#grants and foreign aid

[amereid1960]

العوامل المؤثرة على إنتاج الصناعة التحويلية في فلسطين

العوامل المؤثرة على إنتاج الصناعة التحويلية في فلسطين   العوامل المؤثرة على إنتاج الصناعة التحويلية في فلسطين الكاتب : الكحلوت هشام الملخص: هدفت الدراسة الحالية إلى التعرف على أهم العوامل المؤثرة في إنتاج الصناعة التحويلية في فلسطين وذلك بإجراء اختبار الأثر كل من الصادرات الصناعية، التضخم، الاستثمار الأجنبي المباشر، المنح والمساعدات الخارجية على إنتاج الصناعة التحويلية في فلسطين. وقد استخدمت…

[alewaanewspaper1960]

العوامل المؤثرة على إنتاج الصناعة التحويلية في فلسطين

العوامل المؤثرة على إنتاج الصناعة التحويلية في فلسطين   العوامل المؤثرة على إنتاج الصناعة التحويلية في فلسطين الكاتب : الكحلوت هشام الملخص: هدفت الدراسة الحالية إلى التعرف على أهم العوامل المؤثرة في إنتاج الصناعة التحويلية في فلسطين وذلك بإجراء اختبار الأثر كل من الصادرات الصناعية، التضخم، الاستثمار الأجنبي المباشر، المنح والمساعدات الخارجية على إنتاج الصناعة التحويلية في فلسطين. وقد استخدمت…

[otkuhotgirl]

─── 𝐃𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒

# with trafalgar water d. law.

it was said that those trapped inside his sphere were then nothing but a helpless patient on his operating table. law made sure you, too, would experience it.

⎰ & KINKTOBER, day three. medical play. glove kink. smut (mdni)! fingering (reader!receiving). freaky law. use of devil-fruit. double penetration. afab!reader.

WC: 2.5k

it was an agreement that the captain of a crew was the most valuable asset. law had matured into such a position with natural ease — powerful and intelligent; responsible and menacing — yet, his most arduous and important role relied neither on his battle skills nor on his plans. law was crucial to the lives of crew due to his extensive anatomical knowledge and the devil-fruit whose power could heal whatever ill. he was reliable, organized, logical. shame had no place within the walls of the infirmary, for law cared not for the cause of the disease or the placement of a pimple — instead, he all but strived to get rid of it.

the gratefulness and cheerful compliments thereafter were fuel to his ego, the confirmation that he had fulfilled his duties as a captain. law drew pleasure from the fact that he was one to execute a role unique amidst his crew. he had taught them concepts of medicine and surgery — to have a set of aiding hands, at least — but none of those with whom he shared the submarine were fit to nurse themselves to health. that diligent performance, more often than not, brought him a greater sense of power than the one granted by victorious battles.

it was an achievement; a task; his father’s legacy. law treated his patients with utmost professionalism, the character of their shared dynamic long forgotten if one had to be examined. it was a neutral space; undiscriminating. his ethics were thorough, his examination was immaculate. the mere thought of law losing focus during such instances was inconceivable. that was, of course, until you were the subject whose back pressed against the examination table.

the prelude itself had been virtuous. your limbs were sore during the aftermath of an arduous battle, minuscules cuts adorning your skin due to the offensive character of your opponent. law had insisted on treating you, regardless of how minor were the gashes. the memories were a vivid talon that had claimed his mind: your knee pressed against your chest as he stretched your muscles; the perspective from being atop your figure; your mellow breaths of relief whenever his fingers succeeded in undoing a tense knot. law had grown hot, then, forced to hasteness for the sudden tightness of his pants would be sure to denounce the perverted thoughts.

the second time was one of prolonged misery. a mosquito bite from a foreign island had left you bedridden; feverish. a frailer state of mind and manners, hazed by the consequences of a higher temperature. from soothing massages to the press of ice-cold thermal bags — your comfort became his most favored goal. the pain, however, proved to be overbearing, and the product of such given relieves came in the form of multiple moans. a press of his hand had you sighing; the cool, metal touch of his stethoscope against your burning skin made you beg for longer contact. whenever law dared to place a damp towel above your forehead, you’d lean into his touch and plead for him to stay.

yet, the occurrence that snapped the strained thread of his mind had been during a routine checkup. your mouth was open wide; law had a thin, small, wooden-stick on your tongue, striving to check on the health of your throat. he teased your gag-reflex, a gloved thumb pressed against your lower lip. law had lost his senses at the sight of your tears, the wild rise-and-fall of your chest, a context much too similar to that of a blowjob. the examination was cut short, and law had spent an entire hour in the shower right thereafter, fisting his cock; chasing a fleeting orgasm that had refused him, for your touch was its demand.

the infirmary shifted into a somewhat sinful ambience. the metal table was but a surface on which you could be ravaged. the stethoscope an instrument he could use to listen to the pace of your heartbeat, its increase gradual to his thrusts on your pussy. and the gloves. rubber moistened with your cum and spit; the act of stretching it near you, for it would then strike at the growing-sensible flesh. law wanted to witness the middle in which pain and pleasure converged — and you had been the chosen subject.

fleeting touches; warm breath hovering above your earlobe; the caress of your leg, under the table, with the point of his shoe. the guaranteeing of your restlessness coated in faux aloofness. when the teasing, at last, conquered its desired effect, law had the infirmary far more than prepared to receive your storm. his nape had burned under your gaze throughout the later hours of the afternoon, and when law stepped inside the maddening room, he was well-aware that you would be soon to follow.

he hid amidst the shadows, reveling in your confused-etched expression as you walked through the infirmary’s door. when you reached the center, law locked it, the force of its shutting enough to produce a loud, startling noise; echoing through the metal hallways of the submarine. you jumped, glancing at his frame placed by the door. law’s eyes drowned in the sight of you, thoughts swirling to the fantasies whose realization was of absurd importance.

“is something wrong, captain?” you inquired, arms crossed.

law’s steps were slow; calculated. he approached you as though a leopard surrounding its prey. you grew wary, retreating without forethought until your hip-bone collided with the examination table.

“how are you feeling tonight?” law grinned at the sight of your confusion, the increasing nervousness all but exciting him further.

the sound of his palms slamming on metal had you shrieking, yet law did not seem apologetic. he all but devoured your trapped figure, cursing the chaste knitting of the jumpsuit — though the sight of his crew’s symbol above your chest sent him a jolt of uncontrollable possessiveness.

“i’m fine,” you stuttered, clearing your throat and clinging to the fabric of your garment. “better than ever.”

“is that so?” law mused, pressing the back of his hand against your forehead. his fingers were but a hook on your chin; curled and unyielding. “you’re a bit pale, wouldn’t you agree?”

“captain, i don’t—”

“doctor,” he corrected through rough intonation, forcing the angle of your face to match his own.

“doctor,” you echoed. while the grunt of lust at the sound had been contained, the same could not be said about his member — a gradual erection, borderline painful.

he sighed in faux disappointment, allowing his hand to wander; to hover above your chest. “you leave me no choice but to examine you.”

you were left out of words, mouth agape as your mind struggled to wrap itself around that turn of events.

“sit. you know the drill,” he commanded, and once you had done as such, law turned on his back, striding towards the locked drawer whose contents were the ones adjusted to fulfill the standards of what he meant on doing. his movements were languid, patient. at the absence of sound on your part, law tsked, angling his head so as to glare at you. “strip.”

your spontaneous gasp of bewilderment had a smirk etching on his face. “captain, i— what?”

“doctor. and i don’t plan on repeating myself,” he scolded, fishing the stethoscope from its previous spot. “i taught you the proper way to listen to one’s heartbeat. forgot it already?”

“oh,” you breathed out sheepishly, tugging down the zipper of your jumpsuit. law at last understood the root of your hesitation, for you wore nothing but a bra underneath. his mouth dried up, and he dared not readjust his gaze. “i thought, well, nothing. it was silly.”

“no, please, enlighten me,” he requested, positioning the stethoscope around his neck.

the growth of tension escaped past your pores as though a leaking faucet. “just, with the touches and the glances, i figured you were in search of another thing entirely.”

“and what would that be?”

your movements ceased midway, the upper half of the jumpsuit a dangling fabric at your sides. you hid your face from his glance, though his focus remained on the inviting sight of your cleavage.

“you know—”

“i do not,” law detached his figure from its previous support spot on the table’s edge, languid steps guiding him to you. “and a decent patient does not keep secrets from their doctor.”

you were caged, forced to lean back as law angled himself forward. the sudden exchange of energy, due to the temperature divergence between your spine and the metal, made you hiss. your back arched out of instinct; your chest pressed against his own as a consequence. mere inches separated his face from yours, his breath fluttering your eyelashes. your pupils dilated when law tossed his blue coat aside, the half-unbuttoned shirt he wore doing nothing to shelter his bare abdomen and chest from your lustful eyes.

you gulped; wild rise-and-fall of chest. “sex.”

he hummed, putting on the stethoscope’s ear pieces. its chest piece teased the warmth of your skin, movements too erratic to catch the proper pace of your heartbeat. “i can’t hear you, say it louder.”

you were aghast, stuttering as he smirked with malice. sentences sounded muffled; chaotic breathing hindering the performance of the tool. law placed the stethoscope aside, feigning dissatisfaction.

“it seems i’ll have to scan it closer on,” he stated, a twist of his wrist enough to teleport your heart to the palm of his hand.

it was a beating wonder; a rampant pace. the source of your life secured in between his teasing fingers. clutching it would have you howling in pain, stabbing it would reap your soul; an unfathomable, despising, thought. when it came to the negative consequences to a severe act of violence committed to one’s heart, law was well-versed. the soothing touches, however, were unprecedented territory — for now.

law drew your heart closer to his mouth, ever-so-tender. he blew a careful gust of air over the delicate flesh, and the kiss thereafter tore a devastating moan from your lips. droplets of sweat bubbled from your pores; your pupils buried the tone of your irises; your limbs all but trembled. law failed to contain a groan, losing balance at the blood flowing through his aching cock. he was desperate to witness that reaction yet again.

“take it all off,” he instructed, voice coming out strained due to the effort to keep himself from crumbling.

he laid your entire body on the examination table, struggling to ignore your whimpers as the fabric slid down your legs. law sliced the rubber gloves, discarding the pieces meant for the palms.

“room,” law detached his fingers, guiding them to the glove holes; covering them in rubber. he returned to you, breath catching at the sight of your body, bare and trembling, a marvel bestowed upon him. “the doctor will see you now.”

“please, doctor,” you mewled. “heal me.”

without further ado, granted the privilege of his devil-fruit, law guided his floating fingers to your cunt. a gloved thumb teased your clit through circular movements, two fingers parting your folds. he was aghast at the amount of lubrification caused by the mere press of his lips on your heart. law shoved his middle-finger into your cunt, coating the rubber with your essence. a loud whimper had his cock aching, and law grew worried, much too selfish to share your sounds with the external environment.

“silent,” he rasped, latching his lips to your heart, leaving a trail of kisses on the flesh. your back arched, a muted moan tearing through your throat.

he witnessed the squirming of your body; the violent trembling of your legs. his ring finger accompanied his middle one, scissoring your cunt as his thumb maintained a stable eight-pattern on your clit. law’s warm tongue teased your heart, and the shout of pleasure whose sound the barrier had silenced was his latest straw. law undid it, shoving his index and minor finger into your mouth.

“suck it,” law commanded, having your spit coat the rubber. his mouth dried, a wet patch visible on the fabric of his pants.

the swirling of your tongue around his fingers had his cock twitching, yet law had no hands available to unbutton the belt. he clicked his tongue, and the fingers inside your holes had switched, activating his devil-fruit regardless of the detachment.

“shambles,” his pants and underwear teleported to a meaningless spot.

law detached his cock and removed the pair of fingers from your cunt, for the particular warmth and wetness were meant to be claimed by his cum.

“doctor,” you babbled, voice muffled by his fingers, tears rolling down your cheeks as he applied pressure to the entrance of your ass. “it’s too—ngh much.”

“you’re still sick,” he cooed, teasing your folds with the tip of his member. “and i must treat it. can we proceed with it?”

you nodded, gagging when he shoved his fingers deeper — unrestrained by the confines of his tendons.

“speak,” he insisted, neglecting your inability to produce proper words.

“yes,” you cried out, sending vibrations through his fingers.

“yes what?” law snapped, teasing your entrance with the tip of his middle-finger.

“yes, doctor,” you coaxed in sheer desperation, trembling with need.

law hummed with satisfaction, careful during the insertion on your butthole. the rubber had enough of your essence to serve as a form of lubricant, yet he wished not for you to feel pain. his tongue licked strips on your heart, and your throat produced but an orchestra of boisterous moans, half its sound muffled. a never-ending pace of kisses to your wildly beating heart served as decent distraction, and when law slid his middle and ring fingers into your ass, you barely ever felt it.

your high was a powerful force, drowning his floating cock in your cum. law trembled, rutting his hips out of instinct, the movement itself useless as his member was no longer attached to his body. law marveled at the sight of you, covered in sweat and spit; squirting all over the examination table. he was drawn closer as though a senseless sailor to a siren’s aria, lost in your contorting features, the pleasure written all over.

your eyes met his, wet with past tears. “can i treat you, still?”

law feared that he had crossed a line, far gone in his bliss to remind himself that, although there were no limits to what he was willing to give you, the same could not be said about how much you were capable of receiving.

yet, after a minute, your breathing stabilized and your cheeks briefly hollowed, tongue swirling around his fingers. he removed them, if only to facilitate your speaking.

your voice was meek; hoarse. “treat me ‘til the end, doctor.”

he groaned when your lips parted, head weakly moving to accommodate his fingers. law’s member started to stretch you out, making itself at home within the walls of your cunt. you trembled, sensitive, and law moaned as his cock was coated with the essence from the previous squirting. he paid attention to your expression, fingers scissoring inside your butthole as he matched the pace with that established by his cock.

law caressed your heart, busying his mouth with the press of soothing kisses on your face. he shoved his cock past what was humanly possible, brushing the tip on your cervix; returning it to your entrance and ramming it inside yet again. your moans were the most entrancing melody he had heard, and law caught himself comfortable enough to produce similar sounds.

you tightened around both his fingers and cock; cunt and ass giving in to the overbearing tides of pleasure. your voice failed you, and law had his fingers removed from your mouth in order to listen to the sound of your bliss without restraints. the veins of his members twitched; he felt the knot close to its undoing. yet, it was the bulge of his tip visible through your stomach that had his vision covered in dark spots.

his grip left your heart — out of safety — as his orgasm washed over him, converging with your cum. he rode his high, careful as to observe your face and retrieve once the stimulation became too much. you were left limp on the table, a brief vocal command of his devil-fruit returning the detached limbs to his body. he threw the damp gloves on the trash can, and helped you sit, holding your heart in order to return it to your chest.

when you kissed it — shuddering at your own touch — and observed him through your eyelashes, law, however, became more than willing to ruin the infirmary further.

— 🐈‍⬛ : dear lord this was nasty. i love kinktober.

[zvaigzdelasas]

The International Court of Justice has issued a ground-breaking decision in South Africa’s genocide case against Israel, ordering Israel to comply with six provisional measures to safeguard the right of Palestinians in Gaza to be protected from genocidal violence.

The court’s order is binding on Israel and formalizes the international legal obligations of other countries that are parties to the UN Genocide Convention.

Properly understood, the order should dramatically alter both the foreign and domestic policy decisions of Israel’s allies, including Canada and the United States.

Israel and its allies cannot dismiss or minimize the importance of this decision. In granting interim relief, the court concluded that South Africa’s allegations of genocide are, at a minimum, legally and factually plausible.

Crucially, the court expressly concluded, by an overwhelming majority, that Palestinians in Gaza face a “real and imminent risk” of genocide. This puts other countries on notice that they have an international legal duty to take steps to prevent genocide in Gaza in accordance with the court’s order.

As the court stated in a 2007 ruling when Bosnia accused Serbia of genocide, countries that are parties to the Genocide Convention have an obligation to prevent and a corresponding duty to act “the instant that the state learns of, or should normally have learned of, the existence of a serious risk that genocide will be committed.”

Both Canada and the U.S. have construed the court’s decision narrowly, suggesting it merely reiterates Israel’s right of self-defence and obligation to comply with international humanitarian law.

This is a legally indefensible reading of the court’s ruling.[...]

Statements of political support by the U.S. and Canada that Israel is abiding by the laws of war — contrary to the facts — cannot shield Israel or its allies from their legal obligations under the Genocide Convention. Those obligations — including to prevent genocide — are created via treaty and are interpreted by courts, the highest of which is the International Court of Justice.

The obligation to prevent genocide, combined with the court’s finding of a serious risk of genocide, means that all parties to the Genocide Convention must refrain from taking steps that would actively frustrate the effective implementation of the court’s order.[...]

But just hours after the court’s ruling, the U.S. announced it was suspending funding for the United Nations Relief and Works Agency for Palestine Refugees in the Near East.[...]

The U.S. is the biggest financial contributor to UNRWA. Several other key donor countries, including Canada, quickly followed suit.

UNRWA is the largest aid provider in Gaza and a trusted lifeline to civilians in the territory. Even if the allegations are true, defunding the entire organization openly defies the court’s order and amounts to collective punishment of the civilian population in Gaza

Disturbingly, moves to defund UNRWA appear to help implement Israeli government plans to undermine the organization’s capacity to deliver aid to Palestinians in Gaza. Earlier this month, policy experts told the Knesset that UNRWA “must be dismantled and thrown in the dustbin of history” and that “no country that is a friend of Israel should provide them any money.”

The ICJ found that “the catastrophic humanitarian situation in the Gaza Strip is at serious risk of deteriorating further,” plausibly inflicting conditions of life calculated to bring about the physical destruction of Palestinians in Gaza.

Accordingly, any country’s action knowingly contributing to further deterioration would violate the obligation to prevent genocide and could amount to complicity in genocide.[...]

In 2022, Canada sent more than $21 million worth of military exports to Israel. The Export and Import Permits Act forbids arms permits to be issued if there’s a “substantial risk” that the goods could be used to commit or facilitate serious violations of international humanitarian or human rights law.

Because the ICJ found a serious risk of genocide in Gaza, continuing to export arms to Israel would be illegal. It would also be flagrantly inconsistent with Canada’s obligation to prevent genocide, and could expose Canada and Canadian officials to liability for participation in genocide.

We must reject the politics of deliberate indifference to atrocity currently on display in the Canadian government’s reactions to the ICJ ruling.

28 Jan 24

[metamatar]

One of the world’s top arms exporters, Israel exports annually as much as $7 billion worth of military technology, or 2.2 percent of its Gross Domestic Product. An additional 1.35 percent of GDP is dedicated to military research and development, and 6.7 percent is spent on its defense budget— the world’s second largest military budget as a percentage of GDP after Saudi Arabia. All told, 10.25 percent of the Israeli economy is involved directly in arms. Comparatively, for the United States, the world’s top weapons exporter, arms account for around 3.7 percent of its economy. Israel is actually the world’s largest arms supplier per capita, according to data from the Stockholm International Peace Research Institute and the World Bank, at ninety-eight dollars; it is followed by a distant Russia at fifty-eight dollars, and Sweden at fifty-three dollars.

These figures do not include the contribution from natural resources exploited under occupation in the West Bank and Gaza.50 They do not factor in the service sector’s revenue or general industry and construction taking place in the West Bank. Such figures are difficult to quantify, since many companies operate in the West Bank but have offices in Tel Aviv to obscure where operations take place. Nor does this account for Israeli exports into the Occupied Territories, which are 72 percent of Palestinian imports and 0.16 percent of Israeli GDP. All told, the Israeli economy is deeply involved in a web of expenditure and profit around the ongoing occupation and expansion of settlements.

American military aid supplanting open-ended government grants has had the effect of increasing arms production and diminishing the overall economic reach of the state. No longer is foreign aid and imperialist incentive directly invested in the working class. Israeli workers are now rewarded through the arms economy. This is why, despite the lack of social mobility and the economic degradation of neoliberalism, the working class remains committed as ever to Zionism.

The working class has become dependent on the education, housing, and career opportunities that their participation in the IDF affords them. They have found routes for advancement in the military-fueled high-tech industry, with over 9 percent of workers concentrated in high-tech. And as pensions and real wages are eroded, the cheaper cost of settlement living in the Occupied Territories has become essential.

[sayruq]

FOREIGN Secretary David Cameron approved continuing arms exports to Israel just two days after the country’s military killed three British aid workers, court documents have revealed. The news comes after the High Court reversed a previous dismissal of a case against the exports brought by the UK-based Global Legal Action Network (GLAN) and the Al-Haq human rights organisation, which is based in the Palestinian West Bank. At an appeal hearing on Tuesday, the two groups were granted a full judicial review hearing challenging the UK Government's failure to halt weapons exports to Israel, which is set for October. The groups say exported weapons and parts risk being used in violations of international humanitarian law in Gaza.According to the UK Government’s export licencing criteria, Tory ministers must block arms sales if there is “a clear risk” that weapons might be used to commit or facilitate “internal repression” or “a serious violation of international humanitarian law”. At the High Court hearing on Tuesday, the Tory government’s lawyers did not argue that the case against arms exports is inarguable, instead saying that the court hasn’t seen all the relevant documents and that they can only be shared in closed, secret proceedings due to national security.

[city-of-ladies]

Wu Shuqing and the revolutionary women's troops

Revolutionary women fighting at Nanjing

In 1911, revolutionaries in southern China rose up against the Manchu-led Qing Dynasty. Their successful uprising brought an end to the imperial system and ushered in the early republican era. Moved by both patriotism and feminist ideals, women joined the movement.

Wu Shuqing’s women’s troop

Wu Shuqing, a 19-year-old student from Hanyang, was one of these women. Alongside two others, she wrote to revolutionary leader Li Yuanhong, asking for permission to fight. He initially refused, arguing that integrating women into an all-male army would be too difficult.

But Wu Shuqing didn’t back down. She responded by asserting that there was no difference between men and women when it came to fighting a revolution:

“Were they to hear that the nation was conscripting troops, farmers would lay down their hoes and laborers would abandon their tools. In high spirit they would go off and become soldiers. Even teachers and students in school would all have to become troops. The people are the starting point for society, and society is the point at which the state begins. The people are thus of major importance in terms of victory and defeat of the state. If we do not now come to the aid of the great Han people and wipe out the Manchu bastards, we will assuredly earn the slander of foreigners. In the north sits powerful Russia and majestic Great Britain. Our country faces great dangers on that front. I seek no instant glory. I merely want to join the troops in fighting northward, giving my life in pursuit of the enemy, killing the Manchus. Only then will our Han race be avenged.”

Wu Shuqing’s request was granted, and a women’s troop was formed.

The women’s troop at the front

The exact number of women who joined is unclear, with reports suggesting several hundred. They underwent military training before being sent to the front lines.

Wu Shuqing led them into combat. She participated in a campaign against the Qing at Hankou. During the battle for Nanjing, she and her troops devised a plan to occupy the fort at Shizishan, opening a path for the revolutionary army.

Many women’s forces and organizations were formed in quick succession, though not all of them saw battle.

The sisters Yin Weijun and Yin Ruizhi became famous for their skill in bomb-making and explosives. They earned respect during the battles against the Qing for their daring bombing raids.

Though Yin Ruizhi was wounded, her sister went on to create another unit, the Zhejiang Women’s Nationalist Army, leading them into battle. Over 30 women from this unit fought to liberate Nanjing. They attacked three forts, occupied Yuhatai, scaled ladders over the city walls, and entered Nanjing on December 2. Eyewitnesses praised their bravery and combat effectiveness. However, the troop was later disbanded as the commander-in-chief did not believe women could handle a long-term expedition.

The Yin sisters in military attire.

A third women’s troop also participated in the battle for Nanjing, providing first-aid and logistical support.

A fourth women’s unit, the Guandong Women’s Northern Expedition Bombing Team, was led by Xu Mulan. A hundred female soldiers fought at Xu Zhou.

Though women made up only a small fraction of the revolutionary forces, they played a vital role in the overall movement. For some, their military involvement became a way to express their political ideals and ensure the possibility of an egalitarian society in the future republic. Some of these women also became outspoken advocates for women’s suffrage.

Aftermath

Most women’s armies were discharged in 1912 after a compromise was reached between the revolutionaries and the northern forces. Many female soldiers were left frustrated, feeling that their contributions were undervalued, especially as all positions in the provisional government were given to men.

Wu Shuqing’s whereabouts after the revolution remain unknown.

Here is the link to my Ko-Fi. Your support would be much appreciated!

Further reading:

Edwards Louise, Gender, Politics, and Democracy: Women's Suffrage in China

Ono Kazuko, Chinese Women in a Century of Revolution, 1850-1950

Li Xiaolin, Women in the Chinese Military 

[aqlstar]

JVP and Cair Background - Holy Land Foundation

Okay Jumblr- are we familiar with the Holy Land Foundation and the case of USA v. HLF?

The Holy Land Foundation was the undisputed single largest Islamic charity organization in the USA, until it was shut down in 2001 after Bush added it to the list of designated terrorist organizations. It was a big deal.

Fast forward to 2007, and the US government is prosecuting a criminal case against them.

The US Court of Appeals 5th Circuit issued an opinion that summarizes the jist of the case more clearly than I can-

In this consolidated case, we address the appeals of five individuals and one corporate defendant convicted of conspiracy and substantive offenses for providing material aid and support to a designated terrorist organization. The terrorist organization at issue is Hamas, which in 1995 was named a Specially Designated Terrorist by Presidential Executive Order pursuant to authority granted by the International Emergency Economic Powers Act, 50 U.S.C. § 1701 et seq. Hamas was further designated as a Foreign Terrorist Organization in 1997, as contemplated by 18 U.S.C. § 2339B.

Although this case is related to terrorism, it does not involve charges of specific terrorist acts. Instead, it focuses on the defendants’ financial support for terrorism and a terrorist ideology. The defendants were charged with aiding Hamas by raising funds through the corporate entity Holy Land Foundation for Relief and Development, a Texas-based, pro-Palestinian charity that the Government charged was created for the sole purpose of acting as a financing arm for Hamas. Although the charged conspiracy began in 1995 when Hamas was first designated as a terrorist organization, the defendants’ connection to Hamas arose much earlier. Established in the late 1980s, the Holy Land Foundation held itself out as the largest Muslim charitable organization in the United States. It raised millions of dollars over the course of its existence that were then funneled to Hamas through various charitable entities in the West Bank and Gaza. Although these entities performed some legitimate charitable functions, they were actually Hamas social institutions. By supporting such entities, the defendants facilitated Hamas’s activity by furthering its popularity among Palestinians and by providing a funding resource. This, in turn, allowed Hamas to concentrate its efforts on violent activity.

The results of the case were as follows:

Shukri Abu Baker, 50, of Garland, Texas, was sentenced to a total of 65 years in prison. He was convicted of 10 counts of conspiracy to provide, and the provision of, material support to a designated foreign terrorist organization; 11 counts of conspiracy to provide, and the provision of, funds, goods and services to a Specially Designated Terrorist; 10 counts of conspiracy to commit, and the commission of, money laundering; one count of conspiracy to impede and impair the Internal Revenue Service (IRS); and one count of filing a false tax return.

Mohammad El-Mezain, 55, of San Diego, California, was sentenced to the statutory maximum of 15 years in prison. He was convicted on one count of conspiracy to provide material support to a designated foreign terrorist organization.

Ghassan Elashi, 55, of Richardson, Texas, was sentenced to a total of 65 years in prison. He was convicted on the same counts as Abu Baker, and one additional count of filing a false tax return.

Mufid Abdulqader, 49, of Richardson, Texas, was sentenced to a total of 20 years in prison. He was convicted on one count of conspiracy to provide material support to a designated foreign terrorist organization, one count of conspiracy to provide goods, funds, and services to a specially designated terrorist, and one count of conspiracy to commit money laundering.

Abdulrahman Odeh, 49, of Patterson, New Jersey, was sentenced to 15 years in prison. He was convicted on the same counts as Abdulqader.

HLF, now defunct, was convicted on 10 counts of conspiracy to provide, and the provision of, material support to a designated foreign terrorist organization; 11 counts of conspiracy to provide, and the provision of, funds, goods and services to a Specially Designated Terrorist; and 10 counts of conspiracy to commit, and the commission of, money laundering.

The Court reaffirmed the jury’s $12.4 million money judgment against all the defendants, with the exception of El Mezain, who was not convicted of money laundering.

Here's the full press release from the US DoJ-

I promise I'll get to the part where this has anything to do with CAIR or JVP in the next post.

[velvet-paradox]

Stay (ch. 2)

Fandom: Call of Duty Pairing: Viking!König x Female reader Length: Medium

Meeting some of the KorTac clan - Aiding The Collector - A wrong to make it right

The first night with the KorTac clan was humiliating.

After all the ogling and rude remarks as you were dragged through the street wasn't enough, you were made to sit at The Collectors' feet, while he feasted on meat, bread and ale. You were fed scraps.

As you ate greedily after the whole ordeal, the women of the tribe took pity on you, whisking you away to be scrubbed clean, shedding you of your clothes, given a new dress at least in a complimentary color as you ate and took in your new surroundings. Music was played in their great hall.

Another burly man came to König on the throne, talked about as if you weren't really there. Some toy, some play thing, some pet. You tore off a piece of bread with your teeth in earnest.

"Found a wife, did you König?"

"Hardly."

"How positively sad then, maybe she'll make someone else an honest man."

"Doubt it. No one is to touch her but me, understood?"

You'd later find out that his name was Soap.

He'd be the one to lead you out and around the dining hall, a firm grip on the back of your arm (granted permission by The Collector of course)that left little to the imagination that if you were foolish, he'd put you in the ground without a blink of an eye. He didn't even speak to you.

The room was lit with torches at each of its' four corners, shadows danced and swayed when Soap had opened the door, there was a decently made bed against the wall, draped in furs and blankets of turquoise and deep reds.

" 'at door there, only opens from one side. His side." Soap finally spoke, leaning against the doorframe, leisurely looking you up and down uncomfortably as you examined the room. "I don't know what he plans to do with ye' but it ain't gonna' be pretty or nice. Best stay on his good side, lass. You surely don't want to end up like the last one."

And without another word, he shut and locked the door behind him. You sat on the bed and waited for the unknown future.

….

Some days you didn't even see König. Left alone in that room, thankfully not a smelly cell below ground, left and forgotten about until you were nothing but bones. You made use of those quiet days, you'd found some hay stashed in a trunk and made yourself a broom.

You were given some sort of flat type of shoe that just didn't feel right. You were already wearing foreign clothes, now shoes too?

This was only meant to be a temporary stay and yet the KorTac clan had been treating you well.

As if you'd never see your parents again.

Your parents. Another night of crying yourself to sleep over them was looked promising. And that meant another curious look from one of the women or König, if he decided to collect you.

The next morning the door, from his side, unlocked and eased open with the toe of his boot. He stood at attention once he ducked inside. He took up the entire doorframe.

"We are going out," he stated and threw you your clothes, freshly laundered and stiff. Followed by your boots. "You'll need to be ready for what we are going to do today."

"What are we doing?"

"Not asking questions is one." König remarked, remaining still. Like a statue.

He only turned around when you pulled at the strings of your dress, only looking over his shoulder when you had finished. He watched you put on your boots, you barely had time to fix your hair when he lunged forward and grabbed your wrist. He bound you with that same cordage, leashing you to him.

Soap got a real laugh out of that.

….

Kim 'Horangi' Hong-Jin greeted you and The Collector with warm regards. This guy at least acknowledged you. He had greeted you at the gates of his village, the exposed and bleached bone of a whale welcomed you in. You'd never seen anything like it. It was the ribcage, perfectly displayed like a canopy.

König dropped his hand to your shoulder, keeping you close as you moved from house to house while Horangi watched on, munching on a juicy apple.

The Collector gave his signature knock, one you knew well, but from the outside, watching the behemoth use his forearm instead was something else entirely.

You were now an accomplice, aiding the boogeyman in his rounds. The sack Soap had tossed at you when you left the village was getting gaining weight. The coins clinking together as you two went door to door, these people were absoutely terrified and with good reason.

He was even scary in his sleep!

What sort of dreams did a man like that have anyway?

König thanked Horangi with a personal handshake and headbutt. "You're better than a pack mule." König snorted, chuckling to himself as you two moved on to the next town.

More money, more scared and frightened faces. Children hid, in the last town even the chickens held their clucking when you passed by. A village that reminded you of home made you wince when The Collector grabbed a young man up until his feet dangled and shook him like a cloth doll.

He was vicious and violent and cruel.

Ruthless.

A dangerous individual.

Dinner that evening was just the same as it had been. You'd been gifted a pillow to sit on, yet you still ate at his feet and no longer were tossed scraps but you got a whole plate to yourself. Day eight and not a word from your father, no carrier was sent out to the KorTac clan in your favor.

You started to dissolve your thinking that maybe these people knew more than they were letting on. Maybe there was word from your parents. Maybe they chose not to tell you! Being isolated for so long was weighing down your shoulders like a soggy blanket.

"Oh, sorry pet, didn't see you down there." Another head covered man bumped into you on his hot pursuit to speak with König, his right hand man, covered in wolf pelts and broad.

That's what they called you. Your name was erased. Just pet.

He was the one to find you crying in the hallway just outside your forsaken room after dinner. Again, bumping into you. For the KorTac clan to wear face coverings, one might think their eyesight might be somewhat enhanced.

Kruger bent down on one knee, dared touch your face to make you look at him.

"Why do you cry so much?"

"What?" You sniffled and he still held your face. Maybe he has a death wish, you thought.

"You're always crying."

"That's because I am punished here!" You shout and push away from him and the wall. "Wouldn't you be? König dragged me from my home because he up and decided he wanted to change course of payment days. Without fair notice and now I'm locked here with you people. I don't even know if I'll ever see my parents again!"

With that said, you burst into even more tears. Covering your face with your hands was worse, it just made you hotter and more upset that there was absolutely no one here who would, want or could console you.

"Do you feel like a prisoner, pet?"

"I am one! I don't want to be here anymore."

"Kruger!" König's booming voice seemed to flutter around the entire hall, his boots sounded deafening. "You had better not be the one to bring my pet to tears! I will have your throat."

Kruger straightened up quickly and backed away, adjusting his head covering and the wolf fur that hangs off his shoulders. Not like The Collectors cloak, its as deep and lush as the forest that surrounds the village.

He looks down at you wiping your face, trying to catch your breath.

Your chin jitters.

"No, sir."

"Leave us." Is all he says and you turn to take your leave into your room but are stopped, König's hand is on your wrist in an almost intimate manner. Which is shocking and somehow even more terrifying. "Not you."

Kruger left you in the hallway, made sure he was gone and out of sight before entering your chamber. The gust of wind from him opening the door made your bedroom torches crackle and sputter about as he dragged you behind him. He'd only stood in your adjacent doorway, so to see him and have him here in you, in the room you've been tidying to your liking until your father can pay out was - strange.

"Sit."

You sniffled and did as was asked. Still too afraid to ask what happened to the last ransom captive. You obeyed without question. You wrung your hands together as you watched the big man pace.

"They can't keep seeing you crying, you know? Their going to start thinking I'm breaking you apart every night."

"You might as well at this point. Am I ever going home?"

"That's up to your parents, not me." König said with a scoff, as if this wasn't he whole ensemble, he orchestrated this madness to begin with! He's the one that switched up payday to begin with, this was his fault, his doing and the more you sat there and how could König be so passive about it? Too much. It was all too much!

Without warning you sprung up and shoved him, he didn't move much but he looked down at you with narrowed eyes.

"This is your fault!" You pushed him again and for some reason, or maybe you imagined it, he did move this time. "This is all your fault! You did this to me."

"I did it for your own good!"

"That doesn't even make any sense, none of this makes sense. I'm stuck in limbo," you shouted and shoved at him once more, he allowed you, actually allowed you to move him back towards the wall. "I'm stuck in this room! I'm stuck with your clan a-and for what? A failed payment, on a day that you chose!"

König sighed.

"Is this some sick joke? I've been here for a month now, no word from my father, no word from my mother… have you? Have you had word from them, Collector?"

"I have."

Your lashes clumped together, eyes welling up when he crossed his arms and looked away to one of the torches. "You… you have? When? Why didn't you notify me, I'm losing my mind in here."

"Last week."

"What? What do you mean last week? I was here, I've been here! I did not see him."

"No, pet you wouldn't would you? Do remember when I asked Soap to take you to Keeva the seamstress for some mending?"

You were the on to pace now. Of course you remember, it was the first time you were allowed out of his sight and untethered to another person. Keeva was the sweetest one out of the entirety of the KorTac clan. She was round and full, waddling down the muddy lane with you in tow, both of you carrying clothes from the great hall.

"…yes."

"He came the village, alone. You were right," König shrugged and shook his head. "Times are a little tough for your family, they can barely feed themselves. Your father only had half of what is due anyhow."

"Then… how long did he say? An estimate, even."

"No idea. But he did offer me something far more than its' worth."

You shivered. The hairs on the back on your arms prickled.

König then pulled out a familiar bracelet. It was passed down to your mother from her mother and so on. It was to be treasured, worn with grace and beauty. Carrying on. But now, in all its' emerald glory, still pretty as ever, it looked dirty in his palm.

He held it out to you.

"Why do you have that?" Your voice cracking and watery. Your throat threatening to close in on itself like a dune of sand. Blood pounded in your ears.

The Collector cocked his head and once again urged you to take the jewelry.

"Your father gave it to me," his hold on your wrist was tight, but not forceful. Careful, would be the closest thing you could think of when he slipped it on for you. "To give to you."

"W-why?"

"He can't pay me in gold or coin." The Collectors voice deepened and you've never felt smaller than what came out of his treacherous mouth.

No no nonopleaasenopleasenono…

"What he can pay me in is this. And you."

[akatsukitrash]

Wait I wanna know what makes MinaKushi toxic 👀

Honestly when it comes to comparing this ship to other canon ships, it’s not that terrible. However I really don’t see what people mean when they say it’s a beautiful romance and a healthy relationship. Obviously a lot of it comes from Kishimoto’s inability to write female characters without 500 sexist tropes, eg. Kushina abandoning her dream of becoming Hokage and instead making her husband Hokage while she stays at home getting pregnant (a pregnancy that’s incredibly dangerous! And we’re supposed to believe Minato loves her more than anything when he willingly impregnates her). Their first meeting was cute, alright, but then Minato just lets her get bullied. Sure he does offhandedly say later that it’s because she’s strong and he trusts her, and she is, but he could’ve offered his friendship, instead of spying on her (I also find it interesting how Hinata, who canonically kept trying to befriend Naruto, is presented as a stalker by the fandom and called misogynistic insults, but Minato, who does stalk Kushina and doesn’t try to befriend her, is called romantic). Standing by while someone is getting bullied (and I can’t remember if it happened in the manga or the anime but one of her bullies threw actual kunai at her, so it escalated to the point of attempted murder) is being complicit. Yeah he was a kid, but I think we can acknowledge it was a bad move on his part and Kushina wasn’t being a bitch for disliking him, like I’ve seen a lot of fans imply. 

The kidnapping scene is…well. Minato wasn't necessarily being toxic there (still stupid to go after grown ass Jonins instead of alerting authorities, but I guess Naruto had to get his saviour complex from somewhere) but again. Sexist writing. It also implies Kushina is only into Minato because he saved her, there isn’t really any indication that she likes him as a person, and they start dating right away as children. 

Then we get to adult them and that’s where the power imbalance is really bad. Kushina is a genocide survivor who’s completely cut off from her original culture and even exiled from her country, she’s inherently in a vulnerable state especially because she has no support system due to being a hated jinchuuriki, and we don’t see any bond outside Minato, with the sole exception of Mikoto, who’s part of an oppressed minority. At the time, the Uchiha weren’t being spied on nor pushed to the outskirts of the village, granted, so most of the oppression we see them face hasn’t happened yet, but it’s safe to assume that Mikoto doesn’t have the power to help Kushina. Meanwhile, Minato has ties to the Hokage, to one of the Sannin, has his own genin team, etc. He has a life outside Kushina, and the power to punish her socially and legally if she steps out of line. Kushina is confined to being his girlfriend (there is no mention of marriage so I’m gonna assume they weren’t married), she’s viewed with suspicion (at best) while he’s viewed as a hero, and she is stuck in a village whose culture is completely foreign to her and which has been actively hostile towards hers (their mockery of her Uzumaki features + the fact Konoha didn’t come to Uzushio’s aid). His whole reputation as a powerful shinobi is entirely built off the back of the Uzumaki clan. Most of his jutsus were taught to him by Kushina, who’s kept away from the Hokage position despite mastering them better than him on top of having the hiden jutsu Adamantine Chains (which we’ve seen can bind Kyuubi even while she was weakened by both Bijuu extraction and childbirth, and we see Karin use it to destroy the Buddha Mokuton jutsu which is a jutsu Hashirama uses to defeat Susanoo-clad Kyuubi, and Orochimaru says Karin’s chains are weaker than Kushina) + her being the Jinchuuriki of the most powerful Bijuu and having a very strong will and chakra to suppress him. There is no reason she was kept from being Hokage that’s not pure xenophobia and sexism. The Yellow Flash only exists because the Uzumaki clan was massacred, and there is nothing that shows he cared enough to preserve her culture, find survivors, or anything to repay the Uzumaki clan. It feels very exploitative. The only two jutsus he uses that aren’t Uzumaki related are the Rasengan (which he admits is his own less powerful version of a Bijuudama, something Kushina has used as a Jinchuuriki of Kyuubi) and Hiraishin, a jutsu invented by SENJU Tobirama, who belongs to a clan related to the Uzumaki, and who gets no credit from Minato, which again ties back to Minato only using the Uzumaki to further his career while doing nothing to help them. It also feels a lot like he’s trying to cosplay Hashirama (even going as far as mirroring Hashirama’s behavior in the War arc despite having a completly different personally pre-Edo Tensei) but that’s a whole other can of worms.

Of course, a lot of those are circumstances that are mostly outside of Minato’s control, but he doesn’t make things better, and it does establish an environment where Kushina is essentially tied to him as her sole provider of attention and love and as a man who holds an incredibly amount of political and societal leverage over her, while exploiting her heritage with no credit and no reward for her as a person and shinobi. And he does use it against her eventually. While he gets to tell Kakashi about her pregnancy and have him guard her day and night, and is free to meet people as he pleases, she’s kept away from her only friend Mikoto, to the point where she didn’t know that Mikoto was pregnant with a boy and not a girl, and wasn’t able to be present at the birth or even the days following the birth (Sasuke was born in July, so he was about two months and a half when Kushina finally saw him BY ACCIDENT). That is an insane level of isolation and while we’re told it’s for “her own good”, for me it just shows Minato doesn’t care about her as a person + is himself filled with bigotry towards the Uchiha. 

We also know that Kushina kept being discriminated against for her appearance as a “foreigner” and that she felt like only Minato could love her (or rather her red hair) and that much of her self worth hinges on Minato’s love of her hair. So again, I’m rehashing this point, but it’s crucial to see that the relationship was never equal. 

Where Minato gets seriously toxic though is Naruto’s birth. He simply ignored her wishes, which confirmed my assumptions earlier of him not seeing her as a person but as a concept, and her culture as just an accessory he can throw away whenever he wants. Using an Uzumaki jutsu to put her son through the unbelievable horror and pain of being Jinchuuriki (while not even being sure Naruto would survive having a Bijuu inside him) is beyond bigoted. Her begging doesn’t phase him. Her asking him to survive so he could be there for Naruto also falls into deaf ears. He claims he’d rather die and give Kushina five minutes with her son later, but I honestly don’t think it’s entirely that, especially since he pulled the “I’m a Konoha shinobi and so is my son”. That line solidified him as a terrible father and husband, but also shows that again, he doesn’t give a shit about Kushina being from Uzushio. Naruto is his, and therefore Konoha’s. He should suffer for Konoha. But also he, as an Uzumaki, should be exploited by Konoha like his mother was. He didn’t even have any last words for him. The worst part is if his dumb fucking ass sealed Kyuubi back into Kushina, she would’ve LIVED. She is a full Uzumaki, and Naruto being half still survived the extraction as soon as Kyuubi was put back into him in the war arc. Hell, she outlived Minato, whose pathetic ass died right away (also he didn’t even have enough chakra to keep fighting Obito, while Kushina was spamming jutsus despite her mortal injuries, but that’s again another can of worms). 

For me their death scene was only a tragedy for Kushina. Exploited since she was eight years old, dies at only twenty-four for a village that hated her and her culture, knowing she’s leaving behind a cultureless, parentless son who will grow up alone and just as exploited. Nothing justifies what Minato did. The fact he never regretted it nor even paused to consider Kushina’s words shows just how little he actually values her input and her opinions. She was never his equal, and that was made clear when he made the decision on her behalf for both of them to die and for Naruto to be a weapon. 

Now yeah, don’t get me wrong, I love toxic ships. I’m a toxic HashiMito truther. But MinaKushi is pushed on us both by the narrative and fandom as the perfect romance and I don’t see it. Minato is self-centered, exploitative, bulldozes over his girlfriend’s DYING wishes, disregards her culture and only brings up her trauma as a genocide survivor to convince her that they should die for the village that abused her till her last breath. Just because he washed the dishes once doesn’t make him a good partner. Kushina was essentially chained to him, and I can hardly see a scenario where her leaving him would be without consequence. That’s just not a healthy relationship. 

Thanks for the ask! This was fun to write, although I fear I might get hated by the entirety of the fandom lmfao. This came out longer than expected (thank god I’m too lazy to add manga panels) because I have so many Kushina feels. She’s my baby

[elguritch-art]

Silfr Life Stages

Wanted to do a bit of a lineup through the prominent points in time that Silfr's gone through, the guy's been through A Lot.

Some more in depth explanations/lore ramblings below:

"Birth"

Silfr was born of a profaned ritual of a heretical branch of the Dragon Cult, from the soul of a stillborn infant "Dragon God", and the body of a discarded Warrior.

Silfr's first memories are the scent of blood, jumbled mixtures of knowing this body was too big, but the soul within too small, the body too weak but the mind too strong, everything, everything, wrong, wrong, wrong.

Scales were barely visible and only a stripe across the eyes, the fingers, and a barely formed tail originally, along with visible scarring and a blind eye!

Pre ER

Healing and growing stronger under the care of the Cult, Silfr, at the time referred to only as the "Dragon God", was put on a pedestal, cared for as more of an object of worship then a person.

Silfr knew very little, for the most part following the Cult's dictations, but still something deep within knew this was not right. Silfr ated the weight of responsibility and worship put into the air Silfr breathed, and began to question if the Dragon God had really been reborn into this inhabited flesh, or if it was something worse.

Scales over the top half of Silfr's face, but not quite onto the ears yet, along with fully covered hands, a slightly longer tail, and scars starting to shrink and fade.

Start of ER

Silfr finally worked up the courage to flee the Dragon Cult after waiting for the flesh to grow strong enough to swing a blade, a gesture both extremely foreign and new, and something deeply buried as a comforting, welcome motion.

The garb of a Confessor was the first and only thing Silfr was able to find to escape the Cult, and very early on picked up the Reduvia as a first weapon after receiving aid from Yura upon being attacked by Nejirus not long after escaping.

Scales cover the top half of Silfr's face, ears, and up to the elbows, tail is almost as long as Silfr's legs, and scars are fully gone. Left eye is still blind. About 5'8" tall.

Mid-Late ER

Growing in confidence as a warrior, Silfr's buried frustrations, mixed with the constant fear and paranoia, and the newly consumed Dragon Hearts culminates in Silfr becoming a creature of wrath and silent anger, taking everything out on almost every living thing crossing Silfr's path.

The Dragon Heart Communion starts awakening and unlocking Silfr's inherent draconic abilities, increasing Silfr's already existing abilities for fire breath, along with allowing magic, scarlet rot, and frost breaths as well, and slight transformations with claws, horns when emotional, and the start of the half-transformation.

Scales more prominent on face, covers up to shoulders, and tail is noticeably larger and harder to hide. Slitted pupils and sharp teeth emerge, and Silfr more commonly has smoke breath when speaking. About 7' tall.

Post SOTE

Now a calmer, serious, more confident warrior, though still has moments of a temper flaring and draconic behaviors. Silfr still fears the Cult and it's attempts to reclaim their Dragon God, but has grown massively in both size and strength, along with finding refuge in the Shadow Keep, finally granting a semblance of peace.

Has also grown into an identity Silfr finally considers a unique identity that Silfr owns, and was not created by someone else. Silfr, the Dragonblooded. Silfr, the Dragon of the Shadow Keep. Silfr, The Impaler's Consort. All titles Silfr forged without the Cult, and identities Silfr holds dear.

Post-Bayle and the consumption of Bayle's heart, Silfr fully entered the form of the Dragon God (or what could be it), for the first time. It was through the efforts of Messmer, enlisting the aid of the Dragon Priestess, that after twenty-four days of agonizing reverting of the transformation, bit by bit, that Silfr returned to a familiar form, though not unscathed.

Scales fully cover top half of face, with permanent two sets of horns, and pointed ears. Small scale spikes on jaw, and small tusks. Scales fully cover shoulders and up to mid thigh, collarbones, and Silfr's entire neck and throat. Tail is quite large and often drags on the floor, and Silfr has a pair of infantile, underdeveloped wings that are kept bound due to chronic pain (With Messmer's help for it.) About 8' tall.

:) The little bracelet is one of Messmer's and was gifted to Silfr upon accepting the offer to become a consort to Messmer's claims of Lordship.

[amateurvoltaire]

Wait a minute, Napoleon praised the Vendée resistance?... Why....?

Hi! Thanks so much for your question!

Yes, Napoleon did show a certain admiration for the Vendée resistance, though this was mostly for practical reasons: he wanted them to like him. Why? Because they were a semi-metaphorical powder keg! Throughout his reign, he approached the Vendée with extreme caution, often using a carrot-and-stick method to keep the region in check. The flattery was part of the "carrot."

Unsurprisingly, this cautionary attitude existed long before he was in power. Napoleon’s initial stance towards the West (1) was one of deliberate neutrality. Essentially, he avoided it like the plague. Since 1795, when he refused his appointment to the Army of the West, he consistently steered clear of the region’s affairs despite repeatedly stating that peace there was essential.

Why so passive? My guess is that he saw it as career suicide. Nothing good ever came to generals who tangled with the West...

By the time Napoleon became First Consul in 1799, the West was still a problem—a hotbed of rebellion, in fact. The Law of Hostages (2), the deportation of refractory priests, and conscription had stirred things up enough that Charles d’Autichamp and others were raising armies. Although this uprising fizzled out by November, it was a reminder that the region was still volatile.

From a strategic viewpoint, the West also represented a vulnerable border for France, especially with the ever-looming threat of English intervention. Controlling it was necessary to prevent foreign interference, whether driven by émigrés or other factions.

Politically, the Vendée was a glaring reminder of the revolutionary regimes’ failures (3) and became an emotional anchor for both royalists and revolutionaries. The French, weary of war, had seen two failed peace efforts in the region. The first attempt, from December 1794 to June 1795, collapsed over fundamental disagreements about religion and loyalty to the Republic. By May 1795, Vendéen leaders, bolstered by the Anglo-émigré alliance and promises from the Count of Artois, reignited conflict. The second peace attempt, led by General Hoche from 1796 to 1799, initially showed promise, but the coup of 18 Fructidor sabotaged his efforts, and by the summer of 1799, things were back to square one.

In short, achieving peace in the Vendée was important but elusive. Successfully doing so would be a huge PR win for the young First Consul. And Napoleon definitely loved his wins.

His immediate dilemma was how to secure lasting peace. Six years of repression had proven useless. As such, he turned to diplomacy, carefully crafted laws, a hefty dose of charm, and a focus on economic recovery.

Napoleon’s previous neutrality paid off by earning him a decent amount of public trust in the region. And, whether he genuinely believed it or not, flattering the Vendéens by praising their military prowess and describing the conflict as "le Combat des Géants” helped. This, along with his correct understanding that religion, not royalism, was the crux of the rebellion, earned him the support of key figures like Abbé Bernier.

Economically, Napoleon took a "throw-money-at-the-problem" approach. He launched an ambitious reconstruction programme, allocating millions of francs to rebuild roads (4) and houses and even create a new city (5). Alongside this, he doled out aid to the needy, offered grants for rebuilding, prioritised education, gave tax exemptions, and moderated military conscription. He was focused on rebuilding the region and erasing as many of the markings of war as he could. His propaganda visit to the area in 1808 basically sought to ingratiate him further with the locals by showing interest in their history and the war.

But despite these gestures, Napoleon remained cautious. His reconciliatory actions were paired with close surveillance of former Vendéen leaders and potential troublemakers. For better control, he also attempted to co-opt the families of former Vendéen commanders into his army, though with mixed results. For example, Louis de La Rochejaquelein (6) dodged service by pleading poor health and a large family. At the same time, his brother Auguste wasn’t so lucky, ending up as a sub-lieutenant under threat of imprisonment. Meanwhile, Charette’s nephew Louis joined Napoleon’s honour guard, only to later be arrested on suspicion of plotting. Talmont’s son was also a sub-lieutenant. Others, like Guillaume Faugaret (7)  and the Viscount of Scépeau (8),  were allowed to retreat into public life, becoming mayors and avoiding overt political involvement.

In short, Napoleon was trying really hard to win these people over—for entirely pragmatic reasons. Despite his flattery and attempts at charm, the region remained difficult to control. Don’t get me wrong, he arguably did better than the regimes before him, but incidents like the Lead Affair, the rise of Le Petit Église, and various plots showed that the West was still a risky and volatile region.

Notes

(1) The conflict went beyond the department of the Vendee and encompassed most of the north-west of France.

(2) The Law of Hostages, passed by the Directory in 1799, allowed for the detention of relatives of émigrés or rebels as "hostages" to ensure their good behaviour. If any anti-revolutionary actions occurred, these hostages could be fined, imprisoned, or even deported, effectively using them as leverage to maintain order.

(3) Fun-fact: since 1793, every year , one government or another would announce the end of the war in the Vendee, only for it to start again…

(4) One of the main reasons why the various insurgencies were so successful were because the whole region was mostly forests/marshes and had very few roads, and those roads were bordered by bushes in which the insurgents would hide and wait for the republican armies.

(5) In 1804, Napoleon decreed the creation of a new city of 12,000 to 15,000 inhabitants at La Roche-sur-Yon, which was named Napoléon. This wasn’t a vanity project but  was part of his strategy to establish regional administrative control⁠.

(6) Louis and Auguste de la Rochejaquelein were the brothers of the late Henri de la Rochejaquelein. Louis was married to Lescure’s widow, of Memoirs fame.

(7) Guillaume Faugaret was one of Charette’s former leuterrants

(8) He was the brother-in-law of Bonchamps

[zvaigzdelasas]

UK government officials attempted to suppress criticism of the United Arab Emirates and its alleged role in supplying arms to a notorious militia waging a campaign of ethnic cleansing in Sudan, sources have told the Guardian.

Claims that Foreign Office officials put pressure on African diplomats to avoid criticising the UAE over its alleged military support for Sudan’s Rapid Support Forces (RSF) will intensify scrutiny of the UK’s relationship with the Gulf state.[...]

The UAE has repeatedly denied involvement in sending military support to any of Sudan’s warring parties.[...]

Last week the Humanitarian Research Lab (HRL) at Yale University revealed images of a cargo plane flying over RSF territory near El Fasher, matching an aircraft type seen at locations in neighbouring Chad where lethal aid has allegedly been transferred to the RSF.[...]

Kholood Khair, Sudanese political analyst, said geopolitical dynamics explained any attempt to protect the UAE. “The UAE has made itself indispensable to the west, in particular the US, as a guarantor of its strategic objectives in the region,” she said.

Khair added: “The UAE has been helping the US stave off Chinese dominance in Africa by outspending Beijing and in return gets US security guarantees.”[...]

In 2013, as prime minister, Lord [David] Cameron set up a secretive Whitehall unit specifically to court the oil-rich sheikhs of the UAE, with the aim of persuading them to invest billions in the UK.

In January the defence secretary, Grant Shapps, said he expected the UK to raise tens of billions of pounds of investment from the UAE.

24 Jun 24

[setmeatopthepyre]

thinking about the capsized cruise ship, a world upside down and uninhabitable, with doomed loved ones trapped within it. how it's cut off from the land of the living by a vast body of water. thinking about the prophetess Cassandra firefighter Hen Wilson, who took matters into her own hands when her warnings of impending disaster went ignored by those in charge

thinking about one ferryman helicopter pilot Tommy Kinard, bending the rules to safely guide mortals LAFD through a storm and across the deep dark depths to cross into the realms of the dead foreign waters so that they may attempt to retrieve their loved ones from the underworld upside-down cruise ship

thinking about Athena goddess of war and wisdom who aided heroes on their journeys and once bested Poseidon Grant shooting an illuminating light from a weapon flare into the sky in a last attempt to guide rescue towards their position and save them all from the ocean's grasp

thinking about Bobby being pulled up from the depths of what could have been his grave by Buck and Eddie. thinking about Bobby and Athena, two lovers just escaped from the underworld cruise ship, reuniting in the light of day in a world turned right-side-up again, back in the land of the living with all those who love them

(thinking of Buck finding himself, later, in a different kind of storm emotional turmoil, only for the clouds to part and reveal our ferryman pilot Tommy ready to help Buck cross into this newer, more complete version of himself)

[yoonia]

the bedroom hymns ● chapter xii

⟶ Chapter summary | The daunting stories of the other kingdoms in the Far Far Away land allure you, helping you forget the formidable circumstances that you must deal with as you adjust living in your new home. 

⟶ Title | The Bedroom Hymns: a Bluebeard’s twist ⟶ Pairings | Min Yoongi x female reader  ⟶ Genre | Fairy Prince!Yoongi, Crown Princess!reader, Fantasy au, Fairy Tale retelling ⟶ Word count | 7,062 words ⟶ Ratings | PG-13, +18 / M for Mature for future chapters; include some form of classism, black magic, deceit ⟶ Story Masterlist: The Bedroom Hymns | ⤎ previous chapter | next chapter ⇢ ⟶ Main Masterlist | Mailbox | Taglist | Feedback | Music Playlist | Ko-fi ⟶ Author’s note | Continuing our adventure with the story, this chapter and the few upcoming ones may show or imply some places and characters mentioned in the other stories included in the Once Upon A Fantasy collab that this story is a part of. Spoilers may be hinted in this story, but there will be no need for you to read the other stories first to enjoy this series.

chapter xii. alias

Warm sunlight piercing through the windows, forming golden curtains as they fall against the grey walls and dark beige floors during late afternoons. 

The air that carries with it the salty scent of sea, which grows stale and humid as you walk down the dark hallways, or when you venture through the quarters located on the lower ground of the main palace. 

Cold breeze brushes against your skin as you pass through the connecting halls between the main palace and your private quarters at the West Tower. A complete contrast to the warmth within your bedchamber which seems endless, welcoming you like a warm hug upon your return from your long day. 

The rhythmical sound of waves crashing against the rocky walls bordering between the palace grounds and the Carmine Sea often accompanies you, whether lulling you towards your peaceful slumber in the night or allowing you a peaceful reprieve during the day.  

The mixed scent of dusts, dried ink, stained papers, and old books permeating through the palace’s library often accompanies you during your tutoring hours. You often allow yourself to be drowned in them as you get lost in the books that you are reading, or while you are deep into the tutoring sessions with Lady Laurel and Lord Gordan during the day. 

There are a list of things that you have begun to associate with your new home. 

Weeks have long passed since you moved into The Stargrave Castle. As you keep busying yourself, your father’s absence no longer feels disconcerting. You no longer feel as if you had been tossed in a foreign land to fend for yourself. And for some reason, even without his presence, you have found a way to get to know more about the King himself, as if his story is written in every single nook and cranny within the home castle. 

Through the set of keys that he had left you with and the enchanted doors you venture into, you have learned so much about his magic, his secret endeavours, the other lives that he has lived in under his other personas, and the way he was seeing the word. Through the lessons that you have been given and the daily conversation that you have had with the King’s loyal aides and disciples, you have been learning more about your father’s work and his way of ruling the kingdom. 

Granted, there are still so many secrets behind his work and his magic, the latter is the one that he seems to hold dear as a lifeline that not even a single one of this closest aides could explain to you when you tried to sneakily question them, yet you have learned just enough to be able to understand about him more. 

Through the places you have found within the castle, from the treasure rooms to the library and his royal study, you are beginning to learn more about the family history—the King’s family history—when the golden plates and the ruby stones could tell you not only how long he had slowly started building his empire, but also how far he had traveled to gain his riches and support to help his people. 

There are still so many things that you wish to learn. Not only about your father, but your entire family, as you had never truly learned about your own roots aside from what has been written in the books for the commoners to learn about the royal family.

But above all, what has made you more curious to learn would be about your mother. Other than her paintings and pictures that you were left with, and the necklace that you have been given to, you realise that you have nothing else left of hers that could tell you more about her.

Who was she, the woman who had stolen the heart of the Wicked King? Where did she come from? Did she ever learn about magic, or the family secret that your father has entrusted upon you the day he departed from the home castle?

And if your mother, the Queen, had once lived in this castle, which part of the castle had her private quarters had been located in? Or had she spent most of her life sharing the same quarters with the King? 

Did you father ever entrusted her with the same set of keys? And if he did, had she ever traveled down these hallways, trying out the secret doors—whether they are the ones with the treasures or the ones that had been enchanted with spells—and learned the same secret that your father had kept just like you have?

Over the years, you have tried to learn more about the Queen from your governess. Yet Nanny Abigail had only ever answered your questions with the most simple words that any child would yearn to hear—

“Her Majesty was the most gracious Queen that the people had once admired and loved.”

“The Queen was the most beautiful woman in the empire, not one had ever hold the candle to her beauty, not until you arrived in this world, Your Highness.” 

“Her Majesty was smart, brilliant, and talented, if it hadn’t been her beauty that had caught the King’s heart, then it would have been her brilliant mind.” 

Despite how good it made you feel to hear nothing more but good things about your mother shared by the person who had claimed to have known her the most, nothing that she had said to you ever answered your true questions. 

And none of the written books and scriptures that you have found in the library has the answers as well, no matter how hard you have looked. 

Regardless, you have learned so much more than you had ever asked for through the books that you have found in the royal library. As they have given you the most insight about life here in this fairy tale land. As of late, whenever you are not deep in the long, lecturing hours, you would find yourself diving deeper and deeper into these books. 

Each written text that you have found there almost have the same effect to you as the doors you often travel into, as they take you into various journeys and exciting adventures without taking you further away from the castle, allowing you to see more about the new world, the new realm that you have been thrust into and have yet to see before. 

With your father’s rule — ‘one magic door per day’ — which he had left you with, you were given the limitation which has hindered you from opening out as many magic doors as you possibly could while he is away. You know that he must have had his own reasons to give you such rule to follow, yet it leaves you wanting more. You want to see more places, more wonders, and more chances to somehow find a way to venture through other places within the fairy tale land instead of having to go back to the human realm to see the same places you had once gone to. 

Deep down, you are quite sure that the magic doors would one day take you to see these amazing, magical places that you have been reading about. Until then, the books have become a different mean of traveling that you can enjoy. 

Just like how you are about to be using one of those books now as a form of escape. 

There is a pep in your footsteps as you are leaving your afternoon lessons, hugging the thick book that you have chosen to bring back from the library to waste the rest of your afternoon. The exhaustion that you have been feeling from your latest exploit through the magic door still follows you around, clinging onto your bones and muscles as you make your way back to your bedchamber. Yet the excitement of reading the stories about the magical lands and kingdoms from your new book manages to help you forget about it for a little while. 

Walking up the hallway leading to your bedchamber, your eyes are caught by the scenery that you are presented with by looking out the main window of the West Tower. From up high, the widespread ocean seems like a massive mirror, reflecting the golden afternoon sunlight and bringing more warmth into the space around you. This marvellous image has often caught your attention, leaving you astonished and in awe at the sight you are seeing. 

And just like always, once you look out into the ocean, your gaze would drift towards the high cliffs attached to the side of the palace walls. Every time this happens, your mind wanders to the mysterious mercenary that you had encountered during your latest feat. The masked man who has been visiting the long nights that you have spent in your bedchamber alone after your past encounter in a foreign town. 

Min Yoongi. 

The mere mention of his name brings back the sparks that you felt the first time you met him. It seems odd to feel a tangible bond with a complete stranger that you have just met. But you know that the feeling is real, and it seems hard for you to deny it when the sparks seem to follow you, always making their presence known whenever the thought of him crosses your mind.

Ever since the day you spent in Narlès with Min Yoongi, you have been experiencing the same dream. The images have been returning to you in broken parts like an echo of his presence. His face would appear between the hazy images of the events that you encounter during the day at Narlès. More often than not, Yoongi’s image would somehow merge together with the mysterious man that you once met in your past dream; the faceless man that came to see you at the top of the cliff above the Carmine Sea. 

Thinking about him makes you long for him. With a sigh, you wonder if you would be able to see him again should you try to venture through one of your father’s magic doors tonight. 

Except that there will be no adventure for you this evening. 

In truth, you haven’t been going through any of the magic doors ever since the last adventure you had.

The trip that you had to the market town of Narlès had taken most of your energy that it required you more than a day of rest to restore your stamina. It shouldn’t have been a surprise to you when it happened, knowing that the previous trips that you had taken through the magic doors had always drained your energy that it would have taken you hours to recover. 

Normally, the only thing you needed to do was have a proper rest at night and a good sleep to replenish your energy and be ready for the next day. And yet, for some reason, days had gone by since the trip to Narlès and you have yet to restore your energy. Exhaustion still follows you, and it didn’t help that you were still feeling tired even after you had woken up from your long sleep. 

This had been one of the reasons why you have been spending more time reading, be it in the library or within the privacy of your bedchamber, searching for an adventure through the stories you read in the books about the magic realm. And it was also the reason why you had simply lost track of time reading at the library today until one of the palace maids came in to check on you out of concern. 

It wasn’t so hard for you to get so captivated with your reading material today, more than ever. 

Today’s lecture had been about the notorious kingdoms and empires within the Land of Far Far Away which you may have to become acquainted with in the future. And what you learned—although still limited in details—had left you feeling astonished that you were eager to learn more. 

You learned about the kingdom that was lead by a king who was half man-half beast, with his followers and people who would turn into their beast counterparts under the full moon. There was also the kingdom filled with mages, ruled by a powerful Mage King who has lived for more than a thousand years and is still thriving to this day.

You read stories about the empires that are being ruled under the power of the moon. One empire is said to be ordained with the blessings of two magical moons, while another is to be said to have acquired magic from the moon that the people of the empire have worshipped as the divine being which had granted them not only magic, but also life and prosperity.   

But the one story that captivated you the most was the empire that was governed by the sun. Ruled by the newly crowned Sun Emperor who was said to have fallen in love with a nameless Princess with magical voice who is notorious in the Far Far Away Land, so much so that people would travel across the continent and the wide ocean just to hear her sing. 

As you sit down in your bedchamber, lounging on the settee by the window overlooking the cliffs and the sparkling ocean, you open the book that you brought back with you which tells the tale about the sun empire, its young Emperor, and his wife, famously known as the Sunray Sparrow. 

Today, in her lecture, Lady Laurel talked a lot about the sun empire, Aetherys, in terms of its success in advanced science and technology. She had at first captivated you with the stories and pictures of the empire’s known inventions; the air ships that seemed like giant bird floating in the sky; modernised trams passing through the cities as means of transportation instead of horses and stage coaches; and buildings that are built high enough to touch the sky with artistic styles that are quite unlike any other places within the continent. 

While the story of an advanced empire had been inspiring for you to listen to, the story about the sun empire which had drawn your attention the most had been its love story. Known to be the tale of the century, it was written alongside of the empire’s centuries-old history and achievements for every other kingdoms and empires to learn about. 

“They spoke about the danger of dark magic,” explained Lady Laurel when you inquired her the reason why this love story was written as such, “As the threats from dark mages and wizards often come with no signs nor warnings. Every good ruler with magic abilities must be prepared for the day such threats may come, and these stories may proved ways in defeating them.”

Just like how the love story captivated you the first time you heard it from Lady Laurel, it makes your chest flutter as you read it all over again. Their journey, past struggles, and their love before they were finally able to rule their empire sounds like a fairy tale that is often read to young children, but the story truly happened, notorious among the people in the Land of Far Far Away which later inspired an author to write it into a book for other generations to learn in the future. 

A sigh comes out of your lips once you are done reading the story once more. 

Such love story truly exists here in the land filled with magic and wonder, all written in the books that regular people in the human realms would read as fairy tales lulling them to sleep. As you close the book and set it aside, the flutter in your chest returns, and your gaze wanders outside the window, just in time to notice how quickly time has passed since you first return to your chamber as the golden sunlight is slowly retreating beyond the horizon. 

But the sunset that would have usually captivated you doesn’t do its magic this evening. You turn away from the sight, gazing up all the way to peak of the cliffs instead. As you wonder about finding love in the fairy tale land, a certain figure appears in your mind. The same figure that you would often see in your dreams at night. 

Except that in place of the hazy image of the man with whom you encountered in your dreams many nights ago, you see the handsome face of another taking his place in your memory. One who owns a pair of cat-like eyes, wears a sly smile that seems unwavering, and speaks with a deep voice as he escorted you through the market town of Narlès during your impromptu date just a few days ago. 

The moment you walk through the door and breathe in the air around you, you can already tell that you have once again arrived somewhere far away from home. 

Fresh air, with more earth and pine scents wafting around you instead of the salty scent of the sea or the damp air bouncing between the cold palace walls. The temperature here reminds you quite a bit of Smotia. It doesn’t make you feel homesick, yet it is still enough to make you feel a sense of longing, and you start reminiscing the things that you would normally find in Smotia to compare them with the things you get to feel in this place.

Oddly, there is also a new sensation that you have yet to feel before. The ripples of magic from the portal still clings to you the same way they always do, but there is something else here that you can feel drifting around you. An invisible force that pricks on your skin, caressing you lightly as it welcomes you in its home. 

What is this sensation? 

You wonder to yourself as you slowly take account of your surroundings. 

Once again, you find yourself emerging into an unfamiliar house. This time, you are standing inside the bedroom that appears to be tight and small, with not a sight of a door separating the room from the other parts of the house that are visible from where you are now standing.

Just like the merchant house you came out of previously at Narlès, the small house is filled with various wooden furniture, set and adorned in the bare minimum. Only enough to show people that someone lives in this house and has been regularly using it. 

A made-up bed that is big enough to fill up the entire bedroom is set in the center. The sheets are neat and clean, as if someone had taken the time to tidy up in the morning. But upon close inspection, it doesn’t seem like anyone has been using it for a while, with the sheets cold and the mattress feels hard under your touch. A knitted blanket hangs on the foot of the bed, helping to create a warm and cozy look in the room. With one touch, you realise that it is nothing more but a mock wool instead of the warm, comforting kind you would use during the winter. 

Quite a front, you wonder, smiling at your father’s meticulous effort to hide the real purpose of this small house from prying eyes.  

As you turn around, you are welcomed by a scene that is has become familiar to your eyes. Taking you back to the day you accidentally emerged into the King’s study room back at the main palace in the heart of Smotia, a full-body mirror stands at the corner of the room. The sight of the dark void that appears there instead of your reflection and the swirling magic dust dancing at its center show you where the portal is present; your point of exit that will bring you back to the home castle once you are done with your excursion.  

Looking at the portal from up close, the sight no longer seems eerie to you like how it used to be when you first began using these portals. If any, seeing them has always left you feeling astonished, always in complete awe at how the portals always appear in different shapes and at the most unexpected places you could find; a door leading to another room, the front door of a building, a closet, a mirror, a pantry filled with daily necessities, and even a wooden cupboard that barely fits your height.  

I don’t think I’ll ever get used to seeing this kind of sight, you wonder to yourself as you refrain from reaching out to touch the dark void and its magic dust, already becoming familiar to what kind of reaction you would feel should you touch the magic.

Curious to learn more about this place, you turn away from the mirror, ignoring the en-suite bathroom and the wooden closet on the other side of the room to make your way outside. Unlike the merchant house you’ve been to, this house appears to be smaller in size. The living room seems almost bare of fancy furnitures and trinkets adorning the quiet space. 

A small kitchen with its private dining room is set up across the house, looking as tidy and clean like the rest of them. You try to picture yourself living here and making use of the rooms, as it seems impossible to imagine seeing your father, the ruler of the empire, sitting in such a small space with his grand presence. 

Thinking about it makes you smile, and it only makes you feel more eager to see what kind of world that you may find right outside of these walls. 

Opening the front door, you almost think that you are walking out of another portal. The house seems to be hidden between giant trees, making it seem as if you are walking out of a tree as you emerge into what appears to be the edge of the forest. 

You don’t sense any time difference between this place and the home castle, yet the darkness that welcomes you as you step out of the house almost plays a trick on you. It leaves you feeling disoriented for a moment, thinking that you have arrived in the evening time. But then you look up, catching the streaks of sunlight penetrating through the thick foliage to know that you still have some daytime left to venture around. 

You tighten your cloak—once again dressed as a common traveller for this trip—and graze over the dagger hanging on your hips for the final reassurance that you need. What lies ahead of you is a mystery to unfold, with possible danger lurking close the same way it did in the previous places you visited, and having your golden dagger with you gives you some sense of security. 

With your resolve, you begin your march into the thick woods ahead of you to find out where you have arrived to.

Traveling through the forest doesn’t take as much of an effort as you had expected it would. From the tree house, you follow along the gravel-covered pathway taking you through the dense woods, taking your time with your journey as you enjoy finding a serene moment by walking between the giant trees. 

Around you, the massive trunks appear like protective walls, with the top of the trees almost reaching all the way up to the sky above. The thick canopy of leaves provide you the perfect shelter, with streaks of sunlight escaping through the gaps to help you find your way.

The sounds of birds chirping and the murmurs of wild animals moving about from the deepest side of the forest become your company against the stillness. It feels peaceful, and you can slowly feel your troubling throughs being silenced by this sense of calmness. 

Not too long, the ground begin going downhill and you can tell that you are coming close to the end of the pathway; the sound of the forest slowly fading, the fresh air slowly shifting with a hint of smell from dirt and firewood, the trees growing sparse and thin the more you walk. 

And then, right before your eyes, the line of trees opens up to what seems to be a main road of a small village—or town. The main road is quite small, and presently empty. Typical to many roads crossing through small towns, there is only dirt covering the road, with traces of carriage wheels, horses trails, and human footprints imprinted along the dirt road.

Looking around, you try to be cautious yet hopeful to find any clue which could show you where to go or find people to talk to. And then you decide to follow the dirt road, not stopping until you reach what seems to be a small village. 

Rows of houses appear before you. The village seems quiet, closed off, some looking unkempt with wild vines growing on the walls and even reaching all the way up to the roof, while others are looking like they are housing more farm animals rather than a family of humans. You can see wooden fences marking their modest property, with piles of hay lined up on some of the open yards and small animals roaming within the barriers.  

Everywhere you look, there is not a sight of familiar-looking insignias or markings that may indicate if this village is a part of the empire’s territory, making you wary about going further to take a closer look at the housings to see if you can find the people residing within them. 

Walking cautiously through the village, you realise that you have yet to see anyone coming out of the houses or the barns. A situation which seems quite peculiar, as the sun is still quite high in the afternoon and the weather is warmer here compared to the estate you had emerged from. 

This is definitely a farmers’ village, but where did everyone go? 

Just as you are beginning to feel lost, you catch a sight a group of men walking towards the village, coming from the opposite side of the road. With cautions and determination to find answers, you walk up to them, meeting them halfway while mustering the courage to greet them. 

Noticing you, the men raise their heads and slow down. All eyes are on you, filled with curiosity and alert to a stranger who is suddenly coming to them. 

Upon closer look, you identify them as local farmers. Each men wearing clothes coated with dirt and soil, and carrying with them various types of farming tools, either in their hands or hoisted on their shoulders. A couple of the men walking at the back appear to be the younger in age, and they are pulling wheelbarrows filled with goods and crops that they must have just gathered from the field. 

“Excuse me, Sir?” you greet them with a polite bow, and the men stop moving completely to regard you. “May I inquire you the name of this place? Where exactly are we?” 

The exhausted farmers look puzzled at your question. They exchange incredulous gazes with each other for a moment, which makes you feel quite uneasy. None of them seem to be irritated with your intrusion, however, much to your relief. 

In fact, they appear mostly to be in—disbelief, upon hearing your question.

“Why—” one of the gruff looking farmers looks around at his workmates one last time before answering you, “we are in Grimm, lass.” Instead of mockery that you had expected to receive from him, there is a subtle pride brimming in his voice, which only becomes more evident when he raises his chin proudly and adds, “The farming district of Grimm.” 

Your eyes grow wide. “Ah, I see,” you politely mutter to him while you work through your memories to recall where exactly you have heard this name before.  

“Yer not from around here, are ye?” Another farmer questions you. The man seems to be the oldest  among his peers. From the look in his eyes, you can see that he is perhaps the most respected one of them all, also shown from the way the younger ones behind him seem to be letting their guard down once he has spoken.

Seeing that he seems to be the leader, you offer him a smile and give him a courteous nod. “No, Sir. I’m just passing through.” 

A different farmer lets out a surprised laugh. “Well, that’ll explain it,” he says with a thick accent that sounds foreign to your ears. In fact, the other ones have that same accent, all heavy and somehow sounding delightful for you to hear as they start murmuring to one another. “Sorry for being wary, lass. We don’t get much of visitors here in Grimm, unless ye have some business with the fellas from the farmsteads.” 

Again, you offer a polite smile as you speak. “No business here, I’m afraid. I’m just traveling through. Figured might as well see around the area—as long as I’m not intruding anyone, that is,” you explain calmly, using the same excuse that you have been using as of late each time you are met with strangers during your excursions. 

“Good luck with that then, lass. Nothing to see here but the boring farm, some dirty barns, and old farmers like us,” the same farmer says, “Unless ye want to travel downtown or the main towns. Lots of interesting stuff to see there.” 

You store these information for later, to use when you eventually need to decide whether you want to venture further away from the portal. “Are you heading back from the farm grounds, Sir?” you try to question them as you point out at their tools. 

The older farmer looks over at his fellas. “That there is true. ’Tis the crop season, so every farmer in the village are working hard to secure the crops and tend the meadows. Us folks are just coming back for a break while secure these crops here to bring home to our family”—he says as he points out at the wheelbarrows they are pulling with them, all filled to the brim—”but we’re not done just yet for the day. We still have some work to do. Even the wives and children are out there in the farm, handling crops and stocks before nightfall comes.” 

That explains why the village is so quiet. Everyone is out there, working together to harvest their goods. 

Just as the older farmer finishes speaking, the younger one from the back of the line shouts his question to you, “Did ye come down from up the hills there, lass?” 

Looking over to him, you follow his gaze and glance over your shoulder, noticing from the distance the pathway piercing through the forest from which you came from. “Yes, Sir. I did.” 

“That seems to be Lord Ahn’s private property. Ye know the fella?” a curious one from the group asks you while his eyes remain looking up the ascending foothill, as if he can still see you walking down the path to come across the village. 

Ahn. Is that another one of Father’s false identity? You wonder to yourself just as your memory takes you back to the paperwork you found back in Narlès. What was the name written in those letters again? 

You try to remember, just as Sir Elias’ deep voice rings through your head—

“Anee?” 

That’s right. Baron Aran of South Narlès. So this must be Father’s other name that he uses here.

“I am…a distant relative of the Lord, kind Sir,” you cautiously say to them while hoping that none of them had actually shared personal stories with ‘Lord Ahn’. 

Father should’ve left me with his paperwork and the list of his disguises along with his keys when he left.  

Thankfully, it seems that they believe your lies. Because the men only nod their heads with admiration before the first farmer who spoke to you muses, “What a fine man Lord Ahn is, so I surmise you are just as nobble as the man. Are ye sightseeing around the Lord’s estate?” 

You laugh nervously, stifling your relief to answer, “I just want to look around out of curiosity. I am learning how to do business myself, so I thought to have a quick look of my great uncle’s estate while I was in the middle of travelling before officially learning more.” 

This sparks yet another look of approval from the men. “A lass learning a man’s business. What fine bloodline the Lord has come from,”the old farmer says to you. “Just follow this road ahead and ye shall find the open land belonging to the Lord. You’ll see the village’s men working on the field as we speak.” 

“So it would be right to assume that there’s where you’ve been working then, my kind Sirs?” 

Another farmer answers, “Aye. We always work with the Lord’s workmen during harvesting season like this one and right before winter comes. Lord Ahn has the biggest estate to care for and there are many able men here in this village to do all the work.” 

You bow at them to show your gratitude. “Thank you kindly for the help, Sir. I shall continue my journey before the day grows dark, then. I pray that you’ll have a good day.” 

The farmers begin to make their leave, continuing their journey home while dragging their tired feet and heavy tools with them. But not before leaving you with a warning, “Beware of any suspicious men, lass. Be sure to return before nightfall.” 

“Right, as he says. This land here isn’t safe for a young lass once evening comes,” another adds. 

“Stay away from the forest ‘is well. ’Tis dangerous for a young lass to be too deep between those trees,” says the oldest farmer, causing you to smile at the kind warning that he gives out of concern, until he suddenly adds just as he leaves, “much less for a lass with unrefined magic like yourself.” 

With those words, your breath is suddenly caught in your throat. 

Your heartbeat picks up when realisation dawns on you. 

That this is no longer the human realm. You have finally arrived at a different place within the Land of Far Far Away. 

“And if ye ever get lost or gone too deep into that forest, remember to stay away from any old castle if ye see ‘em. Stay under the sun and stay close to the people’s side of the village, is all I say,” says the last farmer of the group as they walk away, while you let his words slowly sink in.  

A castle hidden inside the forest. Forbidden for you to come close or to enter. 

“Well, that sounds…familiar,” you muse under your breath, suddenly recalling the rumours spreading in Smotia that has been plaguing almost your entire life. 

“Take care there, lass. Enjoy yer stay here,” the oldest farmer says for the last time with his gentle voice before he joins the others. “If ye ever need any help, that there’s a tavern for travellers at the village borders called Y’Old Whispers. O’Moran’s the owner. Just say yer new ‘round here and he’ll have ye the fine brew of his that’s said to be good for young elves.” 

You have no words to say as you watch the farmers walk away. Each one nodding their goodbyes to you awkwardly yet so pleasantly that you almost feel guilty for not being able to say a thing in return. 

But your words simply fail you. Your mind is too busy taking all of these new information in. 

Finding out that you are in a magic town no longer seems relevant after all the things that you just heard from the old farmer. As he walks further away, you can still hear the murmurs of him conversing with one of his workmates who keeps asking him questions. 

Each word coming out of him are all about you. 

“…I can sense it. There’s no mistaking this gaffer…” 

Even without listening to him directly, you know exactly what he means with his words. What the old farmer sensed was you. And you clearly heard him say that you have unrefined magic within you, right before he mentioned ‘young elves’. 

Had he really been referring to you when he spoke of such a thing?  

Just who…who in the gods name am I, really? You ask yourself as you look down at your own hands, as if you can find the answers there. Except that there is nothing written there. Nothing that you can feel within your grasp except for the shadow of the sparkling magic that seems to follow you ever since you stepped out of your father’s magic portal. 

What other secrets are there that your father is keeping from you? What is it about you that your father is still hiding? 

You were almost right about this place being similar to Smotia. 

At first glance, everything seems quite similar, but the more you get to look around you, you soon find out that things are not quite the same. Barring the villagers dwellings that you saw earlier, what you find as you continue your journey down the road reminds you of a smaller version of the Land of Smotia. And yet, for some reason, you can feel that there is something lingering in the air that feels darker, more sinister, something that not even the bright sunlight above you is capable of hiding. 

Once the main road ends, the land opens up to a vast pastureland which puts you in awe. 

As far as the eye can see, lush green fields undulate gently under the warm embrace of the sun, their golden crops swaying in rhythmic unison under the flowing breeze. Rows of meticulously tended crops, from amber waves of wheat to vibrant expanses of emerald cornfields, flourishing before your eyes like a patchwork quilt laid out across the hills and valleys that seem endless. The air is redolent with the earthy perfume of fertile soil and fresh crops, and there is a hint of dew drifting in the air despite the warm sun. 

Under the open sky, the melodious chirping of wild birds, the rustling leaves of the towering trees bordering the estate, and the trickling sound of the sparkling river appearing not too far in the distance become music to your ears. 

If the sounds of the forest calmed you, the sounds that you hear breezing through the air feel invigorating, drawing you further towards its center, where farmers are seen working and tending to the crops and the fertile land. 

This is where those men had come from, you muse as you watch the hard working men, young and old, who are working across the meadows. The conversation you shared earlier plays out in your mind as you marvel at the sights you see around you, making you wonder to yourself, 

Is this the estate that they referred to earlier? 

Is this where Father gains his valuable crops, those that wouldn’t be able to grow in the Land of Smotia?  

As you wonder about your father’s—and, inadvertently, the empire’s—connection to this place, you start to get lost in your marvelling, still too astounded at the wondrous sight of the prosper land. Until something peculiar happening at the center of the field catches your attention. 

A movement. Deviating from the unformed motions of the farmers weaving through the rows of crops. 

A figure that looks completely unlike the farmers nor the locals who are seen engaging themselves with their work on the field, that his entire presence easily stands out among others. 

You find it hard to look away as he begins making his way towards you, while you come to a halt right in the middle of the field. It feels as if you are stuck in a dream state, as you watch him coming closer to you. Wearing bright coloured clothing that appears to be a common villager’s attire instead of the dark cloak and black attire he was wearing the last time you met him, and a bamboo hat covering his hair and face, he seems like a mirage that is slowly entering your dream while you are wide awake. 

Everything around you seems to be moving in slow motion; the passing wind that is blowing your hair, the hem of your cloak that is floating around your ankles, even the sway of the high grass around you.

As he slowly eliminates the distance between the two of you, he raises his head, and his face comes to sight. Under his gaze, your heart dips. Your skin grows warm, and you suddenly feel weak on the knees that you don’t dare making any effort to move, even if your heart yearns to be closer to him. 

He continues to walk closer, still with his eyes locked on you. Unlike you, who is watching him with wide, astonished eyes, he looks calm, knowing, as if he has already expected to see you today before you even knew that you would end up in this place. 

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, he is standing right before you. Wearing a warm smile on his face, he instantly takes your breath away. While the deep gaze that he gives you draws delicate flutters inside your chest. 

“Min Yoongi.” 

A gasp follows as his name slips out of your lips. Hearing you calling his name, his smile widens, and it snaps you out of your stupor, helping you realise that this is real. That this is not another dream that haunts you in the nightfall. He isn’t just a mirage, welcoming you in a foreign land while you are in dire need of having a companion to make you feel less lonely. 

“I told you that we’ll be seeing each other again,” Yoongi says with the same deep voice that whispers to you at night in your slumber. The same deep voice that he gave you that night when you parted ways back at Narlès. 

“Welcome to Grimm, little dove. I’ve been waiting for you.” 

— © 2024 Yoonia, all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any kind is not allowed. unsolicited translations are not allowed.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Noah Hurowitz at The Intercept:

Donald Trump has made no secret of his desire for revenge.

On the campaign trail, he joked about being a dictator on “day one” in office, pledged to jail journalists, and threatened to retaliate against political foes who he felt had wronged him. Now, just days after he secured a second term in the White House, Congress is already moving to hand a resurgent Trump administration a powerful cudgel that it could wield against ideological opponents in civil society. Up for a potential fast-track vote next week in the House of Representatives, the Stop Terror-Financing and Tax Penalties on American Hostages Act, also known as H.R. 9495, would grant the secretary of the Treasury Department unilateral authority to revoke the tax-exempt status of any nonprofit deemed to be a “terrorist supporting organization.” The resolution has already prompted strong opposition from a wide range of civil society groups, with more than 100 organizations signing an open letter issued by the American Civil Liberties Union in September.

[...]

No Evidence Needed

Under the bill, the Treasury secretary would issue notice to a group of intent to designate it as a “terrorist supporting organization.” Once notified, an organization would have the right to appeal within 90 days, after which it would be stripped of its 501(c)(3) status, named for the statute that confers tax exemptions on recognized nonprofit groups. The law would not require officials to explain the reason for designating a group, nor does it require the Treasury Department to provide evidence. “It basically empowers the Treasury secretary to target any group it wants to call them a terror supporter and block their ability to be a nonprofit,” said Ryan Costello, policy director at the National Iranian American Council Action, which opposes the law. “So that would essentially kill any nonprofit’s ability to function. They couldn’t get banks to service them, they won’t be able to get donations, and there’d be a black mark on the organization, even if it cleared its name.”

The bill could also imperil the lifesaving work of nongovernmental organizations operating in war zones and other hostile areas where providing aid requires coordination with groups designated as terrorists by the U.S., according to a statement issued last year by the Charity & Security Network. “Charitable organizations, especially those who work in settings where designated terrorist groups operate, already undergo strict internal due diligence and risk mitigation measures,” the group wrote. “As the prohibition on material support to foreign terrorist organizations (FTOs) already exists, and is applicable to U.S. nonprofits, this proposed legislation is redundant and unnecessary.” If it proceeds, the bill will go to the House floor in a “suspension vote,” a fast-track procedure that limits debate and allows a bill to bypass committees and move on to the Senate as long as it receives a two-thirds supermajority in favor. [...]

Pro-Palestine Groups at Risk

In the past year, accusations of support for terrorism have been freely lobbed at student protesters, aid workers in Gaza, and even mainstream publications like the New York Times. In unscrupulous hands, the powers of the proposed law could essentially turn the Treasury Department into an enforcement arm of Canary Mission and other hard-line groups dedicated to doxxing and smearing their opponents as terrorists. With very few guardrails in place, the new bill would give broad new powers to the federal government to act on such accusations — and not just against pro-Palestine groups, according to Costello. “The danger is much broader than just groups that work on foreign policy,” said Costello. “It could target major liberal funders who support Palestinian solidarity and peace groups who engage in protest. But it could also theoretically be used to target pro-choice groups, and I could see it being used against environmental groups.

HR9495 needs to be opposed, as this civil liberties-violating bill could broadly define any organization a “terrorist supporting organization”, such as pro-reproductive rights/abortion access, pro-LGBTQ+, pro-Palestine, and progressive groups such as Indivisible.