#papa turk tells

[ayda--demir]

Family Dinner - Oct 23rd, 2022

After the week she was having, Ayda was excited to go home for Sunday dinner. It was starting to become a weekly occurrence. Being detached from her family for over two years was taking a toll on her. Her family meant everything to her, even though they saw some things differently. 

Her Ma was happy to see her; her only daughter. Her brothers still teased her, though two of them had fiances. It left a pang in her heart, but she was truly happy for them. They deserved happiness. She also knew how much her Ma wanted grandkids. It was a constant topic around the dinner table almost a decade long.

There was one that was missing. He always came to family dinners with her.

This time, it was different when she arrived. She could feel something was off when she walked through the door. Her brothers and their partners greeted her, but three were missing. She gave her Ma a hug, kissing both her cheeks. Ayda opened her mouth to ask her Ma about them. 

“Your pa would like to see you.” She squeezed Ayda’s hand, her head turning to look down the hall that led to the study. “He’s in his study.” 

Ayda’s brows crease in confusion. The only time she ever went into his study was when it was business related. 

Her face went stoic. This meant it was business and she had no idea why he would want to talk to her about any of it. She was out. They allowed her to be out. 

Ayda kissed her mother on the cheek once more and slowly made her way down the hall. A million different thoughts flashed in her head, but she came up empty. Did something happen? Her heart beat quickened. She was truly puzzled and it only seemed to make her more nervous. 

She knocks on the door.

“Come in,” Mehmet’s voice calls out a few seconds after her knock. 

She opens the door and worry hits her full force, spotting who is behind his desk with him. Standing behind her father was Hasan and Emre. She stops in her tracks and there is the part of her that wants to retreat. It wasn’t too late to step back and say that she wasn’t feeling good. Find an excuse to get out of the house. 

Take a deep breath Ayda.

This was going to be a disaster. It always was when all three were involved. 

"You wished to see me Pa." Ayda keeps her voice soft, refusing to acknowledge the other two at the moment. They were going to have their part, or here to reinforce what her father was going to tell her, she could feel it.

"Yes, have a seat. This won't take long and then we can join your mother. She's been cooking all day. I’m sure your other brothers are driving her nuts." A smile creeps on his features and it only heightens her nerves.

Cautiously she moves across the room and sits down in the empty seat in front of his desk. "I must admit, I'm not sure why we are talking in the study. It's usually business in here, and as all three of you know, I'm no longer involved." There was no point beating around the bush.

That is when she notices Emre's face falter a little, guilt seeped into his eyes. Her gaze quickly flickers to Hasan's, and it mirrors his friends.

What the fuck is going on?

"I've heard from a birdie, the company you have been keeping." His hands fold together and rest on the desk, hard dark orbs staring at her, causing her to shiver. "I am disappointed güneş çiçeği. The French, really?" His tone turns cold.

Ayda can feel her face start to burn, turning red. She wasn't ashamed of her actions. The brunette had done nothing wrong. She was free to make her own choices.

"He is nice, Papa. He treats me well." It didn't matter what she said, he would never approve of who she was unless he was a Turk and someone her Pa liked.

"Bu saçmalık." His fist comes down on the desk, some of the items on top jarring. The boys don't flinch from his actions but her body jumps in her chair, her eyes widening. "Don't play games with me. It's a disgrace to the family name. You know better." He growls. Out came the Demir temper, something she inherited. 

"I gave you space to figure it out, to come to your senses and join the family once more." He sighed, raking his fingers through his hair.

Ayda didn't move, both her hands on her knees, sitting straight. She didn't know where this was going, but she was already dreading it.

"Then what do you want from me, father." She spoke through gritted teeth. The only time she used the word father was when she wasn't happy with him. 

"Show some respect!" Mehmet barked. He knew very well why she used it. The man leaned back in his chair, both hands resting on the armrests. 

"Yes, Sir." Her tone dropped to one that sounded like a child being scolded by a parent; which was happening to her.

"Better." He looked between Hasan and Emre before looking back at her. She watched them, and they showed nothing on their face, any indication of what he might say to her.

"You have a year Ayda. Three years wasted trying to live a lifestyle that isn't for you is long enough. If you are not married by the end of said year, I will find a suitor for you." He spoke with finality in his voice.

She looked at him like she was being struck by a bus. He couldn't be serious?

"I'm sorry, I don't think I heard you." It had to be a dream. A hallucination. Her eyes pleaded with her Pa that he wasn't serious.

"One year Ayda." He repeated.

He confirmed her nightmare.

"Pa, please. That isn't fair." Ayda stood up with her hands coming to her hips.

He stood at full height, easily towering over her. Mehmet moved around the desk to stand in front of her. 

"I love you, güneş çiçeği, but I've made up my mind." He curls a finger under her chin to get her to look at him, warning in his eyes. "Choose carefully, I would hate to have to deal with an unacceptable husband." 

Ayda knew exactly what he meant. There was a side of her that would rebel, but she couldn't now. No one was worth putting at risk of death. Her mind was still trying to process what just happened.

"Now that we had this talk, let's go eat." He kissed the top of her head and made his way out of his study.

Tears swelled in her eyes once he was gone and she turned to Hasan and Emre.

"You told Pa about Olivier." Her tone was cold, almost identical like her fathers. She knew Hasan was protective of her, but she had every right to live her life the way she wanted. 

She could see that he was torn with his actions and what just happened, but they all knew not to question their father.

"You are a Demir. You should act accordingly." He shot back at her, Emre moving to his side.

"Fuck that," she countered. "I left to have my own life and now you've brought me right back in. Why did you help me in the first place?" She sneers at him, her temper starting to rise. The brunette grabs the closest thing on the desk, a stapler, and throws it at him, hitting him in the chest.

He didn’t even flinch, or try to move out of the way. Did he know that what was demanded of her was wrong? 

"I didn't want to see you do something stupid, like end your life, over an asshole that couldn't see your worth." His voice drops and concern wraps in every word he utters. He wanted her out, she didn’t deserve this lifestyle.

She isn't surprised by Hasan's words. It was Emre speaking next that shocked her.

"You were always too good for him. And the fact that he never chased after you, it tells a lot about who he is." His eyes softened when he looked at her. 

It was odd seeing Emre be this way with her and it threw her off. 

She shakes her head and her Pa's words come flooding back.

"You should have convinced him to let me choose." Both the males stay on the other side of the desk. They had dealt with a fair share of her wrath. 

Hasan goes to rebuddle but is cut off by a female voice calling out. 

"Ayda. Hasan. Emre. Let's go, the food is getting cold." It was Ma.

Does she know?

She looks back at them and narrows her eyes. "This isn't over." She huffs, flicking her hair over her right shoulder before turning on the balls of her feet, storming out of the study.

Now she had something else added on her shoulders to deal with. For now she will put on an act that nothing was wrong, for the sake of mother, but she would find a way out of this. 

[papa-turk-tells]

“...When the hurlyburly 's done, when the battle 's lost and won”. Aph Turkey, standing in a middle of battlefield, Ottoman Empire era

[ask-pakistan]

Hey Paki! Hayırlı Ramazanlar! Have a mubarek ramadan, boi *Pats his head lovely*

“I hope you are doing well.”

@papa-turk-tells

[dearaphfrance]

Can't Sleep, tho!

It’s nice to have at least one old friend who doesn’t treat me like I have the plague. I should write to him about these new ideas - changing the balance of power, exchanging protection for loyalty with our people, and what a beautiful tool terror can be.

[1793/Reign of Terror event. There’s actually a pretty interesting article on the French Revolution and the Ottoman Empire. TLDR is the Ottomans didn’t care; they basically grabbed some popcorn and watched Europe fight - only to realize their colonies thought it was a great idea to rebel some years later. @papa-turk-tells]

[ask-the-eternal-state]

Aha! Old photographs! Çok güzeller, onları sevdim ^^

//Turk “I have a couple of old photo’s lying around.. this one’s from 1800′s.. The bottom says March. I guess I had fallen asleep reading the Quran again. Ha! Teşekkür ederim! Başka bir arkadaş görmek güzel.”[Thank You! It is nice to see another friend.]

[sapphire-weapon]

IT CLICKED

I GOT IT

Rufus sees the Whispers in Shinra HQ because he’s in the process of exterminating greater Avalanche.

This is why Rufus’s reaction to and relationship with the Whispers seems so odd. They’re helping him. And he doesn’t realize it. Rufus is the only character whose reaction to seeing the Whispers for the first time isn’t to try to fight them or run away -- rather, he actually moves towards them and is so entranced by them that he’s still staring out the window long after they’re gone.

Let’s back up.

In Before Crisis (which appears to be canon-ish for the Remake, considering the reference to the assassination attempt on President Shinra and the greater organization of Avalanche as a whole), Rufus was Avalanche’s inside contact. He provided them with information on Shinra and funded their terrorist campaign.

In the Remake, Mayor Domino refers to himself as being Avalanche’s man on the inside, which initially made a bunch of Rufus fans (myself included) scratch their heads a bit. But when looking closer, it becomes pretty clear that Domino is working with Rufus to fund/assist Avalanche and undermine Papa Shinra’s administration.

However, also established in Before Crisis is the detail that Rufus never cared about Avalanche as an organization nor the fate of the planet itself. He was simply using them as pawns to murder and usurp his father.

As we can see from Rufus’s introduction, once Papa Shinra is dead, Rufus doesn’t need Avalanche anymore. He shoots down the Avalanche extraction chopper and steps onto the scene in order to personally declare face-to-face that the alliance is off.

So, the order of events is:

1. Rufus puts the call out to Avalanche HQ to storm Shinra HQ and flush out the president.

2. Rufus calls Domino and tells him to assist Avalanche once they get to the building so that they can remain unseen in their journey to the top floors.

3. Cloud, Barret, and Tifa coincidentally happen to show up first, unaware of the larger plot about to take place. Domino assists them on their ascent, assuming that they’re the ones to carry out the mission at hand.

4. Rufus calls Tseng and mobilizes the Turks. Reno and Rude go to pick up Rufus, who is likely planning on pulling the trigger on his father himself while Avalanche causes chaos and creates an opening to do so.

5. Aeris is rescued.

6. Larger Avalanche (along with Wedge) arrive on scene to carry out the assassination attempt.

7. Rufus arrives on scene and very smugly makes it a point to personally give the order to arrest who he believes to be Avalanche operatives who are only there in the first place by his orders. Boss fight occurs.

8. Meanwhile, Tseng is searching for President Shinra, unaware that he’s already dead at this time.

9. Cloud, Barret, Tifa, Aeris, and Red XIII make their escape from Shinra HQ.

10. The Whispers surround the Shinra tower.

11. Rufus enters the Executive Suite and sees the Whispers for the first time.

12. Tseng gets a call from someone (presumably Reno) and is pleased by what he hears. He tells Rufus that “The men are on standby.” To which Rufus responds, “Bring them in.”

13. Rufus gives Reno and Rude the order to exterminate every Avalanche operative still on site.

Now, I realize that 12 and 13 are a little bit vague, and you might be wondering how I arrived at number 13 at all.

The important thing to understand that the main narrative tool that FF7R utilizes is misdirection. Rufus’s line of “bring them in” is just one example of many. After he says this, the scene cuts back to Cloud & co. on the highway as Shinra soldiers are deployed after them, so the immediate assumption is that Rufus just gave the order to dispatch soldiers to detain the party. 

However, if this line was truly in reference to the pursuit of Cloud & co, then Tseng’s phone conversation no longer makes sense. We hear him say, “I see. Very good.” This reaction isn’t internally consistent with the idea that someone has just told him that the party has escaped.

More likely, Tseng was getting an update from Reno that the chopper has been parked and they’ve returned to HQ. “The men are on standby” -- Reno and Rude are back and awaiting orders. Rufus then gives Tseng the order to have Reno and Rude come into the office. There, the order is given to take out Avalanche.  This also explains why Reno and Rude are missing from the final sequence in which Rufus takes the throne -- they’re still likely out and about in the aftermath of the mass murder they just performed.

The Whispers are non-hostile to Rufus, and he seems completely distracted and mesmerized by them. He can see them, but they’re not impeding his progress in any way.

Avalanche HQ are not supposed to be at Shinra HQ. This is not how the original script/”destiny” plays out. So, by giving the order to hunt down and kill every Avalanche operative, he’s actually doing the bidding of destiny/The Whispers, even if he doesn’t realize it. He’s basically doing the Whispers’ job for them.

So when the order comes, the Whispers decide to help out and encircle the Shinra building in order to ensure that none of them escape.

Knowingly or not, the Whispers serve to establish the bounds of Rufus’s villainy and mercilessness. His inaugural speech about ruling the world through fear is no longer necessary, as he’s just turned Shinra HQ into a locked-down prison for the “heroic” team, in which he orders and orchestrates a bloodbath.

[unbiddenrhythm]

Some headcanons

Reeve and His Assistant

To me, her name is Rita (adapted from Reeve Tuesti’s Assistant), so that’s what she’ll be called here henceforth.

Age: 30 (I could see a range form 27-31, though...but definitely in Turk/Rufus range, so younger than Reeve.)

He was 25 when this intrepid 20 year old receptionist came to him asking for additional assignments; reports to file, numbers to crunch.

She impressed him in no time with her knack for numbers and timeliness in completing reports, and he soon assigned her to all manner of tasks to help keep the administration of the division running smoothly.

Given her penchant for working hard, he quickly promoted her to his personal administrative assistant. In many ways, she acts as his number two, and as such he’s become used to airing his thoughts and feelings to her.

They are both workaholics, staying late into the night finishing up their tasks. As a result, each would say they don’t have much of a social life, or many friends. Gradually, they find themselves divulging details of their personal lives.

For Reeve, it’s talking about his Ma. On more than one special occasion Rita has helped him pick out gifts, or deliver something just in time.

Rita talks about her grandfather...Mayor Domino. Reeve was surprised by the connection first, since they don’t share a name, but she explains he’s her maternal grandfather. But, she doesn’t like telling people, since then they’d assume she’s only here because of nepotism.

Reeve already got along with the Mayor quite well. But he feels...different, more nervous, now that he knows Domino is Rita’s grandfather. Reeve feels pressured to make an extra good impression.

Rita’s not sure how Reeve feels about her, but she has a MAJOR crush. How can anyone blame her? She works for the best Director in the company, and after a few weeks of working with him she was charmed by his genuine kindness and care for the city. She’s been smitten ever since.

Many of the UrbDev staff know this, and mock her mercilessly for it in the employee chat.

Papa Domino also teases her about it, saying that it’s obvious they like each other. She asks him how he knows and he says he just “has his ways...”

Reeve doesn’t date much, and he also doesn’t think a lot about the prospect. But as he’s spent more and more time with her, he just can’t help but wonder...what would it be like?

As it stands, he realizes she’s one of the only people in the company who cares for him, and that he can trust. That makes her invaluable to him. He's not sure he wants to rock that boat...yet.

[zacklover24]

Fourth Dawn Chapter XI

Somehow aurora knew that coming here to hope county would be a bad idea, but the way carmina begged for there helped over ride that fear. And now shit was bad, rush and several of there people had been taken by the twins, the people of hope county were nothing but shells of themselves too afraid to do much, but now aurora needed to step up and help them. Gather who was is needed and maybe go make a deal with the devil. And hopefully to save rush. AO3 link found here link 

Aurora was in the gun, while hurk drove and charlie and him chatted. They had a lot to talk about, what charlie missed and how much hurk missed gina. And how much grace and jj had grown. Hurk parked about half a mile away, as they got out, charlie let out a whistle, and to aurora shock and horror a small pack of wolves and dogs appeared.

“How did you do that?” Aurora asks as charlie petted some of the wolves.

“My dad trained them.” Was charlie answer, as she pulled out a pair of binoculars, “Let's see, seems that the highwaymen have one sniper on the roof of the house, six guards on the ground and four dogs with them.” She hums passing the binoculars to aurora who saw all of the guards.

“Why so many guards?” She asks hurk.

“Even in his old age, jacob seed is not a man you want to fuck with. Charlie we have no clue if they have any guards inside of the house.” Hurk tells her.

“They do, I already know that to be fact.” She tells him taking the bow off her back, “I’ll take out the sniper, aurora wait for the sniper to be down to take out the guards on the outside, hurk do what you do best with the pack to keep them busy.”

“You got it charlie.” He says getting his rocket launcher, before aurora could say a word she was gone, she moved fast and was gone before any of them could say a word.

“Okay that is creepy.” Aurora says as got her saw launcher ready. A few tense minutes passed, but the soon the sniper was down and aurora and hurk acted. Hurk fired off a rocket sending it out what use to a stand of some kind as aurora took out the dog, that was about to attack her. The highwaymen inside soon came outside and were soon killed with a saw to the gut. As hurk was taking out the highwaymen a turk of them pulled up, and opened fire. Aurora and hurk ducked, but then they heard a bang and the highwaymen shooting was dead with a hole in her head.

Aurora looked to see a tall, well aged man standing in the doorway. He had fire red hair that had all but shaven off but the top in what was left of his hair she could see some gray but nothing to bad, cornflower blue eyes, and was wearing a pair of glasses, and a neatly trimmed bread. He wore a white shirt, with loose fitting jeans with mud and blood caked boots. He wore an old army jacket with the number ‘82’ on the shoulder and a white wolf pelt over his shoulders the wolf had a red cross painted on its head. In his hands was a red sniper rifle, the man didn’t say a word as he took aim at the few highwaymen that just got out of the truck, each one lay dead with a bullet in there heads.

“A little much don’t you think dad?” Charlie asks coming out of the house with a shit eating grin on her face. Wait, dad? This man was jacob seed?

Jacob let out a humph, “Nope.” He says popping the P, as he walked through the dead bodies, “Not bad, saw was a little too much.”

“That would be aurora.” Charlie tells him following after him, “How are you?” She asks him.

“Fine, ready to head home. You get joseph back yet?” He asks her.

“He’s back at new eden yes, and so is your granddaughter by the way.” She tells him patting him on the back and rolling her eyes.

“I have a granddaughter?” He says shocked and confused.

“Yes, papa you do.”

Jacob could only smile, at the thought, “Well let's not keep her waiting.”

The ride back to new eden was quite, and hurk respected that as they drove back to the fort. Jacob was welcomed back as a hero and with open arms, they headed up to seed house when aurora heart stopped.

“Beans’ scouts report that rush was kidnapped by the twins again.” Aurora body shook with rage and angry as her body turned yellow and her eyes turned red as she let put a primal scream, she looked ready to attack when out of nowhere charlie appeared and punched her hard, Aurora was sent flying. Charlie let out a deep growl as she was glowing yellow and rushed after Aurora.

“Mommy!” Grace yells as Jacob was quick to grab the little girl arm

“Let her go pup, let me go.” As he picked her up and cradled her close. Grace looked at Jacob fear and confusion in her eyes.

“Grace,” Sharky says, “That's your grandpa.” Grace looked at Jacob and started to sniffle.

“Don't worry pup your mama is a seed.” Jacob gently tells her.

Aurora had very little time to react as Charlie grab the back of her head and threw her down by the river where the water wheel was. Aurora tried to get up but, Charlie was on her, the deputy had placed her knee in the middle of her back keep her pinned to the ground, she grabbed the back of a Aurora head and dunked her down under the water. Aurora started to pound and slam the ground, her head was pulled up back up, was dunked back down. Charlie full weight was on her and when she was brought up again and charlie let go. Her eyes were no longer red and when Aurora looked at the water her eyes were back to normal. Did she just bring back fork the edge?

“You good?” Charlie asks arms crossed standing there with a look of disgust on her face.

“I think.” Aurora mutters coughing, “I think.”

“Good, let's head back.” Charlie tells her stretching out.

“You know for an older woman your very fast.” Aurora comments.

“I'm going to ignore that comment for now.” The dep warns. Aurora did not like that warning of the deputy tone. The pair went back to the seed house and to see Jacob was talking with pratt and then they kissed.

“So why the hell were you trying to drown me?” Aurora asks charlie.

“I wasn't drowning you, I was simply trying to make you calm down.” Charlie tells her sitting down next to sharky who was next to john as joseph was at the head with kim as the pair were trying to find a way to save rush, as hurk was missing but was quickly told that he was of keeping grace and the kids busy for now, “I've been drowned that was nothing.”

“What are you talking about?” Aurora asks sitting down on the floor.

“Back before the world went to hell, I was a cop, I almost drowned when I was trying to make attrest, I was in a car that was a bridge that got shoot a bridge, and then the peggies thought I need to atone so they brought out ot a river to be baptised, I dunked under the water twice almost three.” Charlie tells her eyeing John who looked innocent.

“Why are you telling me this?” The captain asks, her looking confused.

“Because you now now the diffrence.” charlie simply tells her like it was nothing.

“Well I wouldn’t have to know the difference if you didn’t try to drown me, but off topic. We need to find and save rush!” She yells at charlie who sigh and cracked her neck.

“I know where rush is or at least have a best guess. I think the twins took him to the old grain soil.”

“Wait is the same soil where we got drunk and we made out and I got to first base?” Sharky asks her.

“No, that is the other soil, and that happened after he blew up that explosive soil, after getting bull balls for the spread eagle. No, I’m talking about the soil that that window marker in it.” charlie tells everyone.

“What the fuck is the window marker?” Aurora asks, as john could only sutter and charlie and sharky both shared a devilish smile.

“The window maker was a semi-truck that was owned by a close friend of mine. The cult stole it so we stole it back and rode it down the road using it’s mounted machine guns to kill peggies and blow up cars. And then hurk took out a peggie chopper with his launcher. The crange!” Charlie tells her, with a dark smile.

Aurora scotted back, looking a little afraid, as did john and joseph and kim while looked umaused, “Okay……..”

“If I’m right the twins took him there, and I’ll get him back.” Charlie tells her.

“You will?” Aurora asks smiling at her.

“I will, I’ll even go back to being the judge to fuck with them.” As charlie could only smile at the thought of being the judge again.

“Okay……. What about grace?” Sharky and charlie shared a look, and then looked at kim.

“I think for now she’ll be safe here. The highwaymen won’t attack new eden not with my papa back.”

“I have to agree with my chica, the homestead is not up full stuff right now. I want grace to be safe, and as much as I hate to say this the new eden is pretty safe.” Sharky tells her sounding defeating. “And it would be good for grace, she should get to know her family.”

“Family means the world to us.”

End of line

[smurkioff2]

5.

Dream

“Hey mommy.... Mommy.... das my school”

Kody stuttered. I smiled, looking my rear view mirror. 

“I know papa, you’re staying with mommy today”

He looked up bright eyed with a smile.

“Me?”

“Yeah you silly butt”

He laughed, kicking his legs in his carseat. My baby always at school, he’s only 2 so Ima give him a little 2 week break. It was actually Qua’s idea. I just wanna spend more one on one time with him.

With Vanni, work, and being a single parent and mom, I was juggling the world with less time with my baby. But to be honest, God stepped in during the right moment. 

With Qua in the picture, not only does that give me a break, but more time with my boy. Don’t get me wrong, we have our time but I can do better in that area. They’re only this age for so long.

I had me a interview this morning, my homegirl gloss was handling the shop for me, after this me and Kody gonna get into these Atlanta streets. Might even fly to Florida.

Stopping at the light, I scrolled through my Instagram then seeing a call coming in. Answering through the Bluetooth of my car, I cleared my throat and spoke. 

Quavo: What it do

Dream: Nothing, about to head to this interview with Kody

Quavo: iight iight. You want me to bring my baby back?

Dream: Yeah nigga

He laughed.

Quavo: Nah, I got something better cookin up

I scoffed and shrugged my shoulders.

Dream: Like what? Nigga bring me my baby

Quavo: Let me take ya’ll to Turks

I laughed and shook my head. He back but I don’t trust his ass a lick. JUst take care my kids.

Dream: Man, just take care your kids

He laughed and I smiled as I heard Vanni babble in the back. 

Quavo: Come on with the games man. Trynna show you how you should be treated. Meet me at the clear port. Fuck the clothes

Quavo

I stood at the clear port looking around for Dream. 

Damn, she really must not be fucking with a nigga. And time is money. I got a pilot on a schedule. I smacked my teeth as the pilot stepped off the flight.

“No rush just want to make sure we’re on schedule”

I nodded, taking a pull from the blunt and looking back at the jet. I nodded about to turn around until I seen a car pulling up. I smiled when I peeped the car. I was about to say, I know she ain’t gonna leave me hanging and not say shit. 

It was about to be a trip for me and my baby. I waited till she pulled up, watching as she got out and helped Kody out the backseat.

“Wassup man”

He looked over her shoulder and smiled as she lifted him out his seat. Running over to me, he hit my leg a few times then smiled and backed up.

“I got nanas”

“You had a banana baby?”

He nodded his head, standing beside me as Dream walked up and rolled her eyes.

“Thought you was gonna leave me hangin”

She pushed her shades up up on her face and shook her head.

“Mmmm I almost did”

I laughed licking over my lips as she pushed past me on to the jet. Kody looked up at me smiling as we walked to the jet together.

“Grab that bag right there sir, thank you”

The attendant nodded, stepping to the side as I look

Quavohuncho

Liked by boriquadreamdoll and 302,514 others

Where we goin son?

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“Come on baby”

Picking Kody up, I stepped into the plane to see Dream sitting across from my mother and looked back at me.

“Boy why you ain’t tell me Dream was coming!!”

My mama yelled. I laughed and shrugged, letting Kody down.

“It was a surprise boo, Kody you remember Honey?”

He shook his head and back up to me. I laughed as my mom shook her head at me. She loved Kody so me falling off resulted in everybody falling off. I fucked up, but imma make it right.

“Boy go give my mama a hug”

He laughed, stepping over my foot to give my mom a hug then looked at Yovanni in her arms.

“Now I got 2 grandbabies I can live on. She looks just like you Dream. Just with Darker hair. I fell in complete love when Qua bought her by. Do beautiful”

“Thank you thank you, baked these babies to perfection”

[queen-ofthe-pumpkinpatch]

The Reluctant Countess: Chapter One

Story Summary: When another plague outbreak arrives on the shores of the Black Sea in 1667, wealthy merchant’s daughter Rosalind is forced to flee her comfortable life for the relative safety of a remote village in the Carpathian Mountains. But she soon finds the humble village harbors a sinister secret and a haunted past.

A “Beauty and the Beast”-inspired vampire story, rated T for some violence. (The romance itself is going to be rated PG.)

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Two Weeks Earlier

Over her shoulder, Rosalind watched the city of Constanta, and the serene Black Sea behind it, slowly disappear. Dawn was just creeping over the horizon. The city would soon stir awake—the fishermen casting their nets in the harbor, the grocers and butchers setting up their stalls in the market square—but now it was drowsy, blanketed in shadow. All she could see distinctly in this light were the spires of the great basilica and the mosque piercing the sky.

The ships anchored in the harbor swayed like a line of trees in the wind. As a child, she had loved watching the merchant ships and imagining what cargo they brought—fine glass from Venice, perhaps, or spices from Aleppo, or even jade and silk from the Orient. But now Rosalind could only think, with a leaden heart, that her father's ship would never again be among them.

The horse-drawn wagon jerked over a rut in the cobblestone road, and she was forced to face ahead once more. She wanted to memorize the view, even though she had awoke to it every day of her twenty years, because it would be the last time. Her traveling companion, a middle-aged Turk in a saffron-colored turban, laid a hand gently on her arm.

"You will see it again someday," he assured her. "Take heart, my dear."

She swallowed hard and nodded. "Is it hard for you too, Faruk? Leaving Constanta?"

Faruk considered her question carefully. "This city has been good to me, but I was not born here, so it isn't quite the same. Leaving Istanbul, that was a wrench for me. I think of it still. And the family I left behind. It never leaves you, but the ache does fade with time. I promise you that."

She took a shuddering breath. She appreciated his empathy, but the wound was too raw and recent for her to intelligibly respond. He took one hand off the horses' reigns to squeeze hers.

"There was nothing you could have done for him, Rosalind," he said firmly. "Once the black marks appear on one's skin, death is inevitable. He will not suffer much longer, that I know. There will just be time to make peace with your god."

He waited for Rosalind to respond, but she couldn't. She still had not cried, but she felt brittle.

"Your father was a warm and generous man, a good friend. I do not pretend to be an expert on your Christian values, but I cannot imagine he will be given anything but peace in the life to come. And if it's any comfort—"

"Faruk," she interjected, "I know you mean well. But I'm not ready to speak of my father in the past tense. Can we talk about something else?"

He pursed his lips, watching the road in silence for a moment, seeming to search for another topic. "It's been some time since I've quizzed you on anatomy," he said at last. "Let's see how well you've retained my teachings. If a man were said to have an overabundance of the sanguine humor, what remedy would you suggest?"

Rosalind almost chuckled at his one-track mind. Faruk had been one of her tutors growing up, drilling her in astronomy, sciences, and algebra. Her father had wanted only the finest and most modern education for his only child. Faruk, having no family of his own, had acted as a sort of avuncular guardian while her father was away on his long voyages, and so the two had become very attached.

But it had been many years since Rosalind had studied such things in any earnest—of late, she had been too occupied with keeping her father's financial affairs in order.

Whenever one of her father's merchant friends protested or sneered at a young woman being trusted with such matters, he had simply replied, I have no son to carry on my name or my business, so why not my daughter? She's clever enough. Why should I marry her off so soon when she's of so much use to me here? And in private, he would then clasp her hands and reassure her, We'll wait to make a match for you, Rosalind. Not until we've found someone you like and respect. There's no hurry, my girl.

She took a shuddering breath. Anything and everything reminded her of her father right now.

"It means the patient has too much blood," she replied finally, modulating her voice carefully. "Application of leeches, or bleeding him with a knife, would bring his humors back into balance."

"Correct. And what celestial body is associated with a sanguine temperament?"

Rosalind found it difficult to concentrate on his questions, as she was tired and lulled into a stupor by the rhythmic rocking of the wagon, but those lessons were still firmly ingrained. "Jupiter," she said.

Faruk must have heard the drowsiness in her voice, for her put a hand on her shoulder. "I'll wake you when we stop, Rosalind. Sleep if you can, it will be a long journey."

Rosalind slept fitfully. It was difficult to stop replaying recent memories in her mind, and they bled over into her vivid dreams. It was so hard to accept that her life had turned upside down only hours before.

In the middle of the night, she had sensed that something was wrong. Usually Rosalind met her father at the docks to welcome him home, but this time his ship made port in the moonlight while she slept. What woke her was not an embrace from her long-awaited father, but rather the sounds of rummaging through drawers and trunks, and low mutterings coming from the room adjacent to hers.

At first, Rosalind feared it was a burglar, for it wasn't like her father to come home without even waking her. She threw off her blankets and crept out of her chamber with a heavy iron candlestick to confront the intruder.

Through the crack in the door, she spied a familiar stocky silhouette frantically throwing items into an open chest on the floor.

"Papa?" she murmured, still drowsy and confused. "What are you doing?"

He locked eyes with her, and she saw in them a desperate, hunted look like a fugitive.

"Rosalind. Stay where you are, my girl." When she ignored him and rushed forward to embrace him, he retreated, palms up as if to ward off an attack. "Come no closer, I tell you!"

Another man, who had been hidden from her view until now behind the door, gently guided her a few paces further from her father. It was Faruk. "He's right, Rosalind, we must keep our distance," he said apologetically.

"Papa, what…what's wrong?" she asked faintly, for now that she could see both men in the candlelight, it was clear that something was. Her father's dark unruly curls were sticking to his brow with sweat and he was breathing hard, as if he had just run a great distance. There was a chalky quality to his olive skin, and a horrible death rattle in his lungs when he coughed. Faruk's entire body was tensed.

"Sickness is coming to this city," her father said gravely, whispering as if he feared the authorities were listening on the street corner. "You must go, Rosalind, leave this place at once, before the magistrates issue a quarantine."

"What are you talking about, Papa, aren't you coming with—?"

"It's too late for me," he said, shaking his head in agitation. "I am already showing signs of the disease."

He rolled up one of his sleeves to reveal a blackened patch of skin on his forearm. Rosalind clapped a hand over her mouth in horror. She had never seen anything like it, but she had read enough medical and historical texts to understand the significance of his slowly deadening flesh.

"Unless you go now," he said, "they will lock up the sick and the well together, and you will have no chance either, don't you understand?"

Rosalind was reeling; she couldn't fully comprehend what was happening. "But where can I go?"

"Inland. To the mountains. There is a village two days north of Bucharest, high in the Carpathians. It is the place I was born. Your aunt Ioana lives there still with her husband, you can stay with them. It is a strange place but…you will be safe there."

He was then overcome with weakness, clinging to the bedpost to stay upright. Rosalind tried to reach for him to help, but Faruk caught her and held her back.

"Papa, please let me stay, you need someone to take care of you," she pleaded.

Her father didn't reply to her. "Faruk, remember your promise to me," he said, staring intensely at the old tutor.

Faruk swallowed hard and nodded. "I will keep my word to you, old friend," he said in a quivering voice, still holding fast to Rosalind's arm.

"Good man." He pushed the wooden chest across the floor toward them. "Take this with you, Rosalind. It's your dowry—I've been putting it away for you little by little—it's not as much as I'd hoped, but it may prove useful all the same."

Through her tears, Rosalind whimpered, "I can't, Papa, I can't just leave you to die."

"And I can't die in peace unless I know my daughter is safe." His breathing was labored. "Go. There isn't much time."

Faruk began to drag her from the room—he was no stronger than her, but Rosalind was too overcome with shock and despair to put up much resistance. She caught a few final words in her father's hoarse whisper.

"I love you, my child. God be with you."

Next chapter>>

[papa-turk-tells]

There are no doubs that she was his first “I own your ass” female crush. ((Can’t count her as the first crush bc of Mongolia))

[ask-pakistan]

Layer Meme

LAYER ONE: THE OUTSIDE

name: Umer

eye color:  Greyish Green.

hair style/colour: Messy Dark Brown Hairs.

height:  5’7

clothing style: Usually traditional Shalwar Kameez. But since he lives in Islamabad, he also wears modern clothing from time-to-time. Usually he can be seen wearing the traditional clothing of his provinces as well, as a way of embracing all aspects of his cultural diversity.

best physical feature: Hmm I’d like to say his eyes because they have stories to tell. Also a lot of people here have long eyelashes so I’d like to give my muse those as well.

LAYER TWO: THE INSIDE

your fears: Considering the things he’s had to deal with his worst fear would be seeing any of his young children in the hands of the Terrorists. This fear had developed after the Peshawar school Attack in 2014. 

your guilty pleasure: Purposely screwing things for others. He may seem like a person who is well behaved but beware he also has his mischievous moods. 

your biggest pet peeve: India or Afghanistan. Both are pretty annoying. Maybe Afghanistan a notch more these days.

your ambitions for the future: A bright future! Other than that, hugging every damn goat he sees, doesn’t matters which breed he instantly cling onto the damn goat.

LAYER THREE: THOUGHTS

your first thoughts waking up: I don’t want to get up buuut i’ll miss Fajr…

what you think about most: Goats/Food and wrecking havoc upon someone he finds annoying.

what you think about before bed: “I’m too tire-“ He doesn’t thinks before his sleep, he Instantly passes out the moment his head hits the pillow.

you think your best quality : He can cook also he likes poetry and likes writing it. (Influence by the Mughals) Okay it meant a single quality but he can also sing XD COKE STUDIO—

LAYER FOUR: WHAT’S BETTER?

single or group dates: “La haula wa la quat !!—“ (The aunties are watching!)

to be loved or respected: Loved.

beauty or brains:  Brains.

dogs or cats: No Goats?? If not then cats.

LAYER FIVE: DO YOU?

lie: When he has to.

believe in yourself: I believe in myself but not enough in my government. (Sigh)

believe in love: He sees no point in love considering he is a nation. He thinks it would be a stupid and unfulfilling to indulge in love considering his status won’t let anything be normal. But that does not mean he doesn’t believes in love.

LAYER SIX: EVER?

been on stage: Yes

done drugs: “No… at least not with my consent.”

changed who you were to fit in: Not really unless he changed depending on his people’s demographics and habits.

LAYER SEVEN: FAVORITES

favorite color: Dark Emerald Green

favorite animal: GOATS and cats are pretty cute too.

favorite movie:  - i don’t think he has a specific one. Okay he has a specific one but he will not admit it.

favorite game: Cricket! Hockey and Ludo (Playing with the provinces tho)

LAYER EIGHT: AGE

day your next birthday will be: I don’t know the exact date i was born on , so i’ll celebrate my freedom day instead which is on 14th August.

how old will you be: hmm 1200 something... more or less.

age you lost your virginity: *is gonna go on a shooting spree—*

does age matter: OBVIOUSLY? At least in Human relations.

LAYER NINE: IN A PERSON

best personality: Peaceful. Loving. Funny. Calming. Optimistic and Wise!

best eye color: no preference

best hair color: no preference

best thing to do with a partner: Cuddle, experimental cooking and peacefully gazing at the stars from the mountains. And more cuddles.

LAYER TEN: FINISH THE SENTENCE

i love: unconditionally.

i feel: Hopeful.

i hide: my scars.

i miss: the Good Old days.

i wish: I could erase my mistakes.

I was tagged by : @hetaliaindie

I tag : (i don’t know who to !) @papa-turk-tells (i am sorry for bothering you !) @the-karadeniz-blog  

@Anybody who wants to do this !

[seraphicwiing]

-> @chasiingrain ​said: News about the fall of the Sector 7 plate doesn't take long to travel to nearby towns, though it is a letter sent by a courier from an inside source, delivered to the ex-General, that tells him of the demise of AVALANCHE within the rubble. It's unknown how many are beneath the pile of steel and rebar, but word of Biggs and Jessie's last stands against a helicopter of Turks has been spread around with the survivors - and in this letter.

Random IC Stuff (Always Accepting!) 

Hushed whispers of the events that had transpired in Midgar had already began to spread amongst the townsfolk, but the brooding former war hero, who had chosen this small mining town of Kalm to be his base of operations refused to believe it to be true. Refused to open the letter delivered to him by the courier, who was most likely AVALANCHE, or at least the section that operated beyond Jessie’s group. Thoughts of regret now crossed his mind as he gripped upon the slightly tattered parchment, hoping that she wasn’t in this. That she made it out alive and well. 

Fingers curled around, an uncharacteristic shaking as his nerves and emotions were now getting the better of the battle-hardened warrior. Glowing abashed eyes gazed intently upon the words that he feared the most. 

‘While it is possible they could have escaped, we could not find any signs of Jessie and Biggs amongst the survivors and while there is a slight posibility that they are buried underneath the rubble. Due to the height of the tower however, it is highly unlikely that they may have survived the fall let alone being buried underneath that much debris. I’m sorry, Hero. They’re gone. ~L’ 

This feeling... It felt way too much like Nibelheim, but much worse. Tears formed in his eyes that he bitterly held back, clamping his lids shut. The droplets that had already formed fell down his pale cheeks and onto the wooden floorboards. “I refuse...” Once he opened his eyes, he gazed upon the mirror opposite him as a face filled with pure disgust emerged. This wasn’t over... 

‘What a load of bullshit.. They aren’t dead... She isn’t dead!’ Denial hit Sephiroth harder than anything could, he could not bare the thought of losing her. Who he had devoted and spent so much time with in the past, and now. Arising from the safety and comfort of his bed and crushing the letter in his right fist and taking up masamune in his left hand once more. The Demon had been stirred from his slumber, this burning anger, this same anger that he felt back at Nibelheim... It coursed through his body like a venomous aura as he mounted his Daytona and rode off to Midgar while he wasn’t still too late. 

Taking one of the more secret routes into the city, he could already smell the foul stench of putrid smoke and and embers in the air. All he needed to do was follow the scent, using the route in the collapsed tunnel near the Sector 5 Slums to easily make it to Sector 6 and from there, the fallen plate.  

‘I’m coming, Jessie... Please forgive me...’ 

He could already hear the crowd of survivors as he neared the exit of the tunnel, using Masamune to cut a path through the rest of the way not caring anymore whether it would dull the sharply and cleverly forged mithril blade. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he reached the mass of survivors, pushing past them with ignorance and force with only a singular goal in mind. But soon he in his tracks by what he assumed to be AVALANCHE agents who were denying him the right to find the body of the woman that had captured his heart. 

“Sephiroth, sir! We cannot let you pass!” 

“Don’t you even think of trying to stop me, it is your fault that this happened! It’s your stupid groups fault that Jessie and Biggs are dead!” Snapped back the former general at what looked to be a teenager, who had just reached the cusp of adulthood. He was too blinded by grief and rage to realise what he was becoming, what manner of beast that they had awakened within Sephiroth. He had not realised that his grip on Masamune was getting tighter, as if he was about to strike down the poor AVALANCHE member before him until he heard the voice of a child call out to him. Turning to meet it, he saw those little legs run towards him.

“Betty?” He said gently, turning to face the small child that he had met when he first came back to Midgar. A solemn smile now tugged on the corners of his lips as he knelt down and caught the child in his arms. Perhaps cat hunting for the small lass proved to be useful after all. It was enough to quell his rage, for now. 

“Don’t worry Mr Soldier Man, Jessie and Biggs are alive... I saw those big scary men with guns drag her out of the rubble before my papa found me.” So she was alive. The news sent a calming relief all over his body, his heart that had been beating a little too fast for his liking had began to regulate as his breathing became calm. 

“Thank Gaia....” He let out in a hushed tone, pulling away from the child and giving her a light pat on the head before offering her the old Sephiroth smile. “Did you manage to hear where they may have taken her? Anything can help out...” 

“They said something about home... Something about a tower? Mr Soldier Man, are you going to save them? Can you promise me you’l bring them back safe and sound? Jessie said she’ll take us all topside one day and-” Sephiroth frowned for a moment as he wathed the child burst into tears, the gentle giant cupping both of her cheeks in his gloved hands and wiping the tears away. 

“I promise, I’ll bring them back. I’ll bring her back.”  

And with those words, he rose once more with renewed determination. Sephiroth turned to the poor teen who had to deal with his anger and gave him a small shrug, the closest he’ll get to an apology before He knew just what ‘Home’ meant for ShinRa soldiers, and that was where he was going. Back home to where his life started and where they were now going to hold the one he loved. 

ShinRa wanted the monster? Now they were going to get it. 

[breakingasia-blog]

Missing Parents: Turkey's Uighur Refugee Camp Turns Orphanage

But for several, it has also become an impromptu orphanage. Having fled a worsening crackdown on Uighur Muslims in northwest China, some of their parents thought it was still safe to return occasionally for business and to visit family, only to disappear into a shadowy network of re-education camps from which no communication is permitted. Out of just over a hundred pupils at the school, 26 have lost one parent to the camps, seven have lost both, says its head Habibullah Kuseni. Nine-year-old Fatima has only vague memories of her homeland -- and now, of her father, too. She remembers watching television with him: she wanted cartoons, but he liked watching the news especially about Turkey's president, Recep Tayyip Erdogan, one of the only leaders in the Muslim world willing to stand up for the Uighurs and risk China's wrath. Her father flew back to China from time to time for business before anyone knew about the camps in the Xinjiang region. Many of the Uighur child refugees at the school have lost one or both parents to the network of re-education camps in China "And then he was gone," she says, tears streaming down her face. "I thought he would come back, but he never did." No one has heard from him in three years. Exiled Uighur activists in November released evidence of nearly 500 camps and prisons being used against their ethnic group in China, saying the overall number of inmates could be "far greater" than the one million usually cited. When news of the camps first emerged in 2017, Beijing initially denied their existence. Later, it claimed they were "voluntary" vocational centres aimed at combating extremism by teaching people Mandarin and job skills. But leaked internal documents have shown they are run like prisons, while critics say they are aimed at eradicating local culture and religion of Uighurs and other, mostly Muslim, minorities. Teacher Mahmut Utfi says he sees his job as a duty as the Uighurs are "facing extinction" Don't Worry About Us With some 50,000 Uighur refugees in Turkey, there are many more children like Fatima or even worse off. Tursunay, 15, hasn't seen or spoken to either of her parents since July 2017. "Don't worry about us," they said, in their last phone call on a trip back to China. They said it was strange their passports had been confiscated but were sure it would be resolved soon. Then, silence. Tursunay remembers her life in China. She recalls asking: "Why are they watching us, papa?" when cameras were installed at the entrance to their apartment. It's because we are Muslims, her father said. He burned their collection of religious CDs. Tursunay has just her little sister now and an older friend they met on the refugee trail who looks after them. All forms of communication with every family member in China have been cut. She longs for her parents so much -- even just a brief message -- that she says she must fight the urge to be angry with them for disappearing. "I try to stay optimistic and remember that it's not my parents who have done this to me," she says. Many children inside Xinjiang are also reportedly without parents. Human Rights Watch said in September that Chinese authorities have housed "countless" children whose parents are detained or in exile in state-run child welfare institutions and boarding schools without parental consent or access. Rallies in support of Uighurs were held in Istanbul recently -- many Turks feel historic bonds with the Uighurs, either as fellow Muslims or as part of the same Turkic-speaking ethnic group Cries of our Brothers Many Turks feel historic bonds with the Uighurs, either as fellow Muslims or as part of the same Turkic-speaking ethnic group. Back-to-back rallies were held in December in Istanbul, one by Islamists and another by ultra-nationalists. "Haven't the cries of our brothers from East Turkestan reached you?" said Musa Bayoglu during one outside the Chinese consulate, using Uighur activists' preferred name for their region which is strictly outlawed by China. "Haven't the screams of our sisters passed through the walls of your palaces?" Earlier this year, Turkey's foreign ministry called China's crackdown on Uighurs "a great embarrassment for humanity" but since then has been largely silent on the issue. When Erdogan spoke at the UN General Assembly in September, he reeled off a list of Muslim groups facing persecution, from Palestinians to Myanmar's Rohingyas. Uighurs were notably absent. Many fear he is bending to Chinese economic pressure, though Uighurs in Turkey remain hugely grateful for the asylum the country has offered. "They are providing 50,000 Uighurs a peaceful place to live," said one Uighur activist in Istanbul. "No other Muslim country did that, no Western country did that." We will Take it Back The leaked internal documents detailed how Beijing runs the camps. They included instructions that inmates should be cut off from the outside world and monitored at all times -- including toilet breaks -- to prevent escapes. They also indicated that people should be held for at least a year, and released only after being assessed for "ideological transformation, study and training, and compliance with discipline." At the Uighur school in Istanbul, such stories take a toll. "I still want to listen to the news, but when I hear about it, I feel bad, uneasy; my stomach aches," says Rufine, 12, who wants to be a teacher or a doctor when she's older. Her mother disappeared two years ago when she went back to look after Rufine's sick grandmother. Kuseni, the headteacher, laughs when asked what items in the school would be illegal in China. "Just coming on holiday to a Muslim country like Turkey would be enough to send you to a camp," he says. "As for this stuff...," he points at the East Turkestan flag and the Uighur Arabic script on the wall, and makes a cutting motion across his throat. "The Uighurs are facing extinction," adds 39-year-old teacher Mahmut Utfi. "Our culture, our language. I see my job as a duty." For Fatima, the repression has only made her more defiant. Tears still streaming, her voice cracking, she has a fierce message for the Chinese government: "I would tell them: just wait a bit. You think we're weak, but you'll see. Our nation, our motherland will survive, you won't be able to stop it. "Because they took it from us, we will have to take it back," she says. PICTURES BY OZAN KOSE Read the full article

[bloodfcst-a]

🤝 + 51 (dealers choice/randomise!)

MEME: fifty reasons to touch someone.

Yuffie’s not certain of these Shin-Ra people, haven’t been for the last several years they’ve passed through. Papa’s had them here and they laugh, they make jokes, they share gifts in their ‘ acts of diplomacy. ’ They’re doesn’t quite understand it, but occasionally they’re gifted a suit, a headband, a belt, pretend swords and guns. A cute kid you got, the higher ups always said. Papa tells them not to take them lightly.

So Yuffie doesn’t. Instead takes their weapons, false or not, with serious demeanor and stern face. They’ve mastered what it means to not look cute unless it’s necessary, to not give anyone a reason to doubt you. Yuffie endures all the noogies and wet willies and hair ruffles that are adamantly given to them. They wouldn’t quite call it affectionate– there is no fondness between the two parties.

Yuffie feels little fondness, barely trust; but when the bombs are planted in the pagoda and it’s their self-assigned job to remove them, it’s their first thought to throw them at the Shin-Ra for having invited AVALANCHE to their homeland in the first place. They pay no mind to the Turk chasing them, calling for them.

They can’t help to notice Tseng when he’s standing at the entrance, hand extended, palm open. He knows they’ve found the detonator, too, when his underling thinks they’ve only captured the bombs. It’s to Tseng they give it to. 

He’s Wutaian. And so… there’s an immediate sense of trust. Because he’s like them. He is one of them, even if he wears the suit of the other party…

Yuffie’s fingers quiver when they make contact. And then they run.

[drjacquescoulardeau]

ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON – SEYMOUR BARAB – RUSSELL OBERLIN – A CHILD’S GARDEN OF VERSES – CD UNDATED COPYRIGHT – VINYL 1985 – REMASTERED 2015

Let’s speak of the poems first. The recording will come later below. Robert Louis Stevenson – A Child’s Garden Of Verses – 2017

I will first regret the poems are not in poetic layout but in plain prose layout in spite of the rhymes and the capital letters at the beginning of each group of what should have been lines. We miss that visual poetry. The illustrations are the only visual element and they are nice but not enough to make us enter in this world of children’s poetry, of poetry for children that has to be visually clear and attractive.

 The second characteristic is that it is poetry written for children. Yet it is mostly in first person as if some hypothetical child were speaking and that is not possible because the language is by far too complicated for a child that has just learned how to read. It is thus poetry that has to be read to children and what children are going to find in the poetry is the music with lines, rhymes and rhythm. It is of course a common convention for children’s literature in the second half of the 19th century, which is Stevenson’s period. Children’s literature is adult literature for children.

 The themes are essentially that of a garden, a vast garden and a vast house, if not mansion in the countryside by the sea. We are in a wealthy family or even more than wealthy, with a nurse for that child who is a boy and cannot be anything else, knowing how often he plays with tin soldiers or he plays soldier himself, even if at the end an allusion to a cousin girl is introduced. The world is seen through the eyes of the boy and described through the pen and language of the adult who is telling us the story. The big Louis author is alluding towards the end he is seeing the world through the eyes of a small Louis boy that he probably used to be.

Then you have a lot of seascape, ships, boats, fishing, travelling and foreign countries, though the dominant one is India but only as a distant somewhere. The child is also imagining fairy countries, dreamlike countries to which he is able to travel. But do not expect any Wonderland.

 The most surprising element is the total solitude of that child. He is alone, playing alone and by himself with toys he can play with alone. He does not have any partner and adults are not taking part in the games. The nurse only puts him to bed and gets him up. In many ways it is a sad vision of a solitary quasi abandoned child in a wealthy family where everyone is minding their own businesses and hardly the child. So he sleeps at night, watches the sun rising in the morning, plays in the garden all day long, watches the sun setting in the evening and goes back to bed at night. That kind of life is traumatic. A child living such a life should develop PTSS by total lack of love, total lack of company, total lack of another child of the same size, except the imaginary one he creates, and that should lead him to a split personality, a perfect soil for schizophrenia later on.

 I was even amazed at finding some social Darwinism in one poem:

 The child that is not clean and neat,

With lots of toys and things to eat,

He is a naughty child, I’m sure –

Or else his dear papa is poor.

 In other words, it is the fate of a naughty rich boy or a poor boy. And it is normal if you are poor not to be clean and neat, not to have toys and food. There is no questioning of it and it is equaled to “naughtiness” for a rich boy. A good boy, meaning rich, is always clean and neat, has plenty of toys and plenty to eat. Just add to this it is the reward for being a good rich boy and social Darwinism is with you. These concepts of good boy and bad boy are constantly present in many poems and one is for me surprisingly European-centered to the point of reaching infantile arrogance:

 FOREIGN CHILDREN Little Indian, Sioux or Crow, Little frosty Eskimo, Little Turk or Japanee, Oh! Don’t you wish that you were me? You have seen the scarlet trees And the lions overseas; You have eaten ostrich eggs, And turned the turtles off their legs. Such a life is very fine, But it’s not so nice as mine: You must often, as you trod, Have wearied not to be abroad. You have curious things to eat, I am fed on proper meat; You must dwell beyond the foam, But I am safe and live at home. Little Indian, Sioux or Crow, Little frosty Eskimo, Little Turk or Japanee, Oh! Don’t you wish that you were me?

How plain cruel it is to turn turtles off their legs knowing they cannot get back on their legs alone. Just as cruel as making the Indian, the Sioux, the Crow, the Eskimo, the Turk and the Japanese only dream of one thing: be a good white European, rich of course.

But now the recording. Robert Louis Stevenson – Seymour Barab – Russell Oberlin – A Child’s Garden Of Verses – Cd Undated Copyright – Vinyl 1985 – Remastered 2015

 Since the poems were written for children but were not children’s literature, really written from the point of view and with the language of a child but from the point of view of an adult trying to assume the point of view of a child in adult language, Seymour Barab did not try to compose a traditional music for children in the line of nursery rhymes or lullabies. The music is simple, dynamic songs, but it does not respect the fundamental rule of a song that children can sing: its repetitive stanza pattern. The music is thus very expressive and original. Children might like it, and they probably will, but they won’t be able to sing along because of this fact, this elaboration.

 Now what about the singing. It is not operatic in the articulation it often gets on the stage that makes the language inaudible and impossible to understand. The articulation is closer to that of plain songs, popular songs, music hall songs, so that we can really follow the words easily. The voice of Russell Oberlin sure is a countertenor but the coloration of this countertenor’s voice is very low indeed and the music does not try to make him go up in any way. So we have a very tamed countertenor voice and people who are used today to countertenors like Philippe Jaroussky, Max Emmanuel Cencic or Franco Fagioli will miss the lightest and highest expertise. Even if you think of Alfred Deller or James Bowman, you will also be surprised or disappointed. And yet you would be wrong.

 Russell Oberlin has a voice of his own which is like the voice of a pre-puberty boy who has aged nicely and sounds more like the still light and rather high-pitched voice of a young teenager more than that of a child. But the voice sounds so masculine indeed. And that voice has a strong charm that makes the recording very attractive and dynamic, but above all expressive and that is what we expect from a singer. Expressive in various styles, tempos and emotional stances adopted by the singer in the various songs, some of them being very short and yet in each one, even the smallest, he varies every parameter to create an atmosphere loaded with emotions and sentiments. And that’s the most beautiful side of this recording, even if some of the songs are so short, just like the poems, but just like one sushi is one mouthful small, two dozens of them are quite a satisfying dinner. Good major and minor fluent tonal Appetite!

 Dr. Jacques COULARDEAU

Russell Oberlin, America’s Legendary Countertenor – Radio Canada – 1961 – 1962 – 2004

 He is a legend but we hardly have any of his early recordings. He explains in the 2004 interview that he has recordings of what he did from age 6 to age 36, the age when he stopped singing two years after his hepatitis, but he does not know where they are. He does not seem really keen on looking for them and asking people who have archives here and there to do it for him. He is the proof though that a singer must start early. He was already singing at the age of six in a church choir and he was already hired to sing for private audiences around the age of nine. His evolution was then a continuation and not a discovery. He moved from boy soprano to his countertenor voice or, as he calls it, his high-pitched tenor voice.

 He is also the one who must have started the myth that at the beginning there was only him and Alfred Deller in Great Britain who was a falsetto voice and not a countertenor, according to Russell Oberlin mind you because you could disagree, and his comment was that he was the only countertenor and still is. He says that in 2004 which is amazing and he widens the scope by saying that all so-called countertenors are in fact falsetto voices. Though he says in 2004 that they are doing a pretty good job he seems to disagree with them though he considers they are not a fad but they have come back to stay because they are bringing back a whole immense lot of music scores and operas that could not be sung before (he seems to imply that both the use of women and the recomposing of the parts for tenors or baritones is unacceptable: he does not even mention those surrogate substitutions)

But to sat that in 2004 seems to prove that he was not connected with the world any more because a full generation of countertenors were appearing, some falsetto voices, but some real countertenors. And anyway that’s not the point. Men can sing in that high pitched range and the problem is; as he says, what the singer makes with his voice and that implies work, a lot of work and the saying is right about the early riser. He even acknowledges that falsetto voices that he calls fragile can really be powerful enough to fill a house. Unluckily some critics have followed his approach and rejected all falsetto voices, including those who are real countertenors, as being freaks like Laura E. DeMarco did in 2002.

 The interest of this DVD is that apart from sorting out Russell Oberlin’s two carriers, thirty years in singing and thirty years in teaching music and singing, it provides us with two Canadian radio recordings done in 1961 and 1962 for the nascent black and white television. These recordings are archive recordings and the quality of both the images and the sound are not what we would expect today. The images are low definition and the remastering of them did not improve them that much. We can dream about what television was then. The sound has also been remastered too but you cannot create CD or FM sound with a fifty year old recording. In those days low frequencies and high frequencies did not go through. So it is more a testimony about Russell Oberlin than a real demonstration of what he was able to do.

 The result is very interesting nevertheless. He covers pieces from the Middle Ages, hence monastic singing and church singing when women were banned from singing, which is not entirely true since women were part of the congregation and could as such sing in the chorals even if they could not be part of the choirs. Then he skips the English Renaissance when women were still banned from the stage or church choirs. He jumps to the English baroque period with Purcell and Handel, then moves to the 19th century with Robert Schumann and then more modern things with Hugo Wolf and above all Benjamin Britten and his Oberon part in A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

 As for what we hear it is quite satisfactory, as I have said before, as a testimony of the past but not as a real demonstration of Oberlin’s art. As for what we see we recognize, if we have had the chance of seeing performances in the 60s and 70s, the performing style of these days: sophisticated as for the body language and very standardized as for the costumes in the 1962 show or suits in the 1961 radio recital worn by the performer. The body language is inspired from what we know about baroque performances in the 18th century and tries to recapture the mannerism of that time, a mannerism that was more or less considered as foppish at the time but that has been dropped since the 1960s or completely reconstructed as a style, not an imitation or vague recollection, but a fully developed style including setting, costumes, lights, body language and vocal posture and behavior, at times in an extremely modern and creative way. No nostalgia anymore but creativity.

An essential DVD if we want to apprehend Russell Oberlin and what opera singing was in those older times that are in fact the early modern times, the very vocal rich compost on which the modern world was and still can be constructed for tomorrow.

  Dr Jacques COULARDEAU