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thechanelmuse · 11 months

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Jackie Ormes, the first Black American woman cartoonist

When the 14-year-old Black American boy Emmett Till was lynched in 1955, one cartoonist responded in a single-panel comic. It showed one Black girl telling another: "I don't want to seem touchy on the subject... but that new little white tea-kettle just whistled at me!"

It may not seem radical today, but penning such a political cartoon was a bold and brave statement for its time — especially for the artist who was behind it. This cartoon was drawn by Jackie Ormes, the first syndicated Black American woman cartoonist to be published in a newspaper. Ormes, who grew up in Pittsburgh, got her first break as cartoonist as a teenager. She started working for the Pittsburgh Courier as a sports reporter, then editor, then cartoonist who penned her first comic, Torchy Brown in Dixie to Harlem, in 1937. It followed a Mississippi teen who becomes a famous singer at the famed Harlem jazz club, The Cotton Club.

In 1942, Ormes moved to Chicago, where she drew her most popular cartoon, Patty-Jo 'n' Ginger, which followed two sisters who made sharp political commentary on Black American life.

In 1947, Ormes created the Patty-Jo doll, the first Black doll that wasn't a mammy doll or a Topsy-Turvy doll. In production for a decade, it was a role model for young black girls. "The doll was a fashionable, beautiful character," says Daniel Schulman, who curated one of the dolls into a recent Chicago exhibition. "It had an extraordinary presence and power — they're collected today and have important place in American doll-making in the U.S."

In 1950, Ormes drew her final strip, Torchy in Heartbeats, which followed an independent, stylish black woman on the quest for love — who commented on racism in the South. "Torchy was adventurous, we never saw that with an Black American female figure," says Beauchamp-Byrd. "And remember, this is the 1950s." Ormes was the first to portray black women as intellectual and socially-aware in a time when they were depicted in a derogatory way.

One common mistake that erased Ormes from history is mis-crediting Barbara Brandon-Croft as the first nationally syndicated Black American female cartoonist. "I'm just the first mainstream cartoonist, I'm not the first at all," says Brandon-Croft, who published her cartoons in the Detroit Free Press in the 1990s. "So much of Black history has been ignored, it's a reminder that Black history shouldn't just be celebrated in February."

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#jackie ormes #black american history #black history #black cartoonist #black comics #comics #barbara brandon croft #barbara brandon #black artists

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fictional-worlds-are-exquisite · 2 years

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HAHAHA DID THE ALL BLACKS LOSE? fuuuuuck remind me to avoid the general public for the next few days skhdfkshdfs here comes the country wide gloom i guess

shot ireland fuckin killing it tho

#nah cause every fucking time this happens suddenly this talk of a country wide depression appears #your fucking neighbour the dairy owner the courier the cafe worker. all damn. you see the game ? :( so sad :(#no i didn't. and i don't care very much. i am glad you do. but i am not part of the mass depression wave. do not bring it upon me #also i fuckin HATE all the articles and comments that come out like 'if the all blacks had done this better...' or 'all blacks just missed x #ADMIT THE OPPOSITION PLAYED A GOOD GAME YOU FUCKS #all blacks this all blacks that NO. SAY IRELAND PLAYED WELL. COWARDS #i don't watch rugby #but #it's a personal annoyance of mine every single time this happens #oh the mighty all blacks...the only way they could've been defeated is if they did something wrong...couldn't POSSIBLY be bc the opposition #played really well...that's IMPOSSIBLE #be good sports. recognise the opposition. fucks #anyway. none of the fellow kiwis following me take me out for this opinion pls #don't disown me

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marlynnofmany · 1 year

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Stabby the One and Only

“Oh no, there are more of you,” Zhee said drily.

I grinned. “Zhee, this is Captain Parker of the good ship Hold My Beer.”

“A pleasure,” said Captain Parker, smiling with bright teeth in a dark face. A twitch of his arm said he’d been about to go for a handshake, then fully noticed Zhee’s pincher arms. He bowed instead.

“Yes, good greetings,” Zhee said, bending his front legs briefly to lower his eye level in a similar bow. “Is your ship all humans, or do you have someone else to keep you in line? With a name like that, I have my guesses.”

“All human!” Captain Parker said. “We’re just stopping by for fuel on our way to Basal Station.” He waved back towards the sporty silver cruiser that was easily the classiest thing at this out-of-the-way spaceport.

“Oh hey, us too!” I told him. “Our ship is the little lemon-looking dealie over there.”

“Nice, nice,” he said once he’d spotted it. “Solar sails, always a classic. What species’ model is that? I don’t think I’ve seen it before.”

“Uh, Strongarm?” I guessed with a look to Zhee. “Right? It’s the same as Kamm’s ship, and seemed like a family thing.”

Zhee tipped his head at what would be an extreme angle on a human. “Who can keep track?” he said. “It is fuel-efficient and spacious enough, and that is all that matters.”

“We’re doing courier work,” I told Captain Parker. “Delivering some art right now for a big to-do on Basal.”

“We’re headed to our own to-do,” he said with pride. “In the sports sector.”

“Oh cool, what sport?”

He was about to tell me when a lumpy golden monstrosity of a warship roared to the ground, barely clearing the other nearby ships. Repulsor engines blasted a gust of wind that threw spaceport grit into everyone’s eyes and nearly bowled over those standing too close. That included a handful of humans carrying supplies onto their own ship, every one of whom yelled about it.

The ship was silent for a moment, long enough for two of the humans to run over to their captain, and for many other bystanders to cast disapproving looks. That sort of landing seemed deliberately rude. Had they meant it that way?

Oh yeah, they had.

“HUMANS!” bellowed a voice from the ship’s speakers. “Hand over your mascot. You have one chance before we open fire from orbit.” Various gunports flashed weaponry.

Bystanders panicked and ran, some for ships and some for the nearby buildings. No security forces emerged, because this little port wasn’t up to dealing with that degree of threat. The golden ship had picked a smart place for a shakedown.

Paint raced out of a building to wave us toward our ship, worried and fidgety in a blur of orange scales. “Let’s go!” she urged.

I was about to object that we hadn’t gotten fuel yet when Captain Parker shouted back. “What mascot do you mean?”

“Don’t play games, human,” the loudspeaker replied. “Your stabbing droid. Bring it out now.”

“Oh, that mascot,” said Captain Parker with deceptive calm. “Just a minute.” He huddled with the pair who’d come to see him.

Paint tugged at my arm, but I dragged my feet, wanting to know their answer.

The huddle separated. “Okay, you can have him,” Captain Parker yelled. “But come out and get him yourself, you cowards.”

Zhee hissed behind me and Paint squeaked. Angry growls sounded over the loudspeaker, then a hatch opened to admit a half-dozen pissed off dinosaurs.

Not dinosaurs, I thought. Armorlites. Bipedal, toothy, and widely known for not playing well with others. Their entire culture seemed to revolve around strength and superiority. I couldn’t think of a time when I’d seen one NOT act like a bully.

They also called themselves The Mighty, but no one else did. “Armorlite” was the best they were going to get, a reference to the thin scales that did nothing to protect the muscles they were so proud of.

“Hand it over!” bellowed the tall one in front, aiming a gun across the spaceport at Captain Parker.

“Yeah yeah, just a second,” he replied, the very picture of calm and collected. He waved toward his own ship. Someone appeared at the hatch, carrying an inert cleaning droid with a knife strapped to it. “Let me just say goodbye to him.”

Paint stopped pulling abruptly. “Wait, is that the one all the stories are about?” she asked. “That is an icon! A treasure to your people! And they’re just going to give it away?”

“Hang on,” I whispered. “I think he’s got a plan.”

Captain Parker was making a show of it, saluting dramatically and declaring at length what an honor it had been to travel with such a legend. The woman holding the legend in question stood ramrod-straight, and turned to make the delivery with all solemnity. Other humans lined up in front of their ship to salute. A wordless but inspiring song was suddenly playing on the loudspeakers. It was an over-the-top production.

And the Armorlites were loving it. They swaggered forward to accept their prize, with the leader handing his gun to an underling so he could snatch the droid from the human, who retreated in silence.

“Take good care of him,” Captain Parker said in a strained voice. “Make sure you keep his battery charged.”

The Armorlite held his prize up and sneered at the human, launching into a description of everything he was going to do with the precious human mascot. None of it was good.

“…Peel off another section of its casing each day!” he raved. “All will fear The Mighty, who have claimed Stabby the Roomba for their own!”

They weren’t looking at the human ship, but I sure was. The saluting crew all stepped to the side as a whole fleet of cleaning droids trundled down the ramp, silent under cover of the music. Each one wore a knife in stabbing position: right at ankle height.

Armorlite ankle scales are especially weak.

The first Armorlite to get shanked made a squeal of surprise, flailing with his gun rather than shooting it. The others didn’t react quickly enough to avoid the same fate: they looked to their companion’s face for answers, only to be attacked from below. The leader avoided it the longest, dodging to the side and yelling at his crew to fight back, but the droids had circled around him, and it was only a matter of time.

Just as he bellowed in pain, a precision laser unfolded from the human ship and zapped each gun in turn.

The leader dropped the Roomba to crack loudly on the pavement.

He snarled down at it, at the menacing droids, at the humans, and at the laser aimed at his head. Then he pushed past his underlings to limp back to the ship, a fleet of droids in slow pursuit. The Armorlites all made it onboard and shut the door. In moments, the captain was shouting from the loudspeaker about his plans to rain destruction from above. The ship blasted skyward with another gust of hot air.

I opened my eyes once the dust cloud was past to see Captain Parker still standing there. “Aren’t you going to stop him?” I asked, worried.

“Already did,” he told me. “Jenkins snuck Stabby’s cousin Blasty onboard when they weren’t looking. Told him to find the engine room.”

A muffled explosion sounded from the upper atmosphere. I looked up to see the golden ship veering sideways, trailing smoke.

Captain Parker saluted. “Farewell, Blasty Number Thirty-Two. You went out like a champ.” He stepped forward to pick up the cracked droid while the Armorlite ship disappeared across the horizon, not managing to fire a single weapon.

Paint and Zhee moved closer. “Your poor mascot,” Paint said. “Can it be repaired?”

“What, this?” Captain Parker asked. “This doesn’t even have a battery. It’s just spare parts.”

“Oh!” Paint said, perking up.

Zhee cocked his head. “Do you have the real one, or were they wrong about that?”

Captain Parker waved a hand at the fleet of droids that were currently getting rounded up by his crew. “We have LOTS of real ones! We’re on our way to the droid jousting league championships.”

I laughed. “Did they hear some of that and think you had the Single One And Only Human Mascot Stabby?”

“Yup! Sure looks that way.”

Paint was amazed. “I didn’t know there were so many!”

Zhee angled his pinchers in exasperation. “Of course there’s not just one. That’s expecting too much sanity and good sense from humans in general.”

“To be fair,” I said, “I don’t think there was ever just one. Sure, the famous one may have had more adventures than most, but the jury’s out on how many of those adventures were even the same Stabby.”

Captain Parker nodded. “And what fun is good sense?”

“Exactly!” I said.

Zhee stuck his bug eyes up close to my face. “No, you can’t have one.”

“I wasn’t going to suggest it!” I said, grinning at the frowny-eyebrow slant of his antennae.

“Oh here, how about this?” Captain Parker dug something from his pocket and handed it to me. “The knife is rubber. We make ‘em for the kids; that’s our team logo.”

“I love it,” I told him, gazing at the palm-sized minidroid with the red chili pepper sticker.

“That had better not end up in my quarters,” Zhee declared while Paint got a good look at it. “I promise nothing in regards to stepping on it.”

“Yes, yes,” I said. “You have so many legs; how could you possibly keep track of them all?”

Zhee made a disparaging noise and clicked off toward the ship.

“Well, I should be going,” Captain Parker said as someone called for him. “See you at Basal Station, maybe!”

“Yeah, maybe!” I said. We waved our goodbyes as he rejoined his crew.

Paint was thinking hard as we turned to follow Zhee. “Do you think Captain Sunlight would be okay with a detour after we make our delivery?” she asked. “I want to see what that championship looks like.”

“It can’t hurt to ask!” I said, holding up my new minidroid. “Just don’t tell Zhee. At least not until she says yes.”

~~~

The ongoing adventures in backstory for this book. More to come!

#my writing #humans are weird #humans are space orcs #haso #hfy #Stabby the Roomba #Stabby the space Roomba #the Token Human

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pansear-doodles · 10 months

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Rivulet is now on art fight!

Description below

Name: Rivulet (Riv, Ruffles) Pronouns: Any/All Likes: Racing, Driving, Swimming, Sports, Gaming, Movies, Otherwise uncomfortable spaces to sleep in, Juice, Doing crazy batshit stuff, Squeezing things, Making faces, Staring at things Dislikes: Being stopped, Loneliness, Hot places, Listening to lectures, Sitting still, Overcomplicating, Losing, Pressure, Seeing their friends being upset

History: Rivulet came from unknown origin, but was found by Looks to the Moon as a wandering pup. She took them in and adopted them as their own, and for the next cycles Rivulet lived in the superstructure of their iterator mother until tragedy strikes. From Pebbles's inactions, Moon starts to erode, unable to maintain herself with the insufficient water supply. Around the height of the attacks, she was visited by Spearmaster who allows them to rewrite the pearl they hold to send their final message to the local group before her inevitable shutdown, to be sent to the Sky Islands. She tells Rivulet to leave before her structure falls, but they were insistent to stay. As she starts to break, Spearmaster forcefully carries Rivulet to evacuate to safety. They were devastated. Spearmaster offers Rivulet to accompany them to deliver the message to honor their mother's wish, and so they wouldn't have to go through grieving alone. Throughout their adventure, they became friends and Rivulet gained back a little bit of their confidence and energy. After parting with Spearmaster, Rivulet would spend the next few cycles trying to recover Moon's puppet and opening up the chambers. They took good care of the puppet and tried to ease their surroundings, moving away rubble and prettying up the place that was once their beloved home. One day, an orange slugcat arrives and delivers a green neuron, containing over a dozen slagkeys. These slagkeys clean up Moon's structure, awakening her. Rivulet was extremely grateful for the slugcat, Hunter, and befriended them, spending the little time they have before setting off on their own journey to find peace amongst themselves. As Rivulet wishes that their friends could stay longer, Spearmaster visits after consoling with their parent and decides to spend their time with Rivulet and Moon. They would then meet a young yellow slugcat named Monk, and their guidance, Saint, looking for their sibling and asking for directions. They befriend Monk easily, Saint aside, and accompany them to their journey back home. After finally reuniting with their sibling, the slugcats that accompanied each sibling find a newfound friendship. Later on, Rivulet would meet up with Five Pebbles, who privately asks them to take off their Mass Rarefaction Cell and give it to Looks to the Moon, as a form of their apology for all their wrongdoings. Rivulet tells their friends about it and even Moon herself, who obliges but is left concerned about her brother. This underhandedly contributed to Gourmand's idea to create The Agreement, where Five Pebbles and the other iterators help the slugcats thrive better and help them advance their new civilization, while they do maintenance work, including the creation of a new Mass Rarefaction cell for Five Pebbles. Rivulet continues to stay with their mother, in charge of maintaining the remains of her structure to keep her well and happy. They also become their own messenger, alike other iterators having their own slugcats as their personal couriers.

Personality: Rivulet is spontaneous and quite wacky. They are extremely energetic, expressionful and rash- they talk and move a lot- like a flowing river. They are very sociable but can be overwhelming to some who can't keep up or can't quite understand their thought processes. Rivulet of course is trying to learn how to slow down for others, but finds it quite difficult to take patience. They enjoy outgoing activities and do various daring stunts. They enjoy poking around with their friends and participate in whatever they're doing- and speaking of the such, they do care about deeply despite not looking like the caring type. They're rarely at their downtime. They can be overconfident, overzealous and naiive, often underestimating things, but they are otherwise courageous and follows what their heart tells them.

Biology: Rivulet has gills that allow them to breathe longer underwater. They have specialized eyes that can allow them to see things more clearly (though sometimes they require special goggles to see underwater), and a squishier body than what a regular slugcat exhibits. They can swim faster thanks to their frilled tail fin and they are extremely acrobatic and flexible. However, they struggle in drier and hotter places, as they require more moisture compared to other slugcats.

Appearance: Rivulet is a light blue slugcat with pink frills, dark blue eyes with pink sclera, fangs that constantly show, medium-sized ears and a chubby complexion. They have pink tattood top scars to symbolize their transition for self-change, liking the ideology of Ancient transgenderism- something their mother talked about from a pearl they collected. Thanks to their squishiness, their facial expressions are exaggerative. Rivulet likes wearing all kinds of outfits in varying degrees of ridiculousness. But they mostly like wearing sporty clothes. They are an adult.

Relationships: Spearmaster - Likes/Best Friends - They foil each other nicely. Spearmaster is the calm one while Rivulet is the talkative one- one can calm the other down and the other can encourage the other one. Rivulet has feelings for Spearmaster and can bit a little open about it through simple gestures, but they are otherwise comfortable being best friends for now. Hunter - Friends - Who wouldn't want to befriend the person who saved your mom? Well- they are friends regardless of that circumstance. They can be quite competitive, much like how Rivulet is competitive with... Artificer - Friends - Slightly grumpy friendly rival, but they're friends nonetheless. Rivulet sees them as the mom friend of sorts too. Monk - Friends - Enjoys playing with them a lot, as well as... Survivor - Friends - Altogether the three can come up with some fun gaming activities. Gourmand - Friends - Rivulet is always curious about whatever crazy science stuff they're doing. Saint - Neutral - A little suspicious! Nightcat - Neutral - Rivulet is a bit afraid of scaring Nightcat away, but is learning how to approach them. Enot - Dislikes - Rivulet finds flirting in that sense weird.

#rain world #rainworld #slugcat #fanart #rainworld downpour #rain world downpour #dp spoilers #downpour spoilers #rivulet #my anthro au #art fight #my art

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lark-wren · 6 months

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a doodle guide to Woven's dragons:

Someone on our discord server asked to know more about the physical features of the different types of dragons in Woven, specifically so that they could design their own dragon oc's! Lark was happy to oblige with this quick little sketchy diagram, haha. She adds "they all sport an assortment of neutral colors that follow these basic patterns. You can get dragons that are all one solid color, or dragons where each indicated section is a different color. And anything inbetween [eg, all white dragon except for a black mane]. Raptors[bird] cover the range of hues pretty well. courier birds (who, like the wyrms, are considered a byproduct) got all the bright colors lmao."

#woven #webtoon #lore stuff

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porbbamt · 2 years

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courier and benny are a silly divorced couple that get divorced as a sport and have scheduled makeout sessions on tuesday afternoons. courier and ULYSSES however are a tragic love story where ulysses fell in love from afar and then had to face the conflict of if the love for the courier or the love of his home was greater. he was torn to pieces, seeing his home destroyed and seeing the courier walk away, feeling abandoned by someone who never even knew his true feelings, and clamored to find someone to blame, only finding the courier at his fingertips. the love turned to a hatred, but he never truly could let go of those feelings, and when everything was over he couldn’t help but feel unaccomplished, like he hadn’t fixed anything. he had gone so far for revenge only to feel emptier than before. *taps the mic* is this thing on

#fallout #fnv #fallout new vegas #ulysses fnv #courier six #courier fnv #benny gecko #benny fnv #lonesome road #porb speaks

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tscnews · 11 months

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UFC 289: Charles Oliveira on Fighting Beneil Dariush, Islam Makhachev

UFC 289 Media Day Press Conference: Former champ Charles Oliveira on fighting Beneil Dariush in the UFC 289 co-main event and possibly getting a lightweight title rematch against champion Islam Makhachev!

#youtube #islam makhachev #charles oliveira #tsc news #tsc #the sports courier #sports courier #ufc 289 #beneil dariush

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aylish91 · 8 months

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Nagamob/Nagamafiatale ; )

Realizations

This was all those Snake bastards' fault. You should have never agreed to take on this delivery. You could have been relatively safe back at the Den or with the S.F. Brothers, but no! You thought you could handle this job in order to win back your freedom. It wasn’t supposed to be dangerous. Difficult, maybe. Dangerous, no. A simple and straightforward drop-off. Navigate through the northern district of the downtown area without being mugged or stopped and give the package to someone by the name of Dacio.

Easy!

And yet here you were...

Waiting just inside the loading bay of the old Wetherford’s Brick Factory, you had thought Dacio was just taking his time showing up. It was a common problem with people who chose to pick up in these types of areas. So naturally, when a black car with tinted windows showed up, you assumed it was him.

You were only half right.

You should have run the moment more than just Dacio stepped out of the car. You should have run faster when, after dodging being grabbed, several more vehicles cut off your escape. Now you were stuck, forced on your knees while a group of hostile suits surrounded you. Each one sporting the same silver pin on their left pocket.

A mongoose devouring a snake…

The approaching crunch of loose concrete and brick had your heart clenching.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the little Rocket!” A man with handsome blond hair and green eyes grinned down at you, Dacio not too far behind looking smug. “People used to pay a lot of money to use your service. Quite quick on your feet. It was a mistake making yourself the Snake’s personal pet. A real shame.” His grin turned sinister as he knelt on your level. “You would have been untouchable if you’d have stayed neutral.” Patting your cheek, he took the package from your now loose grip.

Sharp bitter feelings of betrayal swirled around in your guts. You hadn’t planned to be pulled into all of this mess. You didn’t start doing courier work to transport illegal wares or shady packages and it was not by choice that you ended up among the Snakes. You thought there was a need in the city for your work. With the rise of inflation and rent, you simply needed the extra cash. You never would have thought it would cause you to be kidnapped by the mafia!

That made the blond bastard’s words sting that much more. You were never truly going to be free after this job, were you? Not with a target painted on your back. Were you even meant to make it out of this alive at all?

You forced yourself to look away. Blondie gave an amused huff at your defeated look, standing to investigate the box. It was blessedly quiet while he cut it open.

A click.

“Bomb!!!”

It was impressive how fast he was able to throw it.

The box barely landed before exploding, causing your ears to ring and spots to cloud your sight. The man behind you yelped along with everyone else, pulling you up from the floor towards the general location of the car.

Disoriented and terrified, you fought. The more you struggled, the tighter the bruising grip on your arm became until you found yourself slammed against the side of one of the cars. It was at this point that your vision finally started to clear enough to notice the new bunch swarming in.

Snakes blocked the truck entrances into the factory, shooting several of your captors and scattering more further into the building. Don Red could be seen giving orders, cackling through a crazed grin behind walls of bone and magic.

The blond-haired man crouched behind the car next to your pinned form, carefully taking shots as others joined beside him. Cursing, he grabbed another man's gun out of his hands, pushing him out of the way to continue shooting.

“Idiots! Start the car! They won’t be able to shoot through the glass!”

Everyone shuffled as they followed the command, someone sliding through to the driver’s side while others piled in the back. You only fought harder once the pressure on your back loosened, smashing the back of your head into the nose of the man holding you. A few yards away, you felt the familiar push of heavy hands tackle you to the concrete floor.

Your head hit hard enough to stun you, the flash of a gun and the growled threats barely registering to your hazy mind. Movement high above seemed far more tolerable to watch as you tried to regain yourself.

You wanted to laugh.

Wrapped around the old scaffolding at the very top of the building, was the massive iridescent form of a sleek black and scarlet naga monster. It was satisfying watching them expertly glide down and under the walkway to hang from old supports. Then, with the glint of a self-satisfied smirk, its red eyelights flashed.

They dropped, sharpened bones forming to fall with them.

You were lucky you had managed to get yourself away from the car. The Massive coils of the naga weighed heavily against the car they landed on, partially crushing down the top. Anyone not already inside was not only assaulted by the angry naga, but also the falling bone attacks.

The man on top of you didn’t stand a chance. Attempting to flee, he was promptly grabbed by the sharp claws of a large skeletal hand before getting unceremoniously bitten and tossed.

You were probably going into some sort of shock from all the excitement and possible concussion. Remaining on the ground, you didn’t feel the need to run from being scooped up, staring up instead into the scarred socket and fire-like eyelights.

“RED!!! I’VE SECURED THE TARGETS. TAKE YOUR LITTLE HUMAN SO THE REST OF US CAN TAKE OUT THE TRA–”

His body jerked with a snarled hiss, rearing up and swiveling. Hanging part way out of a now open and cracked window was the blond. Judging by the useless pressing of his finger on the trigger, his ammunition was gone.

Your neck prickled.

“PATHETIC WORM!”

With one smooth motion, you were dropped amongst the safety of agitated coils as the naga lunged. You could hear pained yelps and garbled choking from your place between the rolling scales. As the wrestling subsided, the Don slithered to stand next to his brother, the gunfire blessedly silent.

Thick red smoke exhaled around the butt of a cigar. “Ya ight? Yer bleed’n.”

The coils tightened.

“SHUT UP, I’M FINE. I CAN’T SAY THE SAME FOR MY PATIENCE. NEXT TIME YOU AND SANS MAKE ANOTHER RIDICULOUS PLAN LIKE THIS, KEEP ME OUT OF IT. I DON’T APPRECIATE BEING PUT ON CLEANUP. MORE SO WHEN THERE ARE DISTRACTIONS.”

Red chuckled, carefully extracting you from being squeezed. “Didn’t see ya complain’n when ya got ta rain hell from above like some hero ‘n shit. Yer just cranky ya got yerself stung.”

The hellfire lights blazing in his brother’s sockets had Red backing up, his firm grip holding you to his chest. You were still too in shock to care.

“GET OUT BEFORE I KILL YOU MYSELF! I HAVE MORE IMPORTANT THINGS TO TAKE CARE OF.” With a shake to the choking blond, he turned to direct the Snakes in extracting the survivors within the car.

Another chuckle rumbled through Red’s chest, a downright lecherous grin pointedly sent your way as he spoke. “Don’t mind if we do. Heh. Time ta head home, Dollface.”

…

There really wasn’t any form of freedom outside of the Den, was there?

…

Something wasn’t adding up.

Grand Master Post Mafia Master List

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louisupdates · 3 months

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Review: Louis Tomlinson rocks Brisbane River Stage with Faith in the Future world tour

Louis Tomlinson ignited the Brisbane River Stage on Tuesday night, blending One Direction nostalgia with his new Indie-Pop hits, at the second Australian show of his Faith in the Future world tour.

Molly Snaylam | January 31, 2024 - 7:49AM

Courier Mail AU

Former One Direction star Louis Tomlinson took Brisbane’s River Stage by storm on Tuesday night, at his second show of three in Australia, as part of the Faith In The Future World Tour.

The 32-year-old singer performed to thousands of screaming and adoring fans, with some wearing their almost vintage-looking Directioner merchandise and others in Louis’ Brisbane tour T-shirts.

Tomlinson first performed in Brisbane with One Direction on their Take Me Home tour in 2013 and on Tuesday established himself as an independent Indie-Pop/Brit Rock artist, “making the music he wants to make”.

As the lights went down the crowd came alive with excitement as the band kicked in to accompany him for The Greatest, the opening track to his 2022 album Faith in the Future.

Tomlinson charismatically introduced himself to the crowd, not shying away from profanity, as he welcomed the audience to his tour, “It’s f---king hot tonight isn’t it Brisbane, we’re going to have a great time!” Tomlinson said.

“This scale and size of a show like this absolutely blows my f---king mind, I can feel this is going to be a special night,” he said.

The setlist was a perfect blend of his solo hits, fan favourites, and some surprises, showcasing the evolution of his music.

Tomlinson’s vocals were on point as he effortlessly transitioned from powerful anthems to more intimate moments.

The live arrangements brought a new dimension to familiar tracks, making them feel fresh and dynamic.

Throughout the night, it was clear Tomlinson has veered from his prior pop status and has embraced a ‘mod’ and rock feel with his new music, this was confirmed by him including a cover of the Arctic Monkeys' eerie smash hit 505.

His casual and cheeky northern Brit personality shone through as he sported a black singlet and grey joggers, showing off his iconic tattoos.

He was sure to interact with fans as he wandered around the stage, even taking selfies and posing with his band for a photo in front of the audience.

The relationship between Tomlinson and his fans is noticeably gratuitous and nostalgic, with in tears and others moshing with wide smiles as they danced the night away.

As a major One Direction fan myself – especially during my teenage years, I can appreciate the impact Tomlinson has had on the many young music lovers, who attended his show, during their adolescent years.

Witnessing his fans singing along to every tune, old and new, brought back fond memories of when I saw him perform with One Direction in 2013, seeing the fans who have grown up with his music and the worldwide hype of the band took me back to that night.

Tomlinson’s ability to convey vulnerability and strength resonated with fans, creating an intimate atmosphere in one of the city’s largest outside venues.

His casual, yet captivating stage presence and soothing vocals memorised the audience throughout the show.

Tomlinson said the goal of his Faith In The Future tour was to create a “great live experience on the next tour”, a goal he certainly fulfilled on Tuesday night.

The concert was a testament to his connection with his fans, leaving them eagerly anticipating what the future holds for his music.

FULL ARTICLE

#louis press #louis tomlinson #30.1.2024 #fitfwt24: brisbane

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1-800-deactivatednearu · 10 months

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happy pride :)

below the line is an introduction to everyone in this !!

@queensqueercourt's intern (they/them) and cyberspace's lee (she/her) and L (she/her)!

intern is lesbian and agender! the agender flag does not show up at all but the intent was in the jacket and ascot :) they are just totally unpaid but at least they got a cool taser out of it!

lee and L are zurks from the game stray! lee is the one on top, L is the one on bottom. they are both lesbians (lesbeans), and L is trans! mind your fingers (and your cats) around them :)

@beepartcollection's janitor (he/they) and @sicc-nasti's courier (he/him)!

janitor is trans and bi! just the janitor, he is not tied to one team or another, but rather jumps between teams depending on who needs his services most. his name is jay :)

courier is a bi disaster (and if there is a designated flag out there let me know! for science.) hes the red courier and commits federal crimes (reads your mail)! his name is brodie :)

jay and brodie are dating! their creators would never be mean to them ever. they would never.

@blu-cheavy (he/it/mer/merc), @inputs-chaos's target (he/they), and @sickknifetrick's butcher (he/him)!

cheavy's trans and also not a tf2 oc! literally just the guy himself. mers shirt slogan (live, laugh, lie to cops) is from beepie actually, people seem to really like it, i am so sorry that i cannot make it real.

target is aromantic, asexual, and trans! his name is actually short for target practice, where he gets killed a whole bunch by the team for sport but he comes back :) and then he dies again :( but he

butcher is gay! he handles food preparation in the team and he has never eaten or served human flesh in his life. he is the red butcher and a certified dad of his team!

#my art #tf2 oc #stray oc #tf3

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my-favourite-zhent · 7 days

Text

New Tricks - Chapter 18

Status: Work In Progress

Version: 1.01

Pairing: Rugan x AFAB!OC

Rating: NC-17 (This chapter PG-13)

Genre: Adventure/Romance

Summary: Misadventures of Rugan and the original Zhentarim Gate's crew before and during the year of three sailing ships.

Notes: Update schedule has been slower of late but I'm still chugging along.

Posting this a little later than promised. I was mostly happy with the first pass but it needed some smoothing over here and there.

As always my lovely betas @fistfuloftarenths and @dustdeepsea gave me a lot of great suggestions as well as grammar checking (I can't place a comma to save my life) and I'm endlessly grateful to them.

Be sure to check out fortune in brief minutes tell and Gods and Monsters.

Table of Contents

Read Here on AO3 or below the cut.

Winter in the Gate had passed quietly enough. While Rugan usually enjoyed the break that the end of the caravan season provided; this year he found himself bored and restless.

There wasn't as much to do in the offseason. Inspect the wagons and storehouse for rotting boards, grease the wheels, feed the horses and oxen. Maybe shake down a shop keep or two that were behind on their protection money if you were really bored. Their coffers were usually empty this time of year regardless, so it was really more of a sport for Bellar. Logistics were mostly handled by Zarys and Amnos, one of the senior caravan agents. Rugan occasionally read the prepared notes but too much gave him a headache. He knew the routes and their complications by heart now besides.

That left a lot of free time, but his appetite for whoring had been somewhat diminished, and Brem had accused him of getting on in years.

“Told you to take better care of your knees, old man,” he had said.

“I'm not five years older than you, Brem.”

“Ah, but I do stretches.”

Garias had laughed at that, and Rugan had waved them both off.

He'd taken Olly out on some small delivery jobs for Danzo over at Sword Coast Couriers in Rivington. The bulk of Danzo’s business was legitimate, but the real money maker was the more illicit deliveries. It was a well kept secret that the Couriers were a front for the Zhents. Much of the inventory Rugan's crew brought back from Elturel passed through Couriers before its final destination.

Caravan season was over however, so available work was of a simpler sort. Small things about the city and surrounding suburbs. A little Silk Root here, some forbidden artefact there. A lot of weird shite for that fucker that ran Sundries. Though the trips were short, it was still frustratingly cold and wet in the Gate. More than once he had run his hands over the wool of his cloak appreciatively. He had been considerably warmer and dryer this year than last, and he knew who to thank for that. Olly still wore Rugan's old cloak, but not nearly enough layers underneath.

“Last time I went to buy a wool shirt in my colours someone kept singing the sheep fucker song.” Olly complained when Rugan chastised him for it.

These Men of Zhentil Keep , a sea shanty that Rugan was well acquainted with from his days in Luskan. The lyrics were… less than complimentary.

“Olly if someone sings that damned song you smash their face in.”

“You said not to start fights in the Gate.”

“That's not starting a fight, lad, that's finishing it.”

By the middle of Ches the roads had thawed and the trade routes were back up and running. Rugan was thankful for the distraction of work. Something to do, places to be. Simultaneously he felt a strange sort of anxiety being away from home, though he didn't dig much deeper into the why of it.

Still it was with great relief that he returned to the Elfsong after the first run of the season.

The inn was a sight better than other drinking spots in the lower city. The Mermaid, despite being above ground, was the very definition of a dive bar. You were more likely to have your pockets picked or a bottle smashed over your head than you were to have a pleasant evening. There was that bard’s tavern as well, the Singing Lute. But it was cramped inside, entirely too personal, with only one exit, and the staff’s demeanour left something to be desired.

But the Elfsong? Thanks to its popularity among tourists it was almost as nice as anything in the upper city. The herringbone floors were stained a lovely dark colour something akin to kathei. The walls were properly plastered and had wooden panelling to match the floors. Larger than the Lute, the Elf Song had multiple entry points in case of trouble. As well as isolated booths along the far wall, each equipped with plush emerald green curtains should one desire more privacy.

The other perk of being a tourist destination was an ever changing rotation of beautiful tourists and adventurers passing through. Rugan had spent many nights at the Elfsong, and had as yet to actually pay for a room.

He had come straight from the warehouse where the Zhents usually stored their caravans and goods. Too impatient to bother stopping by the boarding house to change out of his leathers.

“Expecting a bit of trouble there, Rugan?” Alyn, the bartender, had asked as he approached the counter.

“In your fine establishment? Perish the thought.” He flashed a smile as he took a seat.

“Some girl was in here the other day looking for you.”

“For me?” His heart leapt in his chest.

“Aye, left you a letter, here.”

Alyn reached from a small stack of letters tucked to the side of the bar and flipped through them. When the barkeep handed over the envelope it had Rugan's name in that familiar looping scrawl. Izzy's handwriting.

“Is she still here?” He asked hopefully.

“‘fraid not, said she had business out of town. Asked me to give this one to a passing caravan or ship but haven't had the time to go down.” In Alyn’s hand was another envelope in that familiar hand, this time addressed to Corra.

“I can do that for you.”

The man eyed him for a moment. “I suppose you are a friend of hers,” he said, before handing over the letter.

Rugan snatched it eagerly, getting up from his seat and making his way towards one of the sheltered nooks.

“No drink?” Called Alyn after him but he simply waved at him dismissively, not even bothering to look back.

Another couple were also approaching the same alcove but he quickened his step to cut them off. When the man made to reproach him Rugan put his hand on the pommel of his dagger and stared him down.

“Do you think my company's one you want to be disturbing, mate?” Rugan growled. The man took note of his leathers and Zhent black and yellows before raising his hands up in defeat and dragging his clearly offended date away. It now seemed it was a bit of luck that he hadn't bothered to change.

Pulling the curtain shut, he sat down and hastily opened the first letter.

Zhent,

I hope this letter finds you well. The barkeep tells me you're away on a job.

I've my own to run north of the Chionthar so I won't be far, I expect to be back in a month. I hope we can have that drink then.

If you won't be here please leave a letter for me.

Izzy

Just as in her previous letter there was a red imprint of her lips at the end of the letter. He ghosted his fingertips over the mark. Even if there was a slow start on the next run he could be back in a month's time easily. Only a month till he could see Iz. He felt a rush of excitement at the thought.

Rugan considered the other envelope addressed to Cora. It was closed with a wax seal. If he was careful with his dagger he could open it and reseal it without her being the wiser. After a moment's consideration, he brought out the blade.

This letter too was in Izzy's familiar looping hand.

Cora,

I apologise for asking this of you but I need a letter of credit. The idiots on the boat dumped some of our cargo overboard during a bad storm as a ‘tithe to Umberlee'. Just my luck the tithe included some of my tools.

I've commissioned a new set in Rivington and paid half upfront but I don't have the second half and I won't be back from my next job for a month. The blacksmith says they'll finish in a tenday and expects payment by then or they'll sell it to someone else. I know I was supposed to save that necklace for times like this but I already pawned it back in Uktar. You may scold me freely when next we meet.

Please make the letter out for fifty gold pieces to the address below:

Rugan recognized the smithy in question and committed it to memory before carefully replacing the letter in its envelope. There was a candle on the wall sconce and he used that to warm the seal just enough to close the letter.

He sighed and ran his hand over his hair. Uktar was when he and the lads had come through Crimmor. Had she spent all of her savings on him? No wonder she hadn't been able to winter in the Gate. Maybe if he had offered to put her up… But no she couldn't have stayed at his. It would've been—well, he never brought girls there.

Gods, he was glad Sal wasn't here to see Izzy's letter to Cora. Rugan would never be able to wipe the smugness from the wizard's face if he knew its contents.

He tapped his fingers on the table pensively. Even if he gave the letter to a ship’s captain, no guarantee it would reach Cora in time. Fifty gold was no small sum for him, but it was something he could manage, especially if it were for Iz. Before he could give it much thought his boots were already carrying him to Wyrm’s Crossing.

+++++

The dragonborn at the Rivington General was a nice enough lass. Her scales were a lovely bronze that turned to an iridescent green at the sharp edges of her face. She cheerily accepted his coin with no questions asked. Said her name was Exx… Exvik? Ah it didn't matter.

“You'll apologise to her for me won't you?” She asked as she put his coin away in the register.

“Whatever for?”

“I accepted the commission without consulting Gyldro first. He didn't like that, that's why he's being difficult about the payment.”

“Ah.” Rugan got the feeling Gyldro was always difficult. He briefly considered taking the coin back and threatening the balding old bastard into finishing the work but held off. No, didn't want to chance causing trouble for Iz. He left the smith's shop with both his coin purse and heart considerably lighter. Only one month till he would see Iz.

+++++

“Another job?” Rugan found it difficult to keep the irritation out of his voice.

“You should be glad of the coin.” Zarys replied silkily. “I know how you boys always run low by the time caravan season starts.”

He'd only had the five days of rest rather than the usual ten before Zarys had recalled him to the warehouse.

“We won't be back in time for the Elturel run. Ulgoth’s Beard and back will be more than five days, especially with the way last night's rains have muddied the roads.”

“There's been delays with the Elturel shipment anyways. I expect it'll be at least a tenday late.”

Then he'd also be at least a tenday late to his meeting with Izzy. Inwardly he cursed his rotten luck. Must’ve caught Beshaba’s eye with his unusually good run of things.

“I've plans,” he protested, though he knew it was futile.

“I had plans, they changed. Expect yours can do the same.” Her voice always had a seductive quality to it when she was threatening someone. Like the bait in a steel trap.

“Any other objections?” Zarys asked, an undercurrent of warning in her tone.

“None at all.” Rugan replied, masking his anger with a disarming smile. He needn’t have bothered with her, Zarys knew him too well, but it came natural all the same.

#rugan #bg3 rugan #rugan bg3 #zhentarim #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 rugan #bg3 fanfic #bg3 fanfiction #new tricks #bg3 smut #bg3 fanfic: new tricks

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