#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

[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, César Vallejo, Luis Cernuda and Edgar Allan Poe, to name a few.

[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."

[haru-dipthong]

Did you know that the english word “star” and the japanese word 星（ほし）don’t actually mean the same thing?

Language does not simply name pre-existing categories; categories do not exist in 'the world'

— Daniel Chandler, Semiotics for Beginners

I read this quote a few years ago, but I don’t think I truly understood it until one day, when I was looking at the wikipedia article for “star” and I thought to check the Japanese article, see if I could get some Japanese reading practice in. I was surprised to find that the article was not titled 「星」, but 「恒星」, a word I’d never seen before. I’d always learnt that 星 was the direct translation for “star” (I knew the japanese also contained meanings the english didn’t, like “dot” or “bullseye”, but I thought these were just auxiliary definitions in addition to the direct translation of “star” as in "a celestial body made of hydrogen and helium plasma").

To try and clear things up for myself, I searched japanese wikipedia for 星. It was a disambiguation page, with the main links pointing to the articles for 天体 (astronomical object) and スター（記号）(star symbol). There was no article just called 「星」.

It’s an easy difference to miss, because in everyday conversation, 星 and star are equivalent. They both describe the shining lights in the night sky. They both describe this symbol: ★. They even both describe those enormous celestial objects made of plasma.

But they are different - different enough to not share a wikipedia article. 星 is used to describe any kind of celestial body, especially if it appears shiny and bright in the night sky. “Star” can be used this way too (like Venus being called the “morning star”), but it’s generally considered inaccurate to use the word like this, whereas there is no such inaccuracy with 星. You can say “oh that’s not actually a star, it’s a planet”, but you CAN’T say 「実はそれは星ではなく惑星だよ」 (TL: that’s not actually a hoshi, it’s a planet). A planet IS a 星.

星 is a very common word, essentially equivalent to “star”, but its meaning is closer to “celestial body”. I haven’t looked into the etymology/history but it’s almost like both english and japanese started out with a simple, common word for the lights in the sky - star/星 , but as we found out more about what these lights actually were, english doubled down on using the common word for the specific scientific concept, while japanese kept the common word generic and instead came up with a new word for the more specific concept. If this is actually what happened, I’d guess that kanji probably had something to do with it - 星 as a component kanji exists inside the word for planet, 惑星, and in the word for comet, 彗星, and in the scientific word for “star”, 恒星, so it makes sense that it would indicate a more general concept when used standalone.

This discovery helped me understand that quote - categories don’t exist in the world, we are the ones who create them. I thought that the concept of “star” was something that would be consistent across all languages, but it’s not, because the concept of “star” is not pre-existing. Each language had to decide how to name each of those similar star-like concepts (the ★ symbol, hot balls of gas, twinkling lights in the sky, planets, comets, etc), and obviously not every language is going to group those concepts under the same words with the same nuance.

Knowing this, one might be tempted to say that 恒星（こうせい） is the direct translation for “star”. But this isn’t true either. In most of the contexts that the word “star” is used in english, the equivalent japanese will be simply 星. Despite the meanings not lining up exactly, 星 will still be the best translation for “star” most of the time. This is the art of translation - knowing when the particulars are less important than the vibe or feel of a word. For any word, there will never be an exact perfect translation with all the same nuances and meanings. Translation is about finding the best solution to an unsolvable problem. That's why I love it.

[starcurtain]

A Closer Look at the Phaidei Memory

I've seen so many people talking about this scene with Phainon and Mydei and making fun of how blatantly obvious Phainon is about his... respect for Mydei's... conspicuous body, but one thing I feel like a lot of people missed (or at least I haven't seen anyone discussing) is that this memory seems to come from very early on in their acquaintance.

Looking at it closely, it's clear that the two aren't particularly familiar with each other yet in this memory sequence. For one, Phainon questions things that he should easily know if he was well-acquainted with Mydei already.

First, very comically: "Do you even bathe, bro?"

And second, Phainon questions why Mydei isn't immune to the black tide:

This suggests that, up to the point of this memory, Phainon had not been in enough battles with Mydei (or at least close enough to Mydei) to see him be affected by the black tide. Apparently, this memory-Phainon-and-Mydei don't have years of rushing into battle side-by-side to defend Okhema yet.

It's also hilariously clear that the Phainon in this memory has absolutely no idea how to talk to Mydei.

Breaking this scene down, it's literally Phainon just trying really hard to strike up conversation, doing his best to try to crack the tough exterior and get Mydei to actually interact with him. He jumps around through topics rapidly--the baths, the black tide, their personal sparring--looking for anything that will catch Mydei's attention.

Meanwhile, we can tell that Mydei is not particularly familiar or comfortable with Phainon yet because his dialogue is so different from any of his other scenes in the game. Although Mydei is obviously not the game's biggest yapper, he does always have full sentences to contribute to other conversations and banters readily with Phainon whenever he's baited into it.

In this memory, he instead starts off polite but also completely aloof:

This is the exact sort of response you'd have to a vague acquaintance coming up and trying to talk to you like you're best friends. Phainon skipped at least four steps of familiarity here, and Mydei is obviously at a loss for why the conversation is even happening.

He responds by blatantly stonewalling, answering Phainon's (slightly pathetic) attempts to start an actual conversation in nothing but single word answers:

You can even see Phainon recognize how bad he's failing half way through the conversation, which prompts him to vocally declare that he's going to make a complete topic switch:

And this time, it works!

When Phainon brings up their personal duel or spar, whichever it was, finally, finally Mydei caves and engages in the conversation with him:

Which prompts Phainon to laugh (in relief? lol) and flat out crow about how he's finally cracked the code and figured out how to get Mydei to notice him:

Poor Mydei, however, did not seem to realize his slight display of interest was going to lead him into a full conversation, and he responds to Phainon's blatant invitation to keep talking with a confused:

Witness Mydei accidentally turning down Phainon's request for a date in real time.

The only thing that complicates the situation is what Phainon says late in the memory: that they've battled "all this time." However, looking at his earlier comments, this last statement may just be in a general sense, as in "two Chrysos Heirs who have been fighting the titans for years," especially as the rest of the line "How do you train? Would you consider teaching me?" once again indicates a lack of close familiarity.

(It's also possible this line is just poorly translated in English, and was actually meant to refer to their legendary ten-day-long duel: "We battled all that time, yet I never saw you fatigued." Given the rest of the lines in the memory, I think "dodgy translation" honestly makes the most sense here, and would also just have really funny implications: Phainon and Mydei didn't fall in love at first sight; they fell in comically-long-duel at first sight. Okay, maybe for Phainon it was both.)

Phainon's earlier statements in the memory make it clear that he isn't very experienced with fighting Mydei specifically, with the overall implication of the dialogue being that they've just had their first duel against each other recently:

So anyway, where I am going with all this?

I know a lot of people got distracted by Phainon's (accidental?) pass at Mydei in the first line, but I think taking a step back and looking at the scene as a whole, in context, makes it even more hilarious and off-the-cuff:

Phainon and Mydei aren't well-acquainted in this scene.

Phainon literally walked up on a guy he barely knows and the first words that fell out of his mouth were "Dan Nicky your bobbies." "I would know that body anywhere."

Even Mydei was weirded out at first!

Like, Phainon has absolute foot-in-mouth syndrome around his new "friend." He spends the whole conversation narrating his own attempts to communicate ("Ah, I see I am unwanted. Instead of leaving, I shall try another tactic. Is it working yet?" and "Yes, yes, yes, it worked!") like this is a remotely normal thing to do around a person you're not even close with yet.

You can see his puppy tail wagging. He wants to be friends with Mydei so bad.

He is actively making up excuses to try to get Mydei to spend time with him here--first the comment about "Yay, you're here!" at the baths like he expects them to bathe together, then the whole "Why don't we go somewhere and have a long conversation about the insights we gained from rolling around in the dirt together?" to finally just flat out asking Mydei to train with him.

It's so charmingly earnest, straightforward, and even a bit awkward that I think this scene is really under-rated by the fans. It's not just another example of Phainon commenting on Mydei's muscles--it's a glimpse into what they were like before they were close and just how much Phainon wanted to connect to Mydei, how willing he was to explore to discover exactly what Mydei would be interested in so that he could seize that common ground between them.

Really a masterclass in showing us fans characterization right on the cusp of changing, and for showcasing both Phainon's charming audacity and Mydei's surprisingly-reserved-around-strangers behavior.

And, since we know the future that memory-Phainon-and-Mydei are headed toward... we also know it worked! Mydei is smiling by the end of the conversation! He and Phainon are going to become vitriolic best buds--er, rivals--and Phainon is going to get all the spars he wants.

Persistence pays off!

[vanteguccir]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤTWO IS ALWAYS BETTER * CHRATT

SUMMARY　::　where Y/N acts like a brat during a night out, and Matt and Chris have to put her in her place.

FEATURING　matt & chris sturniolo x reader　REQUESTED?　yes, by anon.

WARNINGS　::　smut (mdni), threesome, double penetration (p in v & p in a), degradation kink, praising kink, overstimulation, use of vibrator.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

The restaurant was buzzing with activity, the clinking of cutlery against plates, soft chatter filling the air, and the occasional laugh from a neighboring table. The warm ambiance was perfect for an evening out, but for Y/N, the night held a particular thrill. She sat between Chris and Matt, with Nick across from her, and she felt a mischievous grin tugging at her lips. The excitement of testing boundaries and seeing how far she could push them sent some euphoric through her.

Chris was speaking to her, his tone laced with something she couldn't quite decipher, but she chose to focus on the waiter who had just approached their table. He was tall with a charming smile, and Y/N made sure to bat her eyelashes at him as he took their drink orders. The way his eyes lingered on her just a little too long gave her the perfect opportunity to set her plan into motion.

"I’ll have a glass of Merlot, please." She said, her voice dripping with sweetness, her eyes locked on the waiter’s.

Chris stopped talking abruptly, exchanging a look with Matt, their jaws tightening simultaneously. The tension was almost palpable, an electric charge that made the air between them sizzle. Nick, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, stifled a laugh and kept his gaze on the menu, though his eyes sparkled with amusement.

"Merlot for the lady, and for the gentlemen?" The waiter asked, seemingly oblivious to the storm brewing at the table.

"I’ll have a Pepsi." Chris said curtly, his eyes never leaving Y/N's side profile, a warning simmering just beneath the surface.

"And a root beer." Matt added, his tone equally clipped, his posture rigid.

Nick ordered a Dr. Pepper, and as the waiter left, Y/N felt Chris’s hand press on her thigh under the table, his grip firm and unyielding. She ignored it and her own need to put her hand above his, turning to Nick with a bright smile, the picture of innocence.

"Nick, what do you recommend here?" She asked, her voice light and playful, her fingers lightly tracing the rim of her still empty glass, her red tinted nails glowing below the dimly lights.

Nick smirked, knowing exactly what she was doing, shaking his head slightly.

"The steak with pasta is pretty good." He replied, glancing at his brothers who were fuming silently, their expressions dark and brooding.

Throughout dinner, Y/N continued her little game. She giggled at the waiter’s jokes, asked for extra attention when ordering, and seemed oblivious to Chris and Matt’s increasingly dark expressions. Every time Chris or Matt tried to engage her in conversation, she would give a noncommittal answer, turning her attention back to Nick or the waiter. The thrill of rebellion coursed through her veins, making her heart race with excitement.

"Babe, do you want to share a dessert?" Chris asked, his voice strained with suppressed frustration, his patience wearing thin.

She didn’t even look at him, her gaze fixed on Nick, smiling widely to him.

"Nick, do you think the cheesecake here is good?" She asked, her voice light and teasing, her fingers holding the menu lightly.

Nick’s eyes sparkled with amusement, but he kept his answer short, not daring to look at his brothers again.

"Yeah, it’s not bad." He muttered, pressing his lips into a thin line, lowering his gaze to his phone to hide his grin.

Chris’s hand tightened on her thigh, his fingers digging in almost painfully, his short nails bruising her soft skin. Y/N bit her red bottom lip to keep from gasping, but she refused to give in. She could feel Matt’s gaze burning into her from the other side, his posture tense and coiled like a spring ready to snap.

When the waiter returned with the dessert menu, Y/N leaned in slightly, resting her elbows on the wooden table, her smile flirtatious and inviting.

"What do you recommend?" She asked, her voice soft and seductive, her pearly teeth caging her bottom lip in a light grip.

The waiter, clearly enjoying the attention, suggested a few options, and Y/N nodded, pretending to deliberate. She could feel the tension radiating from Chris and Matt, and it only fueled her brattiness, the need to push them further, simmering just beneath the surface.

"I think I’ll go with the chocolate lava cake. Please." She finally said, handing the menu back with a dazzling smile, winking at the waiter as he walked away.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Chris’s grip on her thigh moved higher, dangerously close to her clothed pussy, pushing the hem of her mini skirt up slightly. He leaned in, his breath hot against her ear.

"You’re going to regret this, Y/N." He whispered, his voice a low, menacing growl that sent shivers down her spine.

Matt’s hand joined Chris’s, sliding up her other thigh, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her inner area.

"You’re playing a dangerous game here, sweetheart." He murmured, his tone deceptively calm, his lips brushing against her hair.

Y/N shivered at their touch, her resolve wavering slightly, but she managed to maintain her composure. The thrill of their possessiveness, their dominance, was intoxicating, but she couldn’t back down now. She turned to Nick, ignoring the hands on her thighs and their figures to close to her own.

"So, Nick, how was your day?" She asked, her voice light and casual, as if she wasn’t sitting on the edge of a storm.

Nick, barely holding back his laughter, played along.

"Pretty good. Edited some videos and posted a TikTok. The usual." He replied, shrugging, his eyes flicking to his brothers’ tense faces.

Chris and Matt were silent, their hands still, but the promise of what was to come hung heavy in the air. Y/N knew she had pushed them to their limit, and a thrill of anticipation ran through her.

The rest of the meal passed in a tense silence, the atmosphere thick with unspoken words and barely restrained anger. Y/N continued to flirt with the waiter, though less overtly, and Chris and Matt barely spoke, their anger simmering just below the surface. Nick continued to observe, his amusement growing as the night went on, the situation becoming more and more absurd to him.

When the check came, Chris snatched it up, taking his black card out of his Prada wallet, glaring at Y/N as he paid for it all.

"Let’s go." He said tersely, standing and offering her his hand, his eyes hard with unspoken promises.

Y/N took it, her pulse quickening at the dark look in his eyes. Matt followed closely behind, his hand on the small of her back, guiding her out of the restaurant with a firm touch. Nick brought up the rear, shaking his head with a grin, the whole situation a source of endless entertainment for him.

The ride home was silent, the tension palpable. Y/N could feel Chris and Matt’s anger, their possessiveness, and it sent a shiver down her spine. She knew she was in for it, and the anticipation was almost too much to bear. Every minute in the car felt like an eternity, the silence pressing down on her, the weight of their anger and desire almost tangible, causing her to clench her thighs together repeatedly, endlessly searching for some friction.

As soon as they walked through the front door, Chris turned to her, his eyes blazing with a mix of anger and something darker, something that made her pulse race.

"Bedroom. Now." He ordered, his voice brooking no argument, his gaze intense and unwavering.

Y/N swallowed hard, her heart racing as she made her way downstairs to Chris’s room. Chris and Matt followed, their footsteps heavy with purpose, each step sending a thrill of anticipation through her.

In the bedroom, Chris closed the door behind them with a soft click, his eyes never leaving Y/N, who was now standing in the middle of the room, her hands clasped in front of her body which maintained an upright position, waiting for some command. The intensity of his gaze made her knees weak, the anticipation almost unbearable. Matt crossed his arms, leaning against the wall, his gaze equally intense, his posture a perfect picture of controlled tension.

"You think you can act like a brat and get away with it?" Chris demanded, stepping closer to her, his presence overwhelming, his voice low and dangerous.

Y/N bit her lip, her defiance faltering under his scrutiny.

"I… I was just having fun." She said, her voice wavering, the words sounding weak even to her own ears.

"Fun?" Matt echoed, pushing off the wall and walking towards her as if she was his next prey - in a way, she was -, circling her body with painfully slow steps before stopping next to Chris, his eyes dark with a mix of anger and desire. "You think flirting with another man in front of us is fun?"

Y/N’s breath hitched as she shook her head, her pulse racing, feeling nothing below their gazes.

"I didn’t mean to upset you." She said, her voice small, the thrill of their anger sending shivers down her spine.

Chris’s hand shot out, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look up at him, her mouth parting slightly, a shaking breath scaping from it.

"You’re ours, Y/N. Ours to touch, ours to please. And you will learn your place." He said, his voice a low growl, his eyes burning with intensity.

Matt’s hand followed Chris’s, trailing down her arm, the touch of his fingertips against her skin sending sparks of electricity through her skin.

"We’ll make sure you never forget it, dove." He murmured, his voice low and dangerous, his gaze never leaving hers.

Y/N’s knees went weak at their words, the sheer dominance in their tones sending a rush of heat through her. She knew she was in for a long, intense night, and despite her earlier defiance, she couldn’t wait. The promise of their touch, their dominance, was almost too much to bear, and she felt herself melting under their gaze, the anticipation making her pulse race.

Chris’s grip on her chin tightened in a very painful way, his eyes boring into hers.

"Get on the bed." He ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument before letting go of her roughly.

Y/N nodded, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps as she moved to the bed, her heart racing with anticipation, her legs trembling slightly with a mixture of fear and excitement. She knew she had pushed them to their limits, and the thrill of what was to come sent a shiver down her spine.

She settled on the bed, the cool grey sheets a stark contrast to the heat building inside her. Chris and Matt moved with purpose, their eyes dark and filled with intent. There was an air of controlled fury about them, a palpable tension that made her pulse quicken.

Chris approached first, as usual, his hands sliding up her thighs, pushing her skirt up to her waist, exposing her completely. The cool air of the room sent a chill through her, heightening her awareness of every touch, every sensation.

"You’re going to regret being such a little brat tonight." Chris said, his voice low and menacing, his fingers trailing lightly over her exposed skin. Each touch felt like fire against her skin, making her squirm with a mixture of fear and anticipation. His eyes bore into hers, a dark promise of what was to come.

Matt stood beside him, his eyes fixed on Y/N, his expression a mixture of anger and desire.

"We’re going to remind you who you belong to." He added, his voice equally hoarse.

Chris reached into the bedside drawer and pulled out a bright pink vibrator, the sight of it making Y/N’s breath hitch in anticipation, her eyes going from the toy to Chris and back again. His thumb worked on it, and soon, the low hum of the device filled the room, the sound sending a shiver down her spine. He turned it on completely, the vibrations causing a ripple of sensation through her body.

"You’ve been such a bad girl." Chris said, his voice almost a purr, as he lowered her favorite toy, pressing it against her tummy and lowering it slowly until it reaches her clothed pussy, pressing abruptly against her clit, the sudden stimulation making her gasp loudly. "Do you think you deserve to come after the way you behaved?"

Y/N shook her head, her breath coming in short gasps, the intense pleasure already building inside her."

"No, Ch-Chris." She whispered, her voice trembling with need. The pleasure was almost too much to bear, the vibrations sending shockwaves of sensation through her body, making her hips buck involuntarily against the relentless pressure on her clit.

"Good." Chris said, increasing the pressure slightly, making her moan. "You’ll have to earn it." His voice was filled with a dark amusement, his eyes watching her every reaction with a predatory intensity.

Matt moved to the other side of the bed, his hand meeting her soft skin, trailing down her body, his touch sending sparks of electricity through her skin.

"We’re going to take our time with you, sweetheart." He murmured, his voice low and dangerous. "You’re not going to come until we say so, yeah? Gonna be the most obedient girl in the world f'us."

The combined sensations of the vibrator and their hands exploring her body drove Y/N wild with need, her hips bucking involuntarily and repeatedly against the relentless pressure on her.

Chris free hand flew to her lace panties, his index finger hooking on one side, pulling it down as he pulled the vibrator away from her clit for just a few seconds. He pushed her panties completely down her legs with Matt's help, finally removing it before pressing the toy back into Y/N's pussy, the sound of the vibrations against her completely wet area now echoing through the room.

A dirty grin spread across Matt's face as he watched Y/N's spine arch upwards at the new sensation that washed over her in waves, his eyes fixed on her every reaction. Chris, also watching her, moved the vibrator slowly downwards, pressing the head of the toy against her still empty and desperate hole, pushing it hard enough for a small part of its head to enter her.

A loud scream escaped her mouth by surprise, her eyes squeezing shut and her legs shaking as they tried to close instinctively, but being forced against the mattress roughly by Matt's hands. The sensation of the vibrations now inside her drove her completely insane, making her dangerously close to her orgasm.

But, as before, every time she got close, Chris would pull the vibrator away, leaving her teetering on the edge, her frustration building with each denial. The denial was exquisite torture, the pleasure building to a fever pitch only to be pulled away, leaving her desperate and trembling with need.

"You look so desperate, honey." Chris said, his voice laced with amusement as he watched her writhe on the bed. "Do you want to come, dove?" His words sent a thrill of humiliation through her, the degradation only adding to her arousal.

"Yes, please... I need it s-so bad." She begged, her voice barely more than a whisper, her hips searching for more from the toy. The words felt like a lifeline, a desperate plea for release from the overwhelming sensation.

"Not yet." Matt interrupted, his voice firm, his fingers digging into her thighs, holding her still. "You don’t deserve it yet." His words were a dark promise, his eyes watching her with a mixture of desire and amusement.

Chris leaned in, his breath hot against her ear.

"You’re going have to be our good little slut tonight." He whispered, his words sending a thrill of humiliation and excitement through her. "You’re going to take everything we give you, and you’re going to love it. And then, we'll think about letting you cum."

Y/N moaned, her body aching with need, the combination of their words and the relentless teasing pushing her to the brink, their words sounding as if she were a mere object and had no say in any of that. She just obeyed. And, contradictorily, she felt powerful, even with all her submission before them.

"Y-yes- Fuck!" She gasped, her voice trembling with anticipation. The anticipation was almost too much to bear, the pleasure building to a fever pitch, her body trembling with the need for release.

Chris and Matt continued their torment, bringing her to the edge over and over again, only to deny her release each time. The hours seemed to stretch on forever, each wave of pleasure building on the last, leaving her a desperate, trembling mess. The denial was exquisite torture, the pleasure building to a fever pitch only to be pulled away, leaving her desperate and trembling with need.

Finally, when she thought she couldn’t take it anymore, they moved in unison, their hands guiding her to her knees, Chris’s hands letting go of the vibrator while Matt's one's took her crop top off, smirking after noticing she wasn't using any bra.

They both removed their own clothes in quick movements before moving around. Matt lay down on the bed, his back against the mattress and his chest exposed to the room. His hands found Y/N's hips again, pulling her to straddle him.

Y/N’s body trembled with anticipation as she settled on top of him, her knees digging the soft surface below them both and on each side of his hips. His strong arms wrapped around her, holding her close, his hot breath hitting her cheeks.

Matt's hands worked on positioning her on his rigid dick, forcing her to sit on it with a prolonged moan, the girl feeling the full size of that huge cock inside her. And it was so fucking good. An absurdly wonderful feeling that she couldn't ever get tired of having.

Her attention was caught again when she felt Chris right behind her.

"Relax, dove." He whispered, his voice a low, soothing rumble that sent shivers down her spine. "We’re going to take care of you." His fingers trailed down her body, caressing her skin, before forcing her down a little. "Lean in. Support yourself on your hands."

She did as he told, placing her hands on the mattress as if she were trapping Matt in a cage made with her arms. That gave Matt mouth free access to her boobs, and the boy didn't hesitate to swallow one of them and caress the other with one hand, a breathless moan scaping her lips with the feeling. He was always obsessed with her tits.

Y/N soon felt Chris hands spreading her ass cheeks apart, heard the wet noise when he put his fingers in his mouth, and then, pornographically, he took them to her own mouth.

"Lick it, babe. Lick it well, yeah? Like the good girl you want to be so fucking much."

She didn't hesitate and licked it in an extremely obscene way even for her, containing a smile after seeing Matt's big eyes mesmerized by the sight.

Chris didn't wait long to take them to the most hidden orifice of her body, penetrating her with his skillful and now wet fingers, moving in and out of her; preparing her for what would come soon.

Y/N moaned loudly, enjoying the sensation of Chris's big and thick fingers inside her with the ones that came from her hip movements, going up and down on Matt's dick, rolling on top of him, panting and moaning with delight.

"You want to be such a good girl for us, don't you?" Chris murmured, his voice laced with amusement.

Y/N nodded, her breath hitching as she felt the pressure increase.

"Yes, please. I want to be your good girl." She whimpered, her voice trembling with need and anticipation. The anticipation was almost too much to bear, her body aching with the need for more.

Chris’s cock finally pressed against her tight entrance, the sensation making her gasp breathlessly. He moved slowly, allowing her body to adjust to the intrusion, the familiar mix of pain and pleasure making her moan louder.

"Ugh- Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Oh my Go-od!" Y/N moaned loudly, her head lolling forward in ecstasy, her hair falling over Matt's chin and chest, dragging over his skin. Y/N's jaw dropped at the new sensation, the thin wall separating them seemed to absorb both of their movements and take them straight to her swollen clit.

"That’s it, take it all." He growled, his voice filled with dark satisfaction as he pushed deeper.

The stretch was intense, the sensation overwhelming as Chris filled her completely. Y/N’s hands gripped the sheets on Matt's hips side, her body trembling with the effort to relax and take him in. Chris’s hands moved to her hips, painfully grabbing a handfull of her soft skin, holding her steady as he thrust deeper, the pain mingling with pleasure, creating a storm of sensation that left her gasping.

"Look at you, all stretched and ready for us." Chris muttered, his head hanging low as his dark blue eyes observed the way his cock was being swallowed completely by her hole, his voice a low, mocking purr. "Such a good little slut."

Y/N moaned shamelessly, because they were both very good at fucking her and because she had those two huge cocks inside her filling her in just the right way and leaving her breathless, her mouth open in an eternal silent scream, her eyes rolling to her head, her body undulating, rolling on both of their dicks, trying to find the right rhythm, until the three of them were at the same rhythm amidst moans, swearing, insults, "fucks" coming from all sides... Everyone moaning in the same tune.

It must have been a very erotic scene, better than any porn film she had ever watched before. Y/N didn't want it to end, she didn't want it to ever stop. She felt so complete with both of them inside her, so sexy, so wanted...

"You love being our little plaything, don’t you?" Matt muttered below her, his voice filled with excitement and possessiveness.

"Oh, she does. She loves being our good little slut, right dove?" Chris laughed breathlessly, his hands grabbing her ass cheeks with full force, his fingers pressing her skin in a way that he knew the area would be bruised by morning, and he loved the idea of it.

Y/N didn't know how they were still able to speak so coherently, she felt that she had lost the gift of speech, she could only repeat moans in the most pornographic way she had ever done and swear words over and over again.

"Answer me, pretty girl. Or we already fucked you dumb, huh?" Matt asked mockingly, his hands going from playing with her boobs to squeezing her thighs and then back again.

"Ye-es, Matt. I love it so-o much." Y/N gasped, her body reacting instantly, begging silently for more.

The sensation of being filled by both Chris and Matt was unlike anything Y/N had ever experienced. Her entire body felt hyper-sensitive, every nerve ending alight with pleasure and pain. The fullness was almost too much, the intense stretch making her feel completely claimed and utterly vulnerable.

"You’re taking us so fucking well." Chris said between groans, his voice a low, soothing rumble. "Such a good girl, yeah? My girl is proving to us that she can be so fucking good."

"Oh... Matt... Chris... oh, fuck... making me feel so good."

The neighbors were definitely listening and the boys were proud that they knew the names of whoever was fucking that wonderful little slut with such energy and power.

Chris leaned his upper body over Y/N's back slightly, bringing his mouth close to her face, his lips pressing against her ear.

"You like being so fucking filled, don’t you?" Chris growled lowly, his curly brown strands loosening against his sweaty forehead. "You love feeling this."

Y/N nodded quickly, her breath hitching with every thrust.

"Yes, I fucking love it." She gasped, her voice trembling with need and pleasure. The sensation of being filled, the intense pleasure, the degradation, all combined to create a storm of sensation that left her trembling and gasping for more.

She moved her right hand away from the mattress and searched for Matt's right one. She took two of his fingers, bringing them into her mouth, sucking them as if there was no tomorrow, her warm tongue traveling through their length, making more noise than necessary.

"Fucking hell, babe. Would you look at that." Matt moaned, watching her as if she was the only girl in the world.

Y/N smirked after taking his fingers out of her mouth, a loose strand of saliva connected her plump lips to him before moving them lower, pressing them directly on her clitoris, between their bodies. A new glow of excitement came over Matt's face and he began to touch her, rubbing and squeezing her swollen bud.

The new stimulation made the girl see stars, her eyes rolling to her skull.

She could feel Chris deep, strong thrusts in her ass, the familiar burn mixing with a pleasure that made her toes curl.

At the same time, Matt's cock drove into her pussy with a relentless rhythm that left her gasping for air.

The way their bodies moved against her, Chris hands gripping her hips to keep her steady, Matt's one's exploring her most sensitive areas, made her feel like she was on the edge of losing herself entirely.

Her senses were overwhelmed, her mind a blur of sensation. Every thrust sent waves of pleasure radiating through her, the intensity building with each movement.

The wet, rhythmic slapping of skin against skin was the most beautiful sound she'd ever heard, one that left her teetering on the edge of madness. Her body ached with the need to orgasm, the buildup of sensation creating a tension so intense it was almost painful, which made her start moaning the kind of moan that she only created when she was close.

And the boys knew that.

"Look at you, so desperate to cum." Matt growled. "You love being used by us, don’t you?"

"Please... fuck, fuck, fuck." Y/N gasped, her voice trembling with need and pleasure. "Please, I need to cum. Please let me cum. Please! S-so fucking- Ugh."

Chris's right hand moved to her stomach, pressing it down hard as he began to thrust faster, the combined sensation of their movements driving her wild.

"Yeah, baby? You want to cum? Then you're gonna cum for us, and you’re going to thank us for it." He growled, his voice a low, commanding rumble.

The pleasure built to a fever pitch, her body trembling with the intensity of it. And with one last loud and prolonged moan, Y/N came like never before, her body convulsing with pleasure, the orgasm crashing over her in wave after wave, each one more intense than the last.

Her total pornographic moans filled the room, the sensation of being filled by both of them driving her to her peak. Chris and Matt continued their thrusts, riding out her orgasm, prolonging the pleasure, their dominance absolute.

"Tha-ank you."

© vanteguccir

[deerspherestudios]

First of all, hello

What is Atom's love language?

I like the fingers referring to the characters' love language, It's very interesting.

(I apologize if something is not understood, English is not my native language)

Greetings from Mexico 🇲🇽, take care of yourself, eat and drink water in a healthy way please ^^

//RUBS HANDS THANK YOU FOR INDULGING ME HERE IT IS 💜

This is about the most ✨self-indulgent✨ I can get with one of my characters because Atom is just about the BIGGEST simp there is among the cast. Here you go:

•┈••♡❤ Atom's Love Language(s) ❤♡••┈•

When you're on the receiving end; Mixed 🫴🎁💖

The thing with Atom is that it is entirely committed to returning the favor you did for them so long ago, like they said, "their kind answer action in spades."

And if that means providing every single whim your human heart desired, this could translate to offering both gifts and acts of service.

It is devoting it's entire being to that task (literally!) while you're staying on that ship.

I wish I could wax poetry here but it wants to be your vacuum cleaner, your Ford Cortina, your coffee pot, your leccy meter, your portable heater, your setting lotion. //lyr

You name it, Atom will become it!!

Nothing makes it happier than to pamper you like they strongly believe you should be for being their silver lining in darkness, their luna nova.

If Atom had the vocabulary to gush about you I would add words of affirmation here too. Alas, they only have themselves to give and hope you understand just how devoted they were to you for the rest of their life without saying it outright.

They just really really really love you, okay?

When it's on the receiving end; Physical Touch ���💕

Boy, where do I start! Touchstarved lads you're in for a treat.

It can't can't can't get the feeling of your gloves enclosing it so gently all those months ago out of its mindddd.

They wish to replicate that feeling by touching you anytime they can. Absolutely fascinated with your hands, in complete awe these were the ones that brought it to safety. They are nuzzling against your palms as we speak!

It's fully aware most humans get the ick when it comes to touching worms so while they wish they could touch you directly, most of the time it'll stay inside the suit.

It can sense touch from any part of the suit, so their helmet, gloves, boots, soles even, anywhere really.

They go bonkers for a headpat, go insane for a little peck on the glass of their helm. Hug them and they might implode.

If you're touch-averse, it'll try to respect it but they're gonna be vibrating from restrained effort the entire time sorry.

To the point if they're desperate, they'll just end up with tunnel vision on your presence at all times since they can feel through the ship, hyperfixating on the weight of your boots against the metal grating if they have to, literally worshipping you at your feet.

Overall their favorite activity is cuddling for sure and if you reciprocate, you'll find that they are very compact and huggable, 10/10.

In my deranged moments I've always wondered what it's like to hug the Michelin man and I think hugging Atom will feel similar.

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

[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.

[magnagaruzenmon]

Masked Rider

Mwahahaha I got what I wanted a Kamen Rider Fic with Chaewon as the lead. Thanks @star-vader-dio, I’m very appreciative and hope you enjoy my spicy additions

I had always loved the tokusatsu genre ever since I was a kid, even though I was way outside the target demographic. So when an audition notice popped up for a new series looking for “foreign talent,” I immediately jumped at the opportunity.

The first round was simple—a voice audition. After submitting mine, I was thrilled (and a little nervous) to hear that the director himself would be flying out to California for the second round. I knew I had to make a good impression, so I dressed sharp: a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of neatly pressed slacks.

When it was finally my turn, the director sat me down and started walking me through the role. It was an antagonist—not exactly a villain in the traditional sense—someone who was the same species as the main villain but followed a different path. The character would eventually become a Kamen Rider himself and even occasionally help the hero.

“Oh, so kinda like Abarekiller?” I said without thinking.

The director and the translator both froze and stared at me in shock.

“You know Abaranger?” the director asked in broken English, his eyes wide.

I nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! And Kamen Rider, Ultraman—I love toku.”

The director’s expression lit up. He turned to the translator and rattled off a rapid, excited flurry of Japanese. The translator’s eyes widened in response before turning back to me.

“Can you spend a year in Japan?” they asked.

I nodded, a little wary but mostly exhilarated.

Over the next few weeks, everything changed. Originally, I had auditioned to simply voice a kaiju called Tsubarayamon, a fairly straightforward monster role. But after meeting me, the director was inspired to completely rewrite the character.

Instead of a minor monster, I was now going to play Hayato—a complex pseudo-antagonist who would start off as a mentor and helper to the hero in the first act, get captured and forcibly merged with the villains in the second, and finally emerge as a full-fledged Rider, an “extra hero,” by the climax of the series.

It was wild. And overwhelming. And exactly the kind of opportunity you don’t say no to.

So, I moved to Japan.

At first, the process dragged. Endless paperwork, background checks, visa applications. Everything moved at a snail’s pace—until, suddenly, it didn’t. One day, I got an urgent call that everything was approved and I needed to fly out immediately. Within a week, I was settled into a tiny apartment near Toei headquarters, armed with a short but very clear list of rules: be polite, work hard, stay out of trouble.

Soon after, I met Masuki Takata, the lead actress for the show. She was an older lady like mid 30s and carrying the heavy weight of being the first-ever female lead Rider in the franchise’s long history. From the start, she clung to me like a baby duck to its mother despite her being old enough to be a mom.

She knew the action beats and lines, but she didn’t really know Kamen Rider yet—the heart of it, the spirit behind it. Luckily, I did. Thanks to years of obsessively watching, analyzing, and loving the genre, I was able to help her connect with the role on a deeper level.

By the time filming began, Masuki had transformed into a natural. Watching her suited up, striking poses and delivering speeches with real conviction, made me feel a weird sort of pride.

As for me, I kept my head down. When I wasn’t filming, I wandered around Japan with my Nikon Zf, capturing snapshots of shrines, neon-lit streets, and hidden countryside temples. It was the adventure of a lifetime—and it had only just begun. The first day on set was chaos. Organized chaos, sure—but chaos nonetheless.

Crew members buzzed around adjusting lights and props, while costumers rushed around tightening belts, fixing capes, and double-checking every last piece of gear. It smelled like fresh paint, hairspray, and nervous energy. I was already half-suited up, waiting for my first blocking rehearsal, when I overheard Masuki chattering excitedly with one of the assistant directors.

When she spotted me lurking by the craft services table, she practically bounced over, practically vibrating with excitement.

“Guess what, guess what, guess what!” she sang. “We got two huge surprise castings for the villains!”

I raised an eyebrow. “Bigger than me?” I joked.

She rolled her eyes. “Way bigger. We’re talking Chaewon from Le Sserafim and Yujin from IVE!”

I blinked. “Wait—the Chaewon? Yujin?”

Masuki nodded so hard I thought she might give herself whiplash. “Yeah! I know them! Well, I know of them, but also a little personally. Kazuha and Rei were my students when they studied korean, and when I visited them in Korea, I met the whole crew a few times! They’re super sweet, you’re gonna love them!”

I gave her a skeptical look. I’d been around enough actors and celebrities to know that “sweet” didn’t always mean genuine. Most of them could turn on the charm like flipping a switch, but it didn’t mean they actually liked you. And idols? Idol training basically was acting school half the time.

“I’m sure they’re nice,” I said diplomatically, reaching for a coffee. “When the cameras are rolling, anyway.”

Masuki caught the doubt in my voice and narrowed her eyes mischievously. “You don’t believe me.”

“I just… don’t buy the whole ‘everyone’s best friends’ thing,” I shrugged. “It’s showbiz.”

Her grin turned downright evil. “Fine. I’ll prove it.”

Before I could protest, she grabbed my arm and dragged me across the set, weaving through lighting rigs and racks of costumes until we reached a cluster of people gathered near the villain set. Standing in the middle, dressed in sleek, villainous leather outfits that looked like something out of a sci-fi fashion show, were Chaewon and Yujin themselves.

Even out of the spotlight, they looked perfect—like they had been airbrushed into existence.

Masuki cleared her throat dramatically. “Chaewon-chan! Yujin-chan! I want you to meet my friend!”

Yujin beamed, flashing a professional idol smile. Chaewon, however, tilted her head slightly, her gaze sharp and assessing as she looked me up and down like she was sizing up competition.

I bowed politely out of reflex. “Nice to meet you,” I said.

Chaewon didn’t even bow back. Instead, she gave a small, almost imperceptible nod and said in clipped Japanese, “Hajimemashite.”

The tone was polite. The vibe was not.

It was like an invisible wall slammed down between us.

Masuki, bless her, was oblivious as she continued gushing about how great we’d all work together. Meanwhile, I locked eyes with Chaewon, and in that split second, we both seemed to reach a silent agreement:

We didn’t like each other.

At all.

It was going to be a very long shoot. Despite the rocky introduction, I was determined to stay professional. This wasn’t my first rodeo dealing with difficult coworkers—or, in this case, coworkers who thought I was the difficult one.

Still, I wasn’t looking forward to the first rehearsal.

The scene was simple enough: Hayato, my character, was supposed to clash with Chaewon’s villain character, who was some kind of corrupted warrior queen. We had to go toe-to-toe in a choreographed fight scene, with plenty of banter and smoldering tension.

Easy on paper. Awkward as hell in reality.

The stunt coordinator walked us through the sequence slowly. Block, parry, spin, fake punch. Chaewon moved like she’d been training for this her whole life—sharp, clean, focused. I had to admit, grudgingly, that she was good.

When it was time to run the scene for real, the cameras started rolling, and something bizarre happened.

It clicked. Instantly.

We fell into rhythm like we’d been sparring for years. Every fake hit landed perfectly; every dodge was timed to a fraction of a second. Our banter—her icy taunts, my gruff retorts—snapped with electric tension that even the director started losing his mind over.

“Sugoi!” he shouted from behind the monitor. “That’s it! That’s the energy I want!”

Masuki stood off to the side, grinning like she’d just set up the best prank in the world.

We finished the scene with a dramatic final clash, breathing hard, both of us glaring daggers at each other in character. The moment the director yelled, “Cut!”, the spell broke.

I stepped back, brushing imaginary dust off my sleeve. Chaewon immediately turned her back to me without a word.

“Pleasure as always,” I muttered under my breath.

I could’ve sworn I saw her shoulders stiffen.

For the next hour, we worked through more takes, and it was the same every time: On-camera, we were magnetic. The chemistry was undeniable. Sparks flew—sometimes literally, thanks to the pyrotechnics. Off-camera, we didn’t say a single word to each other unless absolutely necessary.

When we finally broke for lunch, Masuki bounded over, nearly vibrating with excitement.

“You guys are so amazing together!” she squealed, practically shaking my arm. “Like, seriously! You’re like rivals in an anime!”

“Yeah,” I said dryly. “If by rivals you mean ‘can’t stand the sight of each other.’”

Masuki just laughed and patted my shoulder like I was a particularly stubborn golden retriever.

“You’ll warm up to each other,” she said cheerfully. “Or you’ll kill each other. Either way, good television!”

I sighed, staring across the lot where Chaewon sat with Yujin, laughing over something on her phone without even glancing in my direction.

It was going to be a very long year. Lunch that day was supposed to be a quick break, but somehow Masuki roped me into joining her and Yujin at the cafeteria attached to the studio.

“Chaewon’s busy,” Masuki chirped as we waited in line. “She’s meeting up with Sakura and Kazuha at that trendy cafe across town.”

I shrugged, grabbing a tray. “Good for her,” I said, not bothering to hide the lack of enthusiasm.

Masuki giggled but didn’t press the issue. Instead, she introduced me properly to Yujin, who was already laughing at something one of the crew members had said.

Up close, Yujin was…different from what I expected. A lot of idols I’d met before had this slightly distant, polished air about them, but Yujin felt normal in the best way—genuine, quick to smile, and totally unbothered by the chaos around her.

“Finally, we meet properly!” she said in near-fluent English as we sat down with our food. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Masuki-chan.”

I raised an eyebrow at Masuki, who just grinned innocently.

“All lies, I hope,” I said, making Yujin laugh so hard she almost spilled her soup.

Lunch turned out to be way more fun than I’d expected. Yujin was sharp, funny, and full of energy without being overbearing. She was easy to talk to—the kind of person you could lose track of time chatting with. We swapped stories about working on set, favorite shows growing up (turns out she loved Power Rangers as a kid, which led to a long debate about which season was the best), and awkward fan encounters.

Masuki mostly listened, laughing along, occasionally jumping in with her own stories about the times she’d visited Korea.

It wasn’t long before the three of us were swapping bites of each other’s food like we’d been friends for years. Yujin even taught me a few silly Korean phrases—most of which I later learned were mildly insulting but all in good fun.

At one point, Masuki leaned back in her chair, hands behind her head, smiling like a proud matchmaker.

“I knew you two would get along,” she said smugly.

“Don’t get cocky,” I shot back, grinning. “One good lunch doesn’t mean you’re a genius.”

Yujin snorted into her tea. “I don’t know. She might be. She’s good at reading people.”

We were laughing again when I glanced out the window and caught sight of Chaewon returning from her lunch, sunglasses on, looking effortlessly cool and entirely uninterested in anything happening around her.

For a moment, our eyes met through the glass.

She didn’t wave. Neither did I.

Yujin followed my gaze and smirked knowingly.

“Don’t worry,” she said in a mock-whisper, leaning in conspiratorially. “She’s actually really nice… once you get past the ‘terrifying ice queen’ phase.”

I laughed under my breath, shaking my head.

Somehow, I doubted that phase was going to end anytime soon.

After lunch, we were back on set shooting the second half of the fight sequence. The afternoon sun filtered through the high windows of the studio, giving everything a hazy, surreal glow.

In between takes, while the crew reset the pyrotechnics, I wandered off toward the edge of the lot, stretching out my arms to keep loose. I wasn’t expecting anyone to be around, but there, leaning casually against a railing with her phone in hand, was Sakura.

I recognized her immediately—how could I not? Even if you weren’t a fan, Sakura had that kind of presence that stuck with you. She was one of those people who had been through it in the idol world and still managed to come out stronger on the other side.

She looked up as I approached, offering a polite nod.

“Hey,” I said, a little awkward. “You’re…Sakura, right?”

She smiled warmly. “Yeah. You’re Theo?”

“Yeah,” I said, running a hand through my hair. “It’s an honor, honestly. I’ve admired you since the IZONE* days. It’s really cool seeing you here.”

Her smile grew a little softer, a little more real. “Thank you. That…really means a lot.”

There was something surprisingly easy about talking to her. Maybe it was because we were about the same age, or maybe because, beneath all the fame and idol polish, Sakura felt grounded in a way that reminded me of friends back home.

We talked for a few minutes—nothing heavy, just light conversation about how wild filming schedules could get, and how different tokusatsu sets were compared to music video shoots. She laughed when I joked about still not understanding half the production lingo the staff threw around in Japanese.

“You’re doing great,” she said, tapping her phone against her palm. “You fit in better than you think.”

And when she smiled at me—really smiled—it was the kind of genuine thing you didn’t see a lot in this industry. I felt a surprising rush of gratitude.

“Thanks, Kura,” I said before I could think about it, using the nickname Masuki had thrown around earlier.

Her eyes widened slightly in surprise, but she didn’t correct me. Instead, she just gave a small, almost shy laugh.

And that was when I heard the footsteps.

Chaewon stormed across the lot, half still in costume, her leather boots thudding against the concrete. Her hair was slightly mussed from the action scene, a few strands falling loose across her forehead, and she looked— Well. She looked really good. Unfairly good. Annoyingly good.

“Why are you talking to Kura?” Chaewon blurted, stopping a few feet away, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

Her tone wasn’t playful. It was defensive. Almost accusing.

I blinked, caught completely off guard by the fire in her eyes.

“It’s called ‘being friendly,’ Chaewon,” I said, sharper than I intended.

She narrowed her eyes at me, mouth opening like she was about to say something else, but I barely registered it because— God help me— She looked so freaking hot when she was mad.

It was infuriating. And deeply, deeply distracting.

For a moment, all I could do was stand there like an idiot, my brain torn between wanting to argue and wanting to— Well. Definitely not something I should be thinking about on a professional set.

Sakura, bless her, stepped in before things could get weirder.

“I was just checking up on yo Chae,” she said smoothly, her voice light. “And Theo was being kind enough to keep me company.”

Chaewon’s jaw flexed slightly, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she shot me one last look—a mixture of suspicion and something I couldn’t quite place—before muttering, “We’re up again,” and stomping back toward the set.

I exhaled a long, slow breath, dragging my hands through my hair.

Sakura chuckled quietly beside me. “She’s…a little protective sometimes.”

“You don’t say,” I muttered, feeling my pulse still racing for reasons I really didn’t want to unpack right now.

I had a feeling working with Chaewon was going to be the death of me. That night, I ended up at a bar with Masuki and Yujin, tucked away in a cozy corner booth while the noise of the city buzzed outside.

I wasn’t drinking—someone had to be the responsible one—and besides, I liked keeping a clear head, especially when it came to making sure my friends got home safe. Masuki nursed some fruity cocktail decorated with a tiny umbrella, while Yujin, predictably, was trying to convince the bartender to make her something “dangerously sweet and slightly illegal.”

We were laughing over some dumb inside joke when, on the walk back to our apartments, Yujin suddenly piped up.

“Hey, Theo,” she said, nudging me with her elbow. “I saw you talking to Chae and Kura today. Does that mean you and Chaewon are friends now?”

I let out a short, humorless laugh, shoving my hands deeper into my pockets. “Not even close,” I said.

Yujin grinned mischievously.

“So what’s the deal, then?” she asked.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “My body is in love with her,” I admitted. “But my brain can’t stand her.”

Yujin burst out laughing so hard she nearly stumbled off the curb. Masuki just shook her head, used to this kind of chaos by now.

“God,” Yujin said, wiping tears from the corner of her eyes, “that’s perfect because…” She trailed off, smirking like she was sitting on the world’s juiciest secret.

“Because what?” I asked, suspicious.

Yujin bit her lip dramatically, then leaned closer.

“Chaewon feels the same way,” she said in a singsong voice.

I blinked. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope,” Yujin said, practically bouncing on her heels. “She was complaining about you after lunch. Said you’re infuriating…and also weirdly hot, and she hates that you know how to flip her over during fight choreography without even trying.”

I groaned, tipping my head back to look at the sky like it might offer me divine intervention.

“And you know what I think?” Yujin added, her voice turning mock-casual.

I gave her a look. “I’m almost afraid to ask.”

She smirked wickedly.

“You two should just fuck. Seriously. That much tension? It’s not good for either of you.”

I barked out a laugh, shaking my head.

“Fat chance,” I said. “I value my sanity, thanks.”

Yujin just laughed harder, looping her arm through mine as we kept walking.

“Sure, Theo,” she said, grinning like she knew something I didn’t. “Keep telling yourself that.” A few days later, I was tucked away in one of the studio’s tiny sound booths, doing voiceover work for the monster side of my character.

It was a weird experience—matching guttural, growling sounds to scenes of someone else in heavy prosthetics and a rubber suit, throwing the Hero around like a rag doll. The booth smelled faintly of coffee and old rubber suits, and the only light came from a monitor looping the footage on repeat.

I’d just finished a particularly savage roar when the intercom crackled to life.

“Good, good,” the director’s voice said in accented but enthusiastic English. “You capture Tsubarayamon’s…inner rage very well.”

“Thanks,” I said, pulling off my headphones and stepping out of the booth for a breather. My throat was already raw, but I figured a few more takes and I’d be done for the day.

The director was standing outside with the translator, looking unusually animated. His hands flew around as he spoke rapidly in Japanese, his whole face lighting up like he’d just had a revelation.

The translator grinned and turned to me.

“The director…he’s thinking,” she said carefully, “about adding…romance.”

I blinked. “Romance?”

She nodded. “Between you…and Chaewon’s character.”

For a second, I thought I must have misheard her.

“Wait. Romance romance?” I asked, half-joking.

The translator laughed but nodded again, confirming my worst—and maybe also best—suspicions.

The director chimed in excitedly, gesturing between two imaginary people, then pressing his fists together.

“Good tension!” he said in English. “Explosive chemistry!”

I felt it then—an involuntary, traitorous hum under my skin, like every nerve ending had flickered awake at once. My heart gave a stupid little jolt I tried very hard to ignore.

Because yeah, my body? Absolutely thrilled at the idea. But my brain? My brain was already stifling a groan so deep it could have been classified as a natural disaster.

Of course they’d noticed the sparks. Of course they’d want to bottle that chaos and serve it to the audience like fine wine.

“Sounds…fun,” I said with a strained smile, trying very hard to sound like a professional and not a man moments away from losing his mind.

The director beamed, completely missing—or maybe deliberately ignoring—the undertone of panic in my voice.

“Good, good!” he said. “We start writing new scenes this week!”

As I trudged back into the booth to record my next line, I couldn’t help but wonder if this show was going to make me a star… Or just drive me completely insane.

Probably both. Later that night, I found myself flopped across the couch in Masuki’s apartment, recounting the day’s disaster to her and Yujin between mouthfuls of convenience store ramen.

“So let me get this straight,” Yujin said, poking at her noodles with her chopsticks. “They saw how much you and Chaewon want to kill each other and thought, ‘Perfect! Makeout sessions, but with emotional trauma!’”

“Basically,” I said, letting my head fall back against the cushion with a groan. “I’m doomed.”

Masuki was sitting cross-legged in the armchair, sipping green tea like a wise old sage. Well, slightly older sage—she wasn’t that much older than us, but she had the vibe of someone who had already survived several lifetimes of drama.

Yujin, meanwhile, was looking way too excited about the whole thing.

“You know what would fix this?” she said, grinning like she was about to drop the most obvious answer in the world.

I glanced at her warily. “I’m afraid to ask.”

Yujin leaned forward, slapping her hands on her knees for emphasis.

“You and Chaewon should just fuck the shit out of each other. Get it all out. Hate-sex style. Super passionate. Maybe break a table or something.”

I almost choked on my noodles.

“Yeah, no,” I said, coughing. “That’s not really my flow.”

Masuki snorted quietly behind her tea, but then set the cup down and shook her head.

“You two don’t need to jump each other’s bones,” she said, more patiently. “You need to talk. Like actual adults. Sit down somewhere quiet. No cameras. No other people stirring things up.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You seriously think talking would fix whatever…this is?”

Masuki shrugged. “Maybe not fix it. But it would help you both figure out why you’re so worked up about each other.”

Yujin leaned back dramatically, throwing her arms over the back of the couch.

“Boooooring,” she said. “But okay. Fine. Talk first, then fuck.”

I threw a pillow at her.

Masuki just laughed, standing up to grab more tea from the kitchen.

“You can’t shortcut everything, Yujin,” she called over her shoulder.

Yujin caught the pillow and grinned at me. “Shortcutting’s more fun, though.”

I sighed, scrubbing my hands over my face.

Maybe Masuki was right. Maybe actually talking to Chaewon—really talking—could save us both from whatever slow-motion trainwreck we were hurtling toward.

But deep down, a small, reckless part of me wondered if Yujin might not be a little right too. The next few days were…strangely peaceful.

With Chaewon and Yujin off performing at their group concerts, the production schedule shifted. Masuki and I ended up filming scenes that focused more on our characters’ early bond—the mentor-mentee dynamic the audience was supposed to fall in love with before all the chaos later.

It was a relief, honestly. No lingering death glares from Chaewon. No snide comments. Just straightforward work, the way it was supposed to be.

Masuki was easy to act with, too. She had this natural way of pulling you into the moment, making the lines feel real even when the dialogue was something ridiculous like, “The spirit of courage burns within you!” or “You must trust the power of our bond!”

Between takes, we hung out by the monitors, sipping canned coffee and laughing about how none of our characters seemed to believe in doing anything the easy way.

“You know,” Masuki said one afternoon, flipping through the script revisions while we waited for lighting to reset, “they’re starting to really set up the Hayato and Rina subplot.”

Rina being Chaewon’s character.

I leaned over her shoulder to look. Sure enough, tucked between fight choreography notes and costume updates, there were new scenes marked in red: — Hayato struggles to deny growing feelings for Rina. — Rina wrestles with conflicting loyalty to villains and attraction to Hayato.

I groaned quietly, sinking into my chair.

Masuki laughed. “You’re acting like it’s a death sentence.”

“Feels like one,” I muttered. “It’s gonna be a miracle if we can say two words to each other without starting an argument, let alone sell a romance.”

She gave me a sly look. “Sometimes fighting is the romance.”

I snorted. “You sound like Yujin now.”

“Good. She’s right,” Masuki said simply, stretching her arms overhead. “Real chemistry is messy. That’s what makes it interesting.”

I didn’t have a good comeback for that. Mostly because I knew, deep down, she was probably right.

Still, I shoved the thought aside and focused on the scene we were about to shoot—a simple training montage where Hayato teaches the Hero how to fight smarter, not harder. It was nice. Easy. No messy emotions to trip over.

But even as I moved through the choreography, somewhere in the back of my mind, I couldn’t stop picturing that stupid, fiery glint Chaewon got in her eyes when she was mad.

And wondering how the hell I was supposed to fake falling for her… When I wasn’t sure it was going to stay fake at all.

The last day before Chaewon and Yujin were due back was packed tight with one of our most important shoots yet: Hayato’s merging sequence.

The setup was dramatic as hell, and everyone on set could feel the tension crackling in the air.

Hinata—Masuki’s character—had just lost a brutal fight against the villains. She was bloodied, exhausted, and half-conscious on the ground. The main villains loomed over her, ready to drag her off to be “reconditioned”—code for mind control, brainwashing, whatever nightmare the writers had cooked up.

Cue me—Hayato—stumbling onto the battlefield, defiant but visibly wrecked from the earlier fight scenes we’d filmed that morning.

We ran through it once, the cameras rolling.

Masuki, ever the pro, made Hinata’s fear palpable—eyes wide, lip trembling, hand reaching out helplessly toward me. She had always played Hinata’s connection to Hayato like he was her anchor, her brother figure. Losing him wasn’t just a tactical blow; it was emotional devastation.

I charged forward, shoving myself between her and the villains.

Right on cue, the Tsubarayamon monster suit actor—this massive guy named Kenji—lurched into the frame, all snarling and thrashing around with massive claws.

This was where it got tricky: the merging sequence.

I gritted my teeth and threw a punch at the monster…only for Kenji to catch my fist midair.

We struggled, choreography rehearsed to look messy and desperate. Then came the “fusion effect” moment. CGI would handle most of it later, but for now, I had to act like something invisible was crawling into my skin—twisting me from the inside out.

I dropped to my knees, convulsing, clutching my chest. The practical effects team hit a hidden trigger that sent smoke curling out of my costume.

Masuki crawled toward me, gasping out Hayato’s name, but she was dragged back by the villains.

Meanwhile, I slowly rose to my feet… But it wasn’t really Hayato standing there anymore.

I lowered my head, my hair falling in my face for effect, and when I looked up, my expression was cold. Unrecognizable.

Without a word, I turned and walked toward the villains, now standing at their side like I’d always belonged there.

Behind me, Masuki’s anguished cries filled the soundstage.

The director yelled, “Cut!” but nobody moved for a second, the scene had landed that hard.

Masuki scrambled up first, shaking off the dust from the fake rubble. “That was insane,” she said, grinning. “You looked terrifying.”

I gave her a half-smile, my heart still pounding in my chest. “Felt like I was gonna pass out halfway through,” I admitted, laughing.

The next few scenes were quicker.

I filmed a short shot of Hayato—well, Tsubaraya now—staring blankly at a city skyline backdrop, flexing his fingers like he was getting used to a new body.

Then we jumped into the next key moment: the big bad of the season, a masked warlord in crimson armor, calling Tsubaraya via a slick communicator prop.

I stood on the villain base set, dim and smoky, answering the call with a sharp nod.

“You have demoralized the enemy,” the warlord’s voice rumbled through the speaker. “Excellent. You are one of us now. Come. Claim your new place.”

A costumer swooped in between takes, handing me a sleek new outfit: darker armor plates, a longer cape, and a belt that would eventually become the Kaiju Driver once I built it in the next episode.

We got a few slow, ominous shots of me slipping into the new gear, glancing into a broken mirror prop at my distorted reflection—Hayato’s face still there, just…buried under layers of corruption.

By the time the director called it a wrap for the day, I was drained. Physically. Emotionally.

But for the first time in a while, it wasn’t because of Chaewon.

Tomorrow, though? She’d be back. And the real battle would start.The day of Chaewon’s return was harder than I expected.

I wasn’t ready for it—the way the air shifted when she stepped back onto set, or the way my body reacted without asking my permission.

It was like I’d missed her. Like something hot and restless had been sitting under my skin this whole time, waiting for her to come back.

But she didn’t look like the Chaewon who used to scowl at me over every minor inconvenience. She looked softer. Gentler. Like the edge had been sanded off just a little during her time away.

And it scared the hell out of me.

So I shoved all of it aside and threw myself into the work. Into Tsubaraya.

We were filming on the Villains’ headquarters set—a towering, cold interior dressed up like the inside of a warship, with a fake skyline of a crumbling city projected outside the windows.

I walked in slow, controlled, the new villain costume feeling like it was molding itself to me more with every step.

At the far end of the room, VonKaizer—played by a veteran actor with the stage presence of a king—stood overlooking the city.

He turned as I approached.

“Ah, Tsubaraya,” he said, his voice deep and commanding. “It’s good to see you comfortable with your new host. How does it feel?”

I let a wicked little smirk tug at my mouth.

“It’s a head rush, boss,” I said, letting my voice drip with arrogance. “This body is so sensitive. So…squishy. And the emotions—” I gave a low chuckle, stepping into the character fully, “—they’re dialed up to fifteen. It’s intoxicating.”

Without thinking, I turned to Rina—Chaewon’s character—and reached out, lifting her chin between my fingers.

It wasn’t in the script.

But it felt natural. Dangerous. Electric.

“How do you handle all of this, Rina?” I purred.

Chaewon’s eyes widened—genuine surprise flashing across her face before she quickly buried it beneath Rina’s cold mask.

“You get used to it, Tsubaraya,” she said, voice stern but a touch unsteady. “But do try to keep your new human impulses under control.”

I felt a ripple—Chaewon bleeding through the character for a second—and it stiffened something inside me, made the boundary between Theo and Tsubaraya blur just a little more.

I straightened, pulling away with a smirk that felt too real.

“I think the first thing I’m gonna do is cause some carnage,” I said, turning back to VonKaizer. “Rattle the humans a bit. Bait out Astra…see what this body and this power can really do.”

VonKaizer smiled approvingly and stepped forward, holding out a mass-produced Driver.

“Go for it,” he said. “But don’t forget your weapon.”

I shook my head once, a little too sharp, and revealed my own Driver—something new, sleek and cruel-looking, dripping with crimson malice.

The prop department had outdone themselves. It practically oozed villain energy.

VonKaizer laughed darkly, and I gave a mock salute before striding out of frame.

Chaewon—no, Rina—followed me off-screen, her steps quick and angry.

As soon as we were out of camera range, she hissed under her breath, still in character but with a dangerous edge of reality, “What the hell was that about?”

I turned slowly, softening my steps like a cat cornering prey.

“What do you mean?” I asked, feigning innocence, my voice soft and unbothered.

Rina’s—Chaewon’s—eyes narrowed into slits.

“You touched me,” she snapped. “You never touch me.” Her face was flushed, her chest rising and falling faster than it should have been.

I stepped closer, letting Tsubaraya’s predatory charm leak through.

“Well,” I said lazily, “things are different now. This body…it’s making me feel things I’ve never felt before. I don’t know what I’m doing. But I can tell you this…”

I tilted my head, smiling in a way that was half-sincere, half-dare.

“I like it. It’s exhilarating. And you, my darling Rina…” I paused, savoring the way she stiffened. “You look ravishing.”

Before she could find a comeback, I blew her a quick, mocking kiss, spun on my heel, and stalked away.

The director’s voice rang out: “Cut!”

The tension snapped instantly, and I exhaled hard, feeling the lines between Theo and Tsubaraya still buzzing uncomfortably close.

The director came striding over, smiling so wide it looked like his face might split in half.

“Theseus-san,” he said in rapid Japanese, “that was incredible! The way you moved—the confidence, the swagger—you had it all. Keep it up!”

I bowed slightly, still catching my breath. “Thank you, sir,” I said.

He clapped my shoulder, beaming. “No—thank you! Fantastic!” he added, tossing the last word in English with a proud grin.

I laughed, finally letting myself relax as the crew began breaking down the set.

But somewhere deep inside, a small uneasy voice whispered:

That wasn’t just Tsubaraya back there. That was me. The cab ride back to the apartment complex was the longest ten minutes of my life.

Chaewon and I sat on opposite sides of the backseat, arms crossed, eyes forward, a wall of hostile silence between us thick enough to suffocate.

I could feel her in every cell of my body.

The slight twitch of her fingers when she was irritated. The way she kept crossing and uncrossing her legs. The faint scent of her shampoo—something sharp and floral—that made my brain swim.

And underneath it all, this weird, chaotic rush of emotions pounding against my ribs like a trapped animal.

Anger. Frustration. Want.

I dug my nails into my palm and focused on the streetlights streaking past the windows, trying to breathe.

When the cab finally pulled into the lot of our apartment complex, I practically threw some yen at the driver and stumbled out into the cool night air, desperate to shake the static clinging to my skin.

But before I could make a break for the elevators, Chaewon’s voice, quiet but razor-sharp, cut through the night:

“Theo. Come up with me.”

I froze.

Turned.

She was standing a few steps away, arms loose at her sides, her face unreadable except for the slight tremble of her lips.

Everything logical inside me screamed no. Screamed walk away. Screamed this is a bad idea.

But my body had other plans.

My legs moved before my brain did, carrying me silently into the elevator beside her. We didn’t speak the entire ride up. Just stood there, side by side, the small space around us crackling with barely restrained energy.

When we reached her floor, she opened her door without a word and walked inside.

I hesitated for a half-second.

Then followed.

The door clicked shut behind me, sealing us into the thick, electric air.

I barely had time to register the neat little apartment—the cozy lighting, the faint scent of tea and flowers—before she turned around and slapped me.

It wasn’t hard enough to really hurt. But it was enough to make my head whip to the side and my blood roar in my ears.

Before I could react—before I could even think—she grabbed me by the front of my shirt, yanked me down, and crashed her mouth against mine.

The kiss was messy. Angry. Hungry.

I staggered back a step from the force of it, my hands finding her waist instinctively. Her nails scraped along my jaw as she kissed me harder, almost like she was trying to devour the months of tension between us all at once.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I thought, this is a terrible idea. But that thought burned away the second she moaned low in her throat and pressed herself flush against me.

Clothes came off in a desperate, clumsy rush—fingers fumbling, mouths barely breaking apart long enough to breathe.

And then we were in her bed, the world narrowing down to heat and hands and teeth and us.

Every kiss, every bite, every thrust was a war we were fighting with our bodies instead of our words.

And for the first time since I met Chaewon, we weren’t battling against each other.

We were battling with each other—for something.

When it was over, we lay tangled in her sheets, the only sound our ragged breathing and the soft hum of the city outside.

I stared at the ceiling, heart hammering, brain whirling.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. This wasn’t me. This wasn’t her.

And yet…

I turned my head to look at her, expecting regret. Shame. Maybe even anger.

Instead, Chaewon just stared back at me—her face flushed, her hair a mess, her eyes dark and unreadable.

Neither of us said a word.

Neither of us knew how.

We sat in her bed for a while as we both tried to find the words to say. To write this off as a one time thing but my body and my heart desired more and in the few glances I took of her I could tell she felt the same way. I thought maybe—maybe—after that first time, the tension would bleed out of us. That we’d be able to act normal again.

But I was wrong.

So, so wrong.

It started with a glance. Then a scoff. Then a muttered insult.

We were still naked, sheets tangled around us, and already we were at each other’s throats again.

“You’re such an asshole,” Chaewon muttered, pulling the sheet around herself like armor.

“And you’re a brat,” I snapped back, raking a hand through my hair.

I meant to get up. I meant to grab my clothes and leave before either of us could say something even worse.

But then she gave me that look—half-glare, half-dare—her eyes dark and challenging under her messy hair.

And suddenly I wasn’t walking away.

I was on her.

Chaewon gasped as I slammed her back into the mattress, the sheet slipping free from her body. My hands pinned her wrists above her head, and she writhed beneath me, her nails raking down my arms.

“You’re impossible,” she spat, even as she arched into me, her body burning hot against mine.

“And you’re infuriating,” I growled, ducking down to capture her mouth in a brutal kiss.

This wasn’t gentle. This wasn’t sweet. This was punishment. This was relief.

We clawed at each other like we couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t erase the months of tension in just one night.

Her legs locked around my hips. I bit down on the soft skin of her shoulder, leaving a mark. She tugged my hair hard enough to make my eyes water.

Every thrust was a fight. Every kiss a surrender.

Chaewon cursed my name like it was a prayer. I growled hers like it was the only word I knew.

And somewhere in the middle of all that fury and fire, something inside me cracked wide open.

Because underneath the anger—underneath the desperate, punishing pace—there was something else.

Need. Want. Something dangerously close to love.

We came together in a tangle of limbs and shouts, both of us trembling from the sheer force of it.

For a moment, the world went silent. Just the sound of our breathing, ragged and raw.

I collapsed beside her, heart slamming against my ribs, staring up at the ceiling like it could give me answers.

Chaewon lay stiff beside me, her chest rising and falling fast, her fists clutching the sheets like she was afraid she’d lose herself completely if she let go.

Neither of us spoke.

We didn’t have to.

Our bodies had already said everything we were too proud—or too scared—to admit. I drifted awake slowly, the morning light creeping through the curtains in thin golden beams.

For a second, I didn’t know where I was. The sheets were soft. The room smelled faintly like flowers and skin. And there was a weight pressed against my side—small, warm, breathing steadily.

Then I felt her move.

Chaewon.

Still half-asleep, she shifted closer, her nose brushing against my bare chest as she nuzzled into me with a sleepy whine.

“Mm…” she mumbled, voice thick and husky from sleep, “…of course you’re warm and cuddly in the morning…”

She said it like it was a complaint, but her arm tightened around my waist anyway, like she had no intention of letting go.

I stayed absolutely still, my heart hammering so hard I was surprised it didn’t wake her up completely.

If I said anything, if I moved wrong, the moment would shatter. She’d remember who we were supposed to be—enemies orbiting the same star—and she’d push me away.

But right now?

She wasn’t Chaewon the fighter. Or Chaewon the brat. Or even Rina the villainess.

She was just Chaewon.

Soft. Warm. Vulnerable.

And god help me, I never wanted to move again.

I let out the smallest breath of a laugh, barely a puff of air against her hair, and muttered under my breath, “You’re not so bad yourself, brat.”

She made a small grumpy sound in the back of her throat but didn’t pull away. Just buried herself even deeper against me, like she was chasing the heat she pretended to hate.

And for the first time since we met, I let myself think—really think—that maybe, just maybe, there was something more here than anger and lust.

Maybe, buried under all the fighting and tension, there was something real growing between us.

And terrifyingly enough… I didn’t want to run from it. Chaewon stirred first after we nodded off again.

I felt her body tense against mine, her hand flexing against my chest like she was waking up into a memory she wasn’t sure was real.

Then, suddenly, she bolted upright with a gasp. I blinked up at her, still groggy, still drunk off the scent of her and the heat of her body.

“Shit,” she muttered, running a hand through her tangled hair. “I have call time in like… thirty minutes.”

She swung her legs off the bed, cursing softly in Korean as she scrambled for her clothes.

I should have stayed in bed. I should have let her go.

But when she stood up—naked, gorgeous, hair wild, cheeks flushed from sleep—my body made the decision for me.

Without even thinking, I slipped out of bed and followed her into the bathroom.

Chaewon caught my reflection in the mirror and froze, a towel half-wrapped around herself.

We stared at each other. Tension snapped back into the air, heavy and electric, like a struck match waiting to catch fire.

I took a step closer. So did she.

The towel dropped to the floor, forgotten.

In the next heartbeat, my hands were on her, pulling her against me, mouths colliding in a kiss that was all teeth and tongue and desperation.

The shower was already running, steam filling the tiny room, fogging up the mirror. I backed her into the stall without a second thought, the hot water crashing over us as she moaned into my mouth.

It was messy. Hungry. Out of control.

She clawed at my shoulders, nails leaving faint red trails. I gripped her hips like if I let go, she’d disappear.

Chaewon pressed her forehead against mine, panting, her breath hot against my skin. “Fuck,” she whispered, voice wrecked and beautiful. “This is so stupid.”

“Yeah,” I rasped, kissing the corner of her mouth, her jaw, the soft hollow beneath her ear. “But it feels so good.”

And it did. God, it did.

The slick heat of the water, the urgent press of her body against mine—it was overwhelming, addictive, like we were trying to memorize each other before the real world crashed back in.

I lifted her easily, bracing her against the wall, and she wrapped her legs around me, biting down on my shoulder to muffle a cry.

We moved together like we had something to prove. Like we were trying to burn out whatever was happening between us before it swallowed us whole.

But it was too late for that. Way, way too late.

We came undone together, shuddering through it, holding onto each other like lifelines.

And when it was over, when our breathing slowed and she finally slid down to stand on trembling legs, she rested her forehead against my chest for just a second longer than necessary.

Then, without a word, she pulled away.

Chaewon toweled off quickly, threw on fresh clothes, and shot me a glance that was equal parts longing and defiance.

“I have to go,” she said, voice tight.

I nodded, even though every part of me screamed for her to stay.

She hesitated in the doorway—just for a second—before disappearing down the hall.

Leaving me alone in the steaming bathroom, heart pounding, wondering what the hell we had just done…

…and what the hell was going to happen next.

After wandering the streets for a while — still riding the strange, electric high from this morning — I remembered I was out of toothpaste. Very glamorous.

I ducked into a corner convenience store, grabbed a couple of tubes, and then let myself drift down the aisles, picking up a few other things I needed without much thought.

Halfway through checking out, I glanced at the time.

Chaewon should be wrapping up filming soon.

The thought came so naturally — so reflexively — it almost startled me. Like my brain had already filed her under important people to think about without even asking for permission.

I stood there at the register for a second, hesitating… then just sighed, gave in, and paid. Grabbing a bag, I headed down the street, found a little food stand I liked, and ordered a second meal. Not for me. For her.

It just made sense. Of course she’d be sick of catering. I was sick of it too.

I hopped on the train toward the studio without overthinking it. At least, that’s what I told myself.

When I got there, Chaewon was standing near the lot entrance, fiddling with her phone.

She looked up as I approached — and the surprise on her face quickly melted into something softer. That warm, brilliant smile that punched me right in the gut every damn time.

“Ah, you shouldn’t have,” she said, grinning as she took the bag from my hand.

I shrugged, trying to play it cool even as my chest warmed at the way she beamed up at me. “Figured you’d be tired of the catering. I thought about you.”

Chaewon’s whole face lit up even more. “Thank you, Oppa,” she said sweetly, slipping into the honorific with such casual affection it made my pulse stutter.

Then she hugged me — quick, tight, instinctive — like it was the most natural thing in the world.

She stayed close after that, unwrapping her sandwich and nibbling on it while we stood together, chatting easily as we waited for Masuki and Yujin to finish shooting a fight scene.

“So,” Chaewon said after a few bites, licking a bit of sauce from her thumb, “what do we do now?”

I shrugged, smiling helplessly. “I like you. A lot. And I’m not sure what we’re supposed to do about that.”

Chaewon laughed — that bright, slightly mischievous laugh that made you feel like you were sharing a secret with her. “Everybody loves me,” she said dramatically, tossing her hair. “Haven’t you seen all my flags?”

I barked out a laugh. “Yeah, well… I have one too, brat.”

She scrunched her nose at me — that devastating, heart-stealing gesture that had probably started a hundred fanwars. “You’re not so much of an asshole after all,” she teased, nudging me lightly with her shoulder.

I grinned. “Are you finally coming around?”

She bit into her sandwich, chewing thoughtfully before saying, “You’re the cold one, you know. When we first met, you glared at me. I thought you hated my guts.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me? When we first met, you looked at me like I was a cockroach.”

Chaewon groaned dramatically, slapping my arm. “Only because you looked at me like you wanted to stab me!”

I laughed, loud and genuine. “Resting angry face. Genetic curse. Sorry, brat.”

Chaewon rolled her eyes with an exaggerated huff. “Oh, you’re so funny,” she said, deadpan.

I just shrugged again, grinning. “I try.”

She paused then, sandwich halfway to her mouth, and looked at me with something a little more serious in her eyes.

“I can see why Yujin and Sakura kept telling me to give you a chance,” she said softly.

The words hit me harder than I expected. I laughed a little awkwardly, trying to deflect the rush of heat I felt. “Helps when you’re super fun too,” I said, nudging her playfully.

Chaewon flushed slightly at the compliment, ducking her head in a way that made her seem almost shy. Without really thinking about it, she leaned closer, our shoulders brushing.

And that’s when I realized — too late — that we were being filmed.

I turned my head just in time to see the director standing behind a handheld camera, grinning like a kid who just found buried treasure.

He smirked at us and called out, “One more take!” in a sing-song voice.

Chaewon gasped and covered her face with her hands, laughing. I just shook my head, chuckling.

Of course.

[traitorleech]

you know what i love about conclave (2024)? the way language is used. i'm not talking about the book because as far as i understand they speak italian unless they recite some latin scriptures or speak english. no, i'm talking about the film. i read somewhere that sergio castellitto translated many of his lines to italian and since ralph fiennes speaks italian as well he humoured him, but i always prefer a in-universe explanation.

i mean, it only makes sense that lawrence and bellini speak english with one another (i actually would have liked to see tremblay speak french since he's from quebec but i digress). it also makes sense that benítez blesses the dinner in spanish (and if i understand correctly it's mexican spanish and not spain spanish). but what i think is more powerful in the film as opposed to the book (since lawrence is italian in the book) is the way tedesco and lawrence talk to each other. because lawrence will make an effort to speak italian to be polite (and i appreciate that because i too will try and talk to someone in their native language if i speak it or in english if i don't because i don't assume folks speak german), so whereas i get the feeling that lawrence is trying to be polite, tedesco occasionally switches to english too, but only to tease lawrence, in my opinion, or emphasise a point. it feels like a powerplay, really. one that tedesco is winning.

on the other hand, there's a scene in the book after lomeli's/lawrence's homily when he bumps into tedesco, the latter, before the mass with the homily took place, having complained that lomeli/lawrence won't read his homily in latin but rather in italian, when tedesco remarks that he disagrees with what lomeli/lawrence said in his homily. and lomeli/lawrence stone cold counters that tedesco might've preferred it (referring to the contents, presumably) if it had been in latin. that was such a devastating blow for tedesco, i was howling. because it's canon that tedesco's latin is dogshit.

[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!)

[noxiatoxia]

Komaeda Nagito, and His Tendency to Use Filler Words

I've talked about this here and there, but I want to make an in-depth post with examples.

So, something that's always bothered me about the Eng release of SDR2 is the fact that Komaeda...does not use filler words as much as he should.

Let me explain.

I'm sure you know words such as "uh" "um" "ah" "er" and suchlike. When you don't know something or are thinking, you tend to say something like, "Um...yeah, so..." or "My, um, appointment is tomorrow."

These words add no "value" to the sentence, and are only placed involuntarily while speaking because you are trying to think as you speak.

Japanese has plenty of these, too. Words like えーと(etto), あの (ano), ううん (uun), ええ (ee), and so forth.

But there's other "filler" words out there. Like our earlier sentence, "Um...yeah, so..." "Um" is not the only filler word. "Yeah, so" is also a filler word, as it adds nothing to the overall sentence. It can be removed.

Really, any word can become a filler word. "You know" and "like" have real applications, but if you, like, start, like, talking like this, it's, you know, kind of repetitive, you know?

I think the vast majority of people on Earth are guilty of speaking like this in their day-to-day lives. It's just easy to do. But when it comes to media, you'll notice characters rarely stutter or repeat words. When they do, even if it's a small amount, it's noticeable because the surrounding context is that nobody else is doing it.

With all this information in mind, let's talk about Komaeda Nagito's dialogue.

実はさ、ボクは入学前に、ネットでみんなの情報を調べてきてるんだよね。

さ(sa), is a normal sentence particle in Japanese. It's used for a myriad of purposes, although many people seem to liken it to the American "Valley Girl" accent when overused, especially with another conversation particle, ね (ne).

It is a misconception that sa is "masculine". It used to be masculine way back, but nowadays it's more or less gender neutral.

This will be the topic of the post. Komaeda tends to use sa and ne in a way that is seen as "filler". These particles can be likened to "you know?" and "like" in the sense that they are real words that serve purposes, but can be repetitive.

In the sentence above, I would say the ne is not being used in a filler-like way. Sa, however, is.

"So, to be honest, before I arrived at this school, I, um, did a little research about everyone on the internet."

In this way, sa, ne, or any other particle when overused (な na is another big one, and I see Souda using it a lot) can be any filler word. Some would argue that the sentence should maybe look more like...

"So, you see, to be honest, before I arrived at this school, I did a little research about everyone on the internet."

And this is equally as correct. It's more in-line with how sa as a particle is normally used, but when translating it as how it's being used here - as a filler word - "um" may sound more appropriate in English. Neither is incorrect however, and there's a myriad of other ways you could go about writing this.

"So, you know, to be honest..."

"So, like, to be honest..."

"...I kind of did a little research..."

"...I, well, did a little research..."

etc.

ううん、いいんだよ。複雑なのはボク自身もそうだからさ。

Here, I wouldn't describe sa as being a filler word...necessarily. It adds emphasis, but it's still completely optional. Thus, I wouldn't translate it as a word imperative to the sentence's meaning.

"No, no, I totally get it. I have pretty mixed feelings about this, too."

最初はね…恐れ多いって断ったんだよ。でも、どうしてもって言われてさ。

Here is an example of him using ne in a filler-like way. You've probably caught on that particles which stand-in as filler are used usually at the beginning of a sentence before a comma or ellipses.

Komaeda actually uses ne in this manner fairly often. One of his default voice lines is "boku wa ne..." - I am unsure how this was recorded in the English dub. Probably just "I..." but personally I'd go with "Well, I..." or "I, uh..."

And unlike earlier, I would say the sa here at the ending is indeed more filler-like (not entirely still, though. Akin to the usage above).

"Um, honestly, at first…I was humbled, but I refused. But, well, they wouldn't stop insisting on it…"

By the way, Komaeda is not putting himself down in this scene. Japanese culture emphasizes being polite in a way Western spaces do not. "I don't deserve it" is a very direct translation, but in English, it makes more sense to read it as "I humbly declined".

And all these examples are just in the first conversation you have with him! You can imagine how many more there are through the whole game.

Now, here's a big question I'm sure you're thinking: "Why was this left out?"

I don't know to be honest, because...they did it with other characters.

Such as Koizumi in the same game:

だってさ、なんだか変なヤツばっかりじゃん。天才だか超高校級だか知らないけどさ…

Although Koizumi suffers from some of the same translation choices made with Komaeda, hers appears to be more consistent.

Finally, we need to talk about Naegi Makoto. He and Komaeda share beyond a voice actor - they talk the same, too. They both use the same self pronoun and you pronoun, use the same script, and also have a habit of using ne and sa in excess...though Naegi maybe does it slightly less.

Also confusing, this sometimes gets translated, like here:

そうそう、こんな危険な学校だしさ、何があるかわからないでしょ？ だから…念の為にさ。

The only reason I can think it only happens sometimes or, in Komaeda's case, not at all, is some translators on the team either didn't feel it was important to include/didn't think about it, while other translators did. Game translation typically has more than one person at the helm. A lack of good management can lead to weird discrepancies like this.

Anyways, that's all I got for now. I hope you find it interesting, because it's one of my absolute favorite character quirks of Komaeda and I am so sad it doesn't get any love in English...

[thebroccolination]

KRISTSINGTO GAVE A COMPREHENSIVE INTERVIEW ON THE EVOLUTION OF THE QL INDUSTRY, THEIR PARTNERSHIP, AND THEIR PROMISE TO FANS

EDITED 19/3/25: @ysphcpb helped me make sense of some of the wonky subtitles. I added two clarifications below using this same text and color to make them easier to find.

A few hours ago, FEED uploaded an interview in which KristSingto almost made me cry. The full interview is subbed in English and available here on YouTube. It's thirty minutes long, and KristSingto cover a broad range of topics that show how invaluable their seasoned perspectives on the industry are.

If you're new to KristSingto or curious what they've been up to since you last checked in on them, this could be either a very good introduction to them or a refresher. :)

Note: As far as I can tell, the subtitles are mostly fine, but judging by some of the phrasing, I think they might have been auto-translated or else completely done by AI. Like, the subs call KristSingto "Christmas" twice, which I think a human would have caught. (Quick: who gets the angel topper and who gets the star?) Also, there are several times when Krist or Singto is referring to himself in the third person (as you do in Thai), so the subtitles say "he" rather than "I" so you have to pay attention to the context of what they're talking about to avoid confusion. Another day, another reason to study Thai.

HIGHLIGHTS:

Singto said he's gotten in trouble for giving short answers, so he said his main concern is Krist's health. He's said the same thing in other interviews, so Krist already knew. <3 I think he means in general, since Krist has been physically sick more often in recent years, but mental health is also quite important to both of them.

EDIT - Singto: Actually, there's not much I need to tell him, but lately, (what I'd like to say) can be condensed into a short word. And I think he's aware of it. "Health", okay? Short but enough, to the point. And I'm sure he's aware of it.

Krist said he's had to take on more responsibility within his family as he's gotten older. He's been very open in the past about his family's early struggles with money following the market crash in the 90s and how he cleared his family's debts through his work after SOTUS. More recently, he lost his grandmother in 2023 just before his solo concerts in Bangkok and now more recently his grandfather just before "The Ex-Morning" begins airing. He's always been extremely devoted to his family.

Meanwhile, Singto is an only child who lost his mother to cancer in university, so he said his priority has become taking care of himself more. Over the past year he's been very forthcoming about his mental health issues in the past and how he addressed them to get to a much healthier and happier place today.

After everything Krist has been through over the past five years especially, hearing him say he's not sad or stressed just healed something in my heart. I'm really so very proud of him. <3

Singto said that because they've both grown up over the past few years, Krist feels more like an equal to him now. They're only a year apart, but I think since they met in school and Krist has always been a little more excitable and trusting, that gap probably felt wider to Singto. He said they're able to communicate better now and that even though their working dynamic was already smooth, even that has improved.

They also talked about changes in the industry from their joint debut in SOTUS in 2016! I've seen Singto speak in the past about how he wanted to see the "BL" or "Y" removed because he thought it was othering, and in this interview he said he's happy that BL isn't considered strange anymore. As the first in the line of fire, KristSingto went through some fairly harrowing things, and he said that he and Krist weren't sure how people would respond to SOTUS.

Krist talked about the international spread of Thai QL and especially the rise of GL! I don't think the subtitles did what he said justice, so I'll toss the ball to resident GL protector @hallowpen in case there's a better way to phrase what he said in English. I think he essentially said that in the era KristSingto released SOTUS in, Thailand was still in a transitional period where queer media was neither accepted or rejected, and he's happy to see it become a normalized part of society.

EDIT - Krist: Moreover, in this era, we now have sapphic shows too, as in girl-girl pairings, something like that. So it's like, it's great, that we no longer have any of these separate lines (@ysphcpb's translation note: in relation to what he said before this, I think he means lines that separate "BL/Y series" from other types of series, in terms of content and target audience). If the work is good and worth watching, we'll love and appreciate it.

They discussed the importance of partnerships, and Krist emphasized communication above all to avoid fighting. Singto said that in the past they didn't fight, but they did overlook issues by not talking more. He said they're making a more concerted effort to pay close attention to each other's moods and to raise concerns as they develop so they can clear things up immediately.

Krist said he's much more at ease with Singto back. He's spoken in-depth multiple times before this about what it was like for him when he was on his own for the two years Singto was gone, and it wasn't great for his mental health. From the moment Singto left (amicably) to pursue his own path, Krist missed him and was actively trying to persuade him to come back. While GMMTV had been placing Krist in heterosexual lakorn series for years after SOTUS ended, his heart never really seemed to be in it, and I think he always wanted to continue and stay in the BL world. He always wanted the stability of a partner he knew and trusted, and with Singto home (so to speak) he said it's easier for him to plan for the future, which is less frightening for him now. (In 2023 before Singto returned, I really hoped Krist would pair up with Gawin based on the loveliness of their friendship and chemistry onstage and in "Be My Favorite," but it became clear to me over time that even though Gawin is Krist's most beloved nong and a good friend to him, Krist most likely never would have rebranded himself in another khuujin out of respect to Singto and what they established and built together. For Krist, Singto is and always will be his only partner, I think.)

Singto reiterated how much more smoothly everything is running between him and Krist now that he's come back. (Personally, I think they both really matured and grew enormously as people during those two years on their own.) Essentially, they're both back in their safe zone now that they've reunited, and while they're at a place in their careers where they don't have to fight to be seen or heard, they don't want to rest on their laurels either.

This was by far the most emotional point for me, and it actually got me quite teary-eyed. Krist talked about their fanbase, Peraya, who got so invested in KristSingto based on one series and a sequel in their first two years in the industry together, and then nothing else for years afterward. I've been here for almost five years and like Krist said, all I've ever seen in real time are concert streams and sponsored events. I remember when I became a fan in 2020 the fandom was still super committed to creating SOTUS fanworks and edits even though it was four years old by then. KristSingto obviously knew their fans wanted more series from them, but even back in 2017 they said they had to do what GMMTV gave them, and unfortunately GMMTV didn't yet see BL as a cash cow. KristSingto had the success of normalizing BL, but their fandom has had to wait this long to be rewarded for it with another KristSingto series.

And Krist promised not to disappoint. Which, of course, I trust. <3

See the full interview below:

(I'm calling them the Christmas Couple from now on and no one can stop me.)

[iitslera]

Inquebrantable ✶ Héctor Fort x OCFEM

summary: Like Robert Lewandowski's younger sister you are forbidden to go out with soccer players, but this promise will be affected when you meet Hector

warnings: english is not my first language (use of translator), other than that, I think nothing else :p

a/n: something loose to be honest, I'll probably have to correct it later

The surname Lewandowski weighed. No matter how much you tried to be invisible, in the environment of FC Barcelona it was impossible not to be recognized as the sister of. At the age of 18, you have temporarily moved to Barcelona to go to university, a choice that Robert had applauded - although with a non-negotiable condition: “Nothing with club footballers. I warn you.”

And you, as a good younger sister, had nodded with a smile. One that, inside, hid a mixture of irony and unconsciousness.

Because then I didn’t know Hector Fort.

The first time he saw him was in a common area of the training center. He was leaving a technical meeting, you were looking for your brother. Their eyes crossed briefly, but enough for time to stretch a couple more seconds. Hector had that calm contained in his eyes. The same one that disarms you without raising your voice.

Then came the fleeting encounters. A greeting, a polite phrase, a smile. And eventually, messages on Instagram. Innocent at first. Memes, jokes, recommendations of places in the city.

The messages became routine. First at night, when the day had already closed and there was no risk that anyone would notice. Then, at any time. During classes. In the subway. Between coffee and notes. He had the ability to show up just when you shouldn’t be distracted. And you, the lack of will to ignore it.

You knew it was a thin line. Dangerously thin. Because Robert trusted you. And Hector... Hector played with him.

The day you agreed to see him outside the club environment, you did it with a conscience so awake that every step you took towards him you felt it was an echo. They chose a discreet place, a cafeteria in Gràcia where the light was dim and other people’s eyes always seemed to look away.

He arrived with a cap. You, with a wild heart.

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” he told you, with that half smile that was already starting to hurt from imagining it so much.

“Me too,” you replied. But you were there. Looking at it closely. Discovering that the screen did not do him justice.

They talked about everything. From soccer. From the university. Of how difficult it was for you to be someone other than Robert’s sister. He listened carefully. An attention that no one else had offered you in that city, as if what you said really mattered.

And then... the silence.

Not uncomfortable. Not tense. But the one that comes when the air begins to take on something inevitable.

He didn’t approach. It didn’t touch you. But **he held your gaze**. Firmly. As if I knew that doing it was a mistake, but also that **not doing it would be a waste**.

“This is wrong,” you murmured, barely audible.

“I know,” he replied, with his eyes on yours. “But I want to see you again.”

Your breathing broke a little. Because you also wanted to. And because you knew that with just one more time, there would be no return.

Then came more appointments. In lost coffees. In parks at dusk. In secondary streets. And one day, in his car, with the windows fogged up and an old song in the background, **his lips met yours**. It was soft. Careful. As if the two knew that they were in a land as sacred as it was forbidden.

His hands didn’t go past your waist. But they were shaking.

“If Robert finds out...” you said, with your voice still trembling. “Don’t let him find out,” he murmured, resting his forehead on yours.

“For now.”

A Tuesday. The kind of day that no one expects for a clandestine encounter. That’s why, perhaps, it was perfect. You had escaped from class with a poorly elaborated excuse, one of those that are not counted twice because even you know that they don’t make sense. Hector was free that morning. They were training in the afternoon. They had spent almost five days without seeing each other - which was already an eternity in their secret language.

Hector’s apartment smelled of freshly brewed coffee. There was soft music playing from the speaker, something without lyrics, only slow chords that filled the air without stealing prominence.

You were sitting at the kitchen bar with your training pants on and your favorite sweater, the one that was too big for you and that he always said looked like his. It wasn’t, but it was starting to smell like it was. Hector cooked something simple - scrambled eggs with toast - while you flipped through a book you didn’t really read.

“You don’t know how hard it was for me not to look for you on the weekend,” he said, without looking at you, while stirring the eggs with the fork.

You hadn’t had it easy either. Family dinners, Robert’s workouts, the controlled environment of his perfect world in which you could barely breathe without feeling observed.

“My brother almost took away my cell phone. He says I’m “strangely distracted”” you mocked, without looking up.

“Strangely?” He smiled, raising an eyebrow.

“He’s worried. He says that instead of focusing on college, he sees me with my head elsewhere.”

“And he’s right,” he said, putting the pan aside and walking towards you. He got between your legs, his hands on your hips, his forehead brushing yours “You’re thinking about me all the time, right?”

“Idiot” you murmured, smiling against his lips before kissing him.

That kiss was different.

I didn’t have the urgency of other times. It was not fast, nor stolen, nor silent. It was slow, dangerous for what it meant. For the time they were allowing themselves to stay there. Too much time.

Your legs closed around his waist. His hands went up under the sweater. There was no need to talk. Both knew by heart the lines they could not cross, but they also knew exactly how far they dared to go.

Hector put you in the inn, the book falling to the floor with a deaf blow. He kissed you with his eyes closed, as if he needed to concentrate so as not to lose control. Your breathing became more agitated when his fingers slid down your thighs with the familiarity that is only earned after many mornings shared.

“Sometimes it makes me want to send everything to hell” he said, against your neck “Your brother, the club, what they say. Just... stay like this. Every day.”

“And if someone sees us leaving here” you whispered, your voice broken by the mixture of fear and desire.

“No one will do it. I promise that today, it’s just you and me.” They hugged like that, for a while. It didn’t even matter that breakfast got cold. On television, the volume was low, but enough for a *Breaking News* notification to go unnoticed.

Until your phone vibrated.

A message. From Robert.

“Where are you?”

Your heart turned over. Hector felt it, because he squeezed you harder.

“Is everything okay?” He asked.

“It’s him. He’s looking for me.”

“Your brother?” You nodded. You got off the inn with a sigh that hurt more than any farewell. He looked at you, without saying anything. He only helped you fix your hair, pull down your sleeves, see you less... his.

But you already were. You were completely.

“I’m going to have to go out through the back parking lot” you said, looking at the time.

“I’ll go with you.”

“No. Stay. If someone sees you coming down with me...” you didn’t say it, but they both understood.

You kissed him one last time, fast. Incomplete.

While you were leaving, he stayed at the door. Watching you walk away.

Because that was his story:

A coming and going of silences broken by looks.

A love so intense that, if he dared to say his name, he could break everything up.

[axii-xix]

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.