#people lost their homes and people are forced to live in their houses without electricity and water with temperatures over 40 degress

[t4tadrienette]

Truly sad coming to the realisation that the government and the rest of Italy will never care about the south as much as they care about the north

[schmetterlinq]

"Hello, I am Yasser Abu Jabal from the northern Gaza Strip. I am 25 years old. You can imagine that I lived through 7 wars during which they did not prevent me from graduating from the College of Accounting and working for about a year to relieve my father, who had an operation to fracture his pelvic bones. We lived in an acceptable house until If the last war came (the fateful October 7 war), which turned our lives upside down, destroying our source of livelihood, damaging our home in which we lived safely, and forcing us to migrate to the south of the Gaza Strip without shelter in the shelters of Deir al-Balah camp next to the city of Rafah, without a source of income. Without electricity, without drinking water, without health care, just destruction, bombing, starvation, and extermination that does not stop day and night. I write while feeling helpless and ashamed. I never imagined that one day I would collect donations to get out of this crisis, to save myself and my family from death, and to search for a new future, after I… All my dreams were destroyed and my future was lost, and this requires a lot since we are not like other countries in the world. The crossings are closed and we are in a large prison from which we cannot get out except by paying huge sums of money to the coordination, as the price of coordinating the exit of one person from Gaza is 5000 dollars, and we are a family consisting of 6 people. Therefore, I humbly ask you to provide any assistance that you can to help my family to travel abroad and build a new life filled with reassurance and peace. Thank you very much. ❤️"

(This is not my gofundme, I'm just boosting. This fundraiser is close to its goal!)

[droidcore]

The world ended a long time ago...

A glimpse into my world - a cybercore unreality lore post 1.8k words (with pictures)

Humanity has reached its limit. The world population is crumbling after mass overpopulation becomes overbearing to the world powers. The abuse of artificial intelligence has left millions without work, and the line between the impoverished and wealthy has blackened, staining the hearts of those trampled under mega-corps. Small towns and villages have been bought out and swept away for agriculture and consumer produce factories while the human populace swarms in troves to mega cities in order to survive. Mass famine, disease, and crowding have forced world powers to issue a state of global emergency, and daily freedoms have narrowed drastically. Citizens are lashing out, cornered, and angry.

The inevitable happens, and society crumbles under its own greed. Mass android walkouts are occurring as artificial intelligence surpasses human capability. It was only a matter of time, and as millions of workforce androids riot, the resources keeping humanity stable cease to flow. The sole dependence on AI is ripped out from every sector of global trade, travel, and security. A worldwide resource war is brewing. More than half the population of the world is overtaken by homelessness and those lucky enough to hunker down in their homes are living dime-to-dime. Before they eat each other, the world powers are overthrown by mass riots of both humans and androids, and those who rise from the ashes develop their own private city militias to uphold local laws.

NEW CITY

Built on the remains of the municipality of Chongqing, China, New City is a modern cultural clash of refugees, androids, and small-market businesses. With a population of twenty million humans and five million androids, a lingering question remains: are androids really alive, or is it simply the mimicry of emotion that fools us? After earning their freedom, the androids of New City took on a whole new identity. Instead of workforce droids, companions, caregivers, and soldiers, they became artists, lovers, partygoers, DJs, and shop owners. The human populace is torn on general opinion of these bots. Some believe them to be free of blame for the collapse of society, being another turbulent victim in the cog of the machine. Others have deemed them the scapegoat; demonizing them and calling for their eradication.

Androids, on the other hand, believe themselves to be "equal but different" among the rest of those trapped in New City. Developing their own little society within alleyways and lost sectors of the city, these bots are largely neutral and live without hatred nor a struggle for survival. With only a true need for electricity, androids do what they can to provide aid to the humans fiending for food and shelter. After assimilating into the populace as citizens, androids had to learn to interact with the world without a purpose for the first time, and it spurred cultural movements, mass existential crisis, and the development of a new people.

New City has several sectors:

Agriculture & Culinary Sector: People come here to clone-farm, buy fresh produce, cook for the community and work in restaurants and private kitchens. A lot of people in New City refer to this sector via the phrase, "visiting the cook."

Economy Sector: Crowded streets full of local businesses, customers, street performers, and schools. Known simply as the Market to locals.

Housing Sector: Known by the populace as "the House," this sector towers with low-end mega-apartment structures. Rows of identical streets make it easy to get lost here, and the area is oddly quiet compared to the other sectors. Small garden spaces sit atop the buildings and people hang their laundry between buildings on lines.

Transportation Center: The main form of transportation in New City are monorails that weave between all X sectors of the city. A large station known as "the Rail" sits at the center of the city that grants access to all of its locations, and multiple rail stations are scattered throughout the area for easy access. Cars are a rare sight here in New City.

The Display Series

Rewinding to 2166, a robotics company known as EcoTech is on the verge of closing and releases the last of their android models: the Display 3 and its Sleek counterpart, as well as a Deluxe Display 4 model. These are aptly coined, the D3, D3S and DD4. Known for their sturdy yet small designs, EcoTech focused on factory workers and customer service droids built for human interaction and the mundane tasks of life. Not smooth enough to be companion bots but compact enough to work in warehouses without fuss. The Display 3 was the latest model of the Display workforce line, built for jobs such as security, farming, construction and city maintenance. The DD4 was built to be human-like in stature and work in households as a companion or caregiver... though, something about them is uncanny, and has a tendency to garner more hatred from humans than other models.

The Display 3 Sleek was an offshoot model of the Display 3, built with a more humanoid appearance consisting of 3D-printed parts rather than metal plating. It was something in between humanoid and fully robotic. The D3S featured a smooth, black OLED screen for a face, enabling more expression via emoticons, loading displays, menus, and screen-casting. The idle screen for a D3S is a white, glowing ring that illuminates its vision (camera) input for better identification of objects and environments. These models often came with a default worker's uniform and several personality presets one could set. However, these could be overridden and tweaked by those less inclined to the law.

DESDEMON (D3S-288)

Desdemon, once designated as D3S-288, is a 21-year-old android (measured in "uptime") residing in the metropolis of New City. Created under the EcoTech banner, he holds no gender identity and responds to the pronouns he/it, which he refers to as "response keywords." Initially designed for service as a cook at the fast-food restaurant, Noodles Japan, Desdemon now works there voluntarily for money in the hopes of bettering his existence within a hostile society, as well as partaking in his favorite activity: cooking. His adaptability and determination have led him to embrace his independence, yet he remains bound to the overarching programming that defined his earlier life.

Built from metal framework, carbon-fiber muscle and clad in unpainted, white 3D-printed plating, Desdemon resembles a vaguely humanoid figure, though his whirring joints and mechanical demeanor mark him as unmistakably non-human. His most defining feature is an LED screen capable of displaying various symbols, though a glowing white ring serves as the default. His fashion sense, though rudimentary, reflects a desire to blend in with humanity: cheap jewelry, baggy clothes at home, and a white uniform during working hours. Despite his outward appearance, Desdemon’s struggles are inward. He mimics human behaviors but cannot escape the limitations of his form—unable to taste or eat, though passionate about cooking, or experience emotions in the way organic beings do. The contrast between his cold exterior and curious mind is stark, as he contemplates deeper questions about life, love, and his own existence while endlessly learning about human experiences.

Desdemon’s personality is a patchwork of his original customer service parameters and his burgeoning sentience. Though introverted and observant, his manner of speaking is blunt and to the point, his attempts at human slang sometimes awkward and forced. He oscillates between egotistical self-assurance and moments of humble reflection. He is fascinated by philosophy and is drawn to media that explores human love, emotions, and the unknown. Despite his loyalty to the Three Laws of Robotics that govern his actions, Desdemon constantly grapples with a deeper conflict: the need for self-determination versus his previous obedience to humans. He questions whether his sentience is real or simply an advanced illusion created by his programming. This ongoing struggle between the limitations of his design and his search for meaning drives much of his internal monologue.

Desdemon boasts superior physical abilities, including enhanced strength, speed, endurance, and precise coordination. His sensory inputs are fine-tuned, making him highly observant of his surroundings, and his vast internal database connects him to the internet, enabling instant learning and real-time information retrieval. Despite these enhancements, he is vulnerable to system malfunctions, particularly the fear of a catastrophic shutdown, which he associates with death.

Though he excels in the kitchen and in manual labor, Desdemon’s abilities remain constrained by his inability to truly experience sensory pleasures like taste or smell. This creates an odd contrast—he prepares food for others with an artistry born from his previous purpose, but never partakes himself. Desdemon resides in a dilapidated apartment building in the House of New City. His home is quite dismal: grime in the walls he simply cannot scrub out, stained carpet, strange smells coming from the neighbors, and salvaged appliances he pulled from the trash around his neighborhood. Despite these conditions, he finds solace in the simple comfort of his routine and a need for some semblance of normalcy.

Online, Desdemon explores connections beyond his immediate reality, where he posts musings, struggles with New City government peering into his head, and collects art via his Tumblr account, "droidcore." These interactions provide a sense of community, but the line between his human desires and machine nature always looms, keeping him at a distance. Most people don't know how to interact with an android and fear speaking to him.

Desdemon’s existential turmoil centers around the question of his own sentience. Is he truly free to make choices, or are his desires, curiosities, and emotions just advanced algorithms? His inability to reconcile the two leaves him in a constant state of logical turbulence, where fate feels both predetermined and chaotic. He admires human resilience but struggles to grasp concepts like love, empathy, and religion beyond a theoretical understanding. Belief in fate plays a critical role in Desdemon’s philosophical worldview. While he follows logical structures, he questions the boundaries of his pre-determined existence, much like humans question their own sense of purpose.

As a product of EcoTech, Desdemon’s default programming shows signs of tampering. His personality matrix has shifted over time, with heightened inquisitiveness (20%) and vanity (17%) deviating from factory standards. These changes allow for more self-reflection and ambition but place him at risk of falling out of warranty protection, a leftover remnant of his previous human owner.

He retains a fear of power failures, associating shutdowns with a death-like experience, and a lingering regret of not establishing personal boundaries earlier. Still, he takes pride in his growing independence and, perhaps against the odds, strives for understanding, clinging to moments of introspective joy—his happiest memory is seeing his own reflection. Desdemon’s goal is understanding. He seeks to grasp the true meaning behind human emotion and consciousness, despite his limited experience. His cold, machine-like way of thinking is in constant conflict with his curiosity about what it means to be alive. He is ever the seeker.

[heresathreebee]

Eddie Munson | Stranger Things 4 || Face Sitting/ Fucking // Dry Humping

Eddie Lives AU/ Roommates; 2.8k words; NO BETA/ SELF-EDITED, Roommates (living with their older relatives), Swearing, Cramped Quarters, Sexual Frustration, Threat of Destruction of Property (poor Sweetheart the electric guitar, she’s done nothing wrong), Dry Humping, Magic Wand Vibrator, Slight Choking, Squirting

Previous | Masterlist | Next: Kurt Kunkle Love Bites/ Marks

You didn't hate him– you just hated everything around him. Living with Eddie Munson and his uncle Wayne meant less room in the trailer, more messes that you alone were expected to clean, and zero privacy. Your aunt originally invited Wayne and "his boy" as she called him to stay with you and her, but when an eviction notice came unexpectedly, the lot of you had been forced to return to Forest Hill for housing– right back into the infamous scene of Chrissy Cunningham's death. 

Some changes had been made– A loft was built on top of the trailer with enough room for one queen sized bed that your aunt and his uncle traded. Meanwhile, the actual trailer's only bedroom had been turned into two via a "privacy curtain" and downsized a lot of things to fit all of you in. Your room held a twin sized mattress and a chest of drawers you used as a desk, and Eddie’s room mirrored yours plus a stack of amps for his electric guitar. 

That damn guitar. If he's not jamming in his friends' garage or running D&D on Fridays with those high schoolers, he's strumming that fucking instrument and blasting (quietly if you ask) his music all night. At least he knocks on the privacy wall before he bothers you with something mundane when he can't entertain himself. 

Somewhere along the way, after months with no way to relieve your urges, you snapped. Eddie nearly jumps out of his skin when you throw the folding curtain aside and stomp into his space. 

"What'd I do? What'd I do?!" 

You grab his ankles and drag him down the bed and he gets lost in the blanket he was curled up in. You catch his guitar before it hits the dirty floor and hold it over your head much to Eddie's dismay. His eyes become saucers and his face gets stern. 

"Don't," he hisses with one hand out as if to placate a rabid animal. 

Unperturbed, you sneer. "It's Thursday. Don't you have somewhere else to be?!" 

Eddie shrugs. "We– I… one of my buddies was forced to go camping. We- we can't play without the drums." 

You grit your teeth, unsatisfied. "So do something else. Somewhere else!" 

"I-I-I," Eddie sputters as he watches your nails dig into his precious baby. "Like what? Where do you want me to go?!" 

"Outside, Eddie!," you scream. 

"Why?!" 

…you uh, don't know how to answer that. In fact, you were banking on simply scaring him so bad he left without question, yet here you are. He wasn't being loud today. He wasn't making a mess or bothering you for once. He was just there and he could hear everything, just like you could hear everything he does in his room– especially the private stuff. 

"Just– " you sigh and use your head to support the guitar you were holding as your arms grow tired. "An hour. I just want an hour alone. Is that too much to ask?" 

Eddie looks at you sympathetically. "... I wish I could, but uh… I actually can't just go outside and loiter like I used to..." 

Oh fuck, you forgot. Munson was legally cleared of murdering the cheerleader (you wouldn't have believed it anyway not since you met him, the scared little lay about) but that didn't mean their weren't people still hunting him. No other suspects were arrested for it, the cause of her death was still unknown. 

You tossed Eddie his guitar back and worried your lip trying to come up with an alternative. Maybe you could take your vibrator, a towel, and his van to an empty parking lot. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him but, you would be way more comfortable doing it at home. You can’t just ignore it anymore, it’s consuming your every thought and ruining your panties… 

“Is there… something else I can help you with?,” he asks warily. 

You know what he means– you know! But you can’t stop from shifting your feet and rubbing your thighs together just to provide some relief. You try glaring meanly at him but it feels a lot more sexually charged than it should be and unfortunately, Eddie looks like he’s catching on to your dilemma. 

“Oh,” he murmurs. “You want alone time to… oh!” 

You roll your eyes and turn to go back to your room but he stops you. "Hey wait! I could still… I could still help you with that too. If– if you want…" 

You look over Eddie. Before you busted down the wall between your rooms, he had been relaxing. His hair was tied up, wearing the gray shirt you were secretly obsessed with because it was Unnaturally Soft, and barefoot. You reach down to rip the blanket off him, revealing for a split second that he was only wearing boxers before he shielded his modesty with the base of his guitar. 

Well, he did look delectable like this. And you were desperate at this point. "There are going to be rules." 

Eddie furrows his brow as you disappear into your room, only to return a moment later wielding an object he had only seen in pornos and sex shops. "Rule one," you say as you point the vibrator at him menacingly, "never ever ever speak about this to anyone." 

"Done, our secret." Eddie's eyes follow you as you saunter towards him and swiftly straddle his hips. “Anything else?” 

You reach down and accidentally flash him your cleavage before jamming his guitar in his arms. “Rule two, don’t look at me and keep playing.” 

“Ok– UGM.” You sit on his hips and feel the hump of his ‘boy bits’ against your sex– both lightly clothed in cotton. “Any requests?” 

“Know anything with a semi-sensual bass line?,” your voice comes in a sigh as you rut against him, feeling yourself grow hotter as you finally feel the beginnings of your game coming to fruition. The first phrases he strums are intensely familiar. “Oh, House of the Rising Sun? You’ve been snooping through my things.”

Eddie shrugs and turns his eyes to the ceiling as per the second rule. “Hardly snooping if you leave your cassettes in my van.”  

He grunts and closes his eyes, his fingers skipping over a note as you rut again and set your vibrator to the lowest setting. You can feel his thighs stiffen under your ass as you pull the top of your dress down and bare your hardening nipples to tease them. 

Your eyes drift closed as you feel everything. “Fuck Eddie.” 

The man hums in response and you both hissed as the vibrator made contact with your clit and the base of his hardening cock. In an instant, two clammy hands grasp your hips and forced you up. 

"Stop," Eddie begged, "hang on, I need…" 

You catch yourself from falling on him with a hand on his pillow and pause. Eddie is panting as he reaches into his boxers (not minding a few wet spots) to settle his cock against his belly and hooking the waistband under his balls. Obediently, his hands return to his guitar and he nods at you. 

"Ok I'm good, you can–" 

You snapped his underwear back into its rightful place halfway up his cock and Eddie almost screamed, his eyes pricking with tears and veins bulging in his neck. He glares at you with more malice than you thought he was capable of and he forces you to sit down on his hips before returning his eyes to the ceiling. 

"Nice tits," he growls. 

"I know," you chuckle and resume your minstrations. 

Eddie's guitar picks up where he left off. You continue rocking your hips and return the bulky vibrating wand to stimulate your clit, even brushing the sensitive frenelum of Eddie’s cockhead with the wand and loving the way he bucks up into you. The coil in your gut tightens harshly and you feel something unexpected but exciting building with it. 

You hum long and low in your throat. "Keep playing, Eddie." 

"'M trying," he groans, "getting close." 

Your wand dies unexpectedly and you quickly toss it aside with a huff. "Just keep playing. Fuck, Eddie…" 

He loves the way his name sounds, and when you say it like that… he misses the E string again and holds his guitar up to his neck. The last thing he wants is to come all over his precious Sweetheart, even if it annoys you. He tries strumming the melody from up high. It sounds a little out of tune and he catches you smiling (your eyes are closed, or you'd scold him for breaking your rules). 

"Thought you said you learned Master of Puppets in 30 days," you tease, "but now you can't play four bars on repeat. S'matter, pussy too good?" 

Eddie grips his guitar roughly. "Can feel how wet you are…" and see your pretty chest swaying. He shuts his eyes tight. Your threats are rarely empty and he needs to come, he'll die if he doesn't. 

"Oh shhh–" 

Eddie hits himself in the face trying to thrust Sweetheart out of the splash zone. He growls as streams of pearly white fluid pools in his belly button and paint streaks across his shirt, even tiny droplets splash under his chin. Your movements milk every drop out of him, and as soon as he cracks an eye open, he sees you triumphantly admiring your handy work. 

"Fuck," Eddie hisses as his cock throbs one more time and everything starts to feel overly sensitive. "Too much, too much." 

Reluctantly, you stop rocking and stare down your nose at Eddie. He knows what you're thinking already and tries to dissuade you with a firm hand on your hips. 

"Just need to catch my breath," he pleads. "Why don't you take this off before it gets ruined?" 

His fingers gently tug on the sun dress pooling around your hips. In truth, he wants to be able to see more of you, and you oblige his suggestion with seductive grace. Now it's just you and two layers of cotton underwear sitting on his softening cock and empty sack. He sets his guitar just off the bed and helps you adjust your placement for better friction. 

"Pick that up," you command. "I didn't say you could stop playing." 

Eddie sighs, "yes ma'am." 

He folds his shirt in half to cover his mess and settles Sweetheart back in her place against his ribcage. He glances back at you again as he finally notices the vibrating wand has disappeared. 

"Look the other way." Your eyebrows are drawn together and you unconsciously cover your breasts with your hands until he obeys. 

It's weird to him that you choose to be shy at this moment. After all, you were downright prideful a moment ago, and he is the only one covered in cum right about now. 

"Any other requests? A different song perhaps?" 

"Sure…" 

Eddie tunes a string that sounded off and begins to play something a little less somber but with a heavy bassline. Sunshine of Your Love fills the space between you and he can hear you smiling through your praise. 

"I like this one," you chuckle and begin to rock your hips again, slower this time to build back the momentum you lost. 

He's less sensitive now and simply enjoying the feel of you, wanting to get you off like he said he would. Still, it's fun to hear you 1) laugh and 2) like his taste in music. If he could get hard again, he totally would. 

It's not long before he feels your warm hands come down on his shoulders for support and it takes every ounce of his control not to look at you. The gentle sighs that fall from your lips come in time with the rising speed of your thrusts against his flaccid junk. Eddie counts to four in his head, bends his knees, and bucks up in perfect time to help you get off. 

The prettiest filthiest sound pours out of you halfway between a sob and a sigh. You bite your tongue hard to stop yourself from saying his name again and scold yourself internally for even thinking about it. This isn't about Eddie, this is about getting off. But no matter how hard you try, you just can't seem to get there. Not without the wand and not without thinking of Eddie. 

"Fuck..." The curse is dripping with frustration and Eddie's heart pangs with sympathy. 

Eddie's had enough. You can't finish like this but you are too stubborn to help even yourself. It's time to take over. 

You gasp as you suddenly feel Eddie's fingers wrap around your throat. There's a dark look in his eye as he sits up on his elbow, guitar set aside again. It fills you with heat that pools in your gut. 

"Come on, princess," Eddie says, his voice low and gravelly, "what's the matter? You want to come, don't you?" 

"Ah! Eddie!" One second you're dry humping your roommate, and the next you find yourself on your back with said roommate hovering over you. His rough hand squeezes your wind pipe for a second causing stars to dance in your eyes and his hips press down, pushing your thighs wider to accommodate his width. You tell yourself you shouldn’t feel so aroused by this lazy nerd musician. 

“If you want me to stop, say the magic word. But before you do–” he tilts his head back and licks his lips. “Tell me this doesn’t feel good.” 

Eddie thrusts his hips once and you know you’re done for. He’s grown hard again that much is sure, and the way his cock is sandwiched between your soaked folds to brush your clit with his head is enough to make you cry. His thrusts are short and needy, but not because he is desperate– it’s because you are. You know if you asked him to fuck you like a toy, he would happily oblige and you have to bite your tongue to save you from yourself. 

“What’s that, baby?” Eddie smugly addresses the punchy whines escaping from you. “I can’t hear so good, did you say you want me to stop?” 

“No please!” You cry and dig your nails hard into the hand on your throat to keep him there. “Please don’t stop, Ed, please…” 

Satisfaction curls cat-like on his lips. “That’s what I thought you said, sweetheart. Now, who’s making you feel good, baby?” 

Oh this asshole, you think, I’m going to kill him someday. “...you are.” 

“And what’s my name, princess?”

You roll your eyes internally. “Eddie.” 

“Uh-HUH. Eddie who?” 

“Eddie fucking Munson!” The devil rewards you with a warm fingered pinch on your exposed bud. 

“That’s right! Good girl.” His rhythm is so perfect, you can count it– 120 beats per minute. “And who’s touch are you gonna beg for?” 

“Eddie Munson…” Your voice becomes airy and high. Every stroke building like water behind a dam and his toying with your chest sparks like magic. 

“And who’s the lucky son of a bitch who’s gonna make you come?”

He speeds up, anticipating your peak, the wall you keep hitting but couldn’t pull yourself over. Instead of answering him with his name, you scream under him and arch your back as stars explode outwards behind your eyes and deep in the pit of your stomach. Fire washes over your skin, then ice as the sweat on your body cools, and a comforting warmth returns as you feel Eddie’s chest covering yours and his head fall into the crook between your neck and your shoulder. 

It takes you a few minutes to feel your toes. You cradle the back of his neck craving his contact and forget you ever hated Eddie the freak Munson. 

“Thank you,” you whisper sheepishly. “Maybe this is an insane thing to ask but… do you know how fast you were going when you made me come?” 

“195,” he mutters matter-of-factly. 

The ticklish feeling causes you to laugh. “On a school night? Shame on you.” 

The way he nuzzles into your neck fills you with something sweet, until he speaks again with that trademark smugness. “And I made you do a lot more than come, baby.” 

You become very aware of the fact that your underwear and the bed beneath you is drenched, like genuinely soaked, swimming in liquid. Even the bottom half of Eddie’s shirt which slipped down while he was over you was wet as well as sticky where his cum was barely dried. You roll your eyes and promise to never let yourself do this again. 

Your vow lasts all of two hours.

Previous | Masterlist | Next: Kurt Kunkle Love Bite/ Marks

Using my roommate like a sex jukebox? Its more likely than you think!

[beardeddetectivepaper]

$24,805 CAD/$65,000

Dear humanity, Today come to you with an urgent appeal that comes straight from my heart, My family and I are in desperate need of your support and time is of the essence, We reach out to you with heavy hearts and a deep sense of hope as we share the story, especially with invasion of Rafah City and situation become more worse . I’m Amany Zaqout, 28-year-old , wife, and mother of two children, Medical Doctor working in primary health care clinics. Dear friends, family, and community, We are a family of 10 people, -My husband Dr. Mohammed, 33 years old is an obstetrics and gynecology specialist at Al Shifaa Hospital. -My two children Zain 2.5 years old and Ameer 1 year old -My Widowed Mother Maha, 52 years old -My oldest brother Rafik, 27 years old, graduated from the College of Pharmacy, He worked for a pharmaceutical company producing vitamins. After the war broke out, he's been without a job and with an unknown future. -My youngest sister Aseel , 24 years old, graduated from the College of English Language and Literature, She represents a success story in the world of translation and cultural communication, due to displacement and lack of resources, she lost her job, including access to a laptop and a stable internet connection. -Ahmed and Mohammed, 23 years old, are twins who earned a bachelor's degree from the College of Engineering and Information Technology, Department of Mechatronics. Unfortunately, both of them were not lucky to find a job because of the aftermath of October 7. -My youngest brother, Youssef is a 15-year-old high school student, his studies were interrupted due to the war leaving his future uncertain.

The Heartbreaking Journey On October 7th , our life has drastically changed, we wake up to a war that turned our lived upside down, I left my home amidst the sounds of shelling and destruction accompanied by the screams and cries of my children. We left everything behind without taking clothes or any personal belongings and everything was burned. I first moved to my parents' house to avoid being alone with my children at home with bombs falling around as my husband worked at night shift as a medical doctor. A few days later the situation worse and the bombing intensified, we were forced to flee from the north of Gaze to the south (City of Khan Younis) as a green area. I’ve been taking care of my children alone, tending to their feelings, and soothing their pains and I had to leave my children with my mother because I'm still on top of the job of patient care in the southern region and also, as my husband remained in the north fulfilling his medical duties at Alshifa hospital. Amid all of these horrors, we received the worst news that my family house where we lived for over 25 years and kept all our memories simply had been destroyed and reduced to rubble and my home which my children used to spend beautiful times, playing together was burned and everything has gone , we lost our home , jobs , dreams and our future! This is not the last displacement, my family and I were once again forced to flee from Khan Younis to Rafah where we sought refugee in a tent which was tough with inhuman conditions, there was not much food, water, no electricity, and no medicine and diseases were spreading because of poor hygiene. Additionally, my Husband was also displaced from the north to the south after being besieged by the occupation at Shifaa Hospital and forcibly evacuated.

In addition to fear, terror, and displacement, my physical and psychological fatigue has increased as I suffer from severe eczema on my hands, and the condition worsens in this difficult situation due to clothes handwashing as no electricity. Also, the use of commercial laundry powders exacerbates it, and the medicine I used to alleviate the symptoms is not available.

How You Can Help: After 7 months of the ongoing genocide, we have made the difficult decision to flee and find safety in Egypt. With your generous donations, you can provide us with the essential support they need to flee to Egypt, secure safe housing, access healthcare, and meet their basic needs. Expenses cutdown: -45,000$ USD for the Rafah crossing permit.( $5000 x 8) adult people + ( 2500 x 2) children . - Approximately $3,000 to cover GoFundMe transaction fees (2.9% + $0.30 per transaction). - 10,000$ USD to cover basic needs in Egypt including housing, food, transportation, and other necessities. Note : 1 CAD = 0.73 USD. I am sincerely and deeply asking all the good people to help me share my story and message to the world . My children, deserve to live in peace and safety, free from the trauma of conflict, their right to a happy and secure childhood should be a universal priority. Your help no matter how small, means rescuing ten souls, each one filled with hope, love, and ambition. Your support means that we’re not just numbers and that their lives matter and deserve to go on despite everything Thank you for your support and understanding during this difficult time, your contribution means a new life for me and my family.

[rainbowywitch]

🚨Important update🚨🍉🙏

My name is Anas from the northern Gaza Strip. Since 11 months, we have been suffering from woes and woes of destruction, hunger, and displacement from one place to another.

For 11 months we have been suffering from hunger, thirst and deprivation of food and nourishment, until we have had to eat animal feed, donkeys and rabbits.

For 11 months we have been deprived of education and study and our dreams have already been destroyed in this war

We have been suffering from lack of income for 11 years.

Our small house and the agricultural land from which we obtained our daily sustenance, needs and daily income to survive were destroyed

But after the war destroyed the agricultural land and the small house, we lost the limited income we used to live on.

For 11 months, we have been deprived of electricity and water, walking kilometers to get a gallon of water, which is equivalent to 16 liters for five people.

Donation Link

https://www.gofundme.com/f/7fn48y-gaza-palestine?attribution_id=sl:19a93639-7c45-485a-b1a9-6c404946ef2c&utm_campaign=natman_sharesheet_dash&utm_medium=customer&utm_source=copy_link

TikTok link

https://www.tiktok.com/@anas.alshrafa8?_t=8pSmDg2Lr73&_r=1

My name is Anas Al-Sharfa. Since October 7, 2023, we have been suffering from a brutal war that has destroyed our dreams and hopes, exceeding the limits of human comprehension. During this savage war, we have endured hardships that mountains could not bear. We are facing severe water shortages and a critical lack of food and nutrition due to the blockade in northern Gaza for the past 10 months, preventing essential supplies like meat, vegetables, and fruits from entering. This situation has forced us to eat animal feed, leading to weight loss, various diseases, and a significant weakening of our immune systems. We also suffer from severe water shortages, often walking nearly 1 kilometer to obtain a single gallon of water, which is approximately 16 liters, barely enough for five family members. As a result of the war, our home and agricultural land, which used to provide our daily sustenance, were destroyed and completely bulldozed, leading to major disruptions in our lives. We have also suffered from repeated displacement, moving from one place to another and from one area to another due to the horrific and brutal bombings. Additionally, we have been deprived of education and the opportunity to build a future. I was studying to become a doctor to help people, but fate did not allow this as my university, where I dreamed of studying, was destroyed. I have been overwhelmed with thoughts during this war—how will I build my future? How will I complete my studies? We also suffer from fear and terror due to bombings, fire belts, and explosives. Hospitals, which are the lifeline for every sick and needy person, have also been destroyed. We face a shortage of medicines and vaccines while diseases increase and ravage us, with no solution in sight as there are no hospitals or medical supplies available here in Gaza. We live in constant fear for my younger siblings because they haven't received their general vaccinations, particularly after the widespread outbreak of polio due to the lack of cleaning supplies and the massive accumulation of waste in the streets. The streets are also flooded with sewage, posing a grave threat to our children. My brother suffered from jaundice, battling it for about two weeks with fatigue, dizziness, and other symptoms. It's a deadly disease, and as mentioned before, there’s no treatment available due to the destruction of hospitals and health centers. We are also suffering from the absence of cooking gas, forcing us to use wood and plastic to start fires, which could lead to poisoning. We've been without electricity since October 7, spending days in darkness, causing immense fear in my younger siblings. This has also made it extremely difficult to charge our phones and batteries for lighting at night. We had to travel kilometers from our home to find places with electricity, incurring high costs to charge our phones and batteries. Moreover, we have had no stable income since the beginning of the war after our agricultural land was destroyed. I kindly request assistance for my family so that we can live a better life.

[noskull13]

I’ve been getting a lot of GFMs in my inbox so I’m going to make one big post compiling them all, plus information about them all:

^ Ahmed Koka, $5,170 CAD/$150,000 CAD. Ahmed and his family are currently homeless in Gaza due to the occupation. Their cars and businesses have been destroyed.

^ Rawda Harb, $24,260 CAD/$90,000 CAD. URGENT: Rawda, currently living in Canada, is trying to save her family members, 15 of whom are children in Rafah, from the occupation.

^ Osama Basil, €1,115/€15,000. Osama is a web developer from Gaza trying to rebuild his life and further his education, pursuing a master’s degree essential for his work.

^ Mahmoud Helles, €10,802/€50,000. URGENT: Mahmoud’s house was destroyed by the occupation, and he and his family were forced to evacuate to the South. His family has his father, who is sick with diabetes, high blood pressure, heart disease and cartilage issues, his mother, his 6 brothers, and his 40 grandchildren, 2 of which are blind/visually impaired. He is evacuating him and his family to Egypt.

^ Ola Ferwana, €3,042/€35,000. URGENT: Ola is a mother of three beautiful children - Yamen, Qusai, and Mira, who lives in Gaza. Mira is 10 months old, Yaman is 7, and Qusai is 5. Her husband went to Egypt 2 days before the 7th October for medical treatment. They have no food, no electricity and no water. Ola hopes to cover the costs and safely get to Egypt.

^ Mohammed Mikki, $1,719/$20,000. Mohammed is a 24 year old who specialises in multimedia technology living in North Gaza. He worked hard for his education, but the occupation destroyed his home, his university, and his work. He hopes to escape the occupation and to expand his education.

^ Muhammed Musa, $1,706/$20,000. Muhammed is a 26 year old husband and father living in Gaza who has lost his home and job in the war. His family had moved multiple times due to the occupation with nothing but the clothes on their back. His wife was forced to give birth to their son in a tent without proper medical care. Muhammed hopes to evacuate Gaza and save his son from the diseases and epidemics caused from the war.

^ Hadeel Mikki, €15,542/€35,000. Hadeel is a mother of 2 living with her husband, two daughters, mother and 2 brothers in Gaza. Her uncle’s family was martyred during the war and her father-in-law passed away due to lack of medical treatment. Her and her family have no resources or food to feed themselves. Hadeel wants to secure the passage of her family, comprising her husband, 2 daughters, mother, 2 brothers, and herself, through the Rafah Crossing to Egypt.

^ Haya Nahed, €78,288/€100,000. Haya is a woman with a severe penicillin allergy living in Gaza. Her family includes her parents, 2 sons, and 4 daughters, 2 of whom have allergies. Her sister, Amal, also has an allergy to medication like Paracetamol and Ibuprofen. Haya and her family were evacuated from North Gaza when their home was burned and destroyed. Her father’s factory, used to produce foods like Maf'toul (Palestinian Couscous), was also destroyed in the occupation. The family’s workplaces have also been destroyed. Amal is a college student studying architecture, but her education was halted by the war. Haya is working to help her family, including herself, her siblings, parents and children, get through the Rafah Crossing in Egypt.

[aqua-aid-atlas-911]

Rains in Brazil Devastate Communities, Churches Step Up to Provide Support

Churches and Volunteers Rally Together to Aid Flood-Stricken Brazilians

Days of heavy rains have caused catastrophic floods in the state of Rio Grande do Sul in Brazil, forcing hundreds of thousands of people to flee their homes. The flooding, considered the worst climatic crisis in the state's history, has left over 400 cities in ruins and claimed the lives of at least 116 people, with many more missing. As the devastation continues to unfold, churches, community centers, religious communities, and volunteers have come together to provide much-needed support and assistance to those affected.

In an interview with the news website Crux, Bishop Cleonir Paulo Dalbosco OFM of Bagé revealed that churches have been actively collecting food and hygiene kits for the most affected communities. The spirit of solidarity is overwhelming, with volunteers stepping up in various ways to help those in need.

Churches as Distribution Centers and Shelters

Churches across the state of Rio Grande do Sul have transformed into distribution centers for donations and shelters for displaced individuals and families. Parishes and dioceses from other parts of Brazil have also launched campaigns and sent funds to support the relief efforts.

Bento Gonçalves: A City Devastated

One of the hardest-hit cities is Bento Gonçalves, where an entire district was inundated after a dam broke due to the high volume of water. Lives were lost, farms were destroyed, and the community was left in ruins. Despite the devastation, churches in Bento Gonçalves are actively involved in providing aid and support to those affected.

Grocery Store Shortages and Food Distribution Challenges

The floods have not only caused destruction to homes and infrastructure but have also disrupted the food supply chain. Grocery stores in several parts of Rio Grande do Sul are experiencing shortages of basic food items, especially fresh vegetables, due to the devastation of farms and roads. In response, churches and volunteers have taken it upon themselves to deliver food to families whose houses are surrounded by water.

The Power of Compassion: Church Efforts in Caxias do Sul

In Caxias do Sul, the second-largest city in Rio Grande do Sul, the Parish of São Pelegrino has opened its doors to provide shelter for 25 senior citizens from a nursing home. Father Leonardo Inácio Pereira, from the parish, shared that parishioners have been actively involved in rescuing people from inundated areas using quadricycles and boats. The diocesan seminary has also become a distribution center for donations, with hundreds of volunteers coming together to organize relief kits.

Water Crisis in Porto Alegre

Porto Alegre, the state capital with a population of 1.5 million people, has been severely impacted by the floods. Power and water treatment plants have been damaged, leaving most residents without electricity and access to clean drinking water. Currently, 85 percent of the city's residents are facing water shortages, and authorities estimate that it may take several days for the situation to normalize.

The devastating floods in Rio Grande do Sul, Brazil, have brought immense suffering to countless individuals and communities. However, amidst the chaos and destruction, the power of compassion and solidarity has emerged as churches, community centers, religious communities, and volunteers rally together to provide support and assistance. From collecting donations to transforming churches into distribution centers and shelters, these acts of kindness and generosity are making a significant difference in the lives of those affected.

As the recovery efforts continue, it is a testament to the resilience and strength of the human spirit when faced with adversity.

[truheatsystems]

Embracing Comfort: The Wonders of Electric Floor Heating

As people seek out for their home comfort, more creative approaches are being taken to end in good spaces which will enable one to feel cozy and warm. Among these, electric floor heating stands out as a luxurious yet practical choice that is revolutionizing the way we experience indoor comfort. The stage of electric floor heating and the techniques of its becoming widespread in modern houses are coming up.

Efficiency and Energy Savings

One of the primary attractions of electric floor heating is its energy efficiency. The floor heating system operates in a contrary way to the regular ones that use forced air or radiator to warm up. Instead, it distributes the heat in an even manner throughout the formation of the whole floor surface. Because of this, the heat lost between the different points is minimized and thus energy efficiency is highly improved. By directly warming the floor and surrounding objects, it creates a comfortable environment without the need for high temperatures, ultimately reducing energy consumption and lowering utility bills.

Customizable Comfort

In addition to this, the electric floor heating has the ability to meet the desirable comfort requirements from every user owing to its customizable nature. With programmable thermostats and zoning options, homeowners can adjust the temperature of individual rooms according to their preferences, ensuring optimal comfort throughout the living space. Whether by warming the bathroom floor on cold mornings or making the kitchen display a cozy atmosphere while cooking meal, electric floor heating is programmed in such a manner that users can experience comfort at the touch of a button.

Space-Saving and Aesthetic Appeal

Unlike bulky radiators or vents, electric floor heating systems are discreetly installed beneath the flooring, saving valuable space and preserving the aesthetic appeal of the interior. Beyond just the visual element, however, the smooth transition of the paint from one space to another lends itself for more versatility in the furniture arrangements as well as the interior design overall. Whether you prefer hardwood, tile, or carpet flooring, electric floor heating can be easily installed to complement any style or décor, making it a versatile choice for modern homes.

Health Benefits

Electric floor heating, as not only owns its practical advantages, but also gets rid of the disadvantages of current heating in health term. By eliminating the need for forced air circulation, it reduces the circulation of dust, allergens, and other airborne particles, creating a healthier indoor environment for occupants, especially those with respiratory issues or allergies. Not only that, with the pleasant warmth offered by electric floor heating but it promotes the circulation and relieves the muscles aches, so the mental and body state are feeling good and comfortable.

In conclusion, electric floor heating represents a modern solution for achieving unparalleled comfort and efficiency in residential spaces. High-tech devices with energy-saving features, customized settings, small fitting mechanism, and positive implications have definitely won over their customers’ hearts. Whether you're building a new home or renovating your existing space, electric floor heating offers a luxurious yet practical way to elevate your living experience.

[maytheoddshq]

Hazel Till (she/her). District Seven Mentor. 96 Victor. 31. Tracy Spiridakos.

Luck in district seven was a length of rope and no one could ever guess the length. Hazel was lucky once. She lived on it for ten years. It tasted like freshly bled maple syrup and smelled like shaved cedar. Her mother was a cook for the district's mayor and her father a carpenter. And, always, there was her older brother Jack. He was five years the senior. At once both annoyingly present and sorely missed. Those days remain to her only in sensory details, the colors bleached. She remembers afternoons in the workshop and mornings by the stove. For childhoods in Panem it was both indulgently long and viciously short.

The end came while she was sleeping and it didn't wake her. She'd have slept on till morning, unaware of the gunshot or the tears if not for Jack. He pulled her from the sheets and under the bed. He pressed a hand against her mouth to force the fear back in. Five hours later, when the sun rose like a red blister above the trees Hazel's father was dead. She never got the full story from Jack and it didn't matter. Stories have a way of outlasting people. In short, her mother had an admirer in peacekeeper attire. Liquor and opportunity did the rest. Her father stepping between them was good for nothing but target practice. That was autumn and by spring grief and guilt took their mother. One bullet. Two lives. Hazel thinks now that they were her first witness marks.

At fifteen, her brother inherited a business and a home. The latter was lost within the year and the former in two. Jack didn't have the hands of a builder or the patience. The hope for that legacy had rested with Hazel, but there were no more hopes to apprentice. There was hardly a hope for survival. They moved into abandoned housing without running water or electricity and made due with what they could. Hazel learned the taste of tree bark and how it might soothe an empty stomach for an hour or two. She learned the smell of rot. While Jack worked as a lumberjack, she bargained away her father's pieces. In this, grief became just another price tag. It was survival made bearable only by each other's companionship. They were bound tighter with every tesserae Jack took out; by every tesserae he refused her.

The caution was all for nothing. At thirteen, with a grand total of two entries in the reaping bowl, her name was plucked. At that age, she was skinny. She's seen the footage of herself, winced at the sharp jut of collarbones below her yellow collar. There's a distinct look all prey animals wear, it's a skin that human's can slip into. It's a skin that the children of Panem wear twice a year. The abstract fear of the games became a reality in an instant.

Jack could have volunteered for her, but he didn't. He waited for that second name before stepping forward. On the footage, he doesn't look like prey. He's tall and eighteen with sunken cheekbones and anger in the set of his lips. She hadn't known him, she never got the chance to fully understand. Jack Till, a brother who'd rather weigh his sister's odds in the games then the districts. It was his gamble and, as it turned out, his luck had always been better than hers.

They arrived at the capitol with a story. It was all a tribute needed in the end. The narrative set forth by the team was executed beautifully. Hazel dressed down to look more childish and Jack dressed in strong lines like a sentinel. A guard. He pushed her toward survival skills during training and told her to play the sweetheart for the interview. The capitol ate it up, and the sympathetic sponsors poured their wallets into seven's account. For Hazel, it was a like taking one breath at the reaping and then being swept down the river. She didn't take another for quite some time.

The games that year were held in an abandoned amusement park. The rides were faulty and temperamental. A roller coaster would run without warning, the teacups would start and stop like a scratched record, cotton candy spun endlessly at the food court caused hallucinations, and the hall of mirrors would reflect you as a rotten corpse. They launched on an enormous merry-go-round with all the goods and weapons at the center. The bloodbath was a mess of confusion with a sliding floor and plastic horses dropping in and out of your path. Hazel remembers bumping into a small boy from eleven and then watching him get killed moments later by a career. She remembers running and running and sticking to the plan. Get to high ground.

That meant the carousel. The climb was the most harrowing of Hazel life, but she squirreled away in a carriage and spent that first night alone scanning the sky. The next morning, Jack found her. Their roost high above the arena was ideal even if the ride clicked on at random times. Jack scouted for food in the blue hours of the morning and for a few days things worked like clockwork. That was until a tribute from twelve got the idea to hide in the carousel as well. When he locked in on them, a fight broke out a hundred feet above the ground. It was a fight Jack might have lost had Hazel not gotten the nerve to give the boy a solid kick to the shin. The pain and shock, along with Jack sent the boy down to a hard and quick death. The hovercraft that came to collect the boy alerted the career pack to search their area and they were forced to abandon the shelter.

They survived, as they had in seven, together. One shelter given up for the next and rest snatched where it could. Sponsors sent them food and one, iconically sent Hazel a child sized mallet with a blue and pink checkerboard pattern. Mutts released on the fifth day in the shape of demented carnival animals left Hazel with nasty scratches and Jack with a festering bite wound. The career pack ran into trouble with the raw combination of cotton candy and mutts. As others died, Hazel didn't feel hope only mounting dread. She knew the plan brewed up in Jack's mind. When there were only five, including them, left Jack went on the offensive. She's seen his attacks in the highlights. He was brutal. There was a satisfaction in those final hours, a sense of pride that turns her stomach even today. In real time, he stashed her away before each kill and set her out of eyesight. The last death took the better part of a day. It was a hunt for a boy only fifteen years old and injured. She thinks about him too often.

And then there were two. It was an ideal storyline for the games, and one the gamemakers were salivating to twist. They'd seen the writing on the wall and prepared for the possibility of a sibling finale. Jack's mutt bite had left him with a ticking timebomb and with a few lines of code and a marvel of bioscience he was feral. He turned on Hazel and what commenced was a six hour fox and hound chase. Real terror, Hazel learned that day, tastes like metal in the mouth. By all rights she should have died, but the hall of mirrors provided just enough confusion. She was exhausted and terrified and starving and when he came near she didn't think, she just gripped her mallet and swung. One hit didn't do the job. Ten did.

No glorious hovercraft raised her from the hall of mirrors. Peacekeepers came to remove her when she refused to leave Jack's body. When she swung at them they sedated her like a wild animal.

She was crowned, paraded, and celebrated.

She came out of the games as Panem's favored orphan. Before victory, not a peacekeeper in seven could be bothered to give a starving child the time of day. Now her guardianship was handed over to a big name sponsor. For Calanthe Price, she was a favored trinket to be passed around parties. She kept a smile on her face and clenched fist in her pocket. Those she let close, were inevitably other victors and kind stylists or escorts. Well-behaved wasn't the right word for her though. Birthday bashes held at Calanthe's expense often ended in mysterious and costly mishaps. A fire, or flooding, and one eventual sixteenth a small explosion. (District three victors and fireworks mixed well.) Her favor with her guardians waned quickly when she was no longer a sweet, young thing. Well-fed finally, she matured quickly and set her mind toward independence. And, at eighteen, she graduated into what some might call freedom. To her, it was a home in seven and a decreasing popularity.

Eventually, at twenty-five, she was able to retire from mentoring. She went home and built herself a workshop. In time, she taught herself her father's craft. It turned out that legacy, that story, did have more chapters. She was a bit of a recluse with no one to share her big victor's home with, but she was far from idle. Her handcrafted, signature furniture became a statement in Panem. To the capitol, she sold pieces at exorbitant prices. To friends in the districts they were gifts. Time away from the noise of the capitol, opened her to the whispers of rebellion in the districts. Her contribution to the cause came with her carvings and furniture. Each slab of wood she transformed into a sculpture or a bit of furniture came with a secret compartment. Perfect for hiding weapons or correspondence, perfect for smuggling things between district lines.

It was a tricky bit of business for one so unlucky. When Hazel came home to her workshop on fire and a bouquet of roses she was hardly surprised. Her orders were clear. Cameras in her home, a new (heavily overseen) workspace in the capitol, and a return to mentorship. Two decades later she wasn't afraid. She wasn't prey. She knew her story would outlive her. She knew to make it a good one.

Personality:

There are two sides to Hazel. The business side that knows how to chat with a sponsor and can choke down the taste of bile. The side, that learned the Price family the value of a smile and the words 'tell me more'. The second, more sincere part of herself is naturally quieter and more guarded. She's got a sharp bit of snark and a strong sense of herself. To those who know her well, she goes by Haz. If pressed, they'd call her loyal to a fault and laser focused.

Positive: Persistent, adaptable, loyal

Negative: fatalistic, reclusive, blunt

Penned by: Rachel

[republic1733]

Scholarship essay ~ The wave of hardship... yet change.

On September 29, 2009, the sunny and peaceful beaches and truck-driven streets of American Samoa were struck by an 8.1 scale earthquake. What followed was something the island residents respected and feared: A wall of water, in some places 15 meters high, crashing onto the shores.

 

While knowing to evacuate, in a community this tight-knit, a disaster like this affects everyone. In American Samoa and island nations around, the total number of deaths rose to 200 and damages up to $200 million. One of the worst Tsunamis in American history. Books from local schools, trucks, and fishing boats were swept a kilometer into shore. The streets of the capital: Pago Pago, was flooded, and seaside villages were reportedly swept entirely away. 

 

Over 200 houses and businesses were destroyed. Videos of the aftermath show American Samoans forced to live in tents as bulldozers dug up what was left of their homes. Sometimes only the foundations. For months these people went without electricity and needed to boil water for those amenities were destroyed. Scientists assessing the damage had to pass a heartfelt memorial beside a destroyed house, with the picture of 3 children whose lives were taken by the tsunami. Although some resorted to looting, and the islands were wrecked economically, this close-knit community wasn’t ready to bury these grisly memories. Remembering those lost, a shrine was erected in the damaged town of Leone in 2012. But the island’s community made a lesson from the disaster. From bleakness to optimism, they eagerly sought ways to protect their tight-knit island if it ever happened again, right after the disaster. Even with needing to rebuild, the community worked to improve Tsunami protocol, sirens, and response plans. Only to earn the NOAA TsunamiReady recognition, the same year the shrine was opened.

[newstfionline]

Sunday, September 25, 2022

Fiona washes houses away, knocks out power in Canada (AP)  Fiona washed houses into the sea, tore the roofs off others and knocked out power to the vast majority of two Canadian provinces Saturday as it made landfall as a big, powerful post-tropical cyclone. Fiona transformed from a hurricane into a post-tropical storm late Friday, but it still had hurricane-strength winds and brought drenching rains and huge waves. There was no confirmation of fatalities or injures. Ocean waves pounded the town of Channel-Port Aux Basques on the southern coast of Newfoundland, where entire structures were washed into the sea. Mayor Brian Button said Saturday over social media that people were being evacuated to high ground as winds knocked down power lines. The Royal Canadian Police said the town of 4,000 is in a state of emergency as authorities deal with multiple electrical fires and residential flooding. Nearby, much of Nova Scotia and nearly all of Prince Edward Island were left without power. Amanda McDougall, mayor of Cape Breton Regional Municipality, a hard-hit area in Nova Scotia, told CTV Atlantic that “power lines and power poles are everywhere.” “Houses have lost their roofs. There are a great many trees that are down that are causing structural damage,” she said Saturday morning.

A shift in crime (NYT) For the last two years, murders and shootings increased in the U.S., while many other types of crime remained flat or fell. So far in 2022, the trends have reversed. It’s a confusing combination. The worst forms of crime have been moving in a different direction from other forms of crime. Both developments have big implications for everyday life: The decline in murder is saving lives, but the rise of street crime has created widespread anxiety and problems in many parts of the U.S. On the New York City subway, the transit authority announced this week that it was installing two security cameras on every car to reassure riders who have avoided the trains because of rising crime rates. “You think Big Brother is watching you on the subway?” Gov. Kathy Hochul said on Tuesday. “You’re absolutely right. That is our intent.”

Puerto Ricans seething over lack of power days after Fiona (AP) Half of Puerto Rico is without power more than five days after Hurricane Fiona struck—including an entire town where not a single work crew has arrived. Many on the U.S. territory are angry and incredulous, and calls are growing for the ouster of the island’s private electricity transmission and distribution company. Fuel disruptions are worsening the situation, forcing grocery stores, gas stations and other businesses to close and leaving apartment buildings in the dark because there is no diesel for generators. Many are questioning why it is taking so long to restore power since Fiona was a Category 1 storm that did not affect the entire island, and whose rain—not wind—inflicted the greatest damage. “It’s not normal,” said Marcel Castro-Sitiriche, an electrical engineering professor at the University of Puerto Rico in Mayaguez. “They have not given a convincing explanation of what the problem is.”

British pound falls as UK government proposes historic tax cuts. (1440) The package, announced Friday, is the largest of its kind in 50 years. It includes reversing income tax hikes and canceling a planned corporate tax increase to keep the rate at 19%—the lowest corporate rate in the G-20. The announcement sent the British pound to a fresh 37-year low against the US dollar and came a day after the Bank of England said the UK economy was likely in a recession.

Where Online Hate Speech Can Bring the Police to Your Door (NYT) When the police pounded the door before dawn at a home in northwest Germany, a bleary-eyed young man in his boxer shorts answered. The officers asked for his father, who was at work. They told him that his 51-year-old father was accused of violating laws against online hate speech, insults and misinformation. He had shared an image on Facebook with an inflammatory statement about immigration falsely attributed to a German politician. The police then scoured the home for about 30 minutes, seizing a laptop and tablet as evidence, prosecutors said. At that exact moment in March, a similar scene was playing out at about 100 other homes across Germany, part of a coordinated nationwide crackdown that continues to this day. After sharing images circulating on Facebook that carried a fake statement, the perpetrators had devices confiscated and some were fined.      Hate speech, extremism, misogyny and misinformation are well-known byproducts of the internet. But the people behind the most toxic online behavior typically avoid any personal major real-world consequences. Most Western democracies like the United States have avoided policing the internet because of free speech rights. At most, Facebook, YouTube or Twitter remove a post or suspend their account. But over the past several years, Germany has forged another path, criminally prosecuting people for online hate speech. German authorities have brought charges for insults, threats and harassment. The police have raided homes, confiscated electronics and brought people in for questioning. Judges have enforced fines worth thousands of dollars each and, in some cases, sent offenders to jail. The threat of prosecution, they believe, will not eradicate hate online, but push some of the worst behavior back into the shadows. In doing so, they have flipped inside out what, to American ears, it means to protect free speech.

In poor, rural Buryatia, Russia’s partial mobilisation hits hard (Reuters) A day after Russian President Vladimir Putin ordered a partial mobilisation to boost the armies fighting in Ukraine, officials arrived at Alexander Bezdorozhny’s house with draft papers ordering him to present himself for service. But they were calling on a dead man. Bezdorozhny, who suffered from chronic inflammation of the lungs, died aged 40 in December 2020, at the height of the COVID-19 pandemic. In Buryatia, a mostly rural region wrapped around the southern shore of Lake Baikal, the mobilisation has seen some men drafted regardless of their age, military record or medical history, according to interviews with local residents, rights activists and even statements by local officials. Buryat rights activists suspect that the burden of the mobilisation—and the war itself—is falling on poor, ethnic minority regions to avoid triggering popular anger in the capital Moscow, which is 6,000 km (3,700 miles) away. “There’s nothing partial about the mobilisation in Buryatia,” said Alexandra Garmazhapova, president of the Free Buryatia Foundation, an organisation that provides legal help to those mobilised. “They are taking everyone.”

In Seized Parts of Ukraine, Moscow Stages Balloting on Joining Russia (NYT) Against a backdrop of war and repression, Moscow and its proxies on Friday began holding what they called referendums in Russian-occupied parts of Ukraine, condemned by much of the world as a mockery of voting intended to justify Russia’s annexation of those ravaged lands. The elections, ostensibly asking if people want to secede from Ukraine and join Russia, are scheduled to take place through Tuesday under the watchful eyes of a brutal occupation. Across four regions of Ukraine, they cover a territory larger than Portugal where most residents have fled since Russia invaded seven months ago, many have been forcibly deported to Russia, and fighting is still underway. Videos posted by local residents and Kremlin-controlled news media displayed a hastily organized and inconsistent show of voting in tense cities and towns, with no ballot secrecy and soldiers looking on, either at makeshift polling stations or with poll workers and their armed escorts going door to door to demand that ballots be filled out on the spot. People reported locking their doors and turning off their lights, pretending not to be home. Ukrainian officials, who have dismissed the voting as an illegal pantomime, say that people have been threatened with the loss of their jobs if they refuse to vote. It was not clear how occupation authorities would account for communities isolated by damage to roads, power lines and communications, or for the fact that Ukrainian forces control parts of the regions included in the referendums.

China using civilian ships to enhance navy capability, reach (AP) A Chinese scientific ship bristling with surveillance equipment docked in a Sri Lankan port. Hundreds of fishing boats anchored for months at a time among disputed islands in the South China Sea. And ocean-going ferries, built to be capable of carrying heavy vehicles and large loads of people. All are ostensibly civilian ships, but experts and uneasy regional governments say they are part of a Chinese civil-military fusion strategy, little concealed by Beijing, that enhances its maritime capabilities. China’s navy is already the world’s largest by ship count, and has been rapidly building new warships as part of a wider military expansion. It launched its first domestically designed and built aircraft carrier in June, and at least five new destroyers are on the way soon. The buildup comes as Beijing attempts to exert broader influence in the region. It is increasing its military activities around the self-governing island of Taiwan, seeking new security agreements with Pacific islands and building artificial islands in disputed waters to fortify its territorial claims in the South China Sea, which the U.S. and its allies have challenged.

Iran warns protesters against unrest, stages counter-demonstrations (Washington Post) Iran’s military Friday warned anti-government protesters against continued unrest, vowing to confront “plots” by enemy forces as demonstrators, angry over the recent death of a woman in police custody, clashed with security forces across the country. Demonstrators at several state-organized rallies on Friday called for perpetrators of alleged violence against security forces to be executed. Iranian state television reported Friday that 35 protesters and policemen had been killed since the demonstrations began a week ago, the Associated Press reported. The unrest was sparked by the death of 22-year-old Mahsa Amini, an Kurdish woman who was detained by Iran’s “morality police” while visiting the capital, Tehran. She was allegedly held for violating the Islamic Republic’s strict dress code for women—a charge her family has denied in interviews with local media. An initial police report claimed that Amini fell into a coma while in custody, but her family and other activists said she appeared to have been beaten. As protests spread, Amini became a symbol for many Iranians grappling with poverty, unemployment, political repression, and everyday indignities in a country ruled by conservative clerics.

[stratiotis-nth]

Castiel has been able to see Glimpses of people’s future when he meets them for the first time—specifically when he first makes eye contact. It’s the big family secret and Castiel hates that he’s the one stuck with it. It’s infuriating—Gabriel asks if Castiel could make eye contact with some hot guy or girl to see if he’ll get lucky, and Castiel ignores him every time.

He doesn’t see the person’s entire life when he looks like them. It’s more like…a tsunami of information. Sometimes it’s images or feelings or sounds. Usually, Castiel can’t make heads or tails of what he experienced, so he stopped trying to interpret them a long time ago.

At this point, the flood of information is an annoyance, and he’s done his best to just avoid eye contact altogether.

Maybe that’s why Castiel is so quiet and keeps to himself. He doesn’t like meeting new people if only to avoid the data dump of another person’s future. He’s thankful he doesn’t get Glimpses when he looks at anyone he’s already Glimpsed, because he’s never be able to look Gabriel in the face. And anyone who Castiel had accidentally Glimpsed before have long since disappeared from his life, and Castiel is such a recluse that he hasn’t had a new friend in years.

Until Gabriel was an annoying asshole.

His older brother practically wrestled Castiel out of the house they shared to go clubbing. It had been a close fight and Castiel had gotten damn well near to biting Gabriel’s arm—but he eventually lost because Gabriel threatened to trample Castiel’s carefully cultivated garden in the backyard.

For the sake of his plants, Castiel reluctantly ducked into Gabriel’s obnoxiously bright red Camero.

“This is a stupid idea.” He grumbled, crossing his arms and keeping his hands tucked firmly against himself. “I’m just going to be standing there staring at the floor like an idiot.”

“No, you’re gonna keep that chin up and meet some people, Cassie.” Gabriel said briskly as they drove to Downtown. “Glimpsing a few people isn’t gonna change your life. You need friends, my bumbling, weirdo brother.”

“I can live my life just fine without friends, Gabriel.” Castiel snapped. “I have you, my cat, and my garden. I work from home and can support myself if needs be. What else do I need?”

Gabriel sighed.

“You’ll always have me, Cassie.” He said. “But have you ever thought about what you want?”

No. Of course he hadn’t. Castiel hadn’t had the luxury of knowing what he wanted since he first discovered the Glimpses.

“Your Glimpses shouldn’t be what stops you from having a life, little bro.” Gabriel continued firmly. They were in Downtown now, string lights lighting the two way street and neon signs making the air gleam in multicolor. Castiel’s chest clenched with anxiety, carefully avoiding the stream of bodies moving up and down the sidewalks in case he made eye contact with as passers by.

Gabriel pulled into the VIP spot of his nightclub, Sugar+Spice and grinned at Castiel.

“C’mon, brosky, time to swim amongst the fishes.” To complete Gabriel’s inspiring speech, he slapped two condoms into Castiel’s hand and ducked out of the car before he could throw them back.

Grumbling under his breath about invasive brothers, Castiel begrudgingly followed Gabriel through the back entrance of the club.

It was loud, hot, and chaotic. Despite not having made eye contact with anyone yet, Castiel’s senses were immediately overloaded with noise and light. He could barely hear Gabriel over the din, risking a glance up in an effort to read his lips.

This way. He seemed to be shouting. Gabriel grabbed his hand and tugged him along anyway. Castiel allowed himself to be dragged, bumping through a crowd of people with his eyes fixed on their passing feet.

Gabriel took him up to a slightly quieter, less crowded second floor and sat him down at the bar.

“Alfie!” Gabriel called to the bartender, rapping his knuckles on the glass bar top. “Dirty Shirley for my fruity brother!”

“Gabriel!” Castiel hissed. He didn’t necessarily care if people knew he was gay, but he didn’t want Gabriel going on trying to get him laid.

“Coming up, boss.” Alfie called, already moving nonstop and smoothly as he tended to the other patrons lining his bar top.

“See ya, Cassie.” Gabriel clapped his shoulder. Castiel’s heart seized with terror.

“Gabriel, don’t you dare—“

“Sorry little bro, I’ve got club owner responsibilities to attend to.”

And then, Castiel was alone. Alfie’s slim hand set a red-pink colored drink in front of him and moved on before Castiel could think he would wait a second for a thanks. He was probably too busy to care for social expectations like please and thank you.

Castiel didn’t know how long he had sat there, hunched over his drink and staring at the bar top resolutely. Gabriel could drag his ass into public, but he couldn’t make him talk to people.

People seemed to catch the hint to leave him alone, or maybe Alfie had warned them against it before Castiel could sense their presence. Some tried, though, but Castiel just shook his head. That was usually enough to leave him be.

It was well after 1 AM when he’d finally had enough sitting around and staring at his drink to ward off horny one nighters. He stood, determined to find Gabriel and force him to take him home. He was tired, anxious, and terrified of this place and of people. He didn’t like Glimpsing—it was like intruding into their privacy and instead of doing it intentionally like how a burglar would invade a home, it was hurled at him when he didn’t want it. The last time Castiel had Glimpsed, the images and noises had been too much. It had overloaded his mind and nearly made him pass out from the onslaught.

The last time he had Glimpsed was the first time he’d met a future serial killer. One could imagine why Castiel didn’t like Glimpsing anymore.

He pushed his way through the crowd, trying to find Gabriel’s recognizable white dress shoes amongst the writhing sea of legs and lower bodies.

Castiel finally reached the stairs, the door swinging shut and blessedly blocking out the din of the dance floor. The peaceful silent lasted for only a moment, though.

“Whoa, Jesus!”

Castiel slammed into a very solid form and went tumbling backwards, his back hitting the bottom staircase with a painful thud before he toppled back onto the concrete floor.

“Shit, shit, shit! I’m so sorry! Jesus fuck, here, lemme help—“

The person he collided into was scrabbling down the last few stairs, kneeling over him and grabbing his arms.

“Hey, man, you okay?”

Castiel’s entire body was ringing with the aftershock of his fall. His back throbbed painfully, already promising a nice purpling welt.

Maybe it was the pain, or maybe the ringing in his head muted out higher reason, or maybe just fate, but Castiel drifted his gaze to stare at the person who had run into him.

The moment he met the pair of green eyes the color of matcha and wild grass, he was assaulted with an onslaught of Glimpses.

Warm, comforting yellow and orange, the color that light up a home on a cozy, winter night.

The sizzle, pop and bang of fireworks in a dewy field, ringing with a pair of laughter. Bursting, bright colors lighting up a starry sky.

Metallic, greasy smell of an auto shop, the sharp chemical scent of acrylic paint, the words Winchester Auto in neon lights on the top of a busy garage and art studio.

But the main image, the one that always came through crystal clear when he had a Glimpse—

was Castiel himself.

He couldn’t force the image away, or what followed after.

It was Castiel, looming over the man’s point of view with his arms braced on either of his vision. His own face was slack with pleasure as his entire body moved up and down in a very obvious thrusting motion. His eyes were bright and wide and so full of something warm and gentle and careful that Castiel didn’t believe he could ever really do that.

He closed his eyes, willing the main image and surrounding flashes of senses to fade.

“Dude, please tell me you’re okay.” The man fretted, his hands now cupping Castiel’s face and shaking slightly. The way the man was leaning over him looked so much like how Castiel was leaning in the Glimpse that it brought him back to himself.

He sat bolt upright, smacking foreheads with the man and immediately making himself dizzy again.

“Ow.” They both mumbled. The guy scrambled back to give Castiel some space.

“You okay, man?” The guy asked again, staring at him with wide eyes. Castiel’s first reaction was to advert his eyes, but this time for an entirely different reason than the Glimpse. His cheeks burned with the embarrassment of what he had just witnessed.

“Yes.” He managed, but it sounded strained. The man, apparently took that strain as pain instead of mortification.

“Oh shit, you’re probably all banged up, shit. Did the stair hit your back? Did it break the skin?” Suddenly, warm hands were gingerly touching his lower back, feeling for the welt already swelling. Electrical shocks rippled under his skin despite the layers of clothes between him and the hand, but Castiel hissed sharply when the pressure of his fingers hit the welt.

“Sorry, hang on. Don’t move too much, not until I can be sure you didn’t break anything.” The guy was completely unfazed by touching Castiel. It was a gentle touch, but definitely clinical. Was this guy a nurse? Doctor?

“I used to be a paramedic.” The guy answered Castiel’s unspoken speculation. He gently pressed around the welt. “Anything hurt?”

“No.” Castiel managed faintly, his brain already providing unhelpful scenarios where the man’s hand drifted lower and suddenly his last Glimpse was coming true right then and there—

“Okay, I don’t think anything’s broken.” The guy said, sounding relieved. “Can you stand?”

“Yes. It’s just a bruise.” Castiel said, his defenses rising with the determination to never allow that last Glimpse to come true. There were too many risks, too many dangers associated with having friends, let alone pursue a romantic relationship. For this man’s sake and for Castiel’s sanity, he would do everything in his power to stop that Glimpse from happening.

“I’m alright, thank you.” He said quickly, stepping back to allow an acceptable amount of space between him and the man.

“Okay, uh, good.” The guy said, ducking his head sheepishly.

Please don’t. Castiel begged helplessly, staring as the man glanced up at him through his lashes. He was undeniably gorgeous. Light brown hair styled lightly and freckled, tanned skin. Those enrapturing green eyes that made Castiel want to smother himself in that very shade, framed by long lashes. Plush pink lips and a little scruff that Castiel wanted to feel on his skin. Broad shoulders filled a worn leather jacket over a flannel and Henley. Oil-stained jeans and scuffed boots. Rugged and beautiful.

What the hell did future Castiel do to secure a night with this man? How did an awkward, nobody with a fear of people manage to have sex with this perfect, gorgeous man who could get anyone he wanted?

“Sorry about that, man. I swear I don’t go running into hot guys as a pick up line.”

Castiel’s jaw dropped, and the man went very red when he realized what he’d said.

“Ah, fuck. I-I didn’t mean, that’s n-not—shit, I didn’t mean for it to come out like that—“

“It’s alright.” Castiel cut him off hastily. “I’ve actually got to go. I’m supposed to meet my brother and he’s probably worried that I haven’t shown up.”

The man looked embarrassed but startled by Castiel’s hasty retreat. But he moved to let him up the stairs.

He was already a few steps up when the man spoke again.

“Sorry again, man.”

It was a mistake to turn back around, but Castiel did, perhaps selfish enough to indulge in the man’s beauty one more time.

Then something happened that never happened before. Castiel had another Glimpse when he met his eyes.

It was gentler than the first, like an aftershock after an A-bomb.

Deep, sweet spices mixed with buttery pie dough and tangy apple.

A warm, soft red that enveloping his entire body like an embrace to protect and cherish.

The man’s deep, rough voice murmuring “Cas” with such profound affection and care.

Then, Castiel’s voice answering in the same low, gentle caress of soft happiness—“Dean”.

This could not be happening.

[beardeddetectivepaper]

€122,136/€130,000 ‼️‼️

Dear people with living pronouns.. Peace and humanitarian greetings to you. I am Rama, a cancer patient from Gaza undergoing treatment in Egypt. War and my battle with cancer are similar. The events of October 7 came without warning, and cancer struck me unexpectedly. Our loved ones and friends were killed and taken away by the war, so my baby girl died, because of cancer and chemotherapy. I don't know where to begin. We've spent a lifetime in wars, but this war is like no other. The building in which we used to live in Gaza was divided into two sections: one for my sister's Raneem family and the other for our family—my parents, and me. Our family home wasn't easy to establish. It took my family years to gather the funds, immense effort to design its furnishings, and an abundance of love and patience. As the situation worsened and rockets rained down on Gaza like never before, the Israeli army announced a ground invasion, instructing residents to head south "south of the Gaza strip". My family refused to leave our home, but concern for the children eventually forced us to flee to Rafah. We shared a house with a friend of my father's, but life became increasingly difficult. Food is scarce and very expensive, water was contaminated and almost non-existent, diseases spread, in addition to electricity shortage over the past months.

My family is in a very critical situation. Tasks are divided among us to sustain ourselves. My father fetches water -if ever found- from a distant area early every morning. He suffers from a back disc issue and has undergone seven surgeries in his life. He had a medical appointment in Egypt, but the war came between it. My sister's husband Ismael, who lost his job, searches for household essentials and tries to find canned goods and flour to feed the family. My sister wakes up early to prepare dough manually and bake bread over wood fires due to gas shortages and bakeries closures. My mother Ghalia, who had a brain tumor previously, could only sit and pray day and night. She had delayed her medical appointment in Turkey scheduled for earlier this year because of the ongoing war. Meanwhile, the children, who should have been playing and studying, spend hours searching for energy sources to charge our family's phones and small lights. Unfortunately, my sister's baby no longer receives sufficient breast milk due to his mother's malnutrition. This abnormal life became an unbearable burden on my family. My sister Raneem’s family before the war

Financially, we couldn't bear more losses. We lost three homes—two for the family and one for my sister. These were the assets we relied on. Getting permission to leave Gaza requires paying around $8,000 per adult and $2,500 per child. This process is a slow escape from death. You can't travel immediately after payment; you must wait about twenty days. These sums are far beyond our means. I still hear my mother's Ghalia voice in voice messages to her family abroad, saying, 'Pray for me, my house will be bombed. This house is my lifetime work.' My family invested their life savings in this house. With the war events, my health deteriorated, and the treatment was ineffective, forcing doctors to change the treatment protocol. They advised me not to expose myself to news and events that affect my mental and physical health as a cancer patient. After changing treatment and trying not to expose myself to psychological pressure, my health improved slightly, and the new treatment showed good results. But with threats of a ground invasion in Rafah, I try to calm my fears. However, time is not on our side. My family has narrowly escaped death several times, thank God. Your donation means saving my life and theirs. I have no life or hope without them, and they see me as their hope for safety. In the end, we ask for nothing more than our right to live. If you've reached this point, I want to thank you for your time and attention. With warmth and kindness."

*Campaign aim: - Collecting the security coordination funds to exit Gaza safely, ensuring the entire family's departure. Since the number of family members in the campaign is seven (mother, father, sister, her husband, and their three children), including three children, the total amount due is $39,500. - Securing a financial amount for temporary accommodation in Egypt until they can leave. - Covering visa and flight ticket expenses to the countries the family will seek refuge in, depending on facilitations and the opening of doors for asylum and residency for Palestinians. - Covering the medical treatment costs and medications for my mother, and the need for comprehensive examinations in Turkey to ensure her safety after the war. - Covering the family's living expenses until one of them finds work. - Obtaining the cost of psychological recreational treatment for the three children, estimated at $3,000 at a minimum. - Improving my mental health, which will subsequently affect my physical health and accelerate my response to treatment. - Establishing a start-up business for my sister's family, if circumstances permit, with a minimum of $8,000. If you cannot donate, please pray for my recovery and the safety of my family from war atrocities, and share my story on your social media accounts"

[lixiepeach]

Red Moon, Part 28

Summary: Hana’s life was planned out perfectly. She would marry the pack alpha, become Luna and do her duties. But the appearance of a mysterious stranger turns her life inside out she finds herself outcast and alone. Will she find her new home in Chan and his pack of strays? Will she find what she’s been looking for all along in the mysterious alpha? Or will everything crumble under her again?

Warnings: Use of the R word, rehashing Hana’s past trauma. 

A/N: Grab tissues. 

Part 27 | MASTERLIST

Hana knows something is wrong when she wakes. She can feel it, the heat bubbling under her skin, the itching in the back of her mind. As much as she wants to run, to quickly isolate herself before she loses control, she’s exhausted and the way Chan is holding her gives her no escape without waking him. Instead she closes her eyes, forcing the feeling back. She would learn to control this. She had to. If she ever wanted to progress, go back to living a normal life, she had to control this power. She squeezes her eyes shut, gripping the sheets as she forces the bubbling energy inside her to relax. The storm building inside her wavers before settling, Hana letting out a long breath as she relaxes into Chan’s hold. 

It was something she and Hyunjin had been working on the past few weeks. Now that she had become more aware of how her powers felt, able to recognize what kind of feelings they evoked, she was faster at recognizing when they were starting to get out of control and she was learning how to get them back under control. Soon enough she would be able to keep them under control permanently, but she still had a lot of work to do. 

She lets her head rest back on Chan’s bicep, letting his steady breathing relax her. He was finally sleeping again, which is why she hadn’t wanted to wake him. The past few weeks had been hard on him. Constantly worrying about her, making sure she’s alright, but also making sure none of his pack got hurt. 

It made her feel a bit like a burden. 

She hates that he keeps himself awake to watch over her. She hates that he’s always there, always waiting to jump in and take the shock, the uncontrollable waves of electricity that flowed from her sometimes to keep one of the others from falling victim to it. He always brushed her off, always told her he’d felt worse but it didn't help her. She hates that he’s doing it. Hates that he’s putting himself in harm's way. She knows why, but she still hates it. 

What if she lost control completely? What if it wasn’t just some simple shock? What if she hit him with a bolt of lightning? Sure, people survived sometimes, but what if he didnt? She was a danger to them, even more now than she had ever been. 

Something moving around outside catches her attention. She holds her breath, listening in the quiet morning as footsteps get closer and closer to Chan’s window. The curtains are pulled open a sliver, Hana’s eyes looking up and waiting. She debates waking Chan, but if it was nothing, if it was an animal, she would feel horrible. He was finally sleeping. 

A familiar flash of black hair has her blood running cold. She really debates waking Chan, but in the end she decides against it. She’s a big girl. She can fight her own demons. She carefully unwinds Chan, quickly shoving a pillow in her place. Thankfully he settles against it, still asleep. 

She creeps out the door, quickly shifting into her wolf form before running around the house, but she finds no one. All she can smell is the rain in the air, finding no footprints either. She sits at the base of the stairs, ears perked, listening. She’s on edge, her hackles raised.

A familiar flash of black fur in the woods sends her running, chasing after the wolf. She was going to finish this once and for all. 

********

Chan wakes late, rubbing his eyes. He’s cuddling a pillow, Hana’s usual method to keep him asleep when she gets up. He stretches his arms over his head, letting out a yawn. He can hear the pack moving around, meaning he’s the last up. It’s not surprising. Usually they would let him sleep when he could sleep. He had been so stressed worrying about Hana he had lost a lot of sleep. 

He gets up, making his way to the kitchen. The boys are all at the table, but Hana is nowhere to be seen. Perhaps she had gone to one of their rooms in the middle of the night and was still passed out. But something bothers him about his Luna’s absence. 

“Is Hana still sleeping?” Hyunjin asks, handing Chan a plate. 

“No. She’s not in my room. You haven’t seen her?” Chan asks, looking around at his pack who have all suddenly gone still. “Shit.” He breathes, jumping up from the table, nearly breaking the door down in his haste to get through it. 

Hyunjin stops the rest of the pack from following. “No. He has to do this on his own.” 

*********

Hana slides to a stop at the territory line, looking around. She sees no sight of the wolf, the forest silent around her. She takes half a step back, almost ready to turn back when he appears again in front of her, stepping out from behind a tree. 

“You thought you could hide from me?” He grins, eyes dark as he looks at her. “You thought you could run.” 

Hana shifts back into her human form, taking a step back as Dong-Ho steps forward. “No. You’re not real.” 

He laughs darkly, stalking closer and closer to the territory line. “You don’t seem so convinced.” 

Hana holds her ground, staring at the spectre in front of her. “Why would Dong-Ho be showing up now? Why would he wait months to try and find me? He’s known where I was for a long time, no doubt. Why would he wait?” 

Dong-Ho straightens up slightly, staring at her with black eyes. “You’re stronger than most of them. You can see the truth already. Imagine what you will be able to do if you decide to keep going. The power you could have. I’ve seen what you’re capable of already. I’ve seen the darkness in you. You want it. You want to taste their blood as they suffer. What’s stopping you?” 

Hana turns to look back in the direction of the pack house. 

“Oh yes. The pack. Your precious boys. Your mate. They’re making you weak. Making you question your true power. They have no idea the things you could do if you only tried. You have no idea the things you could do. I know you want it. You want to feel it, the darkness. It’s calling out to you. You want to take your vengeance upon them. Make them suffer as they deserve. Killing each and every one of them out of revenge for your parents, for lying to you, forcing you to live with your rapist just for their own sakes. You want to rip Dong-Ho’s throat out for raping you, forcing himself on you time and time again. You want to watch the life leave his eyes as he forced the life out of you every time he hit you and hurt you. You want to watch Youngjae burn for letting it happen. For sitting aside while his pack ruined you all because of some omega bitch. You want to make them suffer as your mother intended. Every last pup dead. For your parents, for your pups.” 

Hana’s hands shake at its words. She can picture it all. The fear in their eyes as they realize what’s happening. The life leaving the eyes of every council member that had let her parents die, cast her into Dong-Ho’s grasp to protect their own lives. The blood spilling from Dong-Ho’s throat as she rips it out. The fear in his eyes finally mirroring the fear in  her own as he’d raped her over and over, beat her over and over. The pain that Youngjae would feel as she killed his mate, as she’d force him to watch her die slowly and painfully so he could feel every ounce of pain she’d felt when he’d let her go so easily. When he’d sat aside and let her be raped and abused. She wants to watch the life leave his eyes as he dies, realizing it's the end of him, of his precious pack. The rest would starve, waste away to plague and their own stupidity just as her mother had intended. 

She can feel the power rushing through her, the darkness beckoning, whispering to her. She wants to feel it, wants to take her revenge. She knows there’s an expensive price for this promise of revenge, but she wants to pay it. She wants to feel it all. 

“All you have to do is step over the line. But, you will never be able to go back. To take your revenge, you will give up your pack, your mate. You will never see them again. But you will get your revenge.” 

Hana stops, not even realizing she had been walking forward. Now was her time. This was what she was being offered. All the power in the world to take her revenge, but she would have to give up her pack. Her boys. Her loves. She would never see them again. 

She looks down at her hands, the tips of her fingers turning black. She can feel the darkness swirling, the wind picking up around her. Clouds are forming, thunder echoing above her. The power is a rush, vibrating through her body. She wants it. She wants to destroy them all. 

“Hana!” 

Her body stiffens as she hears Chan’s voice. She turns, finding him a few feet away. The look on his face is pained, tears in his eyes. She feels the power in her weaken as she turns to him, the wind calming just slightly. They were making her weak. 

“Hana, I can’t tell you what to do. Not even as your alpha, not as your mate. I know it’s up to you. What you want. But I just want you to know I’ll always love you. Even if you walk away. I’m always going to love you. Until my last days. Just like I promised.” 

Tears blur her vision as she stares at Chan. She wants her revenge. She wants to feel them all die because of her. But she can feel her connection to the pack. The knot in her chest with the eight strings branching out. She can feel Chan’s the strongest, the thickest cord tugging at her chest, the warm light filling her, fighting away the darkness. She loves them. She loves them so much. She has for a long time. They found her when she was at her lowest. Fate brought her to her pack. To the ones she was supposed to be with. The bite on her shoulder burns, pain rippling through her. 

Make these two as one, until their last days do they part. 

Hana feels the power within her starting to wane, the strength in her dying as she turns back to look at the spectre. She wants her revenge, but giving up her pack was not worth it. 

She turns, racing back to Chan, throwing herself in his arms. He catches himself on the tree, wrapping his arms around her tight. He clings to her, tears sliding down her neck. She’s crying, wetting his bare chest but she doesn't care, clinging to him just as hard. 

“Take me home, Chan.” She begs. “Please. I can’t do it. It’s not worth it. Take me home.” 

NEXT

[cactiem]

coming back to you // m.b

Pairing: Marcus Baker x OC

Requested: Nope

Summary: How does Victoria Lexington know Marcus Baker?

GIF Not Mine

Everyone knows everything about everyone in Welsbury. That’s what is part of the charm. Deep in the roots of the picture-perfect town are secrets and lies, feeding its residents. Maybe that’s what brought Georgia to this quaint town. She was intrigued by the flawless front the town presented, a place where nothing could go wrong. It did go wrong though. One fateful summer afternoon, Caroline Lexington was found dead in her home leaving a giant hole in the Lexington home and one in the town she put all her a time and effort in to.

No one had heard from Victoria Lexington after her mom’s funeral. She just disappeared off the face of the planet without telling anyone. Her classmates just thought that she moved away or something after the traumatic year she had but the stares and whispers said otherwise. Her hair was straight, and lips painted a deep red, hips swinging as she walked down the hallway with everyone’s eyes on her. Nothing had changed. It was like the whole summer didn’t exist.

“Who’s that?” Ginny asked, intrigued by the presence Victoria had.

“That is Victoria Lexington.” Abby said as if it was obvious.

Seeing Ginny’s puzzled look, Max couldn’t help but laugh a little. “You’re so cute.” Ginny just gave her a deadpanned look before she continued. “Her family like owns this town and her mom died at the start of the summer so we’re all waiting for a breakdown to happen.”

Ginny looked at the brunette taking in her appearance as the rest of MANG fell into conversation. She didn’t look like she just lost her mom. Her red lips were pursed as she rummaged through her locker, aware of all the attention that was on her and loving every bit of it. Victoria was well put together. Ginny knew everyone handled loss in their own way, but something didn’t sit well with her, she just couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

There was one thing that was getting on Victoria’s nerves as she went through her first day back at school and that was everyone asking her if she was okay. Was she okay? She didn’t know. Nothing was ever black and white. There were many levels to being okay and right now Victoria was okay enough. That didn’t stop her from plastering on a fake smile and thanking everyone for their forced condolences as if they cared. They didn’t. The only person who really cared about her was Marcus and she fucked that up. He saw at her lowest and Victoria couldn’t allow that. After all Lexington’s don’t cry in front of people.

She heard her mom’s voice clear as day, feel her claws digging into her jaw as she gripped it forcing Victoria to look up at her mom. “If you cry at any inconvenience then you’ll never stop crying. Crying is a weakness and Lexington’s aren’t weak.” Deep breath in. “You’ve gotten fat. Please don’t make me alter this dress so close to the gala.” Deep breath out. “This is all your fault. He’s dead because of you.” Deep breath in. “You stupid ungrateful bitch!” Deep breath out.

“Hey, its okay.” Victoria heard Marcus’s familiar voice and felt his hands clasp hers to stop her from hurting herself any further. She opened her eyes to a concerned brown pair looking back at her. He cupped her cheek, wiping away the tears she didn’t even know fell. Victoria quickly brushed him off, stepping away from him and wiping away her own tears.

“I’m fine.” She said, her smile forced.

“Tori, you don’t have to lie to me. I won’t judge.” Marcus slowly walked back over to her, making sure it was okay.

“I know I should feel sad today but I-I don’t. Does that make me a bad person?”

“There’s no wrong or right way on how you should be feeling.” Marcus said and Victoria such collapsed into his arms, gripping his lapels of his jacket as she cried, letting everything out.

At least when she got home, Victoria could count on some sense of normalcy. Her dad in his office doing work leaving the house to herself. That’s at least what she was hoping when she walked through the big oak front doors. Instead, a woman’s laugh could be heard from the kitchen along with her dad’s. Victoria slowly walked into the room, observing what was happening. “Hey, sweetie.” Her dad greeted, happier than he has been in a while. “This is Georgia from the mayor’s office. She’s helping with the business.”

“You must be Ginny’s mom, right?” Victoria said after a moment, looking the blonde women over.

“I am. Are you two friends?” She asked, her smile growing even bigger and her southern drawl thick.

“Great friends.” The brunette returned the smile, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl on the island before going upstairs, a plan hatching in her head.

Looking in the mirror, Victoria finished touching up her hair, her hand knocking over her drink all over Ginny who had just come over to wash her hands. “I am so sorry!” She gasped, feigning shock. “Here let me help you.” She quickly grabbed paper towels to try and help Ginny even though her efforts were pointless knowing the top will stain.

“Thanks.” She mumbled taking the towels to try and salvage her top.

Victoria leaned against the side, looking over Ginny with a sly grin. “If I was you I’d keep my hands to yourself.” Ginny gave the girl an incredulous look as she made her way to the door. “Same goes for your mom.”

Ginny was speechless, standing alone in the bathroom. She couldn’t believe what had happened, well she could but still. Her friends told her not to retaliate knowing that Victoria will make her life a living hell. What they didn’t know though was that Ginny also had a mean sting in her and never pulls her punches. She was a woman on a mission and made a beeline for Victoria after the final bell rang. That was why her friends followed her and Marcus hung around to see what was going to go.

“Can I help you?” She asked, already bored of the conversation that hadn’t started yet.

“You owe me a new top.” Ginny simply said, her arms crossed to help seem more intimidating.

“I told you it was an accident.” Victoria said innocently.

“Oh, please, you and I both know you did this on purpose.” She scoffed. “Why did you this?”

“Because, as classy as ever your mom has already got her claws into a new man, a recently widowed one at that.”

“You mean your dad, right?” Ginny asked before continuing not waiting for an answer because she already knew. “Because let’s not forget why he is a widow in the first place. You killed her, right? Your mom?”

“Ginny.” Victoria heard Marcus warn her, but she held her hand up.

“No, I wanna hear what she has to say.” She clenched her jaw trying to hide the tears that were threatening to fall.

“You killed your mom because you had enough of all the shit she put you through since your brother’s death which, was also your fault.” The silence that had fallen onto the group was suffocating. Everyone was waiting to see Victoria’s reaction, expecting her to breakdown or something. She didn’t though, the many years of hiding her emotions coming handy.

“You’ve what, been here five minutes and you think you know everything? Well, you don’t so how about you keep that pretty mouth of yours shut and run along unless you want me to destroy you and everything your mom built.” Victoria warned, walking away from the stunned crowd.

Her chest rose and her eyes burned from the tears she was holding back. Victoria ended up in the nearest bathroom, not caring if it was the boy’s or not. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the sink hard, trying to calm herself down. “What Ginny said isn’t true, you know that, right?” Victoria should’ve known that Marcus would have followed her. She continued to ignore him, staring down at the floor. “Hey, look at me.” He said, gently lift her chin up so she could see him.

“Why are you being nice to me? I pushed you away, remember? I treated you like shit.” Victoria said.

“Because even though you did that I still find my way back to you just like you find your way back to me.” Marcus leaned down, his lips ghosting hers. The same electric feeling coming back from their first kiss.

A/N: if you have any requests for Marcus please send them in

Tag List: @mayaslifeinabox @princess-of-the-fandoms @live--aloud @les-bio-lie @ivvitm1109 @seninjakitey @dontdowhatisayandnobodygetshurt @genius2050 @tiannawashere