#So I'm absolutely forced to wear one of my vests or jackets just so I'm not carrying my phone n wallet around in my hand like a dork

[solradguy]

I wish I had more reasons to wear my belt pants but they're a pain in the ass to wash because I have to take the belts off and turn them inside out and then air dry them but maybe I should start just like wearing them around the house for no reason. To remind them that they're still loved

[neechees]

Hi! You don't have to answer this if you don't want to, that's totally fine! But you talking about Orville Peck's appropriation of indigenous culture with his fashion choices made me realize that I had never considered that there might be some aspects of "cowboy clothes" that white ppl shouldn't wear and that was super wrong of me. Again, you totally don't have to answer this, but I was just wondering what ways a white person could wear "cowboy clothes" in a manner that wasn't disrespectful? Or perhaps, should we not wear them at all? I can't afford T yet, but when I can finally get it I was planning on getting a cowboy outfit to embrace my trans mascness, but if that would be wrong of me I can scrap that plan no problem!

Ehhh again this is actually SUPER HARD to answer because almost everything about cowboy fashion & the cowboy "aesthetics" are lifted directly from Native American fashion and culture, either because a lot of cowboys back in the day were Native American themselves (including Afro-Natives & Indigenous Mexican vaqueros) or they were White & just kinda. stole the look from the Native cowboys due to a number of factors.

If you google "cowboy jewelry" the first thing that comes up is silverwork & belts & turquoise jewelry, which is taken from Navajo metalwork. Fringed leather clothing? Again, many Native tribes did that (& in some tribes the fringes could mean something, its not just for looks), most popularily with vests, jackets, and pants. A lot if the leather jackets were a result of Native women just sewing their clothes the same but in a European styled cut. Compare this "cowboy" look below to a Lakota war shirt: both have hair embellishments dangling from the arms.

Studded belts? Inspired by Cheyenne mirror belts, which often also have metal studs in them & you'll still see Native pow wow dancers have this in their regalia. Floral vests? A lot of the inspiration comes from Plains floral beadwork. Geometric patterns and blankets? Came from Southwest or Mexican Native American blankets & designs, ask any Navajo weaver & they'll tell you the same. Feathers in cowboy hats? Who else is famous for wearing feathers on their heads--? Native Americans. The look is still popular with older Native men.

Hell, if you visit this site that sells Western/cowboy fashion, you'll see a SHITTON of appropriation going on, taking Native imagery & designs, including one taken from Native American ledger art, all on White models.

The appropriation of Native culture and fashion in the cowboy/western sphere is ongoing, and the influence that Native fashion & culture has in Western/cowboy fashion as it is is absolutely MASSIVE. I once said in another post that the cowboy/western aesthetic essentially belongs to Native Americans, Latines (especially Mexicans), and Black people. And the history of White cowboys has been one largely of colonialism, racism, and displacement of Indigenous peoples, and the masculinity associated with White cowboys especially is also steeped into racism & American patriotism (think John Wayne. There's a reason he's an American icon who played cowboys & killing Indians in films.). I think the only thing that isn't influenced from either appropriation or colonization is like, jeans. Even the style of cowboy boots themselves and potentially chaps were influenced from vaqueros.

So if you're White I'm not sure that'd exactly be a good route to take because trying to seperate Indigenous elements from this fashion/look (nevermind the problematic history of White cowboys) is almost impossible. Obviously I can't force you to do anything, but honestly if I were you, I'd try a different direction, because otherwise I think you'll find trying to do this will be very hard.

[mmani-e]

Another post! This time featuring what the antagonists for my AU might look like. While Akane and Nekomaru are locked in the rest is up to changes in the future. Kyoko and Celestia were put on a poll but the results I believe I didn't set up properly, so now I'm amending that somewhat. I drew both sets in these sketches, and when enough time has passed I'll set up another poll, properly this time on strawpoll.

As for some design explanations and lore you can check under the cut :)

Kyoko and Makoto I believe are pretty straightforward here, I gave Kyoko a neckerchief that goes pretty far down to give her that sort of upper class educated look, while Makoto I gave a smart little jacket. There's only so far you can go with the normal boy, but I also made his hair fluffier and nicer. His ahoge is there but it's normally combed back, and only springs to full life when he's in murder mode.

Kyoko joined her dad in leaving the tradition of detective work behind and entered the business world where she used her analytical mind to be the best damn stock investor in the world, while definitely something she excels at it's not something she finds particularly fulfilling.

Makoto is a wholesome, normal dude who loves writing books about wholesome stories with good endings, while his family was and still is normal, he was captured once by unscrupulous scientists wanting to explore Despair and its mysterious qualities. Makoto never gave in, but in his suffering developed an alter ego who was grimly invested in justice above all else.

Sparkling Justice is a night haunter, who exclusively goes around killing murderers and evildoers against Makoto's wishes. Choosing to right any injustice he sees in the world, allowing for happy endings for the victims, surely?

I went hard with celes and hifumi a long time ago in previous designs, so here they are with similar designs as I gave them before. Hifumi wears a suit vest, and a button-up underneath while still keeping his bag... which may or may not be more than just a simple bag...

Celestia was born a normal kid and absolutely hated that life, so when a relative of hers from Europe visited she begged them and her family to go with them and she did. She grew up exploring Europe, and would propose money-making schemes to her family abroad and would eventually be able to fund the glamorous lifestyle she always thought she deserved.

Hifumi is just a writer-focused version of himself, though with a particular love for action-romance novels and fiction rather than strictly heart-melting novels like Touko. He's a sweet boy but very weird and horny for Celestia, so he's completely useless around her. He's basically a tool... just like...

ROBO-JUSTICE is a serial killer known for their modus operandi of targeting particularly attractive and very mean women with hammers or blunt force trauma. This alter was formed after one particularly awful night of bullying resulting in Hifumi getting thrown into an abandoned industrial park and nearly dying from exposure to wires and sharp metal. Despite this though, it is almost entirely subservient to Celestia whenever it surfaces from Hifumi's mind.

Akane and Nekomaru I've already drawn before, but I think it'd be nice to give some of the backstory I've planned for them.

Akane is a well-meaning, brash, and reckless person whose freakish natural strength pairs with a luck that does everything except help her directly. Random and unpredictable, Akane desperately tries everything she can to get into extremely unpredictable and dangerous situation for her luck to grace those around her with the best outcome from her misfortune, even if it means hurting a lot of people in the process.

Nekomaru was inspired by the nonstop hard work he saw the nurses had to do when they were treating his heart condition. So inspired that he made it his solemn vow to join them whatever it took, leading him to become the ultimate nurse. He would, however, be the first of his classmates to fall to the despair of the mastermind, as his well-meaning nature drew him into a trap he could not predict.

For Rantaro and Tenko I took inspiration from M. Bison(Dictator) and Criss Angel specifically. These are the most experimental designs I have as you can tell, but I plan on working on them a lot.

Tenko's story involves her becoming the head of her little "dojo" and straight up turning it into a cult, with her as the ultimate supreme leader and the greatest fighter in the world.

Rantaro started off doing magic for her sisters, and got so good at making them happy that one of them introduced his magic act to the world through sites like youtube, causing him to become a sensation drooled over by millions of girls around the world.

[moonfeatherblue]

Now I've done it. I've created a project that forces me both to write a new novel AND start live streaming, all in one fell swoop.

Have you ever wanted to watch someone write a novel live? The drama, the tears, the absolute collapse (and hopeful eventual rebirth) of a fellow being's soul as they strive to create sagas from silence and worlds from dust?

Now you can!

Assuming I don't back out at the last minute.

Fully expecting to enter a disconnected state of unadulterated panic very soon.

I have no idea if I can do this. I had meant to gradually get comfortable with writing live - first editing pre-written shorts, then writing shorts I already have extensive plans for, and so on. Look who decided to launch herself straight into the deep end on a virtual whim.

Please note, I am NOT expecting (or realistically aiming) to finish the novel or even reach 50,000 words. It would be a lovely achievement, but my current situation makes reaching that number exceptionally unlikely, and I don't want to stress myself out more and more by setting unachievable goals and invariably finding myself unable to meet them.

It would be lovely to see you there! The first 10 days leading up to NaNoWriMo will be spent on novel prep, and as soon as 1 November hits, it's full steam ahead!

Hooray...?

I will be streaming live on my YouTube channel EVERY DAY starting 22 October until the end of November! After that, I'll probably have to reassess my schedule a little bit. Something about this screams "unsustainable". Once NaNoWriMo is complete, I'll continue to write the novel while streaming, hopefully having a writing stream or two a week. Might take a couple of months to finish. Desperately hoping no more than that...

I'm already looking forward to marveling at that complete first draft! That's reasonably motivating... it doesn't quite cancel out the terror, though.

(Image description: An invite to Blue Mooney's first live stream. A rip unevenly divides the invite. One side reads: "You are cordially invited to join Blue Mooney for her National Novel Writing Month adventure: 50,000 words in 30 days. The journey begins... 22 October 2023, 0630 EST/1030 UTC/2130 AEDT." The background is pale blue and decorated with sparkles and corner stripes in pink and dark blue. The bottom of the invite features a picture of an open book with a quill poised to write. On either side are pink squiggly lines. On the other side of the invite divide is an image of Blue Mooney by @Nura0101233. The image features a large-eyed version of Blue Mooney brandishing her quill, ready to write, as a book hovers just above her other hand. She wears her customary vest/jacket and skirt combo in grey and blue, white blouse, pink tie, and grey cap with two silver feathers. Her long blonde hair blows with magical motion and power flows from her quill as blue and pink ink.)

[jlpat82]

Not Our Home

Chapter 9

It had been along time since he was down here, Preacher thought, the underground halls hadn't changed. He lead the group through the maze of corridors, twists and turns in the absolute darkness. He was in front, followed by Sasha, Julianne, and Reaper bring up the rear. Each held onto the shirt of the one leading, so not to get lost.

"We need a place to stop, and devise a plan," Reapers voice just above a whisper. "To figure away out of this city."

"I know the perfect place." I responded.

"First, we need to stop by and get a few things." Preacher added. His voice calm, as we rounded another corner.

"How do you know where we are going?" Sasha whispered.

"I snuck in when the bombs starting dropping, before the seals were put into place. At first I stayed down here, to avoid being seen. This was long before the criminals took over the place."

"Why did you come here to begin with?" I asked.

"Once I realized that someone had went through and murdered the scientist on our team I knew it wouldn't be long before they came after us. It took me a while to figure out it was Riptide that betrayed us. He was the one that let the activated nukes slip past." He paused for a moment and then took another turn. "I knew that if he saw me, he would kill me. So I snuck in and went straight to darkest most unlivable place I could."

"Basement level." Sasha stated.

"Exactly, I stayed here for a long while. Roaming these catacombs, I had free roam. Once every month guards would sweep through, they didn't know the darkness like I did. I smashed every light I passed, I wanted the darkness."

"Why?" She asked.

"Being genetically modified the complete darkness is nothing for me. I can see just as well as you can in the day, the people that came down here had limited visibility. I could out run them, cause I could see them coming. The only down side, it makes daylight a bitch to handle."

"When did you go top side?"

"Couple decades back, I stayed low and kept to myself. Found out Riptide didn't hand pick the military, if that's what you call those idiots, anymore and joined. Did a lot I ain't proud of." You could hear the agitation in his voice. "We're here."

I could hear some metal on metal scrapping, Preacher let a sound of a mixture of a groan and a huff. Low light spilled into the hall as he pushed the heavy metal door open.

We stepped into the room, it was smallish. One single light bulb mounted in the far corner was the only source of light. Items I had only seen in videos hung from hooks on the wall. Old camouflage army fatigues adorned with a heavy bulky vest, no doubt reinforced Kevlar. Dusty black boots sat neatly squared under each set, large rifles artfully hung on the walls. These were items from another era. An era tense by war and bloodshed, supposedly a thing of the past.

"I believe these belong to you, Sir." Preacher handed Reaper a set, a name emblazoned across the right breast of the jacket. Harper, in bold stitching. A smile played across his face as he took them, he pulled them close.

"How I've missed you." Reaper spoke softly, pulling his shirt off. Scars lined his bare chest, I turned quickly looking at my sister. Preacher was in the middle of disrobing, changing into his uniform.

"Sasha, you can wear these." Preacher handed her a set, she gladly took them. She stripped quickly out of her slime and maggot covered clothes. They dropped with a wet thud.

"Julianne," Reaper pulled me aside, he handed me a set of fatigues. "These were your grandmother's, you should wear them."

"Why?" I cautiously took them from him, his face relaxed a bit. The kindness had returned to his eyes, something I hadn't seen since that night in my house.

"You are a lot like her." He replied as Preacher walked up to us, handing Reaper a rifle. He turned to me and pushed one in my hands on top of clothes. Bewildered, I turned my attention to him.

"Trust me, we'll need them." He stated, turning he walked back to the wall of weapons.

"News flash Rambo, we normal people don't know how to use these!"

"Easy to figure out, you hold gun, point it thing want to permanently stop and pull the trigger." He replied not looking back.

"You should get dressed." Reaper added and followed his comrade.

I stripped quickly, and put the uniform on. It was heavy and bulkier then it looked while hanging. It felt odd to put on clothes of someone who had been deceased for as long as she had been. Her being my grandmother just made it very weird. Hopefully history would not repeat.

—-

"What do you mean you lost them!" Riptide yelled inches from the guards ruddy face.

"It was guard 116, he turned on me." The poor man croaked out, his eyes averted from Riptide. His left eye was swollen shut, dried blood crusted around his broken nose.

"How?! You were supposed to be one of the best! You passed everything with honors you stupid moron!" Riptide's whole head was a bright red, a vein bulged from his temple throbbing with every word. He absent mindedly rub the back of his head. He could feel the headache starting to come on, he was beginning to wonder if he was surrounded by idiots.

Riptide stepped over to the computer, quickly typed in 116. The computer brought up the file, there was a face he hadn't seen in a hundred years. Riptide felt the blood wash from his face, as a cold chill raked through his body.

The ghost from his past popped up on screen. Preacher had just barely slipped in the force, nothing worth while on his record.  Just average, the kid knew how to cheat the system. No honors, no disciplinary actions, because of this he was able to slip under his radar.

"How long has he been on the patrol unit for the prisons?" He barked, panic raised his voice a notch as his hands started to tremble. This could be detrimental, dealing with Reaper was going to be a challenge but adding Preacher to the problem aggravated the situation. Preacher was Reaper's second in command, his go to buddy. Not only did this mean it was a two on one but Reaper would now know the lay out of entire complex.

"This was his second patrol shift." He slowly brought his eyes up, looking at his commanding officer. His brow knotted together, he saw fear in the man's eyes.

"Damn it!"

"Sir, if you don't mind me asking why is that so damning?"

"Because he only needs a day to completely memorize the entire lay out of structure. It was his unique specialty."

"Sir, the guy barely qualified on his exams, I don't see how that is possible."

"He is not as stupid as you are! That's why, his brain works at a faster and higher setting then your peanut size brain does."

"Uh, I don't think I'm following you."

"He's like me." Riptide pull his handgun out, he pointed to his own head with it. "My brain is much bigger then yours, hence why I'm in control and you are not. We, him and I, were created to be better then people like you."

"What do you mean, created?" Riptide brought the gun down leveling it to the ruddy faced guards head. He pulled the trigger, blowing chucks out of his head.

"You wouldn't understand, and now I wasted a perfectly good bullet."

—-

Reaper was in deep conversation with Preacher, he looked over briefly and pointed to the black boots. I slowly sat down, pulling a pair of socks that had been rolled up in one of the boots. I shook the dust off of them pulling them on, watching them conspire. I grabbed one of the heavy boots, I dusted it off and saw a full shine. I shoved my foot into it as Sasha came over, she sat next to me and she started doing the same.

"Wonder what their plan is." She stated, watching the two, as she laced the boots tightly.

"Escape, fight back, who knows." I sighed, I turned my head to look at my sister. Red slime still clung in her hair, blood streaked across her ivory cheek. Even in the low lighting I could see the dust that streaked her face. I never asked her to be apart of any of this, and she was in no way obligated to stay. She continued to prove me wrong.

It seemed like our old lives were hidden far deep in the past, so much had changed in a week. The world her and I grew up in had changed violently, but it hadn't changed at all. It was the same, we had just woken from the dream into a nightmare fueled by hate and bloodlust, that was our reality. The facade had been pulled back, leaving devastating results in its wake.

Genetically modified people were a reality, they stood before us, the last of a forgotten era. Living relics, trained to fight, trained to kill. They had once lived by code to protect, and that's what they were planning on doing. While one attempted to keep us at bay, by all cost.

The world outside our revered reinforced cinder walls were far from the utopia most had aspired for it to one day be. It in its self, the world as a whole, was livable, filled with horrifying wonders yet to be seen. Twisted and knarled oddies waiting to be to be gazed upon. Lands to be explored and documented, fresh air to breathed. A life I had always wanted to see.

Within these walls is the real horror show we had seen. We had been kept in check by powers beyond our control. Cruel and evil men who held our daily lives captive, not only to keep the status quo in check but actively kept our numbers in check. We had been fed the flesh of our peers none the wiser, arguing over flavors that we had never really tasted. Going to and from meaningless jobs, to appease the elite. We were nothing more then clogs on a wheel.

She had seen these horrors first hand, and yet here she was, sitting next to me. Willing to fight till the end of line, a strength I had never known radiated from somewhere deep with in Sasha. She didn't give up when they took me, with the intent of killing me, even with odds stacked against her. It was her loyalty that brought her the courage she needed to keep going. Then again I could hallucinating all of that, and in reality all she just wanted to do was go home and take a hot shower.

"You said you know a place?" Preacher asked walking towards us. "They'll starting sweeping soon, trust me we don't want a fire fight down here."

"Yeah, can you get us to housing complex A?" I responded taking Reaper's hand as he helped me off the ground, pulling me a bit to close to him. I felt like a tiny awkward creature being that close, I could feel the heat spread through my cheeks. His golden eyes locked onto mine.

"Can I get you to housing complex A?" Preacher chuckled mocking me, as he grabbed a couple more handguns, strapping them to his thighs. He tossed a couple to Reaper who caught them one handed without breaking eye contact with me. "Oh child, if you only knew where I've been."

"Preacher, lead the way." Reaper stated, slowly turning from me. My heart in my throat, I let out a deep breath I hadn't realized I was holding. Why did he do that to me.

—-

"Gentlemen, we've had a breach." Riptide shouted, pacing before the hundred men. "First we have a man who has come in from the outside. A contaminant has breached our walls as is a potential threat to our hollowed society, he is to be considered highly dangerous. He will also be armed to the teeth, this man is not to be under estimated. Do not hesitate, take him down, I assure you he will not hesitate to put a bullet through your skull. The second problem we have had one of our own has turned on us."

All eyes, focused on him. He had re-composed himself since his slip, a momentary weakness. He could feel his power begin to course back through him, he was back in control. These idiots were eating up what he had to say, not questioning his orders. Things back to the way it should be and soon back normal all the way around.

"He is also to be considered highly dangerous, he will also be armed. Though 116 seemed to be average don't let that fool you. The man is a highly trained killer. He is ruthless, shoot at first chance. Both these men must be taken with a head shot, if you miss and shoot another body part they will still continue to fight. Be alert to your surroundings, these two have skills you could only dream of." He paused waiting for his instructions to sink in. He had to remind himself that he was dealing with simpletons. After this was all said and done, these men would be purged and the records wiped. Like nothing ever happened. "As for the woman, I want her taken alive."

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@kitkatkl

Not our home tag-

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