#occupations suggests

[b-blushes]

please clap i am facing the horrors of evolving disability and am researching if i can do anything more in my daily life instead of burying my head in the ground 👍

here's some leaflets that disabled/chronically ill pals might appreciate, i found them on the papworth hospital website (prestigious cardiology hospital in the uk) This one's about energy conservation (focussing on fatigue and breathlessness, 2 of my enemies) - using your energy wisely in order to improve quality of life https://royalpapworth.nhs.uk/application/files/3215/8590/5483/PI_179_Energy_Conservation_A4_v2.pdf Here's a leaflet about general exercises "for people who are weak and/or breathless" (obligatory disclaimer that i'm not your doctor or a doctor at all) https://royalpapworth.nhs.uk/application/files/9917/0049/6038/PI-48-General-exercise-programme-vs5.pdf Here's a leaflet about 'good posture' (it was written for people with cystic fibrosis originally) https://royalpapworth.nhs.uk/application/files/6515/5844/9672/PI_154_Improving_your_posture_vs2.pdf some may say that this does not need to be a blog post BUT it is very lonely being ill. and it can be really hard to find resources. number one lifesaving thing for me since becoming disabled i think (apart from the times that i can get good medical care) is community (knowing people who understand and support each other). unfortunately i already do pretty much all of the suggestions in the energy conservation leaflet (the main thing that's causing me issues right now) but it is helpful to know that it's real. it just sucks that i keep looking for suggestions to make changes to improve and there aren't any more, suggesting that this is the 'best' i can get. perhaps because like. this is my condition. I find it really hard to know when to believe there's more you can do and when there just isn't and you're as 'good' as you're gonna get! I don't know who to ask about this, or if it's something/ a 'decision' (realisation?) that has to come from me.

In the meantime I'll continue to try to gently look up things when I feel like I can face it, and do my best to continue putting everything into place the rest of the time.

[ansburg]

— from Norman G. Finkelstein's Beyond Chutzpah: On the Misuse of Anti-Semitism and the Abuse of History (14-16) (text below)

Yet if, as I’ve suggested, broad agreement has been reached on the factual record, an obvious anomaly arises: what accounts for the impassioned controversy that still swirls around the Israel-Palestine conflict? To my mind, explaining this apparent paradox requires, first of all, that a fundamental distinction be made between those controver- sies that are real and those that are contrived. To illustrate real differences of opinion, let us consider again the Palestinian refugee question. It is possible for interested parties to agree on the facts yet come to diametrically opposed moral, legal, and political conclusions. Thus, as already mentioned, the scholarly consensus is that Palestinians were ethnically cleansed in 1948. Israel’s leading historian on the topic, Benny Morris, although having done more than anyone else to clarify exactly what happened, nonetheless concludes that, morally, it was a good thing—just as, in his view, the “annihilation” of Native Americans was a good thing—that, legally, Palestinians have no right to return to their homes, and that, politically, Israel’s big error in 1948 was that it hadn’t “carried out a large expulsion and cleansed the whole country—the whole Land of Israel, as far as the Jordan” of Palestinians.9 However repellent morally, these clearly can’t be called false conclusions. Returning to the universe inhabited by normal human beings, it’s possible for people to concur on the facts as well as on their moral and legal implications yet still reach divergent political conclusions.

[...] Benny Morris, although approving the ethnic cleansing of Palestine and nearly pathological in his hatred of Palestinians,28 nonetheless anchors Palestinian opposition to Jewish settlement in a perfectly rational, uncomplicated motive: “The fear of territorial displacement and dispossession was to be the chief motor of Arab antagonism to Zionism.”29 What’s remarkable about this formulation isn’t so much what’s said but, rather, what’s not said: there’s no invoking of “Arab anti-Semitism,” no invoking of “Arab fears of modernity,” no invoking of cosmic “clashes.” There’s no mention of them because, for understanding what happened, there’s no need of them—the obvious explanation also happens to be a sufficient one. Indeed, in any comparable instance, the sorts of mystifying clichés commonplace in the Israel-Palestine conflict would be treated, rightly, with derision. In the course of resisting European encroachment, Native Americans committed many horrendous crimes. But to understand why doesn’t require probing the defects of their character or civilization. Criticizing the practice, in government documents, of reciting Native American “atrocities,” Helen Hunt Jackson, a principled defender of Native Americans writing in the late nineteenth century, observed: “[T]he Indians who committed these ‘atrocities’ were simply ejecting by force, and, in the contests arising from this forcible ejectment, killing men who had usurped and stolen their lands. …What would a community of white men, situated precisely as these Cherokees were, have done?”30

To apprehend the motive behind Palestinian “atrocities,” this ordinary human capacity for empathy would also seem to suffice. Imagine the bemused reaction were a historian to hypothesize that the impetus behind Native American resistance was “anti-Christianism” or “anti-Europeanism.” What’s the point of such exotic explanations—unless the obvious one is politically incorrect? Of course, back then, profound explanations of this sort weren’t necessary. The natives impeded the wheel of progress, so they had to be extirpated; nothing more had to be said. For the sake of “mankind” and “civilization,” Theodore Roosevelt wrote, it was “all-important” that North America be won by a “masterful people.” Although for the indigenous population this meant “the infliction and suffering of hideous woe and misery,” it couldn’t have been otherwise: “The world would probably not have gone forward at all, had it not been for the displacement or submersion of savage and barbaric peoples.” And again: “The settler and pioneer have at bottom justice on their side: this great continent could not have been kept as nothing but a game preserve for squalid savages.”

It was only much later, after the humanity of these “squalid savages” was ratified—in any event, formally—that more sophisticated rationales became necessary. In the case of the United States, the “hideous woe and misery” inflicted could be openly acknowledged because the fate of the indigenous population was, figuratively as well as literally, in large part a dead issue. In the case of Palestine it’s not, so all manner of elaborate explanation has to be contrived in order to evade the obvious. The reason Benny Morris’s latest pronouncements elicited such a shocked reaction is that they were a throwback to the nineteenth century. Dispensing with the ideological cloud making of contemporary apologists for Israel, he justified dispossession on grounds of the conflict between “barbarians” and “civilization.” Just as, in his view, it was better for humanity that the “great American democracy” displaced the Native Americans, so it is better that the Jewish state has displaced the Palestinians. “There are cases,” he baldly states, “in which the overall, final good justifies harsh and cruel acts that are committed in the course of history.” Isn’t this Roosevelt speaking? But one’s not supposed to utter such crass things anymore.32 To avoid outraging current moral sensibilities, the obvious must be papered over with sundry mystifications. The elementary truth that, just as in the past, the “chief motor of Arab antagonism” is “[t]he fear of territorial displacement and dispossession”—a fear the rational basis for which is scarcely open to question, indeed, is daily validated by Israeli actions—must, at all costs, be concealed. To evade the obvious, another stratagem of the Israel lobby is playing The Holocaust and “new anti-Semitism” cards. In a previous study, I examined how the Nazi holocaust has been fashioned into an ideological weapon to immunize Israel from legitimate criticism.33 In this book I look at a variant of this Holocaust card, namely, the “new anti-Semitism.” In fact, the allegation of a new anti-Semitism is neither new nor about anti-Semitism. Whenever Israel comes under renewed international pressure to withdraw from occupied territories, its apologists mount yet another meticulously orchestrated media extravaganza alleging that the world is awash in anti-Semitism. This shameless exploitation of anti-Semitism delegitimizes criticism of Israel, makes Jews rather than Palestinians the victims, and puts the onus on the Arab world to rid itself of anti-Semitism rather than on Israel to rid itself of the Occupied Territories.

9. Ari Shavit, “Survival of the Fittest,” interview with Benny Morris, Haaretz (9 January 2004). For perceptive commentary, see Baruch Kimmerling, “Is Ethnic Cleansing of Arabs Getting Legitimacy from a New Israeli Historian?” Tikkun (27 January 2004); for Morris’s recent pronouncements, see also Finkelstein, Image and Reality, pp. xxix–xxx. 28. He’s called the Palestinian people “sick, psychotic,” “serial killers” whom Israel must “imprison” or “execute,” and “barbarians” around whom “[s]omething like a cage has to be built.” See the Haaretz interview and the pages on Morris’s recent pronouncements in Image and Reality cited above. 29. Benny Morris, Righteous Victims: A History of the Zionist-Arab Conflict, 1881–1999 (New York, 1999), p. 37. 30. Helen Hunt Jackson, A Century of Dishonor (New York, 1981), p. 265. 31. For these and similar formulations, see Theodore Roosevelt, The Winning of the West (New York, 1889), 1:118–19, 121; 4:7, 54–56, 65, 200, 201. 32. In fact, one isn’t even allowed to remember that Roosevelt said them: one searches recent Roosevelt biographies in vain for any mention of the pronouncements of his just cited, or scores of others like them pervading his published writings and correspondence. 33. Finkelstein, Holocaust Industry.

[namira]

Ngl I think a lot of the bad experiences I've had with therapists have come down to the fact that the worst of them have all been to therapy themselves, and have specifically internalized that thing they tell people with social anxiety where other peoples' actions and behaviors reflect them not you etc. Thus they interpret any 'wtf are you talking about lmaoo' from their patients as something their patients do with literally every person they meet, and not something their patients do in response people who are assholes and also stupid.

[torchwood-99]

Ok, don't reblog me and tell me that the infliction of gender roles on Eowyn was in any just, all because "well someone had to do that work even if it doesn't get praise." Don't reblog me and say that the point of Eowyn's story is that somebody had to stay behind and tend to the house and therefore Eowyn should have just accepted it, even if no one asked the same thing of Theoden or Eomer or any of the other men. Don't reblog me saying her arc is about her learning her place, and accepting her duty to toil and work and do all the stuff no one else wants to do, without any expectation of glory, while her male peers get opportunities to do so handed to them on a silver platter. Not when she reads Aragorn the riot act for giving her the same spiel.

“And she answered: 'All your words are but to say: you are a woman, and your part is in the house. But when the men have died in battle and honour, you leave to be burned in the house, for the men will need it no more. But I am of the House of Eorl and not a serving-woman. I can ride and wield blade, and I do not fear either pain or death.'

Yes, it's important that Eowyn learned to embrace life and healing after the war, but Eowyn was totally justified in wanting to have the chance to fight for her country in the way that suits her best, and to be sick to death of always being the one left behind against her will, because she's a woman and the house is just the woman's place.

[llycaons]

the kind of arts and crafts shit I'm doing now to make sense of this studio

[thesealfriend]

Having a really uncommon surname is wild because you'll be just chilling listening to Tom Scott introduce a lateral thinking question and then n.early fuckin fall over when the submitter has the same name as you

[unicorn-names]

Unicorn Name suggestions - Occupations/Trades

Nouns

Apprentice

Breadwinner

Baker

Butcher

Blacksmith

Carpenter

Chef

Engineer

Fisher, Fisherman

Mariner

Merchant

Mechanic

Plumber

Stoker

Sailor

Shepherd

Saddler

Scout

Servant

Sewer

Technician

Worker

Welder

[fcsources]

hello! Could you suggest some fcs for an acrobat at a circus? The inspo in mind is Ty Lee from ATLA, it’s okay if they are full Asian, mixed or any race, thanks.

𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙤 𝙯𝙚𝙥. 𝙞 '𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙮 𝙖 𝙜𝙖𝙢𝙚. of course!! this is fully a tangent, so you'll have to forgive me for that, but i know admittedly absolutely nothing about that franchise and was... stunned, to say the least, seeing the character's age juxtaposed with those bikini pictures 💀 ANYWAY! but yes, i hope this is helpful for you!! it seems like ty lee is "cheerful and energetic," with a strong desire for individuality. age range is around 18-38!

Apo Nattawin ( 1994, actor, Thai )

Drew Ray Tanner ( 1992, actor, one quarter each Chinese && Jamaican )

Emily Meade ( 1989, actress, white )

Isabel May ( 2000, actress, white )

Lim Jiyeon ( 1990, actress, Korean )

Lisa Yamada ( 2002, actress, Japanese )

Lorenzo Zurzolo ( 2000, actor, white )

Luca Hollestelle ( 1996, actress, white )

Mason Versaw ( 2000, actor, white )

Maxence Danet-Fauvel ( 1993, actor, white )

Megan Suri ( 1999, actress, Indian )

Mint Ranchrawee ( 1998, actress, Thai )

Noah Lalonde ( 1998, actor, white )

Ryan Potter ( 1995, actor, half Japanese )

Steven R. McQueen ( 1988, actor, one quarter Filipino )

Sun Yihan ( 1998, actress Chinese )

Taylor Lashae ( 1988, model with acting resources, half Colombian )

Taylor Zakhar Perez ( 1991, actor, half Mexican (including white) && one quarter(?) unspecified Middle Eastern )

Thomas Doherty ( 1995, actor, white )

Vivoree Esclito ( 2000, musician with acting resources, Filipino )

[sayruq]

In the early afternoon of 29 November last year, several Palestinian boys descended on to their street in the occupied West Bank, where they often played together.Minutes later, two of them lay dead from gunshots fired by Israeli soldiers - Basil, 15, and eight-year-old Adam. As part of an investigation into the conduct of Israel's security forces in the West Bank, which has been under military occupation for more than half a century, the BBC has pieced together what happened on the day the two boys were killed. Mobile phone and CCTV footage, information about the movements of Israel's military, witness testimony and detailed investigation of the scene, including taking measurements, combine to reveal evidence suggesting serious human rights violations. The evidence we found has prompted Ben Saul, UN special rapporteur on human rights and counter-terrorism, to say the death of Adam appears to be a "war crime".Another legal expert, Dr Lawrence Hill-Cawthorne, described the use of lethal force as “indiscriminate”. The Israel Defense Forces (IDF) said the circumstances of the deaths were “under review” but said “live fire is used only in order to remove immediate threats or for arrest purposes, following arrest protocols after exhausting other options”.

Video footage from 29 November shows Basil standing next to a hardware store, its shutters firmly locked down. When Israel's military arrives, shops close quickly in Jenin, a city in the West Bank - Palestinian territory which, unlike Gaza, is not run by Hamas. Witnesses said gunfire had been ringing out from a nearby operation by Israel's army in the Jenin refugee camp. Adam, a football fanatic and massive Lionel Messi fan, stood with his older brother Baha, 14. There were about nine boys on the street in total, all captured on CCTV cameras that provided a nearly 360-degree view of what happened next.

A few hundred metres away, a convoy of at least six armoured Israeli military vehicles turned a corner and began heading towards the boys, who clearly became uneasy. Several of the boys started to move away. At this precise moment, mobile phone footage shows the front door of an armoured vehicle opened. The soldier inside had a direct view of the boys. Basil had darted into the middle of the road, while Adam was 12m further from the soldiers, running away. Then at least 11 gunshots rang out.

Medical reports obtained by the BBC show that two shots hit Basil in the chest. Another bullet struck eight-year-old Adam in the back of the head as he ran away; his older brother Baha desperately tried to drag him to cover, leaving a trail of blood as he screamed for an ambulance.

[wearenotjustnumbers2]

Since I've seen a number of people shocked about the Palestinian kids kept in Israeli prisons, here's more. I suggest you read about it more and spread the truth.

Ahmad manasra was arrested in 2015, after he was run over by Israeli soldiers and his cousin who was walking with him killed. He has been kept in solitary confinement since November 2021. He started showing signs of mental disorders as well as schizophrenia due to the torture he endured by the IOF. Read about our children who are getting tortured and abused in Israeli military prisons. They are not criminals, freedom to all of them.

Soldiers versus children, yet the world sides with soldiers! This is pre-OCT 7th! A western backed, democratically elected government with one - if not THE strongest army in the world! I am a mother my heart skips beats when I look at their faces. These could be my children or your children. These are our children! Enough! This occupation must end now! This madness must end now!

[embbarnes]

Sugar Plums. | W.S

summary: The soldier has an attachment to you.

warnings: Suggestive 18+ MDNI & Fluff | Winter Soldier!Bucky | Brief mentions of PTSD | Brief talk of HYDRA | Heavy petting | Love biting/hickeys

a/n: This came to me randomly but thought it was cute and somewhat spicy. I added some fluff to balance it all out and tried to keep the sexy scenes sweet too. I see so many fics of him being super aggressive in bed and those are great, but for me I think he'd be a little more like this. Takes place after the events of CA:TWS. Contains roughly translated Russian, native speakers can correct me if anything was translated wrong. Ty. ;; wc: 5.5k

It was so awkward.

Everyone sat frozen in place, their eyes locked on the imposing figure of the Winter Soldier as he towered behind you, his piercing blue eyes methodically scanning the room and studying each occupant with an intensity that made them shift uncomfortably in their seats.

"Absolutely not!" Tony was the first to break the suffocating silence, his voice sharp and decisive as he beat Steve to speaking by a mere second. There was absolutely no way he would even consider allowing the fist of HYDRA to take up residence in his tower, treating him like he was nothing more than some lost stray that needed sheltering. "He's not staying here, no way in hell - this isn't a halfway house for reformed assassins."

"Tony, come on. HYDRA is gone, their control over him is broken," you reasoned desperately, your voice taking on a pleading tone as you gestured toward the silent figure behind you, "He's been surviving on his own for weeks, barely getting by. Just look at him...he's exhausted, malnourished, and clearly needs somewhere safe to stay and recover."

"Uh, how about no?" Tony fired back, staring at you like you had grown a second head...or like you had a towering sleeper soldier looming behind you.

Tony wasn't your favorite person in the world, but he was usually somewhat reasonable.

"There's absolutely no way that he's staying here. Have you completely lost your mind? What if he suddenly snaps or loses control and goes completely berserk, hm? What if one night those sleeper triggers buried in his brain suddenly activate and he systematically takes us out one by one in our sleep?" Tony added emphatically, his hands gesturing wildly in the air as he attempted to visualize the gruesome scenarios playing out in his mind.

"Your state-of-the-art security cameras can't give us a heads up before that happens?" You asked with dry sarcasm, your tone deliberately flat and unimpressed, clearly making a joke while you tried to find some kind of middle ground that would get the agitated, self-proclaimed playboy to calm down and think rationally.

"No chance in hell, sweet cheeks," he folded his arms and glared at you with sternness that etched across his features. "Too dangerous."

"He's staying, whether you like it or not," you replied in the same unwavering tone, standing your ground with resolute conviction. "He's hurt, weak, completely vulnerable. There's absolutely nothing he could possibly do in this state. He needs somewhere warm and safe to stay, especially since he's been struggling to survive out on the streets for weeks now. Besides, winter is coming fast and there’s no way he won’t get hypothermia or something." You added with concern, knowing full well that while the soldier hadn't been entirely helpless during his ordeal, he certainly hadn't managed to secure any kind of stable shelter.

His temporary refuges consisted only of cold spaces beneath bridges, dark corners tucked away in forgotten alleys, or the remains of abandoned buildings - not a single place where he could truly let his guard down or feel protected from the harsh elements. With winter's rapid approach and already light dustings of snow, the temperatures would only get more brutal as the nights went on.

You continued to argue with Tony, Steve butting in every so often, luckily siding with you, desperate to have his old friend somewhere safe. It was a long, frustrating argument that lasted much longer than need be.

Earlier that day, while you had been making your way down the frost-covered street of New York's downtown district, his eyes had caught sight of your familiar form. Something deep within him told him to follow you, a magnetic pull that he couldn't explain. He obeyed the instinct, trailing silently behind you all the way back to the tower. When you finally became aware of his presence, he was thoroughly drenched from the steadily falling snow, his cheeks and nose having turned a bright, rosy color from the biting cold as he tried to suppress his constant shivering.

The moment you made your sudden turn to approach him, he visibly startled, immediately taking a defensive step backward as his mind raced through all the possible scenarios and potential threats. His eyes darted across your face with obvious wariness as you fully turned to face him, his entire body subtly shifting its weight from foot to foot, muscles tensed and ready to bolt away.

"It's okay...you look cold..." You spoke softly, your voice barely above a whisper, trying not to startle him as you took in his disheveled appearance. The soldier, the one whose face had practically been plastered across every news channel, the same one Steve had spoken about with such raw emotion in his voice.

You remembered how Steve had mourned his best friend, utterly confused and devastated about why he had saved from the river, while Bucky fell to what should have been his death. Steve held onto that grief, that guilt, like a lifeline. He held onto it so desperately, clinging to the faintest hope that a sliver of Bucky was still somewhere deep inside the persona of the Winter Soldier.

Looking at him now, you couldn't see any trace of the man from Steve's stories - the soldier's eyes were too wild and wide, filled with fear and confusion.

But despite everything you'd heard, despite the destruction you'd witnessed on the news, despite the intense warnings from everyone in the tower, there was something about his presence that didn't trigger your fight or flight response.

He didn't make you feel unsafe.

He looked absolutely beat down, exhausted to his very core, his shoulders slumped in a way that made you wonder when he'd last had a moment's rest. You weren't even sure he could take you down if he tried in this state, though you knew his reputation suggested otherwise. He was shaking from the cold air as it blew in a stinging breeze, his metal arm gleaming dully in what little light remained, while the incoming winter storm brought with it a thick haze and countless tiny pinpricks of needle-like snowflakes that seemed to cut through the air.

"Come inside with me, I'll take care of you." You offered quietly, your voice gentle and reassuring as you extended your hand towards him. Your body language remained open and non-threatening, shoulders relaxed and posture deliberately casual to help put him at ease and to show him you felt no fear.

After a few silent moments where his piercing blue eyes studied you through the thick haze, he finally shifted his weight forward and took a step in your direction.

The water in the shower had set a steady steam in the bathroom, the mirror had fogged and the tiles sweat below your bare feet.

You could hear the gentle splashing of water against the bathtub as he cleaned himself. The mechanical whirring of his metal arm caught your attention, hopefully that thing was waterproof, but it must be, right?

After setting out a fresh towel and clean clothes for his use, you quietly excused yourself to provide him with privacy. The state of his current attire was awful, every piece was thoroughly saturated and carried an unmistakable stench that made you wrinkle your nose. The clothes were in such poor condition that you couldn't help but wonder if they had been scavenged from someone who no longer needed them.

You wouldn’t put it past the soldier to steal from a cadaver.

His shower routine was notably brief, years of conditioning taught him to minimize the time spent on his personal care. Upon finishing, he emerged from behind the curtain and efficiently dried himself with the provided towel. His gaze fell upon the fresh clothes you had thoughtfully placed by the sink, while his previous garments had been discreetly removed.

The soldier hesitated momentarily before donning the clean outfit. It wasn’t anything fancy, a pair of grey sweatpants emblazoned with the Avenger's logo along the side and a simple yet comfortable black tank top. When he finally emerged from the bathroom to face you, his body language betrayed his uncertainty as he stood there, not sure what to do now. Comfort was completely foreign to him, and care was a dream away.

"Tony finally gave in," you replied softly, your voice sounded in the quiet stillness of the bedroom. "He said you could stay here with us."

He remained motionless, his expression blank and unreadable as he stood there, offering neither response nor the slightest hint of acknowledgement to your words. You weren’t sure what to expect but that seemed pretty in character for him at the moment.

"You'll be staying in my quarters since no one else is comfortable having you in their space just yet...but don't worry too much about that," you reassured gently, though you could tell from his demeanor that others' opinions held little weight in his mind. "They'll come around after some time, I'm sure of it."

His gaze fixed upon you then, his brow creasing ever so slightly with an unspoken question as he began to move. Each step was deliberate and measured as he crossed the room, closing the distance between you until he stood directly in front of you, close enough that you could see the water droplets from his freshly washed hair beading at the ends and falling onto the fabric of your top, leaving dark spots where they landed.

"Everything's going to be fine," you said with gentle reassurance, trying to ease the tension in the air. "Why don't we head to the kitchen and get you something to eat? You must be hungry." You offered, hoping to bring some normalcy to the situation.

The soldier shadowed your every movement, following closely behind like a faithful companion who refused to stray from their master's side.

Upon entering the expansive kitchen, you immediately made your way to the industrial-sized refrigerator, searching through its contents for something suitable to offer him. The kitchen was perpetually stocked to the brim with an array of foods, snacks, and ingredients, practically anything one could imagine or desire. It was like having a private, fully-stocked grocery store.

Though with a the ravenous super soldier with enhanced metabolism, the mighty Asgardian god whose appetite matched his status, and Banner's surprisingly hulk-ish consumption…the team still depleted their food with an efficiency that would put a pack of famished wolves to shame.

"Hm...what should you have...do you want anything specific?" You turned over your shoulder to address him, but he maintained his characteristic silence. Unmoving, and completely stoic, like a statue carved from marble.

"Нет [No]," came his quiet response, the Russian word rolling off his tongue deeply. He remained perfectly still, observing with careful attention as you continued your search through the refrigerator's contents, trying to determine what would be most appropriate for him to eat. Your mind was working quickly, knowing you wanted to avoid anything too time-consuming to prepare. You wanted to get some food into him sooner rather than later.

"How about...I could make some soup real quick? Tomato and grilled cheese might be a safe option for you. Shouldn't upset your stomach too much if you haven’t been eating a lot, and it will warm you up if you're still feeling cold." You turned back toward him once more, studying his features carefully for any hint of reaction or preference to your suggestion, any subtle change in his expression.

But, he didn't provide even the slightest indication of his feelings.

You decided on tomato soup and a grilled cheese anyway, you figured it was best and immediately set to work in the kitchen.

Although you typically prided yourself on preparing meals completely from scratch, this particular circumstance called for something different. You assembled the sandwich, buttering the bread before placing it in a heated pan to get a golden-brown crust while keeping a watchful eye on the pot of soup simmering beside it, occasionally stirring for even heating.

Once everything reached the perfect temperature and consistency, you transferred the meal onto clean dishes, relieved it didn’t take too long. You presented him with the steaming bowl of soup and perfectly grilled sandwich, watching as the soldier deliberately took his place at the counter, his eyes fixed intently on the rising steam from the bowl before him.

You watched him, noting how his entire body remained unnaturally rigid and motionless, as though every muscle was locked in place and braced for something. His lips bore a slight sheen of moisture, like he had licked them at some point when you weren't watching. Yet despite his obvious hunger, he hadn't made even the slightest attempt to reach for the food. His eyes held intense longing and hesitation, briefly meeting yours before quickly darting away, as if making eye contact was somehow forbidden.

"What's wrong?" You asked with growing concern etched across your features, "You're hungry aren't you? I can tell you haven't eaten in a while. Especially not anything warm, at least. I know it can be hard out there, all by yourself…"

His response came in the form of an almost imperceptible nod, his gaze remaining firmly fixed on the bowl and sandwich before him, as though they were the most important and most dangerous objects in the room.

"So why aren't you eating? The food's getting cold, it won’t be as good if it cools too much."

"Я не могу совершить действие без приказа. [I cannot perform an action without an order]," the soldier responded in barely more than a whisper, his voice carrying the weight of years of conditioning.

You stood there, completely lost in the language barrier between you. Your limited knowledge of Russian extended only to the most basic words - 'да' and 'нет' - leaving you clueless by his response and worried about the implications of his behavior.

You didn't want to wake Natasha, even though she would certainly understand what he was saying in Russian, but disturbing her sleep for something as simple as a quick translation seemed unnecessary and might put her in a bad mood. Instead, an idea popped into your head that would avoid an angry widow. You reached for your phone and placed it on the smooth counter surface, navigating to a translator app before looking up at him again. "Can you repeat that?"

The soldier's eyes flickered briefly to the phone screen, taking in the sight of the translation app with what seemed like recognition, before his gaze deliberately returned to the untouched food laid out before him. "I cannot perform an action without an order," he stated in perfect, albeit mechanical English this time.

You blinked in surprise, thoroughly caught off guard by the sudden switch to English when he had been persistently speaking Russian up until this point. "Okay...well...eat then, you can eat freely here, you don't need an order to do that." You slowly tucked your phone away into your pocket as his right hand gradually lifted from where it had been resting in his lap, reaching out to pick up the sandwich.

You weren't sure what you were expecting, but he wolfed down his food within a minute, that sandwich was gone within maybe three bites. The soup swallowed just as fast.

God, he was starving, and the realization made your heart ache.

"Better?" You asked gently, to which he only nodded, swallowing the last of the food in his mouth.

This became routine, the soldier stuck by your side like a duckling imprinting on its mother.

He followed you diligently around every corner of the tower, his protective instincts activated as he positioned himself like an ever-vigilant guardian. His eyes constantly scanned the surroundings, noting how others would cast uncertain and sometimes suspicious glances in his direction.

These looks made him increasingly self-conscious and anxious, as though he were some exotic creature put on display at a zoo for others to gawk at. But in your presence, he seemed a bit more at ease. He genuinely liked being around you.

Gradually, the rigid tension that had defined his existence began to melt away, and he started allowing more intimate gestures of care. He let you gently brush his unruly hair into place, carefully wash his face with warm water, or trim his growing stubble for him.

He accepted these tender ministrations without the slightest resistance or complaint, though a nagging worry lingered in your mind that his compliance stemmed from years of conditioning to submit to others' wishes. Each time you worried about that, you’d see a genuine warmth and contentment in his gaze rather than submission, showing you that he truly found comfort and pleasure in your gentle touch.

It was evening, the room reflected the warm glow of festive holiday lights emanating from a miniature Christmas tree nestled in the corner. The soldier found himself transfixed by the small decorated tree, his eyes lingering on each twinkling light as their vibrant colors danced and shimmered. The sterile, monotonous walls he had grown accustomed to during his confinement were nothing compared to the colorful lights. The gentle play of red, green, and gold seemed to awaken something long dormant within him, he almost wanted to plant himself in front of the tree and just stare at it.

Tony may have allowed his stay, but that didn’t mean there weren’t restrictions. He was stern about where and when the soldier could go anywhere with you, and he demanded that he not leave your room afterhours. It wasn’t hard to follow, the solider showed reluctance to leave your room at all, having been so accustomed to being kept in one room. You didn’t push him, but you felt bad for him because he was missing how the tower had been decorated for the holidays. So, you got a smaller tree for the bedroom to provide some kind of festive look for him to take in.

You emerged from the bathroom, wisps of steam following in your wake, your damp hair leaving little droplets on your shoulders as you continued to towel it dry with scrunches. He remained motionless on the edge of your bed, his attention immediately shifting as he turned and blinked up at your approaching figure.

His icy eyes traced a deliberate path across your form, which was barely concealed beneath the thin fabric of your sleep shirt, the hem teasingly brushing against your mid-thigh with each movement. "I am beat," you sighed heavily, your voice carrying the weight of the day's festivities. The marathon of holiday activities had clearly taken its toll, leaving you thoroughly drained. The tower often held an array of things to do because Tony loved to show off what he could afford, and it wasn’t like anyone else would object.

He observed with rapt attention as you made your way onto the bed and settled back against the pillows, releasing a deep exhale that seemed to melt away the day's tension. His unwavering gaze remained fixed on the rhythmic, hypnotic motion of your chest rising and falling with each breath.

You felt the bed shift beneath you as he moved, his weight causing the mattress to dip and creak softly. He crawled over to where you lay, his arms positioning themselves on either side of your body, caging you in. Your eyes fluttered open to find him hovering directly above you, his presence overwhelming in its proximity. This was something new…he had always maintained somewhat of a distance before, never daring to position himself so intimately over top of you.

"Я скомпрометирован. [I'm compromised]," the soldier spoke in a hushed tone, his voice carrying that distinctive gravelly pitch that made you feel tingly. The tension between you had become damned near impossible to ignore. What had started as a subtle pull had grown into an overwhelming force of attraction that seemed to draw you both together like magnets.

Still, you forced yourself to hold back, maintaining that last thread of restraint. You had no way of knowing the depth of his emotional capacity, if he was even capable of genuine feelings, or wanted to experience them at all after everything he endured.

"Soldat...?" The whispered word escaped your lips as you noticed the subtle shift in his demeanor, the way his muscles tensed as he remained suspended above you, perfectly still. "You know I don't understand-"

"I am compromised," he repeated, switching to English this time. His voice had dropped even lower, carrying an edge of frustration that vibrated through the minimal space between your bodies.

"Comprom..." You sat up slowly on your elbows and shook your head in confusion, your brow furrowed as you tried to process his words. That’s what you’d say about a machine or computer, not a man. "What are you talking about?" Your eyes wandered downward, suddenly drawn to an unmistakable tent in his fitted briefs that became obvious from your new viewing angle, causing you to freeze in place as your breath caught in your throat.

So, he could feel things.

"Oh..." You felt a wave of embarrassment wash over you as you remained frozen in place, your cheeks growing warm. "I think I understand now...you're feeling a bit pent up, aren't you?"

His metal arm whirred softly, the sophisticated machinery humming as he moved to adjust his hand placement. "Да. [Yes]," he responded in a low voice, his gleaming titanium fingertips delicately ghosted across the bare skin of your thigh, just barely grazing beneath the hem of your thin sleep shirt. Goosebumps erupted along your body in response to the contact, the cool metal sudden against your flushed skin.

"Мне не нравится делиться вашим вниманием. [I don't like sharing your attention]," he muttered with an undertone of possession, his lips curling into a slight frown as he gradually leaned closer to you. His silken hair delicately tickled your face as he slowly lowered himself, the tips of your noses barely grazing against each other in an intimate gesture. His lips parted ever so slightly, revealing a glimpse of anticipation before he dipped his head down, warm lips pressing a tender, lingering kiss to your jawline.

You swallowed reflexively, your breath catching in your throat as you felt his warm, steady breath caress your sensitive skin, sending a visible shudder of growing excitement through your body.

He continued his gentle exploration, encouraged by your acceptance and the absence of any resistance. He pressed a trail of soft, purposeful kisses along the curve of your jaw, each one more intimate than the last, before gradually working his way down to your neck. His lips carefully followed the rhythmic flutter of your pulse beneath your skin, his tongue peeking out shyly to touch against you.

"Ah-" You voiced softly, feeling him settle on a particularly sensitive spot, right against the delicate side of your neck. It was nestled perfectly between the graceful junction where your neck connected to your collarbone, the skin there warm and inviting, holding a faint trace of blood flow from the intricate network of smaller veins positioned just beneath the surface.

He kissed many times with increasing intensity, clearly finding this spot ideal for his attentions. The soft, tentative pecks gradually became more passionate, open-mouthed kisses as each one was placed. His tongue began gently pressing against your skin with each lingering kiss, the pressure slowly growing in need. You felt your cheeks flush with warmth when he finally latched on, your eyes widening in surprise as the soldier's strong arms held you a little tighter.

Soldat began to suckle a mark, his ministrations gentle and teasing at first, but quickly growing in force and intensity as his skilled tongue swirled expertly around the trapped skin between his lips and teeth. The sensation drew a breathy moan from deep within you, making your entire body feel as though it were engulfed in flames of desire. Though you were completely helpless beneath the assassin, you had absolutely no intention or desire to push him away.

This felt too damned good.

Without thinking, your leg came up and hooked around his hips, drawing him closer until your bodies were flush against each other. The heat between you grew and you felt his painful erection trapped in his briefs, straining against the fabric as his arousal was staining them. Soldat exhaled sharply through his nose, his grip tightening possessively, but he did not let go.

His suckling grew increasingly intense, the sensitive skin tingling and starting to sting and burn with each passing moment. Still, he didn't release the bruised skin just yet.

Instead, he just bit down harder, ensuring the mark he left would last for days. You moaned loudly, your fingers gently tangling in his thick hair as your pleasured sounds encouraged his attention. He became more attentive when your little sounds of pleasure turned into sharp, quiet hisses - clearly indicating that the sensation had crossed from pleasure into discomfort, silently telling him to ease off.

When he did finally relent, he pulled back to admire his handiwork, looking down at the deep purple mark blooming on your neck. His breath came in heavy pants through his parted lips as he stayed quiet, watching intently as you struggled to catch your own breath too. The sight of you beneath him, disheveled and vulnerable, with flushed skin and labored breathing, was enough to draw him right back in.

He dipped back down with renewed hunger, his metal hand slowly threading through your hair before gently fisting it at the base of your skull, though his careful control ensured it wasn’t painful, just firm. He tugged just enough to guide your movement, encouraging you to expose more of your neck to his hungry gaze.

"E-easy..." You whispered, a note of anxious anticipation in your voice. You wanted more, god you wanted more, but his sudden change of behavior was a bit surprising for you.

"Понял. [Understood]," he whispered against your skin, pressing a soft kiss of reassurance to your jaw before returning his attention to your neck. Those soft kisses began again, trailing along your skin, but his restraint didn't last long as he quickly sought a new canvas for another mark. He latched onto a spot just a little bit higher on your neck, alternating between sucking and carefully controlled bites to gradually darken and bruise the sensitive flesh.

You felt bite after delicious bite, hickey after possessive hickey.

He marked the tender flesh of your neck in several deep, purple marks that bloomed like violent flowers across your skin...each one throbbing with a sweet ache when he pulled away. His tongue always swirled over the mark with care to soothe the sting of it, making you arch into his touch as you fell into a complete daze.

"S-Soldat," you muttered breathlessly, cheeks flushed crimson and eyelids heavy with desire. Your pupils matched his own - completely blown with hunger and desperate need. Those bermuda swirls meeting yours as he continued a torturously slow trail of hot kisses down your chest, nipping your collarbone with just enough pressure to make you gasp before following the gentle dip of your sternum.

He paused deliberately, pulling up so he could lift the thin sleep shirt over you and expose more of your bare chest to his hungry gaze, giving him better access for his heated kisses and teasing nips. Once your top was discarded somewhere on the floor, his hands gently but firmly held your sides, trailing up with reverent touches until settling against your ribcage. His larger hands completely encompassed your torso, making you feel small but protected.

The soldier was absolutely transfixed at the sight of your breasts, eyeing the soft mounds and peaked nipples as they hardened in the cool air, growing increasingly sensitive and rosy with your mounting arousal. It was like he was completely mesmerized by the sight before him, the fucking Winter Soldier, the most dangerous assassin in history, stopped dead in his tracks at the mere sight of your bare breasts.

You felt in charge now.

"What is it? Do you like them?" you purred softly to the soldier, your body swaying in a deliberately teasing motion that made them gently move. His eyes remained fixed, drinking in the sight before him as his lips parted ever so slightly. Slowly, his head tilted down again, surrendering to the moment. He let his face nestle against your chest, his lips trailing a constellation of unhurried kisses across your skin.

He began to nip and suckle the tender skin of your breasts, his mouth working to create deep, purple love bites on that delicate flesh. The bruising blossomed easily beneath his ministrations, almost like they were eager to show themselves.

His lips would find a promising spot, then he would begin lapping at the skin with gentle strokes of his tongue until he felt you squirming. The soldier took the sensitized flesh carefully between his teeth, rolling the captured skin while his talented muscle swirled and sucked.

Your chest displayed his passionate handiwork when he finally drew back to admire his creation. The plum-colored bruises created an intimate pattern across your skin, their rich hues made even more striking by the soft glow of the holiday lights that danced through the room, highlighting each carefully placed love bite until they seemed to shimmer like twilight stars against your flesh.

"Soldat...I think you covered enough surface area," you breathed, feeling overwhelmed by the intense throbbing that radiated from each mark he'd left. The sensation pulsed in waves across your skin, making it difficult to focus. Your neck was thoroughly covered in the passionate marks, and now your chest bore an equally impressive collection.

The soldier gazed down at you with intensely, his eyes taking in each little sugar plum bruise that decorated your skin like a masterpiece. Though they were scattered without any deliberate pattern, the overall effect clearly pleased him. You lay there looking thoroughly affected by his attention, hair mussed and breathing uneven, cheeks beautifully darkened with a dust of blush, just from his careful application of bites alone. The sight of you in such a state, marked so thoroughly, brought deep set satisfaction in his gut.

"Моя сейчас. [Mine now]," he muttered softly, his warm breath ghosting across your skin as his lips hovered mere millimeters from your own. The almost-kiss was delicate, just the faintest brush of contact that sent electricity dancing through your nerves. He almost seemed nervous to close that final distance, his confidence faltering despite the passionate trail of marks he had already left scattered across your skin.

He drew back slightly, seemingly snapping out of a trance, and you could see the vulnerability written plainly across his features as that nervousness flickered in his eyes. Shifting his weight, he settled back onto the bed, his right hand finding your knee and tracing gentle, soothing circles there with his thumb. The tender gesture matched his hushed voice as he spoke, "Я не хочу идти дальше. [I don't want to go any further]," the words carrying both certainty and a hint of apology.

Your brow furrowed deeply as you struggled to understand what he was trying to stay, the confusion evident in the slight crease between your eyebrows and the questioning tilt of your head. You really needed to study Russian. "Do you not want to continue?" you asked slowly and carefully, focusing more on interpreting the subtle nuances in his tone rather than trying to parse the exact words he was using.

His facial expression held hesitance and uncertainty, the slight downturn of his lips and the way his eyes wouldn't quite meet yours telling you what you needed to know. Body language was his primary mode of genuine communication, and you had become very good at reading these silent signals he unconsciously broadcast.

"It's okay, we can stop," you replied with a reassuring tone, making sure to keep your voice soft to help dissipate any lingering tension he might be feeling. "Let's just lay here, okay? We can cuddle without any kind of pressure to do anything else, if you want." You offered with a warm smile, wanting him to feel that his comfort and boundaries were completely respected and that there was no expectation or obligation to continue.

This was a lot of good progress with him, you typically just cuddled or he kept to his side of the bed but he had shown you a lot of sweet affection tonight, and you loved it, it meant he was growing more confident in himself and your relationship. The evidence of his passionate yet tender attention remained visible in the form of gentle, plum-colored marks that decorated your neck and chest as you lay beside him, watching as his silent form trembled slightly beneath the heavy warmth of the thick blankets that enveloped you both.

You opened your arms, offering him a warmer space, and he quickly scooted forward, tucking himself against you. Prone to being cold, he liked being under many layers of blankets, so you made sure to provide plenty for him to not only feel warm but secure. Plus...having you to hold him always helped.

Without the worry of being a soldier, he could rest easy like this.

Thanks for reading. -em 🌿

Dividers by @/strangergraphics | Images found on Pinterest.

[ma7moudgaza2]

How can I help my family in Gaza?

I am Mahmoud, a resident of northern Gaza. Since the war started, everything that touches a decent life has disappeared, and everything has become a mess.

I woke up in the morning and found that I had to stand in line for drinking water so that my family and I could have some.

I woke up in the morning and realized that I had to wake up before dawn to get in line for bread.

War, destruction, and killing,

The next morning, I had to make a fateful decision; should we stay in the house we were in or leave it? My whole family had to evacuate because the occupation issued evacuation orders for our residential area, and I didn’t know what was right or wrong…

Eventually, we left our homes, our belongings, and all our sweet memories, and we went wherever the army ordered us. After a while, the situation calmed down in our area.

I woke up to the sound of a phone call, "We reached your house after the army withdrew," but we didn’t find the house, nor did we find your family’s house.

I didn’t sleep that day; I sat with myself, wishing I could find time to mourn my life. My phone rang, "Come on, Mahmoud, let’s eat together." But Mahmoud had no money left! We spent everything; how could I go without food?

I woke up after 200 days of war, talked to my mom: "Mom, I want to look for internet and electricity to go back to work and support you, or I’ll stay with you to fill water and manage food." My mom said, "No, go, my son, the important thing is that you return to work."

I woke up after that; my mom went out to fill water, and my heart was breaking, but I had to get up and find a place to go back to work for her.

I managed to get a laptop from your support and found a place with electricity and internet at such a time because it was almost impossible. I also got a new tent, and things went well, thank God. However, at this time, everything turned back to how it was before; prices rose again, and famine returned amid the closure of crossings. Everything became worse than before; you can’t even provide for your daily expenses to the point that two or three days can pass without eating bread. Sometimes you manage with rice, bulgur, or lentils, but for how long?

How many mornings do we have left in this life? We don’t know.

The question is: dear reader, will you wake up to the disaster we are in? Will you realize that we truly need financial and moral support to be able to continue?

You can donate here

https://gofund.me/8044910a

My campaign is now $21,439 of the short goal of $25,000 We are still a long way off but I trust you guys to help us before we collapse

Or via paypal

@sar-soor @coughloop @vakarians-babe @notchainedtotrauma @sabrsiren

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@tiredguyswag @gothhabiba @slydiddledeedee @kingskrazzyart @a-shade-of-blue

[specsthesecond]

Being a waitress/bottle girl at a club that caters to monsters.

While serving a table of orcs their drinks you hear whistling from behind you and turn towards the table of werewolves calling you over,

"C'mere Doll, why don't you spend some time with us? It'd be better than looking at those ugly green faces."

The rest of the table barks out laughter and all you do is look back at the table of orcs to gauge their reactions, just incase you have to call the bouncer to stop another brawl.

"Aw yeah? Cus your slobbering snout's much more attractive, ain't it?"

One orc yells and the others hurl their chosen insults across the table as well. The werewolves grumble and snarl insults back and you just stand in the middle of this, trying to think of an escape.

"Maybe she ain't at your table for a reason!"

One of the orcs claims boldly and all the other orcs voice their agreement while the wolves clearly disagree.

"Why don't we let the lady decide." A wolf with greying fur suggests with a smirk and both tables seem to agree on this being just a wonderful idea.

"Well love? Who's better then? Us or the mutts?"

"Aye! The real question is who can treat her better, isn't that right, Doll?"

The attention of the two tables are now on you, waiting for your answer with baited breaths and half hard cocks probably.

"....I prefer minotaurs."

This deadpan response takes a few seconds to sink in before a chorus of disagreements and further arguing commences, but you're already making your way back towards the bar, you're sure they don't mind watching your tiny skirt bounce as you walk away.

That answer wasn't random, it's actually been the only thing you could think of all day. Your Minotaur coworkers cock reaching deep into your stomach while he pounds you into next week. That might be why so many customers have been extra forward with you today, maybe they can smell the need on you.

You finally make it back to the bar, getting ready to end your shift and finally get some relief.

"You causing trouble?"

You whip around to meet just the monster you were so desperate to see. He stands at the edge of the bar in his bouncer uniform, his sleeves hug his biceps very nicely and you nearly purr imagining what that arm would feel like around your throat, while he pounds you from behind. He gazes down at you with a knowing look.

"Me? Oh, I would never."

You look up at him and play with the collar of your shirt, successfully drawing his eyes to the generous amount of cleavage your uniform provides.

He huffs in amusement.

"They don't seem to think so."

He tilts his head and massive horns towards the two tables you just left where the occupants are all peering over one another to see the interaction between you and the bovine beast in front of you.

You scoff, take his arm and turn him around so that he's only focusing on you.

"I'm off. You're off in 15...maybe you could come by my place again....or something?"

You nervously bite your lip and he doesn't know why you're getting nervous.

You weren't nervous when you sent him that video of your stuffed cunt clenching around the Minotaur themed dildo you've had since before you were seeing eachother. You definitely weren't nervous when you sent him another video 6 hours ago of you stuffing said dildo into your perfect pussy in the employee bathrooms before slipping your tiny panties on over it, keeping the silicone deep in your cunt.

He pulls out his keys and leans down closer to you,

"Be ready when I get to the car."

You nearly squeal in excitement as you grab the keys and reach up to kiss his cheek. As you skip out the door to his car he looks back at the two tables just to revel a little in the disappointed grumbles and huffs emitting from the two groups as they go back to their drinks.

𓄀

[sissa-arrows]

The way stores get caught lying all the fucking time about fruits and vegetables…

Carrefour says that the dates come from Algeria. Except Algeria doesn’t produce Medjoul dates (we make Deglet Noor) so it is impossible that these dates come from Algeria. You know who export Medjoul dates to France? Morocco and “Israel”. Mainly “Israel”. So once again a French store is caught lying to avoid the boycott and to support the occupation of Palestine and the genocide of Palestinians without consequences.

(Reminder that Carrefour is a target of BDS so we’re boycotting regardless of their lies)

Again caught lying. This time it’s Auchan. The poster with the price says the avocados come from Portugal except the box says “Israel”.

In the video this time in Lidl you can see that the store says the avocados are from Columbia. Except at the person show it on the video the tag says “Origin: Israel”

Regarding avocados especially they lie all the fucking time. I actually stopped buying them because of the constant lies and because even in other countries it’s often produced at the expense of the local population using too much water to satisfy the needs of the West.

Either way I would suggest being super careful look at the box and tags not just what the store tells you. And if you live in France know that this is illegal and you can report all those instances to the DGCCRF (here). If you live elsewhere I suggest looking for the legislation and reporting those lies if you can.

Edit: if you know your local/national agency to report these kind of stuff don’t hesitate to share the link you can even send the agency name (not a link I’m not opening random anon links) in anon if you’re more comfortable and I’ll add it to the post.

[vague-humanoid]

@startorrent02 @quasi-normalcy

Abstract

We assessed the distribution of SARS-CoV-2 at autopsy in 22 deceased persons with confirmed COVID-19. SARS-CoV-2 was found by PCR (2/22, 9.1%) and by culture (1/22, 4.5%) in skull sawdust, suggesting that live virus is present in tissues postmortem, including bone. Occupational exposure risk is low with appropriate personal protective equipment.

COVID autopsies also show evidence of the SARS-CoV-2 virus persisting throughout the body, including in the colon, the thorax, muscles, nerves, the reproductive tract, and the eye. In some cases, remnants of the virus showed up in the brain of a deceased patient 230 days after their first initial symptoms.

Some studies even suggest an infection of the SARS-CoV-2 virus can 'reawaken' other dormant viruses in the body, like the Epstein barr virus, which has been linked to chronic fatigue syndrome/myalgic encephalomyelitis (CFS/ME).

[storiesfromgaza]

We are witnessing another massacre happening now

The occupation army contacted the director of Al-Shifa Hospital by sending a threatening message. The director of the hospital responded, stating that there are no resistance members in the hospital and that it is a civilian hospital providing care for the wounded and displaced.

Now, the occupation forces have cut off all communication around Al-Shifa Hospital in Gaza in preparation for the ongoing massacre. A true massacre is happening at Al-Shifa Hospital - intrusion and entry of vehicles, sniper bullets targeting those present, silencing their voices from the world!

Journalist Osama Al-Kahlout commented on the situation at Al-Shifa Hospital: "The occupation army is firing directly at medical teams inside Al-Shifa Hospital, with snipers targeting doctors. There are fears of the compound being stormed."

This is the latest video we received from Al-Shifa Hospital, documenting what happened during the occupation's shelling.

It's worth noting that the hospital houses a large number of patients, including infants and newborns.

After the Pentagon's statements and its incitement against the Al-Shifa Medical Complex, we are facing extremely difficult hours. the American statement gave a green light for the terrorist army to commit massacres against innocent people, the hospital, its wounded, patients, and medical staff.

The occupation fervently attempts to portray Al-Shifa Hospital as the focal point of its war on Gaza, suggesting that the 'fall of the hospital' signifies the complete collapse of Gaza. However, this is not merely for capturing images, and then the Zionists returning to their homes; it serves two dangerous purposes:

Boosting the morale of the Zionists and Americans, implying that the occupation army is achieving successes, giving Netanyahu and his army more time in Gaza.

Pushing the Palestinian people and their supporters into despair and frustration, raising the white flag with the belief that 'everything is over with the fall of the hospital.'

We must clearly see through this game and not be deceived. Hamas has never claimed that the hospital is strategically or politically important; it has consistently stated that it is just a hospital providing essential humanitarian services. Hamas has even invited international institutions to enter the hospital and verify its nature.

The hospital holds no significance in the balance of war or the developments in military events. Do not let them exploit and demoralize you for nothing."

So always remember that regardless of the images the occupation broadcasts to justify its crimes against the Al-Shifa Hospital, keep in mind the following: there is no military activity originating from this place; it is solely a hospital. Israel and America have decided to designate it as a military target