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ichijager13 · 7 months

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Back to You

Pairing: Eren Jäger x Reader

Audience: general.

CW: None.

Tags: Historical, WWI, German Eren, Older and long-haired Eren, Married couple, Established relationship.

Summary: Shortly before the end of WWI and the armistice, reader received a letter informing her of her husband's death. Months gone by and one day, she received another letter.

WC: 1,6k-ish

A/N: Hi, hi, been a while since I last wrote and posted something. I hope you enjoy this story.

Banner by @cafekitsune

Standing in the middle of the backyard of your house, ready to chop a couple chairs, you prayed those were going to be the last ones. Shifting the axe you sharpened a few days ago from one hand to another, you were about to start the unpleasant task when you spotted the mailman’s curved silhouette. You put down the tool before wrapping a shawl around you.

March was already here, but you could still feel the sting of Bavaria’s harsh and cold winter. Massaging your lethargic, sore, and calloused hands—those same hands Eren, your beloved, used to kiss and compliment—you made your way toward the middle-aged man.

“Guten tag, Frau Jäger. I’ve got mail for you.” He smiled kindly at you, handing you an envelope with multiple stamps of all shapes and colors. Afraid the rain that had been drizzling since the morning would ruin it, you thanked him and pocketed the letter.

He was about to leave when you heard Frau Braun talking. Both standing near the broken and rusted gate leading to the farmhouse, you silently watched the neighbor embrace her husband, Reiner, and her son, who had come back from the west front. Her voice was heavy with emotion as she bombarded them with all sorts of questions.

The mailman’s pale blue eyes traveled back and forth between them and your tired and frail figure. The past year was particularly hard, and the armistice the government signed made it even harder.

He gave you a tight-lip, empathic smile before touching the tip of his discolored hat and leaving.

Back in the backyard, you picked up the axe and were about to resume work. You could still hear the Braun’s muffled voices as they made their way home. Feeling overwhelmed, you let the axe fall and tightly hugged yourself, hoping it would stop your body from shaking. Frau Braun was a considerate and caring woman. She had always been here for you during the four years the war lasted, especially after what happened. You were sincerely happy for her. She deserved to be happy after losing two kids to tuberculosis. You were genuinely happy for all those who managed to escape the shadows death cast over Europe during the past four years, but...

The abundant tears traveling down your face burned against your cheeks and blue-colored quivering lips. Falling to your knees, you pressed your trembling hands to your ears, hoping to be shielded from their happiness. Happiness that you couldn’t share since, unlike your neighbor and many other families around, you had no one to wait for. Unlike Reiner and their son, your husband, Eren, wasn’t coming back home.

You inhaled deeply, trying to calm down, but all you could think of was that doomed day. That doomed letter the same mailman delivered to you a year ago, announcing Eren’s death in the east front.

Letter…

You suddenly remembered the one you received minutes ago. You quickly tore the envelope and waited until your vision was clear enough. With shaking hands, you scanned the piece of paper you were holding in your hand.

“Dearest wife,

I apologize for not being able to write to you and respond to your letters. I apologize for this long absence and the tormenting silence I imposed on you, my love.

"This... this can’t be,” you mumbled, checking the envelope once again as you took a seat.

I spent the past year in a Russian camp, and unfortunately, we weren’t’ authorized to write to our families and beloveds.

It took the German and Austro-Hungarian empires a while to convince the Russian government to release their POWs.

You tried to contain your sobs and conjure yourself to calm down and breathe, but couldn’t. How could you get a hold of yourself when the words, ‘ But it’s all over now. I’m coming back home to you, my love.’ danced in front of your tear-filled eyes. “He’s not dead,” you repeated, like a broken record, as if you were trying to convince someone that your husband is still alive. “He’s alive. Eren is live.”

I’m currently sitting on the train on my way to you, my love, while writing this letter. I’m going to post it at the next stop in hopes it will reach you before my arrival.

I have tried in previous drafts to describe how much I long for you. How I miss the tone of your soothing voice and the echo of your contagious laugh. Not a single day passed by without me craving your soft touch and dreaming of taking you in my arms. Every night, I close my eyes and go back to that day—the day you said yes. You looked dazzling in that cream-colored dress your cousin lent you. There are not enough words to describe how lonely the past year felt without your letter. I spent most of my nights rereading the ones I had received before until I learned them by heart. Reading your letters, I could picture you sitting near the fireplace or under that big spruce tree in the backyard of our house.

You stared at the spots of faded ink your teardrops created as you read the letter over and over.

I owe my survival to your kind words.

That line made you burst into tears as you hugged the letter.

I’m trying not to think about the humiliation the German army and people are enduring after our defeat. I’m trying not to think of all those not coming back home—those who lost a leg, an arm, or an eye. I’m trying not to think about homeless and hungry people. I’m blocking all of these thoughts and focusing only on one thing. the feeling of my lovely wife’s body pressed against mine and the taste of your lips against mine. It would be selfish to celebrate coming back home when I have nothing to offer you, when people are still dying and suffering from the sequels of war and disease.

You had no idea what you were doing here. But something inside told you you must run to the train station, and you chose not to question or second guess your instinct. Out of breath, you stood in the middle of the crowded station’s platform, your eyes wandering and scanning hollowed faces and heavy eyes surrounded by dark circles. Lost, and panting, you studied those stepping out of the train, searching for a particular face. One that you fell in love with seven years ago.

Today and during this journey back home, the only thing I’m thinking about is you and all the stories I want to share with you. The only thing I have in mind is your delicate and beautiful hands running along my hair as your soft voice lulls me to sleep.

You elbowed and passed by people reunited with their sons, brothers, fathers, partners, and lovers. You gradually made your way into a sea of unknown faces, hoping this wasn’t a dream.

I hope that even after all these years apart, you will still be able to recognize me. I’m sincerely praying to God, or whoever was willing to listen, that when you look into my eyes, you’ll still be able to see and recognize the man who fell in love with you. I hope that war hasn’t stolen the light behind your eyes. And I hope that the distance between us and the nights I spent away didn’t tear us apart.

Feeling disoriented and lost, you pressed both palms against your beating heart and prayed.

I hope the spark that ignited our love the first time our gazes locked near that bookstore downtown is still alive.

And there he was, standing on the other side of the railing, looking at you. He looked different, but the instant your eyes met, you knew it was him. the only man you loved, the man you vowed to remain by his side until death tore you apart, the man you spent months praying for.

My love, I want you to know that the time I spent away from home made that fire burn brighter and the love I have for you grow deeper.

He jumped and came running to you.

I believe in our love and that we are meant to be, and I’m positive that together we will be able to overcome all the obstacles and hardships. With you by my side, my love, I can do everything.

Without second thought, you threw yourself into his arms, burying your face in the crook of his neck. His arms looped around you, pressing your small body against his. A minute passed by before you pulled away, inspecting his face. He had lost a lot of weight and his emerald eyes had lost their gleam. You ran your hands through his soft chestnut hair before you commented, laughing, “A shoelace? Really?”

“Is that all you have to say to your husband?” He taunted you before your lips met. The kiss was soft but passionate, loving but impatient. Just like you, every cell of his body was aching for you, missing you. Your lips were still sealed; you both lost track of time and forgot the world ever existed.

“I missed you,” you breathed, resting your forehead against his as your tears ran down your cheek.

“It’s over now, my love. I’m here.” He pecked your temple before chasing away your tears. “Let’s go back home.”

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loulouwrites · 1 month

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PROSE . ALFIE SOLOMONS

summary: alfie found comfort in her letters during his darkest moments, even if they were never meant for him warnings: angst, war, death, ptsd, a bit of politics, happy ending, unedited for now word count: 2.2k a/n: a short lil story x

Lieutenant Adam Weiss would read those letters over and over, a smile on his muddy face whenever he pulled the envelopes from his pockets, almost as if the words made him forget where he was.

The letters were creased and the envelopes were worn, mud caked the sides and gritty fingerprints decorated the edges from where he would run his hand down the pages. Some of the letters were longer than others, ranging from one page to four, front and back.

Captain Alfie Solomons watched the boy pull out a fresh letter, amazed he received so many. Delivering letters to frontline soldiers was not a priority in the war, nor should it be, men waited months for notes from their family, but somehow, Adam always received his - he must have been the luckiest lad in France.

People didn't write to Alfie.

His parents were long gone, his sisters had husbands they would rather scribble away to, and the few friends he had were scattered throughout Europe, fighting the same fight he was - one none of them quite understood.

Adam's smile felt like an assault on the captain, the grin he wore reminiscent of a time before, a time that didn't exist anymore. The lieutenant had never shared who the letters were from, he kept them tucked into his breast pocket, only pulling them out when everybody else was busied with other, more important tasks.

"Who's writing you these letters?" Alfie asked the boy, trying to stretch his legs the best he could in the cramped quarters below ground.

Adam's grin faded from his face, and he shrugged non-committally, tucking the letter away.

"Just a girl I know," he said, face bashful.

"A girl you know," Alfie nodded. He was surprised he had never met Adam before the war, they were both raised in the same area, both Jewish, of a similar age, yet their paths had never crossed. "A pretty girl?"

"Just a girl," Adam scowled, crossing his arms across his chest.

The sound of gunfire interruped whatever Alfie was about to say next.

Lieutenant Adam Weiss succumbed to injuries sustained in the battlefield two weeks before the armistice was signed. He died at the age of 24, with a hole in his head, and even more in the chest.

Alfie didn't feel much when he died, there had been so much death that he feared he had become immune to it, and he was never particularly close to the man. Yet, it didn't stop him from taking the letters from the dead man's pocket before his body was dragged away.

He had no intention of reading the letters that were now kept in his own breast pocket, he wasn't even sure why he took them in the first place, but the weight of them comforted him.

More letters arrived the day after Adam died, a small envelope addressed to him at the bottom of the pile, and Alfie took that one too, snatching it from the boy who delivered them before he could question it.

It was a lot quieter these days, men were being picked off one by one, and those that were still alive, found little to talk about. At first, they would joke about finally being away from their wives, or make lewd comments about the nurses, but now, there was nothing, it was if they couldn't remember their lives before.

Alfie opened the letter before he could stop himself, the cursive handwriting was so neat, not a word had been crossed out, suggesting the author had taken their time with every word, possibly rewriting it completely whenever she made a mistake, a showing of her care, not just for the letters, but for Adam too.

He carefully read the well wishes and pleasantries. The one page letter was not particularly engaging or poetic, but the talk of day to day life in London was comforting to Alfie in the most painful way.

His eyes led to the bottom of the page, where the writing got slightly messy, and the words were slanted more than they were in the beginning.

Revolution is in the air, and peace is on the horizon. You will be home soon, hopefully before the month draws to a close, and we will celebrate your birthday together, as we have always done.

The slaughter will end, and you will be home.

Your dearest, and only friend.

She didn't sign it, there was no need to, he supposed, the letter was not for him, it was for the boy dead on the battlefield, and he already knew her name.

Alfie scoffed as he reread her words.

The slaughter will end.

Bullshit.

The armistice was signed less than two weeks later. The girl from the letters was right, the slaughter had ended and peace had come - though the men returning were forever changed.

Alfie wondered whether word about Adam had reached her, it should have by now. He considered tracking her down and telling her himself, he was the boy's captain, after all, but he had no fight in him to search for a nameless girl in London - he was tired.

The journey to London was long, they had heard them like cattle onto boats and trains, the men silently sitting in their misery, no celebration to be had.

The time allowed Alfie to read the other letters he had been carrying. He read them in no particular order, skimming through the cursive writing, more to distract himself from the sadness filling the train carriage, than anything else.

Mr Feldman brought me flowers again, he thinks I'm his dead wife.

Your mother came over for shabbat, she cried a lot.

I still go to the bakery we used to go after school, the bread isn't as nice now that Issaac isn't there to make it.

James proposed to me - again. It is the fifth time I have declined. He doesn't understand why I have no intention to marry a ten year old.

The girl talked a lot about what was happening at home, Alfie appreciated that, other than well wishes and the odd scathing political rant, she rarely mentioned the war, the men reading letters didn't need reminding of the war, the needed to be reminded of home.

Life returned to a new normal in the years following the war. Alfie was able to forget the war better than most, maybe because the violence didn't end for him. He went from a war in France to a war in London, and he enjoyed every minute of it.

Tensions rose, men died, and Alfie survived - as it was, as it always would be.

He sat in his office a lot, when everybody had left for the day, he would pull out the stack of letters from the second drawer of his desk, and read them over again, as if he couldn't recite them word for word at his point.

He had a favourite, one that was now more creased than the others, and had more bends in the edges, read far more often than others.

I had an argument with my mother, again. I shall not bore you with the details, but I am certain the war will end soon, that the trend sweeping the East will come here and you shall return home.

We will go to Abraham's bakery the day you step off the train and eat the pineapple cake you like so much, we will then go to Finsbury Gardens and spend the rest of the day there, and we shall end the day at the pub, I haven't been allowed in without my male companion.

May you remain safe and well, and may you return home soon.

Your only and closest friend.

The girl was not a particularly poetic writer, yet Alfie was more enthralled by her prose than he ever had been by Shakespeare or Austin, because alone in the dark of his office, he could lie to himself, and believe those letters were for him.

He fiddled with the papers in his hand as he stood outside of the bakery. It had just opened, and people ushered in and out, their eyes avoiding his.

He had built quite the reputation for himself upon his return.

The bell above the door dinged when he walked in, and the lady at the counter looked away from the customer she was serving to wave at him.

He hovered behind the girl in front as she chatted to the woman, laughing and pointing to various cakes and pastries.

"Sir?" The woman waved a hand up and down to get his attention, and Alfie snapped out of whatever daze he was in, clearing his throat out of embarrassment.

"Urm...yeah," he muttered, looking down at the paper in his hands. He could recite this letter word for word, why couldn't he remember the cake now?

The baker and customer watched him as his eyes flickered to the page and back up to smile apologetically at them.

"I can help," the girl smiled at him, holding a hand out for the letter. "I'm a good reader."

She thought he couldn't fucking read.

"I can read," he defended, and she held her hands up jokingly. His eyes skimmed the words, failing to find the one he needed.

What kind of fucking cake was it?

And why did he even fucking care?

"For fuck's sake," he muttered, holding the letter out to the girl. "There's a type of cake in there, can you find it?"

She let out a small laugh as she took the paper with a smile on her face. He watched as she began to read it thoughtfully, her smile slowly dropping from her face and her eyebrows pulled together. Her head snapped up, and she held the letter up, a scowl on her face.

"Where did you get this?" Her tone wasn't something Alfie could place, a mixture between shock and confusion, and something else entirely.

He was never one to be lost for words, but he couldn't string a sentence together for the life of him, what the fuck was happening?

He must have been quiet for too long, because the girl fled the bakery, brushing his shoulder as she pushed past him, the letter still in her hand.

His favourite letter.

His body reacted quicker than his brain did, and he rushed after her, jogging to catch up with her as she stormed down the street.

"Oi," he called out when he was close enough for her to hear, "give me my fuckin' letter back."

She stopped in her tracks, spinning around to face him, pushing a hand to his chest when he was close enough to touch.

"It is not your letter," she spat. "Where did you get it?"

"The fuck are you chattin' about? You stole it from me."

"And you stole it from Adam," the girl shrieked, turning to storm away again, but Alfie was faster, grabbing her arm to stop her.

"Fuckin' hell," he smiled despite himself. "You're the girl from the letters."

"Who the fuck are you?" She cried, pulling her arm out of his grip.

"My name is Alfie Solomons," he held his arms out in defense, watching as her eyes widened at his introduction.

He really did have a reputation.

"I was Adam's captain in France," he reached down to take the letter from her hand, and she didn't put up a fight when he pulled it from her grip. "I took the letters off Adam when he died."

"Why?" She whispered, tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

"Couldn't tell ya, love," he shrugged. "Maybe because they made him very happy."

Her face scrunched up as if she were in pain at his words, and she breathed a deep breath to quell the tears in her eyes.

"They made him happy?" She breathed out, Alfie nodding in confirmation.

"It was annoying, really," he joked. "They made me happy too, even if I did steal 'em."

She huffed a laugh in response, dabbing at her eyes with her gloved hands before gesturing to letter he now held in his hands.

"Keep it," she sighed. "It was pineapple cake, by the way."

She went to turn away, but Alfie spoke before she could.

"Tell me to fuck off if you want, but would you fancy goin' to Finsbury Gardens?"

She looked at him blankly, and Alfie was certain she was going to say no, to tell him to fuck off with his letter and leave her alone.

"Okay," she nodded eventually. "But only if you take me to the pub after, I need a new male companion."

"It'd be my pleasure, love."

#alfie solomons fanfiction #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons x reader #peaky blinders imagine #alfie solomons fanfic

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qsycomplainsalot · 1 year

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“See you later for the next one” “Wtf no”

Happy Armistice Day y’all.

#picture #art #drawing #ww1 #armistice day

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duncandonuts06 · 6 months

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Happy Armistice Day!!! I haven't drawn much recently- been dealing with artblock. But I did manage to draw our Little Treasure celebrating the Centennial end of the War To End All Wars. Isn't he handsome in his poppies? The girls who know, know.

I did use a brush for his wreath because drawing a million flowers by hand was- too much for me this time LOL. Enjoy this small offering. I shall return with more art soon.

#ttte oc: schatzi #ttte #ttte fanart #thomas the tank engine #thomas and friends #narrow gauge #ttte oc #ttte oc art #trengine #trench locomotive #ww1 au #ww1 #wwi #world war one #poppies #armistice day #first world war #lest we forget

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grandlovescheme · 6 months

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Daemyra fics recs ❤️

It's been a while since I gave you some recs, so let's go through my current list of favorites. You probably know most of them but some might be brand new to people, and we have to change that! I hope you'll enjoy them as much as I do :)

ain't nobody hurt you like i hurt you by luthien_under_bough

Absolutely love this one. Both Daemon and Rhaenyra are kind of messed up and they absolutely deserve each other. No one else could handle them at their crazy. Check the tags before starting it but if it's not to your tastes try anything by this author, their writing is superb and they have bunch of original unhinged ideas that I just love 🩷 Edit: this fic is now completed!!

beautiful child by sinofthetimes

This fic only just started but I'm already obsessed. It has darker themes so again, definitely check the tags, but if you're not scared of some angst before a happy ending, give it a shot! The author's other works are also amazing (I looove crimson water), the writing is so flowery and makes you see it in front of you like a movie! 🖤 Edit: this fic was previously called back to black

Sucker Love by Cleoandfrank

I mean, Cruel Intentions siblings au?!? Yum. We have 2 chapters so far and it's completely delicious. Daemyra are their usual unhinged selves and we love to see it. Give it a try if you love drama 🧡

Armistice by ginvael

Try literally anything by this author and you'll have a great time. I love this fic especially though, mostly because of the magic system we're learning about... and the amazing slow burn that makes me giggle and kick my feet every chapter. It's chef's kiss, and it's about to get even hotter! 💛

hold the light given unto you by calenlily

Once again, this author is a gift that keeps on giving. I love all of their stories, but this one is the most recent one and it is finished, for those who find that detail important. It is delicious canonverse, married Daemyra goodness to make your days better, give it a shot! 💙

me everytime i see any of these fics/authors update

#daemyra fic #daemon x rhaenyra #daemyra fanfic #hotd fic #daemyra fic recs #hotd fic recs #fic recommendation #daemyra

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tinyozlion · 4 months

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--The Gundam Wing Drinking Game! (*you don’t actually have to drink)--

Happy Eve War Armistice Day, everyone! As we all gather around the warmth of a flickering screen with friends, family, or discord buddies to celebrate the beginning of True Peace between Earth and the Space Colonies-- WHICH WILL SURELY LAST FOREVER-- why not play a little festive anime parlor game? This can be played with beverages, snacks, points, or the penalty/reward system of your choice!

THE CLASSICS— take ONE any time:

1) Someone shouts: "IT’S A GUNDAM!" or "THAT’S A GUNDAM!" 2) Magical Gundam Transformation Sequence 3) The BFG: the buster rifle beam canon does what it does best. 4) Relena Yells At The Clouds 5) "Omae o korosu!": Heero threatens to kill someone and then doesn’t. 6) THAT'S SO FETCH: Duo calls himself the God of Death or says one of his catchphrases. 7) BOOBY TRAPPED: Heavyarms fires its chest missiles. 8) SAFETY FIRST: Quatre wears his goggles. 9) GO-GO-GADGET: Wufei uses the dragon claw extendo-arm.

THE SPECIALS— take TWO whenever the following occurs: 1) A fruit or vegetable is given meaningful screen time. 2) Episode title is the opposite of what occurs in the episode. 3) VA Hall of Shame: a voice actor fumbles a line or really chews the scenery. 4) This Is Big Nose: An impossibly silly military call sign is used. 5) Someone with Special Eyebrows conveys normal information in a straightforward way. 6) FOUND FAMILY: The Maganac Corps shows up to save the day. 7) Bee-bee-bee-bee-bee-bee-bee!

SING ALONG AT HOME— you MUST CHANT whenever:

1) KAIJU SHOT! KAIJU SHOT! a mobile suit looms into view of a window and horrified onlookers. 2) CRAB! CRAB! CRAB! CRAB! any time you see a MS Cancer or its aquatic friend group. 3) CLOWN! CLOWN! CLOWN! CLOWN! any time you see a clown. 4) HEEEEEEROOOOOO: you know what to do. *Stackable with article 1 section 4. 5) PUSH THE BUTTON FRANK: an ominous button is pressed to devastating effect.

POUR ONE OUT— take TWO and go "Oooooo, YIKES!" whenever one of the following occurs:

1) Someone REALLY should have locked their mobile suit hatch. 2) One Day From Retirement: a hapless schmuck gets got immediately after giving the all clear. 3) A gross failure to correctly estimate the impact tolerance of gundanium alloy despite all documented evidence. 4) Heero takes it on the dome or otherwise hits the ground at speed. 5) Duo gets used as a punching bag. 6) The Bright Noah Special: someone gets slapped or hit in the face. 7) Brutality: A mobile suit makes direct lethal contact with a human target. 8) Red Card: a fencing move does damage to a person or their equipment. 9) The Can Opener: Something gets split in half by a beam or heat weapon. 10) Fuck This Thing In Particular: A mobile suit (or other vessel) self detonates-- *stackable with article 3 section 5. 11) Up-Skirt Shot: A mobile suit or its pilot gets an unflattering camera angle.

HALL OF FAME— FIRST ONE TO SPOT one of these gets a freebie:

1) BRAND NAME: shout the Improbable Brand Name™ featured on background signage or product. 2) QUICK CHANGE: A character somehow gets into or out of a space suit off screen with no indication how. 3) GOOD BOY ALERT: There's an animal on screen (end credits don't count). 4) THE FUTURE IS NOW: State of the Art 90's Tech in use. 5) IMPORTANT PERSON SITTING AT A DESK ON THE LEFT SIDE OF A ROOM WITH A LARGE WINDOW BEHIND THEM: An important person sits at a desk on the left side of an empty room with a large window behind them.

EXTRA CREDIT: SLAP THE TABLE and call "DID YOU KNOW" to win a chance to make the FRIEND OF YOUR CHOICE take a penalty-- IF:

1) You can correctly identify one of the main voice actors in a bit role. 2) You spot an easter egg or reference to something from Universal Century. 3) Space Physics Don't Work That Way: you can explain why physics don’t work that way in space. 4) Actually Physics DO Work That Way: you can explain the science or theories behind an element of space tech, tactics, or engineering. 5) You can name a real-world location used on a map or background shot.

Happy holidays, enjoy responsibly, and have fun! -Wesley, and to a lesser extent, Tinylion

#gundam wing #endless waltz #gundam wing drinking game #fandom fun #tinyozlion pgw #unparsable

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archiveikemen · 4 months

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Abe no Yasuchika Main Story: Loving You END

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection. I do not own any of the original content. Please support CYBIRD by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

❥･• Warnings and FAQ

The day talks about the armistice between the Shogunate, Rebel Army, and Imperial Court reached a conclusion.

Yasuchika asked me…

Yasuchika: I’m going to ask you the same thing one last time. Just tell me honestly what your choice is, you don't have to worry about me.

(Huh?)

Yasuchika: Do you want to return to Kamakura?

Yasuchika was no longer smiling.

He waited for my answer with a serious look in his eyes.

Yuno: I…

I thought hard about it before answering.

Yuno: I’d love to live in Kamakura with the other members of the Shogunate, but…

Yuno: We can still write letters to one another when we’re living apart.

Yuno: Just like how I’ve bonded with my allies at the Okura Castle, I want to foster new friendships and strengthen bonds in Kyoto too.

Yasuchika: — I see.

Yuno: Of course, with you too, Yasuchika.

(The bond between Yasuchika, Akihito, and Ibuki is a twisted one.)

(I hope that, someday, they can acknowledge one another as allies without hesitation.)

That was something that could only be achieved over time… and that was why this moment of peace was so precious.

Yuno: Erm, please don't restrain yourself from expressing that you’re concerned about me.

Yasuchika: I’m not going to, but… up till now, I’ve been trampling on and destroying your hope, so I’ll be mindful of that.

Yuno: Oh…

Yasuchika: Anyway, let’s do it this way.

Yasuchika: For as long as the armistice is still ongoing, you’re free to visit Kamakura as you please.

Yasuchika: And therefore, as a member of the Imperial Court, I will do everything in my power to maintain this peace and harmony.

Yuno: Yasuchika…

(I don't know of any promise that can be more reassuring than this one.)

Yuno: Thank you. Please allow me to help you with that too.

Yasuchika: You’ll be of great help.

Yasuchika: Just having you by my side is enough to give me the strength of a hundred men.

His gaze, as sweet as honey, made me burn up from the inside.

I covered up my embarrassment with a smile.

Yuno: I’m afraid of what might happen if you’re so sweet to me, you know?

Yasuchika: I don’t mind. I’ll take that as a challenge.

(I can tell that he meant what he just said. It's making me so incredibly happy, I’m embarrassed.)

Yasuchika: I might adore you way more than you think I do.

Yuno: Hmm… I could say the same.

Yuno: I adore y— mmph.

He planted a kiss on my hair, cutting my words off.

Yuno: W-What was that for?

Yasuchika: Hm? Because you’re adorable.

Yasuchika: A shame I didn’t get to hear you say “I adore you”, though.

Yasuchika: Can you say it again?

Yuno: I don't mind, although…

(Saying it again feels more embarrassing than the first time.)

Yuno: I adore… ah

This time, he kissed me on the lips.

Yasuchika: Oh, I couldn't hear you finish the sentence.

Yuno: Hey… you weren't listening to me in the first place, were you?

I knew that was definitely blushing bright red at that point and turned my face away…

Yasuchika: My bad, my bad. I’ll listen properly this time, so please say it again.

Yasuchika flashed me a seductive grin and brought his face closer to mine.

Our foreheads together, we gazed into each other's eyes so close up that our breaths mingled.

Yasuchika: Come on. Let me hear you say it.

Yuno: …

(This is so unfair.)

(His eyes that sparkle only for me, his gentle voice, all of it…)

Yuno: Yasuchika.

Yasuchika: Yeah?

Yuno: … I adore you a lot.

Yasuchika: … Mm-hm.

Yasuchika smiled happily and our lips met…

Yuno: Nn… mm…

His skilled tongue slid through my slightly parted lips as he caressed my hair.

Yuno: Mmph… ah…

I let out a wanton noise as his tongue stimulated the sensitive spot in my mouth.

Our kiss ended with a brief wet sound…

Yasuchika: I love you. With all my heart.

Even the way he exhaled was oozing with sensuality, making my head spin.

Yuno: … I feel like I’ll continue being messed with by you even when we’re lovers.

Yasuchika: I personally think you’re way better than me at doing that.

Yasuchika chuckled and took my hand.

Yasuchika: It’s about time we get going.

Yasuchika: There’s going to be a “welcome back” banquet for you tonight.

Yuno: Really!?

Yasuchika: Yup. I just found out about it this morning, His Majesty and Ibuki were the ones who organised it.

(I’m so happy to hear that.)

Looking forward to tonight, I tightly squeezed Yasuchika’s hand.

…

That night…

Yuno: I didn’t know Ibuki had a mansion in Kyoto!

Ibuki: Yeah.

Akihito: It’s a convenient place to hold a banquet, because it has plenty of alcohol.

We had a banquet in one of the rooms at a mansion that was located somewhere quiet.

Yasuchika: It’s fine to use Ibuki’s hideout for a banquet but…

I followed Yasuchika’s gaze to see what he was looking at…

Kurama: Oi, there isn't enough alcohol.

Tamamo: The snacks here are acceptable. As expected of Sutoku’s refined tastes.

Yasuchika: Why are Tamamo and Kurama here? It’s not that I’m not happy about their presence, though?

Tamamo: I have a contract with Yuno, of course I have the rights to attend a banquet held for her.

Kurama: I wouldn't have shown up if I knew this was Ibuki’s hideout.

Despite having said that, Kurama was filling his cup with sake and showed no intention to stop.

Kurama: Tamamo brought me here, saying that this is where the strong fighters are gathered.

Yuno: Everyone here is strong, excluding myself, so he isn't wrong to say that…

(Akihito may appear to be graceful, but he is said to be able to make use of Ibuki’s powers and his curse to use kotodama.)

Akihito: Are you not strong yourself, Yuno?

Akihito: It’s impressive that you have the ability to absorb a demon’s cursed powers regardless of how strong it is.

Yuno: No, that’s not…

I hurriedly shook my head, Kurama’s red eyes sharpened.

Kurama: That’s bullshit. Even if their powers have been taken away, they can easily crush her using physical force.

(S-Scary.)

Ibuki: You’re so naive, Kurama.

Kurama: What?

Ibuki: Yuno may have weak physical appearance, but a couple of words from her is enough to sway Yasuchika.

(Now that’s clearly an exaggeration.)

Yasuchika: I mean, I’ll surely do my best for Yuno.

Kurama: …

Kurama stared at me without blinking.

Yuno: W-What?

Kurama: I don't get it. Yasuchika is the only human being who can waltz into the underworld whenever he wants to and do as he pleases.

Kurama: You’re a very mediocre woman, and yet someone like him is this obsessed with you.

(I can’t say anything because that’s true.)

Ibuki: Naive.

Tamamo: Naive, indeed.

Akihito: So naive.

Yasuchika: Too naive.

(Hm?)

Kurama: What.

Everyone besides Kurama and I said the same thing.

Yasuchika: Yuno is a lot more powerful than you think, Kurama.

Yasuchika: I strongly advise against making an enemy of her.

Akihito: And because she harbours no ill intentions, she's able to easily find her way into people's hearts without them realising it.

Ibuki: That’s because Yuno can see through a person’s true nature.

(What’s going on with this series of backhanded compliments…)

Kurama: I still don’t get it. Can I torture this little girl a little to confirm everything you all said about her?

Yuno: Absolutely not!

I quickly spoke up to break the tension.

Yuno: You are all exaggerating. I’m only an ordinary apothecary with no special abilities.

Kurama: We’ll find that out soon enough.

Having lost interest in the topic, Kurama finished the sake in his cup.

Tamamo: Personally, I can’t figure out why would Yuno pick Yasuchika.

Yasuchika: That’s mean.

Tamamo: You only get to speak after you’ve reflected on what you've done.

Tamamo directed his gaze back at me

Tamamo: Yuno. Is he really the right man for you?

Tamamo: Based on what I think — if you’re going to choose a human being, a man like Yoritomo would be a good choice.

Yasuchika: …!

(Yoritomo!?)

Yuno: Even if he’s only being used as an example, that’s still quite scary…

Tamamo: Is it? Although he has a slight flaw which is his habit of prioritising official matters over his personal life… Yoritomo is a capable and fair man.

Tamamo: Once the two of you become romantic partners, he will definitely never hurt you or put you in uncomfortable situations.

Yasuchika: …

Yasuchika had been silent for some time, and I sensed his uneasiness when I met his eyes.

(This is embarrassing to say, but… I should say it properly.)

Yuno: Lord Yoritomo is indeed a person of outstanding character, and I naturally have great respect for him.

Yuno: But the only person I ever want to be in love with… is Yasuchika.

Yuno: I remained fond of him even after my memories were taken away. Yasuchika is the only one I love, no one else.

Yasuchika: — Yuno.

I nodded firmly at Yasuchika, who sat there with his eyes slightly widened in surprise.

Tamano: … I see.

Tamamo: Yasuchika.

Tamamo: Be careful on moonless nights. I don't have confidence in my ability to hold myself back from sneaking an attack on you.

Kurama: …! Tamamo, come at me first if a fight is what you want.

Ibuki: Things will get messy, just be quiet.

Without saying a word, Kurama sent a wind blade flying towards Ibuki’s throat.

Ibuki skillfully deflects it with his sword.

(That was so dangerous!)

Everyone, except for me, remained calm as if it were a regular occurrence; and so I refrained from screaming.

(Spending time with Yasuchika seems to have trained me for such situations…)

Yasuchika: Nevertheless — Tamamo, you’re nasty for deliberately bringing up Lord Yoritomo’s name.

Tamamo: Occasionally experiencing something undesirable isn’t such a bad thing, you know.

Yasuchika smiled wryly and turned his gaze back onto me.

Yasuchika: Thanks, Yuno.

Yasuchika: I’ll do my best to become a man worthy of your feelings.

Ibuki: That’s a very heartwarming declaration, but there are plenty of other issues in Kyoto that require fixing first.

Kurama: Speaking of which, didn’t those cowardly Onmyoji underlings of yours run away?

Yasuchika: That’s correct, but a few have returned and asked to restart their training from scratch.

Yasuchika: I was a little surprised to hear that, so I did a reassessment of them.

Tamamo: … You’re too used to being surrounded by useless people.

(Yasuchika’s subordinates were overly reliant on him…)

I couldn’t help but agree with Tamamo’s statement, after recalling the time I spent assisting Yasuchika in dealing with ayakashi in Kyoto.

Ibuki: He doesn't realise that he sacrificed himself more than he trampled upon other people. You’re surprisingly quite cute, Yasuchika.

Yasuchika: Can you not talk as if you know me very well?

Yasuchika shot Ibuki with an icy glare.

Yasuchika: Back to the topic…

Yasuchika: I’m actually thinking of opening up the Onmyo Bureau to not only the children from noble families, but to commoners as well.

Yuno: Really!?

(It’d be great if people who aren't born into nobility could have the opportunity to serve in the imperial court.)

Tamamo: Would someone who has never experienced the world of the nobles be able to survive in the imperial court?

Yasuchika: I’m planning to form a specialised educational institution that not only teaches Onmyo techniques, but also culture and principles of governance.

Yasuchika: It’ll be a place where people and children from all walks of life can learn and grow.

Yuno: Wow! I like the sound of that.

Yasuchika: Children who possess large amounts of spiritual power often struggle because no one understands them.

Yasuchika: Even if they decide not to become an Onmyoji in the future, it’d benefit them to know how to control their abilities.

(Yasuchika himself grew up in a toxic and dysfunctional environment…)

(I’m confident that he can guide those children to a path of righteousness and kindness.)

Kurama: So a bunch of people who can’t use their powers without receiving training. Boring.

Yuno: I think that’s the case for most ordinary individuals…

Tamamo: Won’t the nobles have objections, though?

Akihito: Their objections won't be tolerated.

The look in Akihito’s eyes was both elegant and unsettling at the same time.

Akihito: Since Yasuchika has expressed his determination to carry out this plan, I will do whatever I can to silence anyone who may be against it.

(Akihito…)

Akihito: Although, as much as I’d like to say that, there actually aren’t many court nobles at the moment who can criticise Yasuchika.

Akihito: After all, he’s the most powerful Onmyoji in all of history, who even commanded the Four Gods.

Ibuki: Previously, Akihito held real power behind the scenes, but he didn't have complete control over the upper ranks of the court.

Ibuki: Those who took advantage of that and burdened Yasuchika with unreasonable demands should be shaking in their sandals by now.

Yasuchika: I have quite an impressive job position, but I’ll put it to full use for as long as it lasts.

(All this time, Yasuchika remained calm and fulfilled his duties well while in a stressful environment.)

(From now on, I hope the imperial court becomes a place where Yasuchika can feel at ease.)

Akihito: — Yasuchika, won’t this be more burdensome for you?

Yasuchika: Not at all. If anything, my heart now feels lighter instead.

Yasuchika looked directly at Akihito.

Yasuchika: Up till now, I believed that pitting the Shogunate and Rebel Army against each other was the only way to fulfil Your Majesty's wish.

Yasuchika: But now that I didn't choose that option… I want to find a different way to fulfil Your Majesty's wish, one that doesn't require us to walk into the darkness.

Akihito: …

Akihito: Thank you, Yasuchika.

(I’m glad…)

Ibuki: Your baby bird has left the nest. Feeling lonely, Akihito?

Akihito: Isn’t this what people call a new beginning? This is a cause for joy.

Tamamo, having been staring silently at Yasuchika for a while, sighed.

Tamamo: I understand now. You seem to have truly changed, Yasuchika.

Yasuchika: Eh?

Tamamo: Your old self lacked something very important, despite having a good understanding of human psychology.

Tamamo: You’ve become much more human, Yasuchika.

Tamamo: Yuno’s sincerity and strength must’ve changed you.

Yuno: Tamamo…

(It feels reassuring to hear that coming from Tamamo, someone who knows of Yasuchika’s past.)

(I’m glad I could create change in Yasuchika, even if it’s something small.)

Akihito: Tamamo. Did you come all the way here tonight just to ascertain that?

Ibuki: When I saw the fox who hates Yasuchika to the core like a snake and a scorpion arrived, I thought it was going to be a disaster.

Tamamo: I have to personally make sure that he’s a suitable man I can entrust my dear Yuno to.

I smiled at Tamamo who gave me a wink.

Yuno: Thank you, Tamamo!

Yasuchika: The people around you are very critical of me, aren't they, Yuno?

Tamamo: Got a problem with that?

Yasuchika: — Nope. This is great, actually.

Yasuchika: I’ll make all of you acknowledge that I’m capable of making Yuno happy.

(... I’m happy to know he thinks of me this way.)

My embarrassment was overcome by the amount of joy I was feeling, and I discreetly covered my blushing face with my hand.

…

After the party, everyone returned to their respective places of residence…

Yasuchika and I were getting ready for bed in his room.

Yasuchika: This should be good enough.

Yasuchika: Come over here, Yuno.

Yuno: … Okay.

I approached Yasuchika, who had his arms spread out on the mattress, and we laid side by side.

Yasuchika: Have you gotten used to sleeping together like this?

Yuno: Uh… not quite yet.

Yasuchika smiled in amusement at my honest response.

Yasuchika: That means you’ll need more practice, then.

Yuno: I-I’ll do my best…

(... No matter how many times I’ve seen him, I can’t help thinking of how attractive he is.)

(But I can’t outright say that to him.)

Yasuchika: You know, I haven't been scared of going to sleep these days.

Yuno: Eh?

Yasuchika: All along, I’d stay up till late at night because I didn't want to have any precognitive dreams, but…

Yasuchika: You gave me the strength to overcome that fear.

Yuno: Yasuchika…

My heart felt so full, and I was at a loss for words.

Yasuchika: Besides, having you in my arms seems to make it easier to fall asleep.

Yasuchika: It feels warm and comfortable… and you smell nice too.

Yasuchika: Your voice, your facial expressions, your gestures… it’s like all of it is made up of only the things I like.

(... I hope he doesn't pamper me too much with his sweet words.)

(I won’t know how to respond.)

Yuno: … Shall I sing you a lullaby again?

I mentioned a part of our memories together from before we became enemies…

Yasuchika: That’s fine too, but your singing voice isn’t the only thing I want to hear tonight.

Knowing what he meant, my heart started racing.

However…

(I’ve been on the receiving end of Yasuchika’s overflowing love for me tonight… I want to reciprocate those feelings.)

(I want to touch him and have him all to myself.)

I boldly placed my hands on Yasuchika’s chest.

Yasuchika: … Yuno? [surprised]

Yuno: … Understood. Please take all of me.

Yasuchika: …

I gently undid the sash of Yasuchika’s sleepwear… revealing his bare skin.

I ran my hands over his smooth skin and slowly got on top of him.

Locking gazes with his dark coloured eyes that had regained their calmness made me want to move away…

Yuno: Please… close your eyes.

Yasuchika: Okay.

I kissed his thin lips to prove my feelings for him.

Our breaths touched with every peck on the lips.

(Ah.)

He suddenly grabbed my wrist…

Yasuchika: Won’t you take your clothes off too, Yuno?

Yuno: W-Well…

The way Yasuchika looked up at me from below was so sexy, it made my head spin.

Yasuchika: I want to see you. — Can’t I?

(... I decided that I want to give Yasuchika my everything today.)

Yuno: Nn… alright.

With trembling hands, I undid my own sash and exposed my completely naked body.

Yasuchika: … [staring]

Yuno: P-Please don’t stare too much…

Yasuchika: Why? You’re beautiful.

Yasuchika traced my body with his fingertips.

Yuno: Nngh… ahh… stop…

My shoulders trembled as I held myself back from collapsing onto him.

Yuno: I’m in charge tonight.

Yasuchika: Of course. — I love seeing you do all the work for me.

(When you say it like that…)

Yasuchika: But this is unusual coming from you, who’s usually shy. What’s the matter?

I let out a small noise when his fingertips grazed the peaks of my breasts as he whispered.

Yuno: Ahh… Yasuchika…

Yasuchika: Hmm?

He urged me to continue my words.

Yuno: … I was so proud of you for gaining… everyone’s recognition… but I wanted you all to myself.

Yuno: I wanted to reciprocate your feelings that you’ve expressed to me… and make you obsessed with me.

Yasuchika: … [surprised]

The look in Yasuchika’s eyes told me that my response wasn't what he expected.

(I told him everything…)

Yuno: Every day of life has been very fulfilling, and I have the love of my life right by my side… I’m being strange, aren't I?

Yasuchika: — Not strange at all.

(Yasuchika?)

Yasuchika: Since you put it that way, I’ll go crazy trying to keep you to myself.

Yasuchika: Without you knowing, I’ll get rid of everyone who wants you or tries to harm you.

Yasuchika: So that I’ll be the only one you’ll ever look at.

Yuno: That’s not what I meant…

Yasuchika: Can’t you see it?

Yuno: … No.

(Yasuchika always appears so calm.)

Yasuchika: Then I'll show you tonight.

Yasuchika slid his hands over my bare skin, sending a shiver through my back.

He held me close, so tightly that there was no room for escape.

Yasuchika: I'm sorry. I won’t be able to let go of you for the rest of my life. I know that I’m broken, but…

Yasuchika: You’re the only one who can fill the void in my heart.

Yasuchika: In return for that, I’ll devote my life to protecting you… so please forgive me.

(— I can hear heartbeats.)

With our chests against each other's, there was no knowing whose heart was racing at that point.

I slowly closed my eyes… feeling that this was proof all our feelings had been shared with each other.

#ikemen genjiden #ikemen series #cybird ikemen #otome #cybird otome #ikegen main story #yasuchika main story #abe no yasuchika

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timmurleyart · 1 year

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The frogman of seal team 6. Happy Veteran’s Day. 🎗🎗🏵🎖🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸❤️🤍💙

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girlactionfigure · 8 months

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The #US arms embargo on #Israel, which began at its inception in ‘48, remained until after Israel’s brilliant military victory in the ’67 #SixDayWar. After that, the U.S. finally realized the #Arab states had fully aligned with the #Soviets and that Israel could be a key U.S. ally in the #ColdWar.

But the #American decision was not based on Israel’s #military victory alone.

You see, the #Israeli triumph in the Six Day War was no accident. It was the result of Israel’s obsessively careful planning and some major #intelligence coups regarding the most advanced #Soviet military equipment.

The following reads like a #SpyNovel, but the story is entirely true.

In 1963, the Cold War was at its hottest. A few months earlier, in October 1962, the world came to the brink of total #nuclear annihilation during the 13-day #CubanMissileCrisis standoff.

Then, in June of 1963, #JFK gave his most famous anti-#communist speech (known as the “Ich bin ein Berliner” (“I am a Berliner”) speech) in West #Germany to an adoring crowd of nearly half a million West #Germans.

And then the biggest shock of all that rocked the entire world. On November 22, 1963, President John F. Kennedy was assassinated by Soviet sympathizer #LeeHarveyOswald. The world changed forever.

Meanwhile, in Israel, Meir Amit became the new director of #ShinBet (internal security) and #Mossad (foreign intelligence). He took over at a time when Israel was seen by the U.S. (and the whole world) as a country living on borrowed time.

Sure, the Israelis managed a modern-day miracle by fighting off five invading Arab armies to a stalemate and #armistice in 1949; but the country was still technically at war with all of them, and Israel remained massively outnumbered and was increasingly finding itself massively outgunned.

Throughout much of the 1950s and 1960s, the Arab countries turned to their new best friends in the #SovietUnion.

The Soviets were more than happy to continue expanding their sphere of influence in the #oil-rich #MiddleEast and, therefore, aggressively armed and trained the Arab militaries with some of their most advanced weaponry.

Most concerningly, the Soviets had begun delivering and training Arab fighter pilots on their newest #supersonic strike aircraft – the MiG-21 (below).

Every Western nation, including the U.S., was completely in the dark about the capabilities of this cutting-edge #Russian aircraft and were fearful of the jet the Russians called the “most advanced strike aircraft in the world.”

Amit made a bold – some said insane – decision. Israel was going to steal a Soviet MiG-21.

Shortly after the U.S. bombed North #Vietnam for the first time in February of 1964, Israel was focused on gathering intelligence on Arab pilots charged with flying the MiG-21 for Egypt, Iraq, and Syria.

Israeli intelligence learned that one of the #Iraqi #AirForce pilots was a #Maronite #Christian Arab. Israel knew the Maronites had frequently been subject to #persecution in #Muslim-dominated countries like Iraq. Perhaps he could be turned.

The Mossad sent a beautiful, intelligent, and lively American-born woman to #Baghdad to try to establish contact with the Maronite pilot whose name was Munir Redfa. She met Redfa at a party, and Redfa was infatuated with her immediately.

Not knowing the Mossad agent’s identity, Redfa told the #beautiful #woman with whom he was clearly smitten that he was “in violent disagreement with the current war being waged by his government against the minority #Kurdish tribesmen in northern Iraq.” He was especially disgusted that he, a persecuted minority himself, was being asked to bomb the defenseless #Kurds.

He continued sharing his gripes against the Iraqi government including his shock at the imprisonment of some of his best friends who were Maronites. He also shared that he was being mistreated “because he was a Christian” and had been “passed over as commander” of his squadron, was kept stationed far from his home in Baghdad, and was permitted to fly “only with small fuel tanks” – a restriction he said was placed only on Christian pilots.

Redfa went even further, speaking in a way most Arabs dared not speak in public. He confessed he had a “sneaking admiration” for the Israelis who had managed to fight off five Arab armies despite being “so few against so many #Moslems.”

The Mossad agent knew she had her mark, and she maintained her relationship with him. It turned out Redfa had a wife and several children, but he still carried on a several-years-long intimate relationship with the Mossad agent.

Then, in July of 1966, the Mossad agent suggested that she and Redfa go on a trip together to #Europe. Redfa excitedly accepted the invitation.

After a few days in Europe, the Mossad agent suggested Redfa “fly to Israel with her. She had friends there who might be of service to him.”

Seeing the expression on Redfa’s face change from joy to confusion, the Mossad agent reached into her bag and pulled out a brand-new passport and tickets to Israel.

The jig was up. Redfa knew the woman he fell for was an Israeli spy. But, instead of being upset by this revelation, he was intrigued once he realized the Israelis (for whom he had “sneaking admiration”) were ready to make him an offer he couldn’t refuse.

The Israelis would give Redfa a way out of bombing innocent Kurds, they would pay him $1 million, they would sneak his entire family out of Iraq, and they would give him and his entire family Israeli citizenship, a home, and a job for life. Redfa agreed.

Mordecai Hod, commander of the Israeli Air Force, met with Redfa and discussed the plan for getting the MiG-21 out of Iraq and into Israel.

Hod showed Redfa how to fly a zig-zagging route that would allow him to avoid both Iraqi and Jordanian radar. It was a long way from Baghdad – around 560 miles – and Redfa would need nerves of steel to pull off his mission.

Redfa was a confident man. In this scheme, Redfa saw a way to provide his family with much better, freer lives. So, he told Hod, “I will bring you the plane.”

The date of the heist was set: August 16, 1966. Redfa followed the planned zig-zag pattern, but suddenly a ground crew member realized Redfa was heading way too far west.

Frantically, he radioed Redfa and ordered him to turn around immediately.

Redfa did not respond.

The ground crew warned, if Redfa did not turn around instantly, they would shoot him down!

Redfa stayed silent and kept flying.

Finally, he left Iraqi airspace and took a single breath.

Shortly thereafter, once Israeli radar picked up his plane (still hundred of miles away), the Israelis sent a squad of IAF Mirage fighter jets to escort him the remainder of the way to a base in the #NegevDesert.

After he landed, some of Redfa’s family was already there to greet him. The rest of his family was being smuggled across the #Iranian border by Kurdish guerillas. Safely in pre-#Islamic #Revolution #Iran, they were able to fly to Israel to be with the rest of their family.

Israeli intelligence had completed its mission and now had access to the most powerful weapon in the Arab armies’ possession.

Quickly, Western nations like the U.S., #France, and #Britain were all contacting Israel pressing for a chance to see the MiG-21 themselves. Every one of them was floored that this little nation, whose days were presumably numbered, had pulled off such an incredible intelligence feat. Meanwhile, none of these great Western powers had ever before had access to a MiG-21.

The Soviets, however, were furious; and they threatened the Israelis that they faced destruction if they did not get their fighter jet back.

Staggering the U.S., France, and Britain, with its response, Israel did not blink.

"No," they told the Russians. They would not “return” the jet.

Israel knew it was under constant threat of annihilation, and it was only a matter of time before the Arabs staged another massive invasion. The Israelis felt their only means of survival was to ensure they had better intelligence and were better prepared than their enemies.

On the other hand, the Israelis were happy to oblige the #Western powers, but they felt it wise to let things calm down a bit first.

After a few months passed, Israel “loaned” the MiG-21 to the U.S. and permitted them to conduct testing – all of which proved a boon to America’s strategic capabilities.

Meanwhile, the strategic value to Israel would be obvious a mere nine months later when, on April 7, 1967, Israeli jets got in a #dogfight with Syrian pilots flying MiG-21s.

The Israelis shot down six Syrian MiG-21s without losing a single plane of their own; and in the Six Day War two months later, the IAF took advantage of its overwhelming air superiority over the Syrian and Egyptian MiG-21s to carry them to a quick and decisive victory that shocked the entire world.

These combined events led the U.S. to realize that the tiny country of Israel had developed into a Western democracy with a formidable military and a daring intelligence apparatus that was right in the heart of the Middle East.

No longer was Israel seen as “the little country that could.”

Instead, Israel became one of America’s most important allies during the Cold War.

Captain Allen

#Israel #USA #Arms Embargo

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annerbhp · 5 months

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20 questions for fic writers!

@runawaymarbles tagged me, but she said I could do it anyway if I liked.

1. How many works do you have on ao3?

114

2. What’s your total ao3 word count?

1,436,497

3. What fandoms do you write for?

The big ones were Stargate and Harry Potter and The Untamed. I've also dabbled briefly in CSI, Leverage, Firefly, Pirates of the Caribbean, and Last of the Mohicans.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

It's all HP fic, which I think speaks both to the size of that fandom, but also that I started writing for that fandom as I moved to AO3.

The Changeling (HP, Ginny) The Armistice Series (going to cheat and put these all together, HP, Harry/Ginny) we can't control (watch me unfold) (HP, Harry/Ginny) gone was any trace of you (HP, Harry/Ginny) half awake and almost there (HP, Harry/Ginny)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do try to respond to comments, because each and every one of them mean a lot to me. But I am not always great about it. I think I kind of respond in giant bursts? So there are times when I just don't, often because I am totally focused on getting the next chapter out or something, but then I will just sit down on day and just mass respond to a lot. I could always be better at it though.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Interesting. I am in no way afraid of angst, but I usually like to at least have a hopeful ending, if not a wildly happy pay off ending. I'm not sure I've ever done a full tragedy ending. Outside some one-off comment fic or ficlet posted here or there.

I think down here among the wreckage (Sam/Jack, SG-1) is my most infamously angsty fic of all time, and I never completely got to finish it? So it ends pretty darn angsty. Though maybe Beneath the Stains of Time (boy, I used to love a good apocafic!)

my kingdom come undone (Untamed, wangxian) is pretty darn angsty too, I suppose.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Hopefully almost all of them? Though, I suppose I mostly like to exist in the "here's some pay off after angst, but I'm never gonna say everything is all good because it never is" area.

Maybe Life is What Happens which is sort of a coda to who Harry/Ginny could have ended up being?

8. Do you get hate on fic?

Occasionally, but not that often. I've only gotten something I would consider straight up hate speech twice, and those just get immediately deleted. Otherwise it's mostly someone telling me what they don't like. Some people really hated The Changeling. And some people really think I hate Hermione for some reason and hated that. Oh, boy and now I'm remembering the time I mentioned the mere possibility of a different pairing (Sam/Daniel) than my usual ship at the time (Sam/Jack) and got a lot of hate about that!

9. Do you write smut?

Not in the beginning, no. I distinctly remembering @holdouttrout and I being like "how can people write smut! I could never!" and then not so long later we had a good time coming back and laughing at ourselves and each other as we wrote smut. Lol. Good times, Trout!

These days, yes, I am known to sometimes write smut. I don't do a lot of PWP, but I think smut can be a great part of storytelling and character development. I'm not sure I'm any good at it, and it's probably the kind of writing I am least confident in, but I'm usually willing to try a hand at it.

10. Do you write crossovers?

Very occasionally I have. Mostly in response to a challenge or a fest or some sort of organized event. It can be fun to just take two things you like and brainstorm what it would possibly look like to smoosh them together. I think the biggest crossovers I ever wrote were a SG-1/Firely one (Raggedy Edge) and a SG-1/House MD one (Unexpected). Both were fics I wrote for someone else. (Man, I have this SG-1/Leverage fic that I always wanted to write but doubt I ever will. I think I had Maggie as one of Jack's cousins or something.)

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of. People have occasionally posted one of my fics in weird archive or something. But no one's ever tried to claim one of my stories as their own.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, a few! I know there are a few languages for The Changeling. Though I'm not sure if any were ever finished. I've had a few requests for various things over the years. And then I put up a "feel free to do without asking" disclaimer, so who knows!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, that is not something I've ever done. I'm always impressed by that. And some of the best fics I've ever read have been team written. (A Narrow Bridge by @frameofmind9 and Jo Lasalle, it's AMAZING.) I find it such an interesting and impressive idea. Not sure I'd be able to do it, but it's interesting!

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

I feel attacked. What kind of a question to ask a shipper. Well, there is always what takes up all my brain space in the moment, which is Lan Wangji/Wei Wuxian in The Untamed. But Sam/Jack (SG-1) was my first and will always own a part of my brain.

It's interesting too, because there are ships I adore, ships I love to read about, and ships I love to write about. And those three don't always align. I think Sam/Jack and Wangxian have been the two biggest ships for me that touch all three of those at once.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but probably won’t?

Excuse me as I open my writing folder and gesture at everything all at once. Okay, I'll be nicer to myself. I am in a space where I feel like I will never finish anything ever again, but I will have faith!!

There's really too much. So many HP fics that I am sad that I will probably never get to. There's a time travel fic, there's a Harry never went to Hogwarts AU, oh, man, the zombie fic. So many.

There's a ton of SG-1 fics I left half-imagined, but it's been a decade since I stopped writing for that fandom, so I'm more distant from it now.

I want to finish them all!!

16. What are your writing strengths?

Hm. This is hard. Probably because saying nice things about ourselves is hard and feels like being egotistical or something. Lol. I think I really like weaving various plot lines, themes, and character development, probably because that is the thing I love doing and so have spent a lot of time experimenting and practicing. I think I also have an ability to trust my instincts with what is working and what isn't, even if I'm stubborn about ignoring it sometimes. Can being stubborn as hell being a writing strength. Because that, honestly.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I have very little discipline. People who can outline something and then just knock a draft out are amazing to me. I am very slow and only tend to write when I'm in the mood. I think I can also be overly sensitive to unsolicited criticism. And in some cases solicited criticism from someone I haven't built trust with. That might mostly be the giant case of imposter syndrome I lug around with myself. So I might be sensitive, but I've been trying to build my skills in hearing it and reacting appropriately in a constructive way. I feel like brevity is another problem! Just look at this darn post!

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Honestly, I don't attempt it. If someone is speaking a different language, I am more likely to just put the dialogue in italics or something, if whoever the POV is understands that language.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Stargate SG-1. At least the first I ever wrote and shared. I think I wrote fanfic in my head for decades before realizing what it even was. (Let's say that I had quite the crush on Wesley Crusher and fantasized ways some OC self-insert might be able to marry him while also being adopted by Picard. Ah...the early 90s. What a time to be alive.)

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

Wow, and I thought some of these earlier questions were rude. 😂

I'm going to cheat and say that whatever i am currently working on is always my favorite.

Also, I really liked who i am at the end of the day which is so obscure that no one ever read it. (I think it has like 2 comments and one of them was @runawaymarbles being nice to me. <3 )But I just love a lot about it. Sometimes I daydream about removing the serial numbers and turning it into it's own thing.

Tagging @pepperf, @holdouttrout, @narukoibito, @mylittleredgirl, and YOU that person who wants to do this.

#20 questions writing memes

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scotianostra · 9 months

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The leading Scottish suffragette, Evelina Haverfield, was born at Inverlochy Castle on August 9th 1867.

Evelina’s birth is recorded as ‘Honourable Evilena Scarlett’, she took the name Haverfield from her husband. Her childhood was divided between London and the Inverlochy estate. In 1880 she went to school in Dusseldorf, Germany, after which she married Major Henry Haverfield at the age of 19., who was 20 years her senior. The marriage is said to have been a happy one they had two sons together, The Major however died in 1896. Evelina married again two years later, a another military man, Major John Blaguy. This was not a happy union and after some time they drifted apart. The rest of her life was informed by devotion to a cause.

She became an enthusiastic supporter of the suffragette movement and was arrested during suffragette demonstrations in London for hitting an escorting police officer. Her only regret was not hitting him hard enough, promising to bring a revolver next time. During that heady time she met Vera Holme. Their companionship was to last the rest of her days.

At the outbreak of the First World War the suffragettes supported the war effort by founding a Women’s Voluntary Emergency Corps and a Women’s Voluntary Reserve Ambulance Corps. Evelina became commandant in chief of the latter, looking, it was said, every inch a soldier in her khaki uniform, although she later left after a disagreement of an undisclosed nature.

Evelina joined the Scottish Women’s Hospitals and devoted the next two years to overseas service with them. She served in Serbia with Elsie Inglis, as a hospital administrator and was part of a small group taken prisoner when the armies of the Central Powers overran Serbia in October and November 1915.

Under appalling conditions of poverty and military oppression, Evelina and those with her, struggled heroically through the winter to provide food and basic care for their wounded Serbian patients and some of the local civilian population. In the spring of 1916, Evelina and the other 'Scottish Women’ were released through the International Red Cross and returned to England.

In August 1916 Evelina went to Romania in charge of 18 ambulance and transport vehicles as part of two units of the Scottish Women’s Hospitals. These units were in support of Serbian soldiers fighting on the eastern Allied front. The stronger enemy invading armies drove the Russian, Romanian, and Serbian defenders out of southern Romania and north of the Danube river delta.

During this two-month retreat by the Allied forces, Evelina and the transport drivers were working non-stop under constant enemy fire, in desperate situations, while rescuing wounded soldiers and driving them to safety.

By early 1917, with the fighting on the eastern front over, and unable to return to Serbia because of the enemy occupation there, Evelina returned to England, where she remained until after the Armistice of November 1918. In England she raised money for clothing and canteens for Serbian soldiers, gave public speeches on behalf of Serbian relief, and helped to found a Serbian Red Cross Society in Britain.

After the Armistice she returned to Serbia to supervise the distribution of much needed food, clothing, and medical supplies. When this was done, in 1919, she made plans to found a home for Serbian war orphans in a Serbian mountain village. It was there, in Baijna Bashta, that she contracted pneumonia, probably brought on by overwork and fatigue, and died prematurely at the age of 52, revered and honoured by the Serbs for her five years of humanitarian work on their behalf. The Serbs issued a stamp commemorating this remarkable women in 2015, a woman few Scots have even heard of…….

Buried in Serbia today, Evelina’s gravestone reads:

‘Hear lies the body of the honourable Evelina Haverfield youngest daughter of William Scarlett 3rd Baron Abinger and of Helen ne Magruder his wife of Inverloky Castle Fort William Scotland who finished her work in Bajina Bashta March 21st 1920 through the war 1914-1920 She worked for the Serbian people with untiring zeal. A straight fighter as traight rider and a most loyal friend. R.I.P’

In 2015 Evalina was one of five Scottish women and one English women, who worked as doctors, nurses and drivers feature on a series of stamps in Serbia, the others were Dr Elsie Inglis a campaigner for women's suffrage and the founder of the Scottish Women Hospitals in Serbia. Dr Inglis was one of the first female graduates at the University of Edinburgh.

Dr Elizabeth Ross, one of the first women to obtain a medical degree at the University of Glasgow. She travelled to Serbia as a volunteer and tragically passed away during the typhoid epidemic in 1915.

Dr Katherine MacPhail OBE, involved in humanitarian work in Serbia throughout WW1. She is remembered for opening the first paediatric ward in Belgrade in 1921.

Dr Isabel Emslie Galloway Hutton who joined the Scottish Women Hospitals as a volunteer in 1915 after she was turned away by the War Office in London. She served in France, Greece and Serbia until 1920.

The sixth was English woman, Captain Flora Sandes, who was the only known British female to bear arms during WW1

#scotland #scottish #history #strong women #suffrage #wom #womens suffrage #womens rights

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