#but 'you can translate them into meanings but it is a translation'

[ethereal-night-fairy]

AGELESS BLOGS AND MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED.

This by @ghouljams for some reason made me wonder what the men would be like when sick.

Price: Gets extremely congested and his snoring gets so much worse. He's practically a chainsaw. His sneezes are obnoxiously loud. His only saving grace is Vicks Vapo Rub. You have to rub it on his hairy chest so he can get some sleep. His bedside is also littered with snot filled tissues. Some tea and cough drops would be much appreciated if given. He sucks on them obnoxiously too but you don't mind as long as he's getting better. At least he's not stubbornly working unlike someone else you know. He has the most sense compared to the rest of the men when sick. But that doesn't mean he isn't stubborn when he wants to be.

Simon: He's also congested but tries to play it off as allergies (That man doesn't have allergies). Will not admit he's sick until he's physically unable to move due to the fever. Like he'll have to collapse onto the floor before he admits he has a cold. Will complain about being babied when you push him to lay down but secretly loves it. Likes being tucked into bed and told to rest because he can't say it to himself. Loves chicken soup and would propose to you if you make it for him. Will not admit it but he likes when you pat his head while he's resting. Overall he's difficult to deal with at the start but he's docile when pushed to rest.

Kyle: Suffers from extreme muscle pain when sick. Everything gets aggravated when he gets hit with a fever. He hates moving especially when he's running hot. He's another stubborn man, he'll only rest when things get bad. But is surprisingly willing to go to the doctor straight away when you say so. Would be eternally grateful when you massage his sore muscles and run him a bath to help his blocked sinuses. You'd have to keep his fever low by placing cooling cloths over his forehead. Also some muscle gels would do him wonders. By far the most agreeable when you tell him to do something to help his cold. He takes his medicine on time and he eats the food you give him.

Johnny: The most needy man you'll ever meet when sick. A total baby. Needs constant attention 24/7. Wants blankets, plushies, snacks, you name it he's asking you for it at some point. Is a nightmare when taking meds because he doesn't like the taste or the fact that the pill is too big. He's sticks to you like glue unwilling to let you leave more than 10 mins at a time. WILL COMPLAIN ABOUT EVERYTHING! Only until he can speak though. His sore throat quickly shuts him up. He needs to hear you talking constantly now that he can't hear his own voice. The constant chatter soothes him. He also thinks handjobs would help sweat out his fever... among a variety of other methods he'd like you to try too.. Worst patient ever!

Masterlist

Dividers by @cafekitsune

Copyright © by ethereal-night-fairy. 2024. All Rights Reserved. Writing not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or to use with AI technologies.

[dontbelasagnax]

I find as fandom has assimilated towards a capitalist mindset of consumption, there has been a larger focus on fanart and fanfiction- both in spaces that view creatives as "content creators" and spaces where creatives are seen as writers and authors but lauded similarly to celebrities or deities for gracing the common people with their creations.

This has produced a side effect wherein fanart and, primarily, fanfiction are seen as the Best Forms Of Transformative Works... which means that any other type of transformative work is thrown by the wayside.

There should be no hierarchy of fanworks - every single work is a labor of love (or spite... I see y'all throwing middle fingers to canon 😉) and should be recognized as such. Fandom is a community. It's not a transactional relationship. Everyone contributes and interacts out of shared passions and interests.

If you make podfics, gifs, photo edits, fanvids, fan binding, metas, fiber arts, jewelry, fanmixes, translate fics to another language, run/contribute to a fan wikia or compile lore and resources in other ways: I see, appreciate, and cherish all the hard, love fueled work you put into your creations.

Not to say that fanfic and digital art are over-appreciated (Since I do see that many people are allergic to pressing reblog. It's a community. We're supposed to share and communicate. Lurkers are valid but for the most part, interaction with like-minded people is what fandom is intended for.) but the pedestal they are placed on needs to be lowered. Your favorite artists and authors are real people with real lives. They piss and shit just like you. They work in retail and healthcare and are unemployed due to disability. There is nothing extraordinary about them and they are wonderful human beings all the same. No one is better than anyone else. We're all equals here on this playground.

That said, I think we need to uplift the underappreciated fanworks and creators and give them more attention so they are on equal footing with fanfic writers and fanartists. Reblog the gifsets and tell the creator you're in love with how they colored the gifs, keyboard smash in the tags when reblogging a plush doll someone crocheted of your blorbo, try listening to a podfic on your commute home instead of an audiobook and remember to leave a comment when you get home.

As a final note, I want to give a warm hug to anyone who has sat refreshing tumblr or ao3 hoping that maybe someone will tell them they did a good job. To anyone who has considered quitting their fandom endeavors because their posts or works never get as much attention and love as the rest of the artworks or fics in the fandom tags, your creations are worth making and sharing. Numbers do not equate to quality, nor can they convey how loved your creations are by a given person. Only you can bring your unique sparkle to fandom and your presence is absolutely welcome no matter how big or small, grandiose or inconsequential, important or worthless you think it is.

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Veni, Vidi, Vici | Michael Gavey x fem!reader

Summary: Things finally come to a head following the last of Michael's exams | Word Count: 3.2k~ | Warnings: p in v sex, virginity loss, somewhat tipsy sex

Part One : Quid Pro Quo Part Two : Carpe Diem

A:N: let's just ignore the fact this has been in my drafts since December 😘 And yes, I didn't come the first time either, it happens okkkk. Sorry if this is all over the place, I wrote half of it like four months ago and the other half last week soo

Every single time she saw his username pop up on her computer, an involuntary smile spread across her face, and warmth pooled in her belly with the memory of that evening still fresh in her mind. She isn’t quite sure what she enjoys remembering more, his flushed cheeks and glasses askew or the way he was trying to adjust his cargo trousers to somewhat hide his erection by the end of their second tryst.

After that short interaction though, she was surprised at his restraint, if not a bit impressed. She’d at least managed to avoid the irresistible pull of his company in time to finish the last of her exams. And as for Michael, were it not for the odd text message or the ‘active’ icon next to his username in MSN, she would have thought he dropped off the face of the planet.

Part of her can imagine him now, bent over his desk, twirling a pencil between his fingers, mind working like freshly-oiled cogs and pushing his glasses up his nose. Completely concentrated. And yet, he was still on his computer, with the application open, as if to test his own restraint.

And to be fair to him, he never cracked, not once. For the entire time since their last meeting and now, he never messaged.

With her own exams out of her way, she spent most of her time with Priya (albeit at the pub, with glasses of wine emptied as well as the details of every meeting she’d had with Michael Gavey).

“Oh my god, as if you are into nerdy little white boys!” she laughed with a cigarette perched between her two fingers and proclaimed far too loudly so that the entire pub heard.

“Shut u-” she retorted with a slap to her arm, “besides, not so little, if you know what I mean.”

“It’s like I hardly know you. I love it.”

“Stop it,” she retorts, sitting back in her chair with a flush to her face, “he's genuinely nice.”

“That's not what I heard,” Priya snorts, “I hear he had a hissy fit on like the first day ‘cos someone wouldn't ask him a sum.”

“He's very passionate.”

“Hm,” she widened her eyes, “let’s hope it translates.”

She presses her lips together to keep herself from smiling. Watching Priya’s mind tick will never get old.

“Oh my fucking god, is he a v-”

“Yes, Priya!”

She gasps in mock surprise, “you absolute gremlin. So you've not…?”

“Not yet,” she replies with a shake of her head, “told him we could after he's done his exams.”

“And you're making him wait for it? I had no idea you were so cruel.”

She shrugs, biting back a smile as her eyes drop to the table. Excitement bubbling in her belly.

Priya leans in, her voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper, "So, spill it then. What's the plan for the big night?"

She chuckles nervously, swirling the remnants of her wine in her glass. "I don't know, Priya. I've never been in this position before. It's like uncharted territory."

Priya's eyes widen with exaggerated shock. “My queen of confidence, feeling nervous? This I have to see."

She rolls her eyes, but there's a playful glint in them. "Oh, shut up. It's different when it's someone you actually like."

Priya nods understandingly, but then her expression turns mischievous. "Well, just remember to relax and enjoy yourself. And if all else fails, there's always wine."

She laughs, shaking her head. "Thanks, Priya. I appreciate the pep talk."

Priya grins, raising her glass. "To new adventures and nerdy white boys!"

As they continue chatting, her phone buzzes with a new message. She glances down at the screen, a faint blush creeping onto her cheeks. Priya notices her reaction and nudges her playfully. "Ooh, speak of the devil?"

She nods, trying to suppress her smile as she reads the message. "Yeah, he's just about to go in for his exam." 

Priya winks suggestively. "Maybe he's hoping for a sneak preview of what's to come? You know, for luck.”

“Ha ha,” she rolls her eyes, typing off a quick reply of good luck, “remind me to never tell you personal shit ever again.”

“Mate, it's the suit. You're gonna see him in it and jump his di-”

“Priya!”

“What?!”

She should have known better really that wine tends to have this loosening effect on Priya. And she'd barely finished her own glass before it was time to hop off and meet Michael after his very last exam. It was the perfect day for it, with the sun blaring, everyone was in a good mood, with an electrifying and exciting atmosphere light in the breeze.

As she waited with the other groups of friends waiting to cheer on the examinees, she felt that pleasant roll of nerves in her stomach, biting her lip to contain her smile.

She thought that with some level of embarrassment, she was really really falling for this guy. Or this ‘nerdy, white boy’ as Priya so eloquently put it.

Her cheeks hurt from smiling when she saw his lanky, suit clad form saunter out of the exam hall. Her chest ached pleasantly when he hopefully scanned the crowd, watching others join their friends in celebration. And for a moment, she thought she detected the slightest hint of fomo.

But nothing compared to when he finally spotted her.

Though Michael tried to hide it, a thin lipped smile spread across his face, fiddling with the cap he held in his palms, looking down as if to hide his expression.

Her hands found the front of his suit, affectionately running over the material, “Hey. You look nice.”

He nearly rolled his eyes, “can't wait to get out of it. Too hot for this.”

The excited squealing and shouting stole both of their attention for a moment, particularly Michael's. He glanced sideways at the Felix Catton, with his newest toy, smiling and laughing without a care in the world.

She furrowed her brows, patting his chest, “who's that?”

Michael blinked behind his glasses, throat bobbing as he remained quiet for a moment, “No-one. Come on, let's go.”

As they settled by the tranquil riverbank, the gentle murmur of the water providing a soothing backdrop, they both relaxed into the moment. The weight of the exam stress began to lift, replaced by the lightness of shared laughter and companionship.

Sitting side by side, their feet dangling over the edge, they clinked their bottles together in a silent toast before taking refreshing sips. The sun cast a warm glow over them, painting the scene with hues of gold and amber.

Leaning back on their hands, they watched as birds soared overhead, their graceful movements adding to the serenity of the afternoon. Occasionally, a playful breeze would ruffle their hair, prompting soft chuckles and playful swats.

“So, have you decided yet?” 

She glanced at him over her shoulder, “what?”

He fiddled with his tie that he'd long taken off in somewhat of a nervous gesture, “it’s been 142 minutes.”

She furrowed her brows, trying not to look amused, “since what?”

He chuckled, trying to hide his nerves. “You said you'd consider being my girlfriend after exams.”

Her smile widened, a fondness evident in her gaze. “Oh, that? Well, I guess it's been 142 minutes too long then, hasn't it?”

She could see the way he was trying not to look too relieved. “Really?”

“Really,” she confirmed, leaning in to press a tender kiss to his lips. “But only if you promise to stop counting the minutes.”

He cocked his head, a breathy laugh falling from between his lips, a faint flush rising to his cheeks at the brief moment of contact. “No can do.”

She hummed a laugh, the lightness of the situation making her stomach flip, “Are the Carol Vorderman posters non-negotiable too?”

He threw his head up to the sky, “Fucking christ, I don’t have-”

“I know! I know!”

Had Michael seen himself months ago, he wouldn’t have imagined it, walking back to his dorm with a half-empty stomach and the alcohol to replace it with a tipsy waddle, and a girl’s hand closed in his, swinging at their sides.

Whereas campus was usually rife with busy students, toing and froing between the library, lectures and their dorms, today was calm, clear. And it felt as if for once, Michael could loosen the reins on the anticipation that had been building in preparation for his exams, and relax into the soothing company she offered. 

She laughed as he tripped over the threshold to his room, the tiniest drop of fruity cider still at the bottom of her bottle. Michael flushed and immediately went to unbutton his shirt, looking somewhat apprehensive.

“Leave it on, if you want,” she smiled coyly, watching the way a blush crept up his neck, his wide blue eyes beneath the frames of his glasses all shy with anticipation.

“...you sure?”

She nodded immediately, trying to calm his nerves. Though she could hardly blame him, she'd felt the same flutters in her belly when it was her first time. She was sure he was no different.

“Course, looks good on you anyway,” she mused, her fingers gently swatting his hand away playfully to undo only the top few buttons. Michael shivered at her touch there, sending waves of pleasurable nerves through his body.

They stood there for a moment, taking each other in, and as she set her bottle down on the desk, she couldn't help but lean in to press one, two, tipsy kisses to his neck. If she could see his face, his eyes had long since slipped shut, lips parted as if not knowing what on earth to say.

“I've…never done this before.”

“It's okay,” she whispered, breath hot on his skin, “I'll look after you.”

The cheeky smile she gave him made his heart almost stop dead in his chest. But his confession, and her calm receiving of it, seemed to bridge the gap between them, and when she turned her head to look at him, he captured the surprised gasp between his lips, and worked up the courage he'd built the last two trysts of intimacy into this one tender moment.

It was gentle at first, hesitant. But as their mutual desire overcame their initial shyness, it deepened in no time.

Her hands found their way to the back of his neck, careful fingers threading up over his nap to the sandy, blonde hair that had formed a subtle wave from the humidity. His own hands settled on her waist, pulling their bodies flush. And the softness of her lips and the anticipation of his hands drifting lower to the hem of her dress, had his stomach doing backflips.

They moved to the bed by sheer instinct, their kisses growing more urgent as she gently pushed him down and straddled his lap, all while his hands roamed her back, waist and lower towards her thighs, exploring the contours and curves of her body above him.

She pulled back slightly, her own face flushed from heat, feeling his hardness already between her legs where she was placed on top of him, “trust me, okay?”

Michael nodded, the bob of his throat betraying how nervous he was, “I do...”

She smiled, her own confidence calming his nerves, and guided his hands to the straps of her dress, showing without words that there was nothing beneath it. Michael himself let out a strained whimper when her hand crept up his thigh, and massaged his erection through his suit trousers, squeezing up his shaft to the sensitive tip.

“We can do it like this, if you prefer..” she whispered, wanting to do things the way he wanted for his first time.

He nodded, looking up at her with an expression that said everything, relief, “yeah, please..”

Her hands were tender and slow, undoing the heavy buckle of his belt and popping the button, each movement making the air feel hot in his chest. And emboldened by their intimacy, his own hands slid up her thighs, rolling the hem of her dress up to her hips, sighing against her lips and smirking when she whined at his grip.

“Fuck-” 

It was her turn to grin when she finally wrapped her hand around him, pulling him from the confines of his boxers and teasing him with her touch. His eyes dared to look between them, at her slender fingers around his cock, drawing both delicious pleasure and sending sparks up his spine. 

Her hips lowered, to grind herself on his length, and Michael nearly lost it there and then, even thinking about being inside her. To be honest, it was part of the reason he wanted to stay clothed, because he'd finish too quickly if he saw her completely naked.

“You okay?” She asked with a pleased smile, knowing her answer without needing an answer.

“Y-yeah…do I need…”

“It's up to you,” she reassured, “I'm clean, and I'm on the pill so…”

He nodded, secretly a little mortified at the idea of having his first time without protection on his part. It had always been drilled into him that, in truth, he was a little apprehensive, but the knowledge that she was careful, made him feel better about it.

“Do you want me like this?” She asked quietly, her lips at his jaw, pressing tiny gentle kisses, “me on top.”

“Yeah, yeah…”, Michael nodded quickly, his hands tightening at her hips. In truth he just wanted to do it, too wound tight and excited to care about the position.

She shuffled closer, trailing her lips down his neck as she pulled her underwear to one side. Truthfully the alcohol, as little as it was, had made her a bit needy for him the second he walked out of the exam hall. And being his first time, it was probably just as well he didn't feel the need to prepare her, assuming it'd be overwhelming for him.

Slowly she lowered herself onto him, the initial stretch stealing the air from her lungs for a moment. She could feel his breath come in ragged gasps. His grip tighten. And as soon as she felt him tense, she stopped and let him decide when he wanted to continue.

She was so warm and tight around him, Michael couldn't help at first but think it was uncomfortable. But once he took a breath, he could feel her silky walls envelop him, closing in with a desperate hold. It was hard to stay still. And that initial discomfort ebbed into relaxation.

She was about to ask if he was okay, but she let out a strained moan, as his hands pushed her hips down to meet his as he pushed up, pulling her on top of him so that she was flush to his body.

Her hands held him tight, he felt utterly different inside her than she had imagined. The stretch of him was a pleasurable pain at first, but once she'd relaxed and adjusted around him, after months of no sex, she felt herself grind on him slightly.

“Jesus fucking Christ-”

She smiled at that, leaning up to face him, “you okay?..”

“God, yeah, very okay-” he manages.

“Do you want me to-”

“Can I…” he asks, “please.”

“Y-yeah-” 

His hand slipped behind her neck, tugging her lips down to his, while the other slid down her back, pushing her down on him to meet him halfway with every tentative thrust into her. From this position, with her chest nearly flush to his, her breasts rippling over the top of her dress rhythmically, she could feel him deeper. And the sensation had her unable to form any coherent thought.

She knew he wouldn't last long. Judging by the way he was moaning lowly against her lips and how his hips stuttered as they moved.

She also didn't expect any kind of orgasm from the experience, fully wanting it to just be comfortable for Michael and nothing else. But when he pulls her down, his hands snaking around her waist tightly, and the cooling sensation on his glasses against her shoulder as he buries his head there, she finds that, whether he intended to or not, he brushes against her sweet spot.

Michael groans as she tightens around him slightly, each push inside of her fuels the numb, simmering sparks of an orgasm, slowly building, and she is powerless to stop it.

“Fffuck-”

And yet she can feel him losing momentum. He's worn himself out too early she can tell. So pushing herself off his chest, she sits up on top of him and does the work herself. Her thighs burn and she feels a bit self conscious being in full view like this, but it feels too good for her to care. She grinds her hips down on his length, looking down at Michael and watching his appreciative expression, his glasses skewed slightly.

His jaw goes slack at the renewed pace, and his hands remain on her waist as he throws his head back, brows furrowed, the tell tale sign he's nearly there. So concentrated on moving on top of him, she knows she won't come, but it still feels nice nonetheless.

And as she pushes her hips backwards and forwards on him, nudging her sweet spot more forcefully, she cries out, causing Michael to look down between them and watch the way he disappears inside of her, moist bodies slapping together.

“Oh fuck, fuck, I'm-”

Michael would be ashamed to say how much he's touched himself to the thought of that first night with her, when she knelt between his legs in the common room. Of course, it felt good. But finishing inside her, with her smooth, velvety walls sucking him in, fluttering around him, feels so entirely different. It's like being on another planet.

His hips give a few final mini thrusts up into her, before he stills, riding out his high and letting himself descend from heaven. He is only brought back, when she leans down to kiss his neck, trailing up to his jaw.

“You okay?...” She asks, her voice ragged and quiet.

Michael swallows through breaths he sucks in, “yeah…” he answers simply, glancing up at her and smiling through foggy lenses. “You?”

She laughs breathily, her fingers drawing patterns on his chest, “More than okay.”

“Even though you didn't…?”

“Don't worry about me. Tonight was for you,” she smiles, sliding off him to his side, and pulling her dress down slightly. “You did great, you know.”

He chuckles, tucking himself away, slinging an arm around her, “guess all that practice watching Countdown paid off.”

She snorts a laugh at that, the atmosphere lifting, “yeah, remind me to send Carol Vordermann an official thank you.”

Michael grins, feeling more relaxed now. "You think she'd respond? Maybe send me an autograph for my wall?"

She laughs, nudging him playfully. "Oh, I'm sure she'd be thrilled to know she had such a positive impact on your life.” she smiles at him, tucking herself beneath the covers, “anyway stop talking about other women around me, I get jealous.”

“Sor-ry,” he smirks. Michael's grin widens as he pretends to ponder deeply. "Well, as long as you're teaching, maybe you could help me with all the different positions... in grammar, of course."

She laughs, her eyes twinkling with amusement as he rolls on top of her, her legs parting instinctually. "Oh, absolutely, but I must warn you, I'm very thorough."

Michael replies, voice low and warm, his hand stealing between them both to slide his fingers between her thighs. “Good thing I'm a quick learner then.”

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blackswxnn @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch

@castellomargot @emmaisafictionwhore @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @justbelljust

@minholy223 @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @primonizzutto

@qyburnsghost @randomdragonfires @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince

[sugar-grigri]

Sperm is the symbol of hope in pain, yes. Sit down, I'll explain.

Yes, even sperm has symbolism.

Although this title may sound catchy, I didn't phrase it that way to make it so, I really mean it. I'm just warning that some of my sentences are going to sound completely crazy. Let me begin. 

I've said it before, but when we have a tripartite chapter, the key to reading it is to link these three elements. What do kissing, love and sperm have to do with each other? The answer seems obvious, and refers back to the previous chapter. The link lies in the act committed in chapter 167. But I think it's more subtle and stronger than that. 

These three elements are impossible to deny. Just as Asa can't deny not loving Denji to Yoru, Yoru can't deny having kissed Denji twice, and wanting to kiss him again. Sperm carries the same message (crazy phrase). It is just as much a part of the realization of the previous elements, impossible to deny. It can be cleaned up, forgotten like kissing, denied like love, it is the concretization of the other two acts. 

Semen is perceived as negative, disgusting, sticky, as new feelings or an unexpected kiss can be. But above all it's a result that doesn't help either protagonist. 

Again it's crazy what I'm about to say. But just as the semen made Denji realize that Asa/Yoru wanted to kiss him, he hoped there was a feeling of love. Just as Asa and Yoru denied kissing and love for him, realized they had semen on their hands. I know it sounds weird when you say it like that, but it's not. Sexuality is a major theme in CSM. Just as its organic aspect carries a message. 

Sperm refers to the fact that Denji masturbates when he's unwell, just as he relies on the discovery of sex to be happy. The semen also reflects Asa's fear of intimacy. Just as it is a kind of victory for Yoru, who sexually assaulted them both. 

In short, the tripartite title basically refers to the feelings intertwined between these three pivots. And his order makes sense. It symbolizes the way Yoru interferes. 

Yoru kissed Denji for the first time at a time when Asa barely realized what she was feeling. It's vital to understand that, at this point, neither Yoru nor Asa were yet fully in love with Denji, since they hadn't yet developed feelings for CSM during the Falling Devil arc. 

The kiss came before the love. He was stolen. Whether it's because it's unexpected for Denji. And precipitous for Asa. 

Then there's the development of Asa's feelings, again leading to an appropriation of Yoru, committing a precipitous sexual act for both protagonists. 

But above all, the three elements were succinctly crossed out. The kiss had been temporarily forgotten by Yoru. The semen is washed away to forget the sexual assault. And Denji is denied love. 

Let me be very clear so that everyone understands. Love, kissing and semen are denied by Asa and happened in the wrong order for her.

Just as they are monopolized by Yoru.

Just as Denji places his hopes in them, and they are a logical consequence for him.

But it's not all doom and gloom. Because the name of the sushi restaurant is a coded message (another crazy phrase).

As I've said before, every element is a symbol. The fish are.

They hark back to the aquarium episode. As Asa despaired, Denji fed her fish and starfish, foods Asa disliked. Just as she was in despair and denied herself hope, fish is associated with regaining hope. Above all, the aquatic element is the antithesis of fire, represented by the fire demon who leads us to be what we desire, even if it means suffering for it. Fish is acceptance, fire disillusionment. 

It's not present in the English version and I don't know if it's translated from Japanese, but I hope so, but this chapter reinforces my interpretation: press the button to have hot water but but beware of burns. We have to relate the fish to understand the symbol of fire. Yes. 

So what does the restaurant's name mean? 

Two options. The key to facing death is hope. Or will the protagonists perish from hoping that happiness is within their reach ?

Actually I think it's deeper than that. I've been hoping for this for a few times now, so I'm going to try again. 

When Asa invited Denji, it was because she considered him less than a cat. Who else considered him less than a cat ?

When Asa was picky about food at the aquarium? Who else is? 

Who did Asa think of at the aquarium? 

For whom precisely does Denji not feel love in the sense that he feels it for Asa ? 

Remember when I said that the title refers to negation ? 

There's hope in death. 

When Denji says he wants to like sushi, symbolically it's to keep hope alive. 

But fish are a strong enough symbol to refer to someone whose name wasn't uttered once in part 2. Forgotten. 

Eating sushi will lead Denji to count on his family again. 

Like the hope of finding someone dear to him.

Love in horror.

Power.

But wait before you go. I lied, there's more despair than hope. You can't blame me, that's what Fujimoto does all the time.

What did Power do ? Die for love, right ? Hope, denial, love........

Power even died twice, didn't she? Cut in two, right?

I know Asa and Denji have already died, but they can die a second time, can't they ? But this time with two of them. Dying a second time together.

Do you miss the cursed number 2 ?

[whatdoeseverybodywant]

Rebuild & Restore - Chapter 8

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS

Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤ 

All OC Characters belong to me

Monday Morning

Kiyana walked into work that morning feeling like shit was going to hit the fan. Her date with Eli was… wonderful.. It took a while for her embarrassment to go away from Josh showing up and showing his ass but after getting over that they had a great time. If she was being honest, she could see herself settinging down again with him. She had a soft smile on her face as she walked over to the nurses station after checking in on a patient. 

Kiyana jumped as Debra plopped down on the chair next to her. “Spill the tea, tell me everything.” Kiyana laughed at her use of slang that she definitely learned from one of her grandchildren.  Kiyana smirked and contented to chart, laughing when Debra reached over and turned off the computer monitor. 

“Debra!.” She chortled, turning her chair to she was facing Debra who flagged her off.

“It was only the monitor, your work is good.” Debra rolled her eyes. “Spill!” Kiyana rolled her eyes aswell before telling Debra all about her and Eli’s date, minus her ex-husband showing up, she did not want to relive that, at all.  

Kiyana told Debra all about her evening with Elijah, how he took her to The Grand Marlin, how they took a nice stroll on the beach after dinner and when Kiyana told Debra that she and Elijah had gone back to his place, Debra’s eyes were as wide as saucers. 

“Wait, stop” Debra whispered, leaning in closer to Kiyana so none of the other nurses could hear what they were saying. “You guys didn’t… you know.” Kiyana bit her lip before she responded to Debra. 

“No, I mean we didn’t go all the way, if you know what I mean.” Debra’s eyes were still wide but there was now a smirk on her face. 

“Oh, I'm catching what you’re throwing.” she responded, making Kiyana laugh. “Was it good, better yet, was it better than your ex-husband?” 

“Oh my god, Debra!” Kiyana mutters as she placed her head in her hands, feeling her cheeks flush with embarrassment.  Debra stared at Kiyana as she awaited her answer. “Oh my god” Kiyana muttered again “it was good, but no, nowhere as close.” 

“Sorry to interrupt ya’ll.” One of the new nurses Arin, spoke up as she hung up the phone. “But we have a new patient coming into room 302. EMT’s said her contractions are 8 minutes apart, but she still wants to be admitted.” Kiyana nodded and stood from her seat to go get the patient’s room ready.

“We’re not done talking Nurse Jackson.” Debra called out after her and Kiyana made a yeah-yeah motion with her hand before walking away. Just as Kiyana finished putting a new sheet on the patient’s bed, the expected mother-to-be was rolled into the room. 

“Hi, I’m Kiyana. I'll be your nurse today.” She says as she walks over and helps the patient into the bed. 

“Nice to meet you.” The patient says, wincing in pain as another contraction hits her. Kiyana offers her hand so the patient could squeeze it. “Thank you.” 

“It’s no problem.” Kiyana smiles, “I’ve been in your position four times, I know them contractions hurt. Can I get your name and date of birth?”

“Alexis Daniels.”

'What a small world, Daniels isn't really a common last name.' Kiyana thinks as she logs into the computer to chart Alexis’ vitals.

“December 15th 1989” 

“Perfect, and what is baby boy's name?” 

“Me and my husband still haven’t fully agreed on a name yet, but I like the name Carter.” 

“That is such a cute name. It was my top choice for my youngest as well, but me and my - we went with Kairo.” Kiyana said, smiling at Alexis as she chided herself in her head for almost getting too personal with the patient, not everybody needed to know she was a divorced mother. “I can still put Carter in the chart or we can just call him baby Daniels until you and your husband come up with a name.” 

“Baby Daniels, is perfect. This is our third child but first boy and he really wants to be a part of the naming decision.” Alexis breathed out as another contraction hit her, she then cursed and threw her phone down next to her. “Speaking of husband, can you do me a huge favor.?” 

Kiyana stopped typing and turned her attention to Alexis. “Sure, anything you need.” 

Alexis smiles. “My husband actually works in this hospital, he’s a surgeon on the trauma floor. Do you think you can page him for me? He’s not answering his phone.” Alexis says, holding up her phone and Kiyana felt her stomach twist at Alexis’ words. 'Just a coincidence,' Kiyana thought. 'Just because her last name is Daniels doesn’t mean shit.'

“Mmhm, keep telling yourself that.” That other voice called out, making Kiyana frown. 

“Sure, I can.” She finally responded, plastering a smile on her face. “What’s his name?” 

“Elijah Daniels.”  Kiyana digs her fingernails into her thigh to stop herself from cursing. She was hurt. She felt sick to her stomach as she thought about what she and Eli did last night. 

“Shit, you got such a pretty pussy ma’” Elijah breathed out as he used his index and middle finger to spread her lips and suck her clit into his mouth. Kiyana moaned, lifting her hand to his head before frowning when she realized there was nothing there for her to grab on to. That thought quickly leaves her head as he thrust two of his fingers in her

She felt betrayed and played. Then she started to feel sick to her stomach. ‘Oh my god,’ She thought ‘I'm no better than that woman Josh was sleeping with.’ 

“Kiyana, are you okay?” Kiyana snapped out of her flashback, her voice shaking with anger as she responded back to Alexis 

“I’m fine. I’m gonna go page your husband for you.” Kiyana turns her back to Alexis and storms to the nurses station, snatching the phone off the hook she - as calmly as she could - pages Elijah to the labor & delivery floor. 

“Dr. Elijah Daniels to labor & deliver, Dr. Elijah Daniels to labor & delivery.” Debra arches an eyebrow at Kiyana. 

“You missed him that bad?” She jokes, laughing then stops as she feels the anger radiating off of Kiyana. “Sweetly what happened?” 

“That asshole is married with children! His wife is the patient in 302.” Debra’s jaw dropped open. “I feel so freaking stupid.” She hissed out just as the elevator dinged and the doors opened, revealing a cheerful Elijah who was smiling brightly as he made his way towards Kiyana. 

“I knew that was you, are you okay? Is everything good?.” He smiled, and Kiyana struggled to maintain her composure, because at that moment, all she wanted to do was to smack that smile off his damn face. The more she looked at him, the angrier she got. 

“I don’t know, you tell me.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Your wife is in room 302 waiting to deliver your third child.” She felt a sick satisfaction flow through her as the smile slowly left his face. Debra quickly decided to leave them alone, deciding it was time to go check on her patient. 

“Wait, I can explain.” Kiyana held her hand up, cutting him off. 

“I don’t wanna hear shit you have to say to me Elijah. Think about how your wife will feel once she finds -'' Elijah gripped her arm and pulled her down the hall, away from the nurses station. 

“She aint finding shit out, Kiyana. What I do ain’t none of her damn business.” When she tried to pull her arm away, he gripped it tighter, “You don’t know what I'm capable of Kiyana. You’re gonna go back in that damn room and help my wife through her discomfort and when the time comes, help deliver our child okay?!” He sneered at her, when she didn’t respond he squeezed her arm until she cried out in pain. 

“Ow! Stop. Okay! Okay!” She cried out in pain, feeling her tears sting her eyes. Elijah let go of her arm and straightened out his lab coat. 

“I’m gonna go check on my wife. I’ll see you later.” He brushed past her, leaving her rubbing her arm, where she knew she would be bruised, pulling his wedding ring out of the pocket and sliding it onto his finger. 

🙃🫣

i'm gonna go into hiding now

🏷️: @christinabae @southerngirl41 @reci1996 @empressdede @harmshake

@theninthwonder @alyyaanna @nbanenefrmdao @badbitchcentralinc @abadbitchblogs

@raya-hunter01 @msbigredmachine @dietothemusic @paigereeder @amandairene88

@woahthatshitfat @tian-monique @leaderofthebadbitchbrigade @allmyn1ghts @wrestlingprincess80

@reignsboy19 @cyberdejos2 @saintaquarius @bebesobrielo @scarlettnoir01

@alichesmi @xiamnetshonetpot @hunnidmilly @jeyusos-girl @li-da-savage

@qveenmikaelson @black-yn @mzv11 @shantinextdoor @sheydnni

@zillasvilla @thatone-girly @xmonetsworld @jeysbae @kill-the-artiste

@simpin4pixels @mindairy @that-one-anxious-mango @mersers-moonypadfoot-prongs @vebner37

@trashbin-nie @adoreesun @meggylynnloves @shayaaaaaaa @angiedawn02

@rianasixx @bookuce

[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow Part 15

part 1, prev part

note: yeah, this one's going to hurt

Dustin takes a few days before returning to the hospital again. Not because he fully wants to. His mom has been too busy to drive him and Steve’s not really available either. Between work and a period of really bad migraines, Dustin hasn’t wanted to bother him. Which is new to him, but they both could use the break.

This time off has actually helped him some. He’s focusing a bit more on school. Getting assignments done on time and paying more attention in his classes. He’s been able to sleep a little better. Can almost get through the night without waking up in a cold sweat.

It’s been better. So Dustin decides to go visit Eddie again.

Steve’s walking next to him, now up to visiting Eddie. Finally, over whatever was keeping him from even thinking of going into the hospital room unless he needed to. Dustin’s glad, it’s been helping him.

There’s a nurse asking Eddie some questions when they enter. And he’s responding. With words. Not just grunts or blinks. But actual words. Dusitn almost can’t believe it.

“What year is it?” the nurse asks.

Eddie takes a deep breath. “Nineteen,” another breath, “eighty-six.” His voice is scratchy and dry.

“Great,” she marks something on her chart.

Dustin takes his seat next to Wayne, looking hopeful.

“What day of the week is it?”

Eddie closes his eyes, as if he’s trying to pull the memories from his mind. He shakes his head. Looking tired and agitated. The nurse marks another thing on her chart.

Dustin looks to Wayne, the joy in his face falling when he sees the anguish in Wayne’s eyes. There’s something more to this. Something’s wrong.

“Can you tell me what happened right before you came in here, Eddie?”

Dustin freezes and sees Steve tense out of the corner of his eye. Both of them looking to Eddie to see what he says. Knowing that he can’t say what happened. Knowing that he technically could. The NDA waiting for him is left unsigned.

Eddie huffs out a breath, struggling to inhale another one. Starting to peel off the bandages around his IV’s. Struggling, trying to sit up.

“Ed,” Wayne leans forward, trying to reason with him. “We talked about this yesterday. You can’t take those things off. They’re keepin’ you alive, son.”

Yesterday. This isn’t the first time. Eddie’s been more awake for at least a day and no one told him.

Dustin glances at Steve, seeing a mix of emotions on his face. Pain, worry, fear. A deep, rich sadness. Like he knows the words Eddie is going to say next. Knows how terrible they are.

“Fuck you,” Eddie exhales. The look in his eyes both blank and full of anger. He continues to pick at the bandage, succeeding in getting it off.

Wayne grabs Eddie’s wrist, pulling it away from his IV. “I know you don’t mean that.”

“Fuck,” breathe, “you.” The anger doesn’t leave Eddie’s face. Terrifying in how much is translated with how little is expressed. The tiredness holding his muscles back from properly emoting. Yet perfectly getting the point across.

Steve leans down to whisper in Dustin’s ear. “Maybe we should leave. Come back later.”

Eddie’s head lifts when he finally registers Steve and Dustin’s presence. A new flicker of something comes to his face. Just to melt off again. Back to the resting ghost that’s taken over.

“Out,” he snaps. Pushing his arm into the air and pointing at Steve. “Out.”

“I think it’s best you both leave,” the nurse interjects. Trying to hold the IV in Eddie’s arm as he continues to pull.

Normally, Dusitn would protest. Say that he needs to be here. That it would make things better. But it’s only a matter of time until the anger turns on him. He’s not sure he could take that.

Wayne has to pry Eddie’s hand away from the IV again, holding it close to the bar. Just like another cuff. Eddie’s using all of his strength to try and wrench it away. But he’s weak. Falls into the pillows breathless. Exhausted.

Tears start to form in his eyes as his face scrunches up. A soundless sob releasing from his throat. He tries to fight the nurse while she’s reapplying the bandage around his IV. Finally giving up.

Eddie opens his eyes again, finally looking at Dustin. Taking one more giant breath before saying the first thing to him since he died. Tears painting down his face. Pain indented in his eyes.

“Leave,” he whispers. Pleads.

Dustin stands and leaves the room, only making a few steps before his own sob breaks free. There was no look of recognition in Eddie’s eyes. No spark when he saw Dustin. Nothing to give him any solace that Eddie knew who he was. Knew what Dustin meant to him. Knew what happened in those last moments. As Eddie’s body crumbled in Dustin arms.

He remembered none of it. But it remembered him.

Steve pulls Dustin away from the hallway. Wraps his arms around him, holding the pieces as they fall. As the hope Dustin foolishly held shatters. He thought waking up meant Eddie was getting better.

He now sees how wrong that idea was.

They sit silently next to each other in the waiting room. Dustin’s tears drying on his cheeks. Steve not knowing what to say, so just not saying anything at all. It’s deafening.

Wayne finds them after some time. Sits across from them. Silent, until he clears his throat. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

Dustin wants to respond. Ask what happened in the days he wasn’t here. But his mouth can’t seem to open for the words to form.

“Eddie,” Wayne continues. “Eddie’s goin’ through a bit of amnesia after fully waking up. It’s making him angry, and he’s fightin’ just because of the pain. It’s nothing against you.”

Dustin wasn’t in the room when Will was possessed by the Mind Flayer. He’s only heard the stories from Mike. How Will didn’t remember him that much. Could barely remember his own mom. How the monster took the memories and hid them away. Smothered them. Sequestered Will in his own mind.

Eddie wasn’t controlled by the Mind Flayer. Or anything from the Upside Down. Dustin had given El a picture of Eddie and asked her to see if he was the only one in there. That there was nothing lingering in the depths of his mind that would take him away.

It apparently didn’t need monsters to do that. Sometimes life did that for them.

“Do they know when, if, the amnesia will go away?” Steve asks. Dustin still speechless.

Wayne shakes his head, fighting the mist in his eyes. “Could be days, could be weeks. Won’t know until he’s more conscious. He’s still in and out of sleep, probably won’t be up again till tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. Dustin can only hope that Eddie remembers him tomorrow.

tag list, let me know if you want to be added or removed: @the-they-who-nerded, @insteviewetrust, @croatoan-like-its-hot, @jettestar,

@tinyplanet95, @steddie-as-they-go, @slv-333, @littlecelestialmoth, @thatonebadideapanda,

@fandomsanddeath, @marismorar, @wonderland-girl143-blog, @glass-bottle03, @gutterflower77,

@here4thetrama, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @jaytriesstuff, @cryptid-system, @manda-panda-monium,

@resident-gay-bitch, @anaibis, @xxsutherlandxx, @forevermineliv, @mugloversonly,

@gregre369, @n0-1-important, @different-tale-student, @spectrum-spectre, @tartarusknight,

@devondespresso, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @cheertain, @anti-ozzie, @autumncrocusandladybug,

@greeniebean911, @cr0w-culture, @stillfullofshit, @connected-dots, @daisynotquake,

@morgannotlefay, @a-little-unsteddie, @dolphincliffs, @maskofmirrors, @me-and-my-sloth,

[allfortheslay25]

How the Minyard-Josten kids see each other’s andreil

Translation cuz I know my writing is shit👇

Milo: Maya’s Drew is cold to me cuz I’m not his son. He’s bigger than my Drew and older. He looks cool but I can tell he dislikes me. My Drew can win in a fight

Milo: Maya’s Neil is old and tired looking and really attentive. He’s weird.

Milo: Ollie’s Drew is old but he’s way less squishy than my Drew. He is nicer than Maya’s but if he’s skinny, where will I nap? No more tummy naps :(

Milo: Ollie’s Neil is nice but suuuuper old. He likes me but I prefer my Dad.

Maya: Milo’s Andrew looks like he’d fight the McDonald’s for not during his depression with a happy meal. I want to slap his smile off his face. At least he knows how to dress. Still a loser with gross lungs.

Maya: Milo’s Neil is a harass. He looks like a loser. Scaredy cat. Why Milo listens to him, I have no clue. Raggedy Andy called, he wants Neil to keep the clothes cuz Neil ruined the style. The only good thing is that he lost his awful red hair.

Maya: Ollie’s Andrew is pale and skinny. He looks like an anorexic version of my dad. Subtle wrinkles too. I would sketch him… oh he’s kind too. Gross.

Maya: Ollie’s Neil is a pain in the ass. He’s sweet, it makes me sick. Pale like Ollie’s Andrew. Would be an interesting watercolor painting if I was up to it.

Ollie: Milo’s Dad is funny looking. I like his hair. Why is he fat? He looks emo too. My dad doesn’t smile this much but my dad’s smile is nicer.

Ollie: Milo’s DadMom looks like a depressed Bambi. He’s super young. I like that our eyes match. But he’s too tiny. My dad can beat him.

Ollie: Maya’s dad is mean. He looks like a scary dark beach ball. Or a thug. He looks like a thug for sure. Scary.

Ollie: Maya’s red dad is also scary. Zombie guy. My dad has scars too but this guy is crusty.

Maya’s Andrew does not like Milo because he has not a single connection with him. Milo is a stranger and his existence only means pain to Neil. Her Neil feels a responsibility towards him. The Andrew doesn’t like Oliver either but is way more indifferent since Oliver’s existence isn’t painful to Neil. Maya’s Neil really likes Oliver but pales at the idea of two chaotic kids.

Oliver’s Andrew is indifferent like Neil but they both are kind to Milo and Maya anyway. Those two are far more put together than any of the other andreils.

Milo’s Andrew ignores them and would definitely have a childish argument with both. Neil would be confused on how to feel.

Facts: Maya has an issue with saying rude things. When she’s older, she keeps her mouth shut since she was taught “if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all”. So she drags them all through the mud in her judgments

[merakiarchives]

Jiyan from Wuthering waves.....I need you to hear me out- (Can really be anything, fluff or smut idc, I just need him in my life)

The Dragons Dearest

౨ 🎐 ⋆ﾟ ⊹ ˚ ✦ 🫖 ৎ

Characters: Jiyan x FEM! Reader

———»«———

Genre: Smut/Fluff, Fic

———»«———

Warnings: Organism(s), Overstimulation, pwp, Inappropriate language, fingering, mirror fuck, squirting,

———»«———

A/N: Hey guys! Sorry abt the Chinese translations, I’m not 100% sure they’re correct sorry! Also, this is kinda bad tbh. ._.

౨ 🐉 ⋆ﾟ ⊹ ˚ ✦ 💎 ৎ

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

It was a day off for your very busy boyfriend. Being the General of the Midnight Rangers and all, he really never did get a break. So, you had of course, started to make him breakfast.

Simple Steamed buns (baozi), pancakes (jianbing), and fried dough sticks (youtiao) for the two of your to share. Going to wake up your boyfriend, you chuckle as you watch him stir and sit up.

Looking at you leaning on the door frame he smiled slightly. Opening his arms expectedly, you make your way into bed and hug him.

“Morning love..” your lover’s raspy voice muttered, paired with his bedhead has been an irresistible combination. A soft kiss to your forehead had woken you up from your daze.

“Morning Jiyan” you chuckle, kissing him back and beginning to craft a messy braid with his turquoise hair. “Breakfast is ready.”

“Really now? I didn’t expect breakfast in bed.” He chuckles, carefully pulling your hands out of his hair and pulling them together.

“What..?” You chuckle, raising an eyebrow at him as he pushed you back into the sheets and began to kiss your jaw

he’s so soft—so caring. his butterfly kisses make you drowsy again, the tingly sensations running from your jaw to your nape, and back down to your shoulders and upper arms.

“You know what I mean.. ‘m a little pent up from not being able to see my Xīn'ài (treasure) for so long.” Jiyan chuckled, his smirk growing as you blush and squirm in his grasp. Trailing his hand to the waist of your pants and swiftly pulling them down.

“Jiyan! The breakfa-! Haah.. J-Jiyan!?” You moan, watching as he tugs his cock out of his boxers. Grinding his cock upwards, tip prodding at that sweet spot that makes your toes curl.

“Aaaagh! O-oh fuck! S-slow down!” You whimper, wrapping your legs around Jiyan’d waist before he carefully inserts two fingers into your cunt. Beginning to pump them in and out at a fast pace.

He smirks as he watches your tits bounce as you whined and struggled to reach for his arm. Smirking widely as he teased, “if you want me to slow down so bad then kiss me.” Jiyan chuckled

He smirked as you try to lean down, pushing his fingers deeper into your wet slick. “UUNGH—! Fuck! Ji- Jiyan please-!” You beg, a loud gasp escaping your lips as he rolled his eyes. Picking up the pace and making your cum.

Sitting you up, he slipped his fingers out of your pussy. Bringing it up to your lips and shoving them inside your mouth. Forcefully grabbing your draw and moving your attention to the mirror

“Watch your little slit drip cum oh-so-slowly, Xīn'ài (treasure) soon that’ll be my cum. Right?” He chuckles, sliding his hand down to your cunt and carefully stuffing it back inside.

Picking your hips up off the mattress, he plunges his cock in and out of your cunt. the cool sensation on your cheek is a stark contrast to the burning heat that’s in betsween your legs. you feel your mind become hazy as you feel Jiyan’s cock throb inside you. 

“Fff-uck baby, you look so gorgeous. love looking at your cute face as i fuck you, don’t you?” He chuckles, bouncing your on his cock as he watches you whimper and moan on his dick.

“please… hurry. hurry! need you to cum ‘nside me… Make me cu-gnh! Again!!” You gasp, slamming yourself against his lap as you rut into his dick

“Come on.. you can take it baby. You’ll be good right?” his words only fuel you more and you rock your hips back and forth faster, desperate to reach both of your highs. his hands wander around your body, caressing every inch of your skin until he finds your tits. his fingers play with your nipples, pinching and twisting them until it has you gasping for more. your cunt clenches around his cock and you can feel every protruding vein as he throbs painfully inside you.

“t-too much… break… ‘m gonna breakkk aanh aahg ghiick gyaack! c-cock mmmgh uungh—! too much♡︎!” You cry, whimpering as he took your hips into his hands and began to fuck you on his dick.

“Come on! Cum for me! Cumcumcumcum! I’ll fill you up with my seed.” He chuckles, dropping you on his cock as you squirt on his cock. Him following quickly suit in your cunt.

The mixed cum splattering on the mirror and around the sheets. He chuckles as he looks at your blissed out state.

“We’re not quite done Xīn'ài (treasure).”

[youzicha]

Some quick impressions of translations of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.

I fell in love with Marie Borroff's translation just from reading the preface, which is very insightful (definitely do read it, whatever other translation you pick!) and also unusually useful for the reader. We don't crucially need a translator's thoughts about what the themes of a story are because we can read it ourselves first, but Borroff talks about the tone (elevated, ironic, playful?) and that is really useful, since it is so easily obscured by time and translation.

Borroff's biography is extremely impressive: before even starting the translation, she spent a decade of her professional life reconstructing the pronunciation and meter of each line and the provenance of each word. Unsurprisingly, the translation is excellent; by the usual standards (accuracy, fluency, transparency/"invisibility") it seems hard to improve on.

Simon Armitage's translation seems to consciously reject fluency and transparency, creating "choppiness" as a deliberate aesthetic effect. Consider for example the use of modern colloquial English here:

and in the other hand held the mother of all axes, a cruel piece of kit I kid you not: the head was an ell in length at least and forged in green steel with a gilt finish

"Piece of kit" and "I kid you not" date the translation to the last few decades, while the "ell" unit has not been used for 400 years. By dragging the reader back and forth in time like this, the translation draws attention to itself. But it is not only a matter of choice of words, we get a similar effect from the ways Armitage breaks up or enjambs lines:

Gawain […] so bore that badge on both his shawl and shield alike. A prince who talked the truth. A notable. A knight.

This was a single sentence in the original, which got "chopped up" into four, including a full stop in the middle of a line.

George B. Pace's translation is the subject of a very charming story somebody posted on tumblr. It is abridged (12k words, versus 21k in the original), and translated into modern-sounding English prose, but if you are interested in the plot rather than the poetic devices it seems like a reasonable approach. I mostly didn't miss the parts he cut, although I do wonder about his focus when he e.g. omits lines of dialogue between Gawain and the Lady but leaves in the decorative filler about the zephyr warming the lands.

I have no particular thought about Burton Raffel's translation, except for one interesting pitfall. He translates most of the poem into prose (although it is kept divided in lines), but the four rhyming lines at the end of the stanzas are translated more loosely in order to make them rhyme. In theory this makes sense: for a modern reader the rhymes and iambs are very salient while we are not very attuned to alliterative verse, so translating just the bob-and-wheel into verse preserves most of the poetic effect.

But in practice it doesn't work so well. First, Raffel just isn't that good at it: Boroff and Tolkien manage to make their translations rhyme while sticking closer to the sense. But more interestingly, the rhyming couplets obviously draw the attention of the reader, and the author uses them to highlight the most load-bearing words, which are often chosen to be nicely ambiguous. The tale is written in 'lel' letters, which could mean that it's true, or only that it is composed in valid alliterative verse. King Arthur waits 'stif'ly to hear a tale or see a wonder, which (says Borroff) could be a heroic "resolute" or an ironic "stubborn". The lady enters Gawain's chamber and banteringly offers him 'my cors', which could mean "myself" but of course literally means body. And what were they doing to that deer? Actually these lines are the parts where you need to be most careful about the meaning.

J.R.R. Tolkien's translation is interesting because he seems to try something different. While Borroff and Armitage try to approximate the effect the poem would have on a 15th century reader by translating into current English, Tolkien uses archaic syntax ("him" for "himself", "we come not" for "we don't come" etc) and archaic vocabulary (the book includes a glossary, which you need to use to understand the translation at all). I think the idea is to capture what it is like for a modern reader who knows Middle English to read the Middle English original, with the particular pleasures of puzzling through a text as a non-native speaker.

Reading this (and even more his translation of Pearl in the same volume) I was surprised by how skilled Tolkien was at verse—he carries over a lot of the formal aspects, and I think his version sounds the best.

[bakuhatsufallinlove]

since the general fanbase seems to find calebs translations questionable, is there any translators you'd recommend instead? (if you answered this before i couldnt find it, so sorry if its an FAQ)

The general fanbase does not speak Japanese, so first I would recommend you not take their opinion into account.

I am not trying to be combative, I’m serious. About 85% of the hatred for the official translator stems from things that have absolutely nothing to do with the quality of his work. 10% of the hatred claims to be about the quality of his work, but comes from people who do not actually speak Japanese and therefore have no place judging it. Only 5% of the negativity I've seen has any real merit as translation criticism.

For the record, I’m not going to address the source of that 85%, because the quality of a person’s character is objectively irrelevant to assessing whether their translations are accurate or effective. What you or I think about the official translator is of no importance. Shitty people can be good at their job. That’s just a fact.

The official translations are overall accurate, effective, and of high quality. Viz obviously has in-house standards for tone and aesthetic in translation; they have an existing “shonen” branding adapted for American audiences. It is about marketing. This is evident in all of their published works. Some people find the tone and aesthetic off-putting—this is totally understandable, I’m not particularly a fan myself.

Generally, the worst you tend to get with the official translations is somewhat weird or exaggerated characterizations and the occasional missed thematic callback. The worst you get with the fan translations that are popular is them being factually wrong at times—as in, their translator simply did not know the meaning of the words they tried to translate. It's not that mistakes never happen in the official, but the Viz translator is fluent in Japanese and translates as his full-time occupation. He works with Japanese fluidly and constantly. He knows what he’s doing. When fan translators falter, it is usually because they are clearly not fluent, and this is something they do out of passion or for fun in their free time.

I typically avoid criticizing the fan translations for this reason, despite their issues. I myself translate out of love and enjoyment; I don't want to harsh on anyone's good time or discourage fan activity. I bring this up only because many people put the fan translations on a pedestal while promoting scorn and distrust of the officials.

But you asked me for recommendations.

So, I will tell you what I would do if I were in your shoes: if I loved a series that was written in Spanish, I would read the official English translation. If someone told me some important things are glossed over in the official release, I would surely look into those—but only take the perspectives of Spanish speakers into account, because how are English speakers supposed to know what’s what? I would compare those perspectives (because there is no way everyone will have the same opinion) and see if there are any other translations, while looking to understand what the rationale is for the differences therein.

And then I would come to my own conclusions about the characters and the story, because in the end our relationship to media is personal. What the story means to me and what I think the creator was trying to do is fundamentally up to me to decide.

I grew up in the era of bootleg anime and manga with nigh-incomprehensible translations and official releases with butchered, thoughtless dubbing, released seven years after the series already ended. By comparison, what we have today—cheap or even free releases available simultaneously or within two weeks of the Japanese release—is fucking magnificent. it is the result of many people working incredibly hard all the time. I don't think we should take that for granted.

No translation will ever be perfect. Human beings are not perfect, we all have biases and our own interpretations and reactions to media. Our relationships to stories are personal. This includes translators.

I disagree with the official translator on a few things, particularly in regards to characterization. But I don’t think that ruins the official release, and I don’t think anyone should shun or scorn it on the whole. We should engage curiously and thoughtfully about why it is the way it is, and what else can be gleaned from the original text.

Having said all that, you actually inspired me to do a little series examining the wins and losses of the official release, so please look forward to that.

[kunajou]

.ılılılllıılılıllllıılılllıllı. 𝙱𝙰𝙱𝚈 𝙱𝙾𝚈 1:05 ───●────── -4:05 ↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺ ↪

» legend › dark [☠️] | smut [🔞] | fluff [☀] | angst [ ☁ ] | completed [✓] » m.list(s) › CHOSO・SUKUNA・SATORU・NANAMI・TOJI・MORE JJK MEN » cr. gege (manga photos) & @/cafekitsune for divider(s).

─── ONE-SHOT(S)

↳ NONE YET ⤿ STAY TUNED

─── SERIE(S)

↳ NONE YET ⤿ STAY TUNED

─── DRABBLES(S)

⤿ Wan' You So Bad  ╰› SYNOPSIS ⤿ choso wants you however he can have you. ⌜AU: ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP | R: 🔞⌟

─── HEADCANON(S)

⤿ Seeing Their Friends Girl Nude(s) » featuring Itadori Yuji ╰› SYNOPSIS ⤿ okay but accidents happen and well, they didn't mean to look at something that wasn't meant for them. it sort of just happened. ⌜AU: SLICE OF LIFE | R: 🔞⌟

⤿ activities with S/O's ╰› SYNOPSIS ⤿ jjk men favorite activities to do with their significant other (either before bed or just in general).   ⌜AU: SLICE OF LIFE | R: 🔞⌟

© KUNAJOU 2024 ➳ ALL RIGHTS RESERVED  PLEASE DO NOT Copy, Translate, Re-Upload, or Steal ANY of my work. ・thank you for reading! & remember: you nice, keep going.❤️ ・comment/reblogs(s) and like(s) are totally welcomed! › read more work here: masterlist ‹

[humbledragon669]

S1E3 – Hard Times Write Up P3 - Paris (1793) and St. James’s Park (1862)

Alright, first thing’s first for this scene. For those of you that haven’t seen the script, the translation of the executioner’s entrance speech is as follows:

Ah, the music of the blade, and the joy of the people. Beautiful, no? Now, let us inspect your neck.

Alas, nothing of hidden meaning there. Something I did pick up on when I was watching this scene back is that just after the executioner’s (Jean-Claude) entrance, an execution takes place offscreen. It’s talked about, and we are informed that the victim here was female. In what seems to be a really dark bit of humour here, it actually sounds like this is a botched execution. The audio for this scene is below - you’ll need to listen carefully as the script continues over the background soundtrack, but to me it sounds like we hear the falling of the blade, followed by a female scream that does not stop when we hear the thump of the guillotine hitting its target.

Jean-Claude even laments over the poor work that the executioner does, and that Aziraphale is lucky that he will not be executed by the inexperienced knave. I have a pretty dark sense of humour, but even I feel like I would rather believe the screams we can hear are of a spectator, perhaps a loved one of the condemned, distressed at the scene. *shudder*

Moving on to something a bit lighter, we have a reminder of the noise we should be associating with Crowley’s time freeze miracles – that little wobble board noise played over the miracle whoosh (not to mention the underlying tingly sort of noise that can be heard throughout the scene as the time freeze stays in place). Just why Aziraphale doesn’t realise that Jean-Claude has frozen until Crowley actually speaks is a mystery to me. Too caught up in his own impending administrative perils perhaps. What is less mysterious is how the angel feels about Crowley’s unannounced arrival in his cell.

There’s no denying that Aziraphale is delighted that Crowley has appeared – that little smile is pure reflex and he all but breathes his name. I’m sure some people will read it as relief as his friend showing up just when he needs help, but I am not one of them. The painfully obvious once over that he gives Crowley tells us everything we need to know about Aziraphale’s true feelings here. And then there’s that “good Lord” line – it’s not the only time we hear somebody refer to Crowley in this way. It’s an interesting choice of words for sure and if it wasn’t for the way that the angel is drooling looking at Crowley, who I should point out hasn’t exactly positioned himself in what one might call a demure pose, I’d say that he was trying to sound disdainful.

We’re treated to the first (chronologically speaking) mention of the book shop in this scene. There are a couple of other sources that fill in some gaps for us on this front – Neil himself confirmed that Aziraphale bought the land for the shop in the 1630s and the Script Book contains a deleted scene that shows the book shop would be opened in 1800. Seeing as it’s a feature of the series that will become so integral, it’s nice that we’re given a bit of its backstory.

We’re also given a bit of insight to Aziraphale’s insatiable appetite for human food in this scene. Whilst we as the audience have already been given some context around this, it’s only now we see just how strong his attachment to food is. After all, he abandoned his book shop opening plans and travelled to Paris at the height of a revolution that targeted the aristocracy whilst dressed head-to-toe in finery just to get some crepes. Crowley’s expression of disbelief when he finds out that this foolish errand has been driven by pastry-lust feels as though it embodies the thought process of everyone bearing witness to this conversation:

Aziraphale doesn’t appear to think his actions are out of order though. What’s interesting is that his attention is engaged not by the dressing-down he’s receiving, but by Crowley’s use of a particular phrase:

There’s an incredibly subtle eyebrow raise at Crowley’s use of the word “nibble” – it comes a split second before he talks about Aziraphale’s choice of clothing. It’s a real blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment, so I cut it and slowed it down a little to demonstrate:

As if the angel hadn’t given enough of a clue about how he’s feeling about Crowley’s presence. Honestly, he needs to tell his face to stop giving away his heart’s desires so obviously. Though I’m not sure how much of his heart is involved in that flirty little expression.

At this point we find out that Aziraphale has been reprimanded for performing too many frivolous miracles, to which Crowley responds that the angel is lucky he was in the area. This does raise an interesting question about Crowley always being around when Aziraphale most needs him.

There’s something quite knowing about this exchange – as if they know luck really didn’t have anything to do with it. I don’t think that they were in Paris together, or that Aziraphale even knew Crowley was in Paris - the bit of the conversation about the book shop opening and Crowley’s disbelief at the purpose of the trip is enough for me to believe Aziraphale genuinely didn’t know of the other’s proximity. I do however think that it’s unlikely this is the first time that Crowley has “conveniently” been in just the right place at the right time for Aziraphale, and that they both know there’s more at play than luck. My money’s on Crowley always knowing exactly where Aziraphale is, somehow managing to keep tabs on him in a non-creepy way, purely because he knows the angel has an uncanny knack for getting into trouble. For confirmation of his love of being Aziraphale’s knight in shining armour, see season 2, episode 5.

Right before we see the manacles miraculously fall off Aziraphale’s wrists, we can, if we’re really eagle-eyed, see another one of those micro-expressions that betray Aziraphale’s feelings. It’s off the back of Crowley’s indignant response that he has somehow been entirely responsible for the Reign of Terror currently occupying Paris. It’s minute, but it conveys so much to me – Aziraphale knows that Crowley isn’t really interested in causing anything so heinous and is basking in being reminded of that.

It’s worth noting the leagues of difference in Crowley’s reaction to being told “thank you for the rescue” and being called “nice” as we saw in episode 2. Here he simply (vehemently) tells the angel not to say “rescue”. No violence, no grabbing of lapels, no hissing in Aziraphale’s face. The words might be different, but the sentiment is most definitely the same, and yet the two reactions are light years apart. If I might be forgiven for referring to my own head canon for a moment, this actually makes sense. As a reminder, it’s my belief that Crowley and Aziraphale actually form a romantic relationship as of the day of Adam’s birth, some 200+ years in the future from Paris. This reaction we see from Crowley in the Bastille is a genuine and simple one, whereas (I believe) the wall slam at Tadfield Manor is the beginning of some sexual role play. It’s no wonder the two reactions are so different really. That said, I do not think Aziraphale isn’t playing some sort of role play game here – his insistence that he was unable to miracle himself out of the cell is rudely undermined when he performs a “frivolous miracle” just to change his clothes so that the two of them can go to lunch together. If Crowley’s preference for playing the hero was known to him, it suddenly makes sense why Aziraphale wouldn’t just miracle himself out of the cell, safe in the knowledge that Crowley would do it for him. He even defends his choice to miracle his own clothes to the demon, and it’s a pretty weak excuse.

I think it’s just a shame we don’t see Crowley’s face when he hears this, but what we do see is Aziraphale’s expression of resignation when he realises that he has to miracle his own change of clothes. It’s as if he knows the game has come to an end so now he has to stop the pretence of not being able to help himself. It’s charming really. What’s also interesting is that in switching clothes with Jean-Claude, he condemns the man to an almost instant death, yet he seems to have no qualms about the consequences of his actions in the slightest. He doesn’t even react to Crowley’s little dig that Jean-Claude was “asking for trouble” dressed in Aziraphale’s clothes.

The last exchange of this scene still delivers with subtext – it’s interesting that Crowley asks Aziraphale what’s for lunch whilst showing no preference whatsoever. He doesn’t even look affected when the angel declares joyfully that crepes are the first thing on his mind. Given that I believe Crowley to take much more pleasure in watching Aziraphale eat than eating himself, I think this question more likely means “what do I get to watch you eat for lunch?”. It’s a pleasant, light way to end this scene, which has had its fair share of dark humour squirreled away in its corners.

The first thing I noticed about this scene is that the placard announcing the date and location are different from all the other instances where this device is used. Firstly, both the location and date are on the same side of the sign. Secondly, this instance is the only one that doesn’t thrust itself upon the camera lens, instead being submerged in water. It stands out as being different, but I don’t know that there’s anything of meaning in it other than it’s used as a way to set the scene.

Speaking of setting the scene, we have another instance of David Arnold’s musical mastery with his treatment of the main theme for the soundtrack as we zoom in on Crowley and Aziraphale. The use of the harpsichord gives it a more Baroque feel, rather than being of the Romantic period that 1862 would actually fall into. To me it summons thoughts of Austen-era balls and olde-world courtships with their highly formal etiquette, all which would have taken place about 100 years prior to this scene, so I do find it interesting that it’s been chosen to orchestrate the theme in this way. Nevertheless, it’s a very pretty arrangement and definitely makes us feel that we’re still in England in a time when society had strict rules that needed to be adhered to.

Quick side note: the jacket Aziraphale is wearing in this scene appears to be the same one from the paintballing scene, which he says he has owned for over 180 years. This scene takes place approximately 155 years before the present day of this season, so even at this point he’s already owned that jacket for more than 25 years.

There’s a strange formality between the two of them in this scene, right from the start. Crowley doesn’t even look at Aziraphale as they’re talking to one another, staring stubbornly straight ahead.

Crowley opens the conversation with, what I think, is a really strange line:

What if it all goes wrong? We’ve got a lot in common, you and me…

It consists of two very different ideas that I just can’t seem to make have meaning when you put them together in one sentence. Not only that, I can’t even really make much sense out of the second part of the sentence – it just makes me want to utter the age-old phrase “and…?”. If anybody has any ideas on this one, I’m all ears.

This weirdly awkward meeting continues with Aziraphale’s belittling of Crowley from his first words, which he tries to shrug off, only to have the angel continue to make light of their companionship, claiming that the only thing their partnership is good for is to satisfy the agreement, making sure they “stay out of each other’s way”. This whole interaction just feels so out of character for the pair, particularly given that we’ve just seen them gleefully heading off to have lunch together not 30 seconds previously.

Crowley’s summation of his fall from Heaven here could be telling us a lot about his state of mind when he was still an angel – to me it sounds as if he’s saying that his mindset hasn’t actually shifted very far, and that it wasn’t a sharp sudden descent into his demonic state of being but a gradual (and willing) move. It’s a very different point of view from what we know Aziraphale holds: that there are only two states of being for ethereal beings – good or evil. It’s something we see a lot throughout the series – the comparison of the two opposing opinions on morality, along with the idea that Crowley is much happier in his “limbo” state than Aziraphale, who constantly fights against the notion that he is anything other than purely good.

Despite the fact that it’s painfully obvious that Crowley is really struggling with what he’s asking (there’s a little gulp before he mentions things going pear-shaped that says an awful lot, not to mention the attempts at deflection with his talk of ears), Aziraphale really isn’t listening to his friend in the slightest. Apart from the word “pears”. Surely Crowley should know by now that any use of food-related language is going to send the angel into fantasyland?

Aziraphale really proves that he hasn’t been listening at the point where he finally starts paying attention, though in an ironic twist he has to ask Crowley what he’s been talking about. The further ironic twist is that he starts listening at exactly the point that Crowley will only communicate his needs in writing (I’m not sure why it was necessary to write down the words “holy water” when they’re standing in broad daylight having a conversation out loud…). He’s clearly distressed at Crowley’s request though and his instant refusal to get him what he wants prompts the demon to look at him, albeit briefly, for the first time in this scene.

As little light side note here, I love how Crowley’s handwriting looks so childish on the slip of paper he hands to Aziraphale:

It feels so appropriate for his character that, even after 6000 years, he really has no interest in investing time to improve his writing skills. And what’s with the underline? Trying to convey how important he feels his request is? Whatever the reason, it just compounds the idea that this note was written with someone with the emotional IQ of an amoeba, which is far from the case.

We start to see how distressed Aziraphale is at what he thinks Crowley is asking for at this point.

He impassioned plea comes complete with a little gasping breath before he speaks that’s almost heartbreaking. What I find really interesting about the way he handles this situation is that his distress turns to anger very quickly. When he tells Crowley that he would be in trouble if their liaisons were ever discovered, I read that as him appealing to the demon to try and remind him that they are both at risk doing what they’re doing. Not only that, but there’s no way that he’s going to provide Crowley with an “easy” way out, which I suspect is his way of telling the demon that he doesn’t get to leave him behind. Pity he has to use a word that’s pretty aggravatory to try and hammer his point home – I think his choice would likely be driven by what Heaven would call their meetings, rather than how he sees them, but Crowley has already been told he can’t have what he’s asking for and is in no mood to allow Aziraphale any slip ups at this point.

That word clearly rubs Crowley up the wrong way (and rightly so I say, fancy trivialising 6000 years of companionship in as base a way as to call it “fraternising”). In his defence, Aziraphale does try to take it back, but it’s too late – they’re both too emotional charged at this point to see any sense. Crowley’s scathing response that he has plenty of other people he can “fraternise” with is perhaps not meant as a snipe to undermine their friendship further, but an angry declaration that whilst he might do that with others, it is not how he would choose to describe the interactions with the angel. If that is the subtext, Aziraphale misses it, seeing only the insinuation that Crowley is claiming he has plenty of people he can hang around with, making him less important.

Despite the seriousness of the subject matter driving the argument, we are once again leaving this location and time period with a bit of lightness.

My instinctive response to Aziraphale’s awkward storming off and disposal of Crowley’s note, along with Crowley’s snotty closing remark? A little groan followed by the disdainful muttering of “bloody children…”.

As always, comments, questions, discussions, all welcome!

[itsaspectrumcomic]

Hello, I discovered your work through the Telepathy comic. I'm 44, diagnosed 6 years ago, and it's wonderful to see someone putting words on what I'm feeling!

How OK would you be with me sharing your work with my family (just the telepathy comic for now)? I told them about my diagnosis as soon as I got it, but they don't really understand what it means. We're French, so I will need to translate the text, but I can do that. I would of course explain the work is not mine, and ask them not to share it to other people.

Hi! You're absolutely welcome to share my comics with your family, or anyone you'd like to talk about being autistic with! Just as long as you don't remove my social links from the bottom 🙂

(if you can direct them to follow any of the links, even better haha)

That's actually why I started making them in the first place - so I could explain to my family and friends what being autistic is like for me. I used the very first comic I posted here to tell my friends that I'd been diagnosed 🙂 it's really gratifying to know they're helping other people do the same!

[anemonelovesfiction]

11~ Wet Dream

Warnings ⚠️: Masturbation, wet dreams, reader getting caught

Not Proofread

MDNI 🔞

This didn’t turn out as good as I had hoped and kind of hope you guys like it anyway, but my mind is making me think this was absolute garbage…

Translation Station

Yawntutsyìp: Darling; Little Loved One

Syulang: Flower

Tawtute: Sky Person (Human)

Word Count: 2.2k

The comets of Pandora usually came around once every ten years. Today marked the day that Ri’nela, Nor, Teylan, and Aha’ri’s sister could finally join in a tradition their clan usually did by holding a gathering to witness the beauty of what today held.

The four of them had decided to invite the tawtute scientists for this occasion to watch it together as a group. A lot of them had sat scattered in their own little world but enough for one of us to stand near them in case they needed protecting from the wildlife that was active throughout the night.

I’d been stuck with one who decided to be off on her own, she was often quiet and off in her own world, never really bothering me or any of the others and I never knew what was going on in her mind, but she had managed to get comfortable enough to fall asleep.

A couple of her tawtute companions had come by, giggling to themselves as they begun drawing random and obscure objects, when I’d asked them what they were doing they stated it was a tradition they often did whenever someone fell asleep first during a gathering, it made no sense to me but I shrugged it off and believed if they hadn’t been doing anything to harm her, she would be fine.

The ironic thing is that all tawtute had fallen asleep and the comets were due to come within the next hour, I was tempted to draw on their masks in retaliation but believed it to be childish and probably something Y/n wasn’t willing to do either way, yet I wasn’t sure as I didn’t know her.

_________

The sights the forest of Pandora had to offer were mesmerizing indeed, but as always the sun being out caused a heat that made me feel sticky, I raised an arm to wipe the sweat off my brow- as I always did whenever I was outside too long- and come in contact with my own face. I pause for a second as it takes me some time to come to the realization that I had been outside and was able to touch my face, meaning I was outside in the ambience of Pandora without the protection of my mask, I take a few more seconds to collect my thoughts and decide that since I had been breathing well before, I should be fine, right?

I blink and suddenly find myself in the meeting room with Alma, Priya, So’lek, Teylan, Nor, Ri’nela, and Aha’ri’s sister, everyone seems to be in a great mood judging by the smiles plastered all over their faces, I can feel the smile tugging on my lips as well and feel like this victory couldn’t have been done without Aha’ri’s sister doing a bunch of the heavy lifting. I hear someone clearing their throat and find myself looking up toward So’lek, who happened to already be looking back at me and I could feel my face growing hotter the longer he looked at me.

It’s like we had a silent conversation as I knew he wanted me to follow him yet I have no idea what words had been shared between us. Whatever corridor we were currently walking in made me feel as though I was being tugged to follow him, his back moving in such a way that I knew he was walking slowly because of me. I could see his tanhì glowing on his backside as he continued to block whatever light was being offered by the poorly lit corridor, which is why I knew where to keep going as I followed him.

I blink and again am shifted into the middle of the forest at night, the sky glowing a brilliant shade of black as the stars littered amongst the sky lit up the world above me, the bioluminescent plants lighting the world below me, and So’lek standing with his back against a tree. More words are shared again and just like before I’m unsure of what words were spoken, I could just tell based off of a feeling, my heart beating faster and suddenly I can feel myself with my hands and knee’s on the forest floor just as his rough voice finally speaks words I can hear.

“Are you ready yawntutsyìp?” He asks in a heavy voice and all I could do was stay in silence, half of me tempted to agree with being ready to whatever it was he was proposing, and another part of me being scared, although I didn’t have time to figure anything out as my own voice had spoken toward him.

“Yes-“ A breathy moan passes my tongue and I can slightly feel a bit of pressure on my cunt, I hadn’t even realized I had been wet and ready for him until a minuscule breeze blew by and I could feel a coolness on my own thighs right as he pushes the tip in and I can feel myself stretching to accommodate to him.

“You are very tiny, tawtute.” He groans, sounding as though he was struggling to get those words out, I could feel more pressure at my entrance and could tell he was starting to push in deeper, a whine coming from me as I struggled to fit what he was barely pushing in.

“So’lek w-wait,” I nearly shouted as I could feel his movements falter to my requests, my eyes having shut as the pressure grew, I could feel him reaching down past my breast and my stomach and toward my cunt, collecting whatever bits of moisture he could and beginning to rub my clit lightly, sliding back out slowly and thrusting whatever bit of length he had back in.

“Is this better?” He asks and all I could do was let out a low moan, not even a proper answer, and I wasn’t even ashamed of it.

I had grown to like the way So’lek looked and could appreciate the little intricate patterns of his stripes and the way his tanhì were littered around his body as if precisely placed by the great mother herself. I had harbored these feelings for quite a while now but had never said anything in fear of my feelings not being reciprocated and being left heart broken, but at this very moment my heart- amongst other things- had felt full.

“Fuck, So’lek, go faster-“ I mumbled as the strokes on my clit were starting to feel dull and I was growing used to the length he had pushed inside of me, ready to take on more of whatever he had to offer, knowing he wasn’t pushed in to the hilt.

_________

“So’lek w-wait,”

My ears perk up at the sound of my name being mumbled from her lips, I turn my head to look at her to see if she had woken up, but her plump lips had been closed as she lied on her stomach, her head facing me, her eyes still closed. She must have been dreaming, but I wonder what she was seeing behind her eye lids as she had called out my name, curiosity gets the better of me as I sniff the air around her to ensure she was fine. Having had her straying further from her peers whenever she settled on this place meant I had to stray far as well to ensure she was safe.

“Hmmm,”

My ears perk up once more and wonder if she had been injured and was too weak to rouse from sleep, a part of me growing worried and wondering if one of our snakes had managed to sneak up and bite her, its venom spreading through her body as I sat idly by without taking care of the situation. I lean down closer and sniff the air around her, wondering if she was injured in any way, careful to not sniff too close to tickle her and wake her. My brows pinched together when I caught a light floral scent instead, having never smelled that whenever I’d walked past her, wondering why that scent had been emanating from her.

I see as she grinds her hips toward the ground and lets out another moan, my eyes widen at the action as I now realize the kind of dream she had been having, but considering she had spoken my name earlier meant I was involved with it. Had she been harboring feelings for me that I had been blind to?

I turn my head to look for Ri’nela who had been the closest Na’Vi to me but I still had to squint my eyes to get a good look at her. To my surprise she too had been lying down, her back facing me, and from the looks of it she had been breathing evenly which meant she had fallen asleep around the humans she was near and I fought the urge to roll my eyes.

“Fuck, So’lek-“ My head turns at the mention of my name and I couldn’t help but shamefully look at her pleasuring herself as she humped the ground below her.

“Go faster,” She mumbles her next words with a moan, her tiny hips moving faster and I couldn’t help but look back at Ri’nela to see her back was still toward me, asking the great mother for forgiveness as I turn for my back to face the tawtute before me, staring right at her and taking a breath before sliding my tewng over to the side.

_________

It hadn’t taken long for him to push his cock all the way in and I could feel as though I was full in a good way, the tip of his cock barely kissing the tip of my cervix as he thrusts in slowly, making sure I was comfortable with such a length. I started to feel minimal pressure building in my belly and bucked my hips back to meet his thrust feeling the pressure on my clit as he pushed against my nub harder.

“Oh my God-“

“God is not present here, just me.” He speaks while slamming into me and I couldn’t help but hite my lip and closed my eyes harshly, seeing stars as he pounded relentlessly, I felt my brows knit at an upright position as he continues to pleasure me and my moans starting to become unstoppable.

_________

“You sound like you’re close, syulang, do you want to come?” I asked as I huffed in her ear hearing a high pitched whine before she nods her head and I grin. I continued gliding my hand over my shaft at the rate of her actions and felt myself getting close as well.

“Use your words like the good girl you are,” I whispered in her ear, allowing myself to lick the shell of her ear and hearing another moan ripping through her beautiful pouty lips.

“Y-yes puh-please,” Her movements become more erratic as she digs her hips down to the floor and her nose crinkles lightly, puffs of air coming out rapidly and lightly dusting the inside of her mask with fog with every breath she takes.

“Come for me sweet girl,” I mumble as I feel my cock ready to blow, her gasps of air just before she came having sent me over the edge as rope after rope of my come leaks out of my abused cock, the tip had been a darker blue -almost purple- in color and I watch as her hips still, I bite my own lip and curse in Na’Vi, I’ve never felt that way before, especially with a tawtute.

I place my slowly softening cock back into my loincloth as I attempt to catch my breath, I look up to the sky to thank the great mother for this opportunity- and also to check if the comets have decided to make their appearance but haven’t seen anything- turning my head back down and freeze upon seeing her eyes wide open.

“Did I just-“ She pauses as she looks at me, her eyes crossing for a second before looking around her mask, the drawings probably becoming more visible to her in this state.

“What the fuck,” She whispers to herself and I stare in awe of her use of the language, never being one to have heard her cuss in the first place.

“To answer your question, you did.” I rip her out of her thoughts and watch as her focus returns to me, eyes widening as her pout returns.

“But I did too,” I respond honestly and watch as her eyes widen, finally lifting her head from the forest floor to look down and see the evidence I had yet to cover up, her eyes going toward my clothed member and quickly moving back up to meet mine, embarrassment filling her eyes.

“Did I talk out loud?” She questions quietly, body molding to sit with her legs crossed as she shyly stares at the floor, I can only place my hand underneath her chin and picked it up slightly to make her look back at me.

“You did, but I did not mind, I enjoyed myself as well.” I stated but she stays quiet and a thought flashes in my mind.

“Would you like to draw on your companions masks as well? I know where they hid the marker.” I offer and watch as her face shoots up quickly, a giant smile spreading on her lips as she nods enthusiastically.

[rabbittwinrithings]

An Announcement

(The announcement below is copied from my discord)

   Hey everyone! This announcement has been a long time coming, I’ve just been pretty busy these past months. This announcement will have some good news, but also, some bad news. 

   First off, the good news: 

   End of last year I graduated from college and a few months after I got a new job! I had to move to a whole new state and it’s been perhaps one of, if not the, best experience of my life. This job has been amazing. My new place has been amazing. And just my life in general has been amazing! I can’t remember the last time I’ve been so content in my life! Sometimes I’ll just start looking around and be struck with disbelief that things turned out so well for me. Basically, I got a really nice job in writing and I couldn’t be happier! 

   With this new job, it has also given me time to discover old and new hobbies such as writing my own new material, reading, and I’m getting back into playing/running Dnd! (And once I get my hands on my sewing machine next month you better bet I’m gonna start sewing again!! And get back into cosplaying!!!) 

   But with this all new amazingness comes with a down side. My new job offers little time in the terms of modding. By the time I’m done with work I’m usually exhausted. (this may also be health related which I’m trying to figure out, but we’ll see.) And on the weekends I find myself looking for new hobbies. 

   Let me rip the bandaid off real quick:

   For now, I will no longer be working on my mods. That doesn’t mean I hope nothing new comes out of them. I’m still hoping to make an announcement later that may open up *some* of my mods for fan made expansions (if users wish to do so,) but I’m still trying to get all that sorted out. There was a lot of update work being done, and I’m still figuring out what to do with it. 

   I also still love seeing mod patches like replacers, translations, and such (like always, just shoot me a message first so I know they’re coming out.) 

   This also doesn’t mean it’s forever over. One day, I may return, but for now, I’m stepping aside.

With that sad news said, I want to let all of you know what a ride all this has been! I first started modding because I wanted to find a creative writing outlet, then it turned into realizing I could make a portfolio for a future career with it, and then, finally, I realized how many people enjoyed my work. There were a lot of times where I self doubted whether or not I was a good writer, but seeing the overwhelming support over the years for my art has helped me get over that. My final years of college weren’t great, and modding and you all helped me through the vast majority of it. Because of all that, I want to thank each and every one of you for your support!

   Now, just because I’m stepping away from modding doesn’t mean I want to stop creating. Like I said, I still love writing in my free time, so maybe in the future I can post various personal writings I make here. 

   And with that, once I get everything figured out about the future of my mods, this server may be taking a shift in a new direction from being solely about Sidekicks of Tamriel, but just as a general Rabbitt Winri server and whatever personal projects I pursue in the future. (I will also be changing my various social media accounts accordingly too.)

   Once again, I cannot thank all of you enough for what you’ve done for me! None of this would have been possible without you!

[miyamiwu]

Forget everything I said before about c265 and Ness' development. I’m reading the official translation, and I noticed this:

How did I not notice Kaiser's expression here when I first read this chapter??? IT'S EVERYTHING

Compare it to how Isagi looked on the same page:

Isagi instantly looks on-guard, ready to react to Ness' next move. But Kaiser? He looks at a loss. Like he still hasn't quite processed why Ness was there.

But then Ness passes the ball and sends it flying between two opponents just to bring it all the way to him

And finally it dawns on Kaiser—“You damn puppy”—that Ness was there for him. Which he didn't expect because he had rejected Ness several times before this. (PO2 translated his words as "dog shit," and that's just being cruel. We follow the official tl!)

He positions to receive the pass—which means he is no longer rejecting Ness. But ah, the conditions were just not right. He couldn't score in that situation.

Also wanna point out the translation here:

Official tl says “Was it wrong?” but PO2 has it as “Why?” and god that small difference means so much!

“Was it wrong” implies Ness considering that he himself had made a mistake on his pass. “Why” simply sounds like Ness complaining on Kaiser ignoring his pass. So, he actually did not sound that dejected in this scene!

Okay, I can see hope on KaiNess now. Let’s just pray Ness won’t lash out on Kiyora for being the one to actually help Kaiser on his weapon. Please, just let them get along