#its imperfect yes but its mine

[queermoths]

hey, cis people! maybe don't talk about top surgery (or any gender-affirming surgery) as being "botched" if a trans person is talking about how our body healed from it!

this is not optional! unless the trans individual in question specifically encourages you to use that language! hope this helps.

[moldspace]

How does it make you feel knowing your little critters are living their lives in other people's homes? :D I feel like it would be amazingly overwhelming to me if my art was just...Out There

😭 it makes my heart so full of gratitude and wonderment!!! i love that they're all having their own adventures apart from me, like they've grown up and left the nest 💕 and I'm always just so amazed and honored that people want to have my work in their home 🥺💖

[shiny-jr]

from POMEFIORE

- Warning: Yes, this is still a yandere thing. You have been warned. Gender-neutral reader. 

- Characters: Vil Schoenheit, Rook Hunt, Epel Felmier.

- Summary: (Continuation, after this “we just got a letter, wonder where it’s from”) You have barred them from entering the safety of Ramshackle Dorm, but they are determined to make their words reach you. Which is why the letters begin arriving at your doorstep.

- Note: Hoping its not too out of character.

Ignihyde   |   Pomefiore   |   Scarabia

Perfume. The carefully sealed envelope reeked of it, like the sweet smell of lavender with spice. The envelope containing the message looked like something you would find when getting an invitation to a ball or a wedding. The envelope was pristine, and the wax sealing it was done so perfectly without a single awkward edge.

It almost looked unnatural with how perfect it appeared. The thick beige parchment was cut evenly, and not a blot of ink strayed from the elegantly curved cursive words that looked like ribbons upon the page. Looks could be deceiving. It was beautiful, but as you might've already guessed, the interior didn't entirely match what was hidden beneath the surface.

To my darling player,

I am at fault and take full responsibility for my actions.

All I've ever wished for, was to admire you. You are the epitome of magnificence, divinity that I can only dream to one day achieve but knowing I will never truly reach. There's an otherworldly sort of allure to you, which drew me in far too close. Much like the man who enhanced himself with wings of wax, but flew too close to the sun so his wings melted and he met a terrible fate. You are the sun, and I was that reckless fool with fake wings.

I allowed myself to get too close, tainting your light with my imperfect presence. Your grace was the warm sunlight on my skin, when everything around me was a horrible darkness. To think, I attempted to put out that light. It was nearly diminished. For that, I should be burned. I'm sorry, so so sorry.

I've thought long and hard on what I could possibly say to you, what sort of response could be adequate enough considering what you mean to me and the delicate situation. It didn't take long for me to arrive to the answer: no response is fitting. It doesn't matter if I pen a letter long enough to rival the river of tears I shed, coat the envelope in gold and ink of silver, with a message that would have moved the seven themselves to weep. It does not change the betrayal that occurred. I betrayed the trust you gave me, and shattered it into millions of pieces. However, know that I'll be on my hands and knees piecing it back together again, even if the shards cause me to bleed, you are worth it.

The stabbing sensation on my skin would be nothing compared to the one in my heart that I feel when I consider the fact that you might despise me. There's nothing more I would want than to see your face, hold your hands and feel the warmth of your skin that's so unlike the coldness of your vessel. Requesting a meeting would be imperious, as I have no right to ask you of this. But if I could, I would love to see you and discuss what comes next, perhaps over lunch. This is just a thought, a wish of mine, but one you are not required to fulfill.

I'd love to believe that I know you and your vessel better than anyone else could even dream of understanding, but I know that is far from the truth. Even as I pampered and polished your precious doll, your secrets continue to escape me. Did you ever hear me, when I brushed and washed Yuu's hair? When I took their freezing cold hands and painted their nails? When kneeled down in front of them to polish their shoes? When I adorned the best luxuries of brand accessories on their body?

I would kneel down to no one else.

There was always this wish, a dream of mine, that one day I might perhaps one day get to pamper you. Not Yuu. But you. Is that a scandalous desire?

Your hands would be warm, and I would hold them as I file your nails. Your arm wouldn't be so rigid and mechanical, you could actually extend it as I slather a creamy scented lotion along your skin. And if you do desired, I could lift your head and apply lipstick to your lips... This is just the process I commonly used while your vessel was under my care.

Although, I would gladly take up the responsibility of nursing you back to health, or any other role you would give me. There are countless things I can accomplish for you. I commonly deal in potent poisons, but I can just as well deal in healing and comforting. I'm skilled in self-defense and various forms of magic, so I can be your companion to protect you from everything that would wish you harm. You know of my business in acting and singing, so even if you wanted nothing else I could be there to entertain or serenade you. I only wish to be with you again, even though I know I'm underserving. I'm selfish.

If you want nothing more, then I have to be satisfied knowing I was in your thoughts for a brief moment. A twisted part of me wants your mind to be plagued by thoughts of me, just as my mind and heart is full of you.

I have to remind myself, that by getting too close I risk being burnt. But, at this point, I do not care for my own safety. I only care for yours, and I do this to keep my sanity. I truly admire you so much, that I cannot adore you from afar behind a rope like sculpture in a museum. I have to stand nearby, inspect your beauty, polish you to a shine, and value you like the priceless treasure that you are. Should someone threaten to chip off even the slightest speck on you, forcing you through more suffering...

I will shatter them into a million pieces, to preserve your peace.

Yours,

Vil Schoenheit

The wonderful aromatic smell that filled your nose brought back some not so pleasant memories. The smell of the earth beneath your feet, the scent of dew collected on every still surface, but above all were fragrant tangs that immediately alerted you to any nearby presence of a student belonging to Pomefiore.

They had chased you through those deep dark woods, like a pack of rabid hounds tracking and hunting a poor wounded rabbit. Besides their shouts and footfall, their perfume gave them away. There was one in particular which you only caught a whiff of only when you had too closely encountered the dormleader. The scent of lavender and spice hit your nose, the same fragrance on the letter.

"That reeks! Burn it!" A certain feline hissed, covering his little black nose with his paws. You swore the fragrance was beginning to form a migraine at the front of your skull. If the smell was strong for you, it must've been much worse for Grim since he had a superior sense of smell.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, if the smell wasn't that strong and it wasn't the particular scent. Like vanilla or freshly baked bread. If that were the case, Grim might've insisted on keeping it or even be tempted to take a bite out of the sheet.

But it was lavender and spice. So the letter was tossed into a corner several feet away, left to an unknown fate that you would ultimately decide later. When you glanced back to Grim, you saw him holding and sniffing another letter.

For a long moment his sniffed the rolled up paper, his black nose twitching as he was likely just searching for another gift to claim as a snack. After a few seconds, he discarded it, sliding it over to you before he opted to dig through the pile like a raccoon digging into a heap of trash. "Meh, this one smells boring."

"Boring, huh?"

Boring wouldn't exactly be your choice of adjectives to describe this letter. It wasn't an envelope, it was a scroll tied by ribbon, attached to an arrow. An arrow, of all things, was likely the messenger for this message. Thankfully, this one didn't smell of anything. Even without a fragrance to match to a profile, the arrow was a dead giveaway.

Opening it up and using your hands to smooth out the curled edges, you blatantly ignored the wax seal over the ribbon. Once it was fully unsealed, a few single flower petals drifted down from the paper. Just another mess you would sweep up later and decide whether to dispose of it or not, like the first letter from the dormleader. For this one you were a pinch anxious. The sender was not like the others who came before.

Trickster,

It relieves me to see that you are finally safe.

To see you rest and heal in tranquility, nothing steadies my anxiously beating heart more than knowing you are sheltered. Well guarded by a trio of ghosts and the courageous feline Grim, I have no need to stress over your wellbeing with them acting as your valiant knights in shining armor! Although, I would also wish to join their ranks, blessed by your grace and fit to serve as your shield. However...

I am conscious enough to know that I am nowhere near fitting, no matter how much I may wish to reach out and shield you from every evil. In that most vital moment, I had failed to recognize you. I may have spared you from the sharpness of my blade, but I couldn't have guarded you from the suffering that was to come afterwards.

I'm so deeply and truly sorry. Many sleepless nights have followed, since and even before our first fateful encounter in those woods of the Pomefiore estate. Before our encounter, I was conflicted. I wanted to detest you, but I could not, I thought there must be a reason this was all occurring. I couldn't slumber peacefully, so long as I knew there was turbulence surrounding your beloved vessel. After our encounter, I couldn't get the vision of you fragile, frightened, and wounded, out of my mind. Raising a blade against you, who were a stranger shrouded in infamy, made my very heart stop.

Now I know why I was so unexplainably drawn to you. It was not due to the wild frenzy that overtook the entire campus, or a burning hatred to destroy, or even my own desire to discover answers I desperately wanted, although that last one may have played a role. The reason as to I was so enticed by you, a cunning 'imposter,' was because my heart recognized you. It must have been my very soul that pulled me towards you, and perhaps my own nature as well. My body recognized you, my heart and my soul led me to you, but I was blinded by my sorrows.

Throughout the few years I've had on this wonderful earth, I've seen countless peoples, and you are unlike any of which I've seen. In the places I've been, I have witnessed poetry be written by masters of literacy, melodies sung by the most angelic voices ever heard on a stage, and devoted worshippers in holy places kneel in solemn prayer. Somehow you as a single being, or entity, encompass all those elements into one. My aim is to admire beauty, and I see beauty in its finest form when I look at you.

I truly understand what you mean to me, and to others.

But at the same time, you remain a mystery. And I believe I'm speaking for all those who admire you when I say this. We could only dream of truly understanding you, when we only had Yuu.

So, I try to make sense of it all in what I do understand, in the beautiful things I adore that I associate with you who I cherish. In literature, music, photography, I see you in everything all at once. When I read poetic lines, I think I could share it with you. When I hear beautiful music, I imagine you might enjoy listening to the tune too. When I discover stunning sceneries, I plan to bring you there someday to share a moment with you.

Now, I can make sense of it. I understand how the poets of old felt as they penned the love and awe they felt towards the Fairest Queen. It's a rare sentiment that cannot easily be put into words, a feeling as if it held my delicate heart and squeezed when I so much as thought of you. When a song and its composer can bring an audience to tears, I understand that now too. Hearing your voice for the first time, formed a knot in my throat that prevented me from saying much. Catching that first glimpse of you, was like gazing at a perfect painted portrait hanging in a museum.

My dearest player, I am a Hunt. I am naturally inquisitive by nature, and my fondness for you comes just as naturally. You may consider it wrong, but I will continue to offer my loyalty even if you may not accept it.

My aim is to one day unlock your secrets, solve your mysteries, and understand you fully, learn what makes you tick and what drives you forward. Perhaps when the day comes when you've forgiven me for my crimes, I can proudly stand in your presence and recite the poems I have written in your name. I could admire you everyday from then on, and remind you everyday of your worth. Then, I will protect you, from all harm, and I will not allow myself to fail you once again. This is a promise.

Should you need me, I will be there.

Yours,

Rook Hunt

There was something that felt... off. Compared to some of the previous letters, these were rather tame. Of course, there was the desperation and fascination evident in their words captured by the ink, but it was nowhere near as extreme as other cases.

Although, it was still chilling, to read the thoughts they penned.

In your hand you held the arrow the letter had been connected to, feeling its thin shape and the sharpened head at its tip that nearly pricked your finger. The vice dormleader had excellent aim, and had he not been so kind, arrows like this one in your hand could've easily been driven through your flesh and caught you against a tree where you would've been helpless in their grasps.

And yet, despite the opportunities he had, he didn't let a single weapon touch you. All it would take was one arrow, one moment and he could've ended you where you stood. But he spared you. However, there's the lingering doubt that maybe the primary reason he did it was he hoped you had answers to the malfunctioning vessel. You couldn't be sure exactly why he spared you, when everyone had wanted to torment and imprison you or worse.

Beside you, there's a large crunch and a content purr. When you look over, there's Grim, happily munching away on an apple he held with his little paws. He sank his fangs into the fruit, content that he finally found an offering that appeased him. In front of him was a small basket, filled with more juicy red apples.

"These are great! And, even though I was the one who found them, I'll let you have some!" Grim picked up another apple from the basket, sticking his claws into the red peel and offering it with his little grin. Nevermind the fact that these were probably meant as a gift for you and not for him, but you didn't mind. They would have likely ended up in the trash anyways, at least someone could enjoy them.

"You should really have one. You haven't eaten all day."

"I'm not hungry, but thanks. You can have them." Ever since everything happened, you weren't too keen on accepting gifts, especially if they were consumable. For now, the only places you'd accept food from, was the cafeteria you'd venture too at the dead of night when no one was there, or Sam's shop.

In the spot of the basket where Grim had removed the apple, there was a white layer at the bottom of the basket. Perplexed, you reached in and found an envelope hidden by the piled apples.

Unsurprisingly, the envelope smelled of sweet things, apples, cinnamon, and freshly baked pies. The envelope itself was nothing special, it had no intricate wax seal or marking. It was loosely sealed shut by a brown piece of string, and covered in some white and pink apples blossoms.

The inside was less impressive, more authentic, which was refreshing in a way. Smooth cursive flowed into slightly choppy print scrawled out in uneven lines, before eventually returning back to cursive at the end of some sentences. It appears parts were rushed judging by the blotted ink stains at multiple periods. The apples were a clue as to who the sender may be, but why would the letter be hidden in a gift?

Dear Player,

If you're reading this, that means my letter got through.

Where do I even start? It seems right that I first say sorry. I'm sorry. It sounds like a load of bull, but I am sorry. Apologizing in all these other ways, won't make this any better, so, I thought this might help. I'm gonna be completely honest with you, no lies, no tricks, just the blunt truth. I'm not going to be showing you these pretty sides I polished to impress and to mask all the ugly. I'll tell you everything that's been going on. That's something only I have the guts to do.

The reason I hid this letter was because Vil and Rook have been checking anything I want to write to you. They want to keep up this positive front, they wanna at least pretend to be perfect enough to be near you. At least, that's what I think. Although I know we won't ever come close to that.

Instead of trying to write a real and honest letter for you, it feels like I was writing some essay for Professor Trein to grade. I'd have to write and write, and even if the grammar was right, the message wasn't. They want to make you think everything's okay, when it's not. I can only imagine what elegant crap they were spewing in their own fancy letters, while we're actually all a mess. We've been like this since Yuu broke down. I try to understand them, and in a way I do, but sometimes they freak me out. Yeah, I got my own problems trying to comprehend all this chaos, but they're different.

Is everyone else in the other dorms this extreme? This miserable and on the verge of breaking? Maybe you won't believe me, or maybe you'll realize that there's some truth to what I'm saying. Here, in Pomefiore, I can only tell you what I've seen. These days, Rook's smile seems strained, like he's about to snap, his eyes are sharp and watchful. The only time his smile is normal is when he's looking at some photo, but he won't ever let me see what it is. Vil, well, the only sign he's still alive and kicking are the packages that come in for him, new makeup and all that stuff, things he's using to craft that perfect mask. I did see him one night out in the hall, I swear there was mascara down his face but I was too put off to approach when he was like that.

Don't ever tell them I told you all this. Vil would probably skin me alive and wear me as a robe, and Rook... I don't want to think about what he would do... I'm kidding by the way, but seriously, don't ever tell them. I told you I would be honest to you, so here's my reason. I thought that maybe telling you all this would score me points with you, get you to trust me again. Even if this is a rotten way to go about it, I don't care.

I am rotten, and I won't hide it like them.

If I can't even be honest with you, then do I really deserve a second chance at all?

Scratch that. I don't deserve a second chance at all after everything that happened. What I did was downright terrible, but I'm trying my damnedest to be deserving again. And I won't stop trying, even if part of me thinks it's useless. I never cared for Yuu, the only reason I acted for them was because it was you behind them. My goal is to eventually be beside you, the real you.

Although, a basket of apples is a crummy way to go about things, but think of it like a peace offering. Just cause I can't get word to you, don't mean I give up. I'm not giving up. Ever. Everyone's going about their own roundabout ways of mending things. If you want to hear more, I'll gladly tell you. I don't think anyone else would tell you the truth of what's happening, because in a sense everyone wants to appeal to you with the best image of themselves they can possible portray. Don't believe all the hogwash they send you. If whoever sends something and seems to be stable, they're not. Not completely.

I'm awfully ashamed to admit it, but I'm not okay. Not since everything started, and not since everything went to hell when shit hit the fan. I'm not okay without you, and I got myself to blame for that.

This letter is helping. The thought of communicating with you again, even if I can't see your face or hear your voice and its reduced to words on paper, it's more than I could ask for. So, if you want me to spill the beans, just ask. If not, if there's no response, well, I'll get a bit of comfort thinking you might've read this. Besides, I have hope with each attempt I'll make. I'm not just rottenly selfish, I'm stubborn to a fault. And if I have to knock down someone else's chances to get closer, then that's fine by me.

All you gotta do is talk to me.

Until then, hoping to speak to you soon,

Epel Felmier

[tofupixel]

ive been thinking about recent events some more and i want to talk about how to protect yourself from AI!

(mine on the left vs the ai copy 🤢)

although it doesn't really threaten my position, i still think it's important to fight it as much as possible, because it may still threaten our friends and peers' jobs. and it definitely impacts the confidence new artists have in trying out art and sticking with it.

anyyway, it's no surprise i've been glazing my art for some time now, but unfortunately clean versions of my work are still floating around the internet/pinterest from way before (which is what they used for the AI copy!!) i'm past the point of caring about any theft/reproduction otherwise i would be very bothered all the time!!

but i just wanted to note that glazing DOES work to stop img2img copying like what happened to me with this piece:

so it's worth using. and as a pixel artist, even the clean one is still imperfect for a non-pixel-art model- it can't really understand how to interpret the clusters.

as for pixel art models, my friend @ilta222 is writing up a guide for how to protect against that specifically. please follow her!

yes, good pixel-art AI models do exist and are tricker to spot, but they're really not that pervasive at all, and you shouldn't worry too much.

anyway all this is really not something to worry about, but do protect yourself if you're able, and if someone copies you it's not a big deal. try not to let it get to you.

that dudes posts only get 2 notes unless its 100 people roasting him, so who gives a shit really? its no threat to us lol, they stay irrelevant x

btw im not even sure that those mass-ai accounts are even people. im pretty sure they are just automated bots, they will give up soon once they realize its not worth the running power. nobogy GAF

bye bye!! <3

[popponn]

in perfection and in imperfection.

summary: he is loving, so much so, despite everything and because of 'everything' he calls as you. (a short headcanons of them as boyfriend, again.)

notes: january feels like it will be a busy month for me. in a good way, it's a good feeling. maybe this is also a sign i will meet rl isagi. those things aside, happy new year everyone. good luck for this year too. have this very fit of madness hcs. warnings: none, just fluff of downbad & lovesick boys, reader's gender unspecified.

characters: isagi, chigiri, rin

isagi yoichi—

is so understanding and sharp that you will never feel uncared for. most probably also got a list of your favorite things & important dates in his notes & calendar. even noel noa doesn't get that privilege. he is so downbad that everyone just accepts everything is second to you (and soccer).

is the type that gets so into you once you get his heart. do you worry that you might be #2 soccer? stay still babe, at some point you kind of mix in with 'the soccer' too honestly. every first goal? dedicated in your name. first person to call after a match? you—no matter how short or long it will be, it has to be you. he is away for a match overseas? you better be the one who gets a sleep call schedule ready because when yoichi wants something yoichi will somehow do it. and if you try to praise him—despite all the years of growing confidence—he still gets flustered like a boy with his first crush when it's you. it's as endearing as it is embarrassing to him. if someone points it out he will state it with pride though—after all, his feelings for you are one of his pride.

however, is also the type of guy who would rather shoulder as much as possible. he does it out of love, sure, but having him trying to swallow some problem under the guise of "forcing you to change something is a big no" is just asking for a bigger problem in the long run. so, you do have to be the one who gets the serious talks starting—and he sometimes could get really stubborn even though he is one of the most communicative ones so get ready for that. the thing with yoichi is that he really has to get it to accept it.

chigiri hyoma—

is a beautiful ikemen who walks with the charm of a shoujo manga lead maxed out. as in if this guy falls for you he just naturally acts like a shoujo lead who came to life. and he is also one of the most fashionable guys who puts attention and care on his and your appearance. try to aim for the cutest couple award and high chance you will win.

is also a very dedicated man. he will make sure you know how much he treasures you and it shows. he is not the tidiest person, he is also a pretty demanding guy, but with you? "fine, okay. i'm doing this just for you, you know," he says and hyoma doesn't lie. he will do anything for you. the amount of trust he puts on you is really evident too and he is not one to shy away from saying it. also, trust that this guy will gladly run across tokyo on a lazy monday morning during his rare break just to deliver you anything if you ask. he will demand kisses, yes, but that's also a benefit in its own way.

but, he is also very moody and, admittedly, impatient. so when he gets into this sort of mood you have to keep your head clear and deal with him until his head cools down. he won't hurt you—he will never—but without a doubt his attitude and wording could definitely drag your anger out. he also tends to focus on one thing and one thing only when he gets like this, while it has its benefits, during these times you have to be really patient when trying to talk to him.

itoshi rin—

is the type of guy who truly embodies "it's the small things". also, he is so attentive and combining this with the fact he is more into action than words—you honestly get yourself a gold mine of top-tier 'act of service' bf.

is actually very affectionate once you can translate his silent languages. he is always close to you at every chance he gets. it's not even funny. some people could translate this as some guard dog behavior, some braver souls translate this like a kid following the elder around, but honestly rin just likes being close to you. it calms him down in a way that also somehow manages to keep him awake—which is a nicer way to put 'this guy sometimes barely blinks when he is staring at you'. your happiness is one of his top priorities and he will bite someone literally if he has to just for that. this is how bad it is. but all in all, all of this is a way for him to keep an eye for you and be ready to assist you in anything—you need to take something? you need him to carry something? you want to buy something? just leave it to him, it will make him happy too. if you get overwhelmed? tell him, this guy is actually really quick to adjust things the moment he gets it. and for you? he will somehow do it even faster.

with all that being said though, this guy could get confusing at times. when he gets into a particularly negative thought, his first response would be to bark out his emotions and afterward distance himself. clearly, communication with him is hard. but despite all the silent treatment you get, he still wants to have you close—while being the one who keeps his distance from you. dealing with rin when he is being like this truly requires maturity and delicacy that probably rivals an esper skills.

[highvern]

there are 13 songs in ariana grande’s new album and also 13 members you know where. given your mixtape series expertise, i’d really love to hear your thoughts on who fits which song!

thank you so much for your work. reading them (and refreshing your blog) has seriously become part of my daily routine!

i know im on hiatus but i listened to the album bc of this ask lmao. i said this in the chat but if ms. home wrecker makes more songs like we can't be friends then i may turn a blind eye to her endeavors.

no explanation just the lyric that made me think of the member

Seungcheol: supernatural

need your hands all up on my body, like the moon needs the stars

Jeonghan: true story

ill play the villain if you need me to

Joshua: imperfect for you

messy, completely distressed but im not like that since i met you

Jun: ordinary things

no matter what we do, there's never gonna be an ordinary thing

Soonyoung: eternal sunshine

now its like im looking in the mirror, hope you feel alright when you're in her

Wonwoo: the boy is mine

i can't believe my mind, the boy is divine

Jihoon: We Can't Be Friends

you cling to your papers and pens, wait until you like me again

Seokmin: don't wanna break up again

its breaking my heart, to keep breaking yours again

Mingyu: i wish i hated you

wish there was worse to you, i wish you were worse to me

Minghao: Saturn Returns Interlude

"wake up" its time for you to get real about life

Seungkwan: Bye

bye-bye, boy, bye (very poetic, i know)

Vernon: intro (end of the world)

and if it all ended tomorrow, would you be the one on mine?

Chan: yes, and?

come on and walk this way through the fire

--

@tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @horanghaezone

© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.

[hannie-dul-set]

sunwater [teaser].

SYNOPSIS. this is how you get a merman boyfriend.

PAIRING. park sunghoon x female! reader. GENRE. merman! sunghoon, artist! reader, slight college! au, strangers to lovers, romance, modern fantasy, humor, suggestive. WARNINGS. swearning, drowning, dirty/inappropriate jokes, mentions of sex, things might get a lil spicy but No Explicit Smut, mermaid politics, reader says and does a lot of questionable shit (might add more as i progress!) WORD COUNT. full fic: est. 20k more or less. teaser: 1.3k RELEASE DATE. late july to early august.

NOTE. finally thought of a title last night and immediately made the header so i can post the teaser HAUHASDH. stemmed from a convo with a friend of mine (i quote "u reject every man woman person that tries to date u. little do they know, ur type isn't human 🤩").

anyway, send me an ask/dm to be added to the taglist! preview under the cut.

GANGNEUNG-SI, GANGWON-DO. The drive to the east coast is always nostalgic, like fragments of previous summers are powdered into the air and with every inhale of the breeze outside the car window fills you with the past— scraped knees from the rocky beachside, saltwater daydreams under bunny-shaped clouds, and the smell of paint and the sea melting together in early morning dews. It takes a little over an hour for the cab to roll up to your summer neighborhood. It takes twenty minutes of walking to get to your family’s vacation house situated right beside the sea.

“Welcome home.”

Your words echo in the empty living room and your own voice greets you with remembrance. A smile crawls onto your lips. Eggshell walls, sandy brown wooden panels, your favorite blue sofa matching the stripes on the rug underneath it, and the sheer cream curtains painted with the orange spills of the sunset through wall to ceiling windows— it’s a still life painting of last year’s summer. Prior to that, you still had plants around, but they kept dying, getting replaced and dying again until your neglectful guilt finally hit you. Throughout highschool, your family diligently spent time here every December and July. Now, it’s just you every summer and the caretaker that comes by every few months.

“I should call mom after dinner,” you hum, washing the dishes you found in the cupboards. Your first night here always ends early. By sunfall, you have a quick meal, wash up, tuck yourself into bed upstairs and allow yourself to be lulled to sleep by the sloshing waves of the nighttime sea. 

Four in the morning is when you start to feel alive.

The first thing you do upon waking up, pitch black sky with the sun still hiding behind the oceanline, you grab one of the bags you left on your living room sofa, slinging it over your shoulder before picking up a folded up easel leaned against the wall and two of the blank canvas panels stacked beside it. Your body moves mechanically, practiced and familiar movements— sliding the glass door open to the backyard and closing, feeling the sand wither underneath your bare soles until soft grains blend into jagged stone as you climb up the natural staircase of rocks, leading up to a solid flat plateau.

Is it safe to be painting on top of a cliff when you’ve just woken up? No. Have you been doing this every day since you were fourteen every summer you spend at your vacation home? Yes. 

When the sun starts to rise, you become invigorated with life that it almost feels like rebirth.

You haven’t fallen to your death yet, and you don’t have any plans to slip and succumb to its cold hands any time soon. Not until you manage to perfectly capture the image before your eyes at this very moment; neither your memories nor your imperfect renditions can compare to the vibrancy of the orange stained waves, the clarity white seafoam kissing its surface, and the beauty of flaming disk peeking from the firmament where the sky meets the sea in all its ephemeral glory.

It’s five-thirty when the sun fully emerges from the water. Your legs give in, and you fall onto the rocky ground with a sigh. All you could finish is the underpaint today. You’ll continue working tomorrow. 

Whenever someone asks you— why the fuck are you doing this? you never have a satisfying answer. It’s an exercise, it’s a routine; it’s the only time when I feel like I’m painting something worthwhile. You have countless pieces in galleries and exhibits, meaningless works with the highest praises from your professors, but they’re nothing worth the buzz of your fingertips whenever you chase the sunrise with your own paint-stained hands until it inevitably, ritualistically flies beyond your devoted reach.

The strain in your leg muscles takes forever to recover. You should remember to bring a stool tomorrow because although you don’t feel anything besides adrenaline whenever you attack the canvas with your brush, the aftertaste can be a little brutal. 

“Can’t you stay a little longer tomorrow?” you mumble to the orange tinted sky as you lay on the uneven ground, arms and legs spread out in vulnerability. When it doesn’t respond, you groan and pull yourself up. You could leave your painting materials here, but the probability of them getting thrown into the ocean by the wind is too high for your peace of mind.

As you collect your paint brushes and gather your extra paint tubes, your eyes keep getting pulled by the ocean’s songs. The scene before you has been imprinted in your retinas since you were seven. So when something appears amiss or changes, you can pick it apart immediately. A shift in the tides. A crack in the rock formation. Even a floating piece of driftwood from afar can’t slip away from your attention.

So when you find something— rather, someone emerging from the warm blue near the sprouting rocks, you drop your things and pace quickly to the edge to get a better look.

This is odd. This entire plot of land is private property, and it’s the only way to get into the water besides the island across it, which is still at least twenty miles away. Your eyebrows furrow, wondering how they got here, but when you get to the edge of the cliff, the rough terrain biting into your feet, your concerns are suddenly thrown into the water underneath you.

You can see the intruder’s face clearly now. Whoever he is, he’s breathtaking.

He’s gotten closer to the shore, resting his arms on the inky rock, half submerged into blue depths. The saltwater beads glisten like jewels on his porcelain skin, splashing sunlight into the water when he throws his head back before letting the ocean consume him once more. There’s a flicker of gold that splashes above the surface in a steady rhythmic wave, slowly moving further away.

You have found your new ocean sunrise. You don’t intend on letting him get away.

Splash!

Suddenly, all the warmth from your skin is stripped away as your body sinks into the sea, engulfed by the thick raptures of its waves. Though having been enamored by it for the better part of your life, you have never stepped into the ocean’s embrace— never dared to corrupt its ethereal beauty with your feeble humanity— that is, until now. You slowly feel heavier, and each second hurts more than the last, like the sun itself has entered your lungs and is burning you from the inside. Maybe you should have learned how to swim. Maybe you shouldn’t have jumped off the cliff in the rushing hopes of catching a fleeting stranger’s attention.

No one should underestimate the lengths an artist would go for their art. Just when your consciousness starts to slip, you see a spark in the dark water, slowly approaching before your eyelids flutter to a close. You can hear nothing. You feel nothing but the cold, until all of the sudden you’re gasping, coughing out water from your lungs and the jagged rock you’re laying on sinks its teeth into your wet palms.

There’s one person who could have saved you. You can’t believe your deranged plan worked.

You open your eyes and look above, your still beating heart burning into a frenzy and instead of the sunrise sky, your gaze meets a pair of stygian gemstones muddled with concern. A few droplets of water from his damp hair fall onto your cheeks. 

“Are you okay?”

Burnt stars form a constellation on his face. His lips are full and painted by coral hues. 

“I want to burn you in my memory.”

He’s even more breathtaking up close, it’s almost impossible to believe. Your gaze draws down, noticing how you’re caged between his arms, noticing the patchy waist bag loosely hanging on his bare hips over a makeshift skirt of fabric, noticing the iridescent gold flakes blending into his skin, shimmering under the sunlight from where his lower half should be.

You flit your eyes back up. His are now widened in panic.

Splash!

sunwater. © hannie-dul-set, 2023.

[siflshonen]

Todoroki: The Mountain, the Hawk, and the Haunted House Part 1

Link to the Todoroki family presentation: Part 1 | Part 2

Link to the Bakugo presentation 2.0: Part 1 | Part 2 | 1.0: Part 1 | Part 2

Link to the Kirishima presentation 1.0 | 2.0

Link to the Todoroki presentation

Link to the Deku presentation

Link to the Uraraka-Bakugo-Toga presentation

Link to the Shigaraki-All for One presentation

Link to the Spinner-Shigaraki-Bakugo-Deku presentation

Link to the BNHA presentations masterpost

In the online fandom system, domestic abuse offenses are considered especially heinous. In the My Hero Academia fandom, the dedicated fans who create the discourse around these fictitious felonies are members of an elite squad known as the So (you think these) Victims (are the most special characters) Unit, or SVU.

These aren’t their stories.

Whenever a work from one culture or language is brought to another (or even if the work stays in the same culture but transitions from page to screen), the translators, localizers, and creative team handling it can only do so much to help the new audience understand what the original work communicates through subtext or cultural associations by deciding how much of the work to leave out or change. In other words, the team must choose how to fail.

In the case of the Todoroki family, I feel there is much lost in translation. Or, at least, there is much lost if the reader doesn’t share the work’s original cultural background. I’m going to try to make my point with a poem.

Four children are mine

And I love my four children:

An arrow to ward away the darkness

aimed for the light of the dawn;

The winter, who brings the night again, beautiful and longer;

Next the summer,

who returns the sun at its zenith;

And small is the leader with clear sky and dusk rain in his eyes.

Four children are mine

And with four comes death

The arrow flies too high from the bow

The arrow flies but falls to darkness

From a shrine in the mountain, he aims for me.

My son haunts the mountain near the peak

I fear the mountain I cannot climb

I fear the arrow meant for me.

Winter settles quietly

Summer turns away from me

The leader makes a mirror of my heart

I tell my son I love him

And I look in the mirror yet I cannot face it but to watch it crack

My son is my spitting image

I tell my son I love him

I tell my son

Without looking into his eyes,

I tell my son I love him

As the arrow flies.

This poem is about Enji Todoroki and his children - the four he actually fathered and the one for whom he unknowingly acted as a surrogate. The poem vaguely alludes to the meanings of the children’s names with one notable change - for Shoto Todoroki, instead of calling him “charred frozen” - which is basically how his first name is written - I called him “leader”.

When written with different characters in Japanese, “Sho” can mean “leader.” So, while “leader” isn’t the true meaning of Shoto’s name, I decided that it was thematically fitting to use since he’s also the “hero of his family” and leads the way for them to continue into the future. In changing the meaning of Shoto’s name, I chose how to fail. Yes, it’s imperfect, but by putting in the work, I can at least show you how I arrived at the destination to help you better understand what you are reading. Much of what I’m about to write about falls into this category - it’s not exactly the perfect explanation or whole, unaltered, canon truth, but is supplementary information to help you come to your own conclusions.

Anyway, now that I’ve told you the poem is about Enji and his children, it probably comes off a little differently, huh? That’s the power of writing allegories and using recurring motifs. If you have not figured it out already, you’ll learn soon enough what words symbolize each child.

Now, let’s break down this already broken family. There are so many damn Todorokis that I’m going to do something very, very rude and call them each by their first name for the sake of clarity (and also because, frankly, it’s a more honest representation of how I actually feel about these characters.)

What is the Todoroki Family?

The challenges facing the Todoroki family - such as the pressures Enji feels, the disappointment and internal crisis Toya inherits, the social and marital prison in which Rei finds herself trapped, the nature of the public’s feelings of betrayal at the reveal of Enji’s family dysfunction, the social snafus and ugly family dynamics in which Natsuo and Fuyumi are often caught - are distinctly shaped by the series’ Japanese society. There’s a special je ne sais quoi quality to their family drama that feels authentic even to me, and I’m a foreigner to these cultural tropes. It’s a little disturbing.

But, besides a fictional family, what are the Todorokis? What purpose do they serve in the story? What is their purpose within the narrative, and what is the purpose of the narrative in which they exist?

Well, on the one hand, the Todoroki household can function as an allegory for traditional Japanese families, society, and power structures (we could use the word “patriarchy”) crumbling under the pressures of modernity and a changing world, which is similar to how the Shimura household functions in Shigaraki’s backstory, or even the story of All Might’s retirement. On the other hand, they are a case study of a deeply flawed family that, if the magic-powers quirk element was not present, could exist in the real world.

They make for good drama. But every member of the household serves a purpose in the narrative, in the family, and in the meta. Usually, these three things work together for a greater purpose.

What is Enji Todoroki?

I didn’t say, “Who is Enji Todoroki?”. I said, “What is Enji Todoroki?”

If you said, “an asshole and shit father,” well, yeah, you’re sure on to something! But it’s not helpful to disengage with a major character in a work if you want to understand what the hell they’re doing in the narrative. I’m not telling anyone to like Enji, or any Todoroki, but I am asking that you entertain the concepts behind them with an open mind, if not an open heart.

What is Enji Todoroki? Much of this should be obvious in any language, but I’m still going to break it down.

The manga tells us pretty blatantly that he is a man from an older generation struggling to remain relevant in a new and changing world. He is ambitious, prideful, hardworking, hypocritical, and wholly dedicated to his job. He’s the patriarch in a household structure that is no longer relevant and coming apart at the seams. But most of all, Enji is afraid that nothing he does will ever be enough.

What is Enji Todoroki? Enji is someone who tries his hardest at anything he does even when it sends him to ruin.

Enji and Effort; Enji and Enjo

In my Bakugo and Deku presentations, I mention that the concept of talent as a fixed quality is predominantly accepted in the west while a common eastern perspective posits that talent is something developed over time. The distinctly Japanese Enji and his personal conflict over the existence of the “natural born”, western-coded All Might thrusts these implied concepts of talent from subtext (not that they were particularly hard to identify throughout the manga) into blatant text. And I’m not just talking about the moment where Enji thinks to himself, “I have always envied natural-born superheroes.”

The written characters for Enji’s given name means effort. The name also sounds like another word for “fuckin’ honkin’ bigass fire”, Enjo, but for our discussion, Enji means effort. Endeavor, his self-chosen hero name, also implies the application of effort.

Everything about this man is defined by his efforts, even when they are in vain. Everything.

He pours his effort into becoming Japan’s greatest Hero. He pours his efforts into escaping the fate of his father. He pours his efforts into making the most terrible domestic choices possible to try to be enough for his family. He pours his efforts into atoning for his transgressions against his family, and then again for those against society. And it is not enough. He knows it is not enough, it never will be enough. Not one thing he has ever done in his life has been enough for him, enough for his family, enough for society. It is never enough. This is his burden. 

You don’t have to feel bad for him about it, mind you. I’m just telling you that it is, functionally, his core struggle.

Enji poured every bit of himself into looking away from his son Toya and into running away from him. It’s going to take every bit of effort within himself to stand his ground and face his son again, and even then, he is still going to need help. Perhaps that’s pathetic, but even Enji knew he was only going to be a professional Hero, never a superhero.

Enji is a man who believes, who is basically required to believe, who likely cannot continue to exist if he does not believe, that his value and justification for being is defined by his ability to pull himself up by his bootstraps, or to just keep struggling in the endeavor. 

He pours his effort into everything he does and curses his own weaknesses. Even struggling takes effort.

Japan's Burning Soul: Notes on National Pride and Flame Quirks

In my Kirishima presentation, I talk extensively about kouha and their manly aesthetic as it applies to symbols of Japan. What the presentation doesn’t talk about are flame motifs.

In Japan, flames are seen as purifying. They are also seen as manly, and not just in the way Kirishima defines it. There’s several phrases in Japan that talk about stuff like “a burning soul” or even “Japan’s burning soul” or the “blazing spirit” of a Japanese youth. Well, I think these are just about as tacky as they sound but in the same kind of boyish, tacky-cool way most shonen anime can be.

I’m talking about the flame motif on festival jackets. I’m talking about every time Galo from Promare talks about his “flaming firefighter soul”. To some extent, I’m talking about the flames on the Hokage jacket in Naruto (Minato’s and Naruto’s jackets get the flames as a nod to their shared mentor Jiraiya, who is a whole-ass conversation about masculinity in culture, theater, and mythology in and of himself.) These examples are indicative of each of these characters’ pride in their masculinity and in their nationality. Enji’s flame quirk and his constant use of flames as a brand are no exception to this trend.

Some minor characters, and later Dabi, allude to the fact that flame-based quirks are somewhat common in MHA. I’m not completely certain if the prevalence of flame quirks is also meant to indicate that these quirk holders share the same sort of “flaming spirit”, background, national pride, or even miscellaneous political views, but somehow I get the feeling that it does.

These people are, on some level, connected in that they possess the flaming soul of (masculine, old, patriarchal) Japan. The existence of Pro Hero Endeavor is a representation of the traditional, conservative Japan’s soul. All Might may wear red, white, and blue (and yellow like a yellow-haired westerner) to represent a certain set of foreign ideals, but Enji wears the red and the blue with distinctly Japanese pride.

The Colors of a Nation

Red and white, the colors of the Japanese flag, have strong cultural connotations through Japanese architecture, festivals, and shinto practices. (Please keep in mind that colors can mean a lot of things in every culture depending on context, and in Japan, different shades of the same colors can also hold distinct meanings. For example, certain shades of blue are often worn by villains in theater, but blue is not always “evil” or “villainous” by default.) But the color that I personally associate with Japan is blue - specifically, anything dyed with the aizome technique.

Aizome clothing, or clothing dyed with indigo, transitioned from being a nobility-only thing to one of the few colors that commoners could wear starting in the early 1600s - because by then, bright colors were exclusive to the nobility. The indigo dye is also popular for its antibacterial, insect repellent, and flame retardant properties. Firefighters wore it. Samurai wore it under their armor. So it’s not surprising to me that Endeavor’s Hero costume, and that of his son, would use fabric in a particular hue of dark blue.

Also? If you wanted to know? Aizome is used to dye Japanese blue jeans today. Hey, Best Jeanist!

Anyway, Enji is dressed in the color of the common Japanese man, the firefighter, the samurai, the noble laborer or honorable servant - but definitely not of high nobility.

We don’t know a ton about Enji’s background in detail, we know he wasn’t born ungodly rich. We know his father died. We know he went to UA. He made money from his Hero career, and married into a pedigree. Yes, he chose Rei because she had an ice quirk, but got the bonus of clout and old world connections.

So, uh, yes, the marriage of Enji and Rei was one of new money and big ambition married to old nobility and traditional values, and that’s true even when taking the kids out of the equation. But more on Rei and the marriage later.

Unpacking Enji's Envy of All Might

The majority of Japan’s political scene is conservative. (Look at the ideology column in that table, NOT just the name of the party. If you’re a westerner, I realize that identifying which ones are conservative is going to be particularly difficult to do given their translated names.) The Jiminto, or Liberal Democratic Party (again, look at the ideology column, NOT JUST THE NAME OF THE PARTY. Remember that “liberal” and “democratic” can hold different connotations in different countries!) was founded in 1955 and, despite having a nebulous identity beyond being “kinda to the right”, continues to hold a significant majority. Over the years, the party has commonly been seen as reliable, stable, and able to get the job done. Well, except for during those periods of time when the scandals came out.

This is not unlike how the public of MHA saw Endeavor. Well, until the scandals came out.

Now, I do not think it is correct to say that Enji = the Jiminto and leave it at that. (I would, however, call him a personification of Japan’s modern patriarchy, or at least something pretty damn close.) His dogged, openly vocalized grudge against All Might is more extreme than what the majority of the Jiminto might openly express, especially considering their consensus of policy regarding the US. I only want to give some context to the longer-standing political scene of Japan as it affects the modern day.

See, while Japan and the US have had an enduring relationship and are, uh, well, allies now, the older generations of Japan, particularly in rural areas, still hold deep grudges against the States and are bitterly, bitterly angry at the cultural imperialism and the military takeover and the government policy changes and the economic changes and the, well, the everything. Actually, the mutual cycle of envy between the Japanese and US citizens detailed in that Times article is important to remember from both perspectives. There’s old bias against each country lingering in both directions, and, while not a direct reference to how it remains in the Japanese population, understanding how it affected the creation of Japanese internment camps in the US is very illuminating in understanding the public US sentiment about the Japanese before WWII then after it.

When Enji, (or Endeavor), discusses his inferiority complex, he gives away the game and makes the subtext of the rampant western envy present in many of the characters in the work burst out into just plain text.

While Toshinori Yagi is a Japanese man, the power he inherited, or what Enji (and the world) wrongly believed was “natural-born talent” (a western concept), blatantly signals “western power” through his costume and art style (US comics!) and he represents the “band-aid” of temporary western military and socio-political power imposed upon Japan.

The US is considered a superpower, after all.

That said, I do feel that giving the western-appearance clout (and magic quirk) to the Japanese Yagi aptly communicates that there is nothing naturally special about the US or its citizens, or really anyone who has power. All of that misunderstood “special glow” or “flawless perfection” or “incontestable strength” are just appearances, presentation, circumstances, and luck - nothing more and nothing less. Yagi (who is, again, Japanese, so this is a Japanese man displaying the incredible aptitude for superheroism, to Enji’s surprise and probable chagrin) may have had a knack for using the quirk and therefore was the greatest at winning and saving, but he also destroyed himself trying to be the perfectly westernized superhero.

Also, by comparing the obviously westernized Katsuki Bakugo and pridefully Japanese Enji Todoroki, Horikoshi makes his point that a shithead is a shithead regardless of nationality, background, or philosophy. 

At the same time, both characters have the ability to change.

Speaking as someone from the US, I’m conflicted, humbled, creeped out, and very emotional over the fact that Horikoshi has chosen to have a complicated, sometimes critical (early Bakugo’s westernisms are not flattering, and the westernized persona of All Might is an unsustainable, unrealistic, unfair thing that destroyed the man maintaining it), but overall kind, laudable, and compassionate portrayal of characters that stand in for the west.

I’ve heard Horikoshi has been criticized as a “freeaboo” for the open admiration of the west inherent in My Hero Academia. I’ll admit, I think he might be a little bit of one, but I’d be the cat calling the monkey a long-tailed bastard if I didn’t also admit that I’m a bit of a weeaboo. We can be mutually embarrassed about how much we like each other despite everything, I guess.

But back to Enji and Yagi. Enji bitching about All Might and expressing disgust over his “American” presentation and perceived advantage is, um. Well, I could call it an example of him making excuses because Yagi is actually Japanese, but it is true Yagi gained experiences and some training advantages in the US that Enji did not have. And, like, Yagi also got a magic quirk (from another Japanese person.) That’s something.

But I digress. The irony and realities of Enji’s envy and self-deprecation could be debated all day, but it doesn’t lessen the stink of hostility and western envy wafting off of it.

The Significance of Mountains in Japan

You know about Fuji-san, or Mt. Fuji, the largest and most iconic mountain of Japan? Awesome, because it’s Japan’s most famous cultural site and a great case study for how the Japanese view mountains as sacred. People hike Mt. Fuji and other sacred mountains for secular reasons, too, sure, but many do so as a spiritual pilgrimage. It’s a mixed bag, sort of like how, in the west, everyone is impacted by and understands Christmas despite how it’s primarily only modern Christians that have religious traditions regarding it.

Sekoto Peak, the in-story location where Enji sometimes trains and Toya burns himself, doesn’t actually exist and therefore has no real-life associated myths, but Enji’s choice to train on it indicates much about his discipline. It also provides a quiet association between honing his abilities to their pinnacle and his connecting to the understood sacred power of the mountain. There’s a mystical element to it. 

Most, if not all, Japanese mountains are considered sacred in some sense no matter how tall or pretty they are. This is just understood. Many mountains are the sites of one or more Buddhist or Shinto temples.

Ah, and since many mountains are volcanoes, it shouldn’t be terribly surprising to think of them as residences for fire elementals or other kami and spirit figures. Or even demons.

Enji’s view of All Might as standing on the peak of an even higher mountain, or even perhaps BEING a mountain himself that Enji is unable to climb or conquer, is analogous to him realizing he is one insignificant human man in the face of a force of nature. All Might is not unlike a kami (god - though please remember there is a difference in attitude between those that worship and honor a god versus those that worship capital-G God) to Enji in this sense, but it is perhaps more correct to say that Enji sees All Might as someone who was able to make the pilgrimage to the highest peak and reach enlightenment, thereby becoming divine, while Enji himself is incapable (and therefore unworthy. Because he’s not working hard enough, obviously! Or at least, that’s what Enji thinks.)

If you’re a reader in the Christian-based-background west, you’re likely thinking this is like saying Enji sees himself as a filthy, nasty sinner who is going to hell forever. This isn’t NOT sorta kinda partially in the neighborhood, but that would be a much more punitive, permanent, and fixed view than a Buddhist or east Asian perspective. It’s also missing the point. Readers can want whatever they want, but they shouldn’t necessarily expect this story to absolutely intend to make Enji burn in hell forever through outside forces (because he definitely is doing it to himself, at least currently in this lifetime. Burn, asshole.)

Buddhism’s Four Noble Truths

Rather than a Judeo-Christian sensibility, Enji’s story (and Deku’s, and Bakugo’s, and Rei’s, and Shoto’s, and Uraraka’s, and Toga’s, and Shigaraki’s, and…) more closely resembles Buddhist philosophy and the journey of someone coming to understand the four noble truths - and it ties into Enji’s own discovery and understanding of these truths, which is a journey basically every damn character in this series is going through - if not for their own sakes, then for the sake of learning it on behalf of someone else. That link has a detailed writeup, but here’s the brief:

The First Noble Truth (dukkha) - everyone suffers, and suffering is part of the world. Enji knows this one intimately.

The Second Noble Truth (samudaya) - something causes suffering to happen. In Buddhism, most things that cause suffering are related to having desires for material things or status. Enji learns that he and his desires are the major source for his own suffering and for that of his family.

The Third Noble Truth (nirodha) - knowing that suffering can end. Like, in the abstract. This is acknowledging there is a way it can happen even if one doesn’t know what it is yet.

The Fourth Noble Truth (magga) - knowing there is a way to end suffering. This one is about an action plan. Enji’s action plan is to give his family a new home to live in that does not include him. Later, he realizes he must apologize to the public and continue to do the only damn thing he can to contribute meaningfully towards ending their suffering: keep being a pro Hero even if he can’t be a superhero.

Does knowing or doing any of this purify him? Well, sort of, through the fire ‘n flame of the grueling ordeal of fighting All for One notwithstanding whether or not the public and (some of) his kids still hate him afterwards, but nah, not really.

In some ways, this is a nice quality that My Hero Academia has - that characters still want things, are allowed to want things, and their desires are treated as natural. Sometimes heroic, even! The characters’ ensuing suffering is also a natural and realistic consequence, but that’s a-ok - everyone will still plug along and do their best to try and reach a collective enlightenment. A constant state of enlightened perfection is not attainable nor sustainable for the mortal, which is why the concept of enlightenment through an ongoing cycle of rebirth exists rather than in the form of an immediate reward, but that doesn’t mean we should stop in the endeavor of striving for it.

So that’s what Enji Todoroki is: an illustration of how action through atonement is always better than sending someone or pushing someone to send themselves to hell forever, thereby never allowing them the opportunity to escape the wheel of life.

What is Rei Todoroki?

Rei is a daughter of prestige and her family’s last hope to stay relevant. She’s a woman raised in and trapped by the obligations, power, money, and structure of an old society that is doing everything it can to keep from crumbling.

But she’s also complicit in helping to uphold it. Rei is definitely a victim, but she’s also definitely a perpetrator. ‘Cause that’s how it works - people under the thumb of one kind of authority or abuse often perpetuate it and continue the cycle.

Rei’s given name means, as written, cold. It’s simple, but fitting. She is often emotionally unavailable and unable to connect with Enji and her children (especially Toya, but that’s a two-way street.). It’s one of the contributing factors to why she didn’t “see” her son.

Yuki-Onna and Yamato Nadeshiko

A yuki-onna, or snow woman, is a figure from folklore. They are described as beautiful women who appear on cold and snowy nights. The Wikipedia page I linked gives a good picture of the wide variety of yuki-onna stories out there and of the nature of this figure for your reference. But Rei, while a more human character, definitely suggests a yuki-onna. I think the stories that associate the yuki-onna with children, specifically the one where she asks strangers to hold a child (and survive holding it, in which case she generously awards the holder) or associate her with mountains, are the most interesting for this discussion considering the other mythological and cultural associations present in the Todoroki family.

Rei is also a sort of yamato nadeshiko figure, or an idealized Japanese woman. TVtropes did my work for me on this one:

“Being a yamato nadeshiko revolved around the Confucian concepts of Feudal Loyalty and Filial Piety, which…meant acting for the benefit of one's family and obeying and assisting authority figures…Virtues include(d) loyalty, domestic ability, wisdom, maturity, and humility.”

A nadeshiko is, in English, a dianthus. I know it by the colloquial name Sweet William.

The white-edged flowers kinda looks like Fuyumi’s hair, no?

However, Rei is a yamato nadeshiko with a twist! Rei’s character starts out as a doormat, totally broke and unable to handle life in the Todoroki house, and then later finds the resolve and underlying “iron will” to face Enji, the family, and her mistakes again. Women aren’t naturally “perfect” in any sense of the word, ever, and they definitely don’t naturally (or even unnaturally, even through dogged effort) fit the mold of the yamato nadeshiko (at least, not every waking second of their lives.) But they can grow stronger over time, just like everyone else can. Rei becomes more like a “true” yamato nadeshiko after she stops trying so hard to be one for the sake of upholding her marriage and socially-acceptable appearances and instead approaches the situation from a place of collected, experienced resolve.

Yamato, as all these sources’ll tell ya, is an old term for Japan. “Yamato” is the name of the clan that set up the first (and only) Japanese dynasty as well as the name for the actual seat of government they created (and yeah, the Yamato seat was located on a mountain.)  Today, “Yamato” is also the ethnic majority of modern Japan. Wikipedia has the most succinct brief on how Japan, despite its efforts to brand itself as one homogenized and harmonious Yamato people, definitely ain’t one. 

Likewise, the yamato nadeshiko was a propaganda tool to encourage women to behave “correctly” and paint the picture of a desirable Japanese woman. The unreasonable expectation of women to reach the standard of the idealized yamato nadeshiko was, and is, total bullshit.

Miai and Traditional Marriages

It’s old-fashioned, but not scandalous or inherently skeezy that Enji and Rei had an arranged marriage. Miai, or matchmaking meetings, are still a thing today in the real world and would likely continue to be a thing in the analogous-to-the-real-world’s-present future setting MHA presents, especially for someone like pro Hero Enji. He didn’t have the time or interest to date around, and he needed a marriage of business and mutual interest rather than love (and I don’t just mean “marriage of business” for the purpose of producing designer kids, though that is absolutely what he did and everyone involved even knew it.) Rei’s family are also exactly the kind of family that would desire miai to arrange the most mutually beneficial marriage possible - regardless of Enji’s involvement.

In the grand scheme of history, marriages for love being the accepted norm is exceptionally modern, and while love marriages are increasingly common in many places including Japan, they certainly are not “traditional”. Here’s a blog about Japanese marriages written in 2002 that may contain some interesting tidbits bridging the new and old traditions. Here’s a brief history of marriage in Japan.

Also, Enji and Rei were married young. Overall, the Japanese, especially women, are expected to marry young, though the mean age for women at their time of marriage has increased as time has passed. There still exists, especially for Japanese women, an expectation to marry younger, or at least marry while “in their prime”. If you watch anime, you likely already know what a “Christmas cake” is in modern slang. (That article does a fantastic job of illustrating western envy and postwar Japanese cultural shifts using the adoption of the Christmas cake as a case study.) If you don’t know, a Christmas cake is a slang term for an unmarried woman over 25. Because apparently, a day over 25 means she is past her prime for marriage and has  “expired”.

Marriage fulfills certain social obligations even among middle- and lower-class Japanese citizens, but while Rei would not be alone in feeling the pressure to get married for the sake of her family, she would feel it the most acutely because of her status.

Appearances and Divorce in Japanese Society

Rei could divorce Enji, it’s true, if she had his agreement to do so or if she had sufficient evidence to prove it in a Japanese court. Which, good luck. Because while we know Enji was brutal and abusive in training, which parent actually burned Shoto and left a lasting scar? That’s right. Rei did.

So Rei’s divorce likely would have totally fucked her and the children over. For one, she’d be stripped of the Todoroki family name and likely any Todoroki assets, and since she’d be breaking the deal made between Enji and her family, her own family likely would not take her back! 

Divorces are becoming more common in modern Japan, but it’s important to remember that the stinging double-standard of “divorce is okay, except if it’s ONE OF US” that the upper classes (or just the exceptionally proud or wealthy) impose on themselves is brutal. If the public knew Rei had divorced and were given no context - which they wouldn’t get because shaming one’s (ex-)husband and family by sharing those details publicly would be considered crass and unthinkable - the public would likely rip her and the children apart even if they ripped Enji apart, too. 

Remember: keeping up appearances is everything in Japanese society.

Rei living outside the house in a facility for her mental health is already shameful and potentially scandalous enough, and it wouldn’t do her any favors in court regarding custody of the children, anyway. Instead, she chooses the limbo of remaining married, but separated.

The Rindo Flower

Yes, I have read meta about Rei’s favorite flower being a rindo flower. I’ve seen it in this post from @foundouthatdabiistouyatodoroki and on Reddit, as well as just, like, around the fandom. I agree that the flower’s presence is often a stand-in for Toya, but I also think it stands in for the ghost of Enji’s, well, not exactly love, but his affection and promise to Rei made via their marriage.

Remembering that Rei likes a flower and showing that he remembers is kind of, like, the bare minimum, but it’s somethin’, I guess.

The rindo, most likely the Japanese gentian in English, is, well, a gentian.

 The flower’s color suggests the indigo of the aizome dye, a traditional Japanese color, and its meanings include compassion for sorrow, justice, and… victory. When held upside down like Rei presents it during the hospital scene, it implies loss. (The gladiolus, which the article mentions as another flower of victory, is named because the leaves and shape so resemble a sword. Well, to the Romans, the word for “sword”, and was also a euphemism for a dick. Gladiators, or “sword-ers”, were talked about in terms of their masculinity, victories, and how many other things they penetrated with their “swords”. Real classy. Source? All my history classes.)

Considering Rei’s status as a sort of “blue blood”, I think it’s interesting to note that gentians are the flowers that appear on the Minamoto crest (though the crest most likely uses the less-specific-than-the-rindo balloon flower from the same genus.) I don’t know if associating Rei (and her kids) directly with one of Japan’s major noble clans (and the same one that the Tale of Genji centers around) was Horikoshi’s primary intention, but I think the connection is still worth talking about.

As that Wikipedia article can tell you, the Minamoto name was once given to imperial family members who could not inherit the throne through the family line. It’s fitting for Toya, considering how his father decided he couldn’t be a Hero that surpasses All Might despite being the firstborn son who was created for that explicit purpose.

Let’s talk about that, actually.

What is Toya Todoroki | Dabi?

What is Toya? He’s the first son of a wealthy family with noble blood in him who was utterly crushed by the thought of failing to uphold the social obligations into which he was born.

Personally, I consider Toya to be the most fragile major character in the entire series, contested for the spot only by his own father, Shigaraki, and possibly early series Bakugo. 

Toya, or more precisely Dabi, is Enji (and Rei) Todoroki’s very own monster. Instead of a “perfect creation” like intended, he became, well, whatever you want to call Dabi. 

But let’s talk about Toya first.

The Role of Firstborn Sons in Japan

Firstborn sons are fucking important in Japan and in many other eastern cultures. Generally, they are obligated to inherit just about damn near everything and, in return, are tasked with basically all the responsibilities of honoring their parents. A Japanese family isn’t just a series of blood ties, but an institution. This system, called ie, has its own legal rules. Under the ie system, the firstborn son and his wife (who is likely doing most of the caretaking) live with the parents to continue the household. The other kids are expected to marry out or go start their own families.

Of course, not every single family follows these rules, but the social norms and pressures to uphold them exist. This academic paper written in 2007 analyzes why certain children in the birth order may live with (or near) their parents and explores several factors that impact this decision within families (usually related to whether or not the parents are providing childcare for the grandchildren.) Here’s a fun quote from page 3:

“...the first-born child generally lives with or closer to his/her parents than the second-born child, a result which is consistent with both our theoretical model and Japanese social norms. Second, there is one exception. If a first-born child is a female and she has at least one younger brother, then she locates farther away from her parents than her younger brother even though she is a first-born child.”

More on that “second” part in regards to Fuyumi later.

But, like with most cultures, the more traditional (and established and wealthy) a family is, the heavier the predetermined responsibilities of each household member weighs on them. And Enji Todoroki’s family is high-profile. So, you can imagine that the pressure placed on Toya is immense.

The pressure placed on firstborn son Tensei Iida was immense, too, but their family dynamic was totally different. The Iida family was, like, healthy and functional. Wild.

Moving on. So Toya was not only youthfully excited to impress his father and support his family as the firstborn son, but he was also, in a certain sense, socially conditioned to want to do so. 

To me, this is where things get interesting. Toya’s struggle is not against his parents for crushing his dreams of a life beyond what they and their society’s established roles provide him. Instead, it is the opposite. Toya’s parents are ready to shake up the established family formula and free Toya from many of the obligations of firstborn son duties. Toya is not ready for any of that newfangled modern sensibilities nonsense. According to tradition, Toya’s role and life should be set and secure.

When Rei asks Toya if he even wants to be a Hero, she inadvertently makes him grapple with the possibility that carrying on the family business (or at least carrying on the to-be tradition of becoming the Flame Hero and surpassing All Might per his father’s wishes) is not a given. Other choices exist. Rei’s question, while well-meaning, creates a fissure in Toya’s faith in the patriarchal system from which he developed his entire identity.

If Toya, the first son, can’t use his flames, isn’t a Hero, doesn’t inherit, and won’t continue to live with the family, who is he? If he doesn’t fulfill that role and those obligations, is he worth anything to anyone, even himself?

Conventional wisdom says no. He would be a disgrace and a failure even without Enji’s dumbass “create a genetically ideal child to use the ultimate flame quirk to surpass All Might” scheme in the mix. For Toya, it was never about surpassing All Might, not really. It was about fulfilling his household role and showing his father that he was worthy of being in the family.

When Shoto was born, Toya saw that door slam shut. After that, his inability to embrace another way of life leads to his undoing. But he is also, you know. 13.

Toya, through no fault of his own, cannot handle his father’s flames - not his flames of sheer power, not of mindless effort, not of personal fear, not of burning western envy, not of national pride, not of anything. But Enji burdened Toya with them anyway.

Arrows, Hamaya, and All Might

The characters in Toya’s given name mean “lamp (or, like, a light)” and “arrow”. @skyflyinginaction and their mutuals have an early discussion about his name and its possible meanings as well as a discussion about symbolism here that’s fun to read, and I’m always happy to not have to do any more work - er, happy to give credit where it is due for research and thoughts. But I do have more to add.

Arrows and archery have particular connotations in Japan. The ones I most commonly think about are hamaya, or evil-warding arrows, used ceremonially. Hamaya can be purchased at temples to be displayed in the home as luck-bringing or evil-warding items. Of course, the bow is also a significant evil-warding symbol, and the bow and arrow are often meant to appear together as a set of evil-warding objects, but yanno. Whatever works.

Anyway, around the New Year, archery contests and traditions abound as a way to predict the coming year’s fortune or ward off evil. This blog entry details one day of tradition in Ibaraki as well as the associations with masculinity and, erm, promoting fertility.

There’s one more tradition I learned orally, so I can’t source it, though the purpose for it was different than the one I just linked. In the one I was told, the head priest opens the yabusame (horseback archery) ceremony by firing an arrow through the temple gates and off the side of the mountain to slay an invisible demon. The firing coincides with the sun’s placement and becomes, much like Toya’s name suggests, an arrow of light.

In any case, arrows are associated with luck, sons, and warding off evil. I get the sense that the “arrow” in Toya’s name brings all of these cultural associations into play. More specifically, I get the sense that Toya was meant to be the “arrow of leading light” meant to slay the “evil” of the west, All Might, and purify that uppermost and unreachable peak where All Might stands in Enji’s mind. Don’t quote that, though.

‘Course, the “guiding light” or “purifying light” implied by Toya’s name eventually becomes perverted from its original purpose.

Toya’s Cremation

According to the manchild himself, Toya died not when he burned the shit out of himself on Sekoto Peak, but when he thought his family had replaced him. That’s when he says Dabi was born.

The word Dabi means cremation. Heh. The enthusiastic @foundoutthatdabiistouyatodoroki posted about why and how it may be written as something indirect instead of something more direct for the sake of Japanese sensibilities.

I’d also like to point out that Toya’s body was not properly, ritually buried or cremated in any sense or tradition. This is important, since the failure to do so often prevents the spirit from passing on to the afterlife!

Arguably, Toya cremated himself, but not all the way and not in the way that aligns with the intentions and purpose of a kotsuage, or funerary cremation ritual. Also, his family did not pick out his bones - the authorities did when they found a piece of his jaw. That linked article talks more about the significance of the tradition, but put simply: the family didn’t properly mourn Toya, and in doing so, they did not free themselves emotionally of his specter. They also didn’t free Toya from his attachments to them.

This life-to-death stuff is a two-way street, and Toya’s soul was left hanging onto a burned, rotting corpse by the thread of his own grudge. He’s a modern horror story.

Dabi’s Horror Inspirations

That’s right, Dabi fans! It’s time to talk about the well-known Frankenstein allusions present in the character - though I’m pretty sure Horikoshi pulled from the 1931 film and not the book. Whatever. 

As Toya, Enji’s creation was an ice quirk + a fire quirk instead of a (cold) corpse + a reintroduced (hot) spark of life (and later, half of his “father” Victor Frankenstein’s own brain) like Frankenstein’s monster. Frankenstein’s monster’s weakness, at least in the movie, is fire. In the book, fire is still present and double-edged. 

As Dabi, Enji’s creation is a reanimated corpse (wow!) + a twisted sense of self created from Enji’s own will (wow!) who seeks revenge on his creator and family for his loneliness and creation. His weakness is, uh, yeah, it’s still fire.

While Enji is not the one who recreated and revived Toya as Dabi, it is Toya’s grudge (and desire to see and be seen by his father) that keeps him alive. In fact, Dabi is a really cool twist on a yurei or perhaps an ikiryo since he is technically still alive. Still, Dabi most closely seems to follow the patterns of an onryo, which is a more specific form of yurei. These spirits, and the story of one in particular, are the inspiration behind the Japanese Ju-on: The Grudge movies (and then their US-made counterpart.) Here’s a bit from the onryo entry from yokai.com not ‘cause it’s the most academic, but the most succinct:

“Their motive is always the same—vengeance. Onryō are easily powerful enough to kill anyone. However, they prefer letting the object of their hatred live a long life of torment and suffering, watching loved ones die in their stead. Onryō inflict a terrible curse on the people or places that they haunt. This curse can be transmitted to others like a contagious disease, creating a circle of death and destruction far more devastating than any ordinary ghost.”

You may decide that the entry for the gyoro or another yurei suits Dabi better, but surely you see the point that he’s playing the role of some kind of ghost. His eerie blue flame suggests onibi, or resentful spirits taking the form of blue flame. Wikipedia also does me a big favor by mentioning the overlap between onibi and European will o’ wisps, which usually lead people astray towards goals they can’t reach!

It really would have been better for everyone if Toya hadn’t pursued the incredibly hot blue flame, huh? Instead, he just burned out fast. Kinda dissappointing and anticlimactic - like a dragon’s head on a snake’s body.

Yeah, that’s right - Dabi seems to have renamed himself “dissappointment”. Heh. Tweens and teens really are the funniest people on the planet.

The First Son Passed Over for a Second Time

But perhaps the funniest and most horrible detail of the whole manga is the implication that All for One and the doctor took one look at Dabi’s shambling corpse escaping from the nursery and went, “Yeah, let that one go. He’s a little too pathetic to be the next vessel or organ for infinite hatred to fuel our big schemes.” Like, absolutely nobody (except the very family he thought replaced him, and boy, are they a shitshow), not even the villains that seek out pathetic people in order to use them, wanted Dabi.

Dabi is, in many ways, Doctor Garaki’s “First Son” vessel experiment for All for One, and he was passed over in favor of Shigaraki in much the way Toya’s father passed him over for Shoto due to how unsuitable a vessel he is.

When Dabi faces Geten, the ice-quirk user whom ReDestro treats almost like his own successor, who believes that a powerful quirk (and strong sense of individuality with a need to express it) is the only thing that makes someone worthy of living, who exists as his weird mirror with a more weaponized and powerful form of Rei’s ice quirk, I wonder if he thought god was laughing at him. I know his face and skin began splitting apart as if to show his true identity (a dead kid upset at his family) and show a waver in his resolve to stay alive to accomplish his goal, but I’d love to know if he has any ideology outside of his grudge towards his father and family.

If Hawks told Dabi to his stapled face his real reasons for helping Endeavor, what would Dabi say? Heh heh heh. Dabi learned not to trust Rei, Fuyumi, or his own brother Natsuo, so I’m not terribly surprised he never trusted Keigo in the first place.

Keigo, who never thought to watch Dabi. Keigo, who had to ask who Dabi is. Keigo, who also didn’t see him.

Keigo, who wants to take Toya’s place.

But let’s talk about Toya’s other siblings... in part 2!

[the-lark-ascending69]

Near-future, black mirror esque AU in which Nancy, stressed college student with loads of childhood trauma, gets recommended by her psychologist to get an emotional support robot. That's what they're called, yes. They're sold to very lonely people to pretty much look after them emotionally. Nancy has always hated the idea, and doesn't really like androids or robots of any kind. Plus, she thinks it's quite sad that she's so lonely she needs an android to keep her company. She also couldn't possibly afford it.

Her friend Steve, though, who hasn't seen her in a year despite living 15 minutes away (she has a tendency to isolate herself and use her studies as an excuse), got her one. It's a second-hand unit, a slightly older model that's seen several repair shops in the past, but it works, and it was half the price of a new one. He shows up to her apartment with the box, looking smug and proud of himself. If anything, Nancy feels insulted.

She doesn't touch the box for a few weeks, and doesn't get rid of it either, because her studies take her so much time, she can't bring herself to keep her apartment clean. When her mother visits and sees the mess she's living in, with a perfectly functional android willing to help her, she finally caves, and as soon as she's alone, she decides to see if this thing can at least help her clean up.

It surprises her that it looks so... human. Its skin is soft and warm, with all the natural imperfections of a human's skin. Same as her hair. She's dressed in old worn-out clothes, and she curls into herself, in fetal position, inside the box. Only the button under her skin on the back of her neck reveals her as an android. Nancy reads the instructions, presses there for 10 seconds, and waits.

Or she planned to wait - eight seconds in with Nancy's fingers pressed on that spot, and the android's eyes flew open. She cried out, screambled out of the box and looked around, breathing heavily and hugging herself. Her eyes fix on Nancy, look her up and down with a frown, and asks:

"Who are you?"

Nancy opens her mouth to reply, then looks down at the instructions, hoping they'd say something about this kind of scenario, and that her new robot didn't go rogue and try to kill her.

"Wait, are those my instructions?" The robot asked. She looked down. "I really don't mean to complain about my living situation going from extremely fucked to simply fucked, but that is not my original box. Mine was smaller, and it had a bunch of little dots on the side. Did they sell me again?"

The instructions said nothing about this possibility, so Nancy decided it was time to improvise.

"I... my friend got you at a garage sale, I think."

"Oh. Well, that is low, even for me," the robot said. She rubbed the back of her neck. "Should my neck hurt this much?"

Nancy blinked.

"Shouldn't you know that?"

"Honestly, I don't even know what levels of pain are normal for me. It always hurts just a little bit somewhere, like, right now, my whole spine really hurts." She laughs. "At least I think it's supposed to feel like pain? I don't think we're wired to feel pain, exactly, I mean, that would be just sadistic. Talk anti-natalism to me. But I swear this spot right here just feels really really bad. Or maybe it's anthropocentric to... perceive it as pain, don't you think? It's very existentialist, actually, the whole... perceiving thing - I bet Berkeley wrote something about it, at some point, but I haven't read him in ages."

"You read books?"

"What? Oh. Oh, uh... I - I think I'm offline? Like, I don't have access to the database, so I kinda have to do it the old-fashioned way if I want to learn somethin," she said. "It's cool, though! I like reading a lot."

"...Okay. So, um... here it says your model is..."

"Robin," the android said. Nancy looked up.

"I'm sorry?"

"That's my name," she said. "I came up with it, I - I thought it sounded nice. Do you like it?"

Nancy stared at this... thing, a million thoughs coursing through her head. The first one was a newfound understanding of her low price.

She made a movement with her head that could be understood as both a shake and a nod at the same time.

"Yeah, yeah, sure" she said, brows knit together. What the hell did Steve get her into? "It's... nice."

"Oh, thank God, because Mom and Dad hated it."

"Mom and...?"

"My first owners - Richard and Melissa, I always called them Mom and Dad. They... they, uh, they hated that, too."

Jesus Christ.

"So... Robin," Nancy said. "I was wondering if you could help me put away some of my things while I study."

"Oh! Yeah, yeah, yeah, sure." She stood there, eyes wandering, around, until they fell on Nancy's bookshelf "Holy shit, you have Dostoyevski! Is it in Russian?"

Nancy blinked, opened her mouth, took a step back and shook her head. Robin was already striding towards her bookself, tracing the spines of books with her fingers.

"Actually, why don't you read after you clean this up?"

Robin turned to see her, eyes wide and a growing smile, like a kid in a candy shop.

"I - I can read all of this?"

Nancy was going to kill Steve.

She shrugged and shook her head.

"Sure," she said. "After you clean this mess."

"Aye aye, cap!" Robin chirped, making a quick salute with her hand and getting to work.

Nancy was, for certain, going to murder Steve for making her responsible for this... thing. There was something wrong in her system, and that was very much obvious. She looked down at the instructions manual - surely there would be a way to turn her off for the night. She wouldn't want Robin to murder her in her sleep, or worse - wake her up at 4 am to talk about books.

Or she could just tell her to shut up. She was a robot, anyway. It's not like she could feel anything.

[definegodliness]

Yesterday's haul:

A meat grinder lamp. How cool is that?! It's a birthday gift for my sister. Tricky, because it's design, but they've got some industrial elements in their home and I think cast iron would surely fit there. Hope she'll tell me if she hates it, because I love it :p - what a thing.

A fifties Bavarian porcelain vase. That's a birthday gift for my mom (already checked and she loves it). The thing just caught my eye, it's just the right amount of artsy, without being too flashy. No idea how to call this art style, but I know mom loves stuff like this.

The stone circular object with two intertwined human figures at its centre is mine. Love its (apparent) message of connectedness. The colour of the stone, the weight, the artist's hand; everything about it!

And two additions to the zoo:

An iron ram. That's a birthday gift to me, as I am an Aries I reckoned a ram should have a place here (by the way, yes, us three have birthdays within three weeks, because my mom miscalculated 9 months... twice x'D). Love the robustness of it, and the fact that it's Iron; its weight and the coldness of it. Fantastic.

The last is a Fu dog. I'm usually not into them, design wise — the more stylised, the more kitsch — but this one had a goofy charm in its gnarliness. A face like a hog, or some kind of hognosed bat, anyway, one which only a mother could love. And me, obviously. Same as all its little imperfections. Not sure what it's made from, but it's heavy and solid, cold.

I'm very pleased.

[tyrantisterror]

While we’re on the subject of Dungeons & monsters, what are your top ten favorite D&D monsters & why?

I'm going to limit this to monsters that are either original creations of D&D or so divorced from their mythological roots that they might as well be original creations, or else this would just be me listing dragons. This is also in no particular order.

I'm gonna start with the Otyugh, because I think it's a result of D&D creating a very interesting ecosystem to justify its mechanics. You have all these artificial dungeons filled with different man-eating monsters, right? Well, what about the waste products they create? Carrion, yes, but also, you know... poop.

Well, you get Otyughs, a species that, depending on the setting, was either artificially engineered to take care of the waste products of a dungeon, or naturally evolved to clear out the waste of enormous megafauna predators like dragons. Is it mostly just an excuse to introduce yet another weird monster with a unique attack mechanic (say hello to sepsis and other infections, players)? Yeah, but it's a good excuse, it gets the imagination flowing.

I've actually played a lot more Pathfinder than D&D proper, and Pathfinder went out of its way to give Otyughs love by exploring all the aspects of their ecology that were only lightly outlined or implied in D&D, including the fact that they're technically intelligent enough to be capable of speech and reason - and thus, not necessarily a monster you have to deal with using violence alone. It really endeared me to them, to the point where Otyugh characters became something of a trademark of mine when running Pathfinder/D&D campaigns - and to the point where I ended up making up an expy of them for my own fantasy setting.

Bulettes are one of the coolest looking D&D monsters for my money, especially given that their modern designs take two inspiration from two very different animals - sharks and tortoises - and manage to combine them so beautifully to create something at once very cool and yet perfectly plausible as a "real" creature.

I love Rust Monsters for the same reason I love Otyughs - it's a monster that was made to showcase a game mechanic (namely, destroying players' weapons and armor, making sure they know how valuable those things are) and ends up creating a weird but plausible and interesting aspect of the ecology and world-building as a result. Also like Otyughs, they're very cute in a groady monster way.

Not every monster needs to have a big mind-blowing concept for me to be happy, though. Sometimes a creepy guy with a squid for a head who eats brains is enough. Mind Flayers are iconic and often imitated despite/because of being such a simple and easy to grasp concept.

Speaking of iconic monsters, Beholders feel like such an obvious cool concept that is shocking to me that they're more or less an original D&D creation - and it kind of sucks that they are, because a giant monster head with one main eye and several smaller eyes on stalks feels like it should be as ubiquitous in fiction as dragons and unicorns, and yet it can't be without paying Wizards of the Coast a shit-ton of royalties.

I will say that the lore D&D gave Beholders is pretty good, though - namely that each Beholder thinks it is the apex of their kind, and hates all other beholders for their perceived imperfections. Because beauty is in the eye of the beholder, you see. It's great, no notes, but beholders should belong to the people, not copyright holders.

I'm pretty sure Mimics originate from D&D, though I guess they just couldn't keep the idea of "a treasure chest that fucking eats you" from the people, since they appear in a lot of non-licensed stuff. As they should - man-eating treasure chests are another monster concept that should belong to the people.

I was talking about Froghemoths the other day on here but I want to reiterate that I love them despite/because of the fact that there really is no greater concept at play here than "what if there was a big fucking frog freak," and not once in the long history of this game has anyone decided there needed to be more at play than that. A big fucking frog freak is enough for all of us.

I just think this one looks neat.

D&D kobolds are in the category of "so far removed from its mythic roots that it's basically a new monster," and in that case the new monster is "scrabbly little dragon people with extreme anxiety," and I love that. Kobolds are my favorite humanoid species in D&D, and I'm glad 5th edition finally gave them a stat block that's actually playable, as opposed to previous edition's attempts, which made the prospect of being a kobold character the equivalent of having a public humiliation kink.

Finally, and also in the category of "technically named after a mythic monster it no longer resembles in almost any way," we have the Tarrasque, which went from a turtle/lion hybrid dragon in myth to a nigh-indestructible monster that's explicitly compared to natural disasters for its immense size, vast destructive power, and near inability to be harmed thanks to its armored hide and insane healing abilities. Or, in short, D&D lawyer friendly equivalent of Godzilla. How can I not love D&D Godzilla?

[kybercrystals94]

Scars and Toothpicks

By KyberCrystals94

Read here on Ao3!

Whumptober 2023 | Day 27 | Prompt 27: Scars

Rating: G

Words: 755

Summary: Omega worries about losing her brothers again.

[Author’s Note: Let’s just pretend for a minute that Tech survived the fall (which I am 100% on board that train, don’t get me wrong), and that Crosshair, Omega, and Tech have all been rescued…this story takes place after that. Okay? Great! Read on…]

Omega has a tiny scar on the outer edge of her left wrist. It is thin, slightly raised, and a touch lighter than the warm color of her skin. She doesn’t remember how she got it, or even when; but for as long as she can remember, she’s found herself rubbing it when she’s anxious, running her right index finger over it, back and forth.

She does it now, the imperfection soothing under her fingertip. “Do you think they’re alright?” she asks.

Crosshair sighs. “Why did you stay with me if you’re not going to be quiet?”

“I asked quietly,” Omega argues, pressing harder on the scar, making it feel more pronounced.

“They’re fine. Shush.”

Omega glares at her brother’s profile, sharp edged features that perfectly match his personality. She lets out a breath, louder than necessary, just to annoy him. By the glance he casts her, it works. She grins at her boots, but the gnawing anxiety in her stomach doesn’t go away, even with Crosshair’s reluctant reassurance.

She and Crosshair are on lookout while the rest of the batch works on the inside, searching for intel. It is a low-risk mission, Rex said; however, it's only been a few months since she, Crosshair and Tech were rescued from Hemlock. The internal and external wounds of their captivity still feel raw and exposed.

She can’t lose her brothers again.

She bites the inside of her cheek and keeps rubbing her scar.

Crosshair looks at her. “What?” he asks, a hiss.

“I didn’t say anything,” Omega protests indignantly.

“You keep messing with your wrist. What? Are you injured?” The question gives the impression of concern, even if the tone is discolored with ire.

Omega drops her hands. She hadn’t really realized she was doing it. “No,” she says, a grumble. “Just a nervous habit.”

Crosshair regards her for a moment more before turning back to the landscape. “I noticed.”

“Then why’d you ask?”

“In case you wanted to talk about it.”

“You said to be quiet.”

“Changed my mind.”

Even after spending weeks together in confinement, Omega still isn’t used to Crosshair’s bladed way of showing concern for his siblings, serrated but deep. It is so different from the rest of her brothers but comforting in its own way.

Omega shrugs, leaning back. “Just paranoid, I guess. I know nothing’s going to happen, but...something might.”

Crosshair reaches into his pocket and pulls out two toothpicks, flicking one at her. Omega catches it, barely, but she can’t help the triumphant grin. Crosshair smirks at her. “Don’t be so proud of yourself,” he mutters, putting his between his teeth.

Omega follows his example, grinding the toothpick between her teeth experimentally. “It tastes gross.”

“Is there a flavor of wood you prefer?” Crosshair snarks, and Omega wrinkles her nose at him. He chuckles and settles back beside her, eyes returning to their watch. “You know, something bad can happen anywhere...even that precious little bed of yours back on Pabu. You could fall out of it and break your neck. Are you going to be paranoid about that too?”

Omega rolls her eyes. “That’s different.”

“Is it?”

“Yes!”

“Hmm. I disagree.”

“You would,” Omega mutters.

“Ah, you know me so well,” Crosshair retorts. He elbows her. Not gently, but not hard enough to hurt. “My point is, kid, stop worrying about what could happen. It’s annoying, and it’s unhelpful. I should know.”

“Really?” Omega asks, looking up at him.

Crosshair pokes the scar on her wrist. “That’s your nervous habit, and this,” he takes out his toothpick, holding it out, “is mine.”

“Wrecker said you chew on toothpicks because you think it looks cool,” Omega says with a grin.

“Wrecker says a lot of ridiculous things.” Crosshair puts the toothpick back in his mouth.

“Are you nervous right now?” Omega asks.

“No,” Crosshair deadpans.

“But you just said...”

“I just said that worrying about what could happen is annoying and unhelpful,” Crosshair interrupts. “So, what are we going to do instead?”

Omega can’t decide if it is a trick question or rhetorical.

Crosshair rolls his eyes and says in a painfully slow voice, “We focus on the job we were given.”

“That’s it?” Omega asks.

“That’s it. Now, be quiet, or next time I’m going to make you go with Hunter, so you don’t bother me.”

Omega leans into him, resting her head against his shoulder. “You love me,” she singsongs.

“Don’t push it, kid,” Crosshair growls, but she feels his head rest on hers and smiles.

END

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[cutiedwaekki]

soft spot

summary : chan has a soft spot for his loved one

Contain : feeding kink , praising , mention of weight gain , mention of insecurities

Chan x chubby gn!reader

Honestly my first x reader fic about this kink I feel like I'm cringe, as cringe as the your eyes mv but I like the risk haha

Btw thanks to @bbywoojinnie to gave me this idea

Anyway if you got any ideas of headcanon or reactions don't hesitate to send it :)

Enjoy ♡

☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ

• Chan was a chubby chaser.

• You didn't need Chan to tell you, you guessed it.

• It wasn't difficult, the way his hands were always on your belly or your hips.

• The way he always kept you well fed, as if it were never enough.

• And then feigning innocence when you mentioned gaining weight-Maybe he was pretending not to see that you already knew, he'd be so ashamed!

• He knew that your body had been your torment during your high school years, but knowing that you'd turned it into a strength and accepted your body now could only make him proud of you. It's only natural that he'd want to congratulate you in his own way, right?

• When they get together, Chan enjoys celebrating their partner's beauty in all its forms. After a delicious meal where they've feasted, Chan likes to pamper their partner with a gentle, soothing massage on their full bellies.

• he know that the belly can be an area of vulnerability for some people, but for them, it's a place that deserves love and attention.

• No excuses was enough to justify this constant need to keep his hands on your body

• Next, Chan takes the time to discover every detail of his partner's body, especially their stretch marks. Rather than seeing them as imperfections, Chan sees them as unique marks that tell the story of their self-love and personal growth. And to seal their affection, Chan leaves soft hickeys on their partner's waist, a gesture that symbolizes the shared intimacy and passion between them.

• It's a way for Chan to mark their love and desire for their partner, enveloping them in a cocoon of security and affection at every moment.

• "You wanna know the craziest thing ?" you turned your gaze to him, curious although quite sleepy from all the food you ate earlier. “All this is mine” he said squeezing your stomach before covering it with kisses

• if your belly had the right to sweet innocent kisses , your waist had the right to have beautiful hickey marks all around, a way for chan to claim you before counting your stretch marks, smiling like a kid when he saw a new one. he found that their pink color suited you so well and became sad when they lost their color. At least it was a sign that he fed you well, that he filled you with love and food

• “When will you stop making me fat?” you said giggling, amazed at the attention Chan devoted to your body. “When you stop driving me crazy” he said before getting up and kissing you tenderly

• So yes , your body was his soft spot

[jokeringcutio]

helloo, hope this return means things are looking up <3

reader on a blind date with arthur fleck imagine ? it could happen by gary speaking to arthur during work and they'd get onto the topic of women and gary would suggest arthur going out with a female friend (reader) of his who is currently looking for someone. the reader then gets a bit concerned for arthur (his weight, illness, how little money he has and age gap between the two) and starts to stick around him to make sure he's alright. could end with smut or fluff, whichever you prefer. sorry if this is asking for a lot, you could take your time or ignore it if you think its too much! no pressure

Nothing's too much! ♥ Here's a little imagine I just wrote for you. Enjoy:

(Story under cut)

Reader's Gary's friend and Arthur's Blind Date Imagine

Fandom: Joker (2019)

Reader x Arthur Fleck

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Mention of age difference, medicine, health issues, worries, smut.

When Gary comes to him to tell him he knows this sweet girl, Arthur thinks his colleague is just teasing him. Why would anyone try and set him up with a date? No one had cared about him being lonely before, least of all his day-to-day colleagues. But Gary was different, it seemed. He was the only one at work who didn’t seem eager to joke about all of Arthur’s shortcomings. So when he told Arthur that he had a friend and that the two of you should definitely meet, he accepted.

The little café where you are to meet is small and cheap. But it has a pleasant décor and atmosphere. Arthur’s leg jitters nervously, and then you come inside. At first, he thinks you made a mistake, and he says so.

“Excuse me, miss, but this seat is taken.”

“I know,” you say, looking intently at the man you knew had to be your blind date. He looks cute, your type, you realize. Where had Gary been hiding this man all this time, you wondered? You try to sit down but Arthur stops you again.

“No, I mean, I am waiting for someone.”

“Mind it if I were to be that someone?”

Arthur is left dumbfounded for quite a few minutes, merely capable of blabbering apologizes as you sit down, and staring at you as if he can’t believe his eyes. “So you are my blind date?” he eventually asks. “Gary-?”

“Yes,” you confirm, taking away all his doubt and fears. “Gary is a good friend of mine.”

Arthur had been scared to hope that you could be there for him. Scared that he would be disappointed to find out that you were here to meet someone else, afraid of getting his hopes up. But the moment you say Gary is a good friend of yours, his fears quiet down and his shoulders sag as his body starts to relax.

His whole demeanor changes. He becomes more confident, all smiles. He talks like a proper man on a date, moves the coaster around the table as he speaks. His leg still jitters somewhat, but it is no longer due to fear. It is excitement.

His attention is fully upon you. His green eyes follow your face all the time. He takes you in, the way you smile, the little crinkles near your eyes, the small lines, the imperfections. It is all perfect to him.

Nightmares come true. Not dreams. So how can you be real then?

It’s near the end of the date when it is time to pay that you ask Arthur if he really had enough. He hardly drank and didn’t eat at all. You figure he is just being polite, but wonder if he enjoyed the time he had spent with you. Had he just been sticking around so as not to offend you? Would there be a second date? You worry, internally, until the bill comes and Arthur insists he shall pay for you.

You see the contents of his wallet. It is nearly empty.

With a gasp, you offer to pay for him, but he refuses no matter what you try, even gets offended for trying to take this away from him. So chivalry isn’t dead yet.

You tell him you admire him.

The date ends with the two of you walking down the promenade. Talking. Arthur smiles sweetly at you. He tells you not to worry about him, and the two of you set up another date.

You know he has been lying to you. That he doesn’t have the money he claims he has or a nice apartment of his own. Gary tells you all about him. A forty-year-something-old man still living with his deranged mom. Gary tells you about the medicines he saw Arthur take and of the card that describes his ailment. Of how he never eats during the job – too busy, he said. He always said that according to Gary. And Gary's worried about him. But also about you. Should you truly continue dating this man, he wonders?

Gary is worried, but you are even more so. Arthur is your dream man. It becomes quite clear to you rather quickly, and as such, you can’t let his situation go. You worry about him. You care about him.

During your second date, Arthur has fully emerged in a tale of his own devising when you suddenly interrupt him by placing a gentle hand on his wrist. He looks shaken, green eyes upon you questioningly.

All you do is whisper he doesn’t need to hide.

“Don’t pretend, sweetheart, I am here for you. The real you.”

A soft breath leaves his lips, stuttering, shaking.

Then he places his warm hand upon yours, hot palm lightly resting against your skin. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze. And then a smile tugs the corner of his lips. Just a tiny one, like a hidden gem.

He shows you his apartment after. You meet his mom and examine his empty fridge. Determination fills your being.

The next time you are invited to come over to his place, you take along some home-cooked meal which you share with Arthur and his mom. He is reluctant to eat, as he isn’t hungry, but under the scrutinizing eyes of his mom, he knows it is the only polite thing to do. And so he tastes it. That night. And the night after. And all the nights that follow when you visit him and bring another home-cooked meal. He can’t refuse them, so he won’t.

Now that you have gotten him to eat, you start helping him do some chores around his house. You help his mother dress, clean the rooms, get rid of some of the mess. You sort through his medicines and get rid of the ones that have passed their dates. You bring in flowers and different drinks for Arthur to taste. His life quickly becomes less bland.

He’s a different man at work. More confident. Less caring about what others think of him.

This lasts for several weeks until one of his colleagues remarks that you are too young for him. Then Arthur breaks down.

You meet Arthur at his house but find him a wreck. Things had been looking up lately, so to find him in a mood is a surprise to you. Even more so when you see how he is chain-smoking, and how he sent his mom to her chamber.

He then tries to send you away.

“They’re right. Why would you stick with an old man like me, anyway? I am no good, can’t do anything good. No money, not a stable mind. Did you come here only out of pity?”

When he says it, he looks up at you with watery green eyes and you can’t help it. Your hands are upon his cheeks within an instant, his lips pressed against yours. You taste the nicotine on his tongue and allow it to sweep through your mouth. He eats you, ravishes you, his lithe body presses firmly against you and you can feel how eager he is for you.

You take the initiative, show him the ropes. He is hot and hard and eager for it. Every taste is a reminder that it isn’t enough, and his lips hungrily seek out yours. You guide him inside but he sets the pace. You moan his name, but he paints you white and claims you as his.

In his arms you shudder with the last of your orgasm. Against his chest, you come down from your high.

And by his teasing nimble fingers, you are teased into another round until your body is clamping down on his cock, hard. He groans in your ear and bestows you with another round of his cum. His heavy sack empties for a second time after having been denied the release so often before. It is like heaven to him, and he can’t get enough.

And you let him. Because you enjoy it.

You love him.

Next time he appears at work and someone comments about you being too young or too pretty for him, he retreats into his mind and feels you there, around his shaft, pulsing. Too young, perhaps. Too pretty, definitely. But you’re willing and you want him.  

No one will be able to take you away from him.

~ FIN ~

AN: Hope you enjoyed it. I'm ready to receive more prompts again as you can see.

[commodorez]

Let's take a moment to remember my imperfect, but ever useful portable XP powerhouse, the Toshiba Satellite P25-S507. Probably my favorite laptop of all time. It's old, but hardly vintage yet. I was given one as a hand-me-down after it grenaded its own RAM a year after it was purchased.

I used it as my music jukebox, played a ton of Command & Conquer games on it, did my high school and college school work, talked with my friends on AIM, Skype Teamspeak and IRC, edited videos, programmed on it, did image editing in photoshop.

Pentium 4 @ 2.8GHz, 512MB DDR SRAM stock (mine was upgraded to 1GB and later 2GB), ~60GB hard drive, 17" WXGA TFT LCD, Windows XP (Home, but we upgraded it to Pro), ethernet jack AND wifi, DVD burner, SD card slot, all coming in at just shy of 10lbs of computer.

I either had it sitting on my desk next to my desktop computer (P4 or Phenom II x4), or used it sitting on my bed with a wooden board under it to give it sufficient ventilation so it wouldn't overheat or burn my legs. I disassembled that laptop several times over its lifetime, and replaced:

keyboards twice

the screen once (for the backlight)

4 hard drives

RAM once to upgrade from 1GB to 2GB

sound card subsystem once

battery twice

DVD drive once

Eventually after it destroyed TWO IDE SSDs (yes, those are a thing you can buy) after a shorter than normal lifespan, I realized it was a losing battle and gave up the fight. I realized that it no longer served as a laptop, it couldn't keep pace with newer versions of Skype (before Discord was a thing), and sure as hell wasn't going to run Discord. It got slower and slower at running simple websites like my email, or youtube -- things that it used to handle just fine.

The form factor was limiting, and it was outmatched for the times, so I finally gave up and decided to retire it in favor of building a dedicated power-house XP desktop to do the jobs that it excelled at.

I bought a spare for parts to supplement it, so maybe one day I'll install a fresh hard drive (either spinning rust, or an IDE to m.2 adapter), and bring it back to a working state.