#hey cloud i miss yew

[yellowheartz]

I miss my fellow filipino friend who was obsessed with saiki k too 😔😔 The headcanons of how each character would speak in pinoy was so funny. So, um.. filipino trigger warning 🗣‼️

Kaido is definitely a conyo english/filo speaker. He was exposed to a lot of english content for kids. My boy has a hard time answering filipino exams and quizzes, and anything with deep filipino. (He has to really focus when the subject is in tagalog, he's barely hanging onto his grade.)

Kuboyasu is a hard-ass tagalog speaker with formal tones. (He only speaks the way he's used to when joking, swearing and gangster dialogue etc.) I headcanon he's pretty okay with english, maybe it's because his old gang was a diverse group. But, he's not all that amazing with english as well. (He stutters occasionally when reciting in english.)

Saiki would talk formally in normal tagalog but with slight english to be seen as normal since it's the trend right now.

Teruhashi would mostly speak english to be prettier, but would speak fluent tagalog when the subject is filipino. Everyone admires her for being so perfect with both languages. (She probably knows spanish, too) (She has a bit of an accent, but it's like fluent english with a slightly rough filipino tone).

Nendo talks slightly like Kuboyasu, but more vulgar since Kuboyasu is trying to keep on the "straight and narrow". Nendo does NOT care to regulate his way of speaking. He probably speaks english only to mock aircon humor. And no, he would not speak english during the class itself. (It earns him a lot of minus points on his grade since you are required to speak english in all english classes).

Hairo is really good with tagalog. He's not great at english. He speaks little english, and it always takes everyone a second to understand what he's saying 'cause he speaks deep filipino. (It's helping everyone improve their tagalog, and everyone becomes more inclined to talk in filo.) (He knows Kapampangan but doesn't speak it, and no, I'm not saying this because I'm half-Kapampangan... maybe..)

Saiko speaks fluent english with an american accent. He speaks filipino but only a little of it. Kinda similar to Kaido, but he doesn't really have a hard time with it. (He knows Bisaya and grew up Cebuano, but he doesn't let anyone know that because he's embarrassed it'll ruin his american-english reputation.)

(More coming, maybe.)

[elellan]

Chapters: 17/? Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age (Video Games) Relationships: Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford, Female Lavellan/Cullen Rutherford

CHAPTER 17 . NOT A SINGLE WORD

It was high time for dinner when she finally left her room and made her way to the Herald's Rest. Big, dark clouds were pacing the sky and the air was still and warm, statically waiting for the rain to fall. She had spent the afternoon in lazy unrest and every step she took brought with it memories of the day before: how the Inquisition forces had garrisoned the cave, destroyed the red lyrium and searched thoroughly every nook and cranny. How they had found the ledger and left the Hinterlands. How they had travelled on horseback all day long, reaching Skyhold only when the sky was pitch black and the crows were already fast asleep. How Dorian, Varric and herself had been forced to sleep in the infirmary so that the surgeon could treat their wounds best. Dorian had vehemently protested: "My own bed is the only place where I'll be able to rest. I will patch up my wounds with magic tomorrow!". But it was no use, and they had woken up in two cots, one next to the other, and Riwan had giggled in seeing her friend's floppy moustache and ruffled hair in the morning. She stopped for a moment in the courtyard and sat on a wall behind a bunch of trees for a short time, unnoticed by Skyhold's bypassers, covered by the rustling leaves and by the sound of the rising wind. Her shoulder and waist were covered with thick bandages and whenever she moved her arm the wound on her shoulder would sting and burn. She inhaled the stormy air, wincing for the pain, and gulped as she finally remembered how during all that time she and Cullen had barely looked at each other and exchanged not even a single word, save from a shy "Goodnight" after leaving their mounts to Dennet. She had tried to search his expression with the corner of her eye, careful for the others not to notice her, but all she could see was his chiselled profile, the back of his head, a stain of blood on his neck... 'Mythal'enaste'. And her cheeks flushed in remembering for the millionth time the taste of his lips on her lips, of his tongue, his metal-clad body pressing hers against the wet wall... She shook her head, muffling an exasperated moan - right now she would just focus on eating and getting a hold of herself, and as she entered the Herald’s Rest she was welcomed by a warm fire and a chatting crowd who made way for her in the line for the evening ration. "Please, I can stay in line and wait!", she begged Segritt. "No, Inquisitor, take my place. You've just returned from battle". She collected her food and carefully carried the full tray upstairs, where she hoped to find someone from the inner circle already seated. Two elves deep in conversation caught her eye before she could distinctly hear Dorian's voice coming from a table nearby. She gave the couple one last look - and then stopped abruptly. There, in their table, the one in the corner, near the big, cold windows, drinking and dining in total merriment, were Dorian, Bull, Blackwall, Sera and - Cullen. Dorian immediately saw her and Riwan shot him a questioning gaze. He slightly opened his eyes in an apologetic attempt, shrugging his shoulders. She wouldn’t move. Dorian looked around him and stealthily pointed towards Cullen, his eyes questioning hers now. She shook her head in panic. He sighed and raised his eyebrows again. She knew what he meant: ‘I can’t do anything about it, silly elf’. "Inquisitor! There you are!", Bull boomed. "Still in one piece! Come sit with us!". Riwan begrudgingly obliged him, sitting at the head of the table. "Mmm, this stew's delicious Riwan, eat it", Sera welcomed her, sauce greasing her chin and her dress. "Yes...", Riwan replied, her temper veering dangerously towards frustration. She prayed for her dark complexion to hide her ever more blushing cheeks. "Nasty thing you dealt with at Dwarfson’s pass, Inquisitor”, Blackwall said, “Cullen told me that you were an excellent cover. Ha! No surprise for us who always follow you around”. Riwan buried her head down towards her stew. “Thanks, Blackwall…”. “I was just telling them about that redhead we saw in Crestwood, remember her, Boss?", Bull said. "How could I ever forget her...", Riwan sarcastically said. She started eating her stew, looking sideways at Cullen: he sat there, seemingly oblivious to the utterly embarrassing situation they were in. He was in shirt and breeches, his arm hanging loosely on the back of his chair, drinking ale and actually snorting at Bull's words. He didn’t look at her and perhaps the redness of his ears and neck was simply the ale producing its desired effects. "Is something the matter, Inquisitor?", Blackwall’s scraping voice reached her, as her eyes darted around in evident distress. "What? Not at all". "Really? It seems like you're planning our Commander's homicide!", he laughed. "I am not", she said through gritted teeth. "What- have I done something wrong?", Cullen said, finally noticing himself Riwan's angry look. The others all laughed, save from Dorian, who studied the Inquisitor with knowing and amused eyes from his seat. "Not at all, Commander. Nothing wrong - that I know of". "Right, I’m- I mean-", he stuttered. "Is it true that you’ve been training your new recruits the whole afternoon, while Riwan and I cleverly spent it sleeping like logs, Commander?”, Dorian intervened. She mentally thanked Dorian and seized the opportunity of looking openly towards Cullen: he was pale and his eyes were injected with blood, probably for not having slept in the last two days. She felt something tugging at her heart at that sight. "Yes, they arrived just yesterday. They can barely tell the hilt of the sword from its blade...". “You could have asked me to train them”, Blackwall said, “Take at least this afternoon off”. “Or me!”, Bull boomed. He laughed thunderously for no apparent reason aside from his being drunk, “Not that that flat-assed Krem deserves to rest”. “How does he manage to stand you, I really do not know”, Dorian quietly remarked. "Let's go back to business, Cullen!", Bull boasted, Dorian’s words missing him completely, "I saw a fine one in your ranks too, are you gonna introduce me or do you want to keep her all for yourself?". "Who are you talking about?". "That young warrior, elfish, blondish, tallish...", Bull said, grinning. "Elfish? Boring!", Sera exclaimed, chewing on a bone. "Not boring at all, she was eyeing us while we sparred last week, Cullen, didn't you notice her?". "Oh, that soldier...". "Ha! I knew it! So, what can you tell me about her?", Bull pressed on. "You're rather insistent, are you not?", Dorian observed. "It's all about-", Bull began. "The details! Yew! We all know it, you always say it, ya'boring!", Sera exclaimed. "I can't tell you anything about her, anyway", Cullen laughed, "She is one of my soldiers and I don't even know her name". "Well, that's too bad. I thought you were the elfish type, Cullen", Bull eyed him and drained his jug. "I-uhm...", Cullen looked down. Riwan gulped, her eyes feverishly darting from Bull to Cullen now. She felt as if a fireball had hit her right in the face. She could tell that Dorian was starting to get annoyed too, though she knew not why. A clap of thunder made the windows rattle and she briefly rejoiced in the sky’s outrage. "Come on, Cullen! We're among friends here! What do you say Boss? Is he not the elfish type?”. "Me? What would I have to say about it?". She tried to keep her voice as steady as possible. "Let me replenish your jug, Inquisitor", Blackwall said, taking his and her jug and walking downstairs. "Hey! Mine too!", Sera yelled after him, "Piss, he's gone". Riwan felt the strong desire to open her left hand and unleash magic from the Fade on them all, talking one on the other, joking loudly and jesting as if nothing could trouble them. She swallowed forcefully and decided to endure it all for the moment. "Boss, you act so innocently but I know you're not. You can’t hide your true nature from those who travel around with you! Cullen! That girl kept staring at you all day long!". "She is one of my soldiers! You-you can't meddle in the chains of command-", Cullen said, starting to blush violently. "You don't meddle in the chains of command, you say... I recommend that you try it. And I mean it literally”. "Maker's breath", Cullen said, laughing unsurely and shooting a quick glance at Riwan. "Why don't we talk about something else? The weather, perhaps?", Dorian interrupted them, "Or... what about the poor state in which we found Adan a few nights ago? Riwan, any thoughts?". "Yes, that poor man! Whatever happened to him?". "I dare say he was drunk!", Dorian exclaimed. “He couldn’t be more drunk than Bull right now”. "You two, chickens!", Bull laughed. "Here you go, Inquisitor", Blackwall said, handing Riwan a jug full of ale. "And Sera". "Yasss", Sera said, satisfied to the brim with her dinner. Riwan took a sip of ale, clenching the jug in her nervous hands. Should she try and speak to him or not? And to say what? She watched him closely but he didn't meet her eyes. The others continued ranting on, save from Dorian, who watched the sky outside the window become darker by the minute as another thunder growled in the distance. "I must go now", Cullen’s voice startled her and made her flinch, "Have a nice evening everyone. Inquisitor". He got up and swiftly walked away, blatantly ignoring Bull's complaints. Riwan was shocked. She looked at his empty seat. Not even a single word for her, save for that ‘Inquisitor’. Inquisitor. After a few minutes, Dorian got up and whispered in her ear: “I swear I wouldn’t have invited him if I only knew it was a problem for you”. He patted her on the injured shoulder, making her hiss, and went down the stairs to replenish his jug.

[ohhsstylo]

Disgusting Days (pt. 1) [Murdoc Niccals Drabble]

Hey, here’s a (long) drabble about Murdoc’s childhood. And it’s going to be lowkey interactive!

I’m gonna post follow up’s to this with a Good End and a Bad End! Aksjajs please go easy on me, it’s my first time writing Gorillaz stuff-

TW: (mentions of) child abuse

It was a disgusting day.

The morning sky was overcast, and the lazy sun seeped through the clouds and right onto Murdoc’s face, like an accusatory spotlight. The grass was damp from a storm that had passed in the night, like the face of someone who had long since stopped crying, and it was that nauseating temperature where you felt too hot wearing a coat, but too cold without one.

Murdoc slipped into the playground, swift and silent as a ghost. He had barely been on the pavement a second before the harsh slam of a car door behind him made him wince, and the wind whipped his clothes as his father’s car sped away down the decrepit street.

Murdoc’s heart felt like it was wrapped up in chains as he slunk across the playground towards his classroom. His hands hid deep in his pockets, fiddling with the holes in the fabric, while his shoulders hugged his ears. He kept his head down, barely lifting his eyes high enough to see where he was going. 

He didn’t want the world to see him. He didn’t want to see the world. Not like this. Not with the tear stains on his cheeks and the giant purple bruise covering his eye.

Murdoc often arrived at and left school with scratches and bruises and bumps. But he’d never looked this bad. Well, he’d never been outside looking this bad, anyway.

He’d attempted to hide it, but nothing worked. The make-up his father used on him before those disgraceful performances was locked away, and god knows what would happen if he was caught trying to take it. And Murdoc’s hair simply wasn’t long enough to cover the unsightly bruise.

That didn’t stop him from trying though. He’d hurt his head earlier that morning trying to force his fringe to reach his cheek. He’d ended up reluctantly leaving it pulled down in an awkward triangle, covering his eye but leaving a distinctive purple ring sticking out from underneath it.

But anything was better than nothing, he thought.

As he crossed the dinted tarmac, the sickening white sky felt like it was suffocating him. When he reached his classroom, no one was stood outside of it, and it felt like it was the first time he had gotten to breathe that morning. He leaned his hunched shoulder against the cold brick wall, hiding himself in the shadows, wishing he could just blend in with them and disappear. Murdoc squeezed his eyes shut, trying to avoid the tears pricking the corners of them, only to wince at the sudden pain, making it even harder.

It was then that he felt a presence in front of him. He felt his throat grow tight as he pried open his damp eyes.

Stood in front of him, hands locked to his hips, was Tony Chopper, a intimidating lump of a boy, with two cronies stood either side of him, considerably smaller and less meaty than him. The three of them moved in on Murdoc like a flock of hungry vultures, and they caged him against the wall from all sides. Their eyes looked glassy and their teeth seemed abnormally sharp through their twisted smiles.

“Oi, faceache.” Tony spat. “Why’s your eye purple, eh?” Murdoc didn’t reply. His gaze stayed glued to the ground, as Tony moved closer, grumbling in his face. “You were ugly enough, you dint ‘ave to go and make it worse.”

Tony and the boys stood at his sides began to laugh, and Murdoc’s fists started to tense at the spiteful sound. He could just about see their faces out of the corner of his eye, and that alone made a pit of pure fire start to stoke in his stomach.

“Maybe it’s just eyeshadow.” Said the boy to his left. The boy to his right made a noise in agreement. 

“Yeah. Maybe Murdoc wears make-up.”

Murdoc could feel the fire making it’s way up his chest and into his throat, as Tony opened his mouth again, feigning a realisation.

“Ohhh,” he began. “No, I know.” He placed a grubby hand on Murdoc’s forehead, yanking him back by the hair and exposing his busted eye. “Ohhh, did your daddy hit you again, faceache?” Murdoc gritted his teeth. “Little twat like you. No wonder he hurts you. I’d hate having you for a kid, too.” Murdoc could feel the fire in his fists now... he felt it behind his eyes, pure hate framed by the unsightly bruise. “You’re obviously a bad son. He’d have no reason otherwise. You obviously deserve it.”

Murdoc couldn’t contain the fire anymore. It was burning him alive, it had been for years, and like fuck he was gonna let these bullies avoid it any longer.

He lunged at Tony, tackling him to the ground. He scratched and kicked and hit, sending the other two boys running for a teacher.

“You twat! He has no fucking reason! I’ve done nothing! I’ve done nothing to him! Or you! You’re always a prick to me! What’s your reason? What’s anyone’s reason?! What did I do?!” His tears turned to steam on his burning face, the pain all over his body only adding fuel to the flames. “Tell me! Tell me you prick!”

By this time a crowd had gathered, but they were quickly cut through by a teacher, frantically being led by Tony’s accomplices.

“What’s going on? What happened?” She stammered. When all she saw was Tony on the floor being yelled at and pummelled by Murdoc, she had all she needed to make an assumption. She grabbed a kicking and screaming Murdoc by the underarms and dragged him off Tony, who began dramatically gasping for air.

“He attacked me, miss!” Tony exclaimed, clutching his chest.

“He did, miss! He did!”

“We seen it!”

“Fucked if I did!” Murdoc yelled, only able to see red. The teacher had put him down on the ground by now, but she had a grip on his arm, which she promptly tightened.

“Murdoc Niccals, watch that disgusting language!”

“I think he should be expelled, miss!” Tony uttered, standing up with an exaggerated wobble.

“We’ll be the ones who decide things like that.” She said firmly, before yanking Murdoc’s arm again to pull him to attention. “Although, this will definitely have consequences. We have no choice but to contact your father.”

And then, the red haze in Murdoc’s eyes faded to grey. His world began to spin. Tony, and all of the other kids began to whisper and giggle.

“N-no, miss, please don’t- miss, I promise I’ll have detentions for a month- 2 months- just, don’t tell him-“

“Sorry, Murdoc. I have no choice.”

She stared at him. He stared at her, his eyes deep and filled with 50 different emotions. His swollen, purple eye seemed even more prominent now, and the teacher sniffed. This kid must get in a lot of fights the school didn’t know about.

If only his father would do something about that.

Murdoc’s mouth tasted like blood as he was dragged to the headteacher’s office.

Murdoc held a cold hand to his face, over the area many bruises had sat before. The mouth of the bottle in his hand pressed hard against his lips as the bitter liquid slid down his throat. He pulled the bottle away with a sigh, and hunched over where he was on the edge of his bed.

His own personal painkiller.

“Why that memory?” Murdoc asked himself. “Why that? Why now?”

Murdoc didn’t know what to think. Were the new tears in his eyes from anger, sorrow, fear..? Was the alcohol warping everything? Nothing seemed real and he couldn’t quite decide if that was good or bad.

It was a disgusting day. It was a disgusting life.

The only thing that broke his twisted train of thought was a sudden soft knocking on his door.

“Murdoc?” Came a familiar, nasally voice. “What ya doin?”

“Go away, 2D!” He yelled, his throat scratchy and strained.

But in spite of everything, Murdoc heard his door creak open, and the familiar voice sounded louder.

“Murdoc, are yew cryin..?”

Fuck, was he being that loud..?