#presenting without comment or explanation | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lemonlover1110 · 2 months ago

Text

𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐅𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Sukuna

[Chapter 12] Reunion

← Previous Chapter - Story Masterlist

Pairing: Trueform!Sukuna x f!Reader

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi - Bluesky

You know why he’s doing this. He has wit. He wants you to get your mind off the fact that another woman is pregnant with his child. It’s not a fact that can be easily forgotten, but he played his cards just right. Maybe it’s that, or perhaps it’s the fact that you aren’t all that bothered by the revelation.

In the beginning you worried about your position, but he reassured you that nothing will happen to you. So now you’re just taking the opportunity to see your family, who you’ve so longed to see. Though you’ll admit, you’re nervous. You wonder how different they’ll see you after they see you in the position you’re in.

You’re much heavier and rounder than before– Not to gloss over the fact that you carry a monster’s babies. Will they be disgusted by you? Frightened? Or will they understand that you sacrificed yourself for their wellbeing?

Luckily, the worry doesn’t overshadow the excitement that flows through your body. You ask Hina to help you get ready, attempting to look the best that you can today. But you’re also mindful, refusing to wear any jewelry that shows off just how much wealth is in your possession.

“Why aren’t they allowed in the palace?” You ask as Hina fixes your clothes. She smooths out any wrinkles visible in the clot, ensuring you look your best for the visit.

“King Sukuna doesn’t like peasants that have nothing to offer in the palace.” Hina answers without hesitation, and you almost laugh. You could’ve guessed as much. “Isn’t it nice, my queen? Being able to travel outside the palace?”

“It is. I’m surprised Sukuna allowed it.” You comment, and she can’t do anything but hum in response. She doesn’t have an explanation for that. “I’m assuming I won’t be alone.”

“You’re never alone, my queen.” She responds, which aren’t the words you want to hear. Regardless, you’re excited to be outside of the palace for a couple of hours– Actually outside the walls, not just strolling through the garden.

“We’ll take gifts, no? To make sure they’re well taken care of.” You suggest, as Hina finishes up.

“Yes. They’re all in the carriage.” She informs you. Sukuna has ensured everything is perfect for today while he… You have no idea what he’s doing. He’s probably figuring out how to take care of her, and you try not to think about it.

You try not to think about it because an ugly feeling seeps into your veins, and you don’t want to feel it. You can’t quite describe it, but it’s close to jealousy. But you wouldn’t call it jealousy.

“Do you think they’ll view me differently?” You question, your hand going over your bump. You already know the answer. One way or another, they’ll think of you differently.

“You’re a queen now, of course they do.” She says, which isn’t what you need to hear. But she’s right. “However, if you want me to say no, then I’ll say no.”

“No, you’re right.” You sigh. “Whether I like it or not, I’m someone different now.”

“Are you taking Yuuji with you?” She slightly changes the topic, wanting to cheer you up. The mention of the baby makes you smile, and you end up humming in response. You can’t leave him behind while you’re meeting your family, after all, he’s an essential part of your life now. “I’ll tell the servants to get him ready then.”

Needless to say, Sukuna’s presence is still present even when you’re in the carriage. You’re accompanied by three other servants, one of them being Hina. You wanted to be alone with your family, but it’s obviously impossible. You can’t complain though, this is more than what you could’ve asked for.

“Can we get out of the carriage before we enter the village? I don’t want to draw attention.” You ask, and Hina laughs. She can’t wrap her head around the fact that you don’t want the people of your village to know of your wealth.

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible.” Hina responds, making you sigh. Maybe it’s for the best. Your feet are too swollen to walk and you’re carrying a baby that’s months old. The news of you coming back to the village will soar either way, there’s no point in not trying to draw attention to you.

“How will you introduce him?” Hina asks, watching as you bounce the baby to keep him calm in the carriage. You smile at the baby who chews on his hands, attempting to soothe the pain in his gums.

“My son.” You answer, hand caressing his chubby cheek. He’s gained a lot of weight in your care, which is relieving to see– You can only hope that your Haru has gained as much weight as Yuuji.

The rest of the ride is quiet. You feel your heartbeat grow faster, excitement flourishing with the thought that you’re back home. It’s a shame that this is what it took, regardless, you’re happy to be back home.

The carriage comes to a halt, and the door opens. Your eyes fall on the small shack that your family lives in, and your eyes well up with tears. This is it. You’re finally home.

“I’ll take the baby, my queen.” Hina holds out her arms to take Yuuji from you, and you don’t hesitate before doing so. You need all the balance and support possible before getting out, a task that’s difficult given your current state.

You safely get out, almost having to catch your breath at the simple task. The twins have gotten too heavy, you don’t even want to imagine how hard it’s going to be on you the next couple of weeks. It almost makes you wish for them to come faster… But then you remember the huge responsibility that comes with that, and the pain in your lower back doesn’t seem as bad.

“What’s all the commo–” The door to the house opens, your aunt stopping in her tracks when she sees you. Your eyes well up with tears at the sight of her, and a subtle smile coming to your face. You imagined this emotional moment where you would jump into her arms and hug her until your arms couldn’t hold any more, but you can’t bring yourself to even shuffle your feet.

She smiles, walking over to you and cupping your face. She holds back the same tears as you do before she engulfs you in a hug. You hear her whisper, “I’m so happy to see you’re okay, my dear.”

“I’ve missed you.” You murmur as you hug her back. And for the longest moment you hold her, just as you imagined; until the cries from Yuuji cut the moment short.

“And who is this?” She asks when she pulls away, eyes falling on Yuuji. You take the baby from Hina’s arms, bouncing him before you tell her,

“My son.” Which she furrows her brows to. Before she can ask any questions you tell her, “He was… Abandoned, and I took him under my care.”

“And your babies. How are you doing?” She questions, hands going to your bump. Now you’re the confused one at her words.

“How do you–” You begin, and she lets out a sigh.

“We’ve gotten some updates from the deity. Before your condition he would often come with goods, but then you became with child and he’d send a servant whenever he could.” She explains, a small detail that Sukuna never mentioned. Something you can’t be mad about.

“How about Haru? Where is he?” You ask, eyes attempting to look inside to find him, but your narrow view provides nothing.

“Come inside, you can’t be out in the cold like this.” She tells you, even though you have countless layers keeping you warm. You hum in response, following behind her. You worry if everyone will fit inside considering how many servants accompany you.

“Haru! Won’t you come greet your older sister?!” Your aunt shouts as you make your way inside, and you feel your heart race. You pass Yuuji back to Hina, getting ready to hug your little brother.

“Huh?” You hear his confused little voice, the biggest smile coming to your face. Not too long ago that response would’ve taken every last bit of his energy. You walk inside the home, and you watch as your little brother’s eyes widen in amazement.

“Haru.” You smile at him, the tears that have welled up in your eyes managing to spill. The first thing you notice is that his cheeks are chubby again. He’s taller. He’s smiling. He has color again. Life has been brought back to his body.

He yells your name as he runs over to you, hugging you as tight as he can. His arms can’t hug much considering you’re much rounder. Any other time you’d pick him up and spin him around, but he’s too heavy to pick up right now.

“How are you, Haru? It’s been a while.” You ask him, leaning down to kiss the top of his head.

“I’m fine!” He answers, pulling away from the hug. His eyes stare at your belly before he looks up at you. He can’t help but comment, “You’re big.”

You chuckle. “I am carrying twins.”

“Twins?” He asks, shocked at your words, and you hum in response. Though the amazement fades as his interest shifts, noticing that he’s not the youngest in the room. He points at the baby that Hina holds and asks, “Who’s that?”

“My son.” You respond, and the amazement takes over again.

“You have a whole baby?” He questions and you laugh before nodding in response. Maybe you’ll explain it to him when he’s a little older, but now you’ll just go with that thought. “And you’re having two more?”

“Yeah, it’s about to be a full house soon.” You answer, and Haru’s eyebrows come together.

“Is that why you don’t come around?” He pouts, and you can’t help but share the same reaction as him. If it were up to you, he’d be by your side always.

“You know the deity explained this to us, Haru.” Your aunt steps in, not wanting the cheerful moment to dull down. “We should be glad that she’s here.”

“Fine.” He huffs and puffs. “Glad you’re here, I guess.”

“Now don’t get an attitude with me.” You attempt to be serious, but you can’t help but have a lighthearted tone. You just got back home, you can’t start scolding him just yet.

He sticks his tongue out and blows a raspberry, making you roll your eyes. A laugh follows quickly after, realizing that you’re finally home. You’ll be gone soon, but that doesn’t matter. You’ll make sure that you enjoy every last second in your home.

“If you get an attitude then I won’t give you the gifts I brought with me.” You tell him, and his ears perk up.

“What did you bring?” His tone becomes more cheerful, making you laugh.

“What didn’t I bring?” You respond, and you look back at the servants that have accompanied you. You don’t have to speak, they already know that you want them to bring everything in.

Haru hugs you again and tells you, “I’m happy you’re back.”

“I’m happy to be back.” Your hand ruffles his hair, feeling a tug in your heartstrings at the sheer reminder that you’ll be gone just as quickly.

“Why don’t you take a seat, dear? Your feet must be killing you.” Your aunt speaks up, and you laugh. She read your mind. “You look like you’re about to pop any day soon.”

“I’m due in the spring.” You answer, taking up on her offer and taking a seat.

“Spring is just around the corner.” She points out, and you sigh. That’s the last thing you want to think about.

“How about you guys? I hope things have been good in my absence.” You change the topic, though you already know the answer. Your aunt told you all you needed to know about their situation. Sukuna has kept them well.

“With the deity coming around, things have been flourishing.” She tells you, and you sheepishly smile. You’re happy knowing that your sacrifice was worth it. Not only is your Haru doing great, but they’re seeing abundance at a rate that your family has never been able to achieve. “And you, my dear? How are things with the deity?”

“They’re… Good.” You say, not wanting to explain the ups and downs of your life with Sukuna. You certainly don’t want to confess the ruckus that your life is in right now.

“What’s the name of your baby?” Haru asks as he sits down beside you. He cuddles up next to you and you welcome him with open arms.

“Hina, please take a seat.” You tell her, noticing that she stands still as she holds the baby. You watch her sit down before you turn your attention to Haru, “His name is Yuuji.”

“Why is he trying to eat his hand?” He then questions as he watches the baby shove his hand in his mouth.

“His little teeth are coming out, and it hurts.” You explain, and Haru furrows his brows.

“Your baby’s weird.” Haru responds, making you giggle. You shouldn’t laugh, but you can’t help it.

You pinch his cheek before pointing out, “You were just like that too. You were a big crier too!”

“Nuh-uh!” He yells, and you squint your eyes.

“What do you mean nuh-uh?! You were a baby, and I was the one taking care of you!” You scold him, and he sticks his tongue out at you. You lightly hit him in the back of his head for his reaction, making him whine in response.

No matter how big the age gap, he’s still your sibling. The arguing won’t stop, no matter how big or small he is– You wonder if that’s how the twins will be with Yuuji. You hope it is.

It hurts when you have to go your separate ways. It takes everything in you to not cry when Haru bursts into tears. You try to reassure him that you’ll see him again soon, though you’re not sure. You’ll make sure you see him again, even if it’s the last thing you do. The thing is that you know it won’t happen until after you give birth to the twins.

The ride back home is quiet. Yuuji sleeps and you try to hold back the tears to not… You can’t even think of the reasoning. Maybe Sukuna is rubbing off on you. You don’t want to look weak in front of Hina.

The sun has set when you get back to the palace, and while it’s typically quiet during this time, there’s over twenty servants around. You don’t pay attention to it until you reach your room and notice a woman scrubbing the floor.

“Hina, bathe Yuuji and bring him back to me.” You order, and the woman hums in response before quietly exiting. You stare at the servant that diligently does her task, and you ask, “Where’s Sukuna?”

“My queen!” She yelps before bowing down to you. You almost roll your eyes, but you shouldn’t. You should be used to this treatment by now. “I don’t know where King Sukuna is.”

“What are you doing?” You ask.

“King Sukuna ordered for the palace to be scrubbed down before your arrival.” She answers, and you hum in response. That doesn’t answer a thing, if anything, your curiosity is piqued.

“Right. Carry on then.” You tell her before entering your room. You try not to think too much about it, perhaps he just wants to prepare for the birth of the twins. However, that’s in spring and it’s going to be a while. The palace will be dirty again by the time it happens.

“How was it? Are you happy now?” You’re spooked by him, too lost in your own thoughts to register his heavy footsteps. Oddly enough, Sukuna’s hands hug you from behind, bringing you into his embrace.

“Why are people scrubbing down the palace?” You don’t even bother answering his question. You don’t even have to look at him to know that he’s rolled his eyes at your lack of manners.

“Why must you know? Can’t I have my place clean?” He responds, making you turn around and face him. You furrow your brows, crossing your arms to let him know that you’re displeased by his answer. He finds it cute as he looks down at you– Oh, you really think you’re intimidating like this when you’re simply tiny compared to him.

“What are you hiding?” You ask.

“Just told them to clean up everything so you wouldn’t see a drop of blood.” He ends up saying, and you furrow your brows. There’s a servant in every corner of the palace, so it definitely wasn’t anything pretty.

You should be squeamish by his response, but at this point you’re used to his antics. As horrid as it is to say. You can’t particularly be mad either since… You have a feeling that you know what he was doing.

“Must have been a massacre then.” You comment, and he’s about to nod in agreement, but he won’t. You’re still a soft little thing, even if you’re tougher than when he first met you.

“You haven’t answered my question.” He points out, and you sigh.

“When can I see him again?” You ask, a question that tells him all he needs to know. He knew this would happen which is why he didn’t want to let you go out, but he had to allow it.

“I don’t understand your attachment to that insolent human.” He scoffs a comment that he regrets making the moment he looks down at you and sees tears welling up in your eyes. He sighs before saying, “I guess after the twins are here.”

“They’re my family too.” You end up saying, wrapping your arms around his large figure. It’s an action that takes him by surprise; certainly something that he can’t complain about. He hears a sniffle, and he tries to comfort you to the best of his ability. “I miss them.”

“What? So do you expect me to bring them here?” He tries to joke, a concept foreign to the being. He even lets out a scruffy laugh to get his point across, but you look up at him with teary, yet hopeful eyes. He immediately tells you, “Oh no. Absolutely not.”

#[bonds of fruition]#ryoumen sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #sukuna ryomen #jjk sukuna #sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #sukuna jjk #sukuna x you #sukuna jujutsu kaisen #sukuna x y/n #jujutsu sukuna #jujutsu kaisen sukuna

624 notes · View notes

cairoblair · 2 months ago

Text

LADS men and their red flags

(a/n: this is my opinion of the LADS men’s red flags in a relationship based on my understanding of their characters and their dynamics with MC)

Rafayel

Manipulation

I think Rafayel would have a tendency to guilt-trip through passive aggressive comments. When he’s upset, you might get the cold shoulder, but more often than not he’s making a snide comment about the situation or about something you said. He’ll do this until you finally make up, and he’ll apologize for his actions, but that won’t stop him from doing it again.

Xavier

Jealousy

Xavier simply can’t stand seeing you around other men. It doesn’t matter if they’re being completely platonic with you, it grinds his gears. He won’t necessarily start a fight over it - he tends to avoid conflict - but you’ll know. He’ll shoot the man a hard glare or pull you closer, or even blatantly interrupt your conversation to drag you away. He can’t stand the thought of any other man getting your attention. He’ll try to make it up to you when you get upset about it, but don’t expect him to change.

Zayne

Lack of Affection

Zayne is not very outwardly emotional, so getting affection from him can be difficult when it’s not just the two of you. In private, he has no problem with you being all over him. But, in public, especially around his colleagues, he almost seems like he’s ignoring you. He might leave his hand on your waist or leave his fingers intertwined with yours, but other than that, his attention seems to be anywhere but you. He’s trying though - he’s not used to being openly affectionate. (thanks astra.)

Sylus

Lack of Communication

Usually, Sylus can’t go very long without seeing you, or at least talking to you. But, when he has a business deal or a meeting to deal with, you may not hear from him for days on end. It’s complete radio silence - no calls, no texts, and not even a response to the various ways you’ve tried to reach him. He’ll suddenly pop back up with no explanation at all, as if nothing ever happened. He’s not secretive about his work necessarily, but the last thing he wants is you getting involved. In his mind, it’s better to keep you in the dark. He’ll be sure to spend plenty of time with you when he gets back, but you’ll never really know when he’s going to disappear again.

Caleb

Controlling

He can’t help it. It comes from a place of love, it really does, but he has a hand in every part of your life. He’s always tracking your location, monitoring who you’re spending time with or talking to, or behaving like a helicopter parent with a troublesome kid. Sometimes, he’ll change your schedule or delete something from your phone without your permission or knowledge, but in his mind, he’s only trying to protect you. Even when he’s away for work, he’s somehow able to be present in every aspect of your life. He knows you’re capable of taking care of yourself, but why would he let you when he can easily do it for you?

#love and deepspace #lads #lads caleb #lads sylus #lads rafayel #lads zayne #lads xavier #he’s a good man savannah #i love them anyway

435 notes · View notes

sweetheartsofpanem · 3 months ago

Text

Drunk Magic and Other Domestic Miracles

masterlist

i think haymitch would be suuuuuper sweet while he’s shit face drunk (he’s sweet in his own ways all the time, but he’s overtly sweet when wasted) and only when he’s that drunk so i based this off that lil headcanon i have of him and this request. i hope you guys like this:)

pairing(s): Haymitch Abernathy x Female!Reader

warnings: haymitch being drunk, haymitch makes a comment about strangulation but it’s nothing bad, this is kind of just cute intimacy lol

word count: 1.74k

He’s a mess when he’s sober, all sharp edges and muttered curses. But when the whiskey kicks in, he starts doing the impossible—braiding your hair, baking you pies, knitting sweaters with crooked little hearts. He says it doesn’t mean anything. You’re starting to realize it means everything.

You don’t even remember what you were talking about when it happened—something about booze, probably, or the vaguely alarming contents of his pantry. One second Haymitch was slouched sideways on your couch with a bottle hanging from two fingers, muttering half-formed insults about your concerns with his pantry, and the next he was suddenly behind you, all grumbly focus and clumsy determination.

“Hold still,” he slurred, already combing his fingers through your hair with shocking gentleness. “You’re all knots and chaos. Can’t concentrate with it lookin’ like a damn rat’s nest.”

You blinked. “What are you—?”

“Shh,” he whispered, like he was performing surgery. “Makin’ you presentable.”

And then he braided your hair.

Not just some pathetic attempt, either. A real braid. Tight and clean and even, tugged with practiced pressure and tied off with a hair tie—a hair tie, which you’re certain you didn’t give him and have absolutely no explanation for. Where did he get it? Why does he have it? The questions multiply, unanswered.

“There,” he said proudly, swaying just slightly as he surveyed his masterpiece. “Now you look like a girl who hasn’t been raised by wolves.”

You stared at him. “How the hell did you learn to do that?”

He shrugged, acting like he hadn’t just done something so out of the norm as he flopped back down onto the couch. “’S just rope made of hair. Braids are braids.”

You sat there, stunned, touching the braid like it might vanish if you weren’t careful. It was beautiful. Which was somehow the most confusing part.

“Haymitch?”

“Mm?”

“I’m terrified to say this, but… that was weirdly impressive.”

He smirked without opening his eyes. “I’m full of secrets, sugar.”

You blinked at the nickname. It’s not biting or sarcastic—it doesn’t carry the usual edge. Just something warm and unexpected in the drunken haze. You let it pass, unsure what to make of it, but somehow it stays with you longer than it should.

The braid’s perfect. He’s drunk. The world is upside down anyway.

A week later, you find yourself sitting at his kitchen table with damp hair and hopeful eyes, a comb in your hand.

“Can you do it again?” you ask, offering the comb like a peace treaty.

He squints at you like you’ve just asked him to solve a riddle using only mushrooms and spite. “Do what again?”

“The braid. From the other night.”

“What braid?”

“Haymitch,” you say slowly, “you braided my hair.”

He looks mildly offended. “No I didn’t.”

“You did. With a mystery hair tie that may or may not have come from another dimension.”

“That doesn’t sound like me.”

“It was you!”

After a long pause, he snatches the comb from your hand with exaggerated flair. “Fine. Move.”

You turn around, triumphant. That is, until two minutes later, when he growls in frustration.

“Why the hell is your hair so slippery? Is this sabotage?”

“It’s wet!”

“Feels like trick wire!”

He ends up tying your hair into what you can only describe as a deranged tumbleweed secured with a kitchen twist-tie. You stare at your reflection in the window and blink slowly.

“Beautiful,” you deadpan. “Like a noble shrub.”

He squints at it. “Looks fine.”

“You were surgical when you were drunk. Are you telling me liquor gives you hair-braiding superpowers?”

“Apparently.” He sounds offended by the fact. “Don’t ask me to explain it.”

“You’re like a fairy godmother who needs to be drunk to do magic.”

He grins at that, leaning back in his chair with smug satisfaction. “That’s right. You want a decent braid, you bring whiskey.”

A few hours later, he’s drunk again.

You find him in his living room, sprawled on the floor with his back against the couch like gravity gave up halfway through. The bottle is nearly empty. You weren’t even planning on going back over, but your hair’s still a little damp, and curiosity—or maybe something else—dragged you across the lawn.

He squints up at you like you might be a hallucination. “You came back,” he slurs.

“I live next door.”

“You came back,” he insists, like it’s a romantic gesture instead of you standing in your socks with a blanket over your shoulders.

Then he pats the floor between his spread legs with the kind of solemnity reserved for important ceremonies. “C’mere, sugar. Let me fix it. M’gonna make it right.”

“Fix what?” you ask, but you already know.

“The rat’s nest,” he mumbles. “Tried earlier. Failed. I failed you.” He looks devastated. “Twist-tie was not the answer.”

You almost choke trying not to laugh. “No, it really wasn’t.”

He holds his hand out for the comb you didn’t even realize you brought again. “Gimme another shot. I got the magic back.”

You hesitate only for a second before settling down on the floor between his legs, your legs stretched out in front of you, one arm resting casually on his knee. The contact is small, steadying—quietly intimate in a way neither of you acknowledge.

His fingers are clumsy at first, warm and wandering, but then something shifts. The same rhythm from before returns—steady, practiced. He hums to himself, off-key and tuneless, as he works. It shouldn’t feel comforting. But it absolutely does.

“Sorry ‘bout earlier,” he mumbles near your ear. “Didn’t mean to make you look like an angry bush.”

“You’re forgiven.”

“’Cause you’re sweet,” he mutters, tugging the braid just tight enough to ground you. “Sweet, sugar. Let me do right by your hair. Deserves better than me sober.”

You smile without meaning to, the corner of your mouth tugging up as his breath warms your neck.

When he ties off the braid—with the mystery hair tie again, of course—he leans his forehead against the back of your head for a second like he’s hit the emotional wall of drunken sincerity.

“There,” he murmurs, pleased. “Now you’re shiny again.”

You don’t know what that means. You don’t ask.

It’s a few weeks later when you learn he has another absurd drunk talent.

You weren’t expecting to see him that night—you were just coming by to return a book he lent to Katniss, because apparently even she has limits on how long she can tolerate his handwritten notes in the margins (“this guy’s an idiot,” “wow, murder again?”). You don’t knock. You never do anymore.

But you freeze halfway through the doorway.

Because Haymitch Abernathy—victor, drunk, emotionally stunted disaster of a man—is sitting on his couch with a half-empty bottle at his feet and a pair of knitting needles in his hands.

Knitting.

Knitting a sweater.

It’s light blue. There’s a tiny uneven heart on the sleeve. You know it’s a heart because you can see the failed first attempts in a little pile beside him, a lumpy collection of false starts that clearly pissed him off.

And he’s muttering to it like it’s got opinions.

“Been workin’ on it whenever I drink,” he slurs proudly, barely glancing up as you stare at him like your brain has short-circuited. “Was gonna be a scarf. But you’re cold all the time, so it… evolved.”

“You knit.”

“I drunk-knit,” he corrects, stabbing the needle through a loop like it insulted him. “Tried it sober once. Ended up stranglin’ myself with the yarn.”

You walk in slowly, in complete disbelief. “You’re making me a sweater.”

“Not just you. Made Peeta socks.” He scowls. “He doesn’t know. Gonna sneak ‘em into his drawer. Real covert-like.”

You honestly don’t know what’s more ridiculous: the fact that he’s doing it, or the fact that he’s actually good at it. The stitches are neat. Focused. Full of care he’d never admit to while sober. The little heart on the sleeve is uneven, but it means something. It feels like being seen through a haze of whiskey and grumbling affection.

“You’re a menace,” you say, sitting beside him, careful not to touch the project. “A drunk, secret-knitting menace.”

He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Better than fightin’. Or drinkin’ and fightin’. Or fightin’ the sweater.”

That one’s muttered under his breath. You don’t ask for details.

It spirals from there.

A few days later, you catch him in the kitchen making a pie from scratch at two in the morning, completely plastered and dusted in flour like he lost a fight with a snowstorm.

He turns slowly when he hears you in the doorway, one eye barely open. “S’for you,” he slurs. “Wanted you to have somethin’ warm in the morning. Don’t eat enough.”

“You’re making me a pie?”

He nods solemnly, like this is a sacred task. “Been practicin’ my crust technique. Had to drink three glasses just to get it right.”

He burns himself pulling it out of the oven, curses loudly, and then proudly presents you with a lopsided apple pie that somehow smells like it came from a professional bakery.

You can’t even mock him. You just eat it, silently stunned, while he watches with the wary expression of a man who put too much heart into something and doesn’t know how to ask if you liked it.

There’s no pattern to it.

Sometimes it’s a perfectly carved wooden bird on your porch step.

Sometimes it’s him fixing a squeaky cabinet hinge like it’s a goddamn life mission.

One morning you wake up to find your leaky roof patched with tar and spare sheet metal, and when you confront him, he just mumbles, “Was worried mold would start growing. Thought I’d… do somethin’ about it. Had to drink half a bottle first. For focus.”

You’ve never seen someone so functionally incompetent while sober and yet domestically gifted when plastered. It makes no sense. It breaks physics. You don’t understand it, and honestly, you’ve given up trying.

But one night, when he’s working on your sweater again, arms moving clumsily but steadily, he murmurs, “You always looked like you needed someone to take care of you a little.”

Then, after a pause, without looking at you: “Think I like tryin’. When I can.”

You don’t say anything. Just rest your head on his shoulder, watching the needles move, the yarn tug, the world settle into something oddly steady for once.

Haymitch Abernathy is a drunk, foul-mouthed, emotionally constipated man with hair-braiding hands, secret pie recipes, and a sweater in progress just for you.

And somehow, despite everything…

It feels right for him to be so soft.

609 notes · View notes

muxshwriting · 1 year ago

Text

good luck, babe

Anthony Bridgerton x reader

summary: your husband can't seem to move on from his previous fling, Siena || warnings: cheating, swearing, period typical sexism, pregnancy, arguing || word count: 1898 || masterlist

It was a marriage of convenience, you had accepted that. Viscount Anthony Bridgerton was in want of a wife and you were available, from a noble family, mild mannered, loved by his family and tolerable to Anthony himself. You hadn't tricked yourself into thinking there could be love in this marriage. You were there to be a dutiful Viscountess and give the Viscount as many children as he desired. That was your job, that was what you were made for.

There was one thing you had asked of your new husband on your wedding day: you preferred if he didn't go and see other women, but if he did, you didn't want to hear about it.

Anthony had nodded solemnly, agreeing that he wouldn't do that to you. He was a gentlemen, he cared for his wife and his future family. And he had kept your word. After returning for your honeymoon, there had been nights where your husband hadn't returned to your bed. Whether they were late nights in his study or late nights with another woman, you didn't know and you didn't want to know. He spoke nothing of these nights, greeting you with a warm smile as he sat down at the breakfast table, as if nothing was amiss.

Because nothing was. Nothing was, right?

Everything seemed to change when you were with child. Anthony had been ecstatic to learn he'd be a father and offered to do anything and everything for you. You had taken a deep breath and asked him a question. "Will you stop seeing her?"

You didn't need to say anything else for Anthony to know who you were talking about. "Y/N-"

"We're having a child Anthony. I'd like you home to actually be a family, not spending most nights of the week either in your study or at her house. I don't know who she is or if it's more than one girl but can you bring it to a stop, please?"

Anthony's eyes had softened at your explanation as he fervently promised to do better and to be yours. And he was... for a while. He cut back on late nights in his study, spending the darkness in bed with you. But slowly like the tide, he began to pull away, the late nights in his study grew more frequent. You spotted the candlelight under the door the majority of nights as you returned to your cold bedchamber.

He was simply busy, balancing books and handling affairs. In reality, he was handling a different kind of affair. It only took one offhanded comment by his brother Benedict for you to realise what had been happening.

"Do sing us an opera brother. I'm sure your songbird is teaching you a few tricks."

Present tense. she was teaching him, not taught. Your husband was fucking the opera singer. The candles had been a lie to keep you obedient and calm. You were not four months pregnant and Anthony couldn't stop himself from going back to her. It had taken all of your willpower not to slap him across the face after everything he promised you.

You held in your anger for four days, until the other Bridgerton siblings were out of the house. Then, it all snapped. You marched (as well as you could whilst pregnant) to his study, walked in without knocking and slammed the door shut behind you.

"Are you serious?"

Anthony laughed like nothing was wrong. "What do you mean?"

"You're not spending that many nights in your study." You accuse. "You're seeing her, aren't you? The opera singer?"

"Wha- What does it matter to you what I do with my time?" He said it so nonchalantly, as if it wasn't even a problem, like you were overreacting.

"You promised me!"

He rolled his eyes. "Siena's different. She-"

"She's not your wife!" You're practically screaming at him at this point, anger coursing through your veins. "I am!"

"Y/N, calm-"

"Don't you dare tell me to calm down. You promised me you were done. I'm carrying your child! It was the one thing I asked of you and you don't even have the decency to do that for me."

Anthony finally stood up. "I am a man. I do not have to obey your every request. I should not be confined."

"Confined?" You found his use of words ironic. "I have married into a family I do not know, to a man who dies not respect me. Not to mention, I am with child. If anyone is confined, it is me. And as you astutely pointed out, you are a man."

He stayed silent for a second as you continued.

"Do whatever you like Anthony. I could not possibly wish to confine you. Go and fuck Siena. In fact, fuck as many girls as you please but don't expect to come home to our bed at night. I'll have the housekeeper arrange separate bedchambers for us and when my child is born, I don't want you anywhere near me."

You turned on your heel and swiftly exited the study, refusing to give your husband another glance. Had you looked back, Anthony's face would have been a myriad of emotions. Some shock, some hurt, anger, but mainly pain.

He knew he'd been callous, taking all your affectionate for himself and giving none back. He left you in bed alone almost every night and betrayed your trust like it meant nothing to him when in truth, it meant a great deal. It was as you said, you were his wife. He was supposed to love you unconditionally, do anything for you. But it was also as you said, you were just his wife. He wasn't the husband he should have been, he wasn't treating you like his wife. He had made a terrible mistake.

Anthony thought he could end whatever was between him and Siena when you asked him too. For almost two months he cast her from his mind, avoiding the places they once frequented, the opera house, the back streets, even the club at times she would be there. But then he had unavoidable business at White's, exactly when Siena was there to entertain the Lords.

She had caught his eye from across the room and he was sucked into her orbit once more. But Anthony had also majorly fucked up. He had broken the one promise his wife had asked him to make. The one thing she had asked of him, he did not do. So he hid all the signs, stayed late in his office, complaining of account books and paperwork constantly. He would kiss you sweetly goodnight and sneak out of his own house to see his mistress.

Siena basked in his attention, his inability to stay away. She knew how to keep Anthony just where she wanted him. The two months without him were torture. No other Lord would treat her as well as Anthony, leaving her more and more money on her nightstand and holding her tightly into the night. So what about his wife, she was just his wife.

You ignored Anthony for days, eating your meals separately to him, at different times, in different places. Every time he would pass you in a hallway he would be met with a blank stare, an expressionless face and utter silence. He begged you to talk to him, to listen to him, to tell him how he could make it up to you but you said nothing. In your opinion, Anthony deserved none of your words. After all, so many of his had been lies.

"Anthony-" His mother was the one lecturing him, asking him why he wasn't with his wife. "You need to do better. This shouldn't have happened and now you need to fix it."

"But how?"

Violet stared at him. "You've broken her trust Anthony. I don't know what you can do to earn that back."

Anthony wasn't sure either but he would try anything until something stuck.

It began with flowers, elaborate bouquets at the dining table and in your room every single day. They were beautiful, filling the house with some much needed colour. Without thought, you found yourself adoring them, before remembering why they were there in the first place. After flowers came the small trinkets, your favourite desserts at dinner, some of Anthony's shirts appearing in your wardrobe because he knew they ere most comfortable for you and your bump.

All the while, Anthony is desperately trying to catch your eye, following you around the house like a moping puppy, begging you to talk to him. All the while, you refuse.

What hurt him most, however, was that you would talk to his siblings without issue, even while he was in the room. But the moment he contributed to the conversation, you returned to silence. It was agonizing, waiting for you to speak to him, knowing he had brought this upon himself, praying you would love him again.

He broke down into tears in his study one night, pushing his work onto the floor and planting his head in his hands as the tears flowed freely. You couldn't sleep, nothing was comfortable, it was too hot or too cold. A loud crash startles you. You push yourself out of bed, wrapping a robe around you tightly and making the slow and tedious journey down the stairs to investigate the noise.

As you reached the foyer, the sound of crying hit your ears. Anthony's crying, from his office. Your heart, which you had been trying so hard to rebuild and protect, broke all over again. Perhaps you had been too harsh on him? Perhaps he deserved you again? Perhaps...

You cracked the door open, Anthony didn't even notice the sound. You sipped inside the study, taking considerate steps towards him until you're stood behind him. His head turned suddenly as he realised someone was stood by him. He hurriedly wiped his eyes, holding back his sobs as he met your gaze.

"Anthony..." His name came out a whisper, the first word you'd spoken to him in days.

Your arms wrap around him, pulling him close to you, holding him tightly and never wanting to let him go. And in the safety of your arms, he completely breaks. His tears begin anew as he whispers apologies back to you. His sentences are nonsensical strings of words that don't really make sense but convey his profound apologies.

"Anthony-"

"My love, please. I'm begging for your forgiveness. I'll do anything, anything for you. Whatever you please, whatever you command. I'm yours." He pulled back from you, holding your hands within his and praying to you. You were his god now.

"Uh-"

He wouldn't let you speak until your forgave him, "I'll never go near the opera again, I swear. She's nothing compared to you. I want to be here for you, for our child. I want them to grow up surrounded by love, like I was. Please-"

You cut him off, diving forward to capture his lips in a kiss. It's salty but Anthony sinks into the kiss, finally holding you in his arms and pulling you even closer towards him. You pull back to breathe, ignoring Anthony's hurt eyes as you do. "I forgive you." You whisper. "But no late nights, alright? Just be with me."

"I'll be with you forever."

if you can't tell, I'm on a bridgerton high rn

#anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #muxshwriting #muxsh #bridgerton s3

1K notes · View notes

mayoi-inu · 1 month ago

Text

Surprise surprise, this translation is wrong

As many of you already know I’m in a crusade against bad translations. I see this panel going around very often but the translation makes me cringe so bad everytime. I'm sure many people are already aware of the mistranslation but I have never seen it explained anywhere so I decided to do it myself.

Disclaimer, English is not my native language.

Let’s start from the previous panel, because ✨context✨ The order is Japanese -- the fan translation I found -- and the official translation.

I will write down the literal, weird, almost word for word translation for comparison purposes:

判った　答える　答えるから近くに寄らないでくれる？連れだって歩いてると思われたくない

Understood I’ll answer. I’ll answer so, could you not come any closer? I don’t want it to look like we are walking together (I don’t want it be thought we are walking together)

はっ　心配すんな　俺もおもわれたくねえから

Ha, don’t worry. Because I don’t want it either (I also don’t want it be thought)

うふふ　気が合うねえ

ufufu ki ga au nee

Ok first explanation needed. First, the Japanese definition of ki ga au

気が合う -- 考え方や感じ方が通じ合う (kangaekata ya kanjikata ga tsuujiau)

way of thinking and feeling mutually understood.

"Ki" means mind, spirit, "au" means to meet. The English definition in many dictionaries and google is “to get along” and that’s what the fan translation uses (friendly reminder to ALWAYS use a monolingual dictionary once you reach a level high enough), but the "so well" comes from nowhere. The official translation uses "to see eye to eye". IMO it's more accurate in this context than to get along. But the “glad” also comes from nowhere.

Anyway, now you get the feeling of what it means. I think it's more like Dazai commenting how Chuuya shares with him the same feelings about the situation.

“fufu you agree, I see…”

そんな君が大好きだよ

sonna kimi ga daisuki dayo

And we got to the important part.

We have "sonna" that means “such”, “that kind of”. It's a spoken synonym of "sou iu" ("such, like that, that sort of"). As a pre-nominal adjective that goes with kimi, "sonna kimi" it means that you. It has a nuance of surprise when used in sentences like this.

And then "daisukidayo" that of course means I like so much, I love.

What does he loves? "sonna kimi", that is, a specific Chuuya, the Chuuya who is of the same mind that he is about not wanting people to think they were walking together. Or maybe simply the Chuuya that agrees with him, generally speaking.

In both translations the concept is all wrong. It’s presented as if loving Chuuya was the fact and Dazai was explaining the why. But in Japanese, Dazai is singling out the kind of Chuuya he likes/loves if you wish.

Now ask yourselves why specially the official translation chooses to make up the dialogue like that. I'm sure the translators knew enough Japanese to understand it correctly and I don't think it's a matter of cultural adaptation because it never justifies chaging the meaning. The correct answer is fanservice, sales and money 😭

If I had to translate it, I would say “oh I love/like so much that Chuuya!”.

It’s VERY in character for Dazai to say that. And the protest that follows is VERY in character for Chuuya.

うわ……やめろ！気色悪くて死ぬ！

Uwaa… stop it! It’s so disgusting I am going to die!

僕もだ

Me too.

Yes, Dazai sounds crestfallen.

This is getting too long, so my personal non-grammatical opinions under the cut

I have two, even three theories.

First case, Dazai was honest when he said that.

But he didn't register that's not something you go saying around like that, and he was hit with Chuuya's reaction. Because Chuuya had lived with other kids, so he understood social interactions. But Dazai didn't understand.

I've seen infinite analysis about Dazai and ND, mentall illnesses but not even one analyze this scene. So what if he really loved when Chuuya agreed with him, expressed it without any filters and recoiled when he was met with Chuuya's reaction and realized "that was not a normal thing to do". Remember the scene when he shoots the dead soldier? He seemed to be taking notes of what is and isn't normal. This option breaks my heart.

The criticism would be that what Dazai says doesn't sound so honest. This theory would fit better with the English translations but in Japanese he's very clearly informing Chuuya of the kind of Chuuya he likes, which is a twisted thing to say in any language. So maybe Chuuya's reaction is a response to both the nasty observation and the words chosen.

Second option, Dazai knew what he was doing

He used daisuki to provoke Chuuya, to mess with him and make him angry.

That's something 22!Dazai would do easily but I don't know if 15!Dazai was already so good at it. Anyway in this case the surprise would come from the genuine disgust in Chuuya's reaction instead of the expected anger. Chuuya is Chuuya, and he is immune to Dazai's manipulation schemes, except Dazai didn't know it yet. Also once he said it, daisuki was so cringe (and he was 15 😂). Absolutely in character for both of them.

Third option. Dazai said he wanted to make Chuuya his dog.

Dazai was a very messed up kid at that point. The first thing he thinks when he meets another (very powerful) boy his age is to dominate him and make him obbey his orders as his dog. The way he says that to Chuuya can sound very domineering, oh you agree, that's the Chuuya I love. That's a good boy 🐕. And then he felt down when Chuuya rejected that praise with disgust. In the manga it really looks like this option, with a very close and pushing Dazai and an uncomfortable looking Chuuya. I hate that vibe.

Or... possibly it's a bit of all three because after all, nobody knows what's in Dazai's mind 😌

#bsd #bsd translation #bungou stray dogs #bsd analysis #dazai chuuya 15 #bungo stray dogs

214 notes · View notes

kiame-sama · 9 months ago

Note

How do you think the characters react to mc having their period in the monster au. Cause it would make sense for other monster species to have them as well, but it could end up being a "human" thing to them. Like how would the love interests and the staff react. I imagine Malleus panicking the moment he smells blood on his human.

(More lovely fan-art~ Credit to the wonderful @tinseltina for drawing up Mr. Handsome Leona)

Humans are Extinct (Yandere!TWST x Fem!Reader) 9.5

Something tells me y'all really want to know the answer to this.

Warnings; not proofread (my stuff rarely is, but this is hot off the press), menstrual cycle and all that comes with it (mood swings, blood, cramps, ect), female pronouned reader, not too big on plot but several moments for the fellas, the stressed Dragon is trying his best, use of Japanese words (Nii-san, nee-san, Oji-san), Dragon, Crow, Harpy, Shinigami, Nemean Lion, Gnoll, Shadow-men, Cervitaur, Genie, Unicorn, Cecaelia, Vampire Bat,

~~~~~~~~

It was officially your eighth day in Twisted Wonderland and it was finally time for Diasomnia to take a step back and allow the other dorms to guard you. According to the raffle, it was to be Ignihyde's turn next. Both Idia and Ortho had shown up to the early morning meeting, Ortho still somewhat asleep as he sat leaning up against Idia's arm.

The other Housewardens were present and they had even remembered to invite Malleus this time as there was no other way the Dragon would give up his Human. Both Shinigami were anxious for different yet similar reasons as they waited for the inevitable arrival of the Dragon. Only problem was that Malleus showed up without the Human.

"What is the meaning of this, Malleus? Where is she?"

Vil was first to voice his concerns, one of the few among the Housewardens who would willingly snap at the dour prince. Malleus simply stared at the Harpy even as he squawked and fluffed his feathers in irritation. Of course, they all wanted to hear whatever explanation the Dragon was going to give for this clear violation of the rules they had set regarding soft (Y/n).

"I don't recall ever agreeing to this nonsense of trading my hoard among others, but if you must know, (Y/n) is currently unwell and I have no intention to leave any member of my hoard while they are in such a state."

"Unwell? How is she unwell? She was fine yesterday, if a bit temperamental."

Crowley was displeased by Malleus' refusal to bring the Human they all felt increasing fondness for, but he was more displeased to hear she was ill in some way. In fact, the news unsettled everyone at the table, Idia and Ortho included. They were all keen to keep (Y/n) in high spirits especially with news that there would be several representatives from various countries making surprise visits to check on her well-being.

"She is bleeding but insists it is normal for Humans. The scent of blood alerted me to her state as she rose before the rest of us and I found her in her bathroom crying. She refuses to leave her bathroom until she is able to aquire 'pads' to catch the blood and commented something about 'tampons'. I know not what these 'pads' and 'tampons' are, but even Lilia insists it is something Humans do on a monthly basis and warned me to not push her on this matter."

"If that Mousey is bleeding," Leona growled, "then she must be injured in some way."

"That was my thinking, but Lilia said I was wrong and that he would explain it later before he insisted I attend this meeting instead."

"What exactly has Lilia told you about (Y/n)'s condition?"

~•§•~

"I hate everything and everyone."

You grumbled as you lay curled up on a towel in your bathtub, holding your bloated stomach as you whined loudly when another cramp gripped you. The dull throbbing ache in your back made you want to throw something if it meant the discomfort would end. Your arm had healed quickly- still somewhat mending, but now useable- only for your period to smack you while you were down.

Of course these useless monsters didn't have pads or tampons or Midol and now you relegated yourself to laying on a towel so you don't bleed all over the shared nest. If you could have things your way, you would have as many sanitary products as you wished and you would be laying on Silver's back as the Reindeer was so comfortingly warm. It only made you angrier to remember that there were no heating-pads in this forsaken land.

"(Y/n)?"

"Let me die."

"Please don't talk that way, (Y/n). None of us want you to die."

"Then why aren't there any heating-pads or pain-meds, Lilia? Sounds like you all want me to suffer and die."

"(Y/n)-"

"Leave me to suffer."

"(Y/n)-"

"Go away, Lilia!"

The Bat sighed and closed the door, letting you wallow and whine in pain. He had been around Humans enough to vaguely remember what was wrong, but it had been a long time since he last had to deal with such a situation. Lilia didn't exactly remember the how and the why of your condition, just that it was normal for Humans. No, if anyone knew what was happening, it was you and you were not keen to share your wisdom.

While you were wallowing in self-pity you felt your stomach begin to growl and you just started crying again. None of these moron monsters knew how to cook and you just wanted a nice breakfast to soothe your upset body even if for only a bit. Somewhere during your tears the door to the bathroom had opened again and a delicious smell met your nose.

Walking into the room was the man wreathed in shadows, he set a cloth bag down next to the tub where you lay and stood for a moment watching you. You somewhat recognized him as one of the staff members Crowley had introduced you to the first day- you think his name was Sam- and even in the daylight he looked like liquid darkness. Apparently he was the only one who had a store on campus and he was the one to go to for any and all needs.

"Breakfast is ready downstairs, little Imp."

With that he left the bathroom and closed the door behind him, leaving you to examine what he brought. Inside the bag was a note and several items you thought you would never see in this forsaken world. What looked to be reusable cloth pads took up a good portion of the bag, clearly the kind that could be buttoned and wrapped around undergarments to act like your world's traditional sticky pads. Further down were what seemed to be several small bottles filled with star-shaped pills in various purples, oranges, pinks, and yellows. What almost made you start crying again was the sweet and heartbreakingly beautiful appearance of chocolate fudge in a medium sized tin.

That first bit of fudge melted on your tongue and brought the sugary sweetness of chocolate to your senses. It was like a slice of heaven had fallen into your mouth and you could hardly believe it.

The pads were similar to the disposable ones you had back in your world but with a button clasp along the wing of the pad so it could be secured. You were quick to change your clothes with the extra Lilia had brought you, securing the pad to your underwear and sighing in relief once it all was in place. Though you would have to wash these pads after you switched them out, it was better than nothing.

The note was simple and short, but you couldn't be happier to read the almost elegant script.

'Hey, little Imp. Thought you would need these, though not so soon. Unlike most in Twisted Wonderland, Shadow-folk and Humans were the few species where the child-bearing members have these bleeding cycles. My friends on the other side figured you would want some chocolate. The bottles have some bloating and pain medicine that should help. Only take one of each color twice a day. Chocolate isn't too common, but I think now is as good a time as any to share.

- Sam'

You could have cried it was so beautiful. To think there was someone here who wasn't completely oblivious to your suffering was soothing in ways you hadn't expected. If anything, Sam was now in the top spot for your favorite of the staff members, the others be damned.

As you finally got the chance to clean yourself up and wear clean clothes, you were now ready to emerge from the bathroom you spent most of the morning in. The warm smell of food brought you down to the kitchen and you saw a beautiful sight. Standing near what looked like an entire breakfast feast was Sam, he seemed to be guarding the food from the group that stood eyeing him suspiciously. Ruggie, your guards- minus Malleus- and Grim all stared at the shadow man who refused to let any near the copious amounts of food.

"Morning, little Imp! Figured you would want some breakfast given the morning you've had. Have as much as you like before I let these beasts eat the rest."

Sitting in large bowls and stacked on plates were an assortment of eggs, some kind of sweet smelling breakfast meat- as sausages weren't prevalent in Twisted Wonderland- pan-seared onions and peppers, even pancakes stacked high. It was a veritable feast for the eyes and stomach, the best part being the fact you didn't even have to make it.

"... You're my favorite, did you know that?"

"You honor me, little Imp. I know my sisters and mother would be sending me shadow curses if I didn't at least lend a hand during your time of struggle. Eat up."

You did exactly that as you gathered up a generous portion for yourself and settled at the small table in the kitchen to dig in. Once Sam saw you were happily eating your fair share, he grabbed his own plate before he moved to let the others descend on the food. Lilia was quick to join you and Sam at the small table, not at all put off by your earlier attitude towards him.

"So, Sam, do you know what's going on with (Y/n)?"

"Of course. We shadow people go through a similar process- I should say the ladies and child-bearers of the Shadow people know- I personally don't, but you can bet your ass my meemaw would whoop me something fierce if she found out I left this Human to endure alone when I could have helped."

"Guess there is no need for Malleus to be so distraught then."

You ignored the conversation and simply ate your meal, thrilled someone else knew how to cook a damn fine breakfast. Sebek, Silver, Ruggie, and Grim were content to eat at the kitchen counters instead of the small table, talking quietly to one another. Well, Ruggie and Grim were shoveling food down their gullets, Sebek and Silver were the ones talking.

It was during this conversation that you heard many footsteps thundering down the halls of your dorm to the kitchen. You gripped the fork in your hand tightly and the moment someone grabbed you was the moment you swung the fork to stab whoever dared to touch you. They were quick to let go and narrowly avoided your utensil as they backed off and you saw it was the Headmage.

"(Y/n), my poor little chick! Where are you bleeding-?"

"None of your business!"

Your voice was an angry grumble as you guarded the plate in front of you, putting an arm around it and glaring at the feathered man. He seemed confused before he looked over at Sam who had continued to eat calmly.

"Ah, I should have known you would already be on top of it, Sam. Shadow folk and Humans were two sides of a very similar coin, after all."

"Headmage, why did you bring all these students into her kitchen?"

You looked around and you saw many familiar faces as well as a few unfamiliar faces. Malleus, Vil, Ortho, Azul, Leona, and Riddle were of the familiar. Of the unfamiliar were two men of vastly different appearances. One had white hair and tanned skin, almost seeming to be shining from the inside with a bright gold. The other looked like an older, non-mechanical Ortho with extreme anxiety at even being perceived.

"Mr. Draconia informed us that (Y/n) was unwell and I couldn't keep them from coming with me to check on her-"

"Well, you all are done checking, now go away. I want to eat my breakfast in peace."

"(Y/n)-"

"No! I have had little to no personal space since the moment I fell into this madhouse of a campus and it shouldn't take me having my period to get some! If you all are really that concerned, I have a whole list of things I could only benefit from and you all are welcome to start gathering."

"... Would that make you happy?"

"It would be a start!"

It seemed all of your uninvited guests were uncomfortable as they looked at one another before the shining golden one nodded excitedly. Out of everyone, he seemed the most oblivious to your annoyance and instead seemed happy to be given something to do.

"Sure! What's on the list? I can get stuff for you! Say the word and Jamil and I are on it!"

"See? This is a model Housewarden right here. Doesn't push his own agenda, doesn't demand more information, just says 'okay' and does what is asked of him."

Vil seemed the most offended by this, but kept his thoughts to himself and instead just glared at the happy shining man. Malleus was also clearly displeased by your less than favorable attitude, moving to stand near Lilia as if that would curb your anger at the situation. Ortho seemed to be of the same mind as the first odd-ball and looked ready to run off for whatever you requested.

"Don't forget your medicine, (Y/n)."

Sam prompted gently, continuing his meal as if nothing were amis. Naturally, you had mostly forgotten the bottles of oddly colored stars in your frustration and only now remembered they were present. His note said one of each color twice a day, so you figured it was a morning and night kind of medication.

The stars were actually somewhat cute and you felt a vague temptation to sit and sort the stars by color, but your ever present cramps demanded you take them instead. They actually tasted sweet and must have had a sugar coating of some kind as they went down easily enough. Perhaps it was psychosomatic, but it felt like they were helping the moment you swallowed the odd shapes and felt far less irate even with the herd of others in your home.

"Nee-san, can I have that list you mentioned? You can send it to me via-text so Nii-san and I can get started on gathering things for you!"

"Nee-san?"

"Oh! Are we not close enough yet for me to call you that? Sorry! I just want to be your friend so much I keep forgetting we just met. Oji-san wants to meet you too since he hasn't been able to meet a living Human for a long time and he misses Humans. Would it be okay if he came over?"

It was then the one that looked like an older version of Ortho spoke, resting his hand on Ortho's shoulder.

"Ortho, stop. I get you wanna be her friend but it is so cringe to just invite people over to someone else's place when they aren't feeling well."

"Oh, I'm sorry! I just want everything to work out and Oji-san Hades has been texting non-stop about meeting (Y/n)..."

"We can talk about that later. Okay?"

You raised a single brow at the two- who you assumed to be brothers- as they had their back and forth banter. Somewhere you figured all the Housewardens in your dorm were there to help, but you were still annoyed they came over uninvited. Maybe they could be of use if you split up that growing list of yours and put the clearly eager men to work.

"If I give you all the list will you go away?"

"No," Malleus said, crossing his arms, "I must protect my hoard and if a member of my hoard is unwell, then I shall stand guard until they are well again."

"Fine. You can stay, but I just want a quiet day today. I don't have classes and I just want to sleep."

"You are always welcome to the nest."

"Wasn't asking permission, but thanks, I guess. I also want Silver to be in the nest because he's warm and it feels nice to have heat on my stomach."

"Silver has clases today, but I am free for the day. I can use my magic to warm your stomach so you can rest easy."

"Fine, but if you burn me I'm kicking you out of my dorm permanently."

#kiame-sama #yandere #x reader #yandere x reader #reader insert #tw yandere

457 notes · View notes

yzzart · 2 years ago

Text

a revelation between songs.

pairing: tom blyth x actress!reader.

summary: you, Tom and Rachel had an idea to create playlists for your characters.

word count: 593!

notes: inspired by an interview where Rachel says that she and Tom created playlists for their characters, and i recommend the song i mentioned because i was listening to it while writing!

"Well, i heard that you created playlists for your respective characters…" — The interviewer, who was incredibly dynamic, commented. — "… and it's true?"

"Oh yeah!" — Rachel responded with an enthusiastic smile and nodding her head, wanting to complement and talk about the topic presented. — "We created our playlist during the first few days of recording, right?" — She asked, resting one of her hands on her chin.

"Right!" — You replied with a complicity smile. — "We were so excited about the idea, that we didn't even wait for the opening day." — And it was a suggestion that brought you all closer together and created in your minds what the characters' musical tastes would be.

And to this day none of you have finished them because every day you add a new song.

"Exactly!" — Rachel concluded. — "I think it's technically impossible to choose one but "Hunter" by Florence + The machine is addictive and very good." — The interviewer nodded in agreement and paid attention to every word.

"One of the first songs i added to my playlist was "Do you love" by machineheart." — You tilted your head to wonder if it was correct. — "Yeah, she was one of the first and she became my favorite." — The interviewer agrees, crossing her legs and eager for an explanation. — "I feel like the lyrics clarify my character's emotions."

"I'm pretty sure i have it on my playlist too." — Tom stuttered thoughtfully and resting his arm on the back of the chair accompanied by a complicity look in his direction. — "Like, seriously." — He laughed.

"Do not tell me!" — You pretended to be surprised and finding the coincidence incredible, and trying, as much as possible and with all your strength, not to laugh at the situation.

Meanwhile, the interviewer found it funny, even without understanding and believing in the possible and concrete coincidence, and Rachel looked at the two of you with her mouth open. — Knowing, deep down, that it was a joke.

"They spent the entire recording session listening to each other's playlists." — She revealed, laughing, putting her hand over her mouth. — "Every time i went to Spotify, with that function to see the songs your friends were listening to, i saw Tom listening to Y/n's playlist and she listening to his playlist."

"No way!" — The interviewer joined.

"I swear!" — Rachel exclaimed; the only thing you did, seeing that you had no way to justify or defend yourself, was to put your hand over your mouth and Tom placed one of his hands on your thigh.

Rachel wasn't lying or exaggerating; since the beginning of the recordings along with the idea of playlists, there was no other playlist, not even the ones you created, that you listened to the most besides Tom's. — There were so many songs with the presence of the small and typical green heart. — At any time, anywhere, you listened to that playlist; like Tom did with you.

Tom would share photos, screenshots with your playlist or any of the songs included in it in the background for you. — Tom even listened to them while driving his motorcycle.

"I strongly consider it a love language." — The British accent echoed confidently throughout the decorated room, his hand was still on your thigh and now making a pleasant caress. — His eyes admired your radiant smile.

You hugged his clothed arm and rested his head, gently and gently, on his shoulder; a wave of comfort and protection entered your belly. — Quickly, Tom rested his head on your.

"Very romantic, very romantic." — You said, laughing softly and with red cheeks, a little embarrassed.

#tom blyth #tom blyth x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus #snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus imagine #the hunger games #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games the ballad of songbirds & snakes #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #ballad of songbirds and snakes

2K notes · View notes

bakuhatsufallinlove · 4 months ago

Text

here’s the OTHER leaker translation I would explode out of existence

listen.

I know, okay?

I know everyone loves this. I know everyone lost their shit for it. But I hate it.

I will admit honestly that it is 70% abject fury over the misuse of one word. Another 20% is frustration over how the fandom reacted to the official translation with such vitriol and how the leaker fueled it with their smug comments. That final 10% amounts to what some might consider pedantic or nitpicky. But I don't care.

This translation sucks. It doesn't sound cool, it doesn't sound threatening, and the leaker's rookie mistakes ruin what makes this moment great for me.

Allow me to elaborate.

The emphasis is on the wrong part

I’ve talked about some of the pronoun differences in this line before, but did you know Katsuki also changes the particles every time?

‘Cause I sure don’t think the leaker noticed. Grammar particles are what determine the relationship between words in a sentence. They pack a lot of punch, denoting subject, object, indirect object, purpose, location, time, origin point, direction of movement, means or method—and a bunch more shit that can be hard to describe.

Word order and particles work together to direct our attention to specific parts of a sentence, emphasizing the importance of what is being said. They are some of the most difficult parts of Japanese for learners to grasp and use with the same ease that native speakers do. I’m acutely aware of this weakness, so I often pay particular attention to them. Let’s break down how each iteration shifts the meaning and emphasis of the base sentence.

First time

Chapter 322 おまえが拭えねぇもんは俺たちが拭う omae ga nuguenee mon wa oretachi ga nuguu

Katsuki uses ga with both the second person pronoun for Izuku and the first person plural pronoun for himself and Class 1-A. Ga emphasizes the word that comes directly before it, so this focuses not on the verb itself, but the persons doing the verb. Katsuki's first person plural pronoun oretachi of course means "we," but if you wanted to highlight his literal meaning, he's saying: "the things you cannot handle, me and the people with me will handle."

Second time

Chapter 323 てめーが拭えねーもんはこっちで拭う temee ga nuguenee mon wa kocchi de nuguu

Here, Katsuki retains ga for Izuku’s second person pronoun, but changes both his first person pronoun and its particle, giving us kocchi de. This shifts the implication of who is doing the act—the first time, Katsuki's "we" pronoun highlighted the classmates who accompanied him and acted with him to help save Izuku. But by the time he says this line again, a number of people outside their class have stepped forward to defend Izuku’s return to UA.

Unlike distinctly singular pronouns like ore, kocchi both refers to oneself and something greater than oneself. By switching to this, Katsuki expands that narrow “me and the people with me” into “our side,” presenting the people who support Izuku as a unified force.

You see, kocchi de subtly shifts the verb to being executed by subject(s) defined by a specific characteristic or condition.

Explanations of particle de from Mainichi Nonbiri. The heading and explanation read, "Subject: 'De' is used to denote the subject who deals with or engages in the action expressed by the predicate."

The first example uses jibun de (by oneself) to describe the conditions under which the listener is asked to execute the verb. The third uses gikai de (in the parliament or by the parliament, as a governing body representing many people) to explain the plurality and nature of the subject executing the verb.

The second example uses socchi de, which is the second person "you" version of kocchi, meaning your side. With this, you can see the purpose is to highlight division: "you did that over there on your side of things without any input from me."

Kocchi de as Katsuki uses it likewise creates "sides" by highlighting connection.

These details emphasize Izuku as the person who cannot handle these things and the relationship he has with the people supporting him, a collective Katsuki aligns himself with.

If we maintain this emphasis and the conditions in a literal way, we have: "The things you cannot handle, our side will handle for you."

Third time

Chapter 405 OFA(あいつ)に拭えねーもんはこっちで拭うってなあぁああ！！！ OFA (aitsu) ni nuguenee mon wa kocchi de nuguutte naaaa!!!

I want you to look really close at the particle ni.

Then look at the way the first word balloon ends with the particle wa.

And hear me when I say that this does not emphasize Izuku.

Ni is not a particle for emphasis. If Izuku's personal inability to handle AFO were being highlighted, Katsuki could have used には, which I talk about briefly in this post:

The combination of the two particles ni and wa are used to emphasize, compare, and contrast. This is extremely telling just on its own. Izuku is emphasizing the fact that, compared to everyone he could possibly tell, he cannot tell Katsuki this. He might be able to tell other people, but when it comes to Katsuki, he cannot. Ienai does not specify where the limitation stems from, but ni wa sure implies it.

If Katsuki wanted to disparage Izuku in comparison to himself, like "that guy obviously can't handle you, so I'll do it," he would have said something like this. He even could have slapped his own singular pronoun and ga in there (俺が拭う) to emphasize himself as an individual actor. But that's not what he did.

The particle wa tells us what the topic is. Neither Katsuki nor Izuku are the topic in any iteration of this line; they are subjects engaging with the verbs. The topic is "the things OFA (that guy) can't handle."

Now, because every other time Katsuki said this line had ga in it too, wa wasn't quite as strong as it is this third time. If ga emphasizes what comes before it, then wa emphasizes what comes after. It tells us, "this is the topic, now hold onto your seats."

Katsuki is emphasizing the predicate and the verb. What's gonna happen and how it's gonna happen.

He's saying, "our side is gonna fucking crush you."

The wa particle and the separate balloons build tension, suspense, and excitement—which the leaker instantly deflates. By front-loading Katsuki as both topic and subject ("I'm the guy"), the emphasis is no longer on the promise of destruction he will deliver on.

The emphasis is indisputably on the part after the balloon break, so the mention of Izuku ("when that nerd can't handle it all on his own") reads weirdly like an insult. Hell, most of the words the leaker uses are about Izuku's inability to handle the situation, which bloat the second half of the line and effectively kill the momentum.

Fumbling the flow of a line is a common mistake for amateur translators. Sometimes, it's hard to avoid because Japanese grammar is often the inverse of English grammar; maintaining the original order may render it awkward or even unintelligible.

But that is not the case here.

pikahlua's literal translation

There's no reason to reorder the clauses. You can spruce up the wording, but the lines are perfectly understandable and effective in this order even at their most literal.

The leaker chose to reorder the lines this way, and their translation is worse for it.

Viz Comparison

Official translation by Viz

After what I've said about particles, pacing, and emphasis, I think you can plainly see that the official translator understood these details and made his own choices to highlight them.

Any time you get text with furigana (explained here), you have to decide how to incorporate those dual pieces of information into the text. He could have translated this as "that guy couldn't keep you in the ground," but instead he prioritized the reference to OFA.

By doing this, Viz's translation avoids the implication of insult towards Izuku that the leaker falls prey to.

He also made the choice to translate kocchi as "we."

First, I’m bringing this post back around to remind people that kocchi is a pronoun of ambiguous plurality. This means that an interpretation of “we” is just as correct as an interpretation of “I.” Readers may interpret it differently, but on simply linguistic grounds, they are of equal validity. You will often see this kind of ambiguous language used in Japanese, even with characters that are forthright. The reason is one part cultural expectation that the listener will read between the lines, and one part a willingness to accept two things as simultaneously true. This exists and is frequently found in English as well, there just isn’t a direct parallel for kocchi itself.

A number of people were infuriated by this, because they felt some sort of bkdk moment was erased by Katsuki saying "we" rather than "I."

Yet it seemed like these same people were also mad one week prior when the leaker and the official translator worded Katsuki's rallying cry slightly differently.

Chapter 404. Leaker, left. Official, right.

The claim there was apparently that the official translator was ignoring Katsuki's character development.

And like, which is it, guys? Do you want him centering the collective or himself?

The fact is that the official translation's characterization of Katsuki in the final battle is internally consistent with itself, while the leaker's is all over the goddamn place. Let us never forget that the leaker was just straight up WRONG here while the official got it exactly right.

Chapter 408. Leaker, left. Official, right.

People were losing their shit that Viz made Katsuki "insult himself" and "expect failure" as though he's never used temee to refer to himself self-deprecatingly before.

And then the leaker just had to pretend that didn't happen in the next fucking chapter, while the official got to correctly reiterate their interpretation like they were taking a victory lap.

Chapter 409. Leaker, left. Official, right.

All of this makes it unbelievably rich for the leaker to go and say shit like this:

The leaker is an amateur translator. They spent ages stealing an artist's work and releasing it illegally for a profit with shoddy translations and misleading, even outright false "summaries."

Based on the nature of their translation mistakes, it is obvious to me that they are not fluent in Japanese, yet here they are bragging about their inability to understand how kocchi could mean "we."

Right before the line in question, Katsuki emphasizes himself as an individual in declaring himself to be the final boss.

Chapter 405 俺がラスボスだ AFO!! ore ga rasu bosu da AFO!!

And then, by using ってな, Katsuki is basically quoting himself.

"I said we were gonna handle what that guy couldn't, didn't I!?"

This suggests he is repeating the established meaning for emphasis, not changing it. If kocchi was plural when he said it in chapter 323, it's reasonable for it to still be plural here. Katsuki is not ignoring himself as an individual by doing this; he is rubbing it in AFO's face that neither he nor Izuku are solitary actors fighting this battle alone, they both belong to something greater than themselves.

I'm gonna step up on a soapbox for a bit.

I am kinda tired of people calling Japanese vague. I often see it used to imply Japanese is inherently hard to understand or that it doesn't have the capacity for specificity. Like any language, Japanese can be used to express specific, clear, and direct information. While it is true Japanese culture values indirectness as a way to maintain harmony, I would like to challenge the ethnocentricism I feel sometimes goes unaddressed in this topic.

Japanese is less tolerant of repetition and verbal excess than English is; information that has been established should only be repeated for a purpose. Japanese speakers expect their conversation partners to maintain awareness of context, social expectations, and specific interpersonal information to grasp the intended meaning of their words. Specificity is doled out when it is warranted or desired.

Specificity divides one thing from another, drawing lines in the sand and saying "this is this, and that is that." English often requires repetitive specificity to even be grammatically comprehensible. And while this might not be directly related, many English-speaking countries tend to have a more individualistic outlook on society than collectivist countries like Japan.

To me, "vague" often smacks of a value judgment: "there should be division here, and there isn't."

I said earlier that kocchi creates division by highlighting sides, us vs. them, but when people press on and ask, "but did he say we or I? which did he REALLY mean?" I just want to say that really? truly? he meant both. all of the above.

I think it is unproductive to think of Japanese as vague just because it doesn't exclude possibilities as often or as strongly as English does. I think it is a lot more useful and interesting to think of Japanese as expansive.

Why should there be division between Katsuki and the people fighting by his side? Why should he separate himself from the people who saved his life and risked their own in relentless pursuit of their common, heroic goal?

Why is it unacceptable to imagine an "I" belonging so sincerely and wholly to a "we" that their voices are one?

Katsuki's words reflect the fact that this fight being fought by a collective, a team.

In this context, OFA is a weapon in their arsenal, just as Katsuki himself is.

He is a force of nature, an agent of their willpower.

Chapter 404

He rode upon the winds of their prayers, ushered on by Izuku's hopes

and his own regrets,

to change the course of fate itself.

For much of the series, Katsuki is our beacon of individualism, of defiant refusal to bend to the will and expectations of others.

But Katsuki is also our image of victory. He shows us how to face our failures and change our hearts. He is our proof that rejecting others only hurts us in the end—his love for Izuku and Izuku's love for him is the story's greatest proof that as human beings, we are not better alone, we are better with each other. Other people change us, inspire us, and we do the same for them.

We need each other. We belong to each other.

It is in this final battle where Katsuki becomes his truest self, overcoming every obstacle in his path, making up for every painful regret in his heart, and utilizing every single thing in his grasp to save and win.

If Katsuki ever truly belonged to something bigger than himself, it is in this moment right here.

English divides the one from the many, and while that has its benefits, I think there is real, honest beauty to be found in a word that smooths those lines in the sand until there is no distinction at all.

That's who the fucking "we" is, rukasu.

Now onto my next gripe.

Katsuki is supposed to sound badass here

Frankly, the fan fury surrounding Viz's use of "we" completely overshadowed the fact that the phrase "One For All couldn't keep you in the ground" is fucking metal.

It rules. I'm fucking jealous I didn't write those words. It is such a good translation and it packs so much punch and I wouldn't have thought of it in a thousand years.

The official translator focuses his efforts on genre-specific tone translation, and sometimes he really nails it. I will freely admit that I find his style grating or overwrought at times, and indeed, one of his key weaknesses is that the flavor of comic-book dialogue he pulls from can sound one generation too old to be cool.

One of the most damning examples of this is him having Katsuki utter the word "bub"—

Chapter 406

—which I think no English-speaker under the age of 30 had actually heard before Deadpool & Wolverine came out.

Honestly, if you just read Wolverine comics from the 80s, 90s, and early 2000s, you can see the character archetype he leans into for Katsuki's dialogue. 405's tagged-on "—and then some!!" is straight out of American action movies.

But the main point here is that Katsuki is taunting AFO and threatening him. He blows up AFO's face, announces himself as the final boss, then vows to kick his ass to death on behalf of everyone. It's amazing.

The line sounds cool as fuck in Japanese. The "naaaa" flourish at the end is nearly untranslatable in any direct way that still captures the appeal and impact of it.

I tend to think of sentence enders like this as flavor text or tone tags. To properly convey them in English, you may have to add a bunch of words, and you have to choose them carefully.

All of this is to say, the official translation tries pretty hard to make Katsuki sound cool. Do they succeed? I think to an extent, they do.

I actually think it's possible the translator did recognize the callback, but wasn't satisfied with the effect of repeating it. You can see that "finish the job" is supposed to link Izuku's actions to theirs, while also sounding grandiose and final.

The Viz translator might've simply prioritized showcasing the cool-guy threat while maintaining the collectivist angle, rather than matching the callback word for word. I don't really think that's the best choice, but I can see why it might be made.

The leaker's translation doesn't make any real effort to up the ante. Maybe this line is cool to somebody, but it ain't me.

In fact, are we ever gonna acknowledge that the leaker's translation just scoops up most of its wording from the official release of chapters 322 and 323?

"I'm the guy who steps in when that nerd can't handle it all on his own!!"

The leaker was not responsible for these translations, but just look at how other people tried to grapple with Katsuki's metaphor.

In fact, the only person whose choice of words prophetically matched Viz was pikahlua, four days before the official release:

And even then, you can see that "step in when" is unique to Viz.

I'm not saying that similarities in translation are unacceptable or that directly referencing the official release is bad, but I do find it truly incredible they had the gall to shit-talk the official translator after cheating off his damn homework.

The leaker basically contributed six words: "I'm the guy who" and "that nerd." I personally disagree with "the guy who" as a translation addition, just because I think it too strongly isolates him in a way that using "I" and "I'm" by themselves do not, but it wouldn't have been terrible if they had also maintained the original clause order: "One For All couldn't handle you... but I'm the guy who—", something like that.

This brings us to my final gripe.

Katsuki did not say “that nerd.”

The leaker made that shit up, they inserted it for no reason and ignored the two pronouns the original text actually provides, OFA and aitsu (that guy).

In the manga, Katsuki has never called Izuku a nerd to villains, not once. It is rare for him to use it while speaking to someone other than Izuku, period. It’s an insulting pet name he uses towards Izuku or while muttering angrily to himself about Izuku.

To be clear, the narrator who uses "shitty nerd" is not Katsuki, they merely validate the accuracy of his nickname for Izuku. Yes, I just linked to my tag for the whole damn 348 chapter, because I've argued against this theory a lot, just read 'em all, it's a good time.

By my count, he only uses it once while talking to Todoroki in chapter 42 and once to Ochako in a 5-page bonus chapter for the first character guide, set shortly after chapter 65. Both take place very early in the series and both are examples of his intense grudge against Izuku.

Did you know that the last time Katsuki uses "nerd" towards Izuku directly is in chapter 320?

Who's ignoring Katsuki's character development again?

The fact is the word doesn't exist in 405's text, and there just isn't precedent for him to say it to All For One.

Trash-talk doesn’t work if your opponent has no clue what the hell you’re talking about. AFO would have no idea who “that nerd” is even supposed to be, because they were not already discussing Izuku, unlike both canon instances of Katsuki using it in conversation with others. The audibly-pronounced aitsu just means "that guy over there (physically near neither you nor me)" and you could argue that is unclear, too, but it's relatively neutral and context clues everyone in to the fact that he means Izuku, with whom he just did an explosive, flying duo move.

I think some bkdk fans were keen to see him use the tsundere insult we all love so much, but it just doesn't read right to me. Writing an insult towards Izuku into this kind of line, even an affectionate one, misdirects the aggression and fails to highlight how Katsuki makes a mockery of AFO during their fight.

I really do think it undercuts how, in his big moment of taunting the greatest villain in history, Katsuki brings up making good on a vow he made to Izuku.

And let's not forget that there is a definitive moment where Katsuki references his relationship with Izuku while taunting AFO:

Chapter 406

To roast the villain for his stupidity in misidentifying him, Katsuki loudly announces himself to be Bakugou no Kacchan.

Katsuki proudly identifies himself with the cutesy nickname his childhood friend has used for him their whole damn lives. That's a far cry from somebody who'd insult Izuku just to hype himself up.

So, no, I don't accept "that nerd." I think the leaker just added it to make their translation sound cooler, but they did so at the expense of Katsuki's character. It's tacky, cheap, and not based in any honest reading of the text.

Put the nickname in your fanworks however brings you joy. Really, go for it, I know I sure do!

But let's not pretend Katsuki said it here.

In conclusion

Katsuki's dialogue offers a unique array of challenges to translators. I would never argue that he is easy to translate, and so much of his characterization is expressed in the minutiae of what he says. Much of his dialogue contains layers of meaning, and any translator is going to have to make a call about how to interpret those layers and what to highlight.

I made this post to say my piece about a translation tons of English-speaking fans love. In the process of dissecting what frustrated me about it, I researched and studied and learned so much.

And to be honest with you, I don't know that I have a solution for this line. I thought of a ton of options:

One For All couldn't keep you in the ground... but we're here to step in and finish the job once and for all!!

I promised we'd step in when that guy couldn't handle it on his own... and I fucking meant it!!

After all, what One For All can't handle... he's got us here to handle for him!!

One For All couldn't stop you… so it's a good thing that guy's got us here to step in and finish the job!!

If the guy with One For All can't get it done alone... then we're here to take you down for him!!

Maybe One For All couldn't handle the job alone... but our side is still gonna kick your ass!!

Some of them are very fun, and each highlights a different set of priorities: collectivism, connection, coolness, intimidation, and so on.

But you could pick apart my words the same way I picked apart the leaker's and Viz's.

There will never be a one true translation. There can't be. For as many readers as there are, there are just as many interpretations to what Katsuki's words mean and what is important about them.

In every translation, you face loss—loss of information, loss of specificity, loss of ambiguity, loss of emotionality, loss of cultural meaning. Your job as a translator is to lose as little as possible, and to make sure you can stomach the things you do lose.

You also gain things in translation. New meanings, new layers, new cultural implications. By showing the audience what you see and choosing how you say it to them, you add something of yourself to the work. You can't not.

As a translator, I want to keep learning and trying and going beyond. I want to do right by the things I translate. I want to share the things I love with other people and figure out, as best I can, how to make them see what is beautiful about it.

Unlike Bakugou Katsuki, we translators can never achieve a perfect victory.

But it's always worth trying.

#I love Bakugou Katsuki #I love him with all my heart #he is my hero #he has given me so much #volume 40 comes out officially in English tomorrow #and if this line gets revised I'll laugh my ass off #and probably think about this all over again #really I'll never stop thinking about this stuff #because as much shit-talking as I'm doing here #it really is so so exciting to see how other people translate things #I love language #I love manga #and I love Bakugou no Kacchan #image of victory #and perfect boy #a creature of love #who loved another boy so truly and so deeply #that I dedicated hours and months and years of my life to learning Japanese even better #so I could see him properly #thank you Kacchan #and thank you to everyone who reads my blog #I think this is the longest fucking post on my blog ever so if you made it to the end #seriously #thank you #mha 322 #mha 323 #mha 404 #mha 405 #mha 406 #mha 408

305 notes · View notes

ew-selfish-art · 2 years ago

Text

DpxDc AU: Soulmates only meet in the afterlife...And Danny is dead half of the time.

It was the general consensus that Soulmates did indeed exist, and that there were a couple of hints to know if your soulmate was, but you wouldn’t know for certain until you died. This was often devastating for widows of non-soulmates but... Widows could hear the voices of and feel the phantom touches of their Soulmates. That after their loved one passed away, they didn’t truly leave them.

Soulmates always traveled to the infinite realms together in a pair, unwilling to pass on without the other. This leads to the ghosts that seemingly never moved on and gave Danny so much grief, they needed to pass the time until their loved one died some how.

Danny dies and feels himself talking to himself more often while transformed into Phantom, kicking butt and taking names aside. Just small things to reassure himself, nothing more than an instinct to process the situation he was in with this insane life he was living.

I’m going to be okay, I’m going to get out of this.

I swear to all the ancients that Casper High better make a statue in my honor.

Mom and Dad don’t mean it.

The fundraiser to rebuild Poltergeist Avenue is going to be ridiculous.

Mom and Dad wouldn’t mean it if they really knew.

Nasty burger really should rebrand but my goodness is this the best shit ever.

It takes a few years to think about the fact that he might have a soulmate who could hear him- how unlikely would that be though? It’s not like he was haunting the person, so it probably wasn’t any big issue. Was there a proximity thing involved? Clockwork sighs and gives him no true answers.

...

Tim has been hearing the voice of his Soulmate for years. Not...All the time though. He’d mapped out the time frame by which he did hear the additional male voice, accumulated enough data to determine a general profile and geotagged a few of the landmarks mentioned to find the most likely town. Restaurants, street names, highschools, and notable names all help Tim to find what he’s looking for. The concerning amount of comments on his soulmates parents make Tim’s blood boil and motivate him all the more.

Thing is...Amity Park is under a complete media blackout. The challenge nearly makes him swoon, as if his dead soulmate were leading him towards his favorite hobby (taking down corrupt groups of assholes with too much power, cult or government, was his ideal pass time). He just wants to know who his soulmate was. He wants to know who is waiting for him.

Arriving undercover and unannounced as a random tourist, Tim cannot find his soulmates grave. Can’t find anything about the person who died all those years ago and had spoken in his ear ever since. He’s about to storm the Mayor’s office, his plans for the GIW already in motion, when a ghost attack begins.

Phantom arrives and suddenly Tim understands who exactly he’s been looking for. Getting into the crosshairs of the fight, Tim pulls a few RR moves and Phantom cautiously approaches him after capturing the assailant ghost.

“I’m here because you’re my soulmate, and it’s very interesting that you only talk to me during non-business hours. Care to explain what you’re doing between 9 am and 3 pm, Monday through Friday?”

“Uh... High school mostly. Wait you can hear me? You’re my soulmate?”

Cue Danny de-transformation, explanation of his death and ability to die on command, and Tim’s very softball interrogation with his presentation on how he found Danny through the small conversational phrases.

They kiss as the GIW headquarters explode in the background.

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc #dc x dp #dc crossover #dp crossover #danny phantom #tim drake #this could work with a number of other soulmates in the JL #It would be interesting with Jason or Damian also since they've died and come back #that got more complicated than i wanted to write tho lmao #soulmate au

3K notes · View notes

bettystonewell · 4 months ago

Text

I GOT YOU

Masterlist || Reas on AO3

Dean Winchester x Reader

Dean might not have the best bedside manners and you might not be the best patient, but when you wake up feeling unwell and feverous, he tries to help you out in his own way. 1.1k words

Tags: fluff, sick-fic, language, Dean takes care of you

A/N: I wrote this one a little over a year ago when I was feeling under the weather and sorry for myself. Nothing like a Dean body pillow (if only I could get my hands on one), even when you’re not sick.

You woke up that morning like any other. The sound of your alarm calling to you from what felt like a distant room. Only your phone was a mere foot away from you, sitting on the bedside table charging and waiting for you to turn it off.

Dammit. Sam would be waiting for you in the war room, ready to start your early morning run.

You moved to push yourself up and off your mattress, but your body felt heavier than normal, fingers and toes, oddly sweaty. In fact, your whole body was covered in a sheen of sweat, and yet you felt cold.

No. Urgh. No. You couldn’t be getting sick, could you? You’d barely left the bunker in the last few days to run into anyone that could pass any germs onto you. But the further you moved across the floor of your room to your wardrobe to choose your clothes for the day, the heavier your body felt. The foggier your mind became. The snottier your… Urgh…

Fuck this! Fuck Sam and his morning run. You were going back to bed. Hopefully to sleep it off and wake up feeling refreshed and not sick.

You. Were. Not. Sick.

And you kept telling yourself that, splaying yourself out on top of your bed like a starfish, feet dangling haphazardly over the edge.

Lucky there were no such things as monsters under the bed. Or was there? Sam or Dean had never told you if such things existed and you’d certainly never come across any mention of one in the books in the library. Urgh. You were delirious and needed rest.

Rest. Rest was… Good…

A loud thump startled you from your dream. It had been a good dream, too. One where Dean had been…

“Sweetheart?” the object of your desires called out to you from behind the door to your room. “You in there?” he yelled loudly again. Making your eardrums ring with the obnoxious way he insisted on greeting you presently.

Why did he have to be so loud?

You tried to reply, but your voice was dry and hoarse. The sound coming from your vocal cords while meaning to be a “Yeah,” came out more like a cat hacking up a fur ball.

Surprisingly, though, he heard you. Either that or he disregarded his manners as usual and opened the door anyway to find you still sprawled across your bed. Your hair no doubt splayed in every which way across your face and back, while your nose dripped with the mucus you had zero fucks of wiping in that present moment.

His eyes did a once over your weakened form and he commented in a way only he could get away with. At least at present because you had no energy to throttle him.

“Woah! Sweetheart! You look like shit!”

A groan that was meant to come out as a sarcastic “thanks” escaped your throat. ‘Way to make a girl feel better, jackass.’

You slowly sat up, making sure your clothes hadn’t bunched awkwardly in any of the wrong places as you did so. The fear of accidentally exposing yourself to him while you were still stuck in the friend zone fuelled you, even in your under the weather state.

Once upright, your body swayed. Its own weight, too heavy to hold itself and your head up on top of it. Arms doing their best to support you, along with your legs and feet that you dropped to the floor.

Dean’s eagle eyes had been watching you the entire time. Studying your movements and observing the way you scrunched up your face in pain and discomfort.

Without an invitation or an explanation, he walked over to where you now sat and placed himself beside you. A hand coming up to feel your forehead. The drops of sweat transferring to the back of his hand, along with the heat that radiated off of your skin.

“You’re sick!” he exclaimed, his voice hitching on the end.

‘No shit, Sherlock,’ your inner voice said, but “Hmph” was the sound that escaped you.

“You should lie back down. I’ll go get you some aspirin or something.”

The something scared you and you shook your head in protest.

“Don’t be so stubborn. We gotta break that fever. Wait here.” And he stood up and left the room.

Now alone again and no longer feeling the pressure to sit up in front of company, you allowed your body to flop back onto the bed. Your head missing your pillow by inches, but you didn’t care. It was easier to lie where you now lay. Moving was just as difficult as speaking had been, and sleep soon took you again.

You woke to the feeling of something or someone shaking you this time. Strong hands on your shoulders, gripping the muscle and flesh over them too tight.

“Help me sit her up.” A male voice rung through your ears again.

“Dude, she’s really burning up. I don’t know if this’ll be enough.”

“Just, okay Sammy!” said the first.

A second set of hands grabbed your own, and you were pulled and pushed into a sitting position. A softer feeling headboard, or was it a hard muscly mattress, slipped in behind your back? It grew arms and then wrapped them around your frame, pulling you against it.

Fingers pried open your mouth and placed a small object on your tongue. A hard, smoother one pushed against your lips and cool liquid flowed against your teeth and down your chin. A second pair of fingertips massaged your neck and the tiny pill shaped thing eased down your throat and into your stomach.

Your head still pounded when you awoke again, but your body felt less cold and more comfortable. The grogginess of waking made it clear you had finally managed some uninterrupted sleep.

But your pillow felt hard, and it wasn’t like that before. It didn’t smell of whiskey and gunpowder, either. The same scent you loved to smell when you sat in Baby or next to… Dean…

His soft flannel was on your cheek. Short spikey ends of his five o’clock shadow pressed through the strands of hair that graced your head, tickling your scalp underneath. His hand rested on your side, draped lightly by the arm that wrapped around your back.

You were on a lean, lying against Dean. His sock covered feet attached to the end of his denim covered bow legs came into view as you opened your eyes for the first time since he’d arrived in your room earlier that day.

As you moved to sit up, startled by the position you’d found yourself in, his hand pressed you down, gentle but firm. “Stay still and rest, sweetheart,” he said. “I got you.”

You swallowed the lump in your dry, aching throat and attempted to talk. “Dean?” His name left your lips shaky and coarse.

“Best not to talk…” His body leaned some, shifting back into place almost as quick with the addition of a glass tumbler half full of water. “Here…”

The cup tilted into your lips and the cool liquid from earlier lined your inner mouth and throat, relieving the scratch that had tickled them some.

Dean leaned back again, and you heard the glass hit the wood of the table at the edge of your bed. “Better?” he asked softly.

Your head only nodded in response, lazilly and slow was all you could manage.

“Good. You had us worried. Go back to sleep. I got you.”

DEAN TAG LIST:

@globetrotter28 @ambiguous-avery @arcannaa @jollyhunter @zepskies

@reluctanthalfwayoptimism @supernotnatural2005 @jackles010378 @kaz-2y5-spn @applelovesposts

@jaydensluv @foxyjwls007

If you’d like to be tagged in anything, please let me know, or you can add yourself HERE

#dean winchester #dean takes care of you #dean x reader #dean x you #sick fic #fluffy one shot #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fic #spn fanfiction #spn reader insert #fem reader #one shot #fluff #I got you

400 notes · View notes

kissytoru · 4 months ago

Text

playing dangerous ▬ nanami kento

PAIRING: police officer!nanami x pop star!reader

SUMMARY: the house was already on fire—or at least, that’s what you tell officer nanami when he cuffs you, suspecting you of arson. so, naturally, you switch to your honeyed tone, layering your words with a saccharine lilt to slip out of the situation. oh, but if only you had as much brains as you did charm. ﹙inspired by playing dangerous by lana del rey.﹚

WARNINGS: implied afab reader. cussing. reader is kind of a horndog LOL (forgive her she's trying to get out of jail), plot revolves around fires, arson, federal crimes, police & law enforcement, etc. talks of a corpse. mentions of motives of homicide, etc.

WORD COUNT: 1.5k | masterlist |

﹙minors/ageless blogs will be blocked.﹚

Your ex-husband had it coming.

If he believed you would silently endure the burden of his transgressions—the callous, cruel murder of your career as a world-renowned pop-star—then he was either foolishly misguided or tragically unintelligent.

You supposed you were at fault too, but you were obstinate enough not to acknowledge the same. It was you, after all, who had pursued a relationship with a mogul in the production industry, driven by ambitions to gain traction with your music by working under a more prominent name.

It had been a year ago when the scales had finally tipped irreparably, when you had discovered that he had usurped your music's legal protection and ownership rights—without so much of a whisper of an explanation in regards of the matter—which allowed him to reap all of the financial benefits that should have been yours alone.

But a divorce and an even heftier alimony wasn't enough.

All that was insufficient to rectify all that he had inflicted upon you and your career.

He had to go.

Now.

So, you watch as flames engulf the charred skeleton of his luxury mansion, and as vestiges of diminishing trails of stygian smoke claw at the night sky. The gentle drag you take from your own cigarette minimally contributes to the thriving volume of the thick fumes as you watch the home burn to the ground.

The inevitable presence of panicked neighbors fills the roads, their anxious and fearful murmurs of observance blending with the arrival of the fire department dousing the remains of the building, followed closely by inbound police officers and guard dogs. As they disembark from their cars, sirens punctuate the silence of the night, alongside the periodic flashes of red, white, and blue.

Some shakily film the scene, and others watch in horror from their windows and terraces, while the firemen and officers attempt to placate both the flames and the onlookers.

It's then that Officer Nanami notices the rather serene eye of the storm.

You, heedlessly leaning against one of the many lit lamp-posts, the glow of which renders your figure almost incandescent as you watch the authorities attempt to extinguish the destruction. Observing the scene with the faintest hints of a succubus-like simper with a knowing glint in your eye, it doesn't surprise you when the officer approaches you, in demand of an explanation.

"Miss," an observant voice comments in your direction, looking from you to the paperwork in his hands, and back again. His chest pocket gleams with a police badge and several accolades of duty, and his hair—blond—is effulgent in the halo of the streetlight. "Would you care to explain?"

"Explain?" you reiterate, turning in his direction as though the perilous display of committed incendiarism in front of you both was a mere commonality of a spectacle. Elevated fire hoses spurt boundless water and cause a draft of wind afoot in your direction. Your sheer nightgown sways gently with the breeze, the rippling silk deeming your appearance almost ghostly. "Explain what, officer?"

"You are Mr. Ricci's ex-wife, are you not?" he elucidates, glancing from the annihilated ruins of the home to you. "And you just so happen to be present at the scene of this crime, utterly and completely peaceful. That alone, along with your publicized hatred for the man, is enough for us to bring you in as the prime suspect of this crime."

"Whoa, crime?" you answer, eyebrows raising in almost mock-astonishment. "You need to slow down with your assumptions, Officer..."

Your gaze drops to the gold star resting below the collar of his shirt, and you deliberately make a show out of reading the name printed underneath the metallic insignia.

"... Nanami," you complete.

He has no reply, awaiting yours.

"Well, I suppose your conjecture is sensible. I do hate him. Publicly, as you specified," you continue, arms folding casually as you speak with utmost indifference. "But ... no, I wouldn't do a thing like that, that's for sure."

Officer Nanami raises a speculative eyebrow, non-verbally contradicting your shallow explanation. His mien is brusquely schooled into something of vexation.

"He called me." you elaborate, honestly, unlocking your phone and showing him your recent calls. Three incoming calls from the contact FUCKFACE and one outgoing lets Officer Nanami know that you may not be guilty. Not entirely, at least. "He found some of my belongings in his attic this morning and asked for me to take them back. And when I did get here, the house was already on fire, I swear I'm not a liar."

He examines your screen once more before returning your device.

"And your first instinct was to simply ... stand there?" he inquires, wanting desperately to coax a slip-up out of your honeyed words. "Not to, perhaps, inform the authorities? That said, I do not believe anyone with such enmity and distaste for their previous partner shows up to the home of the aforementioned in—shall I say—nightclothes? Barefoot, even?"

"The neighbors were already calling the fire station and the police," you counter swiftly, the tips of your fingers brushing along the bare length of his forearm. You quietly ignore his comments about your attire. His hands clench the paperwork tighter at your fleeting touches. "I wouldn't want to overwhelm the station with a barrage of calls so close to midnight. Tell me, do you always work alone so late?"

"I will not tolerate any inane deflections from the subject," Officer Nanami huffs, watching as your hand falls back to your side. "Stick to the case on hand. If you remain so uncooperative, you are reserving yourself a place in the interrogation room back at the precinct. Where is your vehicle? Can you tell me just how you arrived at this location?

"Always so serious," you muse in response, eyes flitting to the lamentable, drenched remnants of your ex-husband's home (and his pitiful corpse too, you hope), wicked hints of a grin teasing your lips. "The precinct seems like a better idea. I'm a little shy standing here in my nightgown."

"You are anything but shy," Officer Nanami manages to speak amidst his own impetuosity, patience thinning and frustration growing like the very embers of fire that had erupted from Ricci's mansion when you had doused the home's electric cabinet in gasoline mere hours ago, flicking your lighter on seconds later. "Answer. My. Question."

"You're no fun," you groan, flicking your extinguished cigarette into a nearby trash can. "My black Aventador is outside the neighborh—"

You're interrupted by the deafening crash of the final few standing planks of wood in the compound, which drop to the amalgamation of soil and soot with numerous crackles of traces of fire.

"It's so noisy," you remark, nose scrunching distastefully at the disruption. You continue almost cloyingly, pulling another cigarette out of the thin pocket of your robe. "Let's get in the back of your cop car, officer. You can ask me anything you want."

As though clinging to the final fragments of his thinly veiled patience, Nanami sighs, and his eyes flit to your pocket for a moment, clearly having noticed something of interest. Before you know it, your cheek and shoulder hit the firm, metallic surface of the streetlight pole, and Officer Nanami gathers your wrists behind your back with one hand and cuffs them together with another.

"You have the right to remain silent," Officer Nanami tells you, tone deadpan as he takes hold of the chain binding both cuffs together, all but dragging you to his police van as he informs his colleagues of the arrest over walkie-talkie. "Anything you say can and will be used against y—"

"Do you really have to put those tight handcuffs on?" you cut him off grudgingly through gritted teeth, as you near the vehicle.

Officer Nanami's only response comes in the form of you both stopping against the hood of the van, where he reaches for the objects in the pocket of your robe, pulling out a half-consumed Marlboro box, and...

Your lighter.

Fuck.

"Yes, I do," he tells you, almost ridiculously smug, as he bags the belongings in separate evidence folders. When you board the backseat of the van, he closes the door behind you and shuts the lock before he gets into the driver's seat himself.

Officer Nanami lowers the incessant, mindless hum of the radio as he drives you to the station. You glance out of one of the caged windows, and—ironically enough—spot yourself posing on a billboard, advertising a luxury fragrance called Flames of Lust. You almost snort at the sight, resentfully rolling your eyes.

Your gaze willfully turns to his hands, bare and wrapped around the leather of the steering wheel, and you have to restrain yourself from saying something brash.

You're pulled out of your salacious reverie when he leads the van through a traffic-laden road and turns on the sirens, the reverberating alarms making you realize the true gravity of the situation.

Officer Nanami may have bested you for just this one instance.

But this was far from over.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: my first ever fic on here eek 😬 it's been ages since i've actually written anything, so let me know if this was good in my asks plz :> pt 2 out soon 😋

﹙please like, share, and reblog <3 do not copy, repost, plagiarize, edit, translate, or feed my work into ai or chatbots.﹚

#jjk #jjk x reader #jjk nanami #nanami x reader #nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk nanami kento #kissytoru's works #minors dni #divider by enchanthings-a #jujutsu kaisen #x reader #jjk smut #divider by v6que

181 notes · View notes