#caligraphic

[viky-somebody]

happy joehills support weekend to all!

[worm-gar]

[lesser-vissir]

Chelsie Clinton had lice on December 6th

[444ngles]

Paint me like one of your French girls

synopsis: the night of your mentor's final show, things get a bit frisky content: fem reader, geto suguru! is a caligrapher, geto suguru, dirty talk, rough sex, praise, choking, p-ssy slapping, geto is packing icl, he paints on you, fingering, swearing, pet names, overstim, breeding

Wrapping up the last national tour show, your mentor took his bow, the crowd offering a standing ovation - rightly so. After all, you were the apprentice of one of the most esteemed calligraphers of your time. As always, you waited to greet Geto at the wing, a bouquet of flowers and sake in hand, over thirty shows in less than half a year was no easy feat, even for a professional. 

Taking the deepest of bows, Geto’s hair fell from his shoulders, yukata slipping slightly, the nape of his neck exposed. This was always your favourite part, it wasn’t professional by any means, but no one could deny that your master was a true adonis. From where you stood, he seemed to sparkle under the dim lighting, milky skin reflecting the subtle glow of the candle, looking almost translucent. It was also only from this angle that you could truly appreciate his profile, angular jaw and nose contrasting so magically with the soft slopes and curves of his lips and forehead. Finally, now as he looked at you with the most elegant smile, he approached, with eyes the colour of the darkest of voids, consuming you every second you held his gaze. Expression steeled, you almost forget to hand him his presents.  

“Incredible…”

“What was that?” Geto asked, eyes still on you, lips flushed such a delicate shade of pink. You knew it was inappropriate to fantasise about your mentor, but who could resist? When in the presence of a prodigy, it would almost be wrong not to worship him. 

Flustered, you laugh stiffly, handing him the bouquet of white lilies. “N-nothing…congratulations, as always, you were a pleasure to watch!” Keeping hold of the sake, you exhale a sigh of relief. Finally, with the tour over, you could relax - travelling daily was exhausting, to say the least. 

“Care to share a drink with me?” Geto nods to the bottle in your hand before peeping out to check the crowd has cleared, leaving the stage completely empty. 

“It’d be an honour.” Smiling enthusiastically, you followed him to the calligraphy table, breath caught in your throat as your giddy heart began to swell. Not only was this your first time on stage, it was your first time drinking with Geto.

“Stop being so formal with me…you’re off the clock.” Chuckling, he pushes the pillow towards you, kneeling on the floor opposite. 

“Old habits die hard.” Remembering to treat Geto as an equal was almost impossible. In your eyes, he was always the inspiration that had offered you personal tuition, a miracle in all sense of the word. Now, being able to call him your friend as well as your mentor felt like a fever dream. 

Pouring the sake into cups, he serves it to you. “Cheers!” Tapping the rims of your glasses together, you finally feel the tension break. 

The more you drank, and the longer you talked, the more you began to unwind. Noticeably, your yukata had begun to slip from your shoulders, the soft slopes and curves of your frame catching Geto’s eyes. Initially, he didn’t feel the need to address it, but when you finally dropped your hair from its formal updo he couldn’t help the shiver that ran down his spine. Taking a prolonged inhale, Geto digested the sight of such a beautiful woman before him. Probably goaded by the intimate setting and alcohol coursing through his veins, he suddenly felt the desire to touch you.  

Similarly, you had noticed the way his adams apple bobbed as he talked, and the way the sake that missed his mouth glossed his lips, his thumb swiping it away. Even the way he sat seemed to almost invite you to touch him, leant back on his arms, one leg propped up and the other splayed to the side. If not for your fear of ruining the otherwise pleasant atmosphere, you might have begged him to kiss you. 

“Kiss me…” 

Oh. It seemed you already did. 

“S-sorry?” Shocked, Geto’s eyes widened. He’d just been babbling about this book he’d read when you suddenly interrupted him. 

“I said, kiss me.” You don’t know whether it was the alcohol, but you had a newfound confidence, one that instantly excited Geto. The way your dollish eyes searched his for any kind of reciprocation almost made him coo, despite your bold words, it was evident you were just as shocked as he was. 

With no hesitation, Geto leaned across the table, his large hand wrapping around the back of your neck and pulling you into the most passionate of kisses. It was almost ravenous the way his tongue forced its way down your throat, making you yelp in surprise. He can’t help but chuckle at your cute reaction, struggling to contain his hunger as he kisses and nibbles at your lips. “I…thought…you’d…never…ask…” With each word punctuated by a kiss, your brain struggles to catch up with your body, mindlessly kissing him back with just as much desire. 

To your displeasure, Geto tears away from your lips, admiring the way your eyes had glossed over, lips swollen and sparkling with a mixture of his saliva and yours. “My gorgeous girl…” With a deep exhale, he guides you around the table, seating you infront of him as he reconnects your lips, the returning sensation comforting the growing ache between your thighs. Carefully, he lowers you, head resting on the tatami flooring as he towered above you, refusing to break the kiss. 

Geto’s hands began to tug at the fabric of your yukata, pulling it further down your shoulders, stopping at your cleavage before leaning back to admire just how angelic you looked beneath him, hair splayed beside you, arms curled up at your sides as you patiently anticipated his next move. 

“Can I touch you?” Nodding in response, he seems unsatisfied. “I need to hear you say it, my love.”

“You can touch me…” Almost sounding desperate with how breathless those words came out, Geto couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Thank you.” Only, you were shocked when you followed his movements, hand reaching for his calligraphy brush to the right of him, dabbing it in the ink and blotting away the excess.

“W-what are yo-” Before you can finish, Geto hushes you.

“Relax…you’ll enjoy it…” Gently, he leans down to press a loving kiss to your nose. Geto’s thumb soothed over your collar bones, tracing the raised skin, smoothing it out as if it were paper. Then, the bristles met your skin, cold liquid making you flinch. The air was tense as the paintbrush glided against you, each stroke and curve tingling on your skin, feeling like ghostly kisses across your chest. “Might be my best work.” Smirking, he admired how the dark ink settled, the kanji that spelt his name staining your skin.  Blowing gently, Geto instantly made space to spell his name down your neck, softly caressing where he intended to write. 

Over and over he marked your skin, leaving little space across your chest for much else. All the while, he began to shift on top of you, knee wedged temptingly between your thighs, inching closer and closer to your throbbing cunt. You hate to admit it, but the way his hair draped, grazing your hands, and that concentrated expression that contorted his pretty face spread goosebumps across your skin. Especially when so close, the scent of his sweet-woody cologne and the raw smell of skin encompassed you, warming your cheeks. “Look at that...so beautiful.” Geto exhaled, finally retiring his paintbrush, unable to turn his eyes away from your decorated decolletage. 

Reaching up, you tucked some loose strands of hair behind his ear, hearing him hum as he leant into your touch. Finally, he starts to kiss you again, this time, his knee firmly pressed against you, applying sinful pressure to your buzzing cunt. Long digits began to trace your figure, following the curves beneath the linen of your yukata before coming back up to graze past your hardening nipples. Geto could hardly contain himself, the way your body subtly demanded his touch made his already hard cock throb furiously, precum glazing his sensitive head. Your thighs spread slightly, welcoming his knee with an easy-to-miss eagerness, your hips rolling gently to make the most of the sensation. 

“Suguru…” He was pleasantly surprised when he heard you call out his first name. “T-touch me.”

“Awe, my baby can't wait any more?” Suddenly, his tone seemed a lot more demeaning, almost sarcastic as he retracted his knee slightly, eliciting a peeved whimper. “Show me how bad you want it…” Whispering seductively, he watched in anticipation as your hands ran down his neck and under the neckline of his clothes, before going back up to his face. Cupping his cheeks, you brought him in for a more intimate kiss, desperately rocking against his thigh, each time feeling his painfully hard erection poking your stomach. You almost shudder, realising each time just how big he was, feeling so thick and hard against you, even through the fabric of his yukata - ‘would he fit?’ you thought.

Laughing into the kiss, he feels how you momentarily freeze, finally giving in, he simply couldn’t wait any longer - he just had to break you. 

Digits reaching between your thighs, he prods and rubs at the wet patch on your panties, sighing as your slick coated his long fingers. Pulling them aside, his fingers scissor at your entrance before pushing in, stretching out your fluttering walls. “S-so tight…can’t imagine how good this is going to feel.” Bringing his lips to your ear, he nibbled and kissed at the shell, soft groans flooding your senses. 

You can barely hold yourself together as Geto’s forefinger stroked and curled against the plush of your walls, hitting spots you’d never reached by yourself. “F-fuck…s’so good…don’t stop!” Arching into his touch, Geto almost feels like he could bust here and now, watching keenly how you writhed and squirmed on his fingers. Desperate to hear more, he brought his thumb to your clit, rubbing precise circles while continuing to piston into your entrance. “M-more…”

Coming out as nothing more than a whisper, Geto could’ve missed it, but he was so intent on catching every moan and whine that it was unmistakable. “Oh? Think you can handle my cock already?” Scoffing, he lands a hard slap on your cunt, watching with a senile grin as you quiver at the sharp sting. “Fine…but don’t tell me to stop.” 

Falling back on his knees, Geto parts his yukata, and you watch eagerly as he does so. Thank god you did, the sight of his cock springing free, slapping against his abs was a sight that almost made you cum there and then, audibly moaning. Like you thought, he was huge, his hands wrapping around the tip and smearing his precum along his slit. With little effort, his other hand brought your legs up, holding them to your chest in a mating press. The view alone made Geto groan, the way your messy cunt glistened with slick only encouraging him further. With one pump of his length, his length is gliding between your folds, tip rubbing on your desperate clit, walls tensing in anticipation. 

“Pl-please…Sugu…” Whining so pathetically, Geto could hardly resist, roughly pushing his head past your entrance at your command. Fists squeezing tight, your face screws in surprise, the sudden feeling of being split apart on his length making your body stiffen. “ S’too much…too much!” Almost screaming as he continues to push his length in, with no pity he's bottoming out, tip pushing against your cervix.

“You can take it…I know you can.” Leaning against your thighs, he pushes himself almost impossibly deeper, finally being able to see the sweet expression on your face. His spare hand reaches down to your cheek, wiping a stray tear, twitching inside of you as he revelled over the way you struggled to take him. Almost impatiently, he’s pulling out again, thrusting his hips dangerously back into you, abusing your pretty cunt.

“So fucking good…you’re so f-fucking tight…” Hissing between clenched teeth, you barely make out the sly smirk painting his expression, the once delicate touch of your cheek being replaced with a tight grip on your neck, smudging the ink that he’d spent so much time decorating it with. “My precious girl…taking me so well…” 

Considering how composed and gentlemanly Geto usually was, just hearing him curse, let alone talk so filthily made you tighten around him. A flood of whines and moans pours straight from your parted lips to Geto’s cock, thrusting so ruggedly inside you, he almost felt more drunk off your pussy than the sake. Like a madman, he continued to push into you, sucked in by your walls, moulding around him like putty. 

“That’s it, such a good girl…I knew you could do it, just like that.” Rambling praises, Geto seems to make up for how rough he was being, hold on your throat pulsing as he struggled to contain his excitement. He almost felt like a teenage boy in that moment, so desperate to cum he could have released there and then. If not for his ego, he probably would’ve. But the way you squeezed and milked him was almost irresistible, something he’d never felt with anyone else. 

You, on the other hand, had never felt this full in your life. Not only was his sheer size impressive, but the way he precisely hit that sensitive spongey spot over and over again with little struggle sent you tumbling over the edge. 

“Cu-umming!” Gripping tightly onto his shoulders as he continued to pumel into you, those words were music to his ears, giving him new found stamina to continue ruining you. 

“That's it…cum for me.” Breathless, his words barely come out as grunts, hardly audible over the sound of his balls brutally slapping against your ass. Each thrust became more and more targeted, better yet when he leaned back, bringing his hand away from your neck and back to your partially neglected clit, watching in awe as you shook against him. Rolling the bundle of nerves so skillfully between his index and thumb as he continued to pummel into your pulsing core, he could hardly wait to see how you melted when you came. 

Lucky for him, he didn’t have to wait much longer, your shaking becoming more intense, arms falling slack as hot white flashes blinded your vision, shooting straight for your brain. The warm sensation that travelled up your legs almost numbed them, especially when he continued at such a violent pace. “F-fuck…what a pretty girl, cumming all over my cock…” Cursing and muttering, he bites harshly onto his lower lip. 

“Sugu…” Overstimulation washed over you when Geto continued to fuck into you even as your high passed. “S’too much…s-stop.” 

“Take it, fucking take it…I’m so close.” Feeling his cock twitch against your slick walls, sucking him in so deliciously despite your pleas. Each thrust became sloppier, still reaching just as deep as he came closer and closer to his orgasm. The volume of his groans and grunts only seemed to get louder, almost overpowering yours. 

With one final thrust, Geto was pumping you full of his hot cum, fucking it into you like he couldn’t let an ounce go to waste. “Such a good pussy…oh-oh-oh.” Struggling to even run that nasty mouth, his jaw fell slack, eyes squeezing shut as he road out his high, letting you take every minute of it. 

Coming to a stop, Geto released you from the almost painful mating press, almost cumming again when he watched his seed spill out of your cunt. “I can’t believe I waited this long to fuck you…” Running his hands through his hair, he drops to the floor beside you, lying on his side. 

Planting delicate kisses to your temple, his does his best to soothe the the pain, rubbing your thighs gently. “That was…” Lost for words, and exhausted, you struggle to vocalise just how you had felt.

“Incredible?”

Scoffing, you hit his chest, realising he had heard what you said earlier that evening. “Fuck you…” Rolling your eyes, you struggle to contain the stupid smile that spread across your lips.

“Again? Didn’t know I was that good.” 

The two of you laughed, laying on the stage a little while longer. What a wonderful finale to a brutal tour.

[paizau]

I finally figured out how to make a font!!!! yayyyy

It is a bit fat, and not that readable under font soze 16, but it's fineee this fineee this is like a caligraphic font. they're not supposed to be that readable anywayssss,,,

I made it using glyphrstudio, which is a very intuative web app, but it is a bit on the simpler side - which worked great for me 👍 also fontforge just doesn't work at all on my computer for some reason so I'm glad something did.

I won't go very deep into the letters, but here is abit about the punctuation:

a single dot, seperating words in a compound. equivilent to the dash and apostrophe in the romanisation.

double dots, separating words in a sentence. equivilent to a space.

triple dots, separating sentences. equivilent to a period. appears at the start and end of a sentence.

[yamayuandadu]

Horned hermits and immoral immortals: an inquiry into Zanmu's background

As you might remember from my previous post covering Zanmu, I was initially unable to tell how her historical background led to ZUN choosing to make her an oni. The historical, or at least legendary, Zanmu seemed to be, for all intent and purposes, a human. That has since changed, and the matter now seems considerably more clear to me. Read on to learn more about the real monk Zanmu is based on, and to find out what she has in common with the most famous Zen master in history, Taoist immortals, and Tsuno Daishi. Even if you are not particularly interested in Zanmu, this article might still worth be checking out, seeing as the discussed primary sources are also relevant to a number of other Touhou characters, including Byakuren, Yoshika and Kasen.

As in the case of the previous Touhou article, special thanks go to @just9art, who helped me with tracking down sources advised me while I was working on this.

The historical Zanmu

Statue of Zanmu from the Sazaedo pagoda (Fukushima Travel; reproduced for educational purposes only) As already pointed out by 9 here even before my previous post about Unfinished Dream of All Living Ghost, Zanmu is based on a real monk also named Zanmu. His full name was Nichihaku Zanmu (日白残夢), and he also went by Akikaze Dōjin, but even Japanese wikipedia simply refers to him as Zanmu. ZUN basically just swapped one kanji in the name, with 日白残夢 becoming 日白残無. The character 無, which replaces original 夢 (“dream”), means “nothingness” - more on that later.The search for sources pertaining to the historical Zanmu has tragically not been very successful. In contrast with some of the stars of the previous installments, like Prince Shotoku or Matarajin, he clearly isn’t the central topic of any monographs or even just journal articles. Ultimately the main sources to fall back on are chiefly offhand mentions, blog articles and some tweets of variable trustworthiness. The only academic publication in English I was able to locate which mentions Zanmu at all is the Japanese Biographical Index from 2004, published by De Gruyter. The price of this book is frankly outrageous for what it is, so here’s the sole mention of him screencapped for your convenience:

The book referenced here is the five volume biographical dictionary Dai Nihon Jinmei Jisho from 1937. I am unable to access it, but I was nonetheless able to cobble together some information about Zanmu from other sources. Not much can be said about Zanmu’s personal life. He was a Buddhist monk (though note a legend apparently refers to him as “neither a monk nor a layperson”, a formula typically designating legendary ascetics and the like) and a notable eccentric. Both of these elements are present in the bio of his Touhou counterpart.

The Sazaedo pagoda (Fukushima Travel; reproduced for educational purposes only)

Zanmu’s tangible accomplishments seem to be tied to the temple Shoso-ji, which he apparently founded. He is enshrined in the Sazaedo pagoda near it, though this building postdates him by over 200 years. It’s located in Aizuwakamatsu in Fukushima. You can see some additional photos of his statue displayed there in this tweet. It’s a pretty famous location due to its unique double helix structure, and it has a pretty extensive article on the Japanese wikipedia. It’s also covered on multiple tourist-oriented sites in English, where more photos are available (for example here or here). There’s even a model kit representing it out there. Sazeado’s fame does not really seem to have anything to do with Zanmu, though. While many Buddhist figures ZUN used as the basis for Touhou characters in the past belonged to the “esoteric” schools (Tendai and Shingon), Zanmu was a practitioner of the much better known Zen, specifically of the Rinzai school.

The kanji mu (無 ) caligraphed by Shikō Munakata (Saint Louis Art Museum; reproduced for educational purposes only) Since the concept of “nothingness” or “emptiness” represented by the kanji 無 (mu) plays a vital role in Zen (see here or here for a more detailed treatment of this topic; it’s covered on virtually every Zen-related website possible though), and there’s even a so-called mu kōan, it strikes me as possible this is the reason behind the slightly different writing of the names of ZUN’s Zanmu, as well as the source of her ability. Granted, the dialogue in the games makes it sound like Zanmu (and by extension Hisami) just talks about nothingness as a memento mori of sorts, which is not quite what it entails in Zen. Of course, ZUN does not adapt Buddhist doctrine 1:1 (lest we forget Kasen seemingly being unaware of the basics of Mahayana in WaHH) so this point might be irrelevant.

The legendary Zanmu

The eccentric monk Ikkyū (center), as imagined by Kawanabe Kyōsai (Egenolf Gallery; reproduced for educational purposes only)

A number of legends developed around the historical Zanmu. If this blog post is to be trusted, there is a tradition according to which he was a student of arguably the most famous member of the Rinzai school, and probably one of the most famous Buddhist monks in the history of Japan in general, Ikkyū. He is remembered as the archetypal eccentric monk, and spent much of his life traveling as a vagabond due to his disagreements with Buddhist establishment and unusual personal views on matters such as celibacy. As I already said in my previous article pertaining to Zanmu, long time readers of my blog might know Ikkyū from the tale of Jigoku Dayū and art inspired by it, though since this motif only arose in the Edo period it naturally does not represent an actual episode from his very much real career. 

A page from Ikkyū Gaikotsu (wikimedia commons)

In art a distinct tradition of depicting Ikkyū with skeletons developed, as seen both in the case of works showing him with his legendary student Jigoku Dayū and in the so-called Ikkyū Gaikotsu. Skeletons also played a role in Zen-inspired art in general (for more information see here). Whether this inspired ZUN to decorate Zanmu’s rock with bones is hard to determine, but it does not seem implausible. It would hardly be the deepest art history cut in the series, less arcane of a reference than the very existence of Mai and Satono or Kutaka’s pose. Obviously, it does not seem very plausible that Ikkyū ever actually met the historical Zanmu. Ikkyū passed away in 1481, and Zanmu in 1576, with his birth date currently unknown. Even if we assume he was a particularly long-lived individual and by some miracle was born while Ikkyu was still alive, it is somewhat doubtful that an elderly sick monk would be preaching Zen doctrine to an infant. However, apparently legends do provide a convenient explanation for this tradition. Purportedly Zanmu lived for an unusually long time. The figure of 139 years pops up online quite frequently, and does seem to depend on a genuine tradition, but even more fabulous claims are out there.

Kaison Hitachibō, as imagined by an unknown artist (wikimedia commons)

According to another legend, Zanmu was even older, and in fact remembered the Genpei war, which took place in the Heian period - nearly 400 years before his time. Supposedly he told many vivid tales about its famous participants, Yoshitsune and Benkei. A tradition according to which he was himself originally a legendary retainer of Yoshitsune, the warrior monk Kaison Hitachibō (常陸坊海尊) developed at some point. This has already been pointed out by others before me in relation to the Touhou version of Zanmu. From what I’ve seen, some Japanese fans in fact seem excited primarily about the prospect of Zanmu offering an opportunity to connect Touhou and works focused on the Genpei war. The tradition making Zanmu a centuries-old survivor from the Heian period must be relatively old, as his supposed immortality is already mentioned in Honchō Jinja Kō (本朝神社考; “Study of shrines”) by Razan Hayashi, who was active in the first half of the seventeenth century, mere decades after Zanmu’s death. While I found no explicit confirmation, it seems sensible to assume this legend was already in circulation while Zanmu was still alive, or at least that it developed very shortly after he passed away. Perhaps he really was invested in accounts of that period to the point he sounded as if he actually lived through it.

The choice of Kaison as Zanmu’s original name in the legend does not seem random, as there was a preexisting tradition according to which this legendary Heian figure was cursed with eternal life for betraying Yoshitsune by fleeing from the battlefield instead of remaining with his lord to die. You can read more about this here. Apparently there is a version where he instead becomes immortal to make it possible to pass down the story of the Genpei war to future generations (this is the only source I have to offer though), and there's even a well-received stage play based on it, Hitachibō Kaison (translated as "Kaison, priest of Hitachi") by Matsuyo Akimoto. Another thing worth pointing out is that Kaison was seemingly a Tendai monk from Mount Hiei, which means that even though Okina isn’t in a new game, you can still claim she’s metaphorically casting her shadow over it in some way if you squint (and that’s without going into the fact sarugami are associated with Mount Hiei). I've seen two separate sources which mention that according to a legend he trained Benkei there, and that the two did not get along because Kaison was a corrupt monk (lustful, keen on substance abuse, greedy, the usual routine). You can access them here and here,but bear in mind they're old. Zanmu’s Genpei war connection does not really seem to matter in Touhou, though, as ZUN pretty explicitly situated his version in the Sengoku period, with no mention of earlier events. Granted, if you like it, this should not prevent you from embracing the view that Zanmu is an alter ego of Kaison as your headcanon - as I said people are already doing that. It seems equally fair game as “Okina is Hata no Kawakatsu”, easily one of the most popular “historical” headcanons in the history of the franchise. According to this twitter thread, the legends about Zanmu’s longevity (or immortality) have a pretty long lifespan themseles, as they were referenced by relatively high profile modern writers, like Orikuchi Shinbou and Tatsuhiko Shibusawa. 

Buddhist immortals

A word carving of a sennin, "immortal" or "hermit" (wikimedia commons)

Legends about long-lived (or outright immortal) monks, such as Zanmu or Kaison, are hardly uncommon. A work which seems to be the key to understanding their early development, and by extension possibly also the portrayal of Zanmu in Touhou, might be Honchō Shinsenden, “Records of Japanese Immortals”. This title refers to a collection of setsuwa, short stories typically meant to convey religious knowledge or morals. Its title pretty much tells you what to expect. Honchō Shinsenden is an interesting work in that while it in theory deals with Buddhism, and largely describes the individual immortals as, well, Buddhists, it ultimately reflects a Taoist tradition. There is a strong case to be made that it was an inspiration for another Touhou installment, specifically Ten Desires, already, seeing as it mentions prince Shotoku and Miyako no Yoshika and its Taoist-adjacent context has a long paper trail in scholarship, but I will not go too deep into that topic here - expect it to be covered in a separate article later on. Stories of immortals are pretty schematic, and their protagonists can be categorized as belonging to a number of archetypes. I think it’s safe to say this has a lot to do with the self-referential character of this sort of literature - compilers of new works were obviously familiar with their forerunners, and imitated them for the sake of authenticity. In China, literary accounts of the lives of immortals circulated as early as in the first century BCE, with the concept of immortals (xian, 仙, read as sen in Japanese; this term and its derivatives have various other translations too, with Touhou media generally favoring “hermit”) itself already appearing slightly earlier. It seems Shenxian Zhuan (Biographies of Spirit Immortals) by a certain Ge Xuan, certified immortals enthusiast and cinnabar-based immortality elixir connoisseur (discussing and developing immortality elixirs was a popular pastime for literati in ancient and medieval China), can in particular be considered the inspiration for the later Japanese compilation. While the concept of immortals was largely developed by Taoists, tales focused on them were already not strictly the domain of Taoism by the time they reached Japan. They were embraced in Chinese culture in general, both in strictly religious context and more broadly in art. In Japan, they came to be incorporated into Buddhist worldview, and in fact Honchō Shinsenden states that their protagonists can be understood as “living Buddhas” (ikibotoke), a designation used to refer to particularly saintly Buddhists. Their devotion to both Buddhas and other related figures, and to local kami, is stressed multiple times too.

Presumably this was the result of the influence of the Japanese Buddhist concept of hijiri (聖), a type of particularly rigorous solitary ascetic in popular imagination regarded as almost divine. Needless to say, most of you are actually familiar with the hijiri even if you never read about them, as this is the source of Byakuren’s surname and a clear influence on her character too. In Honchō Shinsenden, it is outright said that the sign 仙, normally read as sen, should be read as hijiri in this case.

A portrait of Huisi (wikimedia commons)

The notion of extending one’s lifespan was not incompatible with Buddhism, as evidenced by tales of adepts who lived for a supernaturally long period of time to show their compassion to more beings or to get closer to the coming of Maitreya. Even the founder of the Tiantai school of Buddhism (the forerunner of Japanese Tendai), Huisi, was said to meditate in hopes of extending his life to witness Maitreya. At the same time, Chinese compilations of stories about immortals do not list Buddhists among them, in contrast with Japanese ones. This might be due to the rivalry between these religions which was at times rather pronounced in Tang China, culminating in events such as emperor Wuzong's persecution of Buddhism. Let’s return to Honchō Shinsenden, though. Its original author was most likely Ōe no Masafusa, active in the second half of the eleventh century. No full copy survives, but the original contents can nonetheless be restored based on various fragmentary manuscripts. Some of the sections are preserved as quotations in other texts or in larger compilations of stories, too. I have seen claims online that the historical Zanmu is covered in some editions of the Honchō Shinsenden or works dependent on it. So far I was only able to determine with certainty that Zanmu is covered alongside the immortals from Honchō Shinsenden in at least one modern monograph (Nishi-Nihon-hen by Kōsai Chigiri; if anyone of you have access to it I’d be interested to learn what exactly it says about Zanmu) and a number of posts and articles online. However, he lived around 400 years after this work was completed, so he quite obviously does not appear in its original version, contrary to what the Touhou wiki says right now. Masafusa does not necessarily portray the immortals as pinnacles of morality, and indeed moral virtues do not seem to be a prerequisite for attaining this status in his work. It is therefore possible that despite being setsuwa, his tales of immortals were an entirely literary endeavor and were not meant to evoke piety, let alone promote the worship of described figures.

A recurring pattern which unifies all of these tales is describing immortals as eccentric. As I already noted, this is a distinct characteristic of the historical Zanmu too, and it comes up in the bio of his Touhou counterpart as well. She has “reached the absolute pinnacle of eccentricity”. It seems safe to say ZUN is aware of that pattern, then, and consciously chose to highlight this. He also stresses that Zanmu has lived through an era of marital strife, specifically through the Sengoku period. The inclusion of such episodes is another innovation typical for Japanese immortal tales, and does appear to be a feature of the tradition pertaining to Zanmu’s counterpart too, as discussed above. Horned hermits?

A modern devotional statuette of Laozi with horns, found on ebay of all places; reproduced here for educational purposes only.

There is a further possible feature of Zanmu that might be tied to Honchō Shinsenden. While there are numerous physical traits attributed to immortals in Chinese sources, Masafusa decided to only ever highlight two. One of them are unusual bones, the other - horns on the forehead. Tragically one of my favorites, square pupils (mentioned in Liexian Zhuan), is missing. Masafusa relays that an anonymous hijiri, the “Rod-Striking Immortal”, grew stumpy horns as a sign of attaining his supernatural status.This might be a stretch, but perhaps Zanmu, due to being the Touhou version of a legendary immortal, also already had horns before becoming an oni. You have to admit it would be funny.

The two horns - or rather small bumps, based on available descriptions -  characteristic for some immortals were known as rijiao (日角; “sun-horn”) and yuenxuan (月懸; “moon crescent”). Such unusual physical features were already attributed to various legendary and historical rulers and sages in China in the first century CE, so this is not really a Taoist invention, but rather an adoption of beliefs widespread in China in the formative years of this religion. They also intersected with the early Buddhist tradition about the so-called “32 marks of the Buddha”, documented for example in Mahāvastu and later in Chinese Mahayana tradition which Taoist authors were familiar with. Yu the Great, the flood hero, was among the legendary figures said to possess horns in Chinese tradition. It is even sometimes believed Laozi had them when he was born, which according to Livia Kohn was meant to symbolically elevate him to the rank of such mythical figures as Fuxi.

While this is ultimately a post focused on Zanmu, I think it’s worth pointing out this belief in horned ascetics has very funny implications for Kasen. Being a “horned hermit” is not really an issue, it would appear. If anything, it adds a sense of authenticity. Clearly Kasen needs to study the classics more.

Immortals (and mortals) in hell

One last connection between Zanmu and legends about immortals is her role as an official in hell. However, this is much less directl. Early Chinese sources mention “Agents Beneath the Earth” (dixia zhu zhe 地下主者), a rank available to low class immortals choosing to serve in the land of the dead. They could be contrasted with the immortals inhabiting heaven, regarded as higher ranked than them. However, note that there are also many narratives focused on mortals becoming officials in hell - in Japan arguably the most famous case is the tale of Ono no Takamura, a historical poet from the early Heian period. In Chinese culture there are multiple examples but I think none come close to the popularity of judge Bao. It does not seem any immortals playing a similar role retain equal prominence in culture. Ultimately this paragraph is only a curiosity, and a much closer parallel to Zanmu's role in hell exists - and it’s connected to materials ZUN already referenced to booth.

Corrupt monks, oni and tengu

Ryōgen, the most famous monk turned demon, and his alter ego Tsuno Daishi (wikimedia commons)

In addition to characterizing Zanmu as eccentric, ZUN also wrote in her bio that she is a corrupt monk. As we learn, she developed a belief that the best way to reconcile the Sengoku period ethos which demanded boasting about the number of enemies killed with Buddhist precepts was to focus on spirits rather than the living, since she will basically deliver salvation to them. She ultimately “absorbed some beast-youkai spirits, thus discarding her life as a human”. This to my best knowledge does not really match any genuine tradition about the historical Zanmu, related figures or anyone else. As far as I can tell, it’s hard to find a direct parallel either in irl material or elsewhere in Touhou... at least if we stick to the details. More vaguely similar examples are not only attested, discussing them was for a time arguably the backbone of Buddhist discourse in Japan, and neatly explains why Zanmu became an oni. The idea that monks who broke Buddhist precepts in some way turned into monsters is not ZUN’s invention. It first appears in sources from the Heian period, and gained greater relevance in the Kamakura period. Particularly commonly it was asserted that members of Buddhist clergy who fail to attain nirvana turn into tengu. However, oni were an option too. Bernard Faure points out that Ryōgen, the archetypal example of a fallen monk (see here for a detailed discussion of this topic, and of his return to grace as a demon keeping other demons at bay), could be described as reborn as an oni, for example. The Shingon monk Shinzei is variously described as turning into an oni, a tengu or an onryō (vengeful spirit). Oni are also referenced in a similar context in Heike Monogatari alongside tenma, a term referring to demons obstructing enlightenment in general.

Corrupt monks turned into tengu in the Tengu Zoshi Emaki (wikimedia commons)

Typically it was believed that monks who turned into demons went to a realm variously known as makai, tengudō or madō. As you may know, normally there are three realms one should avoid reincarnating in - beasts, hungry ghosts and hell - but this was basically a bonus fourth one. Granted, this view was not recognized universally, and the alternative interpretation was that it was just a specific hell with a distinct name. At the absolute peak of this concept’s relevance, the foremost Buddhist thinkers of these times, including Nichiren, were accusing each other of being demons. Additionally, some of the past emperors, especially Sutoku and Goshirakawa, could be presented as tengu, for example in Hōgen monogatari. There was also an interest in finding gods who could keep the forces of disorder at bay. You can see echoes of these beliefs in rituals pertaining to Matarajin, which ZUN rather explicitly referenced in Aya's route in Hidden Star in Four Seasons. Typically the reason behind transformation into an oni, tengu or another vaguely similar being were earthly attachments. Alternatively, it could be pursuing gejutsu, “outside arts”, essentially teachings which fell outside of what was permitted by Buddhism. Note this does not necessarily mean anything originating in religions other than Buddhism, though, the term is more nuanced. So, for instance worship of kami or following Confucian values are perfectly fair game. A synonymous term was gedō, “heretical” way (on the use of the term “heresy” in the context of study of Buddhism see here). We can make a case for Zanmu’s bio alluding to that - she wanted to adhere to the social norms of the Sengoku period by symbolically taking in a headcount by absorbing spirits, I suppose. That’s not really a thing in any Buddhist literature, though, and I assume ZUN came up with this himself. Conclusion While this article is slightly less rigorous than my recent research ventures pertaining to Matarajin, let alone the Mesopotamian wiki operations, I hope it nonetheless sheds some additional light on Zanmu. I will admit I already liked her even before I started digging into the possible inspiration behind her, and finding out more only strengthened my enthusiasm. While there are clear parallels between Zanmu, her namesake and a variety of other characters from Japanese and Chinese literature and religions, as usual for a character made by ZUN her strength lies both in creative repurposing of these elements and in adding something new.

Postscriptum: Zanmu and Tang Sanzang?

Xuanzang, as depicted by an unknown Qing artist (wikimedia commons) While much about Zanmu’s character - her backstory as an eccentric fallen monk who became a demon, her apparent zen theme, and so on  - all form a coherent whole, there is a tiny detail which does not really match anything else discussed in this article. It does not come from her dialogue or bio, but rather from Enoko’s. As we learn, she became immortal herself after eating a piece of Zanmu’s body back when the latter was still a human. Or rather, the combination of that and subsequently consuming a magical gemstone as recommended by Zanmu did it - I’m pretty sure I misread this before. As 9 pointed out to me, probably the implications are just that Enoko’s backstory is a partial reference to Perfect Memento in Strict Sense, which does state that consuming the flesh of a monk would be a particularly suitable way for an ordinary animal to turn into a youkai. Still, comparisons between this tidbit and Journey to the West have been made by others before already, so I figured it would be suitable to address them here even if they lie beyond my own argument about the inspiration behind Zanmu. In this novel, many demons want to devour its protagonist Tang Sanzang because his flesh is said to make anyone who consumes immortal. This is because he is a reincarnation of Master Golden Cicada (Jinchan zi, 金蟬子), a disciple of the Buddha invented for the sake of the story. Interestingly, Sanzang is portrayed as an adherent of Chan Buddhism, the school from which Japanese Zen is derived (note that his historical forerunner Xuanzang belonged to the Yogācāra tradition instead). Despite the vague similarities, I ultimately do not think there are particularly close parallels between Zanmu and Sanzang. For starters, Zanmu is meant to be a corrupt monk, while Sanzang is the opposite of that. Their respective characters couldn’t differ more either. Throughout the entire novel, Sanzang is a pretty poor planner, shows doubt in his own abilities, and regularly misjudges the situation. Needless to say this does not exactly offer a good parallel to Zanmu. Sure, she creates a bootleg Wukong, but Sanzang did not create Wukong, the famous primate was just assigned to him as a bodyguard. Therefore, until evidence on the contrary appears (for example in an interview) I would personally remain cautiously pessimistic regarding a possible connection here.  Recommended reading

Bernard Faure, Rage and Ravage (Gods of Medieval Japan vol. 3)

Noga Ganany, Baogong as King Yama in the Literature and Religious Worship of Late-Imperial China

Zornica Kirkova, Roaming into the Beyond: Representations of Xian Immortality in Early Medieval Chinese Verse

Christoph Kleine & Livia Kohn, Daoist Immortality and Buddhist Holiness: A Study and Translation of the Honchō shinsen-den 

Livia Kohn, The Looks of Laozi

James Robson, The Institution of Daoism in the Central Region (Xiangzhong) of Hunan

Haruko Wakabayashi, From Conqueror of Evil to Devil King: Ryogen and Notions of Ma in Medieval Japanese Buddhism

Idem, The Seven Tengu Scrolls. Evil and the Rhetoric of Legitimacy in Medieval Japanese Buddhism

[posts-from-a-scarier-timeline]

imagine being me, seeing a sudden crapton of notes on this sideblog, and going "oh! someone found the blog and is spam liking again!" (ps I love it when that happens never apologize for spam liking/reblogging) and it's not that, the reason for the notes is cause the fuckin shiTPOST CALIGRAPHER REBLOGGED ONE OF MY POSTS??!?!

[somethingusefulfromflorida]

You wanna know what really fucking bugs me? The only Secretary of the Treasury whose name I know is Steve Mnuchin, Donald Trump's corrupt little toady. I know this because every single dollar bill has the signature of the Secretary of the Treasury on it, and while most signatures are illegible caligraphic scrawls, Steve printed his name in block letters like a child. Nine out of ten bills I get as change have his name on them, clear as day, so I am consistently reminded of the nazi regime that destroyed us. I don't know George W. Bush's Secretary of the Treasury, I don't know Barrack Obama's, I don't know Joe Biden's, but I know trump's, and I can't even ignore it when I see it.

These bills will circulate for decades. People are going to collect them in the future. Someone is going to frame one and hang it on their wall as the first dollar they ever earned. It makes me so irrationally angry I could spit.

STeVen T: MNUChin with random capitalization as if he had to sound it out one letter at a time, fuckin ay...

[daily-hyosatsu]

Do people commission artists/caligraphers for hyousatsu or how does it work? Especially with uncommon names or styles.

It hadn't occurred to me that you might commission them, how interesting! Google says that does happen, but I believe it's mostly from design companies. My icon is actually from a simulator like this where you can input text and try out different typefaces, designs, materials, etc.

If you wanna try it out, click the left icon ("Choose from series") to see all the different templates. (Or choose by door type [middle] or from the gallery [right].) If you find one you like, click the green button below it. From there it's mostly self-explanatory regardless of Japanese ability :)

[archiveoftheodd]

--arcaneTyrant[AT] TO caliGraphic[CG] at ??:?? am--

AT: Hey so I appreciate your work and all but I ask you please to not bring your pens and such into the Archives. It’s strictly against protocol. And can you clean up if you’re working on something? There’s a trail of spilled ink in the middle of the stacks.

CG: ??

CG: wdym

AT: What do you mean “wdym.” There’s ink.

AT: Ink is like one of the worst things to bring into the Archives

AT: Like up there with fire

AT: We can set up a workstation for you, if you need the space. Lay down some newspapers, or something.

AT: Just not the ARCHIVED newspapers.

CG: i mean i didn’t bring anything into the archives. i’ve been on wfh for like two months now??

AT: ??

CG: you didn’t notice? CG: wait didn't you sign off on that !!! ALERT in ARCHIVE ROOM 1 !!! --arcaneTyrant[AT] left the chat-- CG: :(

!!! ALERT in ARCHIVE ROOM 1 !!! --archivalAssistant[AA] TO arcaneTyrant[AT] at ??:?? am-- AA: So... don’t freak out. AT: no AA: One of the artifacts escaped. AT: What do you mean “escaped” AT: They’re objects AT: They don’t escape AT: They don’t even have brains

AA: Tell that to the missing ‘object’ from ????.01.11.1a AT: The KULLEN? I thought we had that because it’s a tipping hazard. It was a hold from the FTC. AA: Well when you think about it, walking is kind of just tipping and catching yourself. T: … AA: Okay, some good news! It’s trailing viscous black slime. AT: HOW IS THAT AT: G̷̹̜̿Ǒ̷̖̕O̸̳͔͑͊D̴͎̈́ NEWS --archivalAssistant[AA] left the chat-- -archivalAssistant[AA] TO arcaneTyrant[AT] AND caliGraphic[CG] at ??:?? am-- AA: Followed the slime! Where are y’all? CG: slime?????? AT: Please tell me the slime didn’t get anywhere important. The paperwork would kill me. Bee‘s at home. I’m in the Breakrooms. I‘ll meet up with you. CG: guys what AT: what was that AA: Do you have a trash can near you? AT: EV W̵͔̺͌H̴͖̬̒A̵͎̔T̸͈͛ WAS THAT NOISE AA: Okay so I need you to grab a trash can and a broom. AT: MULTIDIMENSIONAL ARCHIVAL STUDIES D̷I̵D̶ ̷N̷O̴T̶ ̵P̸R̷E̸P̷A̴R̶E̴ ̶M̸E̶ ̵FOR THIS CG: can someone tell me what’s going on

AA: Aww... AT: A̴͖̻̘̲̞̿̒̓A̷̡̤̩̮̾͆A̴̛̫̭̙͆̚͜A̴̜̠͊̔̽Ą̵̱̹̥̚Ä̸̗̞̯̹̒̒͜A̶͖̿́́̈́̄A̵̙͑̚ AA: Don‘t worry, boss. Its more scared of you than you are of it. AT: I‘m sure it‘s super cute when it‘s not CORNERD AND H̶I̷S̵S̶I̴N̷G̵ AA: Remember, it’s all for the documents! CG: oh he’ll do anything for the documents! --arcaneTyrant[AT] left the chat--

Art by @th3b33skn33s

[marabarl-and-marlbara]

hi mara! do you have any tips for drawing in ms paint? you're so good at it.

hi, anonymous; thank you -- honestly: there are many people much better than me, and the program itself doesn:t do much to handicap a persons skills, but there are a few nuances that i mostly only found out about via other people;

you can access a wider range of brush sizes by using [ctrl]+[+/-] -- i knew about this in the older versions of mspaint, but i didn:t realize it was ported over into the newer mspaint, however it only seems to work (for me) by using the numpad +/-

mspaint has customizable hotkeys! sort-of; to use them: right-click on any tool-icon in the ui, and add it to your quick-access ribbon, which then assigns it to the corresponding [alt]+[#] macro according to its position on the quick-access ribbon (which is the bar at the very top, next to undo/redo)

mspaint actually supports pressure sensitivity (and tilt too, i think), but only with specific brushes: oil and watercolor (maybe the caligraphic brushes too -- i forget, i don:t use them much)

you can use the shapes with the [marker fill] to imitate opacity overlays -- and in general: using the marker (or natural pencil, or basically any brush) is often better than using the eraser, for the purpose of erasing

this one is sort-of an "anti-tip," but the spray-can tool is sort-of unstable with tablets, i think; for me, there:s a random chance it:ll make my cursor disappear until i close the program, or it:ll cause the ui to mostly become nonfunctional -- i /think/ this has something to do with using the spray-can with black, but i have no idea, it:s jank and even has "hot spots" of where it:ll output color.

~that:s mostly everything that comes to mind; there:s the shift+drag thing but everyone knows about that (@nazar0199 on twitter uses it to really amazing textural effect; some other mspaint artist shout-outs: @pangchiucowboy/@nailgunwaowao uses canvas size really amazingly (this is something else i didn:t mention, but experiment with working at different zoom levels and massive/small canvas sizes); @henriettasdfkj doesn:t always use mspaint but does occasionally and does really fun rendering with the crayon/marker/pencil brushes).

practice every day, anonymous, and never give up on yourself, ok?

[bigblueoctoling]

I still have a lot to say about Palette Colors so I'm saving that for another post, but before I go make that post [it'll be a long one] I gotta talk about the choices for the weapons themselves.

Pearl, Marina, 4, Callie, and Marie are all pretty much locked in place. Easy choices, they all track.

Why the fuck does Shiver have the tri-stringer and Frye have the splatana

They literally explicitly use splatana iconography around Shiver, it's what the attacks Master Mega does are based on. I don't like saying this kind of thing but it literally feels like they just Forgot that Shiver was the splatana one. Kinda ties in with them in general barely giving Deep Cut any attention in this game (I'm still gonna make a post about that, too). I would also argue Frye's combat style is more accurately represented by the tri-stringer, considering she fires multiple projectiles [the eels] at you.

Why does Big Man use a bucket? He's a caligrapher, shouldn't he use the paint brush? It's not like the paintbrush is an especially Sheldon-y weapon. For that matter I would argue the bucket suits Sheldon better, if only because he's a horseshoe crab (like a little bucket).

I suppose Octavio using a splatling makes sense from the angle that he tends to fixate on big oversized weapons. Murch getting the luna blaster feels like a very "we've got nothing else in particular in mind" sort of choice. Which is fine I guess but I have no strong feelings about it.

Eight's weapon being the Octoshot is stupid and genuinely pissed me off a lot. Like- from a strictly lore perspective, I would've given her a charger, it's the only weapon she explicitly mentions in the mem cakes and it's, you know, The Amiibo Weapon. In my mind Eight's main weapon will always be an E-Liter. That being said, gameplay wise, I understand not making it that because obviously Marie has to be the charger one.

But the fact that there are 11 palettes, one for each weapon, and they save the 12th, Eight's, for the veeeeery end, REALLY sets you up for disappointment. Like I would've figured it'd be like, you can make the palette yourself (main, sub, special, and colors), since it's (Your) palette. Or, to coincide with Eight's palette being Weird, that it would be a Random Weapon, maybe per run or even per floor. The latter would absolutely make it harder, but I think making it just A Second Splattershot is the most boring choice possible.

...All that being said, it bugs me a lot less than Shiver and Frye having swapped weapons. Like why even give shiver the sword motif if she uses a bow and frye uses a sword. Absurd.

[deeptrashwitch]

Just reorganizing my room and I just noticed something...holy shit I have too many boxes of pencils and pens, even a caligraphic pen. AND I NEVER LEARNT TO USE ONE!!

I need to keep a register of all my writing tools, mostly because I always think I don't have any and just end up buying a box to be sure. At least I wont buy any at least for...a year if not more, promise that I won't waste any of it!

[cogbreath]

caligraphic buraq

[risingshine]

"I remember one time a caligrapher thought it would be romantic ta paint lines ta every freckle I have on ma body - and he was right. But it was calligraphy ink, so I couldn't wear or touch anything until I washed it off.

Ended up keeping it on fa all of 2 hours."

[mwolf0epsilon]

Exhale the Paint Fumes

Summary: Olly's spiraling smells a little like paint...

Recommended Song: Slow Walk

Canon Characters: Commander Fox, Clone Trooper Dogma, Sargent Hound, Grizzer the Massiff

Original Characters: Riot Trooper Olly Olly Oxenfree, Clone Trooper Lichtenberg Clone Trooper Pretty Boy, K9 Trooper Redacted, Communications Corrie Rhythm(@british-hero) Riot Trooper Red Alert(@british-hero), K9 Trooper Bumblebee(@british-hero), Clone Medic Remedy(@kkrazy256), Drift(@calamity-aims), Clone Medic Croissant(@gaeasun), Clone Medic Nocte(@purgetrooperfox).

[This story is heavily inspired by @calamity-aims 's fic "To Unexplain the Unforgivable", and @gaeasun 's fic "The Two Hundred". I would suggest giving those a read beforehand.]

THIS STORY IS ALSO ON AO3

---

Fox's office smells like fresh paint. The unpleasant smelling vapors cling to the walls, furniture and nostrils, even if the coat itself is not present on them. Because whenever the marshal commander of the Guard breaks out the paint, usually it's to add another name to his vambrace.

If Olly were the kind of clone to wax needless poetics, he'd likely akin both the scent and effects of the fumes to be what loss physically smelled and felt like. Seeing as he's no bard, and Fox is certainly no philosophical major, he never words such absurdity. There's just no point in trying to make a tragedy into art.

It was 200 this time...

200 names delicately etched on a piece of armour that had seen far too much in far too little time. 200 names that make the eyes water and the nose itch. 200 men erased and replaced like glitched software. 200 brothers that Olly has lost. That were stolen from Fox's attentive and caring hands because of something well outside of his control.

Neither of them speak. There really isn't any need for that. Not much either of them could say that would ease the pain or guilt, nor do they particularly feel like breaking the somber silence.

It's a minute of remembrance, honoring the not quite dead.

If Olly focuses hard enough he could almost hear the voices of the past. Each carefully caligraphed letter of a name so full of the impression of memories, that both gave him the drive to go on, and a newfound crack his already quite broken heart. A crack that threatens to finally shatter it into a million pieces.

He wonders what is going through Fox's mind as he completes his 109th name. What tormenting horrors poke and prod at his brain as he tries not to quake and quiver with each one he catalogs into somewhere so private and close. Probably the same kind of monsters that are gnawing at Olly's own gray matter. Monsters that remind him that he's lost everything and everyone to the cruelty of the galaxy. The indifference of Kamino, Coruscant and the GAR.

His unnamed ori'vode and vod'ika, spirited away by the demagolka that haunted his nightmares. Lich, lost and very likely devoured by the all-consuming shadows of Umbara's unending darkness. Pretty Boy, a traitorous defector that turned-tail and saved himself instead of coming back to help him grieve their brother. Rhythm, wiped clean like he was nothing more than a stubborn stain that needed to be removed from a fancy carpet.

Hell hath no fury like a vod who's got nothing left to lose. And yet... Olly can't bring himself to be angry anymore.

At least not right now.

156 names on a singular vambrace. Some older than the ones Fox has just added to the ever growing list. The other will no longer be bare. Each addition kills another piece of both of their souls.

Everyone knew riot troopers never got decommissioned nor reconditioned. There's no need because they're "mindless brutes". Why "fix" something that exists only to push back a crowd and deliver a violent beating? It would defeat the purpose of such a henously glamour-less position.

It also meant that those who'd endured the horrors of their hard to survive job, were left to sit around idly and helplessly watch their brothers be taken away from them. Sometimes never to return. Other times being brought back wrong and never the same.

Red Alert always told the Shiny Turtles not to get too attached, even if he himself failed to follow his own rule. Olly simply told them to hold on to the memories they'd made, and to look after the broken shells that came back from Kamino.

Not all of them took it well. It was hard on the heart. He'd caught so many kih'vode hanging from the drafters that at this point the idea of suicide within the barracks was not a novelty.

Telling Fox of these incidents always meant more paint smell. More fumes. More headaches. More stinging eyes and noses. More guilt, retching and dry-heaving over a dirty toilet bowl in some dingy establishment's bathroom.

Never a good idea to throw up in the Coruscant Guard barracks, their plumbing was and forever would be quite shitty.

Olly doesn't really know why he bothers to stick around to watch Fox whenever that happens. There's no point to him watching his commanding officer, his Guard ori'vod, adding the names to his armour.

It's not like the commander would ever dare to skip over a name.

Once, before Remedy got wiped that is, the bespectacled medic had suggested the methodical way Fox wrote the names might simply help the riot trooper to relax. Each line and curve forcing him to focus and take deeper even breaths.

Maybe he'd been right.

Time always seemed to slow down and make more sense when he sat by the marshal commander in these moments of sorrow.

200 names spread between two vambraces. Fox isn't bothering to conceal the hitch of his breath or the tears running down his face. Olly squeezes his shoulder once before leaving him to grieve in peace. Force gods only knew he was hanging by the fraying thread of what little dignity he still had remaining.

The veteran riot trooper refused to be the one to take that from him.

Olly's unofficial patrols start the moment he leaves the marshal commander's office. They're self-imposed. A personal mission he'd given himself the first time something like this had transpired. A way to reassure his weakened mind and broken heart, despite it doing exactly the opposite on most cases.

The outliers gave him hope. The hopeless causes took it away.

He takes a deep breath, inhales the "clean air" and the exhales the paint fumes he'd been breathing in all morning. Exhales his nerves and tries not to cough up a lung in the process. The stinging in his nasal cavity and throat are still there from the light chemical burns. And then he makes his way towards his various destinations.

His first stop is down in Storage where '22 can always be found.

Even after a full mind-scrub, Dogma's quirks hadn't quite left him. They likely never would, no matter how many times he got reconditioned, considering he'd always just been wired differently from the great majority of the rest of them. He still liked order and organization. Thrived doing inventory work.

He just doesn't respond the his old name anymore.

That's fine. He seems to like it when Olly calls him D22. Never asks why Olly walks in with his right first bandaged, just accepts the treat he forcefully pilfered from a vending machine that was located on one of the various blind-spots of Coruscant. The larger trooper used to hate stealing, now it was a necessity if he wanted to offer something his siblings were more inclined to eat.

'22 loved cupcakes just as much as Dogma. Olly can't bring back his kih'vod, but he can bring '22 a cupcake.

His second stop is the medbay, even if he hates going in there.

Seeing what used to be Remedy walking around with cropped hair and no glasses is very jarring. Not only to him but to the medics that hadn't been wiped yet. He could see it in Croissant's and Nocte's eyes whenever they thought he wasn't watching. Knew they feared what might befall them if the chancellor got upset at Fox anytime soon.

The CMO had always been a frowner, which hadn't changed. None of the reconned clones ever really smiled much.

8847 always zeroes in on his injured hand before anyone else could register the riot trooper's presence in the medbay. Before any of this happened, Olly would have shied away from his touch. Refusing to show weakness even to the kindly medics. A couple of glass shards in his hand were nothing compared with his full body pains after all.

Now he lets '47 do as he pleases with the injuries.

He's taken up whittling. He's pretty crap at it. Laughably so. There's always some shitty wooden figurine in one of his pouches to offer to the medic as a "gesture of gratitude" for the medical care. 8847 doesn't seem to understand why he gives them to him but, according to Nocte, he hasn't thrown any away.

Olly can't tell if he's just trying to be polite or if he's trying to figure out why anyone would make and keep tiny wooden trash. Sith-hells, maybe '47 is just trying to figure out what the hell any of the figurines are meant to be. The little tooka he'd tried to carve was so bad it kind of looked like a malformed star fighter.

His third stop is the kennels.

Olly is absolutely terrified of the massiffs kept there, but he forces himself to swallows his fear like a hard pill. He'd never really seen eye to eye with Hound, but he was still a vod. And he'd been Rhythm's friend. Now he didn't even seem to acknowledge the massiff he'd bonded with prior to being reconned. Something which registered with the creature, if the way it now behaved so sadly was anything to go by.

He'd taken a hard hit. That much was obvious from the way he looked at people and animals so vacantly. Olly mostly came to make sure he ate something at least once or twice per day. With shaky hands he also made sure to refill the bowls in the kennels, even though the movements of the caged little beasts made him recoil like he'd been burned.

The riot trooper was ashamed to admit he often didn't stick around to even have an attempted conversation with the K9 trooper. He left that up to Redacted who had taken on the majority of the work in the kennels since Hound and Bumblebee got wiped.

His fourth stop takes him straight to Drift.

6147 greets him stiffly as usual. He'd been an arc trooper once, and also one of very few vode that ever dared to spar with a turtle that stood at 6 feet tall and was as built as Alpha karking 17.

Everyone knew Olly's strength was abnormal. Alarmingly so.

Another factor which adds to his chronic aches. Human muscle was never meant to be used at the same capacity as a woolamander would use it. Adrenaline was thus the key to unlock such power. Olly had learned early on to control the lack of restraints Sulu Ra's serum had cursed him with, but he couldn't mend what the strain did to him. No one could.

He'd likely end up permanently disabled one day.

Despite the danger of real injury being an accidental likelihood of facing him on the mat, Drift had never feared him as an opponent in the slightest. Seemed fond of the challenge.

Drift had fought him like he'd fought any other brother. The ARC had even beat him on several occasions by being perceptive, quick and witty. Only one of those things hadn't left him. The lack of fear.

6147 hadn't beat him yet.

He was slower, less coordinated, less aware of his surroundings. Olly barely did much in their spars. Just let the vod burn the energy. Eventually the former ARC would just fall on his shebs on his own and listlessly sit there, seeming almost at a loss for why all of this felt wrong. It wasn't right to see him life this.

His stops took him everywhere around the Coruscant Guard HQ. Fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth... ...Two hundreth. His final stop was always Rhythm.

It was also the one that hurt him the most.

There was just nothing there. Nothing left of the clumsy but highly spirited vod'ika that reminded him so much of his own batchmates. Kamino had completely ruined him, from cutting the locks he'd so proudly styled, to removing the very light in those rich dark eyes of his. The only recognizable aspects were the freckles and scars. Fractured constellations.

Croissant had called him insane for putting himself through this. Nocte had just looked at him with such pity. He knows both of them mean well, but honestly kark them both for getting into his business. There was already so much that had been taken from him, he'd be damned if he lost this as well.

Torturous an ordeal or not, Olly would never abandon Rhythm. He can't let him go, even if the healthier option would be to do so. 2895 isn't Rhythm but that doesn't change the fact he used to be.

Maybe... Impossible as it may seem... He could be again...? If Olly tried hard enough...?

With a purpose he lets go of letting go. Just like a turtle Olly slow walks towards that one particularly unfeasable goal.

Even if it means indulging in things he honest to gods hated.

Like playing Rhythm's dumb little playlists full of songs that make his brain hurt. Or practicing twice as hard on his guitar playing skills even when he's too tired to lift it up properly. Sometimes he overturns the little box where he keeps the kids's little gifts, hoping '95 might recognize Agi's finger paints or Vite's handwriting. He has holopics of Lenta, from the few nights they'd all gone out together for some not quite cheap caf. He even holds the turtle plush Rhythm got him once as an apology gift for getting up to shenanigans...

The indifference behind '95's eyes never deters him. He tolerates Olly's company but doesn't seem curious at all about any of the memorabilia. Just seems interested in meticulously retouching his standard-painted shock trooper armour.

Olly's continuously dashed and renewed hopes smell like fresh paint.