dudes with lambs

The Anarchists vs. the Islamic State

Brace Belden before a battle in Syria in November. Courtesy of Brace Belden

By Seth Harp for The Rolling Stone. February 14, 2017 [x]

On the front lines of Syria with the young American radicals fighting ISIS

On the morning of his first battle, Brace Belden was underdressed for the cold and shaky from a bout of traveler’s diarrhea. His Kurdish militia unit was camped out on the front line with ISIS, 30 miles from Raqqa, in Syria. Fighters stood around campfires of gas-soaked trash, boiling water for tea, their only comfort besides tobacco. “I’ve never been so dirty in my life,” Belden recalls. When the time came to roll out, he loaded a clip into his Kalashnikov and climbed into a makeshift battlewagon, a patchwork of tank and truck parts armored with scrap metal and poured concrete. Belden took a selfie inside its rusty cabin and posted it online with the caption “Wow this freakin taxi stinks.”

The rest of the militia piled into an assortment of minivans, garbage trucks and bulldozers, and rode south into territory ISIS had held for more than three years. Belden was manning a swivel-mounted machine gun, the parched landscape barely visible through the rising dust, when he spotted a car packed with explosives revving across the desert toward the Kurdish column. Before he could shoot, an American fighter jet lacerated the sky and an explosion erupted where the car had been, shaking the earth for miles around.

It was November 6th, 2016. The Kurdish militia known as the YPG – a Kurmanji acronym for People’s Protection Units – had commenced a major offensive to liberate the city that serves as the global headquarters for ISIS. The YPG was backed by U.S. air power and fighting alongside a coalition of Arab and Assyrian militias. Also within their ranks, though scantly reported, was a group of about 75 hardcore leftists, anarchists and communists from Europe and America, Belden among them, fighting to defend a socialist enclave roughly the size of Massachusetts.

Belden, who is 27, started tweeting photos of the front shortly after arriving in Syria in October. The first widely shared image showed him crouched in his YPG uniform, wearing thick Buddy Holly glasses, a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, a stray puppy in one hand and a sniper rifle in the other. “To misquote Celine,” the post read, “when you’re in, you’re in.” He has since amassed 19,000 followers under the handle PissPigGranddad, puzzling the Internet with a combination of leftist invective and scurrilous bro humor. Tweets like “Heading to the Quandil Mountains to lecture the PKK about entitlement reform” are followed by “The dude with the lamb bailed so now we’re fucked for dinner.”

Belden had no military experience before joining the YPG. He lived in San Francisco, where he arranged flowers for a living. Before that, he was a self-described lumpenproletariat, a lowlife punk and petty criminal with a heroin habit who started reading Marx and Lenin seriously in rehab. Once sober, he got involved in leftist causes, marching for tenants’ rights, blocking evictions, protesting police brutality. As he prepared for the Middle East, his girlfriend thought he was going to do humanitarian work. She was “not stoked,” Belden says, to learn that he planned to fight alongside the YPG.

The first phase of the Raqqa offensive was a mission to take Tal Saman, a satellite village of 10,000 people 17 miles north of Raqqa proper. “We pushed up to Tal Saman till we had it surrounded on a half circle,” Belden says, “then we just bombarded the shit out of it.” Refugees poured out of the village, seeking protection behind Kurdish lines. “Hundreds of civilians coming across for days in a row,” Belden says. At night, his unit stayed in whatever building they’d just taken, camped out on rooftops in the excruciating cold. “The first week we were out it was awful,” Belden says. The stepmother of a fellow volunteer from the U.S. had gotten Belden’s number. She kept texting to make sure they were eating enough.

The march on Raqqa slowed to a halt after two weeks, as the YPG consolidated its hold over a string of liberated villages. The YPG controls a region of 4 million people in northern Syria known as Rojava. Its tens of thousands of motivated fighters have been battling ISIS for five years. American as well as French warplanes have been covering their maneuvers with airstrikes for the past two, forcing ISIS off the roads and highways and open desert, and back into the urban strongholds of Mosul and Raqqa. Now, the Kurds are kicking the door down in both cities.

But the YPG is not your typical ethnic or sectarian faction. Its fighters are loyal to an imprisoned guerrilla leader who was once a communist but now espouses the same kind of secular, feminist, anarcho-libertarianism as Noam Chomsky or the activists of Occupy Wall Street. The Kurds are implementing these ideals in Rojava, and that has attracted a ragtag legion of leftist internationals, like Belden, who have come from nearly every continent to help the YPG beat ISIS and establish an anarchist collective amid the rubble of the war – a “stateless democracy” equally opposed to Islamic fundamentalism and capitalist modernity. They call it the Rojava Revolution, and they want you.

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make me choose: will graham or clarice starling [asked by sculys]

anonymous asked:

Will cries in Hannibal's presence, and is all emotional as well, but is Hannibal really, genuiely reaction to that? Because it feels like Hannibal doesn't care at all. He is looking at Will being in despair and he's treating it as cold-heartedly as he can, like Will was some kind of experiment for him.

Just.

The entire show doesn’t make sense if Hannibal doesn’t love Will. That is the center of Hannibal in this show. That’s what drives him apart from his curiosity. 

Hannibal loves Will. He’s effected by Will. He’s changed by Will. He sees Will as the one person in the world who understand him completely, who sees him for who he is and accepts him.

Look 

at this.

Look at this goddamn

cannibal

in genuine goddamn

love.

Don’t even tell me Hannibal doesn’t have genuine emotion for Will. Not only are you wrong, you must not have been watching the show at any point in seasons one through three.

Hannibal is so in love with Will he looks like this

the first time Will touches him and calls what they did and who they are ‘beautiful’. 

aftselakhis//min yoongi

{n.}the desire or impulse to do something because someone else doesn’t want you to, usually to get them annoyed or upset.

Roommate!au.1281 words. Min Yoongi.

⇝ You’re looking for an apartment to move in, the problem is, your roommate isn’t a girl like his name suggests.

Originally posted by imakawaiiwhore

“Alright, apartment two-o-three.” You repeat softly, eyes flitting from the door on your left to the one to your right until you come to a halt at the end of the hallway, standing right in front of the door that has the numbers you’re muttering to yourself.

If this girl is another lazy slob that spends her free time in bed, piles up dirty laundry next to her bed and leaves fucking cookie crumbs all over the place, you are going to flip. But your mind trails back to the reason you decide to move out of the dorm and find an apartment instead; at least there are rooms and you could careless if your roommate has monkeys as pets so long as they keep their monkey business in their room and not trash the whole place.

After two rings, the door swings open. The pearly white smile you put on slowly downturns into a surprised O shaped gawk.

“Uh, I think I got the wrong place. Sorry.” You mumble, turning on your heels.

“Nah, you got it right.” He says, voice hoarse and sounding a little bit grumpy from the wake up call.

“You’re… Suga?”

He nods.

“But you’re not a girl.” You state, pointing out the obvious and regretting it after realizing how stupid you sound.

“No shit.” He scoffs to which you frown at.

“Rude.” You state aloud, not bothering with subtlety as he treads back into the apartment which you notice is quite clean as everything is in place and if you’d walk in and swipe a finger over the surface of the table, you’re almost positive that you’d find no spec of dust on it.

Whether he heard it or not, you’re not sure but he calls over his shoulder, eyes glazing over you and only then you realize how rosy his cheeks are and you’d be damned to think it’s because of you. Probably the temperature.

“If you’re done judging me by my name then you can either choose to come in or leave but close the door either way.”

You rethink your options: one, you can just forget about sharing the apartment with this guy who lied about his gender─ well he didn’t actually lied, the application form didn’t say anything about him being a guy but you kind of just assumed it’s a girl because of his name and what parents name their son Suga? or two, you can suck it and just accept the roommate offer because he seems like the kind of roommate you’d want; not a slob minus his personality but that won’t matter because you won’t be seeing him much because you have classes to attend and those classes usually take up the whole day.

Stepping inside and closing the door behind you, you take idle steps into the stomach of your future place, taking in the white walls that contrast against the leather black couch and marble coffee table. There’s a flat screen stuck in the wall, game consoles neatly stashed under it─ maybe he’s not as boring as he seem to be after all, maybe you two could bond over your love for video games and be best friends for life. A canvas of a street in Paris that leads to the Eiffel Tower hangs on the wall across from the TV─ huh, you didn’t peg him for an artistic kind of person but then again, you didn’t peg him for a girl either.

There’s a rack of vinyls and a record player in the corner by the sliding door that leads to the veranda. But besides that, the room is scarce of any other furniture and that isn’t exactly a bad thing. You’ve always been one for simplicity.

You spot Suga in the kitchen in your journey to venture the place, making a drink by the counter but he pays no mind to you as you do the same, letting you drink in every nook and cranny of the apartment that you might or might not decide to live in.

“Like what you see?” He asks, sipping the beverage he was seen making a minute ago, eyes assessing you.

“What happened to your last roommate?” You inquire out of the blue but he doesn’t look taken aback or remotely surprised, it’s almost as though he’s expecting you to ask that.

“He died. Slipped over a banana peel and hit his head on the edge of the bed. Don’t worry though the cleaners did their best to scrub off the blood. I think.”

For one solid minute, you just stare at him wide eyed, gaping at the sight of the sinister smirk that adorns his handsome features and planning an escape route in your mind. But you learn something about predators and how they can smell fear. If this guy is a predator, he’d be on top of the food chain and you’re already a dead lamb.

“Dude, who slips on banana peels?” You say in a ‘duh’ tone, gaze falling over everywhere to inspect your surrounding until it lands on a set of knives at the edge of the counter.

You’re not sure what to expect but him cracking a smile, a very wide smile and laughing certainly isn’t it. Keeping a straight face, you try not to display the evident awe over how breathtaking he looks laughing. And oh god, his laugh is like the singing of angels. Apparently, you’re not the best at poker face because he sees right through you and the prominent relief that fills your heart when you realize that you won’t be living in a room that someone died in whose blood splatter might or might not still remain somewhere in the room.

“I see you eyeing the knives.” He strides round the counter to meet you, a hand dug into his pocket while another holds the handle of his mug. “Ready for the highlight of the tour?”

Face flushed, you cast your eyes downwards to hide your embarrassment for getting busted for even musing the thought of pulling out one of the knives from the block to stab him in case he happens to be some serial killer. Actually, he does look like someone that would put the banana peel on the floor and not care if the person might actually meet an early demise as long as he can get back at that person for something, and their death would probably be a bonus.

This guy must have some superiority complex because he’s already pacing ahead before you even get the chance to reply. Maybe it’s a rhetorical question, but him leaving like that makes you want to say something, anything, to prove him that no, he can’t just waltz away with the assumption that you have nothing to say─ even though you really don’t.

He’s padding down the hallway, stopping at a door on the right, “This is your room.” He informs the jabs a thumb over his shoulder to point at the door on the left. “That one’s mine, now I don’t care whatever the hell you do so long as you keep it in your room and don’t go into mine. We split the bills into two and take turns doing the chores.”

Remember how he’s laughing before and that makes him seem less hostile and finally warming up to you? Well, scratch that. He’s back to his rude, shitty self again. You didn’t even voice your agreement over moving in. But he’s already laying out ground rules.

“I didn’t even say yes.” You scowl, making your disfavor towards him known.

“Sweetheart, if you liked your dorm so much, you wouldn’t be here right now." 

Throne of Glass Characters as people I've seen/met since I moved to LA

This is inspired by a conversation I had with @baelin-whitethorn about surfer chick!Manon

Aelin: okay listen so I’ve got this friend in college and honestly she’s one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever met; like holy shit I might be ace but damn I would 100% bang her. Also her boobs were 👌🏾👌🏾👌🏾 like all the time; she would hug me while I was sitting down and let me tell you, I died and went to heaven. She’s such a happy-go-lucky person on the outside but she’s dealing with her own issues as well. Both her physical appearance and her personality remind me of Aelin/Celaena.

Rowan: A dude I saw at a Lamb of God concert that real reminded me of Rowan actually 😂 he was all muscular, tall and intimidating but he had the most adorable smile.

Aedion: this “typical” surfer dude (he had the whole tanned skin, 6 pack thing going on) I saw at Venice Beach one day; I frankly was gonna ignore him but a kid was running near him and she fell down and he quickly helped her up and made funny faces so she’d stop crying.

Lysandra: one of my best friend’s; they have a resting bitch face, we love talking shit about everyone (including ourself), and they’re one of the prettiest people I know. Also their contour is on fucking point like literally all the time 😩

Evangeline: this little kid I saw at the play ground while baby sitting my cousin; she was so sneaky and managed to keep scaring him 😂

Manon: A beautiful surfer chick I met in one of my college classes; she was friendly but damn did she look like she’s murdered men with her bare hands

Elide: this cute Italian girl I’m friends with; she’s a nursing major and honestly the smartest, sweetest, most innocent 19 year old I know; I’d probably kill for her if she asked me to.

Asterin: a waitress at a Panera Bread I became friends with; really hot, and confident about herself. I’m p sure that she could kill a dude ngl.

Abraxos: my best friend’s cat; she likes maybe like 3 people tops. She’ll scratch anyone else

Fleetfoot: literally every dog ever, they’re all pure

Have you guys met anyone IRL who reminded you of a ToG character?