#Brothers Township

[punkbarbarian]

a family reunion, from fistfight to cigarette

up the wolves, the mountain goats // the elektra complex, joan tierney // all about love, bell hooks // on earth we're briefly gorgeous, ocean vuong // the wee free men, terry pratchett // you're gonna go far, noah kahan // brother of mine, jun miresa // wild geese, mary oliver // lost in my mind, the head and the heart

[image id: 9 screenshots of text on white backgrounds. 1: "[chorus] our mother has been absent ever since we founded rome / but there's gonna be a party when the wolf comes home" 2: "ORESTES: how could you recognize me after all these years? / ELEKTRA: what a stupid question. i was born knowing you." 3: "we can never go back. i know that now. we can go forward. we can find the love our hearts long for, but not until we go grief about the love we lost long ago, when we were little and had no voice to speak the heart's longing." 4: "you realize, at last, that you can change without disappearing, that all you had to do was wait until the storm passes over you and you find that--yes--your name is still attached to a living thing." 5: "he said it was better to belong where you don't belong than not to belong where you used to belong, remembering when you used to belong there." 6: "we ain't angry at you, love / you're the greatest thing we've lost / the birds will still sing / your folks will still fight / the boards will still creak / the leaves will still die" 7: "oh brother of mine, we're no longer alike / though you're still the same dear brother of mine" 8: "you do not have to walk on your knees / for a hundred miles in the desert repenting. / you only have to let the soft animal of your body / love what it loves. / tell me about despair, yours, and i will tell you mine. / meanwhile the world goes on." 9: "won't you tell me, my brother? / 'cause there are stars up above / we can start moving forward." /end ID]

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"Demand for Tim Buck as a Witness, Forces Judge to Postpone Joe Derry's Trial Till March," The Young Worker. December 18, 1933. Page 1. --- Toronto, Dec. 13. - The trial of Joe Derry will be postponed until March, in order that Tim Buck, Secretary of the Communist Party may be brought from Kingston Penitentiary as a defense witness, Judge O'Connell ruled today.

Joe Derry, arrested last April for speaking at an anti-war meeting in York Township is charged with being a member of an unlawful association, namely the Young Communist League of Canada. The threat to outlaw the Young Communist League must be answered by an increased activity in our ranks, by mass recruiting of young workers into the ranks of the Young Communist League.

[pittsburghbeautiful]

Primanti's : Pittsburgh's Sandwich Shop

Primanti Brothers: Pittsburgh’s Iconic Sandwich Primanti Bros., also known as Primanti’s, is a distinguished chain of sandwich shops that have marked their territory across the eastern United States. With its roots deeply embedded in Pittsburgh since 1933, Primanti’s has evolved into a cultural symbol of the region. The restaurant, renowned for its unique sandwiches, consists of grilled meat,…

[apollohears]

DEMO. ( TBD ) ✸ ROMANCES. ✸ PLAYLISTS.

last updated: coming soon !

Step into the shadows of Day of Dusk, a mesmerizing blend of dark fantasy, horror, and romance. Drawing inspiration from the chilling folklore of the Brothers Grimm and the adrenaline-fueled film "Hansel & Gretel: Witch Hunters," this interactive novel beckons you into a world where mysteries lurk in every corner and romance dances with danger.

In Day of Dusk, the line between magic and malevolence blurs, and you, the main protagonist, hold the key to unraveling its secrets. Will you dare to navigate the twisted paths where witches, witch hunters, and supernatural entities collide?

The choice is yours, but be warned: in the shadows of dusk, nothing is as it seems.

In the heart of a medieval fantasy realm lies "Day of Dusk," a tale woven with threads of mystery and the macabre. Journey alongside a band of young mercenaries, masters of the dark art of witch hunting, as they navigate a world teeming with secrets and shadows.

Their journey begins in the tainted township of Ruel-Mizu, where whispers of many vanished children echo through the fog-choked streets. Tasked with unraveling this enigma, your group treads a path fraught with peril and the weight of history's darkest deeds.

As you delve deeper into the town's grim past, you'll confront not only witches of formidable power but also otherworldly entities lurking in the shadows. Along the way, unexpected allies may emerge, and the bonds of friendship may blossom into something more.

Yet every choice carries weight in this twisted tale of power and love. Betrayal lurks around every corner, and the line between ally and enemy blurs in the gloom. Will you sacrifice everything for the truth, side with who you least expect it, save the town for good or succumb to the allure of forbidden romance?

In "Day of Dusk," the fate of worlds hangs in the balance, and only you hold the key to unlocking its secrets.

How far will you go to uncover the truth?

This game is a work of fiction; content warnings include, but are not limited to, graphic death, depictions of blood and gore, medieval violence, body horror, explicit language, depression, suicide, references to assault, grooming, mental and physical abuse, sexually suggestive themes, and drug and alcohol use. This story is intended for mature +17 audiences; reader discretion is advised.

STORY FEATURES :

Step into the shoes of a diverse protagonist, embracing your identity as male, female, non-binary, or anywhere along the gender spectrum. Explore the rich tapestry of human sexuality, navigating relationships and attractions as a gay, straight, bisexual, asexual, or aromantic individual. Your journey is uniquely yours, shaped by your experiences and choices as you carve out your place in the world.

Embark on a journey of discovery and connection as you navigate the complex web of relationships in a world filled with intrigue and danger. In the end, it is through these connections—friendships forged in fire, love born from adversity—that you might find the true meaning of your existence and the strength to face whatever challenges lie ahead.

Have your name written in history tales to come, become a hero beacon of hope, or become a feared figure among the community.

Confide in the unrevealed troubles that settle the mysterious past of your royal company's path to break tradition—or steal the heir's power to the throne for your own.

Learn the dark truth about the horrors that lie concealing just how far some would go to great lengths in order to create life.

Forge the future of a community and companions lives with the supporting changes and challenges schemed upon you and all of those who you know or love.

THE RO CHARACTERS :

Each love interest will have their own route which you will get to choose from at the end of the common route. The four romance options in this game depend purely on the readers preference which include: a man, a woman, one you can choose between their presenting gender and a ç̸̤̞̟̏̀̄̔̚r̷̛̟͕͙̼͚̼̓̒̑͝͠ͅy̷̛͉̭͙̿̒̆̈́́͊͗̅̈̀p̶̟͎̩̩͕̭̀̍̅́͛̚ţ̵̺̬̭̪͂̊̑̋̽̚͝͝ì̴̠̪͊͐̿͊̽̍͘͜͝͠c̴̗͉̭̖͕͕̐̔̾̂͘͝ͅ ̴͓͉͚͔̬͓̩̜͒̂͋́b̶̘̽̔̃̀͂̒̕͝e̷̡̡̫̮̹̻̰̺̖͋̿͂̀͑̈́̌̕̚͝ì̵͚̤͗ͅn̸̫̎̋́ǧ̶̡̳̥̾̚ͅ.̵̧̛̩̯̹̦̊̎̈́̕͝

Silas/Sophia Amon — the needling best friend and a member of your witch hunting team. Forge a deeper friendship and uncover the true meaning of loyalty with your brash yet devoted childhood best friend, whose charming demeanor hides on top of another layer of emotion.

"I'll be the bad guy if it means keeping us alive. Someone has to make the tough calls around here."

Pavlos Norlenbourne  — the neglected forsaken naive royal with a roaring secret. Draw close to a haunted prince, haunted by the shadows of his tragic upbringing, and unravel the mysteries that surround him as you delve into the depths of his troubled soul.��

"In a world where power is everything, I'm just a pretty pawn in their game. But I'll make my own moves, carve my own path."

Annette Meadowcroft — the obsessive poet with a firing spirit who refuses to be tamed. Uncover the hidden depths of a secret poet, whose words hold the key to unlocking the secrets of the heart. Join her on a journey of self-discovery as she seeks to break free from the constraints of society and embrace the beauty of the world around her.

"The ink flows from my pen like a river of defiance, writing my own narrative in a world that seeks to silence women like me."

Rune — the callow knight who isn't very fond of small talk with a foreboding origin. Dare to tread the path of a cryptic made being, grappling with questions of identity and purpose as they navigate a world that sees them as little more than a weapon. 

"If you have the audacity to think that I am some sorrowful god, then the pain of my fraud in human appearance will be all the more agonizing."

Depending on your play style, you have the ability to create, shape and destroy numerous familial, romantic, platonic, professional and community relationships with a full cast of characters whose genders and personalities vary. 

✸ Dedicated to all the hopeless romance and fantasy fans who are too engrossed in their books to talk and too shy to write, to my momanager Kass, who always likes to keep things real.

[d20-lesbian]

AFTER AN OVERWHELMING WAVE OF SUPPORT AND ENCOURAGEMENT, I'VE DECIDED TO POST THE WILL WOOD ESSAY!!!! it's below the break !!!!

I would like to really quickly state though that this essay is my property, I put a lot of time and effort into this, so please don't claim it as your own !!!! thank you <33

I will be analysing Will Wood’s song ‘Suburbia Overture / Greetings from Marybell Township! / (Vampire) Culture / Love Me, Normally’. which, for simplicity, most fans refer to as simply ‘Suburbia Overture’. This song is the first on his first solo album entitled ‘The Normal Album’, which came out in July 2020.

This song, in the most general possible terms, is a criticism of modern suburban life, how it is advertised as “the perfect life”, and how this advertising is incredibly false unless you fit the picture perfect standard that these facets of society seem to require.

The song itself is split up into 3 distinct sections, "Greetings from The Marybell Township!", “(Vampire) Culture” and “Love Me, Normally”. I'll be tackling each section one at a time in order to properly break down what each means, what different analogies they use, how they all relate to each other and the intended end result of the song and the message it intends to convey.

Let's begin with 'Greetings from The Marybell Township!'.

This section of the song uses a lot of analogies that compare suburban life to a warzone, the first line of this section being “white picket fences, barbed wire and trenches”. This section also focuses heavily on the concept of the nuclear family, and it often literalises the term and uses analogies based around radiation and nuclear warfare. Such analogies can be found in lines such as “the snap crackle pop of the Geiger, camouflage billboards for lead lined Brookes Brothers”. Now there's a couple of terms that require definitions in this line. The first of course being “the Geiger”. A Geiger counter, which is what this lyric is referring to, is a tool used to measure levels of harmful radiation. This, paired with the concept of billboards advertising “lead-lined Brookes Brothers” when lead is a material used to deflect radiation, and the knowledge that ‘Brookes Brothers’ is an American vintage style clothing brand, this line really paints a picture of a seemingly post apocalyptic/post nuclear war but still consumerist and capitalistic suburban society. The last line in that verse is “buy now or die”, which ties back to the concept of safety equipment being advertised on billboards, while residents of this town have no choice but to buy the products. This all relates back to the hyperconsumerism that plagues our society, and runs particularly rampant in middle to upper middle class neighbourhoods. The very same neighbourhoods that are often referred to as “suburban”

In the second verse of this section there are a lot of hard hitting lyrics that to me really show that this perfect idealised life is far from perfect or even good, so we will work through them one by one because I feel that they all deserve proper analysis.

The first line that i want to point out from that verse is the line “takes a village to fake a whole culture” which is clearly a rip off of the phrase “it takes a village [to raise a child]” but it also references the fact that usually suburban towns are incredibly monotonous in both residents and architecture, and so it takes the collective effort of the entire population of the town to pretend that there is an actual culture to it.

The next few lines I'll speak on all come in quick succession of one another, essentially blending them into one line.

“Your ear to the playground, your eye on the ball, your head in the gutter, your brains on the wall.”

So let's break these down. This line is easily split into 4 distinct phrases, and all of these phrases have a few things in common, which I will point out later.

“Your ear to the playground” is a play on the phrase “ear to the ground” which essentially means that the person with their ‘ear to the ground’ is attempting to carefully gather intel about something. Someone having their ear to the playground simply reinforces the idea of this suburban “paradise” being. Not as paradise-y as one would hope, seeing as the people who use playgrounds most of all are children, so this line is demonstrating that the picture perfect life that this suburban town offers is actually corrupting children so young that they are still on the playground.

The next phrase is “your eye on the ball” isn't a play on anything and is in fact in itself a common phrase. To have your eye on the ball means to be entirely focused in and paying attention to something, and not allowing anything to divert your attention. Given the last line this line very well could be another reference to the corruption of the youth and the idea that their every day play has already been tainted with the hostilities of modern life usually reserved for adults.

Following this is another well known saying “your head in the gutter” which, as most know, someone whos head is ‘in the gutter’ is someone who will see some sort of innuendo or otherwise vulgar/inappropriate meaning in something that was intended to be entirely innocent, leading to others in the interaction telling the perpetrator to ‘get [their] mind out of the gutter’

And finally, in my opinion the most hard hitting phrase in this set, “your brains on the wall” which is clearly in reference to the notion of ending your own life with a shot to the head, which would lead to, well, brains being on the wall. These last 2 phrases come in stark contrast to the seemingly picture perfect life that suburban towns offer and advertise, the concepts of suicide and perversion are not concepts one expects to see or hear when imagining this idealised form of life.

There is one main similarity in each of the 4 phrases, that being that each phrase has some body part being on something else, your ear to the playground, your eye on the ball, your head in the gutter, your brains on the wall. This similarity almost offers a body horror aspect to the song, which when paired with the concept that this is written about a seemingly post nuclear apocalyptic town presents an interesting idea of possible mutation, but i'll be the first to admit that may be a little far fetched. However that's not the only similarity that these 4 phrases share, another is the fact that they are all directly, or only slightly modified versions of already well known phrases, a similarity that is found in many lines over this entire song, through all 3 sections.

I want to analyse a few more lines before we move on to the second section of the song.

This next line comes directly after the previously analysed line, and it goes “home is where the heart is, you ain't homeless, but you’re heartless”

Sticking with the theme of using already existing and commonly used phrases, “home is where the heart is'' is once again a phrase that you could likely find as a cross stitch hung up on the wall of any of the homogenous houses you could likely find in this idealised suburbia. But what Wood is saying in this line is that home is where the heart is, and that while people in this town may not be homeless, they are certainly heartless, meaning that they in fact don't have homes. They have houses. Rows upon rows of houses that all look the exact same in the horrifying monotony that is suburban living.

Following this line is the lyric “it's the safest on the market, but you still gotta watch where you park it”. These lines seem to be in reference to buying a car. The car being the "safest on the market" is likely in reference to the fact that it may have a lot of safety features. But this is immediately negated by the fact that you “still gotta watch where you park it” meaning that the safety features could be a reason that the car gets stolen, rendering all the safety that those features offered useless because in the end it made the car and the owner less safe.

In the third verse of this section, you immediately hear the line “so give me your half-life crisis” which partially is a play on the term ‘mid life crisis’ wherein which one realises that they may have wasted their life up till that point and they're already halfway through, but the use of the term “half-life” instead of ‘mid-life’ is very intentional, as the term “half-life” can also be used to refer to the half-life of an isotope, which is the amount of time that isotope takes to lose half of its radiation, which ties back into the theme of radiation that we see mentioned a lot in this section.

Later in the same verse is the line “if it's true that a snowflake only matters in a blizzard”, which is interesting in a few ways, first, it brings up the idea of a singular individual means nothing on their own and that they only matter when they’re part of something larger or a larger group, but i also think that the use of the terms “snowflake” and “blizzard” instead of something like ‘raindrop’ and ‘storm’ is very intentional in the fact that snowflakes are known for being individual, none are alike, every single one is different. So saying that a snowflake doesn't matter unless it's in a blizzard is yet another hit at individuality, essentially implying that in this town individuality means nothing and is essentially rendered useless.

The final line in this verse is “everybody's all up in my-” repeated thrice, and on the third time the sentence is finished to say “everybody’s all up in my business” and before the word “business” can be finished its overlapped with the beginning of the chorus, the first word of which is a very loud “SUBURBIAAAA!”. I believe this is reminiscent of the fact that in towns like this, everyone cares so much about what everyone else is doing, they’re all so interested in everyone else's business, and i think that sentiment being stated and cut off by the word “Suburbia” is essentially saying that ‘this is the norm, this is just Suburbia, this is how it works around here.’

After the final chorus of this section, in the final verse, you'll find the line “chameleon peacocks are talk of the town” which particularly interests me because if you know anything about chameleons or peacocks you’d find that they seem incredibly different as animals. Chameleons blend into their environment in order to stay safe, whereas peacocks are known for parading around bright colours to make themselves look better, but if you think about it the term “chameleon peacock” actually makes a lot of sense, a person who blends into their surroundings in order to make themselves look good. This sentiment seems to perfectly describe the homogeneity of the people that live in these perfect towns, they're all the same, they blend in with one another in order to make themselves look good, or perfect.

Another line heard shortly afterwards is the phrase “he cums radiation”, rather vulgar, I grant you, but it's important because it is yet another literalisation of the phrase ‘nuclear family’. It could also be a reference to the general toxicity of this societal norm.

The final line in this section of the song is “the dog bites the postman, as basement eyes dream of a night at the drive-in, with an AR-15”. Which is another use of juxtaposition, intended to cause a kind of whiplash in the listener and reinforce the idea that while in this place there is scenarios that would happen in a hollywood movie esque picture perfect neighbourhood, like the dog biting the postman, there's also horrors that lurk below the surface. (although clearly not TOO far below.)

Now let’s move on to the second part, ‘(Vampire) Culture’.

If you listen to the song, you’ll immediately be able to recognise where 'Greetings from The Marybell Township!' ends and ‘(Vampire) Culture’ begins, due to the insane juxtaposition between the two. Where 'Greetings from The Marybell Township!' is soft and sort of reminiscent of the 1950’s, ‘(Vampire) Culture’ is loud, jarring and grotesque, complemented with much raspier and strained sounding vocals compared to 'Greetings from The Marybell Township!' ’s soft and melodic ones. The tone for this section of the song is immediately set with much more graphic lyrics, the very first line of this section (after the opening scream) is “i dropped my eyeballs in the bonfire, we fucked on a bed of nails” which absolutely sets the scene for how different this section will be to the previous.

This song immediately jumps into using cannibalism as a metaphor, with the first line after the jump start opener being “I caught kuru from your sister, and I'm laughing in jail”. While this line is written to sound like the concept of catching an STD from an act of adultery, Kuru is actually a disease only found in human brain tissue, meaning that you can only contract this disease by eating a human brain, and what's one of the symptoms for this disease? Uncontrollable laughter.

This use of cannibalism as a metaphor is used again immediately after in the line “smell those screaming teenage sweetbreads on that 4th of July grill”, ‘sweetbread’ is the term used to refer to the pancreas and thymus gland of an animal, usually a lamb, but in this particular case it is in reference to the human teenagers that supposedly lived in The Marybell Township, or a least they did before they were dissected, cooked and served at a neighbourhood 4th of July barbeque hosted by the same people that were once referred to as their neighbours.

This line adds an interesting level of patriotism to the song and criticism of how America utilises patriotism and their love for their country as means to justify harming the youth, however a 4th of July neighbourhood barbeque is also commonly associated with white picket fence gated community America, which ties us back to the base criticism of that style of life and how it is seen as the “proper” and “perfect” way to live.

These cannibalistic sentiments are followed up with the line “smile and wave boys, kiss the cook, live laugh and love, please pass the pills.” which brings us back to the repeated use of commonly known sayings being taken directly or modified only slightly to remind the listener of the setting were in, that being a seemingly 1950’s era tight knit neighbourhood.

Phrases like “live laugh [and] love” or “kiss the cook” are both phrases that could easily be seen in a setting like this, especially “kiss the cook”, as this is a phrase commonly associated with aprons worn by grillmasters at neighbourhood barbeques, not unlike the cannibalistic 4th of July barbeque that this particular neighbourhood seems to be hosting.

These phrases being immediately followed up with a sentiment such as “please pass the pills” serves to entirely undermine the pleasantries that, until a moment ago, seemed to be plastered all over the faces of the people living in this fictional town that Wood has created. I think that final phrase brings the listener back to the realisation that not all is right here, quite the opposite in fact, and drags them from their momentary paradise.

Circling back very quickly to the phrase “smile and wave”. I felt the need to point out that this phrase has been used for centuries as a way to say “stop talking and act normal” which once again reinforces that these people are pretending to be something they’re not in order to fit in.

We enter the next verse with the repeated phrase “it's only culture”, after that line is repeated three times we hear “sulfur, smoke and soot”, which could either be a reference to how dirty and disgusting the ‘culture’ is, or it could be a different way of saying that this culture and the people participating are going to hell, as per the common phrase ‘fire and brimstone’ and the fact that sulfur is another way of saying brimstone, and smoke and soot are both byproducts of fire.

The last line of this verse and the first line of the chorus blend into each other, so I’ll speak on them both.

First, the last line of the verse. It goes “you cocked and sucked your lack of empathy, pulled the trigger with your foot to prove you've got-”

Putting aside the clear innuendo, this line refers to the idea of ending one's own life with a long shotgun. According to the media, by the time the gun is cocked and the barrel is in your mouth, you're not able to pull the trigger with your hands due to the length of the barrel. This line instead presents the solution of pulling the trigger with your foot to end your life.

So this person “cocked and sucked” the gun (cocked the gun and put the barrel in their mouth) before pulling the trigger with their foot to prove they’ve got-

And here's where the verse blends into the chorus.

Because the first line only consists of one word.

“Blood”.

The person who was shooting themselves with a shotgun only to prove that they bleed. Which is where the title of this section comes in. “(Vampire) Culture”. This section seeks to portray either the people in this culture or, the more likely option, the culture itself, as metaphorical vampires, who aim to destroy those around them. This knowledge makes the next line “didn't they want your blood, so why apologise for being blue and cold” make a lot more sense. After all, if these culture vampires have drained you of your blood, is it not their fault that you’re now “blue and cold”, as bodies tend to be if they lack blood flow. However, if you look at synonyms for the words “blue” and “cold”, you could also interpret this phrase as meaning “sad and apathetic”.

A sad and apathetic person doesn't seem to be the kind of person this ‘culture’ seeks to enlist however, and so one who is “blue and cold” is shunned as an outsider.

What Wood is getting at is that if this culture is the one who made you sad and apathetic, then you should not apologise to it for being so.

The next verse is short, and like the previous one, also blends into the chorus in the same way, by having the last line of the verse cut off right where the chorus would finish the sentence with the word “blood”. However in this verse, there's an interesting line. “It's only culture and it's more afraid of you than you are of it”, which is a sentiment usually used by adults to attempt to subdue a child's fear of something, usually insects. However it's interesting in the fact that it brings up the idea that this culture that has caused so much damage and harm is actually incredibly fragile, and would, in theory be very afraid of the concept of the individual, because if this ‘culture’ is only being held together by the silent agreeance that everyone will simply pretend, then the idea that there is people who refuse throws the whole idea into jeopardy.

This line is followed up however, by the line that blends it into the chorus. “Go on drink that-”, clearly intended to be finished by the first line of the chorus, making the full line, “go on drink that blood”.

This line is in reference to the phrase “drink the kool-aid” which essentially means to pledge your undying loyalty to something, a concept, a person, a god, etc. and it derives from an infamous mass cult suicide where over 900 people drank poisoned Kool-Aid and subsequently died for the cult. It is not a far cry to believe that this event and this phrase is what the line is referring to, as it's something that Wood has referenced in other songs, so it only makes sense to believe that this is what he means here.

After that chorus we move on to the bridge, which begins by listing 3 pairs of names, all famous or semi famous, and each pair being similar in one right but opposite in another, the line goes as follows; “were you Nabokov to a Sallinger, were you Jung to Freud or Dass to a Leary”, so let's break down these pairs one by one.

First “Nabokov to a Sallinger”, these names belong to Vladimir Nabokov and J.D. Sallinger, both authors who wrote famous books that both surround the theme of innocence, but in very different ways. Nabokov’s book “Lolita” is a story told from the perspective of a grown man about his sexual obsession and attraction to a little girl, and his desire to ruin her innocence, exploring the theme of innocence in a grotesque and frankly horrifying way, which is in stark contrast to Sallinger’s book “The Catcher in the Rye”, which explores the topic of innocence through the main characters desire to preserve their little sisters innocence, and in that desire displays hesitancy at the idea of sex themself. Both books explore the topic of innocence, however while one seeks to preserve it, the other seeks to destroy it, two sides of the same coin.

The next pairing is “Jung to Freud”, meaning Carl Gustav Jung and his mentor Sigmund Freud, who once again are similar in one right, but opposite in another. Jung and Freud both had theories on the nature of the human mind, but where Jungs was all about the concept of spirituality and how that ties into the collective unconscious, Freud's approach was much more focused on the individual unconscious and the concept of sexuality.

The final pairing is “Dass to a Leary”. both psychologists, both at the forefront of the ‘Harvard Psilocybin Project’ (before they both got dismissed from harvard entirely following controversies around the project) Richard Alpert and Timothy Leary were both psychologists and eventually authors who studied the effects of psychedelic drugs on the human mind, and while they were co workers they ended up with pretty conflicting views. Dr. Richard Alpert, who apparently ‘died’ and was ‘reborn’ as spiritual guide Ram Dass, centred his teachings heavily around the concept of living in the moment, (in fact his best selling book, written in 1971 was titled ‘Be Here Now’) and he believed that psychedelic drugs were not needed and that a permanent version of the same effects could be achieved through meditation. Whereas Dr. Timothy Leary advocated heavily for the use of psychedelics, believing that LSD specifically had great potential for therapeutic psychiatric use.

All of these pairings and examples utilise the concept of duality and speak on how every coin has two sides, which can easily be tied back to the idea that the picture perfect suburban life is just one side of the coin. This idea is then reinforced by the next line, “were you mother, daughter, subject and author?”, The use of the word ‘and’ here shows that it's possible to be two sides of the same coin at once, just like how this town, which is perfect on one side of the coin, is still terrible on the other side of the coin. The line is stating that it's possible to be both at once.

The very last line in this section is; “you don't make the rules, you just write them down and do it by the book you throw around”. This line combines a few relatively well known phrases. The first being of course ‘i don’t make the rules’, which can have two distinct meanings. The first is to express a kind of sympathy for someone being punished, and the second is to absolve yourself of the blame for that person being punished, a sort of ‘don't shoot the messenger’ situation.

The ‘rules’ that are likely being referred to here are the societal norms and expectations forced upon people who reside in these towns, the standard for ‘perfection’.

However, following this sentiment up with the phrase “you just write them down” is essentially saying that while it's not the fault of the people in these towns, they didn't create the norms, they still enforce them. They expect everything to be in line and perfect at all times, they follow these ‘rules’ to a T, and they shun and punish anyone who doesn't fit the standard and/or refuses to follow these ‘rules’, which is where the line “do it by the book you throw around” comes in, doing something ‘by the book’ means to follow rules strictly and to the letter, nothing out of line, and to throw the book at someone means to punish them as severely as possible, usually used in the legal sense to mean punishing someone for their crime as severely as the law will allow. So in all, the lyric “you don't make the rules, you just write them down and do it by the book you throw around” ends up meaning ‘you didn't create these norms but you still enforce them by following them to an absolute T and punishing anyone who doesn't.’

With that we enter the third and final section of the song, entitled ‘Love Me, Normally’, a title it shares with another song on the album, but of course this song is partially meant to serve as an overture for the whole album, meaning it shares some similar lyrics with lyrics from other songs on the album, so sharing a title isn't all that surprising.

The first lyric in this section is “do you know the difference between blazing trails and slash and burn?” which is another instance of duality in this song. Trailblazing or being a trailblazer means doing something no one has done before, paving the way for other people to follow in your footsteps, it comes from the literal act of creating a trail in the woods for people to follow, usually by creating notches in trees or setting small fires, hence ‘blazer’, as blaze is another word for a fire. However “slash and burn” is a method of deforestation that involves cutting down and burning a section of forest to create a field. Both examples include using fire to change something, but where one is seen as progress and positive, the other is negative, and seen as a means of destruction. Once again, two sides of the same coin, innovation and destruction.

This is followed up with the line “going against the grain and catching splinters”, which is a line i particularly like because while it is something that literally can happen, if you run your hand along wood in the opposite direction to the grain, you're more likely to get a splinter because you're essentially pushing your hand against the chips of wood, but it also is another metaphor for the dangers of not being the same. Going against the grain in this instance means daring to be different, not going the same way everyone else is going but instead the opposite of that, and in this example splinters are the consequences one would face for being different, especially in a setting like this perfect town, where everyone is the exact same as everyone else.

A little bit later you hear the line “well Lot he had his lot in life, Job his job and i guess you’ll too, and die”.

Lot and Job are both figures found in the Bible, whose names both share spelling with common English words, but are pronounced slightly differently.

Job, from the Book of Job, was a man that was tested by God, made to suffer to test his loyalty, his ‘job’ was to believe unendingly in God and see Him as always correct no matter what.

Lot, from the Book of Genesis, was a man who went through a lot, and the phrase ‘my lot in life’ is a phrase commonly used by people to write off/explain why they don't have it as good as others, they say it's simply their ‘lot in life’.

The end of this line “i guess you’ll too, and die” i believe refers to the fact that everyone will have their own job and their own lot in life, and then everyone in the end will die.

This theory is solidified by the fact that the next line is “The Lord looked down and said ‘hey, you're only mortal’” which is a play off of the phrase ‘you're only human’. Wood himself said that the phrase ‘you're only human’ has always felt weird to him, he says, “cause like, of course I am, aren’t we all? How is that fact supposed to help? I still feel bad. What does being human mean to you?”. He follows this up by saying that the idea of God saying "hey, you're only mortal" offers the same kind of sentiment, but in a “cosmically condescending” sort of way.

The following line reads “giveth and taketh away, till things come out a certain way, leave you wondering when they might go back to normal… leave you wondering why they can't have just been normal”.

This line presents a sort of hopelessness in the realisation that things are constantly changing, nothing is any more ‘normal’ than anything else, there's no such thing as ‘normal’, which is an overarching theme found throughout the album. Once again bringing back the fact that for all intents and purposes this song is an overture for the rest of the album.

To conclude, ‘Suburbia Overture’ is, in my opinion, one of the greatest criticisms of suburban, middle class, gated community, nuclear family life i've ever seen, it highlights the problems in that life and showcases how this kind of lifestyle in its incredibly rigid and restrictive standards is incredibly harmful to the very concept of individuality, because the expectations and unspoken rules set in communities like this and the widespread idea of forced normality seeks to crush any individuality before it even has a chance to blossom.

The use of metaphors and phrases that are well known and are likely to be seen in settings such as this gated community suburban town that Wood has created really paint a subconscious picture of what this community looks like, the use of duality, how every story has another side, and how nothing that is seemingly perfect from the outside is actually perfect on the inside.

Will Wood is an incredible lyricist and the fact that he was able to cram so much symbolism and such a powerful message into a song just over 6 minutes long is genuinely incredible.

Thank you for listening to my/reading my autistic hyper fixated rambling, i hope i didn't melt your brain too badly <3

[princelykitty]

Imagine if everyone in Voltron didn’t end up in space until they were much older, because shiro never crash landed back on earth in that pod.

Keith has a rough few years before eventually finding his way and becomes a firefighter like his father. Hunk and Lance graduate from the garrison as a cargo pilot and engineer respectfully. Lance never could quite make the cut for fighter class. Pidge is a conspiracy theorist who focuses their energy on trying to find their brother and father, they are slowly uncovering more and more of what they believe to be alien radio chatter.

Lance is returning to earth after delivering cargo to one of the moon colonies, Hunk is on board with him. It’s routine for them at this point. Some kind of weird interference starts causing issues and none of the crew have any clue what it could be, Lance is trying to work through it so he can get them safely landed but he knows it’s gonna be a rough landing nonetheless. They come down far too hot, crashing in the stretch of desert between the garrison and the nearby township.

Most of the crew get out with minor injuries thanks to Lance managing to crash this thing more gracefully than they’d all expected but there’s a fire that broke out in the main hull and no one can get to Lance. Hunk is beside himself, this isn’t how he ever wanted to loose his best friend. Then the fire trucks are rolling in and who steps out amongst the crew? Keith Kogane. Despite everyone’s insistence the ship is way too unstable he’s going in anyway because he’ll be damned if he doesn’t at least try to save the remaining crew member. Couple minutes later he’s dragging a barely conscious lance from the wreak. Who is absolutely not happy that Keith was the one to save him by the way. He never did get over that guy one upping him in everything.

Amongst the garrison vehicles that pull up there’s a car only Hunk and Lance recognise, because they kept in contact with Pidge even after they were eventually found out and kicked from the garrison. Hunk assumes they’re probably tracking that weird interference and he’s right. But right as the medical team is prepping Lance for transport something appears in the horizon. It’s a ship, and it’s not one of theirs.

[fannyyann]

Matthew Tkachuk on friend, former teammate Johnny Gaudreau: ‘I’m going to keep his memory alive’

FORT LAUDERDALE, Fla. — Matthew Tkachuk, reigning Stanley Cup champion and prince of South Florida, was bouncing off the walls at the Baptist Health IcePlex on Tuesday. He delivered light cross-checks to his Florida Panthers teammates and led the pack in conditioning drills, and his mouthguard received its customary chomping.

It appeared to be business as usual for the young star who is always occupied with something, whether it be selling the sport in Florida or partying with the Stanley Cup all summer.

Right now, that might be for the best.

Tkachuk’s dream summer turned into a nightmare when he learned of Johnny Gaudreau’s death on Aug. 29.

Gaudreau and his brother, Matthew, were killed in a traffic crash in Oldmans Township, N.J., outside Philadelphia. Police said the brothers were riding bicycles when they were hit by a driver trying to pass an SUV on a two-lane road.

Tkachuk and Johnny Gaudreau played together for six seasons with the Calgary Flames, a couple of American kids taking western Canada by storm, often on the same line. The two left the Flames in the summer of 2022, Gaudreau signing as a free agent with the Columbus Blue Jackets, while Tkachuk was sent to the Panthers in a blockbuster deal.

Tkachuk, whose life has been a whirlwind for months, hasn’t had enough time to process Gaudreau’s death in the month since it happened.

“You put so much work into a season, that’s where all of your energy goes,” Tkachuk said. “Then you make the playoffs. You make the Final. And then, when it was over, we got to celebrate this summer. It was the greatest summer of my life, and some of the most incredible memories were made. But then, right at the end of this amazing summer, the unthinkable happened.”

Gaudreau took Tkachuk under his wing in Calgary, and a forever friendship was formed. Understandably, Gaudreau is on Tkachuk’s mind every day, but that was already the case long before Gaudreau was gone.

“Ever since I left Calgary and came to Florida, all I ever do is tell stories about Johnny,” Tkachuk said. “At one point, I was probably telling the guys down here a Johnny story once a week. I was always talking about him, about something funny he had done, something he had done in practice, whatever. He was the kind of guy that you could never get out of your mind, and I hated being away from him.”

Gaudreau and Tkachuk talked all the time after leaving Calgary, and while they badly missed playing together, they looked forward to having another opportunity to wear the same jersey and maybe even play on the same line.

The NHL 4 Nations Face-Off — a tournament among the United States, Canada, Finland and Sweden — will be in less than five months in Boston and Montreal. Then, in 2026, NHL players will return to the Olympics for the first time since 2014. Between the NHL balking at its season being delayed and COVID creating havoc with the 2021-22 schedule, NHL players have not participated in the Olympics for a decade.

“You have to understand that Johnny and I talked about being in the Olympics together a lot,” Tkachuk said. “In 2022, when they canceled us from being in the Olympics, we were so upset. We were both playing really well together in Calgary and we thought we were going to be so good in the Olympics. We talked about it all the time. That was a tough one. He had played for Team USA in so many big events, and I know it meant a lot to him. Obviously, we would have been together this time. It’s tough to think about right now. But I know he would have been excited for those tournaments and he will be on my mind during those times even more than he usually is.”

Tkachuk doesn’t require nor ask for any sympathy. He simply misses his friend.

“Trust me, I feel like I’m the luckiest guy in the NHL,” he said. “I get to play a sport that I love, and it’s my job. And I get to play it (in Florida), which, in my opinion, is the best place in the league. The lifestyle. The fans we’ve developed down here. The way our fan base is growing and growing every day. You wouldn’t want to be anywhere other than this place. It really is the best, and I’m so lucky to have this life. I came here to win a Cup. I looked at this group of guys and I knew it could be done. I knew something special could happen. I guess I was right.”

Tkachuk’s emotions will surely peak in a few weeks, when the Panthers play on Oct. 15 in Columbus for the Blue Jackets’ home opener. In lieu of typical opening night ceremonies, the Blue Jackets will honor the memory of Johnny and Matthew Gaudreau.

“I really haven’t thought about that night too much just yet,” Tkachuk said. “But I have a feeling that it’s going to be pretty tough to play that night. It’s not just me that’s feeling it, obviously. The whole league is feeling it right now. Anyone who knew him is feeling it even more.”

Tkachuk is busy preparing his Panthers for a chance to claim back-to-back championships. Dynasties aren’t much of a thing in the modern-day NHL, but the Panthers have won the Cup once, have been to the Final two years consecutively, and their core remains in its 20s.

“We can do something special,” Tkachuk said.

Even still, a small part of his mind remains focused on the international tournaments, where he’ll never get the chance to play with Gaudreau again. But he does have a chance to honor Gaudreau during those tournaments.

“It’s been a really, really, really tough few weeks,” he said. “I still can’t even believe it. It’s just so sad. All of it.”

While sitting and looking down at the Panthers practice facility, Tkachuk’s face alternates emotions, his mind churning.

“You know, the thing that’s getting me through this is those stories I was telling you about,” he said. “Those stories about him I tell all the guys constantly. I’m going to keep those stories with me forever and I’m going to keep his memory alive in everybody by continuing to tell those stories.”

He hopes to generate another story involving Gaudreau when the Olympics arrive.

“He would have been there and wearing that Team USA jersey meant a lot to him,” Tkachuk said. “It means a lot to me, too. When I’m there, he will be on my mind the whole time. Even more than usual. And I’ll be telling stories.”

[chronically-ghosted]

between the earth and sky (lover, share your road - prologue) series masterlist | AO3 Link | part i

chapter rating: T (series: E)

word count: 1.1K

chapter summary: how Joel Miller's forefathers came to settle the southern plains

chapter warnings/tags: references to genocide (human and animal), racism

a/n: Miller County was a real place!

Vincente Ramón Morelos with his wife María Guadalupe Rodríguez Saldaña went in search of a better life in 1848.

Exhausted from the bloody revolution against Spain, then the devastating loss at the hands of white “rebels”, the childless couple leave the southern hill country by the San Antonio river to go north, to find peace, in a place that the Anglos have never touched — so promised Señor De La Cruz, a former comandante like Vincente, who shared his dream of wide, open spaces, and a sky that stretches into infinite possibilities.

This land they marched across, with its barren trees and flat golden spreads, is nothing like anything they’ve ever seen before. The wagon chain the Morelos follow whispered in hushed, awed tones. María reached out the side of the wagon, letting her hand brush against brown thistles, watching how the reed springs under her fingers, how it tickles her palm. She never knew the earth could be so soft – teasing her with some great secret it’s eager to share. She looked to her husband and he glowed beneath the rich blue sky and bronze sun. Maybe this was God showing her how to fall in love with a new home.

Towns became few and far between. In a transitory cattle town, Vincente listens to two vaqueros tell stories over a loose game of poker about a briefly-disputed patch of land, five hundred miles east, one that exchanged ownership three times before disappearing into obscurity. But a single name settled permanently, before its township ever could: Miller County. Vincente quietly related to that blurring of identity, a loss of a permanent place to be known and loved, so when going through towns of white Texan Anglos that distrusted his olive skin and aquiline nose, he told them his name was Vincent Miller and he was, like all others, looking for a place to call home. He found it north of what would become Amarillo, and south of what would be Dalhart, between the Canadian and Red River, rivers that never seemed as endless and deep as the Gulf from his childhood. 

By the spring of 1852, Mary (formerly María) and Vincent, established on their acre of land, had welcomed two girls and were expecting a third child, who ended up being a boy. This boy was given the name John (though his mother called him Juan at home) Tomás Miller, after Mary’s grandfather. As a boy, John learned from his father Vincent to listen and trust the Kiowa, the Comanche, the Gods of the Grass Sea, who were said to have been born with a heart of a buffalo. Who walked with prairie chickens and raced the pronghorn antelopes. Recognizing a kinship with nomadic blood of the Millers – once Morelos – the Comanche taught them what it meant to use the land as one uses a brother for support. Use in kind, but treat just as kindly. Avoiding what the Anglos referred to as “dry farming” because it was only the Anglos who believed, by sheer force of will, they could make rain come down from the sky. The Comanche were shocked by their arrogance. As he grew older and stronger beneath that heavy sunshine that had endeared his mother to these foreign lands, John maintained his father’s relationship with The First People, even aiding them in keeping the encroaching Anglo homesteaders off the lands of the buffalo and the blue grama grass. 

When John married in the summer of 1885 a woman whose skin burnt easy in the sun, but had hands rougher than a sailor’s, Vincent was surprisingly happy for his son, because Jennie Sarah Hansen was quick-witted, brave, and possessed a rare quality when it came to the regards of the Tejanos and The First People – compassion. Disowned by her own family for such a trait, Jennie came to live with John, his father Vincent, his mother Mary, with letters from John’s two sisters and their families coming from down south every month. 

Joel Ramón Miller was born in the late fall of 1891, followed shortly there by his brother, Tom – Tommy, because Tom was too serious for a boy with a smile like that – and the lineage of working under blue skies in endless dunes of buffalo grass was passed down, third generation of Vincent, who lived to see his oldest grandson turn five before quietly, with dignity, leaving this world in his sleep. 

Tommy Miller continued to look towards the sun and, as a young man, followed it west. But Joel, like his father, like his grandfather, like the land itself, kept watch over the ones he loved from the porch of that a-frame house, the one his father built for his mother. For a time that included a woman with dark skin and darker eyes out of Alabama. And then it was just the baby who came from her, who came from him. Sarah, named after his mother who was as fierce and resilient as the buffalo grass and as beautiful as the endless sky. 

As far as Joel Miller was concerned that was enough. The two of them – him and his babygirl, with the plums and the maize, and the secrets of this wide wilderness handed down in partnership from the Comanche and the Kiowa, because the Millers knew what to keep and what wasn’t theirs, or anyone’s, to own.

Until the day came when the buffalo were slaughtered by the thousands, and the once great Gods of the Grass Sea were felled, both driven to extinction by a force that held no compassion or concern for the lands it swallowed. 

The cowboys over in the XIT, runners of cattle in the land that used to tremble beneath the hooves of thousands of buffalo, started to complain first. Rumbled that no good was to come of any of it; the American government gave too freely; real estate agents and land developers promised too much. Those arriving in the prairie came only for the green that the wheat boom offered, and had misjudged the quietness of the plains for emptiness.

Joel Miller watched as towns bloomed overnight, model E’s rumbled off the new railway lines, and nesters and sodbusters burrowed into their dugouts like wolf-spiders — at the cost of the beautiful, bellowing sea of grass. The bison were long dead, the Kiowa and Comanche now ghosts between the stalks of blue grama, and a wind was coming in from the north. 

It whispered to those who could still listen and would heed its warnings. 

And Joel Miller, with his only daughter, listened and waited and didn’t like what he heard. First, the drought came. Lasted ten years. Then the economic freefall that blew out entire financial systems on a global scale. 

And then, like a ghoulish nightmare, a specter of death that came from the ill-resting spirits of the bison, came the dust storms. 

The air crackled with electricity, car radios clicked off, overwhelmed by the static. Ignitions shorted out. Waves of sand swept over the roads. Children were lost and found thirty feet from their back doors, dead, suffocated on dust. Five thousand feet tall, wider than entire cities, this was blind vengeance, a reckoning well-deserved.

And for the first time in his life, Joel Miller was afraid.

series masterlist | part i

[foursaints]

the rosier siblings give me major californian energy sorry... they're from venice beach and pandora is the crystal-slinging sunkissed hippie who's always drinking disgusting activated-charcoal smoothies. meanwhile evan is the evil silicon valley "productivity" guy with zero human emotions who is actually also consuming just as many Erewhon superfoods. pan is making him mugwort tea.

the black brothers & the evans sisters are all new england born-and-bred, except lily is the only one with the wide gingham headbands and the pressed plaid skirts and the sparkling 4.0 GPA that she'll keep bleeding for until it gets her out of the suburbs

barty is the mayor's ex-son from a tiny West Virginia township nestled deep in the mountains of rural Appalachia. it's been years since he got out but he's still got coppermouth vipers and dagger moths tattooed all down his back….. and you can sometimes hear a nearly imperceptible stringy twang undercutting his syllables……more ragged than it is rasping......

[punkbarbarian]

will after his brother he hasn’t seen in almost 13 years shows up and tries to beat his ass

[nonconstories]

Humbly requesting the pumpkin-headed monsters as a snippet, that one seems timely (and man am I happy to see you writing again!)

Pumpkins pumpkins pumpkins pumpkins pumpkins pumpkins

Click under the cut for a high school bully (cis guy) getting railed by three pumpkin headed monsters in a moonlit field. It is NOT romantic! Rape, vine bondage, demonic possession, pumpkin dicks! What else could you want???

Word Count 2.9k

Lynn Underwood is possessed by the Devil. Everybody knows that. Well, everybody who goes to Kettles Memorial High School knows that, at least. Lynn Underwood is possessed by the Devil, and her brother Felix is a warlock, and her mother is dead, and her father hasn't left the house in years. The house in question sat perched atop a steep hill, overlooking a shallow ravine and the dirty creek that ran through it, and its appearance did little to dissuade the rumors about the family inside. Every inch of the shuttered windows and an uneven roof and a wrap-around porch were covered in ivy and snarled rose vines, and, every Autumn, the property became dotted with pumpkins of every size and shade. If it wasn't for the pumpkins, the Underwoods might have been shunned entirely; but Halloween comes every year, and people need jack o lanterns, and the Underwoods barely charged a thing.

Gunnar Middleson had learned all of this after his family moved into the semi-rural township. Despite his mother's high hopes (and his father's grave warnings) Gunnar had not changed the "behavior" that got him kicked out of both school districts in their previous town. Had, in fact, picked it right back up on day three at Kettles, when he decided to see what, exactly, was in the creepy kid's back-pack.

"Gimmie that," he'd said, and grabbed the top handle of Felix's back-pack, bringing the gawky, droopy eyed freak to an abrupt stop. His free had had grabbed Felix by the scruff of his neck and shoved him forward, hard, while also yanking the bag backwards. With a strangled grunt, Felix had gone sprawling on the walk outside school, and several other students had gasped. Gunnar had ignored them as he unzipped the bag and dumped it out all over the ground and Felix's legs as he struggled to push himself off the filthy concrete.

Half a dozen books covered in strange words and stranger pictures, bundles of dried plants and flowers, weird rocks, jewelry, random things of twine and tape, and couple of leather bags on straps. "Delicate--" Felix spat over his shoulder, and Gunnar hadn't yet noticed his bloody nose or busted lips.

"Holy shit! They weren't lying, you're an actual whack job, huh?" Contemptuously, he kicked at the random shit, and watched Felix heave himself to his feet. "Oooooh. You gotta tie your shoes tighter, bro. Your face is all jacked up."

Hard gray eyes stared at him, and more blood had oozed from his hawkish (and rapidly swelling) nose. "Apologize," Felix had spat, before dropping to his knees to begin gathering his things. Gunnar had promptly kicked him in the gut, knocking him flat on his back, and then stepped over him to head inside. "Apologize, or I fucking swear--" Felix had shouted after him, as whispers swirled anxiously through the crowd.

Gunnar didn't apologize. Instead, he made Felix his new hobby, and, to their credit, the other students really did try to interfere.

Meaning that, over the next few weeks, Gunnar had gotten the story in chunks and snippets and a few dramatic re-enactments from particularly hyped-up students. When Felix and Lynn were in the second grade, their creepy ass mom had drowned herself in the creepy ass crick below their creepy ass house. Then in fourth grade, Lynn had started having fits. Violent outbursts. Would speak in tongues and kill animals and threaten other students. When she nearly stabbed her teacher to death, that was that. Off to kiddie version of the nuthouse for Lynn until she was stable enough for home-schooling.

Everybody had seemed oddly...obligated to tell him this, and when he'd impatiently ask what that had to do with him flushing Felix's phone down the shitter or hurling his lunch into busy traffic or whatever...things got even weirder.

"He can talk to it," one girl had hissed, glancing furtively around the library they'd both been confined to for in-school suspension.

"To WHAT?"

"The thing inside his sister! The Devil, or whatever, he can TALK TO IT and--" A teacher coming back had interrupted her, and after that, her nerve was gone and not coming back.

Another had said, "He's dangerous, he's unstable, don't fucking needle him."

And yet another had replied simply: "He's a warlock. He can hurt you much, much worse than you can hurt him."

"Oh? Yeah? Then, why the fuck hasn't he?"

Which brings us right up to the present, where Gunnar found himself waking up in the Underwood's pumpkin patch. Brilliant moonlight had bathed everything in eerie silver, and Gunnar looked around, trying to blink his bedroom back into existence. "Wha--" He cut himself off with a cough, his mouth and throat oddly dry. His feet, sockless and a tad sweaty, slid back and forth in his ratty boots, and he looked down, trying to remember why he'd gone outside and walked all this way in just his sweatpants and shoes. "Why--"

His head felt strange, and it took some effort to move his feet. He started walking towards the house, before abruptly realizing that was probably a bad idea. He felt his sagging pockets for his phone. No luck. Looking over his shoulder, he could see the ravine, a toothless maw of darkness, and couldn't stop himself from thinking of the boy in his chem class. Kieran had solemnly insisted that Mary-Beth Underwood haunted Shivering Creek, that he had seen her more than once, and that her spirit was far from peaceful. In the other direction lay the road. Not as dark, but long, and isolated, and that didn't seem particularly safe either. For the first time in a long time, Gunnar felt small and frightened.

Grass rustled behind him, and he whirled in place. Nothing. Nothing but pumpkins, and the house, which leered at him from the crown of the hill, looking more like a jack o lantern than a building. Gunnar warred with himself, trying to talk himself into walking up to the front door and banging on it until Andrew Underwood woke up and helped him. He had no idea what he'd do if Felix answered the door. If Lynn answered, he'd probably sprint downhill and take his chances with her mom's ghost.

He started to take a step towards the downright terrifying porch, but another rustle of grass and pumpkin vines had him freezing in place again. Heart racing, body cold with adrenaline, he looked around frantically, praying to spot a raccoon, a turkey, a goddamn coyote would be a welcome sight and...and where was the big one?

Confusion mixing itself up with the fear, Gunnar turned more fully towards the nearest clump of pumpkins, and approached them; there'd been a really big one in the middle, weighing at least ten pounds, as big as a watermelon, bright orange, and now it was gone--

And where was the white one? That had been off to the left? And the oddly mottled yellow-ish one, that had been in front of the main cluster of them. Both of those had been pretty big too, and all three were just...gone, all of a sudden.

Something was wrong.

He had to get to the house. He had to--

And then something heavy and leathery and too cool to be mammalian was wrapping itself around both of his ankles and yanking his feet out from under him. Gunnar screamed as he lost his balance, but managed to catch himself on his forearms. He looked back, kicking frantically, and then screamed again, much, much louder.

He'd found the missing pumpkins.

More vines came slithering forward, winding themselves around his calves and dragging him away from the Underwood house and towards the cluster of nightmares behind him. Three...things, that was the only way he could describe them, things, were crowded together, watching eagerly as he was dragged closer and closer to their greedy, viney claws and gap-toothed, leering mouths. They each stood six to eight feet tall, with bodies made of densely woven vines and tightly packed leaves, long legs and long arms branching off of their dark green torsos. But their heads were the worst. The gourds had been intact, pristine, when he'd seen them moments before. But now, their flesh had split in multiple places, giving them mouths and eyes and noses, all of which leaked pumpkin guts and shone with an unearthly orange light.

Gunnar wailed in horror and panic as the things lifted him from the ground and looked him over. Up close, the pumpkins rippled like human faces, twitching with expression as they inspected their wriggling, helpless catch. It was the white one that had him up in the air, suspended by the grip on his upper arms, and Gunnar thrashed even harder when the mottled yellow reached out and started to run its dirty vine-hands over his bare torso. "PUT ME DOWN."

All three made an odd sound. It was choked and thick and repetitive, and Gunnar had a sinking feeling that was laughter. The yellow one reached down and yanked off his boots, dropping them to the ground. Then it pulled down his pants, and Gunnar screamed again, so loudly it sent several birds fleeing from the nearest trees. Bare naked in the moonlight, Gunnar twisted in midair, trying to avoid the eager, unnatural hands that were roaming across his body. The orange one, the tallest by half a foot, looked at him over Yellow's shoulder, and made a long, heavy hissing sound.

"I'm sorry--" Gunnar babbled, barely realizing he was saying it, as the white one unspooled more vines and trussed him up even further. "Jesus I'm so fucking sorry, please, just let me go, Felix--"

The hands on his body forced him to the ground, on all fours, and the vines anchored into the dirt, binding him in place. He was positioned so he could see the house, could see the light shining through its upstairs windows, could see the silhouette watching him from the nearest one. "Felix--" He wailed again, and tried to crawl away, but the vines held him tight. Those awful hands had found his hips, were stroking them and his thighs indulgently, over and over, and he whimpered in terror. Whichever of the monsters was behind him slithered closer, and he screamed again as something hard and smooth and textured like an uncarved pumpkin slid between his spread and trembling thighs. The thing was huge and long and shaped...shaped like a...

Before Gunnar could look down his body to see what was rutting against his half-hard cock, the other two monsters shuffled into view in front of him, once again making that awful, inhuman laugh. The white pumpkin knelt on its knobbly plant-knees, and Gunnar found himself repeating "No" on a terrified, baffled loop, as it grabbed the back of his head and held it firmly in place. Because the thing had grown a new appendage.

A second, smaller pumpkin dangled between its thighs, shaped like a fucking dick. A dick that the creature was now trying to force into Gunnar's mouth as he fought to get away. The mottled yellow had one too, and it was presumably Orange's dick that was grinding against his own, getting hard despite his best efforts.

His jaw stretched uncomfortably and he moaned in despair as the fake gourd dick filled his mouth, and the pumpkin thing laughed at him again. Behind him, the orange dragged its cock up his taint and pressed the tip against his asshole, and Gunnar couldn't even scream; the white pumpkin had started fucking his mouth, and he couldn't scream past the girth. Not even when the orange one thrust past his rim, miraculously not tearing anything but causing him a shitton of serious discomfort. Gunnar squirmed and bucked but it got him nowhere, and the monsters kept laughing as they spit-roasted him in the dirt. The yellow one got impatient and shoved the white one away, but Gunnar didn't have time to do more than catch his breath before a second hard, inhuman cock was stuffed into his mouth.

The two in front passed his mouth back and forth while the third used his ass, and the vines holding his limbs in place only dug in tighter if he squirmed too much. Tears were running down his face and his dick throbbed between his thighs, completely ignored.

Up in his room, Felix Underwood watched, fairly certain he was in for a much more peaceful school-life, come Monday morning.

[yatagarasuhonyaku]

The Ravens' Hundred Flowers: Chapter of the White Lilies

①かれのおとない ー His Visits

Timeline: After Ravens of Prosperity

Characters (in order of relevance): Yukiya, Shigemaru, Akeru, Ichiryuu, Nazukihiko

Synopsis: For Miyoshi, Shigemaru's little sister, Yukiya's unexpected arrival to the family house brings back memories: both of his many past visits and of the events that just unfolded.

②ふゆのことら ー Winter's Young Tiger

Timeline: At the start of The Raven Doesn't Choose its Master

Characters (in order of relevance): Ichiryuu, Yukiya, Yukima

Synopsis: Ichiryuu, the third son of the Shimaki Township Lord, wastes his days away picking fights and fooling around, unable to decide on the future, until a certain fateful encounter...

③ちはやのだんまり ー Chihaya's Silence

Timeline: After On Ever Smiling

Characters (in order of relevance): Akeru, Yui, Chihaya, Masuho no Susuki

Synopsis: Masuho no Susuki has a message for Chihaya about a very important matter. It's on Akeru to ensure it all doesn't turn into a disaster.

④あきのあやぎぬ ー Autumn's Twilled Silk

Timeline: Shortly before Clothes Don't Suit Ravens

Characters (in order of relevance): None

Synopsis: As widow Tamaki struggles with her late husband's massive debts, she receives an offer to clean them up by becoming the 18th wife of Akihiko, Masuho no Susuki's older brother and the heir to the Western House.

⑤おにびさく ー Fatuous Fire Crafts

Timeline: Sometime before Clothes Don't Suit Ravens

Characters (in order of relevance): Oomurasaki no Omae

Synopsis: Tokiji, an artisan from the Western Region struggling to find success after his father's death, is between those tasked by Oomurasaki no Omae with making a potential present for Fujinami no Miya.

⑥なつのゆうばえ ー Summer's Sunset Glow

Timeline: From Oomurasaki's childhood to the actual novels.

Characters (in order of relevance): Oomurasaki no Omae, Tooru (Southern Lord), Natsumihiko (Acting Golden Raven)

Synopsis: To be a princess of the Southern House is to give up your freedom in pursuit of the family's goals... or never wake up again. A battle for survival and power.

⑦はるのとこやみ ー Spring's Everlasting Darkness

Timeline: Before the previous Rite of Ascension

Characters (in order of relevance): Ukigumo, Haruhito (Eastern Lord)

Synopsis: Rin and Rei are twin brothers, both with characteristic light brown hair. As aspiring court musicians, both are working under the Eastern Lord when the party to select the princess that will be sent to the next Rite of Ascension takes place...

⑧きんかんをにる ー Of Making Kumquat

Timeline: Years after Ravens of Prosperity

Characters (in order of relevance): Shion, Nazukihiko, Hamayuu, Yukiya

Synopsis: As life in Yamauchi goes on, the dangers of Court remain a constant reality.

[soscarlett1twas]

Dragonrider!Elias who is taking up the mantle of his parents, the two wardens of the dragonriders. His mother was the first to form a connection with the creatures - which were previously thought to be chaotic and completely unreasonable - and his father the second. He spends his days watching over ocean waters or townships, there to serve the people who depend on the dragons for safety, and spends his nights in the sky, flying as close to the stars as he can, on the back of a beast born of them.

Dryad!Isaac who was made from nature but prefers to spend his days in a human form, though watching over the tree which his roots are tied to. After all, he is technically a hamadryad, and after seeing what happened to his mother... he refuses to go the same. Local legends tell of how those woods are haunted, and if you dare to step foot in them, he is always watching. Waiting. But there was a dragonrider who dared to enter once before, and while they were never seen from again, it is said flowers now bloom even in rotting trunks, a sign of a dryad's happiness.

Paladin!Andrew who too once braved these woods. But even if he reasoned with the dryad (or maybe there was a deeper connection), he had to leave, sworn under oath to his religion. But how faithful is he truly? After the woods, his fellow knights have felt his wavering, magic once foreign to him becoming clearer in the light of dappled forests. He tries to reason with himself, but the only thing keeping him truly tied to the faith is his Patriarch, the highest rank a religious official can have in his order - who also happens to be his brother.

Eldritch!Luca who looks and acts and talks just like a normal man, but there's something off. He lurks in dark corners of the world and is known by many names... are we sure 'Luca' is his real one? Creatures are drawn to him, yet even the dragons seem wary...

[em-ira]

From The Human Realm Spiderweb thing, the Internet.

Welcome to Historic Gravesfield

We invite you to come to Gravesfield and visit one of Connecticut’s oldest established townships.

Gravesfield is deeply devoted to preserving our authentic New England heritage, now over 375 years in the making. Heritage tourism is an important component of the community’s identity.

We think you’ll find that the Historic Gravesfield district has many things to offer visitors from an extended weekend getaway to a pleasant day trip. Visitors to Gravesfield can rediscover our nation’s heritage in an authentic, living New England village whose artifact-rich museums, historic homes, shops and places of interest offer experiences for all ages.

Walking along these quiet streets, with brick-paver sidewalks shaded by mature trees, you’d never know you were just a stone’s throw from busy I-91. The historic district of Old Gravesfield is a little world unto itself.

One early building is the old Wittebane House on Main Street. Believed to be built in the 1650s, it’s the setting for the historic mystery of the Wittebane Brothers, who both mysteriously disappeared during the 1662 Hartford witchcraft hysteria, the first widespread witch panic in New England history. There is a statue, reputed to be of the Wittebane Brothers, in the town square.

Two separate but equally disturbing incidents triggered the panic: the “diabolical possession” of Hartford resident Ann Cole and the fatal illness suffered by eight-year-old Elizabeth Kelly.  Young Kelly’s damning last words “Goody Ayers chokes me!” were enough to set witch accusations flying.  In all, eight people were formally charged; three, and possibly a fourth, were executed. 

The disappearance of the Wittebane Brothers occured at a high point of the witchcraft hysteria.

The legend that is most often cited these days recounts that one brother had got involved with a witch, and had been spirited away by them. In this story, the other brother is reputed to have followed after the witch and his brother, in an attempt to save him.

Whatever the truth of the mysterious disappearance of the brothers, the story has continued to excite interest in the centuries since. The statue being erected by public subscription in 1866, to commemorate the township's involvement in the witch trials.

The fund also opened a new subscription lending library in a building near the church.

[petervintonjr]

"I was working for Mr. T. L. Kearny on the morning of the day of the election, and did not think of voting until he came out to the stable where I was attending to the horses and advised me to go to the polls and exercise a citizen's privilege."

Good god, people. I sure misjudged a hell of a lot of you; it is obvious more studying is called for. Way more. As in, "lessons-that-may-soon-be-illegal" way more.

Since we're already fresh on the subject of elections, let's get right into it with a look at the life of Thomas Mundy Peterson. Born enslaved in 1826 New Jersey, Peterson and his family were later manumitted upon their owner's passing, and moved to Perth Amboy. Peterson married and worked as a custodian and general handyman at Perth Amboy's very first public school. Active in local politics, at the age of 46 Peterson had been a participant in a local ballot initiative to revise the town's existing charter; in this instance, whether or not to abandon their 1798 charter entirely and reincorporate as a township. (Spoiler alert: they did neither and became a city in 1844.)

On March 30, 1871, less than two months after the ratification of the Fifteenth Amendment, Peterson voted in favor of retaining the town's existing charter --thereby making him the very first Black American to cast a ballot in any kind of post-Civil War election.

But for one unsurprising anecdote about a white voter at the polling place crumpling up their own ballot in disgust at the sight, Peterson's civic action went largely unremarked-upon (in fact Peterson even went on to be elected to the local city council). It was as true then, as it is now, that local elections are where the most immediate consequences happen. But gradually over time, the symbolism and the larger historical impact of Peterson's quiet moment took on much greater national significance. In 1884 the community raised the equivalent of $1800.00 to present Peterson with a medal featuring Abraham Lincoln's profile in recognition of his milestone --this medal is now part of the collection of Xavier University. In 1989 the public school at which Peterson once worked (P.S. No. 1), was renamed after him.

====

And further to the above subject: Fascism is a hell of a drug, people. One really doesn't see it for what it is when it finally arrives --no concept of just what it is that you've invited into your lives, just because eggs are inconveniently pricey or because you'd rather your kids not be exposed to history lessons like this one. Fascism never merely visits; it takes up permanent residence. Our Black brothers and sisters (especially the sisters) understood that deep in their bones prior to the Civil War, during Reconstruction, during Jim Crow, and during the Civil Rights movement. The rest of us need to internalize that, too. The past 400 years aren't "just" Black history, as if it all only belonged to a specific segment of the population. It is our history. All of us; inextricably connected to it. If we don't study it and learn about it; if we pivot to the deliberate ignorance that fascism so gleefully celebrates, then we all lose.

Racism (and all its cousins: anti-Semitism, xenophobia, homophobia, etc.) has been emboldened, running unchecked --to say nothing of truly terrifying old-school misogyny. (And yeah, go look up the word misogynoir if you haven't already). Of more immediate concern we've got... what, 70 days or so? 70 days to recalibrate, retool, get at least some guardrails up. In that time interval, please reach out to one another --check on your communities and keep a close eye on local issues, not unlike Thomas Mundy Peterson. Offer what help you can spare. Lotta desperation and panic floating about; folks are afraid of losing a lot of things in 2025 and beyond --you know, minor trifles like health care, insurance, income, savings, civil rights, autonomy. They're going to be looking for a connection. If studying these Black biographies these past 4+ years has taught me one thing, it is that authoritarianism flourishes when people isolate --whether forced upon them or on one's own. The moment folks break that pattern and start connecting with one another, the bullies proveably take a cautious step back. (Notice I didn't naïvely use the word retreat.) So look out for one another and keep each other afloat; the bullies hate that.

In the meantime for my part I'm going to keep doing the two things I know I am legitimately good at: teaching and drawing. Therefore I'll keep providing this resource until I am forcibly stopped from doing so.

If you're new to this series, start here.

[snoutbleed]

Telling a story takes guts.

Forensic photographer Sören Heinrich can’t ignore the nausea bubbling in his throat when documenting someone's darkest day. He loses sleep over the fates he captures but is drawn to the purpose vested in his grisly role. When blood-slicked prints become Sören's next subject, he finds a message that blurs the line between his personal and professional life.

"This is where I’ve been. Don’t follow."

Unable to fathom his long-lost brother’s crimson handwriting, Sören descends into the criminal underworld for answers. The young boar's inner demons guide him toward a morbid self-reckoning.

Direktion 2 has their work cut out for them.

Crime is on the rise in post-reunification Berlin. Among the cases, the Polizeidirektorate in the city's westernmost boroughs is baffled by freak murders at the hands of denizens without motive.

In the shadow of the Berlin Wall, the crime wave takes a supernatural twist behind the lock of a post-Soviet puzzle.

Camera flashes at the crime scenes reveal gruesome secrets stirring in the shadows.

Unravel the conspiracy in #LONG STORY SHORT.

#The Filing Cabinet -- scan the profiles of those in the know. #Bloodstained Polaroids -- view the images of lives gone astray. #Evidence Board -- learn the details of secrets best kept. #Mystery Signals -- behold the lore of the mind melt. Face the music in the official Long Story Short playlist!

Everyone gathers toward the Abschnitt.

There are several Polizei Berlin stations like the Abschnitt, but everyone tied to this supernatural symphony ends up near this Spandau station particularly.

Sören Heinrich -- ( boar | tag | bio ) The black sheep of the Abschnitt. Sören’s abrasive nature keeps his co-workers at bay, a division widened by their western ideals clashing with his East German upbringing. He distances himself from the station through tight focus on his job, always the first to arrive at a crime scene. Don Jae Hale -- ( elk | tag | bio ) The silver-tongued Kriminalhauptkommissar of the Abschnitt. Hale is quick to dismiss the killings up until his leadership comes under siege by the paranoid public. Umeya Romanova -- ( fox | tag | bio ) The Bundeskriminalamt detective sent to assist with the Abschnitt’s mounting cases. Rumor says Umeya is there for more than the mystery, but her motives veiled by a callous attitude. Marieke Reiss -- ( rabbit | tag | bio ) The star psychology student barely escaped a killing. Now a key witness, Marieke can’t rest easy knowing she could be the next victim, driving her to take matters into her own hands. Reinhardt Müller -- ( donkey | tag | bio ) The Abschnitt’s disgraced ace detective, worn down and living in the grimy corners of Berlin. When crime spikes, Reinhardt tries to relive his “glory days" of detective work. Ukko Heinrich -- ( boar | tag | bio ) The crime lord defends his territory with brutal but firm methods. He's sworn to his found family, the country's political rift making him protective to a fault. Vorwitz Albrecht -- ( bat | tag | bio ) A gardener with good banners but bad morals. Vorwitz's unsavory career choices put him in the Abschnitt, but he finds a way out with Sören.

Entropy knows no bounds.

Stop, look and listen: stories are everywhere. Behold my settings.

Face more madness in #TALES GONE STALE.

LAID TO WASTE -- an abomination stirs in the bayou, its secrets poisoning a township. THE WASTED LIVES -- a group of galactic fugitives embark on a never-ending getaway on a runaway cruiser. (Links need an update. Stay tuned.)

The mind behind the melancholy.

ACHTUNG! This blog is 18+ for gore and suggestive content!

You can call me Dissy (she/her). I'm a writer with stories and ideas always bouncing inside my head, especially this one. Feel free to ask me about myself, my writing, my characters, or anything else. I promise you I can bark up a tree for hours.

I also do Polaroid photography: check out @hogrot for my shots!

I also encourage comments, critique, etc. about this setting. I want to pace myself while writing this, therefore I have all the time I need to refine this where I can. I don't expect this story to come out for a while anyway, especially as I run it through critiques. Hell, this pet project wouldn't have come into fruition thanks to the feedback of some incredible friends.

Shoutout to PYRY for doing character design and art for this setting, as well as giving his ideas and characters for the Heinrich plotline. Go check out his killer art. This story wouldn't exist without him.

Another shoutout to @tsanapi, an incredible artist who drew the art pictured above. Her sense of style is so keen.

And a final thanks to you, the reader, for tuning into the mind melt. This signals wouldn't have picked up without you.