#WHY HAS THE WORD GOON BEEN DEFILED LIKE THIS

[ehnrat]

when i say a word bc it sounds fun and my friend goes "WHAT DID YOU SAY ??!!! AHAHA, GO LOOK UP THAT WORD LMAO" and then i do and—

#I DON'T KNOW THINGS LMAOO #WHY HAS THE WORD GOON BEEN DEFILED LIKE THIS #WHO ELSE KNEW THIS AND HEARD ME SAY THINGS AND DON'T TELL ME WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA #i just be saying shit #ehn misc

[hazem4y]

✰ 𝖳𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇 ✰ | 𝗜𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗶𝗮𝗻 𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗲𝗿

𝗖 𝗛 𝗔 𝗣 𝗧 𝗘 𝗥 𝗢 𝗡 𝗘 - 𝖨𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗒 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗋𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗆𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗎𝖻𝗅𝖾.

Summary:  Delilah, a girl whom grew up around crime , has an unlikely run-through with the infamous Belgian reporter, Tintin. Being assigned to lead him astray from her bosses drug cartel, she ponders everything she's grown around; wondering if she can break free from her filthy past and her unsavoury 'habits.'

Featuring greasy, gelled-up mafia bosses and the small, quaint Italian coast/countryside, this book has everything a stereotypical Mafia book has, with some classic elements from Hérge's 'Tintin!'

Warnings: Mild drug references (Opiates,) Gun reference in like, one sentence. 

Taglist: @another-her​ @cc-bitz​ @ofmarlinspike​ @augustinremi @cheesecake-crisis (If you want out or in please let me know !!)

Wattpad link here!!

Please show your support by notes n’ reblogs !! I’m so sorry, I’m vv insecure about my writing and need re-assurance 24/7 :,)))

...

"Increased use of Opiates in Belgium concerns citizens!"

The recent spike of opium usage has concerned locals as the increase of drug usage had been theorised to link to the increase of crime. Authorities say it may be due to an unknown criminal organisation, which has thought to be terrorising citizens and forcing authorities to enforce curfew rules, which in turn has enraged regulars of Belgium night life, and caused major profit cuts to clubs, bars and other places frequented at night.

"These damn curfew rules are costing me euros, and making me lose valuable customers!" Says local bar-owner, Hugo.

Other night-life goers have commented on their evident dislike of the curfew, although many elderly citizens have been thankful for the new rules; as it ensures the 'safety of each and every citizen from this awful drug craze.' Quotes Police-man, Thompson. (Which is not to be confused with his relative, Thomson.)

So far, the said organisation leaders have not been caught, nor identified, and Police investigations have failed to gather a lead on the case. Reporter, Tintin, famous for finding Red Rackham's Treasure and busting Salaad's drug cartel, has made no comment on the current situation, and has yet to reach out for further investigation.

...

"An increase in Opiate usage linked to crime? What an Interesting coincidence, isn't it?" The White, wiry-haired mutt yapped in reply, as the Ginger-haired boy pondered the article; Hand on his chin, his eyebrows knitted together causing his forehead to crease,

The young reporter thought for awhile longer, until he made a connection to prior events, re-animating his frown in a cartoon-esque manner, "Why, It's- just like when we busted...Allan and his goons!"

A cup of bitter-sweet tea on a weekend shopping trip with the familiar chill of Brussels wind was quite a juxtaposition to the rush of travelling countries for the next story. Even though they satisfied the boys wanderlust, Tintin enjoyed the quiet interludes from his adventures. But, once more, it had to be interrupted by some interloper.

"I guess our little break will have to be cut short! So soon too..."

...

"It seems our little 'scheme' has made its way into the papers..." A tall, buff figure sitting at the head of the table declared. The scars on his face were highlighted under the fluorine lights as well as the unsightly manner his face was scrunched in; his expression emitting his enraged state.

"Do you realise what this means?" He paused, abruptly throwing himself off his chair, jabbing a calloused finger into the page, "This means that nosy reporter and his friends will interfere quite soon..."

'Find him, befriend him, kill him-Whatever you need to do! Just bring him to us, dead or alive...Then maybe, we could do something about your past.'

...

Delilah stretched her limbs, letting out a long-winded yawn as her gaze stayed fixed on the ginger-haired figure; his eyes fixed on the Sunday paper in his hands, "Nothin' so far..." She muttered, the tapping of her pencil on her note-pad filled with words acting like a white-noise along with the regular chatter that filled the room.

With no means of entertainment, (Although Delilah enjoyed people-watching, sometimes her patience ran thin.) she skimmed through her pages of notes, which recorded any important information.

"Alright boy, I think it's time we head to the market. Maybe we'll see the Thom(p)sons like last time!"

Welp, that was her cue.

Judging by the hefty crowd walking around the cobbled streets, it was the perfect time to make her escape. She threw on a well-loved hat and coat, and slung a leather messenger bag on her shoulder, before slipping away; her body clad in well-worn items, her beige-hued Trench-coat and a patterned Paperboy hat inconspicuous against the males pushing her against the flow of the crowd.

...

Every so often, every Sunday morning, the town square's grey-coloured cobble is filled up with the colourful hues of the shopkeep's canopy tents; the square being filled with various people, the familiar banter of negotiation, and smells of fresh produce and food. Somewhere in the throng of coats and hats, (that protected the wearers from the frigid weather.) the infamous reporter stood, examining a shopkeep's repertoire of Bric-a-Brac,

"The markets sure are busier than usual!" His voice raised slightly over the blaring chatter. 'Twas like nobody knew of personal space; Each man arm to arm, shunning the impatient who shoved the bodies aside. As boot-clad feet came in contact with the stone, the white canine beside Tintin let out a yelp; as a foot trampled on his stubby tail.

The perpetrators eyes were wide in offence, mouth open ready to sling curses at the sound, "W-why you bone-headed nimrod, watch where you're-"

With all the ruckus happening near-by, the quiff-haired boy turned around, expression melded into one of pleasant surprise, "Captain!"

The boy's voice seemed to catch the individuals attention, prompting them to turn around, "Aye-Tintin?! Pleasant surprise seeing you, lad! 'Specially here-I mean, I never see you doing any sort of leisure!"

"Actually..." He paused. Nothing good would come of a crowd like this, "I-just decided to enjoy such leisure time! By doing some...'Sunday shopping.'" He winked, his hand slipping out of his coat pocket to hand the captain a slightly crinkled and haphazardly torn article.

The captain let out a long 'Oh' as he shoved the paper back into his pocket, picking up their 'casual' conversation, "Well, I hope you find something interesting-There's a lot of ol' treasures 'round these parts y'know."

"I hope I do too! I wonder if we'll run into Thompson and Thomson..." A smug smirk crept on his face as they continued to converse in their 'secret language.' Time seemed to lose track of itself as the duo slung words towards each other-

Actually, is seemed as if the entire market halted action; Silence rolling across the crowd.

A shrill, blood-curdling scream. Hang on, A scream?

The extreme vocal strain seemed to trigger the crowd into a panic, the hushed chatter and shifting eyes of the crowd attempting to stay alert of danger.

The reporter attempted to stand on the tip of his toes to gain leverage over his height, but the crowd smothered any chance for a look of the conflict, "Do you have any clue what's going on? I can't see-"

He squinted as he leaned on the gentlemen next to him, earning some unsavoury looks, "Hang on I-Thundering Typhoons!"

As convenient as it was, the crowd sort of parted a second, it seems as if everyone wanted to watch the conflict; and nobody was going to help?

This time the dispute was clear to Tintin, causing great discomfort and anger to surge through his tiny frame.

The male, his appearance displaying outwardly his feelings of anger, began to dash towards the trouble, his person a blur "Take care of Snowy and watch for my whereabouts," He ceased for a second, chucking a handgun that was previously concealed in his pocket to Captain Haddock's general direction, "And take this-!"

...

Author's Section.

Hello !! Welcome to the First chapter of my story !! This took me awhile to write, as I was working out the best format so that your experience will flow well. I wanted the transitions from chapter and scene to be as smooth as a fountain pen on paper, so I hope you all enjoy.

As the synopsis says, this story will include elements from every stereotypical mafia movie, plus classic elements from Hèrge's ' Tintin.'

I'm not going to spill much but there will also might be a little bit of romantic elements. Nothing that distracts from the wonderful plot, of course, that would make me a terrible writer, but just some wholesome stuff. (We will not be sinning, because I am not defiling my childhood-)

Anyhow, I hope you stay with me and this series !! (And I hope I can finish it too...)

Be warned, quality goes down from here...I feel like I did terrible on the other chapters but that's just me...

I also might change the story name too, I’m taking recommendations as well! I don’t know what to name it...

Much love,

-Hayleigh

#tintin #les adventures de tintin #the adventures of tintin #fanfiction #fanfic #tintin fanfiction #tintin fanfic #tintinxoc #original character #tintinxoriginalcharacter #original story #original plot #series #slow burn #enemies to friends to lovers #👀

[jaegertango]

Contract

I return to Tumblr after almost two years because fuck learning how to do Ao3 and Twitter puts me in a rancid mood. Have some OC writing with a goblin.

Quel'thalas, home of the High Elves, was a region of legendary beauty and stupendous magics. Its radiant forests and mana-filled skies made it a haven to all spellcasters, as well as made sure every child of the Quel'dorei bore the boon of magical prowess. Being such an effervescent garden of study and bastion of delight made it most of everyone in Azeroth's number one wish to visit – but it was not so easy to travel towards. The High Elves, massively proud of their homeland, were also infamous for their xenophobia, and barred all outsiders from “defiling” their blessed region and taking what was theirs. Not one member of the Alliance, traveler of the Horde, even splendorous mages from Dalaran, were allowed passage to the golden land. For many years, only a scant few outsiders were given permission to enter the borders of Quel'thalas, and even fewer returned back from those woods.

And their xenophobic ways only grew more paranoid after the assault of the Scourge.

Arthas' crusade to the Sunwell, the crown gem and source of power for the Quel'dorei, had left the capital of Silvermoon and much of Quel'thalas in ruin. Their eternal font of magic had been corrupted into an amalgamation, capable only of poison, and the city had been sundered into two razed sides. Most of the Quel'dorei perished horrendously, only to be brought back as wretched shadows of their former selves, seeking only to appease their baser instincts. Only in the recent years, with the arrival of the Alliance and Horde banding together against the greater evils of the Scourge and Legion, could the newly dubbed Sin'dorei – the Blood Elves - attempt to heal their devastated lands and rebuild their ruined city. Despite their fears of outsiders, they demanded help, desperate for even the aid of “barbarians” to return themselves to their former glory once more.

“Mister” Jashuo Blasternut knew better, but he also understood their plight. As he sat in his Shredder, the Goblin was amazed at the sheer magnificence of the city of Silvermoon. He had seen plenty of tall buildings before in his time, but never could he have expected the spires of the Quel'dorei to lance the heavens so proudly, nor enjoy the tidy stone of the streets. Gadgetzan prided itself on its own technology and access to buildings made of metal and stone over wood and mud, but in comparison to how Silvermoon stood, he would've been breathless – were it not for the literal black scar ripped into the capital of utopia. It was the most obscene comparison, as the pilot gazed from extravagant splendor in the shapes of gold, scarlet and emerald – to a twisted artwork of unholy soil and desecrated treasure. It was almost laughable how obvious the comparison was: Jashuo could see a Magister walking in his silk robes of glorious azure, promptly ignoring the wicked burn lashes scorched into the streets not far from his right. Rather than try to admit that their city had been sacked, they instead hid away in what remained of the city, and refused to look at what had been destroyed. Perhaps it was too traumatizing, or perhaps it was an eyesore; perhaps it was both. Mister Blasternut would've understood either one, but that was why he was there: to make sure that Silvermoon City got the supplies it needed to repair itself.

So he waited on the streets in his Shredder, which was continuously coughing out smoke from its double exhausts thickly. Combined with the meaty grumble of its engine, every single Blood Elf in the city was giving Jashuo a wide berth. He definitely stood out among all of the glitz and glamour, and they refused to give such an obnoxious blemish to their amazing city. The Goblin frankly didn't care, though he was annoyed that they weren't giving his crisp suit the time of day. He dressed up for this! The least that the Sin'dorei could do was accept that he was there to help them and not “embarrass” them. At the same time though, it didn't matter. All that did matter was that his contact showed up and recognized that he was there to plot this contract with them properly. Being a benefactor still demanded the proper respect, and the pilot could only hope that the pride of a noble would not get in the way. It certainly would not be the first time...

Eventually though, he was greeted with a small contingent of Sin'dorei riding upon their daintily-decorated hawkstriders. The only reason that Mister Blasternut recognized them from any other clique of elves was due to them walking straight *at* him, definitely showing that they recognized his presence. The Goblin counted five of them – four guards surrounding a fifth. Too many for him to fight; rather, too many for him to fight and get out alive. His Shredder was equipped with enough state-of-the-art weaponry and thick armor to get him out of (and into) any scrap comfortably, but fighting five well-trained Mages would take too much time for him to make a victorious escape. At the same time, this was making the Goblin somewhat nervous: he had neglected to hire any goons himself. The Blood Elves might have been affiliated with the Horde, but he had a hard time trusting uneven numbers. Regardless, he was there to do a job, and all he could hope was that these Sin'dorei weren't trigger happy. Keeping his sidearm pistol tucked into the back of his pants, Jashuo smoothed out the front of his suit and tie, swept his brown hair back and adjusted his aviator glasses. With an easy step, he moved forward to make the drop from his Shredder-

-only to hastily dart to the right as a fireball exploded a foot in front of him. Even if he hadn't made the dodge, the sparks wouldn't have touched him, but the Goblin still yelped and made the effort to move away.

“Not another step, greenskin!” One of the guards growled, his staff held aloft. “Where you stand is already close enough to the Magistrix.”

“Close eno-  I'm twenty feet away!” Jashuo hissed, his hand behind his back in a clumsy attempt to snatch at his hidden weapon. He was unable to do so, and now it was obvious that he was reaching for something without actually drawing it. This only made the Sin'dorei more irked, and the other three were now drawing their respective staves and swords. With every second, the Goblin was highly regretting this meeting: these guys were thirstier for blood than Orcs!

“Perhaps once you've tossed away your weapon, we can assume you can be closer,” the first spoke again, his gaze tempered on Mister Blasternut. The woman in the middle merely sat silent, her eyes clearly concerned as she leered at Jashuo. It was not an argument that the Goblin wanted to lose, but he didn't have much of a choice. If it got bad, all he could hope for now was to scramble back to his Shredder before he got too ablaze. Surely they wouldn't do something so brazen though, right? Despite his instinct demanding that he not be that stupid, Jashuo once more paid them no heed, sighing as he pulled out the pistol and set it onto the ground. He held his hands up, trying to pass off his face as stoic, but he could feel his brows knitting together.

“Ya know, ya ain't makin' the best first 'mpression here!” He retorted back, flipping his hands back and forth to show he had nothing in his sleeves either. “I'm just a businessman here!”

The captain of the guard scoffed, but nonetheless nodded as he looked towards the Magistrix. She nodded in turn and began to dismount, her guardians following suit and forming up around her. While they all wore the garb of Spellbreakers, clad in intricate platemail, their lady wore a brilliant yellow dress definitely not for combat's usage. The fabric fluttered and glittered in any ray of light that touched it, giving it an ethereal appearance like that of the sun. She wore a mask in the shape of a phoenix's beak, but Jashuo could easily recognize she was a woman. Her hair was long and brown, a definite mane of well-kept locks in comparison to the Goblin's scruff. The two could not have been more different, the Blood Elf's tall and graceful to Jashuo's short and sleazy.

“Pray forgive the aggression,” she spoke in a polite, but curt tone, keeping her hands folded in front of her. “It is hard for anyone to trust outsiders, especially after our Ranger-General has seemingly returned from the dead.”

“...Seemingly?” Mister Blasternut grunted, and was luckily able to bite back any more sarcasm he had. He didn't need to give these Sin'dorei any more ammo to use on him. “I'm guessin' you're uh... Lady D'anthius then?”

“Indeed – and you hadn't even butchered the name! Consider me impressed,” the Lady D'anthius spoke, and even though she claimed it a compliment, the Goblin was somewhat annoyed at her words. Her tone could have sounded as pleasant as she wanted: it did not change the toxin her words meant.

“Yeah yeah yeah, I'm honored. Let's cut to the chase: you need metal for your city, aye?” Jashuo grunted, folding his arms over his chest. His bluntness seemed to take the Magistrix aback, for she visibly recoiled and responded quickly.

“Yes well I... ahem,” the woman spoke, and instantly the Goblin knew something was wrong. Those three words, combined with how she cleared her throat, wasn't like her previous tone. It sounded unsure and hasty, as if quickly being taken off-guard. Mister Blasternut was oh-so familiar with such a state of being, and even that cough was reminiscent of the many times he had to clear his head to properly talk. Yet, what most astounded him was how natural it sounded, as if the Lady's voice had only just started to make its arrival. When she spoke again though, it was with that same level volume and politeness.

“Indeed. The Scourge brought forth nightmares that have devastated our homes and left our people divided – but not broken,” she spoke firmly, keeping her eyes on Jashuo. “To that end, we need only the supply to return our people to grandeur once more.”

That tone returned, and the Goblin wasn't sure what to make of it. Now that he heard it again, something about her voice didn't sound correct. The words made sense, and they were definitely admirable, but now her tone sounded wrong. The Goblin kept quiet for a handful of seconds, trying to process what he could make of her statement to no avail. Maybe he was just overthinking it.

“Right... so metal for buildings and weapons and all that. Well, bulk's what I specialize in, so ya came to the right Goblin,” Jashuo replied finally, looking towards the destruction of the city to his left. “So uh... how much are we lookin' to buy here then?”

“Buy...?” the woman murmured blankly, though she instantly lit herself up to try and hide that question. “Oh! Well, that is what the contract is for, pray tell!”

There it was again. That tone of voice. It was striking the pilot in such a bizarre way that he couldn't put his finger on. Despite Lady D'anthius having spoke three times the amount of words in that “usual” tone of voice, hearing these other words was ringing in Jashuo's mind. Something was “off” about this woman, like she was putting on a different face and attitude. For some reason, this was gnashing hard against the Goblin, strongly enough that it was only when one of the guards cleared his throat that the pilot finally realized what the Magistrix had said.

“Aye, contract – y'know. Usually has cash to it. Ya are plannin' to pay for this, right?” Jashuo grunted, unable to stop himself from being somewhat snarky towards the Blood Elf as he raised an eyebrow at her. However, despite his own aggression, the woman nodded easily, and motioned for one of her protectors.

“Indeed! This legally-binding contract will confirm that, in exchange for your goods and partnership, Silvermoon shall pay you warmly for your services. The parchment requires only your signature!” Lady D'anthius spoke up as the guardian walked towards the Goblin with a roll of paper and a quill. After reaching upward quite a bit to actually snatch the contract, Jashuo unfurled it, and instantly heard a murmur through the Sin'dorei. He ignored it, quickly scanning the document.

“Er... that is to say, at the bottom,” the Magistrix continued, and it was only when she spoke that the Goblin looked up curiously at the group. They quickly silenced, and it was because of that sudden quiet that Mister Blasternut felt the disturbance in persona once more. This time though, he could see flashes of concern in all of their faces, namely the protectors, and a cruel thought entered his mind. Did they not think he was going to read it?... or did they not think he knew how?

“...Seems all in order,” Jashuo answered lamely, and he could feel a plan forming in his head as he read more of the contract. Any of his former cowardice was quickly being melted out in favor of spite. If there was any way to give him the bravery to do something, it was entirely out of implication that he couldn't. He raised the quill to sign, and now that he was more aware, could sense the tension as thick as the smog belching from his Shredder.

“Yannow, actually...,” the Goblin spoke up as the quill touched the paper, and he looked up just in time to see one of the protectors inhale slightly. Instantly, that reaction made it worth being shot at. “I gotta quick question here, Lady D'anthius.”

“You... do?” She asked, at first trying to keep up that air of significance, but quickly deteriorating back into that gentler tone. Now there was no denying that false attitude, and it brought a genuine grin to Jashuo's face, full of shining, sharp teeth.

“Ayup! Ya'see, I ain't just a goblin of fortune here – I do what I do for a good cause, ya'hear me?” He spoke idly, gauging their reactions curiously. Lady D'anthius seemed unsure of what to make of him right now, but seemed to be agreeing with his words.  “When I heard that I could be helpin' rebuild one of the greatest empires ever been 'round Azeroth, I knew what I had to do, see?”

“...Indeed?” The woman replied uncertainly, that fake tone trying to return, but the smugness of the guardians already coming back in full force. She seemed to be catching on that Jashuo was plotting something. He had to admire her thinking so quickly on her feet.

“Aye! So I'm here to help, I'm even here to take you tryin' to hose me with this cheap payment of a 'contract.' But here's the thing, Lady D'anthius,” Jashuo continued idly, then coldly insulted just quickly enough for him to segue into the next part of his explanation. The guardians instantly looked angered at the statement, but the Magistrix kept steady, seeming to predict the Goblin's tone as he kept talking.

“I ain't here to bullshit ya, so I'll make ya a deal. I'll leave ya this supply as goodwill, not a gold piece charged! But it ain't gonna be 'nough to fix even a tenth of what's busted here, or any of that crap I had to pass just gettin' here!” Mister Blasternut stated firmly, his bespectacled gaze now burning into Lady D'anthius' mask. “So I'll be here next week, with more metal for what ya need, and if ya play ya cards right, ya'll be back here next week with an actual contract that assumes I'll read it. I ain't here to bullshit, babe, so ya better not bullshit me back. 'Cause ya should know the first rule of business, Lady D'anthius:”

Jashuo took off his shades, his crimson eyes boiling into the Magistrix's mask as he leered at her.

“If we don't see eye-to-eye, there ain't even a copper to be made here outta yer Silvermoon.”

It was deathly silent as the Goblin glared at Lady D'anthius, and he was surprised in himself that he wasn't fidgeting or squirming under the collective gazes of all five Sin'dorei. Yet he managed to hold on, keeping his eyes fiercely on the woman as he waited for her response. She seemed to be scrutinizing him carefully, as if debating whether to even bother replying to him or simply sending her guards after him. Finally, after what seemed like months, she reached up to her mask to take it off softly, revealing her extremely attractive face, and very piercing green eyes burning back into Jashuo with laser focus as he was somewhat taken aback by her reaction. When she spoke, it was in a capable, natural tone of voice:

“Very well. I... graciously accept your donation, Mister...?”

“Blastanut! Mista Blastanut, please,” Jashuo smirked toothily, getting over himself as nodded in return. “I think we'll be getting 'long just fine, Lady D'anthius!”

“Then I hope that next week marks the... proper start of our agreement,” Lady D'anthius paused, then smiled as she bowed her head politely. Jashuo managed a short bow of his own back before clambering back into his Shredder and closing the lid. With a loud sigh, he felt his nerves instantly relax, but not nearly enough to stop him from making as quick of an exit as he possibly could from the city. It was only when the Shredder had turned the corner that Lady D'anthius shook her head, her captain gazing at her.

“It was probably wiser to detain him, milady,” he grunted, looking supremely tired suddenly.

“He caught our ploy. It was a mistake on our own parts, and thus should I pay the price,” the Magistrix replied, that “familiar” tone of curt politeness returning once more. “These Goblins have proven more cunning than expected: we will be smarter for next time.”

The captain looked satisfied with the answer, but as the woman placed her phoenix mask about her face, she looked back in the direction of where the Shredder had departed, and felt a soft twinge in her chest.

He was a curious one, that Blasternut...

#jaegerwrites

[general-fanfiction]

It’s A Boring Story. (Sweet Pea x Reader)

Summary: Sweet Pea remembers the story of how he ended up dating a Northsider.

Word Count: 2,073

Gif Not Mine. Requests Are Open!

Warnings: Swearing? Self Harm, Sexual Harassment.

Third Person POV. She was shy, sweet and quiet. He was confident, rude and loud. They were the last people anybody would have expected to get together. Yet it happened. The intimidating lion was dating the timid mouse. It was completely cliché, but still people couldn't get enough of their relationship. Even Cheryl Blossom, the school's queen bee, was desperate for details. Though, it was safe to say, Y/N and Sweet Pea were rather private when it came to their relationship. It wasn't that they didn't want anybody to know, in fact they didn't care about people knowing of their relationship. It was simply that they would rather not have anybody getting involved. Meddling in something so personal to each of the teenagers could severely damage the strong bond they had built between one another. Neither one of them was prepared to risk that. "You've been dating this Northsider for months now. Surely you've defiled the angel by now." Fangs' comment caused Sweet Pea to clench his teeth. Especially when he used the name 'angel'. That was his nickname for her, not that anybody knew that of course. The Serpent turned his attention to the row of lockers across from him, gazing at the girl in question. A soft smile set upon his features as he watched her skirt ride up her thighs hen she lifted her arm, reaching for the top shelf in her locker. Fangs gently nudged his taller friends, causing his eyes to land back on him. "You waste too much time prying into my relationship." As the words tumble from Sweet Pea's mouth, three people appear by their side. Three females. Cheryl Blossom, Toni Topaz and Betty Cooper. Their eyes follow Sweet Pea's, all three pairs landing on Y/N, who now stands in conversation with Kevin Keller. Cheryl and Toni glance at each, knowing looks on both of their faces. The boy has fallen off the deep end and now he's drowning. He knows it too. Even if he doesn't want to admit it. "You love her." Cheryl points out, looking between Sweet Pea and his girlfriend. Pea is taken back by the comment, eyebrows knitting together. Toni laughs softly at his lack of speech. Fangs punches his friend, happy that finally he has done some good for himself. Sweet Pea lets his shoulders fall, releasing a deep breath as he silently admits to the group that they're correct. "I never thought I would see the day that Sweet Pea fell in love." Toni smirks as she speaks, pleased that if anybody could make her best friend happy that it was Y/N. "So I think everybody is wondering the same thing. How did you two end up together?" Betty asks curiously, prepared to be shot down completely, like any other time a question has been asked about their relationship. Pea watches his girlfriend as she moves, her hands gently tugging on the soft, woolly sweater that hangs delicately off her small frame. The way her hair falls around her face messily, causing her to continuously push it behind her ears. He remembers the first time he ever saw her do that. Actions so small but somehow beautiful to him. Despite meeting under such strange circumstances, the Serpent knows he wouldn't have it any other way. Eight Months Ago. Y/N's POV. Honeydew's Tattoo Studio isn't the most ideal job, especially for a sixteen year old girl. I'm the lowly receptionist, simply taking bookings and greeting those that arrive for their appointments. It's a pretty simple job, so long as you don't mind the long hours. Which I don't. I'm on my own tonight, the owner's are out of town at some convention. They were considering closing the studio, however, decided against it at the possibility of losing clients. I offered to cover the weekend shifts, it's less depressing than staying in my bedroom all day. The sky begins to darken as the sun sets over the large row opposite the shop. Flicking the lights on, I smile slightly, the entire place instantly ten times brighter. It gives off a friendly vibe, it's welcoming. Well, as welcoming as a place with black walls can be. Sliding my phone out of my pocket, I open the messaging app. Hoping that I'll find a text from my mother. Much like usual, I find that I have no new notifications. At this point, I'm not too sure why I bother to look. She hasn't been in contact in years, despite her promises to do so. I guess I just assumed because she was my mother she would care, but clearly I was mistaken. Placing my phone on the desk, I open the drawer slowly. Eyes falling on the small bag of blades that I carry everywhere with me. Pulling on my sweater sleeve, I graze my hand over the rows of scars. Some old, some new. The fresh ones are obvious. Still red, dying to open once again. Instinctively my hand reaches out for the bag, but as the door to the shop flies open I yank down my sleeve and shove the drawer shut. "Listen I'm in deep shit and I need your help. Please just let me hide out here for fifteen minutes or so." The boy is out of breath, face red from either the cold or running. My guess is a combination of both. I don't speak, simply grab his hand and lead him towards the staff toilets. His hands are huge compared to mine, my fingertips pressed gently on the palm of his hand. When I open the door, he shoots me a wide grin, happily entering the small room without question. Turning the key, I lock the door, making sure that I can do whatever it takes to keep him safe. By the looks of it, he needs it. Slipping the key into the small metal safe, hidden behind a rather large mirror, I manage to convince myself that I've done a pretty good job. My nerves slowly beginning to fade. That is until I hear the door of the shop open for the second time this evening. Several pairs of footsteps entering the building. Taking a deep breath, I round the corner, allowing my presence to be known. Three men stand by the door, each holding baseball bats riddled with nails. Slowly my eyes make their way up to the faces of the men. Based off the studded jackets and downright ragged appearances, I'd assume the men are Ghoulies. Gulping slightly, I watch as one of them makes his way towards me. The hair on top of his head is immensely curly and I try to keep my focus on that so I don't have to stare into his hollow, emotionless eyes. "You know where our friend is? He swung by here a few minutes ago." He asks, voiced sweet almost as though he is talking to a child. Shaking my head slightly, I feel myself filling with dread at the possibility of what may happen. Of what these men are capable of. The curly haired man raises his baseball bat, swinging it into the computer that sits on top of the desk. Wincing at the noise, I do nothing to stop as they make their way through to the back. Following quietly, they all look rather amused as they peer around the room. "He wouldn't happen to be in that room there would he?" Before I even have time to answer his question, he is striding over. Hand on the doorknob, pulling on it as hard as he physically can. No matter how much he struggles with it, the door won't budge and the frustration is evident on his face. "Where's the key?" He asks, voice impatient and demanding causing me to shrink back. "I don't know. My boss is out of town, they probably have it." I lie, doing my best to make my voice seem convincing despite the present fear. He growls in anger, kicking over a table of ink. Each jar shatters, sending an array of colour to spill across the tiled floor. When my bosses get back, they're going to be pissed. I'm most likely going to get fired, all for the sake of saving one boy that I don't even know. Sometime I really do wonder how I find myself in these situations. "Strip." Raising my eyebrows, I step back nervously. The three men edge closer, cornering me by the desk Shock evident on my face, the leader of the pack places a hand on my face. Although his touch is gentle, I can still feel the aggression behind the movement. "I asked for the fucking key and I don't believe that you don't have it on you. So strip." Small tears escape my eyes as I kick off my shoes. My mom always taught me that if a guy is pressuring you to do something, then just do it. Don't put up a fight, it will only make things worse. Besides, according to her it's better to face a few minutes of embarrassment and pain rather than the consequences of trying to defend myself. Skirt falling to the floor, I daren't look at their faces. Not willing myself to see how much they're enjoying this. Reluctantly, I pull my sweater over my head, leaving myself exposed to the men in front of me. Out of habit, I try to wrap my arms around myself, in a futile attempt to cover myself up. The leader smirks at me as he strides over, placing his hands over my bra clad breasts. Groping and feeling as much as he wanted. Closing my eyes, I try my best to disassociate from the situation. Though, as his hand travels south I find it increasingly difficult. "Stop it, stop please. I think it's pretty obvious that I don't have the key, so just leave. Please." I whimper softly, pushing on the man's chest, desperate for him to get away from me. He grabs my wrist, fingers tracing along the deep gashes that I made the night before. A deep, cynical laugh escapes his mouth. His goons soon joining in, laughing at my weakness. I've never felt so small, so humiliated. I've never wanted to die as much as I have in this very moment. "Grow up little girl. Cutting is so 2012." When he lets go of my arm, my back slides down the wall behind me. Collapsing into a ball on the floor, I let myself break down. I feel like I'm in heaven when I hear the door close behind them. Though, I can't get over the harsh words and the torture they made me endure. My body shakes violently as I quickly pull on my clothes, knowing that I need to let the boy out of the toilet. The moment the door clicks open, his arms wrap around me in a smothering hug. His hand rests on the back of my head, allowing me to sob into his chest. Not caring about anything else other than making sure that I'm comfortable. "Thank you." He whispers into my hair, pressing a soft kiss to my temple. Clutching at his shirt, I mumble a soft apology which he quickly brushes away. Instead he insists I talk to him. Insists I tell him everything. From what happened with my mother, to what I just experienced, to my problem with self harm. I've never spoken to anybody about my problems before but I manage to let everything out. The boy listening intently to everything I have to say. "You know you're going to be okay. I'm going to make sure of it. I'll be there for you, every step of the way. Just as long as you know you can trust me." He tells me, pulling me in for yet another hug. His arms engulf my small body, yet I don't mind at all. Everything about him is intoxicating, in a good way. From his scent to his height to his voice, it makes me feel safe. He makes me feel safe. Third Person POV. Sweet Pea smiles shyly as he remembers every detail of that night. As he does this, he feels grateful that he and his girlfriend decided to keep things very private within their relationship. Simply because he wanted to keep this story for himself. "It's a boring story. Trust me."

#sweet pea imagine #sweet pea #sweet pea x reader #sweet pea fluff #riverdale #riverdale imagine #betty cooper #Cheryl blossom #fangs fogarty #toni topaz #kevin keller #northside reader #southside #southside serpents #serpents #ghoulies #malachai #fluff #slight angst

[the-original-hybrid-niklaus]

It was supposed to be a senior prank. No one is supposed to die. Or at least that’s what the students of Seaside High planned in the beginning.

It all started when six seniors from Seaside High decided to play a prank on the tyrant who’s been terrorizing the students with his typical wicked teacher antics, Mr. Jelly. The plan is simple—kidnap Mr. Jelly and bring him to Vivian’s family’s cabin near Fox Forest for a weekend and scare him hard enough so that he would give in to their demands as seniors in high school who wants to experience senior promenade before they graduate high school.

And they did. This plan sounded like a perfect plan to Rex, Andrew, Cassie, and Vivian when Jason and Brenda presented it to them.

“That’s perfect. I’m gonna make sure that the lodge is prepared this weekend.” Vivian said sitting on her boyfriend, Andrew’s lap. The others agreed that they should do this plan, not aware of the millions ways this whole operation can go wrong.

Friday came. Everybody is anxious to execute the plan they all agreed on doing tonight. Every tick of the clock feels like a drum pounding inside of their chests. The world spins so fast it makes them feel nauseous but there’s no turning back now. As it was mentioned before, the plan is simple. Wait for Mr. Jelly to end his work at 9 o’clock in the evening like he always do everyday based in Brenda’s observation and take him to the lodge.

When night casted its dark drapes in the sky, the anxiety tripled. Everybody is trying to calm themselves down and waited patiently for the tyrannous principal to come out of his office. When he finally did, the gang cornered him. Just to be sure that no one will know their identities, the students are wearing hideous bunny masks.

“Well, be on your way and you won’t get punished for coming to me like that.” Mr. Jelly said, looking at the students standing in front of him, making a guess on who are behind those hideous masks. None of them spoke a word. Acting based on the plan, Rex and Andrew knocked the principal off, covering his head with a black bag and tying him up. The rest of them helped in carrying Mr. Jelly’s helpless body to the trunk of Rex’s car and they all drove to the lodge where they will hold him captive for the weekend.

Somehow, relief washed over all of them, having executed the plan perfectly and with so far no problems. After an hour of drive, they reached Fox Forest where Vivian Lake’s family cabin is located. The girls prepared the room where they will imprison Mr. Jelly while the boys are carrying Mr. Jelly inside the property, carefully setting him down on the chair and tying him up.

“And now what?” Andrew asked removing his mask while Rex is removing the cloth covering Mr. Jelly’s head off.

“Put it back on Andrew. You’re messing this up!” Jason said, walking around the room frantically.

“Do you guys realize what we just did?” Jason asked the gang. Conscience seems to be catching up on him. Although he is one of the architects of this plan, he can’t help but feel like something is ultimately wrong with this. Honestly, he didn’t even know why he agreed to help Brenda make a plan that will ruin their lives for them.

“W-we’re criminals! That’s what we are now and our lives are ruined—“ he looked at the tyrannous principal and noticed that something his missing. “Where are his glasses?” He asked Rex and Andrew.

“I don’t know, it must’ve fallen off while we’re taking him here.” Rex answered, bending over and trying to look for the principal’s glasses on the floor. But it wasn’t it the room. Andrew and Vivian went out to look in the trunk of the car where he was placed earlier and it wasn’t there either.

“So those stupid glasses are going to mess things up for us.” Jason said, still frantic. Brenda, Jason’s girlfriend, tried to calm him down.

“Calm down, Jason. We’re not gonna do anything bad to Mr. Jelly. We’re just going to scare him. That’s all.” She assured him and herself. She can’t let this ruin their lives. Things should go as planned.

Their hostage started to regain consciousness. He looked around them but all he can see are the blurry and colorful images.

“Where are my glasses?” Mr. Jelly asked weakly, trying to keep his eyes open. His head is aching badly due to being knocked out by his students earlier. He have a pretty good hunch on who’s behind this ridiculous scheme.

“I know who you all are. I’m surprised that Mr. Andrew Thompson are with you tonight.” The hostage spoke as if he isn’t tied to a chair and there aren’t any masked goons in front of him.

“How did you know it’s us?” Andrew did a stupid thing. He took his mask off and somehow confirmed the theory in Mr. Jelly’s mind.

“Well, I didn’t but you confirmed it for me.”

“What the hell, Andrew?” Cassie Blake also took her mask off, looking at Andrew and started on yelling at him for being stupid and blowing their cover. For minutes, it went on like that. Cassie and the others blaming Andrew for exposing their identities to their helpless hostage. All of them except for Jason who is starting to feel guilty and really wants to let Mr. Jelly go.

“Enough. We all played a part in this. It’s not entirely Andrew’s fault.” said Vivian in defense of her red-haired boyfriend. All of their masks are off their head and before they forget the main agenda of this kidnapping they orchestrated, Brenda began negotiating with the principal.

“We want you to not cancel prom this year and allow all of the students you barred from the prom to come at the event, and your word that you won’t punish us. It’s a magical night for us and we want to be a part of that before graduation,.” Brenda started, looking at the man sitting on a chair in the middle of the room. “Record a video of you giving your statement and we will free you. Or we can do this all weekend.”

“I have an alternative.” Mr. Jelly began weakly, his head still hurting from the blow he received from Rex or Andrew earlier. “Let me go, you will be punish accordingly but I will not tell the police about this shenanigan.”

Everyone fell silent for a moment, considering what their principal just said. But the silence was broken by Cassie’s hearty laugh.

“How about, no. You must know by now that I don’t back down from a fight, Mr. Jelly. Give us what we want and we’ll let you go. It’s a win-win situation.” The red-haired girl stated before going out of the room, followed by Vivian, Brenda, and Rex, leaving Jason and Andrew inside the room.

“Just give us what we want, Mr. Jelly.” Jason pleaded, he’s fighting the urge to cut those zip ties off and let their hostage go but he knows that the other won’t agree with him.

Mr. Jelly ignored Jason’s plea and spoke, “I was wondering what your dad will say about this, Mr. Thompson. I’m sure he won’t be proud to see his son be a criminal. You’re a disgrace to your family.” He was trying to get into Andrew’s head, using his father—who’s now dead—to maybe make Andrew feel ashamed of what he did and let him go. It’s pretty hopeful to just think about that and wish it would work. But instead of cutting the zip ties binding him to the chair, Andrew punched his face repeatedly. His father is still a touchy subject for him and the tyrannous principal even talking about him makes his feel angry although he has a point. Jason desperately tried to get Andrew away from Mr. Jelly but the raven haired boy is weaker than the redheaded one. Fortunately, Rex heard the commotion and he hurriedly came to Mr. Jelly’s rescue.

“Hey! Stop it, man.” Rex immediately grabbed Andrew’s arms and yanked him away from the now bloody principal.

After the event earlier that evening, Vivian is still trying her best to dissuade the feelings of anger Andrew is feeling before he does something he’s gonna regret. Cassie is up for the first shift of keeping an eye on their helpless hostage. Mr. Jelly tried to talk some sense into Cassie and even attempted on negotiating with her on his terms but as usual, Cassie isn’t swayed by Mr. Jelly. She remained unbothered through the entirety of her shift.

The night grew older as the hours go by. It’s time they all went to bed to rest and think about a plan to persuade Mr. Jelly to giving in to their demands. Everyone except for Jason is fine with keeping Mr. Jelly here for the weekend. Tonight, as they all sleep soundly in their beds, he plans to free their hostage out of guilt. After a few more moments, he felt that everyone is already dozing off and so the act of redemption begins. The raven haired boy sneaked from his and Brenda’s room and went to the room where Mr. Jelly is being kept but he heard voices coming from the area. Curiosity took over Jason and he listened to the hushed voices talking in room.

“They all want to let you out after this but I don’t think so.” said the voice which belongs to Rex Reynolds. The next thing he heard is Mr. Jelly’s low chuckle before he spoke weakly.

“Don’t tell me you’re still angry about that incident.”

“What the hell is he talking about?” Jason thought to himself as he continued to listen. Secrets are being spilled right now. A punch landed on Mr. Jelly’s face but it made him laugh some more, seeing that his words are getting to Rex’s head. Rex is nothing but disgusted and angry at this man. He always has been since the night that something dirty happened between them. All because of his love for football but this tyrant won’t allow him to play anymore due to bad grades. He felt dirty and molested. He had been for months now. He’s angry at this man who took advantage of his love for the said sport and angry at himself for letting this vile man defile him in such way.

Before words could spill out of the principal’s lips, Rex took the bag they used earlier to cover his head and used it once again to inhibit the air from coming inside Mr. Jelly’s lungs. He did not stop until he stopped struggling and moving. And there he sat, lifeless.

After the events that happened before his eyes, Jason sneaked back to his and Brenda’s room, tears are falling in his eyes. Regret is taking over him. They shouldn’t have kidnapped their principal. It’s wrong on every angle and now it can never be taken back. The fact that Mr. Jelly is now dead scared him and unsettled him, but the fact that one of his friends are capable of such thing is more frightening. Those thoughts kept Jason up all night. It wasn’t until 7:34 am when everyone was awake due to Cassie’s scream. They all rushed to the room where their hostage is being kept and they found them there, dead, colorless, and cold.

Naturally, the blame falls on Andrew who was in a heated moment of rage with their principal earlier. Only Jason and Rex knows the truth.

“Maybe we should go to the police.” Jason suggested. All of them turned on him with looks of disbelief evident on their faces.

“And tell them what, hobo? It’s going to ruin our lives. I don’t plan on spending the next twenty years behind bars.” Cassie snapped, she shifted her gaze on the lifeless body before them once again.

“We need to bury his body.” Brenda suggested and they all went to work. Jason is still ridden with guilt but he obliged in fear that the body count will increase by one.

Weeks have past and no one has found the body of their victim yet. They began to feel safe, even Jason began to feel safe—although the nightmares about that night still bugged him. Just when they thought it’s officially over, a group of campers found a pair of glasses that might’ve belonged to the tyrannous principal and the anxiety kicked in again.

“I don’t care what you’re all going to say, I’m going to tell the police.” Jason said, taking his bag and marching to the door of the club room where they were meeting, but Andrew and Brenda pulled him back.

“No, Jason. You will do no such thing. You will not ruin our lives, our future. I’m still going to Yale.” Cassie placed her hands on her waist and looked sternly at Jason, trying to intimidate him but it’s not going to work.

“Can we all just think clearly here? No one is going to the police.” Vivian began. “No one’s life will be ruined and no one will be going to jail.”

“We are monsters, Vivian.” Jason answered, he cannot believe that he’s hearing about this and nobody seems to care that Mr. Jelly is dead.

“Yes, and we can be monsters in college or monsters in jail. I prefer the former, Jace.” Brenda tried knocking some sense in her boyfriend.

Their meeting ended and they finally persuaded Jason to calm down and not go to the police. He didn’t tell anyone about the things he witnessed and heard that night. But his actions made Rex feel unsafe. He needed to stop Jason before he says something to anyone and to solve their problem. And so he sneaked off from a class and cut Jason’s brakes.

That day, Brenda decided to hang out with the girls and she didn’t ride with her boyfriend. Jason, unaware of the things before him started the engine and drove back to their house. On the way home, Jason hit a ten-wheeler truck and died on the way to the hospital and their secrets died with him.

#short story #abduction #riverdale

[il-lumina]

Susumu Hirasawa - ‘パレード’ / ‘Parade’ [Translated]

Title: ‘パレード' Artist: 平沢進 Album: 白虎野 (Byakkoya) (2006) (Also see Paprika)* [Live Performance: Hybrid Phonon (2014)]

胸にエナジー　ケミカルの泡立ち** mune ni enagii kemikaru no awadachi (In my heart, energy bubbles up in a chemical froth)

ハイヤーや古タイヤや血や肉の通りを行き haiya ya furu taiya ya chi ya niku no toori o yuki (Hired cars, worn tires, blood, and flesh all line the street)

あれがリバティー　ユートピアのパロディー are ga ribati yutopia no parodii (So that is liberty, a utopia's parody)

バイヤーやギガ・ムービーの絢爛の並木は晴れ baiya ya giga mubii no kenran no namiki wa hare (Of buyers and giga-movies is the avenue gleaming with the sun)

[マイナーな欝は戯言　バラ色は廉価]*** [maina na utsu wa zarego to bara iro wa renka] [Minor gloom is nothing but plain farce; rose-tints are a dime a dozen]

[いわく幸せと知れ　持ちきれぬほど] [iwa ku shiawase to shire mochikire nu hodo] [So I say: understand that this is bliss, until you can't bear it]

瀕死のリテラシー　メカニカルに殺す hinshi no riterashii mekanikaru ni korosu (Dying literacy; mechanical is the way it's killed)

売人や吊るワイヤーやホルムアルデヒドの通り bainin ya tsuru waiya ya forumuarudehido no toori (Traders, hanging wires, and formaldehyde permeate the street)

乾くシナジー　合成スイートで湿し kawaku shinazii gose suito de shimeshi (The drying of synergy; ersatz sweets re-moisten it)

高層のメガ神殿に狂乱のファンドの雨 goso no mega shinden ni kyoran no fando no ame (On high-rise mega-temples, a downpour of funds in a frenzy)

[「蒙昧」の文字は書けねど　未来は廉価] [momai no moji wa kakene do mirai wa renka] ['Ignorance’: though it's not written down, the future's dime a dozen]

[なべて迷信と笑え　因果のストーリー]**** [nabe te meishin to warae inga no sutorii] ['Superstition’ is the way to mock the fateful karmic story]

さあ異臭を放ち来る　キミの影を喰い saa ishuu wo hanachi kuru kimi no kage wo kui (Ah, now the stench has truly begun, devouring your shadow all the way)

恐怖のパレードが来る　キミの名の下に kyouhu no paredo ga kuru kimi no nano moto ni (With terror the parade approaches, and it is coming in your name)

轟音のMC　シビリアンには致死量 goon no MC shibirianni wa chishiryou (The roaring MC, for the civilian a lethal dose)

廃人や売るダイアや血に堕ちた道理の通り haijin ya urudaia ya chi ni ochi ta dori no toori (Invalids, sold diamonds, blood that despoils the righteous in the street)

あれがリバティー　ユートピアのパロディー are ga ribatii yutopia no parodii (So that is liberty, a utopia's parody)

頼みはＳＳＲＩ　さて流行のテラスでハイホー tanomi wa SSRI sate hayari no terasu de haiho (Rely on SSRIs, and then from popular terraces cry: 'high-ho!')

[マイナーな説はたわごと　享楽は廉価] [maina na setsu wa tawago to kyouraku wa renka] [Minor theories are nothing but pure nonsense; pleasure's dime a dozen]

[努々省みるな　手遅れゆえ]***** [yume yume kaeriminu na teokure yue] [Not an ounce of regret shall cross your mind, it's too late to repent]

さあ異臭を放ち来る　キミの影を喰い saa ishuu wo hanachi kuru kimi no kage wo kui (Ah, now the stench has truly begun, devouring your shadow all the way)

恐怖のパレードが来る　キミの名の下に kyouhu no paredo ga kuru kimi no nano moto ni (With terror the parade approaches, and it is coming in your name)

さあ地を埋めつくすほど　キミの影が産む saa chi wo umetsukusu hodo kimi no kage ga umu (Ah, it's enough to smother the ground, what your shadow births all the way)

狂気のパレードが来る　キミの名の下に kyouki no paredo ga kuru kimi no nano moto ni  (With madness the parade approaches, and it is coming in your name)

Notes:

* This song is probably one of Hirasawa’s most popular songs, alongside ‘ 白虎野’ / ‘白虎野の娘’ (’Byakkoya’ / ‘Byakkoya no Musume’). The reason for this is that those songs were used in the film Paprika (2006) by Satoshi Kon:

They were fond collaborators and you can hear Hirasawa’s music elsewhere in Kon’s work all the time. We lost a great talent in Satoshi Kon when he died in 2010. I think most fans of Susumu Hirasawa are perfectly aware of Paprika (it’s the reason I discovered him, eight years ago), but if you haven’t had a chance to watch it yet, I recommend it wholeheartedly!

** Not actually a comment on the first line, but what comes before it. ‘Parade’ opens with a garbled, uncanny line that repeats throughout the song. This line is actually backmasked from ‘Nurse Café’, which I dealt with in yesterday’s post! It’s the ‘家々の窓を破り‘ (’ieie no mado wo yaburi’) half of the first line. By itself it translates as ‘... breaking through/shattering the windows of each house’, and I’m willing to believe that this imagery specifically is why he chose it to complement the subject matter(s) of ‘Parade’. If you watch Paprika and where this song comes in, too, it will... make sense why.

*** I wish there had been a way to better translate 廉価. ‘Renka’ means ‘on sale’ or ‘cheaply priced’ but it carries connotations deeper than that. In this song’s context, the word carries a sense of moral defilement with it. Hirasawa’s talking about us having reached some kind of critical mass in regards to amoral consumerism, to the extent that values that could not possibly be talked about in terms of price are being dirtied and devalued. To translate that as ‘dime a dozen’ straddles a line between preserving the cynical wryness of his tone and being outright incorrect, I think, but I don’t think either ‘cheap’ or ‘on sale’ conveys the meaning of 廉価 well enough, either.

**** Tone issues, again. I don’t think the seriousness of this line has come through perfectly in this translation. ‘Karma’ tends to have a bit of a wishy-washy tone to it in English, but I cannot stress enough how serious this is. A better, but non-literal/non-singable translation of ‘なべて迷信と笑え　因果のストーリー’ would be something like ‘[They] dismiss as superstition the foretold consequence of the total sum of our actions’; it’s a comment on cause and effect as much as the defilement the human race has piled upon itself. 

***** This is a slightly expanded translation. I think the tone’s come across and everything that needed to be in it is in it. But if I didn’t care at all for lines being roughly singable, the on-point translation is: ‘Never regret what you’ve done, for it is already too late’.

Disclaimer: The lyrics of ‘パレード’, from Byakkoya, are the property of Susumu Hirasawa and are not copyrighted by this blog nor by the author of this post. The author claims ownership of the English wording of this translation, as well as certain stylistic features, neither of which denies nor seeks to possess the existence of other translations. This translation may change in the future.

#susumu hirasawa #hirasawa susumu #satoshi kon #paprika #paprika (film) #byakkoya #lyric translations #translation #luminatranslations #from: japanese #to: english