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[coeurderoche]

Contemporary Exterior Denver Large contemporary brown one-story stucco exterior home idea with a shed roof

[nvareim]

bite me, v. garza x fem! reader

tags; predator/prey, fearplay, dacryphilia, degradation, drugging, thigh riding, stalking, dubcon and toxic dynamics. MDNI w/c; 4.4k ao3 link | pinterest board a/n; never arguining with a woman with big brown eyes, whatever u say gorgeous

The streets of Las Almas are still blood-stained the day you escape.

It’s been quieter since the Shadows combed through the city, killing anything that moved. The dogs no longer bark, kids don’t play in the streets, and the armed men who roamed every alley are few and far between. It’s the perfect opening. You spend the morning preparing. 

You pack lightly, only the things you’re sure you’ll need. Clothing for layering, socks, underwear, and cash. It all fits nicely in a backpack you can easily carry. You leave both of your phones on the nightstand, the backs pried off and batteries neatly stacked atop each other. 

The better part of an hour is spent prying at the metal collar around your neck. You pry at the latch until your fingers are bloody, picking at the screw that holds it together. As a last resort, you use the point of a utility knife. You sit just inches away from the mirror, neck twisted at an uncomfortable angle as you slowly unscrew the locking mechanism. You’re stock-still, barely breathing out of fear the blade will slip. 

 The second the collar unlatches, you rip it from around your neck and throw it aside. It slides across the floor, hitting the baseboard with a heavy thud. You take deep, ragged breaths as you study your reflection. The lack of weight around your neck is foreign. With it gone, your decision is final. There’s no turning back now.

Las Almas is teeming with Mexican soldiers. They pace the Greyhound station, X12s strapped to their thighs and rifles slung across their chests. Their watchful eyes follow you as you pay for your ticket in cash with shaky hands. The old woman in the booth hardly scrutinizes your forged papers, clicking away at her keyboard as she logs information. She slides your ticket through the opening in the plexiglass, wishing you a safe trip. 

You practically fall onto a bench, sighing as you hug your bag close to your body. Rain pours down from the roof, streaming toward the storm drains. The air is thick and warm with moisture, heavy on your skin. You bounce your knee nervously as you wait for the bus to round the corner. 

When it does arrive, you’re the first to board. You snag a window seat at the very back where you can watch every passenger enter. You hold your breath with each new rider, nervously anticipating Valeria or one of her men to be the next passenger. It isn’t until the bus is pulling away from Las Almas that you feel the weight lift from your chest, though just barely.

Your journey north becomes a slow crawl. The best ticket you could afford brought you just north of Denver. The rest of your cash is rationed out and stuffed beneath your clothing.

In the beginning, the kiss of cool air against your skin is refreshing. It’s a welcome reprieve from the sweltering Mexican heat. A reminder of how far you’ve gotten. But the novelty quickly wears off once the slight chill turns unforgiving. You attempt to adapt by picking up a free coat from a local church and bartering over warmer clothes from thrift stores, but they only do so much to protect you from the bitter cold. Homeless shelters aren’t an option, the lines are longer as the dead of winter draws nearer. By the time you reach Wyoming, you’re running low on money to spend. You resort to stealing food from gas stations and sleeping in alleyways. You spend your days in local libraries, reevaluating your route north and searching for updates on Valeria. Librarians typically quirk a brow at your peculiar behavior, but leave you alone until they close down for the night. 

As the nights grow longer, they become even more difficult to get through. You curl yourself into a ball, your money stuffed into the band of your bra and a knife clutched tightly in your hand lest anyone gets any ideas. Hostels are few and far between and only reserved for nights you’d surely die if you slept outside. 

In early December, you spend a decent chunk of your food budget on a cheap motel room. It’s a shady establishment just outside of a small city, the kind of place you pay for by the hour. Snow flutters down and gathers in the parking lot, the pure white flakes quickly soiled by the gravel beneath. Multicolored Christmas lights are wrapped around the wrought iron railings in honor of the upcoming holiday. A few women smoke in the shadows of the building, seemingly huddling together for warmth. 

Inside the room, The wallpaper peels away to reveal yellow-stained drywall beneath and the heating unit rattles when you turn it on, blowing a small cloud of dust into the room. You refuse to peel away the comforter out of fear of what you’ll find, so you toss a blanket overtop instead. The lingering stench of cigarette smoke and artificial lemon is nearly caustic. 

 You turn the TV on, upping the volume until it’s loud enough to drown out the noise of the heater. The throw beneath you is scratchy and thin, but the bed itself is comfortable enough that you allow yourself to sink into it. With so many miles between you and Valeria, it’s easy to lull yourself into a sense of false security.

You shrug your jacket off to use as a makeshift pillow. It’s a far cry from Valeria’s luxurious bed back in Las Almas, but it’s the best you’ve had in weeks. The steady flow of warm air filling the room thaws the stiff joints in your limbs and loosens the long-held tension in your shoulders. It’s easy to fully settle into the makeshift pillow, eyes fluttering shut in bliss. It’s the best sleep you’ve gotten in weeks.

It’s pin-drop quiet when you wake up. The constant hum of the heating unit has ceased, though the room has long gone cool. The TV had been shut off, leaving the room completely dark. 

You blink away the last bits of sleep from your eyes, willing your vision to focus. Something primal stirs in your gut, fight or flight instincts urging you to move. The darkness comes into focus slowly, the shape of the furniture comes into focus. So does a figure sitting at the foot of the bed. 

Your blood freezes in your veins. You push yourself up from the bed, heart pounding in your ears. A firm hand wraps around your upper arm, throwing you back into the mattress. The springs squeak from the force. You kick and thrash in Valeria’s hold, desperate to land at least one hit. You refuse to go down without a fight, not after all you’ve been through. You manage to land a single scratch across her cheek. Blood bubbles up from her skin, smearing onto your fingers and her face when you push her away. 

One of her hands pins both your wrists to your sternum as she bears down on you. Her knees press into the mattress on either side of you, caging you in place. You take in a gasping breath, lungs struggling to expand under her weight. For the first time, you get a good look at Valeria and what you see terrifies you. There’s a feral glint to her eyes and not a bit of playfulness in her smile. Your heart pounds against your ribcage like a rabbit. 

“You scream and I’ll gut anyone who comes in that door,” Valeria hisses, hand tightening around your wrists as she wraps a zip tie around them. Tears spill from your waterline as composure crumbles. The edge of the tie presses into your skin uncomfortably, but Valeria doesn’t soften at your whining.

“It was a fun chase, sweetheart, but it’s over,” She fishes a small bag from her pants pocket, shaking a small white pill into her palm. Valeria holds it to your lips with one hand, the other pinching your nose shut. You go as long as you can without air, stubbornly clenching your jaw shut until your lungs burn. 

Valeria watches with interest, grinning as the seconds tick by. You barely make it a minute before you’re gasping for air. Valeria doesn’t waste a moment before she’s pushing the pill past your lips and pressing her palm over your mouth before you can spit it out. Her fingers still pinch your nose shut, her grip unyielding against the restrained fists that pound against her chest.

“Swallow, baby,” She goads as black creeps into the edges of your vision. By now, the pill is reduced to bitter white chunks on your tongue, but you make a show of swallowing to satisfy her. The reaction is almost instantaneous, her fingers prodding past your lips as you desperately gulp down oxygen. Her fingers taste like sanitizer and lotion as she inspects your gum line and beneath your tongue. You cringe away from her touch but with the bed beneath you, there’s nowhere to go. 

When she’s confident you swallowed, she gives you a quick pat on the cheek. The corner of her lips twitch up in only a ghost of a grin before she’s hauling you to your feet and bending you over her lap. You huff, balance thrown off kilter by the sudden movement and lack of oxygen. Valeria’s knee digs uncomfortably into your stomach and ribs. A hand wraps around your upper arm, holding you firmly on her lap. 

“You thought I wouldn’t hunt you down?”  She asks, free hand trailing down the curve of your spine. Her chipped and jagged nails drag across your skin, leaving raised lines in their wake. Fingers curl around the waistband on your sweatpants, gripping tight. You kick your legs, gritting out empty threats as she pulls them down. She tugs until the cleft of your ass is exposed to the stale air.

“I’m sorry,” You sob into the comforter, tears wetting the scratchy blanket. You sound like a broken record, the apologies spilling from your mouth only broken up by promises to never do it again.

“I don’t believe you,” Valeria coos, a condescending smile playing at her lips. She splays her hand against your ass cheek, lightly pressing into the soft flesh until it dimples beneath her fingertips. Her grip on your arm has tightened enough to be bruising.

The heat between Valeria’s thighs only heightens at the sight of you draped over her lap. Idly, she considers the merits of a more sadistic punishment. Purpled bite marks across your shoulders would certainly remind you who you belong to. Or maybe nice ‘V’ carved into the soft fat of your ass. Both would crush your little attitude beneath her boot. Ultimately, she decides to stow those thoughts away for now, saving them for when you’re back home with her. It’d be easy to go overboard now, with the adrenaline and anger rushing through her bloodstream. For now, she just wants to make you cry. 

The first hit comes when you least expect it. The impact sends a ripple through the soft flesh of your ass. Valeria groans lowly at the sight. Your hips jump at the sensation, skin going hot beneath Valeria’s palm. The strike has you screeching, thrashing beneath her in a futile attempt at an escape. You clench and unclench your restrained fists.

“Count.” Her brown irises are swallowed by her dilated pupils, trained in the spot where her hand met your cheek. The heat of your skin bleeds into Valeria’s cold palms, goosebumps popping up across your exposed skin. 

“What the fuck?” You squeal, humiliation and fear petering into indignation. It’s not a surprise to Valeria, she’d always known there was a bit of you that needed training. You were impatient, even selfish at times. A wily little thing she enjoyed wrestling into submission. The brattiness was endearing in her own bed, but after the past few weeks, it only stokes her anger. 

“Count,” She repeats, a little louder this time. “Count and maybe I won’t fucking chip you.” The twist of anger in your expression has her raising her hand again, coming down in a perfect arc to hit the same spot again. You shriek into the bedding, fingernails sinking into your clammy palms. Valeria’s arm tightens around you, dragging you even further into her lap. “Not gonna do it?” She brings her hand down three more times, alternating which side she hits to keep you on edge. “You think I’m lying? Tracked you down like a fucking dog, tell me why I shouldn’t treat you like one?” 

“Won’t do it again, Val,” You sob. “Please, I’m sorry!” Hot tears stream down your flushed face, mixing with the drool smeared across your chin and mouth. Your voice cracks with the force of your crying. Valeria grows impossibly wetter, slick dampening the gusset of her panties. 

“Then start counting.” Your fingers claw at the blanket as she strikes you again. There’s no screech or resistance when her palm hits you, just sniffling. The seconds drag by like hours as Valeria waits with bated breath, hungrily watching the tears spill from your eyes. 

“ One .” Valeria releases your chin and you press your cheek to the mattress. She groans at your thin voice, hoarse from all your yelling. Her palm rubs soothing circles over the spot she’d just hit, contrasting the rough treatment just seconds prior. A shudder runs up your body at the sensation, eyes screwed shut. 

“Good girl,” She murmurs, lips curling into a predatory grin. The next hit has you tensing up beneath her, stammering out a low two . There’s still some resentment buried beneath your submission. It shows in the impudent curl of your lips, the angry furrow of your brow. The quiet whimper that slips your mouth before three is delicious. It appeases Valeria’s growing appetite.  

By ten , you’ve run out of tears. The quiet groans spilling from your throat have a knot winding in Valeria’s stomach. Your ass is marred with her handprints, raised marks from the trauma. Come time, they’ll darken into bruises, the sting of red-hot flesh fading to an overwhelming ache. And every time you see them, you’ll be reminded of your mistakes. Valeria loosens her grip on you, knowing you won’t even try to run. 

By fifteen , your eyes have glossed over and your thrashing has ceased. The numbers are whispered through gritted teeth between quiet grunts, attitude fully snuffed out by Valeria’s hand. A little pain and you’re her good girl again, all sweet and pliant beneath her. Your inner thighs are dewy with the slick that leaks from you, dribbling down your cunt to your swollen clit. 

There’s no resistance as she hauls you to your feet, hands placed beneath your armpits like you’re a doll. You brace your hands on her shoulder, legs too shaky to keep you upright. Valeria tugs your panties and sweatpants up, brushing the bruised curve of your ass too firmly to be accidental. You shift a little, lurching forward to escape the pain. 

Valeria grabs you by the hips, dragging you into her lap. You let out a little yelp upon resting your ass against her thighs, the sudden weight against the raw skin overwhelming. For a moment, you hover, but Valeria presses you down firmly, ignoring the way you wriggle away. Once the pain subsides, you practically meld into her, head resting in the crook of her neck as you sniffle. Valeria brushes the hair from your face, damp with tears and cold sweat. Your limbs are loose, heavy with warmth that emanates from the pit of your stomach.

“Why’d you run?” She murmurs, dragging her splayed palms up and down your thighs. When you don’t reply, she tugs your head from the crook of her neck, hand cradling the base of your skull. Valeria studies you with her dark eyes, searching for a flicker of resistance in your lachrymose gaze. She finds nothing. “Hm? What was it?” 

“I was scared,” The words slip out before you can consider them. It’s an admission only made more pathetic by your thin voice. Something in Valeria’s gaze shifts as her lips press into a line. Her hand tightens on the back of your neck. The weeks of false composure fracture when faced with her dilated pupils, only a thin rind of warm brown surrounding them. The fear hits you like a cold wave, washing over your body as the words are spilling from your chest. 

“I-I didn’t know if it was safe for me to stay,” You stammer out, clenching your hands into fists in an attempt to ward off the tremors overtaking you. “I was worried that maybe they’d come for me next and you wouldn’t be there, Valeria, and I-” The corners of her lips tug up into a smug, satisfied grin and your words are cut short with a stifled sob. 

It’s not a lie, but not quite the truth either. Valeria can see it in the split second of hesitation before you speak. There’s fear there, but not fear of her enemies. No, she saw that terror in your wide-eyed gaze when you realized she had been the one to find you. 

“Oh, mi vida ,” Valeria coos, a hand coming up to cradle your cheek. Her thumb brushes away the few tears rolling down your face. Her other hand brushes up and down your side, dipping beneath the fabric of your shirt. “You thought you’d be safer running?” You sniffle as she squeezes at the fat of your hip. “This,” She gestures to the room around you with a sardonic chuckle. “This is worse than if you stayed put. I can’t protect you when I don’t know where you are.”

“I’m sorry.” You say for the millionth time. It’s the only response your brain can formulate. She’s right, running only left you more vulnerable to people who would use you to reach Valeria. But she doesn’t take your fear of her into consideration, even with the marks spread across your ass cheeks. 

“I believe you,” She says, “But it’ll take more than an apology to make me trust you. You understand, right?” 

You nod, eyes cast downward in shame.

“Good girl,” She tugs at your lower lip with her thumb. “Missed you s’much, you know?” She purrs, pressing two fingers past your lips. Your jaw widens to accommodate the push of her finger against your tongue. “Was so excited to see my girl. Bet you can imagine how I took the news, hm?” Drool gathers behind your teeth, dripping down your chin as Valeria ‘accidentally’ bumps your gag reflex. You lurch, but her fingers remain firmly hooked in her mouth. You don’t have the energy to resist her, any coherent thought slipping from your grasp before you can make sense of it. 

“So pretty like this,” She muses. Valeria adjusts you like a doll, one hand grabbing and moving your limbs until you're straddling her thigh. “You know who owns this cunt, don’t you?” Her other hand grips your hip, rolling it against her muscled thigh. Valeria laughs at your garbled moan as pleasure sparks in your core. “Just my stupid little pet that doesn’t know what’s good for her.” 

“M’not,” You slur, fingers curling into the collar of her shirt. She continues the slow pace, occasionally bouncing her knee to relish in your yelps. The heat in your stomach only grows. Electricity shoots up your spine when Valeria perfects the angle, pressing the seam of your pants against your clit just right. You moan around her fingers, lips and chin shiny with spit. In the weeks you spent running, pleasure had been an afterthought. You never had the time or privacy to worry about getting yourself off. The neglect left you swollen, sensitive, and all too receptive to Valeria’s touch. 

“Really?” She coos, slowly pulling her fingers from your mouth. They come to rest on your other hip, fingers dampening the fabric beneath them. “Grinding your cunt on me like a dumb mutt, aren’t you?” With a firmer grip on you, she presses your cunt even harder on her thigh, rocking you back and forth. You mindlessly follow her movements, chasing your high. 

Valeria studies the pinch of your brow and pitch of moans, watching every minute expression that crosses your face. Your thighs tighten around her own, desperately humping at her. Quiet pants escape your swollen lips, your head hangs low, and your eyes shut. The languid pace is entirely your own, she’s barely moving you along.

When your moans take a higher pitch, fingers tugging at her shirt, she knows you're close. Valeria’s hand comes to pull at your hair, tugging your head back and exposing the bare column of your throat. Her jaw clenches upon noticing your collar’s absence. She meets your wide eyes, your scleras flushed red and pupils dilated. Your pace falters, but Valeria prompts you to keep going with a bounce of her leg. 

“Please,” You whimper. “Wanna come.” The desperation in your voice is palpable. It’s pathetic enough to have Valeria pitying you. It’s hard for you to keep your grip on her shirt, your muscles seem to have a mind of their own. Your restrained hands fall to your lap, numb and warm as you continue to grind. 

“Yeah?” She taunts. “You wanna cum on my thigh?” Her fingers dance up your shirt, calluses brushing over your fluttering abdomen as she makes her way to your breasts. You part your lips when her fingers toy with your hardened nipples, plucking and twisting the sensitive buds. 

“Mhmm,” You nod, eyes fluttering shut. Your tongue is too heavy to form a proper response. By now, your head has gone cottony and light, filled with nothing but Val. It’s hard to even remember how you got into this situation or even recognize the dull ache of your bruised ass on every grind. Her body heat is suffocating, the scent of her perfume leaving you drooling. Valeria can see the distant look in your eyes, so she lets your lack of verbal response slide. She dips her head to your shoulder, pressing wet kisses along the curve of your neck.

“Please,” You manage to wail, repeating the word until your voice gives out on you. Valeria’s teeth glint in the moonlight as you come, nipping at the thin skin above your pulse point. Your wetness soaks the crotch of your panties, leaving them wet and sticky along the curve of your folds. The heat bleeds through your pants, warming Valeria’s thigh. 

When your hips stop twitching and your breath slows, you slump into Valeria. The hand beneath your shirt traverses up and down your spine as you hiccup and cry. Shame curdles in your stomach, tears burning at the corners of your eyes. Valeria presses soft kisses to your cheek, slowly making her way to your chapped lips. 

The kiss is sloppy and almost entirely one-sided. You struggle to keep up with her, clumsily tilting your head the wrong way and hardly moving your tongue. Her teeth knock against yours. When you cringe away at the sensation, she follows you, biting down on your lower lip hard enough to break skin. Hands wrap around your upper arms hard enough to bruise, pulling you closer to her. She licks along the sharp edges of your teeth, presses her tongue against yours. You squirm and whine through it all, only settling when she pulls away, a string of blood-tinged saliva connecting you. 

Satisfaction blooms in Valeria’s chest as she meets your teary eyes. You weeks of planning, the effort spent running, all of it was rendered pointless in a matter of minutes. The regret has your chest tightening, wishing you’d fought harder, bared your teeth. It’s too late, you realize as she heaves you to your feet. There’s no chance at escape with the way the room sways, legs weak beneath you. Valeria anchors you to her side just as you're about to fall, pulling you toward the door. Your mind desperately screams to push her away, but you can’t feel your arms anymore. You stumble and trip over the door frame, only held upright by Valeria’s arm around your waist. 

You can’t help but feel like a prisoner approaching the gallows when you see the idling car. Gravel crunches beneath your feet as she drags you forward, ignoring your attempts to dig your heels in. Each step is one step closer back to Las Almas, back to her mansion, to the gilded cage she’ll lock you in. Fear curdles in your stomach, but there’s nothing you can do with Valeria practically pinning you to her side. She pushes you into the car, quickly sliding in next to you and slamming the door shut. The click of the locks cements your fate. Valeria wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you close when you try to shuffle away. She barks out orders to the driver. The car shifts gears, quickly leaving the motel and meeting the open road. Valeria murmurs something about going home as your body loosens, her knuckles brushing over your arm. It’s only a matter of minutes before you’re sprawled across the seat, head resting in her lap. The promise of deep, dreamless sleep is irresistable. 

Valeria idly brushes the hair from your face, humming a quiet tune just loud enough for you to hear. For a while, she watches you fight to stay awake, eyes fluttering shut adorably each time you do. She smiles when you finally slip away, that pinched, fearful expression finally leaving your pretty face. It’s the culmination of weeks of work, countless outbursts, and more than a few deaths. You gave a good chase, she’ll admit, but she won. 

Valeria’s sure once the rohypnol’s effects wane, you’ll be back to your feral self. It won’t be easy to earn your submission, but to her, that’s half the fun. Valeria can already hear the foul threats you’ll grunt out from behind your gag, drool dripping down your chin as you pull against your leash. But that’s trouble for another day, another training session. It’ll take more than one session to fully domesticate you, but Valeria is eager for the work ahead. She’s always enjoyed playing with her food. 

[ohraicodoll]

ok but listen, feral!reader picking up ellie from the hospital with Joel...

God, they would slaughter together.

God help any motherfucker who stands in their way.

Violent Ends Joel Miller x f!Reader The Last of Us 2.6k Words/ 3rd POV Feral Reader Masterlist Summary: They find the Fireflies and one by one, the lights go out. Warning: Violence. Spoilers for TLOU Ep 9 and the end of TLOU Part 1.

The moment feels frozen in time, right before the flash grenade went off. It’d been a month since Denver. A month since finding both Ellie and Red in the snow, covered in blood. That desperation that had driven him awake and to his feet, driven him to walk through miles of icy wind and snow to find them, had all at once flooded out of him. Because they were alive and together and that’s all that had mattered.

It’d been hard dealing with all their wounds. Joel was still healing from the stab wound and had to be caught up to speed, his need to take over the role of caretaker making it hard for him to relax and rest. It didn’t help that Red was exhausted, injured, and they all needed taking care of.  Ellie had murdered the man, David. Had gone through hell and back and was changed because of it. She had such awful nightmares those first couple of weeks. Nights where she would scream herself awake and when they went to hold her, she would thrash in their arms. Too many nights of either of them holding her, rocking her gently back to sleep like she was a baby. Unbelievable damage had been done to all of them and for once, Joel was finding himself being the one to try and to tug everyone out of the darkness. He tried what he could to remind the girl of the good, show her fond memories, get her to laugh or even just be a little shit. Too many late nights talking with the woman at his side about what to do about her. Too many long silences, the absence of constant chatter noticeable. There were moments when Ellie seemed fine again and then the next she was gone, eyes dark and glazed over. PTSD, Red had murmured. It was hard for her too. It’d been a long time since killing had affected her and she wasn’t sure what to do to comfort Ellie. They continued on to Salt Lake City. Something about finally reaching their destination, the end of this big journey, had felt too much and he was anxious. Ellie was determined, no matter how much he said they didn’t have to go through it with, to reach the Fireflies. No cans of Chef Boyardee or promises to teach her guitar or gentle ribbing deterred her. Just the promise that she would follow them wherever they wanted to go after the job was done. At the back of his mind, he remembered Red telling him that when the job was done, she may go her separate ways. But she didn’t bring it up again and he wasn’t going to be the one to remind her. He didn’t want her to leave, couldn’t imagine it. He wanted to grab both of them by the hand, shove them in a car, and drive them straight back to Jackson. He wanted to see Ellie smile and joke again. He wanted to have them safe under the same roof without worrying who was coming for them. Joel wanted to take the time to explore every inch of Red without distraction, see her finally unguarded and at ease. He wanted them with him at his side, happy and taken care of. 

But they had to finish it all. The moment before the flash grenade exploded, he’d been mid chuckle. His chest had felt light at the fact Ellie was finally laughing again, both of them arguing over shitty puns, and his eyes had found Red. She’d been smiling at him and he had wondered how many times she had ever actually smiled at him. Not at Ellie, but him and how he wanted to see it more. Then they heard the sharp metallic ping of something hit the ground and his head felt like it was going to explode. The world went dark. They’d found the Fireflies but the cost was Ellie. He had never really questioned how they would get the cure from the girl. Science wasn’t his forte so he had figured they would take some samples, run some tests, and then they would be on their way. But it’d been so stupid to be that naive. Cordyceps grew on the brain. He knew that and it had never clicked that the whole journey there had been a death procession. Marlene’s face as she said she understood his pain was bullshit. She didn’t understand anything. She didn’t understand what it was like to raise a little girl only to have her die in her arms. What it was like to live in bitterness and hatred only to find another miracle child and keep her safe against the world. How many lives and bodies had followed in his and Red’s wake to make sure she was okay only to deliver her to her death. Marlene didn’t understand shit because Ellie wasn’t her kid. She was theirs. And she expected them to simply walk away and rinse their hands of her? She gave the order to escort him out, telling him his companion would be let out separately as soon as she was awake. They had to sedate her after she broke one of their arms when she woke up. Joel’s mind was racing. On a feedback loop, that moment before the grenade went off played over and over again. Ellie’s laugh. Red’s smile. That feeling in his chest. His girls. His girls. He’d had panic attacks before, had been knocked breathless with pain at the thought of harm coming to them and the fear he would fail them. But he wasn’t going to fail them this time. He wasn’t losing anyone anymore. Ice cold violence washed over him as he took care of the two soldiers in the stairwell. It was so easy to pull the trigger again and again. Bodies fell to the floor one after another as he worked his way towards where the soldier had mentioned Red was kept. He’d get her and then they’d get Ellie and leave. The world could fucking burn if it meant Ellie would live and if anyone understood that, it was her. 

He found her a floor up from where he was kept, his bullets finding Fireflies one by one. Their lights blinking out. Her bag was kept under the nurse’s station, some of her belongings spread out on the counter. They’d dug through them. Joel made sure to carefully put everything back exactly how he knew she liked it, knowing how attached she was to every single thing, and kicked open the door where she was being held. They’d tied her arms to the wall radiator with rope, blindfold over her eyes and her head lolled to the side. Rage filled him at the sight of her that way, like a wild animal caught in a trap. She’d scared them. Scared them enough they didn’t want her to recognize their faces, to be able to see the fear in their eyes. Satisfaction filled him at that fact. He made sure to gently cut through the rope with Ellie’s switchblade, rubbing the raw skin around her wrists, and was lifting the blindfold off when she jerked awake, thrashing immediately. Her nails were sharp and dug into his neck, drawing deep scratches,  before he could catch her wrists. Her wild eyes were unfocused and he shushed her, speaking gently, “It’s me, it’s just me. I got ya.” Pupils dilated and eyes blinking rapidly, it took her a bit to come to realize who was talking to her, “Joel?” “It’s me, darlin,” he whispered, releasing her wrists and cupping her cheeks, “It’s me. We have to get you up and going, we don’t have much time.” “Where-” she licked her dry lips, voice raspy, and looked around the room with a furrowed brow, “Where’s Ellie? What happened?” His teeth grit and he wondered if he should lie to her. Tell her these people weren’t the Fireflies and had taken the girl, let her unleash unholy hell onto them. But this was Red and it didn’t matter who these people were to her. She wouldn’t care because the fact remained that they had taken Ellie and weren’t giving her back. “We found the Fireflies,” Joel spit out, “They’re going to kill her. To make the cure. They have to kill her to get it.” He didn’t have to explain what he was planning to do. They had always worked well, able to silently communicate without a single word passed between them. They were going to kill Ellie. That was all he had to say. Because if anyone understood what his choice was going to be, it would be her. Joel could see it. The moment the statement sunk in, her brain landing on the same frequency as his. They were going to kill Ellie. Ellie. They were going to kill their kid. Fuck a cure, fuck these people, fuck all of humanity. He’d seen that same look in her eye when he’d found them in Denver, her face and clothes coated in blood that wasn’t hers and fingers digging into Ellie tightly as if she’d disappear into the wind if she let go. Rage, pure and decimating. She’d burn the world to the ground and salt the earth afterwards. He handed over her pack and she quickly strapped it on before taking the spare pistol he had grabbed from one of the soldiers. “How many?” she bit out and rose to her feet. “A lot.” “Okay,” was all she replied before checking her magazine clip and nodding towards the door, “You lead.” And that was that. She was his shadow, that silent communication taking over like when they were back in the wilderness. He’d turn and fire and she would be there, having his back as he reloaded and checked the corners. If his gun clicked empty before finishing a soldier, her knife would find the target. Quick and brutal and efficient. Red didn’t hesitate. Even as some of the soldiers begged, she was quick to end them, picking up their gun and continuing on. They moved with brutal proficiency through the floors, bodies and blood and bullets falling in their wake. When they needed to know what floor Ellie was being held on, they grabbed a person and she’d dug her knife into their thigh, getting the information before slitting their throat. One of them would grab a bottle and toss it, causing a distraction and giving the other an opening to mow down the Fireflies. 

Mercy was not something they considered. They had taken their kid, taken Ellie, they were going to kill her and that meant no one would be left alive. No loose ends, no one to come after them. She saw what had happened last time in Denver when they left loose ends. David’s group had happened. Blood and fire had happened. They wouldn’t make the same mistake again. When they reached the pediatric floor, it was quiet, empty. The painted childlike imagery on the walls didn’t help their anger. Pediatric floor. For children. Yet here these people were, about to kill their daughter for the good of mankind. This is where kids came to be saved, not murdered. Red’s body was humming with energy at his back and he knew that if he wanted to, he could unleash her and let her rip everyone to shreds even if it meant she’d hurt herself. She was a weapon to be used however he saw fit and it would be so easy to let her do it. But Joel wasn’t losing either of them. No, he was walking out with both of them at his side, safe so they could go back home together. The slight murmur of voices drew them closer to the operating room. The sight of his baby girl in a hospital gown on a table sent pain rushing through him. Ellie looked so small, hair undone and laid out around her and contraptions attached. None of the spitfire energy she usually had, no smirk, no grin at annoying him or frustrated frown when Red got after her. These people didn’t know who they were going to kill for their cure. Didn’t know the amazing girl the world would lose for them to gain a future. The surgeon looked up and was startled at seeing both of them there. Joel doesn’t remember exactly what he said, only that the doctor had grabbed the scalpel and then he shot at the same time Red did beside him. The doctor fell and the nurses did too, dropping to the ground in a splatter of blood. Just more bodies in their wake. They didn’t waste any time. Quickly drawing the IV out of her vein, Red grabbed tape and gently wrapped it while Joel worked to unhook Ellie from the machines. He couldn’t help but press a kiss to her hair and whispered, ���We’re here, baby girl. Let’s go home.” “I’ll cover the rear, you carry her, and we’ll go to the garage. There has to be vehicles there,” Red bit out, “We may have stragglers show up.” He nodded and pulled Ellie off the table and into his arms, leading the way out of the room and into the hallway. As predicted, there were stragglers. A few soldiers were running from the back stairwells, guns raised. He kept going, trusting Red to have his back. Joel trusted her with both their lives and knew she wouldn’t let anything happen to them. Especially not so close to the finish line. Sure enough, he could hear her open fire, the telltale sounds of screams and pained grunts echoing around them before the thuds of bodies hitting the ground. Leave no loose ends. The mantra played through his mind as they entered the garage and saw Marlene there. It played when he turned to look at Red, her eyes borrowing holes into Marlene’s with a rage he’d only seen a few times. And it played when he pulled the trigger on the gun he was holding underneath Ellie’s legs. “You’d just come after her.”

___________________________

Red didn’t protest against anything he told Ellie. He knew she wouldn’t, but to see her trust him fully to take the lead on the explanation made him reach across the center console and grab her hand. Her hands were still bright pink from scrubbing the blood off them, wiping away any evidence before Ellie would wake up. Raiders. Barely made it out. No cure to be found. No one left. Her fingers intertwined with his, gripping them back after checking on the sleeping girl curled up in a ball on the back seat. “Back to Jackson,” Red murmured, blinking up at him under her lashes. The sun reflected off her cheekbones, lighting up her hair.  “Back to Jackson,” Joel replied and gave her hand a squeeze. “You sure you want me around civilized folk?” she whispered and rubbed at a spot of blood in her jeans, hair falling into her face. The question was said jokingly but tentative. Do you want me around? You said there was no happy ending. Their past arguments swirled in his head and he cursed the man he had been, the one who had put that doubt there. “Fuck civilized folk,” Joel assured her easily, hand on the steering wheel gripping it tightly, “I need my girls with me. Who else is going to help me look after our kid.” Our kid. Because Ellie was. She was theirs. Not by genetics but they were family tied together by blood and violence and something that ran so much deeper. Red had killed for them like they all had killed for each other. Joel would kill hundreds to keep both of them safe. She smiled softly, head tilting back to lean against the headrest and blood still slightly smeared on her neck. Joel’s eyes focused on her mouth, the tilt of her lips as it curled up and the fact it was aimed at him. Just like before the flash grenade went off. He was taking his girls home. 

________________________________ Feral Reader Tag List: @alouise20 @faceache111​ @hawsx3​ @taxidriversainz @iluvbunnyhops @mrfitzdarcyslover @emlovesya  @agent007knight @spaacerabbit @namgification @wonwoosthetic

[emiliaclarce]

Denver Deck Covered

Mid-sized transitional backyard second story metal railing deck photo with a fire pit and a roof extension

[discoboogie]

Siding Denver Inspiration for a mid-sized modern black one-story mixed siding exterior home remodel with a metal roof

[zenderela]

Denver Farmhouse Exterior Example of a large farmhouse white three-story wood house exterior design with a metal roof

[scottsmiles]

Roofing Metal Denver Inspiration for a large, two-story, wood exterior house with a metal roof that is rustic brown.

[juanmillerr]

Durable Metal Roof Panels In Denver CO For Your Home

Find top-quality metal roofing materials and supplies near Denver CO at 5280 Metal Supply. Your trusted source for metal siding and standing seam metal roof suppliers. They provide the Best Metal Roof Panels In Denver CO. For more information visit 5280metals.com.

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[jamesrobert01]

Upgrade Your Home With Metal Roofing Materials In Denver CO

Find top-quality metal roofing materials and supplies near Denver CO at 5280 Metal Supply. Your trusted source for metal siding and standing seam metal roof suppliers. They provide the Best Metal Roofing Materials In Denver CO. For more information visit 5280metals.com.

https://5280metals.com/

[dumpstermaxx]

What Dumpster Size Do I Need For a House Demolition Project?

If you’re gearing up for a house demolition project, Dumpster Rentals in Denver CO is the first and most important thing you need to consider. One crucial aspect to reflect is the size of the dumpster you’ll need. Demolition generates a significant amount of debris and waste, requiring proper disposal to ensure a smooth and efficient process. Here’s a guide to help you determine the right dumpster size for your house demolition project.

Assess the Scope of Demolition:

Start by assessing the scale of your demolition project. Consider factors such as the size of the house, the materials being demolished (e.g., wood, concrete, metal), and whether you’re demolishing the entire structure or just parts of it (e.g., walls, roof). A comprehensive understanding of the scope will guide you in estimating the amount of debris to be generated.

Estimate Debris Volume:

Based on your assessment, estimate the volume of debris that will be produced during the demolition. For example, a small house demolition might generate around 10 to 20 cubic yards of debris, while a larger structure could produce 30 to 40 cubic yards or more. Consider the types of materials being demolished, as heavy materials like concrete and brick will fill up a dumpster more quickly than lighter materials like wood or drywall.

Choose the Right Dumpster Size:

Once you have an estimate of the debris volume, choose a dumpster size that can accommodate the waste without requiring frequent pickups or overloading. Common dumpster sizes for house demolition projects include:

10-Yard Dumpster: Suitable for small demolitions or partial demolitions like a single-room renovation. It can hold approximately 10 cubic yards of debris, equivalent to about three pickup truck loads.

20-Yard Dumpster: Twenty-Yard Dumpster Rentals in Denver CO areIdeal for medium-sized demolitions of average-sized homes or larger renovation projects. It can hold around 20 cubic yards of debris, roughly equivalent to six pickup truck loads.

30-Yard Dumpster: Recommended for larger demolitions or extensive renovation projects involving multiple rooms or a larger structure. It can accommodate approximately 30 cubic yards of debris, equivalent to about nine pickup truck loads.

40-Yard Dumpster: For major demolition projects or commercial buildings, this size is suitable for handling large volumes of debris. It can hold around 40 cubic yards of debris, roughly equivalent to twelve pickup truck loads.

Consider Space and Placement:

Before ordering the Best Dumpster Rentals in Denver CO, consider the space available for placement. Ensure there is sufficient room for the dumpster delivery truck to maneuver and place the dumpster conveniently near the demolition site. Plan for any necessary permits or permissions required for dumpster placement on public property.

Coordinate Pickup and Disposal:

Coordinate with the dumpster rental company to schedule pickup and disposal of the debris. Discuss any specific requirements or restrictions regarding the types of materials that can be disposed of in the dumpster, such as hazardous materials or electronics.

[exactlyluckykitten]

Become an Expert on Pueblo Roofers by Watching These 5 Videos

Let's speak about something that might not seem all that attractive at first-- roofs. Particularly, let's chat about Alma Roofers Colorado and a little company called Denver Roofers that's got you covered, literally.

So, picture this: it's a sunny, crisp early morning in Denver. You're drinking on your coffee, maybe taking in the mountain views, when you observe something ... odd. A shingle hanging loose, or worse, a leakage dripping into your kitchen area. Oh boy. It's time to contact the pros. Enter Denver Roofers, your regional knights in shining armor ( fine, perhaps not knights, however certainly life-savers).

Now, roofs in Colorado deal with some quite distinct obstacles. We're discussing everything from blistering sun to heavy snowfalls. You understand that sensation when you go out of a shop in winter and get smacked in the face with a gust of icy wind? Your roof feels that too. And it's not simply the weather. Oh no, my friend, we've got hailstorms that can make a grown man weep. Think of golf balls drizzling down from the sky. Yeah, roofs here require to be tough.

Denver Roofers get this. They know that your roof isn't simply a bunch of shingles slapped together. It's your home's first line of defense. Whether you need a minor repair work or a entire new roof, these folks have actually got your back. They deal with whatever-- dripping roofs, missing out on shingles, storm damage, you name it.

Let me tell you a story. My cousin Bob, who lives in Aurora, had this old roof that looked like it had actually made it through the Battle of Gettysburg. Every time there was a storm, he 'd be up there with a pail, cursing under his breath. Finally, he called Denver Roofers. They came out, examined the circumstance, and informed Bob that his roof was generally held together by hopes and dreams. Within a week, he had a brand-new roof. No more containers, say goodbye to cursing (well, not about the roof, anyhow).

However it's not practically emergencies. Preventative maintenance is crucial. I keep in mind reading someplace-- probably among those homeowner ideas sites-- that frequently examining your roof can extend its life by years. Think about it like going to the dental professional. You would not avoid your check-ups, right? (I mean, I do, however I'm informed it's a bad idea.) Denver Roofers can come out and give your roof a checkup, catching little issues before they become huge headaches.

Colorado's weather condition doesn't simply demand durability; it calls for the best materials, too. Asphalt shingles are popular, sure, however they've got choices like metal roofs that can endure hail better. Metal roofs can be noisy in the rain, however. Ever heard rain on a tin roof? It's like a symphony of marbles. However hey, some folks love that noise. It's everything about what works for you.

Here's a amusing thing. When I was a kid, I used to think roofing was all about simply slapping on some shingles and calling it a day. Turns out, there's this entire science behind it. Ventilation, insulation, slope. Did you know that the angle of your roof can affect how well snow slides off it? I didn't. Denver Roofers did, however. They'll geek out about roof slopes and R-values (that's insulation talk) so you do not need to.

Speaking of snow, let's not forget those attractive but potentially problematic ice dams. They appear like something out of a vacation card, however they can damage your roof. Picture this: snow melts, water diminishes to the edge of the roof, refreezes, and bam! Ice dam. Water backs up and can seep into your home. Denver Roofers can install things like ice and water shields to keep that from occurring. It's like providing your roof a winter coat.

Now, you might be believing, "This all noises expensive." And yeah, quality roofing isn't low-cost, but neither is changing your living room ceiling after it collapses from water damage. (Trust me, that's not a fun surprise.) Denver Roofers are upfront about costs. Nobody likes those nasty surprises when you get the bill. Plus, they deal with insurer if your roof's been struck by one of our legendary hailstorms. It's a bit of a dance, handling insurance coverage, but these guys know the actions.

Let's circle back to that sunshine we get so much of here. Ever considered going green with your roof? Photovoltaic panel are becoming a big thing. Denver Roofers can set you up with a roof that's prepared to support photovoltaic panels. Think of decreasing your energy bills and being eco-friendly at the same time. Win-win!

I've rambled on a fair bit, haven't I? Let's cover this up. Whether you're handling a roofing emergency, thinking of a replacement, or simply require some upkeep, Denver Roofers are the folks to call. They're experienced, friendly, and they get the job done right. So next time you're staring at a leak or stressing over that next huge storm, keep in mind there's a team in Denver ready to assist.

Alright, I'm off to inspect my own roof now ... or maybe I'll simply have another cup of coffee and call the specialists. Stay safe and keep that roof over your head in top shape!

[bluefrogroofing-blog]

Premium Metal Roofing Solutions: Berthoud, Denver, CO & Cheyenne, WY

Explore top-notch metal roofing services in Berthoud, Denver, CO, and Cheyenne, WY with BlueFrog Roofing. Our expert team ensures durable, stylish roofs that withstand elements. Trust us for reliable installations, repairs, and maintenance. Call now!

https://bluefrogroofing.com/services/metal-roofing/

[denverhandymanserivces]

Pressure Washing Company in Denver - Denver Handyman Serivces Llc

What is pressure washing used for?

Pressure washing is a versatile cleaning method that uses a high-pressure stream of water to remove dirt, grime, mold, mildew, and other contaminants from various surfaces. It is widely used for both residential and commercial applications due to its effectiveness and efficiency. Here are common uses for pressure washing:

Exterior Cleaning: Pressure washing is commonly used to clean the exterior of buildings, including houses, apartments, and commercial structures. It can remove accumulated dirt, dust, and stains from siding, brick, stucco, and other exterior surfaces.

Driveways and Walkways: Pressure washing is effective in cleaning concrete driveways, sidewalks, and pathways, removing oil stains, algae, mold, and other substances that can accumulate over time.

Decks and Patios: Wooden decks and concrete or stone patios can benefit from pressure washing to remove dirt, moss, mildew, and stains. It helps maintain the appearance of outdoor living spaces.

Fences: Pressure washing is useful for cleaning and revitalizing various types of fences, including wood, vinyl, and metal. It removes dirt, mildew, and other contaminants, restoring the fence's appearance.

Vehicles: Pressure washers are often used to clean cars, trucks, boats, and other vehicles. The adjustable pressure settings allow for gentle cleaning of delicate surfaces while providing enough power to remove stubborn dirt and grime.

Roofs: While care must be taken not to damage roofing materials, pressure washing can be used to clean moss, algae, and debris from roofs. It's important to use the appropriate pressure and technique to avoid causing harm to the roof.

Gutters: Pressure washing can help clean out gutters and downspouts, removing leaves, dirt, and other debris that can lead to clogs and drainage issues.

Outdoor Furniture: Patio furniture, including tables and chairs, can be effectively cleaned using pressure washing to remove accumulated dirt and stains.

Concrete and Masonry Surfaces: Pressure washing is commonly used for cleaning concrete driveways, sidewalks, and masonry surfaces, such as retaining walls and garden borders.

It's important to use the right pressure washer settings and appropriate nozzles for each task to avoid damage to surfaces. Additionally, safety precautions, such as wearing protective gear, should be followed when using pressure washers.

[newstfionline]

Tuesday, January 2, 2024

The world is on the move (WSJ) Migration from the world’s poorer countries to more affluent ones is at the highest level in decades. Millions of people are on the move, taking routes both legal and illegal to secure work or refuge. The surge in arrivals is stoking social tensions, helping to topple governments and fostering the rise of right-wing nationalist groups from France to the Netherlands. In the U.S., border security is expected to be a focal point in Washington this year. But an agreement in the Senate has proven elusive so far, and mayors of New York, Chicago and Denver say the flow of migrants arriving from the southern border has already pushed their cities to the breaking point.

Forget the 4-day week. Mexican workers are fighting the 6-day week. (Washington Post) On a recent Friday, like nearly every day, Maricela de la Cruz woke up at 5 a.m. She caught two buses to get from her parents’ modest apartment on the outskirts of Cancún to the J.W. Marriott Resort & Spa. As tourists sunned on the white-sand beach outside, she spent eight hours scrubbing bathrooms and making beds. The 28-year-old housekeeper works six days every week. So do millions of other working-class people in Mexico—hotel staff, auto assemblers, waiters. But now, workers in the United States’ No. 1 trading partner are rebelling. The Mexican Congress is debating a constitutional amendment to guarantee employees two days off per week, a proposal pushed by unions. Over eight decades after President Franklin D. Roosevelt ushered in the five-day workweek in the United States, it finally might be coming to Mexico. The Mexican workers’ fight for the 40-hour week comes amid a growing global debate over work schedules. Yet there is a vast divide in how that conversation is playing out. While North Americans and Europeans experiment with a four-day week, many employees in developing countries toil six days—or more. (In India, a tech billionaire recently caused an uproar by suggesting a 70-hour week.)

Cats Filled the Prison. Then the Inmates Fell in Love. (NYT) Some say they were first brought in to take out the rats. Others contend they wandered in on their own. What everyone can agree on—including those who have lived or worked at Chile’s largest prison the longest—is that the cats were here first. For decades, they have walked along the prison’s high walls, sunbathed on the metal roof and skittered between cells crowded with 10 men each. To prison officials, they were a peculiarity of sorts, and mostly ignored. The cats kept multiplying into the hundreds. Then prison officials realized something else: The feline residents were not only good for the rat problem. They were also good for the inmates. “They’re our companions,” said Carlos Nuñez, a balding prisoner showing off a 2-year-old tabby he named Feita, or Ugly, from behind prison bars. While caring for multiple cats during his 14-year sentence for home burglary, he said he discovered their special essence, compared with, say, a cellmate or even a dog. “A cat makes you worry about it, feed it, take care of it, give it special attention,” he said. “When we were outside and free, we never did this. We discovered it in here.”

Brexit has completely failed for UK, say clear majority of Britons (Guardian) A clear majority of the British public now believes Brexit has been bad for the UK economy, has driven up prices in shops, and has hampered government attempts to control immigration, according to a poll by Opinium to mark the third anniversary of the UK leaving the EU single market and customs union. The survey of more than 2,000 UK voters also finds strikingly low numbers of people who believe that Brexit has benefited them or the country. Just one in 10 believe leaving the EU has helped their personal financial situation, against 35% who say it has been bad for their finances, while just 9% say it has been good for the NHS, against 47% who say it has had a negative effect. The poll suggests that seven and a half years on from the referendum the British public now regards Brexit as a failure. Just 22% of voters believe it has been good for the UK in general.

Denmark’s Queen Margrethe II to step down from throne on Jan. 14 (AP) Denmark’s Queen Margrethe II announced Sunday that she plans to abdicate after 52 years and hand over the throne to her son, Crown Prince Frederik. The queen, who is Europe’s longest-reigning living monarch, announced during her New Year’s speech that she would step down on Jan. 14th, which is the anniversary of her own accession to the throne at age 31 following the death of her father, King Frederik IX. Margrethe, 83, said the back surgery she underwent in early 2023 led to “thoughts about the future” and when to pass on the responsibilities of the crown to her son. “I have decided that now is the right time,” she said in her speech.

Zelenskiy speaks of war, Putin makes passing reference in contrasting New Year speeches (Reuters) Ukraine President Volodymyr Zelenskiy honoured his people’s resilience in times of bloodshed in a long and lyrical New Year speech, while Russian leader Vladimir Putin stressed his country’s unity in a short and stern message that made only passing reference to the war. The speeches—traditional Dec. 31 messages in both Russia and Ukraine—came as both countries marked the end of the year with increased air attacks on each other’s territories. But neither side can point to any major frontline achievements in 2023.

Xi says China will ‘surely be reunified’ with self-ruled Taiwan in New Year’s address (AP) Chinese President Xi Jinping said China would “surely be reunified” with Taiwan during his televised New Year’s address, renewing Beijing’s threats to take over the self-ruled island, which it considers its own. Taiwan split from China amid civil war in 1949, but Beijing continues to regard the island of 23 million with its high-tech economy as Chinese territory and has been ramping up its threat to achieve that by military force if necessary. China has described Taiwan’s Jan. 13 presidential and parliamentary elections as a choice between war and peace. Beijing considers the presidential front-runner, William Lai, who currently serves as vice president from the ruling Democratic People’s Party, a “separatist” and has accused him and Taiwan’s President Tsai Ing-wen of trying to provoke a Chinese attack on the island.

Powerful earthquakes leave at least 48 dead, destroy buildings along Japan’s western coast (AP) A series of powerful earthquakes that hit western Japan have left at least 48 people dead and damaged thousands of buildings, vehicles and boats. Officials warned that more quakes could lie ahead. Aftershocks continued to shake Ishikawa prefecture and nearby areas a day after a magnitude 7.6 temblor slammed the area on Monday afternoon. Forty-eight people were confirmed dead in Ishikawa, officials said. Sixteen others were seriously injured, while damage to homes was so great that it could not immediately be assessed, they said. Japanese media reports said tens of thousands of homes were destroyed.

Iran showcases its reach with militia attacks across Middle East (Washington Post) The Gaza war has given Iran the opportunity to showcase the capacity of its newly restructured network of allied militias, demonstrating Tehran’s strategic reach while allowing it to keep a distance from the fight, according to members of the groups and military analysts. On any given day since the Oct. 7 Hamas assault on Israel, one or other of these militias has carried out an attack somewhere in the Middle East—and on some days several in different places. The Houthis in Yemen are targeting ships in the Red Sea; Kataib Hezbollah and other Iraqi groups are hitting U.S. bases in Iraq and Syria; and Lebanon’s Hezbollah is engaged in daily exchanges of fire with Israeli forces across the Israel-Lebanon border. The attacks can seem random, but they are the fruit of a carefully calibrated strategy forged in the wake of the 2020 killing of Qasem Soleimani, leader of Iran’s elite Quds Force, to bring cohesion to the loosely formed alliance of militias—designated by Tehran as the “axis of resistance.”

Israel’s high court strikes down Netanyahu’s judicial overhaul law (Washington Post) Israel’s high court on Monday struck down Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s polarizing law that sought to limit the court’s power over government decisions and sparked mass anti-government protests and international condemnation. Netanyahu’s plans to overhaul the judiciary upended Israel in the months leading to the Israel-Gaza war—and now threaten to cause a constitutional and leadership crisis just three months after the hotly divided country united behind the war effort. Netanyahu’s Likud party slammed the decision as “in opposition to the nation’s desire for unity, especially in a time of war.” Monday’s ruling concerned an amendment to Israel’s “Basic Law,” which serves in place of a constitution, that was pushed through and passed by Netanyahu’s far-right government in July. The altered law removed the right of the Israeli Supreme Court to block decisions made by government ministers that the judges deem “unreasonable.” In striking down the law 8 to 7 on Monday, the top court’s ruling calls for the legislation to be removed. If Netanyahu’s government refuses to honor the ruling, the wartime country could face a constitutional crisis.

Half of Gazans Are at Risk of Starving, U.N. Warns (NYT) Walaa Zaiter’s four children have been hungry for weeks, but she can barely find them food. They ask for sandwiches, fruit juice and homemade Palestinian dishes like she used to cook before the war began. In a fleeting moment of internet access, she said, she once caught the children huddled around her phone to watch a YouTube video of someone eating French fries. The most they can hope for these days, she said in a recent telephone interview, is a can of peas, some cheese and an energy bar distributed as a family’s rations by the United Nations once a week in Rafah, a city in southern Gaza where they fled to in early December to escape Israeli bombardment farther north. It is not nearly enough to feed her family of seven. Israel’s war in Gaza has created a humanitarian catastrophe, with half of the population of about 2.2 million at risk of starvation and 90 percent saying that they regularly go without food for a whole day, the United Nations said in a recent report. Arif Husain, chief economist at the World Food Program, said the humanitarian disaster in Gaza was among the worst he had ever seen. The territory appears to meet at least the first criteria of a famine, with 20 percent of the population facing an extreme lack of food, he said.

A Toast to a Year and a Word (NYT) Toasting is a tradition that dates back to ancient Greece. The act of raising a glass to wish someone good fortune “came around even before the word,” Paul Dickson, the author of a book on toasts, said. For example, Ulysses drank to Achilles’ health in Homer’s “Odyssey,” though the word itself was not used in the poem. The word came to us through the Middle English “tosten” in the 12th century. The noun, meaning bread that had been browned with heat, and the verb, “to brown bread,” may have derived from the Old French toster, “to roast or grill,” or the Latin torrere, “to burn.” Over the years, toast has enjoyed menu makeovers, with results like French toast or avocado toast. But in the Middle Ages, toast was used to flavor a drink. Sam Sifton, the founding editor of New York Times Cooking, said that the practice of “toasting” someone stemmed from the days when people would put “pieces of spiced toast into your mead or your wine.” Toasting a person, he said, is like “putting their name in your glass,” as if they add spice or sweetness. So raise a glass or two. Just beware of getting “toasted.” (That’s slang for drunk.)

[mollyjoline]

Denver Wood An illustration of a large, modern, three-story wood house with a shed roof and a metal roof