my bioshock headcanons (and canons) pt.1
(should have clarified this, the ages they are all at the time of 1960, or the time they died. so grace, gil, delta, sinclair are not as old as i think they would be by the time bioshock 2 takes place.)
andrew ryan
jewish - belarusian - russian
6'0 · 54 · 1906/01/26
bisexual (heavy f lean) neutral
sander cohen
jewish - american - czech
5'9 · 53 · 1907/07/12
homosexual ally/phobic
brigid tenenbaum
jewish - belarusian - german
5'4 · 32-35 · 192(5-8)/08/08
asexual aromatic lesbian ally
j.s. steinmann
jewish - american - german
6'1 · 49 · 1911/04/30
heteroflexible ally
frank fontaine
american - italian
5'8 · 42 · 1918/03/15
heteroflexible neutral
sofia lamb
british
6'3 · 48 · 1912/09/23
asexual aromatic ally
(deems love stupid)
augustus sinclair, esquire
panamanian - british - cuban
5'6 · 46 · 1914/07/28
pansexual ally
yi suchong
korean
5'6 · 52 · 1908/12/16
homosexual phobic
gilbert (gil) alexander
polish - romanian
6'4 · 36 · 1924/11/05
homosexual ally
grace halloway
brazilian - american
5'8 · 33 · 1927/11/07
heterosexual ally
anna culpepper
argentinian - caribbean
5'5 · 26 · 1933/09/09
heterosexual ally
reggie furey
american - irish
6'3 · 53 · 1905/08/19
heterosexual neutral
jökull (johnny) sigrúnsson
icelandic - finnish
5'9 · 37 · 1923/06/23
bisexual ally
jack
jewish - belarusian - russian - dutch - swiss
6'4 · 4 · 1956/??/??
asexual aromantic ally
mary-catherine (jasmine) jolene
dutch - swiss
5'6 · 30 · 1929/04/30
heteroflexible ally
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Efri thinks she’s found the library.
“Woah,” she says, letting the door swing shut behind her. (Loudly. The doors here are so heavy.) Her voice echoes off the stone walls. She feels like she’s stepped into some story, like an exaggerated version of what a mage’s college would be.
It’s not that she’s never heard of a library before or anything. She understands them, conceptually. But the most books she’s ever seen at once was the small set of shelves in Rorik’s manor, and even that blew her away the first time – all the pretty bindings and close-written words. This is –
The College library is something else. It’s a lot bigger than a set of shelves.
Winding, narrow hallways bend and squiggle around like a set of earthworms trying to squish together to make a solid shape with no gaps, and every single wall is lined with books. Each shelf is like a rainbow of covers and colours. Half the spines are thick as at least two fingers put together and written over with words she can’t read. Efri has to bring Sissel here. She’d lose her mind.
“Woah,” she says again, and steps further in to look at the books on the shelves. All the bindings in blacks and blues and browns. One has the title written down the spine in gold lettering that shines. She brings up a hand to touch it.
“What are you doing?” someone demands. Efri stops. She looks.
It’s a grumpy-looking orc man in a bright yellow tunic, glaring at her much fiercer than seems necessary for the crime of looking at books in a library. He looks like he might be old – his hair’s white enough that his beard’s the same colour as his sharp sticking-out teeth, and he’s wrinkly. Efri wrinkles her nose and tells him, “I’m looking at the books.”
“Wash your hands first,” he barks, turning his much-too-angry glare on Efri’s hovering arms. “You look like the sort of person to have grubby fingers.”
It’s true, but Efri is offended anyway. She wipes her palms hard against her orange wool skirt. (The skirt is grey at the hem from playing in dirty snow. It does not make her any cleaner.)
“Who’re you?” she asks the rude man. “I haven’t met you yet.”
He does not stop scowling. Maybe he’s perpetually angry. Maybe he just has an unfortunate face. But he says, “I’m the Arcaeneum archivist. Urag gro-Shub.”
The Arcaeneum, that’s what the library’s called. Very fancy name. (Sissel will love it. And has Kazari been here yet? They might like it too. She’s pretty sure they can read, though probably not these fiddly little paper books.) “What’s an archivist?”
“I maintain the library.” The archivist Urag gro-Shub might be grumpy and not very nice but at least he didn’t do the thing where he sighed all annoyed at Efri’s question. “I choose when and to whom the books are lent, and I ensure they are not damaged. Hundreds of years have gone into assembling this collection, and it’s going to stay pristine.”
“Is that book hundreds of years old?” Efri asks, pointing to the showy tome with the writing in gold.
Urag barely glances at it, dark eyes flashing in the vague direction of her pointing finger and flashing back again. “No. That’s historical fiction written in 185. That copy was made within these last ten years.”
“You didn’t even look at it,” Efri says.
“Bejewelled Tragedy. Four hundred pages. Horrendously inaccurate. Frankly, it wasn’t worth acquiring in the first place. Feel free to look for yourself.”
Efri will take his word for it.
“This section is for the books that are up for purchase,” he tells her, gesturing. “The worthwhile ones – and the old ones, if those are what you’re looking for – are further in.”
Efri squints down the passages again, their bright lights and cosy winding walls. She can’t tell where this section ends and the next one starts. She feels like if she went any further into the library she’d get lost. She says, “Thanks. I’m Efri, by the way.”
“I know. You’re that kid who showed up.”
“One of,” Efri corrects.
Urag keeps talking, rolling right past like he didn’t hear her. “Don’t know why in the name of all that’s been called holy they let you in. You’d think this would be a step too far, even –” he huffs and snaps his jaw shut, tusks digging into his moustache. He says, “At any rate. You’re here now, and you’re subject to the same rules as everyone else. You treat these books as careful as if they were your own firstborn children, understand? And if there’s something you want to find – or especially take out of the Arcaeneum – you come talk to me.”
Efri nods obediently. What time would it be right now? The lecture Sissel went to was almost two hours, and it’s definitely only been about one. She asks, “Are there any books with pictures?”
She’s not sure if it’s just the shape of his mouth or if he’s sneering. Urag says, “That depends. Are you going to respect the books enough to try to read the words too?”
“That depends,” Efri retorts, nettled. (She gets that he’s protective of the collection, but there’s no need to be rude about it.) “Are your books going to teach me how to read?”
Urag stares.
“You can’t read,” he replies, sounding vaguely offended, as though she, at six years of age, had refused to attend the village school for the express purpose of spiting him four years later.
Efri pulls a book out of the shelf without looking at it, ignoring the way he huffs. There’s nothing embossed on the spine or the cover, but there’s a title scribbled on the first page. “That’s a B,” she says, pointing to the first letter of the first word, and then stops, squinting. Switches her focus to a different word. “That one says off.”
“Of,” Urag corrects over her shoulder.
Efri shrugs. She snaps the book shut and slips it back into its place on the shelf. “I can read a bit,” she says. “I know my letters and that. The books here are just big.”
And given that she’d failed to correctly identify of, even small stories might be a bit beyond her skill level.
Urag is quiet. Efri looks back at him, mostly expecting him to still be looking affronted, as though she’d stolen food out of his mouth and thrown it at a wall – instead he looks oddly, blankly thoughtful.
“We don’t have anything suitable for early readers,” he says, tapping his fingers against his leg. “That might be an oversight.”
Efri really doesn’t think it is. “It’s a big fancy library, right? I think it’s normal to just collect the big fancy books.” All the ones that are hundreds of years old, or about magic or important things, or both.
Urag’s knuckles rap against a buckle on his belt. He says, “No! First misconception. A worthwhile collection archives all the work on its focus possible. The Arcaeneum is a collection of knowledge in every form. Therefore, we have as many books as we can access, on all sorts of topics. Half of them aren’t even good!”
“You sell the bad ones,” Efri says, trying to follow.
“Some of them. If they’re wholly without merit. Mostly I sell duplicates. Or works no-one has ever used. There’s things to be learned from everything – if not now, later. I’ll think on it.”
He looks back at Efri, looking a bit like he might have forgot she was there. “Regardless. Do you need anything, or can I get back to work?”
He’s still all rude and prickly. Efri bristles a bit. “I wasn’t keeping you,” she says, flicking her eyes again over the strange and wandering walls.
Urag sighs again like he’s got any right to be annoyed with her, but then he asks, “Would you like a tour of the Arcaeneum?”
“Do you want to give it?”
“You’ve already distracted me,” he says. Adds less irritably, “And I enjoy a chance to show off the collection. Long as you don’t interrupt me.”
“I’m going to interrupt you,” Efri informs him. She doesn’t like to be told what to do.
She lets him show her the library.
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Who wants to see one of the dumbest purchases I've ever made in my life?
An actual 1881 copy of a book with all the info your average American could possibly want about the recently-assassinated President James Garfield. It was just sitting there at the used bookstore! I didn't even have to fight anyone for it!
As far as I can tell, it includes:
the campaign biography that was written for his presidential election
transcripts of some of his speeches, including the speech to nominate John Sherman at the 1880 Republican Convention, and his inaugural address
a full account of the assassination
recountings of his final moments and the funeral
the autopsy
a history of the Lincoln assassination for some reason
accounts of the world's reaction to the assassination
a list of all the prominent world figures who'd recently been assassinated
a whole lot of eulogies by some people who knew him and probably a bunch who didn't
This gets detailed. There's a full chart of every single round of voting from the 1880 Republican nomination convention.
A short bio of our boy Chet Arthur (with astounding illustrated sideburns).
And lots of illustrations!
As a book, it's not something to sit down and read (or to trust with much historical accuracy as a biography). As a historical object, though, I'm going to get an absurd amount of delight out of this stupid thing.
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Dazai to Odasaku about Akutagawa: "If I'd left him to his own devices, he would've ended up a slave to his own powers until he destroyed himself."
Hey hi what does that mean???
I'm probably way overthinking it but it just reminded me of when I first started my watch of the anime and we get to the opening scene with Akutagawa and Rashoumon (I can't find the exact scene but here's something similar from DA)
He implies he's not attacking with her so much as he's reining her in from devouring everything - and originally I thought, hey, that's a cool premise. It seems like there's something odd about this guy's ability; he's talking about it like it's almost sentient.
But then it didn't really get brought up again so I kind of forgot about it.
And sure maybe all the above line means is that his ability is naturally attuned to violence and he could grow more bloodthirsty, etc - but if that's the case, why bring him into the mafia?
So I started thinking about Dead Apple (which I really need to rewatch...) and how there was this focus on Atsushi as the "antithesis" of special abilities. And I just kind of thought about that because... wouldn't that title go to Dazai...?
But then it's stated that Atsushi's claws can cut through any ability... including Rashoumon (he also has some connection to the Book which absolutely must be related somehow but I'm skipping over that for the purposes of this post). Dazai describes Akutagawa as "a sword without a sheath". Is Atsushi part of the sheath? It would make a degree of sense: after all, we get a sharp reminder in the movie of how imperative it is that Dazai nullifies Chuuya's ability - it is literally needed to keep Corruption in check.
But why such a focus on self-destruction and sheathing... unless there really is something dangerous that needs to be reined in? That needs to be controlled.
I think about the dragon in Dead Apple called the "chaos of all special abilities".
I think about how the tiger and dragon are another representation of yin and yang. I think about how Atsushi and Akutagawa so clearly have that yin-yang dynamic. I think about how Rashoumon very well has the appearance of a hungry snake - or a dragon.
I think about how the focal point of an entire altered timeline was the prevention of Akutagawa from joining the mafia and the taking of his sister. And then I wonder why Akutagawa always seems to factor into Dazai's plans.
I think there's something special about Akutagawa's ability.
I think that something special, whatever it is, is very dangerous - more than we know.
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