#japanese is my third language

[koa-z]

not me reading bnha in Japanese and tearing up at the part in chapter 1 where All Might says "You too can be a hero!" bc I read it!

I can read and understand the whole manga! I know that my ability to speak and read Japanese is still worse than most native-speaking preschoolers, but it's been a dream of mine to learn the language literally since I was twelve. I had to wait until college to take any classes, because there just weren't options before then (I tried to self teach, but only got so far on my own).

Throughout my studies, I struggled a lot with self-deprication. Even as I passed tests, I was still beating myself up in my head. I was still thoroughly convinced that I could never read it since I've got some learning disabilities and the number of unique Kanji was daunting. Ultimately, I didn't really try to learn to read because I convinced myself that I could never do it. I did it enough to pass tests, but it never really stuck because my brain dumps info that it learns when stressed. I've since graduated, and I decided to study it again, because I want so badly to be able to read it-

And I can! I can do it! I can read this entire manga in its native language! This is the most amazing feeling on the planet! I'm literally crying in sync with Midoriya Izuku, bc my dreams are being realized on the page where All Might is telling him that his dreams can be made a reality. You guys.

(For reference, linguistics are my special interest).

[mxystan]

taiwan travelogue by yang shuangzi tr. lin king is indeed an award-winning banger and perhaps the first time in my life i've ever felt vindicated for dual-wielding a novel with its english translation because the act of translation itself is such a big theme in the novel. big win for metafiction-obsessed himejin everywhere!!

[vashtijoy]

"why not join me instead?" akechi's "invitation" in conf 7

People come and go on whether this question of Akechi's is genuine or not. Opinions run the gamut from "I hate him for trying to take you away from your friends" to "Akechi wants Joker to be his accomplice".

Myself, I don't think Akechi means this as a serious question, for a number of reasons. I think this question is rhetorical.

Quick summary:

Conf 7 illustrates the similarity between Joker and Akechi, and that they're both committed to the showdown between them;

Rather than being an invitation, Akechi's question again illustrates that parallel—that neither of them will give up the things that matter to them to join the other, as Joker has asked him to do;

"I'll think about it" does not count towards the third awakening—and I can prove it. Rather, Akechi can't conceive that Joker would ever abandon his friends, and uses it as an outrageous example of something Joker would never do;

Joker's loyalty not only to his principles but to his friends is something Akechi values so much that he won't let Joker sacrifice it;

Akechi is not so much offering Joker a way out in conf 7 (there is no way out) as he's confirming for his own sake that Joker is still in the game. Is this still a battle between rivals, or is it an execution?

Let's take a look.

what is akechi really asking?

[long post is long]

Look at this line. Look at the question he's posing:

Akechi いっそ君がこっちに来るってのは?⋯今の仲間を捨ててさ。 isso kimi ga kocchi ni kuru tte no wa?... ima no nakama o sutete sa Why not join me instead...? All you'd have to do is abandon the teammates you have now.

It's very easy to focus on the first half of this question and miss the second. But that second half is the important part, the sting in the tail. The Japanese is a great example of wa building suspense: "Instead, what if you come over to my side, (AND THEN WHAT, AKECHI???????)"

The sentence is left hanging, with the weight of it unspoken (since wa emphasises what comes after it); Akechi is obviously not done speaking. And indeed, when he continues, it's a doozy:

"though, of course, you'd have to dump the friends you have now." (Yes, I think "friends" is often a much better translation of nakama than "teammates", fight me; it's even often translated as "friend" in P5 itself, or indeed, awkwardly, as "teammates and friends".)

Akechi is using the same verb, suteru, that you use for tossing something in the trash; the parallel meaning, "ending a relationship", exists in Japanese too.

Ryuji, Morgana, Ann, Yusuke, Makoto, Futaba, Haru, everything you've all gone through together and everything you've been—Akechi is suggesting you toss them aside like garbage. For him.

Now, I think part of Akechi would very much like Joker to do that. But he also knows better than to expect it. Because he knows Joker so much better than that.

Akechi has seen firsthand how loyal Joker is to his friends—remember on 1/2 how he says he investigated them all? He's seen some of the things Joker will do for them. He expects that blind faith to lead Joker to his death, much as Yaldabaoth does. But he also respects it.

This boy who's never had a friend, who's convinced himself the whole idea is stupid, is still drawn to the loyalty he sees in Joker. Even as he's preparing his own ultimate betrayal, Akechi recognises Joker's commitment to others. He understands treachery is bad, even though he himself is a traitor—just as he understands that murder is bad, and that doesn't stop him, either.

This question of whether or not Joker will betray his friends (and Akechi specifically) comes back on 2/2, of course—and in force.

so why does he ask

Akechi is not proposing that the two of them run off together. He's not asking to see what Joker will say. He doesn't impulsively make the invitation, and then run away when Joker says yes. He is, in fact, not even asking. He poses the idea of Joker abandoning all his friends as a counterexample. It's supposed to be something Joker would never consider, something he will find morally repugnant.

Which is why, if Joker says yes, Akechi is shocked, and essentially tells Joker not to make such stupid spur-of-the-moment decisions. Akechi is making a rhetorical point about what Joker is asking of him.

Remember Joker's statement that leads into Akechi's question:

Yeah. Joker either suggests that Akechi should give up everything he's doing and everything he believes in (even as Akechi confabulates about what those things really are), or he suggests, with the top option, that he's already done it.

And in return, Akechi says that Joker should join him... and throw away his friends and everything he's working for and everything he believes in, of course.

It's the second response to his question, where Joker turns him down flat, that makes it most obvious that this was what Akechi meant:

Joker それは無理だ sore wa muri da I'm not doing that. No way in hell. Akechi だろうね。 darou ne I thought as much. Akechi 分かるだろ、誰だって今の立場を簡単に捨てられやしないんだよ wakaru daro, dare datte ima no tachiba o kantan ni suterare yashinai n da yo I'm sure you understand. We all have our parts to play, and we can't simply leave those behind.

See what he's saying? ima no tachiba o kantan ni suterare yashinai—"we absolutely must not lightly set aside the positions we hold now".

Incidentally, yes, that's that same verb suteru that he used before, for casting aside or throwing away. Akechi is drawing a parallel between Joker's friends and his own goals—between the things each of them holds most dear, which neither of them will sacrifice, even to save the other. (Assuming you think Akechi would even be down to save Joker—but I do think conf 7 suggests that at this point, he might not be opposed to the possibility. It's just that it doesn't exist.)

the phone call

This parallel returns in the phone call afterwards, if you again tell him that you're rivals:

It's a little hard to tell from the localisation what Akechi is getting at, so let's take a close look:

Akechi 僕らにはお互い譲れないものがあって、そのためにも負けられない。 bokura ni wa otagai yuzurenai mono ga atte, sono tame ni mo makerarenai [lit. for both of us, these are things we cannot compromise on, and because of those things we cannot suffer losing.] Neither of us can afford to lose, because we fight in service of our principles. It's the same for both of us. Neither of us can afford to lose, because of these principles we won't concede. Akechi ⋯だからこそ、もしも君が自分を曲げたりしたら絶対に赦さないよ。 ... dakara koso, moshi mo kimi ga jibun o megetari shitara zettai ni yurusanai yo [lit. that's exactly why, if you were to warp yourself [that way], I would absolutely never let such a sin (t/n: note the kanji) pass.] And that is precisely why... I cannot allow you to change. ... And that's precisely why, if you betrayed yourself that way... I couldn't allow it. Akechi だって、僕が負けたくないのは『君』なんだから。 datte, boku ga maketakunai no wa "kimi" nan da kara [lit. it's you as you are now who I do not want to lose to.] As you are now, as you think now... I cannot allow you to win over me. The person you are now, with those principles, and that determination—that's the one I won't ever allow to beat me.

Here's my attempt at a translation again, so you can see it all together:

Akechi: It's the same for both of us. Neither of us can afford to lose, because of these things we won't concede. Akechi: ...And that's precisely why, if you betrayed yourself that way... I couldn't allow it. Akechi: The person you are now, with those principles, and that determination—that's the one I won't ever allow to beat me.

It turns out that this phone conversation, that was originally quite mystical-sounding and hard to follow (what were you trying to say, Akechi?) is quite straightforward. It ties into to his original question. "Will I join you, Joker? Well, what if you join me instead? Just throw away all your little friends for my sake? Of course you won't—because we're the same. Both of us have things we can't give up, no matter what—and if you tried to do that, I wouldn't let you, because I value you as you are...."

This parallel between the two of them is what conf 7 is about, from the text message that opens it to the phone call that concludes it:

It's the same thing again: neither of you can afford to lose, because you're fighting for your principles. The billiard table is the stage for this wider discussion.

The billiard scene, of course, is interesting for another reason—Akechi is giving Joker a chance to back out; he's testing his commitment, and perhaps hinting that he never intended to be quite where he is, either. He states at the outset that he's being indirect, that what he's saying is a metaphor—and then closes that metaphor with a very direct question: "Do you still intend to play this game?"

Akechi それでも君は、このゲームを降りる気はないの? sore demo kimi wa, kono geemu o oriru ki wa nai no? Even then... do you still intend to play this game? But despite all of that, you still won't fold, will you?

The Japanese is even more specific: Akechi asks Joker if he intends to fold—not whether he still wants to play, but whether he means to give up entirely! "This can't be what you expected, so how about it? Will you just give up? Does this mean as much to you as it does to me? Is this a game we both choose to play, or are you just a victim?"

How much of this is Akechi blowing smoke up his own ass?—casting the fact that he's about to murder the boy in front of him in a glowing, romantic light? Pretty much all of it, I'd say. He's dreamed of having a rival, someone to compete with who challenges him, but what he's got is quite a bit more than that.

Again, the rival imagery is what allows Akechi not only to accept this close relationship, but to frame it as a life-or-death contest that only one of them can win. It confirms to him that what Lavenza describes as "a truly unfair game" is actually fair. It's about making Joker's murder seem as much Joker's fault as his own.

but what happens if you say yes?

Despite all of this, you can choose to have Joker consider Akechi's "offer"—to discard Ryuji, Morgana, Ann, Yusuke, Makoto, Futaba and Haru like trash, and assist Akechi instead. It's tempting, I know.

I don't personally get the impression that Akechi likes this response, for a number of reasons. None of the three responses to his offer score confidant points, but there's something else in play: only one of these responses unlocks his third awakening.

See the F code highlighted in yellow? Only one of these three responses has it. "You're my rival" counts towards the third awakening. Rejecting him, with "I'm not doing that", does not—but more to the point, offering to be with him, with "I'll think about it", also does not!

The issue is confused because a number of us have taken option 1 (or indeed option 2, like me) and still got the third awakening on 2/2. It seems like you need some of the flagged responses, not all of them. But it remains the case that "I'll think about it" does not make Akechi more likely to have his third awakening.

What happens if you take this option?

Joker 考えておく kangaete oku I'll think about it. Akechi へえ、考えてはくれるんだ? hee, kangaete wa kureru n da? Oh? So you'll think about it, at least? What? You mean you'll consider it? Akechi ⋯でも、そういうその場限りの情はやめた方がいい。 ...demo, sou iu sono ba kagiri no jou wa yameta hou ga ii ...But I'd advise you don't say these things without their due consideration. ... Still, it would be better if you didn't trust such fleeting sentiments. Akechi 出来もしない約束はするものじゃないよ。 deki mo shinai yakusoku wa suru mono ja nai yo You shouldn't make promises that you can't keep, anyway. Don't be the sort who promises the earth and walks away.

A few grammar points:

んだ n da on a question demands an explanation; Akechi's question could almost be rendered "Why on earth would you need/want to think about it?"

そういうその場限りの情 sou iu sono ba kagiri no jou—"sentiments that only matter here and now". Essentially, "sentiments that won't last"—or that are makeshift or ad hoc; Joker is making a stupid spur-of-the-moment decision.

yes, 出来もしない約束 deki mo shinai yakusoku translates idiomatically as "promising the earth". The point is not that Joker should not promise; the point is that he shouldn't be the sort of person who promises so much—and then doesn't follow through.

Again, this confidant is all about Akechi's expectations for Joker. It's about the weird belief he has in him, like the belief he has in Shido—that Joker has principles and friends and will stand by them, that those things are important and matter, even if they're diametrically opposed to Akechi's principles and the things he wants.

The fact that they foil each other in this way is a large part of what makes Joker such a worthy opponent for Akechi. So if Joker turns around and says, sure, Akechi, I'll dump all my friends so we can make out?

Akechi does not like that. He thinks better of him!—he loses respect if Joker offers this. Even if that little line about "promising the earth" suggests that, actually, yeah, he would quite like for the two of them to run away together—if only they lived in a world where it was possible.

what about "you're my rival"?

I've discussed this line before, but let's go into it for completeness.

Joker 明智は好敵手だ akechi wa koutekishu da You're my rival. Nah, you're my worthy opponent.

Do you see that Joker names Akechi there? He doesn't just say, "we're worthy opponents", or even "you're my worthy opponent", koutekishu da yo.

No, he picks Akechi out by name, and then tells him exactly what they are to each other. Because wa builds suspense. Akechi wa... (what?! what is he?!) koutekishu da. "I can't run away with you, because I need you to be this to me instead".

And this is the line with the F-code. This is the line that, if you choose it, will build towards Akechi's third awakening—which is centred on his trust in Joker, on the fact that Joker is worthy of that trust.

And how does Akechi respond?

He's astonished. He did not expect this at all, look:

On the left, the top screenshot where he's waiting for your answer; in the centre, the moment of shock, where he's pulled away and dropped his hand and his eyes are wide; on the right, a comparative overlay just to demonstrate that he pulled back.

smiles that aren't smiles

I have a half-assed theory that you can tell when Akechi is really smiling—because the model will smile with him. If you watch, for instance, Ryuji, the model's expressions match the sprite's almost exactly. But if you watch Akechi? Nah, not so much.

Here's an example. Akechi appears to smile quite often through conf 7—but if you glance away from the sprite and textbox to the model, the model is pokerfaced. Five smile sprites on the optimal route through conf 7, and not one of them—not even "you truly are fascinating"—matches the model:

But when you pick "You're my rival"? Suddenly the model's face springs to life:

It's obvious from everything else that this moment is of deep significance to Akechi. But this little detail with the smiles suggests we can confirm it.

and what does he say?

It doesn't take long for him to pull himself together:

Akechi 同意だね、僕らにはなれ合いより対等な関係こそふさわしい。 doui da ne, bokura ni wa nareai yori taitouna kankei koso fusawashii I agree. I think a relationship of equals suits us better than being co-conspirators, anyway...

This is another one that I find unclear in the localisation, so let's have at it.

nareai suggests an illicit or unduly-close union. It suggests "being in bed together" in the business sense—cosying up, colluding, conspiring. It suggests they're working together when they shouldn't be. Jisho uses the screamingly-outdated term "common-law marriage" (what we call "living together") as an example. Essentially, it suggests they're too close—or even co-dependent, in a way that corrupts them both.

In short? Akechi's "co-conspirators", nareai, means "accomplices"—what we might call "murder boyfriends".

taitouna kankei—literally, "an equal relationship"—is a set phrase, and we know what it means. It suggests a relationship where nobody is being cheated; where everyone gets out what they put in. Where the two of them compete on equal terms.

That's a very Akechi way to look at relationships. But it's also a relationship where nobody is in charge; nobody is dominant, and everyone has self-respect. Nobody is chasing after anyone or sacrificing unduly, as either would be if they joined the other. Everyone can be who they are and say what they want. Everyone can say no.

It's the sort of relationship Akechi very notably does not have with Shido. Is it the sort of relationship he has with Joker, when the two of them are hiding so much from each other and lying so much, and there's so much, like, murder going on? Nah. But as an aspiration, as a suggestion of the sort of relationship Akechi would like them to have, alongside everything else he's told us about how he sees the two of them—as similar, as equals and opposites, as bound by their principles, as destined to fight—it's almost touching.

and what does joker think?

Akechi ⋯たとえこの先、何があろうともだ。 ...tatoe kono saki, nani ga arou tomo da ...No matter what else may change. ...No matter what might come next. Akechi それだけの事を言ったんだから、逃げないでよ? sore dake no koto o itta n da kara, nigenaide yo? In any case, what you just said carries great weight. Remember what you decided, and don't run from it. All right? [lit. don't run away just because of what [I/you] said, all right?]

I'm not sure about this. It feels like it should be referring back to Akechi's last line—"don't get cold feet and run away just because I alluded ominously to whatever's coming next, okay?". I guess it could be referring to Joker's commitment, with "You're my rival"? IDK, I'm out on this one, so I'm inclined to give the localisation the benefit of the doubt.

But it doesn't matter. Because the significance of what Joker does next doesn't change:

He nods. Akechi spends the whole confidant hinting that something ominous is coming, and that the two of them are heading to an inevitable confrontation, and Joker nods.

I don't think this is really consistent with interpretations where Joker is a meek little sheep in the interrogation room. Joker might not have chosen this, he might not have wanted it, he might have by far preferred to avoid it. He'd happily back out if Akechi would just drop the whole thing and agree to act sane. But he's committed to it. He agrees to fight.

Remember, conf 7 takes place after Joker hears the murder phone call. He knows what Akechi is. He knows what he's planning. He knows the stakes—and he agrees to play, to face Akechi down.

To quote @nardaviel, that's no sheep. That's a full-on "Phantom Thieves win again, motherfucker" smirk. Joker played Akechi's game, with everything he had—and he played to win.

[hopefully-helpful-daemon]

Dazai: English is CRAZY. Oregano is both a spaghetti leaf topping and a form of paper art!

Kunikida: What is this "paper art" you speak of?

Dazai: That shit where you make cranes and stuff out of folded paper!

Kunikida: ... Dazai.

[windor-truffle]

wait shit do you think they're going to let you change the voice language in the graces remaster??? 👀

[nihongoseito]

How do you stay motivated in self-study?

メッセージありがとうございます！ thank you for asking!

this is an interesting question for me because i've been self-studying for so long...almost 12 years at this point(?!?!). i decided to learn japanese for fun and for no other reason than because i wanted to (i'm a big proponent of "if it sucks, hit da bricks" lol). i was just a kid, so i had no idea at all how much time and effort it would entail, and sometimes i think that back then, if i had known at the time how much studying and studying and more studying it would take for me to become conversationally proficient, i wouldn't have even started. and i'm really, really glad i don't live in that world, where i never decided to self-study because i thought too far into the future and tried to quantify my studying.

so i guess that's my biggest piece of advice, even though it sounds counterintuitive: try not to plan where you're going next or any specific long-term goals, because if you're anything like me, you'll scare yourself off. if you focus just on what's right in front of you—today's kanji, your current textbook, etc.—then you'll have a much easier time remembering why you like japanese (or whatever target language you're working on!). that kind of viewpoint on learning a language makes it really clear that you are building a beautiful structure out of many discrete pieces, not just out of thin air or sheer linguistic osmosis. not only has that attitude kept me motivated, since making decisions as i go always keeps things fresh, but i also genuinely think it's helped me learn better and remember what i've studied.

also, don't be afraid to give up on something, a book or a grammar point or even a whole routine/study plan, and try something else instead. you can always come back to it later, and in my opinion there's no point trying to quantify or quantitatively evaluate your learning in that way. there's absolutely no shame in admitting something is too hard right now. plus, letting yourself feel confident in what you do know is a great boost to motivation—every single little piece is an accomplishment!

does any of that make sense?? this is how i've handled it anyway! ofc, the nature of self-study is that it's different for everyone, but hopefully the things i've said here resonate with some people :) みんな、頑張ってね！！

[fafameow]

Kirby Manpuku Pupupu Fantasy - Volume 11, Chapter 113 English Translation

As soon as I saw that the latest Kirby Manpuku Fantasy manga was about Magolor, I immediately bought it and translated some chapters! I already shared some but only discord, so I thought why not share them here too ^^ I only translated three chapters so far, but I'm definetly going to translate all of them (eventually).

Anyways, here's the link for this chapter:

Mangadex

In this volume first chapter, Kirby and King Dedede are meeting Magolor for the first time! (and a lot funny stuff happens lol)

Happy reading :D

[itwoodbeprefect]

just had the experience of succesfully sounding out แว่นกันแดด in my head, recognizing those sounds ("waen kan daet") as something i'd seen in transliterated script, confidently going "zonnebril!", and then seeing it translated as sunglasses and going wait?? that was wrong?? for a whole two seconds before remembering that no, those words actually do all fit into the same mold, i was just pouring a different language into it by accident

[crystaloregarden]

me ajudar a lingua brasileira e muito dificil 😩

[fuyuteki]

It's incredible seeing SDGs being mentioned in geography class when my first contact with it was in a Charisma song...

[cottonlemonade]

Thinking about how when you first started dating Tendou, he would brag to anyone who would listen and/or wasn’t fast enough to escape, that he landed a foreigner.

He loved all of it. If you ever took a while to find the right word, he patiently waited or encouraged you to mime it - soon having both of you treat these small challenges as impromptu games of charades. A lot of his time was spent staring at the three little dots indicating that you were typing a message, making him expect a novel-length reply only to get a line or two because it simply took you a while to find the correct Japanese spelling, and, no matter what, he melted at every single mispronunciation.

But of course all this love and all his heart eyes couldn’t prevent typical everyday bickering.

“If this was in my native language I’d be kicking your butt right now.”, you muttered, tapping rapidly on your phone’s translation app.

He pursed his lips, waiting. This was a common occurrence now that you had moved in together. Merging of cultures and lifestyles came with different expectations and was bound to lead to some friction.

“The laundry - wait, babe, how do you pronounce this, please?” Your voice turned calm and sweet and you held out your screen to show him the letters. He uncrossed his arms and leaned in to check.

“Which one, my love?”

“The third one.”

“Ah. De-ter-gent.”

“Detegend. Deter-. Ugh, one more time, please?”

“De-“, he began gently in your usual routine of repetition.

“De-“, you echoed.

“Ter-“

“Ter-“

“Gent.”

“Gent.”

“Detergent.”

“Detergent.”

“There you go! Perfect!”

He gave you a kiss on the forehead and took a step back again.

“The laundry detergent has to go into the left… the left part! That’s how the machine works.”

“I’ve washed my own clothes for years and nothing bad ever happened by putting it on the right.”, he insisted.

As he watched you type again on your phone for the right vocabulary, he made a mental note to look into online classes for your native language to make future arguments easier for you.

a/n: the chubby is implied at this point on my blog. Y’all know 😎

For this one I could also picture Hirugami, Kuroo, Aran, Osamu, Yamaguchi or Hinata here but… when in doubt I will always pick Tendou ^^

[morporkian-cryptid]

Welcome to the wonderful world of Arsène Lupin Copyright Shenanigans

Have I ever told y’all about the absolute madness that is the legal issues around the Lupin franchise ? Probably. Can I find the post in question ? No. Am I going to tell you again ? You fucking bet !

The year is 1905, and detective stories are all the rage. Maurice Leblanc, a young writer, is commissioned by the magazine Je Sais Tout to write a short story on the same model as Sherlock Holmes. Maurice Leblanc says « Screw this detective shit », and creates the character of Arsène Lopin, gentleman thief.

No, this is not a typo.

Arsène Lopin, a municipal advisor in Paris, hears about it and contacts Leblanc. « You are not fucking writing a story about a thief who shares my name. » To which Leblanc replied, « Lopin ? No no, you misunderstand, this is Arsène Lupin, completely different person. »

And he gets away with it.

Leblanc writes a bunch more stories about Arsène Lupin, they get popular, and he decides he wants to write a crossover with the famous British detective, Sherlock Holmes. A crossover in which, of course, Lupin will win and Holmes will be humiliated.

Arthur Conan Doyle hears about it, and is not thrilled. He contacts Maurice Leblanc with a message along the lines of « You are not fucking writing a story where my Amazing-Original-Character-Do-Not-Steal gets bested by a thief. » To which Leblanc replies, « Sherlock Holmes? No no, you misunderstand, this is Herlock Sholmes, completely different person. »

And he gets away with it.

The years pass, more Lupin stories are written, they’re translated and exported outside of France, and wouldn’t you know it, Japan takes a strong liking to the « gentleman thief » archetype in general and to Arsène Lupin in particular.

The years is 1967, and mangaka Kazuhiko Kato, best known by his pen name Monkey Punch, is commissioned by the magazine Weekly Manga Action to create a manga for their first issue. He reads 15 of Leblanc’s stories, and creates Lupin the Third, a character who is the grandson of the famous gentleman thief. He does not bother asking the Leblanc Estate for permission, as Japan doesn’t give much of a crap about French copyright laws.

(For the record, Weekly Manga Action was the first manga magazine for an adult audience (outside of erotica), and Lupin III was published in its first issue, effectively making it one if not the very first adult manga in the history of manga.)

The Lupin III manga gets popular, is adapted into an anime, the anime gets popular, it gets translated into other languages and exported to Europe…

And then the Leblanc estate rears its head. «You are not making an anime about our character without paying us fucking royalties, » they say to Monkey Punch. To which Monkey Punch, channeling the spirit of the deceased Maurice Leblanc into his very soul, replies : « Lupin ? No no, you misunderstand, this is Rupan, completely different person. »

And he fucking gets away with it.

(Arsène Lupin became public domain in France in 2012. Before that, Lupin the Third took many different names in European releases, among which Rupan, Wolf, and in France, Edgar de la Cambriole (Edgar of Burglary).)

Additional tomfuckery :

The year is 1982, and science-fiction animated series are getting extremely popular. TMS decides to try and get a slice of the cake, and begins the development of Lupin VIII, a sci-fi spinoff about Lupin III’s descendant. The anime is being produced in France, and the Leblanc Estate once again rears its head. « Sure, you can make that anime, » they say, « but pay us fucking royalties. » TMS, as previously established, does not want to pay the Leblanc Estate diddly squat, and so they scrap half of the project, recycle the other half, and go « Lupin VIII ? No no, you misunderstand, this is Inspector Gadget, completely different person. »

The year is 1930, and famous Japanese writer Tarō Hirai writes The Golden Mask, a novel in which his detective character Kogoro Akechi goes up against none other than Arsène Lupin. Hirai’s pen name was Edgar Allan Poe- wait, wait, no, sorry, it’s Edogawa Ranpo, completely different person.

(Later, Gosho Aoyama names his character, Detective Conan Edogawa, after Arthur Conan Doyle and Edogawa Rampo (and the anime is distributed by TMS).)

(More than fifty years later, the Lupin III anime makes a tribute to Ranpo’s Gold Mask with the double episode The Imperial City Dreams of Thieves.)

The year is 2021, and Capcom is releasing the video game The Great Ace Attorney Chronicles, in which famous detective Sherlock Holmes plays a central role. Unfortunately for them, a few Sherlock Holmes stories are still under copyright, and the Conan Doyle Estate is about as stubborn and greedy as their French cousins. « Pay us fucking royalties, » they say.

In the English release of the game, Sherlock Holmes is renamed to, you guessed it...

...fucking Herlock Sholmes.

[turnaboutfix]

"This 'kid' I know"

The nod to Maya in AA4! It's! Pretty much the same in Japanese--but with a touch more nuance.

Apollo/Odoroki:

"Bideo disuku no keesu ga uzu takaku tsumiage rareteiru."

"Video disk cases are piled high."

(English Localization: "A swaying, spiraling stack of DVD cases.")

Apollo/Odoroki:

"「Oo Edo Senshi Tonosaman」 「Tonosaman・Hei!」"

"「Great Edo Warrior Tonosaman」 「Tonosaman・The Third!」"

(EL: ""The Steel Samurai", "The Nickel Samurai"…")

Apollo/Odoroki:

"「Koedo Kenshi Himesaman」 「Dendou Dendoushi Samansaman」"

"「Little Edo Swordsman Himesaman*」 「Electric Evangelist Samansaman」"

(EL: ""The Pink Princess", "The Zappy Samurai: Electric Bugaboo"…")

"Himesama" means princess, and adding an "n" makes it sound like a superhero. "Samansaman" does the same thing with "Sama," the most respectful title one can have. See my analysis for the Steel Samurai in Japanese for more on this.

Apollo/Odoroki:

"Kodomo muke no 《hiiroo mono》 de ume tsukusareteiru."

"It's nothing but 《hero stuff》 for children."

(EL: "They're all children's action hero shows…")

"Souiu no ga sukina ko ga ite ne. Dondon okutte kureru nda."

"There's this kid who likes this sort of thing. [She*] keeps sending these to me."

(EL: "This 'kid' I know keeps sending them to me.")

So, the word Phoenix uses to allude to Maya is "子", "Ko", and it has 11 definitions.

I'm not showing them all because they're not all relevant. But it's odd to call her a kid if she's 26 during the time this game takes place, right? Not in this case! "Ko" can mean different things in different contexts, and you can even see above that "Ko" can mean "young woman". It's not uncommon to hear adults addressed this way--as long as they are not older than the speaker, or a man of the same age if the speaker is a man as well. "Ko" also has the nuance of endearment. Endearment is why Phoenix addresses Maya with the "-chan" honorific, even when she's nearly thirty years old.

*And to address the asterisk, Japanese often omits subjects if it's clear from the context. With that quirk of the Japanese language, and the many meanings of "Ko", it helps Phoenix be vague about who he's talking about to Apollo.

Apollo/Odoroki:

"Heee‥‥. Shinrui no okosan desu ka?"

"Eeehh....? Are they the child of a relative?"

(EL: "Huh. Like a niece or nephew?")

"....Maa. Sonna youna mono ka na."

"....Well. I guess it's something like that."

(EL: "…Something like that.")

Apollo/Odoroki:

"Sugoi ryou desukedo‥‥ Kanemochi no ko nan desu ne."

"It's a huge amount... This kid must be rich."

(EL: "Quite the collection. This kid's parents must be really generous with their allowance.")

Apollo/Odoroki:

"(Naruhodou-san, kodomo ni sukareru you ni wa mienaikedo na)"

"(Naruhodou-san doesn't look like the type that children would like.)"

(EL: "(Funny, Mr. Wright doesn't seem the type that kids would like.)")

It's important to point out that Apollo uses the word, "子供", "Kodomo" here, which is the word that only means "child", so he's convinced that Phoenix is talking about a literal child.

Nope, it's our Best Gorl Maya.

[bettystonewell]

Sam Winchester x Reader - PERFECT

Read on AO3 || Main Masterlist

Sam is ever the gentleman, and Dean is, well, Dean. Having had enough of watching him lead yet another woman on, leaves Sam with no choice, but to leave. But a chance encounter in the most unlikely of places leads to Sam getting his sock on the motel door first.

18+ only MDNI 7.5k words (SAM POV)

Tags: smut, oral - male and female recieving, language, Sam’s POV, pining, dirty talk, an unconventional meet-cute

A/N: Guys! It’s my very first Sam centric fic, and it turned smutty! This is all thanks to a prompt exchange with the lovely @sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth. You can find her Donna x reader fic HERE. I was given the prompt: Third Wheeling, and the phrase, “You do not want to go in there, believe me,” which is in bold. - Beth ❤️

“Being on the road can be so lonely sometimes, you know?” Dean says, taking Kristy’s hand and gliding his thumb over her smooth skin. She’s hot and way out of his league, and Sam just knows he’s already forgotten her name.

He rolls his eyes. Again. Another town, another bar. Another conquest that will keep him out of a nice warm bed.

He gets it, he does, but he was looking forward to stretching his legs out tonight. They’re stiff and his back still aches from the salt and burn they did the night before and the driving they’ve been doing all day.

Milroy to Muncie. Dean isn’t travelling the world like he just told her. What would a seasoned pilot even be doing in a place like this?

There’s a tidal pool of liquor right in front of him, lapping at the elbows of his jacket with every fresh drink poured. But hey, there are peanuts. The shells are swimming in the swill, and that suits him fine. The smell of smoke and tobacco, cheap cologne mixed with sweat and… urinal cakes… it’s nothing to bitch about. They could use a load off.

It’s just having to hear Dean swindle his way into her panties. Only took two beers and a double bacon cheeseburger.

Sam takes another swig of his beer. Lets the bitterness cool his throat and his hands. It settles in his stomach that’s twisted itself into knots. Kristy was perfect until she started talking to Dean.

He’s got a shoulder blocking his peripheral now, but raising his chin and leaning further into the wave of booze on the counter gives Sam the right angle. He sees the rise of her chest as it dips into her tank top. Makes his lip curl over the lip of his bottle and his cheeks flush. A little.

“Omae wa mou shindeiru,” Dean says with a husk to his voice.

Kristy giggles. “What does that mean?”

“It’s Japanese for you’re so beautiful. I learnt that on my last visit.”

It’s not. Sam might not speak the language, but he knows enough to know that line is from Fist of the North Star and Dean butchered it. Pretty sure he told her she was going to die, actually, but whatever. He shakes his head. None of his business if she falls for it - she does - and he can either stay here and further torment himself, or do something about it.

He chugs down the rest of his beer and drops it in the potent ocean. His elbows just miss the riptide. “Bathroom.” He shoots the word Dean’s way, but he gets no response.

“Yeah, I climbed Fuji last time I was there. It’s beautiful in the winter. The snow up there makes the whole mountain look like you’re walking in the clouds.”

Right. Though Sam would love to see him try. He might not have his brother in full afterwards, but he could live on if Dean became subjected to Darwinism.

He stands and searches the place for the John. Of course it’s in the back.

His eyes sweep over Kristy as he passes her, keeping them well away from Dean’s. His hand is covering the dip of her lower spine now, and that’s enough.

Between the pool tables and over more spilled booze that catches the soles of his sneakers as he crosses the room; he makes it to the little darkened crook behind the jukebox where some guy is marking a trail over the neck of a woman twice his age. He has to tap him on the shoulder or squeeze past and bump uglies with them, but no problem, sweet urinal cakes are within his grasp.

He reaches for the handle, tugs, and is about to step inside when a face plants into his chest.

“Sorry,” you say, and look up. Your eyes would be apologetic if it weren’t for the grin that’s stretching your cheeks. “You do not wanna go in there, believe me.”

He doesn’t want to — “What?”

He checks the plaque on the door to make sure that he is indeed trying to enter the men’s room, and he is. “Ahhh,” he chuckles. His voice is higher, and he’s blinking like there’s no tomorrow. “Why?”

“Oh. No.” Your hand is at your mouth and it’s grown even wider.

Your giggling is much more pleasant than Kristy’s, but he doesn’t see what’s so funny. A band of warmth spreads across his nose, but his stomach is doing flips now and not the good kind.

This place is gross enough. What could someone like you possibly do in there? You’re so…little. Well, anyone compared to him is, but you seem sober and put together.

Your makeup has no smudges. No smell of puke or anything else. Your hair is neat, and while those jeans are rather snug, you’ve got some nice tits. They’re not falling out and you’re not stumbling all over the place. You are looking more sheepish by the second, though.

“No, no. I, ah.” You shake your head. Your legs are crossing together. “Uh-uh. Someone’s dropped a load off in there and the ladies aren’t much better. Can I—” Your hands clasp and fingers intertwine; your arms are now slithering like two snakes between his side and the doorframe. “I really gotta go. Excuse me!”

And with that, you take off through the gap made by the couple and the booze puddles on the floor. You’re scooting between the pool tables, then past Dean and Kristy, honing in on a door at the end of the bar he never noticed before. A gust of air pulls it shut behind you.

Okay. Weird.

Sam shakes his head. He’s about to walk on through to the sink he spots on the wall when his nose picks up on whatever it was you were talking about and, yeah, he doesn’t want to know. Whomever did that needs their insides checked, if they haven’t died already?

He turns on his heels and considers his options. He’s seen and smelled worse, but he’s not desperate yet. The beer is still sitting atop the knots that had unraveled, and though the stench has tightened them back into place, they won’t hold forever.

Maybe if he walks home to the motel they checked into earlier, he can make it before things get dire? He should beat Dean before he drops a sock on the door that way.

So, with a glance towards his older brother, whose fingers have slipped under Kristy’s waistband, his decision made, and Sam beelines for the main entrance, stepping out into the night air.

The chill cuts the back of his hands and he shoves them straight into his pockets, bringing his elbows in tight on account of the wind. It dares to tackle him over, but he leans forward and braces himself down the path and past the alley that tucks into the side of the bar.

For the second time that night, you barrel into him. The coincidence, the irony, the annoyance tightens his stance until he realises it’s you and his brow quirks. “You gotta watch where you’re going.”

Your face planted into his arm, above the junction his elbow makes. It fits nicely. A strand of your hair catches on the stitching of his jacket. Probably got some beer on your chin. Serves you right.

“Excuse me,” you snap, but that grin still spreads over when you look up and your eyes recognise you’ve bumped into him. “Oh.” Your eyelashes bat against your cheek. “Well, you gotta stop getting in my way.”

And as you had done only a minute ago, you turn to take off again. Only Sam is quicker. More alert. His hand grabs your wrist before you get too far and holds on tight. “Where are you going?” he says, considering how your hips and legs squirm. The motel is only two blocks and he’ll be the gentleman if he has to be. He isn’t Dean.

“Look dude, I gotta pee, and that alley ain’t going to cut it, so unless you want me to—”

“Yeah.” He scoffs. “I’m staying down the road, so before you threaten to piss yourself, you’re welcome to use the one in my room.”

You bite your lip and shrug as you stare him up and down. He’s not a serial killer, but he can understand the skepticism after all he’s seen.

You nod your head. “I was gonna aim for your shoes,” you say. “But okay.”

And there’s Sam, blinking once more. His eyes are getting quite the workout tonight. His scoff teed with a snicker this time. The dimples in his cheeks are pulling his chin to new heights and his other hand is leaving its pocket, outstretching in front of him to lead the way.

“Okay then,” he says, and now you’re both walking.

The room isn’t much. The usual twin beds, table and chairs, a couch Sam refuses to sit on. You’ve only been here a second and you’ll only be here a minute or two more, but it’s imperative he cleans up any evidence of their less-than-normal lives while you’re occupied. 

The second the door clicks and the light filters through the threads of carpet caught on the frayed timber, he’s zipping up duffles and tucking the nose of Dean’s shotgun out of sight. 

There’s a salt round by the fridge, an empty bottle of Jim next to it, and Dean’s underwear draped over the chair. He picks that up with the machete, thanks his lucky stars you didn’t see that or the rest of it, then sits on the end of his bed. 

No, he stands. 

No, he sits and leans on his legs. His thumbs twiddle, his eyes scan the doors. And now he’s standing up again as the handle jostles and you appear with a smile that’s oozing relief. He relaxes just a little.

“All good?” he asks. What the hell was he thinking? Not like you battled a vamp in there. But then you’re tilting your head and your palms are smoothing your sides as you consider his question, and ‘Please don’t think I’m a creep,’ he prays. 

“Yeah. Thanks,” you say. You’re less animated now. You’re chill, calm, collected. Even more put together than before, but just as Sam feared you might, you take in your surroundings, checking out the details of the room.

He’s luckier still. 

“Can I, ah, take you back to the bar?” 

It’s not suss, right? He’s just being friendly, not kicking you out or hiding something, but it’s not the way you take it.

“You want me gone?” Your chin recedes into your neck. 

Shit. “No, I—”

“Relax.” You chuckle and step over to pat him on the shoulder. The same side you ran into on the street. “I’m just messing with you. Thanks for helping a stranger in need,” you add as you move to the door. “I’ll see you around, unless walking me back to the bar includes buying me a drink?”

“There’s beer in the fridge.” Sam didn’t even think. Well. He did, just not with his head. 

It’s Dean’s stash in case he doesn’t pickup, but you’re here, and he’s there. Even if nothing comes from this, he doesn’t need to know it’s all a fallacy. Sam’ll take it as a win, and he waits for your response.

He’s down to beg. He throws that look that always works and your lips spread into a smile. 

“Alright.” You nod. Don’t even question why there’s beer when you just met at a bar, and the next thing he knows, you’re pulling up a chair, and so is he. His back, leaning against Dean’s former underwear drawer, clinking his and your cold one together. 

“So, passing through, huh?” you ask between swigs. 

There’s a spark of interest in your eyes, but all he can do is say, “Yeah.” He’d much rather talk about you. Your life is normal. You seem normal. If accepting to use a stranger’s motel bathroom and then staying for a drink makes you so. 

You did threaten to pee on him.

“Staying long?”

“Depends on my brother.”

You’d taken another mouthful and the lip of the bottle catches on yours as you say, “Your brother?” 

There’s a drop of beer dripping down your chin, and he’s drawn to it. Tongue darts out before hiding it behind his own drink. “Yeah,” he repeats and you’re nodding more. Only it’s slow. It’s understanding. 

Your gaze travels the room again as you think what to say, passing the two beds and the duffles he threw on the floor. “So, road trip? Heading to or from college?”

“College?” He chuckles.

“Yeah. You seem young enough. You got that head in a book kind of look.” Your fingers trace the bottleneck and swipe at the condensation. “I dunno? I’m making shit up while I try to work out who you are besides Sam, the guy who saved me from peeing my pants. You’re not exactly giving me much.”

And you’re not giving him a chance. “What about you? What’re you twenty-four?”

“Three. You?”

He nods. He’s twenty-five, but you don’t need to know that. It’s been over two years since he got dragged back into hunting. Since he lost Jess. Maddison, too, not that it’s the same. 

“So what’s your story?” he says.

“Besides trying to use the men’s room and the alley?”

It’s not just a chuckle this time, he’s wholeheartedly laughing. It bellows round the room, ricocheting off the walls and doors. That smile of yours is wicked, and the straight-laced tone that delivered it was just right. His stomach has unwound, and his head is feeling light thanks to your shoe brushing his leg below the table.

Maybe there’s no need for lies. Sometimes all it takes is a gentleman’s kindness. A tall stature and an air of mystery. 

“Besides that,” he says, and you’re considering him again. Your stare has him staring back.

You’re pretty. More than you are put together. Your hair sits just right, your hands delicate. They’d look good in his, and even better wrapped around any part of him. 

Which means he’s got to up his game. You’re already here and the way you look at him clues him in that you might be interested. He just has to reel you in. So, “You gotta boyfriend, or living with your folks?” he adds. He shouldn’t have started with your relationship status, but your smile’s just growing bigger and bigger.

“Boyfriend, huh? At least I asked what you did first.”

“No, you didn’t.” 

“Do you wanna know if there is one?” you tease, then you’re laughing along with him.

There’s no guy. Your shoe is off and your socked foot is now stretched across the table; resting close to his crotch. 

You’re not shy. You’re not dumb, either. “Why do you think I stayed?” 

You lean forward. Your toes shift, too, creeping closer and closer to not so little Sam, who twitches with interest. “Cute stranger, staying at the local motel. We don’t get a lot of those ‘round here, and I’m counting on you leaving tomorrow. If you’re interested.”

It’s like he’s channeling his inner-Dean or something. You may as well be in his lap. Sure, your foot is, but women his age never fawn over him, at least he never notices until it’s too late. It took days for Jess flirting after Brady introduced her for him to make his move. 

He was in Maddison’s living room and that took Dean’s interference. The weird, and albeit extremely obvious kind, but here with you, what you’re suggesting is plain as day. 

“I, ah.” You’re looking at him still. Your big toe is scraping right up against the seam of his pants now. If it weren’t for the fabric covering the family jewels, your nail would be right up in theirs.

Shit. 

His knee hits the table. His beer travels down the wrong pipe. He chokes when the cool liquid slides further and the bubbles lick the walls. Meanwhile, your foot just gets in there more. Big toe, seeking the form of his growing boner.

Your smile is infectious. You think making a grown man squirm is hilarious, apparently. He’d let you do it again and again. “You wanna?” he says between splutters. 

Idiot. Does he really have to ask?

It’s hard to breathe when your lungs are constricting, let alone think. But you’re there, and he’s there, and he’s so fucking down, it’s no longer funny. 

He stands. Crunches his chair across the crunchier carpet as your chin shoots up. Eyes following to what would be the perfect angle if you were closer and below his feet. 

“I do,” you say, and your lips are plump, glistening. They’re wide and they pillow under your front teeth, daring him to capture them. 

He does.

His arm sneaks around your waist, and he pulls you to stand. His hand plants firm on your side. Fingers scrunch up your shirt, but no matter, yours are riding up under his, and fuck, no, no, he doesn’t fucking care.

His gut is doing flips. Those knots are loose, but his chest is tight. Blood rushes to both heads and both heads ground against different parts of you. 

“Sam.” Your kiss stops mid nip. Your hands have since moved to his buckle, but your eyes are on him when he looks past his nose and mouth. He’d kiss you more. Only his attention has turned to what your fingers are doing with his belt and how your arms glide it out in one flick, then go straight back to the fly. “You packing?”

Packing? He stands there, stunned. His pants clearly are. Your fingers just brushed the tip.

“Condom,” you say, and the colour in your irises flicker. 

“Ah—Yeah. Yes. Mm—You—You don’t waste time, huh?” 

“Haven’t had enough, not too.” You double over in a manner he’d say otherwise. “And you mentioned something ‘bout a brother?”

“Dean?” His cheeks are rising again. But they’re doing so because his eyes are squinting with disgust. You’re still grinning up at him though, and your palm is teasing his dick through its confines. 

You grip and press into him, moulding out the shape under his jeans and he shakes that thought away. 

You want him. Your lashes are fluttering and your lips are twitching into a sultry smirk because he’s under your ministration and you’re ready to go with him, just as much as he is with you.

“Hold that thought,” he says, and he takes a step back, hand still on your waist to toe a shoe off. 

He’s not that coordinated with the sock, however, and he soon bends over to retrieve the house-elf’s bounty. He flashes it in triumph in front of your quirked brow, but you’re soon grinning with him. 

There’s a fit of laughter that hits his ears again and footsteps stalking him as he glides to the door and covers the outside handle, just as Dean would do. 

He shuts it, turns around and your hands grab and pull him back to you. Your right is back at the button and your left is sliding on in, tickling skin teasing through the copse of tiny curls before any kiss picks back up.

You swallow his moan. Taste the trepidation on his tongue as your skin touches his velvety head. 

Nope. Not shy. You know what you want, and Sam is more than happy to let you take it if you keep touching him like that, but he’s not dumb. He also knows what he wants, and it’s only fair he gets his turn, too. You’re here. He’s here. He wants to last. No, needs to. Being on the road with Dean so often means he gets little time to, well, take his time. 

He’s pent up. Motel showers aren’t the best when he has to keep quiet and slow his hands so the faps don’t reach his brother’s waiting jaunts. He could blow his load right now with not much more effort from you, but he’s not going to. Not until after he savours you first. 

It’s been way too long since he felt sweet curves or tasted the sweat of another’s skin. The bitter beer mixed with a fruity gloss is doing wonders already, but he craves more.

Just like the footpath, his hand grabs your wrist and its twin, and he leads you backward until your knees hit Dean’s bed and you flail. Your arms pull from him and push down into the bedding, then you drag yourself up to the pillows where you rest your head against the wooden board. 

Your finger tells him to come hither, your hand pats the space at your side. Sam takes off his shirt.

His gut is doing flips again. More so when your eyes trail up over every inch of his chiseled chest. Behind it, his heartbeat is fast. It could jump right out of there. Only the lump in his throat is huge. 

You’ve slipped off your shirt, too. Your fingers unclasp the hooks of your bra. You slide the straps down and hold it in the air before you fling it at his feet and giggle again. 

“What’re you waiting for?” you say and it goes straight to his pants. The outline of his dick throbs against the denim. 

He swallows. “Just, ah, admiring the show.” 

You grin. A little sigh escapes your lips as you look down at yourself. Your fingers swirl over your heaving skin. They dip into the valley between your breasts, but never move further than the tan line that divides the top half from the fuller one. “It’s more fun if you’re touching me, too.”

Ho-kay. This is really happening. And Sam’s now diving for Dean’s duffle. He’s careful not to reveal the contents, but it’s hard not to when he’s just as and everything’s dumped on top. The little box of Trojans is right under the weight of the sawn-off and the sharp blade of a machete almost cuts him.

Man, it’s lucky you’re occupied. 

Sam turns around, and that’s an understatement. You’re inching down your jeans. They’re flung off, and he’s doing the same. Hopping, skipping, and jumping, he yanks the string of plastic foils out and trails them along behind him. 

They splay out over the covers while you splay under him; and he’s dipping down to taste. There’s salt and a light scent of citrus teed with something sweeter flooding his nostrils as your fingers curl into his hair. His occupied with the way your left tit fits below them. He squeezes and draws his mouth over the other. Pops your nipple in and sucks.

“Took you long enough,” you coo, and he just chuckles, haughty, deep.

“And I’m gonna take longer,” he says between nips and swipes of a thick, flat tongue. One that glides perfectly ‘round the round, hardening bud. “Gonna fuck you so good.”

He presses firm, draws your taut skin into his teeth. He’s determined to leave marks because something’s snapped within. Where the hell that last line came from, he’s got no idea, but it’s as if he’s an animal turned feral.

A wolf in its den? A lion devouring its prey? Does it matter when his hips are gyrating against your lace? 

Your panties are staining his boxers, and his boxers strain against them, staining them right back.

“Fuck,” you moan. 

He groans, and then your hands are pressing against his head.

He can take a hint. He’s smart. He won’t tell you your upper thighs were his mouth’s goal all along. Too busy concentrating as he scoots down, ‘cause he can’t fuck this up. “You want me to fuck you, baby?” he says on the outside. God. Who the hell is he? “Want me to taste you?”

“Sam,” you moan again. “Gonna get me off with that tongue of yours, baby?”

And damn. His name is so much better when you say it, when your legs are spreading further open for him. His fingers are slipping under the edge of the lace, feeling the first slither of just how wet you really are.

His lips press against your clothed entrance and the damp fabric gives way. He’s certain his nose has just tapped into your clit and you smell divine. Sour, earthy. On the verge of something sweet. 

He darts his tongue back out to taste, and your fingers are tugging this time. Your nails scrape his scalp and your back arches off the bed, pushing your hot, hot heat against him.

“You gonna tease me all day, Samuel?” you say, and he’s not mad. That scolding tone is working wonders. His amusement bursts through his nose.

Down below though, a bead of pre-cum dribbles from little Sam, flexing with a life of its own. He can’t deny his balls are tight, stomach hotter than you are. It’s still flipping, and his toes stretch and recoil in extension. 

“No, ma’m.” The sooner he can get you to cum, the sooner he’ll be comfortable sinking into you. What he lacks in confidence he makes up for in size, and it’s something he’s proud of. 

He unfurls your panties. Glides them down with your eager help. Without warning, his lips return to their former position, parting yours around him. He presses hard, spreads his mouth open wide and licks while his fingers dip where he’s too afraid to reach. 

You’re still a stranger he knows nothing about besides no boyfriend and you’re willing to have this one-night stand with him. But he’s smart, remember? He doesn’t want to catch anything. Even if you’re well put together and squirming into his palm, he just met you, urinal adjacent. 

“Oh, shit.” Your back arches again. Your pants reach his ear. His fingers curl and stroke your constricting walls, wet catching in his nail-beds. Your body trembles, bringing a new meaning to thundering thighs. 

They quiver, they shake. He gets a calve to his chin as you raise it up and stretch it out. There’s a risk his head will get a good clamping, but he continues to strike with the pebbled tip of his tongue. 

His lips pull together and he pulls away with a smack, putting on a show for you with a swipe over the bow. His eyes find yours, lust blown, heavy lidded. Your mouth parts and begs a, “Please.”

And Sam’s diving right back in with a smirk. Kisses with force against your clit. Thrums his fingers inside, hard and fast. His wrist is getting a workout. His thumb aches as it’s pushed to the side. But he slips in a third finger, flicks the shelf of your pubic bone. Holds your stomach down as you buck and shake.

“Oh, god,” you cry. His name comes out in a hoarse scream. You yank at his hair as you gush over his hand and chin. Your legs do everything in their power to crush him, but he doesn’t let up.

His fingers continue to make you writhe and your arms wriggle and bend. Only now, his kisses move and spread your juices over you. 

The crease in your thighs and the soft flesh covering your hips. Over your stomach, delving into your navel, he trails up your body, back to your breasts, and soon you’re wet inside and out, and he grins big and toothy. Cheeks up high again as he waits for you to come down from yours.

He drops to his side. Props himself on his elbow. Hand runs through his hair, already laced with sweat. “That good, huh?” he asks. 

And if he’s honest, he needs to know. He’s still working you, only now his fingers tap at your opening. Slipping through your folds with a sound so slick, Dean would say it’s music. A newfound confidence comes from the belief you’re outta breath because of him.

Your laugh fills with air, like how a cartoon dog might snicker, chest rising against his own. Your nipple scrapes over his skin as he leans down and kisses you proper. Answer, stolen, before it can even form.

Salt and fruity gloss - cherry? No, strawberry. Why the hell does he care? The flavours swirl together. Bodies press together when you hitch your leg over his and pull him closer. Your sweet heat now flush against him, hammers his heart and forces his grip on you to tighten.

He squeezes your ass. It’s plump. It’s firm. Your jeans hid just how perfect and round it was. Just the right size for him to hold.

But you’ve got your sights set on your own grip, hand diving into his boxers to take him and give him a slow pump. Pulling back, your eyes open wide in surprise; you twist your wrist and palm his weeping head. 

“You’re the one packing, huh, big boy?” You then bite your lip. Lick it. Drag your thumb over his slit and pull a grunt from deep within the pit of his stomach. 

Somewhere below the knotting, there’s a fire burning, raging, and it needs to be sheathed, covered, surrounded. It’s gross, and it’s oh so Dean, but he needs it put out and a wet pussy will do.

Sam thrusts into your touch. He can’t help it. Fuck, he wants to move.

“You think you can handle me, baby?” he rasps into your parted mouth, stretching his arm over and behind, fumbling for the string of foils and tears one off.

“I’m gonna fucking try,” you say, and the wordplay, whether on purpose, is not lost.

He rolls to his back, and you’re already pouncing, pulling his underwear further down and off. You straddle his legs, take the little packet in your hand, and stroke him some more, up close, eye to eye. 

You kiss the tip, watching as it flexes. His fingers do the same ‘round the ends of your hair. They curl then grip. Yours is firm around his base. And the sight?

The sight. 

He’s died and gone to heaven. Too long since he’s seen a woman between his legs, those eyes still half lidded, still full of lust. You’re greedy. You’re needy. The way you hold your gaze as he feels the heat of your mouth nip at his skin, breath warm and wet, floods through him. 

The way you sink further down.

Sam rolls his head back, his crown pushes into the pillow bunched up below. He wants to look, wants to pull at the strands of hair that still lace through his fingers and yank you down so you take all of him in. 

Your tongue glides down the underside, flattened and rough, encasing, but with a light graze from two front teeth up top. The suction is so tight. The stretch around him burns his own skin. The way you drag back, then spit, swirl the saliva, and do it again, coating him all sloppy that it’s gleaming, all slippery and dripping like you were. Like you will be again. His gut curls in on itself now. 

He’s tingling. He’s buzzing. He’d be high as a kite, if it weren’t for your thighs keeping him down. Their weight, your weight, making him go numb with need. 

You pump your fist down low, swiping your smallest finger over the velvety skin covering his balls. A drop of him or you pools there, then drips further down. “Fuck.” He then calls your name.

“You ready for me, big boy?” you ask again, and he’s snickering at the way you say it. 

“Yeah.” His arm releases you and flops over his forehead, but the sound of that little wrapper in your grasp rectifies that. He’s peeping out from under himself as you roll the rubber down.

He’s so sensitive, it stings like the bite of some bug. Balls more so as you drag yourself up and over him. Cockhead catches where you split down the middle, rubbing across your puckered hole. 

You bite your lip. How many times now he’s lost count? You raise yourself, grabbing him where he’s thickest. Those eyes of yours stare at him again. They continue to hold that gaze as you lower back down, grin only curling further up, as your lower lips stretch around him. 

“So big,” you say this time, and he can’t tell if you’re yanking his chain or really mean it. Your cheeks puffed and your mouth all white from shining teeth, just like the rest of you. 

Like your perky ass, kissing his pelvis. Like your thighs squeezing him, much like the vice between them. Tight, wet and hot.

“Can you handle it? Can you move, baby? Gonna ride me? Gonna cum all over me?” God. Where the hell is this coming from? Who is this guy, all confident and cocky?

The guy with the big cock in your cunt. That’s who. 

Sam chuckles to himself. Still can’t believe his luck. But you’re raising again, and sliding back down, and all he can do is hold on.

His fingers dig into your thighs. He presses his nails into your soft body. He helps you rise and fall over him. 

He’s making the ride smooth and savouring the feel of your walls closing around him. Feels the fluttering, and the beginnings of new tremors. Marvels at how much more wet you’ve become. 

The sounds. It really is music. The way you, your tits, and your skin slap with each thrust and bounce. The louder claps of his pelvis hitting yours and the sheen of perspiration between has his head swirling with images he needs.

“Come ‘ere.” Sam lifts you just slight. Raises his legs; bends his knees; jostles you so his neck doesn’t need to strain as far so his mouth can reach. 

He pistons his hips, hears the slaps, tastes the sweat, feels the pants against his chin and cheek. Memories blend, and ghosts of his past weave in and out around you. You could be Jess, you could be Sarah, but it’s you who’s mouthing him. Not exactly kissing, too focused on making your bodies move.  

“Fuck, Sam,” you squeal. 

His hands spread you wider. He grunts your name into his ear.

He can’t keep up the pace as much as he’d like to. Can’t keep up the facade. It’s better if he sees your face to remind him who he’s there with. He can’t do that with a curtain of hair. 

So he taps, twice on the fine edge of a curve, has your eyes firm on his. 

“Wanna switch, baby?” he asks, and thinks quick for a reason. “Need to see that pretty face when you come.” He’d try to roll over with you in his arms, but he can just see that being disastrous. Losing his balance or getting an elbow somewhere where it shouldn’t.

He doesn’t have to worry because you’re lifting off. You fling yourself to his side and wriggle your back against the bedcovers. Open your legs wide, hands draped where your panty line would be. 

“You gonna make me come again, big boy? Gonna fill me up with that thing?” you say, and he’s over you in one swift movement. 

Sam grabs his cock and runs the covered tip over your entrance to tease you back. Watches the twinkle in your eye as it runs over your clit and you moan, just for show. 

Man, he’s lucky. Who the hell meets someone by a urinal and then gets to fuck them? Wait, no. He doesn’t wanna answer that. He’ll just keep marvelling at his luck at the gorgeous woman below him. The one who was busting to spring a leak, now waiting for him to bust his nut and hers.

“Fuck. You’re so tight.” Still, he glides back in with ease. How wet you are for him makes it so. 

He wishes he could feel it, he’s just not that stupid, but he can imagine if he remembers your mouth and how it felt ‘round him, taking him deep.

You still do.

Your legs hook over him, and he hitches the left up higher with his elbow. His cock sinks deeper, base flush against your seam.  

“Fuck me, Sam.” You’re squirming. It’s right out of a movie or a book. He’s John Snow or Jamie, and you’re - god no. You’re you and he’s him, and he’s, fuck, yeah, he’s fucking you.

He snaps his hips. Feels that burn again as his balls collide with your ass. His thumb is drawing little circles over where you join and he goes for it. 

He leans over, bending you with him, stretching you open, dreams of splitting you in two. You moan. Your walls flutter again. You tremble and your thighs contract. 

They’re powerful, much more than before. The back of your knee pulls on his arm and he only grips tighter. Hand on your shin. The other palm pushes you down.

It’s the perfect angle. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. 

Perfect to dive in deeper. Feel you flex and accommodate his size.

Your mouth produces a hiss. It’s like a whine at the same time. Forming an O with your lips that then spreads wide into an “Ah.” Elongated. A laugh. A giggle. Whatever it is, he’s doing something right because your thighs are trembling again and your leg is trying to pull away. 

His hand presses firmer, but he’s pulling you and shifting back, raising you up so you’re his handle on the ride. His tip is dragging out through you now and spearing you when he goes back in. 

Thrusts are quick. Sweat falls from his brow. He feels the way your body pushes back against him. He’s an intruder, but he’s not backing down. 

His stomach is tight. His legs ache and tremor, just as yours does. But that pull? The way his dick swells? It’s magnetised, pushes as deep as it can go. It’s determined to bury itself to the hilt. 

And when you say, “Fuck,” again, but there’s another, and an added, “God. I’m gonna come,” Sam snaps his hips and watches your face closely. 

A huge grin. The biggest yet; stretches into your eyes, twitches your lip and raises your jaw high. Your neck, exposed like a bloodsucker’s prey, and Sam is doubling over to claim it.

His tongue glides up your neck, teeth nip at your skin. He’s sucking like you’re his last meal. His pace wanes as your walls try to push him out, but he’s rocking his hips with purchase, pushing back in deep.

Another, “Fuck,” leaves you, but he’s seeing white. His balls throb and he’s spilling into what little space is left in the Trojan. He’s so far high on cloud fucking nine, he forgets where he is and who’s under him. 

He’s spent. That was way better than any quickie in the shower. The warmth beneath him. Perfect round tits pressed against his hardened chest tremble and shake. 

“Fuck.” It’s his turn now, but it comes out more like a groan. He pants. Body heavy, yet light as air. He tries to move, but everything is jello and shaking.

Your arms have been clinging to his back, your slick pussy would if it could, but it’s still fluttering, and he chuckles deep.

You giggle on reflex, and somehow it gives him the strength to look up and search for a kiss. The sweat is intense. Fruit, now barely there, but the after-sex-glow kissing your cheeks is better than anything else.

“Wow, big boy,” you say between your own pants. “Fuck.” He could hear that again and again. “That was quite a ride.”

“Yeah?” he says, though he really doesn’t have to ask. 

“Yeah,” you say, and it’s breathless, it’s hearty, it’s reminiscent of a time he should forget when you’re there with him, so he does. He tries. 

He rolls over to the side and removes the rubber. His muscles remember to roll back and drape his arm over your middle. Fingers flex at your side and he breathes in the citrus remnants in your hair as he closes his eyes and breathes in deep.

For a moment, he’s not in the dingy motel, but in his room. Yours too, maybe? He’s still at college ‘cause he is young, and he still has his whole life ahead of him. 

There are no monsters. No salt, no burns, knives or guns, and Dean? Well, Dean can be there too, he supposes. Just separate, the other side of town. Further in Milroy.

Yeah. Pennsylvania. That’s perfect, too. 

The weight of you draws him in further to dreaming. The warmth of you finally lolls him off, but neither is there when he stirs the next morning. The space in the bed beside him is cold and the thumps on the door rattle the chill he’s left with. His body, no longer jello, but stone-like, and cold. 

No feathers in sight, unless the pillow bunched up beneath him again is made of them. He is dumb if he thinks it’s true.

The newfound churning in his gut tells him he’s foolish, though, and when he opens his eyes and scans the room, he’s a bigger fool than Dean. What was he hoping for? That you’d be there with bacon and eggs? A morning coffee? Waking him up for another round?

No. Of course not. The bathroom door is wide open, and no feminine clothes, litter the floor. Of course you’d be long gone. You’d told him something of the sort last night.

“I’m counting on you leaving tomorrow.” Yes, that was it. That’s exactly what you said. He just didn’t realise you’d be the first.

Sam rubs his face. Pushes his hair back out of it and stands. The bangs are getting old, and the district “Sammy” that comes with them grates his eardrums. He’s not so big anymore.

No, he’s little brother Winchester. 

Bitch. 

“Sammy.” Dean bellows again. “Sock time’s over!” Another thump. “You’re abusing the privilege. ‘S only supposed to be two hours, max. Three if you’re ménaging.” A lecherous laugh follows.

Who’s older and who’s younger? Well, it’s only four years. 

Sam rolls his eyes and picks his boxers up as he walks around the bed. He grabs his t-shirt at the midway point, and strolls over to the door. 

Dean’s fist is held up in greeting when he opens, but Sam’s turning before the stupid grin gets any bigger. 

“Oh c’mon man. On my bed?” 

“It’s not like you were using it,” Sam says, back still towards him as he grabs what he needs and heads for the shower. 

“Where’s the girl?” follows him there.

There’s a twinge of a smile as he closes the door, but a sigh replaces it. He runs his hand through his hair again, holding it there as he looks around.

Nothing’s out of place. No signs of anyone else occupying the space unless you count the seat on the John being down. “You’re getting sentimental over a toilet?” he whispers, and shakes his head. Grabs his toothbrush; squeezes the paste.

Pearly whites and hands on him flash before his eyes. He goes through the motions after that. 

There’s a perfectly rounded tit in his hand, heaving as he squeezes, then lets go. A, “Fuck,” moaned into his ear when he turns on the faucet, plump lips and lust-blown eyes spitting on his tip when he spits into the sink. The lingering drop on the porcelain drips down nice and slow. He’s got a small mark on his shoulder. When he twists, he sees a couple of tiny dints in his back. His cock is stirring as his eyes travel his waist, imagines perfect hands gripping him firm.

“Hey, big boy,” Dean says through the crack, and it makes him startle. 

Big boy chokes and yanks on the handle. How the hell does he know? 

“You sly dog. So you did get your dingle wet.”

“What?” Sam’s voice is rather high. His cheeks are pushing the limits again and he’s hiding the smirk that’s trying to rise.

“You know.” Dean chuckles. “Widdle Sammy got waid.” He even goes as far as to slap his side as he holds up a note with ten beautiful digits scrawled between a heart and a ‘call me.’

“Give me that.” Sam snatches the note; grabs his phone, refusing to look Dean in the eye when he slams the door. They’re too busy scanning the digits, each curve, each bubble, each dot as he punches the numbers into his contacts, his thumb hovers over pressing call. 

Is he desperate? Yes, but his ego holds him back. It will at least, until they hit the road. 

From Muncie to god knows where next, he’s got no idea. Another town, another case? Maybe. But there’ll be nowhere as special there and no-one as perfect as the girl who almost…made him ditch his shoe.

For those who don’t recognise the Japanese reference, “Omae wa mou shindeiru,” (お前はもう死んでいる) translates to “you are also going to die.”

Tagging those who showed interest from the WIP folder game, and those who asked to be tagged in everything SPN ✌️

@losers-clvb @ambiguous-avery @jollyhunter @roseblue373 @middleearthislife

Do you want to see more Sam stuff? LMK

[meolia]

. *. ⋆ twisted wonderland: how dateable are they? (heartslabyul ver.)

a/n: so. back in 2022/2023 i vaguely remember doing this on an old blog i had and i thought, since im obsessed with this game again i should redo it with newfound knowledge el oh el / oh and feel free to debate me on this i just need people to talk to 💔 . also i apologize that the cons have more words than the pros because i have a lot to say about them BYEHEYE

cw: profanity, troubled teenage boys, no sugarcoating, involves content from the vignettes, main story & events from the eng server, involves SOME headcanons.

1 (extremely undateable), 10 (extremely dateable); im also kind of biased but i swear to remain neutral💔💔💔

SAVANACLAW | other parts tba.

HEARTSLABYUL

Riddle Rosehearts

PROS: hardworking, determined and adaptable. we've seen this guy study so hard ever since he popped out of the womb and it resulting in him coming out on top, and he could've easily skipped a few grades because of how smart he is academically and magically. he's also able to remain coolheaded in stressful situations, oftentimes coming up with (usually) rational solutions. he's also really cute when it comes to cakes/tarts. he'd get mad on your behalf, he'd also be kinder towards you, he'd offer to tutor you on subjects you don't understand and tries to be patient, just for you. chronically offline (thats a good thing yes)

CONS: well. first, he's got some serious anger issues he needs to work on; it's not his fault per se, but with how unpredictable the bursts of angers are will probably be tiring. he takes offense to a lot of things and admittedly, he's better post OB but he's still got a long way to go. second, his obsession with the queen of hearts' rules are INsane. there's been instances where he expects outsiders that aren't even in heartslabyul to abide by her rules which is,,, haha lol ermmmmm. he'd probably expect you to do the same. just because youre his partner doesn't mean he'd let you go scot-free if you break any one of them...! again, he's better post OB but still. third, his mother and overall tense family relationship. he's probably this way because of his mother's influence and insane expectations of him, so it won't be very surprising if his mother has a LOT of opinions on you. lastly, he lacks joy and whimsy. he literally never watches movies or play games etc., deeming them unnecessary which is insane????????? HOLY crap im surprised hes still intact

MY FINAL VERDICT: 7/10 — he would make a decent boyfriend. me personally i probably wouldnt date him people like him stress me out but each to their own! he needs to sort himself out before even thinking of dating though

Trey Clover

PROS: he's very big brother like, the kind that's reassuring and makes you feel safe whenever he's near. he rarely gets mad, and if he does, he wouldn't resort to yelling or act irrational. mature, maybe overly so for a guy his age and surrounded by the people he's around, but that's a plus for him. CAN COOK AND CAN BAKE. his family owns a bakery too so you'd probably get discounts because you're dating him. also, his love language is probably acts of service so you can probably expect him to carry most of your stuff, help you with organizing spaces etc. gives in easily... could be both a pro and con. soft-spoken teeheeHEE... he didn't make it into the top 30 of male characters japanese women want to date for no reason.

CONS: that god awful fucking obsession he has with cleaning teeth. OH my god the way he was all like "im the only normal one here omfgggg" during twisted halloween part 2 and then when sebek mentions that his father is a dentist he immediately starts smiling WIDELY and kept pressing him for more info about his dad's dental work like that scene of shrek signing a contract by that little man. whenever he mentions "brushing your teeth" it's going to sound like a threat even when he doesn't mean it that way. going back to gives in easily; it'll become a problem because you know damn well he'd go "umm... nevermind" very often.

MY FINAL VERDICT: 8/10. deducted two points because im genuinely terrified of his cleaning teeth HOBBY. otherwise id say he'd make a really sweet boyfriend. would date, probably.

Cater Diamond

PROS: he's chill, laid-back and easygoing (are there any differences between those three words im sobbing). he plays mediator during tense situations, and he offers peaceful resolutions (most of the time). perceptive, and he's got some nice intuitions. his psychic abilities are cray craaay... I just stared at what I typed for a full minute. I'm never doing that EVER again. he's usually optimistic, and he's also really cheerful so if you like some rainbows in your life, he's your guy. i KNOW he's good at photography since he posts on magicam so much & probably has a decent following. he would take the most godly pictures of you if you wanted. i think he'd break his back and knees to get that angle for you.

CONS: The way he incorporates hashtags in almost every single conversation will kill me. youd be talking about something horrid that happened to you that day and he'd say some shit like "oh no! that's hashtag #diabolical!" (double hashtags since the game does that... ik they dont mean it like that but i just feel like that'd be funny). apparently has a death glare so terrifying it'd kill a man on the spot? you'd either be wetting your pants or be more attracted to him. either way, if you guys ever get into a heated argument and he pulls that out umm bless you i think? and he maybe posts on magicam. too much. it'd be something insignificant and not very worth journalling but he'd take a picture anyways and post it online with some long stupid hashtags like #DelightfulFurry #HotPinkBangin #OneWithTheCrowd with an image of heartslabyul freshmen wearing pink and feeding the flamingoes. but i guess that's part of his charm...?

MY FINAL VERDICT: 7/10. he's handsome and he's a cool guy but the way he talks in hashtags and how he lives on magicam will be a big fat turnoff for me. if you like it, good for you! cay-cay would make me decay-cay!

Ace Trappola

PROS: he'd get mad on your behalf (see to when he punched riddle in the face because he insulted mc). cares for you even if he doesn't admit it outwardly, but will do stuff in the background to help you, even if just a little bit like that time in the halloween event where he and deuce personally went to ask the ghosts to make a costume for mc and grim so they wouldn't have to miss out. playful, there wouldn't be a day that's boring when with him.

CONS: got an extremely loose tongue that got him into trouble loads of times. can't really shut up which is very bad...! he sometimes doesn't think before speaking so ahaha. SO irresponsible sometimes he can fight grim on that. remember when he ran from his punishment at the start of the game? yeah. also is really embarrassing sometimes i have to turn my phone off to ponder about life whenever he says some stupid crap that WILL come back and bite him in the ass later on. also will probably get bored of you? like that one time he ghosted his middle school girlfriend because he doesn't wanna do it anymore... eeeeyikes.

MY FINAL VERDICT: 6/10. the honeymoon phase will be the best, and the rest you just gotta hope he doesn't pull an average teenage boy.

Deuce Spade

PROS: so so so extremely sweet. is willing to do almost anything to make it up to you if he ever wronged you. is willing to change, like how he decided to try and become a model student because he saw his mom crying about him being a delinquent, so if he has any flaws/bad habits that make you uncomfortable he'd try to be better. brave, like stupidly so. was ready to fight malleus in malleus's sr lab coat vignette even if it meant he'd die LMFAOOO. he's also someone who'd get mad on your behalf, but even more than ace. dude WILL get into a brawl with ten people for you. passionate. he'd also be so gentle and kind towards you like how he treats mc in game, never raising his voice at you and if he inadvertently does it he'd apologize immediately. his determination is amazing too. his love for eggs is also really cute... sorry im just rambling now i just really love him bye

CONS: oblivious and very gullible. there's been SO many times where he agrees too fast or just believed everything without a fact check. like in glorious masquerade where azul was talking to him about taking his UM he just went "okay!" without asking why. would probably get into a lot of unneeded trouble for this fact alone.

MY FINAL VERDICT: 10/10. this is a bias on my part but he'd make the sweetest and most amazing boyfriend EVER. he's trying!!! he really is!!! i think he's charmingly idiotic gahahahha hhahaa

HEARTSLABYUL MOST DATEABLE TO LEAST DATEABLE:

DEUCE > TREY > CATER > RIDDLE > ACE

[croquis-el]

Well, um, hiya☆

I've come to life a little here and brought you some interesting features in the characters' spoken language

To begin with, let's look at the male trio of main characters: Naruhodō, Mitsurugi, Odoroki (Wright, Edgeworth, Justice)

Some people know it, some don't, but in Japanese there are many options for how to refer to yourself, i.e. "I" can be said with different pronouns and they are all ranked by gender (there are also gender-neutral ones) and the level of politeness.

The first one we have is Naruhodō.

He always, regardless of the situation, uses the pronoun "boku" (ぼく) in relation to himself.

僕 (ぼく)

僕 (boku) is a first-person pronoun often associated with male speakers. It has earnest, polite, cultured connotations. Overall, 僕 (boku) has a softer, less aggressive than 俺 (ore), another common pronoun with masculine connotations.

Naruhodō uses it both in the first trilogy, when he is 24-26 years old, and after the 7-year gap, when he is 33-35. It doesn't matter if he is in the courtroom or talking to friends - he always uses "boku".

言わずと知れた、ぼくだ。 若手実力派弁護士として、 今年で3年目に入る。

Iwazu to shireta, bokuda. Wakate jitsuryoku-ha bengoshi to shite, kotoshi de 3-nen menihairu.

It goes without saying that it is me. I am a young and talented lawyer, and this is my third year in the industry.

___________________________________________

ぼく････今、弁護士を 目指して、勉強しているんです。

boku ima, bengoshi o mezashite, benkyō shite iru ndesu.

I'm studying to become a lawyer.

___________________________________________

いいや。ぼくは、 大学は芸術学部だったからね。

Ī ya. Boku wa, daigaku wa geijutsu gakubudattakara ne.

No. I entered the arts department at the university.

___________________________________________

When addressing someone, Naruhodo uses pronoun "omae".

お前 (おまえ)

お前 is a second-person pronoun that's masculine and rough — it's often used for cussing! It could also be a way to show affection to close friends, partners, and family in a very casual manner.

It is curious that he only addresses Mitsurugi this way, while he addresses the others (Mayoi, Odoroki, etc.) by name + suffix (Mayoi-chan, Odoroki-kun).

もしかして、おまえ････ やったんじゃないの?

Moshikashite, omae yatta n janai no?

Maybe you... did it?

___________________________________________

そういうおまえだって、捜査の時は 証拠品をつきつけまくってたとか。

Sōiu omae datte, sōsa no toki wa shōko-hin o tsukitsuke makutteta to ka.

Even you, who is like that, apparently presented a lot of evidence during the investigation.

___________________________________________

おはよう。思ったより早かったねえ ････オドロキくん。

Ohayō. Omottayori hayakatta ne e Odoroki-kun.

Good morning. It was earlier than I thought... Odoroki-kun.

___________________________________________

Next up we have Mitsurugi.

Mr. Politeness uses the pronoun "watashi" when referring to himself.

私 (わたし/わたくし)

わたし (watashi) is quite a common first-person pronoun as it's used regardless of gender, and both in casual and formal situations.It also has a certain elegant, sophisticated feel to it.

It also does not change over time, and is used by him both at 24-26 and at 34-35 years old.

私が異議をとなえれば、裁判長は かならず聞き入れるだろう、と。

Watashi ga igi o tonaereba, saiban-chō wa kanarazu kikiirerudarou, to.

If I raised an objection, the judge would certainly listen.

___________________________________________

私が検事の職をまっとうできるのも、 周りの誰かの支えがあってこそ。

Watashi ga kenji no shoku o mattō dekiru no mo, mawari no dareka no sasae ga atte koso.

It is only thanks to the support of those around me that I am able to carry out my duties as a prosecutor.

___________________________________________

礼を言うのは････ 私のほうだ、成歩堂。

rei o iu no wa watashi no hōda, Naruhodō.

I should be the one to thank you, Naruhodo.

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But he has a special attitude towards the informal address "you". And by the way, it depends on the situation Mitsurugi is in, and not on who he is addressing.

Because he uses at least 4 (maybe more, I couldn't catch them all) options of address!

The first is "omae". We have already discussed it, so I will not repeat myself. But the situation in which it is used is when Mitsurugi tries to be cheeky, when he makes fun of others (most often, of course, Naruhodō)

お前のせいだぞ。成歩堂。

Omae no seida zo. Naruhodō.

It's your fault, Naruhodō.

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異国でも証拠品のつきつけとは、

お前も相変わらずだな。

Ikoku demo shōko-hin no tsukitsuke to wa, omae mo aikawarazuda na.

You're still the same, presenting evidence even in a foreign country.

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Next, the address "kimi".

君 (きみ/キミ)

君 (kimi) is a second-person pronoun with various nuances. Some dictionaries define 君 as a pronoun you can use in a friendly way towards someone of equal or lower status. These days, however, the way 君 is perceived varies quite a bit from person to person.

Outside of hierarchical situations like the workplace, 君 is used a lot to sound literary or poetic.

成歩堂。折り入って キミに頼みたいことがある。

Naruhodō. Oriitte kimi ni tanomitai koto ga aru.

Naruhodō. There's something I'd like to ask you.

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キミのいない法曹界は 平和そのものだったよ。

Kimi no inai hōsōkai wa heiwa sonomonodatta yo.

The legal profession would be at peace without you.

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いや。････････だが、結局 キミの力にはなれなかった。

Īya. Daga, kekkyoku kimi no chikara ni hanarenakatta.

No... But in the end, I couldn't be of any help to you.

In the example, Mitsurugi asks Naruhodō for help, so I don't think it's a hierarchy thing. It's more of an equal thing. (Correct me if I'm wrong)

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And then comes the most epic part. Kisama.

貴様 (きさま/キサマ)

貴様 (kisama) is a second-person pronoun that's masculine and rough, it's often in combination with vulgar language!

Although it's associated with masculinity, that doesn't mean it's a pronoun only for men. Even if you don't use 貴様 regularly, it's a great way of expressing your anger.

貴様 can also be a way to show affection in a very casual way towards close friends, partners, and family. In this case, the above example would be playful, rather than showing genuine anger.

Mitsurugi uses it when he gets angry (usually in the courtroom) and sometimes in relation to friends. So, the area of ​​application is justified by its purpose as a pronoun.

キサマの娘が、人を小さなハコに 詰め込むというショーをな!

Kisama no musume ga, hito o chīsana Hako ni tsumekomu to iu shō o na!

Your daughter puts people into tiny boxes in a show!

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き、キサマなどに、美的感覚を 非難されるイワレはない!

kisama nado ni, biteki kankaku o hinan sa reru iware wanai!

You have no right to criticize aesthetic sense!

And the last one - addressing by name + suffix or without suffix (Mayoi-kun, Naruhodō)

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Next - Odoroki Hosuke (Apollo Justice)

He's a real manly man, haha. He always uses the pronoun "ore".

俺 (おれ/オレ)

俺 (ore) is a first-person pronoun with a strong masculine feel. It sounds "manly" and less gentle than 僕. 俺 is also a pretty casual pronoun and can be seen as vulgar, especially when used in formal situations. In order to use 俺 naturally, the speech style also needs to match the manliness of 俺.

オレは、ここの事務所の 所長さんに会いに来たんだよ。

ore wa, koko no jimusho no shochō-san ni ai ni kita nda yo.

I came here to see the director of this office.

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オレも、ちょっとならできるよ。

A odoroki ore mo, chottonara dekiru yo.

I can do it a little bit magic too.

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But he doesn't bother with addressing others, and always addresses them by name + suffix (Naruhodo-san, Minuki-chan, Garyu-kenji, Mitsurugi-kenji)

成歩堂さんが 弁護士をやめたのって････

Naruhodō-san ga bengoshi o yameta notte

Naruhodō-san quit being a lawyer...

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(みぬきちゃん。 片付け始めたぞ････)

(Minuki-chan. Katadzuke hajimeta zo)

(Minuki-chan, you're starting to clean up...)

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P.S.

I hope this will clarify the characters a bit and give you a new perspective on them.

One day, I'll do the same with the main female characters (because it takes a lot of time, but I bless those who post screen recordings and screenshots, thanks to them I can quickly find the right moment).

There may be errors and typos, don't be afraid to point them out to me