#war imagery

[gucciguccigarbage]

It Matters.

I've been so normal about these guys since 2015

Posted using PostyBirb

[runawaycarouselhorse]

Israel's still playing the same tactic, telling civilians to evacuate one way, then shelling them there... they did the same with the tunnel they told them to pass through. Ethnic cleansing is the goal. Genocide is the goal. The two state solution was a lie and a temporary ruse from the very beginning and was never going to happen, that's why these ceasefires will never last. Even during "peace," they're actively stealing homes and displacing the Palestinian people, burning down their olive trees, etc.

And yes, they're still signing off these leaflets with the same ominous message that drone used:

لقد أعذر من أنذر

"The one who warned is excused," A.K.A. we're excused whatever we might do to you because we warned you beforehand. Monstrous.

(Political cartoon by SerajToon)

[therosefrontier]

No. 8: “I’ve got soul, but I’m not a soldier.”

Overcrowded ER | Outnumbered | “It’s all for nothing.”

+++

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Characters: Bosacius, Boyang, plus mentioned Alatus (Xiao), Menogias, Indarius, Bonanus

Placement?: canon lore backstory, the Cataclysm

Word Count: 1538

+++

He did not remember much, but he knew enough to know that what he was doing was right.

He had been wandering the land without aim—he was not sure where he had been, only that he had no purpose for being there. He was drawn to this place by the sound and smell of battle. It pulled him, invigorated him. He saw a great Chasm in the earth, monsters spewing from it like a flood. An army stood before the gap and fought the monsters, held the line. He thought that he would join this army of humans, or perhaps, he thought nothing at all. He only did. He came down, and he fought. Fighting was right; fighting was what he was meant to do. With the battle, came bits of clarity. He had been a warrior, once. He was sure of this. He knew that it had been a long time ago, and that many years of Nothing lay in between, but he knew that these humans were his allies. It was right that he should fight with them.

He was a yaksha, and he had no name. He knew that he had one, once, but not anymore. No, no, that wasn’t right—he did not lose his name, he only forgot it. Those two things were not the same. He was a yaksha with a name, who was once called a name by others. No one could take his name from him. No one.

Many ages ago, a four-armed yaksha lay on a battlefield, covered in blood. He was a warrior, but he was not free. A god found him. Forced him to a purpose. Chains hung from every wrist. He was destined to be a sacrifice today, but he did not die. What should he do, since he did not die?

“Do you have a name?” a hooded figure, clad in Geo from neck to fingertips, reached out his hand.

To give a name was a dangerous thing. However, he did not have one. If he did, it was taken from him.

They called him “yaksha,” or the “four-armed yaksha,” or the “purple yaksha,” or the “nameless yaksha.” He was fine with this. He had no memories to share with them, only instinct. He would drive off these hoards, and he would protect this land.

Much of this army of humans would die, however. The hoards were unrelenting, just like the gods and their armies of many years before. He knew that he had fought gods before, although he didn’t remember when. He knew this must be a lot like those days, an army against an army, except that their enemies had no god to lead them, no direction, no purpose except to kill. That made them easier to kill, in turn. They were disorganized. However, they were also strong. Many humans were killed. The monsters outnumbered them, and with every human that died, they would outnumber them even more, screaming cries of bloodlust into the dark cavern and pushing relentlessly to the sky above. The monsters kept coming. So, he would stay. As long as this tired army was here, so would he. No, even if they weren’t here, he would be. This was what he should do.

“They keep coming…” a soldier spoke to his comrades, his eyes wide with horror even while they sat by the campfire in between waves, polearms close by their sides as they waited for the call that would tell them to get up and fight again, because the enemy was upon them. “What if we can’t make it? This could all be for nothing…they won’t stop until every one of us is dead…”

“What!? Don’t talk like that!” his comrade grew angry with him quickly.

“I don’t want that to happen! But we…we have to do something. Something different. If we just keep going like this…we won’t stop them. It’ll just be a waste.”

“We should follow orders,” another one said calmly. “Trust that they will know what to do.”

“But we need so much more… where’s Rex Lapis? He called us here, but shouldn’t he be here? He always fought by the Milleleth’s side in the past, hasn’t he? I wonder why he isn’t here now. Surely, this disaster is just as great as the Archon War…”

“We should trust Rex Lapis. I am sure that, wherever he is, he is fighting too. We’ve seen no enemy gods commanding this hoard, haven’t we? Perhaps, there is a reason for that. We should trust.”

The yaksha stood behind the group, and he listened. Rex Lapis…he knew this name. Yes, he knew it very well, he thinks. Rex Lapis was…someone very good. Yes, someone very good indeed.

The horn was sounded when the next wave came. The men put down their food and extinguished their fires, and they took to arms. The three men who he watched discuss their fears all similarly ran into the fray without restraint. Every one of them died, that day. It was a terrible battle. But, the line still stood.

“Bosacius! Ah, there you are!” Indarias ran up to him, a smile on her face in spite of her chiding words. “Menogias was looking for you. Also, why are you still walking around with open wounds like that? Tsk, tsk, tsk. I can hear Guizhong now. She’ll shove more of her healing herbs at you.”

“Oh, yes, I am fine. I was patrolling…”

“Nope! You’re taking a break!” She grabbed one of his hands, the bandages wrapped around her arm flexing as she did so. “Come on!”

As his wounds grew deeper, and as blood and miasma clouded his gaze, he heard laughter.

Bright words, full of vigor, would be heard from his friends. That’s right—he had friends once. Indarias, Menogias, Bonanus, Alatus… what were their names again? He was certain he could see them here. He would call out for them, because obviously, if he was fighting, then they would be fighting too. They were always together. But then, he would forget. He would forget who he was calling for. He would forget their names. He forgot his name, too.

He heard screams, and his heart would be saddened to hear the screams of his friends, too. They fought a long, bitter battle. It tore them little by little, killing them more and more every time, until it was the end. Yes, all things must end. Even them. The darkness was a great, swallowing thing, just like the Chasm.

He left someone behind. Soon, he became sure of it. But who?

They made a decision. The battle must be won, and to win, they must use the compass, and seal this place for good. Some would have to be trapped down there. It needed the power of a yaksha and a human, a thaumaturge…so of course, he would not hesitate to offer. They must win. They must make sure that the sacrifices were not all for nothing. They must fight, so their homeland may live.

(Or perhaps, he knew it was the end, anyways. He knew nothing but battle. Especially now, when he knew so little at all. He knew only blood, so how could he leave it?)

He remembered now. There was someone he left behind. Alatus. He was the youngest among them, the last to take Rex Lapis’s hand. He had suffered very much…but he remembered his laughter, too. His smile. It did not come often, but it was never unnoticed. Not to him. He was sorry to leave Alatus behind. But he had faith in him. He was still alive—he knew it. He would live. He would see Liyue when it was whole, and happy. This would not all be for nothing.

“Brother! Brother, please…don’t die before me.”

Boyang had family. The yaksha asked him about them. He missed them, and the yaksha understood. He had forgotten about Alatus and about the ones who died for a very, very long time, but it was clearer now, and he knew that he missed them.

His body was giving out. The pain hardly registered, simply because he was very used to this, or perhaps because his mind was too far gone to pay such a thing any mind. But right then, before the end…he remembered again.

Alatus, Indarias, Bonanus, Menogias. His friends…no, his family. He saw their shadows waiting for him, just on the other side. He remembered a million memories all at once, remembered that he was happiest with them by his side. Painful flashes struck his soul, making him think of their suffering and death, but mostly, he remembered how they lived. Talking and laughing by the fire, food cooked in the wilderness, seeing the mountains like he had never seen them before, lighthearted antics when the days were bright. He also remembered long days of recovery after a difficult fight, dark nights of mourning a comrade’s loss, difficult discussions when they or their nation had to deal with some trial ahead…but in that, too, they lived. Because they were together.

There was always going to be a tomorrow. And tomorrow was worth fighting for.

It would not all be for nothing.

“I am Bosacius!” he said out loud, vigor filling his lungs even as his form became weak. He could see them. Menogias, Indarias, Bonanus. They were waiting for him. “And my duty…is to make the ultimate sacrifice!”

[coffeeangelinabox]

Febuwhump #23 Presumed Dead

They make it back, tired and heart worn and sore. Prince Corin's armour is scuffed, no longer bejewelled and shining, fit for the heir to the throne. Now it is tarnished and used, a warrior's protection. Beside him, trail Thorstan and Wulf. They are even more tattered, having fought their share of the Dread Hordes from beyond the mountain and protected their Prince besides.

Thorstan bears a bandage over his head that hides the terrible ruin of the left side of his face. That eye will never see again.

He should be with the healers. Wulf knows, should have fought him on it. Thorstan is...

Well.

He has lost too many brothers today, he could not stand to lose another for something he could have prevented.

Corin catches Wulf's eye and they share the thought. It is Corin who takes the blow to his pride, more even than Wulf, he could have forced Thorstan to remain behind, to be treated, to get the help he so clearly needs as blood trickles from beneath the grey cloth.

He puts a hand on Thorstan's shoulder. "I need to stop. I need-"

Thorstan glares with his one good eye, clearly prepared to declare himself ready to walk the breadth of Morgrieve if that will prove to his companions that he is as fine as he claims.

"Please," Corin says softly, "just a few moments."

Thorstan concedes with a jerky nod and bad grace. The three settle at the road side. They look little better than beggars, Wulf thinks, and will just have to hope that no over zealous lawman passes by or this will get embarrassing quickly.

They have campaigned together since they were young men, and the rhythms of a life time do not need to be spoken of. Prince Corin crouches behind Wulf, unbuckling the straps of his armour. Wearing it is the only practical way to carry it, but that doesn't make it comfortable attire to sit in the sunshine. Wulf barely acknowledges him, already kneeling before Thorstan, examining the blanket, cleaning what can be cleaned without causing him more pain.

Even more than when they were walking, the missing piece of their puzzle now becomes an unignorable ache.

It's Thorstan who says it. Of course. He's never been one to let silences fester and wounds remain unspoken. Even he can't speak Jodrell's name.

"He could be fine."

"I saw him fall." There is no recrimination in Corin's voice, but no quarter either. "I-"

"He's the best of us," Thorstan pleads back. "He taught all three of us. He deserves more than-"

And he does. He deserves more than to fall in this cowardly ambush; to fall to Dread Hordes; to be left to be torn apart because the army was quite thoroughly routed.

"You should have let me go to him." Prince Corin echoes their thoughts.

"No." Wulf's hands remain gentle on Thorstan's face, but his tone is sharp. "He fell to protect you, Highness. I would not let you demean his sacrifice by courting suicide to collect his body. You know he would not ask that of you."

Corin doesn't answer. He knows Wulf is right. The Dread Hordes are in the citadel. The king is doubtless dead. He is the only hope the people of Morgrieve have. He knows - uncomfortably - that Thorstan and Wulf and...and...Jodrell are his closest friends and confidants, but that they are his guards first and foremost. Each would face the fire for him, out of duty as well as love.

Now though, he knows he must accept it. If the cost of his life is that of his friends...he will have to pay such a cost. Personal loss be damned.

A cost Jodrell has already paid.

Thorstan groans in his chest as Wulf probes the deep laceration. "Come on. If I sit here any longer, I won't be able to move, and we're no where near far enough away yet."

Corin helps Wulf back into his armour, sighing that the reprieve was so short he never even removed his own breastplate.

The look around and, ever in tune, each knows that the others are thinking the same thing. They've been separated before. They have signs and codes.

They leave none of them. There's no point.

*

Some days later, bloodied, limping, scarred and starving, Jodrell follows them anyway. He will reach his Prince of die trying.

[kheimerios]

[glassgob]

fresh tattoo vibes

[Image ID: Digital illustration of ARC Trooper Fives from Star Wars: The Clone Wars. He is in profile, his face tattoo freshly weeping down his face. End ID.]

[runawaycarouselhorse]

[background music; pre, war, and post-era, so expect the Rising Sun flag.]

This is absolutely beautiful, sometimes funny (I had to laugh ehen we first saw how sour snd grumpy she looked as a baby—and how she didn’t smile even at various milestones like the pictures with her class, her groom, and her first child) but also sad…

That doll was so lovely, also!!

[Shashinkan 寫眞館] (The Portrait Studio), bittersweet short animation film released in 2013 by Studio Colorido. Thanks Tanpopo + Lilys_animes for rediscovering this one, I had never seen it <3

The story starts before wwii. At the top of a hill lives a photographer. A couple comes to be photographed with their daughter, yet she does not seem to want to smile...

This short nails the first half of 20th century ambience, from fashions across decades to historical events (wars, earthquake, ...) creeping up at the seams.

Mood reminds a lot of the novel Tokyo sebun rōzu (Tokyo seven roses) by anti-war author Hisashi Inoue.

[jaradraws]

bishop takes queen

[loosebaron]

Worth remembering that for the entire rest of the episode, while Colins saying things like “no secret is worth this” hes covered in viscera from the explosion. He’s the only one to come out of the fight with the (literal) blood of queen Pamela on his hands- despite deli and raphaniel being the ones to kill her. So when Deli asks what he means when Colin says he doesn’t trust their group being in the cave, Colin is STILL drenched in blood when he says “I think you know what I mean”

[lisondraws]

All the time in the world -

Newmann Secret Santa for @pomeplanetary with some married and happy lovers!!! I really hope you will like it :'D

[mayhemspreadingguy]

“You who never arrived in my arms, Beloved, who were lost from the start.” –Rainer Maria Rilke

[bolithesenate]

Sifo-Dyas never found his crystal...

... but that's okay because he has Dooku.

[backtodecember]

there’s something so fucking devastating about ‘sit with you in the trenches’ > ‘we survived the great war’ > ‘all I did was bleed as I tried to be the bravest soldier’

[red-moon-at-night]

The Heart wants what it wants.

[redactedcrowart]

cottonmouth for your time?

[catsandcatci]

the way that you can so clearly tell if an artist's primary fandom is the silmarillion or the hobbit/lotr by the way they draw Elrond