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The Jodi! and Vaani for Femina.



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How will Iran answer the US withdrawal from The Iran Nuclear Deal & designation of the Iranian Revolutionary Guard as a terrorist organization? Iran Attacks by @ colbenjamin. shortstories Iran IranDeal IranNuclearDeal IARTG ASMSG Kindle







song from breaks all the previous YouTube records! 20M+ Views in 24 Hours Fastest to reach 100K 200K 300K 400K 500K 650K Likes 👍 Records have been shattered! 🔥 9 Days To War 💥💥




And here it is! gets 100K interests on BMS with 9 days still left for the release!! Expecting a storm at boxoffice on Gandhi Jayanti 💥






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Black Dragon (battleship new Jersey) breathes fire in the Gulf of Tonkin, September-October 1968. 8 tons of fire and metal flew to the land of Vietnam.

theguardian.com
Keira Knightley: ‘Iraq was the first time I’d been politically engaged’
The actor talks about Official Secrets, in which she plays Katharine Gun, the whistleblower who tried to stop the Iraq war
By Tim Adams
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When the big march happened, I was in America shooting Pirates of the Caribbean and feeling utterly stupid that I was in a pirate costume and all my mates were on an anti-war march. … For my generation it was the first time that we had been really politically engaged - and it didn’t change anything. There was disillusionment after that. … Look where we are now. The questions we have about government and accountability go back to that. Why are politicians who lie not held to account? The script made me think hard about that.

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Keira Knightley as Katharine Gun in Official Secrets. Photograph: Ifc Films/Allstar

ashensanity  asked:

Hi yes in the rain, life or death, roceit for the kiss prompt please (im an angst hoe so this sounds perfect)

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A/N: Prompts here! Don’t forget to check out my collab fic with @probablynothumanish called The Dark Prince.

His heart pounded. Is this really how it ended? In chaos, the sky storming down on them unrelentingly, and without the chance to have just told him— even once— how he felt.

“Your majesty please!” The other cried. He stood close to his side in the throne room, wanting to reach out and grip him tight, but having the practiced, suave restraint that revealed none of what he was feeling, keeping him entirely still with perfect posture.

He blinked. Right. “Send them in three flanks and make sure the wall is fully occupied. Give them everything we’ve got. And Dante?” Dante was his advisor and ex war-general.

He looked at him with steely determination and loyalty. “Yes, Prince Roman?”

“Prepare my horse.”

“You can’t! It’s not safe!” he cried in protest, walls briefly crumbling. But he knew he had to— the armies approached closer and closer with every passing second.

His prince gave him a sad look, furrowing his eyebrows, and going back to his maps. He didn’t have time to put his armor on, so he’d have to go in without. Dante bit his lip, turning and rushing away to make the preparations, stomach churning more aggresively than it’d ever had before. This was it. They were too powerful. He’d lose his lo— his prince.

***

“The gods are angry,” Roman noted, chuckling sadly, and gazing into the advisor’s mis-matched eyes. He fixed his blonde hair away from his face, the downpour soaking them both. They stood beside their horses, everyone else already gone to fight, leaving them alone in the world. He knew how this would go… They’d ride off without a word, the horses would slip in the mud, the swords would clash and armor scrape, and it would end in blood and with his affections unsaid. Unless…

Dante nodded. They stood immeasurably close, each with a hand gripped tight around leather reigns, while Roman’s other was tender against his forehead. He had to hold onto that hope, for if there was any chance it was true, he’d rather die with the possibility of being hated than for his love to never be known, especially if it was reciprocated. “Your majesty, you know I hold you in high regard…” he began.

“I do,” he murmured in reply. They had to go soon— should be going now, but he couldn’t just leave things like this. His advisor seemed to hesitate in what he said, and the urgency mixed with the biggest ‘fuck it’ he’d ever experienced drove him to let his hand slip to the back of Dante’s head to pull him forward.

Their lips collided more fiercely than swords, and if the prince were to survive this day, it wouldn’t be remembered by the victory of the battle, but his triumph over Dante. Water rolled down both of their noses and dripped from their hair. Dante wasn’t pulling away; he was pressing forward, tilting his head to gain better access to a wet set of lips, and he was making Roman’s heart soar. More reluctantly than anything in his life, he broke away.

“Was that okay?” he whispered breathlessly.

“No.” But the dizzy grin said otherwise, and they swung up onto their mounts, riding off into battle with something new to fight for.

Each other.

@ashensanity @cuter-on-the-inside @abbyisconfused @n4o5r7a9 @omni-hamiltrash @fandomsofrandom @pale-baguette @zoeybean2 @mason-does-a-thing @withspaces @anyelram841 @yep-another-fander @strangecreatureyoucantidentify @fandom-trash-304 @chelsvans @nomejodasb @iampengwing @neonb-fly @analogical-mess @midnight-tragedyy @idosanderssidespromptssometimes @athenashipsthings @thgjclw @littleladynightshade @i-am-the-hero-alfred-jones @icequeenoriginal @casuallyimpossibledream @justafangirl242 @stop-it-anxiety @hekking-happy-nonsense @comicsimpson @logical-boo-ry @slutforketchup @sanderrsidess

(I accidentally deleted my official master taglist, so please let me know if you’d like to be removed.)

During Word War II, the Imperial Japanese Navy used Kaiten submarines, which were the torpedo equivalent to kamikaze pilots. Kaiten subarines were manned torpedoes that would engage in suicide attacks on enemy ships.

They were relatively ineffective and there are only three confirmed successful kaiten attacks in the Pacific theater.

2

IRAQ. Mosul. 2018. Nour, 10, lost 19 members of her family and was badly wounded in a suicide bombing.

Nour, a brown-haired 10-year-old whose favorite game used to be pretending to be a princess, stopped playing make-believe in July of last year, when she lost 19 members of her family as they tried to escape Mosul’s besieged Old City, where the Islamic State was making its last stand.

Her parents, relatives and neighbors had decided to leave their makeshift bomb shelters where they had been cowering for days and run for the safety of the Iraqi Army lines. As they dodged bullets and stumbled through mounds of rubble, an Islamic State suicide bomber ran at them and detonated her bomb.

Nour remembers being blown into the air, but nothing else. Her parents, her little sister, six cousins, six aunts and uncles and her grandmother were killed.

Her surviving relatives, a 63-year-old great-aunt and her 21-year-old married sister, found her at a field hospital, where an American military medic had saved her life. They took her, frail and bandaged, to her aunt’s home.

But her family had no way to nurse the painful scars across her face, hands and arms, or the emotional pain she carried. Nour had second- and third-degree burns from her fingertips to her elbows and across her cheeks, as well as severe nerve damage in both hands.

Her great-aunt, Sukaina Muhammad, who lost her husband in the same blast, makes ends meet with food parcels from a local charity. She spent the family’s meager life savings on two surgical operations to help Nour regain the use of her arms, but she cannot afford reconstructive surgery.

This spring, they enrolled her in school, hoping a regular routine would help her cope with her withdrawal and sadness. In her first week in class, her classmates and teachers laughed at the claw-like appearance of her burned hands.

“Can you imagine anything as cruel as that?” her aunt asked.

Nour stopped going to class. She now spends her day helping her great-aunt with household chores. Her favorite toy is a stuffed Mickey Mouse.

She prefers that over the pretty dolls her cousins have.

“It’s hard to pretend like that,” she said. “I’m not beautiful like them.”

[x]

Photographs: Andrea DiCenzo for The New York Times

Writing Prompt 027

HEALERS II

Special thanks to @mottinthemainpot, @for-the-love-of-angst and @clockworknightmares who have contributed their thoughts and intriguing ideas to this prompt list, couldn’t have done this without them. :)

Turns out that this list is a little too long for my liking so stay tuned for part three and possibly a part four.

Continuation of HEALERS I 

TW: implied death, illness, injuries, minor whump

Perhaps there’s a school that houses Healers. They raise and train children who have healing powers, assigning them various medical jobs for their future. With that comes with the discussions and rumours. Student Healers predicting what jobs they and their friends would get in the future. 

Noting that weaker Healers usually end up with easier jobs such as a school nurse in a school or a Healer tending to elderlies in an old folks’ home, some stronger Healers hide their talent to avoid getting assigned to tougher jobs. Jobs which included but are not limited to War Healers, Emergency Healers; working in hospitals and Healers who work alone in a village slump, tending to the sick and injured. 

That being said, with word getting around the school at some Healers hide their talent, the school rewards students who snitch on their classmates, promising them a better future, perhaps letting them visit their family. So out of the fear of taking on harsher jobs, students start ratting out their enemies, maybe some, even their friends. 

On a fluffy side, Healers as vets! Caring for animals. On the not so bright side, Healers experiencing illnesses and pains that only affects the animals. 

Imagine Healers getting assigned to facilities such as a hospital or clinic, having to take on all sorts of patients everyday. They take on so much illness without a break that they end up falling sick themselves on top of the illnesses that they are already dealing with from healing their patients. Getting ill and quite possibly denied medication since they are supposed to be able to cure themselves.

Imagine the Healer just graduating and immediately getting assigned as a War Healer. Having to pack right away and part from their family and friends not even sure if they’ll ever make it back. Breaking down silently alone in the bathroom unable to do that in public. Not when they are viewed as a national treasure, a war hero. They can’t lean on their peers either. Not when their peers are just relieved to escape getting picked to be a War Healer.  

Serving in the war, the Healer get weaker, burning themselves out. Perhaps they even loss the ability to heal and are tossed aside, out in the war zone left to fend for themselves, vulnerable and possibly on the brink of death. Perhaps another War Healer comes by to heal them so they even out the pain. But knowing it’s more practical to reserve their energy, some Healers deny the dying Healer any form of help and leave them out to die. 

But fret not! For there is always hope in times of trouble. Maybe our dying War Healer is rescued by the civilians they kind heartedly helped and protected from the enemy. They get patched up by the civilians, kept hidden and as safe as possible. Children bringing them water, helping the village doctor/ parent tend to the Healer. 

War Healers who make back alive are often in worse shape than when they left. Coming back battered and possibly ill, looking worse off than the soldiers. Traumatised and shell shocked, they lose the ability to heal and are mocked for it, not recognised for their efforts in the war.

Perhaps they do get some recognition and retire to work in the school that trained them. Their heart breaks watching reckless Healers making a competition out of their healing. They get annoyed at snobby Healers who would only give their services to people who can pay and they are especially furious at those who sell out their fellow Healers. Perhaps the retired Healer was sold out which contributed to their current fate.

غنى قبل رحيله “وبعون ربك يا مصر تردين طاغوت العصر.. من غيرك حزام الظهر؟” وبالأمس انتفضت #مصر بثورة جديدة بوجه الطاغية مرة أخرى في #ميدان_التحرير #ارحل_يا_سيسي
المسجد الأموي، دمشق القديمة في 21/09/2019
Omayyed Mosque, Old Damascus on 21/09/2019

IRAQ. Mosul. 2018. Maram, 9, and Rayam, 12, at home. The girls’ father, a member of the Iraqi security forces, was killed by the Islamic State in 2014.

No Iraqi government agency or international humanitarian group has comprehensive statistics on the number of children orphaned since the summer of 2014, when the Islamic State took over a third of the country, and December 2017, when the Iraqi government won back its major towns and cities from the extremists.

Photograph: Andrea DiCenzo for The New York Times

Un lampo del cielo illumina la strada,

Due donne camminan in fretta,

Una macchina arriva di soppiatto

Ecco c'è anche un gatto;


Impauriti dal dí di pioggia

Portan con sé l'amaro ricordo

Di un triste e andato fiordo

In cui l'acqua conciliava due fiumi


Uno bianco a uno rosso

Di due guerre portatrici

Senza piú bombe o armi mortali

Rimasero quei poveri soldati inanimati.

flickr

Museum of Independence by Farruk Bhuiyan
Via Flickr:
Museum of Independence Dhaka , Bangladesh