#English is not even my first language and here I am writing full essays in it because I love it when my blorbos cry

[lamarseillasie]

Le Docteur Marat #01: Marat's medical competence

Salut, citoyens!

With the aim of informing and making an analysis based on primary sources about Marat's medical career, a career that, unfortunately, is little known - and, when known, usually ridiculed or belittled in various ways - by many, i have decided to start a series of posts in which i intend to dissect on subjects related to Marat's medical experiences as well as his writings. These posts will contain all primary sources at my fingertips, and i apologize in advance for my terrible English, as it is not my native language and i am still learning.

In this first post, we will address the following question, so controversial, doubted and misrepresented by many historians over the centuries: Was Marat a good doctor?

Before this question can be properly answered, it is necessary to be aware that the image of the historical character that Marat eventually became has been constantly counterfeited, adulterated and inaccurately represented by countless sources over time. Even in life, Marat was frequently attacked by many of his contemporary adversaries, who invented lies and false rumors about him and his life - especially his pre-revolutionary life. It is no coincidence that Marat was in the habit of constantly defending himself and justifying his actions in issues of his newspaper, L'Ami Du Peuple. When he died, many of the lies attributed to him were perpetuated and many were also developed by other biographers, writers and historians. Understanding that Marat's pre-revolutionary life was the target of several attempts to defame his image during the course of history, it is possible to understand the reasons why many people question whether he was really a good doctor.

Marat's training as a physician is thought to have begun during his stay in Bordeaux from 1760 to 1762 (Marat being 16-19 years old), at which time he worked as a tutor to one of the sons of Paul Nairac, a merchant. It is likely that his father, Jean-Mara, had some influence on his medical career and other of his academic interests. In his Portrait de l'Ami du peuple tracé par lui-même (1793), Marat mentions his father:

"The temperament of my soul comes from nature, but I owe the development of my character to my mother; for my father never aspired to make me anything other than a scholar."

It is not known for certain whether Jean-Mara was in fact the one who led Marat down the path of medicine. What can be conjectured is that he seems to have studied extensively from 1762, when he moved to Paris and then moving to England, where he does indeed seem to have started his career. In his Essay on gleets (1775) he mentions his "10 years practice" in the field. Little information, however, exists about this time, and the beginning of Marat's medical career unfortunately remains somewhat obscure.

But what were Marat's real qualifications? What can prove that he was a truly competent doctor in the field in the eyes of other doctors?

He received an M.D. degree from Andrews University in Scotland on June 30, 1775. The full diploma, as well as other documents and correspondence, can be found in F. Chèvremont, Jean-Paul Marat. I will leave it here below:

Even with a properly attested diploma, written and signed by two competent doctors, it is to be expected that those who oppose Marat have created assumptions and myths about his qualification. Many of his smearers claim that he bought the degree, since he has not defended any thesis. Clifford Conner debunks this story in Jean-Paul Marat: Tribune of the French Revolution [pg. 19-18]:

"His detractors have claimed that because there is no record of his actually having attended classes there, he must have bought the degree. His diploma was signed, however, by two medical examiners who officially certified Marat's competence as a physician. One of them, Dr. William Buchan, was a prominent medical authority whose books were published in multiple editions in both English and French."

"The way St. Andrews bestowed its degrees seems lax according to modern standards of medical education, but such comparisons are anachronistic. When Marat received his M.D. in 1775, he had already been practicing medicine for ten years. It was common in the eighteenth century-and in France even well into the nineteenth-for universities to confer degrees as a way of certifying the professional competence and educational preparation of working practitioners who had not actually attended classes at those institutions. Despite the illustrious Dr. Johnson's famous quip about St. Andrews "growing richer by degrees," the university was not regarded as a mere diploma mill. Benjamin Franklin, for one, expressed pride in the doctorate it had awarded him. Marat's M.D. was unquestionably authentic by the standards of the day."

In addition to the diploma, which is more than good evidence that Marat had skill in the field of medicine, it is possible to see his vast experience and evolution in the field, or at least in human anatomy and physiology, from his A philosophical essay on man (1773). This work, being a kind of treatise divided into three books that renew the ideas of his Essay on the human soul (1772), is of a more philosophical nature, although it makes it clear that Marat was at least a great connoisseur of the human body and its peculiarities. None of the thinkers and philosophers who criticized Marat's work at the time denied his full knowledge of the physiological theories or the anatomy of the fluids he presented, revealing that he had an excellent command of the various areas of the human body, something that certainly indicates an undeniable medical wisdom.

This ability to understand physiology is evident in several passages in volume 3, de l'homme. Here's one of my personal favorites:

"The human body is an admirable machine. If we look at it from the structural point of view, what a multiplicity of parts! What a prodigious number of forces! What justice, what precision in their effects! What intimacy in their union, what harmony in their dependence! Not only does it bring together all that is most beautiful in mechanics, but it surpowers them infinitely by the simplicity & play of its refforts. But the most marvellous thing is that the organs that make up these different machines all have different functions, when examined as a whole. In the body, not a single spring is isolated, but all are linked to one another, in mutual dependence, and thus contribute to forming a harmonious whole. Even less admirable for its structure than for its functions: if you look at it from this angle, what an astonishing variety of functions all rolled into one! A machine that plays & holds itself. A machine that can wind itself up. A machine by means of which the Soul relates to windowed objects. Machine by means of which the soul can act on bodies. Machine by means of which the Soul knows pleasure & pain. Machine in which the Soul paints with energy. Machine capable of reproducing itself."

But what were Marat's methods? What were his cures, his specialties?

Well, Marat himself is the main source able to confirm his own healing methods. Throughout his pre-revolutionary academic career, he produced a packed collection of works, letters and accounts relating to his experiences as a physician, describing situations and cures he performed on various patients. There seems to be no reason to question the reality of these cures, since, in Essay on gleets, Marat states that his patients (all named by their initials, so as to remain anonymous), "would not refuse confirmation of the truth if other patients wished a private interview. They even promised me that." [pg. 18 in Payennevile's French translation].

It is known that he cured the Marquise de L'Aubespine of a disease that other doctors considered incurable, and so his notoriety as a doctor began to grow. But Marat's clientele is a subject for another post. It is impossible to talk about his medical techniques without mentioning one of his greatest passions and specialties in the scientific field: electrotherapy. Marat constantly defended and disserted on the effects of electric fluid in medicine, describing situations in which he had used electrotherapy to successfully treat some of his patients. He is above all a nuanced and lucid theorist, although fascinated by the progress of the discovery of electricity; even so, he does not allow himself to be carried away by mesmerism, which he openly opposes in his Mémoire sur l'életricité médicale (1773).

Moreover, it is important to mention observation as one of Doctor Marat's main methods. In all the branches in which he operates to some extent - even in his philosophy - observation is the most present, most striking feature, and the one most demonstrated by Marat himself as being his most effective technique for developing and associating healing methods. He seems to have a passion for observation and for relating the various sciences through in-depth analysis, which explains the thoroughness with which he shows he treats each of his patients. Although the cures and therapeutic procedures carried out and proposed by Marat did not deviate so much from what was common in the Age of Enlightenment, it is more than possible to consider that he had an early mentality and far beyond his time for an 18th century physician. This is evident in his writings on the treatment of blenorrhagia, for example.

In a number of letters to the Gazette de Santé, Marat describes the cures he performed on patients. This set of letters reveals precisely the medical techniques he used at the time in each case - including dilutions, infusions and decoctions - and also discusses electrotherapy. These letters prove that Marat was undoubtedly competent as a medical observer and that he often linked his medical practice with the physical knowledge he so valued. Marat's concern to assess each illness as an isolated case and examine its symptoms is noticeable in almost all the letters.

This excerpt from a letter written by Marat in response to the husband of one of his patients clearly shows his concern with the clinical evaluation of symptoms in order to formulate a diagnosis:

"Does the patient have any chest pain? Is there any tearing when she coughs? Does she sleep on both sides or on her back? Is his sputum stained with blood? Is there any pus? Has she been prone to colds? Does she experience any change in the atmosphere? Does she hemorrhage, and has she? How is her appetite? Does she have night sweats? Does she hemorrhage, and has she? Does she have a low-grade fever? Is she in a slump?"

The full letter, along with some other information about it, can be found on pages 130-132 of Marat inconnu (1891), by Docteur Cabanés.

For a good period of his pre-revolutionary life, Marat was a typical physician and scholar of the Age of Enlightenment, demonstrating in his writings - however much they may have been purely publicistic - an undeniable wisdom in physiological, electrotherapeutic and physical knowledge in general. He has been, since his youth, a voracious reader, a real scholar and invariably a sage. Observation proved crucial to his medical technique, and the numerous letters and testimonies quoted above confirm the importance Marat attached to factors such as climate, diet and the behavior of his patients during their respective treatments. It is no wonder that he was able to cure many people with apparent effectiveness.

Marat evidently had a great deal of expertise in gonorrhea and eye-related diseases, cases in which he usually felt comfortable using electrification as one of his healing methods. All these characteristics of Marat's medicine are present in his letters to the Gazette de Santé, already mentioned above, and can also be seen in his medical works. In his book Marat (1996), Professor Olivier Coquard comments on this:

"On the whole, Marat appears as a typical representative of the doctors of the Enlightenment, despite training essentially acquired on the job. It targets a wealthy clientele, who pay dearly for their consultations and through which they want to integrate into society. His medical practice associates the use of the most traditional medicines with a very enlightened and precocious concern with clinical observation.

At the same time, the integration of electricity into the panoply of therapeutic instruments translates an essential aspect of Marathi's conception of science and the world: everything is interdependent. For the doctor, it is essential to master not only physiology, but the set of scientific disciplines."

What can we conclude from all this?

Marat was, in fact, a competent physician. He proved to have much more than a basic knowledge in medicine, and to claim that he was a quack in this field is quite wrong. The knowledge he possessed about anatomy and its different functions combined with his passion for the physical sciences and his autonomous, work-based experience and pure observation about treatments for eye diseases is groundbreaking in the historical context in which he found himself. Doctor Marat was very wise about his therapeutic techniques with electricity, the latter having been the target element of his studies for several long years of his life. In a future post, I would like to delve deeper into each of the cases and patients treated by Marat, exploring his clientele and his correspondence with Roume de Saint-Laurent, who was a great supporter of his scientific and medical career.

I end this long (?) post here. As much as we cannot witness his methods or watch his work live, there is no doubt that Marat was an advanced mind for his time as far as medicine was concerned. For various reasons, including his academic ambitions, his relationships, his scientific passions and his self-promoting ability, he was able to consolidate himself for a time very comfortably in this field, being known as Doctor Marat, who, possessed of a relatively well-off clientele, would probably not have imagined himself to be one of France's main revolutionary leaders in the near future. I am of the opinion, as is Dr. Jean-François Lemaire in his book Marat: homme de science? (1993) that Marat was an excellent doctor. His memory should therefore be taken seriously. Dr. Marat, an efficient, apt and prudent doctor, deserves to have the slanders against him debunked, so that people can understand that, before being a Friend of the People, he was above all a fine eccentric example of a Man of the Enlightenment.

Vitam impendere vero.

* I've taken a lot of inspiration from the biographies of Olivier Coquard and Docteur Cabanés to write this post, and so I'm being careful to design them the credits for most of the things I've written and the information I've used! :)

* Some of the images are photos taken by me on my cell phone, so I ask for forgiveness if they are a bit bad to read.

* I apologize for my bad English, it is not my native language and that is why it took me a long time to write this post. The translations of the letters may also contain errors, as I was the one who translated them.

#marat #jean paul marat #le docteur marat #frev #french revolution #my posts

[cookieandbread]

I rewatched X-men Apocalypse like today and here are my thoughts (keep in mind I barely remember the other movies and have not read a single X-men comics in my entire life. also I am incredibely sleep deprived and english is not my first language)

I don't remember much from first class but I remember I LOVED ALEX. AND THEY KILLED HIM. THEY KILLED MY BABY. (I barely remembered his name but I'm emotionally attached okay)

I also remember Erik and Charles being gay as fuck and it's so funny how hard the writers of this movie try to say "no no they're not gay" but fail miserably

Erik losing his family (AGAIN) killed me tho. he's not even my favorite character but PLEASE give him a happy ending. PLEASE. I could write an essay on why he needs a happy ending.

about Erik's family... I love and hate the "Peter is secretely Erik's son and he has to tell him" storyline. love because I have daddy issues and I love Peter and hate because there's one thing and one thing only I remember from Dark Phoenix and it's that PETER DOES NOT TELL ERIK HE IS HIS SON. IN FACT, PETER ONLY APPEARS IN LIKE THE 20 FIRST MINUTES OF THE MOVIE AND THEN FUCK OFF. I HAVE TO LIVE WITH THE FACT THAT I'LL NEVER SEE THAT DAD REVEAL ON SCREEN AND I DON'T THINK I'LL EVER BE ABLE TO HEAL FROM IT. I'll never recover. "I'm your... I'm here for my family too." will haunt me til the day I die. (Now don't get me wrong I 100% understand why he didn't tell him at that moment and it would have been fine by me IF HE HAD TOLD HIM IN DARK PHOENIX)

why does Pietro Maximoff gets so little respect? in the MCU they kill him in the first movie he appears in and the Fox changes his name and shits on the only storyline he has. why do they hate him?????

still on Erik: did he really need to be the villain again? if I remember correctly he kind of turned bad guy at the end of First Class because he killed the guy who murdered his mom because he couldn't make the coin move and then he was full on bad guy in that one X-men where they went in the past (Days of Future Past according to google) and it made sense because of his past and how he was forced to see violence as the only answer but like... AGAIN? with Apocalypse???? (according to google his name is En Sabah Nur) I get the guy had kind of manipulated his four accomplices into joining him but like... did it have to be Erik??? I get the whole repeating the cycle of violence, but isn't the point to break out of it? it feels kind of repetitive

still on En Sabah Nur/Apocalypse, I would have loved to see more how he manipulated Storm, Magneto, Angel and Psylocke to join him. while Erik had a reason to join back the X-men (he's super gay for Charles), Storm changing sides felt kind out of nowhere???? like we see her hesitate a little but we don't understand why she hesitates now when Apocalypse is fighting for the world he promised and not when he killed people (albeit to protect her but like...) I mean I guess there's the whole hero worship for Ravent but then why did she went with Apocalypse in the first place? Raven is a hero because she showed how mutants could cohabitate with humans, not by destroying them!!!! if Storm admires her, why going against everything she represents???? AND WHY DID THEY ALL WENT "yeah okay still rooting for that guy" WHEN APOCALYPSE WAS EXPLAINING TO CHARLES HOW BIG HIS CONTROL ISSUES WERE

whatever is going on with Hank and Raven... I just... don't like that ship. it made me uncomfortable when I watched First Class, it still makes me uncomfortable.

I remember liking her more in First Class and Days of Future Past tho??? she kind of annoyed me in Apocalypse. like wdym you wanna make child (I think they're children? not Peter but the rest) soldiers???? did the first X-men not teach you anything???? YOU AND HANK ARE LITERALY THE ONLY SURVIVORS OF THAT?

they never give us Storm's name??? or maybe I wasn't paying attention but I'm pretty sure THEY NEVER GIVE US HER ACTUAL NAME??? I guess I could find it if I searched on internet (update: I did, she's called Ororo Munroe, that's so cool) but I'm pretty sure they never say it in the movie???? like they just call her Storm???? DO THEY EVEN CALL HER STORM BECAUSE NOW THAT I THINK ABOUT IT I DON'T REMEMBER PEOPLE CALLING HER THAT EITHER???? (I have a short attention span tho)

from the little I remember of the 2000's trilogy, my favorite chatacter is Storm and I was so sad she had like so little dialogue. I hope it's better in Dark Phoenix??? I mean I'm not gonna rewatch it because I remember really not liking it the first time but PLEASE I BEG YOU let my girl TALK and have a PERSONALITY

Kurt is adorable. I just want to wrap him in bubble wrap and make sure nothing happens to him ever again.

I like Jean but I really don't care for her whole Phoenix thing. it probably has to do with how many times I've watched X-men 3 when I was younger (too many times) and how much I did not like Dark Phoenix but it bores me. like okay we get it she has that dangerous thing inside of her and it's very destructive and it's going to kill everyone she loves and she's going to have to die to prevent that. we get it. can we move on now? idk it frustrates me that Jean gets to have a movie centered around her not once but twice while both Peter and Ororo (and so many other but they're my favs) can't have basic character development.

I genuinly did not care for Scott. also how did he not get character development when his brother died??? he cried about it 2 seconds and then poof. out of sight out of mind. I wanna know how he gets rid of his grief so easily

I've checked when the other movies take place and... I don't understand... how are they aging... I'm so confused... wtf is that timeline... why is there a movie every 10 year? what is everyone's age ????

do I regret rewatching this movie? yes. yes I do. now I am going to obsess over how they could have handled so many things (notably Peter's daddy issues) so much better and lose all my sleep to fix-it fics.

#xmen apocalypse #magneto #erik lensherr #charles xavier #raven darkholme #mystique #peter maximoff #quicksilver #ororo munroe #jean grey #scott summers

[flockofdoves]

im going fucking cuckoo bananas. why is it so hard to fill my schedule to be a full time student for my last semester when i am infamously the type of person who wants to learn about everything ever and jumps at any opportunity to take random classes

have really really really wanted to take advanced spanish grammar for so long but every fucking semester i have a necessary class during that time (due to the epidemic of every class in the world being in late morning on tuesday/thursday) and this semester my One Singular Class I Absolutely Need To Graduate is at that time

so then i was like. oh well. i'll take italian 1 instead since my grandfather has been trying to plan one last trip to where his family is from and if i get to go it will be good to practice italian in a formal context

but then that trip fell through and i just really really want to improve my spanish so i emailed a class for heritage speakers to see if it would be appropriate for me and the professor got back to me and said i was welcome to come to the first class and try it out

and so today i went to the spanish for heritage speakers class and it made me so so excited to be immersed in spanish again and going over the content of the course, with the exception of how i don't really need much writing help since when i was learning all the basics of how to read and write i did that as much in spanish as i did english, all the grammar topics were exactly what i needed and the idea of a class where everyone talks at a high level and theres no english but you still get into the basics of explaining different grammar topics is so so refreshing!!!

and at the end of class the professor was like your spanish is at a high enough level for this class so if you want to take it then see you monday! and it got me so excited

and then the italian class was just really extremely basic. i understand basically anything said to me in italian and know a decent amount of vocab i just have trouble speaking but throughout my life i have at least studied basics like past and present tense and articles and stuff. so my goals were to learn more grammar and make my pronunciation better (i always pronounce everything so spanish and dont have a good sense for what words have which e or o sound)

but this professor was like yeah basically this whole course is just present tense and well learn the sinple past tense right at the end. but i already know that!!! and also unfortunately she has a noticeable american accent while speaking so thats not much help for improving my accent either

so i was like well whatever that makes my decision easy ill drop italian and take the spanish class. but still just in case i asked her about if i could take an italian placement test (was nervous about that originally because the next level up was during my necessary class again) and she was like yeah ive never had to do that before but i can figure that out for next week. which is a little nervewracking bc add/drop ends on wednesday. but whatever i was excited about taking spanish now

but then when i got home today i saw an email from the spanish professor (technically a grad student) like ‘i talked to my colleagues and even if your spanish level is high enough since you are not a heritage speaker here are some classes better suited for you [classes where you write huge essays in spanish which i do not have the time or desire for rn]’

and that was upsetting because i just really most of anything wanted to take a spanish class but then i was feeling a bit better because it turned out there was a new section added of the italian 2 class that fit my schedule and looking through that classes textbook it seemed the exact mix of easy but not boring because ill still actually be learning stuff that i needed. and i even called my mom (who used to be an italian language professor) and read the textbook units and she agreed it seemed exactly right for me

so i went to start writing an email to that professor to be proactive even before taking the placement test but in the fucking half hour since i had last checked the page rhat section of the class filled up with no waitlist

so i looked through the entire search of classes in a certain block of time not on tuesday thursday for my giant university and literally rhe only thing that seemed both manageable and interesting was an intro to japanese class. and i was excited like wow! how did i miss this when i was first searching for classes! only to click on it and remember i did see it and the reason it wasnt on my backup class list was because it doesnt allow seniors to take it

#so like i guess maybe just sending a desperate begging email to the italian 2 professor lol #cpost

[ruminativerabbi]

Can the Center Hold?

As we move forward through these strange times, I find myself careening these days back and forth between my native pessimism about the world and the occasional flash of uncharacteristic optimism. On the whole, things are probably no worse than they have been in the course of these last few months. And in some ways, things are actually looking up. (For one thing, I keep hearing rumors about some sort of imminent deal that will bring at least some of the hostages home. So that sounds hopeful.) I know both those things. But another part of me feels that the gyre is widening and that, at least in the end, the center will not hold. I write this week not to scare or depress, but to share my ill ease and to find comfort in inviting you to join me in hoping together for better times to come.

Yeats (that is, William Butler Yeats, 1865—1939) was one of the world’s greatest English-language poets, a Nobel laureate, eventually a senator in the Irish government. He was a strong Irish nationalist and he definitely flirted—and probably even more than just flirted— with the rising fascist movements of the 1930s. Not an anti-Semite in same sense as Ezra Pound or T. S. Eliot, he was nonetheless part of a world that held anti-Judaism and anti-Semitism to be part of a normal, educated person’s worldview. (For a brief but trenchant review of Irish anti-Semitism over the ages that appeared in the Irish Times a few years ago and that specifically mentions Yeats, click here.) There’s a lot of evidence to review, but I don’t wish to sort it all out here. Nor do I want to comment—not now, at any rate—about the set of bizarre reasons that have led Ireland to be the most consistently anti-Israel nation in Europe. (For a recent essay published in the U.K.’s Jewish Chronicle on that precise topic, click here.) Instead, I’d like to use one of Yeats’ most famous poems, “The Second Coming,” to frame my thoughts about the world we are all living in.

Yeats begins his poem with a stunning image:

            Turning and turning in the widening gyre

            The falcon cannot hear the falconer;

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;

Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,

The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere

The ceremony of innocence is drowned;

The best lack all conviction, while the worst

Are full of passionate intensity.

A gyre is a gigantic circular oceanic surface current. Before the poet starts to write, he looks out at the sea and finds it calm, placid, and peaceful. And then the churning begins. At first, it is barely perceptible, hardly even noticeable. And then, slowly, the motion picks up speed. What was tranquil and serene just a moment earlier is suddenly unsteady and unfixed in place. And as the speed of the water picks up, the pleasurable expectation of swimming peacefully in calm waters is replaced by the fear of drowning in those same waters. Nothing, suddenly, is as it should be. The tightest personal connections—Yeats uses the intimate relationship of the falcon and the falconer—become attenuated, then ruined entirely by the deafening gyre as it picks up speed and grows louder and stronger. In the world the poet is comparing to the sea, then, things that are normally each other’s natural complement—butter and toast, coffee and cream, pillow and pillowcase, socks and feet—these normal connections too weaken. And, in the end, the center itself around which life revolves—the family, the house, the workplace, the church, the shul, the park, the grocery—the center doesn’t hold and what was once normal, even pedestrian, now seems unpredictable and in a state of permanent, debilitating flux. And then, just like that, nothing at all seems fixed in place. Or safe.

I’ve lost track of the news even though I read obsessively. I subscribe to a dozen daily news bulletins, peruse half a dozen on-line newspapers, have an inbox that is constantly overflowing. My junk file has its own junk file. I am, I think, as up-to-date on the world’s goings-on as anyone who has a day job could possibly be. Mostly, I deal with it all by compartmentalizing the data, thus storing it in manageable chunks for later degustation (which I occasionally even get to). In that way, my center can hold. But just lately the center is not holding. And the gyre feels more than ever as though it is ominously large and ever-widening.

Let’s consider one single week’s worth of news. A man was arrested last Monday in London and charged with having attacked several employees in a kosher supermarket with a knife. In Haifa, a terrorist drove his car into a crowd of civilians just yards from the front entrance to the Haifa Naval Base. A Chabad rabbi in Washington was pushed out of a Lyft cab by the driver, who then violently attacked him. A terror cell about to perpetrate an “October 7-like attack” was identified and neutralized in Jenin. A would-be terrorist was shot and killed as he tried to murder soldiers standing guard at the entrance to Tekoa, a peaceful town in the Gush Etzion bloc that Joan and I visited just last summer. The International Court of Justice considered seriously a charge of attempted genocide made by South Africa against Israel, then rendered its decision almost without reference at all to the October 7 pogrom that took the lives of well over twelve hundred innocent Israeli civilians, some of whom were beheaded and others of whom were raped. The speaker of the French National Assembly commented the other day that the steep resurgence of violent anti-Semitism in France had reached the level at which it poses “a threat to the foundations of [the French] republic.” Federal agents in Massachusetts arrested a man who was making credible threats of mass violence against Jews and Jewish institutions in his state. Undeniable proof was adduced that UNRWA, the branch of the United Nations charged with supplying humanitarian aid to the Palestinians, is so suffused with actual Hamas-affiliated terrorists and sympathizers that it wouldn’t be that unreasonable for UNRWA itself to be considered a terrorist organization. (If you have access to the on-line version of the Wall St. Journal, click here for a truly shocking account of the whole UNRWA scandal.) The top civil rights officer at the U.S. Department of Education, who has spent her entire professional life as a civil rights attorney, declared herself “astounded” at the level of anti-Semitic aggression the characterizes our nation’s college campuses. To offer one single example, students at Stanford University, once a school I would have characterized as one of our nation’s finest, were chased just last week from a campus forum on anti-Semitism by a crowd of haters threatening to hunt them down in their homes and, at least by implication, to murder them there. (Click here for the horrific details. They’d have to pay me to send a kid of mine to Stanford. But I wouldn’t anyway.)

Is the center holding? More or less. So far.

The poet continues with reference to anarchy being “loosed upon the world” and goes on to imagine innocence itself drowning as the “blood-dimmed” tide rises. And the problem is not only the brutal barbarism of the aggressor; it’s also the fecklessness of the aggressed-against: “The best lack all conviction, while the worst / are full of passionate intensity.” Oy. And so ends the first half of the poet’s poem.

Being a Christian, Yeats imagines the salvation of the world in Christian terms. No problem with that for me: in what language should the man speak if not his own? And so the Christian man looks to the horizon for salvation and expects Jesus. But Jesus does not appear at all. The poet is ready for the Second Coming, for the messianic moment, for redemption. But on the horizon he suddenly espies something else entirely:

…somewhere in sands of the desert

A shape with lion body and the head of a man,

A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,

Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it

Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.

The darkness drops again; but now I know

That twenty centuries of stony sleep

Were vexed to nightmare…

The savior cometh not and instead cometh the “rough beast, its hour come round at last.” The poet expects to be saved, but his hopes are dashed as his faith turns out to have been misplaced entirely because all the distant horizon can deliver up is a monster. All the promises of modern society—prosperity, human dignity, security—turn out to be hollow,  misshapen fantasies; none will help much. Or at all. The much-awaited Second Coming yields only an ogre, a fiend, a “rough beast.” There is no hope.

And where does that leave us? I too look to the horizon and wait for redemption. I also fear the “rough beasts” of anti-Semitism, anti-Israelism, anti-humanism, and anti-Americanism, the four horsemen (to wander back into Christian terms) of my personal most-feared apocalypse. And yet, despite it all, I don’t find myself entirely drained of hope. I keep perusing the headlines with all the doom they presage for the world and all the terribleness they recount, but somehow find myself able to retain hope in the future. Where that comes from, I have no idea. Maybe it has to do with relativity. Hamas is Amalek, but we’ve faced worse. Our American college campuses are minefields for Jewish students, but things will surely improve as the problem is dragged out into the light and the world can see the haters for what they are and respond accordingly. Israel’s set of tasks in Gaza is beyond daunting, but the tide seems slowly to be turning. I continue to harbor the real hope that the hostages are all still alive and that the rumors of a deal to release them will turn into reality. And even though the streets of our cities seem clogged with villains whose hatred for Israel feels visceral rather than rational, I still have confidence that the American people will never embrace anti-Judaism and that the republic, the indivisible one featuring liberty and justice for all, will never turn on its own citizens. Do I sound Pollyanna-ish or rationally hopeful? Like an ostrich with its head in the sand or a Jew with his head held high? Even I am not sure. But I continue to believe in the future, in our future in this place and in the future of Israel. “You may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one.”

#W.B. Yeats #Gyre #The Second Coming

[savrenim]

the "oh god I'm poor, help" editing+tutoring masterpost

says it all in the title. my life is a flaming trash heap right now which will be less of a flaming trash heap if I actually had enough money to stop my partner from becoming homeless without dipping into my savings every month.

If you want to support me directly: ko-fi: https://ko-fi.com/savrenim patreon: https://www.patreon.com/savrenim <- currently am posting early access to all of my writing here, but eventually I will post more exclusive director's commentary style content again

Editing: I can proofread for grammar and provide commentary for both academic essays, fanfiction, and original writing. You can find samples of my writing in the 'my writing' tab, and I do all of my own editing and proofreading. I have been editing as a tutor professionally for over a decade, with repeat customers from my high school days who have used me all throughout college. I reserve the right to turn down any request, but am confident in effectively any subject up through college level, including mathematical proofs. Language English only. Pricing: $10: first up to 500 words $0.01 per additional word For jobs under 10k words, standard turnaround time is 1 week. Per additional 10k words, an additional week is added. For under 10k words, rush prices are: -> Additional $1 per 1k words for 5 day turnaround -> Additional $3 per 1k words for 3 day turnaround -> Additional $5 per 1k words for 24 hour turnaround Rush jobs over 10k words for negotiated prices.

Tutoring: I have tutored for over 15 years now; including three years professionally in college, leading math study rooms, TAing in graduate school for four years, and even fully teaching college courses. Subjects: any high school math; precalc, calc i,ii,iii,iv, differential equations, linear algebra, abstract algebra, real analysis, dynamical systems, number theory, proofs/mathematical reasoning. other general math/physics topics may be possible albeit at higher rates as that requires more prep work on my end. What It Looks Like: send me the homework assignment, test study guide, or topic (including textbook and chapter if relevant) at least 24 hours in advance. tutoring sessions will be held on discord, where I will screenshare a digital blackboard. at the end of the session, after full payment is made, I will send you the pdf of everything covered in the session. Pricing: $1/ min ; half hour minimum for sessions, then done in additional 15 minute increments. pay half in advance, half on completion of the session. payment accepted through ko-fi or venmo only.

#my life #I know the tutoring costs are a bit high but like. wrt actual market rates of 'person with a Masters degree who has taught college courses' #they are in fact very low #you might notice that I set this up so that there will be zero doxxing involved on either end #the amount of pressure it would take off of me to not be dipping into my savings as I desperately search for a job is HUGE #this will hopefully disappear once I have a job and can actually support everyone relying on me but. until then.

[agrioxoiros]

You know you're in too deep when you haven't even finished the thing and are already planning a full translation in your head

ok so. Here's what i got so far

Natural Dialogue. The Hearthians are meant to sound familiar, like your actual family and friends. Nomai speech is translated, and there is some stiltiness to it that sells the effect - literally translated slang, overly formal language for casual situations and so on. To maintain that contrast, translated Hearthian dialogue has to still sound natural.

Naming Conventions. Most people names are made up, and can just be phonetically transcribed with no issue. Location names are descriptive, and do not always translate well. "Tower of Quantum Knowledge" translates directly. "Brittle Hollow" does not. "Εύθραυστο Κενό"? That doesn't sound like a real place name someone in universe came up with. Most planet names have the same issue. They all need to be changed in accordance with greek naming conventions.

Gendered Language. The Hearthians are genderless and use they/them pronouns. This is cool as hell, but also troubling from a translation standpoint, for two reasons. First, there is no equivalent to they/them in greek, because our plural pronouns are themselves gendered. The only gender neutral pronoun we have is the equivalent to it/its. Second, greek puts gender in more than its pronouns. Our nouns and adjectives are gendered. In greek, you are not a teacher (gender neutral); you are a teacher (masculine) or a teacher (feminine).

This is the point where I have to delve a bit into linguistic history as I, an uneducated dumbass, understand it. Both english and greek became in need of such language when women began taking jobs that were previously only for men. In english, this led to the adoption of neutral language: "policeman" became "police officer", "he" became "they". In greek, we just decided that some masculine words are actually neutral. This is not unheard of in English either, such as with the way actor/actress are used: the masculine version can also be used for women, the feminine version is for women only, and also considered a bit silly. And it maps onto the way gender is often constucted in society, with male being the default and female being an extra thing and kind of frivolous.

Interestingly, this creates some complications for translations of the Nomai text. See, even though the Nomai have genders, they do not appear at this point in my playthrough to have a gender hierarchy. If they were to refer to a group of mixed genders, using they (masculine), as is the greek norm, would imply the existence of such a hierarchy.

Now, this is not to say that non-gendered terms for people do not exist in greek. They are just limited. There are cases where you would refer to a person with such language, mainly in casual conversation. Terms of endearment and insults can both be gender neutral. Some gendered terms are grammatically neutral, like boy and girl. There are some greek trans people who use it/its, and queer groups that use the neutral they when adressing their members. But so much of the language is deeply gendered, and trying to remove the gender from it feels like trying to remove the chloroplasts from a leaf.

So this brings us to the central dilemma: do I use masculine language as gender neutral, inserting partiarchal values in a story that lacks them? Or do I use neutral language, and risk my dialogue becoming stilted and alienating? How do i even translate the sentence "you are our best pilot" using neutral language when the only greek word for pilot is masculine? How do i translate something as simple as "my friends" when the only neutral version of that word is also a diminutive and therefore slightly changes the meaning of what is said?

Conclusion. This post turned into an essay halfway through writing it. I do not know if I will actually make that translation. I am known to lose interest in projects very quickly, and I've never made any kind of mod before. But even as a thought experiment it made me think about language, about gender, and about translation itself.

Personally I am more inclined towards using it/its, because I am a proponent of the queer agenda and also because I don't want to make Hearthians look like space Smurfs. But it is not a decision to be made lightly, and choosing to stay true to the original in that aspect will force changes in others.

#outer wilds #spoilers #translation #linguistics

[guessimabasicnerdgirlnow]

English class in high school was wild

I had English lessons since kindergarten in my first school, but then it closed and I went to a school that only had English classes in middle school. I studied with a bunch of rich kids that had private lessons, though, so everyone knew everything we were learning about, and most of tests were just filling in the blanks with the verb in the right tense, so I memorized all the irregular verbs and I did fine, despite having no idea what any of that actually meant

Then in high school I went to a different school in which you could choose between English and Spanish. Spanish started from zero, while English had different levels and you did a test to figure out what level you were. If you scored below the minimum level for your grade, you had to take Spanish instead

I remember I was terrified. And also in this new school you actually had to write short essays in English and speak only in English the whole class, or so they said, which were both things I had never done before

(I chose English instead of Spanish because Spanish would be completely new to me, and I’m told it’s harder)

But something magical happened. In the long vacations before high school started, I got into a video game. Like most games at the time, it was only available in English. But I needed to play it, and then I needed to watch and read the additional material, and I later got a tumblr account and started roleplaying and later reading fanfic. I ended up being placed on the highest level, with mostly other kids that either had private lessons or like me played a lot of video game (and there was even one kid that had lived abroad!)

The teachers we had in the two first years were incredibly chill and lessons went fast because most of us (including me, somehow) already knew the subject, and we had a lot of free time. So we watched movies. A bunch of movies. Musicals, romcoms, horror, you name it. And though we were watching them to “practice English”, we often used ptbr subs. We watched The Runaways, about a 70s band and full of drugs and lesbians, in a military school lol (the teacher rightfully skipped the sex scene)

Third year was all about standardized tests. Everyone of all levels joined in one class and the teacher was like “so, you still don’t know any English. Here are some tricks to pretend you do.”

I also joined the English drama club, which isn’t as cool as the drama clubs in the US I see on tv (or in the musical fandom), but it was lovely even so. I wanted to practice speaking, and I did, though I am still bad at pronouncing words

I did get a toefl certificate when I studied abroad (it was in Japan but my classes were in English). Usually people take at least some time of private lessons for it, but the teacher there evaluated me and said I was ready for the actual test. All thanks to video game (and the teachers I had in school all my life, of course, but I didn’t really care to put enough effort to actually learn before the video game, and the rps, and the fics… not to mention the rps and just talking to people made me write and having to write and speak seems to be the best way to learn a language. It’s very hard for a class to give me the same sense of “I have to use this to communicate” when my teachers and classmates all speak my language) (also, to be fair, I just wanted to go to Japan in the first place because of that video game. The same game is the reason I chose my current occupation. I am autistic after all)

#shut up brock

[backatitagainatichirakus]

I've been OBSESSING with team ro this past week because of the potential it has of turning Kakashi's life into more of the tragedy it already is.

Imagine, team Ro becoming Kakashi's found family. He doesn't want it to, but after Tenzo joins he just can't help himself and starts to care deeply. And his team cares back, they adore their captain, and start fights with whoever badmouths him. Which happens often because Kakashi has a reputation of being insufferable, cold, of killing his teammates.

One time someone says that Kakashi ripped Obito's eye off and killed the boy himself and Shisui breaks their clavicle.

Imagine them sneaking into Kakashi's apartment because they can't handle a particular nightmare and feel eyes on their back no matter where they go. And they know Kakashi's safe, they know he'd die in a heartbeat for any of them, that he'll always go back for them, that they aren't expendable to him.

And Kakashi is 17 to 20 during this time, he's younger than a few members of his team and barely older than others. And he loves them, but he's crumbling under the responsibility that comes along being loved and trusted, of being the only one willing to put himself between his team and certain death. And yet, he feels he is doing good, he is keeping them safe and whole and—

And Shisui kills himself, and Kakashi doesn't understand why, what did he miss? This is the second time he misses the signs, and this time it was his responsibility. He is a failure as son, a student, a teammate and as a captain.

Itachi is avoiding him, he probably blames him too.

Yugao and Tenzou still look at him like he hung the Moon and stars and that's somehow worse.

And one day Itachi snaps and murders his entire clan, and Kakashi looks back to every interaction he had with the boy, and wonders why, why, why. What didn't he see?

He trained Itachi, the boy was already a sharp weapon when he joined his team but Kakashi sharpened it even further, he taught him how to fight multiple opponents compensating for his poor stamina. He taught him every fire nature jursu he knew. He taught him how to use a tanto the same way Sakumo had taught him.

Kakashi has experienced lost, and loathing (from himself and others), and regret, and helplessness, and grief and guilt, but nothing prepared him for the feeling of betrayal.

And now Sasuke Uchiha is an orphan, and it's all Kakashi's fault.

And suddenly he is 14 again and trying to lose his life by the enemy's blade..

And once he is out of ANBU and in the Jounin corps again as a teacher candidate, the old members of his squad start dying one after the other until there's only a handful left, too used to someone caring for them and watching their back, used to the certainty that someone will always come for them.

And it's all Kakashi's fault. He isn't there anymore.

#Kakashi #Team ro #Anbu #Itachi #Yugao #Tenzou #Please take my phone away from mw I've got a test in an hour and I can't stop talking about Kakashi #I just.... love seeing him suffer #Treating myself by ruining his life #English is not even my first language and here I am writing full essays in it because I love it when my blorbos cry #Hc #Mip

[serpentargo]

for those of y'all who say that sambucky scenes don't look gay, or even if they do, it's all by an accident, or that's all anthony and sebastian i just want to tell you something:

marvel isn't dumb. any hint of gayness, especially the visual one - it's always a big no-no. they're making everything 'no homo' (with some rare exceptions), and we all know it.

stackie are stackie, but they're qualified, educated and experienced professionals, they know what amount of their chemistry to leave on and off screen.

now, directors, writers and producers were choosing the scenes to put into the final version of the series. there were many shots done, just compare the trailers. so why did they choose the ones they chose? (keep the first point i wrote in mind). i'm sure there were different kinds of shots done, some gayer, some not. but we got what we got, and if you actually replace sam or bucky with a woman - it's a love story, romcom, without a question.

i don't know where i'm going with all of this, but it's just sometimes i have this internal debate on whether sambucky will actually become canon or not, and my hopeful self has these arguments, so i decided to write them here. i know i may sound too hopeful, but... who knows? (i will be super disappointed if sam and bucky will stay as friends at the end because my brain just accepted the fact that they have to be canon, but i won't be surprised)

other arguments include (there's a lot):

all the things kari and malcolm (and actors) said about sambucky's relationship

the scenes? i know for sambuckies it's normal to think about the gay content we got, because we think about it everyday. but if we were to actually sum it all up we have so many, that i'm afraid i may forget something:

first we got the staring,

then rolling in the field,

therapy scene (+ their legs intertwined)

2 days of flying (read more detailed analysis by @redwingsupportgroup here) on a private jet (what were they doing all that time??),

then all of the sudden the staring problem dissapears (you can read about it more in this post by @yikesdontlook),

fixing the boat together while having all this intimacy, holding hands for ten (10) seconds straight while looking at each others' lips,

touch (see: amazing gifs by @thatwinterfalconshow pt.1, pt.2, pt.3),

the way bucky looks at sam while he is out there saving the truckload full of people,

having all four love languages included (these beautiful gifs by @pietro-maximoff),

the way they talk about each other to others

i also made this post before the 5th and 6th episode came out, you might want to check it out because we don't talk about 1-4 episodes enough

literally fanfic tropes being out there (more about it here)

no other couple in the entire mcu had all of the intimacy sam and bucky had (not even wanda and vision (to some extent), considering they got like 10 episodes, and sambucky had only 6)

this post (i'm sure we all saw an read it, it's really convincing right?) by wonderful @wenellyb, who's analyzing skills amaze me each time

the last clip without the music, where it isn't quite clear what exactly bucky says, but the point is that he wants to move in with sam

however there's a major counterargument: disney™

though i really think that considering captain america 4/tfatws 2nd season is coming out in at least 2 or 3 years, maybe things will change? maybe people in 2023/2024 will be more accepting? (here)

p.s: i'm sorry if there are grammatical mistakes, english isn't my first language, plus i am really tired rn... so yeah. i also got a bit distracted and ended up writing a whole ass essay hehehe

p.p.s: i hope it's okay i tagged you and your posts, and if it's not, please dm me and i'll remove it!

#tfatws #sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #marvel #winterfalcon #buckysam #mcu #sam x bucky #sambucky meta

[dragon-kazansky]

Yes, sir! | Niki Lauda

Professor Lauda AU! 👨‍🏫

Gender neutral reader

Dedicated to @lieutenantn and @scuttle-buttle

I'm using the first names of people I know in real life for the friends, so I apologise if you share the same name 😅

And thank you @scuttle-buttle for letting me make references to your fic 'The interpretation of dreams'

Some of my German translations may be wrong, I'm still learning 🥺

[Next chapter]

Part 1

You sat outside on campus. Your classes didn't start until tomorrow, but your friends started today. You agreed to meet them for lunch. You hadn't been sat outside for too long when they came out. Upon seeing you, they rush over, smiling.

"Lucky you with your extra day off," Katie says, grinning. She was studying music. This girl and her guitar were a force to be reckoned with, that's for sure.

"It's only one day," you laugh.

"One day more than we got," Michael added. When it came to computers, you knew no one better.

"Still, must be exciting not that you've started your classes. I'm not scheduled until tomorrow."

"Speaking of, what did you even pick? You never actually told us," Michael asks, sitting down next to you.

"Literature and languages."

"Ooo, look at you with your 2 subjects," Katie laughs.

"Just wait until I can tell you fuck off in other languages, then we'll see who's laughing," you grin.

"Funny. Can we go eat now?"

You nod and the lot of you go to the nearest cafe for lunch. The Red Wing is a nice little place to meet with friends and catch up, and it was really close to the university.

You grab a table near the window while Michael goes to order for everyone.

"Do you want to know who your Professors are going to be?" Katie asks, pulling out her phone.

"You know?"

"You can see the teachers on the website, I can check for you," she says, already signing into the website.

You say nothing and try to peek at the screen as she searches for the right page.

Michael returns and takes a seat.

"Uh oh," Katie says, looking at her phone strangely.

"Uh oh? Why uh oh?"

She looks at you with a bitter expression.

"Your language professor... you have Professor Lauda," she tells you.

"Professor Lauda? Why is that uh oh?"

Michael and Katie share a look.

"He's, uh... he's a bit of a perfectionist. Kind of strict. He has thrown students out of his class if they haven't kept up with assignments or he thinks they're just wasting time," Michael tells you.

"Oh, I see. I'm sure it will be fine. I'm taking languages because I want to."

Katie shrugs, "well, your funeral."

You narrow your eyes at her. They were making it out as if he was some demon teacher who worked here. You were sure it would be fine.

"What about my other professor?"

"Professor Barnes? He's alright. Cute. People like him," Katie sighs.

"There we go then. I'll be fine!"

Michael and Katie share a look again. You roll your eyes and ignore them as your food arrives.

You're back at your apartment early, in time for an early night so you can be refreshed for your classes tomorrow.

You weren't worried about what your friends had said. You were sure you could handle what ever this Professor Lauda would throw at you.

You arrive to your literature class early. Professor Barnes is friendly and welcomes you into his class. You take a seat near the front and wait for the other students to arrive.

When everyone has settled, the class starts.

Barnes introduces himself, introduces you the schedule for the term, and spends a bit of time getting to know his class. He makes a joke here and there. He's definitely going to be a favourite yours, you just knew you would enjoy his classes.

He dismisses you all with a gentle smile.

You have some time before your languages class. For some reason a lite bit of dread settles in. You really wanted to do well here, but what if you didn't? Would he actually kick you off the course?

Michael was able to meet up with you as you made your way to your next class. He had just left his class cor the day when he saw you on the way to yours.

"Hey!"

You stop and let him catch up with you.

"On your way to Lauda's class?"

"Yes."

"I think it's very brave of you to take this risk," he says, placing his hand on your shoulder.

You roll your eyes.

"You're over exaggerating! He's just a Professor!"

"Y/N, there are only two professors in this university that scare me, and Lauda is one of them."

"Who's the other?"

"Professor Kreizler, but you're not taking his class, so you don't have to worry about him."

You chuckle softly.

"I'll be fine. I have to go! See you later."

Michael watches you go.

You arrive to the class just in time. The class isn't as full as the other class. Just a few students scattered about. Absolutely no one was sitting on the front row. The professor has his back to the class as he organised papers on his desk.

You headed to the front and sat down, taking out the things you would need.

The professor turned around.

Never has anyone made such an impact on you before just from their presence. Your mind ceases functioning as you get a good look at your Professor.

Soft brown curly hair, dark brown eyes, not too tall, not too short, toned, but not buff. Gosh, did he look good in that turtleneck sweater.

His eyes scan the students. The room was only about half full, not that he cared much. He knew he had a reputation in the university. People couldn't deal with him, but it didn't matter because he wouldn't be able to deal with them either.

His eyes land on the only student brave enough to sit up front. He would be able to see you working from there, but that wasn't what made him stop to look at you. No, it was the fact you were probably the best looking person to ever walk into his classroom.

He flickered his gaze away before it could be read into too much by anyone.

You hadn't seemed to notice he was staring.

Still, he was a professional and he would remain so. Nothing wrong with having good looking students in a class.

"Hallo, willkommen. I am Professor Lauda, your languages teacher. This class is for German. Please, if you had no intention of being here, leave now."

No one shifts.

"Very well then. I have written the schedule for the term on the board, copy it down if you must, I will not be repeating it after today."

You note it down, using all your will power not to just look at your Professor.

"I must ask, does anyone here have any basic knowledge of German?" He asks, eyes scanning the class.

A few hands go up. Better than his last class where barely anyone had any former knowledge. Your hand is up too.

"Gut. You," he nods at you, "introduce yourself auf Deutsch."

You hesitate for a second, not expecting he would pick you. Though, you are sat up front. You're an easy target.

"Hallo, ich bin Y/N."

Y/N. Wunderbar. He had your name. He moves onto the next student who put their hand up, and then the next. You were none the wiser to his little trick of just wanting to know who you were.

"Now, listen here," he says, gaining everyone's attention after introductions, "if you so as waste my time, you are off this course. I only want students who mean to learn. If you fail my tests, you can walk tight out. If you fail to hand in an essay, you can leave."

He scans the faces of his students.

"Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir!" The class all spoke together.

"Gut. Now, pay attention."

He begins the introduction for the course. Though you are paying attention, you're slightly distracted by his voice. English or German, you could listen to him talk all day.

You write down notes as he speaks, not wanting to miss anything. You almost miss some details because you just wanted to sit and listen to him talk.

Class is over before you know it. Time had passed far too quickly for your liking.

"Dismissed. Don't be late."

Everyone gathers their things before they go. You close your notebook and glances up at your professor. He once again has his back to the class.

"Danke, herr Lauda."

Lauda glances over his shoulder to see you standing there. He looks you up and down quickly with his dark eyes. He turns back around without saying anything.

You leave, feeling a little awkward.

Michael is waiting outside for you.

"How was class?" He asks, falling into step with you.

"Not that bad. Professor Lauda isn't that bad!"

"You're lying! He's so intimidating!" Michael exclaims.

"He's fine. Maybe I should I meet this Professor Kreizler for reference."

"He's intimidating too."

"Do you actually like any Professors here?" You ask.

"....not really!"

You chuckle softly and keep on walking. Michael has to jog a little as you pick up the pace.

"I dare you! Though he might be OK if his assistant is there."

"His assistant?" You look at him curiously.

"Yeah, pretty sure they're together."

"Hmm. Cute."

"If you say so, Y/N. Right, I have to leave, there's a computer with my name on it," he grins.

"Yeah, whatever. See you!" You laugh as he walks away.

You head back to your apartment, done for the day. You would go over your notes and have some dinner before turning in for the night.

Tomorrow was another day, and you were eager to return to your languages class.

@lieutenantn @scuttle-buttle @rumblelibrary @zemosimp05 @hb8301 @celtic-witch-bitch @somethingthatsaysbubbles @lorna-d-m @anteroom-of-death @belle82devart @vverliebt @alltimebandsexual666 @charistory @mischief-siriusly-managed @thatoneartgalsstuff @mssennimatilda

#niki lauda au #niki lauda x reader #au #daniel brühl x reader #Daniel Brühl au

[bbugyu]

can i kiss you yet? + hong joshua

a mutual friend always made a great excuse to see you, but he definitely wanted more.

wc.2.4k | joshua x gn!reader, fluff, first snow au, foreigners in korea squad up, josh is a tutor u are an ambiguous worker everything is vague shhh, there are really no warning this is just fluff, oh drinking, but only the once, miss park chaeyoung please text me back

haha..... i am....... im not........... im in my joshie feels ok do not talk to me about it im embarrassed. thanks @babiemingoo for ruining my life by saying joshua would fall in love with me, and i quote, "no cap."

~

you spent a lot of time with joshua. by proxy, mostly, but you enjoyed his company nonetheless. your best friend called him her brother - they weren't related by blood, but by circumstance, having separately moved to korea at an old enough age to take care of themselves but young enough to still need the support of someone going through something similar. they were neighbors, and rosie had no way of stopping him from barging through her front door at all hours of the day. she always yelled at him to let her have some privacy. he insisted that if she was doing something that required privacy, then she should tell him beforehand. you always just laughed from your spot on the couch.

joshua would smile and put up a hand when he pretended to notice you for the first time, as though you weren't the express reason he had made an excuse to show up. "hi, y/n."

you would smile back and wiggle your fingers at him. "hi, josh."

this happened almost every time you came over to rosie's apartment, and while you never intended to see him, you would be lying if you said it wasn't a lovely benefit.

she rolled her eyes. "don't you have a job?"

"that's the great thing about being an online tutor," joshua said, making himself comfortable on the opposite end of the couch from you. "flexible scheduling."

you realized you had never asked him about his work. "what do you tutor?"

he looked at you, and you thought you saw a flash of nervousness in his eyes before he grinned. "english. and korean. and algebra. and calculus, sometimes."

"that's, like," you paused, your head knocking to one side. "impressive?"

"is it?" he laughed. "i just voice chat with high school students in sweats."

you shrugged. "i'm bad at math and i'm pretty sure i'd be bad at teaching, so anything like that is impressive to me."

he nodded, the corner of his mouth quirked upwards. it was hard for him to believe that you could be bad at anything, but he figured math was an okay thing to be lacking in. "noted."

rosie coughed loudly, making you both direct your attention to where she was leaning against the kitchen counter. "if you guys are done, i would love someone's help deciding what kind of pizza to get."

when you left hours later, rosie asked joshua why he even came over, trying to imply that he was taking too long to admit he liked you.

he pouted out his lips and shook his head. "no reason. i just heard you talking to someone and wanted to make sure you're not inviting over weirdos."

she gave him a sideways glare, knowing that if that were the truth, he would have come over when mingyu showed up the day before. or wonwoo last week. or any of her other friends that frequented her studio apartment. but conveniently, he only ever barged in when it was you, and she had a suspicion that it was because he had learned to recognize your laugh through the thin walls.

the first time you ever met joshua, it was at a bar. you and some work friends had agreed to get drinks together, and when your coworker-turned-bestie got a call from her neighbor saying she got a package, you nudged her.

"is he your oppa, like, just a guy, or like a boyfriend?"

she squinted at you, registering your language switch "ew! oh my god, he's just a guy. he's like a brother."

you heard an indignant noise over the line at her exclamation, and you giggled as you guided the straw in your cocktail to your lips.

"am i lying, joshua?" rosie said, rolling her eyes. "are you not like my brother?"

"joshua?" your eyebrows quirked up, realizing he had an english name, and only processing after the fact that he also understood her. "is he like us?"

"foreign?" rosie asked, looking at you. "yeah, he's from la."

you looked at her expectantly. "well, is joshua free tonight?"

she laughed at you, but redirected the question over the phone anyways, then promptly invited him out to join you at the bar, and he said he could be there in 45 minutes. he arrived with 6 minutes to spare (not that you were watching the clock, but you totally were), and rosie waved him down to join your table, quickly introducing him to the coworkers you had deemed fun enough to hang out with.

"and this is y/n," she said, grabbing your arm. she leaned over to joshua, pretending to whisper. "the other foreigner."

you laughed and shook his hand, saying it was nice to meet him. he smiled back, warmly, and returned the sentiment. he was korean, you realized, despite being from america, and he was incredibly handsome. like, absurdly so, in a way that felt impossible in reality, yet here he was, gaze flickering over your face as you brought your (new) drink to your lips, and the liquid almost caught in your throat when you saw an entire galaxy twinkling in his eyes. you blinked when he went to get a drink, thinking you must be drunker than you thought to have mistaken the reflection of the fairy lights that littered the bar as galaxies, but for some reason, your initial impression seemed to suit him more.

months later, you went to rosie's apartment just to drop off some food - you were teaching yourself how to make korean side dishes, and she volunteered to be your auxiliary food tester if you made too much, which, big surprise, you absolutely did. she made fun of your cooler bag and your big puffy jacket, saying you reminded her of the grandma down the hall, and you laughed heartily as you made your way to her kitchen.

she had an essay to write, so you didn't stick around. shortly after you announced your leave and exited to the hall, the next door opened.

"oh," joshua said, hand still gripping the handle of his front door as he made surprised eye contact with you. "you're leaving already?"

you pursed your lips to hide a smile, wrapping your scarf around your neck. "already?"

"you usually, um," he paused, his hand going to the back of his neck, the other pushing into the pocket of his jeans. "you're usually around for a few hours."

you giggled. "i was just dropping off some food, rosie has an essay to write."

he puffed out a cheek and nodded slowly as he let it deflate. "i guess i shouldn't bother her, then."

you watched him avoid your gaze, then peeked slyly past him into his apartment. you had never been, but it looked neat. neutral. comforting. it seemed like him.

the jig was up, joshua thought, studying your eyes briefly. you clearly knew he only ever barged into his neighbor's apartment because you were there. he had obviously just given it away, but maybe you had always known, and you had just let him think he was convincing when he said he had no idea you were over. but maybe he was okay with that, because you never complained. and maybe that meant you liked seeing him, too.

"are you busy?" he asked suddenly. "i don't mean to keep you, but-"

you shook your head quickly. "i don't have plans."

"uh," he turned to his apartment before looking back at you briefly. "let me grab a jacket, i'll walk you home."

you couldn't help but smile. "okay."

joshua made sure he was quick to get his winter coat and a scarf, but instinctively adjusted his bangs in a mirror and checked his breath. he silently scolded himself for making this out to be something that it wasn't - he was walking you home, not taking you out. but he hoped he would work up the nerve to ask before the end of the walk.

"ready?" you asked, pushing off the wall you were leaning against as you waited.

he smiled at you, silently hoping he was. "yeah, let's go. it's gonna start getting dark soon."

when the two of you exited the apartment building, hands shoved into pockets, joshua commented that it felt like it was gonna snow.

"i think the forecast said tomorrow," you mused, looking up at the overcast sky.

he stared at you as you walked beside him, your lips curved upward in a vague smile as you thought about how much you liked the snow, and when you looked over and caught his gaze, he redirected his eyes just a little too late, then laughed at his own behavior. "sorry, you looked really cute just then."

you couldn't help but smile, nuzzling down into your scarf to hide it. "as opposed to normally, when i don't."

"not what i said," he defended immediately. "i think you always look cute."

you giggled into your scarf, hoping he couldn't see how flustered you felt. "thank you. i think you always look cute, too."

you caught a small smile sneak onto his face as he looked down at his shoes. "thanks."

joshua had never once seemed shy to you. a little hesitant, maybe, when you had first met him, but he exuded confidence. you got the impression that he knew himself better than anyone, and he was happy to express himself genuinely around people that accepted him. he was a bit of a smooth talker, you thought. he had a way of saying exactly what people wanted to hear, whether it was true or not. but today, now, he seemed genuinely reserved. quieter. like he wasn't quite sure what to say to you as you walked side by side on the sidewalk, headed to your apartment.

"what kind of food did you bring to roseanne?" he asked, trying to fill the quiet.

"standard fare," you said, smiling at how he used her full name. "kimchi, seasoned beansprouts, sweet potatoes, fishcakes."

"oh, korean?" he asked, looking at you. "i didn't know you cooked like that."

your lip quirked into a smile at the reaction. "i'm practicing. gotta please a korean husband if i wanna get a permanent visa, y'know."

"right," he said, nodding at your joking tone. "a korean husband."

you blinked, eyes focusing on something in the air, then looked up. "oh my god, is it snowing?"

joshua tore his gaze from you, looking around at the flakes that were gently falling from the sky. "i told you it was gonna snow."

"but the forecast said tomorrow!" you laughed, pulling a hand out of your pocket to try to catch some flakes. "has it snowed yet since new year?"

his heart fluttered lightly as he watched you shove your hand back into your pocket. "no, not yet."

you looked over at him and giggled at how much snow had gathered on his dark hair. "oh, jeez, it's starting to come down." you reached out to him, brushing some flakes off his bangs, and he hoped you thought his ears were just red from the cold. "if we don't hurry, you're not gonna be able to walk home."

that wouldn't be the end of the world, joshua thought. maybe if the snow fell heavy enough, you would tell him to sleep on your couch instead of trekking home. maybe the two of you could chat, alone, just enjoying company until too late in the night. and maybe your heating would go out again, like you often complained about, and maybe the two of you could wind up under the same blanket as you got sleepier.

"do you know that belief?" he asked, glancing at you as you walked. "what koreans say about first snow?"

you looked over to him. "no," you said shortly, switching to korean. "what is it?"

he laughed, but continued in english. "they say that if you're with someone during the first snow of the year, you'll stay together for a long time."

you stopped in your tracks, and he only made it two steps in front of you before he turned, looking at you questioningly. "together?"

he gave a short affirmation, blinking and looking away as he shifted his stance. "yeah, like-" he paused. "supposedly, if you confess during the first snow, it's good luck. or something like that."

you stared at him, studying his eyes as he avoided your gaze, a tiny smile creeping across your face. "josh."

he looked at you, eyebrows quirked. "w'sup?"

you giggled. "are you talking about us right now?"

"oh, are you confessing to me?" he asked, eyes wide and making you laugh as he slowly closed the short distance between you. "confessing during the first snow, wow. you must really like me. y'know, i always kind of thought you had a crush on me."

you rolled your eyes. "yet it took you four months to mention it?"

his nose scrunched up as he grimaced apologetically. "i'm sorry for making you wait," he said, quietly and in korean, close enough that you felt his breath on your skin. you just shook your head at him.

"i made you wait, too."

he looked between your eyes, and you couldn't help but feel like the snow was melting around you from his warm you felt. "can i kiss you yet?"

you let out a breathy giggle, enjoying the way his eyes creased as he smiled at you. "of course you can."

this moment, joshua realized, was one that he had imagined a million times in his head. in a million different scenarios throughout the last four months, he had imagined how incredible it would be to feel your lips against his. and when he finally found himself there, his fingers brushing against your cheek as he pulled you into him, the first snow of the year falling around you, he realized he had imagined it all wrong. because despite thinking that you definitely had the most beautiful lips that he could ever press his to, he had not accounted for the fact that you were smiling, and he was too, and that made them the sweetest. the most fun. the most exciting.

and he hoped you would let him keep kissing you for a long time.

#im AJABWJBSJABSHAN this is HDHSHCBDNANJSBAJZ i feel so HCBSJXNSHDHDJBS #ok tags #caratwritersclub #joshua scenarios #joshua imagines #joshua fluff #joshua hong imagines #joshua hong scenarios #joshua hong fluff #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff #josh #i wrote dis #the way a kink ship given to an asexual was enogh to make said asexual fall in love with someone #this is so sad alexa play baby don't stop #also alexa play lingerie by lizzo #at the same time #ok im gonna go lay down again ❣️

[cyclesprefectpress]

[image description: a proof of a font of handset type for letterpress printing, displaying every letter, symbol, and special character in the font. it's called "Sixteenth Century Roman," 24 pt., and is a rough-edged serif font with a deliberately worn look. end description.]

hello hello i am return from a deep dive into several reference materials that assumed a little bit more knowledge about how Medieval Latin works than i actually have, but, it was all exTREMEly inch resting to me. i am absolutely not a historian but here we are, a speedrun of my pinballing around trying to ensure that I know what the fuck im storing in my type corridor:

so 16th Cent. Roman, i already knew, was a font Paul Duensing designed based on this incomplete set of old Italian punches he acquired (punches, the first step of old school typecasting, where you carve the relief letter shape into the end of a stick of steel, and you uuuh punch that into the copper matrix, which is then the negative mould-shape you use to cast multiple copies of the lead sorts with hot metal; surviving punches are precious artifacts not the least because they are. they’re hand-carved!! often by the type designer themselves. historical and also wildly cool craftsmanship). these punches were all beat up and probably water damaged, fucky and rough-edged, so he re-did and filled in the gaps in the alphabet with similarly styled letters of his own. very cool. an extremely nerdy lil passion project of a typecaster in the 1960s, very typical of type people. we all find a Thing to obsess over, and sometimes it's reviving an incomplete set of punches from the 1500s that you found in, idk, it's usually a bucket in somebody's basement.

anyway it's got a bunch of ligatures and the long s, sure sure sure, but WHAT are all these gibberish characters with tildas and lines thru the stems of ps and qs and such—

Duensing's full font is in Mac McGrew's specimen book, great, i have that, except McGrew's book has complete proofs and a little bit of history for each font but doesn't always cover what each symbol in a unique alphabet is for, and i knew just enough about Latin to guess that they were abbreviations but not what each of them stood for. a little bit of searching got me this far, which is to say, "Abbreviation in Medieval Latin Paleography," a translation of an Italian essay on the subject from 1929. It is prefaced by the translators with gems like: "Take a foreign language, write it in an unfamiliar script, abbreviating every third word, and you have the compound puzzle that is the medieval Latin manuscript." Scribes writing in medieval Latin just tossed out letters they didn't care to deal with, constantly, and had stand-in special characters and abbreviations for syllables/words/particles and there were intuitive rules but way too many variations in time and place and person to make a reasonably-sized, static lexicon. amazing. hope all u paleographers are having fun over there.

the essay has a great big glossary of truncations and abbreviations and so on which clearly cover most of the figures in Duensing's font:

[image description: screenshots of the essay, with various symbols and the Latin syllables they abbreviated. an m with a bar over it, ex., stood in for men or mun. end description.]

ok! BUT this q with a little swoop off the end kept bugging me!! for all these dead-use symbols this essay is using handwritten samples, obviously, and there's clearly variation in execution and also typographers take liberties, and i just thought, sure my piece of type looks a lot like the quod here but it does link the staff to the swoop where the handwritten sample doesn't, and it could just as well be a fanciful ligature for qn which apparently can stand in for quando, and i have no idea which is a more common-use syllable likely to be cast in the font if you're only going to pick your top 14, and i just like to be sure about things.

SO. i went to double-check with Johnson’s Typographia. Johnson made like a thousand pages of printing manuals set in tiny tiny type in the 1820s which are rad as hell and tell you all sorts of things about how to run a shop and build your own press and cast type and going rates for work and employment and also, the alphabets/type case layout for whatever language or symbol set you might have to set type in, when handsetting type was mostly the only way to get stuff printed—English, Arabic, Chinese, Hebrew, musical notation, astronomical signs, aaaand it’s got a section for "Marks & characters used in the Domesday Book & other ancient records.”

[image description: a photo of a page of the manual, with similar but not always identical symbols for abbreviated use. many of these abbreviations are described as "a Domesday contraction." end description.]

and WHAT is a Domesday contraction, WELL, it's a contraction specifically from/prevalent in the Domesday book, a deeply boring and historically important tome about property distribution in England. It’s literally a survey. who owned what, in 1086. presumably mind-numbing. enormous, handwritten in Medieval Latin, EXTREMELY cool, go look at some images of it at least, very important to historians, economists, linguists, and a complete pain in the ass to set in type when that technology became available, having to cast any significant proportion of these variant characters in an alphabet. Johnson says, (in 1824) “It is an improvement of latter years only*, to have type cast to resemble the abbreviations used in the more ancient manuscripts; they being formerly rudely imitated, either from a common fount, or else were cut in wood for the purposes of any particular work.” wow that sucks. but in 1773 the government really wanted to be able to reproduce the Domesday Book in type, so a couple people tried to cut a set of punches for Domesday abbreviations and Joseph Jackson got it done and it only took 10 years to print an edited version of the manuscript. and then apparently all the type was destroyed in a fire in 1808. WOW that sucks.

but the point is, Johnson has a great big glossary of characters as they were translated into type in the making of the printed Domesday Book, and the Domesday punches were used or refrenced in the printing of other medieval latin works, which consequences a degree of standardization in the abbreviations used in those versions of the text that handwritten manuscripts never had or needed.

notably the Domesday quod looks even more different from my piece of type here which was pretty annoying, so what are the chances this thing is a quando, and anyway that's when my sister texted me back with better computer skills and a different search engine and found me a perfect match on the first try. it’s a quod. this National Diet Library digital exhibition has several different sample fonts, both black letter and roman, with quite consistent letter forms, if not choices about which abbreviations to bother casting.

*I don’t……exactly know what he means by this, since Gutenberg and contemporaries absolutely did cast many Medieval Latin abbreviations for their fonts nearly 400 years before this. His dismissal of “from a common fount” might be fair, since i think what he means by it is that you’d have a generic set of abbreviation characters which you would have to use in conjunction with whatever font was the main body of your text, and it’s messy to mix things that weren’t designed specifically to match. he may just mean that it’s new for his contemporary foundries to be casting all these expanded alphabets of abbreviations; Gutenberg didn’t have foundries to buy from and made his own type. he could include as many characters as he had the patience for. maybe Johnson is just a guy from the 1800s that didn’t have the internet and i shouldn’t jump down his throat for not knowing something. idk!! i have homework.

anyway that was my Friday!! feel free to correct me and/or suggest further reading if early typecasting is your Thing or. again. you just have better googling than me.

#letterpress #letterpress printing #handset type #lead type #typography #long post #:(( sorry #omitted: Johnson's scathing opinions on Almanacks and the people who read them #and ask you to typeset them #'''''the credulity of the vulgar''''''' alRIGHT bud #i guess if he was willing to set that whole paragraph in 8 pt. #or pay for it #it was at least an opinion he believed in very strongly.

[mystonyfeelingsss]

Hi i dont know if you know this but there was a twitter user doomtony who spread a lot of hate against sabre and then their followers started to bring it up to her here and forced her to deactivate. They also dragged sineala into it and harassed some other fic writers too. Please report their account for harassment so we can hopefully shut them down and prevent them from doing this to anyone else

In the past few years, for personal reasons I’ve been less active than usual in the fandom. I just read my daily amount of fics, lurking or buying some art and that’s it. I rarely come to tumblr and time to time I reblog something. I tried to join the PoTS Discord server but because English is not my native language, sometimes I feel overwhelmed to interact with people, even online (funny enough, I live in UK and I have to talk in English everyday) so I left it behind. This to say that I am a little bit out of the fandom dynamics. 

That said, I am SICK of these situations. Sabre is not the first one harassed and probably she is not the last. I interacted with her just a couple of times and I found her a kind person, with a HUGE writing talent.  I noticed, especially on Twitter, that young people are "rioting” accusing older fandom members to be predators, that they shouldn’t be active in fandom, that they are creeps and an insane amount of bullshit. Sometimes going deeper, targeting specific individuals that most of the times ends up forcing the “targets” deactivating their SM accounts and in worst cases, forcing them deleting their work. I AM SICK OF ALL OF THIS. Truly, deeply, sincerely sick.  I am 37 years old, with a baggage of anxiety, loneliness and a bunch of other issues. I live far away from my family, my friends, my native culture.  What I have is reading Stevetony fan fiction, fan arts and this bubble of happiness and joy that I live on my own and in my own terms. Silently, not harassing anyone, minding my own business. I am sick of this bunch of toddlers telling me I am a creep because at my age I am in a fandom or I enjoy doing nerdy stuff. I am SICK. I am sick that a bunch of FAKE WOKE kids tell me or my peers what we have to do, what we have to write, what we have to draw, what we have to read, just because we are 20+ years old. 

I am sick of this BIGOTRY. 

Pedophiles, predators, creeps exist. We all know that. But I can assure you that they are not the one who draw, read or write a Stevetony fic about a 17 years old and a 20 something years old. GROW UP, put down your damn smartphone and live a REAL life. You declare yourself woke, but you are the worst kind of AGEISTS AND MISOGYNISTS. Use your brain to analyse, research, THINK instead to parroting a bunch of slogan without rationalise first. THINK ABOUT THE CONSEQUENCES of your hatred, bigotry, venom. You don’t fucking know who there is behind an account, you don’t know which kind of struggle every single PERSON behind a nickname is facing. Don’t judge, think. Don’t be entitled. Be human.  If you don’t like a fan fiction or an art, PASS ON. Just because you have a device internet equipped DOESN’T ALLOW YOU TO SPIT VENOM on other people work or life. Spend and focus your energy where it is ACTUALLY needed, out of your aesthetically pleasant rooms, out there in the real life. 

Life it is not only black and white, life is full of greys. Writing long ass essays on Twitter doesn’t necessarly make you intellectuals, makes you fools if you don’t know what you are talking about. Life is already full of shit, REAL life is. Leave people alone and mind your fucking business. 

Rant is done. I am done.

Thank you anon for the signal boost.

#anon #ask #fan fictions #art #fandom #rant #sabrecmc #sick of this bullshit #no seriously #I AM TIRED #Anonymous

[novelconcepts]

Hi novelconcepts :)

So. As a self taught artist (painter?) I was so excited and grateful to read your answer to the anon who was talking about fanfiction. I mean. I was never taught how to draw. I've always painted. Always doodled. Always tried new things. I look at what artists do, even here, and i copy some technique. I bend their amazing skills into something i can use. This is how artists been getting through life even like 500 years ago. Am i good? Dunno. Are there better artists? 100%. Am i excited that people like the things i do? Absolutely. Same with fanfics. I... write. English is not my first language and i am at fault for getting too excited with some styles and try and make them work for myself. And i also read fanfiction. Yours, first and formost, but also so many other great authors, young and excited and honestly? Completely amazing.

I'm not sure what anon was getting at, and i'm rambling, but i just wanted to say thank you. It's such a beautiful thing to encourage art. Any type of art. It's like every time you answer this kind of ask, i'm feeling myself, cynical as i am, regaining trust in humanity.

Personally, i don't think there are "lazy" artists. Also, i think this particular fandom is full of such a buzzing enthusiasm, i don't really know how there can be someone out there trying to extinguish this light :)

So sorry for making this a 100 page essay. It was supposed to be a simple thank you ❤

I absolutely agree that “lazy” and “artist” don’t really go hand in hand. We learn by doing, and often by doing things badly--and that’s fantastic. And things that feel great now might read really clunkily in 10 years; I tend not to go back and read stuff I wrote when I was 20-22 for that exact reason. We learn by doing, and we get better by ingesting other people’s work, and we...get better. And even if we don’t, having fun is kind of the name of the game. Which is something I’ve been really needing to remind myself lately.

I’m really glad that answer resonated. And I really hope you keep making art. It’s always such a treat to see. 

#ask #kind writing words #always always in the camp of 'make art' #experiment! test out weird prose choices and new mediums #this is how the best shit gets made man #love-jesus-but-i-drink-a-little

[mallowstep]

I’m thinking about writing a short OC piece about Windclan and I’d love to see your notes about its culture and the hymns you’ve written so far, everything you’ve done for Windclan appreciation month has really inspired me :)

hello anon!

alright, first things first: please send me ur piece when ur done if you're comfortable doing so! i will publish it from you, or if you don't want to be associated with it in Any Way, i will also just read it and add it to the queue with no indication why it's there. or if you don't want me to share it at all, i'd still like to read it.

as for your ask,

hymns?

i'm working on it. however, underneath the read more, i'll include a few snippets for u.

culture

alright, i'm just going to post links with some commentary as i go. feel free to ask any more questions you have.

windclan (search) | windclan (tag) | wcam tag | five clans (narrative essays)

i would link the elders den, but there's no windclan stories in there ATM.

moving on, i'm just going to go through posts in reverse chronological order.

tallstar taking a mate admittedly, this is more about cats and sexuality than windclan, but i provide the commentary that windclan...has a particular view on sexuality and fluidity. one thing i haven't explored but should is the role visiting cats have in windclan.

whoops that's a code word, my plug for solacefruit has been activated. okay, as you may be aware, based on the fact that i have a whole tag for it, i'm obsessed with solacefruit. now, i love everything they do, but i would like to point you particularly to "make a mighty sound" for a fantastic exploration of this idea.

i don't want to spoil anything, but i do think windclan, and maybe cats as a whole, but windclan has a certain view towards relationships that very much breaks them into pieces. i'm a "love is a verb" person, so the idea that you can grow to love someone romantically by going through the actions of love makes sense. not to say you will, but you can.

(to be clear i'm not out advocating for arranged marriages just saying that they can work, they're not destined to be bad, and there's a difference between forced marriage and arranged marriage.)

anyway.

this was a lot of words to say, cats do not have a human (and particularly, western/american) understanding of relationships, which makes analyzing them in those terms difficult.

early hymn talk i'll probably say more below, but it is here.

general ibtwicm notes might get you into the headspace for some of my choices in ibtwicm.

i don't have a ton to say because this pretty much all holds, but uh, yeah.

poetry and language this isn't strictly about windclan, but it does explain some of what i think about when writing hymns.

obviously, i'm writing english translations, but these general themes are what i have in mind. it's also part of why i say i don't think i'll ever release a "full hymnal" for windclan, because i don't know if my weak worldbuilding heart could take it if i only had translations.

names part two very much not about windclan, but just some thoughts on names. as i've said before, i support all names and worldbuilding equally, but if you want my thoughts on names, go buckwild.

clan culture fic rec list just stuff i think does a good job, if you want other sources of inspiration.

general clan culture notes this is really old, but it mostly holds.

i've obviously expanded a lot on windclan since i wrote it, so shrug? idk man.

alright, i'm going to move into hymn discussion below the cut, but best of luck! and i hope u have a good time. it makes my brain shut down to read that i inspired you, straight up got brain juice pouring out of my ears, but i'm really, really happy to hear that.

windclan holds a special place in my heart. (i know my oc avatar is from skyclan shhh it's because of the backstory he sees ghosts.) but i grew up in this super sporty household as a lil asthmatic klutz, and running was a sport i couldn't mess up, so of course windclan appealed to me.

they're actually third on my list of favorite clans, but they. it's a special place in my heart that they hold, especially after reading dawn of the clans and moth flight's vision, where i got an asthmatic cat and an adhd cat, both in windclan.

god i should reread dotc it's good.

alright, here's the deal on hymns: i am not going to fight to get duets to post correctly. there's a 0% chance i can in tumblr's wonky ass new editor with no markdown, not to mention how difficult it would have been in the old editor. so i'm going to talk a lil about what i've got, and post some stanzas that i think don't get explored a lot in ibtwicm.

we're discussing these in the order that they go in. a reminder that these are all sections of one epic poem. that said, i don't know where the gaps are. like, i don't know what's between these, if that makes sense.

the wind

the wind, the very first hymn. this is an ode to, well, windclan. it's a song about everything that makes them them. it's filled with poetry about the wind, about the seasons, and it's just...well, it's a bit of a genesis, in a way.

The wind — like the rain, like the river — calls the name of each star in its breath. The wind — like the earth, like the stone — anchors us to our home. The wind — like the sun, like the sky — is knowable only by name.

i wanted to share this stanza because the last line doesn't show up in ibtwicm (at least so far, i cut the reference), and it really, really, makes a difference imo.

anyway, windclan is basically tying the wind in with every other fundamental part of their life here.

they are the wind, and that's that.

the hare

okay, this one has a line that comes up a lot in ch1, but i already talked about that, so instead, i'm going to talk about this stanza

Speak of the earth and the dens, and you will be answered: By the call of the howling gales, the open earth singing in response. But speak of that which grows above, of the grass and field, And you will be answered by the softness of the buds and the roots.

okay, we get deadfoot thinking about this when he's talking to yellowfang.

i like this stanza because it really tells us what the hare is about. now, hares are not something windclan catches. hares are huge, y'all, there's no way they take one down. i take liberties with ecology, but not that many.

(i.e., a team of cats definitely could take one down, but i know too much, and would prefer letting team hunting stay a plot thing, and not fundamentally alter the environment in the way it would.)

now anyway, all of these hymns come from the time of the tunnelers. and the point of this is, even though the work of tunnelers and moor runners is disconnected, they fundamentally affect each other.

a moor runner must trust the hollows of the earth beneath them won't collapse, and a tunneler must trust that the prey they chase up will be caught.

it's all very symbiotic and is, well, in a way, a love poem. plus i really like the line "the open earth singing in response"

of the warrens

so this has one line, one you might not even know is a hymn, in ch1, but i'll share the whole stanza.

And as for the subject of fallow fields: Fallowed fields make for hungry prey, Yet hungry prey makes desperate rabbits, Who leap into our claws.

and ig my big point is, the hymns are a cultural artifact. just like many of the rules in the old testament have to do with hygiene things being codified into religion, this whole hymn is about hunting advice.

the moon on the river

okay, out of all the hymns, this is the most complete, and because ashfoot and deadfoot sing it together, and deadfoot discusses it, i only have one stanza to share.

Under the coldness, you shine back at me, And I do everything to keep the clouds from threatening you.

now, this poem is about love, grief, and being separated. it's a particular kind of grief, and windclan discourages grief, so this is one of only a few ways to really, fully express it.

and this section, in particular, is about love in times of hardship.

i don't have. a lot to say here. but the way hardship changes how you love someone can be particular and intense.

(temporarily, this happens sometime before "Spare for my chosen few / All I have is given towards the distant ground.")

the gorse in the wind

oh shit! i have so fucking much to say okay first.

the series title does not come from this hymn.

second, this is a challenging hymn okay. fuck. i have so much to say. where to start so! moors are actually relatively wet. think british countryside, not, like, a cool desert.

this is something i always knew? i read the secret garden a lot as a kid. but. i've seen stuff about moors being dry, and it's just one of those things that really...starts to eat under your skin. anyway.

okay, so. gorse is a dry plant. it does not like rain. it grows in sandy soil, etc etc, and yet. aside from everything we know about gorse and warriors, it also grows in this moor. because i say so.

okay, so. so so so. the lines quotes here are really deceptive, and i bet no one understood why, and that makes me just a little sad, but i couldn't find a good way to explain it in text, so uh, yeah, anyway. there's an exchange between ashfoot and deadfoot: "THE GORSE: You called me the heather and I grew stronger. / THE WIND: I called you the heather and brought rain for you to grow."

so...so do you see? do you see the point? it's about communication, needs, challenging each other. fadskj;l i love this. okay, so. the point is that heather is fragile, soft, pretty, and gorse is the opposite. the part of the wind is trying to be kind and complimentary, but the gorse is saying, fuck that, you are not being kind to me by undercutting my strength.

anyway, this passage is sung by the gorse:

In what good company have I set down roots, That even through snow fall I flower. You called me the heather and yet I've weathered, Far more than your sweet-named love.

so uh, yeah, this adds context. gorse! gorse is a hardy plant that continues to flower basically all season round. it's cool. it's cool. gorse is super cool. fuuuck y'all it's such a small thing and i've contained talking about it until now, but now it's too much. the floodgates are open, and i thought about this small detail too much.

okay. deep breath. gorse is a really easy plant to grow, but it's still adapted for dry environments. so the "even through snow fall I flower" part is a little tongue in cheek: gorse itself will flower in the cold, but snow is a type of precipitation, which as we've covered, is not gorse friendly.

then we have some rhyming and puns in the next line, and finally, "yet I've weathered, / Far more than your sweet-named love." like. yes. love as a form of softness is not necessarily helpful.

i mean, consider the damaging "soft trans boi" problem. same energy.

right. okay. so we've got all that? now if you remember, this is sung when deadfoot thinks ashpaw doesn't respect him, and ashpaw says she'll sing with him if she can sing the gorse, so in essence, she's telling him...not to back off, per se, but that...she is the "hard part" of the relationship. like, okay, i refuse to even bring up gender roles in human relationships, but uh, her point is very much, "i am the gorse, and you are the wind," and it's a very monumental moment.

it's anchored, i believe, in the other scenes, but this is a small thing that matters a lot to me.

like a lot.

okay, now that i've talked about like four lines for the length of this entire post, moving on.

the heather and earth

okay, this is the last hymn i have in concrete terms, and i cut a bit of it from the latest chapter, so yeah. it's also, uh, okay everything i have for it is only a line or two, but i wanted to share this closing line (sung together):

Sing a song of forgiveness, of growing together, and we will make madness, And madness from hence will everything beautiful grow.

and i just like these lines. they got cut, it was initially part of an exchange between ashfoot and deadfoot, but i can't share the part of it they talk about, because i'm reusing it for a later chapter and i'll 100% spoil shit if i try to talk about it.

but these lines? mmm they speak to me.

i don't have a ton to say about them, but i just. i like it.

if we apply the same ecology discussion from the gorse and the wind, we see heather is a plant that grows in acidic, infertile soil, and heath (which is not the same as a heather, but also kind of is) is a defining quality of heathland, which is...i'm not kidding, it's hot discourse about the difference between moorland and heathland.

i'm not getting involved, but my point is, if the gorse in the wind is a hymn about finding a working relationship, about mutual respect, etc., then the heather and earth is a hymn about working well together in a terrible situation.

god.

uh, wow! can you tell i like plants? because while parts of my ecology are dubious (see: everything regarding the rabbits in ch1), the plants part are well thought out. this shit is carefully detailed metaphor.

and that's why i won't be releasing a full hymnal. it's hard to as on top of this as i want to be. i'm not kidding, writing even four lines of a hymn usually takes me about twenty minutes, because i pull up a lot of research about how things work, how they interact with each other, etc., and then there's wordsmithing, cat worldview filter, etc.

but i hope this overview of what i've got is a good insight into my general thoughts. and i will eventually release more and more of the hymns i've got written.

#ask #anon #mine #txt #windclan #wcam #essay #long #warriors #warriors worldbuilding #windclan hymn project #mateo fanboying over solacefruit again