labenergylife

[queer-ragnelle]

Hi! I was wondering if you had any advice on how to craft a well-written, compelling Arthurian OC that isn't obnoxious or out of place but is still unique. I recognize the difficulty in doing so with so many different source texts (I'm most familiar with Le Morte, so that's usually my go-to) and the vast list of already existing characters. I'm just curious about your thoughts on the matter, since you're an author and also very knowledgeable about Arthuriana 💖

Hello there!

This is a tough question to answer! I think it's important to note that everyone will have a different opinion on this, but that shouldn't alter you writing your story how you want to. Some think adding any characters at all is too big of a change, while others write a full cast of original characters and then Merlin shows up randomly and makes the story "Arthurian."

I'm going to say something controversial.

Every Arthurian character is an OC.

Even King Arthur himself is an OC.

I'm going to elaborate on this quite a bit, as it's very important to me. But the TL;DR is that reading more will definitely help you conceptualize the boundaries of what's possible. Le Morte d'Arthur is a great start, but there's so much out there, both medieval and modern, that'll undoubtedly aid in your Arthuriana writing journey! :^)

While I do say things like "I love Arthurian OCs" as a means to convey that I view everyone's new creations as valid and interesting, I actually don't believe in a strong differentiation between Chretien de Troyes' Sir Lancelot or Marie of France's Sir Lanval and what you or I are writing today. We're participating in a tradition which can, at times, necessitate the creation of a new character or repurposing of an existing one. I think as soon as you create a character for your Arthurian story, they're an Arthurian character. Some refer to Lancelot or Galahad as "French OCs" or call Knight of the Cart or the Vulgate "fanfiction" as a means to degrade it's validity. Some seem to have an arbitrary timeline on which the full body of Arthurian works is measured, and the more recently something was written, the less authentic it becomes. I think they're wrong. I believe that whether or not we enjoy an installment in the ever expanding Arthurian tradition is irrelevant; it's all equally entitled to a measure of respect, even the new characters. No character or story is lesser than another by virtue of its age or language of origin or target audience or medium. I disdain the excess of scrutiny put upon certain arbitrary groupings of Arthurian tradition. Each story is full of original characters and building on the foundations of what came before. That's the nature of creative influence. Whether or not Arthur was a real person at some point in history is moot. The guy in the Mabinogion or the Vulgate or Le Morte d'Arthur or BBC Merlin is a character. He's a tool to tell a story. Such as your creation will be! Your brand new Arthurian character stands equally with all the rest who preceded them. :^)

Now, it can be helpful to distinguish between a medieval character and a modern one, sure, as they may represent different things depending on what point in history (or part of the world) they were created in. But Arthuriana isn't a franchise one must obtain express permission to contribute to, and it doesn't have a "canon," so therefore differentiating a character as "other" can be counter productive when developing a story. I don't believe Sir Robin from Monty Python and The Holy Grail (1975) or Brian from The Adventures of Sir Lancelot (1956-1957) are any less valuable as characters, even if they do draw on traits of existing Arthurian motifs in order to commentate on them or otherwise expand. In fact I think they're great characters and serve their narrative roles beautifully. One simple and one complex. I recommend watching those to see how it's done well and that may help you develop your own characters. But I'll delve into it a bit here to illustrate what I mean.

Sir Robin carries the coat of arms of a chicken, he's a cowardly knight followed around by a troupe of musicians that sing songs about all of his exploits. That is, the things he's run away from. Rather than use an existing Arthurian character and degrading them, Monty Python developed Sir Robin in order to tell their joke.

The flipside is Brian, a bona fide kitchen boy, who attaches himself to Sir Lancelot and desires to squire for him. Brian's narrative purpose is to deconstruct the nobility in a way that Gareth Beaumains, whom Brian is plainly inspired by, could not. Brian begins as a true serf forced to endear himself to Sir Lancelot to elevate his station. Merlin forges papers of nobility to convince King Arthur that Brian is worthy of this privilege. Even after that, Brian must face the brutality of his fellows while living in the barracks with them, as they don't take kindly to a "smelly kitchen boy" in their midst, plotting to get Brian to incriminate himself as a thief and get evicted from Camelot by Sir Kay. This role is incongruous with Gareth as Sir Gawain's brother, who was always noble, always a prince, and merely cloaked himself in the guise of poverty to prove a point. Gareth could return to the comforts of wealth whenever it suited him and his reason for going stealth was to intentionally distance himself from that privilege. The character Brian exists in order to commentate on the injustice of the upper class's oppression and dehumanization of the lower class in a way Gareth, or even Tor, could not, as they are of noble blood, even if it came by way of reveal. That's why Brian is a great addition to the Arthurian tradition.

Really, it comes down to treating the creation of your new Arthurian character like you would developing one for any other work, one entirely separate from the tradition. If they're a good character, they're a good character! Try not to get hung up too much on whether or not they're going to mesh well with the rest of the cast. For centuries, writers have transformed historical figures into Arthurian characters. (See: King Mark of Kernow better known as the Cuckhold King from the Prose Tristan, Owain mab Urien better known as Sir Yvain from Knight of the Lion by Chretien de Troyes, Saint Derfel better known as Derfel Gadarn from The Warlord Chronicles by Bernard Cornwell, etc.)

Speaking of Prose Tristan, would anyone consider Sir Dinadan an OC? Or Sir Palomides? They're characters added to a story drawing from a much, much older tradition, and I think they enrich the story. I feel likewise about the many Perceval Continuations, including the German Parzival by Wolfram von Eschenbach, which adds a half brother named Sir Feirefiz, or names Chretien's anonymous haughty maiden Orgeluse. What about Sir Aglovale's son Moriaen in the Dutch tradition? Amurfina in German Diu Krone by Heinrich von dem Türlin? Morgan le Fay's daughter Puzella Gaia in Italian La Tavola Ritonda? Not to mention the countless Middle English additions. The Green Knight and his wife? Dame Ragnelle and Sir Gromer? Or how about everyone's favorite Savage Damsel, Lynette of Castle Perilous? Is she not a late-era addition to the tradition courtesy of the man, the myth, the legend, Sir Thomas Malory himself? And then here comes Tennyson, who read Le Morte d'Arthur, and got to the end of dear Gareth Beaumains' story and had the same reaction we all did: "What the hell? He marries her sister?" And then he went about changing that in Idylls of the King. Speaking of Lynette, what's up with her niece Laurel? She's just a name on a page, the vast majority of retellings choose to ignore her, even if they do keep Lynette and Lyonesse. Laurel can scarcely be called a character, after all. She doesn't even have dialogue. So as I've gone out of my way to make her a prominent, fully developed character, with her own culture and back story and motivations, does that make her an OC of mine? And Henry Newbolt who included Laurel in his play Mordred: A Tragedy. And Sarah Zettel, who wrote from Laurel's point of view in Camelot's Blood. We did all the work, but we threw an Arthurian name on the character, so therefore, she isn't ours? But if we changed her name, she would be? Who gets to decide?

All of the Arthurian characters belong to all of us. That's the beauty of writing in a long-standing tradition, which exists apart from all other forms of writing. We have complete creative liberty to do what we want and refer to it how we want and no person or corporation or anyone can dictate otherwise. The intellectual property of Arthuriana belongs to the people. So invent a brand new wife for Gawain, and well, you're only the millionth author to do it! Just make sure she's an interesting character and that's literally the only requirement. Can't wait to meet her. (And all others you create!)

Have a great day!

[txttletale]

I don't think the Minecraft critique you posited is really material: every instance of automation in Minecraft is an emergent mechanic. No Mojang developer* sat down and said "let's program in automatic farms". An obvious example is the flying machine, which is so obviously not an intentional mechanic but solely emergent. All of these mechanics are also Optional. It's just as possible to play like an environmentalist, sustainably farming and making limited use of non renewable resources.

It's like saying that Mario 64 supports the murder of baby animals.

Also, even in a game where you are indisputably doing Colonialism, both intentional and required (say Sid Meier's Civilization). What are you... harming? By simulating colonialism on pixelated land? Even if that's not your claim, why phrase this as a flaw with a totally fictional world? "You can do things in this video game that, were they real, would be Very Bad" is applicable to like... every video game?

* If you happen to bring up the shitheel Notch, it's worth noting was responsible for maybe 7% of the current game.

i am aware it is emergent! that's part of what my post was about:

and sure, it is possible to play minecraft in any way you like, but the systems you are given to work with (you can destroy and replace blocks--you are given ways to cut down trees and cultivate new ones, but no way to interact with existing ones, for example) and the progression structures built on these systems (you--obviously--need to accumulate resources to craft, all the things you can craft other than the purely aesthetic ones exist to help you accumulate more resources) assume that you will be extracting resources. in much the same way that it's facile to argue that call of duty isn't about killing people because you can run around the first level of the campaign not shooting anybody for ten hours, saying that minecraft isn't about resource extraction just because (like almost any game) it contains space for oppositional reception and counter-intended play isn't a very good analysis.

anyway, i obviously don't think that you're harming anybody by playing minecraft! i agree with you that sid meier's civilization is an incredibly colonialist and reactionary game with a pretty abhorrent ideology and my playtime in it looks like this:

this is a strange phenomenon i keep encountering, where people will see me critique the ideological implications of or assumptions inbuilt into a media property and assume that as a result i think it is somehow unethical or morally harmful to engage with it. that's a bridge you're making by yourself!

when i talk about the ideology of a game i am not laying that ideology at the feet of the game--rather, i'm using it as a platform to investigate the normative assumptions that are going into that game. minecraft is not the reason that colonialism exists--but its existence is a reflection of how colonialism has shaped the material and cultural situation in which it was produced.

and this last point is why i do think it is pointless to say 'it is a fictional world'--there's no such thing as a totally fictional world. because it's fictional innit. it has no autonomous existence--a 'fictional world' only 'exists' inasmuch as it is created by somebody living in the real world and it can be interfaced with by other people living in that world. it only 'exists' in the context of such interaction, and as such it can't be neatly removed from reality for analysis--at least not for meaningful and productive analysis!

tldr, i am not saying and have never said: when you play minecraft, you are doing actual real-life harm because the creators sat down and decided they love colonialism. i am saying that the systems and affordances of minecraft have resulted in the creation of extractionist systems of automated slaughter as an optimal strategy and that's important to keep in mind when talking about, say, 'what minecraft is about'

[fereldanwench]

i'm still holding off final judgement until the gameplay today, but seeing some stills on twitter kind of helped me solidify what i found so off-putting about the style in the companion trailer

although before i post those, a few counter arguments because i'm already tired of ppl bashing the ppl who aren't vibing with it, and my head is clear enough to put these thoughts down:

"cinematic trailers rarely look like the actual game" - true to a point. however: 1) typically cinematic trailers strive to look like a higher definition version of the game, which seems to be the opposite here. in the case of DAO and DA2, i would say the cinematic trailers actually strived for more realism, not stylization, as that was the trend at the time. 2) this is a cinematic trailer, but it is also done in the game engine so it's not unreasonable to assume that the end product is gonna look somewhat similar 3) this was supposed to be their best foot forward so suddenly going "don't worry, it's gonna look better in-game" is just a bad marketing move. it's not on the audience to give this company the benefit of the doubt (particularly in light of all the shit that has gone down there in the past decade)

"not everything has to be super realistic!" - agreed! not liking elements of this particular style doesn't mean i'm opposed to stylization in DA at all. i think DA2 is much more stylized than DAO, and not only does it look nicer, it looks more distinctly dragon age. DAO visually is also very generic, especially for its time. i still love the almost painterly look of DA2, even all these years later

and i think DAI has issues with the character models, especially the uncanny valley disconnect between the really stiff animations and realistic faces (having played it within the past year, they've aged pretty roughly), but in terms of environment and armor and whatnot, it did build off the style presented in DA2 in a way that effectively modernized it for that era. it did go for a more realistic look, but it was cohesive and still distinctly dragon age

"people reacted like this to DA2 and DAI's trailers too" - no, they did not, lmao. DA2's trailers were the reverse--they looked more realistic than the actual game. now there was some backlash against the stylistic choice in the actual game. i remember david gaider talking about it in a panel at dragon con in 2012--apparently ppl were upset that the companions looked like they were made with cosplayers in mind, which i thought was an interesting criticism. but no, the trailers did not get this sort of response.

and DAI's trailers used a lot of in-game footage, and the cinematic ones were both pretty accurate to the game and well-received by the audience. DAI's marketing was also absolutely bonkers and nonstop for like 9 months before the game was released, which in hindsight i think was way too much, but in terms of visuals, we knew exactly what we were getting.

"you guys just think anything with a style to it looks like fortnite" - lmao, okay, yeah, describing it as fornite is probably unfair and inaccurate, but i know for me, i kind of use it as a shorthand to reflect my general dissatisfaction with the way so many 3D styles (in both games and movies) just have this bland, cartoonish look to them. the pixar-ification of everything. i just don't like it.

and the logo with the bright purple and overly smooth text doesn't really help here either. i think a less saturated and darker purple paired with a grungier font would also help in making this feel like less like fornite season 3458345: dragon age avengers.

plus it was originally gonna be a live service game and i think that it still has some of that dna artistically

SO ANYWAY

these stills, which i think are also in-game engine but im not entirely sure if they're from cinematics, gameplay, or just renders but they seem to be in-line with the trailer:

and seeing emmrich and to a lesser extent neve in these pics solidified why the stylization didn't work for me on a visual level (never mind it being paired with the light-hearted planning-for-a-silly-little-heist vibes)

so when i first saw the trailer, and i saw varric, i was like "nice"

he looked like a higher definition, older version of a DA2/DAI hybrid of his model. he looked really good. i thought harding looked good, too. it did take me a minute to realize who she was, but it really wouldn't be a DA trailer if we weren't left wondering who tf a returning character was lmao (remember the confusion over alistair's appearance in one of the DAI trailers? this is actually tradition now)

but as the trailer goes on, the style doesn't even stay consistent--it just gets progressively more cartoonish right up to emmrich, which is the exact moment that made me go WHAT

he looks like a cartoon character. the hard lines in his face, the stiffness of his hair, his overall proportions--he looks like he should be a villain in a pixar movie. like i'm digging his overall vibe and as a concept of a character design, i love it. but this execution of it next to fellow old wrinkled man varric looks so off

and then we go right into davrin who is beautifully rendered and designed--he doesn't look out of place next to varric or harding

some characters have the soft, wispy hair while others have hair that looks like a hard shell with lines carve into it. some characters have finely detailed wrinkles while others have thick, cartoonish ones. some characters have realistic proportions while others have more exaggerated features.

stylization is only effective when it's purposeful and consistent, and from what i've seen so far, it's not. it's all over the place.

so there's my thesis about why i dont like the art direction in the trailer lmao

and like i've been saying since it dropped, i am reserving full judgment for the gameplay reveal, but based on the other stuff bioware has teased, i'm not expecting this aspect to change too much. i've seen other ppl who were on the fan council thing say the tone in the game is more in-line with the tone in the other games, so maybe that'll help smooth out this disconnect

[orkbutch]

sound like terf talking points ngl. just say you don’t think trans women are women and go :/

I'm assuming this ask is referring to this post, otherwise idk what it'd be about That post was made in response to me first noticing trans men talking about "transmisandry". An element of whats being called transmisandry is the exact experience I described in that post, and I was giving my opinion on that change in gender perception and how battling against that is pretty futile. As I said in the post, this wariness toward masculinity and cis men - I'm just going to call this 'Man Wariness' for short - is also something the vast majority of trans women have internalised. (I only say "vast majority" because I guess there could be The Exception? but really I just think All women have that wariness lmao.)

I became aware of this discussion because trans women that I follow on twitter have been pushing back on the misogyny and transmisogyny that's been expressed by the people championing the existence of transmisandry the hardest. I've been witnessing a lot of conversations trans women are having about the trans/misogyny they've experienced specifically from trans men. They (accurately imo) identify this as a threat to the integrity of feminism, particularly within transgender thought/politics, because misandry is not a real oppressive framework that exists. Pro-transmisandrists have been arguing that misandry is real and harms trans women as well, because The Man Wariness - non-men having learned to be guarded and fearful of masculinity & (what their brain associates subconsciously with) cis men - can also be directed at trans women, and results in transphobia toward those women.

The trans women disagreeing resent the framing of this as a 'misandry' issue because, of course, trans women are women. The people that hate trans women, even the ones that call them men to abuse them, don't actually see them as Men. In the eye of the transphobe, terf or GC, trans women are something else entirely, an inherently deviant third thing. Pushing back against "misandry", a supposed systemic oppressive hatred of manhood and men, does absolutely nothing to protect women from oppression. Trans women are oppressed, attacked, assaulted and abused mostly viciously and routinely by cis men. Labelling a description and discussion of Man Wariness as "TERF talking points" is just... deeply, deeply unhelpful imo. Man Wariness is just real. Thats just how a LOT of people operate in the world, trans women included. Obviously this learned wariness ends up impacting how many trans women are viewed and treated, and I understand being skeptical of me defending Man Wariness because of that. I was talking about it in the context of trans men/mascs' experiences specifically. Honestly... I don't really have helpful, thorough thoughts on how Man Wariness impacts trans women/fems and how that should be tackled. Its a bit of a wicked problem, I'm not trans fem and I haven't seen much discussion about this specifically. I assume because its a touchy subject thats kind of avoided. On the one hand, I believe deeply that trans women shouldn't need to perform/achieve a certain level of femininity in order to be safe, happy and acknowledged by society as women. On the other hand, Man Wariness is an uncontrollable response that is very deeply internalised, often directly connected to traumatic experiences, and I don't think its something that can be explored and addressed unless we can talk about it openly and frankly. Your response to this is very counter-productive imo. It just shuts down any possibility of a nuanced, open discussion. Maybe it'd be helpful if I was a terf, but I'm not lol. Which is obvious if you've known me or followed my work for any significant amount of time. Its the kind of response that shames someone for having Man Wariness, and feeling shame about an uncontrollable emotional response is toxic. Thats going to make that person feel they're irredeemably transphobic in some deeply embedded way that makes them reluctant to interact with trans women. And if theres anything that I think would break down someone's Man Wariness reaction to trans women, it would be having more familiarity with trans women because they'd pretty quickly internalise that trans women are not a threat and are women. OR of course that shame makes them feel rejected and alienated from trans friendly sphears, and they then turn toward TERF & GC sphears where they can be reassured their Man Wariness is fine, and are then vulnerable to being radicalised. But you know in my opinion no matter where that discussion went, no matter how immovable Man Wariness could be proven to be, that will NEVER invalidate that trans people have a right to safety, health, happiness and acceptance within society as the gender we know we are. That's actually just fact. These discussions are simply figuring out How that should come to be, and what our vision of a better, trans accepting society might look like.

[lumilasi]

Finished her up finally.

She's sort of the antagonist boss for the Sterling family/Starknight 'story', though not the "main" villain, as the endgame boss actually first needs to regain his memory lol (She might even end up helping the good guys at that point with her massive amount of knowledge that could be useful for them)

She is the boss for Cornel Sala, AND Vincent DeVos/Vee, who's my character Angus' toxic ex friend.

More info about Camilla below:

Name: Camilla Barone

Age: 39

Height: 171 cm

A mob family leader who is the head of the family opposing Vermontes

Role: One of the antagonists for the Starknight tag

Love interest: She has somewhat of a physical relationship with her vampiric right hand man, though its purely casual, neither she or him take it very seriously.

Subordinates:  Vincent DeVos (A plaque demon) Samar (A Seemingly ancient Soul Eater, who turns out to be the brother of the Soul Eater King/Deity) Cornel Sala (A vampire)

Rival: The Sterling family, a Sorceress-Grimmhound family that often meddles in their business to prevent the harm they may cause.

Powers:

Sharp shooter: Camilla has a very good aim with a gun, and is also excellent at using a rifle.

High intellect: she is a very good tactician, and is able to consider her next several moves ahead. She isn't the type to rush into action needlessly, and will listen if told doing something is just far too risky despite short-term benefit.

Knowledge of Ether: She knows a lot about the mythical world, mythical beings and magic thanks to Cornel, and always makes sure to keep as much knowledge as possible stored for future uses. This enables her to, for example, counter things such as Grimmhounds (Diojas' bio dad Alexander) or how to diffuse dark magic spells. (Azul's forte)

Natural authority: She has this natural vibe to her that makes people listen to her. When her brother mysteriously ended up dead, nobody questioned her and were fine with her becoming the next boss - despite her gender - because she's always had more respect from the members than her brother did. Also she's guarded by 2 VERY terrifying men typically (Samar and Cornel) so you don't wanna mess with her.

Weaknesses:

Being a human, she is fairly defenseless against a lot of magic things, if she hasn't looked into it enough, and therefore can still be caught off-guard even if she has studied her mythical enemies a lot.

Her job is very straining and stressful mentally, making her struggle with normal socialization, which does make her feel very lonely and isolated at times. Her mythical guardians are always by her side, but ultimately, deep down, she knows they're not the same as her fellow humans. (Also she really wishes she had a gal-pal to chat with)

Having been almost killed once before she can be pretty paranoid about her safety, even when being protected by a literal vampire and a soul eater. However, paradoxically she then might be too comfortable around them, sometimes putting herself at risk when Cornel is going feral for example.

Personality:

Camilla is very serious and closed-off most of the time, and tends to not care for unnecessary chit-chat. She is very cautious and considers her every move carefully. Being a mob boss means she has hardened herself for such things like violence, and didn't even shed a tear when her brother was killed.

She isn't entirely heartless though; for example, she tends to not be happy if children are mixed into the business somehow, or if needless violence is used. She also genuinely feels sympathy for Vee, and them being rejected by someone he loves, as well as pities their inability to see why that happened.

Camilla does prefer avoiding unnecessary violence whenever able, because she doesn't find it that productive and could just trigger unnecessary cycles of vengeance that is bad for business.

BG Story

Camilla used to be her brother's closest confidant, until he started to obsess over the mythical beyond what was typical of their family, to the point of wanting to start a "relationship" with one working for them - a Grimmhound Roman Bosco. She observed from the sidelines as he began dappling with things he didn't fully understand and without their usual safety precautions, to the point he didn't even always listen to the warnings given to him by Cornel Sala - a vampire working for Camilla who knows his shit - about being careful with what he got his hands to.

However, once Roman managed to escape her brother's clutches, he fully went off the deep end, forgetting all about his family duties and only focusing on in his pursuit to find Roman and get him back. At this point, Camilla approached Cornel, telling him she was concerned her brother could end up destroying their family if this kept up. He agreed with her assessment, admitting he'd been concerned with his more and more unhinged behavior; if he started getting too careless with his dappling with magic, that would be bad for Cornel too as him being alive could get exposed to the forces that had once hunted him before his supposed death. Sometime after this conversation, Cornel kills her brother secretly.

Now the new head of the family, Camilla is introduced to an old servant of the Barones, who was invited in to become her personal guardian as per tradition in their family (her brother had refused this offer at the time as he had Roman): a man who'd served their parents and grandparents; A soul eater called Samar. She is initially miffed about this, but he quickly becomes a surrogate father figure to her.

Fun Facts:

She's Demiromantic bi.

Camilla sometimes wears sunglasses, or glasses with one blackened lens, instead of an eyepatch.

Camilla doesn't like drinking alcohol, she hates how it can hindrance your decision making ability. She lets her companions check all her drinks beforehand too, to make sure someone isn't trying to smuggle her alcohol or something worse.

Barones are mainly "officially" known for smuggled goods, counterfeit items business, money laundering and arms dealing. (Camilla's brother wanted to get into drug trade too, but she finds that too risky and messy)

Their more mythical, occultist business is a well kept secret that only select few are aware of.

She has been offered to heal her eye by both Cornel and Vee, but has declined their offers, not really trusting either with vulnerable medical things like an eye.

Camilla doesn't fully trust either Cornel or Vee, but does trust Samar due to him having been in their family for so long. Ironically the person who stabs her in the back (involuntarily in a way, circumstances force it) ends up being him.

Camilla is aware there's sexual tension between Cornel and Sam as well, and doesn't really care as its not like she's in a serious relationship with the vampire.

She pities Vee, as she could tell almost instantly - alongside everyone else pretty much - why he was rejected by Angus. She is also not always that happy when Cornel tricks him into doing unpleasant work he's too lazy to do.

While DeVos sometimes freaks her out due to his whole plague demon deal, she tends to still be fairly nice to him, seeing him almost like a poor lost child who doesn't really understand yet where he went wrong.

The simple pattern tattoo she has is in reference to their late mother who also had similar tattoo, just around her collarbone.

[ccborrega]

A HANDY GUIDE TO KNOWING WHICH FRANKELDA ENGLISH DUB YOU ARE WATCHING BY SOMEONE WHO'S GONE THROUGH BOTH:

It's been brought to my attention that some, ahem, unofficial streaming sites have the old english dub done in what was likely a severe time crunch by a studio that... wasn't really prepared for the task back in 2021, rather than the new and improved one released at the beginning of this month, which results in people meeting excitement over the english version with puzzlement and even indignation having experienced the former rather than the latter.

Here's a few pointers to help you spot which one you're watching:

Titles. @figmentedjedi brought it up in a post already but the 2023 dub has Frankelda herself read it where the old one has Herneval do it.

2023 dub has inserts for anything shown in screen that is written in spanish and otherwise incomprehensible without translation, included the titles of the stories Frankelda reads.

New dub consistently and constantly misses loops and just leaves characters flapping without anything coming out. The best example to this is Nemo's counter during the Gnome's song, where he's very clearly singing but nothing can be heard.

This is where the whole 'Old dub didn't really have any involvement or even revision of the Ambriz Brothers' comes in stronger but you know how the show's title is 'Frankelda's Book of Spooks'? Well, there they call the creatures in her stories 'Scares' for reasons I still can't discern, my best guess is they didn't really have any quality control on board with the project. Long story short, if they say 'Scares', it's the old dub.

If El Coco calls himself 'Boogaboo' and is autotuned AF in his song, you're watching the old dub. New dub has him introducing himself with both El Coco and The Boogeyman and has the same voice actor that voiced him in spanish doing the song. Trust me, it's night and day.

I feel kinda bad about pointing this out because I still insist the actors in the old dub seem to me to have been doing the best they could with what they'd been handed and this seems to have been completely on the production... but the english in the old one is rather clumsy. To be clear, in order to translate from spanish to english, you are often better off pretty much rewriting the sentence AFTER having understood it in it's entirety because the grammar and even the sentence structure can be vastly different between one another, so translating literally and word by word often results in complete nonsense or at least very, very awkward wording both from english to spanish and viceversa. This wasn't done here and it results in a lot of times where understanding what was said takes you a bit because the structure of the sentence was all wonky.

That aside, grammar as a whole wasn't as thoroughly consulted as it could have been. So there's quite a bit of fumbles. The ones I remember the most is the Mermaid saying 'All these innocent childs' and Nemo saying 'Chores' instead of 'Homework' (Tarea can both mean homework and stuff you do around the house so that was probably where they got confused) The new dub is a lot more competent in this aspect.

This one's more of a nitpick I guess but in the old dub they have no idea whatsoever of how to pronounce some of the kids' names. Tere becomes Terry, Uli becomes Julie.

They also call Pan de Muerto 'Bread of the Dead', which... it's not that it's bad but who even calls it that? We don't call Croissants 'Crescent moons' so I see no reason to, and if you have no idea what Pan de Muerto is, that name makes it sound unpleasantly like something made FROM dead people. 'Day of the dead bread', which is used in the new dub is not only clearer to what it IS, something that is consumed in the Day of the Dead, but they use it alongside the original name because that IS its name. I never understand when dubs want to completely erase the cultural identity of what they are representing, and they did a wonderful job going around that in the 2023 dub where the old one even calls them 'Breadrolls' at one point.

This is where I insist the actors at least had some idea of what they were doing for the most part but the old dub adds some reactions that were never there for the original latam track and weren't put in the new one either.

Both Totolina and Francisca's grandma in the old dub sound like they're trying for a really posh british accent (Which is hilarious in context, as it was Francisca's DAD who came from... I wanna say Cornwall as it seems more likely given the time period and provided lore, but her mother's side of the family are locals to Hidalgo.) where the new dub has a very neutral english. She is also voiced by Debra Wilson, and particularly 'You can transform', the witches' song, takes full advantage of her range and energy.

This one's even a little bit obvious but the new dub was released with a visual remaster, making it so the old dub is only available with the old visuals. The newer one is, then, only available with the remaster. Here's a couple of pics for comparison of one of the moments where it's the most evident.

Pre-Remaster:

Post-Remaster.

Finally (And this should make it a lot easier.) the songs are wildly different between one version and another, and you can reference what the new dub versions are easily because they've been posted both on Spotify and Youtube under the Water Tower Music account and the Frankelda's Book of Spooks topic. If the songs don't have those lyrics, then you're watching the old dub, simple as that.

Hope this helps and happy watching! Do watch the original with subs if it's at all possible because, I insist, it's amazing.

[princeescaluswords]

Words Aren't Necessary

Written for Meta May Monday 2024's prompt: Pack.

I enjoyed Teen Wolf The Movie, all-in-all. Like any piece of media, there were things I wanted that I didn't get and things that I felt should have happened that didn't. Now, while there are things I didn't want and things that I feel shouldn't have happened, for me it is always beneficial to examine the media closely and answer the question, why did they do that?

One of the things that displeased me initially was the appearance of distance between Liam and Scott. (And the absence of Hayden, but if I talk about that, I'll never get to my point). Liam and Scott didn't have a real conversation in the movie beyond a few shouted instructions at each other. Yes, part of the reason for this was trying to fit a whole story into a little over two hours, but they could have at least had a moment together.

However, looking back over time, I had an epiphany. Perhaps that wasn't an oversight but a conscious decision. I decided to look at their relationship in the movie within the context of the show, and I concluded that this was not just a production necessity but -- especially in the light of the "Scott roars and the pack's eyes light up" scene -- a conscious decision. Perhaps words aren't necessary to reaffirm the bond between alpha and beta.

I will explore this by looking at their relationship in the movie and comparing it with two different scenes: the opening when the possessed wolf comes onto the lacrosse field in Said the Spider to the Fly (6x01) and the scene between Derek and three of his betas in Restraint (3x07).

When the movie starts, Scott is in Los Angeles, and he tells Chris that he hasn't been back in Beacon Hills for a long time. Liam lives and works with Hikari in a place that could very well be on the other side of the world but was never specified. Scott and Liam are both drawn to Beacon Hills for different reasons, yet at first, they don't seem to have had much to do with each other. When they do meet up, there are clues that they haven't become strangers. Scott may be surprised to see Liam, but then again Liam was living far away. On the other hand, Liam doesn't have to introduce Hikari. Liam doesn't have to explain the reasons why he and Hikari would come here. Scott can give Liam instructions immediately, and there's no push back. They work together without any of the necessary establishing scenes that people who have lost track of each other would need. I point out that this is also true for Derek, Lydia, and Malia. Malia and Scott have issues, but even so, it doesn't stop them from working together; it doesn't even make it more difficult. Malia tries to tell Lydia that she missed her, which Lydia gently rebuffs, but that's set to the side.

In fact, the person that Scott must talk to the most is Allison, bewitched by the nogitsune. He establishes motive, explains decisions, and seeks to build trust. Melissa tells Scott that it's important to help her remember who she was. Allison was pack. Just like Liam, just like Derek, just like Lydia and Malia.

Now, a possible counter argument is that this was just made to cut down on exposition in the movie due to time requirements, but I feel there are many scenes (especially between Stiles and Scott, but I'm not going to address those because Stiles wasn't in the movie) where trust was demonstrated in the series by there being no need to explain it to each other.

An important scene which I feel demonstrates this is at the beginning of 6B. Liam, having trouble because Hayden has moved away, almost gets caught transforming in the middle of practice. Scott has to talk him down. Yet, when the diseased wolf (possessed by the Anuk-Ite, though no one knows that yet) shows up and menaces Nolan and the lacrosse team, Scott and Liam immediately begin working together without talking. Scott doesn't have to ask Liam to come with him; Liam doesn't have to inquire about their plan. They walk in unison even though Liam was having trouble not five minutes before.

A counterpoint is the scene in Restraint, where Derek is trying to formulate a plan against the kanima and Gerard, and he gets frustrated because his betas keep questioning his decisions. They're looking at the restraints they're going to use for the full moon, and Isaac is asking him question after question. Derek explodes with "We can't!" to these questions which seem to be quite reasonable. Why the anger? Because pack should mean that his betas shouldn't have to badger him about what they were going to do. Isaac never stops questioning Derek, never stops demanding explanations. Eventually, Isaac joins up with another pack.

Of course, the writing decisions are influenced by the limitations of the medium, especially time requirements. Davis very clearly didn't want to spend a lot of time on exposition and explanation. That wasn't what he was interested in. Yet, I feel that the lack of conversation in the movie couldn't be Davis's disinterest in Liam and Scott's relationship, because otherwise there would be little reason for Liam to be there at all. Liam didn't know Allison; he wasn't invested, and if the film could do without Stiles, it could certainly do without Liam. But the narrative reason he was included was to underline the truth behind Scott's taunt to the nogitsune.

Scott: And I'm still standing. And I'm still the alpha.

The nogitsune wants their fun, and it pleases it to kill a pack's alpha right in front of them, and he is there alpha, and they're his betas. It even pretends to be a werewolf to twist the knife. He fails, of course, but Jeff didn't need to have the characters say the words to show that it is true.

[dailyanarchistposts]

That humanity is somehow ‘out of balance’ with nature is hardly a topic of controversy nowadays. There is little question that humans are fouling the world to the point of suicide for us and mass extinction for all other life. To claim otherwise is ludicrous. In a variety of ways, people have attempted to grasp the problem, define it, and seek solutions. Of the many new and more faddish results, few have been as popular as Deep Ecology — also known as Biocentrism — the view that humans are acting out of excessive human-centredness (anthropocentrism) and thus destroying the planet and the rest of the species which have just as much ‘intrinsic right’ to live out their biological destiny as we do. Accordingly, Biocentrism (life/earth/nature centredness) calls for a new way of acting. Specifically, it calls for ‘earth-centred’ activity and thinking — putting the ‘earth first’ (instead of putting ourselves first) as a way out of the global dilemma.

In the following rant I wish to take a critical look at these assertions and show them for what I believe to be false, misleading and even counter-productive. I don’t mean this to be a sermon or some statement of absolute truth. No way!

What follows is, more than anything else, just my initial attempt at deciphering and understanding the relationships between some types of ideas and activity that I’ve discovered to be true to the best of my experience. The points I take on here, and their broader implications, have been of central importance to many of the great disputes and inconsistencies within what can loosely be called the ‘radical ecology movement’. Hopefully, my efforts here will help to encourage further discussion.

According to its proponents, Biocentrism is nature-centred living. It therefore must be premised on an irreconcilable separation of humans and nature. This is so because if humans were inherently natural beings — i.e: an equal part of nature, fully integrated into the natural flow of life — then to be human-centred (anthropocentric) would also imply being nature-centred (biocentric). But Biocentrism has already been defined by its practitioners to be the opposite of Anthropocentrism. So, according to Biocentrist thought (nature-centred philosophy) humans are irredeemably estranged from nature — or were never part of it in the first place — because ‘human’ is posited as the opposite of ‘nature’ (Anthropocentrism versus Biocentrism). Oddly, Anthropocentrism implies the very same thing. If Anthropocentrism is human-centred living and this is the opposite of Biocentrism, or nature-centred living, then once again, ‘human’ and ‘nature’ are opposite and therefore separate. It is a contradiction to say that two positions which are identical are, in fact, opposite. I will try to resolve this dilemma by going outside of what is common to both Biocentrism and Anthropocentrism — ideological thinking.

Ideological thinking is false consciousness. In other words, it is ideas and activity which originate elsewhere, outside of our own emotional and intellectual subjectivity, our identity. Ideology is when we mistake others’ thoughts for our own or when our own thoughts become rigid and fossilised and those thoughts come to control us — instead of the other way around. Marxism, all religions, guru cults are all very clear and obvious examples of ideological thinking. The politically correct sacred or official line is what one must adhere to. These ideas and demands on our activity originate not out of our own needs or desires, or ideas or personal lived experience or community, but from outside of us, externally to us. Other examples of ideologically (false) activity include: all political ideologies, ‘causes’ (doing things for ‘the cause’ instead of for our own needs), consumerism (externally created wants and preferences) and philosophies.

Both Biocentrism, and its necessary companion, Anthropocentrism, are ideologies. They both place external demands on our thinking and activity. Biocentrism differs from, say, Marxism, Christianity or the Moonies only in content. In form it is identical. How it differs is that it demands that we act, not according to the politically, morally or guru determined correct line, but to the ‘naturally’ correct one. ‘Nature’ — or an abstract overruling idea-of-nature replaces the guru, Bible or Party doctrines. There is no room in any of these (or any other ideologies) for the vagaries of human wildness, independent thought, activity or desire — or nature. All thought and activity is pre-scribed, determined externally to our human need, desires. At times we may agree with something that is also part of an ideology. But at this point, if it is truly no longer ideological, no longer external, no longer false consciousness, then we need not invoke the label, category, guru, or other ‘authority’ to justify our ideas and activity. In other words, instead of saying “according to the Marxist doctrines...”, or “The Bible says...”, or “Deep Ecology says...”, we would say “I think that...”, “I’ve noticed that...”, “I feel that...”, or “I’m doing this because...”. In this case — authentic, subjective ideas and activity based on our constantly changing needs and desires and always personally checked out against our own everyday lived experience — we can defend and explain our ideas and activity with arguments and examples that we know to be true because we’ve thought about or actually experienced them. (This has been called ‘theory’ — more on that later). In other words, we can claim our ideas as our own.

When we are in the grips of ideological thinking and acting we cannot do this because the ideas are not our own — we did not think, feel or experience them for ourselves. (Ideology, in this way, is administered thought, directed action — more on that later.) Therefore, we cannot argue, explain or justify them ourselves. Instead when someone opposes or challenges our ideology, we must put them into a category — i.e: label them as ‘other’. The label (authority, justification) of the ideologist is then used to justify evasion of any challenge. Some examples are “That’s just Marxism...”, “That’s Violence, we follow the Non-Violence Code...”, “She’s a Humanist...”. Thus, any challenge to an ideology can be dismissed as that of an ‘outsider’ in the eyes of the Party faithful who will all nod their heads in agreement at how clever the ideologist is.

Earlier I referred to ‘theory’. Theory is (to clearly define it at least for the sake of this discussion) the opposite of ideology. Ideology is inside-out theory. In ideological activity, the motivations come from without. With theory, motivations come from within, from our own subjective ideas, experiences, longings and needs. Thus theory can also be called ‘self-theory’. Most people today are walking around inside-out, motivated and directed by a myriad of things — anything but themselves. Theory is never static, never rigid. Our theory, if we fail to constantly evolve and test it against our experience and new information, quickly fossilises into ideological thinking.

When we base our activities and ideas on our self-theory, we can clearly see what the actuality behind new information is and choose to take or leave whatever we want. The self-theorist skips and dances through the great supermarket of ideology, tearing open every package, scattering the contents and appropriating what seems good and nourishing and discarding the rest. The ideologist shops carefully, or even perhaps on impulse, looking for just the right fit of pre-packaged ideas to take home and consume wholeheartedly — after paying at the register of course! Ideologists often are brand switchers. They’ll stick with one package of (non-) thought only until the next one in a shinier package comes along and lures them in. Other ideologists maintain a lifelong brand loyalty!

In the earlier discussion about ideologists using labels to evade challenges, we can say that the self-theorist can easily see — and see past — ideological boundaries of the opponent by watching for examples of ideological thinking such as statements like “Deep Ecology says that...”, “Marxism says that...”, “Gandhi would’ve said that...”. The person under the influence of an ideology, a false consciousness, on the other hand, having constructed these barriers, cannot see out. It has become a wall, a real barrier to advancement, a very un-radical thing to do.

Note also that just as the ideologist isn’t the originator of his/her ideas, so s/he neither claims the credit for them (e.g. “Biocentrism says...”). But here is another example of how the ideologist is mystified. Doctrines, ideologies and the like do not themselves talk and so it is wrong and misleading to say “Biocentrism says...”. Who is Biocentrism? When we begin to ask such questions, we can peel off layers of mystification and confusion like the skin of an onion until we can see what lies beneath: Actually Biocentrism doesn’t say anything. Actual people do and say things such as “Biocentrism this and that...”, not some mystical Biocentrism force or creature. It’s important to uncover the real source of ideas we hold so they can be fully evaluated on their actual content and meaning. If we then really do agree, then we can say “I think this and that...” and the ideas will no longer have control over us. We will control the ideas. Beware the dangers of attributing concrete activity and thinking to abstract concepts or doctrines or slogans.

In response to attacks, the person who engages in ideological thinking and activity simply builds higher and bigger walls. To continue this imagery for a moment longer, we can see that eventually the ideologist will be overwhelmed by the theorist who, being free to think, evaluate and rove around, will eventually find the cracks and weak spots that will bring the whole thing down with little effort. Imagine a guerrilla group with a radical self-theory challenging a monolithic state military force under the grip of a rigid chain of command (external control, ideology). This whole preceding discussion has obvious relevance for anyone engaged in direct subversive resistance — or think they are: ideology creeps up where you’d least expect it. But you can draw you own conclusions on that...

I’ve tried to present a fairly clear and simplified (if not simplistic) picture of what ideological activity is, how it operates and how it can limit us. I’ve tried to contrast that with theory, a better way to understand the world and think and act. What I’ll try to do now is explain how ideology is the death knell of radical change, of humanity, of nature and of the earth and wilderness. I showed at the very beginning how Biocentrism (an ideology, a category of Nature-ally correct thought and activity, a label used to discredit opposing views, an external source of ideas and action, an authority) is premised on the view that humans are separate from nature and act out of human-centeredness (Anthropocentrism) and this is what is destroying the earth. But I also showed that the apparent opposites of Biocentrism and Anthropocentrism both in fact mean the same thing. I said that this dichotomy was resolvable by breaking out of ideological forms of thought. This is what I mean.

I’d like to start with this assertion: Humans are not separate from nature. Our ‘nature’ is that which is most ‘natural’ to us — our deepest needs, desires, dreams, internally defined ideas (self-theory), our emotional wants and expression, our wild, animal instincts. Our human nature is our wild, free animal instinct and subjectivity. This is what is most natural and also what is most human about us since these qualities arise naturally and from within us. ‘Human’ and ‘nature’ are not contradictory, mutually exclusive terms.

Both Biocentrism (life/nature/earth-centred) and Anthropocentrism (human-centrism) mean the same thing, yet one is defined as being opposed to the other. They both are ideologies. They both are external, packaged thought for consumption and directed action. Both have adherents who purport that the ideology must be allowed to do the thinking for us, and that we must act out of motivations it prescribes. Ideological thinking requires that we relinquish our desires, our unpredictability, our ability to change and adapt and submit them to the category, label, doctrine, guru, Bible or, in the case of Biocentrism, to an abstracted Nature; an idea of nature.

When we relinquish our desires and wild animal instincts, we are relinquishing what is most natural, what is most human about us. Ideological thinking (false consciousness, since the thoughts and actions are not our own) is the enemy of nature. It is the enemy of humans because it deprives us of what makes us human — our human nature, our wildness. All authority — since it is ideological, externally imposed — is the enemy of nature and wildness. All domination and obedience kills nature in us, deprives us of our natures by depriving us of our humanity, our dreams, desires and wildness.

This is the mistake of claiming to act or think in the name of something external to us — whether it be Biocentrism, Marxism, Non-Violence, ‘The Cause’, America, Deep Ecology or an abstracted idea of Nature itself. These all kill our unruly, natural wild humanity. To say we are thinking or acting for Deep Ecology of the Earth or Nature or the Spotted Owl is to act for reasons external to us. To do this we must submit our desires to these ideological forms of thought, we must suppress our wildness, individuality — our nature. What a bizarre circumstance, to be risking injury or imprisonment to defend an idea of nature while killing the real living nature in ourselves! Of course, if you are doing/thinking those things for yourself and not killing wildness, not killing nature, not involved in ideological activity, them there is no reason to invoke labels as justifications. Be able to say: “I’m doing this out of my own desires for wildness, for my own human nature (or whatever).” And herein lies the way out of the contradiction.

Both Biocentrism and Anthropocentrism are ideologies and therefore anti-nature. If we act out of Biocentrism we are actually killing our nature, not being nature-centred. If we act out of Anthropocentrism, we are not acting out of our human-centred desires and wild animal instincts. We are acting out of ideological demands. So, Biocentrism is anti-nature and Anthropocentrism is anti-human! So they are both anti-human and anti-nature.

So, big deal? But this becomes critical when we see that it is this same mode of self-denial or self-repression of wildness that allows us to do anti-human activity and anti-nature activity in this society. Biocentrism (and all ideologies), therefore, reinforces this precondition, reinforces our domestication. The actual daily activity, the dominant mode of human existence on the earth today is mislabelled by the Biocentrists. It is not Anthropocentrism, not human-centred. It is not done to meet human needs, not done as a result of the fulfilment of wild human desires. This activity is done to fulfil the needs of power and capital, nation-states and commodity-exchange, the whole military-industrial-national-empire. It should rightly be called production-centred or power-centred or death-centred since we must kill our wild natures to be part of it. Our daily activity is done to keep this ‘Machine’ running. This Machine is what is devouring the earth, nature, wilderness and humanity. To work in the entrails of this ‘leviathan’ requires that we submit all our wildness to the needs, schedules and routines of it. On a daily basis, this is how we individually kill our desire for our nature, our wildness.

To do this, to suppress our own wild, human, animal instincts, we must put on successively think layers of emotional ‘armour’ to protect ourselves from the pain of a murdered nature trying to break through. Like asphalt and herbicide to keep the wild plants from destroying the roadbed, this armour must be constantly added to or it begins to fall away. This armour can also be thought of as the internalisation of the Machine, its logic and schedules. Eventually the armour can be mistaken for what it is suppressing in the same way that so many people today mistake concrete, machinery and media images for the real world. This is the success of the system, the goal of our education, the triumph of Domestication over Wilderness.

It is only such armoured beings, domesticated humans who have internalised the Machine, that would engage in self-destructive/nature-destructive activity. Herein lies the danger of all modes of ideological (pseudo) awareness and activity (of which Biocentrism is but one of many, many). By encouraging us to follow that which is external to us, that which negates our own human wildness and desires, these ways of thinking and acting, help build our emotional armour against nature! They encourage self-repression and domestication. Ideology causes us to further distrust our wild natural instincts to be free. In this way, we are more able to destroy the world while at the same time we are that much less able to transcend and break free from this very mode of destructive behaviour.

What is needed is a subjective, critical, internal-human-nature-centred type of ‘self-theory’ that helps us peel away the mystification surrounding our relation to ourselves, our world and our daily activity. We need to see domestication and suppression of wilderness and freedom clearly and without illusions before we can begin the wild, liberatory celebration of our nature, the creation of planetary wilderness and the pitiless annihilation of everything which stands in the way.

[adhdblues]

Sleep supplements that have actually worked really well for me

Before I start, the supplements I’m referring to are:

- Magnesium L-Threonate - Brand: Life Extension

- L-Theanine - Brand: now

- Apigenin - Brand: Liposomal

I’m sure there are other brands out there which are preferred, these are the ones that were accessible to me based on where I live.

——————

I just wanted to take some time to drop my personal experience/success here in case it can help anyone else who is struggling with sleep.

My whole life has been a struggle with sleep and insomnia. Both before and after I started adhd medication (concerta 54mg). I’ve been diagnosed with adhd about a year ago.

- It would take me at least 2 hours to fall asleep.

- I would wake up multiple times during the night.

- Had very vivid dreams, to the point I had to ask people if something happened in real life or if it was a dream. Mostly anxiety inducing dreams.

- I would be wide awake until sunrise.

My partner has helped me get into an evening routine since we met, which I really appreciated. But still, most of the nights I would experience insomnia, evening anxiety and mind-racing, bad dreams or interrupted sleep.

After listening to Andrew Huberman’s sleep podcast, we both tried to implement some of his tips into our night routine. But I still had sleep issues no matter what routine I tried. I.e restrict phone use prior to bed, dim all the lights to kickstart melatonin production etc.

He then decided to get me these 3 supplements that Huberman recommends for sleep because my overall mental health, sleep and anxiety levels were not great. We had both discussed it and thought it would be nice if I tried a different approach to see what happens.

I had mentioned my sleep struggles and evening anxiety to my psychiatrist multiple times, but his response would be that it’s normal because of adhd, as well as stimulant medication.

Since I started taking the supplements just under 2 months ago, they have honestly been working so well for me. I have considered that it may be placebo, but the outcome has been too good that it’s hard for me to ignore.

I don’t even know when I fall asleep anymore. I’m literally gone shortly after I get into bed — but I don’t feel drowsy prior to that. I have such deep sleep that I now wake up feeling fresh. I used to be a light sleeper, where I would wake up with any sound or movement in the room.

I even feel like it’s improved my brain fog a lot more than just concerta on its own (just a personal observation).

My constant vivid nightmares/dreams have gone away, I honestly can’t recall the last time I woke up to a bad dream. I don’t remember my dreams anymore, but I can’t tell you if i’m just not dreaming or if they’re just not as intense anymore…

No interrupted sleep since starting the supplements.

I have tried melatonin and over the counter sleep-aid, but I never really liked the side effects the morning after. Also melatonin never really helped my sleep quality.

I just wanted to mention it here in case it helps anyone else as well, because I’ve honestly been feeling soooo good and keep thanking my partner for getting me the supplements. I know I would’ve never done it myself out of procrastination.

However, these are just based on my personal experience and I’m not at all saying that everyone else will have the same experiences. I just want to give my review of some sorts, as someone who has adhd and has struggled with sleep, in case anyone has been curious about these or is looking to try something different, specifically for sleep.

I would recommend checking out Huberman’s podcasts on sleep, and adhd as well :)

I just wanted to add that I remember him mentioning that Apigenin could cause vivid dreams for some, but I personally haven’t experienced that until now.

Just make sure to drink enough water since they’re water soluble.

Other supplements that I take (in the morning) that may have some effect on this too:

- ashwagandha (short-term) - Brand: Jarrow Formulas —please do look into it and consult with a profession before trying this, since it can interact with underlying health conditions and medication. Recommended by all sources I have looked at to take it short term. I don’t take it for adhd purposes, I just decided to try it out because of stress and mood. There isn’t enough research to prove its benefits though, just a heads up.

- Algae Omega-3 - Brand: Garden of Life

- B-Complex - Brand: Nature’s Bounty

My day supplements are on and off as I forget to take them for a few days every now and then.

But I’ve tried to stay consistent with the sleep supplements in the last month and a half.

I hope this helps!

[banisheed]

TIMING: Current LOCATION: A Latte To Love PARTIES: Siobhan and Wynne CONTENT: Discussions of cults, ritual sacrifices of flesh, body and animals SUMMARY: Siobhan wears a bone dress and Wynne experiences a case of mistaken identity that rings too close to home.

A dress made out of bones was a stupid, terrible and impractical idea…which was exactly why Siobhan needed to have one. When she’d heard that some wannabe fashion designer had put one together, she was off to steal it. When she realized that the dress was too large to fit in her duffle bag and too annoying to carry, she did what any sensible thief would do: she wore it. Thus began her current predicament: she was right in thinking the dress was impractical but she hadn’t considered just how much the ribcage of a rabbit stabing her asscheeks would hurt. She stumbled down the sidewalk, fatigue stinging the edges of her eyes. She could do this, she just needed a little liquid help. Help that would come in the form of the strongest coffee she could legally order, and maybe a pastry or two. She rattled her way through the doors of the closest coffee shop and up to the counter. “Strong,” she said, as though that was a way anyone ordered coffee. “Very strong. Lots of sugar. Do you do Irish coffee, actually?”

—

Modern fashion was strange and inexplicable, Wynne thought. Back at home, all clothes had been handmade and simple — cotton and plaid and wool. Not quite uniform, but still: there had been a throughline. Out here, though, people seemed to wear a wide array of fabrics, in combinations that dazzled and overwhelmed and most of the time, they were intrigued. They spared what cash they had left on clothing pieces they’d never dreamed of wearing. And sometimes, they thought they were going to get it: and then something like this happened. The patron that entered on this fateful day rattled with her dress and Wynne’s eyes widened. In recognition and surprise and a bit of horror too. It was almost as if they could feel lamb rib bones resting against their collarbones again. Their mouth opened, closed and opened once more. “No.” Wynne frowned at their own reply. “Um, no alcohol, I’m sorry. But we do strong.” 

They stared at their hands for a moment, before punching in the order. They were too easily unsettled, they knew it — but this was too reminiscent. Not that they or the others had ever worn this many bones at once, but still. “Anything else?”

—

“What kind of an establishment doesn’t have alcohol? It’s nearly 8am, you should be serving it.” Siobhan shook her head; humanity was strange and limited by their arbitrary rules. “I will take strong. Make sure it is very strong. If I sense even a little weakness I will complain.” She was joking, just a little, but her expression remained serious. “And no milk, unless it’s sourced from a farm that treats its livestock and-or the land well. But I sincerely doubt it. So, no milk.” Coffee was not something Siobhan drank often, she had other beverages of choice. Though, with enough sugar, coffee became tolerable. She could manage with a little less if she paired it with something sweet. Which did remind her…

“Aye, can I also get a…” Siobhan whipped her hand out to point, freeing one of the bones on her sleeve. It clattered against the counter and rolled to the other side. “Sorry,” she smiled, “can you get that bone for me?” 

—

Of all the lessons Wynne had learned in this so-called real world, dealing with entitled customers was one of the most annoying yet helpful ones. “I know, right?,” they agreed, even if their heart was far from in it. “I’ve told my manager we should get into it.” They nodded at all the requests, swallowing comments on cattle and mass-production of animal products (what a horrible thing!), as Wynne felt like their mind was still playing catch up with the bone attire. 

Not that there was much time to do so, with one of the white-yellow things falling from the dress. Poorly constructed, Wynne gathered. What a waste. They watched the thing clatter on and on before ducking behind the counter to lay their fingers on it, bringing it up. For a moment, it laid on the palm of their hand as Wynne observed its familiarity. “Did you know that femurs are beneficial for spontaneity?” They let it roll to the tips of their fingers, extending it and flushing, slightly. “Keep that safe.”

—

“Then why has your manager not implemented an alcoholic menu?” Siobhan questioned with a harsh seriousness. “I believe you are being disrespected at your position; your manager clearly doesn’t respect your opinions and you should stab them.” She paused. “Sorry, I mean speak to them.” She did not mean that nor did she really care for the plight of minimum wage earning employees, but any change that would get her whiskey at 8am was a victory. If one poor barista had to be sacrificed to get it, then she would sacrifice the damn barista. It was that sort of ambition that had gotten her far in life and also exactly nowhere. 

“I don’t need help with spontaneity,” Siobhan said, then paused again, hand frozen steadily in the air. A silent beat passed through the air, the lazy sounds of the morning muffled between the glass of the shop and the distance to the counter. “How did you know that was a femur?” Humans weren’t so good with their bones and certainly not animal bones—femurs turned to humeri, ulnae to radiuses. She took the femur from their hands, smiling brilliantly. “What’s this?” she asked, pulling another bone off her dress and then another. “Can you tell what animal they’re from too?” This barista wasn’t a fae, she knew, but it didn’t mean that they couldn’t have ties to banshee culture somehow. 

—

They were a bit taken aback by the other’s words, eyebrows creasing. As if going against the wills and wishes of a superior was something Wynne was keen on doing. Despite previous bouts of disobedience, they were still fond of following rules and bending to another’s will. “Oh. Well, maybe I will talk to him about it again.” Not that they had even talked about it in the first place. It seemed this world required a lot of white lies, especially when dealing with customers. They much disliked the insinuation that they were disrespected, however, and tried to let it go by wasting no words on it. 

Wynne had expected that their comment on the bone might have been met with skepticism and confusion. They get skepticism, though the confusion was all theirs when the other smiled and dropped more bones on the counter. While taken aback, they also found themself intrigued, pulled to the familiarity of once-alive things. Remnants of a life lived. “Rabbit.” They cleared their voice, turned one of the bones over with the tip of their finger. “And this is a vertebrae.” A moment of thought, but they’re not sure what kind of vertebrae. They point at the other bone. “Scapula.” That was easy. Wynne remembered the initial question posed and circled back, not out of a wish to answer but rather politeness. “I was taught by my parents.”

—

There were a few explanations for humans that could decipher animal bones from a look: bone hobbyists, veterinarians, hunters (of actual animals) and people who had read the rare classic Animal Bone Identification for the Lazy Banshee. Though, seeing how the book only had one copy and laid unfinished in her grandmother’s study, it probably wasn’t that. And how many of those humans were taught by their own parents? Siobhan was intrigued. “Does your family scream a lot?” she asked. “Were you taught the old ways?” How long had it been since she’d spoken to a banshee or banshee-related-family-member-who-will-probably-be-used-for-ritual-sacrifice (a BRFMWWPBUFRS for short)? Too many years; she’d fallen out of touch with the euphemisms. Too tired to spare a moment for reflection, Siobhan pulled her glove off and revealed the thick scar line across her palm. “Did you give blood too?” Siobhan wasn’t one for politeness, she could be cordial if the whim struck her but, after decades of mingling with humanity, the whim didn’t strike her very often. “I’m surprised you’ve lived this long, you look to be…what? In your early 20s? Did they not take your life yet? Or are you…” Maybe they didn’t know; a few BRFMWWPBUFRS’s were raised with the knowledge of their necessary gift to their sisters or daughters, but most were not. Humans didn’t like knowing that they were going to die, after all. 

“I’m sorry,” Siobhan shook her head, pulling her glove back on. She wasn’t a banshee anymore, not like she used to be. Rules and traditions and secrecy were no longer meant to be in her vocabulary. It was for that reason that she didn’t think to temper her thoughts. “Did you run away, is that it?” 

—

They should have lied. It could have been easy to say that they were a student in the field of animal biology or something of the sort, but Wynne had somehow offered a nugget of truth and now there was question after question. They knew their eyes were growing wide, that the trepidation that spread through them must be noticeable — they just weren’t sure how to stop it from happening. The questions were simply too pointed, too fitting for the life they had tried to abandon for them not to have some kind of reaction.

Mouth opened and closed. They nodded, “I was taught the old ways. We screamed, sometimes.” How they had screamed! Of euphoria and rage and laughter, around bonfires and dressed in dead things or even in nothing at all. Wynne tended to forget that, that they had been loud once. Their eyes were glued to the scar on the other’s hand and they shook their head, as if to say no, not yet, I was meant to give my blood, all of it, but I refused. Something in them resisted answering out loud, as if doing that would be to acknowledge that there was something true here. They tried instead to focus on ringing up the other, but the idea of asking her to pay for her coffee seemed ludicrous now.

The scar disappeared from view, hidden by cloth. The bones still remained on the counter, though. Wynne laid them in the correct order through force of habit. “How do you know?” Their voice was quieter now. Defensive, in a way. “I don’t know you.” Their gaze leveled with the other, wide-eyed yet unwavering. They weren’t sure if they were talking to the other or themself. “So how could you possibly know? Are you here to collect?” But was this it, was this where it would happen? In the coffee shop Wynne hated and loved, at the beginning of a long shift? Surely not — it would be a lousy way to meet their reckoning. “I didn’t run away. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

—

The emotions that danced on the barista’s face were a shock to Siobhan just as much as it seemed her words were a surprise to them. She nodded as they went on: yes, the old ways. Yes, the screaming. And finally, yes, collection. Siobhan eyed the barista up and down, surveying the angle of their jaw and the curve of their ears. She’d been expecting a banshee, but what did she really know about Regis? She knew Regis had run away from Saol Eile and nothing more; she was issued a command and servants didn’t ask for clarification. Siobhan’s smile sharped, a knife’s edge on either side. “I was gone before you were born but I will return again, with you, to serve Death as our birthright dictates.” Siobhan held her hands out, palms up, smiling frigidly; there was no space in her to hold warmth for an insolent, ungrateful and selfish idiot. 

Her gaze moved to the swing door at the end of the counter and then to the counter itself. Should she jump over or run to the side? Siobhan stared up at the barista. “Look at how you debase yourself here. You are worth more than this. You abandoned your duty to Fate and Death and still, even a coward like you is better than all these animals. You have a place in this world. You ought to serve it.” Her hands snapped into fists as a tremor erupted across her body; a flare of anger. Regis didn’t know how good they had it. Siobhan’s penance didn’t include playing pretend at a human job with soft, unmarred skin and freshly baked goods. She lived in damp alleys. She endured the phantom pain of old punishments. She had to live with an ugliness that could never be uprooted. But together--tethered by cosmic forces beyond them--they’d been granted an opportunity for atonement. 

She leaned across the counter, betraying desperation. “Take your place as the prodigal child then,” she pleaded softly. “Be received again among our family. We can reach absolution together, child.” Perfection stood just one false marble countertop away. If the barista wouldn’t come willingly, SIobhan would make them. “Come home.”

—

Wynne’s mind returned to that state it was often in: attempting to play catch up. As if life moved just a little too fast for them. As if they weren’t supposed to be here — which might be true enough. They should be ashes and bones, drained and immortalized in oil paint like all those before them. Or if not that, they should be further west or south, not in the same state, stuck in a place that had appealed to them for reasons that seemed unjustifiable now. They felt their hands fall slack to their sides, the cash register and all others in the store forgotten. Their heart climbed up in their throat. 

Rationality was hard to come by as Wynne imagined this stately woman taking hold of them. They were only a few hours away from the lake. And there had been stories of deserters returning, hollow-eyed and starving — but Wynne was doing fine, no demon had come knocking, no end-of-the-world had occurred. The lake still stood. They shook their head, uncharacteristically adamant. “It’s too late. How can I serve my purpose now, when the time has passed? I rejected it. I won’t go back. There’s no use.” The blue moon had occurred and here they were, still breathing. Maybe there was a hint of regret in their tone, as this half-life so often felt hard to live: but it was being lived. Better the uncertainty of what was to come than the certainty of being dead.

And yet here was the word absolution, that promised word. A biblical word, that the elders sometimes spat on and sometimes dangled over their heads. God would never grant them as much, but Gythraul might, if they did what was asked. Wynne was quiet for a moment, before their voice betrayed them. “So they’re alive?” Their tone small, eyes inquisitive, perhaps hopeful — there was no way that they’d be received kindly, but if they were alive, they might be okay. “They’re okay? My family?” 

—

“There is always time,” Siobhan smiled; she was doing her best to remain friendly. If she thought too long, too much, about Regis she would remember how much the idea of Regis made her skin crawl. All the things she had ever wanted, all the things she had broken herself for were things Regis had abandoned. And why? Didn’t Regis want perfection? Didn’t Regis want love? Home was the only place for people like them to be. Siobhan had been cast out, Regis had left. “For people like us--children of powerful forces--there is always a space for us at our home. We can go there, you and me, we can become whole again and serve our higher purpose. Isn’t that what you want?” Siobhan reached out again, eager to take the barista’s hands in her; the woman of Soal Eile often had, screaming in unison. “Don’t you seek atonement? Don’t you want to be in the place where you belong? With the people who understand you? These humans…they don’t know what it’s like to be us. They don’t know how wonderful life can be--how our bodies can be used to serve Fate. They don’t understand us, they never will. Come home.”

The barista’s worries gave Siobhan pause. Regis didn’t seem like the type to be concerned about the family they abandoned; why abandon them at all then? “I don’t know,” Siobhan sighed. “I assume…” She swallowed hopelessly at the lump that had formed in her throat. When she had betrayed Fate, her mother’s reputation was on the line. Daughters were nothing but extensions of their mothers, after all. And she had made the only decision a sensible mother could make: punish the daughter. “I don’t know, honestly. I would think…I would guess that they are…we won’t really know unless you…” Siobhan let the answer hang in the air like a guillotine. “I was told to bring you back, I can assume that they wouldn’t have bothered with that at all if your family wasn’t alive and waiting.” Siobhan’s head hung low; an honesty escaped her lips. “My mother..when I…” Her body caved in on itself and she shrunk, imagining the lanky girl that she used to be. “I was insolent; disobedient. The punishment was for me, not for her, and she cleaned herself of my sins. She is alive. She is well. So is my family. Perhaps yours is too? We look out for our kind, don’t we?”

—

They had once been good at keeping their face slack, at removing all emotions from it. Wynne had sat front-row at rituals, decorated with bones and flowers and leaves, looking tranquil as ever. Emotion had not betrayed them then, but that was when they had still easily buried it. Now it raised through their body, painting their face with confusion. They did not touch the other’s hands, staring at them instead. “The betrayer’s moon has come and gone, it’s too late.” It was too late to think of returning, to think of atonement, to consider that there was still a home to return to. Wynne swallowed. “You lie.” The words are uttered in a defiance they’d not often shown their elders, back home. Was this woman like them? Someone so wise, so well-read when it came to scripture, fluent in Welsh and all things gythraul? If so, why hadn’t Wynne ever met them? “What is there for me? Not life. Sacrifice? You want me to return home just to live with my impending death? There’s no atonement. It’s too late.” It would be a decade before the next human sacrifice. A new child had already been chosen. Wynne had held Gawain’s hands plenty of times, sat in the knowledge they both shared: that their sole purpose was to live long enough to die. “I don’t belong there.”

But how could Wynne be immune to all of this? The promise of home, the image of their parents and brother still alive and willing to welcome them with wide arms? Their breathing was shallow, their stomach tense. “What do you mean, you don’t know? You must know if they’re all dead or not. You have to —” Their mouth closed before desperation could make their words tumblr out in quick succession. There was truth in the other’s words: there was no way to know unless Wynne went back to the lake and saw for themself. They hadn’t, for months. “Who told you to bring me back?” It had to have been one of the elders. Their head shook, their eyes wide as the other seemed to betray emotion herself. Wynne wanted to cry, felt it gather in their throat. How they missed this sense of kinship and community the other spoke of. “You’re not like me. It’s different. No matter why you were cast out, and I’m sorry that you went through that, but it’s not the same.” Their bottom lip trembled. “When have they ever looked out for me? You’re lying.”

— 

Siobhan had no idea what a ‘betrayer’s moon’ was, but all banshee lineages were a little different. Hers was millennia old and they had strange words for a number of things, even as they tried to modernize themselves. “You would know if I was lying—I would get hives.” Siobhan rolled her eyes, losing her patience for Regis’ antics; she ought to reach across the table and drag them back home. Yet, as the barista went on, Siobhan’s fists stopped trembling with rage. Impending death? The thought tickled her mind. Again, she looked over at the barista, eyeing them from the top of their head to the end of their apron. “Ah…” The recognition burst in her eyes, wide with the reality that laid before her. “So you are a BRFMWWPBUFRS then? I didn’t want to assume but…” Of course, the acronym when spoken sounded like jumbled nonsense and so Siobhan realized she should clarify. “They planned on killing you for someone else’s awakening?” It was true that all banshees were women. It was more true that not all banshees gave birth to daughters. What became of the other children? The idea nauseated Siobhan and as she stared at Regis, she realized just how young they were. Her family believed strongly that the children should never be taken, that was why you had fathers and friends. Not all families thought the same. What good was a BRFMWWPBUFRS except for the ‘ritual sacrifice’ part of that acronym? 

The reality of their life was grim but what did it matter to Siobhan? She dreamed of this day; fantasized the sensation of her wings against her back again. She told herself that the cost didn’t matter, she would return and become whole again. Regis was so young. But who cared? Regis had life yet to live. But why should that stop her? Everyone had their role to fulfill. “You have a duty to Death.” Regis would serve theirs by dying, giving way to the world’s next banshee. Siobhan didn’t care that they looked to be in their early 20s at best. It didn’t bother her that they had feared their fate so much that they ran away. “Yes, normally people like you are expected to live more of a life and have a family but if your death needs to come early then it should and that…” Siobhan’s voice cracked. She swallowed. The barista was right, she had been lying. She said any cost was well worth it. “I won’t take you back.” But she couldn’t justify this. “Not unless your family can reach some agreement. You’re too young and it’s not right to take the child. It was my mother who instructed me to come for you, Regis, though she gave me no details. Yes, I am not like you. I am a woman. I screamed. But I have no intention of sending you to an early grave for a question that can be easily answered by patricide or getting your sister—or niece or cousin or what have you—to make a friend. Really, there’s no reason you, specifically, have to die.” 

—

The way the woman held herself so casually and yet so tight with anger made Wynne hesitant, but their confusion won over time and time again. It was as if from the moment they’d run off and started asking questions, it had become second nature. To question everything. “A what?” It’s not really curiosity any more, but rather desperate confusion. Something wasn’t matching up, was it? ��No, not for an awakening — we don’t subscribe to ideas of enlightenment, or any of that. I was to die in order …” They took a deep, shaky breath in, closing their eyes for a moment. They forbade their mind to go to these places most days, years of repression having made Wynne into a skilled escape artist when it came to their own feelings. “Because gythraul demanded it, because we needed to appease It.” It was impossible to say, it seemed, that it would have been for the betterment of their community — either the other knew and could see through their selfish lies, or they didn’t and Wynne could keep their evilness to themself. They swallowed. “Because it was time.” The betrayer’s moon had been close, the night of their abandonment. A waxing moon bright in the sky. It had been hungry and Wynne had been too.

Something seemed to settle. Like the ashes after a bonfire, falling on the center yard of the commune, the rest after rage. Wynne wasn’t sure whether it was a good or bad change and so held onto their breaths tightly. They wished to open their mouth, to exclaim that they did not want to die yet, that it was cruel and unfair that it was demanded of them — that the world still turned and they still breathed and no creature had risen from the cracks of the earth or descended from the sky to take them. But they’d learned not to petition for their own needs long ago and so they only did it quietly. And then things did settle, the woman reaching a conclusion that made Wynne’s breath slip from their mouth. “You’re not making sense. If they sent you, then you ought to know that it can only be me, that it should have happened already.” They shake their head, breathing in and pushing a hand against their collarbone to center themself. Wynne was distantly growing aware that perhaps not everything they had been taught was based in truth, or at least that there was more to it: but what their life had led up to was true, wasn’t it? “It is always a child! It has been that way for three hundred years. There is no agreement: there’s just me, alive, gone from them.” They shake their head again, look up with wide, fixed eyes. “I won’t go back.” The bridge was burned. Its ashes had settled.

—

Fainche Dolan had a theory about the world: all lives were tangential to each other, creating a dizzying pattern of never-ending curves and long dark lines. She swore that she could see it in the sky some days but most days she was lost along its winding trails, searching for the lives that were meant to meet hers. Siobhan never took anything her grandmother said seriously. Her mother asserted that Fainche wasn’t right in the head, whatever that meant. Siobhan had grown up watching the woman flagellate herself over dinner, the constant whip crack and tearing of flesh found a rhythm over the steady beat of forks against shitty paper plates. Fainche was troubled, yes, but she was also right. No one experience was wholly unique. All of it was tangential. Siobhan could see it now and with only a little embarrassment that she hadn’t noticed it sooner. 

Siobhan didn’t know a Gythraul and the children didn’t always die and an awakening was a concept so deeply related to the core of being a banshee that to deny it wasn’t just foolish, it meant that the person she was talking to wasn’t talking about the same thing. And, of course, their way of living was much, much older than 300 years. This person wasn’t Regis, but they were something so terribly similar that even now, even after she had cleared the fog of confusion from her own mind, they were still making sense. Siobhan laughed. Her head tilted up to the ceiling and she clutched her stomach, rattling all the bones on her dress. She exploded with laughter, she barked with it. She made the glass tremble around her and didn’t care. When she was done, she swiped at a tear that had formed in the corner of her eye. “You were going to die to appease someone named Gythraul!” Siobhan clutched the end of the edge of the counter. “Gythraul! What a stupid name. Doesn’t that just mean devil? The name’s not even original. That’s so embarrassing for you.” Siobhan shook her head, taking the bones off the counter. “Can you imagine if you died for some cretin named Gythraul? I think I would sooner perish from the humiliation of ever worshiping a Gythraul.” 

Siobhan, now with the bones in her hand, shook them quickly in the air. “Look, if I know anything about groups of people that worship entities that call themselves the devil, or some such nonsense, it doesn’t matter who dies. No one is that special. So you can…” She waved the bones around some more. “…rest easy knowing that your life doesn’t matter at all and that you’re going to die having worked as a barista in a coffee shop that doesn’t even serve alcohol at 8am. I’m sure Gythraul just ate someone else, or whatever happens there. Oh! Is that why you were asking about your family? Yes, maybe Gythraul ate them.” She’d meant all that as a reassurance, as the easy smile and bright tone of voice was meant to convey. 

—

The other laughed, the entire shop shaking with her disrespect and Wynne wasn’t sure what shook them more: the threat of being dragged home or the way the other spat on Gythraul so easily. Back at home, such behavior would be met with repercussions the Protherians didn’t speak of but all knew about. There was no questioning the lack of name, the lack of details, the way there was no proof that any of this was necessary. To ask was to cause dissent and to cause dissent amongst a society that functioned so well with its hands clasped together? Well, that simply made no sense. And if one were to cross that line, they never would again.

“It’s not Its name, it’s Its title,” Wynne said, their voice more strong now. They might have run from the demon’s demands, but that did not mean they had abandoned all their respect in the same move. It still remained to be a powerful being that had granted fortune to their family over the centuries, after all. They stared at the other and her ignorance, the way she put it so blatantly and proudly on display. Another heathen, like so many others — but one Wynne found easier to condemn. 

It would be so easy to lose themself in judgment, though. To revert to the old ways and to look down on all those who thought the Protherians fools. To spit on them and their naivete. But Wynne’s customer seemed knowledgeable, somehow. “What do you know, of communities that worship demons? Of sacrifice?” Their legs felt shaky, their fingers itching with the need for more knowledge and the equally strong fear of receiving it. They knew that there were repercussions for their abandonment – there simply had to be – but what they were was a truth Wynne had avoided. And yet here was a stranger, alluding that their family might have paid the price. How realistic a thought. Wynne forgot, momentarily, that their family had been content to watch them die too as their fingers were closing around the fake marble counter. “Who are you?” A beat. “I need to know. For the order.” A half-truth.

—

“Oh, it’s a title,” Siobhan laughed again, stifling the sound with her hand. “That’s even worse. Did your people bestow it upon Gythraul or did Gythraul do it? Because in one scenario that’s cute--” she emphasized the word sharp sweetness, equal parts patronizing and delighted. “--and in the other it’s just sad.” Siobhan picked at a piece of lint that had gotten stuck between two of the bones on her dress, stuffing the ones she was holding into her convenient dress pocket. As the barista went on, it occurred to the banshee that her conversation partner wasn’t thrilled. She couldn’t tell what emotion it was: fear masquerading as anger, ignorance playing into the hands of stubbornness. Could someone who abandoned a demon still hold its name in reverence? Siobhan cocked her head to the side, eyeing the barista.

Her lips curled upwards. “Of sacrifice, I know everything--” It was a hard statement to make as a fact, but Siobhan thought of it as the truth. She had been birthed into sacrifice, forged by it, watched it given over and over again. Every breath she took was a sacrifice she made; every word came with a cost to her. She had already been broken into shards and offered out bit by bit. What remained was not a woman, not a person, but an instrument belonging to higher powers. What did she know of sacrifice? It was a cruelty to be asked. Siobhan tore her gloves off, showing the thick scars across both of her palms once more. Slowly, she turned them over to reveal the scars that ribboned the back of her hands; the webbing across her knuckles, the carving of another’s initials on her right hand, the rivers of scars that ran without purpose and the valleys of once-perfect skin that were hidden between them. “There are ways to sacrifice a life that don’t involve death; there are avenues of worship that you cannot fathom. Every so often, a group of people like you emerges, worshiping some person or demon or idea. Sometimes the thing you fear is real, sometimes it isn’t. Eventually you fall away, the world forgets you and the thing you held with such reverence. Or your demon gets bored. But what I am? What I worship? It is always here. It will always be here. You’re not special.” 

Siobhan squeezed her hands into fists. “Siobhan. Spelt like--” Siobhan’s fingers unfurled. “You know what? Just spell it however you want.” 

—

They fought hard to keep their cheeks from flushing with indignation and shame. Wynne could make no sense of it, their shame in leaving the commune and how it went hand in hand with their need to defend it. “It’s just Welsh. It’s just what we call It. Its true name is only reserved for a few to know, that’s just common sense.” They would have known it, on that fateful day they escaped. It would have been their job to summon It by name, speak those secret syllables to let It know the hour was there. And then the knife would have come down and they’d have bled and never even seen it.

Their head shook in response to the others’ answer. “No, I mean — you said it wouldn’t matter to a demon, who dies? What do you mean, I’m not special?” Wynne was unable to hide their desperation, their stomach growing as tight as ever. They weren’t supposed to heed the opinions of others in regards to all of this, but the woman seemed far from ignorant. And they had always stood in the shoes of a follower, someone who took the words of their elders as truth. There had been so few guiding hands these past months. Besides, this mattered, if it was true. If they weren’t special, if their death could have been replaced by any other young or even old body … it was something their mind had played with before, the question of why them. They had asked it and met the repercussions and then never asked again. More importantly, and perhaps more harrowingly: neither had their parents. Wynne’s thoughts circled around that thought as they stared at the scars on the other’s hands. “What do you worship?” This was asked more quietly, with a trepidation. “Why would it demand this?” Even if this kind of sacrifice didn’t demand death, why did it have to exist in the first place? Wynne was tired of the thought of bleeding for another. In their naive mind, the fatigue extended to the marred skin of a customer. Even if she scared them.

Wynne took a paper cup, not bothering to ask if the other wished to have the coffee for here or to takeaway. Takeaway it would be. They wrote down Siân before starting the process of grinding beans. “I know how it’s spelled.”

—

Siobhan stared at the hypocritical creature in front of her--the compromised morals, the twisted loyalties. Why run away if they were still going to defend their little community? She watched them cling to whatever respectability they could. She saw something of herself there: how she still held her head high, spoke of fae like she belonged among them. Her body flared. She looked away. “Do you think a demon really cares who dies for it? Do you? If a train is rushing forward, does it matter who you’ve tied to its tracks? If a hungry lion needs to eat, do you think it cares what body its teeth sink into? Would a demon really care? What makes you so special? What stars were you born under that someone else could not see as well?” Siobhan faced them again. “No one is special in the gaze of Death. No one is special under the order of Fate. We are all the same, in the end. Just bodies.” Siobhan knew; she’d made this mistake before. She’d believed someone could be special--she believed Fate would acquiesce. She was wrong. This barista was wrong now. To be special was blasphemy. 

“I worship Fate, Death, nature, the turn of the world and my place in it. A nebulous concept. To assign an understanding to Fate or Death would be a disservice; those forces do not act with intention. They command. They take. I give.” Siobhan pulled her gloves back on. “Fate demands nothing, Death demands nothing; to demand is to possess desire, of which they do not. These are actions taken to assure that I am serving as faithfully as I can. In truth, I can be devout without ever spilling my blood--but I can give more like this. Fate and Death exist without me, I am not so special that they require my sacrifice specifically. I am nothing but a servant to them. It is my place to be.” Her hands fell to her sides. “Or I was. I will be, again, one day. Properly.” She looked up. “Is my coffee done?”

—

Wynne felt something twist and pull in their stomach. These were just observations spoken by a stranger, ones they should disregard and not even ask after — but they scratched an itch they had been trying to ignore for months, if not years. They had purged themself of their questioning nature, bending curiosity into something more palatable. The elders could be cruel in their guidance, when met with too much skepticism. “I was born after a betrayer’s moon, that’s what marked me and –” The sentence died on their tongue. Wynne placed the cardboard cup under the espresso machine, working on the big coffee the other had requested in what by now seemed another day. If this stranger’s words were true and there was nothing about their flesh, their being, their life that was special then someone else was dead, now. Then it made sense, why the earth hadn’t ripped in two or goat’s hooves hadn’t followed them down here or there was no word of a massacre up at the lake. They found no words to answer, all energy spent on keeping their hands from trembling.

The customer’s beliefs hit close to home too, the way she spoke of the turn of the world and how people stood outside its ways. But their religion had always been marked by desire and demand. Corwyn Prothero had demanded something and so gythraul had demanded something in return and on and on the cycle went. They were just a chip in a game. “What is it called, what you believe in?” It was the only response Wynne could come up with. Their head felt light. “I hope you can return to it.” Another thing said distantly, as if it echoed. They weren’t sure if they meant it. Maybe they were all better off without any of this, like the rest of the world seemed to be. “Almost.” The smells of freshly brewed coffee were filling the air, the machine churning on. 

They pulled the cup from underneath it, placing a lid on top and sliding it towards the other. It took a moment before they realized they weren’t quite done yet. “Cash or card?”

—

“Do you believe that your birth charts the course of your life?” Siobhan asked as though she didn’t believe the same principle. Her birth, during a war to a banshee, marked the course of her life so inextricably that the roadway of it haunted her. She knew what she was, what she was to become and what essence prescribed her meaning. She was not a woman, not a coffee drinker, she was the same as the girl who had been born under the stars in 1917; she was a tool of Death and a follower of Fate. Never once did her life deter from its goal, and eventually, she would return to it as though she had never left.

“I said already; I worship Fate,” Siobhan answered plainly. “Death. Their core essences and their unchanged presence. I worship the natural world and its proceedings. Not a name; not a face. Just this that already rules our lives.” The weight of it pressed against her shoulders; it dug in and made a home in her flesh. For so long, she had been banished from her people, but to them that was only a droplet in the span of their lives. She would go back. She would forget this encounter, as she would anything that happened in this unimportant town. “To live under the rule of a higher power is our calling, isn’t it? What do our lives matter anymore?” Siobhan stared at the barista, waiting for something that never came. 

Across the counter, Siobhan slid the femur they had identified earlier. “For spontaneity,” she laughed before she grabbed her coffee and wiggled out of the shop--her dress was hard to move in, after all. She had to go one leg after the other and looked more like a crab than a humanoid. 

She trusted that the barista understood that it wasn’t a matter of cash or the card she clearly had in her pocket, but the things that needed to be done to cling to an identity that faded with each passing day.

[lordelmelloi2]

kiara

Sexuality Headcanon: Omnisexual. Its Kiara. She could fuck a computer fully

Gender Headcanon: Oh my god, its Kiara. Shes over there eating mermaid flesh. "THIS IS WHAT GOOD PUSSY SOUNDS LIKE *GEIGER COUNTER GOING CRAZY*", literally indescribable

A ship I have with said character: HansKiara, KamaKiara. KiaraRose is the bad end

A BROTP I have with said character: I don't think Kiara is capable of being "bros" with somebody. I do not believe she has it in her to do "bro" things.

A NOTP I have with said character: Hmmm. A lot of pairings with Kiara I think would be ill-fated, because I think Kiara is actually quite delicate and people would mishandle her, or try to get with her solely for sex reasons, and she's much more ladylike than that and secretly desires to be treated more humanely even if she is the way she is. To be honest I'm not fond of many GudaKiara things in any regards. I'm also pretty tired of the "putting Kiara and King Hassan in the same room and seeing what happens" sex jokes to be honest, I think King Hassan has the sight to see that Kiara is much more pathetic than she leads on but Kiara would become like a hissing kitten in his presence rather than joking about fucking him.

A random headcanon: Kiara can make games. Kiara is secretly the backbone of the gaming club in Chaldea because no one realizes that a decent amount of indie productions in Chaldea are through her computer. Kiara's the backbone of a lot of the hardware and software engineering parts of Chaldea (LOL hard and soft ware JOAKE) simply because people asked nicely and she said yes and was watched very closely to make sure she wasn't installing anything she could take advantage of. Because of her capabilities she's always getting approached for programming help all the time to the point where she openly sighs in exhaustion whenever someone comes to her with a problem. It's very funny to see her run ragged for once despite being a super wizard class A hacker

General Opinion over said character: I love Kiara, I think she has a lot of depth and nuance and she's not as evil as people think. I think people enjoy using her as a scapegoat because her character does feature a lot of sexuality, she's the original Beast-Whore where her sexuality is a feature of the evilness she's meant to represent. But I think she's a lot more detailed than just being evil and wanting to have sex. Because there's her background which reveals she's been basically traumatized and fucked up her entire life, and you can tell in the way she acts that she wants to try to reclaim some of the innocence she was denied in her childhood, although her method of approaching it is twisted because, again, she's been screwed over her entire life. But I also think there's more to her than even just those things, I think her capabilities as a hacker should be explored in a legitimate sense, I think her competencies deserve examination. In the Fate/Extra SERAPH manga the ideal, flawless society she created literally was a society in which there was no discrimination for the way people where, and on top of that, it was first in the medical field and had cured several diseases and had pioneered research in medical techniques and even for therapy techniques so people could live and survive. And it was all presented as legitimate. Maybe I have the wool pulled over my eyes, but I think it's intriguing that a woman who was bedridden and abused her entire life, when finally using her power as a savior and a leader decides to create a society where people will no longer have to suffer under their diseases or traumas and are given the tools and resources to make it happen......

[trentskis]

i do agree with what u said in ur post bc to act like any team needs to bend over and drop everything for arsenal’s fight for the prem is very unrealistic and honestly kind of strange but also the helping city win the league idea comes from the fact that players were specifically rested for this game in particular and not the chelsea one on tuesday, which if that same incredible level of football was played then would have levelled chelsea and gotten two extra points already. i think ppl saying that liverpool want man city to win the league is very counter productive but at the same time there was a clear game that was prioritised over the other with a much weaker side and i can understand why arsenal fans would attribute a bias against them bc of that. anyway these were just my thoughts and i hope this came across respectfully, i think ur insights are very realistic and non confrontational in a space where people jump down each others throats all the time, and thats a very valuable thing to offer any community. hope u had a nice easter if u celebrate :)

i more have a problem with people implying we are intentionally helping city to win the league rather than it just being a consequence of the result of that game, like yes it did help city but its not like we did it for that reason, we are really struggling to win games atm so of course we are going to fight as much as we can, for ourselves and to advance up the table, not for anyone else.

to me it sort of made sense to rest the stronger players v chelsea, chelsea are in really inconsistent form and so are we, so maybe jurgen thought we might have been able to come away w more than we did against them with a weaker side. but of course we are going to bring out a stronger side against the league leaders. i imagine every other team is doing the same and has been doing the same with city, its not anything to do w the fact that its arsenal specifically, its the fact that they are top of the league and the strongest side in the prem right now, and so u obv need a strong side to try and challenge that. like. obviously that is going to be a hard match and we would need our best players. idk why ppl are only saying it about liverpool when every other team has been playing their strongest team against arsenal bcus of course they are, arsenal are in amazing form. liverpool desperately need points atm and that was the best players for us to even try and get some, and even then we only got a draw.

idk i just hate the pov that we're doing it for anyone but ourselves nevermind fuckin CITY GKFKGK

[spikeinthepunch]

Accessible Theory

neocities is running a bit slow right now, so i decided to crosspost this from my website.

Fair warning, I am not entirely sure where this blog post may go, and I am operating of of my own knowledge... which I feel is still expanding on this topic.

Recently I just caught wind of what was going on with Yesterweb (the site/community). Yesterweb is something sadgrl.online started that gave insight to the concept of the 'indie web' most people refer to and many read the manifesto located there that inspired them. I hadn't run into that site myself when I made my own, but I know it was a pretty significant drive for many to move to neocities. I mention my lack of seeing it at first because I basically did not touch the social communities at all, I wasn't on the forum or discord etc.

This blog isn't about Yesterweb- not fully, and I don't want to make it all about the shutdown because again, I wasn't there when this problem was blooming. But, it brought many thoughts to mind.

Again as I say, whatever thoughts I express here were brought to my mind because of what I read but, none of this is directed at how the mods handled this. (And i also completely undeniably understand the need to shut down such massive, hard to control social spaces simply from that perspective too).

When I heard about what was going on I went to the forum, and saw how it was read-only. I went to the last announcement thread to get some insight and its turned into me reading the incredibly lengthy 3 page thread probably with thousands and thousands of words at this point. Once I started seeing some more mod input explaining things I knew I wanted to get even more insight on the thoughts not about the shut down itself but the intention of Yesterweb itself. Because even outside of that site, I felt like there was just something... there was something being missed, some unidentified, that just wasn't being taught or spoken.

A conflicting read I couldn't grasp was this sentiment that the idea of such a movement couldn't be spoke straight forwardly in a "this is our idea and what we are doing" because people could hear the ideas expressed and misinterpret it and this makes sense. This is something I do understand- you can explain a complex idea of theory and someone could understand it some other way, and in terms of a movement that could open up to people saying "wait, i thought you meant this?" I get that as I see it play out time and time again (and I know I have fallen into issues of the same thing in other communities), but at the same time the idea of letting things sit in the air and hope the energy pushed by you for the movement....catch on somehow without it spoken? I guess? That people will come to getting the implications you have about sub cultures and counter cultures, Marxist theories, commercialism...

I sit here reading threads and discussions like this and cant help but question "where do i start?" and thats something i would want to hear in that kind of community, you know? and it was hard to see if that was ever done in that space. There is always a divide between those already intent to lead a revolution because they have the knowledge to apply to it in a useful way and those who could but just... dont have the intellectual knowledge? I think we all know those people arent stupid- i think we all know there are loads who would start to follow that idea but as a person who feels like they are in that category, I feel like I am sitting in the dark unable to partake in a movement I would gladly join, or even just feel like what I am doing, isn't what it should be.

Because I don't understand most of what is talked about there. I feel like i know what we want in that kind of movement but hell if I understand the kind of political theory those "above me" so strongly applied behind the scenes.

There is where i think of 'accessible theory' though terms used very loosely to gather my feeling. I know it sounds counter productive to bring this question to the empty crowd of a blog, "How am I supposed to find the knowledge on all these things you apply to this kind of movement?" one would want to say 'google it' but I think we all know full well the biased and sometimes useless nature of current search engines, which makes it harder to dive into the deep end. And even more so, where do I go to engage and find a community? One that... would also have levels of discussion that wouldnt alienate me.

The inability to identify the theory and the ideas is the biggest hurdle to me. If i was reading this thread and someone hadn't said "this is about sub culture versus counter culture" I wouldn't have know, and its right for them to say people wouldn't know but, what the hell are you to do other than to educate if that is whats missing? if someone hadn't said they were applying Marxist theory to the inner workings of their decisions in the movement i would have no damn clue, because I can't recognize Marxism. I can see full well how certain things came into play with a movement like the Yesterweb, and why somethings arent outright stated but where do you balance straightforward teaching and unspoken natural growth?

I know like the many others who joined that community that I would be pulled in my nostalgia and I don't think any of them were saying that alone was bad, but the idea that those who were did not know or apply the knowledge they were applying themself in order to become that 10% who understood, feels like it brushes off the potential these people would have if they were given the readable resources for these topics. There is a point I feel where that walls needs to be broken down and the unease of people interpreting your statement differently when stated bluntly at least leaves a higher amount of people having learned anything at all- that they can at least apply to a radical movement in whatever way they want that they couldn't before. Though again- I don't intend for people to read this as me pointing my finger at Yesterweb in particular- this is a sentiment I have had for a long time.

A recent post on tumblr that was fitting in time for my reads of the forum brought to mind this a bit more, just in the topic of consuming non-fiction. I think the 'lack of knowledge' on some of these political theories etc in younger people is that and many other things. For one, I also have majorly consumed fictional media above all, and most of my leaning to left ideas spawned from many things I thought about after consuming said media. This isn't bad of course- fictional media is easier to take in and the fact it feeds many's drive to change and learn is fantastic. But as that post outlines, its limiting. Fictional media is 1) made by a biased creator who also consumed these ideas and are feeding them back to you 2) the fictional media itself (even more when applied to mainstream media) is often worked into whatever framework is acceptable before being put out (cartoons often getting censored for kids, networks in general denying many aspects of an episode's script, etc). And so, the point towards non-fiction is important, and I think for a lot of those who fell in the category that was not the '10%' that the Yesterweb hoped to have were often people like that, and while I don't feel I blindly fall into that category, i know I have been there and grew there and was still left directionless in how to change this about myself.

I can, and have, picked up your expected books to read even as they often sit unread right now. I have been diving deep into all the discussions people have had across the YW forum etc consuming whatever the hell is being said and hoping this sticks in my head. I don't write this article to point my finger at Sadness or whoever else and yell "please, you need to show me what to do!"

but I sometimes feel helpless and uneducated in front of the undefined "You" that i refer to in my head. I LOVE The political direction people took from web revival even as it is not all of them. I AM driven and determined to keep this mindset no matter how little I feel I know on the deeper things I could apply. I WANT that to change and I will do my best to see it through, really. I was not involved directly in YW community and I hope this blog doesn't come off like a jab at them as I simply wanted to bounce off my internal frustrations in feel 'lesser than' when it comes to topics I feel I still am learning about. What the YW brought up for many is so incredibly important and I think we all need to remember the real intention behind "web revival" which isn't that its just nice to have a pretty website that looks like it came out of the 90s. We are doing this for more than that and we always should be.

Consider the above more an analysis on what I felt was missing. How I felt I was missing something (and maybe still feel I am). Sometimes you need to vent, right?

As always, if you want to contact me about this blog, email me! Especially if you have thoughts to reach out about starting on learning more about what I speak of here.

[mastomysowner]

The sad tale of the Kurozumi Family

If things had gone differently, Orochi could’ve been a good person. Wait, I’ll explain.

Orochi first met Higurashi over 41 years ago, when he was still a teen. Apparently, he lost his family. He was also forced to live in a terribly decrepit shack in a graveyard for who knows how long. Talk about creepy.

Higurashi’s entrance had an appropriate level of creepiness. She may have chosen the exact day for the lightning and thunder sound effects to be available. This granny must've had a knack for theatrics, hasn't she? This fits well with this arc’s theme of Kabuki stage plays. Not only that, by doing this, she showed who's the boss and made Orochi scared, confused and vulnerable to manipulation.

Orochi didn’t even know what crime his grandfather had been punished for, but he was still sure the punishment was just. Prior to meeting Higurashi, he blamed no one for his misery, oddly enough considering how much injustice he’d endured.

Orochi seems shocked to hear the story of his grandfather's misdeeds. Also, it was believed that they were killed in a civil war? Looks like we don't know a lot about Wano's history.

She didn't mention that not only their property was taken. The idea that someone could be guilty of being born was nothing new to Wano Country.

Interestingly, at that time, Orochi's dreams of becoming a shogun were simple and childish, there was nothing evil in them. They were kinda similar to the dreams of Denji from Chainsaw Man. 

Higurashi only offered the Devil Fruit to Orochi if he obeyed. He wasn't shown to be anything more than a tool to her.

Above all, she valued power and promoted this idea to both her family member and her future killer. Orochi felt nothing when she died, her own ruthlessness leaving a mark on him after many years of her being his only close person.

But it’s not a fact that Higurashi was always like that. She had to leave the country not only because of revenge, but also to save her life. There’s no doubt that survival in the unknown lands was indeed a terrible ordeal.

In any case, this was the beginning of their 20 years of collaboration, during which Orochi's attitude changed dramatically.

His clothes also changed. It's unknown if his living conditions also improved or if this was the only change (after all, a servant of the shogun should look appropriately). He stole much money, but they were used on producing weapons.

At that time, it wasn't clear how far the persecution of the Kurozumi clan had gone, but after it was shown, it seems weird that Yasuie asked why Orochi hid that he was a Kurozumi.

Most likely, it wasn't only a matter of self-righteousness. Throughout history, entire clans had often been wiped out to get rid of would-be avengers. The people of Wano wanted to get rid of any potential problems, and this backfired on them.

By the way, here Orochi says that if his clan only lost their social position, he wouldn't take revenge. Like, indiscriminate murder is counter-productive. It’s sad that the people of Wano didn’t understand this.

Orochi’s logic is terrible, but it is... logical. Why should I care if they die of starvation and disease? They didn't care about me when I lived in the same conditions! Why should I worry about their children becoming victims of my revenge? They think a child can be a criminal too!

There’s also this little, but very sad story of Kanjuro. It's possible to build many theories about how he lived, but the point is that no one extended a helping hand to him.

The persecution of Kurozumis isn't the only example of the callousness of the Wano citizens’ hearts. No one offered a helping hand to Izou and Kiku when they were left on the street. Fortunately, they met Oden, but they might not have met him.

And now the new shogun Momonosuke must deal with all this legacy. Let's see what the phrase “opening of the country’s borders” means to him. One thing is certain, when this happens, Wano Country must change its way of life. Maybe it’ll be more... more merciful? Maybe it’s too naive... Okay, I want to believe in Momo.

Even if Orochi and Kanjuro were too far gone, Momonosuke must make sure that things like this never happen again.

[english8muffin]

Vogue morning routine

Y/N Y/N/L’s guide to effortless natural makeup

Summary: you are asked to do the Vogue Beauty Secrets video and your two boys decide to join the party

Word count: around 2000

Warning: none, just pure floof!

I apologize in advance if there are any spelling and/or grammar mistakes, English is not my first language (+ this is my very first fic)

HEADLINE Henry Cavill’s new girlfriend, designer Y/N Y/L/N reveals her everyday morning routine in recent Vogue video: Y/N Y/L/N shows off her secrets to the perfect fusion of European and Asian beauty.

You stood in the spacious bathroom of the hotel room, only wearing a big, fluffy, white robe, that was actually Henry’s. But since the man was in the gym, you took the opportunity to lend it and bathe yourself in his musky smell, that calmed your nerves. Last night you started panicking, thinking you would probably look stupid for the entire world to see, luckily Henry and Kal tried to calm you down with cuddles and kisses.

This was the first ‘interview’ you would do, being such a young, successful entrepreneur really caught the attention of the media. When you first started your small online shop, you never would have thought you would end up here. Five years later, with a steady income, the job you always wished for and the man you had a crush on since the first time you laid eyes on him. Being a creative, it really made your heart soar with happiness, seeing all your products, your babies, in new homes where they would make others happy.

You were really proud of yourself. Henry was as well, and he made sure you and everybody around you knew. You were apprehensive at first, being with such a well known actor, who was also much older than you, it made you nervous of what people would say, what the media would say. You didn’t want to tarnish Henry’s image. You knew there were people with a much bigger age gap, but still, people were ruthless. So you both decided to take it slow, being careful with going out in public and social media posts.

You stand in front of the large mirror, which had a camera attached to it and open up your makeup bag. Right before you went into the bathroom, you made yourself a nice cup of tea, trying to stay calm. “Hi! I’m Y/N and today I am going to show you my everyday makeup routine,” you say with a smile, “I am not a dermatologist so please don’t take what I say too seriously.”

You grab a small white washcloth and hold it up, so it was in the frame, “First, I am going to wash my face and put on a few drops of serum,” You dampen the cloth and wipe it over your face and neck. You put a few drops in the palm of your hand and pat them into your skin. “Now I going to use my jade roller to massage the serum into my skin. It’s quite funny seeing so many people use these nowadays. In ancient China they were mostly used by the elite to keep there skin ageless. They would call jade the Stone of Heaven. It’s really helpful for the people who wake up with a puffy face like me,” you chuckle.

Somethimes you’d wake up with puffy cheeks, which led to Henry calling you his chubby bunny in the morning.

“Just a quick tip, and this is for everybody, make sure you always use SPF. I personally use SPF 30 and this one is shine control, since I tend to get an oily skin, but you can also use a regular one or a foundation with SPF in it. Believe me when I say your skin will be thankful.”

You grab the small tube of sun cream and show the amount you’ll use. You even convinced Henry to wear SPF everyday. At first he said he didn’t think it would make such a big difference, but when he realised you were going to be the one to put it on him, he was convinced about its benefits and adamant to wear it everyday. After working the thick cream into your skin, you put on some lipbalm and rummage through the pouch in front of you. When you find the product you’re looking for, you hold it up. “Now, I am going to put on a bit of concealer, this one is from Maybelline. After this, I will use a lighter shade under my eyes and on my acne scars that I have here,” you point and circle around the small cluster of scars on the sides of your cheeks.

Before blending out the concealer, you smile at the lens and put in two bright yellow hairclips, to keep your dark locks from falling into your face. “I probably should have done this at the start,” you laugh. The nerves creeping up a little. It wasn’t that you where a shy person, but knowing thousands of people will watch this, did something to you. You were always a very easygoing person, who could talk with pretty much everybody. But knowing people were going to watch you do something so intimate in a way, and would probably comment on it, scared you a little. While you would be 100% yourself, doing something as mundane as getting ready. If they didn’t like you now, then they probably won’t like you later. And that was what made you so afraid.

The bathrobe falls a bit down your shoulder, but you ignore it, since your hair fell down your shoulders in big waves. “Okay, brows. I used to block them in really dark when I was younger, but now I try to keep a light hand. I’ll use this Got 2B Glued as a brow gel afterwards. The tails of my eyebrows tend to move if I don’t use a strong enough gel. If you’re Asian you will understand the struggle.”

You quickly finish your brows, put some bronzer on your face and eyelids and take out your liquid eyeliner. “Am I the only one that acts like I’m a beauty guru whenever I do my makeup? Like, I’m just acting as if I’m used to this, right now, but to be honest, I was really nervous to do this video for Vogue,” you admit, “they will probably regret asking me,” you chuckle. You finish your eyemakeup with curling your long lashes, thanks to your mother’s genes, and add a coat of mascara.

You take in a deep breath, excited to show everyone the product you had been waiting for. “The next thing I am really proud to show you guys, because I designed the packaging. This is the new limited edition blush and highlighter palette from Dior, which they created for Lunar New Year!” You beam with pride, holding up the elegant looking palette. It had a darker toned glossy finish and the borders were the traditional Chinese looking frames, which were 3D and were surrounded by a wild variety of peonies. In the middle of the lid was your Chinese calligraphy in big golden brush stokes that said ‘year of the Ox’, the clasp was designed so it resembled an antique Chinese coin and on the side hung a jade charm.

“You can pre-order this palette now, I think they will put a link-thingy in de description. I wish you all a happy and blessed Lunar New Year, 祝农历年新年快乐牛年大吉!”

Just as you’re about to add some blush to your cheeks, the bathroom door creaks open and a curly-headed, sweaty Henry pops his head in. Fresh from the gym, and were you thankful for his new intense workout, because he was truely a sight to behold. A cheeky smile graces his handsome face when he spots you in front of the mirror, only wearing his robe, which made his grin widen.

“what are you doing in here? Are you hiding from me? Playing hide and seek is it?” he teases and rakes his large hand through the tousled curls, but just as he’s done speaking, he sees the camera behind you, and blushes. “Oh, I didn’t know you were filming, I’m sorry darling,” he smiles and gives a small wave in the direction of the camera. You led out a giggle, cheeks turning red already, if he’d keep this up, you wouldn’t need to add blush. You couldn’t focus anymore, he looked so attractive, only wearing his black gym shorts and a tight dark blue tank top. Damn that camera, otherwise you would have jumped him. Henry, thought the exact same thing. Seeing you, only wearing his robe and your hair still a bit wild from this morning’s cardio, made him hold back a moan. Those two cute, yellow clips in your hair could have fooled him, because you were anything but innocent.

Before he’s about to close the door again, he blows you a kiss. But his actions are stopped when a big bear makes his appearance. Bolting past his dad’s legs, Kal comes into the bathroom. Henry tries to catch him but misses. The black and white akita excitedly sniffs his head around the sink, trying to see what you were up to with all the stuff lying on the marble counter.

“Kal!” Henry whisper-yelled, trying to stay hidden behind the door. But you could still see his massive body crouched down behind the wood. It was rather funny, seeing the large man so panicked about getting his dog to listen. It kind of reminded you of that one video from BBC were a professor was being interviewed and his baby and nanny showed up in the background. While Henry tried to get Kal’s attention, the dog just sat next to your legs, and smiled when you pet him behind his ear. He was your good boy.

You both knew there was no other option but to keep Kal here, once he saw you do your makeup, he wanted to watch and get his ‘makeup’ done as well.

Henry also saw the look in Kal’s eyes and let out a sigh. Might as well stay with his two loves. He stood up from his position and walked to you, wrapping his sweaty but oh so save body around your figure, and placed a prolonged kiss on the exposed skin just by your shoulder. So far for taking it slow… He pressed himself thighter against your back, hiding his face in the crook of your neck and intertwined your hands, slowly rocking you two back en forth. “You look beautiful, my love,” he whispered, so only you could hear it, at least you hoped the camera wouldn’t pick that up. You let out a little giggle, like the inner schoolgirl you were whenever he was around you.

“Kal loves when Y/N does his makeup as well, don’t you boy,” Henry explains with a smile and looks down at the bear by your bare feet. Kal gives a small ruff and sweeps his tail eagerly. “Did you show them what you made,” he asked you with a wide smile, and looked straight in to the camera, “she worked really hard on that design, so I hope you all like it,” he declared proudly.

You ended up doing your makeup routine with your two boys in the background. Henry left for a few minutes to shower in the second bathroom your hotelroom had, and came back clad in a pair of light jogging trousers and a sweater. Even though you were inside, it was still a bit too chilly to walk around in short sleeves, being mid-winter and all. He just sat on the small wooden bench by the door, still in frame for everybody to enjoy and behold. His hair now damp. He was reading in a book and patiently waiting for you to get ready, occasionally looking up and laughing when you would wet your hands or Kal’s special makeup brush in the sink and pretend to do his makeup. The dog would bark excitedly and give you kisses. “Wow Kal, you look so pretty,” Henry told the big floof with the chuckle.

“Okay, this was my -somewhat- everyday makeup routine! Thank you guys for watching this chaotic mess, hope you laughed a bit, bye-bye, 再见!” How do those vlogger end their videos? Smash like and subscribe?

Behind you Henry looked up from the pages of his fantasy book and arched his brow, “Hey! No shout-out for your special guests? See you all next time!”

WOOHOO!! This is my very first fanfic, I really hope you enjoyed it. Liking, reposting and commenting would mean a lot to me! If you do repost this, please do not edit or copy my work. I worked really hard on this.

Much love, Nahmi xxx

Masterlist can be found HERE!

Want to be notified whenever I post something?

HERE IS MY TAG LIST!

[wisdomrays]

QUESTIONS & ANSWERS: Are Muslims Guilty of Imperialism?

This charge continues to be leveled against the Muslim world. I would like to counter it by asking the following questions:

Given the existing circumstances of 1,400 years ago, how would any one living in Makka or Madina go about exploiting his own clan and tribe? If the supposedly exploited lands and people were those of the Hijaz, which were poor, unfruitful, and barren, who would have wished to invade or exploit them? It is ludicrous to level the charge of imperialist colonialism against the most noble-minded Muslims, who risked their lives to spread the message of Islam; who spent the greater part of their lives far from their children, families, homes, and native lands fighting armies ten or twenty times their size; and who felt deeply grieved when they did not die on the battlefield and join the earlier martyrs for Islam. We ask ourselves what worldly gain they obtained in return for such struggle, deprivation, and sacrifice!

Those who invaded, occupied, and exploited others with the worst intentions (and results) of imperialism are power-hungry individuals or nations. To mention a few: Alexander the "Great" and Napoleon, the Roman empire and Nazi Germany, the Mongol armies unleashed by Genghis Khan and the colonizing armies unleashed by western Europe, Russian dictatorship (whether czarist or communist) and the American empire (whether "manifest destiny" or "making the world safe for democracy"). Wherever such conquests came and went, they corrupted the morality of the conquerors and the conquered, causing chaos, conflict, tears, bloodshed, and devastation. Today their heirs, like bold thieves who bluff property owners to conceal their theft of that very property, turn to besmirching Islam, its Prophet, and his Companions.

True Muslims have never sought to exploit others. Nor have they let others do so where Muslim government had jurisdiction. At a time when Muslim armies were running from triumph to triumph, Caliph 'Umar said: "What befits me is to live at the level of the poorest Muslims," and he really did so. As he took only a few olives a day for his own sustenance, who was he exploiting?

After one battle, when a Muslim was asked to take the belongings of an enemy soldier whom he had fought and killed, he said: "I did not participate in the battle to take spoils." Pointing to his throat, he continued: "What I seek is an arrow here and to fall as a martyr." (His wish was granted.) While burning with the desire for martyrdom, who was he exploiting?

In another battle, a Muslim soldier fought and killed a leading enemy who had killed many Muslims. The Muslim commander saw him pass by his dead enemy. The commander went to the head of the dead soldier and asked who had killed him. The Muslim did not want to reply, but the commander called him back in the name of God. The Muslim felt himself obliged to do so, but concealed his face with a piece of cloth. The following conversation took place:

-Did you kill him for the sake of God?

-Yes.

-All right. But take this 1,000 dinar piece.

-But I did it for the sake of God!

-What is your name?

-What is my name to you? Perhaps you will tell this to everyone and cause me to lose the reward for this in the afterlife.

How could such people exploit others and establish colonies all over the world? To speak frankly, those who hate Islam and Muslims are blind to the historical truth of how Islam spread.

Let's look at what exploitation and imperialism are. Imperialism or colonization is a system of rule by which a rich and a powerful country controls other countries, their trade and policies, to enrich itself and gain more power at the other's expense. There are many kinds of exploitation. In today's world, they may take the following forms:

• Absolute sovereignty by dispossessing indigenous people in order to establish the invader's direct rule and sovereignty. Examples are western Europe's conquest of North and South America, as well as Australia and New Zealand, as well as the Zionists' conquest of Palestine.

• Military occupation so that the invaders can control the conquered nation's land and resources. One example is British colonial rule in India.

• Open or secret interference and intervention in a country's internal and foreign affairs, economy, and defense. Examples are those Third World countries who are manipulated and controlled by various developed countries.

• The transfer of intellectuals, which is currently the most common and dangerous type of imperialism. Young, intelligent, and gifted people of the countries to be exploited are chosen, given stipends, and educated abroad. There they are introduced to and made members of different groups. When they return to their country, they are given influential administrative and other posts so that they can influence their country's destiny. When native or foreign people linked to exploiters abroad are placed in crucial positions in the state mechanism, the country is conquered from inside. This immensely successful technique has enabled Western imperialists to achieve many of their goals smoothly and without overtly rousing the enmity of the people they wish to subjugate. Today, the Muslim world is caught in this trap and thus continues to suffer exploitation and abuse.

Whatever kind of imperialism they are subjected to, countries suffer a number of consequences:

• Various methods of assimilation alienate people from their own values, culture, and history. As a result, they suffer crises of identity and purpose, do not know their own past, and cannot freely imagine their own future.

• Any enthusiasm, effort, and zeal to support and develop their country is quenched. Industry is rendered dependent upon the (former) imperial masters, science and knowledge are not allowed to become productive and primary, and imitation is established firmly so that freedom of study and new research will gain no foothold.

• People remain in limbo, totally dependent upon foreigners. They are silenced and deluded by such empty phrases as progress, Westernization, civilization, and the like.

• All state institutions are penetrated by foreign aid, which is in reality no more than massive financial and cultural debt. Imports, exports, and development are wholly controlled by or conducted according to the exploiter's interests.

• While no effort is spared to keep the masses in poverty, the ruling classes become used to extravagant spending and luxury. The resulting communal dissatisfaction causes people to fight with each other, making them even more vulnerable to outside influence and intervention.

• Mental and spiritual activity is stifled, and so educational institutions tend to imitate foreign ways, ideas, and subjects. Industry is reduced to assembling prefabricated parts. The army tends to become a dumping ground for imperialist countries, for its purchases of expensive hardware ensure the continued well-being of the latter's industries.

We wonder if it is really rational to liken the Islamic conquest to imperialism, which brought disastrous consequences wherever it went.

The victory of Muslim armies never caused a great exodus of people from their homes and countries, nor has it prevented people from working by putting chains on their hands and feet. Muslims left the indigenous people free to follow their own way and beliefs, and protected them in exactly the same way it protected Muslims. Muslim governors and rulers were loved and respected for their justice and integrity. Equality, peace, and security were established between different communities.

If it had been otherwise, would the Christians of Damascus have gathered in their church and prayed for a Muslim victory against Christian Byzantium, which was seeking to regain control of the city? If Muslims had not been so respectful of non-Muslims' rights, could they have maintained security for centuries in a state so vast that it took more than 6 months to travel from one end to another?

One cannot help but admire those Muslim rulers and the dynamic energy that made them so, when we compare them to present-day rulers. Despite every modern means of transportation, telecommunications, and military back-up, they cannot maintain peace and security in even a small area of land.

Today, many scholars and intellectuals who realize the value of Islam's dynamics, which brought about Islam's global sovereignty and which will form the basis of our eternal existence in the Hereafter, expressly tell us that Muslims should reconsider and regain them. While conquering lands, the Muslims also were conquering their inhabitants' hearts. They were received with love, respect, and obedience. No people who accepted Islam ever complained that they were culturally prevented or ruined by the arrival of Muslims. The contrast with the reality of Christian Europe's conquests is stark and obvious.

Early Muslims evaluated the potential of knowledge and art in the conquered lands. They prepared and provided every opportunity for local scholars and scientists to pursue their work. Regardless of their religion, Muslims held the people in high regard and honored them in the community. They never did what the descendants of the British colonialists in America did to the American Indians or in Australia to the Aborigines, the French to the Algerians, or the Dutch to the Indonesians. On the contrary, they treated the conquered people as if they were from their own people and religion, as if they were brothers and sisters.

Caliph 'Umar once told a Coptic Egyptian who had been beaten by a Makkan noble to beat him just as he had been beaten. When 'Umar heard that 'Amr ibn al-'As had hurt the feelings of a native Egyptian, he rebuked him: "Human beings were born free. Why do you enslave them?" As he went to receive the keys to Masjid al-Aqsa, 'Umar visited and talked to priests in different churches in Palestine. Once he was in a church when it was time to pray. The priest repeatedly asked him to pray inside the church, but 'Umar refused, saying: "You may be harassed by other Christians later on because you let me pray in the church." He left the church's premises and prayed outside on the ground.

These are but a few examples to indicate how Muslims were sensitive, tolerant, just, and humane toward other people. Such an attitude of genuine tolerance has not been reached by any other people or society.