#CW: war

[melestasflight]

In the Silmarillion fandom, we enjoy grabbing the trope of “Nolofinwëan recklessness” and running wild with it. 

The most common victims of this are Fingon the Rash Prince and Fingolfin the Impulsive King, who rushes into suicidal combat. Both father and son daring death within Morgoth’s domain. 

It’s fun to write and exciting to imagine, no doubt, but I’d like to offer a different take. In fact, what makes Fingon and Fingolfin (and the rest of that family) compelling to me is their patience and endurance.

Yes, I’m aware Fingon rushes to battle at Alqualondë, but that’s a world-altering event. The light of the world has literally gone out, murder has happened in Valinor, Finwë is dead. Most of the Noldor are up on their feet and ready to depart. Everyone is rushing.

But this is not always the case with Fingon. Most significantly, the rescue of Maedhros is NOT an impulsive decision. The published Silmarillion offers no timeline on this, but in The Grey Annals, five entire years pass between the arrival of Fingolfin’s host to Beleriand and Fingon’s decision to look for Maedhros. 

Five years in which the two hosts are quite literally on the verge of civil war because, let’s not forget:

No love was there in the hearts of those that followed Fingolfin for the House of Fëanor, for the agony of those that endured the crossing of the Ice had been great, and Fingolfin held the sons the accomplices of their father. 

Diplomacy is a painfully slow (and absolutely frustrating!) ordeal. Fingon’s decision is born from this strife, from thirty years on the Helcaraxë, and five years of civil restlessness, not to mention the clear signs that Morgoth is ready to attack them at any moment:

Then Fingon the valiant, son of Fingolfin, resolved to heal the feud that divided the Noldor, before their Enemy should be ready for war; for the earth trembled in the Northlands with the thunder of the forges of Morgoth underground. 

This is not rashness. This is the sacrifice of a captain who is willing to make the best of what time is left before full-out destruction begins. It would be rashness if Fingon got his company and crossed Mithrim to wage battle on the Fëanorians. Instead, he chooses differently for the sake of peace, stability, and renewed friendship.

The trek from Lake Mithrim to Thangorodrim could be estimated at around 150 miles, depending on the map we follow, and there are grasslands and two sets of mountains to cross, not to mention the horror of Thangorodrim. Fingon travels on foot. It would take him weeks, maybe even months, to find Maedhros. Plenty of time for the fire of rashness to cool down if that was the case. But he persists because he has no other choice.

Similarly, I often see takes on Fingolfin that he rushes to pointless combat with Morgoth in the same manner as Fëanor had done. Yet again, the timeline is crucial here. The published Silmarillion has the battle lasting at least several months. Bragollach starts in F.A. 455 during winter time: 

There came a time of winter, when night was dark and without moon

The battle slows down presumably a few months later:

but the Battle of Sudden Flame is held to have ended with the coming of spring, when the onslaught of Morgoth grew less.

The onslaught grows less, but it doesn’t fully cease. Morgoth and Sauron reissue their attacks early into Fingon’s kingship.

In the Grey Annals, the timeline  is stretched further out:

Year 455:

The Fell Year. Here came an end of peace and mirth. In the winter, at the year's beginning, Morgoth unloosed at last his long-gathered strength

Year 456:

Now Fingolfin, King of the Noldor, beheld (as it seemed to him) the utter ruin of his people, and the defeat beyond redress of all their houses, and he was filled with wrath and despair.

The fighting goes on actively anywhere from a season to a full year! Fingolfin tries to hold his kingdom together for a full year despite an absolute, unquestionable disaster. I mean, look at this description of the battle:

In the front of that fire came Glaurung the golden, father of dragons, in his full might; and in his train were Balrogs, and behind them came the black armies of the Orcs in multitudes such as the Noldor had never before seen or imagined. And they assaulted the fortresses of the Noldor, and broke the leaguer about Angband, and slew wherever they found them the Noldor and their allies, Grey elves and Men. Many of the stoutest of the foes of Morgoth were destroyed in the first days of that war, bewildered and dispersed and unable to muster their strength. War ceased not wholly ever again in Beleriand

Fingolfin’s decision to ride out, again, is not out of recklessness or a spur-of-the-moment decision. It’s everything but that. He has given everything and truly believes it’s all lost: “the utter ruin of his people, and the defeat beyond redress of all their houses.” (!!!) 

This is a final stand, the King’s duty to stand by his people, even in death.

[mitchelf-citadel]

Monsters

TNO commission + bonus sketch

The New Order: Last Days of Europe

(Disclaimer: This is artwork based on an alternate history video game)

[susartwork]

Underwizard - THE WAR

Humans, before the war, could use magic only by learning it. They had to study their whole lives to be able to master their spells, unlike the monsters who had those powers living within their souls.

So when humans discovered that by absorbing the souls of monsters they could gain those powers, they began THE massacre…

At first it was a few murders in the streets, then… those murders became battles, and then a world war.

Those who hunted monsters for power were classified as "HUNTER WIZARDS," but when the original wizards began to die out, the distinction no longer mattered, and we now call those terrible creatures simply "WIZARDS."

At some point some of the major hunter wizards became the ones in power, who were the only ones allowed to absorb souls. They even formed armies to find and enslave monsters, who would then be killed when they "needed" more souls.

Within a few years, most of the monsterkind was dead or enslaved…

That was the moment when the seven stronger hunter wizards decided to stop this massacre by sealing the monsters underground with a magic spell, also known as THE BARRIER.

Then, they were executed for treason.

Since I can't draw at the moment, I thought I'd share a more detailed look at the war in Underwizard for the anniversary.

I have so much lore about this! I had to share some.

[aigoos]

Till on the Haunting Flares We Turned Our Backs | Angsty Obikin Oneshot | Rating: M | Words: 8,600

Summary: After the Clone Wars, Anakin and Obi-Wan leave the Jedi Order and settle in Alderaan. They want to live happily ever, but Anakin needs to face his own demons.

Title from Wilfred Owen's poem, "Dulce et Decorum Est" because that line is absolutely fitting for this fic. I generally don't write angst, but this idea came to me months ago and wouldn't let me go . . . until the evil writer's block of doom came and stayed with me for much too long. But I finally finished this fic, which I'd started back in November 2023 . . . let's just say I'm thrilled to finally complete this! This is also my 100th works on AO3! Many thanks to @to-proudly-go, @fulcrum843, @wibzenadarksiderwithasoftheart, @kidrest, @veloursdor, and @renlyslittlerose for cheering me on and helping with this fic! And a super thank you to @tideswept for betaing and also waving the poms for me! I hope you'll enjoy this! <3

A03 URL: Link to Fic

[mysterious-headhunter]

(I could not sleep… I hope this is not too gruesome for you.)

*I stare down at the back of his head. His hair parts round the barrel I’m pressing against his skull. I feel a small pressure in my hand as he pushes the barrel deeper into his skull.*

“I thought you followed orders. Shoot.”

*the figures hands bound behind him. His shirt rips to shreds with blood staining the remnants. He’s yelling at me*

“I said shoot. Or do you not follow orders when they hurt your feelings?*

*his hatred for me is obvious in his voice.*

“I…you can still be forgiven…you don’t need to die-”

“I SAID SHOOT.”

*my eyes closes, a hollow jester as everything is still recorded with my secondary camera. I watch as my hand pulls the trigger of the gun. I listen to the sound as his head is blown in and splatters against the wall.*

*I get up and walk past the body of the children he tried stopping me from killing. Damn fool. Why couldn’t he just follow orders? Why did he have to go and get a concussion? Why?…*

*I continue to walk to my ship as I hear a scream. I do not turn, as I board my ship and activate stealth.*

*I fly off leaving behind 12 bodies. The king, his queen, their advisor, their children, those poor maids, and my apprentice.*

***

*I regain consciousness in my room*

“I didn’t know I could sleep…let alone dream”

*I look over to see @druidicrepository staring at the wall as my projector retracts back into my head.*

(Also I have had no one spell check this so it could just be grammatically shit if so I’m sorry)

@druidicrepository

[tanuki-kimono]

cw: war, internment camps

I rarely speak about modern History on this blog, especially things concerning wwii. But some stories are far too important not to be shared.

It's not a story about grand battles, heroism, and other yadayada. And yet somehow it is. Because there is something visceral about mending the past and laughing through tears.

Becky you'll probably never read this but I am damn sure Akiye is cheering! I and all people hurt by war somewhere sure do!

(For those interested, Becky and Akiye's story starts here)

[kervl-klear]

LongShort story below! ✨

Instructed

22 years ago, after the unauthorized hostage return from Northland. West coast announced the plan to raise their oil price which led to an international conflict that span several years.

8 years later, Bingsan was deployed for the first time. He was 17 and was just a seaman recruit instructed to guard the truce. The instruction was simple, don’t let Southwood airborne unit invade the land behind him.

Southwood army dropped their airborne unit near the shore as they don’t want to risk triggering any West coast’s anti-aircraft weapons. The operation was done as discreetly as possible. Unfortunately, being the nation with the best Navy in this world. It does not take West coast long to spot them.

West Coast considered exterminated the entire camp at first. However, they don’t want to risk having Southwood call for reinforcements or reveal the piece they have at hand, so they only set up a patrol and defense where it is necessary.

..............................................

The patrol went normally until one day, during one of Bingsan's patrols. A swift fox dressed in enemy uniform approached him.

Bingsan was about to shoot but then realized that the fox is completely unarmed.

Bingsan: “State your business”

He spoke sternly. The fox doesn’t reply, he is getting pale and broke out in cold sweat. Suddenly, his expression steeled up and he slowly reach out offering Bingsan a bar of chocolate.

Although confused, Bingsan is steadfast and still like a statue. He doesn’t lower his gun but also doesn’t shoot either which greatly impressed the fox, could this serval really be refusing to shoot just because he is unarmed?

The fox pulls back then slowly unwrapping the chocolate without breaking eyes contact, he took one bite out of it then offer it back to Bingsan again. Swallowing the chocolate in front of him.

In response, Bingsan lower his gun and took the chocolate. The fox then slowly back away, vanishing into the direction of his camp.

..............................................

After his patrol shift is over, Bingsan's commanding officer approaches him with another soldier. That soldier took over the patrol while Lt. commander escorts Bingsan back to the truce.

Lt. commander: “Anything abnormal during today patrol?”

Bingsan wasn’t sure how he can explain the situation.

Bingsan: “I…received a chocolate”

Lt. commander: “A chocolate?”

Bingsan handed the chocolate he got from the fox to Lt. commander, Lt. commander inspected the chocolate closely. 75% dark chocolate with paprika and roasted orange peels made in Southwood.

Bingsan: “The enemy offered this to me, sir”

..............................................

At Southwood camp near the shore, the rest of airborne division are eagerly waiting for the return of their coworker.

Major: “Welcome back Private Jijin, did you complete my instruction?”

Jijin paused for a bit but before he could reply. Major spot a small trace of chocolate on Jijin’s check, he quickly grabbed Jijin’s shoulder and call for medic.

..............................................

A couple of days ago, major submitted the idea of infected food to the armament. The food will be infused with virus from the Southern part of nation and only Southwood’s medicine can cure the illness.

Major had been watching each seaman recruit on patrol in which he finds a specific serval that show many signs of beneficial mindset from warning with speech before shooting to giving flower to the body of all soldiers regardless of nations he came across. Major believes this serval will be naive enough to accept a negotiation gift from unarmed enemy, so Jijin’s was instructed to offer the chocolate to that seaman recruit.

Jijin: “No sir, I didn’t ingest the infected chocolate!”

Jijin show a bar of new and cleanly packed chocolate to his Major.

Major: “Oh, okay. Thanks god- wait, you didn’t give the chocolate to the seaman recruit?”

Jijin: “I….couldn’t do it”

Major raises his eyebrows.

Jijin: “I go out there and it's no longer just an area with flashing light. I see other individual....... I couldn’t give him something so cruel, so I offer him another bar that I planned to eat”

Major sighed.

Major: “It’s good to be able to show sympathy but do be aware that if West Coast manage to set the price they aim for, life cost for many nations will became so high that the economic will corrupt. Not just us but also many smaller and less develop nations. This is an international widespread poverty threat. The amount of possible move we have is extremely limited, I know this is a violation of international convention but please do follow my instructions strictly next time”

Jijin: “….Yes sir”

..............................................

On the next day from the West Coast truce direction, Jijin saw Bingsan approaches the camp with a small box of candies completely unarmed.

Jijin immediately realize what Bingsan is here for.

Jijin: “Hold fire, he’s unarmed!”

Jijin told his coworker. Unfortunately, no one lower their gun. With suffocating expression, Jijin put his gun down then anxiously approach Bingsan. Only then that some soldiers lower their barrel a little.

Slowly, Bingsan handed him a box of candies with a shaking hand. Clearly terrified that at least over a hundred barrels are pointing at him from behind Jijin and there is nothing he can do to defense himself.

Jijin reaches out to take the box and immediately open it. There’s nothing but candies inside, he turns around. Make sure that the rest of his troop can see him then eat one candy in front of them.

The other soldiers gasped in horror.

Nothing significant seem to happen to Jijin, Major who has received report from other soldiers rushed to the front to check the situation. He looks at Jijin, Bingsan and the item in Jijin's hands.

He then gives Bingsan an unfriendly look, Bingsan got chill down his spine expecting either shot on sight command or taking him in as a prisoner.

Major: "Please return to your post, seaman recruit"

Major said sternly, this greatly surprised Bingsan. He looks at the commanding officer with dumbfounded expression.

Major: "NOW"

Quickly, Bingsan give major a bow then ran back to his truce.

Major: "Private Jijin, I need to talk to you"

Jijin’s commanding officer scolded him for the lack of self-preservation. Major reminded Jijin that it could have been a trap and even if the serval was sincere, it will be unlikely that Jijin would have a heart to open fire at the truce knowing the chance of hitting someone he now personally knows. Jijin had made things unnecessary harder for himself.

..............................................

At the truce, Lt. commander approach Bingsan who just came back.

Lt. commander: “Where were you, seaman recruit?”

Bingsan: “I decided to return the enemy a gift, sir"

Lt. commander smacks the nearby desk so loud that every seaman in the truce turn their attention toward him and Bingsan.

Bingsan: "He accepted my candies, and their commanding officer ordered the other soldier to let me go, sir. Maybe we can still negotitat-"

Lt. commander: "IF THAT WORKED, WE WOULDN'T HAVE TO BE HERE"

Bingsan instinctively take a step back which cause the commanding officer to take a deep breath.

Lt. commander: "My bad for the unprofessional tone....you see, if we don't raise the export oil price. West coast will suffer even more severe poverty problem. The national debt is piling up every minute as we speak and most of our citizens start to suffer trouble where they cannot effort education or proper healthcare not to mention the 15% taxes but once we success, many logistic costs around the world will also suffer immense raise that in the case of a small nation far away from mainland like Southwood, isolated by a very big body of water all around. It will cost twice as much to produce something as simple as a bottle of water and a loaf of bread could cost more than 8 hours of their minimum wage"

Bingsan understand that raising the oil price is necessary, the current price had everyone in the nation working underpaid and other country like Northland and Bay Hill had been taking advantage of the situation by investing for their underpaid labor and cheap resource.

And the offered price goal is the lowest West Coast could effort if they want to get out of their predicament. There is no way to compromise.

..............................................

Later in the morning of next day, Bingsan decided to sneak out again. Since they already suffering from financial problems, wouldn't it be dumber to wasted citizens taxes on bullets and guns?

Walking on the field, he's surprised to see that Jijin might have the similar idea.

Bingsan: “You…”

Jijin: “…It’s you..”

Slowly they walk toward each other until they are in the middle of field, it’s…surreal.

They stand still, staring at each other for almost a full minute. They are unsure if the universe will really allow them to hold a conversation, it’s seems to good to be true.

Jijin: “…I…my name is Jijin”

Jijin spoke awkwardly.

Bingsan: “Jijin….as in ‘Earthquake’?”

Jijin: “Yep, that kind of Jijin. What’s your name?”

Despite the awkwardness, it was proven that their conversation will not cause the end of the world. To relieve the nervousness, they decided to take a stroll while talking.

Bingsan: “It’s Bingsan”

Jijin: “Bingsan…..an ‘Iceberg’ huh, that name describes you well”

Bingsan: “Are you implying that I would sunk most ship I steer?”

Jijin laughed.

Jijin: “Are you projecting?”

Bingsan: “Well, I’m just a seaman right now. You’ll have to let me live so I can become commander, only then will you get the answer”

Bingsan gives Jijin’s a little sly smile and Jijin reply with another laugh.

Jijin: “I’ll see what I can do. Unfortunately, I don't think I have particular quality to convince you to do the same with me”

Bingsan: “No need, just existing is enough for me to protect you. If it's not for your chocolate I wouldn't start thinking about the situation we are in”

Both pause their stroll; Jijin expression went blank and Bingsan became worried if he was being too straightforward, especially that Jijin's expression slowly turns darker.

Jijin: "The trust you've given to me is unearned. I was instructed to gifted you an infected chocolate, but I chickened out, so I ended up giving you the other bar"

Jijin looks down in shame.

Jijin: "I'm a hypocrite like that, I have no problem shooting a building or destroy a vehicle as long as I don't know if there are people inside but face to face, I don't have the courage to get my own hand dirty"

Bingsan: "Your cowardness is what saved my regiment though, so you proved my statement even more valid. But about the command you received, isn't that a war crime?"

Jijin: "Yes, it is and major is completely aware of it. Which is a little funny because out of 32 airborne divisions, that man is the most mild manner officer you'll ever met"

Bingsan: "Ah, I can see that from yesterday. Both of you are soft but brash, my arrival could have been a trap to lure him out you know?"

Jijin: "A seaman that refused to shoot an unarmed enemy wouldn't have a heart to do that, what about you commander? What are they like?"

Bingsan sighed, it's not that he doesn't like his commander. It's just that Lt. commander always appear to be out of placed.

Bingsan: "He's distance and aloof, he's always there for us but there's an ice around him no one knows how to break"

Jijin: "He sounded opposite from you. You look serious and stoic, but you always let people approach you or at least you let me approach you and consider the circumstance that is an incredible feat"

Bingsan: "I just like to find excuses; I tend to procrastinate pulling triggered until it's too late. One time I followed one of the intruders to take them down but instead of shooting. I wasted the entire day watching that intruder freeze to death"

Jijin knows that Bingsan use the word intruders for a reason and he’s not sure if it’s a bad idea to continue or a bad idea to change the subject.

Bingsan: “We both lack a quality of a good soldier it appears, I only come here because submarine engineering major at West coast is only available for petty officers and up. What makes you join the regiment?”

Jijin: “I want scholarship for flight school, it’s easier to stack up the required flight hours as a fighter pilot”

Bingsan: “Interesting, why not join the Air force then?”

Jijin: “Yeah I….misunderstood that the airborne regiment is part of Air Force-“

As the two soldiers continued laughing and enjoying each other company. Their commanding officers noticed their soldiers going missing.

..............................................

The other privates that sleep in the same tent as Jijin report his absence to major. This sends the major to a bit of panic, he would order the other privates to do a search. But he doesn't want to potentially weaken the defense by having his privates pause their routine.

He should have captured that seaman, major thought. Maybe he can indoctrinate him into becoming a double agent. If West Coast kill that seaman, major can use his death to raise the moral in the camp and encourage Jijin to kill more. If that seaman manages to stay alive until the war end and they need to exterminate him, he can just tell Jijin that the seaman went home.

Now his decision risk both intel leakage and being suspected of treason.

With clenched fists, major set out to find his private.

..............................................

Lt. commander: "Lieutenant, I have to be somewhere else for a while. Do take care of the truce in my place"

Lt. commander then set off, resulting in confused reaction from his second in command.

Lt. commander traces the patrol path his seaman recruit use during his shift, hoping to find the escaped Bingsan. However, he soon spots other officer in enemy uniform seemingly in the rank of Major.

Lt. commander draws out his gun, which Major immediately respond by turning around and draw out his own firearm.

Right there, their eyes meet.

Seeing familiar face, both officers do what they can to conceal their reaction.

‘So that is where Seoltang’s was deployed to’ Lt. commander thought to himself.

‘Ah, I guess it would make sense for Northland to send Noeu here considering his race’ Major thought to himself.

8 years ago, Noeu was responsible for the conflict so being dispatch here out of all places and meet his classmate from the same spy training ground on the opposite side is like a joke on him.

Both officers lower their gun.

Major Seoltang: "I see that you still look as good as always"

Lt. commander turns around to hide his flushes, he would reply with another compliment but is too shy to do so and Major know it all too well.

Lt. commander Noeu: "But it does make too much sense. The first two nations that know about the hostage situation are West coast and Northland so I can see what Northland is trying to achieve, still it is quite unsettling to know how much control Northland is seeking over the situation"

Major Seoltang: "Indeed....."

Major thinks about his fellow espionage coworker in Southwood arm force, a Tulip lsland soldier who were blackmailed into becoming one of Northland spies.

He'll have to report this to Berry Mountain.

..............................................

Both Jijin and Bingsan are cornered by Lt. commander, two young soldiers had found an area secluded from the patrol of both sides however, Bingsan's Lt. commander had always been oddly talented at finding things and people. Bingsan is a little pale, he knows that his superior is strict and will definitely not let them off.

Bingsan: "S-sir, I can explain-"

Lt. commander Noeu: "Save yourself the embarrassment, seaman recruit"

Major Seoltang: "It is quite shameful indeed to run off on your duty like that, both of you"

Jijin is startled by the voice behind Lt. commander. This is the first time he sees his Major in stealthing action, and it is no wonder how he can stalk the patrolling seamen day and night without any of them noticing.

But more importantly, both enlisted are in awed to see their commanding officers standing together calmly and peacefully.

Lt. commander Noeu: "We had an agreement, if you no shoot then we also no shoot"

Major then nodded politely.

Major Seoltang: "But please note that this will only last until one of us receive further order form the generals of our respective nation. We formed this agreement on mutual belief that this is a war no one want"

Jijin: "Sir, but isn't that a secret treaty?"

Major smile in return.

Major Seoltang: "If we win the war, we won't have to prosecute ourselves. So, you better kill like no tomorrow once the next order arrives"

Jijin jolts a bit.

Lt. commander Noeu: "You are horrible"

Major only laughs softly.

Lt. commander Noeu: "But seriously seaman recruit, you better fill at least one full bucket with enemy blood once we got the order"

..............................................

Months passed; the agreement broke once Bingsan regiment were ordered to take offensive stance after West coast's national bank went bankrupt.

Jijin and Bingsan are allowed to meet each other one last time by their commanding officer however was strictly instructed to not share their contact to each other as the espionage accusation may become legally valid if they both have a way to contact each other.

Jijin take Bingsan's hand.

They squeezed each other hand tightly, there is no way around this it seems. But out of the sudden, Bingsan leap into an informal hug which Jijin return with no hesitation.

In the end they didn't manage to change anything about the war but if war can be stop with such simple method, then they would not be here.

After letting go from the hug they trade their insignia, they salute at each other and fire a blank shot into the air.

..............................................

Curiously enough, mid conflict both Bingsan and Jijin received new deployment and were moved away from their original base. It almost as if someone know about their relationship and is worried about them committing treason together but at the same time find the information they potentially have on each other to be too valuable to outright get rid of them.

Upon being deploy to the new territory however, they found that neither of their commanding officers were with them. It seems as if they just faded out of existence.

..............................................

After Strawberry Mountain genocide. The conflict mellows down a little as both nations turn their attention toward the more horrifying threat, Northland. However, the war never actually ends.

Both of them had become officers with secret side jobs and while they cannot stop thinking about each other, they must pretend to not know each other as the conflict continues.

..............................................

2 years later, CCT purge happened.

Another 2 years later, the attack at Area 21st happened.

..............................................

After their rank move up, they do get to see each other in many international conferences but they cannot talk to each other.

Still, they do notice each other's little gesture. Like defensing each other's presentation or called out on rude guest. What they can do to support each other is very minimum but it does not stop them to try and help each other out whenever they can.

Today is a rare occurrence, Jijin and Bingsan's name were located right next to each other on the seat chart. However, considering that the location of this conference is West Coast, it is very likely that the generals still have their suspect.

Bingsan can feel butterfly in his stomach, and although very subtle. Jijin couldn't quite breath properly.

This should be their happy moment but.....

..............................................

After the conference end, Bingsan left his bag on his seat and went to toilet. He then went back to his seat and start preparing to leave the room in which he finds that in his bag there's one thing that doesn't belongs to him.

75% dark chocolate with paprika and roasted orange peels made in Southwood.

..............................................

A sight of a city light sparkle in the distance surrounded by the field of snow, Jijin quietly enjoys the scenery after the conference end. He wonders if the town that Bingsan came from is anything quite like what in front of him.

Suddenly, Jijin can hear other person walk toward his direction. Bingsan stand right next to Jijin, curious as to what Jijin is looking at. Unfortunately, he had to keep some distance due to the fact that there are soldiers of other nations walking around the area, some chatting some strolling around.

In comforting silent, they are standing next to each other. They might not be able to wear the insignia they trade that day but....

Bingsan's coworker: "Hey man, what are you doing out here?"

Bingsan unwarp the chocolate he got from the conference then bite it. The crunchy sound of chocolate in cold weather peek Jijin's attention and his ears twitch a little. After he is sure that he got Jijin's attention, Bingsan then speak to his coworker.

Bingsan: "I'm admiring the sight of what make me want to wake up each day"

Bingsan’s coworker: "Now that's a level of patriotism I don't expect coming from you"

Bignsan then left with his coworker.

Jijin put on his hood, pretending that he's getting cold to hide his embarrassment. Knowing full well that the sight of what Bingsan was talking about was not the view of West coast.

The end

[may-be-made-of-arsenic]

also why is it always “shower thoughts this” and “shower thoughts that”. give me “thoughts i had putting on makeup”. /j

Polities was there throughout the entire Trojan war, if he has not killed someone (unlikely) then he has at the very least seen the bloodied battlefields.

none of the Ithacans died at Troy, but other soldiers in the collective Greek army did.

Open Arms become more tragic when you think of it from the perspective of a man who has seen a field strewn with the gore of comrade and enemy alike—his own hands are likely stained with blood—and wishes to not witness the cruelty of it again.

or something idk

[anonymousboxcar]

More Stanley (RWS) Headcanons

CW: non-graphic discussions of war, abandonment, smoking

——————————

-I like to think that Stanley had his MSR crew in his corner. In my mind, both were also veterans of WWI. They understood his struggles to adapt civilian life (albeit to a lesser extent, since they weren’t “born” into war as he was). And they did their best to support him during that transition phase they knew too well.

-Whenever he derailed, his crew didn’t give him any grief. They instead chatted and joked with him, trying to keep him from feeling embarrassed. They would also defend him to other crews and to MSR management. Again and again, they demanded that he be reguaged a second time.

-In return, Stanley grew to respect and care for his crew. He wafted warm steam on them in bitter winter months. He listened to them talk about their families, asking after them with an air of affected boredom. He tried his hardest to keep them safe in a derailment. He let them — and only them — call him Stan.

-When Stanley went behind the shed, he didn’t blame his crew. He knew they did all they could for him. He told them so, when they snuck over during their lunch breaks. They didn’t reply, sitting on the brick wall while scrubbing off all of his soot they could reach.

-He didn’t see them during his years in the mine. The site security was much higher; there was no chance of them sneaking in. He stopped letting himself wonder about them after the mine flooded.

-His fireman and driver worked on the MSR and other railways before retiring and moving to the same assisted living home. In my AU, they saw the newspaper articles about the successful restoration of an ex-pumping engine in the early ‘80s. Both of them were in shock: like everyone else, they heard that the mining company scrapped Stanley. But once they got over their shock, they recruited their grandchildren to take them to the Skarloey Railway, ASAP.

-Stanley, for his part, assumed his old crew weren’t around anymore. He came back to the sheds one day to find two older men there. He didn’t recognize them at first, even when they turned to face him. But he got there in the end.

(“‘Ello, Stan,” one said, offering a shaky smile.

All the air rushed out of Stanley’s firebox, his flame guttering. “That name ain’t yours to use. That’s…”

He stopped. He looked closer at them. One had the thin white scar on his forehead, enfolded in his wrinkles. The other had the mole on his left wrist, a soft brown hill on blue, veiny ridges of skin.

“…that’s for Fred and Paul.”

“Got it in one, Stan. Just like old times.”

“Not like old times.” Stanley‘s eyes burned. “A hell of a lot better, now that you finally showed up,” he laughed, watery and overflowing.)

-Fred and Paul paid Stanley many more visits, both on the SR and at the rail museum. They brought their children and grandchildren, who were eager to meet this storied American engine and friend. Stanley reciprocated this warmth, glad to see people he’d heard so much about.

-The end result was Stanley becoming a fast honorary member of the family. He cherished them as much as the engine family he made at the rail museum and on the SR.

(-The most recent family potluck took place at the rail museum, rented out for a Saturday afternoon. Some ambitious relatives asked Stanley if they could try cooking their food in his firebox. “Y’know, so you can taste it too?” asked one, hands in their pockets with a sheepish smile.

Stanley didn’t think of museum rules. He thought of the cigar an army officer lit in his firebox. He thought of all the smoke he tasted over the years — tobacco, gunpowder, and coal. He thought of new and old ash mingling, smudging together under shovels and his steady fire.

The food wound up burnt and caked with soot. Nobody minded, but everyone laughed and made it another story to tell.)

[aria-benedetto]

The Quiet Princess

So... I kind of accidentally wrote a short story? No idea how that happened.

Content warnings: Sexism, death, illness, war (mention) and I think that's about it?

1780 words

The story goes something like this:

Once upon a time, there was a princess. She was an only child, born after a great many attempts and struggle and waiting. Her birth greatly saddened the king, for his heir had to be a son. Tradition demanded it.

And so the young princess was raised to be a bride. One day, her husband would be king, but for now, she had to learn.

And there was much to learn for the young princess.

The princess was an energetic child. She loved to run, to climb and to play. But a good bride had to be quiet and still and so the princess had to learn to sit and be still.

The princess was an emotional child. She loved to laugh and she cried and she grew angry. But a good bride never inconvenienced others with her emotions and so the princess had to learn how to smile and not feel.

The princess was a talkative child. She loved to speak and to joke and to argue. But a good bride never raised her voice and never spoke without invitation and so the princess had to learn how to be quiet and never to speak unless spoken to.

And so the princess learned and she grew. She grew to be still and elegant. She grew to smile and always show the proper emotion. She grew to be quiet and never spoke unless spoken to.

She grew to be a bride.

And when the time came for a groom to be chosen, she wasn't perfect, but she was close. When the men who would be king came to her father, she sat and she smiled and she did not speak unless spoken to.

She laughed at their jokes and didn't make her own. She admired their strength and bravery and wit, just like a bride should.

And soon, her father made his choice.

Her groom was to be a prince from a neighbouring land, a youngest son, never to inherit the throne of his own country. A long-term ally, who could be trusted to keep agreements and know how to rule and how to be.

And the princess sat and she smiled and she did not speak unless spoken to.

A royal wedding could never be truly soon, for there were envoys to send and treaties to set up and preparations to be made, but it would take place soon enough. The prince stayed in his new home, of course, for there was much for him to learn.

He needed to learn about the lands that would one day be his. He needed to learn about the lords who would one day answer to him. He needed to learn about the castle that would soon be his home.

He did not need to learn about the woman who would soon be his wife.

And the princess sat and she smiled and she did not speak unless spoken to.

In the castle, ambassadors and envoys and nobility, both foreign and not arrived. The wedding was to be a joyful occasion for all.

There were decorations and flags and banners all around. The wedding was to be a beautiful occasion to be remembered in history.

The cooks and servants and tailors worked day in day out. The wedding was to be flawless, lest it ruin the celebration.

The princess was groomed and dressed and decorated. Dozens of tailors had created her gown, representing the devotion of the people. Jewellery adorned her neck and arms and head, representing the wealth of the country. Her face was painted beautifully, representing wonders to be found in the nation.

She was not perfect, but it was close.

Her handmaidens led her to the hall and the ceremony went beautifully. The ambassadors and envoys and nobility celebrated joyfully. The castle was beautiful, a wonderful background fit for the history books. The cooks had cooked flawless meals and the tailors had tailored flawless gowns and robes and suits and the servants served flawlessly. Nothing marred the celebration.

And at night, the newly wedded bride and groom were to render their flawless marriage into a perfect union.

But even a flawless celebration can only last so long and soon all the ambassadors and envoys and nobles went home. The decorations and flags and banners were taken down and stored for the next flawless ceremony.

The cooks kept cooking and the tailors kept tailoring and the servants kept serving, for what else was there to do? And while only a celebration had to be flawless, there never should be flaws when serving a king.

There was still much to learn for the prince. After all, he would one day be king. And so there was never much time for his bride but that had never been the point of the marriage anyway.

And while he learned, the princess should see to her own duties. She was to be quiet and demure and do what a bride should.

And so she sat and she smiled and she did not speak unless spoken to.

And the king was happy, for he had gained a son and the crown had gained an heir and the country would have a king. But the prince still had to learn and the kind would show him how to rule.

And so it was determined that there would be a grand sweep throughout the lands, for there must be no discontent and all the subjects must be loyal and devoted.

And the people were afraid, for an investigation always found discontent and doubts and treason, for that was its purpose.

And the princess sat and she smiled and she did not speak unless spoken to.

Before the hunt for malcontents and doubters and traitors could start, the king fell gravely ill. It was a strange illness that baffled the physicians and confused the healers and frightened the priests. For it had came upon him suddenly and without warning and no matter what they did, he only ever got worse.

His life was soon despaired of and the hunt was soon forgotten, for why hunt while the king is dying? There were other things to do, duties to assign and preparations to be made and positions to fight over. The prince did his duties as a prince should, for though he had been the youngest, he had grown up as the son of a king, so he knew how to rule.

And the princess sat dutifully at her father's bedside, as a daughter should. And she did not speak, for she was not spoken to. But neither did she smile, for no daughter should smile at her father’s deathbed.

And when the king died, the princess sat and she did not smile and she did not speak unless spoken to.

And when the king was buried, the princess stood at the grave and she did not smile and she did not speak unless spoken to.

And when the new king was crowned, the new queen stood at his side and she smiled and she spoke the words supposed to be spoken by a queen when her husband is crowned.

The new king was young and ambitious and he knew what he wanted and how to get it. Soon, the soldiers were polishing their weapons and the generals were planning their tactics and the king was drafting a declaration of war.

And there was great unrest among the people of the kingdom, for the last war had been costly and many still mourned the dead.

But when a king wants war, war he shall have, for what are the common people to do?

And the queen sat and she smiled and she listened.

And when the young king fell gravely ill as the old king had before him, there was great unrest, but no more than there had been before.

For an ill king cannot draft a declaration of war and a dead king cannot send a declaration of war. And while the generals still planned their tactics and the soldiers still polished their weapons, for those were their duties, the people watched and they waited and they planned.

In the castle, the physicians brewed their medicine and their tonics and the healers collected their herbs and their plants and the priests said their prayers and sang their hymns, but the young king grew worse rather than better, as the old king had before.

And the queen sat at his bedside, as a bride should.

Then the great nobles came and they talked of succession and inheritance bloodlines. And they fought, for they all believed themselves to be the next king. But the king lay dying and he could not speak.

And the queen sat and she smiled and she spoke:

"This is not your choice to make."

And there was a great uproar, for even a queen should never speak unless spoken to. And though her husband would be king, a queen could never choose. And though she was the old kings child, a queen could never rule.

But the queen stood and she smiled and she spoke:

"There is no need to fight over a broken throne."

And out the window behind her, the night was lit by flames. For while the nobles had debated their politics and the generals had planned their tactics and the soldiers had polished their weapons, the people had risen up, for they had suffered enough.

And the castle gates were wide open for the people, for servants are of the people. And many a soldier had long since stopped polishing his weapon and joined the people, for they were of the people and they were weary of war.

And when the great nobles finished watching the people spill into the castle and turned back to the queen, they found that she had gone, for no queen wants to be in the castle when the revolution comes.

And the revolution came and the generals looked at their tactics, but they could do nothing, for a general without soldiers is just a man. And the nobles made speeches, but they could do nothing, for a noble without an army is just a man. And the king lay in his bed and he could do nothing, for he was just a man and he was dying.

And the queen had disappeared, for she could have done nothing, for she was just a woman.

And outside the city stood the woman who used to be queen and she was laughing and crying and shouting. And she would no longer be quiet for she had no more reason to be.

[chronothread]

Butte

Some music to keep you company on this journey.

It’s always the same setting.

A long plain is laid out before you, a dense sheet of white blanketing the flatlands, no roads or trees in sight. It is nothing but ground, then suddenly a sharp dip down - an edge, a steep and merciless drop. You stand at the other edge…you always stand on the other edge. 

Behind you, jagged towers and peaks, Ishgardian in design, pierce the clouds - clouds that do not dare to even dream to reach the mountain you stand atop. Beneath you they look so small, insignificant compared to the ground you stand on. There are no other mountains, no hills that even consider keeping yours company. Yours is a solitary spire, and the daring monuments of your homeland stare at it in silence. In judgement. Never will they see the horrors wrought atop it - they stand too far and too low - but they will stand there all the same and moralize, and demonize, and idolize every drop of blood that will never stain their pure, white gloves. Even the snow, to its credit, often runs red.

And above you? Above you the heavens howl, and bite, and roar. Lightning flashes across the sky, onto the plains, and every flash is accompanied by a crack in the air - thunder makes its appearance announced and heralded no matter the day, no matter the place. The winds whistle and push - no, they rage - as snow is tossed across the air every which way you could imagine. But it isn’t enough to obscure the scene atop the mountain. It is never enough to obscure the scene. 

And somehow, impossibly so, it rains as it snows. The snow refuses to fall, caught in the wind’s serrated embrace. But the rain is not so easily swayed. The downpour is torrential, every droplet that splashes across your skin is stinging. Freezing. And in the darkness of the night, only the constant ghosts of levin painting the sky serve as a candle to your arduous journey towards the center of the plains. Levin and…

Dragonfire.

Snow and ice crunch under your boot, your twin swords sitting quietly on your waist. The air smells of iron, and soot. It smells acrid - of charred flesh and…pleasant almost. Of a freshly roasted spit. It would have been pitch black, but all the lightning streaking the sky and the sea of flames melting the snow which constantly freezes over once more is…more than enough. You can see it all. The sounds of battle. Steel on steel on keratin. Horrible, sickening sounds of bones snapping and talons tearing through flesh. Roars of great wyrms, battlecries of even greater warriors. Sometimes, you hear a familiar voice, see a familiar face. Always, it is drowned out by fire, by steel.

But you carry on. This mountain is violent, it is tragic, and it is repugnant and entrancing and it is maddening and-

It is your mountain all the same. Your mountain, their mountain. A mountain you had all scaled, with a path that you yet need to walk.

Over the years you’ve found that attempting to change any outcome here was futile. Save a life fated to be lost, and the mountain finds a way to smother it all the same. Take a life destined to swell into a putrid, revolting tumor…it will grow into a cancer either way. You are never fast enough to change anything here. They are all shades with a destiny that you cannot fight. Your blades were never good at cutting ghosts down anyway.

The few things you can fight are minor obstacles on your way forward. A squad of soldiers here, a dragon there. They charge you, hissing and leering and mocking your every pitiful movement. It used to weigh heavier on you - the accusations for your actions, for your crimes. Their blows used to knock you to the side, leaving you helpless for a sword to run you through, or flames to burn you to ash. Over the years, it’s all become numb. Light. Being rid of them was like sweeping ants into a drain - an afterthought. Nothing would deter you from the path.

Then, like every night before, you see them. In a clearing opposite of you, the violence of the battle subdued behind an invisible wall. A line that none would dare cross.

Your fate, your destiny. Tall. Muscular but not bulging. Athletic. A face with sharp features but soft skin, prominent cheekbones and long eyelashes. Two swords at the waist - always two swords - well-kept hair the color of nightshade…and eyes of intense, soul-piercing amber. A figure that seemed as if they had been sculpted by the very gods of this land.

It's you. Staring directly at you. Alone on the mountain, it is only you.

You draw steel, and so do you. Your footsteps quicken, a walk turns to a jog turns to a sprint. Your bladestrokes are masterful artistry, your inspiration, this cursed mountain. Your canvas? You. Always you. A portrait always fading yet always painting, desperately trying to finish a piece that disappears as quickly as it is painted. You plant your foot firmly on the ground and dart right with blinding speed, twisting your arm to swing your katana towards your neck. But you’re too fast, and your blade catches your blow perfectly as steel comes flying towards your head.

And yet even caught by surprise, you’re too fast. You duck, and slash at your feet - which you respond to by jumping and stabbing down towards your exposed back. Barely you evade it, rolling to your side and kicking off of the frigid snow to land gracefully on your feet once more. Your blades spark and crackle as levin brings steel to life and you cry to Halone to give you strength as you blast you with a violent, unstable stream of lightning. You raise your blades to meet this blast, gritting your teeth as you dig your heels into the ground and hearing the shifting of snow and the shattering of ice as you are pushed back from the sheer force of the attack you had fired at you. As the stream finally dies out, you stretch your blades left and right, in opposite directions, redirecting the energy sent your way as anything and everything in your path is vaporized cruelly - swiftly.

The next few hours are a blur. You dodge, you lunge, you strike, and you parry. And every effort of yours is met with equal skill, equal force, equal ferocity by you. You feel yourself wearier with every motion, as does the mountain. Dragonfire turns to embers, the singing of steel becomes muted whimpers, and the only thing that continues to rage on is the ever-present storm above you. Around you. Within you.

You stop, and so do you. You sheathe your swords and take several steps back. Ever so slightly you bend as you place your hands on the hilts of your swords. You recognize this stance; you close your eyes and nod at you. A silent, grim understanding of this gesture, of the only way this could end. You open your eyes, resolve etched into your features.

You run. And you run, and you run, and you run. You run towards you, and as you come close enough to kiss your features, you draw your blades and release your breath, resigned to whatever the mountain has in store for you.

You stand there, inches away from your eternal rival, back turned. For a moment, you feel nothing. Then searing pain in your side…you had won it seemed. And yet even as your knees begin to weaken, you hear a thud behind you. You had fallen. Blood drips from where you had been struck…yet it also seeps from your blades. You fall to the ground.

The snow is freezing, and you have naught the strength to stand. The battle had died before you did, dragons and men long dead, pure white now painted a morbid stench of crimson. 

You will die with only yourself on this mountain.

But…

You will not die alone.

You drag your aching form, even as your vision blurs and you can no longer recognize where the pain comes from your body. You cannot die alone. You will not die alone. You crawl towards you - the other you - their face despondent and broken. You refuse to let them die alone on this mountain, on your mountain. With every last drop of strength in your blessed cursed body you fight death itself off as you reach their body. 

It is cold on this mountain. But for just a moment, perhaps you may find warmth in yourself. In the moments between the fighting, a little warmth to lift the chill deep in your heart.

You look the other Gale in the eye. You’ve never spoken a word to them, but they understand as you press your foreheads against each other and close your eyes. You have lost everything once before…but in this moment, at least, you are reunited with yourself.

The towers below stare at your mountain. They will never see its peak.

[sarasa-cat]

An Israeli government request for 24,000 assault rifles from the United States is drawing scrutiny from American lawmakers and some State Department officials who fear the weapons might end up in the hands of settlers and civilian militias trying to force Palestinians from land in the West Bank, where violence has been surging, U.S. officials say.

The three proposed tranches of semiautomatic and automatic rifles are valued at $34 million and are being ordered directly from American gunmakers, but they require State Department approval and congressional notification. Israel says the rifles would be used by the national police force, but has also indicated that they could be given to civilians, people familiar with the weapons orders told The New York Times.

The State Department gave informal notification of the sale last week to congressional committees, which ignited concerns and prompted requests for the department to ask Israel tougher questions about how it intends to use the arms. Within the department, officials working on human rights issues have expressed reservations, while those overseeing weapons sales intend to approve the orders and announce them in the coming days, U.S. officials say.

The Israeli police are seeking to bolster their weapons arsenal after officials pledged to supply thousands of weapons to Israeli civilians in at least 1,000 towns and cities, including Israeli settlements in the occupied West Bank. About 500,000 Israelis have moved to settlements there over many years, which, along with military checkpoints, fences and other measures of the Israeli government occupation, keep the area’s 2.7 million Palestinians living in separate small enclaves.

Although much of the global criticism of Israel’s recent actions has centered on its airstrikes in the Gaza Strip, which health ministry officials there say have killed nearly 10,000 people, President Biden and his top aides are increasingly worried about rising violence in the West Bank.

Even before the Oct. 7 Hamas terrorist attacks set off the current war in Gaza, violence by Israeli settlers in the West Bank who aim to force Palestinians from strategic tracts of land had risen well above the level of recent years.

U.S. officials attributed that to the encouragement of settlers by the far-right government of Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and statements by some Israeli officials supporting the annexation of the West Bank. Since Oct. 7, more than 150 Palestinians have been killed in the West Bank — nearly equal to the number in all of 2022, according to the Palestinian Health Ministry.

Most of the killings have taken place during encounters with the Israeli military, but some have been at the hands of gun-bearing civilians. Mr. Biden said on Oct. 25 that violence by “extremist settlers” was “pouring gasoline on fire.” Secretary of State Antony J. Blinken raised concerns with Israeli leaders during his trip to Tel Aviv on Friday and spoke about the problem with Mahmoud Abbas, the head of the Palestinian Authority, in a meeting in Ramallah on Sunday.

The two discussed “efforts to restore calm and stability in the West Bank, including the need to stop extremist violence against Palestinians and hold those accountable responsible,” the State Department said in a statement.

Both Mr. Biden and Mr. Blinken have stressed in recent days that a Palestinian state existing alongside Israel is the best long-term solution to the decades-old conflict. Settler intimidation of Palestinians, leading to their displacement from strategic areas of the West Bank, makes any prospect of that much more difficult.

State Department officials who oversee weapons sales have discussed potential concerns with Israeli counterparts. “We received assurances from the Israelis that these will only go to I.N.P.-controlled units,” Jessica Lewis, the assistant secretary in the political-military affairs bureau, said in a statement to The Times, referring to the Israeli National Police.

Officials gave no details on what “I.N.P.-controlled units” means, though one said such units do not operate in the West Bank. And they said the agency does not provide specific comments on licensed commercial arms sales.

However, Israel’s minister for national security, Itamar Ben-Gvir, a far-right politician who oversees the police, promised last month to provide guns to settlements.

U.S. officials looking at the orders say this request from Israel differed from previous ones in that Israeli officials made explicit reference to the idea that the rifles might be given to civilian groups. Israel placed at least one other large order of rifles this fall. Given the violence by settler extremists, that also prompted concerns from some Democratic lawmakers, including Senator Chris Van Hollen, Democrat of Maryland. The senator is among the lawmakers pressing the Biden administration for assurances on the current orders.

The United States regularly sells a wide range of weapons to Israel, including the powerful munitions the Israeli military is now using to pummel Gaza. Mr. Biden has asked Congress for an additional $14 billion of military aid for Israel, even as criticism of his position is rising among Democrats.

Israel is buying more than three-quarters of the pending rifles from Colt’s Manufacturing. The orders include M4s and MK18s, and some are ready to be shipped out while others still need to be made.

Asked about the intentions for the rifles, the Israeli Embassy in Washington said, “These questions and others came up and were duly addressed in the process of obtaining the U.S. government’s approval for the licensing and procurement of the firearms.”

Israeli officials and settlers say the mass distribution of weapons to civilians is necessary to prevent a repeat of the Hamas-led attacks last month on southern Israeli towns, when unarmed civilians were forced to defend themselves for hours before security forces arrived. The national security ministry, which oversees the police and is run by Mr. Ben-Gvir, says the newly armed civilians will be organized into what it describes as “security squads” in each city that are trained by the police and placed under the control of the local police force.

“Guns in the right hands save lives! We saw that in the first days of the war,” said Mr. Ben-Gvir, who has criminal convictions for anti-Arab incitement and support for a terrorist group.

“Every place there were guns, the scope of the catastrophe was smaller,” he added in a social media post.

In parallel, the government has made it easier for citizens to obtain gun licenses, a move that Mr. Ben-Gvir has said will allow 400,000 more civilians, or roughly 4 percent of the population, to get a gun.

In late October, Mr. Ben-Gvir posted photographs showing him handing out assault rifles to civilians at a political event. The images alarmed officials in the Biden administration and in Congress.

Critics say the new measures will create civilian militias that could target members of Israel’s Palestinian minority, who form roughly a fifth of Israel’s nine million citizens, as well as the Palestinians living in the West Bank.

“It’s a very dangerous step,” said Rula Daood, a co-director of Standing Together, a grass-roots movement that promotes equality between Jewish and Palestinian citizens of Israel.

“They are using this war to give civilians what they call protection from danger,” Ms. Daood said. “But when they say danger, they mean the Palestinian Arab citizens of Israel. The people receiving these guns are extreme right-wing people who believe there should be first-class and second-class citizens.”

Those fears have heightened because the process has been overseen by Mr. Ben-Gvir, who was barred from serving in the Israeli military as a teenager in the 1990s because of concerns in the security services about his extremist views.

Until 2020, Mr. Ben-Gvir displayed a large photograph in his living room of a Jewish mass murderer who killed 29 Palestinians in a West Bank mosque in 1994.

Mr. Ben-Gvir’s ministry and Mr. Netanyahu’s office did not respond to queries about how many weapons would be provided to Israeli settlers in the West Bank.

In a statement on Oct. 10, Mr. Ben-Gvir’s political party, Jewish Power, said the minister would distribute 10,000 rifles to civilians, some of them in West Bank settlements. In a subsequent statement on Wednesday, Mr. Ben-Gvir’s ministry named 57 towns and cities that it said would be among 1,000 places to receive the guns; none of the 57 were in the West Bank.

In a separate initiative, a settler council in the northern West Bank said on Oct. 24 that it was independently issuing more than 300 guns to civilian settlers.

Just as settler-led violence against Palestinians is at a two-decade high, according to U.N. records, so are deadly Arab attacks against Israelis in the West Bank.

Naomi Kahn, a spokeswoman for Regavim, an advocacy group that lobbies for settler interests, said that “the data regarding Arab violence against Jews — in Judea and Samaria and throughout sovereign Israel — explains why emergency security squads are necessary.”

———

Mark Mazzetti contributed reporting from Washington, and Jonathan Rosen from Rehovot, Israel.

Edward Wong is a diplomatic correspondent who has reported for The Times for more than 24 years from New York, Baghdad, Beijing and Washington. He was on a team of Pulitzer Prize finalists for Iraq War coverage. More about Edward Wong

Patrick Kingsley is the Jerusalem bureau chief, covering Israel and the occupied territories. He has reported from more than 40 countries, written two books and previously covered migration and the Middle East for The Guardian. More about Patrick Kingsley

[kriimhild]

May we get some lore crumbs of your DL au?

So be it, but again, either of these are not clear yet, maybe I'll change my mind about the whole. But here we are now. Read tags about content warnings!

All biomatronics with new owner must be given a 'mark'. This is usually a larger tattoo, either a family crest, band logo, or if someone has their own business, they can even have it tattooed on them. Moon has a large maple leaf on his back, resembling a yakuza tattoo, with a snake at the bottom. Moon was a member/bodyguard of a Canadian mafia family in a previous life.

Sun won't talk about what happened to him in his previous life, but we know that he had a female caretaker and gave him many scars. Sun has a number of scar marks on his back, now barely visible thanks to Mangle, but you can see them if you look closely. When you ask him how he got those scars, he will say, "Empty and filled gun. Which would a bored man choose?"

Foxy and Monty were assigned to a corps when they were sent on an expedition to the Middle East. Their mission was to destroy a chemical agent that the Easterners possessed and wanted to use against the enemy front. After they discovered the weapon had been developed by their own, not by the Easterners, and was banned by law, Foxy and Monty's team were sentenced to prison. The state, of course, did not want any living witnesses who knew of the treaty violation. Foxy and Monty deserted en route, killing scores of soldiers who tried to hold them back. Monty grew his hair and adopted a slightly punk style, and became much more aggressive over the years he worked, but he's recovering. All Foxy wants now is to be able to live out his retirement years in peace and quiet.

[spymeister]

@citizensofcybertron ---------------- Stupid, fraggin', useless aft transport.

He knows that parts of the Decepticon -Autobot Front lacked resources and materials, but he never thought it would get this bad. Cosmotrail had been a decent mech, before an anti-transport shell had taken him down with extreme prejudice. Following the waste not, want not grittiness of survival— the now empty shell had been retrofitted into an actual transport.

Despite his own pragmaticism- it's HARD not to find it creepy.

He'd had a split second to deliberate the unfairness of his functioning before a secondary shell finished the first shell's job. The last half of the transport had been reduced to slag and super-heated metal, and forced the five odd mechs aboard it to jump ship or risk being killed. Shadowstep had been the last off, right before the retrofitted corpse had been destroyed in an explosion—

— and the first mech reduced to scattered parts as another shot took him out.

It'd been his light-and-sound show that had managed to distract the gunners long enough for him to engage his gliding panels- snarling as he weaved and wove his way through the streamers of tracing rounds as they tried to follow.

Behind him, two more of his team fell- their screams cut off in the shrill shriek of the plummet past his audials. One shot, luckier than the rest- is enough to send a round clear through his right shoulder. His secondary arm unfurls from its hiding place- snapping out to hold the first arm in place so that they remain airborne

The second pulls out a modified blaster and returns fire as he spirals closer to the ground.

The landing is far rougher than he likes- but he manages to slam into the surface of the planet beneath him behind a ball of debris. It's enough to shield him from the worst of the firefight long enough for him to get his bearings and do damage control and inventory.

Whipcord has also made it, but like his mission leader, he's likewise wounded. His audial vents flick this way and that, red optics swiveling to Meister as he holds his own wound closed with one hand.

::What's the op, Mes.::

Meister flicks his optics to him, then snarls- leveling his blaster out over their shoulder- and towards an Autobot behind him.

"Survive, Whip. S'what we do."

[melestasflight]

I’m sure you’ve read it but @welcomingdisaster’s fic Lakesong has a terrifying Maglor! If you’re still looking for ideas for your Rec list

-@outofangband

Read it twice and loved it each time!

Lakesong (1.2k) by @welcomingdisaster savage!Maglor, songs of power, brotherly relationships and cocky Orcs, what's not to love?

There are more goodies in this Battles of Beleriand AO3 collection. It's open and always welcoming bookmarks.

[mystalwartheart]

Starter for @amarvelousmencgerie !

Jill Valentine stands alone outside the LAPD Pacific Branch Station looking north.

She sees Santa Monica Pier, a festive and joyous setting despite the recent disrepair, the famed terminus of the iconic Route 66.

Beyond it lie the Santa Monica Mountains, separating The Valley from Westside and the LA Basin. A National Recreation Area designated just about ten years ago, and one of the most visited places in the whole metropolitan area.

But Jill knows there's a darker side to those sunny mountains.

During the late interwar years and into early World War II the German-American Bund, an organization formed to drum up sympathy for 'New Germany' by recruiting Americans of German descent and converting them to National Socialism, operated out of those hills. Nazi spies were pulled directly from its ranks, and rumor has it there's an abandoned bunker still there left uncompleted after the ring was busted by Leon Lewis and the Los Angeles Jewish Community Council.

Jill knows there is. She's seen it with her own eyes.

In the 60s, the Santa Monica Mountains were also home to Spahn Ranch, the home base for the infamous 'Manson Family', and the location where they carried out the Tate-LaBlanca Murders in 1969.

Evil dwells in those hills even to this day, calling out to those foolish enough to heed its Siren's Call.

A girl from Malibu went missing in the Santa Monica Mountains about a year ago. Missing persons would usually be the purview of the police and search and rescue, but after they made no headway and started noticing suspicious activity on the San Fernando Valley side, concerns arose there was more to this disappearance and the case was handed over to the Special Tactics and Rescue Service, Los Angeles-Pacific Branch.

Intel would seem to indicate that now, the Nazis are back, and are using the site to conduct their own spin on the Umbrella Pharmaceuticals eugenics program. The missing girl, a perky blonde athlete and heiress name of Kara Stark who moved to Malibu from New York to take up competitive surfing, is exactly their type.

This makes it the concern of the International Bioterrorism Task Force as well.

Jill just stands on the beach and takes it all in as she waits for her comrades to fly in from Geneva and Raccoon.

After that, it'll be up to her and Captain O'Brian to lead them all into darkness.