#w4rfared

[ishouldread]

With a heavy heart

Today I'm sharing a very painful story. If you can share it, it might save my brother's life.

@hazemsuhail

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[hvndredbattles]

@w4rfared / cont.

Richie may not like this sort of crowd, but he's the right choice for it. He's carefully toed the line between rich asshole and charming socialite, easing their entrance to an event neither of them should be at. It is, in fact, second nature to crowd into Price's space as soon as their secrecy is threatened, conducting himself like they've been at this a while, one hand around the back of Price's neck, the other all the way down at the back of one of the captain's thigh's like he's trying to coax him up. Nothing to see but a couple of randy queers, and he's hedging on security deciding they're not paid enough to get involved.

It turns out to be a safe bet.

"What, you didn't like it?" Brash and tinged with an open-mouthed smirk of a smile, it takes Richie a moment to back down from the persona he's occupied for the night. Ten or fifteen years ago, he was this, loud and presumptuous, proudly carrying himself with the air of someone born and raised in privilege.

He grimaces mildly and tries to ignore the way it shifts the prosthetic skin someone had decided necessary to hide his facial scaring. (Something about anonymity and unremarkableness, he understands, but he doesn't have to like it, between the unnatural pull of the adhesive and the smooth lack of his usual facial hair.) "I've found the less something's progressed, the more likely someone is to interject if they stumble across some necking."

[leastproblematic]

"you're allowed to lean on me. that's what i'm here for." from doc ( @w4rfared )

it'd been a few weeks since doc put his number in mel's phone and insisted she use it. his contact card makes her smile. first name: marco moretti; last name: call whenever! I mean it! like he expects her to hesitate. like he knows she needs the reminder that she's allowed to ask for help.

he's right, because mel hesitates anyway. it's hard to change old habits, especially those that have become her lifelines. so, she sits in her car for twenty, thirty minutes - dead battery, heat off - and lets the winter chill work its way into her bones. hoping maybe it will kick start her survival instincts. maybe it will help her think of what to do.

mel is tired. it's the end of a long day and becca is waiting for her with increasingly agitated texts and her car is dead and she's stranded in the hospital parking lot after everyone else has already cleared out and its doc's day off and she's so tired. the guilt of disrupting his downtime gnaws at her but she does call, in part because she knows he'd be far more upset if she didn't.

marco picks up faster than she expects. "hi, doc? i'm so sorry to bother you. i know it's your day off, but i- i think i need some help." it's so hard for her to say. but once she does, the rest follows quickly. "my car's battery is dead and becca is waiting for me to pick her up. if you'd be willing to get her, I can meet you at our apartment. there's a bus in the next half hour. i just - i can't leave her waiting that long."

[ishouldread]

Gaza now, may God not forgive whoever ignores this video - YouTube

[ishouldread]

Hello, how are you? I hope I haven't bothered you.

I'm a very worried mother. My child is in critical condition due to malnutrition and urgently needs food and medicine.

Please donate now. I desperately need help to buy medicine, milk, food, and diapers.

@safa-sh

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[hvndredbattles]

@w4rfared / cont.

[ sms - Moretti ] There's generally a line between fucking and staying the night for heat reasons. Thought asking might be crossing it.

[ sms - Moretti ] Bloody brisk, isn't it.

[ sms - Moretti ] ETA 20 min

Normally Richie drives with the confidence of a man rigorously trained in all terain vehicle handling. But he's bloody shaking from the cold, even after sitting in his leased car for twenty minutes in full winter wear with the heat blasting to warm up. God forbid a man try to sleep and trust city infrastructure, apparently. So that twenty minutes is more like thirty to thirty five, on account of an abundance of caution and the realization that some of these people don't know how to bloody drive.

He's mostly sure he's fine by the time he's parking at Moretti's at least. There's a change of clothes and a set of scrubs shoved in the backpack he slings over his shoulder, just in case it takes that long for the situation to resolve.

[ sms - Moretti ] Here.

The text comes before his knock.

[hvndredbattles]

@w4rfared / cont.

She sounds like Richie, even if it's not immediately apparent to the untrained ear. The same rounded vowels and careful consonants, though clearer in her and her youthfulness than they are in Richie, forty-some-odd years old and removed from the upper echelons as he is. She shares a strong resemblance, too, with the same sort of blue eyes, same nose, same twist to the mouth that must be familial.

"I'm Ada." She carries pride in just that much of her name, even if it means nothing to the doctor in front of her. "The woman at the desk did," and she turns to point vaguely behind her in the direction of chairs. "I said Richie's my uncle and I really need to see him. But if he's here I can just look for him myself-"

[hvndredbattles]

@w4rfared / cont.

Richie jerks in surprise at the contact, his head dipping as his gaze flick briefly down to Moretti's arm. It's not a wildly visible thing, the jerk. More like the sort of jolt that might run through someone at an unexpected bit of chill, or kicking the leg of a table unexpectedly. But the muscles in his abdomen tense with it. Touchy. Not something he'd been expecting.

Pack and lighter retrieved, he lets his trousers fall back to the floor. With his free hand, he fetches the ashtray to place on the nightstand. "Want one?" Asked around the butt of his unlit cig. When he returns to Moretti's side, he maintains just enough distance that their shoulders only brush if he properly slouches.