spitballing pining amangela + disaster amanda thoughts for my own perusal later:
When it comes to pining amangela unfortunately my brain is so enamoured with the concept of the rpf au Amanda who is SO down bad and is Not Making Good Decisions About It. I think the more composed/well adjusted/well reasoned Amanda is about things normally/is about other things happening the better it is for her to be a goddamn wreck about this. Like she can be deeply, wildly, hilariously in denial for a while, realize, and then handle the realization terribly. And it can be a trainwreck the whole time!
She can be HORRIFICALLY undercommunicating! She can be straight up lying! She can be lying poorly! Avoiding Angela! Avoiding people who would ask her about it! Fumbling other shit because she's trying to regain equilibrium. Doubling down in the worst ways possible: going on bad dates, avoiding conversations more after being called out, lying and then double lying, etc.
(I'm just a sucker for the trope of "character who normally has their shit together becomes a complete and total disaster about their feelings regarding a specific person".)
And like disaster Angela is fun- DUAL disaster Amangela is fun- but for me there's an extra layer of satisfaction of an Angela who also has a Lot of feelings about Amanda but is actually more at peace with/better at handling her emotions about it in comparison. Love a development to a relationship that unveils/highlights extra depths to both individuals, and I think the sort of fandom assigned roles of "responsible one/chaos gremlin" are VERY fun to flip in this scenario.
Like specifically the dynamic being "Amanda, normally competent and put together, absolutely putting her foot in her mouth during a regular convo with Angela/avoiding Angela blatantly and badly bc she JUST realized her feelings and is Not Fine About It, vs Angela who spilled her coffee in her car on the way over and is late for work, but has generally accepted she loves Amanda being very ????? about whatever weird gymnastics Amanda is doing."
(This also opens up for either angst OR comedy). (Or both!! ideally both. if i write it, it will probably be both, because i wont be able to resist.)
(Or, if the feelings are unrequited... even more opportunities open up.. ALL angst for sure, then. But more opps.....)
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After the hospital bombing, I finally heard back from my grandmother and confirmed that several of my relatives were murdered by Israeli bombing. Seven of them, to be precise. Three are still going, including her. We've been talking constantly ever since.
Asked if it was possible to head south, and was told they did but were also bombed there. So they decided to go back home, in Zeitoun. Their home was bombed and they were pulled out of the rumble, then driven by ambulances to the al-Ahli Arab Hospital. There were people in every corner. Gazans sheltering, sleeping on the floor. Gazans dying on the floor, waiting for beds.
Four were declared dead on arrival, three were in need of surgery and other three were just bandaged. Then, a bomb was dropped in the parking lot that made parts of the ceiling collapse, like Dr. Ghassan Abu Sittah reported in that horrific conference/interview. Those in need of surgery died.
By the way, just in case you didn't know: the Church of Saint Porphyrius, the third oldest in history, bombed by Israel a few days back, was located near the hospital.
When looking for new shelter, they saw schools with signs hanging outside, "We can't take any more families." They met families, sympathetic but already sheltering too many people. They're now staying in an apartment building they found empty. Sleeping in the corner of the living room. If the family comes back, they'll apologize and leave.
Told me she was saving her phone battery for when the bombing stopped, and she had to ask for help to rebuilt the neighborhood. But she doesn't think it's gonna stop anymore. The ones still with her are mute most of the time, like they're saving energy, but she feels lonely and wanted to talk. There's no internet and to connect to WhatsApp, people are buying "a card from the supermarket, there's a password and username." Not sure what she meant. Still, the internet is inconsistent and won't load neither videos or images nor pages, so she doesn't know what's happening on the outside world.
Told her there were a lot of people protesting to stop the genocide, she replied, "The bombings are getting worse by the day." The bombing yesterday was the worst she ever witnessed. The entire neighborhood is infested with the smell of death, of decomposing bodies. Bodies are piling up in the streets and she's not sure if it's because they ran out of places to store them, but most of them are in bags. The smoke of the bombings hide the blue sky—she hasn't seen the clouds for a while.
Asked if I could share their pictures, names and dreams with people and was told, of which I partly agree, "they're not entertainment." If anyone genuinely cared, they would be alive—I'd argue there are people who do care, but I'm not gonna lecture her pain. And they don't deserve to be used to fulfill someone's sick fantasy. Told me to remember what some Israelis do with pictures of dead Palestinians. And I do.
For those of you who are not familiar, many times before settlers got together to celebrate the murder of Palestinians. For one, in 2015, Israeli settlers set a house in Duma, West Bank on fire. An 18-month old baby, Ali Dawbsheh, was burnt alive. Both parents later died of wounds and only a 5-year-old, Ahmad, survived, although severely injured.
Two celebrations of their murder are widely known, one at a wedding and others outside the court in which two were indicted for the terrorist attack. In the wedding, guests stabbed a photo of the toddler, Ali, while others waved guns, knives and Molotov cocktails. Israel's Minister of National Security, Itamar Ben-Gvir, was present.
That's what happens in an apartheid. Palestinians are so abused by authorities that their "innocent civilians" come to accept the brutality as necessary or are desensitized by our suffering. After all, it's been 75 years—get used to it!
So I won't risk the image of my loved ones, in fear they are used in these kinds of depravity. I will say, though, the world lost a young footballer. Lost a female writer and an aspiring ballerina. Lost a kind father, who was also a great cook, and a loving mother that enjoyed sewing and other types of handicraft art. Lost a math teacher and a child that wanted to become one.
People think Israel is testing new weapons on them. There's civilians arriving at the hospital with severe burns, which they thought was from white phosphorus, but apparently the pattern is different from the one caused by white phosphorus. It's widely believed Israel tests weapons in Palestinians.
Jeff Halper, author of War Against the People, a book on Israel's arms and surveillance technology industries, said: "Israel has kept the occupation because it's a laboratory for weapons."
They've ran out of drinkable water and the "aid" Biden sent was only for the South of Gaza and no fuel, for hospitals, was allowed in. Many shelves in the supermarket are empty. She said many are convinced that if they don't die from the bombing, they'll die from starvation or dehydration, or whatever disease will develop from the dirty water they're drinking.
Told me all people do now is pray, cry and die. Told me she hopes West Bank is spared. Told her Israel bombed a mosque in West Bank and dozens of Palestinians in West Bank are being murdered by settlers, so she bided me goodbye.
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