how do we know in the books that john is indigenous? can you say more about how his indigeneity is important to his story?
hello! so there is a word of god post on race (doesn't mention John but mentions that Gideon is "mixed Maori"), BUT I frankly don't think word of god statements are worth any weight without actual in-text support (see: the "dumbledore is gay" situation). SO!
Specific evidence that John Gaius is Maori, as revealed in Nona the Ninth:
When he is listing his education, John mentions having gone to Dilworth School (John 20:8). Dilworth is an all boys boarding school in Auckland and accepts students based on financial need instead of academic or sporting achievements. Demographics appear to be about 70% low income Maori boys, indicating that it is highly likely that John is Maori
John reports that P- said he looked like a "Maori-TV pink panther" (John 15:23) when his eyes turned gold. Maori TV is a TV station that is focused primarily on Maori culture & language revitalization, with presumably all or mostly Maori hosts, and tbh I don't see why P- would say this unless John was himself Maori
John uses a te reo Māori phrase ("kia kaha, kia māia") (John 5:20) when he is saying goodbye to the corpses in the cryo lab before the power is shut off. Though it is possible he said this as a non-Maori kiwi, but in combination with the previous two points of evidence I think this all very strongly points to him being Maori
He also renames his daughter Kiriona Gaia, "Kiriona" being just literally the name "Gideon" in te reo Māori
TLT is not a series that hands you anything on a silver platter but to ME this is all pretty solid proof
Why is this relevant to The Locked Tomb?
In Nona the Ninth, we learn that before he completed apotheosis and ate the solar system, John was basically trying to save the earth from capitalism-caused climate change. Climate justice and the rights of indigenous people over their own land are deeply tied together, in the same way that climate catastrophe and capitalism/ imperialism/ colonialism are linked. disclaimer that this is NOT my area of study and others have definitely said it better; this is just the basic gist as I understand it, but on quick search I found some sources here and here if you want to do some reading.
TLT is not a series that hands you anything on a silver platter, but i don't think it is a stretch to see John as an indigenous man trying to save the earth and getting ignored and shut down at every turn by primarily western colonial powers (PanEuro, the USA) who declare him a terrorist and then as a reader thematically connecting that to the experience of indigenous climate activists IRL
there are absolutely TLT meta posts that have discussed this before me; tumblr search is nonfunctional and I have been looking for an hour and a half and cannot find anything specific even though i KNOW i reblogged multiple posts about this in the first few weeks following NTN's release. sad & I am sorry
I think that by the time the books take place, John is 10k years removed from the cultural context he grew up in, with the Nine Houses having become a genocidal colonial power in their own right (with more parallels to be made between John's forever war for the resources of literal life energy and like, oil wars), but I also think that John Gaius is a fictional character who can represent and symbolize multiple different things in service of telling a story. (not to mention the potential thematic parallels being made to how oppressed people sometimes are pressed into replicating the power dynamics of their oppressors and continuing the cycle--now that is a tumblr post i KNOW i read last year and definitely cannot find right now, once again sad & I am sorry)
How Radical Was John Gaius, Really is a forum thread that was locked by the moderators after 234534645674564 pages of heated debate
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If I see one more person misconstrue good-faith criticism against Thomas Sanders and the way he’s handling his series, I’m going to scream.
Yes, there are people who genuinely despise the man, and are nitpicking anything that can prove that he is an evil person. There are people who are constantly pestering Thomas about the long wait, demanding the content they want this instant. Those people aren’t being productive with their criticism, and I can understand being frustrated with them. Hell, I’M frustrated with them!
But there ARE valid criticisms. Thomas has recently been very bad with handling questions about the series, as his recent Twitter posts have shown, and he hasn’t been transparent about what’s going on with Sanders Sides.
If you don’t take anything else away from this post, THAT’S what we’re upset about. We aren’t upset about the wait itself. We will GLADLY wait days, months, YEARS for this series we love. We already HAVE waited years, and we likely will continue to do so! But we don’t know what’s going ON. He has given us very few updates, and in the few updates he has given us, he has been INCREDIBLY VAGUE.
And he CAN BE VAGUE, just ACKNOWLEDGE IT.
“Hey guys! This series is taking longer than I thought it would for reasons I don’t feel comfortable disclosing! I can’t give you an exact date for when the next part will be out because I don’t know when it’ll be done, but it will take a long time! Please be patient, thank you!”
THAT’S IT! That’s all we want! But as far as I know, he hasn’t announced an official hiatus or anything of the sort. He has just said that he’s “working on it”, which doesn’t tell us ANYTHING.
If he is prioritizing Roleslaying or another project, THAT’S FINE! Just TELL US, so we don’t expect something we aren’t going to get!
People have brought up how the series used to be as part of their argument, on both sides. The production quality was lower, but updates were more frequent. I won’t argue about which era of the series was better. But the point I want to make is that Thomas set up a precedent. After years of this series, we’ve come to expect this type of update schedule.
And now, obviously, it’s changed. And that’s FINE. But when a precedent has been established, and then it’s changed without any kind of announcement, it’s reasonable that people are confused and kinda thrown off! And we would be a lot less confused if Thomas would TELL US WHAT’S GOING ON!
I don’t know Thomas personally. I’ve never interacted with him. I’m sure he’s a lovely man. But he can be a wonderful person AND be irresponsible interacting with his fans. Not every bit of criticism thrown at Thomas is a direct attack against his character! Kindness and irresponsibility aren’t mutually exclusive! And yes, there ARE people using these recent tweets as attacks against Thomas as a person. You can be upset about that. But there are also people analyzing these responses and (rightfully so in my opinion) asking for some accountability!
I understand that he’s frustrated! I would be as well, in his circumstance! And there ARE people who are being incredibly rude and unhelpful in demanding that Thomas pump out Sanders Sides content at a faster pace! That is incredibly unreasonable!
But that isn’t what everyone is saying to him! Many people are being perfectly polite and asking for the smallest bit of clarity! And yes, this can also be really frustrating! But it isn’t completely unwarranted! When you don’t say anything, people ask questions! And the best way to stop people from asking questions? ANSWER SOME OF THEM!
You can still be a fan of the series that Thomas made AND be critical of him and the series. The fact that we take the time to express and convey these criticisms in a manner we hope to be constructive is a testament to the love we have for it, and the potential we don’t feel it’s reaching. So don’t you DARE suggest that we are any less part of this fandom, or “fake fans”, because we see some flaws in the system. We can love something and acknowledge it’s flaws. You are no better than us because you are standing on the other side of this argument.
If I’ve missed anything, which I likely have, then feel free to correct anything I’ve gotten incorrect. I know my perspective may have some gaps. But I’d like to have a conversation with someone who disagrees with me, rather than someone seeing the words “ts criticism” and immediately assuming that we are ungrateful little shits who hate everything Thomas stands for.
Once again, I apologize for the wave of criticism on my blog. You are more than welcome to unfollow or block me of that makes you upset, no hard feelings on my side. But I wanted to say something, and I doubt my stance will change. I hope, going forward, that we can discuss the ups and downs of this series without fingers being pointed or accusations being thrown. From BOTH sides.
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back on my chip nightmare arc yippee
tw for: unreality (the dream/nightmare kind), nightmare, disturbing images, blood, crying, drowning, and implied (dream) suicide! so yknow. lots of fun things.
all of this is unfinished and unedited, some bits are meant to be rewritten parts of the first section. i want to rewrite and edit this, i really really do, but brain won't let me so here she is. i've never written a nightmare before so feel free to critique if u read it !!
"You'll never be a real pirate," hisses the monster with his father's face. Tears stream down his cheeks, but even through the blur of his tears he makes out the shape of a glowing purple eye, tattoos red waves, glowing and thrashing across his shoulders.
"I will," he returns. The voice he uses has not been his for many years.
He is six years old. His father fades into shadow, his eye still a luminescent purple against the darkness.
"Leave him there," whisper the shadows. Softer, now. Long hair, fins, wings, curled hair-
His mother cards her fingers through his hair.
"You'll be fine."
His mother sounds like Jay.
"We'll catch you," she whispers. She's laughing. She's crying. Maybe it doesn't matter.
"Fall," says the boy who stole his father's face. "All real pirates know how to walk a plank."
He falls.
He chokes-- tears roll down his face-- a crack of thunder. He's making an ocean. He can't stop, he can't breathe. He claws at his neck, coughing, coughing, coughing-
A bluebird sings.
Coral pierces through his neck. He can breathe. He traces his fingers over the shape of its spines and wishes he was afraid to find comfort in a place such as this.
A bluebird lands in the palm of his hand. There is coral growing out of her wings.
"I'm sorry," he whispers.
The bird does not answer.
The waves crash against the dock. She cradles a bluebird in the palms of her hands and watches a little boy beg a pirate to let him go with them.
The pirate says yes, and she wonders when the boy will remember that family has nothing to do with blood, that home has never been a place to them, that when he learns the weight of the words he wields, he will fall into the ocean and all he'll know from then is loss-
"Let me hold him," she tells the bluebird, xyr grip is waning, xyr hold on the bird trembling.
It looks back with familiar eyes, ocean blue and gold. He walks, stumbling as if he's never walked on a ship before.
The bluebird is gone. He is running. He opens and closes doors.
He is seven years old. He lost something. He can't remember what it is, but it's important.
Someone calls his name, as if he's never been Chip. The shape of the words are unfamiliar, but he lifts his head and lets them guide him home.
Her arms are warm.
"Wait," he pleads, "I'm- forgetting something."
Her arms do not listen.
"Please," he squirms, "mum, please-"
She lets him go, he rushes to the door leading to the lower deck. The room splits into three, three doors. He opens one. More doors.
It's a maze, he realizes, too long, too late, is he going in circles?
He is six years old. There are no pirates.
He is five. He is gathering fallen pink petals and giving them to a woman with no face.
He is four. He knows what it is to be hungry.
Three. A waste and a bother.
Two. Is anyone there?
One. Nothing.
He's older, now. He's never known how old he is, never had a birthday or someone who cared.
He is standing on a plank in a wrathful ocean, watching massive tentacles drag away his home to the depths.
His gaze wanders skyward, and he wonders, as he steps off the plank, what it might be like to fly.
//
Chip wakes up with tears on his face and a gentle hand carding through his hair.
"Hey," Jay whispers, meeting his eye, "You okay? You were crying."
His home stares him in the eyes, concern, love, carding her fingers through his hair, and he wonders when home became people instead of a place.
"Yeah," he whispers, "I'm okay."
//
Chip sits on the edge of his ship, drawing in the water with a stick as if it's sand.
A flock of crows settles on the sails, screeching like seagulls, and he sits, rocked by the infinite waves.
His brother stands behind him, a cloud of mist swirls about him, and the glow of his purple eye makes him appear as a ghost.
"You deserve this," hisses his brother's voice.
Chip curls further into himself, scratching at his drawing.
//
If it bleeds, it can die, and Chip bleeds and bleeds and bleeds and bleeds and bleeds-
"Gill," he says, and his voice bubbles and blood spews out of his mouth, dripping down his lips and he lifts his hand to wipe it away, but his fingers are dripping and warm and sticky, and Gillion does not answer, a smile plastered on his face.
"Jay?" he whispers, and he coughs, and he's dripping and wet, and he cries, tears mixing with the blood.
His breath catches, and he reaches up with his bloodied fingers and pulls off his bandana, and there is blood and he is bloody, and- an-
//
"Captain?" comes a gentle voice, and Chip takes a long, shaking breath and lifts his head from the railing.
Queen is there, quiet concern etched into her features, the crease of his brow prominent as he approaches.
"Are you alright?" she asks, and Chip breathes shakily, bracing his hands on the railing and willing himself back into his body.
"Fine," he croaks, tries not to flinch at Queen's fingers in his hair. He must not suppress it as well as he thought, because they hesitate before carefully running their fingers through his hair.
"You were dreaming?" Queen asks, and Chip nods, silent. His tongue sits heavy in his mouth. He leans back into Queen's hand with a deeper breath.
Queen hums.
"How about a song, captain?" they ask.
Chip's breath stammers. He nods.
She smiles, producing her oboe and bringing it up to her lips. A gentle, somber tune fills the air, and Chip listens, trying to keep his breath even.
The tune rises and falls, Chip imagines swoops and curls as her fingers dance along the instrument. His chest aches, he yawns.
Then a sour note makes Queen pause. They pull away, wet their lips with their tongue, and try again, but the tune remains unfinished, and they pull their Oboe away in defeat.
"Apologies, Captain, la-" they say, a gentle smile on their face, "it seems that is all I have."
"It was beautiful,” Chip offers, because it was. A chasm opens in his chest and whatever sense of calm he had is swallowed up by a big hole in the sea-
"Would you like a hug, la?"
Chip just sighs and opens his arms.
Hugging Queen is- is nice. She tucks him under her chin and wraps her arms underneath his, as if she's holding him up. She cradles the back of his head in one hand and gently rocks them back and forth, soothing in the way that the Albatross's rocking is, and he feels like he's home.
//
She stands atop the waves of an ever-storming sea, her skirts whipping about her knees.
In her hands is a small bluebird with pink coral growing out of its wings.
In the distance, she can see a large, wooden dock, and a small boy begging a giant to let him go with them.
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