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perlelune · 9 months ago

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Training Wheels | Coriolanus Snow | iv.

Your mother's macabre work never appealed to you as you always preferred the comfort of your books, but when her apprentice takes a special interest in you, your safe, quiet world is flipped upside down.

Warnings: DUB-CON, NON-CON, Gaul!Reader, Shy Reader, Manipulation, Parental Neglect, Drinking, Peer Pressure, Hazing, University set, Loss of Virginity, Dumbification, Insecurities, Abusive Relationship, Degradation, Suicide Attempt

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

“Oh, do you mind if we take a little break?” Clemensia asks almost as soon as you’ve begun working on the task she gave you. You blink, a little confused as your gaze roams across the table. There’s still so much to do. You’re not sure if the girls are just that slow but it’s clear that it will take at least a few hours to get all of it done.

But Clemensia is in charge of the ball committee. You don’t picture yourself telling her what to do or how to do it. After all, you are an outsider. A foreign element infiltrating their ecosystem. You have to play by their rules.

If they want to take a break, who are you to argue with that?

You begin to rise.

“Oh, a break, sure…”

Clemensia’s lips pinch as you try to follow them. “It’s just that…we’ve been doing this for so long, all by ourselves. I even broke a nail.” She pouts, showing you her hands. “But it needs to be finished today.” She nibbles her bottom lip and sighs, eyes pleading yours. “If no one stays behind…”

You mull it over. While you’re not thrilled over the idea of working on the decorations by yourself, you did just get here. You suppose you could hold the fort while they stretch their legs…or whatever Clemensia and her friends like to do when they hang out.

“I guess I could stay,” you concede.

Clemensia flashes you a broad grin.

“You’re so sweet,” she chimes. “Thank you. We won’t be long, promise. Ten minutes tops.”

You shrug and return to your chair. Ten minutes. That sounds reasonable. You pick up the scissors and start cutting more of the tree shapes.

“No problem.”

But one issue arises.

The promised ten minutes expand into thirty. Then an hour. Then two. At first, you don’t let your mind dissect it too hard. It’s a stupid thing to overthink, isn’t it? A silly thing to chop into pieces until your mind bleeds with doubt and insecurity. You surmise it was more of an approximation. People do that all the time, say something while meaning another. At least you believe they do. Besides, you find ways to keep yourself busy, even getting started on the sparkly globes lying on the side of the room. You figure out how to use most of the tools on your own and get wrapped in your own bubble of quietness.

Silence is a familiar companion, the one constant that never judged you, never asked for more of you. In your Silence, you get to be you. Nothing more; nothing less. So you let yourself sink in its warm, snug embrace.

Still, somewhere in the back of your mind, thoughts meander passively… What is taking them so long? You steal a glance outside the window. Orange and purple hues are already bleeding into the sky, a sign of the evening nearing its end.

You retrieve your pocket watch from inside your skirt. A frown wrinkles your brow. At a time like this, you would usually be home, curled up with Walter on your bed as you go over your notes for the week. It often takes you hours just to decipher the course transcripts.

“Wow, you did such a great job,” Clemensia whistles from behind you.

You gasp and whirl. All smiles, the girls fill your sight.

They approach the table and examine some of the decorations you put together on your own. Realization sweeps through you as the fog of your thoughts clear. It didn’t hit you before, not until you absorbed the current state of the crafts table, brimming with the results of your solitary labor. You’ve been busy. Spinning crystal balls, pine cones, silvery garlands and a heap of snowflakes meant to hang on the walls and ceiling. Clemensia admires your handiwork, seemingly impressed.

A little peeved, you point out, “I mean…had you guys even started? Most of the decorations needed to be cut, glued or assembled…”

“I have delicate hands,” Livia sighs, examining her manicured nails.

“I’m very slow, sorry,” Ivy says apologetically.

Your frown deepens. Was this whole thing a setup? You sacrificed precious time to be here and you shudder to think the entire purpose of your presence is some kind of childish prank.

Coriolanus’ words echo in your mind. He argued the girls weren’t like that and that they left the immature tricks back at the Academy. You truly want to believe that none of this is designed to embarrass you, that perhaps, again, all of this is in your head. But your aching fingers, sore from doing crafts most of the afternoon, suggestotherwise.

Unleashing a sigh, you gather your satchel and head towards the exit.

Clemensia obstructs your path, holding up her hands in apology.

“I know we should have been back earlier. I’m so sorry. We ran into the Dean and it turned into a whole thing.” She seizes your hands, remorse twisting her pretty features. “I feel so horrible. I invited you so we could do it together as friends.”

Your shoulders slump. As you soak in the look of genuine contrition on her face, doubts lurk inside you. Your confidence about being the victim of some prank wavers. Perhaps, you overreacted. Incidents happen. Besides, the chances of you joining Clemmie’s committee are slim, as you’re already swamped with assignments. A promise was made and you kept it. But this likely will be a one time thing. School dances are at the bottom of your priority list right now.

So you discard it all with a wave of your hand and a contrived smile.

“It’s okay. No apology needed. It’s not your fault.” You note how much darker it’s gotten outside. “I should go back home though. It’s already so late-”

Clemensia stops you again, her hand tightening around yours as she offers excitedly, “Wait, you should come to game night at Liv’s.”

“What?” Livia snickers. Clemensia shoots her a withering glare and the blonde clears her throat, correcting herself, “I mean…yeah, you totally should come.”

You fidget and adjust the strap of your satchel. You may have heard whispers of those game nights. Mystique surrounds them as only a few chosen people are invited to attend. You, of course, were never invited. And it isn’t hard to gather how Livia feels about you coming from her reaction. Why force your way into places where you aren’t wanted?

“I’m already behind on my revising for the day. If I don’t go over my Molecular-”

“Boring,” Ivy sings sarcastically.

“Don’t be mean, Ivy,” Clemensia scolds, elbowing her in the rib.

Clemensia tilts her head, her tone turning beseeching.

“Please…I really want to get to know you better.” She huffs out a long breath as she seems to sense your hesitation. The brunette leans closer, hands clutching your forearms. Sympathy twinkles in her onyx orbs. “You know, I used to be a lot like you. Always striving to be the best at everything I do.” A hollow giggle slips through her lips. “It’s how I got in trouble with your mother actually…I wanted to win so badly and she decided to teach me a lesson.” Sadness pinches her delicate features. “But by always striving for greatness, you miss out on life. I learnt that during the Games...”

“...Surviving isn’t living.”

She studies you before saying, “And it’s what you’re doing, isn’t it? Surviving.”

Eyes on the ground, you chew on your lip. You never imagined someone like Clemensia Dovecote - the most beautiful, popular girl at the University - could feel this way…let alone relate to you.

“Clemmie…”

She hunkers a little so your eyes meet.

“Come on, I really want to make up for today.” She laughs. “Show you I’m not a bitch.”

“I don’t think you’re a bitch,” you say.

She places her palm on your cheek. “See? You’re so nice. That’s why I want us to be friends.” She bends over your ear, the words she mutters almost too quiet to be heard, “I can barely stand those two on most days, but appearances must be kept.”

Your gaze swings upward, shock pulsing through you.

She beams at you. “It’ll be an intimate gathering of just a select group, close friends. We play cards, chat, and have a few drinks. That’s it.”

Your forehead creases.

“I don’t drink.”

Squeezing your shoulders, she assures you, “Then I’ll make sure not a drop of alcohol passes your lips. Promise.”

“It’s casual, I swear. You can even leave early if you want.”

This grabs your attention, as you aren’t sure you’ll make it through the night without craving to return to the safe, familiarity of your apartment. The potential for escape makes the offer far more enticing.

Obviously, Clemensia cares about you showing up. While you don’t fully grasp why, you also never had anyone go out of their way to spend time with you. During the Academy days, everyone avoided you like the plague, either finding you odd or fearing you were as terrifying as your mother. The University doesn’t seem much different so far, groups having already formed from previous camaraderie. Bonds that were forged years ago and cemented over time while you endured in the back of the class. The forgotten one. And you always figured it is the most you can aspire for. Being ignored and left alone.

Until now.

“Really?”

Clemensia’s smile widens.

“Yes. You can stay as long as you want and leave.”

“I don’t have anything to wear to a party,” you muse, pursing your lips. Your tiny, limited wardrobe has always prioritized function over fashion. There are your Academy uniforms, a few loose, unflattering clothes you rotate between. A single formal dress more suited for a funeral than a game night. Nothing impressive because you never had anyone to impress.

You also have no sense of fashion, the trends shifting too quickly for you to keep up. So you’ve stopped trying to.

“Don’t worry. We’ll figure something out,” she chimes. “The girls and I always get ready at each other’s house anyway. And you’re one of the girls now.”

You peer down at you and Clemensia’s entwined hands. One of the girls. No one’s ever spoken about you that way. As if your mere presence made something better, uplifting it instead of leading it to its ruin. As if you were solid, more than a wisp of air, a waste of breath. As if you mattered. So, despite the sizzling weight of Livia’s blue eyes on you, you smile back at Clemmie and give a bashful nod.

Your eyes feast on every detail of Clemensia’s living room as you enter her home. Her parents’ apartment is every bit as large and opulent as you imagined. Every exquisite detail screams wealth. The unabashed, showy kind that stoked the embers of bitter unfairness in the Districts, leading the Capitol to where it is today. A city risen from the ashes. Your attention lingers on the expensive artwork exposed in glass cabinets. A lot of it appears to be memorabilia from before the war. You’re willing to bet the combined value of every overpriced trinket in the house could feed an entire District. Paintings of Clemmie’s illustrious ancestors hang over the damask walls, their stern stares seeming to follow you. Almost as if they were ready to leap from the eroded gilded frames and berate you for being an intruder in their family home.

Clemensia tugs you along.

“What are you dawdling for? Come on,” she urges.

You trail behind her as she takes you to her bedroom. You smile when you see it. The somber, tasteful hues are so very her. The hinges of her wardrobe whine as she opens the large, wooden doors. A vertiginous row of clothes crowd your sight. You gawk, a little amazed but also slightly terrified. Who needs this many clothes? A sour expression scrunches her features.

“I know,” she sighs, placing a hand on her hip. “This is a little embarrassing. Most of these are soo last season.”

You tilt your head at her dizzying collection of shoes, clothes, accessories…the kind a legion of girls would kill for.

“Right,” you blindly agree. Nevermind you can’t even tell the difference. You glance around. “Shouldn’t Livia and Ivy be here too?”

Her brow twitches as she sits on her massive canopy bed. She pats the spot next to her and you awkwardly plop down. The plush silk and soft mattress dip under your weight.

“We decided to meet later,” she reveals. She pauses, a heavy sigh fluttering through her painted red lips before adding, “Besides, I told them to be nicer to you and they got upset and pretended not to know what I was talking about.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumble.

She waves her manicured hand dismissively.

“No, don’t be. This isn’t your fault.” Clemensia licks her lips, her face etched with reflection, as if she were assessing the weight of her words before releasing them. Her hand settles on your arm.

“Look, here’s the thing. Livia’s had a crush on Coriolanus since he returned and they had a sort of fling.” Your mouth drops open. This is news to you. You didn’t catch any hint of lingering longing between the two back at their lunch table. But now that you’re mulling it over, perhaps…Perhaps, Livia’s eyes kept seeking Coriolanus’, while his treaded their own path, never crossing hers. “Things were going pretty well...for a little while. But then, you came along.”

Your brows furrow. “What does this have to do with anything?”

Clemensia’s bell-like laughter resonates in the room.

“God, you’re a sweet thing…just like Snow said.” She beams at you. “Don’t worry. Liv will get over it. She’s all bark and no bite, trust me.”

Her attention travels to the dark fabric peeking from your bag.

“What’s that?” she asks, pulling out the garment.

“The only dress I have.”

She inspects it with a displeased frown.

“Were you planning on wearing this?” She shakes her head as your mouth clamps shut. “Oh, this will not do.”

She takes your hand and drags you to her wardrobe. Brow wrinkled in concentration, she rummages through a numberless heap of garments.

“I have some clothes that my cousin left,” she explains while frantically searching. After a while, victory flares in her orbs. She unhooks a sleek, crimson dress with a tight bodice and flowing sleeves from a hanger. She holds it against your body, chiming, “She’s about your size so they should fit you.”

“I can’t accept this, Clemmie.”

You attempt to push her hands away but the brunette shoves it in your arms, insisting on you at least trying it on. You press the soft fabric between your fingers. It’s more revealing and form-fitting than you’re used to. You gather it would cling to your body like a second skin…one you aren’t used to wearing. Still, you must admit that it’s a lovely dress. One that could look good even on you. Temptation claws at your resolve, digging deeper and deeper grooves, right into every insecurity you ever had. That thing other girls had that always eluded you. That little secret you were never privy to. The key to that door that never opened. The dress is the key. And you find yourself unable to resist turning the lock to find out what secrets lie beyond that mysterious door.

Beneath Clemmie’s eager stare, you remove your clothes and slip on the dress.

Smug satisfaction hovers on her lips as you peer at your reflection. Words fizzle out on your tongue. You are looking at a complete stranger.

Clemmie rests her chin on your shoulder. “See? I knew it.”

She then has you sit at her vanity to help you do your makeup. Do your makeup…The words sound alien even in the private confines of your thoughts.

As she draws a neat black line over your eyelids, she says, “It hasn’t been long since makeup’s returned to the Capitol again. It used to be near impossible to find.” When she’s done, she turns you towards the vanity mirror. “Those colors will bring out your eye shape and color.”

The air leaves your lungs in a quick rush. You lean closer to the mirror, once again in disbelief that you are truly looking at your own face.

Fingers twisting the delicate fabric of the dress, you pivot to Clemmie.

“Why are you so nice to me?” you blurt out.

Her eyes widen briefly before her expression softens.

“You remind me of me.”

Confusion surges through you. There is an ocean of glaring differences between you and Clemmie, one you couldn’t swim through if you tried.

“What?”

“Believe it or not, I wasn’t always this confident.”

Your brows knit, Clemmie’s statement making little sense. If confidence wore a face and had a name, it’d be Clemensia Dovecote’s.

Gripping your shoulders, she turns your focus back onto your dolled-up appearance.

“Alright. Look in the mirror, what do you see?”

You blink. You see a girl playing dress-up, pretending, but you don’t utter those words aloud. They sound lame, even in your own head.

“Nothing,” you tritely respond, dipping your head.

She lifts your chin, moving her head to disagree.

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Her eyes twinkle. “I see infinite potential. So stop selling yourself short.” Covering her mouth, she laughs. “His jaw is going to drop.”

“Whose jaw?”

She smirks at you. “You know whose jaw.”

Heat sneaks inside your face.

You fidget in the chair. It’s not like what he thinks matters, right? He is no one to you, just that boy with the unsettling blue stare who won’t leave you be for some strange reason.

So why is there a tiny shiver of excitement coursing through your veins when the thought of him seeing you like that permeates your brain?

A vigorous gust of common sense sweeps away your wayward musings.

You don’t care what he thinks. Of course you don’t.

“I-It’s not really my style,” you stammer as you get to your feet.

The sparkle in her onyx orbs doesn’t waver.

“Sweetheart, you don’t have a style yet…so how would you even know?”

“Shouldn’t we be at Livia’s already?” you ask, hoping to steer the conversation in another direction.

She considers you as if you were the most endearing thing in the world. She grabs your hands. “Here’s another rule. Never be on time for anything.” A haughty smirk creeps upon her red lips. “Make them wait for you, not the other way around.” She cocks her head. “One of the things about confidence is knowing that you are the sun, and standing in your orbit is a rare privilege.” She scoffs, “People should feel lucky you even bothered showing up.”

She approaches you and touches up parts of your hair, visibly elated with the result.

“Perfect,” she trills. “Like I said…potential.”

She herself finishes getting ready. As you absently meander about her room, the doorbell chimes.

Clemmie pauses as she applies powder on her face. She sets aside her makeup tools and escorts you to the lobby, arm threaded with yours.

“Must be our chauffeur,” she states.

Your eyes round. “You have a chauffeur?”

She cloisters herself in cryptic silence, humming as she drags you along.

When the brunette swings the door open, a towering, familiar figure darkening her doorway, time hangs still for a few seconds.

Your mouth opens wide enough to catch flies.

A smug smile unfurls on his lips.

“Angel,” he greets, gaze locking with yours as he completely ignores Clemmie.

Her sharp irritated tone shatters the spell.

“You’re late, Snow.”

Coriolanus snickers.

“As if you’re ever on time.”

You trail behind Clemmie as she and Coriolanus keep bantering, his presence still swaddling you in sheer shock. When she tries to take the passenger seat, he drapes a placating hand over hers.

She rolls her eyes and begrudgingly heads to the back of the car.

He opens the car door for you. Recalling the fruitlessness of arguing with him, you climb into the seat. Still, saying you feel awkward riding in the front while the brunette is sulking in the backseat would be a massive understatement.

Few words can accurately describe how peculiar all of this is for you.

“You look surprised,” Coriolanus notes as he takes his own seat and slams the door shut. Your heart misses a beat when his hot breath caresses your earshell. “I did say I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”

You look down at your lap. Breathing is laborious, the air in the vehicle coated with the lingering smell of his pricey cologne. You are literally choking on Coriolanus Snow with every breath you take.

“Will you just drive, Snow?” Clemmie snaps, crossing her arms.

“Relax. Patience is a virtue,” he says, not sparing her a glance, zeroing in on you instead. The drumming of your heart swells to an uproar in your ears when he reaches across your body. You hold still while he ties your seatbelt for you. Blue eyes rake over your form in brazen appraisal, his deep voice lowering. “And good things come to those who wait.”

#dark!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #hunger games #tbosas fanfiction #dark!coriolanus snow x reader

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chanranghaeys · 3 months ago

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📉 blunt

“They say keep your friends close…and your enemies closer. So I did.” “But why is it that when I got closer, you seemed less like an enemy…and more of something else?”

pairing: corporate!dino x gn!corporate!reader word count: 2.1k tags: angst, hurt, corporate competition, not friendly competition at all, almost office romance but asshole!dino happened? warnings: taunting, bickering, cursing, nsfw teasing, literal “not safe for work” stuff haha

a/n: this is for all the corporate working guys and gals out there. inspired by this video from the gose mag vol 2 shoot and a short twt convo that ensued with my moots and i hskdjfh

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ masterlist . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

“Thank you everyone for your time. See you all for the final presentation next week.”

You slam the lid of your laptop shut—gently—at that last remark from your project lead. This project would make or break the reputation of the whole firm and everyone felt the pressure and tension. No big deal, just millions of dollars, everyone’s jobs, and the name of every person involved were on the line.

You paused for a while to take a moment for yourself when you were broken out of your reverie by a blunt force hitting the back of your head. You look for the source and glare at the black laptop bag in front of your face. Of course.

You looked up and were greeted with a smirking face and an eye roll. He looked like an angel with his platinum blonde hair and playful eyes, but he was the devil in disguise if you actually knew him.

It took all your willpower to remain seated and not burst out. That would not bode well for your professional image with most of the people still in the meeting room. There’s always been tension between the two of you since this project started. And you both knew the exact reason why.

───────────── ౨ৎ ─────────────

You were tasked to lead the presentation during the meeting last week. It was an important one because it wasn’t just the team in attendance—the whole executive committee would be there. No big deal though, you were prepared and confident. You were wearing your smartest business attire, hyping yourself up because god knows how else you could get through that morning.

People started coming into the board room one by one. And in he came, as if he were the one commanding the room. The other guys came in their best effort, but he walked in wearing a tailored suit, somehow looking dressed down yet dressed up. And you knew he was in the room before you saw him. He took on a distinct scent, sweet but powerful, spicy and intoxicating. You glared at him and he gave a polite nod of the head in return.

“Good luck,” he said. His smile was full of goodwill, but his eyes were telling another story. His line of sight shifted from you to your laptop and back. An alarm bell rang in your head, but you couldn’t risk being rattled before it even started.

When the executive committee arrived, the president was expectant, looking toward his direction when they asked, “So who will be presenting the final proposal today?”

You projected your voice to take back command. “That would be me,” you said with a winning and confident smile, and you began. You breezed through the presentation with ease until you reached the part discussing the budget.

“Something seems off with the figures.” The chief finance officer narrowed their eyes and reviewed the document in front of them, comparing it to the presentation flashed on the screen.

What the… They were right, there was something off. The numbers were wrong and the numbers didn’t make sense, and the executive committee was here precisely so they could see the bottom line and make sure it was logically sound with the proposal. Shit. Why didn’t I see this before?

“If I may…”

“Ah, Chan.” Your project lead signaled you of the happenings, looking at him with a questioning look. “What is this?”

“Well, I reviewed the deck before this meeting and actually saw this coming.” What? Your smile as you looked at him was tight, civil, and seething. “Sadly, there wasn’t enough time to revise the presentation before this meeting, but I can point out how the numbers are supposed to add up.” He met your gaze at that last line as if mocking your seeming incompetency.

He stood up and started talking, pointing out the flaws in your computations. But he didn’t stop there. He continued to point out other flaws in your presentation and how those contributed to the wrong numbers. He didn’t stop. Almost as if…he planned this from the beginning.

You two were assigned to complete the final proposal and you’ve both been working on it for weeks. Believe it or not, you actually liked working with him. He was smart and knew what he was doing, and he was naturally good at it—Too good, you think to yourself sometimes.

But when your team lead assigned you to present and finalize the whole thing, he suddenly became competitive, hard to reach, and infinitely harder to collaborate with. His sudden 180-degree change did not make any sense at all to you, until today. Until you saw him presenting in front of the executive committee, engaging everyone in a way that you did not and could not.

I am his number one competition and he thinks he is better than me. He thinks I don’t deserve it. But that’s what he thinks.

Once the presentation meeting was over, you made your way to the employees’ locker area. With everything that happened today, you needed to breathe. You couldn’t stand the congratulations Chan was receiving, the ones that were supposed to be yours.

You found your way in front of your locker and opened the lock with ease. You didn’t know why you did that though, as your locker was empty save for a spare set of heels and a photo of you and your family attached to the back of the locker door.

He was in the room before you saw him, that sweet and spicy scent following him around wherever he went. The only time you acknowledged him was when he was standing to your right, leaning on the lockers and looking at you with an unreadable expression.

“Why are you here?” You greeted him with a side eye.

“I thought you could use some company.”

“What makes you think I’d appreciate your company?”

Chan shrugged. “You always used to like my company.”

“That was before you became an asshole.”

“I’m hurt. How could you call me that when I wanted to give you my congratulations?”

The scoff you let out echoed throughout the room. “Excuse me? You knew what was going on back there. You knew there was something wrong, and I’m willing to bet my ass that you’ve known about it for days—maybe even weeks. And you did not bother to tell me for reasons I cannot fathom aside from you being a selfish son of a bitch.”

“Ooh, the slander.” He breathed in through his mouth audibly with a hiss. “I can raise this up to HR as degradation.”

“Oh, boo hoo. Suck it up the way you do with the big bosses. That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it? You think you’re way too good to be at the same level as I am that you would go as far as almost sabotaging a presentation like that with this unprofessionalism.”

“Unprofessional? Who the fuck do you think saved your sorry ass back there?”

“Saved? You could have saved it by being cooperative in the first place and those damn numbers wouldn’t be a fuck up in the first place!”

You jump when Chan leaves your side and slams your locker door shut. But you are unfazed and laugh. “Wow, that’s so mature Chan.” But when you turn to face him, he remains there, his left arm caging you against the lockers.

“Chan, get the fuck away away from me.” You push against his arm and chest but he resists, instead folding his arm to frame your face with his forearm and pinning you effectively to the lockers with his height. He towers over you and you attempt to look up at his piercing gaze.

“Chan…what the fuck are you doing?” His perfume washes over your senses with his face and neck mere inches away. He arrived at the locker area more dressed down from the meeting, his coat and necktie gone and the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up. His argyle sweater vest hides a glint of silver from around his neck.

It takes all your willpower to meet his eyes in this close proximity. And you were both daring to do so, knowing that this was an area secluded from the rest of the office.

“Do you remember when you first arrived here, all bright eyes and smiles during your first day?” Chan’s eyes softened for a bit and matched the hushed tone of his voice. You could feel his breath on your face, smelling sweet from a breath mint. “One look at you and I knew why you were hired. One look and I knew you were special.” He raised his hand to slowly, painstakingly brush away a stray piece of your hair, before slowly tracing a finger down your cheek. “One look...and I knew you were dangerous."

“What are you doing?” You whisper as his finger continues to follow a line down your neck and to your shoulder.

“You were dangerous. You were a threat. Instantly, I knew that this new hire would rob me of the years of experience I toiled over in this company to reach my position when you just got it in the blink of an eye.” As he was speaking, the line continued like a livewire of sensation down your arm, to the side of your torso, and finally rested on your waist “How dare you?” When he said this, he tugged at your waist and closed the already minimal distance between your lower bodies. You take in a sharp breath.

You dare not move any part of your body, but he continues. He leans in to whisper to your ear, “They say keep your friends close…and your enemies closer. So I did.”

You briefly close your eyes and remember your first days at this company. Chan was one of the first people who made you feel welcome with his warm smile and infectious laugh, accompanied you during lunch breaks, and taught you the ropes. But you could never forget the mornings in the pantry when both of you would wait together for the machine to churn out the freshly brewed coffee. You stood beside each other in silence when no more topics could be shared, and day by day the distance between the two of you grew smaller and smaller—until the backs of your hands could almost touch each other, until your pinky fingers could overlap when you both set your hands on the counter.

Chan’s voice broke your reverie when he said, “But why is it that when I got closer, you seemed less like an enemy…and more of something else?” His other hand moved from against the lockers to delicately cradle your neck while his lips moved from your ear to hover over your lips with the tips of your noses lightly touching.

You couldn’t control yourself anymore. Your hands move on their own accord, one holding onto his hand on your neck and the other fiddling with his collar as you grab on his silver necklace to pull him as close as you can.

Your open lips touch his and remain there, hovering in an unresolved kiss. You share each other’s breaths as they both quicken and you feel him against your thigh. He tightens his grip around your waist and pulls you in until there is no distance between your bodies. Your heartbeat is in your ears, ringing with desire and a rush of blood to your head.

“So who am I, Chan?” You say this against his lips. “Who am I?” You feel his hand on your neck pull you in and you briefly see his eyes flutter and close in anticipation.

In a brief moment of weakness, you consider giving in. But you kept a rational mind, and the bruise to your pride and ego was all it took to hold him tight and force yourself away from his cage. He stumbles and hits the lockers that brace his supposed fall. Chan looks at you with bewilderment and sexual frustration evident on his face.

You look back in confusion and with pain in your eyes, hoping they mirror the pang in your chest containing the pain and hurt that your professional self could never show. Maybe you could have shown it if things went differently, and maybe you could have shown it to him. But the cutthroat nature of your jobs would never allow it—he proved it in front of everyone earlier.

“Because I know who I am. And I am not someone you just play with and screw over.” You fight back the tears in your eyes. You could not show weakness, not now. “Suck it up. And play this game right.”

You fix your disheveled clothes and hair and turn your back to him, walking away from him and wishing you could do the exact opposite. But there was no other choice in this matter.

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hyewka · 2 years ago

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WHAT ABOUT SUB YEONJUN WHO CANF STOP WHINING AND WHIMPERING THAT YOU JUST HAD TO PUT A HAND OVER HIS MOUTH???

after party | c.yj

warnings: sub!yeonjun + mean dom!reader, virgin shaming, degradation kink, unprotected sex, overstimulation, sloppy and very dirty like this is filth, fucking in a bathroom, yeonjun's a snobby rich kid lol, jealous bsf!beomgyu, enemies to ???

the last thing you expected to come out of this party was for you to be in a dirty bathroom, giving choi yeonjun, who was leaned against the door, sitting down with his legs sprawled out, a fucking handjob. or at least, the closest thing to a handjob — palming his clothed dick.

choi yeonjun, the bitchiest rich kid on campus. the one who curated the worst reputation for you by spreading baseless rumors. all because you rejected his offer of partening up for a project.

can you even blame yourself for acting the way you did a few months ago? he practically had a reputation of his own, one that really boiled down to being a fuckboy who told girls to leave the moment he finished — he was that much of an asshole.

it was natural for you to assume he had ulterior motives when asking you to be partners...but you do kind of ...regret impulsively saying all of your buried thoughts out loud to his face.

it didn't help that there was already the typical hatred fostered towards stoner, broke kids getting into a prestigious college, you know—without getting the help of parents buying buildings for the institution.

people like yeonjun hated people like you to the core, is the point. so adding that interaction between you both — the interaction where you practically slut shamed him in a public setting, it was safe to say that you made one of the biggest mistakes in your life.

with a random rumor about you having chlamydia surfacing around the campus shortly after you rejected him, you knew that every misfortune after this incident would point back to yeonjun.

and you were right.

when you caught your then-boyfriend cheating on you at a frat party, asking him hurds of questions of the typical 'how could yous' and 'whys' he finally revealed that a mysterious "friend" had introduced him to a girl and like a thriller, you felt someone's eyes watching you, to which you looked behind you...finding none other than yeonjun, the cup he was drinking covering half his face, though it couldn't hide his shitting eating grin as he returned your eye contact for a good second before shifting his attention back to the group of people he surrounded himself with.

from that alone, you figured that you were fucked. there was even a point where you almost got your scholarship revoked because of an "anonymous" report incriminating you. though the anonymous person was never revealed even after countless meetings with the committee, you knew exactly who did it.

the fucking devil himself.

so, naturally, there was a sense of pride blooming in your chest at the indecency of your situation right now. there was no other way you could get revenge on the bitch especially with the power he holds. a smile naturally spread on your face as you notice the once small wet blob had quickly transformed into a big stain.

with the way yeonjun was squirming, as you pressed your flush against him, rapidly sliding your hand back and forth, you couldn't help but have a mocking smirk glued onto your face.

god he looks pathetic with tears on the brim of his waterline.

"y/n—" he whines with his eyes closed shut. which was new, you didn't even know he knew your name.

you decide to pull down the hems of his sweats to get easy access — pulling out his swollen dick roughly, fisting his shaft not paying mind to his red tip.

not expecting to feel warm spurts of cum in your hand so quickly, you stare at your hand puzzled.

you look back at him with a scoffing laugh escaping your mouth. "after, what, thirty seconds?"

"shut it stoner." he spat, his eyes now wide open, going back to his looking down on you agenda in a matter of a second.

you bite the inside of your cheeks at his snappiness.

did he have no shame? even after cumming basically the moment your hand felt up his dick?

you only let out a breathy laugh as you realized that your subconscious just won't allow yourself to leave the bathroom until you break that stupid confidence of his.

not until he loses every ounce of dignity he thinks he has.

you were situated between his legs on your knees, pressing up against his now softened dick, nearing his face. "wanna fuck?" you whisper in his ear.

with the proximity, it was a given you could manage to pick up a gulp from yeonjun's side, so in response to his silence, you lewdly nibble on his lobe, which elicits a closed whimper from yeonjun.

you move away from him immediately, standing up to turn to the bathroom sink, which gets a groan from the boy, "where are the condoms?" you ask, opening the bathroom cabinet in search for the packet.

once again, it falls quiet.

you're not appreciating his lack of responses. at all.

"yeonjun, we won't fuck if you don't tell me where the condoms are." you say mindlessly, your eyes still wandering inside the dark vanity.

again, it was silent.

you turn around to the boy, your eyes quickly glancing down to see that his pretty cock was hard again. what a pathetic whore. you fold your arms, sighing. "i'm not trying to actually contract chlamydia."

his eyes comically turn wide, like a kid accused of stealing candy. "you won't!" he immediately shouts, which takes you aback.

you scoff shortly after. did he think you were an idiot?

"you've slept with practically every girl on campus, are you serious?" you say, laughing as you went back to your search for condoms, now searching inside the drawers of the sink.

"i..i've never slept with anyone." it was a mumble, a very quiet mumble at that, but your ears perk up as they process what he just said, your hands freezing.

you turn around with a puzzled look, no, an extremely perplexed one. "what?"

he bites down on his lip as he shyly avoids eye contact, huffing.

that's when it finally clicked.

"you can't tell anyone! i swear to god i'm going to—i'm going to make your life a living hell if you do!" it wasn't like he was bluffing, he was more than capable. but unfortunately for him, you don't react to his childish threat, instead, a slow smile forms on your lips as you piece everything together.

the way he came prematurely, his whimpers, his heavy breathing whenever you'd press your flush against him, the tears for something as simple as rubbing his dick through his pants...

choi yeonjun was a virign.

you bend down on your knees, a pointed finger on his forehead as you tilted your head looking at yeonjun like he was a prey you've been wanting to hunt. you could say anything now, ridicule to your heart's desire, and destroy every ounce of ego he had.

all of that sounded fun, sure, but you wanted to have the real fun first.

"strip." you simply say. yeonjun looks at you with wide eyes, then clears his throat, still holding eye contact with you. "you can't...you can't just order me like that. i'm the man here."

you scoff incredulously—god he was annoying. "you know, i should be the one worrying about catching anything. i don't want my first time to get me chlamydia." he nervously blabbers.

you roll your eyes. "i know you spread the rumor virgin." you say feeling yourself get angry, spitting the nickname venomously, making him shift a little, dropping the eye contact, to the floor.

your gaze falls to his dick once more, and you just can't control the way you feel yourself wanting to milk it dry, make him so overstimulated he'd just end up laying on the bathroom's floor, people seeing him fucked out like the dirty bitch he was.

"are we going to fuck or is the little virgin scared?" you mock with a pout which successfully gets him to look at you again, sending you a scowl.

he found that he could later excuse this behavior by saying he was taunted and not admit that he was a rabid dog wanting to get his dick inside a pussy for once, so he kisses you, roughly crashing his lips onto yours, standing up to have the advantage of being taller again — at least this time he wasn't under you.

he manages to pin you against the door, that is being knocked on from the other end — which you both only ignore. his dick pressing against your tummy, then your hand once again, grabbing his dick, wasting no time to rapidly go back and forth on his length, the boy in turn slipping whimpers into the kiss.

your eyes shoot wide open despite your horniness, remembering who you were about to fuck. you pull away from the kiss, which prompts for yeonjun to blindly chase your lips again until you stop him with a finger. "if we're going to fuck, no more kissing."

he opens his eyes, groaning. "what kind of shitty rule is that?"

"do you want to go another minute of being a pathetic virgin yeonjun? is that what i'm hearing?"

he shakes his head, brows furrowed.

"then do what i say." you say. yeonjun gulps as you pull down his sweats all the way to his ankles. "take them off."

he glares at you, feeling his cheeks burn as he reluctantly followed your orders like a pet.

"what now?" he asks anyway.

you reach a little under your miniskirt, pulling down your panties, dropping on the floor. you then pull him closer to you, managing to easily wrap your legs around his waist, stabilizing yourself against the door by laying your arms on his shoulders. "now you fuck me choi."

he has a few failed attempts, trying to find your entrance, which you should've guessed would've been a problem, but eventually, you're caught off guard as you gasp, his tip hitting your cunt.

"is—is this it?" he shakily asks with big eyes.

your thumb for a second softly glazes around his features, and fuck you just realize how he pretty he was, taking in the perfection before you finally nod. yeonjun buries his head in your neck, his breath quickening as he pushes in.

"hey, don't go too fast virgin, i don't want your dirty cum inside me." you instruct like you were scolding a dog to not hump someone's leg. but yeonjun doesn't seem to be able to hear anything as he frantically fucks into you, moaning curses over and over again.

"y/n—" he shrieks into the crook of your neck, and you curse internally as you feel his hot cum fill you up anyway. your hand goes to the back of his head, grabbing a fitsful of his hair to pull him away from your neck, revealing his mouth that leaked drool, and his hot streams of tears that were out of humiliation . "i told you to not fucking cum inside me." you spit.

he can't even form a proper sentence as he hiccups, trying to apologize — you tilt your head at the sight, never once dreaming of the moment you'd yeonjun looking like this, apologizing.

you guessed the overstimulation got to his head.

"pull out." you interject coldly between his sobs. and he does, a squelching sound coming out in response. you carefully try to get on your own feet again, then unwrap your hands from his neck.

you use your finger that was now on his chest to push him down. "i can't just let you cum and go, i need my fill too." you say as he just cowers down, finally on an opposing wall, slowly dropping on his ass. "you're so filthy." you lowly grunt, which earns a whimper from yeonjun, his dick standing up right for the third time.

you take a minute to stare him down—it gave you a high, the guy who's been tormenting you for the past few months was sitting on a bathrooms floor, bare, his face messily wet and his lips swollen red, his eyes looking up at you like you had the power to either break him or...

you waste no time to sit on his cock, earning a half shriek, half scream from yeonjun in response to the sudden hot contact that was your pussy, his eyes rolled to the back and his mouth stupidly hung open when you ruthlessly bounce on his cock.

you don't let him shooting his load into you distract you from trying to achieve your orgasm. yeonjun had long been fucked dumb, but his hips still buckle into you every now and then, desperately trying to hit your cervix, like an animal.

he moans your name over and over again—especially when your hand go under his shirt, squeezing his nipples—like it was the only word he knew. unfortunately, the knocks on the door earlier get louder.

"are you guys fucking in there!?!" you hear someone yell and you curse, immediately shoving your hand over yeonjun's mouth in attempt to restrict his sloppy moans, still moving up and down, biting down on your bottom lip as you feel your pussy clamping down on his dick.

as the knocks get louder and louder, your speed gets faster, nearing your orgasm. yeonjun has his eyes half open, looking at you through his wet lashes—he was out.

finally, when you feel yeonjun's hot spring of cum for the fourth time now, you get your own orgasm in sync, exhaling exhausted as you slowly removed your now, wet hand, from yeonjun's mouth.

"clean yourself up, i'm leaving." you say, getting up, his dick slipping out, flopping down, coated in cum.

when he doesn't respond, you roll your eyes, walking over to to get toilet paper, patting your thighs then cleaning up your leaking as much as you could. you finally get to your underwears, pulling them over your leg.

you quickly look in the mirror, trying your best to fix your look up by running through your messy hair and wiping your lipstick off completely.

then you take a quick look at the boy who was sprawled on the floor, dazed, sweat making his once shiny tamed hair, stick to his face. did you push the virgin too far off the edge? you almost felt yourself feeling bad until you once again, realized who he was—choi yeonjun. you then shrug, he can handle himself. or maybe not, who gives a fuck.

when you turn the knob slightly, automatically unlocking the door in the process, you peek your head out, trying to see if anyone was out in the hallway anymore. no one was, so you open it a little more, giving you more wiggle room to get out. until you feel a hand grabbing your ankle, making you shoot your head back.

yeonjun.

"we doing this again?" he asks, his brows furrowed up, like he was pleading.

you scoff. "what? like fucking?"

"yeah."

you give him a tight lipped smile. "we'll see choi. now get your hand off me."

he rolls his eyes, obeying.

finally you get out of the bathroom, shutting the door behind you, into the blasting music that you so outwardly despised.

what you don't expect is to so quickly bump into your best friend, the one who got invited to the party and decided to bring you over with him—beomgyu.

"yo, where were you?" he breathed out, looking like he ran a marathon. then his eyes quickly scanned your state—messy hair, makeup completely ruined, a few buttons of your crop top missing, your chest falling up and down. "what happened?" he finally asks when he sees the purple bruises on a side of your neck.

you only shake your head slightly, still out of breath, dismissing the boy with a hand who was now looking like a kicked puppy, as you walk past him and back into where the party was, under the impression beomgyu was following closely behind.

the bathroom click, a sound that indicated its unlocking, grabs beomgyu's attention from his plan to fester you more about what you were doing, his head turning slightly to see a disgruntled figure going out in the hallway, running a hand through their hair—choi yeonjun?

beomgyu's expression turns a little grim when he notices that yeonjun was in the same, or to be fair, an even worse state.

he feels his jaw tick a little, as he turns away, rolling his eyes; he got his answer.

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sayruq · 7 months ago

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GAZA CITY, Palestinian Territories: Emergency doctor Amjad Alewah once saved lives at Al-Shifa hospital, the largest medical facility in the Gaza Strip. But after 200 days of war between Israel and Hamas militants, he now stands in its ruins. “We are now in the middle of the rubble of this great hospital,” Alewah, who returned to inspect the now charred emergency reception room, told AFP. Following the outbreak of war, Al-Shifa became a safe haven for the thousands injured or fleeing the Israeli onslaught on the Palestinian territory. “Every day, we received thousands of wounded,” he said, recalling having to work without enough medical equipment or fuel for electric generators. “We had picked up the habit of spending all our time here, as if it was our main residence.” But war came to Al-Shifa, with Israel launching multiple raids on the medical facility after accusing militants of operating a command center from tunnels below.

“Hospitals are entitled to very special protection under international humanitarian law,” [UN Human Rights Chief Volker Turk] said. Alewah said he was saddened by the destruction of a “cornerstone of health for the whole north of the Gaza Strip,” calling on the international community and World Health Organization (WHO), which visited Al-Shifa to assess damages, to help rebuild. “We’re lacking operating theaters to treat patients, particularly patients on dialysis or those with heart conditions.” A rehabilitation medical committee has already been put in place, its head, Marwan Abu Saada told AFP, adding that they were working on building an emergency department in another part of the hospital complex. “We will not lose hope,” he repeated, despite acknowledging the difficulty of the task at hand.

#yemen #jerusalem #tel aviv #current events #palestine #free palestine #gaza #free gaza #news on gaza #palestine news #news update #war news #war on gaza #hospitals #al shifa hospital #gaza genocide #genocide #war crimes #palestinian doctors

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miss-hyoko · 2 years ago

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I just came back from prom night, it was a disaster. Can you make some happy prom hc with Riddle and Mallues please. Tysm in advance.

"I apologize for making you wait, dear customer. This is your order, a [Prom Night] gado-gado. Hopefully, the taste is to your liking. Enjoy."

Prom Night

Character(s): Riddle and Malleus

Summary: You're going to prom night with him

Tag(s) and warning(s): GN!Reader, fluff, platonic but can be read as romantic, one-sided crush from the boys to make it more cute

Note: Oh dear, I'm sorry to hear that your prom night didn't go so well. Albeit late, I hope this hc can cheer you up. Psst, my prom night is also a disaster, so this is quite self-indulgent of me. Thank you for the request, anon 💕💞💕

1. Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle spends almost an entire week trying to figure out how to ask you to be his prom date. But facing you directly, his mind suddenly goes blank, and he ALMOST can't remember anything he had practiced beforehand. He make a small talk at first to calm himself before finally asking you to be his partner for the prom with a flushed face. Even though Riddle attempted to act calm, the way his lips lifted into a small relieved smile when you agreed to his invitation easily revealed his real feelings.

After knowing that you will be Riddle's partner for the prom night, Cater becomes very enthusiastic and tries to persuade Riddle into wearing couple outfits with you, making Riddle's face instantly turn bright red upon hearing that. While the idea itself is pretty intriguing for him, he doesn't want to force you to dress according to his style. After all, everyone has different tastes in clothes and you also want to look your best on prom night, right?

Although a bit stiff, Riddle's actually one of the best partners you could ask for. He will pick you up on time and even bring you back safely. Totally the "Yes sir, I'll bring them home by 7pm" type of a guy. And being a gentleman he is, Riddle won't leave you alone without informing you first or if you tell him that you want to enjoy some time with your friends.

When the music for the slow dance starts, Riddle comes up to you with cheeks slightly red and offers his hand to you: silently asking your permission for a dance. Riddle might appear strict, but he knew how to slow dance. And his dance skills are more than superb. With one hand on your waist and the other holding your hand, Riddle slowly guides you around the dance floor while occasionally spinning to the slow, rhythmic music.

Being a prom night organizing committee member, Riddle knew that at the end of the prom, there would be a grand fireworks show. Therefore, before the prom ended, he took you out of the hall to sit on a bench in the courtyard where fireworks would be seen clearly. Because it was night, Riddle draped his suit jacket over you so you wouldn't catch a cold. Sitting side by side, the two of you watch the fireworks blooming beautifully in the night sky.

2. Malleus Draconia

He probably didn't know there was a prom night until you asked him to be your partner on your daily midnight strolling. In front of you, he accepted your invitation with a nod and a low chuckle. But internally, Malleus' heart was already leaping with joy. When he returns to his dorm later, he goes directly to Lilia to tell him about the good news and then starts making a preparation for himself.

As soon as he heard from Lilia that prom dates usually wear matching outfits, Malleus immediately contacted you to ask whether you wanted to do it. If you agree to wear matching outfits, he won't hesitate to order new clothes for you to match the suits he will wear to the prom. Not only clothes, but Malleus also gives you jewelry and other accessories from his own treasury that he feels would suit you.

When he comes to pick you up, Malleus brings you a corsage/boutonnières of green roses covered with preservation magic to ensure they don't wither. It pairs well with the boutonnières he wears on the lapel of his jacket; it lets people know you two are a prom date with just one glance. After making sure that you were ready to go, Malleus offered his arm for you to hold and teleported you both right into the center of the hall. Arriving surrounded by green light, you two make the grandest entrance ever.

Being your prom date, Malleus never leaves your side unless you ask him to do so. When it's time to dance, Malleus will hold his hand to you with a small smile, inviting you to dance with him. Raised as a prince of the Briar Valley, Malleus is exceptional at dancing. With ease, he moved his body in a smooth motion, sliding across the dance floor so gracefully while holding you close.

After dancing with Malleus, everyone's attention in the hall immediately fell on you two. If their stares make you uncomfortable, Malleus will immediately take you out to take a breather, maybe to the woods behind the school or Ramshackle's backyard. Using his magic, Malleus summons fireflies to light up the surroundings, making it look like a scene from a fairy tale. There, the two of you will start dancing again to the sound of the night insects before returning to the hall for the rest of the event.

#disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst wonderland #twst x reader #twst imagines #riddle rosehearts #malleus draconia #riddle rosehearts x reader #malleus draconia x reader #riddle x reader #malleus x reader #gado-gado #🍽️_ordered #👀_anonymous

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awkward-tension-art · 5 months ago

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Puppet on a String Chp.1 (Fives x Reader)

As promised! Fives x reader! This one is gonna be more angst, so heads-up. This takes place pretty much directly after Darkness on Umbara, anyway, enjoy!

Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9. Chapter 10. Chapter 11. Epilogue

Mesh'la

CW: Fives x Reader, Reader is a medical practitioner, mentions of Umbara Arc, mentions of Pong Krell, Crying, Grief, details of severe injuries, Fives crying is his own warning, Hospital setting, medical talk, angst, swearing, brief interaction of 501st doctor

Minors DNI!

I found an anomaly.

That was the holo-message your friend and colleague sent you with no context. The network of medical personnel in the GAR would often get vague messages from the 501st field surgeon. At this point, you were used to that medic sending incomprehensible half sentences and unexplained data.

Nonsense was standard with the 501st soldiers. Their doctor was no different.

You’d know. You were in a relationship with an ARC trooper that originated in the 501st.

Oh Fives…

His own messages were concerning. Apparently Umbara was a disaster. One of the Jedi Generals had turned out to be a traitor, killing so many of the 501st they lost one third of their numbers.

You weren’t in the army, so you didn’t work with the Jedi very much. You were a medical practitioner assisting a neurologist in the Grand Republic Medical Facility. Since the war began you tried to shift your focus to tend to wounded military personnel, but your time was limited due to your other obligation.

You were on the Ethics Committee that often bounced between Kamino and Coruscant. It was established shortly after the war began, and the clones became known to the Jedi. General Shaak Ti had established the committee, hand selecting doctors, nurses and scientists to make sure clone testing was safe and ethical.

Your supervisor was chosen and she had opted for you to represent her. Something you thanked her for some days, and hated her for other days.

Your thoughts were interrupted, the 501st doctor sent another message. This one was the context you were looking for.

Used Umbaran scanner. Found something strange in every clone's brain.

What?

How could an Umbaran scanner find something nothing at the GRMF had seen before?

Attached to the message were scans. Images of clone heads, giving an internal view of the neural activity. You had to admit, that scanner was thorough. You could see the different levels of neurotransmitters. Levels of sleep. Levels of stress. Even going so far to tell neuro-response time.

It was fascinating. Despite being clones, all of them had different reads. They were all unique, with their own different personalities and individuality.

One of the scans, Hardcase, had an overactive prefrontal cortex. Must be a hyperactive clone.

Another one, Jesse, had activation in the midbrain and nucleus accumbens. He must have been focusing on something when the scan was taken.

Curiously, one scan, Dogma, had readings of heightened anxiety.

However, despite these differences, there was one repeating feature.

ANOMALY: right orbital floor, parietal and temporal intersection

It looked like a tumor of some type. Or a lesion. Was it a clone thing?

There was a scan of Fives and you checked his status. He too had that unknown abnormality.

Questions ran through your mind. What was this? Was this benign? Did this have the potential to cause problems later? Was this tied to the clones' genetic data?

You continued to stare at the holo-message and scans. Another one popped up, this one from the director of the medical facility, followed by an announcement.

Code Green. External Triage. 501st. 212th. 7th Sky.

That's…a lot more than normal. Those were the battalions returning from Umbara. Taking that planet must’ve been chaotic, more so than what Fives had told you.

You drank the last of your caf and stood from your desk.

You had work to do.

Your steps through the metal, sterile halls were quick as you met several of your fellow doctors on the landing pad. Already ships were dropping off the injured that survived Umbara.

“Fly solo.” Your supervisor nodded as she handed you a datapad with patient information. Without another word, she rushed out to the ships as they unloaded patients.

With a breath, you focused.

Designation: CT-9821 “Rusty”

Assignment: 501st Legion

Information: Scans indicated broken ribs and full body burns.

You typed quickly, getting Rusty handled as swiftly as you could. Luckily, the GRMF had a system in place. Once you typed a command, the medical droids would follow through with the treatment.

Treatment: Stabilize ribs, treat burns with bacta tank. Will reassess after 12 hours.

You looked up, seeing the 501st field surgeon on top of another soldier being carried on a stretcher. Their hands were on the trooper's chest, bleeding profusely. The doctor looked at you, “He ripped out his own sutures!”

“On it!” You nodded, getting to the hover stretcher and leading them inside and to a trauma room to properly suture, disinfect and deal with the wound. You needed to get the bleeding under control, that was priority. Once you began, you looked to the 501st doctor again, “You did your job and you did it well. Wash your hands and get some caf.”

The purpose of the medics and field surgeons in the army was to keep the men alive until they could get more surgical and intensive care such as on their venator ship. But with high numbers after every battle, especially now, those medical bays could only do so much.

Which is when you and the medical facility would be the final destination. The priority was to save the lives that managed to hold on that long with such limited care. From there, once they were under proper life saving measures, everyone else would be cared for with better medical supplies. Wounds treated on the field would be double checked, infections would be treated, and bandages would be changed.

The doctor shook their head, heading back out to help their men. Someone else in the GRMF would grab them and force them to sit down. As you didn’t miss their bandaged and braced arm.

Damn workaholic, you thought, though, truthfully, you’d probably be the same if you were in their shoes. You might even be worse off, since you didn’t have the mental strength to be on the field like them.

No, you always struggled if you lost a patient. Having someone die under your care always left a permanent scar.

Once the clone was under the effects of painkillers and sedatives, you gave the suture work to one of the medical droids. You had other patients, and frankly, the droids could be more precise in their stitches.

You got back out, and checked another soldier.

Designation: ARF-5798 “Ink”

Assignment: 501st Legion

Information: Burst fracture of T7 through T11, broken left femur, shattered right ilium

By all the gods in the galaxy, what the hell happened on Umbara?!

Treatment: Intensive care ASAP, immediate surgery to correct spinal cord, pain management, will assess nerve damage when stabilized

With 3 battalions, all injured to some degree, the medical facility was on the verge of being overwhelmed.

Your focus went razor sharp. All you knew now were the injured who needed help. You weren’t a soldier but this was your battlefield.

It was hours later when the hospital gave the announcement.

Code Clear. Resume normal duties.

The medical facility gave a heavy sigh in relief. You looked at the datapad in your hands as you walked through the hall, so far, none of the records have been updated with deaths. Either everyone critical managed to pull through, or no one had filled in the data yet…

You hoped for the former.

“Mesh’la…” You whirled around at the sound of a trembling voice, nearly dropping your datapad.

Fives was standing in the hallway, helmet off and looking so…so broken.

He had always been an emotional trooper, and he didn’t hide it. Something you adored about him. And right now, he was on the verge of a breakdown.

You looked around quickly before getting to his side and grabbing his hand. Wordlessly, you took him into one of the medical facility supply rooms and locked the door.

“Oh Fives…” you held his face in your hands, looking into his tear filled eyes, “It’s alright now, Fives…”

He shook his head, letting his tears fall, “so many of us…gone…”

Immediately you wrapped your arms around him, shushing him softly.

Fives’ armored hands gripped the back of your lab coat tightly as he sobbed. You shifted, resting his head against your shoulder to let him cry out his emotions. You swayed slightly in hopes to calm him. Your lover was in a fragile state, and he needed someone to help him out of it….

“Fives…” You murmured his name softly, “You’re safe now, ok?”

“N-no…Hardcase…My plan had-” He choked out, falling into more weeping. Your lover was incomprehensible.

Hardcase…a trooper most likely. A friend that he hasn’t mentioned?

“Fives…?”

“He nearly executed me!” He jerked back, holding your arms. His tan cheeks were marked with heavy tears, and his eyes were bloodshot, “Krell betrayed us and he was the one who ordered me and Jesse to be executed!”

The horror was clear on your face, “Fives…” You held his face again, using his thumbs to wipe away his tears, “What happened on Umbara? Talk to me, breathe and talk to me…” He stared at you and, through his tears, told you everything.

#star wars x reader #tcw x reader #arc trooper fives x reader #fives x reader #arc trooper fives #the clone wars x reader #star wars tcw #star wars the clone wars #reader insert #Puppet on a String

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politijohn · 2 years ago

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Anti-Trans Legislation: Feb 25-Mar 3 in Review

The following bills were introduced:

Two schooling bills, Florida S1320 and H1223, were pre-filed.

Georgia HB653, an under-18 healthcare ban, was introduced.

Iowa HSB208, a school-based bathroom bill, was introduced and passed in its subcommittee.

Iowa HB482, a school-based bathroom bill, was introduced and referred to the House Judiciary Committee.

Iowa HSB214, an under-18 healthcare ban, was introduced and had a House subcommittee hearing.

Iowa SSB1197, an under-18 healthcare ban, was introduced and had a subcommittee meeting.

Iowa HJR8 was introduced and referred to the House Judiciary Committee. This is a joint resolution attacking marriage.

Iowa HSB222, a schooling/parental rights bill, was introduced and referred to the House Education Committee yesterday.

Maine LD930, a sports ban bill that specifically targets trans girls, was introduced and referred to the Joint Judiciary Committee.

Missouri HB1332, a tax bill that would punish institutions for providing gender-affirming healthcare, was introduced and read.

Missouri HB1364, a drag ban bill, was introduced and read for a second time.

Ohio HB68, a "SAFE" act, was introduced and referred to the House Public Health Policy Committee.

Texas HB2862 and HB3147 were filed. These prison bills would prohibit incarcerated trans and gender diverse folks from being housed in facilities consistent with their gender identity.

The following bills progressed:

Bathroom bills: (A bathroom bill denies access to public restrooms by gender or trans identity. They increase danger without making anyone any safer and have even prompted attacks on cis and trans people alike. Many national health and anti-sexual assault organizations oppose these bills.)

Arizona SB1040, a school-based bathroom bill, passed in the Senate and crossed over to the House.

Arkansas SB270, which would make it “criminal indecency with a child” for trans folks to use bathrooms consistent with their gender identity, was re-referred to the Senate Judiciary Committee.

Idaho SB1100, a school-based bathroom bill, had a second reading and was filed for a third reading.

Idaho S1016, which already passed in the Senate, had its first reading in the House and was scheduled for a second reading.

Iowa SF335, a school-based bathroom bill, passed committee and renumbered as SF482.

Heathcare bills: (Healthcare bills go against professional and scientific consensus that gender-affirming care saves lives. Denying access will cause harm. Providers are faced with criminal charges, parents are threatened with child abuse charges, and intersex children are typically exempted.)

Florida S0952, the “Reverse Woke Act,” was referred to the Senate Health Policy Committee.

Georgia SB140, an under-18 healthcare ban, had a second reading.

Indiana SB0480, an under-18 healthcare ban, passed in the Senate and crossed over to the House.

Kansas SB233, which already passed in the Senate, was referred to the House Health and Human Services Committee. This is also an under-18 healthcare ban.

Nebraska LB574, again an under-18 healthcare ban, was placed on general file, meaning it is now on the floor.

Oklahoma SB129 passed in committee and will head to the Senate floor. A reminder that this bill had an emergency added, so it would immediately go into effect if it passes.

Texas HB776, an abortion and under-18 healthcare ban, was referred to the House Public Health Committee.

Utah HB0132 returned to committee yesterday after it failed in committee in January. This is also an under-18 bill.

Public performance bills: (also known as "drag bans" restrict access for folks who are gender non-conforming in any way. They loosely define "drag" as any public performance with an “opposite gender expression,” as sexual in nature, and inappropriate for children. This also pushes trans individuals out of public spaces.)

Arizona SB1698 passed in committee and is headed to the Senate.

Arkansas SB43 was signed by the Governor. This is the drag ban bill that was largely amended to only cover public nudity.

Montana HB359, which already passed in the House, had its first reading in the Senate.

Oklahoma SB503, an obscenity bill, passed in committee.

South Dakota HB1116 an "obscenity bill" that prohibits "lewd or lascivious content," which already passed in the House, passed in committee.

Tennessee SB0841 had its action deferred until 3/14.

Texas HB708 was referred to the House State Affairs Committee.

Schooling bills: (Schooling, or so called “parental rights” bills force schools to misgender or deadname students, ban instruction on sexual orientation and gender identity, and make schools alert parents if they suspect a child is trans. They remove life-saving affirmation and support for trans youth.)

Arizona SB1001 passed in the Senate and was transmitted to the House.

Arkansas SB294 is headed to its final vote in the House.

Florida H1069 was sent to another education subcommittee in the House.

Indiana HB1608 passed in the House and crossed over to the Senate where its first reading is scheduled for Monday.

Iowa HSB222 passed in its subcommittee.

Missouri HB1258 had a second reading.

Oklahoma SB503 passed in committee this morning and is headed to the Senate floor.

Tennessee HB1269 was referred to the House Finance, Ways, & Means Committee.

Utah SB0283, an anti-DEI bill for higher education, passed in its Senate Revenue and Taxation Hearing and is now headed to its second committee.

Sex designation bills: (Sex designation bills make it harder for trans folks to have IDs, such as birth certificates, that match their gender identity. They can force a male or female designation based upon sex assigned at birth. Some ban a non-binary “X” marker or require surgery to qualify for ID updates.)

Montana SB458,passed in committee and will head to the Senate floor.

Tennessee SB1440 passed in committee and will head to the Senate floor.

Sports ban bills: (Most sports bills force schools to designate teams by sex assigned at birth. They are often one-sided and ban trans girls from playing on teams consistent with their gender identity. Some egregious bills even force invasive genital examinations on student athletes.)

Arkansas HB1156 was re-referred to the Senate Education Committee.

Florida H0999 was sent to another education subcommittee.

Wyoming SF0133, which already passed in the House, passed in the Senate and will now head to the Governor for signature.

Other anti-trans bills:

Kentucky HB470 passed in committee. This bill defies our categorization system; it's a healthcare bill, but also functions as a bathroom, sports, name change, and a sex designation bill; it packages anything attacking trans youth. A live-tweet of the hearing is here, as can the many Kentucky residents who testified against it.

West Virginia HB3042, a “religious freedom” bill, passed in the Senate and is headed to the Governor for signature.

Texas SB559, a “religious freedom” bill, passed in committee and will head to the Senate floor.

#important #anti trans legislation #trans lives matter #trans #trans lives #lgbt #lgbtq #lgbtq rights #equality #discrimination #bigotry #politics #us politics #current events #news

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marveltrumpshate · 1 month ago

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Civil Rights Advocacy & Litigation

Since there is no Avengers Initiative working to physically fight our way to a more equitable world, we have to rely frequently on advocacy, public education, and litigation to bend the arc of the work more quickly towards justice. If this is your personal charitable focus, you have a lot of options to choose from, from organizations working on systemic change for marginalized populations to those focusing on freeing individuals from the prison industrial complex and defeating censorship.

For more information on donation methods and accepted currencies, please refer to our list of organizations page.

Autistic Self Advocacy Network

The Autistic Self Advocacy Network seeks to advance the principles of the disability rights movement with regard to autism. ASAN believes that the goal of autism advocacy should be a world in which autistic people enjoy equal access, rights, and opportunities and have their voices heard. For that reason, the organization is run by individuals on the autism spectrum. ASAN's primary focuses are advocating for policies that protect disability and civil rights, creating tools and leadership training for autistic self-advocates, and offering educational resources.

The Bail Project

In their own words, “The Bail Project, Inc. is an unprecedented effort to combat mass incarceration at the front end of the system. We pay bail for people in need, reuniting families and restoring the presumption of innocence. Because bail is returned at the end of a case, donations to The Bail Project™ National Revolving Bail Fund can be recycled and reused to pay bail two to three times per year, maximizing the impact of every dollar. 100% of online donations are used to bring people home.”

The financial burden that bail places upon many arrestees means that they stay in the system disproportionately longer than necessary, disrupting their economic options and personal stability. This is particularly true if they’re poor and/or people of color. To fight bail and provide pretrial support is to fight mass incarceration and the racial and economic disparities of the bail system in the United States.

Center for Reproductive Rights

The Center for Reproductive Rights is the only global legal advocacy organization dedicated to ensuring reproductive rights are protected in law as fundamental human rights for the dignity, equality, health, and well-being of every person. With local partners across five continents, they have secured legal victories before national courts, UN Committees, and regional human rights bodies on issues such as access to life-saving obstetrics care, contraception, maternal health, and safe abortion services and the prevention of forced sterilization and child marriage.

Disability Rights Education & Defense Fund

DREDF is the leading civil rights organization in the United States that fights for and is directed by people with disabilities and parents of children with disabilities. Not only does DREDF work directly with their clients to help them know their own rights, but they train and educate lawyers, lawmakers, and other societal gatekeepers to make sure they know those rights as well.

Electronic Freedom Foundation

The leading nonprofit defending civil liberties in digital spaces, EFF champions user privacy, free expression, and innovation through impact litigation, policy analysis, grassroots activism, and technology development. They fight against online censorship and illegal surveillance, advocate for net neutrality and data protection, and more so that technology supports freedom, justice, and innovation for everyone.

Innocence Project

The mission of the Innocence Project is deceptively simple: exonerate those who have been wrongly convicted through the use of DNA evidence. The reality of it involves much broader strokes covering support for exonerees rebuilding their lives post-release and criminal justice reform through targeted litigation and the implementation of laws to prevent wrongful conviction. They strive to restore freedom for the innocent, transform the systems responsible for unjust incarceration, and advance the freedom movement.

Native American Rights Fund

NARF is the oldest and largest nonprofit that defends Native American rights and provides legal assistance to Native American tribes, organizations, and individuals across the U.S. They concentrate on issues such as tribal sovereignty, land rights and treaty compliance, tribal natural resource protection, education on Native American human rights, and more.

Refugee and Immigrant Center for Education and Legal Services (RAICES)

Most known for their work on the Texas/Mexico border but operating on the national frontlines of the fight for immigration rights, RAICES provides free and low-cost legal services, bond assistance, and social programs to underserved immigrant children, families, and refugees. Among their many accomplishments, RAICES established the largest bond fund in the U.S., which they use to secure the release of individuals from ICE detention, and has more immigration lawyers than any other organization in Texas. These lawyers represent individuals, including children, in court, offer residency and citizenship services, assist asylum seekers, and deal with removal defense. RAICES also offers social services ranging from case management and resettlement assistance to a national hotline connecting migrants with local community resources and transit support for recently released migrants.

Southern Poverty Law Center

They’re mostly known in the U.S. as a hate group watchdog of sorts, but their work goes beyond tracking and exposing hate groups and promoting tolerance education programs. SPLC fights for voting rights advocacy, children’s rights, immigration reform and family reunification, LGBTQ+ rights, economic justice, and criminal justice reform. They work “with communities to dismantle white supremacy, strengthen intersectional movements, and advance the human rights of all people.” Essentially, if there is injustice against a vulnerable and/or marginalized group in the U.S., SPLC aims to address and fix it.

Transgender Law Center

Transgender Law Center, the largest trans-specific and trans-led organization in the U.S., changes law, policy, and attitudes so that all people can live safely and authentically and free from discrimination regardless of their gender identity or expression. Through its precedent-setting litigation victories and community-driven programs, TLC protects the rights of transgender and gender nonconforming people in areas spanning employment, prison conditions, education, immigration, healthcare, and more.

#marvel trumps hate #mth 2024 #charity spotlight

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harrywavycurly · 1 year ago

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Walk in the Park Part 1: Welcome Home

Masterlist: here

A/N: I hope y’all enjoy this and please don’t ask where her name came from it took me ages to think of it😂✨

*Eddie doesn’t quite know what to think of you and that’s perfectly fine with you*

“Hey,” Eddie jumps slightly at the sound of your voice shouting at him from the end of his driveway. “Sorry didn’t meant to scare you, I’m just here to welcome you to the neighborhood.” You explain as you give him a small wave, he places the box that was in his hands down by his feet so he can return the gesture.

“Thanks.” You just smile as you take a few steps closer so you can bend down and grab the box at his feet and before he can even begin to protest you’re already headed for his front door. “I’m Eddie.” He says introducing himself to you as he follows you into house. “You don’t have to do that.” You just ignore him as you place the box on the counter in the small kitchen.

“Actually I do because I’m not only the welcoming committee I’m also the moving help.” You take a look around the kitchen to make sure everything looks good and you roll your eyes when you see a flower shaped air freshener sitting by the oven. “Sorry Gina must’ve forgotten to take this when she moved out.” You mumble as you reach over and snatch it so you can place it in your pocket.

“Uh that’s actually mine.” You feel your cheeks get hot as you look at Eddie who’s rubbing the back of his neck and looking everywhere but at you. You silently thank him for letting you avoid the awkward eye contact. “My daughter picked it out she said it’ll make the kitchen pretty.” You just nod your head as you put it back on the counter.

“She has great taste it does add a certain level of sophisticated beauty to this otherwise kinda sad looking kitchen” Eddie chuckles as he sneaks a look at you while you have your head turned so you can check to make sure the microwave works. He can tell by the way you have a set of keys hanging from your belt loop that you must work for the community in some way. “So you have me for two hours and then I have to go check on Fred who lives three houses down from you and he’s a great guy if you ever need to borrow a bottle of whiskey or two.” Eddie doesn’t know how to respond to you so he just nods his head and gives you a tight lipped smile, you realize that he must have no clue what you’re talking about so you just turn so you’re facing him and look him right in the eyes.

“I’ll give you the run down on who to avoid and who to befriend if you’d like?” Eddie just shrugs as he moves the box on the counter to make room for a few more that he knows are in the back of his van.

“Okay.” You smile and head out of the kitchen and out the front door to grab another box while Eddie rushes after you.

“Let’s start with Fred he’s on both lists because with him it depends on his mood but for the most part he’s harmless.” You explain as you grab a small box that has the name Alison on it. “Where’s this going?” Eddie looks at the name on the box and you don’t miss how his face sort of lights up as he takes it from you.

“Sorry these are her most prized possessions and I swore I’d put then in a safe spot until she’s here to unpack it.” He explains with a small smile and you just nod as you grab another box.

“Love a man that keeps his promises.” Eddie just laughs and you can tell by the sound of it that it’s genuine and that makes you smile because so far you were certain he was righting you off as the nosey neighborhood weirdo. You follow him back into the house and place the box next to the first one you brought in, on the kitchen counter while he goes down the hall and turns into the spare bedroom across the hall from the master.

“So who’s on the list of people to avoid?” Eddie asks as he enters the kitchen you turn just in time to watch him put his long hair into a messy bun on the top of his head, a sight you’re very glad you got to witness because it gave you the opportunity to see a few tattoos on his lower hip peeking out from the bottom of his tank top.

“Ah that’s my favorite list.” You joke making Eddie raise an eyebrow as you head back out to the van to get more boxes. “The one who tops it all is Lisa in lot ten she is meaner than a junk yard dog.” Eddie looks down the street to see if he can get a look at Lisa’s front yard from his driveway. “She doesn’t ever leave her house unless it’s to sit on her porch and yell at people, her sons come visit every week and they are sweethearts.” You add and Eddie feels himself blush when he looks over and sees you bent over reaching for a box that’s towards the front of the van, he’s quick to look away when you finally get a hold of it.

“How do you know all this?” He asks as he takes the box out of your hands so you can grab another one.

“Oh it’s a perk of running the place.” Eddie feels his eyes widen as he realizes you’re the one he’s been emailing for the last month setting this place up for him and his little girl. “It’s nice to finally meet you by the way.” You add and Eddie just nods as you walk past him and into the house.

“Likewise.” He mumbles as he tries to mentally go through all the things he’s said to you over the past month hoping none of it was too embarrassing or weird. He takes a moment to himself standing in the middle of his driveway as he looks at the trailer hoping he’s making the right choice, he knows they need a fresh start but he just hopes Alison’s happy here because for right now that’s all he cares about.

#walk in the park series #dad!eddie munson #single!dad eddie munson #eddie munson series #eddie munson au #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you fluff #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things au #eddie munson #my little dungeon master baby

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silicacid · 1 year ago

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Al Jazeera journalist Samer Abudaqa killed in Israeli attack in Gaza

Al Jazeera Arabic journalist Samer Abudaqa has been killed and his colleague Wael Dahdouh was wounded in an Israeli attack in Khan Younis, southern Gaza.

Cameraman Abudaqa and correspondent Dahdouh were reporting at Farhana school in Khan Younis when they were hit by an Israeli strike on Friday.

Rescue teams were unable to immediately reach Abudaqa and others at the site due to Israeli bombardment.

“Rescuers just managed to retrieve the cameraman Samer Abudaqa’s body,” a spokesperson for the media network said.

Dahdouh was hit by shrapnel on his upper arm, and managed to reach Nasser hospital where he was treated for minor injuries.

Witnesses said earlier there was heavy shelling in the area around the school.

Wael Dahdouh says the network’s crew was accompanying civil defence rescuers on a mission to evacuate a family after its home was bombed.

“We captured the devastating destruction and reached places that had not been reached by any camera lens since the Israeli ground operation started,” Dahdouh said from his hospital bed.

As the Al Jazeera journalists were heading back on foot because the areas were not accessible by car, Dahdouh said “something big” happened that knocked him to the ground.

After the explosion, Dahdouh said he pressed on his wounds and walked out of the area to get help, but by the time he reached an ambulance, medics said they could not return to the site of the attack because it was too dangerous.

Subsequent efforts to coordinate a safe passage to send rescuers for Abudaqa were delayed, Dahdouh said, adding that one ambulance that tried to reach the cameraman came under fire.

Many Palestinians from the central and northern parts of Gaza have sought shelter in Khan Younis since the war began in October. Many have now been pushed further south towards the strip’s southernmost city of Rafah after Israel intensified its military operations in Khan Younis.

The attack comes amid violent clashes between Palestinian fighters and the Israeli army in locations across Gaza. Residents reported fighting in Shujayea, Sheikh Radwan, Zeitoun, Tuffah, and Beit Hanoon in north Gaza, east of Maghazi in central Gaza and in the centre and northern fringes of Khan Younis, according to the Reuters news service.

The Al Jazeera Media Network condemned the attack and extended its condolences to Abudaqa’s family in Gaza and Belgium.

“The Network holds Israel accountable for systematically targeting and killing Al Jazeera journalists and their families,” a statement read.

“In today’s bombing in Khan Younis, Israeli drones fired missiles at a school where civilians sought refuge, resulting in indiscriminate casualties,” the network said.

“Following Samer’s injury, he was left to bleed to death for over 5 hours, as Israeli forces prevented ambulances and rescue workers from reaching him, denying the much-needed emergency treatment,” the statement added.

In late October, Wael Dahdouh lost four of his family members in an Israeli air raid.

His family had been seeking refuge in Nuseirat camp in the centre of Gaza when their home was bombed by Israeli forces, killing his wife, Um Hamza, his 15-year-old son, Mahmoud, his seven-year-old daughter, Sham, and his grandson, Adam, who died in hospital hours later.

Calls for accountability

The Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ) said it was “deeply saddened” and called for an independent investigation into the attack.

The press freedom group says the conflict in Gaza is the deadliest for journalists it has ever recorded.

“We’re outraged by the high price, I would say the extreme price, that Palestinian journalists are paying,” the CPJ’s Carlos Martinez de la Serna told Al Jazeera, adding that there was a “clear prevailing sense of impunity.”

“We need international, independent investigations to assess all these killings and those responsible need to be accountable,” said de la Serna. “It’s essential to remember that journalists under international humanitarian law are civilians, and the obligation on all parties involved in the war is to protect them, and what we’re seeing, is that journalists are being killed.”

The International Federation of Journalists (IFJ) said it was “shocked” at the attack.

“We condemn the attack and reiterate our demand that journalists’ lives must be safeguarded,” it said in a post on X.

An IFJ report published last week found that 72 percent of journalists who died on the job this year were killed in the Gaza war.

‘A professional, strong team’

The two journalists have worked together with Al Jazeera Arabic since before the war.

“[Samer] and Wael make up a very professional, strong team on the ground, documenting everything and bringing all the facts and live pictures of what the Palestinian people have been going through,” Hani Mahmoud said.

“But particularly with this war, given its intensity in scale and magnitude and the sheer amount of destruction, they have been at the forefront of covering every little detail that one might have forgotten about,” he added.

#from the river to the sea palestine will be free #free palestine #palestine #gaza #wael al dahdouh #samer abudaqa #another journalist #never forget

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mariacallous · 4 months ago

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In late May, Saudi Arabia appointed its first ambassador to Syria since it closed its embassy in Damascus 12 years ago. The Saudi ambassador’s return was only the latest step by the Arab states to normalize relations with the Assad regime. In 2018, the United Arab Emirates (UAE) became the first to reestablish ties with Damascus (though it only sent an ambassador to Syria in January 2024). The UAE’s move launched the rehabilitation of a regime that has been treated as a regional pariah since 2011 due to its brutal repression of mass protests. Other regional actors followed in its footsteps, including Jordan and Bahrain, but normalization only acquired real momentum in the wake of a devastating earthquake that hit southern Turkey and northern Syria in February 2023. Just months later, in May, the Arab League voted to restore Syria’s membership, ending a suspension dating back to 2011. In addition, several Arab states, including Jordan, Saudi Arabia, Iraq, Lebanon, and Egypt established an Arab Liaison Committee on Syria to negotiate Syria’s further return to the Arab fold, including, potentially, providing Syria with badly needed financial support. Since then, Syrian President Bashar al-Assad has again routinely participated in regional forums, including a November 2023 emergency summit on Gaza where he decried Israeli violence toward Palestinians—never mind his direct complicity in the brutal murder of hundreds of thousands of Syrian civilians.

Syria’s neighbors began normalizing their relations with Damascus after years of isolation and punitive sanctions failed to bring about a change in the Assad regime’s behavior, and as their concerns mounted about the spillover effects of Syria’s economic crisis for regional stability. Perhaps carrots, they argued, in the form of a step-for-step approach that would offer Assad incentives, might achieve what a policy heavy on sticks had not. Three issues loomed especially large on the Arab agenda: the need to create conditions that would permit the safe return of refugees; ending or at least curtailing the production and smuggling of Captagon, a narcotic that was flooding into Saudi Arabia and other Arab countries; and the possibility that a return to the Arab fold, along with Gulf money, might temper Iran’s influence in Syria.

A year later, what has normalization wrought? It has extended recognition and legitimacy to a murderous regime but in every other respect has been a failure. Arab regimes have taken unilateral steps with no reciprocal moves from Assad. Normalization led to no discernable progress toward the objectives sought by members of the Arab Liaison Committee. Refugees forced back into Syria from Lebanon are subject to detention and torture. The vast majority are unwilling to risk voluntary return. Huge quantities of Captagon continue to flow across Syria’s borders, with the direct support and involvement of leading regime figures including the president’s brother, Maher al-Assad. In the absence of any serious attempt by the regime to crack down on smuggling, Jordan has attacked production facilities inside Syria, shot down drug-carrying drones, and deployed its military to confront armed smuggling gangs that attempt to break through the border. Nor has a step-for-step strategy been any more effective in diluting Iranian influence in Damascus. In the face of Assad’s intransigence, last year’s cautious optimism has given way to a grim recognition of the limits of normalization and the depth of the Assad regime’s obstinacy. On May 7, 2024, one year to the day of the Arab League’s restoration of Syria’s membership, the Arab Liaison Committee on Syria suspended its meetings. While a future meeting in Baghdad has been announced, no date has been set.

Its failures notwithstanding, all indications are that Arab regimes are not yet prepared to rethink their engagement with the Assad regime. Instead, they have normalized normalization as a form of politics as usual. Not only did Saudi Arabia return a diplomatic delegation to Damascus in late May, but it also flouted U.S. sanctions to send Syria the spare parts it needed to keep its severely degraded fleet of civilian planes in the air. Flights between Damascus and Riyadh have also resumed. Indeed, as collective negotiations floundered, Arab regimes have shifted course, focusing instead on the development of bilateral ties to advance their particular interests. Even prior to Syria’s reinstatement to the Arab League, Oman and Syria established an Oman-Syria Joint Committee. Iraq’s prime minister, Mohammed Shia al-Sudani, visited Damascus in mid-2023—the first such visit in over 10 years—while Syria’s foreign minister, Faisal Mikdad, has more recently held discussions on strengthening bilateral ties with counterparts from Egypt, Bahrain, and the UAE.

While Syria continues to participate in regional summits, including the most recent Arab League meeting in Manama, there is little question that Assad prefers dealing with neighboring states on a bilateral rather than a multilateral basis. Not least, this approach enables Assad to prioritize his diplomatic outreach. Signaling his relative disregard for Jordan’s priorities—Amman has been an especially vocal critic of the Assad regime’s involvement with the Captagon trade and is said to have led efforts to suspend the work of the Arab Liaison Committee—Jordanian-Syrian ties have been cooler than those between the regime and the Arab states in the Gulf. None of this implies that neighboring regimes have set aside their deep distrust of Assad. Indeed, the Gulf regimes prefer to define their approach to Syria as engagement or non-isolation rather than normalization. For their part, Syrian officials quietly complain about the Gulf regimes’ refusal to provide substantial financial support to Damascus.

For those who view the isolation and sanctioning of the Assad regime as a necessary response to its conduct—its documented role in mass violence and crimes against humanity that include over 300 known uses of chemical weapons, its continued refusal to provide information on the fate of more than 125,000 detainees held in a prison system that Human Rights Watch has described as a “torture archipelago,” its systematic theft of property from the forcibly displaced, its role in the Captagon trade—normalization has shown itself to be a lose-lose outcome. It rewards the regime’s criminality, erodes prospects for accountability, and facilitates sanctions avoidance. If there is a long game lurking behind this “something for nothing” strategy, it has proven exceptionally elusive.

Moreover, persisting with normalization has pernicious consequences for regional and international actors. Neighboring governments working to reduce illicit narcotics flows will be stymied by the Assad regime’s refusal to crack down on the drug trade. Similarly, there is no reason to believe that the incentives held out in exchange for normalization will persuade the Assad regime to change course and create conditions conducive to the voluntary return of refugees. In both respects, Arab governments will pay a steep price for indulging in a normalization process that has been permissive to a fault in its courtship of the Assad regime. Beyond Syria’s neighbors, the rhetoric of normalization has given license for right-wing nativist leaders in Europe to press for the return of Syrian refugees and to reject Syrians’ asylum claims. In early June, officials from seven European countries—Austria, the Czech Republic, Cyprus, Greece, Italy, Malta, and Poland—asserted that conditions in the country had “evolved” sufficiently to reconsider the status of Syrian refugees. More recently, a German court ruled that Syria is now safe for refugee return, a finding that flies in the face of realities on the ground.

The obvious antidote to a strategy that bestows generous benefits on the Assad regime while gaining nothing in return is to stop it. It is time for regional governments to acknowledge the futility of normalization and change course. Along with the United States and its European partners, Syria’s neighbors need to reaffirm that the Assad regime will itself, directly, pay a steep price for its continued refusal to engage, whether on refugees, Captagon, or the larger issue of a pathway out of conflict consistent with U.N. Security Council Resolution 2254. The Assad regime is not normal. Its neighbors are poorly served by pretending that it is.

For its part, the United States would be well served by more assertive efforts to reverse normalization and affirm the Assad regime’s pariah status. The administration should move now, before a transition in January, to deploy the full range of diplomatic tools at its disposal—including more robust economic diplomacy through third-party sanctions—to more firmly signal its intent actively to throw sand in the gears of a deeply flawed normalization process. To date, the administration has instead largely conceded even the limited leverage that Congress gave it through the Caesar Syrian Civilian Protection Act. It has done little more than express skepticism about normalization while making clear it would do nothing to oppose it. In March 2023, Assistant Secretary of State for Near Eastern Affairs Barbara Leaf said that the administration’s message has been “If you’re going to engage with the regime, get something for that.” With the evidence of normalization’s failure, it is past time for the administration to get off the sidelines, recover whatever leverage it can muster, push back on Senate obstruction of the Assad Regime Anti-Normalization Act, and make much wider use of the sanctions that President Joe Biden signed into law through the Caesar Act to deter third-parties from engaging with the Assad regime. The alternative is a continued slow-drip restoration of the Assad regime’s standing that exposes forcibly repatriated refugees to the regime’s violence, even as it enables the continued flow of Captagon out of Syria and ensures the continued suffering of ordinary Syrians.

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perlelune · 9 months ago

Text

Training Wheels | Coriolanus Snow | iii.

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

“So what’s your deal?” Festus Creed asks out of the blue.

Your mouth opens in shock, a nervous laugh slipping out. “My deal?”

A mocking sneer twists his features. “Yeah, Coriolanus kept trying to get you to eat with us but you were being weird about it. If you hate us, just say so.”

While some snigger at the table, Coriolanus stares daggers at him. The mirth instantly vanishes from Festus’ face.

Clemensia bumps her elbow into his rib, chiding him, “Festus, come on,”

“I don’t…hate anyone,” you defend, your voice hardly above a whisper.

Clemensia flashes you a reassuring smile.

“Of course, you don’t. Coriolanus said you’re very sweet.”

Livia rolls her eyes.

“Ugh, whatever. Can we get back to discussing the Yuletide Ball?”

Surprise flutters through you. The name bears vague familiarity. It can be found in the archives detailing the history of the Capitol University. But it’d since long become a frivolity amidst concerns such as quelling the uprisings in the Districts. What’s a students’ dance in the face of war and famine?

“The Yuletide Ball? I thought this was an abolished tradition…I mean since the war.”

Excitement illuminates Livia’s face.

“We’re bringing back the tradition this year, thanks to Coriolanus here. He convinced the new dean.”

Coriolanus lowers his head in apparent humbleness.

“I just made a few good points and he couldn’t refuse me,” he shares. He turns to you, blue eyes sparkling. “I’m pretty persuasive when I need to be.” A chill dances through you at his low, suggestive tone.

To your relief, his attention switches to the rest of the table.

“It’s important to not let District scum ruin our way of life. Traditions must return.”

Livia smirks. “Spoken like a student body president.”

Coriolanus waves a dismissive hand but a hint of smugness lingers in his tone as he says, “Please, elections are only in a month.”

“And it’s obvious you’ll win,” Clemensia states.

He gives a light shrug.

“We shall see.”

Clemensia pivots to you.

“Ivy, Liv and I are on the Ball committee,” she preens, her face brightening. “You could join us if you want.”

You lick your lips. “I don’t know if I’d find the time with midterms coming up soon…”

Coriolanus’ fingertips graze your arm as he offers, “You should do it, angel. It’d be a good way to expand your social circle.”

“You mean her nonexistent circle,” Festus gibes.

The blond’s jaw clenches.

“Talk to her like that again and see what happens, Creed.”

Festus cowers, nervousness flickering on his face. He clears his throat.

“Sorry,” he says to you.

“It’s fine.”

Coriolanus’ fingers latch around your wrist as his steely gaze cuts into Festus.

“No, it’s not fine,” he articulates.

Undisturbed by the altercation between the boys, Clemensia prattles on about the ball.

“We meet up every Saturday morning. We’re working on winter-themed decorations right now. It’ll be so fun. It takes forever to do though.” She looks at you with emphasis. “An extra set of hands would be really welcome.”

“Clemensia…”

“Call me Clemmie,” she interrupts. “All my friends do.”

Friends? You study her hand clasped around yours. The concept is a little foreign to you. You also ponder why someone like Clemensia, with her perfect silky mane and smooth, blemish-free face would want to befriend you. She is the girl everyone gravitates towards. Charismatic, smart and nice to boot. And you might as well be a fly on a wall, ignored on the best days.

You are so stunned that it takes a shamefully long time for the words to fall back on your tongue.

“Clemmie, I’m usually busy on Saturday.”

“Oh.” She deflates, her hold on your hand loosening. “I get it. Sorry I asked.”

The excitement on her face plummets. Immediately, you feel terrible. You’ve never missed a single Saturday of studying, using that time to break down your more complicated courses of the week. But Clemmie looks crestfallen.

Perhaps, this one time, you can adjust your plans a little. One Saturday won’t make a difference in the entire year.

“But…I can try to free up some time,” you offer.

She perks up with your response.

“Great. We’ll be expecting you then.”

Lunch then proceeds, the table resuming the lively debate they were having before you showed up. Festus maintains facts about his family’s role in the reconstruction after the war while Clemensia rolls her eyes. They go back and forth and you observe them, slightly fascinated by the exchange. It’s such a rare occurrence for you to be around others that you soak every bit of their interaction. You get the inkling this happens a lot between them, them ruffling each other’s feathers. Ivy and Livia get wrapped in their own secret conversation you don’t catch a single word of. Meanwhile, Coriolanus watches all of them, taking a bite of the food on his plate every once in a while. The way he eats is slow, nonchalant, almost like he couldn’t care less what’s on his plate. Even if he doesn’t interject at any point, he looks right at home at this table. Unlike you. You recline into silence, letting every minute fly by as you wait for lunch to be over. When it finally is, relief surges inside you.

You mumble a quick goodbye and gather your things. Clemensia beams and waves at you while the others barely acknowledge your departure.

You head for the hallways, trying not to allow your mind to linger on the strange, uncomfortable lunch. Still, your mind swirls. You curse yourself for every blunder and awkward moment. You told him you don’t belong, that you’re an outsider, and always will be. It’s painfully obvious. From the way you dress, talk, carry yourself, you have nothing in common with girls like Clemensia or Livia. There’s a vast chasm between you and them. He should have listened. It astounds you that you even let yourself get roped into joining Clemensia’s committee thing. Though perhaps that won’t be too much of a hassle. You’ll show up to keep your word, then sink back into your rigid study routine.

Coriolanus’ deep voice, a sound you’re now oddly familiar with, erupts behind you.

“Let me carry those for you,” he says, swiping the books in your arms before you can protest. He falls in pace with you, a gentle expression decorating his handsome face.

You frown, the uncanny emptiness of your arms swelling your discomfort.

“You don’t have to-”

“I insist,” he interrupts, chuckling lightly when you try to reach for your books and he dodges you with ease. Your shoulders sag. Your strides hasten, an urgency limning your steps now.

Coriolanus meets no issue with your escalating cadence. He easily keeps up with you, a subtle hint of mirth lurking in his cobalt gaze.

“It wasn’t too much, was it?” he inquires. “I know they can be a lot but they’re all good people. I promise.”

A myriad of words weigh heavy on your tongue but you diplomatically swallow each, settling for a safe, innocuous remark.

“Clemmie was nice.”

The corners of the blond’s lips quirk skyward.

“I told you she was.”

The statement hovers between the two of you for a while. Clemensia seems nice indeed. The rest of his friend group…perhaps a little less so. Possibly a bit more cutthroat and self-absorbed. Though you surmise it is a requirement to be a member of Panem’s elite.

No other word is traded between you and him as you make your way to the lecture hall.

“This is me,” you announce.

You turn to Coriolanus, hands stretching towards your books. He makes no move to give them back. Your forehead creases.

He gives you a sluggish once-over before offering, “What if I drove you back home after your classes?”

You nibble your bottom lip, dismayed by his proposition. You’ve caught glimpses of his fancy new car, as you’re sure most have at the University. As heir apparent to the Plinth fortune, he gets to spend money as he likes.

“I usually walk. It’s okay.”

He gets a little closer. “Come on, angel. Just let me do something nice for you.”

You shrink until your back hits the wall, stunned when Coriolanus follows each of your steps.

“My last lecture is…Professor Bellweather tends to ramble,” you mumble, his proximity unnerving you. “I don’t…I don’t know when he’ll be done.”

He licks his lips.

“I’ll just wait for you, angel.”

He utters the words like it’s obvious. You gawk at him. It takes you a few minutes to retrieve your speech.

You scratch your arm, your frown accentuating.

“You really don’t have to. Like I said, walking home is fine.”

The gaze trained on your form sharpens.

“And I’m offering to take you home so you don’t have to exert yourself.” He bends over you, invading the already insufficient space between the two of you. “Has a friend never done something like that for you?”

“N-No,” you admit.

His tone’s heavy with suggestion as he rasps, “So let me be your first then, angel.”

Your heart stumbles inside your chest.

“I’m gonna be late for class,” you blurt out, attempting to brush past him.

Coriolanus’ hand darts out, swiftly cinching around your wrist to stop you from leaving.

“I still don’t have an answer,” Coriolanus says.

You glance from his hand, tight around your wrist, to his determined gaze. Your throat goes dry.

“Okay, you can d-drive me back home.”

He releases your wrist and returns your books, a smile ghosting over his lips.

“Wonderful. I’ll come get you later, angel.”

Clutching your books against your chest, you watch him glide away.

As promised, Coriolanus is waiting for you when you exit from your last class. You don’t even think to hide your shock as you find the blond leaning against the wall. A smirk unfans on his lips, your reaction seeming to amuse him.

He doesn’t say much to you as you walk side by side and head to his car. When you’re outside, he surprises you by opening the passenger door for you before you can even lift a hand.

“T-Thanks,” you stammer. You plop down on the plush seat. The leather smells new and expensive.

Your nerves thrum as he takes the driver’s seat and starts the car. You’ve never been alone in a car with a boy before. Uneasy, you let your eyes roam outside the window. The Capitol’s high buildings blur past you rapidly.

You’re lost in your thoughts when you notice the prickling sensation over your flesh, The burning, unwavering weight of Coriolanus Snow’s scrutiny.

Your head whirls.

Bashful words quake through your lips.

“Do I have something on my face?” Your hands reach to touch it, just in case.

He chuckles.

“No,” he replies, shrugging. “It’s a nice face that’s all.”

The casual compliment sends a wave of heat through your body.

“Can you drive?” he asks, curiosity lighting his features.

You shake your head. Getting your license has never been a priority. Besides, it’s only a thirty minute walk to get to the University. You don’t mind it, often using that time to sneak in some reading.

“No.”

“I could drive you if you like,” he offers, his gaze holding yours. “Anywhere you want to go.”

Your cheeks warm. “I’m okay.”

Coriolanus nods, his focus shifting back to the road.

“You always say that…” He hums low in his throat. “I’m just not sure I believe it, angel.”

You’re so nervous the entire drive that you don’t even notice when he arrives at your house. You stare at him, mouth agape. You haven’t given him a single instruction on how to get there.

“You know where I live?”

As he opens the door for you, Coriolanus simply replies, “You told me earlier.”

Your brows furrow. You don’t remember telling him but his tone harbors no doubt. You rummage through your brain, seeking the moment. Nothing comes up and you grow confused.

You blink up at him.

“I-I did?”

“Yes, you did, angel.” He snorts as if your line of questioning is beyond ludicrous. “How else would I know?” He slams the door of the car as you rise. “Besides…Dr. Gaul is my mentor. Of course, I know where she lives.”

You nod. That makes sense and it didn’t even occur to you.

“I…”

He cocks his head. “What?”

You fidget beneath his stare, discomfort flaring in the pit of your stomach.

“Nothing. Thanks for driving me home.”

He flashes you a wide smile.

“My pleasure. See you soon, angel.”

He starts the car and drives away. You don’t feel quite at ease until his car’s gone from view, heading towards the Corso.

Walter zooms across the room as soon as you enter the large apartment. Your eyes wander about. As usual, the place is empty besides you and Walter. Mother rarely spends any time here nowadays, her work occupying all of her time.

Walter rubs his furry head against your ankle, twirling around you as he meows. He then stands on his hind legs and starts gently raking his claws across your leg. A way for him to demand that you pet him. A small smile tugging your lips, you pick him up. The orange ball of fur purrs, curling against your chest as you carry him in your arms. You make your way to the kitchen and pour a mix of leftover meat and fish in his bowl.

You set him down on the floor. His tail wiggles as he hops to his food.

You crouch next to him.

“You wouldn’t believe what happened today, Walter,” you say while giving gentle pets to his back. “I was invited to their table.” The orange cat pauses his eating to stare up at you blankly. “Yes. Theirs,” you repeat as if he could understand you. He gives a long meow before focusing on his bowl again. You sigh. “I know. I thought the same thing.”

Once Walter’s emptied his bowl, you pick him up again and make your way to the living room.

You collapse on the couch.

“And then…Coriolanus Snow drove me home. Yes, the Coriolanus Snow. I didn’t even think he knew I existed.”

For a while, you remain on the couch, stroking Walter’s fur as he sits on your lap. His tail whips the air, his eyes closing as you pet him. His soft rumble of content reverberates against your belly, amplifying when your fingers drag behind his pointed white ears. You lean back, a blanket of peace settling over you.

Walter’s not just a strange-looking cat, he’s also a rescue…from your mother’s experiments. A kitten mutt with mismatched eyes, one blue and one yellow, his mushed, wrinkled face gives him a passing resemblance to a rodent. Pets like him are a rarity in today’s world as most creatures such as him were eaten during the First Rebellion.

Your mother finds him appalling. In her eyes, he is a failed experiment. Like you. Perhaps it’s why you have such kinship with the creature. You still recall her unsettling glance in your direction the day she asked the entire class of nine-year-olds at the Academy if they had pets they were sick of. She then proceeded to burn the flesh off a lab rat to demonstrate her pulsed energy laser.

This moment is burned into your mind forever, your mother’s clinical tone chilling your blood.

You stole Walter from the Citadel and took him home that same day.

You were careful to hide him, though you suspect your mother figured out what you did. She likely added it to her long list of disappointments when it comes to you.

Sometimes, you envy Walter. The simplicity his days hinge upon. His obliviousness to the woes of the world. His uncanny ability to sleep through the chaos of it, ignore the disarray. Walter’s world consists of food, play and cuddles.

What a blissful existence. You bet Walter never had a vexing thought in his short life.

The train of your thoughts is interrupted by the shrill ringing of the phone.

You carefully remove Walter from your lap. He meows in protest and jumps off the couch. You pick up the phone, chest clenching as a familiar face fills the flickering screen.

“Mother,” you greet. “How are you?”

She ignores your question, curtly stating, “You’re falling behind in Molecular Cell Biology.”

You know that tone all too well, the warning laced within it so achingly familiar.

Your fingers twist around the phone cord, your voice becoming small.

“I’ll get my grades up, I promise.”

Silence hovers between you and your mother for a while. Faint hope sparks within you. Perking up, you decide to tell her about your day.

“Oh, mother, today-”

“I must go,” she interrupts. “It’s time for my milk and cookies.”

Your spirits plummet. You nudge a hollow smile onto your face.

“Right. I didn’t realize,” you say, checking the clock hanging on the wall. “I’m sorry.”

She heaves out a deep sigh, her lone blue eye narrowing.

“Focus on your studies. And try not to be even more of an embarrassment to me than you already are.”

“Y-Yes, mother,” you reply, your heart shriveling inside your chest.

As she hangs up, you feel silly and horrible. Silly for trying to strike up a normal conversation with your mother. And horrible for letting her down once more.

“You came!” Clemensia exclaims as she rushes to you. You try not to tense as she gives you a tight hug. Ivy and Livia linger in the background, their eyes lifting from the crafts’ table.

You wave at them and are surprised when Ivy wiggles her fingers at you. Livia is more withdrawn, nodding to acknowledge your presence but quickly returning to her task.

You step out of Clemensia’s embrace and flash a quick smile.

“Well I promised you that I would,” you reply nonchalantly. You take a look around the room. Various decorations and posters are propped against the walls, while snowflakes cut-outs and what looks like moon dust are scattered on the table. It seems the girls have been busy.

You turn to Clemensia. “What’s the theme again?”

Ivy surprises you by answering cheerfully, “Well, it’ll be like a Winter daydream and we were thinking of making it a masquerade.”

Excitement sways in Clemensia’s bright eyes. “What do you think?”

“Sounds nice.” Your trite answer draws every gaze in the room to you. Awkwardly bouncing on your feet, you correct yourself, beaming at Clemensia. “I meant amazing.”

“I think so too,” she chimes.

She shows you the empty chair next to hers. The both of you sit down and she starts rambling about the theme and all the ideas she has to decorate the ballroom. You grow dizzy with all the information, trying to follow along her instructions at the same time.

“We’ll need to find you a date,” Clemensia says.

You shake the can of blue paint before spraying over the tree cut-out.

“It’s okay. I probably won’t be going anyway,” you respond absently.

The pencil in Livia’s hand snaps. Your head rises. The blonde’s gaping at you. You then realize…the same look of disbelief is etched on all the girls’ features. A frown mars your brow. Did you say something wrong? You didn’t realize this was such an important event.

A nervous laugh peals off Clemensia’s red-painted lips.

“No, but you have to,” she says, “It’s the first Yuletide Ball in over a decade. Everyone will be there.”

You shrug. “It’s four months away, Clemmie.”

Her onyx gaze shimmers.

“Well, a lot can happen in four months,” she sings, a mysterious smile spreading onto her lips.

#dark!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #hunger games #tbosas fanfiction #dark!coriolanus snow x reader

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workersolidarity · 8 months ago

Text

[ 📹 📸 Photos and video from the latest Zionist bombings of Rafah City, in the southern Gaza Strip, bringing the confirmed death toll from the assaults at 36 Palestinians martyred, while dozens of others were wounded or remain missing under the rubble of their homes.]

🇮🇱⚔️🇵🇸 🚀🚀🚀🏘️💥🚑 🚨

OVER 107 PALESTINIANS KILLED OVER THE LAST DAY ON 171ST DAY OF GENOCIDE IN THE GAZA STRIP

On the 171st day of "Israel's" ongoing war of genocide in the Gaza Strip, the Israeli occupation forces (IOF) committed a total of 11 new massacres of Palestinian families, resulting in the deaths of more than 107 Palestinians, mostly women and children, and wounded another 176 others over the previous 24-hours.

According to the Palestinian Red Crescent Society (PRCS), the Israeli occupation army has forced all of the patients, wounded individuals, medical staff and displaced families that were sheltering inside Al-Amal Hospital, west of Khan Yunis, in the southern Gaza Strip, to leave the medical complex.

However, as the people forced out of Al-Amal Hospital made their way out of the area, the massive destruction to infrastructure and nearby buildings blocked the path of those evacuating. As the group attempted to clear the road to ease their passage, occupation forces opened fire on the two teams trying to remove the rubble from the road, at least two of them.

According to PRCS, "efforts were made to evacuate them, and the teams managed to rescue one of them, while they were unable to deal with the second case due to uncertainty about his fate."

Later, PRCS said, Israeli occupation forces forced their teams to return to Al-Amal Hospital, however when they arrived to the hospital, the gate had been closed by the occupation army and the teams were unable to re-enter the complex.

The PRCS team has been waiting outside on the street since, huddled inside ambulances under bombardment, while PRCS says they "continue to coordinate with partners to provide a safe humanitarian passage to evacuate the wounded and the teams."

The Zionist occupation army has launched a total of three major raids on Palestinian hospitals over the last few days. However, the assault on Gaza's medical infrastructure ramped up further with the bombing of the upper floors of the main building at Al-Shifa Medical Complex in Gaza City today, while IOF artillery forces continued shelling the surrounding Al-Rimal neighborhood, south of Gaza City.

According to witnesses, Zionist soldiers abused and mistreated hundreds of patients and displaced families sheltering in the medical complex, including the abuse of the women and children, while at the same time, occupation forces detained several men, including healthcare workers and medical staff.

Simultaneously, Zionist forces ordered the evacuation of Al-Shifa Hospital, and also demanded that nearby civilians in the Al-Rimal neighborhood evacuate their homes and head to the south of Gaza.

More than 800 Palestinians have been rounded up and detained by the Israeli occupation army during the siege of Al-Shifa Hospital, while over 170 Palestinians have been killed near the medical complex, including reports of field executions and other extrajudicial murders.

Meanwhile, as occupation soldiers execute civilians at Al-Shifa Hospital, occupation warplanes continued to bomb and shell various neighborhoods across the entirety of the Gaza Strip.

Dozens were killed and wounded as a result of the continued bombing and shelling in the vicinity of Al-Shifa Hospital, as intense gunfire continues in the surrounds of the medical complex.

Occupation forces also continue their targeting of workers in committees that organize the distribution of humanitarian aid near the Al-Kuwaiti roundabout, south of Gaza City.

Elsewhere, IOF fighter jets bombarded the Barhoum family home in the Yabna Camp, in central Rafah, resulting in a number of casualties among civilians, including women and children.

Occupation aircraft also bombed near the vicinity of the Al-Kuwaiti roundabout, killing one civilian and wounding two others, while occupation warplanes bombed the Dawla roundabout, near the Al-Zaytoun neighborhood, southeast of Gaza City, injuring at least three civilians.

Zionist Merkava tanks and other armored vehicles also penetrated the Western Camp area and the Al-Amal neighborhood, reaching into the area of Al-Aqsa University near the Al-Mawasi area, south of Khan Yunis.

Heavy bombing and shelling by the Zionist army of various areas in Rafah City last night also resulted in the deaths of at least 27 Palestinians.

Sources say at least 5 residential homes were destroyed in a series of air and missile strikes, which mainly focused on civilian homes, while the number of those killed in a set of airstrikes in Deir al-Balah rose to 10, with large numbers of missing people still trapped under the rubble of their homes.

In a truly horrific series of events, the occupation army obliterated the Issa family home in Al-Qarara, north of Khan Yunis, martyring at least four Palestinians, while simultaneously, the bombing of the Kurdi family home killed another 7 civilians.

Occupation Forces didn't stop there, they continued with the destruction of the Al-Satri family home, which led to another four deaths, while the bombardment of the Barakat family home killed one, and the bombing of the Farwana family home martyred another 11 civilians.

Similarly, Zionist warplanes dropped several firebelts over the city of Deir al-Balah in the central Gaza Strip, including the bombardment of the Abu Amra family home, located in the Al-Hakar neighborhood, wounding a number of civilians, while the death toll from the bombing of the Salman family home on al-Bi'ah Street in Deir al-Balah has since risen to 18.

Occupation warplanes also bombed the Nuseirat and Al-Bariya Refugee Camps in central Gaza.

Zionist forces continued their rampage of terror when they bombed the Salem family home in the Beach Camp, west of Gaza City, killing two and wounding a number of others.

Two others were killed as a result of the occupation army targeting a group of people in Beit Lahia, in the northern Gaza Strip.

As a result of "Israel's" ongoing war of genocide in the Gaza Strip, the endlessly rising death toll now exceeds 32'333 Palestinians martyred, upwards of 25'000 of which being women and children according to the United States Pentagon, while an additional 74'694 civilians have been wounded since the start of the current round of Zionist aggression beginning on October 7th, 2023.

#source1

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#source3

#source4

#source5

#source6

#source7

#source8

#photosource

#videosource

@WorkerSolidarityNews

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poraphia · 1 year ago

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alright so

The reader has been involved in the East L’manburg mafia since they were 17-19 years old (shortly before they met Wilbur). They work as a forger of signatures and documents, since they have a steady hand and artistic inclination (can’t draw that well though. Only can copy handwriting. Go figure.). maybe they were in juvie, maybe they were in a group home (thinking about the book “allegedly”), but whatever their situation was, the mafia helped them pay themselves out of it and land a steady part time career as a laboratory assistant (plus some money to enroll in university). they keep most of the details about their life hidden from everyone, even Wilbur. The only thing he knows is that they were in some sort of a group home, but the details are obscure— and they took a while to tell him that, too. They didn’t want the syndicate doing a background check on them and revealing some details they’d rather stay hidden. Tl;dr: lots of trust issues.

But Wilbur is so sweet, and Philza and Techno are great people, so they stick around. They learn to juggle their life with the mafia and their life with the Soots. The reader is convinced they’ll be fine, they can keep digging this hole for themselves without meeting any consequences. But consequences DO come, and they come in the form of a completely accidental car accident on the readers way to work. They are rushed to the hospital (Wilbur gets a phone call and is beside himself with worry), and are told that although their dominant hand will be fine in the long run, it will never be able to work properly again. So they can write— but they can no longer forge signatures and handwriting like they used to. Therefore, they are now a liability to the mafia. of course the mafia finds out, and has a little “chat” with them. The reader returns home with a black eye and a busted lip, but promises Wilbur that they just tripped and fell down the stairs. He almost believes them.

And then there’s the Actual Accident. Maybe a building collapses, maybe there’s a gas leak and the readers apartment explodes. Either way, charred bodies are found in the building, and the reader is presumed dead. they aren’t actually dead, having out on an errand when the accident occurs. They go back to the scene immediately, wanting to tell Wilbur that they’re okay—- but spot some mafia members digging around in the rubble. The reader overhears the mafia members pronounce them dead, and watches them leave. with this sight comes a few key realizations: first, they no longer have a bounty over their head. Normally, the mafia would wait a couple weeks before killing a target, just to get them to lower their guard. Now, though, the reader is truly safe. Second: if they asked protection from the syndicate, the Soots could be endangered. Wilbur and co. might be able to protect them physically, but the mafia would do anything to get to their target. Including doing extensive research on this protecting them. If the reader hid behind the Syndicate, the mafia could discover the Syndicates true identities and pawn the info off to the heroes. it wouldn’t be the first time that the mafia bribed and involved itself with the heroes committee.

So the reader doesn’t come back. They let Wilbur (and the mafia) think they have died.

then they probably sneakily kill off the mafia members during their “missing and presumed dead” period idk

anyway idk how the reader explains this to siren after he calms down. probably in a dark room, sitting with their backs together, facing opposite walls.

siren also probably asks something like “were you about to LET me kill you back there?”

angst haha

ALRIGHT CRACKING MY KNUCKLES AFTER SLAVING OVER SCHOOL WORK LETS DO THIS

btw OOOHH MY GOD this was such a juicy backstory literally love it the idea that reader has their own secret life (much like a lot of the characters in tcfsv) and its a whole gritty, not so fun, twisted story of its own just MWAH

---

It's been four hours since Siren used his honey-tone voice.

It's been four hours since Apollo found Siren hovering over the broken vigilante as blood dribbled from their lips and bruises brandished a fresh pink.

It's been four hours since Blade had to pin Siren down with Zehphyrus shielding (y/n) with his wings and Apollo healing various bruises scattered all over their body.

And most importantly, it's been four hours since Techno and Tommy threw them in Wil's rooms together and was told to talk it out, despite Wil's protest. He and (y/n) sat with their backs pressed together in the middle of his bedroom. (y/n) clutched what once was a rich hot chocolate, taking momentary sips between their words.

Wilbur sat there, rendered speechless as he listened to their pain-ridden words. It was a story not easily mumbled by them, and if anything, he was the first person to even hear what torture they had to go through.

Silent tears were streaming down (y/n)'s face, but they were determined to fight through their stutters and trembles.

"I-I know it was selfish." They whispered. Their hands wrapped tightly around the half empty mug. "T-That I should've called you to at least let you know I was safe but I--"

"Are they still alive?" Wilbur spoke gently, but his words, even without his siren voice, had so much power behind them. It sent a shiver up their spine.

"N-No. I killed them off before I even became a vigilante." They let out a dry chuckle, but nothing could soothe the thick tension in the room. It became quiet now. Only the humming of the a/c and the nocturnal crickets of the night filled the atmosphere.

Then, Wilbur spoke again.

"You," He paused as bit, almost as if registering his own words. "You almost let me kill you." He muttered almost breathlessly. (y/n) didn't speak. Instead, their silence said enough.

"Why?" He asked. "(y-y/n), don't you realize what I'm saying?!" Desperately he ran his fingers through his hair as attempt to soothe his own mania, but it was no use. (y/n) could feel his fidgeting as his back continued to brush against theirs. "Were you about to let me kill you back there?!"

Calmly, (y/n) placed their mug on the nearest surface, close enough where they could reach, before leaning back on Wil. His hyperventilating slowed, but his distressed fidgets maintained.

"Wil." They called out. He continued muttering to himself.

"Wil!" They exclaimed once again. Still, he ignored.

"WILBUR!"

his rocking stopped, but his head stayed buried between his knees. A moment of silence passed between them both, letting the crickets occupy their ears for just a few seconds.

Finally, (y/n) spoke up.

"I wouldn't have cared if you killed me." They said, leaning against his back. Their head rested against the back of his and they stared up at the ceiling.

"What..?" He muttered, his voice cracking.

"I wouldn't have cared. I wanted you to be happy-- not ruin your life. So if you saw that was the best judgement for me then.." They trailed off, letting their silence speak for themselves.

Carefully, Wilbur sat up before turning around to face them now. He placed a hand on their shoulder, making them turn around as well. Their features weren't exactly visible, but from how the moon defined little shadows on their face, he knew this was the lover he fell for long ago.

"I.." Looking at them as the moon shimmered in their eyes, his body was left breathless. His heart didn't have the courage to yell at them and prove his ego, but it also didn't have the strength to fight against their beauty either.

Gently, he placed a hand on their cheek, feeling the fresh tears but soft skin warming up his palm. (y/n), naturally, sunk into his touch, closing their eyes.

"Y-You've been through a lot." Wilbur softly muttered. (y/n) placed a hand over his, slightly nodding their head. "So I..-- and I mean-- it is pretty late." He was reluctant to his next choice of words, but nonetheless, he swallowed that huge lump in his throat.

"Why don't you stay over for the night?"

hi i do want to say that i worked on this four days ago and im really sorry for the delay and it may be a little rushed however @listenheresweaty literally did the carrying here im just kicking my feet and twirling my hair sooo YA ENJOY

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