#not to mention how this completely alienates indigenous people such as myself!

[skansennow-arghans]

Certainly it is a bit depressing how so many otherkin accidentally fall into ecofascism and such because of hating humanity. loathing humans won’t do anything, humans are also an animal species, but also with a unique capacity of altruism and caretaking. A cat does not care that a bird species can go extinct, but humans do, and there is truly something beautiful in humanity. It also alienates us otherkin where our kintypes are actually very close to humanity—drakons are protectors of human houses, pantries, and givers of health. My kintype is bound by humanity yet there is barely any representation for otherkin such as myself.

[quiveringdeer]

Now i want to know your answer to this one if you please :D Cloverfield: If you were in the zombie apocalypse/alien invasion, would you hide, and if so, where would you hide? What group of people would you want with you through this?

Ooooo!!!

Zombies: Ok so i consistently thought of this through hs and college. Now it just pops into my head every so often. While I don't ever feel like I want a gun of my own it just came up at dinner last night that a friend is gonna work to get their license here and I'm thinking of tagging along cause I dont wanna be in a situation where I dont know how to use it and also suck at aiming. So practice practice.

Also as for where to hide out. I currently live in the southern appalachias and I think mountains are totes the best place to be for zombies. I've also thought rhat while most people will be headed to walmarts or lowes and places like that I'm gonna skip those as they will probs have a high infection rate in the beginning. People be hidin wounds and shit. So no thanks to epicenter places. Even these buildings in rural areas are gonna be a no for me. I do think I'd hit up any smaller medical pharmacy and such if others had already broken in to begin looting--tho with this recent year's experience the panic buying of pains meds and stuff may deplete those rather quickly, outside of the like stronger stuff in the back you'd need prescriptions for. Which would be my main objective in a looting situation! First my own depression meds and shit cause i dont want to deal with that on top of the apocalypse. And then higher dose pain meds for when I now doubt have to amputate someone's limbs who has an extremity bite. But also like common first aid stuff in bulk. Cause the goal is to hole up somewhere far away from populations.

Also there is an army surplus store around here so I'd have a friend go with me if we had early stage warnings and stock up on MREs. Dried beans, rice and other non parishables. Oh! And water pruification tablets/drops. I have a life straw but not passin that around.

as for shelter I was thinking that most public land agencies (of which I work for one and wouldnt have thought of this otherwise) but they generally have multiple maintenance yards/compounds that are generally completely fenced in with sliding gate systems that work with a code, which hopefully could be modified to be done by human effort to conserve energy resources. There are also a number of places that have solar panels on buildings here so tracking those down to being to whichever maint. yard my crew chooses. Probs would be stickin with coworkers and callin close friends to invite them here. Then it'd be a matter of building up the integrity of the fence structure, adding in barriers to keep things further from the chainlink, ala the way Negan's camp is in the walking dead?? where they even employed zombie wardens out front to cut down on humans trying to infiltrate.

There is also my thought that I may consider moving north where snowfall and ice are more prevalent. It'd be fuckin miserable to live theough the winters. But on the off chance zombies existed even though I feel like rotting corpses couldn't maintain the musculature control to remain upright for long--plus without pain sensations they're more likely to overexert their muscles and stuff which leads to tears in muscles or tendons which would lead to lower mobility I could assume. Since pain keeps us from breaking ourselves by not exerting to our fullest capabilities. Anywho, regardless of all that. Heavy snowfalls and freezing temps should render them almost inert in the harsh northern winters. Making them easier for human hunting parties up for the task, to decimate their populations around the area.

Though the thaw in summer would probs be awful with the smell, while our mighty decomposers do their job! not to mention these wonderful animals, insects included, who have larvae that thrive on eating rotting meat? those guys will be active during the warmer times and help more quickly decompose the zombies. Yay nature havin our ill-adapted/evolved humans!!

So then it's a matter of waiting out things. I may even draft up a email with my plan to be able to mass send through our agency servers so others could hopefully mimic in their areas so that we could have multiple holdouts of humans to be able to have an better mix of human genetic diversity once we wait out the zombie decomposition and need to repopulate.

Also, another thought. I'm sure many Indigenous people, especially those unfortunately forced on reservations, will be amazing strongholds. Cause when they shut their borders they SHUT their borders lol From experience with the tribe next to my park and their protocols for the early pandemic. So potentially calling in friends and contacts to set up alliances eventually.

I think that's all the main important bits. I wont drone on with plans for accepting those in need into the compound and such. Cause while i'll definitely be using my voice to speak up for that, if it works out that a bunch of coworkers from my park are within the compound with me those decisions will probably run through the incident command protocols and hierarchies already set up within the national park structure. I'd just try to implement myself within those teams that are making decisions cause I feel I'd have thw most useful plans, obviously. 😌 lol

but yeah. Thanks for asking this question my darling!!! There are other things i probs left out but it's super early and my cats are yelling at me that i havent fed them since i chose to answer this upon waking lol

Aliens

suicide mention in this one 😬

Ok so aliens i havent thought about as extensively. I'd probs try to communicate I'm not a threat and hope they arent the type to want to subjugate humans. If so I mean my fantasy brain is like-- are they attractive aliens to me?? cause 👀👀👀 If not and they're the subjugating kind I'd probs off myself I guess?? Like I don't want to be forced into perpetual servitude and hiding out to try and survive without being captured seems miserable sooo yeah.

[rotationalsymmetry]

Sometimes my brain will not let go of a thing.

And, when I argue I tend to go back and forth between being very sure and argumentative, and second-guessing everything I’ve thought or said ever.

So, since I’m well into my second guessing phase, did I miss something there? I think if I missed something, it would be “sometimes it’s not about you.” Thing is though? I didn’t miss that. I’m aware of that. I’m fully aware that healthy people complaining about being inside more than usual, and missing out on stuff, isn’t about disabled/chronically ill people.

And that itself is part of the thing? Intention/impact. Not thinking about people can be a problem too. It’s...actually OK for people to notice and comment on when we’re *not* being thought of.

And it’s certainly not about not being able to handle people talking about being different. That’s...how do you even get there.

It’s not about being intolerant of people who are more sociable or more outdoorsy missing stuff. I miss stuff too. I get it. It’s fine to miss things. (We’re not different. I do miss things. I miss things so much.)

This is really not about whether it’s ok for people to be sad about pandemic restrictions. Of course it’s ok. (Feelings = always ok.)

It’s also incredibly frustrating, speaking as a chronically ill person, to hear people be publicly sad about missing things you’ve been missing from before the pandemic, while being completely oblivious to your own more enduring sadness. I get this with worship a lot: I tried a virtual worship service at a congregation that normally meets in person early on, and there was a lot of public mourning around not being able to meet in person. And I get that. Zoom worship is not the same. I miss in person worship too. And: I was already missing in person worship. And feeling profoundly alienated and ignored over it — not just that I couldn’t go to worship in person, but that I could easily see things my local congregation could be doing to be more inclusive, really simple things, that it wasn’t doing. So, zoom worship, especially everyone being on zoom, that’s actually a significant improvement for me. So hearing people be sad over something that’s a step down for them and a step up for me, without there being room for me to talk about how it’s a step up for me. How I’d been a step down (several steps down) from the current situation before. It’s.

There aren’t words. It’s like I turned invisible, or turned into a not-person, some time when I wasn’t looking.

I think that’s worth talking about. And at least as much worth talking about as the sadness of healthy people who are missing out. Who can also talk about their sadness, just, it’d be nice if sometimes they looked around.

It’s, uh, well sorry for this, but it’s a little like Dudley complaining about only getting thirty eight presents or whatever, when Harry’s right there and not getting any presents at all. There’s, uh, it’s ok to be upset, it’s not a competition, there is room for many different levels of disappointment, and of course some people are getting hit harder than others, but also...perspective please.

A little over a year ago I was in an airport, and had sensibly requested a wheelchair, and I got treated like luggage. Pushing the wheelchair without giving me a heads-up first even after I complained the first time it happened, for instance. Getting treated more like an object than a person is, tbh, not really something I’m used to happening to me. It’s jarring. To go from someone people care about. To being luggage. Going from being a valued member or prospective member of a congregation, someone who’s welcomed in and wanted. To someone that people won’t make even the smallest accommodation for, even when that accommodation would mean the world to you.

And, good grief, this is just me and I’ve still got it WAY better in many ways than a lot of other disabled people.

It’s not just about disability either. It’s also “oh it’s like being in prison” well no, you see there are actual people in prison, and they’re dying at appalling rates, and having to stay in your home that’s set up the way you like it and might even have multiple rooms you can be in and also being able to go for a walk around the neighborhood when you want, is only a tiny bit like prison even when people aren’t dying.

(And people can talk about their frustrations without bringing prison into it. And people who feel disappointed or frustrated that they’re missing out can be a bit cautious about complaining to or perhaps in front of someone who’s objectively missing out on more, or make sure they’re all ears when the person who’s missing out more wants to vent, because let me tell you a lot of disabled people find that abled people are in general not very helpful when it comes to expressing our frustrations.) (Some exceptions of course — but it is a very common experience, and personally I rarely full on vent to anyone except my partner or other chronically ill people. Healthy people tend to take complaints as a request for suggesting possible treatments, which is not constructive.)

There’s a lot of ways in which some people habitually have it much, much worse than others, and yet somehow the people who have it less bad get lots of room to talk about their troubles, lots of sympathy and understanding and getting to see their troubles represented in fiction and talked about on the news and so on, and the people who have it the worst do not get any sympathy at all. (Which of course is not to say I myself am perfect and always get it right, I’m not and I don’t.)

And when we’re presented in news articles or other media, often it’s for abled people and not for us (“inspiration porn”.)

And you see this on so many levels with the pandemic. There’s a zillion articles on working from home and reducing your risk when you don’t have to do anything more risky than a grocery run. And virtually none on how essential workers can protect themselves. I don’t know about media specifically aimed at parents, but news articles aimed at the general public rarely mention the difficulties of parenting during the pandemic. I don’t think I’ve seen a single article talking about how the pandemic and staying home might be especially hard on kids and teens, or even young adults (even though obviously it’s easier to be resilient when you’ve had a ton of positive past experiences you can draw on, which for many people includes prom night and early-twenties bar hopping, and even though young people are more likely to be in a life stage where they’re looking for a friend group or a romantic partner which is much harder to do if you can’t go places) or the elderly. (See? I get it. Nights out and road trips and so on aren’t frivolous, they’re what tie the social fabric together.) But there’s a ton of articles about how to adjust to working from home. And how the economy is doing.

Almost like we live in a society that values “workers” and “consumers” more than people. And only certain kinds of workers at that.

Let’s push back on that, OK? I’m a person. Terminal cancer patients are people. Old ladies who go to the dialysis clinic are people. Full time wheelchair users are people. People with intellectual disabilities are people. Dementia patients who don’t remember their own name, are people. Prisoners are people. Immigrants and asylum seekers are people. Sex workers are people. Black peoples are people. Indigenous people are people. Bus drivers and garbage collectors and baristas and cashiers and janitors are people. Trauma survivors are people. People with all sorts of mental illnesses — not just depression and anxiety, but psychosis and schizophrenia and personality disorders (edit: and addictions), all mental illnesses — are people. Furries or whoever is being made fun of these days, are people. People who can’t use words are people. People who “look funny” are people. People who are “I don’t know, they just have a really weird vibe, I just don’t like them, you know?” are people. People with bad teeth, with weird accents, who don’t know that thing that everybody knows, people who don’t have the right politics or use the right words, we are all people.

We all have inherent worth, we all deserve basic respect and compassion and care, we all have the same basic rights, we all deserve to have our struggles heard and taken seriously. Even when we don’t explain ourselves well. Especially when we don’t explain ourselves well.

Do you understand? Especially when we don’t explain ourselves well. Because, people who aren’t good at explaining things, also have problems and are understood less often.

Or people who want to explain things that are hard to explain, because they’re outside of the mainstream frame of reference.

[comradekatara]

the other day, I was thinking about an insane piece of discourse I saw back in '14/'15 once the lok finale had aired. a lot of people reacted negatively to the conclusion of korra's arc. not just due to korrasami, but because just before the scene wherein she and asami all but confess their feelings to each other, she says the following to tenzin: 

"I know I was in a pretty dark place after I was poisoned. But I finally understand why I had to go through all that. I needed to understand what true suffering was so I could be more compassionate to others, even to people like Kuvira." 

now, I can understand why people reacted poorly to that line. for one thing, the implication that she needed to suffer, which a) she already had suffered (amon & unavaatu), and b) no one deserves to suffer; paired with the implication that she needed to become more compassionate, when she was already plenty compassionate, is troubling. admittedly, this line could have used a second draft. 

but here's why I don't think the sentiment behind this is faulty: empathy has no limit. there is no gamut of human experiences, and you will never run out of learning new things. korra's arc is all about having her identity as the avatar being tested, constantly being questioned by the people whom she so desperately wants to help. amon strips away her bending, essentially undifferentiating from everyone else. unalaq violently rips raava away from her, intending to leave her only human. but zaheer doesn't just want to incapacitate korra as the avatar. he fully intends to end the avatar cycle, by killing korra full-stop. of course, he cannot, because even when poisoned and in chains, korra can still kick his ass. 

in short, korra is amazing. not only is she unbelievably powerful, but she uses that power to help others, and she has genuine kindness and compassion for everyone she meets. this has been true since book 1. it was never in question. and yet, another aspect of korra's character that is often glossed over is that she comes from privilege. she grew up in a thriving society, and being the avatar only exacerbated her access to everything she could ever need. of course, she was lonely, and antsy to leave the white lotus compound, and who could blame her, but compared to mako and bolin, whose childhoods would put oliver twist to shame, she lived like a fucking king. mako even points this out, and she acknowledges her privilege. so why couldn't the fandom? i have two guesses: a) it's inconvenient, especially when trying to pit her against asami, to acknowledge that she never had a tragic backstory. both her parents are alive and love and support her unconditionally, she's never had to worry about money, and she led a very sheltered childhood. b) the idea of an indigenous woman not growing up in poverty is inconceivable to some people, even though the southern water tribe is clearly thriving. (.........because racism.) 

korra had indeed known suffering before zaheer, but only in temporary bursts. her fight with unalaq happened in a shorter timespan than a lot of women go through labor in. losing raava was traumatizing and horrible, but it was only temporary. so was losing her bending. we can say that these developments were both a deus ex machina, and lazy writing, and I certainly wouldn't disagree, but literally everyone has experienced traumatic incidents for short bursts of time. this is not the same thing as what korra later goes through, and I will continue to explain why. furthermore, I think the writers agree that these were dei ex machina, because they course correct in book 3. (plus, they knew they had another season in the bag this time. so nick is, once again, at least partially to blame.) korra doesn't just bounce back, like she did in the previous seasons. in fact, after the violence she endured, she becomes so incapacitated she requires the use of a wheelchair. 

(I'm going to try not to make this too personal, so please just trust me that I know what I'm talking about here, and that I have an intimately familiar perspective on this situation.) in the episode "korra alone," we see korra at her lowest as she struggles to recover. a trip back home that she anticipates will only be two weeks ends up with her ultimately leaving republic city for the next three years. due to her past experiences, she does expect to bounce right back. she knows herself to be exceptional, and powerful, and she has no reason not to assume that she won't heal quickly. but it takes her much longer than anticipated to regain mobility, and even longer to build up her strength, both physically and mentally. she struggles with being physically disabled, as well as with ptsd and depression. this episode portrays all of this masterfully. as much as people claimed they did her dirty in book 4, avatar has always been exceptional at subtly portraying the effects of trauma, and this episode.... honestly felt like looking in a mirror. 

the episode title "korra alone" hails back to an episode of atla titled "zuko alone" in which zuko also struggles with his ptsd regarding the loss of his mother. incidentally, it also takes zuko three years after suffering a grave injury at the hands of a man who values the power of destruction over the inherent value of human life (especially your CHILD jesus ozai) to arrive at a place where he comes to terms with what happens to him, and even though he is not completely "healed," he ultimately finds value in the hardship he endured because he can retroactively appreciate the empathy he developed. like korra, zuko has always been empathetic by nature. in fact, it is his empathy that got him in trouble in the first place. but by having endured unknowable suffering, once he finally accepts it, he develops even greater empathy, and in doing so, saves the world. korra willingly sacrifices herself to save the airbenders. for the next three years, she lives in denial, her obstinate pride resisting the notion that she is human, and is allowed to be weak and hurting, and this only pushes her deeper down into her spiral. but ultimately, she finds strength in her suffering, and instead of fighting kuvira, she talks to her, person to person. even though she is a fully-realized avatar, more powerful than anyone could imagine, she recognizes that she is still human. this arc pattern sound familiar? hell, her hair cutting scene is a direct parallel to zuko's in 2.01. it's not subtle. 

and yet, here is something troubling. I have seen someone say that to think that what korra concludes from having suffered is acceptable, is agreeing with the same rhetoric as ozai. that saying, "I needed to understand what true suffering was so I could be more compassionate to others" is the same as saying, "you will learn respect, and suffering will be your teacher." for one thing, compassion and respect are two very different things. zuko learns the opposite of respect for ozai; he learns to (rightfully) resent him for the abuse he put him through. and yet, zuko would agree that his suffering was not in vain, because it allowed him to grow as a person. was zuko a good person before the suffering he endured? yes, in "zuko alone" we see that he has always been gentle and kind, to his detriment no less. had zuko suffered before the agni kai? undoubtedly. the disappearance of his mother caused him great pain, not to mention his father's abuse. and yet, he still claims that his banishment is what "set [him] on the right path," because it allowed him to realize not only the humanity of others, but his own as well. 

everyone endures pain. some pain lasts longer than others. recovery is not a linear path, and being hurt can be difficult to accept. but accepting your pain is the only way forward. you cannot change the past (capturing the avatar is a perfect metaphor for this because of course, ozai had no intention of zuko ever returning home, and yet zuko is determined it is his destiny). you cannot alter what happened to you. accepting this is the first step, and it's hard. the next step is even harder: appreciating what happened to you. experiencing unimaginable pain that lasts years on end is something that can (and does) alienate you from your community and your peers. and yet, it also tethers you to humanity in a way you otherwise wouldn't. both my parents are alive and healthy, and though many of the people closest to me lost their parents far too young, I fundamentally cannot understand the grief of that. but I know that if it happened, I would make it through, because you just do. 

people often tell me I'm "so strong,” and “so brave,” and “so inspirational" for dealing with my illness the way I do. for presenting myself as poised and charming, for forcing myself to work as much as I possibly can, for surviving this. but what else can I do? we do not know what we are capable of until we are tested. no one needs to suffer. no one is inherently deserving of suffering. korra and zuko certainly weren't. and yet, I do believe that to have empathy—true empathy—one needs to suffer. empathy is developed through experience. you will never truly know how another person is feeling. you can never access another person's consciousness. but if you see someone wince at having received a papercut, you will feel their pain if you have received a papercut at some point too. 

TLDR. it is literally the healthiest possible mindset after experiencing trauma to acknowledge that you accept what happened to you, and can find merit in having developed empathy due to that experience. korra's recovery arc may not be perfect (because literally nothing is) but it's poignant, and powerful, and affirming. (especially for qwoc. im js!) to claim that those who see themselves in her suffering in any way agree with ozai is an insanely bad take. you will continue to develop your empathy until you die. being kind is good, but you could always be kinder. korra's accepting of her suffering is not her thanking or even forgiving zaheer, it is her forgiving herself. the legend of korra is a story about a god contending with, and ultimately learning to accept, her own humanity— and for someone as powerful and incredible as korra, acknowledging your weakness and vulnerability is no small feat. there is true strength in humility. as iroh says, "pride is not the opposite of shame, but its source." so instead of resisting, let's allow ourselves to develop a new understanding, and learn to heal.

[scriptlgbt]

There was an ask mentioning aliens who could shapeshift as possibly being trans. But that isn't the definition of trans. Trans = not identifying with the gender you are assigned. If you shapeshift and get assigned a woman (by humans/aliens) and call yourself a woman you are not trans. Vice versa too. Perhaps from an alien understanding it could be trans but from a human pov, that's still no. Right? This is how I'm writing my own story. I'm trans myself btw.

When interacting with cultures whose only perceptions of your existence are through the lens of transness, it is often the case that people with culturally-specific gender identities to use the label trans for themselves while within those spaces. Not because it is accurate, or because it feels right for them, but because that’s how they find community.

This is valid.

On top of that, there are plenty of people who are AFAB whose identities still have relationships to womanhood. Someone identifying with one gender does not mean there is less space for them to identify with another gender as well. Someone can be just as much a man as they are a woman. Someone can be a demigirl or a nonbinary woman and still be completely valid in their trans identity.

There is a lot more nuance to it.

Much of contemporary trans identity has to do with an underlying sense of common experiences. Not that everyone in the community has one singular shared experience, but that there’s enough common ground that people can connect. The definitions fit for most people, but there are many intersex people and folks with culturally-specific gender identities who still deserve to call themselves trans if they want to do so. (But there are valid reasons to not want to. Everybody is different and we need to do more to prioritize intersex people and those who experience binarism.) (Binarism = colonial assertion of gender binary.)

There are also many cultures where the terminology for a specific identity has been historically erased due to colonization or anglicization. Which leads English terms like ‘transgender’ to come in and fill those gaps in words. (With some Indigenous nations, colonizers invented slurs and there was a conference held to coin the term ‘two spirit’.)

In different cultural contexts and languages, the definition of trans varies. This isn’t just a human species thing, but something that varies hugely even just from one neighbourhood to the next. Words and definitions aren’t always a 1:1 perfect match ratio, and umbrella terms backfire the most on this.

The term fitting is ultimately not my big concern with representation. Calling a character trans isn’t going to be as big of a deal to me as it would to actually relate to the character and see myself in the world.

- mod nat

[atcostmag]

Yes You Are’s Kianna Alarid on former band Tilly and the Wall, her Chicana identity and being featured on the Super Bowl

Through her alma-mater Tilly and the Wall, Kianna Alarid has seen it all. At one point, it felt like Kianna was on top of the world  with her songs plastered over ads (and even on the 2014 Super Bowl) as well as some high-profile features from starring on Sesame Street to dropping a track with Tiesto. But it wasn’t something that would last forever and as the indie-pop explosion Nebraska soon died out in favor of the more central Williamsburg scene, things started to slow and stagnate for Alarid. Searching the world but failing to find the right musical collaborator, combined with post-partum depression and a relapse from 8 years of sobriety, took a toll on Kianna. Starting anew and back on her feet, Alarid found herself in Kansas City, Missouri and formed her latest act Yes You Are. A rush of new energy and ideas came back to Kianna and now out of the woods it seems like things are looking up for Alarid again. After all, you gotta be doing something right if the 2017 Super Bowl wants to feature your music again. 

I last met Kianna back in 2008 during one of Tilly and the Wall’s last few shows, but it would be nearly 7 years later until we would catch up again, in a promo email. Since then we’ve been writing each other, and appreciating each others’ quirks on Instagram and Facebook, and a long time in the works we finally decided to get an interview down. We spoke candidly to Kianna about the last few years and what it all meant, that and other things among why the Kansas City Royals is the best team ever. 

Tell us about your beginnings and meeting your former band Tilly and the Wall.

When I was 15 I met Todd, Clark and Joel (The Faint,) but at that time I just knew them as Omaha's best skateboarders, along with my boyfriend at the time. I was very involved in the skate community and was always hanging out with them and found out that they were also musicians. I got very into the underground Omaha scene through them, listening to bands like Commander Venus, Norman Bailer and Simon Joyner. After a few years, my boyfriend and I broke up and I didn't see that crew for a while.

I started playing in my first real band when I was 18 with a few friends of mine. We were really into hardcore and metal at that time and wanted to write and play that kind of music. I only played bass at that time, I had never really sung, although I did rap during one song. I met a lot of people involved in that scene in Omaha and many of them had crossover relationships with people playing in the indie music scene. I started seeing my old friends around again who were no longer skating as much, and were way more focused on their new band The Faint and playing with bands like Bright Eyes and Cursive. I started hanging out with that crew way more when I turned 21 and started going to karaoke with a handful of them. We went all the time, sometimes 3 times a week. That's actually how I really started singing and came to realize I wasn't half bad.

 We were out at a bar one night when a few of them were taking about starting a new band, their old band was called Park Ave., and I basically invited myself to be a member of this hypothetical new band and they were like, right on! That band was called Magic Kiss and though it didn't last long, one of the members Jamie Williams and I became very close and we continued to hang out and write music together. She invited me over one day to meet these two weirdos, Nick and Derek, also musicians, who had just moved to town from Atlanta, Georgia. We all hit it off big time. We starting hanging out all the time, playing music and just having a blast together. We decided to become a real band soon after that and asked Jamie's old band mate Neely to join as well. That's how Tilly started, from my perspective.

Though you were born in Omaha, your family is from New Mexico and proudly wear the labels Chicano and Native American. Tell us what that identity means to you?

Both sides of my family are originally from very small towns and villages in New Mexico. I grew up identifying as "Chicano" which, according to my relatives meant "displaced" and wasn't used with the more commonly known definition of "Mexican-American". My family used the word more radically, to refer to a race of people specific to New Mexico, who were a genetic mix of the native people of that area, who had lived there for thousands of years, and the Spanish explorers who colonized the area in 1598. There was always a vibe of resistance surrounding the term and we had strong sense of culture relating to our indigenous roots. Kachinas, sand paintings, heavy turquoise jewelry.. these were all normal things in my world. I understand more now why "displaced" was used to describe our people, although possibly the word "outsider" could be interchanged. New Mexico is a very strange and magical place and has a very interesting culture, including a different sort of "singing" Hispanic accent and completely unique food. Not to mention all the UFOs and aliens.

At one point Omaha was to indie pop like Seattle was to grunge. What was it like to be in Nebraska during the height of the scene?

It was awesome! We were a very tight knit group of people and anyone you ask from that group will tell you, with shivers on their arms, about the night when everything changed. The Faint was set play this big venue we had always known to be a place for bigger, touring bands and everyone was excited to see how that would pan out. We all sat there, shocked and stunned as hundreds and hundreds of people kept arriving... people we didn't know or recognize. It had always just been us at the shows before... a lot of people, but you at least sort of recognized most of the crowd. This was different, it was just so many new faces. It was the first time anything like that happened and it just kept happening from there on out with Bright Eyes and Cursive and so on. At first we were just like, "Who are all these people coming to our friends' shows!?" Then it just blew up. It was so exciting to be there and help out and celebrate our friends' successes.

Of course, there’s the highs and lows of touring. What was it like battling with sobriety?

Addiction is a funny thing, it seems to easily go hand in hand with being an artist. It has been the downfall of so many incredible and gifted people throughout history. Drinking is such a normalized part of our society, so it seems pretty harmless in the beginning. I can see why its so destructive. Its a sneaky thing. I am a very intense person, so for me, it makes it a life or death choice. When you're faced with that reality, it makes it much more clear that you need to choose wisely. I want to live and I want to do my job for as long as possible, so I'm staying sober. To me, having drinks isn't worth missing my destiny.

 I like the fun and funkiness of Yes You Are. Tell us about how “Holy Ghost Explosion (HGX)” came about?

Well, I think all our songs are weird. We aren’t writing from a typical perspective and aren’t even doing this for any typical reasons. We have something to say but it can’t really be said.. so we dance with words in order to cause a certain phenomenon in a certain listener. Could it be you? “HGX” started as an nod to Timbaland and wound up as something else.. but still has that 808 vibe and a fun beat to get down to. Its a creeper and possibly its creepy too, depending on how you look at it.

“HGX” stands for “Holy Ghost Explosion”, which was the title of this viral YouTube video a while back of some Pentecostals really going WILD. Something about the name of the video stuck with us and we would up using it the song lyric. We had started referring to the song as “Holy Ghost Explosion” and then after some time, we just started saying “HGX” as that's how we would write it on set lists.

Honestly, I never would have taken you as a sports fan. Tell us about your newfound love for sports and more specifically, the  Kansas City Royals.

I grew up with jocks for parents and I just could not relate. They have always been die hard Cubs fans and baseball was always on our tv but i just couldn't get into it. It wasn't until I reluctantly watched the Royals play in the 2014 Wild Card game that I thought... "Wait, what is THIS? This is baseball? Holy sh*t!" I haven't really missed many games since that night. Learning the game and understanding it has been a huge revelation for me. I can’t really get into it here because it would take too long, but there is a poetry to the game of baseball that goes far deeper than meets the eye. I never would have guessed I’d become a sports fan but the 2014 KC Royals did some kinda alchemy in me and I’ve never been the same since. Its awesome. These games, these insanely high paid players… it all seems so insignificant on the surface, and possibly for some people it is. To those who have been touched by the metaphors of it all.. its very much something else. Its so beautiful. I even have a closer bond with my parents. I get it now.

Well, for a sports fan being on the Super Bowl not once but twice is certainly the honor. What was it like being on the Super Bowl not only with Tilly and the Wall but with Yes You Are?

We had no idea that our song was going to be on the Pepsi Super Bowl commercial. I was doing our taxes, tuned into the station that day and suddenly the song was on. I just sort of blanked out.. then my phone blew up. It was amazing to us, like a sign of some kind. We have believed in Yes You Are for so long and have just pushed steadily along through hard times and better times but for this amazing thing to be given to us… it certainly felt like a sign that something bigger and better is coming.

So it seems like you've done a lot in your career. What's next?

What’s next is putting out our debut album and getting our songs known throughout the universe and beyond!

Last question! I heard you're an MMA fan as well. What did you think of the Conor McGregor versus Mayweather spectacle? This is probably completely crazy but do you think you'd entertain the idea of fighting Floyd Mayweather if the chance came up?

No. Definitely no, I would not fight Floyd Mayweather! I guess I may entertain the thought of letting him beat me up for 100 million dollars though (laughs). I thought the whole McGregor/Mayweather thing was just that, a spectacle. I heard the fight was really good and I also heard they hugged like old, rich-ass friends afterward so, whatever (laughs). You know actually, I am a big fan of the Diaz brothers. They're such ninjas! Nate Diaz actually inspired me to start training Brazilian jiu jitsu at Kansas City BJJ but I stopped after a while because some of the chokes we were doing compromised my throat on more than one occasion. Those guys are killers (laughs). I had a sore throat for over a week and I just couldn't risk it. I miss it a lot though and I do remember my training and drills so... just saying.

Check out Yes You Are on Spotify below:

[ladyspaceradio]

Ink Chapter 4

Ao3 Link

One Step Closer

Voeld was somehow worse than being stuck at the ass end of Noveria wearing nothing but a bikini. A skimpy bikini.

Abigail almost wished for Havarl again, that’s how shit Voeld was.

The jungle world had been a marvel with its colorful plants and heart wrenching beauty… that surprise surprise, hid a ridiculous amount of danger. Abigail didn’t know why she had been expecting otherwise… aside from Aya, Andromeda was a consistent shitshow.

The whole planet seemed desperate to taste Milky Way blood. From the indigenous flora and fauna to the Remnant and Roekaar; everything had tried to bite, melt, laser beam, shoot or just plain stab her in the face. Even Jaal had commented more than once about the strange amount of hostility they were attracting. When all was said and done, Abigail had been more than ready to jump on her ship and GTFO.

Now she was seriously rethinking her opinion. Sure, Havarl had its share of problems, but not one of those included air so bitter cold it slid right into initiative armor like it owned the place and threatened to freeze her Pathfinding tits off.

The good news was that she was almost done with the death planet, the bad news, she was probably going to another planet that wanted to kill her in new gruesome ways.

At the moment the Tempest crew was on standby, waiting for the Moshae to be released by the resistance doctors, who were stabilizing her for travel. Lexi was also in the medbay learning everything she could from them.

The last few days had been a hellish nightmare. Abigail still had the Cardinal's blood splattered across her. The pukish green color stood out against her white and gold armor. She knew she had to scrub it off eventually...but every time she got close, she was reminded of that hellish place, and the Kett who had seemed to believe so fervently in its horrors. Abigail had shot it dead while it proclaimed to her that she was beginning to be enlightened. To understand that this exaltation was a gift. Abigail hadn’t said a word in response, just put a bullet in its skull.

She had to kill it, because any creature that could condone, willingly inflict and even worship such evil had to die.

When Abigail tired of catching glimpses of her blood stained hands, the reminder of all she had gone through, all she had done and experienced, she ended up ripping off the offending armor and slinging it into the opposite wall where it clanked against the metal hulk of the ship before hitting the ground.

Her naked skin bothered her just as much.

It had been bare for weeks. Not a single image on Havarl, not even a scribble on Voeld, there was nothing. Her skin was just blank as it had been before they came to andromeda. Sometimes she’d awake in the middle of the night after another terrifying dream, and ask SAM if it really happened. If the little red tally had actually appeared, if she truly did have a soulmate. That she wasn’t incomplete.

During the small moments of time she had to herself Abigail wrote many things.

Where are you

I’m Abigail Ryder

Where are you

Who are you

I’m sorry

Where are you

Nothing.

That’s how it always was.

In the end she had given up writing and gone back to drawing.

Worse was the fact that Abigail couldn’t sleep well anymore. Her once dreamless nights had turn into nightmares. On some nights her dreams were of a cold blackness that she was trapped in. There was a bone deep sense of loneliness that seemed to grip her when she slept. In her waking hours she would feel a chill of her soul, the ragged edges weeping to be complete.

But if she wasn’t dreaming of darkness she would dream of foggy places where something, someone, lurked in the distance. Watching, tracking, hunting her. There was a desperate quality to these dreams. The suffocating need to find….something that bled into her. It was these nights where she’d awake drenched in sweat, hand reaching out to grasp at something, these nights scared her the most.

A hand rubbed absently at her sternum, while Abigail sat and thought. It seemed to be a new habit of hers to scratch at the patch of skin.

The night her soulmark had appeared Abigail started to notice this odd sort of rhythm beating next to her heart. At first, she thought it was a heart murmur. But Lexi assured her everything checked out. However the beating didn’t go away, but grew stronger each passing night. If Abigail didn’t know better she’d say she had a second heart buried in her chest, beating stronger and out of time with her own heart.

When she inquired about the oddity with SAM, the AI informed her he felt nothing. Which made her think there was something wrong, till SAM proposed a theory.

“Another soulmark?” Her fingers pressed into the armor hiding her skin.

“It is a possibility.” SAM told her.

None of the Milkyway species had such a mark, which meant…

He’s in Andromeda.

Abigail had sought out an angara opinion on this, and went to the only one available to her. Jaal had been her only outlet for any inquiries about his people, but the angara seemed reluctant to divvy out any information on this subject.

“I'm sorry, I didn't know this was a sensitive topic among your people.” She had thought the angaran would be open about it, like they are with everything else, but Jaal seemed to claim up the moment she mentioned soulmates and their marks.

“No, no, we are, as a people very open about our mates. I just,” He hesitated, gaze dropping to the folded hands on his lap. “I don't have one.”

“Oh.” Abigail shifted her feet. “I'm sorry.”

“It is not your fault.” Jaal assured. “What are your questions?”

She hesitated, part of her wanted to know but another part understood this pain. “Are you sure? I can uh talk to someone else?”

He chuffed at that. “Who?”

He had her there. Straightening her shoulders she began her questions. “How do your soulmates work?”

“When a pair of angara are born from the same star there is a preexisting link to their souls.” Jaal unfolds his hands, eyes looking off in the distance. “Some say that it is a rebirth of old lovers. Reincarnated to come together, to be whole, complete.” Something sad filters across his face as he speaks.

Abigail understood that look all too well. To be a fractured soul, incomplete.

Broken.

“And the soulmarks?” She inquires tentatively, almost scared to break him away from his thoughts.

Jaal blinked his blue eyes focusing back on her. “We dream.”

“Oh?” She leaned forward eager. “What are they like?”

There seemed to be a delayed pause on his part as he stared at something over her right shoulder. “I have never experienced it myself, so this is all….second hand knowledge.” His hands rub together. “Most of the bonded pairs I’ve spoken to say their dreams are vivid realities that they build together with their link. They talk about the love and warmth poured within them. Some can even convey thoughts through them.”

Nothing like her dreams.

“I see...do you know about any soulmark that can cause another heart beat?”

This seems to shock Jaal as he leaned forward suddenly. “Do you feel another heart?” He almost seemed excited by the prospect.

“I...yes.” She presses her fingers to the spot, feeling the odd sensation beneath their tips. Strong steady beats that pumped faster than hers.

Abigail jumped when he threw his head back laughing. “Joyous news!” Jaal clapped her shoulders before pulling her into a hug.

“Jaal, hey-you got to explain.” Abigail stumbled when he released her, a bewildered look crossing his face.

“Is finding a soulmark not a happy occasion for your people?”

“No it is!” Abigail shook her head. “But I don’t-I thought you said angara dream?”

“We do, but our bond links two souls together. Does your soulmarks not do the same?”

“Not like that.” She held her arm up, pulling back her sleeve where the cartoon giraffe lay with big, twinkling eyes. “Our uh human soulmarks allow the transfer of ink between skin.”

Jaal reaches out for her arm, pausing he glances to her face, asking for permission. Abigail nodded offering him the limb which he takes with warm palms. There’s an electric pulse where they touch, all the little hairs stand on end in reaction. Jaal gives a thoughtful hum, fingers rubbing across her skin.

“I did not realize you were so soft.” He traces over the little hairs standing at attention with a curious stroke, watching their movement “Or that you are actually covered in hair….it’s so fine here I didn’t even notice it before”

Snorting at the ticklish touch, Abigail shows off her other arm. “Yeah well... even in the Milky Way Galaxy we were the only aliens with hair. Sort of funny to come so far only to find that’s still true. Guess that makes us special.”

Big blue eyes glanced up at her. “Indeed.” He turned his attention back to the ink. “If you feel the bond, have your soulmark, and dream-.”

“I don’t dream.” Abigail cut him off, pulling her arm back to curl around her stomach, as if to protect herself.

“You…..don’t dream?” He seemed bothered by this.

“Not-I mean I do dream but it’s not the way you described it...it's cold and dark... very hazy… almost kind of foggy so I can’t see anything….and it feels like I’m being stalked?”

His brow dipped together in thought. This was truly something he never heard before between soulmates. “Have you ever seen him?”

“No.” She almost shuddered at the thought, the desperation that clings to her after the dreams, the absolute need, it was like an obsession. “No I haven’t. Whatever it was... it didn’t feel like a person.” She could see his slight alarm at that last bit

“Ryder tell me exactly what you dream about.”

“Uh some nights it's just nothing. Like I’m in darkness and its-its cold….” Abigail wanted to say like Voeld but the angara didn’t seemed bothered by the freezing temperatures there.

“It could be because the two of you keep different sleeping schedules.” Jaal surmised. Which made sense to Abigail. “And the other times?”

“I...It’s hard to see, kinda...like there’s a thick cloud of smog covering everything. And there's this-this desperation to find...something. I don’t know.” She runs a hand through her hair, tousling the thick strands. “It's scary how deep I feel it Jaal, like I can’t breathe from the want.” “I have a theory… what was your first dream in Andromeda like?”

“Blinding,” She whispered thinking back onto the dream. “I remember I was standing on-on Eos, where I drew-” Her hands fly to her mouth. “Where I drew my first picture! Jaal I dreamt of the sunset I drew, but it was kinda murky like I was looking at it underwater.” It was hard to describe the lucid dream, how it was blinding and hazy at the same time. Bright yet dusty. “I remember turning around and there was….something lurking in the distance and then everything just went dark.” “He saw you.” Jaal rubbed at his chin “He must have been so confused when he saw you. Sometimes, when one of a bonded pair becomes distressed during that first dream, it can compromise the link. Not destroy it, but make it difficult to reconnect.”

“What if-what if he didn’t like what he saw?” What if he saw her and rejected her because she was alien?

“Even if he did not at first, your intended has clearly come to terms with it. These dreams you fear are his efforts to re-establish that link. If your mate was dreamless before the Initiative’s arrival to Andromeda, it more than explains why his desperation for you is so terrible. Were I in his place…” Jaal’s face grew wistful “I would tear apart the stars themselves to find my one and only.”

Abigail licked her lips leaning forward. “How do I...how do we get the link back?”

“I do not know Ryder….perhaps one of the elders on Harval might know.” He looked down at his omnitool. “I will contact my family, see if one of them knows the answer.”

Nodding she traces the picture before looking up at Jaal. “If he’s-if he’s angara why doesn’t he reply?” She waves at her skin, distressed.

“Ryder,” Jaal clasps her shoulders in a soothing manner. “My people haven’t used written pen in a long time.”

“Oh!” Her jaw drops open in shock. “They-they don’t? B-but my soulmark was written in ink.”

“Perhaps they acquired a brush….” He thought about it. “I think the elders on Harval have a few and the repository of history should have some. But ink would be even more difficult to obtain.”

“How am I supposed to find them if I can’t communicate with them!” Abigail could feel the cusp of hopelessness rising.

“Do not lose heart Ryder, you will find him.” Jaal patted her shoulder. “I could write a message for you, explaining everything.” Jaal offered holding out his hand.

“NO!” They both jumped at the force of her refusal. “I mean,” Abigail cleared her throat. “Thanks but no... Jaal.” It felt wrong to have someone else draw on her arm, to communicate with her soulmate.

Jaal seemed to understand as he nodded.

“Could you-could you teach me Shelesh?” She asked and he beamed at her. Jaal was a ready teacher, and she was a quick learner. By the end of the night she was drawing across her arm in red ink, the same shade as the line that first connected them.

Soulbond. You. Me. Happy. New. Traveler. Find You.

It seemed primitive sounding, but her arm was only so long, and it got her intent across. We are meant to be, I’m happy to have you. I’ve come a long way to find you. And I will.

She had wanted to add her name, but Jaal pointed out that shelesh didn’t have a word that matched her name or title.  He also didn’t want her to give away too much, for fear that they could belong to the Roekaar.  A thought that had disturbed her for a moment before she decided she would love them anyway, they were meant to be after all.

When nothing came back in reply she wasn’t surprised. Yes she yearned for an answer, craved it in deep within her soul even though Abigail knew there would be no reply. But it was fine because now she knew what she was looking for. She hoped he would be on Aya where they were heading next.

The beautiful paradise hidden by the scourge. Abigail sighed, fingers stroking across her sloppy shelesh, Jaal confirmed it look like a pup had done it and assured her it was legible when she panicked.

Nibbling her bottom lip Abigail wondered what he would look like. Would he be big like Jaal was? Or more like one of the recruits she had seen, smaller? thinner? What of his skin? Would he be purple or green or….

Blue.

A harsh scowling face flashed before her eyes. A smile curved her lips at the thought of those cynical looks. If they were on Aya it meant she got the luxury of seeing the resistance leader again.

Abigail wistfully sighed at the thought.

All the angara seemed to have the same eyes, except him. His eyes, though beautiful like nebula dust scattered across the stars, were so bleak. Something she suspected reflected the man perfectly. His mouth was pressed into a hard line, dipping lower the longer she talked to him till the scars lining his face were stretched thin and taut. He looked as hard and cold as his position demanded of him.

Yet there was something compelling... lurking beneath that emerald blue skin.

Even if he was a pain in the ass to talk to.

Okay… he wasn’t that bad.

In fact the harsh scowl upon his face was far more amusing to her than it should have been. Even when he was growling for her to leave she merely smiled and just couldn’t help thinking how... adorable he was. It was almost cute how completely baffled Evfra seemed to be by her reactions. The man was obviously so used to making others piss themselves with just a glare, that he had no idea how to respond when that didn’t happen. Hell, the resistance recruits and even Jaal seemed amazed at her complete lack of fear in their Leader’s presence.

She had to be missing something because Evfra just wasn’t scary or intimidating at all. Sure he was a gruff and no nonsense leader with plenty of combat experience but there was nothing about him that stuck out to her as particularly foreboding.

Especially once she realized that Evfra acted extra aggressive when she was around, something she only found out about because she had overheard two recruits complaining to each other

“Oh skkut, the Tempest is back on Aya”

“Again?! ….what are the odds that the Pathfinder isn’t visiting HQ this time?”

“Slim to none”

“Skkut I’m still trying to recover from last time”

“Oh right you uh, you dropped a datapad while he was talking with her”

Abigail remembered it, Evfra had suddenly whipped around and snarled a rather vicious lecture at the poor man about carelessness. Once the victim was sufficiently shaking in his boots, Evfra had calmly turned back to her… oddly puffing his chest. She had no idea what he was looking for in her expression but when he didn’t find it he just seemed… oddly disappointed?

Which had her smiling at him. An action that baffled her as much as him.

There was an excited bubble in her gut at the prospect of all the things Aya possibly held for her. She was looking forward to seeing the secret utopia again….

And him.

Hello my Lovelies! I have returned to you, refreshed and burned! Whooh would have thought? Thankfully here were no seagull attacks. AND-

-HERE'S THE CHAPTER YOU'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR! YAY!

Sorry it took so long, there was somethings that needed to be done. My Dad's going in for a colonoscopy Monday, so if you all could say a little pray for a clean bill I'd really appreciate it!

As always thank you for all the love you send our way!

Now a message from @lunamkardas

Awwww Poor Evfra instinctively trying to impress the pathfinder with how much of a big scary male he is...and he doesn’t know he’s doing it.

Till next time: The skins reveal!

[pixiethedm]

Something, Something, Something - What Have I Been Doing?

I have theoretically been busy. However, the reality of the matter is that I have been lazing about, enjoying a de-stressed life as a university student, doing light amounts of work, getting used to the lifestyle, and playing games. I could blab about the demands of the education and the constraints it places on my fragile, blessed free-time, but I shan’t. Instead, allow me to recount what has taken up a large sum of my creative output over the last few months and days.

New Campaign Success

My university has a tabletop and board gaming society, which makes me very happy indeed. They are wonderful people and I couldn’t be happier. As of October, 2016, the society announced the beginning of that year’s RP games - of which I had organised to partake in as a DM, running Pathfinder (because of course.)

This campaign is one that I had been quietly working on for a sizable amount of time, with a hefty level of detail manufactured into every fibre of its construct. I titled it ‘Silver in the Mists’, and I must add that it has been one of the greatest games I have played in for a long time, perhaps even of all-time. This is in no small part due to the sheer quality of players that I have. All of which are first-years - like myself - and all of which are friendly, intelligent, supportive of eachother, and respectful to all involved. None are whom I would label as ‘problem players’, and each and every one is fantastic to run for.

A Good Adventure is Worth Three Good Stories

I have always been told that pride is equivocal with that of base sins. It is a reclusive, selfish blend of greed and lust, shaped by ignorance and isolation from truth. Sod that, i’m father-fucking proud of my work.

I could wax about how I have written the greatest story and how the story will impress the players. Sod that too. No, I wrote a damned good adventure within a simple, non-complex narrative frame that drives mechanical themes for the players to sit down with and never be lost within the high concepts or alien environments.

The setting was clear; a decade ago, the distant colony you call home was settled by three allied kingdoms of generic, pre-apocalypse fantasy-land. Here, the ‘civilised’ armies waged a grueling conflict against the indigenous natives and were winning. Desperate and facing certain defeat, the native leaders sought the guidance of their forgotten gods, begging for a solution. The deific beings answered by pouring forth a cascade of deathly mists onto the lowlands, swelling over the conquered lands and reclaimed cities taken by the invading armies. These mists killed all within, leaving the only survivors being those who lived atop the southern mountain range along the coast.

Themes of a low-power, gritty, hardcore game were introduced immediately. The players would fight through as their journey was impeded by hostile wildlife - both weird and deadly -, the relentless, unpredictable weather, and the isolation from traders, healers, and other utilities taken from granted.

This setting is simple, understandable, and the players loved the fact that they always knew where they were, what they were doing, and why. I never had to correct their interpretations of information, nor did I have to reiterate things that I had already had mentioned.

First Time for Everything ...

I decided, veeeeerrry early on, to have the first chapter be overclouded by one, singular mechanic; the players had two-weeks to complete their job, otherwise, they would not be paid, and their employer would send in the cavalry to clean-up.

This worked wonders, with the players purposefully choosing less-than optimal choices based solely on the time limit they were burdened with, whilst also keeping them informed with a context as to the extent of their journey. Also, the return journey they went on was tense, with a blizzard making the journey horrible, impacting their ranged combat, blinding their senses, and freezing their bodies as they slept. I loved how the worked with it. Great stuff.

... But Some Things Cannot Change

I cannot roll dice for shit when a boss-encounter happens. I had a 60 hp mini-boss brute of an orc get bested by level 1 adventurers because he couldn’t roll above an 8.

But seriously.

My big-bad got killed by a horse-hoof.

It’s been a lot of fun.

Anyway, let’s get back to the regular posts. See you all soon.