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ninehouses-if · 1 year

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Nine Houses

Demo (01/24/24)

Nine Houses represent the nine bloodlines that help keep the magic in order. Over time two houses seem to have been lost: making the remaining seven houses diligent in their duties. You are the scion to the Sixth House…or at least you were.

Your eldest sibling has been declared the scion. This was never supposed to have happened since their curse had always made them unsuitable for ruling the Sixth House. As far as you can tell that hasn’t changed yet now your life is adrift. People around you are acting differently and new people are showing up. Is everything related or are you just hoping to make some sense of what has happened?

There are different directions your life can take but do any of them appeal to you?

The story will focus on relationships, romantic or platonic, with a mystery element. Nine Houses is set in a world similar to our own but with magic.

Customize the main character in appearance and personality. How do they handle the change in their position? Do they help or hurt their sibling’s chances? Do they dive head first into a new mystery or do they want to hang back a bit?

Build Relationships. Befriend everyone, be a loner, or somewhere in between.

Romance one of five characters; Your (old) betrothed, the rival bloodline, the new boy/girl(s) in town, or the university researcher.

Choose which areas of life skills you focused on.

Pick a hobby to de-stress from everything around you.

Shinji/Shiori Kubo

The match was made with the understanding they would one day rule with the future Vicerex of the Sixth House. Now the question is if they want to stay with you or go with your elder sibling.

Marica/Matteo Milan

Your so-called cousin, even though the two of you aren’t related. They are from the next family in the line to rule the bloodline. They have spent many years in the north to gain traction and allies.

Rowan Cosra

A visitor from the main island who's here along with their twin. They seem to be the relaxed one of the two. They seem to be taking everything in stride and going along for the fun of it.

Aster Cosra

A visitor from the main island who's here along with their twin. They are the more stoic of the two. They seem to be going along with everything out of duty.

Nora/Niko Stavig

A university student who is studying the changes in magic. They are being hosted by different House Families. They have already spent the allocated time being hosted by your family, but they keep coming back.

_ - _ - _ - _ - _ - _-_ - _ - _ - _ - _ - _-_ - _ - _ - _ - _ -

The Demo includes the full prologue and was updated on 01/24/24

#interactive fiction #interactive novel #info post #if #nine houses if

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motions1ckness · 10 months

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hi 🙂 can you do roman roy x asexual fem reader where reader has a crush on roman (shaky hands blushy cheeks when he is close) and gardener in logan's house, so one day roman is walking in garden and hears her talking on the phone with her friend about how she doesnt want to have sex with anyone, and will never have children etc. And realizes she is just like him. Aaaand He starts talking to her...

ofc and i hope you enjoy!

content: ace!reader, f!reader, pining, fluff, mention of sex

Your mornings started with a 20-minute commute to manage Logan Roy’s garden. What the fuck does he know about flowers? To your surprise, a lot. Marica hired you as a gift for Logan. She told you his mother used to bring discounted bouquets home when he was a kid, so no pressure.

Today went on like the others, showing up at nine, and doing your job, except for the part where his kids stopped by. Fuck.

His youngest, Roman always caught your eye. Usually, you would be there for a few hours and be gone by noon, but now Roman was here. You tried prolonging your stay, now glad you began wearing summer dresses to combat the warmth.

Frankly, you've never spoken to any of Logan’s kids. They'd sometimes call out to you, or Roman would comment on Logan, “only hiring hot people.”

Before heading out, you phoned your roommate, who teases you because you casually walk into a billionaire's home every day.

They picked up within two rings “Hey, what’s up are you almost off yet? Or does the old man want you to be human furniture?” They say with a sarcastic tone. You laugh but also don't put it past the family.

“I’m about to go, it's just, you know his son? Roman, the one I keep telling you about?” You were slightly pacing, turning to peer inside, but it’s not like you could look in if you want to. Logan made it impossible for anyone to peek in.

The call caused Logan to notice you chatting and not working. He sent Roman to check on you, which caused him to feel Logan was punishing him by sending him outside. With a soft exhale, mixed with a groan, Roman headed towards the terrace.

“Oh? Should I break out candles? Pre-order a new mattress?” The other line egged on. You rolled your eyes at the comment, completely forgetting you were at work. The terrace was rather big. It wrapped around half the suite. Making Roman’s entrance undetected.

“Yeah, sure. But for real, It’s not like a sex thing. You know I’m not into that,” you slightly clear your throat, embarrassed by the thought someone would hear you from inside. Unbeknownst to you, Roman was listening to the conversation. When he heard you talking about sex, he panicked and moved toward the wall so you couldn’t see him. He thought it would be worse if you found out someone heard you. “It’s already bad enough it’s my boss's son.” That caught Roman’s attention, apart from him fearing you were talking about Kendall, but he couldn’t stop listening. Like a book he couldn’t put down.

“I think that makes it more fun. You know, sneaking around. But without the sex. Anyway, what was he wearing? I need more details than just his name and what the press says. C’mon, tell me who is the Roman Roy.” You liked how engaged your friend was, fearing opening up about your crush would end in humiliation.

“I don’t know what he’s wearing, I can’t see through the glass. But uh, I don’t know ‘the real Roman Roy'. I don’t interact with any of them. They’re all scary as shit, but I think it's time to head out. It’s fucking scalding.” Followed by exchanging goodbyes and looking up when the next train was going out.

Roman knew that conversation was about him, which made him nervous talking to you. It wasn't the first time you piqued his interest, how your wardrobe changed according to the weather, and how meticulous you get about the garden's appearance. You fascinated him. He also felt relief hearing you didn't want to sleep with him. Intimacy was his grey area, and he loved not feeling pressure to do it.

Roman waited a few seconds before emerging and speaking up, “Uh, my dad um, just wanted to know what you were doing out here,” Oh my god. He undoubtedly heard you. You wanted to curl up and die or resign out of embarrassment. Maybe he JUST got here, let's hope.

You turned to face him, feeling your face flush, “Oh, just heading out, looking when the next train is going out,” You put on a smile, hoping it makes you seem coy. It didn’t. Even if he didn’t overhear you, your face was beet red and your hands were slightly shaking.

“Well, I was about to head out, maybe, I can give you a ride? Or get a drink somewhere?” You could've sworn your face turned scarlet. Holy Shit. You stood in awe for a second, unable to fathom the words he spat out. “Um, y/n? Are you having a heat stroke or something?” He shields his eyes, feeling the heat against his skin, “He is a piece of shit for making you work out here, wow.”

You finally grasped what he said, “Y-yeah it’s actual hell out here, but going out sounds fun yeah.” You tried your best to sound easygoing after facing the worst embarrassment you've ever endured.

“Cool, uh, my driver is downstairs already,” he said in a merciful tone, gesturing for you to exit first.

The car ride was mostly silent. A few questions got thrown out asking about your job to ease the drive. The bar was incredibly upscale, feeling out of place arriving in your work clothes. Roman did his best to make you feel comfortable, he paid for the tab, and reserved a quiet area; he was trying to impress you. He asked about your life while you tried your best to pry about his.

“C’mon, tell me about something not so surface,” you paw at him, the two of you facing each other. You scanned his face as he took a sip of his drink, patiently waiting for his response.

He set the drink down, slightly smiling to himself because of the comeback he came up with, “So you could know ‘the real Roman Roy?’"

#roman roy #roman roy fanfic #roman roy x reader #roman roy x you #succession #succession fanfic #roman roy drabble #roman roy fluff

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saerins · 2 months

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omg hi! 😭 I’m back,😈 I was laughing myself off when I saw the chinga tu madre so here we go!

•Chinga tu madre is actually a Mexican idiom, chinga doesn‘t have an exact translation but it could be like “Fuck ur mom” (tu madre= ur mom) it is a way to insult ur mother or sent someone to the shit. The reason why you probably heard abt it b4 it’s bc it is the typical Mexican insult.

|-> in Hollywood they use mostly Mexican insults when they want to say that a character speaks Spanish (racist or xenophobic if u think lol) some examples are: Valeria Garza (Mexican) from call of duty, Gloria Delgado (Colombian) from Modern Family, Dora (Mexican) the explorer‼️ or Pablo Cavazos from BLLK who is Argentinian (the multicolor haired guy) ❤️‍🩹

• “Tu madre es loca/ tu madre es una loca” it is in fact that ur mother Is crazy 😭 for example, Eita could say to y/n: “La hijueputa (the slut) de tu mamá (of ur mother) está loca (is crazy)” which means her mother need to go to the psychiatrist urgently!!!🤓

So, today I’m going to teach how do we call the parts of ur body! 💋

•Pene: Its literally penis

/-> but we have better ways to call it. 😈🔥👌👈

•Polla- exact translation of cock! To the animal and also the deck 😍 fex: “La polla de Sae es tan grande”-“Sae’s cock it’s so big”.

•Berenjena, it’s literally the veggie🍆😭

•Pito- Argentinian one. Fex: “su pito era tan pequeño” - “his dick was so small”

•Chimbo- Colombian one. Fex: “Que chimbo tan grande”- “what a big dick”

•Vagina: Vagina, the difference is that in English u spell it like vayaina and in Spanish it’s like vahina.

/-> Coño: it’s like pussy, but u also can use it to swear. Fex: “Coño!” - “Fuck!” But if u wanna say that someone it’s a pussy the best option is “eres un marica” that it’s like “you’re a sissy”. Sexual example: “Sae hace que mi coño se ponga mojado” (me fr😍) “Sae makes my pussy wet”

/-> Concha: Cunt. Idk how we call it in English but concha it’s literally 🐚😭 “Sae me pone mojada la concha” “Sae makes my cunt wet”

That’s all for today! Also, the chapter was so good 😭I hope u recovered well from the cold or any illness u had also I wish u have a nice week!❤️‍🩹 if y’all have any other question just let me know ;) kisses for everyone!

-🍚

tw nsfw zone guys hahahaha

spanish lessons fr I READ YOUR TEACHINGS MORE RELIGIOUSLY THAN ANYTHING ELSE <3 you’re very knowledgeable about the usages too :’) there you go truck kun nonnie !!!

omg not you teaching us body parts now !! (i’m so ready for this) because i want sae’s berenjena <3 LA POLLA DE SAE ES TAN GRANDE YES YES YES <3 stop you’re making me a menace with these 😭 (but don’t stop) the pussy one !! me too nonnie !!! sae hace que mi coño se ponga mojado too 🤤🤤 sorry in advance if i say this wrong but - yn’s mother esta concha >:( it’s probably wrong but 😭😭😭

#and tysm nonnie !! hehe i recovered fine :) thanks to all of you for the blessings hahaha #smooching you <3 mwah #mail : 🍚 anon !

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eyeslikewatercoolers · 6 months

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WIP Wednesday- She's All That AU pt 3

After a little bit of an unintentional break (mental health & all that jazz), She's Going to Be Popular is coming back! Here's a look into chapter 3.

Marcia paced the living room floor for ten minutes, anxiously waiting for her sister to get home. Knowing little about doing hair and makeup, she asked Jan to come home from college to help her get Anetra ready for the party.

It wasn’t exactly cheating to use Jan to help, or at least that’s what she was hoping. It would just be family helping family if Luxx asked any questions.

Upon hearing the garage door open, they let out a sigh of relief. They walked into the mudroom to see Jan carrying a backpack and duffel bag full of clothes, trying to get through the hallway. “Thank God you are here. Why are you late?”

“I was helping Jackie study for her Economics test, but then you said this was urgent,” Jan explained as Marcia followed her into her old bedroom.

“It is urgent, she’s going to be here any minute!” Marcia peeked through the curtains to look at the driveway again.

Jan started unpacking her bags as she glanced at her sibling, “Helping you and your friend to go to a party isn’t really that urgent.”

“It’s urgent for me.” Marcia pointed out as they looked over the makeup and hair products that Jan had taken out and placed on the bed. Marica picked up a slightly larger box and read the label for cherry red hair dye. “Why do you have this?” she asked.

The older sister shrugged “Crystal said that it was too bright for her, so she gave it to me.”

“Isn’t that your friend that wears the overalls with little rainbows painted on them? She thought the red hair dye was too bright?” Marcia walked closer to the window to keep an eye outside.

“I think it’s because she’s trying to impress this girl that’s in our chemistry study group but Jackie says-” Jan was interrupted by Marcia’s sudden squeal of excitement.

Watching a pair of headlights pull into the driveway, Marcia quickly turned around “She’s here! I’ll go get the door.”

After about an hour and a half of hair and make-up, and another thirty minutes of finding a dress in Jan’s old closet that fit Anetra, time was getting close to leaving for the party. Marcia was pacing the living room again, waiting for Jan to bring out Anetra for a ‘grand reveal’.

At least she had the twins to keep her company this time, as they were patiently waiting on the couch. They arrived a few minutes earlier so that all four could go together to Kerri’s party.

“How long does it take to put on a stupid dress and heels?” Marcia asked out loud, turning on her heel.

“Zippers can be really confusing, maybe it’s that.” Sugar pointed out as Spice watched Marcia pace like she was watching a tennis match.

Marcia looked at the large wall clock and sighed, “They are taking forever. What is taking them so long?”

“I think we have a good reason for taking so long, Marsh.” Jan peeked around the corner, with a grin on her face.

Marcia turned to face the hallway, raising her eyebrows “Well?”

Jan stepped out to clear the entryway of the hall “Ladies, may I introduce the new, not improved, but different-”

“Jan, we don’t have the time for this!” Marcia raised their hands in impatience. “Just get her out here.”

“Fine.” Jan huffed like an annoyed teenager, and peaked back into the hall, waving to motion to come that way. “Come on, you look stunning!”

Slowly appearing from behind the wall she was hiding behind, Anetra absolutely did look stunning. The black sequined mini dress showed off her toned long legs with silver stilettos worked well as a nice complimenting outfit.

But what really shocked everyone was Anetra’s hair color. She now had dark red hair, curled into light beachy waves. Her striking brown eyes were no longer hidden behind glasses, her elongated features on full display.

Marcia felt completely shocked as she stared at her friend. She had no idea how much time passed until she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“I think Marcia might be broken.” Spice’s voice pulled her back into reality.

She cleared her throat before speaking, “Y-you look amazing.” she stuttered out.

Anetra looked at the decorative mirror on the wall, “Really? All she did was dye my hair and put makeup on me.” she said in a deadpan tone.

“But you’re hot now!” Sugar added, as her friends nodded in agreement.

“We should get going, Luxx says that the party is already starting,” Spice said, looking at her phone.

Marcia took Anetra’s car keys off the table and handed them to her, “Let’s show you off.”

#anarcia #rpdr fanfiction #my fics #wip wednesday #rpdr s15 #my writing

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enriquemzn262 · 1 year

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I wonder how terminally online twitterites would react to the knowledge that in many parts of Colombia, it’s socially acceptable to use marica (f-ggot) to refer to friends, similarly aged family and acquaintances, sort of like “bro” or “mate” in the English-speaking world.

Personally I don’t use it, but most of my friends and even my sister do.

(In the right context is still a swear word, and a strong one at that)

Also fun fact: Colombians are considered as the most foul-mouthed in all of Spanish-speaking LatAm, but only when angry.

#Colombia

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tofueggnoodles · 11 months

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Extreme Bath Log Disk 1 – Track 3: Genjo Family’s Evening

Click here to listen to the track on youtube.

Click here for translations of previous tracks.

Summary: Goku spent the evening playing video games with his friends from school, Tokito and Saito. Kubota arrived to fetch Tokito home and deliver a piece of news from the neighborhood association. The Genjo family discussed their participation in a local event meant to both celebrate Tanabata and revive the shopping district.

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(Music playing in the background. Someone knocks at the door.)

Goku (munching on something crunchy): Yes?

Saito: Excuse me! (slides the door open)

Goku: Oh, Mikawaya-chan!

Tokito: You came just at the right time, Sabu-chan!

Saito: I’m neither Mikawaya nor Sabu-chan! I’m Saito, the seventeen-year old handsome heir of Saito Liquor Store, Saito Kazuo!

Tokito: It’s probably because Mikawaya or Sabu-chan is a more likely name for a deliveryman for a liquor store [that we keep calling your those].

Goku: What is it, Saito? Are you done with work for today already?

Saito: When I arrived at the Genjo residence for my last delivery, I heard that you guys were hanging out on the second floor. I thought I’d come up and say hi. Oh! Isn’t this a new title from MGS? [MGS: Metal Gear Solid - thanks @hokuton-punch !]

Tokito: Have you gotten through this one too?

Saito: I’m in the midst of collecting the trophies. This is the second week.

Goku: Seriously? That’s just like you. Ah, how do I get past this field?

Saito: Okay, could you please call up the map?

Goku: Right.

(The gaming console emits a beep as he calls up the map.)

Saito: Here and here, there are some mercenaries standing guard. This here is the shortest route, but it’s easier to advance by taking a longer path and take down the enemies one by one in close quarters combat.

Tokito: See? That’s exactly what I said.

Goku: Eh? But I’m bad at taking cautious actions, even in video games.... Ah, I'll just give it a pass!

Tokito: Eh? Do I have to be the one to play through this part again? Also, I’ve told you not to touch the controller while eating potato chips, Goku. It’s sticky all over!

Goku: I don’t mind since it’s my controller. By the way, since Saito’s here, let’s play Bomberman or Marica. [https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/VideoGame/MaricaShinjitsuNoSekai]

Saito: Whichever game it is, I accept the challenge!

Tokito: Oh, you’re sure raring to go, Mikawaya!

Saito: It’s Saito!

--------

(Sounds of insects chirping.)

Goku (from upstairs): Ah! Who left a banana here?

Tokito: It was you.

Saito: I’ll go ahead of you guys, okay?

(Goku groans in frustration.)

Hakkai: Whenever Saito-kun joins in, it gets even livelier than usual. I hope they’re not disturbing Tenpou at his work.

Sanzo (slurps noisily at his tea): It’s a regular occurrence. He’s probably used to it after living here for many years.

(The doorbell chimes.)

Hakkai: Coming! Who is it?

Kubota: Hello. I’m from Kubota Laundry.

Hakkai (slides the door open): Ah, good evening Kubota-san.

Kubota: First of all, I’m here to hand these over: the empty food containers** and Mr. Genjo’s laundered clothes. [Kubota, Tokito and Tenpou address Sanzo as go-inkyo, lit. Mister Retiree, which does not sound as reverential as go-inkyo, so I decided to go with ‘Mr. Genjo.’]

Hakkai: Sorry for having you come here just to deliver them. I could’ve gone over to your place to retrieve them myself.

Kubota: It’s no trouble. I’m passing around these bulletins from the neighborhood association anyway, so I took the opportunity to stop by.

Hakkai: I appreciate your efforts. Tokito-kun’s upstairs, you know.

Kubota: Thanks for having him – he’s always visiting you. I hope he’s not too much of a nuisance. I’m also here to fetch him home. Tokito, it’s time to leave.

Tokito (from upstairs): Okay! Gimme a minute!

Hakkai: That’s right – the homepage that Tokito-kun made for us is amazingly popular. Sorry for having him do this without compensation.

Kubota: We’re in your debt too. The macaroni salad was very delicious. Those piquant black peppers really go well with beer. The two of us polished it off in an instant.

Hakkai: I’m glad to hear that. The salad is also popular among the members of this household.

(A door slides open upstairs.)

Goku: See you tomorrow.

Tokito: Yeah. (runs down the stairs) Sorry for the wait, Kubo-chan.

Kubota: We’ll be taking our leave then, Genjo-san,.

Tokito: See you!

Hakkai: Good night. (closes the door)

Hakkai (to himself): Genjo-san, eh? At any rate, ‘Genjo Hakkai’ sounds considerably pretentious as a name. Well, at least it’s far from being as odd-sounding as ‘Genjo Gojyo.’

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(Gojyo sneezes. In the background, there are sounds of water being splashed and dribbling down the floor.)

Gojyo: Really. Why are all the customers middle-aged men and old geezers whenever it’s my turn to man the attendant’s booth? Even if the changing room is not visible from here, at least the sight of some beautiful women in after-bath yukata would cheer me up. [yukata: light cotton kimono worn in the summer or used as a bathrobe]

(A bell rings as the door slides open.)

Gojyo: Ah, welcome– oh, it’s just the old man from the grocery store.

Old man: So the eldest son’s manning the attendant's booth today. Looks like you’ve been putting in a decent amount of work recently. Here’s the key for safekeeping. (walks away after putting the key to his locker on the counter)

Gojyo: What a let down.

--------

Goku: Ah, it’s hot! A cold drink of milk is best after a bath! Eh? Are you going out, Gojyo?

Gojyo: After a full day of working, I now have to leave for my part-time job. (yawns)

Sanzo: Those were all easy stuff, so don’t let them get the best of you.

Hakkai: Ah, since everyone’s gathered here, could I have a bit of you time? There’s something I’d like to consult you regarding the bathhouse.

Goku: Consult?

Sanzo: Did something happen?

Hakkai: No, it’s not that. A short while ago, bulletins announcing the outcome of the neighborhood association meeting has been circulated. Here’s our copy. (places a piece of paper on the table)

Gojyo: Mmm, what’s this? ‘Araiso Shopping District?’

Sanzo (reads from the bulletin): ‘Tanabata Festival: Decision on the Event to Hold?’ [https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tanabata]

Goku: Eh, so they’re going to organize a festival.

Hakkai: Even though they say it’s a festival, rather than food stalls at the temple or all-night folk dances, apparently the event they’re going to hold is a three-day stamp rally throughout the shopping district. [https://en.japantravel.com/guide/introduction-to-stamp-rallies/46627]

Gojyo: What’s that?

Hakkai: Ever since a large-scale shopping center opened in front of the train station, the businesses in this shopping district have been having a tough time in various ways. They’ve been talking for a while about holding such a community-based event to earnestly promote the shopping district and regain the customers.

Goku: Let me see.... (reads from the bulletin) ‘During the three days of the event, each shop in the shopping district is to provide the customers with original free services or freebies associated with Tanabata.’

Sanzo (continues reading): ‘Regarding items associated with Tanabata, foodstuffs, novelty mahjong score sheets **, games or events – anything is fine.’ Hah. That’s an awfully sloppy description.

Hakkai: That’s because the chairperson of the neighborhood association is fairly sloppy person herself.

Goku: The chairperson is that person, right? Granny Sharak, grandpa’s senior who runs the long-established Japanese-style confectionery store?

Gojyo: If you call her Granny to her face, you’ll get a hundred energetic lashes from that wild old woman.

Hakkai: Our bathhouse is quite a long-established business among the shops in this shopping district, so we’ll have to participate in this event. Father can’t afford to make Sharak-san lose face as well.

Sanzo: That woman’s harshly made me accompany her on her rounds of heavy drinking since the old days.

Gojyo: But, we’re running a bathhouse. What sort of Tanabata-related service should we offer?

Hakkai: That’s what I’d like to get everyone’s advice on.

Goku: Hm-mm.... how about setting up some bamboos by the bathtubs? [for the customers to hang colorful pieces of paper on, after writing their wishes for the year on those pieces of paper]

Gojyo: If those sharp leaves were to become loose and fall, they’d cover the whole surface of the water and no-one would be able to move in the bath.

Sanzo: The customers would probably be pleased – if they were pandas.

Hakkai: Decorating the interior of the bathhouse is a good idea by itself... hmm, but exposing the customers’ bare skin to bamboo leaves in the bathhouse is a bit risky.

Goku: Then, since we’re running a bathhouse, how about handing out hot spring steamed buns? [onsen-manju: buns stuffed with azuki-bean paste sold in towns and resorts of hot springs]

Hakkai: Wouldn’t it be a false representation to call those ‘hot spring steamed buns?’ [since the Genjo bathhouse does not use a hot spring as their water source.]

Gojyo: Would anyone be delighted to eat steamed buns right after coming out of the bath?

Sanzo: They would be, at least somewhat.

Gojyo: Damn old geezers with a sweet tooth should just keep their mouths shut.

Sanzo: Keep my mouth shut, you say? I’m the owner of this bathhouse, you good-for-nothing!

Gojyo: You're one to talk! Haven’t you gone into retirement a long time ago and left the running of the bathhouse completely to Hakkai?

Sanzo: Hah?

Gojyo: What is it? Bring it on!

Goku: Jeez, what are you guys doing? Stop fighting and think seriously over this Tanabata event!

Hakkai: Goku has really become dependable, hasn’t he? For the time being, since we need to report what we plan to do for the Tanabata event to the neighborhood association in one week’s time, let’s come up with something until then. The two of you, please lend your support for a bit as well, okay?

Gojyo: Yeah, yeah, I got it.

Sanzo: Hmmph.

Hakkai: Well then, I need to get back to work. Please be careful when putting out the fire**, Father. [I listened to this for a few times before concluding that in Hakkai’s absence, Sanzo probably has a tendency to set things on fire when lighting up a cigarette or something....]

Goku (sounding excited): Tanabata Festival, huh? I’m sure looking forward to it....

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(Round brackets): actions and sound effects. [Square brackets]: translator’s notes or clarifications. Double asterisks **: Stuff I am not sure with. Suggestions for improvements and corrections are more than welcome.

#wild adapter #bus gamer #最湯記 #最遊記 #saiyuki drama cd #saiyuki #translation

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applesap-fics · 1 year

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Snake Oil

Part one

FABril day 3 - Alternative Universe, llaneros/cowboy AU, also on ao3

Rated M

It was from doña Pilar’s girls that Bruno heard about the concoction first.

Before entering the narrow but bedecked house with its many rooms, he took the chanclas from his belt and placed them over his bare feet. The hostess didn’t like how dirty the llaneros were that frequented her establishment and, though the scathing words of a matriarch felt bizarrely comforting, Bruno wasn’t in for a scolding. Her Andalusian floors were her proud possession, and she did not like the indignity of their feet on them.

What mess her patrons made in the rooms with her girls was par for the course. Though, to their credit, the worn men also didn’t mind getting the llanos grime scrubbed off of them by nice gentle hands after going so long without a female touch.

Bruno wouldn’t know about any of that.

(When Bruno was a teenager and had just started to come along on treks, the older boys had played a prank on him. It had been some sort of initiation: now that Bruno was old enough to come on the arduous journeys with the other cowboys he was regarded as a man, and to celebrate they’d send him off to the girls to get rid of his virginity, thinking they were doing him a favor.

When the lady had slipped off her chemise and exposed every inch of her naked body to him, she had not looked one bit comforting and familiar like his mother and sisters and he’d promptly become sick. She had laughed him out of her room, and he’d stumbled out of the brothel to the playful jeers of the men, who assumed he’d gone through with bedding her if it left him that shaken after spending such short time with the woman. His manhood presumed intact. It was better than if they called him a marica, which was true.)

The next time he entered a brothel to keep up appearances, it was with his hood up, flicking a match, eyes glowing green, and he announced himself with the mystique of a street magician:

“My dear ladies, I’ve come from far and wide to show you miracles. You will think your eyes are deceiving you. You will think I am making it all up, deceiving you with tricks and devilry. But rest assured, the news I bring will change your lives: your future awaits.”

Bruno had a gift, one he didn’t like to waste, but one he couldn’t afford to share freely either, worried about who might take advantage of it in the lawless plains. Some of the Guzmán farmhands knew about it, but like the secret valley that hid them from warfare, it was sworn to secrecy. Whenever they stopped in towns instead of the isolated haciendas on the plains, Bruno offered his services to those who might need it.

The men in the courtyard cooed with women in their laps, a breast in hand. They paid Bruno no mind as he made his way through silks and laughter and up the stairs to the upper deck where there was a tad more privacy. The rooms next to him were occupied, but whatever stranger was in there likely wouldn’t care to listen in.

He took a seat at a table behind the banisters. He laid out his pouch with sand, lit the candle that was already there, and let interested ladies come to him.

The girls here liked the security of his visions. They thanked him with hard eyes when he saw bad things instead of fortunate ones, already used to ‘inevitabilities’. He warned them about harm they were certain they could expect, affirming their own suspicions with his magic. That way they could prepare for their sorrows, have something to hold onto. And whenever the visions were vague, which was often, it gave them hope to escape the cruelties the prophet had seen for them.

Not all of his predictions were bad, though; sometimes he spoke of their children or how well off their families would be generations down the line. Or, more pressingly, where abuelita had hidden her sacks of family jewels.

After he waited for a moment, a group of women joined him at his table and were eagerly listening in on what he had to say without any propriety for each other’s privacy. They had shawls and shrouds draped over their bare shoulders as if they could catch colds from their futures. Their thick perfumes clogged his nose and reminded him a little of Pepa, though she was much more conservative with her make-up. Bruno thought the ladies looked magnificent all dressed up in fabrics and face paints. Immediately inspired, he made a mental note to restock on his own colors if the pulperías in town sold them this nice.

He emptied his pouch with sand on a cloth he'd draped over the table. His ruana hid most of the fierce glow of his eyes as he got to work.

To the relief of the girl sitting opposite him, the baby she was carrying was prophesied to be a healthy boy. She smiled, rubbing the slight bump of her belly. “Makes his life easier.”

Bruno, also a boy, troubled by many things, wasn’t too sure about that. But as he took her downtrodden clothes and the fact that the baby had no father into consideration, he supposed she would know better. The two other women immediately reassured her and gave advice, and otherwise had much to bring in about the matter, chattering away.

Bruno interjected by politely pointing his finger up. “Now, as for my payment…”

The girl eyed him, assessing her peice. Bruno had not much use for money, being a horse wrangling Madrigal. He always asked for a funny trinket or valuable information if his client could not afford to spend any currency on him, which he’d learned not to deny for their dignity. He didn’t mind this unequal exchange.

The girl leaned over to caress the back of his hand, exposing the depth of her breast that Bruno modestly tried to avoid, and gave him a coy cock of her head. “My room is right there, señor.”

Bruno flinched and stammered, but before he could say something through his nervous grin, an older woman scolded her. “Rosa, puta, he’s obviously a maricón. Don’t you think he would’ve shown us a different little miracle first?”

“Oh, woah,” Bruno muttered at her harsh words. “Maybe I’m just nice?”

“Oh, sure, that too.” The woman brushed a curl away from his face, letting the glint of his earring catch in the candlelight, and performatively dropped a few tokens on the table for him.

“Ohh. But in that case,” the girl drawled, and soon dragged the two other women into a conversation about their little wisdoms and products. She put up two fingers to illustrate their point to Bruno. “Makes it so much easier.”

Pleasurably enlightened, Bruno parted with the women, leaving a shard of his emerald tablet in the girl Rosa's care. There were emerald mines nearby; having a castaway gem was a luxury, but not implausible. For fear that this put a target on the recipient’s head, he didn't do this often, but he felt for the girl and her bastard child.

What he should have remembered, as he strode through the courtyard and spoke openly about visions near occupied rooms, was that this business was visitor to all sorts of men. Travelers, llaneros, miners, locals. Not all of them were as absentminded when they made love to women.

Least of all when a prophet doled out jewels.

#encanto #bruno madrigal #encanto fanfics #was gonna tag w fabshipping but the boys arent here yet #fabril

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latinocas · 2 years

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In Latam (and Spain) there's a way of being a "serious gay" or just some "marica" (one of the most common slurs for gay people in Spanish).

If you act like your assigned gender at birth and you follow all the social rules of a macho real man or a pretty woman, and if you erase any traits of your homosexuality in front of others, you're a serious gay. That means, your family tolerates your existence even if they condemn it.

If you're anything else, you're a marica. A marimacha (slur for lesbians), or one of the variations.

And believe me when I tell you, queer people are one of the most common jokes in Latine families. Especially those who are not serious gays.

⠀

And guess what? Being queer is already bad enough, but if on top of that you're a junkie? Nothing you'll ever say will matter. You've lost all your credibility, because you "lost your way" or are doing things "just for rebellion" or for "trend". What would they care about what an addict says or feels or think?

At least if you were an alcoholic, you'd be a man.

⠀

It's not funny to be a junkie and be Latine, it's not a comedy. Even less in the 70's, because if you make some research, the 1900s mean for many countries in Latam dictatorships. Communism, the radical type. Extreme right governments. Some governments even took the drugs into the poorest communities to deal with them quickly and choke any sort of rebellion.

In other words, it means death and torture.

It means I still cry thinking of the stories my grandma told in hushing tones over her queer friends. Over the ones who neve returned or were tortured or had to hide forever to avoid it.

⠀

And all we get in return is to be the stereotypical drug dealers in movies. The junkies. The funny queers. The people with funny accents and funny food and funny family stories.

You can be Latine and queer and a junkie and there's nothing wrong with it, nothing wrong with the person. But there's a freaking context Americans can't ignore, because they are simply not allowed to laugh at the misery they helped push over us.

#Cw drug mentions #Cw colonialism #Cw slurs #drugs cw #Long post

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dirhwangdaseul-archived · 2 years

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my assessment of the whole slur thing is that the misunderstanding of reclamation and the inherent antiblackness of it is at the center of it but it also piles up with this desire by misguided kids and adults as well whose interaction with the "community" has been either short lived or non existant outside of online spaces that they perceive to be replacement of like irl interactions because idk how else to explain that they keep trying to draw these very clear lines about the history of words about who gets to use them as if it came with like being gay and like its really never been sth organized in the way that a political history might draw it as these tightly knitted groups that always agreed on everything like how could you think that when dyke fag marica puto lencha etc have been used against bisexual and trans people no matter the gender consistently as well as any other fucking slur is interchangeable when it really comes down to putting us down and then there's terfs and then there's white bitches always putting whiteness and comfort and capital over a "community" like idk how there's so fucking much time for the right words for every single thing when like community has never meant just words it's like action, it's alive, it changes and its supposed to recognize its actual history like what reality are these kids living in when they can say stupid shit like wlw can't say the words used against them or the ones that historically have also identified them because they fucking wished for it and at the same time say that queer has been successfully reclaimed when people from the fucking community specially elders have said that it makes them uncomfortable like do these kids just don't think anyone older than them exists with maybe literature to read like wtf is the internet for if these kids come as stupid as we did when running away from home at 16 and crashing into the nearest gay place everybody talked abut in whispers like progress where progress where if they keep trying to draw nonsensical lines about things that have always felt so cruelly ephemeral and that we must cherish or else no one will, families get made and they break and some others get to be reunited and others face endless violence and others get chances and still don't get to succeed and people still come and go like tell me in what world does it make for a static community whose lines cannot be redrawn to give space for more people to come and go in the hopes they grow like idk what im saying im like so fucking tired of idiotic takes that don't appreciate the nuance of the life given specially when it comes to the infinite ways lgbteeeeees have found to express ourselves in the world like fuck the gift of being seen should mean more openness more attention to the history of where we came and what fucking multiple meanings can be derived from sth yes even violence that for our time in this earth is still what most people will get like that should be space for more kindness more listening god....

#el suco posts #long post

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pharaorising · 13 days

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Totenreich V

Part IV

Ich schrie die Namen meiner Familie, doch sie wurden nicht wieder lebendig. Ich schrie und tobte und weinte. Jeder der vorbei kam wurde Zeuge meines Verlusts, doch es machte mir nichts aus. Sie sollten ruhig mitbekommen, wie sehr ich litt. Wie sehr ich diese Menschen geliebt hatte.

Weil ich nichts dabei hatte, mit denen ich ein Grab schaufeln konnte, grub ich es mit meinen eigenen Händen und mit Ästen und Rinde, die ich von den umliegenden Laubbäumen abmachte. Ich grub so lange, bis ich sie zusammen in der Erde verscharren konnte. Ich hatte nicht mal mehr den unendlichen Korb, den ich ihnen als Grabbeigabe hätte mitgeben können. Dass ich im Reich des Todes war und sie eigentlich nicht hätten sterben dürfen, hatte ich bereits vergessen. Es spielte auch keine Rolle, denn die Knochen die ich sah, das waren sie. Lebendig geworden für einen letzten wundervollen Nachmittag. Ein Nachmittag, der mir zu Lebzeiten so nicht vergönnt gewesen war.

Als ich die Erde über ihren Gebeinen aufgehäuft hatte, schleppte ich mich weiter. Alles war egal geworden. Der süße Geschmack des Weines lag schal auf meiner Zunge und nicht einmal Wasser schien ihn vertreiben zu wollen. In meinem Bauch lagen Steine so schwer, dass ich nur noch gebeugt laufen konnte. Meine Schultern hingen herab, aus mir war auch der letzte Wille für immer zu leben gewichen. Ich wollte diese Ewigkeit nicht, wenn ich sie nicht mit meiner Familie haben konnte. Der Familie, für die ich alles getan hätte. Vielleicht hätte ich sie nur mehr lieben sollen, damit sie für immer an meiner Seite hätten bleiben können.

Doch das hatte ich nicht und jetzt musste ich mit den Konsequenzen leben.

“Du bist ein Narr.” Die Stimme war kalt, doch in mir entbrannte ein Feuer so hell und heiß, dass es mich drohte zu verschlingen, als ich zum Übeltäter dieser Worte herumfuhr. “Neitha.” Ich stieß diesen Namen aus, als würde seine Existenzs mich schon zum Würgen bringen. Doch Neitha war so schön wie eh und je. Vielleicht schöner. Und als sie nun die Lippen zu einem zynischen Lächeln verzog, kam mir die Galle hoch.

“Willst du das näher erläutern, oder soll ich aufzählen, in welchen Lebenslagen ich ein Narr war? Dich in mein Leben zu lassen, steht sehr weit oben.”

Meine Hände waren zu Fäusten geballt und zum ersten Mal seit langem bemerkte ich meine Umgebung. Ich war nicht länger in einem Wald, sondern in der Unendlichkeit einer Wüste voll Sand. Und Neitha stand auf einer Düne in einem Gewand einer Königin gleich. Ihre Haut war bemalt mit Mustern, die so kompliziert waren, dass ich mich jedes Mal gefragt hatte, wie sie diese jeden Tag aufs Neue so präzise hatte auf ihre Haut auftragen können. Immerhin, so sagte sie, sollte die Welt wissen, ob ein Pharao seine Königin berührte und am Ende eines jeden Tages war die Farbe auf meine Finger übergegangen. Ich verabscheute mich in diesem Moment dafür.

“Mich zu heiraten war das Beste, was dir hätte passieren können. Durch mich wurdest du zu dem Mann, der du sein solltest. Marica hätte dich nur aufgehalten.” - “Sag ihren Namen nicht!” Ich war über ihr, noch bevor ich wusste, wie mir geschah. Ich hatte die Hände an ihre Schultern gelegt und drückte sie in den heißen Sand der Wüste, während sie einen Dolch an meine Kehle hielt. “Das nennt man wohl einen Patt”, erwiderte sie und das Grinsen wurde zu der Fratze eines Schakals. Hinterhältig und abgrundtief hässlich. “Habe ich dir nicht viele Kinder geschenkt, die allesamt in deinem Namen weiter herrschen können? Die die Welt zu einem besseren Ort machen werden?” Ich spürte, wie das Messer mir ins Fleisch schnitt und ein Rinnsal aus Blut floss über meine Haut, doch ich gab meine Position nicht auf, drückte mich sogar gegen die Klinge, nur um ihr noch etwas näher zu kommen, damit sie die Verachtung auch in meinen Augen lesen konnte.

“Du meinst die Kinder, die ich umgebracht habe?”

Der Schlag saß. Sie hatte nicht gewusst, dass ihre Schößlinge tot waren und wenn ich einmal ehrlich war, dann sollte ich vielleicht erwähnen, dass ich es nicht geschafft hatte sie alle zu töten. Der letzte von ihnen, Tarun, hatte es schließlich geschafft mich mit meinen eigenen Waffen zu schlagen. Wenn er es schaffte, dann würde er vielleicht einmal ein so großer Pharao werden, wie ich es in den wenigen Jahren meines Lebens gewesen war.

“Du lügst.” Ein letzter, verzweifelter Versuch, ihre Kinder weiterhin lebendig zu halten. Die Kinder zumindest, die nicht auf ihre Kappe gingen. Immerhin waren es ihre Kinder gewesen, die Zuversicht, dass sie mit ihnen und ihren Genen unsterblich geworden war, die sie am Totenbett hatte lächeln lassen. Sie hatte ihre Krallen in die Welt der Lebenden geschlagen und würde die Ewigkeit überdauern. Es war ihr einziger Wunsch gewesen.

Den ich nun zerstörte.

Nun war ich es, der grinste. “Sie sind alle tot und sie haben nicht einmal deinen Namen genannt, als sie starben.” Es war mir ein inneres Blumenpflücken, als ich sah, was ich mit meinen Worten anrichtete. Es war wundervoll. Es war befriedigend nach dem Verlust, den ich zum zweiten Mal in meinem Leben hatte durchleben müssen.

Die Klinge sank, als ihr klar wurde, dass ich sie nicht anlog. Sie sah nicht die Lüge. Sah nicht den einzig lebenden Nachkommen, den sie noch hatte. Vielleicht war ihr in den Jahren seit sie tot war nicht vergönnt gewesen, ihre Kinder zu sehen und jetzt traf sie auf mich.

Es geschah ihr ganz recht. Für alles, was sie mir angetan hatte.

Dennoch ließ ich sie los. Sie umzubringen, im Reich der Toten, war ein dummes Unterfangen. Außerdem würde es mir mehr Freude bereiten, wenn sie hier verrottete mit dem Gedanken, dass ihr Plan nicht aufgegangen war.

Aber der Erfolg schmeckte bitter auf der Zunge. So sehr ich mich auch freute, er schmeckte bitter. Also ließ ich gänzlich von ihr ab, bevor die Berührung ihrer Haut mir zuwider wurde und setzte mich stattdessen neben sie in den Sand.

“Hast du mich überhaupt je geliebt?”

Die Frage war schneller von meinen Lippen, als ich darüber hätte nachdenken können, doch das hier war mein Leidensweg und es war mir egal, ob sie ihren Frieden fand oder nicht. Doch Neitha antwortete nicht und so musste ich, wohl oder übel, zu ihr blicken.

Sie hatte sich eingekugelt, den Dolch fest in ihren Händen, während sie ins Leere starrte. “Ach komm, stell dich nicht so an. Der Tod ist dir auf jeden Schritt gefolgt! Freu dich doch. Wenn du sie findest, dann kannst du vielleicht noch mal ihre Gesichter sehen.” Doch eine Sache konnte ich mir dabei nicht verkneifen, denn natürlich wusste ich, wie ihre Kinder zu ihr gestanden hatten und doch hatte ich all meine Wut an ihnen ausgelassen. Dennoch setzte ich hinzu: “Falls sie dich sehen wollen.”

So schnell wie sie über mir war, konnte ich nicht reagieren. Plötzlich war ich es, der in den heißen Sand gedrückt wurde, eine Klinge direkt über meinem Herzen. Der Ausdruck in ihren Augen war wild. Eine Mischung aus Wut und Schmerz. Die wohl schlimmste Mischung, die man empfinden konnte.

“Halt die Klappe, oder ich bring dich um!”

Mein Lachen brachte sie aus dem Konzept. So wie ich manches Mal vergaß, wo ich mich befand und dass um mich herum noch mehr Seelen wandelten, so wusste ich in diesem Moment ganz genau, was Sache war. “Ich bin schon tot, du alte Giftnudel!” Doch das schien ihre Wut nur noch mehr anzufachen. Neitha bleckte die Zähne und verunstaltete damit ihr hübsches Gesicht. “Du weißt gar nichts, Teremun! Das hier ist erst der Anfang. Es wäre eine Gnade, dich hier und jetzt umzubringen.”

Ich konnte spüren, wie die Klinge die Haut über meinem Herzen verletzte, spürte heißes Blut, wie es sich einen Weg über meinen Brustkorb suchte und war doch zu sehr verwirrt, um es wirklich und wahrhaftig zu realisieren. “Das hier ist das Reich der Toten, Neitha. Hier kann man nicht einfach weggehen.”

Dieses Mal war sie es, die lachte. Doch es lag keinerlei Freude darin nur eine Bitterkeit von der ich begriff, dass es das war, was sie in ihrem Leben angetrieben hatte. “Du kannst hier genauso sterben, wie in der Welt der Menschen. Nur das hier viel größere Albträume darauf warten dich zu verschlingen.”

Mit einem Mal war die Klinge von meiner Brust verschwunden.

“Du willst wissen, ob ich dich geliebt habe? Niemand konnte dich so sehr lieben, wie du dich selbst, Teremun. Ich brauchte dich auch nicht zu lieben. Meine Schönheit hat dir doch ausgereicht, bis du mich Stück für Stück vergiftet hast. Noch am Totenbett wollte ich es nicht Wahr haben, dann fragten sie mich an der Pforte hier her, wie ich gestorben war und wusste es! Wusste, dass du Gift unter mein Essen gemischt hast. Kleine Dosen, über Monate hinweg und du hast dich daran bereichert, dass ich immer schwächer und kränker wurde. Kein Essen wurde mir gereicht, dass nicht zuvor durch deine Hände gegangen war. Bist du stolz darauf? Wie ich gelitten habe? Wie ich immer noch Leide?”

Für einen Moment konnte ich die Krankheit durch ihre Schönheit hindurch blitzen sehen. Als würde es sie viel Kraft kosten nicht mehr krank zu sein. Vielleicht hatte ich mehr getan, als nur ihren Körper zu vergiften. Vielleicht aber hat sie sich durch ihre Gier auch selbst vergiftet.

“Du hast noch viel Schlimmeres verdient, Neitha. Nur wegen dir sind sie tot.”

Mit einem grimmigen Lächeln erhob sie sich, steckte den Dolch in eine Scheide an ihrer Hüfte und betrachtete mich eingehend. “Viel Spaß im Reich der Toten, Teremun. Mögen die Götter dir über den Weg laufen. Dann wirst du wissen, wozu du mich verdammt hast. Wozu du dich selbst verdammt hast. Meine Klinge wäre ein Akt der Gnade gewesen. So sehr habe ich dich geliebt. Doch diese Gnade hast du nicht verdient.”

Und mit diesen Worten ging sie davon. Es war das letzte Mal, dass ich Neitha sehen sollte.

#「7 ⸻ 𝚆𝚁𝙸𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶 𓆣

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