#For someone so smart he sure does fail to adapt and change his strategy

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

In the same bed, but not on the same page

[First] Prev <–->Next

[yuikomorii]

hello admin I hope this is not a repeated question and I would be grateful if you could give your opinion on this matter. Who do you think is the smartest boy in DL? Of course, not with regard to academic success, because I don't consider it as a criterion for being smart. Rather, according to the behaviors that these boys have shown so far, in your opinion, which of the 13 boys is the most intelligent?

// L to the A to the I to the T to the O !

And nobody can change my mind because this man is literally scaringly smart and will forever be the most intelligent DL character in my eyes. I will talk about him soon, I just want to get some things straight here.

Grades don’t equal intelligence, therefore I would never judge it solely on someone’s academic success. It’s not that hard getting a good score if you pay attention during class or simply study, so it’s more about effort. I’m speaking from my own experience because I’m one of my university’s top students yet there are classmates who are undoubtedly smarter than me or than the teachers themselves.

To be honest, in my opinion, the "big brain" DL boys aren't nearly as intelligent as they’re described. Sure, they're knowledgeable, but I wouldn't call them geniuses. Writers will make a character appear intelligent by having everyone else act stupid or oblivious. For example, in LE and CL, it took them 1000 years to realize that Kino, the new, mysterious guy they know nothing about, was the one causing them problems, and they were surprised despite the fact that it was obvious. I should also point out that their plans and strategies aren't particularly good; it's just that the writers will make them appear to be successful. If they gave the same plan to a seemingly stupid Diaboy, they would make him fail and face consequences.

Furthermore, it irritates me that they are constantly attempting to humiliate Yui with things they are proficient in. They test her with cubes, puzzles, musical instruments, and books in foreign languages she doesn't speak, such as Latin and German. They are aware Yui isn't the brightest, and they can clearly see she lacks knowledge and any talents, so I'm not sure how you, a "genius," would find satisfaction in seeing a seemingly stupid character fail at things stereotypically smart people excel at. Why not, for example, challenge someone of your league? Or are you afraid of failing that way, and you only get that spark from someone weaker than you?

Okay, enough of that, let's get back to Laito. Laito's brain power outperforms everyone else's and he’s not just book smart but he's also extremely street smart.

He's very perceptive and has the best ability to read others. While the big brain boys rely on simple and sometimes obvious deductions, Laito memorizes information about you and will later know how to use it against you to cause you pain. He's a master of gaslighting and convincing; he manipulated Yui into saying and doing things she would never have done otherwise, and he's impossible to trick. Every time Yui tried to be bold in front of him, saying things like "perhaps you’re the one who likes the pain" or "you’re the masochist”, Laito twisted her words so as to make her feel like a bad person, which she believed.

I understand that being manipulative does not always imply being clever, because any human being can manipulate, but Laito is not your average manipulator. To manipulate someone, you must be able to hold a large amount of information in your mind at the same time. A larger brain capacity is required to be a skilled manipulator because you are creating several different scenarios and outcomes prior to and during a conversation with the person you are attempting to manipulate. Laito has a high level of metacognition, which most people do not have, and his brain is quick, creative, adaptable, and can unquestionably be called intelligent.

You can also notice that he says some really meaningful things that Yui and his two brothers can’t understand. His poetic way of speaking isn’t a reason to mislead others or make them feel stupid, but rather he’s merely expressing his thoughts that way. I love those moments when he’s unpredictable and pulls a spontaneous psychological mind game, because I know this man would be able to twist everyone around his little finger if he wanted to, even the big brain boys (no wonder even Carla acknowledged him as intelligent).

However, one of Laito’s flaws is that he got poor emotional control and his trauma makes him perceive some things differently. He’s still dangerously intelligent and the fact his intelligence is so underrated feels unbelievable.

[pomegranates-and-blood]

νοσταλγία (Chapter 44)

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: The usual.

A/N: Hi, hope you like this! Ik I still have a winter blurb request to get to, I’ll probably post it sometime during the week. Thank you!

Btw, ‘mḗtēr’ is Ancient Greek for mother, and barley is a symbol of Demeter. :)

You are sitting on your bed, already dressed for the night, when Ivar comes into your bedroom.

You lift your gaze from your failed attempts at embroidery patterns that Thora makes look so damn easy, and watch Ivar walk closer, his free hand reaching to tug off the cloak over his shoulders.

You don’t miss the angry way he takes it off, or the stronger-than-needed stabs of his crutch against the ground.

He sits down before you on the bed, and you do not hesitate to move close, your legs on either side of him as you rest your brow between his shoulder blades, enjoying the familiar movements of his back as he starts to work on the braces of his legs.

Your arm wrapped around his torso, you let your hand travel up and down his stomach, smiling when he reaches back to put a heavy hand on your leg.

“Will you tell me what is wrong?” You prompt.

“Jarl Olavson was defeated.” He tells you curtly. Your hand stills, and so does your breath.

“Defeated?”

“Yes, defeated,” Ivar bites out, a movement of his head as his shoulders rise and fall with an angry breath. “Considering how we met, you should be very familiar with defeat.”

“Hey,” You chastise, tugging on his hair as reprimand. After a moment, he breathes out through his nose, and his hand tightens on your leg. You take it as an apology, certain none will actually leave his lips. “By whom?

Ivar doesn’t answer.

He should know by now that he says as much with his silences as he does with his words.

If it were King Alfred’s army, he would tell you. If it were any other Vikings that were somehow stupid enough to battle Ivar’s lieutenant in York and lucky enough to defeat him, he would tell you.

He wouldn’t tell you if it were the man he admitted to having in chains and on a moment of irrational impulsiveness, he let go free.

“How did he win? I would think he didn’t have the numbers after Strepshire.”

“He didn’t, not then,” He accepts, finishing taking off the braces of his legs. “But he does now.”

“Do you think his King aids him now?”

“No, it wasn’t Alfred’s army. We would have known if it were.”

You swallow down the pit of worry in your stomach, and move back on the bed, settling under the covers and waiting for your husband to join you.

He does soon after, discarding his shirt without a care for the cold that still bites, and -for reasons beyond the obvious ones- you keep your eyes on him.

You watch as he grabs a fistful of the pants’ fabric to move his legs, and you cannot help but notice the furrow between his brows, you watch his wrist expertly trapped in the chains that dangle above the bed as he settles for bed and you cannot help but linger on the tension that strains his shoulders.

If Stithulf managed to grow in power in such a way during the winter, enough to defeat the commander of York’s forces, most likely forcing him to retreat to the formerly Saxon city, then…even if neither of you would like to admit it, it is Ivar’s fault, and maybe yours.

Ivar let Stithulf go because of the deal you have made, because he wanted more time. Before he left you had to bite your tongue to keep yourself from requesting that of him, and you didn’t bite it when it came time to ask the Gods for the same thing.

And now, warm under the covers and laying on your side as your Ivar lays by your side on his back, pale eyes searching the nothingness of the space above him, you feel the tinge of worry, of regret.

You ran from Fate once, when you decided to go to Eleusis even while aware that the Gods -your own or others, you aren’t yet sure which- summoned you to Scandinavia; and you burned for it. You fought, and you lost, and you died.

You dread to think maybe you ran, maybe Ivar ran.

“Their movements, their…formations,” He stops himself, a twitch of irritation in his nose as he debates with himself whether to speak or not. “They don’t fight like Saxons.”

“They never did,” You offer, quietly. “And if you are right, and most of the Arabs survived…”

He shakes his head, sitting up on the bed once again. You take a moment to watch the outline of him bathed in the low and warm light of the dim fires, before you sit up as well, shuffling closer and bending your legs underneath you.

“It is more than that, it isn’t just the foreigners,” His words die with a frustrated sigh, his left hand closing into a fist before it releases when it doesn’t find the familiar handle of the crutch he can grab tightly onto. Past the clear tell of gritted teeth, he admits, “When we sail back to England, we will be going in blind.”

“You still have time.” You say, but it seems it goes unheard.

“How can I prepare if I can’t…predict him?” He asks, and it isn’t really a question you think he wants an answer to. If he did, all you could offer would be that he would have to fight like the others do, the ones that don’t have his mind that seems to let him get ahead of his enemy’s moves, his eyes that seem to let him foresee his enemy’s plans. But, you don’t say anything, instead resting your chin on his shoulder and letting one of your hands trail down his back. Ivar grits his teeth, and stays silent for a long time. After a while, he turns his head slightly to you, “What would you do?”

“You’re asking me?”

A shrug of the shoulder you’re not resting on, and Ivar offers simply, “Why not?”

“I have never led an army.”

“Your commander did, and he obeyed you.”

You lift your eyebrows, and insist, “He died because of it.”

“I am not planning on doing that,” He clarifies, the beginning of a smile on his lips, “Obeying you, or dying.”

Your eyes narrow at his taunt, and you retort, “Why are you asking me, then?”

“I’m curious.”

“I don’t have any answers. I am not…” You take a breath, and mull over your words before you start again, “One of the things I admired Narses the most far was how he…” A small smile curves at your lips, and you look at the nothingness ahead, somehow able to see clearly in your mind’s eye the cocky smile of the young Strategus as he hooked the spear under his arm and bowed mockingly at you. “He was never caught off guard. He was foolish, and he refused to stick to a plan most of the time, but…with the passing of time I started to think he counted on that, on the lack of a plan. Back in Greece, the battles we won were because of his adaptability, as much as any strategy I could…suggest to him. I insisted on a plan, and he was smart enough to not defy me, s-…”

“I wouldn’t say smart.”

Your lips curve into a smile, and you lift your head off his shoulder to meet his gaze directly. Ivar leans back, falling back on the bed, and you follow, leaning over him as your hand travels up and down his chest.

“What would you say then, love?” You ask, a challenge and something else. You bring yourself closer, “Would you say bewitched?”

You remember being in that small hut in Aneridge, able and willing to forget either of you had names and stories, and daring ask him, are you one to believe Stithulf’s tales that I can bewitch men to their deaths? Blind them and have them follow my every whim?

And, more importantly than that, you remember the way his eyes remained on you, a slow blink as he considered his answer. You remember the tone of his voice that made a shiver run down his spine when he replied, not through magic.

His smile is challenging, mocking, but Ivar shakes his head instead of answering.

“You were speaking of how you won, back in your homeland.”

“He…adapted, a lot. Too often for my liking,” You furrow your nose, and your husband chuckles, his hand warm as it travels up and down the arm you’ve draped over his chest. “My pride kept me from accepting we had to change our tactics, I will admit that. Maybe that arrogance was my downfall.”

Your eyes fall from his, and you almost want to ask, order, don’t let your arrogance be yours.

The words are at the tip of your tongue when the voice of one of Ivar’s guards on the other side of the door startles you.

“Someone is requesting the…the Queen to, uh, meet with them.”

“Is it Rúna’s husband? Is it the baby?” You ask, already scrambling to get out of bed at the mere thought that she is to give birth now. It has been a difficult pregnancy for her, and you’ve given stern orders to her husband to come to you when the time comes for her to deliver.

“No, uh…your mother, my Queen.”

The air is knocked out of you with those words, and you stand unmoving for a few breaths too long. You feel the cold of the floor seeping into your very bones through your bare feet, but you feel rooted to the ground.

A quiet call of your name, and you turn wide eyes to Ivar. He searches your gaze, a strange sort of hesitation in his expression that is probably born out of whatever he sees in yours, and he says your name again.

You blink, swallowing hard.

“Go to her.”

You nod your head, but don’t move for a couple of heartbeats, until you have the cold startle you into movement. Wrapping the robe over your nightdress, you slip into your shoes and step out.

Letting the two guards lead the way to one of the back rooms of the -now deserted- longhouse, you try deciphering if what runs through your veins right now is thrill or dread.

Sieghild stands tall by one of the stone pit fires near that are lined up near the walls, surrounded by seats; her shield not at her back but, as always, close to her. At the sound of your steps, she turns around, the same almost-crooked smile on her face, the familiar face with traces of ink in the shape of the roots of Yggdrasil, the same green eyes of your childhood.

You stumble over your own feet as you run to her, and never before have you felt as time disappeared and you were suddenly a child again as you do then.

“Mḗtēr!”

Sieghild embraces you tightly, with the desperation of having thought you lost forever, the relief at having you back, the anger at your disappearance; strong arms wrapped around you and lifting you a bit off the ground. You breathe a relieved laugh that sounds like a sob, your own arms wrapped as strongly as you can around your mother.

“Little one, you are alright, you are alright.” She whispers, and even if she talks to her own fears and not you, you still nod against her shoulder.

“I thought you were-…”

“I am here, child. The Gods wouldn’t call me to Valhalla while you still need me.”

You look into familiar green eyes and offer a helpless shrug, “I’ll always need you.”

“Then I shall always be here.” She promises, pressing a kiss against your forehead like she did when you were a child.

But you weren’t, your heart bitterly wants to say, words you keep at bay by biting your own tongue.

For now, you close your eyes at the rough touch of Sieghild’s battle-worn hands on the sides of your face, you let her brow press against yours and the familiar scent of iron and the always underlying scent of those fields of barley you would run through with her as a child.

When you step back, you feel the months-old anger come back, you feel the uncertainty and resentment settle over you like a warm cloak, and you meet Sieghild’s eyes, unwavering.

“I would like a word with my mother.” You state, keeping your gaze on her. You watch as our mother watches the people leave the room, watching out of the corner of her eye as the last of the men closes the door behind him.

She turns to you with a smile that is in part mocking and in part proud.

“I always did say you were Fated to rule, did I not?”

Many times she told you that, usually angrily, when what she stubbornly calls your ‘Athenian nobility’ shines through.

Galla spares you a glance out of the corner of her eye, the faintest quirk of a smile on her lips, her words a tease and something else as she quips, “Born with a crown on her head, this one.”

Many others have implied the same, sometimes in praise and often in reprimand.

Ivar meets your eyes, an unwavering edge to his madness, a darkness to the curve of his smile, as he promises, “Don’t lie to me, Priestess. You were made to rule, to command. Don’t pretend otherwise with me.”

You shake your head, “Fate has nothing to do with it.”

“Doesn’t it?” She retorts, but it isn’t a question she expects an answer to. Instead, the shieldmaiden strides to the seats by the dimmest hearth in the room. She always has done that, ever since Eleusis, making sure you aren’t near open flames that make your skin crawl.

You walk to her, hands folded in front of you, and take a seat before her.

“You gave me up. You arranged for me to marry Ivar, and you never told me.”

A deep breath, like she was expecting this, and Sieghild leans back, a hard nod of her head.

“I did,” She offers no other explanation for a few moments, before adding, “I had my reasons.”

“Which are?”

Her eyes narrow as she looks you over, a quirk in her mouth that speaks not of a smile but of something wilder, and Sieghild’s voice is icy when she asks,

“Who do you think you are, to demand anything from me?”

Your answer is unwavering, and you don’t even think twice about the words that are to leave your lips, “Your daughter.”

Sieghild holds your gaze for a few breaths, before looking away with a grunt and the clear tell of gritted teeth. She was expecting something else out of your answer, the years alongside her let you see that in that small gesture.

A twitch in her nose, furrowed for only a moment, and Sieghild offers, voice unusually quiet,

“I told you since you were a child about the path the Gods, yours or maybe mine, had woven for you,” Green eyes pierce into yours, and for a moment you are saying goodbye again, in the outskirts of Aneridge and by the gates of Eleusis. She swallows, and continues, “You ran once, and I lost you, I had to leave you behind and let those damned Christians burn you alive. I couldn’t let you run again.”

“That is why you asked me,” You state, not even a question. The night she left you behind on the edge of that forest plays behind your closed lids with striking vibrance. “You took me there and told me we were at a crossroads, the…the world between worlds. I chose to stay.”

“It was Fate you did so.” She retorts with a sigh.

And that word grates at your ears. It always has, ever since you have had memory.

Your eyes fall shut, and you take a deep breath to remain calm.

“You know, with time passing I had forgotten how much I hate that word leaving your lips,” You grumble, mostly to yourself. Sieghild still chuckles, but it is dimmer than usual. The errant thought that maybe you don’t know what the usual is for your mother anymore crosses your head, but you dismiss it easily enough. Finding your strength, your anger, you meet her gaze and with your head held high you insist, “You cannot hide behind Fate, mother.”

For all the times she has accused you of your own fair share of arrogance, few times she has admitted you take after her in that regard. Now, more than any other time, her own arrogance, her own pride, are apparent in the way she bristles at your words, suddenly sitting straighter.

“I don’t hide, little one. You know that.”

You shake your head, at her resolve, at her unwavering certainties, at her abandonment. Your eyes wide, you lift a hand and point a finger at her, too late realizing that is a gesture you have seen often in the man you married.

“Fate didn’t chain me to Ivar’s side until you made a deal with him!” Your voice thunders at the same time it breaks and you do not care. Your lip curls into a snarl, or maybe something more fragile, something more broken. “You fulfilled what you were told was Fate, because you believed it was inescapable.”

“And you stayed behind to die in Eleusis because you wanted to fight Fate,” She retorts, green eyes blazing. “How is that any different?”

“It was my choice.”

“And it was my choice to send you to Kattegat.”

You hate the way your lower lip trembles, the way sorrow wants to overpower pride, and succeeds.

You furrow your lips, raising your chin as you insist, “You abandoned me.”

“I did what I should have when you were younger. I saved you.”

Your nails dig into your palms, and you stand up. The chair makes a horrible sound against the wooden floor, and you pace away from the table, shaking your head to yourself.

Your mother follows you with a challenge shining in her green gaze.

“You didn’t save me.”

“You are alive, you are safe. I wouldn’t ask for anything more.” She crosses broad arms over her chest, head titled to the side.

You feel your lip curling into a snarl, your hands trembling at your sides as the anger that burns in your blood demands you do something.

Voice thundering, you demand, “I would have!”

“And you would have died for it!” Sieghild barks back, voice rising as well. “You think you would have survived Stithulf if it weren’t for that boy, huh? You think that damn Christian would have kept you alive for much longer?”

You shake your head, feeling like a chastised child under her burning green gaze.

“Ivar isn’t the reason I survived.”

“He kept you safer than I ever could, even if he didn’t realize it, even if you don’t like accepting it, little one,” She retorts, standing and walking closer. “You are arrogant, but you are also smart. You know it is true.”

You shake your head, stepping back.

“You didn’t tell me, you just left me behind in that place, and I-I was alone, and…” Your eyes fall shut and you find yourself almost compulsively twirling your wedding ring as you try finding resolve again. Without opening your eyes, you take a deep breath and ask, “Why come back now?”

“I told you to survive until spring came, I knew we’d be together again after the winter,” She tells you, quietly, almost mournfully. “Even if you hated me, even if you hate me now…what I did, I did for you. To keep you alive, to let you have a future.”

“All my life, I-…” You furrow your lips, consider your words and start again, “You more than anyone knows how important it is for me to be…free. Free to choose, free to…be. You took that from me, you let Ivar take that from me.”

But Sieghild doesn’t falter, even if her eyes give away more than she would like to admit.

“It is a privilege to be able to live life in the way you have, little one. To never have your beating heart be the only thing that you can count on, that you can call your own. The truth is that there is no reason for freedom without life, not the other way around,” Strong arms crossed over her chest, your mother insists, “Between seeing you in chains and seeing you on a grave, I know which I prefer.”

“Does it matter which I prefer?”

Her silence is enough of an answer, and you sit back down on your chair, twirling your wedding ring on your finger. You notice the way your mother’s eyes travel to the movement, but if she has anything to say about it, she keeps it to herself for now.

“When you love someone, someone that you know will go where you cannot follow once death touches them…” She starts, slowly, deliberately. “Is there anything you wouldn’t do to keep them alive? Keep them with you?”

“I never tried keeping you, or anyone, from your dear Valhalla.”

A quirk of her mouth, humorless and challenging, as she sits back down as well, “I taught you to lie, don’t try it with me.”

“I’m not-…”

“Four years ago, on the outskirts of Circe, you did what you had promised you wouldn’t do. Do you remember, little one?”

You bite your lip to keep it from trembling, as you take in your mother’s pale features, “You could have died.”

“And what glorious death it would have been,” Sieghild retorts, not missing a beat. Her smile is wry, tired, but still irrevocably hers. “Better than whatever awaits me in this bed, that’s for sure.”

“You won’t die here either.”

“I better not,” She warns, closing her eyes. You are worried about the sunken look on her face. Your leg bobs up and down anxiously and you feel your fingers fidgeting as you itch to get to work on making something, anything, that will make it better. “To be robbed of a chance to enter Valhalla because my child is too stubborn t-…”

“Valhalla cannot have you yet!” You snap, blinking past the burning in your eyes when Sieghild opens her eyes to meet your gaze. “Your Gods cannot have you yet, I-I need you with me.”

“Of course I remember.” You retort, gritting your teeth. She has always had this infuriating way of hers of deliberately and obviously guiding you with questions to say what she wants you to, to admit what you refuse to.

“What I did was no different. You dragged me from the battlefield and insisted on delaying the inevitable by tending to my wounds, because you didn’t want to lose me. Even if it cost me what I live and fight for, you want-…”

“You Varangians and your glorious deaths,” You groan, rolling your eyes, “You lived. You lived to fight in another battle and die another day.”

“And you lived to see yourself free once more.”

“It is not the same.”

“Explain why, then.”

That gesture, it is the same as the life that once was all you had known, of her routinely throwing a stick your way, smoothing the ground with her boot and demanding an explanation for the newest battle you had witnessed, or the latest historical one that you had been drawn to.

You sigh, tired beyond what you think you could express with words, “Mother.”

Sieghild considers you for a moment, gaze travelling over your features, taking you in as if a stranger. Maybe you are, in some ways.

She softens after a breath, shoulders lowering as she takes a deep breath.

“I…I had a dream, the Gods showed me that when the ground was softened, when the earth thawed, you’d be returned to me. So, I was certain I would find you once spring came.”

There’s a part of you that tries thinking of it all and tries making all the pieces make something that makes sense, and that part whispers that the Gods let Sieghild see that spring would see you returned to her because it was when spring came that you would make your choice, that you would be free to leave Ivar. That part of you has a heart that beats along the cadence of all the prophecies and half-coherent visions that have plagued you and others, that part of you feels like blind eyes looking directly into yours and bloodstained lips whispering you will not find your belonging amongst flowers.

But that part of you is trying to accept a world where somehow what has happened, what you have lost and what you have suffered, has a reason. It cannot have a reason, it cannot be inevitable.

So, you search your mother’s gaze and ask,

“Why spring?”

“We can set sail away from here now that the season allows it,” She replies easily, and you lean back in your seat, irrationally stunned. Sieghild raises her brows, “Have you already forgotten all that was keeping you here was the harshness of winter?” Your eyes lower from hers, and Sieghild takes a breath, “Ah, but it isn’t the season what keeps you here now.”

You shrug, reaching for the bread and picking out a piece with your fingers as you mumble, “You were the one to tell me all my life that my Fate lied in Kattegat.”

“Many would say your Fate is to fight for Greece.”

You lift your gaze to hers, head tilted to the side.

“My Fate would be to rule over it,” You correct her, and the lines on your mother’s face deepen when she smiles. “But I have no interest in doing so.”

Sieghild looks you over, green eyes shining with something you could swear looks like pride. Eventually she leans back, an arm stretched over the back of her seat and her head tilted to the side.

“You will be staying in Kattegat then?”

You bring the piece of bread to your mouth, offering another shrug, “It is my home.”

“Kattegat is?” She drawls out the words, lifting her brows. Your eyes narrow as you are put on the spot, and there is no hiding the bite in your tone when you ask,

“Why do you ask questions you know the answer to?”

Your mother shrugs, “It entertains me.”

There’s a sigh making its way past your lips before you can stop it, an exasperated but fond one. In the look you and Sieghild share there are more words than either of you would ever dare to say aloud, and you lean back in your seat, picking another piece of the bread.

“Where were you all this time?”

“With King Angantyr of the Black Danes, mostly,” She chuckles to herself, “All the way in England they speak of Ivar the Boneless’ witch, you know.”

“As long as men have tongues to speak, they will speak lies,” You offer around a shrug, words that were of someone you met along the Silk Roads, and though you do not remember their face, you remember their wisdom, and you know your mother does too. Still, she narrows her eyes, almost suspicious, and you clarify, “I am no witch, mother.”

“But you are his.” She sentences.

“Only because he is mine as well.”

Her eyes shine with a glint you haven’t seen in years when she smiles, and you find yourself smiling back, heart lighter.

After a breath, your mother leans forward and quietly asks, “Do you trust him?”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“Of course I do.”

The shieldmaiden nods once, and takes a deep breath, “We have matters of war to discuss then, you and I. Your husband too.”

You frown, and when she stands up you do the same. Your mother simply starts walking, long strides towards the front of the longhouse. You scramble to catch up, asking questions as you go,

“What? Why?”

“I had a plan, you see. I didn’t come to Kattegat now on a whim.”

“You are hiding something.”

“Not for long. I had counted on using this…information to our advantage if you were to decide to leave, but…” She looks at you out of the corner of her eye, “Plans change, little one.”

____ ____ ____

Thank you for reading, hope you liked it!

I have a lot of fun writing Sieghild, she’s like the Priestess without the snobbiness lol. Main example of how much fun I have writing her being the length of this chapter lol, sorry. But yeah, they had (have) a lot of things to work through, though they are, much like the Reader and Freydis, on very different world perceptions when it comes to the issues they’ve discussed, so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @heavenly1927​ @toe-vind-ek-jou @xbellaxcarolinax​ @angelofthorr​ @samsationalwilson​ @peachyboneless @1950schick​ @punkrocknpearls @ietss​ @itsmysticalmystery​ @revolution-starter​ @the-a-word-2214​  @fae-sedai​  @crazybunnyladysworld​    @funmadnessandbadassvikings @stupiddarkkside​ @aprilivar​ @msrawog  

[coin-river-blog]

Ideally, governance involves both public and private spheres to maintain adaptability and transparency. DAOs are great for transparency, but not so much for adaptability. Holacracy is great for adaptability, but not so much for transparency. LeapDAO thinks a combination of the two might be the answer.

The DAO in LeapDAO (formerly PARSEC Labs) doesn't stand for decentralized autonomous organization; it stands for decentralized adaptive organization, an experimental new organizational structure that seeks to fuse holacracy with decentralized, on-chain governance to maximize the benefits and minimize the drawbacks of each.

In early 2018, PARSEC Labs began operating as a holacracy, a non-hierarchical organizational structure attempting to foster self-management and adaptability. For the time being, LeapDAO is still a holacracy with no substantial integration of on-chain governance; the name change from PARSEC Labs seems to be more reflective of purpose than product at this point. "The change in self-governance has made us aware that we have a responsibility to govern the Plasma chain that we are creating," wrote LeapDAO's Johann Barbie in a recent blog post.

ETHNews recently got the opportunity to sit down with Barbie, who first proposed the decentralized adaptive organization. In our conversation, he described the concept in terms of how existing government structures balance the need for adaptability and agile decision-making with the need for those decisions to reflect public interests. He said:

"If you look at governments, right, they often have two organs. They have a private, synchronous sphere where representatives have meetings, they negotiate, they make decisions. And then there's also this public sphere [where when people are unhappy,] they can take to the streets, protest, throw stones at the windows, storm the parliament and say, 'You're out.' And if you remove that second part, it's really dangerous because then the first part [becomes a repressive dictatorship]. So you always need that second part for the first part to work.

"I kind of see the DAO as the public sphere and holacracy as the private sphere. We need a synchronous space where we can act fast and, you know, be agile like a startup. And we need an outer atmosphere where we can get the opinion of everyone, take it into account, and make sure that we don't separate from the views of the general public and still deliver value to them."

Why On-Chain Governance Alone Won't Cut It

Blockchain-based decentralized organizations are a great idea, in theory. They propose a solution, or at least a workaround, to some serious challenges many people attempting to run businesses face: cross-border payments, bureaucracy, government overreach and oppression, and inadequate and corrupt banking systems.

In terms of LeapDAO, a decentralized organization fits with the ethos Barbie outlined in his blog post:

"We believe the public good we are creating can only be sustained with a large number of diverse stakeholders. Everyone should be able to participate to keep the Plasma chain as open as the Ethereum network itself and as aligned with the purpose of Ethereum as possible."

Barbie says that the opportunity for public participation is important to LeapDAO because it sees its scaling solutions as a public good. If what the LeapDAO team builds is to be widely used by and beneficial to the public, it's in their interest to be transparent about their decision-making and consider user demands.

But DAOs have some issues.

In a well-known blog post by Vlad Zamfir published last year through Medium, Zamfir laid out his skepticism of on-chain governance, saying, "Blockchain governance is not a design problem." Instead, he sees it as a process that requires significant coordination, information sharing, negotiating, and politicking. These things are best done through forums and synchronous meetings where real communication can take place.

LeapDAO agrees. Its proposal for a decentralized adaptive organization also cites the shortcomings of strictly on-chain governance:

"The rules that we can encode on blockchains are limited, they can not interpret the purpose of the organization or translate it into actions or strategies. Much less they can make judgments about values or integrity. For effective execution, human leadership and teamwork is required."

Holacracy as Means for Non-Hierarchical Agility and Leadership

Implicit in LeapDAO's proposal for the integration of holacracy in blockchain-based governance is the belief that human leadership and synchronous coordination might be helpful, or even necessary, for agile development, but that doesn't have to mean a compromise to the idealism that drives so many to "buidl" Dapps and organizations on Ethereum. Maintaining focus on decentralization, inclusivity, and egalitarianism in human-run governance just takes a little imagination and an openness to failure.

Holacracy addresses this by offering two important features: forums for discussion about organizational purpose and how to move forward, as well as the empowerment of individuals to quickly adapt and problem-solve.

Whereas in a traditional organizational structure everyone answers to their boss, in a holacratic organization, there are no "bosses" and people are responsible for answering to their self-assigned roles and the clearly defined purpose of the organization. They are responsible for being experts in their roles, for recognizing when change is needed and what should be done to address the issue, and for executing whatever actions they've deemed necessary.

The idea is that if everyone is responsible for their roles and can problem-solve in their area of expertise without the need for constant check-ins and permissions, then the organization can more quickly evolve to market needs. Additionally, in a non-hierarchical structure, there's hypothetically less room for coercion or favoritism.

Further, holacracy specifies clearly defined relationships between roles and forums for coordination and consensus-building around purpose and strategy. There's room for everyone working on their own, and there is also space where everyone comes together (outside of their roles, just as humans working toward a common organizational purpose) to hash things out. It is all very clearly and explicitly baked into the organizational structure.

The Framework of a Decentralized Adaptable Organization

So how does one go about fusing on-chain governance with off-chain holacracy? To be clear, LeapDAO's explanation of its model uses holacracy-specific jargon to describe the vision, but the particulars aren't necessary to understand the idea and import of what LeapDAO is doing. (If you're really compelled by the idea of a decentralized adaptive organization, then I'd encourage a deeper dive into the holacratic model.)

Value-Generating EDCC with a Native Token

LeapDAO's model for a decentralized adaptive organization is, as you'd hope, flexible. Though the team is building this framework for its Plasma chain, it could be repurposed for any number of Dapps and organizations. However, the model does require the existence of an EDCC (aka smart contract) that creates value through user interaction and has a native token. This could be any number of Dapps. The specifics don't matter too much; it's just important that users have skin in the game and tokens to vote with.

The framework around that core contract involves a multisig wallet controlled by the holacratic organization, a contract library where the development team uploads the proposed upgrades, and one or more voting-enabled EDCCs. Again, the specifics would vary between applications, but these are the basic components of the decentralized adaptive organizational model.

Protocol Changes Are Voted On

First, developers submit contract updates to the contract library. These updates are not made to the value-generating EDCC, only held in the library to be enacted later (or not).

At that point, a proposal to enact the contract upgrades held in the library is submitted using the multisig wallet, to which various LeapDAO team members hold a key. A holacratic organization contains a number of semi-autonomous groups responsible for different aspects of the organization's purpose, so requiring someone from each of these groups to sign off on a given proposal is an interorganizational system to ensure and prove consensus between groups. The multisig model also acts to maintain a system of checks and balances within the holacratic organization

Once a proposal has been submitted, token holders use the voting-enabled EDCC to vote whether the changes should go into effect. In LeapDAO's imagining, the voting-enabled contract is coded so that unless a given percentage of votes says otherwise, the proposed changes will automatically go into effect.

More Than Just Code Updates

Code updates are only one small piece of the decentralized adaptive organization pie. LeapDAO also proposes that voting-enabled EDCCs be used to determine the organization's purpose. In a holacracy, organizational purpose is not some amorphous aspiration but is truly the central point around which everyone's roles and responsibilities are determined. This means that token holders have a real say in what gets built. It's notable, though, that in a holacracy, there is a pre-determined process if a situation arises where there is significant tension between a decision-maker's choice and everyone else's preferences.

In a decentralized adaptive organization, EDCCs could also be used to curate what issues are discussed in the off-chain governance meetings dictated by the holacratic organizational structure.

Finally, and perhaps most importantly, voters would have the power to oust LeapDAO from power if they found it necessary. In case the key holders of the multisig wallet fail to submit adequate proposals, the on-chain governance contracts could also be used to endow a new address with that responsibility.

Making It Happen

The official move from PARSEC Labs to LeapDAO only happened about two weeks ago, so the team hasn't had much of an opportunity yet to realize its purpose. At this stage, the team is still working on the particulars of how to upgrade its Plasma contract using the contract library. However, their track record proves agility and dedication to non-hierarchical governance. Since the team's formation about a year and a half ago, they've shifted focus from gaming to scalability, received an Ethereum Foundation scaling grant, made notable progress in buidling, and transitioned from a loosely organized flat organization to a holacratic one.

Barbie admitted that the shift to holacracy presented something of a steep learning curve for PARSEC Labs and that they're still learning, but overall, the structure has encouraged PARSEC's developers to take more initiative and be more communicative and collaborative in the development process. Now we'll just have to wait to see how the vision continues to evolve and what they build.

window.fbAsyncInit = function() { FB.init({ appId : '1761887554082917', xfbml : true, version : 'v2.7' }); }; (function(d, s, id){ var js, fjs = d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0]; if (d.getElementById(id)) {return;} js = d.createElement(s); js.id = id; js.src = "http://connect.facebook.net/en_US/sdk.js"; fjs.parentNode.insertBefore(js, fjs); }(document, 'script', 'facebook-jssdk'));