#Military occupations

[cavalierzee]

U.S. Replaces The Taliban With The Taliban.

[kropotkindersurprise]

February 28, 2024 - American military veterans burn their uniforms calling for a free Palestine, at a vigil for Aaron Bushnell in Portland, Oregon. [source]

[workersolidarity]

🇮🇱⚔️🇵🇸 🚀🏠💥🚑 🚨

ISRAELI OCCUPATION MASSACRES YET ANOTHER PALESTINIAN FAMILY IN GAZA

📹 Scenes from the results following yet another Zionist atrocity, when the Israeli occupation army bombed the Abu Qamar family home in the Yabna Refugee Camp, in the southern Gazan city of Rafah.

#source

@WorkerSolidarityNews

[thisthat-ortheother]

Maybe I lose some followers along the way but that is okayyy I am not sorry to see them go ✌️

[odinsblog]

Hamas ≠ Palestine

👉🏿 https://www.amnesty.org/en/latest/campaigns/2017/11/the-occupation-of-water/

👉🏿 https://www.tumblr.com/odinsblog/730635185110073344

[jacketpotatoo]

The thematic implications of Caitlyn transitioning from solely a sharpshooter, to learning the ropes of hand-to-hand combat, and how it follows her growing distrust in Ambessa. If the weapon is a reflection of mentality, it prefigures Cait's mental expansion - away from narrow-minded thinking and acting from a distance. Instead of tackling from afar, she melds her skills in accuracy and deduction *with* close-up action. This is her power play. "Vision" is cait's strength (as opposed to "Might" and "Guile" and "Sacrifice") and Ambessa qualifies this with the phrase "tunnels in your eyes". Ironically, she trains Caitlyn and literally gives her the tools to pull away from her rifle-mindset. In teaching her how Noxus views strength, she offers her the keys to dismantle it

[soup-mother]

I'm kinda retreading old ground here re. australian anti americanism but basically just as chauvinism (e.g "we should control our own destiny" to be imperialists), but it's always interesting to think about what would happen with pine gap if the US left.

because realistically it's not going to stop being used for surveillance and military targeting, it's just going to be ran entirely by Australians. like military bases aren't suddenly fine when it's an exclusively Australian military occupation of stolen land, but talking about the Australian military as occupiers here makes people really angry.

[pissmoon]

Literally no other incel/mra take as braindamaged and painfullyyyyy american as 'women are safe from wars'. You believe its only ~soldiers~ that are involved in wars and civilians in the occupied territory are 100% safe and untouched by the war? There was no single war since ww1 without civilian victims. Mass rape is a weapon of war. Terrorozing civilian population is one of the main strategies. Tell me you are an american who knows fuckall about how living under occupation works without telling me you are an american who knows fuckall about how living under occupation works

[kropotkindersurprise]

May 2024 - A Palestinian man, determined to stay in Gaza after Israel bombed his home, is rebuilding a shelter on his property. He is using discarded Israeli mlitary equipment, paid for by USA taxpayers through Biden's multi-billion dollar weapons transfers meant to aid the fascist Israeli government in their genocide. [video]

[workersolidarity]

🇮🇱 🚨

ISRAELI RESERVISTS REFUSE TO FIGHT IN REPORTED "BURNOUT"

The Israeli Channel 12 media outlet is reporting the refusal of a reserve company of 30 soldiers to continue fighting in the Gaza Strip due to reported "burnout".

According to Channel 12, the soldiers belonging to a reserve company of some 30 soldiers, attached to the regular paratrooper brigades, received orders this morning to prepare for further deployment in ground operations in Gaza's southern city of Rafah.

Following receiving their orders, the company of soldiers informed their commanders they would not be participating in the actions because they were "no longer capable."

The commander of the brigade responded by saying he would not force the reservists to appear and that no operational gap will be caused by their refusal to participate, however, the commander agreed that issue reflects a high attrition rate among reserve forces after several months of fighting.

The company's commander added that he was "not doing this because I like guns. Not because I'm looking for peace from my wife. Not because I find personal satisfaction [in Gaza]. I'm doing it because I have to, because my brothers and sisters are kidnapped And that we are in the second state of the State of Israel and it will continue to be painful and difficult."

#source

@WorkerSolidarityNews

[theinconvenientlifestyle]

[foxbirdy]

can you please tell me more about the island at the equator? the one you drew about? i'm planning on becoming a sailor and i want to know what it was like way out there. can you tell me about the stars and the manta rays

I would love to tell you more about that island.

It's a tiny atoll, with a little over 4.6 square miles of permanent land. The hottest sun and most furious rain I've ever seen in my life, often in the same 24 hours. There are no freshwater sources here; everything you drink must come from the sky. Coral reefs surround the lagoons and islands, in vivid terraces that cascade from crystalline shallows to water so deep and blue it confuses your eyes. Sand flats and coral rubble beds stretch around the margins of the lagoons, and sometimes the water is so still and glassy that you can see the ripples from the spotted eagle rays and lemon sharks and schools of awa from a half mile away. Blue bottle jellies come up with high tides every new moon, and the manta rays gather in winding circular trains when the moon is full. Bioluminescent plankton is a rare and treasured guest, making the wave tops glitter cyan and green, illuminating each wingtip on the manta rays as they ruffle the surface of the water. Over one million seabirds make their homes there, and sometimes the chatter of the 'ewa'ewa is so constant and deafening that you stop hearing it at all, fading into the background sounds of wind and water and trees. The 'iwa fly in the highest wind currents, pirates of the sky, with their big forked tails and sharp lightning-bolt wings. The manu-o-Kū catch the tiniest silver fish, the length of my pinky, and flutter down from their perches to chitter at you as you move through the forest. The 'ā - red-footed boobies - crane their heads from side-to-side as they look at you, and when they open their mouths, you remember that birds come from dinosaurs. The stars are close and bright, despite the heavy humidity, and on clear nights the milky way is like a hundred pearl necklaces stretched across the sky, and you can walk with just the light of the moon. You can see the Southern Cross from one side of camp, and Polaris from the other. Cassiopeia sits in pride of place, and her daughter Andromeda is a lightblur in the crook of her knees. Meteors there sometimes fall like brilliant green balls of fire, so bright they put spots in your vision. On nights under one of those big dark storm cells that walk across the ocean like giants, the thunder and lightning moves around you in transient peaks and swells, inconstant, distant and then close. These are the only times you cannot hear the birds, gone silent, as the downpour takes up the place where their voices live.

[hereswhere]

I will personally make sure rishi sunak and kier starmer see the hague.

[athena5898]

OCCUPIED INTERIOR (RNN) — Additional scenes of the last dinner for a number of zionist soldiers after they were targeted by a Hezbollah drone (https://t.me/PalestineResist/62498) at the Golani Brigade base (https://t.me/PalestineResist/62496?single) in "Binyamina" south of Haifa (https://t.me/PalestineResist/62487), flying over 80 kilometers without interception (https://t.me/PalestineResist/62482?single). About 70 soldiers were killed and wounded, according to zionist media, in Hezbollah's precise strike of the military base. Over 110 soldiers were wounded (https://t.me/PalestineResist/62429) by the Lebanese resistance today, and Hezbollah continued to strike bases repeatedly, undeterred. As Sayyed Hassan Nasrallah said before his martyrdom: "The message of the drones is just the beginning.. A modest beginning of where we can go. If the matters reach negative outcomes…God knows what we could do. We could flip the table on the whole world." As the food of the criminal soldiers mixes with their blood, a scene that has reoccurred countless (https://t.me/PalestineResist/30817?single) times (https://t.me/PalestineResist/32481) in Gaza repeats in the zionist depth, this time with soldiers in a military base instead of innocent children.

[tenderjock]

outstanding leadership, extraordinary initiative, & steadfast devotion to duty

Daniel&Jack&Peggy, and medals earned in wartime.

"You ever notice that Thompson doesn't talk about the Navy Cross?"

Peggy froze in the middle of adding milk to her tea. After a moment, she put the bottle down and stirred carefully, thoughts racing. Without turning to Daniel or letting her surprise inflect her voice, she said, "What do you mean?"

Daniel shrugged, a little jerkily. "I don't know. Everything's always bigger and better with him, you know? He'll tell you how much he earns or how long his - ah, you know, he'll brag. But he changes the topic every time it comes up."

She tapped the spoon against the side of her cup. "Perhaps he -" She broke off, struggling for the words that would turn Daniel's attention away from the issue. "Perhaps he simply doesn't like to talk about things that happened over there. We've all been there; it's never anything like the medals or newsreels seem to say it was."

"Yeah, sure," Daniel said. "It just doesn't seem like Thompson to not tell everyone he knows about it."

"You don't talk about your Purple Heart," Peggy pointed out, not ungently. Daniel stiffened.

"That's different."

"It is," Peggy agreed. "It's different for all of us."

A pair of familiar footsteps joined them at the office commissary before Daniel could respond. Peggy glanced back down into her cup and added a generous spoonful of sugar.

"I see my top agents are spending their workday productively," Jack remarked, his smirk a sharp line in his face.

Peggy shot him a rather arch look. "I see Chief Thompson is having an equally productive day," she said. "Have you admitted defeat yet?"

Jack made a face. He'd been fighting, along with Agent Faut and some rather obnoxious pencil-pushers, to balance the New York SSR's budget for the better part of the week. Most of his morning had been spent in a meeting with the senator's aide.

"I got 'em on the ropes," he said. Daniel clears his throat, rather judgementally.

Peggy isn't quite sure who he's been more upset with recently: Jack, for taking the promotion, or her, for not being bothered by it.

His attitude was a bit annoying, to be honest. Frankly, she was never going to receive a Medal of Honor or the position as New York Chief, no matter who advocated for her or what evidence was presented to the U.S. government. Daniel had to know that, too; the man wasn't stupid. And he had to realize that having Jack in charge, where they could keep an eye on him, was better than any alternative.

"We were discussing wartime medals," Peggy said instead of all that. Jack stiffened; Daniel noticed; Peggy rolled her eyes. "I once knew a man who earned an Order of the Bath for strategic actions in battle." She considered the memory. "He had terrible teeth."

"Order of the Bath?" Jack said, disbelieving.

"For conspicuous heroism taking place in a sauna," Daniel said. Both men laughed. Peggy sniffed. They had no respect, these Americans.

"What about Carter?" Jack asked, still laughing.

Peggy blinked at him. "What about me?" she said.

"What kind of awards did Agent Peggy Carter deign to accept?"

"I didn't earn any," Peggy said stiffly. "Women aren't combatants."

That's a bit of an oversimplification, she will admit in the privacy of her own mind. There were a few medals she could have theoretically earned, from the Americans and her own government, had circumstances regarding her service not been so, well, unique.

Some Englishwomen had received medals, but their service had been different than hers - usually as pilots or somesuch, not the covert missions she had in occupied France and Nazi Germany.

She may have qualified from the U.S. Women's Army Corps Service Medal, although it perhaps would have required Colonel Phillips to pull a few strings. Peggy had occupied a strange place in the war: a woman, first of all, and therefore not allowed in combat or eligible to receive medals for heroism under fire. But she had also been a spy, someone who technically didn't exist; and a British operative working for the Americans. Both sides had simply sort of - cut her loose, after victory was obtained and she was no longer useful.

It was only due to Colonel Phillips' recommendation that she had this job in the first place. Peggy pursed her lips, then shook herself out of her thoughts.

Only to find the two men staring at her like they had just been dunked in ice water. It was a bit unsettling. She took a sip of tea.

"Anyway," she said. "I actually do have work to do. Daniel, try to keep in mind what I was saying."

Jack was frowning at her. Daniel was frowning, too, but his gaze flicked to Jack once when she spoke, before he nodded.

"Sure thing," he said, and shifted on his crutch out of her way to let her back to her desk.

: :

Peggy frequently found herself the last person in the office, nowadays, with the possible exceptions being Daniel and Jack. Right now, Daniel's dark head of curls was bent over his desk and Jack's light was still on in his office, although the blinds were drawn.

They've all been working in a companionable silence for the last two hours. Daniel was eating something that smelled hot and spiced at his desk; little noises kept coming from the Chief's office, the sound of a file cabinet being opened or the desk chair being pushed back.

For Peggy's part, she's been combing through reports of gun sales to women matching Dottie's description in the tri-state area. She has found three that warrant a closer look, and was just about to get herself another cup of tea and really settle in when Jack's door opened and he slouched out.

He stopped in front of her desk. She looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. He stared at her for a second, looking troubled.

"Yes?" she ventured, when it became clear he wasn't going to say anything to her.

"Can I talk to you?" he asked, rather abruptly.

Daniel was looking at them now. Peggy drummed her fingernails on her desk, then nodded and followed Jack into his office, where he shut the door behind them.

He then proceeded to stand at his desk, hands braced against the wood, staring blankly. Peggy was honestly starting to get worried, not that she thought letting Jack know that was a good idea.

"Chief Thompson?" she said. She didn't touch his arm, but it was a close thing.

Jack opened his desk drawer and pulled out a box. It looked like a large jewelry box and was made of navy blue leather, with gold detailing. Peggy didn't need to ask what was inside it - even if it hadn't had the name of the medal printed on it in little gold letters, she would have known.

"You should have it," Jack said. His face was grim and set.

"Jack!" Peggy said, shocked.

"You should have it," he insisted. "I don't - it shouldn't be me, anyway. And you deserve it, Peggy. We both know that." Jack glanced at her, then glanced away. "I was going to put it out on my desk but - I couldn't. I can't. You should have it."

Peggy stared at him, feeling like her heart was in her throat. Jack Thompson was a liar, and a fraud, and a self-serving, arrogant pain-in-the-arse to work with, but sometimes he still surprised her.

And, anyway, it would do no one any favors to make this into a bigger deal than it already was. She nodded, and carefully took the box and tucked it under one arm.

"I'll keep it safe," she said quietly. Then, more briskly, "Do you want me to brief you on the progress I've made in the Underwood case?"

"Christ," Jack said, rubbing his eyes. He laughed, a little wetly. "Yeah, that'd be great. Tell me you got something."

They talked for a few minutes. Jack agreed with her that there was meat in the rumor of a bank robbery being planned, although neither of them could fathom why a notorious Communist would want to rob a bank. When Peggy left his office with the Navy Cross in hand, Jack was pouring himself a Scotch, looking exhausted and like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

Daniel looked up as Peggy fastened the clasps of her purse and got her coat. "You leaving?" he asked, and then considered her more closely. "Are you okay, Peggy?"

"Yes," she said. "Just, you know." She looked at Jack's office door and clutched the rectangular shape in her purse tighter. "I need to get home."

"I'll walk you out," Daniel said, still watching her. "I'm just about done here anyway."

Peggy waited while he grabbed his coat, hat, and briefcase. She had to watch her pace a bit when she's walking with Daniel, but the company was usually worth it. Tonight, she was tired and a little shaken and a bit too reflective, and she appreciated the distraction of having to make small talk with Daniel as they walked to the subway station together.

As they were waiting for her train - hers was due in four minutes; Daniel's, in six - Daniel said, apropos of nothing, "I guess I just never expect Thompson to care enough about anything to feel, I don't know." He looked across the platform blankly. "Shame or guilt or, or loss. Or anything."

Peggy looked at him. "I know what you mean," she said.

"You know why he doesn't talk about the Navy Cross." It wasn't a question. Daniel wasn't looking at her.

Peggy tucked her heavy purse tighter to her torso and breathed out slowly. "Yes," she said. Just yes, and nothing else.

Daniel nodded, still staring across the empty platform. "Is it something I should know about?"

She gave that some thought. "It's not something I'm going to tell you," she said finally. "Not without Jack's permission, which I don't think he'd give. But it doesn't change who he is, not really. It might explain some of what he's done, recently." Then, because she wanted to be honest with Daniel: "Although you may not like the explanation."

He dipped his chin to his chest. "Alright," he said, then again, quieter, "Alright."

Her train arrived, and Peggy boarded, wishing Daniel a good night. Peggy observed him through the car's dirty, cracked window, a dark figure braced on his crutch, looking down at the concrete beneath his shoes. Peggy put one hand into her purse, pressing her palm against Jack's medal as she watched him.

As the train pulled away from the platform, Daniel seemed to shake himself and turned toward the opposite tracks, where his train going the other direction was arriving.

[scopophilic1997]

scopOphilic_micromessaging_890 - scopOphilic1997 presents a new micro-messaging series: small, subtle, and often unintentional messages we send and receive verbally and non-verbally.