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archonsbane · 8 months

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AND I TRY TO TALK REFINED

The one time Il Dottore speaks to you in another language, the one time he speaks to someone else in another language, and the one time you give him a taste of his own medicine.

pairing. dottore x reader

tags & content warnings. gn!reader. reader is the tsaritsa's child. reader is referred to by they/them. there's one (1) mildly suggestive sentence (and it's in a different language lol).

word count. 2.9k

author's note. so. i'm back from the dead. i have two fics for pantalone and one for diluc, around 8k+ words. (none of them are finished LMFAO) but of course i drop everything for this stupid ass man. the reader here is my tsaritsa’schild!reader, though this takes place before beauty is terror. this is set in the early days of their relationship and the start of dottore’s involvement in the fatui. reader's backstory is also implied here, but not outright stated. also i got inspiration from @fatuismooches lovely headcanons, though i strayed a bit far HAHA. thank you for letting me write this! and thank you to my two lovely delulu friends (you know who you are) bc i suddenly got into the mood to write because of them. also, what is heavily implied to be the script of khaenri'ah in-game is based on latin, so i headcanon that latin is the language of khaenri'ah. also i had to sneak in a tsh reference lmfao it was too perfect not to. i promise i don't include it in all my fics it just so happens to be perfect for certain situations huhu. also i hope you guys catch all the little details i put in! reader and dottore have always been like this lol the title is from 'talk' by hozier.

You are undoubtedly the worst teacher Dottore has ever had, bar none.

Flighty, distracted, and prone to seamlessly maneuvering to an entirely different topic without blinking an eye, leaving him dumbfounded. Your teaching sessions, if they could be called that, are filled with constant interrogations of his life and large infusions of food. Half the time you aren’t even teaching him, you’re simply rambling about whatever it is you ramble about (he’s learned to tune you out, partly because he doesn’t care and partly because he can’t understand what you’re saying). He is truly reconsidering forgoing learning Snezhnayan — at the pace you're going, he might as well take his chances and learn by himself.

“But Mother said,” you remind him, petulantly, like a small child. Yes, the Tsaritsa commanded him to learn Snezhnayan, and commanded you to teach him, but he is greatly tempted to ask her to send another teacher. It has only been two weeks since your lessons begun and he might truly go mad. Sometimes he thinks this might be the worst thing a divine being has ever inflicted on him.

In truth, he already knows Snezhnayan, but only enough to hold a polite conversation. It is his least favorite of the languages he learned from his teachers in the Akademiya, and anyway, he never quite had a deftness for tongues. He is always most at home working with his hands, destroying and creating physical matter, covered in dust and soot, cracking open the world’s secrets like an egg. But the Tsartisa willed him to learn, and he is nothing if not a scholar.

“But Mother said,” he mocks, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. He’s learned that you have no convictions about his personality. If anything, you seemed to embrace it. Whereas he dons a respectful — as respectful as he can conjure, anyways — mask with the Jester and the Tsaritsa, it’s… looser, with you. Still, he is careful not to cross the line. He is only allowed this because he amuses you. You've been treating him like some sort of pet to be played with whenever you desire since his coming here. “Your mother also said to teach me how to speak Snezhnayan, but this is the third time you’ve called for snacks in three hours.”

You flash a lazy glare at him and go back to eating your beloved pastilas. “You require a tremendous amount of effort to teach.” You’ve switched back to speaking the common tongue, obviously for his sake. “You’re a horrible student.”

“You’re a horrible teacher!”

You sniff and take another bite of your pastry. “You’re just really bad at learning.”

For that, you get a glance heavenward. He is tempted to simply throttle you and be done with it. Treason seems like a fair price to pay for shutting you up. But he considers his options and decides that he would rather not be on the receiving end of your mother’s wrath — it’s too fucking cold here already. Still, greatly offended by this statement, he vents out his anger by cursing at you.

In the language of Sumeru.

He does not really think of it; his use of his mother tongue has greatly decreased since coming here, but even then, it simply rolls off his tongue as naturally as water flows from a river's mouth.

Your brows shoot up. You open your mouth, pause, and for a moment he fears he is in danger of being exiled or thrown in the dungeon. But then you cock your head to the side. “What does that mean?” You ask.

An idea unravels in his mind, sparkling with mischief. “It means you’re bad at teaching.”

You frown. “For some reason, I feel like you’re lying.”

He curses at you again. Your frown deepens. There is something so satisfying about the way those frustrated lines burrow into your face. When he does it a third time, you actually put down the pastila.

“What does it mean?” You demand. “You aren’t saying anything bad, are you?”

It means you’re an insufferable little bastard of mean intelligence and he hopes you fall into a ditch, so yes, he definitely is saying something bad. “It means you’re the most gorgeous, most wonderful person in the world,” he says, sarcasm dripping from the syllables. When you look genuinely taken aback, he lets out a cruel, derisive scoff. “It means you should trust me more.”

“That seems like a horrible idea.”

He shrugs and reaches over to take one of the pastilas, light pink with a white, foamy top, vaguely aware that another one of your language lessons has gone considerably off course. Perhaps that was too light a description. It shot in one direction and came speeding back the other way. “Suit yourself, Your Imperial Highness.”

You smack his hand away, gently. Almost too gently. “Those are mine.”

He eats it, anyway, and learns many new colorful Snezhnayan curses for it, though he detects no real annoyance in your voice. You ring for another batch of desserts. He counts it as a successful lesson.

He continues speaking in Sumerian when you're near. It’s the greatest of treasures, seeing you frown and demand to know what he had just uttered in your presence. Sometimes he just says the first phrase that enters his head, most times he insults you and relishes in your clueless blinking. You can't do the same to him — he's been picking up on Snezhnayan at an exponential pace, and he's made sure to memorize all of the insults and swears first. Obviously. It’s his talent for machinations that he prides himself on, but lately, he’s been deriving vicious pleasure from the fact he can speak twenty languages, though it never mattered much to him before. It’s a good, safe outlet for his annoyance whenever you’re near, which you seem to always be, nowadays.

Even outside the language ‘lessons’ (the word lessons being used extremely lightly) you seem to trail him wherever he goes. Ambushing him in the halls, materializing in the laboratory, and in general trailing him like some attention-starved puppy. He resents it, resents the stars that float through your eyes whenever he enters your view, resents the way you immediately disengage from whatever it was that you were doing to attach yourself to him, all smiles.

He actively avoids you, but somehow you keep running into him. On purpose or accidentally, he has no idea. He suspects it is the former.

Today is one of those days. You’re by his side, again, chatting happily about… something. He’s trying to tune you out, focusing on the long walk back to his laboratories after a meeting with the Tsaritsa. He needs to do something about that, it’s woefully inconvenient to have to walk a mile every time she calls on him. Some sort of contraption that could go up and down easily would be of great use, and he wouldn’t have to climb so many fucking stairs.

Then — it happens. In your excitement, you bump into some government official accompanied by another, what his role is Dottore does not know and does not care to, but he must be quite high up if he allows himself to glare at you for an instant before it disappears into a cool stare. Or maybe he just has a lot of gall.

"Oh, my apologies sir," you murmur, ducking your head.

"Quite alright, Your Highness," he says smoothly, "have a good day." He turns his back and starts to mutter to his companion, their heads bent together, completely unaware that with your godly senses and his recent enhancements to his body, you both can hear every word.

"How clumsy," the first man tuts, "what does their mother teach them? She's been too soft on them."

"She lets them run amok doing whatever they please. The other day, they—"

"—yes, I heard. Look at those clothes, aren't they too plain for the heir?"

His companion makes an agreeing noise. "And the company they keep… "

Dottore doesn't particularly care about what other people think of him, and perhaps if it was only the last sentence that had been uttered he wouldn't have said a word, but the tirade of their complaints makes irritation, absurdly, flare inside him. He whips his head back to their retreating figures, and you throw him a glaring warning, so he clenches his jaw and stays where he is. He isn't one to do nothing, however.

“Kol khara,” he says to them, viciously. Eat shit. He hears you stifle a sound that might be a laugh and briefly wonders why exactly you would laugh.

The men turn back around. “Excuse me?” The first one says.

“Nothing,” he says, curtly, his eyes like sharp daggers, “go on." They throw each other confused glances but say nothing further, going further down the hall until he can no longer see their backs. You both stay in the middle of the now-empty hallway, staring silently off into the distance.

You’ve never been able to contain your curiosity for long. After a good minute of silence, you turn inquisitive eyes on him. He’s been expecting your question.

"What did you say?" You ask.

He shrugs; makes a dismissive gesture with his hand. "Nothing."

You narrow your eyes. "I know it isn't nothing. It was something bad, right? You've said it to me before.” Clever you, he thinks briefly. Nothing gets past you. When he stays enclosed in icy silence, you press on further, “I won’t be mad. It doesn’t bother me — I think it’s funny. Just tell me.” He has no idea why you would ever think it’s funny. Nonetheless, he stays silent.

You try again. “Tell me.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Tell me,” you say again, but this time you slip into the voice of the noble, unshakeable heir to Winter. The two words are a command, and they leave no room for argument. He must follow.

He sighs and runs a hand down his face. “It means I want them to eat shit.”

A moment of silence passes and Dottore wonders if he should start running. Then, you start to laugh. A small laugh, so small he almost thinks he could cup it in his hands and never let it go. But he recognizes it as different from the laughs you’ve given him before. This one is warm and sweet, conjured from the belly upwards. Summer in a sound.

He tries very hard not to smile when he says, “you aren’t mad?”

“No,” you say, still laughing, “I suppose I do deserve it.” He silently agrees. “Anyways, after coming to my defense, I forgive you.”

He snarls, that sudden irritation reviving itself. “I wasn’t coming to your defense.”

You shrug, not looking bothered at all. “Fine. Defending yourself and by extension — and complete coincidence — me.”

He decides it is best not to argue, and listens quietly as you walk with him back to his laboratory, chatting happily away once more. If you notice that over the next few days, his outbursts toward you decrease, you say nothing of it. And if you notice he is insulting other people more in other languages, seemingly for the sole purpose of making you laugh, you say nothing of it, too.

You’re speaking Sumerian.

Fluent Sumerian. Rapid-fire Sumerian, without blinking or stumbling over your words. Clean, pure Sumerian, speaking everything with the perfect enunciation of a noble. You don’t notice him behind you, utterly bemused, as you speak to a foreign dignitary from his homeland. The First drags him out of the underground labs from time to time in order to socialize and familiarize himself with the political atmosphere, but Dottore lets you do all the work for him. You engage in polite small talk, though delivered with much more enthusiasm than necessary. But the words are barely intelligible in his head. It isn’t possible that you’ve learned how to speak fluent Sumerian in such a short about of time. He will begrudgingly admit your brightness, small as it is, but even he cannot master a language within a few months. Which means there must only be one conclusion.

When you notice him, your face morphs into one of surprised panic. Oh. He’s sure his fury is plain to see. It’s at that precise moment the dignitary — Dottore does not see the point in blessings but, Archons bless her — chooses to excuse herself, leaving you open and without a proper excuse to escape with.

“You can speak Sumerian,” he says, plainly, having immediately taken the empty spot at your side. You take cautious, half-step backwards.

You look both amused and slightly abashed.

He grits his teeth. “For how long?”

“... since I was five." A pause. You look thoughtful. "Actually, it was your Greater Lord Rukkhadevata who first taught me."

This new piece of information surprises him so much that the flames of his anger are snuffed out, if only for a second. Then they come back raging, and he cannot contain it.

"You knew what I was saying this entire time!" He rages, jabbing an accusing finger at you. You cringe away. "You could understand all of it!"

"Not all of it—" When you see the exasperation that crosses his face, you smile. "Alright. Most of it."

You begin to walk away, but he furiously follows you. "You lied to me!"

"You were cursing me to my face. I think it's a fair exchange." You shrug with one shoulder, eyes sparkling with mischief. "It was funny, anyway. Your cluelessness, that is." And then, "you should know, now that you know — I can speak the main languages of each nation."

"I can too," he says haughtily, raising his chin up at you.

"Really?" You laugh. "Cubitum eamus?"

"What?"

"Nothing."

"What does that mean?" He demands, only half aware he's repeating the interaction you once had over a plate of pink and white sweets. He's never heard a language sounding quite like that. Perhaps it could be a dialect, but it doesn't sound similar to any currently existing language. "What language is that?"

You deliver your coup de grâce with such smooth smugness on your face. "It's Khaenri'ahn." The dead language.

He blinks. Opens his mouth dumbly. And lunges.

As he chases you through the halls, your laughter floats warm and clear in the frigid winter air. You easily outpace him, but perhaps out of pity, you let him catch you and drag you to — well, he doesn't exactly know where he's going, only that he does not want to let you escape his rage. You thrash in his arms like a trapped animal, still controlled by a laughing fit all the while.

"I hate you," he grumbles later, when you've calmed him with a slice of strawberry cheesecake from the kitchens. He's still quite angry, but not angry enough to not accept your peace offering. "You're horrible."

"So are you."

A pause, then, "Teach me Khaenri'ahn," he says, leaning forward, a bright idea sparking in his chest. "There's so many texts I have yet to decipher — you have no idea the knowledge I can grasp if you teach me." He thinks of the old Ruin Golems in Sumeru. How hard it was to learn how to control them! But with your help, with your knowledge, he could crack the world open like an egg and watch its secrets spill like yolk.

"I thought I was a bad teacher."

"Bad is better than none at all."

The utterly offended look that flashes on your face teases a grin from his mouth. "You're horrible."

"So are you."

He thinks he sees the corner of your mouth involuntarily curl upward. You twirl your fork in your fingers, humming thoughtfully. "Why should I?"

"... For the pleasure of contributing to my research?" The look you give him tells him you're not at all convinced. He continues, "My research that is so very essential to the success of this nation?"

You scoff, but you cannot deny it. He would not be alive if he wasn't useful to Snezhnaya.

"You'll owe me," you tell him.

He shrugs. "There's worse things in the world. Let's start."

It startles you somewhat. "What, now?"

"Yes, now. Unless you have other things to do?"

You don't. Your language lessons with him already ended when he reached an acceptable mastery over Snezhnayan according to your mother, and he knows that though you have a schedule (mysterious and utterly incomprehensible though it is — not even he has been able to figure it out), you'd drop everything in an instant if something else interests you. Your other engagements are often boring things, too, and the only duty you ever truly commit to are the strange missions your mother sends you on, ones that could go for months on end. He's fairly certain you'll acquiesce to his request.

You pretend to consider it, before shrugging with hardwon carelessness and saying, "Fine."

You're exactly the same. Flighty, distracted, and prone to seamlessly maneuvering to an entirely different topic without blinking an eye. Half the cheesecake is eaten before you even start on the alphabet, and the journey to that is filled with endless detours that consist of bickering, fighting over the (large) cake, and kicking each other like children under his work table. His intelligence is insulted more times in half an hour than in his entire years of study at the Akademiya.

Dottore decides, with solid determination, after eating the last slice of cake, finally learning the pronunciation of the vowels and consonants, and being on the receiving end of an onslaught of Khaeri’ahn curses he truly cannot understand — which is horribly ironic considering the past few weeks — that he might as well beg the Jester for lessons instead, and no one can do a damn thing about it. He tells this to you, chin up, resolute and unwavering in his declaration.

He never does get around to doing that.

#— ficlets.#genshin imapct #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin imagines #genshin fluff #dottore #il dottore #dottore x reader #il dottore x reader #fatui x reader #the cubitum eamus question is a reference to the secret history for those who don't know #reader is asking dottore to sleep with them lmfao #also the full lyric for the title is #'so I'll try to talk refined for fear that you find out how i'm imaginin' you'#so that's something :))

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jinn-mori · 2 months

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NNT Language Headcanons

You give a world languages major an interest in Seven Deadly Sins and what do you get? You get linguistic headcanons! Or what languages I think the Sins speak. English is our 'No duh' since this is in fantasy Britain, so that's out of the way.

Merlin and Meliodas are in the 'I speak a fuckton of dead languages' club bc of how long they've been around. Merlin knows Welsh bc her real world counterpart is Welsh in origin I believe. Meli knows Latin bc haha the demon knows Latin. This would extend to Tristan knowing bits and pieces of dead languages that he picked up from Meliodas... mainly the swears.

So, Escanor's home kingdom may be based off of an old kingdom in Spain so he'd speak Spanish. He'd also try to pick up Welsh to impress Merlin and you can bet his main way of practicing would be writing Welsh poetry. He'd also tend to default to using the formal version of you most of the time.

I could see Diane speaking German. Like, she stubs her toe or something and you just hear the most guttural shout of 'Scheiße!'. And the rough sound German can have at times could make her attacks sound badass.

Ban knows French. There are several reasons I have this headcanon. For one, there's a scene in the abridged where he speaks French. Secondly, if my memory is correct, the first instance of Lancelot appearing in Arthurian literature was written by a Frenchman. Thirdly, he's my comfort character and if headcanoning him speaking French is what it takes to get me to practice my French then let the autism KICK MY ASS. Finally, French can sound cocky/condescending and this bastard of a man would get a kick out of that. Like, just imagine him babytalking Lancelot in French when the kid is refusing to go to bed. And yes, Lancelot would pick up French from Ban. Also, whenever Ban needed to bitch about something or swear but Lancelot was around, he'd switch to French so that his kid doesn't get a foul mouth.

King picked up German bc Diane reasons. I feel he'd speak a Celtic language of some kind, not sure which one.

Gowther is also in the 'I know dead languages' club but mainly uses it to read stories in dead languages. Just imagine Gowther reading Gilgamesh in cuneiform. That bitch would! He also tries picking up the different languages that the other Sins speak. He finds Spanish and French the easiest to pick up due to their similarities and him already knowing Latin.

Ban and Escanor actually try learning from each other due to French and Spanish being in the same language family.

#nnt #nanatsu no taizai #nnt ban #nnt meliodas #nnt merlin #nnt escanor #nnt diane #nnt king #nnt gowther #ban the undead #4kota lancelot

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alphamalereviewsfanfics · 1 year

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CAN YOU TASTE MY LUST? CAN YOU FEEL MY SIN? By Heartofhubris

SUMMARY: “But, the issue had arisen during your nights when he filtered into your dreams. Nights of imagining him taking you in the pews,laying you out on the dark woodtostrip you bare to his whims. When you focused back into the Father, you felt your blush travel up to your ears. The thoughts would only offer more confessions, and you didn’t want to add in more sins you had to confess. “We are all sinners,” Father Ford said.

Enjoy the sacrilege, you damn heathen

Priest Ford AU where he's aware of what he can do and he does it.”

PREGAME: Happy Easter my fellow alphas!!!!! My partner requested this one and I thought it would be silly if I was a bit sacreligious on this holiday because I kinda hate it 😎😎😎 not because of like the religious shit itself but like because the rabbit shit doesn’t compute in my brain and also because of how my family celebrates good ole Easter but what can you do. I’m not catholic, but I was raised pretty non-denominational Christian and I haven’t been to church since I was 10 so like I know nothing about this shit. I’ll take most of my knowledge from watching midnight mass so like if it’s insanely inaccurate to how this catholic shit goes then that’s not on me that’s on the author, who describes themself as “catholicphobic.” Also I only read this twice instead of my usual five times before reviewing so sorry if the review sucks ass that’s just the alpha way though.

REVIEW: When I was younger I desperately wanted to learn latin. I watched this Wes Anderson movie called Rushmore (it was an earlier one so it wasn’t filled with the crazy aesthetics he has now) and I was in love with the idea of taking Latin and going to a Latin club and reviving an almost dead language. It drove me mad and I would try to teach myself Latin with google translate (because duolingo and sites like that weren’t really a thing) and I learned all about the etymology of words in the English language and I was obsessed with it and I would tell everyone what the root of certain words was and it annoyed the shit out of people (especially my sister). Anyways the point of all this is that Latin is not sexy. And it never will be sexy to me. And I don’t know why I was so fucking hung up on the mention of latin because like there aren’t even any latin words in this fic!!!!! It just mentions it!!!! So moral of the story don’t be me. This is pretty well written though bro. The author succeeds with constructing a kinda like repentance vibe in the first few sentences. Like it feels like there’s nothing else to be written besides priest porn. Like that’s the end goal. Even if there wasn’t priest porn in it I would get the vibes of priest porn like just read the first few sentences l think Aw man this’ll either be some good religious horror novel or some killer priest porn. And I respect the hell out of that bro like it got the tone down bro. And like the porn itself is pretty well written like man I’m bewildered that the tone just fit so well bro like I don’t get it I’m baffled bro this is insane!!!!!! Like the porn was so well written bro it has tone and emotion to it you don’t get usually bro trust me. Anyways my partner said they were really into this fic and I gotta support them on that it was well written even if I find the father thing kinda silly but like I don’t know I’ve never tried it. Also priests are silly and I couldn’t see Ford into religion like characterization wise buuut I’m putting the mischaracterization aside because it’s just made for people who want to get off to priest ford pines and I gotta respect that. So if you’re into ford pines and you’re into priest shit this fine Easter Sunday then do some sacrilegious shit and read this fic

RATING: 6/8 fingers (BETA MALE STATUS)

Happy Easter and Ramadan and Passover and death anniversary of Margaret Thatcher my alphas 😎😎💪💪🔥🔥🔥

#alpha review #fanfic review #gravity falls fanfiction #Stanford pines x reader #ford pines x reader #I love my partner and their taste is impeccable

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jellyfishrunaway · 11 months

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Finally creating my yuusona/yuu insert bc I'm bored

(Notes in parenthesis are things not known by the other characters bc they forget to tell people stuff, + prev. = in their home world, cur. = in twisted wonderland)

PS: the home world/language section is under the impression that twst common tongue is English, including in NRC and that Latin is a dead language there

Slight chapter 5 spoilers in extra!

BIO

Name: Yu (they haven't told anyone their last name, so just Yu.)

Birthday: During one of the school breaks (July 12, cancer)

Pronouns: he/him (will also respond to they/them) but creator usually refers to him with they/them

Age: 18

Height: 5'2 / ~ 157.48 cm

Dominant hand: right

Homeland: unknown land (US)

Family: unnamed mother, unnamed father, unnamed older half sister

Voiced by/ voiced claim: currently n/a

Other names: Yellowtail rock fish (floyd), Trickster (rook) (couldn't think of anything so... yeah)

SCHOOL

Grade: freshman/first year (but previously mentioned on how they were a third year before coming to twisted wonderland, but because of their magicless-ness, they have to stay a first year, not that they really care all that much)

Class: Class C (no. 15)

Club: n/a or literature club (also debating if they should be in art club, but to my knowledge, neither of these clubs have been confirmed, so...)

Favorite subject: prev. N/A, science cur. Potionology/alchemy

Best subject: prev. Math, social studies cur. Potionology/alchemy

PREFERANCES

Hobbies: Most forms of art including: painting, sewing, jewelry making, Keychain making, ect. Walking in a circle for hours and day dreaming.

Pet peeves: abuse of power, people that make him uncomfortable

Favorite food: prev. Those mf rice n' roonie microwave things cur. Steak

Least favorite food: Moose/chocolate Moose

+ allergic to hazel nuts, avocados, and almond

Talent: if interested enough, can quickly find ways around seemingly impossible things / problem solving

PERSONALITY TYPES

Intp-t

9w8

PERSONALITY (as described by creator)

People pleaser, if you're rude to them, they are rude to you, could beat someone's ass but is literally to nice, madilaptive daydreamer, procrastinator, severely underestimates them self, probly has self esteme issues, but they loyal and genuinely a nice person to people thye like, thinks there is a basic line of respect and people have to earn to be more respected by them/respect is earned, not given,

PERSONALITY (as described by oc)

Pretty boring, procastintor, an asshole sometimes, annoying ig

HOMEWORLD

Past relationships: n/a

Friends: 4 unnamed, mentioned best friend nicknamed Alph but actual name is unknown, old friend named Ellory

Living status: was upper middle class before coming to twisted wonderland

LANGUAGE

Language: Everything is basically the same, but Latin (the dead language) replaces English. This doesn't interfere with the past, but basically, language developed to swap Latin with English, so English speaking countries (America, Canada, Britain, ect?) just speak Latin instead.

"Then how does Yuu know English if it's a dead language?"

Yuu took up learning English because they were interested in it, and they had nothing to do, so they picked it up as a hobby

EXTRA:

During SDC, once Vil was done overbloting, they passive aggressively lectured him in Latin, and to this day, nobody knows what they said

I will answer questions in comments/reblogs, may add to this later (and maybe, I'll draw them them if i feel like it)

+ will add relation chart later

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #disney #twst #disney twst #twst wonderland #twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #yuusona #twst yuusona #oc info #twst oc info

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imabiscuitinthousandworlds · 11 months

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I whine a lot about latin and being graded on it sucks and grammar is hard and annoying BUT i just saw someone be a dickhead about learning latin so GUESS WHAT MOTHERFUCKER i'm gonna list everything i love about it.

even before we could translate shit and just wrangled dry grammar and vocab i have such fond memories (well credit goes to our teacher there)

like the entire class just marching around the classroom all chanting "is ea id! eius eius eius! ei ei ei!" etc it was so much fun

stopping the time to see who can decline a noun the fastest! to this day if i get stuck i just mentally chant "imperator-imperatoris-imperatore-" suuuuuper fast

also so many words just make sense! like some vocab is literally just like in my native language or in english. and other have helped me so much while learning french and some spanish! it's all! the same! roots! and for my language-loving ass this is actually paradise!!

one we *were* able to translate shit we got to translate actual. texts.

caesar!! an annoying bastard with six-line run-on sentences where nothing makes sense but we literally read THE ORIGINAL CAESAR BOOKS. in their original language. the way he wrote them. that is SO COOL and impressive!!!

the same applies to cicero! and catull! they are so well-known and i read their original texts without error of translation or nuance lost to language differences

i read about the eruption of mt vesuvius in the original, ORIGINAL actual source used by historians to learn about this!! i literally read the original wording of pliny's letters *AND I UNDERSTOOD* (mostly)

martial was a funny motherfucker and i analyzed his poems in their original language! i could see (if not necessarily understand) ever linguistic twist and joke he wrote into them! the ones that can't be translated! i read those!!

almost every time i see latin out in the wild i can just. understand shit?? there's some weird stuff above the door of that super old interesting church how about i translate that and know what teh fuck it says i can literally do that

like FUCK people who think otherwise! it can suck in class but latin is an amazing language to learn! yeah it's dead, but GUESS WHAT it influences so many things still! it's so important still! and interesting! and if you think something sucks just bc it's old and no longer directly present, well, rip to you and also dinosaurs. LEARNING LATIN ABSOLUTELY RULES. I HAVE LOST SO MUCH SLEEP AND SWEAT AND TEARS TO THIS LANGUAGE BUT I AM SO GLAD I GOT TO LEARN IT FOR FOUR YEARS REGARDLESS. I HAVE LEARNED SO MUCH. THIS WILL ALWAYS BE USEFUL IN SOME WAY

#yes the exams suck #(point in question: today [tho i did ok i think])#BUZ #B U T #*point to post above*#just. im also excited that that post got me fiercely defensive and i argued myself back into loving it #i mean im done after this year (getting my certificate thingy hopefully) but damn #what a time #it *was* worth it #also another shout-out to my first latin teacher. she was amazing. we all loved latin back then and the entire class had As and Bs #and we were so motivated #without her i would not have gotten to the still somewhat decent grades i have today lmao #without her a lot of other stuff would be missing as well but lets not get into that rn #latin #languages #a biscuit's rambles

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lenorethequietbookkeeper · 10 months

Note

Can't believe this never dawned on me before. Do any of the holders speak another language? Have new languages developed over the eons?

Very excited to talk about this one cause I've always wanted to discuss demon language specifically!

But!! I'm getting ahead of myself! I'll answer the first part quick!

John- Basically nothing outside of English. Knows some individual words, but often mixes up what languages they come from, and even what they mean.

Charles- A bit of Standard Chinese, but not enough to hold a conversation. Some Greed-Variety Demontongue, just enough to handle business contracts.

Ferris- A decent amount of Spanish, although he doesn't use it a whole lot due to lack of opportunities. Basic Demontongue, mostly dumb pickup lines.

Daniel- Literate with French, Egyptian, Standard Chinese, and a decent amount of Basic and Pride-Variety Demontongue, is unable to speak any of these.

Jeagar- Very knowledgeable regarding Hebrew, literate with several ancient dead languages, especially Latin, Sanskrit, Biblical Hebrew, and Akkadian. Also literate with all varieties of Demontongue and Angelchirp. Can speak most of these on an intermediate level.

---

Now!! Regarding languages in the ZoP universe! In general, at least on Earth, I don't imagine humans or undead have really created new languages. That being said, I do imagine the degradation of borders and interactions between undead/humans from other cultures has led to the development of multiple sub-languages all around the world. I won't get into every single one here, it's just something I'm laying out.

There are two languages exclusive to ZoP itself I'd like to discuss; Angelchirp and Demontongue, those being the native tongues of angels and demons of course.

---

NOTE: Just for context, the words from these languages take snippets from other words of whatever speech they're being translated into (ex; "fivfinlim", which takes bits from the words "five", "finger", and "limb", means "hand" in Basic Demontongue). The words in my writing will be based on the English language for my convenience. That being said, Angelchirp and Demontongue are very complicated in their original forms, so they need to be heavily localized for humans to even understand them as languages (and literally not explode while trying to speak them).

TLDR; The translated versions of these languages I use in ZoP are not the only versions that exist.

---

OK WITH THAT IN MIND, Angelchirp is pretty universally similar for all angels. There may be some dialect differences for the higher-ups, but that's about it. When translated, it often uses bits of words related to emotions and the spiritual. It also acts as the base for all languages in the universe, including Demontongue.

Speaking of, Demontongue is far more complex and insane than to Angelchirp. While most basic nouns/verbs are universally the same, a lot of words can be totally different depending on what species of demon is speaking. So uh...yeah...prepare for a beefy ass read lmao.

---

Gluttony/Wrath/Lust-Variety (also called Basic): The first and most common rendition of Demontongue. Quite similar to Angelchirp in its original script due to being a direct descendent from when Hell was first created. Where it differs is that when translated, it uses snippets of words related to the physical, usually regarding nature and flesh.

---

Greed-Variety: A more complicated version than Basic, originally invented by greed demons as a form of code to prevent outsiders (including other demons) from prying into their affairs. Not really spoken in casual conversation, mostly used to encode secret messages. Often rely on the words of numeric systems when translated.

---

Sloth/Envy-Variety (also called Simple): An odd version of the language that predominantly appears in magic-related material written during humanity's Dark Ages. Origins coincide with the era when Sloth and Envy Demons terrorized humanity. Most notably the easiest variety to translate due to being more similar to the Greek alphabet than demonic runes (the progenitor for Basic Demontongue). Because of this, magidemics believe Simple was actually created by early human sorcerers as a tool for what would become spell crafting.

---

Pride-Variety: The most difficult and complicated of all varieties of Demontongue created during the peak of the Pride Demon's culture. Infamous for having some of the most convoluted, long, and difficult to pronounce words, perhaps in all of the universe (ex: "crekmahogoakbireverbarkflorfon", which means board). Hell-based historians argue this is to increase the magic potential of Pride Demon spells, although adept sorcerers believe this was done so the noble class could gatekeep their brand of magic from the "common rabble". Regardless, due to the outbreak of the Affliction, there is the very real possibility that this dialect might become a dead language in the not too distant future, which brings worry to the magic world, but relief to those tasked with translating demonic scripture.

---

-From Biblically Accurate Producer!

#zop #zombiesofpythonel #answered ask #zop lore #the holders #demons #language #fantasy language #worldbuilding #b.a.p.

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fuck-customers · 2 years

Text

I am one of a small number of Spanish speakers at my store, so I often get asked to take over calls or head up to other floors to help with Spanish speaking customers who just can’t communicate in English or just prefer using Spanish. This past week I actually had a higher number of Spanish incidents than I usually do, and a couple of them were so funny.

First of all, I had to take over a phone call that shaved a few years off my life, because basically the person wanted to cancel their e-mail subscription (something that as a physical retail location we have nothing to do with, but I guided them through it regardless because why not?) because they were moving to Germany the next day and wouldn’t need it anymore. I helped them and everything was fine other than my questioning how you managed to get to a point where you’re moving to a whole other country but you can’t figure out how to unsubscribe from an email, but whatever, fair enough, we all have our qualms. The actual funny part of this came later on that same day when I was retelling the story to some coworkers, and as I was telling the story I started it off by saying that ya know, I greeted the person on the phone by saying “Hola cómo te puedo ayudar? Hi, how can I help you?” But then remembered none of my coworkers knew any Spanish so I’d be having to repeat the conversation twice in different languages the entire time if I didn’t decide to just use one language, so I decided to just drop the Spanish and continue my story in only English, so that what I next said was, “And then the customer was like, ‘I need to unsubscribe from your emails,’” which caused all of my coworkers to just die from laughter. They had misunderstood, they thought that because I had dropped using Spanish to retell the story, that likewise the customer, after being put on the phone with me, had just switched to English. As in like, they thought that maybe this person was like “oh no, I don’t wanna talk to no white people, I wanna talk to a latine.” Which like no, and god that would have been HILARIOUS if it was the case and almost kind of sad it wasn’t. The other funny incident was just the other day, I got a call from another coworker on a different floor who needed a Spanish speaker for a customer, he told me he was trying to see if she was willing to just talk to me over the phone, but she didn’t seem to be understanding what he was asking, and so I told him I’d be up soon, I just needed to pull my coworker from the register where she’d gone to help with the line, so that way we’d have someone on the floor while I went up. After a couple of minutes, almost five, I was able to pull her and then I headed upstairs to see if the customer was still there and needed help. Luckily she was still there, so I go up and in Spanish ask her how can I help her, to which she replies in the most monotone and dead voice possible, “Where is the exit?” no inflection, no emotion, no nothing, to the point it takes me a second to reply that the exit is down in the first floor, she then proceeds to ask me, in the exact same voice, if she can take the elevator, which is yet such another obvious answer that I just reply yes, and literally within 0.0000001 second she has turned away from me and has headed to the elevator to go back down, even though she had been several feet closer to the escalators that also would have taken her down probably faster than waiting for our slow ass elevators. And I was just like, this entire conversation was such a waste of my time that its only redeeming feature is that it got me a couple minutes of overtime.

#submissions #happy ending #fuck customers #wtf customers

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kai-keda · 1 year

Note

cajun archeologist oc :0 give deets

BET

So this gay ass little dude right here?

This is Randall Barrilleaux

He is a Cajun who was born and raised in Lafayette, Louisiana

His name and status as an archeology student is based on Randall Ascot from Professor Layton and the Miracle Mask (my favorite PL character) and there are still quite a few similarities to him but the character has evolved to his own thing. Thanks in no small part to the fact that I heavily push the Cajun angle with him.

I’m telling ya, the day I realized nothing was stopping me from forcing Cajun rep into my favorite stories was the day I truly became free.

He is Cajun and as such he was raised Roman Catholic but by the time he starts going to school in a big university, he becomes more agnostic than anything. From a young age he became super interested in Journey to the West by chance and through studying the real-world history and anthropology connected to it, gained an obsession with archeology.

Another element that we have his Cajun routes to thank for is that he was raised bilingual - English and French (more specifically, a Creole dialect - every time I say he speaks French without that footnote, a European French person trips over a baguette)

Thanks to being raised bilingual, learning new languages was never a difficult thing for him. You could also say he has a natural talent for it. This helps a lot for his archeology study so he can read a lot of different languages, most clearly the dead/mostly dead ones like Latin and Middle Chinese.

He’s put most of his focus into learning different Chinese languages, though, cause of his specific interest in the history there.

Interactions between him and Red Son are a lot of fun because of that.

Red tries to trip him up with Middle Chinese one time and, while slow and a little rough, Randall manages to respond in kind. And then Randall later throws French in his direction and Red - someone who had spent a lot of time in the French part of India - is left feeling awkward and thinking that Randall’s butchering another language. Not realizing that it’s one of his native ones and that it’s actually just a dialect thing.

I primarily use Randall to ship with my fankid - Peter - as a “oh my God they were roommates” in college situation but it’s also fun to consider an alternate timeline where Randall starts interacting with the main crew during the time period of the show.

Randall almost gets sliced up for referring to Mei as “Cher” one time and is panicking too hard to figure out how to explain that it was an instinct and is a term of endearment. Meanwhile he uses “Couyon” quite a bit and NEVER tells anyone what’s up with that.

There’s more to him and the main timeline I have for him (thanks to an RP with a close friend lol) but I’ll end this post here hah

#ask #lmk Oc #lmk Randall Barrilleaux

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magnusthefish · 4 years

Conversation

Thomas: Everyone has a toxic trait. Except Christopher, he's too pure

Christopher: Wrong. My toxic trait is how badly I want to domesticate a raccoon

#same #i don't think it would go well but i still want to #for the bants x #also can we talk abt how google translate doesn't have dead languages on it #im livid #sometimes u have to translate two paragraphs of ancient greek and you're really tired and you just wanna google translate it #and you CANT #they only have modern greek #and don't get me started on latin #at least with modern greek you can get a vague sense of some of it #with latin you're just on your own #and my greek and latin teacher has decided that #on top of extra time at school #we also have to do a fuckin LONG ASS TRANSLATION #and learn 40 words #every single week #the second you're done with the greek translation and vocab?#you immediately have the latin versions!#never a dull moment #i always have my homeworks on my hand and greek and latin are permanently there #i ALWAYS have some greek or latin to do #absolutely livid #anyway this has been me complaining #dont do greek and latin kids just do latin if u wanna do an ancient language #thomas lightwood #christopher lightwood #tsc #tlh #cog #chog

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deancaspinefest · 2 years

Photo

Summer Camp Chitaqua

Author: teen_dean | Artist: Flora Gois Posting on Tuesday February 15

Hunters' Sleepaway Camp. Six weeks of fighting, hunting, and survival skills... with time for movie nights, intramurals, and talent shows. Each summer, Dean's back at Camp Chitaqua leading a cabin of teenage hunters. This year, Bobby's brought on a mysterious new staffer named Castiel, who arrives with his teenage son Jack in tow. They're an oddly distant pair, but Dean can't help admitting there's something that draws him to Cas. It doesn't help that Charlie tries to engineer them together, that Dean's got a soft spot for Jack, and that the girls in Beech Cabin are dramatizing their lives for the closing night theatrical. When trouble comes in the form of a demon terrorizing the campers, Dean learns that Cas isn't everything he seems, and that there may at long last be an explanation for the handprint-scar he's worn on his shoulder for years.

Keep reading for a sneak preview!

“No new recruits this year to hand sanitation duty off to, I guess,” said Dean, casting a glance around the staff table once more. All familiar faces, some more reluctantly beloved than others. Ash, making a show of not listening to Jo, gargled beer in the back of his throat, a true-blue sign he’d just lost an argument to her and wouldn’t admit it. “Oh, no, there is someone new,” said Rufus. “He hasn’t turned up yet.” “What?” said Dean. He was Bobby’s right hand. He should know about any new hires at the camp. He’d made up all the schedules three weeks ago. “He’ll be here tomorrow,” said Rufus. “He’s bringing a kid of his own.” “What’s his name?” “Jack. Sixteen. He won’t be in your cabin, don’t worry. He’s gonna stay with his dad in that little Dacha up the hill.” “Not the kid,” said Dean. “Who’s the new guy?” Rufus shrugged, refilling Dean’s glass because he noticed it was empty, then adding more to his own. “Castiel. Snooty-ass name, if you ask me.” Dean agreed, frowning down at his drink, then looking over towards Bobby. Bobby was in good spirits, laughing at a conversation between himself, Sam, and Jody. “What’s he teaching?” he asked Rufus. Dean had already set the schedules, dammit. If he had to add a new program, it would throw off the entire summer. “He’s taking over Bobby’s stuff on Latin, Runes, and Hellspeak,” said Rufus. “Give Bobby more freedom to deal with whatever comes up through the day.” “He’s taking over— He’s taking over Bobby’s classes?” The courses Bobby led were a mainstay through the camp. As much as hunting was about physical work and reflex, a good part of it was also knowing your research, your lore, and your dead languages. Dean focused on training students in the former, but no one equaled Bobby in the latter. He couldn’t imagine Bobby giving up his precious instruction. “Bobby says he’s good,” said Rufus with a shrug. “And if Bobby says he’s good, that means he’s damn good. I’m willing to believe he’s some Roman Imperator if he knows better Latin than Bobby.” Dean had a brief vision of Russell Crowe from Gladiator arriving to teach at the camp. He shook his head to dismiss the image from his mind. A man was allowed to have a reasonable obsession with the movie Gladiator. “Showing up kinda late,” said Dean, trying to keep up his chagrin. He had an image to maintain. “What gives him the right?” Rufus swallowed down his smooth whiskey. “Real good Latin, I guess.”

[continue reading on Ao3 on Tuesday February 15]

#DCPF 2022 #DCPF Previews #destiel #deancas #summer camp au #alternate canon #timeline what timeline

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buckysbabygorl · 3 years

Text

Names

Summary: Y/N’s always the butt of Loki’s teasing and they can’t stand it, until the hidden meanings behind it are revealed

Word Count: 2k

Pairing: Loki x GenderNeutral!Reader

Warnings: swearing

Cowritten by @babybluereads

When the Asgardians had arrived on earth, the tiny town of St. Abb’s had accepted them with open arms. The community immediately took to caring for the newcomers and providing them with whatever they needed. Y/N, being the assertive and bright person they were, immediately caught the eye of the fighting trio that had defended Asgard in its last moments.

Y/N was quick to help where they could; taking on leadership roles and directing the townspeople on what actions to take next for the Asgardian folk to fit in. They provided shelter, food, clothing, whatever was necessary.

Valkyrie and Y/N developed a fast friendship; she liked Y/N’s confidence and strength, and they managed their people side by side. Thor adored most, if not all migardians and their customs, and Y/N was no exception. Y/N made him laugh, provided him with comfort and advice, and he contributed to the town in any way he could when he visited.

And then there was Loki. Oh, Loki, Loki, Loki.

Y/N had very little patience when it came to him; as a matter of fact, Y/N had none.

Loki was, politely, a grade A pain in the ass.

He was one to disappear for hours or days at a time; returning with no explanation as to why. He forced trickery on the township; amusing the children and the occasional townsfolk, but not Y/N. He was rowdy at the local bar; he was constantly seen partying, making this once quiet town louder than ever.

People adored him in town. Y/N however did not; they wanted structure, organization. He was chaos walking.

Worst of all; he felt the need to be glued to Y/N’s side constantly. He loved to tease them, get a rise from them first thing in the morning, he stopped them from doing their work, and it always left them fighting.

What really bothered Y/N is when he’d insult them in another language; which he did often. Something he’d huff under his breath, and when Y/N demanded clarification he’d simply laugh and walk off. Which seemed to be the only time he ever left them alone.

It was infuriating. Which is what Y/N was complaining about to Valkyrie right at this moment.

“I don’t understand why he can’t just piss off; everyone in town loves him, why can’t he go bother them?”

Valkyrie smiled, “Perhaps that’s why he does it; he knows you hate him. It’s likely the most entertaining thing for him.”

Y/N huffed as they lifted another crate, stacking them against the wall. “Well that’s just sadistic,” they said, “You’d think he’d get his rocks off on something else.”

Valkyrie laughed, but not for the reason Y/N thought.

“I’m not sure why my rocks are of your concern, but please leave sadism out of it.”

Y/N’s teeth clenched at the voice, and tried to ignore it.

Loki smiled, “No greeting? I don’t even get a “good morning your highness”?”

“No, you don’t.” Y/N lifted another crate, which was swiftly pulled out of their hands by Loki. Y/N sighed, reaching for another one.

“I don’t need your help, I can carry it myself.” Y/N stated.

Loki chuckled as he stacked the crate in its place, before plucking the other from Y/N’s hands as well.

“It’s my pleasure, I’m certain I can do a better job anyways.”

Valkyrie shook her head, staying silent as the conversation transpired. She knew better than to jump in: one, because Y/N could handle themselves; two, because the last time Valkyrie stepped in, knives were involved and nearly banned in the town square because of it. Out of respect for peace and civility in New Asgard, Valkyrie ceased her fighting. For now.

As composed of a person Y/N was, they were one to get easily flustered. Yes, their emotions were in check, but something about Loki’s teasing was especially provoking.

“I doubt it,” Y/N said, “Besides, how can you do a better job when you’re hardly ever here.”

“There are other ways to say you miss me, Y/N,” Loki said, “And I’m always here. You’re the one that wishes I wasn’t.”

“That’s not true, I just wish when you were here, you were less annoying.”

“I think that’s asking too much of him,” Valkyrie said, examining the lures of their fishing stock, “It’s ingrained in him.”

“Oh Valkyrie, I didn’t realize you were here.” He teased, momentarily turning his attention away from Y/N.

The warrior rolled her eyes, taking a nearby piece of broken crate and chucking it at his head.

He deflected it but turned to retaliate, before Y/N stopped him.

“Hey, settle down. We have a lot of work to do, and I need you two to focus.” Y/N reprimanded.

Y/N didn’t realize it, but they had their hand placed on his chest. Loki smirked at the contact, before Y/N swiftly pulled their hand away.

“Now,” Y/N said, “Are you going to actually be helpful? Or are you planning on wasting my time.”

Loki hummed before looking back to the open boathouse entrance that he had come from, “No, I don’t plan on staying long. I was only stopping by to see my melilla.”

Y/N scowled with a groan. “If you’re going to insult me, you could at least do it in a language I understand!”

But their complaint fell on deaf ears as he laughed, exiting just as quickly as he’d come.

Now it was Valkyrie’s turn to laugh, their minor conflicts always being of great entertainment. But she knew Y/N would complain about it for the rest of the afternoon; their work was already tainted by the presence of Loki.

Thor was happy to be back, he could only spend so much time with the Guardians before needing some space. He admired the team, but the arrogance of that Starlord fellow was sometimes too much to bear. Not that Thor made it any easier; he was quite the confident man himself. They’d butted heads far too often, and now he was in need of a much deserved break.

He strode into town cheerily; greeting the townsfolk with an overjoyed disposition. Though happy he was to see the midgardians; he was looking for one in particular. He finally spotted Y/N in the small farmers market just off the docks. In fact, he heard Y/N before he saw them, as once again Y/N was fighting with his notorious brother.

“You can’t turn apples into snakes when children are around, someone could get hurt and we don’t have a town doctor until next month!” Y/N scolded.

“Oh amata, I love how easily the simplest of things can make you forget yourself.” He said.

With a slight snarl on their face, Y/N groaned. “Stop calling me that!”

Loki simply laughed in their face, enraging Y/N further. Before they went to scream at him again, Thor decided to intervene.

“My Y/N! You seem awfully invigorated this morning,” He commented.

At the voice of their friend, Y/N turned and their mood was immediately brightened. “Thor! I had no idea you were coming.”

Loki looked at his brother with quiet contempt, “Of course you weren’t notified, my brother is known for making an entrance.

He turned back to Y/N, “Why don’t you ever address me with such kindness, carissima.” He said, dejectedly.

Y/N raised a finger to Loki’s face, once again going to scold him, before being interrupted by amused laughter from Thor.

“Well it’s nice to see that you’ve at least shifted to addressing one another with pleasantries.” Thor said.

Immediately Loki’s face filled with dread. Y/N looked at them both, surprised.

“You call that pleasantries?” Y/N asked, “He’s been insulting me in a dead language since we met.”

They spat the words in Loki’s face, but it was not met with his usual humourous demeanor.

Thor scoffed with delight, “I hardly think dearest is an insult, Y/N.”

Y/N was taken aback. No, that’s not what he’d been calling them, had he?

The expression on Loki’s face displayed nothing but truth at the fellow God’s statement, “Thor, please--” Loki said through gritted teeth.

Thor only smirked, intending to continue the teasing. “What else has he called you, Y/N? I speak fluent latin myself.”

Still shocked by the revelation, but not diffused in their anger, Y/N thought back to what he had called them before dearest.

“Well--he, he also called me amata.” Y/N said.

Laughing once again, Thor turned to his brother, “Oh, did he?” Thor asked.

Flustered, Loki tried to direct attention elsewhere, “Aren’t you supposed to be looking for Valkyrie? Or someone else to pester?” He asked.

Thor only smiled, “No I’m quite enjoying myself here, brother.”

“And as for the name amata,” Thor explained, “It means beloved. I think you’ve mistaken my brother’s flirtations for aggravations, Y/N.”

The three stood, not saying anything more as the passerby’s at the market weaved around them. Y/N snuck a glance at Loki, who was now desperately avoiding eye contact. Could it be that all this time, he was secretly calling Y/N terms of endearment?

He made no objections; only furthering the obvious truth that he had been.

Y/N didn’t know what to think, or what to say.

“Well,” Thor started, “I believe my work here is done. I shall leave you to each other.”

He looked up into the marketplace, “Joseph, so good to see you my friend!”

He parted, calling for the man at the nearby mead cart, while the other two still stood, not saying a word.

Loki quietly scorned his brother; of course he had to expose him. Now Y/N was aware of his secret fondness towards them, someone who already hated him more than he’d like.

“Melilla.” Y/N said.

Loki looked at Y/N, surprised by the word. “Pardon?” He asked.

Y/N hummed, “It’s another name, that you-um.. That you call me.”

“Oh,” Loki nodded, understanding what Y/N meant.

“Well,” he started, hesitant, “It means… little honey.”

“And why do you call me that,” Y/N asked, “Because I’m sweet?”

“No,” Loki defended, “You aren’t sweet. You’re the opposite. Um--bitter, and-and full of disdain--”

He was stopped by the laughter that escaped Y/N, but as he looked at them, he realized he was not the subject of their laughter but that Y/N was laughing with him. Though Loki would never admit it aloud, he found that much more pleasurable than any of the emotions he’d evoked from their banter.

“You aren’t… upset with me?” He asked earnestly.

Y/N looked to the ground, shifting in their stance with hands placed behind their back.

“Not entirely,” Y/N admitted, “I mean… it would’ve been nice to know you weren’t calling me an asshole this whole time.”

Loki chuckled bashfully, “Well, for that, I suppose I can apologize.”

An awkward silence came between them; not knowing what to say. It was surprising, to say the least, the new perspective that had been given to their situation. Loki’s need to be in Y/N’s presence, the constant chatting that what was thought to be filled with insults were now revealed to have been filled with kindness, and arguably, affection. Even on Y/N’s end; the frustrations of his disappearances and the concern for safety during his reckless shenanigans, were those too filled with care?

Loki cleared his throat to break the quiet. “So,” he started, “do you have much to tend to this afternoon?”

Y/N rolled their eyes at the obvious attempt to change the conversation, “Well if you’re going to continue being an idiot, then yes.”

“And.. if I cease, the idiocy?” He asked.

Y/N smiled, “Well, it wouldn’t necessarily be the worst thing, if you helped me with some... stuff down at the docks.”

He chuckled, amused. “You’re actually asking me to accompany you, for once?”

“Yes, I guess I am.” Y/N said. He went to speak before they stopped him, “But on one condition.”

“Oh?” He asked, “and what’s that?”

“That,” Y/N said, “If you’re going to compliment me, at least do it in a language I understand.”

He smiled, “Anything for you, dearest.”

First Loki fic ✅

Inspiration also goes to @damntonystarkandhissmile for the gender neutral ask 💕 I hope you like Loki babe 🤪

Permanent Tag List: @babyblue-07 @fandomsfallnomore @elliee1497@lonewolf471 @babybluereads @marianas-studyblr @godspeedlover@sexwithhiddlesbatch @annestine @shower-me-with-roses

@yougottalovefandoms

#loki #Loki Laufeyson #MCU loki #loki x reader #Loki Laufeyson x Reader #loki imagine #loki fanfic #loki x gender neutral reader #loki x gn!reader #loki x ace reader

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canary3d-obsessed · 3 years

Text

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed, Episode 27 part one

Masterpost | Pinboard

Warning! Spoilers for all 50 episodes!

First, brachium is Latin for arm, so debrachiate *should* be a real word. But isn’t, alas.

Fight Me

We start off this episode with the world's darkest dark overlay, which I have removed (along with the color) so we can see what the fuck is happening. (Gifsets are here and here and here.)

What is happening is that Lan Wangji gets a highly effective umbrella while Wei Wuxian gets the world's least effective rain hat.

We've all watched this scene 1000 times, right? Lan Wangji calls Wei Wuxian back to the path of orthodoxy, Wei Wuxian points out that orthodoxy isn't the same thing as goodness.

This is the first time, I think, that Wei Wuxian has directly told Lan Wangji that he is wrong. Up until now when they've argued, Wei Wuxian has either deflected or defended but not hit back, rhetorically. But now he's had it and he's just saying what he really thinks.

(more behind the cut!)

What he really thinks is that he, in failing to stand against the Jins sooner, has broken their vow, and that now Lan Wangji is breaking it.

Wei Wuxian finishes up by--sweetly, kindly--challenging Lan Wangji to a fight to the death. He says that he won't mind dying by Hanguang-Jun’s hand--that he won't be aggrieved about it.

I think it's important that he doesn't say "Lan Zhan" in this moment--he uses LWJ’s title. Wei Wuxian is saying that if he dies at the hand of a famous hero it'll be okay because it's not a punk-ass way to go out.

That’s a nice sentiment, and might seem like he's giving LWJ permission to kill him--but it's a threat, too. The wording is a little different, but Wei Wuxian has expressed this feeling about death-by-famous-creature to Lan Wangji before, in a previous conversation that also invoked their shared promise.

"Didn't we promise to practice chivalry and uphold justice together? If we kill the big turtle today, then it is considered as an act of chivalry. If we are unlucky and get killed by it, we still got killed by[...]a monster that's tens of thousands of years old. We still won't look shabby if it gets out, right?" (Viki subs, Episode 14)

I am incredibly certain that Lan Wangji remembers that earlier declaration.

Wei Wuxian's memory may be crap but he definitely remembers that the turtle he’s comparing Lan Wangji to, is dead. So he's telling Lan Wangji "you'll have to kill me to stop me" and he's also telling him "I won't resent you for killing me" but he's ALSO also telling him "I will kill you if you try to stop me." Lan Wangji has accompanied Wei Wuxian in battle and he knows exactly how deadly that flute can be.

I don't think that fear of death has ever given Lan Wangji a heartbeat's pause, and I don't think Wei Wuxian would expect it to, but this threat is his way of showing LWJ how extremely serious he is about following through on the decision he's made. And Lan Wangji, heart breaking, finally stops trying to change Wei Wuxian.

He also stops using an umbrella.

Water is one of the five elements, in Chinese tradition. I won't characterize what water means, because I'm not Chinese, and while I can look things up on Wikipedia with the best of them, I don't want to reduce this to any English-language interpretation, even in the unlikely event that I pick the right meaning. In Chinese poetry, based on my limited knowledge in that area, a single image can convey layer upon layer of meaning, based on context and the reader's prior learning. There's no way I, as an outsider to Chinese culture and language, can understand and explain the full meaning of the imagery in this scene.

What I can say is that this is a scene where water is pouring down, and Lan Wangji has been carefully protecting himself from it throughout the conversation. But at the end he drops that protection and lets himself get soaked. I don't think he's just being emo in this moment; I think this is symbolic of a philosophical turning point for him.

The Unburial Grounds

Wei Wuxian and the Wen Remnants (and the Wen revenant) head into the Burial Grounds, where there are skeletons lying all over the ground. They should rename this place, given that properly burying anybody seems to be a low priority lately.

Maybe these skeletons all belong to the horses they were riding in the previous scene. Sorry, horsies, everyone was super hungry.

Wei Wuxian says that he lived here for 3 months in the past and everyone is like, okay, *shrug.* Everyone has been through so much at this point that things that were too shocking to mention, before, are now just part of the landscape.

The Wen Problem

Now it's time for another terrible Jin party.

Jin Guangshan is so terrible, nearly everybody else is terrible; I'm not going to recap all the ways they are terrible. But let's look at the chess moves that are happening in this scene.

First there’s the Wen situation. Everyone is talking about the Wens and how they deserve punishment, and they debate whether non-participants who help participants are guilty. And the thing is, Wen Qing totally helped Wen Ruohan, and Wen Chao. She did it to protect her brother, but helping a murderer to kill everybody else's brother in order to protect your own is not, actually, very cool.

A better defense is that the Wen sibs were traitors to Wen Ruohan, and helped the Jiangs quite a bit. Wen Ning directly attacked Wen soldiers to rescue Jiang Cheng and was imprisoned and tortured for it; Wen Qing sheltered the Jiang core family at the risk of her life, saving the future of the clan, and was also imprisoned as a traitor.

Jiang Cheng starts to say that the Wen sibs saved them during the war, but Nie Mingjue immediately challenges him, asking how did they save you, and didn't the Wens annihilate your sect?

And that's the end of any more Wen advocacy from Jiang Cheng. Unfortunately, this is sensible of him. All it would take is for one rando cultivator at the party to say "You, your sister, and Wei Wuxian made a deal with those Wens to save your life; you ran away and didn't protect your parents" and that's the end of the Jiang clan. For Jiang Cheng, every other obligation--every other feeling--is secondary to the safety of his clan.

Everyone agrees, vocally or by staying silent, that the Wens suck and need to be punished, and Jin Guangshan moves along to the next agenda item: talking shit about Wei Wuxian.

The Wei Problem

This is the actual point of this gathering. Jin Guangshan wants the Yin Tiger amulet. The Yin tiger amulet is, currently, a spiritual tool belonging to the Jiang Clan, just like Zidian, or Baxia with the Nie clan. The Yin amulet is special, because wielding it is dangerous, specialized work, but the situation is still pretty simple. JGS wants a weapon that properly belongs to Jiang Cheng, even though Jiang Chang isn’t the one holding it. So to get it, he will do whatever he can to get control of Jiang Cheng.

He does this by offering his son, and his clan’s protection, to Jiang Yanli, and by directly pressuring Jiang Cheng, trading on long family friendship. And with Jin Guangyao’s help, he works to increase the conflict between Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian, pressing very hard on JC's insecurities as a young clan leader.

This doesn't entirely work as Jiang Guangshan hopes, however.

The thing about Jiang Cheng is, it's very easy to make him lose emotional composure, but his loss of composure doesn't really affect his decision making. He's *used* to being an emotional mess. He's good at it. He gets upset, but he still makes careful and reasonable decisions.

What all of the anti-Wei Wuxian talk does affect, however, is Mianmian's decision making

Mian Mian's departure has consequences beyond making her the only female character to survive this adventure. When Jin Guanghan lets her leave without a word, a crucial support is removed from Jin Zixuan's side: someone who has looked out for him and mediated all of his interpersonal interactions for years and years.

In particular, she's intervened in his conflicts with Wei Wuxian. The fight at Qiongqi Pass would have ended differently, if she had been there. Most likely, she would have died instead of him--she's a female character, you know I'm right. If she didn’t manage to de-escalate the situation in time, she would have thrown herself in the way of the fatal blow, saving Jin Zixuan. And then he would make that slightly pained face he makes.

Yep, that’s the one

The other person who is affected by the slander is Lan Wangji, who contradicts the chief fucking cultivator in front of everybody, while giving him a death glare for the ages. Jin Guangyao steps in to soften up the obvious lie, and Lan Wangji transfers the death glare to him.

Eventually Lan Wangji gets fed up and leaves the party without asking Lan Xichen for permission, which is a first. Lan Xichen is not a fan of this new side of Lan Wangji.

Note that Lan Qiren doesn’t say a goddamn thing during this whole party, deferring to Lan Xichen and keeping himself in the role of wise elder. All that self restraint must be difficult; he is probably really looking forward to yelling at Lan Wangji later.

Eventually Jiang Cheng has been harangued by Jin Guangshan for long enough, and says he’ll go to the burial mounds, and he’ll make Wei Wuxian turn in the Yin tiger amulet. This is a political decision, not a personal one, despite all the personal turmoil Jiang Cheng is feeling.

Seriously.

Jin Guangyao and Jin Guangshan are both very pleased with themselves, having executed this whole sequence of moves in perfect harmony.

They don’t actually know Jiang Cheng or Wei Wuxian all that well, however; nothing is going to go according to their plan. Or at least, not according to Jin Guangshan’s plan.

Later, Gator

Lan Wangji says goodbye to Mianmian and exchanges the secret fist bump of Wuxian solidarity. When we next see her, she will be married with a kid and have grown-ass men hiding behind a hay bale on her porch for no apparent reason.

On the other side of the porch, Lan Xichen and his sworn brothers have a super uncomfortable chat. Nie Mingjue admires Mianmian's gumption and is probably thinking he should marry her marry her to Huaisang.

They talk about Wei Wuxian and his evilness, with Lan Xichen being uncharacteristically outspoken by offering a weaksauce defense of Wei Wuxian, and Nie Mingjue being a massive hypocrite as he blusters about the importance of staying on the right path..

He takes a minute to lecture Jin Guangyao on taking this as a lesson, while Lan Xichen contemplates Lan Wangji's back, and worries.

Writing prompt: AU in which Nie Mingjue marries Mianmian to Nie Huaisang, then dies; Mianmian helps Nie Huaisang with his revenge plot, Mianmian cleverly figures out how to keep Mo Xuanyu alive by sticking his wandering spirit in Jin Guangyao's body after all the debrachiating and stabbing. Mo Xuanyu’s a nice person so he decides to go comfort Lan Xichen, so suddenly "Jin Guangyao” shows up on Lan Xichen’s doorstep wearing flashy face makeup and sexy clothes, ready to live his best gay life. I have no idea what LXC would do; I don't write the stories I just write the prompts; no I’m not smoking anything at the moment; anyway Mianmian becomes chief cultivator, Huaisang helps her with strategy and foot massages, and Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian go road tripping.

#the untamed #the untamed gifs #restless rewatch the untamed #the untamed meta #canary3d-original #my gifs #episode 27

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