#army medical exam

[guysmedical2]

army medicals begin

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[frank-o-meter]

Elvis’s medical exam when he entered the army.

[deebris]

Seems like destiny

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!Reader

Synopsis: After spending years in the bone marrow donation system, encouraged by the army, Simon was finally notified that they had found a match. He just didn't expect to find out that he would be donating it to his own son, who he had with his teenage love and never knew.

Warnings: Family problems, panic attacks, teenage pregnancy, swearing, mention of diseases such as leukemia, murder, archaic ideas, anguish.

Word count: 3.5 k

Any questions or errors, please let me know.

Simon always remembers how the army encouraged soldiers to be blood donors. There was a great concern within about it, as it was one of the ways the government found to help hospitals and people who depend on transfusions to survive.

Then campaigns for bone marrow donation began, but it was so rare to find someone compatible that after 6 years on the waiting list, Simon thought he would never find someone who would need him. But that changed two months ago when he received a call from the institute informing him that he should go there immediately.

He underwent more medical exams than he had ever done, and although he was a tough guy, he couldn't deny the pain he felt in the weeks following the procedure. Among so many people dying in beds waiting to find a donor, someone could finally heal because of him. It made Simon feel good about himself, as good as he hadn't felt in a long time. That had been one of the reasons why he joined the army: to help people.

Now he could only hope that whoever he donated to would improve. He found himself during the day thinking about it, wondering if in a few years it would affect him as much as it does now. It's not very fresh in his memory, but Simon is able to superficially remember the day he registered on the bone marrow donor list. He had been in the army for a short time, still a soldier, and "Ghost" didn't even exist yet.

He thought this would be put aside. He didn't understand if he would need to donate more often, not really knowing the process deeply. That's why when he received another call from the same institute, he thought there had been some mistake, or that they would need more, but the reason for the contact surprised him.

The recipient's caregiver wanted to meet him and was willing to break the standard anonymity by revealing their identity. Accepting the offer would mean that he would also need to disclose his personal information, which is why he hesitated so much. But as he constantly replayed the woman's words in his head, he grew restless.

"The caregiver wants to meet you," that's what she said. Could the recipient be a child? Or perhaps an elderly person? Or maybe someone who was already so ill that they could barely decide for themselves. He shouldn't have any information about this person, even something as empty as what that lady had let slip.

"You should accept. Everyone would like to have the opportunity to personally thank the person who saved their life," were the words of his Captain, John "Price." And it had been the push that Simon needed to agree to the idea.

Now, standing in front of the hospital room door, Ghost debated with himself whether he should open it. Just a few meters away was the little boy who had been haunting his mind for the past few days. And how did he know it was a boy? He had been directed to the children's oncology ward when he arrived at the reception minutes ago, as soon as he was cleared by the unit director, who already knew about the situation and the breach of anonymity.

Furthermore, the clipboard with the patient's information on the door also made it clear that it was a boy. The name "Lucas" was printed on the paper, accompanied by a surname that was familiar to him. There weren't many people in the UK with that name, which caught his attention.

All that separated him from the family was that door, dividing the cold hospital corridor from the room he could only hope would be less disheartening and empty. He didn't know if he would find a smile on the other side, or if he would be met with the sad gaze of the child's mother.

This woman had contacted him through a letter. On that day, he hadn't yet notified the institute that he was willing to speak with her, so the letter came anonymously since nothing had been filed. He read what she had to say, revealing some things, such as the fact that she was a single mother and was extremely grateful to God for sending him to save her son. Some paragraphs were difficult to read, where she recounted how she had lost hope before.

The little comfort he found in that text was when she talked about the boy. In those passages, her handwriting was less shaky, and he was sure she was happier when she wrote those parts of the letter. He knew that this had been her attempt to persuade him to come meet her, but without her knowing, he had already decided. Simon kept the piece of paper with him and reread it in his spare moments.

That stirred his emotions. He thought he had managed to harden his heart after everything he had been through, but he was wrong. Deep down in his soul, he was more emotional than he let on to others. He hoped that "Soap" would never find out, or he would be eternally tormented.

"Damn," he muttered softly, snapping back to reality. Simon began to bitterly regret agreeing to this. He should have declined and moved on. He could leave, but he was already here, so he mustered up the courage to knock on the wood.

He considered himself presentable in the civilian clothes he wore, accustomed to the heavy military equipment he carried all day at the base, and also missing the mask covering his face. Simon adjusted the collar of his dress shirt, as a way to occupy his sweaty hands, more nervous about the approaching footsteps he heard than his appearance.

Before the door opened, he had already told himself he would remain silent and wait for the boy's mother to start the conversation. If she asked who he was, he would state his name and explain why was there. But as the woman inside was revealed to him, he fell silent not because he had decided to, but because he was speechless. Suddenly, those seconds he spent admiring the child's surname on the door seemed like a scene from a comedy movie to him. How ironic it is considering he was just thinking about you moments ago and, like magic, you appeared?

It seemed like you took a few extra seconds to recognize him, and he doesn't judge you for that. Although you have changed and are now an adult woman, with a more mature face and body, he had changed much more since he was a teenager. Back when you two were in school, he was shorter and thinner, and he didn't have any of the scars on his face.

But it wasn't just that which changed in him. You stared in complete shock at how different the demeanor of the guy you were in love with was. He was more serious, more intimidating, very different from his brother, Thomas, whom you had seen years ago, just a few days before he was brutally murdered along with his wife and child.

Your legs went weak, and your eyes burned with tears threatening to overflow. You wanted so desperately to say something, but nothing could come out of your mouth. Was this real, after all? You withdrew your hand from the doorknob, not realizing you had been gripping it tightly until now, and sat in the nearest chair to avoid collapsing to the ground.

Your blood pressure had surely dropped, as you were sweating cold and seeing black spots. What were the chances, after so many years and after everything you had been through, of finally finding him just when you weren't even trying anymore?

Your memories since you found out you were pregnant began to flood back. You vividly remember your father's reaction when he found out you were having a baby; what he said when found out that the neighbor's son, Simon, was the father of the child; how you struggled to escape him after he took you away to another state, to cover up the shame of having a "prostitute" as a daughter.

You never managed to tell Simon, and when you returned to that town, the town where you two met, he was no longer there. You didn't have a penny in your pocket and only survived that week because of Tommy's help. He gave you a bed to sleep in, food, and clothes, both for you and his nephew. You remembered the perplexed expression he had when analyzed Lucas's appearance, it was impossible to deny that he was a Riley.

It was because of him that you found out Simon was in the army and that he hadn't come home in months.

You never managed to thank him properly. Just two days after showing up there, Tommy handed you half of the money he had in a bank deposit. He told you that a good part of that money belonged to Simon, and therefore, it belonged to your son too. You rented a hotel room so as not to continue bothering his wife, especially since she now had to cook and clean for five people.

You left for the hotel with the promise to reward him someday and continued making visits while anxiously tried to contact his brother on his phone, but Simon never answered. You didn't have a cell phone and couldn't spend the money Tommy gave you so lightly, deciding to prioritize your son's needs.

Several voicemails were recorded, but there was never a response. You felt angry at Simon. You screamed into your pillow, frustrated for not being answered and repeating to yourself how stupid he was. But the possibility that maybe he was dead haunted you. Tommy had told you how complex his work in the army was, that it was more dangerous than usual.

You always feared what you would find when you saw him again. He could have a wife, a beautiful house, and everything you ever wanted to have with him one day but couldn't. He could have children, children who had the opportunity to grow up with him, unlike Lucas. And then when you found out that no, none of that had happened, a kind of happiness flooded your chest, even though nothing in the world guaranteed that he would want anything with you again. The last time you had anything, you two were barely adults, until one day you left without saying anything. You thought he hated you.

That lasted until one time, when you went to Tommy's house, there was nothing there but blood. You still remember how scared you were when you found the broken door and called the police, who surrounded the scene of the violent crime that had just happened. You waited so long, but so long for Simon to show up. What kind of person doesn't attend their own brother's funeral? That's when you decided to forget him and threw away the phone number you had written down.

Some more time later, when Lucas had just turned 7 years old, your life was turning upside down again. It all started with symptoms of a common virus. He had fevers, weakness, and got tired very easily. Then he started losing weight and getting pale. Many pediatricians said it could be anemia or hepatitis, but more symptoms kept emerging. Joint pains came, as did swellings, and after a year of medical investigation, the diagnosis came: leukemia.

You entered a state of denial. Was there something wrong with his diet? Or his lifestyle? It could be genetic, but there were no cases of cancer in your family. Maybe the Rileys had some?

Since that day, your life has never been the same. With each passing month, your son only got worse. You would give all your savings, live on the streets, or even rob a bank if it meant seeing your baby well again. Fortunately, the government offered treatment for free, but some medicines needed to be acquired more urgently than the hospital could provide, and medicines for such treatment were not cheap at all.

The only thing that could cure your boy was the marrow from a compatible donor. You prayed so much that you could save him, but when the tests were done, it was impossible. If no one in the family could donate, it was almost a death sentence. Your last hope was your father. You hoped to never have to see him again, let alone tell him where you had run away to, but now you were no longer the same foolish young girl who depended on his money.

Despite everything, you knew he loved his grandson, and a single phone call was enough to make him come running. In recent years, he had been worried about the two of you, not knowing where you had gone. He never had the courage to admit he was wrong, and apologizing was never his strong point, but he regrets every day what he did. That day he didn't know how to react. He wanted to kill Simon, the brat who got his only daughter pregnant, just as he was afraid you would become a joke in neighborhood for having such a young son. He only managed to think about leaving to avoid a disaster, never asking what you wanted or how you felt.

For the first time, when he saw you so tired and alone, he held his tongue to not say anything that could ruin everything. Instead, he hugged you tightly, and you were so craving someone's company that you curled up in his arms just like when you were a little girl. He was a grumpy and archaic man, someone who made many mistakes, who still makes them, but he still has humanity within him.

Unfortunately, he was not a match either.

You stopped daydreaming, and you didn't realize how bad you were until you saw an adult Simon crouched in front of you, shouting in the hallway for a doctor, but you tried to silence him by grabbing the nails on his rolled-up shirt sleeve, catching his attention. The last thing you want is for the doctors responsible for your son's health to be alarmed, thinking he's worsened. These professionals worked as hard for him as you did. Simon seemed to understand and went to close the door to prevent curious eyes from appearing.

Simon looked at you with sadness, and it crushed your heart. He was afraid you wouldn't be able to breathe properly again; he knew you were desperately begging for air, but couldn't draw it in. He hesitated to touch you, but gave in to the desire and placed both hands on your cheeks. He was incredulous. It was really you, the girl he loved most in his entire life, more than he thought he was capable of loving another woman. Simon had imagined so many times meeting you again, and he had so many doubts.

"Calm down," he repeated in a whisper, locking his eyes onto yours. He knew panic attacks; he had experienced them himself several times. "I know. I know, dear. It's a lot to process."

"You…" your voice tried to come out amidst desperate breaths, while also trying to swallow the lump in your throat. Your hands grabbed both of his wrists, and your thumb smoothed over the skin, feeling his heartbeat. "It's you who…?"

"Yes. Yes, it's me, the donor," he quickly confirmed, even before you could finish the question. "Don't speak. Breathe."

You were managing to calm down and think more rationally. Understanding hit you like a bucket of cold water, and your embrace made the big burly man he had become freeze. The feeling was so strange. Of course, among so many people, the only one who could save your little son would be his own father. The person with whom he shared half of his genes.

"He's yours, Si," your voice sounded like a spell in his ear, the old nickname sending shivers down his spine. Your tone was so gentle that he barely understood the meaning of the phrase. But soon he felt his lips quivering, recounting the events of the past few months and how unbelievable this would sound if he told this story to someone. "I swear he's yours," you repeated as if that made it easier to assimilate.

The content of that letter invaded his mind again and again. He felt horrible.

Simon pulled you closer to him, your bodies almost merging. You were still beautiful, even in your disheveled state, betraying exhaustion. And even after so much time, it was as if nothing had changed between the two of you. He knew there was a small body behind him, sleeping peacefully in the bed, but he didn't dare to look. He could hear the sound of the machines, and then it all came crashing down on his shoulders at once: he had a son with you. By his calculations, the boy should be 9 years old. Wow! He hadn't seen you in over a decade.

"I have so many questions," he confessed with a choked voice, and you don't remember ever seeing him cry before when you were younger.

"I searched for you so much. I called so many times," the last thing you wanted was to make him feel guilty, but hearing that, he felt like he should have kept searching for you too. As soon as you left, he went asking where your father had gone. He worried and tried to find out something, until enlisted in the army, and then all he did from then on was just think about you; never seeking; never trying in any way to find you again because it seemed easier to accept that you had left forever.

You tried to distance yourself, even though you hated it, to look at his face one more time. Simon allowed you to run your fingers over his features until your eyes landed on your son behind him. He knew where your gaze had gone, but he didn't follow it. And of course, you would understand what was happening.

"Look at him," you pleaded with tenderness, but he shook his head while rubbing his eyes, as if they hurt. "You're hurting me doing this, Simon."

The last thing he wanted was for you to think he was rejecting the boy, so he stood up, fighting the weakness in his legs and slowly approaching the bed. The child's face was turned exactly in his direction, as if anticipating he would be there, but his eyes were closed, and his breathing was peaceful. It was only then that Simon realized how he was hyperventilating until he felt your hand gently pushing him closer.

His heart hammered in his chest, overwhelmed by anxiety and fear, as he watched his pale and still son. Each step was a journey through an ocean of uncertainty, each breath an effort to maintain composure in the face of the storm raging within him.

As he leaned over the fragile and inert body of the boy, a wave of emotions engulfed him. His broken heart cried out to stop the affliction that plagued his son, that beloved being he barely knew.

Tears blurred his vision as he stroked Lucas's hand, so small and vulnerable compared to his, so similar to yours. Each touch was a silent promise to stand by him in every moment, even in the darkest and most painful.

He found himself whispering words of comfort, as if each sentence could ignite a spark of life in his son's dormant soul. He pleaded to the heavens, to the stars, to any higher power that could hear, for a miracle, for a chance to see those childish eyes shine for the first time in his life. He was an identical copy of Simon at that age, and it made him wonder if the color of his irises was also the same, the same shade of brown. A sudden curiosity arose: what was his voice like? Would it sound like yours, so gentle and reassuring, or could it somehow sound like his?

There, in that moment, time seemed to freeze, the whole world disappearing. It was as if he were dreaming. There was no way all of this could be true, someone must be playing a prank on him. He wanted to look at your face again, to smell you while he ran his hands through your hair to make sure it was really you, flesh and blood. "He's going to be okay," he poured out the words, even though he knew the danger in promising that, and you dove into them, knowing you didn't have to face everything alone anymore.

[lunamoonbby]

🌺💖🎀Simon's Little House Wife🌺💖🎀

Gif credit goes to @poohbea

Warning ⚠️: slight body insecurities on Simon's end, female reader, reader is referred to be short like 4'11 height, reader being called wifey or lovie simon is referred to as hubby, reader having a slight belly pouch, and NSFW MINORS DON'T INTERACT

Being Simon's short little house wife who enjoys cooking and baking sweets for her hubby cause he's big and needs a the nutritional food he can get.

Simon who wasn't a big fan of sweets until he tasted a cupcake from his lovie.

Simon who can't help himself to just only one plate and will eat how ever much servings as he possibly can

Lovie who has to cook for a literal army meaning the pot that can have everyone eat the same leftovers for 5 days(I'm pretty sure we all know the pot) cause her hubby has an appetite as big as him.

The pot never really having 5 day leftovers inside but only enough for lovie and hubby to have for lunch the very next day

Lovie who make sure there is always sweets around, like cake, cupcakes, brownies, cookies, pies...just baked goods in general

Simon who starts to gain a bit of weight but doesn't know until someone tells him

Wifey who enjoys seeing the weight he put on cause it was her food that did that, and Simon is much more comfortable to cuddle with since he isn't all muscle anymore and has a nice dad bod going on

Simon who did his on base medical exam finding out he gained weight cause the doctor asked if he was bulking again (doctor was afraid he was going to go from walking brick wall to a walking tank cause he's already menacing enough)

Simon who is confused and when he really sees himself that's when he notice the weight gain

Simon who comes home and eats only a little bit of food and wifey being confused as to why that's happening

Wifey asking simon what's wrong you always EAT my cooking and that looks like a snack for you

Simon who tells her his insecurities saying he gained weight and he fears that he's no longer attractive

Lovie giving him that look before saying that she knows about the weight gain and that he's still the simon she married and that he's much more comfortable to cuddle now that he's not pure muscle, and his body heat keeps her warm at night, and it swells her with pride knowing that her food is that great and that he is getting the nourishment that he needs, and that he also eats her out like a man starved leaving no crumbs behind

So with that said simon is like I want dessert first and lovie being excited cause she made a yummy peach cobbler and Simon having to tell her not that kind of dessert but I will have me a piece of that cobbler when I'm done with you and my dinner

Lovie not being able to wait anymore goes in the living room lies down on the couch and lifts the skirt part of her dress up and removes her panties so Simon can get to eating which he does until reader has to push him away and squeeze her thighs together like she's gonna crush his skull

Simon who is content with his life

Lovie who brought in a batch of cupcakes for 141 cause it was prices birthday and it gave her and excuse to be a little baker

Soap saying that his LT's wife looks like a milf cause the sundress + belly pouch = mom bod and she also mothers the 141 and ghost reprimanding soap

141 getting a taste of lovies cupcakes and everyone telling ghost that they can see why he gained weight cause his lovie just makes really delicious food

Wifey who is like say all what you want about my hubby but I love him just the way he is, he looks even more grizzly, he knows exactly how to satisfy me and I love my walking tank he makes my size kink go brrr and he keeps me very warm when it's cold just like a bear and she just starts singing cuffing season by SZA

Simon bringing his wife in for a hug cause his wife is his hype woman and he can't get over how loving she is

141 wanting to have a wife like Simon's cause they're all jealous of the treatment simon is getting from his wife

[mariacallous]

CAIRO—Although Egypt has refused to accept refugees from the Gaza Strip, more than 100,000 Palestinians have crossed the border into Egypt since the start of Israel’s offensive in Gaza following Hamas’s attack on Oct. 7, 2023.

Khaled Shabir, a 29-year-old man, is one of the Palestinians who managed to flee. He entered Egypt in March, four months after the Israeli army bombed his house in the southern Gazan city of Khan Yunis. The attack killed his parents, but he survived with crushed bones in his foot, thigh, and hand, which landed him in a hospital and then a field medical facility.

Some Palestinians are able to get a free medical transfer to Egypt for life-threatening conditions. But Shabir had to go the route of most who have fled: paying Hala Consulting and Tourism, the only company that secures passage from Gaza into Egypt. Hala, whose owner reportedly has close ties with the Egyptian authorities, charges $2,500 to $5,000 per person crossing over—much more than most Palestinians can afford.

Shabir did not have the money. But with a crowdfunding campaign, he was able to raise $5,000 to cross into Egypt. “Doctors at the hospital were sympathetic to my condition and waived their financial fees for my surgeries,” he wrote in a text message from his hospital bed in Cairo on June 4.

Like most Palestinians who have recently arrived in Egypt, Shabir has found himself in a strange position: Because he is not technically a refugee, he isn’t eligible for most international aid for refugees, unlike his counterparts back in Gaza. Eight Palestinians in Egypt interviewed for this story said they hadn’t received any humanitarian relief from international organizations. This has left them dependent on the goodwill of others—and increasingly at risk of being unable to get by.

Palestinians who have fled are reaching Egypt at a time when the country is experiencing its worst economic crisis in decades. In recent years, Egypt’s inflation rates have reached all-time highs, rent and food prices have soared, and millions of people have fallen into poverty.

It is especially difficult for Palestinians to navigate Egypt’s crisis. The majority of recent arrivals do not have official residency documents, so they cannot enroll their children in public school, apply for jobs, or receive health care and other benefits, according to an official from the Palestinian Embassy in Cairo who spoke with Foreign Policy on the condition of anonymity.

The official said on June 30 that just three international organizations have provided assistance to Palestinians who have fled to Egypt, and it has only reached a small portion of them. This aid includes $200 from the Islamic World Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization for 500 students, as well as medical and psychological care from Save the Children and UNICEF for a few injured infants.

Even for those with more resources, life has grown tough as their savings have run low. Nagham, a 23-year-old college student majoring in commerce, left Gaza at the end of January to stay with relatives in Cairo after the Israeli military destroyed her home and her husband’s barber shop. Because she had residency papers and was already enrolled at Cairo University, Nagham—who preferred to use only her first name—did not have to pay for entry. (Before the war, she studied online and only went to Cairo for exams.) But after arriving in Cairo, Nagham had to sell her wedding ring and other jewelry to raise the funds needed to pay transit fees to bring her husband to safety.

Now, she said, “we’re in a really bad financial situation.” As of April, she was being treated for a cervical infection she contracted from contaminated water in the first few months of the war. In May, Nagham sought financial aid from the Palestinian Embassy in Cairo, but it did not provide any help. The United Nations Relief and Works Agency for Palestine Refugees (UNRWA), meanwhile, included her name in a registry tallying the number of Palestinians in Egypt, but she is not sure whether this implies any forthcoming aid.

“We’re starting over from scratch,” Nagham said. “I feel like we are in a nightmare.”

Kamel Mohamed, a 23-year-old who left Gaza in April, said that the majority of university students he knows from Gaza are running out of money, especially after paying the transit fees. He is currently applying for scholarships to study at a university in Egypt or other Arab countries. But in the meantime, international organizations have not provided any support, leaving him dependent on monthly aid from two local charities in Egypt.

“We are from a region devastated by war, and the people there have lost everything,” Mohamed said. “International organizations need to play a part and provide assistance.”

Jeff Crisp, a visiting research fellow at the University of Oxford’s Refugee Studies Centre, echoed this sentiment. “It should be the responsibility of the UN as a whole (UNHCR, WFP, UNICEF, IOM, etc.) to step in and support the Palestinians,” he wrote via email.

One major problem is that those who have fled Gaza are not considered refugees. This means that the two U.N. refugee agencies—the U.N. High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR), which protects non-Palestinian refugees, and UNRWA, which is solely responsible for Palestinian refugees—can’t support them.

UNRWA spokesperson Tamara Alrifai wrote in an email to Foreign Policy, “UNRWA does not have programs in Egypt, in the way it runs schools, health centers and social support in the areas where it has a mandate to operate.” She added that UNRWA, unlike UNHCR, “does not have a mandate to resettle refugees into new countries.”

The Egyptian government has refused to recognize Palestinians as refugees since 1978, instead referring to them as “our guests” or “our siblings.” It has long opposed both the establishment of a UNRWA operational office in Cairo and the displacement of Gaza’s population into its territory, citing potential threats to regional security and fears that Israel would not allow displaced Palestinians to return to the coastal enclave.

But many experts, including the U.N.’s special rapporteur on torture, argue that Egypt has legal obligations to accept refugees. Crisp stated in his email, “Egypt is a signatory to the UN Refugee Convention and should do what it can to support any that arrive from Gaza.” He added that Palestinians who fled war should be treated as displaced people.

For now, without residency papers, most of the Palestinians who recently arrived from Gaza are at risk of deportation. The Palestinian Embassy in Cairo is urging Egyptian authorities to provide papers as soon as possible so that children who have left Gaza can attend school in the fall, according to the embassy official.

The Egyptian government has, however, supported some Palestinians who have been injured in the war. Health Minister Khaled Abdel Ghaffar said in May that around 5,500 injured people had been evacuated from Gaza for medical care in 160 hospitals across Egypt since the start of the conflict. These individuals are treated at the Egyptian government’s expense.

The process, however, is not easy. “It was a torture journey,” said Um Qusai, who was able to leave Gaza so that her six-year-old daughter, Noor, could get eye surgery. One of Noor’s eyes had fallen out after debris from an Israeli bomb fell onto her bedroom in October.

After six months in the European Hospital in Gaza, Um Qusai finally secured a medical transfer for Noor, making their entry to Egypt free. But because they did not have passports, she had to wait with Noor and her two other children for 12 hours at the Rafah border crossing, while Noor was in agonizing pain, before border authorities let them in.

Once they arrive in Egypt, many Palestinians who received free medical transfers are not allowed to leave the hospital. A number of those patients, along with family members accompanying them, told Foreign Policy that they felt trapped inside hospitals and would only be permitted to leave if they returned to Gaza.

Egyptian volunteers have arranged trips to bring Palestinian patients food, medication, and clothing. However, some volunteers, who spoke on the condition of anonymity, said they had to undergo lengthy bureaucratic procedures to obtain authorization from Egyptian officials to visit the patients due to strict hospital security measures.

For now, many Palestinians in Egypt must rely on the support of local charities and grassroots initiatives to get by.

In November, Sherif Mohyeldeen, an Egyptian researcher and nonresident fellow at the Carnegie Middle East Center, launched For the People, a grassroots group with about 60 members, to support injured Palestinians and their families in Cairo and Alexandria, Egypt. So far, he said, the initiative has collected donations to support more than 1,200 Palestinians with food and cash assistance for rent.

“People have come here with only their clothes,” Mohyeldeen said. “There is a huge amount of psychological and physical suffering.” The Palestinian Centre for Policy and Survey Research has reported that more than 60 percent of people in Gaza have lost family members since Israel’s war—which has killed more than 40,000 people in the territory, according to the Gaza Health Ministry—began in October.

Sherif added that his group has yet to find solutions for families who need prosthetic limbs or chemotherapy, both of which are extremely expensive, as well as Palestinian students whose annual university tuition in Egypt exceeds $4,000.

Abdullah Abu al-Aoun, a 26-year-old man from a wealthy family in Gaza, is also trying to help others who have fled. His family owned many buildings and two restaurants in Gaza’s Remal district, all of which were bombed by the Israeli army. After fleeing Gaza with 22 members of his family in February, he opened a Shawarma restaurant in Cairo. His mother’s Egyptian passport and the family’s savings of more than $100,000 helped him establish the business.

Aoun has hired three young men from Gaza in his new restaurant and has been helping other Palestinian families in Cairo with cash assistance. “Although there is still war in Gaza, some aid is getting in,” he said on May 25 while sitting in the restaurant, where four men from Gaza were dining. “Here, the families who left for Egypt are not getting any support.”

But individuals and small charities can only make so much of a difference compared with international organizations—and many Palestinians, including Aoun’s family, know that they may have to stay in Egypt for years to come due to the scale of destruction in Gaza. According to the Palestinian Embassy official, many more Palestinians are expected to arrive in the coming months. With no humanitarian relief on the horizon and Cairo so far refusing to provide residency permits, they sink deeper into uncertainty with each passing day.

“What really scares me is the unknown future,” Naghan said. “When will the crossing open again? If we return, will we live in a tent or on the rubble of our house?”

[etraytin]

Old War Stories

It's interesting to talk with my WWII vet client about the war. He's 101 now but his memories of that part of his life are still clear, just tempered by the weight of years that have gone by since then. All of his old friends and comrades are dead by now, though he pays close attention when a veteran gets on the news for turning 100 or an honor flight is mentioned. Almost everyone he knew from his youth and the prime of his life are gone now, but he likes to tell stories about them. He likes telling stories about the war, mostly funny stories about how bad the sanitary conditions were or the food or being asked to build their own semi-permanent shelter and nobody knowing how. He has a great story about the time he almost got court-martialed for all but peeing on a general who happened to be walking by; it's one of his favorites.

Sometimes, though, he gets into a pensive mood and the tone of the stories changes. We were out in his yard the other evening because he wanted to trim the hedges and I was trying to keep him from breaking a hip while trimming the hedges, when something reminded him of his time in Italy. It started out with funny stories about the young guys getting lined up for medical exams and STD checks, but then wandered down other paths. He told me how they would go out into the town and the little boys who barely knew English and called all the soldiers Joe would try to tell them about their sisters who were sixteen or seventeen or eighteen and who "liked soldiers." He explained that the people in the town had nothing, they didn't have enough to eat and they would steal or do whatever they had to do. He told me that one time he made his way into the commissary area and somehow secured a big can of mixed fruit to his abdomen with a belt and managed to sneak it out and give it to some of the kids. That part of the story was funny, but he wondered aloud what happened to any of those people later on, how many of them managed to survive.

My client is proud of helping to win the war, proud of his service, proud of the friends he lost and the sacrifices they made. But he is haunted by it too, in ways that show sometimes in the stories. He says he talked with the pilot of the Enola Gay once, who came from his bombardment group and who he knew a little bit. He told me he asked the pilot if he'd do it again, and the pilot told him that he was an officer in the Army AIr Corps, under oath and under orders, and in the same circumstances he would do it again. And then my client told me another story of the first bombing mission he went on, when the bombing was a fairly new thing, and how the people in the town below heard the engines and saw the contrails and came out of their houses to look at the planes. If they'd run a few hundred yards perpendicular to the plane trajectory, my client told me, they'd have been safe. But they didn't. They didn't know any better. He decided that was enough war stories and yard work for one evening and we went inside.

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Ayo can we get a hot ass "keep my wife's name out your goddamn mouth" Kathy x John

Kathy does routine physical exams obviously and in the showers Price overhears some locker room talking about his wife, how they'd like those hands to go further, like how she bosses them around etc.

Cue him rounding the corner to give them a solid punch and "Don't you dare utter my wife's name again"

Up to you if she rewards him ☺️

yes you fucking can!!!!

That's My Wife!

pairing: F!OC: Kathleen "Brass" Moore x John Price words: 1.5K~ cw: jealousy, protectiveness, arguments, violence, injuries (mentioned), misogyny, sexually-charged comments, "locker room talk", smutless smut.

The worst time of the year for the army medical staff at Tidworth is September. Oh, how the nurses and doctors hate the month of September during which, for two weeks straight, they see nothing but soldier after soldier for health checks and physical exams to confirm that they’re fit for service.

It’s, unfortunately, repetitive, mind-numbing and time-consuming. It’s also, unfortunately, a whole hands on deck situation. So, everyone who’s not actively doing something else, gets called in to help process the soldiers.

That’s how Kathleen ends up, every year, in the clinic, helping physicians assess the soldiers. Her jobs tend to be easy. More of the same that she tends to already do: measuring heights and weights, calculating their BMI and body fat percentages, using the stethoscope to listen to their heartbeat and breathing, manning the blood pressure gauge…

And, of course, the most interesting stuff. Conducting stress tests and having to strap all sorts of machines and sensors to the soldiers and monitor how they perform as they run on a treadmill, as well as doing physical checks on old injuries, scars…

In short, she spends a long time in front of shirtless men… and even longer touching their chests, arms, backs, and sometimes their legs, to check for injuries, which often ends with her crouching or kneeling at their feet.

And, of course, the stupid soldiers can’t keep their mouths shut. More often than not they make a few remarks about taking her out later, about coming to see her more often, of being lucky they get her for their checks…

It’s a nightmare. Kathleen hates it. In fact, she wishes she wasn’t tasked with that every year… But the choice is her or risking one of the pretty new interns having to do it, girls who haven’t yet developed the thick skin she has, and would likely giggle and get flustered at the lads behaviour… instead of calling them out on it or just downright ignoring them.

September, as it turns out, is also a nightmare for John. But he only figured that out today.

After his Bravo team finished training for the morning, John allowed them to hit the showers and he stayed behind to finish some work and talk with Soap.

As they enter the locker room, the rest of Bravo team is already in the communal showers, talking loudly amidst themselves and laughing, their voices echoing amidst the spraying of the showers over them.

John pops open his locker and starts shedding his workout kit, tossing it into his bag on the shelf. Soap isn’t far from him, a few lockers up, in the adjacent wall, his locker door having his name ‘MACTAVISH’ inside the clear plastic name tag holder, with a post-it naming him ‘F.N.G’ scotch taped below it.

John doesn’t need to pay much attention to know they’re talking about women, especially, the nurses from the nearby Tidworth base. All of them had gone through their check-ups in the last couple of days and, as is typical, they couldn’t keep their traps shut about the pretty women with soft hands doting all over them.

“Oh, mine bent over and pushed those tits of hers right up to my knee.” One of them said.

“Lucky bastard. I got a bloke.” Another replied.

Oh, how many times John had told them to be quiet and keep those sorts of talks to themselves when they were at the barracks, and not in public… But did those knobheads listen? No, never.

John grabbed his towel and 2-in-1 shampoo and bodywash and headed into the showers, taking up one of the vacant spots and drawing the curtain after hanging the curtain just outside his stall.

“I swear she was giving me the look… Definitely wants a piece of me.”

“No bird would want a piece of yer ugly mug.”

The lads continued talking as he let the water run over his body and began quickly lathering himself up with his 2-in-1, washing his hair and face aggressively before running his head under the falling shower water.

“I’m not devout, but this new batch’a nurses they got this year makes me a believer.”

“That’s right, brother.”

One-by-one they started vacating their stalls, still chatting loudly about their check-ups and the young women that treated them, lounging about the locker room and making each other laugh.

“But that arse of hers… I just know she’d bounce so well on my cock-”

“Oh that’s nothing. You didn’t see her last year before they changed the colour of the scrubs… That blue colour just… mmmmm…”

John finishes his shower not long after, wrapping his grey towel around his hip and tying it up to stay still. Then, he collects his 2-in-1 bottle from its perch atop the metal piping of the shower and starts making his way back.

That’s when he hears it:

“It’s no wonder the Captain’s peacockin’ himself around like that… I mean have you seen the size of her tits?”

John’s blood runs cold. They wouldn’t fucking dare. They wouldn’t talk about Kathleen. 

No. 

Not they. 

Him.

Sergeant Ellis Evans. 

One he’s always had problems reining in.

“Captain’s lucky is all I’ll say… Body like hers… Hell, even I’d forgive that bloody attitude of hers.”

The others laughed as Evans continued.

“I mean, I’m sure Kathleen’s mouth’s good for more than just talking… Gotta be good on her knees.. They call her ‘Brass’ for a reason, right? Bet she leaves ‘em with a nice polish and shine once she’s done.” 

That did it.

John rounded the corner into the locker room and, abruptly, the room fell into silence, breaths hitching and the temperature dropping into an uncomfortable ice.

But John didn’t stop walking at the doorway… In fact, he beelined right for Evans.

“Captain, I-” Evans immediately tried backtracking. “We were just joking, we were just-”

“Keep my wife’s name out your bloody mouth.” John grits at him through clenched teeth before he throws a right cross to Evans’ face.

-

It’s just past 7P.M. when Kathleen comes in through the front door. John has made dinner for them and little Charlotte is already asleep in her crib by the time she does.

She sets her bag down in the entrance, takes off her shoes, and pads over to the kitchen in search of John.

“Hi…” She greets him softly as she approaches the table, causing him to swivel on his chair to greet her, wrapping his arms around her waist. 

She presses a kiss to his mouth, which he returns. “Hi, Da’lin’.” He murmurs to her once they separate.

“Is she down?” She asks in a soft tone as she looks at him.

“Mhm… Full belly and empty diaper.” He tells her, which makes her smile softly, seeming relieved.

Kathleen feels exhausted, as usual, still not used to the work-life balance that comes from having a 4-month-old baby who doesn’t like to sleep + and a physically demanding job that runs on a 12-hour-shift schedule. 

John swivels back to his previous position, nursing a glass of whiskey with his left hand, the right one resting on the table, the knuckles covered by a blue gel ice pack.

“So that’s what happened...” Kathleen muses as she glances at his iced hand, before backing away to grab herself a plate of food from the cupboard.

“What is?” John murmurs as he glances at her, watching her serve herself of some frozen lasagna and salad.

“One of your lads ended up in my emergency room after some ‘roughhousing gone wrong in the locker room’... I was musing about what he did all afternoon.” She quips as she pads over to the table again again.

“Hm.” John mutters quietly, seemingly a mix of embarassed and annoyed at that fact.

“So what did he do?” She asks as she takes a seat on his lap, perched on his lap, as she pops a cherry tomato in her mouth.

“Talked about you.” John murmurs, wrapping his free arm around her waist. “Only I get to say debauching things about My Wife.” He grumbles as he looks up into her eyes.

Kathleen rolls her eyes at him and shakes her head, but she can’t help the smirk that takes over her rudy lips as he calls her ‘his wife’. “My, Mr. Price, defending my honour, huh?” She jokes as she pops a bit of lettuce in her mouth.

“Defending my honour… and yours by proxy. Just an unforeseen consequence of it.” He tells her, trying to act nonchalant about the fact he broke a man’s nose, eyesocket and three of his ribs, for demeaning his wife.

“Right… Of course… How stupid of me…” Kathleen teases as she leans toward him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, which makes his blue eyes close, a smile taking over his features. 

“As opposed to… what exactly? There isn’t much up there other than thoughts of my cock, da’lin’.” John remarks, causing her to roll her eyes, annoyed, and flick his head away from her by pushing his cheek, annoyed.

“I can very well just stop thinking about it all together… And I’m sure you wouldn��t want that when I was just about to reward you for defending me…” Kathleen teases as she pops another cherry tomato in her mouth, eyes locked on John and the way his pupils dilated, his cock already stirring awake in his joggers against her ass in her green scrubs.

[gummydummy19]

month five (September): early bird

Summary: Sy comes home early from tour

Warnings: none really, some tension, Sy comes back home :))

A/N: Sorry this took a while, it's exam season (again, yes I know, life as a European college student is rough) I also had some friends visit me from abroad, and well time has just been flying the fuck by so...apologies BUT wait no more, here it is :))

(this is part five to my series: A year in apartment 6B)

'H-Hello?' you picked up the call, trying to calm down your racing heart.

'Hi there,'

'Sy?!'

'That's the one.'

For some reason, it felt like you'd been caught. You swallowed thickly, prepared to give some kind of explanation as to why on earth you were wearing his boxers. And why did they have a wet patch, growing undeniably larger around your crotch?

'You there, Sugar?'

His deep voice shook you out of your initial panic and shot straight to your core. You realized then how much you had missed his voice, and as you realized that, you realized something else.

'I thought you weren't allowed to call from base?'

'Well, I'm not on base.'

'Then where the hell are you?'

You couldn't help the worry lacing around your words.

'Alright, I'm gonna need you to calm down...'

Those words did not help you calm down. In fact, they did the exact opposite.

'There was a...an incident...and,'

'Logan Henry Syverson, where THE HELL are you?!'

'Reed Army Medical Centre, DC.'

Your stomach dropped.

'M-medical Centre? Wait, did you say DC? You're in America? You're in a Medical Centre in America?'

You didn't even know what you were saying at this point. The words just flowed out of your mouth as they settled into your brain.

Medical Centre. In DC. He got sent back. He got hurt.

'I just wanted to let you know I'll be coming home early.' he said casually

'What...what happened?'

'Like I said, there was an incident at the base.'

You knew he wasn't gonna give you more than that. Not that you needed to hear the details. Besides, you don't think you could handle hearing it and you're sure Sy didn't need a replay of the events either.

'How bad are you hurt?' you asked, that's all you needed to know.

'I've been better but I've been worse.' he stated, 'Don't worry your pretty little head about me, I'm fine.'

'So how long do you have to stay there? And how long have you been there? Have you called your parents yet? Do you need me to call them? Can you have visitors, because I can-'

'Woah there, sugar. Don't forget to breathe.' He interrupted your ramble

'Sorry...' you apologized a little embarrassed, earning a small chuckle from him.

'I got out of surgery a couple hours ago. I need to stay here for a couple weeks. I called my parents before I went into surgery and my mother left a little while ago with Aika. She's gonna take care of her until I get discharged here and then she's gonna drop us off home. Oh and please don't you dare come all the way out here to DC, okay? It's not worth it I'm telling ya, sugar, I'll be home before you know it.'

Surgery???

'You brought, Aika?' you asked, deciding once again not to push it

'My leg was hanging on by a thread but I refused to get on the plane without her.' he joked

His leg. That's what he had surgery on.

You stayed quiet as you looked around the apartment, already thinking of ways to make moving around the place easier for Sy. Maybe you could move the couch a bit? Would he have crutches? or a wheelchair?

'I can hear you thinking through the phone, princess'

'hmm' you tried to play it off casually

'I'll be back soon, okay? Is the place growing mold yet?'

'Yeah, a little but don't worry it matches the burn marks in the kitchen.'

For the first time, you heard him let out a laugh. An actual, honest laugh.

You immediately wanted to hear it again.

'Alright, trouble. I gotta go, doc just walked in for a checkup. I'll see ya soon, okay?'

'Okay, call me if you need anything...'

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

As the days flew by, the nervous feeling in your stomach only grew. September had rolled around and that meant it was your fifth month of living in the apartment. The weather was getting gloomier and the days were getting shorter, it felt like time was flying faster and faster each day.

It had been a week since Sy's call. Part of you was relieved to know he was safe now, but another part was concerned.

Even though you got a text from him every day, you were none the wiser about his situation. He kept his messages short and sweet, mostly asking about you and always saying he's fine or 'doc said I'm making progress.'

Almost two weeks after his first call he called you again to tell you he needed follow-up surgery. You tried your hardest not to worry too much. Some days you didn't know what scared you more, Sy's situation or how much you cared about Sy's situation.

//

'Are you okay?!' You immediately spoke when you picked up the phone. It had been a week since Sy's follow-up surgery and you hadn't heard a single thing from him

'Hello to you too.' he spoke

'Would it have killed you to text me after surgery? I've spent an entire week planning your fucking funeral you fucking morron!'

'I'm sorry sugar, I'm fine, I promise. Ma stopped by a couple times and I slept through half the week' He assured you, 'I got some good news...I'm coming home tomorrow'

'Tomorrow?!' You thought back about the mess you dared to call your apartment.

'Yeah...is that okay?'

'O-ofcourse! Yeah, totally!'

'I gotta keep my cast on for another five weeks but aside from that I'm good to go.'

While Sy continued with his small talk you silently grabbed your calendar from your desk, marking October 23rd, the date exactly 5 weeks from now...

After work, you raced home to clean everything for the 4th time in 6 days and rearranged the furniture just to put it back where it started (twice). Christ, it felt like you were preparing for the damn pope to visit.

You even stopped by the store to buy a toy for Aika, praying to god she'd like it.

By the end of the night, you were utterly exhausted, pouring yourself a generous glass of wine to ease the nerves as you crawled on the couch, barely staying awake long enough to figure out what movie you were watching...

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

'Sugar?'

'...hmm?' your brain slowly but surely stirred awake.

You barely got your eyes open before having to screw them shut again as a big wet nose nudged yours, warm tongue licking your cheek happily.

'Aika!' Sy growled out, trying to pull her back a little.

Sy. SY?!

Your eyes shot open again. There he was. Peering down at you. Maybe it was the sleepiness or the way he was standing there looking down at you, but fuck, he looked good. You'd think a near-death experience would take it out of you, huh?

'You're home!' you sat up quickly, the fluffy blanket dropping onto your lap.

'Morning, trouble. Why are you sleeping on the couch?' He asked 'Please don't tell me you have rats in your room or something...'

Your tired brain was starting to take in your surroundings. You felt like the human version of a Windows 8.

'I-I'm...uh...No, I was cleaning up last night and I guess I just...dozed off...' you explained 'I'm so sorry, Sy. I didn't know you'd be home this early, what time is it?'

Sy smiled down at you as Aika slowly sniffed your leg. 'Don't worry, Sugar. You didn't have to go through all that trouble, the place is damn spotless.' he complimented. 'And it's 8AM. I wasn't planning on coming this early but my Ma liked to go to the farmers market on Saturday morning, so I told her she could drop me off before she went.'

'Oh crap, your mom! She didn't see me drooling all over the couch did she?!'

And there it was again, his dashing smile.

'No don't worry, she dropped me off downstairs.'

You nodded at his words and a comfortable silence filled the room. Your eyes roamed his body again. He was wearing a shirt and some loose sweats. The pants covered his legs, but you could still tell there was a cast going from his left knee to his foot and you finally noticed he was holding a crutch.

Suddenly feeling incredibly rude and a tad embarrassed, you stood up.

'Oh shit, sorry! Sit down, please! Do you need anything?'

Sy had a stern look on his face, you thought you may have offended him in some way before you realized his gaze was aimed directly at your breasts, which you just noticed were only covered by a very thin tank top, leaving little to the imagination.

You felt your face getting red before Aika nudged her head against your hand, desperately begging for some much-needed attention.

'Hi there,' you smiled at her, petting her head 'So you're the famous Aika, huh?' you said, trying to ignore Sy's stare and the way it made you blush like a schoolgirl.

'Oh, I almost forgot! I got her something! Wait there...' you said as you quickly ran off to grab the toy you bought her from your room.

When you got back, Aika immediately took the toy from you, trotting around the couch with pride.

'Thanks, you really shouldn't have,' Sy said with a warm smile

You felt a sudden urge to wrap your arms around him. You wanted to hold him, tell him he was safe now, and say you'd care for him.

Part of you had hoped your slightly inappropriate thoughts about Sy would come to an end once he got home. But seeing him stand right in front of you had your mind clouding with snippets from your dreams all over again.

'I wanted to make her feel at home,' you said, 'Like you did when I first moved in.'

You kept your voice quiet, afraid he'd hear the tremble in it if you spoke any louder.

'Well, I hardly did anything special.' Sy stated, moving a bit closer to you 'And I definitely didn't buy you any toys...'

You snorted at that.

'Well, maybe that's something you should consider then.' you teased, taking couple steps back, 'I'm gonna go take a shower, I'll make some breakfast when I'm out, sound good?'

'Sounds perfect, Sugar.'

And just like that, Sy was home.

Taglist;

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A/N: OOoohhh I am so so so so soooo happy Sy is home I can't wait to show you guys what fun stuff I have planned for these roomies hehe. I hope you enjoyed, as always feedback is welcome and like/shares/comments are highly appreciated <3

[nevertheless-moving]

stormlight au number 35 (help me i'm lost in the sauce)

Jasnah, Dalinar, and Renarin (surviving Kholin Radiants) travel from End of World all the way to right after Gavilar's death.

Vengeance pact still happens, but plays out very differently. We don't need absolutely every man in the kingdom to join the army, alright Elhokar? And we're making sure Dalinar is there to accept their surrender, actually win in reasonable time frame and 'conquer' them (no Alethi want to live out there anyway, and as long as they send gemhearts in tribute we won't enslave them. actually elhokar, your sister wanted to talk to you about slavery—).

Honestly, just an excuse for:

A) Adolin to have a breakdown that his entire family has been replaced by voidbringers, before eventually accepting with relief that they're still his family, they've just become voidbringers, but its ok because he loves them and will protect their increasingly heretical actions with his life. Hugs his glowing red and green eyed little brother a lot.

Adolin: do I — should I also learn to read?

Jasnah: do you want to?

Adolin: not really, no.

Renarin: to be honest, it's probably for the best if you just focus on being, well, a good Vorin Alethi. One of us probably should be, if we don't have a desolation as a distraction.

Adolin: ok! sure! I can do that. Also thought id mention that if possible, I would personally appreciate *not* having a desolation.

Jasnah: it may prove necessary.

Adolin: I know, i know. Just thought I'd put my feelings out there.

Dalinar: and we'll need you to produce Kholin heirs. Neither Renarin or Jasnah are likely to, and I'm not remarrying a younger woman.

Adolin: Sounds good!

B) Kholin family to have way too strong a reaction to this random darkeyed surgeon in training when they visit Kharbranth, scaring the absolute shit out of said darkeyed surgeon. Adolin walks into a wall when he sees Kaladin. He doesn't even know about the Radiant thing, it's just that

C) Kaladin dresses really hot in this au. Ok. I lied. this is actually the main reason for this au. It — there's a whole chain of events. I – don't look at me like that. The character development works, alright?

A lot of it boils down to distracting people from groping the female medical trainees.

He realizes that breathing in a certain way, while it makes you focus better and move faster, it also makes you more...present somehow? people pay attention to you, for better or worse. Some of the ladies teach him that there are different ways to channel people's focus on you, if they're looking anyway.

And apparently, for the first few years Kharbranth medical students, light and dark eyed alike, have basically no protections from wealthy patients or Lighteyed chief's of staff who are a bit too interested in teaching you to use your safehand, and its not like Kaladin can challenge them to a duel - he doesnt know how to fight, and it would get him and the person hes trying to protect kicked out of the program. So much for honorable lighteyes being real.

But I mean. If wearing some eyeliner, and a gemstone in your hair, if taking your right glove off first after an exam, conspicuously leaving the left on while talking, if bending over to pick his clipboard up in a certain way... if it gets people to not focus on his friends...

...one could probably get pretty angsty with this concept, ngl.

The Stormlight understanding and oaths come in time. There might also be some Radiant Disguise Superhero hijinks, havent fully decided but it's not really a major stretch from canon to say that Kharbranth struggles with violent crime. Also Kaladin gets to learn about institutional racism in school. It's great. I have a lot of Kaladin thoughts but so does everyone in this au so its ok.

Kholins visit Kharbranth:

Jasnah: you've been moping for days. Is your new fixation of the week not responding to your advances?

Adolin: I don't want to talk about it

Dalinar: son, you've clearly been in a mood—

Adolin: look, I'm not — the individual is not suitable for my station, alright? I'm not courting someone I could never actually marry, because that would be stupid.

Jasnah: while it would complicate matters, you know your brother and I have plans to alter the alethi codes around eye color, considering they're clearly a crude derivative of radiant mythologization

Dalinar: I thought we agreed that was low on the priority list

Jasnah: You said that uncle, Renarin most certainly did not agree, and his arguments are sound

Adolin: He's just some surgeon, alright! He's not just darkeyed, he's a darkeyed man. I said I'll get over it! I always do.

Dalinar: ah.

Jasnah: ...did you say surgeon?

Adolin: Yes? Why?

Dalinar: why does it —

Jasnah: how did you meet?

Adolin: He was — he was with this group of women at a winebar, and he was dressed like – but it turned out he just goes to protect them from - and it was so — why are you asking me about this?

Dalinar: Oh! A darkeyed surgeon. Protecting, you say? He sounds...honorable.

Jasnah: Very honorable.

Adolin: He is! He volunteers at this house for injured soldiers, and you wouldn't believe he'd never been to war, I mean his spear Katas — he's – it's like he was born for it —

Dalinar: He sounds like a fine young man. Perhaps you should bring him to meet us.

Adolin: I — while I appreciate that father, I really do, I thought I was the one who was supposed to well. I mean my role in...all of this is to produce heirs and look proper, right?

Jasnah: Hm. when you put it it that way...

Dalinar: I mean, Navani and I might be able to...

Jasnah: Don't be ridiculous. I'm perfectly capable of producing a child, should it prove absolutely necessary,

Adolin: Jasnah?

Jasnah: Provided the man you're courting is of worthy quality.

Adolin: We're not — I haven't been courting! I didn't think it was an option! I don't even know if he's interested! From what I can tell he has people throwing themselves at his feet all the time!

Jasnah: An abnormally honorable darkeyed surgeon, natural warrior, magnetically charismatic personality...yes that might make a worthwhile addition to the family.

Dalinar: I can write to Elhokar at once, recommend that he and Aseuden —

Jasnah: Uncle we've been over this — this is exactly the sort of thing that led to me insisting you come with me on this trip! If we cripple his ability to lead—

Adolin: Are we — are we moving into the discussing the future part of the evening, because I can go guard the door—

Dalinar: wait, when you say produce a child, you don't mean through soulcasting, right?

Jasnah: I don't see why I should answer that question.

Adolin: Yeah, i'm just going to go guard the door now

[hooked-on-elvis]

Official publicity photos during the army. Friday, October 3, 1958, Elvis at Ray Barracks in Friedberg, Germany. Elvis had arrived in Germany on the morning of October 1st.

The newspapers had been reporting that Presley was initially assigned to join the crew of a medium Patton tank. However, before Elvis arrived in Germany, he said his last assignment had been driving a truck for four weeks in Fort Hood. The army announced the new assignment was made after reviewing Presley’s military tests and records, and an interview with his company commander. This is the reason why on October 3 Elvis first posed with the Company D sign for publicity photos, but just a few days later was photographed with the Headquarters sign.

“The assignment of scout jeep driver is given to soldiers of above normal capability,” an army official explained. “The soldier must be able to work on his own, map-read and draw sketches, know tactics and recognize the enemy and enemy weapons.” A rumor started circulating that Elvis was transferred due to a perforated eardrum which meant he had to avoid loud noises of artillery fire. “That rumor didn’t make much sense to me,” Lt. Taylor commented. “It’s implausible that the army medical exam system had failed to detect such an ear problem long before Elvis was assigned to a tank company.” During the day, Elvis was driving jeep “HQ31” for the Master Sergeant of a scout platoon, Ira Jones from Arkansas, who had served in World War II and the Korean War and was a Purple Heart recipient. However, Presley was not just a jeep driver. According to Jones, each scout “was trained to operate in enemy territory with or without vehicles.” The scout platoons were the first ones who would see the enemy in combat. As a result, Jones was quite impressed that Elvis did not try to get out of his assigned position to serve in the field with his Reconnaissance Platoon. “As time passed, Elvis became our friend and we hoped that he would stay with us,” recalled Sgt. Jones. “We could count on him to be a member of the team… By the time Elvis had been with us six or seven weeks, we were confident that he was going to succeed in the U.S. Army.”

Excerpt from "Elvis: The Army Years Uncovered · Behind The Scenes Of The Two Years That Changed The King Of Rock 'n' Roll's Life" by Trina Young (2021)

Official publicity photos during the army. Friday, October 3, 1958, Elvis at Ray Barracks in Friedberg, Germany.

[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for...

~*~

1. ITMF a fic where the Lans or the neis or the cultivation world in general find out about the abuse wwx takes at jiang sect and the other sects trying to help him @zerokogane

Warming up (to him) by barisan (T, 9k, LQR & WWX, WangXian, Hypothermia, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Temporary Character Death, Medical Inaccuracies, YZY Abuses WWX, JFM Bashing, pre-wangxian, Good Uncle LQR, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort) I have recommendations for the 1st one where Lan Qiren steps in!

Rediscovery, Reconstruction by ExtraPenguin (M, 27k, JFM/WWX, LQR & WWX, WWX/OC(s), rape/non-con, underage, Childhood Sexual Abuse, Rape Recovery, bildungsroman, Self-Discovery) tw for csa and rape, this one makes the abuse even worse but it's a wonderful fic about Lan Qiren stepping in to save Wei Wuxian (also has wwx/original character)

Blooming Bruises on my Soul and Body by xxxMiaHikarixxx (T, 13k, WangXian, Living on Streets, psychological abuse, WWX being a protective brother, JC being a protective brother, Good brother JC, Good brother LXC, Happy Ending, Angst With Some Comfort, Physical Abuse, Neglect, LXC is a Wangxian supporter, LWJ is whipped, Hate Crimes, multiple POVs)

🔒💙 Holding shreds by barisan (T, 5k, WangXian, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, No Sunshot Campaign, Body Swap, Not for sexy shenanigans, Chronic Pain, Hurt WWX, Hurt LWJ, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Abusive YZY, Bad Parent YZY,  Bad Parent JFM, Good Uncle LQR, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Inaccuracies, POV WWX, Angst with a Happy Ending, Jiāng Family Bashing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Getting Together, Smart WWX)

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2. Hi! Now that I finished my exams 😭, I'm ready to read a lot of new Wangxian fics! ❤️

So, for the next ITMF, I was thinking in fics about:

A) The Lans (LQ, LXC, LWJ or any Lan) looking for WWX in the burial mounds after he saved the Wens, bc they need his help. And then the Lans decided to help WWX after watching the truth.

B) Or the Lans visiting WWX bc LWJ said WWX didn't have any army and when they understand the truth, they decided to help WWX and the Wens.

Plus if there is a Wangxian weeding 😍. Please happy ending in both cases. 🙏

Thank you so much!! Love this blog 🤗💜

@wangxiansgirl

2A)

Weep You No More, Sad Fountains by athena_crikey (T, 59k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Fix-it fic, Whump, Curses, Fever, Delirium, Stabbing, Loneliness, Confessions, LXC realising sympathy is not support, LQR Being an Asshole)

2B)

Discordant Rhapsody by nirejseki (T, 49k, LQR & WWX, wangxian, JC & WWX, WQ & WWX & WN, LWJ & LQR & LXC, canon divergence, fix-it, hurt/comfort, trauma, politics, protective LQR, protective LWJ, protective WWX, LQR centric, whump, angst)

🔒 the thread may stretch or tangle but it will never break by RoseThorne (E, 91k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Soulmates, Self-Esteem Issues, Fix-It, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, PTSD, Handfasting, Panic Attacks, Getting Together, First Time, Aftercare, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, /Referenced Torture, Scars, Chronic Pain, Golden Core Reveal, First Time, Switching, sex-related injury, LWJ Stays at the Burial Mounds, LSZ is a Wèi, Good Sibling JC, Dissociation, Burial Mounds Settlement Days)

~*~

3. hii! i hope you guys are doing well <3! I've been in a nhs mood, and I was wondering if you have any recs with nhs and wwx friendship, fix it, canon, anything works! i read the one in your last itmf i think, and I'm just craving more of those two! thank you in advance! @flexible-racoon

~*~

4. ITMF a dead dove focusing on CQL nieyao's age gap @crypticidentity

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5. Itmf canon-compliant ish fics (not modern setting) where the first thing Wei Wuxian does after coming back from the dead is run straight to Lan Zhan? Thank you!

~*~

6. HIII is there any good arranged married Wwx and Lwj? Or maybe they're married fr and they have A-yuan as their son? @naoenowa

True Gold Fears No Fire by defractum (nyargles) (M, 69k, WIP, WangXian,  Royalty AU, Ancient China, Wuxia, Historical Inaccuracy, Arranged Marriage, Identity Porn, Mutual Pining, Emperor!LWJ, empress!wwx, Eventual Happy Ending, Misunderstandings)

Into the Oubliette by Ruixx (M, 124k, WIP, WangXian, Growing Up, Fix-It of Sorts, Arranged Marriage, Time Travel, Sibling Bonding, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Canon Divergence, Light BDSM, Breathplay, Wwx protection squad, Sunshot Campaign, War Politics, Hostage JYL, Visions, LXC Redemption, general lwj, Internal Sect, Politics, Good Uncle LQR, Lan OC’s, No Golden Core Transfer, Empire Building)

🧡 hypothetically, of course by johnnyfucksup (G, 22k, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Character Study, Kinda, Inter-sect politics, a little bit, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Strangers to Lovers, Getting to Know Each Other, Falling In Love, The Mortifying Ordeal of Falling In Love With Your Betrothed, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Love Confessions, very awkward ones at that, Slow Burn Speedrun)

A Wonderful (business) Arrangement by Orchidaisy_55 (E, 58k, wangxian, JC/NHS, LXC/JGY, JYL/JZX, Arranged Marriage, Modern, A/B/O, True Love, First Love, Mpreg, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Domestic Fluff, WWX is LSZ's Parent, mentions of miscarrage, Anal Sex, secondary sex characteristics, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Unplanned Pregnancy)

The Ties That Bind by silverclaw (G, 43k, wangxian, A/B/O, Arranged Marriage, Modern, Alpha WWX, Omega LWJ, past toxic relationship, Slow Burn, husbandiest of husband material WWX, mention of mpreg in relation to side-character, hurt LWJ, WWX falls first AND harder, No Smut)

After I Met You by Amandyalmonds (M, 78k, wangxian, Dragon LWJ, Fox Spirit WWX, Canon Divergence, Royalty AU, Slow Burn, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Madam Yu's A+ Parenting, Protective WQ, Protective LWJ, Canon-Typical Violence, Unreliable Narrator WWX, Arranged Marriage, Miscommunication, Autistic LWJ, WIP)

Cultivator Lan's Wedding by squishh (Not Rated, 14k, wangxian, LXC/QS, Arranged Marriage, hidden identity, Nobleman Ryu's Wedding AU, slightly more based in historical reality, still xianxia tho, Wife swap, Slow Burn, Bisexual WWX, Demisexual LWJ, No War AU, No Yīn Iron, WWX's canonical backstory - mostly, YZY is slightly less abusive, still abusive tho, JYL not engaged to JZX, Canon-Typical Violence, No homophobia as a form of self-care to the author, Happy Ending, JC and WWX have a much better relationship here, POV Alternating, POV LWJ, POV WWX, Crossdressing, Historical Fantasy, WIP)

🔒 it's just a little white lie by MohnDoe (T, 1k, wangxian, Inspired by a Reddit Post, Modern Setting, Arranged Marriage, WIP)

Not Lost, Just Undiscovered by anancites (E, 107k, wangxian, Modern, Arranged Marriage, Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Angst, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Idiots in Love, Mildly Dubious Consent)

~*~

7. Fics which go with the lyrics: " These days, I'm way too lonely

I'm missing out, I know

These days, I'm way too alone And I'm known for giving love away, but

I want someone who love me

I need someone who needs me

'Cause it don't feel right when it's late at night

And it's just me in my dreams So I want someone to love, that's what I fucking want "

Song: that's what I want, by Lil nas x

All the ways that you remain by Spodumene (G, 23k, WangXian, Modern AU, Canada, Romance, First Meetings, Cottagecore, There Was Only One Bed, Mention of Parent Death, Getting Together)

~*~

8. itmf fics where wwx hurts lwj (emotionally or physically)

Over the Rotted Bridge by vailkagami (T, 314k, WangXian, Temporary Character Death, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, LWJ dies, Wei Wuxian doesn’t die, neither do (most of) the wens, JYL also lives, Original Character(s), outside pov, YLLZ WWX, Canon Divergence, CQL Verse, Illustrated, Grief/Mourning, Non-Consensual Resurrection, mute LWJ, Hurt LWJ, Slow Burn, canonical death of a child (mentioned), Survivor Guilt, PTSD)

~*~

9. ITMF heavy angst BUT I don't want it to be whump

Twin Demons of Mò by XiaoFeiFei (ArfBarkWoof) (M, 358k, MXY & WWX, wangxian, JL & MXY, XY & MXY, JGY & MXY, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Injury, Abuse, Death, Twin Demons of Mo AU, MXY Lives, Major Character Injury, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Minor Character Death, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death, Minor Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Torture, Near Death, Near Death Experiences, Canon Divergence, Self-Harm, Found Family, Sexual Abuse, Rape/Non-con Elements, POV Alternating)

~*~

10. ITMF a fic where wwx died in the past and then lwj waits for him to reincarnate and lives into the modern world where they meet again but wwx doesn't remember until later (or its fine if he remembers too )

based on a photo on Pinterest whose link ill paste cos I can't attach photos for some reason in the ask

Thanks again! Ly guys! @maurader--here

All Old Things are New Again by The Feels Whale (miscellea) (M, 51k, WangXian, XuanLi, ChengQing, Reincarnation, Modern AU, canon still happened, extreme post canon, Sugar Daddy, Kink Negotiation, gentle dom!LWJ, canonical levels of consent play, Modern Cultivators)

the recluse at the end of the moonlit path by beesinspades (T, 28k, WangXian, Modern AU, Reincarnation, Post-Canon, Jack of All Trades Artist WWX, Immortal! LWJ, Mutual Pining, Light Angst, Reunions, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Asexual Character, good vibes, [Podfic] the recluse at the end of the moonlit path by b_ofdale by Beria1021)

🧡 We Were Never Strangers by NeverEnoughWangxian (M, 36k, WangXian, Reincarnation, Modern AU, POV WWX, (mostly), College Student WWX, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Immortal LWJ, Immortal LSZ, Dreams, Pining, Sharing a Bed, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Sexual Tension, Sexual Content)

~*~

11. Hello! Any fics where LWJ is shown to bond with animals?

No specific animal, just that it treats LWJ a bit specially or listens to him etc.

Thank you for your work!

in the arms of the angel by ScarlettStorm (E, 37k, WangXian, Modern AU with Magic, Fox WWX, animal rescuer LWJ, Comedy, Smut, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Adhd WWX, the mortifying ordeal of getting your head stuck in a peanut butter jar) it sort of fits bc lwj is in animal rescue & has some powers to make the animals feel calm & safe!

Lan Zhan's University Days (JAFFY) by sami (T, 10k, WangXian, Modern AU, Kinda, cultivated to immortality, University, outsider pov, Wei Wuxian is a chaos gremlin, ridiculous future bullshit wwx vs Local Culture) Sami's Lan Zhan's University Days from ridiculous future bull series. The cows in the farm and in later rfb glimpses with various baby animals

~*~

12. IMTF: I recently finished the WIP “Horseshoes and Hand Grenades” by Phantomhill which was amazing and hilarious. I’m now itmf any fics with the same premise of bringing the original Yiling Patriarch forward into the modern era, preferably without relying on reincarnation for the other characters. Any ships acceptable except self-insert. Thanks! @jensownzoo

结局难更改 (the ending is hard to change) Series by PorcupineGirl (G, 50k, WangXian, Time Travel, Modern with Magic, Modern Cultivators AU, Canon Divergence, Time Traveler WWX, discussion of canonical character deaths, conveniently localized fires, Discussion of Canonical Suicide Attempt, mostly happy but slightly bittersweet ending, Reincarnation, LWJ POV, Established Relationship, Aromantic JC) might fit as it involves WWX ending up in the future instead of falling to his death

~*~

13. Hello all, sorry if this ask is too explicit 😳

I’m looking for fics where Wei Wuxian has a small penis and Lan Wangji has a big one 🍆

Love me some size difference

Thanx in advance

The Damage You Do by stiricide (E, 104k, WIP, WangXian, Modern AU, Dom/Sub, Dark LWJ, Mobster LWJ, Possessive LWJ, Sex Worker WWX, Sugar Baby WWX, WWX adopts LSZ, Dubious Consent, each chapter has sex tag notes on it, BDSM, Sounding, Panic Attacks, Angst with a Happy Ending)

~*~

14. Do you have Yunmeng bros reconciliation fics that have reverse golden core reveals (wwx finding out about jc getting captured in his place). Angst is fine :)

Thank you!!!! &lt;;3 @twlaei

~*~

15. For the next ITMF can i get fics where LZ plays their song before an audience while wy watches speechless? It could be a recital, it could be a party, it could be a wedding...it just has to have lz playing his heart out for WY while an audience is present.

LZ could be singing or playing any instruments like violin, guqin, piano etc.

For example, drag my teeth across your chest (by ana_cp) - violin. // last part in a FF post ~Mod L @imstillthinkingaboutithmm

Talisman by Witch_Nova221 (M, 192k, WangXian, Modern AU, Eventual Romance, Theatre, Rock Band, Childhood Friends, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Spousal Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Stalking, Minor Character Death, Friends to Lovers, Orphans, Mutual Pining)

~*~

16. ITMF for...

Fics when either WangXian or any other pairing (bonus if it's a rarepair or the Juniors are involved) are discovered by someone walking in on them? Even more bonus if WangXian are together and it's them walking in on someone! Thank you! @fomalhaut48

I spy by Anonymous (E, 9k, wangxian, Voyeurism, Masturbation, Rough Sex, of the wangxian kind, Pseudo-Incest, is it uuuuh incest if one spies on their adoptive parents, the juniors get more than they bargained for, Blow Jobs, Face-Fucking)

Countless Roads by SunBlueSun (E, 5k, wangxian, Accidental Voyeurism, Switching, Versatile | Switch Wangxian, Porn with Feelings, Minor Original Character(s), Love, hanguang jun has flowers in his hair, POV Outsider)

Friends with Great Benefits by FrameofMind, Jo Lasalle (Jo_Lasalle) (E, 15k, wangxian, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, First Time, virgins, Voyeurism, Accidental Voyeurism, Semi-accidental voyeurism, WWX's canonical heteronormative assumptions, cutsleeve awakenings, Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, (it depends on who you ask))

a new light by museaway (T, 2k, wangxian, Accidental Voyeurism, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, POV Outsider, Canon Compliant)

~*~

17. Itmf wwx is in a slump, depressed, burnt out, breaking down, etc and lwj swoops in with tender loving care to pull him from his slump.

12 Hours In Hell and Paradise (Or: Lan Zhan’s Distinguished Guide to Seasonal Depression) by demonicsalad (T, 4k, wangxian, Modern, Friends to Lovers, Developing Relationship, Mental Health Issues, Neurodiversity, Love Confessions, POV LWJ) Not quite what OP on 17 asked for, it's from LWJ's pov and primarily his struggles, but it is cute fic about both sides of WX battling seasonal depression and comforting each other

总有一天; a place to hide (can’t find one near) by yiqie (E, 76k, WangXian, Modern AU, Pianist, Getting Together, Mental Health Issues, Suicide Attempt, Suicidal Thoughts, Depression, Hospitals, Overdosing, Eventual Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Additional Warnings In Author's Note)

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

[newspatron]

Conquer the Battlefield: Your Ultimate Guide to NDA Exams

Unleash your inner warrior! Share your NDA exam dreams, questions, and tips in the comments below!

Step onto the Battlefield of Dreams: Cracking the NDA Exam with Confidence Ever dreamt of donning the olive green, of soaring amidst the clouds, or commanding the vast canvas of the ocean? The National Defence Academy ( NDA exam ) could be your gateway to transforming these dreams into reality. But conquering this coveted path demands not just unwavering ambition, but also a strategic roadmap…

[girlactionfigure]

Chiune Sugihara was a Japanese diplomat in Lithuania who put his family and career at risk by issuing thousands of hand-written transit visas to Jewish refugees fleeing Eastern Europe.

Chiune was born to a middle class family in Mino, Japan on the first day of the 20th century – 1/1/00. In elementary and high school he was a top student, and his father wanted him to become a doctor. Chiune’s own dream was to enter the foreign service, and he deliberately failed the medical school entrance exam by writing only his name on the test. Instead Chiune attended Waseda University and majored in English. He also joined a Christian fraternity to practice his English.

In 1919, Chiune passed the Foreign Ministry Scholarship exam, and served in the Japanese Imperial Army as a 2nd Lieutenant stationed in Korea. He resigned his commission in 1922 and trained for the Foreign Ministry, learning Russian and German in addition to English. He aced the qualifying exam and was sent to work in the foreign office in Harbin, China.

Chiune’s strong moral compass led him to resign his post as Deputy Foreign Minister in Manchuria because of rising Japanese violence against the Chinese (just two years later was the horrific Rape of Nanking by the Japanese Imperial Army.) Chiune returned to Japan, where he married Yukiko Kikuchi. They later had four sons.

Next Chiune went to Helsinki, Finland, where he worked as a translator for the Japanese delegation. In 1939, Chiune became vice-consul of the Japanese embassy in Kauna, Lithuania. Part of his job was to find out if Germany planned to attack the Soviet Union, and to relay any information about this to his bosses in Berlin and Tokyo.

In 1940, the Soviet Union occupied Lithuania. At that time, approximately 1/3 of Lithuanians were Jewish, many of them Torah scholars. The USSR viciously persecuted Jews, especially religious ones, and the Jews of Lithuania were desperate to escape the country – especially because Nazi Germany was occupying more and more of Eastern Europe and would soon be in Lithuania. Hundreds of them, mostly Orthodox, visited the Japanese consulate to beg for exit visas to Japan. The official Japanese policy was that candidates for visas must go through elaborate bureaucratic procedures and pay significant sums of money. Chiune contacted his superiors at the Japanese Foreign minister to ask if the rules could be relaxed to help Jewish refugees. His request was denied, as were his next two requests.

Chiune could have thrown up his hands and told the Jews there was nothing he could do for them, but instead, as he did in China, he was governed by his strong sense of right and wrong, rather than soulless bureaucrats. He ignored his orders and started issuing ten-day visas for Jews to travel through Japan on their way to safe havens like Shanghai, China, where 20,000 Jews rode out the war safely.

As word got out about the Japanese visas, Jews from all over Lithuania as well as Poland began to swarm Chiune’s office. He simply wouldn’t say no to anybody, and spent 18-20 hours a day (!) painstakingly writing visas by hand. He created a month’s supply of visas every single day from August to early September 1940, providing an escape route for thousands of Jews. On September 4, the Japanese consulate in Kauna was closed and Chiune had to leave the country. He was determined to create as many transit visas as possible, and continued doing so up until the last minute. At Kanuas Railway Station, a crowd of Jews gathered to say goodbye. Right before boarding the train, Chiune bowed deeply and cried out, “Please forgive me! I cannot write anymore. I wish you the best!” Someone in the crowd shouted, “Sugihara! We’ll never forget you! I’ll surely see you again!”

Chiune was reassigned to East Prussia, then Prague, and then Bucharest, Romania. When the Soviet Union occupied Lithuania in 1944, Chiune and his family were imprisoned in a POW camp for a year and a half. Finally they were released in 1946 and returned to Japan, but the foreign office had heard about his unauthorized visas, and he was forced to resign. At about this time, the Sugihara’s youngest son died of leukemia at age seven.

Unemployable in Japan, Chiune made use of his excellent Russian language skills and spent the next 16 years working in the Soviet Union while his wife and sons stayed in Japan. Chiune’s exceptional heroism was unknown for many years, until 1968, when he was contacted by Yehoshua Nishri, an attache working at the Israeli consulate in Tokyo. Nishri spent his youth in Poland, and heard stories of the legendary Japanese hero. Nishri made it his mission to publicize Chiune’s heroic acts, and the next year, 1969, Chiune traveled to Israel as an honored guest of the Israeli government. Jews he’d saved lobbied for him to be recognized as Righteous Among the Nations by Israeli Holocaust Memorial Yad Vashem, and in 1984 he received the honor. At that time he was too sick to travel, so his wife and son Nobuki accepted the award on his behalf.

Chiune was asked why he risked everything to help thousands of strangers. He answered, “You want to know about my motivation, don’t you? Well. It is the kind of sentiments anyone would have when he actually sees refugees face to face, begging with tears in their eyes. He just cannot help but sympathize with them. Among the refugees were the elderly and women. They were so desperate that they went so far as to kiss my shoes. Yes, I actually witnessed such scenes with my own eyes. Also, I felt at that time, that the Japanese government did not have any uniform opinion in Tokyo. Some Japanese military leaders were just scared because of the pressure from the Nazis; while other officials in the Home Ministry were simply ambivalent. People in Tokyo were not united. I felt it silly to deal with them. So, I made up my mind not to wait for their reply. I knew that somebody would surely complain about me in the future. But, I myself thought this would be the right thing to do. There is nothing wrong in saving many people’s lives… The spirit of humanity, philanthropy… neighborly friendship… with this spirit, I ventured to do what I did, confronting this most difficult situation – and because of this reason, I went ahead with redoubled courage.”

Chiune Sugihara died in Japan on July 31, 1986. Despite being a hero in Israel, and among Jews worldwide, he was completely unknown in his own country. Even his own children didn’t know what he had done. A huge delegation from around the world attended Chiune’s funeral, and only then did he become known in Japan.

Chiune received many awards and accolades, most of them posthumous. Among them are Sugihara Streets in Vilna, Lithuania, and Jaffa and Netanya in Israel. There is a Sugihara House Museum in Kaunas, and a park in Vilna where 200 trees were planted on his 100th birthday. There is a life-sized statue of him in Little Tokyo in Los Angeles, featuring a plaque with a quotation from the Talmud, “He who saves one life, saves an entire world.” In 1998, Chiune’s widow Yukiko traveled to Israel and was warmly received by survivors who’d been saved by her husband. There is a Sugihara park in Jerusalem, and he was featured on an Israeli postage stamp in 1998. The Lithuanian government declared 2020 “The Year of Chiune Sugihara.” He has been the subject of multiple works of art, including books, films and a play.

It’s estimated that over 100,000 people are alive today because of the brave actions of Chiune Sugihara.

[freesia-writes]

accidental first kiss with Rexy-boy!! god I love that man with my whole heart! (Ps, this request is from @snippy-tano, this is just my main blog)

Yayyy @snippy-tano -- Here ya go! <3

Rex x GN!Reader Word Count: 1.3k

Amidst the bustling corridors of the Republic starcruiser, you were going about your duties in the med bay, tending to injured soldiers as the Clone Wars raged on. The constant influx of casualties was a grim reminder of the galaxy's turmoil. As a medic, you had become accustomed to the chaos of the war, yet it was the healing and saving lives that gave you purpose and perseverance. 

One day as you worked diligently, a familiar authoritative voice disrupted the typical clamor as a few orderlies accompanied the new arrivals. Captain Rex, the steadfast leader of the 501st, had been brought in with a minor injury. The proximity of such an iconic figure in the Grand Army of the Republic gave the room an electric charge, and it wasn't just from the buzzing medical equipment. Your position as medic had allowed you a variety of encounters with the clones, and there was one who had always stood out to you. Not that you’d ever expect him to actually notice you, considering his position and yours, but the short conversations you’d enjoyed had always been laced with a surprising depth that drew you to him like a magnet.

"Captain Rex," you acknowledged him, your voice maintaining a professional tone while your heart raced. His handsome face was marred by a jagged cut from his eyebrow to his hairline, dark with dried blood. "What happened this time?"

Rex offered a half-grin, a mix of pain and amusement in his eyes as he answered, "I think a clanker was trying to kiss me." His tone was playful, but his words brought immediate *thoughts* to mind, and you pulled the flimsy curtain closed behind you as he sat on the exam table, muttering “I don’t blame it,” under your breath.

There wasn’t any way to stand in front of him that didn’t feel awkward; you didn’t want to put one of your legs between his, so you shuffled to the side to lean over his head, which was just below yours in his seated position. You swallowed as you tried to remain nonchalant, reaching a hand to his chin to gently tilt it upward for a proper assessment. Maker, his amber eyes reflected every light in the room, and you found yourself lost in them for a split second before jerking your gaze back to his head. You left your fingers on his jaw and placed the other hand on the side of his head, his blond hair bristling beneath your palm. 

"You're fortunate it wasn't more severe," you commented, seeking anything to discuss to take your mind off of his proximity… his quiet gentleness… his broad shoulders... You cleared your throat, “You could have lost an eye.” 

Rex's gaze was unwavering, filled with respect for your dedication and an unspoken admiration that ran deeper; it was something he had held for a while as he watched you go above and beyond in your care for the endless stream of injured troopers. He chuckled softly, the sound resonating in the small space. "Yeah, I suppose I am. But if it gives me a little time to… ah… hang out here… then it’s not all that bad.”

The compliment caught you off guard, and you couldn't help but blush slightly as you began to clean the wound with delicate hands. The war had left little room for such conversations, and this unexpected exchange felt like a breath of fresh air. Especially from him. 

“I mean,” he continued, “because you’re… you’re such a skilled medic. No one sprays that bacta quite like you…” He faded off at the end, cringing at his own words and causing you to wonder if he was so quick to correct himself because he would never want that sort of assumption… 

“Yes, that is pretty much all I do,” you said, intending it to be light and playful but realizing as it came out that it could be interpreted as indignation or sarcasm. Before you could clarify, he had already jumped in.

“No! No, I know you do more. You do… a lot! So much more… Ah, kriff,” he finally declared, and his earnest floundering made it impossible for you to hold back a giggle. How could someone be so fearless, commanding, strategic, and… awkward? 

“I was just teasing,” you offered, giving him a wink as you sprayed the all-purpose bacta. He closed his eyes at the cool sensation, and you released your gentle hold on his chin, allowing him to lower his head. You bent closer to ensure adequate coverage, resting a hand on the outside of his bicep. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about touching his arms before… gliding your hands across the scars and muscles as you lay in his embrace, listening to his smooth voice in your ear as he shared more of himself with you than he’d ever allowed to anyone else… 

You noticed suddenly that some of the silky liquid had gathered on the edge of his eyebrow, threatening to drip into his eye. Without thinking, you wiped it away with a brush of your thumb that lingered on the edge of his face for a moment longer than was medically necessary. At the same time, he was opening his eyes, and they widened at the sight of your face so close to his. You couldn’t pull your hand away, resting bent fingers against the side of his head and staring at him like an idiot. Gods, he was enrapturing – an inexplicable combination of competence and humility.

He lifted his face to yours, moving suddenly and deliberately as if you’d given him an order. His hands were tightly gripping the edge of the bed on either side of his legs; you could feel his knuckles pressing into the side of your thigh as his nose touched yours, lips slightly parted. As if in a dream, you closed your eyes and met his mouth with your own.

Fireworks exploded across every inch of your skin, and you dropped your hand to his shoulder, tilting your head to meet him more fully. You were frantically trying to memorize every detail of this moment, because you were positive that you would wake up soon and none of it would have really happened. His lips were so soft, yet pressed against yours with a firm resolve. The scent of his face and the sound of his breathing were intoxicating, and you felt as though you were drifting on a cloud. 

As quickly as it began, it was over, both of you pulling back with shock and awe painted across your faces. Your mouth remained slightly open as you stepped back on wobbly legs, and he lifted a hand to his own mouth in disbelief. 

“Is that… That wasn’t what you were… You weren’t going in for a kiss, were you?” he stuttered, muffled between his fingers as his face blossomed red. Your heart swelled in your chest at his reaction, and you couldn’t resist touching his cheek one last time with a shaky, adoring hand. 

“No,” you admitted shyly, “but that was… amazing.” Your voice was quiet and breathy as it carried your vulnerable admission, and his mortified expression began to melt into one of unsure curiosity. 

“I’m sorry, though…” he continued, “I didn’t mean–”

“Please,” you interrupted, “Don’t be sorry. You don’t need to say anything. Just… thank you.” 

He rubbed the back of his neck with a hand as you stood up straight again, and he rose to his feet beside you, eyes unable to leave the ground. He chuckled as a preface to his next words, “Head wounds, you know…” Your sudden laughter brought his gaze up to meet your own, and you couldn’t hide the affection and admiration on your face. 

“Head wounds,” you echoed with a smile. 

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[half-an-hour-hence]

Some random headcanons for the ghosts if they were alive today (part 1)

JAMES

I’m so unoriginal but he works in a war museum as a tour guide. He’s often assigned to showing kids on school trips around because he’s always so excited to answer all of their questions.

People call him ‘Captain’ because of his obsession with war (specifically the events of WW2), not because he’s actually served in the army. He did apply, but failed his medical exam.

His joint pain gets really bad sometimes, so he occasionally carries a cane to help.

James met Havers when he was in a cafe with Humphrey; he caught his eye when they were in line waiting to order and couldn’t stop glancing over at him after he’d sat back down. Humphrey - ever the wingman - caught on immediately and asked Havers to join them in the hopes that James would actually speak to him. It worked, and they’ve been together for two years now.

MARY

Works as an independent artist and sells her abstract art online. She’s had multiple exhibitions as well. She can also sew and crochet, and she sometimes sells what she makes at markets. Most of the time she just gives things away to her friends, though.

She lives in one of those loft apartments with her girlfriend, Annie. Annie runs the cafe that the Captain met Havers in, and they met at one of Mary’s exhibitions. They’ve been together for three years.

Goes out of her way to slag off men on Twitter.

Was internet best friends with Kitty before finding out she lived literally down the road from her. They’ve been inseparable ever since. They go travelling to little villages in the middle of nowhere specifically to spend hours in those quaint antique shops.

ROBIN

He works at the local university as a physics professor. He’s quite an enthusiastic and entertaining teacher, often giving visual demonstrations of how things work to try and make his lessons more interesting and enjoyable.

Co-runs a conspiracy blog on Tumblr with Sophie, Humphrey’s girlfriend.

Robin is obviously very passionate about space, so he owns several telescopes and frequently hikes up hills in the middle of the night to study the stars and the moon. He also runs an astronomy club at the university.

This isn’t necessarily a new thing, but he’s an excellent listener, and wants to include everyone. He’s the only one who’ll stick around when James starts talking about the Second World War. He’s doing a French Duolingo course with Humphrey. He isn’t afraid to try new things, like sewing with Mary or cruising with Julian (although he’s never doing that again).