#Or hearing my family going into shelters because of bombing

[janeyseymour]

Hey so I was wondering if you could do a fic about a Melissa X daughter reader where we start working at the school and nobody catches on that we are Melissa’s daughter and the keep putting the pieces together until they finally get it. Maybe something like where Janine and Jacob go to Melissa’s house for cooking lessons and we are just like there and that’s how they find out. Or alternative idea where we are Melissa’s daughter and we start dating someone from Abbott like Ava or Janine and how that would play out. Sorry that’s a lot. Thanks

Relatively Related

written in the midst of the week before spring break and hoping that it isn't absolute trash :)

WC: ~2.5k

Growing up with Melissa Schemmenti for a mother, you saw what it was like being a teacher. You grew up hearing the horror stories that came with being a teacher in a center city school in Philadelphia, and you knew the horrors of growing up in a different part of Philly and going to that neighborhood school. While she didn’t much mind what you did with your life, she had always thought you would be a good teacher. And when you decided to go to college for education at West Chester University, she knew Abbott would take you in a heartbeat. It didn’t even matter that you were her daughter and she was quite the accredited teacher- West Chester’s name had enough to secure you a job anywhere in Philly that you wanted. You had vehemently denied working at her home away from home for quite some time, and yet here you were, with a bit of nudging from your mother, interviewing to become the new third grade teacher at Abbott Elementary. 

“C’mon, hun,” she had sighed over dinner a few weeks ago. “I think if you would give it a shot, you would like it… I know Abbott ain’t no suburban school, but it’s a hell of a lot better than some of the places you’ve applied.”

“I just don’t want people thinking I got the job because you’re my mom,” you tell her truthfully through a mouthful of ziti.

“Y/N, if you wanted the job, I could get it for you without an interview.”

“Isn’t that essentially what would happen if I applied and checked off that I have family within the district?”you challenge as you raise a brow.

She rolls her eyes. “You act like they actually look at resumes. Please, they’ll take pretty much anyone who has a pulse and a certification… how you think I got stuck with Darlene as a part of my team?”

“I guess.”

“And besides, you have your father’s last name… how are they gonna know you’re my daughter if you don’t have my last name?”

You have to admit, she’s right. So you send in your resume. And two days later, you receive an email saying that they’d like to see you for an interview. 

Your interview is practically a joke, and you’re offered a job on the spot. That night, Melissa and her work wife Barbara take you out for dinner.

“To Abbott’s newest member of the team,” Barbara makes a toast to you. “May it take you far in life.”

That was three years ago, and since then a lot has changed. A new principal has come in, there’s been a massive turnover in teachers, and you find yourself as a first grade teacher now. The only thing that hasn’t changed? The only one who knows you’re true identity at the school besides you and your mother is that Melissa Schemmenti is your mother. 

This year, a few new teachers start: Jacob Hill as the eighth grade social studies teacher, and Janine Teagues as the other second grade teacher.

And as much as your mother loves to rip on new coworkers of yours, you find yourself quite drawn to both of them. Sure, they’re a little nosey and love to hear all of the new gossip and find all of the deep secrets that are hidden in the walls of this old bomb shelter turned elementary school, but you like them. They haven’t found you out, not that you or Melissa really care, but it’s quite nice to have that little bubble around the two of you. 

They’ve come close though. Like the time that it came about that you share a name with Melissa’s daughter- who at this point they’re starting to believe doesn’t exist with the lack of pictures or stories.

“I’m telling you, I have a daughter,” Melissa rolls her eyes as she taps away at her phone. “I’m texting her right now.”

That is true- she is indeed texting you. Sure, she’s just texting you to tell you that you need to pick up lentils on the way home, but she isn’t lying to them.

“Show us.”

The redhead rolls her eyes, but she shows the two of them your conversation. “See? I’m just telling her she needs to pick up lentils if she wants me to make dinner tonight.”

Jacob’s brow raises as he catches the name at the top of the screen. “That’s odd… your daughter shares the same name with Y/N!”

“Well that would make sense,” your mother sighs, and you know she’s about to just out the two of you.

“It’s not like my name’s uncommon,” you jump in quietly. “I mean… really. Y/N. Not the most unique name in the world.”

Barbara raises a brow in your direction, and you give her a pleading look. “She’s right,” is all your mother’s work wife says. 

That seems to stop the conversation for now, but the adrenaline rushing through your bones doesn’t quit until you safely pull into your driveway that day- lentils in hand.

“I’m home, Ma,” you call as you open the front door. Her head pokes out from the kitchen. “And yes I got the lentils.”

“Good,” is all she says before heading back into the kitchen. You follow in her direction and set them next to her before picking up the glass of wine she’s already poured for you and sipping on it.

“Aye,” she clicks her tongue. “No hello? No ‘how was your day?’”

“I saw your forty minutes ago,” you snort.

“An’ a lot coulda happened in forty minutes,” she replies. When you raise your brow at her, she sighs. “Okay, so in that forty minutes I drove home, changed into my lounge clothes, and started dinner… but I was also thinkin’-”

“That’s dangerous,” you quip. At the look she gives you, you raise your hands in surrender. You might be a grown woman, but Melissa Schemmenti was still your mother. 

“I was thinkin’… you reacted kinda weird when I went to say that you were my daughter.”

You shrug. “I just don’t see why it’s anyone’s business but ours.”

“There’s gotta be more to it than that, hun,” she says as she stirs in the lentils.

“Jus’ don’t want anyone thinkin’ I’m some sorta nepo baby,” you sigh. “I got this job on my own, an’ I don’t need shit from the Abbott crew.”

“They ain’t gonna give you shit, ‘specially once they know you’re mine, and I know a guy,” she laughs,

“Little do they know, half the time, I’m your guy,” you tease her.

“Well, if that’s what it is, that’s fine. I won’t say nothin’.”

“Thanks Ma,” you smile as you kiss her cheek. “I got some grading to do, so if you have anything that needs graded, just put it next to my stack.”

As time goes on, the group starts to catch on a bit more… like:

The fact that you’re just as good a cook as your mother. You’re always bringing in new things in your Tupperware containers- that just so happen to match Melissa’s… because they came from the same house. You quickly cover that one up with a roll of your eyes and a, “So we both shop at Marshalls, the containers ain’t that special.”

Or when you manage to get pink eye from one of your kids, and Janine notices that you have the same emerald eyes as your mother. “Green eyes aren’t as rare as you think, Janine,” you huff as you grab your lunch from the fridge before leaving for the day.

There’s the instance where you’re getting fiercely protective of your students as one of the teachers from Addington makes their way over to flaunt the fact that they have more resources down the street, and you fold your arms over your chest and square up with the woman in true Schemmenti fashion. That time, Gregory takes notice, but he’s new at this point, and you just roll your eyes as you storm away down to your mother’s room to rant. 

But no one ever really finds out. Not until…

“Kid, I’m having some people over for dinner tonight,” your mother tells you. “You joining?”

“Nah, I have some grading and prepping to get done tonight if I can,” you say. “But can you save me a bowl?”

“For a price,” she smirks.

“Hand me your spelling tests I know you’ve been stalling on grading,” you chuckle. She just points to her bag, and you go and pull them out before heading up to your room. “Have fun with your friends tonight. Love you, Ma.”

“Love you too, you little shit,” she calls back lovingly.

You’ve spent hours grading papers, and now you’re pouring over your lesson plans for the next week. You realize that you should probably do a craft that has to do with the upcoming holidays, and you find a few cute ones online. You know that you and your mother have a plethora of crafting supplies in the basement- you just don’t know what of. So, you start to make your way down the steps when you hear two very familiar voices: Jacob’s and Janine’s.

Knowing though that if you don’t go and look in the basement now, you never will and will just end up buying all new supplies and adding to the ridiculous amount of pipe cleaners and glitter glue you have stashed away.

You make your way through the kitchen. The three of them seem to be deep in a cooking lesson while also snacking on a few of the things your mother had already whipped up and don’t have a clue you’re walking through.

“You need any crafting supplies while I head down and see what we have?” you casually ask your mother as you pass.

You stop to watch as your two coworkers’ heads whip around in a near comical unison, mouths dropped in shock.

“Y/N?”

“Hey,” you give a half-committed wave. 

“What are you doing here?” Janine asks.

You furrow a brow and fold your arms over your chest. “I live here?”

“You live with Melissa?” Jacob gasps.

“Yeah? She’s my mom?”

“She’s your-“ Janine points a finger at you before turning around and looking at Melissa. “You’re her-”

“I told you guys I had a daughter, that she wasn’t fake,” your mom smirks. “You believe me now?”

“How did we never know?!” Jacob admonishes.

“Well, for starters: I don’t have the Schemmenti last name. Secondly, who’s business is it to know who my mother is?” you quip. “You know how private the Schemmenti family can be.”

They both look beyond shocked. “Well, why don’t you join us?”

“I really do have to go check for pipe cleaners and paper plates, and I know how to cook,” you laugh. “But I’ll see y’all tomorrow.”

You head down the steps, and you hear your mother call, “The big jawns!”

“That’s what I figured, Ma!”

“What the hell?” Jacob whips around to your mother, and you laugh because you know she’s about to get grilled on the fact that you were indeed her ‘secret’ daughter.

You find what you need before heading back up the steps and for your room. “Have a good night y’all!”

The next morning, you’re sitting in the lounge sipping your coffee and sulking over the fact that you forgot your lunch on the counter this morning. Luckily for you, your mother brings it with her when she sees that you left it on the counter. She slips it into the staff fridge before sending you a text that it’s there. She preps her coffee and settles in next to you to grade a few more papers before everyone else stars trickling in to watch the news.

“Uh, hello?” Jacob questions when he walks in and everyone else is here now too. “Are we not going to talk about this?”

“Talk about what?” you and your mother ask at the same time.

“You two!” He gestures wildly between the two of you. “That you guys are related!”

“You two are related?” Gregory asks with a brow lifted.

“Uh, yeah!” Janine tells him.

“How do you know?”

“She told us last night when she called Melissa ‘Ma’!”

“Why didn’t any of us know this?” Jacob continues on.

“Know what?” Ava asks as she comes waltzing into the lounge to grab a coffee.

“That Melissa is Y/N’s mother!”

“I knew,” Barb states with a smirk on her face.

“Oh, damn! I was starting to think Melissa being a milf was just a rumor. I am happy to find out that it is entirely the truth,” the principal grins. “Greg, grab me a tea bag so I can sip on this tea!”

“There isn’t any tea, Ava,” you roll your eyes. “Yes, Melissa is my mom, but it really ain’t that big a deal.”

“Oh, it definitely is! Why were you so secretive about it?! Hmm?” Jacob asks as he sits next to you.

You shimmy away from him just slightly with a huff. “Because nobody needs to know a Schemmenti’s business except a Schemmenti. And, I didn’t want nobody thinking I got this job because of who I’m related to.”

“Y/N, please. You’re good at what you do, hun! You could get this job without the Schemmenti name, and you did!” Your mother cuts in and jostles you slightly.

“I also didn’t want to hear you-“ you look to Ava. “-calling my mother a milf more than I already do.”

“She is! And now that I see the two of you next to each other, I definitely see where your future is heading too!”

“Ava!” You, your mother, and the rest of the group scold.

The principal just shrugs. “Jus’ sayin’ the truth. Bye, y’all.”

Once she’s gone, you’re bombarded with questions. What’s it like having Melissa for a mother? Is your father really as bad as your mother makes him out to be? What was it like growing up? If you saw the horrors of Abbott, why did you work here? What were you like as a child?

“Enough,” you finally groan. “This is why I didn’t want people knowin’. I may be Melissa’s daughter, but-”

“Isn’t it weird calling your mom by her first name?” Jacob cuts you off.

“I’ve been yelling her first name since I was fourteen and realized she didn’t always respond to Mom or Ma, but always Melissa,” you reveal. “Now: she may be my mom, but I’m still a damn good teacher who got this position on my own volition. And y’all better stop asking these questions, or I know a guy.”

“And I’m the guy,” you mother states proudly, a proud grin on her face.

“No you ain’t. Uncle Vin is my guy.”

“While we’re at it,” Melissa sighs. “Stop asking me to get weed from my guy and just ask Y/N instead. She’s my guy for that.”

#melissa schemmenti fanfiction #melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader #abbott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary

[iiconicxpersona]

Don’t Leave Me

Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: After an extremely traumatic experience during the Escobar case, reader debates between staying in Colombia with Javier or leaving him for good.

Warnings: smut (18+) mvrd3r, depression, angst, read at your own risk, minors DNI

A/N: Had to repost because original only posted half 😫 to be fair I was at target lmao

Life as the significant other of a DEA agent was no joke, especially for Javier Peña. You had heard the horror stories on the news, and you knew there was much more gruesome details Javier wasn’t telling you about. He sheltered you to the best of his abilities for your sake and for the sake of his own sanity. He liked coming home to some sort of normalcy, but he loved how even after the most life threatening days all it took was holding you in his arms and kissing your lips to make everything all right again. You were his sanctuary, his home.

However, after a year into your relationship with Javi, you finally got a small taste of what Pablo Escobar and the Colombian cartels were capable of.

Javier didn’t give you too many details, but he warned you that it might be safer for you to go back to America and stay with your family until the heat cooled down. Pablo had figured out Javier and Steve Murphy were hot on his tracks and the last thing Javi wanted was for you to get hurt. Nevertheless, you fought against the idea of leaving him—even if it was just temporary—until Javi finally gave in. “You got yourself a fighter, Javs.” Murphy would tell him.

“She doesn’t know what she’s getting herself into.” Javier would respond.

He was right. You had absolutely no fucking idea of what you were getting yourself into, until one morning you woke up to the nonstop ringing of the doorbell to your and Javi’s shared apartment. You should’ve known something was up when you looked through the peephole and saw that nobody was there, but curiosity got the best of you.

When you opened the door, there was a package on the floor with no labels on it. You wanted to ignore it, and if Javier didn’t have to leave early for work that morning he would’ve gotten rid of it himself. You had a gut feeling not to open it, but your body reacted faster than your brain and before you knew it the package was sitting on the coffee table in front of you. The apartment was quiet. Too quiet. Quiet enough that if the package was a bomb, you would hear it. No such sound was made. The Devil and Angel on your shoulders raged against each other on the idea of opening it until you finally started cutting the tape off.

The scream that left your lungs at the sight haunted the entire apartment complex for months. Inside the box were the lifeless head and hands of a woman with features similar to yours. The hands cradled each side of the head while wrapped securely in saran wrap to prevent the blood from dripping. It was pretty clear that this was a message for Javi and for you. They know who you are. They’re watching you.

Javier knew right then and there that you were no longer safe from the reality of this cruel world. His home had been tainted. His sanctuary had burned to the ground. This was all his fault. He shouldn’t have asked you out the night Steve’s wife Connie introduced you. He shouldn’t have called you back for a second and third date. He shouldn’t have made love to you. He shouldn’t have fallen in love with you, but he did.

He fell hard for you, and the worst part is you fell just as hard for him too, even when there were so many signs from his job alone telling you to leave him. This package was the biggest sign of them all.

As much as he loved you, Javier wouldn’t have blamed you one bit if you decided to break up with him. He expected it to happen sooner or later, but despite everything you still chose to stay. “Javier, I love you. We’re in this together no matter what.”

“I promise, cariño, I’m done when this is over. I love you. I want you to marry me. I want you to be the mother of my children. I want to start a new life with you.”

“I want that too, Javi, so much.”

—

Life only seemed to get harder ever since the package delivery scene. As if it wasn’t enough to try and protect himself and Steve on a daily basis, now you were added to the mix. Even though he knew during the day you were safe with Connie at work, on the inside he still worried himself to death over you. He needed to know where you were at every hour of the day and to know you were safe. Steve tried to convince Javi to think of you as one of the former informants he used to sleep with and toss to the back burner while on the job, but Javi couldn’t if he tried. He didn’t love them. He loves you.

That’s the problem; you love Javier. You don’t want to be without him. You and Javier belong together. So why are you still fighting the thought of leaving him? Why are you still looking for any excuse to pack your things and walk away from Colombia and from Javi forever? Why can’t you do it when he flat out tells you “if you want to leave then leave”?

Ever since the delivery, you felt your love for Javier and your sanity struggling to balance on a sewing thread. You couldn’t get the image of the lifeless body parts out of your head. The face of the poor woman haunted you in your sleep. It was as if you were watching like a fly on the wall as her life was being taken away just for a few of her remains to be on your doorstep. And for what? Why did it have to take harming an innocent woman to scare you?

Javier could feel you slipping away from him. Every time he tried to pull you back down to earth, it only ended in an argument. He didn’t like going to bed with your back facing him. He didn’t like ending every fight with giving you the opportunity to leave him for good. He didn’t like going to bed angry and waking up to you not talking to him. He didn’t like hearing you silently sob yourself back to sleep after your reoccurring nightmares, but he had no choice. You weren’t the same anymore. He hated his job for fucking up his own sanity, but he hated it even more for destroying the one good thing he was given in his life; you.

—

After a month of trying to overcome everything by yourself, you finally decided to seek professional help from one of the therapists the DEA provided. Connie recommended for you to see her therapist, Trinidad, after Javier came to Connie desperate for some advice.

Trinidad understood the confidentiality of the ongoing investigation, so she didn’t press you for details. You explained to her about your nightmares and your relationship with Javi. In the end she was only there to let you talk her ear off and prescribe you with anxiety and anti-depressant medication. If it wasn’t for the obvious reasons, you could’ve just called your mom or best friend and did all this from home for free.

By the time Javi came home from work that night, you were already in bed with your back facing his side. You weren’t asleep—God knows you haven’t had a decent sleep in a month—instead you just stared blankly at the wall in front of you. Feeling Javi’s body weight taking his place on his side of the bed, you waited anxiously for the sound of his faint snore to signal it was time for you to yet again sob yourself to sleep.

However, you felt the weight change and suddenly his body was pressed against your back. One of his hands caressed your hip as he began trailing gentle kisses from your shoulder, to your neck, all the way to the shell of your ear.

“Cariño, come back to me, por favor.” He whispered.

Oh how your body ached for his touch. It feels like forever since he last called you ‘cariño’. You didn’t realize how much you missed him. Even though your body was telling him different, your words were trying to push him away.

“Javi, please, don’t.” You groaned as your head fell backwards and your fingers entangled in his hair.

“Please mi vida. We haven’t made love in so long. I miss you.” His hand ran slowly under your sleepwear, at the same time pushing you gently backwards until your body was fully pressed against him.

You gasped at the feel of his bare body spooning you. The arm that was holding him up snaked under your neck and secured your upper body in place as his other hand slowly massaged your soaking wet clit. A desperate moan escaped your lips and you began grinding yourself on his hand.

“Fuck. I missed you so much, baby.” He groaned against your ear.

“I missed you too, Javi. So. Much.” Your legs began spreading wider until your top leg overlapped his own.

His hand fully engulfed your pussy and his fingers slowly worked their way inside you, massaging your walls as you tightened around him. The sound of your moans making him harder than a rock and you could feel how desperate he was to be inside you by how hard he was dry humping you from the back.

You turned your head to face him with your hand still gripping his hair and your hips grinding harder into his hand. “Kiss me.” You moaned.

He didn’t hold back. Javier kissed you so deeply that it took your breath away. Almost as if you were experiencing it for the first time. In fact, this felt almost similar to when he did make love to you for the first time. He made you feel safe. He made you feel beautiful. He worshipped your body like an absolute goddess, kissing every scar and every beauty mark he could find and devouring you like you were his only meal.

The only restraint you had on him were the clothes you had on and you knew he was getting desperate to tear them off, but he also wanted to take his time with you. He wanted to make you feel good. To release the fear and tension that held you captive from him for the past month. He was desperate just to have you back.

His hand gradually picked up the pace and you whined in pure bliss in his mouth. “Javi… baby… I’m gonna cum.”

“Cum for me, baby. Cum for me.” Javier whispers in between kisses.

Your lips connected once more in a deep breathtaking kiss as you came hard on his hand. Beads of sweat now starting to form on your bodies.

You rode out your high on his hand and continued to kiss him at the same time, cherishing every moment. “I love you.” You moaned in between kisses.

“I love you too. More than anything.” His hand slipped out of your pants and you both adjusted yourselves to where he was now on top of you in a missionary position. “Querida, I don’t want to be without you, but I don’t want you to live in fear with me either. You’re so pure to me, so fragile. I’ll protect you no matter what. Just please, please don’t leave me like that again.”

Tears fell down your face as you stared up at him. Your heart swelled and broke in your chest at the same time. You didn’t realize it until now, but you scared him. The entire month you shut yourself away from him scared him more than any dangerous curveball his job threw at him. He could be sitting face to face with Escobar himself and that didn’t scare him as much as the thought of knowing his last memory of you would be you scared, tired, sad and angry with him. No last kiss, no last ‘see you later my love’, no last lunch time call, no nothing. And at that moment, you hated yourself for being so selfish the past month. “I’m so sorry, Javi. I didn’t realize—“

He shushed you and gently wiped away your tears. “No llores, mi vida. You have nothing to be sorry about. Just promise me you’ll try to talk to me next time. That’s all I ask.”

You immediately nodded and peppered his lips with kisses. “I will. I’m so sorry baby. I love you so much.” You said in between.

“I love you too.” He returned each kiss and embraced your body closer to him.

Your hands gripped at his bare back as your legs wrapped around his waist. “Make love to me, Javi.” You whispered.

Without hesitation he pulled you up high enough to remove your top, exposing your breasts and you helped him remove your shorts and panties until you were just as bare as he was.

Still sitting upright on his knees, he hugged you body close to him as you adjusted yourself on his lap until his tip was pushing inside you. For a brief moment, you and Javi stared lovingly into each others eyes, saying everything you couldn’t spit out into words right now and kissed each other passionately.

Gasping as you sunk down on him, you had to take a moment to adjust to his size. A month felt like an eternity without him inside you. He groaned as your walls clenched around him and he gently pushed himself further inside you, guiding your hips with his hands as he felt you slowly grind down on him and your body relaxing.

“There you go, baby. Relax for me.” He smiled in the kiss.

You broke the kiss to throw your head back from the pleasure, but one of his hands caught the back of your head and guided you back down to him. “No baby, keep your eyes on me.” He begged and you nodded.

Javi wanted to cherish every moment when he would make love to you. He loved the way your body moved perfectly with his, how the sweat covered you from head to toe, the way your eyes desperately tried to stay open to look at him even when he was balls deep inside you. But what he loved most of all was the sounds you made. The praises that spilled from your beautiful lips, letting him know exactly how good he was making you feel. He loved hearing you moan, especially his name. He didn’t care if anyone else in the complex heard them or not, but if they did then he wanted them to know it was him and only him that could make you feel this good. Just as you wanted everyone to know you belong to Javier Peña and Javier Peña belongs to you.

He pushed you backwards until you were back in the missionary position and kissed you once more. His arms hooked your legs over them and he spread you open wider. Biting at your jawline and chin. His thrusts slammed into you harder and deeper, making you and him moan each other’s names louder. Your nails clawed at his back and he hissed.

It must have occurred to both of you subconsciously that he wasn’t wearing protection and you haven’t taken your birth control pills in the past week, but that didn’t slow either of you down.

“I want you to have my babies.” He groaned against your lips and continued thrusting deep into you.

“Then give them to me, Javi.” You moaned.

Javier lost all self restraint at that moment. He gripped tighter at your legs as his thrusts became faster and deeper, making you cry out for him even louder.

“Ahh, Javi… oh god! So! Fucking! Good!”

“You’re so fucking perfect cariño. All mine.”

You could feel that both of you are so close. His thrusts became sloppy and desperate as you fell apart underneath him.

“Are you ready, my love?” He kissed you once more and tried to keep eye contact with you.

“Give me your babies, Javi.”

And just like that, you both came undone hard at the same time and quivered in each others embrace.

Javi stayed on top of you and kept himself buried deep inside you as if he was afraid of spilling out. You smiled up at him and kissed him passionately once more.

“There’s that beautiful smile I missed so much.”

You giggled. “I’m never leaving you again.”

#javier peña #javier peña narcos #javier peña x reader #javier peña smut #javier peña x y/n #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña imagine #narcos fanfiction #narcos imagine #pedro pascal x reader

[killing-time-w-kaz]

I just got off the phone with my friends.

One of my friends and I have basically adopted two underclassmen, especially with how rough things have been the last six months. The sophomore is so stressed and upset with the most recent bombing of Israel, since her family is there. She told us how scared she is that her grandmother is there and how the current missiles can penetrate bomb shelters. And how people on her campus are fucking celebrating this.

I had dinner w my senior friend and our adopted freshman tonight and we had to take the phone away from my “co-parent” because she just kept checking Instagram to keep track of where alarms were going off. She had just gotten off the phone with her cousins in Israel and she won’t be able to contact them for the future since the signals are getting scrambled. She doesn’t know when she will hear from her cousins next.

This is reminding me of October and I don’t like it one bit. We have 5 weeks left until graduation. We are emotionally frayed. It is exhausting being around people who celebrate when our friends and family are in danger. I’m not surprised at the lack of humanity from my classmates, but it’s so exhausting. Especially when people we thought we could trust perpetuate antisemitism and are silent after doing their little performative activism.

Don’t think I don’t see you, cowards. Some of you can’t be bothered to stand up for Jews unless they fit your perfect narrative. I don’t even have to say I know you wouldn’t lift a finger if a pogram happened, because that’s exactly what you’ve been doing for the last 6 months.

It is so fucking upsetting watching my friends in pain. I want nothing more than to erase that pain and fix everything. And knowing that while I can just keep showing up, I only have 7 more weeks to do so before going off grid.

#jewblr #jumblr #antisemitism #i/p

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Runaway - Chapter Seven.

Eeeeeek, here it is, then. Le bomb. Huge thanks to you all for your diligence in reading and engaging, I’m thrilled you like it! I’m going to lower the note count to 30 for the remaining chapters. All at your own pace, besties! 

Previous chapters - Prologue  One  Two  Three  Four  Five  Six

Taglist - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed

Words - 1,928

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, minors DNI!

“Come on, Julia Roberts. Get that butt inside.”  

Hannah snort laughed at her stepmother’s words, sinking into her embrace as she entered her childhood home. The smell of her perfume was comforting to her, just as it always had been. Hannah had only been two years old when her birth mother had died, sadly not surviving the triple negative breast cancer that had taken her life at just thirty years old, and thus not remembering her at all.  

At Jackie’s insistence, pictures of Lydia remained within the home, though, for the two children she’d left behind, so her presence was always there. Ever since she’d arrived in their lives when Hannah was three and a half, though, Jackie had been mom. They considered themselves very lucky as a family, that Jackie, still so young at only twenty-four, had taken on the role of mother to her and Steven with such ease and efficiency, fitting into the family unit perfectly.  

Steven always called her Jackie, but for Hannah, because she had no memories of Lydia, had called her mom quite soon into her meeting and moving in with her father, something Jackie had never expected, but adored all the same. “I made banana bread, it’s just cooling. Here, take a seat. Dad is out with the dogs, but he should be home soon.”  

The scent was wafting throughout the house, filling the air, Jackie’s baking skills legendary within the Gray family. Hannah sat herself down at the kitchen table, toeing her flipflops off, giving her toes a little wiggle as she was presented with a large mug of coffee. “How are you feeling?”

God, how was she feeling? Four days on and she was still relieved, but it hung over her, how awful she’d been to jilt someone. “Like I’ve been through a little war!” Her confession was met by a nod, Jackie sitting down as Hannah continued. “It feels selfish, though, like I shouldn’t get to feel like that after abandoning my fiancé at the altar. I know it was terrible, mom, I do, but...”

“Han, stop.” Jackie was well used to it by now, her stepdaughter’s penchant for spiralling when she finally came to her senses and began to think – often too late – over the consequences of her impulsive actions. “All of this was emotionally tasking on you, too. Me and the family, we’re all just glad you finally did make the right decision, because I can tell you, dad and I did not relish it one bit, having to bear witness to you marrying that man.”

Her reassurance was nice to hear, but still, Hannah panicked about the chaos in the wake of her decision. “Yes, but then I think of all the stress I caused in the time following, I mean, the venue was all set up, what the hell happened to all of that food? Who went in and smoothed it all over? What about the gifts, everything else, the people we’d booked for entertainment?”

“Dad and I sorted it all. The food went to the local homeless shelter, we told people to take back their gifts, and the band and magician had already been paid, so when they turned up, the venue explained simply that the wedding hadn’t gone ahead. It was no bother. Wendy attempted to make it a bother, but sweetie, trust and believe mommy here shot her the heck down.” she frowned, adding a whisper of ‘can’t stand that effing woman’ before blowing her coffee and taking a careful sip.  

“Yeah, Ange told me!” she chuckled, Jackie winking. “You look like you enjoyed that far too much.”

“She’s a stuck-up old broad who never thought you were good enough for her perfect son. It’s because she’s never done anything but dote on him and tell him how perfect he is that he’s like this, always needing his own way, because he’s never been told no before. Oh, she threw some s-h-i-t at me, I can tell you.” It always entertained Hannah, that Jackie never swore, often spelling out her swears, or using effing instead of fucking.  

“What did she throw at you? She told me that I was a disgrace. I received the obligatory angry text message,” Hannah asked, sipping her coffee and welcoming Buster, the family cat onto her lap, the ginger tabby settling to begin making biscuits upon her thigh. Thank heavens she was wearing jeans, because Buster never let a thing like bare legs get in the way of his dough kneading.  

“Oh, she threw it all at me, how you were never good enough for him, much too independent, yadda, yadda. And then for some bizarre reason, she brings up the fact that your dad is seventeen years older than me, which puzzled the heck out of me so much, I just laughed. She didn’t take too well to that. Your dad called her a vile old witch and we left at that point. I mean honestly, the woman didn’t have anything cogent. Much too independent, hah! With how he controlled every last facet of your relationship?” She sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Jesus, I’m so glad you didn’t go through with it. Yeah, it was bad to jilt him, but heavens, it was a relief for us that you did!”

“Yep, no more Wendy, for one thing.”

Jackie burst out laughing, just as the front door opened. “Exactly!”  

“Do I smell banana bread?” her dad called, letting the dogs off their leashes, Piggy and Buddy flying in to greet Hannah with lots of slobbery kisses, Buster receiving a thorough grooming, too. If the cat could have spoken, he would have stated that he mildly tolerated he presence of the two boisterous American bulldogs within his home, but the truth was, he loved them, always curling up with them for cuddles and grooming of a night, playing with them in the day, and batting them with his paws in reprimand when they got too much for his preferred lackadaisical pace.

“You do, but it doesn’t mean you get to inhale the entire thing like Homer Simpson,” Jackie called back, Rob appearing in the doorway.  

“You ruin all my fun.” He greeted his daughter with one of his bone crunching hugs, Hannah finding herself humorously being swayed violently from side to side, as her dad always did. “You’ve no idea how glad I am not to be hugging Mrs Hansen!”

“Everything else aside, so am I!”

“Everything else? What do you mean, everything else? Is he being difficult?” No. It did not take much for Rob Gray to venture into protective daddy mode.

“He isn’t, no. I arrived back from Shonda’s the following morning to find he’d already started moving out, Catherine turned up in a U-Haul, so it was one clean sweep. No, I just meant that I still feel prickled by what I did, regardless of knowing that it was the right thing to do.”  

Her dad nodded, pouring himself a coffee from the pot, his hand hovering near the baked goods currently perfuming the air.  

“One more move towards that banana bread and you’ll feel my apron over the back of your legs! Let it cool!” Jackie threatened, removing it from where she’d placed it over the back of her chair, shaking it in his direction.  

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” he winked, coming to sit down, Hannah in soft fits. “Right thing, maybe slightly wrong timing, kid. But, as I’ve been saying endlessly to your mom, I’m just fucking glad you did.”

“Language!” Jackie chastised, Rob grabbing her hands and kissing them.  

“Oh, oh, she’s disciplinary this afternoon!” As Hannah sat and watched her parents enter one of their hilarious little badinage exchanges, she marvelled to herself. What they had, it was what she wanted, someone she had that spark with, that vibe. Michael had been so rigid in that respect, often calling her parents immature because they still had a lot of fun with one another.  

God, the wool she’d pulled over her own eyes in convincing herself she was happy, it was double knitted. It must have been, for her not to see years before just how much he truly wasn’t the guy for her. It flashed through her mind then, sitting in that bar next to Manny as they laughed hysterically, Hannah realising she’d probably laughed more in one afternoon with a perfect stranger than she had with Michael in the entirety of their six-year relationship.  

Manny. As the days stretched into weeks following their meeting, she did want to call him. She truly did, yet what came flying at her over those weeks, eventually months, well, she found herself with much more concerning things on her mind. That wasn’t to say she didn’t reach out to him again, though, when she knew she really, really had to.  

“Well, ain’t you a blast from the past, Hannah banana,” Manny spoke upon answering his phone, walking outside of the clubhouse so he could hear her over the sound of Coco being his usual, noisy self. “What can I do for you?”

“I need to see you, Manny. Are you free this afternoon?” He thought it perplexing, that the woman he’d had a one-night stand with nearly exactly a year ago was calling him up again, presumably for more of the same when in truth, he’d thought she’d forgotten all about him.  

“I am, but if it’s for what I think it is, I ain’t in the market for that. I’m with someone.”

“Oh, god no. Nothing like that, I promise. But it is serious, though.” His senses tingled at hearing that, wondering what it was, getting a cold wave suddenly go through him when he remembered being contacted by an ex a few months after he’d had sex with Hannah, telling him to get himself tested for HPV, of which he’d found out he had. Oh, dear. He expected he was about to get busted right in the chops.  

“Alright, do you know where Romero Brothers is?” She said she didn’t but would get there with the aid of Google maps giving her directions, the call ending, leaving him to wince his way back into the clubhouse.  

“Hey yo, what’s with the face?” Angel called to him. “You’ve gone whiter than my wife, and that’s saying something.” He received an elbow in the side from the lady herself, Lily pursing her lips.  

“I am not that pale!”

He snorted. “Baby, you make copy paper look like it's got colour!” Turning back to Manny, he lifted his chin. “So, the face. What gives?”

“I think I’m about to get a smackdown from a girl, and I’ll leave it at that until she arrives.” he spoke cryptically, picking up his beer and draining it. Half an hour passed until a small, white SUV pulled up in the yard, Manny seeing Hannah climb out, opening up the back of the car and disappearing from view. “Oh yeah, she got a baseball bat in there or some shit. Fuck my damned life.” he muttered to himself, looking down at his feet.  

When he lifted his head again, he saw what she’d gone in the back of the vehicle to retrieve, and it most definitely wasn’t a weapon.  

“So, this is ten shades of difficult, and I don’t really know where to begin, so I’m just going to come out and say it,” Hannah stated as she walked over, Manny feeling his eyes bulge, his heart pounding in shock. “Manny, this is Lola. Your daughter.”  

#manny mayans mc #manny mayans mc fanfiction #manny mayans mc imagine #manny mayans mc smut #manny mayans mc x ofc #manny montana #manny montana fanfiction #manny montana imagine #manny montana smut #manny montana x ofc #mayans mc #mayans mc fanfiction #mayans mc imagine #mayans mc smut #mayans mc fanfic #mayans mc fic

[bad-time-storys]

I want to talk about Israel for a second, currently there are bombs launching towards Israel. I don't want to put anyone in panick, the Israel's military is going to stop the people who are lanching the bombs. I'm posting this because I don't think people know how it feels to wake up at six in the morning and hear alarms going off telling you to go and find cover cus there are bombs in the sky.

I talked to my neighbors about this and they're in deny, they can't believe what's happening. Is it scary knowing what's going out side? Yes, very much. I needed to go to the shelter at least 3 times.

But you know what is the most annoying about this? After all of this ends, who do you think will be in the wrong? Who do you think will be blamed for the chaos? Probably Israel, even when they (launching bombs people) launch at us at in the middle of school or work or midnight or early morning or literally any part of the day. We are in the wrong, when Israel is just trying to protect it's people.

I know this is a really long post but I think it's important to put this out there.

For everyone in Israel and maybe scared

אל תדאגו, זה עוד יעבור. ישראל היתה נגד דברים קשים יותר. אני מאחלת לכולם/ן שההזעקות ירגעו ושהמשפחות שלכן/ם בטוחות ❤️

Translation: Don't worry, it will end. Israel was against more difficult things. I wish the alarms will calm down and that your families are safe ❤️

#Israel #ישראל

[cavillanche]

Cuddliest Avenger

Kayla has been best friends with Clint Barton for years. He finds her after the battle of New York and takes care of her.

Rated T ~1,600 words

-----------------------------------

As soon as Clint realized that Kayla had been in Stark Tower through the entire battle for New York, he was running through the halls.

"Kayla!"

Tony said the evacuation plan would call for anyone inside to head to a secure basement area. Practically a bomb shelter. Best there was.

He hit the large metal door.

"Kayla!"

Of course she wouldn't hear him. He punched the code into the security panel and the air seal released, allowing him to pull the door open.

"Kayla!"

"Clint?"

His eyes scanned through the crowd in the large room until he spotted her. He exhaled, relieved, and moved toward her until he was able to wrap his arms around her.

"Clint, what the hell is going on out there?"

"I'll tell you about it later. It's over."

He held her at arms length and looked her over.

"You ok?"

"Me? I'm fine. You look like you've been through war."

"I was."

"How bad was it?"

"Bad. Come on." He grabbed her hand and turned to the rest of the group. "Everyone can leave, but prepare yourself... there's a lot of damage up there."

No one moved.

"Come on, guys, let's go. Find your families. Come on."

He started guiding people toward the door, but never let Kayla out of his sight. The thought of her being in the same building as Loki, knowing what Loki was capable of... she would freak out when he told her what happened to him.

Once everyone was out, Clint grabbed her hand again. He led her to the ground floor and outside. She stared, eyes wide, her hand over her mouth.

"Where's Nat? Stark?"

"They're both ok. Got some new faces for you to meet, too. They're finishing up with some cop stuff, then we're heading over to this shawarma place that Tony wants to try."

"Seriously? That's what Tony thinks of after everything that happened that caused this?" She motioned around to the destruction.

"Hey, fighting aliens works up an appetite."

"I'm sorry... fighting what?"

"Later. I promise."

He started to walk away, but she tugged his hand.

"Hey, have you called Laura? Does she know you're ok? I mean, I didn't have a tv down there, but I'm sure this was all over the news."

Clint smiled. "I called. She said to do this when I found you."

He hugged her so tight that her feet came off the ground.

"Right, because Laura can lift me up," Kayla giggled.

"I'm just doing what I was told. Let's go."

Kayla held back tears as they walked down the street. It would take a long time to get the city back to normal.

Clint tried to shield her from the bodies, both human and alien, that littered their path, but it was impossible.

Inside the restaurant, Natasha and Tony sat with a few others. They all looked battered and exhausted. Natasha gave her a weak smile, but no one said a word.

"Hey, guys," Clint said, "this is Kayla." He pointed around the table. "That's Steve, Thor, and Bruce."

Everyone gave a nod. Clint picked up an overturned chair and sat it next to the only empty one at the table left for him. They all ate in silence.

Kayla traced some cuts and scrapes on Clint's arm and he grabbed her hand.

"I'm fine."

"I know."

"So," Thor's booming voice cut through the silence, "Hawk... man—"

"Name's Clint."

"Is this your lady love?"

Kayla and Clint both chuckled, and Natasha shook her head, smiling.

"No, she's not."

"But you're so..."

"Sickening is what they are," Tony said. "I know I thought you two were a couple the first time I saw you together."

"We're just friends," Kayla said.

"Best friends." Clint winked.

"You should just hook up and get it over with."

"Leave them alone, Tony," Natasha said.

"Do I sense jealousy?"

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Do you know me to be the jealous type?"

"Does anyone really know you?"

She smirked.

Kayla sighed. "Have you seen my apartment building? Is it still standing?"

"No idea. We can go check it out."

"I need to. If it's still there you can clean up. Nat, you want to come?"

"No, I have some things to take care of."

Clint and Kayla stood.

"It was nice to meet you all. Maybe I'll see you again under better circumstances."

As they walked through the streets, Clint kept stopping to help people; pointing them to cops, the relief crew, or checkpoints that were being set up for anyone who couldn't get in touch with their families. Cell towers were either down over overloaded. Kayla helped him when she could.

As they approached her street there was a little less debris, which gave her some hope. Finally seeing her building, she breathed a sigh of relief.

"It's still in one piece."

"Most of the fighting was centralized a few blocks over. You were lucky."

"Was I? Or did a certain superhero keep those things away from my street?"

"I have no idea what you mean."

"Sure." She punched him in the shoulder.

"Ow. Abuse." He rubbed his arm.

"Such a drama queen."

As they got closer, several guys came out of her building carrying tv's and other expensive items. Kayla slowed her walk.

"That doesn't look good."

Clint wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a quicker pace.

"Stay close."

They ducked inside and took the stairs to the fifth floor. Clint pushed her behind him when he realized a lot of the doors on her floor were open. He notched an arrow into his bow.

"Hold onto me so I know you're there. Keep an eye behind you, though."

They eased down the hallway and Clint checked around her doorframe before entering her apartment. The living room looked fine, but as they rounded a corner to her bedroom Clint raised his bow.

"Put the laptop down."

The man froze at Clint's command. He looked over his shoulder at Clint.

"I've had a long day. I'm not interested in fighting or arresting you, just put that down and get out."

The intruder put the laptop back on the desk. Clint circled around the bed, Kayla still clinging to him from behind, as the man slowly walked to the door.

"I want to hear the front door shut when you leave."

A moment later, there was a slam.

"Stay here."

Clint left the bedroom, arrow at the ready, and came back a minute later.

"All clear. Damn looters."

Kayla threw her arms around him. "I'm so glad you came with me. He could have killed me."

"Nah. He wasn't armed. Just an opportunist."

"Clint, that man was in my apartment. In my bedroom."

"Come here." He pulled her into a hug. "You're ok. You know I won't let anything happen to you."

"I know, but if you hadn't been here—"

"But I was. End of story. And I'm staying. Your lock is broken."

"Great."

"I told Laura I'd likely have to hang around, anyway."

"I have the landline if you want to call her."

"Yeah. She'll be glad to know you're ok."

Clint grabbed the cordless phone from its base and called his wife while he followed Kayla around the apartment. She went through everything to make sure nothing was missing.

"Hey, babe. I'm with Kayla. — Yeah, looters are out. Some guy was in her apartment, so — Yep. That's what I was thinking. You good for a few more days? — Love you. Bye."

Clint put the phone back on the charger.

"Laura says hi, and that she'll kick my ass if I don't stay and make sure you're ok."

"I love that woman."

"Get in line. I'll go move some furniture in front of the door, then I'm taking a shower. I'm covered in all kinds of stuff."

"You could be covered in sewage and I wouldn't kick you out right now."

"Ha! Liar."

"I think I have some of your stuff from the last time you stayed here."

"Great, because this outfit isn't comfortable for sleeping."

After they were both showered, they sat together on the sofa.

"I'm exhausted," Clint said.

"I can't even imagine."

"You must be, too. Adrenaline crash will wipe you out."

"Believe me, once my head hits that pillow..."

"Then why aren't you in bed?"

"The looter has me freaked out. He was in my bedroom, Clint."

"But I'm here. Nothing to worry about."

"Just... the thought of sleeping in there. I feel violated."

"Come on." He took her hand and led her to the bedroom. "Get in. No arguing."

"Clint—"

"What did I just say?"

"Who are you, my father?"

"Get in the bed."

"Fine."

Kayla slid under the covers and lay on her side, then Clint turned out the light. He straightened the comforter, then lay on top of it, and snuggled up close behind her.

"I'll stay until you're asleep."

Kayla took a deep breath. "What would I do without you?"

He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer. "You'll never have to find out."

#Jeremy Renner #Clint Barton #Hawkeye #The Avengers #Clint Barton fic #Hawkeye fic #Avengers fic #Jeremy Renner fic #my fic #I made this

[w-artie]

In Italy we have this song which is called "Tu scendi dalle stelle" literally something like "You come down from the stars". It's a Christian song, we sing it in churches around the Christmas holiday. it's about Jesus as a baby, that came down from the stars just to lay in a cold crib. it says "oh my Divine Baby, I see you shivering here, oh Blessed Lord, how much did it cost You to love me?". it is impossibly sweet as many Christmas songs are. it makes something melt inside of me every time I listen to it and to any other Christmas songs that have the same feeling, because they are all lullabies, as we were in Bethlehem with the Holy Family singing to Baby Jesus to make him sleep. it's what you do to a baby, you sing him songs that are so full of love to make him sleep safe and sound. it is how it's supposed to be.

this year those songs hit harder than usual, because everything I can think of is those mothers in Palestine that don't have any child to sing their lullaby to. they make me think about those children who won't hear those lullabies from their parents anymore. it makes me think that while I am singing to a Baby born thousands of years ago, babies born right now die before they have the chance to hear even a single note of a song. children there fall asleep with the sound of bombs and warnings, and some of them don't wake up the next day, and we don't care. this is not how it is supposed to be.

And what breaks me the most is how we go around decorating for the holidays, wearing red and exchanging gifts, we wish each other a merry Christmas forgetting the genocide happening exactly where our Lord was born. Forgetting how, if Jesus was to be born in this century, he wouldn't choose Europe or the States. He would be coming down from the stars just to lay in a cold crib of a cold hospital, without lights nor medicine, without food nor shelter. He would be shivering and starving and if He was lucky he would have just his Mother to sing a lullaby to Him, between a bomb and a cry for help.

#palestine #gaza under attack #gaza strip #free gaza #save gaza #free palestine 🇵🇸 #free congo #free yemen #free them all #christianity #christmas #jesus christ #virgin mary #this christmas #when you are in you warm homes surroundend by family and pray out Lord #dont forget them

[andiinaraethtash]

Rating:

General Audiences

Archive Warning:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category:

Gen

Fandoms:

Batman - All Media Types

Batman: Death in the Family (Movie 2020)

Relationships:

Dick Grayson & Jason Todd

Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne (mentioned)

Characters:

Dick Grayson

Jason Todd

Bruce Wayne (Mentioned)

Alfred Pennyworth (mentioned) - Character

Additional Tags:

Fluff

Angst

Fluff and Angst

in that order

Bruce Wayne is Bad at Communicating

Dick Grayson is Nightwing

Jason Todd is Robin

look I heard a song and it gave me feelings so now I'm giving you all feelings

Song: Chasing the Sun (Sara Bareilles)

Language: English

Summary:

"You said, remember that life is Not meant to be wasted We can always be chasing the sun!" --Chasing the Sun, by Sara Bareilles Dick Grayson contemplates graveyards, cities, and the weight of living in a world above others

Notes:

For @itsybitsybatsyspider

So I've never published in this fandom before. So this is fun. Also I don't know if I've done an independent one-shot before. So that is also fun. Enjoy! PS also hi Itsy! This one's for you!

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

“My earth is somebody’s ceiling,” the song rang out, and Nightwing laughs as the Batmobile roars so loud it almost drowns out the music, which is already turned up obscenely loud. Next to him in the passenger seat, Robin shrieks, and Nightwing has to glance over to make sure he’s alright, because with Jay, it could go either way, but he’s grinning right now, so he’s probably enjoying himself.

That’s good. Dick doesn’t hang out with just him nearly enough, and when they do get to, he wants it to be a good time. After all, the rest of the time it’s the two of them and Bruce, which is never a good time. Quite the opposite, in fact. Just the thought of the man makes Dick’s blood boil, so of course he quickly forces those thoughts out of his mind, choosing to start belting along with Sara Bareilles.

“More than that, it’s to dare us to move!” he sings, purposely hitting the notes just ever-so-slightly off-key, making Jason swat him and shriek at him.

“Dickhead, you’re ruining it!”

“You said, that life is, not meant to be wasted!” He sings teasingly looking over at Jason, who rolls his eyes.

“My hearing’s being wasted, that’s what’s happening.” He’s nearly shouting to be heard over the music, but he’s not scowling.

Dick laughs long and loud as the chorus blares loudly for the last time, then as the music dies, he pauses it and pulls over, pulling out the McDonald’s bag as he pops the doors. “C’mon, Robin, let’s get some altitude!”

Robin rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t manage to hide the smile. In a matter of seconds, they’re on the roof of the high-rise apartment building, where Nightwing plops down on the edge of the roof and offers Robin his share of the fries they’d gotten before their little joyride.

As Robin joins him, kicking his feet in the empty air between the buildings, Dick sighs and relaxes, letting himself droop somewhat as he looks out over the city. They’d left early to beat Batman to the Batmobile, and with it being the middle of summer, sunset was absurdly late, a series of circumstances that left the skyscrapers’ silhouettes standing in sharp relief against the greying evening sky.

“Dude, this is freakin’ awesome!” Robin exclaims around a mouthful of fries, making Nightwing look over at him in amusement.

“‘Freakin?’ What happened to the kid who drops f-bombs every few words?”

Robin rolls his eyes. “I got made ta put five bucks in a actual swear jar, that’s what happened. Which is a stupid-ass rule, but whatever.”

He doesn’t say it, but there’s an unsaid, ‘it’s worth the food and shelter to go along with it,’ and Nightwing lets a small sympathetic smile play across his lips.

“Yeah. Can’t say I had one of those. Instead it was one dollar for every piece of furniture, art, or wall I damaged, and ten for the chandeliers.”

Robin smirks, looking at him out of the corner of his eye. “Wow, that’s what, a couple hundred thousand dollars?”

“Brat,” Nightwing says, swatting him upside the head.

“Am I wrong?”

Technically, no. It had only been a few hundred bucks, but… “Maybe not entirely,” he admits, and Robin laughs, the sound echoing across the city-scape. There was something about the way it bounced around that could have been eerie, but instead it was… comforting. Light-hearted. Care-free, the way Robin should be.

On an impulse, Nightwing shoves the rest of his fries into his mouth, waits a beat for Robin to finish his off, then grabs the boy’s arm and tugs him to his feet. “C’mon, race you to the Clocktower?”

Robin’s eyes seem to light up, even hidden by his mask, and Nightwing takes that as the answer it is.

“Go!” They shout almost at the same time as they take off across the rooftops, grappling across the larger gaps but throwing themselves across the smaller ones.

Nightwing is trying so hard not to laugh, his lungs too busy with the effort of running to waste his breath, but he wants to, by God does he want to. It was exhilarating, leaping through the maze of buildings, each different and unique and yet somehow so recognizably Gotham that he knew he would know each building individually as a part of his home city. There were apartment buildings from the eighties, office buildings from the last few years, stores and hotels and restaurants, all making up a bustling city that thrived despite the chaos.

Beneath his feet, he can almost imagine the lives of the ordinary civilians, thrumming along to hte rhythm of his heartbeat. It’s a heavy realization, to realize that they’re dancing over what the rest of the world would consider their ceiling, to know how much bigger and crazier their worlds are. But that weight is worth it, for the freedom to fly across the city like they are.

Tumbling across a gravel roof, he spots Robin somewhere to his left, vaulting over an air vent, and for the split second their eyes meet and Dick recognizes the look on Jason’s face. It’s the look of wonder he had when he landed his first trick on the trapeze in Haly’s. It’s the pride he’d taken in being able to do what so few others could. It’s the joy in being able to go out there and make a difference in others’ lives, in landing a punch, in outsmarting one of the ‘intellectual’ Rogues.

Yeah, okay. This kid was definitely a Robin.

There’s been a part of him, since he’d stumbled home to Wayne Manor to find another boy in his family’s colors, that had denied that Jason could—or should—have any part in that legacy, but right now, he didn’t know why he’d ever doubted it.

In the end, it doesn’t matter who reaches the Clocktower first, because the moment they get there, Jason looks up at Nightwing, grinning, and Nightwing grins right back reaching out to ruffle Jason’s hair.

“You did good, Robin.”

Live like we’re still alive

____________

From the ground beneath my feet…

He’s not quite sure why he’s here, other than that Alfred suggested it. The cemetery is quiet, but not silent. He can hear the light traffic from the nearest road, and of course the birds singing their overly cheery summer tunes. Even from here, he can almost hear the heartbeat of the city across the river, Gotham still alive despite the loss he’s only recently discovered.

The landscape is… nice, Dick supposes. He’s seen worse graveyards. Definitely destroyed creepier ones in fights against Scarecrow and Ivy. There’s not much tree cover, leaving the area sunny and vaguely warm, cooled mostly by the summer breeze.

He’s trying so hard not to look at the grave markers, the plinths and tombstones and occasional mausoleum, instead keeping his gaze fixed firmly on the city in the distance. It’s almost uncanny, how much the far-off buildings look like the stones surrounding him. They’re larger, obviously, but that tower looks like that plinth, and that tombstone is almost identical to that apartment building he can just make out—

The resemblance isn’t entirely inaccurate or superficial, he thinks. That this cemetery is a small city, its occupants as ignorant of the world above them as the people of the city are of Dick’s world at above them.

He’s walking through the paths between the markers, absentmindedly noting how each one is different and unique and so identifiable he’d know them anywhere, different in age and shape but united by what they represent.

His footsteps are heavy, a weight hanging on his shoulders as he walks to the area Alfred had shown him all those years ago. He knows intellectually, of course, that Bruce had insisted on burying Jason with Bruce’s parents, and the generations of Waynes that came before them, but that doesn’t stop the snag of irritation that Jason’s nowhere near his mom, or the city he’d protected.

Stuck between the dead and the living…

He’d swear every footfall is landing further into the ground, the familiar weight of grief pushing him down until finally he has to bow his head under the weight. He’s no stranger to grief, of course. He’s lost friends, teammates… family—but never someone so young and innocent and good. It’s anathema, almost, that Robin, brave, resilient, magic Robin is gone, but as Dick comes up on the newest tombstone, he knows he has to accept it.

Idly, he wonders if Jason’s at peace, if he’s happy wherever he is, if he could ever forgive Dick for leaving him alone with Bruce, stubborn, paranoid, doubting Bruce, who Dick knew wasn’t going to let Jason spread his wings when he needed to and yet had left him there anyway. Damn him for his unshakeable belief that Batman was good and infallible. There’s no way of knowing how things might have happened if Dick had stayed or if he’d taken Jason with him, but he wants to think he could have saved him.

The crunch of the grass under his heels as he crouches in front of the white marble rings out with his heartbeat like a symphony across the graveyard, and he almost sighs at the sound, a sound that means life, except he knows that the sound couldn’t reach below him to where Jason is now resting.

“Come on, Dickhead, don’t tell me your old-man joints are giving out on you,” he could almost hear Jason’s mocking, and shakes his head to clear it away when he almost reaches out to tussle Jason’s hair, only to stop when his fingers hit cold marble instead of a warm person.

Glancing over at the nearest tombstone, one shared by Bruce’s parents, he notes distantly how different and yet similar the dates on there are to the ones on Jason’s gravestone. Jason was born roughly a decade later, yes, but their lives were all cut too short, the dates too close together.

A deep breath fills his lungs, but catches on the way out as he tries to find words that say something, anything, about the boy who should have been his brother, if he’d just gotten his head out of his ass and had paid attention to the boy and the way he’d looked up to Dick.

So instead of trying to say anything about Jason, he just tells him one simple phrase, hoping it tells him exactly what Dick had never said to him in life.

“You did good, Jason. You did good.”

—Always be chasing the sun—

Notes:

Look, I was having feelings, okay, so any tears produced are entirely not my fault. Comments feed the soul, so let me know what you guys think--but please no criticism. I'm in a good mood for once, I really don't want that ruined. If you see a grammatical error, lemme know, but no hate. Here or anywhere, preferably.

#fanfiction #creative writing #writing #batfam #dick grayson #jason todd #pre- and post-Death in the Family #it'll make sense when you read it #brotherly bonding #brotherly feels #look I'm sad so now you're sad

[whyshedisappeared]

you know what, fuck this shit. im going to be as politically incorrect as possible so all of you antisemitic assholes that still follow me will finally block me. if you really do care about supporting the people suffering you are more than welcomed to dm me or send me an ask and i would love to have a conversation with you, if you're just looking for someone to hate- well, here's your way to find that someone.

i dont give a fuck about the palestinian people. that is where the terrorists that murdered my friend came from. that is where the terrorists that murdered my dad's uncle and cousin came from, a father and son that we lost. that is where the people that made it so i have to pay more tax money so they will have gas, water and electricity come from. they are not part of my country, why do i have to take care of them?

they are the reason my brother is laying on the ground, covering his head with his hands, and hoping nothing happens when a missile is shot down. because he is protecting our country- our children, our parents, our elderly.

they are the reason i had to run a 4year old and a toddler to a bomb shelter, crying and screaming for their parents who are at work, while trying to make sure their parents know their babies are safe.

they are the reason i live in a country riddled in trauma, death and destruction. a country that is forever at war. a country where a 23 year old isn't about to finish his degree, but buried 2meters underground while his family cries for their loss. a country where you need to have a day of mourning every year for CHILDREN we lost at war, and terror attacks and to hate.

a mother does not have to worry about her 18 year old baby coming home alive, she should be worried if her baby's doing okay at uni and if they had enough food to eat today.

instead i live in a country where children, instead of having fire drills and tornado drills and tsunami drills, have missile drills. where a 3 year old knows what the sound of a missile alarm sounds like and that after you hear the big, window shaking boom, you need to wait for 10 minutes in the missile shelter that you had to get to within 6 seconds of the alarm starting. or if you're outside- lay on the ground, cover your head, hope for the best.

i live in a country where i watched a mother explain to her 4 year old what terrorists are why we can't leave the house right now but in a way that doesn't make him want to run to the missile shelter and stay there forever.

i live in a country where on Saturday, Oct. 7th, at 6:30 am, we woke up to a missile alarm, like we sometimes do because it's israel and missiles being shot at us happens even during a cease fire, and ended the day with terrorists infiltrating villages, murdering 1,200+ people, kidnapping over 150 people. in one single day. this is the largest number of jews that were murdered in a single day since the holocaust. entire families, no- entire communities were massacred. from day old babies to elderly. no one was spared. and it's getting worse.

[ridenwithbiden]

Hundreds of targets have been hit in Gaza by Israel following the Saturday incursion from Hamas terrorists, the group that controls the Palestinian territory of Gaza. More than 200 targets were struck in Gaza by Israeli forces in just one day, according to authorities.

In Gaza, at least 900 people have died -- among them 260 children and 230 women -- and another 4,500 have been wounded since Saturday, according to the latest numbers from Palestinian officials.

In Israel, at least 900 people have been killed and 2,600 others injured.

Palestinians in the Gaza Strip say they are living in fear as Israel retaliates for the actions of the militant terrorist group, with nowhere for them go.

There are no bomb shelters for Palestinians to hide from airstrikes.

An Israeli airstrike hit nearby the Rafah border crossing between Egypt and Gaza on Tuesday for the second time in two days, according to the the interior ministry in Gaza said.

"Gaza is a closed zone. There's nowhere people can evacuate to -- there's no shelters," said Laila El-Haddad, 45, a Palestinian-American living in Maryland whose family is currently in Gaza.

She continued, "The borders are all controlled and shut and the one border bordering Egypt was bombed earlier today. You know, unless they plan to swim out -- but there's a naval blockade -- they really have nowhere to go."

For many, crossing into Israel amid the attacks is not an option.

"Even during normal times, we're not allowed to leave," said Jason Shawa, 55, a Palestinian currently living in Gaza with his wife and two daughters. "Very, very, very few people in Gaza that have permission to leave."

Hundreds of apartments and homes have been destroyed in the Gaza Strip, including refugee camps, leaving more than 123,000 people displaced, according to the United Nations.

More than 73,000 people are sheltering in schools, while hospitals struggle to cope with the numbers of injured.

Shawa lives just miles from the city center where much of the shelling by Israeli forces is occurring. He has taken five other families into his home, which he said is safer than most because his house has a basement to shelter from the airstrikes.

"No one feels safe," said Shawa. "It happens everywhere, anytime. No warnings contrary to what we hear from Israel. My wife and I -- our major concerns are our two daughters ... They're very scared. Very, very scared."

Israel Defense Minister Yoav Gallant said that all food, fuel, electricity, and other necessities will be blocked from entering the Gaza Strip.

"Every single thing we eat, or drink or consume in terms of medicines, food or drink is strictly controlled by the Israeli military," said Shawa. "We have no control over that. So, as a result of their stringent control of Gaza, life has become literally unbearable. In Gaza, conditions are beyond horrible, and we have shortages in everything."

The land, sea and air blockade placed by Israel and Egypt restricts who and what is allowed in and out of the Gaza Strip under Hamas' rule, according to the United Nations.

The longstanding Israeli-Palestinian conflict has been ongoing, spurred by centuries-old disputes over land ownership in the region.

El-Haddad's childhood home in the city-center neighborhood of Remal was leveled Monday by Israeli-force bombings.

Much of her family still lives in Gaza and she was communicating with them to get first-hand accounts of the conflict in Gaza’s densely populated city center.

"Gaza is truly a pressure cooker and people are pushed into a corner," said El-Haddad. "No human being will be able to tolerate such conditions."

She continued, "When you understand the conditions that Palestinians are enduring, one might be left to ask not why this has happened, but why something like this has not happened sooner? And that is not to justify -- the loss of human life in any way, shape, or form is tragic. That is the question people should be asking: How can any human tolerate such conditions?"

#FreePALESTINE #2StateSolution

[demonoflight]

how are you dealing? is your family okay? i hope you're all getting by as well as you can.

I'm... physically okay. My family is okay too. I don't actually know anyone who lived where the incursions happened personally except the family of a friend who thankfully all made it out alive.

Still, it's been. A Time, to say the least? I'm not as used to rocket alerts and sirens as other people on this piece of land (yeah, I know, people being used to it is nuts) so every time one starts up my immediate reaction is to freeze in place and then shrink into a ball uselessly. It's quite possibly the worst reaction considering, you know, rockets. I don't even have a safe room or a bomb shelter here, the building I live in is too old to have either. Nothing landed too close to where I live but you can hear the rocket landing from several miles away. It's loud.

I've been avoiding first hand accounts, videos, photos, the names of the deceased, but every little bit of information that makes it to me is like a shard of glass in my heart. And I'm not the only one struggling, I think the only reason the members of my immediate family haven't broken down completely yet is because we have my baby nephew, who has no idea what's going on because he's just a little guy, and his innocence and sweetness are keeping us sane. The other day he gripped my finger tightly and looked at me intently for five minutes while I told him he's the only reason things don't seem 100% bad right now, because if he's there then the world can't be that bad.

I'm so. Angry, you know? And sad. And frustrated. I was worried our government would lead us to ruin, we've been protesting against it for nearly a year at this point, but I couldn't begin to even imagine it would have this much of a body count. They think it'll reach over a thousand. This is insane. The second this bloody war is over and it's safe to leave the house I'm joining the protests every day until the horrible jackass that put us in this position gets off his goddamn throne. He honestly deserves to rot in jail for the rest of his days for what he's done to all of us, him and the rest of his shit cabinet.

And then I'm finding a way to leave for good. I'm done. The longer I live here, the worse my mental health gets and the closer I am to my physical existence being in question, and I don't need this.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

Published: Nov 28, 2023

Relatives of three Israeli children released from Hamas captivity in the past few days gave the world a glimpse on Tuesday into what they had endured over the previous weeks.

Deborah Cohen, the aunt of 12-year-old former hostage Eitan Yahalomi, told France’s BFM TV that he had experienced horrors. When he and his captors arrived in Gaza, “all the civilians, everybody beat him,” she said. “We’re talking about a 12-year-old child!”

Any child who cried was threatened with a gun to make them quiet, she said. She was stunned to discover that Eitan had been forced to watch videos of atrocities against Israelis committed in Hamas’ October 7 attack. “Yesterday, we were so happy … but now, when I know that, I worry,” she told BFM. “It’s unimaginable. I don’t know who could do things like that.”

Cohen further said, “He’s a calm child, it’s going to take him time to let his emotions out.” She added that she hoped that with "a lot of love,” “a lot of hugs,” “being surrounded by all her family," and psychological help, he would be able to heal.

Esther Yahalomi, Eitan’s grandmother, said that her grandson had been kept alone in a closed room for the first 16 days of his captivity.

"Those were very, very difficult days... just imagine what he went through in there. It's hard for me to talk about it," Esther said.

After about a month, she said, he was moved to be with a group of hostages also from the Kibbutz Nir Oz. "It was much easier for him there, his former preschool teacher was there... he saw a familiar face," Yahalomi said.

Nine-year-old Emily Hand’s father, Thomas, told CNN she had thought she had been held hostage for a year and that he had also been kidnapped by Hamas.

“The most shocking, disturbing part of meeting her was she was just whispering, you couldn’t hear her,” he told CNN. “I had to put my ear on her lips. She’d been conditioned not to make any noise.”

Yair Rotem, the uncle of 13-year-old released hostage Hila Rotem Shoshani, who was held together with Emily, said that they were only allowed to whisper. They weren’t even allowed to whisper at night, he said. He said Hila recounted that there was little food “and not much water, and sometimes they said they were hungry, and they gave them a little more food.”

Seventeen-year-old Noam Or and his sister, 13-year-old Alma, didn’t know their mother had been murdered and their father had been kidnapped during their 50-day captivity, their uncle, Ahal Besorai, told the Guardian and CNN. Besorai said the siblings were separated from their parents at their home in Be’eri and had no idea what had happened to them. “We thought they were together when they were kidnapped, but they were separated from the outset,” he said.

“When they first crossed the border and reunited with their grandmother and older brother, the first news that they had to confront was the fact that their mom is no longer alive. And that was a terribly emotional and traumatic moment for them,” Besorai told CNN. It was a moment with “a lot of tears, a lot of pain,” he told the Guardian.

When Hamas terrorists arrived at the Or family’s home in Be’eri, members of the family were inside their bomb shelter. Yali, Noam and Alma’s 18-year-old brother was saved because he was away on a year of pre-military voluntary service.

“When Hamas terrorists burned their house in order to force them out of the safe room, the kids jumped from the window and tried to hide in a different place, but the terrorists found them and took them to Gaza in a stolen car from the kibbutz,” Besorai told the Guardian. He said Noam had been put in the trunk and Alma in the front along with eight terrorists.

When they arrived in Gaza, Noam and Alma were held in a room in a house along with another Israeli hostage. “It wasn’t easy for them there as well,” Besorai said. “It wasn’t just straightforward, sit in the room and eat. He didn’t expand on what the children had experienced, saying he didn’t want to worry the families of those still in Gaza.

“It wasn’t pleasant, to say the least,” he said. “It was horrible.” The siblings weren’t held in an underground tunnel, he said, but “[t]here were other things that happened that made the experience difficult, very difficult.”

Besorai said Noam, Alma, and the third hostage shared a journal, which they weren’t able to bring with them when they were released. He said his understanding was that the siblings hadn’t known they were about to be released because Hamas wanted to conceal it from the third hostage, who remained in Gaza. The captors covered Alma’s and Noam’s eyes and drove them to a spot where they were handed over to the International Red Cross.

“I asked them how did you manage to survive,” he told the Guardian, “and they said that they supported each other in this triad, if you like. So when someone was down, the other would encourage them and lend moral support.”

Besorai lives in the Philippines and spoke with his niece on a Zoom call. “They are really happy to be back,” he said. “The first image of Alma on the screen was her bright, glittery eyes and big smile. Obviously, she has lost weight and looks much, much slimmer, but her beautiful smile and glittering eyes warms your heart, so I started to cry.”

He said Noam was talkative and wanted to share. “Maybe talking about it for the first time with someone who loves him and cares for him will help him to heal,” he said.

When Noam and Besorai were transferred to Red Cross custody, Besorai said, Noam told Alma he felt pity for civilians in the Gaza Strip. “When they were walking … and they were holding hands, Noam told his sister Alma that he just felt very sorry because they were surrounded by Gazans, civilians. He said, ‘I feel so sorry for them because they are staying here, and we are going home.”

Now that the siblings have been released, Besorai said, the family is focusing on their recovery. He’s concerned about how intense the trauma may be. “What is deep inside them following this horrible ordeal?” he asked CNN. “It is just very difficult for me to assess.”

#hostages #israel #hamas #hamas terrorism #exterminate hamas #religion is a mental illness

[elf-kid2]

There's a story they tell, about nuclear survival-bunkers made in the 1950's.

Cold War. Fear of the Atom Bomb. Tensions rising.

Lessons in school, about how it'll all be okay if you just "duck and cover." School children hiding under their desks as the sirens wail inside their minds, because there is nothing else they can do.

The story you hear is about the 1950's Suburbian Nuclear War Bunker.

A "paranoid" white, upper-middle-class family. A man-- a father, with a grill and a polo shirt, perhaps-- who digs out a shelter in his backyard.

(The story doesn't say if he hires professionals to help him build the shelter. It doesn't mention the machines needed to move the earth and dig so deep; it doesn't speak of the planning needed, to dodge underground pipes and electrical wiring and gas lines, and all the things that are buried in Suburbian ground, as you burrow deep enough to hide from a nuclear blast...)

So.

1950's. Suburbia. White Middle-Class Family. Cold War Paranoia. Nuclear Shelter, buried deep.

(Who built it, and how? The story doesn't say. We are led to assume that the Father did it all himself, through Hard Work and American Independence, somehow.)

The story says that the shelter is stocked with bottled water, canned food, dried food. Enough to last more months, or longer-- if you ration strictly enough

Long enough to wait out the first blast, the killing explosion that turns cities to ash and snuffs out families, generations, neighbors and bloodlines and feuds and communities and values and hopes and dreams, in a single press of the button.

Long enough to wait out some of the radiation that makes you bleed and bleed and bleed. To wait out the burns in the air, the contamination in food and water and air that'll kill you quick with radiation-burns, or kill you slow with cancer, depending on the dose and the distance from Ground Zero.

We tell a story of people confidently building these shelters. Stocking them high with canned food, confidence, and hope.

In the story, we laugh about how the shelters were be er needed. Preparations for an apocalypse that never came.

We laugh.

----

The threat of Nuclear War has never disappeared, of course. The Soviet Union collapsed, but the Atom Bombs remain: there are more now than ever before.

But we don't talk about a drive to build shelters anymore.

We no longer imagine an All-American Family bravely burying themselves in a tomb lined with canned peaches and spam, waiting out the fires and death, and coming out to rebuild a new world, like the old world but better, from the ashes.

Is this bravery, foolishness, or resignation?

Or have we just spent too long asking questions?

(Who built the shelter? Is there enough water to wash and to flush the toilet, as well as drink? Can you stay sane without sunlight? Can you stay healthy, with only canned foods?)

(Is there room for my dearest friend? What I'd EVERYONE in the family wants to bring THEIR dearest friend, and they all want to bring their families as well? How far do the rations go? Who will go hungry, when supplies get low?)

(What happens if someone dies, in a place without fresh food or sunlight, where nobody cares open the door out, lest radiation and firey death be let in? What if someone dies, in the bunker where everyone is so very hungry and so very tired of canned food?)

------

There's a story you hear, about nuclear survival-bunkers, buried in Suburbia in the 1950's.

The threat of nuclear war never really went away. But you don't hear about ordinary-ish people building these bunkers, anymore.

Not any more.

#nuclear war #atom bomb #storytelling #end of the world

[quettasecond]

two articles about gaza that i had in my drafts

War on Gaza: Dozens of Palestinians found dead at elementary school in zip-tied body bags (jan 31 2024)

Hossam Shabana, a photojournalist working in northern Gaza, said that some of the victims included families, such as Abu Srour Abu Salah, 52, and his wife. The remains of an unidentifed child were also discovered at the site. "The bodies were removed from graves created by citizens in the shelter center [school], and they were abused and searched [by Israeli forces]," Shabana said. "These bodies were reported to have been handcuffed and blindfolded. "After the occupation exhumed the graves and subjected the bodies to abuse and searches, the Israeli army proceeded to cover the bodies with nylon [sheets of plastic and the body bags] and discard them into what appeared to be a mass grave. "Following the army's withdrawal from the area, a municipal member used heavy machinery to clear the debris left by Israeli bombings. It was then that the residents noticed the presence of the bodies," Shabana added.

Two brothers shot by Israeli forces in Khan Younis, white flag ignored (jan 29 2024)

On the morning of Wednesday, January 24, the Barbakhs were getting ready to leave al-Amal, west of Khan Younis, and move further south as they had been ordered to do by the leaflets dropping on their neighbourhood since the day before and by announcements by Avichay Adraee, the Arabic-language spokesman for the Israeli army. “We didn’t know what to do,” the boys’ mother Islam told Al Jazeera. “In the beginning, we weren’t even sure about these evacuation orders because we hadn’t seen them ourselves. We were trying to lay low in our house and keep everybody safe. “But finally we realised that we would have to go and started trying to come up with a plan. My husband and sons thought maybe we could break a rear wall and go out that way, because we could hear that there was firing outside.” Eventually, though, the couple decided that the best way would be the most direct: they would walk out of their house with a white flag and make their way to al-Mawasi as directed. “I called Nahedh over,” said Mohamed-Adel, their father. “I gave him a white cloth to wave above his head as a white flag. I thought, there’s no way anybody would want to hurt a child or would be scared of a child.” As the rest of the family was bundling together the last of their belongings that they thought they could take with them, Nahedh took a few cautious steps out of the front door, waving his white flag overhead and walking cautiously out to the corner so he could look at the main road to see which way his family should go. According to what the family told Al Jazeera, as Nahedh took a few steps out of the door, he was shot in the legs and fell to the ground. His father called to him from within the house’s doorway, coaxing his little boy to get up just a little bit and try to get back into the house. When Nahedh got up to try to make it back into the house, he was shot twice more, in the back and in the head.

#decaying #they were together in a post but the post had outdated information about hind (was before she was discovered dead) and i didnt want to risk #people thinking she still needed to be found #so i ultimately deleted it from my drafts and posted these articles in my own post

[nataliesnews]

3rd and 4th day 10.10.2023

I can't believe that Friday night I was having supper with friends at the American colony after a particularly violent demonstration at Sheikh and saying to them I am just exhausted mentally. I want to get out of here for a while. They told  me that they were going to do a trip down the Rhine and even though I swore that I would not go to Germany....I had gone for Ayal and Uta but thought that was that and I found myself sitting there and thinking ....what the hell and thinking what the hell. What are we doing here .....I told them to send me the particulars and even though they said that it was a very expensive trip I thought I have to get out. I have to clear my head. Little did I know.

1973  Six days.   Yom Kippur started terribly but after a few days the

feeling was that things were under control. But this time we thought it would  be over in a day and here we are on the third day and fighting on many fronts. And for the first time I have a very bad feeling. For the first time tonight I will go to bed dressed and I have packed my rucksack with water, a snack and warm clothing. Up to now I have not gone into the small shelter we have or sat in the corridors but I prefer to be prepared. The two sirens today....we heard the rockets landing but the second one was definitely closer though it is really only on the outskirts. I am terrified that Netanyahu, whom I truly believe is not normal and held up by people who are even more so, does not care if Israel is reduced to small areas of opposition. I remembered that years ago I sat with a Moslem friend.....when Hamas was just starting out and the government was supporting them...... and said that I thought that they would be a dangerous enemy and he said that they were only interested in

religion.   I thought often that the villages in the occupied areas

would rise up against us but thought it could not happen. Now too the army has closed up all the exits to the villages. But if they really want to get out and don't care how many get killed? But I never thought it would come from Gaza.

 I am so sick of empty bombastic threats.  It   reminds me of the song

" My Fair lady. Don’t talk of love.  Show me. Now we are told that two areas in the south are still under attack. The spokesman can’t even get his lies straight.  Have I told you that the main door of Nofim is

kept closed and we have been told to lock our doors.   The one sad and

funny story was a rocket near Jerusalem.  The lady was wounded but her

dog was also treated by a veterinarian.   My friend, Sarah Sherman,

asked me to come to her retirement home to speak to two of her people.

I did not feel like going but felt worse to refuse so I spoke to a Palestinian lady of 100 in my broken Arabic and to a Russian lady who was an English teacher.  Now the good news for the families of those kidnapped. The government evidently does not intend to enter into any bargaining. Does this mean that we will eventually return bodies for bodies? I wonder about the pilots who said they would not serve. If

now they are amongst those bombing Gaza.   I don’t envy them the

decision. We are now told on the news to start hoarding enough food and water for a few days.  They should teach their grandmothers to

suck eggs.  I already started doing that yesterday.   I have two

emergency lights. There is already a lack of bottled water in the stores.  In the meantime I have enough beer, vodka and tonic water.  I am sick of hearing that we are at war. What all of a sudden are they telling us to hoard food, etc.  What are they hiding from us?

And now the incredible story of a restaurant which sent 2000 portions of food for soldiers and were not allowed to give it to them because there was no diploma of kashrut.  I hope that in the yeshivot those parasites will enjoy their food. Already people are hysterically going

to the supermarket.   And I added a little bottle of vodka (not too

little) to my escape bag.   A friend phoned when the siren went off

and asked where I was.  I said on the toilet but all  the shit was in the Knesset.  I believe Netanyahu has managed to stop holding the hand of his blond bitch and is going to address us so before I go into ecstasies of admiration I will send this off

Now I sit and try to get my head around this.  Everyone is talking about the brutality of Hamas.  We do not take old people captive. We do not take children. We do not rape.  In so far as that goes we are humane.  But we do bomb Gaza and kill hundreds of people who probably hate us but are not necessarily terrorists.  I will not speak again if the occupied territories and what is happening there.  But the thought is there. But there is no leadership. Netanyahu’s speech was empty of leadership and only full of bluster and threats.  I find myself thinking of the royal family in the second World War. How their daughters served and he is not even ashamed that his sons cower in

foreign countries.  And where is his wife?   Drinking pink champagne?

#3rd and 4th day 10.10.2023