// Tw: Child Death - Tumblr Posts
In the early afternoon of 29 November last year, several Palestinian boys descended on to their street in the occupied West Bank, where they often played together.Minutes later, two of them lay dead from gunshots fired by Israeli soldiers - Basil, 15, and eight-year-old Adam. As part of an investigation into the conduct of Israel's security forces in the West Bank, which has been under military occupation for more than half a century, the BBC has pieced together what happened on the day the two boys were killed. Mobile phone and CCTV footage, information about the movements of Israel's military, witness testimony and detailed investigation of the scene, including taking measurements, combine to reveal evidence suggesting serious human rights violations. The evidence we found has prompted Ben Saul, UN special rapporteur on human rights and counter-terrorism, to say the death of Adam appears to be a "war crime".Another legal expert, Dr Lawrence Hill-Cawthorne, described the use of lethal force as “indiscriminate”. The Israel Defense Forces (IDF) said the circumstances of the deaths were “under review” but said “live fire is used only in order to remove immediate threats or for arrest purposes, following arrest protocols after exhausting other options”.
Video footage from 29 November shows Basil standing next to a hardware store, its shutters firmly locked down. When Israel's military arrives, shops close quickly in Jenin, a city in the West Bank - Palestinian territory which, unlike Gaza, is not run by Hamas. Witnesses said gunfire had been ringing out from a nearby operation by Israel's army in the Jenin refugee camp. Adam, a football fanatic and massive Lionel Messi fan, stood with his older brother Baha, 14. There were about nine boys on the street in total, all captured on CCTV cameras that provided a nearly 360-degree view of what happened next.
A few hundred metres away, a convoy of at least six armoured Israeli military vehicles turned a corner and began heading towards the boys, who clearly became uneasy. Several of the boys started to move away. At this precise moment, mobile phone footage shows the front door of an armoured vehicle opened. The soldier inside had a direct view of the boys. Basil had darted into the middle of the road, while Adam was 12m further from the soldiers, running away. Then at least 11 gunshots rang out.
Medical reports obtained by the BBC show that two shots hit Basil in the chest. Another bullet struck eight-year-old Adam in the back of the head as he ran away; his older brother Baha desperately tried to drag him to cover, leaving a trail of blood as he screamed for an ambulance.
did you imagine your own tragic death a lot as a child or are you normal
Chucky the Terrible and His Child
Recreation of the Infamous Painting below:
I hope you all will be able to appreciate this piece, despite its contents!!
[ART COMMISSIONS ARE OPEN!!!]
Say their name.
Say.
Their.
Name.
Nex Benedict was a indigenous trans nonbinary teenager. They were beaten to death in a bathroom stall. Conservatives say they want to, "protect the children", where was the protection for Nex? That's the thing. There wasn't any. Nex died. And many more trans, queer, and nonbinary minors will if we don't step up and do something. What happened to Nex has and will happen to queer folk around the globe. Say their name.
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I’m afraid I’m gonna die down here I can’t save, I can’t save myself Get me out, get me out of Hell I’m suffocating waiting for you - Out of Hell [Skillet] Summer of Whump 10: Trapped | Fandom: Overwatch (Pre-Fall) | Angela / Gabriel TW: Injury, Child Death
AO3 | FF.net | Works
Angela woke to pain and screaming. Blearily, she tried to figure out what was happening. Something was screaming, a discordant, high pitched noise that made her head pound and stab with pain. Then there was a man yelling, possibly words, but she couldn’t quite focus on the sound to determine what he was saying over the wailing. There was a weight, just shy of painful in places, all over and around her body. Her whole body hurt, and for some reason that struck her as wrong. She shouldn’t hurt. Angela tried to move her arms, to push herself up so she could properly look at the children – why were there children? She didn’t have children – and found she was unable to. Angela was trapped under rubble, braced on arms and knees. She was surrounded, physically incapable of moving. There was pain – why was there pain? And then – why would pain be surprising? While her body was frozen, tightly cocooned by the debris surrounding her, she found her head could move, but only a little. The debris around her made it difficult to do anything, and when she did move her head, it sent spikes of pain and waves of dizziness through her. The feeling was temporary but disconcerting all the same. Steeling herself, Angela shifted her head so she could look around at the claustrophobic space. A faint glow from above her provided enough illumination to see the blood splattered and oozing around her. It made sense that there would be blood, considering how horrible she was feeling. With some straining, she could just peer down at the children that were underneath her. There was a red faced, wailing toddler and a silent baby in a bag. That the baby was silent wasn’t right, but she wasn’t sure why at this moment. Maybe if everything would just be quiet, she could get her thoughts in order. The most pressing of the noise was the child, whose shrieks were only worsening the pain in her head. Angela tried to smile down at the toddler, but her mouth didn’t feel right. She probed at the inside of her mouth and found it swollen; that would make her task all that more difficult. “It – It’s alright.” Angela murmured brokenly down to the girl. She wasn’t sure if it was intelligible through the swelling, but the tone was right at least. “Doc!” The man was back, his voice a shout in her ear. She winced at the sudden noise. “Ya with me, doc?” Angela wasn’t sure how to answer that question, so she settled for an affirmative noise. She smiled down at the child, trying to get her to stop crying - to get the noise to stop. “We’re lookin’ for ya right now, don’t you worry. We’ll have you out fast as lightnin’, you’ll see.” She hoped that meant quickly, because she had a sinking feeling that time was not on her side in this hole. “Wha–” Angela coughed, wincing at the flare of pain the action sent through her. “What happened?” There was a moment of silence on the other side, and Angela wasn’t sure if it was out of surprise or if it was because the man was trying to figure out how to explain her situation. She took that time to coo down at the child, ignoring the rasp of her throat as she tried to soothe the girl. Something must have worked, because the toddlers’ cries slowed before stopping altogether. “You were up in a buildin’, lookin’ for people. It came down, and you were inside o’ it.” Right. Italy. It was coming back, slowly. Leaving Zürich the day before, climbing through buildings, operating through the night. “Must’ve hit your head pretty bad there, doc.” It would explain the headache she was nursing and how off she was feeling. “It’s bad.” Angela agreed. It took her a few tries to get the words out coherently; something must have hit her face when she fell – no, landed. Nothing had hit her when she was falling. She closed her eyes and tried to remember what had happened. The man tried to speak, but she silenced him with a noise; she needed to gather herself before she could give him anything. She just had to think for a minute.
---
Angela blinked. There were people above her. She could hear voices, swearing and yelling at each other in various languages. What– Right. Italy. Collapsed building. They were working on getting her out; if she could just hold on, it would be alright. “Cas – Cassidy?” She coughed out, forgetting that her mouth was swollen and words were hard to form. It didn’t matter if the name was understandable or not, though; her voice had gained her instant attention from the cowboy. “Welcome back, doc.” There was relief in his voice. “Ya with me this time?” What an odd turn of phrase. “Yes?” Angela managed to make the word a question; talking was hard enough as it was. If she could avoid the extra effort of elaborating, she was going to. “Y’been in and out for a while.” That wasn’t a terribly good sign, even if it was an expected one. She had fallen eight stories. Cassidy continued when it was obvious that she wasn’t going to say anything. “Lieutenants’ here, helpin’ us dig. Captain sent us a guy t’fix ya, a Rem-somethin’?” Remington. Good. There was no one else she could think of that had more experience at triage care than he was. If anyone could get her extracted, it would be him. “How’s it lookin’ down there?” Now that he had mentioned it, there was quite a bit of blood shining in the glow of her wings. Angela had noticed it before, but now it had more meaning. Some was dripping from her chin, while more had oozed from the rubble pinning her left arm. Angela craned her neck down, as much as she was able anyway, to see if there was any problems she might be able to spot. She couldn’t see much of her body, but there was blood there, between the children’s feet and where she knew her knees were. The suit was doing an excellent job of keeping her coherent, even if she was still dazed, but it did nothing to help her determine where or to what extent she was hurt. The pain was deep, throbbing and stabbing. It was like – Angela’s eyes widened briefly before she blew out a shuddering breath. It was like Venezuela, right before Gabriel had stripped her suit from her. Not quite the same, but bad enough to terrify her. At least in Venezuela she was easily accessible – once the shooters were down, of course. Here, it could be hours before she was fully freed. “That bad, huh?” It was either the prolonged silence or he had heard her ragged breathing as she tried to keep herself from hyperventilating. Passing out would do her absolutely no good and would not change the situation. “Y – Yes.” Angela tried not to sound panicked, but she was buried in rubble and, quite probably, actively dying. There was nothing any of them could do until they could get her body freed and allow Remington to do what he did best. “It’ll be okay. We can see bits of ya, so it won’ be much longer, alright?” Angela’s lips twitched slightly in humor; how kind of him to try to console her. Then again, he was rather trapped in listening to her – maybe he just didn’t want to listen to her break down. Not that she particularly wanted to break down; there were far too many people above. Even now, with her body shattered and blood splattered, she stubbornly was trying to keep face.
---
Remington hadn’t been able to do much triage on her, trapped as she was, but he had brought a surprise: Ana had told him to locate and bring her healing stream along. Once he was able, he had used the tool on her head. While the tool wouldn’t be helpful for many of her wounds – it wasn’t powerful enough, for one thing – it at least gave her a clear head and made her capable of communicating clearly. They were still excavating her legs under Remington’s watchful eyes. Angela wasn’t sure how long they had been digging, but it felt like an eternity. The toddler below her had fallen asleep at some point, and not even the noise above had woken her. Worried, Angela had reached out to check that she was breathing. As far as she could tell – which wasn’t very – the toddler was fine, just asleep. Now that her head was healed, Angela was deciding whether to call home or not. It felt selfish – was selfish – to pull them away from their considerable duties to be given information they could, mostly, see with their own eyes. But trapped here, watching her blood slowly ooze closer to the child beneath her, she wasn’t certain she would survive. Angela knew that a persons’ will could play a part in their survival, and no one was more stubborn than she was – but no amount of will could counter blood loss. Finally, she allowed herself to fish the communicator out of the pouch – hoping it wasn’t broken. It was selfish, this was selfish, but she settled the communicator on the ground before her anyway. Angela hesitated over Gabriel’s name, but eventually passed him. As much as she wanted, needed, to talk to him, she could not afford it. He could shatter what little control she had left, and right now she could not give in. Instead, she selected Ana’s name. “Captain Amari.” Angela’s lips quirked up briefly with faint humor. One of these days they – to include her if, no when, she got out of this – would check the communicator before answering, instead of just providing their name and rank. “Ana.” Nothing in the world could have kept the exhaustion from her voice; Angela hoped that it masked the undercurrent of fear. Normally, with Jack and Ana, she would try to avoid allowing her emotions to seep into her voice – no need to let them think she was completely unprofessional, considering her relationship with Gabriel. But this time, she would allow it – mostly because she didn’t have a choice. “Angela!” There was a mixture of worry, joy, and relief in the snipers’ voice. Then, a brief commotion in the background – she could hear Jack and Gabriel, though she couldn’t make out what was being said. “How b–” The voices were growing louder, but she still couldn’t determine what was being said. “You may speak with her when I am finished.” Ana’s voice was muffled, as if she had covered the communicator, but nothing could hide the sharpness of her words; the men quieted down as Ana turned her attention back to the doctor. “I’m sorry about that, Angela. How bad is it?” Unsurprising that Ana would skip asking if she had been found; with the number of cameras at her disposal she wouldn’t be surprised if Ana could tell her exactly how much debris had been removed and how much remained. Instead, she had cut to the heart of the matter: survival. “Terrible.” What a small, insignificant word to describe it. “Lost a lot… of blood.” Angela wasn’t sure if it was a significant amount, considering she had no idea if her legs had been damaged, or a whole host of other information. There was a strangled sound from the background – she was pretty sure that was Gabriel. Apparently, Ana had put her on speaker. Angela wasn’t sure how she felt about that, but it was too late now. “It is not – not critical. Yet.” As ever, she was trying to soothe others, even when she could be dying. “It hurts.” She added, almost as an afterthought. “I know, dear.” Ana soothed gently, and Angela realized her voice was much weaker than she had intended it to be. “Do you have your staff?” Angela glanced down to where she had tried to shelter the tool. The parts that she had managed to cover were fine, but she wasn’t sure how bad the damage was. “Yes, but… it is probably broken.” Angela forced down the spike of anxiety. While the loss of the staff was a tragedy, both for herself and any others she could have applied it to, it could be fixed. Ana clicked her tongue sympathetically, and Angela could imagine the sniper shaking her head. “Remington will take good care of you. He has your healing stream, and from what I recall he is one of your favorite medics.” Angela was grateful that she had decided to send one of her most experienced combat medics on this relief. She didn’t know what to say in the silence – she had made her report, which had been the only unselfish task she had been able to think of to justify a call. “You will come home.” Ana ordered firmly into the void, realizing the doctor wasn’t going to speak. Home. If only she hadn’t left, she wouldn’t be in this mess. She should have just gone back to bed and let someone else do the work for once. But the exact reason she had gone was what had made her who she was. It was her duty to care for others, whatever the cost. Staying home when she could make a difference was not who she was – even if the good she had done here could not outweigh the good she had yet to do. It was catch twenty-two between her conscience and what she saw as her duty, in which either choice would cause her to win – and lose. “I – I don’t–” know if I will make it. The words died in her throat, choked by a sob that she had tried to swallow. “I just–” want to go home. Angela drew in a deep, ragged breath – she could not give in to the emotion. It could hover around her, but she could not let it loose. That had to wait until she was safe, until she was home – oh, she wanted to go home. Until then, she had to be Dr. Ziegler – because in her world there was no place for emotions. “Breathe, Angela.” Her eyes darted up towards the communicator, as if she could see him. “You’re gonna be okay. Just breathe for me.” Angela was surprised at how calm he sounded, when she knew he was just as terrified as she was. He had never taken her injuries well, and she had expected this to be no different. Perhaps because he couldn’t actually see her – there was no way the cameras could see her in this hole – made the difference. Angela didn’t know what to say, so she closed her eyes and tried to breathe, to collect herself, like he had asked. She didn’t know if she could say anything, not here and now. Gabriel was the only one she allowed to see her at her worst – and if he was here, now, she might break in front of everyone. He was a huge comfort to her, but he was also a liability to the control she was barely clinging to. “Are you still with me?” He asked, and she had a sudden memory of the two of them on her couch as she relived Venezuela. How appropriate, considering her body felt just as battered as it had back then. It was an image she doubted Gabriel would appreciate, so she’d keep that to herself. “For now.” Angela replied hoarsely, as truthful as she could be in this situation. Who knew how long that would last? Gabriel made a strangled sound before going silent. She could imagine him running his hands over his face, the top of his head, trying to compose himself in the face of her injuries – and him, stuck miles away with no way to help. Maybe he wasn’t holding it together as well as she had thought. She didn’t know how to make this better – couldn’t make this better. She was trapped, miles and miles away from home, and she hurt. Even if she wanted to be some form of comfort, Angela couldn’t find the words. “Gabriel, I – I have to go.” Calling had been a mistake, a selfish action that had resulted in nothing but more pain. She had enough pain for three people – or, rather, she would, if she weren’t wearing the Valkyrie suit. “Angela, don–” He tried to stop her, but her trembling fingers had already made their way to the communicator to end the conversation. Before she could stop herself, to give into temptation, she turned it off. Angela was in no position to be answering questions from anyone and she knew Gabriel would call her back immediately on his own communicator. Then she scrubbed angrily at her face, wiping away the proof of her terror and smudging blood across her cheek and chin.
---
She could have cried with relief when they removed the last bits from her back and head. Considering how much time she had lost, going in and out of consciousness, she had no idea how long it had taken. Her legs, wings, and left arm were still trapped but the pressure had been reduced. She was able to relax her muscles from the position she’d locked herself in – but only a little, considering the children beneath her. Angela realized that, with the release in pressure, she could move her right arm; when she had pulled the toddler closer it had managed to be sheltered by the wings. Unfortunate that her left arm, flung out haphazardly to keep her upright, did not share the same fate. She shifted her weight to the left and onto the wings so that she could lift her right arm. Angela frowned at the blood that began dripping down her arm, but there was nothing she could do about the gash in her bicep or scratches along the arm right now. She wouldn’t have made the effort if it weren’t for the children below her. Angela had noticed something odd when she had first awoken. Dimly, she knew what she had seen – but she had to be certain. Carefully she shifted and gently stroked the infants’ cheek – noting absently that one of her fingers was broken. Though she had known what to expect, it did nothing to change the horror she felt when her fingers met cool flesh. Angela knew the child had been alive on the eighth floor, so it had been under her care that it had died. That it would not have survived the fall without her was of no comfort at all; she should have done better. Angela had landed so hard she would have bruises, at the very least, on her knees and had been thrown forward violently enough to break fingers. The child hanging at her stomach would have hit the ground with considerable force, with nothing but a flimsy bag to protect it – which was no protection at all. “What’s wrong?” Cassidy asked urgently. She must have made some distressed noise without realizing. “I–” What could she say? Words could not convey the despair she felt in this moment – and even if they could, she would not say them here. She had killed an infant. Could it get worse than that? Angela cleared her throat uncomfortably, but it still took two tries before she could say anything. “Nothing.” The word was notably unsteady. “Doc.” It was surprising how much reproach he could stuff into the three letters. Still, Angela was nothing if not stubborn. If she could avoid it, she would hide her despair from everyone. This was a sin blacker – redder – than the ones she had carried previously. This infant would join all the ones she had failed previously. “Don’t.” The word was so soft she wasn’t sure the microphone picked it up. Don’t push. Don’t ask. Don’t try to make her talk about it. Don’t break her more than she already was. She was far too vulnerable to be pressed on such a subject, with her blood spilled across the rocks and her heart slashed to ribbons for the child she had failed. Even now Angela was scrambling to push the ragged pieces of herself down and away to that place she could deal with later. It was hard to keep it locked away – emotions and thoughts that could not be afforded kept slipping out of that deep place in her soul – but it was necessary. “I am fine.” She had to work to enunciate the words clearly enough for him to understand. Although there was nothing reassuring about her tone, he stopped pressing anyway. With one hand – that had a broken middle finger – it was rather difficult, but she managed to fasten the bag around the infant shut – if only so she would stop staring at the poor child. Its eyes had been closed, but she could feel the accusatory glare even through the cloth. The toddler was easier, in that she was still alive, and harder because she was awake and uncooperative with her probing. Angela knew the child would need to be thoroughly examined – the landing had to have damaged her in some way. Aside from a few scratches and some bruising where smaller chunks of debris had slipped past her wings to strike the girl, there was nothing serious that she could see. Children were, usually, resilient and could bounce back from a lot, but she was doubtful the girl would come away completely unscathed. It was a tragedy that the same could not be said for the girls’ sibling.
So this set is literally why it took me so long to get Chapter 17 done; my brain just would not release the idea of “she should fall and get extra hurt”. Unfortunately, her recovery time (for bones and such) just didn’t work well with my plans - and that doesn’t even begin to cover the damage to her hands and how bad that would actually be. Still, I think it’s pretty great so I didn’t want to scrap it - now here we are. Of course, I’m a few days late (story of my life) - but better late than never
Samar Elkhadour has been trying to get her daughter, Jana, out of Gaza, for the past several years. Jana was born with a severe degree of cerebral palsy and was living with Samar’s in-laws in Gaza. Samar was living in Canada and was trying to get her daughter to her as she dealt with Jana’s immigration process. Jana died on Jan. 8 – four days after her 13th birthday – in Gaza due to malnutrition and lack of medicine. 2 weeks later, Samar got the green light from the Canadian government to bring her.
Source: CBC.ca
doesnt every child deserve to live in peace?
Look at what happened an hour ago:
Death, destruction, fear.
We saw it with our own eyes.
Please, help me protect my children and get them out of Gaza before I lose them.
Don’t my children deserve to live in peace?
I beg you, please donate and share my story so we can join hands to protect my children.
SEEING HER FACE FALTER IS LIKE WATCHING HER SIGN HER OWN DEATH SENTENCE. It takes everything in him to keep his own expression composed; verging on kind ( hah ) as he asks questions he’s scared he might already know the answers to. She’s the nest, he’s the exterminator; a boy obeying orders because it’s all he knows, from a man who knows he is all his son has left.
In a way, he supposes, Charlotte Sheppard is the same. She is the only person that those children have left too.
And she wears it openly. Doesn’t shield the contortion of her features, deflects with a smile Michael has been trained to see through. He knows about power, and he knows about fear, and he knows about keeping secrets – and when she heads for further away, his heart sinks lower than he thought possible, because he thinks he might be able to read every damn secret she’s ever tried to keep; especially this one, as it spills out of her, pools on the ground like a lonely saint’s blood. She is the surveyor of his father’s empire, collecting those discarded and deathly, and Michael is going to have to kill her the moment she goes too far.
He’s frightened she may have already passed that point. The threshold of no return. Can anyone who discovers the truth really find peace again ? He wishes there was an easy answer to that. To anything.
From where he stands, his hands curl into helpless fists at his sides.
“ Talk about ominous, ” he bounces off her response as quick - wittedly and as obliviously as possible, crossing the room towards her in three large strides. Boots rub uncomfortably, shirt not quite fitting right. It had belonged to his father when he’d played the night guard, and now that it’s Michael’s turn to take up the mantel, he finds himself wanting, unable to fill the expectations and trying to drag Charlotte out of the crossfire too. “ This place is only spooky at night ‘cause it’s so empty, y’know. You worked day - shift before, right ? ” Really hopes she’d told him that, rather than something he’d picked up from his father. Slip - ups are inevitable, but the haunting flash of distress on her face is a phantom is Michael’s own mind, and he wants to avoid drawing any kind of suspicion to himself while she’s rattled. “ Look, don’t let the ghost stories scare you too much. The most evil thing in here is the pay . . . And the cupcake toy. That thing gives me the creeps. ”
For the first time in a long time, he feels out of place in the pizzeria. It’s become the only place he’d been comfortable, but now, with Charlotte, things are different. Less personal, less familiar. Glancing uncomfortably in the direction her gaze lingers, Michael shivers, a cold breeze whispering down his spine. “ . . . You know that, right ? ” That what you know can’t be real, for your own sake ?
“ are you alright ? you look like you’ve seen a ghost. ”
[ hear me out: i’m throwing my michael @bitterborne at charlotte while he’s helping his dad with remnant collecting & general pizzeria security bc yknow. nothing more fun than trying to play oblivious when charlotte is literally suffocated by the ghosts of his crimes ! !!! ]
halloween-themed starters | always accepting ! | from @bitterborne | “ are you alright ? you look like you’ve seen a ghost. ”
she feels like she's just been electrocuted. there's a buzzing under her skin, like her veins are honeycomb, like she's a nest. carrying around histories not her own, little bodies with tiny hands, memories crawling into all her empty spaces, filling the spaces that she couldn't afford to give. it's not exactly subtle. not a blink-and-you-miss-it sort of moment. not like the shivering silhouette of a small body that was just behind him, that flickered out of existence the moment she focused on it. there, then gone. hearing them is normal, feeling them even, but not SEEING them. doesn't know who it is, what upset them so, why they want to make themselves known in this way in this moment. but she doesn't take it lightly. it all crosses her face. she's never been one to hide things. ( it would've been pretty hard to hide anyways. )
his question is gentle. kind, if anything. she blinks, looks over at him. michael. wears the same costume, daces the same masquerade. the facade of security is well-worn on them both. she doesn't know much about him, doesn't even know if he's illegitimate like she is, but the question almost feels FRIENDLY. he didn't see them, didn't feel them, whatever it was. her answer is immediate. maybe a little too quick. her first instinct is always to deflect, always to hide. if anyone finds out about her, the reason why she's stuck with this godforsaken company for the last five years, it's all over. she sort of side-steps him, fills the moment with movement, a distraction to get him to not look at her face while she clears up the surprise, the fright. " who knows ? maybe i did. " when she smiles, it's a little forced, trying to cover with her signature wry humor. " you know how it goes, with this place. " and that's not quite as amused as the beginning of her sentence, a little dark with her feeling. bitterness. but she's still moving, the confusion, the worry, not quite gone from her demeanor, toward the space where she saw the little one a moment ago. the door on the other end of that space makes a fine excuse for her crossing the threshold.
The fact the church looked at what had been in done in response to their actions, and literally all they did was a goddamn “I’m sowwi” sign says a lot, and just makes me so goddamn relieved I’m out of this religion
so can we start hunting down white liberals now or what
tw: child death
The body of a six-year-old Palestinian girl, missing for 12 days after an Israeli tank targeted their family car in Gaza, has been found along with the bodies of two medics dispatched to look for them.
The Palestine Red Crescent Society (PRCS) and the family of the girl, Hind Rajab, confirmed on Saturday that all seven people inside the car were killed, with the Palestinian relief organisation saying it lost crew members Yusuf Zeino and Ahmed al-Madhoun in the Israeli attack on civilians in Gaza City.
Family members found Hind’s body along with those of her uncle and aunt and their three children near a roundabout in the city’s Tal al-Hawa suburb, the Palestinian news agency Wafa reported.
Another of Hind’s uncles, Sameeh Hamadeh, said the car was peppered with bullet holes.
“The occupation deliberately targeted the ambulance upon its arrival at the scene, where it was found just metres away from the vehicle containing the trapped child Hind,” said the PRCS statement.
“Despite prior coordination to allow the ambulance to reach the location to rescue the child, Hind, the occupation deliberately targeted the Palestine Red Crescent ambulance crew.”
(continue reading)
I never, EVER want to hear excuses of this genocide happening to "get rid of hamas" ever again. HIND WAS A CHILD, A BABY, SHE WAS NOT A HAMAS MEMBER, SHE WAS 6 YEARS OLD AND SPENT DAYS STUCK IN A CAR AMONG THE CORPSES OF HER FAMILY MEMBERS MURDERED BY THE SAME ISRAELI SOLDIERS THAT KILLED HER AND THE TWO PARAMEDICS THAT TRIED TO *HELP HER* .
THIS IS NOT SELF DEFENSE, THIS IS A GENOCIDE.
Hm I have some heavy angsty prompts arcana related but I always just do not want to post them because I feel like no one wants that super sad shit
A post from a Facebook group I'm in.
Please, please, PLEASE pray for this tiny preemie angel.
Absolutely sickening. I expect the red cross to file a lawsuit against Israel as well. The world was hoping for a story of hope, for good news, but instead everyone was faced with the brutality of the occupation.
I know my prayers might be near empty in the face of such real cruelty, but I will pray nonetheless. For her mother, her family, and her little precious soul in heaven.
🙏🕊️💛🤍
The body of six year-old Hind Rajab has been found 12 days after she was last heard from, by her mother and @palestineredcrescent personnel, Palestinian state news agency Wafa reported on Saturday.
She last told her mother that she was in a vehicle with extended family members, and an Israeli tank was firing at them, killing all of them, except the child, who was wounded in her back, leg and arm.
She told her mother, Wissam, that she was also bleeding from her mouth.
Two of the Red Crescent’s paramedics were sent to the scene in Tal Al Hawa, west of Gaza city.
Yousef Zaino and Ahmad Al Madhoon went missing as well. Their bodies were also found on Saturday, and after the ambulance they were traveling in was struck by Israeli forces, the Red Crescent said in a statement.
My pleasure 😊
This fic was both dark and sad ☹️
It also leaves me with so many questions like: how and when did Luke die and become a robot?
Also how did robot Luke remember Hershel and his parents? was it like in The Eternal Diva where they transferred someone’s memories and personality into someone else (well in this case robot?)
Someone tell me please, I NEED TO KNOW!!
Does anyone know where I can find that one Professor Layton fanfiction where Luke dies and Layton builds a robot to replace him but he slowly has to come to terms with the fact that the real Luke is gone and the robot will never be the real Luke so he erases his memories and takes him to St Mystere?
Asking for a friend.