#imagine naming THE protagonist after himself??

[dearmyloveleys]

@braincell-45pm uk what… I love your brain

[miharuki]

𝖄𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖁𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖓 𝕻𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖈𝖊 𝖃 𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗 (𝕱𝖊𝖒)

You were inside an otome game, an old classic that you found while searching for games of the same genre.

Imagine your surprise when you realized you were inside the otome game "My Pure Elegant Love," a medieval-style otome game with nobles, kings, and knights. You had just woken up, finding yourself as the daughter of a duke, any duke. Perhaps for a brief moment, you thought you could have reincarnated as Amelie, the protagonist of this game, but you were far from it.

You quickly befriended Amélie; her sweetness and gentleness were at least forced, but you knew that was the vibe of the game. Perhaps being the daughter of a duke, you could meet other characters, like Claude, the noble and best friend of Amélie in the plot and one of the favorite characters of the small group that played this forgotten game, damn it.

There was also Nathan, one of the strongest and most talented knights in the plot. We can't forget about Kalisto, the protagonist's younger brother who had a crush on her, Luka, one of the princes and also a romantic partner in the plot, as well as the wizard Azrael, and the first Duke Eros, all romantic interests of the protagonist.

Being the daughter of a simple duke, you knew you wouldn't have a chance with those of high status like Luka, the first prince. You weren't the protagonist, but you couldn't help but envy her. Perhaps because she was receiving love from handsome boys? Or perhaps because even in this life, in this game, you weren't loved by your family. You thought that being the daughter of a duke would give you some privileges, but oh, how wrong you were. Neglected by your parents, hated by the romantic interests of the protagonist, and simply having a bad reputation.

You thought you were becoming friends with Claude and that you might even win his love, but that was thrown out the window when they all decided to embarrass you at the prince's luxurious party. You didn't know that wearing a dress that Luka himself gave you would make you the target of everyone's ridicule.

"How could you do this, [name]?" How could you? You didn't do anything wrong! There, in front of the stairs with the prince behind her, was the protagonist, wearing the same dress as yours, but prettier. Perhaps because her perfect protagonist's body and beauty were helping her.

All the protagonist's romantic interests, including the ones you liked on the other side of the screen, were looking at you with anger, perhaps even smiling as if it were planned by them, by all of them, including his highness, who at first seemed not to like you, treating you even like a servant. You envy how they were all around that bitch, comforting her, as if you were the villain, which you never were.

Everyone talked, laughed, and even mocked. "I can't believe Miss Amélie has a friend like that!" You heard a lady saying, looking down. Not even your parents cared about you, at this point, you're probably being disowned by the family.

With tears on your face, after trying to explain the misunderstanding to everyone, after being slapped by his highness and the protagonist, you felt like crap. Pulling on the dress, you turned and ran out of the hall, opening the doors brutally. You couldn't stay in that room anymore, not when everyone was now looking at you with hatred.

Unaware, you came across a balcony, hearing footsteps coming. You were scared; the prince might have sent guards after you after you "lied" to everyone while explaining.

With all your strength, you push through the balcony fence, and as you're about to jump, someone forcefully opens the doors, startling you and causing you to slip, now falling to the ground. Your tears are now stronger, groaning in pain as you try to get up.

It was with pain, dirt, and tears that you ended up behind a bush. You couldn't take it anymore; you were shaking from the cold, crying, your makeup smudged, your hair dirty and messy, your "copied" dress dirty and torn. You've never felt so worthless before.

You cried as if you were carrying all the burdens, thinking about how the romantic pairs and the protagonist were not the best; in fact, they were the worst.

Feeling a headache, you sit down, trying to breathe well and calm down as you think, "And now?"

"What's a maiden doing crying in the middle of the woods?" Looking back, you noticed someone coming, a boy. Turning your head forward, you try to wipe away the tears. You don't like anyone seeing you cry; crying is for weak people.

Then you felt something being thrown over you, a thick, large coat. Lifting your head, you now look at the boy in front of you. His melodic and calm voice speaks as he gently crouches in front of you.

"Can you tell me, fair lady?"

You sobbed, trying not to cry, mocking the nickname the boy gave you.

"Fair lady? The way I am right now, I'm barely even a girl, let alone fair or a lady," you say as you use your own dress to clean up the mess of makeup and tears.

"I don't think that," the boy continues to clean as he speaks. "To be honest, I think you're even more beautiful. You just can't see it."

The boy's hands lift your stained and dirty face. You look and notice the looks he's giving, but they're not directed at the protagonist like everyone else's; they're for you.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" His calm and concerned eyes are looking at you, waiting for your response.

You just look aside before sighing. It's better than nothing.

"His Highness, the prince, had given me a dress as a gift... to wear at the ball today, but my friend - no, Miss Amélie was wearing the same one. Some of her friends started mocking me for trying to 'copy' the girl, but when I tried to explain, His Highness said he would never give me a gift in his life, especially knowing that his 'friend' Amélie would be wearing it today," you almost can't finish without starting to cry again, sobbing as you try to explain.

"They all planned to humiliate me in front of everyone, and His Highness still insists that I'm lying!" You say, already crying again, not noticing the arms going around you. You only notice when you feel being embraced by the boy as you cling to him, crying and sobbing.

"My dear, they don't deserve your kindness or your presence. What they did was extremely awful to a lady like you," the boy says as he strokes your hair and back, comforting you, as you've always wished to be.

You were clinging to the boy, feeling betrayed, feeling used. You didn't even notice the boy raising his hand to someone behind you, to someone dressed in black, a gentleman, but not the prince's gentleman, oh no, not that traitor.

You didn't even realize how the castle was beginning to stir.

"Let's go, I'll take you somewhere else. You might end up getting sick staying here," he says as he watches you cling to him. He could feel your warmth, you were starting to get sick from crying so much. Nomura's heart was breaking at the thought of you falling ill.

"Are you okay with this, miss?" The boy asks before you nod in agreement. Nomura gets ready and picks you up bridal-style, using his own coat that was on top of you as a blanket to protect you as he carried you to his own carriage.

Watching as you had already fainted from crying, he held you gently as the carriage headed towards his castle, leaving behind an important part of the game that was happening, unaware that the game's villain was now holding you firmly.

Do I do a part 2?

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Sandra Newman’s “Julia”

The first chapter of Orwell's Nineteen Eighty-Four has a fantastic joke that nearly everyone misses: when Julia, Winston Smith's love interest, is introduced, she has oily hands and a giant wrench, which she uses in her "mechanical job on one of the novel-writing machines":

https://gutenberg.net.au/ebooks01/0100021.txt

That line just kills me every time I re-read the book – Orwell, a novelist, writing a dystopian future in which novels are written by giant, clanking mechanisms. Later on, when Winston and Julia begin their illicit affair, we get more detail:

She could describe the whole process of composing a novel, from the general directive issued by the Planning Committee down to the final touching-up by the Rewrite Squad. But she was not interested in the finished product. She 'didn't much care for reading,' she said. Books were just a commodity that had to be produced, like jam or bootlaces.

I always assumed Orwell was subtweeting his publishers and editors here, and you can only imagine that the editor who asked Orwell to tweak the 1984 manuscript must have felt an uncomfortable parallel between their requests and the notional Planning Committee and Rewrite Squad at the Ministry of Truth.

I first read 1984 in the early winter of, well, 1984, when I was thirteen years old. I was on a family trip that included as visit to my relatives in Leningrad, and the novel made a significant impact on me. I immediately connected it to the canon of dystopian science fiction that I was already avidly consuming, and to the geopolitics of a world that seemed on the brink of nuclear devastation. I also connected it to my own hopes for the nascent field of personal computing, which I'd gotten an early start on, when my father – then a computer science student – started bringing home dumb terminals and acoustic couplers from his university in the mid-1970s. Orwell crystallized my nascent horror at the oppressive uses of technology (such as the automated Mutually Assured Destruction nuclear systems that haunted my nightmares) and my dreams of the better worlds we could have with computers.

It's not an overstatement to say that the rest of my life has been about this tension. It's no coincidence that I wrote a series of "Little Brother" novels whose protagonist calls himself w1n5t0n:

https://craphound.com/littlebrother/Cory_Doctorow_-_Little_Brother.htm

I didn't stop with Orwell, of course. I wrote a whole series of widely read, award-winning stories with the same titles as famous sf tales, starting with "Anda's Game" ("Ender's Game"):

https://www.salon.com/2004/11/15/andas_game/

And "I, Robot":

https://craphound.com/overclocked/Cory_Doctorow_-_Overclocked_-_I_Robot.html

"The Martian Chronicles":

https://escapepod.org/2019/10/03/escape-pod-700-martian-chronicles-part-1/

"True Names":

https://archive.org/details/TrueNames

"The Man Who Sold the Moon":

https://memex.craphound.com/2015/05/22/the-man-who-sold-the-moon/

and "The Brave Little Toaster":

https://archive.org/details/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_212

Writing stories about other stories that you hate or love or just can't get out of your head is a very old and important literary tradition. As EL Doctorow (no relation) writes in his essay "Genesis," the Hebrews stole their Genesis story from the Babylonians, rewriting it to their specifications:

https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/41520/creationists-by-e-l-doctorow/

As my "famous title" stories and Little Brother books show, this work needn't be confined to antiquity. Modern copyright may be draconian, but it contains exceptions ("fair use" in the US, "fair dealing" in many other places) that allow for this kind of creative reworking. One of the most important fair use cases concerns The Wind Done Gone, Alice Randall's 2001 retelling of Margaret Mitchell's Gone With the Wind from the perspective of the enslaved characters, which was judged to be fair use after Mitchell's heirs tried to censor the book:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Suntrust_Bank_v._Houghton_Mifflin_Co.

In ruling for Randall, the Eleventh Circuit Court of Appeals emphasized that she had "fully employed those conscripted elements from Gone With the Wind to make war against it." Randall used several of Mitchell's most famous lines, "but vest[ed] them with a completely new significance":

https://law.justia.com/cases/federal/appellate-courts/F3/268/1257/608446/

The Wind Done Gone is an excellent book, and both its text and its legal controversy kept springing to mind as I read Sandra Newman's wonderful novel Julia, which retells 1984 from the perspective of Julia, she of the oily hands the novel-writing machine:

https://www.harpercollins.com/products/julia-sandra-newman?variant=41467936636962

Julia is the kind of fanfic that I love, in the tradition of both Wind Done gone and Rosenkrantz and Gildenstern Are Dead, in which a follow-on author takes on the original author's throwaway world-building with deadly seriousness, elucidating the weird implications and buried subtexts of all the stuff and people moving around in the wings and background of the original.

For Newman, the starting point here is Julia, an enigmatic lover who comes to Winston with all kinds of rebellious secrets – tradecraft for planning and executing dirty little assignations and acquiring black market goods. Julia embodies a common contradiction in the depiction of young women (she is some twenty years younger than Winston): on the one hand, she is a "native" of the world, while Winston is a late arrival, carrying around all his "oldthink" baggage that leaves him perennially baffled, terrified and angry; on the other hand, she's a naive "girl," who "doesn't much care for reading," and lacks the intellectual curiosity that propels Winston through the text.

This contradiction is the cleavage line that Newman drives her chisel into, fracturing Orwell's world in useful, fascinating, engrossing ways. For Winston, the world of 1984 is totalitarian: the Party knows all, controls all and misses nothing. To merely think a disloyal thought is to be doomed, because the omnipotent, omniscient, and omnicompetent Party will sense the thought and mark you for torture and "vaporization."

Orwell's readers experience all of 1984 through Winston's eyes and are encouraged to trust his assessment of his situation. But Newman brings in a second point of view, that of Julia, who is indeed far more worldly than Winston. But that's not because she's younger than him – it's because she's more provincial. Julia, we learn, grew up outside of the Home Counties, where the revolution was incomplete and where dissidents – like her parents – were sent into exile. Julia has experienced the periphery of the Party's power, the places where it is frayed and incomplete. For Julia, the Party may be ruthless and powerful, but it's hardly omnicompetent. Indeed, it's rather fumbling.

Which makes sense. After all, if we take Winston at his word and assume that every disloyal citizen of Oceania is arrested, tortured and murdered, where would that leave Oceania? Even Kim Jong Un can't murder everyone who hates him, or he'd get awfully lonely, and then awfully hungry.

Through Julia's eyes, we experience Oceania as a paranoid autocracy, corrupt and twitchy. We witness the obvious corollary of a culture of denunciation and arrest: the ruling Party of such an institution must be riddled with internecine struggle and backstabbing, to the point of paralyzed dysfunction. The Orwellian trick of switching from being at war with Eastasia to Eurasia and back again is actually driven by real military setbacks – not just faked battles designed to stir up patriotic fervor. The Party doesn't merely claim to be under assault from internal and external enemies – it actually is.

Julia is also perfectly positioned to uncover the vast blank spots in Winston's supposed intellectual curiosity, all the questions he doesn't ask – about her, about the Party, and about the world. I love this trope and used it myself, in Attack Surface, the third "Little Brother" book, which is told from the point of view of Marcus's frenemy Masha:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250757531/attacksurface

Through Julia, we come to understand the seemingly omniscient, omnipotent Party as fumbling sadists. The Thought Police are like MI5, an Island of Misfit Toys where the paranoid, the stupid, the vicious and the thuggish come together to ruin the lives of thousands, in such a chaotic and pointless manner that their victims find themselves spinning devastatingly clever explanations for their behavior:

https://www.bbc.co.uk/blogs/adamcurtis/entries/3662a707-0af9-3149-963f-47bea720b460

And, as with Nineteen Eighty-Four, Julia is a first-rate novel, expertly plotted, with fantastic, nail-biting suspense and many smart turns and clever phrases. Newman is doing Orwell, and, at times, outdoing him. In her hands, Orwell – like Winston – is revealed as a kind of overly credulous romantic who can't believe that anyone as obviously stupid and deranged as the state's representatives could be kicking his ass so very thoroughly.

This was, in many ways, the defining trauma and problem of Orwell's life, from his origin story, in which he is shot through the throat by a fascist: sniper during the Spanish Civil War:

https://www.rjgeib.com/thoughts/soldiers/george-orwell-shot.html

To his final days, when he developed a foolish crush on a British state spy and tried to impress her by turning his erstwhile comrades in to her:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Orwell%27s_list

Newman's feminist retelling of Orwell is as much about puncturing the myth of male competence as it is about revealing the inner life, agency, and personhood of swooning love-interests. As someone who loves Orwell – but not unconditionally – I was moved, impressed, and delighted by Julia.

Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/09/28/novel-writing-machines/#fanfic

[hannieehaee]

Svt member jerking off to another members gf

18+ / mdi

another member jacking off to you

content: established relationship, smut, afab reader, masturbation, mentions of a member catching you nude/having sex on accident, mentions of your or a member catching another member masturbating, etc.

wc: 781

a/n: i wasnt sure whether to write this from the pov of the member masturbating or the member who has a gf's pov, so i just went for the second one ... anyways i think irl theyd be genuinely angry at this lol but i decided to make it more lighthearted and crack-ish. hope u enjoy<3

masterlist

seungcheol -

he'd be mad as shit lmao. if he ever caught wind of (or even worse, caught) one of his members touching themselves with you in mind, all hell would break loose. he didnt care if it was all in their imagination, he'd go on a rampage to make sure none of them ever even looked your way ever again.

jeonghan -

he's a lil weird so i think he would do that little gremlin laugh he does and find some type of sick pride in knowing that even though you were his and only his, you had his friends wanting you so bad they had to jack off to the thought of you.

joshua -

just cocky about it. oh yeah? you want his girlfriend? too bad! she's well taken care of by her boyfriend joshua. no one could ever have you but him. it'd feed his ego knowing others wanted you but you'd never even so much as look their way as long as you had joshua.

jun -

just whiny about it. he knew his brothers quite well so he wouldnt think of it too deeply into it, knowing that you were quite pretty and probably had the affections of many men. he'd still be bothered by it, but not enough to actually have much of a reaction.

soonyoung -

this would activate an overly touchy side of him (even more than usual), refusing to leave your side (or stop fucking you at every given moment) in order to assert his dominance towards any member who dared look at you in anything other than a platonic way. somehow you'd also have to end up reassuring him that you like him and him only lmao.

wonwoo -

uncharacteristically cocky about it. but also would turn a little more possessive after finding out one of his members had you in mind while jacking off. even if you were unaware of what had happened, he'd fuck you extra hard for the next few days in order to let you (and everyone else) know how much you were his and only his.

jihoon -

would also turn super possessive at the situation. that, plus genuinely annoyed lol. he took your sex life and relationship to be something very private, so knowing that one of his member's even pictured you in that context would have him huffing and puffing his chest in annoyance. he'd be all over you for a while just to reassure himself that you were no one else's but his.

seokmin -

he'd feel kinda sad for some reason (?) like he would feel so weird at knowing you were in someone else's mind in such a way, specially since it was a friend of his. he'd feel sad for them knowing they could never have you, but also annoyed knowing other people wanted you in ways only he should ever want you.

mingyu -

would whine and pout and maybe even get genuinely annoyed. it was kind of crossing a boundary for his member to literally moan out his s/o's name while jerking off. why were you even on their mind in the first place? you were his and his only. he'd have to confront them and give them a reality check in the nicest way he could.

minghao -

he'd feel a little weird about it, wondering why jack off to you of all people. then he'd reason that you were the prettiest thing he'd ever laid eyes on and try to be a little more understanding. he'd maybe relate this to somewhat of a parasocial relationship, knowing it would never be mutual attraction between you and his member.

seungkwan -

absolutely scandalized and annoyed. why in all hell was his member whining out your name? why not find literally anyone else to be the protagonist of their fantasies? you were taken in every sense of the world, and even mere thoughts of you belonged to seungkwan and seungkwan only.

vernon -

can't really help what makes you horny, he'd think with a shrug. that's as far as that thought would go. yeah, sure, it was kinda weird that one of his friends was thinking about you in that context, but imagination is only imagination. nothing was actually happening, so it wouldnt really make him think too much of it.

chan -

frustrated more than anything. he already shared everything of his with his members. what do you mean he now had to share you with them? no. simply unacceptable. would curse and nag at whoever thought it was okay to even look at you in any way other than innocent. he'd become super possessive of you after that, showing off how much you were his to all his members.

[jymwahuwu]

mr reca with overstimulation but it's just you and him going over a certain scene over and over again because he wants the actor to be..more exhausted. it's you, you're the poor actor who has to keep going and keeps getting overstimulated until your brain is void of thoughts..

It's delicious...but let me tell you, more than just an over-the-top orgasm, he's going to consider this movie a masterpiece...😌💦💖

cw: yandere, dub-con, penetrative sex, humiliation (release your orgasm for the whole universe to see), ooc because the official plot has not been released yet

okay Imagine that you are an unknown actor struggling in the entertainment industry in the entire universe, with the lowest remuneration. However, one day Mr. Reca visited you and invited you to play the lead role in the new movie.

Mr. Reca goes on and on about how he has watched every TV show, movie, and commercial that you have appeared in - you usually only appeared for a few minutes, or even a few seconds. "You are the born protagonist", "the actor born for my movie". Those are his evaluations of you. You were flattered and panicked, avoiding his passionate gaze. Are you really that outstanding? Isn't that too much…? Or is he just trying to scam you and plan a joint venture to make a movie? Unexpectedly, he blushed and took out the script and movie contract. Written on the screen was the work content, the name of the movie… and the salary was million credits.

Did you read it wrong? You blinked and picked up the contract. How much?

You studied the script and took the job. The script describes a lot of sex scenes, but this is your only chance to play the lead role. And Mr. Reca promised that this is not a simple pornographic movie ("It's a philosophical movie. A masterpiece of mine." He corrected with some anger.) To provide people with entertainment… So, you agreed.

After filming officially starts, you will know that the salary is really worthy of the content of the work. Mr. Reca has unusually high standards for you, requiring every smile, frown, and sigh of yours to conform to the perfect idea in his mind. Especially those sex scenes. He claimed that he wanted to express the plight and emptiness of mankind through experimental lens language… You pouted and gibbered, spreading your legs in the constructed space jungle, and being adjusted by the director himself. The director's cock spreads your inexperienced spasming walls, prying you open and closed like a breath. The photographer focused on taking these shots. You were washed to a pulp by the pleasure of your constant orgasms.

"No - no, I said, this is not the feeling. You should show a look of indifference and arrogance." Mr. Reca squeezed out these words through his teeth. If it didn't interfere with the filming, this director would spank you.

You respond helplessly. "I-I can't…"

"Huh? How can you say such a thing as an actor!" Mr. Reca accused, holding your hips and plowing faster, his testicles slapping against the wet flesh in the middle of your legs. You rolled your eyes in the surge of bliss but then forced yourself to focus, screaming. "I-I'll try, I'm so sorry…!!"

"Yeah, be good now." He said in a mocking tone. "You are always like this. You need others to push you and stimulate your potential."

Listen to the slight jeers among the staff. You hide your face in despair. "Hey? What are you doing? The protagonist has to face the camera." The director takes your hands and back and makes your face face the camera without any reservations.

What happened next:

After the filming of the film was completed, Mr. Reca was quite satisfied. Film bureaus on various planets reviewed the film, and the film bureaus were still arranging a release date.

Under his supervision, you signed a contract for the next 10 films.

You stammered when he said he would sell the movie to the IPC streaming platform so the whole universe could see your orgasm.

[its-not-a-pen]

eunuch rating system: part 2 electric boogaloo! part 1 based on the original post by @welcometothejianghu wherein i continue to rate REAL historical chinese eunuchs! this is a non-exhaustive list and there's honestly no metric to it. i just pick the guys i like.

Han Dynasty (yes, again. the Han was like 400 years long lol) Cao Teng was a pretty normal guy whose biggest claim to fame is his extremely infamous grandson, Cao Cao. Because of this, Cao Teng is the only enunch in chinese history to get a royal title; Emperor Gao of Wei, which was granted posthumerously through Cao Cao’s grandson Cao Rui.

Cao Teng was a good judge of character who promoted a bunch of famous people, one of whom was a guy who had even tried to impeach him previously. After 30 years of service, he retired, got married, and adopted a son. 

i decided to put him on the list because the common perception of the eunuch is a "mutilated" man living a lonely, unfulfilled life. What is often left out is they are highly motivated people who excel at their jobs, exert a lot of influence, and are able to have families and leave a legacy.

the majority of eunuchs came from poor families, and serving at the palace gave them an opportunity to obtain wealth, status and an education they would otherwise never have access to. it does require an unimaginably painful sacrifice, but that shouldn't be the only thing that defines them.

Cao Teng's hard work benefited his entire clan and lifted them out of poverty. But there was a complex interplay between him being a venerable ancestor, and someone marked by the stigma of castration. I imagine there was something bittersweet here for Cao Teng, knowing that he had done so much for his family, but they would rather he didn't exist.

Cao Cao was able to become a prime minister because of the wealth, connections, and education earned by his grandfather. At the same time, he appeared to resent him. The source of his ancestory was a sore spot which was repeatedly brought up by his political enemies to discredit him, something he never commented directly on or attempted to defend.

ming dynasty

MAKE SOME FUCKING NOISE FOR THE COOLEST PERSON IN THE MING DYNASTY!!!! actually scratch that, MAKE SOME FUCKING NOISE FOR THE COOLEST PERSON IN CHINESE HISTORY, PERIOD.

Zheng He was born Ma He to muslims living in Yunan, which was ruled by Mongols at the time. He was captured by the Ming army between the age of 10-14, castrated, and given to the young Yongle Emperor as a servant. Incredibly enough, he was like "no hard feelings mate" and went on to work in EVERY SINGLE JOB. and kick absolute ass in ALL OF THEM. he started out as a soldier on the northern frontier (the toughest place to serve, that was where all the border conflicts were) and fought in several campaigns with the future emperor, distinguishing himself and earning the emperor's trust.

I originally had him drawn in a more stereotypically "heroic" pose, by all accounts he was a tough guy who "walked like a tiger", and while the main purpose of the Ming voyages were diplomatic, he didn't shy away from violence. (he fought PIRATES. like a fucking shonen protagonist). in the end i decided to go with a picture that showcases less celebrated but equally important leadership qualities like curiosity, patience and discipline. I also want to point out that he wasn't the only eunuch on the trip, around half of the commanding officers were also eunuchs. He wasn't an exception to the rule but rather the face of a largely ignored majority; complicated people who were making the most of a difficult job.

Notes: the giraffe he brought back didn't have a name (at least not on record), but the Ming thought it was a qilin (kinda like a chinese unicorn) and i thought that would be an adorable name for a giraffe.

Ming Dynasty

i feel like we've had too much nuance, so lets finish this list off with a properly corrupt and scheming enunch! Wei Zhongxian castrated himself at age 21 to escape his gambling debts, and it unleashed his potiential like Rock Lee removing his leg weights. once inside the palace, he started out as a minor kitchen hand but managed to hustle his way to being the right hand of the emperor, who was an indifferent ruler that prefered woodworking to running a country. for this reason, I decided to make him a ventriloquist dummy.

Wei Zhongxian then proceeded to go on an extravagant and over-compensating ego trip. actually, it was more like a 40-year-long, olympic worthy, ego-long jump. things came to a terrible end when he tried to stage a coup (it failed and he decided not to hang around the capital, and go hang on some rafters instead). by then, decades of corruption had weakened the Ming, the emperor's only son got exploded in horrible incident that also wiped out most of the Ming Dynasty munitions--and what's this? here comes the Qing Dynasty with a steel chair!!!! notes: I decided to make Wei Zhongxian's design a human version of my cat, because he is also an incredibly devious but rather low-wisdom individial.

[anthurak]

I’ve been thinking recently about how a key aspect of Steven Universe is that Steven is placed in the narrative position of what might normally be filled by a standard fantasy-hero-shounen-protagonist-guy, while EVERYTHING about Steven as a character is all about going in basically the exact OPPOSITE direction of that archetype. To the point where the one time he actually TRIES acting like some typical shounen-protag to solve his problems in Future, it’s presented as this gross, twisted perversion of his character that goes horribly, HORRIBLY wrong. Basically, the show makes it clear that Steven trying to act like your standard ‘cool, badass anime hero guy’ is very much a BAD and WRONG thing. Like in anime terms, Steven is essentially a Magical Girl placed in a position that was meant for a Shounen Hero. Or in a more specific reference building off of the show’s numerous references to Dragon Ball Z, Steven essentially represents a take on Gohan who’s kindness and pacifism are ultimately allowed to be presented and emphasized as a strength rather than a weakness.

Yet the flipside of all this is that even in their few appearances, has anyone else noticed that Stevonnie shows quite a few of these ‘cool, badass anime hero guy’ traits? They have a cool sword, they race cars, they fight space battles in a starfighter, they get badass fight scenes like getting to 1v1 Jasper and get to say cool one-liners. And the funny thing is, NONE of these are ever presented as somehow ‘wrong’ for the character. Heck, going off of the same references to Dragon Ball Z, Stevonnie has a bunch of design similarities to Future Trunks of all characters, one of THE iconic ‘cool, badass anime hero guys’.

And I think that’s really interesting.

Like in-universe, it says some interesting things about how Fusion works. That Steven himself trying to act like a cool, badass anime hero guy is a BAD thing because it leads him to start rejecting many of the core aspects of who he is as a person, namely his kindness and empathy.

Whereas Stevonnie is their OWN person, distinct from Steven and can exhibit these traits just fine because they clearly got them from Connie. They clearly haven’t abandoned or rejected any of the core aspects of Steven such as his kindness and empathy, they just ALSO have all this other stuff from Connie as well and can exhibit these traits without actually losing anything. They are after all, everything from Steven and Connie and more.

And narratively, I think it makes for a fun inversion. Steven represents this big subversive take on the typical fantasy hero archetype by being this young BOY with a big, heroic destiny who is defined by his kindness, empathy, emotions, a general disdain for solving problems through fighting and generally rejecting the typical ‘cool, badass, anime hero guy’ traits.

So it’s actually rather fitting that it is the non-binary, intersex, very-much-NOT-cisgender-male, fusion Stevonnie who ends up getting to do more traditional ‘cool, badass, anime hero guy’ stuff. Who in turn got much of those traits NOT from Steven, but from his best-friend/partner/girlfriend Connie.

And I just think that’s pretty cool, you know? Particularly when imagining a permafused Stevonnie. Like I think its fun to imagine an alternate take on the later seasons of the show, or just post-series, with a permafused Stevonnie doing more traditional anime-protagonist stuff that would otherwise feel out of place with Steven, but doesn’t feel out of place with them.

For example, Steven never went through any kind of big ‘training arc’ like so many anime heroes because that just doesn’t fit who he is. Steven is not a ‘fighter’, he always tries to talk things out before things turn to combat. So it makes sense that he wouldn’t directly pursue training to become a better fighter on his own.

But Connie DID. And of course that wasn’t presented in and of itself a bad thing. Which as an aside, is interesting for Steven as his joining was more to support Connie rather being presented as something he needed to do himself.

And speaking of fighting, this is another place where the differences between Steven and Connie make Stevonnie in turn all the more INTERESTING. Because whereas Steven isn’t a fighter, Connie very much IS. The symbolic sword to Steven’s shield.

Now where this gets interesting is that in practice, Connie generally follows Steven’s lead. We see a number of instances wherein Connie likely wants to or even is full-on about to launch into a fight, but backs down because Steven wants to talk things out. Connie may be a fighter, but she also generally defers to Steven.

But what happens when these two aspects are coexisting in the same person? What happens when Connie’s preference towards fighting isn’t deferring to Steven’s preference towards non-violence, but is rather exhibited right alongside it? And because of that is seen by Stevonnie as a much more valid option?

What does Stevonnie’s response to conflict look like when they’re much more of a fighter like Connie, while still retaining Steven’s intrinsic kindness and empathy?

Personally, I imagine Stevonnie actually being a fair bit like Ruby Rose, ie; someone who often tries to talk things out, while also not hesitating to jump into a fight if people aren’t willing to negotiate. Perhaps even reading the situation/people enough to get a preemptive strike off.

And all that is just one aspect of what I think makes Stevonnie so compelling as a character.

[beckyninja]

The Dragon

Pairing: Salamander x FemOC (past), Salamander x FemReader (future)

Warnings: implied child death, implied Drukhari... being Drukhari

Description: Salamander Apothecary Nev'ran returns to his chapter after years in the Death Watch and is forced to face painful memories.

Here's something new guys! My first ever Warhammer oc protagonist! Thanks to @thememestrider and @garlickedbreads for showing enough interest in my Salamander side-character to inspire me to write a full fic just for him. (Please forgive my playing fast and loose with Warhammer canon.)

Apothecary Nev'ran makes a brief appearance in my previous fic, Relief. And, of course, if you'd like to read my other works, check out my Masterlist.

“It is good to see you again, brother.” 

Apothecary Nev’ran nodded to the Captain of the Salamanders 4th Company, even as his deep red eyes roamed the Flamewrought’s bridge. So familiar. Every screen, shrine, beam and cable. 

Has it truly been half a century since I stood upon this ship?

“It is good to be back, Xavus.” He allowed himself a smile. “Your new rank suits you.”

Xavus returned the grin, the wings of the dactyle branded onto his left cheek twisting at the expression. “Much has changed during your absence, old drake. I hope it will not be too difficult for you to assimilate.”

Nev’ran snorted. “I am not so old that I cannot still humble you in the training ring, hatchling.”

The Captain chuckled, then grew solemn. “I see you have brought our fallen brothers back to us.”

Nev’ran turned to watch the five covered bodies wheeled off the Thunderhawk. 

Five more I failed to save. 

“We will take them home, brother. We are bound for Nocturne.”

Nev’ran clenched his teeth. “Home. It has been… so long.”

A gauntleted hand landed on his shoulder. “Too long, brother.”

Not long enough. 

Forcing the nagging thought to the back of his mind, Nev’ran once again looked around the Bridge. Most of his fellow Salamanders he recognized. But the serfs….

“I expected Exin would be here to meet me.”

Xavus blinked. “I thought you knew, brother. Your brander priest passed into the fire nearly a decade ago.”

A stab of pain. Exin had served him faithfully for nearly three decades before he’d gone to the Watch, painstakingly branding the sigils of his lord’s victories into his flesh. He remembered the angular, serious face. Slow to smile, but warm-hearted nonetheless. Like his father and grandmother before him. 

Ruby used to tease- no. Not those memories. Not yet.

Nev’ran spoke past the tightness in his throat. “Did he have no child to carry on his family calling?”

“None. I am sorry, brother.” The hand on his shoulder squeezed. “Another will be assigned to you when we reach Nocturne.”

Another mortal I can watch fade and die. “There is no need. I have grown used to caring for myself these past years.”

Xavus chuckled. “Then I can only imagine the illegibility of your brands, brother.”

Nev’ran forced a laugh.

The Captain continued. “You must tire of my company. Your old apothecarion calls, and I am sure you are eager to return to it.”

“Yes.”

No.

***

The equipment. The medicines. The harsh scent of chemicals failing to hide the omnipresent odor of blood. His apothecarion.

Memories battered his mental walls as he stepped through the doors. A bright smile. Glinting, mischievous eyes. His name on soft lips. 

He shook his head. “No.”

“My lord?” A feminine voice.

His eyes snapped to the small figure in medica’s robes standing off to one side. Her hood covered her face, and both his hearts skipped a beat. 

“Ruby?” The name slipped out before he could stop it.

It cannot be…!

The medica raised her head enough for him to see her puzzled expression. And his faint, mad hope disintegrated. 

“Apothecary Nev’ran!” Another Salamander burst through a side door. “By the Emperor, it is good to see you!”

Nev’ran stared at the youthful, unbranded face. “Hur’reth!”

A spark of joy warmed the cold forge of his hearts. Former master and former apprentice embraced, the clang of colliding ceramite resonating through the chamber. More clangs followed as Nev’ran pounded the younger Salamander’s back.

“It is good to see you, young one.” He stepped back, looking him up and down. “You passed your trials with ease, I expect?”

Hur’eth laughed. “How could I do otherwise, with you as my teacher?”

Nev’ran gave a genuine smile for the first time in longer than he could remember. “A full Brother Apothecary. I am proud of you.”

“I have eagerly awaited your return, master. What news from the Long Watch?”

“Have you time to listen?”

“My duties are light since the company is between campaigns.” Hur’reth’s eyes sparkled just as they had when he was a child, listening to his master’s stories in the forge.

“Then sit with me, and I will share what wisdom I have gathered.” Nev’ran lightly batted the side of the younger Salamander’s head. “Perhaps some of it will sink in this time.”

A soft cough. Hur’reth glanced off to one side, where the medica stood silently. 

“Before that, master. I have someone I would introduce to you.” He beckoned the woman over. “This is Matia, my most valued assistant here in the apothecarion.” 

He gazed down at her with an expression Nev’ran knew all too well. “She is to be my mate.”

Pain. Like a branding iron shoved inside his gut. With those few words, Nev’ran’s mind spiralled into the deepest secrets of the Salamanders.

Official doctrine stated that the Primarch Vulkan himself started the custom. But some chapter scholars believed the practice went back even further. They held that the instinct to mate and father children lay deep within the geneseed of every Astartes. The Salamanders simply chose to embrace that instinct, instead of burying it beneath repressive indoctrination. 

The Chaplains gave strict instructions on the practice to each initiate. 

The woman must be strong of body, able to stand alongside a warrior and mother his children. The woman must be strong of mind, able to bring skills to the chapter and guide the next generation of battle brothers. The woman must be strong of will, to endure the horrors to which she may be exposed.

Above all, the woman must be willing. Coercion of any kind turned a former battle brother into the most hated of creatures, dishonored and hunted by his fellow Salamanders.

For such women were valued beyond price. Bringers of love and wisdom. Councillors and artisans. Faithful companions.

Nev’ran’s hand automatically sought the reliquary at his waist.

“Master?” Hur’reth’s voice shook him from his reverie. “Do you disapprove?”

“You have spoken with the Chaplain, child?” Nev’ran addressed the woman, softening his voice as much as he could.

“I have, my lord. He deemed me worthy.”

Hur’reth beamed, settling his hand on her shoulder. “We will be bound in fire when we reach Nocturne. I would greatly appreciate your presence at the ceremony, master.”

By the Throne, do not ask that of me. Not that!

“I…may have other duties to attend to.” He sighed when the younger Salamander’s face fell. “But I will try.”

Matia smiled. “Hur’reth often spoke of you, my lord. He said you were like a father to him. We would be grateful for your blessing.”

“I said I will try. I make no promises.”

The woman flinched at the harshness in his tone. Hur’eth’s eyes flashed fire, a growl rumbling from his chest.

Warp damn it. 

Nev’ran raised a hand. “Forgive me. The day has been long and I am, perhaps, still adjusting to my return.”

Matia laid a hand on Hur’reth’s arm, and the younger Apothecary seemed to calm. “We understand, my lord. Don’t we, my heart’s fire?”

Hur’reth remained silent, and she gave him a sharp look from beneath her hood. 

“Yes,” he finally grumbled, “we understand.”

“Perhaps it would be best if tales of my time in the Watch waited for another day.” Nev’ran tried to smile.

The scowl didn’t leave Hur’reth’s face. “I think that would be wise. Rest well, Brother Apothecary.”

“And you.”

He watched the pair make their way out of the chamber. At the door, Hur’reth bent suddenly and scooped Matia into his arms. Her startled laugh floated back to Nev’ran and, once again, pain seared him from the inside out.

Warp damn it all! Fifty years since… and nothing is easier.

***

A throaty laugh. “Arise, old dragon. The day cycle stretches on, and you lay like a lizard in the sun.”

He stubbornly kept his eyes shut. “Hmph. No respect for my age and wisdom, young one?”

“None whatsoever.” A cool, calloused hand against his cheek.

He caught the wrist. “You forget, woman, an old dragon is still dangerous.”

“Oh?” The voice dropped low, and his body stirred in response.

“Dangerous. And patient.” 

With a firm, but gentle tug, he pulled the woman onto his broad chest, lips pressing against her throat. He opened his eyes to stare into snapping black orbs full of laughter and love-

Nev’ran awoke.

The darkness of his quarters confused him for a moment. Then his firesight activated, and he saw the ribbons of heat swirling across the walls and ceiling in geometric patterns. The smell of warm metal and incense filled his nose. He pushed himself upright with a groan, feeling the stretch and creak of centuries old muscle.

One hand reached behind him. But no soft, cool body met his questing fingers. None had for over fifty years. Instead, he caressed the reliquary still tied at the waist of his sleeping robes. 

“My Ruby.”

For a long moment he sat upon the edge of his cot, feeling every ridge and edge of the ornate little box. He knew it  better than any weapon he’d ever crafted. He’d forged it himself after all.

And yet, it was naught but cold comfort.

He surged to his feet.

I can put this off no longer.

Exiting his quarters, he padded barefoot through the halls of the Flamewrought. This late in the night cycle, only a few serfs scurried about. They bobbed in respect as he passed. Any other time, he might have stopped to converse, to ask their names and positions. 

Not tonight. 

The memory of hundreds of similar treks did not fail him as the doors to the small chapel came into view. One phrase stood out amidst the riot of Imperial symbols and imagery lovingly carved upon their surface: The Daughters of Vulkan

He hesitated for a fraction of a second before pressing his hand to the panel on one side of the door. He felt sharp prick as the needle tested his blood.

None but Salamanders were permitted beyond these doors. Few, if any, of the other chapters or Imperial offices would understand the secrets held within.

Emperor forbid the Inquisition ever learn of this.

A few seconds later, there came a high-pitched beep, a light flashed, and the doors hissed apart. Nev’ran steeled himself as he stepped within.

The inner walls and floor were not metal like the rest of the ship, but stone, mined from Nocturne and made to resemble the homeworld’s caverns. A large brazier stood in the exact center of the circular chapel.

Nev’ran took in the myriad of murals and designs covering nearly every inch of the walls, floor, and ceiling. Though the skulls and other common imagery of the Imperial cult were represented, the predominant image remained that of a she-dragon in various poses: curled about her eggs, watching over playful hatchlings, poised to attack, teeth bared.

The images curled about hundreds of small niches carved into the stone, each holding a tiny urn. Some were dark and dusty. Others held smoldering candles. Still others glimmered with inset jewels. Nev’ran approached one of these.

Reaching out, he ran his fingers over a name carved upon the urn, mildly surprised to find it free of dust and soot. His wife’s given name. Though, he’d rarely called her by it.

“Ruby. My Ruby.” My precious, fiery gem.

The memories he’d fought so long and so hard to resist came pouring back, irresistible as a lava flow. 

He’d already been centuries old, the last of his bloodline, when he first laid eyes on her. He’d made peace with the fact he’d never find a mate of his own, never hold children in his arms.

Then he’d returned one day to find a new medica stood tall and unafraid in the midst of his apothecarion. She’d recited her name without waiting for him to speak. The granddaughter of a brother of the First Company, she could have had any position she wished.

But she’d chosen Fleet duty.

“How can I help anyone if I’m bound to the homeworld, my lord? I wish to sail the stars, to succour those in need far from Nocturne’s fires. I am not afraid.”

She was never afraid. Not of the great empty void. Not of battle. Not of other Astartes. He smiled at the memory of her standing face to face (rather, face to stomach) with an irate Ultramarine. 

“I don’t care what the Codex dictates, Captain Sicarious! You can question the wounded after I’ve tended to them, and not one moment before!”

Slowly, she’d chipped away at the stony walls around his heart. She’d given him hope for a future filled with warmth and life after centuries in cold solitude. He’d spent weeks in the forge, toiling over her betrothal gift.

Nev’ran stood, ramrod straight, as she opened the plain metal box. The contents glittered in the candlelight.

“Oh…oh, Nev!”

She lifted the many-stranded necklace, delicate golden wire set with dozens of tiny, scarlet stones. “Rubies! My favorite!”

“I know.” He smiled, then slowly dropped to one knee. “It would be a great honor, if you would bond with me in the firelight of-”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.

Kisses turned to caresses, which turned to clothing discarded on the floor of his quarters. He was anxious about causing her pain. She was frustrated with his caution. When they finally settled into a rhythm….

By Vulkan’s burning eyes, it was perfection.

In hindsight, it probably hadn’t been the best idea to propose in the middle of an Ork invasion. The Chaplain hadn’t been available for several weeks, and by that time, they’d had to request an expedited ceremony.

They’d wanted to be officially bonded before the child came.

Nev’ran leaned his forehead against the niche and braced himself for the memories to come.

The Orks had been defeated, but the planet was devastated. Infrastructure crumbling, people battered, defenders exhausted. The Salamanders did what they could to aid the population. He remembered working nonstop for days, tending the wounded and extracting geneseed from the fallen.

He’d tried to convince her to remain on the Flamewrought with the serfs. She’d refused. Pregnant or not, as long as she could help, she would. He’d been so proud, watching her organize the hospital, bark orders at officers, and sooth traumatized guardsmen.

So strong. So fearless.

Then the Drukhari came. Hate reddened his vision.

Vile scavengers drawn to the scent of suffering. A raiding party swooped in under the cover of darkness one night, striking at the most vulnerable point: the hospital.

When he found her…when he’d seen what they’d left of her and his unborn child….

Nev’ran’s knees buckled.

“Master?”

He did not look up at the voice. “Hur’reth.”

“I knew I would find you here.” A second hand joined his upon his wife’s memorial shrine. “I come once a standard week.”

“Thank you for maintaining it.”

“She was like a second mother to me, during my apprenticeship.” He heard a smile in the younger Salamander’s voice. “She used to sneak me sweets when your back was turned.”

“I know.”

“I celebrated the news of your bonding. And I mourned…after.” A deep breath. “I desired to speak with you, but I had my trials. And then you left.”

Nev’ran remained silent. In the aftermath of her murder, he’d wanted nothing more than to hunt every filthy Drukhari from the galaxy. He’d badgered then-Captain Dac’tyr to let him go to the Watch, even threatening to join as a Black Shield. 

Anything to hold off the black void of grief.

“Did you find what you needed in the Death Watch?”

Nev’ran sighed and stood. “I thought so, brother. With every Drukhari I left a burning husk at my feet, I thought so.”

In time, the volcanic rage had faded to smoldering embers. He’d formed bonds with his brothers in the Watch, took pleasure in the companionship of the serfs. 

I wonder if Brother Nullus ever acted upon his feelings for his little serf girl?

But the wound never truly healed.

Before he could say so, a metallic voice screeched over the chapel’s vox. “ALL BROTHERS ARMOR YOURSELVES AND GATHER ON THE BRIDGE.”

***

“We have received a distress signal.” Captain Xavus leaned over the communications table. “It’s fragmented, and weak, but close.”

He hit a button and a panicked voice pierced the air. “shhhh…breached our hull in numerous…shhhh…captain dead…shhhh…hunting us…shhhh…Emperor, save us! Someone help…shhhh….”

The final words, screamed in terror, sent lightning up Nev’ran’s spine. 

“Dark Eldar!”

Xavus ended the transmission. “That was the last of it. We sent transmissions of our own, but received no further communication.”

Nev’ran spoke even before the Lieutenant standing next to him. “How soon will we arrive?”

“We should be within Thunderhawk range in less than an hour.”

The Lieutenant eyed him. “I will prepare a squad.”

Nev’ran turned to the unfamiliar brother. “I will accompany you.”

“This is no job for an Apothecary.”

Fury flashed through him, but Xavus spoke before he could. “Apothecary Nev’ran is recently returned from the Death Watch, Lieutenant. His knowledge of the xenos will prove valuable.”

Thank you, brother.

The Captain continued, face grim. “And, in the unlikely case there are survivors, they will need medical aid.”

***

The silence. As Nev’ran exited the Thunderhawk in the hangar of the large merchant transport, bolter raised, the silence struck him. Void ships were never silent.

His mind flashed back to that terrible dawn, outside the hospital camp. It had been silent then too.

“Brother Apothecary, what insight do you have for us?”

He ignored the irritation in the Lieutenant’s voice. “Trust nothing you see or hear. Keep a lookout in all directions at all times.”

Another brother spoke. “We saw no ships on our approach. Perhaps the foul xenos are gone?”

“Do not be certain of that.”

The abominations were nothing if not cunning.

The five man squad moved quickly through the empty halls. Scorch marks and twisted metal marked a fierce fight. Bright red blood dripped from every surface.

“Where are the bodies?” Another of the team spoke.

“Taken.” Nev’ran growled. “Fuel for foul experiments. Pray to the Emperor they were killed first.”

“Brothers!”

Nev’ran turned toward the shout. One of his squadmates stood before an open door. He heard a few faint gurgles coming from within.

“Dear Emperor….”

The Apothecary could guess what he saw. “Can any be saved?”

A short shake of his helmeted head.

“Then give them mercy, brother.”

The Salamander aimed his flamer into the chamber. “You will be avenged, I swear it.”

Searing, cleansing heat. Then silence once again. The Salamander came to stand next to Nev’ran, head lowered, chest heaving. 

He put his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Steel yourself. There will be more.”

There were.

By the time his squad reached the bowels of the ship, all were silent. Nev’ran knew each battle brother had seen horrors to blast mortal minds. But the charnel houses left in the Drukhari’s wake could shake the most stalwart Astartes. 

They had shaken him. 

The dragon in him roared for battle. He desired nothing more than to rip the perpetrators of these atrocities in half with his bare hands. Another part of him wept for the victims.

Emperor, is this my punishment for failing to save my mate and child? To be forced to arrive too late time and time again? 

Inside his helmet, he closed his eyes and channeled every ounce of faith he still possessed into one prayer. 

Please. Just one. Let me save just one.

A light flashed on in his helmet display. “I have a life sign!”

“Xenos?” The Lieutenant growled.

“Human.”

The other Salamanders gathered around. “Where?”

“Toward the far hull.”

As he spoke, the already flickering lights in the hall went out. Nev’ran activated his firesight, and each brother came alive with unique heat patterns.

“The life support systems are failing,” one Salamander remarked.

Nev’ran pressed ahead. “Then we must move quickly!”

More systems failed as they continued. The air grew frigid, frost forming along every metal surface. Nev’ran barely noticed. His eyes fixed upon the life sign as it turned from green to orange, then orange to red.

No. Not this time!

At last they turned a corner to find a barricade constructed before an ornate set of doors. Only here did bodies lay where they’d fallen. Men and woman in fine uniforms, wielding pristine weapons.

“House guards.” One of the brothers muttered.

Another nodded. “A final stand.”

The Lieutenant kicked a lanky body in spiked armor. “They took a few of the foul creatures with them, at least.”

“No mutilations.” Nev’ran rumbled. “The xenos must have detected our ship and fled before they had time to…enjoy themselves.”

“Cowards.”

The Apothecary clenched his fists around his weapon until the metal creaked. “If we had only gotten here sooner.” He shook himself. “Help me brothers, the life sign is behind that door.”

He pushed his way through the hastily constructed barricade. Reaching the door, he realized it had been welded shut. His pauldron met metal with a ringing crash.

“Allow me, brother.” The Lieutenant came up beside. “On the count of three….”

Two rams later, and the door buckled. A gust of icy air blew past them as they stepped into the chamber. It may have been beautiful once, with ornate furniture and hanging tapestries. Now frost covered every surface, including the figure huddled by the dead fireplace.

“Warp damn it.” The Lieutenant growled. “The coolant system here must have ruptured.”

Nev’ran barely heard him. A blanket covered the still body, only revealing a frail, feminine hand. The blue fingers twitched.

A cry from behind stopped him mid-step.

“Throne! The xenos lives!”

Swift and deadly as a thrown blade, the Drukhari “corpse” leapt into the chamber. Nev’ran caught the glimmer of mad eyes through its half-demolished helm before they focused on the figure on the floor.

A hiss of vicious delight, a flicker of movement, and it stood over the prone form. The blanket was torn away, revealing….

You. A young woman. Helpless. Staring up at your death with calm acceptance.

The dragon within awoke. “NO!”

Afterwards, he never could explain how he reached the Drukhari in time. He only felt the thin throat in his fist, wrenching it away from you like a ragdoll. Again and again and again he slammed it to the floor, continuing long after it ceased to resemble any kind of humanoid. Until, at last, a soft gasp drew him out of the blood rage.

You stared up at him with wide eyes. He expected to see fear in your gaze. But there was only awe. Something in his hearts burned at that look, a feeling he had not experienced in decades.

You reached your tiny, fragile hand out to him, blue-tinted lips opening. “C-cold. So…cold….”

He knew nothing about you, not even your name, and yet it felt natural to hold you close. As if you belonged in his arms.

“Fear not, little one. This dragon will keep you warm.”

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[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

Staking a claim

Summary: Shen Qingqiu and the terrible plague of everybody flirting with his husband.

Shen Qingqiu had long become used to people gravitating towards Luo Binghe - of course, he was the protagonist, after all, and his exceedingly good looks, incredible martial and cultivation prowess as well as his imposing presence attracted attention and admiration in equal parts as they did envy and contempt.

It had been a main feature of Proud Immortal Demon Way for women to fall hopelessly and devotedly in love with him from as little as a brief glance their way, after which they were ready to offer themselves up for him in the most perverted ways Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky could conceive - however, though Shen Qingqiu's alternate version of Binghe was not attracted to women anymore, it seemed that many still flushed red in his presence and even attempted to flirt with him regardless.

This was not a problem for Shen Qingqiu. Luo Binghe had openly and frequently declared that he would sooner throw himself into the Abyss again a thousand times over than cheat on his beloved Shizun, and they both knew those were not just empty words. Man or woman, none would tempt him, because Binghe's heart belonged only to his husband - a confession that had Shen Qingqiu turn so red that he felt like he would catch on fire!

But regardless of how many times Luo Binghe turned down the flirtatious women and told them in no uncertain terms that he was happily married and decidedly unwilling to part from his beloved unless death itself took him away, not all seemed to be willing to accept it. It was pitiful, and Shen Qingqiu did not feel jealous as much as he felt sorry for them.

The situation was slightly different when it came to men, however. Since, apparently, Binghe had somehow turned gay in this strange alternative universe of Shen Qingqiu's making, it was often that men fell victim to Binghe's unintentional charm and enticing protagonist halo even more than women did - and it gave quite the number of them the courage to try to pursue him.

Whereas Shen Qingqiu was perfectly and securely trusting of Luo Binghe, seeing all of these men flirt with him every occasion they could irked him greatly. Sure, though Luo Binghe had always refused every single offer - sometimes politely, other times coldly and every now and again, violently - the constant batting of eyelashes and veiled innunendos were starting to test Shen Qingqiu's patience.

Back in the modern world, Shen Yuan hadn't been a jealous or possessive person in the least - he had lived by the motto that one should not hold too tightly onto those they love, and let them flee freely without judgement if they wanted to.

But now that he had fully come into the role of Shen Qingqiu and had married Luo Binghe, it seemed more and more clear to him that, perhaps, his lack of territorial instincts had come from the fact that he had never had anything as precious as Binghe's glass heart to protect and keep.

Which was why Shen Qingqiu was starting to become more and more familiar with the feeling of jealousy blooming like a wretched thorn in his stomach. The constant flirting and coquetting around were making Shen Qingqiu feel angrier every time.

There were two reasons for this, he realized. One, the fact that, though secretly a poser, Shen Qingqiu was a great peak lord, and having his marriage disrespected by random NPCs felt like quite an insult to both himself and his sect.

He couldn't imagine others flirting with Mobei-Jun, for instance, because it was common knowledge he had married the An Ding Peak Lord a.k.a the "Great Master" Airplane (though to be fair, Mobei-Jun wasn't the protagonist, and the respect for An Ding Peak had not increased at all, especially since Shang Qinghua began publishing some of his terribly perverted writing without even using a fake name!)

Regardless, the point was that the constant flirting was an affront to Qing Jing Peak, if not to the whole Cang Qiong Mountain!

Secondly, Shen Qingqiu's pride as a man was constantly being tested. Though the tips of his ears still dusted pink when he said it out loud, Luo Binghe was his husband and he did not like anybody trying to sway him, even if he knew they would fail miserably. Whilst he could not stop people from admiring his Binghe or lusting after him, to have them openly hit on him was very upsetting. Luo Binghe was his, and they had no business being so audaciously flirty!

(If Binghe were to know these things, Shen Qingqiu was sure he would not allow him to leave the bed for three days and three nights!)

So, Shen Qingqiu had not intervened in any of these situations, letting Luo Binghe deal with them as he saw fit. Partly because he did not want to sour his mood, partly because having his husband reaffirm his love was satisfying.

That, until one day.

Shen Qingqiu's patience had always been plenty, but not infinite. And the limit of it had been reached when, after a long day of travelling, the inn that they had chosen to spend the night in had a far too audacious clerk working the desk. The man was in his late youth, not quite old enough to be mature but having long abandoned the appearance of boyhood, and he seemed particularly starry eyed about Luo Binghe.

That would not have been out of the question, but to see the man bite his lip and stare up at Luo Binghe in a thinly veiled expression of subservience and desire had miffed Shen Qingqiu to the point that he sent the man a glare so cold he faltered for a moment.

But the peace was short lived.

As the man (whose name Shen Qingqiu obstinately refused to remember) led them to their room, for a very split second, his hand had "brushed" against Luo Binghe's lower back, a gesture that had definitely not been unintended.

But Shen Qingqiu had noticed it and nimbly smacked the back of the man's hand with his fan right as it was about to "brush" a bit lower. Binghe did not have time to so much as realize what had happened before the man yelped in pain.

"Luo-shixiong, your shizun is too cruel!" The man whimpered, so pathetic that one would have believed he had his hand cut clean off.

"One should know when to keep their hands to themselves." Shen Qingqiu replied, opening his fan, upturning his nose and closing his eyes not unlike how the original Shen Jiu would have done. "Don't you know it is impolite to lay your hands on somebody without their consent? Especially somebody that has already told you they are married and uninterested."

Luo Binghe's eyes watched his shizun with a mix of shock, surprize, joy and excitement, but he dared not intervene. That was too good to ruin - Shen Qingqiu had never said anything to Binghe's many suitors before, and though Binghe was happy Shizun trusted him, he had indeed wanted some kind of possessive reaction from him... and now, he had received it!

The inn clerk pouted further, looking even more pathetic. "I had not intended to do anything uncouth... I was simply discussing sword forms with Luo-xiong..."

"If you are interested in the martial arts, I could refer you to Bai Zhan Peak." Shen Qingqiu interrupted, in that same harsh, arrogant, "needles hidden in silk" tone. "Though I doubt Liu-shidi would willingly take in a new disciple that seems so terribly unpromising."

Binghe barely suppressed a laugh at that as the inn clerk's expression soured. He did not dare say anything else, not when Binghe himself sent him a meaningful, dark glance.

The room they had rented had indeed been beautiful, cozy with an air of elegance. If this particular man was terribly irritating, at least the inn did not reflect that same poor character.

"Should I bring my esteemed guests anything before I retreat?" The inn clerk asked, some of his saccharine sweetness dissipated into placid politeness.

Binghe began, "No, I-"

"Yes." Shen Qingqiu interrupted, placing his fan on the table with just enough force for a small click to reverberate as the wood of the handle met the tabletop. "The finest wine you have."

Luo Binghe's eyes glinted so brightly that Shen Qingqiu felt blinded for a moment. But his mood had indeed soured too much, and his expression did not soften. The severity in his eyes made goosebumps raise on his disciple's skin, a pleasant shiver down his spine.

"Hurry now. I have much to...discuss with my husband tonight and I do not wish to waste any more time." Shen Qingqiu spoke again, his tone still icy.

The inn clerk could only obey as he scurried out of the door, his face both pale and red all the same.

He had a feeling that there would be many complaints of improper noises disturbing the rest of his inn's patrons!

[wordslikesilver]

I’m not sure it’s a well known YA series but I think about this one character relationship in the Fablehaven series a lot. I’m gonna skim as much context as possible for brevity here. Caretaker of a mythical creature sanctuary named Patton Burgess falls in love with a Naiad named Lena and he rows his boat out to the middle of the lake every day for months, years to take time to play his violin for her. Talk to her. Ask her to step out of the water for him. If he leans over the edge, she’ll capsize his boat and drown him. If she steps on land, she’ll turn human. And he’s simply polite and persistent and kind and loving while she mocks him, but eventually becomes warm to him. After a long, long time, she finally steps onto the land for him. It’s a really massive deal, like it’s basically utter taboo for her and she can never go back to her sisters in the water. But she does so willingly, and with love in her heart for him because she decides he’s worth it. They marry, they live well and happily together for decades, he passes away and she becomes a maid to future caretakers (and is generally a huge badass in a ton of other ways, led a very exotic life before the events of the books). Literally the sweetest old woman you’ve ever met in your life. Full of love and tenderness and warmth and everything you would associate with a kindly old maid who’s secretly a badass.

Events happen in the books and the misguided benevolence of the fairy queen has her reward the heroes by “setting everything back the way it was” before all the death and destruction, but it goes too far and changes Lena back into a Naiad too, back to the lake where she dwelled, back to her old ways of caring so very little for humans and their company. Our protagonists plead with her to come back. They beg her to remember their time together and the love she felt and expressed towards them. She laughs them off. She even laughs them off when they ask her to think what her husband would’ve wanted. To think about his violin. They try to play it for her. It could never be the same but they try because they love her. She says she doesn’t care anymore and doesn’t seem the slightest like she doesn’t mean it. She’s happy with her sisters again. Happy once more to drown our protagonists if they lean just a little too far forwards, something utterly unthinkable for her character before this. More plot happens and the situation in the sanctuary becomes so dire that a failsafe triggers and a memory of her husband Patton appears as a clone of himself from when he set the failsafe, ready to fix the dire circumstances as best he can. He learns what happened to his wife, what she’s been forcibly changed back into, how her feelings have seemingly irreversibly been changed back the way they were, and doesn’t even think twice before he calmly and confidently strides forth to the lake. He takes up his violin and rows out on the boat to the middle and politely asks her sisters if he can talk to her. When they decline and tell him she doesn’t care about him, he smiles and begins to play.

The air fills with music. The sisters panic and squabble, telling each other to stop her, that he’s not really there. Seconds after he begins playing, despite all the efforts of her sisters, she leaps from the depths and lands in his arms, changing back to the way she was. No hesitation, not the slightest fleeting doubt before tossing away immortality a second time just to be with him again. It took nothing more than the sound of his playing that she never forgot no matter what to bring her back to land. The memory of the love and happiness between them was simply that powerful that it could move her that way. And reader, that destroys me. Oh it tears me asunder I tell you. Can you imagine her in that moment? Peacefully ignoring all the worries and cries of humans she no longer gives a shit about. She’ll outlive all of them. And then music. Her heart begins to hurt and sing with a song it never forgot and she looks up, up at the sunlit shadow of a boat far above her. A heartbeat passes while she listens, it can’t be him. Even as she’s asking herself is it him, is that the music of the man I loved, she’s swimming. All doubts fade away just moments after she draws the slightest bit closer, she knows the timbre of her husband’s bow against the strings. Her sisters are trying to hold her down, to stop her, to drown her in her promised and now returned immortality and she doesn’t want it. She wants to see him again. All of this happening in less than a minute, mind you. That’s how deeply she missed him, long outliving him after he passed away forever ago. They can’t hold her. Nothing could stop her from reaching him in that moment. It DESTROYS me okay, can you imagine love like that? This memory clone of him was only around for 3 days and she gave up immortality just to have him back for even that long.

My favourite relationship trope will always be “no matter what’s happened to me, no matter what I’ve become, I will always return to you. Your scent on the wind, your voice beneath the din, your eyes in the light will call me back to you forever and always. There is nothing that is mine that I wouldn’t give up for you. There is no spell or drug or threat or lie or promise or heaven in all the world that could ever make me turn from you. I could resist you no more than the apple on the branch could resist your hand. Reach for me and I will tumble into your arms again and again.”

Sometimes I imagine my lover being turned into a dryad and what song I might sing to her to bring her back to me. Gods I’m too sappy for things like this, truly.

[teecupangel]

I've had some thoughts on what elements(not really ATLA) fit Ezio, Altaïr, Desmond, Basim and Ratonhnhaké:ton(just a curiousity thing). And i think Fire fits Ezio alot. It burns fiercly and destroys things in it's path, but the aftermath leaves nurishing, lifebringing ash. It burns down forests, leaving it clear for new growth.

For Desmond it's definetly Water. He bends around the rock in the river, but also violently crushes into obstacles. If we include ice into water(which i often do, it just makes sense imo), it also fits with a slow, but guaranteed death. It can also cut and freezeburn anyone who touches it, who doesn't know it's dangers.

Altaïr is a bit trickier. He also fits Fire, but i also like the idea of him being Lightning. Violent, quick destruction, easily seen and recognised, often turning on it's wielder if improperly handled. But with the right amount, it leads to incredible technology, life altering in it's wonders.

Ratonhnhaké:ton i think is Earth or Wind. Earth is steady, lifegiving, solid. But it can also be devastating in it's power, shaking the very foundation of cities, tearing everything apart. Wind is similiar. Gentle, cooling breeze on a summers day or a warm wind in autumn, but it can also bring devestation. Storms, hurricanes and tornadoes. Tearing things apart, leaving destruction in it's wake, terrifyingly unstoppable.

Basim i think fits with Wind. He is very stubborn and willful in Mirage, like an incoming storm. And with the hallucinations, nightmares and the memories of Loki, he can probably go from a mild breeze to a hurricane in an instant, unstable in it's strength.

Idk about the others protaganists, i still haven't played most of the games(procrastenation is a bitch XD), but feel free to suggest your own ideas of other elements that could fit and how the elements can fit the other characters. ^^

So, before we get to the others, I feel like we should only focus on 5 main elements: Water, Fire, Earth, Wind and Lightning since that’s the elements you suggested.

I agree with their elements and I kinda like the idea of Ratonhnhaké:ton being Wind more than Earth because I want to suggest that we mess with Edward.

He gets the Earth element. Of course, the Water element is right there and it would certainly make sense for him to have a Water element as well but just imagine how funny it would be for Edward to have Earth element and he’s still a pirate. He’s gonna have to be creative and maybe bring a pouch of dirt with him. Or Jackdaw’s captain quarters have a minigarden. Edward having Earth element could work. Earth and plants in general can be stubborn sons of bitches that won’t die even when they’re out of their natural habitat (take dandelion growing on concrete for example). But Earth is also adaptable and steadfast.

I would also like to add, Basim is also like a fog (which is Wind adjacent) because of the secrets he hides in the ‘illusion’ called Basim (as someone who don’t even know it or as Loki who actively uses that facade)

Now, for the other protagonists:

Bayek would be Fire. He brings warmth and safety to those he loves and suffering and death to those against him. The rage and desire for vengeance burns inside him but, at the same time, it is that warmth that helped him move on and create a path forward.

Shay would be Lightning as well, his name as an Assassin hunter similar to the thunderous roar that warns those of his presence but not of where he would strike.

Arno is Wind. At the start, he is carefree summer breeze, just fleeting around and enjoying the life he has. Later on, he becomes a mist, present but not the center of attention, satisfied of being of service to the woman he loves. After her death, he becomes a brewing storm that could just as easily be destructive to himself and others.

Evie and Jacob. Now, these two… they would be Earth but of ‘different kinds’. Jacob would be more of a plant-based Earth elemental wielder, a symbol of his desire to make his own path, away from their father’s legacy. Evie, on the other hand, is more of a stone-based Earth elemental wielder, signifying the fortitude of her loyalty to their father’s legacy. Both of them are Earth because they both hold their grounds on the belief they have.

Kassandra is Fire, mainly because a lot of her abilities in the game had a fiery effect. Her destructive capabilities coincide with the destructive force of flames devouring everything it touches but it’s also those powers that could provide saftey and warmth to the people she loves.

[bloodyfries]

RPG Bingqiu Au

Ok, so what if Bingqiu died at Mai Gu Ridge. (Shen Qingqiu didn't get to self save and Luo Binghe did destroy Xin Mo (or killed himself after Shen Qingqiu died idk)) but instead of just being dead, they got transmigrated together.

My vision for this would be some dnd esc world with different classes, species, monsters, quest and, of course, cool lore.

Now, obviously, since they aren't aloud to have good things (at least in the beginning) Luo Binghe and Shen Qingqiu are not put together/know the other one is in the same world. I imagine Shen Qingqiu ends up saving some poor soul (who just so happened to be Luo Binghe) who seemed to have chosen a class they didn't know how to use.

Luo Binghe (at first) chooses a class to honor Shen Qingqiu and picks either a only magic class, a scholarly type class (this isn't dnd so I'm making this up!) or some form of bard (simply because Qing Jing Peak did teach music). This probably wouldn't be too much of a problem... if he still had the protagonist halo. (Tbh it would still be a problem since that's not lbh's style of fighting but things would be easier)

Shen Qingqiu ends up convincing this stranger (lbh) that they should switch to a class that suits them. The only problem is that he's going to be starting from nothing so it'll be dangerous for him to travel alone! Sqq decides that he'll travel with this person to make sure they don't get into any danger!

And to distract himself from the loss of the man he loved in his previous life

I imagine after tons of shenanigans, quests and miscommunication they realize who the other is

Also, I think it would be amazing if the system gave both of them new names for their next lives. Luo Binghe's new name would be Romeo and Shen Qingqiu’s would be Juliette... he goes by Lee

[asnowperson]

An essay on the theme of children-parent relationships in Hagio Moto's works by Murakami Tomohiko

For years, I avoided reading the essays that were included at the end of bunkoban volumes. Reading Japanese prose felt like a chore to me, to be honest. A too high of a hurdle. And most of the time, the contents went over my head.

That being said, since I started reading them, I've come across some pretty interesting ones. The analysis written by Murakami Tomohiko, manga critic, at the end of Mesh's vol. 3 (Hakusensha Bunko, 1994) was particularly interesting for me. So, I tried my hand at translating butchering it. The author compares the boys in Hagio's manga and their family issues. You can find it below the cut.

If anyone wants to read the original, I can send pics/scans!

Province of children 

Murakami Tomohiko  (Manga critic) 

For a child, what does it feel like to be neglected by their parents? 

Mesh is the protagonist of this story. His mother, elopes with a man when he was young. His father, doubting whether he’s Mesh’s real father or not, drives him away from himself, and places him in a boarding school in the faraway Switzerland. For 12 years of his life, he believes that his mother abandoned him, and his father hates him. It’s not hard to imagine how deep the scars such feelings left in Mesh’s heart are.  

Mesh’s mother gave him a girl’s name, “Françoise-Marie.” We do not know if she wanted to have a daughter that bad, but as Mesh was separated from his mother when he was 2, he never knew the truth. But how much of a deciding factor that name became for him, and how it kept bearing heavy on him in his later years, are beyond any doubt.

When Mesh was 12, silver locks started to appear on both sides of his blond hair. After seeing a proof of genetics at work, his father finally recognized him as his own son. But that wasn’t the salvation the he was looking for. When his father shifted the blame on Mesh’s mother’s licentious behavior  for doubting his paternity, a new wound was opened on the young boy's heart.  

“I won’t say that my mother was a saint. But for a child who lives in a dormitory... a mother something that he needs.” 

Thus, in chapter 1, "Mesh,” our protagonist runs away from his paternal home. He is picked up from the streets of Paris by Millon, a young art forger. In the final chapter, “Sure Love and  Real Death,” he is reunited with his mother, now living in her homeland of Lorraine. She is mentally instable and still running after the image of her "daughter" who never existed. Mesh is an abandoned child who hates his father so much that he wants to kill him, and who is struggling to break free from her mother’s chains. This manga chronicles his story of breaking free from his parents.  

Children discarded by their parents. Children separated from their parents. Such children fumbling their way in their quest to find their personal salvation had been recurring motif in Hagio Moto’s works before Mesh. It is also is the principal theme of this work.

If we look back, in "Bianca (ビアンカ)," she drew a girl who danced away the stress the divorce of her parents caused in a forest. In “Girl on Porch with Puppy (ポーチで少女が小犬と),” she shows us another girl who sees the world through rose-colored glasses. Grown-ups who lost their dreams point their fingers at her, and shoot her with death rays. Or take Emil Bruckhardt from “Snow Child (雪の子).”  He was taken in by his grandfather after his parents’ death, who anly accepted for taking the child in if it was a "boy." 12 years of Emil's life was spent by his side, pretending to be a boy. Young Tim from “Poor Mama (かわいそうなママ)” pushes his mother out of the window. He could no longer bear witnessing her misery, as she spent her days sitting at the window sill, gazing off in the distance, and sighing. The free-spirited and brave Eru of the Nobe family in “Red-haired Cousin (赤ッ毛のいとこ)" shows no sign that would make you think that she is an orphan.  

They were all children torn apart from their parents.They had to find somewhere to belong, and find it themselves.  

The Poe Clan has two boys who were taken away from their biological human parents and turned into vampires, destined to live until eternity. If we think about under the same light, we can say it's their story of trying their hardest to create a pseudo-family for themselves time and time again on their endless journey. The beautiful Poe instalment, "Birds’ Nest (小鳥の巣)," and works like "Heart of Thoma (トーマの心臓)" that followed it, all take place in worlds that have nothing but boys torn apart from their families. It is no coincidence that dormitories were chosen as their settings.  

Mesh was published in Shogakukan’s Petit Flower magazine between the 1980 summer issue and 1984 June issue. Mesh was preceded by "The Visitor (訪問者)" in the 1980 Spring issue.  

In "The Visitor," we follow a central character from "The Heart of Thomas," Oskar Reiser, during his childhood, before he starts to live at the dormitory. Its main theme is directly connected to that of Mesh. Young Oskar’s parents quarrel over his birth. One day, a single gunshot steals that little boy’s mother from him forever. The one who fired the shot was his father. The boy covers up for his father, and the two set out on journey with no destination. However, Oskar’s father leaves him at the school, of which the principal is an old friend of his and Oskar's real father, and leaves for Southern America alone.  

Oskar kept yearning for his father, the father who stole his mother away from him, without begrudging him. He did so, because he had nothing else in life to cling onto. As his father and mother argued about his paternity, the child lost that household as the place he belonged. Young Oskar’s only wish was to be forgiven by his parents, and to believe that he would be acknowledged as the son of that family. To make his wish come true, to beg for his father’s forgiveness, Oskar covers up for his father, the murderer of his mother, and sticks even closer to him.

Our protagonist Mesh is a direct continuation of the image of boyhood we see in  "The Visitor"s Oskar Reiser. This link continues until Hagio’s current serialization, "A Cruel God Reigns", and shapes the main plot of her stories. “Children abandoned by their parents” has been present as a principal theme since Hagio Moto's early works. The turning point which made this theme even deeper, might be just this period that connects "The Visitor" to "Mesh."

How did Mesh rationalize his mother giving him a girl’s name? He mostly introduces himself using his alias, “Mesh,” to new acquaintances, and he is very adamant about it. Those who are unaware of the circumstances are left perplexed by that name, and mistake Mesh for a girl. He seems to find that amusing deep down. He crossdresses and appears on stage, and he is approached by homosexual men. Both makes him feel uncomfortable. Yet, he doesn’t seem to have a the willpower to resist.

Actually, I have also experienced something similar. So I believe I understand how Mesh feels a little.  

When I was roughly Mesh’s age, I was a child who liked to act like a girl. In high school, I put a tablecloth on my desk in class, made flower arrangements with artificial flowers in an empty wine bottle instead of a proper vase, and listened to lectures while holding a stuffed doll. Mine was quite a free-minded school, and it was an age when all kinds of rebellious acts were "in." But still, when I think back upon it, what I did seems outrageous to me. Maybe I was just too eccentric, which is why my teachers never said anything to me.  

I was jealous of my mother’s colorful outfits. I often borrowed and wore them. Her sleek green trench coat and tank top with pink and white borders from Kamoi Youko’s underwear brand, Tunic, were my favorites. I once even made a dress for myself. I chose the fabric with my girlfriend, did the basting at her place, and she sewed it for me. She tagged along because she found it to be fun, but I’m certain that she was weirded out.  

I am still a sucker for stationary and fancy items girls would like. If I go to Sony Plaza or American Pharmacy, I am confident that I can spend half a day there. There aren’t many fathers who would go to buy picture books and plushies for their kid, but get carried out and just buy whatever they want. 

Putting it like that makes me sound like a man with perverse hobbies, but sadly, I am not such inclined. I have never felt attracted to men, and never have I ever wanted to be a woman. My interest in crossdressing had something different in it. But I am interested in feminine, rather, “girlish” things, but it only means that I am slightly different than your average, common man.  

That being said, my mother’s influence on me cannot be ignored. When I finished my dress, it was her who was the happiest and told me to wear it and take a little tour outside. During my freshman year in university, she was the one who lamented the most when I cut my hair that was reaching my butt, and made a hairpiece with my hair for me. When I was in grade school, I once trimmed my eyelashes with a pair of scissors because they were getting in the way when I was using the microscope. I remember her being frustrated to the point of bursting into tears, and getting so angry with me.  

I believe it was my mother who slowly created my very particular aesthetic sense by praising things like long eyelashes, lustrous, straight hair, a slender physique which becomes female school uniforms. All things that would be the charm points of budding young girls, and she did it at every chance. I am an only child, and have no siblings. When I was a child, my mother once asked me if I wanted to have little brothers or sisters. I told her that I would like to have an older brother, which seemed to perplex her. Maybe my mother wanted to have a daughter. She could be looking for the shadow of the daughter she never had in me.  

I don’t really know the truth of it. Maybe she just said that I looked like a girl just to express how cute her son was, without putting much thought into it. But the words she said, words I have no recollection of, very likely had a huge impact on me and awakened something deep inside my soul. My personal preferences took shape around that idea, and before I knew it, it seeped into my entire being.  

My mother was a beautician, and was often away from home on business. After she opened her own store, she was always busy with work. But that was all there was to it, and it was not like she had left me, or we were separated by death.  And it never became a reason for my parents to hurt or to oppress me. I can say that overall, I grew up in a your rather ordinary, warm household. I still started to shape my very own personality, alongside the one my parents took part in creating. Then how about a child who feels hated, or abandoned by his parents? How would he feel? To heal the wounds he got from his parents and to ail himself, would he acknowledge it all, and accept everything? Or would complete denial be his only choice? 

That's why Mesh wanted to kill his father and break free from his mother’s curse. While he wanted to be freed from his mother’s desire to have a daughter, in some corner of his mind, he was curious about what would happen if he complied. Maybe that’s what made him stand on the stage as a woman, and occasionally enjoy being photographed as one. Maybe that’s why he sometimes shut up and endured it when men treated him like a girl.  

Maybe fulfilling his mother’s wish meant securing a place in her heart for him. It might have been a self-defense mechanism — a feeling that only children abandoned by their parents know. That’s why when he faced her, and saw that his mentally ailing mother would never accept him, a boy, Mesh said: “Just what does Marché want? How can I get close to what she wants? What should I become? Marché’s dreams, and my dreams... If only I knew...” 

“A thousand pairs of scissors. Scissors that cut and mince. I could have become a flower, a bird, a daughter... I could have become anything you wanted. I could have died a thousand deaths if you wished for it.” 

We do not know the reasons why she wanted to have a daughter. No matter what they might be, accepting them as they are, that complete subordination, is an expression of his willingness to bend to his mother's will. What does it feel like to hear “I hate this child” from a mother who can’t even tell his son apart? But Mesh even accepts his mother trying to stab him with shears without saying a single word.  

Where does Mesh’s determination, which is almost commendable, come from? What steeled his resolve so? I think it was something closer to despair, rather than a wish to be delivered. Mesh’s hatred and his murderous thoughts towards his father are the two sides of the same coin. Killing his father, who hated both him and his mother, and accepting death by the hands of the mother who forgot her own son: They are actually one and the same. Thus, the child abandoned by his parents try to erase his ties to them. By resetting everything, he tries to make it as if he never existed.  

There is probably just one thing he’s trying to say with his behavior.  

"I’m sorry.  

"I couldn’t be the child you wanted.  

"I couldn’t meet your expectations.  

"I’m sorry that I was born..." 

In “The Visitor”, in the middle of his endless journey with his father, Oskar says these words time and time again: "I will be a good child. I won’t talk about my mom anymore. I’m sorry." Then he obliges his father by starting to live in a dormitory, and waits for his father to be back from South America. This must have been no different than choosing death for Oskar, a child who wanted to be the son of a warm household. 

When he doesn’t resist his mother’s attempt to kill him, something inside of Mesh shattered to pieces. He arrives at Paris train station with his broken hopes as his baggage, and he catches a glimpse of his father boarding a train. His father, who acknowledged him as “his son who shares the same blood as him” without so much as a thought about how that made Mesh feel. All Mesh can do is to stand there, motionless. Even if that's the only place he can come back to now.

All children need a place they belong. A place where they feel they can just “be.” Children do not belong to their parents, or other adults. No one shall undermine their right to self-determination. Mesh shows us how much hardship children have to endure, and the sacrifices they have to make when grown-ups forget this fact.   

[holymaccaronii]

“From a very young age, Adam had always behaved as an introverted and shy child that craved the idea of keeping his life slow and simple. His high intellect was quite notable since his early years, but he only showed interest towards a compact area of hobbies consisting of reading, writing, and occasionally if he felt inspired enough, sketch drawing. His biggest dream had always been to publish a book or novel of any sorts, of any kind, he just wanted to see his name as the author of some book for sale in a small library around the corner of the street. He never managed to finish any of his projects however, and he blames his first breakup during adolescence to have taken all of his light and motivation away ever since. Sealing all strong feelings inside his heart, he recurred to keep all of his verses and stories to himself in a small, miserable book that could hardly be closed shut.

To worsen the matter, his dreams were seen further out of reach after he was forced to join the [REDACTED] project, making him begin an exhaustive process of preparation that would allow him to survive after the population was massacred, with his hopes and dreams as a price to pay.”

Aaaaand we begin the survivor concept design reveal with this guy! (excuse his face, just like the others he has seen the horrors).

Adam is supposed to take Ted’s “place” in the group, making him the youngest and the protagonist too. To explain a bit about the dynamic that I have liked so far for the survivors, they are young adults that got their dreams taken away by the war that eventually led AM to kill everyone. I like to imagine that all those 750 humans on the moon were either important people or the most intelligent YOUNG minds the government could find in the least time possible. So along with many other teens (at the time) he was forced to begin training for this project and dedicate the rest of his life to the restoration of Earth (supposedly). Adam’s name is based off Adam from the Bible, referencing that he was the first human to set foot on the newly born Earth/nature created by BE.

About his suit, this is supposed to be the design the humans used during cryogenic sleep. This could be considered an accurate representation of Adam right after exiting his capsule, except for the small detail that he’d have his head shaved (LATER ON BE GIVES EM HAIR OKAY).

Each survivor has a dream they abandoned for the sake of this project, each survivor has a dream that could only be lived in a simulation at this point… perhaps the Earth has something to offer for them?

[This lore/dynamic might stay as canon, but is still considered a wip].

[kaibutsushidousha]

Another Danganronpa linguistics-based that has been about as long overdue as the name study post is the post about the language nuances of Fujisaki's unusual gender situation. I'm genuinely surprised I never got a direct question about this, even when the Danganronpa Translation Critique tag was still active, but one post about the subject in this site and a conversation about it elsewhere (read: a place where can easily copypaste my own explanations from) inspired me to finally put this one out. This used to be a heated topic a decade ago, so there's probably too many disclaimers to be made with this one, so assume I made every one you need to read this study in good faith. Thank you.

I guess I need to start with a general explanation of first-person pronouns. I imagine a lot of people know this part already since it's an omnipresent aspect of the language, but it never hurts to review the basics. Japanese has multiple first-person pronouns instead of the single "I" English has. A person's choice of pronoun informs things about their gender, age, social status, and relationship to the person they're speaking to. In theory, there are maybe over 40. In practice, there are only 3, maybe 6 depending on your standards for what counts as "commonly seen". In modern Japanese, most pronouns are things you only find in fiction.

The three genuinely common first-person pronouns are the traditionally masculine boku and ore, and the gender-neutral watashi. Watashi can be easily mistaken for feminine since that's what women default to in every situation due to the lack of other options, but it's a truly neutral formal pronoun that men are using all the time in professional situations. It's especially relevant here that watashi is not inherently feminine in any way.

Now to the relevant question. What pronoun Fujisaki uses for himself? The answer is boku, a markedly masculine pronoun, the same our male protagonist uses. This can be seen in Mondo's flashback with him, in the scenes contained his inner thoughts, the bonus mode/game scenes that have his secret revealed, and if that counts, how Alter-Ego talks as him.

Fujisaki's boku is a traditionally masculine pronoun, so he obviously didn't use it before the reveal. It's easy to spot this and call it a pronoun switch. These kinds of pronoun switches are a very common language trick and come in all sorts of circumstances in other stories, but Fujisaki's case becomes a lot more intriguing when you verify what it was changed from.

The expected answer is watashi. It's the perfectly gender-neutral pronoun, but it's a pronoun women use far more commonly than any feminine-specific pronouns. It's a perfect fit for the disguise and it's very easy to honestly say Fujisaki has no reason to feel any dysphoria using watashi as a man. It's something his male peers are expected to do when talking to teachers and that they'll need to do in their jobs as adults. But Fujisaki never says watashi before or after the reveals.

The actual answer is none. Fujisaki omits pronouns in every line of dialogue he has alive. Omitting pronouns is a completely normal part of dialogue in Japanese, so doing it 100% of the time is not something people normally do, but it is something you can get away with in Japanese without raising many eyebrows.

This 24/7 pronoun omission has always been a fascinating dialogue quirk to me because in my 12 years consuming stuff as a Japanese student and translator, this is something that I've never seen done before or after, and something no translation of DR1 could convey properly in English. It's a truly unique case as far as I'm aware.

Makes this gimmick work requires an extra level of attention and sometimes getting creative with phrasing, both in Kodaka writing out-of-universe and in Fujisaki speaking in-universe. Genuine work was put into making Fujisaki fiercely refusing to refer to himself with anything less than a fully masculine pronoun, no matter how much he felt "undeserving" of his gender.

Anyway, that's pretty much all on the side of Fujisaki's own self-expression. The question I'm mostly copypasting my own answer from was "which characters used which gender expressions in chapter 2" and I yapped about Fujisaki's own answer because that's the special and unique description trick that frequently occupies my mind, but I guess I'll drop the answer here as well.

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The first point to be relevant is that many characters, including our PoV Naegi, use the honorifics san for the girls and kun for the boys. Naegi is the first to address Fujisaki after the reveal and he sticks to the san he always used. This continues even after the flashbacks give the full context of Fujimaru's situation.

Next, Celes mentions Fujisaki as "Fujisaki... kun", taking a big pause to indicate intent on the pronoun switch and attention to the habits she's trying to unlearn. Kirigiri, Geno, and Ishimaru also refer to Fujisaki in unambiguously masculine terms before Oowada reveals any of Fujisaki's perspectives on the matter. The rest don't say anything gendered, which is easy to do because Japanese is a really easy language to be gender-neutral on (this says a lot about the choices of the characters who did pick gendered words, perhaps).

How Oowada and Junko (Monokuma) address gender is discussed directly in the trial so I don't think I need to cover it here. They're also the only ones with full context during the trial, so it's not comparable to the 4 above deciding Fujisaki's gender based on fragmentary information.

And the last relevant new factor is Alter-Ego, who refers to its creator as "Goshujin-tama", aside from regularly using he/him. Goshujin-sama used by servants to address the specifically male lords they work for. As maids became a staple anime trope, you probably heard this one coming from a fetishized maid character. The reason why I'm specifying this is that Alter-Ego calls Fujisaki "Goshujin-tama" instead of "Goshujin-sama". The "honorific" tan is a variation of the classic honorific san, used primarily by otaku to address their anime waifus. The -tama there is a -sama equivalent of that. The blatant implication there is that Fujisaki designed his subservient digital clone to be attracted to him, which is categorically weird. That's another character element that the localization doesn't bother trying to convey, opting for a mostly sanitized "Master" as Alter-Ego's title of choice of Chihiro.

Then the next game has AI Nanami referring both to Fujisaki as her father and Alter-Ego as her brother, and I'm closing the post here because I'd rather not to think about how that makes Alter-Ego's title of choice weirder.

[knight-of-the-graces]

Hey, um… with the whole “Bluejay!Jason” concept… has anybody ever considered it as an Inkheart reference instead of just a play off his name?

Follow me here, and sorry in advance, this turned into a ramble.

In the second book of the Inkheart trilogy, Inkspell, one of the main protagonists adopts a Robin Hood-esque approach to defeating the tyrant king, and adopts the name of ‘The Bluejay’ from famous folk legends and songs written by a beloved poet and often sung by travelling minstrels. He’s -Inkspell spoilers ahead, though this book is unironically older than I am- known for toppling said tyrant’s throne through the binding of a magic book (a recurring theme throughout the series, if you’ve never read it, which you should). He’s a champion among the Motley Folk, who were that world’s equivalent to a travelling circus and also regularly aid him in his quest to topple the Adderhead (the tyrant king mentioned above), and sought to help the poor and downtrodden. The Bluejay is aided and abetted by his family and friends, which include a shapeshifting wife, a daughter with the ability to make anything she reads come true, a fire-dancer who can speak to the flames, and a knife-throwing 'circus' prince with a black bear companion. (They're not called the Motley Folk for no reason, people!)

Now, consider for a moment: Little Jason Todd, in the local library, absolutely devouring the Inkheart series. It's everything a little kid could dream of in a fantasy book! And there's three of these fat books, what more could you possibly want? And he has an excuse to sit in a warm, safe building for a few hours.

Now imagine, Inkspell becomes his comfort book. Of course it does- every kid had one, and I can't imagine an orphan who grew up alone on the streets of Gotham picking anything other than a story about a strange man helping the opressed and downtrodden in a land he grows to call his own with the help of his family- and The Bluejay is an excellent father to his daughter, too, of course Jason pictured himself as part of that family, as whisked away into that world.

And of course, the rest of the series is wonderful too -Inkheart is where it all began, after all, and Inkdeath is the final triumph over evil!-, but Inkspell is a story about becoming. About learning to be more than you were born as- after all, if Mo the simple bookbinder could become the hero The Bluejay, what could Jason the street orphan become?

Maybe, instead of discovering this book in a library, he found it in the trash. And maybe he wondered, as he read it, why anyone would ever want to throw away the tale of Mo the Blujay, of Meggie the Silvertongue, of Resa the brave swift, of Dustfinger the loyal Fire-Dancer? (And maybe the last one took a while to get there, but he did get there! Eventually! And maybe Jason can understand why it took Dustfinger so long to truly come to trust someone again, because trust is a terribly dangerous thing to give to someone, because you can never really know what they'll do with it.) Maybe he read it through without knowing anything about Capricorn or The Shadow or why they feared the man named Basta, because they hadn't thrown away the first book, only the second. Maybe he wept for the death of Dustfinger, at the very end, because he didn't know that Death wouldn't keep him, because they hadn't thrown away the third book.

Maybe Inkspell found its place among his most treasured possessions. Maybe, when he met Batman and Bruce Wayne in one night and his life changed forever, Inkspell came with him, with its familiar story and characters and world and sorrows.

Maybe one of the first things Bruce did, upon seeing Jason reading that same battered old paperback, was to order Inkheart and Inkdeath and leave them in his room. Maybe that was when Jason started to realize that he wasn't going to leave forever.

(Maybe Jason and Dick would play Motley Folk together, because Dick was in the circus and could most certainly throw knives, even if it gave Bruce a heart attack every time he saw it.)

And maybe, after he could no longer have Robin, he remembered that old paperback book, that old story and that old world, and he thought of a new name for himself.

Bluejay, he thought, as he picked up the book that had been his constant companion for so many years. I'll be The Bluejay.

(I don't really know what this is. I saw some Bluejay!Jason art the other day and just started thinking of the Inkheart trilogy and the fact that Jason would absolutely have read it and probably loved it. And then it spiralled.)