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loveindefinitely · 1 year ago

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༊*·˚ FOREVER WINTER (IF YOU GO) — task force 141 x reader

09 — I'M HIGHER THAN THE HOPES THAT YOU BROUGHT DOWN

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price + (non-endgame phillip graves)

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, enemies to lovers, slow burn, polyamory, ghostsoap, pricegaz, alerudy, heavy angst, requited unrequited love, graphic violence

series masterlist. read on ao3. read on wattpad.

<- previous part | next part ->

When you had taken down the organisation by Shepherd’s side, it was the beginning of everything.

The first time you had drawn someone else’s blood was with a rifle in your hand and a vengeance burning in your veins. A single order from your General – your only support – to kill anyone with the organisation’s uniform. Anyone who raised a scope to you.

It’s difficult, usually, to remember what had happened.

Sometimes, in your deepest of sleeps, the nightmares of your past came to haunt you. Flashes of blood on your skin, corpses underneath your feet, the crackle of a radio sounding in an empty room.

A congratulations from your General.

Congratulations for seeking revenge, and executing it like a soldier well-trained. Another cog in the military’s rusting machine. A weapon for them, more than a human with free will and determination.

You’d thrown up, after it all.

Heaving, sweating, crying, the endless guilt of what you’d just done. Were you no better than them? Sure, they’d killed your mother, but you had just carried out the same in turn. Tenfold. They had families that they’d never report back to. Families that they’d never get to say goodbye to. Dinner left untouched.

Shepherd had pat your back – then, he’d been in service, active duty. You hadn’t known it, but taking down the organisation was his last mission.

You never even learnt the name of the organisation. Shepherd had said that it was better that way, to detach yourself, not get yourself muddled with the logistics of it all. You weren’t meant for that. You were meant for weaponry and death and destruction.

That night, when you laid awake in the small camp set-up just a few klicks out from the organisation's site, you determined that you wouldn’t take another’s life without certainty. Unless it was for defence.

That night, you’d known that you would ask to be trained for field medicine.

Oh, how naive you had been. Young, aching for a chance to get revenge, to get what you felt you deserved.

Ten days later, you met one Phillip Graves.

A day after that, he offered you a place within the beginning of his mercenary company.

Half an hour after you signed the contract, General Shepherd announced that he was no longer suitable for active duty.

How naive indeed.

You think, in the very back of your mind, with the smallest grip you have on thought, that you’ve been carried to safety by men more than you have in your life, these past few days.

In and out, your mind wavers, senses completely gone, consciousness an impossible thing.

Minutes, hours, days. You’re not sure. How does time even work? What is time? Are you alive? Is this death? Another third, universally unknown state, an in between?

These past few days, the utter mess your life has become, has it finally worn you out? Destroyed you from the inside, shrapnel embedded into your flesh? A direct hit, a ticking time bomb gone wrong? A suicide mission with no preparation, no warning, no hope?

If you could, you’d cry.

Let tears fall down your cheeks, crystalline and pure against your dirtied and sinful skin. A mocking of all things good and right and beautiful.

Oh to be beautiful. To be right. To be good.

Heaven would taste like fairy floss melting against your tongue, you think. Sweet and pink and soft. It would furl around your tongue, season your mouth with the feeling of cotton and freedom.

White.

White blinds every inch of your body, the darkness of your eyelids lit with the shade. Chemicals fill the air, a stagnant, all too damning smell. Beeping, too, a constant background noise as you slowly come to.

Hospital – or, at the very least, a Med Bay. It’s something quite familiar, but the feeling of being a patient in one is a very rare instance for you.

That feeling of blood, sticky against your face and arm, has gone. Instead, the itch of fabric and bandage replaces it, an IV drip attached to your inner arm an annoying sting. Your hair feels as if it’s been carefully spread over the pillow underneath your head, a blanket wrapped over your form.

If your spatial awareness is at all correct, you think you can sense a few other people in the room, too. Soft murmuring chimes in over the beeping, now, as you return to full consciousness.

“Can’t believe all three of ‘em are down.”

Gaz – that honey-esque, smooth voice instantly has you recognising the Sergeant. From where his voice is coming from, he seems to be sat beside your bed.

“It’s not your fault, Kyle.”

Price. Captain. He sounds… softer than you’ve ever heard him. Lost, maybe, upset. Disappointed? It’s hard to place, his tone, but it seems almost forlorn.

“Had a whole fuckin’ team of Marines and we couldn’t make it to ‘im in time. If it wasn’t for her–”

“I know, Sergeant,” Price snaps, shutting down the younger man’s nervous, distressed rambling. A scrape of a chair sounds, the sound of pacing footfalls a moment later. “There wasn’t anything we could do – and it’s not like any of ‘em are dying, now are they?”

“Don’t act like this didn’t affect you either, Captain,” Gaz bites back in return, his chair, too, scraping against the linoleum floor. “I heard your yell clear as day.”

“I can and will write you up for insubordination, Garrick,” Price warns, stern and cold.

Gaz’s responding laugh is biting, grating. “No, you won’t, Price. Because if you do that, you’ll have to report the others too. You really wanna risk losing us all?”

“Don’t test me.”

“Thought you liked that about me, Cap.”

“Kyle –”

“Good morning to you, too.”

Both men turn, then, to look at you with wide eyes. With a small groan, you move to sit up, eyes burning with the sudden overhead lights. Your shoulder aches, your cheek, too, but not as badly as they had before.

“Be careful, don’t –” Gaz goes to say, moving towards you, before you show him your palm.

“I’m fine. I know my limits, Gaz,” you say, a small reprimand as you shift into a comfortable position. “I’ll be out of this bed within the hour if I can help it.”

“You dislocated your shoulder,” Price says, insistent, brows furrowed as he looks down at you, arms folded over his chest. “It’s in a wrap. You’re lucky, Colonel, that they could perform the surgery here.”

Your brows raise.

“Surgery? How long was I out?” You frantically ask, sitting up straighter, wincing when you bump your shoulder. Your mind races with theories, fear trickling down your spine like a cold vice. There was so much you had to do – had to investigate, now.

“Only about a day. You were under anaesthesia – and your body near shut down,” Gaz leans forward as he sits, elbows on his knees. “You were awake, under high-intensity stress, for nearly four days.”

Four days? Had it really been that long? What had only felt like a day – it had been four?

You must show your inner panic on your face, because Price takes a step closer, hand moving to rest comfortably on your shoulder. He has a calming, understanding tilt to his lips that you appreciate. His eyes examine your body, before his blue eyes meet yours.

“Graves is already planning his next movement,” he says, gruff and true. His hand squeezes. “We were playing checkers, seems like he wants to play chess.”

The beep of the machines sat beside your bed and the overall feeling of hospital and gauze and injury has you realising something. A flash in the back of your mind, a bell ringing for you like a dog on a leash.

“Where’s Soap and Ghost?”

Price and Gaz share a look, before Gaz flits a nervous grimace to you. “Ghost… refused to be treated unless he was put in the same room as Soap. Soap, is, well…”

“Get yer bloody hands off me, aye am fine, let me see ‘er–”

Soap’s voice carries down the hallway, the standard-issues curtains surrounding your small area doing nothing to block the sound. Your eyebrows shoot to your hairline, Gaz buries his face in his hands, and Price heaves a long-suffering sigh, muttering something under his breath about decorum.

“Sergeant, the doctor’s –”

“Tell Sarah tha’ aye can bloody well handle maself!”

A crashing noise follows the last statement, along with the sound of confused yelling, before the curtain surrounding you gets ripped open by none other than Soap MacTavish.

His grown-out faux-mohawk is messy, obviously having been laid on for a fair bit, his eyes wide and chest pounding in sweeping movements. Fist clenched in the scratchy fabric of the curtain, his frantic eyes focus on Price and Gaz, respectively, before landing on you. His shoulders loosen, and he lets go of the curtain as he trails down your form, analysing for any injuries or a single hair out of place.

“Sweetheart,” he breathes, sounding all too like that single nickname is a lifeline, “Yer alright.”

You softly shake your head, disbelieving and confused and shocked and.

And maybe slightly grateful. Lucky, even, to have someone care for you enough to act like your very presence is their saviour. Like your blood is as worthy as their own, your lungs virtually theirs, too.

“I’m not the one that nearly fell to my death,” you exasperate, voice as soft and vulnerable as you’ve heard it. At the very least, the most open you’ve sounded since your mother was around. “Did you just kill one of the nurses to get here?”

Soap’s creeping smile turns into a full, toothy grin as he shakes his head. “Nah. That’d be Lt.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Price mutters from beside you, along with Gaz’s choked off laugh. You can’t help your own private smirk.

“And here I was, thinking you were the dog, Soap,” you tease, except for the first time, it isn’t with the intention of goading. Of poking the beast. You’re… teasing just for fun. Because it feels natural and right and.

Oh.

Soap scoffs. “Aye, ye did say that, didn’t ya? Ye haven’t seen a guard dog like Mr. Lt, lass,” He taunts, freckles dusting his nose, the hospital lights doing nothing to wash his tan skin out.

He says, as if your world hasn’t been flipped over, shaken about, and sat down on your shoulders like a snowglobe.

He says, as if everything is fine and normal and not cataclysmic.

“The nurse is fine.”

Everyone, including Price, jolts where they are situated, eyes darting to where Ghost leans against the wall opposite your bed, picking at his nails.

He’s.

Unlike the balaclava, of which is all you’ve known of the bulky man, the only thing covering his features is a standard black medical mask, covering his mouth and nose. No ink stains the upper half of his face, either, and for the first time – you see his hair.

Dirty blond.

It oddly suits him, the shortly cut mess, the strands hanging over his forehead and ears. What strikes you is the lack of scars from the skin you can see, the unmarred skin, the softness of it.

He’s pretty, in a rugged, unabashed way, and what a realisation that is.

With just a black compression shirt, sleeves cut to the mid-section of his upper arms, sleeves of talented ink cover his pale skin. A snake, intricately designed, covers his left, curving around the muscle. On his right, what looks to be a Greek god, its depth shadowed with blacks and greys.

“Good to see you in one piece, too, Lieutenant,” you say, and if it was at all possible, you’d swear that sparks shoot up your spine when his deep brown eyes catch onto yours.

He raises an uncovered brow – pale and soft. “I meant what I said,” he threatens, a glint in his eye.

So, you suppose, not all has been forgiven. Your memories are shaky at best, but a few words stand out from your confrontation – kill, belonging, rank. A promise of death, but a vow of protection, too.

“What’re you talking about?” Gaz asks, looking between the two of you with a confused expression.

Neither you, nor Ghost, break eye contact as you simultaneously say; “Nothing, Gaz.”

Both Sergeants share a look, a cheeky one, the type that no one else in the room can decipher. You had seen the way that the two shared comments, winks, hits up the back of their heads. Joking and full of life, but with an unbreakable bond between them.

Yearning was becoming too familiar of a concept for you, you were finding.

“Laswell found a hit on some intel,” Price breaks the tension of the room, hands bracing on his knees as he looks to the four of you. A grim expression settles on his face when he looks to you. “It’s in the home of one of your Lieutenants.”

Your heart stutters in your chest as you swallow around a dry mouth. “What kind of intel?”

Everyone seems to collectively move in closer – Ghost’s hand rests at his belt, Soap’s at his back pocket, Gaz’s on the chain adorning his neck, a guitar pick attached to the gold.

“Intel on an ‘organisation’,” Price says. “A group of people wanting to overtake the military, one with a rising number of members.”

It’s as if you can feel nothing but the beat of your heart, the sensation of your fingers, the pain in your chest. The organisation. They were. You and Shepherd, you hadn’t eradicated them. Maybe stumped their growth, for a while, but you hadn’t.

You hadn’t realised they were still around. Growing, even, thriving.

The urge to just cry, pour out your emotions and weep is the strongest it’s been since your mother’s funeral. To just pull up the covers over your head and let tears fall down your cheeks, mourn in your misery, scream and claw at your skin and feel.

If only you could be that woman. Just for a day.

Instead, you reply.

“When are we going?”

Soap is, both surprisingly and unsurprisingly, the first one to speak up. His hands land on his hips as he studies you with a narrowed gaze. “Ye need to rest, lass. Yer broken.”

You throw your unwrapped hand in the air, waving in their general direction. “Have you guys seen yourselves? How the fuck you’re out of your gowns is almost crazier than you storming into here gunsablazing!”

“We didn’t get a concussion, a wound on our cheek, a dislocated bloody shoulder,” Ghost challenges, and your hackles rise in turn. When he gives, you return. The moon and the sun – the two of you, always taunting the other with a bone just to see if the other will bite.

“I saved your ass,” you seethe back, and with only a small wince, you pull the IV drip from your arm. If Price or Gaz debate that move, you ignore it. “And his. I don’t seem to recall hearing a single thank you, either.” You rise on shaky legs, pushing through the ache, pushing through the thunderstorm in your chest. You turn to Soap, “So don’t tell me what I can and can’t do,” you turn to Ghost, “And you don’t tell me what injuries deem me weaker! I’ve survived this long without the lot of you, and you don’t need to start babying me now.”

The silence in the room should dispel your nerves, but it only serves to increase them tenfold.

“We’ll scope out the area and decide what to do after. Five days ‘til we perform an undercover mission, I suspect.”

With a small tilt of your head, you look to Price, who rubs at his jaw, scratching at the hair lining it. He looks deep in thought – ever the calculating leader.

You sigh, quiet enough to not be heard. “Thank you, Captain.”

The wrapping around your set shoulder seems recently done, and when you move the ligament in small circles, the pain is nothing more than a dull ache. Your cheek, too, has been bandaged, but the sting is nothing if not prevalent.

Someone had spent the time putting socks on your feet, so you’re grateful for the small mercy as you move to the side table and swallow down mouthfuls of water from the plastic bottle placed there.

A thought comes to mind then.

“Where do I sleep? Or should I, um…” You trail off, because the idea of finding a shoddy motel in the middle of nowhere is definitely not a pleasant one.

Silence.

Slowly turning around, bottle in hand, your brows furrow when you see that none of them are meeting your eyes. Even Ghost, which is most definitely a first.

“Are you banishing me? Worried I have cooties?” You tease, bouncing on the soles of your feet. When no one responds again, you truly start to worry. “That was a joke,” you confirm, as if they didn’t know that.

“There’s no spare rooms,” Gaz blurts out, and your eyes go wide.

Of all the things that had briefly crossed your mind, a lack of space was most certainly not one of them. The consequences of that fact is the next thing to be brought to the forefront of your muddled ideas.

“Right,” Soap nods, as if this is a newly found concept. He gestures to Gaz, a smile creeping onto his face. “Thanks for offering to let ‘er crash with ya, lad.”

“I didn’t say that –” Gaz starts, expression slowly creeping into one of exasperation as Price interrupts with a slap to the Sergeant’s shoulder.

“Real generous, Garrick,” Price commends, moving to stand from his chair and leave the room. Ghost follows closely behind him, shooting a look between you and Kyle, simply saying, “Thanks, Sergeant.”

“You’ve got to be joking,” Gaz groans, head falling against the chair backing as he slides down the wood. Soap is quick to bound away from the room, too, with a cheerful, ‘See you tomorrow!’.

Gaz, eyes squeezed shut, seeming to try and melt into the floor, flutters one eye open to look at you where you stand. He grimaces, before slowly getting to his feet, too.

“Sorry for,” you bite at your lip, looking everywhere but at the man who seems to want to die more than host you, “Being a nuisance. Really, I’m fine sleeping at a motel, or whatever. Seriously.”

His hand grasps your chin, moving it so you’re forced to look up at him, his analysing gaze searching your own. The brown of his eyes glisten in the bright light, his features shining with it, and you’re hit with an overwhelming want to be cherished by this man.

How bad had your concussion really been, to be making you think this way? You should really talk to Sarah about it, ask what kind of side effects came with one.

Oddly enough, you don’t think that this realisation is as sudden as you’re forcing yourself to believe.

“I didn’t,” Gaz begins, quickly looking away and setting his jaw before meeting your eyes once more, “I didn’t mean it like that. Just. Embarrassing, y’know?”

“How? Got a secret collection of pornos you don’t want me finding?” You quip back, a soft tilt to your lips.

He chuckles, a soft, girthy thing, shaking his head. “Nah. Nothin’ like that. Just… havin’ a girl in my room on such short notice is a bit scary. Gonna kill them all when I see ‘em tomorrow,” he mutters the last few words under his breath.

“I really am sorry,” you promise, “I didn’t realise that I’d have to impose on you like this.”

“You’re not imposing,” Gaz says, stern, thumb brushing along your jawline. “My bed should be big enough, anyways.”

Your cheeks heat at the implication, mouth opening and closing around nothing. “Your – Your bed? I can just sleep on the floor –”

“No,” he interrupts, shaking your head side to side softly. “If anything, I’ll crash on the floor if you’re uncomfortable. I won’t let you sleep on anything but my bed.”

“Such a gentleman,” you lean in, whispering the words over his lips, a smirk forming on your face as you pull back. Heading for the door, you miss the way his fingers raise to hover over his mouth, gaze flitting to you before he follows behind.

“Do I need to see Sarah? The only reason I was really in there was ‘cause I was passed out, right?” You ask, turning around as Gaz meets you, opening the door for you to walk through. His hand falls to the small of your back as he directs you down the hallways.

He shakes his head. “Nah, Price messaged ‘er. If your pain starts up again, just take some pain meds or see her.”

“I like the way you run things here,” you hum, looking around at the concrete walls and linoleum floors, barren of personality. “No wasting time or resources.”

A draft carries down the hall, and you find yourself rubbing your arm, biting at your lower lip from the cold. Gaz’s hand wraps around your waist, pulling you into his body heat subtly, and you’re silently grateful. “I’ll give you some of my spare clothes to sleep in,” he says, thumb rubbing against where his hand sits in tight circles.

Your stomach growls, then, and you can hardly find the energy to be embarrassed when you haven’t eaten in four days. Yikes.

“Sorry –”

“I made you. Um.” Gaz looks away, bringing up his other hand to rub at the nape of his neck nervously. “I made you some wraps to eat, because the guys love ‘em, and Price kept getting pulled into meetings. So.”

The smile that pulls at your cheeks burns as you softly say, “Thank you.”

His grip around your waist tightens, the smallest amount.

You don’t comment.

“While you change, I’ll go get them from the fridge,” he says, as the two of you pause outside a standard door. The barracks look the same as every other corridor in this base, you’ve found, three other doors sitting close to this one. The 141’s rooms.

Unlocking the door, he switches on the light, and as you step in, you look around at the small room.

A double bed, narrow but long, sits in the corner next to a small window. Next to it, a wooden bedside table, with photos atop it, and a few random medals and gum wrappers. A single poster is stuck to the wall – and as soon as you see it, a laugh bubbles up in your chest.

“What?” Gaz asks, looking through his chest of drawers, looking to you with flushed cheeks. “It isn’t that bad.”

Your laughs continue, racking your body with each inhale as you point to the poster, eyes watery as you look at the man. “Didn’t realise you were into the Spice Girls, Garrick.”

He shoves his clothes into your face, only making you double over with laughter.

“It was from my mum,” he grumbles, and you grab for his cheeks, squeezing them as your eyes near-shut with the manic laughter bubbling from you.

“Mama’s boy,” you tease, pulling at his cheeks until he’s face level. He huffs, pushing you away with a hand to your jaw, making more giggles erupt from your chest. “It’s cute, Gaz, I’m not being mean, pinky promise.”

“I’m getting the wraps, you twat,” he tries to sound accusatory, but his dimples deepen in his cheeks, his mouth pulling into a stubborn smile as he shoves you onto the bed, slamming the door shut behind him as he goes.

The fondness in your chest aches, and as you pull on his clothes, taking off the medical robe, you realise something. A niggling, in the back of your mind, one you can’t seem to shake as you tie off the oversized grey sweatpants around your waist.

A singular realisation, but a damning one, nonetheless.

Your smile doesn’t fade.

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saintsenara · 9 months ago

Note

honestly is there a single competent teacher at Hogwarts? Any teacher I can think of with more than 10 lines of dialogue is a pedagogical disaster. Very shippable disasters though, for which I am grateful because your page has made me giggle all week.

maybe Sprout.

honestly, anon? no.

that school is a basket case and the older i get the more my sympathy for cornelius fudge increases. imagine getting the call where dumbledore says "heyyyyy... so, i hired what i thought was an ex-auror who was retired from the service because of serious ptsd, gave him no teacher training, let him perform illegal curses on children for fun, and then it turns out he was an escaped convict trying to resurrect the dark lord all along. lmao."

i'd have devoted myself to trying to discredit him too.

and so, for fun and profit, i think it's only fair for us to establish an official competency ranking of the teaching staff at hogwarts during the period 1991-1998... points on for having a basic grasp of the material, points off for anyone who nearly dies in your class.

1. wilhelmina grubbly-plank, care of magical creatures

genuinely, professor grubbly-plank is the only person we meet in all seven books who seems to be an uncomplicatedly good teacher. she's got a series of well-defined lesson plans which feature a mixture of guided and independent study and which work in a tangible way towards exams, she has clear authority in the classroom but is never unreasonable or cruel, she's demonstrably able to lead a practical class which involves wild animals which might behave dangerously or unpredictably without there ever being any concerns about student safety, she takes an active pastoral role [such as when she helps heal hedwig's injured wing, reassuring harry enormously], she's collegial [she shares her lessons plans with hagrid in goblet of fire, and she refuses to criticise his teaching to umbridge], and she's admired by all of her pupils except harry [who is nonetheless begrudgingly forced to admit that she's incredibly good at her job].

plus, her aesthetic is iconic.

=2. filius flitwick, charms; pomona sprout, herbology

in joint second place, we have these two.

both sprout and flitwick spend canon seeming to be pretty good at their jobs - they have interesting lesson plans which seem to balance theoretical and practical work well and which prepare their pupils properly for exams, their pupils like them and enjoy their lessons, they're both excellent at the pastoral side of their jobs [sprout's gentle encouragement of neville is really lovely], and they're adored by their colleagues.

they lose marks for lax classroom discipline. harry, ron, and hermione are constantly yapping away in both charms and herbology - with harry and ron frequently failing to understand what they're supposed to be learning because they were too busy have a chat.

=4. remus lupin, defence against the dark arts; septima vector, arithmancy

two teachers here who earn their placement on the list by having one pupil who considers them life-alteringly inspiring.

for lupin, this is dean thomas - whose constant state of readiness to throw hands to defend his honour is one of his greatest character traits. for vector, it's hermione.

obviously, they're both well-qualified, well-prepared, engaging, and [at least in lupin's case, but i can't see why it wouldn't also be the case for vector] well-regarded by their colleagues.

they don't rank higher because lupin loses marks for endangering his students by not disclosing his knowledge that the presumed-to-be-a-death-eater sirius has a means of entering hogwarts without detection [i understand why he does this from a characterisation point of view, but it's inexcusable from a safeguarding one] and because vector teaches an elective subject which is implied to only attract bright, engaged pupils - and therefore has an easier time in the classroom than someone trying to get a student like crabbe through their exams.

5. minerva mcgonagall, transfiguration

in comes minnie mac at number five.

unsurprisingly, her solid curriculum, excellent classroom discipline, high-regard among her colleagues and pupils, support of student extracurricular activities, and investment in helping her pupils pursue the careers they want all give her points.

she loses marks, however, for the fact that she is so casually disdainful of pupils who aren't instinctively good at her subject - which suggests that she doesn't know how to adapt her material so it can be understood by every student she teaches. like dumbledore, she seems to have an identifiable favouritism for brilliant students - who she seems to permit to get away with much more than students she considers average or dull - which probably doesn't endear her to anyone who doesn't get that treatment.

on her pastoral approach, though, i don't think that it matters too much that she's not particularly nurturing - even though she's a head of house. she seems to be good at responding to genuine distress and managing genuine crises with empathy, and the "pull yourself together" vibes she takes in response to more trivial dramas is because she's a presbyterian scotswoman.

6. severus snape, potions & defence against the dark arts

the one on this list that i imagine will be controversial...

because snape is a dick in the classroom - not denying that - but he's also, in terms of his pupils' exam performance, clearly the most successful teacher in the entire school. he can fill his newt-level classes despite only admitting those with outstanding grades, and he expects every pupil he teaches to pass owl-level potions and seems not to be disappointed. hermione reveals that he does teach the theory of potions and the discipline's wider application - harry and ron just don't listen - and that she thinks his lessons are interesting.

snape loses marks - obviously - for his general vibe, although i think he should be allowed some leeway for his dickhead behaviour since potions is clearly a subject in which not paying attention and not being able to follow instructions properly is dangerous [hence why i've been a trevor hater since day one].

i suppose he should also be allowed some leeway because it's a genre requirement for a school story to have a theatrically evil teacher. but he's not getting it - since he clearly enjoys the role so much.

7. horace slughorn, potions

marks on for encouraging independent thinking and for clearly being able to hold a classroom's attention. marks off for not learning the names of pupils he's indifferent to, getting his favourite pupils drunk, and for having no follow-up questions to "hello, sir. i'd like to commit some murders."

8. charity burbage, muggle studies

entirely because i think it's genuinely admirable - and, indeed, far more admirable than the fact that the order of the phoenix all happily keep working for the state following voldemort's takeover - that she publishes an article in the daily prophet, to which her real name is attached, explicitly refuting blood-supremacist rhetoric when she must know that a blood-supremacist government is about to come into power.

marks off because the fact that even wizards who've taken her class appear to know fuck all about muggle society means that she can't be particularly good at her job.

9. firenze, divination

marks on because his pupils love him, marks off because that's a tremendously low bar to clear given... trelawney.

him telling his classes that divination is a bullshit, made-up subject is iconic, though.

10. "alastor moody", defence against the dark arts

i think it's genuinely impressive that he manages to go from being imprisoned under the imperius curse for a decade straight into planning a full year's lesson plans [which his pupils love] and doesn't have a breakdown.

marks off because of literally everything else.

=11. all the miscellaneous teachers: aurora sinistra, astronomy; silvanus kettleburn, care of magical creatures; bathsheba babbling, ancient runes

they seem fine.

14. rolanda hooch, flying

full respect to her for managing to wangle a full-time salary out of an annual workload made up of teaching one lesson [badly] and refereeing six quidditch matches.

15. quirinus quirrell, defence against the dark arts

all the proof those of us who hate professor riddle stories need that voldemort would have been a dogshit teacher, if he can't even get his meat-puppet to inspire a room full of eager eleven-year-olds in a subject which is about the coolest ways possible to kill people.

=16. cuthbert binns, history of magic; sybill trelawney, divination

they're terrible, obviously, but the fact that they remain in their jobs despite being so clearly incompetent is entirely dumbledore's fault. are you not giving the staff performance reviews, albus? come on now.

18. dolores umbridge, defence against the dark arts

umbridge deserves to be in prison, but she did at least bother to plan out a curriculum.

=19. gilderoy lockhart, defence against the dark arts; rubeus hagrid, care of magical creatures

both victims of dumbledore's "lol this will be so funny" era of hiring practices. both deservedly regarded as completely fucking incompetent by all but one defiant brownnoser. both possessing jazzy taste in textbooks.

21. amycus carrow, defence against the dark arts

he beats his sister simply because his pupils do appear to know how to perform the unforgivable curses correctly.

22. alecto carrow, muggle studies

literally nothing positive can be said.

#asks answered #where is ofsted?#albus... get the performance improvement plans out babe...#educational decrees they could never make me hate you #safeguarding tonite? safeguarding tonite queen?

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yourlocaltreesimp · 7 months ago

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Back again with the swooning series! Here’s some Warriors and my first attempt at writing anything resembling happiness. thank you to my lovely wife, @trippygalaxy for proofreading!

Previous parts are not required to understand this one, they are all standalone.

Part 1 Four

Part 2 Wild

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

Between any form of fable, tale or mythos, there is one trope that has embedded itself within the scribes and writers throughout time. That the gods had made everyone inherently flawed. That no matter who you were, what morals you stood for, there would be some fatal flaw to strike you down.

Heroes are not exempt from this.

In fact, Warriors is keenly aware that he is quite deeply flawed. That he as a person and as a weapon was chipped and cracked. He was alive in all its imperfections.

And yet he was not good enough.

Warriors had to grapple with this vagueness. He was only loved or sought after for his skill, or his ability or his potential. Never anymore was he simply just Link. Or, at least, not Link who clung to his mother’s skirt and awed at all the knights. Now, he was one of those knights. There was no room in the eyes of anyone for anything else. He’d never be enough— for even himself.

So, he adapted. He pushed harder and trained longer. He learned and memorised the paths of monsters and how they collaborated and in tandem how to arrange counter attacks and defence with his own arsenal.

His body was broken and remade anew. A was good enough in the eyes of the people.

He was not in his own.

It never caught up to him, though. Not in some karmic matter of being struck down or his body finally giving in to the weight he bears.The war ended, and another began.

He had a new team to memorise and a new opposition to attack. They were the standard to his life, minor adjustments.

The terrain was, too, a challenge. Ever changing and always a mystery, the battlefield was always unfamiliar. The matter of his situation became more pressing, and he rose to meet his requirements.

When you’d fallen upon the crew, unfamiliar to Hyrule as a whole, he was sceptical. It was impossible for him to fully comprehend. You were something other entirely.

You couldn’t be human.

You couldn’t be.

You were far too alluring to simply be ‘standard’ and yet you insisted.

He kept his distance. And don’t be fooled, it’s not due to any standoff. He yearns to be in your company, to share your laughter and bask under the approval of his gaze.

But he fought himself.

He fought the scared within him. That you were, in fact, too good to be true. That in some way you would turn on him and his brethren.

He fought the desire within him. That you’d cause him to stray from what is polite and expected of someone knighted. That his courtship would be declined.

It was such distractions and unbalance in his mind that threw him off track long hours past his hazy dreams. And it showed in his fighting.

The shadow had swamped them with wave and wave of foe. Everyone was battered beyond any use. Potions were passed around to everyone after the fact as they stumbled into the closest Inn they could possibly find. He didn’t care to check who he roomed with, favouring to curl up in bed and rest.

He woke up with blurred vision and a swimming headache. The candlelight was too bright for his aching head as he tried to keep down the pain.

“Woah, alright. You’re alright, lay back down” Gentle hands press him back into divinely warm sheets.

“You’re safe, Link. Your wounds have been taken care of. You just go on and sleep” Immediately he’s tugged back to the edge of sleep. Not focused nor worried about the fingers in his hair or the palm on his cheek. Life is good right here, in this odd moment suspended in time. He’s good here. He’s the most calm and content he’s been in a while. And for once he feels as if he’s loved. Not for any service he’s provided you, as you don’t go searching him out for anything other than company. Not for any gain you could get, you hardly even understand the concept of one of them being a hero (let alone all of them). Not even as some sick joke to play with his feelings.

You make him feel like himself again. After so long of still hiding behind a name or a title, he feels as if once again he’s just Link.

#fir’s library #linked universe #legend of zelda #linkeduniverse #link x reader #linked universe x reader #link x you #x reader #lu warriorsxreader #lu warriors

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manasastuff-blog · 4 months ago

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"World Post Day"#trending#viral

World Post Day Importance is often overlooked, but its impact on global communication is undeniable. In This, we delve into the untold story behind postal services and how they have shaped the modern world. From connecting communities to facilitating global trade, postal services play a critical role. We'll explore the history, relevance, and future of postal services in an increasingly digital world. Whether you're interested in communication, and logistics, or just curious about the significance of World Post Day, this will give you insights you won’t find elsewhere. Stay tuned to learn how postal services continue to influence everyday life, even in a tech-driven era.

Call:7799799221

Website:www.manasadefenceacademy.com

#WorldPostDay#PostalServices#GlobalCommunication#ImportanceOfPost#PostalHistory#PostalSystem#CommunicationRevolution#TechAndPost#WorldPostDay2024#ManasaDefenceAcademy#trending#viral

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whathorselegs · 4 months ago

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Idk if this was obvious and it just didn't click for me, but I'm gonna talk about it anyways.

When I watched the anime, I never understood why the GSS aligned with The Sheep. Yes, they were both technically gangs, but one of them is a highly trained private security service gone rogue and the other is a group of scared kids with guns. It's not an alliance that makes much sense to me passed "The enemy of my enemy is my friend", meaning the Port Mafia. Which doesn't hold much strength to me, as they really don't seem any better equipped to take on the mafia after joining forces.

The Sheep were gaining a new source of protection. But the question I always had was what was the GSS gaining from The Sheep?

And I think after reading fifteen, I finally see what it is. It also makes the way The Sheep betrayed Chuuya make even more sense to me.

Because that's what the GSS supposedly gained, Chuuya's death.

Now this is just my interpretation of events, so bear with me. The obvious reason for The Sheep wanting Chuuya dead was because they thought he was joining the Port Mafia and thus betraying them. They knew they had no defence against Chuuya and you don't let a weapon like that fall into enemy hands, so you destroy it. There's also the personal grudge of having been- in their eyes- betrayed.

But now, I also think the GSS demanded Chuuya's death as part of their joining forces. After all, Chuuya had literally killed an entire squad and captain of their forces not long ago. That's an action that needs answering. Plus, the GSS need the security of knowing that The Sheep wouldn't just turn to Chuuya should he promise them shelter. They needed to secure The Sheep's loyalty.

So they demand Chuuya's death, they demand The Sheep are the one to do it. They get their revenge at no cost to themselves and ensure The Sheep's ties to their old leader are completely severed. They won't have to worry about descent in their ranks.

When Shirase says Chuuya can serve The Sheep one last time by dying, I think that's what he means. It also makes me wonder if that's why Shirase is specifically the one holding the knife, because he was the one closest to Chuuya.

He invited Chuuya into The Sheep, he was the one that fought for Chuuya's place there. In the arcade scene he says he's the one that's been pushing back against the rumours that Chuuya was a traitor. Shirase truly was Chuuya's first and last friend in The Sheep. Of course, he had to be his Judas too.

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd chuuya #bsd shirase #bsd fifteen #rambling #bsd headcanons #I expected to be angrier at Shirase when I read fifteen #but really I just felt sorry for him #maybe it's because I read Storm Bringer first??#Idk somehow I'm on the Shirase defence squad again asdfghjk #He's still a little shit #Not absolving him from that

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kravmagasystems7 · 7 months ago

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Empower your child with essential safety skills through Kids Self Defence Classes at Krav Maga Systems.Learn more at https://kravmagasystems.com.au/.

#Self Defence School in Australia #Kids Krav Maga Training Classes #Kids Self Defence Class Services #Kids Self Defence Classes #Adults Self Defence Classes in Australia

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international-writing · 2 years ago

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Intelligence agencies 101: MI6

Dashing spies and deadly agents, from James Bond to Alex Rider and George Smiley. We have all heard of British Intelligence, but just how much do you know about MI6?

1.- It is the oldest secret service in the world.

If we want to get technical, spies have been working for the British crown since 1569, thanks to Queen Elizabeth I and her Secretary of State, Sir Francis Walsingham. But for now, we'll focus on the contemporary Secret Service.

Hear me out, back in 1909 in the midst of what we call the "armed peace", things were getting anything but peaceful. Countries developed and accumulated weapons like it was a sport, and most of them were unsatisfied with the territories they owned. Germany was going all Queen and screaming "I Want It All", which made the rest of the European countries slightly concerned by its imperialistic ambitions.

Britain was the first to grow paranoid and so Prime Minister Asquith decided to have the Committee of Imperial Defence, create a Secret Service Bureau.

However, it is worth mentioning that the existence of the agency wasn't formally acknowledged until 1994, under the Intelligence Services Act, and even though everyone had known about it for ages.

2.- They have very... diverse tasks

Officially, MI6 is tasked with the collection, analysis, and adequate distribution of foreign intelligence (it is a common misconception that MI6 also handles national affairs, that's what its counterpart MI5 is for).

Now, note that I said "officially", and that is because unofficially (it is kind of very illegal), MI6 has been known to carry out espionage activity overseas. But you already knew that, didn't you? Otherwise, why would you be here?

3.- Roles

As described by the SIS itself, there are several roles within the organisation:

Intelligence officers: Must be UK nationals of at least 18, with no drug use and pass a very intrusive security clearance. The jobs are divided into the following subcategories:

Operational Managers: planning and managing intelligence collection operations.

Targeters: turning information (data) into human intelligence operations.

Officers: link to Whitehall (government) as well as validating and testing intelligence.

Case Officers: managing and building relationships with agents.

Operational Data Analysts: Must be UK nationals of at least 18, with no drug use and pass a very intrusive security clearance. Tech abilities are a must. Training course lasts 2 years.

Tech Network Area: Must be UK nationals of at least 18, with no drug use and pass a very intrusive security clearance. Skills in: GoLang, gRPC, Protobuf, Kubernetes & Docker Python, Java, C#, C, C++, and React (+Redux).

Language Specialists: Must be UK nationals of at least 18, with no drug use and pass a very intrusive security clearance. Russian, Arabic and Mandarin linguists are the most solicited, followed by translators.

4.- Their alphabet is a bit jumbled up

Anyone that has ever seen or read any 007 material knows that M is the head of MI6, whether that be Judy Dench, Bernard Lee or Ralph Fiennes.

But what if I told you that the head of MI6 is actually a certain C?

Back when the Secret Service Bureau was created, a 50-year-old Royal Navy officer called Mansfield Cumming (and dubbed "C") was chosen to head the Foreign Section.

5.- MI6 or SIS?

Officially, the agency's current name (adopted in 1920) is Secret Intelligence Service, hence the acronym SIS, but it wasn't always that. We've established that it started its days as the Secret Service Bureau, and during WWI, the agency joined forces with Military Intelligence, even going as far as to adopt the cover name "MI1(c)".

The agency continued to acquire several names throughout the years, such as "Foreign Intelligence Service", "Secret Service", "Special Intelligence Service" and even "C's organisation". It wasn't until WWII started, that the name MI6 was adopted, in reference to the agency being "section six" of Military Intelligence.

And I truly do hate to be the bearer of bad news but... the name MI6, as cool as it sounds, is no longer in use. Writers and journalists still use that name, but those within the organisation just call it SIS nowadays.

6.- They are fond of their traditions

Remember our dear Commander Mansfield? Well, turns out he started a thing. The man used to sign his letters in green ink and always with the letter "C" a tradition that proved to be sticky enough to be passed down to every single Chief afterwards. Another tradition worth mentioning, is that of calling intelligence reports "CX reports", which... you guessed it, is still done to this day.

7.- Special friends

On 1949, the SIS began a formal collaboration with the CIA, even though the agency had already helped to train their predecessor's personnel, the U.S. Office of Strategic Services.

Even the CIA has admitted that the MI6 has provided them with some of the most valuable information of all time, including information that helped during the Cuban Missile Crisis and key elements to the capture of Osama Bin Laden.

I hope this will be of some use to your future writings and do feel free to submit an ask if you happen to have a specific question regarding British intelligence, or any other International Relations subject!

Yours truly,

–The Internationalist

#writing advice #writing help #writing community #writing tips #writing resources #creative writing #james bond #george smiley #alex rider #mi6 #spies

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usafphantom2 · 2 months ago

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U.S. Approves Foreign Military Sale for South Korean F-15K Upgrade

The State Department has approved the possible sale of components that will allow South Korea to upgrade its F-15K Slam Eagle fleet to a configuration similar to the F-15EX Eagle II.

Stefano D'Urso

F-15K upgrade

The U.S. State Department has approved on Nov.19, 2024, a possible Foreign Military Sale (FMS) to the Republic of Korea of components that will allow the upgrade of the country’s F-15K Slam Eagle fleet. The package, which has an estimated cost of $6.2 billion, follows the decision in 2022 to launch an upgrade program for the aircraft.

The State Department has approved the possible sale of components that will allow South Korea to upgrade its F-15K Slam Eagle fleet to a configuration similar to the F-15EX Eagle II.The F-15KThe new capabilities

The Slam Eagles are the mainstay of the Republic of Korea Air Force’s (ROKAF) multirole missions, with a particular ‘heavy hitting’ long-range strike role. According to the available data, the country operates 59 F-15Ks out of 61 which were initially fielded in 2005. In 2022, the Defense Acquisition Program Administration (DAPA) approved the launch of an upgrade program planned to run from 2024 to 2034.

In particular, the Defense Security Cooperation Agency’s (DSCA) FMS notice says a number of components were requested for the upgrade, including 96 Advanced Display Core Processor II (ADCP II) mission system computers, 70 AN/APG-82(v)1 Active Electronically Scanned Arrays (AESA) radars, seventy 70 AN/ALQ-250 Eagle Passive Active Warning Survivability System (EPAWSS) electronic warfare (EW) suites and 70 AN/AAR-57 Common Missile Warning Systems (CMWS).

In addition to these, South Korea will also get modifications and maintenance support, aircraft components and spares, consumables, training aids and the entire support package commonly associated with FMS. It is interesting to note that the notice also includes aerial refueling support and aircraft ferry support, so it is possible that at least the initial aircraft will be ferried to the United States for the modifications before the rest are modified in country.

A ROKAF F-15K Slam Eagle drops two GBU-31 JDAM bombs with BLU-109 warhead. (Image credit: ROKAF)

The components included in the possible sale will allow the ROKAF to upgrade its entire fleet of F-15Ks to a configuration similar to the new F-15EX Eagle II currently being delivered to the U.S. Air Force. Interestingly, the Korean configuration will also include the CMWS, currently not installed on the EX, so the F-15K will also require some structural modifications to add the blisters on each side of the canopy rail where the sensors are installed.

“This proposed sale will improve the Republic of Korea’s capability to meet current and future threats by increasing its critical air defence capability to deter aggression in the region and to ensure interoperability with US forces,” says the DSCA in the official notice.

The upgrade of the F-15K is part of a broader modernization of the ROKAF’s fighter fleet. In fact, the service is also upgrading its KF-16s Block 52 to the V configuration, integrating a new AESA radar, mission computer, self-protection suite, with works expected to be completed by 2025. These programs complement the acquisition of the F-35 Lightning II and the KF-21 Boramae.

Ulchi Freedom Shield 24

A ROKAF F-15K Slam Eagle, assigned to the 11th Fighter Wing at Daegu Air Base, takes off for a mission on Aug. 20, 2024. (Image credit: ROKAF)

The F-15K

The F-15K is a variant of the F-15E Strike Eagle built for the Republic of Korea Air Force’s (ROKAF) with almost half of the components manufactured locally. The aircraft emerged as the winner of the F-X fighter program against the Rafale, Typhoon and Su-35 in 2002, resulting in an order for 40 F-15s equipped with General Electric F110-129 engines. In 2005, a second order for 21 aircraft equipped with Pratt & Whitney F100-PW-229 engines was signed.

The Slam Eagle name is derived from the F-15K’s capability to employ the AGM-84H SLAM-ER standoff cruise missiles, with the Taurus KEPD 350K being another weapon exclusive to the ROKAF jet. The F-15K is employed as a fully multi-role aircraft and is considered ad one of the key assets of the Korean armed forces.

With the aircraft averaging an age of 16 years and expected to be in service until 2060, the Defense Acquisition Program Administration (DAPA) launched in 2022 an upgrade program for the F-15Ks. The upgrade, expected to run from 2024 to 2034, is committed to strengthening the mission capabilities and survivability of the jet.

The F-15K currently equips three squadrons at Daegu Air Base, in the southeast of the country. Although based far from the demilitarized zone (DMZ), the F-15K with its SLAM-ER and KEPD 350 missiles can still hit strategic targets deep behind North Korean borders.

An F-15K releases a Taurus KEPD 350K cruise missile. (Image credit: ROKAF)

The new capabilities

It is not yet clear if the F-15K will receive a new cockpit, since its configuration will be similar to the Eagle II. In fact, the F-15EX has a full glass cockpit equipped with a 10×19-inch touch-screen multifunction color display and JHMCS II both in the front and rear cockpit, Low Profile HUD in the front, stand-by display and dedicated engine, fuel and hydraulics display, in addition to the standard caution/warning lights, switches and Hands On Throttle-And-Stick (HOTAS) control.

Either way, the systems will be powered by the Advanced Display Core Processor II, reportedly the fastest mission computer ever installed on a fighter jet, and the Operational Flight Program Suite 9.1X, a customized variant of the Suite 9 used on the F-15C and F-15E, designed to ensure full interoperability of the new aircraft with the “legacy Eagles”.

The F-15K will be equipped with the new AN/APG-82(V)1 Active Electronically Scanned Array (AESA) radar. The radar, which has been developed from the APG-63(V)3 AESA radar of the F-15C and the APG-79 AESA radar of the F/A-18E/F, allows to simultaneously detect, identify and track multiple air and surface targets at longer ranges compared to mechanical radars, facilitating persistent target observation and information sharing for a better decision-making process.

F-15K upgrade

A ROKAF F-15K Slam Eagle takes off for a night mission during the Pitch Black 2024 exercise. (Image credit: Australian Defense Force)

The AN/ALQ-250 EPAWSS will provide full-spectrum EW capabilities, including radar warning, geolocation, situational awareness, and self-protection to the F-15. Chaff and flares capacity will be increased by 50%, with four more dispensers added in the EPAWSS fairings behind the tail fins (two for each fairing), for a total of 12 dispenser housing 360 cartridges.

EPAWSS is fully integrated with radar warning, geo-location and increased chaff and flare capability to detect and defeat surface and airborne threats in signal-dense and highly contested environments. Because of this, the system enables freedom of maneuver and deeper penetration into battlespaces protected by modern integrated air defense systems.

The AN/AAR-57 CMWS is an ultra-violet based missile warning system, part of an integrated IR countermeasures suite utilizing five sensors to display accurate threat location and dispense decoys/countermeasures. Although CMWS was initially fielded in 2005, BAE Systems continuously customized the algorithms to adapt to new threats and CMWS has now reached Generation 3.

@TheAviationist.com

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matan4il · 1 year ago

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Daily update post:

Yesterday, there was an independent terrorist attack carried out, where the terrorist stabbed two people. The terrorist was a 23 year old Israeli Arab from East Jerusalem. He was neutralized. His victims are a young man and woman, 20 and 25 years old. Today, there was another independent terrorist attack, this time the terrorist ran over with his vehicle no less than 4 people, and one of them, a 25 years old man, is in a condition defined as "between moderate to serious." All four of the wounded are in their 20's. The attacker was neutralized. He was 16 years old, from Hebron.

It is now confirmed that in addition to Hamas and the PIJ (Palestinian Islamic Jihad), another Palestinian terrorist organization that participated in the Oct 7 massacre was the DFLP (the Democratic Front for the Liberation of Palestine, another Palestinian terrorist organization). The terrorist attack for which they're most known in Israel is the 1974 invasion of an Israeli school, holding a group of 100 school girls and their teachers hostage, and then massacring them as Israeli soldiers broke into the school, trying to save the hostages. This terror attack happened before I was born, but I think like many other Israelis, this image of it is forever etched into my brain, Israeli soldiers carrying away bleeding, but saved students:

Along with the drone attack on Israel's north yesterday, there were also rockets that hit Kiryat Shmona, which is in the same area.

In Turkey, 32 ISIS terrorists were arrested for planning to attack local synagogues and churches.

There's been a lot of speculation regarding who knew about the planned Oct 7 invasion and massacre, since clearly a lot of the funding, training and planning was done by Iran. Yesterday, a Hamas senior in Lebanon said that Hezbollah, another Iranian proxy) was only alerted to the plan about to be implemented half an hour before it started. Currently, according to Israel's Minister of Defence, Israel is being attacked on 7 physical fronts (Gaza, Lebanon, Syria, Iraq, Iran, Yemen and independent terrorist attacks) and one front online (cyber attacks), BUT it's only fighting a full fledged war with Hamas in Gaza. Had Hezbollah been alerted earlier, would it have joined Gaza's terrorists? Would Israel currently been in a full out war on two fronts? Due to not knowing enough time in advance, Hezbollah lost the element of surprise, and ended up joining in attacks that are far from a full scale war.

I was made aware that antisemites are posting about the existence of Israeli military censorship as some sort of "proof" that Israel is not a free, democratic society (as if other democracies don't apply similar censorship to intelligence and operational details, when they believe publishing the info might endanger lives). So I just wanna point out that there is a LOT of info that isn't being censored, stuff that isn't comfortable for Israel to be published (like the story of the hostages being accidentally shot by IDF soldiers. No one else was there, it could have been so easy to bury that story, but Israel published it. Not any external journalistic source. That's who we are, as a society), and explain how some of the info that IS censored is specifically what can be demonstrated to endanger people's lives. For example, journalists can write about the hostages, but not about certain details regarding their professions or military service, present or past. We KNOW Palestinian terrorists follow the news, and if they find out they hold someone they can try and extract info from, they WILL torture that person. If journalists discuss everyone BUT a specific hostage in terms of this aspect, that's also telling the terrorists who to look at. So that's why they're just censoring all of it in regards to this specific aspect. Or another example, when it comes to rocket attacks, some of the details will be censored, because past experience has shown that the terrorists listen to reports on where their rockets hit, and they use that intel to finetune their aiming at Israeli targets.

Here is a NYT piece on the sexual violence of Hamas during the massacre, and in case this is behind a paywall, here is a report on that piece, which details some of what was published. At what point will the people who screamed for evidence of rape, actually come forward and apologized for the way they victimized those sexually brutalized by Hamas, a second time?

This is a CNN host choking up as he reads the letter of Liora Argamani, as she writes to the US president, begging to see and hug her daughter one last time, before she died of brain cancer:

youtube

These are Liora Argamani, and her daughter, Noa:

And these are Gadi Chagai and his wife, Judy weinstein:

I've shared their picture once before, when it was discovered that Gadi was actually murdered on Oct 7, and his body was kidnapped to Gaza. At that point, his wife 70 years old Judy was known to have been wounded on that day, but she was still believed to be alive, and the oldest woman in captivity in Gaza (the oldest man is 86 years old Shlomo Mansour). Yesterday, we got confirmation that Judy wasn't just wounded, she was killed on Oct 7, and her body was also taken hostage. May their memories be a blessing.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

#israel #antisemitism #israeli #israel news #israel under attack #israel under fire #israelunderattack #terrorism #anti terrorism #hamas #antisemitic #antisemites #jews #jew #judaism #jumblr #frumblr #jewish

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