#Iraq Tender

[agronayurveda01]

Successful Meeting with Iraq Delegates

Approaching Towards Southwestern Asia ( Iraq )

Agron Remedies Pvt. Ltd.

(WHO-GMP, ISO 9001-2015 Certified Plant)

A Pharmaceutical Manufacturer, Marketer & Supplier

#PCDPharmaFranchise #ThirdPartyManufacturing #tender #export

100M+ Visitors

20M+ Orders Delivered

36+ Years of Exp.

765+ Districts Covered

[sayruq]

unicef estimates that a thousand children in Gaza have become amputees since the conflict began in October. “This is the biggest cohort of pediatric amputees in history,” Ghassan Abu-Sittah, a London-based plastic-and-reconstructive surgeon who specializes in pediatric trauma, told me recently. I met him in the waiting room of his plastic-surgery clinic on London’s Harley Street, and we walked to a nearby pub for a glass of water. Abu-Sittah, a fifty-four-year-old British Palestinian with an angular face and tender, deep-set eyes, has treated child survivors of war for the past thirty years in Iraq, Yemen, Syria, and elsewhere. Abu-Sittah is the author of “The War Injured Child,” the first medical textbook on the subject, which was published last May. In October and November, he spent forty-three days in Gaza, conducting emergency surgeries with Doctors Without Borders. He shuttled between two hospitals: Al-Shifa and Al-Ahli, which is also known as the Baptist hospital. The casualty rate was so high that, during some intense periods, he didn’t leave the operating room for three days. “It felt like a scene from an American Civil War movie,” he said. In Gaza, Abu-Sittah was performing as many as six amputations a day. “Sometimes you have no other medical option,” he explained. “The Israelis had surrounded the blood bank, so we couldn’t do transfusions. If a limb was bleeding profusely, we had to amputate.” The dearth of basic medical supplies, owing to blockades, also contributed to the number of amputations. Without the ability to irrigate a wound immediately in an operating room, infection and gangrene often set in. “Every war wound is considered dirty,” Karin Huster, a nurse who leads medical teams in Gaza for Doctors Without Borders, told me. “It means that many get a ticket to the operating room.” To mark the gravity of these procedures, and to mourn, Abu-Sittah and other medical staff placed the severed limbs of children in small cardboard boxes. They labelled the boxes with masking tape, on which they wrote a name and body part, and buried them. At the pub, he showed me a photograph he’d taken of one such box, which read, “Salahadin, Foot.” Some wounded children were too young to know their own names, he added, telling the story of an amputee who’d been pulled from rubble as the sole survivor of an attack.

[30somethingautisticteacher]

Homecoming

A little one shot that refused to leave my head until I had written it!

****

Buck and Tommy were both on their 48 hours off. It always felt kind of magical when their schedules lined up perfectly. They were sitting on Tommy's couch, Buck's head in Tommy's lap as he slowly ran his fingers through Buck's curls. At some point, the conversation turned to their favorite calls they'd ever been on.

"Tommy, it was so sweet and beautiful," Buck began, his eyes lighting up with the memory. "This guy, he did everything he could to make it home to his family in time for his daughter's Christmas concert. He'd been deployed for months, and it was going to be a surprise."

Buck's voice grew more animated as he continued, "We managed to get him there just in time. The look on his daughter's face when she saw him in the audience... God, Tommy, it was incredible. They had missed him so much."

Buck began to choke up, overwhelmed by the emotion of the memory.

Tommy nodded with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Sounds great, sweetheart," he said in a low, rough voice. "Really... really special."

Buck, caught up in his recollection, didn't notice the slight strain in Tommy's voice or the way his smile seemed forced. Tommy continued to stroke Buck's hair, but his mind seemed elsewhere.

"What about you?" Buck asked, turning his head to look up at Tommy. "What's your most memorable call?"

Tommy hesitated, his hand stilling in Buck's hair. There was a flicker of something – pain, perhaps – in his eyes before he masked it. "I... I'm not sure," he said finally, his voice distant. "There have been so many."

Buck frowned slightly, sensing something off in Tommy's demeanor. "Hey," he said softly, reaching up to touch Tommy's cheek. "You okay?"

Tommy took a deep breath, his eyes growing distant. "I just... those soldier homecoming things are hard for me," he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. "Soldiers coming home to their loved ones. Everyone so excited to see them. Telling them how much they missed them. I just... that wasn't my experience when I came home from Iraq."

Buck sat up, turning to face Tommy, his expression filled with concern and understanding. He took Tommy's hand in his own, encouraging him to continue.

Tommy's voice was barely above a whisper as he shared his memory. "I came home on a plane full of soldiers. When we arrived and exited the plane, there were signs and people hugging and crying. And I just stupidly stood there with no one waiting for me."

Buck's heart clenched at the pain in Tommy's voice. He squeezed Tommy's hand, his own eyes filling with tears. "Oh, Tommy," he said softly. "I'm so sorry. I can't imagine how lonely that must have felt."

Tommy nodded, swallowing hard. "It was... it was tough. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy for those who have people waiting for them. But sometimes, hearing those stories, it just brings back that moment of feeling so alone."

Buck pulled Tommy into a tight embrace. "You're not alone anymore," he murmured into Tommy's ear. "I'm here. And I promise you, I'll always be here.

As they held each other, Buck realized how much there was still to learn about the man he loved.

"Thank you for sharing that with me," Buck said softly as they pulled apart. "I love you, Tommy. All of you, including the parts that hurt."

Buck's eyes were filled with tenderness and determination as he continued, his voice low and sincere. "If you let me and trust me, I will do everything I can to bandage the broken parts of your heart."

Tommy's breath caught at the depth of emotion in Buck's words. He cupped Buck's face gently, his thumb tracing Buck's cheekbone. "Evan," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "You already do. Every day, just by being you, you heal parts of me I didn't even know were broken."

Buck leaned into Tommy's touch, his eyes brimming with tears. "I want to be there for you, always. To create new memories that overshadow the painful ones. To be the one waiting for you, no matter what."

Tommy pulled Buck close, burying his face in the crook of Buck's neck. "You are," he murmured. "You're my home now, Evan. The best home I've ever had."

And they settled back into each other's arms, there was a new depth to their connection, born from both vulnerability and understanding.

In that moment, Tommy felt lighter than he had in a long time. He smiled at his boyfriend, a newfound warmth in his eyes. "So, my favorite call," he began, his voice soft but content, "it all started with an old friend reaching out to me about a missing cruise ship..."

Buck's eyes widened in recognition, a slow smile spreading across his face. He playfully punched Tommy's shoulder, his heart swelling with love and appreciation for the man beside him.

And as Tommy began to recount the story – their story – Buck snuggled closer, hanging on every word.

Also available on Ao3

[bullet-prooflove]

Bad Timing: Tim Gutterson x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989

It’s always a case of bad timing between you and Tim, it’s been that way since Afghanistan. A couple of stolen nights here and there before one of you departs for greener pastures. For him it was Iraq, for you it was an honourable discharge before you took up a position in the FBI.

When he becomes a US Marshal he figures the two of you will find your way back to each other again at some point, he just doesn’t expect it to be in some backwater shithole near Harlan in the midst of a raid. He doesn’t expect it to come with a punch in the face as you escape through an open window. He chases you for almost two miles before he catches up and that’s only because you let him.

Distance running has always been your thing, just like intelligence work.

“Fuck Lucky.” He mutters, trying to catch his breath as you slow to a halt outside the abandoned Anderson house. “Did you really need to run me out this far?”

The reason they call you Lucky is because back in Afghanistan no matter what fucked up shit you  were caught up in you always made it out. It didn’t matter what the odds were, the one thing he could always bet on was on you.

It had started because of those five days you spent hiding out in the hills, evading the Taliban with nothing but your wits and a combat knife.

Lucky is what they called you when you came stumbling through those gates looking like you’d been dragged through hell.

Fierce and smart as fuck is what he thought when they’d headed back to the caves and found the mess you’d left there, along with the intelligence cache you’d secreted away. He’d fallen a little bit in love with you right there and then.

“You looked like you could use the exercise.” You say, putting your hands on your hips with that devil may care smile on your lips.

Christ you look beautiful, even in the light from the shitty streetlamp overhead. He remembers the last time he’d had his hands on you. It was during that law enforcement conference up in Louisiana a couple of months ago. You’ve always been a little wild, a little crazy and that translates into the bedroom. He’s asked you to come stay with him in Lexington, give this thing between the two of you a real shot.

“After this assignment.” You had promised him as you straddled his hips. “Let me get these next couple of months over and done with and then we can talk about playing house together.”

You’d meant it, he could tell from the look in your eyes before you rode him into oblivion.

“That eye is gonna turn a pretty colour in the morning.” You say interrupting his thoughts as you reach out to touch the place where you socked him. There’s a tenderness in your touch, one that he spends his nights craving. This is the other side to you, the part he misses more than anything. The part that loves him, the one that will always love him.

“I’d take any hit you can give me as long as it means you’re safe.” He murmurs, his lips brushing over the tattoo on your wrist, the one of a four leaf clover. “When are you gonna be done with this undercover bullshit and come home to me?”

“When redneck militias stop buying up rocket launchers to blow up churches.” You tell him and he sighs because he knows what that means.

It’s not easy dismantling an arms ring, especially one with ties to the military. There jurisdictional issues in play, different agencies get involved which means more risk on your part. It also means a bigger investigation because operations like this filter into different states depending on what the hook up is. Guns from Texas, grenades from Florida, body armour from Kansas, the list goes on.

The two of you are looking at a year maybe, instead of the months you’d both thought.

“I guess we still have a case of really bad timing don’t we darlin?” He says, his heart aching at the prospect of spending another year without you.

“Yea Tim.” You say softly. “We sure do.”

Love Tim? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[kteezy997]

bitch please I need part 2 of Timmy character cuddle now please

Theodore "Laurie" Laurence

he's madly in love with you, and totally obsessed, so he's always down for cuddling, or any type of hug to just hold you in his arms.

he always makes sure that you are physically and mentally comfortable in all situations, and cuddle time is no different. He asks things like, "Is it alright if I put my arm here?" "Is this comfortable for you?" "You can go to sleep like this, right?"

loves it when he feels all manly holding you against him as his little spoon.

oftentimes likes to read to you as you rest your head on his chest and caresses your hair.

King Henry V "Hal"

not into it.

he wasn't raised to show soft emotions like love or show any type of affection or intimacy.

but he will cuddle with you for a while, only if he knows it will lead to sex, which is one of the few ways he knows how to show his love for you.

"As my Queen," he says, "You are the only person in the world with my permission to hug me, or even touch me."

he will kiss your cheek or the top of your head.

he will let you lay on his chest at night while you sleep.

Kyle Scheible

he is like King Hal in the way that he isn't a super emotional guy.

will cuddle as long as sex follows.

will probably try to talk you out of cuddling so he can talk about something more important, like the number of civilians killed in Iraq or the government putting tracking devices on us.

shares a hand-rolled cigarette with you as you cuddle. it's his way of being close, but still casual and carefree.

gives you surprisingly sweet, tender kisses in odd places, like your elbow.

Elio Perlman

he might initiate cuddles by grabbing your waist playfully, and steal some kisses on your neck, maybe some silly little love bites too.

sometimes he wants to cuddle with the promise of love making, but other times, he just wants to feel pampered by you. He likes for you to play with his hair, and to idly run your fingertips over his face as you watch tv together. but if it's quiet and he's totally relaxed and laying across your lap, he might softly hum the tune he's currently learning to play on piano.

he might bring a peach to bed so you can share a bite. He loves looking at you, loves watching you take a bite of the juicy fruit, and maybe you lick the juices off his fingers before he kisses you, to taste the peach on your lips.

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @bitchyunknownuser @lixzey @kpopgirlbtssvt @ducktapebar

[euph0riacc]

I must know, why are we smacking Curt on da mouth? Why is the little yapper smacked?

+ @swifty-fox

CURT GETS SMACKED:

IRAQ AU

So this is the one shot that is going to come before part 2 of my Iraq war au of MOTA. (1.5 if you will).

Essentially it follows the scene in canon where John asks Curt to hit him. Only in THIS au, John is still coming off of a nasty concussion and even though didn’t punch him hard enough to make him anymore brain dead (lol) than he already is- Gale has some feeling about it. (Because Gale Cleven is a feral motherfucker and I stand by this)

Although in Gale’s defence; he wouldn’t have hit him if Curt wasn’t so damn MOUTHY, and we love him for it.

Excerpt:

Curt takes a long drag before he speaks, blows smoke into his face until he coughs. “It’s not my fault you can’t keep your boy grounded and I have to do your job for you.”

“He’s not my boy.”

“Yeah, and that’s the fucking problem isn’t it?” He steps forward until they’re toe to toe. Gale has a few inches on the new-yorker, but it doesn’t feel like it, not when Curt is using his words like knives and going for Gale’s soft and tender underbelly, hitting him where they both know he hurts the most– Bucky.

“You won’t bend him over like you both want so he has to come to me to make him feel something.”

[just-your-average-tangerine]

I had typed up a whole post about someone fitting the average tumblr demographic (american, gen z) has likely only been exposed to country music in the form of 'bro country", the "i love my guns/ beer/ truck/ pretty-girl-in-cutoff shorts" type of country music. So its not that strange that those people would dislike country music. But that form of country music was an intentional campaign post 9/11 to erase the roots of country and turn it into the violently nationalistic, misogynistic, racist crap that has plagued country charts for the past 20+ years.

but tumblr deleted that post and i don't feel like retyping it so here's a selection of my favorite country music that doesn't fall in to that category.

side note: this is a mix of older and newer country so not all of it is pre 9/11 and some of it has been on country top 40 charts since then, but its still not bro country

side note 2: these are recommendations for individual songs, not necessarily artists, some artists here do have 'bro country' songs just not these ones

I am a chicks fan from birth so I will not apologize for the number of their songs I'm including

the ultimate example of country music written by angry women. Who doesn't love two best friends getting together to murder ones abusive husband then live the rest of their lives as lesbian famers?

a haunting reflection on trauma and abuse, especially being abused by someone who's well loved by others.

a mothers words to her son following a divorce and subsequent abandonment by his father

following 9/11 the chicks were outspoken against Bush and the invasion/ war in Iraq and Afghanistan, due to the changing politics of country music this got them death threats and got them blacklisted from country radio. this song is about that.

-this list would not be complete without some Johnny Cash

a perfect example of the more progressive politics in country music. How can we as a country claim to be a pillar of progress just because we have nice things while were spending millions of dollars to send young men to die in Vietnam but cant afford to feed the hungry at home?

-cant mention Johnny Cash without including his cover of Hurt

for all your gay and tender needs

I was pretty neutral on this song until I saw Darius Rucker perform it at the Grand Ol Opry and it just makes me happy now

for all your gay and sad needs

[fortheloveofwonderland]

War of the Heart - Chapter Eight (Final) | Luke Alvez x Fem! Reader

Previous Chapter

Chapter Summary - Spencer is finally released from prison and the two you have a long overdue talk. Will he convince you that you’re making a mistake with Luke before it’s too late?

A/N - and we reach the end! Also I am aware Luke was also given time off after the Scratch debacle but let’s just roll with it.

Category - heavy angst | smut | eventual happy ending.

Content Warnings - a brief summary of the prison arc including mentions of Lindsey and Cat and mentions of Scratch kidnapping Emily and his and Walker’s death, swearing, and finally(!) a happy ending!

WC - 3.4k

Chapter Eight

2010 - Diyala, Northeast Baghdad 

“So,” he spoke, stepping inside your unit for what would be the final time. “I guess this is the end of the road.” 

“I guess so.” You shrugged, placing a handful of toiletry items in the open box. “I’m being picked up to go to the airport in a half hour.” 

Now normally Luke would take any opportunity to get you into bed, even if you’d only had ten minutes he would have made it work. So when he sidled over to you and simply wrapped you in his arms, you knew this must be breaking his heart. 

“You’re really leaving?” He held you close, resting his chin on your head while you snuggled against his chest. 

“I don’t really have a choice.” It wasn’t strictly untrue. You didn’t have a choice, not if you wanted to maintain your sanity anyway.

Luke wanted to say something, tell you that he knew you’d requested the transfer and ask you why, but honestly, he wasn’t sure he could handle the answer. So instead he just held you tighter. 

“I really am going to miss you.” He whispered. 

“You going soft on me, Sarg?” You pulled back a little so you could look up at him. “We’ll still talk, that’s what phones are for. And the timezones in Iraq and Afghanistan are only a few hours different so we can talk whenever we like.” 

“I know.” He nodded. “But why does this feel so definite? Why does it feel like I’m never going to see you again?” 

You smiled a little wistfully at him and got on your tiptoes so you could place a tender kiss to his lips. 

“Sarg, if it was meant to be, it will find a way.” 

“Now who’s going soft?” He laughed but it was filled with sadness. 

The two of you stood there for several more minutes, wrapped in each other's embrace. A part of you suddenly didn’t want to go. Sure things with Luke were intense but was that such a bad thing? He loved you with every fibre of his being and you loved him back with the same fire. Why were you running from the only thing that had ever made you happy? 

There was a knock on the side of the container and the two of you sprung apart rapidly. Seconds later a head poked it way inside. 

“Time to go, private.” The man nodded for you to follow him. 

You exhaled heavily through your nose, straightening your back and raising your hand to your forehead in salute.

“It’s been an honour to serve for you, Sergeant Alvez.” 

Luke mirrored your stance, saluting you back even though his heart was shattering in his chest. 

“The honour was all mine, Private Y/L/N.” 

You collected your things and headed to the door, allowing yourself one last glance back at Luke. You caught him wiping his eye but when he saw you looking he forced a smile and mouthed four simple words. 

“Goodbye and good luck.” 

***

Present - Washington, DC

Everything after your night with Luke seemed to happen at lightning speed, thankfully keeping your mind busy, away from thoughts of him. The following day you’d received a call from Emily to tell you that during his cognitive, Spencer placed a woman in the motel room, not Scratch. And days after that his moms new nurse brought her to visit him and it all spiralled from there. 

Not being a part of the team anymore you had to sit on the sidelines while they tracked down Lindsey Vaughn and proved Spencer’s innocence. You heard second hand of how Spencer had to face off with his arch nemesis Cat Adams in order to save his mom. And just when it all finally seemed to be over, Scratch did rear his ugly head, killing Walker and kidnapping Emily. 

You wanted to help, you wanted to help so badly but you knew you’d be more of hindrance and that you couldn’t see Luke again for your own good. Garcia kept you apprised of everything, while you literally sat on the edge of your seat feeling utterly useless. 

But of course, the team was great at what they did and they found Emily in time. Scratch was dead and according to Garcia there was speculation that Luke may well have pushed him off that ledge despite his protests otherwise.

Honestly, you wouldn’t have even blamed him, you might have even done the same. 

Then everything got quiet. Most of the team was all given time off while Luke and IRT’s Matt Simmons held down the fort. And it was only then that the weight of everything came crashing down on you. 

You’d quit your job. You’d pushed Luke away for the final time. You were alone and you had nothing left to occupy your mind. The spiral was inevitable and you knew it. 

When Spencer called you, asking to see you, you were surprised to say the least. You weren’t sure entirely what he wanted as he was particularly vague on the phone but it was the bare minimum you could do to hear him out. So you invited him over. 

The last time you’d seen him was at the BAU after bringing him home from Mexico and it honestly felt like a different life time ago. The air was awkward and slightly tense between you as you let him inside your apartment. He tentatively stepped inside and you motioned him over to the couch where you both sat down. 

“I just want to say, I’m sorry I never visited while you were at Milburn.” You blurted out, toying with your hands in your lap.

“It’s ok.” He shrugged, a hint of a smile on his lips. “I didn’t put you on my visitation list anyway.” 

“Well now I’m glad I didn’t make a drive up there.” You laughed a little. “I guess we have a lot to talk about.” 

“Yeah.” He nodded a little sadly. “You left the BAU.” 

“I did.” 

“There’s a lot of rumours flying around as to why.” His eyes sparkled slightly. 

“I can only imagine.” 

“And I can only assume the only truthful rumour is that you left because of Alvez.” 

“You don’t need to be a genius to figure that out.” You smirked. 

“I need to know everything, Y/N. No more lies.” 

“Ok.” You agreed, because after everything it was the least you owed him. 

He frowned in confusion when you got up from the couch and watched you walk over to your desk and retrieve something from the top drawer. When you returned, you opened your palm, a small silver ring nestled in your hand. 

Spencer looked between your eyes and the ring, the cogs not taking long to slot into place. 

“You were engaged?” He croaked, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth. 

“Not entirely.” You sighed. “It was a promise ring. He was promising that one day he would ask me to marry him and I was promising that when that day came, I’d say yes.” 

“So what happened?” He scrutinised you as you closed your fingers around the ring. 

“Loving Luke is…stressful isn’t the right word. Draining? Exhausting? I loved him with such intensity that everything else in my life fell by the wayside. He was literally the only thing I could think of. I was losing focus in my work, putting my career second to my feelings for him. I think I loved him too much.” You exhaled, clasping your hand tightly and feeling the ring digging into your palm.

“Wow,” Spencer chuckled softly, making you frown. “With all due respect, that’s got to be the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“There’s no such thing as loving someone too much.”

“That’s what Luke said.” 

“And he’s right.” Spencer continued to laugh. “Love is supposed to be intense and consuming. If it isn’t, it isn’t love.” 

“This was…this was different.” You shook your head. “We had a volatile relationship that seemed to stick to the same destructive cycle. We’d get into a fight, we’d try to make up by having sex and then we’d just fight again.” 

“So break the cycle.” He said it like it was the easiest thing in the world. “Love isn’t rocket science Y/N. If something doesn’t work you fix it, you don’t run off just because you get scared.”

“Who said anything about being scared?” You scoffed, putting the ring down on the coffee table before you crushed it into dust. 

“It’s very clear you push Luke away because the idea that someone could love you so much scares the crap out of you. And that’s understandable, love is scary. But it’s also the most amazing thing in the whole world.” He smiled a little wistfully.

“Are you really sitting here trying to convince me to be with Luke when he’s the reason we broke up?”

“I understand the irony.” He nodded. “But I do want you to be happy. I had a lot of time to think while I was in prison and I realised that you were never really happy with me, not the way you should be. You never looked at me like you look at him.” 

“Spence, I’m so sorry.” You pulled a face.

“No, no I didn’t mean that in the pathetic way it sounded. I’m just saying, don’t settle for mediocre when it comes to love. Trust me when I say, you want that intense, all consuming love. That’s when you know you’re doing it right.” He offered you another smile, pushing himself up from the couch. “But hey, what do I know? I’m only a genius.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh as you got up as well, the two of you heading towards the door. 

“Do you have any plans? You know like, life after the BAU?” 

“Right now I’m just enjoying having a little time to myself. My old unit chief at the DC Field Office obviously heard about my resignation and she reached out, said I’d always have a place on the team.” You opened the door for him. 

“Well, maybe we’ll run into each other from time then.” He stepped out into the corridor. 

“Or you know, we could hang out sometime, on purpose not just for work.” 

“I’d like that.” He nodded. “And remember, Y/N, never let fear decide your fate.” 

“I forgot how wise you are, Doc.” You smirked, leaning against the door jamb. 

“No you didn’t.” He smiled back at you briefly before turning away and heading for the stairs. 

You watched him go, mulling over his words and knowing if anyone was right about the situation, it was Doctor Spencer Reid. 

You turned back into the apartment, rushing through to your room to change and quickly grabbing up the ring along with your keys and phone and hurrying out again before you talked yourself out of it. 

***

To say Luke Alvez was exhausted would be the understatement of the century. The past few months had seemed to go on for years, the day he joined the BAU felt like a complete lifetime ago. Between Spencer’s incarceration, capturing Mr Scratch and keeping the department afloat with Simmons while the rest of the BAU took time off, he felt as though it had been months since he’d gotten a decent night's sleep. 

But work kept his brain active, it kept him too busy to spend time dwelling on you and the pain caused by the way you’d finally ended things. One day he was going to have to deal with it, let himself feel every shatter of his heart. But today wasn’t that day. 

It was really late by the time he got home, he supposed it was more early than late as it was ebbing into the early hours of the morning. Roxy was with his neighbour, he’d get her in the morning before his run. 

He stifled a yawn as he unlocked his apartment door, ready to crash and burn as soon as his ass hit the bed. He got inside and shucked off his jacket but before he could get out of his shoes, something caught his eye.

His dog was curled up on the couch, asleep, her head buried under the arm of the human who slept at her side. You were dressed in full fatigues, boots on the floor next to the couch and your feet tucked up beneath you. The sight made his heart melt, something he’d imagined so many times before but never expected to be a reality. 

But why were you here? Why were you asleep on his couch with his dog in your army uniform? 

He shuffled closer to the couch and you stirred a little, you always had been a light sleeper. You rubbed your eyes with one hand, the other lost somewhere in Roxy’s thick fur. You blinked a couple of times before your eyes landed on Luke. 

“Oh shit, did I fall asleep?” You jumped to your feet, startling Roxy a little but she quickly settled back down. 

“Yeah and in case you hadn’t noticed, not in your own apartment.” Luke frowned at you. “How did you get in here?” 

“Well you see, I came over and I knocked but obviously you weren’t home so I just kinda sat outside for a while. And then your neighbour, Mrs Perez, she found me and told me she had your spare key and did I want it and also did I want to take your dog back. I didn’t know you had a dog.” You rambled. 

“Uh yeah…that’s Roxy.” He scratched the back of his neck. 

“Oh it’s a she. I’ve been calling her Rambo.” You shrugged. “I guess me and Ram…Roxy fell asleep waiting for you.” 

“And why are you waiting for me? In your fatigues?” His frown was so deep he worried he might cause permanent lines in his forehead but he was so confused. 

“Because I can admit when I’m wrong.” 

“Can you? Because I didn’t know that about you.” 

“I didn’t say it came easily to me.” You rolled your eyes. “I was scared, Luke, petrified really. I was scared because the way I feel about you is like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. I thought that a love so intense was a bad thing but I think I might have been wrong. 

I think I thought I could either have love or a career, that my brain wasn’t equipped to handle both of those things. My mom was a doctor, I’ve never told you that before, but she was. Was. Until she met my dad and I guess he wanted her to be this homemaker or whatever so she quit. Just like that. She gave up everything for him and I promised myself I’d never be like her. Yet in trying not to become her, I inadvertently did. I left Iraq of my own accord, I quit the BAU, just so I didn’t have to see you everyday. I guess it never really occurred to me that I could have both, because my parents' relationship was the only thing I had to base it on. 

I’m an only child and I’ve never been close to my family and when I met you, it was the first time I ever felt loved. And that scared me, I grew dependent on you and that made me feel weak. But actually now I think about it, it’s quite the opposite. You were my greatest strength, my one true ally. The only man to ever see me for who I am. I know this is probably all too little too late, but I thought at the very least I owed you an explanation.” 

By the time you finished talking you were out of breath. The whole drive here you’d been rehearsing this speech in your head, and you had to get it all out before Luke said anything to steer you off track. 

He stared at you the whole time, processing every single word you said carefully. He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed deeply.

“You hurt me consistently, over and over again. And each time was more painful than the last. How do I know you aren’t going to do that again? I can’t take another blow, Y/N, it might actually kill me.” He looked so broken at that moment and you hated yourself for putting him through this. 

You saw in his eyes the extent of the damage you’d done to the man standing before you, the man who had only ever loved you unconditionally. You knew this had to be it, you had to be sure otherwise there may be no coming back for Luke again. 

You took a tentative step closer to him, shoving your hands in the pocket of your old army jacket. 

“You don’t know, not for sure. I can stand here and promise you that I never intend to hurt you again, that I love you and I’m sure I always will. But nothing in life is guaranteed, Luke. What I can guarantee, with absolute certainty as I stand here right now is that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Every fucking day from now until enternity.” You’d started to cry heavily, as if a damn had broken behind your eyes. 

Luke’s own eyes welled up as he struggled not to reach out and grab you. 

“Why are you wearing your fatigues?” He found himself asking. 

You looked down at yourself and despite your tears you started to laugh. 

“I don’t know. I guess maybe I was hoping it would remind you of the girl you fell in love with and not the crazy person I’ve become.” 

“You’ve always been a little crazy.” He cracked a smile. “But that’s part of why I love you. And I want to spend every damn day from now until eternity with you, crazy and all.” 

“You do?” You sniffed, bottom lip quivering slightly. 

“Always have.” He shrugged. 

You smiled brightly, maybe for the first time in years and withdrew your hands from your pockets. You turned one over and unballed your fist, revealing the dainty silver ring cradled inside. You looked up at Luke with a small shrug. 

“You promised.” You proffered it towards him. “You promised me one day you’d ask and I promised I’d say yes.” 

Luke’s tears overflowed now as he nodded his head, picking the ring up between his fingers. His heart hammered against his chest and his stomach coiled with knots as he slowly lowered himself to one knee in front of you. 

“This was far from how I ever planned on doing this.” He smiled through his tears. “There was meant to be dinner and rose petals and a freaking string quartet.” 

“I don’t care.” You shook your head. “Just ask me. Just finally ask me the damn question.” 

“Ok.” He took hold of your left hand and brought it to his lips to kiss the back of it before looking up into your eyes. “Y/N Y/L/N, this has been the longest time in the making, but will you marry me?” 

“Can I think about it?” You teased him with a giggle. 

Luke smirked at you, giving your hand a playful tug. 

“I swear to god, private…”

“Alright, alright!” You laughed with a roll of your eye. “Yes, ok? A hundred, thousand times yes. Yes I will marry you, Sarg.” 

“About damn time.” He slid the ring on your finger before pushing himself up, grabbing your face in his hands and kissing you. 

You slung your arms around his neck, holding onto him for dear life, too afraid to ever let him go again. The kiss was different from any the two of you had ever shared before. It held a deep understanding that no words could accurately communicate. 

It was the acknowledgment that the two of you had put each other through hell in your own ways, and the comprehension that to make this work things needed to be different this time around. It was acceptance that you both needed to try harder, to be better for one another if you stood a chance this time. It was the final admittance of two people who were unfathomably in love and couldn’t live without each other. 

You and Luke would surely still have your ups and downs, life wasn’t perfect after all. But at long last the war was over, you could finally stop fighting. You’d reached your armistice, in agreement to end all conflict and ceasefire. From the Iraqi desert to the front lines of your heart, your turbulent relationship had come this close to destroying you both. 

But a soldier never quits no matter how arduous the battle. And Luke Alvez was more than worth the fight. 

Taglist

@carolinesbookworld @wooya1224 @littlebeanwrites @randomramblings @telepathay @lukealvezswifey

[mariacallous]

Experience has taught me that for every tender, generously filled hamantaschen is a dry, bland one. I feel like I’m rolling the dice every time I bite into one of these ubiquitous Purim cookies. 

Luckily for me, there’s a bounty of alternative Purim cookies hailing from Jewish communities from around the world — Iraq, France, and Turkey, to name a few. Some are delicate and buttery, some are crisp and flaky. Some are perfumed with cardamom, and others with orange blossom water.

Whether you’re a hamantaschen devotee or not, join me and dip your hand into the global cookie jar this Purim.

[ashbrat488]

Flower In The Desert - Intro

Captain Syverson Fanfic

Trigger warnings: smut(duh), violence, assault

A/N: Will follow (loosely) the storyline of Sand Castle and beyond...

"I don't need your assistance," Violet declares, springing to her feet inside her father's office, eagerly anticipating her new assignment.

"I just want to protect you!" Her father's anger boils over as he slams his fist onto the desk. He had always longed for a son, perhaps excessively, and this had put undue pressure on Violet, his daughter and only child, to fill that role. She yearned to impress him, to make him proud, but she consistently undermined him.

"No, Dad!" She refuses to let his gruff exterior deter her from her mission and counters, "I didn't endure medical school just to be stuck in an office somewhere stateside. I want to be where the action is."

Charles furrows his brow, pinching the bridge of his nose with a frown. "Vi," he warns as she rolls her eyes and takes her seat again. "I'm not your father here..."

"Sorry... Major General Becker. If you aren't my father here, then stop giving me special treatment..."

He sighs, gazing at his daughter who resembles his late wife so much that it saddens him to look at her. "Fine. I will arrange it." He watches a grin spread across her face as she jumps to her feet again, ready to leave the office. "But Vi?"

"Yeah, Dad?" She stops and faces him once more as he stands and approaches her, resting his hands on her shoulders. He was never one for displays of affection, but she knows when one is coming. She braces herself, standing taller and raising her chin to meet his gaze.

"I'm already proud of you... so don't try to be a hero, okay?"

"Dad," she whines, shaking her head and rolling her eyes as he holds her chin.

"Promise me. I lost your mother. I can't bear losing you too."

Her chin trembles under his grip, and she gives him a slight nod just before he pulls her into an embrace, planting a tender kiss on the top of her head. "I promise."

"Good," he clears his throat, pulling away from her. "You'll receive an officer ranking for your education and experience."

She immediately shakes her head as he raises his brows. "No. I don't want to be an officer. What's wrong with Sergeant?"

Charles shakes his head, crossing his arms over his chest. "You said you wanted to be in the battle; I'm putting you in the middle of it. You've been in the army since you turned 18, did ROTC before that, and you have a medical degree. You even graduated high school early, for fuck's sake. I have every right to make you an officer, and I will."

She huffs, rolling her eyes as she hears her father clear his throat. She sighs, standing at attention as she brings her eyes back to his. "Fine."

"Good. I'll have you as an O-1. Second Lieutenant."

"Fine," she repeats, annoyed at the ranking but excited to have gotten her way.

"It's settled then. You'll go to Kuwait and meet with your unit before they head to Iraq, to your new Captain, Syverson..."

"Syverson?" She asks, masking a small smile as her heart flutters in her chest. Syverson was six years older than her, and she had a crush on him ever since they first met when she was 16 and he was working under her father.

"Something wrong with that?" Charles asks, noticing the slight flush on her cheeks as she shakes her head, remaining silent. "Fair enough." He stands at attention with his hand on his forehead. "Dismissed."

She nods, saluting him, and leaves after his command. He takes his seat behind the desk again, retrieving his satellite phone from the top drawer and dialing a number.

A gruff "hello?" resonates from the other end, eliciting a small smirk from him as one of his favorite protégés answers his call.

"Captain... I have a proposition for you."

"Major General... please, go ahead," Syverson responds, his curiosity piqued.

Chapter 1

[marimayscarlett]

Hiiii

Just wanted to ask if you had any song recommendations for the Rosenrot album

Danke schön!

Hi 🌹

I always have the impression that Rosenrot is a such an underrated album, eventhough it has some absolute gems on it. Here are my five favourite songs from this album (in no particular order), thus pretty subjective recommendations and maybe not everyone's pick:

Wonderful song, stays in my head for 3 to 5 business days when I listen to it, extremely catchy and great poetic lyrics.

A calm and melancholic song, one of my favourites, almost has like a bittersweet and delicate feel to it - it's almost like a soothing lullaby, promising good stuff (like the band playing for you) happen to people who are good and well-behaved or need some cheering up.

Masterpiece. If you ask me. Unbelievably tender and mesmerizing lyrics (really, the german wording is absolutely wonderful) and yet such an uneasy aetmosphere.

Another masterpiece. The music is powerful, the lyrics are paint the picture of a boy wanting to destroy everything in his path, but most of all it's the meaning of this song for me. Paul once explained it's meant as an analogy to George W. Bush's and the US military's destructive rage in Iraq. In the beginning of the song, the band used the song 'Huma Kuşu' by Devrim Kaya - a song with an almost ethereal sound and lyrics, from the point of view of a phoenix bird.

A song which is very much modelled after the old german children's story about Paulinchen (a girl which played with matches, caught fire and died - to warn children of the dangers of fire) from the book "Struwwelpeter". Gruesome and morbid and the riffs are amazing.

Bonus:

THIS SONG SLAPS SO HARD MAN. Plus Richard's eyebrows in the music video are lovely and on point, don't come for me

[totallyhussein-blog]

“Iraq, you are in our hearts”

The Awafi Kitchen is where Arab and Jewish cuisine are one. They are part of the Iraqi Jewish community and are based in Boston, USA. All of their family were displaced from Iraq between 1950 and 1970. The following statement and photograph were posted on the Facebook page of the Awafi Kitchen, and was titled ‘Our Return to Iraq’.

“Last month, after five decades away, members of our family finally walked the streets in Baghdad, the city they once called home. Out of hundreds  of us in diaspora across the world, we were the first in our family to set foot in Baghdad since our waves of displacement between the 50s and 70s.

The trip was every feeling all at once. Pure joy, gratitude, and reconnection, inextricable from the grief and pain of facing our decades of separation, and seeing much of our family’s hometown deeply changed. 

Our whole lives we’ve dreamed of witnessing the beautiful Baghdad we have been painted in memories. We found beauty, but also bore witness to the impact of decades of war, the US occupation, and ongoing resource extraction, and how this has limited the place’s ability to thrive.

That being said, the people we met were incredible. We spent two weeks surrounded by an abundance of love and warmth everywhere we went. There's beautiful new realities rebuilding. Iraqis returning, Iraqis who have stayed through it all. 

Tender moments of mutual curiosity and excitement: younger Iraqis eager to learn about the old Baghdad of our family’s youth, the lost Jewish history of the city, and in turn our family eager to learn what it’s like to live as an Iraqi in the contemporary world. And ultimately, as friends reminded us, we accomplished our goal: it was just about touching foot to earth, and that we did.

For any Iraqis considering returning like we did, know that you can count on us for advice or perspective. Don’t hesitate to reach out. And for Iraqis with a reluctance to return, for those who still cannot, we empathize with you. Iraq, you are in our hearts.”

[scotianostra]

Poets Heads Edinburgh Park.

Jackie Kay

Jackie was born to a Scottish mother and Nigerian father in Edinburgh on 9th November 1961, and was adopted as a baby by Helen and John Kay, who had already adopted a boy, Maxwell. The family lived in Bishopbriggs, Glasgow, where John worked for the Communist Party of Great Britain, and Helen was the Scottish secretary of the Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament. Kay has drawn on her unconventional upbringing in her poetry, and described it with humour and great affection in her autobiographical account of the search for her birth parents, Red Dust Road, which she has called a ‘love letter’ to her adoptive parents.

The poem here is Life Mask,( for Julia Darling and as usual it is not my favourite of Jackie's I like poems I can relate to a wee bit, and the second one hits the mark. Check it out, George Square, now I can relate to that straight away, and the subject, also, if I live to be the age of her father, in the poem, I hope I am still able to attend protests rallies.

Life Mask.

When the senses come back in the morning, the nose is a mouth full of spring: the mouth is an earful of birdsong; the eyes are lips on the camomile lawn; the ear is an eye of calm blue sky.

When the broken heart begins to mind, the heart is a bird with a tender wing,  the tears are pear blossom blossoming, the shaken love grows green shining leaves,  the throat doesn’t close, it is opening

like a long necked swan in the morning,  like the sea and the river meeting,  like the huge heron’s soaring wings: I sat up with my pale face in my hands And all of a sudden it was spring.

My seventy-seven-year-old father put his reading glasses on to help my mother do the buttons on the back of her dress. ‘What a pair the two of us are!’ my mother said, ‘Me with my sore wrist, you with your bad eyes, your soft thumbs!’

And off they went, my two parents to march against the war in Iraq, him with his plastic hips. Her with her arthritis, to congregate at George Square, where the banners waved at each other like old friends, flapping, where they’d met for so many marches over their years, for peace on earth, for pity’s sake, for peace, for peace.

[createatorin3d]

Healing Broken Heart

Summary:

Seymour is struggling with PTSD that he suffered from because of the terrible events. He wished someone would help him heal the impairments until an Irish woman, who turned out to be Moira O'Deorain herself, entered his office. Moira notices that Seymour has difficulty focusing on work and is distracted from it. She decided to help him by telling him how to get rid of the wounds mentally and become a real man again.

(TW: mentions of abuse)

At Springfield Elementary, Skinner is having a hard time focusing on doing tasks and paperwork he had. He also struggles with PTSD due to awful events like being tortured by his archenemy Bart, getting his heart broken by his ex-fiancée Edna Krabappel, being humiliated by his boss Superintendent Chalmers, and getting abused by his mother, Agnes.

"Stupid people who tried to humiliate me for the rest of my life." Skinner is upset while crumpling one of the paperwork. He starts to sob, then lays his head down on the desk until hearing the soft knock sound coming from outside of his office. "Come in." Skinner muffled tells someone to enter his office. It turned out to be a woman who said with an Irish accent, "Hello there. My name is Moira O'Deorain, nice to meet you." Skinner raises his head slightly and sees Moira, who worked for Talon and the Ministries in Oasis, Iraq.

"I'm Seymour Skinner, the principal of Springfield Elementary, and may I help you? Today is rough for me because I have a lot of paperwork and other stuff to do." Skinner explained about having a rough day at Springfield Elementary. Moira was very sympathetic towards Skinner during the conversation. She still listens to his tragic story and only takes the healing orb out, so she will wait for him to finish it."But my life was also miserable because my mother treated me like a child despite being a 45-year-old man who got a job as a principal. She also harshly criticized me for having a choice in women, especially Edna Krabappel, a former fourth-grade teacher. Speaking of Edna, she used to date me before we became engaged, but sadly, Edna left me because she didn't want me to marry her. Another reason why Edna left me aside from canceling the wedding is because she doesn't want to commit to her, namely letting my mother, who with me still lives, control me anymore. " He continues explaining the part of his life where Edna broke up with him because his mother controls his life.

"It sounds awful, especially when your family is trying to stop you from getting a girlfriend or refuses to accept that you're a grown man. Look at you; you're an ex-green beret who fought the Vietnam War back in the day. You have some combat skills that you should stand up to those who made your life despondent or controls you. But " Moira smirked at Skinner while telling him he should stand up. Skinner wipes the tears from his eyes gently, then starts to heal up after Moira steps closer to his desk, where she gives him a healing orb to get rid of the scars he has. Skinner doesn't feel pain.

"Good. The scars will be gone once you're done healing with my orbs. Then, it would help if you got a notebook and pen to learn about the behavioral impact of trauma. First, list any event you should face, then explain what happened in the past." Moira requests Skinner to write down the list in his notebook.

Four hours later, Skinner finishes explaining the mental behavior to Moira. "And this is how I got PTSD from the Vietnam War and other events. That's it about my worst memories, Moira." Skinner smiles softly at Moira. He gets up from the chair and walks towards her. Skinner gently strokes her cheek and gives her a tender kiss.

"Thanks to your help with the scientific hypothesis, Moira, I feel like a real man. However, would you like to join me to get some coffee after school? Also, I love your brilliant personality and orbs as well." Skinner offers Moira coffee after school. He takes out his hand to reach Moira's hand.

"Of course, Seymour. I accepted your offer. Where are we going to get some coffee?" seductively, Moira asked while taking her hand to hold Skinner's hand. "To Starbucks, sweetheart," Skinner answers in a sweet voice. They start to hold their hands and leave the office, and they fall in love after their relationship strengthens. Skinner is no longer a coward; his life has become healthier thanks to Moira's advance. "Remember, Seymour, if you are feeling down, then seek therapy and explain about the mental health issues you had. Okay?" Moira wants Skinner to seek therapy for mental illnesses such as PTSD.

"Why, thank you for reminding me about the schedule, sweetheart. I'll write down the calendar and set it on the alarm clock. Tomorrow, this day is going to be success." Skinner thanked her for the schedule for a therapy session. "Anytime, Seymour." Moira replied to Skinner, then kissed on the cheek. His face becomes reddened, and he smiles softly at her. Skinner locked the office's door and left Springfield Elementary. They turned friendship into a romantic relationship. Moira finds him not only professional and courageous but also optimistic and brainiac. Skinner and Moira begin to walk away while holding their hand together.

[redbelles]

for the fandom asks: 2, 4, 10! ❣️

2. what’s your favorite fandom you’ve ever been in with regards to the media itself?

the punisher, hands down. season one was designed to destroy me. it’s a meditation on grief and violence, on tenderness, on loyalty. it's a scathing deconstruction and condemnation of the american military's actions in iraq and afghanistan and right-wing attitudes at home in the states. jon bernthal gets beats up a lot and looks very hot all the time. the sandwich thing happens. it's perfect and no i will not be taking any questions at this time.

4. any fandoms that kinda suck(ed) to be in?

lmao stranger things fandom is hot garbage, and there are some truly shitty people in certain corners of twd fandom. ubfl, i'm looking directly at you

10. what’s a character you don’t understand the hype around?

less "don't understand" and more "think people should develop better taste" but i'm just gonna say it: alicent. her character was changed significantly from f&b to add some flavor to hotd and i know people love the changes, but she's such a shitty person! and not even in the fun way! i can't stand her!

send me some fandom asks

[blogntinthewind]

I'm unintentionally a massive Scottish stereotype.

I love all the stereotypical foods like haggis, tablet, shortbread, square sausage, tattie scones, stovies, deep fried pizza, macaroni pies, red lentil soup etc. I drank so much Irn-Bru in high school my lips were temporarily stained orange from the beta-carotene.

My knees are so knobbly I've got undiagnosed hypermobility. Trainspotting is one of my favourite films. I thrift most of my clothes and books. I've had the legal tender argument in an English corner shop, and my accent is indecipherable to locals in areas of England as north as Manchester. I'm stubborn, hot-headed and temperamental. I swear like Malcolm Tucker and I love groanworthy accent dependent puns (my favourite Scottish joke is "10 cows are standing in a field, which one is closest to Iraq? Coo eight!")

whats a stereotype for your country that you absolutely do. mine is that i unironically go "eh" and apologize a lot and i often drink maple syrup straight