#sorry i write like an academic

[salix-babi]

Still Yours

[ Dan Heng x Reader | SFW | Masterlist | AO3 ]

Synopsis: Dan Heng reunites with the group at Scalegorge and seeks to sooth a tension that's developed between the two of you.

Notes: Had another version of this I wrote to completion then completely scrapped it because I was dissatisfied with the ending. Perfectionism is a burden I must overcome. Writing this just happens to coincide with the return of IL's banner but I'm lowkey hoping it blesses my pulls. I need him. If he comes home, I'll work on a nsfw part 2 so PLEASE. GIVE ME YOUR BLESSINGS.

cw: SFW, some suggestive themes in the latter half, gn!reader, lil angst, yearning, reader is a tease, established relationship, reader can be perceived as TB, spoilers for Topclouded Towerthrust Trailblaze Mission.

Word Count: ~3.6k

The two of you hadn’t exchanged a word since Dan Heng managed to reconnect with the departed expedition team on the Luofu. Looking far different from how you last remembered him.

Not as he parted the oceans.

Not as you traversed the ruins of Scalegorge.

Not as you fought Phantylia.

Every time his gaze found on you, you were looking elsewhere. Occupied with murals or enemies that stood in your path. In all fairness, there wasn’t much breathing room with the destruction of the Luofu so close at hand, but the absence of your gaze felt… empty. Cavernous in his chest and tight all at once. Like he was still apart from you despite only standing a few feet away at any given time. He didn’t like it.

Dan Heng could count on one hand (one finger, even) the amount of times as you traveled through Scalegorge that the two of you were alone. An opportunity squandered by a hesitance he couldn’t quite place. A spike of anxiety as he caught you idle by a Vidyadhara egg. Your eyes (never once on him) focused beyond its iridescent sheen to the individual cradled within. He should speak. He knows he should. The back part of his brain screams to utter your name, no matter how weak it may sound in absence of your attention. Your care. …But instead, Dan Heng finds his words caught in his throat. His chest still, his limbs frozen, and his eyes transfixed. He watches with bated breath as you press a gentle palm against the egg’s cold outer shell, seeking the Vidyadhara within. You close your eyes, and listen to the echoes of a past life as it slowly sloughs away with the coming and going of the tide. A medley of fortune and tragedy washing over you in waves.

In your focus, your expression remains unreadable to Dan Heng. A detriment made worse from the distance currently held between you, yet he doesn’t dare step closer. A thousand questions run behind closed lips, forced into a neutral line despite the anxiety writhing beneath his skin. Were you sad? Were you melancholic? Do you grieve a life’s end or celebrate its rebirth? Or did you see one’s past and future united in a single entity. Do you see him?

Dan Heng wanted to speak up then. To acknowledge the silent questions that lingered between you two. To quell his own growing anxieties. However, it’s not until you’re pulling away that he seems to find his limbs. Your attention bestowed not upon him, but March calling your name in the distance. You had lingered too long and Mr. Yang was advising against getting separated. It made sense. Dan Heng watches (only watches) as your connection to the egg severs, the flow of memories fading from your mind as you reconvene with the group and once again wander out of his reach. He can only follow silently, his eyes lingering on the egg for a fraction of a moment as he passes.

There was a tension between the two of you, of that he was certain the both of you felt. A chasm that was growing wider the longer you avoided him, and he kept his distance from you. Even March was beginning to look a little antsy. But with so much to do and so little time, a lover’s quarrel was hardly their biggest concern.

His next opportunity arises as the group is rushing out of Scalegorge, Phantylia gone and an unconscious Arbiter General in arm. As others tended to Jing Yuan (greeted in a frenzy by cloud knights and a furious Master Diviner in tow), there you stood at the base of the high elder’s statue, scrutinizing its stone features. There were parts of it that were similar, features passed down through generations upon generations of high elders. The horns of The Permanence themselves. The weapon and the water known to be wielded by Imbibitor Lunae. Even the silken hair that stretches down their back. Traditional.

Dan Heng, in truth, struggled to see the differences himself sometimes. Denied his right in molting rebirth, he remains a carbon copy of the man who incited sedition within the Luofu, traitorous and guilty of unpardonable sin. Many would like to think he is the same man. Capable of the same crimes. Perhaps he would be, if it were you. Though he can’t afford to think that. Many assume regardless. But you…

So caught up in trying to decipher your expression, Dan Heng nearly jumps out of his skin when your gaze turns to him for the first time since you left him on the Express days ago. A small part of him soothes to bask in your attention once more, but the larger part of him claws with anxiety, a turning unease in his stomach. The vidyadhara stiffens, heart spiking to his throat so hard he nearly chokes. You seem equally shocked, but the sudden nervousness darts his eyes away before he could read anything beyond that.

Somewhere in the commotion Mr. Yang suggests they return to the mainland to get the general proper care and the group moves obligingly, sweeping the two of you back into the residual excitement following Phantylia’s defeat and once again snuffing out any opportunities to talk.

One chaotic trip later and you’re finally saying your goodbyes to the Luofu officials for the night. Jing Yuan was in the hands of trusted individuals in the Alchemy Commission and Fu Xuan gives you the barest skeleton of a debrief, the remaining group agreeing a more in-depth discussion can be reserved for the morning once all had at least had a chance to rest properly and the general’s condition has stabilized. Even so, Mr. Yang opts to remain a moment longer with the intention of discussing the nuances of their plan to handle the stellaron, and March had long ago left for her hotel room the moment everyone stepped back on the mainland, exhausted beyond compare. You had no doubt she’d be out like a light well into the following morning. However that, in turn, left you and Dan Heng alone to traverse the path back to your hotel. The starskiff ride was quiet. The walk from the docks to the hotel, soundless. If you had something to say you weren’t saying it yet, and Dan Heng had no idea where to even begin.

It isn’t until you’re reaching for the handle of your own room, ready to squeak out an awkward goodbye, that your hand is snatched in the grip of another. The motion was so sudden, his grip so desperate in those small seconds where he squeezed your fingers, that it nearly draws a startled sound out of you. Your fingers hover over the notch in the door, hesitating for only a fraction of a moment before turning to meet Dan Heng’s gaze for the first time since Scalegorge. You expect coldness and ferocity within the jade orbs that have been boring into you all day, aspects you’ve seen reflected throughout your battles. You braced for harsh words, some declaration that your Dan Heng (yours) was…

Well, whatever you were expecting was not what you received. Your breath hitches when instead he seems to plead, and for a moment you see your own uncertainties reflected in him. It’s the first time you felt anywhere close to being on the same page, the air swirling with questions and uncertainties barely held behind stoic lips. The hand enveloping yours refuses to let go, Dan Heng’s fingers twitching with the habitual urge thread your fingers together and feel whole again. To hold and kiss you until there wasn’t a doubt in your mind about who he was. Who he wants to be for you. But these things take time. He can see it in the way you chew at your lower lip, eyes darting to the side as you consider your options. He prays you’ll indulge him.

The few seconds of silence are grueling, the near-stranger in front of you daunting in appearance yet so gentle in how he holds on. But the squeeze of the hand around yours is so reminiscent of the Dan Heng who would comfort you during your worst bouts of anxiety — would hold you close beneath warm covers and scold you while dressing your wounds with the care of a lover — that you acquiesce, fingers retreating from your door and nodding slightly. Dan Heng nearly sighs the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Instead, you feel his grip loosen a fraction around your hand. His shoulders lose a bit of their stiffness, but he doesn’t let you go, and you allow him to lead you further down the hallway to his assigned room.

The silence between you persists.

Your eyes are trained on the back of his head, on the flow of dark hair down his back, and the teal tips of a set of semi-translucent horns. The offset of anxiety gives way for curiosity and idly, you wondered if you could touch them. Would he feel it if you did? Or would their translucent appearance allow your fingers to pass through as if they were nothing at all. Even as the battle had ended, Dan Heng remained in this form for reasons yet known to you. You had assumed (wrongly) that perhaps he was just… this now. But clearly something deeper was going on. Different from the worst of your spiraling predictions, and that gave you hope.

You’re brought back from your thoughts to the telltale click of an unlocked door and with a gentle tug of your hand in his, he leads you inside, only letting go once you’ve stepped in to close the door behind you. Your eyes scan the room in the meantime. A standard unit no different from your own on the first night here, though considerably untouched. You wonder if Dan Heng had slept at all since arriving on the Luofu. You knew he would sometimes meditate to stave off sleep, pulling countless nights working on the archives and only displaying symptoms of sleep deprivation if he got too deep into his work over the weeks. (Now that you think about it, a lot of his habits seemed a little inhuman…) No doubt he couldn’t walk the busier streets of the Luofu without drawing unwanted attention, cutting off more direct paths to more important locations. The thought has a slight frown tugging at the corners of your lips.

There’s a bit of an awkward moment as Dan Heng tries to figure out how to broach the subject, one you realize you’re all too familiar with. It’s when Dan Heng stands still, remaining dead silent when he’s expected to speak. He’ll stay there, fidgeting in his own way despite the discipline he so prides himself in. Crossing his arms, closing his eyes, concentrating as if the words would come to him easier. As eloquent with his speech as Dan Heng can be, he often struggled with connecting it to his feelings. It’s significantly easier when you’re there to help him through it. The familiarity is endearing, comforting in a way. Unintentional as it was on Dan Heng’s part. It spurs you to make the first move.

You settle on the side of the bed, marring the soft, pristine sheets. Teal eyes follow your every move, darting for any sign of familiarity from you while still being too afraid to approach. He’s uncertain of where the border lies, if it differs from what it was before, and ever the cautious man, Dan Heng doesn’t know where to push. You give your best attempt at a reassuring smile, smoothing out the worried tick in your brows and holding out a hand. An invite. One that Dan Heng accepts. You’re grateful when he takes it, movements ever so stilted as he shuffles to sit beside you. (You decide against drawing attention to how he keeps holding your hand afterwards.)

Dan Heng aches to be close, unable to help the way your thighs touch as he sits next to you. You radiate warmth even through his thick robes, gentle and familiar. He wanted nothing more than to sink into that warmth. “I…” He swallows dumbly, thumb rubbing circles into the back of your hand. Your more welcoming demeanor allows him room to think. “How… much,” he starts tentatively, keeping his eyes on your connected hands rather than you, “…have you learned of the previous High Elder?”

A quiet breath leaves you, one Dan Heng knows you’re trying to measure for his sake, but his worries spike anyways. “It…” The hand around yours squeezes tighter, and in the moments where you try to formulate your thoughts, his mind spirals through all your potential answers. The reason you were here must mean that some part of you, however small, still believes the Dan Heng you know still remains. He does. He knows he does. He’s all that left. Dan Heng sits before you, no different from the man you loved so warmly before all this began. Not Dan Feng. He just… needs to show you somehow. Quell your doubts just as he quells his own. “…” He braces to hear the sins of a past that is no longer his. The Sedition of Imbibitor Lunae, the unpardonable sin, and the sealed fate of all Vidyadhara.

“Does it… matter?” Your voice is tentative, quieter than he remembers. Dan Heng’s eyes widen unexpectedly. “When we first saw you today,” you continue, “you looked so different I... almost didn’t recognize you.” Now it’s your turn to look away, a reflection of your uncertainty in that moment burning into the floor. “For a moment I thought—” It's an awful feeling, one you can't bear for much longer. Your throat tightening, heart dropping to your stomach, dread settling like lead within you. Just the memory has you shuddering, blinking back tears meant for far worse scenarios. You lean against Dan Heng's side, craving normalcy just as much as him, and slip an arm around to hug his close, “I thought maybe you weren’t there anymore.” It's hard to say and even harder to hear. Dan Heng aches with the trepidation in your tone, squeezing your hand tightly. Like he could lose you in that moment.

“…I know.” It's all he can say.

“But... you’re still Dan Heng, right?”

He swallows the building pressure in his own throat, basking in the comfort of your pressure at his side while fighting back the urge to pull you closer still. To glut himself on you until the void of your absence sates. Dan Heng knows his answer. “Yes.” It's the most sure he's sounded, courage guiding his hand as it lifts your chin to face him. Draconic eyes bore into yours, sharp with determination despite the soft edges of unfettered yearning. "So long as you’ll have me, I want to be— I am Dan Heng.” He feels you shift beside him, jaw setting beneath his palm and this time, you look back at him with a scrutinizing stare. Eerily reminiscent of the way you had regarded the statue earlier. Nose scrunched and eyes slightly narrow. He’d find it cute under any other circumstance. Dan Heng stiffens. “Hmm…” Your spine straightens for a better vantage point, slipping your hand from his to poke at his cheek and tug gently at the sleeves of his clothing. “May I?” you ask, perhaps too politely to the vidyadhara’s anxious mind, but he nods all the same and you take his permission to raise yourself higher on the bed and gently settle yourself in his lap. Your legs straddle his on either side like you would any day before this one, and you let yourself look at him – really look at him – for the first time in this new form. Your familiar weight on his thighs is already doing wonders in quelling his nerves a bit. He’s thankful for the firm pressure there to ground him, and without thinking, he’s moved to rest his hands on your waist as he usually would. Always more than strong enough to keep you secure.

Dan Heng holds his breath under your scrutiny. He allows you to explore his more draconic form as you wish, using all his self-restraint to remain still as delicate fingers glide across his features. There’s a visible bob of his throat as digits rise from his neck and follow the curve of his jaw, brushing faintly across his lower lip before moving to press warm palms against his cheek. He wants more than anything to lean into your touch right now, nerves begging to feel more than just the trace of your touch against his lips after being apart for so long. But he’s frozen in place, more fearful that any sudden movements would scare you away. You’ve already been distant from him for far too long both physically and emotionally, and he doesn’t think he can stand you being so far for much longer.

You trace along the red marks lining his eyes, two now instead of the one mark you were used to. Your eyes catch his for a moment, finding piercing teal orbs staring back at you with an inherent intensity. Even unintentionally, his gaze demands your attention, longing and uncertainty swirling behind widened pupils. He was taking you in just as much as you were him, it would seem. So, your fingers continue their journey. Across his features, his nose and his cheek until ghost-like fingertips reach the auricle of his ear. The quiet breath he sucks in is… adorable, even more so the brief flash of teal in your peripheral signifying the movement of a tail. Soft fingers curl around the pointed tip of his ear to massage the cartilage gently between a thumb and forefinger, taking note of how his body stiffens a fraction. A different form yet his sensitive points have remained the same, it would seem. However, it’s only when he feels your touch travel upward along his hairline to trail soft pads along the curve of his horns that he fails to hold back a small, shuddering gasp.

“Sensitive…?” you ask as if it were nothing at all and there’s a slight hesitance in the shake of Dan Heng’s head, red beginning to visibly dust his cheeks. “Just… unexpected,” he settles on. The last thing he wanted was for you to stop. Not when you were finally so so close to him. He just couldn’t figure out what you were thinking. Were you aware of what your touch was doing to him? What it always does to him? Did you approve of all these differences in his appearance you were exploring so diligently? Or did you find it strange? Distasteful? Briefly, he finds himself regretting not reverting back to his more familiar form the moment they had left Scalegorge. He hadn’t needed to call upon the powers of the Imbibitor Lunae once Phantylia was dealt with, but every time he had glanced your way in this form, you had been looking elsewhere. He just couldn't move forward with you so uncertain about who he was. Who he wanted to be.

“Still mad at me for leaving without a goodbye kiss?” Your voice pulls him back to the present, wondering when he had closed his eyes in the first place with the way you were caressing his horns. It takes Dan Heng a moment to register your words, so distracted by the pass of your thumbs along its ridges. “W-what?” He blinks owlishly at you, pushing your hands away when he looks up half confused and half dumbfounded by the question. You smile impishly, arms coming to rest around his shoulders. “You always get grumpy when I leave without a kiss. So… are you?” The man frowns. You were teasing him. Dan Heng wants to get in your good graces. But… he couldn’t lie to you. On top of worrying about your wellbeing in the entirety of the week you’ve been apart, he’s also grown accustomed to spending his nights with you. Warm in the archives or out on a mission. He can understand a few days away, but to be without you for a week and without a goodbye kiss was… “I’m not mad, I just-…” His eyes flicker off to the ground beside you, hesitating as he finds his footing in his words. “I missed you.” Had he inherited the floppy ears of the Permanence along with those horns, you imagine they’d be sunken flat against the sides of his head with how saddened he looked in this moment. (Though you swear, swear you see those pointed ears tilt downward!!) But then you giggle, and he suddenly perks right up in surprise.

“Then you’re still my Dan Heng,” you hum softly and the relief that immediately floods the vidyadhara has him melting into your arms, canting his head forward to bump foreheads. The chime of another laugh makes him question if you had done all of this simply to tease him, wound up as he was. He’d think it cruel but, in the moment, he’s wanted nothing more than to hear those words. “Yes,” he breathes, unthinkingly. Arms wrap tighter around your waist, heeding wants to have you closer, and Dan Heng finally gives in to his desires. He closes what little distance was left to capture you in a kiss long overdue. Your lips were so soft, so perfect against his. Warm and gentle, the sensation all the sweeter having been without you for so long. Too long. You reciprocate with ease, a thumb stroking his cheek soothingly while your other hand slides down to rest at the side of his neck and he’s on cloud nine, sacrificing a hand of his own from your waist to reach for the back of your head and pull you closer, deeper, never wanting to let go.

“Yours.”

[rookflower]

on one hand yeah this is the kitty cat book fandom where at least 95% of the people here are just here to draw funny cats or for nostalgia reasons and it's really not that deep, there is nothing wrong with taking a critical backseat on this one. but on the other, the amount of people in the fandom who seem to genuinely believe that children's literature and xenofiction are both somehow inherently unworthy of any form of criticism whatsoever, to the point where random tumblr posts casually identifying shit like.... themes.... and narrative trends... is looking into things way too deeply and makes you a bad or stupid person in some way because "they're just cats", gives the literature student in me such a headache

[lorephobic]

literally nobody asked for it, but here's my list of saltburn essays that i've slowly been drafting over the course of the last week which WILL be required reading for anybody trying to engage with me about this movie. my very personal saltburn 101 syllabus just dropped

A Wolf in Deer's Clothing: Saltburn's Attempt at Innocence

an examination of party costumes and our character's last attempts to masquerade as something they're not: felix—an angel, all-forgiving and all-knowing, something to be worshiped; and oliver—a prey animal, prey to class-divide, prey to saltburn, prey to felix.

thoughts about oliver specifically are loosely organized in my #bambi tag

A Midsummer Night's Mare: Farleigh Start as the Ultimate Victim of Saltburn

a farleigh character study, about the ways he was mistreated and manipulated at saltburn, about fighting to stay alive and the scars left behind by knowing when to give in

alternatively titled "QuickStart", may be adapted into a conclusive essay specifically focusing on oliver and farleigh's relationship

The Eye of the Beholder: On Saltburn's Voyeurism & Violence [working title]

how wealth and class pushes the catton's toward the volatile reality of being able to look, but not touch. on desire and the lack thereof, and portraying yourself as an object to be desired

may end up as two separate essays on wealth and aestheticism but i'm pushing toward a conclusive essay about the intersection of the two, which i feel is at the heart of saltburn

alternatively titled "Poor Man's Pudding: A Melvillian Approach to Saltburn's Class", again, may be adapted into it's own essay

Gender-Fluid: A Study in Sexuality and Saltburn's Desire to be Dry

a deep dive into the bodily fluids of saltburn and how oliver upsets the standard of men who are just so lovely and dry. on the creative choice to lean into the messy wetness of sex and desire and the audience's instinct toward repulsion

a celebration of the grotesque and an examination of why we would label it as such

least developed of the four, heavily inspired by @charnelpit's lovely post about the fluids in saltburn

if anybody is actually interested in any of these, i can work toward something closer to a finished piece instead of just bullet points and quotes in a google doc, but mostly this is so i can share my very brief takes on a multitude of themes in saltburn that have been haunting me

edit for people seeing this in the future: all posts about my essays are being organized into my #saltburn 101 tag if you’re interested in following these through to development!

[crescenthistory]

what university sends out academic integrity suspicion mails on CHRISTMAS EVE??? 😭😭 i know they’re just being overly careful with this assignment and that it’s not Actual suspicion, just that i have to meet with my tutor to “check in” and “ensure” but BROOOO that shit makes me so stressed out

[rapidhighway]

venting like an idiot

the main reason i dont wanna go back to uni is that i feel like i've completely embarrassed myself last year. idk, i feel horrified at the thought of returning and looking these people in the eye. i didn't do anything, i was lazy and barely finished my projects and the only way to redeem myself somehow would be to come back with some new energy and work hard. i didn't even really get a job this summer because i really wanted to rest, cause i thought i would drop out. and i just feel worse, i feel even more tired

[bvshboy]

not to be controversial, but I'm starting to hate the math defenders on this app, like some people take it weirdly personally if you say you hate math, and I know this is a hard pill to swallow if you were praised as a child, but it's literally not about you

[pynkhues]

I left you a comment on ao3 but I still want to talk about this so I'm sending you an ask too. You are so good at characterisation that I love Louis so much but I also want to strangle him too. Please tell me he gets called on his bullshit in the next chapter!! He left Lestat like he's a worthless one night stand in Tokyo! So what if Lestat looked for validation elsewhere in the aftermath! Agrh... I just want to shake his hypocritical sexy ass!!! It's so unfair of him!!! It's not that Lestat won't stay or be faithful, it's that you expect it of him while telling him he should leave and fuck other people!! He is punishing him for doing what he asked of him! I'm sorry, you just made me have a lot of feelings! Good work!

!! I love that you all had those reaction, honestly, it's so lovely to know that my writing can stir up reactions like that. I know I've been publicly calling it the cruising fic, but in my own head it's kind of always been the Louis-is-his-own-worst-enemy fic, haha, and it's been really fun to actually explore that. I keep thinking about Louis' words to Lestat in the reunion, and I love them, but it's also like - - you can choose to be better, but change isn't something that happens overnight, right? And they both have so much baggage that they've never actually unpacked together, and the idea of that kind of rising to the surface in this period where they refuse to clarify what they want of each other, because that's the thing - -

Louis' trying to draw a boundary, Lestat's trying to respect it, but neither of them have actually talked to each other about what they want or need those to be. Louis keeps ghosting and pretending he's setting a boundary without actually telling Lestat what that boundary is (and maybe that's partially deliberate, because he wants Lestat to come find him, he's in deep, suffocating, desperate love with him), and Lestat keeps crossing it over fear of losing Louis for another century, and his own neediness, (and also because he really is in deep, smothering, desperate love with him too).

They're messy! But I promise they'll hash it out (mostly) in Part 3, haha.

[stinkrascal]

>:(

[not-cool-enough-to-scuba-dive]

actually I would quite like to hear your thoughts on gender philosophy in omegaverse worldbuilding? :3

hm. anon, I fear this is a far larger can of worms than you probably anticipated. I'm going to spare you the worst of it by only giving you a short version, but be careful what you wish for.

I'm also hiding it under a cut because even the short version is embarrassingly long.

I'm hardly a connoisseur of omegaverse content, nor would I consider myself anywhere near an expert. I don't want to speak for all fics as I've admittedly not read many. I did do my master's diss about legal gender recognition, so this is more about gender and philosophically sound worldbuilding than an indictment of any particular writing or story tbh.

the short answer is I find omegaverse worldbuilding really interesting, but I've never fully been able to enjoy it due to the way a/b/o identities tend to have a biological determinist slant to them imo, and tendency for a lack of real world implications of what the omegaverse does to gender and character interactions anywhere outside the bedroom. I'd love to figure out a version that's more inclusive and philosophically/ideologically consistent, both with itself and with my own views on real life gender (basically, I want to make it make more sense, have less biological determinism, and be more inclusive of the wider range of human experiences). this is a big task, and ngl I haven't achieved it and don't anticipate doing so any time soon. I have like, a concept in my head, taking apart all the key pieces and putting them together again but different, but to make it thorough enough would require more effort and time than I have because I'm like, employed 😔

I feel like someday if I ever get invited to a powerpoint night though, this could be It.

[sailforvalinor]

Idk if this is controversial, but studying for a English/writing degree at university shouldn’t make you NOT want to engage with writing or literature. Just a thought.

[afantasyoffiction]

character name reveals!

ive decided i want to ramble about linguistics so im posting updated name reveals for my OCs! this did not take long lol anonymity rip ig. anyways hopefully this makes my prior post make a bit more sense

Sabreia - pronounced sab-REE-uh, this is the updated name for my fmc. she was originally Sabrina but I wanted an update. Depending on particular regional accents, the pronunciation would shift: one character pronounces her name more slowly and deliberately, like saB-bREE-Yuh. technically this uses a diphthong so enunciating would make it sab-bree-ih-uh

Daegan - pronounced DAY-guhn. i love him and anyone who hurts him (its me im the problem its me, me and the narrative) has to answer to me. say it slowly and correctly enough and its nearly three syllables, because of the diphthong, so it would be DAY-ih-gun.

Araen - pronounced ah-RAY-un. its a diphthong, u know the drill. enunciation makes it ah-RAY-uhn while fast speaking makes it ah-rain. his father the shitty lord calls him ah-rie-un, a bit like the name ryan with an a at the beginning, because he's posh like that

isylida - let the y usage begin! this one is ih-ZIE-lih-duh. if you want, you can hint at an extra syllable by elongating the ie sound of the y, making it ih-ZIE-IH-lih-duh

Zandyr - my FAVE. ok listen here me out. Zahn-deer. basically the name Xander but remove the ugly dystopian X from the spelling and elongate what is normally an unstrssed schwa sound. be really emphatic about it and you can turn zahn-dehr into zahn-dee-yer

thats the main cast! if anyone is actually bother to read this shit, lemme know! i can share place names as well

basically i wanted to give them all a slightly otherworldly sense to them by emphasising a few unfamilar vowels. because of how casual speech worls, most of these names would jsut be pronounced with two syllables (daegan, zadnyr, araen) or three (sabreia) or four (isylida). BUT pronouncing diphthongs is cool because that's two long vowels smushed together! making an extra bonus syllable that you CAN enunciate should you choose to do so

[sforzesco]

You talked about Crassus not getting his wealth in "traditional" manner, and it made me think of Plutarch taking about how Sulla's wealth was also viewed with suspicion because his father actually left him nothing so becoming wealthy was a subversion of his inheritance. I'm just ... having thoughts.

IT'S SO FUN there's such a specific kind of wound that digs into both of them happening there, Sulla's wealth is a mark of suspicion the way that Crassus' wealth is a permanent stain

it's not to the same degree, but there is something almost thematic about Crassus being brought up in a modest household and Sulla having lived in cheap lodgings (or to continue the almost: the way that there is a specific kind of familial absence in the early narratives of their respective biographies). the ways that they both gained wealth and power taking unconventional turns (whether the suspicion is warranted or not), even by the rapidly unraveling standards of the time.

it's not a perfect comparison!! but in a way it's poetic to me?? recognition in a reflection that doesn't line up so instead it's unbearable and grating. Sulla was the only Roman who could hold Crassus to the floor, and Crassus got up anyway. they both crawled up the Roman political ladder, ruthless in achieving their goals. its the mortifying ordeal of being known enough and not vibing with it.

A Year of One’s Own: Dating the Praetorship of Marcus Crassus, Martin Stone

like, Sulla knew Crassus well enough to know how to hurt him, and boy that sure feels like something.

Plutarch, Crassus, trans. Warner.

ANYWAY, I'm getting off topic. oh my god I have gotten so far off the original topic of this ask.

to wrap it up: something something Sulla keeping the company of actors and such, and this text comparing Crassus to an actor about to enter the stage of politics once more, Sulla's role in freezing Crassus out of the traditional avenues of political power.

A Life in Pieces, Plutarch, Crassus 12.1-16-8, James T Chlup

Many Things Are Weird About The Main Cast Of The Last Generations Of The Roman Republic. lots of subversions and transgressions happening all over the place.

heughghh to finish this off, I've been thinking about this a lot while I write other things, but uhhhh my thoughts are Not Particularly Coherent. I've been reading lately on the Rizal-Bonifacio relationship and what it means to conflict with someone who is partially responsible for making you what you are—

Decimation: Myth, Discipline, and Death in the Roman Republic, Michael J. Taylor

—and it's bleeding into all the other filing cabinets in my mind.

[itissadbutitsmy-artblog]

favorite phenomenon is the existence of all the cute wizard city fanart entitled “this special looks so cute!! cant wait for it to come out!!” and “drew this while waiting for the last distant lands to air!! it looks really good!” and after it actually aired? radio silence.

[blackcurrant-juice]

wondering why im so fucking sleepy for no reason then remembered I forgot to take my meds for 3 days

[bmpmp3]

sometimes in academic-focused discussions about the concept of celebrity and parasociality and whatever I'll often see people use Miku as a framing device specifically as a hypothetical Perfect Celebrity, a virtual celebrity who can never do wrong and never gets tired, she will always say what you want to hear, etc. etc. and LIKE I UNDERSTAND why people are so engrossed in that idea, it's kind of what Crypton themselves push instead of focusing on software LOL (sorry im a little mean to them... well maybe things will change come august. crypton i am waiting. crypton i am waiting.)

but I feel like focusing so much on that is kind of buying into marketing a little too much? i really dont think that miku, from a media studies/visual culture/art historical standpoint at least, is akin to like a little digital lady gaga we can puppet for our own desires. i think that's missing the forest for the trees. in a visual culture sense, miku is much closer to that of like, a singing mickey mouse with much looser copyright restrictions LOL

the amount of videos ive seen and essays ive read that describe miku as like some kind of pawn that secretive anonymous actors force to speak for them and im like. okay i know this is rich coming from the guy in the miku jacket with the miku bag and cannot go 3 hours without googling a vocal synthesizer just to look at them BUT LIKE. i think we're overhumanizing her in this context like she's just a mascot you guys... its fun to think about some spooky scifi transhumanist concepts with her, but in the end she is a cartoon character representing the vocal equivalent of a piano VST in a DAW that regular people (not secretive anonymous actors with nefarious intentions) use to make their music and art

theres a lot of really interesting discussions on capitalism and all that with her as a framing device but like we neeeeed to focus on the real ass people making songs with her, illustrating her, manufacturing her merch, programming her software, etc. if we're talking about that 'cause like. again i am the person sleeping with the miku blanket with miku keychains attached to everything i own but like. she doesn't have feelings my dear academics. its okay for fans to focus on her emotions thats just what we do but my dear essay writer i found on jstor i need you to understand she is 1s and 0s. she is a mascot character. why are we focusing so much on her personal psychology.............. she doesnt have a braaaaaain..........

AND thats not to diminish the cultural impact of mascots, hell with my aforementioned mickey comparison i think we can realize just how much power a small illustrated character can have - its just i think you cant talk about a mascot the same way you talk about celebrity yknow... i just think theyre a little bit different even with some overlapping aspects and i think mascots need to be taken as they are, rather than pushed into a different media studies narrative. if that makes sense

[quatregats]

Okay hear me out. What if Hornblower and Lady Barbara but they're high school math olympians and also have a crazy psychosexual rivalry with each other