#fun little footnote (hah!)

[rockethorse]

I'm kind of glad for TS2's limited wardrobe functionality sometimes because it would be a lot harder for me to enforce a low-CC threshold if shoes were their own thing, y'know

[dgrailwar]

Um, haha, sorry about the forest I guess? Man, Team Avenger’s really doing a lot of environmental destruction lately… I mean last time was sort of mostly my fault but like, I couldn’t help it that time, kinda. So, uh, sorry? I guess?

Anyways! *spawns pompoms out of nowhere* Go Avenger go! You got this! Devious plan is totally not a thing! Teehee! ☆

"So be it! Everything will burn in the presence of the Avenger! Gunner, Pretender... you will serve as decent footnotes, at the very least!"

"My god, that's Avenger? He's intense in every sense of the word... to think there are Heroic Spirits like that... hah! I'm actually having a little bit of fun here!"

-

Vote to see who wins the Free-for-All HERE!

[kai-keda]

cajun archeologist oc :0 give deets

BET

So this gay ass little dude right here?

This is Randall Barrilleaux

He is a Cajun who was born and raised in Lafayette, Louisiana

His name and status as an archeology student is based on Randall Ascot from Professor Layton and the Miracle Mask (my favorite PL character) and there are still quite a few similarities to him but the character has evolved to his own thing. Thanks in no small part to the fact that I heavily push the Cajun angle with him.

I’m telling ya, the day I realized nothing was stopping me from forcing Cajun rep into my favorite stories was the day I truly became free.

He is Cajun and as such he was raised Roman Catholic but by the time he starts going to school in a big university, he becomes more agnostic than anything. From a young age he became super interested in Journey to the West by chance and through studying the real-world history and anthropology connected to it, gained an obsession with archeology.

Another element that we have his Cajun routes to thank for is that he was raised bilingual - English and French (more specifically, a Creole dialect - every time I say he speaks French without that footnote, a European French person trips over a baguette)

Thanks to being raised bilingual, learning new languages was never a difficult thing for him. You could also say he has a natural talent for it. This helps a lot for his archeology study so he can read a lot of different languages, most clearly the dead/mostly dead ones like Latin and Middle Chinese.

He’s put most of his focus into learning different Chinese languages, though, cause of his specific interest in the history there.

Interactions between him and Red Son are a lot of fun because of that.

Red tries to trip him up with Middle Chinese one time and, while slow and a little rough, Randall manages to respond in kind. And then Randall later throws French in his direction and Red - someone who had spent a lot of time in the French part of India - is left feeling awkward and thinking that Randall’s butchering another language. Not realizing that it’s one of his native ones and that it’s actually just a dialect thing.

I primarily use Randall to ship with my fankid - Peter - as a “oh my God they were roommates” in college situation but it’s also fun to consider an alternate timeline where Randall starts interacting with the main crew during the time period of the show.

Randall almost gets sliced up for referring to Mei as “Cher” one time and is panicking too hard to figure out how to explain that it was an instinct and is a term of endearment. Meanwhile he uses “Couyon” quite a bit and NEVER tells anyone what’s up with that.

There’s more to him and the main timeline I have for him (thanks to an RP with a close friend lol) but I’ll end this post here hah

[yr-obedt-cicero]

Do you have any information on that time Philip Hamilton got deathly ill? Idk you seem to know a lot about him lol

Yes I know very much about my favorite little bitchboy lol

In September of 1797, fifteen year old Philip Hamilton fell deathly ill with what was described as a “bilious fever which soon assumed a typhus character”. Meaning that he would often suffer from delirium attacks, which is described as “an acutely disturbed state of mind that occurs in fever, intoxication, and other disorders and is characterized by restlessness, illusions, and incoherence of thought and speech.” Or, seeing/hearing things others don't, the patient not knowing where they are, and/or not recognizing family members. And also he would often lose his pulse.

Dr. John Charlton had been tending to the boy as Elizabeth had been struggling to do all she could while her husband was away. Though once hearing word of his eldest son's condition, the panicked elder Hamilton wrote to his wife in a hurry on the 12th of September;

“I am arrived here My Dear Eliza in good health but very anxious about my Dear Philip. I pray heaven to restore him and in every event to support you. If his fever should appear likely to prove obstinate, urge the Physician to consider well the propriety of trying the cold bath—I expect it will, if it continues assume a nervous type and in this case I believe the cold bath will be the most efficacious remedy—but still do not attempt it without the approbation of the Physician.”

(source)

And again just 6 days after, impatient and worrying of his son's condition;

I have received only one letter from my beloved Eliza since I left the city. I am very anxious to hear further and especially to know that my beloved Philip is recovered.

(source)

With Hamilton away from home, and the intensifying ailment of Philip, Elizabeth asked for physician, David Hosack, to help tend to their sickly son (Fun fact; David Hosack would also be the one to help tend to Philip during his last dying moments after a duel with George Eacker). Hosack would write a decently detailed recollection of Philip's time while sick on the 1st of January, 1888, to his younger brother John Church Hamilton in the future;

“I was first introduced into Your Father’s family as a physician, during the dangerous illness of your oldest brother Philip.… He was attacked with a severe, bilious fever which soon assumed a typhus character, attendant with symptoms which gave great alarm to his family and anxiety to his physician the late Dr. [John] Charlton.… The son’s complaints increasing in violence and danger, at the suggestion of Dr. Charlton and some of your family connexions I was called in consultation.”

(source - check footnotes)

Many were worried for Philip when time would press on and his state had only worsened. Hamilton was soon informed of the unlikelyhood that Philip was to survive. It was even to the point that Elizabeth had been advised to leave the room just in case, so that she would not see her son's last dying struggles (Hah, that's ironic).

“Great distress then existing in your family added to the anxiety pervading their numerous friends, indeed I may say the community. I resolved at the request of Mrs. Hamilton and of Dr. Charlton, to remain with your brother while his situation continued thus perilous. His disease continuing to increase in violence, and scarcely a ray of hope remaining, your Father was sent for by an express, informing him that his son’s recovery was entirely despaired of. In the meantime more malignant symptoms appeared attended with delirium, insensibility to external objects, loss of pulse, and general prostration, insomuch that his Mother, overwhelmed with distress, by my advice, was removed to another room that she might not witness the last struggles of her son.”

Hosack decided the best treatment was a hot bath, with Peruvian bark, and rum. The sickly boy would be placed inside and immersed. Though Hosack calls it "stimulant" treatment after he would continuously add some small quantities of spirits of hartshorne. This seemingly worked, as Philip would regain his senses and pulse, and take a few draughts of strong wine. And after about fifteen minutes, Philip would be returned to bed, wrapped in blankets and would soon fall asleep. Only for him to relapse into delirium and require another bath treatment. This cycle of repeated treatment continued until eventually Philip would regain strength and would recover.

“At this moment it occurred to me that a stimulant bath prepared with a strong decoction of Peruvian bark with the addition of some bottles of rum, and that made use of at a high temperature, might possibly prove beneficial at least in prolonging his existence. The bath was immediately prepared. He was carefully immersed in it, and occasionally it was rendered still more stimulant, by the frequent addition of small quantities of the spirits of hartshorne. After a few minutes he was aroused from his delirium, his senses for the time were restored, his pulse acquired strength, and he was enabled to swallow some draughts of strong wine whey, which I had directed to be prepared. After remaining in the bath about 15 minutes, he was removed to his bed, and covered with warm dry blankets. He immediately fell into a sleep by which he was sensibly improved, but in a few hours he relapsed into delirium, with a return of the former alarming symptoms. The warm bath was renewed and the same salutary effects were produced as before. The third application of the bath upon the recurrence of a similar train of symptoms in the course of the day, placed him in a relatively safe situation, from which he gradually acquired strength and ultimately recovered.”

Also in Hamilton's Cash Book, sometime in 1795–1804, under the date of the 8th of September, 1797, reads: “paid Doct Charleton 60”

Luckily, young Philip Hamilton recovered and returned to good health. It is really unfortunate he ended up actually dying four years after.

[ariaste]

Hi! I just finished reading "a choir of lies" for the second time and im discovering shrimp emotions not known to man, the book hits wayb too close to home and is cathartic in the best possible way, and its stylistically so well done! Your character voices are impeccable and it's a delight to experience how this recontextualizes the first book, and what the voice of that character hid from the story. Did you always know you wanted two unreliable narrators, or did you come up with the story first and the diary/footnote storytelling second? And I love what you did to the Heyrlandische setting, it feels incredibly strange to have your country turned inside out so accurately and I'm pestering my friends to read this as well because I Need to talk about the intentional and accidental references and Everything, like how shipwreck translates to "wrak" which rhymes with a dutch accented way of saying "fuck", was that intentional? How did you come up with the gender system? The words sound so accurate, did you base them on any existing words or did you just combine sounds very accurately?

so many great questions!! First of all thank you so much for all the compliments <3 Secondly, you might enjoy my Discord server if you want to hang out and talk to other fans of the book! Link here: https://discord.gg/ftYnk8T42K Putting the answers to the questions behind a cut:

Did you always know you wanted two unreliable narrators, or did you come up with the story first and the diary/footnote storytelling second?

As soon as I knew I wanted to write a book from Ylfing's POV, I started tinkering about how I wanted to approach the unreliability of first-person narration for him, and how it would be different than Chant's in A CONSPIRACY OF TRUTHS. I THINK the general idea for the story came first, but by the time I actually started writing it, I'd hashed out the diary/footnotes two unreliable narrators thing with a friend :)

like how shipwreck translates to "wrak" which rhymes with a dutch accented way of saying "fuck", was that intentional?

Hah! Nope, that was a lucky accident, I am literally just learning about this now. I... tend to have extraordinary luck for these kinds of things. ;)

How did you come up with the gender system?

I, a queer nonbinary person, was like "yo let's fuck some shit up, let's get WILD" and then I just went hogwild on it lol Okay but as a more serious answer -- the binary view of gender is a very Western sort of thing. There are cultures all over the world today that recognize the existence of more than two genders! So as a queer person, gender is just one of the things I like to think about with my worldbuilding, rather than blithely accepting the default, and I like to build cultures that have lots and lots of different ways of looking at the issue. All my fantasy novels are set in the same world; some of the cultures have a gender binary, some SUPER don't, some have a third gender but it is reserved for people in religious/spiritual roles.... In general, I just try to do worldbuilding in ways that are fun for me to think about, because that probably means other people will have fun with them too :)

The words sound so accurate, did you base them on any existing words or did you just combine sounds very accurately?

I did base a lot of the gender words and terms of address on existing ones! A couple of them, I combined sounds to make something that sounded like a Dutch-ish word -- I minored in linguistics, so I know a little bit about what I'm looking for in that regard. Afterwards, I had a Dutch-speaking acquaintance glance over them just to double-check that they sounded like words to their ear as well. I think they had tweaks on one of the words, but I don't remember which one at this point.

Hope that answered all your questions! :)))) Thanks so much, glad you liked the book!

[demi-shoggoth]

2021 Reading Log, pt. 9

41. Royal Witches by Gemma Hollman. Could use fewer royals and more witches. This is a biography of four noblewomen in English court politics in the 15th century, Joan of Navarre, Eleanor Cobham, Jacquetta of Luxembourg and her daughter, Elizabeth Woodville. All four of these women were accused of witchcraft as a political ploy by their enemies, although in the case of the last two it’s more of a footnote than a pivotal event in their lives. The goal of the book is to present a complex view of these women as people, not the saints or villains they’re often depicted as in propaganda. Although it is novel to see a woman dominated history of this period (Richard III is a side character!), and the book does a good job of using marginal data to create a full picture of these nobles as people, it falls short of what I was expecting. Based on the title, and the introduction, I was expecting a history of the perception of witchcraft in England in the late medieval period, before the Burning Times and the Malleus Maleficarum, using these nobles as focal points for attitudes and claims. I suspect the title was a marketing ploy, and it’s one that ended up disappointing me.

42. Unmentionable: The Victorian Lady’s Guide to Sex, Marriage and Manners by Therese Oneill. This is the first of the author’s cheeky surveys of bad Victorian advice, but I read them out of order (I found her book about Victorian childcare, Ungovernable, first). The book takes the format of a time traveler’s pointers to a 21st century woman who has been transported back, about how the fantasy of Victorian life portrayed in media was decidedly sexist, smelly and dangerous. The overall vibe is an etiquette guide written by a malicious genie. That’s fun, but the book really comes into its own as it brings in more of the Victorian era’s own words, as excerpts from mansplaining, moralizing or just plain bizarre books are brought out. They book is filled with many illustrations and photos from vintage sources, captioned in riffing fashion. It’s both very informative and very funny, which is a hard balance to capture sometimes.

43. The Chemistry of Alchemy by Cathy Cobb, Monty L. Fetterolf and Harold D. Goldwhite. I was expecting this book to be a history of how alchemy transmuted itself (hah) into chemistry over the centuries. I was not expecting this book to be filled with alchemical recipes and demonstrations. The authors are working chemists, and the book is filled with demos for how to make brass, perform redox reactions with metals, dissolve and purify salts, and other tricks of the alchemical trade. The demos focus mostly on the quest for gold and the philosopher’s stone, but some discussion of alchemical medicines and a little of alchemical philosophy comes through. These demos require a lot of high heat and commercially available acids—this isn’t kitchen chemistry, and I don’t know how many people reading the book are liable to try them. I know I’m not.

44. Lost Animals by John Whitfield.  Note that this is not the Errol Fuller book of the same name, which I highly recommend. This is a children’s book. It is not being sold as such, but the writing style is clearly at middle-grade level. It is a survey, seemingly at random, of extinct animals, with some discussion of endangered and rediscovered animals in the last 30 pages or so. The one word I would use to describe the book is “lazy”—the images are chosen from whatever was easy for them to get. This means there’s a handful of good paleoart, a lot of photographs of specimens in the Smithsonian collection (as this is a Smithsonian Books imprint) and a lot of terrible 3D models they could publish cheaply. Maybe the availability of images is responsible for what taxa were included. It’s not all bad—it’s nice to see a pop paleontology book that remembers that insects exist—but it’s not very good. I’m glad I was able to get a copy from the library; I would be very disappointed if I spent money on this.

45. The Hanging Tree by V.A.C. Gatrell. Yet again, the last book of a set is an enormous history, but this one read much faster than recent books on magic or the Bible. Gatrell’s topic is the “bloody laws” of the Hanoverian age, wherein in England there were dozens of hanging offenses, and hundreds of hangings, every year. The system failed, the book argued, because of the increasingly apparent absurdity and arbitrariness in which the codes were enforced—who was hanged, who was transported and who was pardoned was largely up to the whims of judges and the King’s council. The book is quietly radical in its insistence that state violence to enforce power is not a thing of the past, and that the modern (ish—the book is from 1994) prison system is as much an institution of violence as the old hanging codes. This is a must-read for people who are interested in British history, the history of crime and punishment and in how governments function. It is not a book for the squeamish or easily triggered—descriptions of crimes and punishments alike are in great detail.

[wegotcrowns]

13 Going on 31

The past few days have been filled with many emotions with the release of folklore’s sister album, evermore. I’ve been trying to find a moment of complete stillness to where I’ve leveled myself out enough in order to sit down and write this blog post in the manner that it deserves. With today being TS’s birthday, I couldn’t think of a more perfect time. 

I’m going to take it back to Thursday morning for a second but before I do, I just really need to get this out of my system... WHAT IN THE ACTUAL FUCK TAYLOR. Okay, now that that’s out of the way, we can go on with our regularly scheduled programming. Where were we? Oh yeah, Thursday morning. I started to get notifications on my phone that TS was posting on her instagram page, so naturally, I dropped everything I was doing and started stalking her page. She was doing one of those things where you upload pictures as puzzle pieces that eventually create one full image when looking at the page. My first thought was, oh shit, she’s about to announce some of the re-recordings or maybe all of them???? In any case, I could feel my heart rate starting to pick up because I knew something big was about to happen. 

Never in a million and one years did I ever think she was about to release her NINTH STUDIO ALBUM!! Ya’ll when I tell you that I felt my soul leave my body, do a few jumping jacks, and then come back into my body, I’m not exaggerating. I actually felt like I was in a state of shock, but then all of the normal release day feelings showed themselves: the shaking hands, the lump in my throat, the heart palpitations, etc, etc. 

I’ve spent the last few days bonding with evermore, just like I do with any other new TS album. If you’re close to me, you know that I compare this type of bonding with the same way a mother / father would bond with their newborn baby. The idea of you already being SO in love with this precious new thing solely based on the fact of its identity and where it came from, but you still haven’t gotten to know it yet -- and that’s what this time is always about for me. 

The biggest takeaway that I’ve personally gotten from evermore and folklore is that TS has finally found her place as an artist and you are either here for the ride or saying sayonara. Ya’ll know I am the fucking captain of this ride but that’s besides the point, I just needed to make that clear. She’s finally at a place where she feels confident in who she is and has zero apologies to give out to anyone, nor should she feel the need to. It made me think that TS really needed to go through the reputation era in order to become this artist that she is today -- this fearless (hah, full circle moment), unapologetic, and bold artist that we’ve witnessed come out so neatly in just these last six months. This notion is so evident in even just the first lyrics off of folklore where TS says “I’m doing good, I’m on some new shit // been saying yes instead of no”. She talked a little about this on long ponds and explained how in the past she would always try to fit a certain persona, a certain artist that everyone needed her to be. But these days, that taylor is long gone. She is finally who SHE wants to be and all of her actions from this day forward are because SHE wants to make it happen in that way, not anyone else. 

There certainly was no lack of this new bold artist in evermore, which was very  refreshing to witness. Part of this new persona that TS has adopted includes her making small references to certain things in her past and having no shame to sort of make fun, or comment on her growth as a human being. This idea was very evident in “long story short” where TS writes “And I fell from the pedestal, right down the rabbit hole, long story short, it was a bad time // Pushed from the precipice, clung to the nearest lips, long story short, it was the wrong guy”. There is something extremely powerful about TS pointing out these huge life-altering events that she had to go through in her past and then talking about it so confidently in these new songs. To hear her speak so nonchalantly  about them makes us, as fans, feel good about it as well. It’s like she’s sending out a message to her fans saying, “Hey, it’s okay. i’m good now and we can finally move past this dark era. Let’s grow together now.” I’m not trying to make this about me or any other fan out there but TS has said time and time again that if it weren’t for her fans, she would not continue making music. We are the fuel that allows her to continue doing what she’s doing every day (her words, not mine) and there’s something so powerful about that. The fact that she’s giving us this much credit will always be one of the biggest honors of my life. 

To dive into some specifics, the song “tolerate it” is by far one of the more powerful songs for me from this album, and maybe even ever. One of the things that makes TS such a spectacular artist and writer is her ability to paint such a vivid picture when describing a feeling. Yes, a feeling. Let’s take a look at some of these lyrics before I explain any further: 

I wait by the door like I’m just a kid // Use my best colors for your portrait // Lay the table with the fancy shit // And watch you tolerate it // If it’s all in my head tell me now // Tell me I’ve got it wrong somehow // I know my love should be celebrated // But you tolerate it

I mean HOLYYYYYYYY FUCKKKKKKKKKK. WHAT!?!?!?!?!?!?!? That is so insane! TS literally just described a very specific type of loneliness so perfectly and you don’t even know she’s doing it until after the fact! I immediately recognized what TS was doing with this song because she literally painted this feeling that I personally have experienced many times with a past relationship of mine. This desperate feeling of wanting to be seen, wanting to be loved in the way that you know you deserve, and the constant thoughts of you doubting yourself, wondering if you two are actually in love or if it’s just all in your head.

I made you my temple, my mural, my sky // Now I’m begging for footnotes in the story of your life 

I mean. come. on. I know this because I’ve experienced it but being trapped in another person’s unwillingness to let someone go due to fear of being alone, uncertainty, and just pure selfishness is the loneliest type of lonely there is and TS was able to describe that so beautifully in this song. I will forever treasure this. 

Another song that stood out to me was “no body, no crime” because those country vibes that were so very prominent here made me feel a bit nostalgic to some of TS’ debut songs. Now please don’t take this as me saying I MiSs tHe oLd TaYloR sWiFt but more of a, thank you taylor for being a complete and utter badass to not be afraid to dip yourself into your roots and give your fans a little taste of the medicine that was used to get them addicted to you in the first place. It was refreshing, and fun. 

The last song I’m going to point out is “ivy” only because there is just something extremely magical about TS saying “goddamn” over and over. 

I’m going to end this blog post the same way I do many others, and that is by thanking TS for this album that is nothing short of a masterpiece. I know I’ve mentioned this in a previous blog post before, but TS will always point her creativity into a direction that her fans need the most. For example, we all know TS is currently living her fairytale life with Joe but she decided to walk through the “folklorian woods” for months to get her mind into a place where she can write these epic, imaginary tales that she knows will resonate with a lot of her fans right now. Also in case you have heard the phrase “Taylor saved 2020″ floating around anywhere on social media, I am here to confirm that that is in fact correct. 

Happy 31st birthday Taylor. I will love you forever. 

[syncopatedid]

Kazetsuyo Novel: Excerpt from Chapter 8: Winter Arrives Again

Sharing a delightful excerpt from the Kazetsuyo novel because these pages sparked joy for me so I thought you should be reading it too, but aye, why no English version to share? What fun would it be to ああああ alone? It covers Episode #17′s timeline, but do bear in mind that it is still somewhat different from the anime canon, so it’ll be new information if that’s the only version you’re familiar with.

Disclaimer: This is a Mandarin to English translation and I do not have an original Japanese copy to compare and reference from, so nuances may vary between the two.

Without further ado! 

Chapter 8: Winter arrives again (page 228, 229)

(This scene takes place at the Lake Ashi/Ashinoko Lake area. The squad had run into Sakaki, who started insulting them while they just stood there and let him, etc. and then Sakaki left. Begin Kakeru’s inner monologue):

Why can’t I think of a single comeback? What’s the point of only being good at running? A cheetah or ostrich could run fast as well. How does that make me any different from an animal?

Kakeru was dejected at first, and then he was indignant - he was angry with himself for allowing Sakaki to just walk away after belittling them and saying whatever the damn hell he pleased.

“The guy’s earnest in a way…” Yuki admitted as he eyed Sakaki leaving.

“The fact that Kakeru didn’t charge at him to beat him up means he’s made progress. That’s good enough.” Kiyose’s usual poker-face remained as he spoke.

That’s true, thought Kakeru to himself.

In the past, if Sakaki had run his mouth off like that, I would never have let him off the hook so easily. This time, it was because I was thinking about how to refute him that I forgot about punching him.

“I should’ve just slugged him once.”

The more Kakeru mulled over it, the more it frustrated him. At the same time, he was also baffled by his own change.

To think that I would choose to resolve things without resorting to violence…

Kakeru was overwhelmed. On one hand, he felt like a tiger that has had its fangs pulled out. On the other, it felt like the distance between Rikudo U’s Team Captain Fujioka and himself had gotten a little closer. It was a liberating feeling.

“Don’t let it get to you.” Kiyose turned to everyone. “Come on, we’re almost at Lake Ashi. Let’s move.”

Standing tall before them was Mount Fuji, its peak covered in pure, white snow. With one breath, the members of Chikusei-so sprinted towards the final slope just in front of Ashinoko Lake.

“You said not to let it get to us, but it bothers me!” Jota muttered as he ran, with Joji next to him nodding aggressively.

Kakeru took that to heart. It was as if the chasm between the members of Chikusei-so had grown deeper because of Sakaki’s words.

After resting at Lake Ashi for a bit, they were ready to continue with the return route back down the mountain path.

Kiyose had just decided this on the spot, so even Kakeru was caught by surprise.

“We’re not going to spend the night here?”

“Like we have that kind of money?” Kiyose replied.

Prince couldn’t help but recoil in fear, so terrified that he was slowly backing away towards the bus-stop with the signage for Hakone-Yumoto*.

Kiyose noticed this and smiled.

“Relax, Prince, you don’t have to run down the mountain. It’s easy to get injured when navigating slopes, so only those who could potentially represent us for Section 6 need run. The rest of you can take the bus back to Hakone-Yumoto.”

Kiyose had singled out the twins and Yuki to run.

Yuki was incredulous.

“So it doesn’t matter if my leg were to get injured?! Is that what you’re saying?”

“You and the twins took the ropeway up here from Togendai to Owakudani*, didn’t you?  Did you think I didn’t see that? So you three should still have the energy to run.” answered Kiyose.

“Besides, you were trained in Kendo, so your centre of gravity and lower core are stable. That makes you very suited for running downward slopes.”

Yuki was silenced, but the twins continued to grumble among themselves.

“We’re dead tired as it is, and he still wants us to run?”

“Do we even need to train so hard?”

“You two. If you have something to say, just spit it out.” 

The twins shook their heads in unison.

Finally, Kiyose decided he would run together with Yuki and the twins. But Kiyose’s right leg was injured, and that worried Kakeru.

“Haiji, I’ll run with them instead. It’s better that you don’t force yourself.”

“I’ll run slowly so it won’t be a problem. The bus is here, go on.”

At Kiyose’s insistence, Kakeru and the rest boarded the bus.

In the end, the bus was stuck in a massive jam, and Yuki and the twins who were running down the mountain road soon caught up to the vehicle. Kiyose, who had assured that he would take it slow, came dashing down the slope following closely behind the three, nagging and going through all the things they needed to take note of when they’re running.

Kakeru and the others looked out of the bus.

Comparing the bus’ speed with the speed of Yuki and gang, one could say they’re almost neck and neck.

“Maybe we should get off and run. Who knows, we might actually be faster.” Nico-chan muttered, irritated by how slow the bus was moving.

“I’m not budging, you hear.” Prince declared, having secured himself a seat on the bus.

=============

Footnotes:

1. In the anime, the impression I got was that the squad rode around in Haiji’s van all the way from Section 1 to the half point at Lake Ashi and back. But in the novel, it’s pretty obvious the squad didn’t take the van all the way! From what I had gathered, the van was parked at the base of Hakone-Yumoto station while they covered the rest of the mountain course on foot (Aka Hakone-Yumoto stn -> Lake Ashi -> Hakone-Yumoto Stn).

*Togedai and Owakudani are stops along the Hakone Circle Route, which is a popular course for visitors and where ropeway cable car rides are available (so yeah, Yuki and the twins took a shortcut and totally got called out by Haiji).

2. The growing resentment the twins have towards Haiji is still unresolved at this point in the novel, and the part where they were told to cancel their soccer date only happened after this scene, but for the life of me I am still unable to trace the part where the twins had bailed on them, and Kakeru had to chase them down and tackle them to the ground, which was why I was even reading this chapter in the first place, hah. If this is an original scene added by Production IG I just wanna give all my kudos and cookies to the team, bless.

#Kaze Novel Translations

[terriblelifechoices]

peter & ollie is an amazing combo i can get behind 'til the end of time i think

Me too, anon.  They’re a lot of fun to write.

Here’s a little bit more, just for you. =)

Ilvermorny Massachusetts, December 1943

Olwen hated Arithmancy.  Arithmancy clearly hated her back, if her less than stellar grades were any indicator.  She understood the theory just fine.  It was the numbers themselves that were the problem.  They got all jumbled in her head; it was like they moved, and they were never in the right place when she tried to do her homework.

Introduction to Numerology was no help.  She could usually make heads or tails of it if she read every line half a dozen times over, but it would take forever.  Fortunately, Olwen had other resources.

She pulled Peter’s notes out of her pack, laying them out alongside the confusing bits of Introduction to Numerology and the crossed out and slightly crumpled mess that was her homework.  Peter’s notes were better than a textbook.  They were clear and concise and they made sense – even the bits with the footnotes, where Peter had obviously gotten distracted on some research tangent, because he wouldn’t be Peter if he wasn’t distracted by some research tangent.  Better still, the numbers stayed exactly where they were supposed to, which Olwen was convinced was a minor miracle.

She was almost finished with her homework when Peter landed with a thump in the chair next to hers.

“Damn it, Ollie, stop stealing my notes.”

Olwen batted his hand away before he could steal them back.  “I’m not done with my homework yet.”

“Me neither,” said Peter, sounding grumpy about it.  “Because someone stole my notes.”

“You don’t need them,” Olwen pointed out.

“Need has nothing to do with it.  They’re my notes.”

“I know,” Olwen said.  “Your notes make sense.”

Peter looked at her notes.  “Paracelsus preserve us,” he murmured.  “Ollie.”

“I know,” Olwen said, exasperated.  “That’s why I stole yours!”  She had no problems taking good notes for any of her other classes.  Dad had drilled the importance of keeping good records into all of them, because you never knew when it would mean the difference between solving a case or letting a suspect walk free.  Arithmancy was the only subject where her note taking went a bit …  sideways.

She had to admit, her notes looked even more disastrous placed side by side with Peter’s.  Hers might as well have been written in Sanskrit.  Sanskrit might have made more sense, honestly.

Peter covered his face with one hand.  “Ollie…”

“I’m almost done,” Olwen promised.  “You can have your notes back after that.”

Peter sighed.  “I’d tell you to keep them, but it would only encourage you to keep stealing them in the future.”

“True,” agreed Olwen.  “But only because I probably won’t pass Arithmancy without them.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Worse,” she admitted.  It was embarrassing.  Galahad hadn’t had any trouble with Arithmancy.  Neither did Sammy or Peter.  And the worst part was, she was trying.  She worked harder at Arithmancy than any of her other classes, and nothing she did made the slightest bit of difference.

Peter gave her shoulder what was probably meant to be a comforting pat.  His hand landed directly on the bruise she’d gotten teaching Quincy Adams better manners earlier that morning, and Olwen couldn’t stifle the sharp breath she took in response.

Peter drew his hand away.

“Ollie?”

“It’s nothing,” she said.

“That didn’t sound like nothing,” Peter pointed out.  He drew his wand.  “Diagnoskein.”

“Peter!” Olwen protested, because casting spells on someone without their permission was rude.

“Who hurt you?” Peter demanded, hazel eyes going bright with rage.

Olwen bared her teeth.  “I said it’s nothing.”

“There are handprints underneath your shirt.  That’s not nothing.”

“What’s under my shirt is none of your business, Peter Collins.”

“Damn it, Ollie –”

“Don’t,” she snapped.  “Don’t you dare try and treat me like I’m a delicate fucking flower just because I’ve got breasts now.”  Honesty compelled her to add, “sort of,” since – as Adams had pointed out just before she’d punched him – hers barely qualified for the term.  The fact that they still managed to make people stupid just added insult to injury.  It was like growing breasts made everyone forget that there was a person attached to them.

“When have I ever treated you like you’re a delicate fucking flower?” Peter demanded.  “You’re tougher than I am!  And you’re better with a wand.”

“Faster, maybe,” Olwen said, grudgingly mollified by the reminder.  Peter never treated her like a delicate fucking flower just because she was a girl.  It was probably a little unfair of her to accuse him of doing so.  “Your wandwork is better.”

Peter ignored that.  “I don’t care that you got hurt because you’re a girl and I think you’re helpless.  That’s sexist and dumb.  I care that you got hurt because you’re my friend.”  He lifted one shoulder in a defiant half-shrug.  “I don’t have many of those, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

Olwen had.  Galahad and Sammy both worried about it, because that was what older siblings did.  Olwen had told them not to bother, but neither of them had listened.

It wasn’t that people didn’t like Peter, or even that he was particularly unfriendly.  Peter was easy-going and kind; it was impossible not to like him.

It was just that Peter seemed to think that other people were a lot of work, and he preferred not to have to deal with them unless he had to.  Olwen suspected that the only reason Peter didn’t think that she was too much work was that they’d been friends literally from the time they were in the cradle.

“Adams needed to learn some manners,” she said, by way of explanation.

“Of course he did,” Peter said.  Peter liked Quincy Adams about as much as Olwen did – which was to say: not at all.  “I hope you kicked his ass.”

“Just enough to get my point across,” Olwen promised.  Anything else would make her as much of a bully as Adams was.

“Alright then,” said Peter.

Olwen finished the last of her Arithmancy homework in the comfortable silence that followed.  She slid Peter’s notes back to him.  He looked briefly puzzled, as if he’d forgotten why he’d come to find her in the first place.

“Oh, right,” he said.  “You know, you could just ask me for help, instead of just stealing my notes.”

Olwen tucked her homework into Introduction to Numerology, where it would be safe until class tomorrow.  “I didn’t want to bother you.  Plus, it’s good practice.”

“For what?  Your budding career as a pickpocket?”

“Hah!” said Olwen.  “Not for me.  For you.  You need to be more aware of your surroundings.”

“Ugh. You sound just like Uncle Percival,” Peter complained.

“Well, you do.”  Peter was too easy to sneak up on.  The little ones knew better than to make mischief, for fear of Olwen’s wrath – or worse, Sammy’s disappointed face – but the rest of Ilvermorny wasn’t as well-behaved as her younger siblings.

“I’ll tell you what,” Peter said.  “I’ll help you with Arithmancy if you stop stealing my notes.  And if you stop getting into so many fights.”

“Wampus,” Olwen reminded him.  Fighting was what they did.  And, anyway, it wasn’t her fault other people were stupid, ill-mannered assholes who couldn’t keep their hands to themselves.

“If you try to not get into so many fights” Peter amended.

“I’ll practice dueling with you, too,” Olwen offered.

“You are literally the only person in the world who thinks that’s an incentive,” Peter said.  “It doesn’t matter how much I practice.  I’ll never be as fast as you.”

“Maybe not, but you’ll be faster than everyone else.”

Peter considered that.  “Deal,” he said, and offered her his hand.

“Deal,” Olwen said.

[mirroredtranslations]

Tsubasa Sleeping - Chapter 6

Wazamonogatari – Nisioisin p. 227-233

[Previous Chapter]

In fact, I made quite a big gamble on the amount of information I could obtain from Dramaturgie-san about Oshino-san, and on how reliable that information was in the first place—but now that I think about it, Dramaturgie-san may have made a similar gamble on me.

I might be a young traveler, but even though I was perfect to be used as bait—not false bait, actual bait—if there were any other options, I'm sure a professional specialist like him wouldn't want an amateur girl he'd just met participating in his work.

It wasn't a question of ethics or morals, but an excess of uncertain elements; unlikely as it might be, he couldn't even be assured I wasn't on the vampire twins', High-Waist and Low-Rise's side myself.

Whether or not I could be trusted, whether or not I could be relied upon.

It was more dubious than a ghost story.

But he must have accepted my request to collaborate and the transaction I proposed because he didn't see another way forward.

Using me to locate their hideout and settle the case before more damage is done—to borrow his words, “for the twins' sake”—may not have been the optimal plan, but it certainly wasn't a bad one; I had some oddity-related acumen, after all.

Ougi-chan might look at our intentions and appraise us both as fools, with that thin smile, that dark smile of hers—

(—looking back now, regrettably, we'd probably deserve it. Both me and Dramaturgie-san ended up imprisoned in that old castle.)

(Setting aside how that happened, weren't High-Waist and Low-Rise under constant surveillance? Yet you couldn't locate their hideout without using a decoy operation? Kinda idiotic, isn't it?)

(I also doubted that point a bit; but when I actually got kidnapped, I understood. It's because the hideout itself was an oddity of some kind. That is, the old castle that was High-Waist and Low-Rise's hideout... it was what they call a citadel, but in a town that didn't exist.)

(A town that didn't exist... the scope of this story's gotten bigger. I see, I see. That's why they couldn't find the missing tourists no matter where they looked.)

(And why they couldn't find the hideout. The style is different, but was it what you call a “barrier”?)

(If they controlled an entire citadel, then they must've been pretty important vampires. They're bound by silly names like 'High-Waist' and 'Low-Rise', but I certainly understand why dealing with them was delayed—it was really for the sake of conservation.)

(Like how they wanted to conserve Shinobu-chan?)

(Hah hah. Shinobu-chan in her prime could've controlled an entire country, not just a city. So, the vampire twins' hideout would only materialize when they brought kidnapped humans inside? Understood. That'd stymie a specialist like Dramaturgie. Unless he used a decoy or bait, that is.)

(Would you use a different method, Oshino-san?)

(I'm fundamentally a negotiator, so my job would be to go between Dramaturgie and the vampire twins—my job would be to butt in. I'd be in the same position as you, Miss Class Rep. Although, I'm not so heroic as to volunteer myself as a decoy.)

(...I'm heroic?)

(Anyone can see that. But compared to spring break, you're still somewhat self-sacrificial, but not so single-mindedly devoted. You make a good impression. You just have an ulterior motive to obtain something you earnestly desire.)

Quite right.

Even if it were a big gamble, I'd embarked upon it precisely because I detected a chance of success—it certainly wasn't a barbarous act done in ignorance of cost-effectiveness.

Thinking of the dangerous situation Araragi-kun was currently in, what I was doing was completely within the bounds of safety.

(I don't think that's at all the case... But, we all place weight on things differently.)

(Indeed. Dramaturgie-san as well, I'm sure.)

However, I can't report that Dramaturgie-san and I won that gamble—we both wound up in a dungeon, what more can I say.

Can't say anything but 'I told you so'.

This is why gambling destroys your life.

It might not have been wise to make poor calculations and act according to probability—I can't say entirely for certain, but if we were gambling, it may have been easier to achieve victory with a desperate suicide attack like Araragi-kun might do.

Though, of course, this was a decoy operation planned strategically by Dramaturgie-san, who was not a professional gambler.

For the sake of his honor as a specialist, let me just say that it didn't go entirely wrong—until halfway, the plan was being carried out perfectly.

(Until halfway, huh. Wouldn't that mean, in other words, that it was half-baked?)

(That's harsh, Oshino-san...)

But there's an element of truth in that.

If the plan had failed completely, at least Dramaturgie-san and I wouldn't have been confined to a dungeon with no hope of escape—oddly enough, if it were the case that our strategy completely failed, we would likely have had an easier time reorganizing ourselves afterward.

It's like how they say a home partially destroyed by fire is nastier than one completely destroyed by fire—well, that theory does have a certain persuasiveness for someone whose house once burned down like me.

To explain from the beginning, the part of the plan in which I played a decoy went splendidly—a happy result, to use an odd expression(1). As a young traveler and a Japanese tourist, I successfully got kidnapped.

As I was walking carelessly down a remote road in the pitch black night, I encountered them—High-Waist and Low-Rise.

The two vampires.

I encountered the vampire twins.

(Hah hah. Araragi-kun would've said “walking carelessly and carefree,” wouldn't he?)(2)

(I was not walking carefree. I was quite nervous—skipping along would be out of the question. I was practically walking on tiptoe.)

And I surely am not Araragi-kun.

I didn't technically “encounter” them—I was caught in a pincer attack from the front and back.

I suddenly felt a presence behind me, and turning around, I found a golden-haired girl clothed in a dress so pitch black it dissolved into the night.

That golden hair immediately reminded me of Shinobu-chan, but I might not have needed to see her golden hair to tell she was an extraordinary presence.

The color of her eyes was red.

I suppose I could compare them to being bloodshot.

(Araragi-kun would've said “like Chiba prefecture,” don't you think?)(3)

(Even Araragi-kun wouldn't say that. Chiba doesn't have a “red” image, does it?)

(But that's because he'd call it the Bousou Peninsula, right?)(4)

(If you're going to keep making fun, I'll stop talking. This is a serious scene.)

Returning to the story.

Reflexively, I took evasive action.

Gazed at by those red eyes and utterly quavering in fear at the faint smile on her face, I instinctively prepared to run away—I nearly abandoned my role of getting kidnapped by the vampires.

I'm a complete amateur.

All I'd accumulated was information, and I wasn't suited for praxis at all—Ougi-chan would scoff at me.

I certainly won't say I got lucky, but as soon as I turned around instinctively to start running, my feet suddenly stopped.

It was a pincer attack.

In front of me, where a short while ago there had definitely been nobody there, a blonde, red-eyed non-existence had come into being—standing in my way.

Like a wall.

Blocking my way.

In counterpoint to the vampire in the pitch-black dress behind me, the vampire in front of me was wearing a pure white tuxedo.

With a smart bow tie.

Smiling thinly, gazing at me with eyes that really did look bloodshot.

A smile thin as a knife.

(I see. The twins were a man and a woman? All the more unusual.)

(Well, thinking about it now, I honestly can't assert whether they were men or women... I'll call them “she” and “he” for convenience, but I couldn't really judge their sexes. They were both so very beautiful—as if they'd transcended sex itself.)

(Hmph. That's not all that unusual for oddities. All you need to do is observe their division of roles.)

(Division of roles?)

(Assigning themselves to be male or female... Even in a community of two, you can see there's a certain social sense about it. Very interesting.)

(Social sense... Perhaps. If so, it's a completely different mode of being from Shinobu-chan.)

They looked like teenage girls and boys not so different from me in age, but a vampire's appearance holds little meaning.

The important part is how they are on the inside.

The difficulty lies in how they are on the inside.

Even if they're not five hundred or six hundred years old like Shinobu-chan, I'm sure they've lived much longer than their looks would lead you to imagine.

Afterward, I truly realized that.

Following what Dramaturgie-san told me, the girl in the dissolving dress was High-Waist, and the boy in the bright white tuxedo was Low-Rise; but that distinction didn't seem to be very consequential.

They had successfully taken positions point-reflected from each other with me as the center—I could only see the two of them as forming a single body.

Surrounded by four red eyes.

Trapped by four red eyes.

Caught in the glare of twin vampires from the front and behind.

As if I was rooted to the spot, I couldn't move an inch—I couldn't even tremble in fear.

Although, I'm uncertain exactly how accurate it is to describe the twins as staring or glaring at me.

It seemed like their gaze was actually passing right through me, and they could only see each other.

Only Low-Rise for High-Waist.

Only High-Waist for Low-Rise.

I don't think they could see me—despite being in their line of sight, it felt like I was being completely ignored.

Well, you might say being ignored in that situation would be the best I could hope for, but of course, it didn't last—after that, I got carried off.

All according to plan.(5)

But that's as far as it went according to plan.

[Next Chapter]

Footnotes: (1) The expression used for “happy result” here is 上首尾 (joushubi), which literally means something like “upper, between neck and tail”. (2) Careless (lit. un-vigilant) (無警戒) is pronounced mukeikai, and carefree (lit. jaunty/casual) (軽快) is pronounced keikai. (3) Referring to Chiba prefecture in Kanto. “Bloodshot” is 血走っている, pronounced chibashitteiru. (4) A peninsula that makes up much of Chiba. (5) “Plan” means 計�� (keikaku).