopping Amos anymore. Not like I ever really would’ve in the first place. He had the control. He always had, even when I thought I was making a choice, Amos was pulling the strings.

His hands caressed my stomach, cupping the bottom of my gut and holding the weight of it up before letting it drop. It was solid from the two hours of snacking, but it was usually firm. He squeezed it again and again in different sections, inspecting every piece of fat he’d managed to pack on my body.

He moved one hand away from my belly, and I could hear the buckle of his belt being undone. Then I felt his hardness pressing into my back, warm and incredibly stiff. I saw him slip a condom and a tiny bottle of lube from the front pocket of his jeans. He set them on the dresser before shimmying out of his pants. I could hear the buckle of his belt hit the floor so I knew his pants must have been around his ankles. He positioned his fingers in the waistband of my sweats and tugged gently, still pressing against me. I watched him closely in the mirror as he worked, my heart nearly beating out of my chest. I had wanted this since the day we met, and it was really going to happen. He tried pulling the sweats down, but the fabric got stuck around my thighs. I wiggled a little, causing the sweatpants to drop lower and allowing me to spread my legs a little bit further apart.

He placed his hands on my hips and I leaned forward, resting my palms on the top of the dresser. He gave my ass a smack and I could feel the sting of his palm resonate throughout my entire body. “Oh god,” I breathed.

“To think you’ve gotten this big in a year,” he said. “It only makes me wonder how much bigger I can make you.”

“You want me to get bigger?” I asked, losing myself in the foreplay.

“I know you’re not that tall, but you could get to at least 400 pounds and get around fine.”

“425,” I countered.

“450.”

He reached for the bottle of lube and opened it effortlessly. He squeezed some of the liquid onto his fingers and his dick, coating his member completely before spreading my cheeks to have access to my asshole. Slowly, he touched me with one finger, sliding it in gently. He worked my hole with the one finger for a few moments before sliding in another. His breathing was deep and intense, his face serious.

“I’ve got to put it in, Russ,” he said, looking at my face in the mirror. “Is that okay?”

I just nodded. He held one cheek in his hand, his dick in the other. He guided himself inside of me, the tip entering me gently. He stayed that way for a moment, not moving a muscle. I knew it was so he wouldn’t hurt me, but I felt perfectly fine. I needed more. I needed all of him inside of me. I pushed my ass against his front, taking in a majority of his dick in the process.

“Aw, fuck,” he muttered as I pounded my ass against his thighs. He gave my ass a loud slap. I was salivating. I could feel the pools of spit in my mouth, and I swallowed as not to make a mess. Every time Amos let me ejaculate this past year, some sort of dessert was involved. I couldn’t help but crave some sort of sweet treat. What I wouldn’t give for a doughnut or one of those Banana Cream Pie cupcakes. I pulled forward and pushed back again and again, his dick hitting what I could only assume to be my prostate. I was in a simple black jock, my dick barely cradled in the front cup, leaking pre-cum profusely. “Whoa, Russ. You don’t have to rush.”

“It feels so good, Amos,” I moaned. “I love your dick.” He just smirked, allowing me to continue my back-and-forth motion. We were at it for nearly ten minutes when Amos came. My dick was dribbling so much, when I went to reposition it, cum shot all over the mirror and dresser.

“Damn, Russ.”

“Amos, I’m hungry.”

We got cleaned up after that and headed back downstairs. I was utterly dickmatized. Whatever my family talked to me about went in one ear and out the other. I just wanted to eat and get fucked again, but one of those things was too risky to attempt a second time, so I simply stuffed my face. Bobby walked up to me as I licked some chicken grease off my fingers. He just shook his head, chuckling to himself.

“What?” I asked. I was closer to Bobby than my oldest brother, so I really was worried about what he had to say about this whole situation.

“You’re not really the little brother around here anymore, are you?”

“I guess not,” I answered, laughing myself. Leave it to him to make a joke. I appreciated it.

“You and the white dude—Amos,” he clarified, to show respect, “are into some freaky shit. You know we could kind of hear y’all thumping around up there, right?”

“Aw, well, that’s my bad, not his.” I did kind of take over up there. Hopefully they just heard the thumping and not anything we were saying.

“And I’m not judging,” he added, throwing up his hands. “You seem happier like this. He’s got to have something to do with that, yeah?”

Looking over at Amos, who was talking to Terry and his wife, I couldn’t help but notice that he fit in perfectly, even in a house full of people who were very different than he was. He did take care of me and make me feel valued. Reflecting on how long it took for us to actually meet up, I could kick myself for thinking that Amos could be anything less than amazing. He was my home now, my family. In one incredible year, my life would forever be changed for the better. And hey, maybe Amos would really get me to 450 (but seriously, that probably was less of sex-talk and more of a promise. Amos was always a man of his word).

“Yeah,” I said, “I feel like when I’m with him, it’s where I belong.”

The End!

#gainer stories #gainer fiction #gainer story #fatfiction #gainerfic #gainerstory #gay feeder #gay feedee #weight gain

15 notes · View notes

adiscoveringsoul · 2 months

Text

A quick run down of my own beliefs:

When we say "oneness of G-d", to me that means the miracle of existence, that we are all intricately connected as a circle of life, is G-d. I don't look for a supernatural, omnipotent, judging being. I look at the miracle that is life. And I toast to it daily.

I'm a zionist, of the strictest definition of the word. Jews have the right to self-determination in their ancestral homeland. Period.

My belief in zionism doesn't mean that I think no one else has the right to self-determination in that same land. It is the homeland for many peoples who descend from the Levant.

I believe that all peoples, of all nationalities, religions, races, should be able to live peacefully side by side.

I believe whole heartedly in a two state solution, in which both Israelis and Palestinians have their own governments who work side by side to maintain peace in the area.

I also believe whole heartedly that there cannot be peace in the area so long as Hamas exists.

I don't believe that Israel is committing genocide. The intent isn't there. The intent has been shown again and again that Israel wants the destruction of Hamas, not of Palestine as a whole.

Hamas, however, lays out genocidal intent towards all Jews in their own charter.

I believe Hamas intentionally hides behind their own civilians. It has admitted to seeing all civilians as martyrs for the cause, and therefore no one can really be considered and innocent civilian by Hamas. I believe that Hamas is very clever and knows that every civilian "martyred" makes Israel look worse to Western leftists.

I believe Hamas is preying on culturally Christian Westerners who have been socialized with the casual antisemitism of the church.

I mourn the lives falling victim to Hamas, Palestinians and Israelis alike. As I said before, the very existence of life is a miracle. Each one of our lives is prescious. I don't take their loss in a time of war lightly.

I believe there is an alarming rise in antisemitism, globally, thanks to the tactics of Hamas and the millennia long lies of the Christian church regarding Jews.

I believe a lot of people, on both sides, are full of shit. And what I mean by this, is that if you are incapable of examining your own thoughts and opinions and asking yourself if you've left out nuance or could potentially be wrong... you're full of shit. Ask yourself, now, today if you are full of shit. And then try to do better. I do this a lot. It's why I'm here laying out my beliefs that I've gone rounds about.

Jews are encouraged to question everything; from G-d to themselves. This is something that I believe makes us strong. And I think everyone should embrace it. (This applies to the point above. But I think deserves its own bullet because I find it that important.)

Your existence is a miracle. Our capability of nuance is a miracle. Let's embrace it. Let's remember the humanity in each other. Let's question ourselves, our echo chambers, the inherent biases we've been taught.

#jewblr #jumblr #nuance #the world is complicated #don't simplify it into us vs them

19 notes · View notes

sleevesareforlosers · 2 months

Text

Haven't seen any posting about it but Feb 14, 2024, Canada, Australia, and Aotearoa (New Zealand) jointly issued a statement calling for ceasefire. Full text of the Canadian release follows:

The Prime Ministers of Australia, Canada and New Zealand today issued the following statement on reports of Israel’s planned military operation in Rafah. We are gravely concerned by indications that Israel is planning a ground offensive into Rafah. A military operation into Rafah would be catastrophic. About 1.5 million Palestinians are taking refuge in the area, including many of our citizens and their families. With the humanitarian situation in Gaza already dire, the impacts on Palestinian civilians from an expanded military operation would be devastating. We urge the Israeli government not to go down this path. There is simply nowhere else for civilians to go. There is growing international consensus. Israel must listen to its friends and it must listen to the international community. The protection of civilians is paramount and a requirement under international humanitarian law. Palestinian civilians cannot be made to pay the price of defeating Hamas. An immediate humanitarian ceasefire is urgently needed. Hostages must be released. The need for humanitarian assistance in Gaza has never been greater. Rapid, safe and unimpeded humanitarian relief must be provided to civilians. The International Court of Justice has been clear: Israel must ensure the delivery of basic services and essential humanitarian assistance and must protect civilians. The Court’s decisions on provisional measures are binding. We are clear that a sustainable ceasefire is necessary to finding a path towards securing lasting peace for Israelis and Palestinians. Any ceasefire cannot be one sided. Hamas must lay down its arms and release all hostages immediately. We again unequivocally condemn Hamas for its terror attacks on Israel on October 7. Ultimately, a negotiated political solution is needed to achieve lasting peace and security. Australia, Canada, and New Zealand remain steadfast in their commitment to a two-state solution, including the creation of a Palestinian state alongside Israel, where Palestinians and Israelis live side by side in peace, security, and dignity.

#it kind of sucks. like to be clear backing the two state solution and the stressing of a two-way ceasefire is bullshit #bc palestinians have been ruled as having the right to resist occupation by any means necessary #and the two state solution is a continuance of colonial violence and the conditions that lead to this anyway. but pressure is always helpfu #palestine #israel #gaza #current events #canpoli #aus politics #nz poli

28 notes · View notes

kenobihater · 11 months

Text

javert is WRONG: the thesis of les mis is that legality and morality aren't synonymous!

i just found the internet's most unbelieveably dogshit hottake that makes anything woobifying javert written by Die Girlies Auf Tumblr Und Twitter galaxy brained in comparison. rest is below a cut because i got Wordy in my goal of ripping this motherfucker a new one.

The point about “fault” is very important here. Following Rousseau, Hugo believes that the poor become criminals out of necessity. They “fall” (i.e., become poor) and then become morally “degraded.” Therefore, our response to crime should be “charity,” not punishment. This is a classic Romantic view that became the basis for modern liberalism. According to Rousseau, people are basically good and are corrupted by society, committing crime only out of ignorance and desperation; the solution to crime, then, is education and welfare. Christians obviously worry that this view has no place for the doctrine of original sin, and conservatives object to this view because it leaves out personal responsibility for crime.

i know this is a christian publication but the concept of original sin even factoring into criminality and criminal justice genuinely pisses me off. stop forcing your shitty worldview that everyone is popped outta the womb an evil sinner, i beg. the seperation of church and state is a vital part of democracy. also, you can believe people are shaped by society and driven to crime through desperation without taking away personal agency. those two things are not contradictory.

If I am right about the Rousseau subtext, then Javert is not necessarily a villain; he’s just a conservative, albeit a liberal caricature of a conservative. There are two good examples of a liberal bias in Les Mis. First, notice that Valjean’s position in his society is roughly analogous to an illegal immigrant in our society. When he leaves the prison, Valjean can’t get work because he doesn’t have the right papers. He’s an undocumented worker. In a scene from the musical cut from the film, a farmer allows Valjean to work for him, but then only pays him half as much as the other laborers. The farmer reasons, “You broke the law….Why should you get the same as honest men?”

i've never seen anyone, even javert fans, try and argue he isn't a villain. this is breaking new ground here, folks. it's a hell of an assertion, but it's demonstrably false. jean valjean is the main character. we root for him and wish to see him succeed. javert is hunting him for the entire narrative. thus, he is the antagonist. there may be some moral ambiguity on both their parts, but he structurally is the villain and that is a narrative fact.

next, as an american i am fucking BEGGING on my HANDS and KNEES for other americans to learn about the differing political terms for different countries and times if they are speaking about them with any supposed credibility. i'm not asking you to memorize every country's parties and political intricacies, but at least acknowledge that even if there is some overlap between 21st century american conservatism and 19th century french politics, that there is no one-to-one analogy!! modern american christian conservatism is a consequence of hundreds of years of unique geopolitics and religion stewing together, and you can say similar things about french politics of the time! you CANNOT just say shit like "javert is a liberal caricature of a conservative" without sounding like an utter clown because hugo was not an american liberal and javert is not an american conservative. now, if you were to alter your language a bit and say something like "javert is a leftist caricature of an arch-conservative," you'd sound less foolish (hugo's politics are hard to pin down but leftist is i believe the best label for him at the time of LM's publication. and to my understanding javert isn't really a fervent arch-conservative but it is at least a plausible reading bc he's a traditionalist, deeply religious cop and 19th century french arch-conservativism actually existed in 19th century france (shocker, i know!)). but that change in language would require actual intellect and effort to learn about other times, places, and worldviews on the part of the author, and judging by his ignorant politics, something tells me he's lacking that!

then there's the bit about illegal immigration. hoo BOY is this fucking stupid. jean valjean is a white, culturally catholic, working class french male citizen. he's an everyman of the time, his name and story of class struggle couldn't be more generic unless he was named john doe or jean dupont (the french equivalent) from nowheresville, france. hugo had a point here, and that is that as a member of the wretched poor, les misérables, valjean, representing a large swath of the french populace, is so removed from education and self reflection and truly living life that he's more akin to an animal or an object, that he's so beat down by the daily grind that he verges on inhuman. this is only magnified by his time in toulon. i'll stop there, but it is very important in jean valjean's story that he's impoverished, yes, but a french citizen. he is as french as the king, but treated like dirt because of his social status and criminal record. this sets up a dichotomy in the france of 1832 between the wretched poor and those with privilege, which is an important part of the novel.

the issue of "illegal immigration" both in france and america is a modern one. there was still bigotry and xenophobia, obviously, but the discourse around the intersections of border control, the nation state, and citizenship is a very modern one. to say "valjean's position in his society is roughly analogous to an illegal immigrant in our society" is ignorant. yes, both jean valjean and many undocumented immigrants are faced with similar abuses, but that does not mean it's intended by hugo to be a reading of the text or political commentary because let me restate this: 21ST CENTURY AMERICAN POLITICS DIDN'T EXIST IN 19TH CENTURY FRANCE!

also, valjean is the opposite of undocumented. he has his yellow papers, which are quite literally documents that are the root cause of the daily discrimination he faces, hence why him ripping them up is a radical act of freeing himself from the control of an unjust state. i don't even know how you miss this, it's stressed in the movie musical multiple times.

“Men like you can never change,” he tells Valjean. But Javert is not simply being prejudiced here. He knows from his own experience that it is possible for the poor to pull themselves up by their bootstraps. Javert, too, was born in poverty. He is “from the gutter,” as he puts it, but he embraced law and made something of himself.

oh, of course the bootstraps ideology rears its ugly head. not even gonna waste my breath on this one other than to call it stupid and wrong. all javert made himself was a class traitor and a bootlicker, and that's honestly tragic.

Consider a second example of liberal bias. The character of Fantine is designed to elicit the viewer’s sympathy for “welfare mothers.” Fantine, a young, unwed mother in Valjean’s factory, faces persecution from her coworkers. The factory foreman expresses a conservative attitude toward charity: “At the end of the day, you get nothing for nothing.”

this part. this part was so unbelievably cruel and so far removed from the empathy that this narrative bleeds that i had to step back from writing this and take a smoke break. firstly, fantine is NOT a stand in for "welfare mothers", which is, once again, a modern conservative strawman! the welfare state did not exist in 19th century france. there was little to no support for mothers in fantine's position, and to my knowledge, none stemming from the state. hugo was writing her character to bring to light the unfairness of her position. she had a lover who left her flat out, with a child to care for and no financial support. she was ostracized, eventually fired, and resorted to survival sex work.

Fantine shouldn’t expect special treatment, but rather should take responsibility for the consequences of her own sexual license.

fuck you, john. where in the text did she ask for "special treatment". where in the text did she do ANYTHING but take responsibility for her child. she sold her hair. she sold her teeth. she sold her body. she got sick because of her living conditions. she died. all out of love for her child. also, framing children as "a consequence" is disgusting, and you should be ashamed of yourself and reflect on why you think that's an alright way to view a living, breathing, human being. if you don't wanna take my word for it, psalm 127:3 clearly states "children are a gift from the lord; they are a reward from him," so your stance is decidedly unbiblical. children aren't punishment.

Likewise, when Fantine turns to prostitution to feed her child, Javert is unmoved by excuses. Valjean’s family was starving, and Fantine’s daughter was sick, but these facts don’t excuse them for breaking the law. Theft and prostitution are wrong, and it is Javert’s duty as police officer to arrest them.

how is theft to feed a starving child immoral. how is sex work to ensure your child lives immoral. give me ONE reason aside from your and javert's religious worldviews that either of those things is wrong. "but the bread didn't belong to valjean!" and would inaction, watching his nephew die simply because a windowpane and empty pockets separated him from a piece of bread be more moral? is watching a child die when you believe you can save them the better option? the whole point of this damn book is that legality is NOT synonymous with morality. javert may have the legal high ground, but he does NOT have the moral high ground, and when he realizes this, the thesis of the book, he fucking kills himself! for an example outside the text to perhaps get it through your thick skull: slavery was legal. biblical, even! does that mean it's morally right? no!

Thus Les Mis is designed to get us to see Javert’s conservatism as cruel and to elicit sympathy for Hugo’s liberal social policies. It should be noted, however, that Les Mis is a caricature of the conservative position. Conservatives agree that we ought to treat the poor with dignity and compassion. They think that compassion programs, however, should be administered by the church instead of the state, and they think true dignity requires personal responsibility and submission to the law.

how can javert both be an exaggerated, cruel conservative caricature and be right? i'd argue he's both an accurate portrayal of the inherent cruelty and misanthropy present in the politics of the political right, and that he's decidedly wrong as proven in the text. jean valjean is a good man, despite it all, but javert couldn't see that because of his worldview and chose to relentlessly hound him until he finally realized his mistake, a realization that overcame him so strongly that his only solution in his mind was to kill himself!

and do conservatives actually agree they should treat the poor with dignity and respect? it's in the bible, sure, which christian conservatives hold as the absolute truth, but in this very article you, a christian conservative, have expressed nothing but contempt and cruelty for undocumented immigrants, for unwed mothers, for thieves and sex workers. for les misérables - the wretched poor. and why shouldn't the state handle "compassion programs" as you call them? the gov't is electable and manageable (in theory), unlike the beast of untraceable wealth and power that is the church. we don't live in a theocracy, so the only reliable way to ensure people get the help they deserve is through the state, which can actually be held accountable for these expectations (again, in theory). that's more than you can say for the church.

The fact that Les Mis contradicts evangelical theology does not mean apologists shouldn’t use it—on the contrary. We can help non-Christian fans of the musical see how the vision that draws them toward the story can only be fulfilled in Christ.

his conculsion is LAUGHABLE. personally, the "vision that drew me to the story" at age twelve was my attraction to men. i'm a flaming homosexual, you see, and a transgender one at that. the overwhelming majority of musical theater fans i've encountered are some variety of queer. at age 22, ten years later, i'm drawn to the story still partially because i find these characters attractive and magnetic, but much more so for the literary and socialist political value i find in the narrative. i'm an unrepentant leftist as well, as are literally every other les mis fan i've ever met (besides yourself, of course). i've found more fulfillment through reading les misérables than i have in my exploration of the new testament, and i'm not even done with the book yet!

i don't really know how to conclude this other to point and laugh at john and his publictaion, because somehow i stumbled upon a conservative fan of les mis and the lack of self awareness is more baffling than i could have ever imagined it being

#len's meta #les mis #les mis meta #les miserables #les misérables #les miserables meta #les misérables meta #javert #javert meta #god this took forever to write up bc i had to keep taking mental health breaks. it ticked me off THAT much

75 notes · View notes