#in addition to my long time without speaking fluently

[svsssfanonarchive]

About your response re: Gongyi Xiao's name, if the given name is one syllable, how would he be referred casually? I've only just started learning more about how chinese names work, and from what I've been told names should preferably have two syllables. I've seen additives such as A- and -er, but I don't exactly know how they work and don't want to make assumptions.

This obviously doesn't relate to canon facts like this blog intended, so apologies if the question is unwelcome! Hope your day is lovely either way 💕💕

Tbh I'm open to answering as many questions as I can, even if it's not this blog's main intention-- even if I can't answer or don't answer correctly, at least then it's out there before a bunch of eyes that can peer-review!

Whether a given name in Chinese has one or two characters, that can depend a lot on generation. For example, I believe for a long time it was two-character names that were customary, then more recently one-character names, and the current generation has gone back to favoring two-character names again. Sometimes, a given name will have three characters, maybe even four, but I have only heard of this and haven't seen it so it's very uncommon.

Either way, you're hardly ever going to call someone by a single-character name without a modifier. Usually names aren't used without modifiers at all, but it's especially so for single-character names. To call someone by a single-character name with no modifier is not unheard of in literature, but it is very intimate, and also very uncommon-- so I wouldn't suggest using it that way.

Anyway, for Gongyi Xiao in particular, one could very, very informally call him 萧儿Xiao'er/Xiao'r，or 阿萧 A-Xiao. However, this is very familiar and would only be used by people older than him, especially when he is young, or people who are very, very close to him like parents or older siblings and other relatives, or by a romantic partner-- not casually between friends. Both of these are intimate and affectionate, with a "cutesy" sort of feeling, though to my own interpretation Xiao'er is slightly more so than A-Xiao.

For his peers, 公议师兄 Gongyi-shixiong would be standard, even for those peers from other sects as cultivators of the same generation call one another Shixiongdi/Shijiemei even when they are not from the same sect in SV.

As for general close friends, Calling him 公议兄 Gongyi-xiong would be appropriate (with "xiong" here as roughly equivalent of "bro") or perhaps 萧哥 Xiao-ge as something even less formal but not as intimate as Xiao'er/A-Xiao.

So, someone of the same generation could call him inorder of formal to least formal, Gongyi-shixiong > Gongyi-xiong > Xiao-ge, and a partner of his could say A-Xiao or Xiao'er.

[eyfey]

Hello! I'm sorry to bother you, but I was wondering how long you studied Japanese for until you became good enough to do manga translations? (Or fluently read manga at all, really 😔) I want to help contribute to projects like that, but I feel I still have a long way to go until then 🤧

so first off: sorry this took so long to reply to! when I first got the message I had exactly Zero free time, and then i simply forgor (whoops lol)

I actually already have a few posts sort of about this in my #translation tips tag, but it's been a hot minute so I might as well provide some updated info~

(under the readmore 'cause it's longggggggg)

How long have I studied Japanese?

A While. I had maybe a not so typical journey with Japanese... If you break it down it looks kinda like this:

4 years of watching a TON of anime to pick up basic vocab just by ear (this was in high school- I did not take any actual classes or even make any effort to learn the language at this point, but apparently I'm pretty good at just picking up things from hearing them)

4 1/2 years of actual Japanese classes in college (actual learning with like teachers and textbooks and homework)

1/2 year of study abroad that I managed to cram in before I graduated (additional classes and also constant speaking the language)

8 1/2 years since then (god has it really been that long???) (no actual like... studying during this time, but a LOT of translating... mostly Saiki)

So.... 13-ish years? if you don't count the first 4 that were just watching anime. And technically only 5 of them were actual "studying".

-

How long did I study before doing manga translating?

I, uh….. I actually started translating manga about a month BEFORE I ever took a single Japanese language class.

(not recommended but like… here I am lol)

I had found some volumes of Pyu to Fuku Jaguar(a gag manga I really liked but only had 3 volumes translated at the time) at a used bookstore, but they were in Japanese so I just kind of bought them, downloaded an english to japanese dictionary app, printed out a hiragana/katakana chart, and then just went through the book: looking up one letter at a time, sounding out words, looking them up in the dictionary. I already knew a lot of vocab and had a vague feel for grammar exclusively from watching anime, but like also there was a loooooooot of looking stuff up. I don't remember exactly how long it took to read that first volume (at least a month lol- maybe 2 or more)

I noticed the scan group for Pyu to Fuku Jaguar was updating really slow (and/or had notices that they needed more translators? I forget it's been over a decade lol) So I figured: I can understand this well enough just reading it on my own.... maybe I can help???? it's probably better than nothing right?? So I tried my hand at doing some translations and uploaded them to the newbie board of a manga translation side to have people proofread, and then I emailed the group to ask if I could join. If I remember correctly they only ended up posting one (or none) of my translations?? before disappearing so I just kind of kept doing the translations on my own without uploading them anywhere

and then later when a new group took over they had gotten my translations from the previous group (or was it the translation site where I uploaded some?) and credited me in the release, so I sent them a message like "hey neato! I actually have like 5 more translations done, u want em?" and ended up joining THAT group to continue working on the series!

I started taking classes p soon after starting the translations, and doing translation while taking classes was actually really nice 'cause I had a place to pretty much immediately apply the things I learned in class, and the translating outside of class gave me a lot of practice for reading & a good head start for learning new vocab.

Honestly I think for translating, being good at the language you're translating into is more important than being good at the language you're translating from. Like: you should still at least SORT of know the language you're translating from (that is an important part of it too don't get me wrong) But like even if someone is perfectly fluent in Japanese, if they're translating into English but don't know how to make words sound good in English, then it kind of defeats the purpose haha.

(reading a lot and paying close attention to wording and stuff, and also reviewing and revising your translations will help with that part of the translation process- it's also a skill you pick up as you go)

-

Tips for getting better at reading Japanese?

Honestly I think translating is one of the best ways to get better at Japanese (understanding and reading at least- it won't necessarily do much to help you remember how to write or speak haha) Reading is helpful to some extent, but you will probably get to a point where you understand enough of it to get the gist of whats happening, but then your brain will just sort of skim over a lot of the parts you don't know in the interest of enjoying the story without stopping. When you translate though, you're FORCED to stop and look up every word or phrase you don't know and double check things and sort of sit on them and think what it means and how you would say it in your own language.

If you're self motivated enough you can probably get some good learning out of language apps like duolinguo or babel or whatever, or even just buying Japanese textbooks/workbooks and going through them by yourself. Otherwise, taking Japanese classes is the standard approach (even if you don't go to a school where they offer Japanese classes, there are private options- just google Japanese classes or Japanese tutors online or in your area if you prefer in person)

This old post of mine has some more detailed tips for how to look things up, and some just general translating tips that I think are still p useful, but it pretty much boils down to "google everything you don't know until you know it"

also the 10ten extension is good for highlighting/translating individual japanese words in your browser (when they're written in kanji or kana) and the google translate app is good for taking pictures of text and reading it so you know what the dang kanji says (or you can hand write the kanji in there too- though I need to find a better kanji dictionary app 'cause google's doesn't really give you enough space to write)

-

Sorry this ended up WAY longer than I thought it would but I hope it helped!

Good luck!!

[superman--yoosung]

hi hello! (◍ ´꒳` ◍) i happened to stumble upon your Genshin matchup event so i was wondering if i could participate?

— pronoun preference(s): she/they

— gender preference: male

— ballpark age preference: adult, but not Diluc please

— personality + morals/beliefs: i'm generally easygoing and patient, and often mistaken for an extrovert because of how friendly i can be. i've been told i'm very easy and calming to be around, however, i love my alone time more than socialising. i also have a bad habit of nagging people when i'm worried about them but can rarely spare a thought for myself ^^; i believe in what goes around comes around, both in its negative and positive meaning, so i try to do what i think is right while not wasting energy on stupid/mean people (sometimes it's hard though sigh)

— likes + dislikes: i love languages, and folktales (especially those that have eerie or unsettling undertones to it, same goes for books). i'm majoring in english right now as well! i also love, writing, dogs, flowers and stargazing.

as for dislikes, i don't like cold weather, extremely loud places like large concerts, and being stuck in someone else's rythm (them deciding on everything, listening to only them talk etc.)

— what vision you think you would have and why: perhaps electro because i feel like i'm often in my own dream world that i'm trying to lightly assimilate into my life.

— embarrassing moment from your life: as a kid i used to think you can actually fly with your umbrella like Mary Poppins if you jumped from a high enough place (places i jumped from include: a big oak, a greenhouse roof and a piano)

— additional info: i can speak four languages (three fluently, one is still under work xD), think i'm good at singing although i'm actually not but sing aloud anyway, and really want to visit a big desert or a tundra and just look at a humongous sea of stars!

that's all, thank you so much! hopefully this wasn't too much info, i apologise if it was ^^; and naturally, no need to do this if you don't feel like it. take care and have a lovely day <3

Hello! Thank you for sending in your ask!! This was really fun to do since you have so many interesting small details!!

Your matchup is.................................................

Alhaitham !!

Your interests and expertise just align so well. It was inevitable that you eventually crossed paths, and the rest was history!

..... Sort of. Your personalities don't seem similar at first - others outside of your friend groups expect you to be far too extroverted for Alhaitham, who would much rather spend his time quietly on the things that interest him. But unbeknownst to them, that's exactly how you feel, too - why spend energy and time on folks and topics whose presence and example fail to bring positive influence into your sphere?

Perhaps that's what kept Alhaitham coming back to you - that kindred spirit, that appreciation for simpler joys in life, that depthless yearning to learn about what you love.

Either way, what began as a shared love of languages and academic pursuits eventually morphed into something more between the two of you.

Fun details:

Electro + Dendro on the field means you two create some powerful reactions in battle!

When the weather gets cold, he'll always have your favorite warm drink ready and waiting by the time you get home. He won't let you wear his cape to stay cozy, though, so if you want it you'll have to steal it!

You probably get along with Alhaitham's friends better than he does!

Your evenings are usually spent quietly pursuing your interests in each other's presence; Alhaitham on one end of the couch reading a book, and you on the other finishing a paper or reciting new vocab for a language you're learning (and by the way, he'll chime in with a correction or critique now and then, too, because - of course he would)

You may nag him from time to time, and he'll usually follow your advice without question, as long as it's reasonable - but he'll always use that rational mind of his to point out when you've done so to your own detriment!

If you've forgotten to take care of yourself, he'll remind you to do so - he'll ask if you've eaten your meals, if you're sleeping well, whether you need to blow off some steam, etc. He tends to do so without a filter, though, so he tends to be blunt about it.

You, and only you, are allowed to regularly use his spare pair of noise-cancelling headphones.

If you suggest a visit to the desert or tundra or even just to go stargazing, he'll be happy to plan the entire trip with you - it gives him a reason to use his vacation days, and more importantly, it'll put a smile on your face for a week.

Your wild imagination is something that amuses him. Though he'll always logically point out the flaws in your daydreams, it's partly just to see your reaction. If you met as children, he definitely tagged along in your jumping shenanigans, but only to say "I told you so" when they inevitably didn't go how you hoped.

He doesn't make it a secret that he values your opinions, both academically and personally. He values your input and always takes it into account.

And what does he loves about you most? A simple question with a simpler answer: Your mind, which is both capable of highly logical thought as well as the most unrealistic of dreams. A juxtaposition he finds enthralling. He does also like to admire your frame in the moonlight, too, underneath all of those stars you so love - how the shadows cast along your shoulders, how your hair reflects the night's light.

~~I hope this is to your liking. I was very close to picking Zhongli for you because I thought he would be able to tell you the best folktales, but in the end I went with Alhaitham because I thought you shared some important views/interests. Have a good day~!

[dreamndestinaton]

How to speak English fluently and confidently with the help of the Best English Speaking Institute in Jalandhar?

How long have you been studying and writing English? Do you find that even after studying hard, you can't speak fluently? You may have studied a lot of grammar and vocabulary, but you still struggle to form sentences while speaking. In this blog, I will teach you how to speak English fluently? or How to Speak English Confidently? Also, how can you overcome the embarrassment of not knowing how to speak English fluently, and how can you enhance your English fluency so that you can talk with confidence? 

Enroll at Dream ‘n Destination, the Best English Speaking Institute in Jalandhar for better understanding and learning. Our team of expert tutors will help you to go through each concept and learn deeply. We provide special sessions for weak students classes on different modules like Reading, Writing, Listening, and Speaking. We provide offline as well as online IELTS coaching classes. You can register according to your comfort whenever you find yourself able to attend the session, different timing sessions are available.

How to Speak English Fluently?

Do you understand what it means to speak fluent English before learning how to do so? When people talk about fluency, they imply the ability to communicate effectively in a language. For some people, speaking English fluently entails possessing a high overall level of English. However, fluency encompasses more than that. Being fluent in a language implies you can communicate without pausing or hesitating. 

It is possible to communicate fluently, confidently, and naturally in English. Everyone learns English differently. So you don't have to worry about how you'll enhance your English skills. There are several techniques to improve English in a short time. Here are the steps to speak English fluently. 

Here are some crucial ideas to help you:

Stop acting like a student.

Start speaking English.

Prepare and practice.

Speak with your family and friends in English.

Think That in English.

Surround yourself with English.

Don't Concentrate Too Much on Grammar. 

Do not be afraid to make mistakes. 

Read out loud. 

Use a dictionary. 

Always listen carefully. 

Talk to yourself.

Take Spoken English Classes.

How Can I Speak English Confidently?

As a non-native English speaker, you may have encountered situations in life where you are expected to talk in English. It might happen at work or while you're dealing with some foreign tourists who need directions. What emotions did you have when you spoke English? 

When asked why they want to learn English, many people answer about their sentiments rather than their language abilities.

People will say things such as: 

"I am not confident in speaking English."

"I'm afraid of English sounds bad."

"I want to feel better about my English."

If any of the following apply to you, I've compiled a list of recommendations for speaking English confidently. In this class, you'll discover several easy, practical ways to sound more confident while speaking English. 

What are the different sections in the IELTS Speaking module?

The IELTS Speaking module consists of 3 sections of an interview with an introduction and discussion on a particular topic. Five minutes are generally on parts 1,2 and 3. Timing will be 11 to 14 minutes respectively. 

Avoid thinking too much about English grammar and how to master English-speaking

Native speakers frequently break their own language's rules, but this does not indicate that it is necessary. Understanding grammatical rules is helpful, and you should ultimately understand them. On your priority list, these should come after additional English practice. Even if your grammar is terrible, you will most likely be understood. Grammar norms will begin to emerge when you lay greater focus on being understood.

You now understand how to speak English fluently, how to learn English speaking, how to improve English speaking, and spoken English suggestions for beginners. So, if you want to learn more about English speaking subtleties, join Dream 'n Destination, the Best English Speaking Institute in Jalandhar, which can help you enhance your speaking and communication abilities. Contact us at +91-88721-00290 or visit our official website https://dreamndestination.com/ 

[into-the-daniverse]

Camia’s Masterlist

Her Tags

✨ Camia ✨ Camia Vibes | inspiration, quotes, pictures, etc. ✨ Art of Camia | commissions, gifts, etc. ✨ Fic of Camia | fic not by me ✨ Camia’s Playlist | master of my fate

Full Name: Camía-Marie Baudelaire

Nicknames

“Camia” by everyone (this adjusted spelling of her name was created by Jamil on accident, and she stuck with it), “Cami” by most friends/lovers, “Mia” by Rosalia/any lover, “rabbit” by Ignatius

General Age: 42 in Arcana Universe (by end of all routes), 24 in Ethari Universe

Birthday: January 1st

Gender/Sexuality: Lesbian woman (she/her)

Astrology: Capricorn Sun, Taurus Moon, Aries Rising

Patron Arcana: Queen of Pentacles

Upright — caring, practical, comforting, generous

Reversed — insecure, dangerous, possessive

all other information + ship fics under the cut!

Important Relationships

Bénédict Baudelaire, he/him — Camia’s father

Régine-Amélie De la Rue, she/her — Camia’s mother

Ignatius Luc Baudelaire, he/him — Camia’s older brother by 10 years

Viviane Aurore Baudelaire, she/her — Camia’s younger sister by 8 years

Fabien Corin Baudelaire, he/him — Camia’s great-grandfather, who she inherited her magic from

Jamil Alfonso Parsa-D’Oria, he/him — Camia’s best friend, in most universes they have known each other since they were 12 years old

Leon (Zhu-Jin Lian), he/they — Camia’s other best friend, usually meet when she and Jamil are 19, and they are 17

Alec al-Saleh, she/her — Camia’s surrogate daughter/younger sibling figure

Rosalia Luna Santana, she/her — Camia’s girlfriend/lover in most universes, deceased in Arcana Universe

Familiar: Missy the Fire Salamander

Their Tag

Introduction Post

Favorite Meal: Salmon Sushi

Favorite Drink: Scotch

Favorite Flower: Black Dahlia

Magic: Elemental Magic (Fire)

Present mostly in Arcana Universe, she does not have magic in Ethari Universe

She can conjure and control flames, heat, etc. and they are usually produced from her hands, mouth, and head

Her flames are always blue, extremely hot and extremely dangerous, especially to herself if she is not actively controlling them, and they are linked to her emotions

Had a lot of trouble controlling her magic when she was young—but that didn’t stop her parents from making her fight at the Coliseum (or in other universes, otherwise capitalizing off of her magic)

She tries to only use her magic for emergencies as she still finds it hard to control

Any other kind of magic that Camia casts has to be done using spells or other channels, as her elemental magic won’t allow much wiggle room

She can’t heal, but she does know how to create potions for healing

Other Skills: Propagating and taking care of plants, fencing, baking, singing, playing the violin and the piano, speaks 5 languages fluently and can read/write in 3 additional languages including multiple dialects of sign

Appearance

Height: 6′2″ (187cm)

Hair: Medium brown, usually buzzed or completely gone

Eyes: Caramel brown

Details

Her head is bald, instead of hair she has severe burn scars from an accident when she was young, so she generally doesn’t go without one of her many scarves

Long scar on her face from the right side of her temple, crossing down over her nose, ending on her left cheek

Always wears black lipstick

Background

Arcana Universe

Camia was born in Vesuvia and lived with her parents and her brother until she was 8 years old. Around the time Viviane was born, Camia’s magic woke up, leaving her hurt and scarred, and Bénédict took her to train as a gladiator at the Coliseum in order to carry on the tradition started by her great-grandfather.

When she was 12, after her first real fight where she ended up killing her opponent and gaining the scar across her face, Camia fled the Coliseum and Vesuvia, running until she reached Prakra. There she met Jamil, and the two became fast friends, and she traveled with him wherever his mother sent him until they were both 18.

Camia helped Jamil run away from his family, and the two made their way to Zadith, where they met Leon. After a fight between him and Camia, Leon joined the two as they traveled, avoiding Jamil’s mother at all costs.

When she was 23, and Jamil was called back to Prakra, she met Alec along with Jamil and Leon, after the girl stole Jamil’s guitar, and she traveled with them. When Camia was 33, she met Alec’s friend Rosalia, and the two of them started a close relationship, to where Camia was preparing to propose to Rosalia, but never got the chance to before she died of the plague, and Camia was 37. A year later, Alec died as well, and Camia moved back to Vesuvia with Jamil and Leon.

After Alec’s resurrection, the three of them had to leave Vesuvia, and Camia bought a small hut in the Catclaw desert, a few days travel from Vesuvia. In the game timeline, she lives there with Leon and waits for Jamil to come back, and for them to be able to see Alec again when her memories return. She does appear by the end of most routes.

Arcana Universe — REVERSED

Referring to in tags as my reversed AU, Camia never leaves Vesuvia and never meets Jamil, Leon, or Alec.

When she tries to run from the Coliseum, she is caught, and spends the rest of her life—until the Coliseum is eventually shut down—as a gladiator, named the Flame of Vesuvia. When the Coliseum is shut down, she has nowhere to go, her family having long since moved from the main city and abandoned her, so she leaves Vesuvia and heads south, spending the rest of her days in the cold of the Southern Spines.

Ethari Universe

Similarly to Jamil, Camia was raised in a life of privilege, and the two of them met early on through their families. However, Camia became aware of the political power and corruption that her family was directly responsible for much earlier than Jamil did, and she began her own research on the Scholars. After Jamil’s friend disappeared, he and Camia worked to investigate the disappearance, and came across Leon, who was in the process of being captured when they helped him escape.

For the next few years, after cutting most ties with their families, they tried to find out why the Scholars were capturing magic users, while also traveling and surveying local rebellions against unjust leaders. They were mostly passive observers until they met Rosalia, who convinced the three of them to join the fight again the Scholars and their process of appointing leaders to countries against the people’s wants. Camia and Rosalia fell in love, the two of them working more closely together than anyone else.

When Rosalia was captured by the Scholars organization, and Camia injured, Jamil and Leon promised to help her find Rosalia. For a few years they searched for her, until finally they got a tip that she was being transferred from one prison to another. However, upon arriving to the village she was supposed to be in, they ran into Alec instead as she fled, and they decided to protect and help her.

Modern AU

Born in New York, Camia worked to separate herself from her family from an early age, and ended up with a plant propagation business, where she sends out cuttings of plants through an Etsy shop. She met Leon while looking for a roommate, and he helped her with her plants for a few years. While taking a few classes at a university, she met Jamil, and they both decided to drop out and completely cut ties with their families.

After Jamil moved in with Leon and Camia, the three of them decided to start a band, initially only playing locally for a year or so until they found Alec through YouTube. After asking her to join them as the Desert Jackals, they recorded and released their first album a few years later, and have toured most of North America with plans to tour internationally. Camia still manages her plant shop, but she has hired people to watch it while she is out of state.

Ship Fics

✨ Camia x Amparo | ampamia

By me

Take Me Home

By @sunrisenfool

Kiss Prompt — gentle kiss to the back of the hand

Come For Me 🍋

✨ Camia x Grier

By @apprentice-vissenta

Sound Check

All I Want Is To Be Your Girl 🍋

Shower Time 🍋

Kiss Prompt 5 — hand pressing under the other person’s top, making them gasp

✨ Camia x Miriyam

By @valhallanrose

Kiss Prompt 22 — a kiss that is leading to more, but is interrupted

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Shaw’s S2 R&S - What is known as amazing the world

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a Rumours & Secrets, 所谓一鸣惊人, which has not been released in EN! 🍒

This R&S features S2 Shaw, but no knowledge of S2 is required to enjoy this~

In terms of sequencing, this is Shaw’s third S2 R&S!

[ Chapter One ]

When mentioning the tutor of the Archaeology Department in Loveland University, Professor Shen deserves greatest respect. Precisely because of the high academic requirements, he had not recruited graduate students in recent years. However, he didn't find anything wrong with this. He occasionally taught undergraduates, then immersed himself in his own academic research. His days followed a pretty regular pattern.

During such an ordinary time, Professor Shen met Shaw for the first time.

The day he interviewed Shaw was also the warmest afternoon in the late spring of Loveland City. The sycamore trees on both sides of the road were working hard to produce new buds. Professor Shen carried a pile of materials, walking across the sunny open space to the building where the graduate students were sitting for the second round of examinations.

So far, he had re-examined five students. Their performances were very mediocre, and there was still quite a lot of distance from his expectations. However, the student to be re-examined later was slightly different. The materials showed that he was directly recommended to him by Loveland University. Based on his age, he should be a young student. Amidst the twenty-five, twenty-six, and even older re-examinees, he had subconsciously left an impression on Professor Shen.

After dusting off the sycamore puffs that had fallen on his shoulders, Professor Shen entered the classroom. Before long, what accompanied the hands of the clock reaching 2pm were two beeps at the door of the classroom.

"Hello teacher, my name's Shaw.”

Hearing this, Professor Shen lifted his head. The boy at the door was indeed very young, but his flamboyant bluish purple short hair, incomparably avant-garde clothes, and flat expression without much of a smile rendered Professor Shen stunned for a second or two. But he quickly smoothened his expression, warmly beckoning Shaw to enter.

The student named Shaw wasn’t reserved at all. He sat down naturally on the chair in the middle, placing a black schoolbag casually at his feet.

Whether he was making judgments based on appearances or was no longer holding much hope, at that moment, Professor Shen thought that this was another interview where he would simply go through the motions. He raised some standard questions. Unexpectedly, Shaw actually answered them decently. Professor Shen's spirits gradually rose.

"What you wrote about in your undergraduate thesis was..." Professor Shen flipped through the materials in his hands. Just as he found the information, a clear voice sounded fluently. "《A Statistical Analysis of the Age and Gender of Human Skeletons Unearthed in Xushan》. It includes the basic condition of the unearthed human bones, any damage, pathological changes, as well as an analysis of the population and health of that period.”

"Does this mean you’re interested in physical anthropology?" Professor Shen pushed the glasses on the bridge of his nose, staring at Shaw with interest. "In that case, why did you apply to be my graduate student?" He needed to know that Professor Shen’s research direction was mainly on the appreciation of ancient appliances and field archaeology.

Faced with Professor Shen's sharp and intense gaze, Shaw didn’t panic at all. He shifted his overlapped legs, arching his eyebrows slightly. “Physical anthropology is a field that I wasn’t really familiar with, so I wanted to challenge it to learn more. Teacher's research direction is what I’m truly interested in." After he finished speaking, he added, "By the way, if I have the chance, I’d like to participate in field work a few times."

"Oh? The graduation thesis is such an important aspect. Isn’t challenging a new field very risky?" Professor Shen continued to probe.

Hearing this question, the corners of Shaw’s lips slanted, revealing his first smile of the day. However, there was an incredibly serious look in his eyes. He didn’t give a direct answer, but spoke leisurely, word by word. "Archaeology has always been a risk where expectations may end up fruitless. Don’t you agree?”

The re-examination and what Shaw said greatly exceeded Professor Shen's initial expectations. Outstanding schoolwork, comprehensive knowledge and an open-minded attitude. Except for seeming rather brash and conceited, Professor Shen wasn’t able to find fault with him at that moment. He drew a circle on Shaw's materials, then lifted his head to ask the final question:

"Student Shaw seems to be a young man with a lot of personality. So why did you choose the archaeology major that most people find boring?”

-

[ Chapter Two ]

The new semester has commenced for almost two weeks. For Professor Shen, aside from the need to attend a few more professional courses, his teaching life doesn’t seem to have changed much. He hasn't taken a graduate student in two years, and he hasn't gotten used to it yet. Fortunately, Shaw has never been someone who would simply wait passively.

After class this morning, Professor Shen returns to the office. Right after opening the stack of archaeological reports he’s been reading recently, there’s a sudden knock at the door.

"Shaw, is there a problem?" Professor Shen removes his reading glasses and asks composedly.

Shaw has a black backpack slung over one shoulder. He strides over to Professor Shen's desk. Scratching his own hair casually, he speaks with laziness in his tone. “Professor, you gave too little homework. Can’t you assign more?”

Professor Shen suddenly chuckles. Even though it’s only been two weeks since school started, he has already seen Shaw's agile mind and excellent learning speed. Professor Shen isn’t surprised by Shaw's request. But in his opinion, being overly eager isn’t always a good sign to rely on.

Professor Shen ponders for a moment, puts on his glasses again, then says to Shaw, "There’s another assignment, but I don't know if you’d be willing to do it.”

“Tell me about it?”

“You could draw pictures of the flowerbeds in school and objects in the classroom, then practice your fundamental sketching skills.”

Treating flower beds as ruins and objects as appliances is a method that many archaeology students use when practising sketching. But when this assignment comes out of Professor Shen's mouth...

Shaw sweeps a glance at the genial Professor Shen as he sits behind the desk. He purses his lips. Without a word, he hauls up his backpack and turns around, walking towards the office door. Just as he’s about to leave, he turns slightly with a soft “hmph”.

He doesn’t know if Professor Shen heard this sound, nor does he care that much. After all, he has once again immersed himself in the pile of archaeology reports.

-

Just after 5pm, Professor Shen hurries to a research meeting while carrying documents.

The sky at the end of summer is still very bright, clear and azure, without a single shadow of dusk. Professor Shen turns around a corner, and suddenly finds that the back not too far ahead is very familiar - the bluish-purple hair is one of the few in the whole of Loveland University, and he knows at a glance that it’s Shaw. And in front of Shaw, facing Professor Shen’s direction, is a girl with short hair and dressed in a delicate manner.

Professor Shen walks closer and closer. He’s unable to hear what the girl says, and only sees the shy expression on her face.

“Hey, I’m rushing to the band. You’re in the way.” Shaw’s voice is very cold, and even somewhat impatient. The girl seems a little reluctant to withdraw, and reaches out to grab Shaw. However, Shaw turns sideways and steps backwards, dodging instantly. At this point, Shaw knits his brows tightly, his eyes dyed with a sharp and impatient light. “I’ll repeat myself for the last time. I’m. Not. Interested.”

After saying this with a decisive attitude, Shaw walks away.

Walking from behind Shaw to a different branch of the corridor, Professor Shen grips the documents tightly. Actually, whether a student likes to be in a band or is adored by girls, these things belonging to the private lives of students aren’t what he’s interested in nor what he has ever interfered in. To him, what students place value on most are the quality of learning and professionalism. As for other things...

Professor Shen glances at his watch and subconsciously speeds up his pace. While he hurries, he hopes that his original judgment was correct, and hopes that Shaw is indeed a good successor worth cultivating, just as he appeared during the re-examination.

-

[ Chapter 3 ]

A week passes by suddenly.

Sitting at the desk which receives plentiful sunlight, Professor Shen flips through the stack of sketching assignments that Shaw had just handed in, an imperceptible smile of satisfaction on his lips.

In addition to printed computer drawings, another half are hand-drawn sketches by Shaw using a pen, and they are of pretty good quality. Over the years, Professor Shen had seen too many young kids neglecting hand-drawn sketches because they relied too much on computer drawings. No matter what decade it is, the most primitive and foundational skills should be the most solid.

The sense of gratification causes Professor Shen to sigh. However, the page he just flipped to causes him to stop abruptly - this is obviously not part of the drawing assignment. It looks like an analysis report... Professor Shen props up his glasses, reading it carefully from the beginning. Then, he realises that this is an analysis of archaeological reports. Flipping to the back roughly, he finds that coincidentally, this analysis is targeted at the stack of archaeological reports Professor Shen had been reading recently.

With no time to be surprised, Professor Shen straightens his back in an instant, sits up straight, and reads the analysis written by Shaw from start to finish carefully. Whether it’s the standardised writing format, the hypothesis proposed in response to pictures and existing materials, or the objectivity of the comparisons drawn, they can already be regarded as the standard of a professional. 

Even though he doesn’t know where Shaw obtained the archaeological reports, what is undeniable is that he used his "little brain". But what is even more undeniable is that just by skimming through the analysis, Professor Shen can see Shaw’s solid foundational and expansive knowledge.

Through this unassigned piece of homework, Professor Shen feels that what he sees isn’t just a very young student who’s just beginning graduate school. What’s displayed before his eyes is Shaw’s undiscovered potential and possibilities.

Professor Shen gets a full glass of water from the water dispenser, and Biluochun leaves twirl and dance in the transparent glass. He walks over to the window, blowing at the mouth of the cup. Then, he takes a few sips of tea slowly, appearing to be in a good mood.

In his mind, he recalls the content of the analysis report, as well as Shaw's appearance when he came to submit his assignment early in the morning.

At that time, his steps were confident and full of vigour. He walked straight to the table to set down his assignment, then raised his eyebrows in glowing spirits. "Professor, remember to read till the end."

Now that he thinks about it, Professor Shen seems to taste the unhesitating confidence and the unwillingness to admit defeat in Shaw's eyes that he didn’t notice before.

It looks like this kid felt that he was being underestimated before. Full of pent up grievances, he wanted to prove his capabilities! This was simply his slightly awkward yet incomparably confident demeanour...

Professor Shen sighs softly, then can’t help but chuckle.

Before him, the sun is still climbing up at 10am, but the radiance of sunlight is already incomparably dazzling.

-

[ Chapter Four ]

After a few autumn rains, Loveland City gradually turns cooling. Professor Shen's body isn’t very good, so he puts on a thick coat early.

On this day, Professor Shen comes to the office with a briefcase as usual. He methodically prepares Biluochun, takes out his materials and pen, and puts on his glasses. Just as he’s about to start work, the new young lecturer Xiao Fu suddenly turns to his desk while holding his phone. “Professor Shen, look at this quickly. This boy in the middle looks like your graduate student!"

“Why do I feel as if he might be that student of yours?" Teacher Fu looks increasingly certain that he’s correct. "I met him several times before. It’s that cool and triumphant look. Even the colour of his hair matches!"

Professor Shen lowers his head, pulling down his glasses, and the image on the phone screen is displayed in an instant. It seems to be a video of a performance. The musicians on stage are very lively, and the atmosphere under the stage seems to be extraordinarily enthusiastic. The person playing the bass intently and fervently in the middle - who else could he be but Shaw?

Even before Professor Shen speaks, Teacher Fu has already affirmed to himself. “That’s right, it’s him! I remember someone mentioning that he was in band, but I didn't expect him to look like this...”

Professor Shen's eyes are still focused on the phone screen. In the video, Shaw has the youthful vigour that he can only have at his age. He’s full of spirit, rebellious and eccentric, and exudes fervent vitality. He can attract everyone’s attention almost instantly, as though he's a natural focal point.

But such a Shaw seems slightly foreign to Professor Shen. In the past two or three months, the Shaw he has seen is a graduate student who rushes to and from school, but is very earnest in his specialised course, and is also very meticulous in research.

Teacher Fu has already taken his phone away and returned to his own desk. Professor Shen’s gaze returns to his materials, but there are still some emotions stirring in his heart.

The more interactions he has with Shaw, the more Professor thinks that he’s akin to a treasure. Although he may make someone feel conflicted, he always brings unexpected surprises to others. Initially, Professor Shen thought there might only be jade here. But after more digging, he found calligraphy and paintings and utensils. Thinking that this would be the end, taking a turn resulted in the digging of gold, silver, copper and iron. As for whether there would be other treasures in the future...

Knock knock.

Hearing knocks at the door, Professor Shen lifts his head instinctively - truly, speak of the devil.

"Professor, I came to ask about something." Shaw strides over. Standing before the desk, Shaw looks at Professor Shen with an indifferent expression, as if he’s just speaking thoughtlessly. "I heard that the excavation and inspection of the Hou Yin Tan site will be carried out soon. Anyway, my usual assignments aren’t urgent. I’m thinking of strolling around the area with you.”

Through the spectacle lenses, Professor Shen looks at the seemingly expressionless Shaw, and can’t help but chuckle.

He thinks to himself - perhaps no one has told Shaw that even though he always uses nonchalance as a cover, the insuppressible earnestness in his eyes are unable to conceal his genuine anticipation.

-

[ Chapter 5 ]

The excavation work has commenced for over a month, and everything is proceeding on tenterhooks and in an orderly manner.

Field excavation has always been a bitter and boring part of archaeological work. In addition to digging for long hours in a desolate field, it’s also common to find nothing after digging till the end. At the very least, Shaw has already experienced it several times this month.

It’s another cold and windy morning. Professor Shen comes to the excavation site early, only to find that Shaw hasn’t arrived yet, which is rare. Something noteworthy is that Shaw has been coming here earlier than him every day. But within a few minutes, Shaw appears, walking over while talking on the phone. Something is said on the other end of the line. Shaw arches his eyebrows in his signature style. "Tch, so long-winded... Got it.”

Professor Shen notices a cute rabbit pendant dangling from the bottom of Shaw’s phone, though he doesn’t know when it first appeared. He shows a smile of understanding, no longer paying attention to Shaw's actions, lowering his head to start a new day of work. After a while, a number of villagers from the vicinity also come over and they all greet Shaw first.

This is also something Professor Shen noticed on hindsight. At some point in time, Shaw had established a rapport with the villagers. Having the villagers in the vicinity cooperate and even participate in an amiable manner is another very important part of field excavation. In this aspect, Shaw's performance can be regarded as attaining a satisfactory full marks.

"Professor, leave the rest of the shaving to me." Shaw squats down beside Professor Shen, holding a shovel in his hand. Professor Shen doesn’t immediately express his opinion. Instead, he smiles slightly. "Finished your call with your girlfriend?" Shaw averts his eyes in a hurry, which is rare. He purses his lips. “Who said that she’s... Professor, don’t get infected by Mr Fu’s gossip.” Professor Shen chuckles while standing up slowly. Then, he pats Shaw on the shoulder. "I'll take a look at the pit."

Shaving is time-consuming and hard work, let alone shaving in winter. In spite of thin sunlight, the bitter cold wind hovers over the site, causing Shaw's nose to redden unknowingly. His ripped jeans have long since been covered in dust, and even his originally shiny earrings are coated in ash. Even so, Shaw simply kneels on the ground with ease, cleaning the ground while holding the shovel firmly, shovelling the ground and four walls carefully.

The shaving takes five hours.

Dinner naturally consists of a group of people eating together. When Shaw arrives, he has already taken a shower and is restored to a clean and refreshed state. However, when using chopsticks to pick out vegetables, Professor Shen notices his unusual behaviour immediately: he rarely moves his chopsticks, and he has been picking the vegetables slower than usual. After a few more glances, Professor Shen realises that his hands had turned swollen during the five consecutive hours of shaving.

Despite this, even after the meal is over, Shaw doesn’t say a word or complain at all.

Professor Shen is even more satisfied with the only graduate student he has. He can’t help but compliment him coolly. "You’ve done a good job recently. If you want to learn archeology properly, you must have this earnestness and inextinguishable momentum."

Shaw pauses for a second, but still has that triumphant expression when he speaks. "That goes without saying." But Professor Shen clearly sees how Shaw's eyes had lit up in an instant, and how his brows raised involuntarily.

Professor Shen smiles while shaking his head, looking at Shaw whose words don’t match his genuine feelings. He doesn’t know what Shaw experienced, and perhaps his cynicism is to some extent a defence mechanism. As long as he pretends not to care, there will never come a time when his expectations come to naught. And this also gives him a chance to rewind the situation. Even though amazing the world with brilliant feats bring with it surprises, it occasionally makes Professor Shen feel that what he’s doing is akin to a child looking forward to rewards...

With this thought in mind, Professor Shen smiles while walking away.

-

When Professor Shen arrives the next morning, many people are already surrounding the area. There’s an interview with the TV station today, and Professor Shen had long since pushed Shaw out. A young man with such an advantageous appearance is suitable to be on TV.

As expected, the host is holding the microphone and conducting the interview. Looking at Shaw’s knitted brows, Professor Shen can't help but laugh, knowing that he’s trying his best to answer patiently. At this moment, the host suddenly asks a rather familiar question. "Why are you studying archaeology?"

This question seems to pull time backwards to more than half a year ago, when Professor Shen met Shaw for the first time -

"Student Shaw seems to be a young man with a lot of personality. So why did you choose the archaeology major that most people find boring?”

Shaw arches his eyebrows. "Because I like it." He lifts his chin slightly, showing a determined smile. "Isn't liking something the greatest display of personality?”

More from S2: here

[teawaffles]

There’s No Business Like Show Business: Chapter 5, Part 1

T/N: This is one super-long chapter ( ; ω ; ) so it has been split into 2 parts.

One week later. This was the night Maya’s company had been invited to perform.

The West End of London, stretching from Soho to Covent Garden, was renowned for its large theatre district, crowded with historic names such as the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, Haymarket Theatre, and St James’s Theatre, in addition to newer entrants. [1]

Right in the centre of the district was Piccadilly Circus. At this time in history, the “Eros” fountain had yet to be built [2]. Here was the intersection of numerous thoroughfares, with pedestrians and horse-drawn carriages coming and going, day and night — the busiest spot in London.

It was here that a certain elderly noblewoman drove past in a carriage. But the next moment, she saw a strange sight in the middle of the square, and ordered her coachman to stop the carriage.

“……My word, what could that be?”

The words fell from her lips.

In the centre of the square was a simple stage about ten metres wide, composed of wooden boxes placed together and covered with boards. Passers-by had stopped to look out of curiosity, and a small crowd began to form.

After a short while, a lone woman appeared on stage.

She wore a sky-blue dress and a long, blonde wig. The crowd stared blankly as she gave a reverent bow.

“——Ladies and gentlemen, good evening. We are a small theatre company hailing from the East End. I am Maya, its chairperson.”

She raised her head, and gazed upon the whole of Piccadilly Circus.

“You may be feeling confused as to why a stage has suddenly occupied the Circus, but first, let me express our deepest gratitude that we, a theatre company of humble origins, have been able to meet you in this miraculous way.”

Her dignified voice resounded across the square, causing a stir among the onlookers. As more people noticed what was happening and gathered in droves, the crowd encircling the stage gradually expanded.

“Without further ado, let us bring you a little dream in a fantastic world.”

Maya ended her introduction with a graceful bow. Then, a man appeared on stage. Facing the crowd, he began to speak in a sonorous voice.

“It was a radiant afternoon filled with golden sunshine. A boat cruised leisurely down the river. Small, young hands gripped the oars. They seemed to lack strength: rising nimbly, then falling left and right as if to guide the oars’ movements.”

“……Hmm?”

The crowd listened intently as he narrated, with accompanying hand gestures.

“Oh, how terrible: what a cruel fate this is, to meet three girls! I’m all warm and sleepy. But still you wish to talk to me! You move my feathers, and do not breathe. But I’m all alone. I’m no match for the three of you.”

“This— Could it be……?” someone in the audience murmured.

With his monologue complete, the man took his leave. Then, another woman appeared at a corner of the stage. Holding a book in one hand, she began to read fluently from it.

“Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank——”

In tandem with the narrator’s words, the blonde-haired Maya gave a small yawn. It was as if she had swapped places with a young girl herself. Without realising it, the audience held their breath.

Then from the side of the stage, a person appeared wearing a vest and rabbit’s ears, with a pocket-watch in one hand.

By this time, the crowd encircling the stage had become fully spellbound.

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

“——All the world’s a stage. And the men and women merely players.” [3]

An actor delivered his lines from the stage of a gorgeous West End theatre, as its owner, a nobleman, looked on from the box seats.

The actor himself knew the height of his fame, and hence his actions were somewhat egotistical. Nevertheless, these were the acting skills of a true professional: his clear, bright voice resounded in every corner of the intricately decorated theatre, delving into the ears of his audience, and producing an indescribable feeling in their chests.

His salary was eye-wateringly high, but evidently, it had been an excellent decision to hire this actor. Still, despite his self-satisfaction, the nobleman had a pained expression.

The reason for it was clear. This was a renowned theatre company famous for its acting talent. Even though it was their opening night — a momentous occasion, the stalls were unusually empty.

He’d made sure to advertise the play well in advance, so this was unexpected. As he admired the actors, who were not bothered in the least by the empty seats in the audience, the nobleman stood up and headed to the entrance.

“Hey, you. Haven’t there been any more visitors?”

He directed his question to the young man behind the ticket window.

“About that— Just a while ago, it seems a show’s begun at Piccadilly Circus.”

“A show?”

“Yeah, though I heard about it from someone else. A stage suddenly appeared in the middle of the square, and it looks like there’s a play being held. It’s about…… that; the one where a girl chases a rabbit and falls down a hole, uh……”

Those keywords alone led the nobleman to the answer.

“——Do you mean, ‘Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland’?”

The young man clapped his hands in appreciation.

“Oh, that’s right. Yeah, that.” He sighed wistfully. “Ahh, it brings me back: I read it when I was a child. And as I recall…… was it ‘Maya’? It seems that’s the chairwoman’s name.”

“Wha……!”

Upon hearing that name, the nobleman recoiled in shock.

“That theatre company from the slums?”

A play held on a stage that appeared out of nowhere. The young man saw it as a mere street performance, but to the nobleman, this was something different. As soon as the image of the perpetrators surfaced in his mind, his face turned red with anger.

An extraordinary turn of events, happening right on the opening night of an important production — as if it had been carefully planned to do so. In other words, Maya and her company had intended to sabotage his production out of spite, by putting up a play out of the blue, and not even in a proper theatre. That was what the nobleman concluded.

To add insult to injury, they had chosen to perform “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland”. To stand up to a classic with a piece of children’s literature. To pit Lewis Carroll against Shakespeare.

Although it was a ridiculous idea worthy of scorn, the fact remained that they had stolen his precious audience.

He posed a question to the young ticket seller.

“Well if that’s the case, wouldn’t there be a huge commotion? The Yard should be on to them any moment now.”

“That’s the thing…… It seems they’re already gone.”

Hearing that, the nobleman threw his head back in laughter.

“I told you so. It’s all because they’re out of their depth. They can recite their lines in jail for all I care.”

However, the young man made a troubled expression.

“Uh…… Sorry. I didn’t make myself clear. Actually it seems that after finishing one scene, they specified a different location, packed up their sets quickly and left.”

“……What?”

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

“You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Alice; a great girl like you, to go on crying in this way! Stop this moment, I tell you!”

Behind the church of St. Martin-in-the-Fields, in Trafalgar Square, Maya and her company acted out the scene in which Alice shrank and grew larger, panicking all the while. The front of the stage had been covered with a white cloth, and a light shone on it from the back, allowing them to show the changes in Alice’s size in the manner of shadow puppets. As Alice grew until her head struck the roof, the audience buzzed in excitement.

Watching from the wings of the stage, Bond could see that everything was proceeding smoothly.

His plan to demonstrate the true abilities of this company, was a moving theatre that roamed all around the city of London—— a “guerrilla theatre”.

They would perform in busy areas to attract people’s attention, then quickly cut off their act and leave before the authorities arrived to stop them. After which, they would continue the performance at another location. One could say this method was the exact opposite of performing in an officially-recognised theatre.

There was a reason why they had changed the contents of their play. As their original performance comprised three short stories, there was a concern that the audience would grow bored after watching just one scene. However, staging a full-length play across various locations would keep up their interest for the next scene.

In addition, “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland” took place in a nonsensical, chaotic world, with no apparent connection between its acts. As a well-known story in itself, anyone joining in halfway would still be able to enjoy their performance — a perfect work to be presented in this manner.

The main issue was the acting, but that was helped by their practice in performing on a big stage.

As part of this plan, the play they would put up was not of the type that drew the audience’s attention to the stage right from the start, but rather one that was performed outdoors to people passing by. Hence they would have to project their voices and exaggerate their actions, but this was simply an extension of the two weeks’ practice they had done before.

Moreover, Maya and her company had extensive experience in performing children’s literature, with a focus on ease of understanding, so much so that they had almost learned the entire tale by heart. Memorising their lines had been no trouble at all.

Furthermore, the preparations at each of the locations they moved to — the very heart of the operation — were borne by the East End residents, who appreciated their performances.

The plan inevitably required manpower, but there would be no point in Bond providing it. However, with the trust of their fellow residents, Maya and her company had managed to recruit the stage crew by themselves. This achievement was their own.

As the company performed in one location, the stage crew would set up the temporary stages in the other locations across the city. They had accepted the company’s request with pleasure, and Bond couldn’t thank them enough for the depth of their kindness.

As he looked upon the crowd, all standing with eyes locked upon the stage, Bond chuckled.

——Even without a theatre, there would always be a place for acting.

It had been a wild idea to turn the city of London into their stage. But the East End residents lent them their support. And Maya and her company were putting up an excellent performance.

In a manner of speaking, this play was an all-out challenge from the people from the East End, to the gilded theatres of the West End.

Ten minutes till showtime. The players announced the location of their next act, then quickly descended from the stage.

“I’ll be leaving the cleanup to you then,” Bond addressed the remaining crew at the square. Then he directed the actors to board the carriages he had prepared. Taking the reins of one himself, he urged the horses forward in a gallop.

“Um, we owe it to you that our audience has enjoyed our play thus far, but…… I’m not sure if we can continue to do so,” Maya asked with a worried look.

Hearing that, the other actors in the carriage, who’d been going over their lines, turned solemn.

Although things had been going well so far, if their acts attracted too large a commotion, it stood to reason that Scotland Yard would put its full attention into stopping the play. Moreover, bad actors may also seek to take advantage of the hubbub. As far as possible, they wished to avoid their audience falling victim to crime.

Bond fully understood their apprehension. Because of that, he kept calm as he reassured them.

“Not to worry. I have some dependable colleagues.”

Saying that, he gazed in the direction the carriage was going, and smiled.

“It’s a popular saying, isn’t it? The show must go on.”

The curtains had been raised. Now all that was left, was to play their roles to the end.

Footnotes:

[1] This district is known as Theatreland (Wikipedia). The first two theatres listed are still standing, with St James’s Theatre having been demolished in 1957.

[2] If you were to go to Piccadilly Circus now, you would see a very prominent bronze fountain with a statue of a winged angel on top. Actually, the statue isn’t of the Greek god Eros at all. (Wikipedia)

[3] A line from Shakespeare’s As You Like It (Wikipedia).

Translator’s notes:

Quotes from Alice in Wonderland All dialogues from the East Enders’ production have been heavily referenced from the Project Gutenberg version of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, by Lewis Carroll.

Thinking about what year the series was set in In this chapter, we learn that the “Eros” fountain hasn’t been built yet — it was unveiled only in June 1893. But we know some events of the Phantom of Whitechapel arc, such as when the people of Whitechapel formed a militia, did take place in history — these were broadly in the autumn of 1888. So this actually works out, and gives us a sense of when the events of the manga unfolded.

Edit: The manga seems to be canonically taking place between 1879-1882 latest — you can read my analysis here!

Piccadilly Circus in 1868 This is entirely for fun — here’s a screenshot from the game Assassin’s Creed: Syndicate (set in London 1868), with Evie standing at Piccadilly Circus:

I couldn’t find any pictures of the Circus from before the “Eros” fountain was built, but in Yuumori’s time, it would’ve still had the circular shape shown here. When Shaftesbury Avenue was built in 1886, it transformed Piccadilly Circus from a circle into the sort-of trapezoid crossroads layout it has retained today (British History Online).

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Caesar and the MC should be Best Friends - Hear me out

This sounds really strange at first to hear. But the game did a terrible job of summarizing the story and showing the characters. The MC should be Best Friends with Caesar, check out why, below the cut.

Act One: The Premise (The MC will be referred to as Female because my character is female and I’m too lazy)

The MC has been trained to fight and use her abilities since she was a child. She’s been competing against others for the privilege of being the best as well. By the time she’s arrived at Cassell, she’s seen horrors that not even the Cassell Trio can boast of seeing.

Caesar in the meantime is planning his wedding. But Nono is AWOL. He’s getting no feedback from her and it leaves him just shooting in the dark for what ‘sounds cool’ For all of Caesar’s big talk, he realizes that he’s not really reaching Nono’s heart and he’s feeling a bit lost.

In the game: You save Nono in the game. 

Why you would grow closer to Caesar: This is not easily reconcilable with the novel’s opening scenes, so if we stretch and pretend you arrive before Nono goes on her Walkabout, that would make one HECK of an impression on Caesar. He would have seen immediately that you are a step far above Luminous. Being a self-described ‘maniac’ he would not have been shy about approaching you and telling you you’re 10x what Luminous is.

Caesar is mischaracterized in the game to a great extent. While his misogynstic leanings and need to be ‘tHe LeADer’ is played up probably for laughs, he’s not that over the top. Here’s how he’s portrayed in the Novel.

Anjou put the two of them (Caesar and Chu Zihang) together and actually wanted them to sincerely cooperate? The move was similar to keeping lions and tigers in a cage, with Lu Mingfei stuffed between them like an innocent red panda. But Caesar decided to do his best, because this time he is the team leader. The success or failure of the task related to his honor, and for honor, he can bear anything. Along the way, he repeatedly warned himself to be generous, to have a leadership style, to be a corporal... Take Chu Zihang as a corporal to "victory", Caesar's heart is much more comfortable. This time he is immersed in the pink mood of preparing for the wedding, and he is feeling very charitable, even to Chu Zihang this serial killer looks more appealing.

There’s no way Caesar would ignore you as the MC. You would be of utmost interest to him. Far more interesting than Chu Zihang and Luminous. He takes responsibility for you as part of the team, he owes you one for Nono, and wants to see you succeed, probably more than anyone else there.

Act 2: Your arrival in Japan

The game skips the whole opening sequence introducing you to Chisei and Sakura. In the novel, those fancy Kimonos were given to you by Anjou and yes they all come with umbrellas. The whole scene is supposed to be funny. Chisei is mistaken for a tour guide, Lu Mingfei compliments Chisei’s Chinese in his own broken Japanese and fantasizes about cute maid cafes, Chu Zihang freaks Chisei out with his golden eyes by accident. So I imagine the MC stumbling and falling trying to walk in Geta.

But things get serious when the police show up and you realize that you’ve entered the country illegally and are now about to get arrested. The MC might voice that this make sense “Because I don’t have a passport or any identity. There was no way I’d ever get into the country.”

After Chisei loses the police, you’re taken to your rooms to stay for the night.

I wrote a little piece about this ‘here’

Why the MC and Caesar would grow closer: At the end of this scene, Caesar is completely isolated, drinking in his room and texting a silent Nono. This scene would change with you as the MC there. This would turn into an opportunity for you to bond. Perhaps you would notice him texting, talking about his love of Nono. You could touch on your past with him for the first time, or not, depending. He’d probably say something enthusiastically fiery and confidence building. He wants you to trust him and trust in yourself. For all his flaws, Caesar is very LIKEABLE and easy to understand. You don’t get into positions of power like his without some level of Charisma.

Act 3: The Mission Details

In the Game: This whole scene goes missing. 

In the Novel: You take a whirlwind tour of Genji Heavy Industries. It’s an engineering marvel that is practically embedded in the central infrastructure of Tokyo (The building is seriously impossible and amazing but that’s for a nother post.). 

You sit down with Masamune for tea. Immediately, something jumps out at Caesar.

“Are you Japanese?” Caesar gave Masamune Tachibana an examining look..

"I'm only half Japanese and the other half Russian." Tachibana said.

Caesar frowned, which made him think of the soviet icebreaker Lenin involuntarily.

"I've been in Japan for many years, and a lot of people don't see that I'm half Russian, Mr. Gattuso.” Tachibana said, inquiringly.

"Accents, your accents have Slavic characteristics, and you'll distinguish between hard and soft consonants, which are typical Russian pronunciations." Caesar said, "You're not just Of Russian Descent, You've Lived In Russia." 

This is Lu Mingfei and Chu Zihang have no say in the matter since their two mother tongues are Chinese. But Caesar was aware when he heard the first words of Tachibana Masamune. He grew up as a different kind of man who could speak English, French and Spanish fluently in addition to Italian, and he could tell the language characteristics of every language spoken in Europe.

Even the wind demon villain Lang and yuan child in this seat are showing a surprised expression, it is clear that other owners do not know this matter.

Why this would bring you closer to Caesar: Not only would you pick up on the exact same thing, but he would speak with the same Russian accent as the MC. Languages are regional, Russia is a HUGE FREAKING COUNTRY. It would be no mistake that the Russian accent - Tachibana’s Russian accent - would match the MCs regional one.  Depending on how much your MC would have told Caesar, Caesar would have picked up a whole lot. Why you were awakened now, why you were sent on this mission... but that’s not even all!!

Later on, Chisei shows up after Tachibana leaves. He’s given you more information on the Lenin and why its sinking seems suspicious. But then he says this.

"Yes, the Lenin passed through the nameless port of northern Siberia, took a precious dragon embryo, and the port was destroyed in a fire. No one knows where the embryo is going to be shipped, the final destination may be Japan, or it may just pass by, but apparently it failed to reach its destination and the dragon embryo fell into the depths of the trench. Embryos have been hatching slowly over the years, but we haven't been aware of them. ”

Now depending on how much your MC might tell Caesar at this point he may or may not notice more parallels between the story of the Lenin and your story. You’re a hybrid, from Siberia who survived not just a fire but a bombs and getting shot. Heck imagine being the MC listening to this and realizing that this mission is intimately connected with you. In the game this happens way late, but in the novel it’s right at the start!

Why this would bring you closer to Caesar: At this point none of this would have been shared between any of the others. This is something only Caesar and you would know, shared knowlege that would likely mentally bond you two as allies.

The next scene is just more obvious bonding time. They all discuss likes and dislikes, their personal goals, dreams, loves, and ideals. The MC would still have Caesars favor but Caesar would fall more and more for Chisei’s charms. He’s bored and wants to see some ‘real gangster’ stuff. So Chisei obliges and takes Caesar to an operation between two rival gangs fighting over turf. 

This would be the first time you’ve seen Caesar actually get serious for once intimidating some gangsters in a comic store. But after that’s all over, he immediately gets interested in the comics. This is very important to note that Caesar is rarely serious about anything. And if he is it doesn’t last long. He tells a long story about wanting a PS2, staying up all night to play Star Ocean when the housekeeper smashed his console. So he purchased 200 consoles, gave the housekeeper an axe and every time he smashed a console he replaced it immediately and kept playing. Finally, they let him play video games 2hours a day after his riding lessons.

This is important. Caesar is pushy and insistent and confident because he HAS to be to be himself and defy his family.  This is is something even Chu Zihang can respect and he makes up with Caesar after, realizing that Caesar’s way towards him wasn’t personal, good or bad, he’s always acting out towards his family.

With you, Lu Mingfei and Chu Zihang closer than ever, it’s time to actually go on the Mission.  So lets recap: Caesar the Leader has pulled the team together, taken you off on entertainment, on adventures, and now just now, on the way to the mission. cooked for everyone while speedreading the the instruction manual for the Lenin.

Why would this bring the MC closer to Caesar? Uh, maybe because he seems pretty freakin’ competent? Almost effortlessly so? As Chu Zihang so succintly puts it:  “Sometimes I admire Caesar. Whenever and wherever there are goals, he’s rarely afraid and never discouraged. In a group of people he will always be the one who inspires fighting spirit. People can choose how they live, Caesar is the kind of man who asks himself to live like a hero." The MC who has never felt so helpless in her life, could have easily been inspired by Caesar. That maybe she CAN get back to the Lenin, figure out who killed her friends and give him exactly what he deserves.

[uglymanchronicles]

Ugly Man Chronicles Reignition Book 2 Chapter 2: My Breakfast With Evan

Just a couple dudes getting to know each other.

“If you must know,” Evan sighed, spearing a glistening sausage on the end of a flimsy plastic fork, “my jackass older sister thought it would be hilarious to give me a cupcake she'd baked with about a dozen powdered viagra for my fifteenth birthday. I wound up passing out eventually. Burst a lot of blood vessels. Damaged the erectile tissue beyond usefulness.”

Titus froze mid-coffee-sip. “Seriously? What a bitch!”

“Buddy, you don't know the half of it.”

“So... no signs of life down there?”

“Nothing for twelve years.”

“I think I would literally kill myself.”

“It's not so bad, I guess. At least I don't have to drain the blood out of it any more.”

“Eugh! Fuck! Did not need to hear that!”

“Well, maybe you shouldn't ask questions you don't want the answer to.”

“Do you get, like, blue balls all the time, then?”

“That's basically my ground state of being.”

Titus whistled flatly, avoiding looking Evan in the eye. He settled for staring at the table. There wasn't a lot of Evan's face that he felt comfortable looking at; every part seemed to at least be adjacent to some unpleasantry or another. About the only safe area was his right eye, which, as luck would have it, was directly opposite Titus's 'good' eye. Titus rallied and met Evan's gaze again. “Alright, your turn.”

They'd agreed on a sort of mutual interview process, taking turns asking questions to suss out what the other was capable or if he was worth having around. Evan took a bite out of the sausage and chewed thoughtfully for a moment.

“Who's Moreno?”

Titus hissed through his teeth. “A real piece of shit.”

“I'm going to need more than that.”

“I'm getting to it. He's basically, like... a freelance henchman? Like, sort of a mercenary criminal. Sells his services to the highest bidder.”

“And why's he matter?”

“That's another question.”

“No, it is not,” Evan said, quiet and serious. “Do not argue with me in bad faith, Titus. I have very little patience for it in the best of times.”

Titus regarded him for a long moment. The man across from him was wider than the table they sat at. His muscles were so pronounced in some points that Titus could tell when he was about to move by the way they bulged and contracted. Yet he gave the impression that he was constantly trying to pull himself inward, to make himself smaller. He spoke quietly and with a simple formality, but only hours before Titus had watched him single-handedly beat down some of the nastiest people he'd met in the past month.

Hmm.

“Fine. Moreno matters because I'm after the guy he's working for. You see, Moreno isn't just a normal scumbag. He works for people who need nasty things done. Not like regular nasty, either. How much do you actually know about magic?”

“I've got some... notes. So far I'm not able to find a lot of coherent rules. It mostly seems like it relies on things that nobody would normally do.”

Titus snapped his fingers and pointed at Evan. “Hit it right on the head. Rituals, reagents, that kind of thing... the reason—well, one of the reasons—magic doesn't just happen all the time by accident is that it's all weird little things. A lot of the more heavy magic relies on some pretty elaborate and obtuse shit to get it going.”

Evan momentarily thought back to the Book of Fate and his ritual in the woods. “So Moreno does these things for people?”

“Yeah. Thing is, though...” Titus stopped raising a forkful of eggs halfway to his mouth and set it down again, as if he'd momentarily lost his appetite. “The people who use his services generally practice some pretty vile magic. Real depraved shit. And to empower depraved magic, you need depraved rituals. Moreno is the guy you go to when...”

“I think I get it,” Evan interjected, since Titus seemed to be struggling with deciding whether to continue. “Your turn.”

Titus tapped his fingers on the table for a moment, then looked Evan in the eye. “How smart are you?”

The scars on Evan's face squirmed around as he actually smirked. “What kind of question is that?”

“Hey, we agreed no 'whys'.”

“Alright, alright. Well, there's really no objective metric for it, but... I have Master's degrees in computer science and theoretical physics, Bachelor's in those in addition to mathematics and electrical engineering, and associate's degrees and certificates in everything from EMT training to ballet. I should have my doctorate in physics, but...” he said, with a bitterness that Titus made a note of, then changed gears. “Oh, and I also speak Mandarin, Spanish, Japanese, French, and Arabic pretty fluently. I also know ASL. I can get by in German and Russian, too. I don't know if any of that is what you meant but--”

“Jesus, I get it,” Titus muttered, rubbing the side of his head. “How the fuck do you make money?”

“Software consulting, mostly. I specialize in security and processing efficiency. People pay me to break into their systems and then patch the holes, or to make their code run quicker or make their programs smaller. I've got a few patents I've licensed that bring in most of my income nowadays, though.”

“Anything I would have heard of?”

“If you've used a computer made in the last four years it probably has something I wrote integrated somewhere into it. I also helped develop a protein-sequencing program that helped develop a vaccine for this nasty SARS variant that broke out in China last year. They say if they hadn’t nipped it in the bud it could’ve spread worldwide and we’d be looking at millions of deaths by now.”

Titus scrunched up his face. “Oh yeah, just say that like it’s no big deal.”

“I’m just glad it turned out not to be one. What I'd really like to do is get my compression algorithm out there, but if I do that, somebody's going to try to hoard it all for themselves.”

“Are you talking to yourself or me?”

“Look, I... a few years ago I figured out a way to compress memory down by a exponential factor of six with zero loss. All it takes is a couple software plugins that don't take up much room themselves. Essentially, I could make a gigabyte fit in a kilobyte with very little trouble, now that the math's figured out.”

“Holy fuck, that's insane! Why haven't I heard anything about this?”

“Mainly because I don't tell people. If I put it up on the market, some ISP would buy it and bury it. If you make information smaller, you make it faster. Can you imagine what it'd do to internet access if dial-up and barebones cellular networks suddenly had the bandwidth of fiber optics? It would... maybe not revolutionize our society, but it would level a lot of playing fields. Bring a lot of underdeveloped areas of the world—hell, this country—up to modern levels with no extra cost. The telecomms would crash and burn so hard. But I don't have the means to get it out there without going through someone else. Yet,” Evan added. “So I basically work watered-down versions of the compressor into the software I make. Nothing that can be duplicated, and nowhere near its full potential, but enough to get me hailed as some kind of genius and pay the bills.”

“So why aren't you on your own private island or something somewhere instead of puttering around God's Ashtray in a shitty old Bug?”

“Hey, the Beetle is not shitty,” Evan said, defensively. “And I'm just waiting for the AC in my RV to get fixed or I'd be driving that.”

“Oh hot damn! Now that's the way to live!”

“Not the one I'd choose voluntarily, but it could be worse.”

“How come you're doing it, then?”

“I think it's my turn to ask,” Evan said, mildly.

“Fine,” Titus said grumpily, crossing his arms.

“How do you make money?”

“That's easy. I'm basically a freelance bailbondsman. I just roam around, drop my advertising around bars and courthouses.”

“You get many clients that way?” Evan asked, cocking his remaining eyebrow.

“Oh, you'd be amazed how desperate people can get,” Titus said, shrugging. “Of course, they're usually not the most responsible people, so when they bounce, I track 'em down myself, drag ‘em back to jail, get the money back. My eye usually makes it super easy. Sometimes they don't even see me before I get the cuffs on 'em.”

“Why did you feel the need to rob a bunch of drug dealers, then? The thrill of it?”

“I had a pressing need for a large amount of cash that my normal work doesn't bring in. That got me enough to hold it off for a while. My turn.”

Evan waved down a waitress for a refill of his coffee, trying not to take it personally when she gasped upon seeing his face. “Go ahead…”

“No, no, hang on.” Titus waved a hand dismissively. “I want to try something. Take your hair out of the ponytail.”

“What? Why?”

“Humor me.”

Evan groaned and reached back, removing his hair tie. After shaking his head, his hair fell over his face, obscuring everything but his nose and mouth. Titus pursed his lips and regarded him seriously for a moment.

“Can you see?”

“Yeah, I guess. Well enough to not walk into things, I think, and I could probably read if I had to.”

Titus snapped his fingers. “Good. Go with that from now on.”

“Why?”

“Because now you don’t look like God’s mistake. Now you look like a big, dumb-but-lovable goon. Like Jack Black would voice you in a cartoon.”

“And that’s a good thing?”

“Do you like seeing people contemplating their own mortality and the general cruel absurdity of the tragic farce that is human existence when they get a glimpse of your face?”

Evan felt his cheeks burn and was actually grateful his hair was covering most of his face. “…not particularly, no.”

“Then there you go. You’re welcome. Okay, question time. Uh… how did you get your powers?”

“Which one?”

“Oh, now who’s arguing in bad faith? Fucking all of them, you thick-lipped gargoyle.”

Evan had the feeling he hit a sore spot. Titus's easy-going, jocular tone had bled away from him, leaving behind the hard-edged razor-blade of a man that had ambushed him the night before. He decided not to belabor the point.

“I don't know why I can rege—why I heal so quickly. No, I'm serious, as far as I know, it just started happening sometime in the past few months. I can't remember. Don't look at me like that, I'll get to that in a minute. When I was younger I recovered from a lot of injuries a lot quicker than the doctors thought I would, so maybe it's something I was born with and it just got stronger recently for some reason.”

Evan took a sip of coffee, mainly to buy a few seconds to think of how much to explain for the next part.

“The ability to shut off powers... that's part of, well, I guess you'd call it a magic ritual, because I don't know what else to call it. I found a weird old book that said it contained the key to making someone an instrument of universal justice, or something of the sort. Since then I can see... I guess they're souls? Maybe? I can sort of move mine and when I run it into someone else's it seems like I can shut off their powers. Or... take them entirely, if they're dying.”

“Horseshit!” Titus scoffed. “That's... that's like meta-magic. I don't even know if that's real.”

“No, seriously! I don't think it's just magic powers, I think it... 'normalizes' things.” He briefly recounted his encounter with the pain monster.

“Are you kidding me? That...” Titus took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair, exhaling slowly and loudly. “Look, I don't know much, but the fact that you even ran into something like that, let alone survived... those odds are astronomical. And you say you negated not just its powers, but its whole form?”

“Yeah. Once I... reached into it, like I did with you—oh don't make that face. Grow up—I kind of disrupted what made it... different, I guess? Like I cut it off from its special qualities. Like it was...”

“Disjuncted,” Titus cut in.

“Yeah, that's a good word for it. Like the old Mordenkainen spell?”

“Fucking nerd.”

“Eat my ass. Anyway, after I killed it, I was able to reach into its... soul? Animating force? Aura? I don't know what to call it. I was able to grab something and pull it out and it just got pulled into me.”

“Not aura.”

“What?”

“Aura's a different thing,” Titus said, dismissively. “So what did you get from doing that?”

“I.. I feel pain differently. I don't flinch or get adrenaline rushes from injuries that don't actually impede my ability to function. I think I have a better sense of what is actually dangerous to my body now. It still hurts, but I don't react to pain like people normally do. It's like...hmm.” Evan drummed his fingers on the table. “Do you know anything about video games? Fighting games, specifically?”

“I used to fuck around on an old Alpha 3rd Strike cabinet when I was a kid. Why?”

“Do you know what 'super armor' is?”

“Isn't that where a move can't get stopped by being hit when you're doing it?”

“Right. I'm kind of like that now. Pain doesn't interrupt me.”

“Fucking nerd.”

Evan's fist involuntarily clenched. “I'm trying to put this in terms you can understand, you stupid reprobate. My experience with your judgment thus far hasn't given me much faith in your intellect.”

Titus burst out laughing. “So he does know how to banter! I thought you might be one of those Rainman types.”

“Oh sure, call it 'banter' to try to excuse the fact that you've been insulting me for the past half hour. Do you say you're ‘just joking’ when people get mad at you for saying stupid shit, too?”

“C'mon, lighten up! We're partners now! Tell me more about this soul thing. I still think you're full of shit.”

Evan sighed through his nose, then held up his left hand, forming his fingers into a circle and peering through them.

“Yours is... a sort of cross between a sea green and an oil slick. The tendrils of it keep reaching out and snapping back, going all over the place. It seems to keep expanding and contracting. It's almost flickering, like... it's indecisive. Very chaotic. The tendrils that aren't snapping around seem to be kept pretty close to your body, wrapping around you like... I can't tell if it's protective or restrictive.”

Titus's expression slowly became serious. “What does that mean?”

“I don't know. I have a lot of theories, but nothing solid to go on. I'm not sure if it's allegorical or a literal representation of a person's... power, maybe? Yours definitely looks a lot different than most people's.”

“I don't believe this for a second. Let me see.”

“How would I do tha—hey!”

Titus grabbed Evan's wrist and held his hand up to his eye. “Ho-lee...”

He pulled back from Evan's hand, staring at him. Then he looked around the room, mouth slack as he took in the diner's other occupants.

“Huh. Did you know it keeps working until you blink?” He said after a moment, a faraway tone to his voice.

“I didn't even know other people could do it,” Evan said, awe in his voice. “Hey, wow, you're right!”

“Jesus, yours is, like, really blue. It looks like... a bunch of steel cables. It's weird, I felt like I both could and couldn't see the edges of it...”

“I can kind of move it, but I'm not sure if I can do anything with it beyond interfering with people's powers. It's like learning to use a muscle you didn't know you had.”

“Huh.” Titus was again silent for a long moment. “Your turn.”

“Can you do anything else supernatural? Besides your time-eye?”

“Don't call it that, it sounds stupid. And... sorta. I seem to have whatever innate talent you need to actually do magic, but it's not like it's easy to find instructions. Most of the people I know who can use it just dabble with half-broken magic items—wands, amulets, charms,” he pulled the silence charm out from under his coat and bounced it at the end of its chain. “I guess I'm sort of a dabbler. I know a few tricks, I can use a lot of magic tools, I can sense magic pretty well, I can dowse... Most of the time I really never have to use anything besides the eye, though.”

“Is the eye all-or-nothing?”

“Yeah. It's not nearly as useful as you'd think, but any edge is an edge.”

“When I turned off your power and it was coming back, though, you started speeding up—or, I guess, everything else was slowing down? You were moving faster, one way or the other. You were able to touch me, and those punches hurt.”

“Huh, yeah, you're right.”

“Do you think there's a way you could learn to only partially activate it?”

“That'd be great, wouldn't it? Thing is, just using it is a huge strain, and that time spend outside of time adds up. Going by normal calendar time I'm only 26.”

“Fuck, I'm 27!” Evan laughed.

“Yeah, well, I'd rather be prematurely gray than what you've got going on. My turn. Uh... huh, I can't really think of anything else. Uh... are you gay?”

“Are you fucking serious?”

“No, but the question still counts.”

“I'm bi,” Evan mumbled, crossing his arms across his prodigious chest. “Not that it matters. And before you ask, no, you are not my type. We're done talking about this.”

“Huh. You ever sucked--”

“We. Are. Done. Talking about this.”

“Fine, God. Go.”

Evan mentally circled back to an earlier question he felt hadn't been properly answered. “Why are you after Moreno?”

To Evan's surprise, Titus didn't hesitate. “I'm actually after his current boss. He's just the best lead I have to go on.” He took a deep breath, then started talking with a rushed, deadpan pace, as if he was eager to get the words out as quickly as possible so they wouldn't be in his mouth very long.

“Moreno is working for a guy only known as the Soultaker. He has an innate supernatural ability to pull a person's soul out of their body. When that happens, the person just... shuts down, usually. No motive force behind them. Eventually they just die of dehydration, usually. I've seen some people so set in routine that they keep going without a soul, but... it's not really life.

“It seems like the extraction process takes a while, so he can't just walk past you on the street and pickpocket your entire essence. So he needs people rounded up for him, held until he can do his nasty juju. So that's where a degenerate like Moreno comes in.

“So when he pulls out a soul, it, well, it looks like this.”

Titus pulled a battered, faded Crown Royale bag out of his jacket. It bulged strangely and made a quiet clacking when he set it on the table. He pulled out what looked like a large marble, or maybe a dull pearl, and handed it to Evan.

Evan brushed his hair out of his eyes and peered into the milky depths of the sphere. After a few moments of staring, the murky clouds inside the thing seemed to clear and a face floated to the surface. A black man, maybe in his late 40s, going thin on top. His eyes were closed and he appeared to be sleeping, but his expression had a look of discomfort to it, as if he was having a bad dream.

“Jesus Christ,” Evan whispered, “I've seen this guy... Martell Calloway? I saw some news article about how his family found him tied up in his apartment and completely comatose! But he didn't have any injuries beyond being a black eye... so he's dead?”

“Life support,” Titus said, taking Mr. Calloway's soul back from Evan's unresisting fingers, “technically, he's one of the lucky ones. They found his body before it wasted away to nothing, and I was able to intercept his soul before it got to a buyer.”

“Why would someone buy something like this? What use is it? Can you fix him?”

“A human soul is a damn near exhaustible arcane battery,” Titus said gravely. In the split second between sentences, Evan noticed something—after he'd put the bag back into his jacket, Titus surreptitiously touched a pocket on the other side of his jacket, as if he was making sure something was still there.

“If you know what you're doing, you can power a lot of magic using a soul. And you can reuse them as long as you don't overdo it. If you know what you're doing, you can wring all but the last drops of essence out of a soul and let it heal or recover or whatever, and it'll eventually be back to full strength. Very resilient things,” Titus continued. “I don't think they're conscious in there, but... anyway, it's supposed to be really hard to extract a soul. But this guy was born with or spontaneously developed or somehow figured out a shortcut to the whole process. So the market is getting flooded with torture-batteries and ECUs are getting flooded with vegetables. And families are winding up with loved ones who are as good as dead, without having any idea why this happened to them. Dozens of them have been taken off life support in the past few months. Half these souls have no body to return to. And no, I can't fix it. At least not yet,” he sighed again. “I was hoping once I found him, I could somehow get the secret out of him or force him to put them back, or... maybe I thought if I killed him it'd reverse the effect. He needs killing, either way.”

Titus's eye widened as a thought struck him and he looked Evan in the eye for the first time since he'd started the story. Evan realized what he was thinking and looked down at the tattoo on his left arm, flexing his fingers.

“If you can take people's powers after they die...”

“...then we can save these people.”

Titus put a hand over his mouth and for a moment Evan thought he saw his eye well up.

“I'm in,” Evan said, a sense of righteous purpose welling in his heart. “I don't really know what the universe wants, but I doubt... I know it's not this. We'll find him, we'll stop him, and we'll save as many of these people as we can.”

“...thanks,” Titus mumbled behind his hand. He swallowed hard, then seemed to come back to himself. “We're back to square one, though.”

“You said you could dowse? Like, for real?”

���Yes, for real. I can find things and people with the pendulum method. It's handy for tracking down bounties.”

“Why don't you dowse Moreno?”

“Why didn't I think of that?!” Titus said incredulously, smacking his forehead. “Because he's warded. He's not magic himself, but he's collected enough gear through his career that my normal methods don't work.”

Evan rubbed his chin. “What if we used an abnormal method?”

-------------------

An hour later, they were in the RV. Titus was poring over the collection of Evan's notes and the strange papers he'd bought from Delmann's shop. Evan was very carefully slicing a strip of skin from his own ankle up all the way up his leg. The Guiding Light—the Finder's Follysat on the table between them, filled with fresh blood.

“Even if this works, he's going to know we're coming,” Titus muttered, engrossed in the pages. “Remember what I said?”

“That's why we're not going to look for him,” Evan said, adjusting his grip on the potato peeler. “I don't know how we'd even write his name. Can you read that, by the way?”

“Kind of. This is... most of this is written in, like, arcane pidgin. Who compiled these notes?”

“I did, I think.”

“You think?”

“Oh yeah, I forgot to clarify on that. Apparently a couple months ago, before the ritual, I drilled a hole in my own brain to erase some kind of very dangerous memory.”

“You what.”

“That's not a metaphor or anything. Really did it. I could show you the video.”

“I'll pass. So you don't remember where this came from?” Titus shook the Book of Fate at him.

“Nope.”

“Jesus shit, do you have any idea--”

“How reckless that was? Yeah, yeah, I'm still here and I'm the answer to your fuckin' prayers, aren't I?” Evan gave a whoop as the peeling skin reached his thigh. “Got it this time!” he said cheerfully, snipping the flesh-ribbon off with scissors.

“God, that's so fucking gross. Anyway, you haven't explained how we're going to use that thing to find Moreno.”

“We don't set it to look for him. We look for somewhere he's been. Maybe the last place he slept. Do you think you can describe him well enough in that language for it to work?”

Titus looked like he might actually be impressed, but he hid it well. “Yeah, probably.”

“Good. I've got a dictionary I've put together on that tablet next to you, but I'm not sure how accurate it is. Maybe it'll help?”

---------------------

Two hours later, they had it.

Find where a man born between the 27th and 28th north parallels during a new moon under the sign of capricorn with black hair and green eyes who has killed at least 10 people slept in the past week.

They really had to squeeze the letters in, but when Evan put a flame to the wick, it sprung to life, wavered for a moment, and then pointed east. Both men cheered. Evan threw Titus the keys.

“Drive! Drive north until I tell you otherwise!”

While Titus started the engine, Evan spread a map of the United States on the table in front of the lamp, then produced a protractor and a notebook from a drawer. “Okay, you bastard... let's see where you've been hiding...”

It took three days—one spent driving north, one spent driving back to where they'd started, and one spent driving south. While Titus drove, Evan made meticulous notes of the flame's direction, marking angles on the map. Finally he threw the pencil down triumphantly.

“He's in Salt Lake City.”

“Well, that narrows it down a little, I guess. So what, do we just go there and hope this thing points us in the right direction?”

“Too slow,” Evan called, stepping back into what used to be his bedroom and sitting at his computer. “Now I work my magic.”

After parking, Titus walked back to look over Evan's shoulder. The half-dozen monitors on the wall were flickering between rapidly-changing pictures of faces and what appeared to be CCTV footage.

“What is this?”

“This,” Evan said with dramatic pride, “is Blaccat. Facial recognition algorithms that the CIA wishesit had. I actually started working on it years ago before I thought about the implications of it, but I shelved it. I figured since I may be needing to, uh...”

“Be Batman?”

“...yeah...that I should get back to work on it. Right now it's comparing faces to the description you gave me and cycling through every damn security camera in the city looking for it.”

“How illegal is this?”

“Soooooo illegal.”

“Oh, hey, can you get into police department records?”

“Does the Pope shit in the woods?”

“See if you can get into the Las Vegas mugshots from... February 2019. Run your face-recognition thingy there.”

“Alright.... and... is that our boy?”

A handsome Latino man in his early 30s with shoulder-length jet-black hair and piercing green eyes stared at them from over a booking clipboard.

“That's him,” Titus breathed.

“Perfect! Now I just have to feed that into... wow.” Evan made a gesture and a black and white video popped up on the biggest monitor. The man in the mugshot was walking along the street, flanked by a short stocky man in bandanna and a lanky man with the ugliest white-boy dreads Evan had ever seen.

“That's him! Where is that? When is that?”

Evan grinned up at Titus. “That's live. I can track him and put us at the nearest intersection.”

Titus smiled, eye overbright, and began breathing heavily through his nose. “We got him.”

Evan met his eye and nodded. “Let's get him.”

[historic-old-guard-lover]

How many languages and which of them would the cast speak if we’re going to be completely historically accurate ?

This a great question that I can’t quite answer, but I spent six hours researching to give it a shot. I think that there’s a broad range of plausible languages and you’ve got leeway to choose how many. The first part is that different people have different affinities for languages. Some people can speak ten different languages fluently (or near-fluency), while others will struggle juggling three different ones in their brains. The range in the languages can affect this, too: it’s easy to mess up between similar languages. I personally have trouble speaking Spanish because in the middle of the sentence, I’ll drop a French word without even realizing it. The same thing doesn’t happen to me in other languages like German, though. By the same token as I’ve discussed before, similar languages are easier to learn. Going from English to Russian with the Cyrillic alphabet? More difficult than English to French, which makes up about a third of modern English. These are languages that are still in the same family (Proto-Indo-European, PIE), though, so it holds nothing to the difficulty of going from English to a language like Mandarin.

I’m breaking this answer into two parts: 1) how many?; 2) which ones? and I’m going to get carried away because I’m me so it’s below the break to spare you if this comes across your dash and you’re not a nerd...

PART 1: What’s a realistic number for them to speak?

I think that each member of the old guard probably has a certain number of languages which they’re comfortable with, a few more that they can understand/get by in, and a few that they may only know phrases from. The number of each isn’t the same for everyone. The average human being is able to speak ~1.5 languages. The most talented polyglots can speak upwards of 50 languages, maybe one guy even spoke 65 (mostly I want to mention he loved translating the phrase “kiss my ass”). This hyperpolyglot, Kreb aka “Kiss My Ass” Stan, had his brain dissected after his death and it showed a lot of “abnormalities”. That leads neuroscientists and me to believe that being able to study and learn 65 languages is either 1) a major skill that rewired his brain because he was flexing it so much; or 2) very abnormal and facilitated by his brain differences. Since their powers don’t make them stop being limited by the human brain (they can forget), I would say that it is unlikely that one of them is fluent/near fluent/comfortable in more than ~65 languages.

Getting past twelve languages is considered a feat, so I think only Andy, Quynh, Nicky, and Joe could be anywhere near the upper-bounds of languages. Remember, these hyperpolyglots spend their entire lives studying languages and often need refreshers. The members of the Old Guard don’t have the luxury of reading grammar books all day, and they also have to remember a bunch of combat training. You can argue that a lot of fighting is “muscle memory” aka located in the cerebellum and nowhere near language processing areas, but there’s still things like math, navigation, etc. that they need to remember. I doubt they have a list of their safe houses just lying around. The older members can speak more languages by virtue of being around longer and having that time to learn, but if we’re being realistic they should probably speak no more than ~45-55 languages comfortably. This doesn’t mean that they only *know* that many, but the other languages would be more like bad high school Spanish in America than able to wax poetic. Aside: that Joe is able to be poetic in what is AT LEAST his fourth or so language is very impressive and we should talk about that more.

How Many Each Member is Maximally Proficient In/Knowledgeable Of at the end of the film/Opening Fire comics run:

Lykon (comics): proficient in ~15, knowledgeable of ~30*

Lykon (movies): proficient in ~45, knowledgeable of ~80*

Andy: proficient in ~50, knowledgeable of ~100**

Quynh | Noriko: proficient in ~51, knowledgeable of ~90**

Joe: proficient in ~30, knowledgeable of ~80

Nicky: proficient in ~30, knowledgeable of ~80

Booker: proficient in ~10, knowledgeable of ~30

Nile: proficient in ~2 (maybe 3), knowledgeable of ~5

*In the comics, he is younger than Andy and Quynh and I assume he dies young. In the movie, it is strongly implied that he was the oldest. The reason why his numbers are not larger, however, is because at some point there were fewer languages as humanity had not dispersed as much as it eventually did. He’s also long before written language which facilitates learning for most people. RIP Lykon.

**I’m not saying that Quynh is smarter than Andy, just that she comes after written language and it should be slightly easier for her to pick things up. I’m giving Andy access to more languages, however, because PIE alone covers Europe, Central Asia, and South Asia. More on this later.

PART 2: Which languages would each of them speak?

I’ve covered this question a little in a previous post that was broadly about proto-indo-european/Andy-centric (check it out if you want), but I’ll give a broader survey of each character here.

A Quick Aside on Lykon: We don’t know enough about this character, and the fact that the comics and movie diverge so sharply does not help at all. I’m going to headcannon that he was from Eastern Africa, where most archaeologists agree that modern humans first appeared in the Horn of Africa aka modern Ethiopia and Somolia and neighbors, and predates Andy by ~3,000 years. For future purposes below and assuming a birth date for Andy in the range ~5,000BCE - 4,000BCE, this puts his birth at around ~8,000BCE - 7,000BCE. This is wild speculation, however. Maybe the early immortals should be spaced by warfare types (Stone Age, Bronze, Iron, Steel?) or maybe they pop up once a cultural region reaches a certain historic point or maybe they just sorta pop up and then live for six or seven thousands years. I’m working off the last assumption because it’s the simplest. The only thing I’m certain of is that Greg Rucka probably didn’t sit down and think this pattern through. If I’m wrong, oh well. I’m mad at him for all his historical inaccuracies. With dating from ~8,000BCE - 7,000BCE, I’m having trouble finding a name for the cultures that scientists/historians know were living there at the time. It’s probably because the region has been continually occupied since the first humans, which one can safely assume makes abandoned and undisturbed sites hard to fine.

A Quick Aside on Quynh | Noriko: I like the film better, so I’ll be working with Quynh. If there’s enough interest, I can add on Japanese for Noriko. I’m going to date Quynh to be ~1,500 years after Andy (maybe this should be the new date system, before Andy “BA” and after Andy “AA”). This puts her in the time range of ~3,500BCE - 2,500BCE which could place her in either the Đa Bút neolithic culture of modern-day Vietnam or the Phùng Nguyên bronze age culture of modern-day Vietnam. Those names are archaeological in nature, based on the location where sites have been found and dated to those ranges.

Other Origins: Because we have diverging cannons, I’m going to just state the backgrounds that I’ve assigned. Joe is from 1066CE with a background in the Arab-controlled Maghreb (more specifically, modern-day Tunisia and Northern Algeria). Nicky is from 1069CE with a background from the Italian maritime republic and city-state of Genoa. Booker is from 1770 southern France. Nile is from 1994 Chicago in the United States. Andy is from ~5,000BCE - 4,000BCE in the Caucasus (modern-day Georgia and Azerbaijan) or the South Western Eurasian Steppes, probably the Shulaveri-Shomu culture assuming that location.

The first language everyone learned, their “mother tongue” or “native language” is one that they definitely speak. It’s the language that they think in and would be hard-pressed to lose. This even includes now-dead languages, because, again, it’s the one that they learned to think with. Of course, it is possible to lose a language when you have no one to speak it with if you wanted to do something tragic, but I think that these things are too deeply ingrained for it it to happen by accident.

What Each One’s First Language Would Be:

Nile: American English, possibly African-American Vernacular English (AAVE) at home

Booker: Provençal/Occitan, possibly “standard French” (school and other places outside the home)

Nicky: Genoese Ligurian/Zeneize

Joe: Tunisian Derja/Tunisian Arabic/Tunisian, and possibly one of the dialects of the native Zenati language group based on where more precisely you place him

Quynh: Proto-Viet–Muong (which isn’t well documented because it’s so old)

Andy: Proto-Indo-European (PIE), but if you’re curious the Classical Scythian Language for which she is probably named is only off by a factor of 10 (4000 vs 400 BCE) *cue distressed sighing*

Lykon: Proto-Cushitic (also suffering a lack of documentation from being old as heck)

Other than their first languages, what else they learn depends on where they go. People learned languages back then for the same reasons that they do today: to communicate (and to read, after the invention of writing). 

Additional Confirmed or Likely Cannon Languages:

Nile: Spanish because of the American school system for sure. French is listed on the IG account, but she probably speaks only Spanish or French to a degree of fluency, definitely one better than the other. Very Basic Pashto, which we see her use some obviously-memorized phrases with in the film.

Booker: The IG promo things asserts that he knows (modern, standard) Italian and Greek. Why not? He also probably knows Spanish depending on where more specifically in southern France he is from. He’s probably also picked up on at least Very Basic Arabic from Joe and Nicky, but actually learning the language would take commitment from him. He also clearly speaks English.

Nicky: Other Italian dialects, and it would be fairly easy for him to have picked up modern Italian. He definitely reads Latin. If he was from a wealthy family, he probably also speaks Greek. If he was from a trading family, he probably speaks the trading pidgin of Sabir. The IG account confirms Arabic (vague, but okay I’ll be generous and say modern standard Arabic) and Romanche (they meant to write Romansh). I think Romansh is poorly chosen to characterize him in Northern Italy, but I’m feeling generous. He also clearly speaks English.

Joe: He definitely speaks standard Arabic to have been able to communicate with other Arabic-speakers in Jerusalem.  Genoese Ligurian/Zeneize because of the love of his life, which also means he probably picked up modern Italian at some point. The IG account confirms Farsi (they call it “Persian” *cue screaming*), which works if he was a merchant who traveled far to eastward on the Silk Road...and if you go with the comic cannon makes more sense. I’m going to say that he speaks the Mediterranean trading pidgin Sabir because of his location in Tunisia. If he was from a wealthy merchant family and could afford schooling, he probably learned Greek and maybe also Latin. There’s a good chance that he knows conversational-levels of other native Zenati languages thanks to colonialism discouraging their usage. He also clearly speaks English.

Quynh: We don’t actually know if she speaks English, but it’s safe to assume she does speak at least some of it. She’s probably learned Vietnamese and Mường because of her mastery of their proto-language. Because I see her returning to modern-day Vietnam to fight the Chinese colonization, I think that she might know Cantonese or Mandarin. Based on her travels with Andy, I’d like to propose Greek, Latin, and Mongolian. I’m sure that Andy and her share a language, but who knows which one they were each speaking when they met!

Andy: The IG account says “all,” but I’ve discussed this elsewhere (*major eye rolling*). She almost certainly picked up Scythian and Greek based on her chosen name. Latin isn’t as likely as you’d think, but is possible. I’d like to think that she’s also partial to learning Russian (or some earlier form of the language), Mongolian, and Armenian. Based on her travels with Quynh, I imagine that she speaks Cantonese or Mandarin and Vietnamese or Mu’o’ng. There is some mystery language shared with Quynh, too. She also clearly speaks English.

Lykon: I really don’t know enough about him to hazard any guesses. He should share at least one language in common with Andy and Quynh. If his date of death is ~2,000- 1,000 BCE like I’m supposing, there’s a good chance that he only speaks one or two currently-named languages. Sorry, OP.

[thirstyforred]

Wild Hungover ‘77 OCs 1/??

Technically you work for me - and that technicality is factual, not technical...

ok, so I never wrote a post about my cp77 ocs that lived rent-free in my head for the past 2 years or so, and since the game already came out I obviously go off the rails with canon, but I know near to nothing about the plot, so I figured that for the people that played cdpr's hot mess it might be at least fun read anyway, let's start with Sylgie

Sylvia Glehn, going also by 'Sylgie', a Night City native, she grew up relatively well off, her parents were involved in NC's music scene

her dad, Glenn Glehn was a drummer for punk rock band Fix Up, later in his life, by the time Sylgie was a young teen, he decided to invest all his savings and brought club 'Muse'

Muse was a small club, barely with enough place for dances, but the bar was always full of alcohols, and almost every weekend fresh band could play their first true gig

Sylgie's mom was a music manager, first, she lead Fix Up, but she was more ambitious than that, and eventually started working for Arasaka Entertainment and managing real starts of NC's scene

Sylgie's parents split up when she was a teen and she stayed with her father, however, she never really blamed her mother for leaving them - Glenn was one of those juvenile guys with a band, they had just enough cash to get by and not that much of prospect of making better money as long as he was the one running club

when she was in her early 20s Muse started to lose money, a lot, and Glenn was forced to sell his beloved club

Sylgie, who at the time was studying and wasn't able to help him out, was furious - she basically grew up in that place, she loved it, she even wistfully planned that in the future she'll be the one running it

but fine dad, whatever, it's not like she learned accounting exactly for that reason

so Sylgie became that fierce accountant she always dreamed to be and stopped caring about NC's scene almost entirely

well, that is until she heard that Silverhand's Battle of the Bands might no longer take place

Silverhand's Battle of the Bands was a music competition where debuting bands could show off in front of a bigger crowd, over the years it jumped between different clubs in Night City, among them, of course, the Afterlife

but after years and years, the Afterlife, one of the most important clubs in the city, was going under, and the owner wasn't able to organize a competition and prize for the winning band

so Sylgie, long time fan of Silverhand's Battle, by now the only gig she as the corporate was still able to attend, decided to do the only logical thing - she quit her job, got all the cash she had, and brought her own dreamed club

she changed the Afterlife's name to Samurai Club, renovated it, and hosted the Silverhand's Battle of '67 in this old-new venue

that evening many bands debuted on the fresh stage of Samurai Club, but the only one that everyone still remembers is the group that won - Red Riders

people absolutely loved the chaotic and cold tones and screaming, full of vulgarities vocals, they didn't even care that the pyrotechnics group used during their song killed 3 people in the front of the stage - Red Riders were the new shit

and Sylgie also immediately recognized that the very same night she drove to the nearest NCPD precinct and bailed Red Riders out with the money coming from their own prize

she offered to be their manager, they agreed and before the end of the year the debut album, easily named 'Red Riders', was out, instantly becoming the most important album of that year

and that was really something, not many Silverhand's winners got to crawl out to the mainstream, and that fast of top of that

Sylgie really outshined whatever the hell her own parents ever managed to do

but after making 2 additional albums, each more successful than the last, and multiple solo projects, Red Riders had to end their music career in 2073, and Sylgie was left without the impossibly good music band

soon big labels started to offer her a job, to work with their musicians and after some heavy soulsearching she took the opportunity

in '74, after hosting her last Silverhand's Battle, she sold Samurai Club, which the new owner renamed back to its original name, the Afterlife, but they never changed the decor tho

Sylgie loves the atmosphere of a punk gig, but when it comes to the music is actually enjoys it gets a bit weird. "If I can hear the melody, then what's the fucking point? That's shite, not 'heavy'!"

she actually doesn't like Samurai that much, she figured it would be a fitting name for a club when she planned to host a competition named after the vocalist of the band. and she was absolutely right

she considers Excel her 'me time'. "There's nothing sexier than spreadsheets and some wine."

she's friends with all Red Riders and also she will be the first to call them the absolute idiots, yes even publicly. "Whenever one of Red Riders does something awesome it’s ‘oh look at me’, but whenever they screw up it’s ‘oh we're a team’."

she has her cyberware attuned so whenever Red Riders or their solo songs come on the radio she simply doesn't hear them, just out of spite

she wears glasses only for aesthetics

she speaks fluently German, for no real reason other than flex

[glumvillain]

GlumReviews #8

Today’s review will abandon the traditional structure to honor the album I have listened to today.

Hip Hop has largely remained an elusive myth to me as the 2010s spun off into several sub genres of rap.  Underground acts proliferated to niche groups on the internet and algorithms began determining what’s popular for the streaming public.  Hip-Hop has suffered in quality in the past decade as more pop and electronic dance elements have been incorporated for popular acts to be more accessible and cross-genre friendly.  Long gone are the days of gangsta rap and rappers who could rhyme fluently about their life on the streets. Largely replaced with corporately funded and approved personas that work better as brands than as artists.

It’s with this disillusionment that I enter alot of “modern” hip-hop albums with, and I’m very rarely surprised, moved, or even inspired by rap music that came out post 2010′s

Then I was suggested an album today that was new and different.  From a different time, even.  The year 2012, when the world was much much different, and the country itself had different problems to obsess over than our current shitstorm in Feb. 2021.

billy woods is a rapper based out of New York who kicks the structured verse/chorus/verse monotony of hip-hop to the side in favor of loosely spoken-word poetry overlayed over chaotic hip-hop jazz and electronic beats. I find myself listening to his 2012 release History Will Absolve Me.  His seventh studio album and a welcome addition to the world of fringe hip-hop that I thoroughly enjoy

Now due to such limited information apart from magazine interviews that would eat into my time trying to write this, paired with the length of the album, I have concluded I cannot succinctly review each and every song without it becoming repetitive or boring so I just wanna touch on the album and what it means to me.

From the beginning of the album you are greeted with the immediate electronic chaos that will be the main delivery system for Woods’ intelligently thrown together rhymes.  Each song is filled with some of the best lyrics I’ve heard from a rap album in a very long time.  For surface fans of hip-hop this may be a hard listen as woods’ style is very loose and almost spoken word, barely hanging onto the tempo of each beat but somehow able to make a full circle with his drunken master rhyme schemes.  Deeply political and thought provoking, this is a dark and hostile look at the world and society through real hip hop artists.  The popular artists of today all speak from a place of high privilege and lavish living.  Reality suffers when we don’t have artists who are living real lives, experiencing or at least understanding the harsh conditions of poverty and the dwindling middle class. 

Hip Hop comes from a place of struggle, whether that initial message was to talk about the sadness of growing up disadvantaged or to create a way to escape those surroundings that gave no aid to big dreams.  Rap music has turned into a glitz and glamour, glam metal era of it’s own.  The aspiring rapper is no longer chasing an escape but a route to being rich and famous.  Which can arguably mean two completely different things.

woods’ lyrics don’t feel like the expression of a lifetime lived in someone’s shoes but to be dictated at the speed of thought.  It feels like stream of consciousness plain speak. Almost bordering on manic and incoherent ramblings of a drug addled mind (I make zero assumptions with that statement as I believe it to be a style choice) There’s nothing about this record saying to keep partying and ignore the social fabric on fire outside your window.  The production is chaos but kept in line enough to give us the rhythm that woods’ conveniently is either one step ahead or behind.  No glitz, no glamour, no thumping obnoxious 808s or bass noise. He can’t hide behind high end production value and instead you’re forced to fully focus on the lyrics and listen to the words being spoken to you.

Fans of Immortal Technique, Saul Willains, Aesop Rock, Earl Sweatshirt, and MF DOOM can find a common thread with this album. And billy woods earns a staying position in my mentions when it comes to competent rappers making real hip hop music in an age of fake ass dime a dozen rappers.

⭐⭐⭐⭐/5

It’s an album worth checking out if you’re truly in the market for rap music with substance and you want a break from the structured and regular.  It is a dark and unfriendly journey but you feel almost compelled to finish out the journey.  Clocking in just over 1 hr runtime, this album is a great trip away from the normalcy that has become the standard rap music schlock being pumped out at a steady pace.

[unfortunateleigh20]

october 21 (pt. 1)

It’s been a little while since I’ve posted. I’ve been really busy.

I’m almost finished with reading Tara Westover’s memoir Educated for one of my classes, and it’s beginning to hit me hard. The past few chapters I’ve read have been about her experience at the end of her undergraduate college career. She speaks about her advisor while she’s studying abroad, and how he’s blow away by her, what she has to say, and her intelligence. I think this really effected me in many ways:

1. I am attending a college that is only about an hour away from my house, in-state. While college-searching, I did not want to be this close, but I decided that I would start my first year at my school and see how it went. This was also partially because I never pictured myself going to college. I have always felt very strongly about school and education systems, and I am very against school in the US, especially public school. High school was awful for me—I got good grades, and I did well, but my mental health was horrible, I did not have good friends, I was always under immense amounts of stress due to the carelessness of teachers, and it was an all-around terrible experience. Even from a young age—as soon as I could really understand what college was—I didn’t want to go. I thought it was a waste, and and pointless, especially if you didn’t know what you wanted to do in life. It wasn’t until eleventh grade that I decided I wanted to go to college, after having an epiphany while in my Advanced Behavioral Science class. That’s when I made the choice to go.

I mention all of this because, like I said, it was never my intention to go to college. At least, not until I realized what I was passionate about, and what I wanted to do. I guess this first year, for me, was kind of testing the waters, so to speak, to determine if college was actually something I wanted. And I will say, education wise, I am thriving compared to high school. (I firmly believe I learned very little in middle & high school. I basically taught myself everything, and any additional knowledge I had came from my own personal interests.)

However, I did not want to go to a college that was so close to home. I wanted to get far away from the toxicity of my childhood. That obviously didn’t happen. I settled for this school because it was the best one out of those I applied. I am a first generation college student, and knew nothing about college going into it. I was extremely overwhelmed with the process of finding schools and applying, and I still feel anxious about it regularly.

And I do like my school; it’s a good school. I just don’t think it’s for me. I want something much bigger, with more opportunities; and I don’t want to be at a place where everybody knows each other, I prefer the mysteriousness of being in such a large school that you can always meet new people. This I regret. And it leads me to my next point.

2. I really do not want to attend this school next year. However, with COVID-19, I see it as my best option—financially, and for my own health. I am so thoroughly frustrated that I had to start college during a global pandemic. And while I’m thankful that I had and have the opportunity to attend college—especially one that has in-person classes—it is just so overwhelming to me.

I want to transfer, but the thought of having to find a new school terrifies me because of the intimidating application process. (Is there someone I could work with that would help me with this sort of thing?) And, if this pandemic is still going on next year, is there a point in applying to a different college? Also, I really do not want to go to college next year, if this pandemic continues. But I’m afraid to take a year off, as well. COVID-19 has just has such a horrible impact on me and my mental health this year, as I start college; not because I am worried about the actual virus, but because of all of the effects it is leaving in its wake. This is just not a world I feel I can continue to survive in.

3. Speaking of attending a different school, I want to study abroad so bad. When I was looking at colleges during my junior and senior year of high school, I never wanted to study abroad. I felt very strongly about it. Now that I’ve actually started school, I want to study abroad so bad. The issue is, I don’t know how to fluently speak any other languages besides English (and I don’t know if you have to speak another language in order to be able to study abroad). But while reading Westover’s memoir, I realized that even going somewhere like the UK would be possible, because the language is still English. And I’ve always wanted to go there.

But I don’t know if it costs more money, and I have no money. My family is in just the right spot where we aren’t considered “poor enough” to qualify for scholarships or financial aid. However, my parents are also not helping to pay for my attending college in any way. I don’t have a consistent job, and even if I wanted one, the issue again goes back to COVID-19, and my own social anxiety.

I try to apply for scholarships, but it’s so overwhelming—to have to worry about school work, work, social life, home life, whether I’m going to college next year, if I want to transfer, if I want to study abroad, and also apply for as many scholarships as possible. How do I find scholarships? Where do I find them? How do I get them? I’m so stressed that I can’t even focus on doing them well, and obviously that has an impact on whether I’m chosen or not.

4. Furthermore, I’ve been struggling on and off with feeling like I’m not intelligent. I don’t feel like I don’t belong—that isn’t the case. (Well, I do feel like I don’t belong, but not because I don’t feel like I’m not “smart enough.” I feel like I don’t belong for a separate reason.) I just feel like everybody else is so intelligent, and it is so easy for them to communicate it outwardly—whether it’s verbally or through writing. Sometimes I feel like I’m not intelligent at all. Actually, I’ve always felt that way until just within the past year, when I started to realize that I do have a lot of knowledge about a lot of things. But I still feel like I’m not smart enough. And much, much worse is that, even at times when I feel like I am smart, I know that I cannot communicate my thoughts properly. I’ve been told on a very surprising (to me) number of occasions that I’m “very articulate.” I don’t even know what that means.

I don’t feel like I can communicate what I’m thinking at all. I feel like nobody ever understands what I’m trying to say, and oftentimes, as a way to make up for it, I feel like I over-explain things or go into way too much detail. I am suspended in a constant state between explaining too much and not explaining enough. I have so much to say, but I don’t know how to say it. And I can’t say anything out loud, but I say too much through writing. I have so many opinions and thoughts, but I can’t verbalize it.

I guess maybe my largest issue is that I seek validation. I feel like I am not intelligent unless people tell me that I’m intelligent (mainly because I don’t know anything about myself). So without people telling me I’m intelligent, I don’t feel it. And without being able to verbalize my thoughts, nobody is telling me that I’m intelligent. It’s an awful, harmful cycle, but I don’t know how to break out of it.

And just recently I’ve realized how much of an impact my mental illness has on me. For as long as I can remember, I’ve never been able to think clearly. I worry about too many things at once, and my mind always feels like it’s in a fog. Every once and awhile, very, very rarely, does this all go away for an hour or so, and I can write something incredible. My thoughts are concise, powerful, and thorough. But this has only happened a handful of times; less times than I can count on one hand. It makes me so angry that my mental illness is keeping me from being able to think clearly and perform clearly, but I don’t know what to do. It feels entirely hopeless.

[yuhuangzhou]

i almost gave myself a fricking finger cramp liking all your intro posts/prclubtalk posts...goshDARN you guys are so active already! i go grocery shopping for 2 hours and the dash is completely full of new content and amazing writers???

i leave you guys alone for TWO! HOURS!

anyways hi everyone!!! so excited to be here! call me aza and i’ve also gone by wren before. if either of those names sound familiar it was PROBABLY me (but i absolve myself of anything embarrassing it’s been YEARS since i’ve been really active in krp/indie) and i’m one of your resident dumpster fires in human form!

i don’t use enough periods and use almost exclusively exclamation marks in casual convo and i’d love to plot with you all!!! let’s get into it!!!! leave a like or a comment or slide into my messages if you’re interested in plotting/writing!

this is her whole bio but here’s a quick and dirty rundown

parents were fake designer handbag/scarf sellers on the streets of guangzhou, and she loved trying to pick out the differences in a fake vs a real one, but her dad got arrested (on additional charges), and her mother split so she took her ass to a police station

adopted at age 9 into a wealthy family (older couple) and she realized that this was a fucking amazing opportunity. took advantage of it, fell in love with traditional art during the art education aspect of her high-brow education, and from there devolved into exploring all sorts of mediums and traditional/contemporary artists!

but also really enjoyed criminal justice, knew art wasn’t necessarily a stable career path (plus she can’t do it herself), and so went into the forensic arts as a lab tech for 4 years or so. no one took her seriously at first, just thought she was a pretty face but BAM comes along a case and she fucking solves it because it involves a real? fake? jackson polluck piece. pretty high profile case, so she gains some recognition/starts building up a reputation

from there, she dips from the lab because *double middle fingers up* and starts making connections with people from the art world and specifically from the art auction world.

works with/studies under/interns her time to other art scholars while being selective in contracting out her time (aka make it super fucking hard for people to schedule her time, and then the more they’re willing to beg/pay to get her specifically). as her art scholar/art historian resume builds, she continues to take on only high profile auction jobs

to the point where if she’s at an auction, prices on specific pieces with her seal of approval go up by the million - and also if she says it’s a real piece, people are generally inclined to believe her (which might make everyone’s jobs in the president’s club re: art a little easier, but only by a smidge)

as for her as a person...

she’s a bit of a priss? a bit of a bitch! but not really it’s just all a *krp voice* defense mechanism.

and like, she generally maintains a ‘classy’ air due to her teenage years of upper class living/manners/education which for the most part broke the streets out of her, but it’s kind of an...insecurity of hers, even after all these years.

obviously has abandonment issues so she doesn’t like to let people in past close platonic relationships like...familial and romantic relationships? PHEW! forget about it!!!

thus has resigned herself to the fact that she’s going to be without a partner for the rest of her life, but is okay-ish with that (as it’s kind of a natural human longing to be loved) so long as she’s doing something she loves and is surrounded by interesting people (and oh hey, that’s all your muses!)

speaks english pretty fluently, but does retain an accent

has those UGLY designer baggy clothes, but hates wearing them because they’re just ugly AND expensive. she’d much rather wear oversize, cheap, comfy clothes with hair tied and glasses on - or get completely dolled (hair? DONE! makeup? PRISTINE!) up in a $$$ sheath dress. extremes. she lives her life in them!

yeah she fucks! she’s thirty-one! considers physical relationships as just something that needs to be sated every now and then. i’m comfortable with nsfw themes, but if you’re not don’t WORRY and don’t feel like you need to incorporate it at all...i’m just in the camp of ‘i don’t think people should be afraid of talking about that stuff for their muses’ lmao

loves a good red lip, honestly

absolutely fucking hates sandals. thinks they’re an absolute abomination

biggest ‘social’ pet peeve is being interrupted while in the middle of a sentence/thought. she will literally try to bite your head off if you consistently do this (especially if you know her/KNOW that sets her off).

honestly? get your butt over her and let’s plot! (imma go make dinner real quick, and in about 45 minutes come back and respond to things!!!!) looking forward to it, guys!

[eternaljouska]

Bear Hug - Hansol Vernon Chwe

Pairing: Idol!Vernon x Reader (The idol-ness doesn’t really show, though)

Genre: Fluff

Warning: nonexistent

Word Count: 1611

Note: The format is slightly different. I was planning to change it, but my friend said it’s better to keep it this way, so... yeah.

Also, @jookyunhoevercoupshoe​ here you go, i’m sorry, i promised to upload this yesterday, but you know what happened (?) Hope this is enough, even if the moment is too short. DON’T READ THIS WITH TOO MUCH EXPECTATION, PLEASE. THIS IS JUST A FEW SECONDS INTERACTION--5 MINUTES MAX. (Tell me if this is way below your expectation, tho, i’ll try to write something better in the future 🤧 i feel so insecure about this one, ugh)

Yes, he knows. Vernon knows it is very uncharacteristic of him to dress up like this. His fashion taste may fall into a questionable category, but that’s the way he is—free-minded, free-spirited, unbound to the lines the society draws around him. If someone knows him at all, they should be able to tell if the clothes strewn randomly on the bed are his or not, he would bet anything on that.

Or not. Surely, if he cares enough about his wellbeing, he would not involve himself in any more misleading pursuit such as that, moreover if it is initiated by the one and only Yoon Jeonghan. Just like how everything is, the bet started as something harmless, bordering foolish really, and then, the older man whined and raised the stake to make things a little more interesting. And here Vernon is: dressing up as a Teddy Bear in the middle of the crowded Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport as a consequence to his tough luck. He’s supposed to put his costume as soon as he passes through the immigration process. And mind you, it is not even a Teddy Bear onesie. It’s a full-blown mascot costume with the sponge or who knows what it is in its belly. It’s hot and heavy. And fortunately, Vernon speaks English fluently, which allows him the additional task of coming up to at least seventeen kids and giving each of them a balloon and a hug before joining his other members in their lounge.

Vernon is cautious. He asks the airport officials a few times to ascertain that it is completely okay to do what he’s about to do. He’s praying with all of his heart that it’s not, but the words that they told him were much looser than a no. Oh, good God, he’s already traumatized, and he hasn’t even exited the restroom. This is just so not him. He could see Seungkwan in it—Soonyoung or Seokmin, too, or any other member for that matter—but not him. How should he approach unknowing kids with a balloon and a hug and just leave immediately after? What if their parents question him? Oh, how he hopes he’s more than a mass of awkwardness starting to melt inside his burning costume.

“Hi! Hi? Hi,” he says and repeats several times, trying out his various friendly tones in front of the mirror of the deserted restroom. “Okay, you can do this. Hi, want a balloon and a hug? Perfect. Okay. Let’s get it, Vern.”

“Hi!” he lets out in a tone way too high for his liking, which is met with what could be a horrendous scream of an unsuspecting boy if only he’d spared him a glance on his run to the stall. “Want a—oh, right, yes, you need to go to the restroom, aha, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Yes, Vernon, great first attempt. Proud of you, yeah, haha.

His second attempt is better, and his next few ones are decent.

There’s a girl walking timidly behind her father, her short arms clutching around her father’s leg. The wetness under her eyes is still visible. When they arrive in front of Vernon, her father mouths to him that Riley, his daughter, is scared, but she wants the balloon. Vernon nods his giant head a few times and walks slowly towards the girl. “It’s okay, Riley. Teddy bear doesn’t bite. Here, have a balloon.”

The girl looks up at her father who in turn urges her forward to pick her balloon of choice. Blue. She chooses a blue balloon. “Thank you, Mr. Bear,” she whispers before hiding behind her father’s leg once again.

For a while, Vernon just strolls around the airport, past the gift shops and nearing the gate where a little girl runs towards him and squeals in all excitement, “Can I get the pink one? Can I get the pink one?”

Vernon tries to kneel down to match the girl height, but that proves difficult with the compact belly he’s supporting. “Mia,” the girl’s mother chides from several feet away, causing the girl, Mia, to drop her smile and stop bouncing on her feet.

“I’m sorry. Can I get a pink balloon, please?” she asks again, peeking from underneath her bangs. And Vernon’s heart melts at that sight, in a rate quicker than his costume makes his body does.

“Of course! Here you go. Do you care for a hug? You can get a free balloon and a free hug!”

“I love hugs!” The girl jumps into Vernon’s hug, bumping his pillowy belly, with chuckles that help him come into term with his punishment. Well, this is a lot more fun than I expected. “Bye-bye,” Mia intones as she skips back to where her mother’s standing, a wide smile showing her neat teeth still placated on her face.

After Mia, there’s a big family seemingly on their way to their vacation. There are at least four children from that family alone, Vernon has lost count, for then there are a few others coming out of nowhere and circling him, creating quite the commotion of shouts of color. And with the last yellow balloon given to a kid named Jerry—or the way he adorably pronounced it, Jewwy—Vernon’s task is completed.

Vernon sighs, pretty content about what he’s done and given for the kids, but tired nonetheless. He drags his padded soles to the restroom where he first began his mission. He knows that there are other restrooms, obviously, but for sentimental purposes, he wants to use the same one. The restroom’s sign’s starting to get clearer as he gets closer to his destination when he feels someone poking on his back.

“It’s unfair that only kids get free balloons and hugs like that, you know.”

Vernon turns around only to face a young woman of his age standing with both hands folded in front of her, looking at him with half a pout on her lips. Vernon opens his mouth to say something, but words fail him. He’s lucky his huge bear head can hide his gaping mouth.

“I know you ran out of balloons, but can I at least get the hug?” she inquires. Vernon notices her fingers that are actively pinching the skin of her elbow. She’s adopted a tough appearance—expression, tone, and stance—when she first spoke up, but now, Vernon would say that she’s almost sheepish. “Well, I mean, it’s okay if—“

Without thinking further, Vernon finds himself opening his arms widely, welcoming the young woman in front of him. Seeing that it’s Vernon who initiates the hug, he didn’t imagine he’d be surprised when she dives into his embrace, but he does. Vernon takes an involuntary step back from the impact. The young woman’s hold on him is so tight that he can still feel the squeeze despite his thick costume.

The words are you okay? are hanging on the tip of his tongue, his heart goes erratic with growing worries, but the young woman beats him to it. “I’m sorry. I just need this.”

Vernon realizes at that point that his arms are still wide open, so he brings his hands together, closing in on her. “It’s okay. As long as you are, too. Okay, I mean.”

She laughs, but Vernon catches the hint of tears in her melodic chuckle. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he says, placing his hands on her shoulder to break the hug and allow him to see her face. She has her head ducked down, too occupied with the nudging show her boot has with Vernon’s big fluffy bear foot.

Understanding that she won’t do it on her own accord, Vernon moves his hand to cup her cheeks to raise her head, which somehow erases the frown on his forehead and frees his own laughter. Her cheeks—almost her whole face—is drowning between Vernon’s paw, and it makes her look too adorable for him to handle. And she, still with her pouty lips, struggles to bat away Vernon’s paw. When Vernon lets her cheeks go, she wipes her tears away and goes on to chastise him. “What are you laughing about, huh?”

“You,” Vernon answers shortly, half-aware that his word’s going to irritate her furthermore.

“What? That’s plain cruel, Mr. Teddy Bear! You’re supposed to be a Teddy Bear, not a Baddy Bear.” She blinks several times at the end of her sentence, probably noticing how weird that sounded.

Vernon scoffs, “W-what?”

A split second after that, the two young adults laugh uncontrollably, and Vernon’s thought flies to the timid girl earlier, Riley. She had called him Mr. Bear; she’s afraid of him and called him Mr. Bear. He wonders, is that her way of showing her ambivalence between Mr. Teddy Bear and Mr. Baddy Bear?

“Can I have one last hug?” she begins after their laughter died down. “I can’t visit the airport whenever I need a free hug, you know?”

“Sure.” Vernon’s head is emptied of any coherent thoughts as he wraps her in another tight hug. This is it. She’s going to walk away from him, and soon he’ll change into his normal clothing and everything stays in their memory, awaiting the time when memory blurs and reality dissolves into the dark of forgetfulness.

“Thank you,” she whispers, very much as Riley did, and starts walking backward.

“Actually,” he half-shouts, too deep in his previous consideration to notice, “Would you like my nu—no, um, my company, yeah, my company’s contact. You know, for business inquiries.”

She chuckles, the trace of tears has long since gone away. “Sure, I’ll take that.”

Note: Leo @leojov , this is why I lowkey freaked out when you mentioned me and started talking about teddy bear.

[hrk4]

My Sanskrit Story

I am an ardent student of Sanskrit.

Over the past few years, I’ve been learning Sanskrit in a slow, schizophrenic manner – a few weeks of frenetic study of grammar and literature with long months of lackadaisical, lukewarm engagement with the language, mostly through ‘study circles’ (we’ll come to this later) that I’m a part of. But I have kept at it constantly and never regretted it once.

My earliest exposure to Sanskrit was perhaps at the age of two. Born and raised in a typical Hindu middle-class family, I was taught simple shlokas and stotras. My father took me to Cubbon Park or Ulsoor Lake on Sunday mornings and on the way he would teach me verses from the Mukunda-mala (a poetical work composed by Kulashekhara azhvar, a ninth century king and poet-saint). My grandmother taught me the Krishna-ashtakam (usually during power-cuts) and my mother taught me verses from the Venkatesha-suprabhatam. At age three or four, I became a sort of ‘installation art’ at weddings where elders gathered around me, coaxing me to recite verses from the Mukunda-mala. (But of course, getting children to recite verses is not uncommon in our families. Many of you might have experienced this in your childhood.)

That was it, pretty much: Some stray verses committed to memory and the strong notion that Sanskrit was a great language. In spite of my rejection of orthodox theism, rituals, and outdated religious/superstitious practices during my rebellious adolescent years, strangely, I never lost respect for Sanskrit.

Most of my cousins studied Sanskrit in school but I didn’t have that good fortune. I wanted to learn the language but I didn’t know where to start; for years it remained a pipe dream.

By sheer chance, I got involved in co-writing a translation of the Bhagavad-Gita with Dr. Koti Sreekrishna in 2006. At that time, I didn’t know any Sanskrit. My role was to review and edit the English; after Dr. Sreekrishna produced a rough translation, I would work towards presenting the verses in the simplest way possible. By the time we published the book five years later, I had learnt a few words here and there, particularly when we discussed the meaning of difficult verses.

In early 2011, when the manuscript of our Gita translation was being sent to reviewers, someone suggested that I get the opinion of the renowned scholar, poet, and polymath Shatavadhani Dr. R Ganesh. Until then I hardly knew anything about him. When I phoned him, he spoke in an encouraging manner and I felt like I was speaking with a family elder rather than a celebrity-scholar. He graciously reviewed the manuscript and gave his feedback. I casually mentioned to him about my interest to learn Sanskrit and my helplessness at not knowing where to start. Not only did he give me general guidance but he also taught me some of the basics of Sanskrit grammar like noun forms, verb forms, sandhi, and samasa. More importantly, he taught me the real value of learning Sanskrit in today’s world.

The rest of this piece comprises what I’ve learnt from Dr. Ganesh about the study of Sanskrit coupled with my personal experiences. It might be of value to those interested in learning the language.

~

Why Study Sanskrit?

Given that learning Sanskrit—or any language for that matter—consumes considerable time and effort (and some money), it’s a good idea to think for a moment if it’s actually worth it. Now, the worthiness can be decided only by one’s intentions – Why do I want to study Sanskrit?

In my case, I love learning languages when the opportunity presents itself. The process of learning itself is a great deal of fun for linguaphiles like me. So if you are a language-lover, there’s no need to think any further. Go and learn Sanskrit!

There is a widespread notion that Sanskrit is a sacred language meant solely for rituals and that its literature is entirely ‘spiritual stuff.’ So if you’re someone who likes that sort of thing – tradition, philosophy, scriptures, and so forth – you might be thinking of learning the language. The good news is that you probably don’t need to learn Sanskrit.

If you are just interested in the Vedas and want to connect with the tradition better, you could consider learning Vedic recitation, which is definitely easier than learning Sanskrit. In addition, you can read a book or two on the philosophy of the Vedas or listen to lectures on the topic by scholars like Dr. Ganesh. Even those of you who are interested in philosophy can get by reading reliable translations of the Upanishads and Bhagavad-gita as well as general works on Indian philosophy by scholars like Prof. M Hiriyanna.

There is a feeling among the culturally inclined nationalists that it is our duty to preserve Indian heritage and showcase the glory of India’s past. Triggered by this missionary zeal, some people might wish to learn Sanskrit. This often leads to a narrow interest in hunting for science in ancient India, or in the study of traditional works of polity, economics, architecture, law, or other secular subjects. Again, the good news is that you don’t have to learn Sanskrit to accomplish this.

You can always look into reliable translations of works like Artha-shastra, Manu-smriti, Surya-siddhanta, or Brihat-samhita. You can also peruse through books on Indian history, ancient Indian mathematics, temple architecture, and so on. You could even take up the study of a serious treatise like P V Kane’s History of Dharmashastra. That will satiate your thirst to a large extent.

When something can be effectively translated from one language into another—particularly when the objective is to provide information or teach certain concepts—then there’s hardly a case for learning the source language. If I can give you the exact translation of a verse from the Gita and you understand it without any transmission losses, then why do you have to spend ten years of your life learning Sanskrit?

But there are things that simply can’t be translated. Jokes, for instance, are untranslatable when they employ puns or have strong cultural references. The same goes for poetry, where the structure and the substance are closely intertwined. So if you’re interested to explore the vast landscape of Sanskrit literature—Kalidasa’s masterpieces; the two great Epics (Ramayana and Mahabharata); Bana’s Kadambari; Shudraka’s Mricchakatika; Bharavi’s Kiratarjuniya; Vishakadatta’s Mudra-rakshasa; and many other poems, plays, and prose compositions—it is worthwhile taking steps to learn Sanskrit. Stories about gods and goddesses, romantic escapades, nature descriptions, episodes from the Epics, idiosyncrasies of public life, the history of a kingdom, tales of commoners – all this and more can entertain and enrich several lifetimes.

In addition to being a wonderful treasure trove of literature, Sanskrit is also a window to our past. Therefore, any serious student of Indian history, archaeology, sociology, culture, sculpture, philosophy, and so forth will benefit immensely if s/he learns Sanskrit. Here I wish to make a distinction between one who is interested in Indian history or philosophy or culture and a full-time student of these subjects (like a BA or MA student). Those who are merely interested to know more about a certain era in Indian history can read a book by R C Majumdar or Jadunath Sarkar and be fulfilled. But for students of history, the knowledge of Sanskrit will enable them to read inscriptions, contemporary literary works, and so on, which will prove invaluable for their careers.

However, if you’re looking to improve your knowledge of physics, become better at technology, get a promotion at work, or win an election, you will benefit from doing other things than learning Sanskrit. 

Is Sanskrit Difficult?

A good way to learn a language is like how we all learnt our mother tongues – by listening and repeating, then slowly moving towards understanding and speaking, and then eventually starting to read and write. If you wish to learn Russian, Spanish, or Japanese, this approach works well. But Sanskrit is not a widely spoken language. And our motivation to learn Sanskrit is not so much trying to communicate with other people as it is to read and savour ancient (and modern) literature.

Although there are a number of people who fluently speak in Sanskrit, it is almost impossible to find a person who knows only Sanskrit and no other language. It’s therefore obvious that you don’t need Sanskrit to communicate with others; you can get by speaking Kannada or Tamil or English. (On the other hand, if you’re visiting the UK and can’t speak a word of English, you’re going to be in trouble!)

To learn Sanskrit, you might have to choose an approach that’s different from what’s popularly known as ‘immersion’ in language-learning circles.

There are some people who think that Sanskrit is extremely difficult and wonder if they can approach it at all. In fact, those who are familiar with one or more Indian languages already have the basic equipment to understand Sanskrit. The nuts and bolts of the grammar can give you sleepless nights but it’s probably not as hard as you think.

At the other end of the spectrum, there are people who think that attending a ten-day Sambhashana course or reading a ‘Learn Sanskrit in 30 Days’ book can give you mastery over Sanskrit. That’s a dangerous notion to harbour if you really want to learn the language.

So, the one line answer is that if you’re interested and pursue it sincerely, it’ll get easier along the way, and more importantly, the journey will be great fun after the initial fumbling about.

Learning Sanskrit

Where do I start?

The answer, surprisingly, is: anywhere. Just start. Sanskrit is an ocean and where does one begin to swim in an ocean? Somewhere. Put your feet in the water, slowly get inside, get used to the cold, and before you realize it, you’re already kicking your legs and having a good time.

And that’s what I did: just started at some point.

I would read a verse from the Gita and then read the English translation. I had learnt Kannada and Hindi at school and as a result, many of the words were familiar to me. Reading the translation after reading the original Sanskrit verse exposed me to new words. I committed verses to memory and later replayed them in my mind, trying to check if I remembered the meaning completely.

That said, the most suitable works to start off learning Sanskrit are lucid compositions like the Ramayana or the Pancha-tantra. Get hold of a reliable translation of one of these works (preferably in an Indian language); start by reciting the original Sanskrit verse or prose passage a couple times, then read through the translation, and go back to reading the Sanskrit – this way you slowly make connections between the words and their meanings. Instead of diving into the technicalities of grammar straightaway, spending time with literature will help you experience the beauty of the language.

Three to six months after commencing the study of a Sanskrit work, you can start learning up some grammar – by reading good books, watching online tutorials, or learning from a teacher.

I’m extremely fortunate that Dr. Ganesh taught me the basics of Sanskrit grammar. That set me off on a winding path of reading different aspects of grammar and trying to wrap my head around them. This continues even today. The more I hunt for rules, more the exceptions I find. My advice: Keep aside logic while learning basics. In the initial stages, don’t ask questions; simply accept things as they are. It just makes life easier. Over time, you’ll develop an intuition for the correct form of a word.

All said and done, it’s easy to start but difficult to keep going. What’s the solution for sustained study?

In my experience, learning a language requires both self-motivation and external agency. Unless one is driven from within, no amount of external push will be fruitful; when self-motivation is present, external agency becomes invaluable. For instance, Sanskrit is taught in schools and colleges – this is a push from outside (i.e., external agency). But only those with self-motivation learn the language well and continue reading literature long after they have graduated.

When I met Dr. Ganesh in 2011, he told me about a fortnightly ‘study circle’ he was conducting and extended an invitation to me. I had never heard the term before so I asked him what that was. A group of friends would catch up every other Saturday and read the Raghu-vamsham of Kalidasa. 

I started attending the study circle. This went on for close to a year and I learnt a great deal. Owing to various reasons I became irregular in attending the sessions and after I shifted to another end of the city, I practically stopped going. During the years 2013–16,  I moved around quite a bit and finally I shifted to Malleswaram in November 2016.

There came an inflection point in my Sanskrit study in 2017. Around that time, my good friend Raghavendra G S had started his PhD program in IISc. and my house happened to be a sort of midpoint between the metro station and his lab. One day I casually suggested that we should meet once a week and read a Sanskrit work together. He readily agreed and we started reading the Krishna-karna-amritam (a poetical work by Lilashuka). By the time we finished reading the text in early 2018, a few other friends showed interest in coming together to form a study circle. And so, in April 2018 we formed our Sanskrit study circle and have continued ever since. I also got the opportunity to join a few other study circles and this ensured that my Sanskrit study is ever fresh; over the past three years, not a week has gone by without a few hours of Sanskrit reading (unless I was travelling or unwell).

So if you want to learn Sanskrit, try to find even one other like-minded friend and get started. Even better if you can find more friends – especially those who know more Sanskrit than you. The ideal is a group of four to six, meeting once a week, for about an hour or ninety minutes. (You can meet in person or online – it shouldn’t make too much of a difference.) There are ample online resources and translations available for various Sanskrit works. Start reading a work together. Take turns to read the verses aloud. (Even when you’re reading Sanskrit by yourself, it’s useful to read aloud). Then look at the translation. Discuss. Read the original verse again. Then move forward. In the first few sessions, you may read just three or four verses in an hour but as you go forward, your speed will drastically improve and you’ll start getting comfortable. After a while, refer to the translations only after you’ve made an attempt to understand the original. This will slowly push you to rely on your memory and learning.

And once in a while, when there’s an opportunity to meet during a long weekend, you can take a short poetical work like Niti-shataka or Kali-vidambana and read the whole thing in one marathon session.

There are many possibilities with study circles. In fact, it can prove to be the mysterious ingredient to accelerate your learning. That’s been the case with me for sure. I’ve still got a long way to go before I can say that I’ve learnt Sanskrit but the journey itself has been incredible so far. Dr. Ganesh and friends have been largely responsible for what little Sanskrit I know. And for that I’m ever grateful.

Hari Ravikumar August 2020

Thanks to my friends Pratap Simha (for getting me to write this piece), Arjun Bharadwaj (for his valuable inputs), and Sudheer Krishnaswami (for his review and feedback).