#australian rememberance day

[waywardsou2]

Happy Remembrance Day to everyone

It's important that we remember what we lost the 106 years ago to appreciate what we have now

That doesn't mean the fighting ever stops

There are wars going on everywhere.

People who still don't have what they need to lead a good life

Our soldiers and veterans did all they could

But some people are still fighting battles. And not just with a guns and bombs

Happy Remembrance from an Australian whose family was on both sides of the war

[whats-the-word-again]

Rememberance Day 2024

Each year I like to take time out of my day on this day to refelct, mourn, and research on the fallen and forgotten soldiers that died in not only WWI but in any conflict. Today however, my scheduele has not allowed me to do so, barely being able to have a one minute silence. So instead, I thought I'd share this small post of commemoration; Lord Ares on my shoulder this time.

Remembrance Day is one of the most important days on our commemorative calendar. It's a day when we acknowledge those who died or suffered while serving in wars, conflicts and peace operations. Remembrance Day is held on 11 November each year. This is the anniversary of the Armistice of 1918 that ended fighting in World War I. The war didn't officially end until 28 June 1919 with the Treaty of Versailles. People in Australia and many other countries observe one minute's silence at the 11 th hour of the 11 th day of the 11 th month because that's when the Armistice came into effect. It's a time to honour our service personnel who died or suffered in service of Australia. - https://anzacportal.dva.gov.au/themes/custom/commemorations/favicon.ico

The Ode: "They shall grow not old as we who are left grow old: Age shall not weary them, nor the years condem. At the going down of the sun and in the morning We will remember them."

-'For the Fallen' [this verse is merely a section of the full poem, but this is what is most commonly said at events] Poem by Robert Laurence Binyon (1869-1943), published in The Times newspaper on 21 September 1914.

Read the full poem here:

https://www.army.gov.au/about-us/history-and-research/traditions/ode

My personal favourite Rememberance Day poem is the famous 'In Flanders Feilds' by John McCrae. It never ceases to make me cry (or at least tear up).

[excuse the poor spacing]

"In Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row,     That mark our place; and in the sky     The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard amid the guns below. We are the Dead. Short days ago We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,     Loved and were loved, and now we lie,         In Flanders fields. Take up our quarrel with the foe: To you from failing hands we throw     The torch; be yours to hold it high.     If ye break faith with us who die We shall not sleep, though poppies grow         In Flanders fields."

This all being said, I wish everyone that lost someone dear to them in any war or conflict or act of violence is well and healing; and is allowing space to feel the emotions that come with grief.

I also believe it is a time to reflect upon ourselves and the present. Service people put themselves on the line for a better world, and they continue to, we should honour them. However, we should not need soldiers in the first place; although victims of war and violence do, the acts themselves hold no space in my heart. No oil, land, profit, business, religion, sexuality, race, gender, or anything should result in mass amounts of senseless violence, because well, it's just senseless. No innocent person deserves these attrocities.

My heart goes out to those in Gaza / Palestine, in Congo, in Lebannon, and in all other places where war, conflict, slavery, and discrimination is rife. This now too includes America since the recent election results.

Although donations and volunteer work is AMAZING. Being just an advocate or sharing information is essential as well and helps just as much; it spread it to the people who CAN make those big world decisions, it spread it to people who CAN donate, who CAN volunteer. So even if you can give money or too much time, which neither can I, please just spend even a few minutes to research or spread awareness, that too helps.

In conclusion; War sucks. It has no place in the world.

LEST WE FORGET

[zonkutonshorrifyingpeenie]

I saw a mate lamenting about Australian culture and how we "don't have any" and it filled me with such profound sadness for modern Australia and how blinded we are to our own unique customs, cultures, and norms that I'm just going to bloody fire off a list of all the Purely Aus (to my knowledge/pretty eastern coast bias) culture quirks I can rattle of the top of my head.

Bunnings/hardware outlets. Yes, as much as it's a joke, that IS a legitimate part of our culture. We've built entire bloody Rites Of Passage around the damn place, to say that it's not an Australian culture is untrue At Best.

AFL. Literally our Native/National Fucking Sport. You look me directly in the eye and tell me that Aussie Rules Football isn't Australian culture and try not to sound like a damn fool.

The Australian car/hotrod scenes. Some of the most beautiful, and beautifully bonkers vehicles come from our car scenes, and most of them come from old-mate hobby garages.

POSSUM MAGIC AND WOMBAT STEW!

LITERALLY ALL OF OUR FOOD CULTURES!? Milo, Spiders, Prawn Cocktails, our native Game Meats, Cask Wine and all the rituals we've grown around that, fuckn Vegemite need I go on?

Our language itself!? Hello!? Australian English is its own damn language! I could go on about our specific nuances for hours I swear to god.

Our farming practices. While mostly and similarly drafted from Scottish and Irish farms, Australian Livestock farms operate on a scale and style so beautifully unique to us.

Bushfire Season. For better or much much worse, our bushfires are ingrained into our land and our lives, as is the national solidarirty and struggle that comes with them.

ANZAC Day memorials and Parade (TODAY!!!). A somber day for the country today and forever, even though the last "actually there" vet passed years upon years ago now. A day of rememberance for what was a stupid mistake of a operation. Maybe I'm a tad more biased than most having done AAFC and having done multiple ANZAC services during that time.

Australia has So Much to offer in terms of food, culture, mirth and merriment! This is just off the top of my head! Australian culture exists!! Please!!

[lazorbeanz]

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:

Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.

At the going down of the sun and in the morning

We will remember them.

Lest We Forget

- Ode of Rememberance

To any other Australians or New Zealanders on here…Happy ANZAC day 🫡🇳🇿🇦🇺

[matsukawamatt]

Melbourne

I said I probably wouldn't post here, and I don't plan on posting too much but figured I'd give a bit of a life update. I guess not so much has changed, but I have finally settled down in Melbourne -- a suburb called Blackburn -- and I am looking for work and trying to find my own peace and figure myself out. I'm not as depressed as I was, well, I AM depressed but just not so low. Its still pretty bad, objectively, but I think the low point may be past. I'm trying to find new hobbies and things I enjoy.

In the past few months I've been reading a lot. Not as much as I'd like to, as I can't really focus and my attention span has turned to shit, but reading nonetheless. My New Year's was pretty good and I had a lot of fun. I sort of just forgot the world around me and enjoyed myself for a while. Paid $200 for tickets to this 1920's themed party with burlesque and jazz. Talked to quite a few people and made some acquantainces. Two minutes before midnight a girl I was talking to, Sarah, probably mid-forties, asked me to make out with her for the new year. So I did just that. Pretty funny way to ring in 2024. I took a picture with the burlesque chicks, and "went outside for air", where I swiftly made my way back to the hotel so that I wouldn't have to give my number or contact info. Of course, I messaged Emily, as I have for the past 6 years (I messaged her Happy New Year even when I was with Katie last year, actually.) She responded a quick 24 hours later. I'm still pretty destroyed about this loss. I'm more distraught than I've ever been for the loss of any friendship or relationship. I guess losing Emily was something that I never prepared myself for. I think I've mentioned it before, but we spoke nearly every day for 6 years (minus the time with Katie, where it was very sporadic messaging). I still remember how upset she was when I opened up to her about my relationship with her. Maybe thats when our trust between eachother began to erode? I don't think I've told any person, woman or man, about as much as I have with Emily. For as long as I've had this Tumblr, she was there and we spent many long nights talking on facetime. I can't help but think of all of these pleasant memories. Unfortunately now, that is all over with. Maybe its just temporary, or maybe it is permanent, but at least I have our long-distance memories. I had hoped and prayed that we would spend this new years together, or really any part of Australian summer together, but I've accepted in the past few days that this is not going to happen. It can't really happen. I feel emotionless writing this, and I think that's a good thing. Up until new years, if I were to write this, I'd probably be holding back tears with each press of the keyboard.

I've come to also realize, or think, that I was actually nothing to Emily. We met in Melbourne at the Shrine of Rememberance once in 2017, and from then on we were in eachother's lives virtually. I don't believe I was ever real to her. As much as she would jokingly tell me she would marry me or loved me, I think part of me wanted that to be true. When she invited me to stay with her and told her family about me, especially the things her nan said to her, I really wanted things to happen with her. I thought she cared about me -- and maybe she does? I don't know. Maybe I've been too much. I have never been more certain of the fact that I am in love with this girl. I have been for years, and I think thats why I cut communication off when I was with Katie. In my heart, I knew I wanted her. And now that I'm in Australia, alone, and spending the holidays pretending it is just another day, I am forced to try not to think of her. But how is that possible? I tell everyone I came here to have a working holiday, but I can't help but truly feel that I came here to be with her. To spend time with her after all of those years of rhetoric. Its quite sad. I mean, she wouldn't even be open with me when we arrived in Parkes and she just got real... nasty. Again, no sense in trying to analyze any of this at all. It just sucks. The other day I got drunk and tried talking to her (on Christmas) I called and texted and she basically told me that this is why she needs space. I get it, but I was alone on a day that we had talked about spending together for years? How was I not supposed to feel anything? I don't think its wrong for me to want to talk to her? All of these things I'm writing should've been processed already and I fear I'm getting stuck in this loop. How long will I be stuck here? In most other relationships, I'd have moved on from most of this by now. But THIS long? Its not good. I think part of me wants her to be this bad person, but I KNOW she is not a bad person. Which leads me to believe that I am the problem. But, how? I've thought a lot about this and I know sometimes I am just too much, but I can't be the whole problem. I keep blaming myself. I even asked her if she could recognize that it wasn't all me that caused our falling out and she refused to admit any fault. Saying she had done nothing wrong in the past month and a half, since Parkes, but request space. I've given her space and then SHE reached out re-uninviting me to Christmas. I didn't talk to her for nearly two weeks -- and I know that doesn't sound very long -- but when you're in a country all by yourself, jobless, and homeless, there really isnt much else to think about. I fucked off around New South Wales for weeks, just waiting around to see what would happen with her. I was going to settle in Wollongong so that I could be close to her, and then this falls apart so what was the next plan? I had none. I just decided to come back to the city that made me most happy -- and unfortunately, that city is where I met HER. So she STILL remains on my mind. How fucked up is that? On a seperate point, my housemates are complete fucking weirdos, so thats great too. Well, Joel isn't so bad, but he's definitely a bit awkward. All I have to look forward to right now is finding some good stable work and my Noah Kahan concert on the 17th. I don't even have much interest in meeting anyone. I'm just real tired man. I need to take these social media detoxes seriously. I'm using Tumblr just for a seperate part of rambling and journalling so it doesn't even really count. I'd post some photos but I really can't be fucked to pick my phone up. Just sticking with the laptop for now. Will these posts ever get more positive? I need to figure this shit out man.

[ibelieveinturtles]

Australian here, I'd say it's similar to ANZAC Day or Rememberance Day but for small, local fantasy Bastille Day.

Pratchett help?

As lilac season approaches, I was trying to explain the Glorious 25th of May to a friend who has limited knowledge of Discworld. Aside from the obvious–handing someone a copy of NIGHT WATCH–how would you describe the significance of the date without referencing characters or plot?

I tried: It is kind of an anniversary of a battle, but it’s so much more. It’s about ordinary people banding together to take a stand, about fighting for decency, about a mixture of idealism and cynicism that creates a sustainable hope, about wanting to go home so badly you ache but staying to see something vital through for a larger cause, about honoring people who died for the wrong reasons and the right causes all mixed up in one… 

But what would you say? Thanks in advance!

[thewondermentofillustration]

ANZAC Day, April 20, 1922

Too soon is quenched the altar flame; Too soon we lose the dew of youth; Our soiled wings drage the ground in shame. Leave on brave truth, One living pride, one deathless name!

Oh years that rob us they flee, That dull the gleam and steel the thrill, That grudge us even Memory, Take what you will, But leave us still One epic page - Gallipoli!

Anzac! The name holds magic rare! The futures thrilling battle-cry! And boys unborn red Death will dare Because that name, In living flame, Deep-graven on their hearts will wear.   -- Emily Bulcock, Queensland.

[stan4th19th]

The local war memorial got a refurbishment just in time for Rememberance Day. The initiative was by the local sub-branch of the RSL.

[lazdona]

One of the first ANZAC Day processions in Brisbane, Australia, 1916. It is a day of rememberence for Australian and New Zealander soldiers, originally designated for the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps (ANZACs) who landed at Gallipoli. Source https://ift.tt/2RJwhLF

[sergeant-donny-donowitz]

Meant to Be (DonnyxReader)

@owba-chan​ @war-obsessed​ @inglourious-imagines​ @tealaquinn​

Let me know if  you wanna be added to the taglist! :) Requested by @cybernobody44

The boys muttered and cursed under their breaths as they marched through some mud on the outskirts of the forest. Their vulgar and amusing strings of words becoming frosty breaths in the winter evening.

There was an agent that the OSS had let the British intelligence "borrow". And now the basterds needed that agent for a mission, or two.

Hrischberg muttered, "I don't see why we gotta have this spy tag along. We've been doin' fine on our own!"

Omar nodded, "I hope he's not snobby about being an agent and being smart and all that."

Hugo huffed, "Unlikely." He mostly didn't feel like dealing with one more person than he already had to.

The basterds crossed into the empty back alleys of a questionable side of a small French town.

Smitty narrowed his eyes, making out the dark figures of shadier characters scattered about and slinking around in the shadows. "Aldo? How are we supposed to know who our contact is?"

Aldo was glad to hear something that wasn't a complaint...for the first time in a week. The only thing keeping him sane by then was his supply of tobacco, which was running dangerously low.

He sighed as he turned around, "Two allied airmen will be escortin' our spy."

Wicki raised an eyebrow. "Allied airmen? Under what flag?"

Smitty nodded, "Yeah? Canadian? British? Australian? Soviets? Brazilian? It could be any-"

Aldo sighed as he sat down, and inhaled the last of his snuff, hoping the newcomer would be a peacekeeper among them. "They don't fuckin’ tell me shit, son."

The basterds stood around, hoping their silence would draw less unwanted attention.

About an hour passed...

Omar narrowed his eyes, having an ear for accents, as he found three figures appraoching them. "Fuck...it's the tommy's."

The basterds groaned in annoyance, as they heard one of the airmen muttering under his breath, "Bloody hell...it's the yanks!"

As they came into the clearing, light from a shattered street lamp revealed the spy.

And it stopped Donny's heart.

He whispered, astounded, "Holy shit...it's her..."

Smitty turned to Donny in confusion, "Her?"

Omar followed in confusion, "Who's 'her'?"

Wicki, Aldo, Hugo, and Hirschberg turned to Donny. Analyzing the loosness in his stance, the loss of words in his parted lips, and the sheer panic in his eyes.

Her...

From the stories Donny had told them about you, the way he once lovingly and painfully drew your face with his words, they knew what you looked like...

Hugo looked to the two younger basterds... and murmured, "Her..."

The last time Donny saw you was back in 1941...

Pearl Harbor had just been bombed.

Stories about nazi Germany, and millions of broken, tear-stained, blood stained, stories made their way across the Atlantic.

The US had just declared war.

Donny had enlisted without hesitation. He had a baseball bat, signed with names of people he needed to avenge...

And there you stood, by his side, just as you had for years...

He didn't want you there anymore.

He looked down at you, his thumb pressed against your cheek. You were no longer what he wanted most in the world... At least, that's what he made you think.

He loved you more than anything, more than his own life, but he thought it was selfish to keep you tied down.

Especially if he didn't know if he'd ever come home...

The most painful part of it was seeing the love still in your eyes behind the broken depth of the world he'd built with you... He'd built up the courage to say goodbye to you, forever because he thought it would be easier if he saw that world in your eyes collapse and go up in flames. But he was wrong. Dead wrong. Your eyes were the same eyes that had loved him for years, and probably would for a million more.

You saw the reflection of that very love and life in his eyes.

He still loved you... You knew that, and that's what made it worse...

All you could manage to do was whisper a broken, "Why?"

Donny lied.

He lied blatantly to you, and to himself.

"It never would have worked out between us, doll, I'm sorry..."

You shook your head softly as tears streamed down your face, pleading quietly. Begging him to rethink everything with two simple words. Words he'd only listen from you, words only you could string together to break his heart, "Donny, baby..."

He looked down at you, the pain of his torn heart taking over his eyes...

He would never tell you why.

And you knew that....

On December 6th, 1941,  Donny was sneaking away from you, and hiding around the shops in downtown Boston, looking for the perfect ring. He wanted you by his side for the rest of his life. He wanted more than anything in the world to make you his wife...

Everything changed on December 7th.

On December 8th, the US entered the war. And Donny enlisted. He finally had a chance to make things right, for his family, his people, and every single name on the bat he'd gotten signed that morning. At that moment, that was what he wanted most: justice...

Justice...

He loved you, more than he loved anything else in the world, but it wasn't right to give you the ring then.

Not when there was a chance you would have to bury him in a coffin wrapped in a flag...

But you didn't know all that.

And you knew he'd never tell you any of it.

You just nodded, tears still streaming down your face as you stepped away from him. You turned your back on Donny Donowitz that night. Something that nobody ever did. You didn't answer the phone when he finally wanted you to know why. You didn't open the door when he wanted to say goodbye...

That was goodbye enough for you. Years passed, and somehow, there you were.

It was January, 1944...

Hugo nudged Donny rather crudely, and he snapped out of it.

Your hair was tied up with a bandana. You wore a jumpsuit, and boots. You packed a gun, a knife, and cigarettes. You stood at attention, saluting Aldo, your current lieutenant.

You were introduced to the other basterds...

You looked at Donny, and nodded once, without a trace of the past in your eyes as you acknowledged your sergeant, "Sergeant Donowitz."

Donny clenched his jaw... He never thought he'd hear your voice again. He'd never heard your voice so neutral...

So loveless...

He'd never heard you call him by his last name.

He didn't know what to call you... He couldn't call you doll anymore.

You weren't his.

You were a spy under the MI6, agent under the OSS, a soldier under the allies, and as of that moment, a basterd.

You were a hero and a fighter in your own right.

You weren't his.

He nodded once after faltering for a milisecond, "Private..." He trailed off, unable to even call you by your last name after calling you so many beautiful names for years. Things you'd never expect a boy like Donny Donowitz to have known...

You managed to keep the bare minimum of contact with him for the next few days. Seeing those eyes, hearing that same old voice... It was almost too much for you...

And seeing you, seeing what he lost, what he once wanted more than anything...

It was too painful for him,..

The night before your mission, the basterds were sitting around a campfire, drinking and laughing...

At some point, you and Donny made eye contact.

And for a moment...there was something. The flicker of an ember. A distant memory, echoing from the beat of his heart...

You blinked and turned away... It was the last thing you needed.

Feelings.

You bade the basterds goodnight, and slipped away,

You were just inside your tent when you heard a slight shuffle behind you. You would've thought nothing of it if you weren't a spy.  But you knew better. You knew it was him.

"Y/n...I can explain..."

His voice was soft. It was almost a whisper. It was urgent, and stern, like a sergeant's. But it was candid enough to hear the droning guilt and pain in his heart.

"And what makes you think I want an explanation?" You turned, you faced him, and looked him in the eyes, scorn sculpting the expression in your face.

He looked at you, seeing through a spy's act. He looked at you, not the double or triple identities you held around the world to shield yourself from what could have been. His head tilted slightly, as he murmured, "It's harder to love someone that's dead than to hate someone who's alive..."

You unclenched your jaw. You lowered your arms. Your fists opened. Your eyes lowered.

You understood then...

That was why he broke up with you.

To Donny, the hardest part of all of that was leaving you. He loved you, and had loved you all along.

You took a breath, and admitted something you couldn't have admitted to yourself a day sooner, or perhaps a moment later.  "I don't...I don't hate you."

The  light of a bright white cloud, every color of the sunrise, every simple joy in life was shining through Donny's eyes at that moment, as he looked at you with all the hope a soldier could have. "You still love me..."

In that moment, it broke you to see he never stopped loving you.

What was worse was that you didn't know what you felt for him. A love lost to tears, years before...

"Honestly, Donny...I don't know..."

He knew you. You weren't a liar. He could tell that was the best you could do, and he admired you for it...

You shook your head before anything more was unburied, "We... we have a long mission tomorrow," and stepped forward, ushering him out. The ember was gone. The memories were meaningless. "Goodnight, sergeant."

But he noted the false frigidity in your cold words when he saw the longing and rememberance in your eyes. *****

The mission went as planned, and the OSS sanctioned another one. Then another. And another. You were to stay with the basterds until further notice. Nearly a year passed...

The basterds ambushed a patrol, and held five nazis captive, hoping one of them would tell them more than what they needed to know.

As you all knew, the basterds weren't in the prisoner taking business...

As you waited around for Aldo's threats to take effect, Wicki's translations, and Donny's 'show,' you and Smitty got along well...

A little too well, for Donny's liking.

He eyed you from behind the line of nazis.

He glared at Smitty...his bat fell to the ground, as he trudged through the melting snow.

You knew that look...

He was jealous.

And when Donny Donowitz was jealous, no one was safe. Smitty froze up, only able to move his eyes...and he mistakenly looked up at Donny. Smithson Utivich had never been more afraid in his life than he was at that moment.

Donny ripped Smitty away from the boulder he was sitting on with you. Donny's fists were clenched around Smitty's sweater. "YOU'RE GONNA TALK TO Y/N LIKE THAT?! IN FRONT OF ME?! YOU'RE GONNA TALK TO MY GIRL LIKE THAT?! HUH?!"

The basterds piled onto Donny, trying to pry him away from Utivich, but they couldn't move him.

Not even Aldo's orders worked...

Only one thing in the world could make him listen.

"Donovan." Your voice was stern, demanding like only yours could be. But it was familiar, and almost loving. One that he had known many years before...

Once, when he was younger.

He immediately let go of Smitty... He slowly looked beyond the basterds, and met your eyes.

Everyone was silent...

Then Aldo cleared his throat, and suggested the basterds get right back to business.

You eyed Donny, as he muttered a questionable apology to Smitty, and patted him on the chest twice, attempting to roughly and quickly patch up their friendship.

He went back, and took up the bat.

You watched as Donny disposed of each nazi that Aldo deemed useless. Smitty....well...he kept his distance from you for about a month or two after that.

You watched Donny raise his bat, just as you had amillion times before. Some things never change...

You watched as a spray of nazi blood shot onto nearby trees, and brain matter leaked onto the snow below.

You cleared your throat, and shifted a little as you watched Donny. It was impressive.

Donny was an impressive man, to say the least... After everything, even you couldn't deny that...

You looked away, fearing the things in your heart that might return if you looked too long at him. And just like that, the basterds had the information they needed. Aldo marked a lone survivor with a swastika on his forehead. The basterds took the rest of the night off... You were rummaging through supplies, taking inventory for no reason. You just wanted to avoid any other sudden bouts of jealousy and misunderstandings. But of course, the buckets of water you kept in your camp were just beside the supplies. And of course, Donny felt like washing off some blood after that. You knew him all too well. His grunts and muttering made you lose track over and over until you set down your paper, and looked at him, "Why're you mad now?!" He had been splashing water on his face. He was startled hearing you speak to him first... He wiped the water away with his forearm, and turned to you, unexpectedly reproaching you, "You called me Donovan in front of them!" You kept your temper as you cooly remarked, "And you called me yours." "No I..." He narrowed his eyes as he made a futile denial, "I didn't..." Knowing damn well he did. He sighed as you looked back at the paper where you kept track of the inventory. You thought about Donny's Freudian slip... How he called you his after all that time... You looked at him, and thought of when you called him yours... You saw him joining Aldo and Omar by the fire. You looked down at your paper as you sighed and thought, "Some things never change, Donny baby..." ******* A few months passed... The basterds were ambushed by a group of nazis in the forest. You were all split up and cut off from any viable and possible escape routes, from your ammunitions, and from each other. You and Donny were cornered by two separate groups of nazis, and pushed together. So... It was you and Donny against the world, just as it used to be.

In the midst of the blood and the bullets, you and Donny fumbled into each other. He practically enveloped you in his arms, and pulled you down to the ground behind a dense line of trees, saving you from gunfire. His arms were wrapped around you protectively, and he fell on top of you. His cheeks were flaming red in embarassment. He looked down at you for a moment by accident, and his heart fluttered seeing the same eyes looking up at him from years before. It was as if nothing ever changed... You giggled a little, seeing his embarassment and remarked, "Donovan, darling, I'm sorry but it never would have worked out between us." He smirked a little, knowing damn well he never should have worded it like that years ago,  as he pulled you back to your feet, and you got back to the firefight... Seeing as the results may be bleak, Donny turned to you, and started shooting at the enemies lining behind you through the trees. He gritted his teeth as he looked away from the nazis, and to you for a moment, "Y/n. I can't do this anymore. I want you back and you want me back. No more games."

You looked at him with a smirk and a squint as you aimed your shotgun to a nazi approaching behind him. You took a shot, looked up at him with a smirk and remarked, "Apology accepted."

He saw the laugh caught in your smile, and he saw your forgiving and loving eyes and the cheeky grin.

He smiled softly, and looked at you, silently but visibly wondering if you meant it. Suddenly, his eyes went wide with realization at something you didn't quite catch on to yet. Donny took you in his arms, he held you, and he spun you over, taking your place, as he shot a round at the remaining nazis.

You didn't understand yet. He looked down at you, perhaps for the last time, and kissed you. You kissed him back... You assumed the love and passion that went into it was to make up for the years that were lost. It wasn't until you felt the warm blood pooling through the back of his shirt, soaking your hand over his back.

"Donny?!" You pulled your head away from his chest and looked up at him. His eyes were glazed over with dullness and pain, but you could still see your reflection in them. The love of his life.

He exhaled shakily as his knees buckled. You held onto him tightly, lowering him down gently, as the basterds started emerging from corners and bends of the forest. *** Donny was bandaged up, laying against the backboard of dusty, ancient mattress, in a hidden attic from one of your contact's homes. A medic working under the French resistance was called for Donny under the mask of the night. Donny, feverish from the bloodloss, pain, and fear of losing you, started to get up, "I need to see her!" The medic had just finished sewing up Donny's wound. Donny blacked out before he was sure all the nazis was dead. He wanted to make sure you were alright. Aldo’s word was not good enough for him. "Stay down, Donny!" Aldo stopped pacing back and forth as Hugo and Omar held Donny down. He hadn't stopped screaming in pain as the medic pulled the bullet out of his back, without any medication. Wicki was ordered to stay downstairs with you and the contact, and make sure you didn't go upstairs. Smitty and Hirschberg were stationed at the doors to make sure no one followed. You had sat with the contact, an elderly French woman who's seven grandchildren were fighting in the war, or with the resistance. She tried her best to comfort and distract you, but nothing could tear your mind away from Donny's muffled screams. You understood everything then. That was why he didn't want to stay in your life... This was exactly why... You heard heavy, slow boots stepping on the creaking, ancient ladder from the attic. You were tense... It felt like the whole night passed waiting for the news to reach the bottom of the steps. Hugo cleared his throat, and you stood up. Hirschberg peered in from the door. Omar stood at the top of the steps. You rushed to Hugo, looking for a sign, but you couldn't read him. He looked at you, forced to go downstairs by Aldo to tell you that, "Donny is alright." You took a breath, and sighed, smiling, clasping your hands over your lips. Hugo acknowledged what Donny had done for you...frankly Hugo'd never admit it, but he thought you were sweet together. Unbearable as he found other people, somehow seeing you and Donny together amused him. "He always gets dramatic when he's hurt." You nodded with a reminiscent smile, "Oh, I know." He walked back upstairs with you. You and Donny looked at each other... He was sweating from the hack job surgery, and running a low fever, but he would alright. And he smiled, when he saw you. He stopped fighting against Omar and laid back the moment he heard your footsteps coming up the stairs. Aldo sniffed some tobacco, walked past you, and gestured to Donny, "Humor him, would ya, Y/n?" You smiled and nodded, though it hurt you to see him like that. That bullet was meant for you... "Y/n, come here..." Donny reached out for you, his fist was balled around something. Aldo cleared his throat, catching the rest of the basterds' attention. Everyone grumbled as they filed downstairs with him, leaving you alone with him. "Donny?" You sat by him, laying your hand against his face, noting the fever. "You're gonna be ok." He nodded, but that didin't mean he didn't have a lot to say.  He took your hand, and put something in your palm, and closed your fingers around it, "This is yours." You opened your hand and found a beautiful silver ring, with what seemed like a million stars from the night sky, studded over it. You didn't understand. You thought he lost his mind. Maybe he'd found it somewhere, and was just delirious at the moment... You'd never even seen such a beautiful ring in your life. You shook your head, trying to give it back to him. He refused. "It's always been yours. My heart's always been yours, doll..." "Don, you lost a lot of blood, you're not..." You took a breath, "You don't know what you're saying." He smiled at you, "This is the only time I've been sure about what I was saying. I know you might have moved on...and I just want you to be happy But I need you to know, this was meant for you, and I'm sorry I left the day I should have given it to you." You looked at him, and realized what he meant. "Donny, baby..." "I was going to ask you to be my wife three years ago...then..." You nodded and spoke softly, "Then we went to war." "I didn't want you to be a widow. I  just wanted to save you from this." He sighed, in defeat, "From myself..." You smiled a little, as you held the side of his face, "Some things were just meant to happen, Donny." He looked up at you, his eyes reflecting his confusion. "I'm still here," You smiled softly. He nodded, smiling, "You're still here..." as he watched you slip the ring onto your left ring finger. Some things really were just meant to be. In the end, not even a war could keep you apart. You kissed him... You'd always be there, and with that kiss, Donny knew it to be true.

[isadora-greenhall]

so.

i’m ridiculously excited.

the palace letters have been released, which pertain to the whitlam dismissal on rememberance day 1975. the dismissal/constitutional crisis has always been my favourite part of australian history, almost entirely i’ll admit because of whitlam’s badass fucking speech on the steps of old parliament house lmfao. “well may we say god save the queen...because nothing will save the governor-general” and “kerr’s cur” are probably the only quotes from any australian politician i actually know lol.

i’m gonna waste some time today reading the letters lol. this is my goddamn shit

[glittercrows]

repost from my own fb post

“To forget the victims means to kill them a second time. So I couldn’t prevent the first death. I surely must be capable of saving them from a second death” – Elie Wiesel

yesterday, in my time zone, was holocaust rememberance day, marking 74 years since auschwitz was finally liberated. under the nazi regime, 6 million jews were murdered, as well as millions more romani, other poc, disabled, and lgbt people in order to achieve some sort of twisted racial 'purity'.

but this year, i also pondered how this day of remembering genocides and hoping they will never happen again is the day after 'australia day'. this reminded me the nazi branch of fascism isnt the only one to have caused such horrifying genocides. i remember the genocides of indigenous australian, american, polynesian, etc peoples at the hands of european colonists (james cook and columbus may have been expert navigators, but they and those who succeeded them were also rapists and murderers), i remember the armenian genocide only about 20 years before the holocaust, i remember the irish potato famine, and i remember china's history of religious and ethnic genocides which continues today.

i also recall even more happening today: the trump administration, with what are basically child concentration camps littering the us-mexico border, the middle eastern conflicts orchestrated by western governments, and the dozens of refugee crises worldwide.

if we forget the holocaust, history will keep repeating itself. humanity is nothing without its religious, ethnic, cultural, and gender/sexuality diversity. please don't forget.

[airlock]

maybe it’s the autism, but this post got me curious, actually. why do people call for these moments of silence? where did this tradition start? I figured that all might be something worth doing a little research on, instead of just coming up with my own personal theories about it

this is where I’m pumping on the readmore, though, becuase, well... I dug deep and I’m going to be rambling.

the very first recorded instances of the Moment of Silence (TM) appear in 1912, seemingly fully formed but for the duration (it was typical to call for ten minutes of silence, rather than the one minute that’s most commonly seen these days). the very first one appears in Senate of Portugal, to mourn the death of the Baron of Rio Branco (strange to me, given that, as illustrious as he was, he was an important figure in Brazilian history and this was 90 years after Brazil seceded from Portugal -- but, well, this is going to be long enough without me running off to chase tangents like these); later in that same year of 1912, swathes of places in the United States would hold a 10-minute moment silence to mourn the victims of the USS Maine and Titanic disasters.

whatever the initial blips, though, what really gave the Moment of Silence the identity and frequency that it has today was a little event, just a few years later, which would bring with it a previously unimaginable amount of death -- World War I. Australian journalist Edward George Honey, discharged from the army in 1915 as medically unfit, chose dedicate himself to war coverage from then on -- with the result that he had become intimately familiar with each batch of corpses that was being sent home month after month. in 1918, the war was over and the Allies had won, but as Honey watched people on the streets break into raucous cheer, he couldn’t seem to let it distract his mind from the incalculable price that this victory had cost.

and so, in May 1919, in a newspaper and under a penname, he wrote:

Can we not spare some fragment of these hours of Peace, rejoicing for a silent tribute to these mighty dead?

Individually yes! Too many of us know we will for our own kith and kin, for the friend who will never come back. But nationally?

I would ask for five minutes, five little minutes only. Five silent minutes of national remembrance. A very sacred intercession.

his simple request didn’t quite catch on right away, but a few months later, figures in places of higher authority started calling for these silences -- not five minutes, but two; what will eventually get shortened down to one minute somewhere down the line.

so far, this speaks to a couple things. the foremost is that it would seem as if holding Moments of Silence in private settings had already long been a thing since before 1919 -- “individually yes”, as Honey notes. the part where it becomes a formal, institutional thing, is tied right up with war memorials. war memorials, which I wouldn’t say are an inherently false thing, but do tend to be deeply tainted by nationalistic pageantry. so I think that’s one important pillar of where we are now: the Moment of Silence as a thing that formal instutions call for is in dialogue with the general millieu of military rememberances. we’ve certainly expanded the thing far beyond just due to dead soldiers, but I think it’s fair to say that, in official contexts, the idea is to offer up tribute in much the same way one would to military casualties.

there’s the other thing, though -- note how Honey refers to this as a sacred intercession, right there at the end. a lot seems to indicate that, prior to the officially recorded instances, the first places to which we can really start tracking down these public Moments of Silence are churches. the Moment of Silence almost certainly has religious roots, if not sometimes an outright religious implication that remains to this very day.

there exists a tradition among Quakers (a protestant christian vertex of crucial historical significance) of silent prayer. this is not quite to be confused with the Moment of Silence; the idea isn’t that people should be restrained from speaking during these prayers -- just that there’s no need for a priest to be leading the prayer as everyone else follows along; that one should simply pray individually, as silently or as noisily as they wish to. in that regard, for them, holding a silence was a way to prevent the loudest person around from taking over the prayer, to give everyone their own individual space. at some point down the line, the Moment of Silence escaped from this specific context, but one could easily argue that the fundamental idea remained that the implied thing to be doing in such times is prayer. theorically, you’d be allowed to do whatever you wish with your silence, but like, come on; if you call for a Moment of Silence, it follows that you have some expectation as to what people are supposed to be doing with it.

I didn’t quite go all in on this part of it, but there even appears to have been a bit of a kerfuffle in the United States with the matter of republican legislators pushing for “a moment of silence” becoming a daily ritual in schools. not in remembrance of any particular persons or events, just, a daily moment of silence. if asked what for, the politicians will say that it’s for contemplation, or study, or prayerhahahahahaaaaaa forget I just said that. as best or poorly as they tried to hide it, though, the idea blatantly calls constitutionality into question, as it’s a subtle breach of church/state separation; it’s not exactly as if there’s any particular thing in schools presently preventing children from praying if they wish to (... on the exceedingly rare occasion that they would wish to, being children), so an enforced Moment of Silence doesn’t seem to serve much of a clear purpose beyond wrangling everyone who wasn’t thinking of breaking into prayer this morning. I’m not sure where that debacle has ended up (it’s not super recent -- the first formal proposition comes in 1981 with, oh guess who, fucking Ronald Reagan), but I’m sure the plenty of USAmericans in this webbed site would most likely be happy and eager to come in like a wrecking ball sharing any pertinent personal experiences/news, so, I may as well just make room for that.

long story short though, yes, the Moment of Silence has a bit of an innocent face for something that’s deeply steeped in some actually pretty specific implications. I’m not going to say that makes them inherently evil or anything of the sort, but calling for them really can be a means of pageantry and control; it’s real awkward to be the one who won’t play along, after all. so while I still think that there is ocasionally some positive use in a collective and visible gesture of solemnity, I think we can also just trust that people are able to contemplate and grieve for important things in their own damn way and time, actually.

(interestingly enough, there also exists something of a budding counter-tradition where, instead of holding a minute of silence, some people in collective situations will, either at someone’s lead or in opposition of someone’s lead, dedicate a minute to clapping and just generally making as much noise as possible. this can be seen as a way of saying “fuck your minute of silence”, but it can also be seen as a much more vibrant and alive ritual to engage in, even in the name of rememberance. what’s really somewhat amusing is that one notable instance of this Minute of Noise was Princess Diana’s funeral -- the polar opposite of the news that must be bringing the worst of the Moment of Silence to the forefront of our minds right now, if you will.)

maybe it’s the autism but has anyone else felt like the whole “moment of silence” thing is kinda stupid and performative

[naynay-twt]

Australia Day - Of Mourning

Dear Anti-Change the Date non-indigenous People of Australia,

We are not asking for an apology. Why do we need an apology for invading and colonising and theft of land? It happened. It happened to a lot of cultures unfortunately. All we want is acknowledgement. The same way you acknowledge ANCAZ Day and Gallipoli and Kokoda and Bali Bombings and the Sydney Siege and Rememberance Day. You acknowledge that it was wrong and respect days where atrocities took place. Always a minute silence. Always laying flowers and remembering those sad times.

But when we want non-indigenous Australians to acknowledge the atrocities inflicted on our people, your fellow countrymen, from the day Cook stuck the Union Jack into the ground, you tell us to move on and get over it. Why? Can’t you handle the minority and the oppressed having a go at you and your privileged ego? I’ve come across so many stupid excuses as to why on social media. When you come up with something logical, educational, factual and historical, I’ll be marching over there.

Happy Survival Day you mob

Sincerely,

An Aboriginal #ChangeTheDate supporter

[9oodshots]

April 25th, 2018 has great significance for many reasons. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 🐧 [1st Picture] From a wildlife & nature perspective, April 25th is 'World Penguin Day' & marks the start of the flightless birds’ annual migration north to where it's not so cold as winter in the Southern Hemisphere approaches. 🐧 ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 🕯️ [2nd Picture] For Australians & New Zealanders, April 25th is 'ANZAC Day' when we pay our respects to the fallen members of the Australian & NZ Military Services that have died in times of war. Lest We Forget. 🕯️ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ 😜 [3rd Picture] From a pop-culture persepective, April 25th was the 1st appearance of The Joker in Batman No.1 published in 1940; no other character has had such a monumental & diabolical effect on Batman, Gotham City & DC pop-culture in general. 😜 © ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ #penguin #penguins #worldpenguinday #worldpenguinday2018 #animals #animal #animales #nature #wildlife #animallovers #instaanimal #instawildlife #penguinawarenessday #ANZAC #ANZACs #ANZACDay #dawnservice #lestweforget #25thapril #diggers #worldwar1 #ww1 #rememberance #remembrance #ANZACCove #worldwar2 #ww2 #wwII #neverforget #neveragain (at Today in History)

[lachillbarandrestaurant]

🎖All the La Chill Crew with would like to pay a special tribute to remember a good mate to many in Lombok Malcolm Sinclair. He is grreatly missed especially today after leading the Anzac ceremony every year at La Chill Bar Senggigi, Lombok. With Anzac Day being a national day of rememberance that commemorates all Australian & New Zealanders who served & died in all wars, conflicts and peace keeping. And to honour these brave men & women and to all those who has served their countries including Lombok in the name of peace🎖 To celebrate mateship & friendship is especially important in these very trying times. Lest we forget 🇦🇺🇳🇿🇮🇩#lachillbar #lachillbarlover #anzacday2020 #anzacdaylombok #lachillbarsenggigi #senggigi #lombokisland #lachillbeachbar #lestweforget #lombokguide #senggigilombok #lombok ##rememberinggoodmates #insidelombok #lachillbarlombok #malcolmsinclair #lombokanzacdawnservice #lombokanzacday #infolombok #senggigibeach #rememberlombok #lombokhit #lombokindonesia #lachillbarandrestaurant (at La Chill Bar & Restaurant - Senggigi, Lombok) https://www.instagram.com/p/B_Yo_-6BlZr/?igshid=uqcywrxxlf06