#damn africa what happened

[autisticbokutoenthusiast]

rugby on my tv, boxing on my laptop, skateboarding highlights on my phone, learning a new song on the guitar, cooking breakfast, memorizing the vball schedule during breaks like olympics season is busyyyyyy

[gaywineauntsstuff]

Arabic in the batfam

@leefail has gotten me obsessed with how arabic would work in the batfamily

because arabic is natively spoken by 230 million people and is taught in any muslim majority to country because its considered poor faith to recite the Quran in any other language.

its also the most inconvenient and stupidly difficult language to learn in human history.

why?

because it is a colonial language

meaning the Arab empire happened and we all switched to arabic but unlike English... there wasn't the internet for people to learn how the 'og Arabs' spoke it and Arabs didn't slaughter and replace like the puritans they just taxed and converted (slaughter optional im not ignoring north Africa but it was region specific)

so that means that arabic which has a collective vocab of about 12.1 million words as well as a nasty habit of giving 100 words the same meaning as well as assigning 1 word like 8 meanings got practiced by these arabic speaking countries differently

so certain words fell out of use or changed meaning in one country while being startlingly popular in another

it also means that a lot of arabic regions maintained their older speech patters

latinised softer letters in levant countries closer to Cyprus due to the presence of Aramaic, syrianic and latin.

harsher more guttural sounds in regions that were closer to Iran.

so what does this mean? and Why does this mean arabic is a bitch to learn

well for one you don't write in your regional dialect, you write in modern standard or fus7a which is a whole other beast. Meaning that you don't really learn to speak in school.

two the dialects are significantly different enough across the region that people who learned arabic in Lebanon won't understand people from morocco.

now we are all SUPPOSed to speak Modern Standard Arabic but you have to understand how little it is used outside of like legal jargon. so you kinda lose it once you leave Arab formal education.

Which means if you immediately default to MSA 99% of Arabs will assume you are a cop like if you know the word for government but not skirt... come on man be less obvious.

Now most us speak 1 -3 dialects and understand 9-10

me personally I speak a levantine dialect and can understand most Egyptian, Jordanian and Gulf dialects. Iraqi and the rest of North Africa (with the exception of Tunisia) not so much.

Now what does that mean for arabic in the batfamily

its too useful for the Bats to not use

so do all of the bats speak arabic 1000%

Do all of them speak different dialects 1000%

Here they are imo

Bruce: Bruce is a cop (MSA) He can code switch and speak all the dialects but he just genuinely likes MSA, its the most complex and intricate form of the language and what's most commonly used for things like poetry and literature. But it does mean that his speech comes off very stilted and cringeworthy to most Arab speakers. The first dialect he learned was definitely Egyptian because its the one that's the most common in music and television as well as having the largest group of people speaking it (110 of the 230 million are from Egypt)

Dick: now I have no evidence for this but Dick Grayson would speak Lebanese arabic. It's notoriously the softest of the dialects and has the most higher pitched and flippy tones. His mother also grew up in France which would Fit for Dick since Lebanese Arabic tends to substitute harsher arabic words with French. the most common greeting in Lebanon is 'Hi, kefak ca va' which is English, arabic and French. And for a cameleon character with such an interesting and convoluted ethnic background I think picking the softest dynamic tongue with the most intersectionality fits.

Jason: Jason todd speaks Jordanian arabic, Jordanians are the most hilariously creative people in the mid east imo. there are turns of phrase from Jordan that kinda make you pause and blink for a second because damn... okay then. I have never met a Jordanian without a degree in the most creative insults you've ever heard. Jordanian arabic is also very close to stereotypical Levant arabic which still maintaining a lot more of the harsher more guttural sounds that countries like Lebanon and Syria tend to exclude. Jordan also has a huge Bedouin population and I just think he'd match that vibe

Tim: Tims parents were archeologist.. Egyptian. Tim has the heaviest Egyptian accent when he speaks arabic. His parents definitely had him learn it in hopes he'd follow their footsteps. Ja become Ga and he works so damn hard to keep the accent out of his words to try and hide any identifiers and he fails miserably. He also uses it the most out of the kids and he can read and understand MSA fluently unlike Dick and Jason who are fine readers but cannot speak it for the life for them. Tim also does the international students Mix and Match where you sometimes just use a word that's country specific to other countries. Tim doesn't tell Damian he understands it and so Damian has the most intense shock of his life when Tim replies back to his angry arabic muttering.

Damian: So I know that talia studied at the university of Cairo but I feel like Ra's speaks a very old form of arabic so I think Damian code switches quite often. I picture him speaking like a Saudi upper court dialect when he's talking with Ra's and I think talia does the same. But I think Damian is most comfortable somewhere in-between Jordan and UAE arabic with more levant terms of endearment (because of the aforementioned softness and ik talia isn't a soft parent in canon but she is one in my heart so there) and more casual speech following GCC speaking patterns. Tho I think Damian can understand and speak all of the dialects including the less popular ones like Moroccan daraji.

Steph: I have zero evidence and not even an elaboration but if steph was Middle Eastern she'd be Iraqi bc vibes so that's what she speaks fuck you im right. It's definitely on the harsher side tonally but idk she gives the energy of using it and teasing Jason and Dick for using frou-frou arabic. Tho I will absolutely make the argument that she learned Syrian arabic for a friend pre her involvement with the bats.

Also Steph, Dick and Jason do sip and bitch sessions and they disagree on the correct way to make coffee. Jason is absolutely a traditionalist, Dick is a Turkish coffee believer and steph adds way too much cardamom.

also also Jasons favorite poet is Darwish, Tims fave is Al-muttanabbi, Dicks is Gibran (ik he spoke mostly in English but tell me Dick Grayson isn't gonna freak over 'your children are not yours they are children of the world') , Bruces is Qabbani. Steph doesn't like poetry but she has absolutely read memoirs of a woman doctor by nasal el saadawi and loved it

[saintslewis]

❝ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃 | 𝐅���� ❞

pairing: f1 grid (not all) x black fem driver!reader

summary: in which reader takes the f1 pilots to experience her culture and the beautiful country that is South Africa.

warnings: south african slang, cussing, social media environment, mentions of food, borderline chaotic

saint’s team radio 🎀: you have no idea how excited i was to write this. i love my country so so much and to be able to share it with all of you is a blessing. thank you @exotic-iris13 for requesting this! side note, December is in summer so i hope i don’t confuse you! enjoy!

please like, comment and reblog! (i’m watching you)

fc: @/mbbaarrhliii on ig!

tags: @non-stop-imagines @perfecttrashface @mauvecherie-writes @purplelewlew @arshiyuh @yeea-nah @alika-4466 @louvrepool @sheluvsf1

imessage: THE OFFICE 🏎️

y/n: i just got my braids done losers

charlie w a ferrari: but the season’s over, we won’t see it :(

carlito: plus didn’t you already have them done last month?

landinhoooo: no guys december braids usually mean a vacation, so where are you going? 🤨

y/n: firstly, you know wayyyy too much about the braids thing 😭

honey badger: that was oddly specific i have to say, lan

yukibae: yeah that was weird

landinhoooo: wtv 🙄 where are you going, y/n!

y/n: my mother is requesting the presence of all of you so you’re all coming back home with me 🤭

carlito: mi vida, wouldn’t that be too soon? winter break just started

kika’s bf: also how would it work? accommodation, transport, all those things

y/n: are you saying no to an african mother?

lew <3: guys say yes, she’ll show up to your house and force you

alexander!: not to mention it’s summer that side (she kidnapped one of my cats, say yes)

princess george: okay, let’s say we all go. what is going to happen?

y/n: i’m just saying, you haven’t lived if you haven’t never experienced a South African summer

mad max: I don’t know, y/n. just please don’t guilt trip us

mickey schumi: i can already feel her frown from here

y/n: i was going to pay for everything but since none of you want to go, i’m saving money 🤭

landinho: wait

kika’s bf: wait hold on

charlie w a ferrari: why didn’t you say so in the first place?!

honey badger: now that you’ll be our sugar mommy, ofc we’ll all be there

princess george: that clears out so much

y/n: you guys are a bunch of IDIOTS

alexander!: there has to be a catch???

landinho: ALEX SHUT UP WE’RE GOING ON A FREE TRIP

carlito: we’ll even dance to that one music playlist of yours

y/n: all of you have to wear my merch next season and you’ll let me win two races back to back

mad max: now y/n-

y/n: uh oh! looks like max is paying for everything!

charlie w a ferrari: JUST SAY YES

mad max: okay, you’ll win two races and i’ll slow down

princess george: i just did some quick research and y/n, you’re seen as a national treasure??? and lewis is considered Nelson Mandela’s grandchild??

y/n: well, yes! don’t question my country, okay? 🫶🏽

yukibae: yes ma’am 🫡

oscahhh: i went for a run, what did i miss??

landinho: we’re going on a trip and y/n is paying 😝

honey badger: except max, he’s paying for his own things

mad max: i’m not??

y/n: three races and i’ll get you a new console

kika’s bf: CAN I HAVE ONE??

landinho: NOOO I NEED ONE, PLS Y/N

y/n: we all earn millions every race??? get it yourself????

kika’s bf: i’m going to tell kika you’re bullying me

y/n: she’s coming on the trip too along with all the other wags 🤭

yukibae: and where’s YOUR wag, y/n? 🤨

y/n: yuki shhh pls i’ll literally buy you an island

charlie w a ferrari: NUH UH YUKI TELL US

landinho: yuki what do you know

princess george: whoever isn’t y/n’s wag, say so RN

everyone: NOT ME

lew <3: damn

landinho: I KNEW ITTTTTT

honey badger: IT ALL MAKES SENSE NOW AHHH

alexander!: I HAVE TO GO TELL LILY

oscahhh: have you guys never seen them interact in the media pen? it’s like they’ve been married for 27 years

logang: and how do YOU know that

oscahhh: mate, you told me

y/n: 🙄

y/n: go pack for this trip before i shave your eyebrows 🫶🏽

y/n’s instagram story

seen by kehlani, ferrari and 34,282,722 others

-

“There’s no way you got cars for all of us.” George and everyone else really couldn’t believe that the lengths you went through to make this trip as perfect as you could. “Not to mention booking out the Four Seasons!” Carmen interjected, walking next to her boyfriend.

You watched as everyone filed into the Mercedes vans waiting for them on the airport runway where the large jet had landed. You couldn’t believe you got everyone to come to South Africa in the first place but guilt tripping them had worked a charm, complaining that you don’t have a home race and that your mom would be pissed.

Very easy to fool these guys.

The skies of Johannesburg weren’t all too clear but you could tell that it was summer. Deciding to rather catch up with everyone at the hotel a bit later, you used a private exit to the airport so that you could visit your mom and sister before anything else. Plus you knew a big deal would’ve been made if you had announced that you were coming home so posting will do for now.

“Bathong, where are your friends? I thought you’d all come here.” Your mother said whilst setting up the extremely long table in her backyard so you were sat on a pool chair just watching her.

bathong - more of an expression of confusion or shock

“It was going to look suspicious if i came here with all these people with the same vans following each other.” You replied. “I booked the Four Seasons, it should be big enough for all of us.”

“Oh okay, that’s fancy. So where’s your boyfriend?” Your mom asked with a grin on her face that earned a head shake from you.

“Ukuphi uLerai?” Where’s Lerai? (younger sister)

“Usaseskholeni. Unfuna ukuyomlanda?” Your mom replied. She’s still at school. Do you want to go fetch her?

“Yeah, i want to surprise her. So let me go and I’ll see you later when I drop her off.” You stood up, saying goodbyes to her as your mom went about what she doing.

Hopping in one of your various cars that you kept in your mother’s garages, you quickly texted your boyfriend when an idea popped in your head.

imessages!

y/n: do you want to cause a bit of chaos

lew <3: sigh

lew <3: what kind?

y/n: i’ll pick you up rn and we’re going to pick my sister up from school 😝

lew <3: should i be scared?

y/n: slightly, see you in a few 😚

-

To say you caused a bit of chaos would be an understatement. You hadn’t realised that your sister’s school was huge and this whole time, you forgot what you and your boyfriend did for a living. Picture this: a Lamborghini Urus parked outside where many high school kids are obsessed with it, you and Lewis stepping out to call your little sister, kids recognise you two, you apologise to your sister with ice cream.

You end the day off with lounging in the room with your boyfriend, laughing at the reactions of your fans to the news of you being in the country. You had planned this whole visit out, wanting everyone to get their rentals tomorrow morning then taking them everywhere.

yourusername

liked by pierregasly, bellahadid and 937,728 others

yourusername home 🇿🇦

view comments

user there’s no fucking way, YOU’RE BACK??

yourusername and i’m with my FRIENDS 🤭

youryoungersister a facetime would be nice next time 🧍🏽‍♀️

yourusername well, no!

landonorris y/n, what is a kota?

yourusername if you’re up for it, we can get some today

georgerussell okay but what IS it

yourusername DON’T WORRY

georgerussell I’M WORRIED

carlossainz55 you didn’t say it was going to be this hot

charles_leclerc she warned us mate 😭

danielricciardo btw max is still hanging out with that cat he found at breakfast

lilymhe i’m obsessed with this place, i never want to leave

francisca.cgomes you’re still in the hotel room 🫤

alexandrasaintmleux i just googled gold reef city, CAN WE GOOO PLS

alex_albon WHATS THAT

loganseargent IT’S AN AMUSEMENT PARK

user i just drove in the four seasons driveway, guys there are so many cars lined up for them 😭

user she comes to the country when i decide to LEAVE??

dbngogo stfu you’re back? 🥹 come to Konka 🫵🏽

landonorris WHAT’S THAT

dbngogo it’s a nightclub 🤭

sza CAN I JOIN Y’ALL

yourusername ofc bae

lewishamilton there’s a flower bouquet that says Mandela’s grandchild for me 🧍‍♂️

user oh fuck he knows the joke

georgerussell told you

f1 y/n bring back our drivers 😣

yourusername bring back kyalami then we’ll talk

user oop-

-

SOWETO

south western township

Not wanting to waste any time, Y/n scooped up her friends to visit her hometown, where she grew up and dreamed of this very moment.

The convoy of extremely expensive cars that sped through the route to Soweto had caught the attention of many people, including the news that announced your arrival.

Briefing the boys (and the girls) on their menu choices of your favourite foods, they all equally decided that they’ll start training when they get back home. With the food place being right across a park with a large parking lot, it was convenient for you.

Being the host for this whole trip, you went ahead and ordered for everyone, speaking through the hole in the wall to specify orders and paying a hefty price including drinks. You watched as all your friends climbed out of their respective cars, leaning and sitting on the hoods of the cars as they all bonded. The vibrant atmosphere of your home country made everything feel like summertime.

Getting help carrying all that food to the group, everyone took their orders and observed them. “So, amagwinya are fat cakes, they’re very filling. A Kota is a uncut loaf of bread with stuff inside like hot chips, sausages and other things that you can specify for your Kota.” You explained, everyone immediately digging in and their faces said it all.

“And for you, Lew, you can have the fat cakes and the hot chips. I have to say, you’ll be full for the entire day.” You turned to your boyfriend who gave you a kiss before trying the food.

Later that day, dinner at your mother’s was a success, everyone finishing their plates and sharing different stories under the Johannesburg stars.

The next day was filled with fun activities, hitting up the amusement park Gold Reef City then late night karting, the friendship between everyone was growing as smiles never left their faces.

a week later

yourusername

liked by patooward, mclaren and 3,728,912 others

yourusername south africa my baby, it’s been amazing 🇿🇦

view comments

landonorris take me back (we’re checking out of Four Seasons)

danielricciardo and what about your gf that you met? 🤨

landonorris she’s coming to the next race 🫡

maxverstappen33 three wins and that’s it

yourusername do you want me to tell on you to my mom?

maxverstappen33 no 😨

charles_leclerc i need another kota

alexandrasaintmleux we’re actually shaking for one right now

yourusername askies 🤣 sorry

loganseargent never thought i’d ever be an avid lover of amapiano

user what multiverse are we in that Logan, the most american person to ever exist, is saying this

user it’s the South Africa effect baby 😝🇿🇦

lewishamilton can we come here every winter break?

carlossainz55 can we please? all my joy is at Gold Reef City

alex_albon i just want her mother’s cooking again, changed my life

f1 y/n, what did you do to our drivers

yourusername if you add kyalami to the calendar, you’ll know 😚

lilymhe someone gave me a painting of you and i will be hanging it in my home

francisca.cgomes to complete the shrine

landonorris to our Sugar Mother Y/n

yukitsunoda i got all the recipes, i’m ready

yourusername we need 20 kotas stat! 🫵🏽

oscarpiastri even your money looks so cool 😭

user if this is not the greatest representation of our country, i don’t know what it is

mercedesamgf1 can we join next time? 😔

yourusername no

tyla I LOVE YOU

yourusername I LOVE YOUUUU

-

saint’s notes: ahhhhhh hope y’all enjoyed! mwah 😝 i tried but it feels sorta rushed?? idk, let me know

[epickiya722]

Before anyone gets on my case and think I'm jumping on the "Gojo is racist" bandwagon because "I hate Gojo" I'm telling you right now that I'm not saying he's racist. I don't even hate Gojo. In fact, I am a fan.

But I'm not gonna act like that man is so pure or Gege is always have it out for him.

What Gojo said is racist, but more so out of ignorance. And it is not the first time he said something ignorant to Miguel. So the scene in 255 isn't out of nowhere it just feels like it is because some of you probably haven't read the JJK 0 manga. 255 is more so a continuation.

This happens in the manga.

Gojo compares Miguel to a real life kickboxer and comedian, Bobby Ologun. This scene's dialogue is changed in the movie. I don't know why, probably because Bobby has some controversy surrounding him about assault charges in 2020, a year before the JJK 0 movie came out.

Now, before anyone goes "that's not ignorant, that's not racist", shush and take this from a view from a BLACK PERSON.

Bobby Ologun is a popular TV personality in Japan. Gojo sees what how Black people are on television. He grew up in a sheltered household and even after probably never interacted with a Black person until Miguel.

Saying "he's talking like he's Bobby Ologun" is putting is not what you say to a Black person. It's the assumption that Miguel, a Black person, knows this other Black person. It's the "every Black person knows every Black rapper".

And when we don't? It's assumed that Black person isn't a "true Black person" or "not acting Black".

I have had bad experiences with this. People like to act surprised that I'm a full Black person because "Oh my gosh your hair is so curly" and "but you're not ghetto" and "you're so sweet" and "you're so light skinned" and "you like anime". And when I tell them that I'm not mixed or another race they hit me with the "are you sure"? I'm born Black, my parents are both Black. Both of their parents are Black. I am Black, it's not up for debate!

Gojo unintentionally placed Miguel in a box by comparing him to another Black person who just so happens to also be African. I never been to Africa, but I know a Nigerian African isn't the same as Kenyan African. (Miguel is from Kenya.) Just because they're both African Black men doesn't mean Miguel has heard of the guy.

There's no such thing as a Black person "not acting Black". A Black person not displaying the stereotypes you think applies what to "what a Black person is" doesn't make that person any less Black.

They were born Black, that what makes them Black. But that doesn't mean we are all the same. Miguel is right. He isn't special because he's Black. He's special because he is him. This is even more explicit when you remember that jujutsu and curses are common in Japan, but not in other places. Miguel just so happens to be a rare case. It's like how Yuji was able to suppress Sukuna when it's an one in a million chance of survival.

So now the "Gojo is racist" jokes aren't funny? Because some of you were quick to laugh the first time when JJK 0 came out and the Black guy got a combo from your pale skinned fave. So now that the Black guy had to school your favorite on being ignorant, it's not funny? "Gege is trying to create chaos" or maybe you didn't pay attention the first time.

Or maybe you don't like the seeing reality that some of you are like this. Maybe you're that person who is quick to assume every Black person you cross is an athlete. Probably threw a slur or two at a Black person in the JJK fandom (and others) in their inbox.

Could you be upset because you were wrong that Miguel didn't die this chapter as you assumed and he actually showed out on Sukuna and survived? Mad because he got the spotlight? (Like how some of you were so sure Maki died of a Black Flash even though everyone else survived one, but okay.) "Damn it, the Black guy didn't die." Is that how you're feeling?

Some of you are acting as if Gege really dragged out that scene with ten pages or something. It was just a quick scene. And it's not like Gojo didn't apologize and learned from it.

Again, I love Gojo, I do. But let's not act like sometimes he's a little too arrogant and ignorant and he rightfully so should be brought back to reality. He's flawed. He's not some pure person. He grew from how he was as a teenager, but he still has this bad habit of being inconsiderate of how others around him feel.

Take Utahime for example. He constantly calls her weak. She has every damn right to hate his guts. She's not "confused about her feelings" and it's not "Oh my gosh, so romantic". He's an ass and he's disrespectful. He has no reason to call her weak. She has more experience than him given she is older than him.

It was a long time fucking coming anyways.

[emolionsrawr]

buck: did you know columbia currently has a war going on again cocaine hippos?

bobby: *looks up from cooking dinner* what?

hen: what?!

chimney: did you say cocaine hippos?!

eddie: oh i need to hear more

buck: yeah! pablo escobar had exotic animals, when he was gunned down by the police they either died or went to zoo's, apart from the hippos, they were left to fend for themselves, columbia is now starting to sterilise all the hippos they find because they're an invasive spieces

bobby: why didn't they just ship the hippos back to africa when they were relocating the animals to the zoos?

buck: because they were too difficult to transport

eddie: so let's be clear, these hippos aren't actually doped up on coke?

buck: no, not at all

eddie: oh thank fuck that sounds terrifying

hen: yeah i wouldn't want a cocaine bear after me let alone a hippo

buck: oh funny you should mention bears because that happened in chattahoochee-oconee national forest in georgia near the state's border with tennessee there was a bear who stumbled across three duffel bags full of coke that fell out of a overloaded plane and the bear ate all the coke

chimney: what happened to the bear?

buck: died of a drug overdose, the bear was 3-4 years old and weighed 135 pounds

hen: damn, poor bear

[therealslimshakespeare]

Oath to the Spunk Wall

A Dear John💌 stalag flashback fully authored by my brilliant @stylespresleyhearted

Bucky was fucking dying in the stalag.

Figuratively and literally - he could feel life and the will to live seeping out of every pore in his body as they spent day in and day out stuck with no chance of escaping. And Buck, Buck, Buck - Buck who had been his driving force to get here in the first place. They were on completely different ends of the spectrum.

Bucky wanted to act now. He wasn’t sure what the guys were waiting for. Did they think things were going to change? Were the Krauts gonna suddenly start treating them like real fucking people? He didn’t think so. Bucky had abandoned ship, almost killed a pair of kids, had nearly been beaten to death, and tasted the brains of a man who got his head bludgeoned and all of it was feeling unnecessarily unimportant.

The one person he wanted to save the most - Buck - didn’t want to make a move. He didn’t even want to try. And Bucky, he had made a promise before embarking on his mission, a promise to try to live and see the girl of his dreams in her white, frilly, silk sleep set and he had made a promise to himself to get his best friend home safe but none of that was happening. He was stuck. Unmoving. A hollow shell of the man he once was. Imprisoned.

Now Bucky wasn’t an idiot. He could see it in the faces of his guys all around him - the way in which they eyed his every move or were careful with their chosen words when speaking to him like he was a rabid dog who would bite at any given second. Bucky was supposed to be a leader but in light of things he’d become nothing but a burden to the boys who looked up to him. A waste of space and a waste of a bunk if you asked him. He’d be more useful dead. At least then his boys could have his jacket and his beanie and his gloves and blanket and take everything so they could stay warm and alive until the day came. Not that he could voice it. He didn’t want to deal with Buck’s sad eyes or more of Brady’s prayers or DeMarco’s crazy fucking look everytime they locked eyes.

I’m still trying, he thought but had no hope of Julie Jean listening on the other side.

There was no contact between them. Every couple of weeks mail came but none of it was from her. There’d been letters from his momma, of course - his momma was a saint - but while he would die for his mom he suddenly didn’t feel the will to live for her. She would only end up disappointed in him too. Her son was a rake. Useless. Dirty. No marriage, no children.

He was no good to his sisters either. What example was he setting?

His Jeanie was who he ached for and who he missed. She’d been the one keeping him together before here and to have her suddenly ripped away was like cutting off one of his legs and signing him up for a marathon. It was senseless to be without her. For years he hadn’t gone more than a handful of days with no new letter and no new photo. She was real selfless that way.

Africa had made him restless but when he returned there had been two letters and five new photographs waiting. He had mailed out his own explanation the next morning but another letter had already arrived: worried for him. He was important to her and she never made him doubt it. Thoughts of Jeanie helped center him, made breathing feel easier, and tempered his moods but none of it lasted for more than a couple of hours.

John Brady was a good kid. Catholic, brave, and a damn stone in Bucky’s shoe. He was a great leader to his crew, the most even tempered man in the entire 8th Air Force, and a talented pilot. Brady never questioned Bucky, he was always quick to initiate what their Major wanted done and more times than not Bucky caught the young guy watching him. One time Bucky had overheard him mouthing off to new arrivals who had said Bucky was no more than a ‘fun-time. Surely he couldn’t be a good leader.’ Brady hadn’t liked that and only after the new arrivals had left red-faced and close to tears had Bucky whistled to announce his presence.

“You don’t need to waste your breath defending me, Brady,” Bucky had told him, swinging an arm around his lanky shoulders as they exited the officer’s club. “All I need from you is to keep doing what you’re doing up there.”

“Major all due respect - I will never sit back and let someone who don’t know squat about being up there mouth off about you or Major Cleven. How you choose to soldier on, that’s your business, sir.”

Little brother Brady, Buck referred to him as. Bucky’s little brother that is. Apparently it wasn’t news to anyone on base that Brady was always sticking up for him, or popping his collar like him, or implementing rules Egan had set when he was Air Exec. He wasn’t anymore but Brady insisted his way was the correct way and so his rules stayed.

And no, Brady never questioned him but still - the kid was always the first to see through Bucky. Before the mission he was aware Bucky had no intention of returning without Buck and still he let his Major co-pilot. He never questioned any of Bucky’s requests or standard but when he didn’t agree there was always a witty remark or dry look that had Bucky’s face turning red. Like when the kid had been adamant to jump only after Bucky.

Or, more recently, how Brady created The Wall of Hopes and Dreams, - a wall solely for Bucky’s hopes and dreams that had multiple photos of Lana Tierney plastered - and his worry for his Major had him grabbing Bucky’s hand and physically dragging him to the wall.

“Come on now, Major Egan,” he worriedly bit on his lower lip, hands on his thin hips. He wasn’t blind; his superior officer had been far from okay the last couple of days. Lingering too close to the gates. Provoking guards. “We come to the Wall of Hopes and Dreams -”

“ — also known as the Spunk wall — ” Demarco.

“ - present Major John Egan who has come to pledge his promise of life and sanity to his girl, Miss Lana Tierney, also known as A.C.O.R.N.. Major, if you please.”

Bucky sighed. He spared a glance to Buck who was seated at the table also looking resigned to what was about to occur. They all must have been really worried if no one was trying to intercept the filthiness that was gonna be uttered and sworn under God and every man in their cabin.

Bucky shrugged; wasn’t the first time and his men would feel better. Brady did look real worried.

“Julie Jean,” he began, refusing to call her anything but her true name. The name she signed all her letters with. “First and foremost I promise to uphold my promise of life to you. That includes not doing any of the stupid things Buck and Brady warn me against. Under their wise guidance I shall return safely to you.” They should be proud - he barely allowed any sarcasm to seep in.

Buck was still watching, no hint of him shying away yet.

“And what else, Major?” Brady was incessentantly tapping a foot and chewing on a thumbnail.

Bucky felt guilty. He was really doing a number on the poor guy.

“I promise to return home with my own two hands so that I can help you hold your rack and take the ache off your back.”

And there it was. Gale’s blush. But when Bucky turned his head to check, he still hadn’t looked away.

“I promise to remain safe in my entirety and protect my - uhh - little major so that you can assist in keeping him warm and wet for me.”

DeMarco coughed to hide a laugh. The Wall of Hopes and Dreams was something that Brady held strongly about so out of respect for him the guys played along. Even though sometimes trying to contain their laughter ended with choking on their saliva.

“Julie Jean I will uphold my promise to you of keeping you satisfied and full of my spunk - ” DeMarco was having a hard time dealing tonight if his chortles and coughs were anything to go by “ - and give you all those babies I wrote about in my first letter.”

“Jesus, Bucky, the first?!” DeMarco exclaimed, laughing.

Bucky narrowed his eyes at him but Brady’s touch to his elbow reminded him he still had a couple of more oaths before he could walk away.

“I hereby promise to give you that good pounding I mentioned in letter 23, section 2 - so kindly arranged in numerical order by Biddick, may he rest in peace.”

A few of the guys chuckled at the antics but all of them were sure to nod in their agreement. All the men they had lost stayed with them. One way or another - in the sky, in their hearts, where their bunks lay, and they were even brought to the spunk wall.

“What else, Major?” Brady insisted, still on a mission to finish this. All the guys may have found it a joke but Brady was sure it worked. Only a couple of hours but he would take it. Those hours gave his Major hope again so he found this tedious antic worth it because so.

“And I promise to fulfill A.C.O.R.N to the best of my abilities once I’ve returned home -”

“ — maybe she can sit on your face and straighten your huge nose — ” that was Crank jumping in.

“I also promise, Julie Jean, to kick all of these guys asses as soon as we escape this hell hole for making me say all this filthy shit and I will knock any of them out if they even imagine any of this with you.”

All the guys were so happy at the Major getting some of his fight back into him that they didn’t tremble (too much, that is) at the threat. Since her first photo arrived their balls had been under the threat of their Major so it was also nothing new.

“I, Major John Egan, solemnly swear to uphold these promises to the best of my ability by staying alive, staying safe, and all in all, not being a mopey son of a bitch. Thank you.”

He turned with a smile, he couldn’t fight it off any longer and was met with the cheers and hugs of his men.

Brady let out a sigh of relief as the oath was finished. Tomorrow would be a better day.

Buck was still seated at the table but like Bucky figured, he was too prude to make any eye contact with the guys.

“You didn’t stop it,” Bucky shrugged, sliding back into his bunk with an air of faux innocence and ignoring Gale’s glare. He laughs, wholeheartedly.

Turning his back to the guys, he slides his photo from under his pillow. The one of her that he kept on the sole of his shoe for every mission. Of her smiling bright, a shoulder of her gown sliding off, a peak at the goods but not enough to be explicit. She radiated happiness and that’s why he chose it as the one he kept with him.

From his time on German ground, his time in the water and the forced march through town it’d been discolored and wrinkled and the colors had begun to fade into one another but it’s all he had and he refused to give it up.

He could still trace the radiance of her smile. The shape of her hair and the swell of her breasts. She would be a foot shorter than him - possibly not even reach his shoulder - and in his bunk, trying to find sleep Bucky thought of other things instead.

He’d be able to curl her into his chest and wrap his arms around her completely. She could hide in him and feel safe. She was often telling him she had only felt truly safe when he began writing to her. And even though they had never met she had claimed his lap to be her designated seat once they were in each other’s presence.

“We could make room for everyone else,” she was so helpful.

He presses the photo to his nose. Imagining he could smell her. Kiss the pout of her lips or the chub of her cheeks.

“I’m gonna marry you,” he swears, ignoring the chatter of the boys behind him and pressing his lips to her distorted image.

If I make it home is left out because Bucky’s aware that Julie Jean would want no association with the possibility of him not making it back. For her it wasn’t an option.

[maddest-scientist-ms]

Humans had multiple species all over Europe, Asia and Africa, all of which were overtime completely destroyed by our Homo Sapiens superiority.

Homo Sapiens originated in Africa and then spread all over the dirt and iron ball we have the misfortune to call home, all of us no matter the location are the exact same species, species native to Africa.

You know what that means?

We're are tropical animals. Humans are tropical animals.

Even vikings and freaking chukchee are tropical animals.

Like holy crap, we're damn macaw parrots and jaguars living in freaking ice-age-esque climates with like snow and shit we weren't supposed to be around.

If an alien or future biologist looks on us without like the whole context of warm clothes and fire and stuff he would break his skull on the wall trying to understand what the hell is happening and why are hundreds corpses of tropical animals on a freaking Everest.

Damn.

How cool is that.

[bijoumikhawal]

anyway I am going to spoil everyone's fun. The Mummy is a racist movie, it's frustrating that it's popular and no one discusses that, and let me explain why

Whitewashing/brownface/self orientalism. The Carnahan's are meant to be mixed race. Their actors are white. Oded Fehr is white and a significant portion of his career has been playing exotic brown people in media made for white people, specifically while weaponizing the ethnic ambiguity he does have. Imhotep is white- insult to injury, his actor is an Afrikaner! Playing a pre-colonial African character! The only Egyptians played by people who arent white are the sex pest warden, Dr. Bey (also a minor character who dies), and Anck-su-namun. None of their actors are Egyptian.

The portrayal of Egyptian men. The warden and Jonathan are both portrayed as pathetic, weak, morally circumspect, and the warden is a pervert. Imhotep is also a pervert, frankly. The Egyptian public at large- mostly male crowds and male workers- are literally canon fodder and senselessly killed on multiple occasions. They're turned into mindless zombies, with no consideration given to what happens to them afterwards. Did hundreds of people just die? In public? The only two Egyptian men that aren't utterly horrible are Evie's boss, Dr. Bey, and Ardeth.

The portrayal of Egyptian women. The only two we actually hear speak is Evie and Anck-su-namun, both of whom have orientalist tropes applied to them- Evie, when they make her dress "local", and Anck-su-namun with the whole titlating "the pharaoh has me walk around naked and covered in wet body paint so no one can touch me without him knowing" nonsense- similar tropes are applied to Ardeth, frankly, with how his tattoos are portrayed, his ethnic background, etc. They specifically chose tattoos a Western audience would still find sexy (which aren't based on the actual local tattooing traditions). Face veils in early 20th century Egypt didn't really look like that, even the ones you might call flirty, and I find portrayals that make Ancient Egyptian society's overall often greater comfort with bared skin into titillation for the audience pretty offensive, especially as there are currently existing cultures in Africa viewed through lenses like that. It's not merely ahistorical, it's apart of a broader issue with how living people are viewed by others.

This is more of a me thing, other Egyptians may not agree: I think mummies as a horror trope are racist. The key fear to mummy movies is that white people might get punished for disturbing the graves of the honored dead. You are asked to identify with literal colonizers and view the local population as antagonistic (past and present in this case), especially in this movie, which is set before England started pretending it wasn't controlling Egypt (and by the damn way, ask ANY Egyptian when the country got independence and we'll say 1956. Between 22 and 56, England still had explicit control over some of the government, notably foreign relations and military, it used this an excuse to justify control of Sudan, and it was militarily occupying the country, especially the Suez area. When King Farouk tried to make a decision they didn't like, they put his palace under seige. That is not independence. Whoever made the 1922 declaration the first result on Google is manufacturing apologia for imperialism).

[aingeal98]

Steph for the ask game?

three facts about them from my personal headcanons

-The first woman Steph was ever attracted to was Zatanna. She didn't realise this until later on when she was dating Cass and it clicked that it hadn't just been platonic girl crush appreciation

-She did actually die. The body they put in the ground was actually Steph. Due to reality warping from various villains she ended up in Africa with Leslie who admitted that she hadn't actually let Steph die but tried everything and saw her bleed out regardless. They were both highly confused how she was alive again and they never did fully confirm why.

-She has all the autopsy scars and long lasting damage from Black Mask's torture. She used to play the piano but when she came back her fingers didn't stretch the way they used to and the first time she tried it gave her a panic attack.

a reason they suck

They were created and written by Chuck Dixon, which often meant being a part of his shitty conservative propaganda. She was more of a victim than a perpetrator most of the time, but I'd love to have modern Steph reflect on that and be like "Damn that internalized misogyny was kicking my ass sometimes huh."

a reason they are great

What if the entire narrative was stacked against you, what if your writers and editors looked down on you for being a teenage girl and treated you as nothing more than a pawn in their shitty sexist manpain stories. And what if you survived and triumphed and became loved enough to carve your own narrative. What if people have come and gone from the "family" that once excluded you maliciously but you're still here and kicking, a core part of it now. They put you in the Robin uniform as a consolation prize before killing you but you're still here and you're clawing your part in that history with everything you've got. For everyone that'll say Damian is the fourth Robin there's someone who'll reply "Actually that was Stephanie Brown."

a reason I relate to them

Being an isolated teenage girl who feels a deep anger at the injustice of the world and doesn't quite have anywhere to fit in or fully vent that anger? I was literally two bad days away from going out on the street to fight crime when I was a teen. I tend to relate to Cass more because the specific mentality and issues she have resonate strongly, but Steph also has plenty of material for me to dig into.

(what I consider to be) the top tier otp/ot3 for that character

Stephcass. It's gotta be stephcass. I could give a million reasons but I've yelled about this so much on my blog already. They bounce off each other so well, they've got the backstory and angst and complex dynamic while also being funny and cute together. The accidental romantic narrative they created is so damn good it barely needs anything to canonize it at this point.

five things that never happened to that character that I believe should have happened

A proper go at being Robin. An apology from Bruce. A discussion with Tim about what they did wrong and an apology too. A long talk with Cass after she came back from the dead with (you guessed it) an apology from Cass. Getting to talk to preboot Jason about what it means to be a sacrificial lamb to give Batman manpain and hype Tim up as the perfect Robin.

five people that character never fell in love with and why

-Dean. Even if she hadn't gotten pregnant it would have never worked out. He was simply too old and for all Steph hates herself she would have realized it eventually

-Detective Gage, for exactly the same reasons as Dean.

-Jason. He died before she came along and by the time he came back it would never cross either of their minds to be anything but purely platonic. They can bond but neither of them appeal to the other romantically.

-Kyle Mizoguchi. He's sweet and they could be something but unfortunately she's in love with Cass at this point. Like the entirety of Batgirls is just Steph and Cass being in love and not realizing it. Kyle had the wrong timing.

-Dick Grayson. The hypothetical age difference isn't a problem for Steph. But obviously, it's an issue for Dick. If she were ever to fall in love with him in an alternate universe and confess he'd be highly alarmed to find out why she thought things were possible between them. It might actually be nice for Steph to get an understanding ear and a shoulder to cry on, someone to tell her that it's not her fault and those men were wrong, but that's all. For one thing Dick is not a scumbag who creeps on young girls and for another thing that's his little brother's ex. In no universe could this ever be more than a one sided crush.

[kaddyssammlung]

What's a cataclysm and what do I connect with it?!

Bad jokes first: Kataklysm is a damn death-metal band....but I know that not all of you like death-metal. But I do.

Anyway. I like deep diving into rabbit holes. One of which is the great tragedies that happened upon this planet but the collective has forgotten about them.

Or have we?

This type of knowledge I decided to leave out of my lore interpretations but since Vessel, or whoever had these weird dreams, brought this topic up, I have some things to add.

First of all: I do not resonate with everything that I hear. Some things I connect with immediately. It's a deep knowing within me and it gets reactivated. However when it comes to the great cataclysm I have sooooo many questions. I don't remember much and also I'm not sure if I want to look into this further.

Anyway.

Some believe that the last great cataclysm was one of earth's moons "falling" on earth. It burnt soil (which can be seen in the Sahara in Africa...this is not sand what you see there, according to the videos that I watched) and it also caused a giant flood. Not many humans survived this.

You know...

to wasteland when the oceans recede

An ocean recedes shortly before a tsunami. Right?!

Some things....I hear once and I am like: maybe that happened. Maybe not. I really don't know and also that information does not help me right now at all. And then I just don't care about it anymore.

I still don't care about it.

But when I read what, we assume, Vesel wrote then I thought that maybe those dreams were a memory and not a dream.

Since I'm someone who tends to obsess over certain things sometimes, I don't feel like diving deeper into this topic. I nearly lost my mind, or had episodes of stress-related psychosis, when I went deep diving into my first rabbit hole 2010. It was about the financial system btw.

I just wanted you to tell you what “I know”....what I heard. That's all.

Like I said...I have no idea.

[the-volterra-chronicles]

The Orkney Islands, Scotland, October 17, 1953

Demetri had never been more grateful for his inability to feel the cold than right now, standing knee-deep in the frigid waves of the Northern Atlantic. The mission to handle some feral newborns in Scotland had been more tedious than anything and he was thankful for this brief reprieve before he and Felix went home. His friend had decided to go hunting, leaving Demetri alone with his thoughts. The feel of the breeze on his face and the smell of the salt in the air brought near-faded memories of his human life to the forefront of his mind.

The rocking of the deck beneath his feet as he sailed from Greece to Egypt. The sea spray on his lips as he charted the stars from the ship's bow. The roughness of the ropes as he and the first mate tied the sails tighter against the summer gales that almost ripped them from the mast. The heat of the sun on his skin as he helped the merchants unload their wares onto the dock. The drunken laughter of his crew as his captain loudly declared him the best damn navigator in the world and dared everyone nearby to find someone better.

Then there was the sharp pain of Amun’s bite, the molten heat of the venom as it filled his veins, the burning in his heart before it stopped forever. Demetri had thought that being turned would be the most life-changing thing that would ever happen to him until Aro, Felix, and Chelsea (Charmion at the time) approached him with a proposition. It hadn’t been an easy decision but it was easy enough to make him feel guilty for a few decades afterwards.

He had respected Amun, and still did, as both a sire and a mentor but his life in Egypt hadn’t given him what he truly desired, something Amun couldn’t afford to give him: freedom. As a member of the Volturi elite guard, Demetri had seen more of the world than he ever thought possible before he’d been turned. He’d traversed the entire continent of Africa, climbed to the peak of Mount Everest, and became one of the first vampires to explore the New World. And yet he still came back to the ocean every chance he could.

Demetri couldn’t remember much about his mother but he could remember her telling him that he had seawater in his veins when he was a boy. As he stood in the surf, shoes and slacks soaked in salt water, he imagined it seeping through his diamond-hard skin and into his veins. Perhaps then, he could retain a small piece of the calm he felt now, with the sand beneath his feet, Cassiopeia above his head, and the ocean surrounding him. A small moment in time that would live on forever.

[6thofapril1917]

hey tal , hope you're doing well !

for the prompt list may i request #72 for sarie+johnny ?

72. “I will knock you on your ass if you even think about it.”

prompt list

Takes place some time in 1943, before the SAS goes to Europe. Established Sarie/Johnny! Alternate title: Their Love Language is Annoying The Fuck Out Of Each Other

Sarie’s back felt like it was on fire.

Despite her light skin, she hadn’t been sunburned since she was a toddler. It was as if her skin cells managed to catch up to the fact that she was living in the Karoo, not Europe, and decided to stop getting damaged by the sun out of sheer determination. She hadn’t walked away from a childhood under the sun completely unscathed—the constellations of freckles sprayed across her face and body were a testament to that. Still, back home, she’d thought herself safe from the worst of the sun’s wrath.

Now, she was learning the hard way that the sun in South Africa and the sun in the Sahara were two very different beasts.

She was lying flat on her stomach in the long shade of the fortress walls, stripped down to her undershirt and trunks as the men around her—men she thought were her friends, damn it—taunted her in her misery. 

“The invincible Sarie Meyer, laid low by a sunburn,” Riley called out, as if he were announcing a new performer at a particularly boring freak show. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“Scientists had thought it impossible,” Jordan deadpanned, peering at her over his book. “I’ll have to let my colleagues at the Sorbonne know of this shocking new development.”

“A revelation for the ages,” Mike added, passing Sarie a fresh canteen of water. She took it with a grunt of thanks, wincing as the reddened skin on her back pulled.

“You’re all terrible,” Sarie grumbled. “Completely bloody terrible.”

“Who are we calling terrible?” a new voice asked. Sarie glanced up to see Johnny and Reg strolling back into the fortress, rifles slung over their soldiers. Johnny raised his eyebrows when he caught sight of Sarie sprawled out on the ground. “Sarie, what the hell are you doing?”

“You’re woman’s been wounded, Cooper,” Mike drawled. “It seems she’s found the one target she can’t hit—the sun.”

“Count your fucking days, Sadler,” Sarie hissed under her breath. The men’s taunts were bad enough. Johnny was going to be fucking insufferable.

“A sunburn, eh?” Johnny asked, and Sarie could practically hear him struggling not to laugh. “That’s odd. I seem to remember a certain someone making the bold claim that ‘sunburns are for the English.’

“What was it you said to me the last time I was burnt?” he continued. “‘You soutie bastards think you’re the kings of the world, and you can’t even handle a bit of sun!’” Johnny recited.

“Is that meant to be a South African accent?” Sarie asked, laughing in spite of herself. “You sound like an Aussie who’s had one too many drinks.”

“I think it sounds impeccable, thank you very much,” Johnny shot back, feigning offense. He dropped his rifle to the ground and plopped down next to where Sarie was sprawled on the dusty cloth mat. He eyed the sunburn painting her shoulders and upper back with a grimace.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered. “How on earth did this happen?”

“How do you think, genius?” Sarie grumbled. “Went out on my bike. Stayed out too long, I suppose.”

Johnny only hummed in response. She could feel his eyes assessing the damage to her back the same way he assessed a target. She could feel his hand tracing the damaged skin lightly with his fingertips. It was almost hypnotic, and Sarie’s eyelids began to droop which each pass of his hand over her skin.

He was quiet. Too quiet. Then, he chuckled, and suddenly, his fingers were gone. 

Oh, this bloody arsehole.

In a flash, and despite the protests of her aching flesh, Sarie rolled onto her back and grabbed ahold of his wrist, wrenched back in preparation to strike.

“I will knock you on your arse if you even think about it,” she spat.

Johnny batted his eyelashes. “Think about what?” he asked with a smirk.

Sarie scoffed, gesturing to where his wrist was still held firm in her grasp. “Do you need me to spell it out for you, or what?”

“No, I wouldn’t dare of making you do any work,” Johnny said, though he made no move to wrest his hand from her grasp. “Not in your fragile condition.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Sarie muttered, releasing his wrist and swatting him on the cheek before turning back to lay on her front.

“Will do,” Johnny responded, nipping at her palm before she could pull her hand away.

Neither of them moved. Soon enough, Sarie could feel his fingers tracing patterns on her back once more.

[kustas]

talk about those books!!! <— hungry for recommendations

okay anon :)

the first book i've been reading is "People of the lake" by Richard Leakey. it's a book about paleoanthropology in africa! i am reading a french translation dating from 1980, which was very touchingly renamed "those of lake turkana". it describes the finds and research which was done at the time on ancient hominids.

this book is remarkable in two ways to me: one in that it's genuinely well written, something rare in science books - usually, people very knowledgeable about a specific topic spent their time perfecting knowledge, not writing skills, which typically leads to science lit being hard to read. but in this book, the prose is great, with some parts feeling like you're reading some fantasy novel! i actually had to take a break reading it because it was so delicious of an experience i couldn't bring myself to read it at home or at work where i'd constantly get bothered by people and noises... which is why i turned to reading slop instead. but that'll be detailed later.

the second remarkable part ties to being a book written in the 70s. the thing with science is that new discoveries make it nearly certain something you'll find will be made obsolete a few years later. reading a 50yo science book means...many years of modern knowledge, especially in a field like archeology/paleontology where new discoveries can completly change what we think of a given species. but this book handles what it hypothesizes with such care, grace and humility that it has not aged so far. everything is presented openly as "might have been, might not, but wouldn't be wonderful?" which is such a sweet damn way to approach science to me!

now, the slop.

the second book i've been reading is actually bookS because it's a series! is Moorcock's Elric saga, which i only started reading because all the art of the character (and there's lots of it) was so uniquely wildly horny i wanted to know what the deal what. these are very famous among fantasy nerds as foundational to the genre, but not exactly mainstream.

they are mostly short adventure stories, centered around a same main character, who vary in quality. now, i will be open, i won't exactly call these books good - they are very dated for better and worst, and are not written especially well, and shine to me for their creativity that's wild in some given places as well as a constant atmosphere of irony that makes them (more or less intentionally so) hilarious. these books were written by a true hater. and it shows.

the core of these books is the main character, who stands out because he sucks. he's an overdramatic whiny richkid who's constantly running away from responsabilities and getting into deep trouble that's always more or less his fault, you either like it or you don't - i love it. his central gimmick is that he's afflicted with extremely poor health and carries around this fucked up evil sword that allows him to not wither and die the more he kills people. much dramatic conflict ensues, boohoo. it's interesting to see the sheer impact these books had on fantasy, inspiring a lot of more famous media - if it's got dragons and it's a bit edgy, there's a chance it's related. the books might feel a bit derivative to a modern reader because of this, but with a step taken back it's cool to study. i discovered to my immense pain that it's more or less what invented the modern concept of multiverse. deep sigh

where i'm loving these books is in conjunction to witch hat, because both series are fantasy i enjoy but with glaring flaws that balance each other out. i loved WHA for it's logical worldbuilding and interesting side characters (hello boy of URL) as well as its touching attention to real world issues, i hated WHA for being very meanies vs goodies with forced dialog that felt at best condescending and it's inability to address rougher issues because the manga is too nicies. Elric has the most bullshit fairy recess logic happenings, its offensive in the good old proud pulp way and most side characters could be replaced by cardboard cutouts - but it's not afraid to be weird and ugly, the main character feels as convoluted and complex as a real guy would, and the Hater's Edge (tm) and related strangely subtle dark humor cured me from the salt i was feeling at WHA and its fans inability to read between the lines.

i still have to finish them in the meantime if i fully explain the MC we're gonne be there for hours so here's a collection of silly images ive been collecting with my friends that remind us of him instead. cheers

[fandom-lover2]

Deep In The Woods, Something Lingers In The Trees

Chapter Two - Stranger Not Like Me

Word Count - 1470

Chapter One - Epilogue

Chapter Three - Like Tarzan and Jane Do

I growled softly to myself, resisting the urge to fling the guitar across the forest. Instead, I flexed my aching fingers.

Blisters were beginning to form on my left fingers, the pads going red and skin inflamed where I gripped the fret board so tightly, the strings leaving indents in my skin. The tops of my fingers on my right hand were raw, skin rubbed off from my repetitive strumming.

Why the hell was this stupid song so damn hard?! I either messed up going from A flat to the C, or got the A to C, but then fumbled the D.

2 years of guitar lessons for what? I sucked.

I sighed deeply, closing my eyes and letting my head back to fall against the tree I was leaning on. The sunlight above dappled through the leaves, the wind gently rolling through the trees.

Red Woods, the most majestic and largest trees on the entire planet. Some were so old, they were estimated to have seen the rise of human civilization.

All around the forest, birds called out to one another, natures music.

Normally, it provided a good backdrop for my growing skills. Today, it just reminded me of how I will never achieve that level of beauty.

Somewhere near me, something thudded to the ground, but I didn’t react. Probably some kids fucking around, or passing runners.

That’s why I was here to begin with. My step-father ran the trails of the park, taking me with so I could do my own adventures while he ran for 4 hours.

Normally, I brought my guitar to practice in peace. Other times, I would bring a book to read. I should have brought a book.

I opened my eyes again, expecting to find myself still alone in the small clearing.

I wasn’t.

My brain didn’t really have time to register what the hell it was, other than a mass of black.

My first though was a bear, and in my panic I scrambled to stand, my guitar thrown aside. Once standing, I discovered it was something much worse than a bear, a chimpanzee.

The chimp stood on his hind legs, mouth in an almost smile, eyes bright and curious. He wore clothes, a dark blue shirt and jeans. Around his neck, a collar.

I froze, not breathing.

It is unnervingly terrifying staring at something that looks so human, and yet so not.

My mind flooded with memories of stories, chimpanzees killing and eating one another, Trevor or Travis or whatever the hell he was called, wild troops of chimps in Africa stealing human children, ripping them apart limb by limb. My fear of chimpanzees, and all non-human primates in general, was well founded.

I prepared to do something, fight it maybe. Probably run, though that would be the stupidest thing to do.

My body tensed, ready, adrenaline coursing through every nerve.

Then, the chimpanzee opened its mouth and revealed fangs the size of my fingers and the world went dark.

-------

“…ey! Hey, can you hear me?”

I opened my eyes with a sharp inhale, groaning as sunlight burned my eyes.

“What happened?” I mumbled, rolling to my side.

A pair of hands helped me, steadying me as I shifted. “You passed out.”

Below me, dirt and pine needles. Was I still in the Muir Woods? Last thing I remember was playing my guitar and… and then… oh god.

In confirmation, I heard an unhuman huff, almost like a grunt, and looked over comically slow.

Beside the man who had crouched beside me, the ape.

The rational side of my brain reminded me that slow, non-threatening movements would keep me alive the longest. But rationality doesn’t come to you in moments of pure terror.

I shot up, stumbling over tree roots as I scrambled back from the two until my back was firmly pressed against another tree.

“It’s okay! It’s alright. He won’t hurt you.” The man reassured, slowly standing, his hands raised as he put himself between me and the chimp.

“That’s a fucking chimpanzee!” I hissed, remembering not to make eye contact with it.

They stood between me and the path back to the car park.

“You shouldn’t have it as a pet.” I whispered, slowly beginning to edge myself off the tree and towards the other end of the clearing. My heart pounded in my chest, my eyes ringing as body trembled in fear.

“He’s not a pet.” the guy defended.

“Then why’s he got a collar?” I shot back, choosing to ignore commenting on it wearing clothes.

How could people be so stupid as to think wild animals would make good pets?

“Caeser is special.” the man finally spoke, my collar comment having thrown him for a moment.

“That’s what they said about Travis.” I was halfway round, just a few more side-steps and then I’d be…

I’d taken my eyes off the pair, keeping them in my periphery as I focused on not tripping the rest of the way. So I was surprised to hear a guitar being strummed.

My head snapped up, over to the stupid man and the ape. Only, the man wasn’t the one playing my guitar.

The chimpanzee was crouching, my guitar in his hands. He watched his left hand with intense focus, slowly shifting his fingers from cord to cord as he strummed. His placement was perfect, the transition between notes getting smoother and smoother each time.

“How the hell does he know to do that?”

I looked to the man, and he watched the chimp with a mix of surprise and amazement and… pride? I told you, Caeser is special.”

I’d heard of chimps learning sign language and chimps taught to ride bicycles, but this… this was a different ballgame all together.

“You taught him to play guitar?”

Stupidly, without even realizing, I’d taken a few steps forward. A fair distance still separated us, but I wasn’t actively pushing as far away as possible from them.

“No.” the man replied. “He must’ve been watching you.”

I looked up, expecting to find dozens of other apes staring down at me, fangs bared. Suddenly, the huge forest wasn’t so open and warm anymore.

I looked to the chimp again. And with great shame and amazement, realized he was playing the very stanza I had been struggling over for nearly an hour, and he played it as if he’d been doing so his whole life.

“How….?”

I couldn’t finish my thoughts, so lost in the reality of it all. An ape, becoming an expert on guitar in less than a minute, after only watching me. Took a new level of meaning from ‘monkey see, monkey do’.

The ape ran through the progression one more time before looking up, smiling in his apeish way, gibbering to himself. Then, he gestured with his free hand, clearly making signs.

The man turned to me. “He’s asking if he can learn more.”

Of course if it knew how to play guitar, it knew how to sign. But this level of intelligence, being able to mimic from just watching, it wasn’t human. It was… terrifying.

The ape, still looking at me for an answer, held out his right hand, palm up and bowed his head.

“He’s asking your permission.” the man translated.

The ape flicked his eyes to me for a moment, before looking down again.

The guy held out his own hand, intending for me to take it. There was still a good distance between me and them.

For a second, a brief moment, I thought of taking it, letting myself become acquainted to the chimpanzee. But then rationality took over once more and I took a step back.

“No.”

The ape looked up, actually looking hurt.

I took another step back, keeping them in my sights as I back peddled.

The chimp dropped my guitar, standing as he began hooting, hands gesturing again.

I gasped, preparing to run.

“Caeser, stop!” the man called, moving to be between us again, his arms once more raised in a placating gesture.

The ape did as he said, still looking at me as if I’d broken its favorite toy.

The man turned to me again. “It’s ok, really. He won’t hurt you.”

I looked from him to the ape. This would only end in someone getting mauled. For some reason, some stupid reason, I felt bad.

“I’m sorry.” But fear is not something we are supposed to ignore, and being anywhere the ape, no matter how different he seemed to be, terrified me.

I turned, and despite knowing I shouldn’t, I ran.

“What about your guitar!?” he man yelled, over the cries of the ape.

“Keep it!” Imagining the chimp following me, I sprinted through the forest and didn’t stop till I was safely locked in my step-father’s car.

[jacob-blogs]

Today is my day off, so I'm gonna be a bit insufferable, but I need a minute of your time to breakdown random and unrelated popular history.

Culturally we've experienced so much over the years, and social media has made it damn near impossible to keep track of it all. And honestly I just need to try and recap some of it for my own sanity.

16 years ago, California voters approved prop 8 and effectively same-sex marriage. This gave rise to the controversial "No H8" campaign.

Around 14 years ago, a popular campaign was aimed at-risk gay and trans youth. Suicide rates were on the rise, and unfortunately the best that people could come up with at the time was "It Gets Better"

Around 12 years ago, anti-bullying campaigns were in full swing. Unfortunately, the murders of innocent children at Sandy Hook took place in December of that year. This was notably one of the first, if not the first, mass murders via automatic weapon to have occurred in an elementary school in America.

Around 10 years ago, anti-vax sentiment begins to rise in the wake of an ebola outbreak in West Africa, and polio slowly came back into public consciousness. The opponents of vaccinations were loudly proclaiming that "VACCINES CAUSED AUTISM"

8 years ago Donald Trump was elected president of the United States, opposed by Hilary Clinton.

Around 6 years ago the Me-Too movement began, giving a voice to victims of sexual abuse by giving them a space to speak freely about the assaults they survived.

4 years ago, Joe Biden was elected president of the United States, opposed by incumbent Donald Trump amidst the COVID-19 pandemic.

Around 2 years ago, Roe V. Wade was appealed, dismantling nearly 50 years of established legal precedent due to a largely conservative Supreme Court appointed during Trump's first presidency.

And that brings us to today. The writing on the wall indicates that Trump will be reelected president of the United States.

The only real point I want to make with this is that... Culture may change, but history does not. Remember, people fought against what is currently happening in today's landscape, and good people will continue to fight against it. Inversely, people fought to have today's landscape enforced in a political setting, and they will continue to fight for it.

Remember today, remember tomorrow, and most importantly, remember yesterday. Among the deluge of questions asking "How did we get here?" Remember that many experts with no expertise laid the groundwork as a foundation.

[queeranarchism]

"The quote is from Les Damnes de la terre (Wretched of the Earth), and can only be understood in the context of the fuller argument Fanon is making: “Colonialism is not a thinking machine, nor a body endowed with reasoning faculties. It is violence in its natural state, and it will only yield when confronted with greater violence.” No one can deny Fanon’s brilliance or his pioneering and profound understanding of the psychological effects of colonial violence on the colonised and the coloniser (as a psychiatrist, he treated French colonial officers and Algerians alike and found them to suffer similar psychiatric ailments). But the second and more famously quoted part of Fanon’s argument is not comprehensible without the first part, and the first part – especially in the Israeli context – is in fact profoundly wrong. Colonialism, especially settler colonialism – and even more particularly Zionist settler colonialism – is very much a “thinking machine” with very powerful and longstanding logic and rationalities that are the key to its success. Because of this, considering what “a greater violence” would look like and how it can be measured, never mind achieved, is a crucial task for those analysing and fighting colonial violence alike. I have yet to see any plausible scenarios in which Palestinians acquire the means to deploy “far greater violence” vis-a-vis Israel/the Zionist entity for any length of time in any conceivable geostrategic balance of power. Even if Iran (the only major power that supports Palestine in any meaningful way), for example, wanted to deliver heavier weapons to Palestinians, Israel’s control over access points, as well as Egypt’s and Jordan’s, will prevent that from happening. Palestine is not Ukraine, supported by major powers and able to utilise land, water and air corridors to obtain an unending stream of weapons deliveries to fight a much larger and better-armed adversary. Quite the opposite, in fact. More broadly, Palestine today is not Algeria in 1956, which was Fanon’s most important reference point. Nor is Israel France, with a metropole to which settlers can return (unless we consider Tel Aviv the metropole). There will be no long-fought war of independence resulting in the vast majority of Jews leaving à la française a reconquered Palestine. But there are several scenarios that could lead to a redux of the Nakba, as many Israeli politicians are now screaming for. [...]

Indeed, for over 50 years of occupation, and 30 years of the post-Oslo Palestinian “self-rule” rather than “the native cur[ing] himself of colonial neurosis … through force of arms”, what has occurred (as I learned in interviews with therapists at the few mental health centres in Gaza as far back in the later 1990s through 2000s) is the passing on of trauma, with former Fatah prisoners tortured by Israel torturing Hamas members using the same techniques as the Israelis used on them – often screaming at their victims in Hebrew while torturing them in the very same rooms where they were tortured. Hamas has continued this cycle in the two decades of effective control over Gaza. And now we see this with crowds cheering kidnapped, beaten, and murdered Israelis. Whatever catharsis this constitutes, it is not one that will lead to victory over an Israeli society that has been using violence against Palestinians as its own traumatic catharsis for 75 years, in a world that has a very high tolerance for Palestinian civilian casualties, with most people in the West still supporting Israel whenever there is a high level of Israeli Jewish casualties. [...]

Tragically, Fanon died in 1961, a year before Algeria achieved independence. He did not live to see the realities of postcolonial politics in Algeria, or across Africa for that matter, where, as Kenyan novelist and decolonial thinker Ngugi wa Thiong’o has so powerfully showed, leaders of newly independent states almost immediately began treating their peoples in much the same manner as their former colonisers (a phenomenon also experienced with the Palestinian Authority and Hamas since Oslo). Forty years ago, when he was describing this dynamic of postcolonial governance in his groundbreaking prison memoir Wrestling with the Devil: A Prison Memoir, Thiong’o used the term “neocolonial” – not to indicate the continuation of European control by other means, but rather to describe how anticolonial leaders adopted (and adapted) the same brutal and authoritarian techniques of rule as their colonisers to cement and maintain their power; a critique of the “coloniality of power” that is today at the heart of the ever more popular decolonial thought. That coloniality of power fundamentally will never allow for anything approaching actual independence for Palestinians, neither via the neocolonial PA nor with Hamas at the helm. If Palestinians are to defeat Zionist colonialism, it will likely take a much different sort of analysis of its violence and power than Fanon offered three-quarters of a century ago, and it will probably require a paradigm shift in the core concepts of what a nation, freedom and independence are at a moment when the entire world, not just Palestine/Israel, is heading towards conflagration.

read the full article

I really like this column. When western media is mindlessly parroting Israeli propaganda and western far-leftists (myself included) are primarily listing all the evils of the Israeli state to make it clear who the real bad guy of the story is, there's very little practical discussion of what is actually happening and what could come next.