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on twitter, a viral thread started where people around the world shared their translations of “If I must die”, the last work of Dr Refaat Alareer also known as "the voice of Gaza". A beloved poet, teacher and life-long activist for Palestine, he was recently assassinated along with members of his extended family by a targeted Israeli air strike. His loss leaves a hole in the heart of palestinians all over the world.
Below the cut, I’ll be posting the translations of his poem, with links to the original posts. Unfortunately, tumblr limits posts to a maximum of 30 images. I will update when I can.
Arabic (Refaat’s mother tongue)
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2. Spanish
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3. Irish
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4. Dutch
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5. Greek
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6. German
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7. Vietnamese
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8. Tagalog
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9. Serbian
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10. Japanese
and the traditional japanese calligraphy version
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11. Nepali
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12. Tamil
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13. Bosnian
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14. Indonesian
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15. Romanian
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16. Italian
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17. Albanian
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18. Urdu
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19. Turkish
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20. Polish
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21. Norwegian
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22. Galician
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23. Swedish
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24. Jawi
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25. Bengali
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26. Russian
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Prompt 249
Danny tilts his head. The masked figure across the roof tilts their head back, a gold similar to Tucker’s eyes shimmering, though he knew it wasn’t him. He lets out a curious chirp, inaudible to the living, and the masked figure stills, as silent as a corpse for several moments before letting out two clicks.
A greeting in turn.
Danny smiles, letting green bleed into his eyes and scurrying over with a croon from his core. I’m here, I’m here, their own core clatters like metal against bone as his responds with the drone of a blackhole. I see you, I see you. I’m HereHereHere.
Yet another twitters in turn, clicking echoing across the city from shadow to shadow until it’s as though the city itself has a heartbeat. Click-click. Click-click. Click-click. I’m here, I’m here, not alone, I’m Here.
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I can’t believe we got an infodump on simple domains AGAIN over a Sukuna backstory.
More complaining under the cut.
Usually I am one to give Gege the benefit of the doubt and will read heavily into what little information we are given. But I can't defend this chapter themes or character wise.
Even if this turns out to be a fakeout, going in painstaking detail over a show-not-tell battle in a way that lacks characterization and heartfelt emotion sucks to read. Even if the new shadow style and simple domain debacle goes somewhere, having it the main focus after an extremely traumatic battle instead of characters processing their emotions sucks to read. Even if Gojo is alive and that's why they're this chipper, everyone ignoring his sacrifice and efforts along with Choso's sucks to read.
I'm happy Yuta and Higuruma are alive but why was their revival off-screened? Yuta was so defensive over Gojo and everyone treating him like an object just 8 chapters ago. What happened to that? Why is everyone treating this battle like it was no big deal? (Also why the fudge did Kusakabe tell Yuji, a 15 year old, to his face he should've been killed while disparaging Gojo for protecting the life of a child???)
After the Shibuya Incident, there was a whole segment dedicated to how this affected the average person. The Culling Games ended and there are still bloodthirsty freaks running around. What happened to them? Is Angel hunting them down and that's why Hana is missing? Infodumping on anything except the battle would've been better.
I doubt we'll get any more info on Sukuna, Kenjaku, and Tengen at this point. We'll be lucky if there's a funeral for even Geto's body. Shoko was absent this entire chapter which makes me thing she's still trying to save Gojo or she's preparing their bodies for a funeral.
Anyways. This is the worst JJK chapter for me hands down. My hopes for the final 2 are mostly dashed. Crunch and poor working conditions really do ruin art my goodness.
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If I were to write a Star Wars fic (which I won’t, as working full-time does not leave me with enough mental energy to be properly actively fannish), it’d be an epic AU where Obi-Wan also falls down the shaft at the climax of his fight with Maul, is presumed dead, and then pops up during the Clone Wars as a mysterious agent of chaos whose initial goal is just to rattle and provoke the Jedi into shedding at least a bit of their apathy disguised as serenity and their superiority complex (so, Obi-Wan choosing to help an entire planet of children caught in a horrific war was bad and aggressive, deserving of first repudiation and then probation, but when Knights and Masters order enslaved sentients into battle it’s duty and necessary to uphold the values of the Republic and thus Order?). He’s bitter, he’s angry, and he wants to destroy the Order. Well, the Order as it is. All talk, so little regard for actual decency, and no infrastructure in place to protect the children under their care.
There’d be a semi-humorous scene where Cody (who is... compromised, okay, he knows it, but this evil fallen force user is just different from the other evil fallen force users, okay) comes across Obi-Wan, bleeding from a fresh gash on his head (”What happened to you? - Oh, nothing, dear one; I just tripped.”) one eye clenched shut where the blood is dribbling down, yada yada, they do their usual song and dance about no, you question your allegiance and join my side, and then.
What’s that?
Cody bends down and picks up the thing that’s caught his attention. It’s round, and not quite flat, and ye--- yellow. He narrows his eyes at the infuriating pain in the ass in front of him.
“Tripped, huh? Deliberately, I assume?”
The man’s gaze flits down to the coloured lens balancing on Cody’s finger now, the exact same shade as his one open eye.
“When you arrived, the light of your presence overwhelmed me and caused me to falter. It can be quite challenging when one has delved as far into the dark as I have,” the fucker tries to lie to Cody’s face, voice as serene as the calmest of Jedi Generals fresh out of meditation, and maybe Cody needs to reconsider how trustworthy anything spoken in that tone really is.
Cody throws the lens at him, and the offending item manages to land on his chest, where blood has soaked into the shirt, and sticks to the fabric, staring at him accusingly.
“What kind of nerf-brained idiot fakes being a Sith? The entire Order is after you!”
The nerf-brain winces, then sighs and droops. He rubs a hand through his suddenly tired-looking face. The blood from his apparently actually self-inflicted head-wound that was meant to disguise the missing lens is smeared all over his cheek now, which looks ridiculous and is somewhat worrisome because Cody is used to bloodshed and knows that it’s usually not a good sign when people forget that they are bleeding. It does match the bone-deep exhaustion etched in the other man’s features, though, now that his mask of flirtatious nonchalance has dropped.
“In my defence, I honestly did not expect it to go this far.” He spreads his hands and pulls a somewhat forced-looking version of his usual boyish grin. “I assumed I would get in two, maybe three strikes before the Order went on alert and I got caught. When they didn’t, I decided to... provide further motivation.”
His right eye is grey-blue, as fathomlessly deep as the waters of Kamino, and Cody wonders what can drive a man to pretend to be evil incarnate to catch the attention of an organisation of essentially super-powered sentients in the middle of a war.
Another trickle of blood from the absolutely needless head wound snakes its way down the side of the man’s face, making it clear that, whatever his motivation might be it’s not a healthy sense of self-preservation.
Maybe Cody can get him to take out the other lens, too, so he can check his eyes for signs of a concussion.
And get a closer look at the colour.
...At least now he’s not compromised by a Sith anymore?
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