#folk roots new routes

[jt1674]

[so-i-did-this-thing]

Do you have any advice for someone who is visibly transitioning in front of people that might not be trans safe? I’m worried regulars at my job or possibly worse, my regular uber drivers will realize I’m trans and have a bad reaction. I’ve considered trying to pass until it’s unavoidable and then transitioning all at once so I’m not recognizable as the same person, but that seems a little too difficult to pull off. (You inspired me to finally start HRT btw! My appointment is in March and despite it all I’m very excited!!)

Congrats on starting HRT! 🎉

So, I'm not going to sugarcoat this one. If the HRT you're starting is T, you'll have plausible deniability for a few months, with folks thinking you've got a cold. After then, all bets are off.

What you need to do is figure out how to protect yourself. Best case is embarrassment from stares and gossip. Worst case is discrimination and violence.

You need to prepare for any of these scenarios. It could mean working pro-actively with HR on a transition plan, being ready to document harassment, to having a new Uber route and even a new job lined up.

Be prepared to lose work. Research the crap out of discrimination policies at your job and within the city where you work. Get a feel for who the allies are at your job. See who the local trans-friendly employment lawyers are. Just in case.

In my case, I faced the most outright harassment when I was visibly androgynous. Like, cross the street just to yell at me levels of harassment. This is where I worry about your Uber drivers. Most people won't look at you twice and they mind their own business, but there is a minority who gets riled up if they can't easily gender you and they will make it your problem.

I transitioned publicly in my music career and lost a lot of gigs because of it. I know people laughed at me and probably still do. It was a small world and I just had to deal with it, so I doubled down on my more manic side, was a big personality, and noisily fought for fair pay, which earned me a lot of respect and made the transphobes look foolish. I dealt with the embarrassment of being a spectacle by making it a point to earn those stares on my own terms. And looking back at it, I actually had a lot of fun, and have a slew of stories of me doing things like standing on chairs shouting and making horrible conductors cry. 😅

But in my ad agency career (80% of my income), I knew I could have a cleaner break post-transition and played it safe. I took a contract job, started HRT, and then left when people started giving me weird looks (about 7 or 8 months). I started my new job stealth (I later came out to make a point), though HR knew I was trans due to background checks and whatnot. There is no escaping your paper trail, and you need to come to terms with that.

So what I'm saying is, a lot is up to you and how you want to handle your transition. There is always risk. Have a backup plan and a backup for the backup. Have an emergency fund ready. Have a safety net and people you can check in with and vent to.

Good luck, I'm rooting for you!

[byemambo]

4Minutes EP. 4 - My Takeaways

For the sake of organization: my future takeaways will be under #mambo.4minyap (get it? hehehehehe) cause it seems to be hitting the radar for lots of folks. It's also an interesting series, and I like talking and taking the scenic route while doing so!

Compositional Framing: The Relationship of Oppression

We got the most information about Korn's character and status within the story from this episode thus far: but the visual devices popped out the most for me (I am an artist after all LOL). I mentioned camera angles, specifically bird's eye view in my episode 1 takeaways, but we're met with a different element: shot sizes! I'm not a filmmaker so please go easy on me (my credentials include my storyboarding and animated illustration classes so my knowledge is limited), but what remains consistent throughout this episode is Korn's relationship with authority and power through the usage of establishing shot size, which lots of his scenes with various characters have varying heights.

Tonkla (Authoritarian) vs. Great (Equals)

The way Korn approaches these two characters have their obvious differences in relation to himself, but the common thread is that these two characters are individuals Korn should love. It's expected to love your family unconditionally, and arguably, love your partner even more than that. But as we've seen the story play out, starting from Korn and Great's family dynamics (which I've also covered in episode 1!): love has always been conditional.

Their relationship is revealed from a flashback that Korn and Tonkla are established boyfriends since their university days, however, dating in secrecy. This further contributes to Tonkla's stress and anxiety within the relationship, slowly escalating once he realizes the mistreatment he's tolerating. I found the symbolism between the pet cat's collar and Korn's "senior chief" sash interesting: there is ownership involved, which is mistaken for partnership.

From the jump, Korn doesn't view Tonkla as an equal partner to him, but someone who he can assert dominance over (which is primarily physical but also emotional). By displaying acts of love such as helping Tonkla through his first time and being present during Tonkla's loss with his deceased pet cat, what seems innocent and kindhearted on the surface actually has more context (which due to the 30 image limit, y'all are going to have to watch the episode for yourself and take my word for it LOL).

In the university flashback, Korn mentions keeping the cat's collar as a memento, but he's not the one reaching in and taking the collar off the cat: Tonkla is. Tonkla also isn't the one who puts on the "senior chief" sash himself: Korn is. In both scenarios, Korn is the one making decisions for Tonkla during his moments of vulnerability (both in a state of grief and during a sexual act). I checked out this article to make sure my facts are straight (got too many fun facts up my sleeve), but this approach is how cults target and recruit their victims:

Possible situational vulnerabilities include illness, the death of a loved one, breakup of an important relationship, loss of a job, or moving to another city, state or country.

Is this deliberate, or is it Korn's act of kindness? We can only infer at this moment where Korn falls on the value spectrum, but he's definitely a morally gray character (you can argue with your mom idc). During the after care scene, Tonkla mentions his father (which is alive during this flashback, but not presently living during the funeral ceremony) and moving to a new place with his younger brother due to his father's alcoholism (and possible physical abuse but this is only an assumption). Korn handles this interaction by providing financial stability (cough cough financial abuse) for Tonkla in the meantime, establishing a relationship rooted in give-and-take, debt and IOUs, under the guise of a caring romantic relationship. Given that Tonkla and his brother have suffered from trauma relating to family dynamics and enduring dysfunction into adulthood, I can see why Tonkla had become completely blindsided to this level of power imbalance that is simply all too familiar.

Once Tonkla realizes that Korn is only present in his life for his own self-interest, and access, he stands up against his oppressor, recognizing that there is another individual that is displaying signs of love and care (which isn't 100% healthy, but it's progress nonetheless) that Korn has bread crumbed him for all these years.

This confrontational scene is highly intense and emotional, which is reinforced by Korn's physical stature towering over Tonkla in most of the scenes we've seen thus far in each episode and usually ending with Korn continuing to be enabled. These scenes are usually shot at angles such as panning from above to reveal Korn's power over Tonkla, who's usually shot from over-the-shoulder and panned down. However, once Tonkla finally takes his stand against him, the camera follows him and frames the shot as a close up, tightening the gap between Korn as the oppressor and Tonkla as the oppressed.

Once Korn leaves and returns to question Nan about the leaked information: we're shown a similar staging of Korn physically towering over his victim, but from a cowboy shot slightly panned upward. However, the framing suggests from size relationship alone: Korn is nothing more but a victim himself playing the role of the villain. He is in the same predicament as his own victims, but living in a state of falsehood and denial as he has been trained to believe it is his birth right to take over his father's business (not even taking the time to question the morality behind such a business). What remains behind choosing moral righteousness over injustice: the disappointment of living as a failure and abandonment of his family system, the only consistently good thing in his life that is his younger brother Great. It's heartbreaking because we can see somewhat of goodness from his beaconing of retrieving information without the reliance of violent methods (which is unsuccessful and out of context, rather pitiful?), and I really do hope that he will be able to redeem himself (but I wouldn't completely write off the series if he does not deserve redemption).

However, the greatest loss is Tonkla's revelation of his own entrapment: reminiscing the memories held by the collar but in an entirely new perspective. The composition of him looking at himself in the mirror is hauntingly beautiful but full of melancholy: the mirror serves as a moment of literal self reflection, the collar reminding him of living as a possession rather than a person, the frame of the mirror serves as a metaphorical cage. Now it's a matter of whether or not Tonkla will reclaim his power again and recognize that he's simply a bird confined in his cage, but the door is now wide open. Will he realize soon that he has his own wings to fly?

Moral Value: A Hidden Responsibility

We've seen in this episode Great having a better understanding of his gift, establishing his moral compass and duty to act with integrity and with a strong sense of justice. Seeing such strong character development within these past few episodes is breathtaking (especially if you've been a long time supporter of Bible and just his journey as an actor). We have a good sense of Great recognizing his autonomy and relationship with free will, contrasted to how passive and reluctant he was in doing the "right" thing and being given a second chance to make a different decision.

Tyme's motive reveal (I love being right hehe) after being confronted by Great's demand for why he attacked his brother became a turning point for Great to finally tap in and establish his innate desire for moral justice, especially after being told about Nan's captivity and being foreshown her demise once he found her location. What I found most interesting during the initial rescue of Nan from Samarn was just how "normal" his conduct was when addressing Great as the son of his upper head. How polite his language was while holding a gun and standing next to a pool of his victim's blood, to just before Tyme's appearance where Great becomes the voice of reason amongst the chaos.

"Why can't I?"

It's such a simple response, but it's so loaded with depth and hidden meaning: it makes you sit back and also wonder...why can't I?

Great becomes an individual questioning the circumstances surrounding him, enabling himself to experience change. When his "friend" attempted murder and brought him along for the ride, when he experienced his first few heart attacks and hitting the woman seeking unalivement, when he is confronted by his brother's attacker and doesn't blindly dedicate his loyalty to his brother for the mere fact that he's family, when he sees Nan's predestined death in the hands of the enemy (which you can say that it really be your own people).

What makes Great such a fascinating character to me is just how dynamic and determined he's become after being gifted with foreseeing the future. Having such excitement in his awareness to his free will makes me enjoy him more as a character, that our lives are not predetermined to live and die for, that we have morals and values that must be considered and analyzed for its legitimacy, that we have integrity to do what's right without entitlement to self-interest, that we have the shared responsibility to criticize the world in which was built for us, but our jobs to upkeep and maintain. I'm excited to see what's in store for Great moving forward, and I'm so happy for Bible and Jes to play such characters.

Even though the lighting is similar to how Korn and Tonkla's flashback was, the visible warmth is even more obvious with how these two established their relationship. That in contrast to KornTonkla's ownership, TymeGreat is partnership (we haven't reached boyfriend status yet but it's coming!) How Tyme is willing to accept and make room for Great's excitement and passion, to hold it gently, to cherish it as a fleeting moment. Their NC scene in comparison to KornTonkla and WinTonkla is simply ethereal: the level of shared vulnerability and intimacy warmed my heart. From the lighting to the shots and down to the chosen score, the director does a fantastic job of creating such dissonance between all the pairs (which lots of people like to write off NC scenes as unnecessary and vulgar but it's just blatant purity cultural standards imposing on all of us and I need to dedicate another time to talk about it). The visual storytelling thus far has me anticipating more from the story as the details continue to establish the worlds revealed to us.

Tonkla's Brother: The Arrival of Home

I'm sure we all saw this coming but the reveal is heartwrenching. To see such a sweet face and scene filled with hope and longing with its immediate contrast to harsh reality, my heart goes out to Tonkla. Some may infer that there's a separate timeline that exists alongside reality, but I think it's possibly a hyperrealistic hallucination or dream by Tonkla (since the last scene we see of him was just before heading to bed for the night but also his intense codependency on drugs). Of course on the surface, people can infer that this is simply Dome returning home from recovering from his injuries: however, I interpreted it philosophically. Dome arrived home for his soul to rest.

We're shown in the first half of the episode of Tonkla mourning after Dome's body is cremated (I'm also Buddhist but I'm nationally American and ethnically Vietnamese so my interpretation of the religion will have its differences), which now establishes Dome's physical remains returning to the earth which his soul can no longer return to. I imagined Dome's soul has reincarnated and given access to the Western Pureland (since Tonkla was physically outside in the warm sunlight versus his more cool toned coloring within his scenes), only hoping that he actually experienced resting on his deathbed ready to enter the afterlife with a smile. Now we know that Tonkla's fingerprints were already in the investigation database: we need to know why and what crimes he had already committed before the murder shown as the opening in episode 2. This is definitely going to affect Win's current dynamic with Tonkla, given that they're now living together and he has access to Tonkla's home and possessions. Maybe we'll experience another shift in character development like how Great was, but possibly targeting Korn if the company is involved in Dome's case somehow.

Honorable Mentions: Heart Attack Transition

This scene was literally so fucking cool. The match cuts and in and outs of the inversion (def going to have trigger warnings for future GIF sets) were literally out of this world, especially when I find out it's from the freaking painting within the hospital hallway that is just a prop on the surface. I wonder who suggested such a transition and I wonder how they'll depict Great's future heart attacks and visions. The VFX team is working overtime and I'm so impressed so please give them their flowers!

[lancerfay]

Holy carp the way I played Citizen Sleeper ended so impactfully

I basically chose every single route where I stayed behind, letting someone I was getting close to leave because there were more people I could and wanted to help on the station. I felt sad when I abandoned Lem and Mina on the ship dock, I most was torn over letting Bliss and Ankhita leave without me, but every time I was thinking I could still do more here, there was still someone that I could help. I also figured at least I'd have a place at the bar with Tala.

Then I got to the very end of the DLC stuff, where the station is evacuating and lo and behold everyone's insisting I should leave, that the only ones staying behind are either occupied with their own lives (like Feng, Sabine, and Rabiah) or were leaving themselves, like Tala.

I get pretty into the roleplaying sometimes in games like this where I get to make my own choices and dang did I have a Moment when I realized that my character was only living for other people and now that they're all going to be gone she would have chosen almost *anything* different.

I cried ngl.

In the 11th hour I chose to leave, I had insisted to Peake that I would stay the whole time, and betrayed them as I left, didn't even have someone with me, just gone and alone again. Had I known I absolutely would have gone sooner.

Roleplaying situation aside...

I feel a lot of what I felt about the people and situations in The Eye to be really well mapped to a lot of larger cities people move to for work, which is absolutely in line with the game's tagline because places like here in Seattle are 100% like this. Most people feel like it's just where they are for now "until their luck turns around", "until I pay off my debt", "Until I get a new job somewhere else". The people from here can't stay because what it is has been slowly crawling towards inhospitable, and it's future is constantly directed by the whims of outside forces that only want to exploit it.

I see parallels, too, in people I've met and characters in game, if you strip away the scifi trappings. I've met someone stuck with a kid they didn't have a say in raising but love nonetheless who wants nothing more than to leave to a new promised start because this one failed. Desperate that this time it'll work out. I've spent a brief time with a professional who's on the run from themselves, looking for an escape but finding themselves falling back into bad patterns, needing to give up everything of themselves to feel cleansed by it. I've definitely met folks that have some semblance of roots laid, and want to just gently fade away into the pocket they've secured, giving to others if they can, but ultimately alone.

Makes me personally reconsider my reasons for moving up here and into this city of transience and if I'll find what I'm looking for, and I think that's so cool that this game evoked that thought in me.

[autisticrosewilson]

In Trouble

Um. This is a joke that's not a joke that spawned from a conversation with @perseus-jackass about Nurse! Jason and Red X! Grant, that spiraled into a Miraculous Ladybug style love square situation lmao. OG's will remember when this was an ML blog, you could say I'm going back to my roots. Also this story is omegaverse! It's not really mentioned till Jason's pov but I don't want to blindside anyone

"Scream if you have to." Robin says gently, before wrenching his shoulder back into place. Grant does scream, he jerks and writhes but gloved hands hold him in place while his bones shift under the skin. There's a white hot pain that spreads through his arm, an aching relief as everything is realigned, and then everything goes prickly and numb.

Grant lays there panting, staring up at the smoggy night sky. Gotham doesn't even give him the courtesy of stars after subjecting them all to her madness. Robin had at least been kind enough to lay down his cape before his impromptu field med session, but goosebumps are spreading up his arms the longer his bare torso is in contact with the New Jersey air. At least Robin had helped him remove his shirt instead of cutting it off, as he'd threatened to.

"Good job," Robin praises, "you took that so well!" He grins, a certified Robin smile. Suddenly, Grant knows where all the stars went.

"Uh, thanks." Grant says absently, eyes tracing over the glint of too-sharp canines peaking out from cracked lips. Robin's a lip biter, he notes, the flesh has been scraped off. They'd probably bleed with little to no effort.

Grant wants to try, wants to taste it.

Slade clears his throat, and Grant remembers that his family is in the room, among several other hostages, and about twelve previously armed men who are now very unconscious. Robin himself has moved onto taking stock of everyone in the room, likely doing a head count and checking for any other injuries, but he signals for Slade to wait. He tilts his head slightly, finger coming to rest on the communicator in his ear.

"Okay folks, police are en route and the parameter has been cleared. I'm going to lead you all to the nearest exit, keep your head low and try not to make any noise. Listen carefully and stay behind me." Robin pops out of his crouch, helping Grant up as he gives the group orders.

"Look, kid-" Slade starts, and is promptly cut off by multiple snorts from the other hostages. The Gothamites, Grant realizes when he notices how calm they are. The collective reaction seems to throw his father off for a moment, but he continues. Grant feels a flash of second hand embarrassment. "Shouldn't you let the professionals take care of this?"

Robin smiles placatingly, it's got customer service written all over it. "I understand this is an upsetting situation, especially for a tourist, but we have everything handled." He assures.

Slade goes to say something else but Robin doesn't spare him a second glance, pulling out a handful of zip ties from one of the pouches of his belt. He gets to work ridding the men of weapons before tying their hands behind their backs, and then looping more zip ties through those to fix them all firmly together. None of them would be going anywhere anytime soon. He kicks all their guns to a far off corner anyway for good measure, but pockets a hunting knife one of them had been carrying.

"Secured," Robin chirps to whoever is on the other side of his comm, "Where to next?" He rolls his shoulders, resting his hands on his hips. After a moment Robin nods to himself. "Got it, meet you outside."

Grant watches as he heads towards the door, most of the hostages easily following his orders, they stay close together and seem to default to herding the omegas and pups in the middle. He almost gets swept up in it, shielded by the crowd, but then Slade's big hand is on his back bringing him and Joey to the front of the group just behind Robin.

He's shorter than he seemed earlier, when he was looming above Grant, backlit by flashing red lights like a blood soaked angel. He's slimmer without the cape wrapped around him, but with his gaze stuck to the muscle flexing in Robin's thighs he can tell the dark haired boy is stronger than he looks.

Robin leads the way, crouched low and keeping to the wall. The crowd does the same, unusually calm as they gently shush the children and tourists who aren't quiet enough. The implicit trust is breathtaking, the easy way that Robin commands the crowd with a cocksure smile and easy confidence. They only run into trouble once on the way to the exit and Grant barely has time to flinch before him and Joey are both shoved behind dad. Grant strains to see how Robin reacts to the two guards rushing at them but all he can make out is a flurry of movement and flailing limbs. There's the cracking of bone and then Robin's ringing laughter and then the hallway is still and quiet again. Slade's grip on his shoulder is still tight, Joey still pressed to Slades back. Grant nudges forward in time to see Robin securing the unconscious bodies.

He turns back to the crowd, hair a little messy and cheeks a little red but hardly even out of breath, and motions for them to keep going. They do, the group easily parting around the crooks before clustering back together. Like fish, Grant thinks, absently reminded of a trip to the aquarium not long ago.

They all file out in a straight line when they reach the exit, Robin holding the door open and checking behind for any stragglers before breaking away from the group to stand beside Batman. He looks even smaller next to the imposing figure of the Bat, but the cops seem to take his orders seriously.

Grant is pulled away by Slade and he barely realizes where they're going until he hears his mom's voice. She pulls him into a hug, all warm tobacco and vanilla but it almost doesn't register. She pulls Joey in next, peppering his face with kisses and surely staining it with her dark lipstick in the process. Her and Slade are talking about something over his head, but everything sounds like it's underwater. His attention is pulled back to Robin, sitting with some of the younger pups who are having their statements taken, someone's chubby toddler being bounced on his knee. He assumes the man in the nearby ambulance is the child's mother if his intent gaze and round belly are anything to go by.

Without thinking he clutches the fabric around his shoulders tighter. It's heavier than it looks, soft but tough. The outside is plastic-y, like a raincoat, but the inside is silky fabric slips pleasantly over his skin. He feels a tug on it from behind him, tuning back into the immediate conversation.

"Now what is this?" His mother frets.

His mouth opens but he doesn't say anything at first. "Robin gave it to me." He manages, the first thing he's said all night. He clutches the cape tighter, unwilling to let it go. It's a comforting weight, it feels like all that's keeping him on the ground, like if he lets go he'll simply float away.

His mother reaches for his face, tilting towards her. Her eyes are sharp but not angry, studying his expression and the look in his eyes carefully. Whatever she sees makes him purse her lips and glance towards the ambulance. "Oh my baby, you're in shock." She tells him, but the meaning behind the words doesn't register.

"First time getting his shoulder reset, he'll be fine." Slades voice, an attempt to be reassuring. Grant tenses before the words fully compute.

"WHAT!" His mom's voice is loud and shrill enough to make his ears ring and he knows they're going to start a fight.

He's shaking, he realizes, gaze dropping down to the trembling of his good hand where it's resting on her elbow. He doesn't remember moving it. Her skin is warm under his hands, he can feel the way her muscles are tensing as the voices around him raise.

He turns back to Robin, but the boy is already staring at him. At least Grant thinks so, hard to tell where he's looking with the white lenses, but he's facing Grant's direction. His lips are twisted, displeasure or concern maybe, and Grant wants to soothe him but he doesn't know how. Then his head tilts, just slightly, and Grant realizes that Robin had been looking at his parents. He can feel Robin's attention on him fully now, settling over him like sunlight. It's warm and grounding and he can feel his body again. Robin smiles, small and proud and encouraging. A secret just for Grant, to keep and cherish and own. And then Robin is turning, attention maddeningly taken by the others that Grant has just remembered. He feels cold, the kind of cold you feel in the early morning when you've just slipped from your warm blankets, the kind that settles on your skin and then sinks into your bones.

Grant's eyes don't leave Robin until the car pulls away, and as he's craning his neck to catch one last glimpse he sees Robin standing on his tip toes to wave Grant goodbye. He waves back, but the windows are tinted and they're already too far away.

Jason has a secret, and an embarrassing one at that. He knows if anyone ever found out he'd never be able to live it down. Jason doesn't even know how it started really, it's not like he's ever been interested in the latest trends or celebrity gossip.

Jason will blame Rena, because it's easier than analyzing the alternative. Technically it started with a routine hostage situation, but for deflection purposes, it starts with a link to an app that's trying too hard to be Vine. He'd squinted at it, toothbrush still in his mouth, half convinced it was a rickroll.

Jay: Why are you up?

Ren: Why are YOU up?

Jay: I asked you first.

Ren: I messaged you first

Jay: Not how that works.

He had rolled his eyes at the time, finishing up his nightly routine, reluctantly chewing on the multivitamins he's supposed to take every night before bed. The gummies only, never the pills.

Ren: did you watch the video

Jay: I'm not clicking an unknown link, Rena.

Ren: wow full name

Jay is typing...

Ren: Not an excuse for you to use my real full name

Ren: seriously watch the video!!

Jason remembers huffing, he probably put it off till the last second, until he was curled up in bed and on the cusp of finally getting some rest. It's all secondary to the video though, the familiar face split into a wolfish grin, those pretty eyes catching the flash of cameras and sending a wink towards the viewer. It's obviously some kind of rich person event, paparazzi lined up and a carpet laid out on the damn ground, but you wouldn't know it from how the boy is dressed. The orange and blue jacket over the button up would probably make him snort usually, but all he can think about is broad shoulders and warm skin under his hands. Unwarded he remembers what Grant's bare chest looked like, and then the image of strong shoulders wrapped in Jason's cape. He doesn't know how many times he watches the video before the next message comes through.

Ren: isn't he hot?

Jay: Who is he?

Jason already knows of course, but Rena doesn't know that, and he's not keen on informing her. She might start getting ideas.

Ren: Grant Kane, he's some old money CEOs son from New York or something

Jay: And?

Kentucky, Jason corrects mentally, Adeline Kane is from New York but the Wilson family lives in Kentucky.

Ren: I heard his mom is coming to your charity gala next week

Jason's heart skips a beat, teeth sinking into his lip to bite back the giddy grin trying to break through.

Jay: Once again, and?

Ren: And? C'mon when do we get to see new faces at these things? Especially ones as pretty as his!

Jealousy twinges in his chest, churning hotly in his stomach for a moment before he's hit with a flash of guilt.

Jay: oh? You interested

Ren: Pft nah

Ren: this is for you

Ren: my ducks are in a row

Jay: Hurtful, but whatever. I don't even know him. Maybe I don't want that duck in my row.

Ren: Start being real with yourself rn

Ren: I'm coming over tomorrow so we can decide on what you're wearing<333

Usually he matches with Bruce, or Dick if he shows up. He can only imagine what Rena is going to try to talk him into. Technically, Jason is unpresented, even though everyone else his age has already. Most pups present around thirteen, Jason is turning sixteen soon. Leslie says it'll be any day now, that with time, and love, and a steady three meals a day Jason will come into his own in no time. Jason isn't so sure.

Rena herself is a beta, but she's always been a bit of a rule breaker. More so than Jason anyway. She always goes above and beyond with her outfits for these things, with the kind of passion obviously bred from living with the biggest fashion mogul in Gotham. He can only imagine what her plans to play matchmaker are going to entail.

Ren: I've enlisted Eddie to help me

Jason stops, fingers hovering over the keyboard, jaw slack. The indignity! He doesn't need a- an intervention to help him get a date!

Jay: When did you guys even start talking?

Ren: YOU gave me his number

Jay: That was a courtesy! You weren't actually supposed to use it!

Ren: 😜

Jason scowls at his phone. He switches over to his chat with Eddie, certain the omega is still awake watching a terrible obscure movie he's going to tell Jason all about when they see each other again.

Jaybin: I've been betrayed, forsaken, abandoned.

KD: Ok edgelord lmao

Jaybin: STOP laughing I've been the victim of a conspiracy!

KD: Are people on Twitter calling you guys vampires again or do they have something more interesting?

Jaybin: Not that kind of conspiracy.

KD: ???

There's a pause as Eddie stops typing, Jason assumes to go Google it, before his speech bubble pops up again.

KD: Is this about me and Rena wingmanning for you

Jaybin: SO YOU ADMIT TO IT! FIEND! SCOUNDREL!

KD: Weird way to say thank you but okay

Jaybin: I don't need help.

KD: ok well we would LIKE to help

KD: please let us

Jason purses his lips. He hates when Eddie does this. Like he's the one being difficult here. Sometimes he feels like everyone treats him even younger than he is. Just because he hasn't presented doesn't mean he's a baby. He can't wait to be sixteen, hopefully by then he'll know his designation too.

Jaybin: Fine, but I retain full rights to veto anything you pick or any plan you make.

Eddie's response is a gif of a cat doing a happy dance, and though he rolls his eyes he likes the message. He's added to a new chat immediately, one with the three of them in it. Rena sends the video to this new chat, apparently named Operation: HONEYPOT. Jason finds quickly that his lack of admin rights means he can't change it.

He huffs, watching the two messages back and forth. Sending photos he's already seen and telling him information he already knows about Grant. The screen slowly goes dark as his eyes flutter closed, burying his face in the milky hazelnut scent just barely managing to cling to the shirt he's been using as a pillowcase, the MCTC logo pressed against his cheek.

It's a guilty pleasure, he supposes, Grant's smell in his nose as he imagines what his voice sounds like, of Grant pressing into his touch instead of flinching away. He switches to an app easily passing as a calculator, inputting the password without thought to pull up the tracking grid.

He skims over everyone else's - Bruce and Alfred are in the manor, Natalia is in her manor on the boundary of Little Italy and Summerset, Dick's phone is at least in his BludHaven apartment, Barbie is still staying at her dad's house until she gets used to her wheelchair - the one he's looking for is marked with the Robin symbol, blinking steadily, somewhere in Kentucky. The sky is probably clear for him, a star filled sky unobstructed by the pollution of the city. He imagines Grant staring out at the sky, red lip caught between his teeth, thinking about Jason. What he might be doing as he does.

Jason nods off, eyes fluttering shut, matching his breath to the gentle pulse on the screen.

[randomvarious]

Today's mix:

Fuse Presents Hell by Hell 2000 House / Techno / Deep House / Electro / New Wave

Goddamn, man, I'm not gonna say outright that this mix in particular is the greatest shit in the world—although it's pretty close!—but the ethos behind it certainly represents what has ultimately led to some of the most astonishing sets that we've ever had the pleasure of witnessing as a species. There's this late 70s-and-80s-rooted spirit that's equal parts unpredictable and eclectic, in which the overall route of the set doesn't feel pre-planned at all, because the DJ takes risks by linking tracks together that you yourself would never expect to hear in succession. The overall journey from point A to point B that you get taken on is one that's long and winding and full of surprises, and the DJ themselves doesn't really have any particular destination in mind to begin with either, because the perpetual question that's always most immediately on their mind is, "hmm, what banger do I want to play next? 🤔"

And I feel like this flying-by-the-seat-of-its-pants approach to DJing has largely faded from the limelight and has gradually been replaced by either the DJ who specializes in one specific dance subgenre that's in one specific range of BPMs for a whole set, or the DJ who just plays mindless EDM claptrap from a pre-loaded USB stick 😒. All of it's so safe and hermetically sealed shut. Where's the danger, the fun, and variety of it all?

See, what you really have to understand here is that there was no place on the planet that was more sonically diverse than your typical late 70s and 80s dancefloor. House, freestyle, synthpop, disco, hi-NRG, pop, post-disco, art punk, art rock, art pop, electro, hip hop, funk, boogie, post-punk, new wave, dance-pop, dancehall, two-tone ska, glam rock, sophisti-pop, soul, alternative dance, R&B, etc., etc., etc., all had the potential to be played at any given moment during a set, and the ultimate job of the DJ was to craft a breathtaking sonic collage out of any of it.

And that's exactly what Germany's DJ Hell channeled here with this commercial mix from 2000 for the second ever installment in Belgian club Fuse's own series. But what's more is that while Hell was deriving his inspiration from an attitude of a bygone era, he also happened to have about an extra decade of music at his disposal that his spiritual predecessors didn't. And the 90s ended up seeing a mega-expansion on the frontiers of electronic and dance music entirely, so while Hell certainly picks out his classics from super popular acts like Donna Summer and Frankie Goes to Hollywood, on here you're also gonna find stuff from contemporary dance legends like Todd Terry and Carl Craig, different flavors of rock from Tuxedomoon, Sparks, and the Flying Lizards, Brazilian-sampled techno from Andrew McLauchlan, and deep house from Bougie Soliterre. In reality, almost none of this track list makes any lick of sense on paper, but that's the inherent beauty of the whole thing, folks! Once you put it on and get a taste of Orange Lemon's (Todd Terry's) "Extended Club Mix" of "The Texican," you really start to get a feel for the vision that's been laid out here, and it's one that's mindbendingly motley, and more in the vein of how a lot of old DJ sets used to be!

The best DJs to me are the ones who appear to be doing it purely off the dome and are just living right in the moment while barely thinking ahead. They know how to wow a crowd with a memorable blend of classics, a contemporary hit, and obscurities from any decade, place, or genre, but they make adjustments if and when they feel the need to as well. And above all else, they possess an uncanny ability to play songs that you don't see coming—or that you never even knew existed in the first place—while also convincing you that the choice they made is one that's both thrilling and logically sound. It's a tough act to balance, like a halftime gimmick who rides a unicycle and spins plates on a long rod that sits on their chin while also juggling bowling pins, but DJ Hell is someone who clearly has the knack for it and puts it on full display here.

The world could always use more of this kind of DJing in it, especially when so many of us now have access to more music than we know what to do with that's all sitting right at our fingertips.

And by the way, I didn't really get into specific tracks with this post here, but "Desire," by 69, which is just a nice alias that was used by Carl Craig, is one of the most stunning combinations of string synth and drum break that I think I've ever heard in my life. Good lord, what a tune that is! 🤯

Listen to the full mix here.

Highlights:

Speedy J - "Evolution" Ché - "The Incident (Wet Dream Mix)" Orange Lemon - "The Texican (Extended Club Mix)" Liaisons Dangereuses - "Avant-Après Mars" Tuxedomoon - "What Use" 69 - "Desire" Mitsu - "Shylight" Donna Summer - "I Feel Love (Patrick Cowley Megamix)" Sparks - "Beat the Clock" Phuture - "Rise From Your Grave (Wake Side)" Foremost Poets - "Pressin On" Bougie Soliterre - "Superficial (Main Vocal Mix)" G Strings - "The Land of Dreams" Frankie Goes to Hollywood - "Two Tribes (Annihilator Mix)" Dopplereffekt - "Rocket Scientist" Andrew Mc Laughlan - "Love Story" Filippo "Naughty" Moscatello - "Disco Volante" The Flying Lizards - "Steam Away"

[thechanelmuse]

My Book Review

Morgan Jerkins was trending during the release of Kendrick Lamar's Drake hit diss record, "Not Like Us," after culture vulture DJ Vlad attempted to get her fired from her teaching position at Princeton University for telling him to mind his mf business. Black folks digitally hemmed him up for his spiteful retaliation, and he began backpedaling only after he discovered Morgan is the niece of legendary producer Rodney "Darkchild" Jerkins.

Seeing her name trend quickly made me recall her memoir, Wandering in Strange Lands: A Daughter of the Great Migration Reclaims Her Roots. It was one of my favorite reads of 2022. I headed to this site to reblog my review. Lo and behold I never posted one on here 🙃. So here we are.

From the moment I read the title, I knew this book would feel familiar, taking me back to the my early days of deep curiosity, personal discovery, and documented confirmation while uncovering the long paper trail of my ancestry and land. (For info on lineage tracing, refer to my post here.) 

Morgan Jerkins' familial journey through Georgia, Lowcountry South Carolina, Louisiana, Oklahoma, and California made me think of my own as a granddaughter of grandparents who headed to New York during the Great Migration by way of Georgia, South Carolina and North Carolina extending to Louisa County, Virginia and Boley, Oklahoma. Morgan's memoir, which is divided into four sections, is engrossing, detailed, and reels you into a seat next to her on her journey.

Here's the book's blurb:

Between 1916 and 1970, six million Black Americans left their rural homes in the South for jobs in cities in the North, West, and Midwest in a movement known as The Great Migration. But while this event transformed the complexion of America and provided black people with new economic opportunities, it also disconnected them from their roots, their land, and their sense of identity, argues Morgan Jerkins. In this fascinating and deeply personal exploration, she recreates her ancestors’ journeys across America, following the migratory routes they took. Following in their footsteps, Jerkins seeks to understand not only her own past, but the lineage of an entire group of people who have been displaced, disenfranchised, and disrespected throughout our history. Through interviews, photos, and hundreds of pages of transcription, Jerkins braids the loose threads of her family’s oral histories, which she was able to trace back 300 years, with the insights and recollections of Black people she met along the way��the tissue of Black myths, customs, and blood that connect the bones of American history.

Genealogy is a never-ending process of search and discovery for Black Americans that's met with hidden documents and some areas paper genocide, due to destroyed documents, misclassification, and several stages of racial/ethnic reclassification for our ethnic group implemented by the US government since the 1790 census. I'm pretty sure even after concluding this book Morgan continued her search, working back through her long lines. It's layered like an onion. I've been working on mine for almost two decades reaching the 1600s for a few. It gives you a sense of awakening that's an everyday feeling. It'll never dissipate, especially being able to pull black the veil and unearth the identity of ancestors whose names haven't been said for hundreds of years.

[burlveneer-music]

A new album from Kahil El’Zabar’s Ethnic Heritage Ensemble today as well - "Open Me, A Higher Consciousness of Sound and Spirit"

This is the new offering from Kahil El’Zabar and his Ethnic Heritage Ensemble, in conjunction with the legendary group’s 50th anniversary, Open Me, A Higher Consciousness of Sound and Spirit. Open Me is a joyous honoring of portent new directions of the Ethnic Heritage Ensemble; it’s a visionary journey into deep roots and future routes, channeling traditions old and new. It mixes El’Zabar’s original compositions with timeless classics by Miles Davis, McCoy Tyner, and Eugene McDaniels. Thus, the Ethnic Heritage Ensemble continues affirming their indelible, half-century presence within the continuum of Great Black Music.  Open Me, El’Zabar’s sixth collaboration with Spiritmuse in five years, marks another entry in a run of critically acclaimed recordings that stretch back to the first EHE recording in 1981. The storied multi-percussionist, composer, fashion designer, and former Chair of the Association of Creative Musicians (AACM) is in what might be the most productive form of his career, and now in his seventies, shows no signs of slowing down. Few creative music units can boast such longevity, and fewer still are touring as energetically and recording with the verve of the Ethnic Heritage Ensemble.  The EHE was founded by El’Zabar in 1974 originally as a quintet, but was soon paired down to its classic form — a trio, featuring El’Zabar on multi-percussion and voice, plus two horns. It was an unusual format, even by the standards of the outward-bound musicians of the AACM: “Some people literally laughed at our unorthodox instrumentation and approach. We were considered even stranger than most AACM bands at the time. I knew in my heart though that that this band had legs, and that my concept was based on logic as it pertains to the history of Great Black Music, i.e. a strong rhythmic foundation, innovative harmonics and counterpoint, well-balanced interplay and cacophony amongst the players, strong individual soloist, highly developed and studied ensemble dynamics, an in-depth grasp of music history, originality, fearlessness, and deep spirituality.” With El’Zabar at the helm, the band’s line-up has always been open to changes, and over the years the EHE has welcomed dozens of revered musicians including Light Henry Huff, Kalaparusha Maurice Macintyre, Joseph Bowie, Hamiett Bluiett, and Craig Harris. The current line-up has been consolidated over two decades — trumpeter Corey Wilkes entered the circle twenty years ago, while baritone sax player Alex Harding joined seven years ago, after having played with El’Zabar since the early 2000s in groups such as Joseph Bowie’s Defunkt.  For Open Me, El’Zabar has chosen to push the sound of the EHE in a new direction by adding string instruments — cello, played by Ishmael Ali, and violin/viola played by James Sanders. The addition of strings opens new textural resonances and timbral dimensions in the Ensemble’s sound, linking the work to the tradition of improvising violin and cello from Ray Nance to Billy Bang, Leroy Jenkins, and Abdul Wadud.  Open Me contains a mixture of originals, including some El’Zabar evergreens such as “Barundi,” “Hang Tuff,” “Ornette,” and “Great Black Music” (often attributed to the Art Ensemble of Chicago but is, in fact,  an El’Zabar composition). There are also numbers drawn from the modern tradition, which El’Zabar uniquely arranges, including a contemplative interpretation of Miles Davis’ “All Blues.” As a milestone anniversary celebration and a statement of future intent, Open Me effortlessly carries El’Zabar’s healing vision of Higher Consciousness of Sound and Spirit.   All compositions by Kahil El’Zabar except tracks ‘All Blues’ by Miles Davis, ‘He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands’ spiritual folk by Unknown, ‘Passion Dance’ by McCoy Tyner and ‘Compared to What’ by Gene McDaniels All arrangements by Kahil El’Zabar Tapestry and Art Direction by Nep Sidhu

[tmbgareok]

You seem to have a fair amount of folk/folk rock on your play lists, besides Davey Graham &Shirley Collins, (just impulse bought a physical copy of "Folk Roots, New Routes) Karen Dalton, and Simon and Garfunkel, do you have any recommendations? I'm pretty well versed in that scene, but would love any of your insights.

Also, semi-related har you listened to any Vashti Bunyan? I feel you'd enjoy her.

JF: Regarding Karen Dalton--I feel like a witness to secret history knowing my old neighbor, the WFMU dj Nick Hill who was truly instrumental in reintroducing Dalton to the modern world. He played her records and spread the good word tirelessly in the 1980s and worked both indie and major label folk to reissue her recordings and press unreleased material. Of course my experience is anecdotal but it seems entirely possible her music would never have resurfaced to the level that it has if it wasn't for him. here is an article about it--

In terms of folk recommendations--I just made a playlist for my personal listening, but it has lots of folkie and country and trad-ish songs...

[meadowlarksabove]

Tales from Arizona 1/??

(Memories from Arizona, this one featuring a child Gabban. !!!!!!!PLEASE READ THE TRIGGER WARNINGS IN THE TAGS!!!!)

__________________________________________________

Near the Northeastern border of Arizona, miles North of the sacred Window Rock, sat a settlement no more than ten houses long. They’d been a tight knit community from the start, a circle of used-to-be raiders whose cache of caravaners and traders ran dry a long time ago. With no other choice for them but to settle down and till the soil, it only took these raiders two generations to become a simple town on the border. Chells, as they called the place, had garnered a bit of luck in those early years, having established a trade route with a village built on the ruins of old Shiprock. The trade road led them straight across the border and far into New Mexico proper. If things had been left to flourish between them, Chells might have grown to a considerable size, with families from both towns having come together by the roots. Yet Arizona had stopped being a place of new beginnings. 

It’d been a little over two decades since the Legion had sprung out of the earth and spread out like a sickness across the Southwestern states. Tribes of all names had fallen around them, but Chells had managed to stave off that kind of violence through deals and monthly offerings. Though as Flagstaff became a hub of its own accord, with great farmlands producing at tireless speeds, the usefulness of stray settlements only waned with each passing quarter. 

The people on Old Shiprock weren’t faring any better, as all other contacts were cut off by the fires of the red bull. It seemed, untouched as they were in all the strife, they too would have a turn with the Legion’s ire. Many of the settlers began to pack their belongings hoping to flee before the soldiers were sent their way. Friends and family in Old Shiprock advised them not to venture any deeper into New Mexico, yet the road northward into Utah seemed like an even bigger gamble. Before they could decide on their next course of action, however, they would have to first hand over their monthly offerings so as to not rouse suspicion from the taxmen who came to collect. Afterwards they’d have about three weeks of free movement. 

On the day they were due for inspection, strange plumes of smoke appeared over the horizon, followed by a smell they could only describe as sinister in nature. The few elderly in their midst spent the morning cloistered inside their homes, while the younger folk covered their faces with rags and gathered their shipments in the middle of town. Another few hours passed and the smoke plumes trailed closer without any sounds of horses or brahmin-led caravans. They had always known the taxmen to travel in sizable parties for their own protection, but as they looked south they saw that two other fires were lit from different directions. 

They knew, right down to the soles of their anxious feet, they had to start running and fast. The Legion hadn’t come to collect this month, but to siege the town and its people. A community of only a dozen families would’ve been no match against the bull’s smallest squadrons. Everything aside from clothes and rations were thrown over the wayside then. They even saddled the load bearing animals in the hopes of hastening their escape. But as the first handful of settlers began to move out of the bounds of their farms, they found that smoke had billowed over the surrounding hillocks, blinding them entirely. 

Masked soldiers came out of the poisonous stench in neat files, first pushing back with their weapons then firing at will. It was common for the men-folk to be killed, but they’d half expected that women and children would be spared. None of them had ever imagined this level of brutality. When would simple people, with kind hearts, ever think it possible to attack with absolute disregard for human life? How could they have imagined the brutal, but efficient apathy that pervades the Legion’s military tactics? These were hardly the actions of men, but beasts trained for the sole purpose of tearing flesh apart. Chells fell against the Legion in a single sweep, and none were saved but the smallest of their boys. 

Once they put down the fires and let the smoke clear, they began to drag the bodies towards the farms for quick disposal. There wouldn’t be any piked heads or crucifixions on that day, barely any of the men under Decanus Hortensius even knew the name of this town. This was only a blip on the war map, something of a future lookout camp on the perimeter of the state. Whoever these people were, whatever these houses meant to them, were dust kicked up on the battlefield. 

Several soldiers were tasked with stripping the houses of any and all metal that could potentially be smelted for weapons or construction material. Which meant that hinges, paneling, and all manner of fixtures were to be removed. Smaller hands were needed for this kind of work, so the child legionnaires currently active in the field were sent to squeeze through the walls once they had helped gather the dead in a pile. 

“This is what I’m looking for, okay? It looks and shines like this.” A teen, only sixteen years of age, waved a scrap of iron in front of the kids. All of them immediately huddled close to him like birds by a fistful of corn. “Does everyone understand? Hey, Gabban, you listening?” 

The small boy straightened as he was called and nodded. “Yes sir.” 

“Alright, go get to it! If you find anything, big or small, yell out and we’ll break the wall!” The children spread out in a flurry of shouts and hurried footfalls. This wasn’t their first time stripping homes down to the marrow, or their first time on the battlefield either. These ones had been hardened to violence by about two years. So as they passed the hallways full of gore and burst shrapnel, they barely ever flinched or looked away from the objective.

Gabban, a blonde, wiry looking boy of about twelve summers, went to search the second story of the easternmost house. There didn’t seem to be anything of value around the first floor, but the second story did have something of a quirk to it. The usual way to go about searching the walls would be to kick the wood in and make a hole to enter through. But all the rooms seemed to already have a sliver, a kind of opening that served as his way through. Maybe the house had never been finished and the walls were never closed to begin with. This little town, whatever its name was, looked very different to Flagstaff anyway. Perhaps they were purposely left open like a kind of storage space. 

His eyes lit up, maybe he’d find something valuable after all! That’d for sure make his decanus happy, even get him excused from his duty of feeding the dogs. They’d already mauled him once before and he knew they’d do it again if they were hungry enough! When they gnawed on his flesh it was like savoring a meal! And they wanted to eat him still, he knew. He slapped the side of his head a few times to keep him from thinking too long and too hard in that direction. If he wanted to be rid of the evil mongrels he’d have to find something good. 

The walls weren’t too narrow for his frame and he was able to walk on his side at a good pace. After a few seconds of pawing in the dark, he seemed to round a corner and continue inside the connecting wall. He kept feeling his way like that until something stopped him dead in his tracks. Gabban’s voice was caught in his throat and his breath hitched. There was someone’s face in front of him, a girl who couldn’t be two years older than himself, with an expression that mirrored his own terror. 

At first he’d thought she was a corpse, stuck, someway somehow, inside the walls. Yet she blinked as she gaped at him in horror and drew up tears with each second that passed. He quickly smashed a hand against her mouth just as the first sputters of her voice began to slip through the shock. 

The both of them remained stock still in that awkward position for what seemed like hours. Their infantry had taken no adults or teens this time, only a couple of infant boys to be made into future soldiers. If she’d been spotted beforehand she would have been killed with the rest of the young girls. That meant she must have been hiding in the wall throughout the whole attack. She was, like the others, a target waiting to be neutralized. An enemy? 

“Shh!” Gabban tightened his grip around her mouth. “Stay quiet, please stay quiet!” This wasn’t right. He should have already shouted for the others to come find the girl and dispose of her. 

“You have to stay quiet and you have to stay still. If they find you they’ll kill you.” Her eyes widened, but she knew not to cry or scream then. Every part of her was stiff like an animal under a knife. The fear in her eyes gave him a terrible sense of vertigo, he wanted to throw up everything in his body, even his stomach if he could. “You have to stay in the wall until it’s dark. No matter what happens, you have to stay here until it’s dark, okay? Do you understand what I’m saying?” 

Another lapse of eternity passed before she nodded against the force of his arm. “Don’t make a sound, just don’t make a sound.” Again, he waited until she nodded and released her from his grip. This was insane, he had to go and tell someone immediately. “I’ll come back when it’s dark. Please, just don’t make a sound.” 

If he looked into her eyes any longer he’d scream, so he turned his head and scrambled his way out of the wall as if his life depended on it. How had nobody heard her in the walls? Insane, he had to tell someone, he had to tell his superior, he had to- His legs came to a stop in front of the teen from before, now busy with scraps of metal pulled from the other houses. 

“Anything?” 

“No, nothing in that house. All wood.” 

“Damn. Well, it’s not like the wood’s going to waste either. We’ll be stripping that tomorrow, for now though, we’re setting up camp. Decanus wants us to pitch the tents in the center of’ town.” 

“Yes sir.” Gabban blinked a few times before making off for the center of the thoroughfare. Why hadn’t he said anything? He was sweating profusely and his eyes shot in every direction. There were hounds about to bite his ankles, he just knew they were there. No matter how many times he’d hit the side of his head, he couldn’t stop thinking, and he couldn’t stop thinking of running back to her. It was hard to focus on anything else and he got slapped for messing up his orders a few times. Decanus Hortensius wasn’t pleased with the slip ups and he was assigned to feeding the dogs again that night. But even that couldn’t center him. 

Night came on like a shroud over the barren town, whose empty houses stood like shadowed monoliths along the road. Gabban, for his part, picked up the buckets of guts and fat for the mongrels, and watched as mother moon, Juno’s moon, came out of the dark clouds. “She has to come out too.” His heart thudded hard against its cage. In all this time he hadn’t told another soul that she was up there in the house. This was a kind of betrayal, right? If they found out about her and that he’d lied about there not being anything in the walls he’d be killed too. Gabban hoisted both buckets forward and moved towards the mongrel cages. His arms were trembling, but he managed to dump everything just far enough into the cage to keep them away from his person. The sound of their jaws snapping and the sound of men breaking bread by the tents sent electricity through his legs. Almost as quickly as he’d turned, he bolted straight for the shadow of the houses, having fortunately gone unnoticed in the bustle of soldiers making camp. 

He ran straight east, through the door and up the steps. Gabban’s vision was reeling all the while, but he wouldn’t stop until he sped right into the room and peered through the sliver in the wall. “Are you still here?! Quickly are you here?!” It was quiet for a moment, until he heard the soft shuffling of feet beyond the corner of the wall. “Come on! Quickly! They’re all distracted and slow with food! Quickly!” 

The girl came into view and her eyes, to his relief, weren’t as filled with that visceral horror from before. She held out her hand to him and he pulled her gently out of the wall.

“Ah.” She was taller than him, he noticed, and that made him smile for some reason. “Have you ever left town before?” 

“Yeah…twice with dad he- he sells skins.” 

“So you know where to run?” 

She furrowed her brow in thought, he knew there had to be so much whirring inside her, too many thoughts to sift through to possibly remember how to even breathe. But she nodded eventually. “Yeah. I know where to run.” 

“Okay. Well, you’re gonna need this.” Gabban undid his scabbard and strapped it onto her pants. She’d tried to lean back from him the second he'd moved, but froze again as she saw him tie his knife to her hip. “Just in case there’s a gecko or something. You’ve killed animals right?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Then you’ll be alright.” 

The hilt of his knife felt comfortable in her hand, it was a good fit for youths like themselves. It was actually the first weapon he had ever learned to wield. 

“How old are you?” 

Gabban looked up to meet her eyes again. “Twelve, I think. I don’t know my birthday, but I think I’m twelve now.” A lot of expressions crossed her face, though it seemed to him she’d just heard something she’d never wanted to learn. Something vile, and he was sorry for being the vile thing. He might have told her as much, but there wasn’t a lot of time left. 

“Whatever you see outside you have to remain calm. You can’t make any noise or they’ll find you. Just run.” 

“Okay.” 

“Now, follow me.” 

He took her gently by the hand and led her down the stairs. The light from the campfires twinkled through the first story windows, smothered at times by soldiers marching around the street . The blood splattered across the walls made the girl shake, of course, though he kept reminding her of what he’d said with a mere squeeze of her hand. You can’t scream, or cry, or breathe too hard, you can only run.

Gabban then opened the back door, away from the lights and into the northern expanse of the wasteland. They took a few cautious steps under the bare moonlight before they figured whoever was patrolling the perimeter had already passed this side of town. 

The further they walked towards the wilderness, the less he could hear the men and the dogs, and the less his heart pounded. Then, as if coming to a threshold, he let go of her hand. “This is as far as I can go. There won’t be any more soldiers from this point on, but you have to be careful.” 

“You’re not gonna run away?” 

It was his turn to give her a strange look. “I can’t leave. I have to see my brothers.” 

She looked at him sternly for a long moment. Her hand wrapped around the hilt of his knife as if considering a million ways to attack him, though relaxed after a minute of pure tension. 

 “I hate you. Every one of you. If I ever see you again, I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you with your own knife! I swear it on my life.” 

In all this time, he’d found it hard to look her in the eyes, overwhelmed by the animal fear he saw in them. Though now, as if thoroughly steeled by her threat, he faced her without any hesitation.

“You have to be quick now.” “I’m serious.” “Be swift and be careful.” 

She looked as if she were about to say something else, but her legs betrayed her in that instance. Hours of wanting to run had finally caught up to her, and she made off to the hillocks in a whir. Just as he’d directed, she didn’t scream and she didn’t cry. She just ran. 

Gabban watched her go until he couldn’t see the blur of her silhouette anymore. Mother moon, Juno’s moon, was still high in the sky, but that wasn’t who he was thinking about then. Nor did he think about the girl when he laid shaking in the cot all throughout the night thereafter. Instead, he thought about the men around him and that he’d done such a vile thing to them. He thought of how he'd betrayed them without a moment’s hesitation to save an outsider. 

I’m a monster. I’m a monster.

[symptomofloves]

15, 16, 17, 18 :)

15. a song or album from the 60s:

folk roots, new routes by shirley collins & davy graham

favorite song: hares on the mountain (introduced to it through maria's october playlist <3)

16. a song or album from the 70s:

la era está pariendo un corazón by silvio rodríguez

i was introduced to this song by the irma vep soundtrack (which is amazing btw); not only is it a poignant song, it's actually also relevant to my research on nueva canción!

17. a song or album from the 80s:

endangered species by wayne shorter

the first time i heard this song, it was actually as a cover at the domi & jd beck show this summer. so groovy!

18. a song or album from the 90s:

post by björk

favorite song: it's oh so quiet (i maintain that some of her best songs are her covers of jazz standards)

[magnoliafalls]

— welcome to magnolia falls...

Nestled on the banks of the Atchafalaya River in southeast Louisiana, Magnolia Falls is less of a town than it is a loose collection of inhabitants who've occupied its land for generations. Their history lies buried deep beneath the bayou, strangled by the roots of skeletal bald cypresses that have lived and breathed and held their secrets for centuries.

Weathered clapboard buildings constitute the town's main street, but they're little more than a strip of hot asphalt forked off of Route 90. When the local folk speak about the real Magnolia Falls, they're referring to the shotgun houses with their doors misaligned to confuse wandering spirits, and the river delta that plays host to a variety of opportunities not available through official town commerce. They speak of the local cemetery haunted by moonshine-drinking teenagers; of the cicadas that sing at dusk from the tops of mossy oak trees; of the swamp water that tastes like cherry wine when the moon is full and is rumored to let you live forever with just a few brave gulps.

Magnolia Falls is many things. Some say it's smack in the middle of everywhere—66 miles southeast of Lafayette, 62 miles south of Baton Rouge, and 88 miles west of New Orleans—even if there are more angel oaks around these parts than there are human beings. Others claim it to be a labyrinth; unrelenting in its hold on every resident who's tried to leave, only to end up back in town limits sometime in the decades that followed. Of course, what most people don't realize is that, more than anything, Magnolia Falls is a beacon home to beacons—playing host to the very witches who greedily soak up the magic inlaid deep within its roots, and the beastly creatures who derive from that magic.

a 21+ discord supernatural rp

https://discord.gg/AgJyRrY53r

[cagemasterfantasy]

Dwarf (Overview)

Kingdoms rich in ancient grandeur, halls carved into the roots of mountains the echoing of picks and hammers in deep mines and blazing forges a commitment to clan and tradition and a burning hatred of goblins and orcs these common threads unite all dwarves. Bold and hardy Dwarves are known as skilled warriors miners and workers of stone and metal. Though they stand well under 5 feet dwarves are so broad and compact that they can weigh as much as a human standing nearly 2 feet taller. Their courage and endurance can also easily a match any of the larger folk. Dwarven skin ranges from deep brown to a paler hue tinged with red but the most common shades are light brown or deep tan like certain tones of earth their hair worn long but in simple styles is usually Black gray or brown though paler dwarves often have red hair. Male Dwarves value their beards highly and groom them carefully. Dwarves live to be about 350 on average so the oldest living dwarves often remember a very different world. For example some of the oldest dwarves living in Citadel Felbarr can recall the day more than 3 centuries ago when orcs conquered the fortress and drove them into exile that lasted 250 years. This longevity grants them a perspective on the world that shorter lived races such as humans and halflings lack. Dwarves are solid and enduring like the mountains they love weathering the passage of centuries with stoic endurance and little change. They respect the traditions of their clans tracing their ancestry back to the founding of their most ancient strongholds in the youth of the world and don't abandon those traditions lightly. Part of those traditions is devotion to the gods of the dwarves, who upload the dwarven ideals of industrious labor skill in battle and devotion to the forge. Individual dwarves are determined and loyal true to their word and decisive in action sometimes to the point of stubbornness. Many dwarves have a strong sense of justice and they are slow to forget wrongs they have suffered. A wrong done to one dwarf is a wrong done to the dwarfs entire clan so what begins as one dwarf's hunt for vengeance can become a full-blown clan feud. Dwarven kingdoms stretch deep beneath the mountains where the dwarves mine gems and precious metals and forge items of wonder. They love the beauty and artisty of precious metals and fine jewelry and in some dwarves this love festers into avarice. Whatever wealth they can't find in their mountains they gain through trade. They dislike boats so enterprising humans and halflings frequently handle trade in dwarven goods along water routes. Trustworthy members of other races are welcome in dwarf settlements though some areas are off limits even to them. The chief unit of dwarven society society is the clan and dwarvs highly value social standing. Even dwarves who live far from their own kingdoms cherish their clan identities and affiliations recognize related dwarves and invoke their ancestors names in oathes and curses. To be clanless is the worst fate that can befall a dwarf. Dwarves in other lands are typically artisans especially weaponsmiths armorers and jewelers. Some become mercenaries or bodyguards highly sought after for their courage and loyalty. Dwarves who take up the adventuring life might be motivated by a desire for treasure for its own sake for a specific purpose or even out of an altruistic desire to help others. Other dwarves are driven by the command or inspiration of a deiry a direct calling or simply a desire to bring glory to one of the dwarf gods. Clan and ancestry are also important motivators. A dwarf might seek to restore a clan's lost honor avent an ancient wrong the clan suffered or earn a new place within the clan after having been exiled. Or a dwarf might search for the axe weilded by a mighty ancestor lost on the field of battle centuries ago

Traits

Your constituiton score increases by 2 Dwarves mature at the same rate as humans but they're considered young until they reach the age of 50 on average they live to be 350 Most dwarves are lawful believing firmly in the benefits of a well ordered society they tend toward good as well with a strong sense of fair play and a belief that everyone deserves to share in the benefits of a just order. Dwarves average 4 1/2 feet and average 150 pounds. Your size is medium Your base walking speed is 25 feet your speed is not reduced by wearing heavy armor.

Darkvision: Accustomed to life underground you have superior vision in dark and dim conditions. You can see in dim light within 60 feet of you as if it were birght light, and in darkness as if it were dim light. you can't discern color in darkness only shades of gray.

Dwarven Resilience: You have advantage on saving throws against poison and you have resistance to poison damage (meaning that damage is halved)

Dwarven Combat Training: You have proficiency with the battleaxe handaxe light hammer and warhammer

Tool Proficiency: You gain proficieny with the artisan's tools of your choice: Smith's tools, brewers supplies or mason's tools.

Stonecunning: Whenever you make a History check related to the origins of stonework you are considered proficient in the history skill and add double your proficiency bonus to the check instead of your normal proficiency bonus.

You can speak read and write common and dwarvish. Dwarvish is full of Hard consonants and gutturul sounds and those characteristics spill over into whatever other language a dwarf might speak.

Subrace: Pick between hill dwarf or Mountain dwarf when picking this race.

Source: Players handbook

[parma-formenorion]

Blorbo ask game

Few outside of the person who tagged me and @oracleofimladris knows my OCs so I'm going to do my main OC, Hithon, chieftain of the Tundra Folk. Tagged by @melpomaenofimladris. (now go do one of your other characters, Mel :P)

What is your blorbo’s:

1. Favourite season?

Spring-winter (late winter), when the sun returns to Forodwaith and sets all the world alight with white fire.

2. Favourite food?

A sausage-like loaf containing minced reindeer meat, fat and salt, wrapped in a fatty membrane from the reindeer's stomach, smoked for hours over birch wood, and fried in more reindeer fat on special occasions, or otherwise left to dry and ferment in the cold air.

3. Favourite plant or herb?

A delicate spray of white flowers on a deep red stock, growing from a rosette of dark green leaves. She blooms in June, taking root in rocky cracks in the high places.

4. Favourite person/being?

Probably Cúvaer, his closest and oldest friend.

5. Favourite place?

Each place has their season and their purpose in his life - in his summer lands, on the northern coasts of Forochel, he is happiest wandering on the high cliffs overlooking the ocean, while in his winter lands, on the slopes of the ice-bound bergs and fjells of inner Forodwaith, he loves best the the soft mossy valleys, where much that is fair clings to life in beds of lichen or in the shelter of berry bushes. Also there's a little marshy area along one of the autumn migration routes with consistently excellent cloudberry-picking opportunities, of which he will reveal the location to none but members of his own house.

6. Favourite animal?

If asked, he's probably say some sort of joke answer like the lemming (for fun, google 'angry lemming') but I think he finds dogs to be the most reasonable creatures.

7. Favourite drink?

Hot water.

8. Favourite hobby/activity?

Calculating absurdly large numbers, with a system of rocks or other small, immediately accessible objects as counters.

9. Do they like to read? If so, favourite genre?

He can't read a system of writing other than the Runes of Daeron, which aren't used for long texts, traditionally speaking. He does enjoy the oral tradition. In these waning days of the third age, he listens most attentively to news from other lands, good or ill.

10. Do they like to dance?

Yes.

11. What is their favourite room in the house?

Dwellings in Forodwaith are single-roomed affairs built around a large central fire. There are outbuildings for storage and depending on the area, shelter for animals, but otherwise all activities of life are conducted in either the yard or inside at the fireside. He doesn't particularly have a favourite place to spend time in all of that, tho.

12. Favourite place to travel to?

Though it is a long, dangerous journey, the Wild Wood has always made his heart glad.

13. Who is their best friend?

see #4.

14. Favourite bioregion?

I'm too busy to learn enough about Western biology to figure out what the bioregions in Endor would be according to that way of knowing, so I have no way of answering this at this time.

15. Choose one for them: wine, beer, cider, hard liquor, or none?

Shots of Everclear.

[l3xistentialism]

TAURUS ♉️ | As the Sun enters the sign of the Bull, we’re called to reflect on our connection to the earth and the nourishment we receive from having our material needs met. Taurus natives are known to love to eat, sleep, fuck, create, and do things on their own time. They don’t necessarily *enjoy* working so hard; they do it because it affords them easier access to the things they want out of life. Word to the wise: do not rush these mfs; just know it’ll get done. Honing this energy and working with it effectively calls on us to just be real with ourselves and our situations and do what makes the most sense. Taurus is fixed earth; common sense is life.

Some significant astro events happening during Taurus Szn 2023:

*Aries Black Moon Eclipse: right before the Sun ingresses into Taurus, there’s an explosive hybrid Solar Eclipse in Aries that brings abrupt beginnings and fresh new territory to tread. Focusing on independent pursuits and how they affect our relationships with others, there’s some new experiences to be had. If we’re being stagnant or hesitant about things, we’ll basically be kicked in the chest out of our comfort zones.

*Sun Square Pluto: Almost immediately after the Sun ingresses into Taurus (right after that eclipse), the Sun will make a Square to Pluto in Aquarius, putting pressure on how we’ve done things before & challenging us to empower ourselves by taking a different route.

*Mercury Retrograde in Taurus: Mercury in the sign of Taurus keeps our mind grounded & focused on material comforts. Its retrograde motion may make these things harder to come by. Of course there’s the usual Mercury Rx stuff of folks popping back up, technology malfunctioning, overall delays & needed revisions. Digging into the healing work that Mercury Rx in Taurus offers requires us to really allow ourselves to slow things down and not be pressed for…anything really.

*Venus enters Cancer on May 7, bringing our desires towards that which feels like home. We’ll be looking to receive love that feels safe while nourishing our emotional senses. We may fall into wanting more traditional relationships after a little exploration while Venus was in Gemini.

*Jupiter enters Taurus: The planet of expansion enters Taurus’s grounded home on May 16, bringing luck and blessings to our material pursuits. We’re encouraged to place our faith in that which is sustainable and bears creative & material fruit.

*Mars enters Leo: On May 20, right before the Sun enters the sign of the Twins, Mars ingresses from the more subdued motivations of Cancer to in-your-face Leo. Things are going to get loud, & folks are not going to be so willing to give up their sense of autonomy and power. Things may be unseasonably warm for unreasonably long (Fixed Fire), conflicts will be rooted in selfish, prideful endeavors. Buckle up babes; might be a long, hot summer.

[flyingstripes]

@ecliipsed

Truth be told, Sam's never been much of a costume guy. Uniforms, too, much as he'd known they were protocol while he was still in service. Becoming Captain America comes with its own caveats-- like having to wear red, white, and blue when he's off on his bigger missions-- but there's a certain comfort in just being Sam Wilson, sometimes. He'll never regret picking up the shield, but it's good to return to his roots once in a while: being a normal guy who just wants to help.

And in the moment, it's Sam Wilson driving a van full of mutant kids and their parents north to the Canadian border.

They've occupied and left two safehouses since leaving Atlanta. Though the Avengers don't need to be on the run like they had before, offering lodging to mutants needing refuge is a worthy enough cause to make sure those safehouses are always ready. The last safehouse until the final stretch to Canada is just outside New York state, and by now they're about fifteen minutes away.

"That contact you mentioned," Sam starts, regarding Eclipse in the passenger seat, "what time did you say we had to meet them tomorrow evening?"

He's already thinking about driving schedules in his head, trying to mentally map out routes for them to take. Redwing, ever the dutiful little mech, keeps Sam updated on any potential threats that might be approaching or ahead of them-- they've dodged every bullet so far, though, and he prays that luck only keeps on.

Some people might laugh thinking Captain America's become relegated to the status of personal chauffeur. But as he glances in the rearview mirror, seeing sleeping children leaning against their rightfully paranoid parents, he knows he's doing the right thing.

There's no reason for them to be suffering this. None at all.

"I'm thinking I'll drop you folks off at the safehouse and head into the city to buy last minute supplies for them." He has no doubt Eclipse can protect them on his own, especially with Redwing to run surveillance. "And... well, whatever I can afford for your people, too. For you to take back to Atlanta."