#thread┊come dance with me

[herbrokenmelodies]

Come Dance With Me

who: Himiko & Jackson @viillaincoded where: Abyss when: Somewhere in the hours of the Night

Owning a club gave Himiko a gateway to meet all sort of people from all walks of life. It was one of the things that she adored about running Abyss. No single night was ever the same. Each person that walked through the door had their own stories, problems, pain, happiness and tears. Each came to the club to celebrate, forgive, forget, regret or well be a night in there story. No matter what anyone was going through, Himiko only hoped that Abyss could be the place that those who enter could just be. After all for her Abyss had been the place she'd made the greatest connections, her closest friends, business deals, the hottie that she kept her company at night.

Himiko really made sure that she was the hostess with the mostest. She didn't want to be some rich girl who owned a club. She wanted to be a face that people approached and talked too and heck she knew she was a lucky one. Each night she could slip into the crowd, be your best friend, a shoulder to cry on, the one who kept the party going or Songstress helping to keep the good vibes going.

Sure she had owned the club since she got her powers but maybe this was the year she upped the use of her powers. Play around and maybe get a little stronger with them? Hmm it was only a passing thought at least. But for now was one of the nights were she just didn't want to think, she wanted to have a good time.

Scanning the crowd looking for her victim of the night. Someone to keep her company, when she catches it. "Jackson! Jackson!" Himiko calls from the VIP section jumping up and down waving her hands that others were also looking at her and then into Jackson's direction! "Hey Jackson come dance with me!"

[nxttheendxfthestxry]

Closed Starter: Going to Be Okay (James/Ciri/Bonuses)

He's through the woods as fast as his legs can carrying him, clearing obstacles including a small flame, coughing but not stopping, never stopping.

He has to find her.

There is no other option.

James coughs as he bursts through the treeline, seeing her, not even seeing the others, running straight up--

Hitting a barrier and backing off slightly, his hand coming to his head, shaking himself off quickly and recovering. "CIRI!"

Cora looks up, alarmed. What the--? She looks to her brothers. Cal looks surprised and a bit confused.

Meredith has her head down, arms curled over her head. She'd stopped crying a long while ago. She didn't have any tears left. She doesn't look up at the cry. She didn't have any hope left, either.

Brandon Breyer glances to his sister and her counterpart, raising an eyebrow. Was that... his uncle, at a younger age?

Maruca's eyes widen and she looks to Atlas. They'd finally made it out here, for all the good it had been. Wylie looks up, lighting up with hope. It had to be, didn't it?

@storystartsanew

[remthebombshell]

rem's biggest issue is balancing his duty with caring for the ppl he loves (or just the people around him, see: roen) and having it backfire in the worst way possible methinks

[bivampir]

this episode made me loustat endgame truther btw

[paintingformike]

watching byler and mleven scenes back to back actually puts things more in perspective and it’s making me laugh because...most byler scenes have always been treated way more seriously and with more emotional depth than mleven scenes. theres just so much more tension and intimacy evident between them and it gets 10x doubled in their heart to hearts in season 4 while mleven remains either being played for laughs or having pretty surface level conversations until they actually have a realer fight? like...byler really isnt that much of a secret at all, its being developed right in front of our eyes 😭

no cause imagine mike and el talking to each other with the same level of tension in the desert heart to heart or even just having a single conversation that is as deep and serious as that, or even mike opening up to el the way he does with will...you can’t, can you? because mleven scenes are never handled or treated with as much care as byler scenes 😴

[pepprs]

having some time alone in the hotel this week (which is abt to end bc we’re moving back home tmrrw even though the renovation isn’t finished 🤪🤪🤪🤪🤪🤪) and being able to have the bedroom to myself has made me think rebellious thoughts my family would be very offended over. like maybe i listened to less and less music these last few years due in part to the fact that ive spentmore time at home than i used to and i also lived on campus w roommates in a very uncomfortable arrangement and im unable to move freely about the cabin when im living w other ppl whose needs don’t align w mine and so ive just gotten used to not having all of my needs met and always being the person to take the short end of the stick…. but i actually need to be able to sing and dance and draw and do whatever and when im alone (which is almost never) im able to do that and that’s actually legit and as important as anyone else’s needs in a space i share w them. idk if i worded that well but yeah

[hopkei]

Keito and Sota x Tell Me

[reginaes]

tag drop part two

[medaeium]

tag drop : admin part one

[faetch]

tag drop : admin part two

[ch1maeras]

new tag drop / test part two

[ghostjelliess]

We've been so many people together, I don't know which version to display at The Event.

[blessthisbrckenroad]

Tag Dump

[umabloomer]

I got a job at a Ukrainian museum.

On the first day someone asks me if I have any Ukrainian heritage. I say I had ancestors from Odesa, but they were Jewish, so they weren’t considered Ukrainian, and they wouldn’t have considered themselves Ukrainian. My job is every day I go through boxes of Ukrainian textiles and I write a physical description, take measurements, take photographs, and upload everything into the database. I look up “Jewish” in the database and there is no result. 

Some objects have no context at all, some come with handwritten notes or related documents. I look at thick hand-spun, hand-woven linen heavy with embroidery. Embroidery they say can take a year or more. I think of someone dressed for a wedding in their best clothes they made with their own hands. Some shirts were donated with photographs of the original owners dressed in them, for a dance at the Ukrainian Labour Temple, in 1935. I handle the pieces carefully, looking at how they fit the men in the photos, and how they look almost a hundred years later packed in acid-free tissue. One of the men died a few years later, in the war. He was younger than I am now. The military archive has more photographs of him with his mother, his father, his fiancé. I take care in writing the catalogue entry, breathing in the history, getting tearful. 

I imagine people dressed in their best shirts at Easter, going around town in their best shirts burning the houses of Jews, in their best shirts, killing Jews. A shirt with dense embroidery all over the sleeves and chest has a note that says it is from Husiatyn. I look it up and find that it was largely a Jewish town, and Ukrainians lived in the outskirts. There is a fortress synagogue from the Renaissance period, now abandoned. 

When my partner Aaron visits I take him to an event at the museum where a man shows his collection of over fifty musical instruments from Ukraine, and he plays each one. Children are seated on the floor at the front. We’re standing in a corner, the room full of Ukrainians, very aware that we look like Jews, but not sure if anyone recognizes what that looks like anymore. Aaron gets emotional over a song played on the bandura. 

A note with a dress says it came from the Buchach region. I find a story of Jewish life in Buchach in the early twentieth century, preparing to flee as the Nazis take over. I cry over this.

I’m cataloguing a set of commemorative ribbons that were placed on the grave of a Ukrainian Nationalist leader, Yevhen Konovalets, after he was assassinated. The ribbons were collected and stored by another Nationalist, Andriy Melnyk, who took over leadership after Konovalets’ death. The ribbons are painted or embroidered with messages honouring the dead politician. I start to recognize the word for “leader”, the Cyrillic letters which make up the name of the colonel, the letters “OYH” which stand for Organization of Ukrainian Nationalists (OUN in English). The OUN played a big part in the Lviv pogroms in 1941, I learn. The Wikipedia article has a black and white image of a woman in her underwear, running in terror from a man and a young boy carrying a stick of wood. The woman’s face is dark, her nose may be bleeding. Her underwear is torn, her breast exposed. I’m measuring, photographing, recording the stains and loose threads in the banners that honour men who would have done this to me. 

Every day I can’t stop looking at my phone, looking up the news from Gaza, tapping through Instagram stories that show what the news won’t. Half my family won’t talk to the other half, after I share an article by a scholar of Holocaust and genocide studies, who says Israel is committing a genocide. My dad makes a comment that compares Gaza to the Warsaw Ghetto. This gets him in trouble. My aunt says I must have learned this antisemitism at university, but there is no excuse for my dad. 

This morning I see images from Israeli attacks in the West Bank, where they are not at war. There are naked bodies on the dusty ground. I’m not sure if they are alive. This is what I think of when I see the image from the Lviv pogrom. If what it means for Jews to be safe from oppression is to become the oppressor, I don’t want safety. I don’t want to speak about Jews as if we are one People, because I have so little in common with those in green uniforms and tanks. I am called a self-hating Jew but I think I am a self-reflecting Jew.

I don’t know how to articulate how it feels to be handling objects which remind me of Jewish traumas I inherited only from history classes and books. Textiles hold evidence of the bodies that made them and used them. I measure the waist of a skirt and notice that it is the same as my waist size. I think of clothing and textiles that were looted from Jewish homes during pogroms. I think of clothing and textiles that were looted from Palestinian homes during the ongoing Nakba. Clothes hold the shape of the body that once dressed in them. Sometimes there are tears, mends, stains. I am rummaging through personal belongings in my nitrile gloves. 

I am hands-on learning about the violence caused by Ukrainian Nationalism while more than nine thousand Palestinians have been killed by the State of Israel in three weeks, not to mention all those who have been killed in the last seventy-five years of occupation, in the name of the Jewish Nation, the Jewish People — me? If we (and I am hesitant to say “we”) learned anything from the centuries of being killed, it was how to kill. This should not have been the lesson learned. Zionism wants us to feel constantly like the victims, like we need to defend ourself, like violence is necessary, inevitable. I need community that believes in freedom for all, not just our own People. I need the half of my family who believes in this necessary “self-defence” to remember our history, and not just the one that ends happily ever after with the creation of the State of Israel. Genocide should not be this controversial. We should not be okay with this. 

Tomorrow I will go to work and keep cataloguing banners that honour the leader of an organization which led pogroms. I will keep checking the news, crying into my phone, coordinating with organizers about our next actions, grappling with how we can be a tiny part in ending this genocide that the world won’t acknowledge, out of guilt over the ones it ignored long ago. 

[greed-the-dorkalicious]

With the popularity of Planet of the Bass I've noticed a lot of people getting eurobeat and eurodance confused. This is understandable but also REALLY funny to me as a eurobeat girlie. Reigning Eurobeat queen Odyssey (you may know her as the girl behind "Discord I'm howlin at the moon") has a good Twitter thread on the subject, but to add my own summary that's hopefully not too jargon-y:

It's PROBABLY EUROBEAT if:

Main lyrical themes are cars/driving/going Very Fast, Touhou, My Little Pony, or Japan (though the latter is more of a grey area since Japan comes up as a theme in some eurodance as well)

Between every verse is a synthesizer riff that sounds too fast to ever possibly be played live by human hands

There's a section where all but the last word or so of every line is omitted (this is where "dancing, we wanna feel the light is flashing, I send the power to myself" becomes "dancing... flashing... to myself")

There's an electric guitar solo (may or may not be synthesized)

The rhythm is a straight four-on-the-floor beat, aka it sounds like WOMP WOMP WOMP WOMP

There's car vroom vroom sound effects

It's PROBABLY EURODANCE (at least as opposed to eurobeat) if:

There's a rapper

Themes include world peace or partying (there are SOME party eurobeat songs but not as many, and it's not like eurobeat is pro-war, they're just driving too fast to think about it)

It's more downtempo

The rhythm is a shuffle beat, aka it sounds like WA-WOMP WA-WOMP

It's in a language other than English or Japanese

It's DEFINITELY eurobeat if:

The YouTube thumbnail looks like this or otherwise involves an anime character and a car

Eurobeat songs you may know include Running in the 90s, Deja Vu, Gas Gas Gas, The Top, Night of Fire, and an honorable mention to The Living Tombstone's remix of Odyssey's eurobeat remix of Discord.

Eurodance songs you may know include Every Time We Touch, Butterfly, Caramelldansen, Cotton-Eye Joe (yes, really!), Dragostea Din Tei, and Blue.

HOPE THIS HELPS!!!!!!!

[voidfell]

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