#Monument To The Girls’ Corps

[fuckyeahmeikokaji]

Meiko Kaji (梶芽衣子) in Monument To The Girls’ Corps (あゝひめゆりの塔), 1968, directed by Toshio Masuda (舛田利雄).

[uchiwife]

[ No Uchiha Massacre AU.]

Characters: Haruno Sakura, Uchiha Sasuke, Uzumaki Naruto, Uchiha Itachi, Sabaku no Gaara, etc. ( some characters will only be mentioned.)

Category: Epic friendship, romance, humor, fluff, unrequited love or is it?, angst, open ending.

WARNING(S):Sakura is not a reliable narrator. Her thoughts shouldn’t be taken at face value. They’re her own. She doesn't necessarily reflect what others think or reality.

Word count : 3,137k

a/n : English is not my mother tongue, so please excuse me for any mistakes I might commit in it. ꒱࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ

—

───── ❝ 五歳 ❞ ─────

───── ❝ 十二歳 ❞ ─────

───── ❝ 二十歳 ❞ ─────

In her childhood, Sakura remembered vividly spending hours in the Uchiha compound. She’d become best friends with the second heir of the clan. The youngest. She remembered running around his beautiful garden, admiring the koï and feeding them. She remembered admiring his mother's vegetable garden and the flower beds that could be found here and there.

Sasuke, the second Uchiha heir, along with their second blond best friend Naruto had grown up together so to speak. They’d done some stupid things together. First, they followed Naruto in his pranks, helped him to re-decorate the heads on the Hokage monument with paint. Naruto's mother, Kushina, had literally chased the three fleeing mini-thugs, yelling, with a ladle in her hand and threatening them with laundry duty of the entire Shinobi corps for a month. Thanks to Sakura's tactical intelligence and Sasuke's military intelligence, they’d managed to escape to what they called their secret tree house. They hid there to escape any punishment. Needless to say, their plan didn't work out so well.

The only comfort and pride that the three children felt in this memory was that it had taken 18 hours to find them. It was Sasuke's older brother and cousin who had found them.

They hadn't had a good day, or even a good week after that. They were punished, of course, but strangely enough they were praised for their teamwork. And they were only 5 or 6 years old at the time. Everyone was complimented on their skills. Even their escape was praised for what it was, even more so when they had managed to escape their "enemies".

Sakura always remembered fondly “des quatre cents coups” they had done in their childhood. That's why she had so many memories in the Uchiha district or in Naruto's house surrounded by his parents. Or her own.

But, today, she would have done anything to escape the complex.

She was currently in Sasuke's room. On his bed. The young man was polishing his Kusanagi, while Sakura was lying across the mattress, her head resting on one of Sasuke's thighs. He didn't seem to mind. He was used to it. He wasn't an overtly tactile person, but he was as open as one could be even more so with Team 7.

The pink-haired girl was desperate. Forgetting what she saw earlier was simply not possible. She had gone to find the first available person. Surprisingly, it had been Sasuke. Naruto was on a date with Hinata and Ino was on a mission with team 10. So her friends weren't what you would call "available." Of course Naruto would probably have dropped whatever he was doing to make sure his Sakura-chan was okay.

She’s like a sister to him. They’d all grown up together after all, but Sakura thought it was selfish to interrupt him while he was enjoying a moment with sweet Hinata. God knows it took that idiot a long time to ask the Hyuuga heiress out.

He had foolishly thought that he had no chance with the girl.

She snorted at the thought.

Idiot. If only he knew.

Hinata only had eyes for him. It was even before the academy. Now that they were together and happy, she wasn’t going to spoil their date.

Sasuke wasn't a bad choice anyway. She was actually very close to him. He knew things about her that even Ino didn't know ( And she prayed that the pig never found out because she might suddenly disappear.)

He hadn't questioned her when she’d snuck in through his bedroom window while he was polishing his Kunai. He had seen her puffy red eyes and she was wet from the rain : that had been enough for him to silently invite her into his den. He’d allowed her to borrow one of his old pants and a t-shirt that had become too small for him and she’d decided that a hot shower was in order. Sasuke let her be.

And here they are now :

Sakura on his bed, her head on his lap, a book on her stomach and him taking care of his Kusanagi. He knew she would talk when she felt ready. Sakura didn't like to be rushed. She liked to take the time to unravel her feelings so she could understand them better. And soon the Uchiha heard Sakura's voice. She spoke softly, but he could hear the notes of frustration, sadness and anger in her voice.

“ I can't believe he did that! I hate him so much!”

Sasuke closed his eyes and took a breath. Okay. Here we go again. He said nothing, listening, knowing anyway that Sakura was just going to vent whether he wanted it or not.

“No but can you believe that asshole!? Kissing that... that... Ugh. I can't even be upset with Hana-chan. She's really too cute. It's his fault anyway!”

At the familiar name, Sasuke looked up, arching his eyebrow.

“Hana? As in Hana Inuzuka? Kiba's older sister?”

Sakura huffed, annoyed.

“Yes! Now is not the time to drop your brain Sas’ke!”

Sasuke scowled and pinched the girl who yelped at the sudden gesture. She glared at him and then put her head back on his lap. God only knows what a comfortable couch he could be.

“You should be thankful that I haven't kicked you out yet.”

Ah that, Sakura scoffed:

“You love me way too much to kick me out and if you did I would probably rat you out to a) your mother because she loves me and b) your father because he loves me even more since I treated and cured your mom's disease a few years ago.”

The boy winced at the thought. He preferred not to have his mother on his back. So he gave in. For now. He too could blackmail Sakura and go complain to Mebuki-Obasan. The smartest of the Shinobi military corps knew better than to mess with one of the best Jônin cryptographers in Konoha's decryption unit. Sakura had not only taken after her mother's intelligence but also her fiery temper. He preferred not to interfere when these two women were in conflict

So he patiently listened to Sakura complain without having to ask which asshole she was talking about because he knew. Oh yes, he knew. Unfortunately.

“Go on.”

“Don't tell me what to do! Hm. What was I saying ? Oh yeah... Can you believe that asshole? Kissing Hana?! Of all people! When I go to tell Kiba that! Ha!”

“The fact that you think Kiba can beat him up is very cute. Delusional, but cute.”

“Shut up, you idiot! You're supposed to be on my side!”

“I'm not getting involved in your teenage melodrama. Besides what you're saying doesn't make sense. Why would he go and kiss Hana? He's never shown more than a friendly interest in her.”

“ I dunno, Sas’ke! Just ask your asshole of a brother! And anyway I thought it was Shisui who was interested in Hana!"

Sasuke snorted.

“Yeah when he was like 15. That sicko is hitting on Anko now according to the rumors. That guy has no sense of self preservation. It's a wonder how he survived all this time.”

Sakura stood up abruptly, grabbing him by the shoulders and luckily for her, he had already sheathed his Kusanagi.

“This is a serious matter! How do you want to coexist in a world where your brother is marrying a woman that isn’t me !? Think about your mother and yourself. You will be so devastated not to have me for a daughter-in-law and sister-in-law. I would hate to break your heart.”

Sasuke chuckled. CHUCKLED. That girl is crazy.

“Of all the people involved in this, I think you're the one who would really be heartbroken. Itachi has no reason to date Hana and I remind you that you already turned him down when he asked you to go to the spring festival with him a few years ago.”

Sakura frowned, tightening her grip on her best friend's sturdy form.

“It wasn't like that and you know it! Tsunade-Shishou had asked me to be Gaara's escort. Honestly I could hardly see myself refusing the Kazekage. Going with Gaara to the festival was diplomatic.”

“Straddling him in an intense make-out session was also a diplomatic tactic? Maybe you wanted to give him a taste of the sweets of Konoha?” He replied with a smirk on his lips.

Sakura blushed furiously and punched him, holding back her blow enough to do no real damage but hard enough to hurt.

“Shut the fuck up! We promised we'd never talk about it again!”

“You still naively think that Itachi doesn't know that you had a relationship with the Kage of Suna? It’s hilarious. It doesn't take a genius to do 1+1. Your missions to Suna and its borders were a little too frequent back then.”

“Like your brother is a virgin!”

“That's disgusting, Sakura. I don't need to know that.”

She huffed. Sure, Sakura and Gaara had had a three year relationship, but in her defense, she really didn't think Itachi cared about her back then. Hadn't he told her "not to waste time on him. He's so busy with his duties to Konoha and his clan." Only to see Izumi glued to his arm? Tch. Lying bastard. Her 15 year old self had been heartbroken. She had had a little crush on Itachi as a kid. He was so cool. But little Sakura chose instead to train to be a good Shinobi like her parents. So although she marveled at Itachi's prowess in the recesses of her mind and with Ino when she was creating flower crowns at the age of 5, she figured it would be wiser to pretend she didn't care about the older boy.

She had flirted and dated casually in her teens but her first time and first real relationship had been with Gaara. There had always been something she couldn't name between them, but she had ignored it in favor of her training. Even back in the Chuunin exam he had complimented her in a rather strange way. In fact his compliment sounded like a threat and with his icy green gaze she wondered if he didn't want to crush her with his sand.

Luckily for her Sasuke and Naruto had been there and had been suspicious and protective of her. And very rude if we want to be honest. At 12 years old these two idiots couldn't care less about being diplomatic at an international event that aimed to bring foreign countries together in its land. Thank goodness they had matured since then.

And look at her now! A beautiful young woman and an accomplished 20 year old shinobi who was getting upset because her not-so-secret crush was kissing the sister of one of her good friends. What a bastard! And to think that she thought things had changed. Needless to say, she was probably kidding herself.

Well, fuck him! If Uchiha Itachi couldn't see her value then it was his loss! I mean sure, they weren't a couple. So he hadn't cheated on her or anything, but she liked to think they were friends at least. Okay, a friend who desperately wanted to see him naked, but a friend and fellow ninja nonetheless.

Why was she so upset anyway? She dropped her forehead against Sasuke's shoulder, loosely wrapping her arms around his neck. She smelled his perfume. She liked the smell of her best friend, probably because it was similar to his brother's, it was comforting. The difference was that she didn't feel like tearing off Sasuke's clothes just by smelling his scent. The boy in question watched her, eyebrow raised. He noticed the change in her behavior. He could have pushed her away, but he was far too familiar with her proximity to be entirely offended by it. So he sighed and awkwardly patted her back, which made the girl chuckle.

“You really suck at comforting sad girls, Sasu-chan.”

He glared at her at the nickname, though she couldn't see it.

“My name’s Sa-su-ke.”

“Don't care. Let me cuddle you, Sasu-chan. I need affection from a handsome guy.”

He snorted, but made no move to dislodge her, if anything, he even made himself comfortable in his bed by lying down, his head resting on his pillow. Over the years, Sakura had had phases like this. And she always turned to Naruto or him. Naruto it wasn't really a problem, the jerk himself was a hugger. for him, it took longer to allow and be comfortable with this routine. But he had made an exception. Because it was Sakura and she and Team 7 were his second family.

His fingers ran absentmindedly through her pastel pink locks. Her hair was soft. One of the characteristics he found odd about Sakura. Her hair was always soft. Yet she wasn't so vain, but when he realized that her hair was silky at any time of the day he had finally asked her about it. She had simply answered that being a Shinobi didn’t prevent her from being a woman. And that being both was rather a lethal weapon. Especially in certain types of missions.

He preferred not to think about these missions. He knew that seduction missions existed, he'd probably done one or two in his career, but he'd never been a big fan of the process. He felt Sakura relax against him, her chakra much less agitated than it had been when she had come through his window two hours earlier.

“You should stop doing that Sakura.”

“Doing what?” She asked confused.

“Hurting yourself.”

“That's not what I'm doing. Your brother is simply sending mixed signals."

He frowned slightly, lips pursed.

“He's been stressed lately.”

“He seemed fine to me when his lips were on Hana's.” She couldn't help but retort bitterly and in return Sasuke sighed wearily.

“I overheard a conversation between my father, the Yondaime and the Godaime a few weeks ago. There’s tension between Iwa and Konoha. Lord Fourth said that if it continues like this they could reach a point where an open war could break out. The council and the Hokage would like to avoid the scenario of the third war to happen again. They started to talk about a political alliance. An archaic one if you ask me.”

Sakura was surprised, but not as surprised as she would have thought. She was aware of the political climate surrounding Konoha and the other countries, she was the fifth Hokage's apprentice after all, but to hear Sasuke confirm it was... wait. He’d said "political alliance?" She began to think, connecting the dots in her head to come to the most plausible conclusion. Her eyes widened.

“You mean...”

Sasuke nodded with a tense look, Confirming her fears.

“I'm afraid so. There’re rumors that Ônoki-sama's granddaughter would be in the lead. Now imagine what a political marriage would bring between the heir of a powerful clan and the direct granddaughter of the Tsuchikage.”

Sakura felt her stomach knot up. And judging by Sasuke's tone, he wasn't very happy about the news. She swallowed hard and looked down.

“Your father must not have liked it...”

“He was furious. For him it would mean sacrificing his heir. He would prefer that the incident that happened between Kumo and Konoha not happen again. They don't need another dôjutsu thief.”

“That doesn't make sense. Your brother is the heir of the Uchiha clan. A valuable asset to the village and asking him to marry a woman who...” She clenched her fists, “is throwing him into the lion's den.”

“It was common back then. They did it to create alliances. Just like Shodaime and Mito Uzumaki did, but their case is slightly different.”

“And... what does your brother think?”

Sasuke turned his onyx gaze on the young woman, gauging her with his eyes, gauging her possible reactions.

“He's not thrilled, but... he's Itachi. He will do as the Hokage commands. He's dedicated and loyal like that. He has the good of the village at heart."

Sakura felt tears tingle her eyes. A sense of loss invading her whole being.

“This is unfair...”

“The life of a shinobi rarely is. Nii-san will always do everything to protect and serve the village. That must be his will of fire. I don't believe he is devoted to anything other than that.”

With a small smile on her lip, Sakura raised her head and her gaze met his. She shook her head gently, cupping one of his cheeks.

“You’re wrong. There’s one thing your brother cherishes more than the village and more than anything else in this world.”

“What is it?” He asked, curious as to what could possibly be more important to Itachi than his duty to the village.

Sakura offered him one of her sweetest smiles. Her sea foam eyes held a deep affection. The kind she reserved only for the men of Team 7.

“You, Sasuke. Itachi will burn the world to the ground if it means you're safe.”

He stood speechless for a moment, his eyes wide. Him? Was he really...?

Unbeknownst to them, Itachi heard their discussion lurking in the shadows behind the door, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his chakra signature suppressed, undetectable to anyone looking.

He was torn between many conflicting emotions. Some of them were incomprehensible to him. One of them was probably jealousy and he felt guilty about it.

He felt guilty for envying his little brother's closeness to this woman. But there was not much he could do about it. The bond between Naruto, Sasuke, and Sakura was very strong. It’d always been. Not the kind that could be broken.

He closed his eyes, calming his heartbeat. Sakura was right. He did love Sasuke more than he loved Konoha, but then again she was missing something. She didn't know that there was another person who came very close to that feeling. The irony was that the second person was in the arms of the first.

They weren't doing anything wrong, he didn't think his brother and Sakura were engaged in that way, but Sasuke wasn't tactile with just anyone, it was rare. He would have liked to be one of ‘her boys’ too. In fact, there were many things he would have liked to be for Sakura over the years.

As he pulled away from the wall and away from the muffled laughter he could hear through the wall, Itachi wondered how happy he could be with Sakura if she agreed to be his wife.

More importantly, could he still be? Was it still time or was it too late?

A question he would consider later. For now, Shisui was waiting for him on their training ground and Uchiha Itachi was not known for being late.

───── ❝ 終わり。❞ ─────

Hey!🦋 I hope you enjoyed it. Feel free to comment, reblog and/or like. It's always nice to have even indirect interactions with you guys.✨ Even more to know that someone is reading my stories.

Thanks to those who have done so in my previous posts. I want you to know that I really appreciate it.🥹🥹💗

[itsclydebitches]

I've been cleaning out my Google Drive lately (monumental task) and came across the beginnings of an old Attack on Titan fic I never finished — and never will. So I thought I'd post it as a oneshot 👍

This was him then. The titan child.  

Monster. Threat to humanity. Deceiver. Shape-shifter. Fiend. Corporal Levi had heard a hundred names for this creature before they’d even reached the dungeon’s outer walls. It was only when they were doors away that he finally got a name. 

“He’s Eren Yeager,” Erwin said. He flipped continuously through a folder so stacked the binding was beginning to creak. “Belongs to the 104th training squad. Graduated fifth in his class with no particular skills listed, though there is a note that he is, and I quote, ‘strong headed as a bull with his balls on the line.’ Nice.” 

Levi snorted. 

“Hmm,” Erwin continued flipping. “Hails from Shiganshina. His Mother died right after the wall was breached. An eyewitness report from a Garrison soldier says that her legs were crushed when her house collapsed, then she was eaten.” He shook his head. “Eren saw everything while they were making their escape.” 

“Incompetent,” Levi muttered. 

“We lost sight of him for a while, until he entered the training corps. Four years later he’s defending Trost and, hours after that, emerging from the neck of a seventeen-meter titan.” Erwin shut the folder with a snap. His face was grim in the hall’s torchlight. “Thoughts?” 

“You’re the strategist. I’m just here to gut the fucker if he turns.” 

“Humor me.” 

Levi shrugged. “Only two options, really. Either he’s a meek little boy, hollow from his mommy’s death and still shitting himself after his first battle…”

“Or?”

The two men turned the corner, reaching the final set of stairs. Below there was a creature shackled and locked in a cage. Two MPs stood guard. One of them, a pudgy girl with a permanent sneer to her lips kept sneaking fearful glances behind her. 

“Or he’s the most terrifying, manipulative thing humanity has ever seen.” 

Levi made sure his voice rose all the way back to that MP. As the two men descended into the darkness he reveled in her nervous looks, the sweat beading along her brow. Let the pigs squeal. Levi knew what to expect. He had nothing to fear. 

What else could this world possibly throw at him? 

Nothing new Levi decided, not two minutes later as he leaned against the wall. This titan child was exactly that—a child—huddled beneath his blanket like he thought it could keep him safe from the world. Levi saw the way he kept his knees bent, just a pride’s breadth away from pulling them up against his chest and hiding there. This monster continually strained against the chains shackled to his arms (stupid then too) and his eyes flit every which way, unwilling or unable to meet their gaze. Levi would bet new gear that it was the latter. 

“Tell me, Eren... what do you want?” 

To get free. Maybe. Levi watched the kid’s head bow low, weighted under who knew what kind of crap. What did a half human-half monster desire anyway? Better question: would Erwin even consider giving it to him if he knew? No. Levi turned his attention to the other monster in the room, the one who could lie with a smile  and didn’t seem to have any tells. Levi admired the sharp edge of Erwin’s comfort and missed when Eren’s head shot back up. 

“I want to join the recon corps,” he said. “And kill as many titans as I can.” 

… From meek to bloodthirsty in the span of a breath. Interesting. 

Levi took new stock of the situation and nearly cursed himself out loud, because those details suddenly didn’t seem so childish or stupid anymore. This thing was restless beneath its sheets. Not hiding, just biding its time. The strain in the muscles of its arms wasn’t foolish exertion but rather the need to keep moving, stay sharp, do something, even when stuck in captivity. It’s eyes flit to specific spots—exit, MPs, the knife in Erwin’s boot—and Levi felt an unwelcome kinship rising up in the center of his chest. He’d looked like this before, in the bowels of the underground. He could look like this again if need be. 

There was similarity between them. Levi could use that. 

He heard his own voice as if from far away, announcing that he’d take responsibility for this beast, he’d accept its application and, if need be, put it down like the monster it was. Yet when Levi spoke something astounding happened: the monster went back to being a boy. He saw relief and then fear flood back into those eyes and Levi had to grip the bars with all his might. It looked like intimidation, but it felt like dread. 

What was this boy? 

When they were done Levi and Erwin passed back through the MPs, the woman with sweat on her brow keeping secrets bobbing in her throat. They wouldn’t stay there long. By sundown she’ll have told every false friend and inept colleague about the monster who claimed to want to kill his own kind… and how Humanity’s Strongest believed him. Levi had a sudden, awful urge to slit her throat before those secrets could escape. 

But that was just impractical. Messy too. 

“What are you thinking?” Erwin asked him quietly.  Of course. Of course he wouldn’t be swayed just by what he’d said to the kid. 

Kid?

Levi chose not to answer. Not in any way Erwin would understand anyway. “Anything else in his file?” 

There was. Erwin flipped to the very back where amidst bullshit psychological evaluations there was one note scrawled in a familiar hand. Keith’s chicken scratch was an insult to sight, but at least he had something interesting to say: 

Don’t underestimate this one. Bound to be fatal. 

“Huh,” Levi said and shoved the folder back at Erwin. 

As they left the dungeons Levi put the titan-child out of his mind… or at least he attempted to. It was still there, shifting between each thought, taunting him with possibilities he hadn’t seen since the man beside him beat his ass and then offered him a job. 

This one wasn’t simple either. 

Good. Humanity couldn’t survive on simple.

[cha-faile]

Edit: I will not re-post this to the correct blog, this just lives here as a monument to my glee!

B5 s02e19 Divided Loyalties Table of Contents • previous episode

Delenn: "I find the notion of the press a…fascinating, but sometimes troubling concept."

I find the notion that the Minbari don't have press to be a fascinating but potentially troubling concept!

The machine that dispenses Universe Today but requires that you confirm your identity to get a paper is wild. Does it give different papers to different people?

Delenn: "It is good to know what your people are thinking and saying about my people. And, uh, I often learn things about my own world before I'm told what I need to know and no more."

She is so cute!! And so crafty!! I liked Delenn from The Gathering, but I like her more and more whenever she appears.

A flood on a space station seems like it could get really really bad, really really fast.

I once read a hilarious fanfic where some Star Wars characters traveled to B5 and bought a shitload of data crystals, which turned out to be kyber, and this reminded me of that.

When I was looking up what the episode was called, I saw that Lyta-from-the-Gathering would be coming back and I'm so excited for this! I hope she and Talia get along.

asddkhfsdkfh what was that little shimmy?? Cool alien, hilarious shoulder wiggles.

Sheridan: "oh, I miss trees…." Garibaldi, from Mars: "……" *yeah, so anyway changing the subject now*

Talia: It's hard to believe it's taken us so long to get to this point. Two years. Susan: Well, you didn't exactly make it easy. Talia: Me? how 'bout you? Susan: I'll have you know I've been nothing but compassionate and understanding. I mean, all you had to do was admit that you were wrong and I was right and everything would be fine!

LMAO.

Sleepover? Sleepover!!! GAY GIRLS GO

Susan: "I'd like the company."

Yeah I'd like her company, too. *eyebrow waggle*

Wow, Lyta had a rough arrival! Maybe she can sleep over with Susan and Talia, too. *eyebrow waggle*

Go Lyta Go. I support unhinged women wielding surgical tools.

Poor Lyta has spent years being distrusted and interrogated by psicorps for what she saw in Kosh's mind. I'd be pretty twitchy after that, too! Their tender loving care seems like it would be the exact oppposite.

She is even hotter than she was in the Gathering.

OK, love the exposition about the fucked up things psi corps can do with people's brains. Fucking terrifying. Implant a personality below their personality, that emerges and destroys the original when the right time comes around. Moles that don't know they're moles. Very uncool of PsiCorps.

Lyta is SO paranoid, but I suspect she isn't being paranoid enough. She's shockingly tolerant of being placed in secure holding. I don't think I'd agree to be literally imprisoned that readily. She hasn't done anything but come out of anesthesia swinging surgical tools after being imprisoned by PsiCorps for two years.

Delenn!!!

Sheridan: Why is it every time you finally get things calmed down and everything's going great life decides to kick you in the butt? Delenn: …but what?

That really got me and I lol'ed. Good use of idioms and miscommunication! Love it. She wasn't taught slang because it was considered innapropriate for a member of the religious caste.

Delenn: I butt, you butt, he or she butts… Sheridan: NO. No, it's… Delenn: Butt-butt. Sheridan: you sound like a motorboat. Delenn: Motor butt?

I continue to cackle. OK, I finally ship them. They reeled me in!

Hold her hand back you fucking monkey!!

The debates and counter-intelligence and fact checking is A+. Damn you JMS for making me like Garibaldi via the excellent Garibaldi-Sheridan interactions. :|

Sleepover date!! I am so excited. Susan knows how to woo a woman: with a real, hot-water shower. It would work on me.

More good exposition. Talia knew Lyta, she was six months behind Talia at the academy. She was nice, sweet. They were close at one time. *eyebrow waggle*

It speaks very well of Lyta that she hated her PsiCop internship and went commercial instead.

"So I've come to the decision that there's only one person on this station that I can trust implicitly…" *gets in Susan's personal space and stares at her lips* "…you." *almost touches Susan with bare fingers* me: *goes absolutely fucking feral*

Why tf is Lyta a prisoner?! I ask a-fucking-gain. This is ridiculous, and exposes her and her mission to the goddamn EarthCorps brown shirts!

Yeah, well obviously someone wanted to shoot at her when she was being transferred! This is why she should be having a gay-ass sleepover with Talia and Susan right now!

At least they don't think Lyta instigated the attack on herself. They're ass-backwards about this. She shows up with news of a secret, they imprison her where any security staff could find out, including the goddamn leak she was talking about, and then Sheridan is mad and shocked someone knew she was there with critical info. C'mon, dude.

Also Susan, <3, Sheridan is right about one thing, this isn't a scan to object to, it's just her projecting a code word to see if anyone reacts.

Talia: "I woke up last night and you were gone." Me: [beast shaking toy in mouth.jpeg]

O.o WHAT IS SUSAN LYING ABOUT. Is she telepathic???? It's my long-running headcanon about her! Please be telepathic, please be. If we get to find out that her mom used her telepathy to hide Susan's powers that would be EVERYTHING to me.

If only Na'Toth and Laurel were in this episode also being badasses it would be the greatest of all time.

c'mon telepathic Susan! C'mon!! omfg I'm almost vibrating.

"…and then, every once in awhile, I was the one who touched her mind."

SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP FUCK YES I AM WELL FED THIS EPISODE

"…I'm a latent telepath."

FUCKING WINNING

Now Sheridan just needs to not be an idiot about this. Obviously she hid it, who wants to be fucking gangpressed into PsiCorps?!

Good job, Sheridan. Minimal shittiness achieved. And I know I'm completely fucking feral about Susan/Talia but it's so perfect that Susan is so close to Sheridan that he's the first person she tells about her hidden talent.

Smart of Garibaldi to hand over his piece before being not-scanned. What a fucker tho, faking them out. hahah.

also please don't be the mole, Ivanova. I don't want anything bad to have happened to her, ever, but since plenty has, I don't want any more!!

After all these people have been cleared, I think Ivanova will probably just agree to being cleared. She will want to know. Maybe she would let Lyta tell Talia the password and let Talia password her?

I do like Sheridan's theory earlier talking to Garibaldi that the second in command who shot Garibaldi in the back was the mole.

Ahhhh Ivanova did change her mind. And she's clean!

Lyta: I'm sorry Susan: Go to hell.

That's my girl.

Oh man!! I didn't even think to suspect Talia! Fuuuuuuuck, and she's all telekinetic'ed up, too!! Oh, damn it. I don't like this at all.

or do I? There's plenty of whump to be had. hm.

You know what I really don't like, this boys-only confab. Ivanova is the second in command of the entirety of B5 and she's not present for the strategy meeting. Uncool.

Ahhhh it's all coming together for Garibaldi. Wow, they really have been seeding this plotline for the whole show!! Cool Hat Man Mind Empty No Thoughts Only Hat wasn't just fun filler!

The Talia that Susan knew definitely has to be in there! They haven't kissed yet! And I need that!!

Oh, this is chilling!! The angst! The whump!! Susan!!!

I think it would be really funny if the sub-personality didn't understand homosexuality and therefore has no idea real!Talia was in love with Susan and vice versa.

OK now I weirdly ship Lyta/Kosh.

"I never told them, I never told anyone. I hid it all away in the smallest, tiniest corner of my mind. They could have killed me and they still wouldn't have found it. Only at night, alone, would I open that small door in my mind where I kept the memory of you and listened to your voice. Listened to you sing me to sleep. I hope I can come back again, but I don't know. Until then, Kosh, I want to see you again. Just one more time before I go."

Lyta's a bonafide monsterfucker. What a great note to end this on!

My thoughts right now are: "Hnnnnnngggggshshshcsagfjkaldsf yes." Good episode! My favorite of the season so far! I can't wait to see how all this plays out!! I may make some gifs and do a gif-post of this ep later. So many good shots!

this next one is posted to the correct blog, hah.

[baconcolacan]

Hello again, thanks for answering! It almost gave me something when I asked the question, but now I think it's not as scary as before, well I have more questions! I'm sorry if there are many, and I apologize if my English is not very good.

1- Ok, we know that R!Tord would keep memories in case R!Tom died, but in the future no one would wonder who was that person for the Red Leader? I mean, the recordings, the painting, the monument and having a country blown to pieces out of nowhere? I guess people would think it was the Red Leader's couple, right?

2- What would be the reaction of the generals if R!Tord had told them the reason why he wants R!Tom?

3- Why I think that the one who is going to end up killing General Weth is going to be R!Tom?

4- The red soldiers are not going to wonder why R!Tom is still alive?

5- I know that this question will probably be answered in future chapters, but will R!Tom be able to freely roam the base? And please tell me that R!Tord will give R!Tom some clothes so he doesn't freeze to death.

6- What would be the reaction of Hillarson and the old unit of R!Tom to see that the Red Leader is "In Love" with R!Tom (I say "in love" because that is not love)

7- Where are Susan and Tomme Bear?

8- In some future we will see Mark and Eduardo?

Oh! and My girlfriend and my friend are proud that I sent you the questions,because they know that I am a very nervous girl and they probably knew that I would never send the questions, by the way my friend has one:

Now ask him how I can force my friend to see regimen and if he answers the comment, I read regimen.

Thank you for taking your time to answer my previous questions, Take care of yourself!

Ayyeee! Hi bud! Its nice to see that you dont think its scary to ask me things anymore hahaha answers below!

Well, people will wonder why Tom was so important, but I think they wouldn't really press for details in fear of Red Leader lashing out. Still, some will suspect that he was a lost love or some such, not that they'd try to confirm it anyway.

Well, shock, most of all, but they won't linger on it too much. RL's whims are very erratic, so at this point they would have already been used to it. So the shock will only last for a moment then they'll just accept it.

Hm, dunno.

They will. But you know. See above.

Hmmm. You'll have to wait for that :]

Hilarson would have a fit, because he knows how bad it would be to have RL's undivided, obsessive, attention. Same goes with Tom's old unit, which I hope you mean the 9th Norway Corps, as they would also do whatever they can to keep Tom away from the RA.

Susan is at home, Tommee bear might be as well.

Uhhhhh, well, I dont believe so, as Regimen will focus mainly on Tom and the other guys.

HAHAHAHA AND NO PROBS CHUM! I'm glad you feel comfortable enough to ask me questions :D

And as for what your friend said, I dont think I can force anyone to read the fic ahahaha, Im not that kind of dude. People can choose whether or not they want to read Regimen, as the story does deal with darker topics, so I wouldn't want to make somebody uncomfortable if they dont like what the tags say :PP

Thanks for stopping by again!!

[whitepolaris]

A Bughouse in Bug Town

Some people think the derogatory name Bughouse came from Northern State Hospital in Sedro-Woolley. The town was, after all, originally named Bug by its first settler, Mortimer Cook, thanks to the copious amounts of mosquitos in the area. But it just isn't so: The term was used in the 1800s, before Northern State Hospital was built.

In 1909, Washington had two overcrowded asylums: Western State Hospital in Steilacoom and Eastern State Hospital in Medical Lake, near Spokane. Rather than enlarging these asylums, the state decided to build a third. Several towns submitted proposals, seeing an asylum as a new source of jobs. Sedro-Woolley won the bid, and the first patients arrived at the new hospital in December 1912. At its height, the facility housed down two thousand patients and employed one thousand people.

It was amazing what kind of "illness" could land someone in Northern State. Men committed their postmenopausal wives when the women became "too excitable." At least one man was committed because he had what was called "religious mania." There were cases of orphaned children being sent to the facility for what today would likely be diagnosed as attention deficit disorder. Many more were committed due to "imbecility" or other learning disabilities. Perhaps a third of the inmates had diseases like senile dementia, manic depression, schizophrenia, and other mental illnesses.

Northern State Hospital treated its patients with occupational therapy, hoping that physical labor, like farming and felling timber, would aid in patients' recovery, many of them learned a trade for the day when they would be released. But the doctors also used other techniques popular in the twentieth century to help cure mental illness, including electroshock therapy and lobotomy. Many patients were also sterilized, following the belief of the times that it was for their own good as well as society's.

The hospital closed in 1973, and Washington converted part of the complex into a Job Corps facility and drug treatment center. Although some of the buildings are still in use, some have been torn down, and others are empty and deteriorating. In 2006, local citizens erected a monument to the forgotten dead in the hospital's graveyard. While some of the deceased may be at peace, there have been reports of unquiet dead who walk the crumbling halls of the old buildings. Several people have said they saw a little girl darting around, sometimes playing with a red ball. A man who never seems to find her followers. Other people claim to have seen a nurse in a certain building, pushing a man in a wheelchair.

She's Got (Ghostly) Legs

In 2006, a paranormal investigation group received permission to visit the old hospital, and one person, Vanessa Rent, took pictures in the basement using infrared film. She didn't see much when she was taking the photographs, but the following described what happened when she developed her film:

It was at the end of the night and I was getting lazy about documenting how I took each photo. Plus running around that big place with all that equipment was cumbersome, anyway. I didn't think anyone was wearing shorts that night, so I doublechecked at the [after ghost hunt] meeting. No one remembers anyone in shorts. It is clearly bare legs in what may either be a patient's gown or nurse's uniform.

Also, someone in the group helped validate it a little more, since I had my shutter open more than 10 seconds. It couldn't be a real person or else it would be lots of more blurry. And I'm 95% sure I took that pic without anyone there 'cuz it looked creepy as long, lonely hallway, I probably wouldn't have taken it if someone was standing there already!

Remember, some of the buildings at Northern State are condemned, and for good reason. Most of them are filled with debris and asbestos, and it can be dangerous to walk through them without an employee as a guide.

[grantgoddard]

The day the (reggae) music died : 1981 : Bob Marley, Linton Kwesi Johnson, Matumbi

 “Bob Marley has died!” I exclaimed. Having switched on the car radio before starting the engine, one of Marley’s songs was playing on John Peel’s ‘BBC Radio One’ ten-to-midnight show. I knew immediately what that meant. Peel was a longtime reggae fan, though I had not heard him play a Marley track for years. There was no need to await Peel’s voice announcing the sad news. I had read that Marley was ill but had not understood the terminal gravity of his health.

Peterlee town centre was dark and desolate at that late hour. I had walked to my little Datsun car across a dark, empty car park adjacent to the office block of Peterlee Development Corporation, accompanied by my girlfriend who was employed there on a one-year government job creation scheme. We had attended a poetry reading organised by Peterlee Community Arts in the building, an event she had learnt of from her marketing work. It was my first poetry reading. Only around a dozen of us were present, everyone else at least twice our age. But what we heard was no ordinary poetry.

Linton Kwesi Johnson had coined his work ‘dub poetry’ in 1976 and already published three anthologies and four vinyl albums, voicing his experiences as a Jamaican whose parents had migrated to Britain in 1962. Peterlee new town seemed an unlikely venue for a ‘dub poet’, a deprived coal mining region with no discernible black population, but working class Tyneside poet Keith Armstrong had organised this event as part of his community work there to foster residents’ creative writing. Johnson read some of his excellent poems and answered the group’s polite questions. It was an intimate, quiet evening of reflection.

Due to my enthusiasm for reggae, I was familiar with Johnson’s record albums as one strand of the outpouring of diverse innovation that Britain’s homegrown reggae artists had been pioneering since the early 1970’s. Alongside ‘dub poetry’ (poems set to reggae), there was ‘lovers rock’ (soulful reggae with love themes sung mostly by teenage girls), UK ‘roots reggae’ (documenting the Black British experience) and a distinctly British version of ‘dub’ (radical mixes using studio effects). One name that was playing a significant writing/producing role spanning all these sub-genres was Dennis Bovell, alias ‘Blackbeard’, of the British group ‘Matumbi’. His monumental contributions to British reggae are too often understated.

Until then, there had been plenty of reggae produced in British studios and released by UK record labels such as ‘Melodisc’, ‘Pama’ and ‘Trojan’, but most efforts had been either a rather clunky imitation of Jamaican reggae (for example, Millie’s 1964 UK hit ‘My Boy Lollipop’ [Fontana TE 17425]) or performed by ‘dinner & dance’-style UK groups such as ‘The Marvels’. I admit to having neglected Matumbi upon hearing their initial 1973 releases, cover versions of ‘Kool & The Gang’s ‘Funky Stuff’ [Horse HOSS 39] and ‘Hot Chocolate’s ‘Brother Louie' [GG 4540]. It was not until their 1976 song ‘After Tonight’ [Safari SF 1112] and the self-released 12-inch single ‘Music In The Air’/’Guide Us’ [Matumbi Music Corp MA 0004] that my interest was piqued as a result of the group’s creative ability to seamlessly bridge the ‘lovers rock’, ‘roots reggae’ and ‘dub’ styles. Both sides of the latter disc remain one of my favourite UK reggae recordings (sadly, these particular mixes have not been reissued).

In 1978, Matumbi performed at Dunelm House and, after attending the gig, it was my responsibility as deputy president of Durham Students’ Union to sit in my office with the band, counting out the cash to pay their contracted fee. They were on tour to promote their first album ‘Seven Seals’ self-produced for multinational ‘EMI Records’ [Harvest SHSP 4090]. It included new mixes of the aforementioned 12-inch single plus their theme for BBC television drama ‘Empire Road’, the first UK series to be written, acted and directed predominantly by black artists. Sensing my interest in reggae, the group invited me to join them for an after-gig chat, so I drove to their motel several miles down South Road and we sat in its bar for a thoroughly enjoyable few hours discussing music.

As part of my manic obsession with the nascent ‘dub’ reggae genre, I had bought albums between 1976 and 1978 credited to ‘4th Street Orchestra’ entitled ‘Ah Who Seh? Go Deh!’ [Rama RM 001], ‘Leggo! Ah Fi We Dis’ [Rama RM 002], ‘Yuh Learn!’ [Rama RMLP 006] and ‘Scientific Higher Ranking Dubb’ [sic, Rama RM 004]. They were sold in blank white sleeves with handwritten marker-pen titles and red, gold and green record labels to make them look similar to Jamaican-pressed dub albums of that era. However, it was self-evident that most tracks were dub mixes of existing UK recordings by Matumbi backing various performers, engineered and produced by Bovell for licensing to small UK labels. I also had bought and worn two of their little lapel badges, one inscribed ‘AH WHO SEH?’, the other ‘GO DEH!’, from a London record stall. During our conversation in the bar, Bovell expressed surprise that I owned these limited-pressing albums, and even more surprise that I recognised Matumbi as behind them. They remain prime examples of UK dub.

It was Bovell who had produced Linton Kwesi Johnson’s albums, and it was Matumbi who had provided the music. Alongside a young generation of British roots reggae bands such as ‘Aswad’ and ‘Steel Pulse’, Johnson’s poetry similarly tackled contemporary social and political issues with direct, straightforward commentaries. It was a new style of British reggae, an echo of recordings by American collective ‘The Last Poets’ whose conscious poems/raps had been set to music (sometimes by ‘Kool & The Gang’) since 1970, and whose couplets had occasionally been integrated into recordings by Jamaican DJ ‘Big Youth’ in the 1970’s. Of course, MC’s (‘Masters of Ceremonies’) had been talking over (‘toasting’) records at ‘dances’ in Jamaica since the 1960’s, proof that the evolution of ‘rap’ owed as much to the island’s sound system culture as it did to 1970’s New York house parties.

In Peterlee, Johnson read his poems to the audience without music, his usual performance style. It was fascinating to hear his words without any accompaniment. For me, the dub version of Johnson’s shocking 1979 poem ‘Sonny’s Lettah’ (retitled ‘Iron Bar Dub’ on ‘LKJ In Dub’ [Island ILPS 9650]) is brilliantly effective precisely when the music is mixed out to leave his line “Me couldn’t stand up there and do nothin’” hanging in silence. Sadly, memories of Johnson’s performance that night were suddenly eclipsed by the news of Marley’s death. I drove the eight miles to our Sherburn Village home in stunned silence. I was sad and shocked. It was only then that his sudden loss made me realise how much Marley had meant to me.

Despite having listened to reggae since the late 1960’s, I admittedly arrived late to Bob Marley’s music. Though I had heard many of his singles previously, it was not until his 1974 album ‘Natty Dread’ [Island ILPS 9281] that I understood his genius. At that time, I was feeling under a lot of personal pressure which I tried to relieve by listening to this record every day for the next two years. At home, my father had run off, leaving our family in grave financial difficulties. At school, I was struggling with its inflexibility, not permitted to take two mathematics A-levels, not allowed to mix arts and science A-levels, not encouraged to apply to Cambridge University. Back in my first year at that school, I had been awarded three school prizes. However, once my parents separated and then divorced, I was never given a further prize and the headmaster’s comments in my termly school reports became strangely negative, regardless of my results.

Feeling increasingly like an unwanted ‘outsider’ at grammar school, Marley’s lyrics connected with me and helped keep my head above encroaching waters rising in both my home and school lives. I knew I was struggling and needed encouragement from some source, any source, to continue. For me, that came from Marley’s music. While my classmates were mostly listening to ‘progressive rock’ albums with zany song titles (such as Genesis’ ‘I Know What I Like In Your Wardrobe’), I was absorbed by reggae and soul music that spoke about the daily struggle to merely survive the tribulations of life. After ‘Natty Dread’, I rushed out to buy every new Marley release.

During the months following Marley’s death, I was absorbed by sadness. It felt like the ‘final straw’. The previous year, I had landed a ‘dream job’, my first permanent employment, overhauling the music playlist for Metro Radio. Then, after successfully turning around that station’s fortunes, I had unexpectedly been made redundant. I was now unemployed and my every job application had been rejected. That experience had followed four years at Durham University which had turned out to be a wholly inappropriate choice as it was colonised by 90%+ of students having arrived from private schools funded by posh families. I felt like ‘a fish out of water’. I loved studying, I loved learning, I desired a fulfilling academic life at university … but it had proven nigh on impossible at Durham.

“This is what I need This is where I want to be But I know that this will never be mine”

Months later, my girlfriend awoke one morning and told me matter-of-factly that she was going to move out and live alone. She offered no explanation. We had neither disagreed nor argued. We had been sharing a room for three years, initially as students in a horribly austere miners’ cottage in Meadowfield whose rooms had no electrical sockets, requiring cables to be run from each room’s centre ceiling light-fitment. Now we were in a better rented cottage in Sherburn, though it had no phone, no gas and no television. Her bombshell announcement could not have come at a more vulnerable time for me. I had already felt rejected by most of my university peers and then by my first employer. At school previously, I had passed the Cambridge University entrance exam but had been rejected by every college. At Durham, I had stood for election as editor of the student newspaper, but its posh incumbent had recommended a rival with less journalistic experience. A decade earlier, my father had deserted me and his family, and now the person I loved the most had done the same.

I just could not seem to navigate a successful path amidst the world of middle- and upper-class contemporaries into which I had been unwittingly thrown, first at grammar school, then at Durham, and now in my personal life too. Most of those years, I felt that circumstances had forced me to focus on nothing more than survival, whilst my privileged contemporaries seemed able to pursue and fulfil their ambitions with considerable ease. I had to remind myself that I had been born in a council house and had attended state schools, initially on a council estate. My girlfriend had not. I had imagined such differences mattered not in modern Britain. I had believed that any ‘socio-economic’ gap between us could be bridged by a mutual feeling called ‘love’. I now began to wonder if I had been mistaken. I felt very much marooned and alone. My twenty-three-year-old life was in tatters.

Fast forward to 1984. I had still not secured a further job in radio. I was invited to Liverpool for a weekend stay in my former girlfriend’s flat. We visited the cathedral and attended a performance at the Everyman Theatre. It felt awkward. I never saw her again. It had taken me months to get over the impact of Bob Marley’s death. It took me considerably longer to get over my girlfriend ending our relationship. 

“That clumsy goodbye kiss could fool me But looking back over my shoulder You’re happy without me”

[emmareadingjournal]

Nov 14 - Occupy Wallstreet

PRE-LECTURE / HOT-TAKE

This week's readings dive into the intricacies of the Occupy Wall Street (OWS) movement and how it was a powerful manifestation of anti-economic inequality that reverberated globally.

The first thing that caught my eye was the resurgence of the concept of a horizontal structure(lessness) that was discussed with the Zapatistas and the Paris Commune. The leaderless nature of the general assemblies reminds me of the Beautiful Trouble concept: "Beware the structurelessness of tyranny." As the text mentions, it is essential to be wary of horizontal structures, as sometimes they can be the most tyrannical, and the cure is accountability.

I enjoyed the piece on the logic of the swarm. In particular, I enjoyed reading the comparison to ants and the four rules to follow. I thought it was an interesting build on the Rand Corp text from the Zapatista week.

Kroll's account of OWS's genesis at Zuccotti Park underscores the international spirit that fueled its inception. The involvement of activists familiar with Spain's 15-M protest highlights the cross-pollination of ideas. The movement began as a response to the global economic crisis, highlighting that it is not simply an American issue but an interconnected web of modern challenges.

Milkman, Luce, and Lewis provide a critical perspective, noting OWS's perceived failure in creating immediate change. However, the enduring impact on political discourse and the lasting influence on participants challenge the notion of failure. The movement's concerns, rooted in economic precarity, inequality, and rejecting mainstream politics, continue to shape activism today.

My hot take is that while the movement was a monumental event, we need to consider that while non-Americans were involved, such as the Spanish couple from the Milkman, Luce and Lewis text, the movement overwhelmingly consisted of affluent, educated white youth. As other weeks have stated, it is problematic to say that this is what the people want if the sample is only partially diverse.

POST LECTURE / MODERN DAY CONNECTION / REVISED TAK

My modern-day connection is The Big Short.

Just kidding. But in all seriousness the lecture did remind me of the movie.

The Al Jazeera Boots Reilly video was bone-chilling. The interviewee who stated that "it took white girls getting pepper sprayed in the face to get attention" struck me. This quote struck me and forced me to consider my positionality and how I, as a white, educated female, often benefit from systems of oppression. I think that media like this video, which include jarring images and stories, are really powerful tools to help people who may not fully grasp the issue at hand understand that the system is flawed and that they can help fix it.

Once again, I enjoyed the connection to the Zapatista week's concept of the swarm. I adored the four ways to "act like an ant and dream like a giant." In particular, I like the last suggestion: listen to your neighbours because I thought it was a friendlier, less intense way to say "be an anti-globalist."

The general assemblies, which are described as horizontal meetings to discuss issues of common good rationally, are brilliant! How lovely to have a place where everyone stands on equal footing. However, it is important to be aware of the tyranny of structurelessness.

My (real) modern-day connection is Black Lives Matter (BLM). Like OWS, there is a floating signifier that connects many folks for several reasons. BLM uses a closed fist to bring its people together. BLM has also occupied public space from time to time. The most famous is likely the 2020 Capitol Hill occupation, which also ended in tear gas and pepper spray.

My revised take is a question. I wonder if a slow approach to democracy is really the best solution. Perhaps this is simply to get our foot in the door and figure out the details later. However, our current democracy is in decline as polarization increases, so it can't hurt to try, right?

[coutelier]

Name: Jennifer Willow Airhart

Nicknames/Aliases: Tech-Witch, Lighthouse Keeper

Physical Description: 21 years old, 5ft 4inches, blue irises, blonde hair.

Personality: Intelligent and creative, intensely curious, but isolated – she’s never comfortable around people she doesn’t know.

Skills/Abilities: Engineering and science. Loves puzzles and mysteries.

Quotes:

Jennifer: “Well life is change; she changed, I’ve changed, even you change. Every second you’re acquiring new data to incorporate into your algorithms, so you’re never the same computer you were yesterday or even a moment ago.”

–

Jennifer: “Oh – I’m a scientist. I always assume I know nothing. However, I have made observations of you and have a hypothesis that I am about to test.”

–

Kaya: “Oh. So it’s like that old video game, Spore?”

Jennifer: “It is a very complex, highly technical piece of machinery that must have taken the greatest minds years to put to… it’s like Spore.”

Biography:

Jennifer’s mother, Ada, was a historian and archaeologist. Her father, Jonathan, a scientist and geneticist who worked for Stag Corp and its parent company – Meridiem.

They always encouraged Jennifer’s curiosity and creativity, although as she got older this would cause them much worry as she would spend more and more time outside of the house in search of fairies, Bigfoot, or whatever other cryptid she had read about that day. At home wasn’t much safer – when she was eight she made herself mechanical wings and had to be stopped before she could test them by jumping off the roof.

At school Jennifer had few friends – most of the other children thought she was weird and a bit scary and sometimes bullied her because of it.  But one girl did stand up for her – Kaya Cade. The two became almost as close as sisters, with Kaya always assisting Jennifer in her explorations and experiments.

But at the age of thirteen Jennifer’s life changed dramatically. It began with her parents being hired by Meridiem for some sort of expedition – an expedition from which they would never return. The company never divulged full details of what happened – only that they had disappeared. Jennifer – now in the care of her aunt and uncle – waited for days and then months then years for them to return, but they never have. Her aunt and uncle had a very different world view from, consulting psychics and mediums for clues, but all they ever offered was false leads and promises (and sometimes the claims they seriously made were completely outrageous – like they had been kidnapped by Icelandic slave traders…)

At school Jennifer became increasingly withdrawn, even from Kaya who would ultimately seek out other company. Unfortunately Kaya chose her new friends poorly – Angela Greif seemed to have a very clear idea of who she was and that drew less certain people to her. But who she was, was a very nasty bully, and a frequent target of hers was Jennifer. Angela and Jennifer came to blows many times, but in a physical fight Jenn was simply no match for Angela’s cruelty. Indeed, Jenn’s repeated failures likely only encouraged Angela to pick on her more.

When school ended, Jennifer didn’t pursue a higher education as many would have expected from her. She continued to live with her aunt and uncle for a short time. Her uncle then purchased a lighthouse – a monument built by Irongate University decades ago but had been all but forgotten. A student had also built in it a large computer – the HeUristic anaLysis and Learning machine – HULL. Restoring it to working condition became a project of Jennifer’s, and she soon moved into the lighthouse on her own, becoming its keeper.

She would embark on many other projects, supporting herself with both her inheritance and by licensing some of her inventions and code to various companies. She might have lived out the rest of her days alone in the lighthouse, her dreams of exploring and unravelling all the world’s mysteries forgotten. But then she had an unexpected visit from an old friend…

[guyinlovewitheremika]

Oooh could you expand on why you liked the op?? I honestly don't know what to make of it yet, especially since it felt so different from other ops, but I'd love to hear your thoughts!

Absolutely will do!! This took longer than I wanted cause everytime I sat down to write I started getting distracted from the OP and just listening to it on repeat lmao

To start this off, I should add that throughout the week leading up to release date, I was following a couple of leakers on twitter who did drop some info on the OP; mainly that Shinsei Kamattechan were returning, the title, that it wasnt gonna feature any characters and instead be a metaphor for the “cruelty of war”. Knowing all of that had me pretty excited but also gave me the right expectations, so it wasnt too jarring to see at first. 

But, to jump into this, first of all, I just loooove the visual style in general. It mostly just being static shades of white and light grey, with these very washed out colors exploding and flowing onto the image...it’s absolutely gorgeous! Like I just really dig this color scheme. And it’s highlighted even further by the gorgeous, fluid animation...these explosions look so good! I’m also just a big sucker for familiar characters/entities being represented in a sort of timeless way...be it a portrait, a statue, a monument, whatever (think smth like this), so seeing Eren and the other titans at the end there was just an absolute treat. Whatever that thing is, I want some kind of print/purchasable piece of merch of it because that heap of titans looks amazing. 

The song also just bangs tbh. It’s such a weird agglomeration of instruments and vocals but I find it comes together really well. The childrens choir, the piano at the beginning, the distorted vocals and most importantly that E-violin!!! so fucking good! Honestly I just love the way this song sounds and Im more hyped for the full version than the ost release atm (even tho I love what we heard so far from that too). The combination of the visuals with the music too is great here...I’ve never seen a flamethrower used in combination with the beat of a song before (outside of mad max fury road I guess lol?) but goddamn its just such a cool fucking combination I cant get over it. 

I have some thoughts on the imagery and the symbolism and my interpretations of it all, and I wanna get into those too, but really, the main thing I absolutely love about this OP is how different it is. Just as the marley arc is probably the most different of all in the manga, just as the new studio has made a show that, in many ways, looks feels and sounds vastly different from the old Attack on Titan, the OP encapsulates all of that by just being this new thing and succeeding at it

I love WIT’s OP’s, I love Linked Horizon’s work on the show. But honestly, the “Linked Horizon hype OP” genre pretty much peaked with Guren no Yumiya for me. I still like all the others, but overall, OP 1, 2, 3 and 5 just feel a bit too same-y for me, especially given that I honestly don’t think any of the follow ups surpass the original. Heck all these other songs even reference GnY in some capacity--I cant help but feel like they could never let go of Guren’s success and never tried something else. Except for Red Swan of course, which is also my 2nd favorite WIT OP. It’s slower, it’s sadder, it’s melancholic, and vastly different from all the others, and I really appreciate that. It tries to be its own thing and it succeeded for me. And “My War” even more so feels like it has a very distinct, unique vision, goes all out in that way, and it just works beautifully.   

And it’s that distinct, unique vision that I wanna dig into lastly here, because, just as the marley arc does for this manga, I find that out of all the OP’s, My War most explicitely depicts and visualizes many of the core thematic ideas of Attack on Titan and brings them directly into the forefront. I’ve seen a bunch of cool interpretations of the song at this point, and someone may have somewhere already said all this, but I wanna throw it in here regardless

After countless battles, sacrifices, victories and losses, Eren and the survey corps were able to win the war against the titans that their walled world was stuck in for a hundred years. Their gigantic enemies were defeated, and freedom ought to lie ahead. But no, beyond the shores is just more...more oppression, more war, more death and more sacrifice. The history their king to from them is one of war and oppression, a never ending cycle of violence, spanning back 2000 years, continuing forward. One oppressive regime falls, only for the next to take its place. This has been the history of mankind since the dawn of man, and it continues on and on and on. 

This is what this episode shows us, another military battle around another walled encampment, and this is what this opening shows us...a world perpetually at war. Man’s hatred for one another leads to conflict, to war: it’s continued existence in history and continued technological advancements are the perfect visual representation of this. Man’s capacity for war breeds more war, and it takes lives and it takes freedom and it doesnt stop, it just keeps consuming. 

The Opening starts off with battleships, artillery fire, mortars, flamethrowers, nuclear explosions and a titan spine forming among them all, until the birds of freedom fall dead out of the sky. Neverending armies of soldiers march the streets, airships rule the sky, but all the soldiers, all the military craft, the marleyan military and the paradisian soldiers all fall to pieces and get destroyed. War and conflict rage on and all the pieces fall to the ground, littering the earth in nothing but death and destruction. And at the end, atop this mountain of corpses and mayhem, the titans arise, reaching forward, attacking. They are born from mankinds neverending cycle of destruction, the physical manifestation of our inner demons that lead us to kill each other. 

I thoroughly believe that this sequence of events most perfectly encapsulates all of attack on titan. Look at the marley arc: the years of their attempts to wipe out Paradis island lead the island and the attack titan straight to them, delivering a terrible blow to them during their declaration of war. 2000 years ago it was the warmongering, slave hording king fritz who had a girl hunted for sport who brought about the era of the eldian empire, creating a system to eternally maintain the titan’s ability to wage war and rule the lands that would wind up ripping humanity apart. Look at the final arc: all of humanities hatred towards the island devils birthed the final attack titan and his horde of demons who have come to trample the world underfoot. The titans have always arisen as the consequence of man’s tendency towards conflict and death. Eren’s titan first formed from inside a titan who just killed him, his last titan was born out of his own death yet again. Titans are man’s desire to kill given shape, and the more man kills and fights, the more titans arise. 

It’s a bleak and terrible look at the cruelty of the world, that I think the OP highlights immensly well. It’s a gorgeous looking and sounding 90 seconds, and despite its contents being essentially horrifying, its fun to look at and listen to. Isayama once said about Eren’s attack in marley that “what eren does here is the worst thing. but if you were able to feel just a little bit of excitement from it, then it was worth drawing manga all this time”. Somehow, one way or another, we’re drawn to conflict, despite how terrible it is. And I think this opening manifests this beautifully 

[fuckyeahmeikokaji]

Meiko Kaji (梶芽衣子) in a screencap from Monument To The Girls’ Corps (あゝひめゆりの塔), released on this day in 1968 and directed by Toshio Masuda (舛田利雄).

http://fuckyeahmeikokaji.tumblr.com/

[meimikana]

Meimiday 2021 Wall of Awesome

GET EXCITE!

January 28th is my birthday, dubbed Meimiday several years ago by my friends (I think it was hojo who started it). For those years, I would spend all day watching streams from said friends playing games for my birthday entertainment. Nine years ago, however, when asked what I’d like to see I kinda just went “Why don’t you just beat some games?” and so the festivities truly began. Most of us frequent the Backloggery, so it’s kinda easy to see why it has snowballed~

IGNITE YOUR HYPE!

Neko :C: Picture Painting Puzzle 1000 :C: Pic-a-Pix Deluxe :B: & :C:ed Pic-a-Pix Pieces :B: Captain Toad: Treasure Tracker

Hojo :B: Picross S2 :B: Xenoblade Chronicles 2 :B: S.C.A.T.: Special Cybernetic Attack Team :B: Donkey Kong Jr.

SaintTweeter :C: Kirby's Dream Land 2 :B: Metroid: Samus Returns :C: Chrono Cross :B: Tekken 7 :B: Under Night In-Birth Exe:Late[st] :B: Granblue Fantasy: Versus :C: Legend of Zelda: Link's Awakening

endaso :B: Remothered: Broken Porcelain

Geminias :B: No More Heroes :B: No More Heroes 2 :B: Flipping Death :B: SteamWorld Heist :B: Deltarune

Altrius :B: Dragon Age II

PaperLink :C: Shantae :C: X-Scape

Young Scott :C: River City Girls

souless_ginger :B: Nights of Azure

floony :B: Spyro 3: Year of the Dragon

fireemblemlord :B: River City Ransom :B: Pro Wrestling

Dia :B: Axiom Verge

jim profit :B: & :C: Cyber Shadow

Seyfert :B: Tales of Berseria

starkirby :B: Puyo Puyo Tetris

AlienJesus :B: Coca-Cola Kid :B: Gunstar Heroes

ConsoleHandheld :B: Monument Valley 2

Macc :B: Game & Watch Gallery :C: & :M: The Stanley Parable :B: You Have to Win the Game

Drumble :C: Blaster Master Zero 2

CephiYumi :B: Katamari Damacy REROLL

Slythex :C: Megadimension Neptunia VII

Rikkuni :B: Scott Pilgrim vs. The World :B: Chroma Squad

Ange :B: Dragon's Dogma: Dark Arisen

Try4ce :B: Blaster Master Zero 2 :C: Final Fantasy Adventure

Lyndis :C: Contra: Hard Corps :B: Heroes of Might and Magic II: The Price of Loyalty

Enchilada :B: The Legend of Zelda Randomizer

John :B: Uncharted 4: A Thief's End

Honorable Mention: iErebus :B: Hades (1 hour before cause he's not gonna have time to vidya tomorrow, alas.)

eski514 Finished the Mandarin Chinese course in Duolingo!

[mememanufactorum]

Halo 2 quote starters

* FEEL FREE TO SHARE AS YOU PLEASE, NO CREDIT NEEDED. CHANGE PRONOUNS OR ANYTHING ELSE AS DESIRED.

-The Heretic-

“This has gone on long enough. Make an example of this bungler.”

“The weight of your heresy will stay your feet, and you shall be left behind.”

“You know how expensive this gear is?”

-The Armory-

“Hey, take it easy!”

“Careful, you’ll pull a tendon doing that!”

“Fine, but don’t come cryin’ to me when you rip your leg out of its socket.”

“This is important. You should at least look at me when I’m explaining it.”

“Look, just ‘cause the brass kisses your ass don’t mean I will.”

“Look at me when I talk to you.”

“Are you listenin’ to me?”

“Would it help if I said please?”

“When are you gonna tell me how you made it back home in one piece?”

“Well, he’s in a particularly fine mood.”

“Nobody’s sayin’ much, but I think something big’s about to happen.”

-Cairo Station-

“You told me there wouldn’t be any cameras.”

“You told me you were gonna wear something nice.”

“Folks need heroes, to give ‘em hope. So, smile, would ya? While we still got something to smile about.”

“You’ve drawn quite a crowd.”

“If they came to hear me beg, they will be disappointed.”

“We’re lucky to have you back.”

“I’m sorry, but we’re gonna have to make this quick.”

“You look nice.”

“I need a weapon.”

“Check your targets and watch the crossfire.”

“They’re in standard formation: Little bastards up front, big ones in back.”

“As soon as that door opens, let ‘em have it!”

“I don’t believe it! They’re retreating! We won!”

“This is bad! Real bad!”

“Just a friendly reminder: Bomb.”

“If this thing goes off, I am NEVER talking to you again.”

“Tell your friends I got enough ammo for all of ya!”

“Come on, is that a weapon or a flashlight?”

“How much time was left?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“I know what you’re thinking, and it’s crazy.”

“So, stay here.”

“Unfortunately for us both, I like crazy.”

“Just one question… What if you miss?”

“For a brick, he flew pretty good!”

-Outskirts-

“Any idea what it means?”

“Hey. Wake up.”

“Talk to me. Should I start CPR? What’s going on?”

“Blink if you can hear me.”

“If they didn’t know we’re here before, they do now!”

“Oh man, I love the beach.”

“I hope you packed a suit.”

“I don’t think they expected us to be here.”

-Metropolis-

“It blew right through us!”

“You had your chance to be afraid before you joined my beloved Corps. But to guide you back to the true path, I have brought this motivational device.”

“When I joined the Corps, we didn’t have any fancy-schmancy tanks! We had sticks! Two sticks and a rock! And we had to share the rock!”

“Usually the good Lord works in mysterious ways. But not today!”

“If God is Love, then you can call me Cupid!”

“They’re tough, but they ain’t invincible.”

“He never gets me anything.”

“Oh, I know what the ladies like.”

“That’s quite a welcome party.”

“Who’s in charge now?”

“See this look?! It’s terror!”

“Did I give you permission to bitch?!”

“I don’t think it’s stopping, get your heads down!”

“That thing is really starting to PISS ME OFF!”

“It can’t go any further this way. We have it trapped.”

“That’s right, you mothers! Run!”

-The Arbiter-

“How much further must we heft this baggage? Any cell will do.”

“Why not toss him in with this lot? They could use the meat.”

“Ultimately, the terms of your execution are up to me.”

“I am already dead.”

“Do you know where we are?”

“Even on my knees, I do not belong in their presence.”

“They would use the faith of our forefathers to bring ruin to us all!”

“What use am I?”

“That armor suits you, but it cannot hide that mark.”

“Their lives matter to me. Yours does not.”

“Warriors, prepare for combat!”

“Be silent and swift, and we shall quell this heresy without incident.”

“We have the element of surprise… For now.”

“That was the last of them – but there are more ahead.”

-The Oracle-

“That stench… I’ve smelled it before.”

“Close your jaw or I shall bind it shut!”

“Come out so we may kill you.”

“We should have brought weapons to burn these bodies.”

“We’ll never break through this!”

“May our Lords guide you.”

“We shall not forget your sacrifice.”

“Keep your blade handy.”

“Take my blade.”

“Turn, heretic.”

“Who has taught you these lies?”

“More questions? Splendid! I would be happy to assist you.”

“Unfortunate. His edification was most enjoyable.”

“Why do you meddlers insist on using such inaccurate verbiage?”

-Delta Halo-

“I don’t care if I have the clearance or not.”

“Where’s our target?”

“Until I can move and fight, I’m going to keep a low profile.”

“Hang onto your helmet!”

“Mind the bump.”

“Could we possibly make any more noise?! ...I guess so.”

“If I were a megalomaniac – and I’m not – that’s where I’d be.”

“I heard that, jackass!”

“Transcendence, huh? More like mass suicide.”

“You always bring me to such nice places.”

“They don’t seem to consider us a very serious threat. Boy, are they in for a big surprise.”

-Regret-

“Wait, go back!”

“I’d need to make a thorough survey to be sure.”

“I wish I had more time to decipher these inscriptions.”

“Well, they were nice enough to bring us a ride.”

“Sorry, were you trying to kill something?”

“And people say I’ve got a big head.”

“Oh man, he’s SO dead.”

“Oh, great! We’re gonna ride another one of these death traps!”

“Man, look at the size of that thing!”

“Guards! Remove this vermin from my sight!”

“You dare to interrupt my sermon?!”

“Surely you can do better than that?”

“Perhaps you underestimated me, no?”

“This is not your grave… But you are welcome in it.”

-Sacred Icon-

“This is unprecedented… Unacceptable!”

“Are you questioning my decision?”

“Politics… How tiresome.”

“We have always been your protectors.”

“These are trying times for all of us.”

“Why? Looking for a little payback?”

“Let’s see if you fare better.”

“Stay in the shadows, wait until it loses interest, then strike the beast when its back is turned.”

“We must hold this camp until reinforcements arrive.”

-Quarantine Zone-

“I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Forward, warriors, and fear not pain nor death!”

“No matter, they will die all the same.”

“Steel your nerves, we’re not turning back.”

“I grow restless without a target.”

“Ignore the braggart. Ready yourselves.”

“That fool! He’ll alert them to our presence!”

“Look on the bright side, if we’re lucky, they’ll shoot him down.”

“You know, your father never asked me for help either.”

“We got trouble.”

“How you doin’?”

“A bloody fate awaits you and the rest of your incompetent race.”

-Gravemind-

“What… Is that?”

“I am a monument to all your sins.”

“Relax. I’d rather not piss this thing off.”

“Kill me or release me. But do not waste my time with talk!”

“There is much talk, and I have listened through rock and metal and time. Now I shall talk, and you shall listen.”

“We have much to do!”

“You know nothing about containment! You have demonstrated a complete disregard for even the most basic of protocols!”

“If you will not hear the truth, then I shall show it to you.”

“They’re beefing up their patrols. Stay sharp.”

“The path is broad, and we shall walk it side by side.”

“Be glad! A reward for all your toil and all your sacrifices in the year at hand.”

“There are those who said this day would never come. What have they to say now?”

“Look on the bright side: For now, they seem much more interested in killing each other.”

-Uprising-

“Let’s just throw them over the edge.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“So, you’ve come to save your friends!”

“They have shed our brothers’ blood… And for that, they must die.”

“So much for a stealthy advance.”

“Bah! Over so soon?”

“Long have I waited for this!”

“...And yet I live.”

“What vulgar taste. Even as trophies, these weapons are useless.”

-High Charity-

“Your pal. Where’s he going?”

“Not a very original plan, but we know it’ll work.”

“No enemy has ever withstood our might.”

“Arrogant creature. Your death will be instantaneous, while we shall suffer the progress of infinitude!”

“We exist together now… Two corpses in one grave.”

“This crisis will not be the end of us.”

“If you will falter, know this… One final effort is all that remains.”

“I can’t go with you.”

“Don’t make a girl a promise… If you know you can’t keep it.”

-The Great Journey-

“I know a way to break those doors.”

“A day’s rations says I can do this in one cut.”

“You don’t like me, and I sure as hell don’t like you.”

“I just happen to have a key.”

“Hey, bastards! Knock knock!”

“Ha, ha, that’s real funny. I’m still shootin’.”

“What, do I have to spell it out for you? MOVE!”

“Are you trying to get killed? Gimmie some room!”

“Not another word!”

“If you want to keep your brain inside your head, I’ll tell your boys to chill.”

“Go ahead, do your thing.”

“You want revenge? Well, here I am. Come and take it.”

“Just like the rest of your race, cowardly and weak.”

“A lucky hit. You shall not land another.”

“Silence fills the empty grave now that I have gone.”

“My mind is not at rest, for questions linger on. I will ask, and you will answer.”

[stubbornshrub]

Bulletproof

First ever fic, designed to be a balm for CW disappointment and thesis stress. Set post-crisis

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23221120/chapters/55594882

Chapter 1:

“What can I say about the Luthor family that hasn’t already been said?”

It was a clear, bright day in National City. Beautiful, really. The sun was warming, without scorching, and clouds were exiled from an azure sky; a pleasant breeze wafted across the waterfront. Kara glanced at the veiled statue ahead of her and wished her powers included the ability to summon rain.

Ahead of her, the mayor continued to wax lyrical about the contributions of the Luthor family to the prosperity of National City. Today marked the unveiling of a statue commemorating Lex, Lillian, and Lena, and their philanthropic efforts through the L-Corp – Luthor Corp, Kara remembered with disgust – foundation. She had been assigned to cover the event by Andréa, who remained as persistent as ever in her efforts to ensure that Kara never had the chance to undertake any serious journalism. To make matters worse, this monument to Lex’s ego shared harbor real estate with the statue of Supergirl that had previously been a matter of personal pride; it now would serve as a reminder of Lex’s ability to usurp even the destruction of the multiverse for his own selfish reasons.

“For their work serving the city, there is no more fitting tribute than to immortalize their efforts next to their biggest champion. Now,” the mayor paused for dramatic flair, “without any further ado: thank you to the Luthor family!” The audience applauded as the cloth covering slithered to the ground, revealing three metallic figures gleaming in the afternoon sun. Lex was front and center, sporting an easy smile that belied his devious and menacing nature. He was flanked on his left by his enigmatic mother, her hair pulled back into an imposing bun behind her head. His sister stood to his right, the metal adding a coldness to her familiar features. Kara looked at the depiction of Lena. Of all of them, Lena was the only one to work for the betterment of others in any reality. She had often been the unsung hero when threats faced the city; she was deserving of the recognition, of that Kara was sure. It was just jarring to see her recognized alongside her villainous family members. “I am now delighted to introduce Lena Luthor, who has a few words.”

Kara’s heart started beating more rapidly. She had not been informed that Lena would be attending the unveiling herself. This was not in the brief. The two hadn’t been this close since the aftermath of the crisis, and Lena hadn’t seen Kara as Kara since well before their confrontation in the Fortress of Solitude. Lena reached the podium after a few short strides. A politician’s smile was plastered to her face, but Kara was sad to see that the smile never reached her eyes. She doubted anyone else noticed.

“Thank you all for being here today.” Lena’s gaze swept the crowd as if attempting to thank everyone individually with a look. For a paralyzing moment, Kara met Lena’s roving eyes before the CEO pointedly looked away. “I am honored and humbled for myself and my family to be recognized with such a lasting monument,” she continued. “Since moving our headquarters to National City some years ago, we have tried to use the Luthor name to—”

“There is no such thing as a good Luthor.”

The words were spat with such venom, and the crowd parted to expose the man responsible. He might have been tall, once, but his shoulders were hunched as if an invisible weight pushed down on him from above. His dark hair was matted with sweat and his suit was disheveled, his errant tie clinging by a whisker to his neck. His eyes darted madly between the crowd and the stage, and his right hand clenched and unclenched uncontrollably as if he were trying to capture the air. Kara began to surreptitiously edge out of the press section, angling for a gap behind the distracted reporters that would allow her to speed into her suit undetected.

“Luthor, Luthor, Luthor, no such thing as a good Luthor! This is not how it should be! Do you not remember the red flash, the oblivion, the nothingness?” He was screaming now with hysterical fervor. “This is all your fault!”

His hand plunged into his jacket, and with almost impossible speed it emerged with a handgun pointed directly at Lena. The air cracked with sound of gunshots and time appeared to stand still, before a blue blur flashed in front of the frozen Luthor; the bullets collided with Supergirl’s chest and fell harmlessly to the ground with a delicate tinkle. Dark-suited security officers, finally forcing a route through the crush, tackled the assailant to the ground. The attacker hit the concrete still madly spouting obscenities, screeching about a wave of red and an exodus that left millions behind. Noting that he was no longer an imminent threat and trying for a moment to ignore the profound unease she felt hearing a civilian remember the death of the multiverse, Kara slowly turned to face Lena.

“Are you okay?”, she queried.

“I’m not bleeding out on stage,” Lena replied, with a mix of fear and relief in her eyes, “so I suppose it could be worse.” She hesitated for a moment, then her emotionless mask slid over her features. “Thank you, Supergirl.”

Kara inwardly winced at the speed at which Lena had thrown up her walls. She looked around and observed that they were alone on the platform, and well away from any prying ears. “My name is Kara, Lena. I’m still Kara.” Her voice filled with concern. “Are you sure you’re ok?”

“I’m used to threats on my life, Supergirl,” Lena responded icily. “I appreciate you saving me – but we aren’t friends. How I am is none of your concern. And as for Kara…Kara Danvers isn’t real.” With that parting blow, she turned on her heels and left to discuss the proceedings with the mayor. Kara felt like she’d been punched in the gut. She tore into the sky before any of the remaining photographers could capture that the girl of steel could cry.

[leparfumdesmots1]

  En cette période difficile, nous devrions de nous instruire davantage. Cela passe, parmi d’autres possibilités, par les livres que nous lisons. Aujourd’hui, je vais vous proposer une liste de vingt-et-un ouvrages qui amplifient les voix noires et leurs expériences et qui, selon moi, pourraient éclairer les lecteurs pour mener à bien leur parcours antiraciste.

Nous devons faire mieux, et cela doit commencer dès aujourd’hui. Il ne suffit pas de ne pas être raciste, il faut également être antiraciste et c’est grâce, en partie, à l’éducation (dans son sens large) que l’on pourra faire changer les préjugés tant implicites que explicites que nous avons. La liste que je vous présente aujourd’hui sera constituée de romans, d’ouvrages de non-fiction, mais aussi des autobiographies.

Par soucis de transparence (et de rapidité), les synopsis sont tirés de différents sites Web tels que Livraddict, Babelio, Fnac, Amazon… Certains titres n’ont pas encore été traduit en français, un peu de patience 😉.

Girl, Woman, Other – Bernadine Evaristo

Girl, Woman, Other suit la vie et les combats de douze personnages très différents. Principalement des femmes, noires et britanniques, elles racontent les histoires de leurs familles, de leurs amis et de leurs amants, à travers le pays et au fil des ans. Joyeusement polyphonique et vibrant de contemporanéité, c’est une histoire d’un genre glorieusement nouveau, un roman de notre temps : festif, toujours dynamique et tout à fait irrésistible.

La couleur pourpre – Alice Walker

Depuis leur séparation, depuis des années, Nettie et Celie, deux jeunes Noires, soeurs tendrement unies, n’ont cessé de s’écrire. Mais aucune missive, jamais, n’est parvenue ni à l’une ni à l’autre.

C’est que Celie, restée là-bas, près de Memphis, subit la loi d’un mari cruel qui déchire toutes les lettres venues d’Afrique – où Nettie est missionnaire. Alors Celie, la femme-enfant, écrira via le bon dieu, qui, lui, sait tout… Pourquoi, entre elles, cette correspondance déchirante et sans fin, obstinée, presque immatérielle?

L’oeil le plus bleu – Toni Morrison

Chaque nuit, Pecola priait pour avoir des yeux bleus. Elle avait onze ans et personne ne l’avait jamais remarquée. Mais elle se disait que si elle avait des yeux bleus, tout serait différent. Elle serait si jolie que ses parents arrêteraient de se battre. Que son père ne boirait plus. Que son frère ne ferait plus de fugues. Si seulement elle était belle. Si seulement les gens la regardaient.

Quand quelqu’un entra, la regarda enfin, c’était son père et il était saoul. Elle faisait la vaisselle. Il la viola sur le sol de la cuisine, partagé entre la haine et la tendresse. Tout aurait pu être différent pourtant si Cholly avait retrouvé son père, si Pauline avait eu une maison bien rangée comme elle les aimait, si Pecola avait eu les yeux bleus…

Publié aux États-Unis en 1970, L’œil le plus bleu est le premier roman de Toni Morrison, Prix Nobel 1993.

The walker dancer – Ta-Nehisi Coates

Racontant de façon convaincante le travail clandestin des cellules abolitionnistes enterrées dans le Sud profond du XIXe siècle, The Water Dancer est une tranche profonde et sans peur de la fiction historique des croisades.

Tout s’effondre – Chinua Achebe

Dans le village ibo d’Umuofia, Okonkwo est un homme écouté dont la puissance et le courage sont vantés par tous, un fermier prospère qui veille sur ses trois épouses et sur ses huit enfants, un sage guerrier jouissant de la confiance des anciens. Son monde repose sur un équilibre cohérent de règles et de traditions, mais l’extérieur s’apprête à violer cette réalité qui semblait immuable : les missionnaires d’abord, les colons britanniques ensuite vont bouleverser irrémédiablement l’existence de tout un peuple.

Tragique roman à la langue limpide, Tout s’effondre rend hommage à l’Afrique précoloniale à l’aube de sa décomposition. “Tant que les lions n’auront pas leurs propres historiens, l’histoire de la chasse glorifiera toujours le chasseur”, dit un proverbe africain. Avec cette fable cruelle, Chinua Achebe devenait l’un des premiers lions du continent à prendre la plume.

Underground Railroad – Colson Whitehead

Evocation cauchemardesque de la torpeur morale et de la brutalité irréfléchie du Sud de l’Antebellum, le récit de Whitehead retentit en même temps que la traction implacable et le mouvement désespéré du système de wagons couverts souterrains qui transportait les esclaves à travers les Etats-Unis. Furieux, sage et insupportablement poignant, The Underground Railroad est la réalisation suprême de Whitehead.

Plus noire est la mûre – Wallace Thurman

“Le drame de sa vie, c’était d’être trop noire ” : de son Idaho natal à la légendaire Harlem, en passant par Los Angeles, le périple d’Emma Lou est celui d’une soeur noire d’Emma Bovary. Forte d’une bouleversante liberté sexuelle, elle doit néanmoins apprendre que la seule façon de construire sa vie est d’opérer une plongée en elle-même, plutôt que de se résoudre aux injonctions que la société lui impose.

Dans la perspective d’une identité afro-américaine en pleine construction, Emma Lou incarne ainsi superbement la possibilité d’un destin individuel audacieux et captivant. Traduit en francais pour la premiere fois, ce roman percutant de 1929 fut le premier à s’attaquer aux préjugés sur la couleur de peau, à l’intérieur même de la race. Il devint ainsi l’un des plus lus et des plus controversés de son temps.

Mais leurs yeux dardaient sur Dieu – Zora Neale Hurston

Janie avait seize ans. Un feuillage vernissé et des bourgeons tout près d’éclore et le désir de prendre à bras-le-corps la vie, mais la vie semblait se dérober. Où donc étaient-elles, ses abeilles chanteuses à elle ?…

Du haut des marches elle scruta le monde aussi loin qu’elle put, et puis elle descendit jusqu’à la barrière et s’y pencha pour contempler la route de droite et de gauche. Guettant, attendant, le souffle écourté par l’impatience. Attendant que le monde vienne à se faire. » Il ne faudra pas moins de trois mariages et trois vies – le vieux Logan Killicks et ses sentiments trop frustes, le fringant Joe Starks et ses ambitions politiques dévorantes, puis la promesse d’égalité, l’étreinte d’amour et le frisson extatique qu’incarne Tea Cake – pour permettre à Janie d’atteindre toute la mesure de son rêve d’émancipation et de liberté.

Portrait d’une femme entière, animée par la force de son innocence, qui brave la rumeur du monde et se révèle à l’existence, Mais leurs yeux dardaient sur Dieu est un chef-d’œuvre – et l’un des tout premiers romans écrits par une Afro-Américaine. Un monument de la littérature, aussi percutant aujourd’hui que lors de sa parution aux États-Unis en 1937. À découvrir ou redécouvrir dans une traduction inédite magistrale.

La haine qu’on donne – Angie Thomas

Starr a seize ans, elle est noire et vit dans un quartier difficile, rythmé par les guerres entre gangs, la drogue et les descentes de police. Tous les jours, elle rejoint son lycée blanc situé dans une banlieue chic ; tous les jours, elle fait le grand écart entre ses deux vies, ses deux mondes. Mais tout vole en éclats le soir où son ami d’enfance Khalil est tué. Sous ses yeux, de trois balles dans le dos. Par un policier trop nerveux. Starr est la seule témoin. Et tandis que son quartier s’embrase, tandis que la police cherche à enterrer l’affaire, tandis que les gangs font pression sur elle pour qu’elle se taise, Starr va apprendre à surmonter son deuil et sa colère ; et à redresser la tête.

Queenie – Candice Carty-Williams

Coincée entre la famille britannique jamaïcaine qui ne semble pas la comprendre, un travail qui n’est pas tout ce qu’elle a promis et un homme dont elle ne peut tout simplement pas se remettre, la vie de Queenie semble être en constante escalade. Tentant désespérément de se frayer un chemin à travers un fouillis de cultures changeantes et de relations toxiques et d’en sortir avec une once de dignité, ses faux pas et ses mésaventures provoqueront des hurlements de rire et des larmes de pitié – souvent sur la même page.

Such a fun age – Kiley Reid

Lorsqu’Emira est appréhendée dans un supermarché pour avoir “kidnappé” l’enfant blanc qu’elle garde, cela déclenche une chaîne d’événements explosive. Son employeur, Alix, une blogueuse féministe avec une “marque personnelle” et les meilleures intentions, décide d’arranger les choses. Mais Emira elle-même est sans but, fauchée et se méfie du désir d’Alix de l’aider. Lorsqu’elle rencontre quelqu’un du passé d’Alix, les deux femmes se retrouvent dans une course effrénée qui va bouleverser tout ce qu’elles pensent savoir – sur elles-mêmes, sur l’autre et sur la dynamique désordonnée des privilèges.

Le racisme est un problème de blancs – Reni Eddo-Lodge

«Quand des Blancs feuillettent un magazine, surfent sur Internet ou zappent à la télévision, il ne leur semble jamais étrange de voir des gens qui leur ressemblent en position d’autorité. Les affirmations positives de la blanchité sont tellement répandues que le Blanc moyen ne les remarque même pas. Être blanc, c’est être humain ; être blanc, c’est universel. Je ne le sais que trop, car je ne suis pas blanche.»

Après l’élection de Barack Obama, certains ont proclamé l’avènement d’une société post-raciale. Avec une liberté de ton décapante, Reni Eddo-Lodge montre ici combien nous en sommes loin. Elle analyse les méfaits d’un racisme structurel persistant d’autant plus sournois qu’il avance masqué. Car le racisme va bien au-delà de la discrimination ou de l’injure personnelle. Il imprègne le récit historique, l’imaginaire collectif, les institutions et les entreprises.

Pourquoi les Blancs pensent-ils ne pas avoir d’identité raciale? Pourquoi la simple idée d’un James Bond noir fait-elle scandale? Comment une fillette noire en vient-elle à se persuader qu’en grandissant, elle deviendra blanche? Le racisme n’est pas une question de valeur morale, mais d’exercice du pouvoir. Entretenir la légende d’une égalité universelle n’aide en rien. Au contraire. Car, pour déconstruire le racisme, il faut commencer par reconnaître l’étendue du privilège blanc.

How to be an antiracist – Ibram X. Kendi

Dans ce livre émouvant et profondément empathique, Ibram X. Kendi, directeur fondateur de l’Antiracism Research and Policy Center, montre que lorsqu’il s’agit de racisme, la neutralité n’est pas une option : tant que nous ne faisons pas partie de la solution, nous ne pouvons qu’être une partie du problème.

So you want to talk about race – Ijeoma Oluo

So You Want to Talk About Race, le rédacteur en chef de The Establishment Ijeoma Oluo propose une vision contemporaine et accessible du paysage racial américain, en abordant de front des questions telles que les privilèges, la brutalité policière, l’intersectionnalité, les micro-agressions, le mouvement Black Lives Matter et le mot “N”. Parfaitement placé pour combler le fossé entre les personnes de couleur et les Américains blancs aux prises avec des complexités raciales, Oluo répond aux questions que les lecteurs n’osent pas poser, et explique les concepts qui continuent d’échapper aux Américains ordinaires.

La couleur de la justice – Michelle Alexander

« Il y a plus d’adultes africains-américains sous main de justice aujourd’hui – en prison, en mise à l’épreuve ou en liberté conditionnelle – qu’il n’y en avait réduits en esclavage en 1850. L’incarcération en masse des personnes de couleur est, pour une grande part, la raison pour laquelle un enfant noir qui naît aujourd’hui a moins de chances d’être élevé par ses deux parents qu’un enfant noir né à l’époque de l’esclavage. »

Dans ce livre devenu un classique des luttes contre la prison et le système judiciaire aux États-Unis, ­Michelle Alexander revient dans des pages ­fulgurantes sur les mutations de la domination ­raciale et de l’enfermement.

De l’esclavage aux innombrables prisons actuelles, en passant par la ségrégation de l’ère « Jim Crow », ce livre explore la façon dont en quelques décennies, avec la « guerre contre la drogue », les Noirs et les Latinos ont commencé à être enfermés en masse, jusqu’à dépasser aujourd’hui deux millions de prisonniers.

Du quadrillage policier aux ­cellules, en passant par le profilage racial et une machine judiciaire implacable, l’auteure dévoile tous les ­mécanismes de cette nouvelle ségrégation qui a créé une nouvelle « sous-caste raciale », une « race des prisonniers ».

Fragilité blanche – Robin Diangelo

POURQUOI EST-IL SI DIFFICILE DE PARLER DE RACISME QUAND ON EST BLANC ?

Nous vivons dans une société racialisée, et le pire est de l’ignorer. Un livre choc.

La sociologue américaine Robin DiAngelo a passé vingt ans à étudier cette question dans des ateliers sur la diversité et le multiculturalisme. Elle en a tiré un concept fondamental pour comprendre le rapport des Blancs au racisme : la fragilité blanche, un mécanisme de défense ou de déni qui permet de détourner la conversation, empêchant d’identifier le racisme systémique qui persiste dans nos sociétés. Et donc de le combattre.

Dans ce livre devenu un phénomène aux États-Unis, en tête des meilleures ventes depuis deux ans, Robin DiAngelo nous donne les clés pour être véritablement antiraciste.

White rage – Carol Anderson

En reliant soigneusement […] les points chauds historiques où le progrès social des Afro-Américains a été contré par une opposition délibérée et intelligemment conçue, Anderson retire le voile qui a longtemps couvert les actions menées au nom de la protection de la démocratie, de la responsabilité fiscale ou de la protection contre la fraude, rendant visible la longue lignée de la rage blanche.

Ne suis-je pas une femme ? – Bell Hooks

“Ne suis-je pas une femme ?”, telle est la question que Sojourner Truth, ancienne esclave, abolitionniste noire des Etats-Unis, posa en 1851 lors d’un discours célèbre, interpellant féministes et abolitionnistes sur les diverses oppressions subies par les femmes noires : oppressions de classe, de race, de sexe. Héritière de ce geste, bell hooks décrit dans ce livre devenu un classique les processus de marginalisation des femmes noires et met en critique les féminismes blancs et leur difficulté à prendre en compte les oppressions croisées.

Je sais pourquoi l’oiseau chante en cage – Maya Angelou

Dans ce récit, considéré aujourd’hui comme un classique de la littérature américaine, Maya Angelou relate son parcours hors du commun, ses débuts d’écrivain et de militante dans l’Amérique des années 1960 marquée par le racisme anti-Noir, ses combats, ses amours. Son témoignage, dénué de la moindre complaisance, révèle une personnalité exemplaire. à la lire, on mesure – mieux encore – le chemin parcouru par la société américaine en moins d’un demi-siècle…

What doesn’t kill you makes you blacker – Damon Young

Pour Damon Young, exister alors que le noir est un sport extrême. L’acte de posséder une peau noire tout en cherchant de l’espace pour respirer en Amérique suffit à induire un état d’angoisse incessant où des questions telles que “Comment dois-je réagir ici, en tant que Noir professionnel” et “La salade de pommes de terre de ce Blanc va-t-elle me tuer ? What Doesn’t Kill You Makes You Blacker fait la chronique des efforts de Young pour survivre tout en luttant et en donnant un sens aux différentes névroses que son pays lui a données.

Devenir – Michelle Obama

“Il y a encore tant de choses que j’ignore au sujet de l’Amérique, de la vie, et de ce que l’avenir nous réserve. Mais je sais qui je suis. Mon père, Fraser, m’a appris à travailler dur, à rire souvent et à tenir parole. Ma mère, Marian, à penser par moi-même et à faire entendre ma voix. Tous les deux ensemble, dans notre petit appartement du quartier du South Side de Chicago, ils m’ont aidée à saisir ce qui faisait la valeur de notre histoire, de mon histoire, et plus largement de l’histoire de notre pays. Même quand elle est loin d’être belle et parfaite. Même quand la réalité se rappelle à vous plus que vous ne l’auriez souhaité. Votre histoire vous appartient, et elle vous appartiendra toujours. À vous de vous en emparer.”

  Je n'ai pas la solution pour lutter contre les comportements racistes. Mais je souhaite partager avec vous une liste de vingt-un ouvrages qui permettent, chacun à sa manière, de lutter efficacement. En cette période difficile, nous devrions de nous instruire davantage. Cela passe, parmi d'autres possibilités, par les livres que nous lisons.

[histoireettralala]

@joachimnapoleon? who asked me: 9, 19, and 26.

9- Favourite historical film ?

It’s a difficult choice, because the movie has to be engaging and respectful of History, with a good visual impact, and the watcher getting some pleasure out of it. Nothing is perfect. That being said, and keeping in mind that I’m not a Historian, just a History lover with her own fancies, I’d nominate:

* L’Allée du Roi by Nina Companeez in 1995, based on the book by Françoise Chandernagor. It’s the life of Françoise d’Aubigné, Marquise de Maintenon, and second wife of Louis XIV. Madame de Maintenon is the narrator and we follow her from her poor beginnings to glory in Versailles beside the King. I like the costumes, and the portrayal of the King, of Françoise, of their relationship, and of Louis XIV with his bastard children. This movie has an intimate atmosphere.

* Austerlitz, by Abel Gance in 1960. It is old and it shows, but I still like it. The marshals are all here, Lannes, Davout (actually played by a Davout d’Auerstaedt!), Murat, Soult, Bernadotte; Larrey is mentioned; the many schemes around Napoléon; his family! And of course the soldiers. And they sing, which is a wonderful touch. A lot of little things like historical quotes are seamlessly woven into this film.

And, it’s Austerlitz. It cheers me up.

* La Chambre des Officiers, by François Dupeyron in 2001, from a book by Marc Dugain. A young soldier is facially wounded in the first weeks of WW1. He’ll spend the whole war in the hospital. This movie is about the men who were disfigured during this conflict, the “Gueules Cassées”, Broken Faces. In their room, they will learn to keep on living, to find hope, faith, and love.

I want to watch the wonderful series made after the Carnets du Capitaine Coignet, just for the “mood”.

I liked “Les Rois Maudits”, (1972 version only) from a series of books by Maurice Druon, a romanticized version of real History, in early XIVth century France: Philippe le Bel, his sons and daughter, the great ministers, the humble people, and the Templars. It’s very entertaining.

“Rome” also had some points about the colors and atmosphere of ancient Rome.

19. Favourite historical books

Right now, I’m very much enjoying “Les Maréchaux de Napoléon” by Louis Chardigny. You can see the marshals  with their troops, with Napoleon, with their own family, with each other. The author doesn’t shy away from their flaws but simply shows them as the complicated, surprising human beings they were, with their vices and virtues. He obviously loves his subject, and it makes for a pleasant, touching read.

As a young girl, I like Régine Pernoud’s books, because she was determined to fight against the commonly held narrative about the Middle Ages, and wrote especially about women in the Middle Ages - and I was named for one of them.

I’m about to read The Betrayers by Hubert Cole and heard good things about this book.

I read many books and can’t remember them all, I’m sorry. It’s mostly about French History, and Ancient Greece and Rome. If any of you can tell me about good books to learn about History of other places (Japan, India, the US, and the Ottoman Empire for example), I’d be grateful.

26. Forgotten hero we should know about and admire ?

There are so many of them! But what about someone who did good for a lot of people and whose impact was worldwide ?

I’m pretty set on Dominique-Jean Larrey, Surgeon of the Grande Armée, for what he did for battlefield medicine and triage. He is often considered the first modern military surgeon. He initiated the system of army ambulance corps, and adapted  the carriages of the “flying artillery” into “flying ambulances.” He treated soldiers of enemy armies as well as the French and their allies, notably saving Blücher’s son.

Napoleon said:  "If the army ever erects a monument to express its gratitude, it should do so in honor of Larrey".

He was an absolute badass who didn’t let anyone get in his way to his wounded, protecting them fiercely.

NATO’s highest medical honor, “awarded in recognition of a significant and lasting contribution to NATO multi-nationality and/or interoperability, or to improvements in the provision of health care in NATO missions in the areas of medical support or healthcare development”, is the Dominique-Jean Larrey Award.

L’Allée du Roi, 1995

Austerlitz