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thewalkingwillowtree · 2 months ago

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Courting Ayelýn

Series Listing Found Here

Aonung x Original Na'vi Female Character

Summery: Pressured by his parents to enter a formal courtship, Aonung rebels in his own way and what starts as a ruse, turns into something real.

Note before reading: This is a spin off of my Safe Haven Series.

Reading Safe Haven is not necessary to follow this story.

Some characters have been aged up. Aonung in particular is 25.

Ayelýn is my own creation. *Pronounced Aye-Lin

Warning!! This part contains smut.

Part 4 - When They Fucked

When Aonung had asked for the two of them to do something, Ayelýn thought perhaps they’d still end up somewhere public- for show.

Maybe they’d take a walk along the beach, or even attend a storytelling event, but no.

What she hadn’t intended from his request of it being just the two of them was that it truly was… just the two of them.

Their evening started out with a late night swim. Aonung led her to one of his favourite spots- a brightly illuminated, underwater hidden gem, filled with sea fauna and flora that was too beautiful for words.

And so captivated by her surroundings, Lýn had missed the way Aonung drank her in- as though seeing her for the very first time.

Later on, they found themselves on his private tiny island, seated inside of the little makeshift structure he had crafted for himself.

The sort of lean-to design was just tall enough that Aonung didn’t hit his head when standing and wide enough that at least four Na’vi could fit comfortably.

Mismatched, frayed mats laid scattered on the sand, acting as a sort of flooring that also provided comfort, and there was even a well-worn hammock set up in a way that the amazing scenery was still within view.

Near the threshold, they sat face to face as Aonung revealed dish after dish from a sack that had already been there waiting for them. Their position also allowed them the gorgeous view of the glittering sky and sea- stars all out in their glory as rhythmic crashing waves sang.

In quick succession, laid out between them was an impressive spread that had Lýn salivating.

“My Eywa,” she whispered through an excited smile, tucking flyaways behind her ears. “It all looks so good! Is- is this hexapede?”

“Mhm,” Aonung hummed, loving her reactions.

“Where did all of this come from?”

“We got a huge delivery of goods this morning from the Omaticaya. I’ve already made sure Keftxo gets their fair share,” he said, trying not to wince guiltily. “I didn’t know any wasn’t given to Keftxo the last two times… but things should be brought down within the next few days since they’re still sorting through everything we got.”

The trading system between the clans of Pandora was well developed by now. With the use of human technology, communication was up and running, thus, enabling an established procedure.

“Aonung,” Lýn voiced softly. She had no words. He’d gone above and beyond for her little village time and time again.

He tutted at her affectionately, understanding the wave of gratitude she was trying to express.

“We got fresh meat this time around. I made us some hexepade stew and roasted hexape-”

“Wait… you cooked? You? I thought you hate cooking?”

He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck and mumbled something incoherent under his breath and without responding, he continued pointing out the options- one after the other.

“- oh and Lo’ak gave us a couple of these things from his private stash- something called sari cakes, I think? They’re courtesy Neteyam’s mother-in-law… and finally-” He emptied a pouch that held, “Yovo fruit.”

Ayelýn gasped. “Yovo fruit? You’re kidding! I’ve always wanted to try these.”

“I know.” Aonung had gotten them specially well preserved for the journey- just for her.

He chose the best looking one of the batch and held it out to her, pleased when she leaned in to take a bite of the fruit between his fingers.

Tossing the remaining piece in his mouth, he watched as her face morphed into one of ecstasy, eyes rolling in bliss, lips licked with a moan of appreciation. Her reaction had the front of his tweng straining within seconds.

“That’s sooo good,” she sighed.

“Fuck, Lýn.” He cracked his neck, willing his body to calm down. “Can you try not to kill me so early tonight?” he half begged, half teased.

It took her a split second to catch his meaning, but when she spotted his obvious situation- one he made no effort to hide, she managed to mumble an apology through a mortified blush- though a small part of her was pleased she had that much of an effect on him.

Conversation, fun and flowing after that, they talked about everything and nothing as they indulged in their Omaticaya delicacies- sharing and feeding each other bites of food with exclamations of “you have to try this!” and “oh Eywa, this one is amazing!”

And when their bellies were full and satisfied, their attention fell on the view before them.

A light breeze ruffled their hair while they sat in comfortable silence- both minds preoccupied.

Fiddling with his bottom lip, Aonung tossed fleeting glances Lýn’s way- a question on the tip of his tongue. And unbeknownst to him, Lýn was also sneaking her own peeks- finding him far more captivating than their scenery.

Momentarily distracted by a leather waterskin almost sort of hidden behind him, she couldn’t help ask, “What’s in that? Did we forget to try something?”

“Hm?” He turned to see, then, “Oh, no. That’s not for you to try. Lo'ak said it’s lethal. Some insane concoction called Spir’ytüs.”

Ayelýn looked affronted. “What do you mean not for me to try? I want to try it.”

“Sorry, gorgeous but no.”

“All I’m asking is for a sip!”

“Lýn, you can barely handle the lightly fermented ones we make here.”

“Says who?!”

“Uh- says me? Says that one time you were stupid enough to have a competition with Rotxo and I had to carry you back to your parents inebriated and had to explain to them that it was in no way my fault, yet your father glared at me as if I had fed you every sip myself!”

“That was one time! You know I usually hold my spirits well!”

“Yeeah. I’m not taking any chances. Especially with something I haven’t tried yet.”

Determination blazing through her gaze and boldness taking control, Lýn crossed over to his side, careful of the spread that separated them, and in the blink of an eye, she was planting herself in his lap, knees on either side of hips.

At her shocking actions, Aonung worked his jaw, eyes flickering to her lips before returning to her eyes. “You’re playing a very dangerous game, Ayelýn.”

“Am I?” Her palms danced down his skin, starting from his shoulders, feathering down his chest to land flat against the hard panes of his stomach. They rounded his sides with clear intent on the pouch behind him. “Not if I win,” she whispered in his ear.

Like lightning, he caught her wrists and clutched them in one hand. Her feeble protests died rather quickly when he lifted his knees- making her land exactly where he wanted. The jaw dropping shock on her face at the intimate feeling of him pressed up against her warm heat was worth the painful ache it came with.

Lýn could do nothing but watch as he used his free hand to pop off the top of the waterskin and take a deep swig of its contents.

He tried not to wince at the burn but failed- it was sickly sweet and definitely fucking potent.

“I win,” he rasped, triumphant grin stretching wide and taunting as he tightened his hold on her wrists- not that he needed to, since the minx in his lap put up no fight.

Never one to back down, Ayelýn arched her brow as if saying really? And then she surprised him yet again by leaning in and kissing him- tongue darting out to taste the essence of the sweet spirits lingering on his lips and tongue.

She’d stolen her taste.

It happened so fast, Aonung barely had time to register, because she was then leaning back with a satisfied smirk and smacking her lips with a pleased hum.

“No… I think I, win.”

But Aonung was quick to retaliate. Greedy and demanding, he devoured her with the type of kiss that had her dizzy within mere seconds.

Wrists released, her hands framed his face as their lips and tongues danced- moving to a tune that worked in perfect symphony.

“Stay,” he begged against her lips- finally asking that question he knew he shouldn’t be asking.

He chased after her when she tried to break their connection, stealing one last firm kiss before she managed to push him backwards.

“Aonung, this is a bad idea.”

Logically, he knew she was right.

It was a terrible idea.

Eyes roaming over her, he licked his lips. At some point he had released the tie that kept her wild hair confined. She was stunning- swollen lips, flushed cheeks and fully blown pupils.

He wanted to kiss her again.

So he did.

One hand tangled her hair, he angled her head and parted her lips with his own. And though he could still feel her lingering inner fight, she kissed him back just as feverishly.

Lýn rolled her hips- a single, deep roll against the thick ridge of him that gave her the most delicious friction despite the layers separating them- one that gained her a staggering groan from Aonung.

“Do you have to get back tonight?”

“Anou-”

He didn’t want to face her rejection just yet, so he silenced her with another kiss- a kiss that made her tail and toes curl… a kiss that hurt her heart just a little bit.

The incessant throbbing between her thighs had become overly unbearable and, aching for relief, Lýn gave in, encouraging his touch as his hands explored her skin.

They skimmed up her thighs and squeezed her ass before traveling up her sides- calloused thumbs sweeping the underside of her breasts.

A loud swear escaped him and his hips bucked when she rolled again- core rubbing deliberate and way too much for him to handle. He clamped a firm hand on her waist to prevent her from doing it again.

Unhappy about this, she smacked the hand away and he smacked her backside in response, tugging on her tail in warning for good measure.

“Ayelýn, I’m going to come within seconds if you keep that up.”

“That sounds like a you problem.” She yelped at the tug of her hair and the stinging bite he left on her neck.

“So mouthy,” he mused.

“And you’re annoying,” she muttered with a nip of her own against his jaw.

But then, reality creeping in, alarming and loud in her head, Lýn’s mouth moved faster than her mind, spewing, “I’m not a play-thing.”

Aonung reared back to see her face. A flash of hurt crossed his features and despite how fast he’d schooled his expression, she still caught it. “Of course you're not… Where did that even come from?”

“I- I’m just saying… I don’t know what any of this is or what we’re doing, but I needed you to know that.”

“Lýn. You're not,” he emphasized.

She nodded, glad to have at least cleared that with him.

“And anyway… It’s- uh… been a while for me,” he admitted in a soft tone. “I don’t- I’m not that Aonung anymore. I’d hope you think so too.”

She did think so. Aonung was so much more different than she’d realized. Different from the rumors… different from when they’d first met.

“When you say a while…”

“Mmm, counting? Over a year…” He scratched his jaw. “Almost two by now since we’ve been together- well not together together-” he rambled. “You know what I mean.”

“Oh.” Ayelýn turned the information around in her mind as she bit on the tip of her thumb.

He hadn’t been with a woman in that long? How? Why?

“Okay,” she finally said. “And to be clear, you want to-” she gestured between the two of them, “-with me?”

“Yes,” he answered firmly, fingers toying with the string that kept her top in place. “It’s no pressure though. We’re just having fun, right?”

“Fun.”

“Mhmm.” He ducked his head to nose at that spot where her neck and jaw connected. With one tug of the string, the beaded thing covering her breasts fell into her lap.

A shudder made her jerk in his arms and Lýn blamed it on a gust of wind. This time of year and this late out, the breeze could get nippy… It definitely wasn’t the way Aonung was mouthing at her flesh, or the way his thumbs brushed over her hardened nipples.

Definitely not…

Fuck.

“Okay,” she agreed breathlessly, head lulling backwards as his path trailed from her collarbones, to the tops of her chest that rose and fell in anticipation. “But just this one time and we don’t talk about it afterwards. Agreed?”

Aonung paused at her words.

He didn’t want that.

And instead of responding, he swallowed her nipple into his mouth.

Sex with Aonung was not at all what Ayelýn imagined… and yes guilty- she had imagined this moment…. Many times actually.

In the early days of their pretend courtship, a heartbroken woman named Zers’i had cornered Lýn, giving her a piece of her mind- accusing her of stealing the man she hoped she’d settle down with.

By the end of the rant, Zers’i had turned from bitter and angry into a sobbing mess. And in the midst of Lýn, comforting the weeping woman on her shoulder, it led to an interesting revelation.

“You’re going to have to do all the work. I- I guess I don’t feel so bad now,” the blubbering soul had stammered through tears.

At the time, Ayelýn didn’t know what that meant, but with two other confrontations that bore similar remarks, she gathered that Aonung could be somewhat of a selfish lover.

Yet here, in this moment as the stars watched over them, Aonung had ripped sounds from her lips she didn’t even know she could make.

The man was ruthless in his pursuit to learn what she liked- mapping her body with his hands, lips, tongue… tail.

He was far from selfish as he stayed buried between her thighs for Eywa knows how long, lapping and sucking while his fingers curled deep within her heat, causing delicious pleasure to consume her in wave after wave.

Then, while she was mid recovery from another glorious orgasm, he was rearing onto his knees, lifting her calf over his shoulder and thrusting into her in one fluid stroke- right the the hilt.

That first time, the burning stretch and his pace was brutal.

Skin slapping on skin he took her hard and fast, practically contouring her body to his will as profanity fell from his lips like a prayer. He really didn’t last long at all and he even apologized for it when he dropped down next to her to catch his breath.

Post orgasmic haze, his lips were everywhere, peppering her with sweet, playful kisses as he whispered things that made her blush.

“Not so mouthy now, are you?”

“You make the prettiest sounds when you come.”

“Will you let me taste you again?”

“...You’re beautiful.”

Eager to have her own way with him, she had slithered between his thighs, mouth watering at the sight of him coated in her arousal.

Lýn was pretty sure dicks weren’t supposed to look pretty. She guessed he must have been an exception.

He was quite impressive even though he was half hard. She wouldn’t tell him that though, she was sure it would only go to his head, especially judging by the stupid smirk he’d given her as she took him in.

Lýn enjoyed teasing him. Within seconds of her little playful strokes and licks, he was fully erect and leaking all over her hand. His stomach hollowed out and his moans and grunts were loud as her head bobbed- mouth taking him deeper and deeper down her throat each time she came up for air.

And when the cusp of his impending release came near, he was sitting up, impatiently pulling her up his body by the hair and kissing her with such passion, she was on the verge of combusting.

Drenched between her thighs from her own arousal and his release from earlier, he slipped in with ease, sliding her down his length until she took him all- back bowing because at this angle, the man was impossibly deep.

Eyes locked in unspoken intensity, they released quiet breathy sighs as they relished in the feeling of him seated inside her- deep and full and tight and warm.

Limbs folded around each other and lips meeting halfway, they rocked slowly, fucking in a way that didn’t feel like fucking at all.

Aonung planted kisses on her temple and her cheek and jaw, hands smoothing over every inch of skin he could find while Lýn clung to him- tiny murmurs and mewls escaping her.

They moved in tandem, deliberate rolls and grinds that weren’t rushed or hurried as they climbed higher and higher- the build up so profound and fervent, a few tears sprang to Lýn’s eyes.

“Fuck, I’m going to come soon.” He licked away the lone teardrop that escaped her, and she tasted the salt on his tongue when he parted her lips with it. “Come with me, gorgeous. Please.”

She nodded and led one of his hands between them, showing him what she wanted- clit needing attention for her to get there.

It was tempting to increase their rhythm, to want rock harder or move faster, but they both kept their pace, gradually getting to that peak that swelled and blossomed until they neared that break.

Rhythm eventually growing erratic, then faltering, Aonung hid his face- nose pressed into Lýn’s cheek as his fingers tightened their hold- in her hair at her nape, the others circling her clit.

Ayelýn came with a soft cry and a full body spasm, trembling as she felt his warmth spread inside her. She moaned into Aonung’s mouth- his own groans accompanying hers.

Pleasure thrumming throughout her body, he continued to grind into her- drawing little aftershocks and whimpers from her.

Both limbless and exhausted, they collapsed against the mats beneath them.

Aonung slipped out from between her legs and Lýn made a face at the gush of mess slowly escaping her. Though, she was too worn out to care to do anything about it. Eywa, there was so much of it.

Arm draped around her waist, Aonung kissed her forehead and whispered something she didn’t make out. She squirmed closer, and made a home in his arms, content to use a bicep as a pillow and to squish her face into the space below his shoulder.

And in the quiet of their shelter, the sounds of rolling waves lulled them into calm.

Aonung did not find rest easily that night. While Lýn slept, his thoughts plagued him. Knuckles running down her spine, he held her close…

Something he’d never done with anyone before.

Aongung didn’t do cuddling.

He didn’t do soft and sweet fucking.

And he definitely didn’t do night overs.

He sighed and squeezed his eyes shut, hoping his thoughts would grow tired.

Ayelýn confused him.

He knew he liked her. He hadn’t realized just how deep, however. The way in which this woman had wormed her way into his constant thoughts, terrified him.

A small dark part of him- a lingering remnant of the old Aonung, thought that fucking her would get her out of his system.

They’d fucked alright, yet here he was, holding her because he still couldn’t get enough. She was no longer only in his thoughts.

She had seeped into his veins…

Into his heart.

Giving up on his inner struggle, he decided to literally give up. He was done fighting this.

Done fighting them.

Cupping her neck he held her to him as quiet prayers to Eywa left his lips, whispers buried into Ayelýn’s hair.

When morning broke, neither of them spoke about it.

And in the following hours that turned into days that turned to weeks, neither acknowledged the evident shift between them.

Eywa.

Please give me calm, give me strength.

Ayelýn blew out another shaky breath. She was a nervous wreck this morning.

Tail twitching behind her, she made yet another wrong turn along a bouncing pathway… Maybe it was deliberate? Maybe it was her body’s way of protecting her from what was to come.

Eywa. She really didn’t want to do this.

Throughout her journey, Lýn kept a look out for a familiar mountain of a man who she couldn’t seem to find anywhere. Of all days, this was not a day for him to be missing!

Despite her obvious prolonging, she couldn’t stall any further or else she’d be late, and after final, futile efforts, she at least felt some ounce of relief when she spotted Aonung’s sister.

“Tsireya!” she called out.

“Ayelýn!” the woman chirped in pleasant surprise, walking over to meet her halfway. “Are you looking for my brother?”

“Well, yes and no. I was hoping to catch him for a moment.”

“He’s out on a hunt. Won’t be back till late.”

“Oh.” That was disappointing to hear.

“What’s wrong?”

Lýn licked her lips and tried not to grimace. “My presence has been requested. Your mother summoned me,” she revealed.

Tsireya appeared unaffected by the news, though she did pick up on Lýn’s nervousness. “I had a feeling this would happen eventually. I told my brother as much… He’s so stubborn,” she muttered with a fond shake of her head.

“Why does she want to see me then? I was just told to come here.”

“Sa'nok has been asking Aonung to have you come by for a while now and he’s been swimming around it,” Tsireya explained. “She thinks he keeps you purposely away from her and I’m guessing she’s had enough… and of course she’d choose the day he was on an all day hunt.”

“Ah. I see.” Lýn weighed her options, then, “Reya, I have no clue what to say to her… the few times we’ve interacted were- weird and awkward and honestly, I don’t think she likes me very much.”

“Lýn, trust me, you’ll be fine. She simply wants to get to know you. She did the same thing with my Lo’ak.”

That did ease away some of Ayelýn’s nerves.

Tsireya took her hand and squeezed it in comfort. “And just a secret between you and me… if she offers you to stay for a meal with her, it means she definitely approves.”

Ayelýn tried not to squirm, but sitting before an intimidating Ronal would make just about anyone uncomfortable.

They’d been sitting in silence ever since she’d arrived and Lýn decided to cope by focusing on her surroundings while Ronal continued to study her. After all, every nook of the Tsahìk’s marui had something curious to see.

“What is your appointed position in your village, Ayelýn?”

Lýn startled, not only from the sudden break in their long, suffering silence, but also from the question.

By now, it was no secret what her role in the clan was. Ayelýn had gotten her fair share of snickers and stray comments and at one feast only a couple days ago, she had to pull away a snarling Aonung when he’d overheard a group of women bad mouthing her and her scrubber status.

The Tsahìk had also been present and seated nearby and Lýn had even caught her watching the ordeal in great interest.

“I’m a scrubber, Tsahìk.”

“Hm. Do you enjoy it?”

“I don’t think anyone enjoys being a scrubber,” Lyn answered honestly. “But it is work, and I am diligent about it.”

Ronal appeared to think before she spoke again.

“Should you have the opportunity, what would you prefer to be doing then?”

“Oh- no, I-”

“T’is only a question, child. Won’t you humor a curious woman?”

“Ah… I- I suppose I’ve always had an interest in mending things.” Lýn held in a chuckle, remembering her first meeting with Aonung and his mortified reaction to her canoe. “Though I don’t believe I’d be any good at it given my lack of skill.”

“Skill can be easily learnt,” Ronal said, helping herself to a sip of her brewed seaweed and herb tea. “If I’m not mistaken, Hythspon is finally considering getting an apprentice- I believe you know him? Perhaps you might be interested in taking the position? I can put in a good word for you, if you’d like.”

Ayelýn sat up straighter. “Truly? I- thank you, Tsahìk… I will give it some thought.”

“You should… It means, you’d also be closer to Aonung since you’d have to move to Awa’atlu.”

Unsure how to respond to that, Ayelýn mashed her lips together and gave a small nod.

“My son does not realize it, but he speaks a great deal about you. I, however, am interested in getting to know the women he intends to mate and bring into our family, for myself... So tell me.” Ronal sat back expectantly.

Lýn frowned. “What exactly would you like to know?”

“Everything, my dear. Everything. You will not be Tsahìk- since my Reya is next in line, but if and when you and my son do mate, you will be the mate of the Metkayina’s future Olo'eyktan. It is my duty to know who that woman is… So tell me, everything.”

And so, Lýn spoke as Ronal asked her question after question.

She was asked about her family and her completed rites; Keftxo, her childhood, her likes and dislikes, what her values were and what she did in her free time. Ronal asked her what she envisioned for her future, even how many children she wanted to have.

With each question, they became more direct and personal and Ayelýn felt her walls going up and panic bubble in her chest. Her body was so rigid and tense, she had to force herself to unclench her jaw, to uncurl her tail and to give her shoulders the occasional roll.

When requested, Ayelýn recounted the story of how she and Aonung first met and then Ronal asked her a question she had been dreading the most.

“Aonung won’t say, but when do you believe you two will take the next step? I am keen to have the meeting of the two families. Tonowari and I have been lenient. We gave Aonung a year, it has now been almost two. I understand this must be a bit difficult for you, but… it has been long enough.”

Stunned, Ayelýn fiddled with the end of her tail, then, catching herself, she stopped. “We will discuss it, Tsahìk,” she feebly promised.

“That is all I ask,” she said. “You may continue to court of course, there is no pressure to make the mating bond just yet.”

Tension eased from Lýn’s shoulders at that.

“But, you have to understand, we need to know for certain whether or not this is a secure match,” she explained with surprising gentleness.

“I understand.”

“Good… Now tell me, Ayelýn. Are you happy in your courtship with my son? Truly?”

“Yes. He-” Lýn cleared her throat. “I am happy… He makes me happy.”

“Hmm.” Ronal’s unwavering eyes made Lýn uncomfortable. “I must speak my mind when I say I was quite surprised by my son’s choice of you.”

Feeling another wall of guardedness shift into place, Lýn clenched her jaw. “Because I am a scrubber from Keftxo?”

Surprise clouded Ronal’s features for a fraction of a second. “Oh goodness, no. Nothing to do with that. If anything I am baffled as to why you- a woman with her head on her shoulders- are with my Aonung- given how he can be.”

“How he- can be? Forgive me, Tsahìk, but don’t understand.”

“Aonung is… subversive. He is wild and brash- rude. He is selfish in nature and is reckless with his life. As his mother, I want nothing more than for him to see that he is destined to do great things.”

Lýn’s heart thundered in her chest. She should have bit her tongue but it was quicker to release. “Your son is already doing great things.”

Ronal regarded the woman before her. Gone was the fidgeting, nervous slip of a Na’vi. Ayelýn was livid.

“You don’t agree with me?” she asked, mildly amused.

“No. No, I don’t. Aonung is defined by none of those descriptions.”

“Oh?”

“Tsahìk, my apologies for speaking out of turn but- Aonung is bold, and kind. He is brave and he may seem selfish at times like you say but he would put his own life in danger for the help of others. He is brash and rude but he is also funny and sweet and charming- and he wants nothing more than your approval of him. He wants you and his father to see him- not as a constant disappointment but as your son…. He’s a good leader, he has heart and strength and the people love him!

“And yes he has his flaws- Don’t we all?! But he is our future Olo'eyktan- his mistakes no matter how big or small are seen as monumental in anyone else's eyes. He’s allowed to make mistakes, he’s allowed to learn from them and not have them constantly thrown back in his face... Like anyone else, he’s allowed to be forgiven…. Especially by his parents.”

Silence followed.

An awestruck appearance of realization formed on the Tsahìk’s face and Lýn braced herself for Ronal’s wrath.

“You speak with such passion for Aonung. I had not realized you were in love with my son.”

Ayelýn released a shaky breath. Not outrightly disagreeing with the statement, she didn’t correct it either.

Since her mother’s slip of the word love a little over a month ago, she’d had sufficient time to dwell and think.

At every attempt to reason away the absurdity, Lýn had failed.

She was in love with Aonung.

Through and through.

Flaws and all.

“We are courting, Tsahìk. Of course I care deeply for him.”

“For someone like Aonung with a commitment to his clan, courting has nothing to do with love, child. It is a path to secure a match in the end. You may care deeply, yes, but finding love in courtship for him is a gift. As leaders, courtship means duty, honor, security.”

Lýn bit her lip. She finally understood the pressures Aonung face day after day.

“Then, as a leader whose duty is for the clan- their needs, their happiness… Doesn’t Aonung deserve that too? You speak of love as this surprising gift between a match. But… can’t he just want to find love for himself?”

Ronal’s lips twitched and instead of answering, she asked her own questions. “Does my son know? Does he know how deep your feelings for him fall?”

“...No.”

“And will you tell him?”

Ayelýn’s head bowed, wordlessly answering the question.

“Pity… Well. There is still time, no?” The Tsahìk uncovered a platter. “I am famished. Would you like to join me for lunch, Ayelýn?”

Staring stunned at the spread, when Lýn glanced up, Ronal was smiling.

The type of smile that told Ayelýn she’d passed some kind of test.

Hello friends! 💛

Firstly, I promise you, I tried so many others, but that's the title that happened to stick for this part... and on the topic, I hope the smut was alright... Hehe.

This part got way too long, so I split it into two. The next one coming out will be the final part. *Fingers Crossed*

As always, please let me know what you think.

Tags:@jakesullyfatjuicypeen@granddearduck@riatesullironalite@strawberri-blonde@earthling55 @innercreationflower @gyuventure @btsiguess-kpop@blkmystery@neteswife@luvteyams@isnt-itstrange@erenjaegerwifee@faatxma@ivysully@bakugouswaif@pinkpantheris @mntx666@ironcaptainnataliabarnes @staymentallystable @neteyamslovrr @melsunshine

#safe haven #courting ayelyn #aonung #aonung mini fic #aonung fanfic #aonung x reader #aonung x female reader #aonung x y/n

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womenaremypriority · 2 months ago

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This is so horrific.

———————

I have been following Siro’s story for 30 years, ever since I went to interview her and four other rural midwives in India’s Bihar state in 1996.

They had been identified by a non-governmental organisation as being behind the murder of baby girls in the district of Katihar where, under pressure from the newborns’ parents, they were killing them by feeding them chemicals or simply wringing their necks.

Hakiya Devi, the eldest of the midwives I interviewed, told me at the time she had killed 12 or 13 babies. Another midwife, Dharmi Devi, admitted to killing more - at least 15-20.

It is impossible to ascertain the exact number of babies they may have killed, given the way the data was gathered.

But they featured in a report published in 1995 by an NGO, based on interviews with them and 30 other midwives. If the report’s estimates are accurate, more than 1,000 baby girls were being murdered every year in one district, by just 35 midwives. According to the report, Bihar at the time had more than half a million midwives. And infanticide was not limited to Bihar.

Refusing orders, Hakiya said, was almost never an option for a midwife.

“The family would lock the room and stand behind us with sticks,” says Hakiya Devi. “They’d say: ‘We already have four-five daughters. This will wipe out our wealth. Once we give dowry for our girls, we will starve to death. Now, another girl has been born. Kill her.’

“Who could we complain to? We were scared. If we went to the police, we’d get into trouble. If we spoke up, people would threaten us."

The role of a midwife in rural India is rooted in tradition, and burdened by the harsh realities of poverty and caste. The midwives I interviewed belonged to the lower castes in India’s caste hierarchy. Midwifery was a profession passed on to them by mothers and grandmothers. They lived in a world where refusing orders of powerful, upper-caste families was unthinkable.

The midwife could be promised a sari, a sack of grain or a small amount of money for killing a baby. Sometimes even that was not paid. The birth of a boy earned them about 1,000 rupees. The birth of a girl earned them half.

The reason for this imbalance was steeped in India’s custom of giving a dowry, they explained. Though the custom was outlawed in 1961, it still held strong in the 90s - and indeed continues into the present day.

A dowry can be anything - cash, jewellery, utensils. But for many families, rich or poor, it is the condition of a wedding. And this is what, for many, still makes the birth of a son a celebration and the birth of a daughter a financial burden.

Siro Devi, the only midwife of those I interviewed who is still alive, used a vivid physical image to explain this disparity in status.

“A boy is above the ground - higher. A daughter is below - lower. Whether a son feeds or takes care of his parents or not, they all want a boy.”

The preference for sons can be seen in India’s national-level data. Its most recent census, in 2011, recorded a ratio of 943 women to every 1,000 men. This is nevertheless an improvement on the 1990s - in the 1991 census, the ratio was 927/1,000.

By the time I finished filming the midwives’ testimonies in 1996, a small, silent change had begun. The midwives who once carried out these orders had started to resist.

This change was instigated by Anila Kumari, a social worker who supported women in the villages around Katihar, and was dedicated to addressing the root causes of these killings.

Anila’s approach was simple. She asked the midwives, “Would you do this to your own daughter?”

Her question apparently pierced years of rationalisation and denial. The midwives got some financial help via community groups and gradually the cycle of violence was interrupted.

Siro, speaking to me in 2007, explained the change.

“Now, whoever asks me to kill, I tell them: ‘Look, give me the child, and I’ll take her to Anila Madam.’”

The midwives rescued at least five newborn girls from families who wanted them killed or had already abandoned them.

One child died, but Anila arranged for the other four to be sent to Bihar’s capital, Patna, to an NGO which organised their adoption.

The story could have ended there. But I wanted to know what had become of those girls who were adopted, and where life had taken them.

Anila’s records were meticulous but they had few details about post-adoption.

Working with a BBC World Service team, I got in touch with a woman called Medha Shekar who, back in the 90s, was researching infanticide in Bihar when the babies rescued by Anila and the midwives began arriving at her NGO. Remarkably, Medha was still in touch with a young woman who, she believed, was one of these rescued babies.

Anila told me that she had given all the girls saved by the midwives the prefix “Kosi” before their name, a homage to the Kosi river in Bihar. Medha remembered that Monica had been named with this “Kosi” prefix before her adoption.

The adoption agency would not let us look at Monica’s records, so we can never be sure. But her origins in Patna, her approximate date of birth and the prefix “Kosi” all point to the same conclusion: Monica is, in all probability, one of the five babies rescued by Anila and the midwives.

When I went to meet her at her parents’ home some 2,000km (1,242 miles) away in Pune, she said she felt lucky to have been adopted by a loving family.

“This is my definition of a normal happy life and I am living it,” she said.

Monica knew that she had been adopted from Bihar. But we were able to give her more details about the circumstances of her adoption.

Earlier this year, Monica travelled to Bihar to meet Anila and Siro.

Monica saw herself as the culmination of years of hard work by Anila and the midwives.

“Someone prepares a lot to do well in an exam. I feel like that. They did the hard work and now they’re so curious to meet the result… So definitely, I would like to meet them.”

Anila wept tears of joy when she met Monica. But Siro’s response felt different.

She sobbed hard, holding Monica close and combing through her hair.

“I took you [to the orphanage] to save your life… My soul is at peace now,” she told her.

But when, a couple of days later, I attempted to press Siro about her reaction, she resisted further scrutiny.

“What happened in the past is in the past,” she said.

But what is not in the past is the prejudice some still hold against baby girls.

Reports of infanticide are now relatively rare, but sex-selective abortion remains common, despite being illegal since 1994.

If one listens to the traditional folk songs sung during childbirth, known as Sohar, in parts of north India, joy is reserved for the birth of a male child. Even in 2024, it is an effort to get local singers to change the lyrics so that the song celebrates the birth of a girl.

While we were filming our documentary, two baby girls were discovered abandoned in Katihar - one in bushes, another at the roadside, just a few hours old. One later died. The other was put up for adoption.

Before Monica left Bihar, she visited this baby in the Special Adoption Centre in Katihar.

She says she was haunted by the realisation that though female infanticide may have been reduced, abandoning baby girls continues.

“This is a cycle… I can see myself there a few years ago, and now again there’s some girl similar to me.”

But there were to be happier similarities too.

The baby has now been adopted by a couple in the north-eastern state of Assam. They have named her Edha, which means happiness.

“We saw her photo, and we were clear - a baby once abandoned cannot be abandoned twice,” says her adoptive father Gaurav, an officer in the Indian air force.

Every few weeks Gaurav sends me a video of Edha's latest antics. I sometimes share them with Monica.

Looking back, the 30 years spent on this story were never just about the past. It was about confronting uncomfortable truths. The past cannot be undone, but it can be transformed.

And in that transformation, there is hope.

#I recommend going to the article too!

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elenamegan14 · 1 year ago

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Yandere One Piece - Irish/Nordic Fae Folk Myth X F!Reader - Prologue

It's a spooky season, and I have yet to see any Yandere One Piece reader fics based on Slavic myths and legends! Blame me for being too invested in Bramble: the Mountain King game.

---

Once, there was a childless couple who lived in a quaint village. Although the village is rich in tradition and harvest, it was also a fearsome place. Not far from them lies a great forest called the Grand Line, a home of every fae folks, each more astounding and nightmarish than man had ever known.

But that was where our story began.

One night, on a full moon during a winter’s eve, the couple is visited by a frail, old woman. They immediately brought her in, warmed her, and fed her. When all is done, she transforms into a beautiful fairy. A member of the fairy monarchy, Rogue.

To thank the couple, Rogue rewarded them with something they had yearned for years: a child. And so, on the first day of Spring, a healthy baby girl was born.

Alas, even the fairy world has it;s own rules, and the rule is crueler than the rules of mankind. A baby who is granted life by the fairy must be returned back by the ripe age of thirteen. Rogue did not want her work to go to waste, so she told the couple that they must move the child away from the village, never to enter any fairy rings at any cost, and give their child a pair of special earrings made of iron to protect them.

Thus, the family evaded the pursuit of the fae folks beyond the age of thirteen. In retaliation, the fae folks began to terrorize the villagers - they would not stop to torment them until the child was given to them. Furious at the fleeing family for putting them into this bedlam, the villagers set up a trap to return the child back to the Grand Line.

Eighteen years have passed, and the child grew up in the Kingdom of Goa. With each passing day, the blessings from Rogue had made the child cunning, wise, and attractive. The child was a curious oddity amongst her peers, but there was one person who despised her existence more so than the others.

Sarie is the daughter of a notorious monarchy in the Goa Kingdom. Although she has everything in the palm of her hand, she is wicked jealous of the child’s charm and beauty. Her opportunity stuck when a vengeful villager asked her to cooperate to rid of the child’s existence in the mortal world.

Soon after, Sarie begged her fiancee, Sterry, to arrange a special trip only for his classmates, the child included, straight to the child’s original village. Sterry and his cohorts lured the child to the edge of the forest, right before the entrance of Grand Line. Once there, Sarie threw her scarf into the middle of the fairy ring and asked the child to pick it up for her.

The child is confused. Why should she follow such a petty instruction? Also, the child pleaded that she was not supposed to enter the fairy ring at any cost. However, Sterry and their classmates loudly demanded her to do so.

When the child reluctantly tried to enter the fairy ring, Sterry once again ordered the child to take off the child’s iron earrings for Sarie. She tried to refuse but Sterry warned her that if she disobeyed, he would make sure that she became the enemy of Goa.

The child had always wanted to be accepted by Sterry and Sarie - she did not understand what she had done wrong to receive his ire. The child also knew that Sarie and Sterry’s family had more power than her family did. She hastily took off her earrings and gave them to Sarie. With a heavy heart, she entered the fairy ring.

Sterry and Sarie’s deception became light once she turned around inside the fairy ring, only to find herself alone in a strange forest. She ran back and forth, calling for her classmates.

None answered.

Alone, terrified, and confused, the child trekked into the woods of Grand Line on her own, in hoping to find her way home… not knowing that she had fulfilled her promise…

And break the village’s curse.

---

You are wandering around the fogged oath, unable to see what's beyond. Suddenly, you heard footsteps. Behind you, in front of you, everywhere! You barely have a moment's rest when a mischievous-looking human-like creature appears before your very eyes. Shrieking, you fall back behind, astounded by what you see.

"Shishishi! Did I scare you?" The creature grinned hugely, enhancing his unique shaggy features with a stitched scar underneath his left eye.

Monkey D. Luffy, the Pookah, has arrived. Next

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songs-of-the-east · 1 year ago

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“A grandmother and her grandson in the family home in Sari Bash, a village in the Crimean steppe where Tatars were given virtually worthless land. The village is a former prison camp with very poor infrastructure.”

Photographed by Carolyn Drake in Crimea, Ukraine. 2006.

#ukraine #photojournalist #islam #tatar #muslims #crimean tatars #ukrainian #crimea #carolyn drake #turkic #European Muslims #tatars #photojournalism #crimean tatar

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enchanted-moura · 6 days ago

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youtube

“The Gulabi Gang' is a documentary on a social movement in the villages of Bundelkhand- a group of women committed to protecting themselves and other women against social malpractice, abusive husbands and corrupt administrators.

So called because of the bright pink saris they wear, the movement is led by Sampat Pal, a forty five year old village woman who was married at twelve and became a mother at fifteen. Since 2006, when the Gulabi gang gave themselves a name and an attire, they have intervened in several cases of domestic abuse,prevented child marriages and exposed government scams.”

#Youtube

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bayoubashsims · 19 days ago

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Al-Nusar Mosque

The Al Nusar Mosque was constructed in 1850 when the Sari village--then already under Dutch rule for a quarter of a century--came under the influence of Cirebon when most of its adherents were a mixture of Hindus and ancestral folk beliefs.

Now, the historic mosque sits as the center of the hamlet of Cibubut and the Al Nusar Pesantren boarding school. The 162 year old relic is a silent guardian of Mount Ceremai, with the prayers of its clerics and pupils keeping the evils of the mountain at bay, but even the grounds of the mosque are not free from the spirits.

#the sims 2 #the sims #ts2 #paterosari #indonesia

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mahi-wayy · 5 months ago

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𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊 | ᴄʜɪᴛᴛɪ ʙᴀʙᴜ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ : Chittibabu x Fem!Oc

ғᴀɴᴅᴏᴍ : Rangasthalam

ʟᴇɴɢᴛʜ : 2k

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴs : Chittibabu being the adorable dork he is, fluff for once, mention of a physical fight, did I mention chittibabu being a goof?

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ : 𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 chittibabu was just a little lovesick.

ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

A/n : enjoy the fluff and cutness while you can bcz I am working on a ram one-shot next and it will not be pretty.

_____________

Chitti babu was NOT in love, he really wasn't okay. He was just curious, nothing else at all, people were talking nonsense.

That was what was running in his head all the time these days, the absolute denial of any feeling towards the new resident of his village.

Who is he talking about? Vedika Iyer.

She came to the village four weeks ago, along with his brother. At first the whole village thought Kumar babu got married, his mother almost had a heart attack and proceeded to faint quite literally, his sister was amused.

It took his brother hours to explain to all of them that she was just a colleague, someone who works with him, she had nowhere else to go so he brought him along with him.

Kashi is still suspicious about the whole thing but other than the that everyone believed him, mostly.

Now coming to the second question, how was Vedika? She was an anomaly to the whole village. She wasn't shy per say, she was educated as much as his brother which was a very unusual thing for a woman, she loved learning and teaching. Chitti was sure he had seen her teaching the kids something or the other on multiple occasions.

Other than that, she was what he liked to call a sweet red chilli. He will elaborate okay, Vedika was a polite lady, she spoke softly yet firmly with a certain rhythm, she was always helping the ladies around even if she had to learn the task first.

But she is an absolute monster when it comes to her opinions or taking stand for what she thinks is right. He still remembers, a week ago, one of the young boys coming crying to him and his brother, they thought some other guy had beaten him but it was actually Vedika who had thrashed him with a staff in the middle of the market.

When asked why she did that, she said the boy was messing with the girl's clothes when they bathed and she had even politely asked him not to but when he didn't listen she just grabbed the nearest thing and beat it into him.

I mean it was not surprising coming from a woman who ran away from her house because she wanted to study.

But the point stayed Chitti just admired her as a person, he was NOT in love.

“Aye!!! Chittibabu, she is coming!!”

The yell brought him out of his thoughts and he propped himself off his elbows before turning his head to the left and indeed there she was walking towards him in all her glory.

Wrapped in a blue sari and yellow blouse, her kamarband moving along with the sway of her smooth and soft to look waist, her mouth biting on the sugarcane before she tore a piece easily, sucking up the sweetness while the other hand swung her waist length, garland decorated, braid in circular motion.

Yeah okay maybe he liked her a little bit, just a little.

“What?”

He asks once she stops in front of him, he hasn't even realised when he has sat up straight, the woman just looks at him before spitting out the piece of sugarcane to her left.

He has to physically remind himself to breathe when her feet come to rest on his thigh, the sound of her anklets clearer than anything he has ever managed to hear and the sugarcane stick pressed against his chest as she leaned closer.

“Your brother says you like me, the village says you don't and your mother says we should get married anyway. What is this confusion huh? I don't mind it, you're quite lovable.”

She speaks in a reasonable volume, one he could catch but also speaks slowly just in case he had to lip read what she just said, she was sweet like that.

But back to the point, he really wishes mother earth would open and swallow him whole. Does she have to be this direct? and what's with the position? It's not good for his heart rate.

“I don't, my brother says anything, I don't like anyone.”

It was true. He was NOT in love with her, for lord sakes.

“So you don't like me? At all?”

The woman steps back and lets the sugarcane drop from her hand, making him fumble with it before he manages to grab it just before it falls to the ground, his gaze lifts up only to stop at her waist.

This was a trap. This was a very clear trap and he knew it but no matter what curse he yelled at himself he just couldn't tear his eyes off the tan skin decorated with that silver chain, he was just grateful his hands were full and under his control right now.

“Chitti?”

Her voice brings him out of his trance and he straightens up clearing his throat.

“Yeah yeah, I don't like anyone. Not even you.”

“Hmm…okay.”

She turns away, her pallu brushing over his face in the process, walking off like nothing happened.

Vedika Iyer really was an anomaly and Chittibabu was going crazing because of the said anomaly.

No seriously, Chitti was very suspicious of him losing his mind because no matter what he tries he just can't shake her off his mind, especially the conversation they had that day.

Nothing was wrong with her, the woman was chill as ever, helping people, chatting with his brother, roaming in the fields while learning about them and occasionally throwing a smile his way.

What was wrong was the fact that he has started looking forward to those occasional smiles, going as far as to step in her way for it hence the suspicion of losing his mind.

But he was Chittibabu, what was he if not stubborn as a damn bull. So he too vowed not to even be in a ten metre radius of her, let alone waiting for her smiles.

It was working fine, he was a little restless but that was because of the heat not because he wasn't seeing Vedika.

He was proud of himself for not seeing the woman for two days straight when he entered his house and it was getting decorated, what's this now?

“Amma!! What's going on??” He asked, taking a glass of water and drinking while his mother continued tying the garland.

“Preparing for the marriage.”

“Who's?”

His words were jumbled as he drank his second glass of water, it was hot today, he needed hydration.

“Vedika's”

He ended up spitting the water out, so much for hydration, nevermind that he thinks he misheard again.

“Who's?”

“VEDIKA'S!!”

He heard right, he cannot not hear that volume, he definitely heard right. Moving to the next question.

“With whom?”

“With my anna.” Annie said, taking the glass from him.

It can't be him because no one has even mentioned the topic to him so, not him then who…Kumar babu!? his brother. There was no way either of the parties were agreeing to this for very obvious reasons, nope not happening.

“I was so surpised when she said yes in the first time.”

He could hear his own heart in his ears and his chest hurts, was this a heart attack. Not the time for this to be honest, he needs to get to that girl right now. He half hears-half ignores the calls of his mother, stomping his way to the fields.

This was ridiculous, the girl talks about marriage to him, calls him lovable, winks at him, smiles at him but says yes to marry his brother.

He is calling bullshit.

It takes him thirty minutes before he finds her and it irks him because while he was sweating and panting like an animal she was asleep under the shed of a big tree.

Her red pallu covered her face, her skirt rising a little up revealing her anklet clad feets which dangled off the cot slightly, his eyes stopped at her waist, like always. Since she has used the pallu to cover her face, there was more skin visible than normal and he seriously was contemplating his existence before he remembered why he came here in the first place.

Without a moment of hesitation he glides his colossal, rough from work palms on the soft, warm skin of her waist before pinching her.

It gets him the desired reaction of her jolting awake startled, her pallu falls off her shoulder in the haste, her hair open falling forward cowering some of her blouse clad chest but not much of it and Chitti is once again left to rethink the existence of the world.

“Chitti!? What are you doing?”

Her voice guides his mind back to sensibility and he pushes her physically to make space for himself to sit down.

“Did you say I am quite lovable or did you not?”

“Huh?”

“Did you or did you not?”

“I did…”

He can feel his eye twitching from the irritation rising in him.

“Did you or did you not say, you won't mind us being married?”

“Where is this coming from?”

He pinches her again making her yelp, he concludes he loves the sound.

“I did, I did say that.”

Chittibabu was really done with this nonsense, he folded his legs under him and leaned forward, invading her personal space.

“Then explain to me why my mother and sister are preparing for your and my brother's wedding!?”

The woman blinked at him twice and he kind of had the urge to kiss her.

“What rubbish!? Why would I marry a man I consider a brother, what are you saying!?”

“What I heard!! Annie says you're all ready for the arrangement.”

The female frowns for a minute before face-palming and chuckling out loud.

“You're adorable, you know that?”

That melts him faster than Chitti would admit and he backs away, choosing to set this perfectly fine moustache.

However two soft lips press against his cheek in an audible and firm smack, his body freezes and the soul exits it.

What the ever loving fuck-

He hears a familiar giggle and pulls back his soul to his body and stands up with a jolt, to face the girl giggling at his state.

“Y…you're laughing!? what is this nonsense!?”

He has no idea what he is even saying at this point, all he knows Vedika has kissed him and he was very close to death thanks to it.

“I did say yes for the marriage…”

“What the- you just kissed me!?”

“Let me finish you goof, I said yes to marriage with Annie's anna but Kumar isn't the only anna she has no? you're also her brother right??”

“What- you mean- I-”

He sits back down in shock of his own ridiculousness, her arms coming to wrap around him sideways, her chin resting on his shoulder.

“Umm hmm I proposed marriage, you mother and brother accepted it. I am not going to stay unmarried for my whole life because the man I love is a little slow.”

He nods his head in agreement before his brain crashes again, his soul stays in his body this time thankfully.

“Love? You love me!?”

“You think I talk about marriage to every other guy?”

He shakes his head aggressively making her laugh out loud again, a soft chuckle leaves his mouth too as he turns his gaze away to hide the flushing cheeks.

Chitti feels her leaning closer, thinking he has missed something she just said he turns to ask her to repeat it only for a pair of lips to collide with his own.

His eyes widen, so does her as they pull back within seconds, for a solid minute they just stare at each other before she covers her mouth, looking away smiling.

A blush graces his cheeks too, this time darker as he rubs the nape of his neck. Vedika looks back at him, raising her brows in a question he recognizes easily, he looks first left, then right before slipping a arm around her waist, her hands coming to cup his bearded handsome face before their lips meet again. This time with the intention of being on one another for a while.

He smiles in the lip lock and finally gives in.

Chittibabu was not in love, he was sick in Vedika's love at this point.

______________

taglist : @warnermeadowsgirl @mayakimayahai @voidsteffy @vijayasena [let me know if you wanna be tagged!!]

#chittibabu #chittibabu × oc #chittibabu × fem!oc #chittibabu x reader #rangasthalam #rangasthalam fic #ram charan fic #south indian fanfic

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fursasaida · 11 months ago

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Tumblr won't turn the URL into a link card for whatever reason, so, here's a Washington Post article about Israel using white phosphorus in Lebanon. Some key points here, full text under the cut:

White phosphorus is technically legal when used to obscure military activities and at a distance from civilians. In this case it was directly targeted at homes in Dheira, a village near the Lebanese border with Israel. 4 homes were incinerated and 9 people injured in this particular attack on 10/16. Residents have been displaced.

Amnesty International has called for this to be treated as a war crime.

The white phosphorus munitions are US-made according to unnamed weapons experts, Amnesty International, and the Post itself. They appear to have been manufactured in 1989 and 1992. The Biden administration claims not to have included white phosphorus in arms transfers to Israel since 10/7.

The IDF claims these were used to create obscuring smoke and not to target civilians; they possess safer munitions that would do the same thing without contaminating bodies, soil, and buildings, but did not use those.

A part that deserves highlighting in full: "Israeli forces continued to shell the town with white phosphorus munitions for hours, residents said, trapping them in their homes until they could escape around 7 a.m. the next morning. Residents now refer to the attack as the 'black night.' Most fled the town when the shelling stopped, returning during a week-long pause in fighting and leaving again when it resumed. Uday Abu Sari, a 29-year-old farmer, said in an interview that he was trapped in his home for five hours during the shelling and was unable to breathe because of the smoke. He suffered respiratory problems for days after the attack. 'Emergency services told us to put something that was soaked in water on our faces, which helped a bit. I couldn’t see my finger in front of my face,' he said. 'The whole village became white.'"

"White phosphorus fell onto several homes and ignited fires, incinerating furniture and stripping appliances to scorched metal. Remnants of the sticky, black chemical littered the ground 40 days after the attack and combusted when residents kicked at it."

US officials, as usual, expressed "concern" and an intention to "learn more," which of course means nothing.

As a reminder, this is not a unique attack on Lebanese soil since the slaughter started. "Israel has used the munition more than 60 times in Lebanon’s border areas in the past two months, according to data collected by ACLED, a group that monitors war zones. Lebanese Prime Minister Najib Mikati said on Dec. 2 that Israel’s use of the munition has 'killed civilians and produced irreversible damage to more than 5 million square meters of forests and farmland, in addition to damaging thousands of olive trees.'"

By William Christou, Alex Horton and Meg Kelly

Updated December 11, 2023 at 3:48 p.m. EST | Published December 11, 2023 at 6:00 a.m. EST

DHEIRA, Lebanon — Israel used U.S.-supplied white phosphorus munitions in an October attack in southern Lebanon that injured at least nine civilians in what a rights group says should be investigated as a war crime, according to a Washington Post analysis of shell fragments found in a small village.

A journalist working for The Post found remnants of three 155-millimeter artillery rounds fired into Dheira, near the border of Israel, which incinerated at least four homes, residents said. The rounds, which eject felt wedges saturated with white phosphorous that burns at high temperatures, produce billowing smoke to obscure troop movements as it falls haphazardly over a wide area. Its contents can stick to skin, causing potentially fatal burns and respiratory damage, and its use near civilian areas could be prohibited under international humanitarian law.

Of the nine injured in Israel’s attack on Dheira, at least three were hospitalized, one for days.

Lot production codes found on the shells match the nomenclature used by the U.S. military to categorize domestically produced munitions, which show they were made by ammunition depots in Louisiana and Arkansas in 1989 and 1992. The light green color and other markings — like “WP” printed on one of the remnants — are consistent with white phosphorous rounds, according to arms experts.

The M825 smoke rounds, fired from 155mm howitzers, have legitimate use on the battlefield, including signaling friendly troops, marking targets and producing white smoke that conceals soldiers from the eyes of enemy forces. The rounds are not intended for use as incendiary weapons.

The weapons are part of billions of dollars in U.S. military arms that flow to Israel every year, which has fueled Israel’s war on Hamas in the Gaza Strip, launched after the militants attacked on Oct. 7. At least 17,700 people, many of them civilians, have been killed since the Israeli operation began, according to the Gaza Health Ministry.

Following publication of this story, National Security Council spokesman John Kirby said Monday the administration is “concerned” about the use of white phosphorous munitions and that they would be “asking questions to try to learn a bit more.”

Tensions along Lebanon’s southern border between Israeli forces and Hezbollah, the Iranian-backed militia, have boiled over from a simmer to near-daily exchanges of fire in the weeks since Oct. 7.

Dheira, a town of 2,000, has become a focal point for fighting. Just across the border from an Israeli radar tower, it has been used as a staging ground for Hezbollah’s attacks against Israel. At least 94 people have been killed on the Lebanese side of the border since tensions escalated, according to data released on Dec. 5 by the Health Ministry — 82 have been militants, according to Hezbollah. In addition, at least 11 Israelis have been killed, most of them soldiers.

Photos and videos verified by Amnesty International and reviewed by The Post show the characteristic ribbons of white phosphorus smoke falling over Dheira on Oct. 16.

Israeli forces continued to shell the town with white phosphorus munitions for hours, residents said, trapping them in their homes until they could escape around 7 a.m. the next morning. Residents now refer to the attack as the “black night.”

Most fled the town when the shelling stopped, returning during a week-long pause in fighting and leaving again when it resumed.

Uday Abu Sari, a 29-year-old farmer, said in an interview that he was trapped in his home for five hours during the shelling and was unable to breathe because of the smoke. He suffered respiratory problems for days after the attack.

“Emergency services told us to put something that was soaked in water on our faces, which helped a bit. I couldn’t see my finger in front of my face,” he said. “The whole village became white.”

White phosphorus ignites when in contact with oxygen and burns at temperatures up to 1,500 degrees, which can cause severe injuries. The chemicals left in the body can damage to internal organs, sometimes fatally, according to a Human Rights Watch report.

It is unclear why the Israeli military fired the rounds into the evening, as smoke would have little practical use at night and there were no Israeli troops on the Lebanese side of the border to mask with smokescreens. Residents speculated that the phosphorus was meant to displace them from the village and to clear the way for future Israeli military activity in the area.

In a statement, the Israel Defense Forces wrote that white phosphorous shells launched by Israel are used to create smokescreens, not for targeting or causing fires. It said its use of the weapon “complies and goes beyond the requirements of international law.”

Israeli forces possess safer alternatives, such as M150 artillery rounds, which produce screening smoke without the use of white phosphorous.

The U.S. origin of the shells was verified by Human Rights Watch and Amnesty International. The same manufacturing codes also appear on white phosphorus shells lined up next to Israeli artillery by the city of Sderot, near the Gaza Strip, in an Oct. 9 photo.

The United States is under an obligation to track the behavior of its partners and allies who receive its assistance in order to comply with U.S. law, humanitarian law experts said. The use of white phosphorus smoke is permitted if used for legitimate military operations, but like other weapons, its misuse can violate laws of armed conflict. Rights groups have warned its use should be restricted around civilians because fire and smoke can be spread to populated areas.

“The fact that U.S.-produced white phosphorus is being used by Israel in south Lebanon should be of great concern to U.S. officials,” Tirana Hassan, the executive director of Human Rights Watch, wrote in an email. “[Congress] should take reports of Israel’s use of white phosphorus seriously enough to reassess U.S. military aid to Israel.”

The United States is not conducting real-time assessments of Israel’s adherence to the laws of war, Biden administration officials said.

“Anytime that we provide items like white phosphorous to another military, it is with a full expectation that it’ll be used in keeping with...legitimate purposes and in keeping with the law of armed conflict,” Kirby said.

It is unclear when the United States delivered the munitions to Israel. The U.S. has not provided white phosphorous munitions to Israel since the Oct. 7 Hamas attack, Pentagon spokesman Maj. Gen. Pat Ryder told reporters Monday.

“When it comes to our relationship with Israel, we’ll continue to communicate to them the importance of mitigating civilian harm,” Ryder said, adding that the department could not yet verify the weapons were from U.S. stocks.

White phosphorus fell onto several homes and ignited fires, incinerating furniture and stripping appliances to scorched metal. Remnants of the sticky, black chemical littered the ground 40 days after the attack and combusted when residents kicked at it.

In 2009, Human Rights Watch documented Israel’s use of U.S.-made white phosphorus munitions in violation of international law in its 22-day offensive in Gaza. At least one of the shells found by The Post in Dheira was from the same batch of white phosphorus used by Israel in 2009, according to lot production codes.

In 2013, the Israeli military pledged to stop using white phosphorus on the battlefield, saying it would transition to gas-based smoke shells.

Israel has used the munition more than 60 times in Lebanon’s border areas in the past two months, according to data collected by ACLED, a group that monitors war zones. Lebanese Prime Minister Najib Mikati said on Dec. 2 that Israel’s use of the munition has “killed civilians and produced irreversible damage to more than 5 million square meters of forests and farmland, in addition to damaging thousands of olive trees.”

Tyler Pager aboard Air Force One, Missy Ryan in Washington and Mohamad El Chamaa in Beirut contributed to this report.

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