there is this idea that crime is caused by poverty. it's so popular that people state it as fact. and i think there might be some truth to it. but honestly, i think it's overstated and the relationship between crime and poverty is a lot more complex than people think.

just anecdotally speaking, it never sat well with me because my personal experience has been that criminals tend to be opportunistic predators not people acting out of desperation. i knew lots of people who shoplifted or robbed people and almost none of them were so desperately impoverished that they needed to resort to crime.

they chose crime because it was easy money. there was nothing preventing them from getting a job. they just didn't want to work a 9 to 5. the bandit lifestyle was just a lot more convenient. let those other suckers work their asses off and then you can just rob them. i knew people who were living comfortable middle class lifestyles from boosting and drug dealing.

and the irony is, this sort of behavior actually impoverished our community in a lot of ways. it seemed to me like the crime came first. when my parents group here this area was really nice. then in the 90s and 00s crime became rampant and the entire community went to shit for a variety of reasons (luckily things have turned around in recent years thanks to some tough-on-crime policies). my own family (which was below the poverty line for most of my childhood) has been stolen from multiple times (including our car one time which really fucked us over). these people weren't robin hoods stealing from the rich and giving to the poor and they also weren't impoverished victims just trying to survive. these people were just straight up predators without a conscience.

I'm back >:) with a fun question this time.

If BW were to take place in the planet of Manas(where MotH takes place), what class of magic would each of the main cast get? Like necromancer, wizard, etc.

And what about if MotH were to take in New Tenesse? Which class would each one get?

Hmm...this is quite difficult to do without breaking too much canon, but I'll try my best.

Albus wouldn't have been ousted as someone to be hated or despised. That being said, he'd definitely become some sort of soldier. Maybe a warrior of Fusfeimyol, most likely specializing in offensive boosting enchantments and other battle spells. Fighting, not to survive, but for the thrill solely. He'd be a Battlemage.

Devlin wouldn't be designing weapons. I actually think he'd let his creativity shine in the way it wants and become a toy maker. Technically, still an artificer, just in a more fantastical and in a profession he enjoys much more.

Faith would become a school teacher in the impoverished nations like Fusfeimyol. She'd probably run into Albus at some point. Actually that's pretty cute now that I think about it lol! The Gladiator and the School Teacher. Adorable.

Now, let's move to the MotH cast! This was a bit trickier so I wrote out their stories in this world.

Zed would be considered weak by most standards for Paladins. However, his heritage would anoint him a great deal of prestige. In this AU where the MotH characters are swapped with BW characters, I would say that Zed would be a son of the Paladin King. But not just any Paladin King, a king who would be assassinated, most likely by the Triad, and force Zed to escape into hiding. If the Triad were to ever catch him, he'd be killed, or worse...this makes Zed a nomadic warrior with no clan or family to call his own. Constantly running, or else he'll suffer the same fate as the rest of his family.

Raze would probably have completely different powers. She might not even be a star captain considering the relationship between New Tennessee and the Landstar. Raze would most likely be one of the founding Paladins, or at least one of their children. She could be a Sister Paladin, or a Knight Sargent, until meeting Magreos. Together they'd most likely try to start a clan and succeed actually. Magreos would be able to vent his violent tendencies in combat as a sort of sharp relief, however that could spell bad news for their relationship moving forward...

Makkaro would be a Knight for sure. While he is smart, he's not technically minded. No, instead he is on the side of justice and fighting for honor and truth. Makkaro, being as smart as he is however, would make him a target for the Triad to be watchful. They like keeping their fighters dumb. They don't think, they kill. Makkaro doing both is a dangerous combination. Even more so when Makkaro inevitably picks up reading when he falls in love with the Paladin King's daughter (Gienne), resulting in him getting captured by the Triad who scramble his mind and make him black out all of it, before sending him back to his family under the guise that he suffered some form of demonic attack and physical trauma which developed in the form of Amnesia. From that point on, Makkaro would be afraid to do any more fighting, in fear of what might happen.

Gienne, as I said would be the Paladin Kings daughter. She might actually be inducted into the Triad, given her position and intelligence, but I think Makkaro would make her see passed that. This of course would lead to Triad interference again, where they would make her hate Makkaro and want nothing to do with such a sniveling coward who can't pick up a sword and doesn't even remember her. After that, she'd be sent back to her blissfully happy life as a princess.

Sorry for how long this all was! You may have noticed how depressing the lives of the MotH characters are on New Tennessee. Surprise surprise, it's not a happy world lol While a lot of clans do enjoy the thrill of hunting monsters and being blissfully ignorant of those in power behind the scenes manipulating everyone, characters with as much importance and personality as these would typically get screwed over. And fast too.

For the snape asks: I and II

I - what do you think was the first spell he ever learned?

I headcanon the first spell he ever learned was a healing spell. It was the healing spell Eileen would use to heal the scrapes on Severus's knees. He instantly picked up on it on her first cast.

During a bad night where Eileen was hurt from Tobias' drunken rage, Severus sneaks Eileen's wand out of her apron to heal her bruises.

II - do you think he went to muggle school before he got his letter to hogwarts or stayed at home?

One of my headcanon is there is a Christian church or convent near Spinner's End. The nuns would run a program where they teach children from impoverished families basic education: read, write, math, etc, along with catechism sessions. Going to the convent might give him an excuse to be away from home for a while, and he'd devour all the books there, including the Latin and Greek texts, which would explain how he'd learn these languages that he would later on incorporate in his spell creation!

I also love the headcanon that Eileen homeschooled Severus because he has too much uncontrolled magic. Academic-inclined Eileen teaching Severus about the technicalities of magic and brewing potions at an early age.

Thank you for the ask! I would also love to know your answers to these questions

Anastasia Steele should Peg Christian Grey.

Fifty Shades of Grey has always interested me in a theoretical sense. Not because its good, and not because it's a fun kind of trashy, but because its framework is fascinating. It's something that my brain has chewed on, a theoretical AU or rewrite that's ticked away in my head from a purely technical interest. It's frustrating, because it's almost so interesting, and I think its worth a look at how that story could be rearranged with very small changes to hopefully lead to Anastasia pegging Christian.

The names of Fifty Shades of Grey are what first got me onto this topic. Anastasia Steele and Christian Grey. Our protagonist's name is both a princess and a strong, durable metal. It is not something I would associate with someone submissive or demure. I picture an Anastasia Steele and from the name alone it feels like a powerful, bold, potentially fiery but equally likely cool and considering sort of person. The combination of royalty in the first name and durability in the last name paint a picture, one that I believe Anastasia never plays into.

Christian Grey is an equally interesting name, in the opposite direction. Christian is one of the most common names in the world. It's worldly, its simple, it evokes a common religion, its workaday. Grey implies faded, it implies neutral, it implies common and something your eyes pass over. Christian Grey, going purely by name, should be someone that comes across as, yes, experienced but also quiet, unassuming, paint by numbers. There might be internal complexity but externality our eyes should glaze over Christian Grey. We should not register him, we should not consider him.

Now, obviously the story wants to play at least partially into irony. Anastasia comes from a family that is somewhere in the middle class, and Christian while he grew up poor rose to become a CEO and lives strongly in that realm. The trouble is that it quickly shifts away from the actual possible power in their names and, as far as I can tell, never really digs into it beyond a superficial level. Interesting framework, disappointing execution.

Now we should consider the story. At its most basic, Fifty Shades of Grey is about a young inexperienced girl meeting an intimidating but attractive man, and him immediately taking an interest in her. They then become entangled, with Christian immediately wanting to apply a contract as the means of negotiating their relationship. They have some scenes of romance, feelings grow stronger, but Anastasia can't accept being hurt as a part of the relationship and they break up. The other stories build towards a final reuniting but we'll avoid that in this discussion and focus purely on the first book/movie.

Again, in terms of framework this is interesting, especially with the names in consideration. The princess that lives in something of a common structure catches the eye of an intimidating yet paradoxically unassuming man that has risen to a high position from an impoverished lifestyle, and the ultimate failure of their relationship is centered around the refusal of the princess to suffer for her lover's pleasure. the trouble comes when the story fails in its characterization of Anastasia and throughout she comes across more as uncertain and confused rather then discomforted and struggling with her dueling and quite complex interests. Christian, by extension, is completely failed by the narrative. He feels like a Patrick Bateman like, a person uncomfortable with attraction not defined by rules and law but also wants to love while being scared of it. Instead, he has this all muddled by just being a very attractive boyfriend who protects his girlfriend from all the dangers she doesn't see that also wants to flog his girlfriend without safe words or aftercare. Doesn't land well.

Additionally, the explanation for the contract is a bit ridiculous. Christian Grey makes the women he contracts keep silent about the nature of their relationship, not wanting it to be revealed that he's into BDSM and a dom. While middle America would be (presumably in the writer's assumption) disgusted by an immoral and perverted CEO, it feels like in general the reaction people would have would be a resounding 'figured'. Its a flimsy explanation of why we need to inject drama in a story about BDSM.

The easiest way to fix so much of this, in my mind, is to flip the dynamic. Christian Grey is pursuing Anastasia Steele not because Christian Grey wants a new submissive, but because he wants a new Dom.

This would completely recontextualize so many things in the story. Christian is a self made man turned CEO and carefully maintains an unassuming but rich lifestyle because he's worried the public at large realizing he likes to get tied up and whipped could damage his company. Anastasia struggles with her attraction to Christian and her own enjoyment of a sexual lifestyle with him because she's struggling to understand why she might find pleasure from hurting someone she loves. Christian's posturing and overly protective nature transforms from a creepy focus of protecting his object, it's now the submissiveness of a guard dog wanting to protect it's master.

The urge to pass off all the actual understanding of a relationship onto rules penned by one person with revisions by the other? It goes from a creepy attempt at control by an incredibly shit Dom into a fascinating attempt to impose structure on a relationship that scares a sub as much as it attracts them. the lack of aftercare and safe words? Still Christian's fault, but I think more forgivable in a situation where he's a veteran sub and just wants his Dom to move at their own pace and not worry about it or is scared of imposing rules on her.

And of course, there's the names. Anastasia Steele, on top of everything listed above, feels like a name a professional dominatrix would use. Christian Grey? If you told me that man was submissive off the name alone I'd believe it.

And that's why Anastasia Steele should peg Christian Grey.

...

of course, the trouble is that this is only going to happen in a fanfic. It's a reimagining of a relationship and an attempt to write a fanfiction for a property I have no interest in beyond this interesting little recognition of what could be there going by the framework. There's nothing really concrete here unless you intend to complete rewrite a trilogy of novels purely off of displeasure over poor BDSM practices demonstrated by a duo that should absolutely know better.

It'd be a silly thing to do.

Now mind you, if I wrote a completely original story about a young woman named Diana Irons and her rags-to-riches CEO boyfriend José Brown and their torrid affair as Diana struggles with her partner's worrying fixation on her dominating him...

Nero Scaeva analysis and headcanons

Not a lot is known about Nero Scaeva before we meet him in ARR. He calls himself a “peasant from the provinces” and EE refers to the “squalor of his poor village”. We know a bit about his early career at the Magitek Academy thanks to the short story A Display of Ingenuity. And EE tells us that he was offered a research position at the Academy but turned it down for the military and speculates that this is because of the availability of Allagan ruins to soldiers on the front lines. 

For a long time I have slowly given thought to how I would like to flesh out Nero’s past in my personal WoL-verse without coming up with anything that I felt satisfied with. The obvious route is to assume he is, in fact, a peasant. Perhaps from a farming family. And there’s nothing wrong with that assumption. But personally it doesn’t feel interesting to me. Nero is such a man of contradictions and surprises that I feel his history should have a few twists in it as well. 

Well, recently I happened upon an interesting bit of information. I noticed while looking up something else in EE that while Nero was styled as tribunus laticlavus, when Gaius was a tribune under Solus, he was styled as tribunus angusticlavus. This made me curious about what the difference between the two titles is. It turns out, in Rome where the titles come from, a tribunus angusticlavus was a tribune who came from the Equestrian class or Equites. Whereas a tribunus laticlavus was from the Senatorial class, the higher social class of the two. Not only that, but a tribunus laticlavus would commonly go on to run for political office. It was seen as a sort of unofficial first step on the “Cursus Honorum”, the succession of public offices an aspiring politician would generally follow. 

Naturally, this leaves me wondering why they would choose that highly specific title for Nero if he’s supposed to be a “peasant from the provinces”. It could simply be a coincidence. It could be a joke. It could mean nothing. Or I could take it an run with it and no one can stop me. 

Call me crazy, but I love the idea of Nero going around complaining about being a poor, disadvantaged peasant while actually being part of the aristocracy, but also not exactly lying about himself either.  

So here’s how I imagine the Scaeva family: 

The Scaeva family is Old. They were there in the earliest days of Garlemald, one of its founding families with a proud history. But since the rise of the Empire, their power and influence have seriously waned and their fortunes have plummeted. They had to sell off their properties in the Capital and now live on their impoverished lands in the country. The family has not been blessed with fertility in recent years either. Currently, there is an ailing patriarch (name tbd), a couple of offshoot branches in various parts of the country which are “polluted” with non-Garlean blood (according to the old man), and Nero. Nero’s father was expected to lead the family back to greatness, but he died in the course of Garlemald’s various military campaigns and his mother died soon after in childbirth along with the baby. Now that responsibility has fallen on Nero and his Grandfather raises him to feel the weight of it. 

Unfortunately for the Scaeva patriarch, Nero was born with a rebellious streak and an innate love of technology. Fortunately for Nero, the Magitek Academy is the most prestigious institution of learning in Garlemald so his Grandfather encourages him to study Magitek and earn himself a patron, because technically they can’t afford the tuition but nothing else is good enough for a Scaeva. But after graduation Nero is expected to follow the cursus honorum which means joining the military for about 10 years before running for public office. Nero doesn’t mind joining the military, it gives him access to more Allagan technology than he would get staying in Garlemald. But the last thing he wants is to be a politician and he really couldn’t care less about making the Scaevas great again. 

I imagine that as 10 years in the XIVth come and go, Nero is increasingly pressured by his Grandfather to do his duty to the family and enter politics. Nero puts him off with excuses about his essential he is to Gaius and how important his work on the Ultima Weapon is. Then Praetorium happens. Nero recognizes it as an opportunity to cut himself off from family and duty completely and live his life the way he wants to. He doesn’t look back. 

Additional thoughts: 

Nero has no love for his Grandfather, but if you met the old gentleman you would immediately see where Nero’s pride, arrogance and ambition come from. 

When Nero talks about being a “peasant from the provinces” he is only being slightly ironic. His hometown is squalid and his family estate is only barely hanging on to some semblance of respectability. In the capital, he’s looked down on by the current crop of wealthy and influential families. And of course his Grandfather taught him to condescend to these “nouveau riche” who have risen with Solus. It’s no wonder he can’t make friends. 

Pertaining to my ship:

Nero does NOT want Severia to ever meet his Grandfather. He probably tells her his family is all dead. But the Grandfather hears rumors about Nero bedding the Warrior of Light and thinks to use their relationship to the advantage of the family. Grandfather instantly forgives Nero for deserting and wheedles him into bringing Severia to the family estate to meet. (Mostly he gives in because Severia is very curious and begs him.) It is a very awkward and comedic episode. Not sure when it happens. 

“Who cooks on the Valkyrie?” headcanons cus that’s apparently where my head’s at this morning

(disclaimer that it’s been weeks since I watched the movie and I’m actively ignoring the fact that the novel says Akima and Stith joined the crew like 10 minutes before the story starts, so this will be various degrees of canon-non-compliant)

Basically I got to thinking about Star Trek’s synthetic matter replicator meals and how the obviously impoverished Tau-14 mining station has an actual cook using actual ingredients, therefore in this universe matter replicator tech and/or premade (frozen, capsule form, whatever) meals either don’t exist or are way more expensive...and since the Valkyrie is an independent (not government-run/etc) mission to go find this potentially unfindable spaceship, chances are they’re all volunteers (again ignoring the novel which says Korso offered Akima a salary) and extremely poor, and therefore are cooking their own food

Korso: A decent cook when it comes to simple recipes. Every so often he’ll cook for himself, sometimes for Preed if Preed bugs him about it, but never for the rest of the crew. Partly because he feels it’d undermine his authority as captain, partly because he doesn’t actually care about these people anyways. But he made a point of cooking a meal for everyone when Cale was brought on board, claiming it was to celebrate this special occasion, really just to impress Cale enough to stay and help.

Preed: Actually the best cook on the ship, everything he makes is delicious and everyone loves it, but no one will tell him because they know he’ll get all smug and make them beg or trade favors for it. He totally knows and IS all smug and makes a point of volunteering to cook JUST often enough to tantalize them, hoping to eventually get “something” out of Akima at least. (Gune has no filters/galaxy-standard social awareness, so he'll freely blurt out compliments while Akima and Stith frantically try to cover his mouth and talk over him.)

Stith: Gets all excited to cook, crowing about how she’ll show everyone what REAL food tastes like and toughen them up, and then what she serves is practically raw meat doused with extremely hot spices. (Technically it’s decent by Mantrin standards but a little undercooked, though Stith refuses to admit that.) No one but Preed can digest it and everyone but Preed and Gune are too nervous to tell her (Preed makes droll remarks, Gune invariably takes a bite and starts gagging no matter HOW many times this has happened before and has to get frantically Heimlich’ed by Korso). But usually they have the excuse of being busy and can take their plates to another room to secretly heat up or throw out, and even if they’re stuck in the mess hall at a “family dinner,” Stith will be so distracted ravenously tearing into her meal that they can sneak out a blaster and flash-cook their food without her noticing. When it’s more fully cooked, Akima actually likes the flavor, but she’s the only one.

Gune: Will cheerfully volunteer to cook and then get so distracted by his work that hours, days, weeks go by before he actually gets around to doing it (even if someone keeps popping into the lab to remind him). The crew have learned to fend for themselves in these cases and then frantically hide their food behind their backs if Gune actually wanders into the kitchen, because he gets sad puppy dog eyes if he finds out they’ve made their own meals without him. What he cooks always tastes and smells great, but is just slightly “off” enough to make the others worry about it long into the night. Not even Preed will make a remark about it—not out of any concern for Gune’s feelings, but because he’s too utterly confused by the whole experience.

Akima: A good, very adaptable cook, great at figuring out what substitutions to make when she’s stuck with unfamiliar ingredients. Mostly makes approximations of traditional Earth recipes with alien ingredients, learned from cooking with her grandma on the drifter colony and from chatting with food vendors at other colonies and marketplaces, but she’s pretty adventurous with alien cuisine and knows quite a few alien recipes. She winds up with cooking duty the most and genuinely enjoys it, except when she’s stressed out and pressed for time because of her other duties.

Cale: Has no idea how to cook because he’s never been in a situation where he consistently had to (Tek and his family and friends cooked for him on Tek’s homeworld, and from there they mostly wound up in jobs with crappy cafeterias like Tau-14). Basically if he’s hungry and stuck, he’ll just look around for something that seems food-like, smell it, and hope for the best. After the climax of the movie Akima is FURIOUS to find out he can’t cook (because as stressed as she is to have to cook for everyone while they wait for Planet Bob to cool and other humans to arrive, she emotionally cannot handle the thought of eating Stith’s or Gune’s cooking at a time like this) and drags him into the kitchen with her to start teaching him. He’ll happily chop ingredients for her, but his schtick of pretending not to understand so she’ll cook everything herself gets real old real fast.

According to Director Satou, Sesshomaru’s mom the Toga’s wife. Izayoi is not listed. I thought Izayoi was his wife? This makes it sound like she is the mistress unless Sesshomaru’s mom and Toga divorces?

This has been sitting in my inbox for a while—sorry Anon—because I couldn't source my response.

I was 99% sure Izayoi was referred to his wife somewhere in canon, but unfortunately, I can't track that down outside of the fan-run Wiki. Maybe I'm misremembering from my teenage years. So I don't have an answer for you there. Someone source it if you can!

UPDATE #2: Izayoi was called Toga's wife in the profiles book. So yes, in canon—anime and manga—she is his wife.

Izayoi is also refered to as Toga's wife in Yashahime. Myoga mentions her at around 18:40 in the Jakotsumaru of the Red Bone Palace episode.

But either way; she could have either been a mistress/concubine (officially or unofficially) or a wife. Marriage in that era of Japan was far less formal than in the Western World—Miroku's "proposal" to Sango is evidence of this, and InuYasha not understanding the concept of a proposal when Kagome mentions it—so Toga and Izayoi very well could have been considered married on the basis of consummation and pergnancy. (If marriage politics didn't play into it, which I assume they didn't, considering the divide between their worlds and Izayoi's noble family being impoverished). And there's absolutely zero evidence that SessMom and Toga ever divorced. Men could have multiple wives in that era, especially men of import, and the conversation between SessMom and Kirinmaru in Yashahime implies that she was once the Lady to the Lord of the Western Lands. (If you consider Yashahime canon, there's your evidence.) There's never any mention of them formally splitting up.

Another note: Sesshomaru doesn't refer to InuYasha as a technical bastard as far as I'm aware, just half-breed. Correct me if I'm wrong. So that could lead one to assume he is a legitimate child, which means his parents were married, though Sesshomaru far outranks him in regards to inheritance and class.

No matter where extreme conservatives want women to have kids yet refuse to give women the proper medical support.

When Afghanistan’s first midwife-led birth centre opened in the impoverished district of Dasht-e-Barchi in western Kabul this year it was a symbol of hope and defiance.

It began receiving expectant mothers in June, just over a year after a devastating attack by gunmen on the maternity wing at the local hospital left 24 people dead, including 16 mothers, a midwife and two young children.

For Zahra Mirzaei, its launch – along with a second birth centre in the east of the capital – marked the culmination of a decade advocating for women’s birth rights.

As president of the Afghan Midwives Association (AMA), Mirzaei was instrumental in establishing the midwife-led units promoting an ethos of respectful, bespoke care away from an over-medicalised setting.

“In our country this approach to pregnant women is groundbreaking and there was a great feeling of hope when we opened our doors,” she says.

“Women who had previously experienced undignified, low quality care in poorly staffed hospitals were pleasantly surprised to discover there is another way of doing things.”

The units in Dasht-e-Barchi and Arzan Qimat were established with technical support and training from the Europe-based Midwifery Unit Network (MUNet) and funding from two NGOs which we cannot name for security reasons.

In the initial weeks the centres, staffed with a total of 75 midwives, were each welcoming 10 to 13 newborns a day. But as word spread, increasing numbers arrived and this soon climbed to 25 to 30.

By late July, Mirzaei was preoccupied with how to manage the rise in cases. But her work was overshadowed by a growing awareness of the Taliban’s military offensive, which had gathered unexpected pace.

News of the Afghan government’s imminent collapse amid the withdrawal of US troops was, to Mirzaei, personally and professionally shattering.

“Suddenly everything I had worked tirelessly for was under threat,” she says. As a Hazara Shia and a longstanding campaigner for women’s rights, the 33-year-old knew she and her three children were at risk.

“Previous Taliban governments have killed thousands of Hazara peoplewithout any reason. Also I knew my feminist work and belief in women’s equality would never be accepted by the Taliban regime,” says Mirzaei, who in 2020 was named one of 100 outstanding female nurses, midwives and leaders providing health services in difficult times by Women in Global Health.

As the US and its coalition partners scrambled to airlift thousands of people from the country, warnings were filtering through from Mirzaei’s home town that she was a potential Taliban target.

On the day Kabul fell, plunging the country into turmoil, she left her office for the last time, fleeing in such a hurry she was unable to collect her shoes. “We didn’t expect the situation to escalate so fast,” she says.

Later that night she was woken by the sound of her eight-year-old daughter sobbing: “I went to her and she said: ‘Mummy, I’m scared that when I’m 12 the Taliban will come and take me to get married and I won’t be able to go to school.’ That was so painful to hear that I promised there and then to get Us out.”

After calling every contact she could think of, she heard from a friend in the US who could help. Mirzaei left home with her family at 1am on 23 August, still wearing the flimsy slippers in which she’d fled her office.

They spent a harrowing 12 hours waiting in a sewer near the airport before being rescued by US troops and airlifted to Qatar. From there they were transferred to a refugee camp in southern Spain.

Speaking from the Spanish naval base in Rota, Mirzaei explains how leaving Afghanistan also meant, regrettably, stepping down as president of the AMA.

While she was heartbroken to give up the role, she remains a member of the advisory board and is working remotely to support the organisation including her successor – a woman from a different ethnic group who is more likely to be accepted by the regime.

As the eighth girl of 10 siblings, Mirzaei understood from a young age that boys and girls were not seen as equal. “I had two brothers but my father wanted more boys and it made me sad girls were not allowed to reach their full potential in our community.”

Growing up in the province of Sar-e Pol, where poverty was widespread and literacy rates were poor, 16-year-old Mirzaei found education opportunities were limited.

An encounter at the local hospital set her on the path to becoming a midwife. In the waiting room she witnessed a woman desperately searching for a midwife only to be abused by a health worker.

“This incident really affected me – the way they treated her was shameful. When I saw the doctor I asked her what a midwife was and why it was so important.

“I liked the sound of midwifery – it spoke to the feminist in me. That kind doctor changed my life by explaining how I could enrol on a community education midwife programme.”

A year later Mirzaei graduated with a diploma having already joined the AMA as a student. “I was inspired by its plans for improving the profession. For me the most important thing was for women to receive evidence-based, respectful maternity care.”

But starting out as a hospital midwife in 2006 she was concerned by what she saw.

“There would be 150 deliveries a day in a hospital with only four or five midwives. Women would be left to give birth in the corner or in the toilet. The most painful thing was seeing how exhausted the midwives were – they couldn’t support pregnant women emotionally and there was even physical abuse.”

While women in remote areas typically give birth without medical assistance, or sometimes with a midwife, childbirth in urban hospital settings is highly medicalised.

“These facilities are staffed by doctors who don’t seem to know their job description because they are overrun dealing with straightforward births,” says Mirzaei. “The care is dehumanised and the use of hormone drips and episiotomies is routine practice.”

Afghanistan has one of the highest maternal mortality rates in the world, although the number of women dying in childbirth has slowed from 1,450 per 100,000 live births in 2000 to 638 in 2017, according to UN data.

In 2012 Mirzaei became a provincial director for the AMA and later moved to Kabul to coordinate a midwives’ mentorship programme for the organisation.

She joined a small but growing cohort to achieve a BA in midwifery after graduating from Zawul Institute of Higher Education in 2016. Two years later she was elected president of the AMA and made it her mission to establish midwife-led units.

The model would move away from medical interventions towards a focus on active birth, skin-to-skin contact and early breastfeeding.

In 2003 there were just 467 midwives operating in Afghanistan – the severe shortage brought about by the Taliban’s ban on educating girls and women during the preceding years. This figure has since grown to 6,376 currently in clinical practice.

A 2018 Afghanistan Health Survey found just a fifth of pregnant women had received the recommended four antenatal care visits and fewer than 60% of births were overseen by a skilled healthcare professional.

There were 119 attacks by terrorist groups on healthcare facilities in Afghanistan in 2019, according to the World Health Organization. Then in May 2020 came the massacre at the maternity ward of the Dasht-e-Barchi hospital.

Among the dead was a midwife colleague of Mirzaei, Maryam Noorzad. “She was killed because she refused to leave a woman alone in labour. The baby was coming and after it was born a gunman entered and killed all three of them.”

Not only was the attack a horrific crime against pregnant women, babies and hospital staff – it was also a devastating assault on decades of work to reduce maternal and newborn mortality in Afghanistan.

Despite the security fears, the AMA wanted to establish one of the midwife-led units in the same district to plug the gap left by the attack on the hospital, where there had been 16,000 babies born in 2019. Many of the midwives who survived the 2020 attack were among the highly trained staff taken on by the AMA to run the new centres.

The success of the centres relies on one-to-one care and requires numbers to be kept at a manageable level. To meet the demand it was Mirzaei’s ambition to open more units across Kabul and beyond.

But for now, at best, her dream is on hold. The centres closed after the Taliban takeover and while one has recently reopened many staff remain too fearful to go to work. Some midwives have already been interrogated by the Taliban for moving around without a chaperone.

The UN Population Fund (UNFPA) has estimated that without immediate support there could be 51,000 additional maternal deaths between now and 2025.

In Spain, Mirzaei is preparing to fly to the US to start the next chapter of her life. Her immediate future is uncertain but she has accepted an offer to study global maternal health at City, University of London, which she’s had to defer until she can arrange a visa.

“Every day I open my phone and look at photos that were taken at our birth centres. It gives me hope. Their immediate success rests on the wider political situation but we will not cease our efforts to do everything we can for girls and women in Afghanistan.”

Many midwives who have campaigned for women’s rights in Afghanistan now find themselves targeted by the Taliban and have been forced into hiding, while others are at risk because of their ethnicity. The Association of Radical Midwives is raising funds to help those seeking to settle in the UK. To donate please visit this crowdfunding page.

The headline was amended on 26 October 2021 because an earlier version said the Taliban killed a midwife in an attack on a maternity hospital. While Afghan authorities blamed the Taliban for the attack on Dasht-e-Barchi hospital in May 2020, the group denied responsibility. An investigation by Médecins Sans Frontières in May 2021 was unable to determine with certainty the identity of the perpetrators of the attack and their motives

Update

Streaming is basically ready to go. I did a few test recordings and a bandwidth test stream to make sure things are working and that my bandwidth is ok.

I'm not sure I'm prepared emotionally, or even as far as communication skills go. I am very conscious of my incompetence...so I'm ending up in a sort of "Self-Critical -> Low Mood -> Self-Critical loop".

I wanted to stream to help with those issues, and to overcome or learn to cope with my isolation and vocal deficits.

I'm decent at communicating in text, and very good at listening and responding to others in the moment (most of the time, when I'm not in a low mood).

The issue I'm running into is I'm realizing that I don't communicate myself really, or my inner world with others and nobody really communicates with me in my day to day life. This leads to two problems:

1) I'm not sure when and what to comment on, and find in my recordings I'm responding to my own thoughts out loud instead of imagining an audience (so it's like I'm completing my brain's sentences instead of making sense)

2) How I spend my time and what I focus may be kind of boring? I have knowledge and activities I like and love but I'm running into the issue that I have trouble sharing those things with others, or recalling them fully in the moment (I get dates and details wrong, or I lose my train of thought REALLY easily in the recording)

I catch myself saying a lot of "This is this" and "That is that" pronouns where if you're not in my head you have no idea what I'm referring to.

Then there's the issue with autism where I obviously don't indicate anything with tone of voice. There is inflection in what I say but it's muted in a way, almost imperceptible (I played a scary game and the moments I get scared I just go quiet, or I'm obviously distressed and there's no inbetween).

Basically I'm having trouble communicating anything at all (which I knew would happen, part of what my anxiety stems from).

I'm going to do a few more practice streams, and try to get myself used to talking more clearly, more direct as if someone was present (I am going to use a plush as a stand-in for an audience).

I also got another copy of my Speech and Vocabulary workbook I used to use, since working health insurance and only talking about health insurance for two years has impoverished my vocabulary.

2 years of working a high stress job, where communication was always monitored, forced to be efficient, and penalized if not highly specific and limited in context - while being isolated and unable to communicate with friends/family... I feel like less than a person.

There's other streamers I like (and who like me, or at least the me I'm capable of presenting in text communication) that I'm scared to disappoint by going live. I'm going to try to practice more but if this isn't a deficit I can overcome I feel like it's going to end up one of two ways:

A) Best Case: They understand my disability and are supportive / help me along

or

B) Most Likely Case: They find me boring/droning/uninteresting, and as I struggle to communicate and make sense they tune out.

Or I suppose a synthesis of the two (which is what usually happens in real life) - they want to support me but get so bored they divest their attention and sort of forget me.

I'm not sure I'm interesting enough to attract an audience.

Going in for diagnosis tomorrow, over-promised myself to run D&D that falls on the same day, and am now running into the wall where I'm realizing how poor my communication skills are (specifically when talking about myself, my feelings, and my experience of the world instead of something technical or within an external context).

I will keep trying but I'm very scared of exposing my disability to the people I've developed these (admittedly distant) relationships with through Twitch.

Frozen 2: Dangerous Secrets Review Essay

Why Sensitivity Readers Are Always Necessary

Before I start, I would like to make it very clear that this review only critiques the aspects of colonialism and representation in Frozen 2: Dangerous Secrets. I will not be discussing the romance, side characters or anything else like that. Also, I would like to make it very clear that none of this review is meant to personally attack or berate the author @marimancusi . I firmly believe that none of the cultural insensitivities in her book were intentional, but were simply the result of a non-indigenous, white author writing about experiences she could not personally relate to. My only goals for writing this review is to show the author how her book unintentionally perpetuated many harmful and outdated ideas about racism and colonialism, and to convince her and Disney to contact and hire sensitivity readers before they create content about vulnerable racial/ethnic groups. 

I would also like to state that I am an African American woman and not indigienous, so I have personal experiences with racism and colonialism towards black people, but not towards indigenous communities. So if any indigenous people see problems or inaccuracies with my review, I would be happy to listen and put your voice first.

- - -

To summarize quickly (with full context), Frozen 2: Dangerous Secrets is about Iduna, a young indigenous Northuldra girl (oppressed racial/ethnic minority) who was suddenly and violently separated from her home and family when her people were betrayed and attacked by the Arendellians (colonizing class). As a result of the massacre battle between the two groups, Iduna is permanently separated from her home (caused by a magical and impenetrable mist) and forced to spend the rest of her days in the kingdom of Arendelle, where she lives in almost constant fear of being exposed as a Northuldran (for the townsfolk are violently bigoted against them). Naturally, this book contains many many depictions of racial hatred and bigotry along with exploring the mindset and fears of a young girl dealing with the brunt of colonialism. Unfortunately, it tends to fumble the seriousness of these situations (out of ignorance or out of a desire to keep the book lighthearted/to center the romance plotline), which results in an overall detrimental message to the audience. The missteps I specifically want to unpack are as follows.

- (1/5) Severs Iduna’s connection to her culture before the story even begins (making us feel less empathetic for the Northuldra’s plight) 

I’m not 100% certain, but my understanding is that the purpose of making Iduna a double orphan was to make her more sympathetic and to give her a reason to save Agnarr’s life (to have compassion for a stranger, the same way her adoptive family did for her). In theory this is perfectly fine, quickly establishing that the audience should like Iduna is smart and so is rationalizing her most important, life changing decision. But in practice this only functions to distance Iduna from her culture and family and make the reader care less about the Northuldra. This is because it takes away Iduna’s chance to have a strong, palpable relationship with a specific Northuldra character, which would humanize their entire group (even if only in memory). The only Northuldra characters that Iduna mentions more than once is her mother and Yelena. Both of these characters are mentioned rarely, neither have a close relationship with Iduna (her mother dying 7 years before the events of the story), nor do either of them have any specific personality traits or lines of dialogue (Yelena has exactly one line and it is about knitting). The goal of a story about a child unjustly stolen from her home should be to explore why those acts of violence were so horrific. The very first step of exploring that is to humanize the victims. After all, why would a reader care about the injustices done to a group of people who barely exist? How are we, the readers, supposed to feel bad for Iduna and mourn her family like she does, if we barely know them?

We needed more of Iduna’s memories. We needed to learn about her friends, her family, her mother and Yelena. What were they really like? How did they love Iduna? What were their last words to her before she never saw them again? Didn’t Iduna care for them? Did she worry about their well being and miss their comforts? We need to hear about how she bonded with them, how they made her feel, how they made her laugh or cry. How they taught her to hunt, forage, and knit so that when we hear how the Arendellians speak of them, with such ignorance and contempt, we are as truly disgusted and offended as we should be. 

- (2/5) Equates Iduna and Agnarr’s suffering, aggressively downplaying the brutality of colonialism (even to the point of prioritizing Agnarr’s needs)

First things first, I understand that Dangerous Secrets is a modern day romance novel for older children/teens so an equal power balance between Agnarr and Iduna is preferred (which I agree with). But, this balance extends past the romance and personalities and into attempting to portray Agnarr and Iduna’s suffering as equal. This is best exemplified in these lines of internal dialogue by Iduna:

I did not deserve to be locked away from everyone I loved. But Agnarr did not deserve to die alone on the forest floor because he’d had a fight with his father. Whatever happened that day to anger the spirits and cause all of this, it was not his fault. Nor was it mine. And while we might be on different sides of this fight, we had both lost so much. Our friends. Our family. Our place in the world. In an odd way we were more alike than different. (Page 67)

All of this is technically true, up until the very last line about them being “more alike than different”. Agnarr and Iduna’s lives are nothing alike. Iduna is a poor, indigenous girl who had everyone she ever knew or loved either killed or permanently taken away from her, stolen from her home and forced to spend the rest of her life living in a foreign kingdom rife with people who actively, consistently threaten her safety. While Agnarr, on the other hand, is a white male member of the royal family, heir to the throne, and extremely wealthy. The novel doesn’t shy away from this (at least on Agnarr’s part), and doesn’t hesitate to show us that Agnarr is royalty and will never experience what Iduna has to endure. But it behaves like Agnarr’s relatively petty, temporary, and incomparable ills are just as heartbreaking as Iduna’s and focuses significantly more time and energy building up empathy for him and his woes. This extends from small things like the book asserting that the few times Agnarr needed to stay in his castle, to avoid political assasination was comparable to Iduna’s family being trapped in the mist (against their will for 30+ years); to more concerning issues like claiming Agnarr’s separation from his parent’s is just as distressing as Iduna’s separation from her entire people. Now fleshing out Agnarr and his relation to parents is a good thing, since it can provide crucial character motivation and make him more of a well rounded character. But when Agnarr’s suffering is presented as more relevant and worthwhile discussing than Iduna’s it, by extension, implies that the frustrations of an affluent life and being separated from parents that did not value you in the first place (Runeard and Rita) is somehow more or just as pressing as facing the brunt of the most violent and terrifying forms of colonialism. Agnarr’s story may be tragic, but it is nowhere near as horrific as Iduna’s and the book should acknowledge and reflect that.

- (3/5) Has a rudimentary understanding of racism and how if affects the people who perpetuate it

Dangerous Secrets’ understanding of racism (and how to deal with it) is summed up very concisely in a conversation between Lord Peterssen and young Prince Agnarr. Agnarr asks his senior why the Arendellian towns people are so obsessed with blaming magic and the spirits (magic and spirits being an allegory for real world characteristics that are unique to one culture or people) for all their problems, and the following exchange insues: 

“People will always need something to blame for their troubles”, he explained. “And magical spirits are an easy target-since they can’t exactly defend themselves… “So what do we do?” I asked. “We can’t very well fight against an imaginary force!” “No. But we can make the people feel safe. That’s our primary job.” (Page 132-133)

Though Lord Peterssen is supposed to be a flawed character, who puts undue pressure onto Iduna and Agnarr to uphold the status quo of Arendelle, this line is (intentional or not) how the book actually views racism and how it expects the characters (and reader by extension) to deal with/understand it. Bigotry is portrayed as something that is inevitable and something that should not be quelled or disproven, but accommodated for. Agnarr, as king next in line, should not worry about ending the unjust hatred in his kingdom, or killing the root of the problem (the rumors). Instead he should tell his people their suspicions are correct, and put actual resources and time into abetting their dangerous beliefs. Even later on, at the very end of the novel, Agnarr treats the prolific bigotry and magic hatred of his people as an unfortunate circumstance he has found himself in, and not something that he, as king, has the power or civic responsibility to change. 

This could have been an excellent line of flawed logic, representing how privileged people tend to avoid/project the blame of racism, and prioritize order and peace over justice. Which would work especially well for Peterssen and Agnarr since they are both high class nobles with the power to actually make a difference, instead choosing to foist responsibility onto Iduna (in the case of Peterssen) who was only a child, relatively impoverished, and the one with the most to lose if she spoke out. Or, in the case of Agnarr, they do disagree with the fear mongering, but only for personal reasons (Agnarr because his father used it as an excuse for his lies); refusing still to actually work to improve his society. But the key detail is that this needs to be portrayed as wrong, which this book fails to do. Agnarr nor Peterssen are ever expected to disprove the townsfolk’s bigotry in any meaningful, long lasting sense, Peterssen is never confronted seriously for his cowardice and victim blaming, and Agnarr is never criticized for his anti-bigotry being based entirely on his own personal parental issues and not in the fact that he knows with 100% certainty that the Northuldra are innocent.

This flawed understanding of bigotry also applies to how the book depicts the Arendellian townsfolk, who are awarded no accountability whatsoever for their actions. The townspeople spend the entire book threatening to kill any Northuldra they find and Peterssen, Agnarr, and Iduna are constantly afraid that they would immediately destabilize the government if they found out their king was close to one. But somehow this does not translate into any contempt or distrust in our protagonist or the reader. In this novel, we meet only four openly bigoted individuals: the two orphan children playing “kill the Northuldra”, the purple/pink sheep guy (Askel), and the allergy woman (Mrs. Olsen). The orphans are dismissed wholesale because they are literal children who also lost both of their parents in the battle of the dam (so they were killed by Northuldra; somewhat justifying their anger). And the other two townsfolk are joke characters, whose claims are so unbelievable that they aren’t supposed to be seen as a serious threat. Not only that but Askel is rewarded for his bigotry when Iduna offers he sell his pink sheep’ wool (which he thought was an attack from the Northuldra) as beautiful pink shawls. These are the only specific characters that show any type of active bigotry in the entire kingdom besides Runeard, whomst is dead. Every other character is either an innocent and friendly bystander (the woman at the chocolate shop, the new orphans Iduna buys cookies for, the farmers Iduna sells windmills too, the people at Agnarr and Iduna’s wedding), has no opinion at all (Greda, Kai, Johan), or is portrayed as someone who is just innocently scared and doesn’t know any better (the rest of the townsfolk, especially those who fear the Northuldra are the sun mask attackers). Even the King of Vassar, the most violent and dangerous living character of the story, doesn’t even hold any prejudice against the Northuldra, and simply uses their imagery to scare Arendelle into accepting his military rule. 

So according to this book, bigotry and racism come not from the individual, but from society and the system you live in, but also not really because the people in charge of that system (Peterssen, Agnarr, and eventually Iduna) are also virtually guiltless. This, of course, is not true at all. Racism is a moral failing which exists on all levels of society, from individuals who chose to be bigoted, to others who tolerate bigotry as long as it doesn’t inconveniance them. It's not just an inevitable fear of what you don’t understand, but an insidious choice to be ignorant, fearful, and unjust to the most vulnerable members of society. It is malicious and irrational, and the more you tolerate it, the more dangerous it becomes.

- (4/5) Presents Iduna’s assimilation to the dominant culture as a positive

As the romance plotline of Dangerous Secrets really starts to get underway, Iduna’s life seems perfect. Her romance with Agnarr blossoms, she has her own business, and is becoming accustomed to her new surroundings (in order to make the coming drama more exciting). This is her internal dialogue as she returns to town one day:

I couldn't imagine, at the time, living in a place like this. But now it felt like home. It would never replace the forest I grew up in… But it had been so long now, that life had begun to feel almost like a dream. A beautiful dream of an enchanted forest… There was a time I truly believed I would die if I could never enter the forest again. If the mist was never to part. But that time, I realized, was long gone. And I had so much more to live for now… And my dreams were less about returning to the past and more about striking out into the future- (Page 128-129)

Again, I understand that the point of Iduna being content with her life like this is to be the “calm before the storm” of the romance arc, but the fact that Iduna is almost forgetting her old life, and that it is presented as a good thing, is extremely distressing. At only 12 years old Iduna lost everything she ever had besides the literal clothes on her back; she would never forget that. Not only that, but the real world implication that a minority should cope with their societal trauma by spending the rest of their life working for said society that unapologetically wants to kill them (and get a boyfriend) is horribly off putting. It strikes a nerve with many people of color and indigenous readers because telling minorities to “get a job” or “get a life” (especially when said jobs ignore/are separate from their own cultures) is commonly used by privileged folk to blame them for their own dissatisfaction/unhappiness with the society they live in. The idea is that minorities should continue to suffer, but busy themselves, so they stop criticizing dominant culture and defending/uplifting their own. This is part of cultural erasure, and the book plays into it, by commending Iduna for “having more to live for” than cherishing/wanting to return to her original home, for prioritizing Arendelle over herself, and for forgetting her heritage/playing it off as nothing but a dream. Devaluing indigenous culture like this, especially through an indigenous character, is extremely disrespectful.

Not only that, but it’s completely antithetical to Iduna’s character, since she claims to be proud and unashamed of who she is, but happily assists the townsfolk who hate her, and rarely mentions her heritage besides when she’s caught in a lie or actively being persecuted. This is another failing brought on by the lack of understanding of how racism affects its victims. Being a minority plays into all the decisions you make and all the interactions you have; it’s not something that you can just turn off unless directly provoked. Iduna’s would be constantly fretting about who she talks to, and who she is with because if she gets too close to the wrong person, she could have put herself in serious danger. 

Nowhere is this lack of realism more obvious than the scene directly after Iduna rejects Johan’s proposal. Iduna spends a long time thinking about whether marrying Johan or Agnarr would be better for her, and not even once does being a Northuldra play into her decision making. This should’ve been front and center because your husband can be your strongest ally or your greatest enemy. If Iduna was outed, what could she do to defend herself against or alongside her partner? If she was ever going to consider marrying for anything other than true love, her chances of survival should have been her first priority. 

What I’m not saying is that there needs to be a complete overhaul of Iduna’s personality, or that she needs to be frightened and suspicious at all times. Iduna can project strength and caution. She can be kind to the townspeople, but reserved in order to keep a safe distance. She should cling to the few pieces of her culture she has left, despite what society tells her to do. Or, on the exact opposite side of the coin, Iduna’s personality could be kept relatively the same, but the book needs to acknowledge that this is a terrible thing. Iduna is being assimilated against her will to a society that doesn’t value her and that is a tragedy. In a futile attempt at survival, Iduna buries her culture away and lives her life as a perfect, contributing, model Arendellian citizen, but they terrorize her regardless. 

- (5/5) Negatively depicts the indigenous Northuldra as murderous invaders

In Chapter 34 of Dangerous Secrets it is revealed, during a flashback, that Iduna lost her parents and her entire family group in an attack by a separate group of Northuldra invaders. This scene is completely unacceptable regardless whatever narrative/story purpose it was supposed to achieve for several reasons. Firstly, because this book is about colonialism, which we as a society already know the consequences of and how colonizers, in an attempt to rid themselves of blame, react to it. One of the very first things a colonizer/privileged class will do to make themselves feel less guilty for the atrocities they perpetuate is bring up acts of violence/wrongdoing on behalf of the oppressed. The sole purpose of this is always to make the victims look less sympathetic and less deserving of justice, equality, or attention because “they’re not so innocent, they did wrong things too, so maybe we shouldn't feel that  bad for them/maybe they got what they deserved”. And of course this mindset is absolutely horrific and unforgivable when you’re talking about a group of white colonizers actively trying to destroy and indiscriminately slaughter a large group of indigenous people, including their children. 

The second reason is because the author is a non-indigenous white person, and therefore benefits directly from the downplaying of indiginous pain. I’m sure this wasn’t intentionally malicious on her part, but that’s what she wrote; these are the consequences.  

((Also the fact that one of the Northuldra groups are murderous invaders means that Iduna was actively lying the entire book about the Northuldra being peaceful.)) 

- - -

In conclusion, any book that incorporates the culture and experiences of a group the author is not a part of, should absolutely hire a sensitivity reader to ensure accuracy and respect. As a Frozen superfan myself, I actually enjoyed this book a lot and I was delighted to see the lore, worldbuilding and romance. I loved Agnarr, Lord Peterssen, and Princess Runa and certain pieces of dialogue and imagery were beautiful. This novel just desperately needed someone to check it. All this book needed was a bit more of a critical gaze on some of the character decisions and motivations (I truly believe Agnarr and Peterssen would have been even more intriguing and likeable characters if they were actually called out, and given time to reflect on their hypocrisies) and it would’ve been much stronger and more palatable to diverse audiences. Some elements did need to be cut out completely, but a sensitivity reader would’ve easily been able to point this out and offer alternatives that preserved the spirit of the novel, without including any offensive and distasteful implications.

IkeSen Masamune Analysis #5

I haven’t written one of those in a while. Who knows, maybe I’ll get inspired to put more posts like this together - although I’m not sure if “analysis” wasn’t too big of a word when I picked it. Oh well. It happened already, I presume? So let’s continue onward with that, even if it was a mistake.

1st part: the trauma & the grief

2nd part:  discovering the new meaning to love & getting in touch with himself

3rd part: the pathos of the dramatic route

4th part: future customs & how modern their relationship is (by future standards)

#5: Flaws

It oftentimes seems to me that flaws of character tend to be overlooked on behalf of the great qualities somebody has. After all, why focus on the ugly if beauty is one step away?

Well. My personal opinion is that by doing that, a character is stripped of its complexity and ultimately loses some of its appeal, the flaws being one of the major factors contributing to their overall believability. They make them relatable, are a point of struggle, bring realness into fantasy - so honestly, personally, I lean towards enjoying imperfections. 

As such, let’s look at some of Masamune’s flaws and perhaps wonder how some of them affect him. As always, it’s just my perspective on the matter. So please, if it makes you angry - take a step back. You don’t have to agree with me on that one. It’s okay.

Probably the most obvious one would be his lies - because for a honest and direct person, Masamune lies a lot, even though mostly to himself. He lies to people close to him, consequently keeping them at an arm distance, never allowing for anything possibly presenting his weakness spread to the world. He doesn’t allow himself to hurt - he must be strong. At all cost, every time and every where, and he must always push forward. That by itself, of course, is draining. Perhaps he doesn’t even consider those half-truths and white lies to be dishonest in any way? Does it influence him? It does. It was shown how scared he can be when the one person he has found courage to be vulnerable with could be taken away. It’s one of the factors driving his rather risky choices, it tires him out physically, makes it harder for him to form deeper emotional connections. Generally, I presume it would suffice to say that Masamune isn’t used to somebody taking care of him.

Similarly to the above, Masamune is merciless towards himself. I wouldn’t say he’s addicted to work, but he certainly values it more than himself and his own well-being. He works late hours, is always in the centere of the battle, is willing to accept new responsibilities despite the workload (for example: his route - taking over the impoverished territory and redistributing rice to feed people struck by hunger)... As mentioned in his eternal love route epilogue, Masamune always strove to be deserving of praise, under all conditions. However, is that humanely possible? No. People make errors - and that is okay. It doesn’t come easy for him to accept that. (For example: an event in which he and MC were tasked with finding out a culprit threatening lord Nobunaga - I believe Mitsuhide was also in the group, however, it was only our pair that visited the inn. Due to a mistake on his part, MC was almost stabbed. Almost, as Masamune stopped the knife in time. As it was shown later, he didn’t take it well, distancing himself from her and spending the night training; Does it happen outside events? Yes. It can show in many ways, but one of them would be the fact that he doesn’t like discussing his past self and his weakness from that time. He also hides tears, for very long even from the woman he fell in love with).

He’s not fluent in emotion and his entire route is lined with him discovering that the thing he feels is love (more on that in 2nd part of the analysis, linked above). He undergoes tremendous character development.

There’s also another facet to it - despite being technically a character that’s all  about this “fun”, he’s disciplining himself strictly. He’s always holding himself back, pushing away all the needs and desires that interfere with who he thinks he should be. And what can interfere with it? Anything that lasts. Because for all he knows, there may be no tomorrow. Masamune doesn’t allow himself any stability.

Now, those were more of character traits. However, there’s more to Masamune that could potentially be seen as “damaged”.

This may be debatable, however, I do think that one of the reasons behind his lifestyle (not that it’s the only reason and that he doesn’t enjoy it. Only that it’s a thing that could possibly magnify it) is... Well. He tells himself he is ready to die, but for a man that made his peace with death, he clings desperately to anything good about life.

Now, I don’t doubt his motivation. I believe that if a time came and it was necessary, he would sacrifice himself without a doubt. He would live his life as to be a perfect leader, no matter the cost. But since he doesn’t know when the time will come and since he doesn’t want to regret anything, he doesn’t allow himself to live slowly. It must be fast - it may be over before it fully began.

I don’t consider this by itself to be a flaw. I think a part of him enjoys it. However, I presume that this ongoing intensity combined with little close connections (remember, he’s still a lord to his vassals) can be draining at times, almost desperate.

I’ve already talked about the trauma related to killing his father. However, I think that another traumatic event overlooked in his case is the loss of his eye - and I do dare to say that it was really bad by itself as well.

And I don’t mean just pain. Well. I’m chronically ill and I don’t think I would lie much if I said that being forced to alter your routine is really hard at first. I don’t think that it would be a lie to state that losing a part of functionality of your body can be traumatic by itself as well.

So, he lost sight in his eye first. As such, he was seen as a nuisance by his family - he was hated and this hatred was internalized. For a child to wish they were never born...? It hurts. It hurts a lot, much more when it’s the people, who should protect you, who hurt you like so. He was “defective”.

Now. He decided to take it out. To just get rid of it, to cut it out of himself, to let it be part of the past. He didn’t need to, but he did. Possibly because this eye was a part of his weakness and that he couldn’t have. And this time, it must have hurt again, this time physically.

And by the end of it? He was left with a scar on his face, another reminder of his own perceived imperfection, reminder of a flaw. The all-so-confident Masamune doesn’t generally show it to people - when they fall into the lake and he needs to take off his eyepatch, he tells MC it’s okay to look away. She doesn’t even have a chance to think about it, and he already tells her it’s not a pretty sight. Despite all the temporary lovers he had, there was never any other person before MC who he allowed to touch his scar.

Now, why to even mention all of that? Aren’t there enough positive qualities that I could talk about instead?

But even that all aside - isn’t all in the past? I don’t think so. In moments where he gets pulled away from the reality, Masamune still reaches for his missing eye and instinctively covers it with his hand.

____________________

Well, sure. Let me put it like so:

With this everything, he could have easily caved in. He could turn to pure egoism, he could fund his own whims and be a medicore ruler. He could be selfish.

But, at the end of the day, he chose for his goal to be to allow people to have a future in which they don’t have to go hungry. Where they don’t have to struggle to have this basic need met, as it wasn’t so obvious then.

Because he cares about others so much.

I don’t think this really shines through with his flaws being ignored. And sure, plenty of that stuff needs to be worked through. But... It is only that despite this struggle, he still retained his heart - and as we’ve been informed in his eternal route epilgoue, he was a really sensitive and empathetic child.

As per request, a tag for @tsubaki3192

Halloween Movies with Black Leads

Its my favorite time of the year and I LOVE seeing other people post their Halloween movie play list but if I’m being honest, its always the exact same 2 dozen films listed on everyone’s lists. While I love these movies, the lists aren’t original or diverse. Here is a Halloween movie list with some forgotten (ignored) gems that I highly recommend. These films range from family friendly to adult horror so viewer discretion is advised.

1) The people under the Stairs

This 1991 horror comedy follows Fool, a black child who gets guilt into helping some criminals break into their rich landlords house to steal their fortune. Once inside of the house, the landlords kill the adult intruders and go about their business until they realize there is another unwanted person in their house. As Fool tries to escape the house that is rigged with traps, he learns the landlords have not only been hording resources from the neighborhood they have been making money from but have also been committing gruesome acts. The People Under the Stairs gives us something we rarely see in Hollywood, a black male child as a hero, a genuinely entertaining story, and a critique of those who are on top by exploiting impoverished communities.

2) Twiches 1 & 2

Its the Mowry twins whats not to love? I never read the books so I won’t compare. These movies are about two sisters (Alexandra Fielding and Camryn Barnes) who were separated at birth, meet when they are grown, and find out they have magical powers. Honestly its just a fun movie. If you like Halloween Town or Hocus Pocus you’ll probably like this one. Plus its not everyday we get to see beautiful black witches on the screen who are not a side character.

3) Get Out

Ok I know everyone has heard of this one. If you support BLM but haven’t seen this film yet, what are you waiting for? Chris (a black man) goes to meet his (white) girlfriends family for the weekend and eerie unsettling white nonsense ensues. I think white liberals have a harder time with this movie than conservatives do. It is as Jordan Peele described it, a “social thriller”. I got very emotional at the end when I saw this movie in theaters. It hits all the emotions.

4) Tales from the Hood

I ask that you give this one a chance please. A horror “comedy” from 1995, Tales from the hood is a anthology that is centered around a funeral home. Each story could be taking place in modern time as they address timeless issues dealing with police violence, domestic violence, racism, gang violence and a hard look at not only how society treats the black community but how the black community treats each other. 

5) Us

Staring the fabulous Lupita Nyong'o, the film is about a family who goes on vacation to the mothers childhood beach house. Haunted by her past, Adelaide can’t shake the feeling that something is off. She is right as a family of doppelgangers show up and chaos ensues. This film is truly creepy.

6) The Witches (2020)

Technically not out yet at the time of this post. This is my favorite Ronald Dahl book and I loved the original movie with Angelica Hudson. The remake looks supper cute and I LOVE Octavia Spenser. The story is about a boy whose parents die, he goes on to live with his grandma, she tries her best to prepare him for the dangers of the world, and he encounters a ploy by you guest it real life witches. The witches scheme to turn every child into a mouse. It is up to Luke and his grandma to save the day! 

7) The Haunted Mansion

In this silly family friendly comedy, Eddie Murphy plays a realtor who is more interested in making a sale than he is in spending time with his loved ones. While on their way to a family vacation, Murphy stops at a potential clients mansion and learns that there is a mystery afoot. Based off the beloved Disney park ride, the Haunted Mansion is full of ghosts, murder, mystery, charm, and intrigue.

8) A Vampire in Brooklyn

Eddie Murphy has never looked so fine! Also staring the beautiful Angela Bassett, this romantic love triangle film will be sure to thrill anyone who is a fan of gothic romance.

9) Blade

Give me more sexy vampires please! I’m not usually one for action films but this one ( based off the Marvel superhero) actually works. It’s about a half vampire who is out to avenge his dead mother by taking out other vampires and villains. The martial arts and costumes alone make this film a enjoyable watch.

10) Gothika

Staring Hallie Barry, this film is about a psychiatrist who has a frightening encounter on the road while driving home one night. She wakes up in the mental hospital she works at only to discover that her husband has been murdered and she is the one accused of killing him. Barry tries to maintain her sanity while proving she is innocent. But is she?  

11) Night of the Living Dead (1968)

Admittedly not one of my favorite films, but I have included it because of what this film did by paving the way for Black cinema. If it were not for Romero’s decision to cast Duane Jones as Ben, a (black) man trying desperately to survive the zombie apocalypse and protect a group of (white) survivors, we might have not ended up with all these other horror films listed. This film came out during the American Civil Rights movement, at the time white people were not on board with interracial film and television. Even when Sesame Street came out in 1969, it was banned in some areas because of its interracial cast. Having a black actor as a main character during this time was unheard of.

That’s it for now! Hope this list will inspire someone to watch something else besides Beetlejuice (I love this movie but there are other movies out there) this Halloween. If anyone wants to add to this list feel free to :)

Honorable mentions (as cool as these characters are they are not the main focus of the story or they are problematic but I still wanted to give them a shout out):

Queen of the Damned: Akasha played by the late Aaliyah.

Rochelle from The Craft. Her character was well written for the first half of the film, then it all falls apart.

Laurent from Twilight. Just because I hate Twilight, that doesn’t mean that I can’t appreciate how hot  Edi Gathegi is in this film.

Candyman. This movie has a interesting plot, a folklorist is doing research on a urban ledges and discovers that it is real. Not bad but the problems is who the antagonist is taking his anger out on. To quote a article I once saw about the movie, “you can tell that there were no black women in the board room when this film was being pitched”.

“You always look beautiful. Tonight, you look divine.” Dorian & Anders?

Next installment of this little series! Thanks for the great line :)

Summary: Dorian and Anders attend a wedding, and Anders makes some new friends.

The rest of this series is up on AO3 and you can read the whole thing in order there, or just this prompt fill under the cut.

--

The reception was to be held at an estate up on the coastal cliffs, a half hour drive from the Chantry in central Minrathous, and as they drove (Anders in the passenger seat of Dorian's flashy car, examining the many features of his complicated dashboard in favour of eyeing his hands any further), Dorian chatted amiably about nothing at all: more critique of bad hats and unfortunate robe choices, a rundown of the family gossip, commentary on the venue. The estate hosting the reception wasn't a vineyard, but he insisted that Anders get himself a glass and a view at their earliest convenience so that he could live vicariously, being temporarily sworn off the stuff as he was. 

It was all sort of a lot, this weekend afternoon of extravagance and small talk. Dorian was going on like they were mere acquaintances again, not touching anything to do with pushed-down childhood memories or acts of violence or threats of politically motivated poisoning. Anders tried to appreciate it, but Dorian drove too fast on the highway, and in the close quarters of his clean, comfortable car he still smelled darker than summer, better than wine. By the time Anders stepped out of the cool, filtered air of Dorian’s car, he was feeling somewhat queasy. His stomach was still turning somersaults as he inhaled more floral garden scents and followed Dorian down a maze of shrubbery and into a wide, dimly lit hall furnished in long tables draped in white satin and lace, magically floated lanterns, and a huge ice sculpture of a swan, dead centre.

Serving staff circulated with silver trays of tiny, frilly foods: puff pastries stuffed with cheese, figs skewered with cured meats, little glasses filled with complicated looking salads that were as difficult to eat as they looked, as well as drinks. They were elves, mostly, the staff; dressed in identical black uniforms, disappearing into the shadows when their trays ran empty, reappearing by the sides of anyone whose glass needed replacing, silent and expressionless. A few stray glances fell from the other well-dressed guests onto Dorian and Anders as they made a quiet entrance into the hall, and Anders found himself envying the invisibility of the servers, his chest tightening each time Dorian was afforded a nod or himself a curious once-over. He fiddled with the gilding of the cuff of his sleeve — Dorian’s sleeve, really — and Dorian paused to stop an elf with a tray, taking up glasses for each of them. 

“Nothing alcoholic for either of us, please,” he heard Dorian saying to the elf, voice soft and kindly as he flashed him one of those people-pleasing smiles, “can I count on you for that?” The elf nodded silently, and Anders caught the flash of coin being slipped into a pocket on the server’s apron while Dorian smiled some more. “Wonderful,” he went on, “we’ll look to you for the night, ser...” The elf nodded again, this time with wider eyes, hesitating as Dorian waited expectantly for a name. 

“Elarin,” the elf answered meekly, stuttering the name out quickly. 

“Elarin, lovely name. Magister Dorian Pavus, plus one —” Dorian gestured to Anders, and with almost as much hesitation and stuttering as the elf, Anders raised a hand in a wave and said “Anders,” before Dorian continued charming away. “You’re my man tonight, Elarin; sparkling fruit juice and water when you can, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” he finished with a friendly nod and sharp eyes, and Elarin nodded once more. 

“Of course, Master Pavus,” 

Dorian shuddered at the title, almost imperceptibly, just some tension settling on his brows as his eyes seemed to sharpen even further, but he didn’t correct it. “Oh, but one glass of Aggregio Pavali for my friend here, first. Finest vintage you have, and I’d see you pour it. Can’t let it have too much air.” Dorian added with a wink towards Anders, while Anders just stood by and tried not to blush. 

“Right away, Master Pavus,” said the elf, to one more twitch of Dorian’s perfectly placed smile, and then he turned on his heel to disappear through the growing crowd in a hurry. 

“There, see? I promised you I’d be careful.” Dorian noted as the elf left their earshot. 

Anders crossed his arms. “Good of you to be friendly about it,” he said with a stiff shrug, watching as everyone else in the hall seemed to grab bits of food and drink from the other elves circulating with trays without so much as a nod. 

“I find it greatly increases the chances of getting what I ask for,” Dorian’s usual wry smirk was back, “and with a name, if anything goes awry, we’ll know where to start.” 

“Smart.” Anders agreed, though it bit at him somewhat, how easily Dorian turned graciousness to machinations.

Elarin came back momentarily, wine bottle and glass in hand, and poured a serving of it expertly while Dorian watched with another of his smiles. He handed Anders the glass, Anders shot Dorian a look, but thanked the elf, and then he was gone again and Dorian was leading him quickly through the murmuring crowd of mingling guests to a wide, glass door that opened onto an airy balcony. 

He could smell the sea. Better than the beaches by Minrathous’ busy harbour, uncluttered by ships and without the backdrop of car exhaust and city noise. The balcony looked out over jagged cliffs of silvery rock and brightly sparkling waves, rolling up against the shore under a swirling mist of seaspray and white gulls. It was a lovely view, and then Dorian stepped into it, leaning his elbows up over a railing draped with garlands of white roses, and smiled out into the sun like it was made for him. 

“You should have this,” Anders offered him the untouched glass, feeling guilty for the special treatment and awkward about his ability to properly appreciate it, anyway. 

Dorian shook his head. “It’s all or nothing for me,” he said with a casual wave of his hand, “just don’t forget to breathe it in.” 

So Anders drank the wine, doing his best to appreciate its layers of sweet and dry, wood and leather, fruit and chocolate, while his head spun with a dizziness that had nothing to do with the height or the alcohol. The balcony was quiet, with everyone still working through their introductions to one another inside, and Dorian was quiet, gazing out beside him with something thoughtful hiding deep in his eyes, but Anders’ head was never quiet, and right now it was all alarm bells for the crowd and too many thoughts about Dorian’s lips and other worries he couldn’t place; discomfort in his robes (Dorian’s robes), discomfort with being waited on, discomfort with Tevinter society, as usual, but closer to it than he usually was, and too aware of his posture because of it. 

“Thank you again, for coming,” Dorian said after a moment, not taking his eyes off the waters below, “I think I saw the new Health Minister inside, so it doesn’t have to be a total waste of an evening. I was thinking of cornering him later to talk about the rising number of your critical cases coming from the Elvhen quarter —” 

“The east end projects, you mean.” Anders interrupted with correction. Elvhen quarter was an outdated name; people weren’t sectioned off in Tevinter anymore, not by law, anyway, and the slums of the city where the poorest classes lived were no longer restricted to elves. Though the name remained apt enough.

“Right,” Dorian flushed slightly, and the spirit in Anders that watched these things especially closely was heartened by the fact that the slip embarrassed him. “I was thinking about what you mentioned, the correlation between your cases at the hospital and the shutting down of that healthcare centre and the halfway houses — it’s an infrastructure problem, technically, but it’s very possible that with a new minister looking to make a good name for himself quickly, that the solution could be approached from the healthcare side of things…” 

Anders nodded along, and if his spirit companion was happy with Dorian’s care for words, then Anders was just happy to have his own remembered. Dorian’s expression began to lose some of its undecipherable sealonging, and he grew animated as Anders offered up a few more opinions of his own. 

And then they were talking, really talking, about the kinds of politics no one ever seemed to talk about, but that both Dorian and Anders always wanted them to. Anders moved to lean with him, looking out at the sea while describing the few simple changes that, if implemented to municipal health policy, could improve the lives of thousands of impoverished residents, throwing in some comments on the old legislation, comparing things to how it was done down south — not better, exactly, with the restrictions on magic, but somewhat more fair. An odd way to get comfortable, talking of deadly disease and dereliction, but it helped. He finished the glass of wine, still taking slow, appreciative sips, and began to feel just good, alcoholic side effects or not. 

Then, someone else stepped through the door behind them, and they both froze. Anders felt her before he saw her, a deep discomfort setting back into his bones as Justice perked up with an angry flare, and it seemed like Dorian did too, apparently equipped with some warning system of his own. He straightened, his smile fell and his eyes hardened, and then he turned around. 

“Mother,” he said, just a noun. The woman he said it to scowled, eyes that were darker and harder than her son’s stuck firmly on Anders. 

“At least you’re in black.” She said, flicking her gaze quickly over Dorian’s outfit before landing it back on Anders, and eyeing his robes (which remained — very obviously, he was sure —  Dorian’s robes) with a deep frown.   

She was in black, like her son, and like him had made it elegant. Draped in a sweeping shawl, neck decorated in simple, bright diamonds that could probably buy a house. “And this is?” 

“Anders, my Lady,” Anders did his best to remember the right greeting for a woman of her station in her current state — no handshake, for a Lady in mourning, so he ducked his head a little and hoped that would do. 

“That tells me nothing.” Apparently, he’d done it wrong. 

Beside him, Dorian sighed, and without masking his displeasure whatsoever, rolled his eyes. “A friend, mother. He’s one of the doctors who treated father, you might remember. We were just discussing health policy.” 

His mother huffed, and raised a skeptical eyebrow. 

“I’m very sorry for your loss, Lady Pavus. Your son has a real drive for improving our healthcare systems, and I imagine he gets that from you.” Anders did his best to compliment her, but beside him Dorian stifled a snort. 

“A wedding is hardly the place for politics.” she said. 

“And a mourning period is hardly the time for a wedding,” Dorian answered quickly, “yet here we are. I thought it more fitting to use the opportunity to rub elbows with our newest minister. Work over frivolity, as father might say.” there was a challenge in his tone, but his mother didn’t rise to it. She simply sighed, and stared holes into the collar of Anders’ glittering robes. 

“Your father would have wanted you to use the opportunity to mingle with some of the eligible women —” 

“Doctor Anders, what was it you were just saying about the way funding is distributed to hospitals in the south? It would be a shame not to bring that to the attention of the new minister, and I do think that he will be quite swamped with meetings after tonight. Shall we go see if we can get a few sober words in with him before the dinner?” Dorian plainly cut his mother off, not seeming to notice as her words petered out under his sudden burst of professionalism. 

Anders said nothing, but nodded slowly, his own eyes growing teary and unfocused as he attempted to keep the blaring, bright heat out of his head. He had kept his distance from the woman when the elder Pavus had been dying in his hospital, her shrill voice a warning enough. Now that she was here in front of him, he could hardly hear anything else for all of Justice’s angry energy. 

“I only came to say I’d be leaving after the speeches. I don’t expect you to, but do try not to let your politics cause any volatility in the later evening.” She said it like a warning, and the alarms in Anders’ head grew louder and louder. 

“All business, rest assured.” Dorian said curtly back, and then with one last long, sweeping look over Anders’ outfit from head to toe, the woman left and took her high-held head of glittering jewelry back inside.

“That was unpleasant.” Dorian muttered once she’d gone, voicing Anders’ own thought with a sigh. “We had better find our seats for dinner.” 

“Is it All Business Magister Dorian Pavus from here on out, then?” Anders quipped, or tried to quip, in a friendly way. His head was still unfocused. 

“Only until after the speeches, apparently.” Dorian winked, though it didn’t reach his smile, and it didn’t bring one out of Anders either. 

—

Anders excused himself to use the restroom inside, splashing water on his face and steadying Justice's ever growing discomfort with a breathing exercise and a tight squeezing motion to his hands, up and down the palms. When he came out again, Dorian had worked some of his magical charm to change their seats — away from his mother and other actual relations, and to the same table as the new health minister and some other people of political note. The energy given off by this new seating arrangement wasn't much better than what he'd suffered from Dorian's mother, but Dorian seemed to be making the most of things. Again, machinations out of the simplest niceties. All new kinds of intimidating, watching him politely talk shop with his hands carefully placed atop the table. 

Anders tuned most of it out, preoccupied with keeping Justice at bay and remembering his manners. In the Circle, they'd had classes on how to behave, in the event that they one day might be able to jump the many hoops of becoming state sanctioned healers and find an honourable position in good society, somewhere. He'd always failed them. Then he'd run away, and joined the kinds of societies where he never had to use them. So he tried to copy Dorian, napkin on his lap and hands on the table from the wrists, not the elbows, back straight. 

The food was delicious but there was too little of it, the speeches afterwards dry and lengthy, and of them there were too many. Cake was cut, and the newlyweds, both middle aged and stiffer than the ice sculpture they danced around, took the first slow steps onto the floor. There was a real band, but it played only old, melancholy songs. A trickle of other couples moved to join in after the first number, but Dorian stayed where he was, apparently having gotten himself engaged in an argument while Anders wasn't paying attention. 

“The bloodlines are dying out, it's more important now than ever that policy preserve the rights of mages —” someone was saying, a large man in red formal robes and with cheeks to match. 

  “Preserve them, certainly, but we needn't trample on the rights of others to do that,” Dorian replied evenly, and Anders adjusted his attention to listen to Dorian’s argument. He’d heard him explain the purpose of the Soporati bill with impassioned fervor a few times, but never seen him actually argue it with any of the other powers of his ilk. He watched the light dance in Dorian’s eyes, listened closely as he spun the other man’s argument in circles and unravelled it. His words flew out fast and certain and smooth, his argument practiced and absolutely correct. 

Mage rights were different in Tevinter, almost opposite to what they were everywhere else. Mages could vote on everything, and were free to pursue nearly anything they wanted, and it was a kind of freedom that still frequently blew Anders away. But it was far from absolute, and far from fair. Family name mattered more than ability, magical training was expensive and the Circle system an elitist nightmare of academia and bureaucratic absurdism — his own transfer from an acclaimed medical school in the southern system had been almost impossible to navigate, and in order to find a way into the system, he’d needed to practically restart. Years of work experience and training had meant nothing, and now he was a vastly overqualified resident, paying off debts under a contract that kept him legally part-time, so that he wouldn’t receive the same pay as someone with a full contract. Yet, his hours sat at just a hair under the limit set by national labour law for full time work, and loophole clauses let him work fourteen hour shifts anyway. As for those without magic, the vote was limited, and the reach of careers in anything but the Templar order was limited too, regardless of how much magic was actually needed for the job. Dorian wanted to make things freer for everyone, not just those who came from old names, and Anders — well, Anders liked that about him. He liked it a lot. 

“There are fewer mages in every generation, you should be more worried about protecting your own —” someone else at the table spoke up, taking the red-faced man’s side. 

“That's the lyrium drying up,” countered someone else, before Dorian could respond. At that, Dorian shook his head with a sigh. Lyrium wasn’t drying up, it was being hoarded and poorly managed and otherwise mishandled, and always had been, but any conspiracy theories that said the world was losing its magic were just that. 

“It's got nothing to do with lyrium, it's the old bloodlines being polluted.” Said the red man, which as conspiracy theories went, was much worse. Anders felt his blood begin to boil. 

 “Magical birth has almost nothing to do with lyrium exposure or bloodlines,” Anders spoke up, deciding to cut in, since they'd somehow fallen onto a subject he actually knew rather a lot about, though he usually argued about it against a very different perspective. 

“Oh? And you know this how?” Eyes on him again, the man’s red face all eyebrows and snarl.

“I'm a doctor. I specialize in spirit healing. Magical interaction with biology is my area of expertise.” Anders replied, forcing a calm as best he could. He took hold of his cool glass of water in one hand and tapped his fingers against his leg with the other, under the table. “Anyone can be a mage. There’s some genetic involvement, but it’s complex. There’s no one magic gene, it's essentially random.” 

 The red-faced man harrumphed at him, “mages are the maker's chosen, and in Tevinter the old families found ways to preserve the truest magical blood, long ago.” He said, going on to attempt to quote some more scripture at him before Dorian cut him off with a scathing remark. 

Anders sighed again, and let Dorian take the lead on the religious angle. He hadn’t grown up with a Tevinter interpretation of the Chant, and to look at him it was apparent that he wasn’t of an old Tevinter family, but if the service earlier in the day indicated anything, he knew exactly the sort of argument he’d be finding himself in if he tried it, and in his experience it was a futile one. Can’t argue with belief. 

Dorian was only halfway to the eventual wall that would block up this particular conversation when someone else swung by the table to interrupt with friendly greetings, and Anders’ head nearly split in two. A stout, dark-haired man with a wide forehead and receding hairline who called himself Devon Valarius patted the red-faced man warmly on the back, offered Dorian a drink with too knowing a laugh, traded in a few anecdotes about a recent sports game and the weather, and then moved on to the next table. The entire time he lingered, Anders had to clutch his water glass with both hands and breathe very, very carefully. 

Something was wrong, Justice was screaming, very wrong. 

“Who the fuck was that?” he whispered, nudging Dorian under the table. Anders’ voice had somehow turned hoarse and raspy despite the fact that he’d barely uttered three sentences since they’d sat down, and Dorian cocked an eyebrow while Anders finished his water in one large gulp. 

“Him?” Dorian shrugged, “Captain of the Minrathous Circle Templars, why?” 

 Templar. Was that all? It had been ages since he’d set foot near one, but such a reaction from Justice seemed like overkill, even for the ones back in Kirkwall, where they practically ruled the city. Here, Templar Captain was all but a vanity position. Anders frowned. “Don't let him near your drinks,” he whispered, “he doesn't...feel good.” 

 Dorian looked between Anders and the Templar, now two tables away, and his confusion mounted. “He's a blowhard and a buffoon, but he's not dangerous.” Dorian replied, quiet and reassuring, “there's no power in the Templar order here, it's all just formality. Trust me, I attended the Minrathous Circle. I could take that man out with less than the power held in my little finger.” 

Anders nodded, but the feeling didn’t abate. Dorian managed to get pulled back into arguments, but all Anders could do was follow the Templar around with his eyes. He moved from table to table, and then eventually to the dance floor, patting backs, making jokes, drinking wine. Harmless. Anders watched him a while longer, and then decided to try to shake the nerves off again with some more water in his face. It had been a strange day, after all, sitting in a Chantry for hours had probably just primed him to be extra sensitive to buffoonish Templars. He excused himself politely, to barely a nod from Dorian — who was busy again talking circles around the rest of the table, and gaining himself a bit of an audience from the others as well.

Anders splashed some water on his face in the restroom, and then he just spent some time walking, taking purposeful wrong turns down the halls of the sprawling estate and trying various doors just to see if they were locked. They mostly were, but then he pushed in through one that wasn’t, and found himself hit with a wave of heat and delicious smells and laughter, stumbling into a bustling kitchen. 

Elarin, the elf who had dutifully kept both him and Dorian in water and juice, was sitting on a long stainless steel counter by the door, and at the sight of Anders he jumped up, eyes wide and nervous. “Serah —” he started to exclaim, while at the same time Anders tried to apologetically back away. 

“Sorry — no, we don’t need anything — I was just looking for the ah —”

And then all that fumbling for words was interrupted by someone else, a very loud elf who pushed in through the door behind him and, as soon as it closed, slammed a plate of uneaten food down onto the counter and began an angry tirade: 

“Maker’s balls! First, she sends the fish back because it has bones, now the orange chicken is too orangey, I swear if that fucking bitch had a stick any further up her ass it would be poking out her eyeballs. And she wants to know why the fucking statue is melting, well yeah, lady, it’s mid summer in Minrathous, no amount of magic is going to keep that ice cold for more than an hour! Andraste’s ass, these fucking shems, all fucking day! The curtains, the linens, the flowers, the ice, the fish, now the fucking chicken —” seeing Anders, the elf stopped. Her hand flew to her mouth, and her honey brown eyes grew huge and shiny. “Shit.” She said. 

Anders burst into laughter. It bubbled out of him, grin spreading as even the most tightly wound parts of him breathed out a sigh. Loud, guffawing, dumb laughter. Fuck. What a wonderful thing, curses. 

“You took the words right out of my mouth,” he assured the staring elves, as soon as he could, “thank you for saying all that, really. Someone had to or I was going to and that would have gone very poorly, I think.” he breathed, still laughing between every other word. The expressions on the elves watching him softened a bit more. There were four of them now, Elarin, this young serving girl, and two more, on the other side of another long counter covered in dishes and ingredients, hovering over the stoves. They’d been busy cooking, and probably swearing like sailors themselves until he’d walked in, and all were now watching him in obvious confusion. 

Elarin laughed first, sitting back on the counter again and shaking his head. Then the girl relaxed, and chuckled a little as she moved to lean by Elarin, though she was still blushing.   

“You need a break, then?” Asked one of the cooks behind the line, the older of the two. His long grey hair was tied back and tucked into a net, and he had a long scar on one arm from elbow to wrist, as well as several tattoos over his face, but it was a kind face, the wrinkles mostly laugh lines. The cook shrugged as he turned to return to work, “no sweat. It happens sometimes. You want more food?” 

“Maker, please.” Anders said eagerly, “if it isn’t too much trouble.” 

“It’s nothing. We’re done serving, and these things, they always order three times what they need. Half the cake will still be here at the end of the night,” he gestured to where a large sheet cake sat at one end of the kitchen, cut into squares and waiting to go out and replace the stock of identical cake that was carefully plated on pretty tables outside, mostly untouched. “chicken or fish?” 

“I had the vegetarian option, actually.” 

“So you’re the motherfucker. There’s always at least one. You’re easy though, it’s these trendy, all-organic, no salt, allergic-to-flavour assholes these days, like there’s anything wrong with good old fashioned food —”

“Don’t get me started,” Anders agreed, “Organic is just a hoop to jump through, and people need salt —” 

 “Alright, I like you.” the chef remarked with a grin, “you can have some more vegetarian bullshit. You like the meal?”

Anders chuckled, “I wouldn’t call it bullshit,” he said. Then recalling the too-small courses of soup and pasta and other small portions of perfectly cooked vegetables, he mustered some seriousness to his tone, “it was incredible, actually, thank you.” 

“I like a challenge. I’ll fix you some more pasta. El?” 

Elarin answered eagerly as well, perking up to say “chicken,” from his spot on the counter. 

“Good choice. Chicken’s better, Blondie.” 

Anders swallowed, his heart suddenly in his throat. “I used to have a friend who called me that,” he said with a shake of his head, “but here it’s always honorifics and full titles, even in the fucking shops.” 

“Not for us,” cut in the young serving girl as she took up a new plate of chicken that the other cook had plated without changing anything about what was already on his pan, “wish me luck out there.” 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean — good luck.” Anders nodded towards her, and she shrugged her way out the door and back into the hall. 

“Where you from?” the cook asked, continuing the conversation as he set out a plate of pasta and a plate of chicken on the counter between them. 

“All over,” Anders sighed, “but my friends were in Kirkwall.” Now, they were all over — those that were even still his friends at all. 

He took his plate of pasta, a much more satisfying looking portion on this one, and leaned back on the counter next to Elarin, who once again hopped up onto it. If it was possible, this plate was also better than the last, more boldly spiced and perfectly balanced. 

“Where’d you learn to cook like this?” Anders asked appreciatively, between bites. 

“Army,” answered the cook, “you want to hear some war stories?” 

Anders frowned, and his heartbeat, which had just been beginning to settle down, picked up again. “No thanks,” he tried to shake off the unpleasant rush of heat through his head, “I have my own.” 

The cook — Red, everyone called him, though nothing about him was — continued to chat and curse away as more servers filtered through, cleaning up and pausing to vent and eat as the dinner portion of the night ended, and the kitchen staff was reduced to a skeleton crew. Anders finished his pasta, and fell into conversation with the small group of remaining staff as they gathered inside the kitchen during yet another round of speeches. Inappropriate jokes were told, gossip aired and complaints made, and Anders found himself having the easiest time he’d had all day.

“What's he like, the new Magister?” one of them asked him at one point, “are you here, you know, with him?”

Before he could fumble his answer to that, the gossip around Magister Dorian Pavus answered for him: 

“— can’t be. Watch what you say —”

“I heard he was like that, I don’t know —” 

“A Magister? Are you stupid?” 

“— I heard he was like that, but they fixed him —” 

“Fixed him?”

“You know, like with magic.”

“That’d be some fucking magic — you can’t fix —” 

Anders attempted to cut in. “I’m not with him. We’re friends. And you can’t ‘fix’ what I think you’re saying was fixed. It isn’t magically or medically possible and besides that it doesn’t need fixing —”

“Does here, if you’re a Magister.” replied one of the elves. Anders frowned. 

“We’re just friends.” He said again. 

“Elarin, you owe me ten bucks.” Elarin blushed, and handed some of the coin from his apron over to a blond elf who extended her hand.        

“He's the one trying to open up the vote for Soporati on all levels, isn't he?” asked the same blond elf, pocketing her coin happily. 

“Pfft. Having fun with his new position, way I hear it,” another bit of gossip answering for him again, “at every party, and every after party, too.” 

Anders was still frowning through all of it, “no,” he cut in again, defensively, “he really is trying. The parties are part of the work, even just now he was arguing the bill with that Maximilian asshole. He's a good man.”

 “No such thing as a good Magister.” He’d learned all their names, and the one who said that was the same brown-eyed elf who’d come in swearing the first time. Nella, her name was, and she hadn’t come back much happier. Anders frowned some more, unsure what to say. 

The kitchen, despite being hot from the cooking, felt cooler and clearer than the crowd outside. Justice had no qualms with the serving staff, it seemed, and they had none with him, once they’d all learned where he was from and heard him laugh at a terrible joke or two. No one was eyeing his robes or monitoring his utensil choices while he ate, but he was still out of place.

As the speeches ended, the servers took up empty trays to clear away glasses from the crowd, and filed out one by one. Anders caught Elarin on his way out. 

“Can you find my friend and just tell him I’m fine and that I’ll meet him out there in a minute?” he asked, still dreading reentering that crowd or sitting through any more slow songs or arguments at their table, “or just tell him I can make an excuse whenever he wants to leave, whatever.” Anders amended the instruction; Dorian didn’t really need him for this, anyway.   

  Instead, Elarin came back with a full tray of empty glasses, and Dorian. 

“What are you doing, hiding in here?”

If Anders was out of place in the kitchen, then Dorian was a sore thumb. Elarin and Nella and the other elves — Gendrin, Dominic, Rena, and the two cooks, Red and Oscar — were all silent and stony as he stood there, looking at Anders. 

Anders shrugged. “Taking a break?” he said, too meekly, but Dorian only smirked softly at him. 

“I know it’s a chore, but everyone is drunk now, and the band seems to have figured out what a beat is. Why don’t you come dance?” he offered with a smile that fluttered in Anders’ stomach. 

“And you feel alright?” Anders checked nervously — he’d taken his eyes off Dorian and his drinks for Maker knows how long, hiding in the kitchen. “No one’s tried to bribe any of you except us, have they?” he turned the question to Elarin, inspecting him with intent eyes. 

Dorian crossed his arms and sighed. “I’m fine. Too fine, if you ask me. Would you quit being on the case and just enjoy this party for a minute?” 

 “I am enjoying it. I've had three extra helpings of cake.” Anders relaxed slightly, bantering back. 

 “You’re wasting your beautiful robes slinking around back here.” Dorian argued. 

 “Oh so now I’m all dressed up like you, I’m beautiful?” Anders raised an eyebrow and targeted Dorian with a challenging smirk of his own, finding some more of his confidence again, “very cute.”  

“Nonsense, you’re always beautiful.” Dorian said, smiling and smouldering and flippantly taking all of Anders’ confidence with him as he did, “tonight, you look divine.”  

The collection of silently watching serving staff stifled obvious giggles. 

“And you’re wasting it. Come on, the spotlight awaits us!” Dorian turned, and pushed his way dramatically out the door, his own gorgeous black robes flowing gracefully out and whisping away behind him.

Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevesky

Last year, I read Anna Karenina by Tolstoy. I had mixed feelings about--it was at times incredible and moving and at numerous others, an enormous slog. Until a few weeks ago, it was the only Russian classic that I’d read.

Crime and Punishment was one of those books I’d heard of, of course, but it never came onto my radar as something I might want to read until I saw it featured as a “McGuffin” in The Flight Attendant on HBO (I got the novel from the library the other day and will probably be reviewing it in about a month). Then, as luck would have it, I stumbled onto Reddit’s “Classic Book Club” subreddit. They were staring off 2021 with C&P so I decided to join in thinking that reading one chapter per day shouldn’t be too difficult. Instead, the greater challenge was to limit myself to read only one chapter each day!

Spoilers for a 150+ year old classic~~

From the very beginning, I found myself pitying and relating to Rodya, the destitute former student who commits the eponymous crime and suffers its punishment. He’d been keeping to himself inside his (completely disgusting) apartment, reluctant to even run into his land-lady, and moping about without purpose. Despite his poverty, he gives money to the sickly wife of Marmeladov a stranger he meets at a pub, and despite his listlessness, he has actually been formulating a plan to murder and rob the pawnbroker to whom he has sold several possessions. 

Then, he does it. He actually does it! 🪓 🪓

And Dostoyevsky presents the reader with the question that is prominent through the novel: Is there good in Rodya’s heart? Or is he a deranged murderer?

To further complicate things, a police detective seems right on his tail thanks to Rodya’s recently published article about criminals and their motivations, and his sister, Dunia, is engaged to Luzhin, a rich, creepy, asshole, and being low-key stalked by Svidrigailov and even creepier asshole. All the while, Rodya goes back and forth about whether or not he should turn himself in or kill himself.

This novel was at times a thriller--so many tense moments between Rodya and the detective, Porfiry--and at others an intense character study and philosophical critique. Is the murder of one “louse”--as Rodya often characterizes his victim--justified if it could help hundreds of others?

That said, Rodya is not a great person and he spends most of the book irritable, sickly, or just plain rude to his friends and family. But when contrasted with the other monstrous men in this book: Marmeladov, whose alcoholism has impoverished and ruined his family; Luzhin who’s looking for a poor but pretty woman to “rescue” through marriage; and Svidrigailov who killed his wife and abused several others, is he that bad? Is he redeemable? Should he be redeemed and like Lazarus, be able to come back to life?

I enjoyed the comparisons between these objectively terrible men--and the contrasts with the more decent male characters, Detective Porfiry, and Rodya’s friend Razumihin. Yet, as a modern reader, I couldn’t help but bristle at the treatment of Rodya’s foil and eventual love interest, Sonia.

Marmeladov’s daughter from his first marriage, Sonia is forced to become a prostitute (a “yellow ticket” as it’s referred to in the book) in order to support her family. She is described as child-like and innocent in her devotion to her family (she is “technically” a young adult) yet the narrative presenters her as sinful as he. “The murder and the harlot” as they’re described shortly before Rodya implores her to go away with him, exclaiming: “we are both accursed, ... [because] you, too, have transgressed... you have laid hands on yourself, you have destroyed a life... your own (it’s all the same!).”

It’s never exactly clear why Sonia likes him, but without her support Rodya never would have been able to confess and--bafflingly--she follows him to Siberia where he is imprisoned. This angered me when I read it in the first part of the epilogue. Why would she follow this loser to the least hospitable part of Russia where he was sentenced to eight years in jail? 

But, to my surprise, C&P ends on an optimistic note. Unlike Petersburg, the rural village in Siberia is actually great for Sonia. She helps the prisoners and easily earns the love and respect she deserves from the community. And, thanks to her love, Rodya is able to see the “dawn of a new future, of a full resurrection into a new life.” In my opinion, he’s not exactly redeemed since he’s not all that contrite, but at the very least, he’s less unpleasant and open to changing himself and finding a way to repay Sonia.

This is just scratching the surface of everything that happened within this book. I would absolutely recommend it (here it is on Project Gutenberg). It is exciting, thought-provoking, and timeless; well-deserving of its status as a “classic.” 

Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoyevsky My rating: 4 of 5 stars

There are chance meetings with strangers that interest us from the first moment, before a word is spoken.

Wall Street, October 1929 FIRST HOPE FINANCIAL http://firsthope.biz Claud Cockburn, writing for the "Times of London" from New-York, described the irrational exuberance that gripped the nation just prior to the Great Depression. As Europe wallowed in post-war malaise, America seemed to have discovered a new economy, the secret of uninterrupted growth and prosperity, the fount of transforming technology: "The atmosphere of the great boom was savagely exciting, but there were times when a person with my European background felt alarmingly lonely. He would have liked to believe, as these people believed, in the eternal upswing of the big bull market or else to meet just one person with whom he might discuss some general doubts without being regarded as an imbecile or a person of deliberately evil intent - some kind of anarchist, perhaps." The greatest analysts with the most impeccable credentials and track records failed to predict the forthcoming crash and the unprecedented economic depression that followed it. Irving Fisher, a preeminent economist, who, according to his biographer-son, Irving Norton Fisher, lost the equivalent of $140 million in today's money in the crash, made a series of soothing predictions. On October 22 he uttered these avuncular statements: "Quotations have not caught up with real values as yet ... (There is) no cause for a slump ... The market has not been inflated but merely readjusted..." Even as the market convulsed on Black Thursday, October 24, 1929 and on Black Tuesday, October 29 - the New York Times wrote: "Rally at close cheers brokers, bankers optimistic". In an editorial on October 26, it blasted rabid speculators and compliant analysts: "We shall hear considerably less in the future of those newly invented conceptions of finance which revised the principles of political economy with a view solely to fitting the stock market's vagaries.'' But it ended thus: "(The Federal Reserve has) insured the soundness of the business situation when the speculative markets went on the rocks.'' Compare this to Alan Greenspan Congressional testimony this summer: "While bubbles that burst are scarcely benign, the consequences need not be catastrophic for the economy ... (The Depression was brought on by) ensuing failures of policy." Investors, their equity leveraged with bank and broker loans, crowded into stocks of exciting "new technologies", such as the radio and mass electrification. The bull market - especially in issues of public utilities - was fueled by "mergers, new groupings, combinations and good earnings" and by corporate purchasing for "employee stock funds". Cautionary voices - such as Paul Warburg, the influential banker, Roger Babson, the "Prophet of Loss" and Alexander Noyes, the eternal Cassandra from the New York Times - were derided. The number of brokerage accounts doubled between March 1927 and March 1929. When the market corrected by 8 percent between March 18-27 - following a Fed induced credit crunch and a series of mysterious closed-door sessions of the Fed's board - bankers rushed in. The New York Times reported: "Responsible bankers agree that stocks should now be supported, having reached a level that makes them attractive.'' By August, the market was up 35 percent on its March lows. But it reached a peak on September 3 and it was downhill since then. On October 19, five days before "Black Thursday", Business Week published this sanguine prognosis: "Now, of course, the crucial weaknesses of such periods - price inflation, heavy inventories, over-extension of commercial credit - are totally absent. The security market seems to be suffering only an attack of stock indigestion... There is additional reassurance in the fact that, should business show any further signs of fatigue, the banking system is in a good position now to administer any needed credit tonic from its excellent Reserve supply." The crash unfolded gradually. Black Thursday actually ended with an inspiring rally. Friday and Saturday - trading ceased only on Sundays - witnessed an upswing followed by mild profit taking. The market dropped 12.8 percent on Monday, with Winston Churchill watching from the visitors' gallery - incurring a loss of $10-14 billion. The Wall Street Journal warned naive investors: "Many are looking for technical corrective reactions from time to time, but do not expect these to disturb the upward trend for any prolonged period." The market plummeted another 11.7 percent the next day - though trading ended with an impressive rally from the lows. October 31 was a good day with a "vigorous, buoyant rally from bell to bell". Even Rockefeller joined the myriad buyers. Shares soared. It seemed that the worst was over. The New York Times was optimistic: "It is thought that stocks will become stabilized at their actual worth levels, some higher and some lower than the present ones, and that the selling prices will be guided in the immediate future by the worth of each particular security, based on its dividend record, earnings ability and prospects. Little is heard in Wall Street these days about 'putting stocks up." But it was not long before irate customers began blaming their stupendous losses on advice they received from their brokers. Alec Wilder, a songwriter in New York in 1929, interviewed by Stud Terkel in "Hard Times" four decades later, described this typical exchange with his money manager: "I knew something was terribly wrong because I heard bellboys, everybody, talking about the stock market. About six weeks before the Wall Street Crash, I persuaded my mother in Rochester to let me talk to our family adviser. I wanted to sell stock which had been left me by my father. He got very sentimental: 'Oh your father wouldn't have liked you to do that.' He was so persuasive, I said O.K. I could have sold it for $160,000. Four years later, I sold it for $4,000." Exhausted and numb from days of hectic trading and back office operations, the brokerage houses pressured the stock exchange to declare a two day trading holiday. Exchanges around North America followed suit. At first, the Fed refused to reduce the discount rate. "(There) was no change in financial conditions which the board thought called for its action." - though it did inject liquidity into the money market by purchasing government bonds. Then, it partially succumbed and reduced the New York discount rate, which, curiously, was 1 percent above the other Fed districts - by 1 percent. This was too little and too late. The market never recovered after November 1. Despite further reductions in the discount rate to 4 percent, it shed a whopping 89 percent in nominal terms when it hit bottom three years later. Everyone was duped. The rich were impoverished overnight. Small time margin traders - the forerunners of today's day traders - lost their shirts and much else besides. The New York Times: "Yesterday's market crash was one which largely affected rich men, institutions, investment trusts and others who participate in the market on a broad and intelligent scale. It was not the margin traders who were caught in the rush to sell, but the rich men of the country who are able to swing blocks of 5,000, 10,000, up to 100,000 shares of high-priced stocks. They went overboard with no more consideration than the little trader who was swept out on the first day of the market's upheaval, whose prices, even at their lowest of last Thursday, now look high by comparison ... To most of those who have been in the market it is all the more awe-inspiring because their financial history is limited to bull markets." Overseas - mainly European - selling was an important factor. Some conspiracy theorists, such as Webster Tarpley in his "British Financial Warfare", supported by contemporary reporting by the likes of "The Economist", went as far as writing: "When this Wall Street Bubble had reached gargantuan proportions in the autumn of 1929, (Lord) Montagu Norman (governor of the Bank of England 1920-1944) sharply (upped) the British bank rate, repatriating British hot money, and pulling the rug out from under the Wall Street speculators, thus deliberately and consciously imploding the US markets. This caused a violent depression in the United States and some other countries, with the collapse of financial markets and the contraction of production and employment. In 1929, Norman engineered a collapse by puncturing the bubble." The crash was, in large part, a reaction to a sharp reversal, starting in 1928, of the reflationary, "cheap money", policies of the Fed intended, as Adolph Miller of the Fed's Board of Governors told a Senate committee, "to bring down money rates, the call rate among them, because of the international importance the call rate had come to acquire. The purpose was to start an outflow of gold - to reverse the previous inflow of gold into this country (back to Britain)." But the Fed had already lost control of the speculative rush. The crash of 1929 was not without its Enrons and World.com's. Clarence Hatry and his associates admitted to forging the accounts of their investment group to show a fake net worth of $24 million British pounds - rather than the true picture of 19 billion in liabilities. This led to forced liquidation of Wall Street positions by harried British financiers. The collapse of Middle West Utilities, run by the energy tycoon, Samuel Insull, exposed a web of offshore holding companies whose only purpose was to hide losses and disguise leverage. The former president of NYSE, Richard Whitney was arrested for larceny. Analysts and commentators thought of the stock exchange as decoupled from the real economy. Only one tenth of the population was invested - compared to 40 percent today. "The World" wrote, with more than a bit of Schadenfreude: "The country has not suffered a catastrophe ... The American people ... has been gambling largely with the surplus of its astonishing prosper

Bottom Ten Three Houses Characters

I decided after a while that I couldn’t fulfill an anon request to do a top 10 list for the whole series, because it would overlap too much with ones I’ve already done - lord privilege is a thing that exists, and I’ve ranked those before - and because it’s really difficult to compare so many characters (~600 if we’re being thorough) across so many different games.  Instead I decided to go negative with it, although around 2/3rds of these ought to be totally uncontroversial at least in my corner of the fandom. Starting from the one I dislike least:

(Dis)honorable Mention: Anna, for putting in such a lackluster showing that she doesn’t deserve a spot on this list despite technically being in the playable cast. It’s not only the lack of supports, although that hurts, but also how obvious it is that the writers have no new material for her. Anna’s gimmick worked fined when she was an NPC and perhaps for the space of a single game as a playable character, and Fates originated the meta idea of making her paid DLC so you have to shell out real money to use her, but that’s the extent of her here too. As a unit she’s far from spectacular, and her paralogue isn’t even good for much but a ton of (mostly mediocre) drops and a tiny bit of context for that Pallardó guy from non-CF Chapter 13. Here’s a revolutionary idea: for the next original FE it might be good to have Anna back to being only a wacky dimension-hopping NPC shopkeeper.

#10 Constance - It pains me that she’s on this list, more than anyone else by far. I really wanted to like Constance, and at first glance she’s right up my alley as a haughty impoverished aristocrat coping awkwardly with her diminished status. I like the dark flier class she’s built around, and her default personality is an even louder pre-timeskip Ferdinand whom you know I love. However, it’s that “default personality” bit that sours me on her, because she’s got two of them. What could have been an interesting take on Constance’s struggles with identity and self-esteem in the wake of her family’s disgrace is presented in such an over-the-top comedic manner that it’s impossible to take her very seriously. It’s more reminiscent of FE13′s Noire than anything, and at least she has the excuse of a mother who performed dark magic experiments on her and fractured her psyche. Constance also supports Jeritza and yet somehow they do no more than lightly allude to their personality issues which is as much a missed opportunity as you can get with such a terrible character (see below), opting instead to try softening Jeritza with his fondness for roses. Lovely.

#9 Leonie - Fandom exaggerates her Jeralt fixation, although it does pop up at the worst times (see: her Byleth support right after his death). As I’m not very concerned with Byleth’s nonexistent feelings though this placement more comes down to general indifference. Leonie feels completely disconnected from the rest of the Deer, and although she’s a supposed reflection of the house’s more egalitarian bent there’s nothing connecting her to the politics or larger culture of the Alliance until you learn about her student loan debt. She really is best understood as a Jeralt fangirl first and foremost, which is why perhaps the most surprising thing about her is when reality comes knocking in her endings and it turns out she picked up her mentor’s vices as well. Jeralt himself would be even further down this list were he playable, but as he isn’t I’ll have to settle for side-eyeing all of his adoring fans. Which brings me to....

#8 Alois - Remember that dating sim Dream Daddy that people were talking about a few years ago? The one that willfully misunderstands what the term “daddy” means in gay male spaces to write fluffy dad joke-laden romances intended for a presumably not-gay audience? Alois is the spirit of that game personified as an FE character, which is not something I ever would have thought to know that I didn’t want. He’s got some funny lines here and there, but that’s the most you can say about him when otherwise he’s just passable midgame filler (of a unit type each house including the Wolves already has one of) standing in Jeralt’s imitation Greil shadow. I don’t even mind the platonic S support all that much because it’s still only Byleth, but it occurs to me that just about the only thing that would have made Alois memorable would be if his S support was romantic but he remained married to his wife. I can’t think of a time when this series has allowed the player to indulge in adultery, so even if it had been limited to an option for f!Byleth it would have been a fascinating option.

#7 Cyril - This isn’t about his devotion to Rhea, which is fully understandable given his circumstances. Nor is it about his performance as a unit which in my experience at least is actually rather good for a Donnel/Mozu-style villager archetype. No, what gets me is that he’s a self-righteous workaholic which makes for quite the grating personality trait. I understand that he finds meaning in his work and that he’s got some entertaining supports calling other characters to task for their terrible work ethics or ignorance of the lives of commoners (VW should have really dug more into his back-and-forth with Claude), but the lectures on not interrupting him or telling Byleth to get back to work are as tiresome as they are frequent. It’s petty I know, but one can only hope he grows out of it eventually. At least he doesn’t wear a pot on his head....

#6 Mercedes - Like Constance, she’s the type of character I wanted to like from the start. She’s pious pseudo-Catholic clergy, with a quirky thing with ghosts and some quiet lesbianism with her BFF that I can take or leave but that I know some people really enjoy (and also she’s bi-for-Byleth, but no one talks about that). Unfortunately as I touched on when talking about Marianne in my Top 10 characters list, Mercedes’s appealing points are sharply contrasted against her more annoying ones. The breathy voice acting I can mostly get used to, but her backstory is unnecessarily convoluted - three families and two flavors of evil adoptive father - and as is also true of Constance her association with Jeritza drags her down a fair bit. To this day I still have no idea what we’re meant to make of the Lamine siblings’ dynamic, but Mercedes’s eagerness to overlook her brother’s crimes and unrepentant bloodlust so she can coo over what a sweet boy he is deep down say some pretty odd things about her personal moral code. Maybe it was implied all along with the paranormal fascination that she’s not as orthodox as she appears to be, but the dissonance is real especially in CF where she gets a support line with Jeritza that tries to woobify him and affirms how much she loves him...and meanwhile in monastery exploration she’s wringing her hands over how much she hates the idea of fighting Faerghus and the church. There’s no through line here, and as justification for characters siding with Edelgard go this one is pretty flimsy.

#5 Gilbert - Similar to Cyril, I don’t dislike Gilbert for the reasons that most of the fandom does. Yes, he’s a crappy father, but as I’m pretty indifferent to Annette and to father-child bonding in general I can appreciate the fresh spin he places on the archetype of the devoted knight. In short, he’s a knight who wasn’t devoted and ran away from his duty, and his arc in AM is all about making up for his past failures both to his family and to his liege. This is an angle to knighthood FE doesn’t delve into often, and it makes him an explicit foil of Dedue as explored in their supports. The reason that Gilbert is on this list though in fact has more to do with that opposition, because I am painfully aware that had AM not killed off Dedue by default in service of self-insert romance Gilbert would not have had to be scripted as Dedue’s replacement both as a unit and as a retainer figure. It’s not his “fault” of course, insofar as one can ever blame fictional characters for the actions of their writers, but whenever I’m running AM and have to take those randomized supply run quests from Gilbert instead of the route’s actual retainer I’m reminded of how we were robbed of power couple Dimidue (in AM anyway - CF of all routes delivers on this point). Gilbert could have been father of the year to Annette and freely given Byleth his (grand)daddy dick and it still wouldn’t overwrite the fundamental problem that Byleth screwed over all three AM-exclusive characters in different ways. As to that, well...look at #1.

#4 Raphael - It’s hard to describe just how much wasted potential there is to this guy. Along with Ignatz and Leonie he could have illustrated the greater social mobility of the Alliance and the increased opportunities non-nobles enjoy there, but all three are mostly side characters. He’s repeatedly positive in the face of tragedy and remains motivated by his love for his remaining family, but 90% of his dialogue revolves around either eating or training to the point that he’s arguably the closest FE16 comes to gimmick character writing (something almost every FE is guilty of, but that has come under heavy scrutiny in recent years because of how much Awakening and Fates used it). He has a sweet friendship with Ignatz with even a bit of chemistry that sits in good company with the kind of simply affability he has with almost everyone he supports, but they have a no homo ending involving one of the game’s eternally offscreen characters. He supports Dimitri, but the bara content is thin on the ground and their line stands out as easily the least substantial of the house leaders’ cross-house supports. Even as a unit he’s lackluster, in the same repetitive category as Alois with nothing that makes him really stand out from the other axe-and-brawling guys. Highest HP growth in the game...whee. I’ve seen arguments that Raphael’s simplicity is the source of his charm, and while I can sort of see that he feels like he belongs in a game like the GBA or Tellius titles where characters have a much smaller amount of overall content to their name. In a game like Three Houses the sheer torrent of lines about food and training wear thin quickly.

#3 Bernadetta - see #8 here. To sum up, she’s annoying, her sex appeal falls flat with me and is frankly just kind of confusing, it bugs me that a significant portion of the Ferdibert fandom headcanons her as Hubert’s bestie when the man clearly does not do besties, and the most positive thing I can think to say about is that based on her habit of befriending known murderers among other things she might be a bit of a sociopath. That’s not very flattering, but at least it’s somewhat interesting. Oh yeah, and Edelgard setting her on fire at the Gronder rematch is good for a meme although I suppose that isn’t technically attributable to Bernadetta.

#2 Jeritza - Jeritza sucks. Everyone, apart from the small number of fans into Bylitza for some reason, is aware that he sucks. He’s a bloodthirsty serial killer we’re meant to like because he killed his father to protect his sister and also because he likes ice cream and kittens...and because he’s clearly mentally ill in some way and Edelgard is weaponizing his illness for her war which means all the murder is okay, I guess. Jeritza is like FE7 Karel if he was somewhat important to the plot and that instead of a redemption arc between games he got Karla and some other characters swearing that he’s really sweet deep down and also he can romance the male self-insert - yay. I love the line of thinking sometimes espoused in anti circles that M/M Bylitza is the only non-Problematic™ Byleth ship because he’s their only gay romantic S rank partner who’s not one of their students, a loli, or Rhea who is obviously the most evil character in the game. As I’ve mentioned above Jeritza also makes other characters he supports worse by association, although he’s not quite as bad in that regard as #1. Do I even need to bring up the painfully affected voice acting? It’s ironic that the vocal director for the English localization turns in unquestionably the worst performance among the named cast, and I have to assume he picked the role for himself solely because he sounds like an imposing Death Knight and not because his voice is at all suited to the troubled twunk underneath the armor. Just about the only thing that would have salvaged Jeritza for me would be if he and Hubert got to have an epic competition to determine once and for all which of them is more evil. Hubert would wipe the floor with this poser.

#1 Byleth - see here at the bottom. They fail as a self-insert, they fail to be a properly realized character even more than previous Avatars, they damage other characterizations and arcs all over the place, and Three Houses overall would have been vastly improved if they didn’t exist or at least weren’t the PoV character. In that previous post I listed just two reasons why I still prefer Byleth to Robin as an Avatar, one being that their significance to the plot is set up before the game even begins and the other being that their lack of a voice makes f!Byleth a less obtrusive presence when it came time for me to have her S rank all the guys to fill out the support log...not enough to where I could treat her as a self-insert, but any amount helps. I do however have to add a third small bit of praise for Byleth, in that they apparently drive antis up the wall for the most asinine of reasons which is always entertaining to witness. I recall when this game’s school setting was first revealed that everyone in the fandom nodded their heads and made the easy prediction that there would be teacher/student sex because that’s just how FE rolls, but somehow still there’s outrage over it. Even so, Byleth is horrible by every significant parameter, and it’s a shame we’ll only be able to imagine what FE16 would have been like had the developers not felt the need to write the whole thing around an Avatar.