#the southern river band

[highways-are-liminal-spaces]

Sunrise along the Mississippi River in southern Illinois

Taken June 2024

[1976desire]

bob dylan (performing with the band), mississippi river festival, southern illinois university, edwardsville, illinois, 1969. photos courtesy of the southern illinois university archives

[thamsesidevibe]

Bangers and Stache...

[13thpythagoras]

free my boy, the atchafalaya river

[herpsandbirds]

Comeback Cuckoo: Baba Ghanoush Returns to Audubon Kern River Preserve in California

Experimenting with tracking birds at finer spatial scales to better understand their migration routes and habitat use.

At Audubon Kern River Preserve—managed by Audubon California's Reed Tollefson, dedicated Southern Sierra Research Station (SSRS) researchers are making significant strides in understanding the elusive Western Yellow-billed Cuckoo. The team’s recent discoveries, featuring two Motus-tagged birds from the Kern River Valley, Baba Ghanoush and Stroopwafel, have provided invaluable insights into the migration routes of these secretive birds.  Earlier this year, Baba Ghanoush (originally captured, banded, and Motus-tagged on the Kern River Preserve) was detected on their northward migration by a Motus tower at the Mad Island Marsh Preserve in coastal Texas. They eventually made their way to the Audubon Kern River Preserve, where they spent much of the summer. This detection was particularly remarkable as it occurred exactly a year and a day after Stroopwafel, another Motus-tagged cuckoo from the South Fork Wildlife Area (SFWA), a riparian forest adjoining the Kern River Preserve, was detected at the same tower. The timing of these detections is helping to fill in more data about the migration routes and critical stopover areas, underscoring the importance of conservation areas all along their journey...

Read more: https://ca.audubon.org/news/comeback-cuckoo-baba-ghanoush-returns-audubon-kern-river-preserve-california

[whencyclopedia]

How Death Came into the World (Modoc Legend)

How Death Came into the World is a legend of the Modoc nation whose ancestral lands once covered the region of modern-day northeastern California and southern Oregon, USA. Their story of the origin of death shares many similarities with those of other Native peoples of North America as well as with the ancient Greek myth of Orpheus and Eurydice.

Pit River Valley, Modoc County, California

Robert F. Ettner (Public Domain)

The Modoc were 'discovered' by Euro-Americans c. 1820 in their ancestral lands of what is now southern Oregon and northern California. They are described by the American ethnographer James Mooney (l. 1861-1921) as a small band who were culturally isolated, which makes the similarities between How Death Came into the World and the Orpheus/Eurydice myth all the more interesting.

The Modoc had been living in the region for approximately 14,000 years before the arrival of the Euro-Americans but, by 1864, had been forcibly relocated to reservations, eventually two separate ones in the territories of modern Oklahoma and Oregon. They retained their stories, however, including How Death Came into the World, which is still told today.

The main character of the tale, Kumokums, is the Creator God of the Modoc (also known as Kemush, Kumokum, Kumush, Koomookumpts, Gmukamps) and his name is translated as "Old Man of the Ancients" or "Primeval Old Man", suggesting his existence from the beginning of time. In one version of the Modoc Creation Story, Kumokums travels to the Land of the Dead to select the spirits that would animate the people of four tribes of the region: the Shasta, the Warm Springs, the Klamath, and the Modoc. In How Death Came into the World, he again travels to the Land of the Dead but, this time, to bring back the spirit of his recently deceased daughter.

Native American Death Origin Myths

Native American origin myths concerning death are remarkably similar, even when the nations have had no known contact with each other prior to Euro-American contact and efforts to synthesize cultural beliefs as expressed in Native American literature. Scholar Larry J. Zimmerman writes:

Most accounts of the origin of death accept the logic that space is limited on Earth and room needs to be made for new life. On the whole, the afterlife is regarded as a place much like this one but with more game, corn, or whatever was prized…Almost all Indian peoples believed in some plane of existence beyond the realm of the living, but descriptions of the afterlife differed greatly, and the issue of what happens to the soul after death was a highly complex one for many tribes.

(246)

As Zimmerman notes, there was no doubt – for many, if not all Native American nations – that the soul survived physical death and went on to another realm, but that did very little to help a survivor deal with the grief of their loss. Native American origin myths concerning death tried to assist with that by explaining how death came to be and how even those responsible for the decision suffered the same grief at their loss.

The basic paradigm involves a figure of some degree of authority who makes a decision concerning mortality, then loses someone close to them, and wishes to reverse their earlier judgment – but, once the choice has been spoken into existence, it cannot be taken back.

Modoc Harvest Diorama

Michael Barera (CC BY-SA)

The Kiowa of the Plains Indians culture have a similar tale, sometimes given as How Death Came into the World and sometimes as Why the Ant is Almost Cut in Two, which follows this same model. In that story, the trickster figure Saynday (well-known from the Saynday tales) interacts with Red Ant as they discuss mortality and Saynday's concept of resurrecting the dead after four days. Red Ant rejects his proposal, claiming there are already too many living things on the earth and death is necessary to make room for those yet to be born or already living. Saynday agrees with her and decrees death as the final chapter of life on earth but, when Red Ant's son is killed, her grief is so intense she tries to kill herself, wishing she could have back what she had lost.

The Shoshone (Shoshoni) nation has a similar tale in which the central characters are Wolf and Coyote. Wolf suggests that death should be only a temporary state, which one could return from if the living enact a certain ritual that includes shooting an arrow beneath the deceased. Coyote rejects this plan, noting that there would then be too many of the living and resources would be spread too thinly. Wolf accepts Coyote's suggestion and decrees death as a permanent state, but when Coyote's son is killed, he comes to Wolf and asks that the decision be reversed. Wolf then reminds him that it was Coyote himself who insisted on death as a permanent state and that decision cannot now be altered.

Other Native American nations have similar origin stories for death, but the Modoc tale is unique in that it also provides an explanation of why the people had winter and summer camps, how their calendar was devised, and a detailed description of the Land of the Dead.

The story is also of interest to anthropologists, historians, and literary scholars for its similarity to the story of Orpheus and Eurydice from Greek mythology, which makes it stand out; as scholar Alice Marriott phrases it, "the Orpheus-Eurydice theme is unusual in North American Indian mythology" (190). There is no known record of interaction between the Modoc and anyone who would have known the Orpheus/Eurydice tale prior to contact between the Modoc nation and Euro-Americans, and How Death Came into the World is understood to pre-date that time as it seems to have already long been a part of the Modoc oral literary tradition.

Continue reading...

[heartilywrites]

Hey! I love your Korra x reader fanfics! I was wondering if you can do one about how Korra proposes to the reader with a betrothal necklace!

،، 𝓛over is a Day ; Korra

request guide | masterlist

resume: Korra thinks is time to make the big step in the relationship.

content warning: fluff, but like a LOT of fluff ; comfort ; Korra x fem!reader ; established relationship ; no nation nor bending status mention ! (but it is mention that r is not from the water tribe) ; kataang mention <3 ; no use of y/n

wc: 2.2k

a/n: + “Korra x reader reunited after 3 years”, I was so tempted to use Bruno Mars' "marry you" for the title–. Thank you for your words and the request 🥺 ENJOY, LOVE :D

“ The birds gonna make the wedding bed and the trees gonna lay the wedding table and the rivers gonna give us the wedding bands.

One might describe marriage as a way of making official a relationship in front of the law, for others it could mean an exchange of interest, but Korra has always had the idea of marrying for love.

Her parents had always said if it was on her plans to marry someone she needed to do it for love and not as an obligation and Korra was surrounded with true love stories her whole life so she wouldn't settle for less. And neither would you.

Meeting the avatar during her probending days could be the best thing to happen to you, in your words. You've been in the girl's life since then, in the bad such as in the good and great and she was forever grateful with you for your company; having you take the first step by asking Korra on a date after the championship and Amon's whole mess was cleared and after that it was all in color pink for you. She had this unique way of making you feel like she was your first love, always having butterflies in your stomach, giggling like a teenager, captivating every ounce of attention you had and making you deliver all the love you could ever produce in a silver tray just for her.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “This is my girlfriend!” Korra introduced you cheerfully to her parents. You could feel your face burn.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “It's so good to meet you finally, Korra has been telling us so much about you.” Senna walked to you, taking your hands in hers and giving you a comforting smile.

Tonraq looked at the interaction with a serious face, making you feel nervous from your toes to your crown, you offered him a crooked smile before doing a small bow.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “It's such an honor to meet you both,” you started taking a step back, your hands were behind your back while you moved them agitated. “Korra also told me about you and I'm so glad I get to meet the two people who raised such spectacular woman.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “What kind of intentions do you have with my daughter?” your girlfriend slapped her forehead and Senna shook her head.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Just the purest, sir!” you were quick to respond before Korra could say anything. “I love your daughter, I wouldn't do anything to hurt her.”

The avatar looked at you astonished, neither of you had said 'I love you' to the other by that point and it made her blush how you were the first one to do so in front of her parents. The couple began to smile big and embrace you in a hug before welcoming you to the family, Korra joined later on.

If there was someone who could keep the avatar grounded was you. When things get tough and she needs someone for reassurance, Korra always looks for you first, it doesn't matter how the time is or if she has everyone on her shoulder asking for an answer. She was repeatedly at your door, wanting to spend time together either for you to give her advice or just looking for you to distract her from the outside world.

And you always followed her everywhere she wanted you to go, at least that was before she decided to return to the Southern Water Tribe alone after her last battle against Zaheer.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I'm sure this will be for the best, love,” you whispered, kneeled in front of her, her eyes looked tired and dark circles surrounded them. They had lost that characteristic brightness you loved. “You will get better, I can go visit–.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “No, no,” she said hoarsely abruptly, taking you back. “I need to do this alone, I... I'll write to you.”

And that was the last time you talked to her face to face. The next months everything was purely written, you would try to not look desperate in your letters, but always remembered her how much you missed and loved her and how you were waiting for her.

And after the first year, the letters got fewer, Korra had written how powerless she felt and you would write her back to don't give up, how healing sometimes took more time than expected.

At her third year gone, six months in, she stopped writing. It took you by surprise, but you thought maybe the therapy was taking more from her day, you would reunite with your other friends as much as you could.

When the airbender kids got her back from the swamp, everyone was so secretive about her return to you, you didn't even know how Tenzin's kids went to look for her. That day Asami had ask you to meet for lunch, almost like everyday, and when you arrived you saw the girl, Mako and the one monarch that was supposed to be king, in front of them there was a silhouette you knew like the back of your hand.

Asami greeted you with an excited smile and the avatar turned, a little bit scared to see you. Her heartbeat went crazy when her eyes met yours; there you were, the woman she had on her mind ever since leaving the city, the only one who could make the avatar nervous to the point that she felt like she was dreaming once more about meet again with you. Slowly she stood up from her seat and walked up to you, you were teary-eyed at her sight.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Darling, I–” she tried to talk, being interrupted by your arms around her in such an impatient hug which she reciprocated.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “You're okay, thanks the spirits,” your voice was trembling, her heart broke at that. “I got so scared when you didn't write back those six months, I thought something happened to you or maybe you didn't want nothing to do with me anymore.” you were talking so fast, but Korra was able to understand everything.

She embraced the hug and shook her head. “Never think that, I'm so sorry for leaving you in the dark so long, I needed to find myself again and... I'm just glad to be back here with you.”

You went to seat with the group to catch up, being met with interruptions at the kidnapping of the monarch. After that tiny reunion, everything felt back in place, you both felt as if a very important part of you was back even if you were in war with a crazy leader wanting to take Republic City by force, you were there and that was all that matter to Korra.

When everything was over, Korra had asked you on a date night before Varrick and Zhu Li's wedding that same day. Her hand was playing with the jewelry she had carved herself with such pride in her hand opposed to you while the two of you were walking.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “That's such a beautiful necklace.” Katara had said looking over Korra's shoulder, the avatar stopped and looked back at her with a smile, showing better the jewelry to her.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “You think so?” The older woman nodded with a smile back at her. “Do you think she would like it?”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I'm sure she will,” she answered. “And I'm also sure she will say yes.”

Korra blushed while smiling and nodded. “I hope she does...” her eyes wandered back to the necklace. “Maybe we are too young.”

The master waterbender giggled a little bit. “You know, Aang gave me a betrothal necklace too when we were around your age.” Korra's eyes shot surprised back at the woman who shrugged. “When you feel like the time is right everything comes easy after, the universe ends up working at your favor. If you're sure she is the one, take the step, you won't regret it.”

‍ ‍ ��� ‍‍ “Honey, are you okay?” you asked pulling her out of her thoughts afterwards. You both were now sitting at the edge of the circle that surrounded the spirit portal, she looked at you.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Yeah, sorry, I was just thinking.” she brushed it off, your gaze went back to the portal, your eyes shining with its light and Korras eyes were fixated on you.

She was sure of her next step, it was a big step for sure, but she wanted to do it with you. You had been by her side all this time despite anything, her parents loved you, her friends loved you, she loved you in such a way that felt crashing, but at the same time it felt like it was right. You'd never let her down and she tried to never do it to you either.

If anyone asked her at that moment how she saw herself in the next five years, Korra would say with such confidence how she saw her and you together. Waking up to you by her side, coming home to you, being able to introduce you around as her wife, the love of her life.

Your face turn her way when you heard her voice call your name. “I... I don't know how to begin this,” she confessed giggling nervous. “I guess I should first thank you for always staying by my side and never leaving me, even when I disappeared that long, you waited for me...”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I would always wait for you,” your hand took the one she wasn't hiding. “It doesn't matter how long it takes.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “And I love you for that, you have no idea how much.” even if you were confused about why she was saying all that now, you smiled to her. “I want to be with you every single day of my life, you're the love of my life, my light that guides me in the darkest of places, my rock were I can find rest when the tide is being harsh with me, the reason I keep going and want to be better for.”

You opened your mouth to ask why she was saying all that, but just as if she could read you, her other hand showed the betrothal necklace and your eyes widened. You knew what it was, even if you weren't from the water nation, you knew about it; back when Eska asked Bolin –or claimed him– in marriage you had asked Korra about it.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “A betrothal necklace,” she answered raising her eyebrows at the sight of her friend. “In my nation, when you want to ask someone in marriage you gift them a necklace for them to wear.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “I see,” you nodded looking at the earthbender and then back again at her. “Ours should be better.” you had said in a joking way.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Way better, it will represent how I can't live without you.” the girl hugged you with a little of strength that made you laugh and start a new topic.

The necklace you were looking at was the most gorgeous one you have ever laid eyes on. Korra had carved the moon and ocean spirits in their fish form, your eyes started to tear at the memory and the significance of the jewelry in it.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Marry me,” she blurted out, her hands were shaking a little bit, but with your blurry sight you couldn't see it. “Be my wife, I want you to be with me our whole lives, I want to tell everyone that you're my wife, I want you to be part of my family... Officially.” small sobbing sounds were heard from you. “Allow me to be the one to care for you in sickness and in health, until death do us apart.”

You needed to take a moment to breath in deep so your voice could be clear to her but your head nodding with excitement. “I do! I accept! Yes!” you said once you calmed and threw yourself to her give her such sweet and thirsty kiss almost as if you have never kissed her before.

It took feeling your lungs burning asking for air to separate you both. After straightening back up in your seats, Korra had put the necklace on you and when you turned around to show her she smiled big at the sight of you. It was way better than when she dreamed about her proposal, to her eyes you looked like a goddess under the moonlight that was beginning to shower around you both.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Spirits, you look so gorgeous.” she said like she was out of breath. “I think we should go get ready for the wedding. I'm so going to presume our engagement to everyone.”

Your ears felt warm and you giggled while shaking your head. “I think I need to look in my wardrobe for a dress that would look good with the necklace, fiancee.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Shit, that sounds like a dream,” Korra took your hand to start walking back to your apartment to get ready, you laughed. “Say it again.”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Fiancee?” you heard your girlfriend let out a tiny scream before holding you in a hug.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Someone will have to kick me out from the wedding, I will never shut up about it, fiancee.” she said making you laugh harder. “Who do you think would be the most surprised one?”

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍‍ “Wu, probably.” you answered. You knew everyone was going to take the news with the same excitement, it was going to be a fun night.

[swiftviolets]

saints album commentary. whatever!

she’s the one

literally just this song. word for word

the rivers still callin’

its male angst shortened to under 3 mins. its still mostly upbeat but the lyrics are basically about being held back from your aspirations dreams etc and feeling like you’ll never break free from being stuck in a rut

gone gone

essentially a break up song from a male pov. girl has been unfaithful dancing with other guys and what not and breaks up with said guy and he’s upset and he misses her

hazy

song is about being unsure of where you are in life. like the world is going but you’re not going with it and like you’re stuck someplace and you can’t fully settle. it was written by dale so it definitely has personal aspects to it (i.e. him being from california and not fully integrating with southern culture). the song is loosely inspired by the beach boys song i just wasn’t made for these times

my obsession

cover of this rolling stones song. i think the band would do the cover justice and would tweak it so it would be more true to the their sound

your place or mine?

basically a song about a guy who just wants to smash. guy pines after a girl he see’s from ‘across the room’ and is just thinking with his peepee. probably the most suggestive song on the album.

tryin’ to mess my mind

literally this song. also by the same group that did she’s the one. i just think both of those songs are how i imagine the saints would sound <3

shot in the dark

just a song about some guy who is nervous about approaching some girl and asking her out. song is kind of about how when andy first saw lori he was scared to ask her on a date lol

whiskey eyes

this is THEE lori song. like it is a love song to her. called whiskey eyes cause of her eye colour and how it matches some colours of whiskey <3 andy actually wrote this like a year prior to the album releasing and he would only ever sing it if she was watching the band play lol. dale was soooo against this song being on the album lol

things i should have said

basically its a song about some guy who liked a girl but didn’t tell her he liked her and she leaves him before he does and now he’s wallowing about how he should’ve told her how much she meant to him. kind of angsty actually. also kind of a slow song

four to one

this could be the stories theme song if it was actually real<3 song pov is from a guy who found out his girl is seeing multiple men besides him (sound familiar😏) and he’s upset. definitely some lyrical world play on odds/betting/gambling etc

house of the rising sun

self-explanatory. probably follows the same sound as the animals version but a little more upbeat and also not 4 minutes long <3

[unnoticedunawarestillhere]

How Could You?

“Mister Lawrence?”

I turned around, only to be met with my apprentice. He shuffled awkwardly, half of him hiding beneath the door. I then stared hard at my desk, letting out a sigh. Without meaning to, I dropped my book, music sheets spilling onto the floor. The yellowing papers swept up dust on the floorboards, I only narrowed my eyes at this. “What do you want, Johnny?” I muttered, kicking off my chair to retrieve the papers. I heard him slowly cracking my office door wide open and taking a few steps in.  Bending down, my hands furiously grabbed the scattered papers. I didn’t look at him. “Sorry to interrupt, but the band is waiting for you.” He said meekly. His British accent caught me off guard. I stood up, carelessly plopping the bundle of papers on my desk. I turned to him, an eyebrow raised. Today, he was dressed in a pale blue vest, buttoned up white collar shirt and brown slacks. I groaned, “Can’t they just warm up right now?” He hesitated, before he spoke, “They’ve been doing that, but..they’re getting impatient.” He nervously blew his light chestnut hair out of his face. I gritted my teeth, resisting the urge to yell. “Then tell them to wait.” I growled. Johnny frowned, avoiding eye contact with me. In a small voice he responded, “You said that…two hours ago.” Silence. 

I stormed through the vacant hallways, not even waiting for Johnny. Posters were plastered every four feet it seemed. With their cartoonish style, they all stared at me and smiled. This only fed my annoyance. The lights above me flickered and buzzed, making my shadow grow long behind me.

 God, my head hurts. Even though my feet were slamming down on the creaky wooden boards, I could hear Johnny jogging after me. “Mister Lawrence, wait up! I’m sure we could make a compromise with the band, maybe even-” “ENOUGH.” I barked at him. Irritation makes a nest inside my brain. Though, deep down, I do feel a little guilty. Trying to simmer down, I cleared my throat. “Johnny, is your brother already in his booth?” I asked, making a sharp left turn.  He hurried after, finally keeping up with my pace. “Last time I checked, yeah. Though, he was pretty mad that you didn’t show up.” I scoffed, rolling my eyes. Honestly, it felt like without me, the whole god damn music department would explode. “Tch-well, he better be there.” I huffed. 

Before Johnny could answer, I halted only to be met with a chattering river of musicians flooding out of the music department. Baffled, I yelled at one of the passing tuba players, Rick. “Mister Hoffleman! Where the hell are you-” With dark glaring green eyes, the middle aged man snapped at me, “Shut yer yap, Lawrence! It’s been two months of the same shit ya make us go through. Well, we’re tired of it.” He growled at me, his southern accent lacing his words. I recoiled back, almost stumbling into Johnny! If Johnny apologized, I couldn’t hear it. Not when my blood was roaring in my ears. I watched Rick stomp away, his brown suit jacket hanging from his shoulder.  I didn’t even notice that my jaw was hanging wide open, until Johnny quietly mentioned it to me.  I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t command them to stay. I just stood there, and while I did, lots of folks hissed complaints and glares at me when they passed by. Is this what it feels like? To be powerless? I don’t know why I’m so surprised. I’ve felt this before. When he left.

Turns out, Norman was still in his booth, packing up his projector. Even though the booth was mostly consumed by lingering shadows, we could hear him shuffling around.  I stared up at him, only for him to swing around and glare from above.  “Oh great, the all mighty composer finally arrived.” He said flatly, his dark grey eyes narrowing. With a grunt, he placed the metal projector on a rusted steel cart. “Polk, what happened?” I yelled, still looking up at the booth.  The shadows answered with another grunt, “Whaddya mean what happened, Lawrence? They’re fed up.” A pause. When I didn’t answer, he continued, “Look, I dunno what you’ve been doin these past months, but Jesus, can’t ya just compose the band ON TIME??  Some days, the doors are locked and no one can get in. Why? ‘Cause ya keep forgettin to unlock ‘em. Meaning WE can’t do what we need to do.” I felt my stomach tightened while my fists were clenched. “Can’t you just get Franks to unlock the damn door?” I retorted hotly. “Kid keeps forgettin his keys.” He replied with a monotone voice. I let out an exasperated sigh, feeling my nerves being shot left and right. Norman said nothing else and with that I turned around. I  watched Johnny struggling to gather all the music stands. Taking a deep breath, I walked over to him and helped him put them away in the storage room.  I didn’t say anything. Despite how clumsy or frantic this kid is, I didn’t hate him. He’s a good apprentice.

 Well, decent anyway. 

After stacking up the chairs and cautiously putting instruments in their cases, we were done. During that whole time, I didn’t mutter a word. I was too absorbed in my thoughts.  Was working with Mister Drew on his project really making me digress  from what needs to be done? Surely, I could balance them both. Right? No. I couldn’t and today proved that. Bitter disappointment felt like a knife in my gut, wedging itself further and further in.  I felt something sting my eyes, rubbing them. Jesus, was I so powerless that I was having a stupid CRYING FIT?! I muttered something to myself, when suddenly, I felt a gentle hand clamped on my shoulder. “It’s okay to cry, Mister Lawrence! It’s..it’s been a tough day, but..there’s always tomorrow!” Johnny exclaimed, his eyes brightening.  I stared at him for a moment, actually looking at him. His face looked similar to Normans, same nose, and structure.  Light chestnut hair with streaks of dark brown while his eyes..well. One was dark grey, like Norman, but his other eye was a dark auburn.  Wasn’t that called.. Heterochromia? I think that's what it's called.

Anyhow, he just smiled at me sympathetically.  Without thinking, I smiled back at him.  “I..suppose you’re right.” I said, nodding curtly. He slipped his hand off my shoulder and walked over to the piano. “So, about that music sheet you sent me home with yesterday, I practiced it and I think I got it?” He smiled, sitting down on the chair and straightening his composure.  I was stunned. He practiced it? Hell, I didn’t even tell him to do that. Though, of course, I was skeptical.  I pulled up a stool and gestured for him to start. He cracked his fingers, staring down at the keys and gave it his all. There were a few slip ups, but I was impressed at how beautiful the melody was. And how Johnny was so focused on the piece. When he was done, he paused, before hesitantly turning his head to look at me.  I stood up from my wooden stool and placed my hand on his shoulder. “Good work.” I praised, smiling at him slightly. 

I swear his eyes lit like bright stars. I was proud of him. Even though I failed the band, I didn’t fail him.  Until…I did. 

It’s been a few months since that moment. 

I looked at my shaking right hand, a smoking pistol was tightly in my grasp. 

Oh Johnny. I’m so sorry.

I’m 

      So

               Sorry

[southwest-pottery-bracket]

A crash course in some vocabulary

Archaeology, like all sciences, has a lot of specialized jargon we use to talk about pottery. To make sure everyone’s on the same page, here’s a list of some common terms I’ll be using, what they mean, and how to pronounce them.

~ 🏺🏺🏺 ~

Ware: A broader term for a technological/cultural tradition in pottery. Typically, construction method, color, clay type, temper type, and paint type are what defines a “ware.” So Chuska Gray Ware is unslipped, usually unpainted gray clay with crushed black basalt temper. Roosevelt Red Ware is red-slipped clay with sand temper and carbon-based paint. Hohokam Buff Ware is unslipped or cream-slipped buff-colored clay with coarse sand temper, created using a paddle-and-anvil forming method and painted with red paint.

Type: Within a ware, a type is a more narrowly specific decorative style. Roosevelt Red Ware has multiple types within it, such as Salado Red (unpainted red-slipped), Pinto Black-on-red (black paint on the red in a specific radially symmetric interlocked hatched-and-bold pattern), Pinto Polychrome (same decorative style but on a white-slipped interior field), Gila Polychrome (red exterior, white-slipped interior, a usually-broken black band around the rim, black painted designs in a two- or -four-fold symmetry), Tonto Polychrome (bolder and less symmetric black-and-white designs on a red field), Cliff Polychrome, Dinwiddie Polychrome, Nine Mile Polychrome… different stylistic variations on the Roosevelt Red Ware technological/visual core. You can read more about categorizations here.

A note on naming conventions: Pottery in this archaeological tradition tends to have a two-part name: a location where it was first defined and described, and a colorway. Wares tend to be “[Broad location or broad cultural group] [Color] Ware”; types tend to be “[Specific site] [paint color]-on-[clay color].” So within Tusayan White Ware is Flagstaff Black-on-white.

———

Gila: A river in southern Arizona and a bit of New Mexico, and a lizard and a polychrome type named after it. Pronounced hee-la.

Hohokam: An archaeological term for a Native American cultural group that lived in southern Arizona and northern Sonora, defined by traits like red-on-buff pottery, massive canal systems for field irrigation, and platform mounds. It comes from the O'odham-language word huhugham, “ancestors.” They are the ancestors of the modern Tohono O’odham and Akimel O’odham people (it’s a little bit more complicated than that but that’s basically the case.)

Mogollon: An archaeological term for a Native American cultural group from central New Mexico, eastern Arizona, and northern Chihuahua. Most iconic trait is the elaborate range of corrugated and smudged pottery. Named after the Mogollon Rim, the geological formation that marks the edge of the Colorado Plateau and a drastic change in geology and climate in the northern Southwest and the southern Southwest. Along with the Ancestral Pueblo, the Mogollon culture are ancestors of modern southern Rio Grande and Zuni pueblos. Pronounced moh-guh-yon.

Olla: A water jar with a wide body and narrow neck. Pronounced oy-ya.

Polychrome: Pottery that is three or more colors (poly+chrome), most often meaning red, white, and black.

A Tonto Polychrome olla. Southeastern Arizona, 1350-1450.

Pueblo: A collective term for Native people of the Southwest US (particularly in the Rio Grande river watershed, but also Hopi and Zuni) who share cultural traits and history—most immediately notably, a tradition of living in square adobe houses in large villages, which are also each called pueblos. Ancestral Pueblo is the term for the archaeologically-defined cultural group that share these similar traits and are, generally, from the northern half of New Mexico and Arizona, and a southern strip of Colorado and Utah. The Ancestral Puebloans were formerly called “Anasazi” but that has fallen out of favor due to pushback from modern Pueblos. Also, each modern Pueblo prefers to be called a Pueblo rather than a tribe in most cases—so you say the Pueblo of Acoma, the Pueblo of Ohkay Owingeh, Picuris Pueblo, Taos Pueblo, the Pueblo of Zuni, etc.

Temper: Non-clay bits that are added to natural clays to make them easier to work with. When you buy clay from a store now, it’s already mixed and processed and ready to use. When you find clay out in nature, it’s almost never so easy. Typically, you have to mine/harvest clay from riverbanks or cliffsides, and it’s hard and dried; then you have to grind the hard clay up into fine particles, and mix them with water. But natural clays are often puddly and don’t always hold together well, so you add temper, something hard and grainy to make your wet clay stick together more easily and make it good to work with! Temper can be sand, ground-up rock, ground-up shell, or even ground-up bits of other broken pottery. What different people used as temper is one defining feature of a pottery ware and pottery tradition.

Sherd: A broken bit of pottery. NOT shard. When it’s pottery, it’s “sherd.”

Slip: Very runny wet clay. It’s used to help attach clay pieces together, but more pertinently here, plain-colored pots are covered with an even layer of bolder-colored clay slip to get the desired color pot.

Smudging: A decorative style that potters made during the firing stage. They would have open pit-fires for firing their pottery, and cover the desired part of the pot with a layer of charcoal or ash. This creates a carbonized, reducing environment—that is, a lot of carbon, and little oxygen. This creates a smooth, inky black finish on the completed pot.

A Starkweather Smudged bowl. Mogollon, western New Mexico, AD 900-1200.

Vessel: Another word for pot, basically. Means a ceramic container of some sort. Bowls, jars, ladles, pitchers, mugs, etc are all vessels; effigies and statuettes are not.

[noneatnonedotcom]

The life and time of Nickolous Arc knight of Pitton

a continuation of Jaune's family line, this is a little bit before the reign of Uther Pendragon. Last time we left off Great Grandpa Arc was killed in the night of long knives by the treacherous saxions and Vortigern. his son Nickolous was knighted and inherited the manor at Pitton he married very well and won himself the daughter of a duke in 464.

Year 465 Vortigern, with his Saxons, marches back and forth across Britain, extracting tribute and plunder. Many more Britons flee the land. Nickolous, a young knight, remains in his lands, tends to his manor, and waits with his lord. Vortigern takes refuge in Gomeret, attempting to build a fortress. The youthful Merlin makes his appearance and begins his career here.

Years 466–467 Aurelius Ambrosius, son of the former King Constantin and brother of Constans, lands in Hampshire with an army from Brittany. He carries a great banner with a red dragon upon it. All across the land, discontented nobles muster their armies and join him. Vortigern seeks to escape, but his Saxon allies go back home to Kent, and many other allies desert him. After besieging a portion of Vortigern’s army at Carlion, Aurelius Ambrosius marches through the entire island, accepting the submission of those loyal to Vortigern.

Nickolous fought and died gloriously in this battle earning himself 1000 glory leaving behind a widow and a three-year-old son. (oof tough luck but at least he went out well.) his son Roland Arc would live through the following events without the protection and care of a father. Year 468

Aurelius Ambrosius and his army pursue Vortigern and besiege him in his new castle on Mount Snowdon. A battle ensues, at which Vortigern is killed and his army scattered. Aurelius Ambrosius summons the High Council, and they elect him High King. He takes the title of Pendragon (“high dragon” or “head dragon”), derived from his great battle banner.

Years 469–472 Many Saxons come over from the Continent and settle in Kent under their king, Hengest. High King Aurelius Ambrosius maintains an unsteady peace with the Saxons, Irish, and Picts, despite their raiding. His younger brother, Uther, makes a name for himself as a great warrior in countering these raids and leading picked warriors on raids into enemy territory.

Year 473 The Saxons, confident of victory, march into the Thames Valley. King Aurelius Ambrosius raises an army to resist, but loses the battle in a major Saxon victory

Year 477 Another Saxon king, Ælle, lands in southern Britain with a large army and takes over the area. Many of the peasants flee, but others are captured and enslaved. Ælle renames the land South Saxony, or Sussex. Aurelius Ambrosius marches with his army to oppose the foe, who is reinforced at the last moment by the Saxons from Kent. Ambrosius is lucky to escape with his army. The Saxons remain.

Years 478–479 For years, Aurelius Ambrosius has been building a fleet of ships in the ports of his western lands. In this year, he musters his army and sets sail, sweeping around the southern coast, where he destroys the fleets of the Saxons in Britain. Then he sails to the Continent, destroying all the hostile shipping as he goes. The British army lands in Frisia, doing great damage to the Saxons there, and winning a battle against the barbarians. The Saxons in Britain begin vicious raiding in retaliation.

Year 480 An army of Saxons sails up the Port River into Salisbury. While planning for the battle, Aurelius Ambrosius is poisoned by a false doctor. Despite his illness, Ambrosius marches with Uther against the enemy, whom they meet at Menevia. Ambrosius confronts the foe while Uther takes his army around to the Saxons’ rear and cuts them off from their ships, attacking them with great vigor. It is a great victory for the British, but Ambrosius is killed in the fighting.

Years 481–483 The Saxons are relatively quiet during this time, with small bands raiding here and there but no armies marching. It is reported that many of their women and children have now settled in their lands.

Year 484 Another wave of Saxons arrives by boat and settles in the land of Deira. Aided by the Saxons in Britain and some rebellious northern Britons, they attack in the land of Malahaut. Their army defeats the northern defenders, then lays siege to the city of Eburacum. King Uther raises his army and hastens northward to join the battle. However, King Uther, anxious to relieve the sorry inhabitants of Eburacum, is drawn into a trap and fights a desperate battle, from which he barely escapes with great loss.

Year 485 King Uther suffers heavy losses and raises many troops to make up for it. He orders all squires who are ready to muster at Windsor Castle to be knighted.

Roland Arc is knighted and entitled to Pitton in this year. having grown up without a father he is anxious to prove the family name. his family's naturally loveable trait goes a long way to getting him a good wife, one he meets at the feast for his knighting ceremony. due to the glory inherited from his father Roland starts with a glory of 1255 he meets Lady Juniper a woman beautiful beyond measure and through the feast courts her and flirts with her, their whirlwind romance is the stuff of legends and wins Roland even greater glory just through his actions at the feast to woo her. Lady Juniper was the beautiful heiress of a knight Named Hector (on a scale of 1-20 her appearance is a 28, she rolled very well) . a wealthy Vassle knight to the Earl of Salisbury who died in the battle of Eburacum last year. from his marriage, he gains two new manors and six librum (the gold coinage at the time) the new manors are Ford and Long Hedge, the three manors all fall along the road from Sarum to Camalot. Ford and Long Hedge are on the road's south and north sides along a river, respectively. this combination of manors gives the Arc family almost absolute command over trade tariffs moving between the two cities making them very rich. Roland gains 300 glory not just for the marriage but a further 10 glory every year for the beauty of his wife being known far and wide and 80 glory for the feast in which he wooed her and a further 100 glory for the wooing itself which became the standard for all love stories in the Earldom moving forward. still, not all was well within the realm for though love had found a champion in Roland and Juniper, war would take its due. Uther called forth the newly minted knights and did battle with the saxions all summer. in the battle Roland rode in the second line of knights to the right flank against the Saxon host acquitting himself well on the first charge, and on the second as well. A third time, he wheeled about and crashed into the host! the fourth he crashed through the line shattering the axemen and finding himself behind the enemy center! (rolled a crit on his lance skill) seeking out the enemy leader he found the king surrounded by his guards. only one stepped forth to oppose him and so did the duel commence between the two as the battle raged around them! dismounting and leaving behind his lance Roland did draw his sword and recklessly attacked! He cleaved through the enemy's axe and cut the dog in Twain! (modified crit from reckless attack) but another stepped forth to oppose him! the two matched each other trading blows that their chainmail only barely stopped.

throwing aside all thought of safety Roland recklessly attacked once more and the enemy did slip on the blood of his companion Roland claimed another as he lay on the mud! the enemy chief and his remaining protectors stepped forth rushing the knight, he called upon his passions for strength. his love of his wife told him to make it home, his loyalty to his liege told him to win glory and his hatred of the Saxons told him to cut the monsters down. it was hard fought, but Roland knew that he could only survive by being more clever than the enemy who outnumbered him. time and time again sword and shield met axe as Roland danced around his three enemies seeking an opening, but none would present itself. the sounds of battle began to fade as without the leadership of their chief the Saxons grew fearful and routed.

as the chief turned to run, though, Roland found his moment and surged forth, striking true against the king though failing to finish the job, the chief did forever more have the mark of Roland's blade across his eye.

though Roland was felled in the next moment as the guards of the war chief did strike his back, his armor absorbed the worst of the blows and the Cyrmic host did come to save their champion. roland would spend the next year in the care of his beloved wife, healing from his battle. he would be known as Roland the King Scar from hence forth. the first of his many daughters would be born that year though and a fear would take root in Roland, a fear that he would leave his family orphaned and alone without him. he would hold back from seeking glory from henceforth though he would serve honorably for King Uther. from the battle itself, Roland won a further 50 glory for his actions on the flank. 200 from the dead guards of the war chief, and a fantastic 500 from the scar he left on the Chief. 2495 glory in his first year as a knight is nothing to sneeze at, and while he would never again do such fantastic feats of martial prowess and his love of his wife would prevent him from earning more acclaim for his family's lovable nature the glory he would win from simply being a loyal knight would gain him the status of a renowned knight throughout the land. he would stir up controversy when he would try to prevent his own son from squireing some years later for fear that his beloved son might perish but such things are for the next story. levels for knights

Glory Quality of Knight 1–999 Squire 1,000–1,499 Unproven Knight 1,500–2,999 Respected Knight 3,000–3,999 Notable Knight 4,000–7,999 Renowned Knight 8,000–15,999 Famous Knight 16,000–31,999 Extraordinary Knight 32,000+ Legendary Knight (there was a lot of consistent glory won by Roland but in small amounts, his desire to protect and care for his family meant that he would never again take up such a key role willing to let others take the risk to gain greater glory, though as a knight he would fight many more times he just opted out of chances to do the extraordinary. he'd still manage to get up to 4000 glory by the time of jaune's birth and ironically send him to act as a page in the same manor Arthur would be squireing ending up with jaune becoming squire to a king) @howlingday you mind giving me your thoughts on Roland? I was trying to go for a character that jaune would be comparing himself to all his life but who actually wishes he was less well known and who after the death of his own father wants only to be a good dad to his children (though he tends to let his fear get the better of him) @weatherman667 would you mind letting me know how I did with the prose for the later half of the story? I was trying to mimic Le Mort De Arthur and I'm not sure how I did. @thatorigamiguy check it lol.

@heliosthegriffin more king arthur shit what you think?

also for everyone. if you got ideas on what the rwby characters would be doing in this au let me know. Arthur will be Artoria from fate btw although no one will know. at least not for a good long while

[julianhuxley]

Chanting Hawk and Many-Banded Sparrow Hawk from Mosita and Maritsani River, British Bechuanaland (now Botswana).

Source: H. Anderson Bryden, Gun and Camera in Southern Africa (London: Edward Stanford, 1893).

[find-the-path]

Inklings Challenge 2024! My first story idea also went north out of the farthest sight so this is what we're going with. All dialogue (technically) so a lot of what I meant to put in is slightly off-screen. I think I do want to continue this though. @inklings-challenge

You asked for a tale and you’ll get one, don’t worry. Quiet now, this one’s true. There were once three brothers who lived in a bright kingdom down south. They were all moderately happy.

The eldest and most skilled with a sword longed for adventure in the north, where the kingdom used to stretch long ago. His gift was far-sight. On cloudy days he looked out east, south, west, north, and told stories of distant peoples to entertain his younger brothers.

The middle brother was the most practical of the three. His gift was swimming, as glad and airless as a fish. The whole family discovered that when he was three and the river was swollen, after much panic. His dream was to join the fleet of ships that patrolled the kingdom’s southern seas.

“---But he joined the pirates instead, and reformed the island blockade!”

What’s all this about pirates, all of a sudden? The royal navy fights the pirates, son, they don’t join them. That’d be counter-productive. Don’t interrupt the story.

The youngest, the quickest, hadn’t yet decided what he wanted to do. He had time, for his own gift had not yet become apparent.

In due time the eldest brother came of age and went off to seek his fortune. Northward, of course, as he’d always wanted. The lands were wide and empty to the north, save for small towns full of insular people and stretches of jagged mountains that the royal geologist had a personal grudge against.

He went past those mountains. Past the brown hills he found beyond them. Looking north, he saw clouds of mist obscuring the furthest stretched of his sight. In the company of a band of scouts he passed out of knowledge of homeland and family, and ceased to be heard of.

Years passed. The younger two brothers grew up and left the house, seeking their fortune afar. Rumors of war in the north grew louder. The king called his council to advise him on the matter, but what they discussed was not known in the kingdom, and the youngest brother chafed at the ignorance. The north had always held a mystery for him--- that of his brother’s death. They all assumed he was dead by now: a fairly intelligent assessment.

At last ten winters were gone by and the youngest brother was as grown as he was ever going to be. He decided he would go north himself, to discover what had the royal advisers in such disagreement, and also a hint of what had happened to the eldest.

He set out in autumn---

“But Papa, the middle brother! Did he go sailing? Did he fight the pirates?”

I don’t know if he ever went sailing, son. I suppose he might’ve found pirates but that’s not what this story is about yet.

“It’s your story, how can you not know?”

Yes, it’s my story, and it’s still being told. Shh and let me finish.

Just north of the capital the youngest brother found a caravan under attack, and helped fight off the mercenaries in return for information and dinner. He tracked the men who hired the bandits to a research town on the edge of the great forest, where he heard tell of a dragon set up in the mountains blocking his path. I can’t see the dragon, which mean it probably can’t see us, but there’s enough sources to look credible enough.

He’s trying to go around it now. If he gets across the moor--- and if that dragon doesn’t see him--- he might make it.

“But you said nobody’s got over the wall for ten years!”

Not since I did it, no. But my brothers... they’re another kind of stubborn. Your uncle’s coming, lad, and when he does we’ll be ready.

[scotianostra]

September 10th 1547 saw the Battle of Pinkie Cleugh.

Fought along the Firth of Forth near Musselburgh, southeast of Edinburgh, this battle is also sometimes called the Battle of Falside.

It marked the beginning of a new phase in the Rough Wooing, the sustained English attempt to compel the Scots to accept a marriage between their queen and the English king. The overwhelming English victory destroyed the main Scots field force, allowed the English to establish garrisons across southern Scotland, and brought the French into the war on the Scottish side.

When the Scottish Parliament refused to ratify the Treaty of Greenwich in December 1543, Henry VIII launched successive invasions of Scotland to force acceptance of the main provision of the treaty, the marriage of Mary Stuart, Queen of Scots, to Prince Edward, the future Edward VI. At Henry’s death in January 1547, the Scots remained defiant. Because of the king’s youth, control of the English government passed to Edward Seymour, Duke of Somerset, who, as the king’s eldest uncle, assumed office as lord protector. In Scotland, the government of the even more youthful queen was headed by James Hamilton, Earl of Arran, who worked in uneasy partnership with a pro-French party led by the queen mother, Marie de Guise.

In late August 1547, while massing a force of more than 16,000 on the border at Berwick, Somerset issued a proclamation to the people of Scotland reminding them of the 1543 agreement and of the history and geography they shared with the English. His army, he claimed, was coming not to threaten Scotland, but “to defend and maintain the honour of both the princes and realms” sounds like a previous King eh?!

Crossing the frontier on 31 August, the English marched along the coast toward Edinburgh, supported on their flank by a fleet under Edward Fiennes de Clinton, Lord Clinton. Moving swiftly, the English seized castles along their line of march and dispersed harassing bands of Scots. On 9 September, Somerset encountered the main Scottish force, 20,000 in number, holding a strong position along the river Esk.

Next morning, Somerset ordered his right wing to assault the Scottish line, thereby shifting the entire army toward the Forth and the protection of Clinton’s guns. Arran, in command of the Scottish force, misinterpreted the movement; he believed Somerset was trying to avoid an engagement by taking his men to the coast for embarkation on the fleet. Arran accordingly ordered the Scots to leave their well-prepared defences and attack.

Seeing the Scottish movement, Somerset halted his army and formed line of battle. The Scots, far inferior to the English in cavalry, had no cover for the flanks of their pikemen, the same bristling formations of spearmen that James IV had used so ineffectively at Flodden Field. Slowed by cavalry charges and broken by artillery, the Scottish formations disintegrated, and the battle degenerated into a slaughter as the English infantry pursued the fleeing Scots to the gates of Edinburgh.

While English losses numbered 500 to 600, the Scots, figures vary from 6 to 15 thousand, over 2,000 were captured.

Organised Scottish resistance ceased, and Somerset spent the following months securing southern Scotland by seizing strong points and establishing a web of English garrisons centred on the fortress at Haddington.

Thanks to French inducements- Arran, who was given the title Duke of Chatelherault-and the efforts of the queen mother, the Scots turned in this emergency to their ancient ally, France.

Concluded in July 1548, the Treaty of Haddington promised the Scots French military assistance in return for the marriage of their queen to the eldest son of Henri II. In late July, Mary was spirited into France, there to be raised at Henri’s court. Although a victory for English arms, Pinkie was a defeat for English policy, opening a decade of French dominance in Scotland and ensuring that the Scottish queen would become Catholic in religion and French in sympathy.

Pinkie Cleugh was the last pitched battle between Scotland and England. The Memorial to the battle is at Salters Road near Wallyford.

Members of the Old Musselburgh Club with the Pinkie Cleugh Battlefield Group will,as we I post this,, led by a piper, walk along the battlefield trail, starting from the Roman Bridge in Musselburgh. and meeting at the memorial stone in time for the commemoration at 1pm, where the laying of floral tribute and speeches are made.

Ian Wood, club treasurer, will read 10 of the names out of the 10,000 who lost their lives in the conflict, which will be followed by an act of remembrance.

Pics include a wood cut depiction of the battle from not long after it happened, “The Raising of The Fire Cross for the Assembly of the Highland Clans before the Battle, a depiction of the battle and two of the memorials to the battle, the second is a relatively new one showing two soldiers in combat.

[antifascistblackmetalnetwork]

Antifascist Black Metal Network today presents the Antifascist Solidarity Compilation, composed of Brazilian antifascist bands and put together by the collective Metal Sem Facho. It aims to raise money for MLB and CSP-Conlutas, organisations involved in the relief effort during the disastrous floods in Rio Grande do Sul, Brazil, in 2024. Releasing officially on the December 6th.

When some artists, activists and fans of various political tendencies started to organized the Metal Sem Facho ("Metal Without Fash") collective, we were profoundly bothered with the presence of fascists, misogynists, LGBTQIA+phobes, Zionists and other far-right scum inside heavy music, and the desire to do something to remove this presence and promote a more inclusive and left-oriented underground. Our first effort was organizing groups to debate politics and music, and we talked about and with countless bands, traded information about whom to avoid and who to publish, helped in virtual campaigns such as that against the presence of the accessories of genocide Armored Dawn in Tarja's tour of the USA, and a series of other things. 

However, we also want to fight the far-right in a more material and less musical dimension, bridging the heavy metal community and the struggles that happen in reality. We have many and deep differences between us, but we have some important common principles, among which are there is class solidarity: that is, the support, polical and material (as much as possible), to workers who are victims of polical brutality, mass layoffs, environmental catastrophes, etc. This compilation, which we hope will be the first of many, is on one hand an opportunity to bring attention to some bands that share these values with us, but it also intends to gather funds to help the organized social movements who are on the frontlines against of the biggest disasters in Brazil's history: the huge floods in the southern state of Rio Grande do Sul, which happened between late April and early May 2024.

The very same climate collapse we see expressed in the forest fires of Canada and Valparaiso of Chile, on the bizarre drought of the Amazon River and on the murderous heat across the world brought a absurd of rain, which led to floods that kept Rio Grande do Sul quite literally underwater for the better part of a month. The losses for the poor are incalculable: hundreds of people dead, hundreds of thousands of homes destroyed, millions of animals dead... and on the part of those responsible for all of this, the big businessmen, big farmers, the governments, the efforts to reparate the victims was insufficient in the best of cases. The floods in Rio Grande do Sul show, once again, that the exploited and the oppressed of this world have only theimselves as friends.

The groups we want to support, CSP-Conlutas and the MLB, are old friends of the Brazilian social movement. CSP-Conlutas is a antibureaucratic federation joining hundreds of trade unions, student and popular organizations who are independent from all governments and play an outstanding role in the organization and unification of struggles and strikes around the country. The Movimento de Lutas nos Bairros, Vilas e Favelas ("Movement of Struggles on Neighbourhoods, Villages and Slums") fights for urban reform and for the right to live with dignity. Both organizations are present around the country and have been exemplary in the fight against the first consquences of the catastrophe, be it organizing shelters, community kitchens and distributing free food and donations, be it organizing demonstrations, occupations and other forms of demanding the rights due to the homeless and affected. Both need help to keep the actions of solidarity and struggle, which have not ended and will probably become even more necessary considering the continuity of the climate collapse.

This compilation is a small sample of bands that are somehow involved with Metal Sem Facho, be it in the organization, in the rank-and-file groups, or just are solidary to our ideas. We have legends of the Brazilian underground, bands that play tours around the world, and newer groups/ we have black metal, death metal, grindcore, thrash, and other stuff, we have bands from the South, Southeast and Northeast regions, and from 10 different states of the country; we have bands with LGBTQIA+, black and female members. None of this is by coincidence, since fighting to open space for diversity is one of our principles - in fact, we think we are lagging behind in that sense, since we lack two regions of the country and the oppressed sectors are the minority in this compilation. We believe that heavy metal's place is on the side of the oppressed and exploited and without any type of "proletarian" reductionism like those operated by transphobes and "anti-identitarians" that sell themselves as leftists just to spread the very same disgusting conservatism of the far-right.

The arts of the cover and of the logo, made by our dear colleague Clark, give us a clue of what we want with this compilation: not only to bring antifascist solidarity to our comrades of Rio Grande do Sul, but also to raise high the black and red banners above the reactionary mud that tries to drown heavy metal... and metaphorically (or not), to drown in fascist blood our blades. Fear then, minions, ancaps and others of the same ilk, for this declaration is just the beginning of our war!