#i took it upon myself to learn about these cultures

[lakes-galore-moved]

"if you grow up in a multicultural society you should learn a bit about the cultures you grow up around" and "you shouldn't judge people who grew up in monocultural societies for having some cultural biases especially if they grow and change from that after learning some more worldly approaches" are two ideas that can and should coexist

[bakuhatsufallinlove]

re: 405

This is gonna be long.

First, I'm bringing this post back around to remind people that kocchi is a pronoun of ambiguous plurality.

This means that an interpretation of "we" is just as correct as an interpretation of "I." Readers may interpret it differently, but on simply linguistic grounds, they are of equal validity.

You will often see this kind of ambiguous language used in Japanese, even with characters that are forthright. The reason is one part cultural expectation that the listener will read between the lines, and one part a willingness to accept two things as simultaneously true. This exists and is frequently found in English as well, there just isn't a direct parallel for kocchi itself.

What I want most out of writing this blog, aside from personal enjoyment, is for people to understand that there can be more to a story for you to engage with, think about, and be moved by, when you step outside the boundaries of your own language and culture.

I think that is a much more interesting space to be in than a gotcha-laden approach of trying to prove something wrong or bad.

But if we are going to talk accuracy, the fact is that the fan translation many people have been upholding as superior has just as many problems as the official one. It takes just as many creative liberties, they are simply different ones.

The fan translator centered an "I" reading and, rather than using either of the two pronouns provided by the text ("OFA" and あいつ, meaning "that guy"), added a narratively-charged word ("nerd") that did not exist in the original and which (as far as I can tell) Katsuki has never used when speaking to villains. As a translator myself, I really disagree with that second choice. The official clearly missed the callback, but noticed the theme of "everyone who has faced AFO until now" and went with "we." The rest was just style over substance which prioritized edgy language to capture the aggression of the line; this falls squarely in line with what Viz has consistently maintained as its in-house aesthetic. It's disappointing, but unsurprising to me.

Fandom oscillates pretty violently between vilifying the official English release and fawning over it. Whole fan theories are built upon nitty gritty bits of the official release's phrasing; people will get excited over how homoerotic a line sounds, and it's because of how the official translator worded it, rather than any innate implication in the original Japanese.

If you do not speak Japanese, your experience of MHA is fundamentally dependent on the work of translators. I respect that everybody has their personal tastes or hopes for how the series will go, but it is deeply demoralizing as a Japanese speaker and translator to see fans who don't speak any Japanese at all act as though their opinion has the same weight of authority as people who do.

You are entitled to your preferences, but please recognize that they are based in taste, not personal knowledge. Not all Japanese translators will even agree in their interpretations, but it weirds me out that some non-Japanese-speaking fans will use this fervor to spread misinformation far and wide that proclaims as inaccurate perfectly good official translations, simply because the choices don't suit their own tastes.

The lists of "times the fan translations were better" I've seen mostly contain instances where the fan translators took greater liberties than the official release did, and some fans just happened to like the liberties that were taken.

We all reasonably hated the "best friend" fan translation of chapter 359, but somehow that isn't a point forever against fan translations the same way mistakes in the official release are?

At this point, it makes me wonder what the point of writing about linguistic nuance is, if the interest is primarily not in learning but in being told what you want to hear.

I know posting this won't win me any favor with anybody, but it's how I feel. I'm bummed about 405's last line in the official. I do hope it gets revised. But the vibes around translation details are getting decidedly unfun.

One last thought: if you well and truly want to experience MHA unfiltered, learn Japanese. I mean this sincerely, I'm not trying to be a jerk. We live in an age where it is easier and more possible than ever to acquire a new language, talk to people around the world, and absorb yourself in culture and history.

If you want to remove middle-men and develop your own relationship with a work unfettered by the tastes, biases, or choices of others, learn the language. It won't be easy, but I can guarantee you won't regret broadening your horizons and discovering even more beautiful stories in the world.

[elderscrollsconceptart]

I love elder scrolls but I'm sad about how orientalist it can be

I didn't specialize in it, but The College and department I went to specialized in South East Asian studies. So for a long time I've been acutely aware of the obvious artistic and creative influences on various TES societies, art styles, motifs, etc.

Orientalism has a bizarre mix of pandering assumptive stereotypes, romanticism, and at its worst, pure racism. Orientalism originated via dangerous and racist western attitudes of past centuries which were used to simplify and insultingly coddle and ostracize non-western cultures while also allowing westerners to access said cultures via a smug sense of superiority and curiosity.

There are a lot of East Asian, South Asian, North African, Middle Eastern influences in the various societies and cultures of TES.

I cannot speak for how people of those backgrounds may feel about how the various artistic styles and inspirations have influenced the art and lore of TES.

All I can say is there is a lot of IRL cultural influence in TES. Creating a vast fantasy world and *not* taking IRL cultural inspiration is hard. IMO it's practically unavoidable unless you want to get REAL WEIRD with the lore and art in the way Michael Kirkbride does (he can create genuinely alien cultures).

I am of the personal opinion that cultural artistic inspiration is fine as long as it is done with *deep* respect, care, and dignity towards the civilization it is taking inspiration from.

I personally feel TES does more than enough to go beyond simple cultural artistic inspirations and creates something that is both very familiar and also entirely new.

For example, let's look at how Argonian art and culture is depicted in TES.

Besides the Kukri knives which are of South Asian origin, were largely looking at a fictitious culture that has extreme aesthetic similarities to indigenous cultures of Central and South America.

I myself am descended from such people IRL.

I have direct family connections to specific tribes in Northern and central Mexico. Am I bothered seeing a fictional series taking direct artistic inspiration from the ancient cultures of my ancestors? And that our culture is applied to a bunch of weird lizard people no less?

Yes, it does bother me a little. However, when I think about it I also realize there is nothing ignoble about the Argonian people or how they are represented in game or art. I mean look at them. What is there to be ashamed of when you look at them, talk to them, *see* the Argonians and how they live?

The Argonians are quite frankly, super fucking cool badasses. They have a complicated, dark, heroic, and fascinating history. Just like my ancestors. Why would I shy away from seeing the culture of my ancestors inspiring a proud fictional civilization?

There's nothing to be ashamed of when I see my culture represented or taken inspiration from as long as it is not being used in a demeaning or insulting manner.

I don't feel Bethesda is acting with racist or ill intentions when they take artistic inspirations from real cultures. I want to give them credit. A lot of very intelligent and learned people work for Bethesda. Many of their creatives come from all over the world and from many different cultural backgrounds.

For example! Many of the artists who worked on the western inspired civilizations of Cyrodiil and Skyrim were of East Asian, South Asian, and African descent. They took it upon themselves to learn the artistic cultural stylings they wanted to take inspiration from and to represent them in an authentic but still creative and unique way. This is what any good fantasy series should be able to do.

They know the world is huge and every culture is endlessly diverse. There should be no shame in depicting or taking inspiration from a culture or their artistic style as long as such inspiration and depiction is done diligently, honestly, and with respect.

I feel that the art and artists of TES have faced up to this challenge and expectation and have (largely) met it. There are some examples that do make me roll my eyes, but even these are largely just cases of lazy artistic expression or generic inspiration.

All in all, artists and creatives absolutely can and should do more to ensure their inspirations from non-western cultures are done with tact and respect. I personally feel the creative behind TES have been meeting expectations in this regard and have done a fair job of taking inspiration without being insulting.

[humiliationstories124]

New college friends get a show

My junior year in college, I went for a study abroad program in Australia. This was a big step for me. I was a naïve farm boy from rural Pennsylvania. I had never been on an airplane before. My mom is afraid of heights; my dad is afraid of water. That combination meant that any family vacations were limited to short jaunts in the car.

My social development was a bit hindered by my upbringing. Growing up, my mom's best friend had been a duck. I, myself, wasn't quite that sheltered, but I still had missed out on many of the social opportunities of my peers. My mom was a neat freak, and thus never let me invite any friends over.

So, going to Australia was my first opportunity to escape the (over)protective wings of my mother. Maybe 10,000 miles was overkill -- but I had gone as far away from home as possible. The "you must be home by 9pm on weekends" and other assorted rules imposed by my mother would no longer apply.

Although I was now free of my familial restrictions, I was still a shy guy. I hadn't yet learned how to be comfortable in social settings with other people. For the most part, my Australian experience consisted of going to class, going to the beach (by myself), and teaching myself how to cook.

One thing I learned through my Lonely Planet Guide was that there was a nearby nude beach in Swanbourne. It was just a bus ride, followed by a short train ride, away. It became my escape. The farm boy in me loved nature. The introvert in me was uncomfortable among people. But, I could venture off to the beach by myself. The beach was never really that crowded, and I could set myself up on a towel and enjoy some solitude, either reading a book, watching the waves, or just taking a nap.

I really didn't make that many friends at university. A few times, people invited me out, but the shy guy in me said "no" even though I didn't have any plans.

Many of my classes were quite large; i.e. 200 students in a big theatre-type classroom. It was easy to blend into the crowd and go un-noticed. However, one of my classes (cross-cultural psychology) had just 15 students in it. It was a late afternoon class, and thus was probably half comprised of "non-traditional" students at the university, which did cater to a large commuter population (as opposed to residents like me).

In the class, we would often arrange our chairs in a circle and have group discussions. In my other lectures, I could safely avoid being called upon. But, in a class of just 15, you really couldn't hide. So, this was really the first opportunity that a small segment of my classmates had an opportunity to get to know me, as I presented my ideas in class.

Following one of the classes, two guys asked me if I wanted to go grab a drink. My brain was thinking "no", but for once, the inner introvert was overruled. I guess it was helped that these guys seemed "normal" in class, and so I conceded.

They took me to a bar in Freemantle. With a few drinks, the conversation began to flow a little more easily. It was obvious (from my accent) that I was an American, and they asked the typical questions about where I was from, how I liked Australia, etc. One commented on my tan and cautioned me about the hole in the ozone above Australia. I acknowledged that I was aware of the hole, but I just loved the beach too much. The other asked me what beach was my favorite. I replied, "Cottesloe."

"Oh, are you sure it isn't Swanbourne?" the other asked me.

"No, I don't go there," I said, blushing.

"Are you sure?" asked the other.

I don't know why they were pestering me with such questions. I was embarrassed to admit I went to a nude beach. I pretended that I had never been. However, for some reason, I sensed they knew otherwise. Maybe they were scholars of psychology and I was not a good liar? But, then I started questioning myself -- maybe they had seen me at the nude beach? Was that possible? I had no recollection of ever seeing them there.

It's probably no surprise, I was still a virgin at this point in my life. In fact, I really hadn't even contemplated my sexuality. I assumed I was straight. I had no experience to back up that assumption. I also had no experience in identifying if others were gay. Well, basically, I thought all gay men were like Priscilla, Queen of the Desert.

Yet, something about these two men from my psychology class made me start questioning. I ran through various scenarios in my head, and I concluded that these two men were boyfriends.

I really can't explain how the thoughts in my brain evolved. I was confused by the interest of these two men. Was it just the Australian friendliness, and I was reading way too much into it? No one had ever really gone out of their way to befriend me before, and while I was confused, I was also becoming aware that I liked the attention.

Sometime before the next class, I concocted a "scheme". Granted, it wasn't all that well thought out of a scheme. It was a chess game, and I was only thinking of my next move. That afternoon, I put on a scooped tank top. It was my favorite tank top. It was probably more appropriate for the gym than for a class, but then again, everything in Australia was so relaxed (many students even went barefoot to class). The deep arm scoops in the side of the tank top gave good visibility to the sides of my pecs when I raised my arms. And, although I was no muscle god, years of working on the family farm had given me a lean body that, admittedly, I enjoyed looking at naked in the mirror.

I also wore my favorite pair of umbro shorts. Designed to allow unrestricted movement while sprinting during a soccer game, the umbros had considerably wider leg openings than most shorts. I had modeled these shorts in front of a mirror many times before. I knew that, when positioned just so, it was easy to see up the leg holes of these shorts.

So, for that next class, I deliberately selected a seat in the circle sitting directly opposite my two new friends (they always sat side-by-side in class). The classroom was just a circle of desks/chairs, with nothing in the middle. I knew that the two guys would have the ability to take an unrestricted view up my shorts. But would they even look?

I can't even recall what that lecture was about. I was focused on my 'tease' of the two guys. I didn't feel threatened by them. I knew they were boyfriends, and thus they weren't seeking something sexual with me. But, if they liked to look, I was going to let them take a peek.

My suspicions were rather quickly confirmed. I would look over to either my left or right when another student was speaking, and when I returned my vision straight ahead, I would notice the two guys quickly looking away from me.

We went out to drink after the class and several that followed. These guys were becoming my first two friends. A couple times we went to bars, and I learned of the Australian custom of "shouting". Basically, if it was someone's birthday, they bought the entire bar a round. It was a nice surprise of getting a free drink and not even knowing the person.

However, my 21st birthday was approaching, and I was nervous. I was finally coming out of my shell. You only have one 21st birthday, right? But, I knew that I couldn't afford to buy a round of drinks for an entire bar. So, I was contemplating staying in on my birthday.

Ryan and Paul knew my birthday was coming up, and at first did not understand my apprehension about going out on my birthday. "Don't worry. It's custom -- but you don't *have* to do it," Ryan explained.

"Oh," I said, feeling quite relieved.

They arranged to pick me up on Friday night and take me out. Rather than the typical sports bar where we went and watched footy (or rugby), they said they had a different place in mind.

The first thing that struck me when we walked into this place called Connections was the drag queens. I asked Paul, "Is this a gay bar?"

"Yes, it's a gay bar. But, in Australia, it's not like America. Both straights and gays go to the gay bars. Straight people come here because they love the drag shows," Ryan replied.

Still, as I looked around, this bar seemed to be about 85% men. And some of the women -- I wasn't entirely sure they were women.

Perhaps I hadn't thought far enough ahead in this chess game. I had assumed that Ryan and Paul just had "friendly interests" in me. Why did they bring me to a gay bar?

So, we walk up to the bar. Ryan greets the bartender, who appears to know him. "Guess what, it's our mate, James's birthday," Ryan says.

"Oh, so a round on you, eh?" the bartender says, looking directly at me.

"No, no. I can't," I say, turning to my two friends.

"But, you have to. It's your birthday," says the bartender.

"I can't," I reply, beginning to think how miserable my 21st birthday was becoming.

Ryan turns to the bartender and says, "I guess we have to invoke the exception alternative for James."

"Alternative exception?" I ask.

"On your birthday," the bartender says, "you have one of two options. Either you shout a round for the bar -- or you strip to your birthday suit!"

"Wait -- what?" I stammer.

Ryan replies, "Yes, those are the two options."

"Oh shit!" I think to myself. I look around the bar. There's probably 150 to 200 people. But fortunately, I don't know any of these people...well, except for Ryan and Paul. I didn't have anywhere near enough cash on me to buy a round for the whole bar. It was apparent I had no other choice.

I took off my shirt.

"Wait," the bartender said, "You're stripping?"

"Yes," I replied meekly.

The bartender then turned around and reached up and rang a bell. "Birthday boy in the house!" he screams.

Oh man, this was way more attention than I had expected. Now it seemed like all 200 people were looking at me. Although, I guess at first, they were scanning the bar trying to figure out whose birthday it was. But, I presume that became apparent as I started taking off my shirt.

"Take it off. Take if off!" a few guys started chanting from a nearby table.

I can't say that I gave a seductive strip show by any means. Instead, it was really more of a 'get this done as fast as possible'. I unbuttoned my shorts, and pushed my shorts and underwear down. I was wearing flip-flops, and thus it was rather easy to step out of my shorts and underwear. I put my clothes on the barstool next to me.

I noticed Paul pick up my clothes and hand them over the bar to the bartender. For my safekeeping, I presumed, so that no one would steal them.

Not even Ryan's giving Paul a high-five made me realize that in fact, *they* were stealing them.

So, at that point, my hopes for my 21st birthday became 'sit at this bar, with my back to everyone, and drink until it's over.'

However, Ryan and Paul would have none of that. First, they insisted we play a game of darts. I couldn't help but feel that the patrons at the bar were taking more than the typical level of interest in an 'USA vs Australia' game of bar darts.

Then, they insisted we should dance. At first, it was line dancing, and I managed to hide near the middle of the floor. For some reason, though, the 1 or 2 lines of people in front of me would seem to fall apart as the song continued, and I found myself in the front line as we 'boot scootin' boogied' on the dance floor.

Ryan asked me what my favorite song was, and I replied, "It's Not Right, it's OK" (Whitney Houston).

Ryan went to the DJ and made a request. Next thing I know, "my" song is playing. Paul points to a box (a stage/platform) and tells me to hop up. "No, no. I can't," I protest. But, Ryan and Paul each grab me under one armpit and hoist me onto the stage. I can't help it; it's my favorite song. I danced.

For some reason, whoever was the lighting/stage manner at the club, instead of rotating the light around the dance floor like I had usually seen done, was instead shining the light directly at my box. It was kinda blinding, to be honest.

Then the unexpected happened. Well, I guess it shouldn't have been too unexpected. When I used to dance alone, by myself, naked in front of the mirror at home, as I would sway from side to side, my dick would become longer and longer, until it became hard.

Whitney was doing it to me again. The beat was too catchy. And I could tell that as my penis was flopping around, I had reached the 'point of no return'. As much as I was trying to mentally stop it, the floodgates had been released and inflation was a one-way proposition at this point. By the time the song ended, I was pointing nearly straight up (like 11pm on a compass dial).

I jumped off the stage, and Ryan and Paul caught me. Each one managed to catch an arm. At that moment, a young man walked up and asked if he could take a photo of the three of us. I started to say "N...", but Ryan had already said "Yes" to the guy. Paul was on my left; Ryan was on my right. The way I had landed, I had wound up with one hand on each of their shoulders. As I tried to move my hands to cover my privates, Ryan and Paul each gripped one of my arms pinning it to the back of their shoulders. "Oh my god," I thought to myself, "This stranger is taking a picture of me completely naked."

Then, Paul pulls his phone out of his left pocket and hands it to the stranger. "Can you take one with my phone, please?"

"No way!" I thought to myself. It was one thing if it were a stranger, but this is a person I know. These two guys -- my classmates -- are going to have photos of me completely naked. But, in a couple instants, it was over, and the phone was back in Paul's pocket.

I don't remember much more of that night. I know there were a few more times that guys walked up to me, or more often to Paul and Ryan, and asked them if they could take a picture of me. At that point, I had become numb to it. The alcohol had loosened me up a bit. "What, you've never seen an American dick?" I teased one guy as he stood taking photos of me.

When the night was finally over, I walked up to the bar and the bartender handed me my clothes. A young man sitting at the bar asked me, "In America, is it a tradition that a guy strips naked in a bar on his birthday?"

"No, not in America; it's not," I replied.

"Then why did you do it?" he asks me.

"Because it's a custom in Australia," I reply.

"No, it's not," the young man says.

And then I notice that Ryan, Paul, and the bartender have the biggest, shit-eating grin on their faces that I have ever seen in my life.

[mikerickson]

Lifting my self-imposed embargo because I'm weird and don't like posting on social media when I'm on vacation.

I'm at a point in my life where I can financially justify at least one international vacation a year and figured I'd finally cross off the Great White North from the bucket list. I'd never been and Andrew hadn't been back in a very long time despite having dual citizenship. Anyways, just got back, and a bullet-point breakdown of the highlights is after the cut:

I wish every international flight was under two hours; EWR to YQB was almost comically fast.

Had my first French conversation with the very nice lady at the car rental counter for about ten minutes. She complemented my pronunciation and grammar, and wished me luck on the trip. Every French interaction after this point was a linguistic battle for my life that I lost (Toutes les Québecois parlent trop vite pour moi).

We had some time to kill before the hotel check-in so we went to a mall in the suburbs just so we'd have a food court with some options. Turns out shopping malls are not only alive and well but fucking thriving in Canada. I haven't seen a mall that packed with people outside of December since the nineties.

Quebec City was very dense with old architecture which made it feel very European. It was also apparently built on a fucking cliff with streets at 60 degree inclines, which also felt very European.

Took a tour of the Quebec Parliament building (beautiful structure), and apparently they used to be bicameral, but voted to abolish their Senate in the 60's and they were the last Canadian province to do so. What a concept.

It's one thing to know on paper that Canada has about 1/8th of the population of the US, but I was not prepared for just how empty the countryside felt. For someone like me, living in the northeast my whole life, the idea that cities in close proximity to each other not having continuous stretches of suburbs and other smaller cities connecting them was completely foreign.

On the highways I kept thinking I was speeding because I'd look down at the dashboard and see the number "100", but 100 km/h is only like 62 mph, which is nothing.

Similarly, I kept getting sticker shock every time I spent money, and kept having to remind myself that $1 CAD was like $0.73 USD while we were there.

It was really cool to see that the complex for the 1976 Montreal Olympics is still maintained and actively used (we stumbled upon a skateboarding competition and I did not feel cool enough to be in that crowd). Sometimes you hear horror stories about Olympic villages bankrupting cities and falling into disuse afterwards, but that's definitely not the case here.

Montreal is apparently known for their local bagel culture, but their bagels have enormous holes in the middle of them, so you have less cross-sectional area for spreads and they don't really work for sandwiches. My faith in NJ/NY bagel superiority remains intact.

Every city we went to had dedicated bike lane infrastructure and young families with kids, but Montreal definitely had the most of both. Tons of parks, too. Simultaneously felt like a larger and smaller city than I was expecting.

Poutine is okay, but I wasn't prepared for the cheese to squeak when you bite into it. Very odd sensation.

The main Parliament building for the federal government in Ottawa (Centre Block) is stunning, but closed; apparently it's been under renovation since 2019 and isn't expected to be reopened until 2032! In the meantime, we took a tour of where the lower House of Commons is currently meeting. We learned that their electoral districts are routinely re-drafted by a non-partisan committee and that they occasionally add new seats to the legislature to account for changes in population. I had to seethe jealously in silence for the rest of the tour.

Also toured their Supreme Court building (way more Art Deco than I was expecting). We learned that there's currently a vacancy because a Justice recently retired because they're required to step down when they turn 75. I had to seethe jealously in silence for the rest of the tour.

Every single city had automatic/self-serve parking garages where you didn't have to interact with a human (which I was very thankful for), but in Ottawa they have this little jingle that the machine sings at you when you take your ticket, which I found very amusing.

On the drive to Toronto we took a quick detour into the Thousand Islands (yes, like the salad dressing) and visited Boldt Castle, which is technically in New York state. After seeing it in practice, the idea of living on your own private island is more appealing than ever.

Toronto feels like an exercise in what happens when a nation's largest city is allowed to grow without being hemmed in by ridiculous geography. As someone who grew up in NYC, this is another concept foreign to me. The GPS did get very tripped up navigating a particularly gnarly interchange however.

Toured the Ontario Legislative Assembly (yet another beautiful building). At this point we were really good at asking tour guides stuff like, "so if happens, do you guys have a plan?" To which they would reply, "well, no, but let's just hope that never happens!"

I now understand why the Great Lakes are effectively freshwater inland seas; you really cannot see the other shore, and Lake Ontario isn't even the biggest one!

YYC to EWR was under an hour. That's definitely going to spoil me for future trips going forward.

[rainbowchewynuggets]

IT'S DONE IT'S DONE IT'S DONE IT'S DONE

I've been grinding away at this for months. I can't wait for people to see it. This project turned out to have a lot of gears behind it, so check out the artist statement below!

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

I love this song. The first time I heard it, I already began picturing a story where a woman stumbled upon a gathering of birds in the forest and became so enthralled by their song that she partied with them until she became a bird, herself. It turns out that isn’t too far off from the singer, Yma Sumac’s, first experiences learning to sing. She would imitate the animals near her home in the hills of the Andes mountains as a very young kid, developing a vocal range that would make her famous later on.

From there, I fell into a montage of research on her life and the Peruvian festival music that defined her early career, as well as the complicated story of the exotica music she became most known for in the United States. I followed that up with a month-long dive into northwest Peruvian culture, mythology, ornithology, flora, and topographical studies. Then, I blacked out somewhere during the drawing phase, and now I’m here.

While I really value what I’ve learned while doing this project, I think it’s important to note that I did it all as an amateur researcher and a foreigner to the subject. I decided it would be a little conceited to try to make a totally accurate depiction of a traditional Peruvian festival, so I instead focused on referencing the regional variation of these traditions. Costumes and music have their own specific designs and textures depending on the area, and dances and festivities reflect local history. Yet, it all shares the same themes of celebrating prosperity and surviving hardship. Common motifs and characters reflect a shared heritage and cultural identity that coexists with individuality. It’s all just very cool to me.

So I asked myself, what if these birds had their own version of these traditions? What would a bird sing a folk song about? What would be new and cool to Yma, but still familiar enough that she could join in? (I got lucky, since Peruvian festival culture is already very reverent of birds and feather patterns.)

What I ended up with pulled a lot from the Carnaval de Cajamarca, which originated in the next town over from Yma’s childhood home of Ichocán. It also references these dances, among others:

Huaylarsh - Los Emplumados - Marinera - Tondero - White Dance / Los Chunchos

It’s also important to know that I took a lot of creative liberties with my research to pull the story together. I hope I haven’t used any elements in a harmful or insensitive way–and if I have, I’d like to know so that I can apologize. (I also missed out on some cool stuff, like the White Dance always having shaker beads on the legs.) I highly encourage you to have a look at some of the sources I did, and to look further if you’re interested. I found it all very enlightening, and I hope you will too.

Yma’s wikipedia, which seems like a mostly accurate overview based on other sources

Her official website, curated by a fan and friend

A segment on NPR about her musical career

The interview I got the opening from

The ornithology archive that saved my ass

I’d like to work on uploading all the frames as an image reel somewhere so they can be looked at individually. Might take a while, though.

Thanks for watching!

(To those using a screen reader, the video description follows this message. I'd like to apologize for putting the description as the last thing on the post. Not only is it extremely long, but this seemed to be the rare instance where the description would benefit from the context of the post's commentary before being read itself. I wrote and formatted this description in a way that I hoped would apply to aid various disabilities that impede enjoying music videos, and I am very interested in getting feedback.)

DESCRIPTION

[The following is presented as an animatic (a series of still images edited into a video) set to music. The art is drawn with condensed yet fuzzy pastel-like linework and full color. The song used is “Chuncho” by Yma Sumac. The song was composed to imitate the various sounds of tropical birds and animals. It has no lyrics, at least in a traditional sense. I, the describer, have tried my best to translate the especially abstract nature of this song into language that can be interpreted through text. Please use the best of your imagination to fill in the rest. An audio description will always refer to the visual description that follows it.

Audio: A male interviewer asks, “Since you are referred to the bird who became a woman in your native Peru, Ms. Sumac, may we hear your exotic voice?”

Visuals: A title card appears with gold lettering on a black background. It reads one word: Chuncho. The word is depicted as if it were carved into a flat surface with loose individual strokes.

Audio: A woman answers, “I will try to imitate the birds, as I did in my earliest years in the mountains of Peru.”

Visuals: Credits appear, also in gold text: Sung by Yma Sumac (Zoila Augusta Emperatriz Chàvarri del Castillo. Drawn by Carlie Hughes (rainbowchewynuggets).

Audio: The music begins with the steady four-note strumming of a guitar, which will continue throughout the song. Then, it is accompanied by low ragged notes from a heavy woodwind instrument.

Visuals: A green cicada flicks its wings as it rests on a plant with jagged leaves and a little white flower growing from the middle. Beetles of green, red, and yellow crawl around on trees and ferns among puffy yellow blooms. Yellow humpback beetles huddle together on a cold stone surface as mothlike butterflies cling to hanging purple-grey moss in the background. A cluster of butterflies of black, green, blue, orange, purple, and red flare their wings along stems and vines. A line of spiny cocoons hang from a vine leading up the center of the group.

Audio: A vocalist, the same woman as before, begins to sing in vocables. Her first notes are short, round, and bubbly, like the chirping of a small bird. The lilt of a flute follows.

(“B-bm, bui-bui-buiii…”)

Visuals: A small village sits on the side of a forested and scrub-covered mountain at night. Buildings twinkle with yellow and blue window light through the darkness. At the edge of the forest, a tall lean woman appears with warm orange skin, long black hair, a simple green dress cinched at the waist with blue trim on the neck, hem, wrist, and waist, and a powder blue shawl tied at the chest. She sneaks away from the village into the temperate tropical forest, glancing back to make sure hasn’t been followed. She grows more at ease as she leaves the buildings behind and strides between bushes, deeper into the trees. She passes a flowering plant with orange petals. Its bulbs are held aloft on long, long stems.

Audio: The vocalist sings in elongated threads of notes, wavering in a minor key in a mischievous way.

(“Whu, hu-uuuu…”)

Visuals: The woman grazes her fingers along a bush with little black berries and white spiky flowers. Her hand passes up and down with the shape of the bush, like the rise and fall of an ocean wave. She walks uphill, past pink clover and increasingly frequent stones.

Audio: The vocalist clicks and rolls her tongue with her notes, like drops of water splashing across stones.

(“Dlu, dlu-dlu-dlu-dlu-buiii…”)

Visuals: A voice suddenly gets her attention. The voice passes by as a green line with wide wave forms. The woman follows it. She passes through a stone forest–dense moss-covered rock formations that reach up toward the sky. The ground below is streaked with snake trails. The line of song is now yellow. It leads her forward along a trail through the rocks. She climbs a more precarious formation of boulders, through dense shrubbery and a dramatic rocky landscape. As the voice shifts redder, her colors shift pinker. Even the environment’s colors are shifting to pinks and blues. She climbs a hill, past tall spindly trees and a nearly vertical mountainside. The pink line of song leads her still upward.

Audio: The vocalist belts out the deep throaty call of a tropical bird trying to be heard far and wide. The notes increase in frequency, then widen into a whoop that softens to a murmur. The flute follows her with a few short forceful notes.

(“Ah, bya bya bya-bya-bya-bya-bya-byaaa, whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa-wi, wa-wa-wa wiii…”)

Visuals: When the woman reaches the top of the hill, a light shines up at her from the other side, returning her original colors. Below, she sees a gathering of human-sized bird people celebrating on a leafy platform. They’re dancing in different sized circles around a tree at the center. Rainbow colored ribbons of different lengths have been tied to the branches of the tree and hang down to form the silhouette of a condor. More ribbons and colorful bulbs hang from the leaves above. The line of song (now light blue) travels in a circle around the tree trunk. The camera zooms in, revealing details of the birds and their costumes. The birds are pigeons, hawks, cuckoos, seedbirds, and corvids. They’re all dressed in colorful hats, vests, slacks, and dresses with patterns that reflect those of their feathers. A circle of spotted woodpeckers closest to the trunk wear purple gowns and party hats. The party’s singing expands the blue circle of light. A wider circle of yellow, green, and white birds sit and watch the celebration from the edges of the platform. As a line of bright manakin birds zip by with their hands clasped together, the woman approaches from a nearby branch. She’s enticed by the party and joins the dance, clasping hands with a green parrot and leading the line with a broad smile on her face.

Audio: The vocalist makes a quick sudden series of escalating notes, then makes a hard sound with her teeth and returns to a low whoop. The flute echoes her.

(Ba-bana-baba-cht!,  waw waw waw waw waw waw waw wiii…”)

Visuals: The birds switch to individual dances. A short red woodpecker and a tan long-necked bird with ribbons in her hair dance and sing together, their lines of song intertwining. The woman and three pigeons in red and black dresses stomp their heels in a quartet dance. She follows their steps flawlessly, familiar with the type of dance. When they begin to sing and whistle, she joins them–though her voice isn’t as strong as theirs and her line of song is thin and brittle.

Audio: The vocalist makes a low growl, at first imperceptible, that grows to a steady rumble. The flute follows.

(“Rhhh…, rhh, rhh rhhh…”)

Visuals: Then, the lights darken and redden. The woman stops to notice all the other birds heading to the back of the platform. They climb and flutter up to sit in fruit-bearing branches that grow just beyond. The woman finds herself a spot and picks a piece of fruit to eat. She takes a bite as a show begins. A band of various birds wearing ponchos and cloth hats sit down by the show platform. They play their instruments (flute, guitars and a drum) and count in the performance.

Audio: The vocalist makes more short bubbly chirps. They grow higher in small strings of notes until the phrase ends with a low long note.

(“Bom-bom, t-bom-bom-bom, mbom-bom wiii…”)

Visuals: Five owls appear, bathed in magenta spotlight before the center tree trunk. All of them have their yellow-spotted wings wrapped to mostly cover their black and gold-trimmed dresses. The four owls on the sides are short and red, while the one in the center is tall and bright purple. As all five begin to sing a golden song, they operatically open their wings and extend their feathers. As the light darkens to violet, the black and gold patterns in the folds of their wings leap out as if exposed to blacklight. They extend their arms upward and then double over to kneel on the stage, fully splaying their wings in a dramatic display. The woman watching is transfixed.

Audio: The vocalist rolls a noise from the back of her throat. Once, twice, three times–before hitching the roll up and down and letting it trail off. The flute makes a low hollow arc of a note.

(“Ghhh, ghhh, ghh gh-gh-gheee…”)

Visuals: Cut to the next performance. Two teams of blackbirds with long waving feathers compete, standing on each other’s shoulders to form two pyramids. The one at the top of each team lunges forward to try to strike the other with a long stick, propelled by their team. Their feathers glow with yellow light from above. The team on the left—with orange vests and red sashes—strikes first, only nearly missing. They gloat as the lime vest and green sash team on the right recoils and protests. Then, it’s the green team’s turn to take a confident lunge, forcing the red to frantically pull back in time to dodge. On the next strike, the red team buries the stick in the top of the enemy pyramid (actually tucked under the green leader’s arm). The victim feigns a mortal wound, and the entire team flies away. The red team poses, victorious. The red leader gets down to the floor to greet the widow of the green team, wearing a green dress. She peers at him from behind a silky black wing. As soon as he lands, she whacks him over the head with her own concealed stick. He is surprised. She is unamused.

Audio: The vocalist lets out a ghostly wail that wavers wildly like an eerie wind, higher and higher. A shaker instrument rumbles beneath her voice.

(“Woaaa… woaaa… woaa–”)

Visuals: Next, it’s dark. Three colorful birds in masks and costumes tread the air at an angle on the left side of the screen against a blue and green background. There’s a yellow spiky one, representing lightning. A blue round-feathered one, representing rain. And a spade-feathered green one, representing trees. Long beaded threads tied to their wings and tails wave and tangle across the screen as a group of five hummingbirds in shades of red struggle to survive the “storm” raging around them. The colored ribbons of the central tree are muted and flutter with the power of the wind. Two other birds hug the trunk, nearly out of sight. There’s a prop on the floor to the right made to look like a stone alcove, where more hummingbirds are hiding. The storm bringer birds beat their wings hard, casting the strings of lightning, water, and leaf shaped beads in huge chaotic waves. The five hummingbirds in vests and dresses wince and tumble against the wind, flying together in a tight circle. The threads crisscross behind them, an overwhelming force on the tiny birds’ scale. A red line of song floats up to reach them, guiding them down to the nest.

Audio: When her wail is at its highest, the vocalist pushes it further into the voice of a shrill songbird. The note hangs high in the air, then takes a few steps down and up. The segment ends with the sudden interjection of the low round voice–as if in surprise–and a trailing mumble.

(“Haaa, aa-aa aa-aa aa-aa, hoa? Ah, bw-huh…”)

Visuals: Those in the stone nest finish singing and reunite with the others, pulling them down to safety. A blackbird hiding behind the trunk spreads its wings, sitting on the shoulders of a brown woodpecker. The blackbird’s vest and wingspan are covered in yellow, signaling the coming of daylight. The storm birds retreat and sit still on a nearby branch. The wind is suddenly gone.

Audio: The guitar plays alone.

Visuals: After the stage performances, the audience members move back to the platform. They’re gathered off to the far left side of the central tree trunk, standing in a circle around a single figure. The light of the gathering area is deep plum-purple in far off areas and warm dull pink over the crowd. The empty space around the single dancer is salmon red, and the figure herself is blue.

Audio: The vocalist perfectly mimics the sound of a flutter, of delicate waving in the wind.

(“W-w-w-w-w-w-w”)

Visuals: The camera zooms in on her hand as it flits a pink handkerchief in the air.

Audio: The vocalist belts a pair of bold staunch vocables. The second note is held for several seconds before fading out.

(“Kyen, kyen…”)

Visuals: The camera pulls back to reveal the rest of her. She’s a blue eagle with wings that grade from red at the arms to pink to blue at the wingtips in a wavy pattern. Her smiling beak is bright pink. Her dress is royal blue with reddish-pink trimmed ruffles on the hem of the skirt, waist frill, neck frill, and the flower decoration on the side of her head. She stands with the hem of her dress in one hand and the handkerchief extended in the other in an open invitation to dance. A pale pink spotlight frames her head and shoulders against the darkness, and a dark pink line of song passes behind her. Her partner, an eagle of the same coloration with a blue vest and pants, pink shirt, pale orange sash, a blue hat in one hand, and a pink hanky of his own raised in the other, is calling to her. He puts his hands behind his back and takes high steps toward her. When the two are close, they turn and walk parallel to each other in a slow circle. The male’s back is to his partner. He looks at her over his shoulder with a smile and abruptly splays his feathers to be cute. There’s a layer of pink under his outer coat. She grins, entertained.

Audio: The vocalist repeats the two vocables, twisting the end of the second up into a high wavering trill that eventually soothes and disappears.

(“Kyen, kye–eee, ee, eee, ee…”)

Visuals: The two turn to face each other, circling tighter and tighter in unified song until they’re face to face, looking deep into each other’s eyes. With another turn, they’ve passed by each other and out of sight.

Audio: The vocalist makes a whisper, a ghost of the two vocables. Then, a few quick whistles, barely loud enough to hear.

(“Hyo, hyo”)

Visuals: The woman, who has been captivated by the dance, suddenly notices that the crowd has dispersed around her. Partners are walking off in all directions, leaving her alone. The dance is over.

Audio: The guitar picks up, getting faster and louder for a bit.

Visuals: The woman walks alone in the blue night air along a tangle of tree branches that form a pathway. She walks with her hands behind her back, her face looking preoccupied and a little disappointed. Bushels of soft leaves pass by in the background.

Audio: A high, light pleasant note from the vocalist overtakes the guitar. It grows until it fills the soundscape.

(“Aaa…”)

Visuals: An orange song reaches her from the direction she came, and she stops. When she turns, she sees a blue swift standing on the branch path, far behind her in an opening in the trees. The underside of his feathers is dingy orange, and he’s wearing a black vest, white pants, a rusty red sash around his waist, a bright green kerchief around his neck, and an orange rectangular accessory tied around his neck like a necklace. His face is obscured by a white hat with an orange band. He bows low with a hand on the hat. The hat comes off, revealing inviting eyes and a smiling orange beak. The woman grins and accepts the invitation with determination.

Audio: The vocalist draws long high vocables that resemble a wail. They trail off with a low note.

(“Whoa whoaaa…”)

Visuals: She and the swift untie the fabric around their necks and step toward each other as the line of song forms a ring above them. The woman holds the ends of the shawl in her hands and her hands at her hips with the body of the shawl hanging behind her waist. The bird holds his kerchief out in one hand with the hat in the other, held behind his back. He takes measured winding steps along the branches. The woman mirrors his steps, then pushes off of the main path and lands on an outcropping branch.

Audio: The vocalist’s song wavers back up and demurely bobs up and down, intertwined with tweeting from the flute.

(“Hoa…  ohee…”)

Visuals: Her voice, seafoam green and a little stronger than before, trails behind her. She darts back onto the main branch and ducks behind the bird, then circles around to face him, the two only a few feet apart. They exchange steps pushing the other forward and back and flicking their garments in time with their movements. The woman’s voice grows stronger, nearly matching his. The bird quickly catches up as she moves backward, dancing beside her. The two dancers then leap from the main branch and fall down into the rocky forest below, passing by grassy plateaus and vines creeping through stone. Their song follows all the way down. They leap across boulders in the moonlight, side by side. The swift suddenly stops and folds his kerchief around the center of the shawl, hitching the two together. 

Audio: The vocalist belts a complex series of syllables that mimic the heavy majestic cawing of a large bird or hawk. The flute makes itself known a little as the voice fades out.

(“Hlau-lau-lau hau-au-wau-wa-wiii…”)

Visuals: The woman, at the receiving end of the momentum, is swung wide and lets out a vibrant complex line of song that could match any bird’s. The two pull closer to each other and end their song on a low steady note. Then, they bow to each other as the camera pulls back. They’re standing on a rock that rises above a basin of  water among huge formations of rock. Pairs of birds dance all around them in the shallows.

Audio: The guitar takes over for a bit.

Visuals: The camera cuts to an upward view of a varied group of birds sitting in branches, staring downward with interest. The light from the moon coming down through a break in the trees above is now cool green. The light coming up from where the birds are looking is orange-red. 

Audio: The vocalist lets out the aggressive growling of a cat.

(“U-wau, wau-wau-wau-wau”)

Visuals: Below, the woman is dancing in a line with three reddish woodpeckers in a greenish clearing in the trees. They wear intricately detailed dresses in different combinations of bright green, yellow, red, and black with geometric and floral embroidery. The dresses are cinched at the waist with a piece of fabric covered in colored bands. Their heads are covered in scarves with the same colors and patterns. They sing and step aggressively toward the left of the screen. At the other side of the clearing, a line of four red and white faced woodpeckers with green beaks and wings face right. They wear bright green hats, kerchiefs, and sashes, yellow and black striped vests, and dark red pants with yellow tassels at the ankles. Their black shoes tap against the ground as they make quick little dance steps and flutter yellow handkerchiefs. They hold onto the brims of their hats and then lean down with a flourish of their arms, exposing the red crests of their heads sticking up underneath. The dance then changes formation. The girls dance in a line to the left as the boys step in a line to the right. 

Audio: The growl hushes down to a wavering whisper, like wings beating in the dark.

(“Tchwahh-cwah-cwah-cwah-cwah-cwah-cwah-cwah…”)

Visuals: Out on a cliff by a waterfall, the scene is bathed in cyan. The line of dancers–alternating male, female, male, female–do a hopping dance from partners on the left to those on the right and back again as they move along the cliff, passing behind the waterfall as it disappears into the greenery in the foreground.

Audio: The guitar asserts itself again.

Visuals: Everything is suddenly red. A guitarist in a blue poncho and a red neck sash frets the neck of a guitar with a brown feathered hand. Rainbow ribbons are tied to the headstock. A deep orange song emanates from the strings.

Audio: The vocalist quickly accompanies the guitar with a harmonized version of the growl that revs up climatically, taking steps up the scale until it’s at its absolute height.

(“U-wa-wa ee-ee eh-oh! Oh-oh-oh-ohh!”)

Visuals: A congress of the partygoing birds stand in lines facing each other, all wearing blue outfits with red kerchiefs with rainbow tassels on them. The group jumps up and down in unison as part of a dance. The party breaks into smaller dances, and the woman dances by herself. She’s wearing a green skirt and flowy purple top with red underskirt, waist cinch, and scarf. Rainbow tassels are attached to the overskirt, and they swish with her movements. Beside her are a hawk woman and a pair of long billed bird men dancing in a circle with their ankles locked. A pair of red birds with white streaks on their wings suddenly hoist the woman into the air, as other birds are hoisted in the distance. As she’s held aloft, she sings and spreads her arms, revealing more tassels on her top, resembling wings. Her song is immense and beautiful. The camera focuses on one of the hoisted birds in the background, who has executed a handstand with the person who threw them. The blackbird’s feathers are all sorts of bright colors. The song passes by behind him. The excitement of the party disguises the presence of a looming pair of yellow slitted eyes peering out from a dark spot between the leaves nearby. A trio of purple pigeons dancing in a line with twigs and colored strings in their hands dip and weave together. The one in front balks, noticing the threat at last.

Audio: The high energy of the music suddenly cuts out. The shrill call of a small bird climbs up out of the silence.

(“Eee…”)

Visuals: A striped short legged pampas cat pounces into the center of the dance field. It misses the birds, but the illusion is shattered. The bird people are just birds again. They fly in a frenzy up through the trees to the safety of the early morning sky. The hilltop erupts with silhouettes of wings.

Audio: When the small bird’s call is at its highest, it tumbles back down and transforms into a low disquieting wail. The guitar re-enters.

(“Ee-ee-ee-ah-ahh ahh oohhh…”)

Visuals: The pampas cat has retreated into the dim tawny forest. It stands on a bent tree branch among bushes and hanging moss and stares into the camera with glowing yellow pupils. A tiny rodent scurries by and into a bush. The cat notices and darts after it. Nearby, dozens of bats hang from the underside of a rock formation that extends over a field of berry bushes. Their sleepy heads are tucked into their folded wings. A straggler flaps up to join the rest as the sun continues to rise. Elsewhere, a hive with wasp-like insects resting on the outside hangs over a rock. Sunlight gleams over the scene from a break in the trees in the background. A large brown mouse climbs up on the rock, backlit by the sun. It grabs a wasp in its teeth and leaves before the rest of the hive can wake up.

Audio: The vocalist makes a low steady murmur. A couple shakes from the shaker instrument follow.

(“Hoo…”)

Visuals: A colony of green and brown frogs with purple eye ridges, yellow faces, and orange bellies are asleep on dewy ridges of rock. A green cicada hangs out on a leaf off to the top left corner. The mouse jumps down through their resting spot, waking them all up. The frogs croak a green song as the cicada hangs on for dear life on the swinging leaf. The wind moans through the crevices of another stone forest. The little flowering shrubs that grow on the rocks bristle in the breeze. A variety of green, yellow, and blue lizards poke their heads out of the rocks, into the morning light.

Audio: The vocalist repeats the murmur. The flute follows this time.

(“Hoo…”)

Visuals: The camera pulls back to view the entire rock formation. The still rising sun shines only on the top half of right-facing stones. Long spindly tree trunks grow from the top left, out of sight. Long grass waves on the ground below. An alpaca-like vicuña raises its head from the long grass, facing the light. In the branches of the trees above, various birds perch facing left.

Audio: The vocalist makes a mysterious sound that begins as a harsh sound between her teeth and ends as a whisper. It echoes in the background.

(“Chwah-ah…”)

Visuals: The camera turns back to the village. Golden light casts diagonally across the brown roofs and tan buildings. The silhouette of a small bird flies toward the center of town.

Audio: The vocalist makes the sound again, then pulls the whisper up into a harsh repeated rasp from the back of her throat.

(“Chwah-ah qwah-qw-qw-qw-qw-qwah-qwah-qwah”)

Visuals: Down in between the one-story houses, the bird flutters down. Long shadows lay across a passage leading toward a door on the side of a building. We see the shadow of the woman land in the soft dirt path where the bird’s would have. She heads toward the door at a walking pace.

Audio: The call returns to a whisper. The vocalist clicks her throat in a short series of hollow sounds, nearly like the creaking of wood.

(“Qwk-qwk-qwk-qwk-qwk, qwk qwk qwk qwk”)

Visuals: As she opens the door to enter the purple interior light of the house, we see that she’s back in her green dress, but now her shawl is red. The sun glints in her hair. Before she goes inside, she looks back and winks at the camera with a smile. Then, she slowly pulls the door behind her until it’s shut.

Audio: The vocalist lets out her breath entirely as the accompanying music trickles into silence.

(“Haaa…”)

Visuals: The screen is black for a few seconds.

Audio: The high whistling call of a green manakin can be heard over the rustling of forest trees. The call’s tone is raised at the end, like it’s asking a question.

(“Twee?… Twee?… Twee?… Twee?”)

Visuals: The end card appears. Yellow and green lettering and a border lay on a black background. The text reads: Yma Sumac. Peruvian soprano and composer. October 13th 1922 until November 1st 2008. Biographical and reference info in description. Chuncho, 1953. Written by Moises Vivanco. Capitol Records, Universal Music Publishing Group. Carlie Hughes. Tumblr @rainbowchewynuggets. www.carliehughes.com. End ID]

INDEX

[nicollekidman]

Hi Abby, I am uncomfortable saying this off anon for a variety of reasons, please do not think one of them is cowardice. I have followed you for years and years. I’ve come to love so much media because of you and always appreciate your takes. I have chosen to unfollow you now. I am a Jewish person who has been so scared and upset about what the state of Israel is doing to Palestinians and am disgusted by the war crimes committed by Israel. At the same time, I have numerous Israeli friends and family members who have been murdered by Hamas in the last few weeks. Civilians visiting for educational and cultural exchange programs, horrifically killed. Your recently reblogged informational post about how Hamas is not a terrorist organization was deeply upsetting. This may not matter at all to you, but I ask that you consider empathy to all people involved in this issue. Decolonization is important. My friends and family are dead. These two facts can coexist. Just wanted to share this with you because I know many people see your blog and are affected by the information you share.

probably shouldn’t answer this at 1am and you’ve already unfollowed so you probably won’t even see this but i just want to ask you why my sharing resources and information about the reality of hamas and it’s current functioning within gaza / its original charter immediately made you think that i don’t care about loss of human life. there was not a single phrase in that post that minimized victims of the october attack, in fact, not a single phrase in that post took a stance on anything, it was purely informational. frankly, i think it was so measured to dissuade from reactions exactly like this, and if i had written it myself, i would’ve done a worse job.

and if you had been able to push past your knee jerk reaction to reading “they are not a terrorist organization” you would recognize that clarifying language and correcting misconceptions is one of the most important things we can do, both going forward in ending this genocide and looking back on how and why lives have been lost in both israel and palestine.

i have personal empathy and grief for your situation, and i’m so sorry you have suffered loss amongst your community and loved ones. but your loss does not form a shield behind which you are allowed to hide from truth, or force other people to close their mouths when trying to educate themselves and others. we are currently witnessing ongoing mass death, us-backed genocide, and a hugely successful (in the west) propaganda campaign to make this endeavor as Unknowable as possible, especially to those who have never looked into the reality of life in the region. grounding ourselves in recent history, learning more about words and labels that are thrown around weekly, daily, hourly, SPECIFICALLY to justify and excuse the ongoing campaign of death israel has visited upon the palestinian people for decades…. that is the LEAST we are all responsible for. it is your duty, as someone who has lost friends and loved ones, and it is mine, as someone with eyes on their stupid blog, to make every concerted effort to understand and spread the truth, in context, to enrich our own activism and honor the dead.

saying “decolonization is important” while unfollowing me after years bc i shared information about what hamas is, is so empty and meaningless you might as well have not said it at all. thousands of people are actively and endlessly being murdered behind a smokescreen of Terrorism with the VERY SPECIFIC connotations that holds over the west and the US in particular… attempting to relay information that complicates and clarifies your exact knee jerk reaction is the entire point. i hope one day you are able to look a little closer and recognize that your personal hurt in seeing new information that makes you uncomfortable is not important in the scheme of what we are currently trying to prevent

[dapurinthos]

hey it’s out in new zealand, that’s my break and i’ve had this draft waiting for, like, two weeks.

some notes on the codenames (source x) that blood of eden uses for the lyctors

all of the blood of eden codenames for the lyctors are based on mythical weapons, the exception being source aegis (athena’s shield, sometimes featuring the gorgon’s head), but it does make sense upon reconsideration because gideon was not the person the codename was meant for, it was pyrrha, and what is a cavalier if not a protector of their necromancer? it makes much more sense for pyrrha to be the source aegis referred to as wake’s informant, especially since we learned that phyrra was the one who instigated the relationship, not gideon prime.

source piotra took me a moment because it’s a version of the name peter and i was just ??? about it because i was not exposed to anything to do with christian religion until i moved to newfoundland and had to start religious studies in the middle of fifth grade. however, there is a legendary sword that was used by the apostle peter, which is said by some to have been brought by joseph of arimathea to britain, at the same time the poznañ archcathedral (the oldest polish cathedral, settling why the name is piotra, the polish version of peter) displays the copy of the supposed blade itself, a roman gladius with a spaded end.

joyeuse for mercymorn—did blood of eden know her simply as the saint of joy first, given that mercymorn wanted their names to be forgotten and not used, and thus codenamed her after a sword containing the word ‘joy’? joyeuse itself is the legendary sword of charlemagne, the first holy roman emperor, and described in the song of roland. the blade used at the coronation of french kings is claimed to be joyeuse and has been altered over the centuries before being displayed in the louvre today.

cassiopeia continues the mythological swords theme by being named source gram after the sword of sigurd, known as gramr in old norse, which was used to slay a dragon in the volsunga saga. as for why? i’m going to go with the proto-indo-european serpent slaying myth to connect them, cassiopeia being the mother of andromeda who was staked out and left for the sea monster kētŏs (who is not a kraken, thank you very much for inserting that idea into popular culture, clash of the titans), who was also described as a sea serpent, given the similarities between serpents and dragons in greek myth.

now, as for cytherea, source chrysaor. i was confused because i kept looking at chrysaor the mythological person before smacking myself upside the head and recalling the faerie queene by edmund spenser where chrysaor is a sword wielded by sir artegall. sir artegall, the embodiment of justice, the champion of justice. and justice, to blood of eden, is ‘the vengeance of the ten billion,’ it is justice to ‘kill the emperor and burn his houses.’ in cytherea’s own words. (there is also demeter’s title khrusaôros, referring to the golden blades of wheat, and cytherea’s return to the first house is to harvest the seeds planted during the past ten thousand years, to cut down the heirs of the nine houses in the same way wheat is cut.)

[luminalunii97]

Hi, I love Persian/Iranian history and have been wanting to learn Persian for a while, would you happen to know any resources for this? Thanks a lot for all your posts btw!

Hello to you my dear. This is such a nice message. I, myself, am fascinated with different cultures and languages and if it was possible I would learn every language out there. Though I've never been asked to recommend sources for learning Persian. So it took me a while to gather this.

The first thing I thought about was persianpod101. I've used languagespod101 for two other languages and I've been happy with the course both times. So I'm assuming their Persian course is also good.

There's a language learning app called Ling. It has a long list of languages to pick from and Persian is one of them. The fun style is sort of like Duolingo. I've only used it to learn some basic grammer and words so far. And I like it.

I found a book that was recommended by an Iranian language school. The book is called "Farsi (Persian) for beginners". And it can be found in a big collection of language books I came upon in a tumblr post a couple of days ago. The archive contains a good number of Persian books. I attached the link to that.

There's a YouTube channel that has fun and interesting Persian lessons even if you are a complete beginner. It has a "learn Persian with stories" collection that could be fun.

But before you start learning Persian, here's a video guid about it. Note that there are different dialects/accents to Persian, the three main would be Tehran Farsi, Afghan Dari, and Tajikistan tajik. But if you're fluent in one, you can understand the others. It's kind of like the difference between English accents inside UK and also Australia, USA and Canada.

Good luck on your journey. And thanks for your kind words.

[idealspawn]

ive been away from tumblr for such a long time, afraid it would trigger me. ive been doing so well:) i moved to another city. back to where i lived for a year, a year prior to this one. i was able to join a programme that enables me to study in this university again for a year as like an exchange student(?)-ish thing. it feels amazing. ive reconnected with two(three-ish?) extremely dear people to me and ive found my love for knowledge again. my apartment is so nice too. i live near a train station but i can barely hear anything, and if i do, the sounds are actually comforting. i used to dislike trains, they made me anxious but starting this summer i grew to love them and now i regularly even prefer them. i live on the top floor so my ceiling and walls are slanted but it brings me such comfort, my room in my parents' house also has it like that. i have a second floor, well half of it. there is a built-in ladder staircase. it feels extremely comforting. ive had to fix, and still have to fix, many things here bc its a relatively cheap apartment but im fine with that. it actually makes me feel more at home when i can work on the apartment and make it my own. it feels more like home when everything isnt perfect either. the washing machine was disgustingly dirty and the air ventilation thing above the stove is also so fucking nasty but ill deal w it.. not my first time renting an apartment...... .. .. . the emotional aspects of this place are way more important. ive adopted plants too this time around. and a lot more intentionally, ive made in-depth sheets on how to properly care for them. i speak to them and kiss them every day. i know i will buy at leasr one more plant. so far i have an aloe vera plant, alocasia zebrina(MY DEAREST but also the most needy), a chinese money plant and an ivy. i want another ivy but a diff one. right now i have the one called wonder, it looks very friendly, very round. i didnt intend to get this one but they got my order wrong but i didnt have the heart to exchange it so i will just keep it and buy the other ivy as a friend to it. i am so fond of the one that has, i cant seem to find its proper name, but the one that has extremely slim and elongated and really sharp star-like leaves. i figured maybe the two contrasting ivy plants would even look better together than just one. so maybe the wrong order was a blessing in disguise. im using plants to learn unconditional love and acceptance because my family definitely didnt provide me with that skill.. :d.. did the same with my childhood cat, thats why she was so extremely dear to me. when noone else in my family loved me unconditionally, she did:). ive been really motivated to study and read a lot of my own extracurricular stuff too. ive gone to really interesting tours and public programmes about nature and culture and society. ive actually enjoyed being on my own and had the balls to show up to places alone, i used to never be able to do that. i always had to have someone with me but its really limiting as many people around me right now have colliding interests. im also so insanely proud of myself for speaking up in a seminar!!!!!! u have no idea. NO IDEA how hard that has been for me. to realize my insight has value and should take up time and space in a seminar. ive always come so close to speaking but then my heart has raced out of my chest and then the moment passed. but this time i actually spoke up, i took the initiative and i didnt only speak abt the strict topic that our seminar text provided for that time but i brought up my individual reading!! and a girl in the seminar told me i spoke well!!(i didnt, god i was so nervous i stumbled upon my words so much and avoided all eye contact) AND ALSO the professor leading the seminar told me my answer was good too :) im so happy. im growing so much.

[alatismeni-theitsa]

Hi Ive been reading your blog (is it called a blog I'm not sure anyway) for a while now and I have to just say well Thank You. I've learned so much about Greek Culture and Greek Mythology from you then from a lot of other (so called) Western experts.

I relate quite a bit to how you feel about the misrepresentation and disrespect that Greek culture and specifically mythology and folklore have faced. I myself have experienced it although no where nearly as much as you have.

I'm a Malaysian specifically a Malaysian Chinese diaspora so I didn't know much about my culture and traditions. But when learning about Greek Mythology it ignited an interest in me to learn about cultures, traditions and folklore from around the world including my own. Which lead to me stumbling upon some of the more unflattering takes on Chinese Mythology and it's figures. The Netflix Journey to The West basically whitewashed and changed the ideas, storylines, and culturally significant aspects of a variety of different characters and the book and folklore as a whole which infuriates me especially since Journey To The West is one of the most important literary works in Chinese culture and folklore. Which I also grew up learning about.

I'm a Christian although I feel no connection or care for the religion at all I only follow it or at least pretend I do because of my parents. I respect any who choose to follow it and the religion itself. But it isn't what I choose to follow.

I feel more of a connection and understanding with the old Greek religion and more and Ive been praying to the Olympians and other ancient Greek deities for a while now. I've been trying to approach it the same way I'd like a foreigner to approach my own culture and traditions and religion. I've no qualms with them following traditional Chinese deities as long as they're respectful and willing to learn.

I've been approaching Hellenistic Polytheism with that view and mindset in mind. And Im grateful to learn from your blog especially since you're Greek and I want to be respectful to your culture and traditions and since you grew up with and are from the culture itself have a much better understanding of it than most of the self dubbed experts who aren't from the culture itself and have no interest in respecting it or learning about it.

Your blog has helped me clear up my existing misconceptions and misunderstandings about Greek mythology and helped me learn how to be respectful of your culture while I practice the religion and learn more about it. And to avoid upsetting anyone.

In conclusion thank you and I hope you don't mind me learning about your culture and practice the religion.

Hello! Thank you for your patience as I took a while to get to this message. For asks, please know that I'm not ignoring you. I'm just drowning in errands and have minimal energy all the time (chronic illnesses are a bitch)

I appreciate this message so much and each time I see it in my inbox it brings me joy. You can see in my FAQ section that I, like the overwhelming majority of Greeks, take no issue with foreigners engaging in our culture and following our ancient religion.

My tag #ancient Greek religion and #greek tradition may provide you with more information on how the gods were and are viewed, and the continuation of ancient customs and religious views to this day.

It makes me so happy that someone from the other side of the world took an interest in my culture and they're trying their best to be respectful. Bonus points if the person is familiar with this type of disrespect and they are with us in this fight 😄 I didn't know about all the changes in the Journey to the West and I'm grateful to see the Chinese perspective (which I didn't have the chance to be exposed to, so far).

"I'm a Christian although I feel no connection or care for the religion at all I only follow it or at least pretend I do because of my parents." That's at least 50% of the Greeks and we would also add "we go to the afterparties of religious festivals because of the FOOD" 😂 (and the music, and the dance. We know how to partyyy)

Oh, one small thing! It might just be a random typo, but I see this all the time from different people, so it's worth clarifying that it's "Hellenic polytheism" and not "Hellenistic Polytheism". "Hellenistic" describes one of the eras of Greek history, while "Hellenic" is the Greek word for "Greek" and it's a fit term to describe the polytheism.

May you be well, and I'm here if you have any questions!

[opinated-user]

If Lily were remotely interested in actually combating fandom racism she'd focus on other characters in TOH and not just the white one she hates. If you're complaining about a white guy all the time, that's not progressive, because you're still discussing a white character and making him the center of attention instead of celebrating the stories of POC in the cast.

The only time Lily ever made a video that was start-to-finish praise of any POC was when it was Kuvira, a dictator who ran reeducation camps, created a weapon of mass destruction and threatened to murder everyone who disagreed with her. That was years ago.

It took her ten years to write one black main character.

Until her video on The Princess and the Frog this year, she had never talked about a piece of media focused on black people, even though she claims to be left-leaning. Being willing to watch things centered on black people is such a low bar even most conservatives clear it by accident.

In her infamous writing tips thread, she said that you should only have one cishet white character and a really good writer will have only one cis, one het, and one white character. (This rule is ridiculous for large casts, but I will acknowledge for the core main cast it's a perfectly applicable idea.) She has never written anything that doesn't have a majority white cast. Regularly her writing writes out existing POC rather than center them.

She claims to be Native not even based on blood quantum, a practice the Cherokee people and many others do not believe in, but based upon having thick black hair. She isn't recognized by the tribe. She does not educate anyone on anything pertaining to indigenous issues and didn't even mention Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women until she talked about how if she was murdered she'd be one of them. She has never written a Native character or talked about Native characters in media.

When movies that have a majority black cast come out, she disses on them.

When anything is made by Asians, she will dismiss it, not acknowledge that different Asian cultures exist, and center whiteness (such as only ever talking about Raya and the Last Dragon in terms of Lindsay Ellis, a white woman (who she then straightwashes on top of centering)).

When a POC such as Luz is anything other than cheerful and joyous, they are, to her, totally devoid of worth and ridiculous.

If Hunter were black Lily would focus on Amity instead, because she always, always devalues POC and redirects her attention onto a white person. When she made a black OC, it was in order to beat up some white people, romance a white person, and adopt white kids. She cannot, under any circumstances, create anything that focuses entirely on POC with the sole exception of focusing on a light-skinned WOC dictator whose war crimes and crimes against humanity she not only excused but viewed as cool.

She does not fight fandom racism.

She partakes in and upholds it.

Even if her fans can convince themselves all the people she's abused are liars, even if they're not aware of her past, I genuinely do not know how anyone can look at her work and not see how blatantly racist this woman is. Her only black characters are all tied to slavery, with white characters being the victims of slavery and black people benefiting. I grew up in a racist family and I am doing a lot of work to deprogram myself. It's not easy and I have a lot I haven't learned. But even I, even as a preteen writing stories, never wrote something that messed up, because it simply never would have crossed my mind to reverse victim and offender in the context of slavery.

Watching Stitch is her "I have a black content creator I watch/friend" moment the way many people in fandom/the real world use that as their get-out-racism-accusations-free card, but it's insufficient.

If she doesn't want to be seen as racist she needs to stop being so blatantly racist. It's not hard.

but it's hard for her, because that means admitting that she needs to do work on herself to get ride of all the biases she has and she alreay barely puts any work on her channel.

[barilleon]

Arcanolinguistics Companion Blog

Arcanolinguistics, my article about verbal components in spellcasting for 5e, is out today in MCDM's ARCADIA. Please check it out! This blog post is a small dive into what went into its creation. Today marks a milestone in my career: the best thing I've ever written by far, which serves as a love letter to 5e and the people who made it worth playing for me.

When I build a character for a TTRPG and there’s an option for a language-based skill or power, I take it. One of my first D&D characters, Thavma Sanguine, was built with the linguist feat, the spell comprehend languages, and the anthropologist background from Tomb of Annihilation. Thavma was—like me—young, curious, and desperate to connect with the people around her. After years of academic study, she was eager to put her skills to the test in the real world. Language was an extension of that.

Immediately upon her creation, Thavma was captured by drow and taken to the Underdark, where the prisoners all spoke different languages. She used her abilities to bring people who did not understand each other together, to hatch an escape plan that only worked because everyone was on the same page. The DM of that campaign (you might know him, his name’s Willy Abeel) picked up on the fact that I really enjoyed exploring the game world through language, and the rest of the campaign was full of little moments for Thavma to puzzle through bits of text or linguistic differences to move the story forward. From there, our shared table started to develop some interesting linguistic trivia, some of which you can read in the article.

Playing Thavma, who was also a Wizard, made me super aware of spellcasting components. Most of the time you don’t really pay attention to them, but I feel like there’s so much storytelling potential there. I wrote a blog post about getting the most out of material components once. After that I started wondering about verbal components. Thus the idea for Arcanolinguistics was born.

On Collaboration

As of its release, Arcanolinguistics is the best thing I’ve ever written. This is in no small part due to everyone who worked on it. At dinner the other day, Hannah and I rounded up how many people it took to make, before it ever even made it to playtesters: two developmental editors, two line editors, four cultural and sensitivity consultants, two artists, and two (haha) writers.

I never intended S.A.M. to be a co-author on the article. But when I sat down to write, actually take my messy outlines and notes and put them into something for somebody else, no words came. This happens often, and like every professional I’ve developed a toolbox for fixing it. Sometimes I will start my day with a writing warmup. A quick blog post, opinion piece, or stream of consciousness to get the words flowing. Like a warmup sketch, but with words. Since at the time S.A.M. was a student in one of my home games (at Thavma’s institution, no less!), I decided to write research notes from its point of view. The more I wrote, the more I realized that S.A.M. wanted to write the article. So I let it.

This work would not exist without MCDM, especially Hannah. I only pitched this article because I know that MCDM was the only place with the passion and the resources who would help me make this article what it was supposed to be. The pitch was a risk from the start. It needed heavy development, consulting, and playtesting, and right now for a freelancer like me MCDM is the only place that can make that happen. I cannot stress enough how much of a gift ARCADIA has been to my professional development. I learned a lot on this project, pushed myself, and made something I never would have without these resources.

Hannah was always there to hop on a call and talk over spell ideas or brainstorm ways to make effects work. A lot of the effects in the article are very different from their original ideas. Without Hannah, much of them would have been super overpowered, confusing, or just plain wrong. It’s hard to add a system like this on top of spellcasting and make it click, but I think we did it. She found not one but FOUR consultants to work with us. It was important to us to do this right, from the outline stage to the end.

Kathryn and Hakan provided amazing insight for the early drafts. I’m a hobbyist; I don’t know what I’m doing. But they helped me find the right words and guided my concepts in the right direction. Yes, they were consulting on my article, but it felt like my own personal crash course in all things language. I learned about a bunch of amazing linguistic concepts thanks to them. And though I didn’t get to work directly with Rogan or Basil, their notes and suggestions made this piece shine!

The testers at MCDM are unrivaled. They built a spreadsheet for every language and every official 5e spell that the language could possibly affect. They caught some edge cases that were devastating, and devastatingly funny. My favorite was the entry for casting ray of sickness in Goblin, which just read, "Ray of Vaccination?"

I offer both my awe and apologies to Sadie and Amber, for sending them a behemoth that was so large it took two editors to tame. The final product is clear and usable and flows great thanks to them. They’re the reason you can bring this to your table instead of just considering it abstractly. They’re also the reason we got the Dohma Raskovar joke on Orcish!

Speaking of, there is always Willy, the co-creator of the personal playground inside my head. I didn’t ask what he thought of the Dohma joke. Maybe I should have, considering Raskovar is his character, designed for Flee, Mortals! But after I sent the bit in to Hannah, I just told him I did it and he laughed. I got to turn a question about wording into a love note just for him.

On My Interest in Linguistics

Linguistics (specifically sociolinguistics and the history of language) has always been an interest of mine. I love reading about the origins of language, how it’s evolved over time, and how a language’s structure can shape its speakers’ way of thinking. I’m not an academic; I can’t elaborate on that. But I can point you to some people who can. People I read and watched whose work served as research and inspiration for this article include:

The Mother Tongue: English and How it Got That Way, by Bill Bryson Lingo and Babel, both by Gaston Dorren The Story of French, by Jean-Benoît Nadeau and Julie Barlow The Linguistics Crash Course with Taylor Behnke on YouTube Conlang 101 from David Peterson (creator of Dothraki) on YouTube My favorite ttrpg: Dialect, from Thorny Games (imagine my surprise and delight when Hannah brought on this linguistic duo to CONSULT for my article!!! Holy shit!!!) The Language Instinct, by Steven Pinker Exploring Language, a collection of essays compiled by Gary Goshgarian The Language of Thieves, by Martin Puchner Jews and Words by Amos Oz and Fania Oz-Salzberger Legends of Localization blog, run by Clyde “Tomato” Mandelin A Language Family Tree in Pictures illustration by Minna Sundberg, for The Guardian's "Case for Language Learning" series.

If TTRPGs can be power fantasy, then mine is being able to use many languages, to connect with and understand as many people as I can. Not just in the /comprehend languages/ way (which I’ve likened to Google Translate), but in the authentic way, where you start to get the jokes and nuances, where you can forge relationships and shift your own perspective. I’ve been studying French on and off for over a decade, but I wouldn’t call myself any good at it. It’s hard! I don’t have anyone to practice with, and I’m also super shy in real life about speaking foreign languages. That’s why I wanted to add a fail-forward mechanic for language learning in the article. I want to believe that even though I’m not a toddler anymore, and my adult sponge-like mind has been left for many years to dry by the sink of knowledge, that I can keep working at it and get there someday.

On 5e Design

When I turned in the final draft of this article, I thought it was going to be the last major 5e thing I ever worked on. This is because I turned it in in January 2023, and you remember what happened all those years ago. While things have worked out differently and I am still designing in 5e, I sought to “leave it all on the page” with this one. It is, in my opinion, the purest expression of my 5e design philosophy: it’s fanfiction all the way down.

I liken my career as a 5e designer to my experience as an incredibly niche fanfic author. I like finding the little cracks in canon and filling them in, adding nice little layers of things that could have plausibly happened within canon and supporting them with as much textual evidence as possible so that people reading can accept it as their own headcanon. I think these are important skills to have for a designer of someone else’s game, especially when there’s a lot of other third party material competing to be incorporated into your table.

I found a niche in the 5e system—spellcasting components could be cooler and tied more to the world—and I filled it. While language is very much setting-based, I tried hard to use as much textual evidence as possible when forming these concepts. Devils have forked tongues, elves live everywhere and can all understand each other somehow, the dwarvish writing system is by far the most common in use. So I hope these ideas can conform to your own table, too.

But if they don’t, remember that everything not discussed at your table (yes, even official material) is fanfiction. Take it or leave it! If your table’s world doesn’t have the same languages as the SRD, maybe you can still find a way to map my rules onto your world. Or maybe it’ll inspire you to write brand-new rules for your own languages. As a writer and designer of fanfiction, nothing would make me happier.

[ciaossu-imagines]

I adore Mystic Messenger and have been lucky enough to handle quite a few headcanon requests for it. Not much love though for my precious V, who is one of my favourites, I will admit, so I took it upon myself to choose to write some headcanons for him! I used this prompt here and hope you all will enjoy them (since I do know he’s a pretty divisive character in the fandom)!

What they smell like?

I feel like V smells really good. He takes his personal hygiene seriously and does regularly shower and keeps clean. He favours shampoos and soaps with light and clean, faintly citrusy, scents. I feel like, when he was with Rika, he wore a more musky and spicy cologne that she favored but that, when he chooses his own cologne, it’s a lighter scent, like Burberry’s Touch.

How they sleep (sleeping position, schedule, etc.)?

V sleeps on his side, almost in a fetal position but not quite. It’s vaguely fetal but he’s not as tightly curled up on himself, and he keeps his bottom leg mostly straight, with one arm underneath his head. He doesn’t move much while he sleeps and his breathing while he sleeps is light and regular and almost noiseless.

What music they enjoy?

He likes a lot of different types of music and enjoys learning about new bands and artists. He does like classical music and he can play several instruments, but he’s also in soft-rock, folk, happy sounding pop music if the lyrics aren’t aggressive, and would be strangely into cuddlecore music.

How much time they spend getting ready every morning?

It honestly depends on his mental health at the time. At the times when his mental health was the worst, while he’d make sure he was clean, V would put a lot less time into his personal appearance and could be ready in less than five minutes. When his mental health is fully positive, he does take pride in his appearance, both in his personal grooming and his attire, and takes about forty-five minutes to an hour to be fully ready.

Their favourite thing to collect?

V is a photographer, so is it any surprise that he likes collecting photographs? He makes scrapbooks and has photo albums that he loves looking through. I also think he likes collecting wine, tobacco pipes, art, and vinyl records.

Left or right-handed?

I think V is ambidextrous. It’s how I’ve always headcanoned him, though I think he uses his right hand slightly more.

Religion (if any)?

V’s been raised in the Catholic faith and is still a practicing Catholic, though he attends church a lot less regularly than he would like and, while the whole Rika situation is going on, I think he feels like he doesn’t deserve the comfort of confession and it would be a while before he allows himself to participate in that ritual again.

Favourite sport?

V was never a big fan of sports, though he did try to enjoy them for his father’s sake growing up. I feel like he played football (soccer) during school because it was his father’s favourite sport and does know enough about baseball to be able to participate in conversations about it but generally isn’t all that into sports.

Favourite touristy thing to do when travelling (museums, local food, sight-seeing, etc.)?

All of it. Seriously, V actually really enjoys travelling. By the time he dies, he wants to have seen the whole world and he will do everything he can to immerse himself in a place and soak up all of the things it, and the culture, can provide. He likes art galleries and museums, visits museums based around history or culture, asks locals for restaurant recommendations so that he can get authentic meals, and does enjoy sight-seeing, both through guided tours and through just exploring on his own with his camera.

Favourite kind of weather?

It shifts…with Rika, in the beginning, V loved the sun. No day was as good as those where the sun shone brightly and warmed everything. But when things got bad with Rika, he developed an almost obsession with rainy days, with the heavy atmosphere and gloomy skies. When he mentally heals, I think he goes back to preferring warmer days, with the sun in the sky, but not quite to the almost obsessive level he had before.

A weird/obscure fear they have?

Honestly, it’s rejection. V is a people pleaser at heart, with a desire to be accepted and loved and he fears everyone rejecting him.

The carnival/arcade game they always win without fail?

I feel like V is actually really good at the goldfish catching festival/carnival booth. He always gets a fish, and he names every single one of them, though he tends to give them away to small children instead of taking them home.

[flipping-the-coin]

Orion, what are some of the things you miss most about Kaon?

From the desk of  Head Archivist: Orion Pax Hall of Records East Trion Square Iacon

Thank you for your inquiry! It is not often I am asked to speak about my time in my second home. I urge all who read this document to set aside whatever prewar and wartime propaganda that has been fed to you regarding the people and culture of Kaon, as the stereotypes of Kaon are largely based in misunderstandings and prejudice. I became fond of Kaon long before I ever met my Conjunx, when I stumbled upon a collection of Kaoni graffiti that was posted to a forum on the datanet. Graffiti was largely nonexistent in Iacon back then; I had never seen artistic expression presented this way before and was fascinated by how beautiful it was. It inspired me to attempt to learn to draw myself, for a time, however I was quickly reminded of my function as an archivist and not an artist, and thus dropped that as a pursuit, but my interest in Kaon remained, and was acceptable per Alpha Trion to pursue as a specialty interest.

Megatronus later took me to visit many of the artistic works I remembered after we became friends. There was one, in particular, that we used to visit often that depicted the Pits Arena, with a depiction of fallen Gladiators covered in energon with only one standing, looking up towards the sky. Above it was written, 'Save our City.' Megatronus told me that it was one of the oldest murals in Kaon, created when the Arenas were first constructed, in protest of their function. He told me that it had been removed several times, but it was always recreated within a decacycle of its destruction.

Eventually, I stumbled upon the speeches and poetry of Megatronus online.  (I am well aware that everyone knows how that turned out in the end, but I would like to specifically speak on our early correspondences for just a klik.) I am afraid that my early attempts at truly understanding what Megatronus was saying were obscured by my lack of understanding of his dialect. He was quite patient in educating me on Kaoni glyph usage, and I become enthralled by the way that the mechs of Kaon use metaphor in their common language; a direct opposite to Iaconian standards that prefer direct, clinical glyphs to convey meaning.

Kaoni speech is simply different. Many metaphors obscure what is being said to those who do not understand the dialect, this was especially true for the Gladiator caste of Kaon. For example, in Iacon, spark merges are simply referred to as spark merges. If one were to wish to ask for one, They would use the glyphs directly referring to merging their sparks; "I wish to merge sparks with you." It is direct and clear. However, in Kaon, if one were to express this desire, they would use much different glyphs such as "I wish to taste your spark." or "I would give my spark to you." I found this sort of poetic glyph usage to be quite beautiful, and I do miss the dialect in my audials. Hardly anyone speaks Kaoni here.

Everything in Kaon was warm: the climate, the people, the fuels…. It was much less rigid than Iacon, and I found myself enjoying how little they cared about one’s caste or status. I enjoyed the informal nature of social gatherings, where boisterous laughter and jovial banter was common. The high grade wasn’t as refined, but there were many Kaoni specific beverages that simply were divine that have been lost, as well as many recipes that I am devastated that I never took the time to process and archive myself. 

There were many places of great beauty in Kaon, if one knew where to find them. Megatronus often took me to a particular abandoned mine shaft that had one particular branch that led to the most exquisite naturally formed crystal garden I have ever laid my optics upon. They glowed marvelously in the most exquisite shades of soft greens, blues, pinks and purples and created spires that twisted and merged into each other and the ceiling above them… I loved it there so much that that is where Megatronus and I performed our Rites and gave our sparks to each other. They were one of Kaon’s best kept secrets, and I will never reveal where they are located. I am unaware of whether they remain accessible in modern times. 

I stress again that Kaon was so much more than the propaganda would have one believe. This merely scratches the surface of the things I miss of the Kaon of old. I am afraid I would keep you all cycle if I went over everything. Kaon was special to me. It felt more like home to me than Iacon ever has.

Head Archivist,

Orion Pax

[giantologist]

Dear Professor Finch,

I confess to having only heard of him through idle gossip, but I believe it imperative you be made aware. Rumour has it that a peculiar man recently began selling tours and trinkets from the frost-giant's ancestral graves, far to the north. His insights about their culture and history seem to be substantially less charitable than your own, but as you are keenly aware people are entranced by the macabre.

He calls himself, the "jötunneer".

Yours, a concerned admirer of giants.

(Open ended prompt)

Good morning.

I took it upon myself to investigate your tip and see what this "jotuneer" was playing at. Needless to say I was not impressed by what I saw. A lot of the trinkets, as you say, were either random items he'd found within, or cheap replicas of said items. He spun some odd story about frost giants being evil creatures, born of the icy hearts of men, and that the 'remains' he'd found within proved his point. As I have stated, cremation is incredibly important to giants, and the only remains I could see were sealed in urns with giantish prayers inscribed upon them. What he referred to were large ice sculptures that, if the circumstances were different, would have been impressive.

I asked questions without introducing myself, acting more the bewildered tourist than the expert I am. He still spun that odd tapestry of myth, which smacked of a con man to me. I drew the conclusion that he'd pieced together fact and fiction to make a mystical mountain from an old buried mole hill. He claimed himself to be a man learned in giantish ways - which was rather funny to me since he couldn't even read the runic inscriptions. I asked him if I might bring a friend along later in the day to hear his tales, and he was very insistant that I did (and I would get in again for half price, apparently).

Well, he got the fright of a lifetime when he stopped in the middle of his falsified rant on how certain items were used because my large friend was in tow. I pleasantly asked him to repeat a few of his bogus claims, and show us some of the artifacts that he'd taken from my friend's family tomb. I should say that my giant friend had no relation to those in question, but it fell out of my mouth. Dear me, I have never felt so happy to watch someone squirm.

Needless to say that he gave a hurried and nonspecific excuse, and quickly made his egress. I then declared myself to those few who had stuck around, offering answers considering they had been lied to, and spent a while putting the tomb to rights.

When I had finished a little research, I left to find my giant friend with his hands full of tourists, happily listening to questions. I'm only glad I got there when I did, before that Jotuneer's idiocy resulted in a slaying.

Thank you for the tip!

Professor J Finch