#and your mother tongue is an old language no longer in use

[sadlynotthevoid]

Do you know those characters who always know things and talk in riddles and metaphors or telling everything in the most vague or ambiguous way?

Well, have you ever considered how funny it would be if the second was because of the first?

I mean, the all knowing master who knows so much is easier letting people find their own answers than remember until which point this knowledge is "basic answer needed" and from which point it is "horrid cosmic knowledge that would break mortal minds".

Mystery person who shows up randomly and seems to have something about everyone actually only gives vague hints and makes references to things only them knows because they don't remember what curious fact was of public knowledge and what was a forbidden secret they weren't supposed to know. The references are slip ups. It doubles down if the character uses excesive suspensive points.

Ancient being who only gives prophecies in riddles because mortal civilizations keeps changing words and meanings, and they have trouble keeping up with the terms in current use. They can't even take a little nap without having to speedrun through a dictionary when they wake up.

This means that if they are tired enough, they lost filter and start saying the most cursed shit.

"My head is killing me. Pass me the fae bone powder for the potion" *points at the salt*

This also means that their PoV is full of:

"what was the word for 'X' again?"

"How do I say this without explaining all that?"

"Oh. I wasn't supposed to say that, was I? Ups. Think fast, how do I pass this up as a cultural reference?".

Constantly trying and failing to traduce themselves to normal people speak.

[phantomraekens]

People on Twitter pissed me off, so now I need to talk about Kevin Day. With a new wave of "Kevin was selfish for leaving" discourse happening, I legitimately have to ask, do you all understand what a cult is??

Even putting the psychological effects being in a cult had on him aside, Kevin is not a perfect person. Nobody in the aftg series is perfect, characters are not black and white. This is one of the big points of the series. You have got to put yourself in his shoes. Imagine this:

You are 19 years old. Your mother was killed when you were a child by someone involved in this cult; even if you do not know this for a fact, you have a suspicion. The identity of your father is kept from you in an effort to keep you where you are. You are number 2, supposed second in command of the other members. You can not piss off number 1; you have seen what he does to number 3 when he is angry. You are challenged to fight number 1 and know that if you win, he will be irrationally angry, so you pull the fight and let him win. He knows you did this. He attacks you, and you start begging. First in English, your native tongue, then in Japanese, his native tongue, and then in French, the language you should not know. This implicates number 3, and number 1 lashes out and crushes your hand almost beyond repair.

You are left alone with number 3 there to pick up the pieces. Your mind is absolutely reeling; you are no longer useful to the cult like this, and you know what they do to things they do not deem useful. 3 will do anything for you. You know this to be true. You have to get out, and a solution comes to your mind: number 3 distracts number 1. It is your only opportunity. Do you take it?

Personally, I don't understand how you can read this series and not come out of it feeling incredibly sorry for Jean and Kevin. Should Kevin have used Jean's feelings for him to get out of the nest? In a perfect world, no, but this is not a perfect world. He was desperate, and scared, and vulnerable, and he did whatever he could to get away. If he was selfish, he would not have felt the insane amounts of regret we can practically feel radiating off of him during the series. Kevin is a victim, and I need y'all to stop overlooking that.

[cheezeybread]

Could I request headcanons for Scarabia + Pomefiore where they overhear their lover speaking in their native language with is neither japanese or english? Maybe they're cussing, maybe just talking to themselves, maybe singing, whatever. Here are the characters + some language samples:

Jamil - bangla: https://youtube.com/shorts/WF2LbzJDzD4?si=11V-UicSCLv8vySx

Kalim - mandarin: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_iUCZgObUDg&t=106s

Rook - egyptian arabic: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zsz0ou4VX2g

Vil - swahili: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tpol4TKeJ14

Epel - welsh: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ufKf4eORcKA

So sorry it took me a while to get around to this request, I've had it gathering dust in my drafts as I brainstormed ideas for it, hehe!

︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚

Jamil Viper

Jamil's first introduction to your language was when you burned yourself in the Scarabia kitchen. Touching a hot pot before he could warn you that it contained boiling soup, you cried out a foreign phrase to him

"Hauar pola!" You screamed, one hand clamping over your injured palm, applying pressure as you glared at the pot "Magir Puth!"

Despite his fretting noises as he grabbed the nearest first aid kit (of course with Kalim, Jamil had made sure there was a pack in every room) and fixed your hand, Jamil had to hide his laughter. He had just assumed that you were making up gibberish like Kalim used to do as a kid- gibberish to take place of curse words.

Once you explained to him that it was indeed an actual curse, in your mother tongue, he was a bit shocked. You mean you didn't originally speak what you were speaking now??

He'll definitely ask you to teach him some words in Bangla- mainly curse words, but if he can get his hands on a book for the language, he'll attempt to learn some "sweeter" words to use with you, if only to get a little bit closer to you...or make you feel closer to home.

Kalim Al-Asim

He's no stranger to different languages! Being in a merchant family, knowing many different languages was essential to business, and Kalim has had so many tutors teaching him so many languages- he's not entirely fluent in all of them since he never gets a chance to speak them, but he knows all the basics to have a simple conversation

He probably knew that you didn't originally speak the current language that you did in Twisted Wonderland, but hadn't really heard you speak in this "Mandarin" before.

But one day, while prepping for a party, he took a small break to ask you to show him a new dance- he wasn't particularly set on what sort of dance you showed him, he just wanted some new moves to use while dancing at the party.

To his utter delight, you grabbed his hands and tried to teach him a little dance that went to an old song you heard in your childhood- of course, since your song didn't really exist in this world, you had to hum and sing it out loud.

He's definitely going to insist that you not only teach him the song, but that you start giving him lessons on your language! He figures it'll be fun to converse to you in Mandarin, allowing the two of you to have conversations in secret, where no one else knows what you guys are talking about!

Rook Hunt

Ooh, la la!

He's going to run into you whilst you're in the library after class! You were sitting at one of the tables, half-closed eyes scanning over a textbook. Of course, you hadn't been getting too much sleep recently, so it was hard for you to actually read and digest the information you were supposed to. Which led to you mumbling to yourself instead in Egyptian Araibic under your breath.

Of course, Rook doesn't greet you at first, preferring to stay back and listen to your voice for a little while longer. He enjoys the cadence of it, the highs and lows of every word...it is truly beautiful for a language, is it not?

Once he helps you get to bed and can speak to you after a good night's rest, Rook inquires as to what you were saying earlier.

To hearing you say that you spoke a different language than this one, he was flabbergasted, but intrigued.

"Read me a poem in your own words, dear, in your mother tongue! Speak your mind, call me curses, list out your errand runs, just allow me to hear you speak once more!"

He's...strange. But he enjoys the foreign language very much

Vil Shoenheit

Hearing you sing to yourself while having a spa day with Vil left him speechless, for once in his life.

He had left you alone in the bathroom to soak in the warm, bubbling water, assuring you that he would be right back once he found a certain brand of oil that he suspected Rook had mistook as his.

Once he came back to the bathroom, your words sounded so...alluring. It made his hips sway with the beat you put out with a fist slapping the side of the porcelain tub. It was rather catchy, and he couldn't help but smile as he nodded his head to your tune.

"Oh, such a wonderful language, what is it?"

He's so genuinely curious about it all, and enjoys listening to you speak about it all- how you grew up, how you felt about your culture and language itself.

And don't worry, he'll be asking you to sing to him a lot more heheh

Epel Felmier

Another curser! Aah!

Epel absolutely loves the sounds coming out of your mouth as you lose your temper and let loose at another student bothering you in the courtyard, but curbs his excitement until he properly threatens the student with a good lickin' if he doesn't scoot out!

I'm not gonna lie, Epel seems like he'd speak Welsh if he weren't in Twisted Wonderland- it just seems to fit his character so well.

And, of course, he's going to ask you to teach him all of the swear you know, so that Epel can voice his grievances against Vil and some teachers without them being able to get mad at him (because, of course, Welsh isn't technically an existant language in Twisted Wonderland, soooooo the teachers/Vil can't prove it even exists unless you become a tattle-tail, hehe!)

Once he has his fun with cursing, Epel will try his best to learn some simple words/phrases from you so he can pass you secret notes in class and talk to you in private. He's...not the best at learning a new language, so be patient with him, but he's trying his hardest!

︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚

[mimi-cee-genshin]

Old words unspoken ‘til now: Neuvillette; heartwarming, spoilers from his story quest, 0.7k

Imagine you were a history and literature enthusiast in the world of Teyvat. You collected books -old books- and you tremendously enjoyed the archaic language written between the dusty covers. The terms used, the odd sentence structure as well as the punctuation were all hindrances to the common person. With phrases slightly off-putting to the contemporary palate, one could hardly persevere through a single page.

Yet you, on the other hand, would read these books aloud with flair and drama, causing strangers to raise a brow and your closest friends to share a knowing smirk. As you walked along by Palais Mermonia, quick on your feet to run a commission, you heard a word you'd only read in the book located on the third shelf away from your fireplace.

The word? An insult. The equivalent of calling a person a buffoon.

Of course the one receiving the insult was oblivious to the fact that he was indeed insulted, as if it never occurred to him that it could be anything but a compliment. But as you listened to him wail and complain about how a certain Melusine failed to meet his petty expectations, you understood the drama that had reached your attentive ears.

The great Monsieur Neuvillette was understandably upset.

You had never forgotten the spectacle. You tucked it into a corner of your memory, next to the lines of an obscure but cherished theatre script written centuries ago. The single word brought you back to a different world that separated you not by space but by time. Old Fontaine, with all its flaws, also contained stories of bravery and love in its pages.

Then when you happened on a rare chance to greet Monsieur Neuvillette himself in person, you seized the opportunity for an experiment. A harmless one of course.

You quoted a line from your favorite play.

It was a typical form of greeting when directed to a respectful gentleman such as him. But the archaic saying revealed a brief shock in Neuvillette's eyes, just as he received the completed commission from you. He continued on with business as usual, not thinking much of your words. Yet when another sentence flowed out of your mouth, he could no longer ignore his heart. His smile could hardly be contained at hearing the equivalent of his mother tongue, the mode of words when he first lived among humans. Your intonations brought him back to his early days with Vautrin and Carole, of small gatherings and outings with those he cherished. A warm soupy aroma had wafted from the kitchen of Vautrin's mother and young children had giggled with the handful of Melusines he first brought over.

And without knowing, Neuvillette replied you. He replied in that old Teyvat language, with idioms and speech patterns he scarcely spoke ‘til now.

Your eyes grew wide, and then were replaced by an even wider grin. With glee, you spoke to him the language you only read from books, almost a little bashful from the excitement in your own voice.

He asked where you learned to speak that way and you spilled out your vast knowledge of centuries old literature, those cherished tales of characters you loved. In turn, he gave you insights into the settings and culture at the time for each of the stories you shared. And mid conversation, you couldn't help but feel the urge to write them all down.

As the people walked by you outside the Palais Mermonia, you continued to speak in a way that was unknown to the expanse of the current human world. It was awkward at first for Neuvillette, not having conversed this way in so long. But the more he spoke, the more natural it felt, and the words and phrases on his tongue made themselves home in him once again. The place in his heart that was long forgotten was brought to the surface for him to enjoy once again. It was a marvel to behold how a mere few phrases had uncovered this abandoned treasure.

So when the day was done, and the hours had passed from the moment you'd shared your good-byes, Neuvillette once again reflected on his former years. They were painful memories, but there was great joy in them as well. And you had just gifted him with a warm experience he couldn't have foreseen. An encounter that led out a forgotten part of his being.

A place he called home.

Thanks for reading! This was pretty different from my usual writing style and format, but I hope you enjoyed it.

[arcadia-smith]

I'm finally publishing this. Part one is gonna be a short one.

(There are gonna be dark things happening later on).

Simon Riley x Reader

The Interpreter's Prayer.

Part 1

The bomb's whisper reached you first — a tremor through stone and soil, rippling like waves across a silent sea, before the sound ever touched the air.

Your gaze drifted across the room, finally settling on Basma Jazeem and her little ones, Sayid and Noor. They huddled in the corner like frightened birds in a storm, her lips brushing their ears with whispered words, and for a heartbeat, your eyes met hers — two women caught in the same tempest.

Basma was the key to unlocking their salvation, the wife of Nasir — a man whose soul had long since turned to ash. She'd struck a devil's bargain with the Task Force: her husband's downfall in exchange for wings to fly to American shores.

"Two hours until rescue team reaches us." Simon's voice broke through your thoughts as he settled beside you, his frame melting against the wall.

Lieutenant Riley had planted the seeds of this mission in your mind.

You speak Arabian and wear a woman's skin, he'd said, as if these were magical incantations. You'd nodded, believing Basma would open her heart to a sister rather than bunch of bulky men.

Now regret bloomed in your chest like desert flowers after rain. The abandoned building stood like a skeleton against the city's edge, while you waited for rescue and Nasir circled like a hungry wolf.

As an interpreter, you were a creature of quiet rooms and careful words, of interrogations conducted behind safe walls. The field was foreign soil, and this mission had watered those seeds of doubt.

"What stories does she tell?" Simon's voice pulled at your attention like a gentle tide. He sensed your unease like a storm on the horizon, but his faith in rescue burned bright as a lighthouse flame.

Your eyes lingered on the mother and her children, watching their faces glow in the dim light before you released a breath. "She tells them of Sinbad the Sailor, a tale of—"

"I know it by heart," Simon's words danced over yours like leaves in wind. "Mia won't sleep without it."

A smile curved your lips as you nodded. "I didn't think you knew the story."

Simon drew you close, his arm around your shoulders like a warm blanket against the night. "I'm always there, just in the doorway when you read to her. Never touched the pages myself, but those words are etched in my soul."

Words died on your tongue as another explosion shattered the air — closer now, its fury rattling windows and bones alike.

Nasir's shadow stretched longer, darker, reaching for you with smoky fingers.

Simon stood up, his hand extending toward you- a lifeline in chaos. "We need to find more secure ground." His voice carried the weight of steel, of certainty.

Basma's eyes found yours across the room, and your tongue shaped her language, Arabic flowing like water over stones. She rose like a startled deer, gathering her children close like precious gems to her breast.

Simon's rifle settled against him, an extension of will and bone. His eyes met yours one last time, a thousand words compressed into a heartbeat, before he led the way into darkness.

You became the rear guard, watching Basma and her little ones move like shadows before you, their feet whispering secrets to the floor. Your own steps fell into rhythm with their dance of survival.

The third explosion came like thunder breaking earth, so close it made the world tremble. Your heartbeat became a war drum in your ears, and your fingers found your weapon with the familiarity of an old friend.

Then- voices. Rough Arabic cut through the air like knives, each word a testament to how close Nasir's hounds had drawn. Your mind translated automatically: sweep the building... find them... alive if possible...

Simon froze ahead, his raised hand a monument in the half-light. You all became statues, breathing fear and tasting destiny on your tongues.

"Find somewhere to hide." Simon's words fell soft as snow, deadly as winter. "I'll seek an escape. Shoot if you see even a shadow move." He turned, his eyes finding yours over his shoulder- love spelled in the spaces between breaths.

Then he melted into darkness, becoming one with the shadows he'd always trusted. You guided Basma and her children in the opposite direction, each step a prayer for sanctuary.

The next explosion came like God's fury. The world tilted, spun, threw you into its chaos. Your back found ruins, and dust rained down like gray snow, coating your world in ash. Time stretched as your senses struggled through the fog- vision swimming back through murky waters, the bell in your head slowly fading to whispers.

Rising felt like climbing mountains. Your eyes searched the ruins for Basma and her little ones, hope threading through desperation like gold through stone.

One step forward sent lightning through your ankle. Your teeth found your lip, trapping pain behind them like a secret too dangerous to share.

Then- movement. Voices. Footsteps crushing debris beneath boots that had walked through nightmares. The dust parted like a theater curtain, revealing your worst fears made flesh: Nasir's men, weapons gleaming dull in the half-light.

One held Noor like a broken bird, her tears catching what little light remained.

"Where is the bitch?" English twisted through his accent like barbed wire, each word drawing blood.

Cold metal kissed your spine — a rifle's touch. Your fingers yearned for your weapon, but fate had other plans.

The rifle stock found your skull with the finality of an executioner's ax, and darkness rushed in like an old friend, wrapping you in its velvet embrace.

PART 2

[maarrgarr]

The Unknown Heir

part two

masterlist of the Unknown Heir

Gojo Satoru x fem! reader

Synopsis: The reader returns after being gone for two years and leaving her boyfriend, Satoru, without giving him a reason. But now she doesn't come back alone.

Warnings: English is not my first language, possible grammatical and spelling mistakes, murder, blood, some plot changes.

@mor-pheus @staygoldsquatchling02

Ryusei was possibly the most beautiful and peaceful baby you knew. He seemed to be quite intelligent and, luckily, he fit in with your sleeping hours: when you went to sleep, he went to sleep and when you woke up, he woke up. But, he was quite hungry, like his father. He would latch on to your breast and seemed to be able to stay that way for hours, in that way he also resembled Satoru.

When he was about to turn one year old, someone you didn't like visited you, your father. You remembered opening the door of your home, after the bell had been rung insistently, and feeling a shudder to see one of the people you hated the most standing there with a smile on his face.

"What are you doing here?" you asked him bitterly, he sighed in disappointment and replied "You're still just as disrespectful. I came to see my supposed heiress, although I could already consider you a clan deserter." He tried to pass your house, but you stood in front of him, "No one gave you permission to pass" was what you told him, but he just clicked his tongue, pushed you away and entered anyway. "I was quite surprised when one day your boyfriend went to the clan residence and almost wiped everyone out, just because he thought we had done something to you. I felt a little sorry for him, it seems he really thought you would be unable to run away, he didn't know you very well" you knew that what he was saying to you was meant to hurt you and he was succeeding.

For a moment, your father stood still like a statue and asked "who else is here?", you got nervous but tried to hide it "no one" you lied. A few meters away, resting on his crib after eating, was Ryusei. But, to your misfortune, the leader of the Mochizuki clan, had never been an easy man to fool, so he started walking in the direction of your son's room, but you didn't plan to let him meet him. You grabbed his arm to stop him, "I told you there is no one" your father abruptly let go of your grip and unexpectedly slapped you, "don't touch me, you are a disgrace, that instead of taking advantage of her power, she decided to flee. You are just like your mother and you disgust me".

Oh your poor mother, a victim of the clan, who had died days after giving birth to you, but not because of something in childbirth, your family had killed her. She had already fulfilled her mission of bringing the future heiress into the world, they no longer needed her and therefore she was of no use to them. That's how easy it was to get rid of people in your clan.

When you realized it, he was already in front of your baby's cradle. He was still, anodized, watching his grandson and after a while he reacted and laughed bitterly "this is really interesting" he said "so you had a son with Gojo" "Get away from him" you ordered him, he ignored your order and lifted the little one, Ryusei opened his eyes when he felt the movement, but he didn't cry, he just stared at his grandfather. Your father looked at you "you finally did something right" he said with a smile from ear to ear, "I won't let you take him away" you said.

You knew what they were capable of, when they saw someone with potential they exploited it, that's what they did with you. And while that had made you a great sorceress, it wasn't what you wanted for your son.

"Why not? This child is the union of two powerful clans, in the future he will be the best of all, therefore he has to be trained by someone at his level and that someone is me" he answered you sure of himself. "The only one capable of training my son is his own father or me, no one else. Besides, as you can see, he has nothing of Mochizuki, he is a Gojo from head to toe" you said while you snatched him from his arms, and hugged him protectively. "Don't make me laugh, I doubt Gojo Satoru wants to train his bastard! You know he won't accept it, because who would want to have a child with you? You are a disaster and you will also be a disaster as a mother, and that's why your child will also be a disaster and-" you didn't remember very well what happened, only that you felt a great fury run through you, and as your father's voice stopped and out of nowhere his body was lying on the floor, his head seemed to have exploded, the blood had stained you and your baby and he began to cry.

You had killed your father.

When you reacted to what you had done, the first thing you did was to clean Ryusei, who couldn't stop crying when he felt your nervousness, and luckily you managed to calm him down a little. Then you cleaned yourself and called Emma, a friend you had made who lived near you. You asked her if Ryusei could stay with her that night, while you resolved a small altercation you had had. Well, if you could call "small" having murdered your father.

After leaving your son with her, you returned home to dispose of the body. You took it to an open field on the outskirts of the city, made sure there was no one around, threw gasoline on it and burned it. You stayed there for a long time, waiting for it to burn and when it finally did, you went back home to finish cleaning up.

You were in a state of shock for what you had done, that's why you decided that your son would stay with Emma, you wanted to be stable for him.

Your father had been a son of a bitch all his life, but you had never considered killing him and of course you didn't plan to. Your damned energy had gotten out of control for the first and only time. You were obviously sorry, but only for doing it in front of your son. Your father never loved you and you never loved him either, so you felt no pain for his loss.

You considered calling Ieiri, but you didn't want to involve her, so you didn't tell anyone and probably never would.

You would take this secret to your grave.

[byghostface]

//long rambling

There is a vent in the last part (about pro ship:/+ wired shipping + block list) it's naturally negative so reading at your own risk.

So in the new Batman and Robin issue #7 Nika's sister making an appearance, got me thinking of other possibilities for sibling characters to come back.

Mostly I’m thinking about Respawn since he is Joshua Williamson's own character. And He made Respawn appeared in the last issue of Robin(2021), he also brought back Mara in that run too (just some appearance in the later issue).

And now Joshua Williamson is writing Batman and Robin, so naturally he can bring some characters back in this run. He had said in an interview that he might have figured out a way(try) to bring back Maya.

Throwback to 2022 of this old wip/art I made, is about what I think the emo teens of Lazarus squad dynamic would look like.

I imagine Nika and Respaw are irritated/tolerate with each other but would stay for Damian because Nika is Damian's girlfriend and they want to stick together. Meanwhile, Damian likes to include his half-brother in some fun activities (Respawn is acting reluctant bc of his own issues but he actually likes to have friends and feel include).

I haven’t finished this art bc I was going to add more wips (with other characters like Rose and Hawke) to make it a post. I didn't finish this art back then bc I was afraid Talia fans would be mad at me for drawing Respawn.

Trust me, I hate that Talia gets associated with Deathstroke like this, but I think Respawn is a confused/mistreated teen character and Damian (bless his heart and soul) still wants to be his brother regarding the whole mess. I will explain/talk more about my thoughts on Respawn as a character and his situations once I finish these drawings and get ready to post them.

Writing/typing words is harder than drawing for me personally. Drawing is like channeling my energy into a picture and forming an atmosphere and hopefully people will understand what thoughts and feelings I was trying to convey. Writing is using more brain powers to choose the correct and cohesive words, so people would not misunderstand what I'm talking about. Especially when English is not my first language, and even so I normally don't talk(write) much in my mother tongue either…(I'm not a quick thinker, it took me a longer time to think things through, writing literally exhausted me physically and mentally more than drawing.)

It doesn't mean I don't enjoy writing, it's just not my first choice to convey thoughts… but considering I can't draw everything I have in my mind and it takes even longer time to finish any art, I just need to write down things first from now on. Tumblr is the only place I can think of that has this longer text feature blog post and I'm more familiar with this platform format. So I will still be here posting my fan content.

.

(↓Vent, if you want to avoid being block by me then read down below.)

I must say I will forever hate respawn x flatline as ship, cus I know who started this ship and their reasons behind it—Don’t let the new character develop naturally as the story goes, let’s put them in made-up weird situations first so I can prop up my own ship!😍 And get both of the new characters out of the way, since no one would defend them so I can fanon the hell out of them by making them look bad all around!🤞 (What if I stone you first hand🪨🪨💥)

And I will continue to dislike/against any shipping Damian's sibling to Nika. I simply don't like the unnecessary sibling conflict just for romance tropes! So go away boooo I hate you‼️ Not to mention the ignoring of different age range multi-ship hide behind poly… that's straight up proshipping I hate you even more!!👎

Also for people who said Nika should be crush on Damian's mother instead of him… I hate you twisted proshipper rotten smooth brain‼️‼️ She dating a boy her age and has mutual connections with him, why would she crush on her boyfriend's mother instead?? Just because Nika is a big fan of Talia??? So you telling me young ppl can't idolize adults normally without being labeled as romantic nowadays huh??( Not saying you can't crush on adults, but why crush on your boyfriend's mom? ) Your weird ass mind is showing with this ass hc be fr. Again, why would you imagine that? You just wanted to push a fake narrative of Nika being wired so you could have an excuse to make Talia and Damian dislike her (which is not true), but in fact is YOU are the weird one projecting your twist thoughts/hate onto Nika‼️💥🪨🪨

I will start to block ppl who are shipping/liking respawn x flatline (+proshipper) and STILL interact with me, read the room!! My art is not for you weirdos‼️Go away BOOOO💥 🪨🪨🪨💥💥

Can't believe I need to type this all out cuz some of you weirdos will still do these things and think is okay to interact with me and my post/showing in my notifications BOOO👎🪨🪨💥🪳🪳🪳🩴🩴🩴

(sorry for venting about random weirdos/Nika haters again, and thanks for reading.)

[thatsmybook]

Just as Simon is disappearing and slowly 'deleting' himself (either deliberately or subconsciously) in season three in order to date Wille publically, so is Wille deleting himself in order to be the Crown Prince that his mum and the Royal Court needs.

Wille's decision to be the Crown Prince that Erik would want him to be is his goal this season because he has secured Simon as his boyfriend and his support. Though it's never been something he's wanted, he's decided to do his duty because of Erik's legacy but also because he wants to not be a burden on his mother.

As the pressure increases through the season from Farima, his mum's illness and Hillerska in crisis as a consequence of his speech, he slowly starts to conform to his role and we no longer see Wille standing up to the Royal Court. He starts to use Royal Court language to duck out of stating his opinions either to the third years or to Simon in private. The Wille we saw before, who grew to make the speech that took a political stance declaring some old traditions not fit for purpose, has disappeared. Being forthright about his own actions in lying to cover up the truth about his queerness, reverts to him towing the party line of: I can't choose to support political charities, or I can't take a stand.

Simon has stopped speaking Spanish at home, holds his tongue when talking to Wile about his feelings, deletes his social media and starts to not enjoy singing anymore. We have no solo song from Simon at all this season. We only get his recorded voice in a private song just for Wille's ears. This all, because he feels that he is becoming too much for Wille's world, and has to dial it all back to fit in for Wille's sake.

When both Wille and Simon make resolutions for their own sake, that is when they reappear.

Some of the audience were frustrated about this backwards step in both Simon and Wille's growth and personalities this season. Many thought they were acting out of character. If anything, I think the selflessness in both of their natures came to the fore this season. Both of them were thinking about their duties to others. Both of them ended up trying to fulfill their duty to the monarchy. But as Rickard says to August in the first episode when August says he loves the monarchy, "Does the Monarchy love you?" Theirs is a thankless and bottomless task.

They both dimmed their lights in order to assimilate. They're lying about who they really are. Their struggle with this I see as a metaphor for lgbtqia+ people assimilating to heternormativity in order to have a 'normal life'. Normal is what Wille really wants, and assimilating with Simon by his side seems simple. But it doesn't work. It's hard to fully be yourself out and proud in any big or small way with the Court standards of behaviour or in heteronomative standards of behaviour.

They both have the weight of the Crown on their heads. They both have the resolution to their problems in their hands.

As Elias in the song Revolution said in the closing scene of season one:

"Running, with the Crown on your head

A resolution written on your hands

And the lies they will hurt you no more

Human kindness deserts you no more

Let's start a revolution

How beautiful it is."

[mariaxxxxx]

Chapter 4 For now, we are married

Summary: To save your nation You are given as a bride to a sea god.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY/ Minors DNI, Angust, Hurt comfort, Sex, Apologies, Crying, Creampie, Passionate sex, virgin!reader, size difference, smut, soft!dom!, HEA, somnophille, slight degradation, duvious consent, pregnancy, arranged marriage, inexperienced reader, abortion commented, unprotected sex (don't do that wrap this thing), kidnapping, aftercare, curse words.

A/N: English is not my mother tongue. I apologize for any errors.

A/N: Reader is heavily implied to be Mexican but i tried to keep it as free to the imagination as possible

Work count: 2.006

Serie materialist

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

The next day your anxiety was making you dizzy. You couldn't eat anything that was there on the small food table, full of pies, teas and water. He shuddered when he thought about the great moment he would have in a few hours. One night. He had given her a night to rest and prepare to be presented to the people of Talokan as their queen.

The day before, You and him shared conversations for many hours. He told how his nation was very well developed and hidden from the evil eyes of the surface inhabitants. You told him how losing your brother fractured your family and how sassy you used to be as a child. Within hours, you and he shared stories, fears, secrets and plans for the future. He confessed to you that he intended to hold another wedding ceremony, this time, just You, him and a small Talokan group made up of family members and tribal leaders.

You repudiated the idea, claiming that you were already married to him according to the ceremony between him and your father. K'uk'ulkan mocked your words by saying that he had chosen to marry You and not your father. You shared with him the fear of not knowing how to behave in a Talokanil wedding ceremony; You were a foreign queen with habits, customs and a foreign language.

He promised to teach you everything you needed to know for the ceremony. He taught him just to say yes and no in his language. “That’s enough for now,” he said. You only noticed time pass when the first yawn came, then another and another. K'uk'ulkan laughed at her effort to stay awake and hear more of her teachings. When You decided not to fight sleep anymore, Her husband guided You to a private chamber where You could rest in peace. He said goodbye to you with a kiss on the forehead.

His heart palpitated and his face flushed as he remembered such an intimate gesture. You were surprised to feel so at ease in the presence of that man, no, K'uk'ulkan is what you must call him now. No longer a God, entity, just K'uk'ulkan.

The blue-skinned girls, given to You by your husband to serve You in whatever was necessary, appeared to groom You for marriage. You were washed, scrubbed, dressed, painted, and adorned in jewels of gold, jade, and sapphires. They whispered and smiled as they fixed you up. You would like to understand them for just a moment.

In your home, you always got along well with the maids who served you, making them confidant friends. They followed you wherever you went, being responsible for your physical well-being; You were always so grateful to them.

At a wedding held in her nation, a bride could not bring anything that reminded her of home. No clothes, jewelry or handmaids. A bride should enter her husband's house immaculate, wearing garments sewn by the firm hands of the priestesses of the time and jewelry carved from iron and wood. The bride must walk through the city with her blood family behind, always looking forward with firm steps and chin high. When she arrives at her final destination she is greeted by her fiancé. The groom should receive her with magnificent gifts. Then, the newlyweds clasp hands and enter the house where they will share a lifetime. The bride leaves behind her family ready to build a new one.

It was inauspicious for the bride's old family to visit her in her first year of marriage. A woman only returned to her family when she was pregnant; There she should be cared for and protected until the birth of the child, after fifty days of protection the husband should look for his wife and newborn child, bringing gifts to compensate his wife for the effort of bringing his seed into the world. A rude tradition, you think, her mother once confessed that she cried for seven whole days missing her family. “Your father had to be very patient with me,” she said.

You feared that K'uk'ulkan would not be patient. He had only been away from home for a day, but the urge to cry came with every breath he took. You were in a strange place, a foreign nation, with a language you didn't understand. The cry stuck in her throat could escape at any minute and that could enrage her husband. Stories of impatient husbands were not uncommon, and even though K'uk'ulkan proved to be a peaceful man, you didn't know him long enough to feel safe.

One of his maids muttered something, taking you out of his thoughts. A mirror was placed in front of her for You to contemplate the work well done. You were dressed all in white with details embroidered with black lines that formed the figure of a large serpent. They painted your skin with red paint with symbols unknown to you. Her arms, neck and ankles were decorated with gold jewelry with jade and sapphire details. Her hair had been braided and pulled into an elaborate updo, golden snake-shaped hairpins holding the braids in place.

She was beautiful, indeed. If her mother could see her now she would say that she is the reincarnation of the Goddess of love and beauty herself.

"Is perfect." You said in a whisper. "Thank you very much."

They couldn't understand his words, but they seemed to understand the gleam of gratitude in his eyes. The handmaid with the mirror walked away.

“Much Ko’oten tin wéetel. (Please come with me.)” One of them said as she made back and forth movements.

The wedding would finally take place. The handmaids looked at you expectantly. A handmaid approached You and placed her hand on your hip, giving you a small push to follow the indicated path. Without much of a choice You followed her.

Wandering through the connected caverns, You were led down a route that took you deep into the earth. His eyes were filled with wonder as he witnessed the irregular rock formations with sharp points being structured into carefully placed limestone blocks that formed a floating stage surrounded by blue-green water.

He was there, sucking all the beauty out of the place and causing all the attention to be focused on him. His clothing was extravagant and spectacular, making his masculine beauty even more eye-catching. On his head was a large serpent-shaped ornament with colored seaweed that resembled the feathers of a colorful bird. On his broad shoulders, golden shoulder pads with designs carved into hands made his bronze skin shine; Her ankles and wrists also had gold bracelets.

What caught his attention the most was his bare chest and his modesty being preserved by green shorts with white details. A cape, the same color and details as her dress, was attached to her golden shoulder pads, giving her an even more divine appearance.

You walked towards him. There was no one leading You, or, a procession behind You; breaking the marriage tradition in their nation. In any case, the ceremony was nothing like the weddings he had once attended. It was unique. In their nation, brides did not participate in the marriage ceremony. Everything was done between the groom and the father, or any man of greater authority who was part of the bride's family.

His father performed the traditional ceremony at his home. There was a contract established between them, You were prepared and given as a highborn bride to your husband. Therefore, the weddings symbolized the union of two traditions, as well as two peoples.

You arrived and were greeted with the most beautiful smile. You looked away, suddenly feeling shy.

“You look magnificent, my queen.” He said as he guided You to his side.

"Thanks."

“The shaman will perform our wedding ceremony, everything will be done in my mother tongue. Don't worry my love. When the time is right, I will dictate the words and you will repeat them.”

His face took on an even redder hue when they heard the words ‘’my love’’ being spoken by him. His presence caused funny reactions in her body, her stomach fluttered as if birds were flapping their wings.

The shaman quoted a lot of words that You didn't understand. When the time came K'uk'ulkan instructed him to say the words that confirmed his willingness to carry out the marriage. The shaman tied your feet and hands to represent the marriage bond, a vase with soil and seeds was given to You. K'uk'ulkan instructed you how to put the seed in the earth and give it back to the shaman.

Finally, You and your husband were placed facing each other; He recited words in his mother tongue and You repeated them when the time came. The ceremony ended when her husband placed a kiss on her forehead and the guests present filled the room with applause.

Hand in hand, You were guided by your husband to a chamber of black stones lit by blue fireflies, where a table with various culinary delicacies waited for You. You were introduced to tribal leaders, generals, ambassadors and chiefs of major trade routes. You smiled at each of them, repeated the gesture of bowing and said lovely words that your husband was willing to translate. They seemed to like the words spoken by You and your husband seemed proud to have You by his side.

After the greetings and introductions, You sat at the large table with your husband by your side. While he laughed and talked to his advisors, You carefully observed everyone present in the room. You didn't know those faces, You didn't know those customs, You didn't know that language. At that moment, the only one who represented your home was You, and whether you liked it or not, even with all those people around you congratulating you and wishing you well, you felt alone. She would give her heart for her mother, her father or at least some of her brothers to be there, to see her happily married or even help her with advice.

Her husband's hand fell gently on her arm, suddenly reminding her that he was there, by her side.

“Did something upset you?” He asked as if he could feel the tension and sadness in her heart.

You swallowed hard, looking at the rest of the fruit on your plate, as well as the still water in the golden goblet. He hadn't even been able to drink something to get rid of the bad feeling.

"I am fine." You said sincerely.

“Should I believe that these tears are tears of happiness?”

You hadn't realized you were crying, you quickly wiped them from your cheeks.

"I am really sorry." You said as you lowered your gaze.

“Tell me what troubles your heart.”

“I miss my family.” You said. “I know it’s been a little over a day, but I’ve never been this far from home.”

He leaned his body closer to You and wiped away your tears with his thumb.

“The distance can be difficult, but I know you will get used to it.” He said." I will do my best to make you a happy woman.”

His words made you spill like butter. Before he could say anything to him, one guest shouted a dozen words and the others clapped and shouted excitedly.

"What is happening?" You asked your husband when she witnessed the excited screams and exaggerated clapping. Her husband didn't respond, but the set jaw and arched eyebrows indicated something wasn't right.

What came next was a confusion of hands, arms and legs. You were taken from your chair by a handmaid and carried by one of the guests present.

“What are you…” You couldn’t complete the sentence, as the man carrying you walked down the stone corridors, with you on his lap, while your maids followed close behind. You tried to look at your husband, but the last thing you saw was a dozen men surrounding him.

[brciniac]

(  savannah  lee  smith.  ciswoman.  she  +  her.  )  did  you  hear  ?  camilla  bennett  is  stuck  in  stonehaven  for  the  for  the  foreseeable  future  …  they've  lived  here  for  twenty  years  and  are  known  around  town  as  the  brainiac,  though  back  in  high  school  they  were  better  known  for  being  voted  most  likely  to  become  president.  if  i'm  not  mistaken,  they’re  a  twenty  two  year  old  junior  studying  law  (  i  really  hope  that  translates  well  into  their  role  as  an  archivist  in  the  ‘new  world'  ).  according  to  my  records  they  were  originally  on  the  trip  because  it  would  look  good  on  their  transcript  —  which  checks  out,  given  they’re  intelligent,  adaptable  and  conceited.  if  you’re  ever  trying  to  find  them,  your  best  bet  is  to  start  at  bell’s  bookstore  and  listen  for  someone  humming  vienna  by  billy  joel.  oh,  and  don’t  forget  to  try  calling  out  cami  or  picturing  plaid  skirts ��matched  with  knee  high  socks  and  a  tight  ponytail;  the  scent  of  a  freshly  opened  book;  facial  expressions  providing  enough  evidence  of  internal  monologue  with  a  silent  tongue;  the  excessive  push  to  do  better  despite  being  the  best  you  can  be.  let's  hope  the  chaos  doesn't  get  to  them.

✗     𝖲𝖳𝖠𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖳𝖨𝖢𝖲

full  name  :  camilla  penelope  bennett.  age  :  twenty  two.  birthday  :  september  18th,  2002.  astrology  :  virgo  sun,  taurus  moon  +  aries  rising.  gender  +  pronouns  :  ciswoman  /  she  +  her.  sexual  orientation  :  bisexual  +  biromantic.  spoken  languages  :  english  +  french.  height  :  5'7.  tattoos  +  piercings  :  'stay  gold'  along  the  outside  of  her  left  arm,  sunflower  on  her  right  ankle  +  cartilage  (bar),  daith  and  belly  button.  allergies  :  lactose  intolerant  +  peanuts.  addictions  :  n/a.  drug  /  alcohol  use  :  both  socially  but  rarely  uses  drugs.  family  tree  :  jonathan  bennett  (father),  violet  bennett  (mother).  character  inspo  :  spencer  hastings  (pretty  little  liars),  rory  gilmore  (gilmore  girls),  monica  geller  (friends).

✗     𝖡𝖨𝖮𝖦𝖱𝖠𝖯𝖧𝖸

a  patient  child,  a  child  that  her  parents  never  thought  would  enter  the  world,  but  that  never  stunted  any  sense  of  love  they  had  for  their  daughter.  that  was  their  pride  and  joy,  someone  that  they  held  close  to  their  heart.  father  holding  her  up  to  show  everyone  in  his  agency  while  mother  would  pride  herself  with  photos  are  her  office.  camilla  bennett  knew  nothing  but  the  spotlight,  from  the  moment  she  was  wrapped  tightly  in  a  bundle  and  put  into  the  arms  of  her  mother.  

it  didn't  help  that  growing  up  meant  everything  was  a  competition.  if  cami  was  tired,  her  father  was  more  tired  from  running  an  agency  with  himself  and  only  himself.  if  she  had  a  headache,  her  mothers  body  ached  since  giving  birth.  once  old  enough  to  push  back  to  their  ideals,  she  was  no  longer  the  daughter  of  their  dreams;  they  saw  her  as  someone  they  needed  to  compete  with.  bringing  home  the  best  grades  in  the  class  wasn't  enough  because  she  could've  studied  harder  and  gotten  extra  points  if  she  dedicated  herself  enough.

she  tried  to  be  the  best  daughter,  bringing  him  the  best  grades,  having  outstanding  recommendations  and  even  joining  every  extracurricular  that  they  wanted  her  to  join.  she  was  burning  herself  out  at  the  age  of  fifteen,  struggling  to  stay  awake  during  the  days  and  drinking  coffee  late  into  the  evening  so  she  could  get  extra  hours  of  sleep  in  the  evenings.  but  it  never  seemed  like  it  was  enough,  her  father  saying  her  last  goal  could've  been  smoother  and  her  mother  critiquing  every  landing  she  would  make  during  gymnastics  or  ballet.

anxiety  became  her  best  friend;  biting  down  on  nails,  pulling  at  the  skin  that  was  chapped  on  her  lips,  pulling  at  her  cuticles  and  having  to  suck  the  blood  afterwards.  busying  herself  with  multiple  things  was  the  only  thing  that  could  support  the  internal  storm  brewing  …  that  was  until  she  hit  a  full  burnout.  having  fainted  in  the  hallway  at  school  due  to  dehydration  and  stress,  causing  her  parents  to  finally  get  forced  into  their  roles  of  parental  figures  …  and  mandatory  family  therapy  for  camilla  to  open  up  about  the  stress.

despite  having  to  take  many  steps  back  (no  more  ballet,  no  more  debate  and  drama,  no  more  working  overtime  and  studying  in  the  backroom),  she  didn’t  hesitate  to  submit  her  application  for  college  the  moment  she  was  able  to  with  her  transcript.  and  it  also  didn’t  stop  her  from  applying  to  one  of  the  most  competitive  programs  :  pre-law,  with  the  hopes  to  continue  into  their  law  program  and  follow  in  her  fathers  footsteps.

pre-law  had  been  something  that  she  fully  enjoyed,  even  though  there  was  so  much  to  do.  with  her  parents  constantly  checking  in,  there  was  obvious  worry  that  she  would  overwork  herself  once  again;  being  on  the  student  union,  debate  club  and  working  as  a  tutor  as  well  as  in  the  schools  bookstore  halftime  —  but  the  difference  between  then  and  now  …  cami  felt  in  her  element  and  did  not  find  herself  overstressing  over  the  small  things.

signing  up  for  the  trip  wasn’t  something  that  was  shocking  for  someone  like  cami;  although  the  panic  began  to  set  in  the  moment  realization  set  in  that  they  were  on  their  own.  cuticles  once  again  beginning  to  become  sore  from  picking,  anxiety  rising  as  each  second  passes  and  overworking  herself  seem  like  the  only  way  to  actually  handle  the  situation.

✗     𝖢𝖮𝖭𝖭𝖤𝖢𝖳𝖨𝖮𝖭𝖲

confidant  /  person  [  0/1  ]  :  heavily  based  off  meredith/alex  or  cristina/meredith  where  these  two  are  closer  than  best  friends.  platonic  soulmates  that  know  that  there  is  never  going  to  be  judging  of  the  other.  these  two  are  each  others  rock  and  they  listen  and  don’t  judge.

the  one  that  got  away  [  0/1  ]  :  based  off  normal  people.  these  two  have  always  had  feelings  for  one  another  but  their  timing  is  constantly  off.  if  one  isn’t  in  a  relationship,  there’s  a  situation  stunting  them  from  actually  being  together;  right  timing  is  never  there  for  an  official  title,  but  that  doesn’t  stop  them  from  grasping  onto  each  other  when  there’s  a  moment  they  can  both  fall  into  the  sheets  and  act  like  things  are  fine

sibling  -  like  friendships  [  1/?  ]  :  cami’s  an  only  child,  this  person  would  definitely  be  someone  that  takes  cami  under  their  wing.  they’re  protective  of  each  other  but  they  also  know  when  to  keep  things  secret  to  one  another  for  their  own  sanity.

competitors  [  0/2  ]  :  think  rory  and  paris.  they  are  unlikely  friends,  and  most  days,  they  aren’t  friends  but  they  push  each  other  in  the  best  ways;  a  friendly  competition  that  pushes  them  to  be  the  best  they  can  be.

ex  friends  [  1/1  ]  :  serena  and  blair  coded  …  cami  is  a  very  flaky  person  once  her  anxiety  kicks  in  and  this  person  was  someone  that  she  loved  dearly,  however  that  didn’t  stop  her  from  pushing  them  away.  details  can  be  plots   /   mari  flores  !

other  plots  i’d  like  :  exes  on  good  terms,  exes  on  bad  terms,  friends  /  enemies  with  benefits,  friends,  people  that  she  tutors,  roommate,  first  love,  unrequited  crush  (on  either  side),  enemies  !  

[anonymousdandelion]

Thinking about language, and identity, and community, and Jewish history, and of course When the Angels Left the Old Country...

And how, to me, the characters' relationships to language feel reflective of their relationships, identities, and experiences in the context of Jewish history.

Sit down. Have some tea.

Per the book:

[Little Ash] had come from Babylon and the angel, perhaps, from the Garden of Eden.

Uriel (under one name or another) has presumably been around since the beginning, or at least something like it.

And the angel's first — and, for a very long time, only — language is Hebrew. The original language, the Holy Tongue, the language of Torah, the language of Creation, the language of a people in their homeland.

That is the language the angel speaks; the only language whose words comes naturally to its tongue; and for most of its existence the angel has never felt either the need or the ability to try to pick up another.

The angel used a certain vague sense of superiority to excuse to itself its failure to communicate with humans. What did anyone need to speak of, it sometimes thought, that could not be said in holy words?

In times gone by, speaking only Hebrew might well have been sufficient. And maybe, the angel is not ready for those times to be gone. (Can you blame it? Who would be ready — to accept that you are no longer at home, and your people are no longer at home, and even the language from which the whole world was built is no longer enough to get by?)

So, somehow, it manages to spend centuries as the Angel of Shtetl, a place where everything is Yiddish... all without speaking a single word in that language.

...Well, no, that's not quite true. The angel speaks exactly one, single word in Yiddish, but it does speak that one quite frequently. If a name counts as a word, anyway.

Ashel.

The only thing the angel says in Yiddish is its chevrusa's name.

(Yiddish to call its chevrusa by name; Aramaic to study Talmud with its chevrusa; English, later, to come to its chevrusa's rescue. Talk about love languages, hm?)

~ ~ ~

Which, of course, brings us to Ashel. To recap, here's what we know about about the when and where of his birth:

The demon king Ashmedai, over the course of several centuries of the Babylonian Exile, had taken two hundred and fifty bird-footed babies from their mothers’ arms...

And it was also mentioned in the quote cited at the beginning of this post that he comes from Babylon.

So... in stark contrast to Uriel, Little Ash was born into exile. He was the last of his father's sons, which means that by the time he came along they must have been far, far into those several hundred years.

(And from the fact that the "Babylonian Exile" is described here in terms of centuries, it seems clear that the term is being used in a broader sense than the relatively narrow, maximum-seventy-year era to which it usually refers.

Maybe, even when the Second Temple was built and the people had a temporary respite from dispersion, Ashmedai and his family never went back home. Maybe, for them, that first exile — which, for all the people, would not be the last — never ended at all.)

In any case, Little Ash was born in exile, and so the Jewish world as he knows it has always been one of diaspora. And not only does he have a demon's gift for languages, by the time that we meet him he has very specifically claimed Yiddish as his primary language. And he's gone much further than can be explained by simply wanting to be able to communicate:

Little Ash, for reasons known only to himself, had adopted a Yiddish accent in all languages, around the time of the false messiah.

As the Jewish world struggles to recover in the wake of the devastating blow of Shabbetai Tzvi (the false messiah), as they grappled with crushed hopes and deep turmoil and sorely damaged community... what does Little Ash do?

I'm Yiddish, he says now, Yiddish meaning Jewish. And he makes sure to say it with every word he speaks, no matter what language he's using at any given moment.

Yiddish: the language of exile, the language of home. For Little Ash, as for so many of us also born in diaspora, these concepts are intertwined and hard to separate, in a way that someone of Uriel's background would find very difficult to understand.

Even so, Uriel calls him Ashel.

~ ~ ~

...Oops, I didn't make to turn this post into a half-formed essay. Hope your tea is still warm.

But, one last thought: together, in learning and conversation alike, Little Ash and Uriel both know Aramaic. Judeo-Aramaic, to be precise.

An ancient language of the Jews... but, more specifically, somewhat like Yiddish, an ancient diaspora language of Jews. And the language of the Talmud, which among many other things served as a sort of bridge; a way of holding some amount of continuity from the era of Temple Judaism to the Rabbinic Judaism of diaspora.

They speak Aramaic, they study Aramaic, and they share Aramaic.

[spoicyjuice]

Western Odisha gothic

Everywhere you look there are hills like sleeping giants

The houses are old, rotting and so are the hearts of those that once lived there.

The doors to old houses are so low that you have to bend at the waist to enter, what were they trying to keep out.

There are signs on every road that reads, "Elephant crossing", you have never seen an elephant. An elephant trampled your neighbour.

There is writing in a language you cannot read on every store, it is your mother tongue, you have to pay a fine if you use it in school. You no longer can even remember how to speak it.

The lanes only get narrower and more serpentine as you walk around town, where is your home.

There is temple down the street, it only comes up to your shoulder. You make a turn, there is another temple, its larger than your house. You pass the temple there is another temple besides it.

There is a woman she's wearing a bandni print saree, you walk past her there is another woman in a bandhni print saree. You enter a store there are five women in the same saree.

The air smells of algae in the evening you close the window, better not let what the river wind in.

Everyday your mother gives food to the bull, everyday there is a different bull, all of them respond to the same name.

every morning a van comes to pick you up for school, it has 20 kids in it already, the van also swallows you.

you pass a funeral procession; your friend says that seeing a funeral procession is lucky. You pray for the dead man.

the morning assembly has been going on for 23 hours already they still haven't gotten to the thought of the day. 209 students have fainted from the sun they are still on the thought of the day.

[anonymous-witness777]

The best compliments I've received-- "your writing makes me want to worship God more" "your work reminds me of the Bible; it has a surety to it" "I love how there's always a latent apocalypse behind your writing" "hearing that was a spiritual experience" -- all center on a quality in my writing which I believe is due to gifts given me in childhood. What some call Religious Fundamentalism -- whether it is or not, depends on where you're standing.

It is knowing that Jesus could return tomorrow. It is knowing that heaven and hell are real. It is cutting all the skeletons and Harry Potters out of the LEGO catalogue. It is wondering if that sound in your humidifier is a demon. It is praying for everyone to be saved. It is hearing your father pray in the language of angels every morning. It is your mother singing in tongues and then translating for you, all to tell you that Jesus loves the little children. It is Larry Norman and Phil Keaggy and Barry McGuire on the stereo. It is the experiential knowledge that miracles happen, that legs regrow and tumors shrink. It is prayers for sweet dreams each night, prayers when you go to sleep happily and prayers when you wake up from nightmares. It is rebuking demons on Halloween after you give candy to the Spider-Man at your door. It is the red songbook with the Jesus fish on the cover, with To God Be the Glory and Turn Turn Turn. It is Prayer Bear and VeggieTales and The Donut Man, it is GT and the Halo Express and Adventures in Odyssey. It is Young Earth, the pterodactyls flying above cowboys; it is Old Earth, the Big Bang bursting into void as Hugh Ross tells us what it means.

And now there's been some changes -- I've lost belief in Mokele-Mbembe, but gained at least a healthy agnosticism about Santa. I no longer consider Harry Potter inherently Satanic, but now consider A Voyage To Arcturus inherently Satanic. There's a give and take. But I stand on the same warm earth, rich with the promise of heaven and the pity of hell. Jesus is firm; that doesn't surprise me. What surprised me is all else that has stayed: the hippieness and fierceness and end-times-ness and the traditional and the subversive. Jesus Christ is the same yesterday today and forever, but even my childhood he has let me keep. At least in parts. And it strikes out like lightning on occasion from my words, and it isn't me, not really, it's my mother with her lilting lullaby voice that all the same spoke of heaven and hell and blood and martyrdom and love like consuming fire. It's she who planted these flowers which grow round the spokes of the wheel whose hub is God.

[mariacallous]

Georgia is home to 11 endangered languages, according to UNESCO. Like standard Georgian, three of these belong to the Kartvelian language family. But unlike the country’s primary language, Megrelian (or Mingrelian), Svan, and Laz do not enjoy official status or protection. Nor are there official figures on the exact number of speakers, due in part to persistent fears that promoting smaller Kartvelian languages could fuel linguistic nationalism or, worse, separatism. For Georgians, separatism is not an abstract concept: the country fought bitter wars in the early 1990s in Abkhazia and South Ossetia, two breakaway regions that Russia occupied as the result of another war in 2008. Moscow’s habit of instigating and exploiting separatist sentiment in neighboring countries only causes more concern. That said, language advocates maintain that their cause has nothing to do with secession and everything to do with preserving Georgia’s cultural heritage.

This story first appeared in The Beet, a weekly email dispatch from Meduza covering Central and Eastern Europe, the Caucasus, and Central Asia. Sign up here to get the next issue delivered directly to your inbox.

In July 2023, a new translation of the Bible was released in Georgia — the first edition ever published in the Megrelian language. Completed at the independent initiative of Giorgi Sakhokia, a 75-year-old Megrelian speaker, the translation sparked debate on social media. Since the Bible is already available in the Georgian language, critics wondered, why is this translation necessary at all?

Like Georgian, Megrelian is part of the Kartvelian language family, along with Svan and Laz. While many linguists consider these separate languages, Georgians often refer to the latter three as dialects. But the mutual intelligibility between Megrelian and Georgian is very low, Thomas Wier, an assistant professor of linguistics at Free University of Tbilisi, told The Beet.

According to the 2021 Caucasus Barometer survey, seven percent of Georgians speak Megrelian in daily life. The number of Megrelian speakers in Georgia is estimated at around 300,000 people, most of whom reside in the western Samegrelo region on the Black Sea coast. Yet, the language has no official status and, as a result, remains primarily a spoken language, seldom used in writing.

Melor Shengelia was born in Samegrelo’s regional capital, Zugdidi, and has spoken Megrelian with his family since childhood. But his younger relatives are no longer learning the language, he says. The generation of children growing up in the region today are becoming what’s known as “passive speakers,” meaning their parents speak to them in Megrelian, but they respond in Georgian — the language they see in the media, speak with friends, and study in school.

“[Parents] prefer that their kids know Georgian, and kids prefer to know English to use TikTok. [...] Everything is in English or in Georgian,” said Maka Chitanava, who’s also from Zugdidi and speaks Megrelian with her close family members.

The declining use of Megrelian has led UNESCO to designate the language as “definitely endangered.” This classification signifies that children “no longer learn the language as a mother tongue at home,” raising fears that it may eventually disappear.

“My nephews are seven or eight years younger than me and when they start speaking Megrelian, it’s so broken, they make so many mistakes,” said Shengelia, who’s 25 years old. “Even though they can understand, they can't speak properly. That means that their children won't be able to speak Megrelian.”

‘Languages die out, domain by domain’

Most Georgians rarely encounter smaller Kartvelian languages in their daily lives. Natia Liluashvili, who grew up in Georgia’s Imereti region, heard Megrelian for the first time while on a school trip to Samegrelo when she was about 14 years old. The fact that she couldn’t understand the language people were speaking around her was a shock. 

“When I came [to Zugdidi] and was walking down the street, I knew I was still in Georgia — but people were speaking a different language,” Liluashvili recalled. “I couldn't understand anything.” 

She also remembers singing songs in Megrelian at school, although she didn’t understand the words. 

Shengelia says he often encounters people in Tbilisi, Georgia’s capital, who are surprised to learn that his family speaks Megrelian at home. “Even though everyone knows that Megrelian people speak Megrelian, it’s still kind of surprising for them,” he told The Beet. “They just don't have that much information about [it].”

Then there’s the fact that the vast majority of Megrelian speakers are bilingual. As a result, they tend to code switch, alternating languages based on the circumstances or listener at hand. Shengelia, who has lived in Tbilisi for six years, typically speaks Georgian unless he meets another Megrelian speaker. In Samegrelo, he uses Megrelian with his family and friends, and in places like the grocery store, but he opts for Georgian when he’s in what he deems more “formal” spaces such as a bank, a government institution, or a hospital.

“Languages typically don't die out all at once. They die out, domain by domain, whether you use it in public, school, or at the doctor’s office,” Wier explained.

Over time, Georgian loan words have also made their way into the Megrelian language. According to Timothy Blauvelt, a professor of Soviet and Post-Soviet Studies at Ilia State University in Tbilisi, this is due to the limited written documentation of the language, which leads Megrelian speakers to fill in their vocabulary gaps with borrowed words.

“This is one of the biggest problems for the Megrelian language. It has so many Georgian and Russian words, even though there are actual words in Megrelian [with] the same meaning,” Shengelia said. “Sometimes when my grandmother and grandfather say [certain] words, I’m surprised; I didn’t think we had a word for that.”

Svan song

Unexpected events can suddenly and drastically alter linguistic communities. The steep decline of the Svan language is a prime example, Wier told The Beet. 

In 1987, a series of avalanches devastated Georgia’s mountainous Svaneti region, damaging Svan villages and killing 85 people. The Soviet authorities decided to evacuate 16,000 residents, most of whom were Svan speakers. Around 2,500 families were resettled elsewhere in Georgia, and the Svan language became endangered in a matter of years. The migration of Georgian and Megrelian speakers into Svaneti, who communicate with Svan speakers in Georgian, further exacerbated language loss in the region.

UNESCO classified Svan as “definitely endangered” in 2011. But Wier fears the language is now at risk of going extinct. “If there’s not a systematic sea change for the Svan language in terms of people’s attitudes and in terms of government funding and aid to communities, I think this one will die out, because its current status has just so drastically declined in just the last 30 years,” he said.

Teaching Georgia’s endangered languages in schools is one possible remedy: Chitanava believes that Megrelian should be taught in the Samegrelo region at least. “In Georgian language classes, we could have a few topics devoted to the Megrelian and Svan languages and maybe also Laz,” she suggested. “So kids can understand how these languages are related, what is interesting about these languages, and that it’s [part of] their cultural heritage.”  

Georgian President Salome Zourabichvili has expressed support for teaching Megrelian and Svan in schools. But overall, there’s little political will to provide any government assistance for these endangered languages, primarily due to the association of linguistic identity with ethnicity and, by extension, the belief that granting language rights could spark separatist sentiment.

According to Givi Karchava, the co-founder of the Megrelian Language Association, this attitude is one of the biggest challenges his organization faces — besides a lack of funding. “Any type of activity which shows Megrelian as equal to the Georgian language [...] is understood as separatism,” he said.

The prospect of Georgia signing the European Language Charter, which would mandate the necessary steps to protect and promote minority languages, provokes similar concerns, experts told The Beet. 

“There’s basically all these fears about the territorial disintegration of Georgia that some people have,” said David Sichinava, an adjunct research professor at Carleton University. The debate around language rights, he explained, triggers anxieties about a possible domino effect wherein minority populations demand greater autonomy. “That’s a challenge that perhaps is causing these languages [to be neglected],” Sichinava surmised.

“My personal opinion is that signing the document [the European Language Charter] or ratifying it is too politically charged and probably will be for a long time,” Blauvelt said.

A historical legacy

The widespread fear of separatism in Georgia stems from recent history, namely, the 1991–1993 Georgian Civil War, which saw intense fighting between Tbilisi and the separatist regions of Abkhazia and South Ossetia, and the 2008 war with Russia, when Moscow occupied the breakaway territories. 

These wars significantly impacted the distribution of Megrelian speakers. The hostilities in Abkhazia in the 1990s displaced more than 200,000 people, including tens of thousands of Megrelian-speaking Georgians who fled to neighboring Samegrelo and other regions. The 2008 war also caused large-scale displacement.

Melor Shengelia’s mother fled Abkhazia’s capital, Sokhumi, during the war in the 1990s and then moved to Samegrelo. Shengelia’s grandfather stayed behind to defend the family home. “People have this fear of separatism, [but] they have to remember that Megrelians were the people who were fighting for Abkhazia [to remain part of Georgia],” Shengelia recalled. “They don’t have any intention to separate from the rest of the Georgians.”

That said, the understanding of language as intrinsically linked to ethnicity has deep roots in Georgia, going back to the Soviet Union’s nationality policy, Blauvelt told The Beet. First introduced in the 1920s, this “nation-building” program assigned officially recognized ethnic groups — referred to as “nationalities” — their own territories within the USSR and promoted national languages through culture and education. (This policy was rolled back in the 1930s, giving way to political purges, deportations of groups deemed “enemy nations,” and Russification).

“The Soviet understanding is really still fundamental in shaping the way people view their own identity [and] why they view national identity as something primordial, something unchanging,” Blauvelt explained. “This question of dialect and language, and where these minority languages fit, is so politically charged, because it’s ultimately part of those discourses of ’national greatness’ and national identity.”

The authorities in Georgia haven’t recorded Megrelian speakers as a distinct group since the 1926 Soviet census. And when Russia added this category to its own census in 2010, only 600 respondents identified as Megrelians. 

‘We shouldn’t sacrifice our cultural heritage’

Shengelia says it’s fundamentally misguided to fear that promoting Megrelian could lead to separatism. “The Megrelian language belongs to Georgia and all Georgian people. By underlining that it’s only the language of Megrelian speakers, you are promoting this kind of separation,” he argued. “Megrelian speakers don't think that it’s only their language.” 

According to Sichinava, activists working to preserve Megrelian and Svan also share this view. “What’s important and what’s so interesting is that none of those activists say that we are different peoples. They say, ‘We want to preserve the language, but we are Georgian,’” he noted. 

The Beet’s other sources also felt that identity politics shouldn’t impede efforts to keep Georgia’s endangered languages alive.

Despite the challenges, Chitanava believes that shifting attitudes in recent years may increase the odds of maintaining Georgia’s language diversity. “Thirty years have already passed since our independence and our war in Abkhazia. I think this pain and fear of the country’s disintegration is less [prevalent],” she told The Beet. “We shouldn’t sacrifice our cultural heritage to these fears and phobias.”

Although not a Megrelian speaker, Liluashvili said that she supports initiatives to preserve the language — including the possibility of teaching it in schools — because it’s part of Georgia’s heritage. “It's our culture. Especially when we are such a small country, we should protect and save our diversity,” she said. “Language is one of the most important parts of diversity.”

For now, however, efforts to preserve Georgia’s smaller Kartvelian languages are concentrated at the grassroots level. In 2018, software developer Hary Kodua created an online Megrelian-Georgian dictionary to make the language more accessible to young people. At this writing, the dictionary contains 120,000 words. 

In 2020, Givi Karchava and Giga Kavtaradze founded the Megrelian Language Association with the goal of “saving the Megrelian language from disappearing.” Today, the group publishes Megrelian-language books, runs a magazine, and coordinates seminars. 

Megrelian and Svan self-study books are also available, as is a Megrelian version of Wikipedia and translations of well-known fiction, such as the Georgian epic The Knight in the Panther’s Skin. 

Karchava himself translated George Orwell’s Animal Farm and Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’s The Little Prince into Megrelian. “Georgian society and the state are more tolerant toward the Megrelian language now,” he told The Beet. “Let’s see what happens next. We are full of hope.”

[princess-pray-a]

Character Profile

OC Find her mood board here

Name: Elinor Loren.

Age: 20s

sex: F

Mother : Alive

Father: Alive

Siblings: Single Child ( her older brother passed away when she was 3 months and he he was 7 years old from brain tumor )

Relationship status : Single

physical attributes

Eyes* deer like sparkly eyes her iris is dark brown almond shaped with double eyelids , you can say it’s her best features slight dark circles are visible her eyelashes aren’t that long but it’s moderately long eyebrows are thinner but long if not taken care of they tend to join,

Nose* her nose are small , almost perfect button shaped slender and no crookedness, her next best feature

Lips* her lips are pouty luscious but small her teeth inside are not crooked but the front 2 upper incisor are bigger , lips have narrow arch and fuller bottom usually balanced and pale pink in colour usually said a kissable lips

Ears* small C shaped ears proportionate to the face structure beauty marks * on her cheeks perpendicular below below her right eye a mole is present in the line running between lips and nose many small unnoticeable moles also present face structure * small round face like a baby but with slightly high cheeks bone and a cleft chin , her cheeks tend to get red during pressure , embarrassing situations and heat

Hair*a little longer than shoulder length hair , it is curly but not that voluminous the hair colour is brown but , ends have orange golden ombré hairstyle usually side swept and like side shaved a twist is created from hair to give that clean look .

Height* Short about 5’2ft

Bodytype* she has a hourglass figure but her shoulders are big ! Her rib cage is wide , she has hipdips but over all her body is athletic if she keeps working out and maintains shape , usually between midsized to overweight us size (8-12) sometimes (medium to small ) body hair is sometimes present but mostly shaved breast size is Around B and C cup

Skin colour* pale skin colour like yellowish cream with no pimples on face veins are visible as green colour

Blood type* A positive

Allergies* from the fabric accumulated dirts and dusts

Diseases* Non for now but , she has weak ankles

Personality type: INFJ-A , she is friendly and sweet but extremely weary of people’s intentions , she comes off as innocent yet has a sexual allure to her , likes to keep her life private usually , extremely hesitant to ask for help , tends to attract bad rumors as she is secretive , sensitive and. Child at heart , affected by others opinion on her , always trying hard to better herself, a lot of panicking and squeaking , chatterbox when it comes to her favorite stuffs , dramatic and super reactive but can be opposite , appearing extremely knowledgeable due to street smart nature , struggles with proving herself academically, trusts easily , super emotional and romantic at heart , forgiving never holds grudge or fights with others rather leaves , she loves helping people through her skills always eager to learn new knowledge and she is really understanding , her aura is calm so people tend to be able to talk to her easily.

Social status : respectable family , mediocre household (money)

Skills : cooking , drawing, art ,singing , dancing , embroidery, editing pictures videos ,gaming , writing poems stories , and crafts , Hena arts, colour combinations , styling , good at conversation , good decor sense, cleaning , has very good intuition,

Languages fluent in English and her mother tongue besides that she can speak 2-3 more languages ,

Ethinicity : she is Aryan race but looks foreign where ever she goes.

likes : museums, fun parks, movie halls , people who are bubbly , considerate , honest, people who don’t hide their intent , goal oriented people , rain, forests, music, good food , rare objects, learning new things , saving money , spending mindfully , helping people in need with your skills, causing harmless mischief , cuddling , plushies, receiving thoughtful gifts , spending quality time rather than quantity or place , homely places , people who are supportive and hear you out , people who can hold deep conversations , understanding people moderate clingy people

Favouriate colour : sage/teal green , (plum purple , magenta red, azure blue) ( a mixture of pastel and deep pastles) she tends to prefer subtle over bright vibrant once )

Favourite food : Whole Foods , lean Meats (chicken and fish only) healthy foods , mozzarella, dark chocolate, strawberry, honey , nuts , papaya, dumplings, granolas, tortilla wraps, soups, cottage cheese, yoghurt, mushrooms , tofu , spicy foods , diet soda

dislikes: shallow people , people that don’t care of others emotions , excessive turmoil and pain , backbiting , too much bright and contrasting colours like neon green , clothes that shows arms and chest , revealing others secrets, people who cheat their partners, doing same thing again and again, feeling of being used by someone, feeling of being judged harshly , being forced to do something , people who don’t have the will to change or progress, people who step over others emotions and. Values , being treated as a replacement and an option ,being ignored , fighting with others , hurting others ( both intentionally or not intentionally)

Less preferred Food : she avoids all kind of processed foods or food in restaurants though it tastes good but her body feels bad , She doesn’t have any kind of red meat or fatty meats . No alcohol or smoking , she prefers not to have sugary foods but rather us uses natural low calorie sweetening agents , bacons , bugs or insects

Hobbies : traveling , explore ,watching (anime, kdramas , mythological adventure horror and sci-fi )listening music( kpop, pop, classical,pop rock) collect weird and rare stuffs dancing ,cooking

Asthetics: (dark and light )academia, royal core , forest aesthetics, minimalistic , authenticity, fantasy and mythologies , fairytales

Quirks:....

Habits: saying okieeee, getting silent suddenly when thinking too much during conversation, tee clenching teeth and smiling , blinking with eyes wide when she hears sth she is shocked to know or doesn’t understand , cannot make eye contact directly feels shy , slapping sth nearby to hide embarrassment, pouting when things don’t go her way , saying “ I dunno “ when angry or disappointed ,

Ideals: believes a power exists (rather than a god) that oversees the future and fate , we should try not to hurt people both physically or verbally , I don’t want to step over other to go higher. I would respect someone even if their ideals clash with mine if they respect my ideals too, i prefer not to degrade anyone even if they are my enemy .

Extra INFORMATION: has had bad luck with friends , people tend to misunderstand her , has panic attacks , is afraid to fall in love extremely insecure of herself as a person and body , feels like star crossed , loves her mother more than herself ,is from science background . Loves to fantasize a lot and maintain mysterious aura ,has limited human interaction . Hopes to never hurt others, if you hurt me i stop interacting and you are now stranger ,

**to be updated in future ! ( Its a backgroud i might use for creating a story for my oc where you could understand her better ) **

Taglist @queengiuliettafirstlady

( Want to be tagged ?? Do text me or leave a comment )

Want more content ??

Click Here

[mantismatsuri]

Self-portrait from a window

As a child, my choice was going mad with the light coming through the trees. My fantasy made me lonely because my pantomime was desperate and its performance was rebellious, unsatisfied, bratty.

My commitment to the bit, however, was absolute. I never avoided laying a heavy routine on a given person. Ass, gas, or grass: nobody rides for free. Wasn't that old wisdom?

I was a sugar explosion in a seedy alley. I would spill part of my food on purpose to operate from inside a mess of my making. During the neighborhood water balloon battles, I always hid around as a garbage bag, I was genuinely dirty, I really smelled.

I wanted to know what poor men had in the locked drawer of their uneven wheeled carts. Whatever novelties were out in the open would never call my name as loud as whatever darkness they had stashed in there. Better the devil, you know?

I knew everything about myself, but I always lied because it was safer if what was impredictable about life was me and not them. I knew the plan. I trained my memory to remember falsehoods through the decades. The offspring of my first grade teacher could not catch me out in the tale of what happened that Thursday, that September, that year.

See, I would bet on the horse with the freemason name. Is there no aid for the son of a widow? And I would whisper to the horse that his jockey is cheating on him with a mare. Horses run on hatred, and the bubblier their blood boils, the crueler becomes the wound left by the hooves on the weekend track. The horse with the blackest heart wins. Isn't that what gambling is all about?

Why would I cry about being clumsy when I can lie in bed without whimpering until somebody finds me weeping blood? I never liked anyone who was not touched by some shadow. I can feel the tempest in the heart and offer to crossbow their albatross of ill omen. I can also cook for a crew of burly men, and dance for them every night on the high seas.

I have pushed snake oil and turned a few tricks using it as lube. I have addressed large audiences and hustled after pensioners, charming them into sharing with me one morsel of their financial security. I also know a few dirty words in five languages, I have the most flexible tongue in my family.

So the nuisance you know as The other side, the scratched antonym of your life, exists and thrives, and I'm less than sorry to say that I find its rulebook more sensible than many a scripture I have worshipped before. I see the tempest in the hearts, I point at the rocks, wondering if the cave behind is big enough for us and the tempest. I mean, isn't hell empty since all the devils are here?

The other side has respectable families and affordable housing solutions. There is fast food and several possibilities for enlightenment. Children are born to their mothers in your same hospitals, but it is The other side what rears them when they don't want to listen to any authority asserted through control. Isn't that where growing pains come from?

I always knew, or felt at least. I suspected, and I stayed longer staring at the black offered by half-open doors when all the kids had run off already, on to the next kick. Waiting was mine. The expectation before quitting, when you believe this time you will actually not quit. And you feel powerful for once. And then you quit as you do, as you knew you would. The wave before crashing, though, gives you quite a ride.

I chose the fantasy and the dream of dark seasons while you attended mass and class. I have learned over time that by envying you I am exalting you. So I sing your praise painting your face on the walls of a room that I will burn down in the castle of my soul. What curtains would you like me to hang? As I remember, green is the color of hope.

———

COYOTE • 04.10.24