#that war criminal will rot in hell

[kuronekonerochan]

Nothing motivates the french like representations of their leaders that they can personally maim and destroy. That teacher was a genius and she knew exactly how to reach the heart of every french person. It's a pity because I would have been the target school age for this if they ever made a charity and motivated me with little figures of Durão Barroso for me to maim and destroy.

Exactly 20 years ago (give or take a few days) like most French schoolchildren I was given a piggy bank to collect yellow coins (small change). It was a charity campaign called Opération Pièces Jaunes, to help hospitalised children, but my classmates & I were quite indifferent to the charity aspect because all we cared about was the fact that our teacher started giving us a candle in the shape of President Jacques Chirac every time we returned our little box filled with coins. 

We were completely enraptured by those candles and the way the president’s face would start melting hideously if we let them burn long enough. Without any kind of deliberation among ourselves we turned it into a class-wide contest—it was obvious to everyone that the point of the Yellow Coins charity campaign was to win many little Chiracs and melt them to make the face of our president as freakishly deformed as possible. We exchanged them for pogs and marbles. We had recently learnt about the Plague in history class, with great relish, hence one lucky girl who managed to obtain a particularly monstrous half-melted face with a big wax bubble reminiscent of a bubo sold it way above the going rate, for 12 galaxy marbles—a fortune. (I was among the losers of this auction, and commented in my diary, with deep regret, “It’s just what it would look like if the President had the bubonic plague!”) Every day after school we went round town begging passersby for coins with something akin to mania in order to get more Chiracs to burn into ever ghastlier shapes. An old lady we ambushed in front of the church praised us warmly for our charitable spirit.

Eventually our teacher ran out of candles and this odd chapter of my childhood ended as abruptly as it had started. Our class was congratulated in front of the whole school for being by far the most ardently devoted to the cause (we got ~15kg of coins.) I wonder if the principal asked our teacher what her secret was to make us collect a truly astonishing amount of coins compared to the other classes, and how he reacted when she replied that she motivated us with busts of the President. One teacher gave a Carambar for a full box of coins, another believed that helping sick children should be incentive enough, but our teacher, an expert in child psychology, was alone in her conviction that the best way to go about this was to hand out human wax effigies for her students to burn.

[nando161mando]

Israeli media report that the soldier Eliran Mizrahi killed himself due to severe depression following his return from battles in the Gaza Strip.

The soldier used to share videos and pictures of himself taking part in war crimes in Gaza.

[writermask-0807]

b-BuT HaMaS!!

but nothing. find a better excuse to kill babies.

[plant-ago]

HENRY KISSINGER IS DEAD

[proosh]

man I might reread the fritz bio after i finish this book tbh. i want to go back over things to refresh my memory

[marlowinc]

55 fuckin' years too late.

Good riddance to bad rubbish!

[russetfoxfur]

zedaph killed henry kissinger

AND GOOD FOR HIM. FUCK HENRY KISSINGER FOR REAL

[mimic-octopus]

Minors encompasses a lot of ages. Israel murdered preteens, children, infants, newborns, and premature babies.

Their murder being a consequence of Hamas’s actions doesn’t make sense.

Their murder being the consequence of Israel and Benjamun Netanyahu’s systemic dehumanizing propaganda against Palestinians does make sense. The western nations that have been providing aid are complicit. The members of those governments that support aid although the people they represent don’t support aid are complicit. Please contact your government officials and let your disapproval be known.

The intentionally callous nature of the language used here is incredibly disturbing.

These were all people with families who loved them. They all had hopes and dreams or would have had hopes and dreams.

Is it “minors,” AP? Not children? Not 7 year old Hind begging the operator on the phone to take her away from the corpses of her siblings, shot to bloody pieces in front of her? Not the little boy caught on camera saying he’s at least grateful he didn’t get martyred while bleeding from a severe leg injury? Not the two little girls dead because shrapnel fell on the encampments in Rafah from Israeli bombings and fucking killed them in front of their parents? We’re calling the little kids Israel forces murdered in cold blood minors now?

[immortalmuses]

Ding Dong the Motherfucker's Dead.

[scotty-wolf-lover1968]

HENRY KISSINGER IS FINALLY FUCKING DEAD!!

YEEEEEEE HAAAWWWW!!! ROT IN HELL YOU BLOODY HANDED BASTARD!

[thegreenpea]

I would like to think that the SS war criminals are going to cry at the thought of being compared to who they oppressed just as the IDF war criminals are going to cry that they are going to be seen as inferior in the eyes of their heroes

[contentloadingandstuff]

Mondstadt Girls and an Inazuman Deserter!Reader - Amber, Rosaria & Eula x Male!Reader

A/N: A bit specific to be sure, but I hope it's still entertaining! C/W: Some mentions of frontline hardships and horrors.

There weren't any early warning signs to what was about to befall Inazuma. 

It was as if the Almighty Shogun, so beloved by her people, one day decided to pay her subjects back by trampling on their ambitions. And so Inazumans were forced to, willingly or less so, give up their Visions. Not all went smoothly, however. An obvious backlash was what Narukami’s outrageous demand to hand over Watatsumi’s Visions had been met with, escalating into an invasion in a matter of days. 

At first, the small but professional army of your homeland managed to strike at Watatsumi's unprepared shores, but excited news reports of rapid progress soon died down. Watatsumi's resistance was ferocious, which in tandem with the enlistment of every Vision Bearer in the small state forced the shogunate’s troops back. Not only did they defend their home island, but also succeeded in taking the fight to the bordering Yashiori Island. Unofficial channels reported mounting losses, and with mounting losses came the dreaded mobilization. 

The recruiters and state officials chanted the word “defend!” at anyone who would listen. But what ethical merit had it when you were the aggressors? 

As a male in his prime years, you were one of the first to get drafted when things got rough for the Shogunate. The punishment for evading this duty was harsh - multiple years of prison and unavoidable social ostracism was what awaited you if you were to refuse the God of Thunder's call. With only 24 hours to pack, you took only the necessary items and said your goodbyes for what could very well be your final time. You were off to the frontlines, fighting a war you never asked for and had no business supporting. 

What awaited you was hell. 

With the competent commanders either dead, wounded or having deserted altogether, the military was condemned to fight under inexperienced and cowardly commanders. Soon the “meat assaults”, as your comrades called them, would become the staple of military tactics. There was scarce food, scarce medical assistance, intelligence, scouting, ammunition and everything necessary to fight, and your comrades were melting before your eyes. No friendship lasted - sooner or later a “category second load” was all that you were left with. Bodies were everywhere, rotting under artillery fire in the trenches, on the fields, beaches and forests with nobody to collect them, let alone give them a burial. You lived among them, getting weaker and sicker with each day. The stench was overpowering, barring you from keeping anything in your stomach - not that you had anything to eat but dry crackers and cat soup anyway. The wounded lay scattered among your unit, slowly bleeding out and succumbing to their injuries with few chances of being rescued and tended to. With the losses mounting, you soon came to regret your skill at avoiding suicidal assaults. You were surrounded with homeless and criminals forced into uniform. With the latter came prison discipline as rank integrity and morale decayed. You found your “comrades” to change from fellow citizens to murderers, rapists, robbers, smugglers, bandits - criminals both petty and serious. Humiliations, beatings, lynchings and animalisation became an integral part of your daily life as you found yourself amongst them. Until you couldn't take it anymore. 

You fled. You deserted your post, cast your weapon into the sea, burned your uniform and spent all your savings on bribing locals to smuggle you back to Ritou where you took off with the Krux towards the mainland. 

Whatever you faced there would be a far better life than one of chaos and decay on the frontlines. 

You survived, yes. You made it through hell with your life, but it didn't mean you were proud of it. In the eyes of your people, you have become a coward, a traitor and an unworthy man. Would others share their outlook?

Your first encounter with a certain Outrider wasn't long after you've got yourself a job. As an equipment technician for the Knights of Favonius, you were charged with keeping her and the others’ weapons and armor in top condition. 

Amber made quite the impression on you when she came crashing through the balcony and into the workshop, scattering tools, weapons and outfits across the entire room. She knocked over a candle while bashfully apologizing, setting some fabric on fire. Despite the rough landing, the mess and the arson, her genuine smile and bright disposition sparked a true wildfire in your heart, one she - as you would come to know - shared. 

All was well for a few months. Amber didn't take interest in politics, placing the war outside of her attention. She did once mention it, but stopped at simply wishing your family safety. She didn't pay much attention to your scars - she had many of her own from the various accidents she had and adventures she regularly embarked on. You having some too didn't really strike her as unusual. 

What Amber did notice was your attitude towards certain topics. Wherever her service in the Knights or war in general came up, you turned rather pessimistic and dismissive. Phrases akin to “we’ll die anyway” or “we are replaceable” would frequently reach her ears. This, combined with your general dislike towards war-related topics and scarce - if any - sharing of your past in Inazuma gave her more than enough clues. She quickly put two and two together and, preferring to stay genuine, asked you outright. 

After hearing about what got you in Mondstadt, she didn't know what to say. She just sat there, blinking, her mouth slightly agape. In her defense, nothing could have prepared Amber for a story about sleeping amongst rotting corpses or hearing another soldier cry for help for hours until he finally bled out. 

It's no wonder you wanted out. Nobody deserves this treatment for risking their lives for their god. What kind of god Raiden Shogun even is? One who strips her followers of their Visions and sends her soldiers to fight in these conditions, without even bothering to show up and support them? Your desertion, no, your escape is fully justified. If anything you should be proud to have made such a bold decision, risking execution if your despicable superiors were to find out. 

For Amber, hearing you doubt yourself as man was an honest surprise. In a situation as inhuman as that, how could you even consider societal expectations? Only people truly separated from reality would call you a wimp. These people are likely women or those fortunate enough to never experience actual war first hand, so you shouldn't bother about their opinions.

As for herself, well… Amber knows that, as an Outrider, she will be sent to the frontlines should the need arise. But she rests easy, knowing that offensive warfare isn't something very likely to be in Mondstadt’s future. Even if there will be, Amber is sure that it will happen only if absolutely necessary and in good cause. 

Amber: You've been through things that no man should ever experience. You are very brave to have said ‘enough’ and left that hell behind, no matter the risk. Now, my brave warrior, you deserve to rest - I swore to defend every citizen of Mondstadt, including you. If you could, leave the defending to me! I’ll make sure that you won't ever have to fight again! Outrider's promise!

When you arrived in Mondstadt, you were obviously placed in Rosaria’s sights. Every outlander that takes residence in the city must be investigated, as per her orders. There wasn’t a lot to go off, as she found. You didn’t speak Mondstadtian, only the universal language of Teyvat. Your face was slightly different from the locals, hinting at a South-Eastern origin. You were of a rather sturdier stature, suggesting your previous occupation involved physical tasks. After a few weeks of witnessing absolutely ordinary behavior from you, she just tagged you as a blue collar immigrant and called it a day. 

The war left you hurt, but it did leave you with some skills too. You were in generally fit physical form - after eating up, that is - and more than remembered the training you received back in Inazuma. Being practical, you decided to start with a simple guard job. As it happened, the leader of the nation left his city to embark on a crusade of sorts, leaving the local force - The Knights of Favonius as you came to know them - very short handed. This meant that you were quickly accepted first as a squire and then promoted to a regular knight after a few months of work and some exams. 

Nobody wanted to be on guard duty. Except for you, that is. You were tired of killing, tired of constantly being on alert and risking your neck every second. You were thankful for the opportunity to lean back and pretend to work while still getting the money and the credit for standing in for someone else. And that’s how your life flowed for the most part. 

The first time Rosaria actually spoke to you in person came when she was outside the cathedral for her usual smoke break. Normally she would smoke inside the church, but that day she wasn’t in the mood to put up with the whining of that one young nun who would always make it out as if it was a big issue. When she reached into her pockets, as luck would have it, she couldn’t locate her cigarette pouch. When she started heading home, annoyed, she stumbled upon you, casually smoking in a secluded spot. It was a habit you caught from your comrades - the stress had to be resolved in some way, after all. When Rosaria came up to you and asked for one of your cigarettes, you gladly shared - and that’s how the relationship started. 

The closer you got to each other, the more interested Rosaria became in your past. You never spoke of it, and she could tell it was not the most pleasant of topics for you. She understood that - Rosaria herself disliked talking about her “was”, after all. But she couldn’t stop her curiosity from asking the questions - where did you get all these scars? From monsters? As if a guy like you would succumb to some Hilichurls. 

She would come to learn the truth one Friday night. Both of you had just a little too much to drink, resulting in the alcohol loosening your tongue. You went on and on about what happened to you in Inazuma, and Rosaria managed to remember enough of it to piece together a coherent backstory in the morning.

It was a story like many others she heard throughout her life. A mistreated soldier, fighting for a cause he didn’t support, escaping back to freedom. The recurrence of stories like yours didn’t make it any less tragic, of course. But that’s just it, no? It happened, and there was nothing you could do about it anymore. It was fate’s dark design, and no matter how much you would try, you couldn’t change it. The right course of action was to make peace with the past and move on. 

Much to her surprise, however, you didn’t seem to take the reasonable route this time. Your choice of desertion seemed to weigh you down. You were frequently referring to yourself as a traitor and a coward, both of which Rosaria would find amusing. Because you were neither. 

Rosaria: “Ah, really now? This “coward” you speak of somehow had the courage to go against the will of his god, just as this “traitor” saw the so-called conquest for what it was - a civil war. You refused to accept tyranny, you refused being treated by your god as some nameless cannon fodder. More - not only did you resist and escape with your life, but you also recovered. You rolled your sleeves up and returned to civilian life, determined to regain what was taken away from you. This is a feat no ordinary man is capable of, Y/N.”

After an entire year in hell, there was no chance you would be willing to ever find yourself near a weapon anymore. Not professionally at least. You needed a job to keep yourself afloat, and you decided that the simpler, the better. You decided to do as many have - you took a loan and started your bakery. 

It was a difficult task at first, but you managed to get a foothold, and it was fairly simple from then on. Was it monotonous? Sure, but that’s what you signed up for. You decided that routine would do you good. 

During your uneventful but still busy days, you would turn your attention towards the streets and the people that walked them. One particular, blue haired woman caught your attention. She was clearly a member of the Knights, but unlike the others she wasn’t very popular among the people of Mondstadt, so much so that other shopkeepers oftentimes refused to sell her any of their wares. Was she a criminal of some sort? An outcast? You asked your fellow store owner for a reason, and it absolutely baffled you. 

It turned out she was Eula Lawrence, a woman from a tyrannical clan that once ruled the city. When you asked a few knights that did their shopping at your store about what kind of a person she was, your suspicions turned out to be true. She has been hurt by her family name and her somewhat distant attitude, on top of her way of speaking of course. 

When she came to you the first time, she asked if you also didn’t want her to visit your shop. Her face betrayed genuine surprise as you handed her a loaf of fresh bread, but she was even more suspicious when you refused to take her money. There was something very unusual about your attitude, so starkly different from how others treated her. 

Nonetheless, she accepted the gift. She accepted it the second time. And the third. And the fourth, and the fifth and over and over and over again. The profit decrease of a few loaves of bread was negligible, but Eula still insisted on paying for her food after being given so much. You still gave her a discount, though. 

Over time you started getting along better and better. You started looking out for her in more ways as well, getting her medication when she was sick or getting her back to the Knights of Favonious barracks when she went overboard with alcohol. It was a bad habit, and you tried distracting her from her worries with offers to go out, even if she wanted to drink - at least she wouldn’t drink alone. 

This quality time brought you closer, progressing up to the point of you inviting her to live in the same home. Eula obviously welcomed the chance to take her living conditions up a notch, as the barracks weren’t really a nice place to live in. You were overjoyed at her accepting the proposal, but anxiety lingered in your mind - how long would it be before she found out? And what would happen when she did? Eula was a woman of honor, a proud soldier with a well developed moral code and the determination to stick to it. How would she look at you when she found out you were nothing but a pathetic deserter? 

Unbeknownst to you, the Spindrift Knight has long since figured that something is up with you. No ordinary baker would have a body so rugged as yours, and you seemed aware of the fact - whenever she invited you for her ice baths, you would politely decline. On hot days you still wore a more revealing shirt, letting her see and examine your scars discreetly. She had seen many of such marks before, she herself had many, and it was easy to guess that they were man made. Your habits also supported her suspicions - she found a dagger under your pillow and a dusty spear in your closet, though she never saw you use either. 

One day, Eula decided enough was enough - if she were to love you with all the honesty of her heart, you would have to be genuine as well. She approached you with a stern expression and a single demand - “spar with me”. You accepted, being uncertain at first but later relaxing and giving it your all. You thought that a woman such as her wouldn’t be impressed with weakness, and so you called on all your experience and knowledge. What you didn’t realize was that Eula kept a close eye on you and concluded that you had to have any sort of military training to fight like you do. You still lost the fight though. The captain called you out and, not wanting to keep pretending anymore, you told her everything. 

Eula was, above all, pleased that you were able to be honest with her (and that she figured everything out correctly, of course). Admitting to such a decision required bravery, just as escaping the horrid conditions you were fighting in. Facing the risks involved with avoiding detection and sailing to a whole new nation, filled with foreign designs and speaking in a foreign language was a true testament to your courage. 

Second, far stronger, came the disgust. How could any soldier be treated as deplorably as the men of Inazuma were? No food, no water, no supplies and no help are the rewards for putting your lives on the line and taking the lives of others? Just the thought makes Eula’s teeth grit to this very day. To think that all these neglected aspects of planning might as well have killed you…

She didn’t need time to consider if she loved you now that she knew of your past. You were still the man that gave her bread that one day, still the man that faced monsters with her, side by side, still the patient and caring man that touched her heart. If anything, knowing of the extent of your bravery and determination only made her admire you more.

Eula: “The right to live isn’t something exclusive to women, children and the elderly, you know. Every man has the same right to not die in a war as a woman. Not only those that volunteered deserve respect - any soul that carried the burden of war deserves acknowledgment for their bravery. What you had been forced into was not war - it was a crime. And for that I will have vengeance on that god of yours, I swear it.

Thanks for reading!

[leiascully]

X-Files OctoberFicFest Day 7: Wetwired

Scully drawing on him, her blue eyes wild. Scully with her gun leveled at him. Scully in the shadows of her mother’s house like some creature in its den.

He had felt her slipping away. He hadn’t understood it. She had flicked her eyes sideways at him in the car like she was assessing her chances of pitching herself out the door. It had stung like a paper cut, a swift slice that throbbed for hours.

Scully didn’t trust him. Some outside force had slipped a wedge between them. He hadn’t thought it was possible anymore: their bond exceeded anything he’d known. Scully was incorruptible. Maybe there had been some rot at the heart of them that he hadn’t understood. Something had festered, maybe since the beginning. Maybe it was the loss of her sister that had tipped her over the edge, or hell, her dog.

She had fired at him. Worse, she had fired at a civilian. What were a few bullets between partners? But to fire on a civilian was out of character, out of line. It wasn’t Scully.

The sinister signal had slipped into her mind and warped something in it. What did she see when she looked at him? Did he stink of cigarettes, in her imagination? Was he a war criminal or a wicked scientist? Was he Pfaster or Boggs or Tooms? Or worst of all, was he himself? Maybe she’d always been waiting for his betrayal.

His heart had stopped when the police had called. There was no bracing himself against the possibility of seeing her lovely face turned waxen, a death mask. He’d whispered a silent apology to the corpse for the relief he’d felt. Surely Jane Doe hadn’t deserved to die. Whoever she was, she deserved justice. He wasn’t going to give it to her, but it ached all the same, under the dizzy rush of euphoria that she wasn’t Scully.

He’d found Scully hiding with her mother, alive but not herself. Unwell. Feral and fierce, a Jersey Devil trapped in a suburban Maryland home. He couldn’t get through to her. When he reached for her, she snarled, caged in her own mind. She had shot him before to save him. That wouldn’t be her aim this time. He remembered their conversation on the rock. In her mind, he could play the part of the fanatic pushed beyond all reason. What was there to do with a mad dog but put it down?

Maggie had a softer touch. She held out her hand and Scully surrendered, saved by motherlove. It was astonishing to watch. He had forgotten that kind of maternal tenderness. He’d only experienced it in a dilute version, standing in for Scully when she’d been abducted. It warmed his heart and broke it all at once. But she was safe. That was what mattered. That was the only thing that mattered.

The cleanup of the evidence had been completed in his absence, as Mr. X had assured him it would, but Scully would be all right. He would make that choice every time.

Maybe one day she’d believe it.

[yandere-toons]

Yandere Anakin Skywalker (Platonic & Romantic Headcanons)

Warnings: Abuse of Power, Violence, Death, Mentions of Choking/Strangulation, Implied Stalking, Psychological Manipulation, Toxic Mindsets.

Based on Clone Wars Anakin.

Platonic:

Anakin has tasted loss one time too many to treat this bond as anything other than a closely guarded treasure, one that he will break a great many rules to prolong. But the restrictive Jedi Order takes every opportunity to remind him: "The Jedi Code comes before friendship." Be that as it may, Anakin considers them family and will now guard them with his life.

If his friend claims someone is harassing them or Anakin witnesses what he considers blatant disrespect, he offers to straighten out the problem in a way that seems like a joke but is deathly sincere. Once the offender suffers a mysterious injury or sudden change of heart, Anakin cannot resist making a cheeky remark that arouses the suspicion of all who hear.

Obi-Wan senses his burning resentment towards the person and confronts him about harbouring forbidden attachments, which Anakin only proves by denying with such fervour. Chancellor Palpatine enables this volatility, pushing Anakin to take whatever extreme measures he feels necessary to exact justice, no matter how much it alienates him from the other Jedi.

If properly motivated, he will defend his friend's honour with a barrage of lightsaber strikes, cruel for a Jedi, or blows with his cybernetic fist at the hapless fool who crossed the line that day. The attack ends when he feels he has made his point and not a second sooner, not one punch less, because Anakin is not afraid to beat some people to death if he is not stopped or given a powerful incentive to restrain himself.

For lesser offences and when the object of his wrath is out of reach, Anakin practices passive aggression. He secludes himself in storerooms to tinker with various machinery, lies about his troubles to anyone who asks but Padmé, and later demands that this offender be shunned and distrusted by his colleagues.

Anakin lends his Padawan Ahsoka Tano a disturbing insight into the brunt of his protective fury when his friend comes under fire, whether from battle droids or Republic officials. He does his best to limit their role in missions he deems dangerous, and his voice of determination to expose and punish the culprit rings out after a threat falls upon them.

He proclaims their innocence in the face of accusations and rages at those who doubt them. Obi-Wan cautions him to have better control over his temper, but Anakin is outspoken about how absurd he finds the charges and will not rest until he has dragged the serpent who wants to scapegoat his friend into the light.

Until the rightful culprit from whom he wrings a confession is dead or rotting in prison, a cloaked menace that assaults and interrogates their known enemies besets the galaxy's underworld. Criminals are Force-choked left and right, while Chancellor Palpatine feeds Anakin's darkest urges after he storms into the Senate Building in search of guidance and validation.

Anakin will not hesitate to take the leaps no one else will when it comes to the special people in his life, and if his friend is a fellow Force user, he will abuse his ability to monitor them in this way. Anakin sees this as ensuring their protection from a hostile world hell-bent on making good people suffer, no matter that his retribution against those who try their luck with his friend grows worse with each passing day.

His perception of them holds more value in his eyes than their true nature. Even if they show a spiteful streak or manipulative tendencies, Anakin has long since convinced himself of their admirable character and springs into action to help them whenever possible. Perhaps he trusts them to make the right decisions after fighting together in the war, but Anakin tends not to think twice about the morally questionable actions they take on or off the battlefield.

Palpatine notices and exploits Anakin's willingness to bend and break the rules for someone, pulling some strings to put Anakin's friend in perpetual danger. He uses his network of cronies to force Anakin to make uncomfortable choices, such as sacrificing the life of another for his friend, which strains his other relationships and reflects poorly on the Jedi.

Romantic:

Every time some piece of scum manages to wound his partner, Anakin relives the agony of his mother's death and drowns in the fear that he will once again fail to save those closest to him. This desperation drives him to steamroll over entire battalions and lay waste to anyone who tries to dispute his right to act, Jedi or Sith. For Anakin, losing another person he holds dear is far more frightening than any punishment the Jedi Order could mete out.

Suppose he is indicted on war crimes or threatened with expulsion from the Order for leaving a trail of severed heads and limbs on his unauthorised journey to rescue the partner he is not allowed to have. In this case, Anakin calls the Jedi Council blind for not seeing things from his perspective and understanding why he had to defy orders and cut down that Separatist sympathiser.

Chancellor Palpatine informs Anakin that the Council must not trust him if it disregards his argument so thoughtlessly. On the other hand, he commends Anakin's resolve to fight for his emotions rather than against them. Palpatine even encourages him to follow his anger to its natural conclusions when he spots his partner in trouble, which nurtures further conflict in Anakin as the Jedi Order insists he does the opposite.

Anakin believes he is partly responsible for his mother's death. He blames himself because, as his guilty conscience tells him, he left her behind to pursue his own goals and returned only with weakness and insufficient urgency to help her. As a result, Anakin struggles with the lingering paranoia that he will make the same mistake twice when he cannot readily locate and confirm his partner's safety.

On the battlefield, Obi-Wan is one of the few people who can successfully talk Anakin out of putting the entire mission on hold until he finds them. On starships, clone troopers obey without question when General Skywalker gives the order to leave the room while he tortures a prisoner of war for information on their whereabouts and health.

Between missions, Anakin reaffirms that he values this relationship above all else in the galaxy, even promising to abandon the Order if his involvement in it becomes too great a hindrance. He fights for his comrades more than he fights for some grand peace, and if the options are honouring the Jedi Code or keeping his partner out of danger, Anakin will maim and intimidate his way to victory.

In his younger, more impulsive hours, he gave little thought to who might see his brazen displays, rushing to embrace his partner after long separations. As the war progresses, he grows more adept at hiding his affections from the stoic eye of the Council, even though his frustration at this leads him to arrange secret meetings and become increasingly defensive towards anyone who suspects the truth.

Of all his confidants, Anakin trusts no one more than his partner, but Captain Rex is a close second. Respecting his orders to comb the area whenever they stray a little too far from Anakin's field of vision, Rex does his part to watch over one of his commander and friend's favourite people. He makes no judgements of his own, though he does mediate between Anakin and other Jedi who might tell Anakin to cut his losses.

The clones under his command are not inclined to rebel when Anakin orders them to round up the populace he believes is involved in his partner's disappearance. Some troopers may be a little shaken when he starts strangling civilians with the Force until someone gives a lead; however, their training has taught them to follow all orders, even if it means raiding buildings and dragging people to face an enraged Anakin.

Too sick of the Council's deception to subject Padmé to the same backstabbing treatment, Anakin one day broaches the idea of bringing a third person into the relationship. He pretends not to have anyone specific in mind so that he can dismiss it as simple curiosity, only to betray his eagerness when Padmé asks for details.

She wants to see him happy, so she agrees to Anakin spending more time with them. However, Anakin applies a double standard: he would never tolerate Padmé or his partner being interested in someone else, let alone inviting that person into the relationship. This takes time and attention away from his emotionally starved self and implies to his abandonment-fearing mind that he is not good enough.

[lemedstudent2021]

ah yes, nothing says true love and commitment quite like

vandalism, tresspassing, murdering innocents in cold blood, committing war crimes, participating in ethnic cleansing and genocide, being part of an apartheid state that makes no secret of its colonial origins, among other things.

[peachesofteal]

As with many readers, I wish Graves a merry rot-in-hell. And wish only the best for Bunny, can’t wait until Ghost and Soap make war-crime cowboy regret everything.

We love war criminal on war criminal crime