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archiveikemen · 11 months

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Minamoto no Yoshitsune Main Story: Chapter 1

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection. I do not own any of the original content. Please support CYBIRD by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

❥･• Warnings and FAQ

i did this sometime last year, so i've already lost all the screenshots. oops.

(Gather demonic powers and break the deal with Tamamo... then I'll definitely open my own clinic!)

Keeping my dreams of leading an ordinary, blissful life close to my heart, I gathered my resolve and looked forward to the days ahead.

Yuno: Please take good care of me, everyone!

Yoritomo: If you can still give such a clear response, you're doing a good job — for now, that is.

Shigehira: How can you treat her this warmly? The enemy is Yoshitsune.

As he spoke, Shigehira's eyes had a look of caution.

(Yoshitsune...)

– Flashback Start –

Yoshitsune: I came back from the brink of death, to defeat Yoritomo. In order to do that, I surrendered my soul to a demon.

– Flashback End –

(That's Yoritomo's younger brother, right?)

(But, just to defeat Yoritomo, he made a deal with a demon... Kurama.)

Yuno: Um, what kind of man is Lord Yoshitsune?

Tamamo: I'm interested in knowing too. Even though Yoshitsune now has Kurama's demonic powers, he was a force that was once defeated, am I right?

Tamamo: And yet, you guys claim to need Yuno's help.

Tamamo: Could it be that you don't have the confidence to go up against him?

Yuno: Hey, Tamamo!?

(If you say it like that...)

The rim of Kagetoki's glasses shined, and a sharp gaze pierced right through us.

Kagetoki: Considering that the two of you are a regular country girl, and a dumb fox that has been asleep in a rock for hundreds of years, I'm not surprised that you don't understand.

Yuno: C-country girl... you're not wrong about that, but...

(Your tongue is really sharp!)

Morinaga: Hey, Kagetoki. The two of them are helping us, don't use that tone with them.

Tamamo: That's right, show us some respect.

Kagetoki: Pardon me. I was just being honest.

Morinaga: Ka Ge To Ki?

Kagetoki: ...

Kagetoki took a step away from Morinaga and kept his mouth shut.

(Morinaga is smiling, could there be something else hidden behind that smile...?)

Shigehira: You're straying away from the main subject.

Yoritomo: No need to get hung up on it, Shigehira.

Yoritomo: The one who would know best how great of a threat Yoshitsune is, is a member of the Heike, who once fought him directly.

Yuno: Heike...

(Come to think of it, Shigehira's full name is 'Taira no Shigehira'...)

Even though I'm only an ordinary 'country girl', I know that Heike and Genji were at war for a long period of time.

Yuno: If Shigehira is a member of the Heike, why did he join Lord Yoritomo's army...?

Shigehira: Usually, I'd just say that it's unnecessary for you to know. But I guess I'll tell you.

Shigehira: — It's because I fought Yoshitsune and lost.

(What?)

The flame in Shigehira’s eyes seemed to flicker.

Yoritomo: Although Shigehira's appearance may show otherwise, he was a great general in the Heike.

Yoritomo: Back then, the Heike were already at the end of their rope. Therefore, we can't say that their loss was due to Shigehira's incompetence.

Yoritomo: It was Yoshitsune who kicked Heike aside and won a flashy victory.

Shigehira: I was supposed to be executed right there, but Lord Yoritomo spared me for some unknown reason.

Shigehira: So we formed an alliance, and now I'm a member of the Kamakura Shogunate. Is that enough information?

Yuno: Y-yes.

(I'm sure there's something deeper going on, but I don't feel like asking any more questions.)

Shigehira: Yoshitsune, the man you're about to fight, is more than just a monster.

(You're talking about when Genji defeated the Heikei...)

Yuno: Are you saying that he was already extremely strong... even before obtaining powers from Kurama?

Tamamo: Sounds terrible, doesn't it? He's what we'd call a one-man army.

Shigehira: That's right. He was already an incredibly tough enemy to begin with, and now he's got demonic powers.

Shigehira was frowning, but it wasn't out of fear. It was his determination to fight.

(The others... all look like brave samurai.)

Kagetoki: ...At that time, under Lord Yoritomo's orders, I was accompanying Lord Yoshitsune.

Yuno: Does that mean you watched Lord Yoshitsune fight up close?

Tamamo: How was it?

Kagetoki: It was indeed an insane battle.

(What...)

Kagetoki continued calmly.

Kagetoki: Despite being a general, he rushed to the frontlines, wielding his sword fiercely, willing to lay down his life...

Kagetoki: He has no problem pulling off crazy, and even deadly moves.

Kagetoki: Everyone on his army was willing to die with him, as if they were possessed.

Morinaga: Rumor has it that grass will not grow on land Lord Yoshitsune has stepped on.

Morinaga: When I first met him, I was astonished to see how skilled he was in swordsmanship and warfare, contrary to his graceful appearance.

(Even the members of the Shogunate are all saying things that show how strong he is...!)

Yuno: ...He sounds amazing.

As I mumbled under my breath, Yoritomo's lips curled into a smile.

Yoritomo: No matter what state the battle is in, Yoshitsune has the abilities to single-handedly turn things around.

Yoritomo: To be honest, we would've lost some of our battles if it wasn't for him.

(It's hard to believe that there's someone that incredible without seeing it with your own eyes.)

(But...)

(Yoshitsune definitely didn't seem like an ordinary man.)

The mere thought of his cold stare was enough to make me go numb with fear.

Tamamo: Kurama could tell that Yoshitsune's soul was not that of an ordinary human being.

Tamamo: Neither the way he fought nor the way he lived was ordinary.

Yuno: I have to fight someone like that...

Yoritomo: Are you afraid?

Yuno: I- I'm not.

Shigehira: What an obvious lie. Your voice is trembling.

Yuno: Ermm... I'm trembling with fighting spirit!

Shigehira: ...You?

(I'm not afraid... but I'm sure that I will be when the time comes.)

(I need to have a strong heart.)

Yoritomo: Now, it's getting late. We should head in to get some rest.

Yuno: Um... what should I do starting tomorrow?

Yoritomo: Do whatever you like. I'll have a room prepared for you.

Yuno: Sounds like trouble, from the way you say it.

Yoritomo: Let the maid know if you need anything. And if you're bored, I guess I can arrange some entertainment for you, such as singers or dancers.

(Uhm...)

Yuno: That's not what I meant!

Yoritomo: Then what is it that you meant?

Yuno: I was wondering if I'm supposed to just be a sitting duck while waiting for the battle against Yoshitsune.

Yuno: Lord Yoritomo, you said that you'll hire me, right?

Yuno: I'm employed by you, so I can't possibly just sit there doing nothing at all.

Yoritomo: ...

(I'm getting a bad feeling about this...)

For some reason, Yoritomo was staring at me very intently before switching to a pleasant expression.

Yoritomo: Heh? I see you're taking this very seriously. Alright, I'll give you a proper job.

Yuno: Really...?

Yoritomo: Of course.

Yoritomo: Kagetoki. We received a letter last night from another nation, asking for war reinforcements.

Kagetoki: Yes, we did. But it's only a little skirmish between two small nations, I don't think there is a need for the Shogunate to interfere.

Yoritomo: I also thought of ignoring it. But, right now, I think it'd be good to use this as an opportunity to form an alliance with them, in preparation for the upcoming big war.

Yoritomo: Morinaga.

Morinaga: Oh, so you're up for it?

Yoritomo: Yes. Take Yuno with you and check what's the current situation.

(Me!?)

Yuno: Please hold on a minute! Why are you taking me to a battlefield out of a sudden...?

When I voiced out my question, Yoritomo smiled at me.

Yoritomo: Didn't you tell me you wanted a job?

Yoritomo: As the saying goes, it's better to grow accustomed to something than to learn it, right?

(You're not wrong, but ——)

Yuno: Don't you think it's a little too harsh to throw me into a battlefield without prior warning!?

I was stunned at the suffocating atmosphere of the battlefield.

Morinaga: Sorry, Yuno.

Yuno: No, no... you don't have to apologise, Morinaga.

We were at the main camp, where a war had just started.

Morinaga received reports from his messengers, and gave his instructions to each unit.

(I heard that the soldiers were told that I'm accompanying them as an apothecary...)

(I'm getting the feeling that I'm being watched... do I look so out of place?)

I wondered if Tamamo would be ordered to do this too.

He was instructed to remain at the castle and give Yoritomo information about Kurama's abilities.

Yuno: This is all happening way too suddenly... is Lord Yoritomo always like this?

Morinaga: Except for when he's trying to feign friendliness.

Morinaga's laughter was so refreshing, it didn't suit the battlefield.

Morinaga: Hmm, I don't think Lord Yoritomo sent you here just to spite you.

Yuno: ...Is that so?

Morinaga: Even the bravest of warriors will feel fearful during their very first battle.

Morinaga: What's more, you're a regular citizen with no combat training.

Morinaga: If you get used to being on the battlefield, you won't have difficulty overcoming any unexpected challenges in your battles.

Yuno: Oh...

Those words made me remember what happened last night.

– Flashback Start –

Yoritomo: Are you okay, Morinaga!

Morinaga: Yes, it's nothing serious.

Morinaga: Beware of the strange wind, it's like a blade.

Yoshitsune: As expected of the 'Fierce General' Adachi Morinaga, you managed to survive it.

Yoshitsune: A shame it was too weak to kill you, otherwise I would have found this more enjoyable.

– Flashback End –

(At that time, it was the first time we saw Yoshitsune’s strange abilities, but Yoritomo and Morinaga were able to remain calm.)

(It might be because... they're more than experienced in being in dangerous situations during battle.)

Yuno: On the battlefield, there will be times when one finds themselves all alone.

Yuno: So, I think I should get used to it...

Morinaga: The one we're on right now is only a small skirmish. As long as we remain in the main camp, chances of us being attacked by the enemy are kept to a minimum.

Morinaga: I think Lord Yoritomo took that point into consideration before sending you here.

Yuno: Well, if Lord Yoritomo had made his intentions clear from the very beginning, he could've easily convinced me to come instead of forcing me here...

Morinaga: That's just the kind of man he is.

Morinaga stood up when he saw a messenger rushing into the camp.

(I still don't know the samurai or the members of the Shogunate well.)

A few hours later...

(I wonder what's happening out there. The sun is setting...)

Morinaga: Thank you for treating the injured, Yuno.

Yuno: Don't mention it! It's the most I can do to help.

Time passed by so quickly as I was busy caring for the wounded.

Morinaga: It looks like we'll emerge victorious in this battle for sure, and it's all thanks to your help.

Yuno: Really!?

(That's a relief. We can all return home safely...!)

But my happiness didn't last for long ——

It felt like something was off about the atmosphere at the main camp.

Morinaga: ...What's with the ruckus at the frontline?

As if to confirm Morinaga's words, more wounded soldiers started coming to the camp.

(I can handle it for now, but if this goes on, we'll run out of medicine.)

(What on earth is going on...?)

Scout: Lord Morinaga! The enemy has sent their reinforcements. They have about a hundred more men!

Morinaga: A hundred? From the looks of it, there's way more than that.

Morinaga: I'm estimating that they have around a thousand more men.

(A thousand... that's how strong the enemy is?)

Morinaga: ...Yuno.

Morinaga took a deep breath and turned to me.

Morinaga: Can you leave the battlefield with an escort?

Yuno: But, what about you...?

Morinaga: I will personally go to the frontlines.

(Ah...)

Morinaga's words contained a strong determination.

(I'm worried about leaving Morinaga here, but it seems that it's inevitable in this situation.)

(There are people who need his help.)

(At the very least... I won't let myself get in the way!)

I tightly clenched my trembling hands.

Yuno: ...Understood. Be careful out there.

Morinaga: You too. Take care.

We split up and I went to join my escorts.

It's been a while since I last had to desperately hold onto a galloping horse for dear life...

(Hm? It looks like we have a message.)

After a soldier rode up to us and made his announcement, there was a commotion amongst the soldiers...

Yuno: Excuse me, may I know what's going on?

I asked a nearby soldier.

Soldier 1: To be honest...

Soldier 1: We received intel that our rear guard and supply unit has been targeted.

Yuno: Wha—

Soldier 1: If the rear guard, who monitors the battle situation and provides supplies to our troops, is destroyed... it'll be a great blow to those fighting at the front!

(Oh no...)

I pictured Morinaga and the other soliders we left behind.

Soldier 2: We can't just ignore it. We must defend our supplies. Let's go!

Soldier 3: ...But we'll have to fight while protecting Yuno.

Soldier 3: The fastest route is through the animal trail, it's too dangerous for people who aren't used to horseriding!

(I'm being a burden...)

I made a decision and opened my mouth to tell them.

Yuno: ...Um, if there is a place where I can hide, please just leave me there!

Soldier 3: But...

(My voice is trembling... but...)

(They're fighting for their lives. I can't hold them back.)

Yuno: If there's going to be a fight, it'll be dangerous for me to accompany you. I don't want my presence to get in your way.

Yuno: I'd rather you come pick me up after the fighting has calmed down...

The soliders glanced at one another.

After a brief moment of silence, one solider stepped forward.

Soldier 3: ...Yuno is right.

Soldier 3: The battle will end by nightfall. Rather than sticking with us, it'd be better for her to hide in a safe spot.

Soldier 3: I'll show you the way, please follow me!

Yuno: Got it!

We entered the forest, and I was guided to my hiding spot...

Soldier 3: There is a small hut up ahead, it's used by the local hunters. In case of emergency, you can send a smoke signal...

Soldier 3: I'll come pick you up in a while, so please bear with it.

Yuno: ...Thank you so much. I hope all of you return safely.

The moment the soldiers disappeared from my sight, those negative feelings finally started flooding to me.

(I feel uneasy...)

– Flashback Start –

Morinaga: If you get used to being on the battlefield, you won't have difficulty overcoming any unexpected challenges in your battles.

– Flashback End –

(All I can do is wait for the soldiers to return.)

(If anything bad happens, I can just send a smoke signal... everything is okay.)

I comforted myself made my way through the grass towards the hut.

I opened the door of the simple hut —

???: W-who is it...

(What!?)

In a dark corner of the hut, a soldier was laying down in agony.

(He's badly hurt!)

Yuno: Are you alright...?

I approached the soldier without thinking, and noticed a flag laying next to him.

(That's...)

(...The enemy's crest!)

Enemy Soldier: A woman...? What are you doing here...

Yuno: I...

(If he finds out I'm an enemy... he'll kill me for sure.)

I backed away and my back hit the door.

Enemy Soldier: Please wait... I don't know which town you're from, but you can't go outside until this war ends...

Yuno: What...?

The soldier gave me those words of advice, despite not having the energy to move.

(This man...)

(Even though he doesn't know that I'm an enemy... he's still worried about me while covered in injuries.)

(If I treat his injuries now, he'll have a chance of survival.)

(But, if I save an enemy soldier, how will I face Morinaga and his men who are risking their lives to fight the enemy?)

(What should I do...)

Enemy Soldier: Argh...

Yuno: Um...

Blood was pooling on the floor beneath the soldier.

(I...)

I took out my first-aid kit and a piece of cloth.

Enemy Soldier: W-what are you doing...

Yuno: Hold still. I'm an apothecary.

(I don't know whether what I'm doing is right, but... I'd rather attempt to save him, than to regret it in the future.)

A while later...

(The bleeding is stopped for now...but the wound is quite big. I need to clean it and apply medicine to prevent infection.)

(If I remember correctly, there's a creek nearby. So if I want to head outside for a bit...)

Yuno: Are you able to wait for a while? I'll go get some water.

Enemy Soldier: Okay...

I left the solider and headed for the creek.

(This is...)

The land was in a horrible state.

Broken arrows on fire pierced the ground, it was a sign that a fierce battle had taken place here.

(I got the water, I should quickly head back to the hut...)

As I pursed my lips and was about to leave...

???: What are you doing here — Fox Princess?

(That voice...)

I heard a voice from behind me, one that I will never forget even after hearing it only once.

(No way... it can't be him.)

I felt the temperature of the air around me drop, and I broke into cold sweat, unable to move.

The sound of footsteps approaching me was vivid.

(...I need to escape!)

I tried forcing my stiff legs to move —

Yoshitsune: Stop right there.

Yuno: Ah...

He roughly tugged my arm and brought me to my knees.

Yoshitsune: I didn't expect us to reunite this soon.

Yuno: Lord Yoshitsune...

Eyes resembling amethysts stared down at me.

(His stare is so cold...)

I tried to turn my face away in fear, but was stopped by his hand on my chin.

Yoshitsune: I joined this battle on a whim, but I didn't think there would be enemies lurking in the shadows.

Yuno: Were the enemy's reinforcements... the Rebel Army?

Yoshitsune: I don't have enough soldiers with me to be considered an army.

(I remember Yoritomo said...)

(...Yoshitsune has the abilities to single-handedly turn a battle around, regardless of the situation.)

(He's the reason why the fighting escalated so quickly!)

Yoshitsune: If you're here, it means that the Shogunate is on the battlefield, am I right?

Yuno: That's...

Yoshitsune: Answer me.

A chill ran down my spine.

Yuno: ...Lord Yoritomo isn't here.

Yoshitsune: — Oh, really?

Yoshitsune: Then it's Yoritomo's own fault for losing his trump card.

Yuno: Ah...

I held my breath as the tip of his sword was pointed at my throat.

My skin got goosebumps, and my body was trembling in fear.

Yoshitsune: ...Hate me all you want, Yuno.

#ikemen genjiden #ikemen series #cybird ikemen #cybird otome #otome #ikegen main story #yoshitsune main story #niki translates

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gureshinlover · 11 months

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Hello I tried to translate the prologue voice drama tracks of JAMROCK (Music Project) and I’ll share them one by one. The wiki fandom page for it is on the way so I hope JAMROCK will reach more fans ✨✨

Here are the links to the drama track on youtube and spotify. The prologue tracks’ video on youtube is really fun so I’d reccommend watching it

Translation of [Prologue: TRACK01] on below:

[Prologue: TRACK01]

One: Ah, ah~, …. AHEM!! Yo people~! Are you REGGAEing alright?

Yknow today… After eating chicken in morning, somehow, I got a stomachache…

Aah, right, and also, as Oneness organizing, it looks like we’ll be making a country-wide Reggae audition. YA~Y! HAHAHAHA!

If you like Reggae, anyone is welcomed~ If you win the audition, we’ll give you money and the right to make your CD debut.

I'll listen to whatever you say. Hehe.

Listen to the detailed rules by Oneness’ members. I also dunno much anyway.

GYAHAHA!

Well, lately skillful newcomers are being noisy so, I thought I might discover some youngsters~ Somethin like that?

Aah but, FREEDOM ・LOVE ・ PEACE are Oneness’ motto so, get along and have fun ok?

And lastly, this tournament’s name is Ragga Clash! Sounds fun right?

So! ♪ I’m waiting for everyone’s submissions, ok~ Peace out~

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Sai: Aah, One Paisen… You really did it~

Lyrii: It’s not like stuff like this started just now y’know.

Sai: That’s right but I think this one was a large-scale one.

Queen: Hey, One! What was that broadcast just now!?

Sai: Hi~ Queen ♡ I knew you’d come

Queen: Ah, Sai, Lyrii… It’s just you two? What about One?

Lyrii: Who knows

Queen: Don’t say ‘who knows’, wasn’t the broadcast just now from this room….

Ah—, recording huh

Sai: Exactly like that

Queen: Haa… Really, always getting swayed around by that guy.

Sai: I love that guy though, so I’ll forgive him whatever he does ♡

Queen: You’re the same as usual. You’re forgiving him everytime.

That broadcast reached all the people in nation y’know! We can’t withdrawn from it.

…Gosh, and he did it without consulting us, Oneness, too...

Lyrii: I think it’s a good thing. Might see some fun stuff.

Sai: Oh, unlike Queen, Lyrii-chan is interested?

Lyrii: I’ve been bored lately you see

Queen: Lyrii~, because you support him like this, One gets hyped up.

Lyrii: It’s not like I supported it. I’m only sticking around ‘cuz it looks fun. Don’t you always get hyped up in the end too

Queen: Hu~h?

Sai: Now, now. As One Paisen, I’m sure he’s thinking about a lot of stuff too.

About Babylon-Nova too, he also—

Queen: Hey, didn’t we say we wouldn’t talk about him!

Sai: Pardon me then. …*sigh* A lot changed since that time huh.

Queen: …And? Where’s One who said all that stuff and left?

Sai: He can’t be found in his official residence, is he playing hide and seek like usual?

Queen, Ririi, let’s go find hi—

Queen: I won’t go.

Lyrii: I pass.

Sai: You two are so boring…

Lyrii: Anyway, even if we don’t go out to search him, can’t you look at that thing like always?

Sai: Ah, GPS? Of course I checked it but you see… Here, this.

He left his phone and left~ Even if I put on a GPS, I can’t do anything if the he leaves the object in question, right.

I had added it on his accessories too but he took them all off.

Queen: … I was overlooking the phone, but you did something like that even to his accessories?

Sai: Something like this, isn’t it the basis of stalking?

Queen: *sigh*… Lyrii, gimme one too

Lyrii: Here

Queen: Thanks

Queen: *sigh*

Sai: Hey, you guys. I’ll say it once but, this is a smoking prohibited area, ok?

Lyrii & Queen: Don’t care.

Sai: Eh~, I’m not saying anything wrong, right?

Aah someone please! Can’t anyone give me some love!?

Queen: Why don’t you find an apprentice or something from the audition?

Sai: Aah, Nice Idea! It’d be good if I found a good kid.

…Anyway. Well, there’s nothing we can do if we can’t find One Paisen. Since it started, we have to do it.

We can’t be careless, shall we start the preparations?

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Hideri: Visitors… aren’t coming……

GAHHHH!! WHYYYY!!

Even though I polish here to be sparkling-clean everyday, and rise the water temperature to highest!!

Regular Customer Old Man: What izzit? You’re not satisfied with only me!?

Hideri: It’s not like that! You’re coming here everyday gramps, and I’m super grateful! But….

Regular Customer Old Man: Well, those regular customers from the past all got their legs and foots weakened now, so they became unable to come even if they want to.

I’m the only one left.

Hideri: Gramps…

Regular Customer Old Man: *sigh* Tora Hot Spring in the days when you were little is really nostalgic

In those days, your grandpa was doing well, and there were many customers so it was lively here…

You used to sing a lot in the bath together with your friend…

Hideri: Aah… Stuff like that happened right?

Regular Customer Old Man: Yeah… Is your friend doing well?

Hideri: Hm? Ah—… I haven’t met up with him for a while, so I dunno.

Regular Customer Old Man: Is that so…

Hideri: Is he doing well I wonder, that Tama…

Regular Customer Old Man: *sobs*

Hideri: Huh? Wait, gramps are you cryin’!?

Regular Customer Old Man: *sob* I recalled a lot…

Hideri: Ehh…. Ah, should I wash your back?

Regular Customer Old Man: Hm… Please….

[One: Ah, ah~, …. AHEM!! Yo people!~ Are you REGGAEing alright?]

Hideri: Ah, what?

[One: Yknow today… After eating chicken in the morning, somehow, i got a stomachache…]

Hideri: So it’s the ruler’s management broadcast huh… Whatever

Regular Customer Old Man: Woah…! It’s One Paisen!? Th-Th-Th- That means I gotta go!!

Hideri: Eh….Wait a sec gramps! What about your back!?

Regular Customer Old Man: I’ll come back later~! Uii~~ I’m fired up~~!!

Hideri: Ha!? Where did your tears from just now go to! Before that, get on your clothes! Clothes I said! CLOTHES~~!

*One talking in background*

Hideri: *huff huff* Eh? Gramps already disappeared… Isn’t he too fast…

Anyway, the people of this country really love Oneness huh…

Is Reggae somethin’ that good? I don’t know that much…

[One: And lastly, this tournament’s name is Ragga Clash! Sounds fun right? So! I’m waiting for everyone’s submissions ok~ Peace out~ ]

*cheering sounds*

Hideri: E-Everyone is super fired up….A tournament will be done huh? Well, I don’t have any experience with Reggae so it doesn’t have anything to do with me.

More than Reggae, I think the bath-house is much better though….

It can make your fatigue disappear if you’re tired, can heal you, can warm up your body and heart…

Isn’t it the best?

I want to show a lot more people how good it is. I want to get back the cool old Tora Hot Spring like gramps said…

*sigh* Aah, can’t I make a use of this uprush since it’s a big chance… Making a bathing fee during the event for example…

For now, I gotta just check it out first

Hideri: Heh, info is already out as expected. It’s on top news?

I want Tora Hot Spring to liven up the world like this too— Wait, the one who wins until the end gets 10 Million donza as prize!?

Oi oi, if I got that much money in my hands, reconstruction Tora Hot Spring, no, rebuilding it wouldn’t be a dream!

I can’t be saying I’m inexperienced for this! I have to go!!

WOOOO, I’M ALL FIRED UPPPP!

WAIT AND SEE, 10 MILLION DONZA WILL BE WON BY ME, SENTORA HIDERI HERE--!!!!

#jamrock #jamrock music project #tl #my translations #music project #charamek

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myherowritings · 3 years

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PART 1. A VERY WELL-DESERVED TIP

SUMMARY. Todoroki Shouto was a wealthy, young CEO who inherited his father’s enterprise. You were a barista at a local cafe who wouldn’t mind some extra cash. One day, Shouto came in during an early morning shift and tipped you such a large sum of money, you were certain it had to have been an accident. To your surprise and complete pleasure: It was not.

PAIRING. ceo!todoroki shouto x barista!reader

WORD COUNT. 2.0k

GENRE. ceo/barista au, fluff, eventual smut

WARNINGS. none in this chapter

A/N. my brief work as a barista is finally paying off. i suffered at sbux all to write this fic ✌︎('ω'✌︎ ) LMAOOO i frl had so much fun writing this and i’m very excited to share the next parts ;) i hope you enjoy this fic as much as i do!! xx sof

SERIES MASTERLIST

You were not looking forward to your new work schedule for the next month.

The employee who usually came in for opening shifts at four in the morning gave her two weeks notice...two weeks ago. And since you had your availability open (you knew you should’ve blocked it off and said you had morning class), your manager asked you to fill her place.

The night before your first—of many—morning shifts, you tried tricking yourself into thinking it was a good idea. And it almost worked! Sort of.

You told yourself waking up early when the sun rose worked with your body’s natural circadian rhythm and this experience may adjust your sleep schedule for a healthier one in the long run. Better health and wellbeing and lower risks of cardiovascular disease. Or something. You weren’t too sure exactly; you never paid much attention in biology but it sounded like something you’d find in a textbook, right?

When you arrived on your first day, the morning shift was just as hectic and chaotic as you expected. People in business suits with name brand bluetooth earphones in their ears and the latest new smartphone in their hand filled the shop and waited for their online order. It was as if they wanted the least amount of social interaction possible, which would be fine if being able to make connections with customers wasn’t the most interesting part about being a barista.

Although the cafe you worked at was a small business who actually (tried) to pay their employees fairly and wasn’t a purely money hungry franchise like the certain green siren, it surprisingly had gained enough traction in the area to rival one of those cheap, chain stores.

Good for the business, bad for sleepy workers who could barely function in the mornings.

But you enjoyed working here and the owners were kind, so you did your best to shove away the tiredness and put a bright and cheery smile on your face. The customers were grumpier than you were used to, but who wouldn’t be a little ill-mannered having to go to work at 5 a.m. and probably not leaving until 6 p.m. or later because of bosses who overworked them? Trying to get them their morning coffee with an amiable attitude to start off their day right was something you were more than happy to do.

It was too bad barely any of them gave you the time of day. They just wanted to get their caffeine and leave with as little human interaction as possible. It was understandable, of course, but it wasn’t the lively cafe environment you were used to during later shifts. You sighed, hoping the atmosphere would be friendlier when it wasn’t a major rush hour.

“Hi! I can help the next person in line,” you called for the twentieth time this hour. When they moved forward towards the cash register, you gave them a smile. “Good morning. I hope your day has been going well!”

“It’s been okay, thank you. And yours?”

Your eyes widened in surprise and you almost sputtered over thin air. Someone who actually replied back to what you said and asked about you in return? Even if the intent was a courtesy conversation that was meant to be quick and brief, the sentiment was there—the upholding of the values of common courtesy and human decency. Something too many people seemed to lack.

“I’m good as well! A little tired but what’s to be expected a quarter ‘til 6 a.m.?” you said with a laugh. “Thank you for asking.”

The customer gave a small smile in return and you internally celebrated for finally seeing your first pleasant expression this morning. “Must be even more tiring dealing with all these people. Doesn’t seem easy. I have to commend you for it.”

He was a tall, handsome man with a pretty face, soft-looking hair, and genuinely nice? There was no way this was real; you had to be dreaming.

You twiddled with the pen in your hands, taken aback and mildly embarrassed by the praise. “Just doing my job,” you said with a bashful look. “Thank you, though.” You cleared your throat, not wanting to hold the line up for too long, even if the customer was one you would rather keep talking to than the others. “Now, what can I get started for you today?”

“Right. Can I get a flat white in the medium size?”

“Of course.” You typed in his order into the register before asking, “And is there anything else I can get for you? Like a pastry? Today we have some freshly baked cheese danishes that are really yummy if you’d like to try!”

He thought for a while before shrugging. You weren’t sure if it was your eyes playing tricks on you or he actually had an amused look on his face. “Sure, I’ll take a couple dozen of those as well.”

“A couple dozen—?” your voice faltered. The suggestion of a fresh pastry was one you made to almost every customer, though most turned it down on the spot.

The cafe had a little weekly competition between workers to see who could sell the most pastries in the week and the one who sold most got...well, a free pastry and bragging rights. Admittedly, it wasn’t much, but nothing revved up sales like friendly rivalries. An order of a couple dozen was sure to land you in the top spot this week! Still, you had to make sure he meant it. You’d feel bad if he was just spending all his hard-earned office work money because he was trying to be courteous. (Or at least, you assumed he was some office employee.)

You cautiously asked, “Are you sure?”

Either your eyes were playing tricks on you yet again, or the look of amusement on his face grew even more than before as he said, “I’m sure. One medium flat white and, say, three dozen boxes of cheese danishes, please.”

“C-Coming right up!” you said, quickly entering his order and celebrating your free end-of-the-week pastry in advance. “That will be $42.81. Would that be card or cash?”

“Card.” He pulled out a sleek, black card with gold detailings on it and you never knew you could be sexually attracted to a credit card until now.

“Perfect! Go ahead and swipe, insert, or scan your card now. In the meantime, can I get a name for your order please?”

He scanned his card over the machine before looking back up at you. “It’s To— Ah, Shouto.”

“Shouto?” you asked in confirmation. You assumed it wasn’t ‘Toahshouto’. That sounded too much like the abbreviation used to remember how to find sine, cosine, and tangent.

“Yeah. Shouto.”

You smiled. “Well, Shouto, your order will be ready in a few minutes. Please wait over to your right to pick it up!”

He nodded.

“It was nice meeting you!” you called, waving goodbye. “I hope you have a good rest of your day.”

“Thank you,” he glanced at your nametag, “Y/N.”

Oh, how nice it felt to be treated like a human by a customer and have them actually address your name— And not to say it in a condescending way either.

“Do individual baristas get to keep the tips here?”

You blinked, feeling your face warm up slightly. “We do, actually.” One of your favorite parts of the job, you had to admit.

“Glad to hear.” Shouto pulled out some crisp-looking bills from his wallet and placed one in your hand that said ‘100’ to you. “Thank you for your kind service, Y/N.”

“Wha—” Your eyes widened. You were expecting something along the line of three dollars. Maybe five at most. But a hundred? By the time you had processed what had happened he was walking away from the cash register. “Wait— Shouto...sir! I think you accidentally gave me the wrong amount.”

He shook his head, only briefly turning back to face you. “Nope. It’s for you,” he said simply. “I’m looking forward to the cheese danishes.”

His words left you stunned, but the next customer in line tapped their foot impatiently, signaling it was now time for you to take their order. You hoped the line died down before Shouto left the cafe so you could return the tip, but seeing as how the queue almost extended out the door, you had the sinking feeling that wouldn’t be a possibility.

“Hello, I can take the next customer in line!” you recited cheerfully, mind still occupied by thoughts of your last encounter.

The next few orders went along uneventfully (though you did manage to sell two more cheese danishes) and by the time Shouto got his coffee and pastry boxes, you still had a handful more customers to get through.

“Pardon me real quick,” you said apologetically to the woman in front of you. “Please give me one moment?”

She graced you with a nod and you thanked the stars above for an understanding patron.

“Wait— Excuse me, sir!” You waved in Shouto’s direction before he could exit the cafe. He glanced at you curiously but walked over. In a hushed voice, you said, “I really appreciate the tip, but there’s no way I could accept this much money from you!”

For the first time today, you say the hints of a frown on his face. “You cannot?”

“No! $100 is a lot! You already bought $40 worth of cheese danish pastries— Are you sure you meant to give that big of a tip?”

“Of course.” He took a sip of his coffee with a satisfied hum. “You getting up at such an early hour to take people’s orders with a kind attitude isn’t easy. Plus, trying to build rapport with each of them all while keeping the interacting swift is a difficult task itself. And it’s probably worth more than your current pay, the $100 tip, and then some.”

You blinked, stunned by his words. This man kept surprising you so many times in just one morning.

“I find it ridiculous how certain occupations are paid an ungodly amount more than others, especially when a lot of it comes from privileges you were born into.” Shouto seemed to mumble the last bit to himself, but you were still able to understand what he said. “It’s bullshit.” Before you could respond, he recollected himself. “Eat the rich, right? All that to say, please accept the tip. You deserve it. And I promise it’s of no detriment to me, so please don’t feel bad.”

Seeing the determined look on his face, you couldn’t help but stare at him before nodding. He didn’t say anything you didn’t already believe yourself, and if someone really wanted to give you $100, you weren’t going to fight them on it. Think of all the dumplings you could buy, you told yourself.

“T-Thank you then.” You gingerly placed the folded bill back into your pants pocket. “I think that was really insightful of you and I’m very grateful.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He smiled before glancing towards the exit. “I’m running a bit late for work now, so I should be going. Have a good day, Y/N.”

“You too, Shouto. And… Thank you again!”

With a glowing expression on your face, you walked back to the cash register ready to face the day and talk to more lovely customers!

“Hey, little barista!” a gruff voice called from the line, snapping you out of your stupor. “Hurry it up already before you force me to complain to your manager.”

You internally sighed. You understood they were in a rush, but they still had no right to be that rude.

“Can you even hear me? Or are you too incompetent?”

Cue another internal sigh.

Yeah, okay. Maybe you did deserve this $100 tip.

Regardless of the rude customers that may have come in, at least you had your thoughts of a cute, kind businessman who went by the name of Shouto to get you through your shift. And you could only hope you’d be able to see him again.

a/n: the end of part one folks!! oh what i’d give to have gotten a tip like this when i worked as a barista BAHAHA only in my dreams. i hope you enjoyed this little intro part and are excited for what’s to come !! :3

what to expect in the next part:

~maybe~ y/n will see shouto again and,,perhaps,,get more tips from him idk who knows

old lady imparts some...helpful(?) advice

we briefly get to see shouto’s pov! ;D

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hyenahunt · 3 years

Text

Conquest: Armageddon - 1

Writer: Akira

Season: Spring

Proofreading: royalquintet (JP & ENG)

Translation: haranami

Ibara: You f*cking son of a b*tch! Shall I call you Your Idiocy from now on?! What the hell have you doneeeee?! How much of a fool can you be?!

[Location: Vocal Room]

Ibara: ……

Nagisa: “As God, I shall expel you from Eden for all eternity.”

…Fufu. This is well-filmed; no matter how many times I watch it, I still look cool.

CosPro’s staff are very talented. I’m impressed that they were able to record something of this calibre without me noticing.

…We tend to cut our losses faster than other agencies, and as a result, only those who continue to refine their skills are able to remain.

…Humans are living creatures. We cannot escape from the law of the jungle: survival of the fittest. That is lamentable, but it is nonetheless a truth of this world.

… Fufufu. Ibara, you were scared of me too, weren’t you?

…While I could simply conduct myself in an uncivilized manner and speak aggressively, this "God Mode"-like behavior might be able to inspire fear as well—

…That thought occurred to me, so I wanted to test it out. Surely this, too, can be considered a manifestation of the masculinity and paternity that we personify as Adam.

…We are the rulers — the tyrants — who require no one’s permission to reign. We are the epitome of absolute power: God.

…Well, my father is the true God, not I. But as his son, I am able to perfectly embody that concept as well.

…Yes, it worked wonderfully. If the opportunity arises, I’ll be sure to try it out again.

Ibara: Your Excellency.

Nagisa: …What is it? I wish you’d at least comment every now and then. I was getting lonely; it felt like I was speaking to myself.

I always nod and say “yes, yes” every time you happily chatter on, don’t I?

Ibara: You f*cking son of a b*tch! Shall I call you Your Idiocy from now on?! What the hell have you doneeeee?! How much of a fool can you be?!

Nagisa: …Fufu. In truth, we are not God, omniscient and omnipotent. We are no different to others; we, too, can be called idiots. Taking a bite from the forbidden fruit was simply the beginning of our foolishness.

Ibara: Aghhhh! Enough! What am I to do?! The damage is irreversible! All my plans have gone up in smoke! In smoke, I say! Jesus Christ!

Nagisa: …Fufu. I’m not Jesus, I’m God. [1]

Ibara: Shut up and die!

Ahh, please pardon me! My emotions are in complete disarray at the moment!

But it’s only natural that I’m unable to choose my words properly! All my plans have just been ruined by your little joke!

Originally, I intended on improving His Highness Hiyori's mood through this method and that… I was going to pretend that we’d given him what he wanted so I could control him for my own ends.

Nagisa: …Yes. That’s what I thought you’d do — it’s an old trick of yours.

…Hiyori-kun rebelled against Conquest, and he would thus feel guilty for causing us trouble..

…That’s why it was highly probable he would quietly accept our other requests.

Ibara: That’s exactly right! It was a prime chance for me to make the selfish princess actually listen to the things we say for once!

If I were able to control not just you, but also His Highness, I’d be unrivaled! Unstoppable! Undefeatable! I would laugh — wahaha! — at the top of my lungs!

Nagisa: …You aren’t satisfied with just me? You’re a greedy one, Ibara.

Ibara: And what’s wrong with that, pray tell? Don’t all men desire to be victorious — to hold everything in their hands, no matter what they need to use or destroy to do so?!

Indeed, that is the very reason why I continue to live! So that, one day, I’ll be able to stand at the peak of the world and look down at everyone else!

Nagisa: …Fufu, it’s true. The only way a snake slithering on the ground would be able to look down upon others if he made it to the top of the world.

…I’m used to being under your control, and I actually prefer it that way. However, I won’t allow you to use even Hiyori-kun as a tool for your advancement.

…No — I detest everything that causes Hiyori-kun pain and suffering.

…As the second-born of the Tomoe Corporation, the next-in-line to inherit everything, he’s always played the fool to support his family and his beloved elder brother.

…To put it crudely, he’s lived whilst repressing parts of himself.

…When I lost my father, I was completely at a loss. But that’s when he extended a hand to me and taught me the beauty that lies within this world.

…I was merely someone his household temporarily took in, and yet he truly loved me and accepted me as a member of his family.

…He taught me words and so many other important things. He took care of me and guided me.

…Even though he was the same age as me, simply a child who wanted to play about rowdily.

…I want to let Hiyori-kun — sweet, lovely Hiyori-kun — do what he pleases, at least when he’s an idol.

...So he can rejoice in his life with a smile, filled with happiness.

…No matter what, I won’t forgive anyone who tries to steal away Hiyori-kun’s only joy.

…Not even you.

Ibara: In… Out… In… Out… (takes deep breaths)

Fufu. Well played, Your Excellency. I underestimated you. Although you said that you would leave the issue of Conquest to me—

Nagisa: …Yes. My plan was to make everything progress according to my wishes whilst you were occupied.

…Dangling an ever-so-tempting chunk of bait in front of someone and using it to control them… is a tactic you’ve employed far too often.

…So, how was it? It’s rather unpleasant to have the same thing done to you, isn’t it?

Ibara: ……

Nagisa: …That’s simply your way of living, and it’s not as if I wish to criticize it.

…You get carried away, lost in your desires, and as a result you tend to make silly mistakes. If you keep using the same strategies, it’s only natural that someone will come up with a countermeasure.

…From here on out, you should try to maintain your composure and think things through more. A defeat for you is a defeat for Eden; your losses are my losses as well.

…I’ll trust in you, love you, and leave this to you. Don’t make me lose hope in you. If I do so this time, it won’t be an act.

✦✦✦✦✦

Translation Notes:

[1]: In the original, Ibara says his plans have become おシャカです (oshaka desu) which, in this context, means "useless". However, oshaka (or, usually, oshaka-sama) is also the Buddha's name, so Nagisa replies that, "I'm not the Buddha, I'm God.”

✦✦✦✦✦

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#nagisa ran #ibara saegusa #enstars #ensemble stars #enstars translation #type: event #s: conquest #era: !!#status: complete #hyenahunttl

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milkbaer · 3 years

Text

love to hate you | part 3

„Grateful about the invitation of the queen, they are however not so grateful about her plans.”

previous | masterlist | next

• Pairing: Prince Friedrich x Reader (Princess of Bavaria) • Word count: 4.6k • Warnings: nothing, just the usual

• A/N: Because I’m a total idiot & couldn’t resists … I decided to switch up the collage every 2 chapters or so. C: Hopefully you all enjoy reading part 3 as much I did writing it lol

• Small dictionary: Bärli – a cute nickname, kinda a cute way to say bear Wundervoll – wonderful, lovely, delightful etc. Mein Prinz – my prince Einfach himmlisch – (prob not the best translation) simply heavenly, wonderful, divine … something is just so good that it’s like smth divine

Dear Readers,

You might have heard so already, yet another prince has set foot on English shore. Traveling from the Alps, Karl of Bavaria attended Lady Danbury’s latest soirée. As This Author has heard, they both know each other from the prince’s time at Cambridge. But I fear that I must disappoint all ambitious mamas, having made plans to snatch the other prince. Your Highness has arrived with his wife and daughter, Marie and Y/N of Bavaria. And This Author must admit that amongst the ladies of the ton, the young princess felt like a fresh breath of air. With her gown she truly looked like an edelweiss in the alps. I might say she is able to compete with our Incomparable. But do not fret all my ambitious mamas, I can assure you that the reason for the travels is not the prospect of marriage. There is no intention in looking for a gentleman on the princess’ side. All debutantes must be delighted at that, but I am sure that some gentlemen might not. But who can tell the future? Certainly not This Author, I fear.

– Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers

“I see you’ve left quite the impression, my dear,” spoke the queen, addressing you, but not looking up from the paper she held. It wasn’t the first time that you dined with a queen, but breakfast felt a bit more private and intimate than a banquet. Honestly, Queen Charlotte made you a bit nervous; you didn’t know her, and her palace was enormous and made you feel like you were in a different time. And she intimidated you, a lot. You only knew her for some hours and yet you could tell that she was the queen of giving looks. You were unable to read the queen, maybe she was judging you for something or maybe not. You couldn’t tell.

“Yes? Who did I impress?” you asked, clueless, having no idea who she was referring to. Who could you have impressed that the queen was so delighted?

“Lady Whistledown.” Friedrich’s voice caught you off guard, he hadn’t spoken to you all morning, except for a curt ‘Good Morning’. Even now he wasn’t looking up from his plate. Instead, he shoved some scrambled egg into his mouth. “The paper my aunt is reading.”

Your eyes wandered back to the queen. Indeed, she was still focused on the small, white rectangle in her hand. You wouldn’t be too sure, but she hadn’t looked up from it once. Which means, that this paper must be really good. “Pardon, Your Majesty, but when you’re done reading Lady Whistledown could you lend it to me? I would love to read it too.”

For the first time Queen Charlotte’s eyes detached from the paper and with a quirked brow she looked at you. Was she sizing you up? Was she judging you? Had it been wrong from you to ask for it? To your relief her face turned into a small, amusing smile. “Of course, my dear. You can have it when I’m done.”

The queen was right, this paper was good! You couldn’t connect any of the names to a human being and yet you couldn’t stop reading it. Once you’d knew who this Lady Whistledown was referring to, it would be even better. But you already felt bad for the poor Miss Featherington.

Queen Charlotte watched with pursed lips how you soaked up the gossip of the ton. Solely by your wide, excited but nosy eyes could she, and honestly everyone else, see how much you enjoyed the rag. But the queen wasn’t much interesting in your reading habits. Her royal majesty couldn’t get the words, the praise of the anonymous writer out of her head.

I might say she is able to compete with our Incomparable.

She watched you precisely, examining you from head to toe – or since you were all sitting, your bust. Engrossed by the gossip rag you didn’t notice her sharp, hawk like gaze on you, watching you closely. Nor did anyone else at the table. Friedrich was too occupied by his breakfast, mostly a way to ignore you, and your parents were too engrossed by everything else, the breakfast, the interior.

The queen squinted her eyes, as if that allowed her to see sharp and more of you. She deeply disliked being in the wrong and she counted, she bet on Daphne. But whoever Lady Whistledown was, she was right. You could compete with Daphne, easily. You were a princess after all, nurtured to be flawless. Her sharp eyes moved to her nephew.

She chose Daphne.

You were a princess; you weren’t participating in this game.

She wished, no wanted Friedrich to find his match in Daphne.

The Queen was never wrong.

But …

Everyone likes an interesting season, don’t they?

“Say, how do you know each other?” she asked, leaning back into her chair.

“Oh, they know each other since childhood,” Marie answered. Neither you nor Friedrich were listening. You were too focused on people you didn’t know, and your own appearance, and Friedrich was too focused on ignoring you, blending out as much as possible.

The queen pursed her lips, brooding something under that massive wig of hers. “I see.”

While reading a column about yet another unknown girl, your eyes landed on Friedrich’s name. Curious on what this lady had to say about him, and the girl, you read every line precisely. But it was hardly about him, more about a girl named Daphne and that she has caught his attention. Bridgerton … Daphne … the names sounded familiar, but you couldn’t associate a face to them.

“Who is Miss Daphne Bridgerton?” you asked all sudden. At the mention of Daphne’s name Friedrich looked up, even though he swore he’d never react in any way to your voice again.

Friedrich stared at you in annoyance and disbelief. “Are you joking? You met her at the soirée.”

“Well, I met quite a few people. I can’t remember everyone.” He didn’t know why but your ignorance about Daphne irritated, no, angered him. How could you not know her?

“Oh, Bärli,” your mother Marie stated, knowing of your difficulties. “Reddish hair, blue dress. I think she was with this one duke.”

At the mention of a certainduke the queen and Friedrich frowned.

“Oh! The one with the bangs?” you asked, mimicking Daphne’s look with your index fingers. Marie nodded, it was exactly the one with the devil, or bee antenna, like bangs. Friedrich groaned in annoyance, he couldn’t cut off the feeling that you were purposely mocking her, and he couldn’t take it. He couldn’t let you mock poor Daphne. “Why are you even asking?”

“Oh, well.” You held up Lady Whistledown. “The lady is writing about her, the duke and you. Something about marriage. – I was just curious, that’s why I’m asking.”

“Lucky Daphne, being courted by a duke and a prince.” You sighed, maybe a bit too melodramatic.

They both frowned even more. Being maybe enamoured or well, , interested in Miss Bridgerton Friedrich didn’t like listening to stories about her and the duke. As a prince he could easily marry her, but he wasn’t one who used his title for love. And the queen disliked being in the wrong, even though she liked her season interesting.

After a moment of silence and peace, the topic of Lady Whistledown and Daphne long died down, Queen Charlotte approached you again. “Say, my dear. How do you like London so far?”

“Sadly, I haven’t seen much of it yet, your Majesty. But it is a wonderful city.”

Marie giggled. “Oh, I assure you, that’s not even all. She was thrilled when we arrived in London. Oh, you must have seen her when we reached Dover!”

Your mama could chatter for hours, especially when the topic were her children. Like so often, when she got caught in her flood of words, you tuned her out and focused on something else. No one seemed to listen to Marie’s rant, expect for the queen maybe, who nodded along with pursed lips. But she looked deeply in thought, like she was scheming something.

“Friedrich,” Queen Charlotte said, eying her nephew sharply. “Why don’t you show our guest around Town? Y/N hasn’t seen it yet and it would be a shame, if she left without seeing its splendour.”

Hearing her words, you couldn’t help yourself but stare at Friedrich in shock. He should be your tour guide? Him? Your papa knew London too, he could do the exact same job.

Friedrich didn’t look as appalled, but he wasn’t so fond of the idea either. His day could be spent with better activities, and people.

“That would be splendid, your Majesty,” you uttered. “But I am sure, that Friedrich’s schedule is filled to the brim.”

“No. – Actually, he has nothing planned,” she stated. “Or am I mistaken, Friedrich? As far as I know, Miss Bridgerton is not in town today.”

He gritted his teeth, wishing it was different. “No, you’re right, she is out with her family. – But I thought about riding …”

She turned back to you, a satisfied, even victorious, smile adorning her face. “Well, my nephew has nothing planned. He will gladly show you around London.”

“B-but what about a chaperone? I mean, even if we have guards accompany us, it would be unproper for us to go alone!” you spluttered, feeling like eight again, when Franziska and you had accidentally knocked over an old Meissen vase and tried to blame Maxi for it.

Sadly, all sucked up in the moment, you had forgotten that you were visiting London with your parents. “Bärli, mein Dummerchen, I will be your chaperone,” Marie chirped. “I, too, would like to see London.”

“Wundervoll…” Friedrich groaned under his breath, resisting the urge to ran his hands over his face and through his hair. His day was ruined.

“Wonderful!” exclaimed the queen, sounding very delighted, too delighted even. “Then it’s all settled.”

Standing in the hall all dressed up in a walking dress and matching pelisse, waiting for Friedrich and your mama to arrive, you were fuming. You couldn’t believe that your planless day had been ruined like that. No activity was pleasant as long god damn Friedrich of Prussia attended to it. And when he finally arrived, dressed in his usual boring Prussian-blue uniform, you glared at him.

No.

You threw daggers at him.

Friedrich wasn’t excited either but never had he seen you in such a sour mood, not since your childhood. And when he saw you, all fuming and mad, glaring at him dangerously, he gulped. Never had he seen you look so threatening.

Stomping your way over to him, you jabbed your finger into his chest. “This is all your fault!”

Already fed up with your attitude Friedrich grabbed your finger, forcefully, and pulled you towards him, chests almost touching. He hadn’t been that close to you since your last dance. Under normal circumstances the small distance of our bodies would irritate you, but now, all filled with your anger and other unpleasant emotions you didn’t even noticed.

“It’s not and you know it,” he snarled angrily, tightening his grip on your wrist. He was so incredibly close that you could feel his breath faintly brushing the tip of your nose and cheeks..

Huffing in anger was all you did, not knowing what to retort to that. He was right and you knew it. But you never would admit it, you were far too mad at him and the whole situation. It was obvious that none of you liked the current situation and yet he did nothing to writhe you out of it.

In anger you managed to forcefully twist and pull your hand out of his grasp. Tumbling back, you gripped, and caressed your tormented wrist with a hiss. He was stronger than you remembered.

“You could have called it off,” you hissed, still rubbing your wrist. “You men always have something important to do, don’t you?”

“I can’t! I gave her my word!” He didn’t. But he was smart enough to not objecting a queen, especially if she was the sister of his mother. It was better to be done with it quickly. Who even said that he had to spend the whole day with you and your mother?

Again, you huffed, and he felt it was the only thing you did now, but it was amazingly annoying. “Of course, you did,” you scoffed, glaring at him.

Wanting to retort to that, saying anything to have the last word, Friedrich opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Yes, he always kept his words but now he was lost of them. He wanted to throw them against your head, coaxing out a reaction, another one of your vexed faces. But he couldn’t. And when his brain finally put some words together, he had to shut it because he could hear Princess Marie approaching. Friedrich had stood there like a fool, like a damn fool and giving by your haughty, mocking grin you knew. You enjoyed it, took pleasure in seeing him like that.

. . .

It was difficult to stroll around London, sharing a coach and sidewalk, pretending not to love the idea to throttle each other. Especially accompanied by a chaperone that was your mother, who not only smiled delightful at the sight of Mayfair, Belgravia and other districts but also at the enforced couple across her. Gladly you would have loved to kick his shins multiple times but not with your mama’s eyes on you.

Briefly Friedrich had shown you Hyde Park, well you drove past it and he told you it was, well, a large park, where people did different activities. He had told Marie, not you, that he sometimes rode through it. Then you stopped at a huge, impressive building called Somerset House. Having been told that inside was a huge art gallery, walls literally painted with art from the ceiling to the floor, Marie and you wanted to visit it immediately. But Friedrich had to disappoint you. It wasn’t like a public museum and only shared its extraordinary art collection with the ton on special dates. Of course he didn’t told you, that as members of royalty, and friends and guests of the queen, you didn’t have to wait for a special occasion to visit. Friedrich wasn’t stupid and certainly not keen to spending hours with you alone, ignoring chaperone and guards, between art hung walls. But he was nice enough to inform you, that Somerset House would open its doors soon enough to celebrate its new wing.

And now you were here, strolling through the streets of Mayfair, or another rich part of Town, accompanied by guards and your dear mama. If the members of the tons, and other pedestrians, haven’t noticed prince and princess by themselves, they sure would do now with their entourage.

Carefully your hand lingered on his arm, you weren’t keen on touching it. You had tried to make Friedrich stumble several times, without success, it was difficult to hit his heels when you had to walk beside him. “You can touch me, you know?” Friedrich grumbled, mentally groaning about his own words. But you looked absolutely ridiculous with your hand not touching him even the slightest.

“My uniform is freshly cleaned and you’re just making a fool out of yourself,” he whispered to you, clearly annoyed by your antics. Quickly he regretted his words, when your hand laid down on his arms, pressing your fingers in it with as much pressure as possible. His uniform sleeve was sturdy enough to caught much of your force and yet it felt uncomfortable enough.

“You’re ridiculous!” He gritted his teeth, cerulean eyes glaring at you.

You smiled innocently at him, fluttering your lashes, but he could see the scorn in your face. “Oh, why? I’m just holding onto you with my dear life, mein Prinz.”

Absolutely flabbergasted did he look at you. That was the most disgusting and confusing thing that has ever left your mouth. It had completely thrown him off the tracks. You were unable to call him your Highness but were now calling him your prince? Yours? He was shocked, to say at least, unable to form any words in response. His brain was wiped out. He felt like a fool and with his lips parted, but no words passing through, he also looked like one. And you were absolutely enjoying it. You were bathing in this moment, enjoying his response proudly.

“Oh, what’s this?” you pulled at his arm and nodded towards a whitewashed building. Gentlemen, young and old, were streaming in and out, but looking at the walls it told you nothing. Some young gentlemen, bachelors perhaps, looked rather dashing, you had to admit.

“Can we go in there?” You asked, your eyes following a charming young man with fluffy brunette curls. Having been annoyed by your constant pulling and asking Friedrich now stared at you like you had two heads. As if you were a maniac … but he wouldn’t be surprised if you truly were on.

“No.”

“And why is that?”

Scoffing at your objection he rolled his eyes in annoyance. You were really testing him today. “Because my dear Y/N,” he stated, sounding like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and it was. “This is a Gentlemen’s club, and you are a woman.”

With wide eyes you starred at the white house. Well, this explained all the gentlemen, and no gentlewoman, swarming in and out of the building. “Oh.”

After the failed attempt of storming a gentlemen’s club, chasing mindless after a curly dandy, the tour around Town was a bit … uneventful. Friedrich showed you around Mayfair, mostly, briefly hinting at shops, cafés and market stalls. It wasn’t like London was boring, but Friedrich made sure to keep everything brief and quick. Not that you were keen on spending your day with him. But his rushed manners annoyed you, a lot. Since the club he was prone to end this as fast as possible.

“Oh! Is that a modiste?” Marie asked joyfully, like the guards she was a good distance behind you. Following her pointed finger, you too saw the small looking shop, all adorned in soft colours. Friedrich sighed, quickly reading the words on the signs above the door. Modiste. It was really a dressmaker…

“Yes, I think so,” was all he said, praying that you two wouldn’t want to go in there.

“Excellent!” Marie exclaimed. “Is she good? Do you know that Friedrich?”

Mentally he groaned, physically he only sighed. “Uh, pardon me.”

“Oh right! I forgot, men don’t go to the modiste,” she giggled.

“Explains why you are always wearing the same blue uniform,” you muttered, unable to hide your grin. You knew that men went to a tailor instead, but you couldn’t waste this opportunity.

He really held the desire to accidentally push you into a muddy puddle, like he did when he was eight or nine years of age. Instead of following his desire he smiled sweetly at Marie.

“Oh, I bet she’s good, but a princess like you surely doesn’t need to visit a local modiste..”

Clearly Friedrich had enough of playing escort for you and if you two would ever decide to visit the modiste he just hoped that you wouldn’t take him with you. Strolling around Town with you, and your death-like grip on his arm, was barely enough for him to handle. You were really testing him and his patience. But as long as Princess Marie was in reach, he was willing to keep up the last crumbles of his peaceful façade.

Almost desperately the prince wished for the day to end.

You, however, thought differently. While you were as much thrilled as he was about spending the day together, you did not like the way he treated you, dragging you around London like a child. Maybe he deserved some more time with you, and sometimes you had to make sacrifices yourself.

Rushing, yet again, through the streets, not listening to Friedrich’s curt explanations, your eyes fell on another whitewashed house. Its windows were rimmed white, and the door was lined with little trees cut into a ball. Different to the gentlemen’s club it had a very telling sign above its entrance.

“Oh! Is that a tea shop?” you asked him, despite already knowing what it was.

Friedrich nodded to that. “I see you can read.”

Feeling quite satisfied with his answer, at least you had rolled your eyes, he tugged you arm to move on. But you kept your feet rooted on the ground. Annoyed he pulled some more until your steal-like fingers left him. “Stop it,” you said. “I would like to go in there.”

Friedrich groaned annoyed, having some tea with you was the least thing he wanted to do. “Come on, we’ve to go.”

“No!”

“We’re not drinking tea, stop making a fuss,” he hissed, not liking that more people stared at you when you rose your voice. As a prince he was used to the stares of civilians, people stopped and stared whenever a member of royalty walked among them. And they were hard not to see with guards following their every step. But being the centre of attention because of a dispute was different.

“I am not fussing!”

“Yes, you are.”

Huffing in anger, he had already surpassed your state of annoyance with his attitude, you were looking for you last straw. Friedrich might be a prince, but he wasn’t your papa, and you would certainly not let him patronise you. He couldn’t forbid you some cup of tea.

“Mama?” you turned to Marie, who’s interest was piqued immediately. “The whole Town tour is a bit long, isn’t it? Quite tiring I would say. A stop at the tea shop doesn’t sound so bad, don’t you think, Mama?”

Friedrich couldn’t believe his ears. You really had picked that card?

For mere seconds Marie seemed to consider your words if the points you made were valid enough for visiting a tea shop. However, you knew your mother the best. You knew when you’d point out the tea shop and refreshments your mama would agree. Marie never refused the chance of good pastries. “Yes, it is a bit tiring,” she nodded. “I have to admit, I do feel quite thirsty. And the shop looks quite lovely…”

“So do I, Mama.”

“Friedrich, don’t you wish for some tea? You must be exhausted too.” The way Marie smiled at him he would feel more than bad to decline her offer. Frustrated he bit his lips knowing his afternoon was sealed. Refusing you, and only you, wasn’t difficult. But refusing Princess Marie and you? He could hardly do it, especially since your mother hold a kind character. It wasn’t her fault that she gave birth to a malicious witch.

Having tea at a tea shop was different than he had expected, mostly because Friedrich and you weren’t sipping tea but eating ice and pastries instead. Well, scones and macarons surely weren’t surprising for having tea but flavoured ice? When he thought about it, he hadn’t had ice for ages. Maybe he should’ve gone to Gunter’s Tea Shop much, much earlier. He should take Daphne here, she’d love it.

“Mama, are you sure that you don’t want any? The ginger ice cream tastes amazing.”

Nipping at her cup of tea Marie smiled and shook slightly her head. “Thank you, Bärli. But I’m happy with tea and biscuits.”

To be fair, their pastries, especially the macarons were as good as the sorbet. Scooping up some more ginger sorbet you enjoyed its cool and sweet, and slight sour, taste with a delightful hum. It felt like eating angels’ dish. Adding a sweet raspberry macaron made it even better. Right now, you definitely were in heaven.

“Einfach himmlisch,” you sighed over a new scoop of ice cream. In Friedrich’s ears your overjoyed sounds were annoying but sadly also distracting. His plan was simply to ignore you until you three were done with your sweet break. But with every sound you made, and you made a lot, all gushing over Gunter’s sweets, his eyes shot to you. It was only brief, yet distracting and annoying.

Devouring delicious ice cream and pastries apparently made you so happy, you looked like a completely different person to him. More at ease, less pugnacious and … he hated to admit it, but you looked kind and lovely.

“Well, it’s good but not that good,” he grumbled, even though he thought of it as delicious as well, and immediately earned a light kick, with greetings from you. He hissed at the brief but sharp pain. Forget nice and lovely, your looks were some kind of ruse or trap to lure in the innocent to torture them with your wickedness.

But Friedrich made the mistake to look at you. It was meant as a glare, flashing you a grim look of anger, but when he saw you all innocent, and ravished by the simple taste of ice cream, he couldn’t stay mad with you. Usually, he’d love to kick you back or do anything else to repay you but now … all desire for revenge was gone.

Hm, that was really weird.

Must be the light and the whole café itself.

Foremost you sat at a very unfortunate spot, right at the window and near a shiny tray of petit fours, scones and macarons. The pastries didn’t do much to you, or him. But he had to admit that your pelisse worked perfectly well with the shop’s colours. You looked like you belonged here, which was only troubling him slightly. But the window … it must be the window. The noonday sun shone right at you, softened by the white curtains of Gunter’s. It made your hair shone bright and warm, as did your skin, especially your cheeks. You were glowing and blessed with the divine sweet taste of sherbet, looking scarily peaceful, content, and lovely, you looked like a painting that belonged to the national gallery. Daphne had been right you looked lovely.

Friedrich stopped. Had he just thought that you looked lovely? Did he just compare your looks to art? No, he couldn’t – he didn’t. You must have bewitched him with a wicked spell or something, or was this a ruse to confuse his poor mind and trick him? It must be. Knowing you the lady sitting in front of him wasn’t you, she was far too calm for that. You were two separate persons.

But your cheeks looked so warm and soft …

“Friedrich, is everything all right? Your ice is melting,” asked Marie, slightly worrying about the young prince. He hadn’t noticed that he was staring at you, very noticeable. For how long had he looked at you, admiring your changes in look?

Clearing his throat, he smiled at your mother, reassuring her that everything is alright, hoping that she didn’t noticed him starring at her daughter.

“Yes, I was just think– ,” Friedrich winced and whimpered faintly, but noticeable. With a pleased sly smile, you enjoyed another scoop. He needed some time to compose himself from your shoes, you had managed to hit the exact same spot as last time. “I was just thinking. Everything’s good.”

Except for the throbbing pain in his shin, everything was good. It was clearly that his eyes and mind had fooled him, because now he knew that you were not merely a wicked, malicious witch. Minutes ago, you had been a mermaid but you were a siren nonetheless, tricking him with your calmness into believed safety only to torment his leg yet again.

taglist: @netflixton @onlymexsarah @awesomebooklover17 @verygardenerbanana @bxnnywatts @freyagallileaevans @bicyhot1

if you want to be tagged as well, let me know :)

#bridgerton fics #bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #prince friedrich #prince friedrich imagines #prince friedrich x reader #prince friedrich fanfiction #own writing #love to hate you

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malfoys-demigod · 3 years

Text

Mistletoe

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: After 5 years in America, the reader comes back home to enjoy a party hosted by the Potters/Weasleys and maybe... a mistletoe surprise?

A/N: Merry Christmas, everyone! I’ve been busy but I’ve also been wanting to do a Draco fic. Enjoy and happy holidays (whichever event you celebrate!) It’s not the best but I hope you like it.

Word Count: 1.7k

Taglist @the--queen-of-hell @bbeauttyybbx

“Would you like a cup of tea with your frosted cupcake, madam?” asked the house elf.

She shook her head, smiling politely, “I’d love a fresh cup of joe instead, thank you.”

The elf tilted his head, narrowing his confused eyes, “Pardon me, madam, but what exactly is a cup of joe?”

Embarrassment started filling up the oxygen she was breathing as her eyes started growing bigger with realization that the term was not widely known in British soils. She chuckled to herself awkwardly, “Oh-”

“It’s a fresh cup of coffee, Hokey,” a voice from behind said, “I believe it’s an American saying.”

Hokey nodded, going back to his work as he started brewing Y/N’s coffee. While this was going on, she turned around, to meet the owner of the voice from behind. It turned out to be Draco Lucius Malfoy, who seemed to be casually smirking, placing both his hands on the pockets of his trousers, looking at her from top to bottom.

“Well, well, well,” he happily said, “If it isn’t Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Hello to you too, Draco Malfoy,” she nonchalantly greeted him, copying his gesture of calling you by her first and last name. “And how were you aware of this American slang?” she asked, crossing your arms.

Draco’s smirk only got wider, when he took her cupcake, getting a small, smooth bite from it. “And why should I tell you?”

“Because I’d like to thank you, for saving me from utter embarrassment with my American customs.” she lied, as she just wanted to know how he could translate such an American saying for it was different in England.

Draco leaned in, seeming as if he was actually going to tell her. She peered in as he said, “I have a better way for you to thank me.” Her utter disappointment in his reply resulted in her leaning back, slapping his arm forcefully. “Douche,” she muttered. As Draco winced in pain, laughing lightly, she took her coffee and made a bee-line to the other side of the room.

She found familiar faces such as the hosts, Ginny and Harry Potter, with their best friends, Hermione and Ron Weasley. A wave of relief flushed on her face as she walked straight to them. “Hello, everyone,” she greeted relievingly.

The group turned to Y/N, hugging her out, as they smiled at her merrily. “Enjoying the party, Y/N? It’s probably not the same as you do it in America, but it’s lovely, ain’t it?” Ron asked politely.

“Nothing beats a traditional English party like having English turkey on Christmas Day, Ron.” she confidently replied, cheering her coffee mug with his. “Although I thought there would be more gentlemen in this part of the world.” she muttered loudly, giving them a confused face.

“What exactly do you mean by that, Y/N?” Harry asked.

Y/N shook her body, gesturing that she was shaking off bad vibes from her system. “Nothing much, only that Malfoy came up to me just a few minutes ago. Same old flirt to all, am I right?”

There was a mix of emotional replies from the group, causing Y/N to get puzzled. Harry and Ron shook their heads at each other, smiling cheekily while Hermione and Ginny let out a small laugh with each other.

Y/N narrowed her eyebrows, “I don’t understand. Is it really that funny?”

“Heavens no,” Hermione said, “You’re wrong, Y/N!”

“Wrong?” the staggered girl asked, “What do you mean?”

“Go on, Harry,” Ron prompted his best friend, “Tell her!”

Harry nodded, looking at you, smiling cheerfully, “Ever since you’ve left for America, Draco slightly changed.”

You walked forward, interested in what Harry was saying, “Uh-huh, go on, Potter.”

“Well, he hasn’t been the same old flirt to many ever since YOU left.” Harry grinned.

Despite not understanding what they were trying to tell her, she nodded confusingly, “Right,” she said, “Did something happen to him? Did he lose his memory? His charisma? Because earlier he seemed quite-”

“Goodness, Y/N!” Hermione exclaimed tiredly, “How could you possibly not get it?”

“Get what?” Y/N asked, surprised at Hermione’s tone of voice.

“Can’t you tell that the reason he hasn’t been the same old flirst was because he only had eyes for you?” Ginny questioned her.

“Catching a job in MACUSA meant catching an American boy from his point of view too,” Harry backed Ginny up.

“You do have an American suitor, or not, Y/N?” Ron asked curiously.

The flooding of information got Y/N to shake her head madly, as she waved off everything with her hands. “Not that I know of,” she teased lightly. Although, she wanted to go back to the topic the others seemed to be serious about. “But could you elaborate more on what you were talking about?” she asked, looking back at the rest.

Hermione, tired of this play, rolled her eyes, “He’s only had eyes for you Y/N!”

Y/N shook her head lightly with denial, “That’s absurd,” she chuckled lightly to herself, “That can’t be right.”

“How so?” Harry wondered.

“I-I just never caught any visible signs,” she shrugged, her tone going higher. “He usually teased and flirted but I never really thought it would lead to any signs. And when he asked me to the Yule Ball? I thought he was joking!”

“That was bloody embarrassing on his end. Going with Parkinson while she went with who’s-his-face.” Ron muttered to Harry, who seemed to nod in agreement.

Ginny shook her head, grinning at Y/N’s blind self, “Oh, Y/N, the things you made Malfoy go through.” Like a light-bulb that sparked on top of her head, she immediately grinned more, looking at Y/N. “Y/N, have you ever fancied him? You can’t just go around, letting him tease and flirt with you all those years without feeling something, right?”

Y/N looked down at the ground, quickly contemplating on her answer. She gulped, looking back up at the whole group, Ginny in particular. “Well, perhaps once or twice. But I always thought that it the idea of him and I wouldn’t happen. So, I never really went on about feeling something towards him.”

“Well, we’re really glad you haven’t found yourself an American suitor during your five years at MACUSA. Malfoy’s changed, in a good way, and you two deserve each other.” Ron stated proudly.

“Yeah?” Y/N asked, causing herself to smile.

“Yeah,” Harry said, as the rest nodded. “You should probably head back to him. He’s by the drinks booth.” he nodded, motioning Y/N to turn and check that Draco was exactly where she left him.

Y/N took a deep breath and started making her way back to Hokey’s booth, passing through the wave of many other familiar faces, who were filling up the whole floor. Draco was quietly drinking something from his cup, facing Hokey, who seemed to be busy to even bother ask if Draco wanted a refill of his drink.

“Two glasses of your best champagne please, Hokey.” Y/N announced herself, leaning at the bar. This caught Draco’s attention, as his face was now livelier since Y/N was back. It was her turn to start the conversation with Draco, although he was quicker in terms of opening his mouth.

“So,” he spoke, “I see you’re having a grand time but are you sure you can drink two glasses at once?”

“I can’t,” she chuckled, “That’s why the other one is for you.” she reached for the glass Hokey served, giving it to Draco, who muttered a small thanks.

“Also, I realized something.” she pointed out.

“And what is that, dear Y/N?” he asked casually, looking at Y/N with such fascination.

Y/N gulped quickly, knowing it was now or never. “Well I realized I was rude during our first encounter earlier.”

“Rude?” he wondered, but chuckling.

“Well yes!” she justified herself, “It’s highly assumptious that you were expressing a crude joke, which is something that you normally express and since I haven’t been used to that in sometime since I was in America, I may or may not have taken it in lightly and I called you a douche which I’m quite sorry-”

“Hang on, darling, take a breather first, you’re rambling.” Draco stopped her, placing his hands on her shoulders with a confused smile.

Y/N stopped as requested, looking at him with a tilted, uneasy head.

Draco continued the minute he saw that she was cooling down. “Right,” he said, “Crude joke?” he highlighted the phrase she was rambling about.

Y/N slowly nodded with a raised eyebrow.

“I honestly don’t see what’s so crude about a mistletoe opportunity.” he thought, shaking his head.

Y/N shook her head as well, but in confusion. “M-mistletoe opportunity?”

“Yeah,” he laughed, pointing up at the ceiling.

Y/N nervously looked up to see a hanging mistletoe, shining above the two. Hearing a small chuckle from Draco, she looked back at him, chuckling embarrassing as she stroked her hair. “Oh.” she said. “Draco I’m-”

Her apology was interrupted when Draco placed his hands on Y/N’s face, cupping her cheeks as he pulled in for a deep, passionate kiss as he took advantage of the mistletoe moment.

Y/N’s uneasy figure started relaxing as she started kissing Draco back, wrapping her arms around his neck tightly.

Draco pulled back, grinning politely, looking at her soft, sweet eyes. “Thank goodness for the mistletoe or I wouldn’t have had the chance to do that.”

“What a shame you couldn’t have planted one in our Hogwarts years while you were immensely head over heels for me as an adolescent.” she smirked, looking at his now-red cheeks.

He looked down, smiling still, but shyly. “It’s a shame you couldn’t see how head over heels I was as an adolescent.” he chuckled, “I take it either the Weasley’s or Potter’s have told you?” he looked at her.

Y/N nodded, giggling. “I guess it was never too late, right?”

“Never.” he agreed, brushing back a strand of her hair back into the back of her ear.

Y/N placed her hand on Draco’s forearm, which he brought down for her, now holding his hand. She looked down at his hand, squeezing it tight. When she looked up, she smiled. “Happy holiday’s, Draco.”

“Happy holiday’s, Y/N and welcome back home. I missed you dearly.” he greeted, placing a kiss on her forehead.

#draco malfoy x reader #Draco Malfoy #Draco Malfoy Imagines #Draco Malfoy x Y/n #Draco Malfoy fanfiction #Harry Potter x Reader #draco malfoy fluff #fluff

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bbrandy2002 · 3 years

Text

Happy Birthday Jessica!

Title: Twinsane

A/N: Jessie, You already know Burns and I are big fans of your characters and stories, in particular your Leo and Drake. The three of us made our big writing debuts at the same time in the Summer of 2019 and became fast friends that have continued through every high and low we’ve each experienced in our lives. You’ve always been a great and supportive friend with a big heart and a bit of a funny bone. We both hope you have an amazing birthday and we wish you all the best in the coming year.

This story takes place in a universe created by @jessiembruno.

Palace -- Throne Room

Liam paced the ancient throne room, site of their infant daughter’s upcoming anointing and baptism. Everything seemed to be in place; Regina had made sure of it despite the cast on her arm from her latest sex injury.

Still, he worried.

Not because of terrorist threats, not because of Lilyana possibly blowing out her diaper and ruining a $2,000 christening gown. No, he had two concerns:

His brother and his brother-in-law.

His wife tried to console him about it, but every time she did, the new father threw his hands up in the air and said, “I don’t want to talk about that stupid pendejo. I just can’t with him --” and the fights they had afterward weren’t worth it.

Leo had passed two kidney stones on the day Lilyana was born. Liam felt bad for him; he really did. Everything he’d heard about passing kidney stones was that it was a truly painful ordeal.

But Leo, as always, had taken things too far.

First of all, he’d named them: Rocky and Peter. He referred to them as “the twins,” and everywhere he went, that goddamn jar went with him. It was embarrassing to be somewhere with him in public and then to hear the telltale rattling as he adjusted change in his pocket.

That was nothing, though, compared to when he’d bought “the twins” a Silver Cross Balmoral pram at the eye-popping price tag of seven grand. It was both nicer and more expensive than Jessica and Liam’s $2,700 Bugaboo by Diesel stroller; Liam had thrown a fit. And not just because Leo had charged them both to Liam’s credit card.

“We are carting around a royal baby! You spent seven thousand dollars on a grocery cart for your goddamn kidney stones?”

Leo, puffing out his chest, had merely clutched the jar of medical waste to his heart. “My children are royal adjacent, thank you very much.”

At least Drake understood that the elder Rys brother was off his rocker, but since Drake flew all the way off the handle every time the subject was mentioned, Liam tried to avoid the inevitable blowups. Just last week, there had been an … incident at a formal dinner.

“Drake, will you watch the boys while I take a piss?” Leo had extended the jar toward the surly dark-haired man.

“Get those fucken things away from me, Leo! Those were in your fucken dick! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Liam had tried to calm Drake down -- Princess Lesedi looked absolutely horrified at the outburst -- but as usual, Leo just made things worse.

Huffing loudly, he proclaimed, “Lilyana was in Jessica’s bacon hole, and I don’t hear you complaining about that, Drake. You hold her all the time, but you never take the twins when I ask! I am through with this open favoritism!”

Only Alyssa, quietly intervening and taking the jar, had prevented a full-on brawl from breaking out. But since she started to cry when Drake refused to hold her hand afterward even following a thorough handwashing, the crisis hadn’t really been averted in the end.

Thinking of Drake only led Liam to ruminate on Mateo, his brother-in-law. Nearly a year before, when the four friends had attended a Yankees game with Jessica’s brothers, Mateo had made a sloppy pass at Alyssa without knowing she was in a relationship.

Well, to be more precise, he’d actually talked about Alyssa in front of her face, not realizing she spoke Spanish, and told his brother “Alyssa can sit on my face.”

The only thing that had saved the weekend from devolving into complete anarchy was that Drake didn’t know enough Spanish to translate. But someone -- probably shit-starting Leo -- had explained Mateo’s words to Drake, and now Alyssa’s new husband was out for blood.

If any of them ruin my little princess’ day, Liam swore to himself, I will murder them. I’m king. I can pardon myself.

------------

Palace -- Ballroom

Lilyana was properly anointed and baptized. At the head table, overlooking the large gathering as he cradled his daughter in his arms, Liam looked over the party with a sigh of relief and scooped up another forkful of chicken tagine. Everything had gone off without a hitch, and now they just needed to feed all these people, hand the princess off to Regina or one of her doting aunts or uncles, and he could spirit his wife away to take his “royal scepter” anywhere she wanted it.

His eyes tracked to Leo, who was in rapt conversation with Penelope across the room. When Leo pulled the jar out of his pocket, Liam threw back his entire scotch in disgust.

Jessica, resplendent in a new Ana de Luca original, came back to the table. “God, these fucken people are intolerable, Liam. How much longer --” Her words were cut off when Liam wrapped his hand around her wrist.

“My love, give our daughter to her grandmother. Te necesito. Ahora,” he added, eyes locked on hers. (I need you. Now.)

She took the baby from his arms and brought Lilyana to Alyssa. “The princess needs some time with her Auntie Lyss.”

Alyssa smirked as she kissed the infant’s sweet-smelling head. “And the queen needs to get her back blown out?”

Jessica tossed her hair. “Fuck yeah.”

Alyssa high-fived her before she walked away.

------------

Palace -- Liam and Jessica’s Quarters

“You’re so gorgeous, love,” Liam grunted, gripping a fistful of Jessica’s hair and tugging her head back, exposing her throat to his lips and teeth.

She shuddered at the feeling, reaching for his thick length. “We don’t have a lot of time …”

“We have as much time as it takes.” He unzipped the dress and slid it down her body, admiring the curves that had only become lusher with motherhood. Lowering her to the bed, Liam’s lips moved over Jessica’s breasts and stomach. He toyed with the waistband of her underwear.

“Liam, please --”

The panties dropped to the ground, and her plea melted into a throaty groan at the first swipe of his tongue. “Fuuuuuuuuck.”

“Yes, love,” he said against her, working her with his hands and mouth. “Dámelo.” (Give it to me.)

She was still shaking with her release when Liam crawled over her, his rigid cock probing between her thighs. “Now, muñeca.”

Something crashed against the door.

------------

Palace -- Ballroom

To his delight, Leo had reunited with Miss Willoughby, his fourth-grade teacher. Though she was no longer as perky as he remembered and had grown an unfortunate goiter, she listened attentively to Leo’s stories about his children.

She had had a lot of champagne.

“Do you have a picture?” she asked at last, after Leo had regaled her with the tale of taking Peter and Rocky grocery shopping for the first time.

“Even better than that.” Leo proudly reached into his jacket pocket. “Boys, I’d like you to meet Miss Willoughby.”

The teacher shrank back with concern. “Leo … what -- what is that?”

“They are Rocky and Peter.” He pointed to each stone as he introduced them. “Their birth was excruciating, but it was worth every moment of pain.”

Miss Willoughby rubbed her misshapen throat lump. “Are those --”

He heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Technically they are kidney stones. But the word ‘kid’ is right in there! Love makes a family, Miss Willoughby. Not your status as ‘human.’” He punctuated the last word with finger quotes of disgust.

------------

On the other side of the room, Drake’s gaze narrowed on a familiar face. “Devereaux!” he hissed.

Alyssa looked up from where she had been singing “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” to Lilyana. “What?”

“Is that Jess’ fucken brother?”

She bit her lip. It was Mateo, but no way was she letting Drake get involved in a brawl at the princess’ anointing, for Christ’s sake. “I don’t remember.”

“What do you mean, you ‘don’t remember’?”

Waving a breezy hand, Alyssa hastily tried to defuse the situation. “Oh, I was drinking a lot that day.”

“A lot for you. Not for your average 15-year-old,” he snickered, agreeing.

To Alyssa’s relief, the man had slipped out of sight. “Well, be that as it may, you should let that Mateo thing go. Everything’s cool.”

He scowled. “It is not. I know he’s here today! I’m going to find him and kick the shit out of him.”

-----------

“You should call me Roberta.”

Leo raised his eyebrows. “Miss Willoughby -- Roberta. I would be delighted to.”

She set down her flute. “You certainly grew up handsome …”

Smoothing his blond locks back into place, Leo gave her a rakish grin. “Why, Roberta. How forward of you.”

“Is there somewhere we can get away?” She reached out and gripped his ass with surprising strength.

“I guess that depends on how much you’ve had to drink.”

“The perfect amount.” Her hand slid around to the front, grappling with the front of his pants.

“Whoooooooa. Well, in that case, yes. We can get away.”

------------

Alyssa handed Lilyana to Drake in another attempt at distraction, nervous about the way he was pacing the room. “Uh, I have to use the bathroom. Can you take the baby?”

He was already cooing at Lilyana, assuaging Alyssa’s nerves until she made out the words. “And Uncle Drake’s gonna beat the fuck out of your Uncle Mateo ... yes, he is! Yes, he is!”

“Drake!” she gritted.

“Because nofuckingone talks about your Auntie Lyssa like that; no, they do not!” he continued in a singsong voice, ignoring Alyssa completely.

She rolled her eyes and headed out of the ballroom, content that he at least wouldn’t start any physical fights with a baby in his arms.

------------

Palace -- Liam and Jessica’s Quarters

Jessica sat up with a start, unfortunately bending Liam’s manhood at an awkward angle. He screamed.

“Who the fuck is at the door?” Her shrewd eyes, trained to find danger, scanned the room. She threw Liam’s jacket on -- their size difference meant it fit her like a gigantic robe -- and grabbed her taser.

“Love, wait!” Liam struggled up from the bed, wincing at the pain in his dick.

“Goddammit, Leo!” Jessica screeched upon throwing the door open.

Her brother-in-law’s bare ass, driving rhythmically toward a faceless someone who was pressed against the opposite wall, greeted her.

“Jess! Fuck!” Leo slowed. “Sorry, Roberta, hang on.” Continuing to hold her against him as a shield, he craned his head around to look at her. “I’m a little busy right now. What?”

She slammed the door closed. “Liam, get dressed.”

“What the fuck is going on?” The king complied, his good mood completely dissipated.

“Your fucken brother is banging someone outside our door. I’m pretty sure his ass is the crashing sound we heard. His naked ass touched the door. I’m having maintenance replace it tomorrow!”

------------

Palace -- Hallway Outside Liam and Jessica’s Quarters

Leo struggled back into his pants, grateful that his partner had kept her dress on. “Miss W -- Roberta, I’m really sorry, but we’re going to have to cut this short. Er, not that anything about me is short, obviously. But I’m pretty sure my brother’s about to come out here --”

The door flew open. “LEO, YOU MOTHERFUCKER!” Liam raged.

“Run!” Leo grabbed Roberta’s hand and took off running down the corridor, jacket in his other hand.

------------

Palace -- Ballroom

Alyssa hadn’t come back, but the more Drake stared at the man he had noticed earlier, the more he was convinced it was Mateo Garcia.

That fucker.

Lilyana had fallen asleep against his chest. He wasn’t going to disturb her or put her in danger, but …

Drake looked at the abandoned plates of cake on their table. Steadying the baby with his left arm, he picked up a handful of cake and squeezed it experimentally in his fist. Maybe he hadn’t played ball with Liam and Maxwell in a few years, but he still had a decent arm.

He rose, stalking closer to his target but staying close to the exit for a quick getaway.

Drake raised his arm and fired.

The handful of cake exploded against the man’s face. Spluttering, Mateo whipped his head around and roared, “What the fuck was that?”

Drake and Lilyana slipped out the nearest door, almost colliding with a sweaty Leo, panic in his eyes.

Leo grabbed Drake’s shoulders, careful to avoid Lilyana’s head. “Drake! We have a crisis on our hands!”

He listened to Leo with only half his attention; his other ear focused uneasily on the new commotion of screaming and -- was that breaking glass? -- inside the ballroom.

“So I need you to come on the search mission with me,” Leo finished.

Drake shook his head to clear it, registering an older woman with a prominent goiter slinking back into the ballroom. “The fuck are you talking about? Did you just finish having sex with that woman?” He jerked a thumb toward Roberta.

The blond man scowled. “I didn’t get to finish, and neither did she, thanks to Jess and Liam’s drama.”

“But the --” Drake gestured to his neck.

Leo waved it off. “I hit it from behind. No distracting visuals that way.”

“You, dickhead!” Drake grimaced. “Thanks for the mental image.”

“My pleasure. Now, we need to go. Find someone to take the baby. I need you completely focused.”

“On what? Where the fuck are we going?”

“Have you not been listening to me? Jesus, Drake! I need you to help me find the twins!” Leo raked his hand through his hair, making it stand on end as his blue eyes burned with obsessive fire. “I took my jacket off when I was nailing Miss Willoughby -- er, Roberta -- and the jar must have fallen out. My children are missing, Drake!”

Drake nestled Lilyana against his chest and covered one of her ears. “You -- you have lost the fucken plot, Leo. I am not searching for your -- your -- dick rocks!”

“You were there at their birth, Drake. It hurts me that you take no interest in your godstones.”

“Stop calling them my ‘godstones’! That is not even a goddamn word --” Drake broke off his rant as Alyssa appeared in the hallway, covered in red. “Jesus Christ! Baby!” He thrust Lilyana into Leo’s waiting arms; the baby woke up and began to cry. “What happened?”

“Huh? You made the baby cry!” Alyssa went to take Lilyana, but Drake grabbed her.

“Look at you, Devereaux! Where are you bleeding from?” Frantic, he tugged the neckline of her dress aside, exposing her bra. She slapped his hand away.

“Stop! I’m not bleeding!”

“But --” He gestured to the bright stain marring her light blue dress.

She looked down. “Oh, that. Someone dumped gazpacho on me when I was walking through the ballroom.”

“What?”

Alyssa pointed. “It’s anarchy in there; didn’t you notice?”

The men peered into the room. Roughly 40 people, most screaming, flung food at each other, ducking to avoid flying lunch items and using plates and -- in several concerning cases -- overturned tables as shields.

“What happened?” Leo looked concerned.

Alyssa noted the guilty look on Drake’s face as she rocked and tried to shush Lilyana. “I think this baby needs to eat. Have you seen Liam or Jess?”

The question seemed to snap Leo back to reality. “You should look for them, Lyss. Head them off --”

“What do you mean ‘head them off’?”

But Leo continued, “And in the meantime, Drake and I need to find the twins!” He grabbed a loudly-protesting Drake by the arm and dragged him down the hall.

A moment after they turned the corner, Alyssa, still rocking the baby, was startled by her voice from behind her. She turned her head to see Liam and Jessica stalking rapidly toward her. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re back!”

Jessica took Lilyana, cuddling her. “Let’s go eat.” Stepping into the ballroom, she shrieked, “What the fuck?”

------------

“I need you to help me file a missing persons report,” Leo said 15 minutes later, after they had repeatedly combed the hallways looking for the jar of kidney stones. “My children are in danger!”

“Stop calling them your fucken children!”

Leo pressed his lips together with frustration. “I went through two hours of labor and five minutes of pushing, all for your GODSTONES! The least you can do is help report the twins’ disappearance and bring them back to their Papi Chulo.”

He was saved from Drake’s wrathful retort by a notification on Drake’s phone. “Oh, no you don’t,” Drake muttered, typing furiously on his keyboard.

“What are you doing?” Leo huffed impatiently.

“Someone outbid me for this lure I really want.” Drake finished typing and sucked in a breath. “Ohhhhh shit.”

“What now?”

Raking a hand through his hair, Drake extended his phone toward Leo. “Uhhhhh, I think you better look at this.”

“HOberta69? Drake, don’t buy anything from a seller with that name -- holy shit!” he exclaimed as he looked closer.

He clicked the link; the phone screen filled with his own image. “Yeah,” video Leo said, “it hurt like a son of a bitch when I pushed these li’l fellers out, but that’s parenthood!” He held up the jar and shook it. “The rascals.”

Drake covered his face with his palm. “You are so fucken embarrassing.”

“This fucken kidnapper! I give her the best two-pump-chumpin’ she’s ever had and this is how the old bag repays me? Oh, the fucken humanity! I will hunt her down! I will throw her in the dungeons! I will --”

“She’s basically holding them for ransom,” Drake said reasonably. “Maybe if you message her …”

But Leo had already clicked the “buy it now” option. “Thank God I still have Liam’s credit card saved to my account.”

Drake’s eyes widened. “You paid for the dick rocks? With Liam’s credit card? You know he’s gonna fucken kill you?”

“Calm your tits, Drake.” Leo heaved a heavy sigh. “You and Alyssa haven’t created a family yet. The first lesson you’re gonna learn when the time comes, though, is that parenthood is full of bullshit sacrifice … and Liam is the lucky guy who gets to make that sacrifice.”

37 notes · View notes

nightswithkookmin · 3 years

Note

You need to back up your ON break up theory with more than just fake subs and vague statements about 'claiming behavior'.

During the period you allege they were broken up, Jimin pulled Jungkook in a hug on run behind, Jungkook called Jimin sexy at a press conference, Jimin and jungkook did that whole 'how does it feel to be in the same unit'/'time to change' flirty thing, Jimin grabbed Jungkook by the lapels... and more. Begging pardon but if they were grieving the loss of their romantic relationship while trying to be professional colleagues and pals.... isnt that sort of insensitive? Like I know you admitting you might have read it wrong and have changed your view in light of new footage might be a blow to your ego, but I don't think you are thinking rationally when you insist on this break up theory. It's sad because I found so much meaning and connection in some of the stuff you have written, particularly pertaining to internalized homophobia, racism, mysogynoir and bts changing over time to become more enlightened, but your devotion to this ONE theory, and defensiveness whenever it is (rightly imo) challenged makes me wary of your theories in general, which might be extremely unfair to you, as a thinker. Your log is really funny and great in a lot of ways so i cant really quit you.

Ahhhh it's been a while I got one of these...

Hello, how you doing! Lol. Silver is that you?

Chilee, it's the name calling for me.

Ego, irrational, charlatan, Tuktukker- I'm desensitized to such ad hominems at this point. You don't throw words like these around and expect me to sit at the table and talk. Imma yeet myself out real fast. Lol.

There's just something different, wholesome almost, about this post though. Sounds constructive I think. Or maybe it's because I just woke. Chilee. Lol.

It doesn't feel at all like you are attacking me. It's strange...

You're gaslighting though but it's fine. I've built a resistance to that from years and years of dealing with my abductors or family. Potato potahto.

I often put my sanity before other's insanity which is why I don't indulge posts such as these and I'm not sorry about that. I mean is this an Ask or Submission? I don't- what am I supposed to say? What is the call to action?

Sigh.

If I come across as defensive sometimes, 10 out of 10, it's probably because the person on the other end is being offensive. Straight up. Cause and effect, the science don't lie.

You don't expect me to not defend when I'm being attacked. That's just tacky.

I don't think there's anything wrong with challenging views and notions because at the very least, that's about the exchange of ideas and I welcome it.

I set the limits at the racial slurs, the mocking tones, the emotionally charged rants meant to disparage me and my entire ancestry rather than argue a point, the interference with my personal life and business all because I hold a different view on a topic, the doxing, gaslighting, the bad mouthing, spreading lies about me, turning my friends against me, stripping away my rights and copyrights, harassing people who enjoy my work among- other things.

I usually exercise my right to self preservation in these instances- imma block, delete, ignore, forward or clap back. Word. Lol.

I'm sorry, but if you have to attack the individuality of a person to argue your point, you've lost the argument and you never had one to begin with.

Take for instance, the bit you wrote about me taking a blow to 'my ego' - do you see the problem with that?

What has holding a view different from yours on a particular subject got to do with the ego?

Do you mean to say the only way I can hold an opinion different from yours on a matter is if I were hubristic?

Are you projecting? What's happening? Lol

And if I call you out for this, I'm defensive? Way to add gaslighting to your bigotry and intolerance of opinions that don't align with yours. No offense.

I give myself permission to hold unpopular views. I give myself permission to think differently from others. I give myself permission to see what I see and believe what I believe and form an opinion on what I see and believe divorced from others' views and based on my own understanding of the workings of this world or in this case Jikook.

No amount of name calling will change this fact. We see things from different perspectives after all.

You need to back your ON break up theory with more than just fake subs and vague claims about claiming behavior.

Lol. Fake subs? You mean the Hajima bit from the On comeback special I put in my video? Interesting.

I think I see what you mean about my break up theory and I agree to some extent. Like, come up here with charts and paragraphs and excel spreadsheets on why I think Jikook were broken up?

I would be happy to do that kind of analysis.

I think the problem for me here is, I feel tasked to convince rather than to share my opinion on the matter or even expand on my theories for discourse sakes and that makes me really uncomfortable.

Not to psychoanalyze you, but I feel when you ask this of me you are not just asking me to divulge my thoughts on a topic but to disabuse you of your own biases surrounding the topic.

I don't think this is about my opinion at all. I think it's about your own beliefs about Jikook. And there's nothing wrong with that. If you believe in something you need to stand for it. Just don't mind if others do same and don't call them names for doing so. Because if you do mind, then that's bigotry.

The fact is my opinion contradicts your beliefs about Jikook and you either want to punish me for it hence the slurs, are in denial, or you want to believe my point of view- can't really tell.

I think there is a limit in general to how far I can prove Jikook in anyway and that has nothing to do with lack of evidence, my ego or my rationality. And yes, I often shroud my beliefs in vague expressions because I don't want to set myself up or open myself up to legal suits. I can only prove Jikook to a point and nothing beyond my belief. Beyond that, I would be skating on thin ice and making bighit a tad richer.

During the period you allege they were broken up, Jimin pulled JK in a hug, grabbed Jungkook by his lapel, JK called Jimin sexy, they did the flirty challenge...

So if I understand you correctly, all these is what makes Jikook a couple to you and indicate they are dating?

Alright then.

Hobi calls Jimin sexy all the time. BTS calls eachother sexy all the time. I don't think that's a sign they are in a polyamory.

Jungkook plays with his hyungs' dick and ass and talks about falling for them most times. I don't think that makes him gay or in a relationship with any of them.

Lemme just cut to the chase. I've reached my photo limits. I have said a countless times now, that I don't view skinship and all these interactions you've pointed out as indication two people are dating- especially not two Koreans working within the homoerotically charged space of Kpop.

And I have given out a few of the metrics I use in considering whether any ship in BTS is real over the course of my blogs- intimacy, exclusive behaviors such as and not limited to claiming eachother and exercising certain rights and authorities over eachother and against the group, stress trails as a result of keeping their relationship a secret, the microaggressions, breaching the fourth wall and others.

I think what this comes down to is differences in perspectives on a fundamental level. Not egos.

I don't see the things you see as the signs Jikook are real and dating, as signs Jikook are real and dating. If I did, I would be seeing every ship in BTS as real but I don't.

And you consider the metrics I use in ascertaining Jikook as vague something something. I think we are at an impasse.

But explain the bit about 'insensitive' to me please. I would love to engage in that discourse. Why would it be insensitive for two exes to act cordially with eachother within a workplace in the aftermath of a breakup?

Then the bit about grieving...

So grieving is one of your metrics for accessing whether or not two people are broken up?

That's interesting. I mean I don't disagree but I also don't think Jikook are gonna come to work with oversized pajamas, dark shades, boxes of tissues and a blanket slung over their shoulders because of a broken heart... it's 2020 not Manila. They've grown, are learning and getting better at dealing with their emotions on camera because, as Suga pointed out, they are aware the least bit of tension translates to the screens.

I mean Jimin said it himself in his 2020 interview, he's learned to react less intensely to certain things. And sometimes, he tries to downplay certain things. He tries to perform Jikook when Jikook are not in a great place. It's only in recent times, On era, where JK has opted out and not gone along with it.

I think he does that and uses their shared 'Jikook agenda' and performances of Jikook as a means to fix things or break the ice between them at least.

But clearly Jk wasn't having it that day as he kept putting up boundaries with Jimin throughout that Run episode- unless of course you are disputing this as well on the grounds Jimin dragged his ass into a hug. Chilee.

I think most people wouldn't have felt there was something off with Jikook in that On period at all had it not been for Run 116. It's similar to how, had it not been for Jimin's birthday saga, the Esquire shoot behind scenes and Grammy reaction video, no one would have felt there was something going on between Jikook in the October timeline.

I think we would have seen and felt the less interactions and professionalism between them in the aftermath of it but for the most parts, moments like the couch scene in the Grammy reaction video wouldn't have made sense to any of us especially as we had just witnessed JK in the ON:E concert rushing to comfort and console JM when he was tearing up at the end of the concert.

At least when he pushed JM into a ditch somewhere in the dark in Soop we know he had been drinking and they were playing competitive sports. Even with that he still showed some concern when Jimin fell and injured himself afterwards.

I think we would all be wondering if Jikook were fanservice at that point, a fanservice relationship where JK only consoled Jimin when he cried infront of thousands of people at concerts and nibbled his ear while he was at it.

And I think we would be on opposite sides of the argument: me, arguing Jikook were experiencing a hiccup in their relationship and you, rationalizing that moment with anything from 'JK don't have to be at JM's beck and call' 'he is an introvert who is shy to show affections publicly' to even something about the weather.

But I would have looked at this moment from the October pop up video behind scenes and assumed JK was mad at Jimin for something JM had done and had done something in retaliation and was now feeling sorry he did.

And I would have based it off of this moment, or a countless similar ones from around On era or the previous eras where JK had done this exact same thing- frozen in place and staring at Jimin in the middle of a shoot or interview after sliding his hands down Tae's chest, clung on to the others unnecessarily to get a reaction out of JM.

Would I have been right? It really doesn't matter to me as long as it makes sense to me. I ship Jikook in a way that makes sense to me. Jikook are gay, in a gay relationship with each other and are human like anyone of us- that makes sense to me. Whether I am right or wrong.... who cares and why does it matter?

Personally, I think the only person grieving in that period was JK not JM and I don't think he grieved for long before he switched off his humanity and went stone cold tit for tat terminator on JM and BTS's ass. Lol. He had JM looking all kinds of subdued in that era. Lmho.

People grieve in various ways. In my opinion. For Jimin, I feel he puts on a strong facade most times when he has to film during such times and lately I feel he masks his emotions with anger.

Jk masks his pain with anger too sometimes but I feel in recent times, he is leaning more towards indifference. I think he tries not to be as affected by certain things as compared to the early half of 2020...

But I understand what you mean when you talk about grieve. I think for me rather than look for physical evidence of grief like a sad face, a tear drop dripping down a face, I love for vulnerability in them.

JK's is easy to tell because he tends to open himself up to others such as Tae or Jin or Hobi- and I don't mean like his interactions with them. I mean he leans on them for moral or emotional support.

In the Holiday remix video where he was hiding behind Jin, I felt he was feeling very vulnerable and exposed after that intense moment with Jimin.

It's what he does when he is feeling vulnerable. He turns to others especially Jimin and if Jimin is the cause of his vulnerability he turns away from him like he did within On era or even in Run 116.

When he is in a good place with Jimin, often he is closed off to the others. Jimin does the opposite. He shuts himself up entirely from the group. I don't think he likes to go through his pain by himself.

I've always found that bit fascinating about them. Jk opens himself to people when he is at his lowest while JM closes himself off when he is at his worst.

It played out in their rainy day fight as well. In JK's vulnerability, that's when he let Jimin in, lowering his walls while JM on the other hand closed himself off to him.

Can you give me more than they were together in that period because they played with eachother's lapels?

You don't think I'm thinking rationally when I insist on my theory? Uhmmm... okay? What is rational in this case?

Listen, I recieve a lot of hate for my 'irrational thoughts and opinions' out in these streets. I've lost potentially great friendship on this platform because of it. As I type this, there is someone in someone else's DMs persuading them not to read and engage with my posts because I'm extremely evil I think Jikook break up from time to time in their relationship.

If I genuinely believed in the slightest least or had the least doubt that Jikook were together in that period I would change my mind on the topic- damn my pride and ego. It simply isn't worth the hustle.

If it helps your sanity, please stop reading my blogs. My blogs are not for everyone. It makes some people happy, it makes some people mad and some people experience both.

My gratification is in sharing my thoughts and chronicling Jikook's journey for my own appeasement and support of Jikook. I owe it to them as a believer and a supporter to humanize them as much as possible.

I do not seek to convert others, change minds, or convince anyone of my opinions or to disabuse anyone of theirs.

Let's just agree to disagree on the matter please. Or if you can drop the ad hominems, I would be more than happy to go back and forth with you on this very topic. It's actually shaping out to be one of my favorite Jikook eras. I love me some terminator JK. Lol.

Signed,

GOLDY

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x0401x · 4 years

Text

Jeweler Richard Web Short Story

Deviated a little from the usual translations to deliver a short story from Tsujimura Nanako’s official site for Seigi’s birthday. The fandom is kind of a mess right now, so here’s a bit of lighthearted content (and also to celebrate the release of volume 10′s digital copy).

Raw version here. Please consider supporting the creators by purchasing digital copies of the official releases: Novel || Manga || Fanbook

(Quick explanation before-hand, to spare confusion: there’s a mention of Fukuzawa Yukichi in this story. He’s a historical figure whose face is printed on 10,000-yen notes.)

Biography Series of Ramen-Specialized Natakaya ―Case of the Storm-and-Stress Pudding―

My name is Nakata Seigi. I’m the owner of Nakataya, a commonplace ramen shop that you can find anywhere. I run the shop in a certain part of a certain rural town. At Nakataya, the costumers choose their ramen’s stock, and no matter what anybody says, I recommend the soy sauce one. Tonkotsu is also popular lately. Our neighbor on the right side is the English pub “Jeff & Harry”, and on the left is the Sri Lankan restaurant “Genie in the Lamp”, so there’s crowding during the lunch break period of nearby companies, but most of the customers are regulars.

The regulars always said that my ramen was delicious and ate it all. That made me extremely happy. But, if it was possible, I wanted to meet a new costumer for the first time in a while. It could even be someone who would strictly reprove me for drifting about so complacently.

Just as I was thinking this, selfish of me as might be, it happened. The shadow of a person I didn’t know passed through the red split curtains of the Nakataya.

“Welcome!”

“Pardon the intrusion.”

It was a man with a neat silhouette. His blue eyes were like a piece of ice floe that had flowed from a northern country, sparkling brightly as they reflected me. His golden hair formed fluffy waves. His brown leather boots glistened. He wore gray slacks over a white shirt that shone a beautiful white, to the point it could make one say it was a bit too much for visiting a ramen shop.

I always had my heart racing a little when meeting new costumers. With my chest throbbing, I smiled at the novel guest. “What can I get you?”

“...ing.”

I hadn’t been able to hear it well, so I leaned my body over the counter.

The customer was standing upright at a distance of about two steps away, looking at me straightforwardly. And so, he said, “Pudding, please.”

“Pudding?”

“Yes.”

Had I heard it wrong, I pondered.

However, he repeated once more with a clear voice, “Pudding, please.”

“A pudding.”

“Yes.”

“Please wait a moment.”

Pudding. Pudding, in a ramen shop. I wondered if he had mistaken the establishment. Maybe for the English pub next door, which had a blueberry and brandy sauce pudding in its daytime menu. Just for the heck of it, I checked with him, saying this was a ramen shop. But he didn’t budge. Pudding. With an unyielding will, this stunning person sought a pudding from me. He was asking the owner of Nakataya for a pudding.

I see. This is determination. I accept that resolve of his. The only thing I can do is make him a pudding.

“Please wait a bit.”

“All right.”

The possessor of a Caucasian beauty sat gracefully on the counter’s stool, like a silver fox spirit curling up its tail and lying down. It was a waiting posture. He didn’t playfully peek at his smartphone or move around unnecessarily. I intuitively sensed that this man was the real deal.

Thankfully, there were no other customers in Nakataya yet. There was still time until the busy noon hours. And as I recalled, I had a memory from the distant, distant past, of eating a delicious pudding made by my mother.

Thanks, Hiromi. You doing well?

The ingredients were eggs and sugar. All I needed was a cup-like vessel.

I made the caramel. Produced the pudding mixture. Poured it into the cup. Then cooked it at low heat, borrowing hot water from the equipment that I used for boiling the noodles.

Sure enough, the pudding was done. With nipping sounds, yellow confectionery landed on a saucer.

“Sorry for the wait. Here’s the pudding.”

“Thank you.” From the counter, he stealthily took the pudding and the spoon.

He ate it.

Grasping the spoon with his right hand and bending it into a comfortable angle, he held the pudding’s saucer with his left hand, which seemed to accompany the action. Even though the tableware looked prone to making clinking sounds, it didn’t produce a single noise. He aimed purely for my pudding.

You had to be like that when eating something, I perceived.

I had never met anyone who ate pudding as earnest and wholeheartedly as this man. That was to be expected. After all, I was the owner of a ramen shop. I seldom saw people eating pudding. But I could tell.

He was my shop’s savior.

I swallowed my saliva with a gulp and asked gently, “How was it?”

“Absolutely superb.” He grinned, stood up straight and took out his wallet, leaving a fee on top of the old register.

It wasn’t the price of a pudding. Our ramen was 400 yen per bowl.

“Thank you for the meal.”

As he took his leave, what he left behind was a 1000-yen note.

From that day onward, he came by daily. Always during a time when there was no one else around. And he would say with his cool voice, “Pudding, please.” When saying so, he would sit at the counter. Always on the second seat from right to left.

From the other side of the counter, I would reply, “Roger!” And then, I would make a pudding for him.

Ever since that time, I had studied. While devoting myself to the way of ramen on one hand, I also analyzed puddings from many angles, such as what a tasty pudding was like, what it took to please someone with a pudding, what types of pudding were both delicious and good for the health and what pudding was from a metaphysical viewpoint. A cook should never neglect the pursuit for knowledge.

“Nakata-kun, aren’t your goals kinda weird lately?” the younger brother of the next-door pub’s owner had asked, making a dubious face at me, but that wasn’t the case at all. If I only thought about ramen, I wouldn’t be able to run a ramen shop. Frankly speaking, the fact that this person had showed up when I was thinking that I needed a breakthrough must have been, yes, destiny.

This road was going to lead me in the right direction. The direction I should go. This pudding customer was just like a Polar Star for me.

The amount of money that he would leave changed from day to day. He never cut off from the 1000-yen notes, which I was nothing but grateful for, considering the cost price, and they linked miraculously with the results I had estimated each time, so that was as expected of him. He was clearly a pudding pro. I couldn’t imagine just how many places I would have to go through to develop a palate like that.

Which was why honing my skills was worth it.

Today’s pudding was a bit different from the usual. Perhaps a sign of this had been transmitted to him too, as the gorgeous guest raised his eyebrows only a little higher than normal and looked at me. Could he notice it? Could he? Not just the taste of the pudding, but also this sense of presence?

Putting my utmost feelings into it, I placed it on the counter. “Here you go. Pudding in a bowl.”

What I had laid there was a ramen bowl. It was a simple white one, bearing the characters for “Nakataya” in red. The inside was completely filled with a yellow pudding. Depending on what you thought of it, that quantity might well be fitting for torture. I was the only one who had to know just how many egg yolks and how much sugar I put in it. But I was fully aware that this man didn’t love pudding with a half-hearted resolution.

He accepted the bowl with a cool facial expression, letting show a delight that might have been there or not. His movements were very natural, as if he were merely receiving a ramen with a tiny bit more toppings than usual.

“I shall be having it.”

“Go ahead.”

I tried to offer a Chinese spoon instead of an ordinary one, but the man stopped me with a hand. Of course, I had already anticipated as much and made the arrangements. As I promptly gave him the usual silver spoon, the man grinned.

This person’s smile was extremely beautiful. It was like a white flower blooming at the break of dawn.

With unwavering hand movements, he steadily thrust the spoon into the pudding bowl. A heap of pudding appeared on top of the spoon. It seemed to have about the same amount as a cup-sized pudding. And like magic, he nimbly swallowed it in one bite. Holding my breath, I saw the scene through.

A spoonful. Another spoonful. Yet another spoonful.

Just as always, with unfaltering hand motions, he proceeded to eat a pudding that had about ten times more volume than usual at a steady pace. Of course, he also didn’t leave any of the caramel accumulated at the bottom of the bowl. He held the bowl with his two hands, as if drinking up to the last drop of a ramen, and like a hero having a high-grade victory sake, he drank the caramel in one go with a gulp.

Once he set the bowl on the counter and softly wiped his mouth, he quietly looked at my face. Without realizing, I had been clutching the hem of my apron with both hands.

“How was it?”

“You have finally mastered the way of it.”

“Then that means...!”

He nodded as if extremely satisfied, small lips forming a broad smile like a sculpture of an angel. Taking his wallet from his pocket, he tried to present Fukuzawa Yukichi to me, but I stopped him with a hand. I had been receiving too much until now. And I had already gained plenty of something bigger than money from him.

He must have realized that too. Putting the banknote back into his pocket, he chuckled with a whiff. “This is the supreme fine item that I had been seeking.”

“That’s great. Hum, just who are you...?”

“My name is Richard.”

“Richard”. I wondered why. It was my first time hearing it, yet it sounded somewhat nostalgic.

Having eaten the pudding so delightfully, Richard-shi crinkled his blue eyes slightly and laughed with a snort. “To think you had been hiding a skill of this level. I am impressed.”

“Same here; how can I thank you for not turning your back on my abilities?”

“I pray that this pudding will be a significant step towards the path of your cooking.” He reached a hand to me across the counter.

I frantically wiped my hands on the apron, gripping his hand back. It was a moving scene. I would probably continue to pursue the way of ramen. Meanwhile, I would be making puddings for this person – for Richard. I had that presentiment.

And then...

“Here he is! Ricky, what’re you doing?”

The one who had barged in like a storm was Jeffrey-san from the pub next door. Flustered, he strangled Richard, who sat composed on the stool. Richard’s expression didn’t change even at a time like this. He was game.

“Nakata-kun, I’m so sorry. This is our cousin who came from Hong Kong because we asked for assistance. Geez, Ricky, we were thinking something was off ‘cause you never showed up even though we properly told you where the pub was. You can’t take advantage of Nakata-kun just because he’s nice! Well, Nakata-kun, we’ll come over again with Henry to eat shoyu ramen. Adieu!”

As if dragging a large suitcase, Jeffrey forced his cousin along and left. When disappearing on the other side of the split curtains that hung at the exit, Richard smiled faintly as if to say, “Farewell, then”. I smiled back too. Things like “No, it isn’t the time to be putting on airs like that. What’s the meaning of this, slacking off even though you were asked to help with the pub and ordering pudding from the next-door shop?” weren’t important. I wasn’t thinking about that. Because, for me, polishing my skills was what mattered. Still, that guy’s love for pudding was trouble.

Hm? “That guy’s”?

I rubbed my eyes.

Does that mean Richard? Speaking of which, his face when he ate my pudding for the first time was like that of a surprised child, and—and then—

I woke up.

My name is Nakata Seigi. I’m an university student who attends Kasaba University.

What was that? That Nakataya thing? Although just for a little while, I had been living the life of a ramen shop owner. But pudding. Pudding at a ramen shop.

He was an unbending man even inside a dream, I thought as I checked my phone, which rested next to my pillow. 10:00 PM. It seemed I had dozed off while lying on my bed as I reviewed a textbook. He probably wouldn’t get mad at me if I called him now.

The line connected after three dial tones. Richard. His cool voice as he asked if something had happened was making me feel somewhat pained right now.

“Richard, hum.”

“Yes.”

“Would you... be even a little bit happy if I said that I was gonna make... a whole ramen bowl of pudding?”

The response was a dangerous “Haah?”. That was when I shook off the remains of the dream.

“Hm-hm, it’s nothing. Don’t mind me. It’s fine, really. Yep. Yep. Well, then.”

Honestly, what was I doing? This man was a royal milk tea and pudding extremist. A significant change in size would also affect the taste and texture. Logically thinking, there was no way he would be pleased with something like that. I knew that.

But the dream version of me probably wanted to see Richard’s face of delight, and I now wound up taking it seriously.

“My bad, my bad. I’ll make it in the usual proper size and with the same old taste.”

For a moment, he pressed me about why on Earth I had suddenly talked about that, but I escaped it by beating around the bush. Because I could see that he would tell me not to call him while I was still half-asleep. I couldn’t bring myself to take much of his time either.

As I was about to hang up with a “well, that was really all, so see ya”, Richard said lastly with a voice that sounded purposeful, “Aah, right, right. Your birthday is coming up soon. Make sure to think about what you want to get.”

Aah. Now that he had mentioned, it was May. I used not to think much of birthdays in the past, but maybe because of a thankful increase in the number of people I had to celebrate it with, I also became conscious of and started thinking about it.

He was trying to fool me with non-committal words like “aah, right, right”, but he must have had it properly memorized since long ago. We had a bond where I could tell as much. I was very happy that we had been able to build such a relationship. That was why, rather than things like “I wanna get this” or “I wanna go to this place”, the wish I wanted to make come true might have been something along the lines of, “I want a tiny memory”.

“It’d be great if we could go eat ramen together one day.”

“Yes, that is true.”

Eh?

Before I could think that an idiot like me had heard it wrong, the call ended. Richard. That Richard. Could it be he had just given the OK to go eat ramen with me? That Richard, who was just like a heaven-sent child of gemstones and Ginza.

“Haha!”

I tossed my phone onto the bed, rolling onto my back and flapping my limbs. It was the Nakata’s dance of joy. Holy shit. That came from an unexpected place.

Thank you, version of me who was the owner of Nakataya.

Ramen with Richard. For the moment, I didn’t know any better birthday present.

Author note: happy birthday, Nakata Seigi-kun. Just like a certain someone, let me also gently watch over you gradually growing up healthy and comfortably.

#housekishou richard shi no nazo kantei #the case files of jeweler richard #jeweler richard #richard ranashinha de vulpian #nakata seigi #jeffrey claremont #henry claremont #tsujimura nanako #web short stories #my translation #richard

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ughgclden · 3 years

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bee, love, don’t apologise, please, it’s okay, and first and foremost, are you alright?? i hope you’re taking care of yourself, love, but i understand, i don’t think there’s been a year since third grade that i haven’t gotten pneumonia in the winter. I hope you’re feeling alright!!

honestly, dead poets society is one of my only personality traits anymore, i find myself drawing parallels to it constantly, for no reason but i love thinking about it. i’ve watched it so many times at this point, it’s,,, concerning. those tests always take me way less time than they give me, and i used to feel really awkward, i remember i took a bio one once, four hours they gave me, 45 minutes in, i was finished, and the moderator didn’t believe me. i aced it too, like the silly little neil kinnie i am. i’ve gotten used to the ‘worse’ side of being a neil kinnie, and honestly, now that my mum isn’t as controlling about everything as she used to be, it’s easier to deal with. i remember once, i’d gotten an 89 in algebra, and she threatened to pull me out of the fall show. that was a neil perry moment if i ever had one lol. the biggest thing these days is just imposter syndrome, imposter syndrome like oh you’re not hispanic enough, but also, you’re not queer enough, nonbinary enough, things like that. It’s exacerbated some days, but i try.

i watched the it movies on my cousin’s hbo,,, i may or may not have used it without her permission since she forgot to log out of my computer, but that’s neither here nor there. i remember having such a hard time taking the first one seriously initially, because of all the new kids on the block jokes, having a mum who was obsessed with them made it hard, especially when i actually got them all- in truth, the only midnight premiere i’ve been able to make was the force awakens, and i had school the next day too. i’m definitely a richie kinnie, and i have the internalised homophobia (only towards myself though) to prove it /hj my waterbottle has both a sticker of neil on it and a sticker of the r + e carving on it. in case there was any doubt about me lmao. stan kin makes sense for you, honestly, i can see it, i can see it.

okay so listen- no really, i’d bought them with the intention of only drinking half of one that night and spreading them out like that, but then came 9:45pm, and i had a research paper (on womens’ pockets/lack thereof) due at 10am that i simply hadn’t even started, so i downed them all in an hour and got the paper turned in at 5:56 in the morning. but i scare you huh? /hj bee, you’re too sweet, in truth, i’m fairly inelegant, but i try, as for the comforting and cosy, i’ll take you at your word, since that is something only someone interacting with me could discern. i do try to be kind to others for the most part. mainly i think because i’m usually on the other end of mean people.

i’m just perceptive like that bee, i dunno what to tell you, something just tells me, you know? /j and thank you, i always feel a little silly talking about it, because most of the tattoos i want are dead poets society tattoos, i guess some part of me, within the part of me that feels so incredibly tied to it, feels as if if i were able to get a tattoo i’d owe it to the movie in some way, if that makes any sense. i’ve already begged a friend of mine to go with me to get my first once i get to new york, the question though, is what to get first. i’ve got time to make a decision (for once in my life) i just spend a lot of time thinking about it.

honestly, i have never known a school rule to make sense. banning ripped jeans? banning dyed hair? it’s almost as if if they don’t stifle everything natural about kids expressing themselves they dont feel like they’re doing anything. but i digress. the same-sex couple rules were. awful. 12 year old me had enough going on without having an administrator yell at my friend and i for hugging in the courtyard and not leaving until we were a foot apart, but hey.

okay, jumping over a fence to go to a mcdonalds? how coming of age indie movie manic pixie dream girl of you /hj

200k words, is that a challenge? also ahaha not at all like my italian uncle up there just opened a ‘pizzeria’ /hj but mob!star au? might be a project i should start… granted, i’m not as good a storyteller as you, but i can try.

when i was little, i wanted to revolutionise things, i guess. i even actually wrote out a campaign, i wonder if its still somewhere. thank you for believing in me, but these days, bee, i’m thinking less about changing the world, and more about making it the next few weeks, and then the ones after that. little star was aware of so much, but also so little. i wonder what they’d think of me now, honestly.

i did, in fact, teach archery, it was so fun but my arms got SO SORE, and the kid who challenged my archery skills seemed surprised when i actually,, hit the bullseyes. my inner susan was happy then. incidentally the experience is also why i made a playlist called “touchstarved and wanting to teach you to shoot a bow” which low-key slaps when i’m lonely. and bee omg i cannot believe you said im better than susan pevensie i will be thinking about this for the rest of my life thank you- and yes, yes it was named aslan, however did you guess? /j prince caspian<33333

i’ll let you know my results from the tournament, as soon as they come out, and i say this having just put on pjs after taking off my suit, and sitting in the room with my cat in my dear evan hansen hoodie, frantically refreshing the results page because i’m anxious and impatient.

i hope you have a good night, with fitful and restful sleep, i’m sorry this got to be so long, but you know me, i certainly can talk. i’m honestly shocked i even made it to finals, considering i was running off four hours of sleep, having gone to bed at three last night. whoops.

all my love, hugs, and a warm mug of tea,

yours,

star✨

p.s i said yes so that?? happened?? it honestly feels surreal but we’re not gonna be in the same place anymore come the end of this year, so that’ll be something to deal with

P.p.s might just start adding spanish or latin or russian phrases to these if i keep having to translate your cute french bee /lh /hj

star my love, i know you said don't apologise, but i think the word 'sorry' makes up about 60% of my vocabulary. i'm okay!! was just a bit icky, but luckily i've recovered now!!

that's so nice - and again, makes so much sense for you. i think you would work perfectly in welton, i know it. i love bringing the messages from that film into my own life, as silly as it may sound. i'm astonished, and so fucking jealous of you. i used to finish tests maybe half an hour early, but hours is so impressive??? fun fact i did finish my physics final in about 45 minutes and slept for the other hour <3 neil would b proud my love!!! oh my god - i'm so sorry that happened??? but that is also so neil kinnie??? it seems futile me saying this, but i assure you that you are hispanic enough, and queer enough, and non-binary enough. you are enough, period. more than enough even. imposter syndrome is the worst, and i'm so so sorry you're dealing with it.

she did that to herself, you just saw an opportunity /lh a midnight premiere of the force awakens sounds so cute though omg - i hope you had the absolute best time. the r + e carving actually broke me. as a die hard reddie shipper since 2017, seeing the movie make it basically canon?! had me a mess in the cinema.

you are ridiculously comforting and cosy, everything about you feels like a warm hug from a familiar face and i love it. and the way you write is so smooth, it makes me think of a quill smoothly gliding across parchment, the deep black ink unsmudged and pristine. that seems a little pretentious of me, but oh well.

i also want some dps tattoos!! i desperately want "and still we sleep" from todd's poem, and was also so so tempted to get an outline drawing of meeks + pitts dancing on the roof. i love that, and i can't wait until the day you get it, whichever one it may be. my one concern is becoming addicted to them and making my bank account suffer - at least my piercing obsession is a little easier to fund /hj

i've NEVER gotten that - they claim it's 'distracting' but how on earth would it be?? when i got to college, no one was distracted by my dyed hair, and i certainly wasn't distracted by other people's outfits or painted nails. you were yelled at. for hugging. a friend.. what the fuck is wrong with these people??

just call me ramona flowers star /j it was possibly the highlight of my school career, sans hiding in the back room of the music room to avoid a maths test

i bet you're an amazing storyteller, if these letters are anything to go by. it would be a new york times best seller, i know it

we all have to take things one step at a time, i think. that's the only way i really get through things if i'm honest. one day after another and the cycle repeats. i love wondering what young me would think of me now - i'd probably be intimidated of myself, but i like to think i'd be proud that i'm still here, pursuing something i love

that playlist. sounds nothing short of sheer perfection. i too am touch starved and want to teach someone to shoot a bow - even though i.. cannot shoot a bow... but i can wield a sword so, it's close enough.

i saw your message about the tournament results - im so fucking proud of you!!!! you deserve it so so much and i couldn't be happier for you. see, your words and ideas are changing the world, even if you don't realise it.

ps; that is so fun???? omg im so happy for you star, you deserve tis <33 i hope towards the end of this year whatever happens leaves you both happy, no matter how far the distance.

pps; omg no.. please don't do that.. aha that would be awful... definitely wouldn't make my heart race.. haha not at all

all of my love, star. pardon the pun, but you are out of this world ;) i'll leave you with one of my favourite quotes;

il n'y a qu'un bonheur dans la vie, c'est d'aimer et d'être aimé <3

#asks <3 #anon asks!#star anon #long post

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flowerfan2 · 4 years

Text

All Vows

A/N: Given that this is the second year in a row I’ve been inspired (compelled?) to write a Good Omens fic on Yom Kippur, I’m inclined to think there’s something to it. But who knows.

See below for more info and author’s notes. L’shana tova, everyone.

All Vows, A03

It's Yom Kippur again, and Crowley can't stop watching you tube videos of the Kol Nidrei service. It's hard to know where he fits, but Aziraphale is there to help.

Crowley hit pause on the video he was watching and shifted on the couch, pulling out his earbuds when it became clear that Aziraphale was talking to him (he could hear him either way, of course, but Aziraphale said it was rude to keep them in during a conversation).

“Are you still listening to Kol Nidrei services?” Aziraphale asked. “I don’t think you’re actually required to do it multiple times.” There was a soft smile tugging at his face, but Crowley didn’t mind the gentle teasing. He knew he was being a little, well, obsessive.

“I’m not required to do it at all,” he reminded Aziraphale. Demons didn’t need to go to temple. Crowley was aiming for a casual tone, but he kind of ruined it by swiping at his eyes, which were leaking rather annoyingly. Traitors.

“Being able to remotely watch Yom Kippur services from all over the world is a silver-”

“Do not say that again, Aziraphale,” Crowley grumbled, returning to more familiar territory. Aziraphale continued to find the “silver lining” in the COVID disaster in everything from less crowded roads to the months and months he’d had to try out different variations on his macaron recipe (Crowley had drawn the line at lobster maracons with buttercream and crabmeat filling), and every time, it grated on his nerves. No “rain bow” was going to make up for this disaster.

“I’m sorry, dear,” Aziraphale said, sliding over and taking Crowley’s hand. “I don’t mean to downplay your concern. But it is long past sundown here, and presumably in…” Aziraphale craned his neck to see what Crowley had been watching on his tablet, “New York City, and I think you can take a break now.”

Crowley let out a long breath, and laid his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder. “Kol Nidrei means ‘all vows’ in Aramaic,” he said.

“Hmm, yes,” Aziraphale agreed.

“Do you remember, then – when it got started… medieval times, all those persecuted Jews, forced to convert to other religions, wanted to return to their own community.” …”

“But they were worried that the oath they had sworn to God to follow another religion would get in the way. So the congregations developed the Kol Nidrei prayer to absolve them of the oaths they had made.”

Crowley digs his chin into Aziraphale’s warm shoulder, and Aziraphale gives his hand a squeeze. Of course Aziraphale knows all about it, they were both there, bearing witness to the many ways humans have wronged each other year after year in the name of religion. But something about this particular religious ritual, a legal formula recited every fall to address each person’s own relationship with their god, has hit him hard tonight.

“D’ya think it worksss for me?” Crowley asked quietly, his voice rebelling against him as surely as his eyes had earlier. “Can I be forgiven, for the vows I sssshouldn’t have made? Or does it not work, since She threw me out in the first place?” Was it still a vow against God if God pretty much forced him into it?

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, unclasping his hand from Crowley’s and enveloping him in a tight hug instead. “It works for everyone. Vah-yoe-mare Adonai, sah-lach-tee kid’vorecha.”

“And Adonai said, ‘I have pardoned them as you have asked,’” Crowley repeated, roughly translating the end of the prayer he had heard so many times.

They sat there in silence for a few minutes, Aziraphale adjusting his hold on Crowley to something more comfortable. Crowley snuggled against Aziraphale’s chest, rubbing his cheek along the worn velvet of Aziraphale’s waistcoat, a feeling of safety and warmth spreading through his body.

“So, which one was your favorite?” Aziraphale asked after a while, shifting so that he could reclaim his tea from where he had abandoned it at the other end of the couch. It was still at the perfect temperature, of course, despite the fact that he hadn’t taken a sip of it for quite a while.

“My favorite…?”

“Your favorite service. You must have watched a dozen of them tonight.”

It had been more than that, actually, if you counted all of the ones Crowley just checked out on you tube for a few minutes and then noped out of if it wasn’t particularly interesting.

“I always found that fancy congregation in Manhattan a bit too stuffy,” Aziraphale said, referring to the last one Crowley had viewed, and Crowley huffed out a laugh. Anything too stuffy for Aziraphale was, let’s say, more than a bit behind the times.

“Newt and Anathema had a good service in their backyard, actually,” Crowley said, grabbing his phone and swiping around until he found what he was looking for, then playing a snippet of the recording for Aziraphale. There were less traditional instruments playing along with the traditional prayers, and Aziraphale smiled as they heard what sounded like a ukulele.

“Anathema will really do anything for Newt, won’t she?” Aziraphale murmured approvingly. Anathema wasn’t Jewish, at least not by birth.

“Well, she thinks the cantor might be under some sort of spell, given how long she can hold out those high notes without breathing, so she’s taking a professional interest.”

Crowley showed Aziraphale a few pictures Anathema had sent him that afternoon, of Newt and Anathema’s yard, set up for a small group of neighbors with chairs spread out at least six feet apart. Their guests were all bringing their own prayer books, or using their phones to access the texts. Even some communities who usually wouldn’t allow the use of technology on the holidays had made exceptions for a variety of practices given the need to stay safe during the pandemic, although Crowley was pretty sure Newt and Anathema weren’t so conservative in their observance anyway.

“Things really are different this year,” Aziraphale said.

Crowley nodded. “Yup. Tomorrow someone is coming by to play the shofar for them. Apparently the guy is just going to go from house to house, if you want him to come play it for you, you just have to let him know and he’ll stop by. Home-delivery shofar blowing. But,” Crowley broke off, swiping until he found another photograph, and then turning his phone so Aziraphale could see the image of the long, curved ram’s horn with a mask somehow attached to the end, “it has to wear a mask too. It could be a super-spreader.”

Aziraphale stared at the photo of the shofar with a mask on it and started to giggle. Crowley harrumphed, but then Aziraphale did that little wiggle that meant he was truly endeared, and Crowley started giggling too.

“Humans are endlessly creative,” Aziraphale said into Crowley’s neck, when the giggles had subsided and they were once more curled up around each other. “They will rise to this challenge, as they have before.”

“Do you really think so, angel?” Crowley asked.

“I do, Crowley. I really do. And we’ll be here to watch them.”

“Together,” Crowley said shyly, hiding his blush in the soft fluff of Aziraphale’s hair. Because no matter what vows Crowley had made, no matter what heaven or hell had required of him, somehow, Aziraphale was still here.

“Yes, of course, dear boy,” Aziraphale replied, nuzzling a delicate kiss into the spot just behind Crowley’s ear, fond and steady and true. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

_____

Note: Here I am again, for some crazy reason, writing another Yom Kippur fic. Yom Kippur is the traditional Jewish day of atonement, and the Kol Nidrei prayer is thought to have originated as a result of Jews being forced to convert to Christianity or Islam upon pain of death. Afterwards, many of the forced converts wanted to return to Judaism, but this was complicated by the fact that they had been forced to swear vows to another religion. The Kol Nidrei legal formula was developed to enable them to return, and is recited each year at the beginning of Yom Kippur to absolve them of their vows to God made under duress. The melody of the Kol Nidrei prayer, which became standardized in the 1800’s, is particularly haunting. To hear and see the Kol Nidrei sung by Cantor Angela Buchdahl, the first Asian-American to be ordained as a rabbi and cantor and an amazing person, go here.

Jewish communities around the world, large and small, have been conducting remotely accessible services this year, and finding numerous ways to allow people to come together for high holiday observance in one form or another while still following social distancing guidelines and keeping each other safe. As just one of many examples, Temple Emanu-El of New York has made its high holiday services available online to everyone; you can find the Kol Nidrei service here. (As described on Wikipedia,Temple Emanu-El is the first Reform Jewish congregation in New York City and, because of its size and prominence, has served as a flagship congregation in the Reform branch of Judaism since its founding in 1845. Its landmark Romanesque Revival building on Fifth Avenue is one of the largest synagogues in the world. I was there once for a wedding - it blew me away, and honestly, most Jewish synagogues don’t look anything like it, but it is a very lovely place to have visited).

#Good Omens #Jewish Good Omens #Good Omens fic #Aziraphale #Crowley #ineffable husbands

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jokertrap-ran · 3 years

Photo

[Stand My Heroes] CAUTION！月夜の予告状 (Advance Notice on a Moonlit Night) Kujo Soma SSR Gacha Card Story【Deep beneath that Noble Smile】Translations

*Sutamai Master-list *MC name is retained as my usual. Requested by @greenphoenix96! *Part 2′s Story title: [新婚気分？ Feeling like a Newlywed?] and is voiced.

Part 1 / Part 2

―—That day, I was invited to the dinner party planned by Miyase who was serving a French full-course meal.

A knock echoed through the silent corridors of the Kujo Mansion.

Ran: Kujo-san, it’s Mizushima. I came to inform you that the preparations are almost complete.

I heard him say “come in” from behind the door, so I reached out towards the doorknob―—

─────────────────────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Ran: ―—Please excuse me.

Kujo: Yes, it’s great of you to have come here.

(That formal attire really suits him well...)

His entire being really brought out the qualities in these already high-quality goods he was decked out in.

I felt my heart skip a beat at his manner of dressing, although he was only going to be wearing it for a short period of time.

Ran: Thank you for inviting me to such a magnificent dinner party today.

Kujo: I could say the same as well. You have my thanks for accepting the invitation I extended to you. The dress suits you well too. ―—You look beautiful in it.

(Beautiful, he says...)

I was moved by how straight-forward his praise was.

Since we were going to be having a French full-course meal, I was also dressed in formal attire.

A dress. something that I wouldn’t usually wear.

I could feel my skin flushing a little at the embarrassment of exposing my skin in a way that I wasn’t used to.

Ran: ...Thank you. I was really troubled about what to wear, and this was the dress that I picked out at the last minute. I suppose it was worth all the effort dolling myself up if it nets your praise.

Kujo: With someone as gorgeous as you claiming the seat next to me on such a special dinner party, I’m sure Go would also be able to cook up something much more exquisite than usual.

Kujo: That being said, however, I do not wish for this to be a pretentious affair, so please, relax and enjoy yourself.

Smiling at his warm approach, something piqued my attention,

(His necktie is a little crooked...)

Kujo: ―—? Is there something wrong with how I’m dressed up?

Ran: Oh no, not at all. It really looks good on you… It’s just that your tie’s a little...

Kujo: Oh, it’s crooked now, is it? My apologies. I’ve shown you an ungraceful side of me.

(Not at all, actually. It feels rather surprising and refreshing to see that.)

In any case, I watched as he faced the mirror and fixed it back up.

Kujo: ―—―—

(...―—Oh, it’s crooked again.)

Kujo: ―—―—

(Oh, there it goes again. Wait, could it be that...)

Ran: Sorry, it must be hard to focus while I’m staring at you. I’ll go wait for you outside.

Kujo: No, stay here.

Ran: Eh―—

Kujo: Actually... ―—Could I ask for your help if it isn’t too much of a bother?

Ran: Help? ...You mean, to tie your tie?

Kujo: Yeah. I was organizing the bookshelves yesterday and accidentally jammed my finger when the dictionary, Wide garden of words, fell.

Ran: What!? Finger aside, are you okay?

Kujo: I’m functioning perfectly, as you can see for yourself. I was treating my finger with a warm compress up till earlier, but it seems like my fingers still need more time to heal in order to tie a tie.

Ran: Since that’s how it is, then please let me help you with it instead.

Ran: ―—Please pardon me. You’ll have to come stand by me for me to help you.

Kujo: You have my thanks.

Kujo crossed the distance between us in a couple of strides, standing before me.

(Whoa… That’s close.)

My breath caught in my throat, not used to being at such close distance with him.

Ran: I’ll undo it first, for starters. Will a plain knot do?

Kujo: Do as you seem fit. Will staying in this posture do?

Ran: Yes. ―—Oh, please raise your chin a little if possible.

Kujo: Understood.

I worked my hands in the knot, trying to keep them steady as I tied his tie.

Kujo: ―—

(Eek… My fingers brushed his skin for a bit there.)

Kujo: Those are some dexterous hands you have there. Thank you.

Ran: I’m glad to hear that. Here, it’s all done now.

Kujo: ...So, you’re familiar with fixing a guy’s tie?

Ran: Yes, I am.

Kujo: ―—

Ran: Well, I grew up watching my mother fix my father’s tie.

Ran: He even drunkenly said that no matter how much they quarrelled with each other ever since they first got married, my mom would always fix his tie for him without fail.

Kujo: Ever since they were newlywed? ...I see.

Ran: That’s right―— Okay! I think it’s perfectly tied now! What do you think?

Kujo: It’s beautifully formed. I’ll have to thank both you and your parents alike.

Ran: That’s great to hear. This is actually the first time I’m trying this out on someone else other than my father.

Kujo: This is also the first time I’ve had my tie done up by a girl; and also, the first time I’ve ever felt what it must be like to be a newlywed.

Ran: Wha-...

Internally screaming at the words, he had just spoken all so casually, I faced him with a smile―— Placing a single long finger atop the knot of his tie as my eyes narrowed into a smile.

───⋅𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐸𝒩𝒟⋆⋅☆

#Stand My Heroes #スタンドマイヒーローズ #スタマイ #Sutamai #Translations #Otome #Kujo Soma #Sawashiro Chiharu #CAUTION 月夜の予告状 #CAUTION Advance Notice on a Moonlit Night

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jounetsunosymphonia · 4 years

Text

The Master Likes a Mystery (Mankai Stage Winter 2020 translation)

translation for the stage version of winter’s second play! the song can be listened to in full here.

some of the parts that are the same as the original are just combinations of the fantranslation on the wiki and the official english version bc i mean they’re already there come on.

cast list

Arisugawa Homare (Tanaka Ryousei) as Sagishima Tooru Mikage Hisoka (Ueda Keisuke) as Tojo Shiki Takato Tasuku (Kitazono Ryo) as Nakatsu Keiji Tsukioka Tsumugi (Aramaki Yoshihiko) as Souma Keiichi Yukishiro Azuma (Ueda Kandai) as Kusanagi Shizuma

mild warnings for murder (of course), and implied incest(?)

Keiichi: She was the perfect fiancee!

Keiji: Don’t go poking your noses where they don’t belong!

Shizuma: My sister was not a girl against whom one would hold a grudge.

Shiki: Surely you don’t mean to say that you think I killed her, do you?

Sagishima: Will you cease your search for the culprit, then?

All: The coleus flower’s meaning is…

Sagishima: Master Shiki. …Master Shiki. Master Shiki, the cyclamens are blooming beautifully in the garden. Do you know what they symbolise? (cyclamens are deep love and sincere affection. just a fun fact.)

Shiki: Sagishima. Why is it that even when I pay you no mind, you continue speaking to me nonetheless?

Sagishima: Were you ignoring me?

Shiki: I was thinking. I didn’t wish to be interrupted.

Sagishima: As I thought. Then, would you like to take a walk and see the cyclamens—

Shiki: I have no interest whatsoever in flower language. I have an important—

Sagishima: This is the time when the Kusanagi family’s daughter usually takes her walk, however.

Shiki: Let us leave at once! …I’d like to take a look at the cyclamens.

Sagishima: As expected of Master Shiki. Understood.

Sagishima, Shiki Master and butler Master and servant (different word! same translation! i suffer)

Shiki I’m the master

Sagishima And I am the butler

Shiki Is there really such a butler who won’t listen to what he’s told?

Sagishima: My, my. Even a dog could outsmart you, Master Shiki.

Sagishima, Shiki The master’s mesmerised by that girl!

Sagishima: Oh...? This scent is that of a coleus flower, is it not?

Shiki: This handkerchief…it’s…! Hey…isn’t that Miss Kusanagi collapsed over there? Sagishima, call for a doctor at once!

Sagishima: Master Shiki, please stay back! …it’s too late.

Shiki: What?

Sagishima: Miss Kusanagi…has already passed.

Sagi, Shiki, Keiji The victim is the Kusanagi family’s daughter—

Shiki: Why has such a thing become of her?

Keiji: Why was she in such a place?

Sagishima: Why does she have such an expression on her face?

Sagi, Shiki, Keiji The dead tell no tales So it is only from the evidence We can find the truth

Keiji: I’m Nakatsu Keiji, I’m in charge of this case.

Sagishima: Detective Nakatsu Keiji…names truly reveal one’s identity… (folks i’m not repeating the cagey nakatsu joke here you can go read a3en if u want it)

Keiji: So you were the ones to discover the body, hm?

Shiki: What’s with that attitude?

Sagishima: Master Shiki, please stop.

Keiji: What was your relationship to the victim? You were acquainted, weren’t you? Were you just friends? Or…?

Shiki: How rude! Surely you don’t mean to say that you think I killed her, do you?

Keiji: Well, if we investigate, we’ll find out either way.

[winter telepathic convo time part 1!]

Hisoka: (Alice and Tasuku are so annoying.)

Tasuku: (I’ll take that as a compliment.)

Hisoka: (You’re acting, so you’re a good kid.)

Homare: (Hisoka-kun, do you mean to say that I’m irritating even without acting?)

Hisoka: (That’s what I’m saying.)

Tasuku: (Minagi’s script is like this, so it’s interesting. Now, how will you do, Tsumugi, Azuma-san?)

Shiki: Sagishima. Look up Miss Kusanagi’s personal relations at once.

Sagishima: Needlessly meddling in others’ affairs is a terrible habit of yours.

Shiki: I’m being suspected of murder! Do you expect me to simply sit and twiddle my thumbs?

Shiki The suspects are those around Miss Kusanagi—

Shizuma: Why has such a thing happened to my sister?

Keiichi: Why has she suffered so?

Keiji: Why are these two here?!

Shiki The culprit is one of these people I’ll be sure to uncover the truth

Sagishima: Miss Kusanagi’s older brother, Kusanagi Shizuma, and her fiance, Souma Keiichi.

Keiji: Leave the investigation to the police. Don’t go poking your noses where they don’t belong!

Shiki: Once I find the culprit, you can take all the credit.

Keiji: You’re doing all this without a warrant—

Shizuma: I don’t mind. Finding my sister’s murderer is of the utmost priority. Keiichi-kun, don’t you agree?

Keiichi: Ah? Y-yes, of course.

Sagishima: Everyone, thank you for your cooperation. Now, if you will allow me to ask some questions about the incident.

Shizuma: My sister was not a girl against whom one would hold a grudge. She was smart, good-natured…a young lady loved by all.

Keiichi: She was the perfect fiancee. She would have practically been wasted on me…

Keiji: Neither of you would have any motive to kill her. (directed to shiki) And you wouldn’t have wanted to lose her, so…

Shiki: That’s it! I’ve solved the case!

Everyone except Shiki: What?

Sagishima, Shiki Assailant and victim Older brother and fiance

Shiki I’ve figured it out!

Sagishima Will this be alright…?

Shiki It’s a good thing I’ve read so many mysteries!

Sagishima: That is true. Master Shiki is a surprisingly avid reader.

All The master’s mesmerised by a mystery!

Shiki: The culprit…is you, Nakatsu Keiji!

Keiji: Wh—?! Why would I be the murderer?

Shiki: It’s a common mystery trope! The least likely character is usually the culprit.

Keiji: I can’t believe this slander. Now, if you’ll excuse me.

Shiki: See, look at that! There must be a shady side to him!

Keiichi: I-I’ll be taking my leave as well. I’ve been feeling rather unwell since her passing.

Sagishima: Master Shiki. Detective Nakatsu Keiji is not the culprit.

Shiki: What did you say—?! Don’t tell me you’ve already figured out who it is!

Sagishima: Well.

Shizuma: To think the detective could be the culprit…fufu. How thrilling. I didn’t get a particularly good impression of him, after all.

Shiki: He treated me like a suspect as well, so it’s only fair.

Shizuma: That’s the first time I’ve laughed since my sister’s passing. Fate truly does work in mysterious ways…who would have thought friendship could bloom from such unfortunate circumstances?

Shiki: Indeed. I think we’ll get along quite well.

[winter telepathic convo time part 2!]

Azuma: (A cuddler…a poet…an amnesiac…to think that the three of us would be acting together, fate really does work in strange ways, doesn’t it?)

Homare: (Oh! I’ve been struck by inspiration for a poem, Azuma-san! A nurarihyon on ice! An illusion without expression!) (a nurarihyon is a sort of youkai. you know. the usual alice stuff.)

Hisoka: (Alice. Concentrate on acting.)

Homare: (A-ah. Pardon me.)

Azuma: (Being onstage is truly amazing…here, we can take as many breaths as we need.)

Sagishima, Shiki Master and master A friend and a friend (wonderful, thank you. yes i checked this time and it is in fact the same word.)

Shiki Curiously, we get along

Sagishima That’s a relief to hear

Shizuma If you’d like, give this book a read

Sagishima: My, what an adorable bookmark. (he takes it from the book that shizuma is lending to shiki, and puts it in his pocket.)

Sagishima, Shiki The master’s unusual new friend!

Sagishima: Master Shiki. We’ve received…this. (he hands over the threat letter)

Shiki: “Don’t investigate any further.” Is this a threat? Now, what shall we do?

Sagishima: Nothing good can come of you getting that look on your face.

Shiki: What~? I’m only leaving a little bait.

(OK HELLO IF U CAN WATCH FOOTAGE OF THE SHOW PLEASE DO BC THE FIGHT NOISES ARE IN FACT SOMETHING FUN HAPPENING—as in the game, keiichi attempts to sneak into the tojo household, but this time sagi beats his ass and disarms him bc he has a knife (!?) it’s very very good and delicious i love stage sagi so much bye)

Keiji: That agility…just what are you?

Sagishima: I am only a simple butler.

Keiji: Souma Keiichi…to think that the culprit was you the entire time.

Keiichi: N-no! You’ve got it wrong! I didn’t kill her!

Sagishima: But Master Souma…is this not your handwriting?

Keiji: Well? What now, Souma.

Keiichi: …you’re right. But so what if it is?

Keiji: Eh?

Keiichi: I wasn’t the one who murdered her. I even failed my attack on Tojo Shiki. What’re you gonna take me in for? I haven’t committed any crimes.

Keiji: You really think that’s going to work?

Sagishima: Even if being taken in by the police would not cause you any harm, perhaps it would be an issue for you were Master Kusanagi to find out the truth?

Keiichi: You—!

Shiki: What’s the meaning of this, Sagishima?

Sagishima: I believe you should explain for yourself. It would clear you of all suspicion of the murder.

Keiichi: Tch. ...I was seeing other women. I only wanted to marry that girl for the money.

Shiki: What!

Keiji: You…

Keiichi: There’s no way I’d want to marry such a boring woman as that otherwise! But...I’d never worry for cash again as long as I lived.

Sagishima: Master Souma would never have murdered her without getting a hold of her fortune.

Keiji: Then...why did he go after Tojo-san?

Keiichi: If Mr. Kusanagi found out that I was messing around with other girls, I’d lose the support I was already getting. Geez...what kind of shit luck is this...if you were gonna die, couldn’t you have waited til after we’d already gotten married?!

Shiki: (punches keiichi in the face. deserved.)

Keiichi: (grabs shiki’s lapels) The hell are you doing in front of the detective?

Shiki: Detective. Did I do anything wrong?

Keiji: Hmm. I must’ve had something in my eye. Did I miss anything?

Shiki: No, not at all.

Keiji: I understand that you didn’t kill her. But between criminal intimidation and breaking and entering, it appears you might guilty of some other crimes, so I’ll have to take you in.

Keiichi: (makes a fucking run for it and almost goes at sagishima)

[winter telepathic convo time part 3!]

Hisoka: (Tsumugi’s acting so awful…)

Homare: (I nearly had to raise a hand against him!)

Tasuku: (It’s no good…he’s concentrating too hard.)

Hisoka: (Receiving feelings onstage and connecting them to the next play…)

Homare: (Acting is truly a wonderful thing, is it not, Hisoka-kun?)

Tasuku: (It’s great that you guys can understand that too.)

Tsumugi: (We’re counting on you two for the rest!)

(this part is really funny to me bc mugi sounds so gentle and they’re all so soft but also at the same time keiichi is struggling against being arrested and gets dragged off stage by keiji, the duality of man i guess)

Sagishima, Shiki The culprit wasn’t Keiichi

Shiki Who on earth could it be?

Sagishima The scent on the kerchief The truth cannot possibly be so kind

Shiki I want to know the truth

Sagishima: My, my, Master Shiki is…

Sagishima: Oh. That’s an interesting book you have there.

Shiki: I borrowed it from Kusanagi-kun.

Sagishima: I am glad you have found yourself such a good friend. Will you cease your search for the culprit, then?

Shiki: Whatever for? Of course not.

Sagishima: …I see.

Sagishima: The scent wafting from that book…It’s the scent of a coleus flower, is it not.

Shiki: Coleus…? Where have I…N-no. It can’t be. The one who killed Miss Kusanagi—!

(83723847236486th time but oh my god if you can watch it please do because the expression that shiki makes when he realises i just. i die. every time. it hurts so much uechan i’m going to fight you irl (said with love) )

Sagishima: This is why I asked if you would give up your search. You really are no smarter than a dog.

Shiki: But…why…why would he…?

Sagishima: Master Shiki. Do you know what the coleus flower symbolises?

Shiki: I’ve already told you, I have no interest in flower language!

Shizuma, Sagishima: An impossible love.

Sagishima: That is its meaning.

Shiki: …it was you, wasn’t it. You killed Miss Kusanagi.

Shizuma: I couldn’t stand the thought of my dear sister marrying that man! As long I’d realised his true nature…

Shiki: …Shizuma-kun…

Shizuma: Even so…I didn’t think there would be another man with such an interest in flower language as I.

Shiki: Oh…actually, the one who knew was—

Sagishima: My master is well-versed in many subjects.

Shizuma: My one miscalculation…was your involvement, Shiki-san.

Shiki: What a shame…and here I thought we could have been good friends.

(ok pain. you know how in the original, shiki’s like “ooh too bad you can’t lend me more books bc you’re the murderer.” in the stage ver, shiki tries to give back the book shizu lent him earlier on, and shizu just quietly puts a hand up like ‘no, keep it,’ and shiki looks so. pained. i hate it here.)

Sagishima: The detective is waiting outside.

Sagishima: Master Kusanagi, she was quietly stabbed from the front. There was no sign of struggle.

Shizuma: And what of it?

Sagishima: Perhaps Miss Kusanagi chose death at the hands of her beloved brother rather than be married to a man she did not wish to wed.

Shizuma: …thank you, butler.

Shiki: From the front…? Struggle…? I haven’t the slightest clue what any of this could mean. (sagi attempts to give him a hug) What is it?!

Sagishima: As expected from you, Master Shiki. You are—ah, never mind.

Shiki: …it was windy that day too, wasn’t it.

Sagishima: Are you all right?

Shiki: Why do you ask?

Sagishima: I think you might have been more upset about this case than...ah. Forgive my impertinence.

Shiki: Was that…concern? How revolting. What on earth are you thinking?

Sagishima: Only that…perhaps I am fonder of you than I had thought.

Shiki: …what a strange fellow.

[winter telepathic convo time part 4!]

Hisoka: (Didn’t need that adlib at the end.)

Homare: (I thought it would be alright to include our true feelings for once!)

Hisoka: (I didn’t want more lines.)

Homare: (But I’ve understood! I care for you more than I had thought!)

Hisoka: (I don’t really like you that much.)

(another thing i wanna point out: as shizu is getting taken away (at the second level of the stage), kusanagisis appears at the back of the stage, and he tries to approach her, but is led offstage by keiji. meanwhile shiki is staring up at him in pain. i die.)

then it just goes into es no yuuutsu here. i’m gonna put it anyway so u can read along and still suffer. eng tl from here ofc

Sagishima The worn out, sad love that

Shiki Aah, brought us two conspirators together

Sagishima, Shiki Has now become, the gentlest of dreams

Sagishima The exposed and scattered truth

Shiki All that remains are the footprints left behind

Sagishima Quietly

Shiki Telling the tale

Sagishima, Shiki With words of melancholy

Sagishima As if scorning everything

Shiki The eerily shining

Sagishima, Shiki Heat haze glimmers At least I will end it all for you By my very own hand Farewell, aah, sweet cruelty.

#mankai stage #winter 2020 #winter troupe #arisugawa homare #mikage hisoka #yukishiro azuma #tsukioka tsumugi #takato tasuku #tanaka ryousei #ueda keisuke #ueda kandai #aramaki yoshihiko #kitazono ryo #november translations #a3

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helpmegoddamnit · 4 years

Text

...𝕬𝖓𝖉 𝕵𝖚𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖈𝖊 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖆𝖑𝖑

I watched her pace around the room, the clack of her heeled boots deafening compared to the sly whispers of those in the jury. She was unsatisfied with her ability to convince these men of the boy’s innocence, her look was a dead giveaway to such a factor.

That was how I knew something interesting was about to happen.

Koseina made her stop by a middle-aged man who sat among the jury, his hair fading to grey and his eyes hard and harsh, as though he had seen the hate of this world at its finest, though I doubted such from his fancy attire.

“…Judging by the sour face you’re making at me, I take it you still believe the boy is guilty,” she guessed, the man shuffling in his chair to adjust his posture as he nodded. “I do,” he replied gruffly, his arms crossed tightly as though the mere action of loosening them would result in his chest cavity falling out. “Right, I see,” she sighed, taking her thick-framed spectacles from her nose and cleaning the lenses, “if it’s not too much trouble, would you mind taking a look through my spectacles?”

Her slender fingers grasped the arms of her glasses as she held them out before herself and the man. He eyes her suspiciously, but took them anyways and held them close enough to his eyes that he could see through the lenses.

“Can you see through them clearly?” She asked, the man shaking his head as he handed them back to her. “No,” he grunted, the woman exhaling a scoff as she took them back and placed them comfortably on her nose once more. “Hm, consider that as what you see when it comes to this case. Your vision is clouded by unmitigated prejudice, you’re an ignorant man with a mind so plagued with bias that you have the inability to see through the lenses of truth. The lenses of justice,” she lectured, turning her back to the man so she wouldn’t have to see how much offense she caused him as her heels began clacking once more, “As dramatic as I make that sound, and as farcical as you may make me out to be, I speak only the truth, I wouldn’t dare even utter an untrue word to anyone in this room.”

She stopped momentarily, her icy stare landing itself on the judge who sat before all of us – above us, as a superior force. After all, he was the one who directed this, though he wasn’t the one who held the young man’s life in his hands. His life was for the jurors to decide.

“I am no falsifier, nor am I lady Justice for that matter. However, I wouldn’t have bothered taking up this job if I didn’t believe in a fair and honest trial, if I didn’t think a boy from the slum’s life was as valuable as my own,” her speech came across as a seethe, as if she had to tell the man as though the statement wasn’t obvious, as if it were normal to join the area of law without a sense of justice.

With a sharp, yet gentle turn, Koseina found herself facing the jury once more. I could tell by the silently fiery look in her eyes that she was preparing for a final blow.

“I look into you twelve men as if you’re making a decision which will determine the fate of our world. I beg of you, see to it that this young man is judged correctly and that he lives a better life than the one he lived prior to this after this is all finished,” she began, pacing toward the set of gentlemen again, “Make certainly sure that you examine the evidence with precision. Do not, allow bias to become a factor in deciding the boy’s fate.” Her pace came to an end in front of the jury, and since she was standing with her side facing the men, she only moved her head to the side so that she could see them in her line of vision. “Prejudicial postulations obscure what is the honorable truth. And as Lady Justice would say if she was more than just a figure of stone…”

This was it. The final blow. It was sure to be like the cat of nine tails, a harsh lash across the back that was sure to leave a red mark and a bruise.

“…And justice for all.”

Clack, clack, clack.

The woman took her seat before the judge once more, her expression as though nothing at all had happened within the walls of this court. Though the way everyone else’s features were contorted in the room told a story far different to what was presented by the cause herself.

God, this woman never ceased to amaze me.

Such passion, such ruthlessness, such sheer and absolute power.

Koseina Saiban Masayoshi. While the woman herself wasn’t of Japanese ethnicity, that was where she was born and raised halfway before she came to live in the UK, where her fair skin, icy blue eyes and white-blonde hair better suit the scenery. Her first two names quite literally translate from the words ‘fair trial’, while her last name is derived from the word Justice. I’m not sure if it was merely a coincidence, or if her parents had her life mapped out before her as she grew from a new maiden to finishing her schooling. But regardless – pardon my French – she was pretty fucking good at her job.

From the moment she began, she had all jurors called onto any case on their knees, begging for forgiveness for the fact that they had let bias and prejudice overcome their senses upon learning the surface factors of cases. I mean, I speak metaphorically, but in all honesty from their looks they might as well have been.

Just then, you as the reader got a peek at what a case that she’s put onto follows. The issue being investigated was that of a boy who was accused of murdering his father, and after being called onto the case and analyzing the evidence with absolute precision, as per usual, she came to the conclusion that he wasn’t, in fact, guilty. Her speeches were always so dramatic, as I assumed was to provoke a sense of realization that felt similar to that of being branded by a blazing hot rod of metal. I say assumed because I didn’t actually know the woman personally. I myself am actually just a journalist, and attending any court case she was called onto was more of my own personal investigation, after having been on the jury for the first time while she was the lawyer of a brittle old man who had been accused of murder. She proved otherwise, and I swear I was on the edge of my seat from the moment she began speaking. How I knew the personal information of hers that I spoke of? Research, I suppose you could say. I translated her name out of pure boredom, and found myself laughing as though I’d cracked an impossible puzzle when I read the results. The fact that she had lived in Japan in the earlier half of her life came from a news article I had read on her, after her first few cases in which all were successful in her favor. And while seen as an idol in my eyes, she was very much seen as a rival – an obstacle – in the eyes of those who worked in the same line of work as her, against her.

I’d imagine that you must be thinking, wow, she must be loaded. You aren’t wrong in such an observation, it’s common knowledge that lawyers can make up to $100,000 a year. But she doesn’t do the job for the money, that much is clear. You probably think I’m lying – that she’s lying, for that matter. Maybe she’s trying to bring out a lovable character in herself with such a lie. I can promise you, she doesn’t give a shit about how other people see her. The only thing that seemed to matter to her was justice for those who could not obtain it through their own means, and whether she was raised like that or it had become an automatic moral on her own whim would remain a mystery to me.

#my writing #random #random writing #metallica #12 angry men #twelve angry men #and justice for all #law #lawyer #writing prompt #original story #aesthetic

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shalebridge-cradle · 4 years

Text

Historical References in What Are You Going to Do With Your Life? Chapters 4-6

Chapter 4

Whoever is getting executed… would probably be better off at Tyburn, for all the indignity they will suffer. Tyburn was where the regular criminals got hanged, including the ringleaders of the Pilgrimage of Grace (see below). Tower Hill was the next step up (this is where George Boleyn, Thomas Cromwell and both Thomas and Edward Seymour were executed), then Tower Green, where Anne Boleyn and Katherine Howard were beheaded.

The song Anne sings (and is referenced in the opening notes) is called With Her Head Tucked Underneath Her Arm, written in 1934 and found here. The three queens referenced in the last verse are the same three that appear in this scene – Jane Seymour, Anne Boleyn, and Catherine Parr.

Anne Boleyn is trying hard not to reference all the people she saw tortured and killed while haunting the Tower, including her sister-in-law Jane Parker-Boleyn and her cousin Katherine Howard. And also likely bemoaning the fact she can’t play with Henry’s mace-gun.

Catherine’s attempted mugging is a reference to two things – her near-execution for heresy during her third marriage, and being held hostage by the Pilgrimage of Grace during her second (a rebellion against Henry’s break from the Catholic church – her husband at the time, John Neville, was a Catholic who wasn’t directly involved, and some participants attempted to force him to support their cause).

Catherine Parr was the first English queen to be Queen of both England and Ireland, following Henry’s adoption of the title of King of Ireland in 1542.

Chapter 5

Anne Boleyn was charged with adultery, treason and incest – but not witchcraft. Henry VIII, however, did claim he had been seduced into the marriage by ‘sortilege’, a French word meaning either ‘deception’ or ‘spells’.

Anna’s comment about Parr’s looks was recorded by Eustace Chapuys, Holy Roman ambassador to England. Cleves was quoted saying regarding the marriage, “Madam Parr is taking a great burden on herself”. She was right.

“When you started opening and closing that locket in front of me, it made me feel… angry. Is that what you want?” Henry gave Jane Seymour a locket with a miniature portrait of himself in it, which Jane started opening and closing in Queen Anne’s presence. Anne ripped the locket off of her with such force, she injured her hand in doing so.

Jane Seymour’s only reported involvement in her husband’s politics was in 1536, where she asked the king to pardon the participants of the Pilgrimage of Grace. The king refused, and supposedly reminded her of Boleyn’s fate should she go against him in the future.

‘Yea’ and ‘Nay’ were used concurrently with ‘Yes’ and ‘No’, but in different contexts. ‘Yea’ and ‘Nay’ were used for positively-phrased questions (“Will they go?” “Do you think he deserved it?”), with yea as confirmation and nay as contradiction.‘Yes’ and ‘No’ were for negatively-phrased questions (“Will they not go?” “Doesn’t that hurt?”), with no as confirmation and yes as a contradiction.

The false claims Anne makes about her personal appearance are most likely to be attributed to Nicholas Sander, a Catholic propagandist who was in exile during the reign of Elizabeth I. Her skeleton was exhumed during Queen Victoria’s reign – she was about 5’ 3”, and did not have a sixth finger on either hand.

Parr’s comments are in reference to The Six Wives of Henry VIII by Alison Weir. The assumption about Howard being an ‘empty-headed wanton’ is made on page 3.

Chapter 6

Boleyn was “going through some stuff” in the 1600s because Elizabeth I died in 1603. The events she makes reference to are the Great Plague of London, the Great Fire of London, and the English Civil War.

How is it that the country thought the best move was to decapitate the body politic? The ��body politic’ is a long-standing metaphor by which a state, society or church is compared to a biological organism (usually a human body). In a monarchy, the king was usually depicted as either the heart or the head of this body, the latter shown in this terrifying book cover.

Parr’s nightmare is reference to when her tomb was opened in 1782 by John Locust. He reports that the body was in good condition, than that the flesh on her arm was ‘white and moist’, and that he took a few locks of her hair before sealing her up again. The next time the coffin was opened, nothing was left but a skeleton.

Maria? I cannot see you. Do not leave me alone. Where are you? María de Salinas, Baroness Willoughby de Eresby and ‘Maria on the drums’, reportedly held Catherine of Aragon as she died, having forced her way into Kimbolton Castle to see her. Catherine Parr was reported to have learned Spanish after becoming queen, and so the language is translated.

Henry VIII’s last wife was young enough to be named after his first. Gross.

“What happened to Mary? Was she queen? Was she happy?” Queen? Yes. Happy? Hard no. Mary I was reported to have executed roughly 300 or so people during her reign. Even if we use the lower estimate of 50,000 people over 36 years, Henry VIII executed significantly more of his subjects per year (about 1400) than Mary did throughout her whole tenure as queen. It does not in any way excuse her actions (or the actions of monarchs before and after her), but the name ‘Bloody Mary’ likely comes from being on the wrong side of England’s conflict of faith.

The card game being played by Boleyn, Howard and von Kleve is Primero, which was popular in the Tudor period. You knock on the table and say “Vada” (Go) when you’re happy with your hand. If someone else has also knocked, you face off – the better hand wins.

‘The Cat Came Back’ is a comic song written in 1893 about a cat (colour varies depending on the version) that refuses to leave, despite what his reluctant owner does. I hate the song, but I like the pun.

The word beginning with ‘p’ that Howard was going to say was ‘poison’. There were rumours, also thrown around after the deaths of Catherine Parr and Edward VI, that Catherine of Aragon was poisoned. The black growth discovered on her heart during embalming wasn’t understood to be cancer at the time. This theory was mentioned by Christina of Denmark, one of Henry’s potential fourth wives and relative to Catherine of Aragon, as a reason she had no desire to marry Henry (amongst others). Boleyn refutes this potential cause of death; she, along with Henry, was a possible suspect.

(Side note: Christina of Denmark was pretty great. She reportedly struggled to keep a straight face while the English ambassador told her how gentle and kind Henry was, and supposedly said “If I had two heads, one should be at the King of England’s disposal”. She was out of the running pretty definitively, though not due to her ‘match with the Duke of Milan’ as per the show. He was dead as of 1535, and Christina was still a widow from 1537 to 1539, when Henry was pursuing her. She was married to the future Duke of Lorraine (Anne of Cleves’ old betrothed) in 1541.)

“…even though Boleyn will probably outplay me again.” I was researching whether or not Catherine of Aragon was reported to have played cards, and in doing so found many Etsy listings and one oil painting by a William Maw Egley. The line is a reference to both the events of the painting and Anne taking the position of queen from Catherine.

#the cradle will write #What Are You Going to Do With Your Life: Work

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