#West End Air Conditioning | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 3 months ago

Text

Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Chapter 11: The Innocent Can Never Last]

A/N: Below are your guesses…let’s see how you did!!! 🥰😘 Only 2 chapters left 🥳

Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon™️, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes.

Series title is a lyric from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “Wake Me Up When September Ends” by Green Day.

Word count: 5.3k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🥰

“You could have gone to California with them,” Rio says as he flips open the fuel cap of a black Nissan Frontier, parked in the driveway of a two-story brick house on National Avenue, not far from where Route 95 branches north of Winnemucca like an artery from a heart.

You squint up at the cumulus clouds to avoid meeting his eyes. You keep thinking you’re going to cry and have to suffocate it, drown it, slit its throat. “I didn’t want to.”

“Sure you didn’t.” Sweat runs in rivulets down his face as he slides in the semitransparent siphoning hose, the one with the little pump on it that Jace had when you found him in Iowa. Aemond gave this to Cregan; he kept the hose without the pump for himself. A small, curious sacrifice. You are fanning Rio with a magazine, Bow International. You had grabbed it thinking of Daeron, then remembered he wasn’t here to give it to. “Jesus Christ, it’s so fucking hot…”

“Djibouti was hotter.”

“Djibouti had a beach. And an air conditioning unit in every window.”

Cregan is waiting by the Tahoe and leafing through a guidebook he found at the Maverik gas station. Ice is lying on the ground and panting beside him, her shaggy grey coat filthy with dust and sand. “The town was named for Chief Winnemucca, who was born in the 1820s in what would later become the Oregon Territory. It either means ‘the giver of spiritual gifts’ or ‘one moccasin,’ depending on the interpretation.”

Rio says: “Damn Cregan, you can read?”

Cregan frowns down at the guidebook with feigned regret. “I really wish Trump had built that wall.”

Rio guffaws. “Cregan, man, I told you. I was born here!”

He continues: “Winnemucca was a stop on the transcontinental railroad.”

“Great. Let’s get that up and running again.” Rio groans as he squeezes the pump on the siphoning hose with increasing frustration. “Absolutely nothing. Not a drop.”

“We probably have enough to get to Denio Junction,” you say gingerly, knowing he’s suffering. It has to be over 100 degrees.

“Yeah, and what if there’s no gas there? How the hell are we going to get to Adel, Oregon?”

“We could walk if we have to.”

“85 miles? In heat like this?”

“In basic training we had to run—”

“We had water in basic training, Chips!” he snaps; and Rio never snaps. “And real food, and corpsmen for if we passed out, and also there were no fucking zombies running around eating people, remember that part?!”

You stare down at the dirt. You can’t cry; you can’t waste the liquid.

“Wait, no, no, no, I’m sorry.” Rio lifts your chin so you aren’t able to hide from him. “I’m…you know…I should already be there. I could be in Odessa in six hours, I could be with Sophie and the baby before sundown, and instead we’re stuck here in the desert and I’m thinking…what if what should take hours ends up taking weeks? What if when I get there, I’m too late?”

You nod, you understand. Out on the road, Cregan keeps his face buried in his guidebook, trying to be polite and pretend he can’t hear you.

“And, I’m also thinking…” Rio says, soft and low. “That I don’t want to be the reason why you miss out on a chance at happiness when the world could literally be ending.”

You gaze up at him, dejected, pathetic. “I can’t handle any virgin jokes right now.”

“I know. I wasn’t going to make one.”

“I didn’t want to go with them to California,” you lie. And then a truth: “And I would never leave you. I promised.”

Rio smiles. “You promised not to let me die alone, and I don’t plan on dying. You’ve gotten me most of the way already.” He glances towards the Tahoe. “I think Axe Boy would have rather stayed with them too. When he was asleep last night I heard him mumbling something about Helaena.”

Cregan? Helaena? Interesting. “Aemond doesn’t want me.”

“Oh, come on. You know he and his one eye are sobbing into a can of SpaghettiOs right now.”

“Be nice,” you murmur morosely.

“Why? He can’t hear me,” Rio says. “Look, Aemond’s fucked up. And of course he is. He went from learning how to save lives and deliver babies to watching his friends die horrible, preventable, completely meaningless deaths. That’s gotta suck. It sucked for me, and I barely even knew them, and no one expected me to be able to do anything about it. Aemond’s the one people trusted to protect them, and he couldn’t. So why would he be able to protect you?”

I never wanted Aemond to protect me. I just wanted him to take me away from here, even for a minute, even for seconds, one hushed stolen moment at a time. “I wish I had said something different back in Battle Mountain.” I wish I had told him I love him. But I didn’t, and now it’s too late.

“You deserve to have the whole wholesome normal family thing, the husband and the kids and the warm fuzzy holiday traditions. I know you’ve always wanted that.”

“If I choose the wrong person, I’m going to end up alone and miserable. And I’ll turn into a monster like my mother.”

“Hey,” Rio says, like he’s ready to fight you. And then he uses your real name, something he’s done maybe five times since you met him, just like you almost never call him Bryan. “You will never be like your mother. Okay? It’s not possible. You don’t have it in you. You’re not a parasite, you’re not mean.”

You want to believe him. “Okay.”

Then Rio chuckles. “Actually, you’re going to end up like my mom. Living in the middle of the woods, making your own soap out of goat milk, growing weed and knitting sweaters.”

You smile wistfully. “I have no idea how to knit. I want to build things.” Then you remember something from when you were fishing on Lake McConaughy in Nebraska. “Aegon said I look like someone who knits. Whatever that means.”

“It means you’re from Kentucky.” Then Rio asks, tentative: “So…what do you think about Aegon?”

This seems random. “He’s cool. I like him, obviously. He’s, um…I don’t know how to describe it. He’s so sad but so warm. It’s impossible to feel nervous around him, which is nice.”

Rio nods, giving you a teasing smirk. “Alright then.”

“Why?”

“Well I was just thinking that if he grows up a little more, he might be good for you.”

“Rio, he’s thirty.”

He bursts out laughing. “So give it another decade and he’ll finally be baby daddy material.”

“I’m sure he’ll be preoccupied with his drug dealing and brothel empire by then.”

“You aren’t even the tiniest bit intrigued?”

“I’ve never really thought about him that way.” And there’s another dimension to it that wouldn’t occur to Rio: Aegon is an addict. You know what it’s like to have to depend on somebody like that. You would never allow yourself to fall in love with him, not the way he is now.

Rio sighs and pivots. “You want me to give you a baby?”

Now you’re giggling. Of course, he’s not serious, just like he wasn’t serious when you were trapped on that transmission tower together back in Pennsylvania. “Stop.”

“I’m super tall and charming, and I was a great electrician back when electricity existed, and I have luscious curly hair that you can readily observe since the U.S. Navy isn’t around to make me shave it off anymore.”

“Sorry, I don’t reproduce with Enrique Iglesias fans.”

“You are so racist, and yet I’d still be willing to help you out with a sperm donation. I’d blindfold myself and struggle through it somehow.” He’s grinning, but his dark eyes are kind. “As long as I’m alive, you will always have a family. And Sophie gets that. Her parents were fuckups too. That’s why she’s so close with mine even though they’re insane.”

“They’re exactly the right kind of insane for the way the world is now.”

“Remember when my dad went through his ‘wifi gives you cancer’ phase and would only communicate with me via Republican-president-themed postcards?”

“The Ronald Reagan one was neat. So many eagles.”

“Truly an excessive amount of eagles.” Rio goes for the porch. “I guess we’ll scrounge whatever we can inside and check the rest of the cars on the street before we head north.”

“I ain’t seen any others without the fuel cap already open,” Cregan says from the Tahoe, dispirited but trying not to show it.

“If we end up having to walk, we’re going to need water or Hawaiian Punch or something. A lot of it. Maybe we can find some of that Pedialyte stuff Aemond got for Jace when he was sick.” Rio pounds one closed fist against the front door. “Hey! Anybody home? We’re looking for supplies. Not trying to cause any problems. If somebody’s in there, just give a shout and we’d be happy to keep moving.”

You’ve followed Rio up onto the porch. “If there’s no water inside, canned fruit will work. You can drink the syrup for hydration, and all the sugar gives you calories.”

Back by the Tahoe, Cregan is leaning down to pet Ice. She’s still panting hard, foamy saliva dripping from her muzzle. “Y’all, we gotta get moving,” Cregan says. “Princess needs to be back in the truck with the AC, and I don’t want to waste gas by letting it idle.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re working on it.” Rio kicks the door once, hard enough that you hear the wood split near the hinges, dry and cracking. He backs up to prepare to give the door another blow, which is all it will take. Then there is a muffled voice from inside the house.

“Get the hell off my property!”

Immediately, you are stunned by the boom of an explosion, shards of wood flying like shrapnel, the steel barrel of a shotgun jutting from the fresh hole in the center of the door. Rio is scrambling off the porch and dragging you with him. With your free hand, you grab your M9 from its holster and begin shooting before the man inside can fire again, before he can kill Rio or Cregan or you. Your bullets pierce through the blackness of the gaping wound in the front door. You hear shrieks of agony; you see flecks of blood painting the wood. Now there are people shooting from the second-story windows, and you feel the wind of bullets clip by as Rio pulls you towards the Tahoe. The engine starts; Cregan is already in the driver’s seat. You return fire until your M9 makes only small, hollow clicks when you pull the trigger. And by then Rio is shoving you into the truck.

“Go, go, go!” Rio yells at Cregan the second he crawls in behind you and slams the door shut. Cregan swerves away from the curb and barrels down the street, tires squealing, gunshots still ringing out from the house. Ice is barking franticly.

“Rio, I’m out,” you say, terrified.

“What?”

“Bullets. I’m out of bullets.”

“We gotta go,” Rio concedes. There are scratches on his cheeks from splinters of wood, sweat turning from clear to blood-tinged pink as it drips down onto his shirt. “We gotta get out of Winnemucca. If we have to walk, we’ll walk. At least there’s no one north of here to worry about for a hundred miles. Not living and not dead either.”

From the backseat, you glance over at Cregan. “Oh my God, Cregan, you’re hurt.”

“I know.” His right forearm is covered in blood. It’s a graze wound, but deep; when he turns the steering wheel, you can glimpse the white of bone as his shredded muscles open like a mouth.

“You need stitches!”

“Oh yeah?” Cregan replies as the Tahoe bumps over corpses in the street, bodies mummified by the wind and the sun. “And which of you two would be better at that, you think?”

“We’ll get supplies to patch you up,” Rio says, peering out the window, searching for someplace to stop. “And enough food and water to last us through the desert. Right there, hop on Route 95, and we’ll find a store at the edge of town before we’re in No Man’s Land.” Cregan jerks the wheel; the Tahoe veers onto Route 95 heading north. Boarded-up houses and graffitied overpasses and gnarled bristlecone pine trees and lifeless traffic lights and looted storefronts pass by in a blur.

You turn to Rio. “What if those people try to follow us?”

“It’ll only take five minutes.”

“Rio…”

“We don’t have enough to drink. If we get stranded in the desert, we’ll die. I’m not dying out there. I didn’t cross 3,000 miles to drop dead just a few hundred away from Sophie.”

He’s right. There’s no other option. North of Winnemucca is a wasteland, a boneyard. “Okay,” you surrender, helping him look for stores. “But we have to be quick.”

“I can be real quick, baby. You’d know that if you took me up on my very selfless sperm donation offer.”

Cregan raises his eyebrows; you can see his reflection in the rearview mirror. “Y’all have a mighty strange relationship.”

Rio is pointing. “Right there, Riverside Grocery & Liquor. Let’s give that a try. Cregan? You see it? By the Taco Bell.”

“Of course you’d be attracted to Taco Bells,” Cregan says as the Tahoe zigzags across the parking lot, but his voice is woozy. Blood pours from the gash in his arm. What if the bullet severed a major artery? What if he’s bleeding to death?

You ask: “Cregan, do you feel okay?”

“I’m alright. Don’t you worry about me, Miss Chips. You got enough worries already.”

“You don’t look alright.”

His eyes meet yours in the rearview mirror; they are fearful. “I think I need to get pressure on it.”

“We’ll take care of you, buddy,” Rio says. And as soon as Cregan shifts the Tahoe into park, Rio is out the door and striding into the small grocery store, his Remington 12 gauge in his hands. It’s unloaded, but still good for blunt force trauma. The glass of one of the front doors has been shattered. Rio steps inside, his boots crunching on broken glass. You are right behind him; Cregan lifts Ice with his uninjured arm so she can get inside without cutting her paws.

Harsh desert sunlight streams in bright enough that you can see reasonably well, dusk or dawn instead of midday. The air tastes like dirt and decay. The shelves of alcohol have been picked clean, but cans and bottles and cardboard boxes have been left strewn haphazardly around the rest of the store. There are several circular racks of souvenir t-shirts: horses, mountains, pine trees, I was a buckaroo on the Cowboy Corridor, #DesertLife, Straight Outta Winnemucca. You yank a white shirt with a rattlesnake on it off its hanger and tie it tightly around Cregan’s bleeding forearm, closing the ragged ends of his wound.

Ice is whining and nudging at Cregan. “There’s one in here,” he warns.

“Yeah, I got it,” Rio says. She staggers out of the stockroom hissing and growling, the flesh on her face almost completely gone, her exposed skull stained with clotted blood, her teeth chattering. Long strands of blonde hair hang in patches from the back of her head. She is wearing a red vest with a nametag on it. Once upon a time, her parents called her Jasmine. Rio strikes the zombie with his Remington so hard it is decapitated, and the corpse crumples to the filthy tile floor as its head rolls over towards the cash register. Then he slings the shotgun over one of his shoulders and begins shopping.

Cregan is tall enough to see the tops of shelves where items have been missed; he pulls down bottles of Snapple, Gatorade, Yoohoo, Jarritos soda and stuffs them into his backpack. You are on your hands and knees sorting through the debris on the floor, everything coated with a layer of dust and sand. You find cans of mandarin oranges, boxes of graham crackers, tuna pouches, and packets of Tylenol. Cregan will need them. He needs more than that, but you can’t give it to him. You’ve never been to medical school. You grab more souvenir shirts to use as bandages later.

Maybe there are doctors in Odessa.

Rio says excitedly from the other side of the store: “Chips, they got Cheddar Whales!”

Maybe there’s a life worth living in Odessa.

“Just hurry up so we can go.”

“Yeah, yeah…” He’s filling his arms with boxes and bottles, making a lot of noise. Ice is pacing and whimpering, panting like she can hardly breathe, drooling gluey strings of saliva. The grocery store is an oven. Cregan pops open a can of Arizona iced tea and pours it into her mouth to be gulped greedily down. Still, Ice’s yellow wolfish eyes dart around the room, vigilant, rattled.

“I think there’s another zombie,” you say, watching her. You reach for your M9 before remembering it’s unloaded.

Cregan replies: “Sure she ain’t just overheated?”

Somewhere close, less than a mile away: gunshots out on the streets of Winnemucca.

“Ready, kids?” Rio says, his arms overflowing, half a Slim Jim hanging out of his mouth like a cigarette.

“Yes sir,” Cregan agrees. The t-shirt you knotted around his forearm is splotched with crimson, but the bleeding appears to have slowed. Fragments of glass shatter as he crosses through the doorway and out into the parking lot, carrying Ice as she struggles and barks.

Rio pauses as he passes one of the other t-shirt racks, circles of metal that gleam like halos. He’s rearranging his supplies so he has a free hand to grab a shirt he likes. There are more distant gunshots outside, and the squealing of tires. In the parking lot, Cregan is starting the Tahoe.

You say distractedly, noticing an empty Twizzlers wrapper on the floor and thinking of Jace: “Rio, let’s go.”

“Hold up, this one has an elephant on it—”

The hand juts out from below the rack and seizes his ankle, claws up his legs, rips and tears at him, grey flayed flesh and screeches from rotting vocal chords, something that used to be a man or a woman and is now only a monster, half a body, nothing from the waist down but shred of black necrotic muscle, skin, intestines, too close for Rio to push away, already clinging to him like graffiti on concrete, like a pair of stainless steel dog tags hanging from his neck. Without thinking, without hesitating, you are across the store and trying to get it off him, screaming as your fingers rake through disintegrating gore, so deep you can feel the zombie’s ribs like rungs of a ladder, trying to get a grip on it, trying to kill it. Now Cregan is back with his axe and he’s hacking at the skull as best he can without hitting Rio, and Ice is barking, and Cregan is yelling for you to get away before you’re bitten, but you don’t listen, you don’t care; all your life you were homesick until you found homes with Rio thousands of miles from where you were born, and if he’s gone then so is the only place you’ve ever belonged. There is a surge of blood, hot and metallic, rot and iron in the air, and you don’t know whose it is.

He can’t be gone. If he’s gone, who am I?

An arm hooks around your waist and drags you backwards, so roughly you lose your breath for a moment and cannot fight them; over your right shoulder, you see a hand holding a Glock. Aemond pulls the trigger and the zombie falls to the floor, a mangle of decomposition and exposed bones, because wherever the others ended up they found bullets and gasoline…and then they came back for you.

Aegon is stumbling over the rubble that litters the floor to get to Rio. You can hear Daeron and Rhaena’s voices out in the parking lot, and the blasts of Rhaena’s Ruger, the revolver she once didn’t know how to use. Cregan is trying to help Rio up, but he can’t stand. He is slumped against bare shelves and holding a hand to his throat, where he’s hemorrhaging from a gaping, ragged wound, torn arteries and lacerated veins. He’s been bitten, but his transformation won’t take long. He’s bleeding out. His dark eyes are on you, and beneath the glassy sheen of catastrophic blood loss is disbelief and fury and grief. He will never see Sophie again; he will never meet his child.

Your voice is a whisper, a phantom. “Bryan…”

“It only takes once, right?” he says, weak and guttural, already fading, blood on his lips. Then his eyes drift to Aemond. “Get her out of here.”

“No!” you shriek as Aemond pulls you towards the door, his arms locked around your waist, his lips to your ear as he begs you to come with him, that you have to leave, that it’s not safe here, that Rio doesn’t want you to see what has to happen next. Aegon is sobbing as he touches Rio’s face. Cregan bows his head; but he’s already looking at the Marlin .22 that hangs by its leather strap from Aegon’s shoulder. “No, I promised, I promised! I promised I wouldn’t let him die alone!”

“He’s not alone,” Aemond tells you, and he doesn’t let go when you struggle, when you scream. Burning sunlight floods over you, and you are in the parking lot. Rhaena and Daeron are shooting down zombies as they lurch towards the grocery store, drawn by the commotion, the symphony of the dead and dying. Luke is using a siphoning hose to fill the Tahoe’s tank with the remaining fuel in the Ford Expedition. Helaena is moving their supplies into the Tahoe, weeping softly to herself, her long ghost-pale hair flowing in the desert wind.

The racks, you think, you remember. You can see Helaena shining the flashlight into your eyes like you’re back on a living room floor in Iowa. I forgot to remind Rio to check under the racks. And now he’s gone.

You’re screaming that it’s your fault as Aemond forces you into the Tahoe, and you don’t care what anyone says to you: Luke trying to tell you that’s not true, Rhaena swearing that you’re safe now. There is a gunshot from inside the grocery store. Your heart and lungs have turned to iron like the anchor of a ship, cold and still and heavy, unmovable, unbearable. You cannot breathe through your sobs; you cannot see, cannot speak. You curl up on a seat and wish you were dead. All your life you have been compelled by a blind belief that there are better places even if you cannot imagine them, that sometimes when it feels like the world is ending the only way out is through. For the very first time, you want to give up. You want to let all the poisons of this earth seep into your bloodstream until they stop your pulse and everything goes quiet, quiet, quiet.

Aemond is pouring bottles of water over you so he can wash away the blood and sand and gore. He is searching your skin for bitemarks. People are climbing into the Tahoe and a key turns in the ignition. The wheels are spinning; shadows fall over your face through the windows as you sail beneath overpasses. You hear voices but not words. You feel Aemond’s hands on you and do not flinch away.

Someone is putting pills in your mouth and telling you to swallow. “What is it?” you ask.

“Tramadol,” Aegon says. “It will take you somewhere else.”

And it does, this poison he doesn’t know you are starving for; it erases the future and the past until you don’t exist, you never have, and this is a relief.

~~~~~~~~~~

Glimpses through fogged vision, disjointed flashes like dreams: Aemond cleaning and suturing Cregan’s arm, Helaena’s fingers threading through Ice’s shaggy grey fur, smoke from smoldering Marlboro Golds billowing from Aegon’s lips and out through an open window, coyotes watching the Tahoe pass from the shoulder of the highway, mountains and barbed wire, clouds and useless power lines, land that turns from flat and vast and vacant to steep hills thick with pine trees, so many they block out the sun.

You are dimly aware that the Tahoe is stopping frequently, long lulls to hunt for gasoline in small towns, one gallon here, three gallons there, discussions over which routes to take as Aegon scrutinizes his map. Aemond is always with you, coaxing you to take sips of Gatorade and nibbles of Ritz crackers, feeding you spoonfuls of chicken noodle soup straight from the can, and each night when you fall into numb unconsciousness in a dead stranger’s bed he sleeps on the floor in case you need him, and eventually you do. You jolt awake from a nightmare, not death but cursed immortality, a bite he missed somehow that turned you into a monster, into a murderer, your raw skin and muscles sloughing off your bones.

“You’re fine, you’re fine, look at your hands,” Aemond says, taking your wrists and holding them gently. “No bites. You’re going to be okay, I promise. Hey, hey…” He cradles your face, he pleads for you to believe him. “I swear to God, you’re going to be okay.”

“It should have been me,” you whisper in the red glow of the candlelight. “I don’t have a family that would miss me if I was gone.”

“Yes you do,” Aemond says fiercely; and it takes your drugged, horrorstruck mind a moment to realize who he means.

The next day the Tahoe runs out of gas, and you know this because Aemond wakes you with a palm resting lightly on your forehead and an apology sighed through your hair. “What’s wrong?” you murmur.

“We have to get out and walk for a while. Can you do that?”

You force yourself to sit up, blinking at him. “Where are we?”

“Kingvale, California. In the Sierra Nevada Mountains.”

“We’re going to the beach house,” you realize.

“Yeah,” Aemond says, smiling a little. “Yeah, we are. We’re going home.”

On Donner Pass Road, following in the centuries-old footsteps of doomed westward migrants, someone always walks with you as you shuffle along in a daze. Aemond tells you about California, Rhaena reads aloud from Mockingjay, Ice licks your knuckles, Aegon talks endlessly about golf and yachting even when you can’t respond. His burned leg is still bandaged, but healing, and he’s found a Converse sneaker a few sizes too big to wear on his left foot; Aemond treats and wraps his wounds each morning and night, and Rhaena observes and takes notes so she can learn how to do it.

One afternoon just north of Beale Air Force Base, Daeron sneaks a Marlboro Gold out of Aegon’s backpack when no one is watching and lights it as he lingers in the back of the group. Aegon smells the smoke immediately and whirls, runs to him, snatches the cigarette from between Daeron’s lips and stomps it into the pavement.

“You’re not going to be like me!” Aegon shouts at him in the middle of the road. “Goddammit, you’re going to be safe, and you’re going to be happy, and you’re going to know that people care about you because I’ll break your fucking arm if I ever see you smoking again. You don’t get to poison yourself. You’re going to live to be a hundred years old. Got it?”

“Got it,” Daeron echoes, startled, petrified; and then Aegon hugs him, hanging on for a very long time.

~~~~~~~~~~

It is midnight in Meridian, a miniscule town founded in the 1850s on the banks of the Sacramento River, a relic from a time when travel meant ferries and railroads and wagon trains. Here, well outside the state capital, there are no sounds except the breeze through the trees—blue oaks, sycamores, willows, white alders—and the hoots of owls. The house is old, built in the 1950s or 60s, creaking steps and a screened-in front porch where Cregan and Daeron are playing Uno while keeping watch. The moon is new and invisible. The stars are bright.

Aemond appears in the doorway of your room. You are on the edge of the bed and staring at the wallpaper, flickering candlelight and scenes of galloping horses. Aemond is not letting you have any more Tramadol. He’s also not letting anyone load your Beretta, although you saw a box of 9mm bullets in Helaena’s burlap messenger bag. Maybe he’s worried you’ll try to shoot yourself. Maybe he’s not too far off.

He closes the door, crosses the room, and sits down on the bed beside you. In the firelit quiet, Aemond says: “I’m so sorry. I don’t know how to help you.”

“I can’t stay here. Take me somewhere else.”

At first, he doesn’t understand what you mean. Then you reach for him—for a life raft, for something to tether you to the earth—and the lines of your palm press against his scar, flesh he stitched back together himself, proof he can heal people, a reminder of how temporary any of you could be. Aemond lays his hand over yours and closes his eye, holding you there against his face, feeling your warmth and your forgiveness, your need to be close to him in a way that is suddenly so uncomplicated. There is no fear left in you. Perhaps there’s nothing left at all.

Aemond kisses you, and there are blooms of golden light through your darkness like what you call lightning bugs and he says are fireflies. You are entangled on the bed together, and all the sounds still ricocheting in your memory—screams, gunshots, bloodlust, hunger, anarchy—fade until they cease to exist. He is touching you, and you can feel lost pieces of yourself returning to you like rain soaking through parched earth, faith and resolve and desire. And now, and now…

Now Aemond is taking you far, far, far away, to bottomless blue water you can drown in, to where Diego Garcia lies marooned in the middle of the Indian Ocean, to the sun-glinting waves off the coasts of Chinhae, Corpus Christi, Key West, the Horn of Africa. He is between your thighs, and you want him through the pain, a razor-sharp fullness that seems so immaterial and so fleeting; and you lie to him over and over again because if he knows he’s hurting you he’ll stop, and in this world one cannot assume there will be second chances. Aemond stills once he’s inside you, giving you time to adjust but also overwhelmed by the intensity of it, his hands in your hair and trembling all over, kissing your face as the pain bleeds away and leaves a shade of craving you’ve never felt before, something deep and indistinct, something intangible like a spell or a myth. You move first, rolling your hips with a slow, cautious rhythm, and only then does Aemond follow you. It’s in his voice, in the reverence of his hands, in his iris like a clear secretless sky; you have taken him far away too.

“I love you,” Aemond says afterwards as his head rests on your belly, your fingers tangled in his damp hair and your skull hushed like calm seas. “And I can’t pretend I don’t anymore.”

“Good. I wouldn’t want you to.”

And in the morning, there is something different about the world: a hopefulness that makes you want to wake up, a radiance like moonlight on the wave crests of the Indian Ocean.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x y/n #aemond x reader

259 notes · View notes

allwaswell16 · 5 months ago

Text

A One Direction fic rec of fics where the main pairing is versatile in bed and both top/bottom (or as we say in this fandom they kind of share that really) as requested in this ask. If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments for the writers! You can find my other fic recs here. Happy reading!

- Louis/Harry -

�� And Then a Bit by @infinitelymint

(E, 158k, canon) Harry and Louis fake a relationship for publicity. Eventually it becomes a lot less fake and a lot more real.

🔄 Like a Bullet in the Dark by Vurdoc

(E, 99k, Will & Kate au) Prince Harold Edward Styles Lancaster is second in line to the throne of Great Britain. He is also your average Uni student- or he tries to be, anyway.

🔄 Have Love, Will Travel by @kingsofeverything

(E, 97k, road trip) Rather than spend the summer working at their desks, Louis and Harry are given the opportunity to crisscross the country together in a tiny camper, filming their adventures for a YouTube series.

🔄 Been Together Since Way Back When by @alivingfire

(E, 95k, established relationship) the painfully realistic college au where everyone's poor, lovesick, tired of school, terrified of the future, and still having the greatest times of their lives.

🔄 taste on my tongue by bethaboo / @bethaboolou

(E, 77k, reality tv) Take Louis. Take Harry. Add in a heaping cup of sexual tension. Another cup of delicious (and not so delicious) food. A smidgen of competitive spirit. A dash of hopes and dreams. And you get Kitchen Wars, a TV show that promises to be the must-watch event of the fall.

🔄 Now you know me (for your eyes only) by nadinecestmoi

(E, 77k, famous/famous) harry clearly had someone in mind when he wrote the song so the last day of recording comes and louis’ like “thanks for having me on the song” and harry just shrugs and is like “well it just seemed fitting bc the song is about you”

🔄 After Dark, After Light by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird

(E, 71k, historical) In an attempt to garner extra protection for his clan, Harry sets out to mend his father's past wrongs and ally with their neighbors to the west, Clan Sutherland. Louis Tomlinson is the mysterious commander of the Sutherland army sent back with Harry on orders from his laird to help shore up Clan Edwards' defenses.

🔄 Teach me how to love by @perfectdagger

(E, 70k, fwb) The one in which Harry is bad at sex and Louis spreads it all over town and to make up for it, decides to help him with no agenda of getting anything from it, but in the end, he ends up getting more than he bargained for.

🔄 Suddenly Last Summer by @disgruntledkittenface

(E, 44k, mystery) Louis is bored, rich and lonely. He has no reason to expect that this summer in the Hamptons with his friends will be different from any other – until he meets Harry.

🔄 best kind of bad something by wildestdreams / @thelavendrhaze

(E, 40k, established relationship) Louis is the town troublemaker and everyone hates him except for Harry.

🔄 Every Snowflake Is Different (Just Like You) by @hellolovers13

(E, 20k, only one bed) Turns out, getting snowed in with your not quite One-Night Stand wasn’t actually that bad.But the snow wouldn’t last forever. Was there a chance for love even after the snow had melted?

🔄 Can I just be the same? by Star_Henderson / @tommosgun *

(M, 17k, vampire) Harry is a two hundred year old Vampire with no one in the whole world and Louis is the kind hearted stranger who comes into Harry's life bringing something that Harry had missed. Love. But Harry is forever running, can Louis be the one to change all that?

🔄 I Still Find You Lovely by @angelichl

(M, 16k, one night stand) In which Harry goes to a bar in search of a bloke with an air-conditioned flat.

🔄 Salt and the Appetite by @sadaveniren

(E, 14k, bdsm) Harry, a popular BDSM blogger, writes a negative review about Louis’ club. Louis wants to have a chance to make it up to him.

🔄 getting yourself wet for me by me_her_themoon / @dreamersdivin-headfirst

(E, 10k, secret relationship) frat boys take on watersports

🔄 Just For Me by iwillpaintasongforlou

(E, 9k, Posh/Becks au) Harry is a supermodel with a fake boyfriend. Louis is the captain and star forward of Manchester United with a fake girlfriend. They should have no problem having a completely platonic lunch between friends.

🔄 Going Green (so fucking green) by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright *

(E, 5k, pwp) Harry just really loves being used, and Louis really loves Harry. Who is he to deny him? Or: Reduce, Reuse, Recycle but make it BDSM

🔄 Switching the positions for you by 28sunflowers / @vintageumbroshirt

(E, 4k, omega Louis) the omegaverse AU where they decide to try a completely new position in bed

🔄 From the Dining Table by @littleroverlouis *

(E, 3k, established relationship) Harry's thirtieth birthday hasn't gone as expected. Things start looking up from the dining table.

🔄 Eager To Please by @enchantedlandcoffee *

(E, 1k, pwp) "Ah, ah." Louis tsked disapprovingly, the younger boy's actions immediately halting. "You want to be a good boy for your Daddy, don't you?"

- Rare Pairs -

🔄 honey, we should run away by narryblossom

(M, 18k, Niall/Harry) It’s… kind of nice, actually. But being a nice house doesn’t take away the sting of what Harry’s done or what he’s asking Niall to give up by moving there.

#weeklyficrec #1dficvillage #1dsquad #hlcreators #hljournal #trackinghome #trackinghappily #hltracks

128 notes · View notes

komsomolka · 1 month ago

Text

Nasrallah was killed because he was unrelenting in his support for Palestine. Unlike every other Arab leader, Nasrallah had led the fight against Israel twice, which led to its defeat: first, when Israel was forced to withdraw from Lebanon in 2000 and second when Israel could not vanquish Hezbollah in 2006. The man who defeated Israel was finally killed on September 27, 2024, along with thousands of his fellow Lebanese. [...]

In the Lebanese coastal city of Sur (Tyre), unknown people bombed a number of restaurants that serve alcohol in late 2012. I went down to talk to some of the owners of these restaurants and of a brewery, all of whom told me that they had been visited by people from Hezbollah who offered to pay for the damages even though the attacks were not by their members. Nasrallah had said that though he opposed the consumption of alcohol, he did not believe that Lebanese society must conform to the social views of any group but should learn to tolerate the mores of each other.

For all the talk of Nasrallah and antisemitism, it would be worth considering that it was Hezbollah under Nasrallah that helped the reconstruction of Beirut’s Maghen Abraham Synagogue. “[It] is a religious place of worship,” Nasrallah said, “and its restoration is welcome,” stated Arab News. It is this attitude that partly led to Nasrallah telling Julian Assange during a discussion about Palestine in 2012 that “the only solution is the establishment of one state—one state on the land on Palestine in which the Muslims and the Jews and the Christians live in peace in a democratic state. Any other solution will simply not be viable, and it won’t be sustained.”

When Israel, with US support, began its bombardment of Lebanon in 2006, it appeared certain that Hezbollah would be demolished. But it withstood the attack and counterattacked Israel. Years earlier, friends in the Arab states would ask me, “Why can’t we produce a Hugo Chávez?” meaning why could they not have a leader who would stand up against the interference of the West and the occupation of the Palestinians by Israel. During the 2006 war, these same people began to say that Nasrallah was their Chávez, that he was the incarnation of Gamal Abdel Nasser. The fact that Hezbollah was not destroyed and was able to stand up for itself proved to large sections of the Arab world that Israel lost that war.

The victory is partly attributed to Nasrallah’s ability to convert Hezbollah from a military force into an integral part of the “resistance society” (mujtama’ al-muqawama) in large parts of Lebanon; this resistance society shaped the worldview of the villages of southern Lebanon and the Bekaa Valley, where they committed themselves to the long-term struggle to end the Israeli occupation of Palestine and the Israeli interventions in southern Lebanon. It is this resistance community that defines Hezbollah’s endurance rather than the thousands of missiles it has hidden away in tunnels across Lebanon’s southern region. The Israelis tried to kill Nasrallah many times during and after 2006 but did not succeed. He would often talk about how one of his speeches was his last since it was unclear when the Israelis might succeed.

The assassination of Nasrallah produced a sense of shock across Lebanon because a view had been growing that he could not be killed. But Nasrallah was a man, and human beings die one way or the other. Robert Fisk asked him to explain what it meant to prepare for martyrdom, according to a 2001 article by him. “Imagine you are in a sauna,” Nasrallah said. “It is very hot but you know that in the next room there is air conditioning, an armchair, classical music, and a cocktail.” That would have been his attitude when the Israeli bombs landed.

#lebanon #i am still so upset :(

84 notes · View notes

adastra-sf · 6 months ago

Text

Climate change-driven heatwaves threaten millions

Extreme record-breaking heat leads to severe crises across the world.

Already in 2024, from Israel, Palestine, Lebanon, and Syria in the West; to Myanmar, Thailand, Vietnam, China, and the Philippines in the East; large regions of Asia are experiencing temperatures well above 40°C (104°F) for days on end.

The heatwave has been particularly difficult for people living in refugee camps and informal housing, as well as for unhoused people and outdoor workers.

Using the Heat Index Calculator, at that temperature and a relative humidity of 50%, residents see a heat index of 55°C (131°F) - a temperature level humans cannot long survive:

In February, the southern coastal zone of West Africa also experienced abnormal early-season heat. A combination of high temperatures and humid air resulted in average heat index values of about 50°C (122°F) - the danger level, associated with a high risk of heat cramps and heat exhaustion.

Locally, temperatures entered the extreme danger level associated with high risk of heat stroke, with values up to 60°C (140°F):

Even here at Ad Astra's HQ in Kansas, last summer we saw several days with high temperatures of 102°F (39°C) at 57% humidity, resulting in a heat index of 133°F (56°C):

Of course, the major difference in survivability in Kansas versus some of the places suffering extreme heat right now is that air-conditioning abounds here. Those who live somewhere that faces extreme heat but can escape it indoors are a lot more likely to survive, but a person who lives somewhere without such life-saving gear faces not just discomfort, but heat stroke and even death.

This includes unhoused and poor people here in the wealthier parts of the world, who often do not have access to indoor refuge from the heat.

About 15% of US residents live below the poverty line. Many low-wage earners work outside in construction or landscaping, exposed to the ravages of heat. Many do not own an air conditioner, and those who do might need to budget their body's recovery from heat against cost to purchase and run cooling equipment. Because heat stress is cumulative, when they go to work the next day, they’re more likely to suffer from heat illness.

Bad as that is, for those living on the street, heatwaves are merciless killers. Around the country, heat contributes to some 1,500 deaths annually, and advocates estimate about half of those people are homeless. In general, unhoused people are 200 times more likely to die from heat-related causes than sheltered individuals.

For example, in 2022, a record 425 people died from heat in the greater Phoenix metro area. Of the 320 deaths for which the victim’s living situation is known, more than half (178) were homeless. In 2023, Texans experienced the hottest summer since 2011, with an average temperature of 85.3°F (30°C) degrees between June and the end of August. Some cities in Texas experienced more than 40 days of 100°F (38°C) or higher weather. This extreme heat led to 334 heat-related deaths, the highest number in Texas history and twice as many as in 2011.

The Pacific Northwest of Canada and the USA suffered an extreme heat event in June, 2021, during which 619 people died. Many locations broke all-time temperature records by more than 5°C, with a new record-high temperature of 49.6°C (121°F). This is a region ill-suited to such weather, and despite having relatively high wealth compared to much of the world, many homes and businesses there do not have air-conditioning due to a history of much lower temperatures.

Heatwaves are arguably the deadliest type of extreme weather event because of their wide impact. While heatwave death tolls are often underreported, hundreds of deaths from the February heatwave were reported in the affected countries, including Bangladesh, India, Thailand, Myanmar, Cambodia, and the Philippines.

Extreme heat also has a powerful impact on agriculture, causing crop damage and reduced yields. It also impacts education, with holidays having to be extended and schools closing, affecting millions of students - in Delhi, India, schools shut early this week for summer when temperatures soared to 47°C (117°F) at dangerous humidity levels:

At 70°C (157°F !), humans simply cannot function and face imminent death, especially when humidity is high. This is the notion of "heat index," a derivative of "wet-bulb temperature."

Though now mostly calculated using heat and humidity readings, wet-bulb temperature was originally measured by putting a wet cloth over a thermometer and exposing it to the air.

This allowed it to measure how quickly the water evaporated off the cloth, representing sweat evaporating off skin.

The theorized human survival limit has long been 35°C (95°F) wet-bulb temperature, based on 35°C dry heat at 100% humidity - or 46°C (115°F) at 50% humidity. To test this limit, researchers at Pennsylvania State University measured the core temperatures of young, healthy people inside a heat chamber.

They found that participants reached their "critical environmental limit" - when their body could not stop the core temperature from continuing to rise – at 30.6°C wet bulb temperature, well below what was previously theorized. That web-bulb temperature parallels a 47°C (117°F) heat index.

The team estimates that it takes between 5-7 hours before such conditions reach "really, really dangerous core temperatures."

youtube

On March 5, 2024, Hong Kong saw temperatures of 27°C (80°F) with 100% humidity, which results in a heat index of 32.2°C (90°F) - seemingly not so bad until considering it's higher than the critical wet-bulb temperature. Also, if you watch the video, imagine the long-term effects of water accumulating in residences, such as dangerous mold.

We are witnessing the effects of climate change right now, all around the world, and rising temperatures are just the most-obvious (what we used to call "global warming"). Many, many other side-effects of climate change are beginning to plague us or headed our way soon, and will affect us all.

Unfortunately, those most affected - and those being hit the hardest right now - are people most vulnerable to heatwaves. With climate crises increasing in both intensity and frequency, and poverty at dangerous levels, we face a rapidly rising, worldwide crisis.

We must recognize the climate crisis as an international emergency and treat it as such. So much time, creative energy, resources, and life is wasted in war and the pursuit of profit or power - consider how much good could come from re-allocating those resources to ensuring a future for Earthlings, instead.

(Expect to see a "Science into Fiction" workshop on climate change coming soon - SF writers have a particular responsibility to address such important topics of change and global consequence.)

#climate crisis #climate change #global warming #heatwaves #poverty and homelessness #climate emergency #in response to asks for a post on this topic #stay tuned for posts on other crises arising from climate change

105 notes · View notes

cupidb · 11 months ago

Text

Guess who woke up from the dead… haha 😅

- The Intruder

Vampire!Yunho x Fem!Vampire!Reader

☆Genre: Fluff??/Smut (18+ content, MDNI!)

☆Summary: Yunho finds a badly wounded vampire in his territory and takes her home.

Enjoy!

Yunho was stalking the woodland. His domain was peaceful, and the moon was full. He rushed down the trails, his fangs protruding and his gaze acute in the dim light. He wasn't starving. He was simply bored.

He was the clan's area enforcer, and it was his responsibility to patrol at night, check recurring problem sites, and ensure that violators in their territory were apprehended and dealt with.

He would be regarded as gigantic inhuman proportions. In human terms, he was 6ft 2 tall. Others might conceal their fangs and stroll amongst humans in the dead of night. Yunho, not so. His skin was as white as the moon and glowed with the same ethereal radiance. His eyes were bronze in color. He could never stroll among others. He was far too beautiful.

He could smell something. It was an intruder. He moved lower to the ground. Moving on foot. Moving slowly. Unusual and risky. The intruder wouldn't be hard to find. Why would a rival vampire be in his territory, moving slowly on foot, unless something was wrong.

He could only detect one scent. A vampire who was alone was usually a vampire who was at risk. Vampires felt that there was safety in numbers. Yunho was the only one who preferred to walk by himself. He clenched his fists and braced himself for the fight. He sniffed the track once more before heading north through the woodland towards the lake.

He noticed it when he broke through the woods and entered the clearing. The trespasser. It was little, curled up, and smelled strongly of dread and hunger. Yunho was nearly certain he wouldn't have to fight tonight, but he kept his guard up nevertheless. Being careful paid off.

He approached it cautiously. As Yunho neared, it groaned and grabbed itself, its breath coming in short bursts and its eyes wide open. "I'm no intruder." It cried in pain. "Check with Hui. My maker was from this clan." That altered everything. Yunho became concerned at this point. He scooped up the small being. She weighed next to nothing.

"Why are you here?" Yunho asked quietly as he headed west to a safe place. The voice that came out was small and strained. "My maker. Did the wrong thing. They killed him. I had to escape." Yunho didn't want to know anymore. Vampires were unfortunately intrinsically tied to the actions and whims of their maker. She would have had no choice but to follow the maker's instructions. It must have been terrible for her to run and end up in this condition.

Yunho went swiftly through the night air, the darkness relaxing, his cold skin soothing the nearly lifeless creature in his arms. Vampires required very little to live. Vampires enjoy blood, darkness, and the company of other vampires. He had no choice but to keep her alive. Just five minutes more. He yanked her shirt buttons open and shoved the small vampire into his skin. Her breathing instantly slowed. Yunho exhaled a sigh of relief and continued walking.

"Mingi. Open up." He yelled as he pounded on the old farmhouse's door. When the human opened the door and saw the gigantic vampire clutching the tiny lifeless creature in his arms, his eyes widened in terror. "No time to explain." He shoved the human aside and marched into his living room, where he placed the vampire on the couch.

"Mingi. Come here." Yunho commanded. His bronze eyes burned with power as the human followed his instruction. He silently commanded the human, who was strong and bursting with vitality, to sit on the floor beside the couch.

She was almost gone. She was too weak to bite or suck. Yunho was well aware that he would have to feed her. He held Mingi's wrist tightly in his huge hand. As the vampire enforcer bit down and drank, filling his mouth with the delicious warm liquid, the human breathed deeply. He leaned over the dying vampire on the couch, pressing their lips firmly together. He opened his mouth and let the life fluid in his mouth run into the other's mouth. He held the reviving kiss for the fluids to transfer. It tasted fantastic. Mingi has recently been eating well.

He interrupted the kiss and wiped his lips with the back of his pale palm, leaving a red smear. "What happened to her?" When Yunho glared at him while disregarding his question, Mingi immediately regretted asking.

Mingi's veins were sucked again and transmitted to the little vampire. Yunho massaged their h/c hair and felt her revive as the second mouthful flowed into the other. She was going to live.

He drank another deep, rich swallow and passed it to the small vampire. The third bite was enough to wake her up. She groaned as Yunho peered over her as she recovered awareness and her sensation of pain.

"I need to see." Yunho said as he ripped her shirt open. Deep scrapes disfigured the flawless s/c chest and stomach, which were already exhibiting indications of infection. Yunho inhaled deeply at the sight before him. Inside his pants, his erection was already growing. He only fucked humans because he needed to be in power, and other vampires weren't typically willing to be completely dominated. But this one was a little different.

"Who are you?" Yunho inquired as the smaller one became lively. "My maker named me Moon. But he's gone now. "I'll go with Y/N."

"I can heal you Y/N." Yunho spoke into the vampire's ear, making her quiver at the feeling of his breath on her skin. He stroked the deep gashes on her chest with his hands. He stabbed his thumb with a fang and delicately wiped his blood into the cuts. Y/N writhed in pain as she let the massive vampire hovering over her perform his healing ritual.

Yunho sucked another mouthful of Mingi's blood and pressed his lips against Y/N's. Honestly, the small vampire was restored enough that she could bite and suck for herself, but Yunho was having too much fun with this.

His tongue followed the blood into Y/N's mouth this time, and the other welcomed it in. She pushed back with her own, and the taste of Mingi's blood lingered between them. Yunho licked her wounds as he lowered his mouth down her neck to her chest. His healing saliva instantly began to close the wounds and relieve Y/N's discomfort.

Y/N finally felt her head clear. The world came to a halt as life returned to her. Yunho's relief from her wounds was pleasant, and she relaxed as she began to appreciate the feel of Yunho's thick rough tongue on her body. She felt better every time a wound healed. Her writhing, groaning misery gradually turned to pleasure as she relished the sensation of the massive vampire looming over her.

"Let me thank you." The h/c vampire reached down and started unbuttoning Yunho's pants. Yunho quickly assessed the situation and determined that he would approve it. He had already become hard, so why not take advantage of it? As the other withdrew his erection from his pants and began to work it with her hand, he proceeded to lick at the small vampire's wounds.

Mingi muttered something about privacy and turned to walk away, but Yunho grabbed his wrist and stopped him. "We're not done with you yet." As the vampire underneath him pumped his erection faster, he muttered and sucked another mouthful from his wrist.

He leaned in and gave Y/N another mouthful of Mingi's blood, this time with his tongue, the thick red liquid coating their lips, teeth, and tongues.

As life surged back into Y/N's body, she felt herself resurrect. She had been so close to death when she was rescued by this huge imposing being whose eyes glowed with their fire.

"Can I drink from your human?" She asked quietly and politely as she continued to jerk him off. "If you say yes I'll let you fuck me." She added. Yunho smirked before nodding. She released her hold on his erection.

She grabbed Mingi roughly and went for his inner elbow, moaning as she bit down, her eyes closed as she sucked hard causing a low whimper to escape him. Just like his blood, she drank the sound up. She released the frightened human and gave him a flirty wink as she turned her attention back to Yunho, not catching the possessive glint in his eyes.

"He's delicious!" Y/N grinned. She was alive again.

"I know." Yunho smirked and barely noticed as the terrified but flustered human took off out of the room. "Now give me what you promised." He tore at the small vampire's muddy trousers and smirked again at the sight before him when they hit the floor.

With her painfully thin body and glittering e/c eyes, this petite yet powerful creature was truly beautiful. Yunho was bored with fucking Mingi. He sought the thrill of battling another creature as powerful and wild as he was.

He delighted in running his hands over the smaller's chest. He hadn't felt another vampire under him in a long time. It was unbelievably sensual. He crushed his lips on hers and forced his tongue inside. He rubbed it against Y/N's newly protruding fangs. He could tell she was excited as well.

Yunho ran his fangs lightly down the s/c flesh of Y/N's neck, causing her to moan beneath him. His manhood rubbed onto the small vampire's exposed skin. Y/N got the clue and started jerking him off again.

"Stop. Let me inside you." Yunho commanded and the smaller conceded. She knew she had to do what the other wanted. He was twice her size and could easily destroy her.

Y/N opened her legs and allowed Yunho to feel for her entrance. It was tight but she would enjoy the pain.

"Go straight in." Y/N had taken a drink from his human. She had requested a favor, and now it was her turn to repay him. He pulled her knees up and she winced when she felt Yunho’s erection push inside her. The pain was nearly as energizing as the blood.

But she felt alive once more. She hadn't felt anyone other than her maker inside her in a long time. Her maker had been selfish, possessive, and jealous, and now that he was gone, Y/N was enjoying the first act of her newfound freedom. "Ah- More" She whined as she clutched Yunho's back. She desired to feel him deep within.

Yunho was accustomed to the delicacy of humans. He had forgotten what it was like to sink himself deep within another vampire without hesitation or reservation. He yanked almost all the way out, snarled deep inside his chest, and pushed in deeply, causing her to softly whimper. As Yunho found a rhythm and began to pound against her, Y/N bucked beneath him, her hips rising to meet the violent thrusts.

He didn't dare say it out loud but he loved the size difference and how huge he looked compared to her. It made him feel even more powerful in the moment. Looking down at where their hips meet he increases his speed watching how well she takes him.

It felt good. Too good. His orgasm built quickly and he found himself trying to hold on. Her moans and whimpers weren't making it easy for him either. If it was a human he wouldn't care, he would just finish and pull out and leave. But another vampire deserves respect and pleasure at the least.

Y/N's body responded to the belly full of blood and her body full of the bigger vampire. She luxuriated in the hedonistic pleasures of delicious food and a good fucking. She knew she had made the right decision to come back to her maker's original territory. She wondered if all the vampires around here were so tall and beautiful. She thrust her hips up to meet Yunho’s driving down into her earning a low moan from him.

She could see him clinging on, not wanting to be first, and was touched that the other vampire thought of her in that way. She wouldn't have to hold on for long. Yunho filled every inch of her body, and she was overdue for an orgasm. As she got closer, her insides twisted, and she came in hard, her fangs out in bliss, her nails and fangs dragging down Yunho's beautiful glowing skin.

Yunho noticed the small vampire beneath him arch and twist and ultimately moan in delight. Yunho's exposed skin was riddled with sharp nails and teeth. It was incredible. He allowed himself to climax, and his thrusts became more chaotic as he snarled deeper, beat harder, and eventually groaned. As his hips rode into the small body under him, he bit down hard on

Y/N's neck. Both catch their breath before helping the other stand up.

It wasn't until Yunho got off and they both started dressing that they noticed Mingi, horror on his face, motionless next to the couch. After what he had just witnessed, he was locked in a bizarre limbo halfway between shock and arousal.

"Still hungry?" Yunho questioned, ignoring the other male. Y/N raised her head. "No, thank you. I'm feeling great right now." He nodded at her response.

The moon was still full when they walked away from the house. "What are you going to do now?" Yunho inquired. "Not sure." She responded. "I'll have to go to Hui and ask for work and a place to stay."

Yunho couldn't believe what she was saying and scoffed, rolling his eyes. He smiled at her as he turned to face her. "You can stay with me."

"Really?" The small vampire looked up at the big one with big grateful eyes.

"Sure, why not? He'll probably assign you to me anyway. Everyone else is already partnered up, and you appear to be determined. I need someone to assist with the patrol."

Not waiting for an answer, Yunho began to sprint as the moon descended lower in the sky. He turned his head to see Y/N, who had fully recovered and was following him through the woodland. He smiled to himself and accelerated his pace, but Y/N kept up. His boredom could be coming to an end. Finally, someone was able to keep up with him.

since I'm alive again I will reopen my request box, yay! feel free to request!

#jeong yunho #yunho #yunho smut #ateez yunho #ateez #ateez fic #yunho x reader #yunho fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez mingi #song mingi #reader is a simp #yunho fluff #kpop smut #smut #yolo

221 notes · View notes

scotianostra · 9 months ago

Text

On March 3rd 1883 three hundred inhabitants of the remote Shetland island of Foula were on the point of starvation as the first supply boat of the year reached the stormbound community.

Foula, often described as the "Edge Of The World" is our most remote inhabited island. It is situated in the Atlantic Ocean approximately 20 miles to the west of the Shetland mainland. It is an island of crofting townships, breath-taking sheer cliff drops, and a wealth of wild flowers and wildlife.

Over a century ago, in 1881, Foula had a population of 267, mostly employed in fishing...at the last census in 2001 that figure had dropped to just 38.

On March 3rd 1883 the Shetland Times published this;

The Weather and Mails – Foula

Nine weeks have now expired since our last mail was landed, and all our resources are almost exhausted. Sugar and tobacco have been all done for more than a fortnight, and tea, coffee, etc, are now done also. Those who had a little meal to spare have helped those who had none, a thing often done in Foula, but if the weather does not moderate we will soon be all alike. The boat has been in readiness now for some time to go to Walls for supplies, and as the weather has become a little more moderate today they are going to make a start, so we hope that they may get safe through, and a chance to return again soon. But we doubt if the mail boat will be able to cross today yet, as the wind still inclines to the westward.

There isn’t much more than this about their plight, but it seems that same day they breathed a sigh of relief as a boat must have made it to Mainland and back successfully.

Today crofting as well as fishing are the main activities, half the population living at Hametoun in the south east and the remainder to be found at Ham near Ham Voe on the east coast. The island is not connected to any mainland electricity grid system. In 1987 a community electricity scheme was constructed, comprising a 3.3kV island grid which linked diesel generators, a wind turbine and a hydroelectricity scheme to the island’s properties. This scheme gradually fell into disrepair and has undergone a major refurbishment, funded primarily through grants.

Before refurbishment, the entire island's power was supplied by one of the two diesel generators which operated between approximately 7.20am and 00.30am. That’s not to say they were without power for the, just under 7 hours the generator is off, a battery/inverter system was installed between 2006 and January 2007, a solar charging array helps top up the batteries as well . The system was fully commissioned at the beginning of March 2007 and already the islanders not only have continuous power ( instead of the previous 17 hours per day) but are noticing considerable savings in diesel fuel use. Since diesel has to be shipped in by ferry (and often the weather is too bad for the ferry to run for up to 3 weeks on end) this of huge value.

An interesting feature of the island's people is that they still observe the old Julian calendar, replaced in 1752 in Britain by the present Gregorian system which deleted 11 days from the year. Remote areas of the country kept to the old calendar, adding an extra day in 1800, which was a leap year, and some parts of Shetland continued to observe festivals 12 days after the dates in the new calendar. The most remote areas kept to the old calendar longest, and the people of Foula still celebrate Christmas on 6 January and New Year's Day on 13 January

Travel to the island is by sea or air and is completely dependent on suitable weather conditions.

A wee bit more, and a short video can be found at the link below.

#scotland #scottish #history #shetland

101 notes · View notes

westendair · 7 months ago

Text

Air Conditioning Installation Services - West End Air Conditioning

You require the assistance of a reliable staff if you're ready to start the procedure of installing a New Air Conditioning Installation Service unit. The experts at West End Air Conditioning will make sure your new AC meets all of your needs, from selecting your unit to having it installed. We’ll make sure that your AC system matches your needs. West End Air Conditioning serves homes and businesses in South Florida with leading air conditioning services. Our approach to AC services centers around exceptional customer service. Here, your needs are our top priority, and our team of skilled technicians will work to exceed your expectations.

#West End Air Conditioning

1 note · View note

allthebrazilianpolitics · 1 year ago

Text

"THERE'S NO MENTAL HEALTH UNDER BOMBING AND COLONIAL OCCUPATION": Open letter from Brazilian psychology associations calling for an end to the violence against the Palestinian people

We call on all people, the international community, especially mental health professionals, to work towards a non-violent and definitive solution to the ongoing conflict, to take concrete actions for an immediate ceasefire in the area, and for the ending of the brutal colonialism in place. We also emphasize the importance of opening the borders to humanitarian aid for the Palestinian people.

In these last days, Israel’s brutal and cruel bombing in the Gaza Strip – a territory that has been besieged by Israel for the last 17 years – has resulted in the deaths of more than 8,000 Palestinian (including more than 3,400 children), and more than 20,000 injured people. Alongside, millions of people have been forcibly displaced and deprived of basic needs (PRCS, 2023)[1].

However, the figures fail to represent the current reality, as the death toll and injuries rise second by second.Israeli air strikes destroyed more than half of Palestinian residences, besides deliberate attacks on hospitals, schools and universities, erupting a massive humanitarian crisis.

We also condemn and deplore the violence against Israeli civilians, victims of Hamas’ violent retaliation, especially because it has affected innocent people, many of whom are still kidnapped.

Recent statements released by an official representative of the Israeli governmentrefered to Palestinian people as “human animals”[2]. Accordingly, the entire Gaza population be held like hostages, through a complete blockade of food, water, electricity, fuel and medicines. Israel very recently blocked access to internet signals, isolating Gaza from the rest of world. (MSF, 2023)[3]

The collective punishing of innocent people constitutes a war crime and, hence, must be strongly condemned. (ICRC, 2022).[4] We consider that Israeli government pronouncements have amplified the racist ideology, relying on international impunity and compliance. Xenophobia reinforcement turns migrants, refugees and stateless people – not just Palestinians – the main victims of the dehumanising discourse.

It’s crucial to keep an eye on what’s going on in Gaza: 2.2 million people – most of whom were already displaced migrants from historic Palestinian territories irregularly occupied by Israel – have been living in an open-air prison for 17 years[5]. Israel determines what comes in and out of Gaza: people, energy, food, medicine, fuel and humanitarian aid. Whole families have their homes destroyed by bombings, children are born and die surrounded by walls, and their national identity and existence as a people have been denied for decades.

The systematic ethnic cleansing of a walls-confined population living under a military siege by air, land and sea is undoubtedly a horrendous crime.. The colonial measure imposed on this population, not only in Gaza but also in the West Bank and other parts of historic Palestine, has already produced 6.1 million Palestinian refugees (UNRWA, 2023)[6].

While witnessing the unacceptable thousands of deaths, we note with concern the harassment and attempt to silence supports of Palestinian rights. Under any circumstance, it should be acceptable to persecute those who denounce the existence of stateless people living in apartheid conditions.

These claims are incontestable. The UN Human Rights Council 2022[7] presented a report pointing out 3 essential elements: Palestine is strictly an open-air prison, the largest prison in the world; there is an apartheid regime throughout Palestine; and some aspects of everyday life in Gaza share similarities to a concentration camp. None of this began on the 7th of October 2023. There is nothing new except for the intensification of war propaganda against the Palestinian people. That can be named as Media Genocide, which is the intentional elimination of a people through war propaganda and, the circulation of false news and narratives.

The Palestinian struggle is also a struggle to be waged in Brazil.. We perceive the Palestinian tragedy as deeply connected to the war against the poor, Black people and traditional communities in our country. The same logic of racial and ethnic supremacy relies on Brazilian whiteness, which justifies police incursions into favelas systematically murdering Black people including children, teenagers and young people. It is important to emphasise that there are numerous agreements between the Brazilian security forces and the Israeli armed forces, with Brazil being one of the biggest markets of Israel’s arms industry[8]. Israeli ammunition finds Black and peripheral Brazilian bodies.

The supremacist rhetoric of brutalisation and dehumanisation has historically been denounced by the Black movement in Brazil, for example in the context of the former South African apartheid regime and also in international solidarity actions for the Palestinian people. Black liberation movements have also experienced the ideological condemnation of their freedom efforts, which were labelled under the rubric of “terrorists”. The dehumanisation of Black people is also the dehumanisation of the Arab people, a violence consolidated by the whiteness global alliance and its genocide and ethnocide practice.

THE SOCIAL COMMITMENT OF PSYCHOLOGY IN DEFENSE OF THE PALESTINIAN PEOPLE

We, as psychologists committed to every human life’s dignity, guided by the Fundamental Principles of our Ethic Code, urge for a radical commitment to the anti-racist and anti-genocide struggle, which is connected to the ethical and political duty of psychology.

We call on our professional category and psychology students to bravely tackle this issue affecting the whole world. A call to fulfill our ethical duty to uphold human dignity, by keeping a critical distance from war propaganda and demanding humane and dignified relations throughout all the ongoing situations.

Almost every child or teenager in Gaza has been born in a state of segregation, a situation that combined with constant attacks, and the side effects of the siege and occupation has been triggering severe psychological distress and psychiatric disorders[9]. The colonial and apartheid regime imposed on Palestinians, described in six reports released by United Nations and recognised by several humanitarian organizations, including Amnesty International, are social determinants of mental health deterioration.[10].

Therefore, a historical analysis of the Israeli occupation in Palestine, the Nakba effects and the 1948 catastrophe is essential. Psychology, as a science and a profession, must reject superficial or improper analyses in this sense. We criticize institutions and associations in the mental health field whose statements endorse the dehumanising rhetoric worldwide spread. For instance, the APA declaration[11] neglected the Palestinian historical context, disregardingthe violence imposed on the besieged Gaza population. There is no mention of the terrible bombing of the small enclave [a territory or part of a territory surrounded by another state] affecting Palestinians in an incomparable way to Israelis. We consider that these statements[12] ignore contingencies such as precarious mental health, besides amplifying the collective trauma resulting from decades of oppression, continuous violence, humiliation and injustice inflicted by Israel’s occupation.

Politics and mental health cannot be dichotomised. One cannot analyse the occupation of Palestine without examining the strategies of dehumanisation, and the stripping of dignity and life of the Palestinian people.

The dehumanisation of Palestinian lives – whether in deeds or speeches – normalises Palestinian suffering, as if it was natural, obvious and impossible to stop. Palestinians have been vocalising their suffering for decades and pleading for visibility to the international community. They do so in countless non-violent ways: resisting every minute, every second, to avoid disappearing. They produce art, music, and poetry. They cultivate and care for their original land and territory.

Until we see a Palestine free of Israeli colonial domination, no number of bombs will extinguish the innate desire to live with dignity. In this way, the Palestinian resistance is incurable, quoting Mahmoud Darwish.

As psychologists, we understand and accept the historic call to stand alongside the Palestinian people. The complicity with mass genocide, ethnic cleansing and the murder of children in particular, shall not be in our name.

We condemn the system of segregation, discrimination and collective punishment imposed on Palestine. There is an urgent need to build peace, which only comes through the consolidation of the Palestinian State and establishing a regime that respects the universal rights of all those who live in the region.

The Palestinian people – like all people in their self-determination – need to be able to exist beyond the imposed walls, the barbed wires, the refugee camps and all the dehumanisation: they need to be able to make their contribution to the beautiful story, yet to be built, of collective emancipation and the development of the humankind.

Link to the letter.

Link if you wish to sign it.

#palestine #israel #gaza #politics #brazil #psychology #brazilian politics #israeli politics #mod nise da silveira

225 notes · View notes

probablyasocialecologist · 1 year ago

Text

Captivity is a constitutive part of Palestinian life under occupation. Prior to Hamas’s attack on October 7th, Israel incarcerated more than 5,200 Palestinians—most of them residents of the West Bank and East Jerusalem—across two dozen prisons and detention centers. Some West Bank residents are incarcerated due to a still-operant military order issued following the 1967 War that effectively criminalized civic activities (e.g. gatherings of more than ten people without a permit, distributing political materials, displaying flags) as “incitement and hostile propaganda actions.” There are currently hundreds of such military orders, which criminalize anything that might be construed as resistance to the occupation. This surfeit of activities made illegal for Palestinians authorizes mass imprisonment: According to a recent estimate by the United Nations, one million Palestinians have at one time been incarcerated by Israel, “including tens of thousands of children.” One in five Palestinians, and two in five Palestinian men, have been arrested at some point in their lives, and, as of 2021, more than 100 Palestinian children faced up to 20 years in prison for throwing stones.

Not all who are arrested face charges. Israel often and increasingly makes use of “administrative detention,” a relic of the British Mandate era, which allows for indefinite incarceration without a charge or trial, ostensibly for the purpose of gathering evidence. It was a hallmark of apartheid South Africa and has been used to repress opposition in Egypt, England, India, the United States, and elsewhere, especially in the context of anti-immigration and “counter-terrorism” programs. “Since March 2002, not a single month has gone by without Israel holding at least 100 Palestinians in administrative detention,” the Israeli human rights organization B’Tselem notes; often the number is much higher. Prior to October 7th, more than 20% of Palestinian prisoners were administrative detainees; 233 of the 300 Palestinians on Israel’s release list negotiated last week were administrative detainees, Al Jazeera noted. According to the Palestinian prisoner organization Addameer, imprisoned Palestinians report being beaten, threatened, strip searched, and denied healthcare and contact with their families. Palestinians currently incarcerated, as well as those freed in recent days, report that conditions have worsened since October 7th. Meanwhile, even as this prisoner release proceeds, Israel continues to ramp up arrests: As of Tuesday, 180 Palestinian prisoners have been released as part of the ceasefire exchange, but during the same period, it arrested Palestinians at nearly the same rate. Today, more than 7,000 Palestinians are incarcerated in Israeli prisons.

Nowhere is Israel’s carceral regime clearer than in Gaza, the 140-square-mile area often described as an “open-air prison.” Gaza’s residents, now an estimated 2.2 million people—80% of whom are refugees or descendents of refugees forced to flee in the mass expulsions surrounding the founding of the State of Israel that Palestinians call the Nakba—have been hemmed in by a land, air, and sea blockade since 2006. As with Palestinians incarcerated in Israeli prisons, who for years have waged hunger strikes, protested, and written about the horrors of incarceration, Gazans have struggled mightily against their confinement. In 2018–19, they held weekly nonviolent protests at the border under the name Great March of Return. Israel responded with brutal violence, killing 260 people and wounding 20,000 others, many of whom were permanently disabled. A week into Israel’s current assault on Gaza, Ahmed Abu Artema, one of the co-founders of the Great March of Return, wrote an impassioned plea in The Nation, calling for the world to “help us tear down the wall, end our imprisonment, and fulfill our dreams of liberation.” On October 24th, an Israeli airstrike severely wounded Artema and killed five members of his family, including his 13-year-old son.

It is precisely in such contexts of radical asymmetry that we find the history of hostage-taking: In the last half-century, under-resourced combatants from Palestine to Brazil to the United States and beyond have used hostages to gain political leverage. Militants, whose own lives are not valued by the powers they face, capture those whose lives they assume are deemed more valuable. This strategy often succeeds in shifting the terms of the conversation—asserting the previously dismissed hostage-takers as political actors whose demands must be negotiated. But the same dynamic that leads militants to take hostages is why the tactic so often fails: The prison state fundamentally devalues life, and ultimately may sacrifice hostages to preserve its rule. Israeli officials have said as much. “We have to be cruel now and not think too much about the hostages,” finance minister Bezalel Smotrich said in a cabinet meeting as Israel launched its war.

#palestine #israel #gaza #west bank #apartheid #emphasis added

133 notes · View notes

sunlightmurdock · 2 years ago

Text

My Future in You | 2.0 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader au

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

Synopsis: Bradley’s twenty-two years old and not where he’s supposed to be. He’s supposed to be out of the academy by now. Instead, he’s retaking his senior year of college and praying to god that he gets into flight school. Mav’s gone, his mom’s gone. He’s mad at the world. Then, a hook up at a Halloween party changes his future even more than he could have imagined.

Warnings: accidental pregnancy, references to abortion in a few chapters, angst, will be fluff eventually, will be smut so 18+, enemies to lovers kinda thing, time jump of a month and a half / two months

…

“Your sister is fucking insane.” Bradley grunts.

“Shut up and just lift your end,” Jake demands, straying under the weight of lifting his end of the couch. A soft sigh and the two of them lift again, hoisting more than their combined body weight’s worth of sectional sofa. “And she wasn’t crazy until you got her pregnant.”

“I can hear you!” You call back from the small kitchen. Sitting cross-legged on the black and white diamond shaped tile, surrounded by boxes and new plates and bubble wrap. Your system for unpacking is fool-proof and they’ll just get in the way if they try to help. That’s why you’ve had them rearrange the layout of the living room three times already.

There isn’t too much left in your life that you have control over these days. Graduating two years early, at the top of your class, and the only people there to be proud of you were your big brother and the guy who got you pregnant. Delaying your grad job, which you worked your ass off to get, until after you’ve given birth. Finding out you had been approved to switch to their Florida office in an email from your father’s secretary.

Moving to a place you’ve never been before, with a guy you didn’t even like up until recently. Carrying a child that’ll probably never have a name because you and Bradley barely agree on anything. Knowing that Jake, your only constant through this entire ordeal, is shipping off to basic training in a day and a half.

Everything’s hurtling forwards, you can practically hear the time rushing by like wind in your ears. Dragged along with it, no choice but to keep up, there’s a voice in your head that keeps telling you it’s okay to be scared. You just aren’t sure if it’s okay to be this scared.

He’s moving around more and more these days, growing stronger and bigger. His kicks are no longer butterflies in your tummy, but now pinpointed and real, which is terrifying in itself. More recently, you’ve been wondering if he can feel how afraid you are. You don’t want him to worry.

By hell or high water, you’re going to give this little boy all the love that you’ve got. Afraid or not, he needs you and you’ll keep going for him. Being good for him is just about all you can manage. That, and unpacking the way that you need to.

Setting the plates in a cabinet, stacking bowls, glasses in an overhead cupboard. Ignoring Jake and Bradley’s bickering to the best of your ability.

Florida’s even hotter than you were expecting. It’s the last day of May and the air conditioning isn’t getting fixed until tomorrow. Home is no longer an upstairs apartment or a cramped room on the first floor of a fraternity. It’s now an almost two bedroom downstairs unit on a quiet, residential street in west Pensacola.

Living room with fireplace, fully equipped kitchen with new stove and refrigerator. Dark brown, LVP floors and new paint throughout. You have your own Lanai and storage outside unit. Also includes washer and dryer. This northeast location is tucked away in a private dead end street but has easy access to the new University shopping area. It’s nice for a first place. The bedroom is a decent size, and the spare room will work as a nursery, even if its intended purpose was an office.

Your relationship with Bradley has turned into a type of Schrödinger problem. Neither together nor apart. Sharing a room, preparing to share a life, with little more in common than the future you roped him into. He seems excited now. He’s jealous that you can feel the baby and that he can’t. He’s looking forward to meeting his son.

But, as you turn your head and look through the archway, towards him wiping sweat from his brow in the living room, guilt surges through you. Wearing gym shorts and a backwards cap, those stupid roman numerals tattooed on his bicep as he sighs softly and leans his head back, he looks so young.

You’re younger, but this decision was yours. You wonder if he would choose this if he got to do it all over again. Certainly not. All those years of carefree fun, getting to be himself finally, figuring out who he is. Now, those years belong to your son. Swallowing softly, you turn your attention back to the only thing that you can control.

Arranging spices in the rack hung over the stove.

The afternoon hurtles by just as quickly as all of the other days have recently. The routine is the same. Jake takes the couch, glad that Bradley sprung for the corner sectional that’s just about as good as sleeping on the mattress. After a day of not really talking, Bradley slips into bed beside you.

It’s never awkward, but it probably should be. Sharing all of this. A lease, a child, a future, with someone that isn’t even really yours.

“Man, I am fucking exhausted.” Bradley mumbles as his head hits the pillow, exhaling slowly into the comfort of this new space. Your first night in your new home with him. So, you connect with him in just about the only way you ever have.

Even with this protruding, exceedingly rounded stomach, somehow he still wants to fuck you at every opportunity he gets. Looking in the mirror these days is getting harder. It’s not that you have an issue with the way you look now, you think the bump is actually kind of cute. It’s just that you don’t look anything like you used to, and you’re starting to wonder if you’ll ever be that girl again.

Running your fingers through his curls, you lean over and kiss his temple softly. He hums at the feeling, reaching out and resting his hand on your hip. He turns his head and waits for you to kiss him without opening his eyes. You press your lips softly to his, his fingers curling softly to press into the fabric of your shorts. You ask gently, lips grazing his, “Too tired?”

His lips tilt up into a soft smile as he runs his fingers along the waistband of your bottoms, brown eyes flickering up to meet yours, “Never been too tired for sex.”

Turning the two of you over, he settles between your legs, working his talented mouth along all the exposed skin that he can reach.

Curling his fingers into your roots, he moans softly into the curve of your jaw, pressing delicate kisses along your throat. Part of these past few weeks has been learning your cues, your sweet spots and your sensitivities. He’s getting good at it. It’s right as you hum and lift your hips eagerly against his that there’s a sharp jolt, a soft, dull pain as the impact hits your mid-section.

Bradley sits back quickly on his knees.

You groan in complaint, rubbing over the sore spot at the top of your developing bump. It’s only once you lean your head back to sigh in complaint that you clock the look on his face. Eyes blown wide, lips parted, staring at you like you just grew a second head.

Over the past few weeks, the little guy has been getting more and more active. Wriggling around a lot, you’ve been feeling him almost constantly the past few days. It has been ridiculously frustrating, suffering in silence, Bradley constantly frowning and telling you that he can’t feel anything. The realization comes quickly.

“Was that him?” Bradley breathes out softly, brows scrunching together.

You push yourself up on your elbows, lips quirking softly. The pregnancy websites said that Bradley should have been able to feel the kicks about a week ago, you were getting worried. Bradley reaches out again and tenderly rests his hands against the bottom of your rounded stomach.

The two of you wait patiently for it to happen again, Bradley’s lips falling into a disappointed frown as your baby stops kicking. He sighs, moving to lie down beside you and smoothing his hand over the top of your stomach as he kisses your cheek.

“I’m jealous that you get to feel him all the time, moving around in there,” He mumbles, shaking his head softly. “It’s like you’ve met him already and I have to wait three more months.”

You scoff, settling down onto the sheets that you had picked out, staring at the white ceiling, “I don’t think you’d be as jealous if he was kicking your bladder like he kicks mine.”

“Probably no—“ As Bradley speaks, your lips part, jolted by another soft kick. He raises his eyebrows as you grab one of his hands and place it over your stomach. Nothing again. He furrows his brows slightly, glancing up at you expectantly.

“Say something.” You prod him.

“Um… like what? — I don’t know what to say to a —“ His sentence stops abruptly, jaw hanging open as he feels a small but unmistakable kick against his palm. “Holy shit, that’s what you’ve been feel— He did it again!”

You giggle, resting your hand on top of Bradley’s as he beams at you, “I think he likes your voice.”

His eyes widen slightly, making him look even younger than he is. It’s hard to tell whether it’s excitement or fear on his face to begin with. He leans down and presses lips to your stomach.

“I am so,” he stops, kissing your skin tenderly again, hands cradling your growing bump. “So excited to meet you, little man.”

Your heart feels like it just about splits into two and you aren’t even sure why. It’s supposed to be a happy moment. You should be happy about this. Bradley feels a slight hiccup and glances up. Your eyes are filled with tears, stinging and threatening to spill out onto your cheeks.

“Hey,” Bradley says softly as he shifts up the bed and wraps his arms around you. “Hey… it’s okay. What’s wrong?”

You swallow, trying to hold in a sob that consumes your chest and strangles your vocal chords. Sniffling, you rest your head against his shoulder. “Do you wish that we weren’t having him?”

His brows scrunch together as he tries to piece together what about that interaction could have possibly given you that impression.

“Of course not! — Where’s this coming from?” He frowns, resting his cheek against the top of your head as he smooths his fingers along your back. You’re in your third trimester now, and the pregnancy websites said that your hormones might be kind of out of whack. But you got through graduation without a hitch.

It’s as the thought crosses his mind that you break in his arms. Hunching forwards, sobbing into your hands, covering your mouth so that Jake won’t hear you crying from the living room.

“Hey… did — did I say something wrong?” Bradley asks gently, face creasing in concern. He kisses your shoulder. “I’m sorry, I—“

You sniffle and shake your head. “Don’t say sorry. Please.”

“…Okay,” He smooths his palm tenderly along your spine once again, now totally lost. “Babe, I think you’re gonna have to spell it out for me here. What should I do?”

It’s not fair on him, any of this. You pull yourself together long enough to wipe your tear-stained cheeks and string together a sentence. “Just… if we could go back and do it all again, would you… do it like this?”

“I’d probably have suggested a plan B or something.”

You look up, eyes filled with tears, throat burning.

“I’m sorry, bad time for a joke,” He shakes his head quickly and kisses your forehead. “Look, we both know that this wasn’t planned. But it happened, it’s happening — and no, I don’t regret being here with you.”

You allow yourself to sink into his arms as he kisses the top of your head and squeezes you softly.

“Is everything okay with you?” His fingers graze along the nape of your neck and over your shoulder softly. “You’ve not really said a lot to me since graduation.”

He smooths his hand over your stomach, feeling another soft kick against his palm. It’s almost midnight now, he hopes that this kid isn’t going to be this much of a night owl once it’s born.

“Everything’s just moving really fast.” You say quietly as you settle back down onto your side. Bradley copies, laying on his side so that he’s facing you, his stomach pressed to yours. He nods slowly. “Jake’s leaving, and you’re starting work, and my parents still won’t talk to me. The baby doesn’t even have a name. I’m just scared.”

He leans forwards and kisses your mouth softly. “We’ll figure it out.”

A dry laugh escapes your lips, it’s a helpless thing, really. You wipe the tears from your cheeks and shake your head slowly, “How are you so chilled out about this?”

“I’m not,” He promises, voice quiet, something in the way that he looks at you so earnestly makes you soften. “I’m scared too. But we’ll figure it out.”

A silence lingers between the two of you. No more tears, no more lump in your throat, your heart rate slowing enough that you think you might actually manage to sleep tonight. Bradley leans forwards and kisses your cheek, then flicks off the bedside lamp.

You turn onto your other side and he presses himself into your back, wrapping an arm around you and resting it against your stomach. He’s been sleeping like this for the past week straight. It always settles his racing mind. Having both of you in his arms.

He’s warm. Lips press gently to your neck and he hums softly into the curve of your neck.

You exhale softly, shuffling back against his bare chest. This feels awfully grown up. Seven months pregnant, laying skin to skin, in your new shared home.

The next morning, it’s time to drive Jake to the airport. Basic training is three months long. The next time he sees you, you’ll be a mother.

“I love you,” He says softly, wrapping his arms around you. Your stomach bumps into his as you hug him. He’s still getting used to that. “I’m gonna be back before you know it.”

“I know, I know,” You breathe out, squeezing him tighter and then patting his back as you let go. “Just be safe. Don’t do anything stupid.”

…

@thedroneranger

@chaoticweirdogeek

@alanadetigy

@itsmytimetoodream

@oldnatgwenaccount

@khaylin27

@bioodforbiood

@luckyladycreator2

@mizzzpink

@mak-32

@cherrycola27

@unordinare

@shanimallina87

@marvel-f1-and-more

@heli991113

@pauv-0414

@ghxst-heart

@momc95

@asteria33

@lilyevanswhore

@diamond-3

@galaxy-moon

@shawnsblue

@jostyriggslover96

@forgiveliv

@shawnsblue

@little-wiseone

@lovemesomevesey

@alm334

@slutfordw

@averyhotchner

@diorrfairy

Jake chuckles, giving a quick shrug as he picks his bag up from the floor and slings it over his shoulder. His attention turns to Bradley. “Take care of my sister, Bradshaw.”

“Always.” Bradley answers. You turn your head and scrunch your brows slightly as you look up at him. He drapes an arm around your shoulder and offers Jake a sincere smile.

As Jake turns and heads towards his gate, the two of you are left together. Him still leaning into your side. Always. You stare at him. Flushed skin, wearing a faded grateful dead t-shirt and blue jeans, smiling at you.

Just you and him. Alone, in a new state. Him swearing always and you staying up at night and wondering if there’s even a tomorrow between the two of you.

Ten weeks left until your due date.

…

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw smut #miles teller #rooster x you #rooster bradshaw imagine #top gun smut #my future in you

614 notes · View notes

ash5monster01 · 5 months ago

Text

Getaway Camp : Two

Pairing: Charlie Dalton x FemReader

Warnings: mentions of drinking, language, sexual innuendos, blatant staring, physical attraction, mentions of drowning, fluff.

Summary: Charlie ends up attending staff orientation hung over. It doesn’t help that he has to spend the entirety of it with Valerie in a bathing suit. Maybe summer wasn’t off to such a great start.

word count: 3.4k

Masterlist

One ←→ Three

June 5th 1961

When the camp bugle goes off at 7am sharp, awaking each of the staff, Charlie finds himself instantly groaning from the sound. He had never been hungover in his life, until now. The sound rung in his ears and he definitely didn’t get enough sleep to work off the drinking from last night, but today was his first day. The day he learned all the necessary things needed to stay employed and away from home. It should be easy, right now it was not.

“Rough night?” Andy, his room mate, snickers from his bed on the opposing side of the room. Charlie only groans in response again, pressing his palms into his eyes to relieve some of the tension.

“No more drinking for me this summer” Charlie finally says, sitting up and realizing very quickly that he needed a shower.

“Yeah, we’ll see how long that lasts big guy” Andy chuckles, and Charlie briefly recalls a moment from the night that was entirely too fuzzy this morning. Valerie had walked him here but what did he say to her? Before he could think it through, Andy was pulling his staff shirt over his head, and moving towards the door. “We got an hour till breakfast, I suggest you do everything you can to recover by then”

“Thanks” Charlie muttered as Andy slipped out the door to go off and do whatever it was he needed to do. Charlie still wasn’t sure he’d establish a friendship with the guy just yet, but he couldn’t count it out. Since the moment he had gotten here, he had been fairly surprised.

Forcing himself up Charlie found a stray water bottle and chugged majority of it down. Digging in his bag he was able to find some ibuprofen and he finished off the water bottle with that. Now on the road to recovery he grabbed his Staff shirt and some fresh clothes to start the trek to the showers. Grabbing his caddy and towel he made his way to the West showers, taking Valerie’s advice about the South ones. Finally leaving the showers dressed in fresh clothes and hair damp on top his head, he figured breakfast would be the last to his cure, and he’d be good to go for the rest of the day.

The walk to the mess hall from staff camp wasn't terrible, but with the hot 80 degree sun pounding down on his hungover eyes, he deemed it the worst hike he had ever done. He needed some coffee and the largest stack of pancakes he could find, or he would never survive the rest of the day.

"Hey Ace, beautiful morning!" the now newly familiar voice called and Charlie looked up from his feet to find Valerie stood beside Levi. She wore cotton shorts and her white Staff hoodie with the eagle symbol stitched delicately on the side. Her red bathing suit peaked out the top of her zipper and suddenly his entire mouth went dry. Not only was she still the most gorgeous thing he has laid his eyes on but she called him Ace. Nobody had called him Ace since Mr. Keating.

"Not really" Charlie finally grumbled back as he reached them and Levi let out a heavy laugh, his red swim trunks tight around his legs and white staff shirt spread across his chest. What a duo these two were.

"Sounds like you need Val's hangover special" Levi said as Charlie passed him, clapping his hands over Charlie’s shoulders and following behind as they reached the mess hall. Charlie chuckled, enjoying the cool breeze the air conditioning let into the mess hall. He had a feeling this would be his favorite spot at camp.

"What's that? Another drink?" he curiously asks, looking over his shoulders just to spot the brunette girl, all long tan legs and wavy brown hair.

"I take offense to that, I'm not an alcholic" she defends, arms crossed over her chest and only further exencuating her body in that gorgeous red suit.

"He's got a point Val, for someone who drank more than any of us, you seem awfully chipper" Levi says as he lets go of Charlie, guiding him towards a table they could all share.

“Sorry I can handle my alcohol better than two big guys” she responds, sarcasm dripping from her tone and even though Levi laughs, Charlie’s reminded of her whispering ‘big guy’ to him last night and suddenly he’s hot all over again.

“We’re just teasing Val, but hey at least one of us is bushy-tailed enough to handle orientation” Levi grins at her before starting towards the line of similarly dressed staff, making their way through the lunch line and feeling up for the day.

“Come on Ace, let’s get you my hangover cure” she smiles at Charlie, hazel green eyes dazzling. Charlie moves without even questioning it, steady with her step in the direction Levi just went.

Charlie doesn’t say a word as he just stands and holds his tray that Valerie continues to pile food on. His mouth waters with each scoop and then dries every time she flashes him that pretty white smile. It’s not long until he has an eccentric array of foods across his tray, majority that Charlie is uncertain of with the way his stomach feels. He allows it any way, following Valerie like a lost puppy back to the table Levi was already sat at, now accompanied by Nate and Alex. Charlie realizes it’s fairly normal for Valerie to be the only girl amongst her friends and he briefly wonders why.

"Eat up, you have a big day ahead of you" Valerie encourages before sitting and digging in. Charlie follows suit, obeying even though the last thing he wanted was eggs covered in maple syrup. Even the sausage was making him nauseous but he had all this food and now his only option was to eat it.

"You were crazy last night man, we warned you about trying to keep up with Valerie" Nate says with a snort, shoving a piece of bacon in his mouth. Charlie shrugged, doing his best to slowly chew his food and keep the nausea at bay.

"Leave him alone, let's talk about you and Mia" Evelyn said, wiggling her eyebrows at her friend who just rolled his eyes in response. Yet Nate gets saved when a sharp voice of a woman fills the room.

“Welcome Staff Campers to the 1961 summer season!” the room erupts in cheers, reverberating against the wooden walls, tables, chairs, and floor. Charlie has a feeling he’d be quite tired of looking at wood after living in it for the next three months.

“I’m Martha Adler, Samuel Adler’s wife. Majority of you know me from previous seasons but my job is simply to be in charge of all of you. Do not let this sound threatening. I simply want us to have the best summer together so if you need something, please come to me” chatter goes amongst the tables in the room. Previous campers with fond faces and new ones slightly panicked.

“Martha is the best” Valerie leans over to whisper in Charlie’s ear and he swallows hard as the hair rises on his arms just from the close proximity.

“Today and the rest of this week is built for everyone to prepare for our summer campers. I promise I will try to make it as easy on you as possible. You guys are here because you’re the best at what you do but for safety reasons, we still have to train. So please, for my sake, try your best to get through it. I know you all partied hard last night but we gotta push through. So do your best and make me proud” the crowd chuckles, all knowing exactly what kind of festivities they got up to last night. Charlie and Valerie included.

“For my previous campers you know how this works but for my new ones, you’ll be split into groups. So after breakfast the children camp counselors are to report to the kids camp, food service will stay here in the mess hall, water sports will meet at the dock, guest services at the head lodge, sports counselors at the gym, entertainment staff in the amphitheater, and head counselors will meet in my office” Martha fired off, eyeing the clipboard in her hands and very clearly having this down to a system now. Charlie internally groaned as he realized his category correlated with Valerie’s. He wasn’t sure he could survive much longer with her imagining exactly what that bathing suit looked like.

“You let me get drunk knowing we had to spend all day training in the heat, didn’t you?” he whispered to Valerie and she just grinned as she shrugged her shoulders.

“I am not in a position to either confirm or deny that” she tells him, knocking her shoulder with his own and he chuckles. Aimless flirting aside he was beginning to understand the fondness that surrounded Valerie. Why she had been so welcomed into these group of boys. She was different, in a good or bad way, Charlie wasn’t sure yet.

“I have a feeling this will be the best summer season yet and my best staff to date. So let’s make this one to remember for years to come and most of all, have fun!” Martha Adler finishes out, the staff erupting in cheers and clearly holding high adoration for this place. Charlie had just assumed everyone worked here for some conspicuous reason but as he sees the happy faces around him, he realizes some people just really love it here.

“You ready Val?” Levi asks, his plate of food somehow already vanished and Valerie smiles as she grabs a piece of bacon from her mainly empty plate.

“As I’ll ever be” she tells him before standing and Charlie can’t hide the confused look on his face as he watches the two begin to leave with their trays. Valerie clocks it quickly and bends down to offer him that signature sweet smirk of hers.

“Don’t worry, we’ll see you at the dock. We’ve got some business to attend too” she tells him and Charlie nods, swallowing some of his food as the pair begin to leave the table and dispose of their trays. Charlie tries to ignore the burning jealousy in his stomach as he sees Levi rest his arm across her shoulders.

It’s not long until Charlie’s stomached his entire breakfast. As much as he hates to admit it, he was feeling exceptionally better and Valerie had been right. He figured that would be the common theme for the majority of his summer, doubting her and being proven wrong. This wasn’t what was supposed to happen. He was only supposed to suffer through this just to avoid his father and now he was already having all consuming thoughts about a girl he met yesterday. So as he headed in the direction of the lake he tried to give himself a pep talk. He could ignore her, she was just a girl. It’s not like he couldn’t man up and avoid her. They just met, he still had the power to deny her.

“Shit” he freezes in his tracks, fellow campers behind him cursing as they have to abruptly stop to avoid running into him. Yet Charlie can’t move. With the dock now in view he could see Valerie, free of her shorts and sweatshirt, red bathing suit tight to her skin and high up her hips. She must’ve already been in the water based on how her long brunette curls were dripping down her back. She was ethereal and he realized fairly quickly he had no power over this at all. He had to face it head on, and that was the only thing to get him to continue in the direction of the dock.

"Alright, looks like about everyone is here!" Valerie called out, offering a fresh smile to all the faces of water correlated staff. Charlie shifted on his feet, trying to look at anything but her.

"For those of you who don't know, I'm Levi and this is Valerie. We're your head lifeguards and will be assisting you with your training today" Levi smiles, all tall and strong in his bright red shorts. He wasn't wet from the water just yet but he had already gotten rid of his shirt and suddenly Charlie was self concious. Something he had never been before.

"Don't worry, it's just the basics. Ways to save people from drowning, CPR, normal swimming safety" Valerie smiles out amongst the crowd before letting her eyes linger a touch longer on Charlie. That comforts him for only a moment before he realizes the men amongst the group are eyeing her just as him. It hadn't even been a day and he was already placing claim and burning with jealousy. He wouldn't surive the summer if Valerie picked someone over him.

“Who are we practicing CPR on?” a boy shouts from the back of the crowd, suggestion filling the air around them and the group snickers. Yet Valerie doesn’t even flinch, taking it with stride.

“Well normally the CPR dummies but I’m sure you could persuade Levi if you feel more comfortable practicing on a human” the crowd laughs again and Valerie’s eyes shine with mischief. She was clearly used to comments from the young guys.

“If that’s the only question then why don’t we get started. Split off into two groups, one with me and the other with Val” Levi announces and everyone is off, majority of the boys trying to end up with Valerie and the girls with Levi. When her group gets too large she begins to turn them away, smiling to soften the blow as they get put with Levi.

“While Levi does CPR training we’ll practice water safety and switch. Let’s see what you guys know first” and just like that Valerie is firing off questions, answers being shouted back as she smiles pridefully at each one. When she’s done with her spiel, she flashes a grin as she looks amongst them all.

“Now to practice, everyone buddy up!” she claps her hands and previous campers turn quickly to friends, pairing up with people they know, and laughing together just like it’s old times. Charlie’s so distracted by it he suddenly realizes there is no one left to partner up with.

“Looks like we got an odd man out, that’s okay. Come buddy up with me” Valerie waves her hand over and Charlie obeys, ushering to her side. He feels slightly embarrassed he somehow keeps ending up in this position. Always with her.

“I didn’t do this on purpose” he tells her quietly and she laughs, shaking her head while the buddies wait for further instruction.

“Okay, now using what you just learned, practice how to save one another. Yes everyone has to take turns drowning and saving” groans fall out of each of the staffs mouths and Valerie laughs, finding amusement in it all. The staff campers obey even if they vocalized their disapproval.

“Alright coach how should we go about this?” Charlie asked, stretching his arms and making a show of preparing to practice. Valerie lightly laughs, eyes scanning around to make sure everyone was doing exactly what they needed to be before giving him her attention. The splashes around them proved it to be true so she finally relaxed.

“Well considering I’m not the one who needs to practice I should probably be the one to drown” she tells him and Charlie nods, chestnut eyes darting to the lake as he pretends to consider it.

“That might be for the best” he finally says and Valerie snorts, enjoying the playful nature that she worked so hard to get out of the boy.

“Yeah, and why’s that?” she curiously asks and he flashes a smile, lips twitching as if he had a secret he hasn’t quite shared with her yet.

“Let’s just say if they had told me what you looked like in a bathing suit I would’ve never taken the job” Charlie whispers, leaning close and eyes darkening only slightly. Valerie finds herself blushing, not expecting the comment and unable to hide her surprise.

“I don’t know if I should take offensive to that or not?” she tells him and Charlie chuckles, hand rubbing his jaw as he processes her words and tries to keep his eyes from wandering down her body.

“I mean that in the least offensive way possible” he tells her and Valerie feels her heart flutter in her chest, unable to stop it due to how at ease he made her felt. Charlie was different. She knew it the moment she saw him and now she knew she had made the right decision in getting to know him.

“How about we save this conversation for later? For now, try to make sure I don’t die” and before Charlie could say another word she was diving into the water with ease, disappearing under the surface and leaving only the slightest reflection of red. When she breaks through she offers him a smile and Charlie knows there is no fighting it now.

"Aren't you gonna make a show of it?" he curiously asks, pulling his shirt over his head and she laughed before spalshing her arms, adding great detail of her head bobbing under the water, calling out words like 'help', 'Charlie', 'save me'. Other staff looked on from their own practice and Charlie rolled his eyes before jumping in the water just as she had taught. Red float tucked under his arms, legs closing together tightly, and head never going under the surface as he made his way to her.

What he didn't think through was how on fire he would feel the moment he touched her skin. His hands gripping her arms as he holds her above the surface, her bare legs brushing against his own as he tried to pull her close and not slip off the float. It was proven to be difficult due to her attempts at keeping herself above water, taking the fake drowning a little too serious. Charlie stayed calm and tried to pretend it wasn't Valerie he was saving as he manuevered her into a position that he could tread her back to the dock. She calmed her drowning act down, smiling at how well he had done at practice. Charlie had never learned water safety before but he grew up in a preporatory school his whole life. Sadly he was pretty good at making sure things stuck the first time around.

"Wow, look at you" she smiled as they reached the dock and somehow her hazel eyes shined brighter in the face of the water. Just as easy to drown in, Charlie figured it wouldn't be long until he was the one who needed to be saved.

"I learned from the best" he told her smoothly and she tipped her head to him before lifting herself onto the dock. All long legs and tight red suit, water dripping fastly down her body and he tensed up, eyes darting anywhere but the curve of her hips and fully round-

"You coming?" she asked, hand held out to him and body bent over. Charlie swallowed at the sight of her cleavage and quickly looked away.

"I might stay in the water a bit, nice and refreshing" he tells her unconvincingly and she only raises her eyebrows before lifting back up. Let him be, she turns to find majority of the staff had stopped their practicing to watch the two of them.

"Come on slackers, let's see what you got" and just like that the other boys and girls go right back to practicing. Showcasing their skills for Valerie so she would hopefully send them off early from training and let them get a head start on partying.

Charlie treads in the cool water, allowing his heart to slow and his mind to stop reeling. He watches as the other practice what he had just done and other techniques made for saving someone in danger. Some of the pairs clearly had done this before or been trained in it themselves. He briefly wonders what qualifications he even had to teach rowing here. He only ever was on the team in Welton and the only coaching he ever had was Nolan with a megaphone yelling at them to go faster. Panic slowly starts to fill his chest but then his eye's catch Val's and she offers him a soft wink. For a brief moment, he realizes everything just might be okay.

Taglist: @eden-punk @octaviasdread @pursuedbyamemoryy @poetsinnyc

Comment if you want to be added to the taglist :))

31 notes · View notes

commodorez · 3 months ago

Text

VCF West XIX is in the bag.

I hung out with @ms-dos5 and @virescent-phosphor, plus plenty of other cool folks from the Retrotech Crew. Only took 10 years to finally cross paths with Vi, since meeting here on tumblr. I also spotted a @foone briefly at the end of the day.

A few experiences of note:

An air conditioning compressor caught fire.

I went to an e-waste facility.

I had to buy another suitcase for the extra shit I bought.

I visited a bunch of air and space museums.

I experienced the wonders of in-n-out burger shakes.

I hauled monitors on a broken hand cart.

I spoke with an early Apple employee and out-technicalled him.

I was recognized by a former Commodore employee.

I got tasty snacks from a Japanese market.

I scored some junk and some parts from surplus sellers.

I watched an Apollo DSKY run.

I showed people my PCB projects.

I learned about a TVT version that was new to me.

I'm fucking tired, but that was awesome. Catch you on the flip side.

#Vcfwxix #Vcf west xix #vintage computer festival xix #commodorez goes to vcfwxix

23 notes · View notes

magz · 8 months ago

Text

Palestine summary for March 16 to March 28, 2024. (From "Lets Talk Palestine" broadcast channel). Quote.

March 16, 2024.

Day 162

• 1st aid shipment departing Cyprus arrived in Gaza yesterday carrying 200 tons of food, marking 1st Gaza sea shipment since 2005 + planned 2nd ship coordinated by US, UAE, Spain & Japan; but unclear on distribution of aid across Gaza

• Massacre in central Gaza as Israel destroys home, killing 36 Palestinians, incl. kids & pregnant women

🔻 Senior Hamas & Houthi officials hold rare meeting to discuss coordinated action against an Israeli Rafah ground invasion

• Israeli settlers attack homes in Nablus (West Bank), throwing stones & shooting the air + 20 Palestinians abducted in West Bank, incl. some released in Nov. hostage exchange deal

•⁠ ⁠Palestinian Authority (PA) president Abbas accuses Hamas of causing “return of Israeli occupation of Gaza”, essentially blaming Hamas for the ongoing genocide. Was prompted by Hamas criticism of ‘unilateral’ appointment of new PM of the PA (see our last broadcast)

• 63 Palestinians killed, 112 injured in Gaza in past 24 hours

March 17, 2024.

Day 163

🇺🇸⁠ NBC: Biden frustrated over drop in poll numbers in swing states Michigan & Georgia due to his handling of Gaza genocide. Shouting and swearing in a White House meeting, saying he’s doing what is right

•⁠ 19 aid trucks arrive in north Gaza — first convoys to reach the north without incident in 4 months. But aid remains scarce as Israel keeps blocking entry of aid as trucks pile outside Rafah crossing + rate of malnutrition among children under 2 in north doubles in past month

•⁠ 14th Palestinian dies since Oct 7 in Israeli prison following multiple allegations of extreme abusive conditions for Palestinian hostages

🇪🇺⁠ ⁠EU President condemns an Israeli Rafah invasion, joining countless nations to do so like the US & Arab countries

•⁠ Israeli forces abduct 25 Palestinians, incl. a woman with cancer from Gaza & a child in overnight raids in West Bank

•⁠ ⁠92 Palestinians killed, 130 injured in Gaza in past 24 hours

(No specific summary for March 18)

March 19, 2024.

Day 165

🇨🇦⁠ Canada to halt all further arms exports to Israel in support of ceasefire and 2-state “solution”, recognizing ICJ ruling. This came after a non-binding parliamentary resolution which called for ending arms sales. But resolution’s language was watered down during amendment, denoting Hamas as a “terror organization” + removing call to sanction Israeli officials

• 93 Palestinians killed, 142 injured in Gaza in past 24 hours

• Israel escalates attacks across Gaza with 1 attack on Rafah killing 14 Palestinians + ongoing raid of al-Shifa hospital killed & injured dozens

• Israel issued 100,000 new gun licenses to Israeli’s since Oct 7 out of the 299,354 applications

• Israel massacred aid distribution committee at Kuwaiti roundabout (north Gaza), killing at least 23 people

•⁠ ⁠Israeli settlers, w/ ongoing genocide as a distraction, accelerated building of 18 new illegal roads + 15 outposts (unauthorized settlement illegal under Israeli law) in West Bank since Oct

March 20, 2024.

Day 166

•⁠ 104 Palestinians killed, 162 injured in Gaza in past 24 hours

🇺🇸 Reuters:⁠ US Congress & White House reach deal on funding bill that includes blocking UNRWA donations until March 2025, based on Israel’s unverified allegations

🏥 IOF siege on al-Shifa hospital enters 3rd day, as forces surround the complex trapping hundreds inside & block rescue efforts

•⁠ 8 Israeli attacks kill 100+ aid workers in 1 week + IOF massacred 23 aid seekers in north Gaza

🚢 Israel Hayom: Israel plans to buy port in Cyprus amid fears of Haifa port closure from Hezbollah strikes, hindering military & commercial imports

⚓️ ⁠Israel’s Eilat port will fire half its employees due to Red Sea blockade

•⁠ Israeli High Court approves demolition of a Palestinian’s home for carrying out a non-lethal resistance operation in West Bank; marking first authorized home demolition by court for an operation without fatalities — an escalation in Israeli repression

🇸🇦 Saudi Arabia pledges $40m to UNRWA

March 21, 2024.

Day 167

• As Arabs celebrate Mother's Day today, we remember that on average 37 mothers are exterminated everyday in Gaza, meanwhile mothers from Gaza make up 28 of the 67 female detainees in Israeli prisons

• 65 Palestinians killed, 92 injured in Gaza in past 24 hours

🏥 Israel continues 4th day siege on al-Shifa Hospital, killing 140+ Palestinians & abducted 600 people, incl. medical staff. 13 patients killed as Israel cut off electricity, depriving oxygen, medicine & food

• 18-year-old Ubai Abu Maria abducted by Israeli forces in West Bank for 7th time, impeding treatment for bullet wound requiring surgery

•⁠ Poll finds 71% of Palestinians in Gaza & West Bank support Hamas's Oct 7 resistance operation; compared to poll 3 months ago, support among West Bank residents dropped by 11% but amongst Gazans rose by 14%

• Israel ordered 25 patients receiving care in West Bank to return to Gaza. They're among the 400 patients from Gaza who were left stranded in West Bank after Oct 7

March 22, 2024.

🚨Russia & China veto US UN Security Council ceasefire resolution

The resolution showed a shift: US had vetoed every ceasefire proposal, most recently Algeria’s as the US opposed language of “immediate” ceasefire, preferring “humanitarian pause”. But now the US draft states “the imperative of an immediate and sustained ceasefire”.

The problem? It’d last only 6 weeks, is conditional on release of Israeli hostages, and condemns both Hamas’ op & the Houthi naval blockade. The wording of “determines the imperative” is also weak, implying the importance of a ceasefire, not demanding one.

The result? It wouldn’t obligate Israel to end the genocide + let it continue on the pretext that there’s no “acceptable” hostage deal.

It was vetoed by 🇷🇺 & 🇨🇳 who said it’d let Israel continue attacks & invade Rafah. Algeria also voted against it.

10 states are planning alternative resolution calling for Ramadan ceasefire, including but not conditioned on release of Israeli hostages. US likely to veto.

Day 168 - IMPORTANT

•⁠ Gaza death toll surpasses 32,000 not including the thousands buried under rubble

‼️ Israel seized 1,977 acres of West Bank land for settlements, the largest land theft since 1993

🇺🇸 Congress passes bill that bans funding to UNRWA until 2025; expected for Senate to pass before midnight deadline

🏥 Israel’s siege on Shifa Hospital enters 5th day as they bomb & demolish buildings with bulldozers; abducting 240+ patients & 10 medical staff from radiology unit. IOF forces ordered trapped patients to surrender despite continuous heavy gunfire

•⁠ 50 Palestinians abducted incl. 4 kids during 60+ Israeli military raids across West Bank in 2 days. Marking March 20 “one of the deadliest nights recorded to date” in 2024 in West Bank w/ 7+ Palestinians killed. Israeli settlers also took over 20+ Palestinian residential structures

•⁠ UN aid mission to north Gaza for 7,500 people was denied by Israel

🇫🇮 Finland to resume UNRWA funding

March 24, 2024.

Day 170

🚨 Israeli forces lay siege to 3 hospitals, surrounding al-Amal Hospital forcing Palestinians to strip naked & leave; currently carpet bombing near Nasser Hospital & sniping anyone moving, while continuing aggressive 7-day seige on al-Shifa

• 84 Palestinians killed, 106 injured in Gaza in past 24 hours

• Israel denied thousands of Christians from West Bank entry to Jerusalem on Psalm Sunday, heightening military checkpoints. Israel’s apartheid system discriminates Palestinians’ freedom of movement, requiring permits for West Bank residents to enter, which is rarely granted. More info on Israeli apartheid: https://rb.gy/vjocrd + checkpoints: https://rb.gy/rabxt6;

• Israel to deny all UNRWA aid convoys to north Gaza, despite 70% of population subject to “catastrophic starvation”

• BDS launches boycott of tech company Intel due to its $25bn investment in new factory in Israel, the “largest investment ever”; on top of Intel’s $50bn+ investments in Israel in past 50 years

March 25, 2024.

UNSC CEASEFIRE MOTION PASSES

For the 1st time the Security Council managed to pass a ceasefire resolution. The US abstained while all 14 others voted yes

The US planned to veto if it didn’t mention the hostages so it “demands an immediate ceasefire for the month of Ramadan respected by all parties leading to a permanent sustainable ceasefire, and also demands the immediate and unconditional release of all hostages.”

But it doesn’t condition the ceasefire on a hostage swap the way done by the US draft that got vetoed by 🇷🇺 & 🇨🇳

It doesn’t condemn Hamas explicitly as the US wanted but it “deplores” all attacks against civilians & “all acts of terrorism” noting that it’s illegal to take hostages under int’l law. So it’s indirect condemnation

It expresses deep concern “about the catastrophic humanitarian situation in the Gaza Strip,” calling for more efforts for more aid & to protect civilians. This is weak language

Better than nothing but not enough as people are slaughtered & raped.

Day 171 — Attacks on 3 hospitals

🚨 Israel escalates attacks on “safe zone” Rafah killing 30+, including women and children amid threats of looming ground invasion

• 107 Palestinians killed, 176 injured in past 24 hours

🏥 22,000 displaced Palestinians face worsening conditions in the European Hospital, one of the last functioning in Gaza, overcrowded with patients awaiting critical care

🏥 Israeli forces lay siege to further hospitals in Khan Younis forcing critically ill patients to evacuate the premises surrounded by complete destruction

🏥 Israeli forces open fire on medical staff forced to evacuate al-Amal Hospital amid continuous attacks on the premise leaving patients in critical condition, deprived of medical supervision

• Netanyahu cancels Israeli delegation trip to US over its abstention in today’s UNSC vote, calling it a departure from their long-standing support of Israel. Biden called the move “disappointing”

• Israeli assaults targeting homes in central Gaza kill 18

(No march 26 summary)

March 27, 2024

Day 172

🚨 Gaza Gov’t Media Office demands end to aerial aid drops after one today killed 6 & caused 12 to drown in north Gaza

• 81 Palestinians killed, 93 injured in the last 24 hours

🇯🇴 100+ protesters arrested & teargassed outside Jordan’s Israeli embassy amid demands to end Jordan’s military & economic ties with Israel

🇧🇪 Brussels City Council passes motion to ban council purchases of products from Israeli settlements in the West Bank on the basis of international law violations

• Israel bombs residential building in Rafah, killing 15+ displaced Palestinians incl. 4 kids. Analysts say the Rafah bombings mark the start of a “silent” invasion

🏥 Ongoing Israeli attacks on Shifa Hospital kill 30+ people incl. a family living in a residential building near the besieged complex

• IOF abducts 30 Palestinians in overnight raids in West Bank cities

🇱🇧 Israeli airstrike in eastern Lebanon kills 2 people, an escalation as the bombing was far from south Lebanon, the usual battleground

March 28, 2024.

Day 173

🇮🇪 Ireland to follow Nicaragua and join South Africa’s ICJ case against Israel

•⁠ ⁠Israeli attacks on residential homes in Rafah kill 25 displaced Palestinians, incl. multiple children

•⁠ ⁠76 Palestinians killed, 102 injured in the last 24 hours

•⁠ ⁠IOF kills 4 in central Gaza, forcefully burying them by bulldozers

🇺🇸 ⁠US state department report claims Israel is complying with international law, as US reviewed Israeli usage of US weapons in order to validate future arms exports

🇱🇧 Israeli attacks on southern Lebanon residencies kill 12 in past 24 hours with many still trapped under the rubble

•⁠ ⁠Two aid seekers remain in critical condition as Israeli snipers target the Kuwait Roundabout aid distribution point

🇺🇸 Poll: 55% of Americans disapprove of Israel’s actions in Gaza — a 10% increase from November’s poll

•⁠ ⁠Israeli drone attack kills 8 in West Bank; IOF abducts 20 Palestinians in overnight raids

#on palestine #letstalkpalestine #text post #magz upload #genocide #o post

44 notes · View notes