#and a book chapter for my history of communication class

[zitrovee]

College made me evil

i had a comic assignment for my creative writing class but im. not a comic writing guy. a funny one, to be worse. im not funny. thats what i made

portuguese cause i forgor im brazilian and made the comic in english and posted it and then i had to post it again in my actual language wtf

[heroesrest64]

Haunting Heroes

Other parts: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 (there’s also a Yandere Scenario here, but please be careful when reading!)

Chapter 8: In Your Eyes

Chapter summary: It looks like Hyrule has a way for you to see ghosts. Sounds like a fun project while you wait for Time to pop up

You can read the chapter here on ao3

Chapter under the cut :)

“Time is still gone?” Twilight stresses as the clock strikes three. Warriors rubs the back of his neck, and Sky bites at his nails.

“We looked as far as we could, but his range is better than ours. It’s possible he just wandered away, but it’s also possible… They described something like a time slip. Time’s only ever been able to make those during the witching hour.” Sky mumbles, glancing nervously at the polished Ocarina of Time on display on one of your bookcases. He doubts you even recognize the instrument, but you still clean it the same as everything else in your house.

“He wouldn’t… pass on from a time slip. He must just be resting.” Twilight growls, running his hands through his hair. Warriors hums an agreeing sound, setting a hand on his shoulder.

“This is no time to be arguing. The others succeeded in calming our living friend, but they’re still upset by whatever they saw. Unfortunately, we don’t have the answers they need, but we can start working on a way for them to get the answers from Time themself.” Warriors tilts his head towards the wall seperating the office from the living room, just in time for Hyrule to stumble through, quietly corralling the rest of the ghosts into the office.

“Sorry we’re late for the meeting. Is Time back, yet?” Hyrule asks, glancing around, only to deflate at the negative responses he receives in turn.

“We’re discussing how to help them see and communicate with us easier. You said your book had a potion for that, right?” Warriors asks, and Hyrule glances away nervously.

“Well, yes, but… T-they probably wouldn’t want to see us. I mean- we aren’t the prettiest to look at.” Hyrule gestures to himself. When a person becomes a ghost, they look just like how they did when their body passed away. Hyrule, for his part, has a myriad of scratches slowly bleeding down his arms and legs, and lichtenberg scars crawling from his right eye, spreading out and disappearing under his tattered shirt.

Silence fills the room as each hero takes in their own scarred and tattered appearances.

“…It’s true that none of us look how we used to. But I don't think that would matter to our friend. They accepted us as invisible ghosts who could hardly talk. I think they’d be willing to accept us like this, as well.” Warriors whispers, holding his mangled left arm close to his body. Everyone looks away, quiet for a moment.

“If that’s what you think, Warriors. I trust you. I’ll guide them to my book tomorrow.” Hyrule agrees, looking to the simple brown tome placed on one of your shelves. The others mumble their thanks before the meeting is concluded, and everyone disperses to do their own things for the night.

~~

“This is what you wanted me to find?” You ask, pulling a dusty tome off of your shelves. You didn’t even know it was there, much less that it held some sort of significance to your ghostly friend. Regardless, Hyrule flickers happily, and you tote the book over to your desk to begin flipping through it.

The book is pretty nondescript, other than the strange language decorating its pages. It looks like old Hylian, and you end up pulling out a translator to be sure. It’s not one-for-one, and there are notes in the margins written in a completely foreign language. But you’re glad you paid at least some attention in history class, or else you wouldn’t be able to translate the tome at all.

“Are these… spells? Hyrule, were you some sort of mage?” You ask, pulling out a notebook to really start translating the writing you’re looking at. You doubt you’re getting the translations right, but it’s better than nothing.

The lights flicker every now and then, letting you know that Hyrule is still with you. Is he waiting for you to find something? It must be a spell relating to ghosts. Surely there’s not a resurrection spell in here?

A certain page sticks out to you. It claims you can make a potion that lets you see and talk to the dead. This must be why Hyrule wanted you to look inside this book.

“This is what you wanted me to find?” You ask, looking towards the light in the room. One flicker. That’s a yes.

“Haha, I guess you guys must like me if you want me to see you. Are you sure that’s okay? I… I’m just a normal person.” You flinch at your own admittance. It’s unfortunately true. You aren’t some great hero who vanquished evil. You’re a person who just so happened to buy a house without researching why it was so cheap.

For a second, it feels like a hand lightly rests on your shoulder, but the moment is gone before you can process it. Still, you understand the message loud and clear.

“If that’s what you really think, Hyrule. Wanna help me find the ingredients for this? I’ll admit I have no clue what a silent shroom is.”

~~

It takes two days to gather all of the ingredients. Some of them apparently went extinct since whenever the book was made, but Hyrule luckily helps you find substitutes. His notes must be the ones in the margins of the book. Warriors explained that the language was Gaelic, which is also an extinct language.

You’re beginning to think that Hyrule is ancient and probably died naturally of old age.

“So we have to cook these in a cauldron over low heat for two days. Question- would a crockpot work?” You ask, rifling through your cupboard and eventually pulling out an absolutely ancient slow cooker. Apparently it was your grandmas, and your mom eventually passed it down to you.

The lights flicker three times, which is code for ‘I don’t know‘. You figure this potion won’t work anyway, so what’s the harm in trying.

“I’m gonna make it in here. It’s the closest thing I have.” You admit. Silence greets you, and you feel like Hyrule is turning his back on you. Traitor.

The ingredients are dumped in the heavy Mason pot along with some water from the tap. You turn the power on low and just… step back.

Well. You have better stuff to do than watch this potion cook. You shrug with little fanfare and wander to your living room, digging further into Hyrule’s spell book for your nighttime activity.

~~

“Ugh this thing smells awful. Did I burn it or..?” You wonder, waving your hand through the blackened miasma drifting out of your kitchen. You woke up on the first day of your weekend to an awful burning rubber smell and quickly dashed into your kitchen to find the ‘potion’ smoking from its place on your kitchen counters.

Hyrule tells you that, no, you didn’t burn it. And yes, it is safe to consume now. You look at where you think he might be and throw him an alarmed look, completely untrusting of his assurances.

“Hyrule. It looks like something scooped out of a swamp, and it smells even worse. I don’t know if I actually want to drink this.”

Silence is the only answer you get. You suppose even the ghost can’t argue with you, although that fact makes you feel guilty for some reason. It’s not like there’s any other way, really. It’s either this, or be haunted by invisible ghosts for the rest of your life.

So you grab an old mug that you’ve been meaning to get rid of for a while, ladle up the lagoon green substance, and wait for it to cool down (no you are not stalling, stop pushing the cup around the table Wild-)

Eventually, you figure the potion is cool enough and carefully hold it in both of your hands before breathing out a long sigh and throwing the cup back.

The potion is earthy, but not completely unbearable like you thought it would be. Like, you would never just casually drink this stuff, but for a one-time thing, it’s pretty okay.

“Huh. That wasn’t so bad.” You admit, wiping your mouth off before glancing around. You half expect ghosts to start popping up before your very eyes, but no such luck. “Did I make it wrong? Hyrule?” You ask, already reaching for the ghost’s book of magic.

You flip to the page the potion was first noted, flipping through the torn out scratch paper you were using to note your translations. A hand reaches over your shoulder. It’s tinted green, the tips of each finger caked with blood, half-covered by a leather glove that reaches back around behind you. You just about feel your soul leave your body when you look behind you and find a blood stained face, tinged green and smeared with blood. One of his eyes are dead and blind, and the skin around the damaged organ is burnt and shriveled. His working eye twinkles a gorgeous emerald green, and a slight smile plays at the corners of his mouth despite his state of disrepair.

“I couldn’t tell you before, but you actually need to be in contact with the ghost’s anchor to see them,” He speaks, and you let out an unidentifiable sound, mouth hanging open as you take in the ghost before you.

And then something in your mind snaps like a frayed string, and you feel yourself beginning to pass out.

The last thing you hear before the darkness takes hold is Hyrule shouting for someone that you can’t see.

[cyberstudious]

Books for Learning Cybersecurity

I created this post for the Studyblr Masterpost Jam, check out the tag for more cool masterposts from folks in the studyblr community!

I'll admit that I've mostly used online resources and courses so far, but these are the handful of books that I've read and recommend!

Books About Cybersecurity History

The Cuckoo's Egg by Clifford Stoll: the story of how one man noticed an odd error in a computer at UC Berkely and traced it back to an international hacking scheme. a very fun & interesting read.

Cult of the Dead Cow by Joseph Menn: a look into hacker culture and how few people took computer security seriously at the beginning, and an exploration of how cybersecurity often becomes deeply and uncomfortably intertwined with geopolitics.

Books to Learn Cybersecurity

Practical Malware Analysis by Michael Sikorski and Andrew Honig: an oldie but a goodie for getting into malware analysis. I'm currently in the middle of working through this one and having a great time.

Serious Cryptography by Jean-Philippe Aumasson: a detailed guide for understanding the nuts and bolts of cryptography (the 2nd edition is coming out this month, so it might be worth checking out the newer version).

Cybersecurity Foundations Textbooks

Computer Networking: A Top-Down Approach (7th edition) by Kurose & Ross: this was the textbook we used in the computer networks class I took in college - I think this book does a good job of explaining how the internet works and breaking concepts down to the lowest level.

Operating System Concepts (10th edition) by Silberschatz, Galvin, and Gagne: this is the textbook from my operating systems course. This is a good book to go through if you want to learn how a computer Really Works.

Books I Haven't Read (Yet) - But I Know They'll Be Good

Cybersecurity Books from No Starch Press - many books have free chapters posted here that you can read as a preview!

Books by Bruce Schneier - books on society, technology, and cryptography

[embodiedfutures]

Trans Reads is an ambitious project created by and for transgender people to openly access writing related to our communities. We believe education should be free and writing shouldn’t be behind a paywall. Transreads.org provides the opportunity to access, discuss, and distribute texts for free.

If you’re looking for books, chapters, texts, essays, or articles by, for, or about people who transverse or transcend western gender norms, you’re in the right place!

Trans Reads was formed through the work, consulting, and creativity of an anonymous group of trans people of various genders and races around the U.S. involved in organizing, academia, and trans liberation efforts. Trans Reads was launched in 2019 following increasing violence against trans people alongside the lack of accessible resources for trans people to learn about our own community.

There is a serious barrier for most trans people accessing content from our community. Trans people on average have less disposable income, time to read and purchase literature, and knowledge of the available texts. We created Trans Reads to address this problem directly. We offer the largest collection of free trans texts on the internet.

Get Involved:

Trans Reads is almost entirely generated through user content. By uploading, you can help a trans teen in a rural area learn about other girls like her. You could help a trans student who can’t afford a textbook easily pass their class. You can even share your own writing with the world on an easy-to-use platform exclusively for trans content. You can help grow our collection on our upload page. If you are interested in helping us upload texts for our collection, you can reach out on our contact page.

Ethics:

We are faced with the common ethical question about hurting the sales of trans authors. However, the largest ever study on piracy actually found that the piracy of copyrighted books, music, video games, and movies has no effect on sales. In the case of video games, piracy actually helped sales. As far back as 2002, we can see piracy boosting sales of media. Trans Reads strongly encourages you to purchase the books that you enjoy here or find other ways to support the author.

Academic authors rarely – if ever – see income from sales of their books, articles, or chapters. Most want to remove the paywalls withholding their content. Trans Reads is open to collaborating with authors, publishers, and journals on making this a possibility through our website.

History:

In 2014, Leslie Feinberg published the 20th-anniversary edition of Stone Butch Blues, one of the most influential works of transgender literature. The novel was a way for trans, gender nonconforming, and queer people to realize ourselves. It told us we aren’t alone. However, when the publisher went bankrupt, Leslie had to struggle to regain ownership over hir own novel.

“I had to work to recover my rights to Stone Butch Blues. When the first publisher went into Chapter 11 court, I had to spend thousands of dollars of my wages on legal fees to recover the right to this novel… While very ill in Spring 2012, I recovered my rights again.”

Ze didn’t want the book to be released as a film adaptation exploiting hir story for straight fantasies. Ze also used the opportunity to make the book more accessible. First editions shot up into hundreds of dollars. The least expensive print versions are still over $30 on Amazon. This simply isn’t affordable to most queer and trans people. The fight ended with Leslie publishing hir novel on hir website as a PDF, a strategy of reclaiming transgender narratives from greedy publishes by collective ownership of the text.

Trans Reads is dedicated to the memory of Leslie and all those who feel alone. Most individuals don’t have institutional access and cannot afford to pay for texts. Transreads.org allows visitors to effortlessly read texts by, for, or related to trans people online for free as PDFs. Trans Reads is the space where anyone can easily discuss, add, or download trans content.

This project is intended to foster discussion around the current state of learning. We refuse paywalls and withholding education. Trans Reads provides the opportunity to access, discuss, and distribute texts related to our community on its website in a matter of seconds.

Knowledge, learning, and community must be de-commodified for our collective liberation. Take it from Leslie:

“And on the day those paper deeds of ownership are torn up, it won’t matter about protecting Stone Butch Blues anymore from commercial exploitation.”

Authors shouldn’t live in fear of their work being exploited or inaccessible. Trans Reads is just one small part of trans autonomy from corporate publishers. However, it is a necessary step toward engaging with our radical history, politics, and futures.

Click here to upload a text.

[blubberquark]

Why Not Write Cryptography

I learned Python in high school in 2003. This was unusual at the time. We were part of a pilot project, testing new teaching materials. The official syllabus still expected us to use PASCAL. In order to satisfy the requirements, we had to learn PASCAL too, after Python. I don't know if PASCAL is still standard.

Some of the early Python programming lessons focused on cryptography. We didn't really learn anything about cryptography itself then, it was all just toy problems to demonstrate basic programming concepts like loops and recursion. Beginners can easily implement some old, outdated ciphers like Caesar, Vigenère, arbitrary 26-letter substitutions, transpositions, and so on.

The Vigenère cipher will be important. It goes like this: First, in order to work with letters, we assign numbers from 0 to 25 to the 26 letters of the alphabet, so A is 0, B is 1, C is 2 and so on. In the programs we wrote, we had to strip out all punctuation and spaces, write everything in uppercase and use the standard transliteration rules for Ä, Ö, Ü, and ß. That's just the encoding part. Now comes the encryption part. For every letter in the plain text, we add the next letter from the key, modulo 26, round robin style. The key is repeated after we get tot he end. Encrypting "HELLOWORLD" with the key "ABC" yields ["H"+"A", "E"+"B", "L"+"C", "L"+"A", "O"+"B", "W"+"C", "O"+"A", "R"+"B", "L"+"C", "D"+"A"], or "HFNLPYOLND". If this short example didn't click for you, you can look it up on Wikipedia and blame me for explaining it badly.

Then our teacher left in the middle of the school year, and a different one took over. He was unfamiliar with encryption algorithms. He took us through some of the exercises about breaking the Caesar cipher with statistics. Then he proclaimed, based on some back-of-the-envelope calculations, that a Vigenère cipher with a long enough key, with the length unknown to the attacker, is "basically uncrackable". You can't brute-force a 20-letter key, and there are no significant statistical patterns.

I told him this wasn't true. If you re-use a Vigenère key, it's like re-using a one time pad key. At the time I just had read the first chapters of Bruce Schneier's "Applied Cryptography", and some pop history books about cold war spy stuff. I knew about the problem with re-using a one-time pad. A one time pad is the same as if your Vigenère key is as long as the message, so there is no way to make any inferences from one letter of the encrypted message to another letter of the plain text. This is mathematically proven to be completely uncrackable, as long as you use the key only one time, hence the name. Re-use of one-time pads actually happened during the cold war. Spy agencies communicated through number stations and one-time pads, but at some point, the Soviets either killed some of their cryptographers in a purge, or they messed up their book-keeping, and they re-used some of their keys. The Americans could decrypt the messages.

Here is how: If you have message $A$ and message $B$, and you re-use the key $K$, then an attacker can take the encrypted messages $A+K$ and $B+K$, and subtract them. That creates $(A+K) - (B+K) = A - B + K - K = A - B$. If you re-use a one-time pad, the attacker can just filter the key out and calculate the difference between two plaintexts.

My teacher didn't know that. He had done a quick back-of-the-envelope calculation about the time it would take to brute-force a 20 letter key, and the likelihood of accidentally arriving at something that would resemble the distribution of letters in the German language. In his mind, a 20 letter key or longer was impossible to crack. At the time, I wouldn't have known how to calculate that probability.

When I challenged his assertion that it would be "uncrackable", he created two messages that were written in German, and pasted them into the program we had been using in class, with a randomly generated key of undisclosed length. He gave me the encrypted output.

Instead of brute-forcing keys, I decided to apply what I knew about re-using one time pads. I wrote a program that takes some of the most common German words, and added them to sections of $(A-B)$. If a word was equal to a section of $B$, then this would generate a section of $A$. Then I used a large spellchecking dictionary to see if the section of $A$ generated by guessing a section of $B$ contained any valid German words. If yes, it would print the guessed word in $B$, the section of $A$, and the corresponding section of the key. There was only a little bit of key material that was common to multiple results, but that was enough to establish how long they key was. From there, I modified my program so that I could interactively try to guess words and it would decrypt the rest of the text based on my guess. The messages were two articles from the local newspaper.

When I showed the decrypted messages to my teacher the next week, got annoyed, and accused me of cheating. Had I installed a keylogger on his machine? Had I rigged his encryption program to leak key material? Had I exploited the old Python random number generator that isn't really random enough for cryptography (but good enough for games and simulations)?

Then I explained my approach. My teacher insisted that this solution didn't count, because it relied on guessing words. It would never have worked on random numeric data. I was just lucky that the messages were written in a language I speak. I could have cheated by using a search engine to find the newspaper articles on the web.

Now the lesson you should take away from this is not that I am smart and teachers are sore losers.

Lesson one: Everybody can build an encryption scheme or security system that he himself can't defeat. That doesn't mean others can't defeat it. You can also create an secret alphabet to protect your teenage diary from your kid sister. It's not practical to use that as an encryption scheme for banking. Something that works for your diary will in all likelihood be inappropriate for online banking, never mind state secrets. You never know if a teenage diary won't be stolen by a determined thief who thinks it holds the secret to a Bitcoin wallet passphrase, or if someone is re-using his banking password in your online game.

Lesson two: When you build a security system, you often accidentally design around an "intended attack". If you build a lock to be especially pick-proof, a burglar can still kick in the door, or break a window. Or maybe a new variation of the old "slide a piece of paper under the door and push the key through" trick works. Non-security experts are especially susceptible to this. Experts in one domain are often blind to attacks/exploits that make use of a different domain. It's like the physicist who saw a magic show and thought it must be powerful magnets at work, when it was actually invisible ropes.

Lesson three: Sometimes a real world problem is a great toy problem, but the easy and didactic toy solution is a really bad real world solution. Encryption was a fun way to teach programming, not a good way to teach encryption. There are many problems like that, like 3D rendering, Chess AI, and neural networks, where the real-world solution is not just more sophisticated than the toy solution, but a completely different architecture with completely different data structures. My own interactive codebreaking program did not work like modern approaches works either.

Lesson four: Don't roll your own cryptography. Don't even implement a known encryption algorithm. Use a cryptography library. Chances are you are not Bruce Schneier or Dan J Bernstein. It's harder than you thought. Unless you are doing a toy programming project to teach programming, it's not a good idea. If you don't take this advice to heart, a teenager with something to prove, somebody much less knowledgeable but with more time on his hands, might cause you trouble.

[specialagentartemis]

hi artemis! a friend I made during artfight who doesn't have a tumblr account asked me to pass a question on to you!

they're wondering if you know of any good resources for researching more modern history. This is what they were interested in specifically:

"i am trying to think of somewhere i could find information about when cars started appearing in songs and i am absolutely blanking on how i could find things about this

i know the library of congress has a LOT of stuff [and a really good system for filtering the search results] but… i don't even know what i would enter into the search bar sjdhgj. cars?? songs?? the spread of motor vehicles??"

i know this isn't your specific area of expertise but i thought you might still have some thoughts, or be able to point them to someone else who could help. also, they asked me to tell you that you're very cool and they like your posts :) (i concur)

Aww, thanks! <3

Hmm unfortunately, this is not really a topic I know anything about. This is a combination topic/time period I don't study, and a method (corpus analysis) I haven't really done.

But I can talk about how I would go about it, because starting research from scratch is a specialized skill and it is Daunting.

First, I go to Wikipedia on my topic--let's try the Wikipedia page for "Lyrics." The "Academic Study" subheading has no references--pity. Ignoring most of the article text, I scroll down to the references. Scanning them, they're not that helpful, but "Further Reading" suggests Moore, Allan F. (2003). Analyzing Popular Music. That looks potentially useful! File that away.

All right, now I go to academic databases. My own university's library database and JSTOR are my first options. Let's try some keywords--technology in popular music. Hm, no, that's mostly turning back books and articles about the technology used to make and disseminate popular music, not references to technology in the lyrics. Wrong tack. Try technology popular music lyrics. Little bit better--it turns back The Bloomsbury Handbook of Rock Music Research, that sounds promising. The Bloomsbury Encyclopedia of Popular Music of the World, sounds like it could be a useful reference too. Still, this turns back a wide variety of things, none of them about cars. All right, "technology" was too broad a concept. We want to know about cars. Try cars popular music lyrics and automobiles popular music lyrics.

Aha! Here's some good stuff! "Sentiment analysis of popular-music references to automobiles, 1950s to 2010s" (Wu et al. 2022); "Experience economy in the making: Hedonism, play and coolhunting in automotive song lyrics" (Askegaard 2010); Driving Identities: At the Intersection of Popular Music and Automotive Culture (McLeod 2020); "Communicating cars: television, popular music and everyday life" (Alam 2020, a chapter within the book Race, Taste, Class and Cars). Now this is what we're talking about!

And reducing my search terms to cars in popular music, I turned up a book called Popular Music and Automobiles. Jackpot!

Tbh research is trying various keyword strings, and then sifting through a dozen irrelevant result for every relevant one. Identifying relevant-looking books and articles from titles and abstracts is also a skill. JSTOR is good but arbitrarily limited; Google Scholar is pretty good; Library of Congress has records of nearly everything but is in my experience kind of overwhelming unless you know precisely what you're looking for. University library databases are the best, if you have access to any.

However, once you've hit on something specific, the LOC is really, really good in this way: you can go to the page for the book you found--here's "Popular Music and Automobiles"--and then look at the subject tags. Automobiles--Songs and music--History and criticism is its own subject tag! You can see what other books have that subject tag!

... looks like, including Popular Music and Automobiles, it's only four. (and one of those is also McCloud's "Driving Identities," lol.) But, hey. That's two more books about the topic you didn't know about before!

These are the tactics I use when I want to research something new! Hope some of this was helpful.

[schemmentisjacket]

Chapter 2 - Prep Day pt 2

Authors Note: Little something something about non binary queer new teacher coming in, leading to Melissa finding the one.

After moving the couple of boxes from her car, Melissa spent the first hour of her morning unpacking and organising before Ava’s scheduled meet up in the gym.

She found herself distracted somewhat as her door was open and the new teacher had been passing with boxes for Barbara’s classroom down the hall, before taking home in the room directly opposite Melissa’s. They’d also left the door open, so she’d been able to sneak glances over every time she’d needed to go past the doorway.

Glancing over at the clock she could see that it was ten minutes till the meeting so she grabbed her travel mug and wandered across the hall. She lent against the doorway and surveyed the scene for a minute or two.

Charlie was unpacking boxes over by the window, back towards her. They were lifting stacks of books from the boxes, hands that were still gloved carefully lining them up on top of the dresser. Glancing around the room Melissa could see the care and attention of which every new item has been added to the room, ready for the new class.

Melissa rapped her knuckles against the door frame, Charlie jumped slightly as they turned, before grinning, in the same easy crooked way they had this morning.

‘Do we need to get you a bell Miss Schemmenti? Sneaking up on people like that. Though those leather pants seem more cat woman than cat burglar.’

Melissa chuckled throatily, ‘Melissa is just fine, Just wondered if you wanted to grab a drink before the meeting? Ava’s known to go off on a bit of a tangent, might be worth staying caffeinated,’ she waved her cup.

Charlie wandered over, lifting a large travel cup off the desk nearest to Melissa, ‘I’ve had my coffee intake for the day, but I could do with filling this with some fresh water, so I’ll head with you if thats okay. I’ve not been to the teachers lounge since the interview in summer so if you wouldn’t mind giving me the tour.’

‘Sure thing. You might want to re think the coffee though, I’m serious about Ava.’ Melissa commented as they headed down corridor towards the staff room.

‘If I have any more coffee my leg will probably bounce off or annoy you before the meetings over.’

Melissa snorted, ‘I’m sure you won’t be as bad as Janine.’

‘Who’s Janine?’ Charlie asked as they opened the door for Melissa to step into the room.

A blur of colour moved quickly towards them both, ‘Oh my goodness you must be the new fourth grade teacher, I’m Janine Teagues second grade!’

‘You look pretty tall for a second grader,’ Charlie said seriously.

Then cracked ‘Ah, I’m just messing with you. Charlie Flinn, pleased to meet you.’

Janine laughed loudly turning towards a table in front of the window, ‘Jacob come meet Charlie she’s the new teacher this year!’

‘They, Janine,’ Melissa interrupted. ‘Charlies pronouns are they/them,’ she turned towards Charlie to confirm and they nodded, though she clocked their eyebrows were raised in surprise.

They seemed to open their mouth to comment, but were interrupted by the immediate flow of apologies from Janine and the arrival of Jacob.

‘Don’t sweat it,’ Charlie shrugged, ‘Jacob?’ They turned towards the curly haired man before them hand outstretched.

Melissa clocked that the leather gloves they’d had on this morning were still on. She’d assumed they were driving gloves but now she wasn’t so sure.

‘Yes that’s me. That is I. Jacob Hill, he him pronouns. Proud member of the LGBTQI plus community and history buff. Excellent sneakers by the way, Jordan 4s?’

‘3s actually. Lovely to have a fellow out and prouder around here too.’

‘Ah I was close, my ex boyfriend was actually the real sneaker guy, I’m not quite as good. Ah! Finally I might get some traction with doing a pride history month focus,’

Melissa stepped in, ‘Jacob, Janine we just came in for coffee before the meeting, don’t be scaring the new one off. So far their my favourite,’

Barbara glanced up from her crossword at table, she smiled catching what was said and the way Melissa lead Charlie over to the coffee station, Charlie had removed their leather jacket and Melissas hand was resting on their bicep through the forest green hoodie as she guided them away from Janine and Jacob.

Melissa and the new teacher, hmm I gotta keep an eye on this.

‘Melissa never likes the new teachers,’ said Jacob quietly turning to Janine.

Janine turned to Jacob, ‘Did you see the way she stepped in to correct me about their pronouns,’

‘You should really not assume things Janine, you know a few years ago I attended a lgbtqi plus meeting, and..’

Janine tuned out, used to Jacobs long convoluted storytelling.

Charlie filled their large travel bottle with cold water from the tap. ‘Even if I did want a coffee, I didn’t bring a coffee cup in yet,’ they explained to Melissa who was filling their cup from the pot. It had the philly eagles logo on the side.

‘Here I gotta spare, lemme just get it you,’ she opened the cupboard, pulling out a black mug the phrase I’m the Boss Capiche? And a woman with big italian flag coloured sunglasses and hair wrap.

‘I will want it back,’ Melissa threatened lightly hand going to a slightly cocked hip.

‘Yes Ma’am.’

‘Teachers to the gym! I’ma bout to get my introduction on!’ Ava summoned over the PA.

‘Thats our call handsome. Hope you’re ready. Ava is gonna have a field day with you.’ Melissa grinned clinking her mug against the borrowed one.

[thelongestway]

Fictional sociology is hard: electric boogaloo number whatever! It's fun how, even in fiction, you wind up cutting about half of your theoretical chapters and getting rid of your most flowery metaphors. Which is kind of sad, because we all know this one sociologist absolutely would lean into The Magnus Archives references even more than I left in. :P

Chapter 22: Poison

ART helpfully informed me that Greaves was Aspen's cluster name when they were human, so I said, "Yes. Why?"

Thiago dropped his head into his hands and groaned loudly.

"And here I thought I'd finished with the most embarrassing things in my life at least fifteen years ago," he said. "Apparently not. "

"Is there a problem?" ART said.

Thiago sighed and straightened his back.

"I--Not really a problem, no. Not like our imminent attack. It's just--that's not the way people should find out about this sort of thing. I really should be braver and talk to Aspen about it."

"No, you shouldn't. And what sort of thing?" I said.

Thiago opened his mouth, then closed it. Then he sighed again and looked up, like he was looking to ART for confirmation.

"This might not be easy to explain. But the short of it is that they're not on the list."

I remembered how Aspen had skimmed Thiago's file looking for a data point and how they re-read it more carefully later. They hadn't seemed particularly surprised or bothered by what they found.

"Yeah," I said. "And how is that a problem?"

"It's--" Thiago tried talking again and stalled again. Then he got up from his chair and paced like he was in a classroom. That helped him talk. "SecUnit, imagine that you wrote incredibly famous books, and before your departure into space on a Javelin-class ship, you were known all over the world for them. Somehow, you survive the next few hundred years torn away from the greater part of humanity, and then you re-emerge out into the world at large and find--."

He stopped, hugging himself uncomfortably before he started pacing again.

"You find that history has judged you, as it always does, and that it has decided your books were never really that good after all! That your work was only popular because it captured a certain spirit of the age and happened to be published at just the right time! Centuries later, your oh-so-famous books aren't even considered to be good enough to make one of those overwrought literature lists containing everything that your professional community considers to ever have been remotely worthwhile!

"Even worse, because they were so widely published, your books have become the kind of curiosity that clueless show-runners immediately hit upon when they're researching an age gone by and say 'why weren't we given this to read at university? This is so interesting!' And then they go off and use your work to misrepresent the time period entirely. It is, quite frankly, a social scientist's worst nightmare."

Huh. It didn't sound that bad to me.

"Aspen's work is in shows?"

Thiago laughed despite his distress.

"I shouldn't have mentioned that, it derails my point entirely. But yes, a lot of contemporary media makes use of Dr. Greaves' work. Cold Sleep Explorers, of course, and then The Outer Wilderness and even Worldhoppers borrows a lot of the framing. They're not usually credited, which is an abhorrent practice in itself, but if you've read the books, you start to recognize their fingerprints, and they're not uncommon."

I could see ART's interest spiking at the mention of Worldhoppers. Even I found myself a little curious.

"But you know about them. Did you find out from a show?"

"No," Thiago said miserably. "Worse than that. I read about them because I had to do a research methods paper back in the university. I was bored and wanted an exciting topic, so I wrote about the dangers of becoming desensitized to threat alerts when operating under constant pressure. Aspen was… A cautionary tale in one of my textbooks. They were very public about their work, and received a lot of attention about it--including death threats. Which they mostly ignored, as such things are rarely acted on. Things went fine for a time, until a real attack happened and people died."

"Including their sister?"

Thiago lifted his eyebrows in surprise. "Yes, but… How do you know that?"

"Aspen told me they'd gotten her killed. But I don't know the details."

"Well… I wouldn't have put it quite so harshly. They worked in a dangerous and brutal time."

"That's not how they see it. Aspen said they ignored their security's advice, which got their sister killed. Was that in your textbook?"

Because if it was, I wanted to read it.

Thiago frowned.

"The example in the book was more about the inevitable consequences of living under constant non-resolving threat. There is a certain dynamic--when there are too many false alarms, people begin to perceive them as noise and…" He shifted uncomfortably.

"Go on," I said. This was suddenly relevant to my interests.

"It's a long story, and we may be short on time," Thiago said. "Besides… I didn't put my paper on the effective warning ratio and how it changes under different circumstances on your reading list, but if you're interested, I can send it along. That might be faster--and more useful. I wrote it well over twenty years ago, I couldn't give an effective summary right now."

I nodded, and he sent me the file. I scanned it quickly, and--what the actual fuck?

"You didn't mention Aspen tried to kill someone."

Thiago grimaced. "That's why they were in the textbook. It was a memorable anecdote, so it survived the ages. Aspen thought a CEO responsible for the Javelin Program was behind the attack. But instead of trying a normal non-violent approach, they just walked into a business meeting about their books and pulled out a knife. They didn't manage to inflict any real damage, but they tried."

Well, at least now I knew why Aspen bled knife imagery whenever they were agressive. And that I was probably wrong about them using Thiago as bait. Because from all available data Aspen didn't hide behind other people when they were threatened. They attacked directly and personally, using their own hands, or knives, or tendrils, or whatever the fuck else they had available.

Which meant our current situation was weird. Why were they stalling? Hacking someone wasn't nearly as high-stakes as murder, and they obviously weren't averse to breaking into a hostile installation. We were missing something. But what?

There is something about their situation we haven't considered yet, ART agreed on our private channel. Then, aloud: "Interesting. Can you tell us more about their work? Perhaps that will grant us some insight."

"Well… I think their best work isn't actually the books, but an early paper that's brutally critical of the Big Data problem. I even assign it to students from time to time, at least to those stubborn enough to make it through something called Plentiful Leaves and Poisonous Fruit: Against Big Data Approaches. Ancient Arborean metaphor can be difficult, and this paper is written by a young and frustrated author, which shows."

Yeah, I wasn't going to read that. Even to find out whatever the fuck it was Aspen implied about my analytics.

"Give me the short version."

Thiago grinned. "I'll do you better." And he quoted, mimicking Aspen's tone:

"Work conducted via Big Data approaches can be invaluable. Its plentiful leaves often shelter us from such horrors as lack of funding or, less trivially, inappropriate generalizations from a small sample size. But in tending such seeds and letting ourselves rest beneath the resulting boughs, we must remain wary of the poisonous fruit they inevitably bear. The ceaseless watcher learns nothing new from the wretched things it observes sequestered in the Panopticon. Delusional and functionally blind, all it sees are twisted reflections of its own biases, until it drowns in the very bile it has produced."

Thiago looked at my drone and then up at ART's ceiling, waiting for our reaction.

That passage was the opposite of helpful, ART said to me.

But I wasn't so sure. I was getting a weird feeling. Like I was coming up closer on a target.

"What's a Panopticon?"

"An ancient thought experiment," Thiago said. "There are still debates as to who its author is--Foucault or Fukuyama, or even if those two are pseudonyms of one another--sorry. The point is that it's a prison with a single central intelligence that observes the inmates, who don't know whether it sees them or not and whether they will be punished for their actions. Pre-Neocambrian theorists thought the uncertainty was an effective means of control in itself, worse than being under constant known surveillance."

"So like Aspen themselves, because they can see most things on the station. Except they're not a prison."

Thiago hummed, surprised.

"That's… Actually a very interesting question, SecUnit." He said. "Because I'm certain the author of that paper would not want to be a Panopticon. But… Perhaps that is what they have become anyway. I don't know how far their analytical modules reach, but I do know that there are points where getting more data becomes useless at best and detrimental at worst. Not to mention how being under constant surveillance must affect the people in their care. They may not think much about it, being born to the node ships, but I would bet Aspen does."

ART shifted uncomfortably. Yeah. I wasn't liking what I heard either. But now I was getting a picture, and it didn't feel wrong, or terrifying. Just sad.

I got up from my seat.

"I think I need to go talk to them."

"May I offer a suggestion before you do that?" Thiago said.

"Yes."

"Don't go straight for the conversation. Let the insight settle for a bit before you talk. Good old-fashioned cranio-ocular analysis helps with that."

"What the fuck is cranio-ocular analysis?"

Thiago smiled at my drone. "Go onto the station. Find a spot. Sit down. Shut up. Watch."

Shut up and watch, huh.

I could do that.

[coffee-at-annies]

I feel like I should take a page out of @patrichornkissed’s book and start shouting out local charities that are doing work in the area against the current administration. I know most of my followers are only interested in the city through the lens of the sports teams but idk some of us do actually live here.

For those who care about immigration I’ll shout out a couple places:

Casa San Jose is charity that serves the Latino community and operates as a resource center that provides youth programming, ESL classes, and support with legal and immigration proceedings.

City of Asylum Pittsburgh provides sanctuary to artists and writers who are under threats of persecution and death in their home countries. It also provides art education with free community poetry and jazz events.

JFCSPGH (Jewish Family & Community Services Pittsburgh) is a multi-entity organization that provides comprehensive social services for people of all backgrounds including counseling, career development, immigration legal services, and refugee resettling and support. Their career counselors are the people who helped me find my current job after I was laid off due to COVID. Currently there’s a refutation of Tr*mps executive order on their website. You can donate specifically to the cause/entity you most care about if you just want your money going to refugee services.

If you’d like to support queer charities, SistersPGH is a black and trans non-profit serving the southwestern PA community. They’re the ones who organized the non-corporate local pride parade.

Since its black history month, consider donating to a local bail fund. I don’t think I need to explain why bail funds are important, most of us were online during the BLM protests.

If food is your no. 1 charity concern consider donating to the Greater Pittsburgh Community Food Bank or 412 Food Rescue which takes in food that would become waste and connects it with people who are experiencing food insecurity.

If none of these charities appeal to you, consider looking up your own local chapter or local charities. Figure out who is doing the work in your own community and support them.

I would recommend supporting multiple charities in addition to any sports charities in terms of charitable giving and action. The Pittsburgh Penguins Foundation supports a lot of initiatives but it’s mostly focused on youth hockey and education, along with medical issues like cancer research through the Mario Lemieux Foundation. There’s nothing wrong with supporting these charities but it’s not the same as donating directly to black, trans, or immigrant causes directly. The Pens Foundation will likely shoutout and donate a portion of the proceeds to local black charities as part of tonight’s Black Hockey History Game. If you feel moved, consider donating to those charities directly so that they get more money.

[mrscorcoran]

One more secret won't hurt/ Bunny Corcoran x Reader

Chapter 1: Prologue

My first week in Hampden was as eventful as one might expect a first week to be in a relatively small college. Just settling into my new room, trying to make it feel as cozy and comfortable as my room back home and getting to know the people around me.

I came across this place in an unexpected and quite miraculous way. After a tough first year at a local college and a less than ideal home life, I found refuge in the same places I did in highschool, the small libraries downtown. I'd been going to the one near the train station for so long, and read so many of the books already, that I'd befriended the nice old librarian, Miss Davis, and started helping her around as an unofficial volunteer. I'd spend long afternoons after class helping her digitalize old memberships, cross checking which books we had in the system vs on the shelves, and sorting through donation boxes we got on the weekends. It was in one of these boxes that I found an old Hampden College yearbook, full of photos documenting student life and a bit of the school's history, and I completely fell in love with the campus. I asked to bring the yearbook home with me and Miss Davis let me keep it, so I'd crawl under my blankets and stare at the photos for hours, picturing myself in them, chatting along with the old alumni that have long since graduated, rushing under the orange autumn canopies to get from one class to the other. 

After a week of daydreaming, I finally took the plunge and applied for a transfer. Summer could not have gone any slower, my transfer approved after just two weeks, waiting for the moment I could hop on a train and put a few towns between me and the mess I'd created last spring. 

As I set foot on the train station, suitcases in hand, I immediately felt a little lighter. I hugged my mom, stepped into the train and didn't look back. As the train wound its way through Vermont, the landscape unfolded like a living painting, changing with the shifting light. Dense forests of maple, birch, and pine form a thick, vibrant canopy, their leaves shimmering in the breeze.

The town looks exactly as pictured in the yearbook: winding roads surrounded by forests, the trees full of orange leaves as autumn approaches. Downtown is just as picturesque, with buildings and houses that look as old as time. But the best part is the campus itself, so expansive it could be its own separate community, much bigger than it looked in the photos. I couldn’t wait to get settled and start exploring everything—every store and restaurant, every inch of the campus, and every book in the libraries. 

While looking for my room in my assigned dorm, I ran into who’d become my very first friend here, Judy Poovey. "Hey, you look new," she said with a smile, "what's your room number?." Turns out my room is right across the hall from hers, which has been very convenient for our late-night gossip and wine sessions. Judy's from California, and she embodies that laid-back vibe, from her wardrobe choices (completely inappropriate for the chilly Hampden weather) to her energy and free-spirited nature, she instantly lights up any room she enters. She showed me the cool places to hang out, introduced me to some of her other friends, and kept me from getting lost in the maze of buildings that make up our not-so-little college. Our friendship blossomed in that way where opposites attract. 

As much as I enjoyed the contrast between Judy’s vibrant personality and my own, more introverted nature though, I found myself needing quiet corners to escape the overwhelming social life that suddenly surrounded me and recharge my energy. I always had a hard time making friends back home; apparently, all I needed was to be adopted by an extrovert. I tried to blend in and interact with the people who came and went from Judy’s room, but honestly, the only one I truly liked was Judy. Her other friends weren't quite my crowd, so I did my best to avoid them without being outright rude.

My favorite hideout spots for when Judy turned our dorm’s hallways into a party zone with her seemingly endless supply of tequila (courtesy of her older brother, I later found out) included the grass under a tall tree near the big, decrepit looking fountain at the center of campus, the small library near an old building so covered in vines I almost missed it the first time (not the main library near the entrance that was always crawling with students), and a little quiet café that served the foulest donuts you’ll ever taste.

I soon settled into an easy routine: going to my classes in the mornings, doing some homework in the afternoons, hanging out with Judy most nights, watching movies, drinking, and catching up on our very different days. I also made time for my quiet spots to read when I needed alone time. And just like that, I had a new life in Hampden, and with every passing day, my old troubles seemed farther and farther away.

[hoursofreading]

I'm very impressed with what Ferrante managed to do within the constraints of the European novel tradition. We know this is one of the traditions of thought she's interested in because she includes references to it throughout the entire book, and it's no surprise that she does it again in the closing chapters. Nino and Lenu disagree about what kind of writing is impressive or worth studying: Lila and Lenu have privileged the novel, whereas Nino privileges journalism and nonfiction. For him, novels are impractical and change nothing in the world, whereas the girls voraciously consumed them throughout adolescence. This is a gendered dynamic that is associated with the entire history of the European novel: with "the rise of the novel," fiction became more associated with women readers and writers, what it sometimes called the feminization of the novel; men were more associated with nonfiction, and many of them disparaged fiction and derided women for their interest in novels. To hammer that point home, Ferrante has Nino denigrate Don Quixote, widely regarded as the origin of the European novel tradition! And then, to really slam dunk it, she finishes the novel with a wedding scene, the traditional culmination of the European, and especially British, novel (think of Jane Austen, the Bronte sisters, etc.), but with an innovative twist! Whereas "the marriage plot," as it is called, usually has a happy ending in which all social tensions are resolved by the union of lovers and families, Ferrante uses the marriage convention as a way to underscore, highlight, and triple down on the social divisions and brewing conflict that define the neighborhood. Even at the wedding reception, the economic classes and social hierarchies are reinforced in insulting, degrading ways--this is not a fairy tale ending, but a realistic commentary on how even the most unifying rituals are riven with conflict for this community and, perhaps more broadly, the European tradition it is set within

TrueLit Read-Along (My Brilliant Friend – Adolescence: Chapters 46-62) : r/TrueLit

[thenameswinter99]

GET TO KNOW YOUR MUTUALS

Thank you to @whitedarkmoonflower for the tag! 💜

Since the post is very long, answers under the cut

What's the origin of your blog title? Let's open by saying that this was not the nickname I have used from the start. My original nickname was "WinterStorm", a ship name me and my best friend of my time gave between Bucky Barnes/The Winter Soldier and my Marvel OC (her hero name is Sandstorm). This new nick was born because I had to open a League of Legend new account and the WinterStorm option was taken. While randomly pressing keys, I had a sort of stroke of genius, and "thenameswinter" was born. The "99" was added in a second moment, which is my year of birth.

OTP(s) + Shipname OOOFFFF I have lot of them. I'll write down the ones I am most in the mood for at the moment:

CREJACE/JACEGAN (Cregan Stark x Jacaerys Velaryon)

Blame @sylasthegrim for fueling up my obsession with them (and with Cregan).

2. NAGRON (Agron x Nasir; Spartacus)

3. SAMBUCKY (Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes; Marvel)

I occasionally ship them with Steve Rogers together, I love m/m threesome

4. FINTRIC (Finan x Sihtric; The Last Kingdom)

5. MERTHUR (Merlin x Arthur Pendragon; Merlin).

HONOURABLE MENTION: DESTIEL (Dean Winchester x Castiel; Supernatural)

Favorite colour Purple and black.

Favorite game I have lots of favourite videogames. I loved the "The Witcher" trilogy and I can't wait to play the fourth chapter. I also loved the "Devil May Cry" saga, I only have to play the DmC and DMC V. I also enjoyed a lot "God of War" saga and "Assassin's Creed" saga. But the game that will forever be in my heart is "Dragon Age" saga, especially "Dragon Age Origins".

Song stuck in your head

I'm in my sad hours era.

Weirdest habit/trait? When I'm nervous, I tend to rub my palms a lot. I don't know why I still don't have calluses.

Hobbies Reading, drawing, writing, giffing (new), finding some scripts so I can practice with my acting skills.

If you work, what's your profession? Theorically, I work in a graphic and communication agency. Practically, I don't work there as graphic, but more as secretary/call center girl.

If you could have any job you wish, what would it be? Realistically? I still haven't change my mind and I always believe I want to pursuit the acting career, especially in the film industry field. I know it will be a hard path, but every time I watch a movie at home or in theatre I can't help but study actors and at the same time be fascinated by their profession, many times I imagine how I would act in that scene.

Something you're good at I don't know?

Something you're bad at Everything ahahahahah

Something you love Books, music, cinema, theatre, acting, painting, writing.

Something you could talk about for hours off the cuff The history of the film industry and everything connected with it (awards seasons, film festivals, and so on).

Something you hate Being forced in things I don't want to do or in situations I don't want to be.

Something you collect Glass balls - I collect them as a souvenier from my summer vacations.

Something you forget Everything, basically ahahaha

What's your love language? Physical touch, gifs, acts of service.

Favorite movie/show Movie: La La Land Show: The Last Kingdom

Favorite food Pizza.

Favorite animal

What were you like as a child? I was a very shy and quiet child - as I am now, basically. But with less depression, sadness, anxiety attacks and hate for the life and world.

Favourite subject at school? Italian and Latin literature, art, philosophy, history

Least favourite subject Math, science, physics

What's your best character trait? I think I'm good at listening and giving advices.

What's your worst character trait? I am so afraid of hurting people that many times I keep inside what I want to say.

If you could change any detail of your life right now, what would it be? I would not have dropped out of theatre classes.

If you could travel in time, who would you like to meet? I'm torn between Middle Ages and the 19th century.

No pressure tags (if you want to): @sylasthegrim @aneurins-barnard @zaldritzosrose @legitalicat @lunamarvels @errruvande @arcielee @leftoverp1zza @holy3cake @gemini-mama @alexagirlie @ladyaldhelm and whoever sees and wants to do it.

[halfwayessay]

"The People" and Tourist Expansion

"Tourist expansion ruins local life" is not something I fully agree with. In fact, I actually think it can help with promoting and amplifying the history of a certain area. But that isn't what this post is; rather, this little dive through history is to explain why tourism and its subsequent expansion, tramples access, the people's will and free spaces in search of more profit.

This post will mainly base itself off the story of the Portside Park, mentioned in chapter 2 of Blomley's 2004 book "Unsettling The City: Urban Land and The Politics of Property". Whilst its main focus point is gentrification, a topic much more complex and storied than this, I believe the point it makes applies just as well to tourist expansion and its destructive capabilities.

The Portside Park, or as it was known by activits at the time CRAB Park, was a small fenced off park area in an otherwise industrial waterfront district [p.46]. The park, owned by the VPC (Vancouver Port Corporation), was seen by the VPC executives and managers to be a desolate and abandoned place. It was "occupied by weeds, rocks and junk, and desperately polluted with toxic silt" and, as described by one VPC representative, "is not a heavily used park." [both quotes from p.47]. This attitude shows clearly what those, less caring of the people's use of the park, was what led to the clash between commercial interests and protesters observed in the summer of 1984 [see Figure 2.9, p.48]. It was the rage of a people who saw, what they believed to be "'the People's Park'" [p.48], being used for something which was anything but for the people. They wanted a compromise, a space that could be "'noncommercial,' that is as consciously different from other proposals for the land, some of which included private 'improvements.'" [p.48]. These private improvements, most likley refer back to remodelling the park, not for the benefit of the locals, but rather for the tourist and gamblers coming into the area [see p.48-49]. Finally, Blomley notes one last quote by one Dunphy M., "'I think our people would feel uncomfortable with and there would be people uncomfortable with us. If development takes the shape that creates that kind of class difference, it could dillute the community's hold on the park'" [p.48-49]. Blomley furhter expands upon this quote on page 168, mentioning exclusion and access to the park as reasons for the protest and blocakdes to occur when and where they did.

To prove that this concept, of capitalist interests phasing out accessibality in search of more profit, is a global one we must look back at Bugibba; specifically the "Perched Beach" and its current privatization.

Bugibba's beaches have been open since the dawn of their opening. They have been spaces where tourists and locals alike can enjoy a nice breeze, the warm water and access to the ocean. In 2006, when the "Perched Beach" was opened as a tourist attraction, it was promised to always be open: "Once again, we shall ensure that the public area remains just that - public: for the free enjoyment of all'" (Borg, 2024). These words have seemingly gone hollow in the minds of those who stand for the public development of Bugibba. Little public funding has gone to it, grants for the construction of property which only hinders public access to it and little enforcing of their shaky 2006 promise are all issues which have led to recent protest. Quoting the editorial posted just about a month ago, "for decades, the laissez-faire attitude of shoreline preservation has led to illegalities" (Times of Malta, 2024). Capitalist interest once again fail to account for the history of Bugibba, made even worse by the unfortunate fact that Bugibba lacks much history to respect/refer back to, to rally activism (refer back to my previous post, "Bugibba and Young (1983)."

The language, the sentiment which was espoused by those unaware of the Portside Park’s history and culture, is similar to that of those who are privatizing the beaches of Bugibba. This is why Bugibba’s history, the history of why its public and available beaches are a cornerstone in Bugibbian life, is important. It is the language that was used by the people of the Seaport, the people of Bugibba and countless other local peoples who have been victims to the trap of tourist expansion. It is this issue, this rabid need for more guests, more tourism and more money flowing into the companies unaware of the history and people they're trampling over. If they do not care for the history, those who do will make them care; make them aware that "the beaches belong to the people" (Times of Malta, 2024).

Thank you for reading. This was a bit more personal because this issue frustrates me to high hell and I fiugred that it was based on at least something, that being the voices of those subjected to overtourism. As always, sources are below. References: Blomley, N. (2004). Unsettling The City: Urban Land and The Politics of Property. Borg, E. (2024). St Paul’s Bay residents to protest over privatisation of public beaches. Times of Malta. (2024). Editorial: The beaches belong to the people.

[braveclementine]

Chapter 5

Warnings: None, Readers under 18 can read this book. It is solely fluff- nothing sexual

Copyright: I do not own any Wizarding World characters that J.K. Rowling wrote. I do however own Elizabeth Kane (main character) and Trang Nyguen (best friend). There should be no use of these two names without my permission. I also do not condone any copying of this.

.❤️.

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖔𝖔𝖗 𝖜𝖆𝖘 opened immediately by a tall, thin woman wearing emerald-green robes. She was beautiful, in a sense. She had black hair that was pulled up into a tight bun and wore square spectacles pushed tightly up on her nose. Though no one had said her name nor had she introduced herself, I knew that she was Professor McGonagall and could turn into a cat because she's an Animagus. I'm not particularly sure how I knew that but it was the least of my concerns at the moment.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," The man said.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

The man who's name was Hagrid shuffled off to the side, leaving us with Professor McGonagall. I barely knew her and I already admired her greatly. She just gave off that. . .energy I suppose is the closest word.

The doors were opened even wider to show the entrance hall. It was enormous. I think it would've fit our house perhaps twenty-two times inside of it. The décor was much like those of other wizarding places in our communities. The walls lit with flaming torches and marble staircases. We liked flair.

Professor McGonagall led us to a separate chamber hall from the rest of the school. I could hear the older students laughing and talking nearby. I was suddenly conscious of everyone standing much closer together. I found myself once again, next to Hermione, who was bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. Harry was two people over. My stomach turned and my skin tingled with nerves.

He was quite handsome and he looked so much like dad it was ridiculous. Even his black hair was sticking out everywhere just like dad's was in every picture Lupin had of him. He pushed his glasses up on his nose again. I wanted to reach out and touch his shoulder and say, "Hi, I'm Elizabeth Potter", but I refrained from doing so. Now wasn't the time.

"Welcome to Hogwarts." Professor McGonagall said and I tore my attention away from Harry once again. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin." She said the last house with a faint air of distaste. I grinned, I liked her a lot already. "Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn you house points, while any rules-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours."

I was begging inside my head for Gryffindor. I could tell she was the Gryffindor house head. Plus literally my entire family, James, Lily, Remus, and Sirius had been in Gryffindor. I had to be in that house. It was like a need.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting." She paused for a moment to give the words effect. I saw Harry flatten his hair out of the corner of my eyes. "I shall return when we are ready for you, Please wait quietly."

She turned and left the chamber. Hermione started speaking under her breath. At first, I thought it was nonsense and then I realized that she was repeating spells under her breath.

"What are you doing?" I asked her, confused.

"Well I don't know exactly which spells I will need to perform in front of the school so I'm just trying to remember everything that I know." She said nervously.

I laughed quietly. "No, it's nothing like that. They don't expect us to know any magic yet. There's this thing called a sorting hat. We just put it on our head and then it decides which house will be the best fit for us."

"Oh." Hermione said, her shoulders relaxing. "Well that makes it all a bit more better now, doesn't it?"

I nodded. Then several people screamed, making both Hermione and I jump in the air. I looked around in a hurry, sure we were being attacked by a magical beast from the Forbidden Forest.

About twenty or so ghosts had floated through the wall and were arguing with each other. I listened in delight.

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost- I say, what are you all doing here?" Said a ghost with a ruff and tights. Nearly Headless Nick. Now how in the world had I known that?

I mean, of course, my father had told me all about the different ghosts at Hogwarts and Peeves the poltergeist. Perhaps I had remembered more than I thought I had.

Nobody answered. I guess they were all to nervous to talk to ghosts.

"We're about to be sorted." I said, rather calmly for meeting a ghost for the first time, I thought. "We're first years."

People muttered around me. I guess they were shocked that someone had answered. To be fair, I was a little shocked myself. I was normally quite shy.

"Hope to see you all in Hufflepuff." Said a larger ghost, the Fat Friar. "My old house you know."

"Move along now, the Sorting Ceremony's about to start." Professor McGonagall said, marching back into the room. I watched the ghosts float through the walls without saying another word. Hermione was staring at me in awe. I blushed and looked down at the floor.

"Now, form a line." Professor McGonagall said sharply. "And follow me."

Hermione got in line behind the orange haired boy and I got behind her. We walked through the doors into the Great Hall. I felt my cheeks flush red. Everything my father had told me about the Sorting Ceremony hadn't prepared me for the feeling of hundreds of students eyes on me.

I looked up at the ceiling. I heard Hermione whisper in front of me, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History."

I wanted to immediately talk to her about the book. I'd read that book when I was seven and read it multiple times a year. I wanted to know her opinion about everything in it. The legends and myths and history and founders. But I kept my mouth shut.

We stopped in front of the teachers, the Sorting hat sitting on a wooden stool two stairs up. Professor McGonagall was standing to the side with a roll of parchment. All the students in the hall were staring at the hat, and everyone I was standing with was staring at the hat as well. I knew it was about to sing and I waited, amused. I wondered what it sounded like.

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty But don't judge on what you see I'll eat myself if you can find A smarter hat than me. You can keep your bowlers black, Your top hats sleek and tall, For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat And I can cap them all. There's nothing hidden in your head The Sorting Hat can't see, So try me on and I will tell you  Where you ought to be You might belong to Gryffindor,  Where dwell the brave at heart, Their daring, nerve, and chivalry Set Gryffindor apart; You might belong in Hufflepuff, Where they are just and loyal, Those patient Hufflepuffs are true And unafraid of toil; Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw, If you've a ready mind, Where those of wit and learning, Will always find their kind; Or perhaps in Slytherin You'll make your real friends, Those cunning folk use any means To achieve their ends. So put me on! Don't be afraid! And don't get in a flap You're in safe hands (though I have none) For I'm the thinking cap!"

The entire hall burst into applause. It bowed to the four tables and became still again, waiting for students to put it on. I felt a nervous twist in my stomach. I was no longer worried about which house I would be in. Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff- as long as I wasn't in Slytherin. No, now I was worried that the hat would see the images in my head. What would it say? What would it think? Did it matter?

I scanned the table, because I knew I would find the man in the purple turban up there. Indeed, he was sitting next to a tall man with shoulder length-black hair and black eyes. Professor Quirrell. Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. Evil and fake. Talking to Professor Snape. Potions. The person who looked like a villian but was really a hero.

Evil and fake? Villians and heroes? Why had I let those characteristics define Professor Quirrell and Professor Snape? Growing up with a werewolf as a dad had led me to make judgements after knowing the person, not before. So why had I jumped to such hasty conclusions?

I let my thoughts die down as Professor McGonagall opened up the roll of parchment to start calling names.

"Abbot, Hannah!"

A pale, yet pink faced girl with blonde pigtails walked out of line, stumbling over a boy's leg. I heard a small laugh behind me and I spun around to see a pale blond boy standing between two fat boys smirking. I turned back around with a roll of my eyes. Bet he was going to be in Slytherin.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

The table on the right clapped and Hannah went to sit with them. Hannah looked like a nice girl and so did the rest of the Hufflepuff table.

"Bones, Susan!"

I watched a darker haired girl climb up the steps and sit on the stool. The hat fit just over her eyes.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" The hat shouted again.

"Boot, Terry!" A dark haired boy crept out of the line and went to sit on the stool this time.

"RAVENCLAW!" The table on the left clapped and multiple Ravenclaw students shook hands with Terry as he sat down. I wouldn't mind being in that house either. My nerves went down a notch again.

"Brocklehurst, Mandy."

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Brown, Lavender." This was a skinny and tall girl with golden brown curly hair. She had blue eyes and wore a bandana in her hair.

"GRYFFINDOR" The hat shouted. The table on the far left clapped. I looked over to see that table and laughed out-loud, quickly stifling it. Fred and George Weasley were cat-calling.

"Bulstrode, Millicent." A thick, dark girl with stringy black hair was called up. I wrinkled my nose. What was with me today? Perhaps I was sick. Mentally sick. Was that a thing?

"SLYTHERIN." the hat shouted. The last table exploded into cheers. I didn't even look at them. That table wasn't an option for me.

"Crabbe, Vincent."

The thick guy that had been standing next to the pale blond boy pushed past me to get up to the stairs.

"Could've said excuse me." I muttered under my breath so no one could hear me.

"SLYTHERIN."

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin."

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Finnigan, Seamus," A sandy-haired boy walked up calmly to sit on the stool. The hat stayed on his head for nearly a full minute.

"GRYFFINDOR"

"Granger, Hermione."

Her name gave me a start and I watched as Hermione eagerly ran up the steps and grabbed the hat from Professor McGonagall. She jammed it on her head. The Sorting Hat took about twenty seconds to decide that she was going to end up in Gryffindor. For some reason, my heart sank.

"Goyle, Gregory."

The second thick boy stomped up the stairs and sat on the stool. I wondered if his weight would break the stool legs.

"SLYTHERIN"

"Kane, Elizabeth."

My heart leapt into my throat and I walked as calmly as possible up the stone steps and sat down on the stool. The hat was placed on my head and slipped down past my eyes.

There was a small voice that seemed to be talking directly into my ear. "Yes, you are a difficult case, aren't you. You have plenty of courage and you have great talent and smarts. . .hmmm. . . but you're futuristic thoughts. . .that could prove to be a problem."

Futuristic thoughts?

"Yes, those flashes of memories are the future. You should use those smartly and sharpen your skill. I believe you could make a wonderful seer. . .I dearly wish to put you in Gryffindor, but that doesn't seem right."

The Sorting Hat seemed to be talking more to itself than to me. Why not Gryffindor? I thought defiantly. Especially if it's where you believe I belong.

"It all leads back to those futuristic thoughts, Elizabeth Potter, though I never said that Gryffindor was where you belonged." The name gave me a start.

You know who I am? The real me, I mean.

"Of course, I'm the Sorting Hat. I believe that, though you could possibly belong in Gryffindor or Ravenclaw, they are to dangerous for you. So is Slytherin. Like I said, you'll figure it out in due time. Sharpen those skills. . .besides, you were already sorted in Hufflepuff long before you came here."

Before I could even think dismally about Hufflepuff and argue to be in Gryffindor, the sorting hat had shouted. "HUFFLEPUFF!"

I lifted the hat off of my head and handed it to Professor McGonagall. I wondered exactly how long I had sat there. Surely, longer than a minute. Hannah shook my hand as I sat down and Susan Bones smiled at me.

I smiled back, sort of out of it. I didn't notice Neville Longbottom as he tripped over himself on the way to the stool. The hat took forever with Neville as well. But I didn't notice.

Futuristic thoughts? I looked up at the teachers table. Professor Snape was looking down at me. I stared back. Multiple flashes happened in my mind, looking at him. A bloody leg, a flash of him and my mum on a wedding day, and him and Quirrell in the forest.

"Potter, Harry"

I jerked my head towards Harry. Whispers immediately arose through the tables. Hannah and Susan looked wide-eyed at each other. Albus Dumbledore, who had been sitting back in his chair, looking bored, suddenly sat straight up and forward, all eyes on Harry.

Harry had the hat on his head for twenty-three seconds before the hat shouted "GRYFFINDOR"

He received the loudest cheers yet. Fred and George were yelling "We got Potter! We got Potter!" Another red head with glasses, a prefect if that was what his badge was for, shook Harry's hand. I felt like crying. I'd never felt so far away from my brother as I did now. Perhaps because we were in such close proximity and others were meeting him before I was.

"Thomas, Dean." Was a good-looking black boy, much taller than most of the other boys our age. He was sorted into Gryffindor as well. I looked on gloomily.

"Turpin, Lisa."

"RAVENCLAW!"

The red haired boy that Harry had been talking too, Weasley, Ronald, was also sorted into Gryffindor. I supposed the entire family was probably in Gryffindor. I would've been there too, if the stinking Sorting Hat hadn't put me in Hufflepuff. Well. . .no. . .no, maybe it wouldn't have. I was trying to blame the hat for something that wasn't it's fault. If it believed me to be a Hufflepuff. . . wasn't I a Hufflepuff? Why was I fighting this decision so hard?

"Zabini, Blaise." was sorted into Slytherin.

I stared down at my plate. No, this didn't mean anything. After all, the Patil twins had been separated. Parvati was in Gryffindor and Padma was in Ravenclaw. Harry and I could still be brother and sister, even if we were in separate houses and yet. . .

If the sorting hat thought it was dangerous for me to be in the same house with my brother. . . and my parents didn't want anyone to know that I existed. . .then should Harry know? I mean, when exactly were my parents going to show that I was Harry's twin brother? What if I never was meant to be known by anyone except my family. My family that was now only Lupin since Lily and James and Sirius were all gone. . .

And though the decision hurt, that was when I decided not to tell Harry I was his sister. Friends, and that was it if I was lucky. Until I got some sort of sign or learned more about my parents secrets or somehow managed to wear the sorting hat again and find out more, I wouldn't tell anybody about my secret. And that now included Harry.

Dumbledore stood at that moment and I was glad to be torn from my thoughts. Professor Snape was staring at me again and I thought about the vision I'd seen with him and my mum. That certainly wasn't in the future. And it certainly couldn't be possible because my father was James.

"Welcome!" Dumbledore said and I looked away from Professor Snape. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"

I laughed and clapped with the others as food appeared on our table. Now that I was resigned in my decision, I felt that I could relax. . .for the time being anyways. I didn't eat much since I preferred dessert over everything else. But I did eat a small piece of steak while waiting.

Hannah, Susan, Leanne, and I all talked while we ate. All three of them were Half-bloods like me. They were extremely interested to find out I was adopted though I steered clear of names and specific details.

I stopped talking to eat ice cream and a slice of cake. I know, I'm an eleven year old with a sweet tooth. I didn't have any flashes while eating. I wondered if that was the key to not having flashes- Eating.

Eventually the food went away and Dumbledore stood up again. He's going to deliver some strange news, I thought randomly and then wondered if that was just knowing that Dumbledore was sort've eccentric or if I was predicting the future. Perhaps a bit of both.

"Ahem- just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

I noticed that his eyes flashed to the Gryffindor door table and to Fred and George Weasley in particular. Yes, those were my kind of guys.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch."

Maybe next year I would buy a decent broom and try out for the team. Or maybe I would buy the broom if I made the team.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Some people laughed, but I did not. This was serious. A flash happened in my mind and I saw the three-headed dog again. Okay, that was a pretty legitimate reason not to go down that corridor. I would rather not be a dog chew toy. I didn't like dogs. I was scared of them.

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" Dumbledore said, becoming more excited than he had the entire speech. I looked at the other teachers. All except Professor Flitwick, the charms Professor, looked like they'd rather take a sip of Skele-grow which is a disgusting medicine I had to take once at St. Mungo's when I broke my arm doing Muggle ice- skating.

Everyone stood on their feet as words twisted themselves into the air, having erupted from the tip of Dumbledore's wand. I tried numbly to think of how I was going to sing this. I hated singing with a passion (in public)- I was no good at it. I became faintly aware of Professor Snape's' eyes on me again. What was his deal?

The school suddenly started singing and I blushed, still unable to think of a way to sing this song.

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts Teach us something please, Whether we be old and bald or young with scabby knees Our heads could do with filling With some interesting stuff For now they're bare and full of air, Dead flies and bits of fluff, So teach us things worth knowing, Bring back what we've forgot, Just do your best, we'll do the rest, and learn until our brains all rot."

I was never going to forget anything I learned here, I thought, looking up at the ceiling. I was going to learn and I was going to be the smartest witch of my class. I was going to prove something to myself and to everyone else- I just wasn't sure what yet.

Dumbledore clapped loudly when everyone was done singing (The Weasley twins had sung as slowly as possible, almost making me laugh). "Ah music," he said, as he wiped his eyes. I wondered if he was legitimately crying. Like I said- eccentric. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

I followed Susan one our way to our common room. Leading the way was our prefect, Gabriel Truman. We followed him to where the kitchen was. I knew it was behind the fruit painting though no one else gave it a second look. It was disconcerting really, knowing so much about a place I hadn't even spent four hours in.

Gabriel stopped in front of a bunch of barrels and said, "Gather around and look very closely. Our common room is the only one with intruder-repelling devices and unless you fancy smelling like vinegar for a couple days, I suggest you pay attention."

He showed us that we had to pick barrel two from the bottom, middle of the second row, and tap on it in the rhythm of 'Helga Hufflepuff'. He demonstrated it and we all entered the common room. My mouth dropped in surprise.

Even though we couldn't have possibly been on ground floor, there were round windows near the top of the walls that let in light. Of course, it was night now so they weren't lit. Instead, the lamps on tables were lit.

The common room was a large, earthy, round room, with a low ceiling. Everything about the room was circular.

The décor was probably meant to emphasize the earthy-feel of the room. There were many plants hanging or sitting around the room. There was a dancing plant near the window. Ivy crept around the fireplace and on the walls.

The furniture was all yellow and black patterned and was made up of rounded sofas and chairs. They were furnished with copper touchings. The tables were made of pine, oak, and cypress and were also round.

There were two, large round doors on either side of the common room, opposite the entry door. They led to the boy and girl dormitories.

The entire common room gave me a hobbit like feeling. I wondered if this was how J.R.R. Tolkien pictured Frodo Baggins home. Or maybe like a cabin in the middle of the woods.

Gabriel told us to retire to our rooms and I followed the other girls to the large wooden door on the right side of the room.

The other girls got ready for bed immediately and soon, they were all sound asleep in their beds. I didn't go to bed right away, too jittery to try and sleep.

I went to my trunk, pulling out a sheaf of parchment. Lighting a candle, I grabbed my Muggle pen. I wrote a letter to my dad. Perhaps it was the feeling of disappointment, but I wanted him to tell me everything was all right. I just wanted to feel his strong arms around me again. I wanted to hear him call me his daughter- just like the night of the robber.

I wrote quickly:

Dear Dad, I'm not entirely sure how I feel right now. A lot has happened since I got on that train. I keep seeing visions of random stuff. A red stone, a three headed dog, and a bunch of other objects, places or people. Sometimes Harry is in the visions too. The sorting hat could see those visions inside my head and told me that it wasn't safe for me to be in Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, or even Slytherin. He said they were futuristic visions and I needed to hone my skills. He said that being in Hufflepuff was a safe house. I'm not really sure what's going on though. I guess that brings me to my next point: Harry. I don't think I can tell him who I am. My parents obviously thought I should be a secret and the Sorting Hat seems to think so too. He knew my true name- he called me Elizabeth Potter though only I could hear. I also keep seeing visions of Professor Snape which is weird and when I look at the teachers and some of the students, I already know their names even thought I've never met or heard their names before. Do you think that's part of the visions? I'd be lying if I said I was fine. In reality, I'm scared. I mean, I'm going to tough it out- I'm not your daughter for nothing. I do feel like I let you down by not being in Gryffindor but the sorting hat did say that if it wasn't for my visions, I would've ended up there. . .well maybe. He didn't really say that. He just said I could've belonged in Gryffindor. I don't know if that's really the same thing or if I'm just trying to will it to be the same thing. He also said something about me being sorted into Hufflepuff a long time ago. I don't know what he's talking about. I miss you already. I hope you don't get to worried when you read this, I don't want to worry you. Hopefully my classes go well tomorrow. A lot of love, Elizabeth 

⬅️➡️

[black-rabbit-razumikhin]

Raz Reads Les Mis (XXV)

Saint Denis - A Few Pages Of History

At this point France - and Paris especially - feels like its own character in the book

I really enjoy the care Hugo puts in to describing the philosophies, the theories, the structures

And this is about revolutions and their importance and their dreams

And Louis Phillipe is described with a two page long run-on sentence

PSA to all authors, your run-on sentences are capped to a third of the page at the very most, and there only in the most extreme of circumstances

The picture painted of Louis is an interesting one, he feels more bourgeois than monarch

There are a lot of social arguments going on about the state of Paris, France, Europe here and I'm sure some of them deeply matter

I liked the brief overview on socialism, and in general this chapter explains (I feel somewhat accidentally) very well the difference between it, communism and anarchy

A little overview on different secret societies is given

Along with what I'm 85% sure is a recipe for gunpowder

And we can't have a chat about secret societies without bringing in our eight favourite agents of chaos

Enjolras&c. are at their Cafe Musain, holding their public secret meeting

Enjolras wants to spread his political message and assigns the rest of the Friends each a territory

Except Grantaire, who he thinks isn't up for it

Which is where we get the line!

"You don't believe in anything." // "I believe in you."

The second time this book has made me yelp

(Wait, also the Javert entrance - this is the third time)

Grantaire gets so excited about being allowed to help too

He's so great, Enjolras open your eyes, I think you've got some residual class sentiments hanging around

Though I'm not sure it helps Grantaire's case when Enjolras finds him playing with marbles/dice with someone

Question: when Grantaire mentions Prudhomme, does he mean the writer or does he mean Proudhorn? Because from the timeline in my mind, Prudhomme is a bit later than this isn't he? I didn't understand that. And I know the introduction of The Friends was at the end of the chapter and it has overshadowed all the important information before them...but come on. It's The Friends.

[ink-stained-clouds]

hi!! what are some of your favorite readings, books, essays, articles, etc on sociology? i’d love to maybe see what class readings you’re doing

Hi anon!

I have a whole bunch of recommendations, no books, unfortunately. Actually, scratch that, I have one but it's actually a history book! I found it to be sociologically fascinating, though. It's The Origins of the Modern World by Robert B. Marks. It's a really interesting take on decolonizing the study of history and our understanding of how the west became the global superpower

To be honest, I don't know what book chapters I was reading for my theory class, our professor only sent us pdf scans. If you're interested in the philosophic origins of sociology, I am happy to try to hunt down the reference for you. Personally, I'm not a big philosophy fan so I can't speak to how good it was lol

Scholarly articles

Clover, Carol J. 1987. “Her Body, Himself: Gender in the Slasher Film.” Representations, 20: 187-228. doi: https://doi.org/10.2307/2928507.

Sowles, Shaina J., Monique McLeary, Allison Optican, Elizabeth Cahn, Melissa J. Krauss, Ellen E. Fitzsimmons-Craft, Denise E. Wilfley, and Patricia A. Cavazos-Rehg. 2018. “A content analysis of an online pro-eating disorder community on Reddit.” Body Image, 24: 137-144. doi: 10.1016/j.bodyim.2018.01.001.

Berbrier, Mitch. 1999. “Impression Management for the Thinking Racist: A Case Study of Intellectualization as Stigma Transformation in Contemporary White Supremacist Discourse.” The Sociological Quarterly, 40(3): 411-433.

Kwate, Naa Oyo A. 2008. “Fried chicken and fresh apples: Racial segregation as a fundamental cause of fast food density in black neighborhoods.” Health & Place, 14(1): 32-44. doi: https://doi.org/10.1016/j.healthplace.2007.04.001. (I read this one in a class years ago and it's always stuck with me, highly recommend)

Snow, David A. and Leon Anderson. 1987. “Identity Work Among the Homeless: The Verbal Construction and Avowal of Personal Identities.” American Journal of Sociology, 92(6): 1336-1371. Doi: 10.1086/228668. (a really interesting application of identity work, which is one of my favorite sociological frameworks)

West, Candace and Don H. Zimmerman. 1987. “Doing Gender.” Gender and Society, 1(2): 125-151. doi: https://www.jstor.org/stable/189945. (a classic! essential sociological reading, you may have come across it already)

Non-scholarly articles and essays (that are all very sociological in my opinion)

Being an Honorary White Person Doesn't Make Us More Powerful

How the '5-Minute-Face' Became the $5,000 Face

Why We Should Talk About What Kyrsten Sinema Is Wearing (Tressie McMillan Cottom is a phenomenal sociologist! I recommend all her writing)

Selfies, Surgeries, And Self-Loathing: Inside the Facetune Epidemic

“ain’t i a woman?” on the irony of trans-exclusion by black and african feminists (one of my personal favorites)

Poor People Deserve To Taste Something Other Than Shame (I return to this one often)

Violent Delights (a really interesting commentary on the cultural fascination with true crime)

Podcasts

Sage Sociology

Give Theory a Chance

Maintenance Phase (not technically sociology but very sociological in my opinion)

Unfortunately, I don't really have any books to recommend but if anyone else does I'd love to get some recs too!

I also try to post a round-up of all my reads under my monthly reads tag if you're looking for more suggestions, though it seems I haven't been particularly consistent ope

Thank you for the ask, anon. It was fun going through my notes and finding all these!! Please feel free to reach out with any recommendations of your own :)