#kevin: oh you speak french?

[konchitsya-leto]

Andrew, holding a knife: Kevin, where the fuck are you hiding?

Andrew: i'm going to find you anyway!

Kevin:

Andrew: Kevin, come out!

Kevin from somewhere on the ceiling, confused: i'm bisexual

[michelangelos-last-judgement]

My guiltiest pleasure is fantasising about a AFTG AU where everything is the same except the monsters - Neil, Kevin, Andrew, Aaron, Nicky (consequentially Erik) (and Jean because I say so) - are girls.

Why does no one else get a genderbend? Because it's my fucked up fantasy and I get to decide who's a girl

[deeppenguinstudent]

Jean finally telling catalina about the Nest and he speaks about Kevin and she's like oh I didn't know you guys were a thing and Jean is just like oh no we weren't he's straight.

then catalina looks him in the eyes and is like he told you not to kill yourself because he couldn't live without you? He literally wrapped your wounds everytime you got injured? He LEARNED French so you don't forget how to speak it??? He helped you shower whenever you were too injured to do it?? AND HE SAYS HES STRAIGHT??

And then Jean's like oh no he didn't help me shower we showered together and he shampooed my hair if my arms were too battered and bruised.

Then catalina sits down and genuinely contemplates whether the worst part of the Nest was riko or whatever the fuck Kevin and Jean's got going on

[andriel-islife]

Welcome to my TedTalk of my favorite aftg recurring event: people reacting to Neil’s languages.

First the monsters reacting to Neil’s French

“He wished he could take some satisfaction in the shell-shocked looks the language and his furious tone earned…It was an age before anyone responded. Nicky was too busy gaping at Neil to say anything, and Aaron was staring at Kevin as he waited for a translation. Andrew’s surprise gave way to what a fool might mistake for delight and he leaned forward on the desk. “Wow another one of Neil’s many talents. How many can one man have?””

This scene is funny because unproblematic and ordinary Neil Josten just busts into their dorm room with no explanation and starts speaking in angry French. (And Andrew’s “you’re interesting to me” without actually saying so.)

Andrew and Wymack discovering Neil’s German. (Only Andrew reacts but it’s important to remember Wymack heard the German as well(for later))

“That wiped the irritation off Andrew’s face. It was forever before Andrew answered in German. “That’s unexpected. Did no one tell you I hate surprises?”…”how many languages do you speak, runaway?””

We love seeing through Andrews medication to his true feelings(surprise). And then this being followed by a civil conversation of Neil’s true past and Andrew’s reactions. Is this really the love hate(mostly hate)TFC andriel dynamic we loved for half a book.

The upperclassmen+Wymack finding out about Neil’s French (only Wymack's response but, again, important to know the upper classmen hear his French.)

He didn’t realize what he’d done wrong until he felt Wymack’s piercing stare. Andrew’s lot new Neil spoke French…But Wymack, like Andrew, had also heard Neil speak fluent German. Neil ground his teeth and refused to return Wymack’s look.”

Wymack hadn’t reacted to the German because of the situation but he probably also didn’t feel the need to respond to yet another one of his kids having a second language. But apparently bilingual is where he draws the line for languages. Neil ���multilingual” Josten had Wymack questioning who he really was and why his second and third languages happened to be those already present in his team.

Upperclassmen, Nicky, Aaron, and Kevin finding out about Neil’s German (thanks to Andrew being Andrew)

““Oh shit,” Nicky said, switching languages in a heartbeat. “Since when do you speak German? Andrew, you knew about this? Why didn’t you tell us?”…Aaron looked at Neil. “When were you going to tell us?”…Down the hall the upperclassmen stared at them in disbelief. Matt was the first to get his tongue back, but the best he came up with was, “I thought you spoke French. That was French this morning right?…”

Aaron being the king of not caring about things concerning Neil.

Last but not least(if I remember correctly) Jean reacting to Neil’s French.

“Jean wasn’t expecting him to understand them and shot Neil a startled look.”

This startling Jean was funny. How can one be anymore scared when sitting next to Riko Moriyama. And Neil letting his attitude get the best of him in not only English but also French. He was on a roll and he wasn’t going to let a language switch stop him.

[camelotsstuff]

au in which andrew is a linguistics major, and neil who is a math major and is completely whipped for andrew, tries to impress him and fails miserably:

andrew walks around neil’s dorm room, surveying the shelves of books lined up perfectly by edition.

“you have two copies of peter pan.” andrew says, sliding one off the shelf.

neil clears his throat. “yeah one of them is english and the other is french.”

“french”

neil nods. “yeah i learned it from my mother. i’m quite a fan of french literature.”

“i wasn’t aware peter pan was considered french literature.”

“oh, sure. with a name like peter?”

“peter is a greek name.”

neil grins. “so is andrew.”

“why french literature then?” andrew continues, unimpressed.

“i don’t know. it’s less pretentious,” he shrugs.

andrew picks up a book from the top of a stack on the nightstand, “and…anna karenina isn’t pretentious?”

“well that depends who’s reading it and why. if i told you i read it to help me fall asleep you wouldn’t call me pretentious would you.”

“do you?”

“do i what.”

“read anna karenina to help you fall asleep.”

“oh god no, that’s what les mis is for.”

andrew furrows his eyes. “you just said that you liked french literature.”

neil starts fidgeting with his fingers. “yeah, i was talking more like the little prince and uh… peter pan.”

andrew hums.

“neil, do you know where your name comes from?”

neil shakes his head.

“it’s scottish. you know what else is scottish?”

“whiskey?”

“peter pan.”

beil laughs nervously, “go figure.”

“this isn’t your room is it.”

neil sighs, “it’d kevins.”

“and im guessing you’re not a lit major.”

neil shakes his head. “but, the part of me speaking french wasn’t a lie. I do.”

“terrific.”

[codename-adler]

Oohhh a French speaking AFTG fan!

Can I ask what’s the general opinion on the Marseille accent? What do Canadians think of it? Is it fancy? Or rough?

ouhh what a question anon! i'm tagging @givemethedamnflowers so she can help me out too if u want to <3

also i don't speak for all Franco Canadians / Québécois. fiy. ya know.

as a Québécoise first and foremost (Canadian comes 2nd in how i view my identity), and as someone WHO HAS A MOREAU FROM MARSEILLES in my close family, i love the accent. to me it's somehow much less grating than the Parisian accent (not the international French accent, that one's ok) despite being much more pronounced and how do you say... quirky? not weird, but like it's definitely peculiar. special! i like it a lot. it also makes me love Jean Moreau even more because it adds character, an edge, another area of fondness. i personally think it's very easy to spot, but contrary to the north of France, it's easier to understand.

i would say the most northern accents are much rougher, more difficult to understand than Marseilles or Paris, also because of the disparity in colloquialisms and regional expressions. but i do love them so. Bourgogne?? Normandie?? oh how lovely. and then down down down down south, neighbor to Marseilles, l'Occitanie (a fave)!!! oh and la Corse!!! so so beautiful to me. music to my ears. maybe bc, as Québécoise, like i said, i feel a little kinship with those regions' accents, bc the Paris/Île-de-France spit upon our accents as shitty, ridiculous, "not real French" or generally make fun of us, like we're somehow less smart bc of the way we pronounce things and speak with our accent. in my experience! and trust me, i've had a lottttttt of 'em. so the little scene where Jean keeps being annoyed by Thea calling him 'Paris' when he's from Marseilles? ACCURATE & GOLDEN! made me smile.

that being said, as it has been discussed many many times in the fandom, characters like Neil, Kevin and Jean, and even Andrew and Nicky, have such wild backgrounds, with how much they move around geographically + their mixed heritage, that all of them must have unique accents you can't really pin down. Jean left Marseilles at 14, was homeschooled, then forced to learn Japanese then English, in West Virginia, from native Japanese speakers. he doesn't have the Marseilles slang, the refs; his French is stuck at that level and it can't progress, and he also probably loses a lot of it, breaking down over time. finding his words must be a a nightmare. imagine trying to translate a word that isn't even considered French nor translatable outside of Marseilles' region!!! also, how old were his parents? what generation of slang has he picked up by default? or was he, sadly, taught international French?

SO MANY QUESTIONS! UGH! aftg & languages, French specifically, give me a headache (and heartache) every time.

i would say, watch films and series! please! from every part of the Francophonie around the world! Belgium, Louisiana Cajun, Acadia, Québec, Marseilles, Niger... it's a beautiful language, despite his devastating shameful hand in colonization and racism. the way the people forced to learn and speak it to survive have all found ways to make it theirs in infinite ways that help the language evolve and become richer. French is as much theirs now, if not more. French is much more that than the Republic. French is not Paris.

thank you again anon for allowing me to go off on a tangent, and apologies if there are any mistakes, misinformation or harmful things. please let me know kindly and i'll own to it and correct anything that needs correcting!

[drivestraight]

sorry for saying i would post kitty charles blurbs and then didn't actually end up posting kitty charles blurbs. here's like 700 words of a scene that i ended up cutting in the meantime. it's not in the fic anymore but i think it's cute so

“I heard you and Charles had an elevator incident.”

Max stiffens. He looks around the room. The other drivers haven’t arrived to the briefing just quite yet. Carlos walked in alone. He clears his throat. “Who told you that?”

Carlos gives him a weird look, taking the seat beside Max, in the last row of the room. “Charles did…?”

Max blinks. “Oh,” he says, biting his lip. That would make sense. “Yeah, in the hotel.”

As more drivers start to populate the room—George and Lewis, then Kevin and Nico—all taking seats in the middle—Carlos asks, “Did anything happen?”

Max swallows. “Did Charles tell you anything happened?”

“He would not tell me anything, only that you were stuck in the lift for half an hour,” Carlos responds. “I thought you might say more.”

Max shrugs. “Nothing really happened. We of course had to wait to be rescued, but it was fine.”

Carlos narrows his eyes. “That is all that happened?” he asks, suspicious.

“That is all that happened,” Max answers, frowning. “Why?”

Carlos shrugs. “I would just think that, you know, because you are—like that about him, recently, that something might have happened.”

“I am not like anything about him, lately,” Max mumbles, crossing his arms over his chest, sinking into his plastic chair. Carlos doesn’t press the topic, so Max pulls out his phone to check his iRacing server. He busies himself with that for a few minutes as the drivers finish arriving, remembering why he tries to arrive at these as on-time as possible.

A minute before the meeting begins, Max hears the last two drivers arrive, speaking in loud and rapid French.

There aren’t that many seats left—in Max’s row, there remains only a seat on his left, between him and Alex—but there are a couple of side-by-side seats unoccupied in the middle of the room.

Charles and Pierre greet Carlos. After that, Pierre keeps walking to find one of the middle seats, only for Charles to start squeezing into Max and Carlos’ row. 

He takes the seat next to Max, his tail swishing.

Finally realizing he’s been left alone, Pierre turns around, a confused, betrayed look on his face. Max has to suppress his urge to snort. Carlos is looking at them, curiously.

Aware of the eyes, Max puts his phone down, pockets it, turns to Charles, then says, “I think I am going to say something about the barrier after turn one, in Canada.”

Charles tilts his head to the side, ears upright. “Did you have trouble with it?”

“No, but I liked the run-off, and I don’t think that there was much advantage to gain from it. Like,” he goes on, curling one hand to imitate the corner, using the other to mimic his car, “if you cut the corner, you lose time braking, so when you rejoin the track, you will have trouble gaining speed again. I am not sure why they thought it was necessary to change.”

Charles hums. “I don’t know. I think it was a good change.” He pauses, then his shoulders shake with a small giggle. He admits, “I think I used that corner to save time in the past. I think that the turn seven wall is a problem, though. I had some trouble with it during the race.”

“Really? You didn’t seem to lose time there. I saw you losing time going into sector two.”

“Ah, yeah. The car did not seem to like seventh gear there. How did you deal with that?”

“I—”

“Leclerc. Verstappen. We’ll be starting now, unless either of you want to lead the meeting?” Niels says into the microphone, and a couple of the other drivers laugh. Max hadn’t even realized that the room had gone silent.

Adorably, Charles’ ears wiggle, his tail bristles, and he turns to face the front of the room, pouting. 

Max doesn’t end up saying anything about the turn one barrier. There are too many other drivers with grid penalty grievances that he can’t get a single word in.

It is rather boring.

Charles seems to agree as well. As Fernando is complaining about something, he lets out a cute yawn, blinking slowly. He is sleepier, Max remembers from the lift.

Heart stuttering, Max raises a hand, brings it up to Charles’ head. Gently, he scratches the base of one of Charles’ ears. Charles lets out a soft, content purr, tilting his head toward Max’s hand, pleased. Max smiles when Charles rests his head on his shoulder, letting his eyes fall shut—shivers when Charles’ tail curls around his back.

[atsadi-shenanigans]

What Shall We Become 14 - Kevin Bacon

Y'all talk about space dongs, before being rudely interrupted.

On AO3.

Your mouth tastes real weird when you wake up. And you’re more tired than you were when you went to sleep. Like that line from that Bilbo Baggins guy about being butter scraped too thin.

You lie on your stomach, numbed arm beneath your cheek (all of it crusted in drool), and the other arm twisted up all weird beneath you.

“Mgrghngh,” you say as you roll to your side.

You’re more tired than you was when Astarion pulled you outta the river he left you to drown in.

A voice lilts all pretty nearby. Speaking of. The man (elf vampire) sits a few feet away, needle in hand, working surprisingly quickly for a man with no sight.

Oh fuck. You lost your whole, entire corn-husking mind last night. And he fucking heard you do it.

“’M good,” you manage and reach for your bag for a dirt potion.

 And then wait for him to respond. Because he’s the type of asshole that relishes in the kind of barbed commentary that comes from watching somebody lose their whole corn-husking mind. Only he sits quiet. Sews a couple more stitches before tying off his work and snipping the thread with his teeth.

It’s your pants (trousers). He’s slit the sides and rigged them up with leather cording. It’s a real Mad Max kinda biker look, but it’s so much better then running around a refrigerator cave in a shirt and a fucking breechcloth (that shit was for summertime in fucking North Carolina, goddamnit).

“Try these on,” he says and holds it out. His back is mostly to you.

You stand all awkward. One knee cracks. And you shuffle over as pins and needles sweep up and down both your arms. Astarion sits all placid, tucking his needle into…is that a sewing kit? Man’s got a sewing kit? It even kinda looks like a goddamn cookie tin.

You slip one leg through, then the other. Gotta fiddle with them laces, and in the end, they really are side chaps.

“These’re great,” you say. You can even wiggle around without it pinching nowhere. It’s a little loose in the crotch, but that don’t even matter. Only thing it don’t got is pockets.

“I have something else,” he says. And reaches into his back and pulls out…

“Panties,” you say, in fucking Chondathan (at least he told you that’s what it was, this time).

He grins. “Well done. Now, I only had enough material for three, and you’ll need to belt them, but it should be more comfortable than stuffing that bundle into your trousers.”

That sounds like an innuendo. Shit, man made you panties. It’s the most weirdly personal gift you ever got in your whole life.

Great timing, too, if the general achiness curling low in your gut is any indication. Bitch is late. Not surprising, given all the fuck shit that’s happened. But still. She was gonna show up at some point.

What he made is kinda like ancient Roman bikini bottoms (which was a thing). Ties on each side and still a little baggy, but weird, old-fashioned granny panties is still panties that you didn’t have a minute ago.

You consider tapping his shoulder and thanking the man. Wonder briefly at how you’re more comfortable in your own head about like, physical affection with everyone else (imagining swooning against Karlach and frenching Shadowheart when she closes gashes you didn’t even notice). But when it comes to him, you just…can’t. Can’t even entertain the idea of joke kissing him, not even in your own head. It feels…weird. Like standing on the edge of a cliff.

“I did make a few hasty modifications,” he says as you start to unlace them trousers so you can slip on the panties. Which is when you catch his smirk. You seen that smirk before. That one’s goblin shit, right there.

“What did you do?” you say.

He waves a hand. “It’s merely cosmetic. And not my finest work.”

Did he leave one of them panties crotchless or something? Rig it to rip up the—

Nope. They’re all solid enough. And decorated with a simple piece of sloppy embroidery. Heat rushes up your face and you almost cringe away, until you realize that he wasn’t putting a dong on each one, but what you think is supposed to be a mushroom.

Because he’s a fucking goblin and is incapable of passing up an opportunity to poke at you.

“Cute,” you say.

“Aren’t they just?” He grins wide enough to show off his fangs. “I felt we should commemorate your first brush with hallucinogenics, darling. Consider it a souvenir.”

“And you thought the best thing for that was stitching them into my new drawers.”

“I had to contribute something.”

You stare at him for a long moment.

This all reeks of guilt. The whole “cutting you loose” thing. And goddamnit, it’s working. You still ain’t sure what you should be feeling about that. What the just thing is. Part of you thinks you should be pissed. Any maybe you are? But he’s also just…it’s difficult. It was a shit decision. Making it would have been a shit decision either way. And what saved you wasn’t him or even you; it was your bag getting caught up in some rocks. Ones you might not have come near if he hadn’t cut that rope. And then you woulda drowned for sure and been a bare-assed ringwraith in a fucking cave forever.

This might be him manipulating you. Making sure he does nice things so you don’t get mad—cause he ain’t fessed up on it. You noticed that.

Then again, he was acting all weird about this whole thing even before that cavern, when he realized he couldn’t see and you realized he’d have to rely on you. He really doesn’t like owing people.

What a fuck shit mess.

“Everything all right?” he says because you been quiet for a solid moment.

You wriggle back outta them trousers, pluck them up. Eyeball the tent. “I’m gonna go get changed, and then what’s say we get the hell outta here?”

***

You got three dirt potions left. You been down here, on y’all’s own for about three days already, you think. You should start rationing the fuckers. When you tell Astarion your plan, he starts speaking Chondathan at you. And he’s somehow even more pedantic about it than Gale makes you repeat yourself over and over until he’s satisfied with your inflection (fucking language rolls its goddamned r’s, which you was never good at).

After thirty minutes of you spitting all down your chin like a dumbass, he finally lets up.

He’s so quiet behind you, after that. Man’s got his pickup lines; can turn on the sleaze in less than a second. But casual conversation that ain’t complaining about something or imagining killing something or someone?

“So,” you say. Go for the tried and true, “You got any hobbies?”

“What, aside from murder and picking locks?”

Jesus, he ain’t never gonna let that go.

“Yeah,” you say.

A long pause. The cavern y’all are in now is lit up a little by them mushrooms. Y’all skirt around another bigass crystal somehow lit up from within. Probably some bullshit magic. It’d all be pretty if it wasn’t a giant cavern filled with fuck-knows-what hiding in the deep dark between the glowing fungi.

“No, not really,” Astarion says.

It takes you a second to connect it back to your last question.

“Huh,” you say. “That sewing was damn good for a man that can’t see. Better than most who can, I reckon. A fuck of a lot better’n what I can manage.”

“Considering your solution was to simply wrap a cloth around yourself, that’s not really high praise, darling.”

“Take the fucking compliment,” you say. “It’s good work. Even if them mushrooms look like dicks.”

His footsteps fucking trip. He sputters. “Excuse me? They look like what?”

“It ain’t really your fault. Technically, that’s what all mushroom is, anyway: space cocks.”

He makes a kinda muffled “ugh” sound.

And then a thought hits you. “Does your language have different words for genitals depending on the vulgarity? Is it even a vulgarity to y’all?”

“I…yes, actually.”

And the word he used translated to “cock.” Possibly the most vulgar, but also the least casual. Interesting. You do notice he don’t actually use hard swears (or whatever translates to hard swears). Combined with his fancy pants accent, you wonder what he was before that whole fuckface turning him thing.

“You know,” he says. “I didn’t expect this sort of conversation out of you. Though you do have a fine phallus of your own, so color me wrong.”

“Back to them space cocks,” you say, in an attempt to cut him off before the teasing can creep back in. It ain’t fucking weird having a goddamn sex toy. You’re a grown ass fucking adult.

“Space cocks. Do tell.” He literally purrs the last part of that. If y’all wasn’t walking, you’re sure he’d prop his chin up on one hand.

“Pretty sure I was babbling about them last night. But the parts we see, the parts that grow above ground? That’s just the reproductive parts of the organism it grows from. Which I always thought was funny since a lot of them look pretty phallus-like. When they ain’t being a cosmic horror and all.”

“And this amuses you, being a connoisseur of cocks, does it?”

Ooh, he’s digging.

“I seen enough,” you say. You ain’t folding that fucking easy.

“Forgive me darling, is there a point to this topic of conversation, or did you just really want to talk about cocks?”

“I want to talk about how weird mycelium are. You don’t need to—”

The rope tugs on your waist and you turn. He’s stopped. Grin dropped. Eyes open and unfocused, staring hard out into the darkness.

“Do you hear that?” he says.

You do not. There’s the hollow echo of the huge fucking chamber, your own breathing, and y’all’s footsteps crunching about in what has turned into dirt (must be the mushroom’s doing).

But his head tilts, and you know he’s tracking something. Intently. And the shadows around y’all become real dark.

“What is it?” you say as quiet as you can.

He don’t answer. Just frowns. Head turns this way and that, eyes darting around. Until his frown deepens. And the man looks down.

“There’s something beneath us,” he says.

A hidden chamber full of albino orc people your brain throws at you because it’s a motherfucker.

Then Astarion’s face goes blank in a distinctive way that opens ever, single floodgate of adrenaline you got into your circulatory system.

“It’s coming up beneath us,” he says, right as y’all both reach for each other’s hands and you holler, “Run!”

You catch the sound, now. Thunder shimmies up your shins through the thin soles of your stolen boots. With a couple steps, the ground shakes so bad you stumble. Astarion’s iron grip is the only thing that wrenches you back up.

“There’s a rock ahead,” you pant. Your throat already burns. “Next to a cliff. Mushroom…big’un. Growing on the side.”

The two of you stumble sprint over. Hit the edge of the rock right as the ground six inches from your heel erupts in a spray of dirt that knocks you to your knees.

Astarion manages to keep his feet. Once again hauls you scrambling up to the top of the stone as something roars behind you.

You don’t look. All effort is focused on the edge of the rock and the leap you’ll need.

“Three foot gap!” you gasp. “Plenty wide—”

“I can’t—” Astarion starts.

And you shove aside all your cringing and grab the man’s shoulders and point him in the direction he needs to go. But it’d be terrifying to leap without seeing. You remember the cavern where he found you, all the times he touched something. He needs guidance.

“Gimme the stick,” you say as a roar rumbles the air so hard your ribs rattle. You finally glance back.

Something big with a huge fucking mouth.

You barely fumble the stick, barely manage not to drop it. Skirt around Astarion. Judge the distance and leap. And it’s only once you’re airborne that you wonder if that bigass shroom can take your weight or if it’ll snap clean off the cliff like a rotten tree branch.

You land hard enough to go down to one knee. The shroom is squishy, yet firm enough that it only shivers under your weight like a hard mattress.

“Eleanor?” Astarion says, voice sharp.

You whack the cliff with your stick, at foot level, just beside you. His face snaps to that direction.

“Three feet! Here!”

He gives a single nod, waits for you to tap again—the thing below roar and its bulk moves up the rock oh fuck.

Astarion jumps. Lands right next to that sound, and you reach out to steady him and pull him further onto the shroom. Right as the big fucking monster comes bounding up the rock after him. You all but drag the both of you back, fall on your ass (Astarion stumbles over you) and scoot further away.

Up until your hand hits the edge of your little platform.

“Fuck oh fuck fuck.”

Somehow, it did not occur to you that the fucking ground monster might, like, climb.

Now you’re gonna die. Torn apart by a fucking armored hippopotamus-mouthed fucking tank of a thing that snarls and snaps…from its perch on the rock. Three feet of air between y’all.

Astarion claws into your shoulder. “What’s it doing?”

Big fucking monster makes a low sound. Paws at the edge of the rock. Then its head twists left, then right. It’s got little, beady motherfucking shark eyes on either side of what’s actually a massive, fuck off beak. It leans forward, one stubby foot reaching…

But then it pulls back. Makes that sound again. Leans real far forward to…nibble at the edge of y’all’s shroom and then make what you can only describe as a disgusted sound.

“Well?” Astarion says.

“I…” you say. Watch the thing growl and snuffle around. “I think it’s afraid of the mushroom.”

“What? What is it?”

“The fuck am I supposed to know?”

And the blind man rolls his fucking eyes. “Yes, yes, you’re a yokel from another plane. You’re sure it’s not about to pounce on us?”

It fucking stares at you, is what it does. Stands motionless, maybe a total of eight feet away, just fucking staring with its dead eyes.

Every muscle in your body goes limp and you almost swoon.

“I think we should be quiet,” you whisper.

To his credit, Astarion frowns, but crouches down to whisper back, “What does it look like?”

Stumpy legs, thick body, all of it plated in some armor looking hide. Big bitch has a face halfway between a shark and an African hornbill. All of it about the size of a rhino.

Which you tell him, leaving out the animal names. And to which he swears.

“You’re of no help, dear,” he says.

“You fucking asked me—” And cut off as the birdshark snorts. Like a cat watching a squirrel and dreaming of murdering the ever-loving shit outta it.

“We should stop talking,” you say.

“And what would you,” he starts. Seems to reconsider. Then lowers himself to sitting pressed against you. You manage to contain your fidget away. Mostly. And you both settle in for the worst staring contest of your life.

***

Birdshark gets bored after what has to be an hour. Huffs and moans, and then ponderously half slides back down to the ground. It gives you another glare. Then turns nose down, makes a chuffing sound, and all them armor plates fucking buzz and the big bitch slides into the dirt like it’s a fucking cow pond.

“What was that?” Astarion whispers.

The ground don’t move again. The buzzing stops. The whole cave falls silent.

“It went back underground,” you say.

Then Astarion starts to stand. “Well then, we’d beset get out of here before the beastie changes its mind.”

But you’re still staring at the dirt. You grab the bottom of his leather armor to stay him. “Did you hear it leave?”

The man pauses a long moment. Then sinks back down, silent as a whisper. “No.”

It hunts from underground, don’t it. It’s got eyes, and it for sure saw you, but sound seemed to really set it off. And the fucker is down there, buried, and it’s mcfucking waiting for you, ain’t it.

“It’s fucking Tremors rules,” you say. “Fuck me.”

Astarion shifts. You turn and catch the most baffled expression on him.

“It’s a story,” you say. “Monsters show up in a desert town. Big worm things. Hunt from underground. We can’t get on soft ground without it knowing and coming up right between our legs, I bet.”

You didn’t even know the man could get any paler. Granted, it’s like the difference between eggshell and dairy cream at some fucking hardware store paint aisle, and you can only tell the difference by holding up them swatches next to each other under the glare of a noon day sun. But it’s still impressive for a guy whose complexion can, at best, be charitably described as corpseriffic.

“Perhaps your people’s stories aren’t as fictional as you think,” he says.

Which one: they got them the concept of fiction vs. non-fiction and you got to learn how to fucking read here, hot damn, and two:

“I’m really starting to wonder,” you say.

So tremors rules. Fucking waiting at the base of that rock. You scan around the expanse of gloom and flat ground. Them other mushrooms is too high to climb, and you ain’t putting it past birdshark down there to uproot the damned thing and bite y’all’s legs off when it topples over.

But then, off in the distance, the color of darkness changes. You can barely see it (can only see it by looking around it), but there’s a slash of black about a hundred feet to the right. Beyond that, the soft glow of more magic cave mushrooms, all about level with the floor here.

“I think that might be a crevasse to the right,” you say. Scan it again to try to tell if it’s maybe just a ditch. No, no, you think the light reflects off stone on the other side, like a sheer cliff. Goddamn, it’s too dark. Fucking caves.

“What of it?” Astarion says.

Birdshark didn’t wanna leave that rock. It was only a short hop to get to y’all’s tender ass meat, but it seemed nervous. It would make sense for a subterranean predator to be skittish of open air.

“I don’t think it likes being away from the ground,” you say.

You can feel the man lift an eyebrow.

“Or we can stay here until I starve to death. You can feed on me if that happens, and good luck after that.”

For just a second, he looks at you like you done slapped him with a trout. Then he’s back to his usual sass and an eyeroll.

“Fine,” he says. “We’ll have to run for it. I can’t see, and I’m rather sure it’s faster than the both of us. What’s your plan for that, darling?”

You think back to that movie, and remember some of the goodies y’all still got left over from that goblin camp that you are one hundred percent sure Astarion commandeered.

“You still got them bags of spark powder?” you say.

[kevinsdsy]

heyy idk if you’ve seen but apparently olympic athletes have to record themselves saying their names so that i’m assuming viewers and announcers have a reference for how to pronounce them? and apprently at least in some cases those audios didn’t get edited at allll lmao and you can hear background conversation and stuff and the first thing i thought of was what those would be like for the aftg characters that went on to play in the olympics

brought to you by this appearing on my fyp:

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGe78YUEP/

AHHHH I ACTUALLY HAD SEEN A VIDEO (i hadn’t seen this one yet but the one with the moroccan football soccer team) AND IT WAS SO FUNNY TO ME BECAUSE:

some of them were so confused if they were supposed to pronounce it in arabic or french (since arabic has a few letters that dont exist in the french alphabet) so i would imagine it for nabil to go like that where he goes: “nabil ma-moud” and laila goes “ma7moud. don’t you know how to pronounce your own name?” (like i said we have letters that dont exist in this alphabet so we use numbers to spell pronunciations sorry besties 🫣) and so he goes “oh we’re doing arabic? not english?” and they have to assure him he can just pronounce his name correctly.

and (2) apparently they also indicate that the players need to pause and one of the moroccan players went: “name” “pause” “name” as in they LITERALLY pronounced the pause out loud 😭😭 which i havent been able to stop thinking about like 😭😭 i’m trying really hard to think of who would even do such a thing because it’s SO SILLY but i can’t think of anyone— like sure we could say jeremy, but i feel like he would know better. we could say shawn, but he’s just a silly fanon socmed character atp yk. so idk 😭 i think i would love this one for matt where he doesn’t really think it through and he’s just reading out loud what’s in front of him SHDJFHFJ

i watched the other video that was put in the comments too of the tiktok you sent and jean moreau would definitely be serious about this and then you would hear jeremy in the background playing ping pong and yelling 😭 i think this could also work with kevin say and the foxes— so kevin is being all serious and then u hear nicky yelling in the background.

renee would do so well and it would be absolutely correct and perfect— no notes.

and i hate to go back to the moroccan team, but sadly i’m not just a sports fan in fiction, but i also support a sports team irl… i kid you not one of the players went: “[name] two. [name] two.” and then it had to be cut off and they had to explain to him “no. your name. then u pause. and then u say your name again.” and he was like :O without the two? LIKE MY BROTHER??? WHY DID YOU THINK U HAVE TO SAY THAT???? this too is something that’s so silly i cant even imagine someone of the aftg characters doing this 😭

but honestly i think overall the characters will do well without too much trouble. there might be some background noises— especially with the trojans because they’re such a big team and have do spend a longer period of time doing it while the foxes can just tell each other to shut up for a few seconds or either dan or coach will threaten them with extra laps around the court.

((anyways im not sure if anyone is interested in listening in to the moroccan team but here is a link anyways just in case: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZIJnEkJUV/ — it’s a mix of them speaking darija, french and spanish so yeah 😭😭 it adds to the messines))

[stabbyfoxandrew]

Mafia front restaurant AU please! Have a nice WW! 💕

WIP Wednesday (10/16) | Mafia Front Restaurant AU (Part 236)

Jean and Nathaniel are the first to arrive at their meeting place. It turns out to be an alley in a very seedy part of town, which makes a hell of a lot of sense. But it’s also foreign. Because while Stuart isn’t afraid of getting dirty, he’s got class. He’d never arrange a meeting in this hellhole. No. Stuart’s meetings generally take place in the restaurant or one of a dozen other such smokescreens. 

Speaking of the restaurant, Jean glances down at his watch and huffs impatiently. He's got cooking to do for fuck's sake! Where are these idiots?

"Where are these idiots?" Jean finally asks in French. Nathaniel laughs through his nose and shrugs. Where Jean had opted to lean against the car, Nathaniel's taken to sitting on the hood and fiddling with his mother's gun. Jean can hear the barely audible clicks that signify the safety switching on and off.

"Maybe they got lost," Nathaniel finally answers. Safety on, safety off. Safety on, safety off. On, off, on, off. He holsters his gun with a sigh. "I wish they'd hurry the fuck up, Kevin could be having a category six meltdown by now."

"He was already at category three when we were leaving," Jean says with a huff. "He’ll be in my lap all night.”

With a pitiful look on his face, Nathaniel sighs out, "Oh, poor you."

Jean smiles. "Not the word I would use." He catches movement at the far end of the alley and straightens, rising to his full height. "They're here."

Nathaniel immediately switches into business mode, hopping off the car and standing as tall as he can with a bitchy expression on his face. It's his neutral expression, Jean supposes, but it generally serves to induce fear. Nathaniel shrugs his shoulder towards the approaching men and starts walking, to meet them in the middle.

It's symbolic or some shit, Jean figures, since Nathaniel always does this. Jean falls into step right beside him and soon enough they're toe to toe with a mirror of themselves. One mouthpiece, one brick wall.

[foxesandrabbits]

Not only Kevin's entire future with Exy, his one purpose, was crushed alongside his hand, but also, for a moment, his life was on the line too. And he was so scared, he spoke and plead in every language he knew, in hopes anyone would help him, and how soul crashing it must’ve been to know that no one would.

He asked Jean for help, not really understanding that he was damning them both by speaking french in front of Riko because that moment was it- he was going to die. But they both had their hands tied, not having full freedom to actually act the way they wanted. And how devastating is that? Asking for help, and not receiving it. Watching the person you love the most hurt, and not being able to help them. Both their lives at stake, both unable to do something about it.

At that moment, I think, was when Kevin fully recognized that no matter how Jean felt about him (even when Kevin made him break the rules, like teaching him french), there was always going to be a wall between them in the form of a raven. How he truly learned that Jean wouldn’t go with him that night even if he asked, why he used him, because he knew Jean couldn't allow himself to do it willingly, knowing he was betraying the Moriyamas, their cuts ran too deep for that to happen.

And oh, to see Jean for the first time since Renee rescued him must’ve been so excruciating, “bottomless guilt”, how easy was to be back in the nest tending each other's wounds, and how much he didn't want that to happen ever again.

Once Kevin learned how to trust himself, how to be a little less afraid, how to convince himself that there was more to life that what he had been taught, he truly saw Jean, this person that would have done anything for him, at one point.

Kevin couldn’t rescue Jean once, but he wasn’t going to let that happen again, so he made sure to give Jean the best chance he could find so he could have the same hope the foxes had given him. Even if it was without him.

[otdiaftg]

The Foxhole Court - Chapter Fourteen

Day: Saturday, August 26th Time: 9:05 PM EST

"Neil, you made it," Matt said, loud enough even Allison and Seth turned to see. Neil looked from one face to the other, wondering what he'd missed. "Seth and Allison are going bar-hopping downtown, so the rest of us are prepping a movie marathon. Any requests or recommendations?" "You're leaving campus?" Nicky asked Allison. "Are you serious?" Matt glanced at Allison, expression tight, but kept talking to Neil. "Renee should be back with drinks any second. She said she'd get something nonalcoholic for the two of you." "Oh, what a waste," Andrew said. "I'm buying Neil's drinks tonight." It took them a couple seconds to catch on. When they did, Dan lurched out of the doorway with a hard, "You're joking." Andrew nudged Neil with his elbow and said in German, "Hey, Neil. Isn't that amazing? Isn't that touching? Look how they weep over you. Ah, such misplaced concern. Tell them you can take care of yourself." Andrew was daring him to cross a line, to give up a little more of the lie that was Neil Josten. It went against everything Neil knew to give in, but he'd chosen this path. He'd chosen Andrew. He buried his fear as deep as he could and answered in German. "They're not stupid enough to think it's only a drink." "Oh shit," Nicky said, switching languages in a heartbeat. "Since when do you speak German? Andrew, you knew about this? Why didn't you tell us?" "Boring," Andrew said. "Figure things out for yourself once in a while." Down the hall the upperclassmen stared at them in disbelief. Matt was the first to get his tongue back, but the best he came up with was, "I thought you spoke French. That was French this morning, right? At Kathy's?" "I'll see you tomorrow," Neil said in English. "We're going," Andrew said, and went down the hall with Kevin on his heels. "Neil, this isn't a good idea," Dan said. "I know," Neil said, and turned after Kevin and Andrew.

Art used with permission by Masthya. Thank you so much @masthya

[battle-of-alberta]

Who speaks the most languages? Also who has the best French?

well this just might be my most ambitious ask in a while :) shout out to the 1.5 francophones who may or may not follow this blog. And also for those 1.5 francos...

Clause de non-responsabilité

J'ai étudié 6 langues mais je suis toujours monolingue. :'(

Je ne suis pas franco-albertaine et je ne peux pas commenter sur le dialecte.

Mon éditrice @randomoranges n'est pas franco-albertaine, elle est québécoise*. Ah, et elle dit, avec plus d'élegance:

"nous pouvons répondre en français, mais svp demandez-nous pas d'le faire trop souvent, sinon notre pauvre artiste ira en burn out, malgré le fait que ses efforts feront rire sa consultante"

*cependant, selon le Lego, mon éditrice n'est même pas considérée québécoise haha >>;

more info below!

I already expect this piece to get less engagement because it's (mostly) not in English, and I'm afraid I'm still going to be more annoying and not provide a translation. As previously I will lean into making a statement Windex-style by purposefully not translating what I've written above into English just because the point of celebrating Franco-Albertan heritage month is, well, acknowledging the unique status of French in this country and how there is an expectation to conform to English in this province that needs a little challenging. I hope if nothing else, it strikes your curiosity enough to painstakingly type it into google translate so you can get half of the banter.

Another question that languished at the bottom of the box for over a year! This was because I felt I should make a real effort to write in French, of course, but also because I struggled with the wording of the question and ultimately didn't answer it. The "most" or the "best" are very loaded terms, so I avoided answering them entirely particularly because we have several languages that risk losing native speakers and because there's a lot of bs wrapped up in what "good" french is that I'm not skilled enough to unpack (though you can read what Windex wrote on this matter earlier on this blog... And here as well).

I have to strike a balance between representing the gang here as individuals (and immortals to boot) who have a lot of time on their hands and some interest and investment in learning languages on one hand... but also as representations of "average" people on the other. Francophone travellers aren't going to find many French speakers outside of airports, national parks, or government services in this province, but it still might surprise you considering all the "everyone outside of Quebec hates French" rhetoric that politicians like to fling around. It's more complicated than that, obviously, but I can mostly talk about my own personal experience with French here. I tried to represent both the reality that Franco-Alberta exists (represented by Ed) and the stereotypical resistance to French here (represented by Calvin, though clearly he understands enough to respond here. I also just think he tries to play dumb on purpose so that others underestimate him, it's all part of the image!)

Finally, I don't speak any of the languages (Michif, Tagalog, Punjabi, Cree) represented here so I hope they pass muster for the purpose of this little comic! ;~;b I have also represented Calvin speaking Mandarin previously on this blog!

oh yeah, and that "english and business" quote is from kevin o'leary who is from montreal so make of that what you will.

[deeppenguinstudent]

No trauma(ish) au, but one day Kevin is just after practice with the Foxes, and they turn to talk about their yearly trip to the cabin in the mountains but Kevin says he can't come because his partner is coming over.

And everyone looks at him and is like??? What the fuck???? Partner???

Kevin's like oh I didn't tell you? Yeah, I'm dating someone. Everyone in the Foxes calls bullshit and Neil says Kevin just wants to train without Neil to get better at Exy. So then Renee says that Kevin can just bring him along so he can kill 2 birds with one stone.

They all are suspicious until they hear a knock on the door of the cabin; they look around, and all the Foxes are lounging about. Kevin hears the door and immediately stands up before Neil and Nicky tackle Kevin and Allison races to the front door at lightning speed because again, they don't fucking trust Kevin.

What Allison sees renders her shocked. It's by far the most beautiful person she's seen in her life, besides her, of course. Pale white skin, eyes that were as grey as the feathers of a crow and eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He, he?? speaks and asks whether he had the right address and that he was with Kevin.

Allison still with her jaw open, allows him inside, and trails behind him before asking whether he was a prostitute that Kevin hired to prove a point. What she's met with is a knock on her head and an obvious disgruntled Kevin beside her, hair mussed by Neil and Matt.

He takes Jean upstairs to put his coat, and Allison runs into the room and tells everyone to be normal when Kevin brings his partner in. They all share wary looks before Jean walks in beside Kevin speaking in French, and he gives a slight wave before the room erupts in absolute confusion and excitement.

nicky is flabbergasted and accuses Kevin of saying that he wasn't interested in men while Kevin defends himself by saying he just isn't interested in him.

Andrew is the only one who knew before, so he doesn't seem phased except for the obvious beauty that someone like Kevin managed to pull

Neil is just on edge because Kevin isn't dating an Exy celebrity and is instead an assistant manager to some Japanese Corp.

But all is not jack and glory with both of them as Neil and Andrew slowly realise that Jean's boss is an absolute megalomaniac who doesn't want Jean anywhere but beside him and they notice the tandems in both Kevin and Jean's relationship as well as the potential danger that Jean brings.

[justanotherdrfan]

Welcome again to DTS BREAKDOWN!

Spoilers below to proceed with caution!

S6E8 (Forza Ferrari) 🏎️

Producer: ‘I’m gonna ask you some questions’ , Fred: ‘Okay, but I’m not in the police station.’ (Hahahaha Fred my man what have you gotten yourself into before for that to be your default response) ☠️

They did not start talking about Ferrari in Italian culture and show Charles face superimposed on Jesus! 😂

Fred asks if he has to be serious? Producer: no be yourself. Fred immediately proceeds to blow a raspberry (GIVE THIS MAN HIS OWN SHOW STAT)

Will: You could have a less serious person running Ferrari and he’s not even Italian! (This episode makes up for the bullshit McLaren one)

And he doesn’t speak Italian makes it 1000 times better

We made mistakes. Cue mistakes montage

Ahh the best looking teammates on the grid (for now until Lewis rocks up)

The fact he does his interviews in French is fucking hilarious 

Nawww mama Sainz 🥺

Frederica from sky Italy is absolutely beautiful

Pole at Monza but we all know it’s Max GP week in week out in 2023

Will: if you don’t convert pole to a win it’s the biggest failure (don’t say that in front of Charles)

Omg the woman clutching a Charles Jesus photo to her chest watching the Monza race

Oh wait there there’s an even bigger photo of his at the bar next to the tv they are watching from

Max on the hunt is honest prime content

The collective groan of the Tifosi watching Max take it rightful place in 1st

Ohh Checo finally did something right and overtakes both Ferraris (but in front of the Tifosi) 😬

Here we go DTS trying to make out like Ferrari are fighting but newsflash they both said in the post race interviews that was one of the funniest races they both had

The Tifosi are outraged at them fighting on track

Don’t mess with the Tifosi they are brutal

Fred, Carlos and Charles lunching about working as team and Carlos goes let’s do it at Singapore (excuse me was this recorded before or after the fact because it smells fishy set up to me)

Ohh look someone in an ice bath at Singapore (wait it’s Kevin sorry not interested)

‘A rare mistake by the Red Bulls’ in qualifying (um no it’s a weekly event with Checo please get your facts straight)

Ohh look the week the car ‘Rocky’ wasn’t feeling well and let Max down

Using Charles as a sacrificial lamb (very Jesus like)

To the window to the wall (a Logan story)

Ahh not Ferrari once again fucking up a pitstop for Charles

To the window to the wall (a George story)

Carlos P1 in Singapore (cue smooth operator)

Poor baby Jesus Charles

Fred on the podium (things we love to see)

Ohh look all of the Tifosi are changing their tune about Fred (Italians are easily swayed given the year that was)

[beevean]

https://www.google.com/amp/s/www.comingsoon.net/tv/features/1352249-castlevania-nocturne-interview-kevin-kolde-and-adam-sam-deats-on-season-1s-ending%3famp

Good morning! Have a feast!

oh joy.

I think the Abbott is a great character, and a gray and complex character. [...] With the church, priests were being guillotined and everything else. [...] he’s reacting and doing what he must to survive and what he genuinely thinks is right, but it’s obviously so messy.

Guys, there is a difference between being complex and messy, and not making any sense. A priest who denounces the Revolution because it's "godless" but then allies himself with cruel murderous vampires with plans of making a queen vampire ascend to goddess status is not complex, he's a giant idiot.

"we we look at the French Revolution from our perspective" it was barely a footnote. Stop promoting Nocturne as this amazing fantasy story set during the French Revolution when you guys couldn't even be bothered to realize bread was nearly unaffordable and thus Tera, supposedly a common woman, couldn't offer it to guests.

One of my favorite parts of the series, honestly, is Richter having to come face-to-face with a possible future for himself is obviously a hallowing experience for him and is a big part of his character growth.

Juste is kind of a mirror for Richter because it’s where Richter may end up if he loses himself and becomes defeated.

...

....................

Juste exists solely for Richter to be like "eww no I don't wanna be like that".

Juste exists solely as a warning. Don't be too traumatized, or you'll become a nihilistic hateable fuck.

Juste. Juste Belmont. The Successor of Fate. The man who first grappled with the weight of his legacy. You killed off Maxim and Lydie without any thought just to shoehorn him into the "cynical mentor" stereotype regardless if it fit his character, instead of truly building up from the harrowing worst ending. He was included in the show to be shat on, for Richter to get over his trauma in one episode - or, to quote the article, "finally get his mojo back".

... yeah I'm just going to move on before I explode. "I love HoD" my entire ass.

"This was our chance to actually harmonize some of the things that were developed later with Harmony of Dissonance" oh you think you're so funny aren't you

an opportunity to show something that we didn’t really get to see that much in a lot of Castlevanias, which is that Juste is the first Belmont that can use magic, right?

Oh, is this why Juste is completely useless in unlocking Richter's magic, and he has to remember the woman who mocked him for not being able to use magic to have his badass moment? Huh uh. Please, you just admitted Juste's narrative role was to be pitied and looked down on as a warning to never become like him.

"[Alucard's return] was built in as we laid out what the first season was going to be. It was always there." I had no doubts.

The path of him finding himself when he’s in this totally new, different distorted form is really interesting. I think there are also some elements that speak back to Castlevania Season 3 and some of the conversations that Isaac has with his night creatures.

Season 4, actually. You're referring to Isaac's speech about how Night Creatures don't have to be tools of destructions just because they were made for that purpose. Which is not a bad scene in theory, but the problem is that Night Creatures in Nocturne are not the same as in NFCV. In the latter, they are truly mindless, except for FlysEyes because he used to be a philosopher so he's much more intelligent than the other souls (whatever, this is the canon explanation) - Isaac was, what else, mostly talking about himself allegorically. But in Nocturne, probably because they were created with a stupid DEVIL FORGING MACHINE, it's clear that the Abbot has little control over his own creatures. Like, Edouard is not particularly special in that regard, it's the Abbot that sucks lmao.

anyway I'm going to speedrun HoD, bye