#Why Jerusalem

[fandfnews]

Carine Bassili: The 51st Heroine in the #120Heroes Series

By Justine Zwerling Shalom, Salaam, Hello: In case you’re losing hope in Muslims, Christians, Jews, Druze & people of all faiths – in humanity – PLEASE DON’T! سلام שלוםWe decided NOT to wait until after this horrific war, with 58 of our hostages still being held by terrorists for 606 days, before recognizing true leaders & unsung heroes, who stand by us. We are honoring, thanking, and…

[astraystayyh]

i dont think there is a word yet that can describe how absolutely vile israel is. they killed thirsty children by targeting a water tank.

how inhumane do you have to be to support this, to fund this, to excuse this, to ignore this and pretend as if it isn’t going on?

* news was originally shared by Ramy Abdul, chairman of Euromed Human Rights Monitor

it is also not the first time Israel has targeted water tanks . this is how some Palestinians in Gaza get water supplies since the IDF threatens to shoot them.

[sayruq]

[palestinegenocide]

what part of “killing children and kidnapping children and raping women is wrong” do Palestinians not understand?

Tell me again how it's Palestinians committing mass murder against children? Tell me again how it's Palestinians violating women?

[revvlation]

girls when a deceased medieval King who passed away 800 years before they were born

[totallynotcensorship]

TAGS UPDATE(ALL OF THEM):

palestine is first on trending

jerusalem is 5th

social justice is 6th

and palestine news is 7th

meanwhile free palestine, gaza, free gaza, israel, jerusalem, colonialism, social justice, gaza strip, south africa, human rights, middle east, and rafah are trending.

i repeat, almost all the tags are trending

DON'T STOP TALKING ABOUT PALESTINE

[lostinsidelostoutside]

💔💔💔

[sayruq]

[jewish-microwave-laser]

"[Adolf Eichmann] was obviously also no case of insane hatred of Jews, of fanatical anti-Semitism or indoctrination of any kind. He "personally" never had anything whatever against Jews; on the contrary, he had plenty of "private reasons" for not being a Jew hater.[*] To be sure, there were fanatic anti-Semites among his closest friends, for instance Lászlo Endre, State Secretary in Charge of Political (Jewish) Affairs in Hungary, who was hanged in Budapest in 1946; but this, according to Eichmann, was more or less in the spirit of "some of my best friends are anti-Semites."

Hannah Arendt, Eichmann in Jerusalem: A Report on the Banality of Evil, p. 26

*These private reasons included but were not limited to having many Jews in his own family, many of whom he helped flee to other countries. He also had Jewish friends, and even a Jewish mistress in Vienna, and spoke out against other SS officers who he felt "[expressed] more than the routine contempt an 'enlightened' SS man was supposed to show" (p 31)

[whollyjoly]

for some reason i can't explain i know saint peter won't call my name

nothing that lives, lives forever - an immortal soldier!alton more au

(1.1k of snippets from my old guard(ish) au where alton more is old, too old, and has been living and fighting far longer than anyone should. full description/other thoughts at the bottom. tw: blood, violence, mentions of death)

Alton clicked the lighter closed, running a thumb over the silver case. The night was warm, sticky in a way that he never could get used to. He sucked in a breath from the cheap cigarette, letting his head fall back against the rough side of the barracks.

It was quiet. Typically, there would be no end to the commotion coming from the small building, one of many that littered Camp Toccoa. The wall of sound was ever-present, no matter if it was shouting or laughing or snoring. But whatever the cause, there was always noise. 

No matter if it was a blanket of noise he knew well, unchanging except for the language and the scenery. Soldiers are soldiers, and some things are a constant. It could almost be comforting, if it didn’t also mean that the need for soldiers was a constant as well.

However, tonight was a Saturday, and it was one of the few weekends that Sobel had allowed Easy the use of their weekend passes. Almost every man in the company had jumped at the chance to get off base, to travel home if they could and spend time with loved ones. The ones with farther-flung hometowns had spirited off to Atlanta, happy to spend their time drinking and dancing and fucking instead of slogging through another run, three miles up, three miles down.

Normally, Alton would have joined them in their carousing - it was easier to pass the time with the effortless camaraderie built during a training camp than bored and alone. 

But today had been a bad day. The sound of swords and the shift of sand beneath his feet followed him out of his nightmares, the humid summer of Georgia morphing itself into the baking, dry heat of the desert. 

His shouts must have been real, because when a hand came to shake him out of his dream, the first face he saw was not that of a grouchy NCO, but of a blood-caked Saracen, eyes alight with righteous fury. 

Alton didn’t think. He had grabbed the knife from under his pillow, an old thing that had been sharpened more times than he could begin to count, and was on the man in less than a breath, pressing the blade into the side of his neck. The familiar thrum of blood beat against his fingertips, the grit of sand scratched his gums. He knew what he had to do, had done it a thousand times, a thousand thousand times, what was a little more bloodshed spilled across his feet-

Alton had blinked, and came to himself in a rush.

Instead of an unnamed Saracen, the ashen face of Johnny Martin stared up at him, eyes wide behind the knife.

Alton drew back his hand, retreating almost as quick as he had lunged earlier. He mumbled a quick curse and apology as he stepped out of arm’s reach from the man. It wasn’t until Martin’s eyes widened even farther that Alton realized his tongue was slipping out Arabic of all things.

Usually, Alton was better about remembering himself, who he was almost as important as where he was. But for whatever reason, his demons had decided to catch up with him that night.

After a quick smile and some quip about the Krauts in his dreams, he managed to wave an only-slightly-mollified Martin off. The shorter man apparently hadn’t forgotten it though, if his watchful eyes during chow that morning were anything to go by.

Alton was just glad that no one else was awake to see it, at least. That was the last thing he needed.

And so, instead of joining in on a weekend of broads and booze, Alton found himself waving away the invitation by an eager Smokey and bemused Alley. When the horde made their way out of the barracks, fantasizing in bawdy terms about their planned misadventures, he felt like he could breathe easy.

Fucking finally.

~~

Alton took another drag from the cigarette. He watched the smoke curl, up and up until it faded into nothing amongst the darkening sky.

The lighter was a welcome weight in his hand, grounding him to this time, this life.

The design was worn by now, details barely visible after a half century of worrying. It still managed to amaze him, sometimes, what people could do with the smallest of canvases. Alton didn’t feel the same wonder however, wasn’t as mesmerized by the beauty man could create as he once was.

But in the quiet moments, he could still appreciate the time some French craftsman took to transform a hunk of metal into a small token carried around by a dead man.

Luz had spied the lighter one weekend, and laughed at him for using something so old-fashioned. Alton just shrugged, not caring to admit that he was still getting used to having a light at his fingertips. It wasn’t all that long ago when he was still lighting a pipe with a flintlock pistol, and not so long before that when he would carry around a flint and steel.

Time was passing all the more quickly these days, technologies changing and advancing, and everyone was obsessed with needing things to be quicker, cheaper, simpler. Alton scoffed. He could hardly find it in him to care.

He glanced down at the lighter in his hand, shifting it back and forth in a practiced motion and watched as the light skittered across the sides. 

It had shown flowers, once. A veritable garden of carnations, daffodils, and lilies of the valley, with leaves spilling across the front panel onto the back. They represent good fortune, he was told. Good fortune, luck, and hope. 

When the merchant described it to him, eyes ablaze with a passion known only to those with wares to sell, Alton didn’t try to hide the snort that escaped his throat. 

Fortune and Luck had abandoned him long ago, and hadn’t returned since waking up in a battlefield abandoned by all but the dead, sword in his chest and blood in his mouth. 

And what the fuck was Alton supposed to do with hope?

It was the quote on the back that had caught his eye, all those years ago in a street market in Reims. The beveled edges had faded with time, the familiar letters Alton traced were more memory by now than any physical mark. Une vie honorable est une vie éternelle.

An honorable life is an eternal life.

Alton couldn’t help but stare at the message, both then and now. He hated that goddamn word. Immortal. Unending. Eternal. 

They were such flowery words, used by people who craved what they couldn’t have, what they shouldn’t. The romanticized idea of the everlasting, the fountain of youth, the gift of life! Alton was sick of it.

This wasn’t life. He was a fucking dead man walking. And he sure as hell didn’t do anything honorable to deserve it.

months ago, while thinking about the absolute insanity of the almost...cavalier? attitude we see alton more have over the course of the series, an idea hit my brain: what if there was a reason nothing seemed to phase him - not panzers, not being a breath away from a car wreck, not bastogne, not speirs? what if this wasn't his first war? that thought spiraled me into a minor insanity that is this: my immortal soldier!alton more au, loosely inspired by the movie the old guard (2020). the idea is that, once upon a time, there was a soldier in a land many centuries ago. one day, he died in battle. and then, he woke up. and then he died. and then he woke up. over, and over. drawn to countless battles, conflicts, and wars, each one etching itself into the core of his soul. a never-ending cycle...until one sweltering summer, where he found himself at a training camp at the foot of a mountain. anyways. at some point, i plan on writing this as a full story, but that is admittedly a long ways away. however, in celebration of alton more's birthday today, i wanted to post my favorite scene that i've written for this au! it's set sometime at the beginning of the story, in the early days of camp toccoa. mostly, it's just a character study of this version of alton more. hope you enjoyed! and of course - happy birthday alton more!

(song insp.)

taglist: @sweetxvanixlla @coco-bean-1218 @bucky32557038ww2 @georgieluz @samwinchesterslostshoe @xxluckystrike @next-autopsy @ronald-speirs @land-sh @ronsparky @panzershrike-pretz @theredrenard @kyellin

[revvlation]

dear Ridley Scott, hundreds of women of great taste and the same amount of sigma male editors simply beg you to make a full film about Baldwin IV, is it that hard??

[captain-casual]

Twitter

[xx-yu2-xx]

This is the second time recently that I've gotten sick, and all I had to do was get online and I got to talk to a doctor within minutes.

And I can't stop thinking about Gaza.

How it should be just as easy and accessible to them. How it could be. How many people are dying just because of their lack of access to medication, to healthcare.

Ya Allah... I am not more deserving of healthcare than them, I am not more deserving of peace and my house, my family, my shelter, my security than they are.

Please reblog with whatever fundraisers y'all can find, I already am planning on donating to UNRWA, and the GoFundMe of several diabetic Palestinians trying to leave and/or get insulin.

[little-apricot-orchard]

if attempting to kill over 2 million people, half of them children, is justifiable because of the 500 settlers hamas killed on october 7th...

then ask yourself why is palestinian revolution not justifiable when you consider the 500,000 killed in the nakba, 1.5 million displaced in the nakba, additional millions killed and displaced since, 500-700 children in the west bank abducted every year for 75 years, and the literal ethnic cleansing and genocide taking place in palestine since 1940 thanks to the zionist settlers?

if youre going to have one line of logic, then KEEP IT.

[lemedstudent2021]

cant even look up lyrics in peace:

found on lyrics.com

the fact that some people still staunchly advocate for israel is honestly beyond me.

and lyrics? of all things?? why???

[joffyworld]

THE POPE IS AMERICAN FUCK