flemmings | Entries tagged with dragons

I was having a very nice dream about the four dragon kings who turned up for what I think was a cheese-tasting somewhere, with intimations that the other guests were maybe not human either, but I had to get up for a chiro appointment so all that remains are the bare facts and a vague impression that I was Gouen the Black Dragon.

This does not excuse the piggery of today, which included a Macdo delivery and chocolate, but at least I got my 30 minutes of biking in.

Browsing being the mindless activity it is, I can't say what led me to Versaille fanvids of Louis and Philippe on Youtube, but oh boy is it idtastic buracon clearly created just for me. (Emotional vibes are all Goukou/ Goushou with loyal neurotic Philippe confronting stony unresponsive Louis.) Except.. except... the hair. I can't be having with the hair. Too flat on top; spoils everything. Besides that neither actor is exactly swoon worthy on my swoon-o-meter. Maybe if there was a bit more height to the hair.

But I shan't be watching it anyway because one of the vids had a shot of corpses, including children, hung upside down by the ankles, so very nope nope nope.

House disgorges one of its long lost treasures, the brush attachment to the vacuum cleaner. It was sitting on the study table a foot from the computer all along, but shielded by Johnson Spot Blindness.

Woke yesterday to a For Sale sign on the next door lawn. Rather than wait for the spring feeding frenzy, bro-tachi are tapping the winter slump market. Evidently a wise move: bro had 15 messages on his phone by midday yesterday just from that alone. The showing was supposed to be tomorrow but people were tramping in and out all today, in bucketing rain. So much for what the local paper calls a lacklustre housing market. I of course have been in a state of gloom ever since. Hope it's a nice couple with children who will want a big back yard and not want to put the dividing fence back.

Bro-tachi were off looking at apartments this aft in soulless 70s structures, one bedroom because there are no two-bedroom to be had. Serious downsizing is going to happen there. Me, I think it'd be nice if I won one of this weekend's big ass lotteries and we could all stay put, bar a little renovating.

Crossposts: https://flemmings.livejournal.com/1005389.html

An insomniac night saw me finishing The Secret Chapter with its intriguing backstory hints about the dragon kings (and may I hope that reincarnated winged serpent at the end is a Chekov's gun?) And very nice too. Except that now I'm left with my library books which are nowhere as genial as the Library.

A choice between St. James' nasty supernatural doings at a boarding school ( The Broken Girls), Setterfield's very gothic The Thirteenth Tale, and the random violence and impenetrable internecine politics of Glen Cook's The Black Company. The grimdark of the latter never registered when I read it nearly 35 years ago, and I must say it's a lot more bearable than the looming suspense of the other two.

Though in my current mood- vaguely malaise-y before a storm front blows in, vaguely anxious about mobility next week in the aftermath of same- I probably should be reading something cheerful and mangaish instead. Or relentlessly nonfic, like The Pursuit of the Millennium.

Crossposts: https://flemmings.livejournal.com/996731.html

Random twitter thread over at Nora J's leads me to the Skyrim sound track, with its theme song in Dragonish. I shall never game, not with these elbows and wrists, but oh what earwormy music:

Dovahkiin, Dovahkiin naal ok zin los vahriin,
Wahdein vokul mahfaeraak ast vaal
Ahrk fin norok paal graan
fodnust vok zin dro zaan
Dovahkiin fah hin kogaan mu draal!

(Now how does one embed youtube videos when everything plays in the app and the app has no url?)

Crossposts: https://flemmings.livejournal.com/985268.html

I konmari'd my tops and t-shirt drawer the other day. Not sure if this will stick. It looks nice enough, but the refolding and rerolling when you pick a top that clashes with your trousers is a pain.

It's possible that tonight I won't have to turn the heat on, but I'll still have to bundle up well. As ever, temps are set to drop again the next five days, and some lucky folk will get snow.

Accomplished one item on my feet-dragging list. Took bike to store and asked about tune-ups. "Leave it today and you'll have it back in a week." Yes, well.Next step: check out new bikes. Foot-dragging on this is a luxury. In the past I've always had to buy a new bike because the old one was stolen. Maybe being bikeless for a week will give the same impetus.
( Reading )

Crossposts: https://flemmings.livejournal.com/965840.html

Very achy at work yesterday, went to get muscle relaxants from backpack, muscle relaxants weren't in any of the compartments. Could have sworn I had half a pack's worth left, but they weren't anywhere in my house either. This morning I reached into backpack to check for something and the first thing my hand touched was half a pack's worth of Robaxacet. I hate my bag of holding so much.

In a happier mood, last night was devoted to atmospheric dreaming. In one I was at a tony wine tasting laid on for my father by my godmother at the old-fashioned law office where he used to work, all walnut panelling and brass fittings and discreet lighting. (His real office was in a sterile 60s office building lit by fluorescents.) My brother was there too, but I had a feeling we'd kind of crashed the event. I wasn't supposed to, of course, but I opened one of the bottles, which is to say I sliced it in half down the middle and remarked in surprise to John that there was no core or pit in the centre- it was all yellow wine right through.

An earlier dream was about doing cleanup at the daycare, which wasn't the daycare but a second floor open-concept loft-like space with wooden walls. I was trying to get the last kid to go home with his parents (kid is the son of our local trans activists) but he kept on talking as is, in fact, his wont.

And in between was a sexual dream about the two oldest dragon brothers who sort-of kind-of kept morphing into Papuwa's Magic and Servis. I'm happy to encounter either set of brothers again in my dreams, and more than happy to have an erotic dream at all, because that just doesn't happen in the post-hormonal state.

Crossposts: https://flemmings.livejournal.com/939452.html

Dishes, laundry, cooking- those chicken thighs on special that were best before today. Reminded of chicken in tarragon by someone's chance post (though her version had cherry tomatoes ugh) I did the classic Pierre Franey recipe with shallots, butter, tarragon, and white wine. To which I added mustard and it was yummy yummy. Used Franey's quantities which were for a whole chicken and was left with lashings of sauce as a result, so steamed three large carrots, added them to the dish, and then ate them all.

And that will be dinner for the next two if not three days.

Early December sometimes does a harkback to November, and so did today, beginning with one of our rare fogs, the chance sight of which is more likely to make a Torontonian think something's on fire. Took me back to 1962 when fog stopped the final game of the Grey Cup, back in the days when football was played in an open stadium down by the lake. "The fog was thick enough that fans could not see the action on the field, receivers lost sight of the ball after it left the quarterbacks' hand, and punt returners could not find punts until they hit the ground."

But it lifted in short order and the day became milky blue sky and mild sun and a hazy horizon, a very English kind of afternoon. Walked to the local cafe and finished The Lost Plot, whose Dragons Behaving Badly left me missing my own dragons a little bit, even if mine behave badly for quite different reasons.

And in theory tomorrow is a day off and 10C, so we will see what that brings.

Crossposts: https://flemmings.livejournal.com/898583.html

Of course people my age dream about toilets as a subconscious nudge to wake up already, but I wonder why my subconscious tends to make them padded Louis XV jobbies, nice enough as chairs but useless for elimination purposes. Maybe it's the 'frustration' aspect that almost automatically goes with the 'toilet' part. Last night's dream, though, lacked the usual trope of 'looking for a toilet in Japan that isn't occupied and is usable.' I was in a Canadian and very probably Torontonian (going by its international denizens) mall or large restaurant. The Louis XV toilets were all lined up against the far wall, cheek by jowl and in full view of everyone: mostly occupied by people chatting with the stranger beside them while they relieved themselves. 'Oh yes,' I thought as I took my seat beside a 30-ish Italian guy, 'they have to be like this because of the unisex bathroom law.'

There were dragon kings involved earlier on, or in a separate dream, forgotten except for a vague fancy that it was about Gouen and sex.

Crossposts: http://flemmings.livejournal.com/861660.html

Went to take my lens out last night. Eye looked odd in the mirror. Closer inspection showed the quondam white was now a deep Dragon King red. Subconjunctival hemorrhage, it's called- don't click if close-ups of staring red eyeballs icks you- benign but very disconcerting.

Crossposts: http://flemmings.livejournal.com/861324.html

Actually, I went to sleep last night to the sound of thunder, another of those unseasonable storms we've had lately. What I woke to was the fragments of a vaguely erotic dream about the dragon kings, which was who the protagonists of the earlier, unremembered part of the dream had turned into. All that remains is the picture of Gouen (or possibly Goujun) standing very still on a night porch in a failed attempt to evade his oldest brother who was searching for him because Reasons. This still made me very happy for most of the morning until reality reasserted itself.

My mother was able to lose books in her bed- also lighters, cigarette packages, hair brushes, bed jackets, and you name it. I've now done the same. The book I was reading last night in the sideroom bed has simply vanished. I suppose it must have slipped down one side and slid underneath the platform, but I can't see it at all. No matter: wasn't an enthralling mystery after all. Started An Artist of the Floating World instead, hawkeyed looking for the hints that the unreliable narrator is unreliable.

Crossposts: http://flemmings.livejournal.com/742600.html

telophase has created a random prompt generator focusing on fantasy art. If I had a brain I would at once grab that prompt "Your picture is of a dragon with a gift to give, wearing soft boots."

...except I think I already included it in the current unending WIP.

Crossposts: http://flemmings.livejournal.com/725770.html

A Library ficlet, before

incandescens can Joss my ideas further in book 3. Take as A/U.
( Read more... )

A week late, but creativity won't be held to schedules. This is the

31_days prompt for May 11: gumusservi (moonlight shining on water)
( Actually that story is apocryphal )

When you write nothing for four years (well, three and a half if you count squibs) you forget how to write. So I'm sorry for the feebleness of this; it had a much better ending when I was telling it to myself at the laundromat, but I forgot that by the time I got home.

However,

31_days is using that list of 'foreign words that don't have English counterparts but should' and today's prompt is mamihlapinatapei-- supposedly Tierra del Fuegan for 'the look shared by two who desire to start something yet are reluctant to.' Hence the following, which happens after book two.
( Read more... )

Sitting at home waiting for people to call inevitably leads to Links.

Excerpt from Tsukumogami, Japanese household objects that wake up after their 100th birthday and become animate.

Name: Kyorinrin
Description: When ancient scrolls of wisdom sit around gathering dust, ignored by the humans who own them, they come together- compelled by the wisdom of the ages- and form a kind of goofy-looking dragon spirit. It’s kind of a vain thing. Puts its most ornate volumes on the outside, like a paper kimono or something. Even decorates with tassels. With its bird-like beak and long arms, it assaults the ignorant owners who ignored its priceless treasures and knowledge.

(There are of course many more of these. A possessed clock? They're all possessed if they have alarms. But one could argue that zorigami are the reason that clockmakers tend to go strange over time, like papyrologists do. Or do papyrologists just go blind? I forget now.)

petronia departed in Sunday's mist and falling leaves, and now my house is indubitably my house once more, rather than the Otherwhere it becomes when someone else is in it. Don't know why it shifts identity that way (mind says sardonically, and with some truth, 'because it's never this tidy when you're here alone') and anyway it only works with people I've known for less than 20 years. But recent acquaintance alter it quite out of recognition, and I miss the strangeness when it, and they, are gone.

2. I thought that the misidentification of a painting in the last Patricia Briggs I read would become a plot point. Someone says 'Here's the martyrdom of St Stephen. He's crucified upside down, as in the legends.' Ah, surely this man is an imposter! Um, no. The only significance is that Briggs didn't google 'martyrdom St Stephen' and let herself be led astray by her memories of the martyrdom of St Peter. This annoys me more than it should.
( Read more... )

Lying on my bed yesterday evening, listening to music in the lovely air conditioning while outside the closed windows it rained and thundered and was smelly-muggy, I started rummaging in the boxes on the far side of the bed and eventually pulled out a manga series sent to me ten years ago, called Red Dragon. At the time I noted it was not about a red dragon-- was naturally something set in Hong Kong probably involving gangsters-- and packed it back in the boxes. This time I started reading. I'm still not sure if it's about gangsters or just an extremely rich Chinese family, but no matter: what it is is by the numbers BL with only the slightest twist that the (distinctly underaged) young master our protagonist has a pash on is a) illegitimate b) the son of a foreigner and c) has eyes that change colour, frequently to red.

Red eyes of course are the sign of a dragon.

This might prove interesting if I can get past those tropes that used to drive me to foaming fury in the old days-- healing sex, and specifically healing sex after rape, which no truly *does not work that way* no matter how much the seme utters the magic words 'I'll be gentle.' (There's also the trope that Iya da does not mean No, but that one I already know the reasons for.)

Liralen mentions the nine sons of the dragon and phoenix, so of course I have to google it, and this is what I find on a page that otherwise tells you more about tea than any amateur needs to know; and this page to tell you that nine doesn't need to mean nine exactly, and also that the dragon's (maybe) ninth son Pixiu/ Tianlu / Bixie can be made nervous by light bouncing off mirrors.

Names, for my reference: Bi Xi- tortoise, Chi Wen- rain, Pu Lao- bells, Bi An- tiger, Tao Tie (or Tootie, as one page calls him)- food, Gong Fu- rain guard, Ya Zi- the fighter, San Mi- fire, Qiu Niu- bridges of instruments

As ever onmarkproductions tells you more about everything than anyone would care to know; but useful, oh yes very.

Annoyed flood-bringing dragons maybe. (Or maybe dragons are only in Edmonton. By the sound of it Calgary already has as many as it needs.)

This actually did occur to me when, say, my acupuncturist yesterday described water spurting three feet high from the sewer gratings near St Clair and Ossington as 'Garrison Creek came back to life.'

Grey and blowy day. Would not complain if the rest of the summer was like this.
( Cut for June reading and Death by Silver discussion/ spoilers )
Have Miyabe Miyuki in Japanese, who avers that the dragons on Nihonbashi Bridge are in fact winged kirin. Solves that problem.

( Cut for memeage )

Birks are wonderful things but if you wear them to walk several miles in the rain, as I did last Saturday, they will chew your feet to ribbons. Have a great gouge rubbed out of my right foot bunion that has plagued me all week, since keeping bandages around a bunion is, yanno, difficult, and then of course even the loosest sandal will chafe the spot or else fall off. Have finally discovered rolls of self-adhesive gauze; and that, I fancy, is what the doctor ordered.

Came home to a very pink plum-branch pattern envelope in the mailbox. (Well, maybe it's cherries, but this is *plum* season.) Turns out to be the book that was written for me: a signed copy of East Dragon, West Dragon, about, well, an eastern dragon and a western one.

East Dragon has eight brothers and sisters. They all live in the emperor's palace, where East Dragon practises his calligraphy. "East Dragon liked the emperor, who was quiet, wise, and always took the excellent advice of dragons." (Oh, if only.) West Dragon lives all alone in a cave and is constantly bothered by kings' champions. "Nothing made a cave smell nastier than roast knight."

"West Dragon thought East Dragon was a snob. East Dragon thought West Dragon was a slob." Pretty much it in a nutshell.

Love it. Thanks so much, Magnus and Nick!

"The best thing for being in a foaming fury", Merlin said, "is to clean something." (I was in a foaming fury for the usual RL reasons, boosted by my body's best efforts to lay me low with oh I dunno-- the usual December sinus infection, I fancy. Some things mindfulness meditation has no power to cure.)
( Read more... )

My grasshopper memory means I can't easily read WIPs. I need that 'in our last thrilling episode/ manga chapter/ tankoubon/ volume' reference for absolutely everything. I do want to read the ending of FMA, but I hesitate because it involves reading the last ten vols of FMA. At least. And every new Aaronovitch requires rereading the previous Aaronovitch. At least. And so on.
( As for online fic... )

I have finished Karin, oh woe oh woe alas where shall I find another wheeere shall I find aNOTHER???
( Cut for obscure grumbling )
But I keep forgetting that

kickinpants gave me Havemercy for Christmas, and Havemercy is turning into a fine substitute for Karin. And it's a long weekend, so I am content.

Kawasou Masumi draws very authentic Chinese dragons. She also draws very hawt dragons when they're in human form. Hair down to *here* in great black silky sheets, high cheekbones, narrow face, narrow eyes. No one has a picture online, of course.

But I look at her authentically bulge-eyed and snub-nosed dragons and think the human ones really ought to resemble Socrates.

I do not want my vacation to be over. (My wonderful three-and-a-half days off 'vacation'. But no matter.) I want to sit in my nice house and read Karin with three dictionaries at hand and a notebook to write unknown hanzi in, and watch kewl 敖兄, 'big brother Ao', ie 敖广/Ào Guǎng/ Goukou, aka 青竜 Seiryuu the azure dragon of the east (thank you wikipedia for a way out of the vexed 'is it blue or is it green' question) dealing with Immortals and Jade Emperors and what-all. Yes, the long-standing conflation of Gou Kou (peasanty homespun dragon brother) with Seiryuu, exalted guardian of the East, is alive and well in Karin. No complaints here.

I do wonder how many assistants she had to draw those lovely detailed backgrounds, a major pleasure in Kawasou-sensei's works. And

paleaswater, this manga has that 'all bodies of water are connected to the sea king's palace' trope in spades. Would this be where you got it from?

Pratchett, Nation
Gaiman, American Gods
Powers, The Drawing of the Dark

-- so three of the Big Names in SFF. And generally all very well, but give me the 100% Brit over the expat and the American. He passes the Johnson test at least, and possibly the Bechdel but I'd have to check.

McKillip, The Changeling Sea
-- a non-twee McKillip. How wonderful.
( More )

'"The best thing for being sad", Merlin said, "is to ~~clean~~ cook something."'

Is true. I ended a full-out anxiety state last February by finally making the stir-fry I'd been putting off for three days. Today I ended a full-blown snit by making the winter veg stew from Moosewood Cooks At Home, a book I bought in defiance of budget because it had a recipe for winter veg stew. Recipe alas calls for molasses, stolen from next door while they're away (molasses being one of the unlikely things meat-and-potatoes next door *would* have) and beer, which I may buy dealcoholized from the super. At the moment it tastes a little... lacking, though what it lacks is probably the mandatory rice I put in everything.
( Cut for erotic dragons )

1. White plastic dragon. Wants so bad.

2. The blue sunglasses from my cataract surgery. Evidently all I've ever wanted was to see the world through a blue filter. It calms me. It induces tranquility. And it makes the nasty bright light of late winter Go Away, says the Gollum in this corner. Alas, these glasses are thin and cheap and will not last forever; and for some reason no one makes blue-tinted wrap-arounds otherwise. But for the moment, am happy.
( More within )

Christmas in February.

incandescens sends me Sherlock DVDs. I have no TV-- well, I have one, or actually two, but neither are digital and neither shows shows any more. I hear there are ways to DL from the net, but such arcane technology is beyond this Gramma. So I was resigned that current shows would pass me by. But one will not! Thank you,

incandescens.

Meanwhile

xsmoonshine sends me a tiger's heart wrapped in a dragon's hide. Which is: a plushy keychain with a white and black striped tiger wearing a red dragon outfit. The dragon head becomes a hoodie kind of affair, the body is a coat. Ah, pictures! Mine is the smaller version, without teeth. As well: the dragon looks sufficiently kerblonxed as it is, to find himself a piece of apparel. 'Why do I have this tiger in my mouth?' Poor Goushou.

Googling for the above, I find something like the plush dragons

rasetsunyo sent me, sans treasure bag and box. So now you know.

Also belated happy birthday to

kickinpants and congratulations to

paleaswater on Thuglet #2.

And one of the mums at work said her two year old was talking about me: 'Jan? With the red top? Who lived in Tokyo?' How she picked that up I cannot say, but still.

It has been A Week, and isn't over yet. But still. I came home late last night after class, opened front door, and a box fell out from between that and the screen door. 'Huh? Can't be my bk1 order; SAL takes 2-3 weeks and they only got the thing filled last week sometime.' No, not my bk1 order. Two chubby red dragons, one holding a treasure bag and the other a treasure ship is it? They are currently brightening up my front room study. Thank you

rasetsunyo!
( Continung... )

A poem for

rasetsunyo, now with added Canadian content™.
( Apologies to AA Milne )

solaas and

avalonjones/

kagenami, your Christmas cards came. Thank you so much, and A and K, thank you for the dragon stickers. Year of the dragon again. The last one must have been 2000, which was before I dragoned; before I Saiyukied, in fact, at least before August. A good year: may we have a repeat in 2012.
( Read more... )

nekonexus wrote me a Goujun story. Stunning images, delicately edged characterization, and resonances that tickle at the mind as, yes, fish in a pond brush over the skin.

"But in the Ocean, he speaks the language of the waves, he knows how to see through what obscures others' vision."

"Non-attachment is a difficult thing for a dragon." Mh, yeah. It would be.

And this, which I love:

"...he hears the koi speak. Swifter than thought, they tell each other tales of what passes Below. Their voices jumble over each other - each one distinct, each one a thread in a cacophonic melody of imperfect harmonies. Each swish of a fin, each ripple, each breath through their gills - it is all a part of the story."

No, I *will* not say 'we are a tale told by a carp' but, well, the idea is there too. "... or a butterfly dreaming it was a Chinese philosopher."

Story is based on the seal script Confucian passage in this picture, whose text was so painstakingly unravelled by lovely friends in this entry.

NB Link takes you to the whole entry because there are other fics in there worth reading.

No, sorry, Whoever, but The Cardinal's Blades series is not better than Temeraire. Novik has her problems, but she doesn't describe all her characters' clothes in detail, and not all her women are slender beautiful young things.

Also, why is lj logging me out and changing my posting screens? Silly buggers.

Oh. I have been jossed. From the Minekura interview here

Q: Please explain the organization of the military. (Shizuoka Prefecture, Fuzuki Kouki-san, many others)

A: Including activity content, in-depth explanation is tedious…… Generally speaking, the military is divided into the Western Army and the Eastern Army, and only the lowest-ranking 'platoons' go out to actual battle. Tenpou is 'Field Marshal of the Western Army,' and his true rank is just below that of Goujun.

No Goushou and Gouen in Heaven, then.

(Granted, I was jossed two years ago, but two years ago I was under the weather, out of the loop, and on fairly substantial pain killers.)

I wish time was geographical, so one could go to the 60s for a week's vacation. This because of the sudden realization that autumn cities I have loved no longer exist. Yes, Pau and Paris and Tokyo are still there, but they're not the cities I saw. The feel of them has changed; and in Tokyo at least, the buildings have changed as well. Almost as bad as Toronto, if one goes by Streetview.
( Cut for surprising October stats )

I'd like to do the Japan 30-day meme, but it's all in the past, fifteen years ago, and that fact alone makes me feel melancholy, and I'm already feeling melancholy, so I will talk about baseball caps instead.
( Baseball caps are a fashion crime )

qwerty has been playing the icon game, and wrote me a chilling Saiyuuki vignette based on, no shit, LOLcats and sweetpeas-- yeah, those ones at the top.

She also gave me three of my own to play with, which, well, I played with.
( Dragons on the bridge )

feliciter is 'awfully intrigued by the possibilities in The Farmer and The Pig'?

The original source is happy to oblige.

Fic bit. Under the cut. The *html'd* cut because lj's rich text format is foutu beyond expressing.

No idea what happens next, is why it's a ficbit and not a fic.
( Read more... )

Seriously?

According to Xiaomingxiong, Chinese dragons "consistently enjoy sexual relationships with older men".

Mh yes well, I should like a footnote to that 'consistently', myself. I mean, I'm assuming 小明雄 isn't speaking from personal experience.
( July stats )

rasetsunyo draws a classical Chinese beauty of the dragon persuasion. Who is this? Is it Pipang?

My first thought was 'Oh! That's the young man Kaiei starts getting interested in at the Southern Ocean' (that no one here has met.) However, on second thought I'm not sure said young man (son of Goushou's chief steward IIRC) is quite so peerless a beauty as that. But then I'd never thought Pipang was a peerless beauty either.

joasakura drew me a picture of him long ago, which has to be here on one of these HDs somewhere, and she made him, mhh, I think 'lovesome' is the word I'd use. It's a gestalt, not just a physical attractiveness. I'd vaguely conceived Pipang as being good-looking enough, but of course no one looks at his *features* ever. It's that rare colour of his that focusses attention and inspires passion.
( But what if... )

Vote Temeraire!!! Go Temeraire! Sweet philosophical inquiring Chinese dragons rule 好!!

Spend half the afternoon squeezing out 239 reluctant words on the long-since petrified Kaiei story. Rolling stones uphill. Start bindertwine headache as a result. Then dash off 640 words of Hakkai POV for 31_days.

Life is not fair.

Anent my previous post,

xsmoonshine provides another point of view.

Oh come on, guys. Chinese dragons. They exist. (Well, they don't exactly *exist* but you know what I mean.) Look, if even Google managed to get it right...

Still, an interesting book to look forward to, whatever.

Story I wrote for

nekonexus' Christmas stocking:

Here is no water but only rock

--Goujun, Tenpou and the squad

And a Goujun drabble:
( Under the cut )

Just realized that my way of expressing Hakkai and Tenpou's desu-masu Japanese is to make their English Latinate. UnLatinate the English and they no longer sound like themselves to my ear. Goujun however speaks da-tai (checks: yes, even to Konzen), and I always Latinate *him*. Must unLatinate Goujun forthwith, since 'forthwith' is a word he'd never use.

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