#upper Hungary

[umlewis]

lewis hamilton is interviewed on media day, hungary - july 20, 2023

[dappy-dappernette]

Wow it's the Frying Pangle Trio (in fanon at least). /j

[thebrightestwitchofherage]

A brief History of Mizrahi Jews in Arabic countries and Their expulsion

A\N: While I am an Ashkenazi Jew, I have done A LOT of research, and have both Iraqi friends and relatives to corroborate this with. Also, I'm petty - an Iraqi user who comments regularly on my posts seems to forget about his own country's Jewish history... Well, I hope he forgot instead of the more likely reality: It seems like Arabic people nowadays aren't aware of Jewish history in their countries since they either killed to expelled them all. Thus is born the constant argument that all Jews originated in Europe and are merely settlers in the Middle East.

I realized that what may be obvious to me won't be obvious to others since I'm a history nerd who grew up in Israel with plenty of rich archeological evidence and resources surrounding me. I'm happy to make these posts in hopes of educating others and contributing my part to ending antisemitism and prejudice. ___________________

You might have seen the following picture in one of my previous posts:

It is said that a picture is worth a thousand words. Unfortunately, in this case, it concludes hundreds of years of discrimination, violence, and exile for Mizrahi Jews. * It is important to note that numbers are slightly varied between sources, but the meaning is clear.

In a nutshell- all throughout history, the fate of Jewish people in countries where they weren't the religious majority was the same:

Discriminatory laws, blood libels, being blamed for disasters > violence & murder > Pogroms * > and eventually- exile or mass murder AKA ethnic cleansing \ genocide.

Pogrom-  the term refers to violent attacks by local non-Jewish populations on Jews in the Russian Empire and in other countries.

Every Jewish community has its own Pogrom. While my side of the family might immediately think of the Kristallnacht or persecution & pogroms in Hungary, it is different for Jews from different backgrounds. You can read about a few cases of forced conversion to Islam here.

A brief History of the land of Israel

The land of Israel has always been considered a strategic passageway, and so many empires throughout history have conquered it:

* I simply cannot accurately write 3000+ years of Jewish history in the land of Israel. I found that this video summarizes it perfectly.

Exile from the land of Israel

Jews were exiled from the land of Israel numerous times since the Assyrian empire conquered Israel in 732 BCE, to what we call "the diaspora" גולה. It was not by choice and we were persecuted everywhere we went.

Jews were not allowed to legally return to Israel until 1948 when the British mandate over the land of Israel ended and Israel was formed. Yes, even during the Holocaust.

The Jewish answer to exile - Aliyah עליה There have been 5 waves of illegal immigration from all over the world to the land of Israel before 1948, recorded in modern times.

Chart taken from Wikipedia (their chart was the best I could find in English)

Forced Conversion

Whether in conquered Israel or in exile, Jews were often forced to convert to either Christianity or Islam. The choice was between conversion or death.

*You can read more about some of the forced conversion of Jews during history here and here.

First Case study- The last jew of Peki'in, Margalit Zinati

Peki'in is an ancient village in the upper Galilee, Northern Israel. Nowadays, its population is mostly Druze.

Peki'in has had a Jewish presence since the Second Temple period, until Arab riots in the 1930s*. Meet the remaining member of the Zinatis, the only family who returned. (aish.com)

*Read more on the Arab riots of the 1930s here and here. Margalit is currently the last Jew living in the village of Peki'in . She is the last direct descendent of the Zinati Cohen family. The Zinati family's origins are dated back to the Second Temple era. The former Jewish community of Peki'in maintained a presence there since the Second Temple period (516 BCE – 70 CE). That is when the polytheistic Persian Empire conquered the land of Israel. For reference- that was approximately 500 years before Jesus was even born! "During which the Second Temple stood in the city of Jerusalem. It began with the return to Zion and subsequent reconstruction of the Temple in Jerusalem, and ended with the First Jewish–Roman War and the Roman siege of Jerusalem." (Wikipedia)

As an adult, Margalit chose to not marry so she could stay in Peki'in and continue her family's Jewish legacy in Peki'in. She later became in charge of the ancient synagogue in the village and turned her basement into a visiting center \ museum of Jewish history in Peki'in- "House of Zinati". in 2018, she lit up a torch as part of Israel's 70th Independence Day Torch lighting ceremony (which is considered an honor given to influential and trailblazing people).

-Margalit Zinati pictured in the Peki'in Synagogue yard, 2016 Picture taken from Wikipedia, uploaded by Deror Avi.

Second Case study - Iraqi Jews (Babylonian Jews \ יְהוּדִים בָּבְלִים)

Iraqi Jews are one of the oldest documented Jewish communities living in the Middle East. It is estimated that they originated around 600 BC.ת

The Farhud الفرهود הפרהוד

Unfortunately, Iraqi Jewish history ended in the same pattern I've described earlier. The Farhud was the violent mass dispossession against the Jewish population of Baghdad, Iraq between 1-2 June 1941. was the pogrom or the "violent dispossession" that was carried out against the Jewish population of Baghdad, Iraq, on 1–2 June 1941, It immediately followed the British victory in the Anglo-Iraqi War.

Background for the Farhud:

WW2- At the time, many Arabic countries in the Middle East agreed with Nazi ideology.

History of violence towards Jews.

The Anglo-Iraqi War (2–31 May 1941) - caused rising tension, and as usual, it was turned on the Jews.

personal family ties to the Farhud My relative was born in 1939 in Iraq, to a big upper-class Jewish family. Unfortunately, the mass exile of Jews in the 1950s didn't skip her family: she was stripped of her belongings and exiled to Israel along with her family. In the 1950s there were approximately 140,000 Iraqi Jews. As of 2021, there are only 4 left.

----------------- Please feel free to add anything I missed in the notes. And as usual - remember I am a human being. If you cuss or harass me, I will block and report you.

______________

Online Sources: * https://www.israelhayom.co.il/article/865383 - Hebrew article, Title means "Sad ending to a magnificent history: Only 4 Jews left in Iraq".

What was the Farhud https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Farhud

History of the Jewish community in Baghdad https://cojs.org/the_jewish_community_in_baghdad_in_the_eighteenth_century-_zvi_yehuda-_nehardea-_babylonian_jewry_heritage_center-_2003/

What are Pogroms?https://encyclopedia.ushmm.org/content/en/article/pogroms?gclid=Cj0KCQiAkeSsBhDUARIsAK3tiedM7DuwIaSQX-kRxvXTgCDxN6-zqeo_DNNFgyanSYGyGOhwu_0vfrkaAg6REALw_wcB

The last Jew of Peki'in, Margalit Zinati https://aish.com/the-last-jew-of-pekiin/

Arab riots of 1930s- https://www.gov.il/en/Departments/General/ben_zvi_30 https://www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org/the-1936-arab-riots

Israel's history from ancient times & timeline : https://www.travelingisrael.com/timeline-land-israel/ https://www.youtube.com/watch?app=desktop&v=iiUIWnU-Ofk

Second Temple era - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Second_Temple_period

Forced conversion of Jews across history- https://www.jstor.org/stable/j.ctt18mvnct.7?seq=4

https://academic.oup.com/book/32113/chapter-abstract/268043723?redirectedFrom=fulltext

[two-white-butterflies]

no time to die | c16 | part two

Description: After a messy breakup with Charles Leclerc. You resort to feuding with him online. In where, he hates your guts.

Pairing: charles leclerc/actress!reader

part one | part three

(ONE YEAR LATER)

YNMakesItSparkle: New Years Day 🌙 announcing my first ever single. I know that it's been a while since ya'll heard my voice. I remember singing with Miley and Selena down in Disney. So glad to be back inside the studio! 💜

129 comments 1,292,180 likes

watchasay29: Is this about Charles?

taylorswift: I'm so excited for this 💙💙💙💙

selenagomez: Patiently seated.

charlesuniversewags: this is about charles 100% idk if she's gonna make him seem like the bad guy.

(IBIZA, SPAIN 2023)

"Charles, let's get married - let's settle down." you continued speaking, following him around the casita with a glass filled with Moscato. Ever since his incident in Formula One, you haven't stopped thinking about your future together. You couldn't sleep at night knowing that there was a possibility that everything you built would come crumbling down.

A small sigh escapes his mouth; marriage was the least of his concern. He still wanted to win a championship - he wanted to be something that you could boast around your upper-echelon friends. "I'm not ready, bebe." he sighed, taking another sip of his merlot.

You were stark contrasts of each other.

He liked everything that tasted bitter - and you adored sweet. He was darkness, rest in the middle of paradise and you were light. You complimented each other properly - but now you weren't sure.

"I-I know, but please - think about it." you stuttered. You always dreamed about marriage, not in a dreamy fairytale way but in a way that included living in happiness with the person that you adored. "I'm not sure if I want to get married, ever." he scoffed, placing his glass loudly on the countertop.

"Why?" your eyebrows merged into each other. "Why?" he repeated your statement - finding the question to be tone deaf.

"All everyone talks about is you and how wonderful your projects are. The articles, they don't even call me by name - I'm just 'your boyfriend' - and what will happen after we get married? Will I be Y/N L/N's husband? When I've got all of these accomplishments to myself." he responded in a bitter tone - telling you that there was something bothering him.

"What do you mean?" your frown deepened, seeing fire underneath his eyes. Did he hate you all these years?

"I'm tired of being your shadow, that's what I mean." his voice softened, seeing your eyes blurry with tears. "You aren't my shadow - when I came into this relationship with you, I wasn't even an actress." you said to yourself, the truth quickly settling into you.

"- and maybe that's the problem. I don't need another person who's competing with my success, I need someone to comfort me in my races." he expressed his opinion, unable to understand that he was stampeding upon your own.

"I've done all of that, Charles."

"It's not enough!" his voice raised again, a storm brewing in his mind. A small chuckle escaped your lips - and you tried to keep your composure. 'Grace under pressure' you thought.

"You know what the truth is, Charles?" you grinned, reaching for your handbag on the chair beside you. "You feel emasculated because I'm better than you." you gritted your teeth, straightening your dress until it didn't have any wrinkles.

"You know I feel really bad because I came to this conversation seeing a future with you. But now I'm glad that you had another thing in mind." your eyes narrowed, quickly walking away and slamming the door to his apartment loudly.

YNMakesItSparkle: me and my favorite driver 💜

312 comments 1,912,129 likes

maxverstappen1: 💪🏽

carlossainz55: Hungary GP? - YNMakesItSparkle: Totally 💜

reyna219: YOU ARE SO BEAUTIFUL

YNMakesItSparkle: Forever Ferrari 💜❤️

812 comments 1,231,100 likes

carlandouniverse2: this is enough confirmation 😭

wantingmeeee1: Are you back with Charles?

landonorris: Mclaren needs you here 😎 - YNMakesItSparkle: Really?

imsebastianstan: You didn't bring me? - YNMakesItSparkle: the airline had a no-hand-carry policy, really sorrrrryyy 😁

Charles could recognize you a mile away. His fingers could even feel the fabric that clung into your body - he missed you, and he knew that you deserved better. The pressure of not being a good enough driver was getting to him - forcing him to resort to look for something to blame. At first, it was his company - but when he saw your success - he chose to blame that.

But now after six-months of therapy, he could see properly. He could see that he was the problem. "I listened to your new song," he swiftly made his way towards you - a bottle of beer in his right hand. He missed you - but he couldn't entertain the thought of being with you again. He believed that he wasn't good enough for that.

"Did you like you like it?" you gazed up at him - staring deep into his eyes until he could feel himself leaning down to inhale more of your rosemary scent. "Amazing, and the chords were familiar." he raised an eyebrow - teasing you softly.

He'd be content with being friends.

"Sue me if you dare, Leclerc." you pouted, knowing that the chords to that song resembled something that he wrote for you a few years ago. "I won't - not when you made it sound better." he smiled, flicking a strand of your hair away from your face. "Really?" you began to ask.

Unable to deny the palpable chemistry between you.

"Why don't you play for us in the afterparty?" he offered, knowing that it would be held inside his home - and his piano needed a little dusting. "Sounds like a plan," you licked your lips, slowly moving away from him.

SELENA GOMEZ'S PRIVATE TWITTER

Don't get back with ur ex challenge, but you're fighting against @YNMakesItSparkle

YN'S PRIVATE TWITTER: STOPPPP

TAYLOR'S PRIVATE TWITTER: I'm going home because it's a losing game ;)

DANIEL RICCIARDO'S PRIVATE TWITTER: HELPP

@perihelioneclipse @hiraethrhapsody @omgsuperstarg @reidsworld @charles-eclair16 @ferraribabe @cl16gf @yourrrrrprefffffect @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @fdl305 @incoherenciass @sassyheroneckgiant @ietss @newlifeforus

[whorekneecentral]

Come Home

Dominik Szoboszlai x Fem!Reader

Warnings: separated for the holidays, staying up late, waking up your partner for a selfish needs, phone sex, dialogue heavy, masturbation (self - fem and male), mutual orgasm, some scandalous things that on both ends, dom!reader for a second there, lots of pet names.

Word Count: 1,573

Author's Note: okay this is my first full fic for dom, I had only written like 2 blurbs or him prior so hopefully it's okay <3

merry smutmas series

--

The two of you are separated over the holidays and you’re missing each other a little too much to keep this going. 

London was rather cold this time of the year, not quite as cold as Germany, but still cold.

In your boyfriend's recent move to Liverpool, you had joined him, which meant a new apartment, a new city and a new job. Your family was originally from London, so it wasn't much of a difference that you had moved back but Dominik's family was not.

Your boyfriend have gone home to Hungary to see his family for the holidays, and while you wish you had been able to join him, you were stuck doing last-minute work as everyone else had booked the holidays off and you were one of the last hires - automatic grounds for you having to stay in doing the grunt work.

It wasn't so bad seeing that the time difference between Hungary and London was only an hour. Dom had always been an early sleeper, so when you got home nearing midnight and you finally settled into bed at some point after that.

You couldn't help but text him anyways.

To Dom: hi my love 

It was 2am for you and you couldn’t sleep but you figured Dom would be sleeping. Hence your surprise when he answered. 

From Dom: hi baby 

To Dom: you’re awake? Shocking. 

From Dom: barely, I heard the phone buzz. are you okay? 

To Dom: yeah, just couldn’t sleep. 

It takes him a minute to answer, you figured he might have fallen asleep.  You send another message, it’s selfish when you know the noise will wake up - he had always been a light sleeper - but you missed him. 

To Dom: I miss you. 

From Dom: I miss you more. 

To Dom: that’s cheesy. don’t one up me, dom. 

From Dom: only you’d think that. 

To Dom: can I call you? Just for a minute? I wanna hear your voice. 

From Dom: of course babe 

The phone rings quietly, resting on the pillow next to your ear as you wait for your boyfriend to pick up. You hear the click of the line, "hi love," he whispers, the sleep evident in his voice.

You feel a bit bad for waking him up but you were but a woman and selfish one at that.

"Hi Dom," you whisper back, "I miss you."

"I miss you too, darling."

You sighed, your hand stretched over the empty half of the bed - his half of the bed. "It's hard to sleep without you, I'm so used to you suffocating me."

It was no secret that Dom was affectionate, even in his sleep. The man clung to your side and at first, you hated it and his furnace like body but you had gotten used to it after a few days. As much as you complained, you found it hard to sleep without him now.

Dominik smiles, a soft chuckle slipping past his lips. "I wish I could be there too but I doubt you'd be sleeping if I was there, my love."

"Yeah?" You find yourself smiling, Dom had no idea what he was opening up by saying that. "What would we be doing instead?"

"Well," he whispers, it sounds like he's shifting on his end. "Perhaps what you had on would end up on the floor.. or maybe my hands would slip under it, touching everywhere you want me too."

"And where would that be?"

Dom hums, taking a moment to think. "Your tits, or maybe I'd drag a finger down your stomach to your hips, biting that sensitive little spot by your upper thigh? Maybe I'll skip all of that and bury my face in your cunt, what do you think?"

He can hear the way your breath hitches, the man smiles to himself.

You clear your throat, "y-yeah.. that sounds like a good plan."

"Which part, darling?"

"Uh-"

"Use your words, princess. C'mon."

"All of it," you whispered, the man smiling. Dom glances down at the scene before his waist; his hand wrapped around his cock, imagining all the filthy things he could be doing to you if only you were there.

"Dom?" You called out to him, "you still there?"

He lets out a breath, nodding. "Still here babe."

"You got quiet for a minute there. Thought you fell asleep on me."

"Oh no, I'm still here, darling."

Dominik is quiet, his hand moving up and down his cock slowly as he reimagines what he could be doing to you. You find yourself in the same situation; imagining what your boyfriend was doing on the other end of the line, your hand slipping down the front of your panties. 

“Is that why you called?” He asks you softly, his voice pulling you back to reality. “Mhm, missed your pretty face,” you say and Dom smiles. 

Even when you're horny, you're still as charming as the day you met him. 

“I think you miss more than my face, my love.” 

You play dumb, “what do you mean?” And it’s almost like you can see the cocky smile on his face. 

“I think you miss me, y/n. My touch, my hands, my lips, my taste.. my-” 

“Yeah,” you cut him off with a ragged breath. “Everything about you.” Your words cause him to smile to himself.

You rubbed slow circles over your clit. “I was thinking about you,” you tell him, “missing the way your fingers stretch me out, make me feel so full.” 

“Really?” He asks a little too eagerly, mentally kicking himself for sounding so desperate but 3 weeks without you is a long time. 

“Really, baby. Mine don’t feel as good as yours do.” 

Dominik groans, “you can’t tell me that.” 

You bite back a smile, and you’re quiet for a moment before you speak. “Why not? Not enough to get you to touch yourself ? Or did you already start?” 

“You’re horrible,” he huffs, earning a laugh. 

“Oh come on Dom, you’re no fun.” You smile when you hear the movement of his hand on his side. “What are you doing?” You ask him. 

“What do you think I’m doing?” 

“You can’t answer a question with a question, Dominik. I know you know better than that.” 

He groans, irritated that he’s been on the phone for the last 15 minutes, you’ve been spinning him in circles and he has yet to cum. “Either you help me or I hang up, sweetheart.” He tells you, the pet name a dig at you. 

You love to tease him, it was your favourite pastime honestly. “How can I help you if I don’t know what I'm supposed to help you with?” 

“Fuck- y/n, come on. It’s not funny. I can’t stop thinking about you.” He rambles out in one breath. 

“About me? How sweet.” You chuckle, “get your hand wet, baby. I know you didn’t.” 

He hums, moving his hand to spit on it before wrapping it around his cock again. 

You hear the satisfied sigh that leaves his mouth, “that’s better,” you tell him, your own fingers moving a little faster. Your boyfriend is quiet, his hand moving up and down, he can hear the soft whimpers coming from your side of the line, the slightly wet noise filling the silence in between. 

He musters up the energy to speak, “what are you doing?”

“Exactly what you'd be doing if you were here.” You tell him, panties pulled to the side and your own two fingers buried in your pussy. He huffs a breath, “fuck- god I wish I was home.” 

“You’ll be home soon.” 

“Not soon enough.” 

“I miss you,” you tell him, starting your teasing again. “I miss waking up beside you, miss your touch, your arms around me, your mouth, your fingers, your cock.” 

Dominik's brown eyes close, imagining how pretty you looked laid there; legs spread, fingers in you. He could sit there and watch you all day if you let him. 

“Dom,” you sigh, your fingers curling up. “Yeah?” He answers. 

“Feels so fucking good.” 

“I wish I was there,” he admits, hand still moving but a bit faster this time. “Me too,” you hum, eyes closed as your other hand reaches down to rub on your clit.

Both you and Dom were on the edge of orgasm, the tightening knot in your stomach. “Dominik, god, fuck, please.” You ramble out, “yeah me too, baby.” 

Head tossed back into the pillows, eyes fluttering shut as you feel yourself slip over the edge. Your fingers are moving but you barely register the physical feeling of it. His name falls from your lips like a prayer, along with a string of please, yes and all the explicits under the sun. Dominik follows a moment after you; his name coming from you, in that context, imagining how pretty you must look was enough for him. The warm liquid all over his hand and his lower stomach. 

The line goes quiet, Dom breaks the silence as he reaches over to grab a tissue. “Do you have work?” 

You yawn, settling back into bed. “No, have the day off today and tomorrow."

“Good,” he smiles, wiping off his stomach and hand. He tosses the tissue in the trash before settling into bed again. 

You whispered, feeling yourself get more tired as the seconds passed. “Going back to sleep?” 

"Probably, stay with me?" He asks and you hum, turning over to settle on your side. "I love you, Dominik."

He whispers back; "I love you too, y/n."

---

taglist: @nosugarallspice  @evieepepi08 @mimithepooh @koufaxx @dannyramirezwife-simpaccount @topguncultleader @molliemoo3 @aisharmi @mamako23 @ac3may @lewislcver @miahgonzalez16  @books-and-netflix-pls  @wibi96 @bwddermilch @pedrisgatorade  @clarasenchant @sainzluvrr // @trentsfav @trentsmyfave @noturbabe22

[mapsontheweb]

Countries where German is the official language.

by languages.eu

German is a West Germanic language mainly spoken in Western Europe and Central Europe.

It is the most widely spoken and official or co-official language in Germany, Austria, Switzerland, Liechtenstein, and the Italian province of South Tyrol. It is also an official language of Luxembourg and Belgium, as well as a recognized national language in Namibia.

Outside Germany, it is also spoken by German communities in France (Alsace), Czech Republic (North Bohemia), Poland (Upper Silesia), Slovakia (Košice Region, Spiš, and Hauerland), and Hungary (Sopron).

[bellewintersroe]

Sebastian Vettel x RBDesignEngingeer! Reader 18+

Set in 2013 during the GP, Jennifer is fresh out of uni and has made a name for herself within the F1 world. She joins Redbull-Renault as one of their engineer designers and easily fits into the team, forming friendships easily. Most of all, she captures the attention of three time world champion, Sebastian Vettel.

Part 8 - Here is the LINK for the previous chapter. Warning: semi-smut, mentions of grinding on each other in a club, Seb gets a boner lolllll, mentions of alcohol (obviously) and hint towards Sebastian doing something naughty at the end of the chapter 👀. Taglist: @rainerax

My body swayed energetically in time with the music, attempting to keep up an extremely drunk Loretta who was bouncing around, catching the attention of several males. I myself, was horrendously drunk, the room was spinning with the disco lights, and I’d already smashed two glasses on the dance floor. I had no idea what the time was and my phone was tucked deep inside my bag, as I sung and danced along to the club music. Both my hands were full with my drinks, attempting to gulp at least one down, but the liquid was extremely strong. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying rid the taste of the vodka. Some Hispanic music was blaring through the speakers even though we were in Hungary, most people seemed to be on something a little more than alcohol, and so many people were snogging or grinding. When I turned back around it seemed both James and Loretta had found other respective partners.

“Oh.” I winced, nose scrunched. In that moment, I felt an arm wrap around my front, a drink being placed in front of my face. My reactions were slow, but I jumped, knocking the drink, splashing it a little over my cleavage. “Wow, they look… busy!” Luckily, it was Sebastian and I felt my heart flutter. I wiped at my chest. “Oh, sorry, it’s just me.” He giggled, tilting his head over my shoulder slightly. I reached back, running a hand over the back of his head with a laugh as he stumbled slightly, accidentally dropping his glass which smashed down over our feet.

“Seb!” I giggled, feeling him cheekily sneak one out of my hand. He sipped at the alcohol, grimacing slightly as I smiled up to him. “It’s not nice-” he fed me some as I gulped the last of the liquor. This time, Seb politely put the glass on the floor as I gently bobbed to the music. “Dance.” I teased, taking his hand and playfully jiggling him around. “I don’t dance.” He threw an arm over my shoulders. “I’ve seen you dance before.” The back of my shoulder was pressed to his chest as I swayed my hips slightly.

James broke apart from the girl he was snogging, turning his back as she walked away in amusement. He began cheering and yelling, dancing with us both as we sung along to the occasional British hit that would blast. The more I was dancing I could feel my bum brush against Sebastian’s crotch. It burned a fire deep inside my abdomen as one of his hands slowly nudged up over my hip bone, adjusting me a little closer. Oh. That set something off inside of me, when ‘Ignition’ by R Kelly started playing I was having a silly amount of drunken fun. I alternated between singing yelling the words back to James who had no fucking clue what was happening, and swinging my hips back into Sebastian’s.

My left hand held the drink that I hadn’t touched, whilst my right slightly ran over Seb’s hands, feeling his fingers slid up my waist, my stomach, my thighs. Oh my god… I pushed my bum purposefully back, smirking as I gave him a slight glance. I was rolling my hips, dancing semi casually but I could feel the push of his hips up on mine. The music was that loud I couldn’t hear either of us singing along to the music, laughing, grinning. The crowd was moving with us, pushing us further into one another, sweaty body’s grinding together desperate to fill an ache that had existed for a little too long.

As Sebastian’s hand rested on my upper stomach I felt my whole body press properly into his front as I dropped my head back, giggling. I could feel something in his jeans, he was hard, and pressed firmly against me. I couldn’t lie, the sensation went straight to my core, I was turned on, I’d never wanted him or anybody so bad in my whole life.

“You wanna go back to the hotel?” He muttered in my ear as I turned around, tongue pressed to the inside of my cheek. “Yeah.” I held eye contact as he smirked to himself, taking me by the hand and leading me out.

“Woah, woah, woah!” A voice interrupted just as we’d got outside. Sebastian’s fingers tightened around mine slightly as James followed out with two other mechanics. I mentally sighed. “Can we get in the taxi with you?!” He slurred, stumbling forwards. Mine and Sebastian’s hands separated as he caught the drunk boy before he plummeted onto the pavement below. Not a good look, I wondered if there was paparazzi lingering? Glimpsing around, I noticed a few people, but it was early in the morning, I was positive by now they'd have all have gone to bed.

“So much for just us two, hm?” Sebastian knocked me as he sat in the middle seat of the taxi. “I know.” I smiled, purposefully knocking my leg against his. He glanced down, sliding his hand over my thigh, hooking it to the inside of my warm skin as I gulped harshly. If we weren’t fucking tonight- or at least kissing, then I’d be fuming at James for being such a god damn cock blo-

“Oh, I’m gonna be sick…” That’s all I heard for the following two hours. In the end myself and Monty had gone to bed whilst Sebastian and John had to literally carry James to bed. I was left overly frustrated, attempting to imagine what could’ve occurred between Sebastian and I.

The way his hands slid over my thigh, holding onto my bare leg in the car ride bag- his cock was hard as I rubbed up against his jeans, swaying my hips whilst he eagerly pulled me closer into him with his hands that literally covered my hole stomach. Ugh, his hands. His veiny, large hands… I’d spent a little too long purely thinking about his hands for it to be normal. My eyes opened abruptly with the sound of a door opening. My heart was racing and I was a literal breathless gathering my bearings. There was a light shining through into my bedroom, and I calmed down only when I realised it was Sebastian’s room. I heard him shuffle around, close some doors, sighing. Eventually I heard the dip of the bed and remembered we hadn’t shut the doors to our rooms. I wondered if he noticed? Probably not or he would’ve shut it, maybe he would’ve come in. In fact that’s what I hoped for, I even considered pattering in, but I felt frozen with an odd sense of nerves. A couple moments had passed, and I heard Seb let out another deep sigh. One that didn’t sound so annoyed, it sounded more… pleasured. It was only after a few more of the sighs did I realise exactly what Sebastian was doing…

[agendabymooner]

high school in jakarta || pg10 fic

"I couldn't have you sit there and think that you're better 'cause you're older."

Summary: Pierre Gasly was in Los Angeles to attend his girlfriend's record label's festival, Head in the Clouds. Sadly, meeting Ensley’s close friends would also mean that he’d have to meet her high school sweetheart, who he believed he couldn’t compete against until Ensley ensured that his two-day attendance wouldn’t be spoiled by some guy who couldn’t let go of some memories she couldn’t even remember. 

Content warning: Use of explicit language, established relationship, insecure!Pierre needs a hug, smug ex-boyfriend (fictional), mentions of high school romance and nostalgia, brief appearance of Lando Norris, Joji and WillNE, kind of an abrupt ending, fluff??

Note: I need to get this out of my google docs 🤠 enjoy and let me know what you think! xx

masterlist

    Pierre Gasly had always been considered cocky by people who didn’t know him that well. He had a bad reputation when it came to women. His ego always believed that he could be charming or too flirtatious. Too arrogant. In some instances, Charles even had to tell him to get his shit together and make things clear for the woman he was in a situationship with.

But he had an alter ego that he hadn’t met before until Ensley Soleil came along. 

He could admit that how it started was a bit too… complicated. But it wasn’t anything that a courtship couldn’t handle. 

Ensley was celebrating the first year she’d been single since she left her cheating boyfriend, and yes, maybe shading him was too petty — but he went after her first, calling her out for being too busy and… bland? Yeah, those were his words. Celebrating meant that she posted photos of herself backstage before performing at her last concert of the year in Europe — London. 

Then the shitshow began there. 

BACK THEN

Her YouTube channel started in the United Kingdom while she was in university. She could remember connecting with William Lenney when her channel grew, knowing he lived a few tube stops away from her school and flat. Then she gradually continued to sing on the internet and made content with Will and some of his friends until she graduated. Then a year passed, and she became a well-known Asian artist based at Los Angeles after she signed a contract with the American record label 88rising. 

She didn’t know how the algorithm worked in the internet, initially thinking that maybe the comments about her post being “liked by pierregasly” or noticed by an F1 driver were nothing but some prank initiated by her peers. 

At some point, Will had mentioned that he had a friend, who was also a driver in the said sports. Will regularly followed and watched the races on television, attending the race in Silverstone whenever his friend would invite him. She was acquainted with this guy, meeting him once when they celebrated Will’s birthday. Lando Norris was a driver who created content with his peers, including Will himself.

Her sharp memory thankfully had told her to ask him if he knew someone named Pierre Gasly. When Will said yes and asked why, she sent him screenshots of her comment section. He hadn’t responded immediately and when he did, he FaceTimed her and laughed hysterically. 

“Oh my god,” Will howled, unable to stop himself from laughing. “Your post was liked by Pierre!”

“I don’t even know who that is?” Ensley almost shrieked. “William—“

“I know, I know,” Will rolled his eyes, “hang on, let me just…” He then added another contact on the FaceTime call, the person answering after the third ring as Lando looked down on his phone with confusion.

“Oh aren’t you a welcome face,” Lando grinned after seeing Ensley on his screen. Ensley’s eyes narrowed. “How’s it going lads?”

“What time is it in there, mate?” Will asked. Lando was moving around in a room, fixing his things left and right before he leaned his phone against a surface to show his upper body over the table. 

“We’re in Hungary, so it’s like an hour ahead of London…? Yeah an hour,” Lando nodded to himself before Ensley jumped at the sudden drumroll that he performed with his hands. “Anyway, how about you lots? Anything new?” 

“Yeah I sent you a DM,” Will replied with a grin. Ensley remained silent throughout the interaction, too annoyed to even bother speaking. 

“Alright I’ll check it,” Lando looked up for a moment and spoke to someone, who then showed up at the screen next to Lando to say hi. The British driver introduced the man as Daniel before “Daniel” left. It didn’t take Lando long to find Will’s text, his eyes widening as Will noticed Ensley flipping him off. Will was going to protest but Lando murmured, “Did he really?” 

Thirty seconds passed then… “Oh my… god. He actually did.” 

“What is it about this guy?” Ensley grunted in irritation, losing her patience every second as Lando and Will laughed over the news. 

If Ensley didn’t know Lando, she would have assumed that he died by the way he fell off with a thud. He then regained his composure before saying, “He’s one of my grid mates. Drives for a different team. A party animal and yeah uh—“

Lando paused and pursed his lips, “Had told me once or twice about coming across your Instagram.” 

“What.” 

“Oh my god,” Will cackled on the other side of the call, unable to contain his amusement. Ensley shushed him with a glare. 

“Yeah,” Lando looked at her with a hint of confusion in his face, “like six races ago? I think it's the Spanish GP. He showed me your timeline and asked if I knew you then I said well yeah I do, I’m following you.

“I had some suspicion that he was somehow trying to slide to your DM,” Lando continued before he asked, “has he?” 

“Not that I know of,” Ensley replied. “No. I would have known otherwise.”

“Oh,” Lando’s voice flattened at the answer she gave him. “Well there you go, you have yourself a Frenchman.” 

“What— no!” Ensley exclaimed. “Norris, you better give me some context instead of being mysterious and shit. Like who is he?” 

“Ensley,” Will gasped in a mocking tone, “did you just tweet bitch who the fuck is Pierre Gasly?” 

“Ooh,” Lando grimaced at the post, “yeah, uh… funny thing about that— oi, Gasly! D’ya wanna meet your crush?” 

Ensley’s eyes widened while Will’s mouth gaped. They could hear a slight murmuring from Lando’s background. Ensley hadn’t even bothered drying her damp hair, her eyes drooping at the thought of looking like garbage in front of new people. 

When Lando began shifting his camera and screen towards a person, she quickly ended the call as soon as the man saw her face. No she wasn’t about to deal with that bullshit. 

Then the next thing she knew, the said man slithered his way into her private messages. When she told Will and Lando about his message, Lando brought up that it was an unusual thing for him to say that. Then the driver rattled off about how he’d seen Pierre text a woman before and how… charming his messages sounded. 

He’s very much out of character, Lando continued to text, but I’ll see what I can find out. 

Lando continued to pry about this whole Ensley-Pierre situation, because not once did he ever witness Pierre text I hope you’re having a good day so far to someone he barely knew. 

Ensley was quite hesitant to respond to him as days went on, but she persevered through her doubts and asked general things like how the races worked or how he could even manage to get out of the bed early in the morning without a problem. She had an inkling that he was only trying to get to her pants and she thought that she was right when he invited her to a race. 

Everyone knew about the specifics of the invitation, and she did too but thought so little of it. It might have been a passing comment made by the French driver. She just didn’t think that her manager would go as far as allowing Brian to tweet out that he’d send her to Singapore for the race if he got 100K retweets on his post. Next thing she knew she was being sent to Singapore on a first class flight with Will. 

Her manager Mavi, and her friend Brian made contact with Pierre’s PR manager and received the paddock passes. But her anxiety was through the roof as she thought about meeting Pierre. 

He only wanted one thing and it’s to link up with her. Preferably in his bed. Preferably naked.

But that’s what she only assumed. God, she proved herself wrong when he came picking her up with a bouquet of flowers in his hand and a smile so nice. She was so wrong about him. 

NOW

The whole thing that she considered a shitshow became a courtship that lasted for three months. She didn’t know when she fell in love, but she uttered the word yes as soon as he asked if she could be his girlfriend. 

Pierre could admit that he was too cocky and there was something about Ensley’s character that toned down his arrogance and strong personality. He liked it. Stability was his favourite thing about his life. She was his favourite thing in life.

But he didn’t think that it would come to the point where he felt so… lost. As if he didn’t know how much Ensley had spoken of him in her interviews, videos and even in her songs. He knew that he should be cocky about being loved by her — it was a win. 

But hearing that your competitor was just a day away from meeting you and sizing you up? Yeah. He wasn’t too keen at the thought, only wanting to stay at her LA apartment while she had some fun with her circle of friends from school back in Jakarta. He couldn’t do that to her, though, telling himself that he would be alright with meeting her friends. 

Ensley could read his face. Despite his insistence that French people had the resting bitch face, she could see his forehead creasing as he stared at whatever the fuck was on the floor. She knew how much he didn’t like the thought of meeting her friends due to a high school sweetheart that she just recently called out on twitter. She knew that confidence took some time to develop; Rome wasn’t built in a day.

She wished that he knew how much she adored him and his effort to be as accommodating to her— with her previous relationship that ended in a sour note being a factor of his consideration.

But he couldn’t read minds, so Ensley settled for an embrace and repeated murmurs of, “I love you” in his ears while she kissed his cheeks repeatedly. He smiled at her sweetness, his arms pulling her in his lap and allowing her to hold him close to end the night of silent battle with his demons. He won. 

The next day consisted of going out for a walk and basking in the sunlight that brightened the Los Angeles area, and rehearsals before tomorrow. Pierre liked the heat and the brightness, but he never thought of it too much until he saw how Ensley’s skin seemed to shine under the sun - how the sun shone over her prettiest face he nearly got in his knees to thank whatever God was up there or anywhere. He liked the sun, overall. 

She had an hour rehearsal that didn’t seem to take long as Pierre sat and spoke with Jackson, Joji and Ylona throughout the entire hour. He’d look up to check on Ensley every other five minutes but never stopped speaking with the people he befriended a few months ago. 

With everyone knowing that Ensley’s ex boyfriend would be at their high school reunion, she also expressed her worries for Pierre to her peers. So Joji decided to assure the Frenchman, “She barely tolerates him— but he happened to be friends with her mates. So really, don’t worry. He’s got nothing on you but a past history.”

Pierre took that information in, offering him a thanks before he told himself to keep his composure once he and Ensley met her friends. 

He was wearing nothing too extravagant. He wore a cream crocheted shirt and left them unbuttoned, white ribbed tank top being at the bottom layer while he wore a pair of khaki shorts that matched well with his tops. He had a subtle gold chain hanging on his neck. His blue eyes were fucking pretty.

She did say she wasn't going to go all out. She lived in this city to know she didn’t have to dress fancy in a bar, knowing full well that she and Pierre would call it a night as soon as 11 PM hit. She had to perform tomorrow, after all.

But still, she wolf-whistled at the sight of him, leaning on the doorway with her arms crossed and her cream dress on. Pierre looked up at the mirror to see her reflection staring at his back, her eyes trailing down on his figure as he tried to keep his composure. She had a bad habit of "admiring" his figure, but it wasn't anything that sets him off - he does it to her all the time and would sometimes tell her "you look pretty to devour." 

“You’re staring, bébé,” Pierre chuckled, making her stare at him with a grin. 

“How to spot a rich European in Los Angeles,” Ensley jokes, giggling quietly as she approaches him. She hugged him from behind, slotting her head under his arm to look at their reflection properly. She took in the scent of his cologne. God, he was so fucking perfect.

Then she said, “I didn’t think you would wear that colour.” 

“No?”

“I thought you’re like Ricciardo,” she quipped, “with his party shirt and all that?”

“Bébé we’ve been together for ten months, you know this is my party shirt.”

“No it’s not,” Ensley snorted, “you’re more of a linen shirt and khaki pants guy. You’re wearing a crocheted shirt.

“But nonetheless,” she said quietly, “we’re going to be the hottest couple in there.” 

“I sure hope so,” Pierre chuckled, reaching down to kiss her hair. “I’d hate to be rated as 1.” 

“Your driver number is 10 for a reason, bub,” she laughed, now standing straight before she clapped his back gently, “c’mon, we’ve got our sangrias calling for us.” 

“An absolute 10,” Natasha might have been quiet, but she wasn’t too sneaky on gesturing at Pierre’s direction when she spoke to Ensley. “You bagged a good one.”

“Hm,” Ensley hummed happily, glancing at Pierre — who stood by the bar counter while waiting for their drinks — and was caught staring at him. His lips curled into a smirk as he winked at her. She rolled her eyes playfully before turning away to talk to her friends. “Yeah, I lucked out.” 

“When you told us about him before you even began dating we went full on FBI on him,” Abby chuckled quietly. “It was easy to find him— seeing as he’s a driver and all that. I was worried about you for a moment though.”

“How so?” 

“For one, he’s known for the endless line of women trailing after him,” Abby answered before she smiled, “but you setting your boundaries and him respecting it? Phew, now that’s the hottest thing a man could have within him. Respect, of all things.” 

“And you are like the happiest woman to have existed,” Natasha smirked, “who passed her honeymoon phase with all the happiness that a woman could get.”

The conversation in the table was tampered with the karaoke at the front, which helped with avoiding nosy people who’d try to get a good story to hear for the night. But alas, there were nosy people that happened to be in the same group as her for tonight. 

“Who passed her honeymoon phase?” Ensley restrained herself from rolling her eyes, keeping her mouth clamped shut to somehow respect her ex as her friends’ friend. 

Vero Gerard was a year older than Ensley. It felt wrong for a junior to date a senior, but she was smitten. She could remember breaking her own heart and not dating anyone after him, not in a new country or new city. She hadn’t tried again until that guy named Kenny from San Diego. Vero was memorable, to say the least. At least, those memories that made her realize that she was worth more than how he treated her. She forgot the rest. 

He’s only a year older, but somehow his “matured” ego and his experiences in life made her feel small. He would often see her notes and would scoff at how easy it was while she was about to shed tears at the thought of failing. Her father was strict because he didn’t want her to be in danger— a daddy’s girl, she was. While Vero’s parents thought that she was too childish for his liking. 

Vero didn’t tell her all of that, instead Ensley learned all of those from a friend of a friend of a friend. Her heart broke at that, bleaching her hair orange when he immediately found a girl to string along. 

He didn’t care to tell her where he went, only calling her when he’s drunk. She thought it was ideal to say that she was getting drunk at her friend’s house and having a party with the people there— she really wasn’t. She tried to get back at him, like any petty teenager would. 

When she moved to the UK for university, she kept tabs on her friends and acquaintances. She’d immediately turn off her Facebook whenever she came across Vero’s new fling while the photos taunted her. 

But that wasn’t her anymore. Now she was only irritated with his petty behaviour and the tone of his voice. 

He arrived with their two other guy friends, Jason and Mario, and he couldn’t choose a better time to walk over the table. 

“Just Henny about to reach the engaged phase,” Natasha told him, “not that you’d know.” 

Vero looked peered at the mentioned woman, to which she stared back but with the unequal amount of interest written all over her face. “You’ve made quite a good album.” 

“Heard all of it?” Ensley scoffed.

“I like to keep tabs,” Vero shrugged. Nonetheless, Ensley looked past him to greet Jason and Mario before the two settled near Natasha and Abby. Just as Vero stood there, a figure behind him cleared his throat. Her ex turned around, looking in the eyes of the Frenchman who had no intention to even challenge him to some sort of testosterone competition. 

Then Pierre’s eyes softened when he looked down at her, “Got your sangria, mon amour.” He placed down her drink before he found himself sitting on his original seat— next to her. Vero found his seat next to Mario, a cocky smile still written on his face as though he would win the game Pierre had no intention to play. 

Pierre reminded himself that he was the one that Ensley would fly and come home to, not anyone. Ensley just reminded him yesterday how much she loved him by peppering his face with kisses. She continued to prove to him that she was equally in love with him everyday. He never doubted that. 

“Merci beaucoup,” she said with a smile, obviously proud at her skill of not butchering a simple French phrase, before turning towards the men who just arrived. “Pierre, these are my friends— Mario and Jason. Guys, this is my boyfriend— Pierre.” 

The three men exchanged pleasantries while Mario told Pierre, “She really wasn’t lying when she said she was dating an F1 driver. She doesn’t even watch any sport so I didn’t know what changed her opinion.” Pierre laughed at this before telling the man that he managed to change her mind on her lack of interest in the sport by competing in it.

Then she said, “Vero, I’m sure you know Pierre.” 

Pierre turned towards the mentioned man, “Yeah. It’s nice to meet you.” 

He stuck out his hand for Vero to shake, making the others gape quietly. At least, he knew he was a better man without putting it out there. He didn’t need to show his home in Milan to prove how better he was. Vero must have thought of him as some rich boy who would take his pick of the week before moving onto another country for a race. 

Vero shook his hand regardless, a fake smile planted on his face. “Likewise,” but he said it as if he didn’t mean it. 

Pierre Gasly knew that Vero Gerard was sizing him up. This cockiness of his would eventually humble him, if he didn’t know any better. While the Frenchman felt like he knew very little about his girlfriend in comparison to her ex, Pierre still knew how little she appreciated someone’s egotistical attitude. He experienced her wrath firsthand so he knew exactly her thoughts on people who allow their egos get in the way of reality. 

But Pierre still felt nothing but discomfort as he stood by the bar counter to grab some refresher for Ensley and himself, opting for something nonalcoholic instead of getting pissed in the middle of a street he had no knowledge of. It was a full house and it took him nearly ten minutes just to order their drinks. It didn’t help that Vero had approached the bar with his own order and his smug smile. 

“How long have you two been together for?” Was the first thing Vero had asked Pierre, fucking around with his empty cocktail glass while he continued to play some sort of mind games with the Formula One driver. 

Pierre wasn’t that into the testosterone game that Vero started. Regardless he answered truthfully, “Ten months,” he paused, “fourteen if you count our unofficial months.”

“Unofficial? Hm,” Vero hummed, cocking his head to the side as he continued, “I didn’t think she’d make you wait.” 

“How so?” What was Vero insinuating, Pierre asked himself internally. 

“I dunno,” Vero shrugged nonchalantly, “she always jumped at the chance to get into a relationship. Even with me.” 

His comment nearly had Pierre fuming. Was he calling her easy? Vero must have noticed him get ticked off by the comment, but he must’ve thought that Pierre was pissed at the thought of having to wait because he continued to run his mouth.

“She’s had a crush on me for months,” Vero continued, “yet when I asked her out she quickly said yes. She was the same with that guy from San Diego I think. So, you’re a different story, if anything.

“Don’t know if that’s a good thing or not,” Vero laughed as if he was being fucking funny. Pierre would’ve swung his fist at the man had it been for the fact that this night wasn’t for Ensley. This was her night and he wasn’t going to ruin that.

It didn’t feel right that he was hearing someone talk about his woman like this. Like she was easy and naive. She wasn’t. She was headstrong and her petite figure could do a lot more damage on someone’s physical being should she fight against her morality. 

He’d gotten a mouthful from her when he joked about having to carry heavy stuff for her because of how small she was, telling him that she didn’t need him when she could just make trips back and forth. She had gotten into an argument with some journalist who thought that she was only in it for the money and fame, spewing out the most colourful words possible to defend herself and her devotion towards Pierre. 

So for someone to call her easy and naive — no matter how direct or indirect it was — never felt right in Pierre’s ears. They were so wrong. Vero, for someone who bragged about knowing Ensley for a long time, didn’t know how amazing and brave she was— and Pierre could only pity him for it. 

But he controlled his urge to get into some sort of fight with him, not wanting to embarrass himself or Ensley. He was still a Formula One driver with dignity and respect for his girlfriend’s image and being. He was the better man. 

“I’d say good,” Pierre answered with a shrug. Vero gave him a questioning look and so the Frenchman continued, “Different means she was looking for a change — and clearly she got tired of the same thing all over again. It was good for her to be able to get out of the loop she was unhappy with.” 

“That right?” Vero muttered, his eyes still challenging the driver. His smile fell off as he listened to Pierre’s words.

“Maybe,” Pierre shrugged again, “I’m not really sure— she’s got her own thoughts, after all. I don’t control her. Maybe that’s why I don’t know her much.” 

He then looked at Vero while he grinned, “I don’t like dictating what she likes and what she doesn’t like. She only tells me what she wants me to know. Maybe that’s why I don’t know her much— everything she likes I don’t decide for her.” 

Before Vero could speak any more, the bartender had placed a glass of alcohol free tonic and a Shirley Temple in front of Pierre as he thanked the man behind the counter. 

The choices of drink left Vero to comment, “She likes tequila sunrise.”

“She loves white sangria,” Pierre told him matter of factly, beaming as he sipped on his tonic before he stood up and grabbed the glasses, “she has a mint plant in my place because she makes a pitcher of the drink whenever she’s around. She loves going to the market to get some citrus for her drink, too— saying she likes the fresh fruits of Milan.” 

Then he walked back towards their table, extremely proud of himself for standing his ground. Maybe that’ll get Vero to shut up for once, as Ensley wanted. 

“I thought you liked the tequila sunrise better?” “Sangria’s much better. I make more of it whenever I’m in Milan. I’d rather not get drunk tonight though so… I only had one and am settling for a Shirley Temple.”

“You always liked the school varsity jacket I had. Do you still have ‘em?” “Had to toss out half my closet. I’ve been purchasing enough for myself lately.”

“Do you still make Che Banh Lot? Like those ones you’d make at my house?” 

Pierre knew where Vero was getting at. He knew when a guy wouldn’t quit— and he was sure that Ensley’s ex was trying to make her remember those happy days. 

But Ensley’s genuine confusion nearly had him and the girls laughing. She cocked her head to the side and said, “I’ve been making it at home with Tasha.”

“Tasha was there,” Vero nodded in confirmation, trying to get her to agree with his recalling. 

Ensley’s eyes narrowed, trying to figure out where he meant before she said, “Eh— nonetheless, I do. You know what? I had Pear assisting me with making them when we last visited his parents in France a month or so ago.”

Everyone but the couple looked at her in awe and shock. Ensley offered them a confused look, only for Pierre to grab her hand from underneath the table to hold it. She rubbed her thumb against his hand mindlessly, a questioning look exchanged between her and her friends.

Jason first spoke up and turned to Ensley, “So you’ve met his parents?” 

Ensley, not really aware of the looks exchanged between her friends, beamed happily before rambling, “Yeah! Pascale and Jean-Jacques invited us over when I flew to Milan. I do back and forths, remember? But yeah, P got his flat there and we traveled for six and a half hours. I was glad I had enough time to make it. I’ve got quite a useful assistant right here.”

Natasha, amused at her friend’s excitement, then peered at the Alpine driver and asked with a small smile, “How did they like it?”

“Good,” his French accent thickened while he spoke, “they were wondering if Ensley would come back anytime soon because they wanted to lock her up there forever.” 

Her friends giggled at this. “Would you lock her up there?” Abby teased the duo. 

Pierre looked down at his girlfriend, not even caring about the man next to Mario anymore. For some reason, there were certain inhibitions that he couldn’t seem to look at anymore. Womanizing, or being a Casanova, was one of them. 

In the span of a year, Ensley had managed to slither her way to his heart and found a little space there. He was enthralled with her personality and beauty and it was a shame Vero didn’t see all of that. If you told Pierre that he’d be dating someone that he drooled over on Instagram and that he’d eventually want to marry her, he would have laughed at your face.

But the Pierre in the present wasn’t the same. So he cheekily grinned and joked, “I would but I wouldn’t have anyone to write songs about me.”

Forget about the love that she had back when she was in high school in Jakarta; Ensley wrote more about him, and only him. He wasn’t the same person that everyone would’ve assumed to kick out a girl after one night. She wouldn’t have written Lowkey if she thought of him as someone who didn’t deserve a shot. 

She was glad that her relationship with Vero had happened. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be able to imagine what it’s like to have a life without a certain Pierre Gasly on it.

[er1chartmann]

Adolf Eichmann

This is Adolf Eichmann, the empty man, timeline:

1906: He was born.

1914: The First World War began

1914: He  and his family move to Linz, Austria.

1916: His mother died.

1918: The First World War ended

1925: He works in the sales division of the Upper Austrian Electrical Construction Company.

1927: He started working as a traveling salesman for the Vacuum Oil Company in Upper Austria. He left his job in 1933

1932:  He enters the Austrian National Socialist (Nazi) Party and the SS at the suggestion of an acquaintance, Ernst Kaltenbrunner.

1933: Adolf Hitler is appointed Chancellor of Germany

1933: The Austrian government suppresses the Austrian Nazi Party 

1933: He leaves Austria for Germany, where he joins the “Austrian Legion” and engages in military training.

1934: He joins the Security Service Main Office (Sicherheitsdienst (SD) Hauptamt) with the rank of SS-Scharführer (Sergeant).

1935: He married Veronika (Vera) Liebl.

1936: His first son, Klaus Eichmann, was born.

1937: He is assigned to a section of the SD dealing with Zionist activities.

1937: He negotiates with Zionist functionaries and makes an inspection tour of Palestine in order to assess the possibility of large-scale voluntary Jewish emigration to Palestine.

1938: The Central Office for Jewish Emigration officially opens in Vienna.

1939: He becomes responsible for promoting the expulsion of Czech Jews from the Protectorate of Bohemia and Moravia 

1939: The Second World War began.

1939: He creates a Central Office for Jewish Emigration in Prague.

1939: He leads the Reich-wide Reich Central Office for Jewish Emigration in Berlin

1940: He becomes director of Reich Security Main Office (RSHA) section IV D 4 “Emigration and Evacuation” 

1940: His second son, Horst Adolf Eichmann, was born.

1940: He organizes the deportation of nearly 7,000 Jews from Baden and Saarpfalz to areas of unoccupied France.

1941: He becomes director of RSHA section IV B 4 (Jewish Affairs, or Judenreferat). 

1941: He is appointed SS-Obersturmbannführer (Lieutenant Colonel)

1941: He takes part in discussions in which Nazi leaders plan the annihilation of the European Jews.

1941-1942: Eichmann's Section IV B 4 coordinates the deportation of tens of thousands of Jews from the so-called Greater German Reich to ghettos and killing sites in the German-occupied Soviet Union.

1942: Reinhard Heydrich convenes the Wannsee Conference

1942: His third son,  Dieter Helmut Eichmann, was born.

1942-1943: He and his aides organize the deportation of Jews from the so-called Greater German Reich, Slovakia, the Netherlands, France, Belgium, and Croatia to killing centers in German-occupied Poland, primarily Auschwitz-Birkenau.

1943-1944: He nd his aides organize the deportation of Jews from Greece, northern Italy, and Hungary, primarily to the killing center Auschwitz-Birkenau.

1944: He personally direct the deportation of Hungarian Jewry.

1945: Hitler commits suicide.

1945: The Second World War ended

1946: He  escapes from US custody and flees to Argentina with the assistance of some Vatican officials.

1955: His fourth son, Ricardo Francisco Eichmann, was born.

1960: Agents of the Mossad abduct Eichmann from Argentina and bring him to Israel to stand trial.

 1961: He is found guilty of crimes against the Jewish people.

1962: He died.

Sources:

Military Wiki: Adolf Eichmann

Wikipedia: Adolf Eichmann

Holocaust Encyclopedia: Adolf Eichmann

I DON'T SUPPORT NAZISM,FASCISM OR ZIONISM IN ANY WAY, THIS IS AN EDUCATIONAL POST

[escapismsworld]

László Mednyánszky  (1852–1919)

A Slovak-Hungarian painter-philosopher, is one of the most enigmatic figures in the history of Hungarian art. Despite an aristocratic background, he spent most of his life moving around Europe working as an artist.

Mednyánszky spent considerable periods in seclusion but mingled with people across society in the aristocracy, art world, peasantry and army – many of whom became the subjects of his paintings.

His most important works depict scenes of nature and poor, working people, particularly from his home region in Kingdom of Hungary. He is also known as a painter of folklore of Upper Hungary (today mostly Slovakia)

[chicago-geniza]

Map of all the gymnasia in Austria-Hungary circa 1910/11, poached from one of my favorite researchers on Twitter. Peep Kraków in the upper right for Stefania's school, I Prywatne Gymnazjum Żeńskie im. Emilii Plater (well she was there for middle school at least in 1902, when it had a slightly different name)

[kdinjenzen]

most of the original pop culture vampires, and the people who inspired them are upper class nobility. COUNT dracula, prince vlad (the impaler) III of wallachia , the countess elizabeth bathory of hungary.

they traditionally live in CASTLES ffs vampires have always been rich and upper crust.

contrastingly part of the mythos of werewolves is that, when not transformed, they could be anyone hiding anywhere. they are monsters hiding as ORDAINARY people.

can there be noble and titled werewolves? yes. can there be grubby street kid vampires? also yes. but that's a subversion of the myth not the standard.

Werewolves are gay and poor and share the same torn up plaid shirt and jeans because of being gay and poor.

[justforbooks]

It is more than music, it is an orchestra. It is more than an orchestra, it is a fellowship. It does not matter who you are, where you come from. In fact it does not matter where you will continue on your way. It does not matter how old you are, if you are working as an unskilled worker or a top manager. It does not matter if your instrument is worth a cheap meal or a new car. There are no status symbols, only genuine symbols, just as many as we are. Even if we are many, we are not just a loud crowd. We are not alike, but we are not different either. We all need to be there, to be someone together and you are exactly that person we can not miss.

CityRocks was founded by a group of friends and musicians in Szeged, Hungary, 2017. The aim of the initiative is to bring live music, including rock music, to as many people as possible, and to provide a concert experience for amateurs who have only been able to play at home so far, in addition to professional and experienced musicians. Participants in CityRocks include children in the same way as the older age group. There is no lower or upper age limit. At the concerts so far, the youngest instrumental participant was 8 and the oldest was 74 years old. Another basic goal of CityRocks is to create a cohesive, music-loving and cultivating community, in addition to promoting live music and rock.

Following the pioneering initiative of the Italian Rockin1000, CityRocks first organized its special rock flashmob in Szeged in 2018, and since then they have given major orchestra concerts and a full-day music program in several Hungarian cities and abroad (Transylvania).

Every city who invites our project, becomes the capital of live music and be part of this unique community for one day. It is not just about music, but it is the connection between us.

Join us to be a member of the biggest rock band in Central Europe. Soon you will realize that you joined much more than a loud crowd.

Happy Friday everyone!

Have a Great Weekend and Don't Forget to Rock ❗❗❗🎶🎼

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

[best-hohenzollern-ruler]

Bonus Round: Best Chancellor

Otto von Bismarck (1871-1890)

The Iron Chancellor

With a man as talented and powerful as Otto von Bismarck, it is hard to know where to start when outlining his accomplishments. His rule over Prussia and later Germany totaled a combined thirty years, during which he upended the global order and reshaped the map of Europe as we know it today. His title of "The Iron Chancellor" originates from the iron grip he had over both German and international politics, as well as one of his most famous speeches.

Bismarck's greatest accomplishment was no doubt the unification of this great state of Germany, which he accomplished through both shrewd diplomacy and skillful warmaking. His wars against Denmark, Austria, and France propelled Prussia to new heights and allowed for the declaration of the German empire in 1871. As Bismarck had said 9 years prior to that exalted date, "the great questions of the day will not be decided by speeches or majority decisions, but by iron and blood"

Nations that claim power on the world stage by way of military might or economic excellence still kneel before Germany when it comes to care for their citizenry. Under Bismarck, Germany passed groundbreaking laws providing aid for injured or sick workers who could not earn a living for their families. Later, those benefits were expanded to aging or disabled citizens, creating the first social welfare program in Europe. It is my hope that countries with prospering upper classes may take a page from Germany's playbook and allow the government to care for those workers which have ensured its economic success. (Real subtle - T)

Leo von Caprivi (1890-1894)

A moment's pity for the poor man who must stand in the footholds of giants. How can one hope to compare to the eminence of Otto von Bismarck? Caprivi gave his answer by ripping to shreds one of Bismarck's foreign policy achievements, our former Reinsurance Treaty with Russia. This was a treaty that protected Germany from her greatest fear: a two (or three or perhaps even four!) front war, the Gallic rooster to our West and the Russian bear to our east. Why, then, would he not reinsure this treaty? Perhaps Russian reproachment with France was already a foregone conclusion; maybe he placed more value on Austria-Hungary and Italy than Russia; one scholar I've become familiar with has proposed that maybe his brain was "riddled with the worms of idiocy." The histrionics of the critics has never moved me. War will not come between Germany and Russia. A piece of paper changes nothing.

Caprivi realized that Germany would maintain her pre-eminence in Europe through either war or trade. For the first time, we chose industry. Commercial treaties were forged with an assortment of European nations including Austria-Hungary, Italy, Belgium, and Spain. He even ended a trade war with Russia, giving Germans access to cheaper Russian agriculture products. (What? Were the Merkel jokes too easy? -L)

Chlodwig zu Hohenlohe-Schillingsfürst (1894-1900)

Perhaps the greatest thing to say about Hohenlohe is that he was nobody's first pick for the job. Other names had been floated, but those picks proved too controversial. Hohenlohe, albeit aged, was a safe choice and caused the Kaiser no scandal. He served inconspicuously, which is to say without distinction. His cabinet was shuffled and reshuffled without his input and he found the winds of change blowing past him faster than he could react. A chancellor in name only, disempowered to enact any sorts of policies in the vein of predecessor. The most he achieved were reforms to the Prussian Military Law and the Law of Associations. In 1900, Hohenlohe took himself out of his misery and retired. Like his reactions to cooling relations with Russia and Britain, it came too little, too late. He died a year later.

Bernhard von Bülow (1900-1909)

The position of the Chancellor in the early 20th century increasingly seems like an ornate title for the caregiver of the Kaiser. After Wilhelm II inflamed tensions between Germany and France during the Morocco Crisis, it fell upon von Bülow to clean up the debacle. He represented the Kaiser at the Algeciras Conference, a meeting meant to defuse the tensions of the aforementioned crisis. Germany was humiliated, her terms discarded and the alliance between Britian and France was strengthened. When von Bülow defended his work at the conference, he became so overwhelmed that he collapsed.

Much like the first of his office, von Bülow's career came to an end in a conflict with Kaiser Wilhelm II. In a conversation published by the Daily Telegraph, the Kaiser attempted to court the affection of Britain and her king. Perhaps Herr Freud could say something in regards to His Majesty's love for his mother's country. (Note: Please never imply something like this ever again - T). Unfortunately, it had the opposite effect. The British public was appalled at the Kaiser's words, which read more as the ramblings of a madman than as the diplomatic forays of an emperor. Perhaps the outcry could have been prevented had von Bülow properly reviewed the text before it was published, however, he did not. The Kaiser viewed this as a betrayal and forced him to resign.

[mariacallous]

With Ukrainian forces stalled on the battlefield, and major aid packages for Kyiv blocked by Hungary in the EU and by Republican policymakers in the United States, the Western alliance in support of Ukraine appears increasingly weak and divided. Several scholars and policymakers have assessed this scenario—and reached the conclusion that a pivot to a defensive strategy could eventually bring Putin to the negotiating table. According to that line of thought, a new approach focused on securing territories that Ukraine already controls would consolidate Western support and eventually demonstrate to Russia that it cannot outlast Ukraine’s war effort. But that analysis reflects a fundamental misunderstanding of the Russian president and how he thinks. Any Western backtracking will only encourage Putin to double down on his assault on Ukraine. As long as he believes that military success is possible, Putin will refuse to negotiate—and he will keep fighting. 

With that reality in mind, Western policymakers must revise their approach to supporting the Ukrainian war effort. Ukraine’s partners should move from a halfhearted to a full-throated offensive strategy that provides the embattled country with all the weapons necessary to gain the upper hand and push back Russian forces. Europe, in particular, should do more. This includes delivering the maximum possible quantities of materiel from the EU’s existing stockpiles of relevant weapons systems, boosting military production, and expanding each country’s production capabilities. Specifically, Europe can and should give far more middle- and long-range cruise missiles to Kyiv. Doing so would allow Ukraine to target Russian infrastructure in the occupied territories while shielding its soldiers from the hazards of the frontlines. Europe must also speed up and extend the delivery of F-16 fighter jets to Ukraine, which would enable the country to establish air superiority. Coupled with the dispatch of additional air defense systems, such as Patriot and IRIS-T missiles, such aid would allow Ukraine to effectively pressure Russian forces and win the upper hand on the battlefield. 

Only then, with Russia on the back foot, will negotiations become possible. Only then will Western policymakers be able to achieve the real criteria for a victory: ensuring that Putin’s war of aggression does not pay off for Russia and that Europe does not continue to be a theater of war. Should the West capitulate to fatigue and infighting, however, it will simply play into Putin’s hands. A Russian triumph would set the stage for further war across the continent, bringing turmoil ever closer to NATO territory. 

AVOIDING SELF-DEFEAT

The current situation on the battlefield is indeed alarming for Ukraine and its partners. Russian forces have dug in behind miles of minefields and trenches, making it incredibly difficult and costly for Ukrainian soldiers to gain territory. A stalemate has set in; the conflict, now approaching its third year, has already exacted hundreds of thousands of military and civilian casualties and is becoming a brutal war of attrition. But those making the case for negotiations with Moscow fail to mention the context in which this worsening situation arose. Kyiv has not achieved major battlefield gains because its partners in the United States and Europe have not provided the necessary weapons to gain air control and effectively penetrate Russian positions and infrastructure in the occupied territories and Crimea. 

As the war has dragged on, Russia has succeeded in firing up its military industrial complex and adjusting to a wartime economy. Its material capabilities have now surpassed those of Ukraine, which continues to depend on arms supplies from the West. Although Ukraine’s partners have retained stockpiles of certain precision weapons, including Taurus cruise missiles, they are running out of other key materiel—specifically ammunition. Despite early warnings that ammunition would eventually run low, the European Union has failed to increase its production capabilities, owing to a lack of planning and foresight. At the current rate, the bloc will be unable to fulfill its commitment to provide one million shells and missiles to Ukraine by March 2024. And this lag is having consequences on the ground; whereas Russia uses between 25,000 and 30,000 shells a day, Ukraine fires a meager 7,000 shells a day. Facing critical shortages, Ukrainian troops have been forced to ration their use of ammunition. No NATO government would ever put its military in such a position of having to fight a war without sufficient ammunition, precision weapons, and air support.

Part of the problem is that many European leaders have failed to clearly state an objective for aid to Ukraine, and have instead pursued a vague and often halfhearted strategy of support. Their incremental approach to assistance hasn’t equipped Kyiv to achieve a major breakthrough during Ukraine’s summer offensive. Policymakers within the German government and the Biden administration, in particular, continue to view the delivery of every weapons system through the lens of how Russia will respond, with the fear of escalation constraining what kind of aid Ukraine receives. The reality is that Russia has already fully escalated in terms of its conventional military capabilities and is unlikely to take the nuclear route for two reasons: first, out of fear of U.S. retaliation; and second, given the opposition of China, Russia’s indispensable ally, to nuclear escalation, a clear redline for Beijing. 

Putin must not be allowed to imagine that there is any merit to his heinous invasion; if he triumphs, wars of aggression in Europe may well become more common. From the perspective of Kyiv and its partners, this means that at a minimum Ukraine’s prewar boundaries must be reinstated. Kyiv is not only fighting to regain its territory but also defending the fundamental right of self-determination of states, as well as the largely peaceful order that has prevailed in Europe since the end of World War II. It is a goal that liberal democracies in the West and around the world should be united in supporting—particularly throughout Europe, where war has returned to the continent. 

SHEDDING ILLUSIONS

There is widespread agreement among many observers and policymakers that the war in Ukraine can likely only end with negotiations. A satisfactory agreement, however, will not be achieved from a position of Ukrainian weakness. Given Putin’s track record, there is no reason to believe that a defensive approach by Ukraine and its partners would incentivize Russia to move toward a cease-fire, as some, such as Richard Haass and Charles Kupchan, have suggested. Quite the contrary: Putin has made it clear that he does not want to negotiate. He wants to win this war, which has become a matter of his political and personal survival. The war has come at a huge cost for Russia, and Putin must have something to show for it. To assume that he might seize the opportunity to stanch the bloodletting is wishful thinking, and has nothing to do with the Putin who has bombed Ukrainian civilians, helped the Syrian dictator Bashar al-Assad launch a horrendous war against his own people, and overseen a brutal occupation of Chechnya in the early 2000s. Unsurprisingly, his price for even opening negotiations with Kyiv is essentially a total Ukrainian surrender. And in return, he promises nothing. 

Rolling back support for Ukraine would diminish rather than increase Russia’s appetite for negotiations. Putin would gain the upper hand and have no reason to engage in dialogue if he senses the possibility of a military victory. Russia’s expanded military-industrial complex can sustain a years-long war effort; Europe, on the other hand, has not increased its military output and will soon run out of the vital military systems that Ukraine so desperately needs. Knowing this, Putin just needs to wait. Time is on his side. 

The lack of spine shown here by the United States and the EU could have important consequences for the rest of the world. If the West backed down in the face of Putin’s advances, or revealed that it is not capable of substantially ramping up support for Ukraine, such a failure would signal weakness to China and other revisionist powers such as Iran. It would also send a disastrous message to other key allies such as the Philippines and Taiwan, which rely on U.S. military support for their safety and territorial integrity. Shifting to a dedicated offensive strategy and helping Ukraine succeed against Russia would help deter China in the Indo-Pacific and reassure U.S. and EU allies. Every Republican arguing that the United States must focus on China and leave Europe to the Europeans should keep in mind that allowing Russia to triumph in Ukraine would only encourage the worst, most aggressive instincts in Beijing. 

CLEAR EYES, FULL AID

But just as the United States must not waver in its support for Ukraine, Europe must do more to step up and provide for its own defense—especially given the prospect of the return of Donald Trump to the Oval Office. In the event that Trump is reelected, Europeans must be able to sustain the Ukrainian war effort on their own. Europeans cannot escape the geography  of our continent; we are not separated by a vast ocean from the war. Thus, we do not have a choice but to ensure a Ukrainian victory. It is our collective peaceful European order that is under attack by Russia. Although single-handedly supporting Ukraine would be considerably more difficult, it is not impossible. Germany’s GDP alone is almost twice as big as Russia’s; the EU’s as a whole is seven times larger. 

To activate the EU’s potential as a geopolitical player, and to build a sustainable coalition in support of Ukraine, Germany needs to live up to its leadership role in the bloc. It must act as a bridge builder between eastern Europeans who are well aware of the Russian threat close to their borders and western Europeans who feel relatively safe in their homes far away from the Ukrainian frontlines. Although valuable time has been lost, it is not too late for German Chancellor Olaf Scholz to act decisively. Scholz has taken some important steps; in 2023, German military support for Ukraine totaled some four billion euros, including weapons systems such as tanks and missile defense systems—a sum that will be doubled in 2024. This large-scale aid is all the more exceptional given Germany’s long-standing pacifism, which has historically led Berlin to refuse to send weapons to conflict zones. But given Germany’s untapped capacity, as well as what a victory for Ukraine and Europe will entail, it is not enough. 

To continue the strikes against Russian infrastructure and supply lines, Ukraine needs cruise missiles such as Taurus systems to hit targets beyond the frontlines, as well as fighter jets to establish air control and air defense to protect its soldiers in the trenches. To date, Germany has withheld Taurus cruise missiles on the grounds that there are still technical challenges that must be resolved in order to restrict the missiles’ range. The real, highly cynical reason for not delivering these weapons is that they are extremely effective, and Scholz fears that the successful use of these weapons could prompt Russian escalation. Although Germany has already delivered several Patriot missile defense systems which now successfully shield the skies above Kyiv, it can and should provide more, at a time when Russia is intensifying its drone attacks on Ukrainian cities and infrastructure. If Berlin feels some consternation regarding the provision of these systems, it must understand that providing Ukraine with all the weapons it needs to wear down and defeat Russian forces is in the security interests of every European state.

Scholz’s biggest shortcoming is that he has remained vague when discussing the West’s objectives in its support for Ukraine. He continues to use an ambiguous formula in which, as he has said, “Russia must not win, Ukraine must not lose.” Scholz must call Russia’s war what it is: an attack on peace in Europe that poses an existential risk to Germany and the continent. This kind of explicit support, polling shows, would be met with widespread approval from the German public. 

CRACKING DOWN

Beyond expanding their military production capacity, Ukraine’s partners can and should do much more to slow down Russia’s arms production, starting with the proper enforcement of their own sanctions regimes. Many of the high-precision machines used in Russia to produce systems such as cruise missiles are U.S. and German products. Russia continues to maintain and purchase these machines. This is possible because German authorities do not properly enforce European sanctions. Russia has often managed to evade restrictions by operating through third countries such as Kyrgyzstan, where German exports have skyrocketed since Russia launched its invasion in February 2022. Once there, exports such as machinery, motor vehicles, and parts—which have gone up by more than 5,000 percent—continue on to Russia. Proper enforcement of EU sanctions, including tailoring them in a way to prohibit such circumvention via third parties, would hamper Russia’s ability to repair, maintain, and procure spare parts for this critical machinery, ultimately slowing Russia’s weapons production.

In addition, U.S. and European policymakers should do far more to target Russia’s main weapons suppliers: North Korea and Iran. Although North Korea is internationally recognized as the pariah state that it is, the Islamic Republic is treated differently by the international community. There is a rationale behind this behavior; the United States and Europe still hope to renegotiate a nuclear agreement with Iran, after the Trump administration withdrew from the deal in 2018. But the regime has demonstrated no serious interest in reviving the agreement, having rejected the EU’s proposal for a new deal in 2022. Instead, the Islamic Republic has provided Russia with kamikaze drones since mid-2022, including some 1,700 Shahed drones that year. Russia and Iran have also signed a billion-dollar weapons deal, which aims to build 6,000 drones on a Russian site by 2025. Moreover, the Iranian-made drones used to attack Ukrainian infrastructure and bomb Ukrainian cities are often manufactured using Western components. Washington and Brussels should enact much tougher sanctions on the regime for aiding Russia’s war effort and restrict their own trade with Iran to reduce the chances of delivering commodities that can aid Iran’s drone-making effort. 

PLAYING THE LONG GAME

Because Russian forces have dug deep into trenches and now hide behind miles of mines, much of Ukraine’s war effort no longer takes place along the frontlines. Ukraine now focuses on targeting Russian supply lines and infrastructure within Russian-occupied territory and in Crimea, which holds symbolic importance for the Russian people, especially since Putin annexed the peninsula in 2014. By targeting Putin’s pressure points and aiming to inflict painful defeats on Russia in the Black Sea or in Crimea, Ukraine is hoping to galvanize public sentiment in Russia against the war and its ringleader. Such a shift in public attitudes is a precondition for negotiations; to be willing to talk and compromise, Putin must first be under severe pressure at home. The second precondition is a military one: Putin must also be certain that he can achieve nothing more by force. Ukraine must therefore win the upper hand on the battlefield. 

Forcing Ukraine to negotiate under the current circumstances would destroy all its hopes to align more closely with the West—hopes that are a little brighter after the EU’s decision to approve negotiations toward allowing Kyiv entry into the bloc. Putin will continue to target and destabilize Ukraine through all means available. It was Putin’s fear, after all, of having another flourishing Western country along Russia’s border that propelled him to attack in the first place. A defensive strategy focused solely on dialogue with Russia is at best fundamentally flawed—and at worst catastrophically naive. Such a strategy would lead to a partitioned Ukraine with no hope of joining NATO, as no NATO country would want to risk being drawn directly into a lingering conflict with Russia. Without NATO deterrence, Putin would be free to recover, regroup, and eventually attack again. And Ukraine would not be the only country at risk of a renewed assault; other states such as Moldova and the Baltic countries would be under constant threat, as well. Europe can prevent this nightmare scenario from happening only if it sheds its illusions and wholeheartedly commits to Ukraine’s defense.