#i took some liberties with the translation don't @me

[crabsnpersimmons]

Miss, it's time to go to bed. Are you on your phone again? Sleeping late will ruin your lovely skin. This is the final warning. If you don't fall asleep now, We are going to dance. - "잘자요 아가씨" by ASMRZ

found this song and i was possessed to draw @starriegalaxy's butler Eclipse dancing to it

(also i apologize in advance for my horrendous hiragana, hangul, and cursive)

Textless, effectless version under the cut!

[archiveikemen]

"Come Play With Us, Miss Fairytale Keeper" Story Event: Ring END

Alfons Sylvatica VS Ring Schwartz

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection; expect mistakes, grammatical errors, and some creative liberties. All original content and media used belongs to Cybird. Please support the game by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

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Alfons: Kate… between Ring and myself, who will you choose as your lover?

Ring: What will the other one do while the two are in the room?

Alfons: He’ll stand guard in the hallway and keep an eye out for suspicious activity. 

Ring: Got it.

Alfons: … Now, it's about time you’ve made your decision.

(It was hard to decide, but the one I chose is…)

Kate: I choose Ring.

Ring: Then I’ll stand guard in the hallw— 

Ring: … Huh? W-why me…? 

Kate: If the two of you were to really court me and I had to choose… 

Kate: I’d be charmed by you because you took care to wipe my mouth and show genuine concern for me…

This mission wasn’t particularly challenging, so it wouldn't matter which of them I chose.

That’s why I decided to choose based on who I would want as my lover. 

Ring: I- I see… I’m glad. Thanks. 

Ring wore a shy smile, looking slightly embarrassed after hearing my reason. 

Alfons: Ahh… this somewhat feels like I’m being cleansed by this pure light. 

Kate: I think a little bit of cleansing is good for you, Alfons. 

Alfons: That was a joke. … Well then, I leave it to you two to complete the rest of the mission. 

…

Afterwards, Ring and I went into a room next to the one our target had chosen. 

Kate: Alfons will knock on our door when the target enters their room, so we’ll just have to wait till then.  

Ring: Oh, okay…

Kate: … We might get tired from standing, why don’t we sit down while waiting?

When I called out to Ring who was frozen stiff as the door, he came over and awkwardly sat down on a chair. 

Kate: Ring, are you perhaps… nervous?

Ring: Yeah… 

Ring: Um… can you hear me out for a bit? 

Kate: Of course! Please be casual with me.

Ring: … There's one thing I’ve been lying about to you guys. 

Kate: Lying…? 

Ring: In the first place, I don’t have the right to blame Alfons for withholding information. 

Ring: Remember what I said in the carriage on our way here? The stuff about me “having experience”.

Ring: Truth is, I don't have much experience with women…

(I… kind of had a feeling that was the case.)

Ring would overreact towards me and his face often turned bright red, so it was hard not to figure it out. 

(... Alfons probably realised it too and was just messing with him.) 

Since we were already aware of it, his lie didn't exactly count as one; so I didn't think it was anything to be concerned about.

— However, Ring’s confession that sounded like repentance didn't end there. 

Ring: No, it’s not that I don't have much experience…

Ring: I don't have any experience at all…

(... Huh?)

I was left speechless upon hearing the shocking truth from Ring who had turned beet red. 

Kate: U-Uhh… is that true? But I think you’re attractive both on the outside and inside… 

Although I could tell from his behaviour that he didn't interact much with women, it was hard to believe he had completely no experience with them. 

Ring: You don't have to console me. Unlike my twin brother Nica, I’m not thoughtful and have a poor attitude… I’m not popular. 

(Don't tell me… he thinks he’s unpopular just because his brother is…?) 

Ring: That's why… even though I know this is a mission assigned by Dari…

Ring: Being alone with you in a room meant for obscene activities makes me feel awkward… and nervous.

Ring: … Although you chose me, I’m sorry for lying to you.

Ring apologised politely.

Kate: … Please don't worry about it. Your lie didn't hurt anyone.

Kate: Alfons withholding information from us was way worse.

Ring: You’re… so kind. I feel like a little weight got lifted off my chest.

Ring let out a small sigh, finally loosening up.

Just then, there was a knock on the door.

Kate: That’s the signal.

Ring: Let's get to work.

We took a stethoscope out of the bag we brought with us and placed it against the wall.

The wall wasn't thick, so the conversation happening next door could be heard clearly through the stethoscope. 

And so the two of us eavesdropped on the conversation next door together—.

Kate: We got the exact time and place for their next dealing! 

Ring: Yeah. I’m glad we did it without any issues. 

Ring: Still… I learned a lot today. Especially from Alfons. 

Ring: If we didn't have that guy with us, we wouldn't have been able to complete today’s mission. 

Ring: I think I’m starting to understand why Dari told me to come along and learn. 

Kate: … You’re right.

Despite Alfons’ problematic behaviour, there was no doubting his capabilities.

Ring: I’m not saying I need to be like Alfons… but I want to become stronger. 

Ring: … That way, I can be more useful to Dari and Nica. 

Kate: I’m sure you’ll become the kind of person you want to be if you continue working hard. 

Kate: I’m walking on my own path too. Let’s do our best together! 

Ring responded with a soft smile.

Seeing his determination to become who he wanted to be gave me the encouragement I needed as well. 

Ring: … There's that’s kind of been on my mind for a while.

Ring: If someday I were to fall in love… I hope it's with someone like you.

Ring: Someone who’s optimistic and kindly gives me an encouraging push from behind. 

His words that sounded like a confession of love made my face turn red. When he noticed it, his face turned bright red too. 

Ring: Oh!! S-sorry… um, there's no deep meaning behind that…!

Ring: I was just… unintentionally stating what's on my mind.

Kate: I-it’s alright. I understand! 

Both of us got flustered, it felt like we still haven't organised ourselves even though the mission was over. 

However, that relaxed atmosphere was… a little enjoyable. 

Kate: Alfons must be waiting for us, shall we head back?

Ring: … That guy might be more interested in hitting on women outside than obediently standing guard in the hallway. 

When I gave him a wry smile, unable to deny that statement, Ring suddenly gasped.

Ring: … Wait.

Ring grabbed a stethoscope and placed it against the wall. I quickly did the same and listened to the sounds coming from the next room. 

Woman’s Voice Next Door: … Doesn’t the room next door sound unusually quiet? Is it really occupied? 

Woman’s Voice Next Door: Speaking of which, I’ve been feeling oddly suspicious about the things around me lately. The police haven't caught on yet, have they? 

Man’s Voice Next Door: I bribed the police, so I don't think they’ll be a problem. But the quietness of the room next door does bother me.

Man’s Voice Next Door: I think it's better to find out who’s using it. 

Kate: W-what do we do? They got suspicious! 

Ring; If we don’t deal with this well, the information we obtained today will be useless…

Kate: Then… let’s do this! We’ll pretend to be engaging in something obscene! 

[sithbvcky]

.01: FRANKENSTEIN

As the adopted daughter of Tony Stark, your role becomes even more twisted and entangled when you meet and fall in love with one James Barnes. Unbeknownst to you, your world is about to flip upside down. Bucky x Stark!Reader Word Count: 2,466 *this was an anon request* A/N: I decided to make this a mini series and I hope you don't mind that I took some creative liberty with the concept!

Since you discovered you were adopted, you took it upon yourself to try and discover who you really were. You didn’t hold it against your father, keeping your adoption secret from you for so long. When your powers first appeared, that should’ve been your first clue that you were different. First it was the voices in your head, hearing conversations from buildings across the street. Then the telekinesis made itself known, accidentally throwing and breaking objects in fits of anger. As you grew, you felt more and more volatile. That at any moment you could burst. So you left. Telling your father you were going to find your birth mother. In typical Stark fashion, he sent you all the intel he could gather on who she was. 

“I’m sorry I lied.” He said, giving you a hug. 

“I understand. I’ll be in touch.” You said. 

And with that, you boarded the next plane to Bucharest. Romania was the last known location of your birth mother. That was all Tony could dig up, everything else on the woman appeared to be lost to time. With your backpack and a whole lot of guts, you stepped off the plane and went to where she was last seen. 

An old apartment building, badly in need of some repairs but still rather charming. You went over the basic Romanian in your head, only what you needed to get by. The woman at the front desk looked you up and down, 

“Excuse me, I am looking for someone who used to live here, Mariana was her name.” You spoke in very broken Romanian. The woman stared at you with squinted eyes. 

“I’m sorry my Romanian is bad, but please I just need to know where she is.” You tried again, holding up the copy of the address and the name that Tony had provided you. 

“No english.” The woman grumbled, going back to her administrative duties. 

“Please, I need your help. I have to find her.” You pleaded, the woman waved her hands to dismiss you. 

"Ma’am, she is looking for someone that lived here.” A man’s voice speaking perfect Romanian startled you. You turned around to see who it was and was struck by his appearance. Tall, handsome with clear blue eyes and long brown hair. You noticed he was wearing gloves and carrying a plastic bag full of fresh plums. The woman responded to him in the same grumpy tone, 

“She’s asking the name of the woman you’re looking for.” The man looked at you and you felt yourself dumbfounded. Clearing your throat you answered, 

“Uh, her name was Mariana she used to live here. I just want to know where she went.” You answered, cursing yourself from being so easily distracted by an attractive man. You watched him as he translated your words to the woman who grumbled something back to him. 

“She said no one by that name has lived here for at least three years.” He said, and you sighed. 

“Does she know where she went?” You asked and the man translated. The woman muttered something to him before turning around to retreat into her office. The man sighed and turned to you, 

“I’m sorry, she said she doesn’t know.” 

You ran an exasperated hand through your hair and folded the copy of the address back up and slid it into your backpack. 

“Thanks for the help.” You waved, adjusting the straps of the backpack and moving to walk back out of the building. You were almost out the door when the man called to you, 

“Who is it you’re looking for, exactly?” He asked, “I-if you don’t mind me asking.” He added as he fidgeted with his fingers. 

“Uh, she’s my birth mother and this was the last place she was.” You answered. The man nodded, 

“What are you going to do now?” He inquired. 

“I guess start back at square one. Try to see the city while I’m here.” You shrugged and he nodded again. 

“Well, thanks again for the translating.” You turned and walked out of the building, before you could get halfway down the side walk, you heard the man call out. 

“Hey, do you have a place to stay?” He asked, jogging up to you. 

“No, but I’m sure I can find a hotel or something.” You said. 

“Don’t worry about it, I got her to spare a room for you if you wanted it. No one really lives in this old building anyways.” He offered, with a flash of a smirk. 

“Except you.” You teased, and he looked down at his feet bashfully. 

“Look, I can help you find your mother, if you want.” He stated, taking you off guard. “I’m sort of good at finding people.” 

“What are you like a private detective or something?” You joked. 

“Something like that. Only if you want my help.” 

You paused for a moment to think. A man you don’t know was offering his services to help you find your birth mother, the same man who stepped in and helped you with your broken Romanian. The smarter part of you would’ve turned and run but you were desperate. And, if things turned out bad you did have an arsenal at your disposal. 

“Can you teach me any Romanian?” You asked with a smile and he flashed one of his own. 

“Sure.” 

The woman gave you a key to a room just down the hall from the man. He walked you to your door, 

“Thanks again, uh’ You pointed at him, 

“Ah, James you can call me James.” 

You nodded, 

“Thanks James, I’m Y/N.” 

“Anytime, Y/N. Get some rest, I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that he walked off to his room and you unlocked yours. It was small and nothing compared to the place you had back in New York thanks to your father. But it was cozy and you didn’t mind the intimacy that came with it. 

That night, you were plagued with a horrific nightmare. Faces you knew well and some you only recognized, tearing each other apart. So much violence, friends turned on each other. Your father lying on the ground covered in blood. When you awoke, your room was trashed. As if someone had come in and tore through the place but nothing was missing. Then it dawned on you, your powers. Once they seemed to be only be triggered by anger but now, perhaps that nightmare caused you to have an episode while you were unconscious. God. You hoped no one heard you and that the damage remained contained to your room. 

When you were dressed, you stepped out of your room to see James doing the same. He flashed a smile as he walked towards you. 

“I was on my way to get coffee, if you want to join me.” He offered. He showed no sign of knowing what happened last night, and there seemed to be no damage anywhere else that you could see. 

“Sure, that sounds great actually.” 

The coffee shop was only a few blocks down from the apartment building. James bought you both coffee which you insisted he didn’t have to. Outside, you found a quiet place to sit down away from the other patrons. 

“Did you sleep well?” He asked. 

“What?” You looked at him with surprise, did he hear you after all?

“I just meant it’s a new place and I know sometimes it can be hard to sleep.” He assured, seeing he’d caused you some sort of unease. You shook your head, 

“Oh, uh, yeah I slept fine. Thanks.” You took a sip of your latte and cursed your paranoia. A moment of silence passed between you. 

“So, what are you doing out here?” You asked, 

“Just traveling, seeing Europe.” He answered somewhat nervously. You don’t know why but it felt like he was hiding something. Which to be fair you couldn’t judge since you were doing the same. 

“Where are you from? You speak perfect Romanian but I just can’t shake the feeling that you’re American like me.” You continued and James smirked, 

“You got me. I was born in Brooklyn.” He admitted. 

“I knew it.” You chuckled, taking another sip of coffee. 

“And you? Where are you from?” He asked. 

“Manhattan. At least that’s where I spent a lot of my life.” You answered and he nodded. 

“Right. Do you know why you’re mother would’ve been here?” He wondered. You shrugged, 

“No idea. There’s no record of her except for that address, everything else seems to have been lost.”

“Did you ever think maybe it was destroyed on purpose?” James asked, and you blinked in surprise. You hadn’t even considered the idea that someone had purposely destroyed all records of your mothers existence. 

“No, I hadn’t thought of that. I’m not sure why someone would.” You said, but you knew exactly why. If you were as powerful as you are now you could only imagine she was just as powerful if not more. But who would do such a thing? 

“Believe me, people do things for reasons you may never understand.” James said. You nodded, he was right after all. But even if you might never understand why, you needed to know who. 

“Is there anything else you know about her? Anything at all.” You shook your head, 

“Not much, my father mentioned she might’ve been on the run but he wasn’t sure from what or where.” 

“Is he your birth father or?” James wondered. 

“No, he adopted me when I was three. I didn’t know any better than so I thought he was my real father. He acted like it. I wish he was.” You admitted with sigh. James nodded. 

“Well, knowing she might’ve been on the run is a good lead. I know some places she might’ve gone.” 

“You’ve been on the run?” You asked, bringing your cup of coffee up to your lips.

“Maybe once or twice.” He huffed. 

“Thanks again, for all of your help. You don’t even know me but it really means a lot. I owe you.” You admitted and James pursed his lips into a small smile. 

“You’re company is payment enough.” 

The blush crept up on your cheeks no matter how much you tried to hide it. You finished your coffee and headed James walked you back to the apartment, saying he was going to investigate one of those places. You asked to come along but he insisted it wasn’t the type of place you would want to be. 

Later that evening, you heard a soft knock on your door. Looking through the small peep hole you saw James waiting outside patiently. For a moment you studied his features, the way he looked around him like he was expecting someone to appear. “I hope she’s not asleep.” You hadn’t meant to, but sometimes unintentionally you could hear others thoughts. Even though you normally would try to block them out, you were terribly curious about this man. And something in you knew he was more than he seemed. “Don’t mess up, Bucky. Maybe this is the only chance you got at normalcy.” 

You opened the door and his eyes brightened, 

“Uh, hi. Hope I didn’t disturb you.” He said awkwardly. 

“No, I was just lost in thought, how did it go?” You asked. Putting that mental block back so more of his thoughts would creep through. You stepped aside to allow him entrance into your apartment, 

“Uh, not bad.” He hesitated a moment before taking the cue and entering. 

“Did you find something?” You asked eagerly.

“Kind of, someone there had seen someone named Mariana there a while back.” James answered. 

“What else did they say about her?” 

“That she seemed paranoid, like someone was after her and if she stopped too long she’d be found.” He said. 

“Did she ever mention who? Or what?” You inquired, gesturing for him to take a seatr at the small kitchen table. James shook his head and sat down, 

“They didn’t know who was coming after her. However.” James paused as you sat down across from him, anticipating his next words. 

“They did say a group of men, like bounty hunters, came in asking about her not long after she left.” He finished and you took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

“That would make sense why her records were destroyed, someone doesn’t want her to be found.” You surmised. 

“Y/N.” James hesitated before he spoke again. “Are you sure you don’t know any reason why someone would try to erase her?” 

You did know. It wasn’t a certain answer but it was the most logical one. But should you tell him? Does he deserve to know the truth of who you are? How you struggle daily to keep your powers under control. How you felt like a ticking time bomb waiting to explode. 

“Y/N?” He asked again and you snapped yourself back out of your thoughts. Looking into his eyes, you saw something you hadn’t seen before. Past the tiredness you saw pain, intense pain. And do you decided to tell the truth, 

“I haven’t been completely honest with you.” You started, your eyes shifting to your hands fidgeting on the table. 

“When I was little, something happened to me. I could start hearing peoples thoughts, voices in my head fighting for dominance.” You paused, looking up to see James watching you intently but you didn’t sense any judgement. 

“Then I started being able to move things without touching them. I’d broken a lot of glass and antiques on accident. As I grew I was able to get it under control a little better but sometimes when I’m unconscious or angry I can’t keep it at bay. It’s like a monster inside me at all times just waiting to be let out.” You finished, still nervously fidgeting with your fingers as you waited for him to leave or curse at you for being a mutant and hiding the danger. Instead, he took took the glove on his left hand off, revealing a gleaming metal hand. 

“I know what that feels like. To feel like a monster, like theres someone else living inside you.” His voice trembled slightly as he flexed the metal fingers. You reached out to place your hand on his, the cool metal stinging your warm hand. He looked at you with surprise, no one had held that hand. That hand had brought nothing but pain and suffering. But he didn’t pull away from your touch,

“I’m sorry.” You said, moving your hand back. James shook his head, 

“Don’t be sorry. One day, I’ll tell you about how I got it.”

“I’m glad I met you, James.” You smiled solemnly. 

“I’m glad I met you.” 

[penmansparadise]

Tommy Shelby ~ Dust in the Wind

*I DON'T OWN THIS GIF* *CREDIT TO GIF OWNER*

*I do not give anyone permission to repost my work in any way (translations included)*

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: Discusses infant loss/stillborn, ANGST, mild language, possibly ooc Tommy

a/n: Alright, well, it has been quite some time since I've posted on this site. First, let me get a few things out. 1) This is the most self-indulgent piece I have ever written, so if you don't want to read it, please just keep on scrolling. 2) This does not mean that I am ready to start taking requests again or that I will be regularly writing again. As stated before, this is a very self-indulgent piece because I just experienced the loss of my daughter, who was born prematurely. It has completely wrecked me, and I have just finally decided to start writing again. I am trying to navigate my loss and thought maybe writing would help. It did, and although this piece is a little darker than I usually write, it was therapeutic, and I wanted to share it because I am proud of my work. I did write it as a reader insert, but if you all read it and think it would be better as an OC story, I'll change it. Anyway, this is the first time I've ever written for Tommy, so please forgive the potential out-of-character actions he has in this story. Also, it has been a bit since I watched season 3 so forgive any mistakes. I took some liberties with the story by adding different children for Tommy and Y/N and some of the things that happened in the show. Well, I hope you enjoy this story, and would really like to know what you all think.

§

Y/N was no stranger to death.  It was Small Heath, for goodness’ sake.  Death practically ran in the water.  Being deeply entrenched in the Shelby family since she was a young girl only made her acquaintance with death’s steely grip all that much closer.  She had been to more than enough funerals in her 29 years of living.  She was present at the cemetery when her father finally drank himself into his grave, she was there to mourn when consumption took her mother, and she showed up to support Ada when they buried Freddie.  Y/N was always there when any of the Peaky boys were killed in the line of action, and she even showed up for her elderly childhood neighbor’s funeral.  But this time, it was different.  She wasn’t gathered in the woods on the outskirts of Small Heath to mourn for someone else.  There wasn’t a stranger tucked away in the wagon standing in front of her.  The Shelbys weren’t gathered to bid farewell to a distant relative or friend.  The Lees weren’t generously providing this funeral for a price.  No, the whole Shelby and Lee families were there for her and Tommy this time.

            The heat from the flames washed over Y/N’s face, making her sweat a little, but she didn’t move.  She wanted to be as close as she could possibly be.  If she had it her way, she would have jumped into the wagon and let the flames swallow her whole, but Tommy’s hand tightly gripping hers anchored her to the ground.  It had only been a few days.  It couldn’t have been more than four, but with how time was moving, it felt like a lifetime had passed.  The flames roared on, and Tommy squeezed her hand a little tighter, causing Y/N’s throat to tighten.  She swallowed down the sadness trying to claw its way out of her.  Y/N wasn’t going to break down in front of all these people.  She didn’t want to cry at all, for that matter.  It felt like it had been an endless stream of tears, and Y/N was done.  If only her aching heart would catch the memo.  Y/N’s eyes traveled the length of the flames until they landed on the little plaque one of the Lee boys carved for the wagon.  “Lily Eleanora Shelby,” it read, and suddenly, the sadness returned with a vengeance.  Y/N shut her eyes, and the events that led to this day played in her head.  She was supposed to be happy.  She was supposed to be full of unadulterated joy.  She was supposed to be cradling her newborn baby girl.  But she wasn’t.  Instead, she held onto her husband’s hand like a lifeline as she watched her daughter’s wagon burn.  One day.  That’s all it took to completely destroy her.

            Even as she stood there, watching the flames devour her daughter’s wagon, she still recounted everything she did four days ago, trying to figure out what could have possibly led to this result.  Four days ago, she was a cheery 29-week pregnant woman.  A stay-at-home mom who, with the help of their maid Frances, cared for her and Tommy’s three-year-old son, Benjamin.  That day had started like any other.  Tommy was already out, and she could hear Frances chasing Ben around his room.  The little boy’s giggles echoed through the house, and she remembers smiling as she slid a hand over her round tummy.  Y/N couldn’t wait for Ben to be a big brother.  She got ready like any other day and eventually made her way to her son, who welcomed her presence with a hug and a kiss.  The little boy rubbed her tummy, planted a chaste kiss to her navel, and smiled at her. 

            “I just wanted to let my little brother or sister know that I love them too, Mommy,” he had said, causing Y/N’s heart to clench.  Even at three, he was a charmer, just like his father.  She knelt to be at eye level with her son and lifted her hand to cradle his face.

            “You’re going to be a wonderful big brother; do you know that?”

            “Of course I will be, Mommy.  I’ve been practicing sharing my toys with Frances and making sure I listen real good to you and daddy.”  He said, standing up straighter to exhibit his full height.  “Frances says I need to be a good example for the new baby, or else Santa won’t bring me any presents this year for Christmas.  How outrageous is that, Mommy!?”

            Y/N stifled a laugh before brushing Ben’s hair back and looking up to see Frances smirking from her spot by Ben’s block tower. 

“I’m sure Santa won’t forget about you this year, honey.”  She told her son.  The boy gave her a toothy grin before trotting off to continue playing with his blocks. 

Y/N returned to her feet and watched Ben for another minute before retreating to the new nursery.  It was already put together, and she often found herself hiding away in that room.  She glided her hand over the bassinet and let the soft fabric tickle her palm.  The walls were already decorated with paintings of horses, some of which came from Ben, who insisted that his younger sibling have them.  She sat on the rocking chair and gently rubbed her hands over her stomach, earning a little kick from her unborn child.  A soft laugh fell from her lips as she looked down at her growing bump.

“Sorry to disturb you, love.”  She whispered, her hands still rubbing slow circles.  “Mommy just wanted to let you know she loves you very much.  And so does your big brother, who is very excited to meet you.”

Another kick came.

“You’re excited to meet him, too?  I’ll have to let him know.”

“Daddy loves you too, just in case Mommy forgot to mention that.”  Tommy’s voice came from the doorway, causing Y/N to look up.  He gave her a full smile, the one he reserved only for her and their son, and it fell over her like a warm blanket.

“Mommy was just about to get there.  Had daddy not interrupted her,” she said.  Tommy hummed in response as he floated across the room to kneel before her.  He looked up at Y/N through his lashes and said, “Sure you were,” before removing her hands and planting a soft kiss where they had just lay.

“Daddy can’t wait to meet you,” he whispered against her stomach, his warm breath radiating throughout her body.  Tommy looked up at Y/N before standing and pressing his lips to hers.  When he pulled away, a smile matching his spread across her face.  She was beaming.  She had dreamt of being in this position for many years as a teenager, and now it was real.  Thomas Shelby was hovering over her very pregnant figure in their unborn second child’s nursery.  Their lively three-year-old son’s muffled laughter ricocheted off the hallway walls.  It was everything she ever wanted, and she was so happy.

“What’s that look for?”  Tommy asked, pulling her out of her thoughts.

“Nothing,” she hummed, gaining a skeptical eyebrow raise from her husband.  “I just love you.  That’s all.”

Tommy nestled his face into the crook of her neck, peppering kisses along the exposed skin.  Then he pulled back, looked into her eye, and said, “I love you more than you know, Y/N.”

He gave her one more swift kiss before standing and sauntering out of the room with a smirk.  The rest of the day went by like any day usually went.  She sat around and read, played with Ben, ate lunch at 1100, put Ben down for a nap at 1230, and then went back to reading.  Tommy was in and out, balancing work from home and the office.  She could tell that day was extra tiring from how he sighed every time he left the house.  It was after Tommy left for the last time of the day that Y/N got the idea to wander down to the kitchen.  When she entered, the cooks were hard at work peeling and slicing vegetables.

“Good evening, Mrs. Shelby,” the head chef began, “is there anything we can do for you, ma’am?”

Y/N clasped her hands behind her back as she rocked back and forth on her heels like a guilty toddler.  “Um,” she said, “actually, yes, there is.”  She stepped into the kitchen and moved her hands to rest on her stomach.  “I was thinking that maybe tonight you and the rest of the staff could take the evening off and allow me to cook dinner.”

The head chef’s eyes widened at her statement.  Everyone else stilled for a brief moment, waiting for him to speak.  “Oh,” he stammered, “b-but, Mrs. Shelby, and please forgive me if I am overstepping, but shouldn’t you be resting instead of cooking?”  His eyes dipped down to her protruding abdomen before landing back on her face. 

“Resting?  I rest all day.  Really,” Y/N said, waving the chef’s comment off, “it would be nothing.  I actually miss being in the kitchen.  It’ll be nice.  Therapeutic.”  She couldn’t miss the wide-eyed stares from everyone in the room, but she chose to ignore them.  When they didn’t move to leave, she stepped forward, placed a gentle hand on the head chef’s back, and began leading him out of the kitchen. 

“Trust me,” she said, “I’ll be fine.  Thank you for your concern, though.”

Once she ushered the staff out, she began working on dinner.  It had been a long time since she cooked, but it came back to her like riding a bicycle.  She couldn’t escape the excitement that bubbled inside of her as she fell into a groove preparing dinner for her family again.  She boiled the potatoes the staff had peeled, sauteed the peppers and onions, and braised the beef that was in the refrigerator.  About an hour into cooking, a dull pain emanated from her lower back and into her hips.  The dull pain slowly morphed into a pressure that she just assumed was normal 29-week pregnancy symptoms.  It’s just the baby getting comfortable.  The baby is just moving around and pressing a little harder than usual on my cervix.  She ignored the feelings and finished cooking before asking the kitchen staff for help to bring the meal into the dining room.  Once the table was set, Frances went and fetched her boys, alerting them that not only had Y/N cooked dinner, but she had also served it.  She greeted the boys in the doorway of the dining room and gave each a kiss before they all sat to eat.  That pain returned in her lower back and hips, making it hard to get comfortable in her seat.  She let out a low groan of discomfort, and Tommy placed his hand over hers to gain her attention.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his eyebrows knitted together.  She swallowed another groan that threatened to come out and nodded with a strained smile.  Y/N could tell that her weak answer did nothing to reassure Tommy, but he didn’t press her. 

“How do you like the meal?”  She asked, doing her best to not sound strained against the constant pressure she felt pulsing between her legs.

Before Tommy could answer, Ben nodded with enthusiasm and stuffed a heaping scoop of mashed potatoes into his mouth.  “I love it, Mommy!  This is the best dinner I’ve ever had,” he said through his mouthful of food. 

Y/N smiled, but it must have looked more like a grimace because this time, Tommy stood up and moved to her side.  “Y/N,” he said, placing his hands on her shoulders, “are you sure you’re okay?  Should I have Frances phone the doctor?” 

Y/N grabbed his hand and squeezed it as she looked up to her husband.  “I’m fine, darling.  I promise.  Let’s just finish dinner.”  She pulled his hand to her mouth and pressed a kiss to his knuckles.  Then, using her head, she motioned for Tommy to sit again.  He stared at her for another moment, the line on his forehead deepening, before sighing and retaking his seat.  She kept her discomfort under wraps for the remainder of dinner because Tommy didn’t mention anything until after they had put Ben down for the night and were about to crawl into bed.  The pressure and pain had only grown in that short time, and she was beginning to get nervous.  She was sitting on the edge of their bed, eyes shut, and taking some deep breaths when Tommy’s hands landed on her thighs.  She could feel him kneeling between her legs, but she didn’t open her eyes.  She didn’t want to admit that her anxiety was consuming her or that the pain and pressure had turned into abdominal cramps.  It wasn’t until she suddenly felt the bed beneath her sopping wet that she looked at Tommy.  He looked down and saw the fluid dripping from her nightgown and their duvet before his gaze landed on her.  She could see his mouth moving, but his voice was drowned out by her rapidly beating heart.  Something is wrong.  She thought.  This shouldn’t be happening.  I’m too early.  Tommy pushed away the hair that had begun sticking to her sweaty forehead, and then ran out of the room.  His voice was distant, but she could have sworn he said something about calling Polly and Ada.  She wasn’t sure because all she could focus on was the sharp pain that was puncturing her abdomen and the immense pressure building between her legs.  Before she could comprehend what was happening, Tommy scooped her up and lay her on their bed.  What about the sheets?  I’m going to ruin the bed. 

She must have said those thoughts aloud because Tommy quickly said, “Don’t worry about the bed, love.  We’ll get another one if we have to.”  The pain was only getting worse, and she had to shut her eyes and bite her tongue to prevent a groan from escaping.  She didn’t know how much time had passed before Polly and Ada came rushing into the room, shoving Tommy into the hallway.  When it was just the three of them, Y/N finally let out a guttural moan.  She didn’t remember this much pain when she gave birth to Ben.  Something is wrong.  Something is not right.  Those words chanted in her head like a mantra.  Polly set her up on her bed while Ada used a wet towel to wipe away the sweat beading on her face.

“Just breathe, Y/N,” Polly chirped soothingly in her ear. “Ada and I are here.  We’re going to take care of you.”

Anxiety coursed through her veins and unfurled in her gut when the pressure between her legs began to increase.  She tried to cross her legs and prevent the inevitable from happening, but Polly and Ada wouldn’t let her.  Tears of pain and fear streamed down her cheeks.  She wanted to scream at them to stop and let her try to stop this urge to push.  But the pain and pressure were too much, and the only sound that came out of her mouth was a low groan. 

She could feel Polly’s hand between her legs, and the words “crowning” and “push” floated to her ears.  Ada took her hand, and Y/N tried with every fiber in her body to not push, but her body had other plans.  She held her breath and begged her body to stop forcing her baby out of her, but it was too late.  The pressure was building.  Climbing to a peak that felt like it would rip her in half until suddenly, she felt relief.  Her heavy breathing filled the room, and she waited impatiently for the tell-tale cries of her baby, but they never came.  She opened her eyes and looked at Polly and then at Ada.  They both just stared back at her, and Y/N knew something wasn’t right. 

“Y/N,” was all Polly whispered, and she knew.  The silence was deafening.  She lay there, completely exposed, bleeding, and sweaty, and waited, but her baby gave her nothing.  Her eyes shut and then, without any strength to stop it, let out a crushing wail.  The tears overflowed, and when she opened her eyes again, she watched the door burst open and Tommy storm in.  He moved over to where Polly held their baby and looked down at their motionless child.

“Why isn’t she crying?”  He asked. 

It was a girl.  I had a baby girl.  Even through her tears and sobs, she could see Tommy’s chest rising and falling at a rapid pace.

“Why isn’t she fucking crying, Pol!?”  Tommy’s voice boomed through the room and mixed with her loud cries to create the saddest song.  She could see the distress in the slant of his shoulders and how he ran a hurried hand through his cropped hair.  He didn’t wait for anyone to answer his question before bounding across the room and landing on the floor next to her.  His hands found hers, and she could feel them shaking.  His lips pressed to Y/N’s forehead and cheeks, absorbing only some of the tears that continued to cascade down her face. 

“It’s okay,” he whispered, but the way his voice cracked in her ear told her he didn’t even believe those words.  “I love you, Y/N.”  She could hear that his words dripped with the same despair she felt.  “You know that, ey?  I love you, and it’s going to be okay.”

Tommy’s words echoed in her head as she watched the fire blaze around her daughter’s wagon.  She wanted to be convinced that his words were true, but she couldn’t bring herself to believe them.  When the funeral finished, they all returned to Arrow House, where the wake was being held.  Even being in a crowded room surrounded by family, Y/N felt alone.  Her whole body was like radio static – unfeeling.  Tommy’s hand was on her lower back the entire time, but she still felt like she was floating away.  Nothing could tether her to this reality anymore.

Several people approached her and Tommy, and with every person, a new empty comment emerged. 

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” which loosely translates to, “Boy, that sucks to be you.”

“I can’t even imagine what you’re going through,” which means, “I’m really glad I’m not dealing with that!”

And, “At least you still have Ben,” equates to, “You shouldn’t be upset when you still have one kid alive.”

With every consolation tossed at her feet like the change she used to find on the ground when she was a child, this unknown sensation began to build in her chest.  It was heavy and wild, like an untamed animal.  It was red and bared its teeth, ready to bite.  It was something Y/N had never felt before.  She was usually understanding, calm, and collected.  She wasn’t hot-headed or easily provoked.  But now, she was quickly discovering that what she was feeling was rage.  Hot and stormy, it ravaged her insides, and instead of beating it back into its cage, Y/N leaned into it, letting it hold her battered and broken soul up.

After the wake, Y/N let her sadness swallow her.  She hid in one of the guest rooms daily and even went as far as to avoid Tommy.  She couldn’t bring herself to look at him because every time their eyes met, two things happened.  1) she could see the grief he was carrying like cinder blocks chained to his neck, and 2) she could see the way he looked at her like she was a broken piece of artwork now.  She knew she was a shell of the woman she once was, but it hurt her even more to know that Tommy saw it so plainly in her, too.  He didn’t see her as the strong, independent woman he fell in love with.  No, now she was a ghost of her former self, and she couldn’t take his pity for having lost their daughter and herself. 

Although clearly grieving, Tommy didn’t seem nearly as phased by their loss as Y/N.  He was able to jump back into work, and now, nearly a week since the wake, he was back to being fully invested.  If Y/N were being honest, she envied Tommy for being able to distract himself.  She couldn’t do anything but hide from the memories that haunted their home and do her best to still be a good mother to Ben.  When a week finally passed since laying her daughter to rest, Y/N knew she had to do something.  She would talk to Polly and beg for some sort of work.  She didn’t care that Polly insisted that Y/N take some “time to heal.”  She needed a distraction.  Being in Arrow House felt more like a prison than a home.

Y/N got dressed and began to head for the door after handing Ben over to Frances.  But, as she approached Tommy’s office, she could hear him talking.  She peeked through the tiny crack to discover John and Arthur sitting at Tommy’s desk. 

“Ada’s handling the Communists.  She’s got someone on the inside who’s giving us information,” Tommy stated.  “And,” he shuffled papers around on his desk, “I’m…dealing with Father Hughes.”

“And what about the horny princess?” John asked, leaning forward and adjusting his jacket.  “You gonna figure out where her family keeps the jewels?”

Tommy waved him off.  “I already know.”  That single statement had both his brothers and Y/N leaning forward just slightly.  Tommy lay a large blueprint on his desk, causing the brothers to stand.

“They keep their entire collection in this strong room.  There’s no way to get in from above without a key,” Tommy stated, flattening the paper and looking up at his brothers. 

“So, what’s your plan, brother?”  Arthur asked like a good soldier.  Tommy straightened slightly, and Y/N could tell he was a little uncomfortable.  He pulled a cigarette from his case and slid it across his bottom lip before lighting it and taking a drag. 

“We’ve gotta tunnel in,” Tommy said without hesitation.  Those four words landed on the Shelby men like a grenade, and Y/N could almost feel the atmosphere shift at the statement.  None of them moved.  It was evident that the idea of tunneling hadn’t been a thought in any of their minds since the war.  Tommy cleared his throat. 

“I know,” he began, “but there’s no other way.  I’ve already got Johnny Dogs ready to help.  He’ll set up camp where we’ll start the tunnel.”

The air was thick, and again, neither of the brothers spoke.  She knew they didn’t like the plan, but they would comply because Tommy was giving the orders.  Y/N watched as John and Arthur fiddled with their suit jackets, their anxious energy hitting her like a baseball bat to the face.  It wasn’t until Arthur blew out a puff of air and ran his hand through his messy hair, exposing his apprehension, that Y/N knew what she would do.  Without even a second thought, Y/N opened the door to Tommy’s office, and all three men turned to face her.  She was only adding insult to injury as the silence in the room became even heavier.  Neither of her brothers-in-law had seen her since the wake, and the uneasy energy was almost palpable.  Tommy stepped toward her but didn’t get too close, which Y/N could see his brothers noticed.

“Y/N, is everything alright, love?”

Her eyes flitted between all three of the Shelby men for a moment before finally landing back on Tommy.  She knew she probably looked like a deer in headlights.  Her stare was frazzled, and she knew she looked a bit harried.  But she still squared her shoulders and stated with the most conviction she could muster, “Let me help.”

All three men’s eyes widened to the size of saucers, but only one spoke. 

“Excuse me?”  Tommy asked, incredulity lacing each word.  There was no going back now.  Y/N had to double down on her commitment.  So, she waved her hand toward the blueprints on Tommy’s desk. 

“With the tunnel.”

Tommy’s eyes turned a shade darker, and Y/N could see his jaw tick.  She only glanced at John and Arthur for a second, and they both looked like they might choke on the thickness of the air.  She felt like she might, too, but she held her ground.  She was not a fragile porcelain doll and could help her husband like she used to.  Tommy coughed, then turned to his brothers and, in a calm voice, asked, “Would you mind giving me a moment with my wife, boys?”

Neither of the brothers wasted a second before hustling out into the hallway.  Once the door shut behind them, Tommy’s steely gaze landed back on Y/N.  Before, she would have felt a little nervous under Tommy’s intense glare.  She had never inserted herself into his shoddy business in the past.  But now, she didn’t care.  She needed a distraction and a way to prove that she was still a force to be reckoned with even after her loss.  Y/N could see Tommy trying to contain his anger as his nostrils flared and his fists clenched and unclenched at his sides.  His eyes shut for a brief moment as he took a deep inhale.

“Are you fucking insane, Y/N?”  He finally asked, his voice level.  Y/N’s mouth fell open, and she reared back just slightly.  But before she could say anything, Tommy continued.

“You’ve been avoiding me, your husband, for a week in our own home, and when you decide to finally speak to me, that is what you say?”

Y/N rolled her eyes.  “Tommy.”

“No, Y/N!”  He shouted, causing her to startle.  “You can’t just move past this!”

That statement made Y/N see red.  In the week since Lily’s passing, Tommy did precisely that.  Y/N’s spine straightened, and her whole body became rigid.

“Why not!?” she shouted back, stomping toward Tommy.  “Is that not what you did?  Pretend like we didn’t lose our daughter?  You threw yourself into your work.  Why can’t I do the same thing?”  Her chest was heaving, and as badly as she didn’t want them to, she could feel tears pricking at her eyes.  She hated that she was a frustrated crier.  Her fists were in tight balls at her sides, and every muscle in her body was flexed.  She was ready for a fight.  She was prepared for Tommy to yell back at her.  In fact, she wanted him to yell at her.  She wanted Tommy to tell her how stupid her idea was and that she was out of her mind.  She mentally begged Tommy to scream at her for barging in on his meeting with his brothers and even thinking about tunneling.  Y/N wanted to feel the passion he usually had toward her before they lost their baby.  She needed him to reassure her that she was not a lost cause he was housing but his fierce wife.  But he didn’t yell.  The fire in his eyes dimmed, and his features softened.  The pity eyes were back, and she was struck by the sadness she was trying to escape.  She shut her eyes in a lame attempt to avoid looking at her husband and keep her tears at bay, but it was futile.  The tiny droplets fell down her cheeks, and when she opened her eyes again, Tommy was right in front of her.  He lifted his hands to cradle her face, and she hated how she melted into his touch.  It had been a week since she even looked at Tommy, let alone touched him.  She couldn’t lie, she missed him.  But it was easier to hide from the pain and suffering they both shared than deal with it head-on. 

Y/N let out a shaky breath and looked into her husband’s eyes. 

“Why can’t I, Tommy?” She asked, barely above a whisper.  “Let me help you.  Please.”

Tommy’s thumb stroked her cheeks, wiping away a stray tear.  He cataloged her features, and for the first time in a very long time, she wished she could see into Tommy’s thoughts.  She stared at him and hoped that everything she wanted to say was conveyed in her eyes.  I’m no longer the same woman I was a week ago.  I’m a failure as a woman and a mother.  I’m alone, letting my thoughts eat me alive.  I’m scared you won’t love this broken woman I have become.  Her eyes pleaded for Tommy to let her prove that she could still be the same person as before.  She needed to prove to him and herself that she wasn’t hopeless.  But when Tommy shut his eyes and let out a sigh, she knew his answer before he even said it. 

He looked at Y/N and said sotto voce, “You know I can’t, love.”

Y/N’s body went rigid, and that new familiar sensation began to bubble in her gut.  She could feel it rumbling and swirling, mixing with her fear and sadness, creating an uncontrollable fury.  It burned like venom, but she found herself welcoming the sting.  Her once soft features hardened, and Tommy noticed the change immediately.  Her stare was blank, and the joy that used to fill it had vanished.  Before losing her daughter, she never understood why the war had changed Tommy.  She supported him while his experiences ravaged him, but she never knew why he returned with a harder exterior than when he left.  But now, after suffering such a devastating loss, she understood.  There is no coming back from witnessing a tragedy. 

Tommy’s rough thumbs brushed against Y/N’s tear-stained cheeks and bent until his forehead rested on hers.  “Where did the woman I married three years ago disappear to?”  He said, his breath fanning over her face.  He pulled back, his distressed stare locking Y/N in place, and whispered, “I know she’s in there.”

The words stung like a slap to her already bruised ego.  She could feel the weight of that question in every bone of her body.  All her fears began raging a war inside her head, and she could feel her armor cracking.  She could feel the tears clogging her throat, burning as she swallowed them down.  Her lungs felt like they weren’t getting nearly enough oxygen, and she was only seconds away from either crying or breaking something.  With a swift step backward, Y/N separated herself from her husband.  She hated to admit that her body yearned for Tommy’s hands back on her, but she batted that thought away as quickly as it appeared.  Tommy slowly lowered his hands back to his sides, and she leveled him with a callous stare.

“That woman is gone, Tommy,” she spat.  “She burned to ash with her daughter a week ago.”  She could see the way her words landed on Tommy like bullets striking his chest.  Some of her felt bad, but the angry beast slowly becoming her new persona convinced her she did nothing wrong. 

Y/N waited for Tommy to say something, anything, back to her, and when he didn’t, she turned and reached for the door.  Confidence that felt different from what she was used to coursed through her body like electricity.  She was a little scared of who she was becoming, but those wild and fiery feelings of rage were the only things that brought her peace.  Before pulling the door open, she turned back toward Tommy and said, “If you won’t let me help you, Tommy, I’ll find someone else who will.  You forget, my roots run deep in this business, too.”

Tommy let out a dry laugh.  “You’re really threatening me, now, ey?”

Y/N’s grip tightened around the cold door handle, and, through gritted teeth, she growled, “It’s not a threat, Thomas.  It’s a promise.”  Without a second look, she flung the door open and stepped out. 

John and Arthur straightened at her abrupt appearance, and she just brushed past them, letting her feet carry her toward the front of their home.  She knew they heard her and Tommy’s conversation, but she didn’t care anymore.  This newfound boldness that her bereavement had granted her washed away any and all anxiety.   

“Hope you enjoyed the show, boys,” Y/N tossed over her shoulder toward John and Arthur.  “Next time, I’ll sell tickets and make talking to my husband more worthwhile rather than a waste of my time.”

She didn’t turn back around to see their reaction to her words.  Instead, she showed herself out and hopped into one of Tommy’s many vehicles.  She would find another way if he wouldn’t allow her to help.  The image of a tall Jewish man whom she briefly met a while back when Tommy first started expanding into London entered her mind.  She knew exactly who would be more than willing to give her a hand in her effort to help the Shelby family – Alfie Solomons.

[illym]

Jam is so cute here. Poor Faust. Though maybe he can eat it like that...?

Translation assistance: @yomotsu-hirasaka

ID in alt.

Cleaned and original comics below the cut.

Specific assistance:

@.yomotsu-hirasaka: helped me figure out what the hell Jam was saying. She used a lot of Kanji and Katakana, apparently. Most of it for food.

Took a few liberties with the scripting here because otherwise it wouldn't have worked with the textboxes in English. it's the same functionally, as far as I'm aware. This is why I'm not asking upfront for a new translation, but I'll never say no to one.

I especially hated trying to find a word in the first bubble. I didn't want to split up the word after 3, but different and separate were too long. I don't like distinct, but it's what works, length-wise.

Sol looks dopey here. I only just now realized that they're fighting and that Sol wasn't just... Holding his sword like that. For some reason. Ky, go get a more distinctive sword.

Sorry, this comic is just super cute. God look at panel three right now. I'll wait.

Trying something new with what I... Assume to be the artists' names above the comics, where I romanize it but don't erase the original characters. I dunno. We'll see.

[hallowpen]

Hello! 👋 First of all i just wanna say, as someone who isn’t very familiar with Thai culture your explanations have been very enlightening and just give TLP another layer of depth, so thank you for posting them 🥹🙏. With that said, I was reading one of your posts that said “the social class nods are subtly woven into their interactions” and I was just wondering if you could maybe expand on that?

Hello!!! 😊😊😊 Aw... thank you!!! That actually means so much to me because this series means so much to me. I've been anticipating the adaptation of The Loyal Pin for who knows how long, at this point. I love the novel! (I own both the Thai and English versions. Though I haven't actually read the English translation yet, so I don't know how accurate it is to the original hehe) Once FreenBecky were attached, I was SOLD. Then the MOC decided to back the series and I knew how monumental this series would be, not just for Thai GL, but for Thailand in general. It makes me extremely proud to see important sapphic media, on such a large scale, originating from my home country. I could never have imagined something this grand happening just three years ago. It makes me emotional.

Before I get too in my feels, let me actually answer your question...

Just for clarification purposes, the ask is referring to my tags on this reblog of @dragonsareawesome123's gifset.

It's important to understand that Anil and Pin's whole dynamic is built around their social rankings, so it makes sense that their interactions reflect that... even if it's not entirely conscious. Anil is royalty, and because of that she is afforded certain liberties that Pin is not. Her 'mischievous' behaviors are excused and overlooked because, yes she is young, but she can also do as she pleases. She never faces any repercussions in the same way that Pin does. It's one of the perks of being a highly ranked Princess. Anil is favored in the palace because it's her home.

Pin is a guest. Yes, she holds the rank of 'nobility', but it is a title reserved for what higher ranking royalty would consider a commoner. She was afforded the privilege to live in the palace because Princess Pattamika took her in. Pin was not born into royalty. Neither was Pattamika, for that matter. Pattamika is strict with Pin, in much the same way Pin is strict with herself. Because neither of them can afford to have her fall out of line. Pin holds favor with Anil and her family, but it does not afford her the freedom to betray her social standing. If anything, it only enforces it. It makes you think...would they sill favor her if she were to go against their wishes in any way, shape, or form?

Pin is forever on the outside looking in... and she subconsciously knows it. And, in some ways, Anil subconsciously knows it as well.

"People say that it is so hard to hear Lady Pin uttering a word. As if you’re afraid something will fall out of your mouth." Anil to Pin

Unlike Anil, Pin must hold firm to palace rules.

"Why did you hit her?" "Lady Pin failed to take good care of Your Highness. She disgraced you by putting you in danger." Pattamika to Anil

"Please feel free to do as you wish. As if you would listen to me if I try to stop you." Pin to Anil

She dares not to disobey Pattamika, because she knows and understands why she'd be punished if she were to do so. And she cannot talk her way out of it, the way Anil can.

"Although she might be strict, meticulous, and strongly adherent to tradition... she loves me dearly, and continues to teach me and educate me in many things." Pin about Pattamika

"Poor Lady Pin, I really pity her. She often gets punished because of Anil."

She keeps her feelings of adoration for Anil hidden as secret treasures in her room.

She's quick to question Anil's lack of adherence to formal etiquette:

"Aren’t ladies normally supposed to [dance] with a gentleman? It would look peculiar if we do it together."

The only times she feels comfortable and gets to be herself is when Anil, for lack of a better word, 'allows' her to be. And Pin feels indebted to her because of that.

"Without you, I wouldn’t have been able to get through those lonely and miserable times. Thank you for being my friend, my home, and my everything."

So to answer Anil's question, Pin would feel incredibly lonely should Anil ever leave her... as she would no longer have an escape from society's class structure and expectations.

"With you, my life in the palace is never lonely." Pin to Anil

[sgiandubh]

@outlanderskin :"For those who have doubts: just research a little about Caitríona's dating history. See how she treated Dave and James and how she talked about them in interviews. See how she wrote about the Irish boyfriend she had in Paris in that article. Compare all of this to the impersonal way she treats or talks about Tony. Bingo🙃"

Good point 👌

Dear Good Point Anon,

You know, it's really serendipitous, as I have just finished a weeklong deep dive in very, very old press articles on (or at least mentioning) S and C, who clearly had a life before OL, thinking it would be nice to put some of my archive work skills to good service.

I think @outlanderskin was referring to C's New York Times article I reviewed and analyzed last summer, but I just found way better: a very long report in the Irish Independent's Sunday issue of July 11, 2004, focused on the next generation of Irish supermodels. Of which there could be only one, at that time: C, who dominates Roxanne Parker's 'Through Thick and Thin".

I am sorry, there is no link available to my knowledge, so we'll have to work with these very poor xerox scans:

I took the liberty of generously using my dreaded highlighter and, for the people who need to translate this post with Google, I am now taking my time to type what I find damn interesting in this almost twenty-year old article:

'If Ireland ever has a hope of having its own supermodel, then Caitriona Balfe is it. Sitting in the Pink Pony Café on Ludlow Street in New York, Caitriona swirls a wad of bread into her carrot and coriander soup while informing me that her musician boyfriend just brought her a breakfast-in-bed of cream eclairs and coffee a little over an hour ago. But that doesn't stop Caitriona from finishing her lunch and chasing it with a large cocoa-dusted cappuccino. Ebony-tressed and ivory-skinned, Caitriona clip-clops down the cobbled street after we leave the cafe, heading towards her apartment in Chinatown with Dave Mailone (sic!), the boyfriend, in tow.'

This reads, in 2024, like an interview with a more benevolent C clone from a totally different planet, indeed. A young, carefree, in love and hysterically funny C, who apparently had no problem heavily dishing out happy tidbits of her private life to her home country's press. A C also very much reminiscing anyone with a brain of the 2013-2018 bantering C, as this quote shows:

Again, you'll have to indulge me retyping it, Anon (tedious, I know - but helpful). She is remembering her real breakthrough, in November 2002, at the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show, in New York:

That was the most I've ever been paid for a show. I've got 18,000 euros for one day's work! They made me get a spray tan before the show, and I was still the whitest and the least well-endowed girl in the entire show! So what did she have to wear on the big day? `Not a whole lot! I think I described my outfit on the day as something Wilma Flintstone would wear on her honeymoon night. There wasn't a whole lot to it and it had bits of fur hanging off it.'

And, for good measure, we even have a (admittedly, awful) picture with the season's fiancé, with whom things did not end well:

I know, it looks like a Pravda pic, circa 1957 and I am honestly sorry. But it's still very clear. And, which is more important, very eloquent.

Anon and reader, you draw your own conclusions on this. I know where I stand. The only guy C has similar pics taken with and released in the press or on social media is the peasant some love to bash every single day in here. Their problem, not mine.

Yes, of course Mordor will yell and hiss. Of course they will throw rotten tomatoes at the blunt knife and scream THIS IS OLD. But hey, do you have any better than this poor (but oh, so endearingly authentic) picture or than any given S&C pic before the fucking EFH and IFH, when she gradually started to turn into today's Reclusive, Restrained and Rarefied Greta Garbo wannabe?

Oh, and please: don't give me the 'he's shy' or the paperwork crap again. Her public persona has drastically changed, and not for the better. It's plain to see and there are reasons for this.

Who's to blame? This question is so wrong, in so many ways.

The question should be 'what's to blame?'

I'll stop here, Anon and I hope it was somewhat useful. Thank you for dropping by.

[the-quiet-fire-of-defiance]

There was a post going around for a while about how kana means chicken in Finnish, making Kanafinwe = chicken Finwe. The thing is, a lot of Quenya names have te reo Māori meanings or can have funny meanings when transliterated into te reo. I've made a little list.

The most important thing to know is that 'wh' is pronounced 'f' in most dialects. Also, I took several liberties with the transliterations - when there were multiple options, I picked the one whose meaning I liked the best.

Translations

Maitimo: Māītimo means sour gardening tool. (Māī = sour, timo = a tool used to dig up sweet potatoes.) But if you're willing to mess around with the vowel sounds a little ... Māī-iti-mau [my-ee-tee-mo]* = to be a little sour to be captured.

*'au' is usually pronounced like the o in no.

Kanafinwe: Kana = wild stare / to stare wildly, making him Wild Stare Finwe.

Kano: either 1) colour or 2) bean.

Turukano: tūru means chair, so Tūrukano means chair bean

Ingo means desire, yearning, wanting. (Ingoldo becomes Ingoroto, a desire/yearning within.)

Amarie: Amārie = of peace, tranquility.

Arafinwe: ara means the waters breaking in childbirth. It also means path, but the first option is funnier.

Arakano: path bean

Angamaite: anga = to face, māī = sour, and tē = fart.

Curufinwe: Kuru has a lot of meanings including to hit/punch, to be tired, a piece of greenstone jewelry, or a mallet. So I guess that makes his name Tired Finwe, Ornamental Finwe, Mallet Finwe, or Punch Finwe. The last one would be in the imperative, making it a command.

Moringotto: we have to take out one of the t's to make this Mōringoto. It means either 1) intense unimportant person or 2) unimportant person to penetrate.

Transliterations

Feanaro: The best transliteration would be Wheanaro, which is pronounced the same as in Quenya. But my favourite interpretation is Whaea-ngaro; mother lost/missing.

(Edited to add that 'ng' is a soft sound pronounced like in sing. I'm cheating a bit here, because it's actually the equivalent of the Quenya ñ, not n like in Feanaro.)

Nelyo: We don't typically have l or y sounds. My preferred option for this would be Ngērō, meaning to scream inside.

Nelyafinwe -> Neriawhine or Nerawhine. Nera can mean nail (as in a metal nail) or to nail. Whine [fee-neh] isn't a word in most dialects, but in some very small areas it's the word for woman/women.* (In most areas the word is wahine.) So uhhhhh interpret that as you will, but this may be the single most ironic name on the list.

*Another possible transliteration of Finwe would be Whinewē, meaning woman liquid. This is physically painful to me so I'm sticking with Whine.

Findekano: In the same vein, Whinekano means bean woman or woman bean. If you prefer Whine-te-kano or Whine-tē-kano, the former means Woman The Beans and the latter means women fart beans.

Turko is Tūrukau: chair cow / nothing but a chair.

Makalaure could become Makarōre. Maka = to throw/fling and rōre = lord, making the full name Yeet Lord. A prophetic mother name.

Tyelkormo would become Terekomo. Tere= swift/fast. Komo... um. This is mostly used to describe putting on clothes. But it can also mean to thrust or insert. So basically the same as the Quenya

Moryo = Mōriau, a firm unimportant person / a howling unimportant person.

Curvo: if written as Kuruwau, in certain dialects it would mean hit me.

Pityo would be Pitiau: defeated smoke/mist.

Findarato: rātō means western, so Whinerātō = western woman.

There are also names that are pronounced the same in te reo Māori as they are in Quenya but have no Māori meaning, e.g. Anaire or Curumo.

Take this whole thing with a pinch of salt, because obviously we don't usually make word-for-word translations of transliterated names. Like I said, I've also taken some liberties with the transliterations. But to the best of my knowledge, all of these are accurate translations.

It's the House of Finwe uwu smol beans

[thesimquarter]

hello! sims 2 miniopolis update!

first of all, my current sims 2 urbz sims >:3 outside of the obvious change of a default skin, they don't look that different compared to my old versions of them. But! believe me they are better.as well, this time! there's the DS exclusive characters and a few sims intended to be townies. In order, Lloyd, Red Man, Daschell Swank, Chet R. Chase, Bucki Brock's sister, Joe from the Flea Market (yes, he does have a name), Ava Cadavra, and Gordie Puck. Indeed, they're very red.

And an update to the town in general! I've finished most of the easy lots now, mostly having harder lots to do now. Such as the Mausoleum, Circus, Brownstones + Slice O'Life (which I… attempted. can you believe that the map of this game doesn’t follow the laws of physics?), etc.

New lots include: - Junked Schoolbus (which IS connected to the Chopper Garage visually but they aren't the same lot) - Chopper Garage (which i am not going to put underneath the road/jail! it looks cool in-game, but possibly impossible to do in the sims 2 but it makes no sense spatially!! the other side of the garage would just be underground!!!) - Cemetery (Mostly just empty buildings for aesthetics. No graves… yet. and there probably won’t be until the final version of the hood.) - Miniopolis Chronicle (TINY) - Miniopolis Hospital + University (if this was ts3 i probably would have made them separately) - Club Xizzle (what is it supposed to look like on the outside + should there be two?) - Glasstown Megamall - Cinema d'Urbania (how do you make a cinema in this game? big TV?)

I redid King Tower as well, just to make it fill out a 3x3 lot instead of a 2x2 lot, and Café Multiplaya has a new outdoor seating area (to fill in space). The Coffee Shop, the Market, and Glasstown apartments were in my last post, just kinda in the background. The Market has a lot of creative liberties taken to it, as I just didn't like how it translated into the Sims (as in it's made to represent the real-life French Quarter Market more). The Glasstown Apartment has a few other units in it for some of the Urbz sims (more on that in a bit!)

I removed pretty much, all the elevation from the .s4c terrain. It's easy to put back butttt, the sims 2 just doesn't work in a way that's friendly to sloped lots (and simcity 4 for slopes that take <1 unit of distance, you can't make steep cliffs in these games. so, basically, due to the compactness of the city, there isn’t enough room to add in slopes without making it all janky). They may come back at the end if we can Wizard the slopes to work the lots, but for now...

Ignore the weird road off the Sim Quarter. I was experimenting with what could be done with the riverboat. I was thinking about putting it on a beach lot and making a joke about it being temporarily landlocked (read: i already did) and was trying to find a good, functional place to put it. There may be other ways to do a riverboat though… hmmm

Anyways onto housing for the Sims. So, the Glasstown Apartments has a few more units to fit in a few other characters (Lottie Cash (I did manage to squeeze a bowling alley in there), Lily Gates, and Darius) but other than that? Very little! (I did Ewan’s House. however, it’s just a box; i took modest pretty literally). I might make a post soon where I talk about where each Urb would probably live, just as an excuse to talk to myself for a little while.

[bakuhatsufallinlove]

re: 405

This is gonna be long.

First, I'm bringing this post back around to remind people that kocchi is a pronoun of ambiguous plurality.

This means that an interpretation of "we" is just as correct as an interpretation of "I." Readers may interpret it differently, but on simply linguistic grounds, they are of equal validity.

You will often see this kind of ambiguous language used in Japanese, even with characters that are forthright. The reason is one part cultural expectation that the listener will read between the lines, and one part a willingness to accept two things as simultaneously true. This exists and is frequently found in English as well, there just isn't a direct parallel for kocchi itself.

What I want most out of writing this blog, aside from personal enjoyment, is for people to understand that there can be more to a story for you to engage with, think about, and be moved by, when you step outside the boundaries of your own language and culture.

I think that is a much more interesting space to be in than a gotcha-laden approach of trying to prove something wrong or bad.

But if we are going to talk accuracy, the fact is that the fan translation many people have been upholding as superior has just as many problems as the official one. It takes just as many creative liberties, they are simply different ones.

The fan translator centered an "I" reading and, rather than using either of the two pronouns provided by the text ("OFA" and あいつ, meaning "that guy"), added a narratively-charged word ("nerd") that did not exist in the original and which (as far as I can tell) Katsuki has never used when speaking to villains. As a translator myself, I really disagree with that second choice. The official clearly missed the callback, but noticed the theme of "everyone who has faced AFO until now" and went with "we." The rest was just style over substance which prioritized edgy language to capture the aggression of the line; this falls squarely in line with what Viz has consistently maintained as its in-house aesthetic. It's disappointing, but unsurprising to me.

Fandom oscillates pretty violently between vilifying the official English release and fawning over it. Whole fan theories are built upon nitty gritty bits of the official release's phrasing; people will get excited over how homoerotic a line sounds, and it's because of how the official translator worded it, rather than any innate implication in the original Japanese.

If you do not speak Japanese, your experience of MHA is fundamentally dependent on the work of translators. I respect that everybody has their personal tastes or hopes for how the series will go, but it is deeply demoralizing as a Japanese speaker and translator to see fans who don't speak any Japanese at all act as though their opinion has the same weight of authority as people who do.

You are entitled to your preferences, but please recognize that they are based in taste, not personal knowledge. Not all Japanese translators will even agree in their interpretations, but it weirds me out that some non-Japanese-speaking fans will use this fervor to spread misinformation far and wide that proclaims as inaccurate perfectly good official translations, simply because the choices don't suit their own tastes.

The lists of "times the fan translations were better" I've seen mostly contain instances where the fan translators took greater liberties than the official release did, and some fans just happened to like the liberties that were taken.

We all reasonably hated the "best friend" fan translation of chapter 359, but somehow that isn't a point forever against fan translations the same way mistakes in the official release are?

At this point, it makes me wonder what the point of writing about linguistic nuance is, if the interest is primarily not in learning but in being told what you want to hear.

I know posting this won't win me any favor with anybody, but it's how I feel. I'm bummed about 405's last line in the official. I do hope it gets revised. But the vibes around translation details are getting decidedly unfun.

One last thought: if you well and truly want to experience MHA unfiltered, learn Japanese. I mean this sincerely, I'm not trying to be a jerk. We live in an age where it is easier and more possible than ever to acquire a new language, talk to people around the world, and absorb yourself in culture and history.

If you want to remove middle-men and develop your own relationship with a work unfettered by the tastes, biases, or choices of others, learn the language. It won't be easy, but I can guarantee you won't regret broadening your horizons and discovering even more beautiful stories in the world.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Hiii

Idk if you have done this before but a Morpheus x reader one where Dream has been recently set freed and is so touched deprived that when he met up with reader once mode after being separated for a century he can't control himself and it leads to some sexy stuff in which it leads to them breaking the bed (kinda like the honeymoon scene in twilight 🤭)

Just straight up desperate needy Morpheus hours 🫶🏻

Caged

Dream of the Endless x Demon Hunter!Reader

Summary: Dream has made himself believe that he is alone in the world, nothing has further solidified this that being imprisoner for a century. Who'd have thought he'd find warmth in one of the coldest people alive.

Word Count: 5k+

Warnings: Fem!reader, smut (biting, marking, dom/sub dynamic, hair pulling, vaginal penetration, oral [m receiving], edging ig?, unprotected sex, brat!dream idk it just happened, praise kink [uh... reader talks to him like a god during sexy time so]), hurt/comfort ig, reader's so angry HAHAHH T_T, fluff, etc.

A/N: im not in the mood for smut but i might be when i write this. update MINORS DNI hello nonnie i am finally in the mood for smut HAHHAAHHA and i am in the mood to ruin dream's life (: i took a lot of creative liberties i have no idea why i made this so long so i hope you enjoy it my dear <3 another day another 5k smut fml Also i invented a lot of stuff for reader, like giving Morpheus a Roman name so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ just just just roll with it along with my most definitely wrong google translated Latin ok? ok. Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @deniixlovezelda @shadow-pancake9 @sloanexx anOTHER one (continuation) "Petty And Yours"

"You know," I swirled a watermelon lollipop in my mouth, "you're so pathetic for that."

A breeze blew back my maxi dress and I crossed my arms at the fact I was being ignored by the uncharacteristically warmly dressed man.

The park bench he was sat in the middle off had some fallen leaves that were slowly tumbling down to the ground with the push of the wind. I give him a moment to respond. I huff at his continued silence.

"Earth to Dream?" I call louder.

Still nothing.

"Somnium Regem?"

A bird makes a sound as a large piece of bread is gobbled down its throat.

"Hey! Sulky trench coat man!" I bark.

Finally, the man feeding pigeons turns to me.

His eyes are dull and bright all at once, a shade of glistening blue that had no life behind them. I raise my brows, lips pulling upward in distaste, "you remind me of that bat in Gotham. So emo for no reason," I scoff, straightening my arms, "everyone's parents die at some point."

"Why are you here, demon hunter?" the being grips his baguette.

I scoff again, "I'm here because I like you, baby."

He turns away from me, tearing up bread, haphazardly then dropping it in front of small creatures. I grimace as the birds flock over to the bread like they had nothing better to do-- which they don't.

"I do not enjoy your bitter sarcasm, eight," Dream says pointedly.

I roll my eyes, walking over to him, fingers rolling the lollipop stick sticking by the side of my mouth, "well, if you didn't ask me stupid-" I push his legs together so that I can sit next to him, "-fucking questions, then maybe I wouldn't want to constantly drop kick you."

Dream hastily moves to the side as I plop down next to him, crossing my legs as I lean back and stretch my arm out on the backrest. I look at him as he looks at me. Wind blows at both of our hair. I move his dark strands along with the breeze so that I would not poke at his already glassy eyes.

He blankly stares.

I shrug in expectance, "Domina told me you've been sulking, and that I'd find you here, just like how she found you here days ago."

Dream blinks, "my sister should not have troubled you with needless concerns."

I furrow my brows at his response. I roll my eyes incredulously, "you are so fucking stupid."

He gives me side eye before turning back to his pigeons.

"You know, for someone who should have a profound understanding of the world, you clearly don't know anything."

The Endless hisses under his breath, "silence."

"What?" I give him a look, "don't like that?"

I can see him almost going against himself as not to sneer at my grilling.

I pout exaggeratedly and speak as though I was a child, "wha' you gon' do 'bout it? You gon' kill me now?" I raise my hands and monotonously hark, "oh no help, I'm so scared."

"I do not know why Death sent for you," he quips, breaking his gaze from the birds to narrow his eyes at me. He continues crumbling bread onto the ground.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes as I straighten and face forward, "that's because I'm the most irritating bondservant she has," I prop my elbows on my legs, "which is effective for making people want to do my bidding in return for me shutting up."

"I shall not leave," he looks to the feeding animals, "I am keeping the pigeons company," he mutters, "they appear... lonesome."

I wipe my hands on my face, pulling the lollipop out of my mouth as I sigh, "intenta et tenera domina." My eyes twitch in annoyance when I muttered 'the attentive and tender lady' in my mother tongue. "I should have known we were playing therapist today."

I shake my head, popping the candy back in my mouth, grabbing the bread from his hand. He turns to me, helplessly watching, unable to fight against me; he knows I'd bite his finger off if he touches me.

"Ever heard of projecting, Somnia?" I hiss, chucking his baguette as far off as I can.

He watches the projectile disappear into a bush.

He glares at me.

Goosebumps form on my skin when he speaks, "visne noctes noctes te affligere?"

Admittedly, the roll and click of his tongue speaking Latin did make me stiffen, though, 'do you want nightmares to plague you tonight?' was a threat so empty to me.

I sniffle, retorting in the same language, "I haven't visited your nightmarish domain since its castle walls began to crumble."

Dream takes his turn to freeze.

I tilt my head, crushing the lollipop between my teeth, "personally," I pull the stick out my mouth, tucking it in Dream's pocket, who does nothing when I do so, "I take enough trips to hell to not want to visit something that mirrors it so well. Not when I'm supposed to be dreaming of heaven."

I can see how my words strike through him.

I notice how his stoic and pale face hardens and loses its color even more.

I continue to egg him on, "I feel bad for your dreamers who think the drab ones the have at night are the best you can do."

I can almost hear the gloom radiate off him.

I purse my lips and stand, "speaking of nightmares, I caught your nightmare once," I place my hands on my hips, "I thought the gruesome serial killing was demonic in nature, so I tracked the killer, only to find it was no other than your Corinthian."

Dream looks at me, expressionless, as I raise my brows, "did you handle him, Somnium Regem?"

The Dream King looks like he does not want to talk to me at all now. I give him a challenging look and needlessly straighten out his coat for effect.

He straightens up, then brings his hands in his pocket, pulling out a skull that had teeth where his eye sockets should have been.

I look at the thing, feeling a swirl in my stomach, "poor In Oculis."

Dream visibly reacts to the Corinthian's old Latin name, The Eyeless.

He remnant of his creation disappears from the palm of his hand, "how long have you gone without sleep?"

I turn away from him, shrugging at his U-turn back into that conversation, "does it matter? I won't die."

"It matters because Somnium Regem is inquiring this of you."

I turn to him and repeat my answer, "I told you, ever since your castle began to crumble, it's just be me, myself, and coffee."

Somnia stands, towering over me, uncharacteristically high, "you have not slept in a hundred years?"

I look up at him with knit brows, "has anyone slept in a hundred years?"

"Then at once you must-"

"I'm not here-" I grab his collar, tugging him down slightly closer to me, "-to talk about my sleep pattern, Somnia. I'm here to make you stop sulking."

"That is not your forte, demon hunter," he brings his face close to mine, "perhaps if you were from the fifth."

"Fuck you," I snap, getting on my tiptoes to near his stupidly high face, "I'm good at everything."

Somnia grumbles something under his breath.

I release my grip on his coat and snap my fingers, "and besides," I raise my arms out to the side. I take one step back and allow myself to fall backwards. I then dip into the portal I conjured in the ground, swinging up until I was standing on the other side.

I turn over my shoulder, finding Dream was already standing there behind me. I grin, "I'm the only person who knows what it's like to be trapped for a hundred years."

Now in the confines of my home, I strut over to my sofa where an axe was placed and consecutively forgotten, "though, mine was eight hundred."

I turn to Dream, who suddenly looked uncomfortable.

I laugh at him, "wow. You finally feel bad for me? You used to be so indifferent when I mentioned that to you."

My eyes zero in on the note on my axe, hissing at the reminder that I meant to put it away last week. I grab the piece of paper, instinctively crumpling it. I instantly regret my innate inclination to destroy, cursing under my breath, then flattening out the thing.

"Make yourself at home, Morpheus," I rub the paper in my hand, "let me just put this thing back where it came from."

I grab the axe and prop it on my shoulder.

Dream does not make himself at home; he instead follows me as I walk to the weapons room. I give him a look, "I guess you can feed the gremlins in the basement if you want."

"I would rather follow you."

I shrug, "ok then."

I make my way down the hall, and open the light in room once I enter, revealing the age old trinkets and gadgets my family has been using since the first generation. I bring the note to a chamber that then seals the object with the rest of the artifacts like it.

Dream further scrutinizes the thing as I walk to the axe holders. "Constantine?" he says after reading what was written on the note.

I grunt as I put away the borrowed item, "the idiot wanted to borrow this," I motion to the axe in my grip, "I told her she can't touch it, touched it anyway, didn't die" I huff, after securing the axe back in its place. I place my hands on my hips as I turn to Dream, "and now I got a thank you note in return."

Dream turns back to the note that read: Thxxx -Constantine.

"Items of gratitude are the best bait for a soul suckers," I say, then pointing to a bunch of dark hued orbs on a shelf before walking over to him, "almost as good as nightmares."

I reach his side as he looks out to his gift to the sixth, the sixth generation of my family, Nightmare Marbles. They were largish glass spheres that harnesses the darkness of nightmares; a demon's equivalent to chocolate bars.

"And you relived your worst nightmare to procure so much bait, eight?" Dream whispers, turning to me with a tense expression.

I give him a look, "didn't you say my grandma from the third generation was also a sucker for punishment?"

"She did not go through her worst nightmare 78 times to make nightmare marbles."

I turn to the shelf, "damn, you managed to count all that so quickly?"

"Eight, this is-"

"What? I'm genuinely impressed!"

I freeze when he calls out my actual name. He rarely did that. In fact, there were only a few people who knew my real name and did not call me eight. Eight, as in I am from the eighth generation of demon hunters from my family. It became my name because, well, I was the only left, which was why I could not die.

I feel my belly roll at the sound. I clear my throat, weakly speaking, "what?"

"I did not gift that to your grandparents only to have you use it to punish yourself."

"Why would I want to punish myself?" I mutters, "I'm not you."

Dream is silent.

I sigh, walking out of the room, "after living out eight hundred years in hell in one fucking day, you tend to instinctively get fucked up in the brain."

I make my way down the hall, and at the end, Dream was there, already waiting for me. I give him a quick look as I pass him, "the nightmare doesn't hurt me anymore."

"Eight," he calls. I do not stop on this account. I do, however, when he asks, "why are you lying to me?"

I suck in a breath, keeping it deep in my lungs. I feel him walk up to me. I feel him take my hand.

I turn to him, sighing and brows knitting at his affection. He is still towering over me, and don't feel like craning my neck up so I don't look at him. I tighten my grip on his hand, "why are you lying to me?"

When I finally look up at him, he releases a breath. I release his hand and get on my tip toes to grab his cheeks. It was as though his glassy eyes were waiting for this moment to allow the tears to fall.

I knit my brows at the unexpected reaction. I sigh at the sight of him.

"I did not lie to you," he responds like a secret.

"Really?" I speak in disbelief as I wipe tears on his cheeks, "was it the pigeons that were lonesome, or you?"

"... both..."

I fall back onto my feet, hands trailing down to his chest, "you're right. I suck at... comfort..." I take the lapels of his coat between my fingers, "only cause I'm rough around the edges. Sorta like you," I hum, raising a brow at him, "except I can admit to it, whereas you-"

I push his chest, making him walk back all the way to the sofa my axe was moments ago. I force him down, and down he goes, bouncing on the cushion. He looks up at me as I pull away and give him a soft smile, "you need that coaxed out of you."

I was meant walk away from him, but he grabs my thigh before I can.

"Non potes exspectare dicere tale quid me derelinquas."

You cannot expect to say such a thing then leave me.

I look at the hand hooked behind my thigh. I raise my brow quizzically, "I have work."

"I am your work," he says, other hand coming to my other thigh, "your Lady commanded you to take care of me."

I snort, grabbing his chin, "no, she told me to make you stop sulking."

"Yes, she did," he hums, hands trailing down my legs, grabbing the ends of my skirt.

"You were literally crying a moment ago."

"You're a tear in my heart."

"That's a twenty one pilots song."

"And I am eager for you to make me stop sulking."

Dream's eyes are fixed on me s he leans in and begins bunching up the fabric in his palms, slowly bringing them up with his hands.

I release a sigh when his hands make it back where it was before, though perhaps a bit higher this time. I place my hands on his arms, stopping him from continuing. He turns stills like a statue before me.

I nibble my lower lip before speaking, "if we're going to do this, we do this in my terms."

His lips instantly curve up in response. He nods slowly, "in imperio tuo."

On your command.

I push him back upon hearing that, a lump in my throat forming at the words from my mother tongue. I quickly climb on to him, straddling his legs, fingers combing into the roots of his hair by his nape.

I immediately lock his lips with mine. His hands work much quickly this time around, ripping my skirt all the way up, making me raise my hands so that he can pull my dress off me.

I moan against him when his hands begin to scratch up my back. He moans against me when I grind down on him.

I pull away, catching my breath so I could take my turn in undressing him. He moves to help me rid of his ridiculous coat and when he grips his shirt, I hiss at him, giving him a stern look, "don't spoil my fun."

I then push myself off him and bunch up his shirt in my hand, dragging him all the way back to my bedroom.

Once we're there, I push him onto my bed and crawl on top of him, perching on top of his groin, slowly digging my hands into his sides, underneath his clothes.

I reveal his stomach to me, pressing my fingers down the middle of his skin, "so pretty."

His hand trail up my thighs, kneading at the flesh, humming, "yes," he tugs at my panties, "you are quite exquisite."

I chuckle, lips curving into a smile, "aww, you're going to make me blush," I swat at his hands, "hands off."

He reluctantly obeys.

At this point, I rid him off his shirt and his hands immediately move to come back to my thighs. I swat him away again, to crawl down and begin to attentively kiss his chest.

I sigh against him as his hands come to my sides. I feel the purr-like sounds he produces as I suck and graze my teeth on his muscly pec. I hum in approval when I pull away and see the blazing red mark I left on his burning white skin, "if you morph my art off your body, I will give you nightmares."

I begin working on his skin again when he laughs at my words. I feel the vibration on my lips. He rubs my shoulder with his hand, "a titillating thought."

I look at him from where he was looking down at me and bite down on the side of his ribcage. He grunts in response. I raise a brow at him, "it's a threat, Somnia."

His eyes darken, where mine sparkle.

Without warning, he pulls my head back by my hair, and pushes himself up by his other arm, "who do you think you're threatening, child?"

I wince, chuckling under my breath, "clearly this wanton creature beneath me."

He pulls me back by my hair more as he sits up all the way. I make a sound as he grabs my thigh and skids me closer on him.

Dream brings his face close to mine, nostrils flaring, as if in warning.

I chuckle, licking his lips, "remember, sweetling," I tug on his lower lip, releasing it to say, "on my command."

He sucks in a deep breath.

I raise a brow, "you wouldn't want me to leave you, now do you?"

He sighs, releasing my hair.

I push him back down, clicking my tongue as I do so, "naughty boy," I chastise, "wanting to take the reins so badly."

I begin to undo his pants, holding in my laugh at the visible imprint on him, "maybe I should take precautions before undoing you, hmm?"

I push myself off him and leaning to my side. His hands take hold of my waist as I grab something from my bedside table. I look down on him with a grin as his hands knead at me. I shake my head, "off."

Dream stills.

"Get your hands off me, Dream."

He obeys and so I take both his wrists in front of me. The golden serpent bracelet begins to then slither around his wrists. He watches this contraption shackle him and grunts, "you mock me, demon hunter."

I chuckle, moving off him, "well, you're being quite difficult."

Dream helplessly watches as I get off the bed and walk to the side of the room. I hear him try to rip at his cuffs. I laugh as I grab a silver spear, "that was a gift from Jupiter. Try not break it."

I then plummet my spear at the base of my bed. I wiggle a finger at Dream, beckoning him over, "now come over, beloved Somnia."

He does not struggle as he crawls over to me with bound hands.

"On your back," I say, "hands up."

Dream does just that, rolling on his back, bringing his bound wrists to the spear where the serpent then begins to constrict itself.

"Very good, my king."

The king makes a sound of distaste, which I heartily laugh at.

I waste no more time and quickly go to him, ridding him of his remaining clothing like a kid on Christmas morning.

My lips involuntarily part at the size of him, "fuck. I forgot you made yourself... bigger."

I find offence when he chuckles and croons, "will this be a problem?"

"No," I quip quickly.

"Very good, then," he smiles.

I mock, "very good then."

Once it was now just me, him, and his pulsing length, I begin my ministrations. I crawl back on him and grin, grabbing his hardened member, "not quite a watermelon lollipop but-" I cut myself off and take him in my mouth.

He heavily breathes out and shuts his eye. I giggle in approval over his reactions, one hand coming to my core, already slickened with arousal.

I lap my tongue around him before taking him deeper. I press both my hands on his thighs when his legs begin to stir.

I dig my nails into his hips and slowly constrict my teeth around him as I bob my head up and down him. In a sort of challenge for myself, I make an attempt to take him all. The moment he hits the back of my throat however, I begin to struggle and will myself to relax to further take him in.

When I begin to gag, I pull myself off and catch my breath, leaning my weight into, "you did this on purpose," I scoff, "you knew this would happen."

"I am not omniscient," he laughs, "I did not foresee this-"

"Oh fuck you," I cut him off, "I'm going to fucking make you cry."

Oh, you can bet that he found that funny.

His laughter was cut off when I removed my underwear, chucking my panties and bra to where ever, then mounted myself on him. I am glad I am wet enough to take him in but I cannot withhold the whine that I tried to conceal as I did so. Fuck him and his magnum cock.

Well... that was what I was doing.

Once I am on him, he lets out a moan and the pulls at his shackles, making the snake bracelet glow and constrict tighter on him.

I take my turn to laugh this time around, and my core, which was still busy adjusting to the size of him, flutters around him. I don't say it as self-satisfied as I wanted to, "serves you right."

He calls out my name. It makes my stomach roll.

I fell him slowly rock his hips into me and I push down on his chest, whining at his attempts, "stop! Stop! Give me a fucking chance."

He instantly stops and looks up at me with a worried look, "I apologize, I-"

"Shut the fuck up," I shake my head, "the more you speak, the more I want to fuck you up."

Dream presses his lips into a thin line, but he obeys.

After a while, I allow myself to ride him like an eager jockey.

I rock myself on him at a slow pace. I heave in and out at the overwhelming feel of him. My toes curl at the bundle of nerves he hits every time he fills me up to to my fucking stomach.

I sigh as I rub on my sensitive nub as I press my weight forward. I close my eyes and chew on my lip at the sensations. I drag my flesh out of my teeth as I begin to feel pressure build within me.

"More," Dream whines, craning his head up to look at me.

I look down on him, narrowing my eyes, "pretty boys like you don't ask," I mutter, "they beg."

I push my hands on his chest and lean down to give him a kiss, all while keeping the slow pace of my thrusts. When he meets me halfway to take my lips in his, I dodge him, then rub my nose on his, "I said beg. Beg for me."

He moves his head closer to catch my lips, and I pull all the way back, sitting up again to look down on him in disappointment. He whines, pulling his arms, making my contraption glow and constrict all over.

He drops his head in defeat. I chuckle.

"Beg," I call out louder.

Dream gulps, "please."

"What?"

"Please."

"Please, what?" I cease the roll of my hips, "please stop?"

He heaves, lifting his head back up, ripping at his wrist, "please don't stop."

"Mmm," I nod, "but I'm a little confused, my lord," I massage my breasts, "what exactly should I be doing?"

He watches my hands for a moment. I'm amused it actually distracts him. I chuckle, "Earth to Dream?"

Dream sighs.

"Somnia?" I drag out.

"Move your hips," he says breathlessly.

I hum, pretending to debate his words.

"Please," he adds, making me smile.

I rub my wetness on him, "you mean like this?"

Dream sighs, gulping roughly, "no."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, but I have no idea what you mean, my king," I pout, making no attempt to give him what he so clearly wanted.

"Thrust into me," he sputters, "ride me like an eager jockey."

I snort, breaking into a laugh. I feel a rush shoot through me. My hands come up to my cheeks, "you heard that?" I giggle, "dirty, dirty boy, listening to my thoughts."

"Please," he strains, pulling at his binds again. He drops his head, huffing, "please move."

"Well, now that you're asking me so nicely," I muse, shifting on him, hands falling back on his chest. I begin to move up and down, slow and steady, emptying out and getting filled right back in with his stiffened length.

He moans in approval, eyes closing in pleasure. I sigh and lick my upturned lips, "better, baby?"

"Yes," he drags out a breath, "yes, thank you."

I groan at his words, moving a bit faster, "oh fuck, that's hot. Am I making you feel good?"

"Yes. Very good."

I whine, "fuck."

As I move on him, I savor his feel, how he's deliciously stretching me out and how my insides were sucking him in.

I momentarily slow when I hear a strained crackling sound in front of me. What the fuck was that?

It takes me about two seconds to realize it was my bracelet. Oh fuck.

I feel my inside flutter at the possible threat literally about to unravel before me. I lick my lips, "you enjoying yourself, Dream?"

He only moans in response.

"That's not an answer, darling?" I hum, slowing down all over again.

His eyes break open and his jaw tenses. I hear a fucking cracking sound. Is that my spear or my bracelet?

"Come on, use your words, Prince of Stories."

"I want you to move faster," he mutters gutturally.

What the fuck, is that my floor?

"Please?"

I dig into the side of his ribs and give in to his pleas. He moans and shuts his eyes again, but the strain on my bracelet does not waver. I watch as the object burns brighter.

I whimper when Dream begins to move beneath me. I tear my gaze from his wrists to his face, scowling at him, "behave."

To my surprise, he obeys, then whispers, "please kiss me."

I coo at his sentiment, feeling my core for him. I lean over and plant my lips on him. I moan at the feel of his tongue sneaking into my mouth.

I bring my grip onto the mattress and begin moving faster than I have yet. I whine and pull away from him to catch my breath, "giddy fucking up horsey."

It takes me a second to realize what I just fucking said.

The next moment, I grunt and find myself giggling. I crack myself up with how wholeheartedly stupid and dick delirious I've become. As I continue to laugh, I find myself slowing to prioritize my amusement while I screw my eyes shut.

I was soon very clear that it was a poor choice.

All at once, there was a loud snapping sound. The moment I opened my eyes, I behold a broken bracelet and a bent spear. Oh, yeah, and he unamused Dream of the Endless that was now slowly sitting up in front of me.

I release a final chuckle.

My sounds go dry as his hands take my hips and he brings his face closer to me, "I do not appreciate the fact you're so easily distracted while making love to me, my dear."

I grunt when he bucks into me. My arms wrap around his shoulders as my voice hikes up with his movements. I wrap my legs around his torso as I mumble halfheartedly, "we're not making love, we're... we're fucking."

He groans at that, moving in to kiss me feverously. I whine when his fingers rub at my core. Dream pulls away, forehead resting on mine, "you mock me so readily."

"Yeah," I huff, "well you deserve-"

I choke on my next words as I plummet back into my bed where Dream takes the reins fully, rocking into at a tempo that pleased him, and, well, me.

I mindlessly call his name, legs and arms wrapping around him as he moderately fucks into me. My bed creaks at his force.

It doesn't take long for him to speed up.

I whine and screw my eyes shut.

"Is this a good pace? Am I pleasing you?" he mutters against my neck.

I open at the sound of his words. He did not speak with the same taunting tone I had. He asks me this in genuine inquiry, genuinely intent on finding out if he was, in fact, pleasing me.

I pepper his jaw with kisses then nibble on his earlobe before replying, "yes, my sweet boy," I moan, "you can move a little faster if you want to."

"I want to," he quickly responds.

I sigh, "then faster, baby."

He moans and kisses me in response. His movements rip out a deep cry from deep within me as he hastens.

"That's it," I struggle, one hand digging into his unruly hair, pulling at it, "you're doing so good for me. So good."

The king growls against me, sucking at my neck, just below my jaw.

"Fuck," I sigh, "dulcis somnium meum."

My sweet dream.

He adjusts me beneath him, hands coming to thighs, squeezing the area as he presses deeper, "you feel so good around me."

My toes curl at his words and my skin breaks out in goosebumps at his hot breath.

"Pretiosum venatorem," Dream dictates 'my precious hunter,' sucking on the base of my throat, "such beautiful sounds."

My breath quickens with his actions. I roll my head back as my fingers dig into his spine.

"Dic quomodo sentio," he breathes against me, "quaeso."

Tell me how I make you feel... please.

"Good," I whimper, "great," I whine, "et stupri magna." So fucking great.

"Beautiful," he retorts, "so beautiful like this, so beautiful beneath me."

I feel myself coil up around him. He seems to feel it too, since his one hand leaves my thigh to rub at my pulsing heat.

He muses to me in Latin. He speaks poetry to me in my native tongue, praising my lips, my breath, my warmth, and how I was taking him so well.

I return his poetry with deep grunts and age old curses that would make the Roman deities shun me in sore displeasure.

And yet Somnia kisses me, practically eating up my vile words like honey and delivers me into pure adoration, pure fucking ecstasy.

I yelp when I break beneath him. I whine and rip at him, teeth digging into his shoulder, legs constricting around him tighter. The sensation is further intensified when I feel him release into me, pace now maddeningly fast, brutal, and delicious.

"Yes, Dream!" I call, helplessly spiraling under him. "Praise to the Dream Lord," I find myself whining in Latin as I ride out my high and quiver out all the breath that's left in my lungs.

He moans, kissing my cheek, replying in the same language, "I accept you adoration." He takes a moment before dragging out my name from his lips. It makes my stomach roll even further and my body tense tighter.

The Dream Lord takes my thighs into his hands again as he rides the both of us through our peaks, brutal yet caring all at once.

I melt into a bag of boneless flesh the next moment.

When he eventually relents, I catch my breath against his jaw, rubbing my nose on his skin affectionally.

Once he is stagnant above me, he turns to me and places kiss on my lips. After a moment, he pulls away and opens his mouth to speak. He doesn't get to however, as suddenly my bed creaks and all at once, one leg snaps and I squeal as we both slide roughly down to the floor.

I cling onto him for dear life as he pushes up against me, both keeping us from falling any further and poking into the root of my womanhood. My mouth releases a lewd cry in response.

I catch my breath as he lifts his head up and surveys the damage.

"Did you," I pant, "fucking break my bed?"

Dream turns to me, lips barely parting, "I..." he starts, "my apologies."

[insane-thoughts-oftheday]

A (not) so small philosophical interpretation of Odysseus in epic

Disclaimer: I'm doing this analysis for fun, please don't take everything I write as truth, because this text is based on my interpretation and, even though it took some academic research to do it. It's worth remembering that I don't have a degree in philosophy yet, so I can still make mistakes on some points. Another point I want to highlight is that I wrote this text in a language other than English, and there may be some translation errors by Google, so I apologize if anything is confusing or if you have any questions about something, feel free to comment or send an ask, I'll do my best to explain.

(Notice that's basically me as far as you decide to read this blog)

EPIC:the musical is a work that is very present in my life and in the lives of many other people who are reading this little fan outburst; And if you've just stumbled upon this craze and are hearing about it for the first time, a brief summary is that it's a musical, more addictive than drugs, that tells the story of Odysseus, that guy from Greek mythology who spent 20 years trying to get home after the Trojan War, also known as Simp by his wife Penelope. We have moments of joy, sadness, introspection and many fan outbursts caused by the owner of it all, Jorge Rivera-Herrans, who is not only the creator but also the lead singer of this masterpiece, playing Odysseus and a few others.

But let's get back to the analysis here because I could talk about this for hours without stopping.

A few months ago, when the Underworld saga was released, I remembered the phrase:

"If you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you."

This phrase was written by Nietzsche in the book Beyond Good and Evil, and it reminds me a lot of the Odysseus we see in EPIC, although the phrase is incomplete in the previous quote, even though it is the most common one we see being spread around. The original is:

“Whoever fights monsters should take care that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you.”

And I also remember thinking about that phrase by Heraclitus, which I think everyone has heard, probably incompletely, at some point in school:

“No one can step into the same river twice, for when he steps into it again, the waters are not the same, and the being itself has already changed. Thus, everything is governed by dialectics, the tension and the alternation of opposites. Therefore, reality is always the result of change, that is, of the struggle between opposites.”

In my opinion, I think that both phrases fit well with the version of the character that we see starring in the entire musical, since most ancient myths and poems have different versions and translations and of course Jorge took some artistic liberties; Odysseus is a Greek hero who fights against many monsters, both mythical and internal, taking into account his ethics as a person while trying to survive and return home.

I think it's interesting to point out that from here on I'll use some different terms, but I'll do my best to explain them.

We can see that throughout all the sagas Odysseus is describing the line of what it is to be human and how one can easily slip off it; this line is located between the definition of gods and monsters/animals and is known as Metron, which gave rise to the word measure, and here we will use it as a synonym for limit for something. It's also good to say that metron has nothing to do with a person's morals/character, because it's a question of ethics.

Morals are the set of rules that concern good and evil, right and wrong. These standards refer to values ​​that are passed down from generation to generation and guide the conduct of individuals in their daily lives. (personal)

Ethics is a field of philosophy whose object of study is the principles that guide morality. In this sense, ethics is a philosophical reflection on morality, approaching the universal principles that govern the common good and coexistence between human beings in general. (common sense)

In my opinion about the musical, the issue of gods and monsters is not so different. For me, in that context, monsters and gods are the same thing, since they are outside the ideal of humanity, but this point may be mentioned later.

Metron is not a knowledge, it is, above all, the limit between impossibility and weakness.

We can see in several Greek myths that human beings like to cross this line, most stories end in tragedy because of this, human beings can also be called “Hybris” which is an excess, it is being hybrid, having two natures, acting in two ways, it is being in the Metron and trying to be something that one is not, because thinking that we can be more than men is arrogance, and arrogance is a human emotion, another story that exemplifies this well is the myth of Oedipus who tries to overcome his destiny given by the gods and ends up fulfilling it anyway.

Hybris is a Greek concept that can be translated as "everything that goes beyond the measure; "immoderation" and which currently alludes to excessive confidence, exaggerated pride, presumption, arrogance or insolence (originally against the gods), which often ends up being punished.

It is worth noting that hybris would in no way be a sin, in the concept of the word and the ideal current translation for it would be "Hamartia", which by chance is also no longer used in its original meaning because of the Catholic Church.

Now going to the interesting part because I was just giving context of terms.

In The Horse and the Infant, we 'meet' our beloved version of Odysseus, where during the Trojan War he states that everything he is doing is for his wife Penelope and his son Telemachus, using this as a way to inspire his men to carry out the massacre that he himself did not want to participate in, I think because of his moral nature, the proof is so much that in Homer's original Odyssey, he pretends to be crazy so as not to show up when called, unfortunately he is unmasked and forced to go.

We also see here that up until now Odysseus is still a very moral character, he has his reasons for being there, he, like the other warriors, has a family and his deepest desire is to return to them. So with this we can conclude that he is still just a man, he is human.

In the same song we see how far his morality goes, as he receives the divine mission to kill the young Trojan prince, Astyanax, who is just a baby, due to the threat that one day he will want revenge on him and his kingdom.

All of this creates doubts in Odysseus, about the morality of gods and men. Here we see him crossing the line and this whole text begins to be about ethics, as it is common sense that killing a child is a monstrous act, but for him not to kill means that his family will die in a more horrendous way later and he cannot let that happen.

Then we have the monologue in Just a Man, the best song, where we can really see the doubts mentioned earlier. And one detail that I find very interesting and that will be important for this text is that in Gigi's animatic, we can see Odysseus' "monster" being 'born' and its source is the baby and his doubts about whether he would really be a monster just for that, even though at that moment the baby is still just a human, the mission to kill him little by little makes him a monster due to the possibility that one day he himself will commit several atrocities.

It's fun for me to think that representing 'the monster' as a tree could be an allusion to the fact that trees take as long to grow as a monster takes to be formed by man.

I think you now understand part of Nietzsche's quote. Odysseus looking at his own reflection and not recognizing himself, seeing the monster he will become if he crosses the metronome is very well treated in several animatics, but the most visible is in Gigi's where he is not only referenced but shown as a completely different being both in attitudes and thoughts.

I'll just pause to say that I love how Gigi did the work of showing the tree growing in the shape of a skull, which could be the deaths that the monster will bring or that it is a macabre thing to do, I don't know, I just love this detail for some reason.

And also how I think that makes a point of showing that the real problem is not the baby but rather Odysseus' unethical thoughts developing because of his doubts.

Ok, end of the pause and start of a mini explanation.

I didn't think this analysis would be so long and in my original thought I was only going to end up mentioning a few songs and focusing more on "No Longer You" and "Monster" but it ended up getting out of control and listening to the musical again it seems like I can make a lot of connections that I hadn't thought of before but now I can't express them properly, so from now on there will be a gigantic gap in content that I might fill later in another post or by editing this one, but at the moment thinking too much about it is giving me a headache and I really wanted to be able to post this now along with the Wisdom Saga because it's something I did for fun from fan to fan and I know that now the fandom is busier. One day I swear I'll do a complete analysis relating song by song, but not today for the sake of my mental health.

End of explanation, subject change.

Going through his entire journey, Ody goes to the underworld after Tiresias who reveals that he will never return home, which makes him indignant, I think any human would be, how much he suffered to get there for nothing. Here we can see how Heraclitus fits into the prophet, and as much as I hate cutting philosophical phrases in half, I don't think I need to use the whole thing to make sense of it here, because the most well-known part of it is enough to get to the point discussed here, since it really won't be him who returns to Ithaca, but rather another man, a man haunted by his own past and by the ethics of his people.

There is no way a man who spent 20 years away from home, suffering for the divine and for his own mind, can be the same, because this is a human characteristic, humans are hybrid beings, which implies that we can change our own nature while gods and monsters will always follow the same line of thought, since they are perfect they do not need drastic changes to live as they are.

That's it. So finally we have the mental breakdown where Ody begins to accept that it doesn't matter if he is a monster to everyone, he did what was necessary. He looked into the abyss and was looked back. He becomes the monster, even if he compares himself to the other divine creatures, which I think he never really learned to differentiate from humans, because Ody my friend there is no way you can really reach the level of a cyclops or a god with a wounded ego, or a traumatized nymph, time makes things very trivial for them and let's face it you will not live even half as long as they do because you are just a mortal.

And I don't know how to make gifs so here are some prints to illustrate the last paragraph. But before that I wanted to thank you if you read this far, I know the ending was kind of bad but I'm emotionally tired, I hope I at least conveyed the idea that was in my head. Thank you and stream the new saga!!!!

(All arts belong to gigi!! go check out this amazing work!!!)

[archiveikemen]

Liam Evans 2nd Birthday Campaign: Story

Chapters 1—3

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection; expect mistakes, grammatical errors, and some creative liberties. All original content and media used belongs to Cybird. Please support the game by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

Read this before interacting

One night, a few hours before his birthday.

Liam: Are you ready, Kate?

Kate: Yes, sorry for keeping you waiting. 

I thought back to something that happened a few nights ago—. 

= Flashback Start = 

Kate: Nn…

Liam: Sorry, did I wake you?

I was woken up by Liam’s gentle voice as he climbed into bed like a cat. 

Kate: It’s okay, welcome back.

I reached my arms out to hug him and my eyes narrowed from the feeling of his body warmth, when— 

Kate: … You smell nice.

There was a delicious smell coming from his clothes. 

Kate: Did you eat something, Liam?

It wasn’t the first time he went out at night. 

(Before we started dating, it seemed that he had to regularly go outside and satisfy his curiosity.) 

(But after we started dating, he did that less frequently and stopped doing dangerous things.)

I thought that going out at night was a way for him to distract himself a little because he couldn’t sleep, but…

(Why did he come back smelling this delicious…?)

Liam: I didn't eat anything… maybe the smell from the food stalls clung to me. 

Liam: There’s a nighttime event happening in London for a week, starting from today. 

Liam: I passed through the market where the food stalls were, so I think that's why I smell like them.

Liam: The smell must be bothering you. Sorry, I’ll leave right away. 

I grabbed his hand as he was about to get off the bed and buried my face in his clothes. 

Kate: … Now I’m hungry.

I couldn't help but laugh. He happily hugged me again and narrowed his eyes tenderly.

Kate: I wish I went with you.

Liam: I wanted to go with you too.

Liam: How about we go together?

…

Liam: Shall we get going?

As we walked hand in hand, I recalled the conversation we had about his birthday present.

(Knowing how he is, I didn’t expect Liam to directly say what he wanted…) 

Liam said that going out together was his birthday present. 

(But I still want to make him happy and give him something.)

After giving it some thought, I had an idea and decided to put it into action. 

…

Kate: Wow…!

The bustling market lined with various stalls lit up the night. 

Liam: There may be a lot of people here, but it’s still night time. Don’t stray too far from me, okay?

He took my hand, and we walked along the street filled with delicious smells and cheerful sounds. 

Kate: They have alcohol, fish and chips, pie, and even scones.

Liam: They’re selling sausages and other meat dishes too.

Kate: And there’s gelato over there! 

We chatted happily while exploring the stalls, but—

Liam: Ah, I thought you’d like this pie, Kate.

Liam: Those limited edition cookies over there look lovely, I think you’ll like them too.

Liam: These cocktails are low in alcohol content, so they're suitable for you to drink. 

Kate: … You sure know a lot, don't you, Liam?

He scratched his cheek and smiled bashfully, narrowing his eyes. 

Liam: I memorised those things because I’m always thinking about you.

(I truly am the luckiest person alive…)

His words brought me joy, and his actions conveyed his love for me.

Liam: How is it? Does it taste good?

I nodded repeatedly with a mouth full of meat pie.

Seeing this, he looked satisfied and ate his pie, however—

Kate: Liam, you have something on your mouth… 

Liam: Kate, you have something on your mouth…

Both of us reached out at the exact same time to brush away the crumbs from the corners of each other’s mouths.

Our eyes met and we blinked at each other in silence. 

It was him who burst out laughing first.

Liam: Haha! We were thinking the same thing.

Kate: Fufu, even our timing was the same.

Liam: We might really be getting increasingly similar to each other recently. 

Kate: We even bought the same food the other day. 

When I went home with new items from the bakery, I saw him waiting for me with the same items. 

When I was mentioning places I wanted to go on dates, he suggested the exact same spots… 

(I feel so much joy whenever such things happen.)

After laughing together for a while, he caressed my cheek.

Liam: … I guess this is what they call “feeling blessed”. 

Liam: It looks like our worlds revolve around each other. 

Liam: I can’t contain my happiness whenever I realise that.

I wrapped my hand over the one caressing my cheek and lowered my gaze. 

Kate: I feel happy and blessed too. 

Kate: Wonderful, isn’t it? We’re always thinking about each other.

We smiled and gently embraced each other,

Liam: … You’re a natural at making me happy, Kate.

Kate: Fufu… and you’re a natural at making me happy. 

The sound of his laughter in my ear filled me with joy once again.

Liam: I feel like kidnapping you right this instant and take you straight to bed. 

Kate: Before you do that, I want to buy a cake first.

Liam: Could it be… my birthday cake?

Kate: Yes. Shall we choose one together?

I was sure he would be happy with anything if I were the one choosing or baking it. 

(But Liam isn’t a fan of sweets, so it might be better to get a smaller cake.) 

Liam: … Yeah, I want to choose one together with you.

Kate: There’s a cake shop over there.

Kate: Let’s go, Liam. 

The way he squinted as if dazzled by a bright light the moment I took his hand left an impression on me. 

= Flashback End = 

Kate: … Liam, you’re upset, aren't you?

He paced around with light, cat-like steps while carrying me in his arms and suddenly stopped.

Liam: I’m not.

His lips didn't form a smile, causing me to feel guilty and reflect on my actions a few hours ago.

= Flashback Start = 

Kate: This is all we could get. Are you really okay with it, Liam?

Liam: Yeah. I like this cake better, actually.

The cake shop had such a busy day that only small cupcakes were left.

(This is a little too plain for a birthday cake…) 

While I was thinking of wanting to somehow bring a birthday feeling to the moment, something caught my eye.

Kate: Liam, I’m going to get a little something from that shop over there. 

Not wanting to disturb him while he was browsing other shops, I let go of his hand after saying that. 

He frantically tried holding my hand again, but— 

Kate: It’s okay, the shop’s just over there. 

Since the shop was only a short distance away, I started walking towards it before he could grab my hand. 

The instant I turned around after buying what I wanted,

Kate: … Liam?

There was a sudden crowd of people passing by and before I knew it, he was out of my sight.

Just as I was desperately searching for him in the crowd, I felt my body being lifted off the ground…

= Flashback End = 

(We somehow managed to reunite and return home, but…)

According to the hands on the clock, it was almost dawn. Yet, I still hadn't been able to say happy birthday to him.

As I was gently set down on the edge of the bed, I glaced up at him standing in front of me.

Seeing the sadness in his eyes caused guilt to well up in me again. 

Liam: … Had I held your hand properly, you wouldn't have gotten lost. 

= Flashback Start =

Liam: There may be a lot of people here, but it’s still night time. Don’t stray too far from me, okay?

= Flashback End =

(I should've known that Liam would put the blame on himself instead of me.) 

Feeling ashamed of myself, I once again held the hand I had let go off. 

Kate: It’s not your fault, Liam! … I’m so sorry for worrying you.

His voice was trembling as he hugged me tightly, his eyes shaking. 

Liam: Don’t ever leave my side again.

Kate: … Okay. 

While we were feeling each other's warmth, 

Liam: ah…

He noticed the time and pulled away.

Liam: I didn’t realise it at all. 

I took a cupcake and something else out of a paper bag and lit it.

It was a candle in the shape of a rose. 

Kate: Happy birthday, Liam.

His eyes wavered as he accepted the cupcake. 

Kate: I’m so happy to celebrate your birthday again this year.

Kate: Thank you for being born. 

Liam: … You left to buy this? 

I nodded with a wry smile, and he bit his lip before smiling softly and closing his eyes.

Liam: … Thank you, Kate. 

Bit by bit, he started speaking the words he had been hiding in his heart.

Liam: Before I met you, I was always afraid of celebrating my birthday. 

Liam: I used to think that as long as I never know what this happiness feels like, I won’t feel sad when it disappears. 

I was reminded of the things he said when sharing his true feelings on his birthday last year.

= Flashback Start =

Liam: I… I was terrified of being celebrated… and knowing how it feels to have a birthday with you in it…

Liam: I was foolish and all I could think of was the possibility of me losing all of that… it scared me.

Liam: But if I keep running away… I’ll be trampling all over your kindness and feelings.

Liam: I don't have any other option but to choose this moment, because I just love you so much. 

= Flashback End =

The rose-shaped candle melted away, like it was shedding one petal at a time.

Liam: … There might come a day when, like this candle, all these happy moments will melt away. 

Liam: But I can’t go back to spending birthdays without you, and I don't think I can ever let go of your hand. 

He blew out the candle and it turned into something shaped like a flower bud.

Liam: Next year, the year after that, and until the day I die… will you celebrate my birthday by my side?

He brushed his finger across my lips as he made a wish for a future we had yet to see. 

Kate: … Of course I will. I’ll be right here by your side, celebrating your birthday even if you say you don’t want me to. 

Kate: I’ll keep doing that until the day you can finally say from the bottom of your heart that you’re glad you were born. 

I heard a slight gasp as I pressed the cupcake to his lips. 

Kate: Let’s eat, Liam. 

(Liam still struggles with his birthday.)

I can’t save the person who lived through his painful past. 

(I sometimes find myself wondering why couldn’t we have met sooner…)

(But I’m sure there’s a reason for us to only meet now.)

It's because I’ve set my heart on loving all his past wounds and living by his side.

Liam: … Kate.

Kate: Nn.

He stole a kiss from my lips after taking a bite of the cupcake.

Liam: Is it sweet?

Kate: … It became sweeter because of you. 

He kicked the cream from the corners of my mouth, looking amused—.

Liam: I’m not a fan of sweets, but I want to see more of your sweet expressions.

He deepened the kiss and we fell onto the bed. 

Kate: Liam, wait a second.

Liam: I can’t wait anymore.

He undid the ribbon at the back of my shirt, causing it to fall off my shoulders.

As he took off my skirt, he reached for his own shirt as well.

Liam: I want you right now. 

I was enveloped by the sweet smell of vanilla, tempting me to give into him on the spot, but—.

Kate: I want to give you your present! 

I slipped out from under him and reached under the bed.

Liam: … Don’t tell me, you’ve been hiding it there?

I lifted up a large paper bag with two hands and showed it to him, who was still in shock on the bed.

Kate: You never noticed, did you?

(It was the right decision to hide it before we headed out.)

Kate: Now close your eyes.

Following my instructions, he closed his eyes. I stood on the bed and swiftly ripped open the paper bag.

Liam: Wha…

He looked up and at the same time, a shower of flower petals rained down on him.

Liam: Wow… petals!? 

The pink petals fell over his head like blessings, scattering onto the white sheets. 

In an instant, Liam and the bed were covered in petals. I couldn't contain my smile of satisfaction.

Kate: These are the petals of the modern roses you’ve always been giving me. 

Kate: I thought of expressing my gratitude by giving you a bouquet.

Kate: But apparently, pink roses have another meaning to them.

Liam: Another meaning…?

I picked up one petal from his head.

Kate: It means “happiness”. 

Kate: I wanted to shower you with petals signifying gratitude and happiness, because you’ve given me an abundance of them. 

Sitting on the bed surrounded by the smell of roses, he fell silent for a moment before chuckling and squinting his eyes as though faced with a bright light. 

Liam: I truly am so blessed.

I leaned in and was about to kiss his forehead covered with rose petals, when— 

Kate: Whoa!

Liam: Are you okay!? 

I slipped and fell right into his chest. 

Kate: T-this is embarrassing…

I got on my knees to support my body, he wrapped one arm around my waist and cupped my cheek with the other.

When I lifted my head, I saw that the light of dawn was starting to shine into the room. 

Liam: I’ve always wanted to be a star.

Still smiling, he started to speak.

Liam: I thought that everyone would love me if I shined brightly enough. But then I realised, I can’t just turn into a star.

Liam: Because today, you’re the one shining so bright. I’ve always thought so, but you’re especially dazzling today.

(Ah…) 

I recalled noticing him gazing at me while squinting his eyes as though dazzled by a bright light. 

Liam: You gave me love that was once so out of reach for me, and made my days so bright with happiness that it’s almost terrifying. 

Liam: The name of the brightest star in my world is Kate. It shines so brightly and is precious to me beyond words. 

Liam: It’s you.

His smile as his joy and love overflowed was so bright, it made me squint my eyes. 

There was a star right there before my eyes. 

Kate: For me, you’re that star, Liam. 

Kate: The person who brings me so much joy and love… you’re my brightest star.

We laughed together and it was soon dawn. 

Liam: Well then, because I want to hold onto my brightest star…

With the arm wrapped around my waist, he gently laid me down onto the bed and I rested my body against his. 

Liam: Even after the night fades into day, stay shining in my arms.

My heart hammered against my chest as I closed my eyes and waited for a kiss. 

— We were each other’s brightest stars, shining brightly through our love. 

[for-some-reason]

Hi! So, I saw that you have your requests for bakugou x reader open?

(I honestly have no idea how this works, this is my first time asking for something like this, so pardon me if I phrase anything wrong)

Could you perhaps write smth for a pro hero bakugou and an interpreter reader, who has just enough of a bite to work with the guy? Like, when he goes international level and has to interact with foreign media a lot and bonds with the reader over work??

That would be lovely, and if you don't like the request feel free to ignore!

Thank you for being my first request!! This was an awesome idea and i really hope I did it justice! I thinkkk I kinda took a couple liberties of my own though

Lost In Interpretation

Out of all the people you’ve had to work with, and you’ve worked with a lot over the years of being an interpreter, you had to say Dynamight was probably the hardest to get along with.

You couldn’t stand the guys attitude. Sure, you found him attractive– who didn’t? – but he made your job so much harder with his foul mouth.

That’s not what truly makes it hard, though. It’s his incessant demands to translate the foul stuff he says. Others understand you need to maintain professionalism or the magazines and stations you help translate for have certain censorships and with a bashful smile they’ll apologize and correct themselves.

But when you told Dynamight he couldn’t curse the way he does?

“Eh? I’m 25 years old, I’m gonna fuckin’ curse if I want to. And ain't your job to just translate what I say? So translate.”

“No, actually.”

“Hah?”

“I don’t translate what you say, I interpret it. There’s a clear distinction between translators and interpreters, and I just won’t allow myself to repeat what you say! So fix your language!”

So much for professionalism.

You breathe in and out a little heavily and can feel your face begin to burn. Dynamight has the gall to smirk at you like the situation was humorous.

“Is that right?”

And, without even knowing it, you sealed your fate to months of somehow always being assigned to him and his desire to fuck with you.

It became like a game, it seemed. To be as dirty-mouthed as possible and watch you practically grow red in the face as you had to interpret what he said to the poor people interviewing him. It was getting almost ridiculous how many interviews Dynamight was agreeing to, and you were sure you could count how many he did before you met on one hand in all his pro-hero career. You hated to admit it, but you liked the idea of him agreeing to them to be with you. As if you somehow caught the attention of a rising pro-hero. Of Bakugo Katsuki himself.

But there was no way he was agreeing to interviews just for that, right?

Right. You couldn't be that vain.

It was on one of these days, however, that the pro-hero himself stopped you from leaving your current workplace.

“Wait a second, will ya?” You hear a familiar voice call behind you as you walk towards the elevator. You turn around and are met with Dynamight.

You wait patiently for some sort of follow up, but you realize you’re not getting one when he stares at you. He looks a bit constipated, but he’s typically pretty grumpy.

“Yes?” You try to subtly push.

He grunts. “This is fuckin’ stupid. Look, are you single?”

“Am I… single?” You repeat, slowly, like you don’t know Japanese all too well. Suddenly the years spent becoming fluent in the language feel like only a couple days, or a 10-minute video for tourists wanting to learn a couple phrases. Your legs feel a little weak, too.

“Don’t make me repeat myself. This is damn embarrassing.”

“Why? Why do you want to know something like that? Do you even know my name?”

Dynamight’s brows furrow and he frowns. It was the wrong thing to say evidently.

He repeats your full name back to you. “Who the fuck do ya take me for? You think I’m gonna ask somebody out without even knowin’ their name?”

“You’re asking me out.”

“Do you forget Japanese as soon as you're done with your work? I’m askin’ you out. Do you wanna accept?”

“Yeah! I mean, yeah, that sounds nice, Dyna–”

“Bakugo.” He cuts in.

“...That sounds nice, Bakugo.”

[puffyducks]

DCRC Week #2

What if I started putting silly thumbnail images on these posts what if that was a thing that I started to do

Anyways this week is PKNA #0.2 here we gooo- THIS POST IS REALLY LONG SO OPEN AT YOUR OWN RISK

OK so I'm running a bit of an experiment this week - which is to say that in between this week and last week's reading I bought all the English copies of PKNA that exist (there's only 6) and I know the official translations took more creative liberties than the fan translations (which from what I understand are more direct) SO I'll be reading both a physical official English copy of this chapter AND pulling up the fan translation at the same time to compare and contrast noticeable differences in dialogue. Also that's why some of the photos will be screenshots and some will just be me taking actual photos of a comic book lol.

Right off the bat the official English has Scrooge calling Donald a muttonhead which I think is the superior insult here. Also he gets fancy red text in this panel

All of Uno's text is green as well, which is a fun touch! (It's subtle on camera just trust me on this one)

snoozer male confirmed 🛌

DARN TOOTIN!!!!! See, they had to capture the American audiences by making Donald sound as much like a cowboy as possible (it's working on me so far yeehaw 🤠)

First of all, rude. Second of all, is it his aunt or his mom you need to make up your mind buddy. THIRD of all, PK calling him "king ugly" is giving "Darkwing calls Taurus Bulba 'fatboy' in Darkly Dawns the Duck because he can't think of a better comeback." YEAH WELL YOUR MOM-

I THOUGHT HE JUST CALLED HIM A CUCK

Raider has this weird laugh going on that I think is supposed to make him sound like a rooster? Either way he needs to be stopped

OK AND I GUESS ANGUS FANGUS ALSO GETS HIS OWN LAUGH ON ACCOUNT OF BEING A KIWI??? WHAT IS HAPPENING 😭THIS ISN'T FUCKING ONE PIECE (also sorry for there being a glare on like all my photos the lighting in my room is really strong ok)

Dork Avenger.... he's never going to recover from this

she knows

NO FUCKIG WAY IS THAT A REFERENCE TO DARKWING DU- also that fuckass laugh again

The fan translation references Mouseton so I guess buy the official English copy if you prefer references to Darkwing Duck over Mickey Mouse

Ok so they're definitely NOT shooting him with tranquilizers but I appreciate the effort. Y'know despite the fact that the officer is still just holding a regular gun

This is also the ONLY coloring difference I've noticed so far, which is that the bullets are now yellow instead of blue. Is that supposed to mean they're tranquilizer bullets??? Is it somehow less violent if the bullets are yellow now??? What are they, banana flavored??? Idk

What?? Nooo... Lyla is a totally normal human woman. I mean duck.

Who the fuck is Lyla Lee

Ok I guess he's Red Raider now instead of just THE Raider

I'm living for the more ~flowery~ dialogue in the official copy. HOLY HONK!

CAPTAIN CLOWNSHOE!! YOU POMPOUS WHOMP!!!

The folds of spacetime say happy pride month 💖🏳️‍🌈

SWEET FUDGYJIGGERS!!!

YOU MEAN LIKE A TIMEPHOON?!?!?!?

oh my god what if the robots kissed

I don't know if I'm gonna do the comparison thing for the upcoming 4 issues cause this took me like 2 hours to make this post lol (also I hit the image limit and had to combine a bunch of them into one). The major difference between the dialogues I noticed is that the official dialogue is a lot more flamboyant with its language (and Donald says a lot more insults). They also snuck in a few more pop culture references.

This has been an epic Live Puffy Reaction hope you enjoyed. That's all I got.

[futurebritishgentleman]

so i saw an old drawing meme on pixiv the other day. some of the filled out versions were REALLY good. i don't see drawing memes that often in fandom nowadays and that's a crime so i took the liberty of translating it!

but then i decided since this meme is from 2011 it's lacking a few characters. so i added MORE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

and here's a transparent version for convenience if you wanna get funky with the bg:

now go. draw your favs badly without reference and tag me so i can see your beautiful creations