#5- Secure money transfer

[determinate-negation]

another reminder to donate to mohammeds @save-mohamed-family campaign. as ive said before, mohammed’s entire immediate family was killed in the war and he is trying to save his wife and kids. i know people have been reading sentences like this for months now but seriously think about what it actually means to lose so many of the people absolute closest to you like that. its an unimaginable amount of loss and i don't want him to lose any more of his family.

this is #192 on the Vetted Gaza Fundraiser List

donations have been going slowly today but this is still extremely urgent. although he was able to buy some medicine for his kids with the funds i transferred last week, they’re still suffering from skin diseases and a lot of the money will need to go towards securing a stronger tent for the winter.

here are photos he sent me of his son who unfortunately is suffering from the skin diseases caused by the idfs destruction of sanitation and medical systems

mohammed goes every day to internet hotspots to send messages and try to raise money for his family, even though its more dangerous because the idf frequently targets wifi hotspots and places where people gather. he’s putting himself in danger constantly to try to save his family. please dont let his efforts be in vain.

please donate to this campaign, even if its $5. every donation adds up and the collective action of many people really makes a difference. i really hope this can get to 14k by tonight.

$13,127 raised of $50,000

[yamumsyadadd]

Sometimes all you need is a little love

At 5, you were loved. Your mum and dad adored you. Everything was about you and your parents.  They worked hard, and in return you got to fulfil your dream of being a footballer. 

At 8, things started to change. Sundays that were usually filled with church in the morning, and Barcelona games in the afternoon slowly started to disappear. 

Your mum and dad were fighting. She was looking frail, unwell, a shell of herself. He looked angry, distant, with marks on his arms, coming home smelling like cigarettes and flowers. It was a weird smell, it would linger in the air for hours to come. 

Gone were the days when they would both come to your football. It was one or the other, sometimes even none of them. 

At 10, you found her. Hanging. You just sat there, watching her. Eventually going to the neighbours you thought you knew. Turns out they moved out and there was a new family. An older lady, Eli. She let you come inside and called for help while distracting you with cookies and her white fluffy dog. 

From that day, things changed. Your father’s love became less and less. His violence and drinking became more. He had a new girlfriend every other month. Barely lasting the entire calendar month. 

By age 12, La Masia came knocking. A full scholarship was on offer. It was your dream. Something you and your parents had worked hard for, together. Expect now it was just you. Forging your dad’s signature, you dropped the forms back off. Transferring to their academy the week later. 

La Masia was hard. Harder than you expect. Maybe it was because things at home were worse than ever before, your dad lost his job, the random woman continued however now there was random men added into it. Home wasn’t a safe place for you or anyone in that case. 

At 14, things hit an all time low, bruises and marks were becoming harder to hide with your promotion to the Barca B team. They were all so close to each other, hanging out after training, getting food or going shopping, their weekends were all spent together. But not with you. As much as they tried you shielded away from it. School and football were the two things that matter - there was no time for anything else, no time to worry about anything else. 

The closest thing you had to a parent was the lady across the hall, every few days there would be a plate of food at the front door when you arrived home. On Sundays it was a bigger meal, you’d divvy it out so it would last a few extra days. The limited money you did have was given to your dad, you’d keep some of it but it wasn’t enough for the bus fare and food. It was one of the other. 

Every morning you would make the one hour trek from your home in Mollet del Vallès, using that time to do your homework, study plays or rewatch games, sometimes even catching a few more minutes of sleep. Every evening, after training you’d stay and help pack away the equipment, sometime just relishing in the warmth of the facility, the endless hot water, the feeling of safety. 

One night, after missing the last bus, you hide in a supply closet. Knowing there was no way you’d get home that night, you huddled around the spare clothes and clean towels. It oddly was one of the best sleeps you’d had in years. The constant security that would walk around the facility made you feel safe. 

After that initial night, there were many more nights of sleeping at the facility. Was it the best idea? Probably not, but it was the safest, and the warmest. 

15 was when things really changed. At some point, your dad just stopped coming home. He’d be gone for days at a time. This time though, he was gone for almost three weeks. You bloomed in the silence. The apartment was clean, airy, in contrast to the dark, stuffy air that usually resides. 

On Christmas Eve things came to ahead. There wasn’t much food left. A few eggs, some bread and some cereal. No milk, vegetables or anything fresh. Biting the bullet, you made your way across the hall to the older ladies door. She had told you before that if you needed anything, to just knock. So you did, rocking back and forth on your heels, you were shocked when the door swung open and none other than Alexia Putellas, captain of the Barcelona Women’s team, 2 time Ballon D’Or winner, was standing there with a smile on her face. 

“Hola pequeña, are you ok?”

“Oh, um, hola? Is Eli here?” 

“Si, come in.” You stood there for a moment, staring at her, “mami a pequeña is here for you!” Eli, the nice, caring older woman was Alexia Putellas mother. Of course she was. 

“Neña! To what do I owe this visit?” 

“I am very sorry to interrupt and be rude, but I was wondering if you had any milk I could please have? My papi has gone away for a bit and forgot to leave some money.” 

“You’re alone? You’re no older than 16?” A smaller but almost identical person chimed in. 

“Si. I am 15”. A shy nod was all you could muster, the energy you previously had disappeared. 

“Well where did he go? Are you alone for Christmas?” 

“Uh, um a work trip? Si, si, a work trip! He will be back at some point, I’m sure.” It was a lie, a terrible horrible lie and everyone in that room knew. All three older women shared a look. 

“Here is some milk Nena. Do you want to stay for dinner?” 

“No no that’s okay. Thank you for the milk, I will give you money when I get some!” 

“Nonsense dear. It’s just milk.” 

Silently you grabbed the milk and started to walk towards the door, leaving the three women staring at you. Eli’s eyes expressed sadness, Alexia’s were confused, she knew you from somewhere but she couldn’t place it, Alba was bewildered, she remembered being 15 and there was no way in hell that Eli would’ve left her home alone, but especially not over the holiday period. 

“She is a good girl. She studies hard, she’s at La Masia. Always very polite but something is off in the house.” 

Alexia’s head whipped around, “she’s at the academy?” Eli nodded, “how does she get there? it’s a 40 minute drive and she’s not old enough?” 

“I don’t know Alexia, tonight was the most she’s spoken to me since she came asking for the ambulance when her mami died.” 

“That was her?” A nod was all alexia received. For the rest of the night they were all silent, you went to bed with a small amount of food in your stomach. The 8 pieces of French toast were enough to get you through until the farmers market opened on the 26th. 

A dread washed over you the following afternoon when there was a knock at the front door. Opening it slowly, and only half showing your face, Alexia and Alba (you learnt her name after googling Alexia), were standing there. 

“Hola pequeña. Mami asked if you and your papi wanted to join us for dinner?” Alexia voice was firm, almost as if there wasn’t room for you to say no. 

“Um, sure. My papi isn’t back yet, but what time does she want us?” 

“Now-“

“An hour-“ both girls spoke at the same time. Alba wanting to give you time to do whatever you needed, but alexia wanted you father to show himself. Unbeknownst to you, she had reached out to the La Masia staff and a few of the younger girls. 

Vicky and Martina had told her the little information that they knew. You were young, talented and a hard worker. You’d catch the bus to and from training, never really talking to anyone and certainly never hanging out with them. They’d offered to help you with your homework, Vicky realising very quickly that you were both in the same grade despite you being two years younger. Both Vicky and Martina felt that there was something off, never seeing your father or anyone supporting you at games, not even at the international friendly with the under 17s that you’d been called up too. 

“Okay? How about half an hour?” 

“That works. See you soon pequeña!” Alba grabbed her older sisters arm, pulling her away from the door. You slid down the back of yours once it was firmly closed. You needed to think of the perfect lie. Maybe you could say he was too tired, or stuck in traffic. No that wouldn’t work, if he was stuck in traffic they’d wait. The truth wasn’t an option. There’s no way you could just blurt out that you didn’t know where he was. 

The dinner was uncomfortable, the food was delicious but the unasked questions were making a lot of tension. You didn’t miss the way Alba and Eli continued to glance at you, or how their eyes went wide when you asked for more. This definitely cemented that something was wrong. 

The loud clattering of Alexia’s fork and knife, stopped you from shoveling more food in your mouth. 

“This is ridiculous. Pequeña, where is your papi?” 

“Don’t know.” You spoke nonchalantly, putting more food into your mouth. Confused looks where thrown around. Eli’s head slowly reaching for yours and taking the fork, “sweetheart, what do you mean you don’t know?” 

“I don’t know. He could be stuck at work, or in traffic or asleep.” I shrugged. It was a semi decent lie. 

“Does he leave for long periods often?” 

“No. It’s usually just a few days.” 

“Where does he go?” 

To get high, to fuck hookers, to steal, “work trips.” 

Thankfully the subject was dropped as Eli gave you back your fork. It didn’t feel like Christmas, no gifts were exchanged, no decorations or Christmas movies. It felt like a Sunday after church, all that was left was a trip to Camp Nou to watch a game but that wasn’t going to happen. Not now, not ever again. 

Eli sent you home when a lot of leftovers, ignoring the comments from her own two daughters that they would’ve liked to have some too. It was enough food for at least a month. You’d eaten plenty at dinner so the need for food tomorrow would be less. 

The following week was a blur. There was only two training sessions and school was off until after the New Year. Your father had yet to make a reappearance and due to the holidays, you were hiding in the house so you wouldn’t have to see any three of the Putellas women and answer questions. 

It worked, for three weeks, until the night you had planned to sleep in the same storage room as usual. Alexia appeared, fresh out of the shower. 

“Pequeña? What are you still doing here? It’s late.” 

“I lost track of time. I was studying.” 

“How are you getting home? Is your papi coming?” 

“No. I’m catching the bus.” You felt guilty lying to her, but it was the best option. No one would get hurt this way. 

“Let me drive you home. It’s late and you really shouldn’t be catching the bus.” 

Before you could argued, she’d grabbed the straps of your bag, dragging it and you along to her car. It was an awkward 40 minutes. Her car was much more comfortable than the bus, warmer and safer. You were still on high alert, especially when she was asking you questions. 

For the past five years you didn’t let anyone get close. It was easier that way. You didn’t have to explain the tiredness that was evident on your face, the random bruises that happened, the obvious weightless from the lack of food. 

From that moment on you silently agreed to keep everyone further way. You had to be more careful, no more roaming the halls after training. No more asking Eli for milk, or bread, or anything. Leaving extra early in the morning or as soon as training ended. No more being vulnerable. 

The day of your 16th birthday was supposed to be a good one. However your father had other plans. You’d been training with the senior team due to some injuries and then needing players, Jona had told you last night he would play you after halftime. A senior debut on your 16th birthday. 

That night you’d come home so incredibly happy only for it to come crashing down when your extremely intoxicated father decided to start a fight over the lack of money. He didn’t stop hitting you for what felt like hours. You weren’t sure if you passed out from the pain or from the exhaustion but you knew the following day it would be hell. 

The house was littered with used needles, smashed and empty bottles, and it smelt of cigarettes and stale booze. Your arms and legs were covered in bruises as well as a shiner on your face. That one would be the hardest to cover. it took an hour and large amount of makeup before you were confident about leaving the house. The bruise was mostly covered. You didn’t think it was that obvious though. The looks you received on the bus, and even as you walked through the halls, didn’t make you question your makeup job. 

True to his word, jona put you on in the 75th minute, subbing Salma off. It was electrifying, a rush you’d never felt before. Then game ended with a win, of course, there was a lot of praise from the older girls. Mario was incredibly impressed and offered to work with you more if you were interested. Something you immediately said yes too. Your bubble was burst when Alexia came over to tell her Eli was there and wanted to see you. 

The moment you were within arms reach of Eli, she could tell something was wrong. So could Alexia’s girlfriend, Olga, who she had just introduced you too. After chatting a bit more, Eli demanded she would take you home, making you hurry to gather your belongings in the locker room, forgoing a shower as you didn’t bring makeup to re-cover the bruise on your face. 

“Olga you need to help her with makeup.” Alba joked before hugging her sister goodbye. Olga and Eli shared a concerned looked. 

“Why is she wearing make up?” 

“Mami she’s 16. Teenagers wear makeup all the time. It doesn’t mean anything.” Eli shook her head, there was something wrong but she didn’t know what or how to ask you. 

“Ale, keep an eye on her yeah?”

“Olga she’s fine. She’s just a teenager.” Olga’s eyes pleaded with her, “si fine. I will watch over her.” 

Two weeks later things came crashing down horribly. You’d been moved into the senior squad officially, that came with perks. More money was the main one. It would only be a few months until you’d officially graduate high school, that meant you could pick up a part time job as well as football. What you didn’t account for was your father. 

When you walked in the door you were greeted with a random lady and a little boy, no older than 3, your father was very quickly shoving things into boxes and taping them up. 

“What’s going on?” Neither of the adults spared a glance at you. 

“I’m leaving. Thea and I are moving to Madrid.” 

“I can’t leave papi! The season is still going and i haven’t finished school yet!” 

“Good thing you weren’t invited then.” The last scoffed, flipping her son to the other hip. Your eyes were wide. Not believing what you were hearing. 

“Tomorrow, the moving truck will be here. You need to be gone by then.” 

“Wait! Where will I go? You can’t leave me here!” You yelled after them as they left the apartment. No longer caring who heard or who saw. 

“You’re not my problem anymore. I couldn’t care less about what you do or don’t do.” He turned to leave, “you could do the world a favour and hang yourself like your mother did.” With that he was gone. The apartment was mostly empty. 

You found the two biggest bags that you could carry. Filling one with all your football stuff, the other with you clothes, the few jumpers of your mothers that you had left, a sleeping bag and pillow. In your school backpack you packed your laptop and all the school work, plus your important documents (birth certificate, photo IDs, passport.) 

Though you had no idea where you would go, you knew you’d figure it out. What you didn’t account for was Eli. of course she would notice the moving vans, and the lack of you. 

Every second night you’d leave the training facility, set on finding somewhere that was semi safe to sleep. Even though it was the start of February, you knew the beach would be ok. There was enough light to keep you safe, you also had a little knife you stole from your father along time ago. 

The last morning before it all went to shit, you were sitting with your bags, still in your sleeping bag, watching the sunrise. Barcelona was quiet at this time of the morning. A few runners or cyclists around but other than that it was peaceful. 

“Pequeña? What are you doing here so early?” A semi familiar face dropped in front of you, startling you out of your thoughts. Unable to talk, you just stared at her. “I’m Olga, Alexia’s girlfriend. We met a couple of weeks ago. Do you remember?” 

I nodded, she continued on, “what are you doing here? Did you sleep here?”

“What? No! No I just like coming here in the mornings!” I hurried to get up, quickly shoving my things back into my bags, that’s when the knife dropped on the sand, right in front of Olga. We both stopped and stared at it. 

“Pequeña-“

“I better go. Enjoy your day.” I quickly picked it up and all but ran towards the bus stop. My thoughts were spiralling. She was going to tell Alexia. I wouldn’t be allowed to play, I’d be sent away somewhere else. 

Training was hell. No matter how much you tried to avoid Irene, Marta or Alexia they always appeared. It didn’t seem that Olga had told Alexia or that anyone else knew but it was only a matter of time. All you needed was a few weeks, just to get through the Copa de la Reina final and then you could figure it out. 

Thankfully the week went fast and the game on the weekend was a success. There were no more run ins with Olga, or any of the captains of the team. You went as far to complete ignore Eli, Alba and Olga after the game. Quickly running into the locker room and showering before anyone else. 

It was harder to hide in the facility after home games. It was busy with trainers, medical staff, admin staff, basically everyone but you figured it out. It was a restless sleep, the close call with Olga playing in your mind on repeat. 

Unbeknownst to you, Eli had mentioned it to Alexia at their usual family dinner post match. 

“Nena moved.” 

“To where?” Both Alba and Alexia’s head shot up. 

“I don’t know. She didn’t say anything. I heard her papi say Madrid. I’m assuming she isn’t joining since she’s still playing here.” 

“I’ll find out.” Olga knew in that moment she needed to come clean about finding you on the beach. Clearly you didn’t have somewhere safe to stay. Later that night, when it was just her and Alexia cuddled in their bed she did just that. 

“I saw Nena at the beach the other morning.” 

“Likely place for her to be. She has mentioned loving the beach in the past.” Alexia dismissed what Olga was saying, not particularly understanding why that was important. 

“No ale. I think she slept there. She had a sleeping bag and heaps of stuff.” 

Silence encapsulated the couple. “I’ll deal with it.” was all the captain said before rolling over and going to sleep. Expect, she didn’t sleep. She played through every interaction she’d had with you, every imagine of you in her mind. You looked tired, the light behind your eyes was gone, you had fully retreated back into your shell, barely talking at training or games, only answering questions when directly asked. 

Something was definitely wrong, very very wrong. Enlisting the help of Irene and Marta and Olga, they would find out exactly how wrong it was. 

It was evident when you came into training that you hadn’t slept, the truth was that the beach no longer felt safe. Not after that creepy man was watching you. Staying at the facility every night wasn’t an option, neither was staying with a teammate. So you stay at the train station all night. It was relatively safe, but the thought of that man kept you awake. 

You’d gotten half way through the day when you snapped. Usually you’d try and stick to Caro or Keira’s sides. Caro because she was quiet and Keira because she couldn’t exactly understand you and you couldn’t understand her. Unfortunately the gym groups were assigned differently today, meaning you got stuck with Mapi, Pina, Patri and Cata. The group of people you hated being around the most. There was never a quiet moment, they were always loud. So incredibly loud. 

It was after Mapi had ruffled your hair for the third time that you mumbled for her to stop. 

“We can’t hear you gallina. Speak up.” Patri laughed. 

“I said, don’t touch me. And don’t call me gallina.” Your patience was thinning, and fast. 

“Cheer up gallina. We are just playing.” Mapi went to ruffle your hair again, your hands landing on her chest and shoving her back into Cata. 

“I said don’t fucking touch me Maria!” Everyone stopped, turning in horror to see the scene unfold. Tears welled in your eyes, you bolted as fast as you could. 

“Nena-“ Ingrid tried to grab your wrists but you dodged her. 

Alexia, Irene and Marta all stopped what they were doing. It was extremely unlike you to be so aggressive and rude. No matter how shy you were, you always used your manners. They all shared a look before following you to the locker room. 

You rushed through the locker room trying to get your bags packed as fast as possible. You had no idea where you would go, but you needed to get out of here. Far away from the sympathetic looks of your teammates. You were so far in your own head that you didn’t hear the cleats on the floor or the door to the locker opening. 

“Nena? What’s wrong?” Irene’s hand on your shoulder startled you. 

“Nothing I’m fine. I need to go.” You shrugged her hand off you, putting your backpack on and grabbing your duffle that contained your pillow and sleeping bag. 

“Please let us help Nena. We want to help you but we can’t if you don’t let us.” Marta spoke up next, as you looked up you saw that Alexia was standing between you and the door, the only route out of the locker room. 

“Please move. I want to go home.” 

“Home? Where is that Nena? It’s not in Mollet del Vallès. I know that much.” 

You squeezed your eyes shut and took a deep breath, yelling at your captains was a horrible idea, truly horrible. Even in this mental state you knew that, “I do not want to be rude Alexia, but it’s none of your business. I come here, I train, I play, I do as I am told, I don’t make trouble or do anything wrong. Please let me leave.” 

Alexia looked troubled. You needed help, that much was clear, but you were right. You did everything that was asked of you, never complaining or whining about it. She looked to Irene for help, Irene simply nodded and alexia moved. 

“If you need help, somewhere to stay, you have my address and you know where Mami is.” 

A curt nod was all she received and then you were gone. As fast as you could walk without causing any attention to yourself. You spent the next few hours walking around. When it was dark and late, the train station was where you headed. It wasn’t until you were comfy that you realised you grabbed the wrong bag. You left your sleeping bag and more importantly your phone charger at the training facility. There wasn’t much that could be done now, you just had to wait it out. 

As you walked into training, you could feel everyone’s eyes on you. You were late, never have you been late before. The lack of proper sleep, nutrition and your body always on high alert was getting to you. By the end of training you were exhausted. Barely having the energy to walk into the locker rooms to shower. Usually when someone was late without giving a proper warning, they’d run laps. No one told you to run laps so you didn’t. 

A few days later, at the beach, Olga saw you again. This time you looked worse than before. She made her way to a local bakery, getting water, coffee and something for you to eat before making her way back towards you and hoping you wouldn’t run off. 

“¿Niña? Can I sit with you?” She startled you, that much was obvious but you nodded and she handed over everything she bought. 

“Why are you here?” 

“I like the beach.” 

“You’re sleeping here?” She could tell you were scared, it took a while for you to reply. 

“Only sometimes.” 

Olga nodded, the silence settling over the both of you. “Let me take you to training?” 

The drive seem to take forever. It was uncomfortable, Olga wanted to get more information out of you, you wanted nothing more then to be swallowed into a black hole. 

“Niña? If you don’t have anywhere safe and warm to stay, please come to mine and Ale’s? We won’t be mad, or disappointed. We want to help you. Okay?” 

You gave her a small nod, moving to wipe your tears and get out of the car. Unbeknownst to the both of you, Alexia was in her own car a few metres away watching the whole thing. 

It took a day for Alexia to coax all the information out of Olga but when she finally did, she was heartbroken. The thing she had hoped wasn’t true, was in fact true. You were living on the street. Sleeping wherever you could, your papi had left you to fend for yourself. It’s not that you were doing a horrible job at it, but it was obvious you weren’t eating or sleeping enough. 

The night of the El Classico is when things went truly horrible. Alexia had told Irene, Mapi and Marta what had happened but any time they tried to talk to you, you literally ran away.

The streets of Barcelona were well and truly alive. The Madrid fans had left the Johan feeling annoyed, angry and disappointed. Anyone would when their team lost 7-0. It probably wasn’t the smartest idea to sleep on the beach that night, but there truly wasn’t anywhere else. The train station would’ve been worse, the facility wouldn’t be quiet until after midnight, and there was no way you’d go to a teammates house. 

You’d only just drifted to sleep when you heard the group of guys approaching. They were drunk, that much was obvious. Pretty quickly you woke yourself up, but you didn’t dare to move. Maybe they would just keep walking. Your back was facing the sea, and them but as soon as they laid their hands on you, you turned around. 

“Oye, it’s the Barca puta.”

“You’re the reason we lost.”

“We should break her legs!” 

The fear set it. As soon as the hits started, they ended. Not only had they assaulted you, but they had stolen your school bag that contained your laptop, water bottle and phone charger. It look a while for the pain to become tolerable. you could recognise that you were bleeding, your ribs hurt, along with your arm, head and leg. You were scared and alone. 

Abandoning the beach, you made your way to the one place you could think of. The two women who had urged you time and time again to let them help you, you had refused but right now you needed it more than anything. With the help of your phone maps, you managed to get to their apartment. It took a lot longer than it should have, having to stop every now and then to take deep breaths when the pain was too bad. 

You weakly raised your fist to the door, the energy was zapped out of you. It felt like forever before someone answered. 

“Hol- holy fuck. Alexia! Come here neña. Let me help you. ALEXIA!” Olga answered the door, annoyed that someone was knocking so late at night. The minute she opened it, she wanted to cry. You were stood there, bloodied and bruised. Seemingly out of it, looking so small and frightened. 

She starting leading you to the kitchen when alexia finally came, “what? Oh my god, pequena! What happened?” 

“Hurt.”

“Where hurts neña?”

“Head bleeding… arm broken, I think… maybe ribs… leg too. Stole my school bag.” Alexia was freaking out, the usual calm, stoic captain was on the verge of tears. 

“We need to call the police Olga! And mami and Irene and-“

“Ale stop. Neña, drink this yes? Alexia is going to get the first aid from the bathroom and we are going to clean you up. We will need to take you to the hospital, but that can wait for a few minutes.” She gave alexia a pointed look while she opened the water bottle and helped you drink. 

Their apartment was soft. Very homey and not clinical like you imagined. There were photos of Alexia and her family, Olga and hers, then of them both. There were plants scattered around, a few awards here and there but not many, the one thing that seemed out of place was the dog bed and toys. 

“Dog?” Olga’s eyes followed yours, confused as to what you were asking. 

“Nala. She died last year but we haven’t been able to get rid of her things.”

“Sorry”. Alexia arrived back with the first aid kit, phone to her ear and a lot less panicked but a lot more mad. that stressed you out, Olga picking up on it straight away. Things moved fast from that point. Alexia and Olga cleaned you up the best they could but ultimately decided that you needed the hospital. It was all a blur. One minute you were in their apartment, the next you were in a hospital gown sitting in a room. 

Alexia was non stop pacing, you sat there, wide eyed waiting for her to say something. 

“You can say it.” You whispered. 

Both girls stopped and looked at you confused, “say what pequena?” 

“I told you so’ or ‘you should’ve let me help’, whatever you have planned just say it.” You could no longer look at them, staring down at the floor. You missed the look of heartbreak sweep across both their faces. 

“No no pequena. This isn’t your fault. None of this is your fault. There’s no ‘I told you so’ to be said. You came to use when you needed help, we are here now to help that’s all that matters. Okay?” Alexia slowly reached out to wipe the tears from your face. 

“I’m sorry.” That was it. All three of you were holding each other crying. Time seemed to blend into one second. You got stitches in your eyebrow and on your leg, your arm was in fact broken and a cast was put on. The doctor seemed to talk and talk, none of the words making any sense. It was until you saw the two police officers standing outside that you seemed to snap out of it. 

The doctor left the room, seemingly to talk to the police officers and give them a run down. Olga noticed how on edge you were very quickly. 

“Hey, neña, they are only here to ask what happened okay? You aren’t in any trouble.” 

You stood up quickly, grabbing the bag with your blood stained clothes, “no I need to go. This was a mistake.” 

“Go where pequena?” 

“They are going to take me away! I don’t have anywhere to live Alexia! Papi left. He got rid of the house. Mami is dead. I have no where so I’m going to leave before they can take me.” 

“Neña no.” Olga moved to block the door. She is small. You could take her, you thought. “You’re staying with us. They aren’t going to take you because you have a home, with us. You will stay as long as needed.” 

Alexia and Olga hadn’t exactly had the conversation about it, but they both seemed to be able to read each other’s minds. They were going to take care of you, love you like your parents should have. Sure you’re 16, almost an adult. But everyone needs a parental figure, no matter the age. 

“No. You two have your own life, I’m not your responsibility. I can take care of myself, I have been for years.” 

“But you can’t neña. You can’t get an apartment, or a phone plan, or your drivers licence. If you’ll let us, we will take care of you.” You were considering it, really considering it. Having a proper bed, proper meals, somewhere safe? It sounded like heaven. 

“It won’t be easy pequena, it’ll be hard. For all of us. We’ll have to learn to trust each other, and learn how to live with each other but it’ll be worth it. You can decorate the room however you want, we will buy you whatever you need.” 

Before the could continue, the police came in. It took a while to answer all their questions. You could see Alexia and Olga holding hands tightly, wincing slightly when you go into detail. 

“What about my school bag? It has all my school stuff and my laptop?” 

“We will look for it, but there’s no promises it’ll be found. Do you have somewhere safe to stay?” 

“With Alexia and Olga.” You could visibly feel the tension leave both the women. The officers asked Alexia and Olga to step out with them to talk, you took a few moments to gather your thoughts. How had things changed so much. You were just a kid, yet you were forced to look after yourself like you were an adult. You wanted to be vulnerable, to have someone take care of you. Sometimes all we need is a little love. 

Maybe in time, things would get better. 

[lonniemachin]

URGENT: HELP A PALESTINIAN FAMILY SURVIVE FAMINE

My friend Ahmed's fundraiser for he and his family trapped in Gaza is STAGNATING at NO DONATIONS IN 2 DAYS. What's more, this fundraiser aims to help them survive the brutal winter amidst an active genocide and aid blockade preventing them from finding food at any reasonable price. Ahmed tells me his children go to bed hungry and that famine is killing his people. With three kids all under 5, a wife, and himself to feed, he needs €1,000 per month to be able to live without using the funds he raised to evacuate, which he's already had to do. Money he needs to be able to escape this nightmare the occupation forces his family to endure.

Please give what you can. They need €100 PER DAY FOR THE NEXT 7 DAYS TO HAVE ENOUGH FOR NOVEMBER. WE CAN DO THIS, WE'VE DONE IT BEFORE. PLEASE HELP KEEP MY FRIEND AND HIS FAMILY ALIVE.

€0/€100 DAILY GOAL.

Vetted by el-shab-hussein and nabulsi (line 68). I've also seen multiple modes of verification, set the family up with their beneficiary, and have witnessed several successful bank transfers. Ahmed has also given me forms of verification to provide to donors who request it. DM me if it will secure your donation.

Tagging for reach under the cut. If you can't donate, PLEASE at least reblog.

@2spirit-0spoons @0047silver @catgirl-lenin @prisonhannibal @leonardcohenofficial

@shehzadi @womenintheirwebs @that-one-queer-poc @junglejim4322 @tamamita

@log6 @soon-palestine @albertserra @komsomolka @charlott2n

@rimonoroni @furryprovocateur @zvaigzdelasas @evilsanlang @abla-soso

@pyaasa @pregnantseinfeld @hazeltongzhi @vague-humanoid @tortiefrancis

@relelvance @f1dyke @metamatar @ponyboyfaceshopping @pussyronin

@pitbolshevik @goldenspirits @capricornpropaganda @7amaspayrollmanager @vicholas

@caleblandrybones @capacity2 @shivroy @tierras @stemmonade

@1995lahaine @brownpaperhag @papasmoke @furiousfinnstan @rivertigo

@pikslasrce @omtai @carfuckerlynch @aristotels @serial-unaliver

@halalchampagnesocialist @spooksier @jonahmagnus @artemis-pendragon @lesbian-hannibal

@turtletoria @bulkhummus @sm0kebreaks @doubleca5t @wuntrum

[idleray-av]

PLEASE SHARE THIS POST

EMERGENCY COMMISIONS || PLEASE CONSIDER HELPING ME

PLEASE DONT SCROLL

This is me - Carl or Ray! And I REALLY need to move out of my place of residence as soon as possible. The reason of the emergency is that I need to get out of a toxic environment ASAP The big problem is my mother, who is NOT mentally stable. She treats me very ambivalently: at first good, then suddenly horrible. She threatens me with violence, and plays on my emotions and mental health. She is often transphobic towards me, doesn't value my opinion at all, and if I don't agree with her, she starts a scandal and threatens me.

She doesn't care that I'm haunted by suicidal thoughts, saying that it's my own fault and that I would finally LEAVE THE WORLD, and then she abruptly changes her position, deceiving me with words, saying that:

"I just ACCIDENTALLY said it, it wasn't what I meant"

And then again it loops in a circle: scandals, threats and, that I just misunderstood it all and that it was my own fault. She is trying her best to keep me in her house, telling me I can't go anywhere because I'm not capable of doing anything.

My mom said herself that despite the psychologist's recommendation to go to sessions too, she says she doesn't have time and she's old, she just has such nerves and it's NOT a bad thing.

She's not a very b*stard. I live in a warm place and have everything, but her mentally is not stable. Accusations, threats of violence that she will start the same way she did when she was a child and verbal abuse towards me. All her negativity towards me, I am not going to take it anymore, I have enough frayed nerves and tears as it is. I don't feel safe in this house. I don't want it to continue..

…. It hurts to be around her anymore, so I need your help to move out of this place.

So, I open commissions to get enough money so I can pay for tickets, luggage and move out! And also, to have enough money to get by.

DONATE - PayPal, Patreon, Boosty

- HOW BOOSTY WORKS?

— THE ANSWER ! [CLICK!!!]

IF YOU TAKE A COMMISIONS, I WILL GIVE YOU A LINK TO THE DISCORD SERVER, WHERE THERE WILL BE A LIST OF INFORMATION ABOUT YOUR AND OTHER ORDERS - WHO IS AT WHAT STAGE OF DRAWING!

IT'LL MAKE IT EASIER FOR ME.

AND YOU CAN ALSO WRITE AND ASK QUESTIONS THERE! MORE DETAILS ON THE DIS CHANNEL «INFO FOR MY COMMISSIONERS»

DETAILS:

I TAKE FULL PAYMENT IN ADVANCE

• Do not forget about the commission on the transfer in the price list is not specified!

Payment is via PayPal//Patreon//Boosty - INTEREST IS NOT INCLUDED IN THE FEE AMOUT. PayPal ~2,9 - ~3,9 percent. Patreon charges ~5 percent. Boosty charges ~10 percent.

(A website that will help you calculate how much extra you will have to pay! - https://percentagecalculator.net // https://kipsl.by/interest-calculator safe//srs)

MY ENGLISH IS NOT PRETTY GOOD, I MAY NOT UNDERSTAND SOMETIMES. PLEASE BE PATIENT, THANKS!

— By ordering a artwork from me, you acknowledge that you have read all of the following.

— Additional character = +100% of the original price

•Prices might change depending on the complexity. Also, from the design of the character.

— The cost of a full background is negotiable in the same DM, not less than 30 USD // 28 € and more.

•Simple background 10-20 USD // 9-18 €

•You can have a light background if you wish, it's free. It's my pleasure to do it.

—After payment, I show you the stages of the work as you wish, if you want!

•We'll figure out the deadline during the conversation, at least a month + may depend on my workload.

•Take into account that I can get sick unexpectedly. It's my curse that I hate, I get sick a lot.. I will warn you about that!

•If the work is needed by a specific date, we will discuss and most likely the price will change from how quickly you need to finish.

If you're not sure how your character would look in my style (or stylistics?) you can ask for a sketch sample but there will be a watermark from me.

I can refuse an order without telling you the reason.

-

I draw:

• SFW.

•OC//Characters

• Fandoms (I can refuse) // Fanart // Fancharacters

• Objects//Symbols//AmongUS (I can objecthead//symbolhead)

• Robots//mechanism (I can refuse)

• Humans, aliens, monsters, demons, spirits and the like!

• Ship art (But not with real persons unless they're already partners)

• Portrait of real people

• Insects (except flies, etc.)

• Horror, blood, gore, etc. (+ can realistic)

• My characters//sona to your order (I can refuse)

-

I don't draw:

• Furry, anthro//feral and other animals, lizards, dragons, ponies, etc.

• Very huge complex designs//constructions

• Real people (Exactly like a cartoon)

• Anime

• Anything to do with politics, racism, humiliation of the lesser, p*d*, inc*st and that kind of stuff. All weirdsussy stuff- Ugh.

Maybe that's all…

-

At your own risk (I DUNNO how to draw this stuff...):

• NSFW//erotic. (+50 USD // 45 €)

• Pokémon (not all of them, I don't draw fur/very beast-like ones).

• Musculature.

• Fetishes (Additional fee at the agreed price // I can refuse)

-

More details:

— I CANNOT RETURN YOUR MONEY.

• Keep in mind - if you have already paid and work has started, but suddenly you changed your mind, the money will NOT be refunded. YOU CAN'T CANCEL YOUR ORDER.

— I WILL NOT ACCEPT AN ORDER IF:

• No normal reference//no art with the character in fullbody size for a complete picture.

— You can request not to publish the order // add a watermark to it.

Know that I may use your order when I bring examples of my work!

— Edits are free at any stage, BUT except for huge edits (change the pose during the line with painting // change in general completely the background when it is almost ready, etc.) here already at a negotiated price fixing.

[reality-detective]

Your thoughts on this folks?

Americans have been watching a massive, controlled Military Operation who strategically and critically planned and successfully trapped the Washington Establishment… Made them all confess their crimes and play a role in this operation piece by piece… as Americans have had to visually see and witness a ‘Continuation of Government’ in the form of a “Presidential Administration” where these corrupt and evil people will, have, and will continue to destroy their system from within, spend all of their dirty money doing so, until it’s time for the Military to visually step in.

The timelines all add up and prove the Military Operation and Occupancy:

1.     Snake Poem read by candidate Donald Trump – January 2016

2.     2016 Presidential Election – November 2016

3.     President Elect Trump and Putin on Fox News = “ready for ‘reset’… I will work with Trump” – November 9, 2016

4.     Law of War Manual (Military Occupancy and Negotiations etc.) – December 2016

5.     Military Justice Act (Supreme Court clarifying Military Law is separate than Civil Law; heavy emphasis on Military Tribunal terms) – 2016

6.     Military stands behind CIC Trump (Military Intelligence and JAG head bands; Optics) at Inauguration – January 2017

7.     Saudi Arabia crowns Trump King – May 2017

8.     Declares Jerusalem Capitol of Israel – December 2017

9.     Executive Order 13818 – Declares National Emergency to deal with Human Rights Abuse – December 2017

10. CIC Trump walks in front of Queen – July 14, 2018

11. Putin hands CIC Trump soccer ball (“the ball is in your court”; did not participate in 2022 World Cup) – July 16, 2018

12. Executive Order 13848 – September 2018

13. CIC Trump makes history; walks into North Korea – June 2019  

14. National Quantum Initiative – Executive Order 13885 – August 2019

15. Space Force established as Military Branch – December 2019

16. Corona Sars Virus first mentioned to American Public as a Threat from China – February 2020

17. Two more National Emergencies Declared – March 13 and 27, 2020

18. Executive Order 13912 Federalizing 1,000,000 National Guard to Active-Duty Status – March 27, 2020

19. CIC Trump quote on attack worse than Pearl Harbor and 9/11 combined – May 2020

20. National Guard Troops place fence around Capitol Building (47 US Code 606) – January 2021

21. CIC Trump receives full grade Constitutional by Law and Military Grade Inauguration ceremony – January 20, 2021

22. “Joe Biden” breaks 20th Amendment amongst many other violations – January 20, 2021

23. Aircrafts constantly over and through 33 mile no fly zone radius D.C. – January 2021 to present day

24. “Biden” extends Executive Order 13848 (first time) – September 2021

25. Quantum.gov launched – September 2021

26. New York Times reports Military Tribunals coming mid-2023 – December 2021

27. Army and branches transfer all communications to Space Force under ONE command (Biden’s never mentioned the Space Force not once; zero News Articles with his name tied to Space Force) – August 2022

28. Major Optics and Comms in CIC Trump speech – November 15 2022

29. More News Articles establishing Space Force Command Centers with zero mention of Biden – December 2022

Those few timelines and timestamps do nothing but prove a Military Operation and Occupancy along with many more Laws, Codes, Orders, Statutes, Acts, Optics,

The National Guard has been out of their state militia status and operating as Active-Duty Status every day since they were Federalized in March 2020.

There’s MORE than enough documentation and ‘proof’ to show not only the National Guard, but also thousands of World Alliance Aircrafts in and out of the United States and National Guard bases.

There’s United States Coast Guards with United States Navy at their stations. USCG is Department of Homeland Security during Peacetime and transferred to the Department of the Navy during Wartime.

The Brunson vs. Adams case simply states the obvious… Congress violated the Constitution.

- Benjamin Fulford

I will add; everyone thinks they know what's going on but very few have done any research on Trump's executive orders. Everyone has discarded Q because they have seen dates come and go without seeing any results. Fact is they weren't dates but rather chapters and paragraphs from the law of war manual.

We're going by the Book. Why? Because it has to be done by the rule of law, if not, it's just more crimes being committed.

Sun Tzu - The Art of War... Know your enemy, löök weak when you're strong, infiltrate and use disinformation to confuse the enemy. 🤔

[glowl0]

Is there a backstory of your scp oc?

Very much so!

Their full name is Seamus Kelly, but after outliving their only family (pre-963) decided to just go by Kelly (lore dump ahead)

Sean was born after the great war (1920), the youngest child of irish inmigrant parents in the USA. He was very sickly as a child and was often taken care of by his brother, Liam (6 yrs older) as both parents were unavailable (full time working father and emotionally unstable mother).

Whenever he was bedridden (which was often) his older brother would bring him whatever trinkets he would find (this would partly play a part in his collecting and antiquarian tendencies)

Liam had an ability that adult Sean now knew as an scp, he often cured his sibling's reocurring illnesses by somehow transferring whatever the body needed from his own (ex. white blood cells for an infection) although he wasnt really aware of the specifics. He deprived himself so much he eventually succumbed to an illness himself, passing away when Sean's 12.

About 5 years later his mother takes her life, death becomes a sore topic

He starts doing jobs for college money, as his father refused to pay for it due to their economic situation.

He looks for scholarships and because its the cold war, the goverment starts investing in science which also means: foundation scholarships, he finds them through a coworker he often talked with and had mentioned his brother's ability to (under the assumption of it just being child vision)

Once he moves into foundation quarters he cuts off his father, not being in good terms with him. Maybe its something he regrets later, in his thirties, when he is diagnosed with a life threatening illness and doesnt have an inmediate suitale donor, finding that his father passed away from kidney failure way before he even finished his major.

Around this time one of the articles hes in charge of is 963, a safe scp known to produce small fragile gems

It was thought to be used in some sort of healing ritual, as the tomb it was in had other things related to it, but it was clearly defective now, with an empty socket at its center.

Kelly kickstarted further research in an attempt to activate it, at first due to his own masked desesperation to find something that could cure him (he wasnt going to join his family, he wasnt) but after a while his fixation on it wasnt normal, with bouts of euphoria when near it and debilitating anxiety when not

Its a while before anyone realizes the artifact had seemingly stopped producing its crystals, that whoever was in charge of it had never reported it (conveniently Kelly's health is better than ever)

At some point after being suspected, hes detained for trying to take 963 out of its containment, thankfully a colleage was aware of Kellys abnormal behavior and claimed it to be a memetic effect, Kelly was given A class amnestics (this wont work of course, because Kelly's memories arent stored in himself now, its the artifact's)

Before he is relocated a security breach breaks out, and Kelly finds himself going through a path he shouldnt be able to recognice.

He is later found dead wearing the object, and when he is opened up they find the reason why. 963 had fed on his soul and grown its seed inside him, replacing his organs, millions of crystals varying in size, until it found the perfect form that could make it whole.

And somewhere an unfortunate researcher unknowingly woke up with it inside them.

[halalgirlmeg]

PLEASE DO NOT SCROLL WITHOUT REBLOGGING OR DONATING

I have been in contact with a young, woman Shimaa and like many people within her country she is trying to raise money to leave with her family and start over, however, Shimaa has spoken to me about how day to day living is hard and she needs more immediate funds, so I am trying to raise money to help her raise money that she can have more immediate access to. Right now she is asking me to raise 100 dollars to be able to transfer to her.

Right now I have 30 from a donation. So, if 7 people could send 10 dollars, or 14 people send 5, I can send it to her for a cash transfer. I am gathering the money through my PayPal to help her. I will share the link below.

Goal: 30/100

Tagging for reach: @khanger @rhubarbspring @bahrmp3 @orchres @melaninnpink @lowcursedmg

[videodrome-fag]

$2,352/$60,000

I'm once again remaking this post as all the other ones are stagnating.

I am the organizer for this campaign on behalf of Mahmoud Balousha. We met on here a few weeks ago as he was in need of someone to make a GFM for his sister, Maysaa, and her family of 5 to evacuate Gaza.

Maysaa suffers from pulmonary fibrosis and needs oxygen along with a slough of steroidal medicine to manage her condition. Obviously, she is not receiving the care she needs.

Time is of the essence, now, as she and her family have been entirely displaced from their tent in Al-Shati after the attacks on Khan Younis. She is presently taking temporary refuge in Al-Aqsa Martyrs Hospital in Deir Al-Balah and is able to receive oxygen, but we all know how viciously fast things move on the ground in Gaza, and this hospital could very well be rubble within minutes of posting this.

This is a legitimate fundraiser, and Mahmoud has been verified by apollos-olives (they've posted multiple times about this campaign as well as the others for Mahmoud's other sisters.) I have personally sent money out of pocket to help Mahmoud with his daily expenses in Cairo and am currently holding the money from the GFM in my bank account until he is able to receive the next Western Union transfer. All of this information and more, along with receipts for everything, are provided in the GFM.

Please donate, please share, please help! There hasn't been a donation in 2 days, now, and we're miles from the goal.

[dazedasian]

"I am Muhammad, the only child in my family. I became the sole breadwinner for my family of 5 members in the last period before the genocide that happened to my city, after my father went through a severe health crisis. He was planning to travel to have an operation in Egypt, but the war came and his health condition became much worse. This was destroyed. Genocide My ambitions are to continue my education abroad and work on my small project. We were displaced from our house, which was bombed, and miraculously escaped death several times. One time, my sisters were injured from the sudden bombing of a house we had fled to in the middle of the Gaza Strip. We are now on our last stop for survival. In the city of Rafah, there is no guarantee for the lives of any of us. My aunt in Canada tried to get us out, but this requires a lot of costs to cross through the Rafah crossing. As you know, the amounts have become huge, reaching $10,000 per person. I need your support to save my family from this genocide, and I appeal to you. It is necessary to perform an operation on my father before his health condition deteriorates further. You are my only hope for my survival and the survival of my family from this genocide. We understand that these are challenging times for everyone, but whatever amount you can contribute will bring us one step closer to coming out peacefully from this genocide and providing my family with the security they deserve. I thank with all my heart everyone who helps and cooperates to save us. Thank you for your time, and we are sincerely grateful for any support you can provide.

Note: A family friend, Muhammad Al-Zaanin, will receive the money in Germany and transfer the amount to my sister residing in Egypt in order to register with Hala Company to evacuate us safely.

With heartfelt regards,

Mohammed Al Aloul"

[beardeddetectivepaper]

$58,117/87,500

Our Story Hello, my name is Yousef, and I am starting this fundraiser to secure a safer and more stable future for my family who are still living in Gaza, especially amid the ongoing conflict and its escalations that have severely impacted their lives. My sister recently gave birth to a beautiful baby during these challenging times. Her courage brings light into our lives, but the reality they face is threatening. They live in a house that has been severely damaged by the conflict as seen in the top left of the banner, a daily reminder of the dangers they endure. The Impact of War The war has left deep scars. My sister's three young children are growing up amidst constant trauma. The sounds of conflict are part of their everyday lives, a situation no child should ever face. Their education has been disrupted, which is crucial for their future development and prospects. Without the stability of regular education, their future is uncertain, and opportunities are diminishing fast.

Adding to our hardships, my mother, who suffers from chronic diseases of high blood pressure and diabetes, is facing an alarming scarcity of necessary medications. The ongoing conflict has amplified the shortage, putting her health in grave danger every day. My Sister's Education Furthermore, my sister, who was close to completing her degree, now finds her dreams shattered as her university was bombed. The destruction of her university has not only disrupted her education but also added to the uncertainty and instability of our family's situation. Why We Need Your Help We are seeking your support to raise $37,500 to help my family leave Gaza and relocate to a safe environment where the children can attend school regularly and grow up away from the trauma of war. Here is a breakdown of the costs for evacuation: Adults (5 adults x $5,000): $25,000 Children (3 children “including the newborn” x $2,500): $7,500 Relocation support (Initial housing and food expenses): $2,000 Additional Costs (taxes, GoFundMe fees, money transfer fees): $3,000 Every dollar raised goes directly towards the costs of evacuating my family and setting them up for a new start in a safe location, covering travel, initial accommodation, and essential needs upon relocation. How You Can Help Donate: Every little bit helps and brings my family closer to safety. Share: Share this campaign on your social media to increase its reach. We deeply appreciate your support and generosity during these difficult times. With your help, we can provide a new beginning for a young family that has endured the unthinkable. Thank you for reading, sharing, and contributing.

[sirfrogsworth]

All the GoFundMe money is safe and secure and I already paid some mortgage with it.

Like... it wasn't really real in my brain until it finally transferred to the bank. I felt like I was skeptically just taking GoFundMe's word for it until it was deposited. My anxiety was already designing all of these worst case scenarios where people changed their minds and demanded refunds or maybe all 300+ donors had their credit cards rejected or Katrina was abducted suddenly by aliens and taken back to her home planet, Lesbios 5, and all of the account information was lost to the cosmos.

But it all worked out and I have an entire freaking year to get my shit together. I still need to meet with the lawyer. Figure out my social security. Clean out the house. Sell anything I don't need. Junk anything I can't sell. And there are some health goals I would like to try and focus on.

Also, I think I need to escape this house that you all helped save for a bit. It is still haunting me with its unending silence and I would like to visit my best friends for a while. I think I need that to heal. I've never been on an airplane and I have been dreaming of staring out the window since I was a tadpole.

And then, I guess I need to figure out what I want to do with the rest of my life. I could stay here for another 8 years and own this house outright. That would give me a lot of options. I could move closer to my chosen family. I could try to adopt another furry friend.

As far as finding a purpose... I wish I could find a way to do more effective political advocacy--especially for my trans friends. I had this idea for a website called "Build Better Arguments" which would give people tools and scripts and content to help them talk to their family and friends about difficult topics in the hopes of changing their minds. Sometimes the only people who can get through to the stubborn are their loved ones. I've actually had multiple people write me about conversations they've had with parents and uncles and grandmas based on arguments I've made in my essays, and they helped move the needle of understanding. And I've always wondered if I could do that on a larger scale, could it translate to larger change?

I don't know.

But it's something I've been thinking about.

I just wish my purpose wasn't so limited by my health. There are only so many things I can do. But hopefully I can figure out something that fulfills me.

[lonniemachin]

2 DAYS TO COMPLETE AHMED'S CAMPAIGN GOAL

Thanks to a very generous donor, my friend Ahmed and his family's GoFundMe campaign to escape Gaza has reached €39,525/€40,000! This means they only need €475 to be able to complete their current goal and move onto raising money for survival efforts, as well as to supplement the funds they lost dipping into their evacuation money and from tax withdrawals! When their campaign was created in April of 2024, before the closure of the Rafah crossing, a goal of €30,000 was set to secure safety for Ahmed, his wife Maram, and their children Habiba, Kareem, and baby Muhammad. We did not know how long it would take or just what it would take to get there, but we've managed to surpass it, every euro going towards sustaining 5 precious human lives amidst terror and genocide.

I ask that you please continue supporting them and help them reach their goal of €40,000 within the next 2 days so that they may achieve it by 11/01/2024. If the border opens, they MUST be ready to pay their way, and they MUST stay together -- I can't imagine the pain and horror of having to leave a loved one behind in so much danger because we were unable to raise funds in time.

Vetted by el-shab-hussein and nabulsi. I have also been in consistent contact with the family for months, helped set them up with their beneficiary, have witnessed multiple successful transfers to Ahmed's bank account, and have seen multiple official modes of verification.

Tagging for reach under the cut.

@pinchan @annelidist @so-3i3 @thegalacticidiot

@possessedscholar @solcarow @getosugurusbangs @medusadyke @sabrsiren

@widowmaker @grimauxiliatrixofficial @cryoglaze @yaoisaint @hospitalroom

@mahoushojoe @tallwife @jasperspritez @sketchdeath

@butchcockiness2 @dickgumshoesconfettishredder @rinablet @kyannnite @tieflingkisser

@milfygerard @anistarrose @styx1an @tldrgender @frozenknight

@idontthinkitwillhurtifyousmile @fagreus @sonic06apologist @testosterone-dyke @science-bastard

@dykeonysus @melonbride @tuulikki @hjarta @sexynugget

@salemruinseverything @bifrosted-flakes @thou-art-of-the-stars @sweetums0kitty @myqueenmarceline

@oorevitcejda @yellowwperil @sandersgrey @ofide @rukafais

@officialpenisenvy @theonpilled @fleurrice @tetrafelino @think-queer

@timothylawrence @roakkaliha @lostacelonnie @huzni @laurajameskinney

@gamb0fficial @vincentspork @teabisexual @officialscud @evilponds

@dinodamage @yurischolar @lune-tic @lipid @newporters

@witticismz @dovv @capricornpropaganda @iso7010 @palentonga

@parsleyrosemarybotch @tadpoledyke @userpeggycarter @thedigitalbard @melon-colli

@demilypyro @stuckinapril @lesbocrocker @kahin @chososhairbuns

@zamanassad @wayneradiotv @jihaad @evillesbianvillain @valtsv

@gabajoofs @goldenspirits @scarletlich @rongzhi @marxistcomedy

@hunybody @hotvampireadjacent @carfuckerlynch @h-isforhome @ibtisams

@seravph @horreurscopes @maxellminidisc @theunstablejester @heritageposts

@ijaazat @grecoromanyaoi @kermitlesbian @arunima @tunisian

[boolger]

I’m dangerous ☆ chapter 8 ☆ COD fanfic

Originally posted on my AO3, where I post all my stuff. Always read the tags of my fanfics. MDNI

[Chapter 1] ☆ [chapter 2] ☆ [chapter 3] ☆ [chapter 4] ☆ [chapter 5] [chapter 6]☆ [Chapter 7] ☆ [chapter 8] ☆ [Chapter 9]

☆ fem!reader x Kate Laswell ☆ explicit. MDNI. ☆ 8/10 ☆ 1,690 words

☆ Summary: You were a hacker and had been a thorn in the side of the 141 gang for a while, in particular as you tried to find out who the famous leader, Watcher, was. But they refuse to be blackmailed and won’t pay you.

So, to prove that you weren’t just bluffing, but were a serious threat to them, you kidnapped a random woman that you saw coming out from one of their meetings, figuring she was a secretary or girlfriend or something.

Oh, how wrong you were.

☆ Tags: au mob, gang, kidnapping, blackmailing, dub-con, angst, smut, death, grief/mourning, hacking, non-con drug use, bondage, spanking, kissing, rough sex, inaccurate portrayal of mob, suicidal thoughts, mention of blood, violence, more will be added

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

You packed everything important; papers, photos, clothes, electronics. You broke and soaked the information on hard disks that you didn’t need. Cried for about an hour on the couch, wondering why the fuck Kate would do this.

Every bill from the hospital was paid. Every single one and the hospital ended their letters with “we hope to see you again!”. 

As if.

There was money in your bank account too. Over 20 grand, just sitting there, transferred from an account overseas, but you didn’t need to be a genius to know that it was from her. Though this had been what had gotten you into this mess from the start, this was why you had even kidnapped Kate Laswell.

You should be ecstatic. Alice would be happy for you. You could move, abandon the house out in nowhere, escape with memories of your sister and you, laughing and crying together.

… memories of running, feet burning beneath you, of your burning ass, of pleasure… and of a face battered in by a fucking Shakespeare book. The constant thumping sound of a book connecting with the face, getting wetter and wetter, the feeling of the nose bending beneath it. Of the fear that ran through you as you watched Phillip Graves raising a gun at Kate.

After crying, packing everything into your shitty car which was filled to the brim with gasoline.

So you wouldn’t have to tank up for a while. So you could leave immediately, so you could abandon them all without any problems.

You found her knife in the car, beneath the seat, when you tried pushing a back under it. The butterfly knife was a silver coating, simple and clearly expensive. You opened it, looking at the sharp blade. It was like a last reminder of Kate. Expensive, well-designed and still dangerous as fuck.

Like a sign. You put it in your pocket. Closed all the car doors and got into it. Taking one last look at the old house, in the middle of nowhere, between fields and with the gentle humming of the highways. With an overgrown lawn, left to live its own life while you stayed at the hospital with Alice.

All the pictures, the clothes you had left of her, her books and CDs, everything you connected with Alice was in the van, neatly packed down in bags and then boxes, so they wouldn’t get wet. It annoyed you that you could pull the memories of the two of you from the house and pack it down too, to make sure they were safe and secure.

The rusty blue van started with a roar, like a monster waking up after a nap, growling for a while before agreeing to stay alive. You backed out of the driveway.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Using the horn this early in the morning was honestly rude, yet you found yourself honking, already annoyed with waiting.

The dress you wore had screamed your name when you packed it away the day before. You didn’t wear dresses often, preferring hoodies and such, but when you had woken up in the motel this morning, you had put it on. A babydoll dress in black that Alice had convinced you to buy years ago but you had never used it. Not before now.

You honked again, your van’s engine growling along.

It echoed through the neighbourhood, into the rest of the London traffic. Finally something happened and the little system next to the gate turned on, scratching for a moment.

“What do you want?” Ghost’s voice sounded a little tired, but as annoyed as you assumed he had been with you the entire time, barely audible over your god awful van. It was different from when he had kidnapped you back, first choking you out, then interrogating you with Price.

“To talk to her,” you answered loudly. Silence for a second.

“Go away, kid.” He then answered, “she doesn’t want to talk.”

You seethed at the kid. You were 25, not a goddamn child.

“I don’t fucking care I want to talk to her. It the fuckin’ least she can do.” ‘I saved her’ went unsaid.

You could only hear him grumble vaguely over the system, before the gates swung open in front of the car. 

“Thank you.” Your car almost coughed as you made it go forward, rolling into the property. You stopped in front of the main door, your rusty ass art piece standing out next to the dark and fancy SUVs.

One annoyed-looking, robe wearing Kate Laswell stepped out, morning hair a little messy but pulled back into a bun, her blue eyes resting on you. A part of you wanted to scream at her, another wanted to fall to your knees and beg. In the doorframe, both Ghost and Soap stood, watching you like ferocious guard dogs, waiting for the moment to attack. 

When you killed the engine and stopped, everything got much more quiet. You stepped out, standing only a few metres from her.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Kate calmly stated instead of greeting you, a neutral look on your face.

“Fuck you,”  not the best way to start the conversation and you could see Soap’s eyebrows raise behind Kate, but you paid her no mind as you took a step forward, “Fuck you, Kate. I fucking saved you and you disgarded me like a piece of trash.”

“I gave you what you wanted,” Kate remained almost emotionless, tipping up her chin a little, “You said it yourself. You needed the money to pay the bills, to start over somewhere new. I gave you that.”

“Why didn’t you fuckin’ ask me what I wanted?” You asked angrily, clenching your hands, “Did you even fucking care? Bashed in that dude’s face and I was no longer of use to you?”

Kate shrugged but you could see the corner of her mouth twitch, see her shoulders tense a little, “Figured it was better than killing you.”

The urge to scream at her was back and you ran a hand over your face, keeping yourself back from doing so, from giving her the hell you wanted to. 

It was as if your mind wasn’t in control when you stepped closer, reaching into your pocket - ignoring the way the men in the door tensed, as if ready to step in, yank you away from her, push you to the ground –

The folded butterfly knife rested in your hand as you offered it to her.

“This was in my car,” you said, more calm now, not even sure why you made this stupid choice, continuing, voice turning into a whisper, “please don’t make me leave. I’d rather die. Please. I’ll be good for you.”

Kate stared at the knife for a moment, then up at your face again. Something in her eyes softened.

“I’ll be good for you,” you whispered, reiterating that you meant it. Your hand was shaking a little. With your black dress, you weren’t sure if you were dressed to impress or dressed for  your funeral. 

Her hand reached out calmly, to touch the butterfly knife in your hand. But instead of taking it from you, like you had expected, she moved her hand to push your fingers against it. 

“Keep it,” her voice wasn’t loud, her eyes never leaving your face, almost as if she was looking for something. As if this was a ritual of a kind, and you, the black lamb, had willingly come for slaughter - only to be turned down.

This wasn’t really what you had expected and though you tightened the grip around the folded knife, you didn’t move otherwise. She was the sun in your galaxy, the one you would look for and you didn’t know when she had become that. It was fucked up, it was wrong and there were no doubt something toxic about it, it was all messed up.

Kate Laswell stepped even closer. Her hands were soft as they rested on your warm cheeks, framing your face. You had to focus on not crying for a moment. The hand that wasn’t holding the knife came to rest on her elbow, as if to wordlessly beg her to never let go. You wanted to run your hand over the sharp bridge of her nose, wanted to kiss the wrinkles near her eyes, push away the stray long pieces of hair in her bangs, kiss her jaw and breathe in her scent near her neck. 

“I’ve ruined you, haven’t I, darling?” She asked, a tone of sadness clear in the question. You nodded a little, ever so slowly.

“Yeah,” you agreed, “rewritten my code –” your moved your hand from her elbow to rest against the back of one of her hands, nuzzling into her palm a little, “I don’t think I mind, though.”

That was the truth wasn’t it? A fucked up truth, from a broken woman that found somebody other broken in a different way, with a power imbalance between you. Even if she just wanted to keep you around as a fuck toy, you didn’t mind. You had somebody to care about again.

A soft smile appeared on her face.

“No more running away?”

“No,” you answered honestly, adding a sharp, “and don’t send me away again, either.”

A huff left her. “Alright.”

You were the one to initiate the kiss and Kate only deepened it. Finally you slid the knife into your pocket, before putting your arm around her shoulder. The world could have ended around you and you would have been happy. 

You heard a huff from behind her  - you just flipped Ghost off behind Kate’s back, making Soap giggle.

When you pulled away from each other, Kate didn’t even try to bed discreet as she took in your body, your soft curves in the dress, only hidden a little by the jacket. 

“That’s an awfully pretty dress, Fae,” she whispered, slowly licking her bottom lip, licking off the taste of your mind, “I should look at it closer. Preferably in my bed.”

Even as you felt your face heat up, you snickered like a love struck school girl. 

[gfbhfcgtbh]

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[pissingonmonarchy]

Creating an exit plan to become an expatriate (expat) from the United States involves a series of steps, from researching destinations to managing financial and legal obligations. Here’s a general outline to help guide you through the process:

1. Research Destination Countries

• Identify your criteria: Think about climate, cost of living, healthcare, quality of life, tax implications, and visa requirements. Consider how you want to spend your time abroad, like working, retiring, or starting a business.

• Narrow down options: Research countries that align with your criteria. For many Americans, countries in Europe, Central and South America, and parts of Asia are popular because of their expat-friendly environments.

2. Visit Potential Countries

• Plan exploratory trips: Spend a few weeks in each potential destination to experience the local lifestyle, cost of living, and culture firsthand. This can help confirm that a location fits your needs.

• Connect with local expats: Attend events or join expat communities to get insights into life in each country.

3. Understand Visa and Residency Requirements

• Research visa options: Each country has its own set of visa options, like work visas, retirement visas, digital nomad visas, and investment visas. Determine which one aligns with your goals.

• Plan for long-term residency: Many countries offer paths to permanent residency or citizenship. Find out the requirements and start the application process if your target country allows.

4. Prepare Financially

• Create a budget: Factor in moving costs, cost of living, healthcare, taxes, and emergency savings. Make sure your finances will support your lifestyle abroad.

• Understand tax obligations: U.S. citizens must file taxes regardless of where they live. Research your obligations and consider consulting an accountant with experience in expat tax law.

• Set up local bank accounts: Find out if you’ll need a local bank account and research how to transfer money internationally efficiently.

5. Secure Healthcare Coverage

• Look into healthcare options: Some countries offer affordable healthcare, while others may require private insurance. Explore local healthcare systems and check if your target country offers expat health insurance.

• Assess your U.S. healthcare: If you need continued U.S.-based healthcare coverage (like Medicare, which generally doesn’t cover you abroad), consider how you’ll handle medical needs.

6. Tie Up Loose Ends in the U.S.

• Handle legal and financial matters: Consider creating a will, assigning a power of attorney, and updating your legal documents.

• Manage property and assets: Decide whether you’ll rent out, sell, or keep your home and other properties.

• Notify institutions: Inform banks, creditors, insurance companies, and other relevant institutions about your move to avoid complications.

7. Learn the Language and Culture

• Study the local language: Even a basic understanding of the language will help with daily interactions, especially in less expat-heavy areas.

• Understand cultural norms: Adjusting to new customs and social norms will make integration smoother and more enjoyable.

8. Build a Support Network

• Join online communities: Many social media groups exist for expats in various countries. Being part of these groups can ease the transition.

• Stay connected to home: Plan regular calls with family and friends to help with homesickness and maintain relationships.

9. Make the Move

• Arrange for the physical move: Plan your relocation, including moving your belongings, storing items you’re leaving behind, and booking flights.

• Settle into your new home: Take time to get acquainted with your surroundings, set up essential services, and register with local authorities if required.

10. Maintain Flexibility

• Give yourself an adjustment period: The initial months can be a mix of excitement and culture shock. Allow time for adaptation.

• Have an exit strategy: Keep a backup plan in case you decide to return to the U.S. or move to another country in the future.

By planning each step carefully, you’ll create a smooth transition from the U.S. to your new country. Let me know if you’d like specific country recommendations or further details on any step!

[continuous-spec]

ME Fic: Bait (3/5)

Summary: Morinth lured Shepard up to her apartment. Garrus and Samara race to save her.

Length: 2187

Links:  Ao3

A quick ping followed up on Garrus’s omni-tool. Shepard was moving fast towards the Fumi district- most likely a sky car. Garrus pushed his drink to his side and stood. Vlyrica’s hand snatched out and held tightly to his tunic. 

“Are you going after them? Just leave me here?” Her pink accent marks scrunched as she contorted her face in anguish. “Was this some sort of weird kink thing?”

Garrus scoffed, trying to focus and plan for the next step ahead. But Vlyrica was an obstacle, a drunk stumbling obstacle. 

“No, she’s in danger.” Garrus clipped. He gently removed Vlyrica’s hand and scanned the bar. Thinking on his feet, he called attention to the dancer from before. 

“Please make sure she sobers up, okay? Five hundred credits now and five hundred once I’m back.”

“That’s a deal,” the dancer said gleefully, waving her Omni tool and awaiting the transfer. Omega is a dangerous place. Even with the credits, there was no guarantee that she’d be safe, but money still held much power. 

The dancer’s face softened as she approached Vlyrica, ushering her towards a back room. 

“Don’t worry, credits or not, I’ll watch over her. We got to stick together here. What's your name?”

“V..Vlyrica.” Her eyes narrow at Garrus, gulping back anxiety. 

“I’ll be back, I promise.” 

Vlyrica nodded and stumbled along with the dancer to the back of the Afterlife bar. 

Garrus spent a second watching her disappear and was out the door.  He hoped for the best for her but still expected the worst of Omega. He can’t save them all. 

Shrouds of industrial dust clung to Garrus’s vision as he passed through the doors—the haze of crimson neon lights directed out toward the markets.

He brought up his omni tool, Shepard's ping stationary, within a wealthy apartment. 

Samara's arm shot out of the shadows, grabbing his shoulder, and pushed him into the grated metal of a ramshackle vendor.   Her glare into him cut stronger than her words from before. If Morinth gets away, especially at his actions, she will kill him. 

“Garrus, if you…”

“I got their location towards the wealthy district. Let's get a car and move.” Garrus clipped her off. The threats would have to wait until after Shepard was safe. 

Their arrival was quick as they cut through unoccupied side streets. Morinth’s building was on the outer edge of the asteroid, illuminated in the dark red glow of the barriers of Omega.  

Text flashed over Garrus’ omni-tool.

OS: Apartment penthouse floor, only entrance elevator into the room. Biometric entrance. Get here NOW

GV: Distract her as I override the controls. We will be there in 5. 

OS: Hurry

His omni-tool flashed as he bypassed through the system's code. Garrus fought past multiple firewalls, one of the more sophisticated security for Omega he’s encountered. He worked his way into the system within minutes, and the elevator opened. 

Garrus punched the keys to the top floor. The elevator lifted with a slow pull. His mandibles clamped to his jaw. They didn’t have five minutes. Samara stood tall, her barriers blazing tightly to her. An empty stare at elevator doors. She was ready. 

The comms cut back as the elevator ascended, in reach of Shepard. Morinth cool voice slithered into his brain. 

“I love clubs- the heat, the deafening rhythm. Here, it’s muted, and you're safe. But here, at least, I have you all to myself. There are no distractions, no watchers, just us. Is that what you want, Alison?” 

“The safety or you?” Shepard returned with a husky whisper. Confirmation she was still alive. 

The ticking of floors went by slowly. Seventeen, Eighteen, nineteen. Thirty to go. Garrus, with just a pistol, had it aimed and ready. 

“That’s up for you to decide.”

“I want you, Morinth.” Shepard’s voice was calm and sultry. “How do you want me?”  

Garrus imagined her half-lidded green eyes, wanting her to say such things to him. 

Shifting sounds of fabric and couch, a slight moan over the comms, this one more pronounced and longer in their privacy. Garrus wanted nothing more than to switch his comm. Ten more flights and this would be over. 

“Tell me you want me. Tell me you’ll kill for me.” Morinth's voice grew louder as if speaking directly into her comm. 

“I…I want to…I’d kill for you. Anything you want of me.” Shepard's calm, sultry tone was gone, now stilled and drunk-like as she spoke. Garrus punched the floor button to no avail to make the elevator move faster. 

“Shhh. Just relax, my darling, and hear my words. Embrace Ent...” 

Garrus stormed the room, not checking corners, directly lining up a shot on Morinth. Dark black eyes snapped and leered at him. 

Morinth crouched over Shepard, straddling her hips, bite marks redden from Shepard’s chin to her shoulder. Morinth hand gripping her long brown hair in a tight fist at the base of Shepards’s skull. Garrus trained his shot on Morinth’s head, too close to Shepard as she entangled her.

“Garrus…” his name barely fell from her lips, her voice rasped and pained. Before he could respond, Samara warped Morinth, hurdling her into the apartment window. With one fell swoop of her hand, she brought Morinth's body and crumpled her head into the concrete ground. 

With one thud, Samara's daughter, once lively, lay motionless on the floor. Her jaw and eyes opened in horrifying surprise. 

Shepard sprawled out on the couch, face pale and gaunt, her voice shaking.  “I don’t know what happened. I couldn’t move, I could barely think for…”

“It’s her way, Shepard, as I warned,” Samara interjected, placing a calming hand on her back. “It’s over now, thank you.” Samara's voice soothed over Shepard but remained distant. 

Garrus reached out to her, his hand awaiting hers. Shepard placed her hand delicately, almost too carefully, around his forearm.  Cold shock ran through his arm to his shoulder from her freezing fingers. 

Garrus easily brought her to her feet as Samara helped support her. Shepard stumbled in her heels, her face growing more pale. 

“Shepard, are you alr…”  Shepard's hand snatched away from him at his words, almost like a stinging slap. 

“I’m fine!” she snapped, her voice hitched. "I just need to get back to Normandy.” The purple hues of the apartment glinted off her pale face and brightened under her forming tears. 

Shepard pushed them both away, striding towards the elevator. Garrus followed in quick step, hovering to check her balance. 

“Let’s get off this damn asteroid.” Shepard hissed at him as she hit for the ground entrance. 

Samara stayed still, taking in the surroundings of Morinth apartment. 

“Samara, are you coming?” Shepard’s voice was sharp, more of a command than a question.  

“Give me some time with my daughter, Shepard.” Samara knelt over her body, only focused on Morinth. “My duty to you will continue when I am done here.”

Shepard's body straightened, trying to maintain composure and a commanding presence, but her words came out softer. 

“Take all the time you need.”

The sliding doors closed on Samara, who kneeled down and gently closed her daughter's eyes. 

Butler's mouth hung agape, eyes wide in horror, rigor already set. Nothing Garrus could do in his short time could put his face at peace. He tried and tried to close his eyes, but the best he managed was half-lidded and a screaming mouth as he laid the final cover over Bulter’s face. 

A sharp sigh snapped Garrus' attention back to Shepard. Shepard kept her body turned away as they silently faced the elevator doors. Quiet humming music filled the air.

He tried as subtly as he could to steal glances her way. Not sure where her mind dwelled. Her fist clamped tight to her side. 

Tears edged and crowded past her eyelashes. Her hands were quick to wipe them away. 

She caught him looking at her, her heart rate and breathing patterns still erratic and on high alert. She turned to Garrus. Bloodshot veins surrounded her mint green irises. On any other occasion, he’d grow excited and nervous from her stare, but her gaze was glossed over and fogged. 

She was lost to him. 

A heavy sigh parted her lips again. Garrus stood silently, awaiting her. Wordlessly, Shepard bridged the gap between them, resting her head on his shoulder. 

Her hand moved into his, Garrus tightly gripped back. The warmth of her hands radiates past the simple cloth of his glove and tunic. Three within five. 

The elevator doors hushed open, and Garrus half expected Shepard to let go of him. But she continued to cling to him, walking in step into the abyss of Omega together. 

He moved her towards the sky car, but she tugged his hand along. 

“I need to move, walk, anything, please.” Her voice was quiet but pleaded with him. Garrus twitched in discomfort. Walking Omega streets, even in the wealthy district, put him on edge. 

Patrols of guards strolling by still didn’t place him at ease. Guards on Omega were just gang members for hirer.  Red and silver armor, new upstarts, probably within the power vacuum he created. Nothing he did even made a dent here. His men died for nothing. 

The thought of Vlyrica's bright smile flashed by on Garrus. Even if he had just saved one person throughout his two years, that was still dent. He had to remind himself that. He'd hopefully find her sobering up at the Afterlife once this was all done. 

The hums of skycars filled their silence as they crossed the bridge. Orange neon lights glinted the silver dust of element zero that clung in the air.  Garrus steered them towards a more well-lit and populated street, past the markets- a path he had taken hundreds of times. 

They entered the Kima district, only a five-minute walk to his base. His wounds stung as he clamped his mandibles again.  Shepard's free hand massaged his arm, almost as she sensed his tension shift. 

In her distraction, her heel caught in the pot-marked street. A curse left her lips as she fell into Garrus. 

“I want to chuck these off this damn asteroid.”

“Barefoot on Omega is not something I’d suggest unless you want to step in vorcha crap.”

“Or used needles or sewer water.” Shepard pipped in. 

“That or varren blood, rotting trash, probably krogan piss, but that’s not so common for this district,” Garrus jest. 

“You would be the expert.”

“On krogran piss?” 

Shepard let out a guttural laugh that erupted in a large snort. It was Shepard’s laugh. There was no airiness or deceit, just Shepard. “Fine, death trap heels stay on. You can carry me then.” 

“You know I would.” 

Shepard pressed herself into him as they walked. He encircled one arm around her, letting her press against him further.

She stumbled along with him on the ever-lit night of Omega, crowded by the towers and orange neon hue.  Together, they walked the streets of the Kima district—past years of memories of good men now gone. 

Erash. Monteague. Mierin. Grundan Krul. Meleni. Ripper. Sensat. Vortash. Butler. Weaver.

Each of their faces haunted him. He tried to remember them as they were. 

From Erash’s bright eyes, whenever an explosion went off without a hitch. Or Montague and Vortash's anger as they bickered over a game of Poker. Too Bulter’s passion and crocked smile as he spoke of his wife. And all the other countless moments in between each mission with them all. 

But their last moments stayed. All their lifeless, gaunt faces.  One by one, as he covered them carefully. 

Shepard's fingers tightened into his palm, pulling him back from the past. 

He squeezed back and pushed them forward to the Normandy. 

 ***

Arrival at the dock was surprisingly uneventful. Shepard pressed the code into Normandy to enter, her free hand still tightly wounded in his. He stood in place, hesitant to join her. 

A tight frown formed at the corner of her lips and softened as she spoke. 

“Go make sure she’s okay.”

“Shepard, I just want to make sure you’re okay first.” He pleaded with her. 

She signed, untangling their hands as she stepped closer to him. 

“I will be. I saw how much that girl drank. She’s still out there. You should go.”

“I am. I just…” Garrus paused, unsure how to phrase it. He just wanted to make sure things went right. Just once. 

“Are we okay?” His voice betrayed him as it wavered at the question.

Shepard’s hand trembled as she caressed the newly healed scars. Her palm gently cupped his face. Bloodshot eyes beginning to soothe, she stared into him. He felt his heart pound, waiting for her answer. Her grasp just made him want to fall into her embrace. 

“We will be, but we need to talk. Just give me some time, please.” 

Shepard's fingertips trailed off of him as she stepped back. She engaged the door controls, leaving him with a sad smile as the airlock shut between them.