#there was a consistent answer on why certain things failed

[corishadowfang]

If you hear screaming in the distance, it's me, locked in mortal combat with an AI checker.*

I'm losing.

*To be clear, I don't use AI; this is completely human written content that's failing.

[korkorali]

The Misogyny of It All

So a lot of Della Duck Discourse is rehashed all the time, points are made again and again, but one thing that I almost never see people defend -and conversely, see people attack all the time- is The Line.

You know what I'm talking about. The Line from Glomtales.

"Your plans, your schemes, they only lead to bad things for your family. If you want to be a part of this family, you've gotta stop."

That one.

Now, what exactly Della was trying to get across with that line is a whole other can of worms that deserves its own post (basically she -and also the writers- horribly failed her Speech check).

What we're going over here is how that mimics a certain line from the last season, said by a parental figure to a child, that gets so much less flack. That, in fact, often gets paraded around as 'an interesting twist on a character.'

"You are not family!"

I have never seen people attack this line with the same amount of vitriol as they attack Della's, which is funny when they're the exact same line.

Actually, not even that- Scrooge's is worse.

It's more direct, it's literally yelled at Webby, it doesn't even attempt to address the issue Scrooge had (Webby blaming him for what happened to Della) and instead just straight-up attacks her as a person.

Now, to be fully honest- I like this line! I do genuinely think it's an interesting route for Scrooge to take, and is quite realistic to the grumpy old bastard. It's just funny that nobody ever comes to Webby's defense the same way they do for Louie.

Because the thing is- between Webby and Louie, one of these two has genuine, canonical issues with feeling like they're not a part of the family, like they're an outsider amongst those they love the most, like they don't belong.

And it's not Louie.

It is a consistent part of Webby's characterization that she feels like she doesn't belong. This gets touched on in all three seasons (and honestly, it could be argued that it gets worse after this moment).

Conversely, that just is not a part of Louie's canonical characterization. Even in the first episode of season 2, the one where Louie gets the closest to an 'I don't belong in this family' moment, it's less 'I don't belong here' and more 'fuck me I am terrible at adventuring'. And! It gets resolved in that episode!

(Of course, there is absolutely something to be said for how it's resolved- specifically by Scrooge encouraging him to be a scheming little bastard, which then thusly becomes the thing that threatens his family the most. Which would, logically, be a pretty big blow to his self-esteem. This isn't what I'm here to discuss right now but it is genuinely interesting.)

Louie never really shows an issue with feeling like he doesn't belong in his family. He shows a disconnect with his family at times, but in canon that never really evolves into a full-blown feeling of displacement. It does get close in Glomtales, but never quite reaches it.

So it's 'interesting' (read: not interesting) that Scrooge's fuckup here gets brushed away pretty easily. A lot of the time the line just straight-up isn't addressed, and when it is, often times it's about how "Oh he apologized to Webby offscreen, obviously."

Which.

Not he did not.

I mean, let me be clear: I don't mind it when that's the answer. It works for me to just brush it away if it's not meant to be the focus...

But Scrooge almost certainly didn't apologize for it.

As 'New Gods on the Block!' Showed us, Scrooge is downright awful at realizing when his actions have hurt people.

More likely than not, Scrooge would just assume that everything is fine and would avoid bringing it up at all costs because he'd feel awkward about it. Because he is, very importantly, not good at talking about things he doesn't want to talk about.

So why is it that Louie is always the one feeling like he doesn't belong? Why is it Della who is always a terrible parent for what she's said? Why are Webby's feelings of disconnect never really given the same gravity as Louie's? Why is Scrooge's blunder let off the hook super easily?

It just feels silly to me.

And, well.

Kinda like the fact that, since Scrooge is a guy and Webby's a girl, and Della is a woman and Louie's a boy, has something to do with it.

I'll happily give the benefit of the doubt and assume it's not deliberate, but quite frankly it is a double standard.

I think that people would be less upset with the Della Duck Discourse if Scrooge was held in a similarly critical position over what he's said and done. If it was acknowledged that Della isn't uniquely awful in what she says and does, and that a lot of the others have fucked up in extremely similar ways.

(I mean for fuck's sake, everybody goes on and on about how Della left her kids for ten years -which, for the record, wasn't what she wanted to do- but nobody ever criticizes Donald for taking the kids away from their family and never talking to them about Della- which is something he actively and deliberately chose to do)

TL;DR: The fact that Della gets intensely criticized for what she's said and done, but Donald and Scrooge are conversely celebrated as 'interesting' and 'complex' for what they've said and done, even when it brings harm to the kids, is a blatant double-standard. And if you don't think that this double-standard is bad or wrong for existing (or even that it Doesn't Actually Exist), instead of immediately claiming that it's a non-issue, maybe try to look inward and figure out why you really think that is.

[riemanifests]

Who the fuck are you?

ask yourself that. who are you? who are you identifying as? who are you being? and then ask yourself this: is who i'm being right now aligned with the person i want to be? and if your answer is no? then let's change that. 　

♡ 𓈒　Who do you even want to be?

think about the type of person you want to be. what you want to be like. which identity feels most aligned with you. maybe it's someone who is a winner, maybe it's someone who is creative and full of ideas, or more specifically it's someone who has that car or sp. either way figure it out. sit with yourself and be truly honest, because you can be anybody. 　

♡ 𓈒　You can be anybody at anytime.

you don't have to continue to be the loser who always gets left out, you don't have to continue to be the person who has to wait for good things, and you don't have to be the person who doesn't have what they want. you're free to change who the fuck you are at anytime you want. why? because first off you have access to all realities, second off your identity is not fixed, and third off you are the one in control here. not your past, not reality, but you. 　 - every version of you exists right now and all realities exist within you too. you just have to decide which one you want to be and stay faithful to being that version of you to experience that type of reality. 　

♡ 𓈒　You can change who you are instantly

time doesn't exist in the 4d so everything happens instantly inside your mind. so let's say you've been identifying as a person who has bad memory for the past three months, and now you want to identify as someone who has good memory instead. well you can think to yourself in this moment right now, "i am someone who has good memory" and make that decision. boom, that's it. done! now that identity tag is on you, and it will stay on for as long as you keep it on. now of course you might need to persist and hold that idea before it sticks, but that's okay. this is just to show that you don't need to wait to make that mental shift, you just need to make the decision to change and stand on that decision until it sticks. 　

♡ 𓈒　Your past does not have to define your identity.

let's say you did something really shitty in the past that made you a bad person who does xyz. do you have to be that person forever? no you can learn from it, change, and grow. you don't have to punish yourself forever because of something you did years ago, and btw you doing that is just you disallowing yourself the chance to change. this isn't to say you can do something like betray a friend and then call yourself a good friend the next minute, no actually be honest with yourself, see where you went wrong, and fucking do the mental work so you grow from it. but anyways the point is stop holding onto identities from the past that you don't even want anymore. another example is you always failed your tests in the past so you think you're dumb now, well you can start identifying as someone who's smart if you want to be that instead. 　

♡ 𓈒　Figure out how you can make the mental shift.

usually what you can do is just decide you're the new identity and stick to that and persist, but for some of you who struggle or are contradicting an old and strong identity you might need to use a method to help you persist. you can affirm, script, listen to tapes, wtv. just do whatever will help you make that mental shift / transition into that new identity. be consistent, persist, and allow your mind to get used to this new identity. it might be uncomfortable or difficult at first, but the more you do it the easier it will get. 　

♡ 𓈒　When switching identities, let go of the 3d.

where some people go wrong is not understanding that you only have evidence / experiences of you being a certain person because you persisted in that identity. therefore, once you start mentally identifying as someone else you have to understand that the 3d is probably going to keep showing you proof of you being someone else, but it doesn't matter because if you change then the 3d must change. and this isn't to feed into the idea that it cant happen instantly or that reflection cant be quick bullshit, but just be real with yourself if you've been identifying as someone for so long then don't look towards the 3d a second after and expect something different. persist in the new identity and let the 3d show you that is who you are now. 　

♡ 𓈒　Other people cant tell you who tf you are

anyone that tells you that you're something you don't want to be you can mentally tell them to fuck off. and this doesn't mean like your therapist saying you're a certain way or something lmao this means that bitch karen from math class who calls you stupid or that guy zac who calls you ugly. no one else can define you in your reality. you are the one in charge here, so anytime you come face to face with someone who calls you something that doesn't align with your desired identity, what you should do is mentally say "nah i aint that person". brush it off. anytime you ruminate on that or worry or even start giving them credibility is a time where you're handing your power off to someone who doesn't even deserve it. nope! be who you want to be and don't let anybody else try to define your identity. 　

♡ 𓈒　Extras ( OPTIONAL )

➛　start taking physical action that aligns with the new version of you - or new identity wtv. i am someone who likes doing this sometimes to make the mental shift easier on me, so basically think about what the new version of you does differently from the old one. like let's say you're now identifying as someone who is smart and organized. you would start studying more and making list of things you need to organize or complete. it can be small steps, but this is just for those who think that this will help them feel more connected with that new identity. 　 - please note that it's still important to make the mental shift and that physical action is NOT required to manifest. 　

➛　figure out why you want to be that person to keep you motivated in persisting. think about the person you want to be and ask yourself this: "why do i want to be this person instead?", "how does identifying with the old version of me go against my desired reality?", and "how does identifying as this new version of me align with my desired reality?". this can help give yourself some clarity and once you have your whys, it's easier to persist and keep going despite doubts or the 3d. 　 ➛　intentionally consume media that aligns with the new identity. so if you want to identify as someone who is a great dancer or confident, then you could start following more people who seem confident, start watching dancing videos and following dancers, start reading books that help you learn more about confidence, or even start listening to songs that make you feel confident. this again can help you feel more connected with that new identity. 　

♡ 𓈒　summary

➛　figure out who you want to be ➛　know that you can be whoever you want to be at any moment ➛　know that you can mentally shift to any new identity instantly ➛　your past does not have to define your current identity ➛　figure out how you can start identifying as who you want to be ➛　let go of the 3d experiences that aligned with the old identity ➛　know that nobody else can tell you who tf you are besides you

[genericpuff]

What is the thing you feel like Lore Olympus failed at or did the worst. The comic has a magnitude of problems but what is one problem that you have the most hatred for or just flat out makes you angry?

(Just curious)

There are so, so many things I could point to as "the worst" thing that the comic did, because it has a LOT of worsts, but I think ultimately the failing of the original myth's messaging has to take the cake because it's ultimately the root of all of LO's problems.

Rachel herself seems to have this disconnect between what's going on in her head vs. what she's actually writing. It's especially present in her Q&A's and interviews where she claims certain things about the comic / text that just aren't present in the slightest during the actual comic. One such example that ties into my answer is this response she gave to Girl Wonder Podcast:

"I feel like female characters in general, people will be a little harsher on them and sometimes way harsher on them, and I used to be like.. before I started writing the story and like making a story I was like yeah, sexism is not that bad, and [now] I was like oh it's bad. It's quite bad [laughs], so like, I don't know, I feel like the female characters in the story don't get so much of a pass. But this isn't consistent across the board, it's not all the time"

It's ironic at best and tone deaf at worst that she would claim that it's her audience being harsh on the female characters, when she's the one who wrote them into the characters they are that would get that reaction. Minthe had her BPD retconned so now she's just the abusive other girl. Hestia was turned into a cruel hypocrite when it was revealed she was a lesbian. Hera is racist to nymphs and cruel to the lower class and yet she's still rewarded in the end by getting to run off with a nymph girl who we've never seen her have any extended interaction with. And worst of all, Demeter was robbed of all of her agency all in favor of turning her into the evil Mother Gothel mom who's overbearing and cruel to poor Persephone. Some of these women deserve to be called out (Hera and Hestia), and others like Minthe and Demeter were simply used as props to do exactly what Rachel claims she doesn't like people doing and is labelling as sexism - to get harsh reactions and give the audience someone to hate on. Rachel desperately needs to learn to read her own work. Her audience is "sexist" towards these women because Rachel wrote them that way.

It fucking sucks and it's, ngl, extremely disrespectful to the messaging of the original myth that was written to comfort and empower the mothers who had lost their daughters to marriages back in the day. It wasn't some simple "aww the girl moved out and now she doesn't visit anymore!" girls who got married off were often literally never seen again and it wasn't by choice. Not only that, but in certain regions (such as in Athens) the women were isolated to their own section of the house upstairs (while the men lived downstairs) so that they wouldn't be seen by visiting guests or strangers.

It's why in some cultures the original H x P myth was considered a "golden standard" for marriages (at the time) because not only was Persephone given power over the domain alongside Hades, but she actually did get to see her mother - but it wasn't because Hades was just such a kind guy who would let her go willingly, it's because Demeter had to literally hold the world hostage and fight for her right to reunite with her child.

So for LO to not only twist Demeter's love and justifiable concern for her daughter into "helicopter parenting", but also rob her of her agency and power in fighting for her child, it fundamentally misses the entire point of the original myth and undoes itself as a retelling that's trying to be taken seriously in the discussion of Greek myth media. And for that, Rachel should be ashamed of herself.

[sakurasmain]

pairing: miyawaki sakura x staff!reader

summary: reader meets her bias (and sakura adorably spirals)

note: converted an old little marvel fic of mine hahaha, first time writing for kpop so this is rought, kinda dusting off the keyboard! hope it’s okay!

—

sakura was enamored the moment you set foot in the practice room, with a pretty smile and equipment ready to film the girls' content, but it was obvious she wasn’t the only one.

as soon as you were officially introduced to the members and staff, it became an entire challenge to win the pretty camerawoman over. during schedules where you were assigned to them, each girl took the chance to get your attention. chaewon would do her cutesy fierce thing, yunjin brought out her loud and loser-coded type of charm which consisted of the lamest pick-up lines known to man, even kazuha started throwing her charming smiles and wearing crop tops more often!

sakura even noticed that while out at events, other idols stared a little too long at her camerawoman. the guests at eunchae star diary wouldn't even be subtle about their glances, and the maknaes were a menace!

she wasn’t worried though, after all these months she had your routine down. you would start by politely declining all those who sought you out with the same awkward giggle, your trademark sympathetic smile, and walk away, it was a waltz sakura loved to see every time.

now sakura wasn’t dumb, she knew it was her who you liked. every early morning now consisted of coffee runs and every night had you sneaking in street food plus small gaming sessions with your favorite member. but still, sakura’s fear of ultimately ruining such an authentic friendship kept her from acting on her feelings, and not to mention that it could affect the great work relationship. she concluded that sitting by and watching everyone try and fail to have you would be a cost necessary.

——

scratch that, why was there a tall walking sunshine in the cafeteria and why was she making you laugh? wait, were you blushing? you never blush with her!

sakura sat there with what felt like a permanent pout, forcing herself to not just walk over and interrupt whatever you both so vividly talked about. i mean, how funny could they be? she kept glancing over to see when your rejecting routine would start, the awkward giggle, the pity laugh, and walking away.

but it never came, instead, what sakura saw from afar was for certain a giggle, but, it was flirty? god forbid what the other idol was typing on your phone was their number… this couldn’t go on for longer, and after what felt like an eternity you walked away with a goofy grin plastered on your face.

the veteran idol quickly walked over to the corner, disguising her intentions with a false interest in the coffee machine. “hey tsuki, haven't seen you since our fearless kkura episode!”, extending her hand to the other, “oh, kkura-sunbaemin! i got invited to do some dance challenges!”, she answered with a bright smile.

‘fukutomi tsuki? that’s okay, sakura thought, no big deal, except that’s the idol you’ve declared over and over again having a massive crush on. and you were barely five minutes prior talking to them and blushing and giggle- well sakura was officially spiraling.

——

three days, it would be three whole days of tsuki coming over to hybe and flirting with you, and you’ve been living for it. after that small talk shared in the cafeteria, the le sserafim member couldn’t have expected just how infuriating all of this would become, more so, heart-wrenching. but, sakura was the one to put up the boundary on your friendship, it was her decision and she would stand by it!

day one was simple enough; you had been assigned to show tsuki the different practice rooms and help her not get lost, which the idol took as valuable time to throw some smooth lines your way and make you blush endlessly. ‘just a blush, a stupid little blush’, sakura kept repeating to herself.

“don’t you think she should film these challenges with her own staff?”, sakura lamely started, “who?” you questioned.

“tsuki… matter of fact i don’t think she has the stamina to even do our choreos, i can though… and who wants to be so tall? should’ve gone to the Lakers instead of here!”, sakura declared, now aggressively gesturing to solidify just how baffled she is. she didn’t catch the adoring gaze you threw her way, much less your beaming smile, that cherry blossom was also so animated.

“i’m just saying, a little overrated if you ask me.”, you only laughed and looked at her with even more adoration, “it is overrated my cherry, so lame, you are so much cooler and dance endlessly!”, maybe it was an exaggeration on your end, but it did bring back a smug and happy sakura.

——

day two was much harder. after having spent all your day with tsuki, it's easy to say you got pretty close. close enough to be constantly touching each other, and sakura’s eyes couldn’t move away from it. the way tsuki’s hand rested on your lower back, going out of her way to play with the rings on your fingers. the cherry blossom was seeing red, or green, or whatever the idiom yunjin kept teasing her with. she was jealous.

“fukutomi, you know you can let her take a breather right?”, sakura knew she sounded piteous, but she couldn’t stop herself.

“cherry!”, you exclaimed, “what’s the matter with you?”, ‘great’, sakura thought, ‘now i’m getting scolded’

“it’s- it’s nothing, just odd that they have only you putting in so much work… it’s getting late anyway, want to continue the game through from last time?”, if sakura’s week wasn’t bad enough, your answer was the confirmation it needed, “i’m sorry cherry, but you’re acting rude, and i promised tsuki a night out. maybe next time?”

like a sad little kicked kitten, sakura got up, “that’s okay, i’ll go to my room, night tsuki, goodnight” the older idol could feel her chest tighten, but still, shot you her usual grin, and left. the stupid tall blonde was leaving tomorrow anyway, and you’ll be back to normal.

——

it was already day three, the glorious friday sakura had been anticipating, also the day fukutomi tsuki would stop showing up at hybe, hopefully never visit again.

the shorter idol quickly got bored of waiting for practice to start and went out into the hallway, stopping herself after hearing tsuki’s and chaewon’s voices.

“while i prefer not meddling with my member's relationships, maybe don’t ask her out?” chaewon said, knowing all too well how territorial a certain crocheter could be.

“she doesn’t seem to be with anyone though chaewon-sunbaemin, she’s cute and i think she likes me, i don’t understand the problem” tsuki rebutted, seemingly annoyed.

“i’m just saying, wouldn't you be too busy with promotions for a relationship -“ chaewon started but was interrupted by tsuki, “who said anything about relationships? maybe i just want a little distraction every once in a while.”

that was all sakura needed to hear before walking the corner and coming in between her leader and fellow idol, ears red from frustration. “i think it’s better if you leave early today, i’ll let your manager now we got enough footage.” she coldly stated while chaewon only watched and the other idol just nodded, walking away. none of them noticing how you had followed sakura after seeing her walk out of the practice room.

“why are you dragging me?!” sakura all but yelled while holding onto her now even redder ear, which was caused by you pulling her to a nearby room. words couldn’t even describe the flabbergasted look you were giving her, “oh i’m sorry, are you surprised by this? i’m still, on the whole, WHY would you even speak to another idol that way? anyone could have heard and spread false narratives”, you couldn’t even try lowering your voice.

by now you had already gotten up close to her, meanwhile the pro-idol could only continue inspecting the floor, too embarrassed to even look you in the eyes. she mumbled some nonsense in the hope of giving up on the incoming conversation, but after a glance at your worried, but also very pissed off eyes, she repeated herself louder “she said disgusting things about you…”

sighing, “kkura, it doesn’t matter what anyone says about me, you can’t be going around defending ‘my honor’ like that!”, but that only seemed to add fuel to the fire. “yes it matters and yes i can! all she’s done all week is take your entire time, make you laugh the only way i can, and then say you could be some distraction?… as if you aren't someone to treasure as if she could just barge in here and take you away from me!”

that was it, that’s the reason the usually relaxed member was being an irrational baby, she was jealous?

“cherry, would you please look at me?”, you asked in the soft tone reserved only for her. sakuda looked up with small angry tears watering her eyes, “kkura, i understand why you put a boundary to our friendship, and also why tsuki’s comment got to you, but i can’t do much here if you won’t allow me.” you finished, trying to be as delicate with the topic as possible.

with an inhale and a puffed chest, sakura finally spoke up, “i know this won’t be the easiest thing to deal with, with busy schedules and what-not, but, you have never made me feel as a burden, all you ever done is understand and accept me, with that in mind, could i please take you on a date?”, she finished asking while taking both of your hands.

“you’re such an idiot cherry, of course, i’ll be your date, only after we make sure tsuki doesn't go off and tell the managers about how you kicked her out!” you laughed, sakura knew she wasn’t going to live that down anytime soon, but it was worth it, she finally got her pretty lady.

[windvexer]

Heyy! If it’s not too much of a hassle what are some divination tips for tarot? Sometimes it feels like I am really good and than other times it’s like ehh

Sure, I could use a break before I start crocheting again 😅

I want to emphasize that tarot is one of those things where people really build up personal beliefs around it, so the following is in no way universal. It's all just what I currently feel and believe, heavily influenced by my beliefs as a spirit-working witch.

Most of the actual tips are at the end. I hope this helps!

Structures and Methodology

Tarot can't "magically" come up with valid answers no matter how it's put into use. It's a hammer and a screw situation; sometimes, using the tool incorrectly is less than useless.

Not all tarot spreads are very useful. The type of spread can have a huge influence on success. Try setting aside 'one question per card' spreads and see if that helps improve consistency in your results.

Not all tarot meanings are very useful. Tarot card meanings evolve and change over time. Modern meanings tend to be much more heavily skewed towards topics of introspection and self-help. Try reading books about the history and interpretations of tarot cards themselves to expand your understanding of each card. I recommend The Mystical Origins of the Tarot by Paul Huson for a strictly historical look.

Not all tarot questions are very useful. Learning how to phrase and frame questions, along with how to select a spread to place them in, are vital skills for the reader. Try focusing on strictly defined, open-ended questions.

Not every tarot deck is useful for every reader. It can come down to art and author meanings, but it can also come down to personal connection: a deck may work great for you for reading some types of questions, but fall flat on other types; or be more hit-or-miss. If you have multiple decks, try rotating between them or doing deck interviews to discover what types of questions they best address.

Memorizing the cards is not necessarily useful. It's not just that there are 78 cards, with 78 potential reversed meanings, each card in and of itself potentially having multiple meanings; it's also that depending on context, the core meaning can entirely change. Professional readers at events will pull out the guidebook and look up card meanings. There is no actual reason to try and memorize the cards unless you really just want to.

It's useful to have a map that helps navigate the cards. By adopting simple structures that paint large parts of the deck with broad meaning, interpretations can be easier to tackle. Another popular 'map' is the Fool's Journey.

You don't have to use the entire deck for every reading. Only using some parts of a deck to read is called reading with a restricted deck, and I really recommend practicing it as a way to develop a relationship with the deck structure. It can also be a very useful way to focus readings on one area of life (e.g., a new business venture reading may be read using only Wands and Pentacles).

That being said,

Check to see if cards are accidentally missing. Reading with a restricted deck is one thing, but I find my readings go weird if a card accidentally fell out and is lost.

You should take notes on your readings. I know it's a hassle, but the information you can glean and analyze from your own work is invaluable to figuring a lot of stuff out, like, what kinds of spreads work best for me? And what kinds of questions do I excel or fail at? Because next comes...

Energy and Individuality

Some questions are more draining or difficult to read than other questions. Here are my illustrated beliefs on the matter, explaining why some questions that seem straightforward can be nigh impossible to grasp. Try taking notes on the scope of the questions you can answer well.

Not all diviners are equally skilled at reading on all things. A diviner may have a special talent for certain types of questions (such as the outcomes of new ventures, or navigating the inner landscape), yet may fall flat when it comes to other questions (relationships or social intent, for example).

Any specific situation may have barriers to being read clearly. This is true even of mundane situations not expected to have magical influence. Sometimes, a certain situation, person, or concept will be shielded from view - and that can have nothing to do with the reader or querent.

Celestial timing may be a factor. Things like moon phase, time of year, or time of day can sometimes influence people's abilities to easily connect or easily interpret cards. Try paying attention to timing as part of note-taking and see if that's a factor.

Caffeine, drugs, alcohol, and rest can be a factor. Once I reach a certain level of fatigue (usually before bedtime) I can't read at all. Caffeine can sometimes also "close the veil" for me and limit me from being able to interpret readings. It might not be a factor for everyone, but it's something to pay attention to!

For practitioners, metaphysical workings can use up all available energy for divination. I find that my "pool" of magical energy feeds both my divination and my spellwork. Exhausting myself in one area (such as doing lots of energy work exercises) means I have exhausted myself in another area (no juice left for readings).

Witchcraft and Magic

Spells and wards can affect your ability to perform divination, sometimes in weird and unexpected ways. Go through spell notes to see if there is a chance prior, ongoing spells may be messing with your ability to read on certain questions. A big giveaway is when divination doesn't seem to work well specifically within a warded area, but this isn't a strict rule.

Prepare a place of reading, or reading cloth, enchanted to assist with finding answers. By consecrating and tending to such a place, such as a divinatory altar or divinatory reading mat, powers of far seeing, truth, and accuracy can be accumulated and much more easily raised. For those that have the space, a full divinatory altar can be an extraordinary tool. For such places, especially consider the power of symbols which open roads and gates.

Prepare a Charm of True Reading. Find, or develop, a small rhyme, charm, or prayer that calls on powers which support you and requests that your upcoming reading be clear and true. Repeat this before each reading, as desired.

Prepare an oil. A skin-safe carrier oil steeped with bay laurel, star anise, and lavender; or just bay leaf if the grocery store fails you, can be enchanted (especially under the full moon) to assist with opening the second sight and securing more accurate readings. Dab some on your forehead, ideally along with the Charm of True Reading.

Prepare a head covering. For some people, covering the head and/or partially blocking vision, can assist with entering divinatory headspace and with the receipt of visions and intuitive connections. As much as I like fancy things, I often end up using sunglasses and a hat. Being in a dark room might help as well, especially if you can get a candle in there.

Prepare incense. Here again bay laurel, star anise, and lavender can serve if you're able to powder and burn your own blends (remember to enchant them); but an enchanted stick of commercial incense will be fine (in any scent). Enchant the incense for the purpose of casting away doubt and influences that cause ill-sight, and to create an energetic haven where answers readily arrive to be interpreted by you, the reader.

Cast a circle. If you like to write your own rituals, especially focus on the concept of the circle being a liminal space between time that connects the worlds, almost like Grand Central Station where many threads of fate (and information) meet.

Consecrate your deck. Use any consecration ritual you like, but especially one that employs powers supportive of divination, true seeing, and psychism. This is almost certainly best done on a full moon. Consecrate your deck to be a tool which can peer into the threads of fate on your behalf, and then only reflect absolute truth back to you.

Enchant a tool to nurture and safeguard your decks. A lovely amethyst stone or clear quartz (or any variety of stone, bought or found), maybe one marked as special by putting it in a handy net, can be enchanted to be a protector of any deck it sits on. The value of this is to keep the deck enthroned in an additional layer of protection against untruth, but also to keep it bathed in energy related to divination and psychism. For those worried about decks getting magically "dirty," this is a good solution.

Also, cleansing decks sometimes is necessary, but it can be an easy operation. I find that spreading the entire deck face-down and mixing up all the cards in a big pile provides an adequate cleansing much of the time.

Spirit Work

Show your deck some love by providing it with offerings and a shrine, just as you would for an honored spirit. If the shrine isn't possible, an offering is excellent - maybe once weekly or monthly (depending on how often you use it), and even a small offering before each reading is useful. In my beliefs, this action goes far beyond making a deck happy with you - it can provide real, tangible effects on energy drain and the 'power' of your readings.

Petition gods, ancestors, or helper spirits. Beyond a Charm of True Reading, simply praying to helpful and benevolent powers to provide an assist can be really helpful. This is also an important way to develop a relationship with a guiding divinatory power. Speaking of which,

Get in good with a god or spirit who is associated with divination, psychism, etc. The Moon itself is a very solid choice. Apollo can see the future, and his buddy Bay Laurel (whom itself can be worked with as a divinatory spirit) can pack quite the punch. The dead are often said to be very good at helping with divination, but necromancy isn't for everyone. A witch who wants to become powerful in the ways of divination is wise to seek out helper spirits who are very good at this task.

Don't forget the gods and spirits of the thing you want to read on. If I wanted to know whether or not selling something online is worth the trouble, I might not just ask a far-seeing spirit to help me. I might also petition Hermes to grant me special insight into his domain. You can even use other spells you've cast (such as a prosperity spell) as a "foothold" into a certain area, but that's a whole topic in and of itself.

From time to time, a spirit may cause trouble. Divination can sometimes be interfered with by spirits who are upset with us. General offerings to appease offended spirits, or to make nice with the spiritual neighborhood around you, are well undertaken. They can be done even if you don't know that you've actually upset anyone.

[tumblingxelian]

How do some even think that RWBY has male characters “hijack the narrative?” It’s like they project what their grievances with past stories on what looks like the same but not really.

Like Jaundice in Volume 1 flies right by marathoning the season. No bigger than a single episode of TV at 20+ minutes.

So the answer to that questions ranges from what you said to several things like:

Not watching un years & misremembering what was watched, being misinformed & not having watched at all, lying and such. But, I think I hit on another major reason for this problem and its kind of hilariously twisted so please hear me out.

Every arc I've noticed that a certain strain of "Fans" get very attached to one or two male characters and start projecting the idea that they are the real MCs & then get offended when it turns out they aren't.

In V1 to 3, it was Jaune & Adam. Then in volumes 3 to 6 it was Qrow & then Ozpin, Followed by Ironwood in volumes 4 & 7.

All these guys are introduced either in a typical shounen hero or antagonist or mentor and ally role.

Then have the layers people back to show what exists beneath the archetype and what they either have to overcome to remain on the actual main characters side. IE, Jaune, Qrow & Ozpin.

Or what it is that they long since failed or will fail to overcome and grow from that makes them into villains, IE, Adam and Ironwood.

The reason this keeps happening is because that particular strain of "fan" has such a "Men as default" head-space that they cannot, genuinely cannot grasp that they are watching a story about women. Thus they keep expected ay given guy who shows up to be the "real" main character.

Aside:

You may also notice Ren, Oscar & Marrow never gets on the above list. The closest they get is being someone else's cheerleader or not mentioned at all. Meanwhile the white (Or perceived as white in Qrow's case) cis and overtly straight men do get said treatment. I wonder why that could be? Such a mystery :/

But I digress, this is important because it reflects a deep subconscious bias in those "fans" & I think said bias also exists in the people making claims like this.

IE, because they treat men as the default & the protagonists in a given scene, while subconsciously placing women below them and more as accessories, their focus on any given scene is always on the men.

Kind of like those tumblr posts that are explicitly about women & have a bunch of people with piss poor reading comprehension tagging it with dudes or even going so far as to say "Just say gay men". & rather similar to that observation that a lot of fandom treats men, any man from a piece of media, as an inherently deep and complicated character with so much to analyze or so much freedom to expand on. Meanwhile dismissing women out of hand as awful & or boring.

Thus, when they see a group conversation scene, they instinctively assume that the one leading the conversation, with the most to gain from the conversation, with the most narrative weight in the conversation is a man.

Even if he barely said anything and all the lot relevant, interesting character stuff and such was being done by women.

This head-space persists consistently and inflames any given scene, story beat or exchange.

But, here's the twist, these "critics" know o a conscious level that RWBY is about women and that, that is a selling point. But then they look back over their memories, subconsciously blurring out the women and think, "Wow, the girls didn't do anything, it was all about the guys!" Even though its actually just cos they refused to pay any attention to a character that wasn't a man.

Then they get mad because "Clearly the writers are doing this wrong" and ten they get madder when these men fail, or are villains or have to learn lessons, because in their eyes, those guys are the righteous protagonists, and super complicated, "Can't these blank slate girls realize that? Can't the writers!?" But again, its just because they weren't paying attention, rather tan it being a problem in the writing.

Its very similar to that trend of, "There was no queer foreshadowing, they were both obviously straight!" & then their evidence is like, she looked at a man once, & so therefore every interaction with women she has is platonic by default and therefore does not contain foreshadowing.

Damn, could have just led with that, its male bias, rather than straight bias, but the end result is the same. They don't perceive the women on the screen, they don't see the queer signals.

Then, when the story develops around those women, when queer characters & events set up across years happens it slaps them across the face & they insist it must have come out of nowhere.

Sadly, nothing you can say is liable to change their minds, because in a way, they really are watching an entirely different show.

It'd be like if I went into Naruto thinking Rock Lee was the main character & then never adjusted from that perspective.

Not an identical situation, but one that conveys my point regarding why they claim so much nonsense with such confidence.

[cosmicdream222]

An interview with a shifter who has been “time leaping” since 2001

I found this website of an interview with a Japanese shifter known as Mr. Kanda. He figured out how to shift back in time when he was in middle school - he calls it “time leaping”.

The original website is in Japanese and can be found here.

Mr. Kanda was born in 1986, and around 2001 failed his high school entrance exam. Due to his intense regret, he shifted back in time to repeat middle school. He then made multiple time leaps repeating certain years of his life, studying different subjects in high school and pursuing different careers. At the time of the interview, he says he has lived about 70-80 years of life.

I translated some of the most interesting parts below.

Note: a Tulpa is a phenomenon that’s like an imaginary friend that actually becomes a sentient separate consciousness from you. It’s an entirely different rabbit hole, so you can just think of it as a dream character to understand his story.

My notes are written in [brackets].

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・。.。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Mr Kanda’s First Time Leap Story

Kanda: When I was meditating on my futon, I started to have a lucid dream.

At that time, Tulpa talked to me and said, "If you raise your clarity to the maximum in your dream, wouldn't it be possible to time leap, or even move around the world?" I tried it, but no matter how much I increased the clarity, it still felt like a dream.

So Tulpa said, "If you get absorbed in something you like, you won't be able to hear the voices around you, and your focus will gain momentum. You will eventually forget that you’re dreaming," so as a result of playing in the dreamworld, I spent about a week in a dream without knowing it.

At that time, I suddenly realized, "This is a dream", but I had already completely forgotten the feeling of the original world, and the dream world had become my new reality.

After thinking about why I didn't come back even though I realized it was a dream, the answer I came up with was, “It's because I completely lost my sense of the original world.”

To explain it another way, wouldn’t it be disorienting if I told you that the person you are right now is in a lucid dream of another person? That’s what it was like for me. My dream had actually become my reality, and I forgot about my old reality.

Q: What was the reason for your first time-leap?

Kanda: I think because something bad happened and I wanted to pretend it never happened.

The first time for me was probably a coincidence/accident. In fact, when I tried to do it again, I couldn't, so I started practicing with time leaps through lucid dreaming and meditation, and I got better at stabilizing and controlling them.

When people can’t do something, they hate it, but when they can do it, they love it. So once you succeed, even just once, your faith increases, and you know you can do it again!

Mr. Kanda’s Lucid Dreaming Method

Mr. Kanda recommends lucid dreams the most as a time-leap method. This is how he does it:

Before you go to sleep, first visualize in your head where you want to go. Then lie on your back and meditate. When you fall asleep, the images you were thinking about will run through your dreams. If you shift your consciousness to yourself in the dream, you will be able to act without being aware of what you are currently dreaming about.

In normal lucid dreaming, you become aware that you are dreaming right now [known as DILD or dream-induced lucid dream]. When trying to time-leap, the important thing is how much you can act in the dream in a way that is consistent with reality. He says it is important to “improve your clarity” to the point where it doesn’t feel like a dream anymore.

Mr. Kanda seems to be able to suddenly enter into a lucid dream from the moment he begins to sleep, [WILD - wake induced lucid dreaming] and he also teaches us how to do so:

First, relax.

In Kanda's case, he darkens his room 70 minutes before going to bed and drinks hot herbal tea. Adjust the temperature in the room to a comfortable level, then listen to some calming music. It's better to feel a little tired.

Once you get into bed, visualize and replay strong happy and positive memories in your mind. When you feel happy, close your eyes and calm down all at once and enter a meditative state.

Mr. Kanda recommends mindfulness meditation. Don't think about anything, just focus on the sound of your heart and breathing. When you successfully fall asleep from meditation, you are conscious but your body is asleep, and lucid dreaming begins.

Kanda meditates for 20 minutes every morning, not just when he wants to lucid dream. According to him, “conditioned reflexes” [creating habits] are important. By repeatedly performing a certain action, one eventually becomes able to enter that state without even trying.

 

Q: If the ‘you’ from another world were to time-leap to this world, what would happen to ‘you’ now?

Kanda: There seems to be a misunderstanding: there is only one consciousness.

Reality changes depending on where we place our consciousness in a world of infinite possibilities.

I do have consciousness in my other reality, but from the perspective of me in the current reality, it seems like I don't have consciousness.

In other words, my life in this other reality is as if it were controlled by a computer.

Of course, the same can be said for us. From the perspective of another reality’s consciousness, we too live our lives as if controlled by a computer.

In the end, even if consciousness from another reality shifts, the consciousness we see is always here. So no matter what they do, it has no effect on us.

[immacaria]

Soup Hour

For my dear @mathomhouse-e. I have only two words for you, dear: Soup. Hour.

_________________________________________________________

  Morpheus Endeles — or simply Dream — was not a man to indulge in frivolities. Despite not being as straightforward as his older brother or younger sister, he was also not known for tolerating things that had little interest to him. Most people would call him a cold bitch, but he preferred to call himself ‘selective’. 

  He didn’t have time to waste on things that didn’t matter to him or his employees. His time was to be spent creating, surrounded by art and beautiful things. If not that, it should be spent restoring antique tomes and discovering long hidden stories. 

  However, if pressed, Dream wouldn’t know what to answer about Hob Gadling. 

  They never met personally and, still, the man was a constant presence in Dream's life. The first time they talked it had been by accident, though it hadn’t been their fault either. One day, Dream woke up to a strange message that simply consisted of “Minestrone soup today. You?” and a picture of a steaming, mouthwatering soup right after. 

  At the time, Dream hadn’t known who Hob Gadling was and had simply answered:

  “I do not know you, who are you? And why are you sending me pictures of soup?”. 

  Not even a minute later, came the answer:

  “Death, are you joking with me?” and Dream knew exactly who to blame for this mishap. His dearest older sister, Teleute, had always been known for meddling in his business — Though, if he must confess, always having his best interests in mind. 

  After clearing everything up — That no, this wasn't Death's number, but rather her younger brother's — and directing the man to the right one, Dream thought that may have been the last he had seen of Hob Gadling. Oh, how wrong he had been. 

  The very next, at the very same time, another strange message woke him up. “Miso soup this time”, it read, being quickly followed by a picture of said dish. 

  To say Dream had been surprised to see another one of those texts wouldn't be a lie. To say he was utterly annoyed, would be too accurate. 

  “You already know this is not Death's number. Why still send me these messages?”, Dream had asked, mouth curling in displeasure as he read the following answer. 

  “Don't know, just thought I owed you a ‘thank you’ after your help yesterday. Didn't know what to say or get you, so soup, it is”. 

  And, despite not having been answered, the texts continued to appear the next day. And in the other one. And in the one right after it. And in the following days as well. 

  They always went through at the same time, somewhere around lunchtime, given or taken two or three minutes of difference. It was always soup and it never failed to wake Dream — Who, otherwise, would sleep until late evening, preferring to be awake when there was no sun or people to bother him. 

  Miso soup, chicken noodle soup, gazpacho, chicken and vegetable soup, zuppa toscana. If someone were to name a new type of soup, Dream was mostly certain that Hob Gadling would have tried that one already. Even the most obscure ones, like a duck blood soup, weren’t safe from him.

  Eventually, the wish to know why Hob only ate soup as lunch and why he still sent the photos to him won him over. There was something interesting about this man that didn’t seem bothered by short, curt answers — if there wasn’t even one to be read — and who seemed to cherish anything that Dream sent back. Then, talks about soup eventually become about anything else. Paintings, books they were reading that week, Dream’s nosy neighbour and the dog Hob adopted without meaning to. 

  The soup photos kept coming, marking what Hob affectionately called ‘Soup Hour’, but slowly started to morph into other types of food as well, some even being Dream’s own additions. 

  “What you looking at, boss?” Matthew said one day as Dream rolled his eyes at the screen of his phone. It portrayed another soup photo Hob had sent — A mushroom one, this time — and a single text underneath it (‘I think this one turned out quite alright, don’t you?’). They had been discussing the merits of always having soup for lunch and Hob had been a firm fan of how many different kinds of soup there were out there. A simple ‘No’ sufficed as answer enough. 

  “Nothing, please carry on,” he waved at him, putting his phone down and looking up at where both Matthew and Lucienne were waiting for him to pay attention. “What?”

  “Was that that Hob Gadling lad again?” Matthew asked, leaning over the table before Lucienne pulled him down. There was a small, knowing smile adorning her lips and Dream felt his eyes narrow at the sight of it. “What? It is him!”

  “Keep going, Matthew,” she prompted, but Dream didn’t miss the amused glint in her eyes as she looked between him and his phone. “You were talking about some partnerships that were of interest, I believe.”

  “Oh, yes, some clothing franchise wants to do a partnership with you and one of your nephews wants your help to promote one of his charity’s dinners,” Matthew continued, looking between the two of them with furrowed eyebrows before turning to his tablet again. 

  “Which charity? Which nephew?” Dream asked and his fingers itched when his phone trembled against the table top. He tried not to look at it, but, if Lucienne’s triumphant smile and Matthew’s judging eyes were anything to go by, he failed miserably. “Which franchise?” 

  “The cat one, Thomas and Dior.”

  Silence followed those words as Dream reached for his phone, deft fingers unlocking it at the same time Lucienne said something about taking a break. He nodded, not bothering to look up as he got up from his seat and left the room. Once his screen, two new notifications shone at him, daring and bright as the day. 

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘Don’t you wanna come here and try it?’

  And, later when asked about this, Dream would simply smile and say nothing, but, for now, all he said was:   ‘Yes.’

[guapitas]

The Unwinding (Draco Malfoy x Reader)

Chapter Four: Duality of Man

Chapters: one, two, three

Rated: Mature

Word Count: 5k

Summary: In the time that Cedric has to stay in the infirmary, the dire situation only escalates further. In light of a frightening realization, and with nowhere else to turn, you eventually find yourself at the foot of your only option, Draco Malfoy. (See the overarching summary for the future of this fic, here.)

Warnings: Language, I went a little heavy on the f-bombs in this one

Henry Selwyn fell asleep seven days ago. In a week’s time, you’ve become pretty certain about three things:

First, he doesn’t have a lot of friends— or very good ones, at least. His visitors have been mostly among Slytherin sorts, and many from the quidditch team. And after the first couple of nights, there were no recurring faces— or any faces at all, really. If his parents ever showed up, you never saw them. You think that perhaps you don’t know Henry as well as you had previously figured, and you can’t recall the last time you even spoke to him. 

Second, the nurses are utter gossips– and oblivious ones, at that. You turn down corners to grab lunch for Cedric, or to find the bathroom, and they’re hidden in the shadows. They whisper comatose and about Madame Amani’s various “failed attempts”, until they drop to a halt when you pass by. They refuse to reveal any information to the general public. 

And thus, third– Henry Selwyn may not be waking up anytime soon. 

By the time the weekend rolls back around, you and Marla know every nurse by name. You learned them all before she did; though the competition isn’t entirely fair, with how much spare time you have in comparison. Regardless, you’re just happy to keep Cedric company— even if it comes with the burden of his impossible essay. And at this fruitless rate, you sometimes fear that Cedric may go as mad as Henry did. 

“I don’t understand,” says Cedric, holding a large book open just inches above his face whilst he lies back on the bed, “How can there be literally nothing else? Nothing at all!” 

“Maybe we just imagined that first passage. Homework delirium, and whatnot.” You shrug from a visitation chair, your entire body sprawled out on its limbs and headrest. 

Wedged up next to a vase of tulips at his side table is the original text Cedric had read in the library, many moons ago now. It’s been opened and opened and opened, and now you can almost recite the key points by heart. 

“It can’t be…” In despair, Cedric exchanges his current read for the original book and lays it heavy on his forehead. He closes his eyes beneath it. Before you can ask what he’s possibly doing, he answers— “Literary photosynthesis.” 

You’re quite sure that he means osmosis, but, hell, why not? You aren’t sure how long he stays that way, but you’re confident that he’s managed to fall asleep by the time you pull out some readings for Herbology. The upside to all of this is having a consistent place to get schoolwork done— library be damned. You’ve never been so caught up on assignments before. So, with no particular desire to parade the infirmary halls, and while there are no meals left in the day to fetch, you study. 

The session, of course, is not destined to last any longer than fifteen minutes. You only manage to pick up on the first three points of a chapter about the ethics of magical plant production and use, before Marla is at the door and slipping through it. A black duffel bag hangs at her side, and her hair is wet— weighing it down to the longest you’ll ever see it, but only until the air dries it up again. The opening of her Slytherin robe reveals the black loungewear beneath, a typical comfort for post-dance class. 

And as if his name were called— and as if he had never been asleep at all— Cedric shoots up in his bed. He catches the book when it falls into his lap. “Tell me you have good news! I’ll take any news at all!” 

Marla props the door open with her bag– an attempt to bring the outside world to Cedric, she claims– and frowns, taking a stride or two over towards the bed until she can sit on the very edge of it. “They do love you, Cedric.” 

There’s a brief pause until a hard sigh hits his chest and his entire upper body deflates. “Oh, please, I won’t be injured forever! I could grab a broomstick right now and show them what I can do.” 

“You know they need more than that,” says Marla. 

The school books get tossed onto the floor below you as you chime in, “There are other games! Two more left in this term alone.”

“And how about the past decade I’ve been playing?” Cedric’s head tips back to thump against the wall, half-defeated. “Does that count for anything?”

Marla’s eyes meet yours for just a sliver of a second and you can sense the hesitation before she speaks. “You’ve had some… severe injuries in that time. This and, well, that break you took back at Hogwarts. They might be wary, that’s all.” 

The break, right. You didn’t need to know Cedric back in grade school in order to spot exactly what Marla is referencing. In the years you’ve known him now, he’s only discussed it once before– mostly clarifying details and going into depth about an event you had already heard every rendition of. The Triwizard Tournament. Just scarcely escaping the absentminded wrath of Voldemort. 

His eyes go up towards the ceiling as he nudges his jaw to the side, and before neither you nor Marla dare to continue, Cedric sweeps himself up and onto his feet. There’s a small wince in the twitch of his brow as he hauls his body over to the cabinet for his day clothes— not that he particularly needs them during his stay. Thus far, grey joggers and jumpers have suited him just fine. 

“What are you doing?” Marla sighs, sitting back as Cedric wills his body to move with minimal visible strain— in which he fails miserably, by the way. The doses of his medication and severity of his treatments go down with time— he’s getting better— but even a wizard’s anatomy doesn’t appreciate getting their ass beat mid-air. Whenever he’s on two feet, Marla always seems to be waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

“I’m gonna show them,” he says, digging and tossing through the pile of clothes, “I’ll show them that I can play— that I’m more than some freak accident survivor. Or whatever it is they think of me.” 

You finally swing your legs around and pull yourself forward on the surprisingly plush chair. “Now? You can hardly walk straight down the hall, let alone fly.” 

When he doesn’t respond or even move an inch away from his spot, pulling out a fresh set of clothes instead, Marla insists, “Sit back down, Cedric. Don’t be irrational; think about your injuries—“

“To hell with the injuries!” He shoves whatever fabric he has in his fist back down into the pile, still facing the wall. And then he stills, everything stuck beside the heave of his shoulders. “With my body, my health— quidditch is what matters the most. I need to do this.” 

And even from the angle, you can tell Marla’s rolling her eyes– concerned, but entirely done with his theatrics. “Right, well, regardless, they aren’t going to see you now. Give it time, rest up, and play at your best during the next Hufflepuff match.” 

The reassurance consoles him, even if just for the moment. He pulls away from the cabinet and finally turns around, now with a face of defeat, and goes to say something– but he’s abruptly interrupted by a commotion of noise coming from the hallway. 

All three of your heads whip around to get a view through the open door as the sounds draw nearer. A collection of snarls and… growls, like a wild beast, become clear, accompanied by the general ruckus of voices. Everyone is frozen, silent in the face of intrusion, until half of what you hear is the thump of your own heartbeat. The other half is a girl’s clamor, and her ferocious shrieks; shoe soles screeching against the floor. And in another few seconds, they’re walking past the room– a herd of infirmary nurses and security, and in their restraints, a young girl– perhaps a first year– thrashing about. A pool of bubbles and spit collects at the corner of her mouth and, despite her shorter size, the hands on her biceps struggle to hold her in place. 

In the split second you see them pass by, her neck is thrown back, then to the left, then the right, and you think the security may have lifted her feet off the ground for an easier walk, but that only gives her more freedom to strike their legs. The red striped tie around her collar is half-way undone. Their appearance is brief, but nobody moves a muscle until the noise fades down to the end of the hall, and finally disappears behind the slam of a shut door. And once you can breathe again, you meet the eyes of Marla and Cedric. 

“What the hell?” says Marla, finally, and hushed, “Was that not Selwyn to a tee?” 

Cedric hobbles his way back to the bed and takes a seat, one hand up in his hair. Back at the game… yeah, she was definitely a spitting image of that Henry. It wouldn’t have been your first thought exactly, but there’s no denying it. The physical mannerisms, the entire disregard for anyone’s safety– even their own– and, in fact, it’s like they want to cause harm. You keep an ear out, listening for any other noise– particularly for a set of wheels rolling down the corridor. In any case, you hope that this girl was nowhere near as successful as Henry Selwyn was. 

When she doesn’t get a response, Marla continues, her eyes lingering towards the hallway now, “That was… boorish… She was like an animal.” 

You pin your gaze to the floor, letting Marla’s thoughts loiter around yours and– holy shit– surely not? There’s no fucking way. A sick lurch swirls down in your stomach and almost up your throat, and your heartbeat is picking up when you tear your attention over to that damn textbook. You’re almost too afraid to speak, or to do anything, concerned with looking foolish and, well, perhaps a part of you wants to be foolish. You want this to be an outlandish, coincidental connection. Fuck, you’re gonna be ill. 

With a lack of words, you throw yourself off the chair and snatch the book from Cedric’s bed. Your hands find the exact page and paragraph without even having to think about it, and yeah, there it is. You don’t even need to read the passage to know it, and the confirmation does nothing to quell the dread that’s slowly overtaking your body. 

Animalistic behavior, a perpetual state of sleep– god, it’s so fucking plain and right in your face that you almost refuse to entertain it at all. You have half a mind to shut the book and forget about it completely, when you remember that there are two pairs of curious eyes following you. 

“What’s up?” Cedric asks, head tilted back to watch. You look over at him from the book, and there must be something on your face, or in your stare, because it’s only just a second until he catches on. The book is resigned over to his hands in the moment that he reaches for it. 

“Tell me I’m crazy,” you say, the words clawing themselves out of your mouth. 

From the other end of the bed, Marla doesn’t have the quote ingrained into the crevices of her brain like you and Cedric do. She’s been spared. “You’re crazy. What’s going on?” 

“Oh, this fucking essay… there’s no shot,” Cedric moans, and you can’t decipher if what you see on him is distress or– excitement? He pulls the book into his chest and gapes hard over at you and Marla, giving a solemn nod. “This may be terrible for us… but this is a huge win for my thesis.”

While you resist the urge the physically fucking facepalm, Marla takes her turn with the text. She rips it from Cedric’s grip and lets him advise her, “Second to last paragraph on the left.” 

You can’t figure out which words would help to explain this situation– hell, you don’t even know what the situation is. There are two students seemingly undergoing this cryptic and disgustingly vague description, and you have no idea why or how. And, for some fucking reason, Cedric doesn’t look as sick as you feel. 

“Oh,” says Marla. Fucking oh. Are you the one overreacting here? Or, ideally, maybe you are crazy, and this correlation is actually irrational. Yes, yes, that must be it! And thank god, because you’d really much rather be a fool in this situation— and fuck, Marla and her calm voice— “This is happening. Now.” 

“It’s too perfect! I put a spin on this paragraph and write about how we’re literally seeing it taking place today, in this school. Oh, thank Merlin…” Cedric clasps his hands together and gives them a couple of shakes over each of his shoulders. 

Scratch that— they must be the insane ones. “Hello? Why are we not quivering in fear? Getting to the bottom of it all… or figuring out how to stop this before another student gets hurt?” 

Marla’s perfect posture slumps a little as she meets your eyes. For the first time maybe ever, she’s at a loss. “What do you suggest? Who do we talk to, what do we possibly do with this information?”

And it’s true, you have not a single answer for her. Nobody visits Henry anymore, and every nurse clams up at just the implication of discussing his condition– not to mention that this sort of murky relation might only be distinguishable by someone whose brain has been entirely atrophied by something like Cedric’s command to read.. All rationale left the building approximately three days ago, and everything else has gone downhill since then. Nobody would understand… and besides, what are the odds that this isn’t a coincidence? Maybe there’s nothing to report after all! 

God, you can’t tell if you’re gaslighting yourself into submission and, if you are, you clearly need to work on it. You must be making a face again, because when you stay quiet in response to Marla, the joy drops from Cedric’s expression. He sighs instead.

“Selwyn does get one visitor these days. Maybe we could exhaust that last resource.” 

“Oh? Who is it?” Marla asks.

Cedric frowns, as if this isn’t some of the most unexpected news of the night�� definitely in the top three, if you’re ranking. It’s been days since you’ve seen anyone even linger around Henry’s door, nurses included. Finally, he admits, “Draco Malfoy.”

And– yep, yeah, of course it is. Why the fuck is this guy everywhere? After years of never catching a glimpse of him, now you can’t seem to escape. 

“When?” Your voice comes off more accusatory than inquisitive. Honestly, you don’t know why this is irking you so much– he’s done nothing wrong to you, and, actually, you’ve never even had a particularly unpleasant interaction with him thus far. Whatever the case, you push the train of thought outwards, because the longer you think about him or the little time you’ve spent together, the more your tummy hurts. On another day, you’ll really need to have a talk with yourself about getting in over your head with these sorts of things. 

“Every night, so far. I see him through the peephole.”

“You nosy ass,” says Marla as she falls back onto the mattress and crumpled up blankets, until she can peer directly up at you. Her hair is dry now, and she looks like an angel with the ringlets haloing around her head. “So? Are we doing this?”

Doing what? You’re still trying to wrap your mind around what the hell is happening– or if anything is happening at all. Half of you can’t believe that any of you are entertaining this idea. “We’ll come back tonight and talk to him.” You dart your eyes over to Cedric again. “Is he sneaking in?”

“Must be.” He piles all of his surrounding books onto each other and leaves the stack on his bedside stand. They clink against the glass vase. “He’s also rich and powerful, or whatever, so that’s worth something.”

Marla nearly laughs. “Sure, but that’s all he has going for him these days.” She rocks herself back up. “And he’s okay on the quidditch field.”

Alright, you’ve had enough of this particular route of conversation, and the deal is done regardless, so for now– “We should have our story straight when we fucking bombard him like this.”

“Yeah, our story, which is…?” Cedric crosses his arms. “There hasn’t been anything like this since grade school.”

In hindsight, that era of Hogwarts doesn’t feel so distant from now. And even though the subject at hand is grave enough, this certainly isn’t helping. Time is so fuzzy when you spend forty percent of it in the same room– you aren’t sure at which point in the past couple of weeks that your biggest troubles shifted from enrollment, to this. 

“Could someone be behind it all? An evil mastermind?” Marla suggests as she crosses her right leg over her left and cups her chin. 

“Maybe, perhaps a copycat?” You begin to pace around the tiny room, ignoring how dark it’s become outside, and hoping that the physical movement will encourage the cerebral. “Like, a bootleg Voldemort?” 

And it’s as if your body knows before your brain does, because you glance at Cedric as soon as the words leave you. He’s entirely unfocused– slipping away for a moment– and you’re about to apologize for even saying the name, but he’s back down to Earth before you get the chance. Surprisingly, he breaks into a smile, “A bootleg?”

Merlin, he can be such a simple man, and thankfully, both you and Marla adore him for it. You try to explain yourself through a fit of snickers, but the difficulty is only egged on by the eruption of theirs. Nothing is even funny enough to warrant this, but the scene is nice. It’s a delight to laugh under the weirdest of circumstances, and you’re grateful to be figuring this out with them, of all people. 

By the time you all manage to shut up, Cedric is practically shoving the two of you out the door. The stress of the day has exhausted him, but he promises that he’ll be awake later in the night, when you and Marla return. Funnily enough, the odds of that may be even lower than what it might take to bust this case open. All you can really do now is hope that you find what you’re looking for tonight– whatever the hell that may be.

---

If Draco Malfoy isn’t here, you’re going to kick his ass– royally so. Cedric claimed that he had been visiting every night since Henry fell asleep, always in the most ungodly of hours, and it would be just your luck for him to finally call it quits on the one instance that you’re here to meet him. 

And now, sneaking into the infirmary isn’t the hard part– it’s actually disappointingly easy to alohomora your way inside, and the single night guard is nowhere to be found anyway. In another life, you might raise awareness for the safety of overnight patients and staff, but there’s no place for that tonight. Instead, the difficulty reveals itself not only when you find Cedric knocked out cold in his bed, but also when you discover that you cannot open Henry Selwyn’s door at all. The knob twists but it doesn’t budge like Cedric’s does, and no amount of spells are cutting it this time. 

It becomes pretty clear that you are not getting into this room when even Marla’s efforts are futile. She curses under her breath after the fifth failed attempt, and your neck aches from all of the whipping it does as you keep a lookout. 

“What the hell is up with this doorknob…” You say to mostly yourself, as if the culprit could be anything other than a good charm, and you even kneel down to get a better look at it. It’s just a regular old handle– nothing visibly out of the ordinary– but you’re desperate, and that guard who slipped up earlier could be coming back any minute to strike. Marla takes a step back to relent, but even her focus remains on the door, like she’s pissed off at its defiance.

And that’s when footsteps creep up behind the both of you.

“Having much trouble?” 

You spring up faster than your knees would usually tolerate, turning to meet that confident, nonchalant voice– really, you shouldn't have had to look to know. With hands in his pockets, and that chain that drops from the left side, you can’t believe you didn’t hear him walking down the hall. 

“Hey,” you say, breathless, and hold back from cringing in on yourself– are you suddenly stupid every time he gets near? Who the fuck says hey? 

Meanwhile, Marla’s got one hand on her wand. “What are you doing out here?”

“Excuse me?” His chin dips, and he looks utterly incredulous, taken aback by the sheer audacity. He glances at you– “Hi–” then back to Marla. “I should be asking you both the same question.” 

His calm stance but firm voice does nothing to curb Marla’s defensiveness, so you intervene. “We wanted to talk to you, but…” You try the dumb doorknob again, to no avail. “We couldn’t get in.” 

And then he does something so fucking slick that it whirls your insides. He’s so sly with it, and if you blinked at the wrong time, you would’ve missed it entirely. His hand makes an appearance as he pulls it from his pocket and gives it a turn in the door’s direction, just a little jolt of his fingers, and then– click. 

If it were possible to make the facial expression equivalent to a question mark, you’d be doing it. Magic without a verbal spell is not unheard of by any means– in fact, there are many general requirement classes for that sort of magic in particular, and you’ve already taken two of them– but… damn. You can’t even say anything as he comes closer to lean in– a breath away from you– and twists the knob, pushing the door open ever so slightly, and then closing it again. “Better?”

You almost want to clap your hands at his finesse– do it again, do it again!– but the smoke steaming out from Marla’s ears reigns you in. Her cheeks have gone crimson and she presses onward, “What do you know about Henry Selwyn?”

“What? I don’t know anything.” For a second, the cockiness in his voice is replaced by contempt, until he meets your eyes again. “We should at least get out of the hallway before the interrogation.”

Even Marla can’t argue that. She opens the door and goes into the room first, and everything is normal, but when you follow her, the stiffness– the cold is overbearing. It’s as if the room exists simply to provoke you, to keep you out of it, and every step forward feels like two positive ends of a magnet getting closer. You think you can handle it, and that maybe a nurse left a drafty window open or something– but then you see him. Henry Selwyn.

His eyes are shut at least, and the covers go up to his collarbones… but his skin is so fucking pale, and his cheeks are hollowed out, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen lips so colorless before. Marla goes further into the room– identical but parallel to Cedric’s– as you stop dead in your tracks. An exhale that hits the back of your head doesn’t even phase you because you can’t focus on how close Draco is— all you can think about is getting your fucking feet to move. Just go. 

And, to be fair, you do try. But nope– nope, nope, nope. There’s no fucking way that you can stand in a room with him, with his fucking corpse. He’s alive, sure, but you can’t look at him for too long before the back of your hand meets your mouth, and averting your eyes doesn’t do any help. It’s still so weird— you know he’s there. 

Is this a taste of what insanity feels like? Maybe it’s the circumstances and the late hour– and Henry fucking Selwyn– but you must be losing your mind, because you really don’t mean to be so dramatic. And to make matters worse, the blood rushing to your head must be causing physical hallucinations now. Your altered state of mind could swear that there’s a gentle press on your lower back, but it’s gone before you even register its presence. 

“I’d much rather do this outside, actually.” Draco’s voice comes out from over your shoulder, and when you reluctantly go to look back at him, you’re instantly met with his gaze. From across the room, you can just about hear Marla’s scowl, but you nod graciously and follow his lead back out the door. 

The walk down the hall and right through the infirmary’s entrance is almost shameful– like a failed mission– but Draco is still here, one way or another. And although it’s an entirely different issue of freezing compared to Henry’s room, you endure it for the occasion. 

“Why are you here?” He’s the first to speak up once you find a nice, tall streetlamp to stand beneath, right outside of the building. The warm yellow shine isn’t very bright, but it hits him just enough to make him out. 

You fold your arms across your chest to block out the cold. “We needed to talk to you.” 

“And what? A Divination classroom couldn’t suffice?” 

“It’s about Selwyn,” says Marla, sharp. She has a proper coat with her now, prepared for the weather, but you think that she would thrive under any conditions, regardless of wardrobe. 

When Draco doesn’t verbally respond, you start from the beginning. In a roundabout way of things, you open with Cedric’s essay, and that afternoon in the library— the frustratingly brief phenomenon. Henry Selwyn, and then when that girl came into the infirmary… What was her name again? 

“Rebecca Avery,” he says, interjecting to fill in your gaps. 

Marla squints and takes her opportunity to pry. “You know her?” 

“Of her. She’s a pureblood.” When this gets no satisfying reaction from neither you nor Marla, he sighs. “I was raised to know these sorts of families, you know… the right sort, the wrong.” And then he shrugs, like his upbringing was even remotely normal in comparison to anyone else’s– let alone to anyone else in this conversation alone. 

The tangent throws you off track, but you eventually find your way back to the story. You explain the connections, the overlaps in behavior, the fucking perpetual state of sleep— you’re anxious all over again. And when you give a great sigh, vocal chords exhausted from a loaded ramble, Draco just… fucking blinks at you. His face is no different than when you began, and sure, you don’t know what kind of response you expected— or even wanted— but, for Merlin’s sake, anything would be better than his grand ordeal of nothingness. 

“Why are you telling me this?” 

Okay, well, that’s a… good question– a great one, actually. Why are you telling him this? Because there’s no one else to tell? Or because there’s a chance that he might have some brilliant, key piece of information that could explain everything? You don’t really know. 

Your mouth opens, and absolutely no words come out. For a moment, you’re stunlocked by the hold of Draco’s cool eyes, until Marla comes up with an answer for you– succinct and good enough. “We think this may be serious.” 

“What an astute observation you’ve made.” His voice is suddenly coated with sarcasm, and his frustration is reverberating back onto you. “Shall we go to the headmaster about it? I’m sure even the Daily Prophet would love to hear all about this one. Might throw you lot a ceremony for your wits, bet Diggory can be the mascot–”

“Alright,” you say, entirely fed up, and just before Marla can stick her wand right down his esophagus. The breeze is really starting to chip at your skin, and Draco’s shitheadedness at your mediating resolve. “My fault for thinking that you might actually be interested in this, or in figuring out what the hell is going on.” 

You’ve known this guy for less than a month now, but in an instant, he’s unleashing a whole new layer of attitudes. For example– this is the first time he’s properly glared at you. “Yeah, your fault it is, then.” 

This time you’re the one halfway to your wand when Marla juts in. She’s sharp, eyeing him up and down like a bug beneath her boot. “I’m surprised you’re not jumping at this opportunity, Malfoy, to make up for daddy’s war crimes.” …And now it’s Marla’s turn to get side-eyed by you, because you had no intention of aiming so low– bringing his family into this? His past? It’s increasingly clear that Draco hadn’t been expecting this attack either, because he isn’t quippy enough to beat her to the next line. Instead, Marla continues with another punch that makes you wince. “You want to move on so badly– to pretend that you’re this new, changed man, but you’re the same coward you’ve always been. It’s pathetic.”

“Hold your tongue when you don’t know a damn thing about me.” He shoots his look back over to you, stone-faced and glowering. “And count me out of your juvenile schemes. I want no part in any of it.”Then, before you can say anything, he’s gone. He storms off, down the side of the infirmary wall and out of sight when he makes a left turn. And now you can’t even bring yourself to face Marla again, teeth grit to keep from chattering and wondering how a simple conversation could possibly escalate this far. Whatever direction this night was supposed to go in, you’re sure this is the exact opposite.

last chapter <- -> next chapter

[gatheringbones]

[“As the first step in establishing a base and fanning the fires of revolution, the Party began agitation of farmers to seek their own interests — the right of owning land or reduction of land rent. This struggle, however, remained sporadic and weak and did not constitute a mass movement.

To better meet the enemy, which remained strong in the village, the Party began the elimination of influence of the village notables and local security agents. However, it failed to follow this with the development of a mass base. The cadres thought that efforts to end the authority of the village leaders alone would be enough. The enemy succeeded in maintaining the village administration. In the face of such a situation the Party called for a meeting:

We explained to the villagers the evil caused by village notables and security agents. We awoke the people to the fact that if the American-Diem clique succeeded in permanently maintaining the organization of village notables and security, soon Mister H, the cruel landlord, and others would return to the village to seize land and collect back rent. For that reason, we said, the farmers must eliminate the influence of the village notables and sweep away the security agents. At the same time we sought to win the sympathy of the families of the village notables (while we were urging the masses to rise up and eliminate the influence of the notables). It was a good method. After a while certain notables refused to work for the enemy and took the side of the people. Thus, when our enemies tried to begin projects in the village no one would work for them. The US-Diem clique tried to win back the people by distributing drugs in the village. The offer was flatly rejected. Some of the people even debated openly and strongly with the enemy agents. Finally the Diem clique had to abandon the village, no village council could be maintained there.

— Extract from “Experiences in Turning XB Village in Kien Phong Province into a Combatant Village”; a People’s Revolutionary Party document.

To any American reading such a document it would seem that the Front cadre — if he were telling the truth — had left something out. How, after all, could mere propaganda have any effect on these (rightly) cynical and suspicious peasants? As much strangers to the village as the government agents, the cadres had come along and asked the villagers to join them in the desperate task of evicting those people who had always dominated the village, thereby exposing themselves to retaliation by the GVN. Why should the villagers have trusted them any more than they trusted the government officials?

When asked such questions, the villagers throughout South Vietnam tended to give one answer with great consistency: “The Liberation cadres (or, for the benefit of the Americans, “the Viet Cong”) were nice to us… they behaved politely and nicely to the people… they talk to us in a friendly manner… they do not thunder at the people like the Government soldiers. The thing that the people don’t like about the Government officials is their behavior… the Viet Cong treat us well.”

To the “hardheaded” American analysts of insurgency tactics, the fact that the NLF cadres were “nicer” than the government officials and soldiers hardly seemed an adequate explanation for the success of the NLF. Surely the peasants did not join the guerrillas because the guerrillas were polite.

While most analysts agreed that the ARVN could help the war effort by refraining from rape, theft, and pillage, they could not quite see how good manners might translate into the hardware of “population control” and military recruitment figures.

Q. Have you any problems or reasons to be dissatisfied with your life… with the GVN cadres?

A. There was nothing for me to be dissatisfied with. Because of VC propaganda I joined the Front.

Q. What did you think were the differences between the Front and the GVN and their policies?

A. This was beyond my understanding.

From such remarks as these the analysts could only conclude that the recruit was concealing something. While it is impossible to ascertain the truth about any young man, it is highly probable that many were telling the whole truth, that the explanation for their desire to join the Front lay squarely within such testimony.

Even in the 1960’s many South Vietnamese went through half a lifetime without having any personal contact with a government official. The fact that the NLF cadres had sought them out and spent time talking to them made an impression on them such as Americans must find it difficult to imagine. To such young Vietnamese the NLF cadres were powerful people. They had weapons at their disposal, they brought the exciting air of the outside world with them — and yet they talked to the people of the village as if they cared for them and needed their support. Those young men who had met the GVN officials usually had not had at all the same experience with them. On the contrary, the GVN officials were often “haughty” and “arrogant”: they made no effort to establish personal relationships or to show their concern for the people. As one former NLF propaganda cadre, who had covered seven provinces of the Delta, analyzed the GVN propaganda in 1965,

The substance is good but the propaganda cadres don’t have an appropriate attitude in dealing with people. They aren’t dressed the way the people are; the GVN armed propaganda cadres come to the village and swear and don’t know how to gain people’s sympathy. Their way of living and their behavior are different from those of the people. They work not as cadres but as officials.

The Americans, who were by then organizing the propaganda campaigns of the GVN, believed in the “substance” of the propaganda. The villagers, by contrast, believed in what they saw with their own eyes: the GVN officials did not care for them. The GVN wanted not to win them over, but merely to rule them. “]

frances fitzgerald, from fire in the lake: the vietnamese and the americans in vietnam, 1972

[transmutationisms]

hello, this might be a weird question but i was wondering why alot of communists seem to be against people having multiple sexual partners, it doesn't seem to be a thing exclusive to weird "trad communist" types, lenin himself said that promiscuity is bourgeois and an intoxicant (https://www.marxists.org/archive/zetkin/1925/lenin/zetkin2.htm) and while i could see it being hard to balance with political organizing, a life of being a militant does have to come with alot of personal sacrifices anyways.

there's not going to be a singular answer here because attitudes about sex vary widely among self-identified communists and for that matter so do attitudes about 'communism'. i also am not any kind of expert on lenin or soviet history. however, just looking at his reasoning as stated in this text, the quote you've zeroed in on goes:

Promiscuity in sexual matters is bourgeois. It is a sign of degeneration. The proletariat is a rising class. It does not need an intoxicant to stupefy or stimulate it, neither the intoxicant of sexual laxity or of alcohol. It should and will not forget the vileness, the filth and the barbarity of capitalism. It derives its strongest inspiration to fight from its class position, from the communist ideal. What it needs is clarity, clarity, and more clarity. Therefore, I repeat, there must be no weakening, no waste and no dissipation of energy Self-control and self-discipline are not slavery; not in matters of love either.

emphasis mine.

so, what he's saying (as relayed by clara zetkin; let's assume she's quoting him faithfully) is that sex is a special kind of activity because, like alcohol, it is "intoxicating"—a way of stimulating or stupefying the proletariat, and therefore a threat to both the health of the individual body, and the health and political fortitude of workers as a class. and again:

[Communist youth organisations discussing "sex problems"] is especially dangerous and damaging to the youth movement. It can easily lead to sexual excesses, to overstimulation of sex life and to wasted health and strength of young people. [...] Communism should not bring asceticism, but joy and strength, stemming, among other things, from a consummate love life. Whereas today, in my opinion, the obtaining plethora of sex life yields neither joy nor strength. [...] Healthy sports, such as gymnastics, swimming, hiking, physical exercises of every description and a wide range of intellectual interests is what they need, as well as learning, study and research, and as far as possible collectively. This will be far more useful to young people than endless lectures and discussions on sex problems and the so-called living by one’s nature.

emphasis mine again.

it's important to note here that lenin's objection is not exactly to a certain number of sexual partners, per se (he is consistently scathing of the "disgustingly false sex morality" of bourgeois marriage), but to an 'excessive' amount of sex, which he sees as intoxicating, distracting, and weakening young people, mentally and physically. this argument may sound stupid and bad, and it is. however, it was also a very commonly defended mainstream medical opinion in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries; this is not just something lenin has invented himself. the reference to "degeneration" and the comparison to alcoholism (considered one of the main causes, and symptoms, of degeneration) tell me that lenin is concerned about 'freedom of love' being not a liberatory state, but a corrupting, insalubrious force of social decline, the psychological desire for which results from a reaction to bourgeois morality but fails to free itself from the capitalist conditions giving rise to such ideology.

indeed lenin spelled out his position 5 years earlier, in 1915 (& seems to have remained relatively consistent) in two letters to inessa armand. although he says that people (specifically women) should be free in matters of love from financial calculations, religious prejudice, legal interference, familial prohibitions, &c, he goes on to decry the idea that such "freedom of love" includes freedom from "the serious element in love", freedom from childbirth, or freedom of adultery. these latter three he says are bourgeois, not proletarian, demands.

so, when we put this together, what emerges (exclusively from reading lenin's stated positions; this would be only a first step to a real historical analysis) is an idea of sexual morality that prizes 'restraint' and self-control and views sexual pleasure as dangerous in excess; that opposes bourgeois marriage but also opposes a perceived libertinism that arises as its opposite; that fears energy is being wasted on cerebral discussions of sexuality that distract from the material conditions of oppression & fail to change them; and that is expressed through the medical terminology of degeneracy theory and discourses on physico-moral sensitivity and the susceptibility of the body to exhaustion and corruption by excessive pleasurable stimulation.

again, dissecting lenin on this is not equivalent to providing a general explanation of how sex-negative attitudes arise among communists (& i don't think such a singular explanation exists lol). but there are definitely some throughlines we could trace here, from degeneracy theory (rarely named as such these days, but still a motivating fear in a lot of cultural prognostication) to the general discomfort with 'excessive' sexuality. i don't think communists are more prone to these sorts of ideas than anyone else, but, yknow, also not magically exempt.

[exeggcute]

the internet and Tumblr in general was already full of shut ins with anxiety and COVID has obviously transformed many of them into hypochondriac agoraphobes who are well trained on moralizing lol. there are people who still think we should never have ended lockdown and that it somehow had no negative social or economic impacts, or at least that the economy is fake enough that those impacts weren't really real

lol yeah. answering this in daylight hours I feel like I should preface it with a note about how I've been masking consistently for four years straight (and have only recently started easing up in certain situations), have lost respect for and/or ended friendships with people who were doing reckless shit during the height of the pandemic, all that. god knows I have an anxious hypochondriac shut-in streak lol. but if the bitch with contamination OCD who's been doing the "disinfect your phone when you get home" thing for years and years before covid and who has literal nightmares about people wearing shoes in my house is like hey guys I think you might be exaggerating some of this just a bit. well. imagine how literally anyone else is gonna feel...

also for reference the thing that got me on this soapbox was an article I saw shared on bluesky about how san francisco is currently experiencing "the highest covid wastewater rates ever measured," which immediately sounded off to me, so I read the damn article, and what it actually seemed to be saying was that there's a summer spike in CA right now same as there's been for the last several summers, and SF currently has a higher rate than any other region in CA at the moment. (the article was legit poorly written to the point where it was hard to tell, but a different wastewater graph someone pulled up seemed to corroborate my reading of this. the current spike is still a fraction of pre-vaccine spikes.)

which, like, is useful information even without the embellishment! I would appreciate knowing that so I could adjust my behavior accordingly. and I'd like to believe that your average person who's receptive to stuff would also take the truth in good stride. so why do we have to fucking lie about it lol.

and to some extent I really do get the impulse to catastrophize because there's no way around it: we super duper fucked up the initial covid response. many individuals were callous and most institutions failed to protect us. but at the same time (1) barn door situation and (2) I don't think exaggerating risks now does anything to compensate for the downplayed risks being peddled to us for the last several years. it's more than fair to celebrate wins when they come (all the new tools in our anti-covid toolbelt, improved case/death rates) without erasing the many many losses up to this point.

still gonna wear a mask on airplanes and shit for the rest of my life though. I'm glad that's an iota more socially acceptable now (and jealous of places where it's already been the norm this whole time) because people are fucking nasty!!!

[jeannereames]

Your top 5 Alexander the Great moments?

Top Five Alexander Moments

One issue with answering this is to figure out what events actually happened, especially when it comes to anecdotes! Here are four I find either significant to understanding his charisma and/or which explain how he functioned and why he was successful, plus one I like just because I’m a horse girl.

1) To my mind, the event that best illustrates why his men followed him to the edge of their known world occurred in the Gedrosian Desert. While I’m a bit dubious that this trek was as bad as it’s made out to be (reasons exist for exaggerating), it was still baaaad. One story relates that some of his men found some brackish water in a sad little excuse for a spring, gathered it in a helm, and brought it to him. Given his poor physical condition after the Malian siege wound, he no doubt needed it badly. He thanked them (most sincerely), then carried it out where all (or at least a lot) of his men could see, raised it overhead, and announced that until all of them could drink, he wouldn’t. Then he poured it onto the rocky ground.

That gesture exemplified his charisma. And it absolutely is not something the likes of a Donald tRump could even imagine doing—nor most dictators, tbh. They’d be blaming everybody else and calling for heads while drinking Diet Coke, not suffering alongside their people.

This wasn’t an isolated event of that type. While he almost certainly didn’t have time to engage along with his soldiers in every project, we’re told he would drop in from time-to-time, to inspire them and to offer a little friendly competition.

He also dressed like his men for everyday activities, especially early in the campaign. As time went on, some sources say he inserted more distance—probably necessary as his duties exploded—but he still seems to have found time to “just hang out” with his Macedonians on occasion. The claims that he was too high and mighty to do so appears to have been exaggeration (as such accusations often are) in order to forward a narrative that he was “going Asian.” Troop resentment over court changes was very genuine—I don’t want to underplay it (especially as I’ve written about it in a few chapters in this), but it tended to boil up during certain periods/events, then die back again. Alexander was trying to walk a very fine line of incorporating the conquered while not ticking off his own people.

2) Reportedly, he once threw a man out of line because he hadn’t bothered to secure the chin strap on his helm. I pick this one because it tells me a whole lot about how he saw himself as a commander, and what he expected of his men (and why he tended to consistently win).

On the surface, his reaction seems almost petty. It’s precisely the sort of mistake students whine about when professors ding them for it. It’s just a chin strap! I’d have tightened it before I went into battle! (It’s just a few typos; you knew what I meant! Or, Why does everything in the bibliography have to be exactly matching in style? Who cares? What a stupid thing to obsess about!) These objections are all of a piece. First, they’re lazy, and second, they indicate a disconcern with details. In battle, such disconcern can get a person killed. And on a larger scale, for a general, such disconcern loses battles.

One of the striking aspects of Alexander’s military operations was just how well his logistics worked. Consistently. We hear little about them precisely because they rarely fail. Food and water was there when they needed it, as were arrow replacements, wood to repair the spears, wool and leather for clothes and shoes, canvas for tents, etc., etc. All those little niggling (boring) details. If these are missing, soldiers become upset (and don’t fight well). Starting with Philip, the Macedonian military was a well-oiled machine. That’s WHY Gedrosia was such a shock: the logistics collapsed. Contra some historians, he did not do it to “punish” his men, nor to best Cyrus.* He had a sound reason—to scout a trade route.

Alexander understood that details matter. It starts with a loose chinstrap. (Or an unplanned-for storm and rebellion in his rear.) Everything else can unravel from that.

3) Alexander sends Hephaistion a little dish of small fish (probably smelts). He also helps an officer secure the lady of his dreams. And writes another on assignment (away from the army) that a mutual friend is recovering from an illness. While technically three “moments,” these are all of a piece. Alexander knows his men, and is concerned not only for their physical well-being, but also their mental state: that they’re happy. Granted, these are all elite officers, but it suggests he’s paying attention to people. I’ve always assumed he sent Hephaistion the fish because they were his friend’s favorite, and/or they were a special treat and he wanted to share. That he didn’t punish an officer for going AWOL to chase the mistress he wanted but offered advice, and even assistance, on how to court and secure her suggests the same care.

I don’t want to take away from what appears to be his serious anger management problems(!), but little details like those above strike me as the likeable side of Alexander—why his men were so devoted to him.

4) Then we have the encounter with Timokleia after the siege of Thebes. While probably a bit too precious to have occurred exactly as related, I think it may still hold a kernel of truth.

Alexander had a reputation of chivalry towards his (highborn) female captives. If some of that was likely either propaganda from his own time or philhellenic whitewashing later by Second Sophistic authors such as Plutarch (and Arrian), poor treatment of women is not something we hear attributed to him.

Ergo, while the meeting was probably doctored for a moral tail, he may well have freed Timokleia as an act of clemency to put a better face on a shocking destruction he knew wouldn’t sit well with the rest of Greece—who he both wanted to cow yet earn support from. (A difficult balancing act.) Also, if Timokleia hadn’t been high-born, she’d probably have been hauled off to one of the prisoner cages with little fanfare.

Nonetheless, I find his actions surprising given the casual misogyny of his era. If we can take the bare bones of the story as true, and it’s not all invented, Timokleia was raped as a matter of course during the sacking of Thebes, then managed to trick her rapist and kill him by pushing him down a well and dropping rocks on him. I assume this happened when his men weren’t there, but they found out soon enough and hauled her in front of Alexander to be punished for killing an officer. To the surprise of all, Alexander decided the man had earned it and freed Timokleia. One might be inclined to call this overly sentimental, but….

There’s a similar story that occurred much later in the Levant, when two of Parmenion’s men seduced/(raped?) the mistresses/wives of some mercenaries. Alexander instructed Parmenion to kill the Macedonians if they were found to be guilty.

In both cases, we have an affront against (respectable) women. In the latter case, Alexander was (no doubt) working to avoid conflict between hired soldiers and his own men, who—in typical Greek fashion—would have looked down on mercenaries as a matter of course. Some sort of conflict between Macedonians and Greek mercenaries up in Thrace had almost got Alexander’s father killed. Alexander saved him. No doubt that was on Alexander’s mind here.

Yet what both events illuminate is a willingness on Alexander’s part to punish his own men for affronts to honor/timē that involved women. Yes, this is clearly about discipline. But it also shows an unusual sensitivity to sex crimes in warfare: actions that would normally fall under the excuse of “boys will be boys” (especially when their blood is up).

I doubt he’d have felt the same about slaves or prostitutes; he was still a product of his time. Yet without overlooking his violence—sometimes extreme (the genocide of the Branchidai, for instance)—I find his reaction in these cases to be evidence of an atypical sympathy for women that I’d like to think isn’t wholly an invention of later Roman authors. And just might show the influence of his mother and sisters.

5) Last… the Boukephalas story…because who doesn’t love a good “a boy and his horse” tale? Obviously the Plutarchian version is tweaked to reflect that author’s later concern to contrast the Macedonian “barbarian” Philip with the properly Hellenized Alexander. Ignore the editorializing remarks, especially the “find a kingdom big enough for you” nonsense.

But the bare bones of the story seem likely: unmanageable horse, cocky kid, bet with dad, gotcha moment. You can imagine this was an anecdote Alexander retold a time or three, or twenty.

——

* His attempts to copy Cyrus may be imposition by later writers. In his own day, he may have cared more about the first Darius, for reasons Jenn Finn is going to explain in a forthcoming, very good article on the burning of Thebes and Persepolis.

[classicanalyzer]

What If Season 3 - What If... What If? Thoughts

"It's beautiful." Uatu

"No, it just is. You are a Watcher now. You make no judgments. Only observations." The Eminence

"Then what is the point of just watching?" Uatu

"Well, only with time can a Watcher begin to understand that for themselves. If I am certain of one thing, is that your conclusion will not disappoint." The Eminence

"Thank you. I will never fail you." Uatu

The finale certainly was the finale of all time. While it isn't devoid of any good moments, it is a disappointing end to the series (for now provided the show gets revived). However, every episode before the two-part finale has been consistently amazing.

I really love Uatu and the Emmience's student and mentor dynamic in the opening, and you understand why Uatu wants to show Uatu how he views the Multiverse after three seasons of watching. It's great to see a main antagonist reformed rather than be killed like the previous two seasons (Strange Supreme did reform but he did die).

I really do like how Uatu saved a lot of people off-screen, even ones who don't have a massive role in their universes. It showcases his growth throughout the show.

Infinity Ultron finally fulfilling Tony's dream for him is pretty heartwarming, even if it took the death of everyone in his universe for him to have that epiphany. The way the Emminence easily dispatched him showcases how the Order of the Watchers is on a completely different scale of power compared to Uatu, who needed the form the Guardians of the Multiverse to stand against Infinity Ultron.

This finale is mainly just one big fight. There are a lot of Kirby dots which is visually noice and the fight is at least visually done.

Seeing Doctor Strange Supreme help out the heroes is a really good capper to his story by showing how he is the universe he restored now.

Every time the Executioner speaks, I can't help but be reminded of Ardyn's voice.

I had forgotten that Uatu was always referred to as the Watcher until he redeclared his name.

It's a big disappointment that Captain Carter died since I was actually excited to see more of her universe. I really wanted to see what her universe's Civil War would've been like, even if it was a glimpse. This also applies to Kahhori, Byrdie, and Storm's universes. Also, I really hope they don't become Watchers forever since I do want to see more of their universes. I'm also not comfortable with the idea that at least Carter just abandoned her universe to go around the Multiverse.

Honestly, I wished the whole episode leaned more into the trial aspect than just being another fight. I don't really have a lot to talk about because of how much of it was just one big fight scene. My thoughts on Episode 7 are a bit more negative since the follow-up didn't really satisfy the questions I have from the last episode. The end credits showed us a lot of episode concepts I wished we could've seen, but alas the show had to end just when it was really getting amazing.

Laura Karpman and Nora Kroll-Rosenbaum really nailed the music in this show. I hope Laura's score in Brave New World lives up to Henry Jackman's scores, and I really hope she reprises Sam's theme from Jackson's score.

Overall, Season 3's episodes have been mostly pretty strong, similar to S2, except for the two-part finale. My favorite episode is definitely Episode 6, and my least favorite episode is Episode 8. I'll miss this show, and I really hope it gets revived in the future. I also hope the Marvel Zombies show is better than the episode it was based on.

"With some mysteries, sometimes the only answer is another question. You see... Time. Space. Reality. It's more than a linear path. It's a prism of endless possibility, where a single choice can branch off into infinite realities, creating new phenomena beyond what you could possibly imagine. I am Uatu. I see all these vast new realities. Open your eyes, dare to face the unknown and ponder the question... 'What If?'" Uatu

[mudmouths]

Hey. So, like, can we talk about P_yp_l?

I’ve been trying to donate to a lot of different causes, lately. Charity marathon streams such as Games Done Quick, friends trying to get by, and, most critically, people under siege in Gaza. But, on many sites, I’m unable to do so, despite having the money to spare.

The thing all these sites have in common is that they are processed through P_yp_l.

See, I really don’t want to make an account. With their recent Honey scandal, alongside numerous other factors, I don’t want to surrender my information directly to a service I feel I can’t trust.

But if a vendor handles their transactions through it, I’ve noticed a consistent, vague error message. The standard, useless “Sorry! Something went wrong” that tells you nothing about what actually happened.

At first, I wasn’t sure what to make of it. I had successfully sent money as a guest (typically depicted as an option like “Pay with Card”) through P_yp_l before. Why was it failing now?

So I did some digging. And the answer is infuriating.

Granted, it’s not outright confirmed, so take it with a grain of salt. The only information I could find about this matter whatsoever was on a few spare Reddit threads. But I can find no other explanation for this.

If you use the same card to pay as a guest a certain number of times, P_yp_l will BLOCK THE CARD, permanently, from being used unless you sign up with an account. Even if the site has an option that says “Pay with Credit or Debit,” it’s still handled through P_yp_l, and will be blocked.

Yes, you’re reading this correctly. P_yp_l will prevent you from using your own money if they deem you to have used the guest mode too much. And it’s per card number, so no browser switching or VPN can stop it.

It absolutely breaks my heart that so many causes and families I’d like to put my money towards cannot receive it due to corporate greed, and a monopoly on online payment processing.

So, I beg of you- if you’re arranging a fundraiser for something, whether it be a charity event or helping someone escape genocide- please, please try to host it somewhere that doesn’t use P_yp_l to handle its transactions.

The sites Chuffed and Ko-fi are affected by this, in my experience.

I can only imagine how many others have received this same vague error while just trying to help those in need.

GFM, thankfully, handles its own payments. It may be complicit in blocking funds meant for Gazans, but at least it allows donations to be made at all. At least it even gives the chance for it to reach those it’s meant for.

Fuck P_yp_l. Fuck GFM, too, but as it stands, it’s unfortunately one of the most consistent options to avoid this issue.

Thanks for reading. And, hey, while you’re here, can you match my $25 contribution to help Suad and her baby? Even if you can’t, any amount- or sharing the campaign- helps.