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fineillsignup · 5 years

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tips for choosing a Chinese name for your OC when you don’t know Chinese

This is a meta for gifset trade with @purple-fury! Maybe you would like to trade something with me? You can PM me if so!

Choosing a Chinese name, if you don’t know a Chinese language, is difficult, but here’s a secret for you: choosing a Chinese name, when you do know a Chinese language, is also difficult. So, my tip #1 is: Relax. Did you know that Actual Chinese People choose shitty names all the dang time? It’s true!!! Just as you, doubtless, have come across people in your daily life in your native language that you think “God, your parents must have been on SOME SHIT when they named you”, the same is true about Chinese people, now and throughout history. If you choose a shitty name, it’s not the end of the world! Your character’s parents now canonically suck at choosing a name. There, we fixed it!

However. Just because you should not drive yourself to the brink of the grave fretting over choosing a Chinese name for a character, neither does that mean you shouldn’t care at all. Especially, tip #2, Never just pick some syllables that vaguely sound Chinese and call it a day. That shit is awful and tbh it’s as inaccurate and racist as saying “ching chong” to mimic the Chinese language. Examples: Cho Chang from Harry Potter, Tenten from Naruto, and most notorious of all, Fu Manchu and his daughter Fah lo Suee (how the F/UCK did he come up with that one).

So where do you begin then? Well, first you need to pick your character’s surname. This is actually not too difficult, because Chinese actually doesn’t have that many surnames in common use. One hundred surnames cover over eighty percent of China’s population, and in local areas especially, certain surnames within that one hundred are absurdly common, like one out of every ten people you meet is surnamed Wang, for example. Also, if you’re making an OC for an established media franchise, you may already have the surname based on who you want your character related to. Finally, if you’re writing an ethnically Chinese character who was born and raised outside of China, you might only want their surname to be Chinese, and give them a given name from the language/culture of their native country; that’s very very common.

If you don’t have a surname in mind, check out the Wikipedia page for the list of common Chinese surnames, roughly the top one hundred. If you’re not going to pick one of the top one hundred surnames, you should have a good reason why. Now you need to choose a romanization system. You’ll note that the Wikipedia list contains variant spellings. If your character is a Chinese-American (or other non-Chinese country) whose ancestors emigrated before the 1950s (or whose ancestors did not come from mainland China), their name will not be spelled according to pinyin. It might be spelled according to Wade-Giles romanization, or according to the name’s pronunciation in other Chinese languages, or according to what the name sounds like in the language of the country they immigrated to. (The latter is where you get spellings like Lee, Young, Woo, and Law.) A huge proportion of emigration especially came from southern China, where people spoke Cantonese, Min, Hakka, and other non-Mandarin languages.

So, for example, if you want to make a Chinese-Canadian character whose paternal source of their surname immigrated to Canada in the 20s, don’t give them the surname Xie, spelled that way, because #1 that spelling didn’t exist when their first generation ancestor left China and #2 their first generation ancestor was unlikely to have come from a part of China where Mandarin was spoken anyway (although still could have! that’s up to you). Instead, name them Tse, Tze, Sia, Chia, or Hsieh.

If you’re working with a character who lives in, or who left or is descended from people who left mainland China in the 1960s or later; or if you’re working with a historical or mythological setting, then you are going to want to use the pinyin romanization. The reason I say that you should use pinyin for historical or mythological settings is because pinyin is now the official or de facto romanization system for international standards in academia, the United Nations, etc. So if you’re writing a story with characters from ancient China, or medieval China, use pinyin, even though not only pinyin, but the Mandarin pronunciations themselves didn’t exist back then. Just... just accept this. This is one of those quirks of having a non-alphabetic language.

(Here’s an “exceptions” paragraph: there are various well known Chinese names that are typically, even now, transliterated in a non-standard way: Confucius, Mencius, the Yangtze River, Sun Yat-sen, etc. Go ahead and use these if you want. And if you really consciously want to make a Cantonese or Hakka or whatever setting, more power to you, but in that case you better be far beyond needing this tutorial and I don’t know why you’re here. Get. Scoot!)

One last point about names that use the ü with the umlaut over it. The umlaut ü is actually pretty critical for the meaning because wherever the ü appears, the consonant preceding it also can be used with u: lu/lü, nu/nü, etc. However, de facto, lots of individual people, media franchises, etc, simply drop the umlaut and write u instead when writing a name in English, such as “Lu Bu” in the Dynasty Warriors franchise in English (it should be written Lü Bu). And to be fair, since tones are also typically dropped in Latin script and are just as critical to the meaning and pronunciation of the original, dropping the umlaut probably doesn’t make much difference. This is kind of a choice you have to make for yourself. Maybe you even want to play with it! Maybe everybody thinks your character’s surname is pronounced “loo as in loo roll” but SURPRISE MOFO it’s actually lü! You could Do Something with that. Also, in contexts where people want to distinguish between u and ü when typing but don’t have easy access to a keyboard method of making the ü, the typical shorthand is the letter v.

Alright! So you have your surname and you know how you want it spelled using the Latin alphabet. Great! What next?

Alright, so, now we get to the hard part: choosing the given name. No, don’t cry, I know baby I know. We can do this. I believe in you.

Here are some premises we’re going to be operating on, and I’m not entirely sure why I made this a numbered list:

Chinese people, generally, love their kids. (Obviously, like in every culture, there are some awful exceptions, and I’ll give one specific example of this later on.)

As part of loving their kids, they want to give them a Good name.

So what makes a name a Good name??? Well, in Chinese culture, the cultural values (which have changed over time) have tended to prioritize things like: education; clan and family; health and beauty; religious devotions of various religions (Buddhism, Taoism, folk religions, Christianity, other); philosophical beliefs (Buddhism, Confucianism, etc) (see also education); refinement and culture (see also education); moral rectitude; and of course many other things as the individual personally finds important. You’ll notice that education is a big one. If you can’t decide on where to start, something related to education, intelligence, wisdom, knowledge, etc, is a bet that can’t go wrong.

Unlike in English speaking cultures (and I’m going to limit myself to English because we’re writing English and good God look at how long this post is already), there is no canon of “names” in Chinese like there has traditionally been in English. No John, Mary, Susan, Jacob, Maxine, William, and other words that are names and only names and which, historically at least, almost everyone was named. Instead, in Chinese culture, you can basically choose any character you want. You can choose one character, or two characters. (More than two characters? No one can live at that speed. Seriously, do not give your character a given name with more than two characters. If you need this tutorial, you don’t know enough to try it.) Congratulations, it is now a name!!

But what this means is that Chinese names aggressively Mean Something in a way that most English names don’t. You know nature names like Rose and Pearl, and Puritan names like Wrestling, Makepeace, Prudence, Silence, Zeal, and Unity? I mean, yeah, you can technically look up that the name Mary comes from a etymological root meaning bitter, but Mary doesn’t mean bitter in the way that Silence means, well, silence. Chinese names are much much more like the latter, because even though there are some characters that are more common as names than as words, the meaning of the name is still far more upfront than English names.

So the meaning of the name is generally a much more direct expression of those Good Values mentioned before. But it gets more complicated!

Being too direct has, across many eras of Chinese history, been considered crude; the very opposite of the education you’re valuing in the first place. Therefore, rather than the Puritan slap you in the face approach where you just name your kid VIRTUE!, Chinese have typically favoured instead more indirect, related words about these virtues and values, or poetic allusions to same. What might seem like a very blunt, concrete name, such as Guan Yu’s “yu” (which means feather), is actually a poetic, referential name to all the things that feathers evoke: flight, freedom, intellectual broadmindness, protection...

So when you’re choosing a name, you start from the value you want to express, then see where looking up related words in a dictionary gets you until you find something that sounds “like a name”; you can also try researching Chinese art symbolism to get more concrete names. Then, here’s my favourite trick, try combining your fake name with several of the most common surnames: 王，李，陈. And Google that shit. If you find Actual Human Beings with that name: congratulations, at least if you did f/uck up, somebody else out there f/ucked up first and stuck a Human Being with it, so you’re still doing better than they are. High five!

You’re going to stick with the same romanization system (or lack thereof) as you’ve used for the surname. In the interests of time, I’m going to focus on pinyin only.

First let’s take a look at some real and actual Chinese names and talk about what they mean, why they might have been chosen, and also some fictional OC names that I’ve come up with that riff off of these actual Chinese names. And then we’ll go over some resources and also some pitfalls. Hopefully you can learn by example! Fun!!!

Let’s start with two great historical strategists: Zhuge Liang and Zhou Yu, and the names I picked for some (fictional) sons of theirs. Then I will be talking about Sun Shangxiang and Guan Yinping, two historical-legendary women of the same era, and what I named their fictional daughters. And finally I’ll be talking about historical Chinese pirate Gan Ning and what I named his fictional wife and fictional daughter. Uh, this could be considered spoilers for my novel Clouds and Rain and associated one-shots in that universe, so you probably want to go and read that work... and its prequels... and leave lots of comments and kudos first and then come back. Don’t worry, I’ll wait.

(I’m just kidding you don’t need to know a thing about my work to find this useful.)

ZHUGE Liang is written 諸葛亮 in traditional Chinese characters and 诸葛亮 in simplified Chinese characters. It is a two-character surname. Two character surnames used to be more common than they are now. When I read Chinese history, I notice that two character surname clans seem to have a bad habit of flying real high and then getting the Icarus treatment if Icarus when his wings melted also got beheaded and had the Nine Familial Exterminations performed on his clan. Yikes. Sooner or later that'll cost ya.

But anyway. Zhuge means “lots of kudzu”, which if you have been to the American south you know is that only way that kudzu comes. Liang means “light, shining” in the sense of daylight, moonlight, etc; and from this literal meaning also such figurative meanings as reveal or clear. (I’m going to talk about words have a primary and secondary meaning in this way because I think it’s important for understanding. It’s just like how in English, ‘run’ has many meanings, but almost of all them are derived from a primary meaning of ‘to move fast via one’s human legs’, if I can be weird for a moment. “Run” as in “home run” comes from that, “run” as in “run in your stocking” comes from that, “run” as in “that’ll run you at least $200″ comes from that. You have to get it straight which is the primary meaning, which is the one that people think of first and they way they get to the secondary meaning.)

“Light” has a similar “enlightenment” concept in Chinese as in English, so the person who chose Zhuge Liang’s name—most likely his father or grandfather—clearly valued learning.

I named my fictional son for Zhuge Liang Zhuge Jing 京. The value or direction I was coming from is that Zhuge Liang has come to the decision that he has to nurture the next generation for the benefit of the land, that he has to remain in the world in a way that he very much did not want to do when he himself was a young man. In this alternate universe, Liu Bei has formed a new Han dynasty and recaptured Luoyang, so when Zhuge Liang’s son is then born he chooses this name Jing which means literally “capital”. This concrete name is meant as an allusion to a devotion to public service and to remaining “central”. After I chose this name, I discovered that Zhuge Liang actually has a recorded grandson named Zhuge Jing with this same character.

above, me, realizing I picked a good name

ZHOU Yu is written 周瑜 in both simplified and traditional Chinese characters.

The surname Zhou was and remains a very common Chinese surname whose original meaning was like... a really nice field. Like just the greatest f/ucking field you’ve ever seen. “Dang, that is a sweet field” said an ancient Chinese farmer, “I’m gonna make a new Chinese character to record just how great it is.” And then it came to mean things along the line of complete and thorough.

Yu means the excellence of a gemstone--its brilliance, lustre, etc, as opposed to its flaws. It is not a common word but does appear in some expressions such as 瑕不掩瑜 "a flaw does not conceal the rest of the gemstone's beauty; a defect does not mean the whole thing is bad".

Zhou Yu has gone down in history for being not only smart but also artistic and handsome. A real triple threat. And this name speaks to a family that valued art and beauty. It really does suit him.

Zhou Yu had two recorded sons but in my alternate history I gave him four. I borrowed the first one’s name from history: Xun 循, follow. Based on this name, I chose other names that I thought gave a similar sense of his values: Shou 守, guard; Wen 聞, listen. The youngest one I had born when he already knew he was dying, and things had not been going well generally; therefore I had him give him the name Shen 慎, which means “careful, cautious”.

SUN Shangxiang 孫尚香 is one of several names that history and legend give for a sister of w//arlord-king Sun Quan who was married to a rival w//arlord named Liu Bei in a marriage which, historically, uh, didn’t... didn’t go all that well. In my alternate history it goes well! You can’t stop me, I’ve already done it!

The surname Sun means “grandson” and the given name components are Shang mean “values, esteems” and Xiang “scent” which we can combine into meaning something like “precious perfume”. A lot of the recorded names for women in this era (a huge number didn’t have any names recorded, a problem in itself) seem to me to be more concrete, to contain more objects, to be more focused on affection, less focused on hopes and dreams. This makes sense for the era: you love your daughters (I HOPE) but then they get married and leave you. You don’t have long term plans for them because their long term belongs to another clan.

I gave her daughter by Liu Bei the name Liu Yitao 劉義桃. Yi 義 meaning righteousness, rectitude and 桃 meaning... peach. Okay, okay, I know "righteous peach" sounds damn funny in English, but the legendary oath in the peach garden, the "oath of brotherhood" is called in Chinese 結義 "tying righteousness" and the peach garden is, uh, a peach garden. I also give her the cutesy nickname Taotao 桃桃 which you could compare to “Peaches” or “Peachy”. Reduplication of a character in a two-character name is a classic nickname strategy in Chinese.

GUAN Yinping 關銀屏/关银屏 is a “made up” (scare quotes because old legends have their own kind of validity, fight me) name for a historical daughter of Guan Yu. Guan means “to close (a door)”. Yin means “silver” and ping means “a screen, to hide” and according to the legend, her father’s oath brother Zhang Fei named her after a silver treasure. So here again we see a name for a woman that completely lacks the kind of aspirations we see in male names. Who would have an aspiration for a daughter?

My fictional characters, that’s who. I named her daughter Lu Ruofeng 陸若鳳/陆若凤, Ruo (like the) Feng (phoenix), based on a quote from a Confucian text about what one should try to be during both times of chaos and times of good government. I portray her father as a devoted Confucian scholar, so that was another factor for why I looked to Confucian texts for a source of a name.

Modern parents also now have big dreams for their daughters :’) and so modern girls receive names that are far more similar to how boys are named.

GAN Ning 甘寧/甘宁 is a great example of a person whose name does not suit him. Gan 甘 depicts a tongue and means “sweet”, and Ning 寧 which shows a bowl and table and heart beneath a roof means “peaceful”. Which, it would be hard to come up with a name for this guy, a ruthless pirate turned extremely effective general:

that is less suitable than essentially being named “Sweet Peace”.

And when he was an adult, his style name—a name that Chinese men used to be given when they turned 20 (ie became adults) by East Asian reckoning—indeed reflects that. Choosing your own style name was widely considered to be crass. I absolutely think that Gan Ning chose his own style name; he was that kind of a guy. And the name he chose! Xingba 興霸/兴霸! I’ve never seen another style name like it. It means, basically, “thriving dominator”! Brand new official adult Gan Ning treats his style name like he’s picking his Xbox gamer tag and he picks BadassBoss69_420, that’s what this style name is like to me. Except, you know, he had almost certainly killed many hundreds of people by the time he was nineteen, so, uh, it wouldn’t be a wise idea to make fun of his name to his face.

In my fictional version of his life, he married a woman whose father was the exception to the “parents love their children” rule and who named his daughter Pandi 盼第 “expecting a younger brother”, which is a classic “daughters ain’t shit, I want a son” name. Real and actual Chinese women have been given this shitty name and ones like it.

Because Gan Ning had an ironically placid name, I also gave his daughter the placid single character name Wan 婉, which means “gentle, restrained”, as a foil to her wild personality.

So there are a bunch of examples of some historical characters and some OCs and how I chose their names. “But wait, all that was really cool, but how can I do that? You can read Chinese, I can’t!”

I originally had a bunch of links here to dictionaries and resources but Tumblr :) wouldn’t let the post show up in tag search with all the links :) :) :) so you need to check the reblogs of this post to see my own reblog; that reblog has all the links. I’M SORRY ABOUT THIS. Here are a list of the sites without the links if you want to Google them yourself.

MDBG - an open source dictionary - start here

Wiktionary - don’t knock it til you try it

iCIBA (they recently changed their user interface and it’s much less English-speaker friendly now but it’s still a great dictionary)

Pleco (an iOS app, maybe also Android???) contains same open source dictionary as MDBG and also its own proprietary dictionary

Chinese Etymology at hanziyuan dot net

You search some English keywords from the value you want, and then you see what kind of characters you get. You should take the character and then reverse search, making sure that it doesn’t have negative words/meanings, and similar. Look into the etymology and see if it has any thematic elements that appeal to what you’re doing with the character--eg a fire radical for a character with fire powers.

And then, like I mention before, when you have got a couple characters and you think “I think this could be a good name”, you go to Google, you take a very common surname, you append your chosen name—don’t forget to use quotation marks—and you see what happens. Did you get some results? Even better, did you get lots of results? Then you’re probably safe! No results does not necessarily mean your name won’t work, but you should probably run it by an Actual Chinese Native Speaker at that point to check. Also, remember, as I said at the beginning, sometimes people have weird names. If you consciously decide “you know what, I think this character’s parents would choose a weird name”, then own that.

THINGS YOU SHOULD PROBABLY IGNORE!

Starting in relatively recent history (not really a big thing until Song dynasty) and continuing, moreso outside of mainland China, to the modern day, there is something called a generation name component to a name. This means that of a name’s two characters, one of the characters is shared with every other paternal line relative of that person’s generation; historically, usually only boys get a generation name and girls don’t. (Chinese history, banging on pots and pans: DAUGHTERS AIN’T SHIT AND DON’T FORGET IT!) “Generation” here means everyone who is equidistant descendant from some past ancestor, not necessarily that they are exactly the same age. For example, all of ancestor’s X’s sons share the character 一 in their names, his grandsons all have the character 二，great-grandsons 三, great-great-grandsons 四 (I just used numbers because I’m lazy). By the time you get to great-great-grandson, you might have some that are forty years old and some that are babies (because of how old their fathers were when they were conceived), but they are still the same generation.

In some clans, this tradition goes so far as to have something called a name poem, where the generations cycle, character by character, through a poem that was specifically written for this purpose and which is generally about how their clan is super rad.

If you want to riff off of this idea and have siblings or paternal cousins share a character in their names, ok, but it genuinely isn’t necessary. Anyone with a single character name obviously doesn’t have one of these generation names, and by no means does every person with a two character name (especially female) have a generation name. If you’re doing an OC for an ancient Chinese setting (certainly anything before the year about 500), you shouldn’t use these generation names because it wasn’t a thing. Also, in a modern setting, even if such a generation name or name poem exists, it’s not like there is any legal requirement to use it (though there may be family pressure to do so).

As a further complication, some parents do the shared character thing among their children without it actually being a generation name per se because it isn’t shared by any cousins. Or, they have all their children (or all their children of the same gender) share a radical, which is a meaning component in a Chinese character.

If someone does have one of these shared character names, then their nickname will never come from that shared character; either they will be called by the full name or by some name riffing off of the character that is not shared. For example, I knew a pair of sisters called Yuru and Yufei with the same first character; the first sister went by her English name in daily life (even when speaking Chinese) while the second sister was called Feifei.

tl;dr If you don’t already know Chinese, consider generation names an extra complication for masochists only. Definitely not required for modern characters.

Fortune telling is another thing that I think you should either ignore or wildly make up. Do you know what ordinary Chinese people who want to choose a lucky name for their child do? They hire someone to work it out. This is not some DIY shit even if you are deeply immured in the culture. There are considerations of the number of strokes, the radicals, the birth date, the birth hour. You’re the god of your fictional universe, so go ahead and unilaterally declare that your desired names are lucky or unlucky as suits the story if you want to.

MILK NAMES

In modern times, babies get named right away, if for no other reason that the government requires it everywhere in the world for record keeping purposes.

However, in traditional times, Chinese people did not give babies a permanent name right away, instead waiting until a certain period of time had passed (3 months/100 days is a classic).

What do you call the baby in the meantime? A milk name 乳名, which your (close, older than you) family may or may not keep on using for you until such time as you die, just so that you remember that you used to be a funny looking little raisin that peed on people.

This kind of name is almost always very humble, sometimes to the point of being outright insulting. This is because to use any name on your baby that implies you might actually like the little thing is tempting Bad News. Possible exception: sometimes a baby would receive a milk name that dedicated it to some deity. In this case, I guess you’re hoping that deity will be flattered enough to take on the job of shooing away all the other spirits and things that might be otherwise attracted to this Delicious Fresh Baby.

Because milk names were only used by one’s (older) family and very close family friends of one’s parents/grandparents, most people’s milk names are not recorded or known, with some notable exceptions. Liu Shan, the son of Liu Bei, who as a baby was rescued by Zhao Yun during the Shu forces retreat from Changban. Perhaps because his big debut in history/legend was as a baby, he is well-known for his milk name A-Dou 阿斗, which means, essentially, Dipper.

If you’re writing a story, you really only need to worry about a milk name for your character if it’s a historical (or pseudohistorical) setting, and even then only if the character either makes an appearance as a small infant or you consciously decide to have them interact with characters who knew them well as a small child and choose to continue using the milk name. Not all parents, etc who could use the milk name with a youth or an adult actually did so.

Here are some milk names I’ve come up with in my fiction: Little Mouse/Xiaoshu 小鼠 for a girl, Tadpole/Kedou 蝌蚪 for a boy, and Shouty/A-Yao 阿吆 for a boy. In the first two cases the babies were both smol and quiet (as babies go). The last one neither small nor quiet, ahahaha. 蔷蔷 Qiangqiang, which is a pretty enough name meaning “wild rose” (duplication to make it lighter), except the baby is a boy, so this is the typical idea that making a boy feminine makes him worth less, which, yikes, but also, historically accurate. Also Xiaohei 小黑 “Blackie” for a work that I will probably never publish because I don’t ever see myself finishing it. I might recycle it to use on another story.

Here are some more milk names I came up with off the cuff for a friend that wanted an insulting milk name. They ended up not using any of these, so feel free to use, no credit necessary. Rongzi 冗子 “Unwanted Child”; Xiaochou 小丑 “Little Ugly”; A-Xu 阿虛 “Empty”; Pangzhu 胖豬 “Fat Pig”; Shasha 傻傻 “Dummy”.

PITFALLS!

Chinese has a lot of homophones. Like, so many, you cannot even believe. That means the potential for puns, double meanings, etc, is off the charts. And this can be bad, real real bad, when it comes to names. It is way too easy to pick a name and think to yourself “wow, this name is great” and then realize later that the name sounds exactly the same as “cat shit” or something even worse.

Some Chinese families live the name choosing life on hard mode because their surname is itself a homonym that can make almost any name sound bad. I’m speaking of course of the poor Wus and Bus of the world. You see Wu may have innocuous and pleasant surnames associated with it, but it also means “without, un-”. (Bu is similar, sounds like “no, not”.) Suddenly, any pleasant name you give your kid, your kid is NOT that thing.

This means picking a name that is pleasant in itself yet also somehow also pleasant when combined with Wu. So you might pick a character with a sound like Ting, Xian, Hui, or Liang - unstopping, unlimited, no regrets, immeasurable. A positive negative name, a kind of paradox. Like I said, this is naming on hard mode.

If you are naming an ancient character, I am going to say in my opinion you should ignore all considerations of sound, because reconstruction of ancient Chinese pronunciations is on some other, other level of pedantic and you just don’t need to do that to yourself.

For modern characters, however, an attractive name, in general, should be a mix of tones and a mix of sounds. As a non-Chinese speaker, basically this means especially if you go for a two character given name, having all three characters start with the same sound, or end with the same sound, can sound kind of tongue twistery and thus silly/stupid. That doesn’t mean that such names never exist, and can in some cases even sound good (or at least memorable), but how likely is it that you’ve found the exception? Not very. (Two out of three having repetition isn’t bad. It’s three out of three you have to be careful of. Something like Wang Fang or Zhou Pengpeng is probably fine; it’s something over the top like Guan Guangguo or Li Lili you want to avoid.)

Just like the West (sigh), in the modern Sinosphere it is widely acceptable for girls to have masculine names but totally unacceptable for boys to have feminine names. If you see the radical 女 which means woman, don’t choose that character for a boy, at least if you’re trying to be realistic. Now Chinese ideas of masculinity doesn’t have the same boundaries as Western ideas, but if you want to play around in those boundaries, you gotta do that research on your own; you’ve left what I can teach you in this already entirely too long tutorial.

Don’t name a character after someone else in story, or after a famous person. In some/many Western cultures, and actually in some Eastern cultures too (Japan is basically fine with this, for example), naming a baby the same name as someone else (a relative, a saint, a famous person, etc), is a respected and popular way to honour that person.

But not in Chinese culture, not now, not a thousand years ago, not two thousand years ago. (Disclaimer: I bet there is some weird rare exception that, eventually, somebody will “gotcha” me with. I am prepared to be amazed and delighted when this occurs.)

Part of this is because of a fundamentally different idea in Chinese culture vs many other cultures about what is valuing vs disrespecting with regard to personal names. The highest respect paid in Chinese history to a category of personal names is to the emperor, and what would happen there is that it would be under name taboo, a very serious and onerous custom where you not only have to not say the emperor’s name, but you can’t say anything that sounds the same as the emperor’s name.

Did I mention that this is in the language of CRAZY GO NUTS numbers of homonyms? The day-to-day troubles caused by observing name taboo were so potentially intense that there are even instances where, before ascending to the imperial throne, the emperor-to-be would change his name to something that was easier to observe taboo about!

So you see this is an attitude that says: if you want to honour and show respect to somebody, you don’t speak their name.

As the highest person in the land, only the emperor gets this extreme level of avoidance, but it trickles down all through society. You can’t use the personal names of people superior to you. Naming a baby after someone inherently throws the hierarchy out of whack. Now you have a young baby with the same name as a grown adult, or even a dead person, who is due honour from their rank in life. People who would not be permitted to use the inspiration’s name may now use that name because they are superior to the baby who received the name! This would mean that hierarchy was not being preserved, and oh my heaven, is there anything worse than hierarchy not being preserved? All of Chinese History: Noooooo!

Now. As an author—and I hope to God no one is using my Chinese name guide as a resource to name an actual human baby because I can’t take that kind of pressure—you can use the names of characters to inspire the names of other characters, in the following way.

Remember that I said that the key, the starting point, to naming someone in Chinese is to start from a value. Okay. So what you do, if as the author you want to draw a thematic connection between two fictional characters, is take the Inspiration character’s name, think about what the value is that caused that name to be chosen, and then go from that value to choose the New Character’s name.

If you’ll recall what I said about Gan Ning and his baby Wan, this is exactly the approach I took. Gan Ning had a placid single character name that belied his violent and outrageous personality; I chose a placid single character name for his similarly wild daughter to make them thematically similar. As an author, I named his baby after him. But within the context of the story, she was not named after him. Does the distinction make sense?

Values also run in families for obvious reasons. It’s very common to look at a family tree and see lots of names that follow a kind of theme and give you a sense that, eg, this family is rather low class and uneducated; this family is very erudite but a bit too fussy about it; this family is really big on Confucianism. So yes, as an author, looking to other characters for inspiration is not a bad idea.

Remember, a lot of times, as an author, you can and even should kick realism to the curb sometimes. If you want to make some Ominous Foreshadowing that Character A’s name is something to do with fire but! They name their child something to do with water and therefore they are destined to clash with their own offspring, gasp, you can do that kind of thing because you are the god of your universe. Relish your power.

Do you have any more questions? Feel free to send a PM or an ask. I hope this was helpful! Go forth and name your Chinese OCs with slightly more confidence!

Edit 22 April 2019: I added some more sections (fortune telling, Milk Names, and taboo on naming after people). I also need to overhaul the entirety of the previous to emphasize that even thought I thoughtlessly used “Chinese” as if it was synonymous with “Han”, there are non-Han Chinese and they can have very different naming customs. Mea culpa.

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imma-lil-teapot · 4 years

Text

TMNT 2003/2K3 Headcanon: Crying - (Raphael)

Feel free to scroll past this first part if you’re not interested in my silly rambling and nonsense. I won’t mind. Promise. ;)

Alrighty then, lockdown has officially started here. :/ *Unenthusiastic streamers fly* Oh well, look what we have all the time in the world for: WRITING! *Enthusiastic streamers fly* Not too much extra to add in this regard since the last headcanon (thanks a bunch for the likes btw, guys :D ), so I guess we’ll just get right into it. :)

Please bear in mind that I’m SUPER rusty! Haven’t written in ages so there are bound to be typos and all matter of general errors scattered throughout the post. Don’t pet them! They bite!

Anyhoo~ Despite attempting to create and share with the goal in mind to uplift spirits, I decided to start on a rather upsetting subject (PLEASE DON’T LEAVE! They end on happy notes ;) ) because, Imma just come and say it, I enjoy seeing my favourite characters shed tears (not for just any old reason -their personality plays a huge role in this- and CERTAINLY not for sadistic reasons, land sakes no! But… well, you’ll see~ ;) ) It makes me all gooey and fuzzy inside to see them display such raw emotion and I just wanna leap into the TV screen to hug and console them. I dunno why. Maybe I’m nuts like that. (Remembers Raph crying at the farm when Leo was badly injured and wishes she could just hug them all and take away the pain) Oh well, if you enjoy visualizing the same, then *High Fives*. :)

So yeah, if you read the title, you’ll know this is based on the 2003/2k3 series (my favs). Hope you all enjoy~ :D Grab tissues cause sad turts ahead! :’(

Jibber jabber stops here~

TURTLES~

LEONARDO

RAPHAEL - You are here

DONATELLO - Coming soon

MICHELANGELO - Coming soon

WARNING(S): Because of the subject, Angst and Hurt/Comfort will be present.

RATING: G (General)

WORD COUNT: Uhhh... *Shrugs shoulders*

ANYTHING ELSE TO ADD:

Well, you’re just gonna have to scroll down to find him, Master Splinter. ;) I really didn’t know what to add so... *Shrugs* And look at da squishy Turtle Tots, dey so cuuuuute!!! <3

TO THE HEADCANONS~~~~

~RAPHAEL~

– With his infamous hotheadedness and quick capacity for battle, it’s of course natural at first for one to expect Big Bad Raphie-Boy to be completely opposed to the very thought of crying. He is the resident ‘tough guy’ after all.

– However, this notion couldn’t be farther from the truth: sure, he can be brash, quick to temper and lash out at those that give him enough incentive to, but underneath that rockhard exterior beats the heart of a real softie, and when something truly upsets that tender muscle, you can bet Mr. Hothead’s not going to try too hard to keep the tears at bay.

– He’s as passionate as he is headstrong, and reining in such powerful emotions proves to be difficult at most times for him, so out of the four of them, and given the right circumstances, Raph can be surprisingly easy to get the tears flowing.

-- He’s no crybaby by a long shot, mind you, but he also knows that holding back on the waterworks is pointless and makes one just feel worse in the long run. If you’re going to cry, just cry. Simple as that.

-- Like all of his brothers, Red can’t handle the thought of losing any of his family and close friends. It tears him apart inside and he’ll desperately attempt to protect and prevent anything terrible from happening to them, but when it does, he’s an emotional wreck and doesn’t always know how to handle his distress.

– His initial reaction is to be by their sides before becoming outraged, and depending on the different situations, it’s not uncommon for him to also nag and pass remarks at the injured brother(s). It’s the only real way of expressing his fear of losing them before dampness starts forming in his eyes.

– Despite his tough guy front, he’s not against crying in front of his family and friends at all. He knows his place and doubts a few tears will have them seeing him in a different light, particularly his father/master and brothers for they’ve seen the worst in him on many occasions.

– It’s only when a particularly harsh meltdown wishes to happen does Raph choose to spare them the sideshow; he knows it’s not a pretty sight, so before the sniffling begins, he leaves the Lair and heads topside for some much needed air.

– He chooses the nearby rooftops as his destination; the ideal location to let go of the ever building waves of raw emotion that continue to grip at his chest, and by the time he makes it up the fire escape ladder, he spares little time letting out a rough growl in frustration, kicking an air vent a couple of times for good measure.

-- With some rage and frustration now out of his system, he heads on over to the brick wall and turns his back to it, roughly sliding down into a sitting position and exhales a dismal sigh. As he subconsciously replays the earlier events through his mind, he finally allows the next phase of his sorrow to surface unbridled.

-- He dolefully holds his head in one hand and balances it on a single knee pad as the tears now begin to flow freely.

– They instantly soak into his mask, and he grits his teeth as he feels the surges of emotion wrack his entire body. He doesn’t characteristically whimper or sob when crying, but he coughs a lot, and his nostrils leak like a faucet, forcing him to frequently sniff and snort just in order to breathe. This is the very reason why he refuses to really break down in front of the the others; not because of his tenacity, but because he simply finds the whole affair gross. His family certainly didn’t need to hear him constantly hacking up a lung and sounding like an untuned trumpet every time he blew his nose.

– The episode doesn’t last too long, though, much to his delight, and after some more thorough nasal clearing, Raph then wipes at his still somewhat wet eyes and mask before drawing out another -now exhausted- sigh.

-- He’d begin gradually twirling a single sai around whilst he collected his thoughts. It felt more natural to keep his hands busy than have them being static when he was feeling this way. As his demeanor altered, so did the actions he performed with it.

– He wouldn’t return to his family just yet for there was still some brooding left to be done... At least that was what he’d convinced himself he was doing. He wanted a clear head when he returned so for now, he’d remain in place on the rooftop in the crisp air with the city bursting with life just below him.

-- He had to admit, it was certainly the best place for him to be with his thoughts. Comforting in fact. A true New Yorker at heart.

BONUS EXTRA~

– Aside from having everyone special to him perish, one of Raph’s greatest fears is his inability to fully control his own temper. On more than one occasion has it gotten out of hand and thus resulted in him injuring his own brothers, and it had shaken him to the core each time.

– He’s come to the realization that he is his own worst enemy when it comes to reigning in his own inner rage, and it uneases him immensely that it could happen again and he’s fully aware that the probability is higher than he cares to admit. The more he concerns himself with it, the more it upsets him and thus, the tears of frustration start.

– Fortunately, his bros are there for him and can tell when he’s feeling low about it. They know the best course of action is to have a light-hearted conversation about it with him and offer their reassurances... With Mikey of course adding his own two cents on the matter in his unique Mikey style, which usually involves poking fun at his brother in red and causing Raph to go from broody to enraged in record breaking time. Just how it should be.

– Not only is Raph A-okay with crying himself, but he’s often first on the emotional support committee to offer the shoulder of comfort to his friends, amazingly enough, and he’s actually pretty decent at it too. Though, not for absolutely everyone; he has his limitations when he knows someone’s really just blubbering for attention.

– He wasn’t always so accepting of shedding tears, though: as a very young Turtle Tot, he often thought of it as being too ‘babyish’ for him to do and thus despised it whenever something happened to cause him to tear up.

– It took Master Splinter a rather surprisingly lengthy amount of time to change his perception of crying. No amount of explanations on how it was a perfectly natural expression of emotion would sway his son.

– It got so out of hand that Raph would be in utter denial about crying right in front of his father, even while the latter would be staring at his tear-stained face directly in front of him. “M‘not cryin’,” the little Turtle would sniff. “Cryin’s fah sissies.”

-- Splinter could only sigh and shake his head as he knelt down to embrace his son. When could he feel that Raphael would not fight the closeness, he’d give him the same lecture again, and Raph would finally succumb to his emotions and sob into his father’s robe whilst Splinter comfortingly rubbed his shell.

-- He could only guess that his words finally got through to his son for ever since that day, Raph’s entire attitude had altered for the better on the subject.

BONUS EXTRA EXTRA FEMALE READER OR S/O EDITION~ (Can also use an OC/FC insert if you wish, up to you)

From the moment you entered the Lair, you could clearly see something was up; Mikey was nursing an obvious wrist injury with a bag of frozen peas and hovering around Donny’s work area, complaining about the swelling to the purple-banded Turtle, who appeared to be paying little attention towards his ‘younger’ sibling as his back was turned.

"Hi, (Y/N).”

You visibly jumped at the voice behind you and briskly turned, only to meet Leonardo’s placid form, and he swiftly apologized for the start.

After the formal greeting, you gestured with a thumb in confusion at the former scene with an added, “Do I want to know?”

The leader’s facial features altered to a more serious aspect. “The end result of testing Raph’s patience,” he offered, which instantly had you more than a little concerned. Sure, Mikey could come off as being annoying, but to go so far as to physically harm him?

“Are you sure it’s not worse than ‘just a sprain’?” You overheard the injured brother asking Donny, whose focus remained on a contraption of sorts you couldn’t quite make out on his desk.

“Yes, Mikey, you’ll live,” he responded with just a hint of weariness. “But no swinging your nunchucks around for a coupla days,” which was met with a typical whine in response from his patient.

“It’s really not as bad as he makes it out to be,” Leo then added, turning your attention back towards him. Though you didn’t express it, you were grateful to hear the good news.

"Where is he now?”

“Topside most likely.” Of course. It didn’t surprise you in the least that Raph had chosen to head there and you quickly set a course for the surface. “Need an escort?” The leader in blue offered, to which you politely declined. You knew he needed no further explanation.

As you pushed back the manhole cover and made your way towards the nearest fire escape ladder, you were unable to put aside the various speculations as to why your special Turtle would hurt his own brother... Well, you would be kidding yourself to say you didn’t have at least one very plausible theory in mind, but as you neared the top of the ladder, the guesswork was instantly dropped and replaced with trepidation for you knew how Raph felt about injuring family.

To put it simply, you were going to be dealing with a very dejected Turtle, and true to form, as you peered over the top of the building, the iconic emerald green hide and red mask tails met your sight.

This was Raph’s favorite spot to gather his thoughts after all, so it was a no-brainer decision to begin the search there, and it was clear as day that it was exactly what he was doing for he made no effort to acknowledge your presence as he remained seated against the wall in a slouching position and gaze locked out front.

As expected, he appeared to be moping. “Hey, Raphie,” you greeted, clambering over the wall.

You were unable to tell if he had been aware you were nearby for he made no prior indication but instead merely replied with a gloomy, “’Sup, Kiddo?” No movement whatsoever.

It amused you whenever he chose to refer to you by that nickname, especially since you were both the same age, but as you ambled on over towards him, you were left anything but amused as your former notion was set in stone when you caught the telltale signs of wet stains under his eyes. “You okay?”

“Peachy.”

It wasn’t the first time you had witnessed ‘ol Red crying, but it didn’t prevent your heart from breaking all the same. Something about seeing the bullheaded bad boy in tears left you in a real state of dismay, so without invitation, you seated yourself next him, affectionately leaning against his side, but before the consoling could begin, you had to gently ask, “You wanna tell me what happened?”

“Ugh, it was so stupid! Mikey wouldn’t quit goin’ on n’ on about beatin’ me in the Battle Nexus tournament and kept rubbin’ it in our faces about becomin’ the champ,” he exclaimed with shockingly little provocation, sniffing loudly. “I jus’ got so sick’ve it this time, an’ it’s not like we neva duked it out before or nothin’ but... I went too far this time, (Y/N), ya know?”

He still refused to look at you as he began to wipe away some fresh tears that were forming in his eyes.

Your assumption had been correct all along; you acknowledged full well how Mikey’s triumphant achievement grated on Raph’s last nerve and how the orange-banded Turtle would seek out every opportunity to gloat about it in a bid to purposely provoke his ‘older’ brother. “Well, you know Mikey, Raph,” you said, not quite sympathizing with the actions he took, but rather offering some support. “He tries to get under your shell on purpose.”

"Yeah, I know, but... Dat’s no reason ta clobber the guy. Not like that, anyway” You noted how his voice gradually lowered grievously and you couldn’t stop yourself from placing your head on his shoulder.

“No, it isn’t, but...” you knew you were grasping at straws by this point, but still offered, “They say it’s not as bad as he makes it out to be.”

He sighed dolefully. “I lost control again, (Y/N),” and you could feel the vibrations beginning to surge through him. “No matta what I do, I jus’... I jus’ can’t...” He trailed off, wracked with emotions as he covered his face with one hand and allowed the tears to fall, a cough slipping here and there.

You heart bled for this boy, and more than anything right then, you longed to relieve him of the pain, so you did the only thing you could think of: be right there by his side, comforting him through the breakdown. “Oh, Raph. It’ll be okay,” you calmly whispered, slinking an arm around his carapace and shoulders, bringing him closer and lightly squeezing his bicep with your free hand. “It’ll be okay.”

He leaned into the much needed support and continued to allow his misery to flow forth. You didn’t mind in the least for it was exactly what he required in order to heal, and you would be there for him every step of the way.

AND THAT’S A WRAP!

ALL THE FEELS!! I EMBARRASS!!

WOOT, that’s Turt number two completed! Sorry it took a little longer than expected; I still feel rusty with sentence structure and all and am not entirely pleased with the outcome, but I did feel an improved ‘flow’ from the first so maybe things are slowly coming back to me? Or maybe it was the scenario; it felt more natural o write than Leo’s... Maybe cause Bloo Boi’s my fav Turt and I felt added pressure with his?

Oh well, Donny Boy’s next~

Thank you all so much for the read and hope you enjoyed~ :D

~Drag0n Mistr3ss’ Random Fandoms*

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vorthosjay · 6 years

Text

Let’s Talk About Chronicles of Bolas: Blood and Treachery

The latest Magic Story is here! It’s really good! Let’s go!

Dragonlord Atarka by Karl Kopinski

She slouched forward to join the old orc. Why did Grandmother always keep Baishya beside her when Naiva was the better hunter and could protect her if anything went wrong? It just wasn't fair.

"Young Naiva joins me today, with keen, quick eyes to shade my age-whitened orbs," said Fec as they headed out through the jumble of boulders. His limp was pronounced, but he used his staff skillfully, like a third leg, to negotiate the uneven ground.

Fec is an interesting character. Why DID Yasova take him in?

"Why did Grandmother shelter you?"

"Shelter a half-crippled orc, do you mean? Yasova always has her reasons."

"Is forbidden talk what got you kicked out of your tribe?" she asked.

"What you call forbidden talk I would call truth-telling. But that is not why, young one." He pointed to his dragging right leg. "In the Kolaghan clan those who cannot keep up are left behind."

"Then why didn't you accept death? Wouldn't that have been more honorable?"

"There are many roads to honor. Many ways to fight, even if my tribe does not recognize their worth." He tapped his brow with fore- and middle fingers. Unlike the humans, he needed no gloves because the tough skin of his hands withstood the worst cold. A network of thin scars wove a harsh pattern across the back of each hand, the mark of no claw she had ever seen. Maybe it was just how orcs got old, like age spots on the hands of wizened elders kept alive by their sentimental children. "Many things worth saving, as Yasova Dragonclaw knows well."

Aaaah. So think about this: Yasova’s hunting party now has former Mardu, Temur, AND Jeskai members.

Yasova is creating the dragon resistance.

The dragon's growl rolled as loudly as the avalanche that had torn away half the snow field on Eternal Ice. With a long, hot hiss, she reached out and closed her claws around Darka.

"A tasty snack!" she rumbled. "Almost as good as bear."

The ainok did not struggle or beg; he was too proud, and there was no point anyway.

Okay, so on the one hand, lol.

On the other hand, poor Darka.

Atarka is great.

Grandmother gestured for the others to remain behind and started walking, alone, toward the distant scatter of boulders where the broodling had deposited the dead Ojutai dragon. Atarka slammed a foreclaw down on the ground in front of the old woman.

"All come. All." A huff of sparks steamed up from her nostrils. "I know your tricks. I will eat all if I am not satisfied."

Atarka is interesting. She clearly knows Yasova was the Dragonclaw. Why has she allowed Yasova to live so long?

"Fah! He smells of Ojutai, that pompous, ice-breathing windbag."

I mean, where’s the lie?

He rubbed at his eyes, shook his head as if to clear it, and muttered, "That isn't the story I meant to tell. Let me try again."

Intriguing.

In place of the brutal chief, the young dragon was acclaimed as savior of the realm and offered the throne. Those who had once worshiped the drinker of dragon's blood now bowed before the dragon. He ruled according to the precepts he had discussed at length with his brother, for they were ever eager to understand the world's scope and heart. He knew that he could best honor the memory of his beloved brother by acting as he would have done, as he would have urged his brother to do.

So it was that he reigned justly and fairly, with order and peace, for many generations.

Propaganda by Clint Cearly

"In the last days of Shu Yun's leadership," he said, then faltered. His mouth shaped words but no sound came out. Again, he pressed fingers to his eyes as if his vision was failing him. After a moment of struggle his lips opened as if of their own accord, and he went on.

Is Nicol Bolas nearby?

So it was that the young dragon who became known as the second sun. He reigned justly and fairly, with order and peace. The tale of the fall of the dragon killer's dishonorable rulership was handed down from elder to child, generation to generation, and celebrated with a yearly festival over which the benevolent dragon king presided.

Approach of the Second Sun by Noah Bradley

Like their progenitors, they were belligerent and small-minded. Yet even a dragon as magnificent as himself could not defeat them alone. But he was not alone. He had subjects who sang his praises with poems that asked for no higher honor than a chance to prove themselves worthy of his regal generosity and noble perspicacity. He had armies of eager warriors and an academy packed with clever sorcerers he had taught, all seeking to challenge their skills against the mightiest of foes. He possessed the weapons of the long-dead dragon killers.

Note: Vaevictis is the progenitor of Shivan dragons, making these Shivans, probably.

An irritating flash of thought crackled in his mind with the timbre of Ugin's voice scolding him: If it is wrong to kill dragons when the humanoids do it, then it is wrong for us to kill our kinfolk. Or did Merrevia Sal die for nothing, Nicol? Was it never about her at all but only about the humiliation you felt at not saving her?

We need a third piece of art for Tormenting Voice with Ugin whispering to Bolas.

Emboldened, the great army rumbled into motion, marching, riding, rolling beyond the stoutly guarded border. They pursued the trail of the dragon across the great plains where Palladia-Mors had once hunted, taking supplies from towns and villages they passed. The land grew drier, and soon they reached what appeared from the distance as a wall but which was a stark barrier of rugged hills, twisted gullies, and spectacular pinnacles. Beyond, to the north, rose the grand mountain range where Vaevictis and his brothers laired.

So, obviously geography changes in 20,000 years, but if we’re talking great plains to a giant mountain range, I wonder if those mountains are Shiv? Maybe there was once a land bridge? It’s irrelevant, just a thought.

The three brothers, Lividus, Ravus, and Rubra, bellowed insults as they approached, calling him "runt" and "least born." That their insults weren't even clever just made it worse.

I think we can all empathize with Bolas, here.

"Traitor! Backstabber!" cried Vaevictis, flinging himself at Lividus just as, long ago in Arcades's town, a mild-mannered young man had been goaded to attack and kill his own brother.

Lol, remember that Vaevictis is eventually killed by Palladia-Mors after turning on her at the behest of Chromium. So this one is ironic.

The young king retreated. The blood-soaked rearguard, of course, had to all be killed lest they pass on the knowledge of how the blood of an elder dragon protected weak humanoid flesh. The sorcerers he allowed to live for long enough to create a smoky mist of concealment that would carry him some ways onto the plains, but he killed them after so there would be no one to talk of how there were bigger, stronger dragons in the world whom his subjects might choose to worship instead of him.

This is told so greatly. They had to all be killed, you see.

Also note: The blood of an elder dragon protected weak humanoid flesh.

Interesting.

He sought out Palladia-Mors. She remembered him with a dismissive clout to his head, but she listened avidly to his tale of how vulnerable Vaevictis now was.

Oh, this is way cooler than I was thinking. It’s not Nicol Bolas versus the elders. It’s Nicol Bolas manipulating the elders into war.

Cool!

Even the clever Chromium Rhuell took to hiding himself while he pretended to be something he was not, lest he be scorned by the humans he claimed did love him or eaten by the dragons who despised his mealy-mouthed philanthropy.

Bolas shows some really petty in this description.

Sorcerers who sought a dragon-like power through mastery of their magical gifts came crawling to offer their services, for in all the wide world no creature is as powerful as a dragon, not in the beginning of days and never across all the unending span of eternity.

I wonder if this is referencing the Numena, who were human sorcerers who overthrew the Primeval Dragons.

Even the wise Arcades Sabboth, who had scolded and harangued upon the topic of order and peace and the proper way to rule, threw his might into the great war as he listened to the whispers of wisdom that brushed through his mind.

The others will not respect your autonomy or your wisdom. They will come for you if you do not go after them first.

Even Arcades marched his followers against fortresses ruled over by his distant kinfolk. When he had defeated them, he threw their marrowless bones into the sea where the waters churned them into pale sands that washed shores all the world round.

It’s interesting that the other elders aren’t as resistant to Bolas as Ugin was.

So the wars raged, while only one dragon kept faith with those he ruled. He had not forgotten the promise he made to his twin: that there should not be one law for them and a different law for us. There should only be one law.

There would only be one law.

And that law is what? Whatever Nicol Bolas says goes?

Tae Jin broke off and, mouth slack, stared at the ground as if he had forgotten what he'd been saying or even who he was.

If this really is Bolas, is he actively influencing events? Are we going to get a massive reveal to pay off this frame story?

"There is only one law: to eat. This was a good feast. You may keep the outsider."

Haha, Atarka, don’t stop being you.

"What tale was that you told, so like Ugin's story and yet not his story at all?"

"I don't know. I meant to tell the tale of the last days of Shu Yun's leadership. Of the last meeting of the khans and how they fell to the dragons."

Again, he rubbed his eyes, then cautiously rose as if unsure his legs would hold him up. "This other story . . . came into my mind in a whisper. Maybe it's a story my mother told me when I was very young that I have forgotten until now."

Grandmother stood. "This is an ominous turn of events. Once before, a whispering voice sought to alter the events on Tarkir. To my shame, I listened. Ugin's death is partly to be blamed on me. Maybe the visions your master and the windfolk received didn't come from Ugin. But if they did, it's more important than ever that we reach Ugin's grave quickly. First, we must honor Darka for his hunting prowess in life and his unflinching acceptance of death."

Hmm.

#vorthos #archive trap blog #let's talk about #mtgm19

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thebladewarband · 7 years

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Part 2: Treading on Memories

It was a few days after her first (un)official investigation into what her Primus was looking for in Barradin's Estate before she decided it was probably safe to continue with the investigation. Her old Fahrar was the target this time, an abandoned building forgotten after the tragedy. Apparently it was too dangerous to raise cubs in a small Fahrar, with one dead Primus, in a town under constant siege, and so close to an area where an entire warband nearing graduation died. Go figure.

The building didn't have much in the way of security, all the personnel and most of what was inside had already been moved to other Fahrars with the cubs. Tikka and her Warband's stuff was either taken to the main citadel archives as part of official files or left in the building's storage. That, however, wasn't what she was looking for, no, she needed to break into her Primus' office. There had to be something there, some journal or notes her Primus kept on her secret investigation. Tikka knew that if she was going to find out what happened she had to find something like that, some head start that could tall her what her Primus was thinking. If there wasn't there may be no way of knowing whether her Warband's death was an accident or a murder.

Wearing more casual clothes instead of her normal plate mail Tikka walked slowly passed The Three Legions Court, a pub located in the center of town, making her way behind it to the lesser traveled section of the town. Nestled close to the outer walls of the Black Citadel was her old Fahrar, complete with metal walls and the same industrial look the Charr were known for. For 13 years she called it home, trained, ate, slept, bled. There was no place else she had more fond memories of, and now it lay abandoned, chained up to prevent looters.

She had expected this, and using her mace, smashed the lock. After removing the chain she tried to open the door, also locked. She chuckled and lifted up on the handle hard then slammed her weight against the door. The handle popped up and the door swung open. She was glad the Legions never saw fit to fix the lock, it had warped due to corrosion and with enough force could be opened whether it was locked or not. Younger cubs didn't have the body weight to open it this way so it was never a priority lucky for her.

Once inside she lit her torch and lifted it high the light chasing away the darkness for a ways. The old building had been abandoned for almost a year so everything was covered in a layer of soot that filtered down from the Citadel. It made everything look darker... sadder... like all the joy had been sucked out of it by time. It was disconcerting. So much had changed since last time she was here and yet, nothing had changed at all. Everything was just as she remembered it. She could still hear the voices of cubs running through the halls, fighting with their warband mates or playing games to strengthen core skills.

She thought back to a time where she had gotten pushed off the hanging bars by one of her Warband mates named Butter. A nickname because he had a habit of not gripping his weapon tight enough allowing him to be disarmed.

"Butter you bastard!"

"Should have watched your footing Thud. Now, I'm the Tribune of the hanging bars."

"My name is Tikka not Thud you cheat!"

"Might as well be! That's the only sound you ever make."

Cub Tikka grumbled as she picked herself up off the ground. Butter was standing tall with his hands on his hips and his chin up in a victory pose. He wasn't listening to anything else she said and knew that angered her. She looked at the hanging bars and slammed her little body against them causing them to shake, she was big even for a cub. This caused Butter to loose his footing and fall off. Tikka tackled him immediately yelling, "You should have watched your footing!" The two fought until the Primus broke them up each a little bloodier then when they started but nothing serious.

Tikka rounded the corner entering the play yard for the Fahrar and spotted the hanging bars. She sighed and closed her eyes. She could still see the pleading in his eyes as the ghosts cut him down. Despite their fighting they only wanted to push each other to get stronger, and knowing she wasn't strong enough to save him, or the others hurt something fierce. She shook her head and walked through the courtyard to the offices towards the back of the Fahrar and made her way towards her Primus' private office.

It was a large office for the size of the Fahrar, and still held much of her furnature. The retired Blood Legion officer had used much of her own personal furniture and she the Legions had left them behind. She chuckled remembering how her Primus had scolded her and Butter for using "poor combat tactics" and "letting their emotions get the better of them" rather than scolding them for fighting in the first place. Her Primus always had a weird way of spinning it into being dangerous for the others in the warband to use faulty tactics and should be punished over the fight itself.

Tikka leaned her back against the door to the office causing it to click closed. Her mace dropped to the floor as a clawed hand rose to cover her eyes. Now that she was alone in an office with no windows the memories and feelings she had kept bottling up threatened to overwhelm her. But, crying was weakness, it blinded you, weakened your resolve, and made you sluggish to react. She choked back her tears and wiped the back of her hand over her eyes to dry them off. She couldn't let it overwhelm her now, she couldn't show weakness, even in private. If she did, it would make her nothing but a weak good for nothing.

Instead, she busied herself with her task searching everywhere she could think of to stash a secret cache of information you wanted no one to find. She was at it for over an hour with no luck, she was running out of time. She was sure a patrol would spot the chain soon and she needed to leave before then. She looked around the office, there was no where else a secret cache could be, everywhere else was too public. She looked around the metal plate covered walls and slammed her fists down on the desk. A strange hallow sound echoed from beneath the desk.

She pushed the desk back and looked at the floor. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary so she knelt down and started tapping a claw against different plates until one reproduced the noise. She chuckled and after unscrewing the plate from the floor held her torch over the opening. What she saw was a simple book, hand bound in leather. She picked it up and flipped it open. Nothing made sense. The symbols didn't even seem like a language to her and, at first, she thought it was just gibberish, a fake to throw off any spies. Once she flipped to the last page her suspicions were put to rest. On the last page, was the same symbol she found at Barradin's Estate.

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cayannamon-arts · 7 years

Photo

Finally got around to sketching out my fanders sides ( tagged by the glorious @finiteframe3 ♥♥ ) Description and musings for each are under the cut~

Tagging: @grayscaleeternity @hauntedspacekiwi and any of my followers who’d like to give it a shot! You don’t have to draw or write, just have fun if you decide to do it ;3

by @cayannamon-arts / @cayannamon

DO NOT REPOST OR USE WITHOUT PERMISSION or REMOVE TEXT

Reblogs and Likes always appreciated! / More Art

Odette – My Graceful Side

She’s beauty, she’s grace, she will legitimately punch you in your fucking face.

Responsible for all my fancy clothing that I don’t own and instead only dream about

Loves heels, a lot. Has amazing balance and is not afraid to use them as both fashion statements and weapons.

She’s who comes up with my well-timed quips, though not usually my puns.

Makes sure I fluidly go through social situations with poise and manner

Believes that being kind, but firm is the best way to win a room

The best public speaker tbh

The reason people hate me for ‘being good at everything’ even when I’m not at all good at everything, ever. – In Odette’s thinking: “What’s the point of doing anything if you don’t master a little bit of everything you try?”

You think you can win an argument? Wrong. She’s stubborn as a mule. You will at least understand her thinking and opinions before the end of the debate, even if the two of you agree to disagree, or she hasn’t done her job.

Is the one who would shut up an entire room if she strutted in and she loves that power.

Is the one that everyone comes to for advice because they (for some reason) trust her, even if she has no idea how to help solve the persons problems, or better yet, even KNOW THEM??

A back tattoo of wings that Ive always thought about getting for myself.

Phathusha – My Creative Side

Pronounced “Fah-thew (rhymes with hue) -shaa”

A mess™, but a beautiful one

She’s the one who makes my puns, blame her.

Has at least 45 art supplies on her person at any given time

Has so many big ideas and dreams that its impossible to keep up with them all- sticky notes everywhere

The reason I never get anything done and take on too many projects at once

Is either the most fashion forward™ or a disaster™, there is no in-between

Very, VERY hyper; giggles a lot and just wants everyone to love everything and be able to bring something good into others’ lives with what she makes

Has paint, or food, or something splattered somewhere most of the time; she can’t be bothered to remove it unless she feels it will ruin something else

Is the animal whisperer of the group; she just knows what she knows, even if it makes no sense

Is constantly curious™ and gets me into all the Wikipedia articles and how its made and everything under the sun- she cannot be satisfied because anything could bring her a new idea

Is chill most of the time- at least until she’s had a bright idea™, at that point it’s best to just run and hide.

Violet – My Aloof Side

Tired, Stress, god she’s a mess™

Goes from not caring and giving zero fucks to causing me to worry about every little mistake I’ve made from kindergarten to now in high definition, repeatedly.

Wears hoodies almost constantly, if those aren’t clean she’ll throw on anything that isn’t ‘dirty dirty’ aka, been worn for three days straight.

Time is the enemy

Get her too stressed and she will bite your head off with every sarcastic remark she can think up, which is a surprisingly large amount

Listens to music to try and put herself into fantasy situations so she can constantly work out how I should act in situations; she must be prepared for anything that could or will happen.

Also, what plays on the headphones could be anything from dark emo music to Korean polka ya just…ya just never know.

Is the reason I rehearse “here” in my head during each and every class rollcall

Hates making mistakes, but not as much as Odette

Doesn’t show emotions in front of people, ever. That would be ridiculous.

Is sure that everyone hates them and that they're constantly talking about her behind her back

Trust Issues™

She’s the reason I will stop talking to people for about a month before coming back to them as if I never left- she needs her freedom and alone time y’all

Is Tech support for everyone

Dimitri – My Ardor/Zealous side

My most masculine side

Very secretive and reserved

Suave and sophistication

Doesn't speak much, but when words are said, they're probably really important so you should listen up

Don't let the book fool you; it's a 50/50 toss up of a novel series or fan fiction

On a dime, can turn into a passionate zealot when you least expect it; you bring up a common interest? Expect to be tackled and or spitting theories at 2 am

A good judge of character

Wants something… But has no idea what.

Responsible for my inability to make decisive decisions. Loves to play both sides of the problem or situation.

Has a matching tattoo of wings on back to mirror Odette’s

A good listener but awful at communicating openly- it's a work in progress

Hair typically tied back; if not, shit’s about to go down

Loves tight clothing

Is a mystery *insert ghost emoji and theme song here*

Funfact: The white spots on the legs and characters aren’t just forgetfulness; It’s my vitiligo, or as I like to think, my happy clouds ;3

#art #dimitri #fanders sides #my fanders sides tag #odette #phathusha #violet #cayannamon art #my art #mine

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justsomehobo · 7 years

Text

Hatt’s Army: Chapter 3

(Originally posted 7/15/2017)

Constructive criticism welcome!

Wednesday: June 26, 1940

"Gud moahnin', Mr. Havirty," said Sir Topham Hatt.

"Good morning, Sir," our Foreman responded flatly.

"An' gud moahnin' tuh you," Hatt greeted us, turning our way.

"Gurrd mrrrrnnng, Durrrurrcturrrrr…" the rest of us moaned, still drowsy.

"Mah wohd!" the mogul ejected sharply. "J-jahsht look et yuhselves! Whot evuh wuh ya doin' ohll naight!?"

Henry had had trouble getting up to steam lately, Havirty explained to him, and so the night before, he and the rest of the workmen had worked on him trying to find out precisely why. This meant they had to light his fire, see how long it took for steam to build, disappointedly bring it back down, make several adjustments and notes, light Henry's fire again, rinse and repeat. The roaring and crackling of the fire and hissing of steam made it a sleepless night for Henry, for the other engines, for Havirty and his engineers, and, I suspect, for the rest of the borough. Indeed, the workers were still crawling all over Henry like ants in dungarees. We all were staring forlornly at him, and he glanced miserably back at us, but Havirty reassured us that he would be back to work in a week at most.

The Morning Report proceeded as it had all week before. Sir Hatt was handed this morning's inspection papers by Havirty, both of them forcing polite grins. They had a brief discussion about the day before, which I had never cared for. With that, Hatt gave Havirty his orders on paper and quit the scene, punctual as always.

7:38 AM

Platform 1 seemed to be dimmer somehow. The cobblestone walls were a deeper shade of gray, the green paint on the pillars holding up the station's glass roof seemed to become duller, the posters with the colorful countryside paintings boasting "It's Quicker By Rail" were gone, and in their place were simple posters that announced, below a drawing of a crown, such messages as:

Keep Calm and Carry On Freedom Is In Peril, Defend It With All Your Might Your Courage, Your Cheerfulness, Your Resolution Will Bring Us Victory

Yeah, I figured. That was probably why.

"Abaht toime ya showed up! This plaice shmells lahke an oshtreh."

Oh yeah. And HIM. So much for courage and cheerfulness.

It was taking all the resolution I could muster to carry on in the face of our Mister Five-By-Five, let alone Hitler.

"With all due respect, Sir," said the Butler at his side, "this is a train station. It's supposed to smell like ash. Shall I fetch another french roast from the cafe out front?"

"Yesh, thaink ya," answered my Sir, readying his handkerchief.

I turned my gaze to the right of the coach in front of me, not about to witness him gorge himself again. Reaching the end of the platform with the express coaches, I happened upon Havirty having a chat with another train guard at a bench on Platform 2.

"How's work at Anopha, Jo?"

"Um… okey. But it does have its moments. You know that one huge timetable mix-up a couple days ago that held up three trains? See, they found it was 'cos of a truck on the first train that was written 'Do Not Hump' in a goods train to a hump yard. If that really was the case, I suppose it's on me. I's the one who wrote it there. See, they keep catchin' a guy who's a closet-o-rama-file-a-yak or somethin', an' it's a really long word an' it means the guy runs off to the same sidin' at night ta pay a truck a visit, an' he spoons it 'til four 'cos it gets 'im hahd. So they keep catchin' 'im, yeah, but the delinquent keeps gettin' away, right? Good. Now I's not havin' the trucks 'round the quarry be sticky wit' dew in the mornin's, so…"

The rambling dullard went on and on, like the background music in a stuffy cafe, long after I had stopped listening. In the meantime, the passengers shuffled aboard the coaches, the porter brought the luggage trolleys into the guard's van, and the guard inspected the couplings between the coaches, this time checking twice to see if the chains were hanging loosely between my buffers and those of the coach in front of me.

Suddenly, after the guard took his place at the far end of the platform with his green flag, everything around the train seemed to freeze in place. Even the wind hung in the air.

"What's going on?" I asked my driver, confused.

"Just as I feared, old boy," said Maxwell worriedly. "This really is supposed to be Henry's train."

"But Henry's being fixed at the depot. He can't work."

(sigh) "Exactly."

"Who is pulling this train, then?"

"I don't know."

"Edward?"

"No, he has to take a goods train first thing this morning."

"James?"

"He might. But it's twenty past seven. If so he'd be here by now. Or at least in short order."

"We're going to be late, aren't we?"

"I… I honestly don't see why not."

Oh, bugger. Oh God. Oh no! I thought. I caught myself almost in the same moment, but my cab auraphone betrayed me.

"Stop it!" barked Max; then seeing that he had my attention, he lowered his voice. "Get a hold of yourself! Feeling sorry for yourself isn't going to change a thing."

"I'm trying. But what else is there to do?"

"…Well, the guard is talking to our Fat Controller right now," he noted. "I hope they'll think of something."

"Wait!"

(sigh) "What now?"

"Can… can you tell me the riddle again? The one from the ancient land?"

"..."

"The one the traveler told you? You told me to remember it in case something really went wrong like this."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Well… this is how I remember it. There's a great big desert, and in the desert, there's two huge stone legs with no body, and there's also a huge broken vase shaped like a head. The legs and head are supposed to be from a statue, but there's no reason it should be there; there's no one to see it, because it's only desert sand as far as the eye can see in any direction. So who built the statue?"

"Ya mum's hairy pits!" Boris catcalled.

The dullard next to Havirty burst out laughing, and our yard boss dragged him away in embarrassment.

The guard and Mr. Hatt, who had been rudely interrupted by the outburst, now resumed talking, this time with my full attention.

"...Rahght. Hae's fahrd. Nahw! How much tahme d'we have t'soaht dis aht?"

"Until the train's due out? … Roughly four minutes."

Sir Hatt, gripping his hat with his left hand and cradling his forehead in his right, gave a long sigh. He turned to his butler, handed him his coffee, then stomped audibly in my direction with a scowl. "Mr. Wilkinson! Mr. Tell!" he called, and my driver and fireman came out of my cab. He took them behind me for a few minutes to tell them something I couldn't hear, in a concise, anxious almost-whisper.

He soon dismissed them, and while they silently went back into my cab, Sir Hatt walked over to stand on my buffer beam. His scowl loosened when he saw the look on my face. I didn't know what to think, and I looked the part. If my complexion hadn't always been as such, it would be safe to say I had gone white-as-a-sheet.

"Tommush, lishin tah me," he pronounced slowly and concisely. "It'll ahll be ahkay."

"Yes, sir?" I panted, trying to look as presentable as I could.

"Ah want yeh ta pool this tren twinteh mahls, ta Crowsby an' Willswuhth. Leave thah coachus there fah Idwahd, and come bahck ta tha Stehhtion whin tha deed is done. Thess tren is goin' with yah, or it's naht goin' ahtohll. Just pehce yohself and keep an eye out fah signal towahs. Do ya know how they wahk?"

"Up-and-red-train-ahead!(gasp)D-down-and-green-track-is-clean, SIR!" I spat anxiously, my dome already throbbing with excitement.

"Jakers, ah said ta pehce yohself," he replied with a sigh of relief. "Well, tha-'s toahn it. Dismissed!" And turning back round to the guard, he said, "Git the shontah ta tha head o' tha trehn, pronto!" As he walked away, his butler handed him back his coffee mug and he took a swig.

"Ahhh… kkkhck!-pthw! Leahst it isn't boiling hot."

7:44 AM

I took a moment to look around.

I looked up at the shimmering glass on the station roof, with the occasional bird dropping here and there, as if to break up the monotony.

I looked down at my buffer beam to make sure all the equipment was in working order, and briefly flashed back to the awful moment I witnessed the coupler chain pull taut not so long ago.

I looked to my left at the tall steeples and chimneys that jutted out of the lake of roofs that was Knapford town. Old Prince Gordon also caught my eye as he lumbered into the yard. Oh, what a shock he's in for, I thought to myself. Now he'll see how much I know about hard work and dedication!

I looked to my right at the woods that obscured whatever lay beyond for miles around, and the gold-tipped ridge that rose above the treetops in the distance.

Finally, I looked straight ahead of me, at the green signals of the Gate and the open line beyond, in wait for the sacred Whistle.

I would never look back.

On.

And the fifth angel sounded, and I saw a star fall from heaven unto the earth: and to him was given the key of the bottomless pit. And he opened the bottomless pit; and there arose a smoke out of the pit, as the smoke of a great furnace; and the sun and the air were darkened by reason of the smoke of the pit.

And in this darkness, I could feel only a strong wind that swept my soul off the ground and sent it cartwheeling helplessly through the air like an autumn leaf. It gave the sensation of a bottomless pit, although I knew I had simply gone numb. In a moment I could feel the ground beneath my wheels again. My vision, at first a bright blur, slowly came back into focus; sky-blue and deep green came first, followed by a deep beige that soon filtered itself into grey ballast and brown sleepers. Then there came the white of clouds, the grey of factory smoke, and the blackish grey of the steel rails I was on. By then, I could also hear my own loud huff-huff-huff-huff-huff-huff-huff-huff-huff-huff-huff-huff in tune with each stroke of my rods and turn of my wheels. I looked back at Gordon again as I passed him, and I saw, to my surprise, that he had a spirited grin on his face. It was the happiest I'd ever seen him looking at me. He was soon gone behind me, as was Knapford town and the gateway that separated the junction from the open line.

I had been here once before, but I hadn't cared for the scenery. This time, it was enrapturing. I had never seen so many shades of a single color in my life, and I briefly imagined that this was what the Emerald City of Oz looked like. Furthermore, these shades were forever shifting, for the same wind that was in my face, almost stinging my lenses, was rustling the leaves all around. Aside from this, the only noise was of my own escaping steam, the occasional birdcall, and the ta-tuck ta-tuck, ta-tuck ta-tuck of the rails beneath my wheels.

In a strange way, it reminded me of the evenings when our fires were being doused and cleaned and all was slowing down for a good night's rest. Perhaps this was what encouraged me to start to let down my guard and cutoff rate alike. I caught myself each time, though, knowing I had a train to pull and didn't want to be late. But then I went back to watching those leaves, and it was so quiet, and I got so tired, but I pulled myself back up again only to stare back at the leaves. It happened at least twice- maybe four times- along my journey, and I nearly felt out of steam by the time Crosby, the quaint town with its little platform, booking office and car park by the side of the line- and our next stop- finally appeared in the distance.

The workmen had explained to me that the platform there was usually crowded with people who took the train to their Jobs in the big cities. But as I coasted sorely to a stop near the end of the platform, looking for a water crane, we couldn't help but notice that there were no passengers to be found. There were two trolleys at the ready, a janitor leaning against the office wall, sandwich in hand, and a porter waving a red flag. The janitor's eyes met mine as he chuckled to himself.

Boris stepped onto the platform impatiently. "What the devil are you laughing at?" he interrogated. "And where are all the passengers!?"

"The railway bus came and went ten minutes ago," explained the porter, gesturing to me. "Say, uh, that isn't supposed to be the Limited… is it?"

"…oh, BUGGER!"

His shout triggered a force of habit and I looked behind me.

Through the bronze rim of my cab window, the lone and level line stretched far away.

Friday: June 28, 1940 ~1:00 PM (Greenwitch Time)

Scritch-scratch-scritch-scratch-scritch-scratch-scritch-scratch.

The noise of the scrubber's stiff spindles was as irritating as always, but there was nothing else for me to focus on with my apertures shut tight to keep soap from getting in. We engines hate being dirty, sure, but we barely enjoy washdowns either. It's all too easy to get hot and bothered when you bleed steam, live on coal and give off smoke, but after spending half a day of this sort of irritation, the water they use is usually lukewarm! On bank holidays, though, Havirty has the water run through a chiller before it comes out the crane, which punctuates them for us the way children's presents punctuate Christmas. (And on snow days, he has the water heated instead, which feels just as refreshing.)

It goes without saying that we turn green with envy whenever we hear the workmen complain about cold showers.

"Okay… and now for the right tank." Scritch-scratch-scritch-scratch-scritch-scratch-scritch-scratch...

"Hnnnnnmmm," I grunted defeatedly under the soap bubbles.

"What was that?" the cleaner said, wiping my face off with a flannel.

My eyes now clear, I could see that Edward, pushing a long wagonload of chittering trucks and vans two tracks to my right, was helping the workmen arrange them into that evening's goods trains. The men would work their way up the line towards Edward, marking the numbers of the sidings the trucks were slated for on their sides with pieces of chalk. When a truck reached the junction ahead, the signalman would see the chalk markings and set the points for that siding. The truck would be uncoupled, and on the foreman's mark Edward would give a single, mighty stroke with a huff of escaping steam, sending it coasting gently on its way into the siding.

"Mark!"

"wha?-oof!ah!he-e-ey!heyheyhey!waitwaitnononoaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaDHNG!"

As laughter rang through the rest of the yard, I allowed myself a quiet chuckle before turning my attention back to the cleaner.

"Oh, that was all, Miss Meriwether. Carry on."

"Look, I know it's taking a while," she replied. "But I haven't seen this much soot on an engine in months! Not since the coal fire, even." And she gave a shudder.

"It's the big engines," I explained. "They've been blowing smoke at me for forgetting the Limited."

"You didn't forget it," Meriwether corrected. "The guard did!"

I suppose nobody knows exactly what had happened that fateful morning at Knapford Station. Sir Topham Hatt told us Maxwell had opened my regulator by accident, Max said the guard had forgotten to couple me up, the guard said the stationmaster had refused to allow him to inspect the train before we left, the stationmaster said our Fat Controller had insisted that we left on the dot, and Henry, Gordon and James all said a whiny little pug just hadn't the common sense to leave well enough alone.

"Madam," said Edward, in a voice that felt like an electric blanket, "do you mind if I talked to our Number One about this?"

The old cleaner nodded understandably.

"I know how you feel, little one. This could go one of two ways: either something new comes up and they forget about the whole Limited thing, or they let it blind them to everything else that sets you apart. And already, just for being a tank engine, they think they're better than you."

"...Are they?" I posed.

"Well, I see the work you do each day out in the yard," the cleaner pitched back in, "getting everything ready for the big boys and then picking up their mess. And I think from all those years you've been doing that, it's made you the sharpest of all. I mean, they only need enough smarts to go forward 'til they see a red light. Why, I don't even think I can keep track of how many sidings there are in that blasted yard!"

"Why… thank you, Miss. I'd never thought of it that way."

"Mark!" came the order.

-huff!-

-clunk!-

"ow!he-e-ey!no!no-no-no-no-no!no-no-no-no-nonononoaaaaaaaaaah!"

The wagon slid slowly down the line, screaming to itself all the while. Edward and I chuckled again.

"And besides," continued the old craftmaster, "there's no room for a second fisheye on those big tenders of theirs. Take it from me; my fisheye peeks a bit over my own tender, but even I need my driver's help looking out behind me." Then, with a chuckle, he added, "But if you still really want to go off to war, see the world, be a hero... then I won't stop you."

"He's certainly got the courage and cheerfulness to bring us victory," Meriwether joked, remembering the poster on the station wall, "not to mention the determination. Matter of fact-" here she paused, glaring into Edward's lenses- "I wonder if you could pull some strings for us?"

"What?" started Edward, bewildered.

"Well, you've done it before," she explained. "We all know what went down between you and those union men!"

"...I suppose so. But I don’t work for free."

"I'll leave thirty pence in your cab this morning as collateral; then, when you talk it over with Havirty, you two can decide that for yourselves."

"Mark!"

"...aieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

"Now, Thomas…"

"Yes, Edward?"

"If I tell you how, would you be willing to try pulling another train?"

There was a long silence.

"I don't know," I answered, after giving it some thought. "Maybe? I mean, I'd love to. But what if something goes wrong again?"

"Then let me rephrase that question," said Edward slowly and clearly. "Have you become too afraid of failure to even try? Or are you still willing to open yourself up to the possibility of defeat and disgrace, all so you can travel the world and redeem yourself in the eyes of your fellow jinn?"

I didn't reply at first. In spite of himself, he began to grow impatient, and it showed in his voice as he glared back at me.

"Thomas!?"

"I'll give it a try, Edward," I determined, as he followed my gaze to the gold-peaked hill in the distance. "What have I got to lose?"

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Well, here's the next one! Hopefully there's enough material now to warrant some constructive criticism, because, to be honest, that's what this whole thing is really for. I'm a storyteller at heart, and I'm putting this out there to see what people think about my writing style, and how I could improve if I became a professional writer. So if you post a review, I ask you to please be thorough with it; reviews that basically go "looks cool, good job" are a dime a dozen. I don't mean to put anyone off, but if you can't offer more than that, try to hold your tongue.

And one more thing you might want to keep in mind: When I visualize the engines talking, I imagine they sound a bit like male Vocaloids- an imperfect, mechanized recreation of a human voice that may or may not come to rest in the uncanny valley. This, of course, lends additional meaning to Edward's voice being described as sounding like an electric blanket.

Enjoy!

#fanfic #fanfiction #fanfiction.net #ttte #ttte&f #t&f #thomas the tank engine #thomas the train #thomas & friends #thomas&friends #deconstruction #AU

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