#young turk records

[occult-castiel]

Do people just really hate tyt or something? I normally don't watch their stuff, but they were the only non major news or pro-trump outlet streaming this morning, and. My. God. Were the comments distressing.

People literally there to bask in liberal tears. I saw several comments about Ana (who i am assuming is the blond women), and that she'd go conservative if she had "a good fuck"

Idk man. Some comments like that are expected I suppose, but the sheer amount and extremist undertones of them.... I hope tyt is just hated in particular so attracted the worst of the worst.

[magnoliacharmed]

neighborhood superstars

[my-plot-thots]

An Angel of Death has the hots for a guardian Angel. However, the only thing the guardian Angel seems to care about is their human charges millennia after millennia. Soooo… to get their attention, the Angel of death makes little attempts on the current human’s life as petty revenge when the guardian Angel is busy.

The human was never *supposed* to die or even really be at risk. It wasn’t their time yet. Only… the Angel of death just never realized how fragile humans were, okay?! It isn’t his job to keep them alive! And, when the Angel of death accidentally succeez in killing the human, they have to breathe life back into them before the Guardian realizes what happened and refuses to talk to them ever again! And thank goodness it worked. The human is alive, if not a little disoriented looking from dying, but things are fine now! Who cares that Angels are not supposed to or have never been recorded as using their divine gifts in such a way on a mortal before? Nobody will know!

Unfortunately, things are not fine. When the human opens his eyes again, they can suddenly see angels and demons and things that nobody else can see! On top of that, they can’t seem to die. Which is very helpful when he climbs out of his fire escape window and slips to his almost death after hearing and seeing a stranger in his house. (Not realizing that it’s their guardian Angel and not a murderer psycho stalker killer, as he totally saw them following him everywhere through the day.)

Now, an archangel has been called to investigate, and even a very curious young messenger angel/‘cupid’ that was just passing by has decided to tag along for the mess as well.

Starring:

Cloud as a human

Genesis as the Angel of Death

Angeal as the Guardian Angel

Sephiroth as the Archangel.

Zack as a messenger Angel.

The Turks as Demons

[yrrtyrrtwhenihrrthrrt]

Not to get political on main, but as my followers know, the one thing I'll never not speak out about is genocide and genocide denialism.

I cannot, do not, and will not tolerate the "liberal" news site The Young Turks, or anyone who posts from it, or quotes Cenk Uygur in a positive manner. The Young Turks is named in honor of the regime that is responsible for the Armenian Genocide, which had the exact same name. Hundreds of Armenians were massacred in the streets followed by a forced deportation during which up to one million Armenians were brutally slaughtered or died in the death march into the desert. And Cenk Uygur admired the people who committed these atrocities so much that he NAMED HIS FUCKING NEWS SITE AFTER THEM.

Not only that, but he has gone on record multiple times defending or denying the Armenian genocide, and in what can only be described as the world's most blatant act of tokenism, hired an Armenian anchorwoman, Ana Kasparian (who has shown herself to be a person with no integrity whatsoever) in the most "I can't be racist I have Black friends" move possibly ever committed.

He only apologized for his decades of genocide support and denialism when he was running for office in California as an obvious PR stunt. He STILL has not changed the name of his news organization.

Like, I'm sorry. Can you imagine for a moment, some German-American "Liberal" starts a news site called "The National Socialists," goes on record multiple times denying the Holocaust, and hires a Jewish anchorwoman to deflect criticism? And then people just,,, treated it like it was normal and okay without questioning it??? He hardly ever even got called out for it except by a handful of educated politicians, and other "liberals" retweeted his hot takes on political issues??? That his outright support of genocide wasn't even considered relevant enough to make his WIKIPEDIA PAGE despite having NAMED HIS NEWS ORG AFTER THE NAZIS????

Cenk Uygur is a genocide denier and supporter, plain and simple and I don't care if he has political opinions that I sometimes agree with, because I for one am not such a hypocrite that I will refuse to call out evil and disgusting behavior from people "on my side." I do not want to see people reblogging his takes on Palestine, because even if I agree with him on the Palestinian Genocide, the LAST person whose opinion I'll respect on such a topic is that of a fucking Genocide Enjoyer. He is a misogynistic, cripplingly arrogant (he tried to run for President in 2024, despite having held NO political office and not being a born U.S. citizen, which whether or not you agree with it, is a requirement) genocide denier who STILL profits off of the name of the regime that brutally slaughtered one million innocent people for their ethnicity.

Fuck Cenk Uygur, and if you are aware of what he has done and what the (original ) Young Turks have done, and you still support The Young Turks, fuck you. You are not a progressive and you are not anti-genocide as you think you are, if at all.

[dark-elf-writes]

You ever run on the edge of exhaustion for days and are more than a little convinced you’ll never write again when a scene hits you so hard you have to write it out right that moment or explode?

Anyway, Leaf House Cloud snippet anyone?

“Where did you get that?” Tseng asked when Cloud produced a bottle from seemingly nowhere once they had found an empty stretch of roof to sit, the night still too young to retire but neither of them wanting to deal with the press of the crowds below.

(A professional hazard, the paranoia. Still the view of Midgar at night was hardly the worst in the world.)

One day Cloud would stop surprising him, but tonight, with a stolen bottle of wine in his hands and a darkly amused smile on his lips, would not be that night. It was fortunate that mischief was such a good look on him. More fortunate still that Tseng was no shining beacon of morality himself.

“The table next to ours had… opinions on the nature of our relationship and on what, exactly, a ‘slum rat’ like me is useful for to a man like you.” While his time in Midgar had gentled the Nibel drawl to Cloud’s words to anyone who didn’t know to listen for it, there was no mistaking the underplate accent. One intentionally learned.

(“The kids are more comfortable with someone that sounds like them,” Cloud had explained once, nodding to where a little girl was hanging off of Reno’s arm while she chattered at him. “It feels like home.”)

The smile Cloud sent him was all Nibel, however. Wild and full of far too many teeth to be polite. A wolf in the skin of a man. All too bright eyes and deceptive strength hidden in his slight form.

Tseng had never seen someone more beautiful.

“Figured if they were going to treat me like a rat, I might as well get something out of it. Payment for being their dinner entertainment.” The ice in those softly glowing blue eyes said enough about exactly the kind of conversation their fellow restaurant goers had been having.

(Perhaps it was fortunate that they had only spoken loud enough for Cloud’s enhanced senses to catch. Tseng was not nearly so forgiving.)

“Some might think that proving them wrong is the greater revenge.”

Cloud turned to him, pointing the top of the bottle at him in accusation. “Are you going honorable on me, Turk?”

Tseng wondered if Cloud saw the irony of the most honorable man Tseng knew, albeit in his own way, throwing the word at him like a curse. Still, it wasn’t worth ruining their night by pointing it out.

“With a vintage that fine as your prize? Hardly. Though it is a crime to drink it straight from the bottle.”

Cloud’s laugh was little more of a huff of air as he pulled out a knife, Reno’s old knife by the looks of it, cruelly serrated and certainly overkill for the poor cork, and carefully worked it in at an angle. When the cork popped free Cloud looked back up at him with that wild smile. “I can drink it all myself, if you want.”

Tseng took the bottle and tipped his head back for a long drink. As fine as the wine was, Cloud’s laughter was far more intoxicating.

Midgar didn’t have parks. Was far too well lit to see the stars. But seeing Cloud with his jacket open and legs dangling over the side of the roof, Tseng wondered if this was the feeling romantics chased with grand gestures and over the top spectacles. There would be no epic poem for their story, no record of their love forever immortalized in words to be repeated night after night in an opulent theater full of the exact type of person Cliud would steal from as compensation. There was only this moment. Only the two of them suspended above the city with Mako smoke burning their lungs and alcohol burning in their veins.

It was enough for him. Enough for Cloud too it seemed, when the man leaned into Tseng’s side as he regaled him with a tale of one of the many times he had send the Don’s thugs running from his little safe haven in the slums.

No epic tales, no eternal love story. Only Cloud and Tseng and and the blood that stained both of their hands.

It was far better than LOVELESS any day.

[banorawhite]

Right back at you lol—top 6 fav books?

NOOOOOO DON'T ASK THE LIBRARIAN THISSSSS *stares blankly at my shelves* i love you all......

ok to answer this, i've had to narrow down my options to only young adult fiction. if i included all the middle grade, adult, graphic novels, comics, manga and poetry i have read, i would truly not know how to start (and this still felt impossible)

with that let's begin!

six of crows duology by leigh bardugo - this will always be my #1. my ultimate comfort read. these fantastic characters pulled me rough a really rough time in my life, where constantly reread these books to keep me grounded. inej ghafa the character you are. i love my crime found family

the other side of perfect by mariko turk - this book fully revitalised a love of reading for me after uni. i sat down one day and basically finished it in one sitting, just could not put it down

legendborn series by tracey deonn - worldbuilding! character development! the magic!!! all TOP NOTCH. so incredibly excited for book three, i might have to reread the first two to prepare

the lesbiana's guide to catholic school + the luis ortega surival club by sonora reyes - holyyyy shit. um basically after tlgtcs, which became my favourite read that year, i decided i would read whatever sonora reyes ever wrote. both books are FANTASTIC, cannot recommend them enough.

the gilded wolves trilogy by roshani chokshi - divine. i love fantasy heist novels and these were phenomenal. the ending absolutely got to me

cannot separate last night at the telegraph club by malinda lo or i feed her to the beast (and the beast is me) by jamison shea. both books changed me and made me stare into the distance when i finished.

some honorable mentions because i love so many books (beneath the cut this gets long)

A Clash of Steel by C.B. Lee

Cemetery Boys and The Sunbearer Trials by Aiden Thomas

Confessions of an Alleged Good Girl by Joya Goffney

Darius the Great is Not Okay by Adib Khorram

Euphoria Kids by Alison Evans

Girl, Serpent, Thorn by Melissa Bashardoust

Gwen and Art are Not in Love by Lex Croucher

Off the Record by Camryn Garrett

I'll Be the One by Lyla Lee

Juliet Takes a Breath by Gabby Rivera

The History of Mischief by Rebecca Higgie

The Killing Code by Ellie Marney

Two Can Play That Game by Leanne Yong (bonus: my coworkers had to listen to me complain on friday that this book didn't get any awards for children's book week!!! I WAS MAD)

there are more but i'll leave it here <3

[gayscifi]

Thoughts on My Own Jewishness and the Palestinian Genocide

FREE PALESTINE 🇵🇸

(very long post)

My name is Tal, it's a Hebrew name meaning morning dew. I'm transgender and picked my name over 10 years ago because I am proud of being Jewish and wanted an obviously Jewish name. I'm 27, poor, disabled and a transgender man in a gay relationship with a cis Muslim man. I want you to have all of that context before I tell you how I feel about the current genocide of the Palestinians, the State of Isreal and my relationship to these things as a Jew.

I didn't know I was Jewish until my grandmother died when I was 12. After she died my brothers, cousins and I were put in charge of sorting through her things. We found her menorah, shabbat candle holders and kosher dishes. We were young and frankly uneducated, it was years of my eldest brother and others putting the pieces together and finding records of our family when we began to understand who we were.

Our great grandparents, on both my grandfather and grandmother's side were smuggled into America from Germany and Poland through the Houston port by a Rabbi near the beginning of WW2, the port that I've lived next to for most of my life. My grandparents were born in the Houston area and were, as I understand it "Catholic outside and Jewish at home". My grandfather's father returned to Poland after the Holocaust to try and find members of his family, he killed himself with a shogun through the head shortly after returning to the U.S, when my grandfather was still a teenager.

My grandmother had almost a dozen siblings, most of her sisters died in mental institutions and several of her brothers had killed themselves or died of overdose, my grandfather also had a dozen siblings, they had similar fates. My grandparents were alcoholics and are now both dead.

My father and his 3 siblings grew up going to Catholic school not understanding the language his parents spoke to each other or why his family was so different from the others around him. Not until my grandmother died and all the secrets began to pour out.

By the time I was 14, everyone was starting to put the pieces together. My grandparents had bought a piece of land miles away from any town when I was a baby. They hoarded films, art, music, world history books, encyclopedias, several freezers full of food, pantries of non-perishables, more guns and ammo than I ever thought anyone could use and liquor they would knock back every day with cartons of cigarettes that made the house smell like a chimney. That was their way of coping, shut the world out, be ready for the next Holocaust. Of course all of this would lead my family to believe that we were Ashkenazi Jews.

My parents had gone on a trip to Turkey before I was born and fell in love with it. My entire life it was their dream to return and raise their family there but between my father being a plant worker and mechanic and my mother a substitute teacher. It wasn't until I was 17 that we finally moved, not because we had the money but because my mother needed to be the primary source of income since my father had begun suffering from cancer. Selling most of our belongings and my mom getting a job as an English teacher finally brought my family to Turkey. My dad got to spend some of his final years there before he died.

We moved to a port city on the Black Sea near the Georgian border named Trabzon. Strangely, I felt at home immediately. I had learned Turkish enough to go out, make friends and get a part time job within 6 months. My father and I didn't read as foreigners to the locals at all, in fact many elder people would come up to me speaking Lazca, the language of the Laz people, one of the many small Caucus tribes in the region, assuming I was Laz myself and could help translate for them to Turks in the city.

There were very few foreigners in the city and most of us knew each other since most of us taught at the foreign language schools. One of the teachers I was friends with was a boy, now a man, my same age, who was born and raised in a refugee camp in Jordan. His father, Palestinian and his mother, Cherkess(another Caucus tribe who had been displaced). He spoke 4 different languages and taught Arabic and English at the same school I worked at.

We became fast friends, being the youngest(only 18 at the time) at the school. Both his parents and mine were wary of our closeness but we genuinely didn't understand their issues with our friendship.

He told me about growing up in the camps in Jordan, he told me about being Palestinian and Cherkess and not being able to go to either of his homes. I told him about being Jewish and how my identity was kept secret for generations for the safety of my family.

He asked me what I thought about Isreal and to be honest this was my first time thinking of it, since I'd only been to a synagogue a handful of times and hadn't been subject to Zionist propaganda in American Jewish spaces. He told me about Zionism from a Palestinian perspective, how he had watched the news for years hearing about his cousins and other family members dying at the hands of the IDF.

I found it appalling, how could Jewish people, my people, be doing such atrocities to others after what I known we had been through. The Holocaust, the genocide of my people had left scars on every member of my family that had made most of them unable to continue living.

That conversation, just months into our years long friendship has shaped me into the person I am today. He gave me a Keffiyeh that night and I told him that I would never go to Palestine until we could go together. We cried for a long time that night, sharing stories.

After living in Turkey and learning more about the different Caucus tribes in the region my eldest brother and I determined the origin of our last name. A Turkic name, not German or Polish, meaning that my family was not entirely Ashkenazi but instead from the Black Sea Region, most likely the small Jewish Crimean tribe called Krymchak, the majority of the whom died in the Holocaust and I had been unknowingly living the closest to home that my family had in generations. In Turkey, on the Black Sea, not in Isreal.

I am proud of being Jewish. I love how I have found my identity and am part of the first generation of my family since the Holocaust to be authentic in my ethnicity. Zionism will never take that away from me. Zionism is a lie, an evil, manipulative, murderous political agenda. I have not and will never be a part of it and it will never take my Jewishness away from me.

I have found more in common with Palestinians I have met through protesting Isreal, more in common with ethnic minorities protesting U.S. imperialism, more in common with other displaced minorities than I have ever found with Isreal.

The genocide of the Palestinians is always on my mind but I feel no guilt as a Jewish person. I know I am not to blame nor have I ever been complicit in this genocide but to my fellow Jews, who are in pro-Zionist, pro-Isreali spaces, I am calling for a radical change in those communities, wake the fuck up.

Fuck Isreal, fuck Zionism, fuck American and European Imperialism and fuck antisemitism. I have a particular hatred for these so called "Pro-Jewish" actions happening in North America and Europe. German civilians knew of the death camps during the Holocaust and did nothing. Now their children and grandchildren are saying that Palestinians are anitsemites while they live on the wealth and land they extracted from dead Jews.

The rise of global antisemitism is in part because of the State of Isreal, because of Zionism, because of the atrocities committed by Jewish people, their twisted, evil and cruel treatment of Palestinians for years that has led to genocide. Supporting Palestinians in their struggle against annihilation is not and will never be antisemitism and to say it is shows how little you understand Jewish or Palestinian history.

Recognize Zionism for what it truly is; a way for powerful nations to rid themselves of their Jewish populations and use them as cannon fodder for control over land and resources in the Middle East. Joe Biden said it himself "If Israel didn't exist, we would have to invent it." This is not a war for a "safe home for the Jewish people", it is an ethnic cleansing of Palestinians to claim power and control.

Palestinians have every right to resist annihilation. My heart aches, knowing deeply what genocide does to those who remain.

I will continue to support the Palestinian cause in every way I know how.

From the River to the Sea,

Palestine will be Free 🇵🇸

[diceriadelluntore]

Storia Di Musica #312 - The xx, The xx, 2009

Il mese dei dischi dallo stesso titolo dei propri autori si chiude con una scelta più recente, e spero creativa. La musica degli ultimi anni ha bisogno di sedimentarsi, per tutta una serie di ragioni (il modo in cui se ne fruisce, lo scenario generale in cui nasce, lo stesso ruolo della musica che è cambiato in pochi anni) al netto della qualità che rappresenta: sebbene la patente di “classico” nella musica si dà con una certa facilità e spesso anche secondi criteri più discutibili del solito, ci sono stati artisti negli ultimi anni che hanno dato contribuito eccellenti alla storia della musica popolare occidentale (che è quella che maggiormente rappresento qua, solo per questo l’ho specificato). E la sensazione a volte che non si era sbagliato la si ha dopo un po’ di tempo, nemmeno poi tanto, basta un riascolto dopo pochi anni per arricchire le sensazioni che si provavano al primo ascolto a caldo (o per cambiarle in maniera diametralmente negativa, può benissimo succedere così). Il disco di oggi ci porta a Londra nella prima metà degli anni 2000, ad un gruppo di ragazzi che frequenta la Elliot School di Putney: questa è una cosiddetta sixth form college, una scuola di potenziamento pre-universitario dove i ragazzi dai 16 ai 19 anni studiano a livello più avanzato alcune discipline. Qui si incontrano 4 studenti: Romy Madley Croft, cantante e chitarrista, Oliver Sim, bassista e cantante, Jamie Smith, tastiere e ritmica elettronica e la tastierista Baria Qureshi. Tutto inizia su Myspace, leggendario social network fondato nel 2003 da Tom Anderson, dove la musica dei quattro con i testi di Crof e Sim è condivisa con dei primi demo, embrioni delle canzoni che arriveranno di lì a poco. Scelgono un nome interessante (siamo nel 2005): The xx, perché avevano tutti appena compiuto venti anni (e XX è venti in numeri romani), perché in inglese si pronuncia come “excess” e poi perché le due “x” richiamano alla mente le tre che caratterizzano i prodotti pornografici. Nel giro di qualche anno, si fanno un nome nei piccoli club per la loro musica intrigante, un mix elegante e misterioso di elettronica, con guizzi romantici e di atmosfera, dovuti alle due bellissime voci di Croft e Sim, che si completano a meraviglia; nel frattempo Jamie Smith sceglie il nome d’arte di Jamie xx. Alcuni loro demo arrivano ad una piccola etichetta indipendente, la Young Turks Record, che li affida alle cure di un giovane produttore scozzese, Rodaidh McDonald, che proprio con gli XX inizierà una proficua carriera come produttore di musica di qualità.

Le registrazioni furono effettuate in un piccolo garage adibito a studio nella zona di Ladbroke Grove, a Londra, nel 2008, quasi sempre di sera e di notte, anche con idee un po’ strane: le linee di basso di Sim furono registrate dal bassista nel corridoio adiacente, per avere un suono più ovattato, e la caratteristica di musica “notturna” pervade tutto il disco. The xx esce a maggio del 2009 ed è un disco d’esordio che non passa inosservato. In piena “mania” di definizioni musicali, il loro è un album che ha molteplici influenze (tracce di post-punk, dream pop, dubstep, indie pop e R&B compaiono a impulsi qua e là) ma si concentrano in canzoni tanto semplici quanto uniche e misteriose, eleganti, ma che vibrano di emozioni e hanno degli arrangiamenti che spiazzano per la loro impeccabile luminosità. I battiti pulsano anziché schiantarsi; le chitarre sono pizzicate e pizzicate ad arte; e la voce raramente supera un sospiro malinconico, considerazione che quasi stride non solo con la musica che all’epoca li circondava (il nu metal, il nuovo r&b, il primo grande dilagare del rap) ma con la stessa irruenza che solitamente le giovani band propongono nei primi lavori. Anche i titoli delle loro canzoni sono il mix perfetto di conciso ed evocativo. Tra le gemme la strumentale Intro, che verrà saccheggiata in decine di programmi tv, serie, pubblicità, ma ha la sua consacrazione durante le Olimpiadi Invernali di Vancouver nel 2010 dove veniva usata come colonna sonora dei momenti precedenti le premiazioni degli atleti. Le chitarre innocenti di VCR suggeriscono la passione della band per l'indie pop radicalmente semplice degli Young Marble Giants; Crystalised, magnifica, è uno dei meravigliosi duetti tra Croft e Sim, che qui sono capaci di portare l’impressione che sia una conversazione tra innamorati, riaffermando cosa significa veramente "cuore a cuore". Il lato più sensuale dello stesso concetto c’è invece nella ritmica Islands (Underneath and unexplored\Islands and cities I have looked\Here I saw\Something I couldn't over look\I am yours now\So now I don't ever have to leave\I've been found out\So now I'll never explore). C’è Infinity che si appoggia più sulle radici post-punk (ed è stupenda, anche nell’interpretazione di Croft), e Heart Skips A Beat ha una ritmica intrigante e complessa. Croft e Sim cantano anche da soli bene nei loro turni solisti (Sim brilla in particolare nella spaziosa Fantasy), ma insieme sono davvero ispirati: Basic Space ne è la prova che c’è chimica tra Croft e Sim, in un brano che sa di anni passati e di meraviglie pop, ma che è comunque ricca di dettagli sottilmente affascinanti (il drum beat e la chitarra un po’ sudamericana).

Tutte le riviste del settore ne sono stregati: il New Musical Express lo inserisce subito nella lista dei 500 dischi migliori di tutti i tempi, Rolling Stone nei 100 migliori album di debutto di sempre, il disco otterrà numerose certificazioni di vendite e proietta i quattro nei festival più famosi del mondo, spesso in apertura a grandi artisti (tra le loro performance più belle, quelle in apertura ai concerti di Florence + The Machine). Ma non tutto va bene: Baria Qureshi, in contrasto con gli altri tre, abbandona il gruppo. Ma la magia non si interrompe: Coexist del 2012 riprende da dove The xx finisce, stavolta in un trio che continuerà ad ammaliare sussurrando le proprie canzoni, come se fosse proibito alzare la voce.

[scotianostra]

25th of April marks  ANZAC Day which commemorates the landing of Australian and New Zealand (Australian and New Zealand Army Corps) troops at Ari Burnu on the Gallipoli  peninsula. Let’s pray that we never see a war like the two  that blighted the 20th century, I only wish that wars everywhere would end……

The song And the Band Played Waltzing Matilda was written by Eric Bogle, who left Scotland and emigrated to Australia at the age of 25, he has lived in the country now for over 50 years. Eric says of the song;

“I wrote it as an oblique comment on the Vietnam War which was in full swing… but while boys from Australia were dying there, people had hardly any idea where Vietnam was. Gallipoli was a lot closer to the Australian ethos – every schoolkid knew the story, so I set the song there.”   Bogle is on record for having regretted the lines  “And the young people ask what are they marching for, and I ask myself the same question.” He realised much later that some people thought he was disrespecting what the soldier’s had done in the war. This was not his intention; he wanted to stress the horror of war.

Let’s remember all that have died, not just at Gallipoli, but worldwide in all wars.

And the Band Played Waltzing Matilda

Now when I was a young man, I carried me pack, And I lived the free life of a rover From the Murray’s green basin to the dusty outback, Well, I waltzed my Matilda all over. Then in 1915, my country said “Son, It’s time you stopped rambling, there’s work to be done”. So they gave me a tin hat, and they gave me a gun, And they marched me away to the war.

And the band played Waltzing Matilda As the ship pulled away from the quay And amidst all the cheers, the flag-waving and tears, We sailed off for Gallipoli.

And how well I remember that terrible day, How our blood stained the sand and the water And of how in that hell that they called Suvla Bay, We were butchered like lambs at the slaughter. Johnny Turk he was waiting, he’d primed himself well He showered us with bullets and he rained us with shell And in five minutes flat, he’d blown us all to hell Nearly blew us right back to Australia.

But the band played Waltzing Matilda, When we stopped to bury our slain. We buried ours, and the Turks buried theirs Then we started all over again.

And those that were left, well we tried to survive, In that mad world of blood, death and fire And for ten weary weeks, I kept myself alive Though around me the corpses piled higher Then a big Turkish shell knocked me arse over head And when I woke up in me hospital bed, And saw what it had done, well I wished I was dead Never knew there was worse things than dying.

For I’ll go no more waltzing Matilda All around the green bush far and free To hump tent and pegs, a man needs both legs No more waltzing Matilda for me.

So they gathered the crippled, the wounded, the maimed And they shipped us back home to Australia The legless, the armless, the blind, the insane Those proud wounded heroes of Suvla And as our ship pulled into Circular Quay, I looked at the place where me legs used to be And thank Christ there was nobody waiting for me To grieve, to mourn, and to pity.

But the band played Waltzing Matilda As they carried us down the gangway But nobody cheered, they just stood and stared Then they turned all their faces away.

And so now every April, I sit on me porch, And I watch the parade pass before me. And I see my old comrades, how proudly they march Reviving old dreams of past glories And the old men march slowly, old bones stiff and sore They’re tired old heroes from a forgotten war And the young people ask “What are they marching for?” And I ask meself the same question.

But the band plays Waltzing Matilda And the old men still answer the call, But as year follows year, more old men disappear Someday no one will march there at all.

Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda, who’ll come a-waltzing Matilda with me? And their ghosts may be heard as they march by that billabong Who’ll come a-waltzing Matilda with me?

[roleplay-abiogenesis2]

@projecth-aileth​ || Continued from here.

Things were changing around the Labs, not that it was something she understood the reason for, only that the atmosphere had been odd for a while.

To those that recognized, the slender figure bore a striking resemblance to both source material and a ‘misplaced asset’ under surveillance. Some conceited attempt to reproduce and improve on a previous project the triumph and failure of his life. However this one had been a source of irritating disappointment nearly from the start. Precious limited materials producing only four specimens. Of those, one survived, and had yet to even reach her predecessors records. Of course, that had nothing to do with being treated as less than a living thing.

Head slowly moving towards the sound of the heavy security door opening; pallid face tilting as she turned, sending silver hair spilling over both shoulders and back. Draconic eyes took in the stranger, their mako colour sparking at something new before suddenly darting to the floor. Any interest quickly, forgotten with the voice over the speakers.

“Good you’re here.” both flat and impatient, they didn’t wait for any response. “By accessing containment, clearance is authorized. Please note Handler safety is priority, however not guaranteed.” Brief and slightly hostile, the speaker abruptly cutting off with a sharp screech. Whatever happens wasn’t their issue anymore; the ones that would be responsible was the Turks now.

There hadn’t been any incidents of late, but the lab technicians still did what they could to avoid the experiment. Putting several measures and methods between her and them. White-coats, the researchers, butchers the ones that did everything, no matter what in hopes of even the tiniest amount of attention from the professor. Then there were the sadists that took great pleasure in dealing out torture, disguised under the name of science; each following directions from the head of the department- present or not.

Not wanting give this Handler an excuse for corrections so soon and drained from the days testing she stayed put as expected but kept eyes low studying the dark attire. It was… different… Being confined inside labs, the humans that frequently visited never wore anything that colour.

It was a good thing that none of those staff members were physically in the room with them. Or they might have noticed the way the young Turk’s face had drained its color in that instance.

And questioned it.

That would have been bad. But this wasn’t great either. Just as he’d started to get used to the notion that Sephiroth - the core of his own personal resolution to join ShinRa and take it down from the inside - had actually perished while on a mission in Nibelheim just some months ago, not by Saruhiko’s hand but his own doing, here came another of those things.

A new abomination of Professor Hojo, the man he’d been forsaken by and forsaken himself.

Even without being an expert in genetics or bioengineering, the similarities were too many for his guess to be incorrect.

The agent quickly retrieved his composure, well aware to be under observation even at this very moment. The lips that had pressed into a thin line hid the swallow of an unpleasant knot in his throat.

‘No matter. Just another name to the list.’

He’d take her out like any of the clones he’d identified and silently eliminated without the company’s notice.

It’d just be... far more complicated than those. It was one thing to ambush a sickly figure in a corner of the slums and make them disappear without a trace. A subject personally observed and contained within ShinRa HQ, however...

For now, he’d play along. For as long as the mind behind Project Jenova existed, his position within the company was too important to be put on the line. He’d never been this close to Hojo as here and now.

Play the loyal dog for one more day; he’d waited twenty years, he could wait longer.

“Right, then...” He muttered under his breath, scanning the girl with blue eyes ever so sharp despite the lazy expression of his features. An unfortunate genetic heritage along with his short-sightedness helped only by his square-shaped glasses.

He saw no restraints of any kind.

“Are you going to behave, just walking with me?”

[ruminativerabbi]

Rage and Regret

Dear Friends,

One of the surprises Jerusalem offered up to us shortly after we bought our apartment and began to explore the neighborhood was a peaceful cemetery just a few blocks from our street in which are interred 79 Indian soldiers who served with the Egyptian Expeditionary Force during the First World War, as well as the bodies of 290 Turkish prisoners-of-war who died while in British captivity. So it is a strange place, that cemetery: a Hindu burial ground in which are also buried hundreds of Muslims who fell far from home and who had to be buried somewhere. There are no individual graves; the British apparently decided to bury the dead in two mass graves, one for the Hindus and one for the Muslims. Facing stone monuments record the names of the dead.

We’ve walked by many times; Joan’s cousin Rina used to live just down the road. It’s a peaceful place, a quiet place. But it never fails to strike me how strange the whole concept is: hundreds and hundreds of young men who died in a war fought basically over nothing at all in a distant place and who were then shoveled into a common pit (why do I think white soldiers would have been buried in separate graves?) and left to sleep in the earth in a place that none of them would ever have thought to call home.

Walking by that place never fails to re-awaken in me my recollection of Joan’s and my visit to the Beersheva War Cemetery, the resting place of more than 1200 soldiers from the U.K., Australia, New Zealand, and India. It’s also a peaceful place, well-tended, verdant, and well watched over by the Commonwealth War Graves Commission. But what is shocking about the place are the stones themselves: row after row after row featuring the graves of young men, some just teenagers, who died on the same horrific day in 1917. It was a terrible day, too. By the beginning of October in 1917, the British forces under the leadership of General Edmund Allenby were well entrenched along the Gaza-Beersheba road with the intention of seizing Beersheva from the Turks. By the end of the month, all was ready. And on October 31, the battle was joined. The attack was led by the 800 men of the 4th Australian Light Horse Brigade, brave souls who leapt on horseback over the Turkish trenches and continued on into Beersheva, while other branches of the army attacked the Turkish legions from the side. In the end, the attack was successful and the Turks were soundly defeated. In many ways, in fact, the tide of war turned against the Ottoman Turks at Beersheva. And, indeed, before a year passed, the war was over and Turkish Palestine, wrested from the Ottomans, was handed over by the League of Nations to the British.

But the cemetery has its own story to tell. Now shady and peaceful, the silence is more ominous than calming as you enter through the shady gate and come across row after row after row of young men who died, all of them, on October 31, 1917. The place is well worth visiting, but what the experience yields, or at least what it yielded in me, was a deep sense of sorrow, of loss, of the true tragedy of war. Young men who should have been planning their lives, their weddings, their careers, their futures…instead dead as part of the incomprehensible madness that was the First World War and planning nothing at all other than an eternity of moldering far from home in someone else’s soil.

That many of the dead at Beersheva were veterans of Gallipoli only makes the story even more tragic and more poignant. (I saw Peter Weir’s film, Gallipoli, when it came out in 1981 and still remember the harrowing effect it had on me. If any readers are still laboring under the delusion that war can be glorious, Gallipoli really is a must-see.)

And that brings me to Gaza. To most, Gaza is a strip of land that has been ruled over by too many different foreigners since its glory days as ancient Philistia. The Romans, the Crusaders, the Mamelukes, the Turks, the Egyptians, and the Israelis all tried their hand at governing the place; I get the sense from my reading that all of the above couldn’t leave fast enough once the opportunity presented itself. (And, yes, I know there are people in Israel now demonstrating in the streets in an attempt to provoke the government into re-establishing Jewish settlements in Gaza. Those people, with all respect, are living in a self-generated dream state fully divorced from reality.)

But Gaza has its own Jewish dead to consider. And I do not mean by that to reference the fallen of the current IDF campaign.

There was a very touching piece in the paper the other day about Israeli troops coming across Jewish graves in Gaza. And, indeed, the Gaza War Cemetery, established in 1920, contains the graves of over 3000 British and Commonwealth soldiers who died in the First, Second, and Third Battles of Gaza. And some of those soldiers were Jewish, which fact was duly recorded on their tombstones. I suppose the idea was that the IDF soldiers felt a sense of kinship with the Jewish soldiers buried in that place, which is almost an ordinary thought, but somehow the story—by Troy O. Fritzhand, which I read in the Algemeiner (click here)—affected me in a less expected way as well.

I understand the logic behind the Israeli war against Hamas. I have no trouble with Israel going to war with the forces of evil, with people whose hatred of Israel and its Jews expressed itself on October 7 with almost unimaginable barbarism and Nazi-style brutality. Nor do I have any trouble with the notion that, when fighting a war against evil, the only true sin is to lose. I hate the thought of civilian casualties. But I also understand that the fact that the hostages have been held now for more than 120 days means that time is running out. All that, I get. But part of me feels the weight of tragedy pressing down as I read the news day after day.

I hate Hamas for having started this war. I grieve daily for the 1200 Israelis murdered, maimed, and raped on October 7. I can’t stop thinking about the 225 IDF soldiers who have died so far in this terrible war. And I think about the Hamas soldiers too—each a victim of his own fanaticism and willingness to die as part of an army of terror, but each also once an innocent babe who could have grown up to live a peaceful, productive life, who could have brought joy instead of unimaginable misery to the world. And, of course, I think also of the civilians of Gaza, people who, yes, put Hamas into power and who are now paying the awful price for that colossal error of judgment, but the large majority of whom could surely not have imagined October 7 and its aftermath.

To know with certainty that you are on the right side of a war does not make the war less tragic. Nor does it make it any less crucial that you win. But the tragedy feels overwhelming. I wasn’t alive when the Allies carpet-bombed Germany, but I think I would have felt the same way about the 600,000+ civilians who died during those bombing campaigns, which number includes about 76,000 children. The Allied leadership did what they perceived to be necessary to win the war, which they did. But my response to the civilian death toll is not censorious outrage, but deep sadness. How can the Germans have made us do that to them? How can the Japanese have created a situation in which Hiroshima was imaginable, let alone actually doable? And how can Hamas have created this situation in which the only way to rescue our hostages is to go in on foot to find them and liberate them from their captors’ control? The civilian deaths in Gaza are, in my opinion, all on Hamas. But that doesn’t make them less tragic.

And those are my emotions this week: weariness (because I am so tired of this burden of worry and anxiety), outrage (because what kind of people can have thrust this upon us?), terrible sadness (because of the children of Gaza, all innocents, who are paying the terrible price for their parents’ bad decisions), resolve (because if not me, then who?), and, despite everything, hope (because the God of Israel neither slumbereth nor sleepeth, and surely, at least eventually, light always wins out over darkness).  I continue to pray, even more fervently than in the past months, for peace, for resolution, and for victory. I’m feeling the burden of it all. I suppose we all are. But the mitzvah of pidyon shvuyim, of redeeming those held in captivity, is key here: defeating evil is the means, but bringing the captives home is the goal. And that’s what I’m praying for, day in and day out.

[gcldfanged]

[Cas had a neat timeline going for Tseng, so I used it as a base to create a list of important events for Jae.]

[ μ ] – εγλ 1980: Ji-ho and Seo-yeon born on May 10th as twins, Seo-yeon considered “eldest” by mere seconds.

[ μ ] – εγλ 1987 (Age 7): Ji-tae and Sun-ah send children to be raised by maternal grandfather, Sang-hun in the northern mountains of Haneul.

[ μ ] – εγλ 1994 (Age 14): Sang-hun dies, Ji-ho and Seo-yeon are sold by their parents to human traffickers and are smuggled to Junon, then Midgar.

Seo-yeon disappears/is killed(?), Ji-ho is groomed by Masa and his gang.

[ μ ] – εγλ 1995 (Age 15): Masa’s gang killed by Veld due to being involved in prostitution and human trafficking (they outlive their usefulness as informants for Shinra), Ji-ho kills Masa and is temporarily taken in by Veld. Ji-ho convinces Veld to train her as a Turk agent. 

Ji-ho becomes ‘Jae-hyo Yoon 'on legal records, starts taking HRT.

Is basically like Veld's little butler most of the time: he cooks for him, cleans, rolls his cigarettes, does laundry when he's not training.

[ μ ] – εγλ 1997 (Age 17): Verdot hospitalized after failed mission in Costa, Jae meets Tseng for the first time very briefly while attending to his mentor.

Gets top surgery.

Village of Kalm carpet-bombed.

[ μ ] – εγλ 1998 (Age 18): Given codename “Rifle” and is assigned to back up senior agents in the field as a sniper (wields a .50 cal BMG).

Young!Jae is quiet and srs all the gd time, he's always got his ears and eyes on everything, ppl think he's fucking creepy because he can go for weeks not talking to anyone/being isolated in the field to get that perfect shot, he basically studies his target intimately to learn their routines, habits, and even adopts their personalities.

Sees Two-Guns/Ruluf in passing and takes a shine to him, begins to alter his personality and style to better suit the type of person the other agent would hang out with.

[ μ ] – εγλ 1999 (Age 19): Jae-hyo becomes more involved with immigrant families in Midgar and begins building his criminal empire by running local lotteries, supervising gambling dens, and holding onto funds from protected clientele.

Gets snake-bite piercings.

Meets Sung-Hoon Min and opens a restaurant that is a cover for their base of gang-related operations.

[ μ ] – εγλ 0000 (Age 20): Re-assigned codename “Whip”, specializes in infiltration and intelligence gathering.

Turks kidnap Shelke Rui.

Genesis Rhapsodos defects/SOLDIER Mass Desertion happens.

Wutai surrenders & Haneul is officially annexed by Shinra.

Village of Banora is razed.

[ ν ] - εγλ 0001 (Age 21): 

Wutai War officially ends.

AVALANCHE attacks begin.

[ ν ] - εγλ 0002 (Age 22): Assigned to monitor Sephiroth/Nibelheim Incident takes place.

Stays behind with Verdot to destroy evidence of the Nibelheim Incident.

[ ν ] - εγλ 0003 (Age 23): 

Shotgun/Freyja falls into a coma after Corel is destroyed, leaving Jae-hyo incredibly distraught.

Verdot deserts to pursue Elfe/Felicia, Tseng promoted as Leader of the Turks. Jae-hyo refuses to kill his mentor, but defers to Tseng as acting leader.

[ ν ] - εγλ 0007 (Age 27): #Everything happens so much (literally).

Zirconade destroyed and majority of Turks go into hiding.

Verdot shot by Tseng, Jae is led to believe he and Elfe are dead.

Rufus Shinra saves the remaining Turks (including Jae-hyo) from execution and demands their loyalty. 

OG FF7/Remake begins.

Rufus Shinra succeeds his father as Head of the company.

[renee-writer]

Young Turks Chapter 8

AO3

“They must be with a mate, right? They can’t afford anything else.” The Fraser’s and Beauchamp ‘s gather at Lallybroch. Harriet is happy exploring the grounds as the adults talk.

 

Julia ‘s question lingers in the still air.

 

“Does your son have money?” Henry adds after the silence gets oppressive.

 

“He was working on farms around here. I don’t know how much he managed to save.” Brian answers. They sit in the great room. His wife sits beside him, holding tight to his hand.

 

“Wonderful! They could have their own place!” Henry is unable to sit and paces in front of the fireplace.

 

“Honey.” Julia tried to sooth him.

 

“Julia, our daughter is out there somewhere, married and doing, one would suppose, what married people do. You want to correct my tone!”

 

“They are teenagers. Aye, Jamie was working and saving, but do we really think, considering all the records and other things he left in his room, that he managed to save enough to get a flat?” Ellen’s reasonable reply cuts the growing tension some.

 

“A good point. So mates. We have reached out to all Claire’s  mates, that we know of, no one admits to sheltering them.”

 

The Fraser’s nod at Julia’s  statement.

 

“We have done the same for Jamie’s. The issue is, at their ages, they have mates we don’t know about.” Ellen replies.

 

“We visit everyone, talk with their parents. If there is a hidden person sheltering them, someone will know.” A calmer Henry adds.

 

“Very good.” Brian nods.

[eruverse]

But really, Mongolia and his descendants and cousins (the Turks) are all generally young if compared to the East Asians. This also has to do with their lack of written history (because they’re nomads) but precisely because of that we don’t know much about their lives before a certain period of time. Still, we can only divulge from what we alrd know of. The word ‘Mongol’ was only first known from Tang dynasty record (8th century). The first Mongol-only confederation was in 10th century around iirc. The word ‘Turk’ was only first known from the Gokturk Khaganate (5th century). This period of time alrd looks ultra old from nomadic viewpoint. While for China and Japan, they seem like they are alrd advanced by this period (bc they have more historical records).

Edit: but because I want to have fun, I want to make Mongolia alrd existing by Gokturk period as a nameless kid. Just an excuse for me to draw Gokturk and kid Mongolia in the same panel. Mongolia’s actual birth certificate tho (it’s like how some ppl are actually older than what’s written in their birth certificate) is around 9-10th century tho

[theyoungturks]

The 2021 audio of former president Donald Trump laughing and admitting to hoarding classified documents that details U.S. military plans to attack Iran. Cenk Uygur and Ana Kasparian discuss on The Young Turks. https://shoptyt.com/collections/justice-is-coming Watch TYT LIVE on weekdays 6-8 pm ET. http://youtube.com/theyoungturks/live Read more HERE: https://www.businessinsider.com/leaked-audio-trump-says-has-secret-document-cannot-declassify-it-2023-6 "In leaked audio from 2021, published Monday by CNN, former President Donald Trump is about as direct as he can be in acknowledging that he knows a document he has is "secret," that it has not been declassified, and that if he were still president he could declassify it. The audio appears to fly in the face of what has been Trump's defense since the FBI raided his Mar-a-Lago resort and residence last year: that he had declassified all the documents he had, even though there was no record of him having done so." *** The largest online progressive news show in the world. Hosted by Cenk Uygur and Ana Kasparian. LIVE weekdays 6-8 pm ET. Help support our mission and get perks. Membership protects TYT's independence from corporate ownership and allows us to provide free live shows that speak truth to power for people around the world. See Perks: ▶ https://www.youtube.com/TheYoungTurks/join SUBSCRIBE on YOUTUBE: ☞ http://www.youtube.com/subscription_center?add_user=theyoungturks FACEBOOK: ☞ http://www.facebook.com/TheYoungTurks TWITTER: ☞ http://www.twitter.com/TheYoungTurks INSTAGRAM: ☞ http://www.instagram.com/TheYoungTurks TWITCH: ☞ http://www.twitch.com/tyt 👕 Merch: http://shoptyt.com ❤ Donate: http://www.tyt.com/go 🔗 Website: https://www.tyt.com 📱App: http://www.tyt.com/app 📬 Newsletters: https://www.tyt.com/newsletters/ If you want to watch more videos from TYT, consider subscribing to other channels in our network: The Watchlist https://www.youtube.com/watchlisttyt Indisputable with Dr. Rashad Richey https://www.youtube.com/indisputabletyt Unbossed with Nina Turner https://www.youtube.com/unbossedtyt The Damage Report ▶ https://www.youtube.com/thedamagereport TYT Sports ▶ https://www.youtube.com/tytsports The Conversation ▶ https://www.youtube.com/tytconversation Rebel HQ ▶ https://www.youtube.com/rebelhq TYT Investigates ▶ https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCwNJt9PYyN1uyw2XhNIQMMA #TYT #TheYoungTurks #BreakingNews 230627__TA01TrumpDocs by The Young Turks