#i just think this is so important and its solid evidence that we often look past | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mrsalwayswrite · 3 years

Text

Sinners and Saints (Sihtric x reader)

Summary: One day you stumble upon your childhood friend, Osferth, whom you have not seen in years. Yet the more time you spend with him, the more you find yourself drawn to his companion, Sihtric….and the butterflies his dark eyes give you.

This is my contribution to @emilyhufflepufftlk 100 followers challenge! Congratulations again! I’m so happy for you!

My prompt was - "Love doesn't discriminate, between the sinners and the saints." - Lin-Manuel Miranda, Hamilton (in bold within the story)

Words: 5500

Warnings: A couple of swear words, fluff, my poor attempts at humor, Osferth being a good bro.

Tag List: @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @flowers-in-your-hayr

This gorgeous moodboard was made by @flowers-in-your-hayr. All credit goes to her!

"...so there she was, aye, and next thing I know, she flips 'er dress up and I see the most perfect set of…."

"I'm going to be sick." Osferth mumbled to himself, trying to block out Finan's retelling of his prior night. To the laughter of his companions, he started to push away from the outdoor table at the alehouse. He was no virgin anymore, Finan and Uhtred had seen to that, but he still felt squeamish when listening to their stories of recent conquests. His mother's voice whispered in the back of his mind, things she had told him before her passing, about respect and love. Plus, he could not help but think that this idea of conquests, of women's worth derived from what pleasure a man could take from their bodies, was what brought bastards into this world….like him.

"Alright, Finan, we get it. You saw the arse of a goat and couldn't help yourself." Uhtred teased, slinging an arm around Osferth so he could not escape them- most likely to find a church and pray for their souls.

"Oi, lord! Ya know that was one time!" Finan feigned mock-outrage, making Uhtred and Sihtric laugh.

Osferth put a hand over his eyes as if that would somehow block the image from his mind. Something he desperately did not want there.

"How much longer are we here, lord?" Sihtric asked, changing the subject, while twirling a dagger between his hands fluidly.

Although Osferth would never admit it aloud, and God forgive him, it was hard not to be jealous of how easily his companions handled their weapons like they had been born with weapons in hand. They continued to tell him it was practice. Recently though, he decided it was a gift that he clearly did not have.

"Until I feel satisfied with the training of Lord Godwin's fyrd and his defenses." Uhtred stated indifferently, as if it was something he had to repeat to himself often.

"Ya think King Alfred knew how much of a horse's arse Lord Godwin is?"

Uhtred glanced up, a tiny smirk on his lips. "Probably."

"But he knew you were the man for the job." Osferth commented. Not necessarily to defend his father but to hopefully bolster Uhtred's confidence. "The men respect you, even if their lord fails to acknowledge his own respect."

"The baby monk is right." Finan said. "What else needs to be done for the town?"

Uhtred and Finan began discussing ideas and strategies, Sihtric adding an occasional comment but mostly just listening.

Osferth found his attention wandering, since this was an area outside of his expertise. His gaze drifted to the town and its residents who moved about to complete their duties under the midday sun. Their group had only been in this large town for two days and already Osferth was keen to return to Coccham.

From amidst the crowd, a familiar face caught his attention. The world tilted off its axis as his entire body went rigid, all his focus zeroed in on her. His heart hammered in his chest and the air whooshed from his lungs painfully.

"Y/n?" He muttered to himself, disbelief and shock clearly painted in his tone and on his face.

"Baby monk, ya alright?"

Finan's words did even register, so consumed by the ghost before him. Rapidly, he slid off the bench, almost losing his footing when he went to stand, but pressed on, hurrying towards her.

"Y/n!" He called, an almost desperate tone in his yell.

When she did not turn around, he shouted louder. "Y/N!"

That time she paused, then slowly turned to find him standing still amongst those walking around him, a solid rock in a stream of people. He held his breath as he intently watched her expression, suddenly worried seeing him would not be as meaningful as he hoped. He could see her utter his name silently, eyes wide. Then in the next moment, she dropped the basket on her hip and ran towards him. He opened his arms just in time for her to collide with him, and with her embrace, a painful wave of nostalgia and guilt crashed over him with the strength of a tempest.

"It's really you." She finally whispered, peering at him in awe.

"Hi." He smiled, his own shock clouding his mind from forming coherent sentences.

Then to his surprise, she reared back and punched him in the arm.

"Ouch! What was that for?" He whined, rubbing the offended limb.

Throwing her hands in the air, they landed on her hips as her voice rose in anger. "For disappearing in the middle of the night without telling me!"

"I did tell you."

"That you were THINKING about leaving, not that you WERE leaving!" She reared back and punched him in the arm again, ignoring his pained cry as she continued to berate him. "I spent an entire day running around the monastery trying to find you only for Father Harold to finally pull me aside and tell me you left for Wincheaster."

And there was the heaping of guilt he knew he deserved. "I'm sorry….I just….I just knew if I didn't leave that night, then I never would."

Her face softened at his quiet admission, understanding passing in her eyes. "I know. I wasn't truly surprised…. Just wish you'd have told me before."

"I'm sorry."

She sighed, all anger and frustration disappearing, much to his relief. She was a force to be reckoned with when truly in her fury. "So, what are you doing here?"

"Ah, traveled here with the Lord Uhtred to assist Lord Godwin in his defenses….or something."

"Uhtred? That Uhtred?"

He smiled at her, catching the reverence in her tone. "That very one."

"How did you find him? How did you join him? Wait! Are you a warrior now? We have a lot to talk about and you better get started." There went the hands on her hips again, making his smile widen at the image. Even as a young girl, when her hands were on her hips, you knew she meant business.

"Would you like to meet him first?"

A shy look passed over her face that he was unused to seeing. "I'm…. I'm not presentable to meet a lord."

He scanned her, noting the dried mud on the hem of her dress and shoes, the small smear of what looked like flour on her left temple. What he noticed most was how the years had made her even more beautiful. She had always been a pretty girl but now, she truly looked like a beautiful woman. A fact he was unsure of how to feel about.

He chuckled lightly after a moment. "Well, you certainly smell better than Lord Uhtred so I think it's fine."

That caused her to tip her head back and laugh loudly, the desired effect of his comment. She gathered up her basket and walked next to Osferth, back to the table where his companions were. It was impossible to ignore their curious stares as they approached.

"Lord Uhtred, may I introduce y/n. Y/n, this is Lord Uhtred of Bebbanburg." Osferth said, standing next to her at the end of the table.

Uhtred nodded graciously, clearly wondering why this woman mattered and why Osferth was introducing her.

"Oh, it's an honor to meet you!" Y/n gushed, a bright smile on her face. "Uncle Leofric told us so much about you, but I never thought I'd ever meet you in person."

"Leofric?" That caught his lord's attention, his gaze narrowing and eyeing her with renewed interest. "How did you know that turd?"

"When he came to visit Osferth, he'd tell us stories."

"Ah….all exaggerated, of course." Uhtred said with a cocky smirk.

"Wait. I think we're missin' the most important thing here." Finan leaned forward, dark eyes bouncing between Osferth and her, as he pointed a finger at them, hand still wrapped around his cup. "Ya said 'Uncle Leofric'....are ya related to Osferth?"

Osferth answered quickly. "No, her family owned the farm next to the monastery, so we grew up together." Then he furrowed his brows as a thought hit him. He had been so amazed to see his childhood best friend (only friend really) that he had not realized that she should be back at the farm and not in this town. "Wait, y/n, why are you here and not at the farm?"

Her face crumpled for a brief second before she was able to mask it into a neutral expression. She shrugged casually, but he could read the subtle tension in the action. "We lost the farm, so mother and I came here to look for work."

"Ah." There were so many things he wanted to ask but could tell now was not the right time. If she lived here, he would have plenty of time to hear the full story later. Instead he decided to change the subject. "So, you know Lord Uhtred, the others are Finan and Sihtric…. And Sihtric is also a bastard." He added as an afterthought.

That made her face light up as she turned to look at the Dane. "Hey, another bastard! We really need to start a club. We can all rant about how awful our fathers are."

"You're a bastard?" Uhtred asked, shock evident in his voice.

"Yes, my lord. My mother was a servant for a lord. Got pregnant. The lord's wife did not like that so sent my pregnant mother back to her family. Certainly, it was our Lord's Will because how else would I have been able to grow up with Osferth?" She asked, patting him on the cheek affectionately. He blushed and swatted her hand away, much to the other's amusement.

"I reckon you have quite a few amusin' stories of growin' up with Osferth, eh?" Finan smirked.

"I might….but I don't share secrets for free." She matched his smirk with her own crooked smile.

He slapped his hand on the table. "I'll owe ya a drink! I need to 'ear this."

"No….oh no, no, no." Osferth said but knew it was a lost cause before he even tried to deter them. The rest were already deciding when and where to meet that night. "Lord help me."

"It's not that bad." She teased, bumping his arm with hers. "The worst one is when we went streaking naked through the monastery."

Osferth felt his face heat up like the flames of hell itself as everyone laughed. "It was your idea."

"Yeah, yeah, so you like to remind me." She smiled fondly. "Now, if I don't get back home, my mother is going to think I've run off with some man or I've been kidnapped. Either way, she will raise the fyrd herself to find me. I will see you all tonight."

The others said their goodbyes but before she could step too far away, Osferth gently touched her arm, halting her movement.

"Y/n….I'm….I'm glad our paths have crossed once again."

She pulled him into a tight embrace. "I am too, Osferth. I've missed you." With that, she turned and walked away with her basket still on her hip; but not without glancing over her shoulder at the group before disappearing around some buildings.

Once out of sight, Osferth sighed and turned back to his companions, only to see them all still staring intently in the direction she disappeared.

"No….y/n is off-limits to you fornicators." He stated firmly, well as firmly as he could be.

"She's very pretty…." Uhtred declared, a playful grin on his face.

"Lord, no. All of you, keep your hands off of her."

"Or what?" Finan chuckled, eyes alight with mischief. "You'll fight us, baby monk?"

"I will if I must."

"Alright. Her dignity won't be tarnished." Uhtred lifted his cup in Osferth's direction. "Your reputation might be tonight depending on what stories she shares."

Osferth groaned, sitting back down next to his lord. "I'm going to need a lot of ale."

"That can certainly be arranged!" Finan laughed, jovial once more.

As discussion started back up again, they all missed the silent, longing glance Sihtric snuck one last time in the direction she walked away….

*****

Over the next several weeks Lord Uhtred helped increase the defenses of the town and instructed the guards and fyrd how to better defend against the Danes.

During those weeks, you found yourself frequently spending time with Osferth and his companions. First it started off with meeting them in the evenings for ale, laughter and good company. Within days, it became almost expected for one of them to purposefully seek you out. Most of the time it was Osferth and Sihtric coming to join you in whatever your tasks for the day because they were bored or unwanted in meetings. It was not difficult to tell that although they were certainly welcomed members of Uhtred's group, not everyone else saw them in such a positive light.

So the three of you often passed the hours away together, waiting until evening to rejoin Uhtred and Finan at the alehouse. Their presence became such a regular occurrence that your mother practically adopted them, they even had their assigned seats at your small kitchen table for meals. Somehow, they seamlessly slipped into your daily life in a way that seemed like they were meant to be there this whole time.

Even at the alehouse in the evenings, you usually found yourself nestled between Osferth and Sihtric on the bench. A place you certainly found yourself enjoying more and more….especially next to the Dane.

Over the weeks, there was something growing between you and the Dane. It gradually revealed itself with each passing day, growing like the roots of an oak tree. It was through the borderline flirtatious comments that you teased each other with. It was in the subtle touches that caused butterflies in your stomach to dance, from your fingers barely gracing each other when passing something, to the way you leaned your head on his shoulder when your eyelids threatened to close, to the way your thighs would touch under the table and away from view of the others. It was in the lingering looks when your gazes locked and you swore you never wanted to look away. It was in the consistency of being next to one another whenever you could, either sitting at a table or just walking down the street, almost like your bodies were magnetized to one another's.

Plus the more you talked to Sihtric, the more you desired to know about him. For he was like no other man you had ever met.

Almost a fortnight after you reunited with Osferth, there was one particular evening after staying out far too late with the four men and drinking a bit too much, Sihtric graciously offered to walk you back home. You knew propriety demanded Osferth should be the one to escort you but he was already passed out, head on the table and snores emitting from his mouth. Giggling at your childhood friend, you accepted Sihtric's offer and the two of you easily fell into step.

On the walk you learned more about his past, about going up in Dunholm and his cruel father. You had heard bits and pieces while with Osferth and the others. Maybe it was under the cover of darkness, maybe it was the extra ale flowing through both of your blood, but he confessed secrets to you he had never told another besides his mother. When you reached your home, before he could slip away, you clutched his arm and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. After, you bid him goodnight and slipped inside your humble home.

After that night, he always walked you home, sometimes alone and sometimes one of the others would join. But when it was just you two, when you were alone, you would bid him a goodnight with a kiss on the cheek or he would kiss your hand, locking eyes with you in a way that made a fire stir in your belly and your core clench.

There was definitely something between the two of you, but neither seemed able to verbalize it or take the next step.

*****

"So, what is going on between you and Cedric?"

You turned your head to look at Osferth, who laid on the grass next to you, soaking in the heat of the early afternoon sun. "What?"

"You know….that blacksmith. The one you were talking to the other day."

"Oh." The memory hit you. You had stopped by to drop off your mother's damaged cooking pot for Cedric to attempt in fixing, although you personally thought it was a helpless cause. The dent in it was significant, but he offered to see what he could do. As you dropped it off at his workshop, the two of you began discussing an approaching saint's day and the celebration that would occur with it.

Several minutes later, you heard your name called and looked over to see Osferth and Sihtric walking towards you. You bid Cedric a farewell, promising to stop by the next day to come pick up the pot. After receiving his promise to try his best at fixing it, you headed off towards the stables with your fellow bastards. At the time, you had not thought the encounter significant but with it happening two days ago and Osferth now bringing it up, you wondered how long he had been ruminating on it.

Finally, you simply said, "he's a good man, and has been kind to my mother and I since we arrived here."

"Is he….pursuing you?" Osferth turned his head to scrutinize you, his lips pursed slightly as if concerned about your answer.

You openly laughed at the notion. "No, that's silly. He is just a kind man."

If anything, you had to fend off flirtatious advancements from some of the young men that worked under Cedric. Those same young men quickly learned to keep their eyes on their work and mouths shut. When one openly called out to you, and before you could offer a sharp retort, Cedric threw a hammer at him from across the shop. He bellowed that he did not allow heathens to work for him and if they chose to act godless then they needed to find a new place of work. Their blatant interest diminished after that and Cedric made a point to be the only one that conversed with you if you came to the shop. Although he was easily ten years your senior, you found him a likeable man with a quick wit and sarcastic comments that occasionally left you in stitches.

The idea of him pursuing you was an amusing idea. He was still a bachelor, never having married, claiming that his work and apprentices kept him far too busy for much else.

Your answer appeared to satisfy Osferth. A thoughtful look crossed his face and he opened his mouth as if to speak, but immediately slowly closed it and turned his head back to stare at the blue sky.

A stillness settled after your answer, only interrupted by the frequent bird song and the wind through the tall grass. You closed your eyes, enjoying the sun's warmth and just lying around relaxing on the hill outside of the town, away from the hustle and bustle and chores that demanded your attention.

"He was watching you like a man who wants a woman." Sihtric stated after a couple minutes of peaceful silence.

Startled by his sour tone, you shifted up to look over at the Dane. He sat on the other side of Osferth, one leg propped up and an arm casually slung over it, but his gaze was focused straight ahead, staring off into the distance. Now that you thought about it, over the past two days Sihtric had become more reserved and sullen than you had ever seen. Even his companions commented on it a few times to which he would shrug his shoulders or make an excuse and walk away. You had thought he just missed Coccham, the group having been away for so long, or something happened that made him introspective. It had also not escaped your notice how the prior closeness between you two had halted. Now you wondered if there was something more to his demeanor.

"Well, that is most unfortunate for him since I am not interested in him."

"Does your mother not want you to marry?" Osferth asked, his voice deceptively neutral.

Sighing, you leaned back on your hands. Eventually you knew Osferth would bring up the topic, he was your friend after all and you were certainly of marriageable age. Actually far too old to not be married by some people's standards, but you ignored them. "She does but she has told me that she will not force it upon me. She said I should make my own choice….that if I am able, I should choose love."

You knew your mother offered you that choice in hopes your life would turn out differently than her own.

"But if Cedric is a good, kind man….could you not love him….or someone like him?" Osferth pressed.

"Perhaps. There are plenty of men I have seen who the church would call a 'good' man but are cruel in their own home, and there are many men who are calloused but it's obvious they love their wife and children. My love doesn't discriminate, between the sinners and the saints. I would rather choose a man whom I know loves and cares for me than a man I know is 'good' but carries no love in his heart." You paused, the candid confession rolling off your tongue before you realized it. Sighing, you ran a hand over your hair before quietly saying. "I just….I just want someone that loves me….sinner or saint."

Not a word was spoken as all three contemplated your statement, the silence hanging heavy like a brewing storm. Tilting your face to the sky, unable to meet the gazes of your companions, you chastised yourself for the candor with which you spoke. Osferth had asked a simple question initially and you chose to make it complicated. They did not need to know how you longed for love, how the hope for it in your potential future was what kept you going. It was foolish and you supposed after this, they would only see you as a silly girl with outlandish dreams of a storybook romance.

Finally, Osferth broke the silence. "Well, I shall be praying fervently for this man….hopefully he knows what he is getting into before he marries you."

You laughed, appreciating his lighthearted comment. Reaching a hand out to smack Osferth's arm, you teased. "Keep that up and you won't be invited to my wedding."

"Your mother will let me in."

"Yeah, you're probably right." You glanced over in the direction of the town, regretting that your time away had to end. "I need to head back, those chores won't finish themselves."

The three of you headed back to the town, quiet contemplation cloaking your group. Yet you feared that whatever spark lay between you and the Dane had been extinguished forever by your unexpected honesty. For still he refused to look your way, keeping his gaze focused forward. If your heart fissured within your chest, you swallowed down the pain. It was better for the spark to die out now then burn brightly only to be smothered later.

Or at least that was what you told yourself.

*****

"What you said….about the sinners and the saints…."

You whirled around, heart leaping into your throat with a silent scream on your tongue. In the small herb garden behind your house, you had thought you were alone. After the awkward conversation on the hill earlier that day, you sought solace in your chores. Thankfully Osferth and Sihtric headed back to meet with their companions on their own accord, leaving you to trudge through your muddled thoughts with all the grace of a newborn foal.

Now you found the very person who your thoughts centered on, standing just a few paces from you….and your heart began to race for a very different reason.

When his voice trailed off, those dark eyes that set fire licking through your veins dropped to the ground, you quietly stood up from where you had knelt, wiping the dirt from your hands, although you moved no closer.

"Sihtric?" You tried to prompt him.

"Is it true?" His piercing gaze lifted to meet yours, stealing the very breath from your lungs. "Your love doesn't discriminate?"

"Yes." You breathed out.

He nodded silently before taking a step closer to you. "And what about….what about Danes?"

Your chest pulled tight at his words, yet a coy smile grew on your lips. The flutter in your belly made your gaze drop for a moment as you tried to stifle the excitement making butterflies dance. Although this was no declaration, it was the closest the two of you had talked about what lay between you. Taking a steadying breath, you prayed this moment would not pass by without confessing the truth that you had harbored in your heart for weeks now.

"Not even towards Danes." You shook your head, the smile still on your lips. "And…. There is one I'm becoming quite fond of lately."

"Yeah?" He took two steps closer, somehow moving cautiously but eating the ground with each determined step.

"But….do you think this Dane could be….fond of me?" You softly murmured, feeling as if your heart lay in the palms of your hands for all to see.

That last step separating you two disappeared almost before you finished asking your question. His hands ever so gently reached over to take yours, entwining your fingers together. The two of you stood so close, your chests almost touched with each breath you took. Your breathing seemed to cease under the intensity of his gaze and a shiver raced up your spine. Yet you had no desire to withdraw from him.

"He would be a fool not to." He whispered, the barest hint of a tremble in his voice. "I'd bet you are constantly on this Dane's mind. That he cannot go a day without seeing your face and hearing your laugh. You are the first thought that he wakes to and the reason he falls asleep with a smile. That you have become the north star that it seems the gods have been guiding him towards for his whole life."

As he spoke, everything faded to oblivion around you. The past and future vanished. Dane versus Saxon disappeared. The world narrowed down to this….this moment….this moment that you had dreamt of but never thought would come true.

The two of you continued to stand there, lost in one another's eyes with fingers intertwined. Your heart raced within your chest but a cooling breeze swept away the fears that plagued your mind. For staring at him, you knew he spoke no falsehoods. That he owned your heart just as much as you owned his. That very heart you could feel hammering away in his own chest. His eyes fervently held yours, a silent conversation, a confession, spoken only in looks but you both understood the language. His gaze dipped down to your lips, tracing them before slowly rising once again to your eyes. A curl of pleasure blossomed in your core as you witnessed the fire now in his eyes.

"If this Dane wanted to kiss me…. I wouldn't mind."

A deliciously, sinful smirk teased his mouth. "As my lady commands."

His head tilted, leaning towards yours. Unconsciously your eyelids fluttered closed. Then the briefest of touches made your knees weak and your mouth part open in a sigh. After a moment's hesitation, he continued to shower your jawline with kisses. Needing to touch him, your hands landed on his chest, feeling the tunic that covered his firm chest. Your hands moved upward to grasp the back of his neck, his pulse jumping for a second as your nails scraped his skin. His hands landed on the curve of your waist, bringing you even closer to him, erasing the unwanted space between your bodies.

As his lips began their ascent upward along the otherwise of your jaw, you moved. For the burning sparks in your body screamed if he did not kiss you, you would spontaneously combust. Shifting your face, you stole a kiss on his lips before he could place it on your skin. It was more of a gentle pressing of your mouths, but even then, you heard a sharp inhale from him. Before you could question him, his mouth returned to yours with soft, probing kisses that urged you to respond. Not that you would ever deny him. What started off as a gentle flame quickly became a roaring fire. Breathing became unnecessary, for how could air bring you life when your body craved Sihtric, when your lungs demanded to breathe him in instead. He led you in a drugging kiss that had you melting against him. Your lips drank from one another as if that alone could sustain you forevermore.

"THANK YA, GOD!!"

The passionate kiss abruptly ended as Sihtric and your gazes darted towards the side of your house. Only to be met with the sight of his three companions standing at the entrance in various states of smugness.

"Oh, for the love of Odin…." Sihtric mumbled.

You buried your face in Sihtric's chest, face heated in embarrassment but unable to stop the giggles that poured forth. So caught up in finally confessing your feelings and kissing the man who haunted your dreams, you forgot that anyone could walk by and see you. His arms tightened around you, keeping you within his protective, loving embrace….and you knew there was nowhere else you would rather be.

"Took the two of ya long enough." Finan continued, leaning against the side of your humble home with a shit-eating grin.

"Amen." Osferth had a small, teasing smile on his face. "Thought I would have to lock them in a room together before one of them finally confessed."

Apparently, you and Sihtric were not as subtle as you previously thought. Now it made sense why Osferth was questioning you about Cedric and your thoughts on love and marriage earlier. Your heart flooded with gratitude towards your childhood friend, for without him you doubted neither Sihtric or you would have spoken up. Peering over, you caught Osferth's eye and mouthed a quick 'thank you'. He nodded, a simple joy radiating from his face.

"Lord?" Sihtric called over with a blank expression. "Permission to continue?"

Uhtred chuckled. "I guess you've waited long enough. Go ahead."

Without waiting a moment longer, Sihtric tipped your face back up towards his and claimed your lips once more. You vaguely thought you heard laughter coming from the others but it all blurred away, like a faint sound while underwater. All you could see, all you could feel, all you could hear was Sihtric.

Just how you wanted it.

Suddenly you yanked your head back, your breathing labored and lips swollen. "My mother is helping at a nearby farm today. She won't be back until it's dark."

He hummed against your skin trailing small kisses along your jawline and down your neck as if unable to keep his hands and mouth off you now that the dam had been released.

"I'm not as pure as Osferth thinks me to be."

That statement made his actions stop. Carefully he raised his head to meet your gaze. "After dark?" He confirmed, voice rough in a way that sent a bolt of heat through you.

"Yes, she planned on having supper with them….so my home is currently empty….and I did just clean my blankets the other day…."

He swooped in to give you a feverish, greedy kiss that left no doubt where his mind had gone. When he finally pulled back, you were surprised your legs could still hold you upright. Your whole body felt like puddy in his arms and he had only kissed you, albeit you doubted you would ever forget the way his mouth worshiped yours.

"You are certain? You want this?" He softly asked, staring into your eyes once more. "You want me?"

It was the last question, the vulnerable undertone, the hint of insecurity in it that sealed your decision. Letting your actions be your answer, you grabbed his hand and started pulling him in the direction of the door to your home. It did not take more than a second for him to come beside you, wrapping his arm around your waist.

With his taste on your lips, the future did not matter right now. It did not matter that he was Dane and you were not. All you knew was Sihtric was neither a saint nor a sinner, but simply a man deserving of love. The river of your love was pointing you directly towards him, and you silently vowed to never let it run dry.

#ems100 #mzwrites #The Last Kingdom #the last kingdom fanfic #the last kingdom fandom #the last kingdom imagine #sihtric x reader #sihtric kjartansson #Sihtric #sihtric imagine #Uhtred #Uhtred of Bebbanburg #osferth #finan #finan the agile

658 notes · View notes

itstimetotheorize · 3 years

Text

little nightmares 2, would the world have been saved if the Black Tower fell?

A couple of weeks after the games release, David Mevrik, the lead narrative designer, sat down in an interview and answered some much needed questions about the little nightmares 2 game. Naturally, in an effort to maintain the mystery of the world, David proceeds to take every question that is thrown at him and gives a bizarre and cryptic answer in return. The only thing that he does confirm directly is the fact that little nightmares 2 take place before little nightmares 1, meaning that little nightmares 2 IS a prequel!

(link to interview)

https://www.gamingbible.co.uk/features/games-little-nightmares-2-ending-explained-writer-confirms-prequel-20210311

Although this one answer helped fans alleviate some major confusion, it still does not give us the answers needed to determine what exactly is going on in the little nightmares world. As the interview ends, David leaves us with his cryptic answers knowing fully well that we will do everything we can to try and decipher them in order to theorize for ourselves what is actually happening in this world of little nightmares. Now, out of al the things he was asked, one question in particular had constantly left my mind wondering and asking, “what did he mean by that?”

The question I am referring to is, “ Who built the Signal Tower, and what was the inspiration behind it (both in terms of in-game lore and your IRL inspirations)?”

to which David replies, “The world of Little Nightmares doesn't work that way, creatures and places exist for a reason. In the first game, The Maw exists because the hunger exists, and here, The Signal Tower exists because the need for escapism exists. Sure, in the game it beams out The Transmission to everyone's TVs, but it would be trite and wrong to say that it's only about the ubiquity of screens. It's inspired by this idea of the spectacle; this thing that delights you in order to destroy you, that corrupts the way you see the world and blinds you to the true monsters. We have centuries of inspiration for something so foul, you just need a good pair of sunglasses.”

Out of all the details that can be taken from his cryptic answer, there was always one piece that had constantly stood out to me, “ The Maw exists because the hunger exists, and here, The Signal Tower exists because the need for escapism exists. Sure, in the game it beams out The Transmission to everyone's TVs, but it would be trite and wrong to say that it's only about the ubiquity of screens”

Out of all the words displayed within these sentences, David specifically chose “Trite” and “Ubiquity” in his response. Before, many of use were certain that we understood exactly what he meant, but did we really? when you look up the definition of these two words you would come to find that they mean so much more:

Trite- overused and consequently of little import; lacking originality or freshness.

Ubiquity- the fact of appearing everywhere or of being very common.

what does this mean exactly? it means that David might have been trying to tell us that just because the tower sends out its transmission to the world, it would be boring and unoriginal to believe that the world is the way it is just because there are a ton of tvs broadcasting a single transmission. So then, if it truly isnt just about the tower and the tvs then what else could there be...or rather...what else is happening in the world that we don't yet know about?...what even is this world?!...perhaps... we have already been given that answer.

In the school, when mono is trying to solve the chess puzzle, there is something within the room that many of us, at the time, had overlooked and taken for granted. This particular item was something so common that we didn't even think about just how important it truly was within the little nightmares games and its world!, what exactly is this item that I am referring to?...its a region map...of the little nightmares world!

for those who do not know, world maps are often divided up into smaller pieces to better organize them. The map seen within the school, reveals to us, a piece of the worlds geography!

For the longest time, many of us had wondered what else was beyond the maw, sure we have seen the nest and the pale city, but this map is the first solid piece of evidence we have come across that tells us just how large the world of little nightmares is. What’s even more interesting is that this map, does not have the signal tower or the thin man drawn over it to symbolize their control/influence over the world!, what does it have drawn over every inch of it?... the all seeing eye!

For years we had suspected that an entity of higher power was present in the little nightmares games and for the longest time many of us had believed that the eyes, which were referenced all over the world, were a hint towards that higher entity. In another interview question, David is even asked, “A lot of fans believe that someone, some unseen threat, has been pulling the strings in the world Little Nightmares. Is this the case... and might we meet them one day?”

To which David replies, “That depends if I'm ever allowed to go out in public again.”

When David answers the question, he talks as if he were in a position where he lacks the free will to make his own simple choices, that he needs the permission of another presence that’s currently watching over him... just who or what is this other presence? well... isn't it obvious...its the eyes!

Near the end of little nightmares 2, after mono frees six from her monstrous form, fans finally get the chance to meet the entity responsible for all the suffering faced by not just mono and six, but the entire world! As the tower begins to crumble, it reveals to us its true form, a gigantic fleshy mass comprised of giant eyes!

Whats even more surprising is that this giant eye entity may not just be located in the black tower. In Little nightmares 1, as well as the LN1 DLC, we see pictures of a similar eye within a structure/building!.

However unlike the eye entity within the black tower, the eye seen in portraits on the maw appears to be located within some sort of light house...which ironically enough, if you look up the concept art of the maw, you would come to find that the maw had a lighthouse located atop the small island it carries!

And I know what you are thinking, “but wait this is concept art, it didn't even make it into the final game”, yes, but the fact that this specific art is still seen REPEATEDLY throughout the maw in little nightmares 1 as well as the DLC, could possibly hint that this eye bearing lighthouse might still exist, somewhere within the maw! What does this mean exactly? it means that even the maw, a large cruise ship that travels all throughout the oceans of the world, bears within it a large entity similar to the eye entity within the black tower of the pale city! What’s even more insane is that these two very distinct eyes, from two very distinct places, could very well be just two small pieces of a much larger mass watching over the entire world as it feeds upon its residents in one way or another! To be fair, we still dont know what exactly this thing is, let alone how it came to be in the world, but what we do know is that the residents of the world are obsessed with it!

David has always said that the maw exists because hunger exists and that the tower exists because escapism exists, but if each place existed from one corrupt human desire then I wonder... are there other structures like them in the world?, and do these other structures revolve around an entirely different existing human need that has been corrupted by the eye entities hypnotic light/spell ?...maybe...

Then again...this does beg the question... If the maw sank and if the tower was left to fall, would we have truly ended the nightmarish world that mono and six resided in or would we have simply ended two very small parts of a much larger nightmare occurring in the world? If the eye is truly responsible for all the suffering seen throughout the childrens lives, then what would the children of this world even do to fight the nightmare that they are trapped in ? would they continue to run and hide, hoping that it is enough to help them survive until adult hood?.... or would they need to accept the reality of this world... take the power that’s there...learn to make it their own and become themselves... little nightmares...

honestly... whos to say.. should these children choose to make these heart wrenching decisions, would they still be viewed by the all seeing eye as victims?... or would they be seen as threats that need to be stopped before they have the chance to cripple the power it has used to feed upon the world it has latched itself onto....... I guess we will just have to wait and see... but hey, that’s just a theory, a little nightmares theory!

181 notes · View notes

chitto · 3 years

Text

I ANALYZED ALL OF THE NEW SONGS ON RANBOO'S LORE PLAYLIST - HERE'S WHAT I FOUND

Back in March, I listened to every single song on Ranboo's DMCA Lore Playlist. I came up with a solid theory, published my evidence and that was that. My work was done.

But nope! Ranboo's back and he's deleted a ton of songs and added more. And so I listened. Again. And I'm back with a theory, and it does not look good.

This new batch of songs shows us that this is a new era of c!Ranboo. Redesign Your Logo is meant to tell us that things are changing, and so is c!Ranboo. This could be do to the fact that something bad is most likely going to happen to c!Ranboo in the near future, probably the taking of his first canon life. Songs like Eyewishes and Goodbye heavily point to the ending of a chapter (or life) of c!Ranboo. The song Blue Monday isn’t anything revolutionary, as we were already well aware of the toxic relationship between c!Ranboo and c!Dream. Another thing to point out is that Everybody Wants To Rule The World sets up an interesting take on nuclear weapons, a thing that c!Tubbo has and c!Ranboo doesn’t know exists. If c!Ranboo were to find out about the nukes, it could lead to the two fighting over whether or not they were a good thing. Going into Time Moves Slow, the narrator there discusses a relationship that just ended between them and their lover, meaning there could be a c!Beeduo divorce arc in the near future.

Below are the analyses on each individual song and the added and deleted songs

Deleted: Prologue (StarKid), Introduction to the Snow (Miracle Musical), Dream Sweet in Sea Major (Miracle Musical), Turn the Lights Off (Tally Hall), The Mind Electric (Miracle Musical), The Ruler of Everything (Tally Hall), Ain't No Rest for The Wicked (Cage the Elephant), The Bidding (Tally Hall), Stranded Lullaby (Miracle Musical), Hidden in the San (Tally Hall), & (Tally Hall), I'm Gonna Win (Rob Cantor).

Added: Redesign Your Logo (Lemon Demon), Everybody Wants to Rule the World (Tears for Fears), Blue Monday (New Order), Eyewishes (Lemon Demon), Bystanding (Lemon Demon), Goodbye (Bo Burnham), Time Moves Slow (BADBADNOTGOOD and Samuel T. Herring).

Redesign Your Logo (Lemon Demon) - This song is about a pdf that went around during 2009 about the Pepsi company logo. In it, the Arnell group is trying to sell Pepsi a new logo, so that they can make tons of money. I feel that this song symbolizes evolution and growth, we’re entering a new era of c!Ranboo. He’s redesigned and rebranded. This song could also be on this playlist because of a fan animation on youtube set to the same song by Shyshui.

Everybody Wants To Rule The World (Tears for Fears) - This song was written about the Cold War between The Soviet Union and The United States that happened during the 20th Century. The main line of the song ‘Everybody Wants to Rule the World’ is about how everyone wants power, and the misery that it brings with it. This is a theme we can see clearly on the DreamSMP, with many leaders such as c!Eret, c!George, c!Bad, c!Wilbur, and c!Dream all leading lives of misery in one way or another. This is also important for c!Ranboo, as he is the most powerful man on the server. It tells us that his power will soon be his misery. Also a small little thing I’d like to point out is the line ‘Say that you’ll never, never, never, never need it’ which is meant to be about the use of nuclear devices during that time period. Many governments had them but claimed they would only use them if another country was launching a nuclear attack. This could translate to c!Tubbo owning nukes and c!Ranboo possibly finding out, which could cause discourse between the two.

Blue Monday (New Order) - Blue Monday is about the singer pondering the mistreatment of their person by someone they trusted. The person seems to be manipulative and toxic for the singer but the singer is too far under their control to leave them. Immediately we can tell that this song is most likely about the relationship between c!Ranboo and c!Dream. c!Dream uses c!Ranboo as his errand boy, making him do all sorts of tasks, although this hasn’t really happened since the Disc War Confrontation. However, we know the c!Dream still has some sort of hold over c!Ranboo because we saw c!Sapnap trigger an Enderwalk episode by giving c!Ranboo a message from c!Dream.

Eyewishes (Lemon Demon) - Eyewishes is a song about a distraught man who has no eyelashes, as he used them all on wishes, and now he can make no more wishes. The man pours out his frustrations and then resolves to committing suicide. While I don’t believe c!Ranboo would take his own life, I believe that he soon will die. The last line of this song is ‘So take care of my plants and pets and now I’ll say good-’. c!Ranboo has many pets in his care and he would want them taken care of after he dies. I could see him saying this line to a character like c!Tubbo. However, c!Ranboo is still on three canon lives and would not perma died if killed.

Bystanding (Lemon Demon) - Bystanding is the direct sequel to Eyewishes, starting off with bi, completing the phrase ‘goodbye’ started at the end of Eyewishes. Other than this, the song has no real points of interest as it’s just the singer repeating different words, working his way up from 2 to 5.

Goodbye (Bo Burnham) - I’m going to split this song up into two sections, just because I think there’s a lot to cover here. Let’s start pre-bridge. For context, Goodbye is the final track from the comedy-musical special Inside, done by Bo Burnham. Bo says the special was a long project for him as he filmed the entire thing in his house during COVID-19 Quarantine. The beginning part of this song talks a lot about how Bo doesn’t want the special to be over because now he has nothing else to do, and he’ll just have to live his life. This could translate into c!Ranboo losing a lot of things that he worked for, such as his valuables (totems and riches) and just being a normal person again. It could also signify an ending of a chapter for him, maybe his marriage ending, his partnership with the Syndicate ending. However, I believe that its most likely to be c!Ranboo’s neutrality ending. During the recent lore stream he did with c!Wilbur, we finally saw c!Ranboo pick a side. He chose Wilburger over Las Nevadas, losing his trademark neutral stance. c!Ranboo thought his neutrality made him more than others, that he was the one able to see over the conflict, but now he’s just like everyone else. He has a side and an enemy. Let’s move into the bridge and ending of the song now. The first line I’d like to call specifically is ‘Wanna guess the ending, if it ever does.’ This line could maybe signify the fact that throughout the history of the SMP there have been many times that the conflict and story feel like they’ve finally come to a close, only for everything to start up once again. The next lyric is ‘If I wake up in a house that’s full of smoke, I’ll panic, so call me up and tell me a joke.’ This is a callback to another song on Inside, Comedy, in which Bo talks about using his comedy as a way to help people, but really it was he who needed help. c!Ranboo acts as a protector for a lot of characters, most notable c!Tubbo and tried hard to please most people and aid as many as he can, but most of the time he’s the one needed the most help. Similar to Bo, c!Ranboo doesn’t realize he needs help until it’s too late.

Time Moves Slow (BADBADNOTGOOD and Samuel T. Herring) - This song is about a person who’s lover has left them, and although it’s painful they know its for the better. This could, unfortunately, suggest a c!beeduo split but there is another part of this song that I’d like to touch on. ‘Running away is easy, its the living that’s hard.’ This is the chorus for the song and it talks about how running from your problems is easier than facing them but having to live without them is hard. Throughout the story, we often see c!Ranboo ignore his problems, most recently with the vandalism of c!Tubbo’s cookie shop. c!Ranboo found it and decided to fix it and tell no one it happened, which lead to a hostile confrontation between c!Quackity and c!Tubbo.

#PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF CHRIST REBLOG THIS #THESE TAKE ME AN INSANE AMOUNT OF TIME #dsmp #dreamsmp #dream smp #ranboo #ranboo dsmp #c!ranboo theory #c!ranboo analysis #dsmp analysis #dsmp theory

60 notes · View notes

abeautifulblog · 3 years

Text

A Brief (Social) History of Time

Time is one of the many things that writers coming from a modern perspective have a terrible, terrible habit of taking granted when they attempt to write a premodern fantasy. Modern notions of the second, the minute, the hour, the day, the week, (the WEEKEND!), the month, often get copy-pasted into fantasy literature wholesale, and often the only sop to it being a non-earth setting is a hasty name-change.

(Like: Whoa shit, son! there can't be a January if this world doesn't have a Janus, so I'll call it... uhm... Manuary. >_>)

As a fantasy writer, one of my preoccupations is how things might have developed differently. So obviously our current calendar, with its 28-to-31-day months, 7-day weeks, and 24-hour days is one way that it could have developed, as is proven by the fact that it did, but are there other ways it could have gone? We think of it as natural and self-evident because it's what we're used to, but might some other system work equally well? Or are there real, physical factors in play that would inevitably lead us back to the same calendar? Is there a reason for having 12 months? Is there a reason why weeks have seven days? Is there a reason to have weeks at all?

In short, how do you invent a time system that could have plausibly developed? Or should you just file the serial numbers off the Gregorian system and use that?

It happened in Angen 3, if I recall correctly. On the 28th day of the 4th month, sometime during the hour of the dog, a fire broke out in the southeastern quarter of the capital and was driven northward by fierce, relentless winds.

(Kamo no Chomei, Hojoki, translation mine)

IN THE BEGINNING, THERE WAS...

...the moon.

Seriously, it's right there. Everyone sees the same moon, its changes are unmistakable and obvious to all, as regular as clockwork. It's not a coincidence that almost every early calendar hitched its cart to the cycles of the moon -- that's a solid foundation for keeping time. And indeed, if the 29.5-day lunar cycle had in any way correlated with a solar year, we'd probably still be using it.

Because of far more practical importance than the cycle of the moon is the cycle of the sun. People need to know when they can expect temperatures to change, farmers need to know when the annual flooding is going to occur, sailors need to know when the trade winds are going to pick up. The lunar cycle provides a good way to tick off 30-day increments, but the solar cycle is what has tangible effects on people's lives.

So to a certain extent, your calendar does have to be grounded in the physical world in order to be realistic. A month is going to be a full cycle of the moon; a year is going to be a full rotation through the seasons, but if your fantasy setting isn't supposed to be earth, then there's no reason why those would be the same length as they are in our world.

Case study: Kirith Kirin

Jim Grimsley got into some trouble with this in Kirith Kirin (one of my all-time favorite fantasy novels and a gem of world-building) because the protagonist, Jessex, is stated to be 14 years old when he shags the eponymous immortal king. That got some people up in arms, but if you look at the appendix and tally up the number of days in each month, it turns out that a year in Grimsley's world is about a third again as long as ours, and Jessex is closer to nineteen.

I mean, for whatever that's worth. He's still a teenager shagging an immortal king.

In fact, your calendar is probably not going to be 365 days -- not every year, anyway. Because in physical terms, a "year" is the time it takes a planet to make one full revolution around the star that it orbits, which has nothing to do with the length of a "day," i.e., how long one planetary rotation takes.

This is the source of all of our calendar shenanigans.

It takes earth 365 days, 5 hours, 48 minutes, and 45.1875 seconds to make one full rotation around the sun. There is literally no way to map that to a fixed number of days.

As far back as the Babylonians and ancient Egyptians, they'd already figured out that 365 days was as close as you could get to a year, but even that was going to stay accurate for only so long, like a clock running just a bit slow. In Egypt this resulted in what's known as a "wandering year," where the named months gradually rotated through all the seasons, coming full circle in slightly over 1,400 years. The Babylonians devised a calendar of 19-year cycles, in which seven of the years had 12 months, and twelve of the years had 13 months. If that sounds confusing, it was -- February 29th is downright elegant by comparison.

That said, this is your fantasy world, and if you want to make your year correlate precisely to some number of days, that is entirely okay. I doubt readers are going to complain that you didn't derail the plot to talk about leap-years.

A more socially-relevant question is what year your story is taking place in. In the west we've become very accustomed to the B.C./A.D. divide and the concept of a year zero -- and indeed, come to think of that system as natural, what humans would default to, even. But who gets to decide when HISTORY AS WE KNOW IT began? And how are they powerful enough to make everyone else follow their lead? In our world it was the Catholic Church, but if you don't have a similarly powerful organization in your world, then odds are pretty slim that all the various nations would agree on one particular event as being important enough to anchor the calendar there.

What people did in China and Japan -- what they probably did in most places, I suspect -- was to reset the calendar with the reign of every new emperor. Such a system meets the needs of pre-modern peoples admirably, because peasants have no need for the dates of events that occurred hundreds of years before they were born. A king or emperor generally lives long enough for their reign to be a meaningful chunk of someone's life, so you'd know the kings you'd lived through, and probably a generation or so back, and that was perfectly adequate for dating -- with precision! -- anything that had occurred in living memory.

It's also useful to keep in mind that no country ever exists in isolation, that there's going to be economic and cultural exchange with other countries, and that Hegemony Is a Thing. Once internationalization begins in earnest and there starts to be a need for things like an agreed-upon calendar, then whatever system in use by the most powerful country stands a good chance of being the one that everyone else winds up adopting out of necessity. Some places may also keep their own system (I have, for instance, filled out paperwork and had to list my year of birth as "Showa 60"), but they'll have a working familiarity with the "common" calendar.

THE MONTH

It's not a coincidence that month is cognate with moon, or that nearly every calendar mankind has ever devised wound up dividing the year into 12 months. Even if a month on today's calendars is completely detached from the cycles of the moon, it was thanks to the moon that 29.5 days got entrenched in our heads as a meaningful unit of time.

So what if you had three moons? WHAT IF YOU HAD NONE??

There is no way to tell, because the only data we've got comes from our own history, and there's no control group. It does speak to a universal human need to break time down into chunks more manageable than "years," and indicates that 30-ish days is a length that works for human cognition.

Case Study: Kirith Kirin again

Speaking of three moons, that happens to be how many there are in the world of Kirith Kirin -- they're just not on any kind of schedule. It is literally completely random which moon (or moons) is going to appear on any given night. Ditto the stars. According to legend, the moons and stars used to move in accordance with predictable patterns, until god got angry with humanity and broke the sky.

That's not a major plot point so they don't dwell on it, but it's jarring enough to give the reader pause, violating our sense of the natural order, and it has some interesting implications. Jessex later theorizes that the reason why science developed so slowly in their world is because they didn't have a solid foundation in nature to build on.

And if you think that an unpredictable night sky is a physical impossibility -- yeah, no kidding. That's supposed to be a hint that there's something low-key fucky with this world.

Some places number their months, some name them after gods, some give them a name that's related to what's going on at that time of year. The traditional Japanese calendar has some with obvious names like "Month of Leaves" (August), "Month of Water" (June, when the rice fields flood), plus some weird ones like "Month of Books" and "Priests Running." The vikings called the end of winter “month of marrow-breaking,” because that's when your food stores were running low and you were down to sucking the marrow out of bones.

The real point to take away is that even if your solar calendar isn't attached to your lunar calendar, people have a compulsion to divide time into more manageable chunks, and the length of a moon cycle makes a solid and universal foundation for one. Speaking of the human tendency to divvy up time, that brings us to...

THE WEEK

Seriously, everyone does it. This is kind of crazy, when you think about it, because there is no natural or astrological basis for grouping days into weeks, but people do it everywhere.

Granted, that doesn't mean they all agree on how long a week is. Our seven-day standard is an arbitrary median, from a range that averages between 5 days and 10. Whatever number is considered ~lucky~ in your culture is a good bet for the length of their week.

It is also worth noting that our days-of-the-week rotate independently of our day/month/year calendar, but that is not necessarily the norm. Weeks in ancient Egypt and Rome were ten days long, each month was comprised of three fixed weeks, and the language had words for the first, second, and third week of the month. In Latin you might recognize the famous “Ides of March” -- the beginning/middle/end weeks were called the nones, the ides, and the kalends.

If you're paying attention you'll notice that’s not a multiple of 365 -- they had to tack on an extra 5 days at the end of the year and set them aside for religious festivities. Other places distributed those extra days among the months, so that some months had 30 days and some had 31. (Starting to sound familiar? :D)

The traditional Japanese week was also ten(ish) days long, and a month was three weeks. They're on a seven-day calendar now, but a relic of this survives in the language, in that they (same as Latin) have a set of words meaning "beginning third of the month", "middle third", and "closing third." When I first learned those vocabs, I was like, what the hell is the point? But of course, those used to just be the words for "first week", "middle week", and "final week."

(And they do turn out to be surprisingly useful for indicating a general time. Examples from newspaper: "Current temperatures are typical for the jojun of April" or "A vote on the bill is expected during the gejun of this month.")

The need for days of rest also seems to be a universal human trait, which has generated many diverse justifications for why people are allowed not to work, but the upshot is the same -- people get some R&R. In the Christian west, of course, it was because God rested on the seventh day and people should do likewise. Followers of the sun god Mithras were happy to support the Christian push to hold Sunday sacred.

In other places, it's because certain days were considered highly inauspicious for certain types of work, or when specific activities were proscribed -- so ironically, it was often the BAD AND UNLUCKY DAYS when you got to kick back and relax. For the Romans, "Saturn's Day was a day of evil omen when all tasks were ill-starred, a day when battles should not be fought, nor journeys begun. No prudent person would want to risk the mishaps that Saturn might bring." (The Discoverers, Daniel Boorstin)

Japan has what's called the Rokuyou, a six-day cycle in which some days are considered better than others for certain activities. Taian is the bestest and luckiest for everything, butsumetsu is the worst. An interesting one is tomo-biki, meaning "friend pull," which is auspicious for everything except funerals, because you don't want the dead person friend-pulling anyone down with them.

(No one ~really~ believes in this anymore, the same way no one in America ~really~ believes that black cats and Friday the 13th are unlucky... and yet you can still get your wedding catered dirt-cheap if you're willing to do it on a butsumetsu day.)

Similar concepts had been in play well before Rokuyou came along though -- as far back as The Tale of Genji (circa 1000 AD), certain days were considered bad for all kinds of random things. That you couldn't travel, for example, or that you couldn't travel north -- so if you've gone to visit a friend who lives south of you, welp, looks like you're stuck there until tomorrow! (...This is mostly used as a “baby it's cold outside” plot device to give Genji an excuse to stay the night with his ladies.)

Case Study: French Republican Calendar and Melusine

After the French revolution there was a push to get rid of royalist and religious influences, and one obvious place was in the calendar -- replacing the traditional lundi/mardi/mercredi with numbers, and also giving each day a plant or animal affiliation instead of a saint. Except they didn't stop there, because this was during the push for decimalization and they wanted to establish timekeeping in increments of ten. So they devised a system of 10-day weeks, 10-hour days, 100-minute hours, and 100-second minutes, and gave it a whirl.

It lasted all of twelve years.

The thing is, that system is no less legit than any other, so it probably would have worked just fine if they'd had it all along, or if they could have persuaded the rest of Europe to follow suit, but the world was too internationalized by that point, and they couldn't afford to be running on a different schedule from everyone else. (It didn't help that they lengthened the week, but didn't lengthen the weekend -- nine consecutive days of work had laborers going FUCK THIS NOISE.)

Sarah Monette's Doctrine of Labyrinths series does something similar, in that the city of Melusine has two different, somewhat competing systems of timekeeping in effect. There's the shiny new one of months and weeks and decades, used by rich educated people who have learned the new system because they'd look like a total rube if they didn't, and then there's the older, considerably more confusing mess of septads and decads and indictions, that the lower classes use because they don't have any real motivation to change. Why should they? They know how it works.

I've heard readers complain about it, because there is no handy appendix in the back that tells you how long an indiction is, but I quite enjoyed it -- context usually indicates how long a time frame they're talking about, and it's a nifty piece of world-building.

ASTROLOGY: ROUNDS UP TO SCIENCE!

More scientific than trying to read entrails, anyway.

And to be fair, the moon revolves around the earth and everyone can see the effect it has on the tides. Stands to reason that all the other twinkly lights in the sky would also have some effect on life on earth, doesn't it? Astrology was a science in that its effects were not random, or resulting from the whims of some god, they were thought to be both regular and based on evidence drawn from nature.

(Johannes Keppler made his living as an astrologer sometimes, much to his chagrin, because a degree in math wasn't all that lucrative otherwise. He is reported to have said that it was better than begging in the streets.)

Boorstin talks about how astrology dictated the structure of court life in imperial China, for example, how it was the empress and not a lesser concubine who got her conjugal visits with the emperor on nights when the stars were in alignment for making sons or whatever. Take that with a grain of salt, because Boorstin is a western-civ guy with an unexamined eurocentric bias a mile wide and a tendency not to notice when he's talking out of his ass about Asia, but it does open up some very interesting possibilities for fiction. What if succession was determined not by primogeniture, but by which child was born under the most auspicious combination of signs? That may never have actually happened, but it would make a fascinating premise to explore in fantasy.

Case Study: Point of Hopes

Written by Melissa Scott and Lisa Barnett, Point of Hopes and its sequels are set in an Elizabethan-flavored fantasy world, with the significant twist that horoscopes are a really big deal. They're determined by the time of one's birth, and the more precisely you know your time of birth, the more accurately your horoscope can be figured. (Obviously rich people have the means to measure that with precision, while poor people likely have to guess it to the closest quarter hour.) It's believed to influence and/or predict every aspect of a person's life, to the point where a policeman investigating a series of kidnappings is trying to find out when one of the victims was born, in the hopes that her horoscope might offer some clues about her abduction.

I liked that this belief was never proven true or false by authorial fiat. It stays plausible enough to have been a belief system that could have endured, as astrology did and still does, but doesn't get legitimized as definitively real either, the way magic usually does in fantasy.

DAYS AND HOURS

(We're coming up on the end now, I promise.)

The first thing to keep in mind is that for most of human history there hasn't been a need for precise timekeeping. Time is only meaningful because we all agree that it is, so really, you only have to be as precise as your peers.

If everyone's gauging time by the position of the sun, then "near sunrise" or "near noon" or "sometime before noon" works just fine. (Boorstin: "Since no one in Rome could know the exact hour, promptness was an uncertain, and uncelebrated, virtue.") If you've got a town crier or a village clocktower announcing the hour, then your people might demand a bit more punctuality. Or maybe everyone who's anyone carries a pocketwatch (or tucks an inro watch into their sash).

But even the concept of fixed time is a surprisingly modern invention. Before mechanical clocks, there were two general tacks people could take to measuring time: sundials and sand/water clocks. Only problem is, they're measuring entirely different things.

Sundials measure twelve hours between sunrise and sunset. Twelve hours. Middle of summer, middle of winter, sundial don't give a fuck. Every day is still going to have twelve hours, and an hour is going to be 1/12 of the daylight, which means that means an "hour" in summer is considerably longer than an "hour" in winter, and that is... not always so useful. As Boorstin put it: the sundial is an elastic yardstick.

There are other obvious drawbacks to using sundials -- they don't tell you anything about time passing at night, and they don't work on overcast days. A sundial has to be precisely calibrated for the latitude it's being used at, which makes it less useful on a boat or for people who are going to be traveling. Hence, even in the Roman empire, when they had sundials galore, the day was only formally divided into AM and PM and the only o'clock they bothered hiring a crier to announce was noon.

Water clocks (and later sand clocks) are not elastic, but they come with their own set of issues. There are two types of water clocks: ones that measure the inflow (in which case you need a source of water to feed into a graduated container) and ones that measure the outflow (in which case you need to account for the fact that the flow of the water will slow down as the amount decreases, since there will be less pressure, and also you need to make sure that the outflow spigot isn't going to erode larger with all the water that passes through it, because then suddenly time is passing faster.) In cold climates, the viscosity of water can change and mess up your careful calibration, or it might freeze altogether. In hot climates, water will evaporate off in an open system, and turn into steam and condensation in a closed one.

Even after the hourglass was invented, the basic problem remained the same: that these clocks measured a fixed length of time, but one that only existed in relation to... when you started the clock. It wasn't synchronized to anyone else's clocks, and so it wasn't able to coordinate the rhythms that people lived by.

They were also constrained by the physical fact that in order to measure longer periods of time, they had to be able to hold commensurately more water/sand. A 24-hour water clock was a public works project; there is no such thing as a 24-hour hourglass. Most of them were considerably shorter, used for cooking, measuring church sermons and university lectures, on ships (there was a clever way to use them to gauge speed), by craftsmen to measure their working hours, and in courts to make sure that opposing lawyers got equal talking time.

(There's a story about a lawyer who was particularly tiresome and also kept a pitcher of water nearby to drink from frequently, leading one Famous Roman Wit to be like, "GAWD, why don't you do us all a favor and drink from the clock instead?")

In any case, bringing the two systems together -- making a clock that was universal and grounded in the cycles of daylight, but that also measured off hours in fixed increments -- required the precision of machines, and that didn't happen in the west until the 14th century. It was in 1330 that the hour became 1/24 of a day. And so if you're writing a fantasy world that hasn't invented gears yet, think twice before tossing off a reference to hours.

Case Study: Jin

Jin is a Japanese drama about a modern-day neurosurgeon who falls down some stairs and wakes up in the Edo period. It's better than it sounds, I swear.

There are a lot of things that a time-traveler visiting the unwashed past knows to expect (and let no one accuse Jin of avoiding those cliches), but they also do a good job of bringing your attention to the things you might not have expected -- like how people figured time differently.

In the scene when Jin realizes, Holy shit, I am actualfax SOMEWHERE IN THE PAST, there are people walking around with SWORDS and KILLING EACH OTHER WITH THEM and unironically saying でござる, what the screaming flying fuck-- he turns to the love interest all manic-eyed and asks...

Jin: "WHAT YEAR IS IT??"😱😱😱

Saki: "Bunkyu 2." 😊 [cuz she rolls with his crazy like a champ]

Which doesn't mean a thing to him.

Jin: .... o_O !? "Is this... the Edo period?" [1600-1868]

Saki: "Uhm... this is Edo." [Edo = old name for Tokyo]

He starts to ask which shogun is in power, then realizes his command of history is shitty enough that it probably wouldn't help.

Jin: !! "Have the black ships already come?" [ie, Admiral Perry's arrival in Japan]

Saki: "Yep! That was like ten years ago."

MID 1860s!! MISSION ACCOMPLISHED!

Nor does it end there, because later he's on the verge of a time-critical operation and realizes that he's missing something vital...

Saki: "I can go back to the house and get it! It will only take one koku."

Jin: "??? How long is a koku??"

Saki: "A koku is... a koku? What?"

Jin: "Uhhhhh what percentage of a day is it?"

Saki: ".......What?"

She's not being dense, they just didn't figure time that way.

One koku, by the way, is about 2 hours -- which I suspect ties into the zodiac-derived clock mentioned in Hojoki, at the very top. A koku is two hours, so 12 koku in a day, twelve signs in the Chinese zodiac...

...and the events described in Hojoki took place in 1177, meaning that Japan (and so presumably China as well) had fixed hours before the west, before machines, and Boorstin doesn't know what he's talking about.

Sonovabitch. 😑

[After classical Japanese one day]

Me: "Hey Professor, remember that book you mentioned in passing that one time and recommended for people who were interested in the history of time-keeping?"

Professor: "Yup."

Me: "Well I read it, and Boorstin says that the fixed hour wasn't possible until the 14th century with the invention of machines, but Kamo no Chomei's reference to the 'Hour of the Dog' implies that the Japanese had fixed hours as early as 1177."

Professor: "Yup."

Me: "I tried looking it up on wikipedia to see when [the zodiac clock] was invented, but the English wiki doesn't have anything about it, and the Japanese wiki just says that it was the system in use 'until the kindai era.' [1868]"

Professor: "Yup."

Me: "How????"

Professor: "We'll talk about it after the midterm."

NoooOOOoooo, I want to talk about it now~~!

...or I suppose I could study for the midterm that's happening in two hours.

(ETA: And then I never did get the answer. Sorry. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

#worldbuilding #writing #share it with ur friends

291 notes · View notes

cardentist · 3 years

Text

the insistence that trans men face a lesser kind of oppression than trans women is no different from the insistence that bisexuality is a watered down form of gayness

all of these groups can have different relationships with their oppression thanks to how they’re presented and perceived by society (invisibility in media vs overt demonization in media for instance) but these differences being boiled down to one group being distinctly More Important or More Authentically Oppressed than the other is legitimately harmful.

on the surface both of these ideas seem to make a sort of logical sense. trans men are trans people But Men, and we all know how men are treated by society. bi people are like gay people except they also like people of a different gender, and straight people like it when you do that. add on the relative invisibility and there isn’t much in the mainstream to challenge those ideas.

the truth of the matter is that invisibility affects more than just mainstream media. this idea that bi people or trans men have lesser experiences with oppression are gut instinct because their voices, their experiences, have a history of under-representation. people don’t Hear the experiences that the people in these groups face and then create conditions within queer (and activist) spaces that treat those people like their voices matter less because they’re privileged. this creates a cycle where these groups are devalued and talked over because these groups are Already devalued and talked over.

this all pares horribly with the atmosphere in discourse (and particularly exclusionist) spaces where identities are used as social capital that is enforced by tearing down whoever it is you think is encroaching on your space. it’s not uncommon to see posts talking about the experiences of one identity that goes out of their way to exclude whatever’s being spoken of from another identity that they see as lesser, deliberately putting another identity down and crushing their voices in the conversation to lift themselves up. (the sheer amount of times I’ve seen a post start with “trans men Never-” while describing something I experience in my daily life is exhausting)

the most insidious thing about this is the fact that when you create an environment where oppression is social capital then someone trying to assert their lived experiences with their oppression when you view them as under you is considered overtly aggressive and is often framed as bigotry within itself, because theoretically if they’re equal to you then your social capital has been lowered. you see this Constantly within ace discourse, with people doing things like calling asexuality Inherently homophobic because they didn’t want to acknowledge another marginalized group’s oppression.

this can be particularly dangerous when it leaks into broader and more serious subject matter and colors how people look at and talk about a marginalized identity’s experiences. one of the bigger arguments in these spaces was that trans men are literally incapable of experiencing misogyny and this notion was enforced by people directly discrediting trans men talking about their experiences (telling people that they’re lying about their experiences, that their experiences didn’t happen in the way or for the reason that they said they did, and sometimes intentionally misgendering the person to discredit it). I had personal experience with that which was, not great I gotta say.

this kind of target vitriol isn’t unique to any of the mentioned groups, in fact it’s something that goes both ways. there are trans men who are absolutely Horrible to trans women. but well meaning people in activist spaces are particularly skittish to stand up for trans men in this situation because they’re Aware that trans women are particularly marginalized (which they are) while also being affected by the lack of visibility for trans men. I’ve seen people who engage with Nasty discourse defending asexuality, nonbinary people, transness in general, bi/pan people, etc who outright Refused to get involved in when it was trans men on the line because it wasn’t Worth it to them. that’s definitely anecdotal evidence on my part but it’s emblematic of a bigger issue.

moreover, there’s a common trend in and around queer spaces where people identify vulnerable groups based on how established they are and go out of their way to hurt those on the outskirts because they know that it’ll be tolerated. from asexuals to nonbinary people to mogai to neogenders to pan people to intersex people to polygamous people to bi people and beyond. what you’ll see a lot of is transphobic cis women extend performative activism towards trans women while being overtly transphobic towards trans men and justifying it with the fact that trans men are Men and therefore they’re punching up.

this wasn’t really made with one solid thesis in mind and I honestly could keep rambling until the sun died out, but to cap things off I want to remind people of something that I still think about to this day.

quite a few years ago trans men were looking for a term that they could use to describe their specific experiences with the intersection of transphobia and misogyny, particularly when trans men were being pushed out of spaces talking About that intersection. obviously “transmisogyny” was taken, so someone came up with the idea of taking that word as the root and changing it to be clearly and obviously about trans men. which is how the word “transmisandry” came about.

if you’ve lived through gamergate you probably just flinched reading that if it was your first time, which is fair. the point of the term was to make its meaning as immediately identifiable as possible. if you know what transmisogyny means and you know what misandry means then it’s not too difficult to put together what transmisandry is supposed to mean if you’re seeing it for the first time. that said, it (perhaps predictably) sparked quite a bit of controversy. but the criticism it got? was that trans men didn’t Need a term to describe their own experiences. trans men aren’t oppressed for being men, “transphobia” should cover all of their experiences because they don’t Have unique experiences, trans men don’t Deserve a term to describe their own experiences. a lot of this was attributed to ignorance after people started pointing out how fucked up that reaction was, how it was kneejerk, but I don’t think that’s an excuse anymore. I don’t think it should Ever be an excuse.

nowadays people tend to use “transandrophobia,” not because the meaning is any different, not because it’s a functionally better term, but because people weren’t Willing to overlook their kneejerk reaction to Not take a term away from another marginalized group because their ability to talk about their own lived experiences in their own spaces mattered Less than momentary discomfort.

#discourse #transphobia #transandrophobia #transmisandry #I don't even know where I'm going with this one #the parallel just hit me at like 4 am so here I am #[slaps down the same bullshit for the 78th time in a row] Bone App The Teeth

116 notes · View notes

queen-scribbles · 3 years

Text

The Long Burning Torch ch 3

Oh, look, another chapter for the 20s AU I started for the @shepherds-of-haven Summer Event, which has taken on a life of its own. In this chapter: A couple new (but familiar!) faces, and the plot thickens.

----

Five minutes into Ashtown proper, Xaeryn was exceedingly grateful for the directions Mr. Syndran had provided. He hadn’t been wrong comparing the place to a warren.

“You look lost, doll.”

Her head snapped up from the paper in her hand to meet the gaze of a lanky man lounging against a wall, a soft cap slouched down over his forehead. His--very familiar--green eyes were much more vivid in person than they had been in her scry.

Xaeryn arched a brow coolly. “And what led you to that conclusion?”

He smirked and pushed away from the wall. “The way you keep checking that paper for one, Sunshine.” His hands slid in his pockets. “Also, we don’t get dames that look like you here all that often. Anything I can help you find?”

“You’re awfully helpful,” Xaeryn said, resisting the urge to run a hand down her outfit.

He doffed his cap and sketched an exaggerated bow, giving her a wink when he righted. “Consider me the Ashtown welcoming committee.”

“And what a charming first impression you make.” Xaeryn regarded him for a moment or two more, then decided to see how things would play out. “I’m trying to find Chase Trinaeste.”

The man’s eyes twinkled, bright as the scarf tossed ‘round his neck. “I think I can help with that. Right this was, Sunshine,” he said blithely, as if he wasn’t the aforementioned Trinaeste himself.

A large part of Mr. Syndran’s adamant belief Thieves guild had been involved in the theft rode on Trinaeste’s presence in her scryed vision. “He trusts his lieutenants with the vast majority of their... jobs,” Mr. Syndran had explained, nose wrinkling slightly in distaste. “His being there shows it was a heist of high importance to their gang, fitting the theft of an artefact.”

Xaeryn had no reason to doubt his logic. But she’d be a fool to show all the cards she held at the outset.

“My name is not ‘sunshine’,” she said briskly instead.

“Well, then, doll, what am I calling ya?” Trinaeste asked, unruffled by her tone.

“Miss Shrike will do for now, I think. And what do I call you?”

“Who says you need to call me anything?” he returned as he led her down several new streets in quick succession.

“It might come in handy if I want to commend your hospitality to Mr. Trinaeste,” she countered, trying her best to memorize their route. Left, left, right...

“I’ll get by, Miss Shrike,” Trinaeste said with a light laugh.

He was very good at dodging, she did have to give him that. “For politeness’ sake, then. Perhaps I’d feel better about following you into the depths of Ashtown if I at least knew your name.”

He laughed again, pausing by a wall decorated with a... creative interpretation of a cat’s head. “Well, then. I have a confession to make, in that case.”

“Oh?” Xaeryn marked the two brunos nearby--one down an alley, the other lounging by a door--despite their affected nonchalance. “And what would that be?”

“Chase Trinaeste at your service.” He skipped the exaggerated bow this time, instead shoving his hands in his pockets, elbows akimbo, and grinning at her cheekily. “Now that you’ve found me, what do you plan to do with me?”

“First thing that comes to mind is ask why we couldn’t have the introductions back where we first spoke?”

“Let’s say I feel safer on home turf, doll. Just in case your reason for wanting me is less fun than I’m hoping.”

She glanced significantly at one of the toughs. “And if this arrangement doesn’t thrill me?”

“You can leave,” Trinaeste said with a shrug. “We ain’t going to stop you.” His grin widened, cat-like. “But you seem the type who doesn’t like leaving empty-handed, Miss Shrike.” He gestured toward the door next to one member of their small audience. “Whatever it is you’re after, I think we’ll be more comfortable in my office, don’t you?”

She doubted he cared between the two locations as strongly as she doubted it was an actual office, but Xaeryn did have to admit some privacy for this conversation would be a good thing. “Do I strike you as the type to just follow strange men into unfamiliar buildings, Mr. Trinaeste?”

He laughed. “A dangerous question, doll. You strike strike me as the type who enjoys a good mystery.”

(Or even a bad one, Xaeryn finished wryly to herself.)

Trinaeste raised his hands in a gesture of innocence. “On my honor as head of the guild, I promise you will leave in the same condition and carrying the same things as when you got here, so long as you don’t threaten me or mine.”

“A fair deal,” she said in assent, and nodded toward the door. “After you.”

Red would have a heart attack if he knew what she was doing. She swallowed a laugh at the thought; less than a week reconnected and his reaction was one of the first things to cross her mind. Her gut said it would be a worthwhile risk. While Trinaeste was indisputably a dangerous man, there was a clear sense of ‘only when necessary’ to his skill that gave her confidence she would be fine.

“One more condition,” Trinaeste said as he led the way into the building. “Call me Chase. No idea who ‘Mr. Trinaeste’ is, but he sounds too high-class to be me.”

He’d kowtowed to her chosen address easily enough, and she did want him amenable to talking. She could grin and bear the informality for one conversation. “Very well.”

They didn’t go far from the outer door before Chase swung to the side through another doorway. Xaeryn almost tripped over the abruptness as she followed. There was no desk, or any other typical office furniture save chairs. There were five of those; loosely grouped on one side of the room. Opposite them a stack of shipping crates were shoved against a tapestry-hung wall. It was eclectic and flamboyant and (she’d just bet) full of secrets. A perfect match for the man now flopped in one of the fairly-comfortable looking chairs and grinning at her again.

“So, Miss Shrike, what did you want from me?”

(From the way his eyes twinkled, that phrasing was very much on purpose.)

Xaeryn chose her seat and her reply with equal care; the former so she could see both her host and the door, the latter to convey intent without accusing. Yet. “I’m investigating a theft and have reason to believe you may have seen something helpful.”

Chase laughed. “You think I did it.”

“You do helm the Thieves guild, Chase,” she said lightly, crossing her legs and flicking dust off her hem. So much for trying to be subtle.

“Fair point,” he conceded with another laugh, before leaning forward to brace his elbows on his knees and his chin on his palms with still-twinkling eyes. “So, what is it you think we stole?”

“An artefact.”

She was interrupted before giving a description as Chase’s grin went cat-like gain and the twinkle in his eyes shifted to a hard glitter. “Syndran set you on us, didn’t he? What did he lose?”

“Mr. Syndran didn’t lose anything. Transit is a possibility for when a piece was stolen,” Xaeryn said primly. “And while, yes, he may have pointed me in your direction as an avenue of investigation, I wouldn’t be much of a detective if I followed accusations that lacked supporting evidence.”

“Ah, you’re a private dick,” Chase smirked, eyes once again twinkling in amusement. “Tell you what, Miss Shrike, since you bein’ here is bountiful evidence Riel’s people not only dropped the ball, but bad enough he doesn’t want to involve the cops, I’ll tell you whatever you need to help. That being the best news I’ve had this week and all.”

She arched a brow. “Whatever I need?”

He spread his hands. “I’m an open book, doll.”

“Chase!” a new voice scolded. The owner, a slender brunette, paused in the doorway to scowl along with her critique. “You know better than to offer open season on guild secrets like that!”

“Calm down, Ari.” Chase slouched back, waving one hand in Xaeryn’s direction. “Our guest seems a smart enough dame to not ask for more than she needs.” That glimpse of danger was back under the last word.

“I’m not after your secrets,” Xaeryn promised. “Just trying to find a missing artefact.”

“And what artefact would that be?” Ari asked, still wary, and still poised in the doorway. Xaeryn noted but didn’t comment on the jangling stack of bracelets that sheathed a good three inches of the other woman’s wrist.

“A pendent, this big.” she indicated the size. “Black stone and bronze.”

“Wasn’t us,” Chase said easily.

“You were witnessed along the transport caravan’ route.”

“Oh, we were casing it,” he acknowledged with a wink.

“Chase!”

He just grinned at Ari’s beratement. “We didn’t steal anything, though. Couldn’t get a good shot at what we were supposed to nick.”

“Supposed to?” Xaeryn interjected. “So this is something you were contracted to steal rather than...” She waffled a moment over word choice, “...personal?”

“Yeah. Like I said, though, we didn’t get anything.” Chase shrugged. “Just as well; our butter and egg man never showed his face after.”

“Hm.” Xaeryn made a mental note to look into how popular a target the caravan had become. “Did you notice anyone else who seemed to be casing it? Aside from your people?”

“N-” Chase’s brow furrowed and he stopped mid-negative reply. “There was that one mug Kato saw right before the trucks made the museum lot. Don’t have anything more than ‘foreign-looking’ and green hair, and he didn’t see where he went, just was a little too casual in his loitering, gave Kato an odd impression.”

It wasn’t a lead solid enough for her to really follow, but it did seem confirmation multiple parties were interested in the caravan. “I see. And what was your... client after?”

“That’s not something you need to know,” Ari said firmly.

“Knowing what else was and might yet be targeted will help my investigation, so I would have to disagree,” Xaeryn said just as firmly. “I’m not going to rat you out, in fact I plan to tell Mr. Syndran you were not responsible. But this information could be useful. Please.”

“A necklace. Gold, rubies, opals; sounded worth a pretty lyss,” Chase said, turning to flash a grin at Ari. “She did say please.”

Ari sighed but didn’t protest.

“Alright I’ll be getting out of your hair, then.” Xaeryn stood, smoothing her skirt. “I appreciate your talking to me, It was enlightening.”

She held out a hand to shake, and Chase kissed the back of it instead, shooting her a wink as she rolled her eyes. “Not a problem, Miss Shrike. Good luck catching your bad guys.”

Xaeryn couldn’t help a small chuckle at the comment as she withdrew her hand and headed for the door. She half-expected to be blocked from exiting, but that proved unfounded. She retraced the route to the edge of the Ashtown district, then headed for her office to call Mr. Syndran just as it started to rain.

---

Her call to update Mr. Syndran went about as well as it could; he was disappointed Thieves guild hadn’t panned out as a lead--Xaeryn detected some personal disappointment as well as professional they weren’t responsible. “Do you have anything beyond their word they didn’t do it?”

“No,” Xaeryn said, leaning forward over her desk to skim her notes as they talked. “Well... their word and a gut feeling they were being level.” Which is all I really have that you aren’t responsible. She was polite--and wise--enough to not make the comparison. “They were hardly going to let me search their warehouse.”

“So what’s your next step? There’s not long until the exhibit opens, and I dislike the number of dead ends you’ve encountered.”

“Oh, I’m not happy about them, either, believe me.” Xaeryn pursed her lips and fought to keep a sharp note out of her voice at his implied censure. “Next is talking to the curator at the Hall. They may have seen this green-haired foreigner Thieves guild mentioned, or something else suspicious that didn’t show when I scryed. Either way, I can get more information about the exhibit and the pendent’s owner.”

Mr. Syndran sighed. “I highly doubt this convenient and vague ‘foreigner’ exists as anything other than a red herring to lead you away from the Thieves guild, but your other goals are sound. Let me know what you learn, if anything.”

“Of course.” They exchanged farewells and hung up. Rain still pattered against the window, and a quiet growl from her stomach reminded Xaeryn she was overdue for lunch, so she bumped back calling the Hall in favor of a quick bite to eat.

And it was quick; she loved mysteries but hated being stymied at every turn like this case had done. She wanted a workable lead. While she agreed with Mr. Syndran the ‘foreigner’ was too vague to pursue on his own, green hair was far from common in Haven, even in the Mage community. If someone else made mention or he was spotted later, it wouldn’t be hard to connect the sightings. For now, she’d call the museum, speak to the curator. Hopefully that would get her somewhere.

The secretary who answered her call sounded both bored and frazzled, which Xaeryn found impressive. “Haven Hall of History and Culture, how may I help you?”

“My name’s Xaeryn Shrike, I wanted to speak to the curator about-”

“Ms. Acquell is very busy,” the receptionist cut her off. “We have an exhibit opening in just over a week, she doesn’t have time for meetings with random curiosity seekers or history aficionados right now.”

Xaeryn let a bit of edge color her voice. “I’m a private detective Mr. Syndran hired in regard to the artefact caravan.”

A long pause, the line crackling with silence, then, “Can you be here in half an hour? I’m sure she can clear some space in her schedule, though there may be bit of a wait.”

I thought you might say that. “I can. Thank you.”

“Very well.” The secretary hung up.

Xaeryn arched a brow at the receiver before she placed it back in the cradle. “See you shortly,” she muttered. Wonderful attitude for someone in such a socially involved position. She glanced out the window and was gratified to find the rain slacking off. She’d still drive, of course, but it would be less of a headache.

Xaeryn cleaned up from her lunch, gave her outfit a quick check to ensure it was still presentable after her visit to Ashtown and the Merchants Guild garage, and tucked her notepad back in her handbag before tugging on a hat and heading out the door.

The drive to the museum was uneventful aside from a couple pot holes and a pedestrian chasing his umbrella into the street with nary a regard for traffic. Still, Xaeryn did arrive in one piece. A determined breeze tugged at her as she made her way up the steps, and she almost dropped her handbag in her instinctive grab to hold her hat on.

It’s pinned, you silly goose, she chided herself ruefully, and brushed drizzle off her clothes as she stepped inside. She exchanged a brief conversation--light on pleasantries--with the receptionist,and was waved toward one of the long cultural wings to wait for when Curator Acquell found a moment to speak with her. She perched on a bench that sat between a statue of the first High Augar and a glass case displaying a map of the known world at the time. At this hour and with this weather, there weren’t many other people, and the gallery was mostly quiet.

Ample opportunity for Xaeryn to ruminate on the irony her chosen seat appeared to be smack in the middle of an exhibit on the Castigation, or one of the uprisings that followed. At least, if the painting across from her was anything to go by; a group of determined Norms gripping pistols as they surrounded a cluster of bloodied but unyielding Hunters whose hands glowed with grace as they clung to their weapons...

Xaeryn shook her head and very deliberately focused on reading her notes.

---

It took half an hour--closer to three-quarters--and Xaeryn had switched to roaming the gallery to take in the sights before a short, bespectacled blonde approached.

She hesitated briefly but noticeably before clearing her throat. “Are you... Miss Shrike?”

Xaeryn nodded and held out a hand to shake. “And you would be the curator?”

The blonde bobbed her head as she shook her hand. “Shery Acquell. I’m so very sorry about the wait.” She smoothed a hand down her rumpled brown and pink dress. “We’re terribly busy trying to get the new exhibit together.” She bit her lip. “Or, as together as we can get it, at least.”

“That’s actually what I’m here to talk to you about,” Xaeryn said. “But I think it’s something better discussed away from potential prying eyes and ears.”

“Oh, right, of course.” Miss Acquell briefly clasped her hands in front of her and bit her lip. “This way.” She gestured to a door. “We can speak in the Cultures of Blest wing if you don’t mind dodging crates and museum staff?”

“Not at all,” Xaeryn said as she followed the other woman through the indicated door. Getting to see behind the scenes of a museum exhibit was the opposite of an inconvenience, to her mind.

“It’s not terribly exciting, I’m afraid; lots of boxes and dust and swapping things around until you find the right arrangement. But I think we can find somewhere to talk. My office is a mess right now, or we could just go there.”

“It’s fine,” Xaeryn assured her. “A little dust won’t kill me. I dress practical for that very reason; no telling where an investigation will take me.”

“OH, that’s... smart.” Miss Acquell fiddled with her glasses and inclined her head toward an empty display pedestal. “That’s where the pendent will go, assuming it’s back before the exhibit opens.” Her face went red and she winced apologetically. “N-Not that I doubt your skill as a detective, Miss Shrike, it just seems to have vanished into thin air, and, well....” She half shrugged and let the words trail off.

“I’ve definitely hit enough dead ends for the comparison to be apt,” Xaeryn said, swallowing the spike of defensiveness to keep her tone level as she peeked at the other artefacts in the case. A belt with a snake-head buckle, a silver circlet set with a single moonstone, an ornately carved hair comb, a silver ring that resembled a basilisk eating its own tail. At least one item hummed quietly with magic of some kind, but enchantment and binding weren’t her forte, so Xaeryn couldn’t tell which. “So, to confirm, how long did the shipment sit before you and your staff started opening crates?”

“Oh, an hour?” Miss Acquell bit her lip. “Maybe two, at most? There was a... small kerfuffle in the art wing; some unruly children, and we didn’t get to the crates until that was settled. But there was a watchman outside and one in the museum, neither of them reported seeing anyone.” She played with her necklace. “As well as a Whitestone Couriers representative. Pink-haired young lady, very irate by the time I spoke to her, though that is understandable, with how long we kept her waiting.”

“Did you not have enough staff for someone to take care of the artefacts while others handled the... disturbance?”

“Normally we would have.” Miss Acquell stepped into a small alcove to move their conversation out of the way for the six or so staffers busily yet carefully removing things from crates to arrange in various displays. “But it was a lightly staffed day--Thursdays are usually slow--and I had a couple people who didn’t come in. We weren’t able to find anyone who could cover their shifts, so we were running a bit short.”

With Ms. Aerin keeping an eye on the artefacts once they reached the museum, it was no wonder Mr. Syndran was so convinced a potential theft would have occurred during transit. “What do you know about the pendent, Solimer’s torch? I’ve learn some things of its history, but what of more recent years? The last century or so?”

“A little,” Miss Acquell said, flicking a nervous glance to the side as a pair of workers fumbled the statue they were shifting. “The last century is a bit... muddy for that pendent. It’s changed hands several times, several people have made claims, few have been able to back them up. The current owner, Ms. Aescar, has the strongest claim. She can trace ancestry to the last known owner of the pendent.”

“Prior to the cheiftain of debated identity with whom it was rediscovered?”

She nodded. “Yes. The others who have tried to stake ownership claim ties to the debated chieftain, or the original tribe, or the first to conquer them, but none have ever clearly proven a connection like Ms. Aescar. And if they could, it turns into a debate predicated largely on the intricacies of right of conquest for who has the strongest claim.” She hesitated, wrung her hands. “There are some in the historical community--niche as this piece may be--who... feel it would almost be better if no further claims are validated. I-If someone can contest Ms. Aescar’s ownership, the pendent has to go in a vault until true provenance can be determined. Which means no one can display it....”

“And that process can take a very long time,” Xaeryn finished for her. It was an issue she’d run into a couple times during her years at Solhadur; an artefact she was researching was hard to get clear information about because three people had equally strong claims and it was tied up in the arbitration.

“Yes, it can.” Miss Acquell pursed her lips and looked back at the intended display. “For now, though, Ms. Aescar has a very open policy for lending it out. Far fewer requested protective measures than most. It’s as if...” she paused, brow furrowing for a moment, “as if she doesn’t really care what happens to it.”

Interesting. “Do you have her contact information? I’d like to speak with her if I could,”

“I do.” Miss Acquell nodded vigorously. “It’s in my office, so I’ll need a minute to dig it out.”

“No hurry,” Xaeryn said. “Are those watchmen here today by any chance? Accommodating as your staff has been with my other earlier inquiries, I haven’t gotten to talk to them yet.”

The curator, who had started for a nearby hall, paused and bit her lip again as she thought. “Theo is,” she finally said. “He was watching the outside lot that day. Today I think he’s in the exhibit on Norm innovation? But I can’t remember for sure. The schedule’s also in my office, I can check while I’m getting Ms. Aescar’s information.”

“Alright, I can wait.”

“Feel free to look around.” Miss Acquell waved a hand toward the progressing displays. “Just don’t touch anything? Some things would survive, but others are too fragile.”

“I generally avoid disturbing museum exhibits,” Xaeryn assured her. “I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

With a final nod and small nervous smile, Miss Acquell scurried off down the hall. From the way she’d talked about her office, Xaeryn gathered this might take more than a few minutes. She wandered through the half-assembled exhibits and display cases, careful to keep enough distance she didn’t disturb the staff or risk damaging anything.

A small smile curved her lips when she caught sight of a necklace--complete with matching cuff bracelets and a diadem--that fit the description of what Chase claimed his guild had been hired to steal. That backed his story up, at least. There was a placard declaring they had belonged to a Queen-Consort from Karzai once upon a time.

Xaeryn was engrossed in reading a Kettish tablet when Miss Acquell returned, and it took a moment to register her presence. In fact, it wasn’t until the curator cleared her throat timidly that Xaeryn’s focus was broken and she swung around.

“Sorry. This sort of thing is a passion of mine,” she explained. “Very easy to slip off to my own little world when I get a chance to indulge.”

“I understand,” Miss Acquell said with a faint smile. “I can be the same, when I get lost in my work. Here’s Ms. Aescar’s information” --she held out a small piece of note paper--”though I should warn you it’s for her estate out near the Jalis desert and she’s apparently not home much? Bit of an adventuress, away for weeks at a time without word of how long she’ll be gone. I’m honestly not sure if we’ve managed to contact her yet to tell her the pendent’s missing.”

“Thanks for the warning, both of them.” Xaeryn slipped the paper in her handbag after checking the legibility. “I’ll keep them in mind.”

“Theo is up in the innovations exhibit, if you want to speak with him.”

“Oh, I very much do. And if something comes up and I need to talk to you again, do you have daily office hours?”

Miss Acquell nodded, then blushed. “Oh, except... except Sunday,” she amended. “I-I have church.”

“Won’t be a problem, so do I.” Normally not a detail Xaeryn shared with strangers, but the woman seemed braced for blowback to the statement.

Her face lit up with the revelation, so it was apparently a good call. “Oh, really? Where do you go?”

“The Whitestone Cathedral,” Xaeryn said. She liked the crowds, the ability to simply sit in the back, worship, and slip out before too many people even noticed she was there and tried to be chummy.

“Oh, that one’s too big for me,” Miss Acquell blurted with a bashful laugh. “I go to the chapel over by the docks.”

“I know it,” Xaeryn said with a nod. She’d had a couple cases over that way. “Thank you very much for all your help, Miss Acquell. This visit has been very informative.”

“I’m glad to have been of help, and you can just call me Shery.” She held out a hand to shake farewell.

“Goodbye, then, Shery. And good luck setting up your exhibit.” Xaeryn shook her hand then headed off following signage toward the exhibit where this guard Theo was posted. She had some rather burning questions to ask him.

---

Her conversation with Theo held mixed success. His memory was fuzzy, which Xaeryn had expected after the time that had passed. He did remember some loiterers, but they were all far enough away from the lot he couldn’t discern features. One or two may have come across as “too casual” with hindsight, but he hadn’t clocked them as suspicious and thus hadn’t paid much mind in the moment. No accounting for street hooligans and how they spent their time, right? One might have had green hair, but they were wearing hats, and “like I said, I wasn’t payin’ much heed, Miss Lady Detective,” so he couldn’t swear by it.

With that tenuous connection possibly made slightly less tenuous, and a much-increased desire to speak with the elusive Ms. Aescar, Xaeryn wandered the museum a bit--might as well; she was here and it would help her think--before heading back out to her car.

“Ladies first,” a dark haired gentleman said, holding the front door open for her and allowing her to precede him down the steps.

Xaeryn nodded and flashed a brief smile of courteous thanks for his chivalry, noting he headed for a gleaming, high-end motorcar, black with red accents, that made hers look dingy. Bet it’s a nightmare to keep that fancy, she thought, paying the man no further mind. She started her car and flicked on the headlights to counter the settling dim of evening as she pulled away.

With her thoughts split between the road and mulling over the case, it took a few turns for her to notice a pair of headlights that appeared to be following the same route she was. That wasn’t terribly unusual, but the fact they were deliberately keeping back was. Tricky as surreptitious glances in a motorcar could be, Xaeryn managed one the next time she had to stop for traffic. Just as her... friend passed under a streetlight.

Black car, with red accents.

Gooseflesh prickled up her arms, and she shifted her planned route home to one with sparse enough traffic covert pursuit would be impossible. Two turns into the new path, her tail must have picked up on her plan and lammed off down a side street. Xaeryn wondered if he thought he was being subtle, and kept a careful eye out the rest of the way back. Despite not seeing any further tails, she remained on guard until she turned the key in her office door, slipped in, and locked it behind her.

“Intriguing development,” she murmured to the empty room as she unpinned her hat. And an interesting end to a very full day. Xaeryn sat wearily at her desk and kicked off her shoes. Even choosing comfort over style, her feet were sore from all the walking. Merchants’ Guild, Ashtown, the Hall... and barely a chance to sit all day. She returned her notepad to the desk drawer and locked it again, but left the stiletto blade in her handbag. She’d likely need it tomorrow anyway. Particularly if it was anywhere near as busy as today.

Busy enough to have missed any telephone calls that came while I was gadding about. Normally while already on a case, that would bother her less, but Red had said he’d call if he learned anything new. She’d hate to be missing information that could help the case, she mused, flicking a glance from the telephone to the clock on her wall. Hopefully this wasn’t too late for her to call him. She dug her notepad back out and flipped through the pages until she reached the section in Red’s sprawling shorthand. There, on the back of a previous page, tucked in the corner like a random doodle, was his office telephone number. Xaeryn smiled at the close resemblance of his eights and zeroes, but knew her own ones and sevens weren’t much better.

After only a brief moment of further hesitation, she pulled the telephone closer and started dialing. It wasn’t that late.

It was answered on the third ring, a slightly breathless, “Hello?”

“Liefred?”

“Xaeryn.” There was a note of surprise in his voice.

“Got it in one, smart man.” But I knew that.

He laughed. “Not that hard; you’re just about the only one who insists on calling me that, even if you don’t need to.” There was a small creak that conjured mental images of him leaning against the desk or slouched in his chair. “Everything alright? Did you need something?”

“Other way ‘round, actually.” Xaeryn fiddled with her notepad. “I’ve had a busy day and it occurred I wasn’t here much if you’d called, so I thought I’d check.”

“There are these people called secretaries, Xaeryn,” Red teased. “You might look into hiring one of them.”

“I know, I know.” She snorted softly. “Especially since most people don’t have your genial reaction to me missing their calls...”

“Most people haven’t known you since you were a gangly fourteen year old trying to cram yourself in the library loft to read in peace, either,” he said warmly. “I know how focused you get. And nothing new, I’m afraid. I got stuck lecturing first-years all day.”

“And you survived,” Xaeryn laughed, curling her toes in and out when they started to cramp.

“Barely,” Red said with a rueful laugh(she’d bet he was running a hand through his hair). “And that despite their best efforts.”

“See, this is why I didn’t want to stick around,” she said, only half-joking.

“Smart woman,” he deadpanned. “But I knew that already.”

Flatterer. It sounded coy and thus stayed in her head, replaced with an equally joking, “I won’t guest lecture, before you ask.”

“Damn,” he said lightly, “At any rate, I’m sorry I don’t have more yet-”

“Don’t apologize,” she cut him off. “I wasn’t expecting anything. Only checking. Just in case. Your responsibilities come first and they kept you busy today. I had plenty of other leads to chase today.”

“Where did they take you?” Red asked. “You mentioned being busy...”

“Merchants’ Guild to start. Then Ashtown-”

“Xaeryn.” His voice was already bristling worry.

“--to talk to Thieves’ guild.”

“Alone?! Ryn-” Red huffed a sigh of exasperated, retroactive concern and she bit back a laugh at how well she’d pegged his reaction. “Do you... take risks like that often?”

“Only when I need to,” she said carefully. Wouldn’t be mentioning the tail on her way home, then. “I know how to handle myself, Liefred. I was polite, we talked, I left. It was fine.”

A long moment of silence. “If you say so.” He didn’t sound completely convinced. (She decided not to tell him her office-apartment sat right by the boundary between Astown and Smoketown) “What else?”

“Just the Hall of History and Culture to speak with the curator.” She shifted in her chair. “That one took a while, but I got some good information to follow up tomorrow.”

“Best of luck with that, and... be careful?”

Xaeryn smiled fondly, unsure whether or not to hope it carried into her voice. “As I can be.” A beat, then she added lightly, “I’d hate to wind up a cautionary tale in one of your lectures, Headmaster.”

“Xaeryn.” She could practically see him trying to glower at her(and failing; Red couldn’t be that mean) through the telephone. “I’m serious.”

“I know.” And I appreciate it. She sobered her tone to match his. “But my line of work comes with risks sometimes.The best I can do is promise not to exacerbate them.”

“I’ll take it,” Red said softly, then was quiet a long moment. “I should let you go; it sounds like you have another busy day tomorrow?”

“I do.” She’d still stay up til midnight talking to him in a heartbeat, but, “and you probably need to recover from this one.”

“Mm. I get to do it again tomorrow, too,” he said glibly.

Xaeryn laughed. “I’ll keep you in my thoughts,” she said with mock solemnity “Good luck to you, as well, in that case.”

“Thank you, I’ll need it,” Red chuckled softly. “Goodnight, Xaeryn.”

“Goodnight, Liefred.”

She stared at the telephone a long moment after hanging up, smile curling her lips, before pushing out of the chair. After a day like this, she needed dinner, a hot bath, and a good night’s sleep. In that order.

She still double checked the door was locked before turning in.

----

(what you don’t see, bc I stuck with Ryn POV, is Pan was in Red’s office with him when she called. :3 Cue Pan promptly batting his eyelashes, making exaggerated lovestruck faces, and generally being a little shit bc He Knows, while Red’s gesturing for Pan to GET OUT of his office. and trying to get him to listen without actually talking so Ryn doesn’t know someone’s there(he doesn’t know why he doesn’t want her knowing that, he just doesn’t). Pan finally relents but hangs in the hallway til they’re done and comes back in with the biggest shit-eating grin “You’re still stuck on her, aren’t you?” Red, groaning and burying his face in his hands: “Pan, close your head, PLEASE. yes”)

#queens fic #shoh #xaeryn shrike #red antiqua #chase trinaeste #shery acquell #tlbt #ryn/red

24 notes · View notes

gale-gentlepenguin · 3 years

Text

ML Analysis: Alya Cesaire: Best friend or Plot Puppet?

Thank you to @cakercanart for commissioning this analysis.

For this we will be discussing Alya Cesaire

This is a LONG POST, so I am posting a read more. I would love to hear your thoughts on this analysis. Do you agree? Do you disagree? Did you want to include something? Let me know.

I think in order to organize this post I will be splitting it up as follows.

How to write a best friend.

Alya Cesaire the Best Friend

Alya Cesaire the Plot device

Canon vs Salt

Final thoughts

So lets get to it

_______________________________________________________________________

How to write a best friend.

In fiction, the best friend is best known as the main characters's closest non-romantic associate and confidante in the story. This role is very important when the show, book, game or other type of media needs a character to help express the main character’s motives and actions. Now writing a best friend always ends up coming off as trope heavy and this makes a character come off as less real and more of as a plot device. For a best friend character to be a good best friend character they must follow 3 important rules. First, they must have their own rules. Second, Give and Take, friendship is a two way street. Lastly, they must be more than just the company they keep.

The Best friend must have their own rules. Now this is important because you need to establish what this character values. What does this character think is most important? Do they believe Loyalty is more important than honesty? Do they think stealing is wrong under all circumstances? It is important that we as a viewer understand what makes the best friend tick, we need to already have an idea of where they are going to go with something before the main character goes to talk to them. In a way, they. are more rigid than the main character, since we spend less time with them, we need to have their character more realized than the main character. Now this does not mean a character can't change over time, but there needs to be a solid reason on WHY the character’s opinion on something flipped, it needs to be something clear, like having them learn a lesson on screen. Think of the Best friend’s rules as Pillar in solid ground, they need to be strong and apparent so the Main character knows what side they are standing on in a situation.

Friendship is a two-way street. This is something that needs to be apparent in the relationship between the best friend and the main character. Do they spend time together, are they able to hold conversations outside of the main character’s problem of the day? What has the main character done for them lately? Does the MC value their friendship? Are there rough patches? The relationship itself is important to the dynamic as the best friend, and really is it a friendship if only one person benefits?

The Best friend character needs to be more then just the best friend character to the protagonist. The BFF needs to have a life outside of that bubble, like real people, they need to have other priorities at times, but they will do what they can to help. If this character suddenly stopped being friends with main Protagonist, will this character be able to develop outside of that. They need to be something a kin to a friend you could have in real life. Do you know someone that could match this person? Do you feel that they could exist?

These 3 are the main guidelines in writing convincing best friends and are crucial in establishing the best friend as something more then just ‘Plot device number 1. This criteria will be what we use as a gauge to measure Alya Cesaire. Now we move to the next section.

____________________________________________________________________

Alya Cesaire the Best Friend

Alya Cesaire is the canonical best friend of Marinette Dupain Cheng. She is also the person that runs the Ladyblog, the source for all things Ladybug related. She is a headstrong, confident, can do gal that will do anything to get the scoop. She is Loyal and wants what’s best for her BFF. But the question is, based on the characteristics, how does Alya fair?

The best friend has their own rules. Alya cesaire believes in loyalty, good triumphing over evil, and the truth. As a fan of super heroes it would make sense that she would have a more paragon approach towards things. In that regard, Alya is rigid, but she is willing to bend the rules if it helps her get the truth. To be honest, Alya is a loyal friend, does seek the truth, and believes good should always triumph over evil, but the problem is that she is not consistent on what she values more. Depending on the episode’s need, Alya would be gunho, loyal BFF to the max, like in Befana, Startrain, Origins, but then other times, she puts having evidence and truth over her own best friend’s take, Like in Chameleon, Oni-chan, and Volpina. Its a bit of a mixed bag with her, though I do say that her loyalty and support of Marinette is more of her more common traits. But this constant shift on what she values more is concerning.

Friendship is a two way street. This is where I find Alya does shine brightest. Her relationship with Marinette is very consistent. The two hang out, talk, and enjoy each other’s company. Both have helped the other when needed, and they take time to listen to each other. Sapotis, Stormy weather and Ladybug are the best examples. I will say that Marinette and Alya do not have a one note friendship, Marinette and Alya do talk about things outside of Marionette’s relationship status, Alya and Marinette do debate about things, even going so far as to even tease and joke with the other. In terms of friendship being a two way street, Alya and Marinette have a pretty good friendship going.

Alya as her own character is a bit more solid then one would anticipate based on all the salt surrounding her. She does have a strong character, she has her own relationships, her own actions outside of Marinette. She does have a boyfriend, does have hobbies that don't always involve Marinette. Alya is more then willing to put her needs into view. She has a unique dynamic with her family, she has a developing relationship with her boy friend. She even is friendly to someone Marinette is not the biggest fan of, and still maintains her friendship with Marinette in spite of it. Alya could exist without being Marinette’s Best friend, but it is good that they are friends.

Overall, Alya has a very good dynamic with Marinette and has her own character outside of that friendship, her main flaw is that with inconsistent writing her standing as ‘The pillar’ is not very effective, she can appear to be at the whim of the writers at times because of this inconsistency. But to determine if she is really more Plot device then Person, we head to the next section

_____________________________________________________________________

Alya Cesaire the Plot device

The Concept of a Plot device is simply a literary device (a character, an outside force, etc) that helps move the plot along in some way shape or form. The problem with Best friend character’s is that if they aren't the ones with the super powers, they are often put into the position of being the plot progression button in one of two tropes, the Plot voucher or the Quest giver. The plot voucher is the character that gives the lesson or solution early on and tells the MC that they should do something and often its what the character needs to do in order to solve the problem. Think Chekov’s gun. The Quest giver is the character that states what the character needs to do, often propelling the character into the situation. whether intentionally or not. Alya cesaire is often criticized as being a plot device since she is often the one pushing marinette to do things. Now to be fair, characters in the show can still be their own character while being used as a plot device, but the problem occurs when Plot is prioritized over the character. In order to judge if a character is more of a plot device, I have come up with 3 solid criteria. In order for a character to be more plot device than character they must achieve all three of the following, contradict their own morals on more than one occasion, Formulaic role writing, and P.R.E.G.O. These three criteria are crucial in judging one’s character.

To start off, contradictions in character. What this means is that the plot of an episode will do something that will make a character do something that would go against the core attributes of a character without explanation. Like having a vegetarian character eating meat. Now there are times when writers make a mistake and if it happens once then it is more like a mistake and not a constant trend. An example of Alya having a contradiction in character would be in Chameleon. (This is where a lot of the salt started so this is understandable), where Alya tells Marinette that she would need proof on her accusations. Now this is a case where additional dialogue would have made this NOT a contradiction. If Alya showed self awareness, like if she said, “I have learned my lesson about making accusations without solid proof.” That would have probably been fine and also a good moment of character development. But the expression (without that addition) comes off without context. Alya does show another moment of hypocrisy in Oni-chan, when she tells Marinette to ignore Lila when she was talking with Adrien, but at the end of the episode then questions why Marinette isn't spying on them. Now in the context of the episode, its to show how Marinette learns a lesson, but in this case (which I find as MORE egregious than Chameleon) this makes Alya look like a massive hypocrite. There are a few other times in season 3 where Alya has shown a few bits of hypocrisy which makes me say that Alya has matched this first criteria.

Formulaic role writing is a criteria that is less on the character of Alya, but on the show’s treatment of Alya. So to explain Formulaic role writing is where a character is put in a show to always do a specific thing for a character or for the plot. This is very common in episodic shows, like how in the original Power rangers, Zordon is the one that calls the rangers to fight a monster, he is basically the ‘Alert system’. In Alya’s case she is often regulated to 2 specific parts, Wingwoman and Lore finder. In her role as wing woman, she is basically trying to help Marinette out with Adrien, in whatever way she can. This results in plot progression and getting Marinette from point A to Point B. The second role is Lore finder, she is the one that goes searching to find out stuff regarding the heroes, because its for her blog. Now Alya has shown times when she is not in either of these roles, such as in Anaisi, heroes day, Stormy weather 2.0, Timetagger, just to name a few. It has Alya living her own life and existing outside of these roles. This helps because these examples are not in the character contradictions category, which helps us evaluate that Alya does not completely conform to this trait.

The final criteria is P.R.E.G,O or better known as Plot Relevant Exposition Given Only. What this means is that a character is only given lines that help further the plot, character development of the MC, help solve a problem, or cause a problem. P.R.E.G.O is the epitome of finding out how one-dimensional a character is. If you can fit all of the dialogue into a category covered in P.R.E.G.O, then it is simple to determine if a character is simply a plot device for the author’s to utilize. To put it simply Alya does break out of the P.R.E.G.O model as she does develop as her own character and has moments where she is doing her own thing. Both in canon, and on the Instagram. Alya has a boyfriend, a strong relationship with her sisters, her own goals and hobbies, and even her own insecurities. Alya as a character, while not correctly utilized is not fitting of this criteria.

Overall, Alya is more then simply a plot device, but she has been used on occasion to further the plot in ways that would contradict her character. The writing for her can be vastly improved and while she does have her flaws, should not be dismissed as simply a mouth piece for the shows plot.

_______________________________________________________________________

Canon vs Salt

Alya cesaire is often found to be one of the few characters (ever since season 3) to be heavily criticized and bashed by a chunk of the fandom. Now with how the fandom reacted to her, I was curious on what brought such unfettered hate onto her. It was sort of surprising to see how far the fandom went with not liking her. So after careful analysis, I managed to isolate the two main reasons on why she is so polarizing to the fandom. These reasons are, poor Writing and projection.

The writing on Alya has been inconsistent at times and in early season 3, with episodes such as Chameleon, Oni-chan, Oblivio, and Reflekdoll. The salt for her really started to rise. The most common assertion by the salters is that Alya is completely inattentive to other people’s needs and will prioritize her own desires above all else. Like in Oblivio, when Alya posted the photo of Ladybug and Chat noir kissing when Ladybug stormed off after seeing it. Now in the context, it seems rude, and it kind of is. Sure Ladybug didn't tell Alya not to put it on the blog, and she wasn't even mad at alya who took the photo, so the argument could be that alya would have not posted it if Ladybug told her not to. But it is still something alya should have asked before posting. Not that all journalists and reporters ask for permission before posting things, its common curtousy. So in this regard, criticism towards Alya is warranted if one wants discuss terms of improvement. However, in alya salt, she is often depicted as someone that would throw marinette under the bus and dismiss her, that is something Alya has yet to do and would likely never do. Alya has disagreed with marinette at times, but she has never (while in control) insulted or dismissed her friend. The salt/bashing of Alya’s character in that regard is inaccurate and is not warranted.

Projection is the action of placing issues onto another that are not applicable to one’s character. This is where all of the bashing of Alya’s character comes from. Alya is often projected as being one of Lila’s main enablers and the one that makes marinette feel awful. Alya is often portrayed as one of the worst people in salty au’s because she is the one closest to marinette. Her ‘Betrayal’ makes the pain Marinette feels much worse. Alya is being used by salters to place their own issues of broken friendships from the past onto her. From the few au’s and fics I have read with Alya salt, the betrayal that alya often does seems far more personal when described, as if the author was pulling from personal experience. Alya, according to the salt community, has become the perfect character to project the agony of betrayal because of the massive salt that has been piled on from chameleon onward.

In conclusion, Alya is critiqued because of poor writing from the show, and is bashed because of fan projection. Alya is a character with faults and suffers from poor writing but she is not deserving of the unabashed hatred she has received.

_______________________________________________________________________

Final Thoughts

Alya Cesaire is a character that could use some better writing and could use some better establishment on her traits, but she is still good on her own merits and I conclude that she is more than a tool of the plot, she is a multifaceted character that will hopefully improve in season 4.

#ML analysis #miraculous ladybug #Alya cesaire #Alya critique #ml salt #ml fandom salt #alya salt

139 notes · View notes

imdefyingmavity · 3 years

Text

Little Blue Eyes

A brief follow-up to this. Eleanor visits Michael during his reforming.

She had to hand it to Jason. If anyone had told her that it was possible to break a Janet out of Hell and get her away from an army of demons using just a Molotov, a single demon exploder gun, and a bag of weed, she’d have been very sceptical. But somehow he managed to bring their not-a-girl home, riding back in that hand-cart, grinning away as if he’d gone to a Jaguars game with her.

That was one problem dealt with. Now only a billion others to sort out.

As overjoyed as she’d been to see Janet back, safe and sound, she hadn’t been looking forward to reliving the most awful night of the year by explaining to her why their tall, dandy dressed demon wasn’t at her side, or hadn’t gone to save her.

It was easier to hand her the note that Michael had wrote (or possibly snapped into being after she slammed the door as she was sure even he couldn’t write that fast) before he’d pulled the trigger on himself.

I’m sorry.

I don’t want you to be worrying about how I might betray you or let you down again. If I’m locked up, you’re just going to worry that I’ve escaped. Just leave me in a tank on the other side of the map, or in Janet’s void if you bring her back, or just leave me in the Bad Place. If anything I just wanna ask that you make sure I’m all in there as I’d rather not come back shorter. Also if you can make sure no dogs are around to lap me up, I’d appreciate it.

I only ever wanted to save you all. I’m sorry I did nothing but screw up. I understand if you don’t want me back in the group after I’m back to normal. Please just get Janet back safe, even if it does mean going to the Judge. And give my best to Chidi when he wakes up.

I wasn’t lying about one thing; I really do love you all so much. I’m sorry it could never be enough.

Michael.

Reading the goo-stained letter with shaking hands, she’d struggled not to burst into tears of anger or throw up. Standing in the middle of the empty room, her friend dripping all around her, she’d wanted to scream at him for this being his best attempt to make things up to her - to forking leave her! To take the cowards way out.

Being angry was so much easier than accepting the guilt of what she had said to him before that moment. Of questioning if she had gone too far...if she’d just taken a moment to listen to him...Usually the dude had trouble shutting the fork up but that night, all he’d done is stand there and take everything she threw at him...until there was nothing left standing. Literally.

If she’d had any idea he would do something so reckless and stupid then of course she would never have said...

But you did know. You knew exactly what he was prepared to do to help you, if it’s what you said you needed. What you wanted.

She never wanted this, she admits to herself, barely a couple months later.

Running this experiment basically single-handed was...not overly difficult. In fact, she was pretty confident in saying they were doing okay, considering the circumstances.

But it still sucked. She was alone. Again.

Obviously there was no way she was going to have Michael’s goo abandoned in some random, isolated location. She was mad at the guy but she wasn’t a monster...so she told herself. At the same time, she couldn’t give up the role he’d thrusted upon her by suddenly taking up the role of nurse-maid, as hot as she might have looked in the uniform. He’d chosen to do this so she could work without distractions. Without a liability.

“He sacrificed himself to save me. We’re on our own now. Let’s make it count.”

Just get the fork on with things, same as before. No point in looking back.

Tahani is the one who volunteers. She’s able to separate herself from the other humans without causing too much suspicion, claiming the need for a private getaway up in the hills, deep in the valley, a hidden fancy lodge by a stream, surrounded by peaceful deer and mountains. Definitely not Eleanor’s scene, anything involving the wilderness or even resembling camping.

By the time Eleanor sees her off on a private car Derek conjured up, Michael’s goo already reached its first form. The blind, helpless demon larva showed no signs of awareness of his surroundings, curling up as small as possible, malleable as Tahani swaddled him in her fluffiest blanket. Eleanor was almost impressed at how quickly the sexy giraffe had overcome being grossed out at the slimy, squidgy creature, able to look almost maternal as she carried him into the car. And she made sure to say as much.

Tahani’s heavy hearted response would stick with Eleanor for the next few weeks; “I didn’t reassure him when he asked us if we could ever be friends with a gross monster. Best I can do is show him how much we truly care.”

Ouch. Way to kick her in the girl-nads.

“You sure you’ll be okay?”

“I’ve helped out in multiple animal sanctuaries and used to fly out to work with deprived children with my dear friend Angelina...But this is definitely new territory for me.” She’d said as she looked over the larva demon, making the tiniest cooing noise in his sleep (or what they assumed was sleep). “I’ll try my best.”

That was all any of them could do. She’d contemplated attempting to speak to the larva Michael in her arms. What could she possibly say? Could he even understand her?

She was still angry. And yet it was difficult to connect the anger towards the one who abandoned her to the pathetic looking being in the blanket. Best to save all those harsh words on the tip of her tongue for when he was back to being tall and slappable.

Is he really the one you want to slap?

The question comes back to haunt her more frequently each night that follows, whenever she thinks back on that night, or wonders how the two of them are doing. She and Tahani send letters often via the birds who are happy to act as messengers. They just have to be careful none of the humans intercept them. She lets her gorgeous friend know how the experiment is going and Tahani offers her tips on how to improve John, in particular. Every time she goes to write ‘how is Michael?’ she erases it, chest tightening. Tahani tells her anything important.

The slug monster form that follows the larva is a lot more challenging, she reports. He’s now the size of a Tibetan huskie and just as hungry.

I just let him roam the fields and eat what he can find. Sometimes I have to pull him in on a leash if he doesn’t tire himself out, otherwise I worry he’ll slither off in the night. I try to talk to him but he just grunts or roars at me until I tell him off. I was a little worried he might try to eat me but I found playing music - 80′s classics, mostly - calms him down and makes him rather docile. I don’t think he knows quite who I am or remembers anything. Perhaps it’s like when Janet is rebooted? He may need time to restore his memories, as she did.

Oh, darn, I must finish - he’s in the rose bush again!

Sometimes the image of her prim socialite friend trying to restrain a two-hundred-pound slug monster is so hilarious she can’t help but laugh. Other times she feels more guilt tugging at her soul to go lend a hand.

Is Michael really little more than an animal, in his head, right now? She’s hardly proved herself the best at pet care, though it sounded like Michael overeating was the least of their worries. It pained her to imagine what his head must be going through right now. Is he scared? Confused? Lost? Does he have any emotions other than the instinct to feed?

Does he still blame himself? Does he miss her as much as she...?

The more she sits in that chair in the office, the smaller she feels. It doesn’t belong to her; she’s merely filling it in while he’s gone. She has lunch in silence, remembering the jokes they used to share, the games of trying to aim food in the others mouth across the desk. She remembers him snapping a margarita for her when he knew she needed it most. She remembers his hand on her shoulder. She remembers him finding her at her lowest point, when everyone else had doubted her, turned their backs.

She remembers him, always there. And now she’s lost him.

Was wanting him gone over a stupid lie really worth all of this?

When Jason returns with Janet, on the same day she’s hesitating whether to jump on the nearest unicorn and head towards the mountains, she takes it as a sign. She has no excuse to stay away now - not with Janet back to watch over things, though she’ll probably be paying Michael a visit soon too.

She rides up on the train Janet conjures for her, saving her from trying to figure out how to ride a unicorn without breaking her neck. Something tells her she might have more luck at taming a slug monster than her British friend, not that she has any experience, just a few encounters with the grosser men in Arizona. Besides, it was Michael, at the end of the day. Their Michael.

The same Michael willing to sacrifice himself to help a bunch of cockroaches.

It’s such an idyllic landscape she arrives at. A total holiday card photo, without the snow. Nothing but grass and trees for miles before a backdrop of purple mountains. She looks around, seeing the evidence of devoured flower gardens and broken fences. At least the solid, oak cabin by the stream stood in tact, smoke billowing from the chimney.

Eleanor is so focused on keeping her eyes peeled for a rampaging slug monster that she almost fails to spot the little person sat on the front step of the veranda.

She frowns. That has to be the whitest child she’s ever laid eyes on. Granted most kids growing up in Phoenix were smothered in fake tan before they were three by their moms, but this is something else. The kid has long white hair, half-plaited, down to the shoulders of the cream dress she’s wearing. Her skin is so pale it’s nearly translucent. Fork, is she looking at an actual ghost?

Wait...She’s a ghost. That really shouldn’t freak her out.

There’s just something so eerie about the little girl, from her sickly appearance to how weirdly quiet she is for...However old she is. Six? Seven? Thirteen? Eleanor really knows nothing about kids, just that they’re usually much louder than this one, sat alone, playing with a set of shining...

Oh.

“Michael?”

The kid looks away from the chain of a paperclips they were linking, gazing up at Eleanor on the gravel path. As soon as she sees their eyes, she has her answer. Even without a pair of glasses, she’d recognise those sparkling blue eyes anywhere. It’s only then that she remembers the third form.

Spooky little girl.

Though far less spooky than she imagined. More...sad.

Despite her surprise, she tries to smile, not knowing how badly she needed to see those eyes look at her again after this past month.

“Hey, buddy. How’re you feeling?” She starts to approach.

The kid drops the paperclips and jumps up to their feet, beginning to tremble terribly, eyes wide as saucers.

Eleanor stops. Is he afraid? Of her?

“Michael? D’you remember me? It’s Eleanor, dude..”

“‘Hani!” The child cries turning and running inside the cabin. Fork, she knew was bad with kids, but shirt! Eleanor rushes in to follow, unable to hold back.

She enters the cosily furnished cabin to see the pale girl run up to the leg of the six foot beauty standing at the stove and cling to her skirt for dear life.

Tahani looks over from the pot of spaghetti, face fearful at first before lighting up when she spots her friend stood in the foyer.

“Eleanor! What a lovely surprise.” She beams, turning the stove off; “I’m so glad you decided to visit.”

“Wow...You’re kinda rocking the whole rustic single mom look here, babe.” Eleanor says, looking around the place, everything making her feel so warm and comforted from the open fireplace to the heavy air of recently baked bread.

Tahani looks down to her charge hanging onto her dress, reaching down to pick the little fingers off carefully.

“Well, it was rather nice to have a project to myself, and Derek was surprisingly helpful. Everything else I acquired myself, having learned to survive in the wild from a well known ‘Bear’ friend of mine.” She holds the kid’s hands and bends down to their eye level; “Michael, sweetheart, look who’s come to visit. Remember Eleanor?”

The demon child whimpers, throwing their arms around Tahani’s neck and hiding in her luscious dark hair.

Eleanor bites her lip; “He’s a lot more shy than the slug monster, I take it.”

“Oh, I don’t understand. They were fine with Jason this morning, they were playing video games for hours - he and Janet teleported over briefly to check in on us. So glad they got back safe.”

So Jason gets a teleport but she takes the train? The first time she’s not an immortal being’s favorite to spoil.

Eleanor shuffles her feet, trying not to feel wounded at how terrified her friend currently is of her, when apparently there was no issue with Jason. But then, Jason makes it difficult for anyone to dislike him. Eleanor makes it an open invitation.

The kid whispers something to Tahani that causes the woman to pick them up.

“Oh, darling, don’t be silly.” She responds, rubbing their back; “That was just a nightmare.”

“Nightmare?” Eleanor asks. Is she the stuff of nightmares?

Tahani eventually convinces the pale kid to go back outside to continue playing while she catches up with Eleanor.

Questions Tahani has about the experiment and the subjects get quickly brushed aside. Eleanor is unable to focus on anything but the image of Michael’s eyes looking at her with so much fear. When Tahani hands her a fresh cup of cofffee, she wants to stick her hand in it, just to scold herself for the sake of it.

“He’s having nightmares? I mean...she’s having...” Eleanor frowns.

“I find it easier to use ‘they/them’, which Michael seems to prefer as well, currently.” Tahani explains; “Most of the time, they’re a calm, affectionate child. Such a welcome change from the beast I was putting up with a fortnight ago, as much as they grew on me. It’s just at night, while their brain is still reforming and all these memories are flooding back...It can be rather distressing. Trust me, it’s heart-breaking just to see them crying and screaming...”

She can’t imagine that recalling centuries of brutally torturing innocents along with the knowledge of why that was wrong is easy for anyone, least of all in the form of a small girl, creepy or not.

“Honestly, the creepiest I’ve encountered so far is them levitating at the end of my bed - and that’s usually when they’re just looking for a cuddle.”

Eleanor smiles a little, Michael never was the best at being a truly ‘frightening’ demon.

“And I’m in these nightmares?”

Tahani sighs; “I suppose the memories of their last night are mixed up with everything else. They just...were worried you were here to say something mean or...you wanted them gone.”

Fork-sake.

“I never wanted this, Tahani. I never wanted him to...Shirt, I didn’t even think he could, but...” She struggles to hold back tears; “I shouldn’t have come. I’ve just made him...Them more upset. Fork knows what I’d be in for if I stayed for the Teenage Boy phase. He’d probably set my hair on fire as payback.”

Bratty Michael in his fully grown form had been enough to handle. A hormonal one with amnesia was a whole other level.

“Eleanor. Just go talk to them.” Tahani presses; “This whole distancing thing you two are doing to deal with your falling out is dangerous. You’re not going to fix anything by staying away from them. As I kept telling my good friend Courtney when she had a row with my other friends, Lisa and Jennifer - you just need to communicate!”

“Babe, they’re afraid to even be alone with me.” She’s the monster under the bed now. All because she took one sin he committed to heart and forgot about all the good he’d done for her that outweighed it.

“Then stay, there’s plenty of room. Even if it means we swap and you stay here and I return to help with the experiment. Either way, this needs to be sorted out. I don’t believe demons are supposed to be this upset during their growth...You could help with that.”

Can she? She’s not the nurturing type, like her hot friend. She melted her own doll in the microwave as a kid. And she unwittingly talked her own demon bestie into exploding himself.

Tahani’s hand squeezing her wrist gives her some strength.

“...Okay. I’ll try.” she meets her eyes; “Is Michael the only one allowed to snuggle in bed with you when they’re scared?”

Ten minutes later, she goes to find the creepy girl outside, this time sat among the flowers, being far more gentle with them than her previous slug form was.

Eleanor approaches slowly.

“Michael? Buddy?”

The kid gasps, standing up again and flinching back. Eleanor raises her palm.

“Please don’t run away. I promise I won’t hurt you...and I won’t be mad.” She says, soft as she can manage, getting down to the ground; “And I’m not gonna make you go away anywhere. I just wanna chat...That ok?”

Michael doesn’t look too convinced, glancing over at the cabin. Looking for the one constant they’ve had, who’s been here for them, caring for them. Where Eleanor should have been, at least sometimes.

Okay. Time for the trump card.

“I got you something. Tahani said you have trouble sleeping. I thought maybe this guy could help?” She produces the minion toy from behind her back.

Michael’s eyes sparkle and he instantly reaches out to take it.

“So ugly!” They cheer, hugging it to their front.

Eleanor chuckles. Still so easily impressed.

“Can’t argue there...Also, I picked up those paperclips of yours. Did you know you can do this with them?” She holds up the chain; “Gimmie your wrist a minute.”

Michael frowns, hiding behind the toy a little.

“I won’t bite, dude. Kids are way too gross to eat. You’re too stringy and bony.” She wrinkles her nose.

They blink at her before slowly holding out their wrist. Eleanor takes the paperclips and links them around Michael’s arm, forming a bracelet.

The child gasps, clearly thinking they’ve seen it for the first time; “Holy motherforking shirtballs.”

“Damn, you kiss Tahani with that mouth?” That must have been another residue memory tucked away.

Michael sneers; “Kissing is gross.”

“It’s pretty weird if you think about it, yeah.” She concedes, glad they’re at least talking, as much conversation as she can have with a billion year old immortal that’s lost their mind as they regrow in the body of a haunting little girl; “...What about hugs? You like them, right?”

The kid nods, eagerly.

“...Maybe I could have one, someday? If we can be friends? I’d like that...” More than they could know right now. More than anything else, even having Chidi remember her. This...This is just as painful, because she can’t be sure if this is fixable.

Eleanor crosses her legs as she sits, facing her friend.

“I’m so sorry, Michael. I know...you don’t understand that right now but...I’m sorry for why you’re scared of me...I wouldn’t ever wanna hurt you. Please believe me.”

Trust me? God, she’s such a hypocrite.

The kid eyes her, up and down, before turning to the flowers. They bend down, picking a few up into a small bouquet of daisies. Michael turns and hands it out to her.

“Oh...Uhh....Thanks...” Eleanor reaches for them.

Michael’s blue eyes flash red. The flowers burst into flames.

“Forking shirt!” Eleanor jumps.

And still the kid holds them out; “Pretty, right?”

A heartfelt laugh tumbles out of her; “...I can tell Jason’s been here.” Or maybe that was part of her friend’s demon nature. Either way, it was adorable. “Thank you, Michael.” she says, taking the flaming daisies. “You know...if you want, I could show you how to make chains out of these? We could make a crown for Tahani?”

“And ones for me and you?” Michael asks, hopeful.

Eleanor’s lip quivers, a sudden lump in her throat. She reaches out to run her palm over her friend’s white hair, soft as it’s always been; “Yeah...Me and you too, bud.”

#rose says she can't fix things #then immediately writes something to fix it #as weird as this is #like borderline crack fic #but still works within the canon #fluffy angst #hellstrop brotp fic #michael x tahani sistp #genderfluid michael #hints of future cottagecore teleanor? we'll see

13 notes · View notes

hoyaanae · 3 years

Text

My thoughts and all the things I love about Lovely Us (2020)

This drama really surprised me with how good it was written and made despite already knowing that this is highly rated by my cdrama mutuals. First ep right off the bat made me laugh and cry. The following eps kept the flow really well and established the characters and their relations. Before I know it, I'm already in love and attached to the characters and everything about this drama. It's very charming, calming and heartwarming to watch. The acting, writing, execution, ost, and production are well-done.

Set in 2007, this is another drama with nostalgic vibe that will remind you of your childhood and probably teenage years as well of your old neighborhood and the people you used to hang out with when you're younger. Even though I'm kinda fed up with childhood friends to lovers trope by now, this one did it the right way. Romance is slowburn but the buildup isn't slow at all. The main cp are so cute despite the daily bickerings that you just can't help but root for them to be together. It also have unrequited love trope where you'll see the character continuously root for that person and not expecting anything in return. There's no antagonist/evil characters in this story, just your feel-good slice-of-life drama with a touch of teenage romance in it.

Another strong point this drama have is the friendship and family dynamics. The five main leads have such amazing and solid friendship and their chemistry with each other is very natural to watch you'll wish you have the kind of friendship they have. It's endearing how their respective families are friends with one another and the parents have absolute trust with their children even allowing them to stay in closed room, have overnight at their house without adult supervision and even go to outdoor camping sharing one tent. It's refreshing to see how they showcased different parenting styles in each household and the parents aren't portrayed as someone controlling, instead they understand and communicate with their children. There's even one case wherein a parent realized he's doing it wrong so he asked for advice and help from his son's friend in order to get closer with his son.

Unlike other dramas, this one never drags out misunderstandings and touches the issue in the most heartwarming way that it never felt annoying or frustrating to watch, instead I became emotional at those moments that I can't help but shed a tear or ugly cry.

The characters are funny, full of mischief but sweet and thoughtful on the inside. It's a delight to watch them get together and have their little meetings, bicker and help each other out.

The ost will surely stay on repeat in my playlist for the next few days or weeks even. The song choices fit the mood so well and I find myself heavily lss-ed with the opening song. The song "Can I See You Tomorrow?" gives off the ultimate nostalgic vibe and reminds me of one ISWAK ost.

What really stood out to me the most are the moments in each ep wherein a certain character will narrate his/her thoughts about love, life, and family. They're beautifully and oftentimes poetically written matching with flashback scenes that made the dialogue even more heartfelt.

Here are some of the lines that are deeply engraved in my heart because they are beautifully written and will really go well as book passages:

"Once people become parents, their memory begins to become biased. They always remember they are their children's most reliable parents, but often forget that they are also children loved by their own parents. When they are waiting for their children to come back home, they forget that their own parents are also waiting for their return in a similar mood."

"The audio frequency of the sound when a snowflake falls on the water surface is over 50,000 Hz. Because it falls beyond human being's hearing range, this snowy day is still so quiet that it seems I can only hear my own heartbeat and that it seems there is only me and the person in front of me on this planet with a population of 6.6 Billion. I hope this world can be noiser so that I can pretend that I've never discovered this secret."

"They think that the probability is just 0.01, so they put on the emperor's new clothes, trying to hide their affections with magic. But affections are not that easy to hide. Even if the probability is pretty low, it will be revealed at a certain moment. So on that rainy night, while looking at her back, he found that the most obvious evidence of falling in love with her was the feeling of easement in his heart and the smile on his face when he looked at her."

"You think nothing will change as time flies by. But this time, the moment you let go and turn around, some things completely changed. The sun went down and before it rises again, some people will leave you forever. We always thought that there would be a big ceremony to say goodbye, so we keep waiting for a warm hug, a refreshing drink, and a heartfelt goodbye, but in the end, we realized that most goodbyes in our lives are all silent."

"At that silent corner in my mind, there are a number of weird illusions. For example, can I become Alice who enters the wonderland with White Rabbit? For example, can I become the little girl who enters the forest with Totoro? For example, is there some special switch in this box which can teleport me? No, none of them exist. There's no flying dragons or knights, and I'm not the heroine of some comics for girls, either. However, the only thing I'm sure about is that this escape greatly shocks my world. My palms would sweat, and my sight would be indistinct. Then my view becomes narrower and narrower until there's room for only one person in my eyes. After a long time, I know such a moment is named adventure, in which the one in your eyes is irreplaceable."

"The familiar chirping of cicadas on summer nights, the familiar bear doll who must lean by the lamb, the familiar lovely girl who frowns even when she sleeps, and the 17-yr-old time wrapped by the sense of familiarity never seem to have changed. The only difference is that when I look at the familiar him, I feel a flurry and uneasiness that I have never expected."

"There are many new days like today. Today, he holds my hand. Today, he holds me in his arms. Today, he carries me on his back and runs in the street in the early morning. Many days with him like today will eventually become my unforgettable past days. I'll remember days like today for a long time."

"Friendship means so much to us. It brings us close, and makes me flinch, so sometimes we just tell ourselves that as long as we're together, I can be just a friend of hers. But the taxi that I failed to catch, the phone calls that have been hung up, the time that's flying and my restless heart are telling me eagerly that in this world, both love and friendship are important. Every detail related to you is reminding me that we can't be just friends. So when it's still not too late, I have to tell you the things that I want to tell you as soon as possible. Huang Chengzi, I like you."

"In this world, it seems like all wishes have a guardian. Wishing wells, shooting stars, the aquarium's white whale. They're all hiding in the corners of the universe caressing the sorrow of loving someone alone. It's just that the god of happiness can't bless everyone out there. They let some people be happy and their wishes come true, and let some be sad, but they can't admit how sad they really are. The feeling of being in love is like a butterfly gently flapping its wings, that stirs up a hurricane in people's hearts. The second you realize it, then there's no escape."

#如此可爱的我们 #Lovely Us #Cdrama #Lovely Us cdrama #cdrama review

21 notes · View notes

margridarnauds · 3 years

Text

Things I Wish I Had Known About Being A Celticist (Before Becoming One):

1. If you’re North American, you’re going to have to work twice as hard to get the same level of respect as your peers from Europe. Get used to that now, because it won’t get any easier as time goes on. You’re also going to very likely be in classes with people who, while not FLUENT in Gaeilge, have at least some background in it. This can be a blessing and a curse - The curse is that you have less of an idea of what’s going on, the blessing is that the professors will focus a lot of the tougher questions on them, at least at first.

2. “So, do you have any Irish family?” You will be asked that question. All the time. If you’re North American or English. Unless you have, say, a grandma from Tipperary, the safest answer is always “No, not at all! I just love the literature/history/language/etc.”

3. Love languages? You’re going to! On average, depending on your program, it’s likely that you’ll at least be learning two languages. At enough of a level where you can get pretty in-depth when it comes to the grammar. Most Old Irish experts are expected to know Old Irish, Middle Welsh (at least enough for comparative purposes), and German, with Latin often being brought in. You’ll also be expected to be able to comment on the development of Old Irish, Middle Irish, Early Modern Irish, and Gaeilge - It’s essential if you’re going to date texts. There are also multiple other Celtic languages (Breton, Manx, Cornish, Scottish) that, while they might not be ESSENTIAL for whatever you’re doing, are still going to be cropping up at different times for comparison purposes - I’d be lying if I said I knew them WELL, and most people tend to stick fairly firmly to their area, BUT you will probably be learning at least a little of them. (Personally, no one asked me, but I honestly think that I couldn’t call myself a Celticist if I just knew one Celtic language, it’s why a longterm goal of mine is to build up as much knowledge of the others as I can.) I’ve seen quite a few scholars go in thinking that the linguistics part won’t be important, only to be slammed by the program early on. Even if you just want to do literary analysis, you’re going to have to explain the meaning and development of individual words, as well as situating it in the broader scope of the development of your language of choice. (IE “This is a ninth century text, and we know that because it has intact deponent verbs, the neuter article’s dying out, and no independent object pronoun. Also everything’s on fire because Vikings.”)

4. You’re very likely going to have to move. This applies mainly for North Americans who want to do it (unless you happen to live directly in, say, Toronto or Boston, in which case ignore what I said and, Bostonians, polish off your GREs and prepare to listen to Legally Blonde the Musical on repeat because you’re going to be applying for Harvard). There are very few Celtic Studies programs in the world and, in general, most of the major programs, sensibly, are in Celtic-speaking countries - So, if you want to study Scottish, you go to Scotland, you want Irish, you go to Ireland, Welsh in Wales, etc. If you already wanted to move to Europe for a year or two while you’re doing your MA, then great (and for EU students this doesn’t apply, since they can relocate much easier...unless they were planning on going to the UK in which case.....my condolences), but if you didn’t have any sudden plans to move, keep it in mind. From an American perspective, it was literally cheaper to move to Ireland and do my MA there than to deal with the school system here, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t other inconveniences associated with moving to another country. Even if you’re European, the field is fickle - An Irish scholar might find themselves moving to Scotland, an English scholar might find themselves moving to Ireland, etc. etc. These things happen when you have to take what you can get.

5. You don’t need Old Irish to go for your MA in Celtic Studies. You do not need Old Irish to go for your MA in Celtic Studies. When I first applied for my MA, I thought I didn’t have a chance because I had a general Humanities degree and didn’t have any formal experience with a Celtic language, least of all Old Irish. As it turns out, most programs do not expect you to have a background in this sort of thing beforehand, and quite a few have different programs for those who have a background in this stuff VS those who don’t, so don’t feel, if this is what you REALLY want to do, like you can’t just because of that. Show your passion for the field in your application, talk a little about the texts you’ve studied, angles you’re interested in, etc., make it the best application you can, and you still have a shot even without Old Irish (or, for non-Irish potential Celticists, whatever your target is.)

6. It’s competitive - Just because you get your MA, PhD programs are fewer and farer between. Academia in general isn’t known for its phenomenal job security, but Celtic Studies in particular is very fragile, since we generally are seen as low priority even among the Humanities programs (which, in general, are the first to be axed anyway.) If you focus on medieval languages as opposed to modern ones, you might very well find your program ranked lower in priority than your colleagues in the modern departments. Especially since COVID has gutted many universities’ income. I found that getting into a MA program was significantly easier than planning on what to do afterwards, since, for a PhD, you generally have to go someplace that can pay you at least some amount of money. Going into your PhD without any departmental funding is a recipe for burnout and bankruptcy, and there are very few Celtic Studies programs that can pay. Doesn’t mean you can’t try, and, when paid PhDs become available, they tend to be quite well publicized on Celtic Studies Twitter/Facebook, but keep in mind that you’ll be in a very competitive market. Networking is key - Your MA is your time to shine and get those treasured letters of rec so that you can get that sweet, sweet institutional funding for your PhD.

7. You’re very likely not actually going to teach Celtic Studies. Because there are so few teaching positions available worldwide, it’s much more likely that you’ll be teaching general Humanities/Composition/etc. This doesn’t mean that you’ll be giving up Celtic Studies (conferences are always going to be open, you don’t have to stay in one department for your entire life and can snag a position when it becomes available, and, even if you go outside of academia, the tourism industry...well, it was looking for Celticists, before The Plague), it just means that if teaching it is what you REALLY want to do with your life, it might be good to check your expectations. A few programs even have an option where you can essentially double major for the sake of job security. (So, if you always wanted to be the world’s first French Revolution historian/Celticist/Gothic Literature triple threat......................the amount of reading you’d have to do would likely drive you insane but................)

8. Make nice with your department. Make nice with your department. Celtic Studies departments tend to be small and concentrated, so you’re going to be knowing everyone quite well by the end of your first grad degree, at least. You don’t have to like everyone in it, but they aren’t just your classmates, they’re your colleagues. You will be seeing at least some of their faces for the rest of your life. I can say that my MA department remembered students who left the program a decade ago. Your department is supposed to have your back, and they can be an invaluable source of support when you need it the most, since they understand the program and what it entails better than anyone else can. You’ll need them for everything from moral support to getting you pdfs of That One Article From A Long Discontinued Journal From The 1970s. I’ve seen students who made an ass of themselves to the department - Their classmates remembered them five years later. Don’t be that guy. Have fun, go to the holiday dinners, get to know people, ask about their work, attend the “voluntary” seminars and lectures, and do not make an ass of yourself. That is how you find yourself jumping from PhD program to PhD program because your old professors “forgot” your letter of rec until the day after the deadline. Also, since your departments are small and concentrated, it’s a good idea to prepare to separate your social media for your personal stuff vs your academics as much as you can, since it won’t be too hard to track you down if people just know that you do Celtic Studies.

9. Some areas of the field are more respected than others. If you want to do work on the legal or ecclesiastical aspects, excellent. If you want to focus on the linguistic elements, excellent. If you’re here for literature.....there’s a place, though you’re going to have to make damned sure to back it up with linguistic and historical evidence. (There’s less theory for theory’s sake, though theoretical approaches are slowly gaining more acceptance.) But if you’re here for mythography or comparative approaches...there is a PLACE for you, but it’s a little dustier than the others. There are fewer programs willing to outright teach mythology, mainly because it’s seen as outdated and unorthodox, especially since the term itself in a Celtic context is controversial. Pursue it, God knows we need the support, but just...be prepared to mute a lot of your academic social media. And, really, your social media in general. And have a defense prepared ahead of time. With citations. Frankly, I think my Bitch Levels have gone up a solid 50% since getting into this area, because consistently seeing the blue checkmarks on Twitter acting like you’re not doing real work while you’re knees deep in a five volume genealogical tract tends to do that to you. If it ever seems like I go overboard with the citations when it comes to talking about the Mythological Cycle, this is why - I have to. It’s how I maintain what legitimacy I have. I’d still do it if I’d have known, but I would have appreciated the heads up. (On the plus side - It means that, in those few programs that DO teach mythology, you’re golden, because they want all the serious students they can get.)

10. If you really, really love it, it’s worth it. After all this, you’re probably wondering why anyone would sign on for this. The work’s grueling and often unrewarding, you might or might not get respect for what you do based off of where you were born and what your interests are, and you’re subject to an incredibly unpredictable job market so you might never see any material compensation for all of it. But, if you can check your expectations of becoming rich off of it, if all you REALLY want to do is chase it as far as it can go, then it’s worth it. There’s a lot of work to be done, so you don’t have to worry too much about trotting over the same thing that a dozen scholars have already done. You might get the chance to be the very first person, for example, to crack into a text that no one’s read for over a thousand years, or you might totally re-analyze something because the last person to look at it did it in the 19th century, or you might get to be the first person to look at an angle for a text or figure that no one’s considered. If finding a reference to your favorite person in a single annal from the 17th century makes you walk on air for the entire day, then you might very well be the sort of person the field needs.

#celtic studies #long post #school tw

22 notes · View notes

my-writings-and-musings · 3 years

Text

I have another lovely commission to share with you all! An awesome person wanted a super cute bit of interaction between Springload and Quillfire, so here it is!

Quillfire tried to keep the frown on his face from appearing too off putting as he left the base behind, keeping pace with Springload but ensuring the two of them had considerable personal space at the same time. To the benefit of their mission Earth's forests offered ample cover all around, ensuring neither had anything to fear in regards to detection. Though, to the anarchist, potential discovery was the least of his concerns. His last parting with the other mech had been under less than amicable terms, so he was fully anticipating a very unpleasant mission. In fact, he wouldn't have been surprised to learn Springload was planning to ditch him at the nearest opportunity. Such a prediction seemed more likely than not considering how the amphibicon had a tendency towards the dramatic. Was he going to be accused of defying invisible spirits, or sullying important signals from some great deity before he was exposed to corrosive attacks? It all seemed equally probable...

Frowning a little harder, he watched Springload hop ahead of him and wondered if this mission would end in failure like the last. They'd been up against considerable odds, and things weren looking much better. Steeljaw had been very insistent on them teaming up, so he had a bit of hope this would go well, but-

Crossing his arms, he huffed quietly to himself as he abandoned the train of thought, plodding along behind his chosen partner all the while. Why should he be the one to mend things? More importantly, why did he want to? There were a million other activities he could be doing at the moment, all of them more conducive to speeding up a revolution than this! Just imagining all the injustice on this backwards planet made his quills twitch with unease. Oh, how he longed to tear down the tyranny that was evident around every corner-

"Can you move more swiftly?" Springload barked back at him unexpectedly, hopping along through the forest at a pace few could match with a mere walk. Admittedly though, Quillfire was lagging behind as he mused over his unhappy thoughts. The amphibicon fixed him with an impatient glare. "The sooner this mission is completed, the sooner I may return to my quest!"

Quillfire obeyed with a gulp, a reaction so out of character for himself he didn't know what to make of it. For some unfathomable reason, he wanted to make peace with this bot, and he was stuck with that. Perhaps he just didn't want to endure an entire mission tainted by awkward silences and angry glares, but what could possibly make things amicable between them? This bot wanted nothing but the treasure of a fabled city that didn't exist, how was he supposed to provide anything like that? Perhaps… just some conversation might do the trick? If only to lighten the mood...

As they came to a road that marked the next leg of their mission, he made an effort to think of something to say as the amphibicon pondered their map, as well as the instructions they'd been given.

"Steeljaw instructed us to wait here and construct an ambush site. When the human transport arrives, we are to steal their cargo…" he said, finishing the statement with a most distasteful croak. Clearly, his fellow bot was not especially interested in the mission either, and likely was imagining countless other ways his time could be better spent. Such was a common feeling at their rank, and he did truly share most of the frustration. With that as a starting point, Quillfire imagined they may have some common ground after all.

"I will keep watch on the road, so that you might strike at the most opportune time!" he declared boldly, emphasizing his faith in the others skills. It wasn't even a stretch, as he firmly believed the other was more than capable of getting this done. Looking up and down the simple paved path to ensure he had a good vantage point, he found one in the form of a sheltered outcrop. Looking to Springload for a reaction the entire time, he smirked confidently and clamored up to the flat bit of earth above the road, gesturing to the wide field of observable forest as he did so. "We will claim our quarry with a single attack, and return victorious!"

Springload merely observed him with a blink of apathetic consideration. "Yes, indeed." he said simply, hopping into position and making sure to face away from his teammate when he did so. Pulling out the holo of his supposed map, he began to study it as he always did, scanning the runes for what had to be the millionth time. A terse tone made his feelings on any future reconciliation clear. "Then I may continue my quest for Doradas, alone."

The anarchist's quills sagged at the turn of events. While he hadn't been expecting immediate friendship, he also hadn't anticipated that the other mech would be so openly hostile to any kind of amicable teamwork, and found himself quite disappointed by the lack of success. For whatever reason, he just wanted Springload to like him, and failing at that was bothering him. I'm fact, it was bad enough that some part of him just refused to accept the defeat. There had to be a way he could earn the other's camaraderie. Considering how much time they still had left before their mission began, he had a good window in which to ponder a solution.

Sitting back on the soft grass, he put a hand to his chin in intense thought. Springload himself only openly cared about one thing, and he didn't know him well enough to be aware of any other likes or interests… Casting a glance at the amphibicon, he felt his processor buzzing at the strain of thinking so hard to produce no results. He simply didn't know anything about geography, archeology, linguistics or any other topic which might help the other mech in his quest. The thought that he might not be able to do anything ate at him much more than it should have. It was enough to make him sigh sadly to himself at the hopelessness of it all.

"Do you see something?" Springload asked, mistaking his small sound for a potential signal. Embarrassed and surprised, Quillfire coughed and babbled out an excuse as fast as he could come up with one.

"Ah… no! I simply mistook a… an organic being for the target!" he explained lamely, not even believing himself. Springload arched an optic ridge, looking as incredulous as he did frustrated at the false alarm. Quillfire laughed awkwardly to clear the air, shrinking down beneath the edge of the outcrop to disappear from view. A dissatisfied croak let him know the outburst was thoroughly not appreciated.

Frowning miserably to himself, the anarchist occupied his lonesome by doodling in the dirt at his pedes, practicing his signature mark as he often did while thinking. What was he supposed to do? Apologies were not in his nature, least of all because he didn't want to give them. As a loner he just didn't have much practice saying he was sorry to anyone. Ordinarily he was busy disrupting systems of power, overthrowing tyrannical systems, or freeing trapped souls with no one else to save them… Thoughts and feelings like these were too new for him to know what to do with them.

Thinking hard, he tried to come up with something he could do to earn the favor of the other mech, but still came up short. It was frustrating enough to make him draw more aggressively, because deep down he was certain there had to be a way to succeed. Springload wasn't too different from himself, after all. A lone mech, seeking his goals, using his natural gifts and weapons to take down those who opposed him…

Just as he was about to growl to himself at his failure to be inspired, his digit bumped against something in the soft earth. Without anything better to do, he slowly went about digging the object free. A flash of a white, shiny exterior motivated him to continue. Briefly forgetting about his troubles, he dug until a dirty but visibly solid object began to reveal its shape. Round and about the size of his palm, a glossy white stone came from the dirt without too much fuss, and he smiled at the small accomplishment. It was a rather lovely treasure for such a simple planet.

Just as he began to dust some of the remaining dirt from the granite or quartz exterior, he was struck by an idea, one so foolish he had to wonder how it could work.

Still, he was a champion of crazy ideas, so he dared to consider it.

Springload was a mech who one could describe as… extravagant, both in mission and mind. He required one to go all out, as he never held back in regards to the quest that he'd dedicated his entire life to completing. Overall, he was just an unusual bot. Perhaps, if Quillfire was thinking this through properly, that meant he could be reasoned with through some unusual means?

Tilting the rounded stone in his servo, he dared to believe a simple yet unusual gift would be enough to at least get the two of them started on a path to mending their teamwork. If nothing else, he'd at least get to tell himself he tried. The hardest part would be working up the courage to begin, but hopefully after that things would be easier. He just needed to take that first step…

Peeking over the edge of the outcrop, he saw that the amphibicon was in the same place he'd last been, reading over his map and murmuring to himself. Despite having read it every day for eons, the dedicated bot didn't look the least bit uninterested in his work. If anything, he looked downright eager, as if on the verge of a breakthrough at any given time. Quillfire hoped interrupting him wouldn't cause an even greater rift to form.

Clearing his vents, he found his pump pounding with unnatural anxiety as he forced his voice box to speak up, his servos almost trembling about the stone as he took a considerable leap of faith.

"S-Springload?" he finally croaked out, nearly losing his nerve when the other mech looked up to him with painfully obvious annoyance. Gulping, he overcame his anxiety to speak up and stand tall to appear more confident than he felt. "Can you… come up here? There is something you must see!"

Brightly colored optics widened, then fixed him with a look equal parts incredulous and irritated. "Is it important?"

"Very!" he insisted, sounding honest because he truly meant it with all of his spark. What could be more important than mending his fued with a fellow teammate?

In a single hop, Springload tucked away his map and cleared the entire road, landing just before Quillfire with a graceful thud.

"I, er…" he stammered as the silliness of what he was about to do hit him in full. Unable to remember the last time he had given or received anything, he was without a clue as to what to say, so he simply held out the stone in his cupped palms with an attempt at a smile. There was a perceptible tremble in his arms as he did so, but he remained strong. "I believe I'm supposed to give this to you!"

Springload didn't immediately react beyond a raised brow, so he stammered forth more of an explanation, spark sinking in his chest. "As a s-sign of… teamwork."

"A white stone?" the amphibicon said at last, as if awakening from a light trance. Taking the rock carefully into his large servo, all while ensuring his acidic coat didn't touch the other mech, he held the item aloft into the light. Just seeing him interested made the anarchist dare to hope things might work out, but in his wildest of dreams he'd never have anticipated what happened next. Springload lit up like a mech beholding a Prime out of the blue, his optics turning away from the stone for just a moment.

"Just the same as those that line the gates of Doradas!" he exclaimed in awe.

Quillfire didn't have any response for that, good or bad as it may have been.

"What?"

"The sacred text makes it clear!" he shouted in explanation, bringing forth his scroll of indecipherable runes as if it made everything make sense. Gesturing to the lines of what Springload saw as gibberish, he began to proclaim their meaning with enthusiasm, optics wide and wild. "You see, here?! The gates of the Holy City will be lined with pure stones to mark the way!"

"I'm…" was all he could reply with, still a million miles behind the other mech in regards to understanding. While he'd hoped at most for appreciation or a mere thanks, Springload looked about ready to burst with excitement, and for reasons he couldn't even begin to comprehend. At the very least he figured he should be happy for the turn of events when he was surprised yet again.

"But how could you know?" Springload pressed, catching him more than a little off guard. Holding up his servos in surrender, Quillfire tried to figure out what exactly he was supposed to have known, and how he might have gone about figuring it out. He'd just thought it was pretty and would make a decent gesture of peace! Fumbling for a response so as not to lose his progress, he was saved by another burst of revelation he had no part in.

"Of course, the spirits!" he exclaimed, almost dropping the rock in his excitement. Clasping his servos over the apparently precious gift, he explained his excitement more or less by simply talking aloud to himself. "They must have guided you, enabling you to find such a sacred object, so that you could gift it to me!"

Accepting he would never truly understand, Quillfire only smiled and nodded at the other's exuberance. More than happy things had turned out so well, he was content to let the other mech believe whatever he wanted, even if he didn't follow it. "Of course!"

"As to why they would do this… they must know you are key to my quest!" Springload continued, using an avid free servo to clasp the other mech's arm in a sign of commitment. More surprised than confused, the anarchist tilted his helm in shock at how fast things had changed between them. Just like that, everything that had happened was forgiven? More than forgiven, in fact, he was seen as a friend and ally? It didn't seem inaccurate to say he was also being looked at as a divine being at the moment. By the Primes, this bot was like no other!

"I was a fool! To think, I tried to push you away!" the amphibicon cried, deactivating his acid so he could better cling to the taller mech. Seeing the emotion in his eyes, Quillfire wondered if he might start weeping, and hoped it wouldn't come to such a show. Not only was he not the best at providing comfort, he didn't have any tissues… Mercifully, the big optics looking into his seemed to sparkle with jubilation rather than tears.

"Ah, it's really nothing…" Quillfire reassured, beginning to blush from the high praise. A spare servo massaged the back of his neck in an open show of bashful deflection. Such a small thing hardly felt worthy of this kind of praise, even for a mech as glory seeking as himself. Not that he was disliking this turn of events.

"It's everything!" Springload corrected, emphatic and no longer impatient. "You must have been sent into my life by the spirits themselves!"

Actively blushing at that, the anarchist looked away, rubbing harder at the back of his neck. He hadn't a clue what to do with this newfound respect and admiration. Perhaps the other bot was just having a momentary burst of affection, which would give way as soon as the next symbol or sign grabbed his attention, but at present such a turn seemed beyond doubtful. Quillfire was being regarded in a way typically saved for the most ancient and holy of altars to the Primes. In the depths of his spark, he wanted it to last.

A distant but heavy sound caught his sharp audials, just as the tremor sensitive Springload perked up in synchronized recognition. Something was rumbling its way down the primitive earth road. Recalling their mission so fast his quills flared in alarm, the anarchist stood up to his full height, catching a glimpse of a truck through the densely packed pines. Their target was approaching fast. Worse, they were in no position to intercept it as planned.

Thinking fast, Quillfire pulled one of his namesake weapons from his back, preparing to strike as the unknowing human drove their way.

"I shall block the path." he announced, redirecting their strategy from before to include himself. Business came first for them both, so each was ready in an instant. Springload crouched low on his powerful legs in anticipation of his orders, which came just as the truck began barreling down the final stretch in their direction, multiple tons on a solid course they needed to stop. "You, render it motionless once it is stopped."

An agreeable ribbit communicated hearty understanding in the final moments before their strike.

While massive by earth standards, the truck was small enough for Quillfire to plan his moves without much of a risk. Still, he was careful in his timing, as the cargo was as valuable as it was delicate. Any great crash would render it useless. Their success hinged on him being precise more than cautious, so he waited for the perfect amount of distance to be between himself and his target before he leapt down into the asphalt below.

Well practiced using his own weapons, he tossed his quill just ahead of the already braking truck, funneling their path to the point of nonexistence. With nowhere to go, the driver was forced to slam on the brakes and skid to a stop, not having the option to go around or turn back. Quillfire smirked in pride at the human's textbook reaction, and could have sworn he heard Springload give a cheer at his victory. Near victory, that was, there was still one crucial step for them to see through.

"Now!" he ordered as the multiple tire sets came to a stop just shy of him. With the speed of someone working on the same page, the amphibicon dove from his perch, shooting his tongue out like a whip. Acid and force popped the tires in rapid succession, filling the air with a series of bangs and creaks until the heavy machine collapsed onto nothing but it's hubcaps. Rubber flew in every direction and nothing even resembling tires remained to spin, leaving multiple tons collapsed on the asphalt. The truck would not be going anywhere.

"A clean victory!" Springload declared happily, still clutching his gift as he hopped back beside Quillfire. "Truly, the spirits are on our side in full. You are their greatest emissary."

Beaming at the praise, Quillfire turned when he heard the door of the vehicle opening up. Both mech's turned just as the human driver jumped from the vehicle, landing in a heap on the ground as he did so. Catching their mutual gaze, the tiny being threw up his hands in surrender, wide eyed and terrified as could be. A gigantic, metallic frog and an even bigger metal porcupine had not been mentioned when he'd taken the job.

"Look, I'm n-not paid enough for this!" he stammered, gesturing wildly to the trailer as he slowly stepped backwards on shaking legs. Giving up the goods completely for his own sake, he unknowingly earned the approval of a certain anarchist. Abandoning one's shackles for self preservation was a key tactic, and he smiled as the human gave them both full clearance, dropping his keys on the spot. "Just take the truck! A-all of it!"

"We shall, your cooperation is appreciated." Springload replied, sounding a bit haughty. In truth the human's cooperation meant little; either mech was fully capable of taking what they wanted without much effort. Happy just to see someone making the right choices, Quillfire praised and comforted the terrified earthling in what he considered to be the best way.

"Fear not, brother. You have been liberated from the bonds of oppressive labor!" he encouraged, presenting the human with a smile of reassurance. Reacting with what he presumed to be unfathomable joy, the tiny being turned about and began to sprint, disappearing into the trees with a considerable ruckus of breaking branches and fussing animals. Screams of jubilation began echoing out after he was long gone from sight.

Waving the lucky one off, Quillfire smiled at the impossible fortune this day had brought him, happy to share it with others. If humans could figure out the true way to live, perhaps there was yet hope for them. He dared to believe as much while shouting after the former truck driver. "Go forth, tiny earthling! Enjoy the freedom we have given you!"

Turning back to the work yet to be completed, he found Springload using his selectively acidic touch to melt through the lock of the truck's trailer, his gift still peeking out through his other servo's protective grip. Marveling at how the other mech seemed intent on believing his truth, Quillfire still decided to let it be. Though happy just to be friends, it was quite likely this was just how things worked for such a dramatic bot. He was surprised how he was beyond accepting of such a concept, and in fact, quite looking forward to it.

As the doors opened, the two of them found a rather manageable cluster of boxes secured tightly to avoid damaging movement. Comfortable as the load would have been for two bots, it doubtlessly was too much for one, yet Springload began freeing it from its bonds with a smile.

"Allow me to carry this burden, great one! It is the least I can offer!" he said eagerly, tucking his stone away into a subspace beside his spark. Cutting their payload free, he began to move the boxes happily outside, no doubt planning to pile them all into his altmode. While usually happy to get some time off, Quillfire didn't feel right about leaving the other mech to handle it all. Their new partnership deserved to get off to a much better start than that.

"I can help." he reassured simply, taking his fair share of the boxes to carry in his hands. Though the smaller mech needed his altmode to handle his share, he didn't allow transforming to stop his eager chatting, and continued to extoll the virtues of his new ally as a happy pickup truck.

"Such generosity!" he praised, putting along to leave the abandoned truck behind them. Though a little overwhelmed by the idea of someone seeing him as a bona fide gift from ancient deities, he allowed the other mech's chatter to fill the walk home, finding it to be far better than the awkward silence that had followed them here. Who ever would have been able to guess a mere stone could change so much?

"I shall have to insist we are partnered together for future endeavors! As two individuals chosen by the spirits, our camaraderie can bring only success!" Springload gushed, turning about happily on his bouncing tires. "Would that please you, great one? I am certain riches will come to us both!"

Though he still had his own dreams, Quillfire didn't indeed find the idea of more missions like this very agreeable, so much so that he had no problem smiling in affirment.

"Riches indeed, my new friend!"

#transformers #maccadam #transformers rid2015 #rid2015 #rid2k15 #rid #robots in disguise 2015 #quillfire #springload #my writing #my commissions #aligned

29 notes · View notes

kiribakuhappiness · 3 years

Note

I wanna know your thoughts on the possible new my hero moivee With all the different theories going around I wanna know you standing point

I’m glad you brung it up ‘cause I’ve been dying to talk about it for a hot minute, first of all -

Okay. I have so. many. thoughts. on this and I’ve been waiting until I felt a bit better after being sick to answer this ask because I tried to write up a response already and my brain was so foggy that it literally made no sense, I was just *rambling* and then I pointed to a picture that was completely unrelated and went - see?!?! Ahaha! Like, oh my god.

But! Now I’m back on my coherent rambling bullshit so - here we go. (Please be aware of any slight spoilers regarding the manga / series in this post and that all of these are my own opinions and my own theories, which you are more than welcome to disagree with or have some kind of rebuttal for. I’m just here to be a part of the discussion and throw in my two cents on a few things since some of my followers are curious!)

These are all of my first immediate thoughts upon seeing the promotional image and the tagline included.

*cracks knuckles*

Their new costumes??

Their new costumes?????

I don’t know how to describe this feeling that I have nor do I have any evidence to back up this first claim that I am about to make but my only thought on the costumes is that they are government-issued or specially-made specifically for a certain mission or training exercise, mostly because of the NHA (National Hero Association???) logo printed on the sides and also because they’re not shown in the manga or anything like that outside of this promotional teaser -

But damn, are they sleek as FUCK.

Like, if Todoroki went the rest of his days using that suit, I would die happy, because wow, immaculate. I am so in love with Bakugou’s new gauntlets. Just fucking send me to heaven (or hell idk the rules) now.

As for the “HE” in the teaser sentence shown on the original image – I think, like most people do, that it is meant to be inferred that they are referring to All for One in some degree (though I don’t think that All for One is going to be the main villain of the movie. I think there will probably be a side villain or something that takes precedence over All for One and that All for One might appear just for a bit at the end or something).

HOWEVER, I have other theories about who “HE” is referring to, which I will get into in a moment.

(Quick side bar here – Do any of my followers also think that All for One is Deku’s father or something? Because let me tell you, ya girl just can’t get this damn fan theory out of her head ‘cause like... Deku was born quirkless, All for One is about borrowing and lending quirks, all the other parallels, and we know how much my man Horikoshi loves parallels… I just... I don’t know what happened along the way and I think someone posted something ages ago that may or may not have debunked that entire theory already but after the Dabi reveal of recent chapters it just feels very in line with the BNHA mindset and previously displayed plot twists, but WHAT DO I KNOW, BACK TO THE SHOW!)

So.

The three musketeers.

There’s a lot to unpack there.

Firstly, I think Todoroki is going to experience One for All at some point in some way, because Bakugou already experienced it and the whole slogan for the three musketeers is “all for one and one for all, united we stand divided we fall” - which is obviously a play on the quirk and All for One, blah, blah, blah. So I think that at some point Todoroki is also going to have One for All for a short period of time just like Bakugou had in Heroes Rising (but boy, if they try to pull the same bullshit they did before where they were like “OOP. He used OfA but he doesn’t remember any of it lul” I’m going to lose my fucking mind, cause that really pissed me off in Heroes Rising LOL).

But. I also wanted to take a closer look at Alexandre Dumas’ novel “The Three Musketeers” - just for funsies (stay with me on this wild ride, I promise I connect all the dots at the end):

Disclaimer: I am a huge literature nerd. I’ve read “The Three Musketeers” so many damn times, it’s insulting, and there’s A LOT that happens in those novels that I won’t ever be able to ramble on about for long enough to do it justice for those who haven’t read it and that’s fine because there’s only a few things that I would like to bring to everyone’s attention in regards to the original stories and how they may or may not connect with this movie.

1. None of the three musketeers are the protagonist of the story.

The protagonist is actually a man called D’Artagnan, or sometimes he is referred to as “the fourth musketeer” by readers, who arrives in Paris because he wants to join the King’s musketeers, but somewhere along the way he ends up offending/pissing off the three musketeers and they all end up challenging him to this duel (because of course they do, violence solves everything, don’t you know?) and the duel ends up getting interrupted by a bunch of guards working for the ‘bad guy’ (who I won’t name just to keep this as simple and straight forward as possible) and D’Artagnan ends up fighting WITH the three musketeers to defeat the guards and they all end up being friends (LMAO I am way oversimplifying this but that’s literally what happens and now you get the point).

2. The ‘bad guy’ has a lot of his work done for him by his right-hand woman; MiLady de Winter.

I believe (and this is just one of my theories) that MiLady from the three musketeers is SUPPOSED to make us believe that it’s the reflection of the UA traitor, but I don’t think she actually IS, and I will also explain what I mean by that in another moment.

SO!

With these two pieces of information in mind, I theorize that the aforementioned “HE” in the tagline actually doesn’t have anything to do with a villain or All for One at all, but it’s actually referring to whoever ends up fighting alongside the three musketeers (Bakugou, Midoriya, and Todoroki) in the movie, and who the entire movie is going to be centered around in some way or another (don’t misread this; I still think that Midoriya will be the main NARRATOR of the movie but I don’t think that means that he will be the main CHARACTER – there’s a very distinct difference between those two roles. One of them is telling the story, the other is who the story is actually about).

Now, IF we’re sticking with the three musketeers theme (which you can tell I’m obviously leaning very heavily on that being the case in all of my theories because that is literally all that we are given to theorize about at this time), then I would like to provide my take on who is who, because I think it’s a very important distinction, which are as followed:

Bakugou is Porthos

Porthos is generally known for being very extroverted, loud, he is known for his physical strength, and he is described as being “gullible” (which, that word by itself with its reflexive connotations doesn’t seem to fit him at all, but when you think about what the word gullible actually means – easily persuaded or manipulated – then yeah, it fucking fits the boot LMAO). Not to mention that he (Porthos) is often used as a sense of comic relief, which I truly believe that Bakugou is ‘used’ sometimes as a comic sense of relief throughout the manga and anime, because it off balances his ferocious nature in a way that further proves to the audience that just because he is feral, that doesn’t inherently mean that he is bad.

Midoriya is Aramis

Aramis is generally known for being vastly ambitious and never satisfied in the sense that he is always working for more, which stumbled me at first because I was originally picturing Bakugou as Aramis, but he (Aramis) craves to live the life of a solider (see the parallel? Midoriya craves to live the life of a hero), and he (Aramis) sees every new victory as a step in the right direction to a ‘greater power’ (which, if my characterizations are correct, parallels Midoriya’s mindset that every new victory or challenge he overcomes is another step towards better handling and controlling One for All and making it his own quirk).

Todoroki is Athos

Athos is generally known for being very noble, handsome, and he is a bit of a sad or melancholy character, as he has a very depressing and mysterious backstory that he actually ends up telling to D’Artagnan, but he doesn’t end up telling D’Artagnan that the sad story is based on him (which, I don’t know about you guys, but that damn near sounds like Todoroki Shouto to me).

Now.

NOW.

Are you guys ready for this? We’re gonna get into the really good theories here.

I would no doubt be flooded with inboxes and messages if I didn’t mention the poses that the boys are portraying in the teaser image and how it all connects to the mysterious UA traitor and how everyone (including me) is losing their damn minds over the fact that Bakugou is using Kirishima’s pose, and so people are theorizing that must mean that Kirishima is the traitor since Midoriya and Todoroki are mimicking both Shigaraki and Dabi, respectively.

Here is my theory on all of that, and here is the detail that I think a lot of people are overlooking that I think might be really important IF (seriously, all of my theories ride on this) IF Horikoshi and the producers are indeed leaning heavily on the comparisons between “The Three Musketeers” and the BNHA characters (which I can only assume that they are, otherwise they would have chosen different wording, etc, for their promotional images).

So, Athos’ big sad backstory is all about how he was married to this woman who then ended up being revealed as this convicted thief and all this angst happened and by the end of it, Athos believes that his thieving wife is dead.

Athos believes that his thieving wife is dead.

Athos (TODOROKI) believes that his thieving wife (MURDEROUS BROTHER - DABI) is dead.

I just. I feel like this is really important BECAUSE in “The Three Musketeers” story, Athos’ thieving wife who he believed to be dead (drink every time I repeat that line ahaha) is actually alive and well and working for the aforementioned ‘bad guy.’

HMMM. DOES THAT SOUND LIKE ANYONE WE KNOW????

It’s my theory (and my own opinion) that this whole movie is going to be heavily driven by the Todoroki family and all of their Keeping up with the Kardashian type drama in some way (maybe not directly because manga and spoilers and blah, blah, blah, but in some sort of significant way), because the first movie was all about Midoriya going to I-Island and learning more about One for All and All Might and everything like that, and then the second movie was all about Bakugou and how he ended up using One for All and how he and Midoriya worked together and they showed snippets of the LoV doing their things back in Musutafu, and now I just assume that Todoroki is probably going to be given One for All at some point in this movie, or he’s going to share it amongst Bakugou and Midoriya, because the three musketeers, and the fact that he’s in the promotional teaser when literally nobody else is, and the fact that his character heavily seems to reflect Athos character in the novel to an almost absurd degree.

So, for me, the whole ‘Kirishima being the UA traitor’ and that being proven by Bakugou using his signature move in the teaser photo is not anything to seriously worry about - and I don’t say this just because I’m a KiriBaku fan or anything at all like that (though seriously, if it’s true, what the fuck am I gonna do with this damn blog, I-?? Ahaha!) but I say this for a few different reasons;

I don’t think the “convicted thief” or whatever that is heavily implied within the three musketeer story is connected to Bakugou in anyway, I think it’s all a contrasting parallel to Todoroki and the Dabi reveal somehow, and that the UA traitor won’t be making any kind of appearance in this film in that way.

I don’t think their relationship (Bakugou and Kirishima) is center stage enough to be used as any kind of plot twist in the story, unfortunately. And what I mean by that is; I think that the entire relationship was built up as a way to influence the audience into rethinking their original thoughts about Bakugou’s character from the beginning of the series (since in the beginning he was literally the most horrible shit kid to Midoriya and everyone hated him and he was treated as a villain – blah blah blah – thus building up the suspense leading up to the rescue arc in which the audience was genuinely divided at the time on whether or not Bakugou was actually going to side with Shigaraki and join the LoV), because then once he (Bakugou) declines the offer to join the LoV and he accepts Kirishima’s helping hand, it was supposed to be a turning point for the audience to realize that they may have been misled by his feral ambition into believing that he could really be a bad guy when in the end, he’s just as much of a hardcore hero fanboy as the rest of his class, and that if such a great guy like Kirishima can befriend him then he must not be all that bad.

We have already seen Kirishima’s backstory. We have already seen the struggles he faced to get accepted into UA, we have already seen how much he looked up to Mina’s bravery, we have already been introduced to his undying love for the most chivalrous hero Crimson Riot, and hey, maybe this whole persona thing he has going on is all an act, sure. Maybe the villains got to him when he was still dark-haired and weak, and maybe they are copy+pasting Crimson Riot into Red Riot as a way to slip under the radars, yeah, maybe. But I really fucking doubt it. Mostly because, unfortunately, I believe his relationship with Bakugou (as mentioned above) was written specifically to reverse the audience’s opinion of Bakugou, but then since he became so popular and was such a loved character, that then his inclusion in the Eri rescue operation sort of solidifies him as the man that Horikoshi says he is. It just wouldn’t make any sense, in my opinion as a writer, to turn Kirishima right around in a 360-twist to be revealed as the traitor, since it would just feel like too much of a stab in the back in regards to the trust that the readers are giving Horikoshi in believing that what he shows us is more or less the truth because we don’t have anything else to go on and he went into such great detail into his backstory that it would be such a waste to then say, ha, SIKE.

I think that Bakugou using Kirishima’s pose is a deliberate red herring – I think it’s specifically meant to throw the audience off in all these different directions and to get the theories growing in the fandom, and I actually think that it’s meant to pull attention AWAY from Todoroki, because in my opinion, the entire movie will most likely focus heavily on Todoroki in some way or another (whether because of Dabi or not), since I believe that he will probably gain the use of One for All at some point during the film, just like Bakugou had, and I believe that the LoV (and more specifically, Dabi) will have some part in this film outside the realm of All for One.

I just think that the narrative is constantly trying to lead us in different directions so that you don’t end up paying much attention to all of the other little details that would then point towards something else, much like how (spoilers for some of the manga chapters here - if you don’t want to read then skip the rest of this paragraph) they keep kind of hinting at Bakugou’s death, over and over again, like dangling it on a string and being like, is he gonna die this time? What about this time? What about now - with his guts all over the place after he fucking saved Deku’s life? Could happen at any moment!

So, I just think that Bakugou using Kirishima’s pose is just because Kirishima has had a huge influence on his character development and it would be the perfect red herring to lead the fans on some wild goose chase in the interest of gaining public awareness for the movie.

(Also - in the discussion of the UA traitor, I really believe that it’s Class 1-B’s sensei, actually - ahaha! Either that or Aoyama, but I’ve started to kind of lean away from that one because Class 1-B’s sensei is fucking sus and I don’t care what anyone says, that’s my own theory until proven wrong! Just let me live in this world a little longer, okay?! :,D)

Soooo... to sum this shit up (TLDR AMIRIGHT LMAO), because holy shit this got way out of hand and I haven’t even really gotten into the meat of all of my theories regarding the fucking PLOT of the new potential movie yet but whatever –

TLDR;

- I think the really cool NHA suits are temporary costumes issued specifically for some type of training exercise or undercover mission or something like that.

- I think Bakugou posing like Kirishima is some kind of red herring meant to make everyone panic, but I don’t think it really holds any weight in the UA traitor discussion/theory, and I don’t think the UA traitor will be revealed in the movie – because it would kind of be dropping a BIG plot point in the series into a separate movie that maybe a good portion of the manga readers / anime watchers might not even see and therefore would not fully understand once the series caught up with the movie (whenever the timeline might be). I just think a lot of the stuff that happens in the movies are not directly related to the series for the very purpose that if somebody watches the anime but then doesn’t watch the movies, they don’t miss anything too important.

- I think the movie might lean heavily on Todoroki and perhaps include some of his family drama, especially in regards to Dabi (since the reveal happened right before the promotional teaser dropped and generally speaking it takes about 8-9 months after initial speculation for the movie to then come out with a trailer of some kind, which would be plenty of time for those who want to read the manga to have done so by then), and that at some point during the film Todoroki is going to use or obtain One for All in a similar manner that Bakugou did in the second movie in order to help fight off a random side villain that doesn’t have much of an impact in regards to the fight between heroes and villains happening in the main storyline.

- I think the “HE” in the teaser image doesn’t have much to do with All for One, but actually it’s referring to some mysterious side character who is going to end up fighting with Bakugou, Todoroki, and Midoriya (playing the parallel, inferred role of D’Artagnan) and that All for One won’t actually be the villain in the film, but he may show up for a bit at the end.

All of these theories revolve HEAVILY around the basis that the producers and Horikoshi are attempting to lean on any of the other parallels regarding “The Three Musketeer” novels – or if they just thought that The Three Musketeers sounded dope as fuck, let’s throw that on there because there’s three of them, right? Get it?

Which, if that’s the case, then literally most of my theories go right out the damn window and I have no idea what this movie could be about, LMAO!

So… yeah. What do you guys think?? I’d love to hear your ideas – rip this post to fucking shreds if you want to, because there’s like an 87% chance or higher that I’m completely off base with everything I’ve just said and that my over-active imagination clung onto The Three Musketeers relevance and just wouldn’t let go of it and it totally sent me off in the wrong direction, I don’t know! It’s possible, ahahaha!

Anyway

72 notes · View notes

xiyao-feels · 3 years

Text

Nie//yao (MDZS)

So NMJ/JGY is actually getting two versions, because my read on them is wildly different for MDZS vs CQL.

In MDZS I...don't ship it? I mean, there just doesn't seem to be to be anything there at all of a romantic or sexual nature. It's not that they don't care about each other, they clearly do, but it's in a way that is...NMJ as substitute father, JGY as substitute brother, and heavily, heavily inflected by their (current and then former) relationship as superior and subordinate.

Putting this behind a cut because a) it's me explaining at breath length with quotes why I don't think they have a romantic or sexual relationship and I don't want people to have to see that unless they want and b) accordingly it is REALLY LONG and I also don't want to clutter people's dashes, so.

Actually backing up a step, I don't see MDZS NMJ as being attracted to anyone, that's not really specific to JGY. I tend to read him as aspec, tbh. So theoretically he could have romantic feelings about JGY without being attracted to him—I think he may have some quasi-romantic feelings for LXC, though I don't think he conceptualizes it that way—but... honestly, it's not really clear to me that he even likes JGY as a person.

I'm not saying he doesn't like JGY! He clearly does, at least before MY tricks him and flees. But it doesn't seem to have anything to do with MY's personality, as opposed to like—MY being really competent and conducting himself well.

Some quotes about what exactly NMJ values about JGY:

'Nie MingJue interrupted him, “I promoted you not because I wanted you to give back anything out of gratitude. I simply thought that you should stay in this position, since you are capable enough and your conduct is to my liking. If you really want to pay me back, just kill a few more of those Wen-dogs on the battlefield!”'

'After [Meng Yao] left [for Langya], Nie MingJue switched to another deputy. Wei WuXian, however, felt that the new one was always a few beats slower. Meng Yao was an unusually clever talent. He could understand what wasn’t said, and perform to the best with the simplest orders. He was efficient and never slacked. Anyone used to him wouldn’t be able to refrain from comparing him with others.'

'Nie MingJue was never close to people. He rarely opened up to anyone. Though he finally managed to obtain a competent, trustworthy subordinate, whose character and capabilities he approved, he found that the subordinate’s true colors were nothing like what he had thought they were. It was only natural that his reaction was so extreme.'

'Wei WuXian had once found it strange as well. Ever since Meng Yao betrayed the QingheNie Sect, the relationship between Nie MingJue and him hadn’t been the same as before. Then why did they later become sworn brothers? From his observations, aside from how Lan XiChen brought it up, having always hoped that the two would reconcile, the most important factor was probably the gratitude of saving his life and writing the letters. To be precise, in his past battles, he had more-or-less depended on the information that Meng Yao sent over through Lan XiChen. He still thought that Jin GuangYao was a talented person whom one would rarely come upon, and intended on leading him back onto the right path. However, Jin GuangYao wasn’t his subordinate anymore. Only after they became sworn brothers would he have the status and the position to urge Jin GuangYao, like how he disciplined his younger brother, Nie HuaiSang.'

Jin GuangYao spoke with dejection, “But, Brother, didn’t you hear what he said in the oath? Every sentence meant something more. ‘Face a thousand accusing fingers, be torn from limb to limb’—this was clearly a warning for me. I… I’ve never heard of such an oath before.”

Lan XiChen replied in a gentle voice, “He said ‘if one were to think otherwise’. Do you think otherwise? If not, then why should you worry over it so much?"

Jin GuangYao, “I don’t, but Brother has already decided that I do, so what can I do?”

Lan XiChen, “He has always cherished your talent, hoping that you would choose the right path.”

You might notice a recurring theme here: there's a lot of focus JGY's competence and conduct. But anything about who JGY is as a person? Not so much.

They clearly had a good superior/subordinate relationship going on, albeit one in which NMJ was missing a lot of context (see just behave well and show people up, plus the you're missing a solid foundation thing). But it does seem to be basically professional. WWX describes them as conversing "peaceably, even impressively" in contrast to "his future self, always being scolded by Nie MingJue" and "those jokes of how 'LianFang-Zun fled whenever he heard that ChiFeng-Zun arrived,'" and.... that's kind of it. The closest we get to them as friends is them talking together with LXC after NMJ tells MY he will give him a letter of recommendation and send him to his father; as WWX describes it, "The three chatted back and forth, at times serious, yet at times light. The conversation was much more relaxed than when they had been in the living room. Listening to their chatter, Wei WuXian often wanted to get a word in as well, yet he was unable to do so."

That's definitely not nothing! But it's also the most we ever get, only shows up the once, and is explicitly contrasted with their conversation from earlier. Moreover, I'm pretty sure LXC's presence is a necessary part of things; NMJ tends to respond differently to LXC than to other people (even just earlier in this chapter, we're told that while "Nie MingJue had never been one for humour," "in front of Lan XiChen his expression eased"), and WWX explicitly notes LXC's conversation skills in the context of this conversation: "At this point in time, their relationship really isn't bad. Zewu-Jun is actually quite good at holding conversations, so why is Lan Zhan so bad at it?"

In addition, I'd say that looking at the early part of that conversation is quite telling; while LXC and MY are sitting together as equals, MY stand up at once the moment NMJ interrupts, and doesn't sit even after NMJ tells him to do so (I think he probably does take a seat at some point, but the narrative doesn't actually tell us when). Moreover, MY seems to be worried that NMJ will be offended by a possible lack of gratitude on MY's part ("Sect Leader Nie, if you heard everything, then you should've also heard me say that..."), and the only objection he expresses to leaving is precisely that he owes NMJ a debt of gratitude, not anything to do with, like, missing him. To me all the evidence suggests that while they had a close relationship, it was not a /personal/ relationship, but fundamentally one of superior and subordinate.

(For a close read of the scene where NMJ, LXC and MY are talking together, I highly recommend @confusion-and-more's post here)

Moving on, let's look at after JGY becomes JGY. They don't seem to particularly spend time together with each other, certainly not for the sake of it. There's a brief moment at the Flower Banquet where NMJ asks JGY why he's wasting his time with XY (who has not at this point in time committed his crime, he just has a reputation), but after JGY makes his excuse and scurries away, NMJ turns away and doesn't seem to seek him out or even pay him any particular attention for the rest of the scene; he only shows up once more, and that's following WWX. (And although JGY-as-replacement-NHS would be a post all on its own, I do think it's interesting to note that the exchange about XY is immediately followed by LXC and LWJ coming over, described in a way that highlights both their impressiveness and their status at brothers—their Twin Jade-ness, one might say.) During the guqin scene, NMJ only speaks once, and it's to address LXC—to protest the inappropriateness of LXC leaking exclusive Lan techniques. When JGY shows up to play the guqin for him the first time, NMJ asks JGY "what did you come here for," which suggests that NMJ is not generally expecting JGY to come by without a specific, concrete reason. The closest they ever seem to get after JGY becomes JGY is during these guqin-playing sessions, and as WWX describes it, "when playing the guqin, the way that the two conversed and got along even had a hint of the peace they had before they fell out"—which is certainly better than there being no peace at all, but which I think suggests there's still at least some tension, given that it's only a "hint."

Now, NMJ certainly cares about JGY, both in the sense of desiring his well-being, at first, and absolutely in the sense of being emotionally invested in him—even after his death, as a fierce corpse his only desire is to kill Jin Guangyao. But while they had a close superior-subordinate relationship—certainly NMJ seems to have felt close to MY—at no point was it a close personal relationship, and I don't think that NMJ even liked JGY (or MY, I'm using the name expansively) as a person, let alone was in love with him.

But mostly so far I've been focusing in NMJ's feelings. What about JGY? Is /he/ in love with NMJ?

Once again, I just don't read him that way. This isn't to say he didn't care for NMJ—he absolutely did! He goes to quite significant lengths to save his life from WRH in the Sun Palace, including quite a lot of risk to MY himself—I analyze that in a lot more depth in the first part of my post here, if you're interested, though I will also note now that he specifically sent for LXC to help NMJ. (You'll have to scroll down some; I'm responding to someone else's post.) Afterwards, he kneels to NMJ and apologizes, I think sincerely, for hurting him and for invoking his pain about his father's death. He certainly conceives of himself as owing a debt of gratitude to NMJ for recognizing him, and he's so overcome when NMJ offers to send him to his father with a letter of recommendation, saying that he didn't promote MY so that MY would owe him, that he quite remarkably can't even find words. NMJ meant a lot to him, and so did NMJ's not defining him in terms of his birth—until he did, of course, at the stairs kick incident. But as far as I can tell, there's nothing to suggest he has /romantic feelings/ for NMJ, and frankly—how can I put this—it does not at all surprise me that JGY isn't in love with someone with a violent temper who is noted at least twice to react to people explaining themselves when he is angry with even more anger, and that's even without the thing where he nearly killed JGY on multiple occasions and called him the son of a prostitute.

No, I think JGY's emotional journey with NMJ goes through three stages: first, he's deeply grateful to him and respects him a great deal, although he's also aware of NMJ's lack of awareness of certain social realities (see: the teacup scene, NMJ yelling at the other Nie cultivators about their treatment of MY and telling MY not to worry as long as his conduct is upright); second, after Sun Palace, still gratitude and respect but also a mounting frustration with his lack of awareness of the implications of JGY's social position and his hypocrisy re: acceptable violence; finally, after the stairs kick when NMJ kicks him down the stairs, almost kills him, and tells him what else can be expected from the son of a prostitute, he is completely done with NMJ, but is still very much scared of him. The gratitude, I've discussed; the frustration, I think is fairly obvious in the speech he gives back to NMJ at the stairs. But I think the fear is often undervalued, so I'm going to pull a bunch of quotes again:

Meng Yao shrunk immediately after his previous outburst. Watching Baxia slash toward him, he sprinted off at once, scared lifeless. Of the two, one striked with madness and the other fled with madness. Both staggered, still soaked in blood. In such amusing circumstances, as Wei WuXian chopped at the future Chief Cultivator, in his heart he split his sides laughing. He thought that if not for how Nie MingJue was under heavy injuries and lacked spiritual power, Meng Yao would probably have been dead already.

Baxia’s strikes were so menacing that Shuoyue had to unsheath. Lan XiChen stopped him, half to support his figure and half to block his attacks, “MingJue-xiong, calm down! Why bother?”

Nie MingJue, “Why don’t you ask what he did?!”

Lan XiChen turned around to look at Meng Yao, his face was full of terror. He stammered as if he didn’t dare speak.

Nie MingJue remained silent, while Baxia and Shuoyue continued. Meng Yao took a glimpse at the glares from the clashes of the saber and the sword, his gaze full of fear. After a while, however, he still took a step forward. He kneeled to Nie MingJue.

A moment later, Nie MingJue still raised his saber. Lan XiChen, “MingJue-xiong!”

Meng Yao shut his eyes. Lan XiChen also tightened his grip on Shuoyue, “Please excuse…”

Before he could finish his sentence, the silver light of the blade slashed down violently, onto a boulder on the side.

Meng Yao flinched from the thunder of the boulder splitting apart. Looking over, he saw that it had been sliced into two halves, from the top to the bottom.

Jin GuangYao nodded. Xue Yang had been infamous ever since he was young. Wei WuXian clearly felt Nie MingJue’s brows knit even tighter. He spoke, “Why are you wasting your time with such a person?”

Jin GuangYao, “The LanlingJin Sect recruited him.”

He didn’t dare to protest any further. Excuse being that he needed to care for the guests, he scurried to the other side.

[part of his speech to NMJ at the stairs] You think that I should be afraid of nothing? Well I'm afraid of everything, even other people!

Within the temple, three people called Nie MingJue’s corpse ‘Brother’ but the three tones were drastically different. Jin GuangYao’s face was full of a drowning fear. His entire body began to shiver. No matter dead or alive, the person Jin GuangYao was most scared of was none but this sworn brother of his whose temper tolerated no evil. As his body shivered, his hands shivered as well, and the bloody guqin string he clutched tightly in his hand also began to shiver.

Clenching his teeth, Jin GuangYao struck a few acupoints of his arm. Amidst the dizziness that came from a loss of blood, he suddenly saw Nie MingJue walk a step towards him, his eyes locked on him. He was immediately half-dead with fear.

Collapsed beside Lan XiChen, Jin GuangYao saw this scene as well. Whether because the bleeding and the pain intensified at his arm and stomach or from some other reason, the glisten of tears could be seen in his eyes. But before he had a chance to catch his breath or lick his wounds, Nie MingJue turned around after he pulled his fist back and stared hungrily in his direction.

The harsh, stern expression on his rigid face held a sense of judgement that was no different from before he died. Even his tears had been scared away as Jin GuangYao turned to Lan XiChen for help, his voice trembling, “Brother…”

I think the stuff with, you know, handling NMJ's fierce corpse and hanging onto his head is often viewed as evidence of JGY's continued emotional investment in NMJ, but... I don't really think so? First of all, NMJ's fierce corpse is completely obsessed with killing JGY. I'll spare you another round of quotes on that because this is already ridiculously long and because it's not at all subtle—it's all over the temple chapters, take a look! And second of all—well, there's ways of getting information from a corpse. In this case, NMJ's resentful energy is so strong that without the protection of his body, papernan WWX is actually sucked into NMJ's memories against his will! Sure, maybe no one would risk it, and maybe no one who risked it would survive, but especially given that NMJ's fierce corpse is completely obsessed with killing JGY, that's a heck of a risk to take. And look at the description of the protections around NMJ's head:

Suddenly, Wei WuXian noticed that one of the shelves were blocked by a curtain. The curtain was covered in sinister, blood-red runes. It was a talisman of forbiddance, one of extreme power.

Jin GuangYao walked over and lifted the curtain.

For a split second, Wei WuXian thought that he had been exposed. After the faint firelight made its way through the curtain, he found that he was enveloped in a shadow. A circular object just happened to be in front of him.

Jin GuangYao stood still, as though he was staring into the eyes of whatever was inside this shelf.

After a moment, he spoke, “Were you the one looking at me?"

Of course, there couldn’t be any response. He was silent for a while, then let down the curtain.

Wei WuXian quietly attached himself to the object. Cold and hard, it seemed to be a helmet. He then turned to the front. As he had expected, he saw a pallid face. The one who sealed the head wanted it to see nothing, hear nothing, speak nothing, and so incantations had been crowded onto the waxen skin. The eyes, the ears, and the mouth were all sealed tightly shut.

There's containment, it's suppressed to all hell and back, and JGY quite justifiably expects it to be murderously obsessed with him, but to me it doesn't suggest a reciprocal obsession—just more fear.

I'll also note that as a strategy for containing the information about his own involvement it's a very successful operation! It failed in the end /eventually/, but the failure needed:

someone who could successfully break into his private treasure room and escape without being caught

who could also perform Empathy or a similar tecnnique on NMJ's head and survive it

who could successfully recreate from memory the altered Empathy song

whom LXC would be willing to listen to

That's a heck of a tall order!

As to being done with NMJ after the stairs, well, listen to what he says to LXC:

[...]

Jin GuangYao, “It’s not that I don’t know what’s right and what’s wrong, but that sometimes I really can’t help. Nowadays, I have it bad no matter which side I’m on. I have to ensure that I’m on everyone’s good sides. I wouldn’t care if it were someone else, but have I mistreated our eldest brother in any way? Brother, you heard as well. What did he call me?”

[...]

Jin GuangYao was almost sobbing, “If he could say such a thing when he was angry, then just how does he think of me on a daily basis? Is it that because I couldn’t choose my background, because my mother couldn’t choose her fate, I’ll have to be humiliated by others throughout my whole life? If so, then how is Brother different from the people who look down on me? No matter what I do, in the end, just a sentence and I’m ‘the son of a prostitute’.”

And then of course there's what he says to LXC, in his speech to him at the end: "You, on the other hand, ZeWu-Jun, Sect Leader Lan, are as intolerant of me as Nie MingJue—you refuse to spare me even a single breath of life!"

So—wow, this got very long—I don't ship them, and although I think they have very much mattered emotionally to each other, I don't really see them as ever having been in love with or attracted to each other.

A couple of end notes:

In MDZS, NMJ isn't the first (non-MS) person who recognizes MY's worth, although he is the first person to promote him; by the time NMJ promotes MY MY has already met, rescued, and exchanged intimate confidences with LXC, who respects him greatly and thinks he is highly talented (see again the conversation in Hejian which NMJ overhears/eavedrops on).

I've seen people talk about them not understanding each other, but while NMJ certainly doesn't understand JGY, it's not at all obvious that the reverse is true; he generally seems to understand him pretty well. I think he has two surprises overall: first, that he wasn't expecting NMJ to say he didn't promote MY so MY would owe him, and volunteer to send him to his father with a letter of recommendation—and second, he wasn't expecting NMJ, who for all his flaws did seem to ignore JGY's background in good ways as well as bad, to call him the son of a prostitute.

I definitely don't read the coffin at the end as romantic. Or I mean, uh, there's the romance of an obsessive stalker-murderer finally getting his victim, and that's not nothing (unironically; look, I'm a Hannibal fan), but I don't think it's usually what people mean. This is a shitty end for JGY, part of how thoroughly he loses and is destroyed. I think to some extent it might be that he doesn't want LXC to be the one who killed him, and to some extent it's an act of defiance—now that he has nothing to lose, not even his life, he's going to go out fighting. I would expand on this but this post is ridiculously long and I have way too many quotes, maybe I'll do it in a separate post later on—but if you look at the description of it in the text, plus the subsequent description of it in the coffin...yeah. JGY didn't want to die, he didn't want to be engaged in a mutually destructive thing with NMJ; he wanted to leave NMJ behind in the past, and move on. It's not, for him any kind of fulfillment, is my read.

All quotes are taken from the Exiled Rebels translation: ch 48-50 for everything about NMJ and JGY's past relationship, ch. 47 for the description of JGY's containment measures for NMJ's head, and ch. 106-108 for the quotes about JGY's fear of NMJ's fierce corpse. The description of JGY going into the coffin is at the end of 108 if you want to have a look, and there's more in 109 and 110 about the difficulty of sealing NMJ's fierce corpse/its power and violence.

#ship meme #ship negativity #this is so goddamn long #how many quotes can I fit in one post? dear god #also there's no way the coffin is actually staying shut for 100 years see ch. 113 #also I didn't want to rely on material that isn't in the final text but if you do look at the scene of JGY cutting NMJ's head off #the same theme of NMJ's fierce corpse's murderous obsession + JGY's fear are very much there #also I'm not sure I'd call it a notp exactly? like obviously I don't see it but there are versions of it I can kind of enjoy #but I figured I was being well by all accounts it doesn't make sense enough that I wanted to circle it as like. a warning XP #we can't change places #anger burned in his heart #more than one tag could contain #long meta

27 notes · View notes

theculturedmarxist · 3 years

Link

Good morning it’s Wednesday!

And what a fine day to discuss an unfashionable leftist view of mine. The discussion “racial wealth gap” is a somewhat perverse way to think about the real issue: A relatively small minority of the American population controls a huge share of the wealth, and that small minority is disproportionately white.

You could, in principle, try to ameliorate the resulting racial wealth gap by making the wealthy elite more racially diverse — a strategy that would do nothing to help the vast majority of non-white people. Alternatively, you could try to narrow the gap between rich and non-rich people, which would help the majority of people of all races. The latter approach is better on both substance and politics. So much better that to an extent it raises the question of what’s the point of talking about a “racial wealth gap” as opposed to simply a gap between the wealthy and the non-wealthy?

The wealth gap is about the wealthy

For his master’s thesis, Kevin Carney took a detailed look at the evolution of the black/white wealth gap in the United States and among other things came away with this finding — if you lop off the richest quarter of white people, then suddenly Black and white wealth dynamics over time look very similar.

The infamous destruction of African-American wealth during the subprime mortgage crash, for example, also happened for the majority of white households. The reason the racial wealth gap grew during this period is that rich white people own a lot of shares of stock while everyone else’s wealth is in their homes (if it exists at all).

Another way of looking at this is that while most white people are not members of the economic elite, the economic elite is a very white group of people.

With some help from Matt Bruenig of the People’s Policy Project, I looked at the racial composition of the wealthy elite according to the Fed’s Survey of Consumer Finances:

If you look at the top 10 percent of Americans by wealth, only 2.2 percent of those Americans are Black.

The top 5 percent of Americans by wealth are only 2 percent Black.

The top 1 percent, is only 0.5 percent Black.

Bruenig cautions that when you look at tiny subgroups like the top one percent, you get into sample size issues since the Fed only surveys about 5000 families (he also did an article looking at the numbers from the older SCF that’s worth your time). But it’s plain as day if you look at the numbers that as you go from top ten to top five to four, three, two, one you get a less and less Black group of people while the white percentage goes up and up.

Now some level that “white people are richer than Black people” and “the rich are a very white group of people” are two different ways of saying the same thing.

But I do think the framings lead to someone different ideas. Talking about income rather than wealth, Valerie Wilson and William Rogers found that the black/white economic gap grew between 1979 and 2016 primarily because wage inequality overall grew (see also this discussion in The Grio). You could address that either by trying to create a more egalitarian wage structure or by trying to create a more diverse set of people earning very high salaries even while doing nothing to improve the average person’s pay. Similarly, you could approach the wealth gap issue primarily as a lack of diversity among America’s billionaire class.

Billionaires own a lot of white wealth

According to the Forbes 400 list (an imperfect metric but good enough for a ballpark estimate†), there are seven African-American billionaires who have a combined wealth of $13 billion. These people are all very rich, obviously. But there’s a (white) guy named David Tepper who’s not particularly famous and who Forbes says is worth $13 billion all on his own. And he’s only 41st on the list!

And billionaires collectively own a lot of wealth. Forbes says their top 400 are worth $3.2 trillion, of which less than one percent is owned by Black people. In a statistical sense, this drives a considerable racial wealth gap.

Now on the other hand, it’s not as if the typical white person is a billionaire. Mark Zuckerberg’s vast fortune is not materially benefiting Jared Golden’s constituents in northern Maine or Joe Manchin’s constituents in West Virginia via some magical property of shared whiteness.

Now a right-wing opponent of redistribution might want to do some racecraft to convince tens of millions of working class white people that they participate in the wealthy of white billionaires. But it’s often been people on the left perpetuating this idea! Simply redistributing resources from billionaires to the majority of the population would help most white people, and help most Black people, and would also narrow the racial wealth gap.

Diversity or equality?

Going back to Carney’s research, he’s talking about the top 25 percent of the white wealth distribution, which is a much bigger group than just billionaires. But you do see among the mass affluent some of this same impulse to say we need more diversity, rather than more equality. Take for example the town of Hingham in the suburbs of Boston which is getting its own YIMBY group.

Except according to the Boston Globe “the Hingham YIMBY group is not focused on promoting low-income housing, but is instead aimed at increasing the town’s racial diversity.”

Now one point YIMBYs normally make about towns like Hingham is that by excluding new housebuilding and zoning out low-income families, they tend to render themselves very white. Hingham YIMBY’s solution to this is to market the town more heavily to prosperous African-American suburbanites in Greater Boston and encourage them to consider moving to Hingham. And mathematically, they are correct. Hingham is not a large place, so a pure marketing campaign to convince more rich Black people to move there could make it a diverse place.

But look at this land-use in Hingham! The town is home to two MBTA commuter rail stations. One of them abuts a golf course and some underdeveloped land:

The other just abuts a bunch of underdeveloped land:

If you allowed the construction of apartment buildings near those stations, you’d almost certainly improve the diversity of the town. But more to the point, you’d create the opportunity for a bunch of people to live in transit-oriented housing with convenient commuter rail access to the Boston labor market. And if Massachusetts as a whole opted to legalize housing near transit, they could do an enormous amount to grow the state’s economy, raise living standards, and promote sustainable commuting patterns.

Convincing a few affluent Black families to move to Hingham, by contrast, isn’t really going to achieve much of anything.

And that’s the big picture here. Exclusion is bad for racial equity. But that doesn’t mean the solution is to fiddle with the racial equity dial by importing some really rich black people. The solution is for the Bay State to embrace housing growth and adopt international best practices in commuter rail operation. That would create broad prosperity that lifts up the majority of the people in the state and, yes, by doing so, it would also improve racial equity.

By the same token, you could take a Hingham approach to the billionaire problem and say that we need to make the billionaire class more diverse. But while conjuring up four dozen additional Black billionaires would have a impact on our understanding of Black wealth, it would not actually accomplish anything to make life better for the overwhelming majority of Black people. What would do that is the exact same thing as what would make life better for most white people — broad steps to create a less lopsided distribution of economic resources.

Tractable solutions are not “reductionism”

Now please do not read me as saying that there is no racism in America or that class politics is the only thing. We have lots of evidence of racial discrimination in the labor market, in the housing market, in policing and elsewhere.

But the way to tackle those problems would be to tackle them.

For example, there’s solid reason to believe that the relatively straightforward step of conducting more DOJ “pattern or practice” investigations of police discrimination would lead to both less discrimination and fewer murders. And there’s probably a lot the Civil Rights Division could be doing with audits to crack down on housing and labor market discrimination.

But if you’re concerned about the economic disparity between white people and Black people, what you really ought to be concerned with is the disparity between rich people and non-rich people. You obviously don’t want to narrow the gap in an economically destructive way. But if you can find growth-friendly ways to redistribute resources, you mechanically improve the racial gap. And even better, you have a tractable political problem — most voters are white, but most voters are not rich. And white people are overrepresented in the Senate, but rich people are underrepresented. So if you try to build a politics around racial redistribution, you’re just going to lose. But if you try to build a politics around economic redistribution you just might win.

None of this is remotely revolutionary; it’s just long-held conventional wisdom about politics. But the internal dynamics of progressive spaces have shifted in a weird way. Everyone is sensitive to often valid complaints that they’ve slighted racial justice in the past. But instead of dropping their work to refocus on problems that really are distinctively racial, what’s mostly happened is either an effort to give redistributionist ideas new (but less popular) racial framing or else Hingham-esque efforts to achieve a superficial veneer of equity. But the majority of people in all ethnic groups are similarly situated in economic terms, and far and away the best way to make progress on material conditions is to emphasize that rather than reify the whiteness of the billionaire class.

† Thomas Piketty has told me that in his view the Forbes 400 (and similar lists from Bloomberg and other media sources) undercount the wealth of old money heirs who own diverse assets rather than large, easy to spot, stakes in single companies. If he’s right about that, the true super-rich class is even whiter than what Forbes says.

#wealth gap #class analysis #class warfare #capitalism #socialism

28 notes · View notes