#civilian military

[communistkenobi]

This is moreover complicated by the fact that the [South African] apartheid state did not acknowledge itself as engaged in a war. The apartheid state in the late 1970s saw itself as engaged in a ‘total onslaught’, preferring to refer to its ‘enemy’ as terrorists rather than declaring an outright war. According to Cock and Nathan, the choice for the apartheid state to define the conflict as unrest or terrorism as opposed to war implied that liberation movement fighters were denied the prisoner of war status granted by the Geneva Protocols to those engaged in war against colonial powers.

— Women combatants and the liberation movements in South Africa (2015) by Siphokazi Magadla

its refreshing to see this so plainly laid out in writing. a terrorist is just someone the state has decided has no rights

[taxinealkaloids]

two b-list sons of God and a second-rate resurrection

[sketchyfandomgirl]

Simon Riley has a Medusa tattoo. It’s never seen since he keeps it hidden beneath his clothes at all times. But it’s small, and almost easily missed at first glance. Only a few select people know about the tattoo.

Like you.

Simon trusts you the most out of everyone he knows. Probably more than his best friend Soap. Probably even the Captain. You knew Simon the longest by almost more than a decade, as you grew up together after your family moved to Manchester.

You were there when he decided to enlist in the military. Being there to see him off, attending his graduation from boot camp and tapping him out alongside his mother.

He trusts you a lot. Enough to be an emergency contact if anything were to go wrong.

You got a call, all the way from America, in Texas if you can believe it, that one Simon Riley has been found near the Texas-Mexico border half dead and was in recovery. So you booked a flight to Texas that very night. Wasn’t Simon supposed to be on some covert mission? What the hell happened?

Simon was reluctant to talk about what happened, but he eventually opened up about the horrors he endured while he was captured by Roba.

The violence, especially the sexual abuse that Simon wouldn’t even tell his assigned therapist. You were Simon’s safety, his most entrusted person who he could be more open with.

It would take years to help him heal.

But eventually, he did start to heal from the process, and asked you to come along with him to a tattoo appointment.

It was there, Simon’s sign of addressing his pain was finally closing to an end, did he get a Medusa tattoo.

[rejectingrepublicans]

[musical-chick-13]

This is the only thing I'm going to say about the election until it's over:

Anyone who did not vote for Harris or who attempted to dissuade people from voting for Harris, you are indirectly responsible for whatever shit Donald Trump does if he gets elected. That blood is primarily on his hands, yes. But it is also on yours. I hope you can live with that because I sure as hell wouldn't be able to.

[mueritos]

i hope we continue to see more protests within the US military. i see a lot of leftists and folks who are anti-military who have such an open disdain for the people who are in the military, yet neglect to considering the conditions this country makes to produce ideology, poverty, and the illusion of choice to make all kinds of people choose to enlist in the military. You ever see those videos of ROTC kids recording each other asking why they joined the military and everyone's like, "healthcare", "it helped me go to college", "I was bored" or "free ptsd lol". I hate to remind everyone but folks who are in the military are people, too, and they are the same victims and perpetrators of violence as the rest of you, we have all been shallowly conditioned to view each other as enemies just because one person is wearing army greens and the other is not.

some of the biggest anti-war advocates are those who engaged in war. Veterans who genuinely believed they were protecting the US against "terrorism" come back with blood on their hands, and they choose to realize that it was US imperialism that forced them to carry out violence, instead of doubling down and shielding themselves from the fact that they too are capable of atrocities... This is a class of people who are intentionally conditioned to be as poor and as ideologically aligned to US imperialism so that the military has a never-ending pool to send their youth to destroy other country's youth. The only people I have ever heard say "do not join the military" are those who ARE military.

This is in no way to ever excuse or explain away any of the atrocious war crimes and violence this industry and its people have committed against others. What I am saying is that we absolutely cannot cast aside the individuals who have been victimized within US imperialism, even if they are wearing army greens. I was speaking with my Palestinian classmate last week and another classmate--a member of the US air force-- walked up to me and struck up a conversation. My military classmate showed me her new bird, bid both of us goodbye, and left. My Palestinian classmate asked me if I was close with her, and I said we talked quite often, and she said, "I never met a person who's in the military. I still hate the military, but I never knew that they did, too. I didn't realize that they were also victims."

If my Palestinian classmate--one who is actively watching her own community die--can understand that it is not individuals who are the problem but it is in fact systems, US imperialism, white supremacy, capitalism...why can't we all? And she has EVERY reason to hate any individual military member. A lot of online activism just creates more barriers. if your optics look bad, complicated, or contradictory, you are cast aside. Everyone has got the be the perfect activist, you can never make a mistake or share a half-baked thought, you should always believe every word from a marginalized persons mouth (because being marginalized doesn't mean you're not entrenched in white supremacy too!) and you should never question what you see...Do you know what you sound like? The very imperialists who are convincing poor whites to vote against themselves. Perfectionism is white supremacy. Black & white thinking is white supremacy.

I'd rather have a military member who genuinely believed in the US imperialism machine but was disillusioned after being deployed as my comrade than some leftist who cherishes the performance of "being a good person". I don't want "good people" in our movements. I want humans who care. I want humans who make mistakes and who learn from them. I want humans who accept the messiness of a person. I want humans who hold others accountable and allow themselves to take responsibility for their actions. I want people who change for themselves and others.

fight systems, not individual people. we can change each other, but if we're too preoccupied looking like the World's Perfect Activists, we will only consume each other alive. Connect to your fellow humans, forever and always.

[dykedvonte]

Ulysses obsession with the Courier is a special type of sad to me cause the Courier’s part was so important but so unwitting. They had no idea what was in the package they delivered and neither did he. Neither had an idea of what it could’ve done and the Courier was only caring out their job (mind you the Courier could be killed via notes in the express contract if they don’t). To them it was just another regular delivery to the divide and one that they likely thought would help, just like all the ones before.

It’s so tragic for Ulysses to hold so much ire to the Courier when it really was the case of it could’ve been anyone. Anyone could have delivered that package but they did and so he focused the blame on them and it destroys what he is trying to instill in the courier on a fundamental level.

[ehhgg-art]

i hear a lot of talk about wash and a service animal but what about caboose’s service dog freckles?

after everything caboose has gone through likely without proper treatment or medical attention (i mean, we’ve all watched the show, right??) he probably has some underlying issues (“not to self diagnose but i think something is wrong” type of situation).

and so maybe once everything has calmed down and they all get back to earth tucker sets caboose up with some health professionals and helps him get a service dog (i’m thinking a shepherd of some kind. caboose could match their high energy).

and caboose loves the dog very much :) i think he might have put Freckles The Robot in retirement once he got to back earth since it’s not really acceptable to carry a gun into a grocery store like that. and since Freckles The Robot was really his support through a lot of traumatic events he had a hard time adjusting. but now he has Freckles The Dog !!! who he can play real fetch with and can go with him to the grocery store :)

[snootlestheangel]

Hi Snootles!

Thank you for the tag how about Ghoap (obviously lol) and the words “no we aren’t keeping it”

I hope your brain starts braining soon and you enjoy the holidays.

Hi friend!! I think the brain is indeed starting to brain again, and I hope you enjoy the holidays as well!

Civilian life was never meant for Soap, and he found himself struggling to sit still. They were on leave, a long one, in honor of their recent achievements, yet Soap felt it was a punishment. Some cruel joke from the powers that be. He had been up at the crack of dawn, had gone for a long run, come back and showered, and had eaten a decent sized breakfast all before Simon finally roused from slumber. He had reminded Soap of his namesake as he quietly sauntered out of the bedroom and wrapped himself around Soap in the kitchen.

"Steamin' Jesus, Si, yer gonna give me a fucking heart attack." Johnny muttered after flinching when Simon's warm hands made their way under his shirt. Simon hummed in acknowledgement, resting his chin on Soap's shoulder. Soap finished drying off the pan he used to make his breakfast, and pushed against Simon so he could move to put it away.

"I was about to head to the shop. Wanna come with?" Soap asked, leaning his head back against Ghost's broad chest, and the other rumbled something. He gently turned Soap around, placing a chaste kiss on the top of his head.

"I'll go. You need to rest, love."

"Ahm rested!" Soap argued, yet quickly gave in as Simon quirked a brow at him. A soft smile crossed Ghost's lips as he placed a gentle kiss on Soap's nose.

"I'll be quick, 'ow bout that?" Simon asked, and Soap frowned, nodding his head without looking at him. Simon chuckled, pulling him closer as he quietly asked for a kiss. With a roll of his eyes, Soap gave in, smiling into the kiss.

Ghost was quick to get ready, and before he knew it, Soap was left alone with the order to rest.

Roughly an hour and half later, and Soap was fully engulfed by a nature documentary he had stumbled across, and he paid little heed as Simon returned home. There was a lot of shuffling as Simon set the bags from his trip on the dining table, yet barely heard above the sounds of the TV was Ghost's quiet humming.

"Hey, Johnny, love?" Simon called out, and Soap paused the documentary as he waited for Simon to continue with his request.

"Can you grab a rag and wet it with warm water for the baby?"

"Aye." Soap responded, quickly jumping up and heading for the bathroom, thankful for something to do.

But as he reached the doorway, he paused.

"I'm sorry, for the what?" Soap asked as he turned to the kitchen. Simon's large frame stood hunched over slightly, cradling something in his hands. A flash of guilt crossed his face and his eyes fell to his hands.

"It was gonna die, Johnny." Simon responded, showing Soap the small gray kitten in his hands.

"We're no' keepin' it." Soap instantly blurted, staring at the little creature in disbelief. Simon made a small noise and pouted, doing his best to convince Johnny of keeping the poor, helpless thing. The kitten squealed, wriggling in Simon's hands, and Soap let out a heavy sigh as Simon softly cooed at it.

"Fine, at least until it gets bigger." Soap grumbled, and Simon smiled, knowing all too well how quickly that promise would be thrown out the window.

"Welcome home, Johnny."

[lajanbien6]

We keep our heads high and stay strong and even more willing with every obstacles that emerges ✅💪🇺🇸

[worstloki]

zionists don't realise it but saying 'this is the most jewish thing ever!' and 'people hate when jews do something clever' and and reporting it as 'innovative methods which carried out a precise military operation' and joking about ongoing attacks using everyday technology to injure thousands of civilians is not. good

[nando161mando]

'Israel' deliberately targets civilians to make up for its military incompetence

[lizzibennet]

extremely funny to me when people here make posts about completely benign, slightly interesting things that sound perfectly plausible in everyday conversation and the notes are all "i wish this actually happened" like sorry you're uninteresting and your conversations are all boring as fuck sometimes funny things really do just happen to people

[agenericplaceholdername]

Reminder that the Craglings are intelligent beings who have their own society and even poetry, and Wu and Garmadon respond to them by immediately attacking. The biggest crime the Craglings committed was walking slowly toward them WITH THEIR HANDS UP.

Will they re-form later? Hopefully, but for the Spinjitzu Brothers, murdering innocent rock people is just an average day.

You have to wonder where Lloyd got his "all life has value" ideology from because it clearly wasn't his father or mentor.

[seoul-bros]

Hobi's getting impatient!

I mean we already knew that with all his IG action over the last couple of weeks. Hang in there J-Hope less than two weeks to go.

Can't wait to see him swap his uniform for this

or this

or this

Post Date: 07/10/2024

[ghcstao3]

ghost owning a quaint, used/vintage bookshop that really is only able to continue to run mostly by a good word of mouth and the regular collectors. they all know him as quiet, a bit standoffish, kind of intimidating but really knowledgeable and passionate about the shop and its contents.

-

It’s not the sort of place Soap would frequent. But then again, with work, he hardly has a home and time to find his places—so when he’s forced on a relatively longterm medical leave, he finds himself keen on exploring more of the places nearby to his flat.

That’s how he comes across the bookshop—the place intrigues him, the way it somehow looks like it’s been stuck in a certain point in history and has never changed since. And as he steps in, he’s lured further by the smell of books and used pages, and some distant undercurrent of tea and sage.

But most of all, Soap is drawn in by the store’s owner, sitting tucked into his corner with a book of his own, twisted into some (surely) uncomfortable position as he reads. He looks peaceful, Soap thinks. And strong. Steady.

(Handsome.)

Soap browses before he dare disturb the man, picking out books here and there but never quite settling. He looks through spines more than he does descriptions, like he’s afraid even gentle touch would be damaging.

Until a deep, rumbling voice informs him from the desk in the corner, “The books don’t bite, you know. Unless your hands are dirty, you won’t ruin them.”

Instead of continuing to browse with this new advice, Soap finally drifts toward the man, curious. His steps are tentative, though difficult to hide with creaking floorboards. The man hasn’t even looked up from his book.

“And if my hands are dirty?” Soap jokes.

The man looks up, one eyebrow raised, and replies as dryly as possible, “Then don’t touch.”

His eyes are a wonderful shade of brown. Something deep and soothing, the colour of black coffee and the old leather-bound books all over the shelves of the shop. Soap can’t help but stare into them, fall into the abyss.

Soap huffs. “Fair enough,” he mutters. He wills himself to look away from the hard, unwavering gaze, and back to the endless novels he has yet to choose from.

What a great first impression he’s made.

Soap sways on his feet. Clears his throat in an attempt to dispel the silence since it doesn’t seem like the man would continue to initiate anything himself. “Have any recommendations, then?”

“No,” the man says. Then he sits back, sets his book down, looks Soap over. Considers something for a long moment. Finally tells soap, “Try the poetry section.”

Funnily enough, it’s one of the few sections Soap had barely glossed over, hardly a place he would think to look for something of interest—so he’s more inclined to oblige, leaving the man to return to his novel and quiet without Soap in the middle of it all.

And funnily enough, it’s there Soap’s eye is caught by an unassuming book, its cover green and worn, the gilded text describing title and author faint and chipped.

He doesn’t look through it after picking it off the shelf—Soap just knows, somehow.

Soap moves toward the desk, silently makes the purchase. The man somehow seems at peace with Soap’s decision as he slides over the book to finally be claimed by its new owner once he’s done his checkout process.

Soap doesn’t expect the man to say anything else to him—he hardly seems the type to wish the meaningless have a good day to customers—but to his surprise, the man says, “Make sure to come back if it’s any good.”

There’s something hidden in his expression, in the few words the man has again spoken. Soap just nods, thinking he’d come back even if the pages turned out blank.

He leaves the shop feeling oddly lighter. Something swirls in his chest as he walks home, the book tucked dutifully under the arm currently without a sling.

Maybe he should go exploring more.