#trooping funnel

[mushroomgay]

Cambridgeshire, UK, November 2023

Trooping funnels (Infundibulicybe geotropa)

These lovely fungi are substantial and delicious, and often found in large numbers, making them an excellent one to look out for in autumn and well into winter.

We found these while out walking with a couple of friends who wanted to get into mushroom hunting, and they were very pleased with the find, including the find of the 'baby' funnels at the base of the larger ones!

Care should be taken to distinguish these fungi from the livid pinkgill (Entoloma sinuatum), a quite severely poisonous (though rarely deadly) mushroom. Luckily, along with some other distinguishing features, trooping funnels have a white spore print, while the livid pinkgill's is, predictably, pink, meaning they can easily be ruled out with certainty.

I made these into a creamy tarragon pasta sauce, delicious.

#fungi #foraging #mushroom hunting #edible fungi #food #vegan #trooping funnel #funnels #funnel mushrooms #Infundibulicybe geotropa #Infundibulicybe #potential confusions

[anenglishwoodcomstuff]

Trooping Funnel #fungus

Infundibulicybe geotropa. Picture taken on November 27. #troopingfunnel #nature #naturephotography #woods #mushroom #fungi #mushrooms

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#2023 #Autumn #Fungi #Fungus #Mushroom #Mushrooms #Nature #November #Trooping Funnel

[republicansaredomesticterrorists]

People supposedly on our side regurgitated Republican propaganda about Hillary and Trump was elected. Many of those same people are now actively regurgitating Republican propaganda targeting Biden.

Some people are completely naive about how foreign policy and diplomacy work. Short of sending in troops Biden can’t force that little prick Netanyahu to stop this madness. At this point Netanyahu is actively trying to sway the election in Trump’s favor. Trump and the Republicans in power means the literal end of Palestine and its people.

Repeating Republican/Hamas/Iranian/ Russian propaganda will only make things worse for the Palestinians, Americans, and the whole world. Biden is a good man doing as much as he can while being hindered by a Republican House of Representatives and an illegitimate SCOTUS. Stop calling Biden the lesser of two evils, he is not. Trump is the only evil person (from an evil party) and he’s already proved it repeatedly.

Trump killed over a million Americans, killed more Middle Easterners than Netanyahu, and is responsible for the Russian aggression in Ukraine. Further it’s almost a certainty that Putin put his proxy Hamas launch the October 7th terrorist attack on Israel. Putin needed a distraction to take the world’s attention off his campaign in Ukraine and wanted to weaken Biden in the hopes of getting a more compliant Trump back. Putin funnels money and arms through his other proxy Iran to Hamas, which is also a proxy of Iran and has also attacked Israel.

Hamas are not champions of the Palestinians, they are an oppressive terrorist organization holding Palestinian as virtual hostages and using them as literal human shields. Palestinians want them gone as much as they want that little shit Netanyahu gone. Hamas leadership resides in luxury estates in Qatar that are paid for by Iran. Most Middle Eastern governments are oppressive autocracies and they only way they can keep their own people from rebelling is to provide them with a common enemy as a distraction and that scapegoat is Israel. Just as states like Iran need Israel as a foil, Netanyahu, and his conservative government, need the Hamas terrorists and hostile regimes like Iran to keep himself in power.

Protest Netanyahu and his supporters as much as you want as they deserve it and more. Donate to feeding and caring for the people of Gaza. I do both. But don’t repeatedly drag Biden through the mud and dissuade people from voting for him. Biden is trying to solve this nightmare while Republicans are giving speeches about how they are going to exterminate Palestinians and confiscate their land.

All these slogans you repeat came from a Republican think tank. Please consider doing something constructive for the Palestinians instead of working to get Trump back in the White House, because if he does we all lose.

#Gaza #Israel #fuck netanyahu #Putin/Iran/Hamas/Republican propaganda slogans #republican assholes #traitor trump #crooked donald #maga morons #NEVER TRUMP

[rherlotshadow]

The Trooping Funnel fungus

#fungus #woods #november #fungi #autumn #autumn aesthetic

[workingclasshistory]

On this day, 2 December 1859, US abolitionist John Brown was executed by the state of Virginia for his leadership of an armed rebellion against slavery. Brown and a small band of Black and white fellow abolitionists attempted to seize the federal arsenal of weapons at Harpers Ferry. The weapons would be used to arm enslaved people and abolitionist whites, and set up a chain of forts across the country which could launch raids on enslavers, helping free large numbers of enslaved people then funnel them north to Canada, meanwhile disrupting the slave economy. On December 2, after a battle with US troops, Brown and his men were defeated. Two of them managed to escape – Osborne Anderson and Albert Hazlett – and the survivors were put on trial for treason, murder and "conspiring with Negroes to produce insurrection". Brown was hanged at 11:15 AM outside the Charles Town jail. On his way to the scaffold he handed a note to one of the guards, which declared: "I John Brown am now quite certain that the crimes of this guilty land: will never be purged away; but with blood." In the wake of the attempted uprising, fearing further such attempts, pro-slavery militias formed across the US South. These would soon fight for the Confederacy in the civil war which would break out less than two years later, during which Union troops would sing: "John Brown's body lies a-mouldering in the grave, but his soul goes marching on." * If you enjoy our posts on social media, make sure to listen to our podcast. Subscribe wherever you get your podcasts or go to our website: https://workingclasshistory.com/podcast/ https://www.facebook.com/workingclasshistory/photos/a.296224173896073/2150736838444788/?type=3

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for trying to keep my people alive?

Okay now I know the title might be a "no duh" kinda deal, but trust me, there's uh... some stuff in there that I've been getting flack for.

So, I'm (120+ M, octopus) the leader of my species, right? Back in my younger years, we lost a war and were all funneled underground by the winners. Ever since then it's been a complete struggle for us. We moved into these underground domes left behind by humans, and we've been mostly living in those since.

But the domes are old and falling apart, so we've been going through a BIT of an energy crisis for the last century. And those greedy bastards that sent us down here in the first place took pretty much every renewable source of energy they could, INCLUDING this MASSIVE electricity-producing fish that frankly, they don't even need!

So I sent some of my troops to go and grab said massive fish so I could try and fix it. But then an old... acquaintance(120+ M, squid) of mine got some little inksquirt(teenager I think? squid) to grab all the energy sources we'd gathered so their stupid city didn't run out of power or whatever. They would've been fine though, they got enough power as is!

AITA? I'm pretty damn sure I'm in the right here, but I dunno.

#aita #am i the asshole #unreality

[whiskygoldwings]

The Ballad of The Guard

Chapter One

Fox is proud when he is issued his posting. The Coruscant guard was an honour post. They were the ones who would come into closest contact with the nat-borns, the senators and those who could keep funnelling the Kaminoans money; only the very best would be allowed to get that close. The longnecks wanted the image they presented to be perfection, to persuade the good people of the Senate that their investment was well-placed. To have gotten the Marshall Commander post was recognition of his skills, his hard work and dedication. He was so, bloody, proud.

He was pleased as well to see Cody and the others get posted in sought-after positions as well. Their batch had persisted in excellence, thrown themselves into rising to the top of the scoreboards. It wasn’t entirely to promote themselves; being in a position of power meant they had the ability to cover those beneath them, defend those they had taken under their wing. Cody had fought tooth and nail to protect Rex, defective only in the colour of his hair, and Wolffe had wrangled Boost and Sinker into his employ as well. They stood proud as the trainers walked infront of them, calling out their battalions.

They managed only brief grasps of hands, snatches of foreheads pressed together in the chaos of departure. The Kaminoans and the trainers, headed by the Togrutan Jedi with peace in her eyes, directed them to individual Venators, ordering them to get settled into their ships and prepare to meet their Jedi.

Fox remained behind, hands held precisely at attention, feet exactly shoulder-width apart, and waited for his orders.

Alpha-17 approached him as the room cleared out, brothers going to collect their battalions and ready themselves for the battles ahead, and Fox found himself grinning as the alpha slammed his forehead into Fox’s own. “Well done, Foxling,” 17 whispered, teeth bared in a sharp grin, before pulling away. “You will be joining CC-2224 on his ship, along with the rest of those selected for the Guard. As you will be stationed on planet, there is no Venator set aside specifically for the Guard,” his fingers tap on Fox’s pauldron, a quick message of “good work” before he pushes roughly at Fox’s shoulder. “Go and collect your battalion CC-1010, report to hanger 17”. And Fox barely restrains the snort at Alpha 17’s smug face, knowing full well why they were assigned that dock, before saluting and marching smartly away.

His troops are waiting, the last of the battalions in Hanger 17 not already making their way to a ship. They salute crisply as he approaches, not a finger out of place, and Fox feels the pride swell in him. His command team are stood at the front, their numbers printed on their left breast, and Fox is pleased to see Thorn amongst them. He’s less aware of the others, but Thorn’s squad had worked closely with his own, and they had become friends over their training. He is not surprised to see him there, Thorn was brilliant, after all, but it is comforting to know he has a friend beside him.

He kicks his boot down to parade stop, standing infront of them all, and snaps his right hand into a smart salute. “Oya to the Corsucant Guard” he calls, pleased by the chorus of “Oyas!” that respond, before crisply moving into parade rest. The troops follow him, precise and beautiful, and he feels almost dizzy with the moment. “We travel with the 7th Sky to Coruscant. Collect your kit and assist the 7th Sky with prepping for departure. Dismissed!” The battallion salutes again, before dressing down and rushing off. His command squad remain with him, relaxing in posture now they have permission, and Thorn pulls off his helmet, exposing his blonde hair and grinning at Fox.

“Oya Marshall Commander Fox,” Thorn says cheerfully, walking over to knock his forehead into Fox’s the moment he removes his own helmet. “Never doubted you for a second!”

Fox laughs, and presses a hand to the back of Thorns’ head to keep their foreheads together a moment longer. “Never doubted you either,” he grins, before letting go and turning to greet the rest of his command team. They’ve removed their helmets as well, and all stand proud and pleased.

“CC-5869, Stone, sir,” the first says, leaning forward to press his forehead briefly against Fox’s own.

“CT-3009, Sergeant Hound, sir” was the next, with a cheeky smirk. “I head the Massif section.”

Fox blinked, “We have a Massif section?”

Hound laughed, a deep growl of a thing, and Fox wondered briefly just how much time he spent with the animals. “Specially selected and trained sir. We’re the only ones in the entire GAR, purpose made for Guard duty. I’ve heard of you, not so surprised you haven’t heard of us though.” He shrugs, clearly not bothered by the lack of awareness.

“How many have we got?”

“20 Massifs, along with 20 handlers. We’re also trained to breed them and raise the pups,” Hound grins. “The Kaminoans phrased it as ‘Asset propogation’. We like to think of it as Morale boosting.”

The group chuckle, then the final trooper steps forwards. “I’m your CMO sir, CC-7782, Bones.” Fox recognises him, has spoken to him a few times. The command class medics were assigned to the command class troopers in the medbay, so they’ve had a couple of run ins. Bones is already quirking an eyebrow at him, and Fox gives him a wry grin back. “I’m sure we’ll be working closely together in the future.”

Thorn chokes on a laugh while Hound bellows one of his own. Bones flashes him a sharp grin, and Fox can’t quite help ducking his head sheepishly. “I’ll endeavour to do my best to not keep you too busy, Bones.”

Bones rolls his eyes at him openly, before reaching an arm out which Fox clasps. “I’ll hold you to that sir.”

“Have you each been introduced to your teams?” Fox asks them.

Hound shrugs. “We’ve all trained together since we were selected sir, so I know all mine already. They’ll keep watch over the Massifs while on route, probably bunk with them where ever we set them up.”

Thorn steps in after him. “I’ve been introduced to my sergeants and support team. They’ve prepared datapads with details of every trooper and their specialties, scores etc. I’ve tasked Sergeant Finder with organising them for us to review while one route.”

Fox nods at him. “Good idea Thorn, thank you.”

“The medic team were partially selected by me,” Bones tells him, a hint of pride in his voice. “The Coruscant Guard is getting some excellent medics, including a couple of surgical specialists and physiotherapy class. So long as no one dodges the Medhall we’ll keep the Guard in top shape.��� He throws a cheeky grin at Fox, who groans as Thorn snickers next to him.

“I’m really not that bad you know!” Fox protests.

“Tell that to the scar on your left calf,” Bones says smartly, and Fox flushes.

———

It takes a few hours to get them all proeprly situated on the Venator. There’s spare barracks on every ship, but even then the Guard are all crammed together in four of them while the battallion assigned to this ship are crammed in the others. Cody and he had worked together with their command teams to ensure everyone had enough space to at least have a sleeping spot of their own, but it’ll be a tight squeeze until they get there. They’ve worked out schedules for different teams to get the mess halls and exercise rooms, but the Guard are going to be cooling their heels for a few rotations while the 7th Sky settle in to the running of their ship.

Hound’s Massif squad are actually one of the better situated. They’ve carved out room in one of the cargo holds amongst crates of spare plastoid armour pieces and weapons parts, and dragged cots in for all the troopers to sleep with their charges. They’ve quickly made themselves popular with both battallions, walking round with the Massifs and letting troopers assist in their training and downtime. Hound is an absolute force-send in himself, easy-going and calm, mediating squabbles between the troopers handily. It’s clear early on why he was picked to work with the Massifs; he’s patient and gentle in a firm-handed manner, and Fox is already wondering if he can promote him past sergeant without removing him from the Massif section.

Thorn and Stone prove to be excellent commanders as well. They’re swift and efficient, getting things organised and pre-empting his requests with ease. They’d gathered information on all the troopers of the Guard, and during their trip to Coruscant to collect Cody’s Jedi and situate the Guard, spend time with Fox going through everyone’s files, working out teams and squads ahead of time based on skillsets and aptitudes. They all take time to talk with the troopers, making themselves available at various meal times. Fox delights in learning more about his troopers, learning names and quirks and developing relationships with the people he is going to be working with in the future.

He also spends time with Cody, who’s quietly excited for his first meeting with his Jedi. They had both been part of the battle on Geonosis, Cody having taken a nasty headwound that left him with a scrolling scar down the left side of his face. It had been utter chaos, troopers thrown together quickly, no clear squads, just whoever was easily and readily available when the Jedi Yoda had flown in and called for a rescue team.

They’d lost a lot of troopers in that battle. He’d pulled together his own squad out of the men, managed to pull the majority of them through. Two had fallen early on, rattled by the sheer intensity and desperation of a real fight. The first who fell had sent a ripple of horror through the troops he’d amassed, but the second had solidified something within them. They’d rallied grimly, fallen into the patterns and mindsets their training had instilled. He’d led them in sweeping over the arena, creating a perimeter around one of the Jedi, a Nautolan man who’d fought with a wicked grin on his face and quickly flowed into their attack patterns to deflect blaster fire away from them.

That was the one thing that disappointed Fox about his posting. They wouldn’t get their own Jedi. Working with General Fisto had felt like a thing of beauty. He’d admit to a quiet envy at the thought of his brethren getting to fight alongside them in the future. He’d checked the records to see which commander had been assigned to General Fisto and commed Monnk to let him know he was a lucky son of bitch.

Monnk had laughingly told him not to talk about his tube like that, before getting him to patch Cody in and showing them all the specialist equipment they were getting to be able to focus on underwater missions.

Theirs was not the only ship heading to Coruscant in order to pick up their Jedi Generals. The majority, in fact, were heading that way, while a few others headed to other systems to pick up Jedi who’d been deployed further afield. It meant hyperspace jumps were carefully co-ordinated between the fleets, usually getting a short time between jumps to exchange comms and catch up on gossip.

The most exciting of which, was when a battalion finally met up with their Jedi.

The first had been Commander Gree, who’d picked up General Luminara and Commander Offee from Bothawui. Everyone had been aware of when Commander Gree was going to rendevous with them, and they came out of hyperspace in a massive huddle in the first Guard barracks, Fox at the center with his commanders to share any information they received from Gree. The data dump seemed to load more slowly than normal, and the barracks was surprisingly quiet, the low sound of rustling and occasional excited whispers being the only real sound.

Gree’s first message is a simple “They’re kriffing cool!” which had sent the entire barracks into peels of laughter, and Fox sighed as he realised there were several more messages in the Command feed, all of which lasted a few seconds at most, and were clearly, more of the same. Thorn was sniggering beside him, scrolling through the text feed which was flooded with paragraphs of effusive updates on just what amazing things the Jedi had done today (which, considering Gree was still in transit, appeared to mostly be just existing...). He played some more of the voice messages for everyone to hear, which were indeed, variations of the same, before finding a longer one. In it, Gree detailed a session where the Jedi master and her padawan had conducted a training match with their lightsabers in one of the dojos in the barracks areas. There was a video attached, and Fox adjusted the comm to allow it to be projected high above for everyone to see.

There was silence as everyone watched in awe as the two Jedi fought. They moved like water, like rivers flowing together and clashing before racing apart, only to flow back together and around each other. People gasped and eyes glimmered in the light of the holo, and Fox found himself watching his brothers more than the spectacle. So many happy, excited faces, all eager for the future they’d been promised during the gruelling years on Kamino.

He already knew he’d do anything for them.

A shoulder pressed against his, and he turned to see Thorn looking out at the others as well, a soft expression on his face. He glanced at Fox, a smile curling his lips, and leant further over to whisper to him. “Guess this is what the Alphas felt huh?”

Fox grinned back, the feeling of Alpha’s forehead pressed against him own warm in his chest. “Guess so,” he murmured, and tilted his head to lean against Thorns.

——

Their arrival on Coruscant is met with much celebration and joy. The public are packed in around the Senate building, streamers and confetti flooding the air. They march in perfect formation, Cody’s battalion remaining on the ship while the Guard march through the streets and array themselves in neat, tight lines in front of the Chancellor on his podium. Fox feels his chin tilt up, his shoulders roll back; pride in every line of his body as the Chancellor smiles upon them, warm and welcoming. They form an impressive sight, all these gleaming suits of white armour, shining in the sun of Coruscant, buffed and polished to perfection. Fox kicks his heel and stamps to a stop, hand snapping up to salute at the senators stood on the steps above them.

“Presenting the Corsucant Guard sir!” he bellows, heart surging at the crescendo of “OYA!” behind him. He snaps his hand down to his side, and hears the click of a thousand plastoid pauldrons moving in unison with him. His Guard are stunning, and the vaguely awed faces of the senators before him pleases him.

The citizens of Coruscant roar and hollar in response, and the Chancellor gives them a moment to call out their appreciation, before raising his arms to bring silence. Fox’s brethren stand regulation still, and the Chancellor smiles again.

“And what a shining example of our GAR the Guard are!” The Chancellor begins, and Fox swears he couldn’t get any more proud, yet he does. “The citizens of Coruscant can sleep happily in their beds tonight, knowing that the finest soldiers of the GAR stand watch over them.” The crowd cheers again, and the Chancellor watches benevolently over them before raising a hand again. “You and your men show us hope, dear Commander. For with an army like this, how could the Republic ever lose!” The roar of the crowd is loudest at this, and the Chancellor moves away from the podium to approach Fox. He almost startles, not expecting the man to reach out a hand, but catches himself in time to clasp his forearm in greeting. The Chancellor grins at him, before turning them to where a group stand nearby, cameras at the ready. Fox is glad for his helmet, as they frantically take photos and shout indiscernable questions over each other. The Chancellor reaches up with his other hand to pat his shoulder and laughs kindly. “You get used to it my dear Commander. Now, shall we get you settled in to your new home?”

Fox isn’t really sure he’s had a home before. Kamino was always meant to be temporary, and the longnecks had done their very best to make sure the clones never became comfortable. He nods at the Chancellor, “Yes sir,” before letting go of the man’s arm and turning smartly to his men.

“Inspector Thwaites!” The Chancellor calls over to a man in Corsec uniform, crisp and neatly pressed, who salutes and strides over. “Could you kindly show our Guard to their barracks and assist them in getting set up?”

“Sir!” Inspector Thwaites barks, then turns to Fox. “Commander, if you and your men could follow me please?”

Fox nods and clicks his heels to attention again, knowing his troops are watching for his sign already. “Corsucant Guard!” He chants, “In close order, march!”

He doesn’t need to see them to know how impressive they look, the gasps and cheers tell him as he marches smartly after the Inspector.

——

The Corsec inspector relaxes the moment they’re out of sight. He’s more brusque with Fox now, more casual, yet stand off-ish. Fox isn’t terribly surprised; he’d discussed with Thorn and Stone how they were stepping in on CorSec’s territory, and it’d more than likely take some negotiations before they were comfortable with each others company. He does show them to the Guard complex, a building sunk below the surface of Coruscant, clearly not intended for it’s new use, and hastily emptied for them. It’s within sight of the Senate building, and Inspector Thwaites advises them is connected to the Senate itself via a series of tunnels to allow for ease of access for the Guard.

He’s a little dismayed at the tight corridors, small offices and rooms within the premises, but resolves himself to it. It’s not like they’d had much space on Kamino after all. He’d gotten a little spoiled by the sheer expanse of the Venator in the few rotations they’d spent within it. They’ll manage, and figure out any issues as they go. He’s a little surprised the Jedi hadn’t organised for a location for the Guard in advance, since they knew they would be stationed here, but perhaps there simply wasn’t the space. Coruscant is clearly an absolute rat warren after all, and he suspects there’ll be more than a few of his people frantically memorising plans of the different sectors over the next few days.

The Inspector leads them to a large canteen area, Thorn, Stone, Hound and Bones walking in with them. Thwaites advises Fox that the Chancellor would be looking to meet with him tomorrow in the Commander office in the Senate building, and that a Senate guard would arrive at 06.30 to lead him there. The man’s face is taut; he’s clearly not interested in speaking to them much further, and Fox thanks him for his time, telling him they’ve got it from there. Thwaites doesn’t hang around for any questions, and quickly makes his exit. Fox turns to his command team, pulling off his helmet and grinning at them as they follow his lead.

“It’s going to be a bit cramped in here,” Thorn says, voice wry.

Fox shrugs. “At least it’s not all white” and laughs along with his team.

——

They quickly get organised and settled in. Hound claims several of the rooms on the surface, citing the need for the Massifs to be able to get outside easily, which Fox is happy to agree to. They quickly find that they will have to have several people bunking in the same room to fit everyone in, including the commanders, and Fox settles on a room near to the tunnel closest to the Senate building for their bunks. He imagines they’ll need to be able get there quickly at times, and the centralised nature of it means any insurgents will have trouble getting to the command team without tripping alarms before they get.

On which note, Fox had been alarmed to discover there was no real security system in place in the building to speak of. He’d immediately ordered a splicing and engineering team together to set up cameras and early warning systems, which they leapt to eagerly. Hound and his team get to take the massifs out for their first real operation, walking the beasts through the building to check for anything that shouldn’t be there. Other than a couple of local rodents that Hound assures him Grizzer and the others thoroughly enjoyed, they thankfully find nothing.

They set up an airlock system at the surface entrance to the building, making up the front room as a reception area for any public that may need to speak to them. Stone takes charge of getting the public-facing aspects set up, and Fox is pleased to see that no one complains about having to clean, or paint, or fix up furniture left behind by the previus occupants. There’s a general feeling of excitement at setting up their new home and getting it ready for them to settle in properly.

It’s not finished that first day, but Fox goes to sleep that night in the company of his command team, pleasantly worn out from the events of the day.

——

The next morning arrives with Fox standing with his helmet clipped to his belt, waiting at the front entrance for the Senate guard to show him to the Chancellor. Hound is already out with the rest of the Massif squad, exercising the beasts in the small plot of land afforded to them on the surface for this purpose. Thorn and Stone are inside the building, directing the continuing efforts to get the building set up properly for them. He takes a deep breath, smiles wryly at the taste of pollution in the air, but glad of the sun on his face. Sure beats the constant rain of Kamino.

A man in the Senate Guard garb approaches, and Fox stands to attention. The man waves away his salute impatiently. “Commander Fox?”

“Yessir”

“Follow me.”

The guard turns and walks towards the Senate building. Fox brushes off the brusqueness of the man’s greeting and follows after him.

The guard doesn’t talk to him beyond pointing out different rooms he needs to know about. He indicates at the entrance where Fox needs to press his vambrace to the wall, so the security system can read his identity chip before he can gain access. Fox wishes he’d put his helmet on. The Senate building is beautiful inside, all rich golds and reds and lush carpetting where the floor isn’t polished wood. He’d like to have had the opportunity to look around wonderingly, but senses the guard wouldn’t be willing to slow down for him to have a proper look. Instead, he maintains a calm expression, following after the man and promising himself he’d get more opportunities to look around in the future.

The Senate guard shows him where the Chancellors office is, as well as showing him the room itself and the command codes for entry. He makes it clear that Fox is the only clone allowed to know these (and Fox is a little disappointed to hear the coldness that accompanies the word. He’d been hopeful not to hear that outside of the trainers and longnecks on Kamino), before finally showing him to the Coruscant Guard office, a level below the Chancellors. He instructs Fox to wait there until the Chancellor arrives, before leaving without another word.

Fox sighs. Guess he couldn’t expect all natborns to treat them with respect.

He quickly looks around the office, sweeping for any listening devices and happy to find none. There’s a few desks in the room, and datapads on each of them. Fox selects a desk near one of the windows, having checked the glass was heavily fortified. He allows himself a little bit of selfishness here and takes the desk with the best view; there has to be some perks to being the Marshall Commander after all. He sets his helmet down on the desk, and opens up the datapad, pleased to find it pre-loaded with maps of the site as well as several data packets on schedules and details of the Senate that he immediately begins reading through.

The sun has risen high in the sky by the time the Chancellor knocks on the door, and Fox has finished several data packets and eaten one of the ration bars in his pouches. He stands as the Chancellor enters, a Senate Guard behind him, while Fox can see another stood out in the corridor facing away. The Chancellor smiles at him and waves a hand in his direction.

“Please don’t feel the need to stand, Commander! Sit, sit! I thought I’d meet up with you and see how you’re settling in.”

“Very well, thank you sir,” Fox says, gesturing at the chair infront of his desk and waiting for the Chancellor to be seated before sitting down himself. “My troops have already set up a reception area and we’re working towards setting up all of the bunk rooms and internal areas currently.”

“Excellent! I do apologise for the state of the building when you arrived. We relocated Corsec in a bit of a hurry to make sure the Guard had room to get set up in. It sounds like you’re making the most of it though?”

Fox nods. “No apologies necessary sir, we’re happy to be here and to serve the Republic.”

“A most admirable attitude my dear Commander,” the Chancellor beams, clasping his hands in front of him. “I am sure the Guard will serve the Republic excellently in the time to come. Now, I wish to discuss the remit of the Guard if you wouldn’t mind?”

Fox frowns slightly. “Is it not as defined in the data packets you provided sir?”

The Chancellor grimaces. “It was, but I have been in discussion with CorSec over the last few days. They have expressed that the strain on their resources is significant currently, and have asked if the Guard would be able to assist in the policing of Coruscant. I believe it would serve the GAR well to have a public presence in more than just the Senate itself, so I would like to formally request that the Coruscant Guard liaise with CorSec and assist with the more local policing requirement as well if possible Commander?”

He’s not really sure why the Chancellor is asking. A request from him is as good as an order. “Of course sir, I am sure we could work out an agreement with CorSec to assist.”

“Fantastic my dear Commander!” The Chancellor smiles again, a wide, pleased thing, and leans forward conspiratorially. “The Kaminoans promised me they were sending their very best to Coruscant and I am most pleased to say that I can see they have not let the Republic down. You will find the CorSec Chief Constable comm details in your datapad and I have arranged a meeting between your command team and theirs for tomorrow at 10.00 if that is acceptable?”

Fox nods. “Yessir.”

The Chancellor claps his hands once, then stands, the Guard who had waited at the door opening it ready. “Most excellent my dear commander, I look forward to getting reports of your hard work in the days to come! I will leave you to it now. Would it be too much to expect patrols of the Senate building to begin in the morning?”

Fox blinks, but nods. “I’m sure we can arrange something by then Sir.” He hadn’t actually realised they would need to patrol the Senate building itself. It certainly wasn’t detailed in the tasking briefing. He’d thought that fell to the Senate Guard. It won’t be particularly difficult to sort something out though, and he decides he’ll discuss it with Thorn when he gets back.

“Wonderful! Then, I shall take my leave. Good luck and welcome to the Coruscant Commander!”

Fox salutes crisply with a “Sir!”, and maintains it until the Chancellor walks out the room.

The Senate guard does not close the door behind them.

——

“Senate patrols?” Thorn frowns.

Fox nods. “The Chancellor asked that we start them tomorrow morning. Is it something we can figure out by then?”

Thorn tilts his head thoughtfully. “Well we weren’t supposed to start anything until the day after, to give us a bit of time to get set up. But I’m sure we can get together a rota for tomorrow in the first and get something more permanent in place after that.”

Fox grins and claps him on the shoulder. “I didn’t doubt you for a second Thorn. I’m happy to take one of the shifts, makes sense to get to know the layout of the place a bit better. We’ve also got a meeting with the head of CorSec tomorrow at 10.00 if you could arrange my shift around that please.”

“Makes sense to get a working relationship in place,” Thorn nods, then frowns again when Fox shakes his head. “Fox?”

“Apparently CorSec are struggling, they’re asking if we could assist them in some areas.”

“Do we know what?”

“No, the Chancellor only said they needed some help in the policing of Coruscant, and it’d be a good opportunity for the public to see the GAR out and about.” Fox shrugs. “It makes sense in a way. An army settling on the planet must be pretty unnerving for a lot of people. Interacting with the citizens might help ease any tensions.”

Thorn’s still frowning, and Fox can understand why. “What about our own remit?”

“We haven’t been given that many taskings so far. Mainly security at the spaceports. It’ll give us something to keep people busy at least. No clone likes sitting around for too long.”

Thorn nods thoughtfully. “Fair point. I’ll comm Stone and we can get a plan sorted for tomorrow in the first. Late shift suit you in that case? I’ll probably give myself and Stone a shift as well.”

Fox smiles. “Sounds good to me Thorn, thank you.”

——

There’s messages in the command chat when Fox reviews his datapads that evening. Most fleets have their Jedi generals now, and several of the commanders are gushing about their Jedi performing inhuman feats of wonder. Fox can admit to himself he’s a little bit jealous. He relays his meeting with the chancellor, which the others are impressed with, asking what the man’s like. They make pleased comments when Fox says he seems kind and warm, but the conversation quickly shifts away to the far more exciting tales of force tricks and lightsaber training the others have to talk about.

Wolffe messages him privately, asking about how they’re settling in and whether Fox has gotten to try any natborn food yet. Fox laughingly tells him that he’s already got shifts lined up and meetings with various officials and honestly hadn’t even had the chance to consider exploring the city itself yet. Wolffe is gruffly disappointed on his behalf, and Fox asks him about his own Jedi instead.

He can feel the wary intrigue in Wolffe’s description of the Kel Dor Jedi, his comments about how General Koon had already insisted they simply call him “Plo”, and Wolffe had horrifiedly told him he couldn’t possibly disrespect him like that. Fox laughs when Wolffe just replies “No” to his suggestion he should give it a try. They talk a little bit longer, before Wolffe advises they’re due for a hyperspace jump shortly so he’ll be out of touch for a while. Fox sends him off with a good luck, and a promise to describe in lengthy and full detail any natborn food he gets the opportunity to try in the meantime.

——

They walk out of the meeting with the CorSec officials frustrated and confused. They’re professional, and don’t discuss it until they get back to the office, careful to give polite nods and greetings to anyone they pass. The moment the door closes behind them, Thorn pulls off his helmet. “What the hell was that?”

Fox pulls of his own helmet and runs a hand over his hair, frowning in confusion. “I’m honestly not entirely sure.”

Stone snorts. “Felt an awful lot like they were trying to get us to takeover the majority of their job quite frankly.”

Thorn nods, leaning his hip against his desk and pointing at Stone. “Exactly! I thought we’d maybe be asked to do some patrols, maybe some back up for dangerous operations. Not take on cases and investigations! We’re not exactly trained for that.”

Fox hums and goes to sit behind his own desk, grabbing a few datapads he remembers relate to their remit agreement. “No, we’re not. And they were weirdly insistent that the Chancellor would sign off on any requests they make of us. Surely he wouldn’t want us to take on roles we’re not designed for? It doesn’t make much sense.”

Stone shrugs. “Perhaps they didn’t tell him how much they were going to request of us?”

“Maybe,” Thorn says, but his expression is sceptical. “But he’s also got us doing the Senate patrols which we weren’t expecting either.”

“I’ll speak with the Chancellor,” Fox decides, standing up and grabbing his helmet. “It doesn’t make much sense for us to take over casework from CorSec, we’re not actually a police force.” Stone and Thorn glance at each other. Thorn’s clearly not convinced, while Stone appears calm and unflappable, in the way Fox is beginning to realise he just is. “In the meantime, we can certainly draw up some plans for patrol shifts and patterns at the least. Could I leave that with you two please?”

Thorn and Stone nod, already moving off to their own desks as Fox leaves the office, pulling his helmet back on and holding the datapads with their taskings against his hip.

The secretary at the desk outside the Chancellor’s office politely gives her name as “Enora”, before advising him that the Chancellor is currently in a meeting, but he is welcome to wait and she will see if the Chancellor can squeeze him in afterwards. Fox has a couple of hours before his late shift begins, and she assures him the meeting should only last a few minutes more, so he takes a seat on one of the chairs in the tasteful waiting area, and reviews the Coruscant guard briefing in the meantime. The briefing is very clear that they are there as a standing army, there in case the Separatist forces ever manage to make their way to Coruscant, and to deal with military affairs such as disciplinary matters and the movement of forces on and off planet. There’s a clause at the very end that advises the Chancellor may direct them in other tasks as necessary, and Fox gets the sinking feeling that this phrase is about to come back to bite them.

It’s not long before several people filter out of the Chancellor’s office, all talking happily amongst themselves, not appearing to notice the trooper stood at attention in the waiting area. They move off in clumps, a pleased air about them, as the secretary briefly pops into the office, before coming out and waving Fox in.

“Ah, my dear Commander! How is the Guard settling in, my boy?”

Fox marches to the desk and snaps a smart salute. “Sir! All troops are settled in and the base is nearly fully fortified. Sync has advised the security system will be complete in the next rotation.”

“Marvellous Commander, so efficiently done!” the Chancellor beams at him, and Fox feels pride in his siblings. “I am most pleased to hear the Guard are settling in so well! Now, is there something I can help you with my boy?”

Fox settles into parade rest, hands clasped around the datapads in the small of his back. “Sir, I wanted to confirm with yourself that you have been briefed on exactly what CorSec would like us to assist them with?”

The Chancellor blinks at him. “Whatever do you mean, Commander?”

“They have requested we assist with casefiles and investigations sir. While we can assist with these if required, we are not trained in policing investigations and filework. It seemed more prudent to offer our services in regards to patrols and back up if required sir.”

The Chancellor leans back in his chair, hands coming up to twist together under his chin. “I’m sure your men would be quite capable of assisting with whatever is requested of them Commander, is that not so?”

Fox is glad he has his helmet on, it covers the small expression of disappointment he wasn’t quite able to keep from his face. He’d truly thought CorSec were overreaching their request to the Chancellor, not that the Chancellor might have already agreed this course of action. He takes a second to think, then responds. “The troops will absolutely be capable of anything put to them sir, but wouldn’t it make more sense to use us in the areas we have been trained in, thus freeing up CorSec to focus on what they have been trained to do?”

The Chancellor’s eyes bore into his, even through the visor, and Fox finds himself wanting to shift nervously. The kind, warm expression on his face has chilled, something unyielding hardening the lines between his eyes now. “Commander, I am disappointed. I expected you to jump on this opportunity to prove the resourcefulness and ingenuity of your men. Are you saying you do not feel they are able to take on this task?”

There’s a trickle of sweat at the base of Fox’s neck, and the sound of a Kaminoan blandly labelling a clone defective in his ear. “No sir,” he answers, realising this is not a discussion, and he does not have an option here. “The Guard will rise to the challenge and exceed it sir.”

“Good! Good!” The Chancellor cries, clapping his hands once and beaming at Fox. The hostile chill in the air disappears at all once, and Fox finds himself struggling not to gasp. “I knew you wouldn’t disappoint me Commander! A moment of nervousness in your new role I imagine? Not to worry about it, being the Marshall Commander of the Coruscant guard is an important position after all!”

Fox nods, something curdling in his stomach. He’s unsettled, far more than he should be. He struggles to find his center again, in a way he’s never struggled before, and it takes a moment to drag his thoughts back together again. “Thank you for your understanding sir,” he manages to drag out, voice strangely hoarse. “May I ask that we have a week before we take on the CorSec duties.” He hastens to explain at the Chancellor’s raised eyebrow. “Only to allow the troopers selected for it to have time to study what’s required for the investigations and casework sir. I want them to be able to take over efficiently and competently sir.”

The Chancellor hums slightly, and Fox holds his breath for a second, before the man nods. “That seems most reasonable my dear Commander. I will advise CorSec to have the work ready for handover by Taungsday next week.”

Fox inclines his head gratefully. “Thank you sir, we will not let you down.”

“I’m sure you won’t, my dear boy,” The Chancellor smiles at him benevolently. “Now, if there’s nothing else, I have another meeting in 10 minutes, but it has been a most productive and enlightening discussion Commander.”

Fox salutes with a “Sir!” and turns smartly on his heel to leave.

——

Thorn’s less than impressed, and is not shy about making it clear. “Does he not get that we’re soldiers? Not fucking police officers!”

Fox pinches the bridge of his nose, and Stone snorts beside him. Fox glares over at him and Stone shrugs. “He’s not wrong Fox.” Fox rolls his eyes as Stone smiles at him.

“Unfortunately, we’re going to have to figure out how to be. The Chancellor was very clear. It’ll be one of our duties from now on. Thorn, get together a plan of who may be best suited in the first and start them on whatever modules we can find on investigations and casework. Stone, liaise with CorSec and see if we can get a heads up on what cases they’re going to want us to take over. I’ll contact Kamino and see if there’s any flash-training they can offer us.”

Both Commanders salute smartly, before moving to their own desks. Fox turns to the last desk, fighting not to glare at Hound, who’s currently chuckling away while leaning back in his chair. “Something to add Hound?”

“Nah, just glad I only have to deal with being shat on by Massifs.”

Fox groans, as Thorn barks a laugh and Stone covers his smirk with his hand.

——

Alpha-17 is indignant on his behalf when he makes the request, but grudgingly admits there’s not much he can do when the Chancellor himself has dictated the work. It’s not like they can disobey, and Fox has already made his argument and been shot down. 17 agrees to speak to the Kaminoans and see if there’s any flash-training that can be sent their way urgently, and Fox is reassured by the man’s rolled eyes and comments that they’ll probably end up teaching CorSec a thing or two by the time they’re done.

Thorn has three squads put together to start the training, and has them working on it by the end of the day. He’s adjusted rotas for the various patrols and front door duties as well, making it so those squads can focus on getting up to speed as quickly as possible. Fox is more and more glad of Thorn’s assignment to the Guard every day. The man is efficient and brilliant, identifying issues and working to resolve them without any input at all. He can see why he was selected for the Guard, and is unsurprised when he looks through his file to see he scored exceptionally well on all modules.

Stone is also an excellent commander. He brings a certain calm and solidness to the role that balances both Fox and Thorn. Fox can see Alpha-17’s hand in his posting, and confirms it when chatting to his commanders one evening. Stone laughingly tells him 17 was a complete arsehole and wouldn’t stop working him to the bone at every possible second, but Fox can see the fond quirk to his grin, and suspects Stone was one of the Alpha’s favourites. He’s resilient and flexible, bending with the currents of the work, yet remaining firm in the face of any adversity.

Fox is glad to have them both beside him.

Hound is slightly more estranged from them at first. He’s focused on the Massif squad, and doesn’t really play into the running of the rest of the battallion. Fox knows he’d been working closely with Thorn on the rotas though, ensuring that any patrols have massif support, while also retaining a few at the base for any emergencies that came in. Fox briefly wonders if a divide may form between Hound and the other commanders, and considers what he might need to do to bridge it, but Hound quickly sweeps that notion away. He strides into the Commander’s office in the Senate one day in that first week, plonks himself down at the last desk in the room, and asks if they’d given any consideration to inter-team sessions to integrate everyone together. That leads into a long discussion, all of the commanders figuring out ways to train and work the different specialities together, and Hound has firmly planted himself in the Command team by the end of it.

Fox will admit to being glad of it, Hound brings his Massif, a slobbering, gleeful girl called Grizzer with him to meetings after that, and none of them can quite resist scratching her under her chin when she makes her rounds of the room.

The agreed upon week passes, and they begin to take on some of CorSec’s work. Fox had insisted on being part of the teams training to take over investigations, as well as being part of patrols. He fully believes that he should take part in anything he is asking his men to do, and sits right alongside them at the flashtraining machines to pound as much knowledge into his brain as quickly as possible. He enjoys it, to be fair, has always loved learning new things and challenging himself. Thorn is less thrilled with the sudden change in role, but does join them at times. He’s not put himself on the first wave, having taken on the role of rostering and planning and needing to focus on those in the first. But despite his grumbles about taking on work they aren’t designed for, Fox catches him avidly reading through a training package. He has a sneaking suspicion Thorn will wind up on the CorSec duties more often than any of the other commanders.

Bones just laughs at all of them, and organises his Infirmary to perfection. His medics are drilling on a daily basis, Bones keeping them on a strict schedule of training in various field and life-saving techniques. He’s also discussed with Fox about expanding their knowledge. They’re out from the immediate eye of Kamino now, and Bones has been doing research into the general populus of Coruscant. None of them had really known mental health aid had existed, beyond reconditioning if behaviour became too intolerable to the trainers. It’s a difficult discussion, all of them feeling uncomfortable with the premise, eyes darting about for cameras and freezing at any noise that might be a Kaminoan walking by. Bones continues blithely on through it all, making it clear that he will be looking into this, and if he can use it to prevent any reconditionings from happening, then all the better.

Fox is inordinately proud of all of them. Alpha-17 sends him a short message at the end of the first week, a simple “Exceeding performance expectations”, and all of them hoot and holler and knock heads together in the command bunkroom, full of excitement. Fox goes to sleep that night with warmth in his chest and hope in his head.

——

The first month goes smoothly. They’ve picked up the work from CorSec with ease, finding that all the training and enhancements from the Kaminoans have made them surprisingly suited for the roles of policing a population. Within the first two weeks, Fox and his investigation team are accepting commendations from the Chancellor for shutting down a spice gang that had settled into the underbelly of Coruscant. Rhys gets special recognition from the Chancellor, after having taken a blaster bolt to the left leg and still chasing after and catching one of the major nominals. Fox had stood proudly beside him, banging a fist to his chest when the Chancellor pinned the magnetised medal to Rhys’ chestplate.

They hold their own celebration in the base that night, telling stories of their feats and being embraced by brothers on all sides. The Senate have gifted them an alcoholic beverage called “beer”, and those not on duty quickly find themselves enjoying it. Fox sits, shoulders pressed against Rhy’s and Thorn’s, and smiles at every brother who meets his eyes.

He wakes the next morning with an aching head and a queezy stomach, but it’s totally worth it.

The day after that, the Chancellor has another gift delivered to their base. The crates come with a note, and Fox reads it as Grizzer sniffs around them, lead by an intrigued-looking Hound.

“For the men’s armour. Red to represent the Senate. My congratulations, and sincerest gratitude for all your efforts.”

Fox hands the note to Thorn, and goes to open one of the crates once Hound gives the all-clear. He has a sneaking suspicion as to what will be in the crates, has seen pictures in the command chat of Cody’s sunbeams, and Gree’s olive green stripes. He’s pleased to see he’s right when he opens the crate, tubs of paint and packets of paintbrushes stacked inside.

Thorn leans over next to him, and smacks a hand to Fox’s shoulder in delight. “There’s enough here for everyone to get creative and then some!”

Fox grins at him. “Bet half the brothers already have their designs picked out.”

Thorn laughs. “If you think it’s any less than all of them then you’re stupider than I thought Fox!” And promptly ducks out of the way of Fox’s mock-offended punch to his arm.

They make a celebration of it. As many people as can fit gather in the canteen, tables and benches shoved to the side as everyone finds themselves space on the floor. Paintbrushes and paint gets handed out, and the atmosphere is joyful as brothers get to painting. Fox, Stone, Thorn, Hound and Bones have all adjusted their work schedule to ensure they’re here for this first sitting. They’re all gathered together in a group in the middle. Rhys is nearby, as well as a few other brothers that have become close to the command team. Bones has a cheerful medic named Felix sat with him, the pair of them bent over their pauldrons together, carefully lining out the medic’s symbol and quietly talking. Hound has Lexie and Mass, who’d argued for his name to be Massif, and promptly found himself nicknamed Mass instead. They’re using a lot of jagged lines, and Fox wonders if their armour will look as intimidating as the Massif’s themselves when in work mode.

Thorn has a captain named Thire sat with him. Thire had barely been old enough for deployment when they’d left Kamino. Fox has carefully avoided looking at his file, as 17 had blithely ignored him when he’d mentioned Thire having not been in the training squads he’d seen. He and Thorn have become fast-friends, and Thire has been proving himself invaluable as a Captain. Fox has already started considering whether there may be scope for another command position, and how he can promote Thire into it. Thorn had glared at him when he’d mentioned the possibility of another command role in passing, and promptly told him that if he wasn’t considering Thire for it, that he and Fox would be having words. Fox had simply blinked at him, while Stone had snorted at his desk. Thorn had rolled his eyes at the pair of them and gone back to scheduling out the senatorial meetings for the week ahead.

Stone doesn’t have anyone specific, but there’s a whole horde of people who had moved to sit in his vicinity when he’d chosen his spot. Stone has no favourites, but everyone is fond of him. He’s turned to a couple of troopers next to him, complimenting them on their designs and discussing what they mean with them. Both troopers, Lyle and Brands, Fox notes, wear happy smiles and talk effusively with Stone.

Fox is quiet for a while, just observing, He’s yet to put paint to his own armour, too content to sit in the feeling of family around him right now. All these brothers, his brothers, sat together and painting their armour in designs of their choosing, smiling and laughing and talking together, none of them worrying about a trainer coming round the corner, a longneck spying them on the cameras, a punishment in the wings.

Fox breaths, and looking down, begins to paint the emblem of Corsucant on his left pauldron. It’s everything he’d hoped for, and more.

#star wars #the clone wars #star wars the clone wars #commander fox #coruscant guard #my fanfiction #star wars prequels #star wars fanfiction #cc 1010

[warsofasoiaf]

When the dance of Dragons broke out, Dorne declared itself neutral and offered no aid to either the Blacks or the Greens. However, do you think House Martell funneled support to the Vulture King as a means of probing the strength of their northern neighbors during the conflict?

The Vulture King has always seemed to be a deniable asset for the Martells, hoping to always cause low-level annoyance and lack of cohesion and act as an early warning indicator if they start seeing more troops and more supplies being shipped into the Marches for another possible ground invasion.

Thanks for the question, Anon.

SomethingLikeALawyer, Hand of the King

#house martell #vulture king

[clonemando]

Haunted Clone Week

Written for the Day 1 prompt: Dark between the Stars

@clonefandomevents

AO3 version here

Ponds is left abandoned in space after he is shot but that doesn't mean he's dead.

Ponds wasn’t dead. He should have been seeing as he had been shot in his head and then spaced. But somehow he wasn’t dead. The pain had been intense but then the cold had numbed it until it faded away. The burning of lungs without oxygen had done the same. He knew, logically, that without a pressurized suit he should have imploded or something but instead he just… drifted. Between specs of light he knew were lightyears away. He only felt cold and numb and… empty. 

He had so much he had wanted to do still. He had a letter in his bunk that was unaddressed that still needed to be left on a certain other Commander’s desk. He had a little blue and white stuffed tooka doll that had carefully sewn jaig eyes on its forehead he had wanted to give to Rex. He had a tin of specialty caff he had forgotten to tell his General about that was supposedly both tasty and good for helping headaches. So much was left behind and all he could do was think about how now he’ll never get the chance. 

It could have been minutes or days or years as Ponds drifted through space with his path fueled only by the momentum caused by being forcefully ejected from the ship and the gravitational pull of the nearest stars. He wondered if this was what death was. Was it your consciousness existing in your body even when all life in it was gone? Would he be trapped like this for the millions of years it took for his body to eventually get dragged into a star until he burnt away? Would he keep existing even then? Were stars filled with the souls of all they had devoured all watching without any way to cry out or be seen? 

Another lifetime or just a few more minutes passed. The darkness around him seemed to cradle him like he was in some sort of dark water. It reminded him of being in a bacta tank and then it dug deeper and brought back memories he didn’t know he had of being in a tube floating in a warm thick fluid. It made him think of the first time he swam in one of the many irrigation channels on Kamino that caught rain water and funneled it into basins where the water could be purified into something drinkable for humanoid species. He had always loved the water. Cody had suggested they call him fish or frog but it had been Fox that came up with the name he kept. Ponds. It had been a joke. Something about how he was always calm when the rest of them weren’t and his love of water and something about mud had been brought up but he had liked it. He wanted to be a place his brothers felt at peace and safe. He liked the idea of being a little messy but full of life and surprises. Not as mucky as a swamp, not as grand as a lake. Just a little pond. 

He missed his family. He missed Wolffe’s gruff love and Cody’s warm hugs and Fox’s sharp wit. He missed Bly running his fingers through his hair when he would rest his head on his brother’s thigh while Bly was working on a training module. How long has it been? Did they remember him? Did they cry over him dying? Bly definitely would have cried. Wolffe likely would have needed to punch something until all the feelings went away. Bly didn’t know how Cody would have reacted to the news. At this point so many of them had died, was Cody already numb to losing their brothers? Fox probably was. He had already told them how hard it was on triple zero and how fast they went through troops because the senators wanted them decommissioned any time they messed up. They all supported him the best they could but it was hard being so far away. 

The darkness was growing. Ponds had been staring at the same little speck of light now for ages and it was getting dimmer. There was nothing else to do by this point. He had given up on trying to figure out why he was aware and he had gotten bored of hypotheticals on how his brothers were reacting to things. He had been trying to figure out where he was based on what he could see and what he had known about where they had been headed. He was pretty sure the light he was looking at was near Coruscant or in that same direction… maybe. It was hard to tell. He really was just in empty space. No planets close enough to make out. No stars close enough to be more than a distant dot. He started doing calculations on how long it would take for light from Coruscant to reach where he thought he might be on a galactic map and then subtracting that from the timeline he knew from galactic history to try to figure out when the light he was seeing might have been from. 

Cody had always said he was a nerd. He liked math and equations and filling out data forms. He liked puzzles that could be solved and hard facts that added up nicely. He was proud of his scores in astrophysics. If his numbers were right then he was looking at Coruscant back before the cities were even first built. It would still have oceans at this point. If he could zoom in his eyes to see it in detail instead of just a white flickering dot, he might even be able to see land there. He remembered learning that the Taung had lived there first… those who would create the Mandalorians… would they still have been the primary species? It might have been from even before them. 

A ship suddenly stopped near Ponds from hyperspace and he felt a tractor beam start tugging his body toward a cargo hatch. His mind had stopped processing things ages ago so he couldn’t remember if he knew this ship or not. It felt familiar.

“I have retrieved the body. The boy didn’t lie about the coordinates. It’s covered in… some sort of inky stuff but I’ll clean it before we arrive back at the temple so it can receive a proper funeral.” A familiar voice said as Ponds’ body was dumped on the floor of the hold. Ponds felt the pain returning and groaned, his body starting to spasm causing the being that dragged him from space to jump back in fear. 

Ponds slowly came back to his mind. He was wrapped in cold but it was comfortable. He slowly moved his fingers and relaxed as they moved as he willed them despite now being the same empty black color as the space he had been left in. 

“You’re supposed to be dead! How are you alive?!” A voice filled with terror said and he looked at them with eyes filled with starlight as their blaster shook from where it was pointed at him. 

“I am dead.” He muttered and ignored it as the being shot him twice when he finally stepped forward. He took the blaster and snapped it in half with his hands like it was nothing but a twig. 

He didn’t know what he was now but it wasn’t living and that meant he couldn’t die. Which was good because he had things to do. 

“I already got shot, I’d like to not be shot anymore. Can you take me to my General Mace Windu?” He asked and grinned when the spacer nodded and ran for the cockpit.

#star wars #Haunted Clone Week #the clone wars #Commander Ponds #Cosmic horror #clone troopers #fanfic #tcw #eldrich horror #transformation #one shot #my writing #clonefandomevents

[sculptorofcrimson]

Lower the Blade

Musings upon Valdor.

What would it have felt like, to lower the blade?

Sometimes they squirm and fight and scream and refuse to die. Sometimes its ghastly, it's a foul thing to witness, as your knife pierce the heart and apply pressure, as long blades retract from another honorable death and the Cataegis beneath you roars and thrashes. And he refuses to die. He's still clinging there, his nails clawing into your auramite, his bones baked into the surface of your carvings and the litanies of your names, his heart no longer beating, his body spasming but still refusing to die.

Imagine being the hand to lower the blade.

Sometimes, they don't understand. They only look up at you with dull, lifeless eyes, watching as their reality crumbles, when they called out for Unity and heard the blade fall. They stare up at you, without comprehension, without guilt, without even reproach at all, with only numb, unrealizing terror as your troops consume them one by one. As you herd them to the edge like bison and hurl them off of cliffs, as you crack power armor beneath unfeeling spears and stomp down on fingerbones clinging to the edge of mountain rocks. As you pin them down like cattle funnelled through the slaughterhouse, constrained so closely they could not even raise their blades as your brethren brought them a golden, gilded death. They do not understand. They cannot understand.

They do not understand the weight of your betrayal, Constantin Valdor.

They don't understand. Their primarchs still lick the hand that holds the knife, like faithful dogs brought to the blade, they still cry out for Unity, that worthless dream, foolishly believing He cared, foolishly believing that tyranny was not the end of conquest. No one seeks power to relinquish it. It was always tyranny, in the end. It was humanity that must be ruled.

Some of them don't even realize they were being betrayed. Too lost in their dreams of unity, or perhaps too blinded by the love of their master. He never loved them. He never cared for them. Not even with you.

They still cry out. Raspy breaths, ghosting past the snow. You hear their voices, robbed, stripped, broken by the wind, but still colored with excitement, with the high of victory that had yet to leave. They were still smiling when you cut them down, when you called orders through auramite links and ordered their bones to be turned to ash.

You killed them. You killed them, so the Imperium could live in peace, and now that sin will stain your soul forever. Traitor. The very First Traitor, His Majesty Himself, and His loyal guards. Without even the will to mourn a hollow victory, forever watching as the Cataegis lived and fought and died in a way you never could: with a life lived, and a dream dreamt.

Imagine being the hand that lowered the blade. Without the ghost of guilt. Without even the shadow of remorse. To scare into those eyes and see the Reaper staring back, grim and determined and without even a heart to care. Imagine being the hand that culled His servants. And He forgives you.

He embraces you in His love, and tells you it was worth it, that not even justice, sin, horror or even betrayal itself, was too unfathomable to serve, to serve His dream. He wraps you in His embrace and tells you it was justice, it was golden, it was as He had ordained.

But if that was the case, why were you so hollow? Why could you be nothing more than bitterly pitied, by the very man you betrayed? Why would you take nothing but a scant sense of satisfaction at pleasing Him, and not even a hint of glory for yourself?

Why could you truly be nothing, when you have betrayed the one man who once saw you as a human, when you betrayed his brothers yet he could only weep for you? Without hate, without even anger, but with only bitter pity?

Why could you be His traitor, His dog, and His slave, yet not even granted the right to pain? To feel horror at such a profound violation, such an atrocity and such a betrayal? Why could you be nothing more than His dream, Constantin Valdor?

#warhammer 40k #wh40k #sculptor of crimson #constantin valdor #adeptus custodes #warhammer #emperor of mankind #wh40k writing prompts #thunder warriors #ushotan

[elisabeth515]

Titanic Officer Barbie Movie Posters (and 1 fun fact about each of the officers!)

(Because why not)

Feel free to save as phone wallpapers 🙈

I’ve decided to include our babeypurser McElroy because the role of Purser is sometimes regarded as an officer role. Among all the officers, Lightoller (B), Pitman (5), Boxhall (2) and Lowe (14) survived the sinking. McElroy was the only officer whose body was recovered and identified; he was buried at sea.

Now to the fun facts!

Henry Wilde: he was already captain and was set to command the SS Cymric for the Liverpool to Boston Route. Unfortunately, the coal strike happened and his first voyage with Cymric was delayed to presumably 1st May. White Star Line decided to put him in onto the crew of Titanic as Chief Officer.

As you guys may know already, Henry Wilde is my favourite officer so it’s not surprising that I have been posting about him for this April. I also am currently doing a series of TikToks for his actions throughout Titanic’s maiden voyage as well🙈

Here’s my post about Wilde being made aware of joining Titanic

This is my post on the Crew Shuffle if anyone would like to read more about it

William Murdoch: Charles Lightoller thought his bestie’s moustache make him look ugly so he grew his moustache so that Will could shave. Nevertheless, we all think otherwise.

Charles Lightoller: of course, his role as one of the captains of the little ships during the Dunkirk Evacuation. He saved around 130 lives in it with his family yacht, the Sundowner.

Side note: currently, the Sundowner is a museum ship in Ramsgate but sadly, the yacht is in a bad condition and we need money to repair. I know I don’t have much high opinions on the British (yeah except Henry Wilde), despite having been living in England for almost 5 years, but Lightoller has been one of the most intriguing figures to me; being through 4 shipwrecks and fire, also living through Titanic, WWI, and Dunkirk, his story of hope and survival is worth a movie. If you would like to help preserving a piece of history, please consider donate to help save this famous getaway yacht little ship🙈

Donate here

And here’s the campaign video by our TikTok Lightoller Fan Club President Melissa on saving the getaway yacht

Herbert Pitman: despite suffering from seasickness, this son of a farmer had a more than half-century long seafaring career, retiring in 1946. He started his career as an apprentice, then a deck officer and when he could not pass the eye test due to colour blindness at one eye, White Star Line made him a purser and he stayed in this position for the rest of his career. Pitman served in both world wars on troop ships; when he retired, he was a Lieutenant-Commander of the Royal Naval Reserves and was created an MBE in 1948, in recognition of his long service in the merchant marine.

Joseph Boxhall: he had a very happy marriage with his wife Majory and they were very fond of their dogs. This may be a substitute to children given that they do not have children together but anyways if anyone asked why you haven’t had kids yet, tell them about the Boxhalls and their doggos 🐶

Harold Lowe: he was a hobby artist who works with watercolours, as well as wood carvings. This may come across as surprising but you should not be surprised given that his father was an artist. There are a few of Harold’s drawings exists today, including a sketch of Titanic (in which he messed up with the funnels). Oh yes, he was also in the church choir as well when he was young.

James Moody: During his South American runs, he would sometimes flirt with female passengers with his very patchy Spanish and well, sometimes he just dropped in some swear words by accident. Yeah, in case you wondered, he’s not that shy as you thought after watching Ed’s portrayal of our daring Jim in the 1997 movie (the real Jim was quite cheeky actually).

Hugh McElroy: as the ship’s purser, he was there to take care of passengers’ needs (like he’s basically the “manager”). From parrot-tending (yes, and he trained the parrot to do morse code) to organising marriage ceremonies for runaway couples, he’s there to try to help. And as a result, he was a very popular man on the ship and passengers were honoured to share a table with him.

-

Sources:

TitanicOfficers.com

@/Melissafairlady on tiktok (the revenge ‘stache fact)

Encyclopaedia Titanica forum (the discussion thread on Moody)

#titanic #titanic officers #henry wilde #william murdoch #william mcmaster murdoch #charles lightoller #herbert pitman #joseph boxhall #harold lowe #james moody #james paul moody #Hugh McElroy #chief officer dilf #goofy ahh sailor boi #the good boi #Anglo drama queen #emotional support scrunko blorbo #soft moustache boi #steve carell on sea #dog dad #discounted horatio hornblower #gossip boy #babeypurser #titanic shitposting

[zvaigzdelasas]

In September 1950, US President Harry Truman sent the Military Assistance Advisory Group (MAAG) to Vietnam to assist the French in the First Indochina War. The President claimed they were not sent as combat troops, but to supervise the use of $10 million worth of US military equipment to support the French in their effort to fight the Viet Minh forces. By 1953, aid increased dramatically to $350 million to replace old military equipment owned by the French.[6][...]

In 1954 the commanding general of French forces in Indochina, General Henri Navarre, allowed the United States to send liaison officers to Vietnamese forces. But it was too late, because of the siege and fall of Dien Bien Phu in the spring. As stated by the Geneva Accords, France was forced to surrender the northern half of Vietnam and to withdraw from South Vietnam by April 1956.[7] At a conference in Washington, D.C., on February 12, 1955, between officials of the U.S. State Department and the French Minister of Overseas Affairs, it was agreed that all U.S. aid would be funneled directly to South Vietnam and that all major military responsibilities would be transferred from the French to the MAAG under the command of Lieutenant General John O'Daniel. MAAG Indochina was renamed the MAAG Vietnam on November 1,1955, as the United States became more deeply involved in what would come to be known as the Vietnam War.

The next few years saw the rise of a Communist insurgency in South Vietnam, and President Diem looked increasingly to US military assistance to strengthen his position, albeit with certain reservations. Attacks on US military advisors in Vietnam became more frequent. On October 22, 1957, MAAG Vietnam and USIS installations in Saigon were bombed, injuring US military advisors.[8] In the summer of 1959, Communist guerrillas staged an attack on a Vietnamese military base in Bien Hoa, killing and wounding several MAAG personnel.[8] [...] By 1961, communist guerrillas were becoming stronger and more active. This increased enemy contacts in size and intensity throughout South Vietnam. At this point, Diem was under pressure from US authorities to liberalize his regime and implement reforms. Although key elements in the US administration were resisting his requests for increased military funding and Army of the Republic of Vietnam (ARVN) troop ceilings, MAAG Vietnam played a significant role in advocating for a greater US presence in the country.[9] Throughout this period relations between the MAAG Vietnam and Diem were described as "excellent"[...]

Newly elected President John F. Kennedy agreed with MAAG Vietnam's calls for increases in ARVN troop levels and the U.S. military commitment in both equipment and men. In response, Kennedy provided $28.4 million in funding for ARVN, and overall military aid increased from $50 million per year to $144 million in 1961. In the first year of the Kennedy administration, MAAG Vietnam worked closely with administration officials, USOM, and the US Information Service to develop a counterinsurgency plan (CIP). The CIP's main initiatives included the strengthening of ARVN to combat the Communist insurgency, which had the corollary effect of strengthening Diem's political position.[9] At the same time President Diem agreed to the assignment of advisors to battalion level, significantly increasing the number of advisors; from 746 in 1961 to over 3,400 before MAAG Vietnam was placed under U.S. Military Assistance Command Vietnam (MACV) and renamed the Field Advisory Element, Vietnam. At the peak of the war in 1968, 9,430 US Army personnel, along with smaller numbers of US Navy, US Marine Corps, US Air Force and Australian Army personnel acted as advisors down to the district and battalion level to train, advise and mentor the Army of the Republic of Vietnam (ARVN), Republic of Vietnam Marine Corps, Republic of Vietnam Navy and the Republic of Vietnam Air Force.

Anyway no parallels to see here

[your-resident-boat-person]

hi boat mutual you are in my fav mutuals circle. why is the RMS olympic ur fav ocean liner?

OOOOoooooh thank you SO much for asking. So, I measure ocean liners by a few criteria. External Appearance, Internal Appearance, Career, Speed (relative to the fastest liner of her time), etc.

In terms of External Appearance, I like the Olympic. She’s not my favorite, I think I might prefer the SS United States or the Queen Mary, MAYBE even the Mauretania too, but that's tough. Anyway, I love the shape of the Olympics forward superstructure. I think she pulls off the relatively square/flat superstructure much better than ships like the Aquitania. I think Aquitania's superstructure might just be ever so slightly too tall, but I’m not quite sure. I’ve also never been a fan of the split superstructure near the bow like on the RMS Oceanic and the Big Four. Anyway, The ratio of superstructure to hull to funnels is just fantastic. The shape/proportions of Olympics funnels are excellent. I also think the White Star livery suits her very well. Especially in the 20’s when her sheer line was lowered.

In terms of interiors, I absolutely adore the Olympics wood paneled Edwardian decor. I might be a BIT biased, because I have a much better understanding of the Olympics interior and decor thanks to Titanic: Honor and Glory. If I were to go back in time and sail on the Lusitania or Mauretania, I might prefer them, but the pictures can only convey so much to me now. I’ve also always preferred the Edwardian decor to the Art Deco decor on ships like the Normandie. Don’t get me wrong, the Normandie was gorgeous, but her interiors almost give me the vibe of an art museum. Cold, imposing, almost sterile. Not exactly a place I’d like to live for a week. The Queen Mary is much better in this regard, feeling much more warm and inviting, but I still just overall prefer the pre war decor of ocean liners. Olympic just happens to be my favorite.

In terms of speed, everyone makes a very big deal about how the Olympic class was just too slow to take the blue riband from the Lusitania class, but the Olympic wasn’t exactly slow either. With an initial service speed of 21 knots, and a maximum recorded speed of 24 knots, she was still very fast compared to most liners of her day, especially compared to the Big Four, which could only go between 16 and 18 knots.

However, standing above all else is the Olympics career, which for me, is what makes her stand above the rest.

When the Lusitania was launched, she beat the previous ship in terms of size by 6,969 gross registered tons. When the Olympic was launched, she beat the Lusitania by nearly twice that, being 13,774 gross registered tons larger. (For reference, The Kaiserin Auguste Victoria was 24,581 GRT, The Lusitania was 31,550 GRT, and the Olympic was 45,324 GRT). At the time of her launch, she was the largest man made moving object ever built, by far. Shortly thereafter she suffered a collision with the HMS Hawke, but survived easily thanks to her watertight compartments. After the sinking of her sister, the Titanic, she was withdrawn from service and refit, introducing safety features that made her by far the safest ship afloat. She already was the safest before the refit, but the refit fixed some critical flaws and oversights by adding lifeboats, raising bulkheads, adding an interior second skin to absorb damage (remember this one) and plenty more.

World War I began in 1914, and the Olympic was once again withdrawn from service. This time, she was refit as a troop ship. During the war, Olympic is reported to have carried up to 201,000 troops and other personnel, burning 347,000 tons of coal and traveling about 184,000 miles. She survived TWO encounters with German U-boats. Most ships don't survive one, and in one of these two encounters, the U-Boat didn't survive! The crew of the Olympic spotted the U-Boat and managed to ram and sink it. The Olympic was the only merchant ship to have sunk enemy tonnage during World War 1. Can't say definitively for other wars, but none come to mind. A plaque was placed in one of Olympics first class spaces to commemorate the event. The second encounter went a bit differently. The second U-Boat actually managed to hit Olympic with a torpedo. Luckily it was a dud, and didn't detonate. The torpedo did make a small hole in her hull, but the double hull contained the flooding. The crew of the Olympic didn't know she was hit until she was put in dry dock after the war and they found the hole.

After the war, she repatriated Canadian troops and earned the nickname "Old Reliable". A dance hall was even named after her. She was once again refit, giving her oil fired boilers. This significantly reduced the amount of crew necessary, from (approximately) 350 men to only 50. Also, this change increased her average speed by a 10th of a knot, and significantly reduced the amount of smoke and pollution she created. She could also be completely refueled in a day, rather than a week. Because oil is a liquid, they were actually able to store it in unconventional places like the space between the double hull. This gave Olympic incredible range and fuel capacity compared to her rivals. Throughout the 1920s, she became extremely popular with the rich and famous. This was despite the fact that Olympic was no longer White Star Line's flagship. That title went to the Majestic, originally a German liner, but ceded to the brits as a war reparation. But as I was saying, her popularity with celebrities of the time earned her the nickname of "The Movie Star Liner". By 1934, the effects of the great depression had taken hold. Very few people were traveling. Cunard and White Star were in pretty serious trouble (White Star wasn't just suffering from the great depression, but that's a story for another day). Cunard didn't have enough money to complete the RMS Queen Mary and made an appeal to the government for help. They agreed, but only under the condition that the Cunard line and White Star Line merge. At this point, many Cunard and White Star ships were sold or scrapped to get as much money as possible for the Queen Mary. This includes the 3 remaining ships of the Big Four, and even the Mauretania. The thing that doomed the Olympic was her lack of private bathrooms. Standards for travel and comfort had simply changed too much since 1911, and the Olympic no longer made enough of a profit for Cunard White Star to keep her in service. She was sold for scrap, and by 1936, she was gone.

Anyway, sorry for the huge info dump. Tl;dr - The Olympic is my favorite because of her interesting career. I'm very passionate about the topic. Also, apologies for any inaccuracies. Most of this was from memory, but I made sure to fact-check all the big stuff and the numbers.

#ocean liner #ocean liners #titanic #rms titanic #rms olympic #olympic #cunard #rms queen mary #oceanliner #normandie #ss Normandie #world war 1

[republicansaredomesticterrorists]

Trump and his sycophants have destroyed the Republican Party. They are no longer conservatives either fiscally or on foreign policy. They are a party of chaos beholden to the right-wing culture warrior oligarchs. They are the derogatory agents of those oligarchs and the corporations owned by them. They make decisions based on the whim of a deranged madman.

They have gone from being closet racists/bigots to being full blown Nazis that call for the extermination of their culture war scapegoats they call “vermin” (marginalized people/political rivals). They take this term directly from Hitler who they openly embrace in speech and writing. They no longer care about tax cuts for all but just for the 1% and corporations. They want endless wars to profit from and to distract and rally their deplorable base. They no longer want small, limited government but opt for a massive government that intrudes into its citizens private lives and tramples their freedoms.

The party of law and order is now a party of criminals, sex offenders, grifters, traitors, and murderous street thugs. They are proud of this and fund raise and merchandise from their lawlessness. They have bought control of what is now an illegitimate SCOTUS which never allows them to be held accountable.

They use the KKK, Neo-Nazi groups, armed right-wing militias, Neo-Confederates, and white supremacists to persecute their opponents and victims in the streets and inside the Capitol itself. They tell us to “get over it” when mindless gun violence decimates our families in every public venue from churches, to schools, to 4th of July celebrations, movie theaters, shopping malls, and even a Super Bowl parade.

The police, courts, and legislatures are infested with their white nationalist/supremacists and Christo-fascists. They openly take money from Russia and others to influence our foreign policy and economic policy. Money from Russia is funneled into the NRA and Congress to allow a massive proliferation of gun violence on our streets that destabilizes our society.

They claim to be the party of the military but they degrade and insult our troops and cast our veterans into the streets. They abandon our allies and our treaty obligations at the behest of foreign dictators that bribe them.

They bust our unions and pass laws to weaken or prevent organized labor. They are forcing society to become wage slaves with no security, insurance, or pensions. They force our workers into the “gig economy” where everyone works incredible hours 7 days a week at multiple jobs and still are left unable to afford rent or mortgages. Nearly the entire population is one or two paychecks away from being homeless.

Decades of trickle down economics has seen our tax dollars poured into the accounts of billionaires, millionaires, and corporations with not a penny trickling down to the working class. The middle class has been practically wiped out by cruel Republican legislation written by political think tanks established and funded by oligarchs. The only thing these pseudo-conservatives conserve is their own wealth.

This is late stage capitalism run amok. The economy has been drained and now the oligarchs and corporations are plundering the government. They have taken advantage of decades of right-wing propaganda proliferated by Fox News, conservatives talk radio, and internet podcasts that have brain washed the rural areas into blaming the Democrats that are trying help them while convincing them to vote for the Republicans who have impoverished them. The French Revolution in reverse.

They see the Orange Dictator as their last best chance to completely take over the government and create a kleptocracy that pulls the strings behind an autocracy that pretends to be a republic.

The chaos of the Republican puppets is to distract everyone from the takeover by the oligarchs, corporations, and deep pocketed foreign adversaries.

#vote Biden Harris 2024 #vote blue always #vote democratic down the ballot #republican assholes #traitor trump #crooked donald #Republican corruption #Republican chaos

[darkbluekies]

I was actually going to sleep then I saw you respond to my ask, I'm actually very interested and intrigued so I wanted to respond immediately!

— Jesus fucking Christ they actually measured the entirety of the ship? That level of hm, how does one describe this, pettiness or determination? Perhaps a sense of both, I mean I'd get petty too if I lost something valuable and ended up getting an unfair compensation. I wonder what the reaction of the Germans were when they realized they actually measured it.

— oh god that's actually so fucking hilarious 😭😭 getting worked up over nothing, I mean, at least they had a design? 😭

— That's quite something, Grey Ghost? Why is QMS nickname Grey Ghost? Does it have relations due to it being not found?

— I... I have no idea what to say 😭 that's actually so ironic

— Holy shit a ship sinking in just 14 minutes is plain terrifying?? Why did it sink that fast anyways?

— Wow... That's actually really sad and quite brave of him too, I don't think I've heard of the Wilhelm Gustloff disaster and 9000 deaths in one night is crazy. Hopefully that guy is doing alright, it's possible he might get survivors guilt, I might research about the disaster and see what I can find!

— woah, the first design is quite pretty! The second one reminds me of a factory for some reason

Ahh this is what little brain juice I can squeeze out from my brain, though I actually enjoyed this and it made my night more interesting! :D I'll head off to sleep now, goodnight!

—🌊

— lol apparently? there were more petty things in that affair, such as painting a ship supposed to be given to White Star Line in Germany's colors, turnign the british officers' quarters to a cleaning supply room etc lmao

— it was a design alright ... just not a good one. The wings of the golden eagle fell of during a storm so they're at the bottom of the atlantic right now. The eagle looks even more stupid without the wings😭 (picture at the bottom)

—The ship was painted fully grey because it was used as a troop ship which made it hard to find it. The ship was extremely fast, so it was fast to catch her. These two characteristics earned her the name The Grey Ghost. (picture at the bottom)

— the ships weren't even alike???? one had an funnel and whatnot?? i'm not even sure how they thought that it would work ... and it clearly didn't.

— It was a foggy night and two ships were supposed to go past each other, but in the fog they couldn't see each others lights, so a norweigan ship called Storstad rammed the side of Empress of Ireland and cut up a gigantic hole. The ship itself was almost half the size of titanic. A lot of people died that night because they didn't have the time to get out.

— I'm not even sure it was legal to sink the WG? I know that it had been a hospital ship during WW2 (it's seen as a war crime to sink a hospital ship), but it seems like it had returned to a normal ship during the time WG was sunk. The reason (i think) why it was sunk was because a lot of nazi party members were on board with their families, supposedly relocating to another country, and was sunken by soviet submarines. WIlhelm Gustloff could only carry 1465 passangers, but had around 10 000 during its sinking. Although there were many bad people on board there were children as well. The actor was a small child, so i hope that he doesn't remember much of it, because I cannot imagine the horror he must live with otherwise.

— Unfortunately, the times were changing and the edwardian design was no longer popular :( I would have loved another Olympmic class liner :(

here's a before an after of the eagle lmao

From left to right: SS Normandie, RMS Queen Mary, RMS Aquitania

I could talk about ocean liners forever. If I got paid by the hour to talk about them I would be so fucking rich I'm telling you

#🌊anon

[theculturedmarxist]

The Taliban government in Afghanistan – the nation that until recently produced 90% of the world’s heroin – has drastically reduced opium cultivation across the country. Western sources estimate an up to 99% reduction in some provinces. This raises serious questions about the seriousness of U.S. drug eradication efforts in the country over the past 20 years. And, as global heroin supplies dry up, experts tell MintPress News that they fear this could spark the growing use of fentanyl – a drug dozens of times stronger than heroin that already kills more than 100,000 Americans yearly.

[...]

The Taliban’s successful campaign to eradicate drug production has cast a shadow of doubt over the effectiveness of American-led endeavors to achieve the same outcome. “It prompts the question, ‘What were we actually accomplishing there?!'” remarked Hoh, underscoring:

This undermines one of the fundamental premises behind the wars: the alleged association between the Taliban and the drug trade – a concept of a narco-terror nexus. However, this notion was fallacious. The reality was that Afghanistan was responsible for a staggering 80-90% of the world’s illicit opiate supply. The primary controllers of this trade were the Afghan government and military, entities we upheld in power.”

Hoh clarified that he never personally witnessed or received any reports of direct involvement by U.S. troops or officials in narcotics trafficking. Instead, he contended that there existed a “conscious and deliberate turning away from the unfolding events” during his tenure in Afghanistan.’

Suzanna Reiss, an academic at the University of Hawaii at Manoa and the author of “We Sell Drugs: The Alchemy of U.S. Empire,” demonstrated an even more cynical perspective on American counter-narcotics endeavors as she conveyed to MintPress:

The U.S. has never really been focused on reducing the drug trade in Afghanistan (or elsewhere for that matter). All the lofty rhetoric aside, the U.S. has been happy to work with drug traffickers if the move would advance certain geopolitical interests (and indeed, did so, or at least turned a knowingly blind eye, when groups like the Northern Alliance relied on drugs to fund their political movement against the regime.).”

Afghanistan’s transformation into a preeminent narco-state owes a significant debt to Washington’s actions. Poppy cultivation in the 1970s was relatively limited. However, the tide changed in 1979 with the inception of Operation Cyclone, a massive infusion of funds to Afghan Mujahideen factions aimed at exhausting the Soviet military and terminating its presence in Afghanistan. The U.S. directed billions toward the insurgents, yet their financial needs persisted. Consequently, the Mujahideen delved into the illicit drug trade. By the culmination of Operation Cyclone, Afghanistan’s opium production had soared twentyfold. Professor Alfred McCoy, acclaimed author of “The Politics of Heroin: CIA Complicity in the Global Drug Trade,” shared with MintPress that approximately 75% of the planet’s illegal opium output was now sourced from Afghanistan, a substantial portion of the proceeds funneling to U.S.-backed rebel factions.

Unraveling the Opioid Crisis: An Impending Disaster

The opioid crisis is the worst addiction epidemic in U.S. history. Earlier this year, Department of Homeland Security Secretary Alejandro Mayorkas described the American fentanyl problem as “the single greatest challenge we face as a country.” Nearly 110,000 Americans died from drug overdoses in 2021, fentanyl being by far the leading cause. Between 2015 and 2021, the National Institute of Health recorded a nearly 7.5-fold increase in overdose deaths. Medical journal The Lancet predicts that 1.2 million Americans will die from opioid overdoses by 2029.

U.S. officials blame Mexican cartels for smuggling the synthetic painkiller across the southern border and China for producing the chemicals necessary to make the drug.

White Americans are more likely to misuse these types of drugs than other races. Adults aged 35-44 experience the highest rates of deaths, although deaths among younger people are surging. Rural America has been particularly hard hit; a 2017 study by the National Farmers Union and the American Farm Bureau Federation found that 74% of farmers have been directly impacted by the opioid epidemic. West Virginia and Tennessee are the states most badly hit.

For writer Chris Hedges, who hails from rural Maine, the fentanyl crisis is an example of one of the many “diseases of despair” the U.S. is suffering from. It has, according to Hedges, “risen from a decayed world where opportunity, which confers status, self-esteem and dignity, has dried up for most Americans. They are expressions of acute desperation and morbidity.” In essence, when the American dream fizzled out, it was replaced by an American nightmare. That white men are the prime victims of these diseases of despair is an ironic outgrowth of our unfair system. As Hedges explained:

White men, more easily seduced by the myth of the American dream than people of color who understand how the capitalist system is rigged against them, often suffer feelings of failure and betrayal, in many cases when they are in their middle years. They expect, because of notions of white supremacy and capitalist platitudes about hard work leading to advancement, to be ascendant. They believe in success.”

In this sense, it is important to place the opioid addiction crisis in a wider context of American decline, where opportunities for success and happiness are fewer and farther between than ever, rather than attribute it to individuals. As the “Lancet” wrote: “Punitive and stigmatizing approaches must end. Addiction is not a moral failing. It is a medical condition and poses a constant threat to health.”

A “Uniquely American Problem”

Nearly 10 million Americans misuse prescription opioids every year and at a rate far higher than comparable developed countries. Deaths due to opioid overdose in the United States are ten times more common per capita than in Germany and more than 20 times as frequent in Italy, for instance.

Much of this is down to the United States’ for-profit healthcare system. American private insurance companies are far more likely to favor prescribing drugs and pills than more expensive therapies that get to the root cause of the issue driving the addiction in the first place. As such, the opioid crisis is commonly referred to as a “uniquely American problem.”

Part of the reason U.S. doctors are much more prone to doling out exceptionally strong pain medication relief than their European counterparts is that they were subject to a hyper-aggressive marketing campaign from Purdue Pharma, manufacturers of the powerful opioid OxyContin. Purdue launched OxyContin in 1996, and its agents swarmed doctors’ offices to push the new “wonder drug.”

Yet, in lawsuit after lawsuit, the company has been accused of lying about both the effectiveness and the addictiveness of OxyContin, a drug that has hooked countless Americans onto opioids. And when legal but incredibly addictive prescription opioids dry up, Americans turned to illicit substances like heroin and fentanyl as substitutes.

Purdue Pharma owners, the Sackler family, have regularly been described as the most evil family in America, with many laying the blame for the hundreds of thousands of overdose deaths squarely at their door. In 2019, under the weight of thousands of lawsuits against it, Purdue Pharma filed for bankruptcy. A year later, it plead guilty to criminal charges over its mismarketing of OxyContin.

Nevertheless, the Sacklers made out like bandits from their actions. Even after being forced last year to pay nearly $6 billion in cash to victims of the opioid crisis, they remain one of the world’s richest families and have refused to apologize for their role in constructing an empire of pain that has caused hundreds of thousands of deaths.

Instead, the family has attempted to launder their image through philanthropy, sponsoring many of the most prestigious arts and cultural institutions in the world. These include the Guggenheim Museum and the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City, Yale University, and the British Museum and Royal Academy in London.

One group who are disproportionately affected by opioids like OxyContin, heroin and fentanyl are veterans. According to the National Institutes of Health, veterans are twice as likely to die from overdose than the general population. One reason for this is bureaucracy. “The Veterans Administration did a really poor job in the past decades with their pain management, particularly their reliance on opioids,” Hoh, a former marine, told MintPress, noting that the V.A. prescribed dangerous opioids at a higher rate than other healthcare agencies.

Ex-soldiers often have to cope with chronic pain and brain injuries. Hoh noted that around a quarter-million veterans of Afghanistan and Iraq have traumatic brain injuries. But added to that are the deep moral injuries many suffered – injuries that typically cannot be seen. As Hoh noted:

Veterans are turning to [opioids like fentanyl] to deal with the mental, emotional and spiritual consequences of the war, using them to quell the distress, try to find some relief, escape from the depression, and deal with the demons that come home with veterans who took part in those wars.”

Thus, if the Taliban’s opium eradication program continues, it could spark a fentanyl crisis that might kill more Americans than the 20-year occupation ever did.

Broken Society

If diseases of despair are common throughout the United States, they are rampant in Afghanistan itself. A global report released in March revealed that Afghans are by far the most miserable people on Earth. Afghans evaluated their lives at 1.8 out of 10 – dead last and far behind the top of the pile Finland (7.8 out of 10).

Opium addiction in Afghanistan is out of control, with around 9% of the adult population (and a significant number of children) addicted. Between 2005 and 2015, the number of adult drug users jumped from 900,000 to 2.4 million, according to the United Nations, which estimates that almost one in three households is directly affected by addiction. As opium is frequently injected, blood-transmitted conditions like HIV are common as well.

The opioid problem has also spilled into neighboring countries such as Iran and Pakistan. A 2013 United Nations report estimated that almost 2.5 million Pakistanis were abusing opioids, including 11% of people in the northwestern province of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa. Around 700 people die each day from overdoses.

Empire of Drugs

Given their history, It is perhaps understandable that Asian nations have generally taken far more authoritarian measures to counter drug addiction issues. For centuries, using the illegal drug trade to advance imperial objectives has been a common Western tactic. In the 1940s and 1950s, the French utilized opium crops in the “Golden Triangle” region of Southeast Asia in order to counter the growing Vietnamese independence movement.

A century previously, the British used opium to crush and conquer much of China. Britain’s insatiable thirst for Chinese tea was beginning to bankrupt the country, seeing as China would only accept gold or silver in exchange. The British, therefore, used the power of its navy to force China to cede Hong Kong to it. From there, it flooded mainland China with opium grown in South Asia (including Afghanistan).

The effect of the Opium War was astonishing. By 1880, the British were inundating China with more than 6,500 tons of opium per year – the equivalent of many billions of doses. Chinese society crumbled, unable to deal with the empire-wide social and economic dislocation that millions of opium addicts brought. Today, the Chinese continue to refer to the period as the “century of humiliation”.

Meanwhile, in South Asia, the British forced farmers to plant poppy fields instead of edible crops, causing waves of giant famines, the likes of which had never been seen before or since.

And during the 1980s in Central America, the United States sold weapons to Iran in order to fund far-right Contra death squads. The Contras were deeply implicated in the cocaine trade, fuelling their dirty war through crack cocaine sales in the U.S. – a practice that, according to journalist Gary Webb, the Central Intelligence Agency facilitated.

Imperialism and illicit drugs, therefore, commonly go together. However, with the Taliban opium eradication effort in full effect, coupled with the uniquely American phenomenon of opioid addiction, it is possible that the United States will suffer significant blowback in the coming years. The deadly fentanyl epidemic will likely only get worse, needlessly taking hundreds of thousands more American lives. Thus, even as Afghanistan attempts to rid itself of its deadly drug addiction problem, its actions could precipitate an epidemic that promises to kill more Americans than any of Washington’s imperial endeavors to date.

Feature photo | Illustration by MintPress News

Alan MacLeod is Senior Staff Writer for MintPress News. After completing his PhD in 2017 he published two books: Bad News From Venezuela: Twenty Years of Fake News and Misreporting and Propaganda in the Information Age: Still Manufacturing Consent, as well as a number of academic articles. He has also contributed to FAIR.org, The Guardian, Salon, The Grayzone, Jacobin Magazine, and Common Dreams.

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