My opinion on the IDF
(Because, yes, despite me being Pro-Israel, I still have ✨thoughts✨)
People need to stop comparing the I/P conflict to the Holocaust. It is nothing like the Holocaust and Israel is nothing like Germany. And you making that comparison really shows how little you actually know about WW2. Read any history book. Read Anne Frank, or Night. In fact, the closest thing to the Holocaust that is happening in this war is what is happening to the Israeli hostages. They are under way more of those conditions.
No. If we are to ever compare this to any other war, it is more similar to the Vietnam War.
The IDF is very similar to US soldiers in Vietnam.
Look. We can all agree that US was on the right side of Vietnam. They were helping the Southern Vietnamese from the Northern Vietnamese. So when you hear “They were on the right side/good side” you automatically think they were the good guys. Wonderful heroes. And, yes, Vietnam veterans were heroes. But they did some fucked up shit.
For example, according to one veteran, one time when one of his friends had been murdered, out of anger, they all burned an entire town down. US soldiers took out a lot of their frustrations and anger onto the Vietnamese. So while we all agree that they are on the right side and are the good guys, they did some fucked up shit. Stuff that cannot be excused at all.
Another example is in WW2! We all think of the allies as the good guys! They fought against the terrible Nazis and yadada. America was on the good side, they were one of the main sides that took down Germany! So while we acknowledge that America was the right side the be on, we cannot forget the horrible things they did. For example..
They had Japanese concentration camps.
Bet you didn’t know that.
The reason for this was because the amount of violence they saw and experienced was involved with Japan. They were traumatized but it is no excuse to do something like that!
America was the right side, but they weren’t the perfect military.
No military is perfect!!!!!!!!!!!
That includes the IDF.
But here’s the thing, on the side of the ‘good guys’, usually when there’s extremely violent people in the military, there are usually two reasons for this.
They have experienced horrors beyond comprehension while fighting on the battlefield, causing them to become jaded and bitter
Or
2. They were always a violent person and they joined the war to take that out onto others.
It is the tragic reality that every single military has people like this. It is history. The historical ‘good guys’ did horrible things as well.
That brings me back to the Vietnam War.
The soldiers saw so many horrible things that could actually compare very well to what the IDF has seen.
US soldiers had no way to tell if a citizen was Northern Vietnamese or Southern Vietnamese.
Usually by the time they learned, it was too late.
There are stories of US soldiers having a Vietnamese child come up to them, holding something. About to give them a gift! But when they opened their hand, they were holding a grenade.
That is so similar to what Hamas is doing. They use suicide bombers and child soldiers. Things like that will create an idea of they can’t trust anyone. Anyone could be out to hurt them and there’s the idea of almost animalistic fighting for survival. How can you trust when Hamas could literally send a child out to kill you?!
So, really, if you think about it, the US soldiers of the Vietnam War are very similar to the IDF.
That sense of they can’t trust anyone, violence due to the trauma and being surrounded by enemies trying to do the same fucking thing (hell, Hamas has been committing terrorist attacks on Israel for years now). Even what the two sides fight for are somewhat similar!
The US fought to help the Southern Vietnamese and gain freedom from their Northern neighbors. Israel is fighting for freedom from their neighbors who are constantly attacking them and freeing Palestinians from their oppressive government.
It starts out virtuous and those ideas do carry on for the most part, but it also dissolves into animalistic violence and anger because of the shit they have seen.
Also, the way US Vietnam soldiers were treated in America is actually really similar to how Americans treat the IDF.
Nowadays when we meet a Vietnam veteran, we comment on how brave they are and how they’re a hero. Back then, though? Ohhhhh boy. Americans hated them. When soldiers would come home, Americans would yell at them, spit on them, etc. Now, doesn’t that sound familiar?
So, TLDR;
I support Israel and I support the IDF in the same way I support America in WW2 and the Vietnam War. They’re on the right side and have virtuous intent, but they sure as hell aren’t perfect and have done some fucked up shit. Yknow. Like every other military in the world. The sad reality we live in. Not everything is black and white.
159 notes
·
View notes
Kaeya had always been an efficient and hard-working individual (he had to be to support Diluc in the background as his brother rose thru the ranks after all).
He has so much free time because he completes all his work way ahead of schedule. And if he still has enough time, he adds more to the workload in secret.
And once all of that was done and over with, he makes time for everyone. He has to. He feels as if every moment has to be given to someone else.
No one knows how he does it. No one has to know.
Every mission has a dozen strategies in line, and every battle plan is made with efficiency in mind. His perfect record will not be tarnished. He can't risk it (even if it baffles others that he would willingly activate a ruin guard just to prevent a failed mission. Jean disagrees with his methods, but Kaeya can say that the results say otherwise)
He needs to be quick.
Efficient.
Perfect.
And so he comes and goes like the wind.
Kaeya values time because he knew every second counted. He can't just stand there as if he were frozen. Time could run out in an instant.
Kaeya had only been late once his entire life.
He'd rather he never be late ever again.
It took one day of being of being imperfect for everything to fall apart. On that tragic day...had he gotten there on time... then maybe...
.
.
.
" Come on, let's get moving, traveler. We're not frozen in place after all. " Kaeya teasingly says. He stiffles a giggle at the traveler's exhasperated sigh.
"Yeah yeah, we've heard enough of you calling us a slacker. Can't you be a bit more patient?" Paimon whines at him.
Kaeya snorts, but acquiesces, hiding the shaking of his hands at the thought of being idle.
He imagines hearing a clock ticking.
Kaeya knows that that is his own problem. He tries his hardest to relax as he waits for the traveler to finish whatever they're making on the alchemy table because, seriously, it is supposed to be a relaxing day. There's nothing major going on, and his schedule is once again empty as intended. What's the hurry?
Kaeya taps his foot on the ground as he waits. He wishes he could take his own damn advice when he tells others to relax.
159 notes
·
View notes
The Firstborn Son
dp x dc | Batman 👻 tw for: dead body, brief reference to human trafficking
(Part II available now!)
****
Once upon a time, there is a boy who dies forever...mostly.
****
Once upon a time, there is a man who wants to live forever.
He does.
****
Once upon a time, there is a daughter born to an immortal man.
"I need an heir," her father commands.
She gives him one.
****
Once upon a time, there is a King.
(He is a dead boy.)
(Most do not know that.)
"My heir, for a hundred years of your power," the immortal offers; the King accepts.
****
Once upon a time, there was a family of acrobats.
There isn't, not anymore, but the son still loves his mother and father, and gravity cannot steal his wings forever.
He sleeps restlessly, and rarely in his own bed. The allure of flying is too much to resist. At night, when the world is quiet, the acrobat joins the black darkness of an endless sky, and claims it as his own.
His guardian is one with the night.
The petit Robin is bright light and spectacle, no matter how well he hides his colors. He is spotted first.
****
Dick didn't really remember waking up from his nap. Alfred had put him down for a cold; his head hurt, and he was sleepy all the time, so B was out without him and Dick was stuck in a too-big bed in a giant, dark mansion, all alone.
Except. At some point, Dick must have gotten out of bed. Because now he's in the chandelier.
Dick doesn't remember jumping to the chandelier. And jumping to the chandelier is hard work; it's not something he could have done in his sleep. It requires weight, heft; the shirking of gravity. The night is dark around him; there are no street lights outside of their windows to light up the hallway. The darkness makes the grand persian carpet so much farther away than it is in the daytime-- entirely, unfathomably far below him. Pale moonlight flickers across cut shards of crystal. It's Dick's own little bird's nest.
Dick and the chandelier gently sway. He doesn't notice the-- the ghost, the illusion-- for a whole minute. It just looks like moonlight, until it doesn't.
It's a body. A boy's body-- not much older than Dick. Suspended, midair.
His heart drops. But Dick doesn't scream.
For a second, there are two boys midair, silent and still in the morning moonlight.
The body raises its head. Hello, Richard.
Dick doesn't move.
I have a question for you. The body blinks sightless eyes. Does your guardian treat you well?
Dick...doesn't know what that means. He rolls his weight forward, careful, so careful not to tip himself over the edge and send him plummeting.
"...Why are you asking?"
I need something looked after, the body says. Its limbs sway in wind that isn't here. It is very precious to me.
"Oh." Well, B is Batman, sometimes. And when he's not Batman, he's Bruce Wayne, and he is in charge of a lot of people. "Yeah, he's respons- reponsbile- he does a good job. Can I see it?" Dick's interest is piqued.
The body stills. And then-- like a zombie clawing its way out of its grave, it reaches through the rotting skin of its own stomach and removes. Something.
It's a baby.
Dick leans so far forward that he almost does go toppling but he's gripping the silver of the chandelier so that he doesn't, and, look! It's a baby! It's so small and tiny and it's still purple!
"He's so new!" Dick gasps, and releases one arm from its death grip to make a grabby hand. The body only floats close enough that Dick can pet the baby's cheek with a careful finger, can feel the softness of the baby's hair.
He is my charge, the body explains. As such, he is precious to me.
The baby is so small. Dick wants to bounce him, like he's seen mamas and papas do with their little ones. "Can I hold him?"
The baby disappears back into the body. It looks like a maggot burrowing back into the corpse it's eating, and Dick is heartbroken and sick about it. No. Not until I know it's safe.
Dick pouts. Also, he needs to know how to get the baby away from the...body. Babies need a lot of light and warmth. A dead body monster can't give him that.
Your guardian played his part in making the little heir, the body says. This baby was given to me by his grandfather. His mother passed him onto her own father, and her father sold him to me.
"Oh no!" Dick gasps. That is one of the things B has had to explain to Dick, one of hundreds of terrible things that happens to people in Gotham. And it happened to B's baby?
Yes. The body floats sightlessly, thin skin sliding over too-pale eyes. I must know if he is safe before I leave the baby in his care. Will you help me?
Dick...doesn't know what that means. He bites down on the soft presence of his lip. (He tastes blood.) "How?"
The body and the baby inside it are still. Quiet. Dick is two stories off the ground, midair, and any wrong motion could be his-- his-- Dick can't even see the ground. It would hurt so much. He's so high up from the distant hardwood floor and with only ghosts to keep him company.
...It would be very scary.
Dick swallows.
Do you trust that he would come get you, if you were in danger?
Dick knows so. He nods.
Do you trust he would be smart enough to find you? Mean enough to defend you? Care enough to comfort you? the body asks.
Dick nods.
The body floats closer. Closer. Until they are almost touching-- limp limbs entangling on the crystalline arms of the chandelier. It would be very scary, if you said yes, the body admits, as heavily weighted as any corpse that cannot help you hold it. But you would be in no danger. Should your guardian succeed, I will entrust him with this precious thing.
One circus boy's fears for the safety of B's baby. It's an easy choice. Dick is Robin. He is always going to pick helping people over maybe getting hurt.
His pinky touches the cold, dead flesh of the body's.
And then Dick wakes up sweating and heaving in bed.
877 notes
·
View notes