#like if i translate the line it would make sense in english

[woefulstar]

sometimes id read a marauders fanfic with Indian james and wish i didn't understand hindi

[mintypsii]

dekho mujhay urdu mein lineay marne nahi aati meri taraf mat dekho yeh sanji ki galti hai

[britneyshakespeare]

So yesterday I read "Slimed with Gravy, Ringed by Drink" by Camille Ralphs, an article from the Poetry Foundation on the publication of the First Folio in 1623, a major work without which most of Shakespeare's plays might very well have been lost today, possibly the most influential secular work of literature in the world, you know.

It's a good article overall on the history and mysteries of the Folio. Lots of interesting stuff in there including how Shakespeare has been adapted, the state of many surviving Folios, theories of its accuracy to the text, a really interesting identification of John Milton's own copy currently in the Free Library of Philadelphia, and the fascinating annotations that may have influenced Milton's own poetry!!! Do read it. It's not an atrociously long article but there's a lot of thought-provoking information in there.

There's one paragraph in particular I keep coming back to though, so I'm just gonna quote it down here:

...[T]he Play on Shakespeare series, published by ACMRS Press, the publications division of the Arizona Center for Medieval and Renaissance Studies at Arizona State University... grew out of the Oregon Shakespeare Festival’s plan to “translate” Shakespeare for the current century, bills itself “a new First Folio for a new era.” The 39 newly-commissioned versions of Shakespeare’s plays were written primarily by contemporary dramatists, who were asked to follow the reasonable principle laid out by series editor Lue Douthit: tamper in the name of clarification but submit to “do no harm.” The project was inspired by something the linguist John McWhorter wrote in 1998: “[the] irony today is that the Russians, the French, and other people in foreign countries possess Shakespeare to a much greater extent than we do … [because] they get to enjoy Shakespeare in the language they speak.”

Mainly it's the John McWhorter thing I keep coming back to. Side note: any of my non-native-English-speaking mutuals who have read Shakespeare, I would love to know your experiences. If you have read him in translation, or in the original English, or a mix of both. It's something I do wonder about! Even as an Anglophone reader, I find my experience varies so much just based on which edition of the text I'm reading and how it's presented. There's just so much variety in how to read literature and I would love to know what forces have shaped your own relationships to the stories. But anyway...

The article then goes on to talk about how the anachronistic language in Shakespeare will only fall more and more out of intelligibility for everyone because of how language evolves and yadda yadda yadda. I'm not going to say that that's wrong but I think it massively overlooks the history of the English language and how modern standard English became modern standard English.

First of all, is Shakespeare's language completely unintelligible to native English speakers today? No. Certain words and grammatical tenses have fallen out of use. Many words have shifted in meaning. But with context aiding a contemporary reader, there are very few lines in Shakespeare where the meaning can be said to be "unknown," and abundant lines that are perfectly comprehensible today. On the other hand, it's worth mentioning how many double entendres are well preserved in modern understanding. And additionally, things like archaic grammar and vocabulary are simply hurdles to get over. Once you get familiarized with your thees and thous, they're no longer likely to trip you up so much.

But it's also doubtful that 400 years from now, as the article suggests, our everyday language will be as hard to understand for twenty-fifth century English speakers to comprehend. The English language has significantly stabilized due to colonialism and the international adoption of English as a lingua franca. There are countless dialects within English, but what we consider to be standard international "correct" English will probably not change so radically, since it is so well and far established. The development and proliferation of modern English took a lot of blood and money from the rest of the world, the legacy of which can never be fully restored.

And this was just barely in sight by the time that Shakespeare died. This is why the language of the Elizabethans and Jacobeans is early-modern English. It forms the foundations of modern English, hence why it's mostly intelligible to speakers today, but there are still many antiquated figures within it. Early-modern English was more fluid and liberal. Spelling had not been standardized. Many regions of England still had slight variations in preferences for things like pronouns and verb conjugation. We see this even in works Shakespeare cowrote with the likes of Fletcher and Middleton, as the article points out. Shakespeare's vocabulary may not just reflect style and sentiment, but his Stratford background. His preferences could be deemed more "rustic" than many of his peers reared in London.

Features that make English more consistent now were not formalized yet. That's why Shakespeare sounds so "old." It's not just him being fancy. And there's also the fact that blank verse plays are an entirely neglected art nowadays. Regardless of the comprehensibility of the English, it's still strange for modern audiences uninitiated to Elizabethan literature to sit there and watch a King drop mad poetry about his feelings on stage by himself. The form and style of the entire genre is off.

But that, to me, is why we should read Shakespeare. We SHOULD be challenged. It very much IS within the grasp of a literate adult fluent in English to read one of his plays, in a modern edition with proper assistance and context. It is GOOD to be acquainted with something unfamiliar to us, but within our reach. I'm serious. I do not think I'm so much smarter than everyone else because I read Shakespeare. I don't just read the plain text as it was printed in the First Folio! The scholarship exists which has made Shakespeare accessible to me, and I take advantage of that access for my own pleasure.

This is to say that I disagree with the notion that Shakespeare is better suited to be enjoyed in foreign tongues. I think that's quite a complacent, modern American take. Not to say that the sentiment of McWhorter is wrong; I get what he's saying. And it's quite a beautiful thing that Shakespeare's plays are still so commonly staged, although arguably that comes from a false notion in our culture that Shakespeare is high literature worth preserving, at the expense of the rest of time and history. It is true that his body of work has such a high level of privilege in the so-called Western literary canon that either numerous other writers equally deserve, or no writer ever could possibly deserve.

The effort that goes into making Shakespeare's twenty-first century legacy, though, is a half-assed one. So much illustrious praise and deification of the individual and his works, and yet not as much to understanding the context of his time and place, of his influences, forms, and impacts on the eras which proceeded him. Shakespeare seems to exist in a vacuum with his archaic language, and we read it once or twice in high school when we're forced to, with prosaic translations on the adjoining page. This does not inspire a true appreciation in a culture for Shakespeare but it does reinforce a stereotype that he must be somehow important. It's this shallow stereotype that makes it seem in many minds today that it would be worth it to rip the precise language out of the text of a poet, and spit back out an equivalent "modern translation."

[whatudottu]

It's been a bit since I've rambled about xenobiology headcanons, and this time because I've been thinking about Andreas I thought today's edition would be about talpaedans, seeing as how I made a list that I haven't put into a post yet-

Let's go!

Between all members of talpaedan youth and development, there is an innate basic understanding of construction, as comparable to human's ability to recognise patterns and facial language (give or take a few neurodivergencies). And specific construction comprehension is linked to whatever tool talpaedan youth are integrated in, which develops over time based on what materials are consumed (a diet of concrete may make cement mixers, or a diet that requires a lot of digging may develop jackhammers) as well of course the genes of the parent/s.

And on to that 'parent/s' thing, let's bring up haplodiplody again.

On Earth, haplodiplody is the system where one sex is developed from a fertilised egg (which tends to be the females) and thus are diploid with DNA of the mother and father, while the other sex is from an unfertilised egg (males would technically be the result of asexual reproduction) and thus is only haploid with only the mother providing DNA. Talpaedans are not an Earth species, but functionally that is the basis of their sex-determination, where females would be best translated as architects and males best translated as tradies, which in of itself is rather contextually slang in English.

And even with haplodiplody, talpaedans still have a bimodal sex distribution, though tradies are neither part of the equation. Instead, fertilised eggs though typically expected to produce architects also just as often produce workers, non-reproducing talpaedan youths that are born an raised to be the most common labourers of the colony they were born under and never leave the hive, as opposed to architects who work higher profile jobs and are in line to be promoted to site queens, and tradies who pre-war were lower rung workers who took to training younglings for work as well as in general raising them. Being bimodal it's not a perfect list of traits to be considered as either an architect or a worker, though there is a bias towards architects being able to reproduce as that would be the key factor needed in promotion. Tradies that are infertile or more characteristically architects would be considered workers and are more of a consequence of asexual reproduction and the lack of genetic diversity.

Talpaedan gender has been typically correlated with sex throughout most Poiana Lüncas colonies, with the architects being the talpaedan equivalent for women and tradies as the talpaedan equivalent for men, but workers have a more diverse gender identity even in more conservative colonies, either being a third gender or having men and women and in between identities being formally acknowledged as such in worker populations. There might be a few general issues about identity especially among architects and tradies, but colonies are less focused on the individual and most of their aggression is directed to other colonies rather than it's own population.

It is this tension towards other colonies that had eventually and near inevitably sent Poiana Lüncas into many wars, though the most recent one had been the worst and the last in many years, a war that fundamentally changed how intercolonial relationships worked. A very large colony had been expanding it's borders to accrue even more resources for it's ever growing population, in turn threatening the smaller colonies on it's outer borders, elevating tensions to an all time high. The whole shtick lasted for years until a few colonies realised that alone no one could stop this large megacolony from wiping out each of them one by one, but through an alliance they could stand together and beat the ever loving crap out of the aggressor.

And how their alliance worked was through the sharing of resources and ensuring the protection of youths especially, and so began the first war-era runs of arranged 'marriages' as tradies live up to their name in a more eh... dubious sense. By sending in tradies (who's lower rung work was mining for resources and food) from colonies not on the front line, the colonies along the border had assurances that their home had well fed and well protected populations - as well as a general diverting of power - to beat back the aggressor colony and in fact not only raze it to the ground, but dug it completely out and functionally turned it into a mass grave reeking of death; No Queen's Land it would later be named, for no surviving members of the colony were left alive to name it after themselves.

With a combination of a clearly war-created desert and the whole 'ant death smell' thing that exists in ants aka the big inspiration for my talpaedan headcanons, makes No Queen's Land an omen that trade routes never cross, instead creating what would be a ring road surrounding the outer reaches of the ex-colony that would direct trade routes through the border colonies one by one. Direct trade or travel between the colonies on complete opposite sides of the pock marked, crater desert is both impossible and otherwise detested by Queens and the architects responsible for trade routes, instead being a multicolonial multigenerational process that circles the border colonies until reaching the 'opposite side of the world'.

To this day (or at least to the day that exists universally in the moment that Andreas would consider a 'this day') the trade routes affect the lives of tradies post-war. Instead of being completely locked to the hive like workers and architects, tradies at a certain age are sent to travel in as both tradesmen and concubines to whatever colony they have been raised for, a fact that had been determined early on at the development of their tools and the needs of the recipient colony. The host colony would arrange their young to be raised by tradies that once came from their own host colony, determined by their last name of [birth colony-trade colony] (as opposed to architects and workers whose last names are simply [birth colony]) in order to be raised as bilingual to understand the majority language of their trade colony and to be an example of the future youth they would need to raise speaking their birth colony's language.

Andreas was on one such trade route when Aggregor snatched the talpaedan for materials in functionally a fusion experiment, being part of a group about to be married off to a queen, an architect or as a working tradie, technically 'divorcing' the deal when Andreas was stolen away. Considering that Poiana Lüncas isn't the most peaceful environmentally, the trade routes also serve as a double use, a sharing of resources and a preventative measure for overpopulation. I mean, a colony would be pissed if absolutely none of their trade gets to them - probably spark a conflict that may get hairy - but losing numbers is an expected consequence. Andreas doesn't expect anyone to particularly care that they're missing the one or few talpaedans that disappeared in the night, especially with the generally large number a trade route sends, and Aggregor isn't going to take out a whole line of talpaedans just to get to one; a simple 'cutting off from the group' works fine enough.

And one final thing to note, now more focused on Andreas as an individual rather than talpaedans as a species. I've mentioned death smell and thought to bring it up here since, if you've seen my stuff before or straight up follow me (for my rambling or long enough to see my rambling), I love stealing @kariachi's necromancer Argit and the whole idea of him killing, healing, and reviving Andreas in the titular episode Andreas' Fault. I looked up how ant death smell works and apparently it's a constant thing that's only combated by a constant flow of life smell, so with a brief touch of death even if Andreas doesn't REEK of death, a talpaedan would probably suspect Andreas stepped into No Queen's Land and got cursed by something. But for those of y'all buried deep enough in my rambling would be confused; 'if one can smell actual literal death and associate it as actual literal death why doesn't Andreas at least even slightly suspect the idea of being briefly dead when the castle crashed?'

Well babes, you know what's an easy simple solution for this? Andreas is anosmic :D! Of course Andreas would be the last to know, Andreas' would have no frame of reference for what a 'death smell' is. Could even be how Aggregor got Andreas separated, if everyone else can smell death smell they might notice the fact that No Queen's Land reeks of the stuff. Not a great way to find out that one is anosmic admittedly, but I mean if Ra'ad is finding out that among the many neurodivergencies he does have much of his overstimulated suffering is magic and mutation that he thought every other amperi had to deal with because you find out your husband died and now has a magical mind barrier well...

Okay okay, one more final note. Given that Andreas is a tradie, Andreas's full name would be [birth colony]-Andromeda after the name Andreas actually gets married into because Earth and especially English dominated areas of Earth like last names. And I guess if Andreas gets adopted into any Earth-based packs thanks to being attached to Argit like a puppy you can shove in another last name like [birth colony]-[pack]-Andromeda.

This has been in my notes since August woops-

[longagoitwastuesday]

you seem to have a wide taste in books !! what are some books that you would recommend ??

Hmmm I wonder. I have the feeling I just read the same couple of books over and over, and at times only different iterations of the same story, like in that line by Borges ("the various intonations of a few metaphors").

I find recommending books without knowing anything at all about the person asking rather difficult. What I'd suggest to one may differ greatly from what I'd recommend to someone else. I'll give a list of some of my favourite books that I think are enjoyable in general:

— Thoughts by Pascal

— Cain: a mystery by Lord Byron

— The Iliad by Homer

— Crime and Punishment by Dostoievsky

— Othello by Shakespeare

— Pedro Páramo by Juan Rulfo

— Cyrano de Bergerac by Edmond Rostand

— The fragments of the Presocratics

— La Regenta by Leopoldo Alas, Clarín

— Tractatus Logico-philosophicus by Wittgenstein

— East of Eden by John Steinbeck

— Vita nova by Dante

— Contributions to the Founding of the Theory of Transfinite Numbers by Georg Cantor

— Caligula by Albert Camus

— North and South by Elizabeth Gaskell

— Peter Pan by J. M. Barrie

— Some essays by Russell. I personally love Mysticism and Logic

— Metamorphoses by Ovid

Poetry is perhaps harder to recommend because at times it translates horribly, but in general I love Baudelaire, Rimbaud, Lorca, Juan Ramón Jiménez, Rilke, Byron, Quevedo, Góngora, Lope de Vega, Horace, Catullus, Ovid, Tennyson, Maiakovsky, Garcilaso de la Vega, Oliverio Girondo, Vicente Huidobro, Emily Brontë, T. S. Eliot, Luis Cernuda and Edgar Allan Poe, to name a few.

[randomdragonfires]

Parallel Lines, Act I

Text Divider by @saradika-graphics

SUMMARY | He fears her proximity, and she fears his distance. As war looms, they’ll have to learn to make their marriage work to find comfort in each other.

Or at least, try.

PAIRING | Aemond Targaryen x Wife!Reader

WARNINGS | 18+; SMUT; Angst; Complicated Relationship Themes; Emotional Negligence; Infidelity; Major Character Death; Aemond and his issues are a warning on their own ok?

AUTHOR’S NOTE | All Valyrian lines were translated from english using a free online translator. They are likely to be grammatically wrong - but I don’t even know man. Yeah.

WORD COUNT | 9.5k - and not a single word is beta read. We die like warriors, I guess?

The moonlight spilled through the series of windows of her husband’s - not theirs, his - apartments in the Red Keep, casting a silvery glow over the austere elegance of the chambers. His wife stood by the window, her silhouette framed against the backdrop of the night sky, the soft rustle of her gown the only sound in the otherwise silent room.

She turned slowly, her gaze sweeping across the dimly lit interior, taking in the cool, stone walls that seemed to absorb the flickering torchlight. She glided through the hall where intricate tapestries depicted dragons in flight, their scales shimmering with threads of gold and silver. The grand fireplace dominated one wall, the warmth emanating throughout the space from the burning logs within. She folded her arms into her chest, as if to preserve the heat as she shivered from the cold night - her thin nightdress didn’t help. Above the mantelpiece, Vhagar's fierce eyes followed her every movement, a fierce presence in paint.

Moving through the chambers, she passed through his personal library, every page a stern reflection of his interests. Shelves of dark, polished wood lined the walls, filled with ancient tomes and scrolls, their faint scent of aged parchment and leather permeating the air.

He mostly smelled of smoke, fire and leather. Of books and dragons - both of which he is passionate about.

It makes sense then, that no one will ever catch a whiff of her perfume on him.

They were far from passionate, after all.

In the center, his heavy, ornately carved desk was strewn with maps and documents, a well-used quill and inkwell ready for his expert hand to wield. She leaned on the table to look at it all, and spun one of the wooden markers between her nimble fingers for a moment - as she had seen him do countless times - before leaving it back where she found it.

She stepped into the bedchamber, its stark stone walls softened by the rich, crimson fabrics of the large, canopied bed. Dragons were subtly woven into the bedspread and curtains, a constant reminder of the Targaryen lineage that she had married and given birth to.

How long has it been since she laid with him on this bed? More than a year, she surmised. They did their duty on their wedding night, and the Mother was graceful enough to make his seed quicken in her immediately. She laid with him for a few weeks after - and when the maesters made it known that she was with child, that had stopped.

A good wife knows how to keep her husband satisfied, they said. Her husband never sought her out. If the whispers of the few around her were to be believed, he frequents a whore in a Silk Street brothel.

Was she not a good wife then?

She gave him a son. He may be sickly, but he is a son nonetheless. Surely it must count?

With a weary sigh, her eyes shifted to the adjoining armory, where Aemond’s armor and weapons were meticulously displayed. This part of his room exuded an air of readiness, a silent promise of the warrior who would soon return to his space.

From the whorehouse, no doubt.

She turned back to the window, her thoughts as fluid as the shimmering waves below. The apartments were a microcosm of her husband's existence: regal yet austere, scholarly yet martial.

And no sign of marriage, leave alone happy or healthy. How could there be, when he doesn’t feel half the happiness with her that he does when left alone with his beast or books?

There was no hate between them, surely not. Her husband was agreeable, but that was that. There was never any doubt in her mind that he did not want her - or the idea of her - but had to marry her anyway. There was no passion, and she could count with two hands the number of times they have lain with each other in the past year that they have been married - even that was before she had become with child.

There was nothing, truly.

She tried with him, initially. But any illusion of interest that she thought he may grow towards her was shattered the moment she heard that the very night that she’d met him, he was seen moving out of the castle grounds and into the Street of Silk.

He didn’t even bother with making it discreet.

Their wedding was a morose affair. They were the very picture of a royal couple, but neither felt the part - more like a pair of chastised children made to listen after a screaming bout. Even when he took her, he took her from behind - and she was fully clothed. It was nowhere close to the slow exploration that some of her ladies promised. He’s a scholar, he’d be willing to learn for your pleasure, they had said. He’d not even kissed her after their wedding ceremony, not once - he simply demanded that she get on the bed, and took her like an animal while the Small Council and their families watched her eyes pool with painful tears.

What had she done to warrant such embarrassment? She didn’t know what she’d done to make him shirk her so, but it was the way it was. It just was.

When he kept calling her back, he’d taken to offering her wine when they were finished. She didn’t linger when her goblet was emptied. She simply walked out, and wished him a good night.

He never once asked her to stay.

When the news of the babe in her belly had arrived, she’d been relieved - she’d never have to lay with a man who did not want her, ever again. He didn’t seem overjoyed either, and simply hummed with a hand on her belly.

“There is blood of the dragon in you now,” he said. And then he let his thumb run over her cheek. It was the softest he’d ever been with her, and she relished those few seconds. For a moment, he looked so peaceful and content… a stranger. That’s when it occurred to her that perhaps there’s more to Aemond than what he lets anyone see.

She could have fallen in love with him, if he’d cared enough to show her. But it seemed that he’d only viewed her as a duty and a burden.

The ghost of his touch lingered, and she brought her own hand to her cheek as though the warmth still remained. What did the whores have that she did not? Or was it the same whore each time?

Jealousy is unbecoming of a princess, she reminded herself. But so is unhappiness and a constant sense of dread, surely?

Her thoughts were interrupted as the door swung open. Her husband strode into the room, immediately aware of her presence. She felt the shift in the air and watched as the shadows of his boots slow, absorbing the sight of her. He removed his cloak with a fluid motion, letting it fall onto his chair before approaching her with the deliberate grace of a predator.

“Wife.” His voice was clipped and devoid of warmth, as though addressing a servant rather than the mother of his son.

She turned to face him, the pale moonlight highlighting the tension etched across her features. "Husband," she responded, mirroring his tone, though a flicker of hurt glimmers in her eyes.

Do you think of me as I think of you? Do you think of me at all?

A heavy silence settled between them, thick with unspoken words. Her gaze scanned his face, searching for any trace of the man whom she foolishly once thought would love her. Instead, she found only the cold mask he wore, a fortress against the world and his own buried emotions.

Against her.

“Has the council kept you long?” she asked, her voice steady despite the turmoil within. They both looked outside the windows, with her leaning into the railing while he stood with his hands held back, ramrod straight.

Always on guard.

“Long enough,” he replied, his eyes drifting to the dark expanse of the bay. “There are matters that require my attention.”

“And our son?” she asked, a touch of warmth infusing her words at the mention of their child. “Will you see Aerys tonight?”

For a brief moment, something softened in Aemond’s gaze, a fleeting shadow of tenderness. She must have imagined it - it was too fleeting and quick to hold any kind of weight.

She was jealous of her own son, for he elicits more from Aemond than she ever has, as little as it is.

“Perhaps. If time allows.”

She nodded, turning back to look at him; to see him.

The weight of his indifference settled over her like a shroud. The Blackwater Bay stretches out before them, vast and unchanging, mirroring the growing distance between them.

“I worry for you,” she murmured, her voice almost swallowed by the night. “War will come to us soon, will it not?” If it hadn’t come so far, she knew it would now. Vaemond Velaryon’s rolling head and King Viserys’ worsening condition only made sure of it.

He stood rigid beside her, his posture unyielding. “It is my duty,” he said, as if that alone suffices.

“I know,” she replied, sadness threading through her voice. “But you are more than your duty, Aemond. You are Aerys’ father and my…”

The emotions were high tonight, higher than they’d ever been. She didn’t know why she sought him out. There has been ample evidence to support that he would not care, and yet here she was.

She wanted safety, and the only person she could approach is the one who has never made her feel welcome or safe in any capacity.

Who else do I have here?

The tears mangle her vision and she swallowed what threatened to follow.

“I have given you a son.” She trembled, her voice threatening to give way to s stream of tears. “The shadow of war looms upon us, and you’ve set me aside and I worry…”

He lifted his head just slightly as the words sank in, but she was too dejected to care about his acknowledgement. He may be cold, and his reactions to her come far and few in between - but she could not bring herself to mull over it too at the moment.

“War is coming. I am as certain of it as I am of the sun rising on the morrow and I know you are too -” He opened his mouth to interfere, but she was quick to not give him the gap to take over her speech. “Do not insult my intelligence by suggesting otherwise.”

“I was not.”

She turned to face him, a whirlwind of emotions swirling in her eyes as she wondered why the Gods had not seen fit to give her a husband who loved her. He was beautiful, a cruel irony that made her anger flare even more. Despite all the hurt he had caused, she could not help but feel drawn to him. To hide her tears, she looked to the floor, trembling as she forced out her next words.

“I know you do not love me. I know you do not want me. But I… I have given you a son. An heir to continue your legacy, and that… I like to think that it would be reason enough to ask you to not forsake me. We have not supported each other all this time, but the least you can do is assure me that you will keep us safe.”

A flicker of something unrecognizable flashed in his eye, and he turned to face her fully, leaning against the window arch. “Did you… truly think that I would leave you to die if it came down to it?”

“You haven’t given me reason to believe that you’ll want me around.” Her voice was bitter, dripping with contempt.

He was ethereal as he reached out, holding her jaw between his thumb and finger, bringing her closer to his porcelain skin and alabaster hair. Her gaze flitted about chaotically, struggling to meet his eye. Her body shivered from the cold, torn between wanting him to let her go and needing him to hold her tight.

“You are my wife. I swore to the Gods that I would honor and protect you. You and Aerys are my family, and I would be slain a hundred times over before I see either of you hurt. I may not be… I may not be the man you want, but I can assure you that I am an honorable husband who will safeguard you and our boy.”

She did not know what she expected. A declaration of hidden love? Certainly not. But somehow, his assurances fell short. “Honorable.” She tested the word on her tongue, finding it the most bitter sound she had ever uttered. Her cheek alarmed him, and she spat venom. “Honorable?” His grip on her chin tightened, and she took it as a sign to continue.

“I know you frequent the Silk Street brothels. I know you’ve been going there since the very first day we met. Unless the professions of whores have changed, it is safe to assume that you are not honorable or loyal. And if you are, it is certainly not to me.”

A whore out there enjoyed her husband’s undying devotion, while she sat in the castle hoping and praying he would recognize her, let alone love her.

His expression shifted, a storm brewing behind his eyes, but he did not release her. The weight of her words hung heavy in the air, a chasm of pain pulling them apart. She met his intense gaze finally, tears brimming in her eyes, the anguish of their fractured bond laid bare for him to see.

He tasted of smoke and fire, and yet her mouth craved him anyway. He was an eternity away from her—always, always—and yet her fingers yearned to touch him.

“I do not go there for…” He took a long breath before completing his sentence, almost as if he needed his composure to simply survive.

Not there for what? Was he not fucking the whores? What else could he possibly do?

“Do you think I do not know the sacrifices you have made?” His voice was a harsh whisper, a mixture of anger and something deeper, almost pleading. “Do you think I do not feel the weight of our shared duty, the responsibility to our son? My responsibility to you?”

“But you have never shown me,” she whispered back, her voice breaking. “You have never given me a reason to believe that you care, that you see me as more than just a broodmare for an heir!"

For a moment, they stood frozen, the distance between them both physical and emotional. The moonlight casted a cold glow over their figures, highlighting the stark contrast between their proximity and their separation.

“It is not easy for me.”

“It should not be hard to love your wife. Or at the very least respect her.”

“I—”

She brought her hand up to stop him before any more of his lies spewed out and stepped away from him. She walked to the door at an amazing speed, her skirts swishing past as she tried to get out before her tears spilled out. In a late change of heart though, as her hand rested on the door latch, she turned.

“No lady should beg her husband to love her. No matter if he is a prince. It is beneath her, and I am no different. I will not beg…” If she had looked at him properly, she’d have noticed him flinch at her damning words.

“I will not beg you to love me after dismissing me all this time; I do have my pride. But I will beg you to save my life if it needs saving. That is all I ask.”

“You never had to ask.”

She took a breath and drank some leftover wine in the goblet next to her, not caring for whose it originally was. The thought would make her retch usually, but she was beyond caring.

“Your mother… she loves me surely, but I think she doesn’t like me very much. Your sister and I never managed to understand each other. Your brother… well he is a mindless lecher. I can’t quite figure out your grandfather at all. And you… you know what we’re like. I just… I worry that in this impending war within kin, I will be forgotten and left to die simply because my job is done with the birth of my son and I am too close to the storm and you don’t care and I don’t want to die. I don’t want anyone to die-”

“You are my kin.” he said. It made her smile, albeit a woeful one. “You may need to remind me every once in a while.”

He didn’t respond. She simply left.

And even now, he didn’t ask her to stay.

She wished he did.

Aemond stood by the hearth, cradling their feverish son in his arms. 

Dressed in his somber blacks, he looked every bit the stern warrior, yet the gentle way he held Aerys belied that image. The babe was flushed and fretful, his tiny hands gripping Aemond’s hair and tugging insistently. Aemond hissed softly at the sharp pull, but did not dislodge the child's grip.

“Byka zaldrīzes,” he grumbles. It is strict, but not unaffectionate - she was familiar with that tone. She’d watched him use it with their son often when he thought no one was looking. [Little dragon.]

From the doorway, she watched them. They looked like a loving family - the devoted mother standing watch, her eyes filled with affection as she observed her husband and son. But appearances were deceiving, and both of them knew the truth beneath the surface.

Aerys, in his restless state, grabbed at Aemond’s eyepatch, tugging it down and exposing the scarred, empty socket. Aemond’s expression tightened as he shifted the boy from one arm to the other, quickly adjusting the patch back into place. In that brief moment, their eyes met, and she glimpsed the vulnerability he so meticulously hid. He seemed to close himself off even more, as if shielding his heart from her gaze.

It was a deep, almost dark blue. She noticed, she always noticed.

“I came to check on him before luncheon,” she said softly, breaking the silence that had settled like a heavy shroud. She always ensured that she made a solitary routine of her visits, ensuring that he’d have time alone with her son like he seemed to want. To be together - as a family - stumped her beyond belief, no matter how second nature it should be.

What was he doing here?

Aemond nodded, his voice measured as he recounted the maester's instructions. “The maester believes he will grow healthy with time. We must be diligent with the poultices and draughts.” His tone was clinical, as if discussing a strategy for battle rather than the wellbeing of their son.

She watched as he laid Aerys gently in the cot, the child’s feverish grip slackening as he drifted into a fitful sleep. She approached, brushing a strand of hair from Aerys’s forehead, her touch tender and light.

Aemond stepped back, retreating to the armchair close to the cot where a goblet of wine awaited him. He took a long sip, his gaze fixed on her as she sat at his foot, and peered in to take a look at their son. Facing away from him, she began to sing softly. Her voice, though tinged with sorrow, was soothing, and Aemond’s stern expression softened as he watched the scene unfold. For a moment, the room was filled with a fragile peace.

The Seven Gods who made us all,

are listening if we should call.

So close your eyes, you shall not fall,

they see you, little children.

Just close your eyes, you shall not fall,

they see you, little children.

She didn’t say anything and let the silence engulf them both when she finished her song. She then turned around and sat on the floor near his feet, her back leaned against her son’s cot as she looked up to face her stoic husband. After what seemed like an eternity, he spoke - his words measured but with the intent of concern. He spoke them like he was testing them out on his tongue.

“The maesters… they say you’re being given herbs as well.”

She nodded, feeling the weight of her exhaustion in every fiber of her being. The birth had been horribly hard on her body, leaving her depleted and fragile. Only now was she beginning to regain her strength. The whispers of the servants echoed in her mind—comments about how all this suffering was for a sickly child. But those whispers meant nothing to her. She would move the ends of the earth for her son, no matter what anyone thought. 

He was the blood of the dragon. Dragons do not concern themselves with the opinions of sheep, and she would not allow her son to be any different.

“Ever since the birth, I have grown… weak,” she began, her voice barely above a whisper. “Aerys took a toll on me when he came.”

Aemond’s eyes were detached, but she heard the slight concern and contemplation in his voice. “Were you in pain? In the days after?”

She hesitated for a moment, surprised by his sudden show of concern. “Yes,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “I was. I still am.”

His questions were gentle, as if he truly cared, as if he genuinely wanted to understand what she had gone through. This unexpected tenderness from him was jarring, and it took all her strength not to withdraw. She had longed for this moment for so long, the chance to finally, truly connect with the man she had married.

And now that it was here, it felt as foreign to her as the other continents of the realm.

“I should have been there,” he said, his voice laced with regret. He didn’t look at her, head turned away as he spoke.  “I should have been by you-”

She’d heard the rumors that her good mother worked hard to ensure she’d never hear. While she labored and went through all the Seven Hells giving birth to their son, Aemond was at a whorehouse, doing Gods know what.

She shook her head, her eyes filling with unshed tears. “I don’t want to know,” she interrupted, her tone gentle but firm. “I’d rather choose blissful ignorance than a painful truth. Especially when it comes to you.”

Aemond nodded slowly, regality exuding from him even in his slightest movements. “I have failed you,” he confessed, his voice almost a whisper. He did not apologize, and she knew that he never would. This was the most she would get from him, and for now, it had to be enough.

It didn’t mean that it shocked her any less.

Summoning her remaining strength, she stood and moved toward him. She leaned forward, resting her hands on the armrests of his chair, bringing herself closer to him. The curve of her breasts nearly brushed his chin, and she could feel his breath, warm and shallow, on her skin. His goblet of wine lay forgotten on a nearby desk, the contents slowly going tepid.

He looked up at her, surprise and something deeper flickering in his eye. His expression was a mixture of pain and longing, as if he too yearned for what she did. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he moved his hand and covered hers with his. His touch was tentative, as if he feared she might pull away. But she held firm, her fingers entwining with his. 

He was warm to the touch. She remembered that much from the first days of their marriage, but it felt better to be reminded of it this way. Almost as though he was tender towards her, like they never spent any time being purposefully apart from each other.

She felt like they were getting somewhere, a tentative bridge forming between their fractured hearts. Carried away by the newfound closeness, she hesitated only for a moment before reaching out, her hand trembling as it neared his face. Her fingers were delicate, soft against the rough texture of his skin as she traced the scar that marred his otherwise perfect visage.

Aemond’s breath hitched, his entire body tensing at the intimate touch. She moved slowly, her fingers gliding over the jagged lines. Her touch was feather-light, almost reverent, as if she could heal his old wounds with her tenderness.

Her eyes locked onto his, searching for any sign of discomfort or rejection. Instead, she saw vulnerability, a crack in his formidable armor that allowed her a glimpse of the man beneath the warrior’s facade. His eye, the one not covered by the patch, was wide and filled with an emotion she couldn't quite name - something between longing and fear.

With a gentle caress, her finger traced the path of the scar down to his cheekbone, lingering there for a moment before moving toward the eyepatch. She felt his breath warm against her hand, the rise and fall of his chest quickening as her fingers danced over the leather. The eyepatch was cool and rough under her touch, a stark contrast to the smoothness of his skin.

She paused, her heart pounding in her chest as she felt the tension coiling in him. Would he push her away? Would he retreat back into the cold distance that had defined their relationship for so long? But he remained still, his gaze fixed on hers, a silent permission in his eyes.

Encouraged by his silence, she allowed her fingers to explore the edges of the eyepatch, feeling the worn leather against her skin. Her thumb brushed over the strap that held it in place, her touch gentle and soothing. He shivered, a barely perceptible tremor that ran through him, and she felt a surge of something warm and hopeful rise within her.

His reaction was slow, almost imperceptible. He closed his eye briefly, as if savoring the sensation, then opened it to meet her gaze again. She could see the conflict within him, the struggle between the desire to protect himself and the yearning for this rare moment of intimacy.

She moved closer, her body almost pressing against his as she continued her exploration. The curve of her breasts brushed against his chin, and she felt the heat radiating from him, the tension in his muscles. Her fingers lingered on the eyepatch, tracing the lines where it met his skin, feeling the pulse of his heartbeat beneath her touch. His hand reached up, covering hers. For a moment, the world shrank to just the two of them, suspended in a fragile, tender silence.

“Will you let me see?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

His hesitance and silence said more than his words ever could. 

The moment stretched, taut and fragile, until it seemed to snap under the weight of unspoken fears. She saw the flicker of rejection in his eye, a retreat behind the barriers he had so carefully constructed. Her face fell, the light of hope dimming as she realized she had pushed too far. But she understood; perhaps he needed more time. Withdrawing her hand, she felt the ghost of his touch linger on her skin, a burning reminder of the closeness they had almost shared.

He grasped her wrist gently, as if he wanted to ask her to stay, but the words remained unspoken. She did not want to stay unless he wholeheartedly asked her to. His grip was firm, yet she felt the reluctance in it, the silent struggle to decide whether to hold on and let go.

“I should go,” she said softly, gathering her skirts. “Your mother and sister await me at luncheon, and it would be unseemly to be late.”

He watched her walk away, her steps slow and measured, each one pulling her further from the fragile connection they had started to form. Left alone with his son, Aemond felt the weight of his failure press down on him, a cold, heavy burden that settled in his chest.

Aerys slept in the cot nearby, his tiny body trembling with each breath as if the sickness that plagued him might take him at any moment. Aemond moved his chair closer to the cot, peering down at the infant with a mixture of fear and determination. The soft tufts of silver hair marked him as undoubtedly his, a tiny mirror of his own lineage.

How many nights had she spent alone, watching over him like this? Scared that if she stepped away, Aerys may be gone?

In a quiet tone that would otherwise go unheard, he whispered to his son, his voice thick with emotion. “Ao kostagon’t tepagon bē va īlva, riñnykeā.” [You can’t give up on us, child.] After a moment of composure, he continued. “Ziry braved vīlībāzma naejot tepagon ao naejot issa. Gaomagon daor henujagon zȳhon.” [She braved battle to give you to me. Do not leave her.]

Aemond's voice trembled, the words almost breaking under the weight of his desperation. He held his son closer, cradling the tiny, fragile body against his chest. He thought of his wife's strength, the pain she had endured, and winced at the realization of how badly he had treated her. His neglect, his coldness - they had all but shattered her. 

He had done enough to her. The last thing he wanted was to see her lose Aerys too.

The dim light of the chamber cast soft shadows on Aemond's face, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw and the furrowed brow etched deep with worry. His eye, normally a piercing blue, now seemed almost muted, dulled by the depth of his concern. He reached out, placing a gentle hand on his son’s chest, feeling the weak but steady rise and fall of his breaths. Aerys stirred slightly, his tiny fingers curling around a strand of Aemond’s hair. The grip was weak, but determined.

“You are the blood of the dragon,” he continued, his voice a fierce whisper. “You will grow strong.”

The Dragonpit was packed, the air heavy with the murmurs of the gathered smallfolk and the flickering light of countless torches. She stood beside Aemond, her posture as straight and regal as she could manage, her heart pounding in her chest. The spectacle of Aegon's coronation was unfolding before her eyes, a momentous event that would shape the future of the Targaryen family.

Hers.

The ceremony began with the Grand Maester stepping forward, the crown of Aegon the Conqueror held reverently in his hands. The weight of history seemed to press down on the room, making every breath feel heavy, every movement deliberate. Aegon - looking more like a squabbling, crying child than a King - ascended the steps to the dais, his face a mask of acceptance.

And when her husband nodded to his new King, she bowed deep.

She watched as Aegon’s expression shifted from indifference to a flicker of recognition of the power now bestowed upon him. The crowd erupted in cheers, their loyalty and fervor palpable, yet she felt a pang of unease amidst the celebration.

Beside her, Aemond stood tall and vigilant, his eye never leaving the proceedings. She glanced at him, seeking comfort in his composed demeanor, his presence a steady anchor in the sea of chaos. The noise of the crowd swelled, and she could feel the anticipation hanging thick in the air, a tangible force that seemed to wrap around them all. 

Aegon, now crowned, raised Blackfyre high above his head, the ancient sword gleaming in the firelight. The sight was awe-inspiring, a symbol of power and legitimacy. Yet, beneath the grandeur, she sensed the underlying tensions and overheard the words that Helaena kept mumbling. 

There is a beast beneath the boards.

Her feet shifted, and she heard the hollow sound that the ground made when her shoe met the surface. A hollow sound that comes when feet meets -

The boards.

Suddenly, the ground beneath them trembled, a low rumble that grew into a deafening roar. Gasps of shock and fear rippled through the crowd, and she instinctively reached for Aemond’s hand. Before she could react further, the floor of the Dragonpit exploded upward, sending debris and chaos flying in all directions.

Rhaenys, astride her dragon Meleys, emerged from the smoke and dust, her presence formidable and terrifying. The dragon’s scales shimmered with an otherworldly glow, its eyes blazing with fury. The people scattered, screams of panic filling the air as the beast roared, the sound reverberating through the hall and shaking her to her core.

Her heart raced, terror gripping her as she stared at the massive dragon, its wings spreading wide, casting a shadow over the entire chamber. Aemond’s hand tightened around hers, pulling her behind him protectively. She could feel his body tense, ready to shield her from any danger. Despite the fear that threatened to overwhelm her, a faint surge of gratitude washed through.

You never had to ask.

Meleys roared again, the sound like thunder, and the heat of its breath washed over them. She could see the flames flickering in the dragon's throat, the promise of destruction just a heartbeat away. Rhaenys, regal and unyielding, locked eyes with Alicent, a silent challenge passing between them.

Aemond stepped forward, his presence a wall of defiance and strength. “Get behind me,” he commanded, his voice steady despite the chaos. She obeyed without hesitation, her body pressed close to his, drawing comfort from his unwavering resolve.

The dragon’s eyes fixed on them, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. She could hear her own heartbeat, a frantic drumbeat in her ears, and the cold sweat on her palms. Every muscle in her body was taut with fear, and she kept her eyes firmly set to the ground.

This is how I die. Do you call it a dragonrider’s death when you don’t ride a dragon?

My son. AerysAerysAerys-

Aemond.

Rhaenys stared at them all, the weight of her decision hanging in the air. Meleys shifted, the ground trembling beneath its weight, and for a moment, it seemed as though the dragon would unleash its fury. But then, as if making a choice that defied all expectations, Rhaenys turned Meleys away, the dragon's wings beating powerfully as they ascended through the shattered roof of the Dragonpit.

The relief was overwhelming, a rush of emotions that left her weak at the knees. She clung to Aemond, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps as she tried to process what had just happened. The hall was filled with the sounds of weeping and the murmurs of disbelief, the aftermath of the encounter leaving everyone shaken.

Aemond’s arm wrapped around her, pulling her close, his breath warm against her ear. “Are you all right?” he asked, his voice low and filled with concern. She nodded, still trembling, her heart beginning to slow as the adrenaline ebbed away.

She did not notice how closely he held her when it came down to it - for the very first time. 

Aemond's fingers dug into Sylvi's hips as he thrust into her from behind, each movement fierce and relentless. Her back arched under the pressure of his hand, pushing her down onto the bed. The room was filled with the raw sounds of their coupling, echoing off the walls.

His breath came in ragged gasps, mingling with her moans. His grip tightened, nails biting into her flesh as he drove into her harder, seeking release in the violent act. The scent of sweat and sex hung heavy in the air, an intoxicating mix that fueled his aggression. "Gods,” He growled, his voice a low, primal rumble. He watched as her body responded to each thrust, the way her muscles tensed and relaxed, the sheen of sweat on her skin glistening in the candlelight. She was a willing vessel for his frustrations, and he took her with a ferocity that bordered on madness.

Her moans turned into cries of pleasure, her fingers clutching the sheets beneath her as she braced herself against his onslaught. He felt a dark satisfaction at the way he could bend her to his will, the power he wielded in these moments of raw, unbridled lust.

The climax came in a wave of intense pleasure, his body shuddering as he spilled into her. He collapsed over her, panting, his chest pressed against her back as he tried to catch his breath. The aftermath was a stark contrast to the ferocity of their coupling – a quiet, intimate moment where their bodies remained entwined, slick with sweat and the remnants of their shared passion.

Her arms wrapped around Aemond's naked body, her touch tender and soothing after their rough encounter. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of candlelight casting shadows on the walls. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and sex, mingling with the faint aroma of lavender from the sheets.

Aemond's breathing gradually slowed, his chest rising and falling against hers as he allowed himself to relax in her embrace. His mind, however, was anything but at ease. He thought back to the scene that had haunted him since he left his chambers earlier: his wife, cradling their son, her eyes red from crying, her body and mind still fragile from the ordeal of facing a dragon at Aegon’s coronation.

"She was crying before I left to come here," he began, his voice a low murmur against her neck. "Holding our son, so shocked by near-death.. It didn’t seem as terrifying to me, but... she was so scared. She's worried, you know. About the impending war."

The Madame’s fingers traced gentle circles on his back, encouraging him to continue. "She doesn't have dragonrider's blood," he went on, almost to himself. "I didn’t know how to comfort her. I want to help, but I don’t know how."

Her hands moved up to his shoulders, her touch grounding him. Her presence was a stark contrast to the chaos in his mind. He lowered his head to her chest, his lips finding her breast. He suckled softly, kneading the soft flesh, seeking solace in the familiar act.

Holding their son brought comfort to his wife, and for him, coming here to the Madame, was his escape. The warmth and intimacy they shared, however fleeting, was his way of coping with the weight of his responsibilities and the emotional distance between him and his wife. As he continued to be held, he couldn’t help but wonder if he and his wife would ever find this kind of comfort in each other; if he’d ever find the courage or the trust to truly tell her what he needs without worrying about losing her respect.

If he'd walked in and held her while she cried instead of leaving her to it and coming here, could he have made her feel safer?

Too many questions, not enough courage for answers. Too much pride and so little sense between them both.

Aemond's heart pounded in his chest as Vhagar soared through the stormy skies back to King's Landing. The cold wind bit at his face, but it was nothing compared to the icy dread gripping his heart. 

He had killed Luke. His nephew, his blood. 

The act had been unintended, a consequence of their reckless chase, but it was done. There would be no undoing it. If there hadn't been a war before, there certainly was now. The weight of his actions settled heavily upon him, more suffocating than the fiercest storm. As the familiar silhouette of the Red Keep came into view, a storm of emotions churned within him. Guilt, fear, and a desperate need for comfort twisted together, making his insides writhe. 

He dismounted Vhagar with a heavy heart, his drenched form slipping through the darkened halls of the castle like a shadow. His mind raced, an entire host of thoughts battering against the walls of his consciousness. He needed solace, a place to hide from the storm he had created. The whorehouse crossed his mind briefly, a familiar escape, but he knew it wouldn’t be enough this time. He needed... he needed...

Before he knew it, his feet had taken him to her apartments.

Her. His wife.

He stood before the door, hesitating for a moment before pushing it open. His wife was readying for bed, her state of undress evident. She wore a robe over her shift, her hair loose around her shoulders. The soft light from the hearth bathed her in a gentle glow, as he took her in. She turned to him in shock, her eyes widening at the sight of him. It was clear how rare this occurrence was, how unexpected his presence was in her chambers. But she was quick to pull him in, taking in his drenched form with a worried expression.

"Husband, what has happened?" she asked, her voice filled with concern.

He did not answer, his eyes trained on her as she moved. Her exposed skin drew his attention, and he found himself wondering. 

Was she softer? Kinder? Would she hold him in her soft arms if he so wished? Did he deserve it from her? Would she shame him?

She kept asking, but he remained silent, his mind too chaotic to form coherent words. She moved to find him something to dry off with, but he reached out, his hand wrapping around her wrist in a death grip.

"Don't go," he whispered, his voice raw and choked, barely more than a breath.

She looked up at him, her confusion gradually giving way to a quiet curiosity. He gently guided her arms around his cold and damp waist, his touch unexpectedly tender. This was not a whore; this was his wife. She deserved to be treated differently. 

At first, she froze, her body tense and uncertain, but slowly, she let herself relax – at least as much as she could manage with a husband who had sought her out for the first time in a year.

He felt her hesitation and understood the significance of her yielding. The weight of his guilt pressed harder against his heart, but he clung to this moment of closeness, desperate for the comfort he so craved.

"What has happened, husband? Why are you here?" she asked softly, parts of her words muffled into his chest.

He remained silent, waiting to see what she would do. Her repeated questions slowly stopped, a resigned understanding settling in her gaze. In the silence, he became acutely aware of her form – soft, untouched by anyone but him, made for him. The thin layers of her robe and shift did little to keep his hands from exploring her.

His fingers trembled as they traced the curve of her spine, brushing against the delicate fabric of her robe. Every slight movement, every breath, every shiver she made became magnified in his mind. Her body responded to his touch with a delicate gasp, and he felt a surge of something he couldn't quite name – a need, a longing, a desperate desire for solace in her embrace.

He watched the rise and fall of her chest, every intake of breath, every flinch and gasp. He noticed a stray hair that had fallen across her face, the way the delicate hairs on her skin raised at his touch, the way her eyes widened and then softened. Each detail etched itself into his mind, a stark contrast to the murder that had driven him here.

She tightened her arms around him, her touch gentle yet firm. He buried his face in her hair, breathing in her scent – lilacs and something uniquely her that anchored him to this moment, to her. It was a comfort stronger than any he had ever received, yet calm and grounding at the same time.

His hands roamed her back, feeling the delicate curve of her waist, the slight tremor in her muscles as she responded to his touch. He pressed his lips to her neck, feeling the pulse of her heartbeat, steady and reassuring. Her breath hitched, and he felt the vibration of her voice as she whispered his name, a question and a plea all at once.

"Aemond," she murmured, her voice breaking the silence. His body reacts in shivers and heat at the sound of his name upon her lips. "Please, tell me what's wrong."

Had she ever said his name out loud before? He did not know. But he wanted to hear it again and again until the world as he knew it ended. Perhaps it was the guilt - over Luke, or over his neglect of his wife - he did not know. But it was all bubbling at the surface now, and he was much more open and vulnerable than he’d ever been.

He bent his head down, his eye locking onto hers. The intensity of his gaze seemed to drown out the room, focusing solely on her. He could see the concern, the worry etched in her features, and it tore at him. He couldn't tell her, not yet. Not about the blood on his hands, the life he had taken, not why he was here and what he’d wanted.

But he could let her consume him, to forget. He could lose himself in her.

He felt the warmth of her skin, the softness of her curves against him, and for a moment, he allowed himself to forget the horrors of the night. He traced the line of her jaw with his fingers, memorizing every curve, every angle. Her skin was smooth and warm, a stark contrast to the cold, damp leathers clinging to him.

He pressed his forehead to hers, their breaths mingling in the scant space between them. Her eyes searched his, looking for answers he couldn't give. Despite her confusion, the turmoil in his mind quieted, replaced by the steady, reassuring rhythm of her heartbeat. She was his anchor, his solace, and he clung to her like a lifeline in the storm.

Wordlessly, he moved back enough to get a good look at her, his eyes tracing her form with a reverence that made her pulse quicken. He then slowly untied the front of her robe, the silk falling away with a whisper. His hands fell to her shoulders, pausing there for a moment as he sighed. As he pushed the sleeves down, his hands traced the newly revealed skin - his fingers glided from her collarbone to her shoulders, down her arms, and finally to her fingers, which he intertwined with his own. The robe slipped to the floor, leaving her in a thin shift that clung to her curves, leaving little to the imagination.

His eyes remained locked on hers, the intensity of his gaze a silent plea for forgiveness, a desperate need to be anchored by her presence. He took her trembling hands and placed them on his damp leathers, his touch firm but gentle, giving her silent permission—no, a quiet command—to undress him. His breath hitched slightly as he waited for her to take the lead.

She moved slowly, her fingers deftly working the buckles and straps, peeling away the layers of his clothing until he stood before her in only his trousers. Her hands hover over his chest, her touch hesitant, almost afraid, as if she's not sure she's allowed to touch him. His skin was warm under her fingertips, his heart pounding just beneath the surface.

His hands covered hers, guiding them lower, to the waistband of his trousers. His touch was both a plea and a command, silently asking, demanding, begging her to take this final barrier away. She did, her movements slow and deliberate, until he stood bare before her, exposed in every sense of the word.

She did not dare try to take off his eyepatch, not this time.

He watched her intently, noting every flinch, every gasp, every shiver that runs through her. His fingers traced delicate patterns on her skin, exploring every inch with a tenderness that speaks of his desperation for her. He needed this moment, her touch, to forget what he'd done to Luke, to drown the guilt that threatened to consume him. Every breath he took was a reminder of his failures, every brush of her skin against his a lifeline that pulled him back from the proverbial edge.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against her neck, her collarbone, her shoulder - not her lips, he had not kissed her on the lips since their wedding ceremony. His hands roamed her body, mapped out the places that made her gasp, the spots that made her arch into him. He was attuned to her every reaction, his focus entirely on her.

All he asked for in return - with no words - is that she make him feel safe for this one night.

With his body bare and hers still clad in her shift, he silently gestured to her bed with a tilt of his head. She moved toward it, her movements graceful yet hesitant, and then crawled to the back, letting her spine rest against the headboard. He stood there for a moment, watching her, his breath uneven and his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions.

He did not miss the way she looked at him. Desire flickered in her eyes, growing with each second her gaze roved over his body. Her eyes widened when they settled on his manhood, and he could see the anticipation building within her. She expected him to take her tonight, he knew. He hadn't given any indication otherwise in the last few moments, and she had no clue what he actually wanted; or why.

Would she welcome him to her bed if she knew he was a kinslayer?

The thought gnawed at him, but he chose not to tell her. She might not offer her true acceptance, but he would take her false comfort tonight – even if she thought it true.

He moved to the side of the bed with all his characteristic grace. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mix of confusion and longing. When he lifted his knee to place it on the plush mattress, she shifted to make space for him. He laid down beside her, his movements deliberate and slow, as if fearing she might vanish if he was too hasty. She mirrored his actions, and soon they were facing each other, their warm breaths mingling in the stillness of the room.

Their eyes locked, and he saw her questioning gaze. Her next words, soft and tentative, knocked the breath out of his lungs.

"Are you alright?"

For a moment, he couldn't answer, the weight of the day's events pressing down on him. He looked at her, truly looked at her, and saw the worry etched in the lines of her face, the softness of her eyes, the way her lips parted slightly as she waited for his response.

"I will be," he finally said, his voice rough with emotion.

Tentatively, he placed his hand on her thigh, feeling the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric of her shift. He slid the material up, his fingers tracing the smooth expanse of her leg. 

"Gevie.” [Beautiful.]

His fingers continued their journey, moving to her inner thigh. Her legs shivered at his touch, and he smirked for a moment before he withdrew his hand and moved closer. Their bodies were now a hairsbreadth apart, the heat between them palpable. 

His hands moved to her breasts, feeling their fullness beneath her shift. He was acutely aware of every breath she took, every flinch and gasp that escaped her lips. Each reaction to his touch drew him further into the present moment, away from the dark thoughts that threatened to consume him. Her body was a haven, a sanctuary where he could lose himself, if only for a while.

Encouraged by her soft gasps, he continued to knead the mounds of flesh and pinch her pert nipples, his touch gentle yet insistent through the shift. Lowering his head, he nestled himself at her bosom, inhaling deeply. The scent of lilacs and milk overtook him, and he let out a contented sigh.

"You are a mother... the mother of my heir," he murmured into her chest, his voice a mix of reverence and disbelief.

She said nothing, but when her initial shock faded, she began to comb her fingers through his soft hair, humming the same song she sang to their son to sleep. The melody was soothing, a balm to his frayed nerves. He didn't know if her singing was to calm him or herself, but he found solace in the gentle rise and fall of her breasts with each breath she took.

He took in the way her body trembled slightly beneath him, the softness of her skin, the rhythmic beating of her heart against his cheek. This was not the harsh, immediate and uncertain release he sought at the whorehouse. 

This was more, more, more.

Sleep came to him easily in her arms, draped in her comfort; devoid of any nightmares, dreams, or heavy thoughts. 

If she wondered why he'd simply laid with her rather than fuck her, she did not ask.

Would she welcome him again when she finds out what he did?

The council branded him a kinslayer when he told them what he'd done. He embraced it, staring into their eyes, defiant and unyielding. He told them he did it on purpose, each word a dagger thrown with precision. Kinslayer, kinslayer, kinslayer-

Aegon patted his back, a twisted smile playing on his lips. "A job well done, drawing first blood in the King's name," he said, his voice a blend of admiration and malice. His grandfather's face remained a mask, revealing nothing. Criston was disappointed, his disapproval a heavy weight in the room. And his mother... 

His mother was disgusted, her eyes filled with a sorrow he had never seen before. When he stepped out and walked through the corridors, the word had spread like wildfire. 

Kinslayer. 

The whispers followed him like a relentless shadow. Servants and maids stepped out of his way, their gazes avoiding his. The tension was palpable, a living thing that tightened the air around him. He wanted to escape them all, to flee to the skies where their judgment could not reach him. But before then, he wanted to see them.

He stood near the doorway as she had a few days prior, watching her rock their fitful, sick son to sleep. Her movements were gentle, contrasting all the shock, anger and brashness he’d seen since he stepped out of her room before she awoke. He wanted her to look at him, to see beyond the blood and the sin. He was asking too much of her, he knew that. They were strangers bound by duty, their recent shared moments brief and fraught with his own selfish needs for comfort.

His heart pounded as she finally met his gaze. He was not prepared for the slight fear in her eyes. It cut through him deeper than any sword ever could. She looked at him as if he were a creature she could not recognize. 

Kinslayer, kinslayer, kinslayer-

The word echoed in his mind, a relentless chant that drowned out everything else. He took a step forward, his hands trembling. "I—" he began, but the words died in his throat. What could he say? How could he explain the unexplainable, justify the unforgivable? She held their son closer, her grip tightening protectively. The room was thick with unspoken words, with the weight of what he had done and what it meant for them. His mind raced, filled with a cacophony of anger, regret, and despair.

The need to escape surged within him again. He wanted to flee to the skies, to find solace in the cold, indifferent clouds. But he couldn't move, couldn't tear his gaze away from the image of her fear-stricken eyes.

Kinslayer, kinslayer, kinslayer-

With a heavy heart and a mind in turmoil, he turned and walked back into the shadowed corridors, each step echoing the relentless chant of his new title.

Kinslayer, kinslayer, kinslayer-

The word echoed through the empty halls, a reminder of the path he had chosen and the price he would pay.

If he’d told her last night as he laid in her arms, would she have understood?

He’d never know.

NEXT

MASTERLIST

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[dedalvs]

My brother and I absolutely cackled after that Aemond and Aegon Valyrian exchange!

I wanted to ask (and I'm terrible at conlangs, so forgive me) what grammar/syntax Aegon is stumbling over here and how to properly say what he intended to? Any why is he making thise mistakes (simply lacking the vocabulary, or rules of the language he hasn’t grasped)?

Let's take a look at it. This is what he said:

Nyke koston... Bēvilus... Sētegon bīlīvāzmi?

The subtitles say this:

"I can... Have to... Make a war?"

Prior to this Aemond is, essentially, showing off. He knows that Aegon has simply not put any time into studying Valyrian (or studying anything). At this stage, Valyrian is no longer spoken by the family on a day-to-day basis—especially as Alicent probably never learned it at all (or if she did, only in a few scattered lessons here and there; not to actually use). In order for either of the boys to gain any kind of fluency in the language, they have to study constantly and find ways to use it. There's simply no daily need for the language—and plenty of reasons not to use it, as very, very few people they'll encounter on a daily basis speak the language.

Now, if we were talking about two random people in Westeros, this wouldn't mean anything. But these are the children of Viserys Targaryen, himself a descendant of Aegon the Conqueror. They brought their family line and their culture with them to Westeros—and, of course, their language. If someone like Alicent Hightower doesn't speak High Valyrian it means nothing. If a Targaryen doesn't speak High Valyrian, though… See, they're supposed to be able to speak Valyrian. Failing to do so carries with it a sense of shame that isn't present for a random person who doesn't speak Valyrian. Aemond knows this. Aegon is annoying him, so he goes poking at that wound.

Aemond could have fed him a short line with an obvious answer to help Aegon out, but instead he threw a whole mess of Valyrian at him. The longer it goes on, the more lost Aegon gets, desperately trying to catch up and figure out what was just said and thereby missing what is being said at that instant. From the whole speech, Aegon probably only figured out that he was being asked a question, and it was something having to do with planning.

So, back to what he says. The beginning student of a language is quite adept at doing a single verb in a present tense sentence. In a discussion like this, though, you're typically saying things like "I think that" or "We should" or "I suggest" or "Perhaps we might", etc. All that stuff that we need to offer opinions, make suggestions, hedge, etc. Much more than simple narration.

Aegon is attempting to do this without a sufficient command of the language. He knows some vocabulary, he knows some grammar, but he simply did not put in the work to actually speak this language. Thus, he has to overcome a lot of Common Tongue (i.e. English) interference.

There are many differences between Valyrian and English, but the biggest one by far is the major word order. In English, the verbs come before the rest of the junk; in Valyrian, they come at the end. And this is how things get all messed up.

In English, you start the sentence saying things like "I think" or "We should" or "It seems". In Valyrian, those things come at the end. If you start with the Valyrian equivalent of "I think", you will quickly realize (presuming you know enough of the grammar) that you're sunk, because once you've said it, the sentence should be done. Thus you get Aegon's false starts.

Starting at the beginning, Aegon says Nyke koston, which is kind of like saying, "I could". But there's nowhere to go. This is how a sentence ends. For example, if he wanted to say, "I could fly to Harrenhal", he would say Harenhalot sōvegon koston—literally "To Harrenhal fly I could". If you're thinking English-ly, you're essentially thinking backwards, and if you simply translate what you're thinking, you'll immediately have nowhere to go. You'll have to take a pause and think about how to get started again. And that's exactly what happens here.

Now, leaving aside that Valyrian is a pro-drop language and starting it off with nyke "I" is unnecessary and makes you look like a beginner, koston isn't bad (I mean, if used sentence-finally). Once he realizes he can't start there, though, he loses confidence. It's those old High Valyrian lessons all over again, and some maester suggesting he hasn't studied. That self-doubt makes his facility with Valyrian worse. This means his chances of recovery are severely hampered.

But onward he presses, and he decides to say "We have to" or "I have to". Now, the problem here is in Valyrian that requires the verb bēvilagon. This verb isn't used in the usual way. Literally it means "to lie on". If you wanted to say "We must mobilize our dragons", you'd say Īlvī zaldrīzī mazannagon īlo bēvilza. That's literally "Our dragons to mobilize us it lies upon". The one who must do something is placed in the genitive and put directly before the verb. If you start with the verb, well, you missed your chance to say who it is that must be doing something—let alone what they must do. Another false start.

It's also worth noting that he says bēvilus as opposed to bēvilza. Let's ignore that it's the aorist and focus on the fact that it's the subjunctive (just like koston). You use the subjunctive with your main verb when you're hedging—when you're suggesting. Not when you're commanding. Kind of an odd thing to say "We must do this" with the subjunctive. Kind of like saying "Maybe we might considering having to do this".

At this point, his confidence has completely evaporated. Everybody's staring at him like he has no idea what he's talking about; Aemond's eating it up. He knows he's cooked. He's got to say something, though, so he says sētegon which isn't even conjugated. It means "to make" or "to create", which might make sense in English (e.g. "to make war"), but doesn't make sense in Valyrian (a bit like saying "to construct a war" or even "to bake a war") and then tries to pronounce vīlībāzmi "war" (wrong case/number, wrong order) and fails, saying bīlīvāzmi, which means nothing (also he wanted vīlībāzme. Vīlībāzmi is "wars").

Long story short, he doesn't present himself very well—and we didn't even talk about his general pronunciation or intonation. It's kind of a great big mess in only five words. A true disaster.

But if there were no expectation that he should be able to speak Valyrian, none of this would matter! If there were no shame associated with him specifically not being able to speak Valyrian no one would expect it of him, and this challenge would mean as little as someone challenging him to speak the Old Tongue or Asshai'i. It'd be meaningless.

In short, this small portion of this scene is about being a heritage speaker of a language. It's the exact nightmare scenario all heritage speakers fear: To be put on stage and made to perform despite being unequal to the task while simultaneously feeling that they should be equal to it.

It'd be so cool if it was okay to be kind of good with a language—if that level of mastery was acceptable. In the real world, anyway.

[axiian19-art]

A rambling analysis of Ivan's "Nowhere" (spoilers for up to round 7)

I'll start with my thoughts on the song itself, then break down some of the lyrics.

So, "Nowhere" is quite a bit different from Ivan's other songs, mostly in regards to the melody and his singing. His voice is a lot more... flat, and the pitch and length of the notes vary a lot less. In "Cure" and "Black Sorrow," there's a lot more variance: Ivan's voice goes from soft and low, singing shorter notes, to louder and higher, holding long notes, et cetera.

In Nowhere, the notes are typically shorter, and tend to stay in the same general area on the scale. Ivan's tone stays very consistent; in his other songs, it goes from calm and collected to full of emotion and feelings. He sounds a lot more monotone in Nowhere, and not just because he's singing quietly. He's not entirely apathetic; there's still a lot of emotion in his voice. But it's muted. Numb.

The only line that lacks this somewhat monotone, apathetic tone is "In love with you, when you were mine." This line is EVERYWHERE, and plays in the background of the ENTIRE TRACK.

And all of this kind of makes sense. "Black Sorrow" and "Cure" were both declarations of Ivan's love, and his feelings for Till. They were meant to be heard; they were meant to have an audience in Till. Ivan was projecting his emotions outwards.

"Nowhere" was not meant to be heard by anyone but Ivan himself—not even Till. It represented Ivan's internal thoughts, ones he would never say to anyone else—sort of how like someone might find certain things about a friend or significant other annoying, but choose not to say anything despite thinking it. Ivan is tired, and perhaps even a bit annoyed. He's wondering why Till doesn't return his feelings, and likely, wondering why he himself continues to love Till despite that.

Now, onto the lyrics (English translation b/c my Korean is awful):

That's just the kind of kid he is, so laugh Laugh, because he can't do anything No one cares about someone like him There's nowhere in the world for him to rest

It's been stated (see image below) that Ivan feels like he cannot be loved—that he's undeserving of it, or just doesn't have the qualifications. These lyrics are Ivan speaking about himself. Ivan is unable to get Till to return his feelings ("no one cares about someone like him"), and he is also, ultimately, unable to save Till ("Laugh, because he can't do anything"). To make this second thing worse, it happened not once, but TWICE: first when Ivan couldn't get Till to leave with him, and then when his actions in Round 6 ended up seemingly being for nothing in Round 7.

Another bit of the lyrics is as such:

Worse and worse this painful wound I become more and more numb

Ivan is slowly becoming more and more apathetic, and resigned to his fate, saying that "this always happens to me." Even the song's title is a reference to this: there's nowhere for Ivan to find solace, and all of "this" is going nowhere—"this" being Ivan's relationship with Till. Ivan is resigned to his fate of loving Till—almost certainly more than he loves himself—un"till" the end: until death.

[aibafiles]

Esperanto in Metaphor: ReFantazio

Not long ago I saw this this tweet pointing out that the in-game language in Metaphor is Esperanto (written in another script) and I decided to investigate for myself! The vocal tracks are in Esperanto as well, but I want to focus on the text here since I don't have a great ear for it. (The quoted tweet also points out that you can rearrange the title to get an Esperanto phrase - I think it would be more accurately spelled "Metafore Fantazio," or "metaphorically fantasy"!)

For the unfamiliar, Esperanto is the world's most widely spoken constructed language, developed in the late 19th century with the aim of being an easy to learn secondary language that could act as a bridge between speakers of other languages. While its vocabulary and grammar are largely derived from various European language families, it has speakers worldwide, including a sizeable number in Japan. Given the relationship between Metaphor's world and our own, I think it's a cool choice to take a constructed secondary language and make it the in-universe primary language—not to mention the game's themes of uniting different people with a language intended to do just that.

I studied Esperanto myself for some time 9 years ago, though I've forgotten most of it, so I'm very rusty. That said, I was able to sit down and parse one particular block of text that the game provides a translation for, and use that to read the rest! I'm slowly combing through the demo and translating any legible text, and I wanted to share some of the interesting details I found. If any Esperantists see this and want to weigh in, please do! There's plenty I may not remember or be aware of.

Continued under the cut, including content from the demo:

Let's start with the text the game translates for us! Here's what the VO/subtitles say:

O Great Seeker, bearer of fantasy empowered... Hear my wish, and come forth from thy epoch of glory to grant me thy guidance.

Here's the "deciphered" Esperanto:

Ho, granda serĉanto, kiu vivas en epoko de gloro, kiu enkarnigas la povon de fantazio. Bonvolu disdoni al li vian gvidadon.

And here's a more "direct" translation:

O Great Seeker, who lives in an epoch of glory, who embodies the power of fantasy. Please grant him thy guidance.

Not too much different of note here other than the pronoun usage—in Esperanto, the speaker explicitly uses "he," likely referring to the protagonist. I suspect that the English is actually translated from the Japanese line, which is ambiguous, so they made an educated guess here. But, since this is the same speaker who narrates awakening cutscenes and new bonds, it makes sense that they're calling to the Seeker on his behalf!

This is a point I'm unsure about, but from my understanding, "granda" (here translated as "great") typically refers to size, so it seems like an odd word choice to me—but it's possible there are connotations I'm not aware of.

After some poking around I stumbled across some text on the background of the name entry screen that reads "signaro" (character set), followed by the whole Latin alphabet on the next line.

"But Batts!" you may say. "Esperanto doesn't use QWXY! What about the diacritics!"

Well. There aren't any! There are 6 characters with diacritic marks used in Esperanto (ĉ, ĝ, ĥ, ĵ, ŝ, and ŭ), and since our character set doesn't use any of them, we have to make some educated guesses about which one it is at any given time. This is mostly a non-issue since they're real, existing words, but it does make it a bit trickier at points, and relates to another problem I'll get to in a bit. (There are a select few instances where I've seen diacritic marks on handwritten text or shop names, but there are still far fewer than there should be.)

That said, there is also some plain English text using this script as well, so the game does make use of those extra letters, such as the Memorandum UI - scrolling books have titles like "Marine," "Royal Capital," "100 Mystery of Ningen (humans)," and "Melancholia Gen" (?), plus cute notes in the background like "I want to read slowly" and "already read very good."

Anyway, this diacritic ambiguity bugged me for a bit when I started translating some text with "Euchronia" in it, like the above "Regno de Eŭcronio - Dezerto de Tradia." The Esperanto "C" and "Ĉ" are always pronounced "ts" and "ch" respectively, so the pronunciation here is a bit awkward either way, as both characters are meant to precede a vowel. A more natural pronunciation in line with both the Japanese and English would be "Eŭkronio," a spelling I found once in the body of the contract our protagonist signs to join the army, and never again. Alas.

I noticed a few interesting details while translating place names - the "Trad" in "Grand Trad" (Granda Tradicio) means "tradition" - and many locations are labeled on the map that I don't think are mentioned in the demo's runtime - Oceana to the west is named, but also of note are Kalendulo ("marigold," maybe "Calendula" in English) to the east, the Hulkenmont mountains surrounding that region, and the "Malnova Insularo" (old archipelago) to the south.

(Screenshot grabbed from justonegamr on Youtube.)

Lots of fun stuff going on with these posters - the big propaganda poster says "Mi volas vin por homoj" - "I want you for humans!" The poster immediately to its right and the one with the light-haired paripus are both wanted posters with rewards of 50,000 and 7,000 respectively, and the former has a somewhat legible name - Mikelan something (?). There's also quite a bit of illegible text that I'll need to boot up the game to stare at, textures willing.

Here is where I noticed an occasional problem with the text in this game: some of these posters include words that should have diacritic marks, but instead the characters are gone entirely or replaced with a space. For instance, the poster with the face that appears twice on the bottom row reads "Ser a peto - i tiu viro" where it should say "Serĉa peto - ĉi tiu viro" (Search request - this man). I spent so long wondering what "Dan ero" meant on the poster with the red "no" sign before I realized it was meant to be "Danĝero" (Danger).

This extends to some other parts of the game, such as the world map title ("Unuiĝinta Reĝlando de Eŭcronio" written as "unui inta re lando de e cronio," which is how I knew it was a plain C oops), and the giant statue in More's study covered in archetype names, some of which are missing characters.

I suspect that at some point in the process, these characters couldn't be properly encoded and got lost before making it into the game. Most of the UI text seems to be intact, and this only affects graphic text as far as I've seen. Luckily, we can usually use context to guess at what they should be.

There's a ton more that I'm still hunting down and translating, so if you'd like to see it, you can check out my spreadsheet here! I'm hoping to keep updating it as I play through the full game, and I may make some more posts if I encounter any particularly interesting details. A few more tidbits before I go:

This appears to be an annual calendar - number 1 is at the top and it circles around to 12, and then the inner circle runs from 1-30, likely representing the weeks.

Various graffiti found around Sunshade Row that reads:

Ĉi tio estis infero (this was hell)

Malbela elda (nasty/ugly elda)

Merdo (shit)

And in the words of our favorite tooth...

Elbe venontfoje! (Maybe next time!)

[coralinnii]

❋ You said what now? ❋

↳ He accidentally found out your feelings

feat: Ruggie ⭑ Chenya ⭑ Lilia ⭑ Epel

genre: fluff (uhh for the most part), humour,

note: no pronouns used with the reader, no explicit spoilers for book 7 in Lilia’s section, reader is referred as human in Lilia’s section, reader is implied to be a first year in Epel’s section, bad cat-related wording in Chenya’s section

Fun fact: while not obvious in the English translation, if you listen to Chenya’s Japanese voice lines, he likes to say “nya” at the end of his sentences.

Will I keep that fact in mind anytime Chenya pops up? Absolutely.

Also, I just started my college classes again last week (which is why I didn’t post last week). All of my classes are dense with text and quizzes so…I need to study real hard which will most likely eat up my time for writing. Good ol’ inconsistent me~

Although, I’m taking History and we focus a bit on the age of nobility and old kingdoms…so maybe some inspiration for my villain/ess!au series (or maybe not cuz history is weirder than one thinks…)

How it happened

Perhaps a little sneaky, Ruggie is someone reliable, resourceful, and fun to be around. You started to fall for him and even that sneaky side of his became endearing to you.

But bigger, financial priorities occupy the hyena beastman’s mind more than anything else. Unless he can make a madol from it or get a freebie, his interest in anything else is seemingly non-existent. It was rather easy to keep your feelings to yourself when the topic of love rarely, if ever, comes up.

So it came to a surprise to you when the shaggy-haired sophomore mentioned his coworkers at a part-time job he picked up in town.

He started ranting about how a duo at his workplace started an unlikely relationship a few days ago. According to him, the two were from two different worlds and didn’t appear to be either of their types.

“Doesn’t make any sense if you ask me” he mumbled, scratching his fluffy head by the sudden revelation at his job.

You nodded and hummed as he recounted his workday with you, but in all honesty, you didn’t share his confusion over the so-called sudden pairing. By the way Ruggie described the couple, it does sound like their personalities wouldn’t mesh well and would theoretically clash too much for anything to bloom between them.

But attraction follows no simple formula. No one can stop themselves from falling for someone. You yourself were an example.

“Love is never predictable, Ruggie.” you commented without thinking, perhaps too distracted by the cute love story of Ruggie’s coworkers or it could be that you’re drowning in the warm feelings from being so close to your crush that your mouth is running too comfortably on its own. “I mean, I never thought you were my type but I still ended up-“

You shut your mouth before you could finish but looking at the wide-eyed expression on Ruggie’s face, the effort was moot.

“You still ended up?”

…Shoot.

What happens now?

Colour him shocked. Ruggie never entertained the idea that you would like him, out of all people.

He could’ve pretended not to figure it out, or convince himself that it was a misunderstanding. But he knew when he saw your flustered embarrassment and your cute stuttering trying to come up with an excuse, there was no misunderstanding. You like him.

Ruggie has a good amount of ego and he wouldn’t downplay his boyish good looks (odds are it got him out of a few close calls), but in a school of celebrities, royalty, and guys with money coming out the wazoo? He knows when he’s outmatched.

To be honest, his brain froze for a moment at your slip up. He clutched his heart which stuttered out of beat, his ears and tail stood in attention like a meerkat. Jack was worried watching his upperclassman in such a daze while folding laundry, heck it even got Leona raising a brow over the uncharacteristic clocked out look on his shorter dormmate.

But, Ruggie is a workaholic hyena. Always planning his way to work up the ladder to earn some good madol. Even if he likes the idea of making a family of his own, romance wasn’t in his peripheral vision at the moment. Not while he’s working multiple jobs at once. He would honestly feel a little bad because he knows he’ll end up ignoring any poor soul stuck with him.

As bad as it is, he might at first think to pretend he heard nothing about your feelings. He couldn’t bring himself to make you go through that, to be in a relationship where work takes precedence over you.

But then he thought it wouldn’t be so bad…snuggling up to you during one of his rare free time. Maybe you’re the type to surprise him with lunch and he could rest on your lap while you brush his hair. Would you maybe rub his sore muscles after an arduous club training session? Having boyfriend privileges means no one can complain when he slides up to your side, keeping your attention to himself without having to share…

Screw it, he’ll figure something out. He’s a greedy hyena through and through

Shyeheehee! Better be ready for what you’re asking for. Once I’ve set my eyes on something, I’m not lettin’ it get away!

How it happened

This man is a literal magic trick, appearing and disappearing to revel in the shock of his unsuspecting audience. As elusive as he is, the times he does show up brings a shock of joy and excitement to you.

It seems that the purple-haired student has made it a habit to join the Heartslabyul’s unbirthday parties from time to time, enjoying the occasional chaos and keeping you company to your conflicted delight.

You didn’t know why but Chenya made it his mission to fluster you every chance he gets, with cheeky comments and sly touches as he leads you away from incoming mishaps such as a stray splash of paint or a flying slice of cake. You don’t know why but the cat-like menace has taken a shine to teasing you out of the blue. Sometimes he would suddenly whisper nonsensical riddles into your ear, or tap your shoulder to then poke your cheek as you turn. Small silly pranks that should annoy you but your body becomes filled with butterflies when he smiles that charming grin at you.

How maddening, you thought as you fell for another sneaky surprise from the impish beastman. Once again, Chenya appeared right behind you, smiling just over your shoulder which gave you and your friends a fright (for different reasons) to which he took pleasure in, judging from the mischievous grin on his lips.

Your shouting caught the attention of the other Heartslabyul students and recognizing the white jacket and castle emblem, their eyes boiled with competitive rage. An RSA student? On Night Raven territory?!

“Ah, looks like fun time is over. I’ll just show meowself out~” and like a mirage, Chenya’s figure disappeared as the NRC students failed to catch even a strand of his fur. Not even when he took a second longer to fade out just so he could teasingly tickle the tip of your nose with his fluffy striped tail.

The students kept on making a fuss, eager to teach the mischief maker a lesson for trespassing on rival territory. You sighed at the wasteful effort, assuming that Chenya would be smart enough to have left long ago.

“Why must my crush be such a frustrating person?” Angry hollers and Riddle’s commanding cease-and-desist orders overwhelmed your tired voice, and your soft words ended up softly carried off into the wind.

But your words caught the interest of a curious ear before it disappeared.

What happens now?

Curiouser and curiouser. He was not expecting such a confession. Though to be fair, he supposed you didn’t mean for anyone to hear it.

Chenya found joy being in your company. The shock in your bright eyes followed by your cute laugh sends a warm, giddy feeling in his heart that he just could not stop. He had a feeling he knew what these feelings could be but he was content with what he could get in the rare moments he can see you.

But now, when he realized what your cute reactions meant? That sends whole new exciting feelings within him. It’s fuzzy and warm as usual, but now also shocking and thrilling. The sneaky beastman is grinning for more than one reason now.

He won’t immediately confess back. Considering this wonderful predicament where you don’t know he knows of your affections, his playful nature compels him to milk the fun of this situation for all its worth.

If you thought his cheeky antics were bad enough, you haven’t seen his flirty side till now. Playful taps on the shoulders become sneaky grabs by the waist, and just when you think he’s gone, his signature grin would grace your vision as he fades into view, a little too close to your own face. Sometimes when he feels emboldened, Chenya would sweep you off your feet for a spontaneous walk along the sweet breeze.

When you’re finally at your wit’s end, when all his teasing and heart-fluttering gestures fills you to the point of combusting in flustered frustration, that’s when he’ll finally tell you his reciprocated feelings, perhaps while stealing a quick kiss when you least suspect it. All to see that terribly adorable look on your pretty face.

Every adventure requires a first step. I’m excited to see where we’ll go together from meow on~

How it happened

See, you thought he already knew. You swore he did. Why else would he tease you so much with his sweet compliments and flirty jokes? The mysterious senior spoke to you as though you were a naive child crushing on their older peer, which you supposed wasn’t entirely wrong.

The way he treated you with so much care and love that you wondered if he already suspected of your feelings and was being considerate to you. He listens to your rambles as though he has all the time in the world for you, compliments you on your achievements as though he’s genuinely proud of your hard work, and he jokes with you with that boyish charm of his. But the scarlet-eyed fae never pursued further with advances with you, which made you think that perhaps this was just who Lilia was, a strange but friendly man, unwilling to hurt your feelings. Were you grasping at straws and misconstruing his intentions?

With a heavy heart, you tried your best to give up your hopes but maintained a cordial bond with Lilia, not wanting to avoid the jovial fae so suddenly (well, without having to explain why anyways)

But one day, when you were walking with the smiling senior, he started talking about a souvenir shirt that Kalim had given him during their club meeting. It was a shirt patterned erratically with various colours and pictures of tiny bats littered about. It was an eccentric visual of fabric but it strangely fits the equally eccentric man.

“What are your thoughts? Would I not look absolutely adorable in this?” Lilia asked, holding the shirt in front in his uniform with a boyish smile, his fangs peeking out slightly. But you rolled your eyes as you sighed exasperated by this man’s antics.

“Don’t you think that���s unfair for you to ask me?” You looked at him with a pout, somewhat irritated at the mature fae you’re trying to get over. “Of course I’d said you would, considering how much I like you”

For a rare moment, Lilia turned wide-eyed at your words. “Pardon? Do you by chance… harbour feelings for me?”

Turns out, he didn’t know at all

What happens now?

Guess you can still surprise this old man. He had his suspicions but for all he knew that was how the youth were these days. He was fond of your shy expressions whenever he was around and he could hear the quickening of your heartbeat, but he didn’t want to assume. Perhaps you were just more on the skittish side.

In the centuries he lived, he saw love in many forms. In the recent centuries he lived, he got to experience some of those forms of love he’s seen, with the pain and joy that comes with it. To him, it couldn’t ask for more as he lives out the last few centuries he has left.

You however, were still vibrant like a freshly bloomed flower in its prime. Was that why he just couldn’t take his eyes off you? He couldn’t help but watch in admiration as you lived with almost enviable vigour. He felt pulled, entranced to be by your side for even just a moment, just to see that beautiful gleam of life (and love, he realized) in your eyes.

But Lilia felt a beat of guilt in his heart. Your life is so short in comparison to his own. You should be sharing your youth with someone as brilliant as yourself, not pining over an old soul like himself. Humans are fickle creatures but he supposed with such short lives, it’s best to be curious and experience all one can without regrets.

He would be honest with you, sharing his thoughts with you as though warning that your affections were better spent with someone that suited you better. It would be up to you to convince the stubborn fae that he was your choice, that you already decided he suited you just fine. All you’re asking from him is if he shared the same feelings as you did.

“I may have tried to get rid of my feelings before, but I’m choosing not to run away this time,” in your eyes, Lilia sees that same vibrant gleam that mesmerized him, almost breathing a new sense of life into him. “All I ask is if you feel the same way”

And he does. He’s lying to himself if he hasn't thought of a life with you where he could steal surprise kisses throughout the day, where he could bring you to soar through the night skies as he takes you to explore the world with him. He imagines a life of silliness but also a life of blissful content as he gazes at you like a beacon of light in his life, a new reason to live a bit longer.

Lilia feels ensnared by love once more, but the burning warmth in his soul is just too invigorating. He’s looking forward to this new chapter in his life, with you.

I do hope you’ve prepared yourself, my dear. Eternal love with a fae should not be taken lightly. But rest assured, I look forward to our new adventure

How it happened

You were Epel’s close friend and confidant, someone who he can share his achievements and woes with. Being so new to the college, the two of you depend on each other through thick or thin and along the way, you grew to see the lavender-haired freshman as more than just a companion.

He has a bit of a temper and is quick to the jump at times, but he was always there for you and even though he doesn’t always see eye-to-eye with them at times, he respects his seniors and takes their lessons to heart.

When he talks about how much he dislikes his height or his feminine features, you nodded along for his sake but you couldn’t tell him that you were actually in disagreement. You adore his fluffy locks that you occasionally got to touch with his permission and his light blue eyes felt like calming waves of the purest lake. Epel constantly swore to you that he’ll have his growth spurt and will even tower Leona in height, but you like how you could hold him close to you without issue.

You love all that he is, even if he’s not too keen on some parts himself

But you kept this all to yourself. You thought Epel had other priorities on his mind and you were scared that confessing would ruin the friendship you’d built with him. For now, you were content to be by his side for however long you can.

You were dead tired during a particularly harsh Flying class with Coach Vargas and you were barely conscious enough to keep your eyes open. It took everything you had to just nod along to whatever Epel was saying, something about some Savanaclaw students?

“Who they think they are, callin’ me cute like that? I outta rip off their yapper for underestimatin’ me.” You weren’t helping his point when you thought how cute his accent was as he grumbled about his day. You were falling in and out of consciousness but thought you should at least reply back to your friend…anything at all…

“I’m sorry…that happened…even though…I think…you’re really cute…”

You were already out cold to notice your friend frozen in place as you finished your drowsy comment, your head landing on his stiff shoulders.

What happens now?

ALDFIUAHLBWAIGLH

Congratulations, you broke your friend and you don’t even remember it. When you woke up, you couldn’t figure out why Epel was as bright red as his hometown’s apples. Epel couldn’t even bring it up without getting too tongue-tied, his accent sputtering out incomprehensible words.

The blue-eyed freshman was raking his brain for an explanation. You thought he was cute…really cute to be precise, but what does that mean? Did you like him? As in like-like him? Is it normal for non-countryside folk to just say something like that? But most students around here tend to mean it like an insult but you weren’t like them, you would never do that to him. So what did you mean by it??

Left without a choice, Epel thought about who he could ask about this, maybe one of his seniors. But he immediately reconsidered when he realized who his seniors were (Vil and Rook will never let this go and there’s no way Leona would entertain this conversation) and turned to the only adult he can trust, his meemaw.

In his letter, he asked his grandma what it means when someone you cherish calls you cute (not mentioning who) and after a few days of fidgeting and awkward encounters with very confused you, he finally got an answer from her.

“STOP SITTIN’ ON YOUR KEISTER TWIDDLIN’ ‘ER THUMBS! GO AND ASK, DAGNABBIT!”

And that’s how you were confronted by a flustered Epel about your cute comment one random school day. To be fair, you probably didn’t fare any better when you realized you let your thoughts slip out.

You may have confessed your attraction to him but Epel can still be the first to make the first move. Relationships and dating are all new to the petite freshman and honestly he felt a little weak in the knees, all the nerves wracking his body like his first broom ride. But the past few days, he couldn’t stop thinking about being with you, sweeping you off your feet, impressing you the only way he can, to have your eyes solely on him like he does when you’re around. Heck, he thought what it’d be like to grow old with you, holding you like no one else can as you spend day and night by each other’s side. All these thoughts and more is what spur him to take the next step.

I ain’t too great on love and romance, but I’ll work hard to show ya how much ya mean to me. I promise that!

[haru-dipthong]

Fansub Release + Analysis of Utena Ep 14

This is a big one!!

My fansub release posts aren't usually like this, but this episode is so jam packed with stuff I want to talk about that I had to write my translation notes as a series of essays. It's longer than usual so strap in!

First, a word on “The Mikage Seminar”

I’ve always found the translation “the Mikage Seminar” very strange. In English, a seminar is an event — a lecture. Yet “the Mikage Seminar” is discussed as though it’s not a recurring lecture, but a society or a school of therapy, or a cult (like scientology). In fact I did a bit of reading about scientology to try and find an alternative translation, and discovered that the origins of scientology, namely a set of ideas and practices called Dianetics, bears a lot of similarities to “the Mikage Seminar”. Both involve a type of therapy where one person looks into their mind and talks to an “auditor”.

The auditor coaxes the preclear to recall as much as possible. — Wikipedia

This in particular stood out to me! Mikage often says 「深く。もっと深く」 during his interviews (”Deeper. Dig deeper.”).

The Japanese word ゼミナール doesn’t actually come from the English “seminar” but the German “Seminar” (capitalised). According to Wikipedia, in Germany, and often in Japan, Seminar/ゼミナール is used to refer to a university course that includes a thesis project. So ゼミナール refers to a course of learning, rather than a talk or lecture. And it would make a lot of sense to call a system like Dianetics a “course”. Almost like a “course” of medicine — a “course” of psychological practices that you can join but never complete.

So it would make sense to translate it as “the Mikage Course”. But “course” has more meanings in English than just this, and in the context of a university this makes it sound more like a mundane teaching course. So I tried some other words: the Mikage Sessions, the Mikage Method, Mikage Psychotherapy, Mikage Therapy, the Mikage Movement. None seemed quite right. Until I remembered this post. ゼミナール is a foreign word in Japanese, why not find a foreign word for the translation? And so I settled on this:

The Mikage Seminarium, AKA The Society of the Black Rose…

Seminarium is Latin, and is where both the German and English derive seminar from. Its original meaning is “seed plot���, but it’s also just the Polish word for seminar. I really like how the Latin makes its meaning ambiguous — it kind of sounds like a location, kind of sounds like a society, and kind of sounds like a learning course. Because it is all of these things.

Anthy: では、香苗さん。失礼します。 Kanae: ね、あたしの事、お姉さんって呼んでいいのよ。もうすぐわたしはあなたの本当のお姉さんになるんだから。

A more literal translation:

Anthy: Thank you for having us, Kanae-san. Kanae: Please… you can just call me “sister”. I’m going to be your real sister soon enough anyway.

The translation I ended up going with:

Anthy: Thank you for having us, Miss Ohtori. Kanae: Please... you can just call me Kanae. We're going to be family soon. There's no need for the formalities.

Japanese honorifics strike again!

In English, sisters-in-law don’t ask to be called “sister”. That would be super weird in most scenarios, and this scene is trying to evoke a particular familiar feeling of closing a distance gap in a relationship. The audience is meant to relate. Changing how Anthy addresses Kanae was pivotal to this scene working properly.

わかりました。あなたは世界を革命するしかないでしょ。

I understand. Your only choice is to force the world to change around you.

This line is translated as “Your only choice is to revolutionise the world” by basically every other translation. The reason is clear — the Japanese is the same as when Utena pulls the sword out of Anthy, or when any of the other characters talk about “revolutionising the world”. However, in this context, I don’t like it. The nuance of the English phrase is quite different to the Japanese phrase. In English, it’s often used to describe new commercial products: “This new device will revolutionise the world!” It comes with an implied “for the better”, but has used to describe technological developments so unexciting that it can also feel hollow. When the student council talk of revolutionising the world, they sound like revolutionaries — the context makes it work. But in this context, it comes out of nowhere and doesn’t have any of that fervour, which makes it sound hollow and flaccid when it should sound sinister and manipulative.

I think a pervading throughline for all the Black Rose duelists is that they see their problems as caused by other people, with themselves being blameless. Rather than change how they approach their situation, Mikage tells them they’re in the right.

Your behaviour will set you down a path. If that path leads to your goals, well done! However, if your path does not lead to your goals, there’s only two ways you can achieve them.

The first is to change your behaviour so that it does align with your goals. The second, impossible way, is for the rest of the world to change such that your current path DOES end up leading to your goals. This second way is not possible in the real world. But it is possible in Utena.

Also I’ll just leave this here: “around you” → “revolve” → “revolution” 👀

Kanae tried to build a relationship with Anthy in a passive, non-confrontational, extremely Japanese way — the way she has been taught to behave, the “proper” way, a mechanical following of the social scripts. We don’t see a lot of their relationship, but the way she behaved and spoke of behaving towards Anthy is very very similar to the way my Japanese grandmother has behaved towards my and my brother’s partners.

It was unthinkable to her to change this pattern of behaviour. Her only choice was to change Anthy, change the rest of the world, so that her behaviour would lead to the outcomes she wants. You could describe this forceful bending of reality to be “revolutionising the world”.

この黒薔薇のある限り、私はこれから嘘の私を演じなくて住む。

As long as I have this Black Rose, I'm free from the lie I was living before.

Besides gender, growing up, and resisting change (which exist as separate themes but also all intertwine as one), another major theme present in Utena is the self and subjective reality. The self is explored within those first major three themes, but also in terms of how the self dictates reality with the Black Rose duellists.

Black Rose Kanae says that her past self was a lie.

It reminds me of all the times when I’ve been going through a personal trial and I’ve looked back on my past self and thought “How naive I was. I understand things better now.” And then after a while I realise I was wrong, and my first self was more right. And then later still, maybe I re-realise that the second self was more right! And so on! The reality of truth (or to use Kanae’s language, “lies”) is so subjective.

Who dictates knowledge production? Who decides what is true; what is valid knowledge? This is a question of sociology - and at the moment that answer is "science does, kinda". But science and academic systems are supported by capitalist structures and tainted by capitalistic incentives — needing to be published in a journal, issues of replicability, the barrier to entry into academia in the first place, etc, etc. In the future we may find our current way of organising knowledge to be archaic and primitive in the same way we look back at medieval scholars.

But what about organising self-knowledge? Knowledge where the only one who can really decide what is true is yourself. And the only one that can decide what yourself even IS is yourself. I feel like I have looked back on my old ways of conceptualising myself many times (not even counting the gender-based revelations) and thought it primitive and archaic, and NOW I truly understand who I am and how to think of myself and how my thoughts interact with my other thoughts. But I have no doubt that I’ll look back on this current self of mine and reject their way of thinking too.

After their heart is replaced by the Black Rose, the duellists themselves frame this change as a moment of self realisation, of clarity. Once the rose is inside them, they wake up from themselves, like I have countless times. Kanae says herself, “This is the true me.” Honestly, I don’t doubt it. I think that version of Kanae was her true self at that moment, given the things influencing her. Being brainwashed doesn’t make you less of a person, or less yourself. It just makes you organise your reality differently.

心を凍結させて作っただけの間に合わせのデュエリストでは、彼女は破れないな。

We won't be able to defeat her by simply freezing someone's heart and forcing them to duel.

Anya and I discussed this in depth. I originally translated 心 as “mind”, because that was the first thing that popped into my head and I thought that was the simple part of the translation. However, Anya pointed out that it didn’t make sense with the themes of self and subjective reality, and I strongly agreed, so I changed it to “heart” instead.

Anya suggested “conscious mind” instead of “heart” but I think heart is more accurate. 心 (kokoro) can mean heart or mind in Japanese (I find it interesting that those two things are portrayed as opposites in English), and that kanji is found in the word for biological heart, 心臓 (shinzou). When they say of the Black Rose "This is your new heart" they use 心臓. They also say "Your new 命 (life/lifeforce)" which I translated as soul since it sounded more hardcore and because "your new life" is a set phrase in English meaning a new chapter in your life rather than your life force. I think the idea is that they're freezing the duellists' ability to love and feel empathy, which in my opinion is necessary for them to commit to the unbelievably selfish act of revolutionising/reconstructing/bending the entire structure of the world for their own convenience.

A very special thanks to @dontbe-lasanya for being there to talk through all these themes and ideas. I'm incredibly proud of this episode's translation and I wouldn't have been able to do it without them.

If you want to see more analysis like this, let me know! And also follow this blog to see episodes of the fansub as they're released. You can find all episodes released so far here:

Rose divider taken from this post

[noxiatoxia]

Posting this clip early for the Komaedaologists in the room.

(Context: this is a patch I'm making for the Steam version of SDR2 that retranslates all the text to fix the abundant translation errors and to flow better in English.)

Anyways, Komaeda's intro has a number of things I had to change. I added back in Komaeda's speech patterns; his tendency to use filler words more than the other cast members. There was also one big mistranslation, where the translators mistook him as praising his luck for getting into HPA. However, it's supposed to be him praising HPA's studiousness for being the reason they wanted him in.

You may also notice Hinata has some differences in his text. By far and large, he's the character that suffers most from stiff, unnatural dialogue. This is because most of his dialogue, when translated literally, sounds this way. So for a lot of his lines, I'm capturing the essence of what he means rather than the literal words. You may also notice he swears a bit more. Japanese doesn't have "swear words" in the sense of being equivocal to English. However, Hinata speaks in a very rough, masculine manner that comes off as somewhat rude. I would compare it to someone who has no issue casually swearing in public. Hence the change. It also makes the transition between his spoken words and his deeper thoughts more apparent and humorous. Hinata has a tendency to speak like a tortured poet, for lack of a better example, when he heavily reflects on things. I'm certain this was done on purpose to be somewhat humorous, as outside of these poetic thoughts, he speaks very dryly and unambiguously.

Those are the big ones, I think. If you have specific questions or want to know the hows and whys, ask away. I'm having fun with this so far :)

[todomitoukei]

Japanese vs. English Todoroki Family Finale - A 426 Comparison

Just a few days after Horikoshi announced that there were only 5 chapters left, the so-called final chapter for the Todoroki family came out, as always sparking lots of discussion and bringing forth countless questionable takes, followed by the release of the official English translation.

So let’s take a closer look at the Japanese lines, starting with the Todoroki family’s short conversation before going to see Touya:

「来なくて大丈夫って言ったのに！」

「来なくて ; konakute」-> not coming 「大丈夫 ; daijoubu」-> okay; alright 「って ; tte」-> quoting particle (casual of と) 「言った ; itta」-> said 「のに ; noni」-> even though

= “Even though we said it’s okay not to come.”

「それを言うなら貴方たちもよ冬美夏雄」

「それ ; sore」-> that 「を ; o」-> direct object marker 「言う ; iu」-> to say 「なら ; nara」-> that being the case; on the topic of 「貴方たち ; anatatachi」-> you (plural) 「も ; mo」-> also; too 「よ ; yo」-> emphasis particle 「冬美 ; fuyumi」-> Fuyumi 「夏雄 ; natsuo」-> Natsuo

= “On the topic of saying that, you too, Fuyumi, Natsuo.”

What stood out to me here was Rei calling him Natsuo, when usually, everyone else (except Endeavor) calls him Natsu-kun or Natsu. Calling him by the full version of his first name rather than a shortened version might be done to indicate that things have changed, although not necessarily in a negative way. It's more that there has been a shift.

By the way, I am working on a masterpost talking about how the family addresses + refers to each other. Yes, I am going through the entire manga for that (this is a cry for help). Once the manga is finished I will post it (at some point), so look out for that if you’re interested in finding out exactly how many times who gets called what (yes, I am counting and making graphs)!

「お母さんでも…」

「お母さん ; okaasan」-> mom 「でも ; demo」-> but

= “But mom…”

「それを言うならおまえもだ冷」

「それ ; sore」-> that 「を ; o」-> direct object marker 「言う ; iu」-> to say 「なら ; nara」-> that being the case; on the topic of 「おまえ ; omae」-> you 「も ; mo」-> also; too 「だ ; da」-> be 「冷 ; rei」-> Rei

= “On the topic of saying that, you too, Rei.”

I love that he almost fully copies Rei’s phrase here. This is the first of many unoriginal lines that he has in this chapter. It only goes downhill from here.

「義務感で来たんじゃねぇから！皆そうだろ」

「義務感 ; gimukan」-> sense of duty (obligation) 「で ; de」-> with; by 「来た ; kita」-> came 「ん ; n」-> explanatory particle 「じゃねえ ; janee」-> isn’t 「から ; kara」-> because; so  (used to change the other person’s thoughts etc.) 「皆 ; mina」-> everyone 「そう ; sou」-> so; that way 「だろ ; daro」-> right?

= “I didn’t come out of a sense of duty! Everyone is that way, right?”

Usually, a second phrase would follow up the kara, but can also be left out when the meaning of that second phrase is implied enough. Since Fuyumi said Shouto didn’t have to come (if he didn’t want to, didn’t feel comfortable etc.) there is an implication that perhaps he only showed up because he felt like that was expected of him. Ending his clarification of “I didn’t come because I felt obligated” with kara “so” the implied follow up would be along the lines of “don’t worry”, which then gets wrapped up suggesting that all of them are showing up not because they feel pressured to do so, but because they want to visit Touya - since they basically just went around in a circle letting each other know they didn’t have to come if they don’t want to.

「会話は可能ですが一日に数分が限界です」

「会話 ; kaiwa」-> conversation 「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle 「可能 ; kanou」-> possible 「です ; desu」-> to be 「が ; ga」-> but 「一日 ; ichi nichi」-> one day 「に ; ni」-> at; in 「数分 ; suufun」-> a few minutes 「が ; ga」-> subject marker particle 「限界 ; genkai」-> limit 「です ; desu」-> to be

= “Conversations are possible, but a few minutes a day is the limit.”

I’m not sure how long Touya has been in here, but this line indicates that the staff members have been talking to him and I’d be curious to know what those conversations were like. What did they talk about? What kind of attitude did he give them? What was his reaction when he first regained consciousness? These are the questions we want answered, but alas, the Todoroki family plot simply isn’t about him. All the way to the bitter end it shall remain focusing on the most underrepresented group of them all: rich middle-aged men.

「緩やかに死へと向かっている…それが今の轟燈矢です」

「緩やかに ; yuruyakani」-> slowly 「死 ; shi」-> death 「へと ; e to」-> towards 「向かっている ; mukatteiru」-> to face; to head toward 「れ ; sore」-> that 「が ; ga」-> subject marker particle 「今 ; ima」-> now; current 「の ; no」-> possessive particle; similar to an apostrophe 「轟燈矢 ; todoroki touya」-> Touya Todoroki 「です ; desu」-> to be

= “Slowly heading towards death… that is the current Touya Todoroki.”

The particle e is a directional particle that can be translated as “toward”. Adding the particle to after it adds an emotional emphasis to the part that follows the to particle as opposed to just stating a fact, there is sympathy in this claim.

As for the claim itself - I know that a lot of people are convinced he is going to die because look! Random nameless character #47AAB7 said so, it must be true! But to be honest, I’m not even going to entertain that thought because despite all the criticism I have for this story, Horikoshi isn’t that bad of a writer. If he had wanted Touya dead, he could’ve easily killed him at the end of the last war. It makes zero sense for him to be saved and then pass away quietly and peacefully in a hospital (or whatever that place is).

Even if we were to say that Shouto managed to save him emotionally, so that counts as a win! It’s kind of a shit win if the only difference is that you now get to die “at peace”, which also could’ve been accomplished on the battlefield. At this point, it’s just inefficient and therefore, him dying at this point is not going to happen.

「........ぞろぞろと」

「ぞろぞろ ; zorozoro」-> in droves; swarming 「と ; to」-> adds emphasis

= “....In droves”

Zorozoro is used to describe several beings (can be humans or animals) that appear or move together like a swarm. This certainly is the first time the entire family is together, so it’s not surprising the rare sight is being pointed out in a joking manner, although he undoubtedly means this in a positive way as it contradicts his prior belief of no one in his family caring about him or missing him.

The fact that, upon first waking up after his coma as a teenager his immediate thought was to return and apologize, and now after ten years he finally gets the chance to talk to them and what is the first thing coming out of his mouth? Calling them a swarm. Forever and always the most relatable character.

「ハハ…観光名所じゃねぇんだよ........」

「ハハ ; haha」-> haha 「観光名所 ; kankoumeisho」-> tourist attraction; sightseeing spot 「じゃねぇ ; janee」-> isn’t 「んだ ; nda」-> explanatory particle 「��� ; yo」-> emphasis particle

= “Haha… It’s not a tourist attraction, right?”

If he was a tourist attraction, Hori better drop the location right now. Please. For research purposes or whatever.

「燈矢」

「燈矢 ; touya」-> Touya

= “Touya.”

「今後の話をしに来たんだ燈矢」

「今後 ; kongo」-> from now on 「の ; no」-> possessive particle; similar to an apostrophe 「話 ; hanashi」-> talk, conversation 「を ; o」-> direct object marker 「しに来た ; shi ni kita」-> came to do sth 「んだ ; nda」-> explanatory particle 「燈矢 ; touya」-> Touya

= “I came to talk about the future, Touya.”

Kongo literally means “after now” or in other words, the future.

「俺はヒーローを引退するよ」

「俺 ; ore」-> I  「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle 「ヒーロー ; hiirou」-> hero 「を ; o」-> direct object marker 「引退する ; intai suru」-> to retire 「よ ; yo」-> emphasis particle

= “I am retiring from being a Hero.”

He says as though he has a choice. This is also one of those “This could’ve been an email” kinds of lines.

「元より戦いが終わったらそうするつもりだったが 最早自力で立つことすらままならん」

「元より ; moto yori」-> all along; from the first 「戦い ; tatakai」-> war 「が ; ga」-> subject marker particle 「終わったら ; owattara」-> when it ended 「そう ; sou」-> so; that way 「する ; suru」-> to do 「つもり ; tsumori」-> to plan 「だった ; datta」-> was 「が ; ga」-> but 「最早 ; mohaya」-> already; no longer 「自力 ; jiriki」-> one’s own strength 「で ; de」-> with 「立つ ; tatsu」-> to stand 「こと ; koto 」-> nominalizes prior word/phrase 「すら ; sura」-> even 「ままならん ; mama naran」-> beyond one’s control; unable to do as one wishes

= “Since after the first war ended, I decided to do so, but I not I am not even able to stand on my own anymore.”

Mamanaru combines the words mama “as it is; as one likes” and naranai “to be unable to” to create a word that describes that something is beyond one’s control, one is unable to do as they wish or something is not going the way one wants it to. In other words, a great word to sum up Endeavor’s entire life story.

The way he continuously takes over conversations that are supposed to be about the entire family - aka his victims - and makes it about himself while pitying himself - in front of his victims - never fails to impress me. At least he is consistent I guess, but it would have been great to see him actually change in the end. Surely he is done, oh no, nevermind, he keeps talking- 

「ヒーローエンデヴァーは焼かれて死んだ

おまえの炎は誰よりも強かった」

「ヒーロー ; hiirou」-> hero 「エンデヴァー ; endevaa」-> Endeavo 「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle 「焼かれて ; yakarete」-> burned 「死んだ ; shinda」-> died 「おまえ ; omae」-> you 「の ; no」-> possessive particle; similar to an apostrophe 「炎 ; honoo」-> flame 「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle 「誰 ; dare」-> anyone 「よりも ; yorimo」-> more than 「強かった ; tsuyokatta」-> was strong

= “The hero Endeavor was burned and died. Your flames were stronger than anyone else’s.”

「そっか　ご愁傷様　事が済んでから諂うなよ…卑怯者…」

「そっか ; sokka」-> I see 「ご愁傷様 ; goshuushousama」-> my condolences 「事 ; koto」-> things; matter 「が ; ga」-> subject marker particle 「済んでから」-> after it ended (済む + てから) 「諂う ; hetsurau」-> to flatter; to suck up to; to carry favour 「な ; na」-> na (negative command form) 「よ ; yo」-> emphasis particle 「卑怯者 ; hikyoumono」-> coward

= “I see. My condolences. Don’t suck up to me after it’s over… coward…”

Here is my beef with the official translation: they keep making Touya say the most random words and phrases, but then don’t make him say “don’t curry favour”?? “Don’t be toady”?? “Don’t be toady, Todoroki” would go so hard… wait… you know what… Here’s a little extra from me to you:

Back to business:

「そうだな　燈矢は誰のことをよくわかって��　ずっと見てたんだもんな」

「そう ; sou」-> so; that way 「だ ; da」-> be 「な ; na」-> sentence ending particle; used to seek confirmation 「燈矢 ; touya」-> Touya 「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle 「誰 ; dare」-> anyone 「の ; no」-> possessive particle; similar to an apostrophe 「こと ; koto 」-> nominalizes prior word/phrase 「を ; o」-> direct object marker 「よく ; yoku」-> well 「わかってる ; wakatteru」-> to understand 「ずっと ; zutto」-> continuously 「見てた ; miteta」-> was watching 「んだ ; nda」-> explanatory particle 「もん ; mon」-> because; indicates reason 「な ; na」-> sentence ending particle; used to seek confirmation

= “That’s right, isn’t it. You know everyone so well. Because you have been watching continuously.”

「俺に見てほしかったんだもんな

なのに見なかった…」

「俺 ; ore」-> I  「に ; ni」-> at 「見てほしかった ; mitehoshikatta」-> wanted me to look 「んだ ; nda」-> explanatory particle 「もん ; mon」-> because; indicates reason 「な ; na」-> sentence ending particle; used to seek confirmation 「なのに ; nanoni」-> and yet; despite that 「見なかった ; minakatta」-> didn’t look

= “You wanted me to look, right? Despite that I didn’t look…”

If I didn’t know any better I would say this was a conversation with a toddler. I usually like to point out that Horikoshi really nails the sibling experience, but he is also, unfortunately, really good at accurately writing how privileged middle-aged men talk. A mangaka of many talents, but at what cost?

「俺はお父さんの子どもなんだから」

「俺 ; ore」-> I  「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle 「お父さん ; otousan」-> dad 「の ; no」-> possessive particle; similar to an apostrophe 「子ども ; kodomo」-> child 「なんだ ; nanda」-> explanatory particle 「から ; kara」-> because; so

= “Because I am dad’s child.”

「おまえはエンデヴァーじゃない！！」

「おまえ ; omae」-> you 「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle 「エンデヴァー ; endevaa」-> Endeavor 「じゃない ; janai」-> isn’t

= ”You aren’t Endeavor!!”

Yes. That’s why we love him.

「誰が何と言おうと........　おまえの炎（ねつ）は俺のヘルフレイムだ

あの告発映像を毎日見続けている」

「誰 ; dare」-> someone 「が ; ga」-> subject marker particle 「何と ; nanto」-> what 「言うと ; iou to」-> to try to say 「おまえ ; omae」-> you 「の ; no」-> possessive particle; similar to an apostrophe 「炎 ; honoo」-> flames 「ねつ ; netsu」-> heat; rage; mania 「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle 「俺 ; ore」-> I  「の ; no」-> possessive particle; similar to an apostrophe 「ヘルフレイム ; herufureimu」-> Hell Flame 「だ ; da」-> be 「あの ; ano」-> that 「告発 ; kokuhatsu」-> complaint; prosecution 「映像 ; eizou」-> footage 「を ; o」-> direct object marker 「毎日 ; mainichi」-> every day 「見続けている ; mitsuzuketeiru」-> continue to watch

= “Whatever people try to say… Your flames (rage) are my Hellflame. I’ve continuously watched your prosecution video every day.”

This wouldn’t be a translation breakdown if we didn’t have a case of the furigana don’t match the kanji! Essentially what this means is that the furigana - written in brackets - show what the character says out loud, while the kanji shows what the character means. This time, when we get the kanji for flames in the second sentence, the furigana read netsu, which can meat “heat”, but also refer to “rage” or “mania” and since flames are hot, “heat” wouldn’t make it necessary to opt for a different reading, hence Endeavor is saying that the rage of Dabi was, in fact, Endeavor’s Hellflame.

「おどお゙さん見で」

「おどお゙さん ; odoosan」-> dad 「見で ; mide」-> look

= “Dad, look”

You might notice that the words are spelled differently from the normal otousan and mite. Softening the t sounds to a d sound highlights the difficulties he has speaking while being on fire. In addition to the softened t to d, the u also gets changed into an o with dakuten (the two lines on top), which only exist for the sounds that can become softer (t->d, h->b, k->g, s->j), which can’t be done to a vowel like o. In this case, the dakuten suggests that the o is said with emotion and somehow stands out from how it would be said normally.

「これからー」

「これから ; korekara」-> from now on

= “From now on-”

「毎日来る　話をしよう」

「毎日 ; mainichi」-> every day 「来る ; kuru 」-> to come 「話 ; hanashi」-> talk; conversation; chat 「を ; o」-> direct object marker 「しよう ; shiyou」-> let’s do/have

= “I will come every day. Let’s talk.”

「あまりに遅すぎたけれど話そう」

「あまりに; amari ni」-> too much; overly 「遅すぎた ; ososugita」-> was too late 「けれど ; keredo」-> however 「話そう ; hanasou」-> let’s talk

= “I was much too late, but let’s talk.”

Both amari ni and adding -sugiru to the stem of a verb can be translated as “too much” and in combination place an additional emphasis on the verb, in this case, being late, which could be referencing anything from the specific instances he showed up to too late (i.e. when Touya set himself on fire on Sekoto Peak) or in a more general sense him trying to show up as a father too late (the only example would be showing up in the hospital here and the fact he has retired and plans on protecting the family from facing any consequences for all of this, although even that is still more the bare minimum of making up for his mistakes rather than being a father but I doubt he understands the difference).

「心拍数上昇これ以上は負担が」

「心拍数 ; shinpakusuu」-> heart rate 「上昇 ; joushou」-> rising; ascending 「これ以上 ; kore ijou」 - > any more; any further; any longer 「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle 「負担 ; futan」-> burden, load 「が ; ga」-> subject marker particle

= “His heart rate is rising. Any more will (be) a burden.”

The ga would normally be followed by a verb (in this case most likely kakaru = to put), but is being omitted here as the meaning can be understood regardless.

「冷　夏雄　冬美　焦凍が…　残してくれた時間で話そう」

「冷 ; rei」-> Rei 「夏雄 ; natsuo」-> Natsuo 「冬美 ; fuyumi」-> Fuyumi 「焦凍 ; shouto」-> Shouto 「が ; ga」-> subject marker particle 「残してくれた」-> reserved for us (残す+くれる) 「時間 ; jikan」-> time 「で ; de」-> with 「話そう ; hanasou」-> let’s talk

= “Rei, Natsuo, Fuyum. Let’s talk with the time Shouto reserved for us.

Adding -tekureta after nokosu implies that someone did a favor for the speaker. Here, it means that Shouto reserved the time to talk to Touya for them.

「憎いなら…憎いと　なんでもいい　ぶつけてくれ…！」

「憎い ; nikui」-> hateful 「なら ; nara」-> if 「憎い ; nikui」-> hateful 「と ; to」-> speech particle 「なんでもいい ; nandemo ii」-> anything is fine; it doesn’t matter what 「ぶつけてくれ ; butsuketekure」-> throw it at me

= “If you hate me… hate me. Anything is fine, throw it at me…!!”

「燈矢兄私も…！」

「燈矢兄 ; touya nii」-> Touya-Nii 「私 ; watashi」-> I 「も ; mo」-> also; too

= “Touya-nii, me too…!”

「話したい事たくさんあるの」

「話したい ; hanashitai」-> want to talk 「事 ; koto」-> things 「たくさん ; takusan」-> a lot 「ある ; aru」-> to be 「の ; no」-> explanatory particle

= “There are a lot of things I want to talk about.”

This is about him getting piercings and dying his hair isn’t it. Maybe even taking off his shirt on live TV in front of the entire country. If only we could see that conversation…

「今日は止めにしましょう！！また明日にでも…」

「今日 ; kyou」-> today 「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle 「止めにしましょう , yame ni shimashou」-> let’s stop 「また ; mata」-> again 「明日 ; asu」-> tomorrow 「に ; ni」-> at 「でも ; demo」-> or something

= “Let’s stop for today!! (You can come back) tomorrow or something…”

「最後に一ついいですか　聞きたかったことあるんだ」

「最後 ; saigo」-> final 「に ; ni」-> at 「一つ ; hitotsu」-> one 「いい ; ii」-> good 「です ; desu」-> to be 「か ; ka」-> question marker particle 「聞きたかった」-> wanted to ask 「こと ; koto」-> thing 「ある ; aru」-> to be 「んだ ; nda」-> explanatory particle

= “Can I (ask) one last thing? Because there is one thing I wanted to ask.”

The first panel or first sentence ends in the polite form using desu ka as he is asking the employee for permission to ask one more question. The second panel or sentence, on the other hand, is casual as it ends in da, so without even waiting to receive an answer from the employee, he instantly goes to directly address Touya-nii for this extremely important question.

「燈矢兄　好きな食べ物何？」

「燈矢兄 ; touya nii」-> Touya-Nii 「好きな ; suki」-> to like 「食べ物 ; tabemono」-> food 「何 ; nani」-> what

= “Touya-nii. What’s your favorite food?”

Everybody liked that. It was really great when the spoilers came out and as soon as Shouto said he wanted to ask Touya something everyone instantly knew what the question was going to be. Also a lot of pressure for Touya. Wrong answer and his little brother can pull the plug. 

「......体力の限界ですね今日は眠らせてまた…」

「体力 ; tairyoku」-> stamina; endurance 「の ; no」-> possessive particle; similar to an apostrophe 「限界 ; genkai」-> limit 「です ; desu」-> to be 「ね ; ne」-> sentence ending particle; used to seek confirmation 「今日 ; kyou」-> today 「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle 「眠らせて ; nemurasete」-> to let someone sleep 「また ; mata」-> again

= “This is the limit, isn’t it. Let’s let him sleep again for today.”

「蕎麦」

「蕎麦 ; soba」-> soba

= “Soba.”

These lines are always my favorite to break down. It’s not easy translating such complex phrases so please recognize the years of studying it took to be able to perfectly translate this kind of high-level sentence. Thank you.

I can only imagine him going back to his classmates, looking at Bakugo and saying: “You were wrong. It’s soba.”

「おんなじだ」

「おんなじ ; onnaji」-> same 「だ ; da」-> be

= “It’s the same.”

Usually, the word same is written as 同じ and read as onaji. In itself, these two spellings have the same meaning, however, the more standard onaji would be used in the sense of something or a situation being exactly the same, for example attending the same school as someone or facing the same problem. Onnaji, on the other hand, indicates something has very similar properties and is used more in the sense of the same color, taste etc, which is why this spelling has a bit more emotion associated with it.

So Shouto is saying that it’s the same, but he says so with emotion. Rather than stating a fact, them having the same food holds meaning to him. 

「これ以上は平行線だ　交わるよ　無理にでも」

「これ以上 ; kore ijou」-> from here on; any further 「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle 「平行線 ; heikousen」-> remaining far apart; not reaching an agreement 「だ ; da」-> be 「交わる ; majiwaru」-> to cross; to mingle with 「よ ; yo」-> emphasis particle 「無理に ; muri ni」-> forcible; forced 「でも ; demo」-> even

= “From here on it’s parallel lines. I will cross, even if by force.”

「焦凍…　ごめんな…」

「焦凍 ; shouto」-> Shouto 「ごめん ; gomen」-> I‘m sorry 「な ; na」-> used to say something emotionally

= “Shouto… I’m sorry…”

If only… Shouto had heard this… and they could’ve talked about this… that would be crazy, right? No, why don’t we focus on the main character again, instead of getting a conversation the entire story has been building up to.

「俺はここまでだわ　悪いけど気持ち変わんない　俺はもう付き合わない」

「俺 ; ore」-> I  「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle 「ここ ; koko」-> here 「まで ; made」-> until 「だ ; da」-> be 「わ ; wa」-> 「悪い ; warui」-> sorry 「けど ; kedo」-> but 「気持ち ; kimochi」-> feelings 「変わんない ; kawannai」-> unchanged 「俺 ; ore」-> I  「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle 「もう ; mou」-> already 「付き合わない ; tsukiawanai」-> don’t associate with

= “For me it’s (ending) here. I’m sorry, but my feelings haven’t changed. I won’t associate with you anymore.”

The particle wa is used when reflecting one’s view toward a situation after coming to a conclusion. There is a nuance of confidently affirming the phrase or regretting the situation, depending on the tone, which we don’t have here, but this reads more as a confident statement than one of regret, although it might just be a little bit of both.

「ああ」

「ああ ; aa」-> Ah

= “Ah.”

「彼女と籍入れたい　式は挙げない紹介もしない」

「彼女 ; kanojo」-> girlfriend 「と ; to」-> with 「籍入れたい ; seki iretai」-> to get married; to want to have a name entered in the family register 「式 ; shiki」-> (wedding) ceremony 「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle 「挙げない ; agenai」-> to conduct 「紹介 ; shoukai」-> introduction 「も ; mo」-> also 「しない ; shinai」-> won’t do

= “I want to enter the family register with my girlfriend. We won’t conduct a ceremony and I also won’t introduce you.”

Normally, to talk about marriage or getting married you would use the word kekkon (suru). Here, Natsuo specifically uses the term “to enter in the family registry.” While these two words can be used to mean the same thing (= getting married), entering the family registry differs in that one person enters an already existing family registry rather than creating a new one upon marriage, which is why this can also be used for when a child gets adopted by a step-parent or if a child takes on their other parent’s last name after a divorce.

Again, this can just be treated as a synonym for getting married, but it might also be to emphasize this as an act of removing himself from his father rather than an act of love. It surely feels like an odd time to be thinking of marriage, with the current situation not having him in the right mental or emotional state for such a big step to be smart (he already did the whole “cutting my hair during a crisis” so he should follow that with dying his hair or something else that is going to affect his life less than marriage).

Let’s face it: had he said this while they were with Touya, his big bro’s heart monitor would have gone crazy before he would have broken out of that machine to talk some sense into his little brother.

Also, not to insult Natsuo because he is very sweet, but I just have to mention the irony of him getting married as a means to solve his issues when that was also his dad’s first step. It’s obviously different, but still worth pointing out.

「ああ…分かったな」

「ああ ; aa」-> Ah 「分かった ; wakatta」-> understood 「な ; na」-> sentence ending particle; used to seek confirmation

= “Ah, I get it.”

「姉ちゃんは？仕事やめたんだろ？」

「姉ちゃん ; neechan」-> big sister 「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle 「仕事 ; shigoto」-> job 「やめた ; yameta」-> to quit 「ん ; n」-> explanatory particle 「だろ ; daro」-> right

= “What about you, big sis? You left your job, right?”

I do like the symbolism of him standing in the middle of the street, ready to use the crosswalk, while the rest of the family remain on the side of the road, but I am also worried he is going to get hit by a car.

「うんでも　生徒のお母さんが新しい職場紹介してくれてねサポートしてくれるって」

「うん ; un」-> yeah 「でも ; demo」-> but 「生徒 ; seito」-> student 「の ; no」-> possessive particle; similar to an apostrophe 「お母さん ; okaasan」-> mom 「が ; ga」-> subject marker particle 「新しい ; atarashii」-> new 「職場 ; shokuba」-> workplace 「紹介してくれて ; shoukai shitekurete」-> introduced me (as a favor) 「ね ; ne」-> sentence ending particle; used to seek confirmation 「サポートしてくれる ; sapooto shitekureru」-> support (as a favor) 「って ; tte」-> quoting particle (casual of という)

= “Yeah, but the mom of a student introduced me to a new workplace. So she’s being supportive.”

Similar to before, the -tekurete suggests that this introduction as well as the support is seen as a favor.

「........正直責任は果たしたと思う　罰も受けたと思う…もういいんじゃねーの？」

「正直 ; shoujiki」-> honestly; frankly 「責任 ; sekinin」-> duty 「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle 「果たした ; hatashita」-> accomplished; carried out 「と思う ; to omou」-> to think 「罰 ; batsu」-> punishment 「も ; mo」-> too 「受けた ; uketa」-> received 「と思う ; to omou」-> to think 「もういい ; mou ii」-> that’s enough 「ん ; n」-> explanatory particle 「じゃねー ; janee」-> isn’t 「のか ; noka-> question marker particle seeking an explanation

= “Frankly, I think we’ve fulfilled our responsibilities. I think we already received our punishment. That’s enough, isn’t it?”

This line has gotten some negative attention as fan translations have this line directed toward Endeavor, whereas the official English translation has this line be directed toward the entire family. As you can see in the breakdown above, there is no explicit human subject in this sentence to clarify who is being addressed here, in addition to the fact that he has his back turned to us readers with no indication as to who he is looking at.

However, the last person he directly addressed was Fuyumi, who was also the one speaking right before this line. Furthermore, the next line is Endeavor saying that he will ensure to take the blame and whatnot from here on out so that they do not need to face any more consequences for this.

With that being said, to me this reads as him talking to the family, specifically as a response to Fuyumi suggesting that her former student’s mother introducing her to a new workplace and supporting her is somewhat of a favor. While we don’t know exactly why she left her job, there is still a suggestion that this situation has impacted her negatively and that people showing support is somehow worth noting. And yes, Japan has a culture of blaming the entire family when a family member commits a crime, however, Natsuo’s line then seems somewhat frustrated at this, feeling as though they all already faced consequences (like Fuyumi leaving her job), and that they shouldn’t have to face consequences for the rest of their lives, let alone feel overly grateful for any person that still treats them as individuals rather than an accomplice for something they had nothing to do with.

Overall, this line reads more like he wants them to be able to move past this, rather than have this now haunt them after they have already been struggling their whole lives by growing up in the Todoroki household.

「犯した罪の賠償と謝罪を一生をかけて続けていく

見ていなくていい子どもたち（おまえたち）に降りかかる火の粉をできる限り俺が受け止める　生き延びた意味があるとすればそれだけなんだ」

「犯した ; okashita」-> committed 「罪 ; tsumi」-> crime; sin 「の ; no」-> possessive particle; similar to an apostrophe 「賠償 ; baishou」-> compensation; reparations 「と ; to」-> with 「謝罪 ; shazai」-> apology 「を ; o」-> direct object marker 「一生 ; issho」-> whole life 「を ; o」-> direct object marker 「かけて ; kakete」-> make; put out 「続けていく ; tsuzuketeiku 」->to continue from now on (続ける+いく) 「見ていなくて ; mitenakute」-> not looking 「いい ; ii」-> good; okay 「子どもたち ; kodomotachi」-> children 「おまえたち ; omaetachi」-> you (plural) 「に ; ni」-> to 「降りかかる ; furikakaru」-> to happen; to befall 「火の粉 ; hi no ko」-> sparks 「を ; o」-> direct object marker 「できる ; dekiru」-> to be able to 「限り ; kagiri」-> limit; degree 「俺 ; ore」-> I  「が ; ga」-> subject marker particle 「受け止める ; uketomeru」-> to catch; to stop the blow 「生き延びた ; ikinobita」-> survived; lived long 「意味 ; imi」-> meaning 「が ; ga」-> subject marker particle 「ある ; aru」-> to exist 「とすれば ; to sureba」-> then; if so; if 「それだけ ; soredake」-> that much; to that extent; only that 「なんだ ; nanda」-> explanatory particle

= “From here on out I will continue to make reparations and apologize for my committed crimes for my whole life. I will catch as much of the sparks that fall on you kids who don’t have to watch. If there is any meaning in my survival, it is just that.”

Again, he says “you” but means “children”. The miteinakute ii is used to say that “it’s okay not to watch”, in other words he does not expect them to keep in touch with him or anything along those lines.

The -teiku after tsuzukeru is used to imply that something will continue from this moment forward. While he didn't make up for his mistakes, from now on he will.

「........地獄だぞ」

「地獄 ; jigoku」-> hell 「だ ; da」-> be 「ぞ ; zo」-> emphasizes the speaker’s will or opinion; can be inviting to the listener

= “........It’s hell.”

「ああダンスの誘いを受けたんでな」

「ああ ; aa」-> Ah 「ダンス ; dansu」-> dance 「の ; no」-> possessive particle; similar to an apostrophe 「誘い ; sasoi」-> invitation 「を ; o」-> direct object marker 「受けた ; uketa」-> to accept 「んでな ; ndena」-> explanatory particle

= “Ah, I did accept the dance invitation.”

「…初めてだよ　お父さんの事　かっこいいって思えたの」

「初めて ; hajimete」-> first time  「だ ; da」-> be 「よ ; yo」-> emphasis particle 「お父さん ; otousan」-> dad 「の ; no」-> possessive particle; similar to an apostrophe 「事 ; koto」-> nominalizes prior word/phrase 「かっこいい ; kakkoii」-> cool 「って思えた ; tte omoeta」-> to seem; to appear 「の ; no」-> explanatory particle

= “It was the first time that you seemed cool.”

 Natsuo has called Endeavor by many (disrespectful) names. This is the first time he calls him by the standard/polite term for father. This is not to say that he likes him now. With the whole marriage talk in mind, this feels more like him letting go of his feelings for a second to make a somewhat neutral statement. Neutral in the sense of being able to recognize and view something his dad has done in a positive light rather than letting his feelings completely take over his judgment.

「焦凍は？学校戻るんだろ？」

「焦凍 ; shouto」-> Shouto 「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle 「学校 ; gakkou」-> school 「戻る ; modoru」-> to return to 「ん ; n」-> explanatory particle 「だろ ; daro」-> I think; right?

= “What about you, Shouto? You’re returning to school, right?”

「うん」

「うん ; un」-> yeah

= “Yeah.” 

「乗ってけよ姉ちゃんも」　

「乗ってけ ; notteke」-> I’ll give you a ride 「よ ; yo」-> emphasis particle 「姉ちゃん ; neechan」-> big sis  「も ; mo」-> also; too

= “I’ll give you a ride. Nee-chan, too.”

「ありがとう」

「ありがとう ; arigatou」-> thanks

= “Thanks.”

「親父　お母さん　俺にはA組（みんな）いるから大丈夫だよ！　俺は自分でなりてえようになれるから！」

「親父 ; oyaji」-> dad 「お母さん ; okaasan」-> mom 「俺 ; ore」-> I  「には ; niwa」-> as for 「A組 ; e gumi」-> class A  「みんな ; minna」-> everyone  「いる ; iru」-> to be  「から ; kara」-> therefore  「大丈夫 ; daijoubu」-> alright  「だ ; da」-> be 「よ ; yo」-> emphasis particle 「俺 ; ore」-> I  「は ; wa」-> topic marker particle 「自分 ; jibun」-> myself  「で ; de」-> with 「なりてえ ; naritee」-> want to become (casual of naritai)  「ようになれる ; you ni nareru」-> to reach the point where; to come to; to begin to 「から ; kara」-> because; so

= “Dad, mom. I’ll be okay because of Class A (everyone). I can reach the point of being what I want to be!”

Just like before we get furigana that differ from the kanji. Shouto says that he will be alright because everyone is there, but he specifically means Class A when he says that.

「地獄でも」

「地獄 ; jigoku」-> hell  「でも ; demo」-> even though

= “Even though it’s hell.”

「おーう早かったな！！大丈夫だったかあ！？」

「おーう ; ou」-> Ooh 「早かった ; hayakatta」-> early 「な ; na」-> sentence ending particle; used to seek confirmation 「大丈夫 ; daijoubu」-> alright 「だった ; datta」-> was 「かあ ; kaa」-> question marker particle

= “Oh, you’re early! Was it alright!?”

「おなかすいた」

「おなかすいた ; onaka suita」-> I’m starving

= “I’m starving.”

「見てる人がいる」

「見てる ; miteru」-> looking 「人 ; hito」-> person 「が ; ga」-> subject marker particle 「いる ; iru」-> to be

= “There is someone who is watching.”

Me. I’m the one watching. But at what cost? The family’s two most used words have got to be “hell” and “to look” . Someone please teach them some more words.

That concludes the Todoroki family interaction in this chapter and supposedly for the story (everyone disliked that). Personally, this does not read as a conclusion so I am going to just treat this as the beginning of the conclusion, instead. And perhaps the final in the sense of the whole family not getting together anymore because Natsuo isn’t going to be around Endeavor anymore.

Personally, my biggest issue with this chapter is the fact that while it’s called final and set up as though the family and we finally get closure by everyone reuniting with Touya, it’s just another episode of self-pitying with a grown-ass man that has still not changed or understood anything despite everything. Yes, he finally managed to talk to Touya, to apologize and acknowledge both Touya’s pain as well as his own accountability in the entire affair. However, the rest of the family could have been left out of this chapter entirely since they said nothing other than “we have lots to talk about” which is obviously a beginning, but I’m sure we all have been waiting patiently to get an actual conversation not just hear them say that they want to talk at a later point, which we then won't ever get to see.

The soba part is amazing, of course, but it could and should have played a bigger role in this chapter.

People have been expressing various opinions in regards to the family’s current situation and their future, though - again - it would be great to see more of that because this chapter only briefly touched on various interesting points and then didn’t explore these points more because if there is one thing this world needs more is privileged people whining about how hard their life is and the many sacrifices they have had to make (= barely facing consequences).

That being said, we’ll see what the final 4 chapters will offer and whether we will see the Todoroki family make another appearance.

And no, Touya won’t die.

[rin-fukuroi]

Could I request Argenti getting overstimulated by his s/o and turned into a whimpering, sobbing mess via pegging?

Hi! (^０^)ノ

I wanted to write this earlier, but decided that this sketch would be the best snack in front of his banner~

𝐈𝐦𝐦𝐚 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 [𝐀𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢]

Please do not translate or publish my works without my permission.

The originals of my works can be read here

Fandom: Honkai: Star Rail

Pairings: sub!Argenti x dom!fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, overstimulation, oral sex, pegging.

▶• ılıılıılıılıılıılı. Facading — Freefalling

Note: English is not my native language, so I apologize if there are errors in the text qq

I wish everyone good luck on his banner! Let the beautiful knight with a bouquet of fresh roses fly to all who are waiting for him! (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧ And, God, I think this song is just perfect for Argenti. This voice reminds me of him.

Luxurious curly scarlet strands stuck to the forehead of the poor Knight, barely restraining himself from going crazy from the heat spreading under his porcelain skin. You are so cruel, plunging his trembling cock deep into the warmth of your mouth over and over again, making the man feel like he is teetering precariously on the verge of a blissful orgasm, but each time you pull him back, not allowing him to step into the desired abyss. Your fingers slide over the heated skin of Argenti's thighs, only intensifying the almost unbearable pleasure that turns the noble knight into a whimpering boy begging you to let him cum.

— Not yet, — tiny beads of tears can be seen in the corners of clouded emerald eyes when you shamelessly take his cock out of your divine mouth again at the moment when Argenti's hips trembled again in your hands, signaling that he was about to cum, which you did not want at all. — Let's do it again, huh? I know you can handle it.

Your smug face blurs before the Knight's eyes as he struggles to hold back tears, desperately biting his lower lip.

— Y/N… My Lady, I beg you… I can't take it anymore, — the man's velvety voice trembles as he whispers huskily, covering his flushed face with his palm and looking away, too embarrassed that you see him in such a mess.

— Well, well, isn't lying against the Knight's code of honor? — you tease, gently sliding your palm up and down the throbbing hard flesh of Argenti's almost painfully aroused cock, playfully running your tongue over the urethra, salty from pre-ejaculate.

The long, elegant fingers of the Knight's free hand are desperately clutching the sheets. The muscles of his prominent abs and muscular forearms are so delightfully tense under the onslaught of waves of pleasure that you let through his body, slowly sinking the pulsating flesh of Argenti's dick deep into the walls of your throat, perfectly contracting around his impressive girth. By now, the Knight has managed to lose all sense of self-esteem, now breaking down into pathetic moans whenever the knot at the bottom of his stomach inevitably trembled from your touch. Those obscene dirty sounds that your soft lips make, sliding up and down the hard flesh as you suck in your cheeks, squeezing even tighter around poor Argenti's cock, only drive him even more crazy. How much longer are you going to keep doing this? Maybe this time you'll finally let him come? He would like to say that he has already lost hope, but for some reason, every time the Knight feels another wave rolling over his trembling body, foreshadowing perhaps the most vivid orgasm in his life, it seems to him that now… now he will be able to cross the line, he will be able to dissolve into pure bliss…

But you still take away from him everything he so passionately desires, thrusting his cock out of your mouth again with a sinful squelching sound. You grin, feeling Argenti's hips squeeze on either side of your shoulders, and watching his perfect body squirm while the men whimper, burying their faces deeper into the pillow, not daring to meet your gaze.

— You did so well for me, Argenti, — you straighten up, climbing onto the man's lap and gently running your palms over his heaving, tense chest.

The poor Knight sobs, hesitantly removing his hand from his face to finally look at you again when you get up from his legs, slowly tightening the straps on your hips. The man's turquoise eyes widen in amazement when he notices a menacingly large dildo between your legs spread on both sides of his knees, while you reach for a small tube of lubricant standing on the bedside table.

— Y/N… I'm not sure.…

— Hush, — you calm the nervously swallowing Argenti. His bleary, red-rimmed eyes watch warily as the viscous transparent liquid slowly drips onto the black silicone toy. Your tiny palm gently slides along the length of the toy cock, distributing the lubricant, and you tilt your head to one side, grinning at the funny reaction of the confused man under you. — You want to cum, don't you?

The Knight's hips shudder when he feels the cool, wet tip of your toy pressing insistently against his ass.

— I'll be gentle, I promise. You believe me, don't you? — the fingertips of your free hand gently touch Argenti's lower abdomen, sending goosebumps up his spine, and a languid sigh escapes from the man's throat as he nods hesitantly, still slightly scared by the thought that all this will end up inside him. — Good boy.

You feel the muscles of the man's thighs contract under your palm, sliding down to grasp the elastic flesh of his leg, while you slowly, carefully sink inside inch by inch, carefully watching how Argenti's eyebrows frown, how his snow-white teeth bite into his soft lower lip, and emerald eyes shine from the newly turning tears in the soft dim light. He's so beautiful when he's teetering precariously between fear and anticipation, feeling his walls instinctively shrink and inevitably stretch around a slippery toy that fills his insides so easily that you can barely restrain yourself from making a sharp push. Ah, you sure that the sounds that you could pluck from his lips with such a careless movement would be no less excellent than the languid sighs that now fill your bedroom.

However, no matter how cruel you were tonight, you wanted to enjoy a little more the charming sight of your artificial cock slowly disappearing, sinking further into the tight walls without a minute of dishonored Knight.

As soon as your hips finally press against the elastic flesh of Argenti's buttocks, the man's back arches so gracefully, and his dick shudders, pressed against the bottom of his stomach, that you can not restrain a smug laugh, clasping the Knight's second thigh with your now free palm. His heels are pressing so desperately into your coccyx, while Argenti unconsciously tries to just hold you for a moment like this, wrapping his trembling legs around your waist.

— Ho—oh, if you want, I can leave this thing in you for at least the whole day, — you tease the flushed Argenti, breathing heavily out of his lungs.

— N-no! I'm sorry, My Lady…

— Good… Good boy, Argenti, — you say affectionately, slowly slipping your toy out of his tight insides only to fill him again just as painfully languidly.

The hard, swollen flesh shudders relentlessly on the man's stomach every time your hips meet his ass more and more insistently. You're slow, which makes Argenti even more of a mess. His long shiny strands of hair are so beautifully scattered on the soft pillows, as if your bed is covered with scarlet rose petals, his porcelain skin glistens slightly from tiny drops of sweat that inevitably flow down the relief of his torso, the muscles of which look even more impressive when strained under the pressure of crushing pleasure. Argenti is truly beautiful at every moment of his life, whenever your gaze falls on his divine figure, but now you feel as if you have created a real masterpiece.

— Why don't you help yourself down there? I don't mind, — you smile softly, noticing how the heavy eyelids of a man lost in bliss open slightly, and you are greeted by a sparkling look of hope from magnificent emerald eyes. — Although I'll never get tired of just fucking you like this, but my loyal Knight deserves a reward, doesn't he?

Argenti exhales, hesitantly letting go of the crumpled sheet before moving his hand to his needy cock.

Although your touch always feels much more pleasant, in the state in which Argenti is now, even touching your own hand becomes akin to the salvation that you graciously granted him. Long fingers wrap around the swollen base of his aching cock, and a groan of relief escapes from the Knight's chest as his head falls back, burrowing deeper into the soft pillow.

You lean over Argenti, now letting go of his trembling legs so that you can rest one hand on the soft mattress and stretch the other out to his beautiful face. The knight flinches when he feels the tips of your little fingers touching his lower lip, insistently slipping into his slightly open mouth. From this angle, your toy seems to penetrate the man lost in pleasure even deeper, forcing his tongue to stick out to meet your two fingers gently pressing on the slippery muscle.

— How beautiful… — you exhale heavily, looking at how Argenti's wet eyelashes tremble while he tries not to close his eyes. — It's a pity you can't see yourself now, a Knight of Beauty like no one else would appreciate the magnificent view that appears before my eyes.

The man's feet slide weakly off your belt, landing on the soft bed, while his hand desperately tightens his cock, dripping with pre-ejaculate, sliding up and down in time with your careless thrusts. Blissful impulses of pleasure drive poor Argenti crazy when he feels himself teetering on the edge again, breaking into sobs and stifled moans from your fingers continuing to press on his tongue. Viscous drops of saliva run down your phalanges and his chin. Argenti looks so pathetic, but so indescribably beautiful that you want to see more.

You want to see how his lovely flushed face, decorated with beads of tears, will distort when he finally gets what he wants.

— Cum for me, Argenti…

Your voice sounds so far away, buried under the frantic pulsations of Argenti's heart in his ears and your own moans bouncing off the walls of your bedroom, but even the sound of him saying his name softly was enough to make his chest press against yours when the Knight's hips came off the rumpled sheets again. Argenti has never felt his orgasm so vividly. It was like a bubble that had been storing up all the pleasure that you had been giving the poor Knight for hours, finally overflowed and burst, spreading blissful waves through every nerve in his body. You instantly pull your fingers out of his mouth, instead occupying his tongue and lips with a greedy kiss in which you swallow every pitiful sound that escapes from his throat. Your artificial cock slides into Argenti's contracting insides and perfect harmony in his own convulsive movements of his hand, desperately caressing a trembling dick while sticky drops of sperm spray over his tense stomach and thin fingers.

What did you do to him? Argenti has never felt so alive, so free and happy as at this very moment, while he could just go limp under your overhanging figure, basking in the blissful vibrations spreading under his skin.

And while you were enjoying the delightful masterpiece created by your hands, pulling away from the Knight's face.

Sparkling emerald eyes rolled under heavy eyelids, a few unruly curly strands stuck to Argenti's perfect relaxed face, his hands flopped down exhausted on the mattress, and his collarbones protrude so magnificently under thin pale skin when a man tries to catch his breath. It seemed like you completely lost him for a few moments, finally stopping your movements and just continuing to stay inside the Knight as he slowly returns to reality.

You carefully leave his ass, hastily unbuckling the straps and throwing the no longer needed toy aside before clinging to his lower abdomen, collecting with your tongue every viscous drop of his sperm splashed over the heated skin. His muscles flex reflexively at the sudden touch, and Argenti finally lazily opens his long eyelashes, meeting your narrowed, satisfied gaze as you pull away from his body, licking your lips with satisfaction.

— Even your taste is so perfect, — you reach out to brush the damp strands from his forehead, and smile softly, looking into the devoted turquoise eyes of the man below you.

Argenti looks away sheepishly before giving you a gentle smile. Although he gets indescribable pleasure showering you with all his boundless love, perhaps next time he won't say a word against it when you express a desire to play with his body again…

[secriden]

Watching Joong's Hurt Me Please MV with the context of how episode 6 ended and how this is likely a song about Fadel's thoughts and feelings about Style after Finding Out, I wanted to take a deeper look at the lyrics.

I have transcribed the English lyrics on Youtube side by side with a fan translated version (credit: bl_zonee on Twitter) just because there's different shades of meaning between them that I find really interesting and I'm curious which one is the more accurate translation or if both are valid, but just give different nuance. (Perhaps a mutual who understands Thai would be willing to give some insight? *u*)

Verse 1 makes a lot of sense to me: Fadel must be wondering how Style could be so cruel ("unkind" / "heartless") because every instance of Style being honest and asking for honesty in return, all of Style's genuine desperation to bare his heart to Fadel in episode 5 and 6, now looks like a calculated, cruel deception.

And after being so afraid to reveal his secret to Style for fear that it would make Style walk away from him, there's a painful irony in Fadel now wishing Style had walked away before. Because the betrayal hurts so much more now that Fadel has given in to his heart.

The chorus is where the nuance between the translations gets interesting.

The Youtube version seems almost like Fadel is taunting Style, putting up a front that he can take the pain Style is dishing out and more. It's like he's hiding behind the bravado of being able to handle the hurt, and even more.

The MV also depicts Style smiling sadistically after slapping Fadel, as if he's enjoying the pain he's inflicting. Meanwhile, Fadel looks up almost in adoration, a strange softness in his eyes at odds with how cruelly he's being treated. The knowledge of Style's betrayal has turned Style into a monster in Fadel's mind, one which he cannot help but to still have soft, affectionate feelings.

But the fan translation sounds much more hurt and accusatory. Fadel is expressing his pain and anguish much more plainly and "you did this to me" is a line that demands responsibility.

In both translations, though, the last line ("can't get enough" / "enjoying the pain") gives us a hint that Fadel isn't willing to give Style up even now. Despite the pain, despite feeling as if he's simultaneously burning up and drowning, there's a part of him that still wants this. That still wants Style.

Interestingly, as Fadel sings the last line he begins to visibly struggle against the rope tying him to the chair. The soft look vanishes and in place is a determination and shadow that spells trouble for Style. The shock is wearing off and Fadel is starting to fight back.

Verse 2 is where the agony really hits, for me.

In both versions, Fadel recognises the way Style's love was (maybe still is?) precious to him ("your love feeds my soul" / "your love nourished my heart"). But because Style's love is a lie, it's transformed into a weapon ("poison"). It twists Style's love into a source of "hurt" to Fadel.

Which is why I think both versions have a line where Fadel admits that there's a part of him that wants Style to keep hurting him -- or rather, to keep loving him; because these are the same thing to Fadel now -- ("hurt me, make me feel used" / "the more I was hurt the more I enjoyed it") whilst also remaining accusatory ("the more I loved, the more sorrow/I suffered").

The lines about "nothing left to write about our love" / "our story" also feel very pointed and final. A closing of a chapter; a closing of the possibility of their former, uncomplicated happily ever after. Style has nothing left to write (report) back to his superiors (the police) because Fadel's love is already complete and his deception has reached the inevitable conclusion of Fadel being found out/destroyed.

All this happens while we see Style continuing to threaten Fadel with a golf club and an almost crazed expression of glee juxtaposed with flashes of Fadel and Style in much happier times.

Also the fact that this line comes with this scene where Fadel lets Style kiss him despite “knowing” it’s all a lie *sobs uncontrollably*:

The first chorus comes back once and the music reaches a plateau. We are clearly preparing for a drop or a modulation and we get exactly that (twice!) with the second chorus:

Here, both versions converge: Fadel is angry, he's furious. Style hurt him and he's going to repay all of it and more ("you'll hurt [by much more]" / "you must suffer more than I did"). The lyrics tell us that, while Fadel cannot take back the hurt (take back his love), he can certainly ensure he isn't alone in the suffering (this love will also hurt Style).

It is at this part where my heart sank as I realised that Fadel's "I think I love you" line in episode 6 now takes on a much more sinister tone.

Because I think that discovering Style's betrayal was also what made Fadel realise the truth of his love for Style; the very agony he was in was the sign that Fadel's heart was lost to him. But even as it is true, I also think he still made the choice to ruin Style in the same breath. Because if Style could use Fadel’s love as a weapon then Fadel is going to use it (Fadel’s love) to hurt Style too.

A decision was made in this moment, and everything Fadel does afterwards in this scene is deliberate.

There is, however, one piece of hope:

Despite Fadel's expressed fury, what the MV shows us is Fadel breaking out of his bonds, shoving Style back and punching him once and then:

For all his anger, for all his rage, for all his threats of manifold vengeance, what we see is Fadel pressing close and kissing Style; once on the lips, and once on his chest (heart), all while the lyrics makes space for one last plea:

("don't betray me")

For me, its the way the line is shown together with this direct visual parallel between the ignorant Fadel in the past (left) and the Fadel of the present who has seen through Style's deception (right) that I find particularly compelling. Even now, even at the point of Fadel discovering Style's betrayal, there is still hope for forgiveness.

Because Fadel cannot help himself. Because Style made Fadel's bleeding heart whole again; and it beats, it feels, and despite how much it hurts, what Fadel still wants more than anything else in the world -- desperately and simply -- is Style.

[pumpkinhimiko]

"Mistranslations" that are not mistranslations

Now with an additional part 2.

NISA has made plenty of mistakes while translating the Danganronpa series (and I've complained about them before), and so they have a reputation of being untrustworthy. But because of this reputation, I feel like fans are too quick to trust whatever anyone that isn't NISA states as absolute fact. So, I want to examine some instances of fan translators claiming NISA has mistranslated something, when, no, actually, they didn't.

Kokichi's last words

人にやらされるゲームなんて…楽しい訳あるかよ… A game you're forced to play... how could that be fun...

This is probably the most widespread myth in terms of "mistranslations that aren't", with the original post that makes this claim having over 2k notes: that Kokichi in the original Japanese actually says, "How could a game where you're forced to kill people be fun...?" Unfortunately, it's just not true. Fortunately for me, there's a reddit post here that breaks the line down in detail, so I don't have to do any work.

Anyway, I really wanted to make this post because of this thread, which makes several false claims.

 Kokichi says he's afraid of friends in general

オレは、そういう『仲間』が他人よりも怖いけどねー。I'm more afraid of those kinds of [friends] than strangers.

So... souiu, meaning that type of/that kind of is right there, directly before nakama (which can mean friend, especially if it's in a shounen anime, but can also just mean companion/member of a group). I don't understand how you can miss this. Not only is it right there, this claim on its face doesn't make sense. Why, in this context, would Kokichi suddenly blurt out that he's afraid of having friends? It has nothing to do with the conversation they're having.

Shuichi's words to Kokichi after the 4th trial

王馬くん、もういいだろ ? Ouma-kun, isn't this enough? その話を聞かせてくれよ。Tell us about that.

Okay, you've probably heard the phrase mou ii a lot if you watch anime, and it's almost always accompanied by a frustrated huff. Because it is, in fact, something you say when impatient, fed up, what have you. It literally means "good already", carrying pretty much the identical meaning of the English phrase, "that's enough" or "I've had enough". Shuichi does not say it's okay as in it's daijoubu, which is the word you use when trying to comfort someone. He is very much frustrated here and telling Kokichi to fess up.

Citation needed

I couldn't find a line like this in Kokichi's FTEs, but maaaaaaaybe I missed it? Shuichi's narration comments quite a few times on Kokichi acting childishly throughout the game, but I couldn't find anything like this in specific.

EDIT: Correction, I did find it, and it's covered in part two. Suffice to say, the OP got this line completely wrong.

That Kaito thing

Yeah this is patently false. It's also already been touched on in this thread with comments backing it up, so there’s another thing I don't have to get into. I'll put the text here though.

オレはテメーみて一に胸クソ悪い真似までして、If I have to mimic your sickening behavior, 生き残りて一とは思わねーんだよ。I don't think I want to survive.

Shuichi's words to Kokichi after the 4th trial part deaux

I've seen varying claims on how these lines were translated, from them being slightly tweaked, to the claim they were completely butchered to make Saihara too aggressive. I'm just going to leave it here and let you come to your own conclusions.

ダサいのはキミの方だよ…王馬くん。The lame one is you... Ouma-kun.

百田くんの周りにはいつも人が集まってくる… Momota-kun always has people around him... でも、キミの周りには誰もいないじゃないか。But, there's no one around you.

キミは…その程度のヤツって事だよ。That's... what kind of person you are.

This is snappy in its own way, though, if you consider that 程度 is closer to meaning grade/level/degree rather than simply "type of". "That's the level of person you are," basically.

And if you doubt me on any of this, I encourage you to do your own research, get second opinions if you can. I know not everyone knows Japanese, in which case you can't really help but rely on someone else and hope their translation is accurate. That said, at the bare minimum, I think people should provide screenshots and the original Japanese text if they're going to claim something is a mistranslation. Like, I don't think you should be able to say "actually in Japanese Kokichi says he volunteers at animal shelters in his free time but NISA cut it!" and have half the fandom believe you with no proof.