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the-himawari · 1 year ago

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A3! Usui Masumi - Translation [SR] Reminiscence of Blooming (1/2)

*Please read disclaimer on blog; default name set as Izumi

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Masumi: (The bakery should still be open at this hour, so I’ll buy some curry bread for Director…)

Izumi: *Huff, huff*…

Masumi: —! …Director. Hand those bags to me.

Izumi: Woah, Masumi-kun! Are you on your way home from university? Welcome back.

Masumi: I’m back. I’m glad we got to meet each other before we reached the dorm… but for now, hand me your bags. They look heavy, so I’ll carry them.

Izumi: Thanks. Can I ask you to take this one and this one then?

Masumi: You can give them all to me.

Izumi: The rest are fine. You’ve helped me lots already. I’m glad I bumped into you, Masumi-kun.

Masumi: …Call me at moments like this. I’ll come dashing over right away.

Izumi: Got it. I’ll ask you for a favour when I can.

Masumi: Great.

Izumi: By the way, have you chosen a location to film for your video yet?

Masumi: Ah. The video for the introduction of Veludo Town, right… I haven’t decided yet, but I’m going to think it over soon.

Izumi: I see. I’m looking forward to which place you’re going to introduce.

Masumi: (Director’s looking forward to it… Let’s put some thought into it so I can make her happy.)

-pause-

Masumi: (…I came up with several places to introduce after that, but in the end, I haven’t settled on anything.) … (An arcade, huh… Itaru introduced one earlier on the MANKAI Channel, plus it’s not the kind of place I’d choose anyways—)

Itaru: Masumi?

Masumi: …God no.

Itaru: We just happened to bump into each other and I’m getting dragged. I see you’re looking at the arcade. Are you planning to go in or something?

Masumi: I didn’t mean to stare at it or anything.

Itaru: I see. But hey, seeing as we’re here, come join me for a bit. I’m gonna play some fighting games.

Masumi: Why me…

Itaru: It’s fine, it’s fine. Come on, hurry now.

Masumi: Don’t pull me.

-pause-

Game announcement: YOU WIN!

Itaru: Hell yeah! I feel super satisfied pulling off such a sick combo.

Masumi: Ugh…

Itaru: Ooh, someone looks mad. Wanna go again? I’ll take you on.

Masumi: …You’re on.

Itaru: That’s what I’m talking about.

Masumi: What a pain…

Itaru: I can’t heeear you.

Masumi: …

Itaru: By the way, you’re pretty into this fighting game too, huh?

Masumi: …I’m not into it. Don’t lump us together.

-pause-

Masumi: *Sigh*…

Izumi: Masumi-kun? What’s wrong? It looks like you got home a little late today.

Masumi: …I happened to run to Itaru on my way home from school and he made me go to the arcade with him. I’m drained. But I’m fine now. When I saw your face, all my fatigue blew away.

Izumi: Ahaha. I’m glad if you say so. In any case, I noticed you’ve started going to the arcade more often than before. Do you actually kind of like them?

Masumi: (…Director cares and notices the little things about me… I’m so happy.) I wouldn’t say I like them… but I think they’re good places to kill time. Winning in fighting games is surprisingly stress-relieving.

Izumi: Fufu, I see. It’s important to have places like that though, don’t you think? The fact that you can go there to kill time might make it a little more special than you think.

Masumi: That’s true… (…I wasn’t even considering it before. But maybe it wouldn’t be a bad place to introduce in my video.)

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#a3!#a3! translation #usui masumi #act! addict! actors!#hello everyone yes im alive #but i'm going to japan next week so things are hectic lol WHAT'S NEW #I miss masumi tho

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doudy-reblog · 10 months ago

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Venez me voir à la Japan Addict!

J'ai des goodies, avec des fanarts et ma BD @murs-a-briser et tout!

J'suis "en avance" sur mes préparations de dernière minute suite à une procrastination lol

#con #convention #france #strasbourg #geek #japan addict #doudy #info

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fl4tlines · 26 days ago

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Bad Things Happen Bingo – Addiction/Withdrawal @badthingshappenbingo ┆ Square #1

「✦」 OCs: Kay Edwards ⅋ Paris Elswood 「✧」 Content: Addiction ┆ Alcoholism ┆ Cursing ┆ Graphic Drug Use ┆Suicide Mention 「✦」 Word Count: 2,145 「✧」 Relevant Links: None Yet

⛧ ‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿⛧ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀❝ So you pour a little more; // And there's no one there to judge you; // At least that's what you tell yourself; // But don't you know, nobody drinks alone; // Every demon, every ghost from your past; // And every memory you've held back; // Follows you home. ❞ ⛧ ‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿⛧

“Can you sort?”

Paris held the phone to his ear as he spoke. The third number in as many minutes. He rubbed his forehead and shook his head at the answer from the other end of the phone.

“Seriously? Look – I can pay double.”

Another wince as he received his response.

“Yeah. Cash.”

“An 8-ball? No, just a sixteenth.”

Paris paced back and forth across the living room carpet, biting at some loose skin around his nail as he waited on an answer.

“Mhm, yeah. Yeah. Great.”

He glanced upwards to the clock. Three in the morning. But it was an hour and… something slow. More like half four. He pressed his hand into his forehead again.

“Yeah. Got it. Double in cash. Same spot as yesterday?”

After receiving the confirmation, Paris hung up the phone and finished the last of a bottle of wine from the table. Cheap shit, Kay had told him. Rough. Muddy. Rotgut. Yeah, Kay liked to pretend he knew what he was talking about. Throwing around all the right buzzwords so people thought he had something worthwhile to contribute.

And Paris couldn’t help but find that endearing.

He grabbed a jacket on his way out of the door – one of Kay’s, khaki green with a fur lined hood. Still with a wad of cash in the pocket from yesterday. Now was a good time to be thankful Kay never wore it.

The moment he was out of the apartment, Paris pulled the hood up and made his way down the two flights of stairs in the dark. Wiring was busted. Again. Third time this week.

Chilled air hit him as he took the all too familiar route, head down as he walked briskly. At this point, he didn’t even have to look up. He could work on muscle memory alone for this. And then the last turn. Taking him down a street – an alley behind long since closed takeouts and a nightclub. With rusted security cameras surveilling it. Long since disconnected.

The usual ten minute wait ensued. Agony. Paris paced back and forth, picking at his nails as he waited. But it was always ten minutes waiting for this guy. Even when he did the forty minute drive in thirty. Paris should be used to this by now, but each moment passing was pressure in his chest. If Kay came home and he was gone, that was the relationship over. Done.

But, if he was home? Plausible deniability. Did that apply? An old stash. A slip up at a party. Peer pressure. Anything to shift the blame off of himself. After he had made the call. Gone in search of one more hit.

But it could be worse, he told himself. It could be heroin. Or meth. But he wasn’t an addict like that. He wasn’t. It was just cocaine.

It was easy to forget that he’d reassured Kay in exactly the same way about his drinking. The drinking could have been worse. Paris had it under control. It wasn’t cocaine. It could have been worse.

It still could be worse.

“Hey,” an unfamiliar voice broke Paris’ train of thought. Probably for the best.

“You’re not Aiden.”

“I should hope not,” the quick, scoffed, reply. “Cami.”

Paris only had the energy, and care, to give her a quick once over. Long, dark hair. Leather jacket. Skinny jeans. Unassuming. Unremarkable.

“Right, whatever. He spoke to you?”

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“I’ve got it. I can do $150.”

“$200.”

“Never had someone talk me up before. Suicidal or something?” Cami’s response was blunt, but she edged it off with a slight smile.

“I keep my word. I’m not screwing over Aiden. And I don’t need a dead hooker on my conscience.”

“Call girl. But it's your money.”

Paris rummaged in his – Kay’s – pocket and counted out the money in front of Cami, before handing it over to her, and replacing it with a small ziploc that she handed him.

“I can put you on to something better. Cheaper,” Cami looked Paris up and down. When he didn’t respond, she continued. “MCAT. You’ll be paying half. Same kick, better price tag.”

Paris thought about it for a few moments, eyes ever so slightly narrowed as he thought about the offer.

“Cheaper doesn’t matter. This is my last hit, I’m done.”

Cami seemed to do everything she could not to laugh in his face.

“I am. I’m done,” Paris repeated.

“You tell yourself that,” Cami pulled out a card and handed it to Paris, who paused before he took it. “Agency card, but just ask for me. I’ll get you sorted.”

“Listen – I – this is my last fix.”

“Doesn’t mean you won’t need the number.”

Paris pocketed the card. Taking it was far easier than trying to argue with her.

“Are we done?”

“Yeah, we’ll talk soon,” Cami had already decided.

“Yeah. Drive safe or whatever,” Paris muttered as he brushed past her and turned the corner out of the alley.

The walk home could have been therapeutic. A quieter version of the usual busy city. Almost lifeless at this time of night – just about to be revived by commuters on the way to a nine to five. And the bustle was beginning as Paris re-entered the apartment through the door which he had left unlocked. A neighbourhood like this? Even Paris would confess that was reckless. The late night pick up felt relatively safe in comparison.

He crashed down on the couch, still in his coat and emptied his pockets onto the table. Paris cursed under his breath, his life contained only to the mess scattered on the cracked glass surface. With his entire existence laid out like this – who was he kidding? With Kay on the verge of leaving him, the comfort he found here was temporary, but wasn’t everything?

Now wasn’t the time to be tearing himself down, right? He was doing better than he could be. And that must count for something. Rock bottom still seemed so far away.

He took one more look at the table before sinking his head into his hands and continuing to curse under his breath in a low mutter. This was fine. It was fine. Kay wasn’t even home. Wouldn’t be for hours.

Paris straightened his posture and tilted his head back, collapsing once again against the back of the couch. Breath through gritted teeth. It was fine. He had spoken it into existence. It would be fine. He was fine. One last fix wasn’t going to kill him. Not after everything else. This was mild. Quiet night in. Recovery.

Except he knew he was kidding himself there.

Roughly wiping away tears that had not yet fallen, he leant forward on the couch and picked up the clear ziploc. He hardly had time to think as he emptied some of the powdered contents onto the screen of his phone. But he left more than half in the bag. Because this was his last pick up. Because any more would prove he wasn’t recovering.

Paris got to his feet, almost tripping over a discarded hoodie on the floor as he skimmed the pile of DVDs next to the TV. He pulled out a dog-eared copy of Saw III. A movie Kay vehemently refused to rewatch. Written it off as shock value torture porn. Paris slotted the half empty ziploc bag behind the disk and tried to return it to the stack, knocking half of them to the floor in the process.

Compared to the rest of the apartment, the mess was minimal. He’d deal with it later. Before Kay got back.

One glance back at the table, and Paris’ initial focus returned. He stepped over the hoodie on the floor this time and stared down at the screen of his phone. This was just – it was just something to take his edge off. Push some of the itching thoughts back to where they belonged. Maybe the late night trip wasn’t a blaring warning sign. It was proof he had pushed back against the waves of intensity all day. ‘All day.’ After he had run out at five yesterday morning. After passing out in bed from pure exhaustion what must have been minutes before Kay woke. Dealing with the worst of a brutal comedown.

If he’d lasted that long, maybe he could force through another few hours? Then Kay would be home and – Paris banished the idea quickly. Lasting this long was mere proof that he could quit whenever he wanted to. And that wasn’t tonight.

He took one of the loose bills from the table and pressed it over the powder on his phone screen, before taking Cami’s card in his other hand. Slightly too flimsy. But whatever. Paris slowly dragged the card across the top of the bill, breaking up any impurities in the substance. He removed the bill and tapped the card against the screen to target larger clumps, before replacing the bill.

He proceeded to repeat this several times before putting the bill to the side. Paris was methodical, focus drawn into the familiar routine. Even the action itself brought a warm sense of comfort. With continued precision, he separated the powder into several distinct lines. It contrasted the black of the phone screen in a way Paris would only be able to describe as satisfying. Clean.

Paris picked the twenty dollar bill back up from the table and rolled it up, tight and even. Like he had done it thousands of times before. And that probably wouldn’t be an exaggeration. He pressed a finger to each nostril and inhaled in quick succession before bringing the note to his nose. Paris leant forward and sharply exhaled, before inhaling with the end of the note pressed to the first line of powder.

Within moments, the sharp taste hit the back of his throat. Distinct bitter petrol. Familiar. A sign of a better emotional state on the horizon, no matter how brief the respite would be. Paris waited for a few minutes before he got up from the couch and took off his coat, hanging it back in the hall. A futile effort to hide his late night walk from Kay. Because Kay would know. No matter how careful Paris was.

Not that it mattered. It was a problem for later, Paris had already decided. Kay would understand, they could talk tomorrow. Kay would get back from work, they would talk. Paris vaguely remembered Kay saying he had a couple of days off. And they could make the most of those few days. A date. Movie. Drive out to a trail – a hike. Picnic, maybe. Paris smiled faintly to himself as he sat back on the couch.

It would be good. He’d get the apartment back into a reasonable state tonight, and they could have tomorrow. And the next day. His heart pounded in his chest – in his throat. This was fine. Good, even. What had he even been thinking before? Kay wouldn’t leave him. They weren’t on the verge of a catastrophic collapse. Kay wouldn’t hurt him like that.

The hours passed into the early morning. The earlier morning, as daylight began to emerge from the outside world into the apartment. Fractured rays of sun illuminated the mess of an apartment – somehow in a worse state than Paris had dared consider. The beginnings of a headache brought his attention back to the phone on the table.

He should text Kay. Apologise. Beg for some semblance of forgiveness. Swear to clean the apartment tomorrow. Convince Kay not to walk out on him. Because he would.

It wasn’t worth it to stick around.

It took everything Paris had to pick up the phone, dragging a finger across it to collect the last dusting of powder. He pressed it against his gums and unlocked the phone with his other hand, pulling up Kay’s contact.

A text would make everything worse. Paris dumped the phone back onto the table and stood up. Kay would be home soon, and Paris had to sleep this off before he got home. Just an hour. Two.

The only incriminating remnants from the night before were the card Cami had given him and the bills on the table. Plus a takeout box of fries. Still full. He hadn’t been able to stomach the thought of eating, despite the hunger pangs that had emerged through the night. How they were clawing at his stomach, only quelled by sheer nausea. Paris took the money and business card as he stumbled towards the bedroom – a combination of the drink, drugs and plain old sleep deprivation causing his unsteadiness. He tossed everything into the nightstand drawer and almost collapsed into his side of the bed. The thought of undressing – even so much as taking off his shoes – didn’t occur to him as he fell into a restless sleep.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ » next

#whump #whump snippet #emotional whump #whump blog #whump writing #hurt/comfort #Bad Things Happen Bingo #Addiction/Withdrawal #OC: Paris Elswood #OC: Kay Edwards #OC: Cami #OC: Aiden #WIP: Chasing Midnights #mine #i abandoned this blog in october 2023 and this is the first thing i think i've written since then #pretty sure i got hit by the ao3 a/n curse so here's the lore dump #in no particular order over the last year and idk how many months i:#got accepted into uni and moved away from home #then got kicked out of uni and moved back home (i did nothing wrong i swear)#had a fling with a band guy double my age while he was touring and lived out my y/n dreams #got two cats via the cat distribution system #took a weekend trip with a guy i'd never met in person #only to find out he was on bail for multiple things and probably engaged to a girl in japan #had surgery and now only have 203 bones so rip to my scaphoid lunate and triquetrum you will not be missed #also won the ticket war for eras and queued for like ten hours for barrier #somehow managed to survive my feral and reckless party girl era and not get arrested (so far)#and proceeded to do zero writing through any of it #uhh i don't even know what real tags are any more #but my life is back on track now apparently

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coricomile · 7 months ago

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It is so very early in the 10-episode run of Thailand's adaptation of Addicted Heroin to give a flat statement on how the story is and will be presented. But so far, it's... cute. Like a lot of Thai productions are. (Please take away the 1980s cartoon soundboard from all the editors forever, especially for the Serious Plot Dramas.)

One of the main leads is 17 years old as of release. So, figure 15-16 while filming in a country where 20 is the age of majority. So everything gets (or should get) an immediate slap down for rating at the cost of the meat of the story. I'd rather have a 25 year old play 16 than either sanitize the material or have an actual teenager simulate sex on screen.

Look, I am all for Freedom of Plot and Fantasy and Exploration in fiction. I'm also a person who doesn't pretend that kids at 12 and 13 years old don't have skewed brand new sexual feelings that are being explored, usually through word-of-mouth rumors through other kids or porn, and experience so, so much shame about being curious about the absolutely very basic human drive to fuck.

Dicks get hard, pussies get wet. It's a natural thing. It's biology. But it's scary for the first time and every moment you're told it's Wrong, especially if you're queer. It should be explained and explored or it will combust into something poisionus, which is the whole point of Addicted. Two scarred and damaged teenagers obsessed over each other to the point of kidnapping because anything less doesn't feel like it's enough.

The 15 episodes of the Chinese version before it got the chop was dirty and messy from the plot beats to the filming. The Chinese version is full of "dirty" shots referring to the lingering lines and shadows of Bai Lou Yin or Gu Hai in the corners of each other's closeups, and also the grit that came from 2015/16 cameras.

Bai Lou Yin washes the blood off Gu Hai's shirt because Gu Hai nearly beat someone unconscious. You see the blood exploding on him. It's a visual metaphor. He didn't want these feelings, but they're present and vicious. Bai Luo Yin scrubbing them out is the start of a reluctant relationship between him and Gu Hai and also him and Auntie.

Hero has a mediocre punch and Pop mentions the invisible blood stains on his shirt and Auntie still comes to the rescue, but Hero's shirt was clean already. Everything is filmed so clean. The shots both inside and out of the convenience store (which will undoubtedly be a place of time filler instead of actual dirty, ugly plot, because proximity was never the problem and focusing on Pop's side job has nothing to do with him at all) are so, so bright and clean.

Addicted Heroin is ugly on purpose. This isn't supposed to be a pretty story. It's supposed to hurt. "Hai-Lou-Yin"/Heroin" was a major part of them. It's why "Heroin" is part of the title. They are the drug. They are the problem.

And now, "Hero" and.... "Pop". There's the slim chance that "Poppy" may get a nod to opium- Heroin- but I'm already unsure if this is willing to even bring up the idea of an actual unhealthy addiction. Which is the whole point!

Also. The fight at the beginning is a fake out puppy boyfriend being happy his boyfriend/fiance is home. There will be no conflict or the conflict will be shoehorned in at the last moment.

#addicted heroin #addicted heroin thailand #thai bl #chinese bl #also today i realized i graduated high school 17 years ago and i HATE it #the on1y one is feeling more like the source material #blah blah nickles and etc #japan save me #you are the only one willing to Go There #also only being into tiger from the jump and being the proactive aggressor is a choice that was made #hate the names and the dynamic 🙃

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