#posted on the translation blog because I haven’t posted here in ages

[transtranslations]

Nobody Expects The Japanese Jooster: Some Fun Translation Notes

Hey, guys. Are y'all aware that in the Japanese translation of "Bertie Changes His Mind", the line where Jeeves says "I'm fond of Mr. Wooster" is translated as 「私はウースター様が好きでございます」 (or, "watakushi wa Wooster-sama ga suki de gozaimasu")? Because I'm sure not normal about this.

Tl;dr: this line now reads like a love confession. (If an amusingly keigo-ridden love confession, because even in his internal dialogue Jeeves is physically incapable of not sounding aggressively polite.) More under the cut.

Now, please note that I am not fluent in Japanese, so take all my words with a grain of salt. But I have, at the very least studied it for several years, am currently living in Japan, and have listened to a great number of Japanese love songs. And this is how I would like to share that if you "ga suki" a person, this can and very often does mean you are in love with them.

Technically, "suki" just means "like". If you like apples, you'd say "ringo ga suki". If say, tennis is your favorite sport, you'd say "tenisu wa watashi no ichiban suki na supootsu" - with "ichiban suki" literally meaning "number one like". "Daisuki", or "big like", is the one that is often used for love - but boy is just plain "suki" used a hell of a lot.

Take this translation of "Ano Yume o Nazotte" (or "Tracing That Dream"), for example. Here, the translator has written it literally as "I like you", but contextually the song makes it pretty probable that it's a confession of romantic love. Or have a look at the Project Diva translation of "Suki Kirai" ("Like-Dislike" or "Love-Hate"), which makes "suki"'s usage in romantic love quite clear. There's even a whole conversation about the subject of love confession and translation in The Great Ace Attorney - this links to a fan-translated Let's Play so the original Japanese dialogue is visible, but the conversation happens similarly in the official localized version, though it manifests a bit differently. Regardless, both versions discuss "suki" as used to confess feelings of love.

What I'm saying is, wow, holy shit, Tamaki Morimura made a rather strong choice when using "suki". Because no matter the intent, that potential implication is absolutely going to be present in a reader's mind. And if you're wondering why I know this in the first place, it's because this line is used (in very slightly altered form, as "Wooster-sama" is exchanged for "the young master") in the manga, Please, Jeeves, which in large part uses Morimura's translation for its text, and... well. Let's just say our good pal Bun Katsuta seems to rather leaned into that with the expression.

Yeah.

And this goes in tandem with other aspects of the manga, like an added line that, to my knowledge, is not present anywhere in the original text (certainly not in the story that chapter adapts, "Jeeves in the Springtime"), in which Jeeves says that Bertie's shortcomings do not prevent him from being "beloved as a person". Not to mention the other choices the manga makes, such as having Jeeves wink at Bertie incessantly, or occasionally having hearts float around Bertie when he talks about Jeeves, or the panel at the end of "Without the Option where I swear to God it looks like Jeeves is trying to reach for Bertie's hand.

So, between the official translation and the manga adaptation, I'm not saying we have a Spanish Destiel situation on our hands... but I'm certainly implying it.

(My final note is that this is one of the favorite book series of Empress Emeritus Michiko. Which, with this added context, is very funny to me. I wish she had an open email address so I could ask her if she thinks they're in love.)

[willowwithaheart]

Masterlist!

|| willowwithaheart; welcome to my blog! Links may not be added yet. If something isn’t here, feel free to send a request or post a comment! Criticism and feedback is welcome and appreciated!

Fandoms Masterlist!

-My Hero Academia Masterlist

-Jujutsu Kaisen Masterlist

-Demon Slayer Masterlist

-Blue Lock Masterlist

-Gokurakugai Masterlist

-Genshin Impact Masterlist

-Misc Masterlist

|| current obsessions; Blue Lock and Gokurakugai!

|| disclaimer; some fandoms may not have a link yet—this is either because I have not yet written anything or haven’t had the time to add a link yet. Check out the tags at the bottom of this post if you want to see a specific fandom.

I am NOT comfortable writing…

-Pedophilia

-Age play

-Incest/stepcest

-Character x character (if non-canon)

-OC x character

-Noncon

|| disclaimer; if a request makes me uncomfortable, I will not answer it. Please do not send another request if I have not answered yours. I will either answer it eventually, or not answer it at all.

I AM comfortable writing...

-Yandere

-Fem/Masc/GN reader

-Sub/dom/switch reader or character

-Any body type

-Dubcon

-AUs

-Platonic/familial relationships

-Romantic relationships

|| disclaimer; if something you want to request is not on one of these lists, just ask me if I write for it or not!! I don’t bite :)

Important!

-PLEASE specify if you want a specific feature for the reader. Otherwise I will automatically write it for a GN reader with no features specified.

-I might not be able to answer every ask. This is partly because I have a rather busy life outside of writing and also because motivation kicks my ass sometimes </3

-Minors! I know you’re there! I can’t stop you from reading my R-18 works, but I can say that if you choose to do so, it’s out of my hands. I know we’ve all read and/or watched R-18 stuff as a minor, but please keep it to yourself…

-Read the warnings!! They are very very important. If I forget a warning, please tell me.

-I have specific tags if something is not available here, feel free to go snoop!

Tags!

#lollie-mha🫐 for My Hero Academia works

#lollie-genshin🫐 for Genshin Impact works.

#lollie-jjk🫐 for Jujutsu Kaisen works

#lollie-kny🫐 for Demon slayer works

#lollie-bllk🫐 for Blue Lock works

#lollie-yandere🫐 for Yandere works

#lollie-drabbles🫐 for drabbles

#lollie-thoughts🫐 for small things I may or may not work on in the future! Also find polls there!!

#lollie-thirsts🫐 you know what this is for…

#lollie-angst🫐 for angst

#lollie-fluff🫐 for fluff

#lollie-nsfw🫐 for nsfw

|| disclaimer; please do not translate, copy, or repost my work without credit.

[heartkaji]

₊˚⊹ ᰔ SAILOR’S HANDBOOK !

ⓘ to become a sailor on the s.s. mars spaceship, you must first read the sailor’s handbook & abide by all rules.

── .✦ 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒍 ୨ৎ

୨୧ dni ! with me if you fall into basic dni criteria , pro-Israel, anti-christian, semitic, islamophobic or anti-religious in general. also if you’re one of those atheists constantly trying to disprove certain religions.

୨୧ dni ! with me if you interact with r⌗pe / pedophillic / incest & stepcest / pro-shipping content

୨୧ dni ! if you spread or promote discourse, send anon hate, etc

୨୧ byf ! outside my writing, i thirst & yap a lot and what i say may be explicit ! also i’m fond of dark humor & controversial jokes so if you’re easily offended or overly political this isn’t the blog for you

୨୧ byf ! i’m fond of using pet names or flirting, it’s all jokes so don’t take it too seriously !

୨୧ byf ! i block blank, bot-looking blogs as well as spam likers (4+). spam liking can get me shadow banned so do reblog in between !

୨୧ don’t copy any of my works, themes, styles etc. if you’d like to take inspiration from any of my works, ask first. do not recreate any of my writings for another fandom. also don’t write any fics based on my character ramblings ( tagged as ・౨ৎ ─ 𝒓𝒂𝒎𝒃𝒍𝒆𝒔 𓏲˚˖ ᵎᵎ ) without asking & if i say yes, credit me appropriately at the beginning of the fic.

୨୧ don’t translate my works, use them to ai train or re-upload them anywhere

୨୧ don’t bring any form of discourse to my blog or inbox

୨୧ don’t ask me to be moots. i moot naturally through asks & frequent interaction in general

୨୧ i may break moots if we don’t interact ( like at all, whether via posts, asks or dms ). ofc everyone is busy so as long as i don’t hard block you don’t take it personal ! we can eventually become moots again as long as i don’t block you. i just prefer to reserve moots for people i often interact with.

୨୧ don’t trauma dump in my ask box. i appreciate all my readers very dearly but i can’t help you the way a professional will. you’re free to ask for advice on whatever whenever though !

୨୧ on that note you’re free to joke with me in my inbox as i’m very far from sensitive, but anything straight up rude will be ignored. let’s keep it silly n respectful here !

୨୧ if we haven’t interacted before & i block you, don’t take it seriously. i may block simply because i’ve seen you on my dash too often for my liking. it’s no hard feelings at all !

── .✦ 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 ୨ৎ

୨୧ i take suggestions for smaus & fics, not requests. but note that not every suggestion will get written as i write what interests me. do be patient however as i may simply be saving your suggestion for later.

୨୧ i do not write nsfw but my content is largely 16+. my works are at best heavily suggestive / sexually implicit but where i draw the line is fingering, oral sex or actual intercourse. that said, the worst you might see in my heavily suggestive works are groping or verbal kinks like degradation or daddy/mommy kink.

୨୧ even without explicitly stating i usually write my characters as adults (18+). this is because my content regularly contains themes such as drugs, alcohol, etc.

୨୧ i will write sensitive / deep topics such as anxiety, mental illnesses, depression & drug use but i will not write :

⌗ pedophilia / overly large age gaps. sugar daddy / baby relationship is fine provided both parties are written as legal adults

⌗ blasphemous themes

⌗ stepcest or any form of romance where the characters are related in some way, whether by blood or under law

୨୧ all my writings are fem reader. also i don’t bother myself with trying to make my works inclusive for everyone. if i write the reader with big boobs then you now have big boobs. let’s not complicate things y’all !

done reading ? congrats ! you may now board the s.s mars. here’s a map of the spaceship, enjoy your stay !

© — heartkaji ; do not steal, edit, translate or reupload.

[slytherinshalo]

General notes

✮ first off, minors are allowed just have you age in your bio, if you do not want to be blocked.

✮ block the tags used in this post if you don't want to see any posts containing them. i want everyone to feel safe here! if you would like for me to add more tags please let me know!

✮ do 𝐍𝐎𝐓 and I mean this in the nicest way possible, copy or translate any of my writing. i am not giving you permission to take my works and repost them here or on any other app/website.

✮ reminder that reblogs, comments and asks about my works are greatly appreciated! I absolutely love when I see someone comment that they loved my works it makes me so ecstatic and helps me stay motivated.

Rules for this blog

✮ i will not write about certain things. this could be as I don’t feel comfortable writing it, might not be good at writing it or simply because i don’t want to write about it:

incest and stepcest, threesomes with siblings (e.g. tom and mattheo), age play, inexperienced reader, (mental) illnesses etc, house specific readers (e.g. hufflepuff!reader), pet play, dd/lg and md/Ib, age gaps, self-harm/suicide, male!reader

✮ do not come on my blog demanding when sending ask. one i’m an actual person and two it’s just weird.especially if you haven’t shown any type of support on here, this is the fastest way to get blocked

✮ writing for me is a hobby, please don’t be mad at me if I don’t write for you, as I probably won’t have the time or inspiration to write your request and I am also a college student, with ADHD and who also gets burned out easily.

✮ to piggy back of the previous point, you are allowed to ask questions but please and I can’t stress this enough do it respectfully, i have a personal life and please don’t come in my inbox complaining about me not writing anything.

[mifithemuffin]

◆Satsuten 8th Anniversary Post Translation◆

Happy Satsuten 8th Anniversary!!

Sanada Makoto made a public post on her fanbox acc with a drawing of characters she doesn't draw together that often. This month it's Rachel and Eddie!

Below is my translation of their possible dialogue in a make-believe interaction scenario. It's mostly gags.

You can find the full blog post here

◆Rachel & Eddie Conversation: Start!◆

Eddie: Wow! A drawing of Rachel and me, what a nice surprise!

Say, Rachel, when was the last time we’ve talked to each other anyway?

Rachel: Probably during Episode.NG?

Eddie: Yeah, I think so too. Man, Episode.NG was such a disaster.

Didn’t you step on me and feed me some extremely spicy pizza back then?

Rachel: Oh, it wasn’t... intentional.

Eddie: Was it now?..

Rachel: I should apologize, shouldn’t I?..

Eddie: Ah! N-no, you don’t really have to!..

I’m actually alright despite all of that! Look, my arms are fine at least, my arms...

Rachel: If you say so.

Eddie: Uhm… Y-yeah…

Rachel: …

Eddie: …

...B-but you know, it’s so rare to have a chance to talk to you like that, I’m really happy!

Because even back when you first came to my floor we didn’t have a lot of time to chat.

Q1: What was your first impression of each other?

Rachel: Nothing outside of “a person who can kill me and lay my body to the ground” I suppose.

Eddie: What?! Is this really it?

Even though I did my best to properly confess my feelings to you!

Rachel: It was... a confession?..

Eddie: Of course! I was interested in you from the very beginning.

It’s not like we have a lot of girls my age coming to the building, you know!

Rachel: I see.

...Even so, why did you decide to confess to me? We haven’t met each other even once.

Eddie: Well, I’ve got plenty of reasons!

First of all, when I saw you burying that little bird on Zack’s floor, I couldn’t help but think: “We’d definitely get along!”

And then I heard your beautiful voice...

Rachel: A little bird… Don’t tell me you’ve been watching me?

Eddie: Yeah! One of the next floors was mine, so of course I had access to security cameras!

Rachel: ...For some reason it doesn’t sit right with me.

Eddie: Huh, why? Urm, s-sorry I guess?..

I don’t think it’s that strange of a behavior for a floor master though…

Q2: Did this impression change after?

Rachel: Yeah, to “green”.

Eddie: Green… Is it because of what I looked like during the trial?

Rachel, don’t you have anything else to say about me?

Rachel: ….

Eddie: ….Okay, nevermind. Just please stop giving me this blank stare.

As for me, I thought you were a little bit selfish.

You're also stubborn, don’t listen to what others tell you and only ever care about making things yours.

But in all honesty, I do get it. You and I are more alike than you think. To the point of maybe someday digging graves together, you know!

Rachel: Not that I wish to dig graves like you, though.

Eddie: Wait, what??

Rachel: So all of this time you thought I’m as passionate about grave digging as you are?..

Eddie: Because you tried your hardest to make a nice grave for the little birdie, I...

Rachel: Eddie… you’re terribly assumptious.

Eddie: But doesn't it make the two of us?! Say, doesn't it?

Rachel: ….

Eddie: Did you frown just now?.. It means this time I'm definitely right!

Rachel: ….

Eddie: Hey, no, don’t ignore me!

Say “yes” already!

Fin!

Sanada-sensei also said she's planning to draw Zack and Danny next month, so if you're interested in more unhinged interactions please consider subscribing to her fanbox!

[raven-cincaide]

ⓘ RULES: This is a DARK SFW-heavy, not spoiler-free blog.

This means that those below 18, AKA minors, are welcome in this space to a certain degree! NOTE! Just because I don’t post PWP, NSFW, and SMUT on this channel that does not mean  ALL content is suitable for ALL ages and publics. Read the warnings carefully! 

If you don’t like dark content, cursing, swearing, violence etc then- what the heck are you even doing on a JJK and other fanfic blog? Jesus on a Motorbike. Just block me at this point. The same goes if you just don't like my work. No hard feelings.

ⓘ 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐃𝐍𝐈: if you lack basic common sense: You know the drill at this point, and if you're uncertain feel free to ask. My dm's are always open. Note! If you cannot separate fiction from real life, this place isn’t for you.

ⓘ Blocked?: If you detest self-shipping (including x reader fics or YN fics), dark content or similar questionable material, we don't belong together. Similarly, censorship, ignoring rules, and incompatible personalities might be other reasons why you stop seeing my content.

ⓘ In addition:

 DO NOT claim, plagiarise, repost, translate into different languages, or feed my works into AI. 

DO NOT spam my inbox wondering why I haven’t responded to a request. I get easily overwhelmed...

DO NOT ask for NSFW content; it belongs to Miss Cincaide. 

BUT ALSO  CONCERNING WRITING:

Please DO!! COMMENT and  REBLOG my posts <3 it keeps me motivated.

Please DO!! Engage with me. DMS are the easiest way to get a hold of me.

Please DO!! Tag me in posts, challenges, random posts, and games, and don’t hesitate to send me TikTok/YouTube/Instagram links or similar through my ask. I might even type something out based on them ;)  Please DO!! Read about my requests and follow them. You'll find them here: request rules.

Note! that first and foremost this blog is all about fanfiction.

And most importantly, have FUN!

Main |Raven | Rules and Requests | Masterlist | Links

All fics are unique works by ©ravencincaide 2024. Do not copy/repost/translate or spread my work(s) without my explicit permission. If you see any of my work(s) reworked/reposted/copied anywhere, please inform me!

[ravencincaide]

Come now, rules are meant to be read~

ⓘ RULES: This is a DARK SFW + BSD heavy, not spoiler-free blog.

This means that those below 18, AKA minors, are welcome in this space to a certain degree! NOTE! Just because I don’t post PWP, NSFW, and SMUT on this channel that does not mean  ALL content is suitable for ALL ages and publics. Read the warnings carefully! 

If you don’t like dark content, cursing, swearing, violence etc then- what the heck are you even doing on a BSD blog? Jesus. Just block me at this point and get on with your day.

ⓘ 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐃𝐍𝐈: if you lack basic common sense: Do I even need to list it all at this point? C'mon you've seen it a million times before and this blog is no exception. In addition, if you cannot separate fiction from real life, like trolling or just being rude, then this place isn’t for you.

ⓘNote! All the profile pictures and other art content is AI-generated using Gencraft. An issue? You know where the block button is.

ⓘ In addition:

 DO NOT claim, plagiarise, repost, translate into different languages, or feed my works into ai. Doing this will just result in a ban and ultimately me hiding my works (again). 

DO NOT spam my inbox wondering why I haven’t responded to a request. I get easily overwhelmed, I have other obligations, and I’m just crawling out of a hiatus. 

DO NOT ask, demand or request NSFW stuff ON THIS BLOG. All that content is being edited and moving to Miss Cincaide. 

DO NOT spam like my inbox, I get that you want to bookmark my stuff but it does nothing but clod my activity box and doesn't give me any indication of what's like and not liked. And it does little to get me new traffic.

BUT ALSO  CONCERNING WRITING:

Please DO!! COMMENT ON and  REBLOG my posts <3 it keeps me motivated.

Please DO!! Engage with me. DMS are the easiest way to get a hold of me and then asks. You need something quickly from me and it can’t wait a few days? Reach out on my current Main account: Raven-Cincaide. I check it much more frequently!

Please DO!! Tag me in posts, challenges, random posts, games, and don’t hessitate to send me tiktok/youtube/insta links or similar through my ask. I might even type something out based on them ;) 

Note! that first and foremost this blog is all about fanfiction. It’s done in my spare time, as a hobby and is published in what I consider a safe space. I don’t pump out fics like a machine. I try to stay away from hate, call outs and similar so that I can write and publish my writing here. Every now and then however I may reblog something on here or make a post about the shit-storm going on. Still, this is primarily a fic posting blog, not a moralizing one!

Questions, comments or concerns? Feel free to contact me!

[nony-bear]

Matched (Part I)

This blog and ALL posts are for people 18 + ONLY. 

I do not give permission for my works to be re-uploaded or copied in any way or form including translations. 

 Photo Found Here // Banner Made By Me 

Dividers Found Here & Here

Parings: Alpha Bucky Barnes X Omega Reader 

Warnings: ABO dynamics, slight medical speak, doctors office, blood tests, therapists / therapy mentioned, angst maybe? 

Word Count: 1562

Summary: This is part one of the series Matched. Bucky Barnes always dreamed of settling down with a mate but after decades of trauma leaving him a grumpy old man with a robotic arm he’s convinced no one could love an alpha like him. Begrudgingly he follows his therapist advice and enrolls in the Swan Program a mate matching program offered but the new aged bio-tech company Mate-Tech. 

A/N: I cannot believe I actually am finally doing this. I have had this idea for a series since even before I started writing on Tumblr and it feels so surreal now that I am fully bringing it to life. I’m incredibly nervous about sharing it with everyone because of how close it is to my heart. If I am being honest at the time of posting this I am going through quite the rough patch but I’m hoping finally doing this will help me through. It has already brought me so much joy already and I hope it can bring some of you all a little bit of happiness too. Any likes and reblog or sharing of any kind would be greatly appreciated but as always this blog and all of its content is for people ages 18 and up and never do I ever give permission for my works to be re-uploaded or copied in any way or form including translations. 

Series Masterlist 

Part II 

Bucky stares up at the building in disbelief. Was he really going to do this? Just last week, he thought this was the stupidest idea he had ever heard, committed to rejecting it the second his therapist brought it up.

"James, you want to find a mate, you've said so yourself, what's stopping you?" Dr. Douglas, who Bucky most commonly referred to as Marie, asked as she sat in her usual armchair, glasses sliding down her nose and right hand twirling her pen, no doubt about to write down notes about whatever his answer may be. Bucky didn't mind, though; he liked therapy oddly enough. After a whole life spent unable to talk about his feelings, there was something comforting in a specified time and place each week to do just that.

"I've already answered that question," Bucky grumbled, shoving his hands further down into his pockets.

Marie's lips pursed together, matching Bucky's annoyance. "Well, you must be holding back something because, to my knowledge, you have an excellent solution to all your worries, and yet you haven't taken it."

"Sorry if I'm a little hesitant about some 21st-century AI-technological-mate-matching-bullshit." He responded with a subtle eye roll.

"So you at least read some of the pamphlet I gave you?"

Bucky huffed. "Yeah, I read it."

"So what's the problem? Why are you… hesitant?" Marie asked, adding finger air quotes around Bucky's words.

"Stuff like this didn't exist in my day. There weren't places you could just go and be hooked up to some machines, answer a few questions, and then a compatible mate be hand-selected for you. You had to go out there like a real alpha and find your mate yourself."

"And how is that working out for you, James?" Marie asked skeptically. "You've been in here for months now lamenting over never finding a mate, whether it be due to your past, or your arm, or whatever may have you. You said you don't feel like an Alpha because you don't feel in control…. So take control.

Bucky now repeats those words in his head over and over again. Take control.

He nods to himself and walks into the building with a deep breath.

Inside the door, he is met with a large reception area, white, sterile, medical-looking, and doing absolutely nothing to calm his nerves.

He walks to the large desk in the back center of the room framed by elevators on either side, leading up to what looked like dozens of floors on the outside and two betas working behind it.  

"Um, excuse me?" Bucky asks once he's approached the desk.

"Hi, is there something I can help you with, sir?" The taller of the two betas asks, standing up from her chair at her computer. She's pretty, all soft skin and bedroom eyes, but Bucky doesn't quite notice due to her overbearing scent filling the space between them.

During his time with Hydra, they did everything they could to prohibit him from smelling or being smelled and anything else that left him more than a weapon of flesh for them to use. Now even the tiniest bit of unpleasant notes within someone's scent slaps him in the face at first whiff.  

"Uh yeah, I have a consultation for uh…." Bucky stumbles over his words, half embarrassed to admit what he's here for. "The swan program…."  

The beta smiles almost as if she wants to comment on a man like Bucky seeking out such a service. "Of course, can I have your name please?" Of course, someone like her wouldn't understand. She looks perfect, like one of the women on the pamphlet Marie gave him. Bucky wonders if she would still be so confused if she saw his arm or realized who he was.

After getting checked in, the beta sends Bucky up to the 3rd floor to begin his consultation and officially start his matching journey.

"Okay, Miss Y/L/N, we have all the paperwork you submitted before coming into today, but I just need to double-check some things before we get started, okay?" The technician, Anne, asks you as she rolls her wheeled stool over to her computer.

"Sure, of course." You agree, smiling but also nervously picking at the paper sheet between your body and the muted teal examination chair.  

"Great!" Anne replies before going over our full name, age, date of birth, blood type, allergies, and the rest of your vital information. "Okay, and we have your designation as omega, and your preference for matches as alpha males unless there are stronger results for beta males, is that correct?" You nod, and she continues down the list inwardly, cringing at yourself, feeling quite vulnerable as you're broken down into a bulleted list. "And we have that you are available for the next available program, which is this weekend, is that correct?"

"Yes, this weekend works great." You nod.

"Great, thank you!" Anne says, typing something on her computer before standing up and putting on some examination gloves. "Okay, so now we can get to the more bio-med-tech part of the consultation. And don't worry, I promise to tell you everything I do before I do it, and none of it should hurt, except maybe a pinch when I take your blood."

"Sounds good." You smile, albeit slightly nervous, as she begins walking you through the process of taking your blood.

"So, do you have any questions about the program?" Anne asks, trying to distract you.

You look away from her and the procedure at hand. "A lot, actually. The program is a little secretive. I'm not really sure what to expect." You confess.

Anne chuckles and finishes, placing a bandage on you and turning to her medical equipment on the desk. "That's understandable, but don't worry. Once you get back here on Saturday, your program guides will tell you everything you need to know. The secrecy is only to prevent other companies from copying our program. It's not scary at all."

"Have you been through the program?"

"Not the Swan program exactly, but I was a volunteer in the trial runs. It's where I met my wife." She smiles. "Okay, now I'm just going to place these little pads attached to these wires on your temples and the scent glands on your neck and wrists, okay? Again it shouldn't hurt at all."  

You allow her to place the sticky pieces of plastic onto your skin, calmed by her explanations of each step and openness about the program. "Wow," you smile, "That's wonderful."

"Thank you." She smiles. "Now lie back for me." She guides you to recline in the chair. "Perfect, now you just lay there for the next 15 minutes, and I will be back to unhook you and send you off with all your paperwork."

You lie there looking up at the clouds and scenery painted on the sky, purposefully placed for you to look at during this part of your consultation. You worry about the weekend and all that is to come for you. And after years and years of trying to look for a mate, being largely unsuccessful, and the glimmers of hope turning into hard, bitter memories, you hope this will be it.

At first, the thought of a mate matching program felt ridiculous, perhaps even pathetic, but the more you researched, the more you couldn't deny your interest. With scientific backing and thousands of 5-star reviews late one night, you took the plunge and submitted an application. And now, here you are at your consultation, your last step before entering the official program.

You've completed pages and pages of paperwork outlining your medical history, the details of your personality, and your hopes and dreams of the perfect mate. The consultation you were currently at was to check your vitals to match your profile and collect samples of your scent. Although you didn't know a ton about the actual program, you knew that the company prided itself on its scent technology and data analysis software. Not that you really knew what any of that stuff really meant.  

After Anne comes back in and removes the pads from your skin, making sure to take all the sticky adhesive with them, she gives you all of your paperwork regarding what time to be back here on Saturday, where to go, what to bring, etc. before sending you on your way.

You walk out of the examination room and down the hall of the 3rd floor towards the elevator, pushing the button and waiting for the doors to open.

When they do, you step inside and press the down button. You can't help but to notice the lingering smell of an alpha in the small compartment and blush to yourself, thinking that if half the alpha's in the program smell this amazing, you'll have nothing to worry about.

Bucky, who just exited the elevator moments ago, sits patiently awaiting his turn for his consultation with a technician named Anne.

Are you looking for your true mate?

Consider Mate-Tech's newest mate matching program - The Swan Program!

In just one weekend, find the mate you've been searching for using our most successful techniques and cutting-edge technology.

A one of a kind program open to anyone 18 and older, all designations welcome!

Call XXX-XXX-SWAN or go to matetech.com/swan today for more information.

Mate-Tech: Where bonds begin.

No Pressure tags of some friends who might be interested (If you don’t want to be tagged no worries just let me know!): @dadplease​ // @lavendercitizen​ // @marc-rogers​ // @starksbabie​ // @honeychicana​ // @mianorth​ // @the-soulofdevil​ // @purple-babygirl​ // @sweet-dreams-steve​ // @slutforstevie​ // @stevesbestgirl​ // @donutloverxo​ // @hannahshattuck​ // @selfcarecap​ // @worksby-d​ // @saiyanprincessswanie​ // @tuiccim​

[foxgloveprincess]

Shifting Gears

A Story Written by pisseddaddy (In Collaboration With @foxgloveprincess​)

Pairing: Stucky x Female Reader [First Person]

Summary: Small town life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Especially when everyone’s a piece of shit. We all wear our masks, but how long until they fall?

Warnings: Rape (Non-Con that kinda turns into Dub-Con at the end, Fingering, Cunnilingus, Unprotected Sex, Holding Someone Down, Forced Orgasm, Biting), Dark Fic, Manipulation, Possessive Behaviour, Modern AU, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Cynicism, Cursing, Misogyny. Please proceed with caution. 

Words: 5.7k

Credits: For the beautiful edits of sexy Steve and Bucky made by @nix-akimbo​ and to the anon who inspired this: link

Song lyrics from Frank Sinatra’s ‘That’s Life’.

A/N: Steve and Bucky are veterans but they didn’t fight in WW2 (this is part of a modern AU).

This story was written by pisseddaddy (also known as the nonnie who calls me bunny). If you haven’t read through the asks on my blog between us, she approached me to ask if I could help her with this project and I agreed, stepping in to help her edit her story and share it with all of you (since she doesn’t have a Tumblr of her own). We both have enjoyed working together and are now ready to share this with all of you!

Dividers by firefly-graphics

We would love feedback, so go ahead and reblog if you want. No permission given to copy, translate, rewrite or post this work, at all.

I guess I would be the Beta on this one, but I’m human and fallible, so all mistakes are my own. 😊 If I’ve missed any tags, please let me know.

Enjoy!

Tagging (with no obligation to read, just if you want): @nix-akimbo​ @saiyanprincessswanie​ @slothspaghettiwrites​ @kleohoneyao3​ @caffiend-queen​

Please DO NOT click ‘Keep Reading’ if you are not 18+ years of age, thank you!

Life in a small town is simple. Time ticks differently—slower—here.  You do what you need to do in order to survive. Preferably with the least amount of effort.

So, maybe not so simple. But it’s what I’ve gotten used to.

I’ve learned to stay unobtrusive, cautious, always act friendly, speak only when spoken to—just stay as invisible as possible if you don’t want to end up the talk of town. Of course, men are freer than women, their actions less scrutinized, lauded more for less. The scales of equality imbalanced.

I think Orwell understood something vital when he picked pigs for his Animal Farm. Our mayor, for example, is a fine pig, if you ask me. A greedy, slimy, old, ugly brute hungry for power, dominance and luxury—or as he prefers to describe himself, a sensualist with a great love for the finer things in life. His grabby, unwelcome hands pinching every ass they can reach. But he’s not the only dangerous character in town.

Enter two dubious mechanics, Steve Rogers and James ‘call-me-Bucky’ Barnes. Yes, those two know the art of deception.

I will admit, they cut a fine figure, both Adonis-like in stature. And I would be lying if I said they’re not wanking material—tall, ripped, asses you can crack nuts with, the body of real soldiers. Their faces angelic, Rogers’ framed with honey-gold locks and Barnes’ with chestnut brown curls.

Apropos soldiers—they’re veterans. Yep, makes them to two real heroes, I guess. Rogers came out of that hell quite unharmed, but Barnes paid a higher price. He lost his left arm to the fight. Sure, the army compensated him with a first-class prostheses, a cybernetic arm, all shiny titanium. For whatever reason, it seems to be quite the fantasy for the ladies here, but it can’t really replace the real thing.

When it comes to their characters—well, that’s a whole other story. Rogers is the more social one. Always ready with an attentive ear for everyone, respectful to the elders in the community, and helpful where he can be. Barnes is more reserved, farouche even. Maybe because of his arm. Though in general, both always have a friendly smile on their face, a cocky grin here, and a respectful greeting there.

Their lifestyle is, indeed, always the talk of the town. Both living together in a tiny apartment over their shop. You can guess how such an arrangement stimulates the imagination of small-minded people.

The men tend to be more pragmatic saying, “They’re both vets. They saw and did things during their service no man should. Of course, they want to be left alone more often than not. And with the way the women in this town prattle and giggle. Who can blame them? But they’re some fine lads.”

The women are often more imaginative.

As for myself, I’m sure—deeply, instinctually sure—they’re as fishy and filthy as the rest of the town. After all, in the end, we’re all wearing masks.

The only problem is that avoiding them is nigh impossible. They have the only mechanic garage for miles, Goddamnit. When your car is broken, tough shit—they’re your only viable option.

I’m still cursing the day when I had to call them because Putin—my car, named jokingly after the Russian President—packed up. I should have expected it, really. It’s a very old Lada my grandfather bequeathed to me after his death. He bought it in Berlin during his stationing as a soldier in the late 80s, and then brought it home. He often told me stories of how his German friend and he used it to smuggle everything from West Berlin to East Berlin and, sometimes, vice versa. His favourite story involved catching a glimpse of Putin, himself, at Checkpoint Charlie. Although, everyone knew that couldn’t be further from the truth. Yet he swore it until the day he died, and thus, the car earned the name Putin. And the name is still fitting: a death-trap, way past its time for retirement, and the bane of my existence. But I digress.

The first time I met them was actually okay. I can’t really recall the exact circumstances, maybe one night dancing at the bar or out and about at a local funfair. In the end, it doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is this: it was the first nail in my coffin.

They were friendly, polite, funny—everything the townsfolk usually described them as, but there was a heaviness in the air. The subject of our conversation escaped me. Surely the usual, unimportant small talk like ‘How is work?’, ‘Still unmarried I see’, ‘A nice fella will come and make a real woman out of you soon’. And the only thing you can do is smile, nod like a good puppet, think to yourself that this prick can go fuck themselves, find a shitty excuse to leave, and repeat the same shit with the next person.

But with them—it was as if I was the joke without even realizing it. The skin prickling at the back of my neck, my hairs standing on end. Something set my inner alarm blaring and if I had known what I know now…I would have driven Putin into a very deep, watery grave.

Shit started when that stupid hunk of metal decided to quit its job. I was doing business for Mrs. Baker; a lovely old lady for whom I work.

Usually, I only take care of her accounting. But her only son called in sick—well, really, the sucker either couldn’t hold his liquor or didn’t know his limits—and wasn’t able to do his job. I was asked to do his deliveries. And you can’t exactly say no to an old lady, who’s your boss, and lets you rent for cheap in small town like this without becoming persona non grata.

So, I plastered a smile on my lips, forced out a meek, “Of course, Mrs. Baker. No problem, Mrs. Baker,” and saw to the deliveries as quickly as possible.

Have I already told you that my damn car decided to quit? In the middle of nowhere. I had no other option but to call Stucky’s Garage—God, who came up with that stupid name anyway?

Lucky me, it was just a small problem with the battery. Unlucky me, James ‘call-me-fucking-Bucky’ Barnes was the one I had the honour of working with. That bozo was even creepier than his bestie, Rogers.  

But it wouldn’t be the last time I saw him. After that day, the damn car broke down three. more. times.

Have I said it would’ve been a wiser decision to just drown Putin in a very deep lake?

The sun shone bright and warm as I drove home one day. And this bucket of bolts decided it would be a great idea to play ‘Guess Who’s Quitting’—again.

Not again, please, I silently prayed, resting my head against the steering wheel, eyes squeezed shut and a wave of hopelessness washing over me. How is it possible that this damn car kept fucking breaking down? I just had a car repair last week.

I drew a deep breath into my lungs, calming my initial panic. Stucky’s Garage was not an option I wanted to choose. The last three times were uncomfortable enough—Barnes’ leering stare inspecting me like a prized breeding cow. I bet if he could, he would have weighed my breasts like udders, inspected my eyes and teeth for illness, and given me a slap on the ass when he was through and decided to buy me. I didn’t care if they’re well respected and nice to everyone else, every time I found myself around them, a sickening feeling washed over me and my blood ran cold.

I could call the auto shop of the neighbouring town. But fuck, they’re miles away—definitely not gonna drive all the way here. And even if they did come, how was I supposed to explain myself? People would talk when they heard word of it.

What would I say when they asked, “Cutie, what’s with that nonsense?” or confronted me to say, “We’re all a big family. We support each other.” And those would be the G-rated conversations.

Sighing heavily, my only option loomed over me like a weight on my shoulder. So I scrounged around my glovebox, found their card, and extracted my mobile phone from the depths of my backpack. Reluctantly, I typed each number into the keypad and waited with bated breath as the line rang.

“Stucky’s Garage what can I help you with?” greeted a deep, melodic voice.

My eyes closed as I gathered my voice and mumbled in reply, “Yeah. My car. It’s broken…again. It won’t start. I’ve checked everything. Don’t know what the problem is now.”

 A sonorous chuckle resounded over the phone speaker in response. “Well, kitty, give me your whereabouts and I’ll pick you up.”

My eyes glanced about my surroundings, muttering my location along the road. And with a final word, the call ended.

Wiping my sweating palms on my baggy jeans, my mind wandered in contemplation. My attention finding a focus on the denim, somewhat peculiar in a town where proper women wore only skirts and dresses. Jeans were for men, baggy and often ill-fitting, paired with a white ribbed tank and a chequered shirt. My fashion choices often made me stick out like a sore thumb, but I had my reasons—one being that pig of a mayor with his wandering hands—reason enough to forgo being considered a true lady.

Lost in thought, Rogers’ truck surprised me as it pulled up to tow my car. My eyes flashed to the clock on my dashboard, mildly stunned by such a hasty arrival. Rogers stepped out of his vehicle, his figure strong and broad, the tails of his open button-down shirt waving in the wind.

“Again, kit-kat”, he laughed, leaning his forearm over the window of my car and lowering himself to catch a peek of me, “It seems you enjoy our services quite a bit.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” I rebutted bluntly, “I had my car fixed last week and now it’s wrecked again. I’d say you’re doing a sloppy job.” My fury bled into my tone, vexed by his audacious claim and raring for a fight.

“Now, girlie, you better behave and watch that dirty mouth of yours,” he bit, his tone strict and eyes wild, staring me down as his jaw ticked in irritation.

I choked out a small “sorry,” and climbed quickly into his breakdown vehicle. My mind raced, struck by my knee-jerk response to his ire—that was new, addressing him so weakly. Despite my normal meek and mild demeanour, they never failed to draw out that fighting instinct. My eyes narrowed as I watch him hook up my car to his truck, more wary of him than before.

The truck shifted slightly as he hauled himself into his seat, a heavy sigh breezing past his lips, “I know it’s frustrating that your car keeps breaking down. Tell you what. Today we’ll fix your car for free.” He cut his eyes to me, dark with mischief and desire. His hand reached over to pet my thigh, fingers stoking up and down in a sensual caress. “You know, cause of the sloppy job.” His lips quirked in a cocky smirk—bastard.

I held my tongue and nodded, shifting on my seat to squirm away from his touch.

You’re probably thinking: ‘Oh God. That’s gonna be a long ride.’ You’d have been wrong. It was a blip in comparison to what happened after.

The ride itself didn’t take long and Rogers managed to drive without further inappropriate advances. Unfortunately, the moment he stopped in front of the garage I realized how completely alone I was with the two men whom I despised. My stomach immediately sank with dread.

“Get out and tell Bucky we’re here, will you, kitten?” Rogers requested—though with the brutish grunt of it from his lips, it sounded much more like a demand than an actual question.

My feet found the solid ground outside of his truck, kicking up dust in my wake as I hesitantly scuffed my way into the shop. The air smelled of old oil, rust, wet concrete, and cigarettes. Music drifted around the room, old-fashioned crooners lilting their lyrics as a soundtrack. Something from the 50s or 60s, some of my personal favorites. Frank Sinatra, a man who knew his setbacks, the love of my life. My ear perked up, catching the words as they played from a crackling radio.

I said that's life (That's life)

And as funny as it may seem

Some people get their kicks

Stomping on a dream

But I don't let it, let it get me down

Cause this fine old world, it keeps spinnin' around

I reached the counter, a big used book and a bell sitting atop the cracked linoleum. Staring at the bell, I couldn’t bring myself to tap on it and draw attention to myself. Instinct screaming at me to turn around and run away—leave this place and my car and get as far away as possible. Just leave a note and get the hell out of here.

But before I could force my body to move, Rogers suddenly stood behind me, trapping me between him and the counter. His fingers smacked the small mechanism of the bell, the ding shattering any chance I had for a hasty escape. The sharp chime echoed through the room and down the hall. Rogers’ smell invaded my senses, a strong musky scent that tickled my nose.

His breath brushed against my ear, “Kitten, what is wrong with you today? You seem so tense. Here let me help you,” he whispered soothingly to me, like a secret meant for just the two of us.

He started massaging my shoulders, his hands kneading all the knots. I bit back a moan of pleasure. It felt so good—sogood. His fingers pressing against all the tension locking up my back, muscles melting as the stress drained away. Fuck. Never in my whole life had I received such amazing treatment.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, a small voice scathingly scolded, ‘Bitch. Focus. He’s touching you without permission,’ but it was so far away, so easy to ignore. And the massage felt so good. I couldn’t help but dissolve into a needy, mewling mess.

“That’s it. That’s it, kitty. Let go,” his voice soothed, lulling me further and further away from rationality.

I didn’t even notice the small rhythmic brushes of his pelvis. How he rubbed his hardening cock against my ass—smoothly, gently. I was so lost in state of needy hunger that I missed Bucky approaching from down the hall, eyes dark and hyper-focused on the scene like a predator.

“Having fun, I see,” he chuckled, an amused smile on his smug face, posing in place like he owned the whole damn world in his stupid blue jumpsuit. The upper part wrapped around his waist, the arms tied in knots, exposing his athletic chest barely covered by the stretched cotton of his white tank.

My eyes caught the glint of his cybernetic arm. The first time I had ever allowed myself to look, curious at the design of the prosthetic. The plates shifted as he flexed and crossed his arms over his chest. Was that clicking coming from his arm?

That noise, that mechanical whirr, was enough to snap me back to my senses. With a heave of force, I pushed Rogers away, leveraging just enough space between the counter and him to squirm out. My cheeks filled with embarrassed heat, mentally berating myself at my folly.

All I wanted was to leave this damn place, so I let that instinct guide me, turning on my heel and ready to run. But before I even took one step, Rogers caught me, holding me tight against him, my back crushed to his chest. One of his arms settled between my breasts, the other wrapping around my belly, yanking my body back around and forcing me to turn my attention to Barnes.

“Now, now. No reason to be embarrassed. In fact, you should feel flattered. Usually, we don’t treat our customers so warmly,” he taunted, cleaning his flesh hand with a dirty cloth and removing the glove from the other. “Furthermore, Steve already told me that we’re fixing your car for free. Sloppy jobs aren’t something we want to be associated with.” He stared at me, a shit-eating, self-satisfied grin stretching his lips—God, I wanted to punch it. “Follow me into the office where we can discuss your problem.” Barnes bid as he turned away and led us back to a small office.

I didn’t want to move. Really, I didn’t. But Rogers had me in such a strong grip and with every step he took, he nudged my feet forward, forcing me to match his progression down the hall. And then there we stood in that damn room, the door locking behind me with a click.

The room was littered with junk, cupboards lining the walls, piled high with papers. A desk sat in the middle, smeared with oil stains and ink smudges. An ashtray pushed to one corner of the desk, filled with a mound of ash and stubbed out gaspers.

Rogers sat on the desk, positioning me to hold me tight while sniffing at my hair like a rabid dog, running his nose over the skin behind my ear. My shirt hung off my shoulders, dishevelled and wrinkled. The strong man and my fear immobilized me while Barnes stood proudly at my front, one hand on his hip, cocky smirk mocking.

“Surely you remember our first encounter,” he said, stalking toward us.

I shook my head in denial, thoughts jumping with each step closer he took. He paused before me, cocky grin melting away, and I tensed. As if it wasn’t enough that Rogers was already violating my personal space, Barnes reached out, stroking my cheek tenderly with so much naked adoration in his eyes—it certainly wasn’t helping me one bit.

“That’s okay,” he assured softly, “We remember. The mask you wore. Always so good. Always a smile on those beautiful lips. Always answering meekly. Always so polite.” He chuckled quietly, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. “But we saw through your façade. So much contempt and disdain in those shiny eyes. It’s kinda surprising how much hate fits in such a lovely body.”

My head shook. I didn’t want to hear this—I wanted to get out of here. Wriggling my body, I contorted my posture to push, pull, kick—anything to escape—but Rogers and Barnes held me steady in their unrelenting grasp.

“Yes,” he purred, “the truth hurts. But it’s not like this is news to you.” His voice dropped low, secretive, sultry. “It intrigued us how well you played you part. Always giving your opposite the feeling of superiority, never taking it for yourself. That’s what people like—feeling superior—and if you play your role well enough, they’re willing to pay. Handsomely.”

“Why are you telling me this?” I asked, needing answers. Because this conversation—or, better, monologue—made my palms sweat and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. My initial feeling of dread spread over my whole body, dripping down my spine like molasses.  

“Because we want to give you what you really want. Freedom. Freedom from this constricting social cage.” His fingers brushed delicately over my cheek. “I mean, in the end, a wild cat like you doesn’t belong here.” A twinkle glittered in his eyes, shining at me in delight.

A flicker of anger danced through me as I bit out, “Deal.” I jerked my head away from Barnes’ caress. “Let me the hell out of here. I don’t fucking like your games.”  My shoulder dug into Rogers as I thrust it back, trying to get away.

“In due time,” he replied cryptically with a brief nod to Rogers, and suddenly I was pressed face first onto the table. Barnes moved behind me, pushing my hips painfully against the edge, resting over me and caging me with his body. “Stevie, hold her arms.”

In a flash—too quick for me to really react—Rogers had my upper arms in a vice-like grip, stretching me out in an awkward position across their desk. Continuing to wriggle like crazy, determined to gain my freedom, the reality slowly set in that I was completely trapped. The fight within me intensified, my lips pulled into a feral snarl as I bucked and kicked back, heated adrenaline rushing through my bloodstream.

“Wild cat. Don’t make things more difficult,” Bucky grunted, tearing at the zip of my jeans and ripping the denim down to my knees, “It will happen one way or another.”

With his foot, he pushed my jeans to my ankles, the sound of his boot thumping against the floor. My knees smacked against each other at the harsh movement, my whole body nearly falling backwards. Only Rogers’ hold on my upper arms, tightening immediately in response to my loss of balance, kept me in my bent position.

“Steady. Steady.” A breathless laugh left Barnes’ mouth. His groping hands pushed my hips back against the edge of the table, pinning me in place. “I imagine you must be totally confused,” he mused, stroking the exposed skin of my rump in a soothing gesture, hovering over me once again. His hands wandered under the hem of my shirt, tracing upward along my side to place his warm palm against my belly and knead the bit of excess flesh there. Though I remained motionless, my teeth ground together, seething at his boldness. But both men paid my ire no mind. And when Bucky was satisfied, he moved on until his fingers graced the underside of my breasts. Stroking the skin there delicately but refraining from really touching them.

Humiliation surged hot up my spine, splashing across my cheeks, which I tried to hide in the crook of my arms. But Rogers kept them firm in his control, giving me no leeway to hide from my violation.  

Barnes dipped his head closer to me, his breath tickling me at the nape of my neck, “I know you’re scared,” he crooned into my ear, “but this will be good for you—for us.” His hand cupped my tits, kneading them lewdly, rolling my nipples between his pinched fingers and sending little jolts of pleasure down to my pussy. Small moans escaped my lips, forced out from his ministrations even as I tried to bite them back.

My chest rose and fell heavily with my gasping breaths. And Barnes took my reluctantly debauched state as a signal to move to the next level.

“Stevie, hold her tight. She’s gotta stay put.”

Barnes lowered himself down to his knees, hooking his fingers into my white panties and pulling them carefully down, until his view of my ass was unobstructed. My legs shivered. From what, I didn’t know—the cool air, the fear, the potential for pleasure, the adrenaline.

“We’re not gonna hurt you. Never,” Steve rasped, blue eyes blown black with lust, his fingers gently stroking the skin of my upper arms, even as he held me tight.

The vulnerability of my position gnawed at my guts, a nauseous, terrified feeling. The newness of this situation added to the sickness—never had I let a man so close to my most intimate parts—but Barnes didn’t care.

He spread my legs as wide as the taut fabric of my jeans would allow and dove in, lapping doggedly at my lower lips and clit. Nothing could prepare me for a sensation so new, so foreign. I shrieked at the first contact of his tongue and tried to escape, pushing my weight on my hands and tipping forward to stand on my toes.

Steve only laughed, preventing any further movement and pushing my upper body back to lean on my elbows. His fingers brushed over the apples of my cheek, a warm caress, as he tilted his face dangerously close to mine.

“This is important,” he assured, eyes sparkling with an adoring stare. “We need to bond.” His teeth flashed at me when he smiled, the expression making my knees weak. “You know, men fall in love with a woman before sex.” His fingers continued to brush over my cheeks, my skin prickling under his touch. “Women fall in love afterwards. We already love you. We love you somuch.” His voice dropped to a low whisper, his words ringing in my ears like a sinister threat. “Now it’s your turn.”

Before my mind could even fathom the stupidity of his statement, Steve’s lips descended, capturing mine in a tender kiss. Working together with Bucky’s ministrations, my mind whirled, too distracted to form even one clear thought.

It was just too much.

Though Steve started kissing me softly, almost chaste presses of his lips against mine—small butterfly kisses that intoxicated me—they soon turned sloppy, wild, feverish. Throaty, whining mewls rushed past my lips, but Steve swallowed every noise I made, muffling me with flicks of his tongue.

Steve assaulted my senses from the front, Bucky from the rear—his needy mouth sucking at my folds, licking with the flat of his tongue from my hole to my clit, thrusting inside my fluttering walls.

I freed my lips from Steve’s, gasping in desperately needed air. He allowed me the short reprieve, but kept my face close. Exchanging breaths between our gaping mouths, his breath fanning into mine, my moans responding in answer.

“Bucky, I think she’s close,” Steve groaned, eyes flitting briefly over my shoulder before returning to my face.

A sharp, surprised shriek punched out of my lungs, my pleasure killed in an instant. Jerking away from Bucky, my nose pushed into Steve’s cheek, shock coursing through my veins. What the actual fuck—that ass just bit me, that fuckhead really just bit my pussy, hard.

“Bucky is a bit of a biter,” Steve explained easily with a laugh.

I moved my face away from his as much as he’d allow and stared into his eyes, dumbfounded. No shit.

Steve only laughed harder in response, his fingertips digging into my cheeks. Even Bucky joined in the amusement, chuckling into my sensitive folds, another brush of his teeth over my swollen flesh prompting my hips to jolt away. But with their combined grip, even in their mirth, they didn’t let me get far.

Slowly, Bucky stood from his position behind me, nibbling on my inner thighs and my rump. His legs pressed to the back of mine as he loosened up the knot of his sleeves around his hips, jostling the rest of his jumpsuit until it hit the floor. He shoved up my shirt, kissing along my spine until he draped over me again, pressing his nose to the back of my neck. His feet shuffled forward that miniscule bit more to press our bodies flush together. The air whooshed out of my lungs as his teeth nipped at my nape, his facial hair tickling over my skin.

His dick slotted against my pussy lips. His pelvis rocking languidly, coating his cock with my arousal.

Panic lanced through me, feeling the heated weight of his girth so close to my entrance—a slap of reality splashing over me. Like a wild, captured animal I wriggled my body—once again fighting to get free.

But my movements had the opposite effect from my aim, Bucky groaning deeply, his hard cock pressing more insistently between my folds. I ceased my struggle immediately, but the damage was done. He nearly collapsed on top of me, rutting against me whilst restraining my movements. Only Steve supported us on the desk, holding my arms diligently.

Steve caught my face before it could hit the sturdy wood, his large hand engulfing the right side in a touch too hot.

My eyes met his, pleading, “You said you want me to be free. So let me go. I don’t want this.” Tears pricked the back of my eyes, threatening to spill out and down my cheeks.

“Wild cat,” he cooed in response, “Everything has its price. You of all people should know that.”

As if to punctuate his partner’s remark, Bucky thrust into me. Never in my whole life had I felt so stuffed and full. With every inch Bucky pressed into me, he groaned and panted harder, the caress of his breath fanning across my skin.

“Fuck, kit-kat. You’re so damn tight. Made for my cock,” he moaned, throaty and guttural—more like an animalistic growl than any man-made noise.

The pain of being split on Bucky’s cock was not bad—physically. But, God, why was this situation so fucked up? I wasn’t supposed to like it. Yet I could not deny that I felt the slick drip of my juices down my thighs.

I took a deep breath, centring myself so I could form some cohesive thought. Calm down. A natural reaction of the body is to protect itself from any harm. Deep breaths. Stay calm. This didn’t mean anything.

It didn’t take long to become somewhat accustomed to his intrusion inside me. And, as if psychic, he chose that moment to start moving his hips gently, pulling out and pushing in. It felt good—too good. My teeth sank into my lower lip and my fingers curled, scrambling for purchase on the wood top of their desk.

Bucky’s tentative jolts quickly turned into something more deliberate. One hand gripping my hip, the other—the metal one—cupping my belly again. His fingers pressed against my flesh, the bulge of him inside me appearing and disappearing with each thrust of his dick. He groaned, long and low and deep.

“Kitten, feel this,” he prompted, grasping my left hand and placing it on my belly. He secured my hand in place with his metal one, interlacing his fingers with mine.

It felt so strange, feeling him thrust inside me, feeling the shape of his cock enter and re-enter, feeling his metal hand clasping mine. It was intoxicatingly, perversely erotic and I couldn't help but moan.

My orgasm built slowly, so lost in pleasure that I missed Steve letting go of my arms, stepping away from us. But then I registered his presence somewhere behind me.

“Bucky, baby, lift your shirt. Give me a good show,” he rasped, breathy and tense.

Bucky grunted in annoyance, but straightened his posture, allowing Steve a full view of our bonding. Metal fingers retracted from mine, his hand moving from my belly. He told me to stay in place, his left hand mimicking his right and clamping over my hip.

My eyes flicked over my shoulder, catching sight of Steve shoving his jean under his ass, enough to free his cock, stroking it slowly and massaging his tip.

“I don’t think I can’t hold it any longer,” Bucky panted, fingers pulsing around my hips, digging into my skin, sure to leave bruises. “She’s too damn tight and so warm. Fuck, best pussy I’ve ever had.” His movements became more erratic, pushing my hips upward into a strange angle so that the brush of his pelvis assaulted my clit.

And, Goddamn it, if that wasn’t exactly what I needed. I came. Hard. With a silent scream on my lips, a deep guttural moan bubbling up behind it.

Bucky followed me into his climax moments later, the sensation of his warm spend spurting into me accompanied by the sudden heavy weight of his body. Our chests heaved with deep inhales of much-needed oxygen, our respective highs flushing through our systems. His breath brushed across my shoulder as he peppered small kisses everywhere he could reach. He buried his nose at the base of my hairline, whispering a small, breathless, “Hot bitch,” like a sweet nothing.

When he found his strength, Bucky pushed up to hover over me again. His cybernetic hand touched my throat, forcing my face to meet his. He bent to give me a chaste kiss, leaning his forehead gently against mine. His eyes closed, a content expression painting his features.

Absurdly, that felt more intimate than the sex itself. Just then, a thought sprang to mind—that was our first kiss. The whole time he never kissed me, only Steve. A confused intrigue fluttered in my belly.

“Bucky. Move.”

Reluctantly, Bucky let go of me, huffing in irritation at Steve’s impatience.

My limbs felt like jelly, Bucky’s cum running down my thighs in globs and I barely had the strength to hold myself up. But before I fell Steve caught me, swiftly flipping my body around and until my back met the table.

Sweat clung to my body, the exertion finally taking its toll. But in the end, I honestly didn’t care anymore. I knew what happened next and had no strength to fight it.

While Steve took his time, pulling off my shoes and removing my jeans, freeing me from the makeshift restraints, Bucky pulled up his jumpsuit and dragged a chair next to the table. His eyes remained locked on my form, as he adjusted his seat to find the perfect spot. He took my hand and intertwined our fingers again, resting our hands on the table next to my head.

My mind floated, lost in the foggy absurdity of the moment, when Steve suddenly grabbed my legs and dragged me closer. I squeaked—a pathetic sound—and scrambled for a hold on his biceps for some sort of security.

“My beautiful wild cat,” Steve purred, bending over me with a glint of dark lust in his eyes. “Now it’s time to love me.” He captured my lips with his, his cock splitting me open and hitting home.

So here I am—and this shit is definitely far from over. But when did I start calling them by their first name?

I've been a puppet, a pauper, a pirate, a poet, a pawn and a king

I've been up and down and over and out, and I know one thing

Each time I find myself laying flat on my face

I just pick myself up and get back in the race

[dottore-truther]

about me and this blog

Call me Myth or Nagi I use he/them pronouns and I’m in my early twenties I’ve been playing Genshin since it’s initial launch.

I’m Asian and indigenous. I speak/write English and Japanese. I use a translator for everything else.

I like the bad guys a lot in Genshin I just think they’re neat. I don’t condone what they do I just think they’re cool as characters.

I criticize Hoyoverse/Mihoyo because I know they can do better. I don’t condone Hoyo’s colorism nor do I spend actual money on this game. My criticism/venting at hoyo is tagged as #mhy critical and #hyv critical if you want to filter it out.

I like to speculate over possible lore and such I’m hyperfixating on Genshin Impact so blacklist #GI-info-dump if you don’t want to hear it.

I like to make edits of Genshin sprites and manga art and even do fan-art but I’m not sure I’ll post that here.

Game info:

playing through the Sumeru Quests. I haven’t been on Genshin since the 2.2 update tag my thoughts as: “#live Genshining”

C3 Kaeya, C4 Noelle and C4 Chongyun main AR: 55 Server: NA and DM for UID! This is a side blog so I cannot follow you back from here. If you want to talk about Genshin Impact or character/team comps DM me!

Boundaries and before you follow and such:

I’m an adult so if that makes you uncomfortable don’t follow me. I don’t post explicit content and I’m uncomfortable with it. I still prefer to talk to other adults.

I post a lot about villain characters, especially Dottore hence the URL. I don’t condone any of the character’s actions. Please no death threats

I don’t like works that includes with the following topics: dubious consent/non consensual, underage content, incest, very visible and prominent age gaps between characters.

[manthrochap-blog]

well well well. look who finally figured out what email he used for his old blog....

so, hi. the last post on this blog was from december 2016, so... i’d expect most of my followers are inactive and the few people i follow who are still active probably unfollowed ages ago, unless they never cleared out their accounts... but i thought i’d make a little post here as a sort of update and finally offer a means of contact

so. i’m freshly 23 years old now (jesus CHRIST). i’m not using this blog anymore, so i won’t be updating my bio/about/whatever to reflect that, but i’ll note i exclusively use he/him now. while homestuck is still constantly in my periphery (more literal than that sentence should be, there’s a dave strider vinyl figure in a bin almost within eyesight of my desk chair...) i haven’t really engaged with it in... years... other than a recent look at its unfinished japanese translation, seeing as i started learning the language a few years ago and got curious. i still stan aradia hardcore, btw, nothing in life will Ever change that

as you can probably (hopefully) predict from the fact that i was 17 when i last used this blog (and 13-16 when i used it actively) and i am now 23, this blog, uh... would not be a great reference point for determining what kind of person i am now. i won’t write it off as completely detached from my present identity, and i’m not saying this because there’s some sort of “dirt” you could dig up from looking through my posts (there... really isn’t, just a whole lot of cringe), i’d just like to make it clear that judging the present me by whatever the hell was wrong with me when i was a teenager would leave you with a lot of inaccuracies about me. being a teenager sucks and you’ve got way more things wrong with you mentally than any other stage of your life and i’m happy to report many of those things wrong with me have resolved themselves with time, but also, the cringe. the cringe. my god the cringe, please for the love of god know that while i am still cringe i am not as bad as i once was

anyways, what i am trying to communicate is that while the person who ran this blog and myself may technically inhabit the same body, we’re not quite the same person; and yet, this is still my body, my face, my words, my thoughts, all contained here, even if i no longer understand those thoughts and feelings and words, no longer feel like the face depicted is my face. going through and making every single one of my old posts unrebloggable would be not only tedious but a ridiculous, gargantuan task, considering my post count is just short of 50,000 and no matter how many of those are reblogs that i wouldn’t need to alter, it took long enough just deleting a bunch of old selfies that i truly don’t think it would be worth it

thus, my request is this: my art is all fair game, but any (old) personal posts or selfies i'd like left alone. no likes, no reblogs, just let them be, please. while i've left a good portion of the latter up for posterity, i'd prefer you not even look for them. likewise, i've gone through and deleted all instances of my deadname; do not try to seek it out. or i may smite you in real life

other than all of that, i'm willfully leaving this blog up as an archive. please don't abuse that, please respect my requests regarding what i am and am not okay with being interacted with, and please keep a healthy barrier in your mind between who i was as a teenager and my new, adult self, because even i don't know what i was going on about back then

with all of that finally out of the way, if you're looking to contact me for whatever reason, you'll find my new blog in my next (and probably final, ever, for this blog) reblog. that post is a plea for a friend of mine who i miss and have completely lost contact with to come and talk with me again, if they'd like, so i'm hoping that posting this here and giving them a way of contacting me might help if they ever come back and look at this blog, which was the impetus for me hunting down my own log-in info to begin with, though not the sole reason (i really did want to purge this fucking thing of its evils even if only a little i've been meaning to do that for ages)

i don't intend to ever deactivate that blog just as i won't be deactivating this one, but as a failsafe, you can also email nisutitja @ gmail, because i don't really wanna just... put my discord where everyone can see it. that is not my main email, but i do own that address. might be a little late on the response but it should be reliable enough

[engekihaikyuu]

Hyper Projection Engeki Haikyuu - The View from the Top 2

2.5D Interview Translation with Asuma Kousuke

======

Since the show “The Strongest Team,” it’s been about two and a half years since you last played Oikawa. How did you feel when your casting for this show was decided? I really didn’t think the day would come when I’d get to return to Engeki Haikyuu. So when my casting my was set, I was so incredibly happy. This time I will be the only one appearing from Aoba Johsai. So that makes me a little sad, and I also feel some pressure since I’m responsible for representing everyone from Aoba Johsai and I carry the weight of all of their emotions. That’s the main challenge I want to overcome.  

=====

Full interview and more photos under the Read More! Please do not repost my translations

Asuma-san, your debut was with Engeki Haikyuu. And now this will be your final time portraying Oikawa, so please give us an insight into your state of mind. I’m only here because of Engeki Haikyuu, so I really am very grateful. I’ve never been able to play the same character for this long, so it’s the character I’m most attached to, and I feel like I understand Oikawa better than anyone else. This is going to be the grand culmination of eleven shows, and I want to make it the best production yet, full of all of the emotions of everyone in the cast and crew. That’s the “Summit” that everyone in this company is aiming for, and I will be only one portion of that.  

Asuma-san, you will be the only one appearing from Aoba Johsai, so is there anything in particular you’re conscientious of?   Even with only Oikawa on the stage, I think the atmosphere changes. And because I will be alone, I want to be even more unrestrained in how I present Oikawa. Even at rehearsals, I want to be calling so much attention to Oikawa that even the director will stop me. (laughs) I haven’t been able to join the others at rehearsals yet, but I’ll be the only one there who’s been a part of this from the very beginning, so I think everyone will come to me with their questions. Like, “Show us how you did this in previous shows” or “Show us an example of how to do that.” Although I’m not sure I even could... (laughs) I’m sure there will be times when people tease me like, “That’s no good!” but if I can make rehearsals lively with that, I’m fine. Also in terms of age, I’m somewhere in the middle of the group, and this is my first time in that situation. Normally I’m always teased by my senpai, but since I’ve been here since the very first show and I’ve been able to see and experience a lot, I hope that I’ll be able to give some advice to others. 

Are there any parts of your personality that you think resemble Oikawa? A lot of people around me say that I'm like him, but I don’t really think so. At first I thought we might be similar, but as I’ve gotten deeper into this role, I’ve become less able to say that. Right now, I can only say that I respect him. Oikawa has this one line that I like, which goes, “Talent is something you make bloom, instinct is something you polish!!!” In this world, there aren’t that many people you can call prodigies. Oikawa rose to the top with hard work, and I think it’s just too cool that I got to say that line! Even when I rewatch that DVD, I often feel like, “Wow I got a really cool line...”   Even Iwa-chan says to him, “Even when you’ve become an old man, you probably won’t be happy. Even if you won some big tournament, you wouldn’t be completely satisfied, because you’re an annoying guy who’s going to chase volleyball for his entire life.” Oikawa loves volleyball, he’s obsessed with it, and I have nothing but respect for that.  

Do you normally rewatch the shows you’ve starred in? It is embarrassing, so I don’t often rewatch things. There are things where if I watched them now, I’d think, “Man I sucked.” But when it comes to “Winners and Losers” or “The Strongest Team,” those are different and I used to rewatch them often even back then. I think to myself, “I haven’t done any other plays that are this rough. So I can do this!” They’re encouraging that way. Also I’m good friends with everyone in those casts. The sense of teamwork and friendship is very strong.  

Speaking of your teammates, you spent a long time together with the Aoba Johsai cast. Please tell us about a time during a past tour when you felt strongly about your connection with them.   There are a lot of things I can only talk about now. Everyone was my senpai, but at the time, we would argue a lot. Because we didn’t want to give in to one another. For the duration of the tour, we agreed that we wouldn’t have that kind of pecking order, and that’s how we were able to create those shows. There’s a scene in “The Strongest Team” when Oikawa says, “Thank you for the past three years!!!”, and when I saw everyone’s faces in that moment, I couldn’t stop myself from bursting into tears. I was just so glad that we really had become such a great team by that point.

Within the entire Engeki Haikyuu series, please tell us what you think is Oikawa’s best scene. The first is the opening sequence for the very first show. Because I was good at the count, I deviated from it to do a little double peace sign. And also that’s my very first scene as an actor. At the time, I was really nervous about even doing that one jump, but I’ll never be able to forget the view while facing the front of that stage. We don’t have any lines there, but it’s a scene that I have a very strong emotional attachment to.   The other one is from “the Strongest Team” when Kyoutani gets over himself and really becomes part of Seijoh. Oikawa has continued to trust in Kyoutani, and he continues to grind that gear into place. The result is a unified Seijoh to oppose Karasuno. When I rewatched that moment on DVD, I have this really great smile on my face. I’d kept such a serious expression up to that point, so I really enjoy that shift in expression.  

Tell us something we should look forward to for this show’s Oikawa. I think fundamentally he’s the same as when he was a high school student, so I think the highlight will be to see the parts of him that have changed with age. There’s a lot that wasn’t portrayed in the manga, so I’m personally looking forward to seeing how I can craft those portions on my own on-stage. I’m going to be fairly conscious of my manner and behavior, not just my lines. It'd be great if I can show his difference in age with how I carry myself. I also want to polish my jump serve more. My jump serve right now is the high school version, so I want people to see the change in form and power.  

Earlier you mentioned the line, “Talent is something you make bloom, instinct is something you polish.” What are the things that you will continue to make bloom or polish from here on? Tell us your vision of yourself as an actor. I honestly don’t know if I have any real talents. But for now I’ve continued to get work in this field, so someday I’d like to be able find my specialties while focusing on the work in front of me. In the future I’d like to go overseas, so right now I’m studying English and Chinese. Haikyuu is very popular all over the world. Every time I’ve gone to some other country, there are many people who tell me, “I’ve seen Engeki Haikyuu!” Because I’ve been able to perform in a production that’s this beloved the world over, I’ve come to think that I need to go out into that world! After this, I would love to become an actor that can work all around the globe.  

And lastly, please give the fans a final, exuberant message   In times like these, I think that entertainment and the arts are absolutely necessary. I know there are many things to be depressed about, but that’s exactly why I want people to watch Engeki Haikyuu and then gain some motivation.  This is a production where you can absolutely feel the passion whether you see it in person or through a screen, so I want people to see it whether through an official stream or on DVD.   At last, we’ve reached the finale. Please support us to the very end!  

=====

You can read the original Japanese interview here: (x)

Please do not repost my translations!  This includes screenshots of bits and pieces taken out of context, especially if they don’t link back to this full post. If you appreciate the work I do for this blog and want to support my translation efforts please consider donating a ko-fi! (x)

[johaerys-writes]

Writing Tag Game

I was tagged by @noire-pandora @midnightprelude @mogwaei @serial-chillr @faerieavalon @pinkfadespirit @inquisitoracorn and @in-arlathan thank you so much! :)

How many works do you have on Ao3?

On my main Ao3 blog: 23! I also have a second blog where I post works set in the Dragon Age-inspired Modern AU I've been writing with @oftachancer , featuring my OC Tristan Trevelyan and her OC Aran Trevelyan, as well as a few others of our OCs. There are 5 works there at the moment. You can check them out here: jo_writes

What's your total Ao3 wordcount?

On my main blog, 516,722 words. On my second blog, 193,953 words, but the majority of it is co-written with @oftachancer .

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

High-Flying Birds: 589 kudos (TSOA)

Where Blood Roses Bloom: 467 kudos (Castlevania)

Winter's Fruit: 424 kudos (TSOA)

Like Friends Do: 410 kudos (TSOA)

Memories and Echoes: 327 kudos (TSOA)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Always!! I don't think there's a single comment I've ever received that I've left unanswered. I just love talking with my readers and screeching in my replies. I often wonder whether I come across as a tiny bit insane or overly enthusiastic, but you know what? I am both, so who cares 😂 I just appreciate every single person that has taken the time to read and comment on my works, and I want to make sure they know JUST HOW MUCH 

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

I honestly don't think that many of my stories have an angsty ending? Most of them end on a hopeful or at least bittersweet note, I think. I'm pretty sure the only ones I've written that have sad endings were those in my Hector/Carmilla series, You Always Hurt The Ones You Love (CV) which were kind of dark and depressing anyway. 

Playground Love, the fic I've written with @oftachancer featuring our OCs Tristan and Aran ends on an angsty note, but things do get better in the next installment, Never Let Me Go, so I suppose I am a little allergic to angsty endings XD

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

The Stars Will Guide Us Home (TSOA, Modern AU) has a super soft and fluffy ending, and Fall Into Your Tide (TSOA, Merman AU) will have a happy ending too.

Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you've written? 

I've written a Witcher/Dragon Age crossover, Viper In Tall Grass, where Tristan is a witcher and Dorian a Nilfgardian mage which I thoroughly enjoyed! Also, one of the first long fics I ever finished was a Witcher/Wheel of Time crossover, which I think is genuinely the most... imaginative thing I've written 😂 I never posted it and don't think I will, but I still love it to bits and I'm super proud of myself for writing it. 

Have you ever received hate on a fic? 

Kind of? It wasn't directed at me personally (I don't think) but at one of the main characters of the fic. Perhaps it was referring to the way I'd written the particular character, I truly can't say, it was a little vague. It takes a lot to offend me, but this really rubbed me the wrong way. I honestly think I would have been less offended if the person had criticised my writing rather than the character lol. I just don't take any shit when it comes to the characters I love. They're PERFECT, okay? How dare you come into my house and badmouth them 😂 RUDE

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Hell YEAH! I love writing smut, it's great. As to what kind, I think that porn with feelings describes it really well. The smut I write tends to get emotional real quick, even when I intended for it to be straight up porn, so I guess there's no hope for me, hah. 

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of. 

Have you ever had a fic translated? 

Yes, High-Flying Birds has been translated into Vietnamese.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes!! With oftachancer, two novel-length fics (Playground Love and Never Let Me Go), as well as a few other WIPs that haven't been posted yet, and I'm currently working on a multi-chap fic with my friendo @in-arlathan , featuring Dorian/Tristan and Solas with her Elenara Lavellan, which I'm so excited about! I've also brainstormed and goblined-out over a couple projects with @mogwaei !!  I love co-writing, it's so fun :)

What's your all time favourite ship?

Oooh, that's a tough one. I'm super biased in that the ships I love are those I write (both canon and OC pairings) but if you held a gun to my head and asked me to choose I would probably have to say... Dorian/Tristan and Achilles/Patroclus? AAH this is too hard ;w;

What's a WIP you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

I do plan on finishing all of the WIPs I am currently working on. I have a lot of writing ideas that I don't think I'll ever get around to, but when I actually start writing something I tend to commit till the end.

What are your writing strengths?

Descriptions, introspection and angsty/emotional scenes I think are my favourite things to write. I also enjoy writing fight scenes a little too much (and judging by the feedback I receive on them people seem to enjoy them too, heh). Lastly, I've been told that the characters I write are complex and fleshed out and that my pacing is good, and that's honestly the best praise for me.

What are you writing weaknesses?

I struggle quite a lot with self doubt and perfectionism. I worry a lot about how my work will be perceived and whether it's good enough. I often agonise over small details or paragraphs/sentences, to the point where I sometimes post just so I stop myself from going back and editing indefinitely. I have thousands upon thousands of words in deleted scenes because "they weren't quite right" or I changed a tiny bit and the rest didn't fit. So. You get the idea 😅 (Now, how I manage to read through everything multiple times before posting yet still get typos... welp)

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Hmm, I have to say that I do like it when there are foreign words interspersed through the narrative if the story isn't set in an English speaking world or if the characters speak a different language, but I'm not a huuuge fan of seeing a big chunk of dialogue in a foreign language without immediate translation or a hovering text. It kind of breaks the immersion for me and I tend to avoid it generally in my own writing.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Dragon Age, and specifically DAI! That game never gets old for me.

What's your favourite fic you've written?

It's impossible for me to pick just one so I'm going to cheat and choose a few. I absolutely love my current WIPs: High-Flying Birds, Where Blood Roses Bloom and A World With You, and the freaking epic-length fics I've written with @oftachancer . They haven't always been easy to write (especially AWWY, which has the most intricate plot & character development) but I'm so proud of them and I've learned so much while writing them. Of my finished stories, The Stars Will Guide Us Home is hands down one of my all time faves. It had been on my mind for several months before I actually wrote it, and I poured so much of my heart into it. I still get emotional when I go back to reread it, not gonna lie! Lastly, At The Water's Edge (TSOA) is very dear to me and I often go back for rereads. 

I'm tagging forth to (no pressure!): @fancytrinkets @elveny @glimmerofgold @asiriushoe @juliafied @boshtet-juggler @schattengerissen @dafan7711 @tessa1972 @fandomn00blr @pikapeppa and anyone else who would like to join!

[jardinsdeminuit]

Back from hiatus!

Technically, that should read ‘Back from the dead’, as I actually had no intention of remaking this blog when I deleted earlier in the year. But I really missed Tumblr and the friends I made here, so like a parasitic larva rising from the ooze on the bottom of a pond, I am coming back, hopefully for a little while longer this time.

Thank you so much to everyone who sent messages or supported me last time around. You guys are honestly amazing, and I wouldn’t have made the decision to come back were it not for all the kind and talented people I’ve interacted with over the past year or so.

Instead of writing a wall of text, I’ve decided to do an FAQ below the cut to answer a few potential questions and explain how this blog will operate from now on. Please have a read of it before following!

Why did you delete your blog last time?

Several reasons, most of them personal. Mainly, I wanted some time to clear my head and concentrate on other stuff in my life, and Tumblr was becoming a huge distraction for me.

Will you be reuploading your deleted fics/translations?

Last time I deleted several of my fics for personal reasons and because I wasn’t 100% happy with the quality of the writing in some areas. I’ll be reuploading them gradually over time and hopefully concluding a couple that I left unfinished. All of this will be hosted on AO3, as before. As for translations, I will be reuploading and finishing off the Carnelian Blood manga ASAP.

I can’t find X fic on your AO3. Where is it?

I plan to reupload 90% of the fics I deleted last time. If there’s something you can’t find, it either means a) I haven’t gotten around to reposting it or b) I have no intention to do so. While the support is really sweet, there are a couple of fics that I won’t be reuploading for personal reasons. This doesn’t mean that anything bad happened, just a decision I made.

Is this an NSFW blog?

Yes and no. While a lot of what I write is NSFW, everything is hosted on AO3. When I post a chapter here, the most I will include is a short SFW excerpt, tags and a link. I will never reblog explicit NSFW works (although some may be suggestive).

Your bio says 16+ only. Can I follow if I’m younger than this?

Tumblr is a 16+ website, so people younger than that shouldn’t be on here. That said, I do not run a strictly 18+ blog. I will not go into your blog and block you if you don’t have your age in your bio. The only exceptions are a) people I know are under 16 or b) minors who create/reblog NSFW material, as that makes me personally uncomfortable. Your Internet experience is your own to curate. Please be smart about it.

Is your ask box open?

Yes! You are more than welcome to send an ask either anonymously or with your blog. Just please stay respectful. I have an IP logger installed on this account, and any threats or hate will be forwarded to the relevant authorities along with the sender’s IP address. This is something I am absolutely serious about, and a route I know several other blogs are taking nowadays. Be safe and sensible on the Internet, guys.

Are writing requests open?

Please check my bio for the status of requests. To start with, I won’t be taking any, though that may change soon.

What’s your Genshin UID?

Feel free to DM me if you want to play together! I’m AR 55 on the EU server and looking to make more friends to play with, so go for it.

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Victor’s Exhibition Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

NOTE: @redqueen-hypothesis​​ did the translation for this! All I did was proofread and format! It’s on my blog because Red says so and I have to comply :<

[ This date was released in CN on 7 December 2020 ]

MC: According to the map, it should be… right ahead!

Victor: ...you don’t need to look at the map. Just watch where you’re going.

Victor: Turn at this corner and we’ll be there. There’s no need to keep looking at your phone.

A few days ago, when I was agonising over what television program to produce for the theme ‘Heart’s Whisper While Going into the New Year’, a notification about an exhibition popped up on my phone.

The exhibition hall next to New Light Mall was going to hold a ‘Speak Up’ exhibition. I saw a few recommendations for the exhibit, and thought that it was meaningful, and also felt that it was in line with the New Year atmosphere.

Since the opportunity presented itself, I quickly booked Victor’s Sunday afternoon.

MC: CEO Victor’s rare time off has been taken over by me to do overtime - do you have any complaints?

After hearing what I’ve said, Victor raises an eyebrow, a slight laugh escaping him.

Victor: What if I do?

MC: If that’s the case…

MC: Since I don’t think I could afford your overtime wages, how about I treat you to a cup of coffee later? I’ll look for the nearest cafe in the area…

When I lower my head to look at my phone, searching for a list of cafes in the vicinity, Victor lets out a sigh and grabs my hand, pulling me to turn a right at the corner.

MC: Ahh, the nearest cafe is located right outside the exhibition hall!

MC: Online reviews say that their croissants taste good. From the pictures they’ve posted… it seems to be true.

Victor: And here I was, thinking that you’d really come with the intention of figuring out the plan for your television program.

MC: I do intend to! But right now, I’m missing the… spark of inspiration.

MC: If the afternoon turns out to be fruitless, I’ll simply treat it as a day out! It’s not too bad.

MC: Besides, don’t you think the two of us have very few opportunities to look at these sorts of exhibitions together?

Victor: … yes, it’s my fault for being too busy.

MC: That’s not true. You already take out so much time to accompany me, and I always drag you to all sorts of noisy places.

MC: It’s time to let art nurture my soul, and help me attain a gentler disposition.

Victor’s hand, which had been holding mine earlier, slides down my palm, warm fingertips stroking the back of my hand gently, before lacing his fingers with mine.

Victor: Then, let’s go.

-

Cafe owner: So the both of you haven’t planned the overall route to view the exhibition?

The cafe is located right at the entrance. After securing the tickets to the exhibition, I pull Victor to the cafe first.

However, today’s exhibition hall seems a little deserted, and the cafe has very few customers.

The bespectacled middle-aged owner seems refined and gentle and is a good host. Before long, he’s already started a conversation with the two of us.

MC: Is the exhibition very big?

Cafe owner: There are three floors in total. If you browse every exhibit once, it should take quite a while.

Cafe owner: This is why many visitors choose a single floor to focus their attention on, and give less time to the other two.

When Victor takes his coffee, he nods politely at the cafe owner.

Victor: Do you have any recommendations?

Cafe owner: Haha, if you’re talking about recommendations, I’d suggest the second floor. It’s most popular with visitors, since the main theme of the floor is ‘Love’.

As the cafe owner says this, he places both hands on the bar counter and chuckles at the two of us.

Cafe owner: Stories on the second floor and those related to the exhibits are real. So instead of saying that you’re looking at the exhibits, it’s more of you looking at authentic stories.

I steal a glance at Victor.

Victor: It’s your choice.

MC: Then let’s go to the second floor first!

MC: Coincidentally, most of the exhibits I’m interested in happen to be on the second floor as well.

Happily, I pick up my latte and tuck the exhibition brochure into my bag, determined to explore the second floor.

Victor is one step ahead of me and pushes open the door of the cafe for both of us, giving the cafe owner a slight nod before we leave.

When I turn back to look behind me, he has already taken my hand, pulling me towards the second floor.

After stepping up the last flight of stairs, the large exhibition hall appears before my eyes.

It’s not at all like what I had expected. There aren’t any mundane objects put on display here such as handwritten letters or small gifts. Instead, these are real pieces of artwork.

All sorts of beautiful sculptures, paintings, and musical instruments have been set up. Even the lighting is so beautiful that if I were to use exquisite words to praise it, it would still sound modest.

MC: It really is an art exhibition…

Victor: There are a few works from some of the best artists of their time. You should be careful not to miss any of them.

Even though the silence in this large exhibition hall is only broken by the sound of our footsteps, one lighter and one heavier, the interior decor of the exhibit is very cozy, lacking the coldness that keeps one at bay.

Pure white stone pillars, warm yellow lights, the lack of the usual glass coverings separating exhibits, and every placard for each exhibit seems as though it’s been handwritten by the person who contributed it.

Walking between the exhibits, the feeling I get is one of warmth, and the volume that I had been suppressing since I walked into the exhibition hall steadily grows.

MC: Victor, look at this!

I take out my phone and snap a picture of the oil painting hanging on a wall.

MC: The placard says that the artist’s girlfriend is known as ‘Mouse’. So in every piece of artwork, there’s an adorable mouse subtly hidden somewhere.

After pressing down on the shutter, I look up once again to search the artwork for a little mouse.

MC: Wow, he’s really creative! The mouse in every piece looks completely different!

MC: This chubby little one looks really cute, this one seems really sharp and intelligent… they all suit the theme of each artwork. If you don’t look very carefully, it’s difficult to notice them, and they don’t ruin the art at all.

With a hand stuffed into his pocket, Victor lifts his eyes to stare at these paintings, a look of contemplation surfacing on his face.

Victor: This exhibit is called “Marks”.

MC: Yeah… it’s a title which lets others easily understand what it’s about.

Victor turns around to give me a low chuckle.

Victor: If that’s the case, tell me what you understand from it.

MC: Are you testing me again?

I think about this for a moment, then rush to stop him before he can tell me the answer, shaking my head.

MC: I’ll tell you my answer later! But first, come with me to see another exhibit!

I pull Victor along with me to the walkway, deeper into the exhibition, following my memory of the exhibition brochure I had looked at earlier, and come to a stop in front of several thick diaries.

MC: This exhibit is called ‘Today’s Weather’. It’s the exhibit I wanted to center my program around.

MC: These are the diaries of a woman who wrote down everything about her life for a full ten years. In these diaries, she often mentions “Mr A”, the person she likes very much.

Victor nods, flipping open one of the books silently.

Victor: From what I can see of her personality from her writings, she seems to be quite similar to you.

MC: Do you know what’s written on the last page of her diary? ...‘Congratulations on your marriage’.

MC: The “Mr A” she liked so much rejected her confessions several times, and he later moved overseas, causing them to lose contact with each other. The next time she heard of him, it was an announcement of his marriage, and that’s where her diary stopped.

Victor’s hand pauses in flipping a page, his expression slightly dumbfounded.

Victor: So what was the point of her writing this diary?

I look at the yellowing pages of the diary, and think back to what the brochure had mentioned about it.

MC: There was no reason.

MC: She later said that this was her true life story - a simple and calm one. During these ten years, she studied hard and moved to the city, becoming a person in charge, a manager, and then a director… and never once gave up on herself.

MC: Although the entrance test she took back then was exceptionally difficult, she persevered with the thought that the school was rather close to the high school Mr A had once studied at.

MC: She felt that by attending a school near to his, she could bring their lives closer together.

MC: There were no waves of joy or anguish - only trivial sentiments.

Even though there were some incidents which made her feel sad, from the cute and excitable way she described everything in her diary, she lived rather well despite feeling some regret.

However, after saying so much, Victor doesn’t respond. I walk to his side and tug on his sleeve.

MC: We’ve finished looking at this exhibit. Do you want to leave?

Victor: Since this is the exhibit you wanted to use for your program, shouldn’t you take a few more photos before leaving?

MC: I planned to, but I thought you might find it pointless.

Under his questioning gaze, I answer honestly.

MC: I’m sure in CEO Victor’s mind, there are many more important things going on every day… you wouldn’t be interested in trivial things such as romantic sentiments. And even then, you’d be able to understand them easily.

Victor gives a small laugh.

Victor: If I weren’t interested in such things, why would I be accompanying you here over the weekend?

He glances back at the diaries, his expression one of deep contemplation.

Victor: In truth, the same emotions can be felt by different people. I can understand her feelings.

I never thought Victor would answer in such a manner.

MC: Do you think that it was a waste of her time to write these diaries?

Victor: No.

Victor’s gaze rests on a page.

Victor: The writer wrote it down herself - “The time I spent loving someone, not a single second of it was wasted.”

I rarely hear such words leave Victor’s mouth, and it makes me feel a little surreal. In my memory, we very rarely talk about the topic of ‘love’. Maybe it’s because he rarely says what’s in his heart. Maybe it’s because I’m used to being thick-skinned. We never have the opportunity to seriously understand the meaning in these words.

When he looks at these exhibits, do we feel the same emotions?

I contemplate this for a moment, before looking at him once more.

Victor: What do you want to say?

MC: I was thinking about what you asked me earlier.

I take two steps towards him. Even though the distance between us is small, he doesn’t step backwards. Instead, he simply turns towards me.

MC: I think a love like this is very interesting. You meet a person and feel such emotions.

MC: From that day onwards, you’re never the same person again, and are completely changed. Like some sort of… mark.

MC: It’s a sort of mark that can be left in literature or in a photograph… and I can feel it.

Victor’s eyes are lowered. In his clear and tranquil eyes, there are ripples of light and shadows.

Victor: Such as?

The smile tugging at the corner of his mouth is clear, and I ponder this seriously.

MC: For example, the way I write proposals has changed.

MC: The format of my proposals has changed. The indent of the first line, font size 15, 1.5 spacing between lines... it’s the format you find most pleasing to the eye!

Victor’s eyebrow quirks.

Victor: That’s all?

MC: There’s more! I’ve become so much more picky with food. I never used to complain that food tastes bad, but eating at Souvenir has cultivated my palate. Now, when I eat even Michelin meals, I feel as if something’s lacking…

Victor smiles slightly and shakes his head, taking my hand.

Victor: Come with me.

In the innermost room of the exhibition floor on the second floor is a display board. On it depicts the entire process of how the exhibition first began and how it expanded.

Above all the pictures of the people who’ve helped to plan this exhibition…

MC: It’s the cafe owner from earlier!

Victor: You made preparations before coming here, yet couldn’t recognise him?

MC: I was saying that he seemed very familiar!

MC: If that’s the case… the story of this exhibition - it should be his, isn’t it?

He fell in love with a girl’s literature and art secretly in his youth, yet didn’t know how to confess, and much time passed without progress. When he finally mustered up his courage to confess, the girl passed away from cancer.

Those are all the words written on a whiteboard, and they seem a little simple and stereotypical. But when I think about how a person experienced this, my heart can’t help but feel sad for him.

Victor: That’s why the name of this exhibition is ‘Speak Up’. The existence of these marks is how these feelings are being conveyed.

MC: No matter whether it’s from a tiny mouse hidden in each artwork, the longing written down in a diary, or a sculpture carved in the image of their lover - all of them bear their own longing in some way. Even this exhibition is a voice for the cafe owner to speak up about his past regrets.

All these fragments come together in my mind, moving my heart.

MC: Victor, even though this is a little old-fashioned… if I want to make a program about entering the New Year and about this ‘Speak Up’ exhibition, will you reject my proposal?

Victor’s gaze sweeps over me, his brows smoothening.

Victor: I’ll decide after I see the quality of the proposal.

After we finish viewing the exhibition, cold rain and freezing wind come the moment we step out of the exhibition hall. It was so sunny earlier… Why is it raining all of a sudden?

Victor: I’ll get Goldman to pick us up.

MC: Huh? That’s not needed-

I pull out the tickets for the exhibition in my bag.

MC: I remember that the complimentary gift with this exhibition is an umbrella! All we need to do is exchange the tickets at the counter.

Victor casually takes the tickets from my hand.

Victor: Wait here for me.

MC: Alright.

While waiting, I glance over at the cafe and happen to see the cafe owner closing up his cafe for the day. He turns the sign from OPEN to CLOSE, before locking the door and dropping the key into his pocket.

This seems to be his usual, everyday life.

He notices my gaze on him and gives me a quick wave in greeting, before heading into the exhibition hall.

This world has many people who can’t say what is most important to them… but I’m different.

When I snap out of my thoughts, Victor is already heading back to me, umbrella in hand. In the dark and gloomy night, the lights of the street lamps flicker, silhouetting him in light and shadow as he walks slowly towards me.

I see tiny droplets of water clinging to his hair, the hazy light shining in his eyes.

The marks that I have must be conveyed in the most direct way.

MC: Victor, do you hear the music being played in the exhibition hall?

Victor doesn’t catch the underlying meaning in my tone, and instead begins to explain it to me.

Victor: It’s to alert the people in the exhibition hall that it’s about to close.

I can’t help but give him another hint.

MC: That’s all you thought about? You don’t find the music somewhat familiar?

Victor falls silent, his brow furrowed, as if he’s really thinking hard about this.

Not giving him a second more to think, I run ahead of him with small steps, wearing a smile as I turn back to extend my hand to him.

MC: Would this gentleman honour me with a dance?

Victor’s eyes widen slightly.

MC: The first time you taught me dancing was to this song.

The world around us is silent, and all I can hear is the wild beating of my own heart, pounding with anticipation.

MC: This is how you’ve given me marks of my own… and changed me.

Warm fingers brush my palm. Before I can register what’s happening, he’s already pulled me into his embrace. Along with the violin’s melody, I move my feet to dance with Victor, and the two of us turn in a circle fluidly. Even though night is quickly falling, everything before me is filled with shining light.

Joy blooms in my heart with a thump, like a resplendent firework soaring into the night sky, exchanging greetings with the sky full of starlight.

There are no words to describe the happiness I feel in this moment.

MC: What about you?

Victor: Me?

MC: Don’t you have anything to say to me? After this afternoon of visiting the exhibition, I thought it would have left some sort of impression on you.

Victor pauses in his footsteps, holding me a little tighter. The light and hurried rain droplets are blown over by the gentle wind. He tilts the umbrella, blocking the drizzle completely.

Victor: Dummy.

Raindrops patter down on the umbrella, paired with the sound of his low voice; it’s as if all surrounding noises have faded away to nothing, and he’s the only one who exists in the world.

Victor: Because a certain greedy cat always says she wants to eat something sweet after dinner, I made pudding before leaving the house.

Victor: Do you think this is a mark of how I’ve been changed?

[gatherround]

is this a hadestown blog? this is technically a hadestown blog, in the way that https://search.marginalia.nu/ is a search engine.

all of it? everything here relates to hadestown. loosely. allegedly.

why is this a hadestown blog? because i am interested (in alphabetical order) in borders, cyclical narratives, environmental justice, folk and other activist music, labor movements, meta commentaries on myth and folktale, migration, orpheus and eurydice, translation and adaptations, trainhopping, and theater, among other things, and anais mitchell was nice enough to put all of them into one show. it’s a very nice and large umbrella.

do I need to be into hadestown to enjoy this blog? it will increase your score on  I Can Identify The Connection To Hadestown bingo, but otherwise, no. if you don’t like the above list of interests though, you might not dig it.

will you explain how the posts connect to hadestown? sometimes but mostly no. i feel self conscious tagging things like labor movement history with thoughts on blorbeus from my folk operas.

will you explain if i ask? probably have a ramble ready to go but no promises. please ask away tho!

what if i only want to read posts with your commentary? then i want to kiss you on the mouth! also check out this tag.

is this a hadestown blog because you think hadestown is a perfect show? nope! in fact, i find many choices made with this show to be endlessly (and yet, productively) frustrating. a not insignificant portion of my engagement is with these limitations and frustrations and unrealized potential, so if you’re not into alla that critique you might not enjoy this. and at the same time, it’s managed to land precisely at the intersection of a bakers dozen of my interests, and so it’s largely a very useful umbrella upon which to dangle all these shiny things.

why don’t you like hadestown!hades? he’s henry ford, and henry ford can always get fucked.

is this blog 18+? this blog may have Grown Folks Stuff on here from time to time, and I do not keep up with tagging. if that works for you, then I’m happy to have you sit round this fire with me. if not, then shalom good bye and happy trails

what is your age / gender / location / religion / various other identities?  what are you, a cop?

tags? My tagging is very inconsistent, and i’m sorry to say i generally do not keep up with tagging for content warnings. I recognize that tagging for content warnings is incredibly useful, and I’m glad Tumblr is one of the only social media where you can curate your experience that way; that said, Tumblr is I place I come to repost things with my brain 80% off and I can’t promise to keep up with cw tagging with consistency & fidelity, so I’d rather not commit to something I can’t follow though on. if you need tags for certain triggers then please use your best judgement on if you’d like to follow this blog. I do have some tags I use (inconsistently) for various content / ideas though:

#poor boy working on a song: Orpheus / rad musician vibes

#poor boi working on a song: orpheus but make em queer / butch / trans / better

#a song to fix what’s wrong: the work of art in the world

#all alone your blood runs thin: solidarity babyyy

#this is the shape of a story

#make you see how the world could be: i haven’t actually used this in a while

#orpheus is a punk mood board: what it says on the tin 

#a suitcase full of summertime: solar punk ish

#our lady of the underground: persephone

#it’s a love song - love & orpheus/eurydice

#a tale of love from long ago - hades/persephone, love that’s been alive too long

#it’s a goldmine it’s a graveyard - haunted architecture, this place wants to kill you, etc

#we’re gonna sing it again - circular narrative, repeated narrative, time loop, help i’m stuck in a story and I can’t get out

#hot labor summer

#i remember fields of flowers

#how to put a crack in the wall

#advertisements for power

#why the winds have changed: climate change, climate chaos

#the house is the shape of a story and that story is shaped like a person