#would be akin to a religion is to devote yourself to something much more powerful then you (exploiters

[evi4th]

religious trauma lifesteal!zam essay //lifesteal spoilers

call it projecting but like imagine the amount of religious trauma lifesteal!princezam has (presuming theres some sort of connection of the characters between seasons) like bro has had like 80% of his teamates become gods and watched them loose their sense of self in one way or another he himself started exploiting at one point then goes on to ban himself in season five theres something to be said their having reached the heart cap and having so much power after hours and hours of constant labour to achieve what he got handed to him by a divine like entity like just to ban himself something something sacirficing your life to a higher entity . something also about watching all of his loved ones betray him die or him having to betray them for his own self of moral justice which is very lackluster to his constantly changing beliefs and morality he will never find something that he can cling to (like religion) so. yeah.

[yanderes-galore]

yandere lamb with a bishop darling?

I can try my hand at this, sure! I really want to write more for this game but no one requests it :')

Yandere! The Lamb with Bishop! Darling

(FT. Yandere! Platonic! Narinder/TOWW)

Pairing: Romantic (The Lamb)/Platonic (Narinder/TOWW)

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Worship yandere, Cults, Violence/Murder, Dubious relationship.

The Bishops are deities worshipped in the Old Faith.

The religion itself is cruel and inhumane, often requiring sacrifices of unwilling subjects.

The Bishops themselves, your siblings, could be considered cruel themselves.

Narinder, Bishop of Death, was sealed away after harming his siblings, you yourself may even have an injury from him too.

Leshy, the Bishop of Chaos, has always been too arrogant of his power.

Heket, the Bishop of Famine, is often aggressive and brings hunger to her followers.

Kallamar, Bishop of Pestilence, is a coward who brings sickness to his followers and fails to lead them.

Shamura, Bishop of War, often forced obedience through mind control.

Compared to your siblings and this religion, you could be a Bishop in two ways.

Perhaps you're better than them, the hope the followers need to continue suffering under the others.

Or maybe you're just as bad as your siblings?

(I'm biased to you being some sort of Bishop of Hope and Radiance yet you can be anything you want)

The point is, The Lamb may want to worship a Bishop! Darling.

Sure, they are meant to worship Narinder to free him... meaning they may have to slay you.

But The Lamb can't bring themselves to!

Even more so if you genuinely care for your followers.

I feel what would make this story even more intense is if Narinder was attached to you as his sibling.

That way he'd probably ask The Lamb to spare you, to force you into a messenger of the new cult.

After all, the other four betrayed him...

Not you.

Honestly just the thought of The Lamb trying to appease you is adorable.

Narinder prefers sacrifices, so The Lamb tries to pick followers they think you'll like.

You're given gold as wealth and often given gifts.

Even if The Lamb had to slay you, they'd probably bring you back to make you a follower.

The Lamb's obsession is only encouraged if Narinder likes you.

Narinder trusts The Lamb to convert you and your followers... along with treating you well.

To you, you may even find The Lamb's attempts at worship and maybe even courtship cute.

They bleat towards you before offering you gifts.

They conduct sermons about you and Narinder.

You're often depicted as the sibling of TOWW and are worshipped as such.

Anything romantic would be sort of strange unless you were made a follower.

The Lamb's romantic attractions towards you while you're still a deity may be more akin to someone saying they "love God" or something similar.

They love you and devote themselves to you.

Narinder, your brother, may even see The Lamb as a connection you two share.

A temporary connection... as TOWW has plans to ditch The Lamb once he is free.

You may see The Lamb as a follower of your own... or maybe even a pet.

You often speak to The Lamb, asking how their conquest is going.

You are aware of what they must do... it's bittersweet.

On one hand, your siblings (and maybe you) had it coming.

On the other hand... you wish none of this has to happen.

The Lamb tries to distract you from your mourning.

As Leshy, Heket, Kallamar, and Shamura fall... The Lamb tries to comfort you.

You try not to blame the pawn too much....

They are Narinder's form of punishment.

Lambs should never have been targeted in the first place after all.

It was foolish to think Narinder would never return.

As a result, you are in acceptance of your fate.

You accept The Lamb's offerings and bless them on their journeys.

You aren't sure how things will go when Narinder returns.

From what you hear, the Bishop of Death seems eager to see you again.

Part of you fears what's to come, but the others tried to fight it and perished...

So why should you?

The Lamb is often the one to pull you from your thoughts.

They come back from their crusades all proud and happy.

They always come to see you at your land and at the cult.

Knowing you can't fight the return of your brother, you aid his pawn.

His pawn, The Lamb, appears to adore you just as much.

The Lamb isn't entirely an intense yandere when you're a Bishop.

They come to see you often and try to follow where you go.

They only wish to worship you alongside your remaining brother!

You are wise enough to know you can't fight fate compared to your siblings...

So you accept The Lamb's offerings and adoration... which includes all of their love.

You wonder if Narinder will spare The Lamb once he comes back to rule yet again.

[puppetdevotion]

lilac , hydrangea

— your god

“ lilac — what’s the dynamic between you and your darling like? ”

our dynamic.. i think it might be slightly easy to guess, being that you call yourself my god. you are my deity, my anchor. our dynamic is something akin to religion, yet blasphemous. i see heaven in your eyes. it was a quick attachment, i feel, and even then i was unsure you belonged in this world with mortals. you may be cursed with a mortal vessel but in my head i am entirely convinced you are a god. not just a god — the god. my god.

i think id say that as far as dynamics go, there is a surprising equality even in our "power difference." we take care of each other, and even if you guide and nurture, i care and dote on you as well. it's symbiotic, we function as the same being rather than separate. is it parasitic in the best way. despite what would be considered "harm," or "enabling," we still flourish. hence the label symbiotic (though personally i love parasitic much better)

we're holy, we're divine. we are the most understood in each other's presence

“ hydrangea — what’s a subtle way you show your affection to your darling? ”

as you've answered, i stalk. i memorize, i notice, i listen. i have over 150 screenshots saved, and i would have more if i weren't so nervous about making you uncomfortable. however, if it were up to me i would fill my entire storage with screenshots and pictures and everything relating to you. this is why i need an actual camera.. and to live close by.. so i may have an entire wall of pictures of you. ahem

i suppose that the way i listen and observe is in itself a devotional act to you. my life is a devotional act. a sacrifice. a gift to you. i will live for you, as long as you ask, and i will not question it

[moonknightly]

Now I’m Hungry For Blood Again : Poe Dameron x Reader

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader 

Word Count: 2.7k

Excerpt: “...you could find sweet religion in his eyes and build a church in the palm of his hand, but those eyes, that tongue — you would sin, and sin, and sin as he brought you to your knees. He was your confessional, his name your most desperate prayer, your moans an erotic hymn.”

Warnings: Blood, bad words you shouldn’t repeat in front of a 5 year old, sexual references but no smut. 

I totally 100% recommend listening to “Run” and “Blood Red” by The Maine oKAY

You love him.

Present tense.

You love the way your name drips from his tongue like honey, and the way his fingers tangle in your hair, and how they pull, sending pinpricks across your scalp and shivers down your spine. You love how he seems to know exactly what’s bothering you before you even have a chance to say it, and how his eyes scan your face as if he’s committing it to memory every single time he looks at you, as if he could never possibly get enough of you.

You love him, and his stupid messy curls, and the way his brown eyes sparkle in the sunlight, and the taste of his lips.

And those lips of his, they taste so fucking sweet, because you know he loves you just as much. There’s no doubt in your mind that he loves you with every ounce of his being, with every fractured piece of his soul, set on fire with a single touch.

He had managed to climb his way inside of you, settle between your bones and make a home inside of your chest, but you had managed to do the same. You could feel his devotion for you in the way his gentle hands gripped your hips between rough sheets, and in the way his eyelashes fluttered across the skin of your cheek as he breathed you in.

You love him.

And Poe Dameron loves you.

Even if he was no longer whispering your name in the dead of night and stealing the breath right from your lungs with a single touch of his lips to yours, he still loves you.

A love like that can’t just die.

Living things die. Plants, animals, people. Parts of people.

But not love. Not your love. It was infinite, and knew no bounds. It couldn’t just cease to exist, it didn’t make any sense. You refused to let it make sense.

It couldn’t have just disappeared, dissolving into the night sky like a cloud of gray smoke. Poe Dameron could disappear, but his love couldn’t.

Or maybe, it could. Maybe everyone was right. Maybe he really was gone. Maybe you were holding onto some sense of false hope and false promises of forever. Maybe you were stuck in the first stage of grief — denial.

You were okay, staying there. Remaining in the first stage. You didn’t want to be angry, or bargain, or fall into a depression you doubted you would be able to pull yourself out of, and you definitely didn’t want to accept the fact that his heart no longer belonged to you, and that it was over.

You didn’t know it was possible to grieve the loss of someone who was still alive, still breathing.

Maybe you weren’t grieving. Maybe you were just feeling.

Feelings. Emotions. You were so out of touch with them. The numbness, the nothingness, it was all you knew now. You couldn’t remember the last time you had actually let yourself feel something.

Actually, you could. It was that last night — your last night with him, now over a year ago, where you spent hours memorizing the feeling of his tongue sliding across sweat soaked skin and how his lips crafted a sinful poem between your thighs.

You had felt everything then. Every electric touch, every fluttering beat of your heart. Sex with Poe Dameron was nothing short of spiritual; you could find sweet religion in his eyes and build a church in the palm of his hand, but those eyes, that tongue — you would sin, and sin, and sin as he brought you to your knees. He was your confessional, his name your most desperate prayer, your moans an erotic hymn.

You missed feeling.

You missed him.

And Gods, you were determined to find him.

He was there, somewhere. Somewhere amongst the burning village, between the blood and the carnage lining desecrated streets. You could sense it. You’re with a person long enough, your bodies start to react like magnets.

You wanted to believe that maybe, he was looking for you too, that his soul still felt that pull to yours. Because it didn’t take you long at all to cross his path, nearly running into him as you both bolted around the corner in a deserted alley, and when your eyes met, for the first time in so long, he didn’t seem at all surprised.

You certainly were.

Surprised was probably an understatement.

Because seeing him, standing there with his hands clasped behind his back, in a black uniform that you hated to admit fit perfectly in all the right places, with the curls you so loved tamed, cut short and graying — it made it real. Made the fact that he left real, that he gave up sleeping next to you at night for a cause he had once sworn to destroy by your side.

Another thing you had been in denial over: you didn’t want to believe that the rumors, or rather, facts, were true. That he had joined the First Order, that he was now flying a TIE instead of his precious black X-Wing. That he had traded peace for power.

You could only stare at him, still trying so desperately to cling to that denial, but then he smiled at you. He smiled at you, but his eyes — you had never seen the warm brown so cold. So devoid of emotion. So lifeless.

Poe Dameron, your Poe Dameron, was anything but.

This wasn’t Poe.

The hope you had been holding onto immediately vanished, and you were finally slipping into that second stage of grief, because Maker, were you pissed. Pissed at yourself for refusing to believe what everyone else had told you, furious that you had been too blind to see it. Angry that his promises to you had meant nothing. Angry that he left the Resistance, left you for this.

The anger was quickly replaced by another response. You watched in something akin to horror as his smile turned to a smirk, and the feeling that creeped its way into your chest — it wasn’t relief. It wasn’t relief or happiness or contentment. It was nowhere near any positive emotion you could think of.

You didn’t even know what to call it.

All you knew is that you wanted nothing more than to wipe that smirk clear off his face.

“Fancy seein’ you here, darling,” he said, and you cringed. His voice sounded exactly the same, his tone as soft as when he was still yours, contradicting everything else about him.

“You actually fucking did it,” you scoffed, surprising yourself by how steady yet full of venom your own voice was. You had nearly expected it to crack. Infact, you hadn’t planned on saying anything at all for that exact reason. It just slipped.

“I see you’ve still got that mouth on you.”

“You used to like my mouth.”

“Oh darling,” he chuckled, though the sound held no humor, his smirk turning even more wicked than before. “If I remember correctly, you used to love mine. Had you begging for it.”

He was right.

Used to.

Past tense.

���Still cocky as ever. Nice to know some things never change.”

“Everything changes,” he shrugged, slowly strolling closer to you, those brown eyes holding you to your spot.

“Not everything.”

Poe began to circle you, his gaze trailing over your body in a way that sent a shiver down your spine, but you worked so hard to ignore it, tried so hard to push it away. Tried to remind yourself that he wasn’t Poe anymore, he was just another member of the First Order. Your enemy.

Your hand twitched, knowing it should fly to your blaster, rip it from the holster. You knew you should spin around, and at least keep it pointed at him as you made your escape. You knew you would never be able to actually use it on him.

He had to have seen your fingers reach for it, or maybe he still knew you well enough to be just one step ahead, or maybe he was remembering his own training, because he was suddenly pulling the weapon from its spot on your hip and before you could even register his sudden movement, you felt the cold metal of the barrel press into your lower back.

“You’re not going to use that on me.”

“You don’t know that.”

“You’re not going to kill me, Dameron.”

You felt the pressure let up, and even though it was only for a second, it gave you another ounce of courage to speak out against him, to let him know just how truly pissed off you were.

“You don’t have the balls.”

And he growled. He growled, and you huffed as your back collided with cool brick, the air catching in your lungs. You were so focused on trying to remember how to breathe properly, you almost didn’t notice when the tip of your blaster was suddenly jammed into the underside of your jaw.

Almost.

“Try me.”

His voice was threatening, eyes cold, calculated. He was watching your every movement, and for  a moment you thought that you might’ve been wrong. Maybe he was going to kill you. Maybe Poe Dameron would end your life with your own fucking blaster.

But there. There was just a flicker of something else in those cold and calculated eyes as he watched you gulp, visibly showing for the first time that you were scared. Something not entirely warm, but it was still something. A memory, an old, nearly forgotten feeling. And that was enough for you.

“You’re not a killer Poe.”

He laughed, the sound downright caustic, dripping with poison. “You have no idea just how fucking wrong that sentence is, sweetheart.”

He removed his hand from your hip that you hadn’t even realized was holding you to the wall, and once it moved into your line of vision, you noticed that he quite literally had blood on his hands, crimson running down his fingertips, still fresh, probably still warm.

Poe of course noticed you blatantly staring, almost entranced, and his eyes narrowed, gaze flickering between his fingers and your face. You didn’t notice.

“Open.”

That caught your attention.

“Excuse me?”

“Open your fucking mouth, Y/N.”

You gaped. He couldn’t be serious, could he?

“Fuck yo-”

He took the opportunity, and before you could finish your sentence, his blood soaked fingers were moving past your lips, sliding across your tongue and down your throat as far as he could get them. You gagged.

“Suck.”

You had half the mind to bite him.

“Come on, my fingers aren’t the first thing of mine you’ve had shoved down your throat.”

Yeah, you bit him.

He hissed as your teeth sank into his skin, but he didn’t move, didn’t yank his hand back like you had expected him to. Fuck, you had been anticipating a hard smack across the face. None of it came. If anything, a hint of arousal found its way into his eyes.

“You always knew just how to tighten my pants.”

Your eyes widened, and you hated the fact that his words traveled straight to your core, made you whimper around his fingers.

He smirked again, devilish and sinful and fuck, why didn’t you hate this?

“Now suck.”

Why did you fucking oblige him?

You slowly, just a little hesitantly, swirled your tongue around his fingers, the tangy metallic taste familiar, and you still didn’t hate it.

“That’s it,” he cooed, brown eyes nearly black, blown with lust and desire more so than you had ever seen. It drove you crazy.

He pulled his fingers out of your mouth just a few seconds later, letting them drag along your tongue again, making you gag a second time.

And Poe laughed, raising his other hand, still covered in that sweet, heavy blood, to his own lips, his eyes fluttering shut as the taste hit his tongue.

Your stomach flipped, but you couldn’t look away.

Gods, he was crazy, but you were crazier for letting his actions shock your system and send electric jolts through your veins.

“Almost as sweet as your pussy.”

Maybe you weren’t that crazy.

You had enough of your sense left to punch him, swift and hard, your knuckles landing square on his jaw.

And he only laughed again.

Poe really had lost his mind.

“What the hell happened to you?” you nearly gasped, your voice barely above a whisper, the weakness you had expected before finally finding its way into your tone.

He only shrugged. He didn’t need to verbally answer, you knew. He had always liked control, and power, and he had finally given into the primal side of himself that always hid below the surface — a side of himself he only talked about at 5 in the morning, and only ever to you.

You bit the inside of your cheek, finally averting your gaze. He laughed a third time, and you suddenly felt a familiar weight in the palm of your hand.

You looked down, your fingers automatically curling around the blaster that you were now holding. You couldn’t help but furrow your eyebrows. Every single action during this short exchange had you so utterly and entirely confused.

Looking up, you met his stare once again, lips pursed. You didn’t ask, not verbally, but your expression must have been enough of a question.

Poe tilted his head to the side, studying you carefully for just a moment, though his eyes weren’t any less intense, any less crazed.

“You wouldn’t be able to use that thing on me even if you really wanted to, sweetheart.”

“I’m not weak.”

He scoffed, and this time, he was the first to avert his gaze, staring down the alley, appearing almost lost in thought for just a single moment, that flicker in his eye returning, though it vanished as quickly as it came.

“No, you’re not. You never were. But you love me.”

Present tense.

He was right again.

You still didn’t hate him, couldn’t bring yourself too. Didn’t know if you ever could. And of course he knew that, but he wasn’t dangling it above your head, teasing you with it. No, he stated it as a fact, as if he had read it off a file from his datapad.

You weren’t weak, but you weren’t immune, either.

And he knew it. He knew it, and while he wasn’t exactly ignoring it, he wasn’t abusing it, either.

You didn’t understand.

And apparently Poe wasn’t going to explain, not that you expected him to. He was done talking, his hands moving behind his back once again as he started down the narrow alleyway once again. You were still frozen, and all you could do was watch him go, not knowing what else to do, but knowing that the blaster in your hand was useless. Why did he always have to be right?

But then he stopped, turned his face to the side just enough to look at you through his peripheral, and even from ten feet away, you could see that his jaw was clenched, and his eyebrows were furrowed.

“Next time,” he started, his voice quiet, though it dripped with acid, sending a chill down your spine and goosebumps across your skin. “I won’t hesitate.”

Still frozen, you wished that he had gone ahead and pulled the trigger.

Because even with a threat looming over your head, a threat that your instinct told you to not ignore, you just couldn’t bring yourself to believe him.

Still couldn’t bring yourself to hate him.

You still love him.

Present tense.

And he was gone once again, like a cloud of gray smoke.

[wristic]

The Morrígna

Pairing: Ivar X Reader

Word Count: 1900

Warnings: This was going to be considerably darker but now there is just a lil’ blood.

@superanonymousreader

Ivar has been wrestled into a marriage with a Celtic princess. Celtic is a word that means nothing to him and makes one assumption after the other, the day spent moping and angry. Until your father and mother excitedly reveal how you’ll be celebrating the marriage. 

The first thing he thought when he saw you was Sigurd. On and on the marriage went, from morning to evening the festivities just didn't end and every bright smile, every polite interaction, playing and dancing so whimsically, you would have been a perfect wife for Sigurd. You were cheery and bright, a flowering innocent that only served to repel him. If Sigurd couldn’t survive him, you sure as hell wouldn’t.

As the sun painted the sky a deep blue violet, the clouds a burning orange, you tried yet again to speak with him.

“You don't seem to like me much.” a grim thing to say, disappointment in your eyes and smile even when he glared at you.

Safely hunched over his food, Ivar grunted away from you. “You seem very sweet, and nice. You would be a better match for someone else.”

You tried scooting closer to him, a hand circling around his wrist. “But I’m not married to someone else, I’m married to you.” He didn't react, still hounding down the food as a means of ignoring you. “Perhaps you have a lover already-” Ivar snickered and shook his head, further trying to agitate you, but you remained as calm as an untouched pond. “I understand this is a marriage of convenience for both our houses, but that doesn't mean we can't try to make it something real.”

Ivar tossed down his ravaged rib bone and slammed back in his seat. The look he gave you entirely condescending. “I know you probably can't understand what this means but I am a Warlord.”

Your brow raised but in amusement.  “Aren't all great Kings in their own right?”

For all his attempts to annoy you, they all seemed to bounce off and annoy him. “I don't frolic in fields of daisies, I paint them in blood, guts, and with mountains of severed heads. It is not something I am forced to do, it is something I love to do. As my wife, me returning bathed in gore is something you will be subjected to everyday.”

You treated the ugly picture with a giggle, “My how terrible, the Christians must tremble at the mere mention of your name.”

It took him a moment to snap back, analyzing the way you said ‘Christians’ as if you were apart from them. All his father's teachings and the very people who were born here had never mentioned a second religion before, so this was a fluke surely. You opened your mouth to say something as your mother came and whispered in your ear. Looking up you nodded to her with that charming sweet smile, squeezing his wrist for his attention. “We’ll continue this talk in the morning. Perhaps then I will know what to say to convince you not to give up so soon.”

With that dreading news you lifted and left the room. Upon returning a few moments later, you were stripped of your colorful garments and jewels, hair unbraided and flowing free in nothing but a thin long gown, the purest of white he had ever seen. Your mother pulled you into a kiss on the forehead, you two laughing at one another as you talked. There was pride in her eyes, a tender expectancy of things to come as she stroked your warm cheeks. Looking to the floor he noticed your feet bare on the tiles, yet as you accepted well wishes of the people you walked by, you were heading to the double doors, to the outside.

“Where is she going? Shouldn’t she be heading in the direction of our bed?” The King, your father, set his jaw trying to hold back his bristle at the obvious jab.

“She is going to meet with the Druidic Order.”

Ivar had to suppress rolling his eyes, not enjoying having to get his answers by pulling teeth. “To do what?”

“Make sacrifice to the Gods and receive their prophecy.”

Ivar’s hand stuttered, frozen above the plate when he whipped his head to the king. “Come again?”

The older man seemed a little impatient with him, like Ivar was supposed to have known all this when he married you. “It is a traditional practice, to receive a prophecy on unions such as this. She is my only child and my daughter, meaning you will be inheriting my lands. It is her duty to know what will happen to them under your rule when I pass.”

Ivar settled that his mind was only jumping to conclusions. Surely in this land dominated by a lone God, and with someone as bright as yourself, the word sacrifice was only meant in the menial and spiritual. “What will she sacrifice? Wheat or jewels or…?”

It was your mother who answered, very excited and unusually alive about it. “For Dagda The Good God, and on your behalf, a bull. For The Morrígna, the sisters Badb, Macha and Nemain, it will be a crow that will bless her with a vision. She felt it was most befitting seeing as you are here on conquest.” She nodded to him with an almost devious smile, “It is clear the triple goddess favors you.”

It felt strange hearing for the first time that other gods in the world favored him, even more so that they were being sacrificed to in hopes of seeing his future. “So… she’s going to kill the animals?”

“Oh yes,” The pride was spilling out of your mother as she looked off. “She is very devote and trained in the old ways. If she didn’t have the duties of a princess I have no doubt in my mind she would forsake her name and become one with the wood.” Your father and mother shared a gleeful air thinking about it, how unbelievably proud they were to have you so attuned with the ‘old ways’.

It made him think and miss Floki and Helga, the same happiness and energy they’d get when he remembered the right hymns or got a seiðr ritual done correctly and flawlessly. Suddenly the air felt shifted around him, your ghost still smiling and dancing, filling him with an odd admiration.

He rolled in bed, trying to force his eyes to stay shut and his mind to fade. It wouldn't. He was sure everyone could hear the chanting and singing on the wind through the stones and windows. See the orange and smoke in the distant forest. Heart racing impossibly fast, the three names of your triple goddess Badb, Macha and Nemain, whose sacrifice would bathe your hands, taunted him. He had to know what your sacrifices looked like, he had to know what you were capable of.

But when he had made his way to leave the guards of your people stopped him, your mother explaining that it was a ritual ‘for the feminine’, that if he disrupted it their marriage would be cursed by angry spirits.

He was half tempted to do it anyway, but he had a respect for sacrifices and the order they must be taken in. So he lay there tormented, even when the chanting had stopped and the orange had dimmed, wanting nothing more than to go back in time and follow you out there.

Shifting footsteps stopped outside of his door, just standing there. For the long moment Ivar caught whispering. He couldn’t discern what they were saying, he couldn’t even tell if they were a man or woman. Sitting up, he tensed and gripped the knife under the pillow as the door started to slowly slip open.

He squinted as the moonlight hit the body, a naked body, your body, your name slipping from him in confusion. The scent that followed you was a powerful mix of wood smoke, sweet wildflowers, and something he was all too familiar with. When you crawled onto the bed with him the moonlight shimmered off the thick trails of dried blood all along your body. You didn’t stop crawling to him or whispering your strange words until you were straddling him and holding his face a mere inch from yours with freezing hands, the heat only radiating off your body. Your eyes were more than dark because of the shadows, he realized looking deep into them like you forced, the pupils were blown so wide your eyes were black, he could swear the tip on his finger could go right through.

Listening to you talking, wide eyed with a permanent smile, the only word he could catch was Ímair, but only because it sounded similar to his name. Breaking his concentration, you kissed him, his stomach twisting in a strange way to feel your smile against his lips, the taste of blood seeping past to his tongue without having opened his mouth. You pressed him back to the bed, the whispers having stopped and now your hands were all over his body, your lips not leaving his long enough to talk anymore. Touching your skin felt like splaying his hands on ice water.

Ivar quickly rolled you onto your back, pulling up the blankets to warm you, not able to imagine wandering naked at night bathed in something akin to water. Looking into your face a long moment he shuddered. Face splattered and dripped in dark red ichor under the moonlight, your eyes strange but held in bliss and wonderment. Not how he imagined the consummation to go, no, this was infinitely better.

The soft touch of fingers running through his hair drew Ivar out of his deep sleep, the sunlight not doing him any favors as he noticed it for the first time filling the room. When his eyes adjusted you were sitting and smiling dreamily beside him, clothed in your royal dress, clean of any evidence of the night before.

“How are you feeling?”

Ivar rolled and stretched, “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

You chuckled, “The goddess hasn’t left me quite yet. I don’t hear her anymore but the world hasn’t aligned with my feet. Anyway, I came to wake you because everything is ready for our journey back to your camp.”

He hummed, looking around, finding the pillow beside him speckled in red from where your hair stained. Coming back with a smirk he asked, “You were talking an awful lot when you came in here. What were you saying?”

“Not me.” Your smile took a dark mirthful edge when you admitted, “The Morrígna.”

You delved down and pressed your body flush with his, sighing as you thought for the right words to say. “Not everything I see and hear always makes sense at first glance. But Uí Ímair was very clear to me.”

“You did say it a lot.” He snickered petting away your hair, too wrapped up in the thoughts of last night. “And what does that mean?”

You pulled yourself up him, tilting your head behind his ear as you whispering into his hair, “Dynasty of Ivar.” He stilled, the world tilting and drifting as the words echoed in him, lighting tickling goosebumps under his skin. “Could hardly be a dynasty without many sons I’d imagine.” you kissed along his neck with a smile. Leaning to the side he looked at you in wide disbelief, your face revealing far more truth as you grinned hungrily at him. “This may have been a marriage of convenience for my people and yours, but Morrígna has reassured me, it is a good match...as I suspected.”

[saladstop]

The power of communities

Photo by rawpixel on pexels 

When living in a food mecca like Singapore, the whole experience of eating is almost akin to a religion; devoting yourself to the pursuit of good food, building connections through shared eating ‘rituals’, and using food as a means to attain happiness or a sense of well-being.

What you decide to put into your body may seem like a very individualistic and rational choice, but we often underestimate the extent to which our eating behavior is influenced by external factors such as culture, society, the media, and the environment we live in.

We might think we eat healthy - when we dine alone or are in easy access of nutritious meals - but you may well be surprised to find out the reasons why you don’t seem to be losing those extra few pounds or pesky love handles!

Eating is a Social Activity 

Photo by rawpixel on Unsplash

Food and eating is ubiquitous in Singapore with every little occasion (eg. birthdays, anniversaries, promotions etc.) being an excuse to try that new hipster cafe or trendy upscale restaurant. There's just something about bonding over a spread of hearty delicious food that warms the soul and invites new conversations. 

Studies have shown however, that we tend to eat more in a group setting, than if we were eating alone; perhaps due to a prolonged eating duration, lack of attention to how much you’re actually eating, and excitement to sample as many dishes as possible - #FOMO (fear of missing out).

Often, we also adapt our regular or preferred dietary choices to be congruent with that of friends or family in order to avoid judgement, fear of not ‘fitting in’, or because of peer-pressure to conform to the eating patterns of others.

Tip: We’re all for indulging in a bit of junk food once in a while - we’re only human! Just be more aware of what you are putting in your mouth, how much you’re eating, and if you are eating for your own enjoyment, or for the enjoyment of others.

Background, Culture & Ethnicity 

Photo by Gor Davtyan on Unsplash

Forming the basis of our eating habits growing up, the food that we’re brought up with may subconsciously influence our food preferences as adults; from what foods we find appropriate, preferable and palatable, to how often and how much we eat.

This is also largely influenced by our culture, ethnicity and religion which uses food as a means to express identities and pass down traditions. Overtime, generations come to recognise these foods as familiar, comforting and part of everyday diet, even if those foods are high in unhealthy fat, cholesterol, and sugars.

As our eating habits are deeply entrenched, it’s no wonder why it’s so difficult to alter them later in life. Any alteration would require a long-term disciplined approach and a change in values and attitudes toward food.

Tip: Embrace your culture and heritage! If you are doing the cooking, change up recipes by reducing fat, sugar and salt, but keep the flavours distinct to the dish. You can also practice better portion control and take small steps in working toward healthier eating habits and incorporating a larger variety of nutrient-dense foods into the meal.  

Conclusion

At SaladStop!, our movement to Eat Wide Awake is not just about knowing where your food comes from and how the food production cycle impacts the welfare of others and the environment. It is also about understanding how and why we eat, and the social factors which directly or indirectly influence our eating habits and patterns.

With all this information at our fingertips, we can then begin to eat and live more mindfully!

[framboisezakuro]

101 Questions with Fram

1. What is your full name? Do you have a nickname? Framboise Zakuro. Though most of the company has taken a liking to the nickname “Fram.”

2. How old are you? When is your birthday? I am 23 at this point. I was born on the 21st Sun of the 1st Umbral Moon.

3. Where were you born? Where do you live now? Are you patriotic? I was born in the Jadeite Thick, located in Gridania. As for patriotic…hmn…I wouldn’t consider my feelings towards Gridania ‘rigorous’ or akin to 'devotion’…but I am fond of my homeland, yes.

4. Who are/were your parents? (Names, occupations, personalities, etc.) I do not know my parents very well. I was raised by my older siblings.

5. Do you have any siblings? What are/were they like? I am the eighth eldest of my siblings. When I left home, there were twelve of us total. I don’t think you wish to be bored by the minutiae of my siblings respective personalities. The one thing we all share in common, though, is that we are all intelligent.

6. What is your occupation? I am a magic user. Most people think of me as a Healer primarily, but I aim to master most of the magical arts.

7. How tall are you? How much do you weigh? 5 Fulms 11 Ilms…as for weight, er…I haven’t checked lately. I’m afraid to find out.

8. What color is your hair? What color are your eyes? Erm…(And this is why she keeps her hair short, so she can’t really think about it.) My hair is an icy pale blue with berry-ish highlights (the blue came in as I got older…I was born with primarily berry-colored hair, which is where I got my name). My eyes are pink. Albino pink.

9. What is your race? Miquo'te, Keeper of the Moon

10. To which social class do you belong? Adventurer seems to be its own social class, wouldn’t you think?

11. Do you consider yourself to be attractive? Do others? …the timing of this question couldn’t be worse. I do try to take some pride in my appearance, keeping myself properly groomed and dressed, but…well, I don’t consider myself to be above average.

As for others, well…several girls seem to think so, but they’re my friends, so I’m certain they’re just being nice.

12. What is your style of dress? Typically it’s practicality vs. frivolity, however I tend to favor pastel hues.

13. Do you have any scars? Tattoos? Birthmarks? Other unique physical features? Outside of my usual tribal marks, no. Some people consider my coloring unique, but otherwise, I’m rather ordinary.

14. Do you have any allergies, diseases, or other physical weaknesses? No allergies, fortunately. As for physical weaknesses - I get cold rather easily, and start to get dizzy when there’s lightning out. I’m not very strong, though I do think I have fairly decent stamina. I just cannot carry a lot.

15. Are you right- or left-handed? When using a staff or wand, I am right-handed. I write left-handed, however.

16. What does your voice sound like? Japanese: Kuwashima Houko English: Kelly Sheridan

17. What kind of vocabulary do you use? Whatever best suits the situation, really. I was told once that you needed a dictionary to hold a conversation with me, but I believe that to be exaggeration.

18. List three quirks or other defining characteristics. I rub the back of my neck when nervous or tense, or ruffle the back of my hair…I tend to hold my chin when I’m thinking hard. 

19. How often do you bathe? Do you wear perfumes? Every day, if I can help it! It’s one of the few luxuries these days I make time for. As for perfume, I tend to favor orange blossom, rose, or lavender.

20. What kind of facial expression do you commonly wear (dour glare, wry smile, etc)? Wide-eyed wonder is a facial expression, right? That or a thoughtful stare.

21. Do you use body language? How? I fear that I am quite an open book when it comes to conveying my emotions. I shy away, shrug, hunch my shoulders, the whole gamut. Sometimes I don’t realize I’m doing it, other times…well, I just wish others would be attentive enough to pick up on non-verbal cues…

22. Do you have a commonly used saying? Not that I’m aware of…though I’ve found myself calling others 'reckless’ more often than I’d like.

Childhood

23. What is your earliest memory? I do not remember how it was done, but I had broken my leg when I was very tiny. One day my siblings hid my crutches from me and I had to spend the entire day crawling with one good leg until I could find them.

24. How much schooling have you had? Did you enjoy it? Before pursuing my magic, I was taught to read by my older siblings. All other schooling was entirely self-instigated.

25. Where did you learn most of your knowledge and skill? Primarily from the masters of Conjury found in Gridania, though I’ve been gleaning so much from the other guildmasters in Thaumaturgy and the masters of the Arcane…they don’t realize it, but I learn a great deal from my friends in the Company and, well…every day is a learning experience, when you’re someone whose calling is in nature and the life-force around us.

26. How would you describe your childhood in general? I would rather not describe it at all, thank you. But if I must…it was noisy, chaotic, and you had to look out for yourself. Everyone had their 'favorite’ siblings, but that didn’t mean you weren’t ridiculed by them, even if it was all in good fun. I rarely saw my parents, if ever. They may have been aunts and uncles, or siblings, for all I know.

27. As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up? Something other than “Number Eight.”

28. When and with whom was your first kiss? …it is not common knowledge, but…(now she feels bad for lying about it) It was shortly before I left. I had feelings for someone, but they were family. Who else would it have been? We were very insular, so…I couldn’t leave without telling him - my uncle - how I felt. Had he answered me different, perhaps I never would have left. But here I am.

29. Are you a virgin? If not, when and with whom did you lose your virginity? My first time time was around three years ago with my adventuring partner and co-owner of the Floating Leaves, Galen Aubrey. As of two years ago, he is no longer around, though I aim to find him.

30. Do you have a notorious or celebrated ancestor? Does that affect you? (Fram mentally rolls her eyes. Her entire family is notorious.) No.

Influences

31. What do you consider the most important event of your life so far? Leaving home, by far.

32. What do you consider your greatest achievement? I do not think I’ve done anything worth bragging over. Perhaps becoming an archon mage, though I have much further still to go.

33. What is your greatest regret? See: First Kiss.

34. What is the most embarrassing or shameful thing ever to happen to you? See: Greatest Regret.

35. Do you have any secrets? If so, what are they? If I told you I had none, you wouldn’t believe me. So instead, I’ll tell you: I have plenty of secrets. Truth always comes out in due time. This is not that time.

…and, erm…perhaps I fib a little bit about how naive I am. That doesn’t mean I enjoy talking about it!

36. What is the most evil thing you have ever done? I suppose that depends upon who you ask. I have slain many creatures in my travels. I would be shocked if that hasn’t contributed to the wrath of the elementals.

37. When was the time you were the most frightened? My first thunderstorm away from home. I quite sincerely believed I would be washed away or struck by lightning.

38. Have you ever traveled outside of your country? If so, to where? I tend to stay close to those I am familiar with. If I were to travel further, I would want company.

Beliefs

39. What is your alignment? I try to do what is right and fair for all involved. I shy away from breaking rules when I can help it. (Lawful Good)

40. Are you basically optimistic or pessimistic? Primarily optimistic, I like to think? Though perhaps pessimistic in certain realms…

41. Do you believe in a god? If so, which one and why? I believe in the existence of greater powers. Often others find themselves worshiping these greater powers as their 'gods.’ While I do not deny their existence, I do question their sovereignty.

42. Do you believe in an afterlife? I believe in Reincarnation, if we wish to go into the specifics of what happens when you die.

43. What is your greatest fear? That all that I am putting myself through will be for naught.

44. What makes you angry? Sad? Happy? Why? Suffering makes me sad. Ignoring it makes me angry. Putting an end to it is what brings me joy. If you have to ask why, you are part of the problem.

45. Do you think people are basically good or basically evil? I think people are basically selfish. You’d assume that such a quality would mean that they are evil, but everything requires balance. If you neglect self, those around you will suffer as well. I believe everyone is capable of balance, though it may require more work for others.

46. What are your views on politics? Religion? Sex? My family either manipulated politics to their benefit, or acted starkly against them. I tend to operate independent of them, though I suppose that’s impossible after a certain point, considering the current Eorzean climate.

While I do not subscribe to a current faith, I do find religion to be something that is typically of benefit to society. If religion is what drives people to do good for others, I find the end justifies the means.

I have heard many differing views on sex. I do not find that the possibility of dying is justifiable reason to bed with anyone you fancy. After all, what if you survive the next day and regret it? You have to weigh one regret against the other, and I would rather not deal with that.

47. What are your views on gambling, lying, theft, and killing? If someone chooses to gamble, that is their own business. Everyone lies. Sometimes it’s for their own sake. The truth always comes out, and they will have to face the consequences when it does. If that’s the choice they wish to make, so be it.

Theft is unacceptable. There are plenty of groups and parties who distribute goods out of charity. It is only a matter of finding them.

Killing and murder are different things. Both are unfortunate, while murder is something that must have its consequences.

48. How far will you go to defend your beliefs? It depends on what’s at stake. Different beliefs can co-exist, after all.

49. How much do you value money? I like to have enough to afford the creature comforts I’d rather not do without. But I do not feel the need to hoard all that I earn.

50. In your opinion, what is the most evil thing any human being could do? The torture and slaughter of innocents.

51. Do you believe in self-sacrifice for the greater good? Only if you are absolutely certain it will work.

52. Do you believe in the existence of soul mates and/or true love? …I haven’t given it much thought.

53. Are you superstitious? Oh, no! Haha…absolutely not.

54. How much do you respect the beliefs and opinions of others? I…believe I am pretty respectful? I at least try to be. That isn’t really a question you should be asking me.

55. How honest are you about your thoughts and feelings? I may not give the entire truth, but I always give the truth. Almost always.

56. Do you have any biases or prejudices? I tend to favor those who exhibit some form of self-restraint. I do not find such behavior to be difficult, so I cannot exactly wrap my mind around why people would be so reckless, loud, or flamboyant.

I also tend to look down on those that are lazy. Inexcusable.

Dealing With Others

57. Who is the most important person in your life, and why? I…don’t know. (those words feel so strange coming out of her mouth) I mean, it sounds strange, but I don’t feel as though I deserve to claim that any of my family is, but I haven’t really known anyone that long, and…I don’t know. I don’t have anyone. (Which is strange. She’s never fancied herself a Lone Wolf.)

58. Who is the person you respect the most? Despise the most? Why? There is such a fine line, how quickly love can cross-over into complete hatred, isn’t it? (That may be the best answer she has to offer.) As for respect, there are several. Perhaps what attracted me to Galen so long ago was the respect I had for him.

59. Do you have a significant other? Who? I did, once.

60. Do you have a lot of friends? Who is your best friend? I have several friends. Who I may feel I am closest to may not be reciprocated. I’m afraid to say.

61. How do you relate to members of the same race? Class? Sex? I have found that I have yet to run into any other Keepers that have quite the same outlook as I do. They are usually much sharper and cunning than I am. I fear they typically run circles around me. They are usually in much better shape physically than I am, too. More ruthless, more dangerous. I really am no match for them.

I’ve noticed a peculiar dearth of Healers so far. I wonder where they all are?

62. How do you relate to members of a different race? Class? Sex?

There are too many variants to the 'race’ aspects that I could not even endeavor to answer that concisely. I seem to get on best with Arcanists, since they are the next closest thing to Conjurers. I have a healthy respect for Disciples of War, for they do something I would never be capable of.

As for members of the opposite gender, as long as they are polite and not over-bearing, I think I am able to carry a conversation with them. I’m not sure if I can 'relate’ to them, however…

63. Have you ever been in love? If so, describe what happened. How does any young girl fall in love? A man, often older than you, pays you the smallest amount of positive attention, extends an act of kindness, and in a matter of seconds - minutes, at most - he becomes your world. He is none the wiser, and ultimately, all the better for it.

First love is always foolish, and nearly always doomed. It is often romanticized as some magical moment, but for me, it was poison. It was the only thing that kept me nailed to complacency, and it wasn’t until I had destroyed it myself that I was truly set free.

64. What do you look for in a potential lover? I don’t look. Even if he were to push me, challenge me - love is for comfort and settling, is it not? There is no place for the word “love” in my vocabulary.

65. How close are you to your family? …I am close to my family in varying degrees of intimacy. Some I would rather not engage with, others I miss daily.

66. Do you want a marriage, family, and/or children? Perhaps when I am satisfied with the person I have become. I have not reached that point in my life.

67. Do you tend to argue with people, or avoid conflict? I am rather fearful of confrontation, though if someone states something that is blatantly false, I consider it a duty to speak out against it.

68. Are you a listener or a talker? …I have been known to veer on both sides of that extreme.

69. How long does it usually take for you to trust others? Longer than I would like, and with good reason.

70. Do you hold grudges? I do not forget patterns of behavior, but everyone gets one slight against me. After that I tend to keep at arm’s length.

71. Do you tend to take on leadership roles in social situations? Oh, I would really rather not. There are far better people for those sorts of roles. Zi, for one. A’Mirah, Arcene…anyone, really.

72. Do you like interacting with large groups of people? The larger the group, the easier I blend in…

73. How well do you express yourself? I think I am proficient at expressing myself when necessary. There are times when others don’t understand me, but I don’t think that’s my fault?

74. How quickly do you judge others? Quite quickly. And usually–though not always–I’m pretty well on the mark. I think.

75. Do you care what others think of you? Not terribly. I tend to keep to myself. (She totally cares.)

76. Do you have any enemies? How or why are they your enemy? I have people I like to stay away from. Why would I ever want to mingle with unsavory sorts? I’m not sure if I would call them enemies…they would have to know who I am, for starters, and I’m just a nobody.

Personal Taste and Opinions

77. What is your favorite pastime? Color? Food? Possession? Bathing. (Totally serious.) Aqua blue and pink (wasn’t she asked this a few times before?). Fish and other seafood.

And I have a beautiful knife with a pearlized handle adorned with jewels. It’s…rather expensive-looking, so I don’t usually pull it out unless necessary.

78. What are your preferences in arts and/or entertainment? Culinary arts is my preference, actually. I haven’t had much exposure in most other arts, I’m afraid. I find literature to be my favorite form of entertainment.

79. Do you smoke, drink, go whoring, or use drugs? Why or why not?. …I’ll drink something if it’s sweet or floral enough. Typically it’s if I’m too tense or if I’m mentally stumped on a problem. Other than that, I do not partake in any other indulgences along those lines.

80. How do you spend a typical Saturday night? Either working or practicing some alchemy.

81. What is your most cherished fantasy? To make a noticeable dent in the world’s suffering as a result of my knowledge.

82. How long is your attention span? …admittedly not very good, unless I isolate myself. My mind never really stops going, and it’s quick to derail any train of thought I might have…Perhaps if I were to focus better, I’d be further along my studies by now.

83. Do you laugh a lot? What do you find funny? I’ve never thought about it…I suppose I laugh when I find something amusing, or if I’m flattered by something…which is often enough, so, I suppose I do laugh more than average?

84. Is there anything that shocks or offends you? If so, what? Oh, far too many to list. I strongly believe that there are many things that should be kept private, so when I hear people talking about their affairs in such lackadaisical ways, I find myself at a loss.

85. How do you deal with stress? I bathe. Or read. Or–both, actually! Usually with a nice cup of rose or lavender tea.

86. How much athletic ability do you have? Artistic? Athletic? Absolutely none. I am a complete klutz. I’ve been that way since early childhood. (See: Earliest memory.) Artistic..? Hmm…I don’t really think I have anything along those lines, either. I’m more analytical than creative.

87. Do you like animals? Do you like children? I like both of those things very much! Enough to want to dedicate my life to protecting them.

88. Are you spontaneous, or do you always need to have a plan? Always. Plan. Ahead. Always.

89. What are your pet peeves? …spontaneity? –And laziness.

Self-Image

90. What is your greatest strength as a person? Weakness? My intellect is my greatest strength. My weakness is most certainly my inability to focus. (At least, this is how she sees it.)

91. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be? …it’s hard to narrow it down to just one thing. I suppose that lack of focus would be a good place to start. And maybe that thing that seems to summon rain whenever I step outdoors…(but she’s not superstitious or anything) My near-sightedness would be lovely to rid myself of too, come to think of it. My inability to wear a longer hairstyle? Though I suppose short hair is more practical…oh! And it’d be nice if I could be a little more intimidating. Perhaps then thugs and rabble-rousers would stop pestering me. I’d also like to be a lot prettier. Maybe larger breasts?

92. Are you generally introverted or extroverted? Most definitely introverted, unless around others of my profession.

93. Do you like yourself? …well, nobody’s perfect.

94. Do you have a daily routine? How do you feel if your day is interrupted? Nothing is routine, except for my hot bath at the end of my day. If that doesn’t happen, the morning to follow will be horrendous.

95. What goal do you most want to accomplish in the next six months? Your lifetime? Next six months? I would like to master all of the magic arts there are to learn in Eorzea. As for my lifetime…I would like to see a time of tranquility before I die, even if it’s just within my small circle of friends.

96. Where do you see yourself in 5 years? 10 years? 20 years? I cannot even begin to imagine. Perhaps founding a magic school of my own? I think I would do well as a teacher.

97. If you could choose, how would you want to die? Peacefully, surrounded by those that I love. Barring that, saving someone else.

98. What is the one thing you would like to be remembered for after your death?

I don’t need to remembered for any one thing. I would just like to be recalled fondly.

99. What three words would you use to best describe your personality? Diligent, studious, private.

100. What three words would others probably use to describe you? Gullible, boring, bossy.

101. Why are you risking your life to adventure? For the sake of knowledge, and to make adventuring less “risky.”

[multiracialmedia-blog]

Multiracial Family Man: Who is Alex Barnett and Why Should You Care?

Alex Barnett, host of the Multiracial Family Man podcast, and his wife.

So yeah, we have this awesome podcast, “Multiracial Family Man,” featured weekly here on MultiracialMedia.com. Maybe you’ve enjoyed it, maybe you’ve been meaning to but haven’t gotten around to it, or maybe you haven’t been interested. But you need to know about Alex Barnett, the Multiracial Family Man—a gifted comic/performer, passionate advocate in the Multiracial Community, and co-creator of MultiracialMedia.com.

Alex’s work is family-focused. His bio states, “As the White, Jewish husband of a Black woman (who converted to Judaism) and the father of a 5-year-old, Biracial son, I examine the challenges of being a parent in a bad economy and the issues that confront multiracial families (including the dynamics between members of the same family who are of different races). He’s also co-creator of the comic strip, The Bronze Panther, about a four-year-old, Biracial superhero.”

He has performed at the 2016 Blend Conference at Cornell University, the 2015 Mixed-Remixed Festival in Los Angeles, and at the 2012 New Orleans Loving Festival. This topic is central not only to Alex’s home life, but much of his career.

Q: When and Why Did You Start Thinking of Yourself as a “Multiracial Family Man?”

A: This evolution from mild-mannered me to “Multiracial Family Man” happened as a result of my work as a comic. I was devoting more of my set onstage (and my offstage writings in essays, articles and blogs) to my thoughts and concerns about being the White dad of a son who is African-American. I thought long and hard about how my son would feel as he got older and learned the history of the country as it relates to race. I wondered whether and how I would be able to advise him about things that I’d never experienced personally but that might happen to him as Man of Color. I still think about that frequently. The more I thought about this, the more I wrote about it and talked about it onstage, and I developed the podcast to explore these kinds of issues with others in the Community.

Q: What was Most Surprising, Most Unexpected For You About Creating a Multiracial Family?

A: The most surprising and unexpected thing, by far, is the double standard in the way in which White people and People of Color (and especially Women of Color) are treated. It blows my mind sometimes. My son and I could hang upside down from a lamppost and act completely silly and no one would say a thing. But when my wife is alone with him, people ask her if he’s hers (implying that she’s the nanny), or they’ll feel no compunction about offering her stern advice about how to control or raise or otherwise behave toward our son. People of all races seem to have no problem telling my wife how she should conduct herself around our son and how she should be raising him/treating him. I guess that’s a form of White privilege that I’m benefiting from. Or, it’s racism toward my wife (or genderism), or maybe a little bit of all of that.

Q: What was the Impetus for the Podcast?

A: I became more and more fascinated as a result of my own musings about my own family about issues confronting Multiracial people and people within Multiracial families. After our son was born, I wanted to be on the road less, so I needed to find a way to continue to explore these issues and pursue my passion from home.

Q: How do you Address this Topic in your Stand-up Comedy?

A: That was the genesis of what became the podcast. Much of my set is about being in an interracial marriage and being the White dad of an African-American son. Here are two quick examples:

1. Buddies of mine, White guys, have frequently asked me: “Why a Black woman?” My response: “Because Black guys don’t do it for me.”

2. What happens when my son comes to me later in life for advice about stuff I’ve never experienced. For example, what happens when he says: “Dad, I need advice on how to be a strong Black man.” “How do I know? I’m not even a strong White man.”

Q: Before you Married and Had a Son, Had You Ever Paid Any Attention to Multiracial Couples, Families or People?

A: Before being married, I’d dated women of other religions, races and ethnicities, so I was familiar with that context and had paid some attention to it, but I didn’t focus on it to the degree I do now. Having a kid definitely changes (and sharpens) your focus on everything related to your personal life. For example, I am desperate to use the bathroom alone for once. I’d really like to sleep in. In all seriousness, having a kid is the one thing to guarantee to make you less selfish and more generous and altruistic (at least towards your child).

Q: What Do You Strive to Achieve with Each Podcast?

A: I hope to get my guest(s) to relax and take the listeners and me on a journey through their life stories. I hope that they’ll open up perhaps share stories they never have before and maybe come to realizations about themselves or life that they never had before. Along the way, my goal is to help inform and educate about the Multiracial experience and to provide listeners with a meaningful experience that will resonate powerfully with them.

Q: What Have the Responses Been to the Podcast?

A: The response has been overwhelmingly positive. I wanted to do this because it was something I cared about deeply, and I thought it would be interesting to people. What I’ve learned is that there’s a real hunger in the Multiracial Community to hear stories about themselves.

The Community is growing quickly, but popular culture has not kept pace. There is far too little of the Multiracial Community shown on screen, onstage, in the culture generally. While that’s changing, the Community still is under-represented in society. It’s been my experience that the members of the Community really relish and appreciate those stories and those pieces of content that speak to their experience.

Q: What Are Your Main Takeaways From These Podcasts?

A: 1. Multiracial people continue to grapple with simultaneously belonging to several groups, and yet not being fully welcomed in those groups.

2. Multiracial people, especially women, are the subject of fetishization and exotification at a rate far beyond what you might think. I think that virtually every Multiracial woman I’ve interviewed has told me that people have wanted to date them because they were seen as “exotic.”

3. Multiracial people are exhausted by being asked “What are you?”

4. Racism is far more pervasive and prevalent than you might think, given that we live in the 21st Century. Yet individual people about whom you might think the worst and expect the least will so often surprise you by how accepting and generous of spirit they are.

5. Doing a podcast is a lot of work!!

Q: How Does the Content of Your Podcasts Impact the Way You View Yourself and Your Family?

By focusing on issues of race and racism with such frequency, my sensitivity to these issues is heightened. I don’t think it’s changed the way I view myself or my family, but I’m more keenly sensitive to race as a general matter.

Q: What Do You Wish That all Interracially-married People Knew?

A: The woman isn’t always right, but she’s never wrong (how’s that?) Seriously, I don’t think there’s one thing. Race is important, to be sure. But in marriage, it’s just about people interacting and inter-relating and getting along. That’s not about race. That’s about agreeing to live your life with another person.

Q: What Do You Think That All Parents of Mixed-race Children Should Know—the Most Important Thing?

A: Well, I think it might depend on what the mix is. But, presumably, the one issue, especially if one parent is White and the other is a Person of Color is that society still is biased against Persons of Color, and, at some point, issues of race, racism and power dynamics will be a conversation (or conversations) that you will have to have with your child.

Q: What Has Been Your Biggest Learning Curve in Parenting a Mixed-race Child?

A: I think the biggest thing I’ve learned is the different ways in which Persons of Color (especially women) are perceived and treated versus how White people are treated. This hasn’t really come up at all with our son. It’s really been an issue that I’ve seen with how my wife is treated versus how I’m treated.

Q: What is Your Vision for MultiracialMedia.com?

A: That we will take over the World (too much?)

Honestly, the initial reason that Sarah and I started Multiracial Media was to provide a showcase—available 365 days a year—for the myriad voices of the Multiracial Community. We envisioned it as akin to a Telemundo or BET but for the Multiracial Community—a platform that would provide original content speaking to the Multiracial experience and a safe space for Community members to submit and post their own writings and artistic expressions about their Multiracial experience.

Q: What Would You Like to Add?

I love being a dad, and I’m privileged and honored to be a member of the Multiracial Community.

Multiracial Family Man: Who is Alex Barnett and Why Should You Care? if you want to check out other voices of the Multiracial Community click here Multiracial Media

[amyalicechristensen-blog]

Confiding on Conferences

I think attending conferences is the most important thing one can do for personal growth. Occupational conferences provide the latest information, technology and theory in one’s professional field. Conferences associated with a hobby or special interest spark creativity.  Religious conferences can deepen one’s faith and provide enlightenment. However, for me, I think the most important aspect of the conference environment (and the one aspect all conferences have in common) is that it allows me to connect with other people who share something with me; whether that connection is through my occupation, special interest or religion.  

At nearly every conference I have attended, my mind has been blown wide open with new information.  Or maybe some elusive concept suddenly comes sharply into focus with profound understanding.  There is always something new to be learned, even if you are considered an expert in your field or a guru of your faith.  A conference brings me together with like-minded people who can impart to me their unique and individual perspective towards that passion which we share.  A conference is intensive, and creative education intensified by human connection.

Particularly after attending Paganicon in Minneapolis this March, I’m going as far as to say that in my opinion, no one has any business being an educator or mentor if they don’t attend some sort of conference every few years or so.  In fact, someone truly devoted to their work, special interest or faith maybe should be trying to attend as many conferences as they can afford. I think that a true passion deserves true devotion.  

One of the best examples I can offer as a demonstration of the importance of conferences came from performer Kari Tauring in her Nordic Roots Workshop at Paganicon.  Ms. Tauring is devoted to her Norwegian heritage. She has spent a considerable amount of time researching the indigenous faith practices of the Norwegian people. She believes that religious faith is centered in the music, dances and folklore of the people.  Most of her workshop was spent trying to teach a lot of us awkward pagans how to dance like a Viking.  It went far deeper than dipping and shuffling our feet - we were making the Scandinavian runes with our own bodies as we danced.  Once I let go of whether I was bending my knees at the right time, the act of becoming Mannaz, the rune for community, by being in community, solidified the meaning of this magic symbol for me in a way that goes far beyond words or language.

Ms. Tauring really rocked my spiritual world though with her simple translation of a basic divination with Runes – the three Rune draw.  She explained that each of those three Runes correlates to each of the three Norns of Scandinavian mythology.  The Norns have the responsibility for the Wyrd, which translates most closely to “fate.” Urd is represented by the first Rune draw, Her responsibility is that of the past, what once was.  Verdandi is represented by the second Rune which is commonly associated with the present, but according to Ms. Tauring, Her responsibility is really over “that which is becoming.”  Most people assume (incorrectly) that the third Rune, in the basic three Rune draw represents the future, but Skuld, the final Norn has a responsibility that isn’t quite that easy to articulate.  Really what the great Skuld governs is something akin to “that which is likely.” She represents what is most probable given what was, and what is becoming.  

Ms. Tauring then related the Norns concepts to heritage as a whole.  She related that if you spend time studying where you came from, you can more easily predict what you might become; but more importantly, if you don’t like that direction, you can arm yourself with the tools to change it.    

I have had many spiritual teachers who have stressed the importance of reverence of one’s own ancestors as a cornerstone of pagan faith practice.  I was told time and time again to make space in my home for an ancestor alter and make daily offerings to these dead people.  I didn’t just disagree with my teachers, this idea that my faith depended on my ancestors made me profoundly angry.  I have done extensive research on my family history.  Trust me when I tell you, none of these miserable, abusive alcoholics belong on an alter of any kind.  I will not honor such lives.  Their values do not in any way correspond to the kind of person I am or hope to become.  

Time and time again I was admonished for my refusal to clear space for my family alter.  I repeatedly demanded to know why my faith rested on my ancestors.  I was never given a satisfactory answer.  Ms. Tauring, however, finally made everything expressly clear.  Many, if not most of the living family that I still have continues down a path of misery, addiction and abuse…there is at least one person who is veering from that path – she who keeps the records and knows the past – that one person is me.  There is a new branch on my family tree, one that is strong and healthy, one that smiles and laughs and finds hope.  My son will not be an alcoholic.  He will not abuse his wife or his children.  He will not because he knows his past and his path.  Ms. Tauring gave me the answer I needed:  Know your legacy, know yourself - know your power.

Still not ever going to have an ancestor alter.  My faith is quite strong without one, thanks.

While I may have been ambiguous about my feelings towards ancestor reverence, I did not think I had any ambiguity when it came to the Underworld.  I was so sure that I knew death.  Well, really, it is beyond the scope of the human mind to fully know the mysteries of death and the Underworld; but I did think I had some rather meaningful understanding.  I have after all, been dead, more than once in this lifetime.  That and my devotion to the Queen of the Underworld, Persephone, made me think I had acquired a working knowledge of the Underworld and death. However, Michelle Belanger’s Underworld Meditation, Rite of Seven Gates left me speechless.  

I was so profoundly moved by the experience that it took several hours before I resumed to my chatty nature.  I did however, manage to ask Ms. Belanger one question.  “How do I continue this type of work?”  I grunted.  It was so difficult to get those words out of my mouth I do hope she did not find me morose and rude.  She was hesitant to recommend her own book on the subject but I emphatically pressed her to do that very thing.  It was her meditation that had touched me so deeply that it altered my consciousness and my very nature.  She clearly had something to say, and although I didn’t know it at the time I chose her meditation from the conference schedule, I realized that it was exactly what I was craving to learn.  Michelle Belanger showed me a new perspective on a landscape I was so sure that I knew so well.  I learned that it is only when I open myself to experience something new in what is so familiar, that I truly grow.  A conference is a surefire way to that experience.  I bought Ms. Belanger’s book, Walking the Twilight Path, at the Paganicon conference and I had her autograph it.  I am dying to read it…and yes that bad pun was intended.

Not all things at a conference need to be so intense.  Even though I had neglected to bring one of my own elaborate costumes for the ball, I went anyway in a plain black dress.  I enjoy marveling at other people’s creativity in costuming as much as I enjoy making and wearing my own, and maybe perhaps more so.  People are so fascinating to me, I have a hard time designating anyone as “ugly” because all I see is beauty when I look at people. Particularly in a costume ball setting where people are putting all of their creativity and everything that they like about themselves to the forefront.  

And the band!  The band was so good.  The Nathaniel Johnstone Band teams Steampunk with Greek Mythology.  Gods! What is not to love?  

I studied dance for many years.  I know several different styles.  Nathaniel Johnstone had me combine them all and whip my new bob haircut around with reckless abandon.  I drew considerable attention to myself…whether it was positive or negative attention really matters little.  It was the abandon that was important.  I’m now an avid fan of this band (also purchased an autographed CD, thank you very much). Had I not jumped in with both feet and attended Paganicon, and then made myself go to the ball without a costume, I would never have known about them and the joy they have to give to their audience.  

I was nervous about attending Paganicon.  I was mostly attending because I had bravely submitted Accidental Talismans for programming consideration, and to my great anxiety I had been accepted.  My room was filled, all of my handouts were taken, and several people gave me compliments about the affect my work made upon them. Yes! I learned so much from the workshops I attended, but I also learned something during the workshop I presented: my passion has relevance.  

Conferences are where like-minds meet to share relevance.

The next conference I’m attending (I’m not presenting at this one) is in my home city of Chicago. My son and I are super fans of the CW Television show Supernatural (now in its 12 season).  We are going to go meet the actors who play our fictional heroes. I’m not disclosing the amount of the tickets.  The money spent isn’t what is relevant.  But trust me on this, this Supernatural Conference? It isn’t just relevant, it’s significant. And I can’t wait to attend.