#quick linguistics fact in the tags

[zeebreezin]

trademark of losing your mind at zee 3 times a day--no fr it's Incredibly Fun character writing & concepts, linguisticsposting & 10/10 body horror writing thank you for being my brother in body horror arms 🤝 wait oh my god also the new sequence just, in general. obviously

YBEOSJSO thank you!! Im glad the people stand behind me on fun concepts & also Sequence Posting. The bond between us body horror brothers… iron clad 🤝

[mi-i-zori]

Writing Resources - Masterlist

This masterlist will host the links to the posts and threads I've saved as writing resources. None of them are mine - all the credits go to the amazing people who made them.

Characters

Author, Narrator, Protagonist, Hero... Who is What ?

Creating Black Characters With Intent

Describe Your Main Character Sheet

Emotionally Reserved Characters

Flaws to Give to Your Characters

How to Introduce Your Character In 3 Steps

How to Show Emotions (They have a whole series for this, please go check it out !)

How to Write a Character Who's in Pain

How to Write Trauma With Humanity

Open Letter from a Poc for People Who Are Writing Characters of Colour

Questions for Crafting Problematic Characters

Tips : Nail Your Character's Mannerisms and Speech Pattern Down

Top-Tier Villain Motivations

What Will Your Character Do If...

Fantasy

Fantasy Guide to Education

Make and Interesting Wedding Dress in Your Fantasy Setting

Reasons Why Can't Your Characters Use Magic To Fix Everything

Some Locations and Structures to Include in Your Forest

What No One Tells You About Writing Fantasy

Good to Know

A quick Guide to Animal Symbolism

An Introduction to Small World Theory

Differences Between UK and USA Military Dog Tags

How Boat Pronouns Work

Medical Facts that are Commonly Overlooked

Medieval Dyes

Playing Music With a Bow! (The Archery Kind)

Realistic Travel Time

Roles on a Pirate Ship

Slater's Impromptu List of Military Reference Material

Sick/Poisoning Fics

Stop Doing This in Injury Fics !

Symbolism in Writing

The Anatomy of Passing Out : When, Why and How to Write It

The Anatomy of Punching a Character in the Face

The Symbolism of Flowers

Ultimate List of Weapons and Arsenal for Fantasy Setting: Purpose and Who Uses Them

What's the Deal With Archers and Animal Companions ?

Horror

Creepy Things to Add to Settings

Horror and Comedy : 90/10 rule

How to Write Creepy Stories

How To Scare Your Readers

Most Common Character Flaws in Horror Fiction

"Never Were" and "Used to Be" Monsters

People Get Eldritch Madness Wrong

Romance

When the Romantic Tension is High

Tips

If You're Starving in a Post-Apocalyptic Fic

How to Make Your Writing Less Stiff

Pep-Talk - You Are Allowed to Be Proud of What You Write + List of YT Channels and Amazon Links for Writing

Resources About Survival in the Wild

Skip Google for Research

Some Writing Advice

The Neurodivergent Writer’s Guide to Fun and Productivity

Write Smarter, Not Harder

Writing Tip : Research

Vocabulary

Aesthetic Words to Fill Up Your Vocabulary

Bilingual Characters - German Edition

CoD - Spanish for Ale and Rudy Fics

Colours in Descriptions

IRL Operator Phrases/Terms - USA Edition

Gemstone Colors

German Pet Names

List of Wikipedia Articles - British and American Words and Differences

Scottish Phrases and Words for Soap MacTavish (or Scottish Characters in general)

Soft-Feeling Latin Words and Phrases

On Using Words that Indicate Sounds and Tones for Dialogues

Words to Use Instead of "Running"

Words to Use Instead of "Sighed" and "Frowned"

Writing Russian-Speaking Characters

Voices

A Guide to Write a Mancunian Accent

Growled, Roared, Snarled, Etc... A Brief Description

Writing Character Accents in Fiction

Worldbuilding

A Website That Walks You Through Creating a Believable Society

List of unique and imaginative types of government that can add depth to your fantasy world

Random Linguistic Worldbuilding

Other

Backup Your Tumblr Blog

Disable Recall for Microsoft's Copilot+ PCs

How to Find a Post on Tumblr

Protect Your Stories on AO3

Show Me a 10ft Paywall, I'll Show You a 12ft Ladder

Mii's Blog Recommendations

@deception-united - I love the resources this person shares ! They have a masterpost that lists their useful posts, but they also complete some of these posts as answers to asks and reblog a lot of other resources.

@leisureflame - This blog has a lot of resources, advice and prompts ! The author also offers to help with other people's struggles too, which is immensely wholesome in itself.

@writers-potion - This blog has tons of amazing posts to help writers with their research. I keep coming back to it, and highly recommend checking it out ! Here are this person's extremely useful Masterpost (1) and Masterpost (2).

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

OC interaction

Thanks to @somethingclevermahogony here and here, @illarian-rambling here, and @mk-writes-stuff here!

Rules: describe an OC, then describe how they would interact with the OC of the person who tagged you!

Under the cut, it got long:

C's OC #1

Narul is a 23 year-old slave at the Palace of Labisa, the Great City by the Lake. He is a forestfolk, a person or group of people who have been mutated or altered by the effects of wild or ambient magic. His birth mother was a priestess, his father is a mystery. He was adopted by an enslaved woman as an infant, thus how he ended up in the servitude of King Hutbari. He is a giant of a man, literally, at just a hair under nine feet tall. He is additionally quite bulky, much much larger than even the biggest human. He is so massive that the door into the slave quarters had to be reconstructed just to fit him as he grew up. Aside from his size he is also just a bit rough in appearance, hairy and broad, picture a DnD Dwarf, just sized way up. He is inhumanly strong, a fact that causes him a great deal of distress. Because of his size and strength, Narul has the potential to be quite dangerous to normal humans, as he has been repeatedly reminded of since his childhood. Narul has a great deal of anxiety around his body and his potential to accidently hurt others, as such he is quite timid and careful. He has a tendency to mumble when he talks, which unfortunately due to his low voice, often makes it sound like he is growling. He is a gentle person, he likes flowers and abhors violence. He cries relatively easily and gets easily anxious or overwhelmed.Despite all of this he is fiercely loyal and kind. He doesn’t talk much but loves to listen to others.  His fatal flaw is a healthy dose of self-doubt and self-loathing. Narul hates his body, it scares him, and he believes that it scares others. He is often self-deprecating, though not in a joking way. He feels an intense jealousy towards those around him that are able to live normal lives and pursue normal relationships.

C's OC #2

Mikrab is a spiritblood, half-human and half-spirit, a demigod. Mikrab is just over 1450 years old, his body is functionally immortal, though his mind is not. Time and loss has made him apathetic, and his memory has faded with the ages. He does not remember where he comes from, nor his family, he doesn't even remember his birth name, Mikrab is the Knoshic version of his original name (Like Juan vs. John), and his culture and language of origin have since gone extinct. While he does not relish in violence or destruction, he simply does not care if he causes it. He will kill and destroy for the sake of convenience. He wanders the world, not seeking death but also not avoiding it. He is lethargic and cold, save for moments of frustration, often with his predicament. As with all spiritbloods he is massive, though among spiritbloods he is on the short side, only about 7'8, and is a bit more lean in his build compared to the likes of Narul or Batricca. His supernatural strength and durability are what have allowed him to survive so long. Surprisingly, he is quite a skilled linguist and can speak in Kishite, Knoshic, Apunian, Korithian, Arkodian, Ikopeshi, and Namuti.

Katie's OC

Djek Kagura is a young man (19 in the first book, 23 in the second two) with a shifty appearance, red eyes, and a constant squint due to poor vision. He grew up on the streets after his parents tossed him out to cut down on mouths to feed, only to later join the brutal Tunnel Wasp smuggling gang, which he later split from due to his aversion to violence and need to do what's right. As a person, he's always quick with a joke or snide comment, loves sarcasm, and lies like a fish breathes water. His bad habit is that he loves to annoy people on purpose. At his core is a deep sense of self-loathing and abandonment issues, but he covers these with humor. He tends to try to find peaceful solutions to situations and has a bit of a bleeding heart, even if he pretends to be tough. His friends mean the world to him and he's loyal to the point getting himself hurt in fights he can't win. Also, he's surprisingly in touch with people's emotions and always trys to make them feel better, even he does it with a bad joke or by irritating them to action. He has a weak form of sorcery, specializes in shadow magic, and has incorrigibly sticky fingers.

MK's OC

My OC (created by my lovely gf): Nellie is a clone in her mid-twenties, although she’s only been out of the vat for about six months. She’s reasonably tall and pretty skinny, with pale skin, short black hair, and narrow red-and-gold eyes, which she usually hides behind sunglasses. Nellie is a sweet, kind, and empathetic woman who cares very deeply for others and wants to help, to the point where she sometimes struggles to put herself first. She also has a deeply traumatic history of abuse by her genetic donor that still troubles her deeply and gives her struggles with intimacy, as well as an addiction to mindsplit that she’s trying to shake. She longs for a simple, happy life - a good job, a nice place to live, good food, and the chance to live as her true self (Nellie is a trans woman) is all she’s really looking for (and maybe a partner one day if the opportunity arises - she’s met a friend who’s cute but he’s also a clone of Belladonna’s dad so she’s a bit uncertain). Nellie also has empathic magic, although she hasn’t trained it much, which she mostly uses to see how others are feeling and help them where she can.

My OC

Ash Hathaway is a thirteen year old (at the start of Pt1) girl with telepathic powers. She's ambitious to the point of self-destruction, where she wants to try new things just to see where her limits are. Part of it has to do with wanting to prove herself - that she can do it. If someone says she can't do something, she's likely going to go out of her way to do it. She lives in the moment with only some hindsight and no forward thinking. She seeks pleasure and thrill and risk, with no regard to how this could hurt herself or others. Not that she doesn't care about people, but more of she just doesn't recognize danger. She wants nothing more than to expand her powers just to see how far she can go. Despite being able to read minds and feel the emotions of others, she struggles to empathize or understand exactly what she's feeling, usually misinterpreting what others are thinking. Overstimulation and frustration can lead to her seeking ways to avoid her problems and more dangerous behavior. Ash needs to be kept busy - have her do something productive and hands-on, and she will be fine.

Ash and Narul

I think Ash would feel a little conflicted about approaching Narul, considering his size, and she doesn't like feeling physically helpless. However, I think she would, because she also likes risk and after a bit of debate would decide she could use her telepathy to her advantage. Being able to read his thoughts, I think Ash would figure out that he's not a threat, even if she doesn't understand being timid of himself just because he might hurt someone. She does get the fear on some level, since she has done so before herself, but she's always just reassessed how to go about testing her powers. Why limit herself? She may try to teach Narul that. You can't learn if you don't try. Narul I think would be scared that he might hurt her, a child, in the process, so probably wouldn't give in. I think Ash would get his frustration in his own skin, since she's felt that way many times. However, she will never understand not wanting to see what he's capable of. But I think that Narul will ultimately remind Ash of her best friend, Lexi. Jealous easily, cries easily, easily overwhelmed, hates violence...just a million times more reserved than she is. Narul may be jealous that Ash even has a friend group, even if Ash manages to admit most of her friend group was constructed by Lexi. I think they'd be able to connect on some level, but ultimately not understand each other quite well.

Ash and Mikrab

I think Ash and Mikrab could help each other. Ash is always eager to learn more, and through telepathy, could help Mikrab potentially regain some memories. She would love to absorb the knowledge he has, maybe experience what the long life was. However, if he's lost the ability to care, Ash may do this without consent, even if she believes it would ultimately help him. I'm sure she'd sit on it for a while, but in an intense situation, in an attempt to stop him, she'd easily rip into his mind to try and access what he once lost. She wouldn't do anything that deep without consent on impulse, I don't think. Unless we're talking about Ash toward the end of TSP, then I think she would, and in a way she becomes more and more apathetic like Mikrab. So depending on the circumstances, Ash could help Mikrab connect with memory and emotion again as she learns new things and tests her abilities, or Ash's drive to do that will get her severely hurt, killed, or just in a generally bad situation.

Ash and Djek

Djek may intrigue Ash a bit too much. She may be able to sense he's lying, sense him covering pain with humor, etc wonder why, and peak into his mind. May get a bit overwhelmed by the self-loathing thing. She has used humor before to defuse situations, so they have that in common, but she does not exactly covering up her own pain with it. She will try to understand Djek, but her curiosity may get the best of her, and I'm not sure he'll like her experiencing his own self-loathing and calling out every lie he makes. I think they would clash, at least at first. Djek being in touch with emotions naturally would be an interesting comparison. I feel like they'd call each other's feelings out, read each other and make the other one irritated as a result. However, I do think that if they were in A Situation in which they were forced to work together or bond, they could do it. Ash definitely would be interested in Djek's magic, weak or not, and may even encourage him to test his limits.

Ash and Nellie

Ash would probably accidentally sense Nellie is a clone, but she'd also sense she shouldn't reveal that to anyone. Her kind empathetic nature who puts herself last would remind Ash a lot of her friend Gwen. Hearing Nellie has empathetic magic would definitely cause Ash to be curious, and she'd ask her many questions about it. First, she may ask how she could learn to interpret emotions, but also may see if she can help Nellie expand her powers a bit more. Ash also has a bit of a developing addiction to telepathic probes that expand her mind and give her visions but start to take a toll on her - mentally, emotionally, physically. If Nellie is shaking off an addiction, I would hope she manages to convince Ash to stop using the probes. Cannot confirm if it would work or not - it may make Ash get irritated and want to use them more to prove she can do it. That last bit may cause a divide, but I think they'd mostly be interested in the other.

Well that was long.

Tagging @elsie-writes @winterandwords @sleepywriter00 @cherrybombfangirlwrites @duckingwriting @ceph-the-ghost-writer + anyone else who wants to play!

TSP intro

TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @finchwrites

[saintship]

Ooohh can I request #3 with Ghost please? I’m picturing reader and Ghost have been flirting and dancing around each other for months but Ghost hasn’t really made things “official” so she gets annoyed and decides to go on a date with some one else… Ghost finds out and of course goes all possessive and… well you get the rest. But also, anything you want to right for this prompt I would love and thank you so much!

Prompt #3 - “How was your date?”

My debut back. I missed you, reader

EDIT I HAD AN UNFINISHED SENTENCE IN THIS PLS KILL ME PLS KILL ME PLS

Why bother - Ghost x reader

You and Simon were an odd pair; A linguist and a revered operator seemed to live in different worlds. But, after Hassan and their allegiance with Las Vaqueros, it was clear that none of the 141 was equipped to deal with foreign communication on their own, the fact exacerbated by how long it took to get any information from a civilian without Alejandro’s help.

You were a special case, individually offered a position working closer to operators like the ones in the 141. Rigorously trained to hold your own, you were assigned to accompany Captain Price and Kate Laswell in analyzing foreign communication, your true profession. Missions centered around gathering intelligence or questioning a suspected threat were the ones that you would tag along for. It wasn’t until late into your first duo mission with Ghost that you saw a glimpse into Simon Riley.

You were walking the bustling streets of Urzikstan. You knew he was sweating under his uniform just like you were, but he had a way of making it look like he was completely unbothered.

“You don’t mind the heat?” You had observed quietly as the two of you walked to the exfil point.

“Never said that.” He didn’t break his focus from where it was trained ahead of him.

“You didn’t have to.”

He glanced at you, and you saw a mixture of disbelief and amusement in his eyes.

“Spend four weeks in Moscow sleeping in a drafty shed and tell me you still prefer the cold.” He offered.

“I could say the same about four weeks here..”

“Do you enjoy bickering?”

“When I have a good partner.” You concede. He’s quiet for a moment, and then he laughs. He really laughs.

Even though it’s barely a second of time, a quick escape of energy, it felt like the dawn breaking. You couldn’t help but want to take on the challenge that was being Ghost’s friend, and you knew he responded to honesty; people who didn’t tread fearfully or treat him like he would violently snap if they asked for his name.

“You would like Soap..”

“I’ve met him.”

What you meant was, you had met Soap, and you did like him, but you found yourself wanting to talk to Ghost more. Soap had his own friends, his own way of having fun, his own way of working. Things you didn’t gather so easily about Ghost. He had a shell you wanted to splinter at slowly until he didn’t even realize he was out of his comfort zone, he was just talking. And you did.

Over time. Over missions, and food, and early morning skies, you broke through. And the part you took the most pride in was the fact that you didn’t force a single minute. It was only until he asked if you’d like to help with his rent, and share his flat, that he began to deeply confuse you.

What began as playful, exaggerated jokes became something that just felt too real to be humor. The way he looked at you, the way he rested an arm on the top of the doorframe as he spoke to you, as he made these jokes. Weeks went by of tossing and turning, bargaining, long conversations with your friends and flip-flopping between emotions regarding Simon. And then there was a night that lit up your heart before it caught, burning even deeper than before.

It was late, a movie he had chosen playing quietly on the TV screen as you and Simon spoke over takeout. At one point, he gestured to something on your face, and didn’t give you ten seconds to locate it yourself before his own thumb was swiping against your skin, his palm warm on your jaw. He kept his hand there, and you were aware that he was suddenly closer than before. But just before you had the courage to break the tension, he busted out laughing, wiping the food residue off his hand with a napkin. The idea of having a tense moment with you, to him, was funny. Ridiculous, outrageous. You had excused yourself to go to bed early, white-hot shame burning your lungs and throat. You cursed him, cursed yourself. It took everything in you to pretend like it was all fine. It took even more to say yes to a date with someone else.

A few days later, you walked into the living room to grab your keys, dressed up and accessorized.

“Got a date?” Simon spoke from the couch, and you could hear that stupid, beautiful, stupid smile in his voice. The question was a joke.

“Yes.” You replied shortly, ignoring his questions as you let the door shut behind you. If he wanted to know, he should have asked sooner. God knows you’ve done enough waiting for the both of you. His muffled 'Hey!' was the last thing you heard before sitting down in the passenger seat of your date's car.

By the time you got back, you were more dissatisfied than before. The guy hadn't bothered to throw away the old food in his car, he tried to order for you, commented that "You'd be so much happier if you hit the gym more", drank four beers in under thirty minutes, and didn't notice when you slipped away with a poor bathroom excuse. You rode a taxi home, surprised to see the living room lights still lit beyond the filmy curtain of your shared flat. He must be working late.

Your key got stuck in the door for a moment, nearly causing you to break the damn thing off its hinges in frustration. You weren't sad; that guy didn't deserve that power. You were just fed up.

You hung your keys and yanked off your shoes, padding into the kitchen with a steadying sigh. Simon was making tea.

"Hey." You greeted shortly before getting the leftovers you wanted and turning to leave again.

"What, no debrief?"

The words were playful, but his voice was cold. Like you'd left a argument unresolved. You paused in the doorway.

"It was bad."

"No shit." He lifted his mug to his lips, the smug look in his eyes making you want to tip the steaming coffee onto his stupidly perfect chest and stomach.

"What are you so smug about?" Your tone was a bit snippy as you set down what you were holding. Simon shrugged.

"You know that you won't find a decent guy on an app, love."

"I'll get back to you when I find a fuck to give."

Any playfulness in his demeanor stilled to a stop.

"Watch your mouth."

"You don't get to tell me when I'm allowed to be angry, Simon. And my dating life is none of your concern. Not that you know much about relationships anyway, all you've ever done is talk in circles and stare when I'm walking away."

His brow knitted in a quiet anger. "What the fuck are you saying?"

"Don't. Don't look at me like I'm insane, you know exactly what I'm talking about." You pointed at him briefly, your voice wavering in its strength. You weren't angry. You were finally just sad.

He set down his mug, scoffing frustratedly.

"You won't find someone if you're only going out to get at me. If that makes you so happy, I'll tell you; it does get at me. You drive me insane when you give shitty people your time while I wait for you." He steps a bit closer.

His hypocrisy made you grasp at the sides of your head, exhaling roughly as your eyes closed.

"What? What now?" Simon gestured weakly to your frustration.

"You don't wait for me. You have never waited for me. You treat the idea of anything happening between us like a joke. Who does what you did the other night and expects the other person to not be confused? I saw how you looked at me, and for a second I actually thought that you might.. what are you doing?"

He had drawn closer while you were talking, taking your hands in his.

"You and me.. it's not a joke. It never has been."

"What?" You breathed, shaking your head gently.

"I'm sorry, alright? But I don't want to watch you go out with.." His jaw twitched. "I just—god, I just want to kiss you.."

You didn't pull away when he took your hands, and now, you weren't pulling away when he brought his lips to yours. Every daydream that had plagued your boring shifts, every glance, every catch in your breath. He kissed all of it away, and replaced it with the real thing. And when he drew back, he looked softer than you'd ever seen him before. His hair was mussed, remnants of his eye black lingering on his cheekbones. Those cobalt eyes. He held your jaw in your palm again, and this time the warmth of his body was all over. He spoke softly enough to let you know his words were only for you.

"I hope that tells you how I feel, because I'm a bit shit with words.."

You just kissed him again. No words was fine by you.

[taras-toe-beans]

I was tagged by @kelandrin to do this challenge from @sporeservant

Izzrhys Illith'vir | he/him | drow | oath of devotion paladin | 103

What is your Tav’s…

favorite weapon: Glaive

style of combat: He's a human shield; throws himself in the middle of a battle and takes the brunt of the damage from enemies. Heavy hitter, loves his smites

most prized possession: He doesn't have a lot of physical items he holds dear. Most important is probably his amulet of Ilmater, as both a symbol of his faith and his spellcasting focus. The amulet is made of wood and red cord.

deepest desire: He wants to be useful, to be needed, and to help alleviate the suffering of others wherever he finds it.

guilty pleasure: He loves trashy romance novels. Both the cheesy, sickly-sweet kind of romance and the steamy, smut-filled kind. I'm starting to think the companions should form a book club.

best-kept secret: He doesn't go out of his way to hide this, but Izzrhys doesn't like talking about the fact that he has children in the underdark.

greatest strength: His compassion. While considered a bleeding heart by some, it has proven to be one of his best qualities. He will go out of his way to help others in need, especially if he knows no one else will stand up for them.

fatal flaw: Recklessness. Izzrhys is quick to lend a hand and equally as quick to put himself in danger. He frequently takes worse beatings than everyone else in battle.

favorite smell: Freshly baked breads and pastries

favorite spell or cantrip: Divine smite. Who doesn't love smiting the fuck out of baddies?

pet peeve: He gets really annoyed at people who have blind faith in any sort of leader. He's been there, done that, and at this point, watching it happen to other people just hurts.

bad habit: He frequently takes on way too many responsibilities and tasks. Time and time again, he's presented with the lesson of "you can't help everyone," and yet he still tries, even if he's spread too thin as it is.

hidden talent: He's surprisingly good with animals. No druid, of course, but animals have always been more drawn to him than a lot of his peers. He's also good at animal care and can usually heal them if need be.

leisure activity: He likes reading, mainly fiction. He's also very interested in linguistics and sometimes studies books on that in his downtime.

favorite drink: Brandy, fruity wines

comfort food: Has a not-so-secret sweet tooth. Especially loves fruit pies and pastries

favorite person: Gale- he would do anything for that wizard

favored display of affection (platonic and/or romantic): Hugging. Izzrhys is a BIG hugger. He loves holding Gale (he's 100% the big spoon), he makes sure that Karlach gets to make up for years of not touching anyone, and he ensures that everyone gets some physical affection, should they want it.

fondest childhood memory: He remembers the time he spent with his younger brother, Valdaer, in the underdark. It's all pretty mundane, some of the memories unpleasant, but any memories of his brother, he tries to hold onto.

Is there anything else you'd like to share? edit: totally forgot to fill out this section, bc I did have a couple of things to add. Izzrhys has severe arachnaphobia (needless to say the spiders under the blighted village and his meeting with Kar'niss did NOT go well). Also as mentioned, he spent his earlier years in the underdark, specifically in Menzoberranzan, but didn't escape until he was in his 80s.

[iniziare]

Hi!! I've been seeing your stuff in Gui's tag and I was wondering if you're okay with questions? If not, please ignore this :) But what do you think of Guiping as a ship? I've seen a lot of artwork that says its the ship that's 'closest' to be her canon ship or something like that. Thoughts? Have a nice day!!

Hi 'non! Thank you for this, and I never mind questions, if anything, I welcome them any day, as they kind of force me to test my knowledge unexpectedly (best way to do it really). I actually have a fair bit of thoughts on this topic, so I'm glad you asked! I took a bit of time to do some additional research so that I have my facts straight, or, straighter, but all of it kind of confirmed what I'd already come to the conclusion of.

So, my answer to this may be a bit of a hot (and sensitive) take, but please do know that this is based on analyses and quite some thorough research throughout months of writing Guizhong, because the 'Guiping outdoes all else' is discourse that I've absolutely been unable to avoid. So yes, let's talk about Guiping, and why I think that people's hyperfocus on the dynamic as immediately and inherently romantic is a take that comes with numerous problems. Not only do I think that it sorely takes away from at least three characters (of which two are female) in multiple ways, but it also absolutely disrespects the cultural significance tied to linguistics, all simply for the purpose of 'representation'. I think we live in a world where people are so big on representation that they're quick to label things unjustly. And aside from that, I'm also personally concerned with how quickly people see things as being 'romantic' in today's age and preach it to be the 'irrefutable canon', but I digress, I'm rambling, so let's actually get into it. I apologize, for this'll get long and ramble-y, if there is one character that I will type essays about for days and days, it is Guizhong. I don't know what it is about her, but she is the dearest to my heart in entirely different ways. So this will touch on more than just 'Guiping', and instead will talk about Guizhong, Ping, Cloud Retainer, and of course, also Zhongli. But I'll speak in what we can actually see, and hear, instead of what we might feel, and envision, and hope.

While I'll explain what I mean with the disservice to numerous characters soon, let's touch on my first point, and let's actually talk about why Guiping is so fiercely shouted from the rooftops, and put under a spotlight as it is. All of it, yes, all of it, stems from how Ping uses the translation of 'soulmate' to refer to Guizhong in the original Chinese text, along with the following quote, during Guizhong's reveal in 2023's Lantern Rite:

"When the one attuned to my soul is no longer here, who else could hope to understand this tune?"

Without some critical thought, many in today's would consider this to be a reference to someone Ping would have likely been in love with, but I think (and I don't even mean this with genuine disrespect) that it's a shallow take for multiple reasons, but let me explain why. I think the best way of doing so, is to actually look at the terminology used in Chinese that people then translate from. In the original Chinese text, Ping uses 知音 (pronounced as zhīyīn in Mandarin) when speaking of Guizhong, and after some research, I found this thread. Now let me quote a little from it, because why try to put it into words on my own, when this author and translator's explanation is really quite formidable:

zhī 知: to know, knowing yīn 音: music, sound Literally, a zhīyīn is someone who "truly understands your songs." The term zhīyīn comes from a story about finding a kindred spirit through music. There are many versions of the story, and here is one of them: One day, the musician Yu Boya was playing a qin in the wilderness, when he met Zhong Ziqi. When Boya played one song, Ziqi immediately understood it and described it as reflecting the mood of soaring mountains (高山). When Boya played another song, Ziqi also comprehended immediately and described it as creating the mood of flowing waters (流水). Ziqi could understand all of Boya's songs. When Ziqi passed away, Boya felt so distressed that he destroyed his qin and never played it again. Boya thought of Ziqi as a "zhīyīn," and that term continues to be widely used to this day.

With its origins and explanation behind us, let's actually look at its definition and how it is modernly translated into the West's English language, while retaining its actual meaning:

In a modern context, the term of "zhīyīn" is often translated into English as a soulmate, a kindred spirit, or a very close friend, but at its core, it's a term that refers to a type of intensely emotional, spiritual, and platonic connection with someone.

In truth, the term 'soulmate' has never in any language, even in English, been irrefutably tied to a romantic love, but current times seem to have people conflate it with such a concept. But in reality, it's never been an automatic deduction. A soulmate refers to a kindred spirit, someone who understands an element of your person (or your entirety) in a way others might not. It means that there is a connection that defies the norm, a connection that's deeper than that, but 'deeper' does not equate 'romantic'. A romantic connection is not, by default, a representation of the deepest connection that you can have with a person. Hot take, but your partner in life is not automatically your soulmate, nor your kindred spirit. That's an addition that is rare in existence, it's not the foundation. Making that assumption is an incredibly modern takeaway, and it removes all weight of the word. But you know, let's actually take the origin of the word zhīyīn to move onto and into my next point, which is actually something that is most important to me as a writer of Guizhong.

Ping and Guizhong were, by all accounts, rivals in their area of music. The former found music to be an endeavor of the heart, while Guizhong invented an instrument that was able to compose melodies of its own accord (though also made note that it could never replicate or outdo human composers), a bit like 'AI' but in the olden days, which Ping opposed, so they clashed. Enough so that Morax had to intervene as to put a stop to it. But in this same element of musicality, they found a kinship with one another, something that they both understood (despite their differences) and bonded over. Yes, it went to a point where Ping felt like only Guizhong could understand the melodies that she composed. Only one that feels how you feel about the world around you (which is an immense thing), could come to comprehend what you mean to convey, or achieve with your song(s). We also know that they spent time together, but that isn't actually specific to their dynamic at all, and thinking so is an absolute neglect to a fundamental part of Guizhong's character. Well, you know, let's get into all of that. Because if we apply importance to all of these details, then we need to take into account that Ping was not the only one, and there is another who shared, honestly, the exact same connection with Guizhong, but over a different field of expertise.

Yes, I'm talking about our very own Cloud Retainer, the one who first properly introduces us to Guizhong as an individual (even if we technically already 'meet' her indirectly during Liyue's archon quest with Zhongli, more on that later), and the one that's entirely overlooked in this grand talk of 'those who sorely miss Guizhong'. Cloud Retainer's story with her is also described as being one rooted in rivalry, which, exactly like with Ping, is also put to rest by Morax' interventions (although this one is requested). They were both incredible inventors, and as Cloud Retainer notes in her 'Something to share' voiceline, she rather believes only Guizhong to be capable of helping her complete the larger version of her mechanical bird for all of the purposes she wants for it. Would another engineer/inventor with a similar understanding of the profound nature of mechanics (and how said inventor thinks), perhaps not be... the only one to 'understand' another? The origins of their stories— very similar, no? And yet, it doesn't stop there, and we also, at this point, need to take Morax into account as well (yes, I am pointing at the little laughing lines, just for a lighthearted addition to this long ramble of mine), but more on him as I continue.

Noting that Guizhong's time spent with Ping to be 'superior' or most meaningful is taking away, and immensely so, from the former's intricately extroverted nature. I invite you to listen to the tale Cloud Retainer recounts about her in this part of Lantern Rite's 2023 quest, so that you refresh your memory (or learn) on just how intense Guizhong was on her social gatherings, and in that, how much she thoroughly enjoyed all of the characters of Liyue, from the more known adepti, to other known gods (Marchosius) and adepti. These social gatherings, by all accounts, seem to have been entirely instigated by her, 'Guizhong often invited her friends to visit her home (...)', and it is noted that these banquets would last well into the night, until the sun rose anew. Guizhong was exceedingly extroverted, with all of the adepti, with all those she held dear, this was in her nature, and this was an incredibly common occurrence. What I'd like to point out at this point however, is that there's one place where such socializing was preserved, and that was right outside of Cloud Retainer's abode. And it's not just any 'spot', but let me explain.

For those unaware, the stone table at the beginning of the Echoes of the Heart cutscene, is still there, and can be found right outside of Cloud Retainer's abode. But it isn't just any table, its stools each bear an engraved name, one for Cloud Retainer herself, one for 'Rex' (Lapis), and one for Guizhong. It is also the only one that seems preserved, as if frozen in time. I say that, because the utensils are explicitly noted for each stool when you interact with them in-game. 'There is a bowl and a pair of chopsticks in front of the chair on the north side. Engraved on this chair is: "Here sits Guizhong."' These utensils are either replaced countless times in the 3700 years since her passing, or they're protected by adeptal energy. Both of which, I don't know about you, weaken my heart, because that to me shows an unwillingness or inability to let go, that's a continued form of mourning. That is right outside of Cloud Retainer's own abode. Tell me that this woman does not grieve the loss of Guizhong still, dare tell me that Ping outdoes everyone else's so entirely, that it should be negated or worse, neglected entirely. I know all of this is a bit of a mess, but to return to this video for a moment, tell me that Cloud Retainer does not sound as if she's still grieving, that she doesn't sound wistful. And tell me, as you read the following, what I've written so far, and after what I'm about to write still, that Ping is the only one who 'grieves' Guizhong's loss:

Paimon: Or are you saying that... it was Guizhong? Didn't she, um... already, um... Cloud Retainer: Alas... Long has one avoided this place for precisely that reason. The sights here are a reminder of a time long gone, and evoke much sorrow.

For anyone's recollection: it has been 3700 years since Guizhong died. Now, to also touch on Zhongli here, and I want to begin by reminding people of Shenhe's voiceline about him:

That gentleman claims to be a mortal, yet is very familiar with my master, who is an adeptus. Master once said: "If you see him drinking on a stone stool in front of my abode, do not disturb him. Let him sit quietly for a while." And that's precisely what I did.

And if you want your heart to break just a little bit more after you read that, then have a look at 'The Divine Stone Sees the World', the Genshin Impact EP made specifically for Zhongli by Hoyoverse, to see the visual tied to this little voiceline. Not just that, but look where he sits, look what's in front of him to find out whose seat that is. I'll let you find out for yourself, but I will say that he's not seated on his own stool. Outside of this, even while Zhongli, as one who enjoys recounting tales, hasn't spoken of her at the time of me writing this, there is so much in him that shows that he, too, is mourning or is at least remembering times long past, times that included her. I will raise the topic of the Rite of Parting that we helped him prepare during the Archon Quest, the one where we had to collect Glaze Lilies, and Noctilucous Jade, and a perfume for an older woman. All ingredients that are either directly or indirectly tied to Guizhong, no? If you agree, tell me that the Rite of Parting was for him, still. Tell me that Ping's mourning outdoes that of his, or Cloud Retainer's, like I see people on X and Tumblr respectively claim.

But then, in that light, I know that a common take to Guizhong, too, is that of polyamory, instead of acknowledging that perhaps, she was simply one who bore incredibly deep friendships across the board. Romance is not, by default, the deepest form of connection, and what saddens me more, is the willingness to make one character's being about romance. Guizhong is fundamental in the values that you see in Liyue to this day, she is more than just ship fodder, and she is more than just a character to use as 'F/F ship fodder, because I'm still waiting on a proper explanation as to why I should condemn other characters for it, or see it as canon, if there even is such a thing in Genshin Impact, outside of 'it's an F/F ship, Sae, let us have this.' No, why? If you insist on shoving it down my throat as the be all, end all, and it outdoes the connection between Cloud Retainer and Guizhong, and Morax and Guizhong, then I want more than that. Because quite frankly, I could make a better argument for the other two (not that I am, despite my bias towards the latter after a lot of crumbs all over the place, but that's a topic for another day). If people are going to make a claim for a ship, and are prepared to hate on other ships for it, then I'd love to know proper substantiation. And don't worry, 'non, I'm not talking about you whatsoever. I actually appreciate the question a lot, because this is a topic that I've been wanting to touch on (albeit, I wish I was more coherent, but I'll sum this up for Guizhong's navigation page soon). I'm just easily frustrated when people start throwing hate, and I'm tired enough that I'll verbally build castle walls to counter it.

But I'll leave you with one more point, which isn't specific to Guiping exactly, but to remind people of something fundamental about Liyue, that no other nation has done. What Liyue, and 'previously' the Guili Assembly, is so representative of, is how two 'forces' that should oppose one another, actually worked together willingly, and peacefully in perfect harmony. The 'adepti' in Liyue, outside of those who were referred to as Gods (Morax, Guizhong, and Marchosius), are elemental beings that are native to Teyvat. From what we know, outside of humanity and the 'Seelies', all life on Teyvat stems from its seven sovereigns (as we learned from Nahida's second story quest). Which means that by all logic, they should oppose everything that the Gods are, as they are, in essence, usurpers (indirectly through the Primordial One), and yet, look at what Liyue achieved that no other nation has in any such way: harmony. And not just that, but they found active, and willing cooperation with one another. And that is also what makes the concept of incredibly deep friendships between these adepti and gods that should dislike one another, incredibly beautiful. And I think that turning those dynamics into something immediately romantic, takes away from that. I think too many people forget about what makes Liyue so unique, and so gut wrenching.

P.S.: Before it's potentially pointed out, yes, I actively ship Morax/Guizhong, but I tried my best to keep that out of my opinion against Guiping being called 'canon', as it is not the reason why I oppose it, which I hope my answer made obvious. I will happily go into why I believe that those two did have a dynamic that went past a deep friendship and alliance one day, because my beliefs for it are quite vast and very deeply substantiated, and no, it is not because it is a 'hetero ship' (they're gods, I firmly believe that they defy sexes). But I'll save that for a different day.

[gcaa-official]

Welcolme Scholars and Perusers :D

We are the GCAA, a anti-Aelf group of archivists who wish to dispell misinformation and give knowledge back to Calodians.

There is much the Aelven government has tried to hide, particularly with this current Imperial Dynasty, so giving Calodians as much access as we can offer to the Realm’s most expansive archives is a long-standing goal of ours.

Please be aware that the GCAA is not an official Scribal organization, so we are not as streamlined as we would like. Posts may be sporadic, and replies late as there are many of us, and most of us live in separate timezones.

The GCAA is largely based in the Wyveri Archive, which as many know, is Calodia’s largest and most in-depth archive, having files that span eons. A large part of the information on this blog will be from the WA.

Please be respectful to our members, and each other, ask any questions you like and enjoy the hidden world of the Calodian Archives.

[translated from Aelvic to English by Scholar Korixe Tsaanwïa, ZyW]

Appendix:

‘Fact or Fiction’ game [tag: f or f poll]

‘Quick Ikretonology’ with S. Xiun Voriartum [tag: ikretonology w/ xiun]

‘Inquiries’ [tag: inquired and responded] (if a specific archivist is requested, inquiries will be tagged also with their relevant tag.)

‘What’s That Creature?’ game [tag: wtc poll]

‘Common Misconceptions’ with S. Rian Tien’er [tag: misconceptions w/ rian]

‘A Scholar’s Lament’ or miscellaneous posts about Scribery or archiving [tag: woe is the scribe]

‘Calodian History’ with S. Jillun Meracleusi [tag: history w/ jillun]

‘Tips for Travellers’ with S. Goirw Heiaviw [tag: tips with goirw]

‘A Brief Session in Language and Linguistics’ with S. Korixe Tsaanwïa [tag: lang w/ korixe]

‘Your Everyday Guide to Politics’ with S. Loggyn O’Giigeshe [tag: politics with loggyn]

meet the archivists x x (plain text ver.)

[abcmuushroom]

Table of Contents

A quick guide of how to find things in this blog

I've grouped them by category (in bold), then put the tags I use in italics, and put a quick explanation of what you'll find in that tag in this blog

Titanic stuff

titanic drabbles: mostly true, 100 or 200 words each, about people (mostly the crew) on the Titanic

titanic tweets: mostly fiction, a "what if the Titanic crew had Twitter" sort of thing

titanic art: reblogs of other people's amazing Titanic art

titanic: all things Titanic, including reblogs and miscellaneous Titanic-related posts

music

music: for posts about general or specific music (except, perhaps, some TØP posts- unless they're about the music itself)

twenty øne piløts: for posts about my favorite band (can also search for more specific tags- tyler joseph, the craving, scaled and icy, torchbearer, clancybearer, etc)

clique art: for fanart of previously mentioned TØP

the beatles: for all things beatles (with, again, specific tags included for your convenience)

other

boy meets world: posts from my boy meets world phase

history: posts, mostly reblogs but some original, about history (excluding the Titanic)

art: reblogs of art or about art, often with a side of history

literature: for, ah, posts about literature

linguistics: for posts about language (notably distinct from the above)

quotes: for. for quotes

science: for fun facts, jokes, or thoughts about science (mostly reblogs)

ocean liners: for ships that aren't the gorgeous titanic

I hope you enjoy your stay

[ilikereadingactually]

Because Internet

Because Internet: Understanding the New Rules of Language by Gretchen McCulloch

i've been wanting to read this book for ages, and my instinct that i would enjoy it proved totally true. it's a book very much of its moment (it came out in summer 2019) and McCulloch knows and embraces that, and it was actually fascinating to read a few years after the fact because even in that short time, i can already see how internet language and my own informal language have continued to change.

according to the internet speech cohorts outlined in the early chapters of the book, i am a Full Internet Person, maybe a little bit on the cusp of Old Internet Person, and i haven't felt so specifically seen since that article about the Oregon Trail Generation. but everybody's in here, pre-internet, post-internet, you name it, and the book lays out language evolutions over these waves in fun and smart and readable ways. why do boomers use ... at the ends of their texts?? why did emojis catch on?? how do memes evolve??? why do multiple question marks and almost no capitalization feel different than if i wrote this like i was about to turn it in for a grade???? go forth and read to find out!

the deets

how i read it: i read this one as an ebook on Libby, which was deceptive because there were a lot of endnotes and back matter! it was a quick read, for nonfiction, which often goes slower for me.

a line i liked: tag yourself im "kept the same username for decades even"

Those who joined the internet to meet new people kept the same username across platforms for years, decades even, so that their internet friends could find them. But for the internet users who joined in order to hang out with people they already knew, screennames were a way of performing identity, rather than obscuring it: your username might honor a favorite band or movie quote, and could change a few months later as your pop cultural allegiances shifted.

try this if you: think linguistics is cool, are an Internet Person, or want to spend hours thinking about what your top emojis say about your emotional expression (maybe that's just me?)

[spanishskulduggery]

Can you explain when to use imperfect vs preterite vs perfect past tense? I struggle knowing when to use which.

So this is going to be just a quick overview of preterite and imperfect, and I'll include more links now for more in depth things that you can look at because I talk about them very often

Preterite tag

Imperfect tag

The Perfect Tenses w/ haber

-

In many cases preterite and imperfect are both valid choices, depending on what you're trying to express: leí "I read" vs. leía "I was reading / I used to read" as an example

Preterite in Spanish is also known as "simple past"; it's used for things that have definitely happened. By "definitely" I mean there's often a time phrase associated with it that says "this happened at this time"

It typically is action or something that did specifically happen, so it can read as very clinical and matter of fact

...

Imperfect on the other hand has more uses. The linguistic term "imperfect" means "not yet completed"

Imperfect is often used with narration and description, describing the weather, the time, personalities

But the big thing that I find helpful is that in general the imperfect tense seems to be narration, while the preterite seems to be an interruption or action.

Whether you choose preterite or imperfect in some cases is more about how much description you're giving, as imperfect gives you a scenario, while preterite shows an action taking place in that scenario.

Dormía y entonces sonó el teléfono. = I was sleeping and then the phone rang. Dormía mientras sonaba el teléfono. = I was sleeping while the phone was ringing. [implying "I" didn't wake up] Dormí y sonó el teléfono. = I slept, and the phone rang. [two preterites imply a list of actions, like recalling a memory

The other very important function of imperfect tense is that it can mean "used to"; this can be done with or without the verb soler "to be in the habit of"

*Quick note on soler; it can't exist in preterite, it's usually in present tense suele ir a la playa "he/she normally goes to the beach" or imperfect solía ir a la playa "he/she would go to the beach". Because the imperfect tense can mean multiple things depending on context, soler adds a special bit of emphasis on "used to" to clear up any confusion:

Iba a la playa. = I was going to the beach. [imperfect continuous/progessive] Iba a la playa. = I used to go the beach. [imperfect, marking habitual] Solía ir a la playa. = I used to go to the beach. [habitual; soler being a clear marker of habitual]

Another common one is vivir. You could say vivía en la ciudad to mean "I lived in the city" OR "I used to live in the city", but if you wanted to be very clear - solía vivir en la ciudad "I used to live in the city"

Additional Notes:

You can only tell time in the past with imperfect - era la una, eran las dos, eran las tres etc

You can do the passive voice with preterite + past participle, and it only works with preterite here

-

The perfect tenses are a bit of a special case. I never know quite how to classify them because they can be in pretty much any tense, and they exist in indicative and subjunctive

Essentially though, "perfect" means "thoroughly done"; the same linguistic root as "imperfect" being "not yet completed"

Perfect tenses use a conjugation of haber + a past participle, and some past participles are irregular... as an example hacer "to done" turns into hecho "done"

Past participles are useful to know because they're also frequently the adjectival forms of verbs... like haber roto "to have broken", but then as an adjective roto/a is "broken"

Perfect puts things a little into the past, but it still has an effect on the present. So it is technically like a past tense, but it can be used alongside other tenses when things still have an impact

English has this same function - it's the difference between "did" and "have done"

Note: Many people use present perfect in place of preterite [simple past]. I wouldn't recommend it if you're just starting out because you shouldn't use it as a crutch, and preterite has many irregular forms you do need to know for later on

¿La viste? = Did you see her/it? ¿La has visto? = Have you seen her/it?

In that example, pretty much nothing has changed. If you use the preterite you typically would expect an answer in preterite, describing the past, la vi ayer "I saw her/it yesterday" or no la vi "I didn't see it/her" for example

If you get asked "have you seen her?" you're asking about something that still has an impact on the present... no la he visto aún "I haven't seen her yet" for example has an implication that you might see her later. Or la he visto "I have seen her" kind of invites a follow-up question; it's almost as if you know someone is going to ask you where you saw her or when, or where she is now

~

Next we have pluperfect [el pluscuamperfecto] which is an imperfect conjugation of haber + past participle

"Pluperfect" or "pluscuamperfect" is more or less "past-er than past", or "more than past"

It's talking about something that happened further in the past but still has an impact on the present situation. You see this a lot with recounting memories so it comes up a lot in first-person stories, diaries, memories, witness statements etc.

No la había visto. = I hadn't seen her. La había visto antes. = I had seen her before. Nunca habíamos viajado en avión. = We had never flown (before). [lit. "we had never traveled by plane"] Se habían hecho ricos. = They'd gotten rich. / They'd become rich. Se habían hecho ricas. = They [f] had gotten rich. / They [f] had become rich.

But if you compare present perfect and pluperfect you really see the "more past than past"

No se conocen. = They don't know each other. [present] No se conocían. = They didn't know each other. [imperfect] No se conocieron. = They didn't meet each other. [preterite] No se conocerán. = They shall not know each other. / They will not meet each other. [future] No se conocerían. = They wouldn't know/meet each other. [conditional] No se han conocido. = They haven't met each other. [present perfect] No se habían conocido. = They hadn't met each other. [pluperfect] No se habrán conocido. = They won't have met each other. [future perfect] No se habrían conocido. = They wouldn't have met each other. [conditional]

*Note: no se habrán conocido is not a super common expression but it is grammatically possible... you're more likely to see that used passively like "they shall not be known" or "you would never have known" as in "they would not have been discovered"... but that's neither here nor there

And like I said, perfect can exist in subjunctive so:

Es curioso que no se hayan conocido antes. = It's strange that they haven't met before. Es curioso que no se hubieran conocido antes. = It's strange that they haven't met before. Era curioso que no se hubieran conocido antes. = It was strange that they hadn't met before. [which sounds more narrative]

[littlewinter1917]

~ Blog Navigation & Information ~

My Masterlist

Requests are currently closed!

Send requests here or dm’ me about it, but please check out my guidelines first! (See below)

I've also decided to start doing a taglist, so if you want to get tagged in anything I write, you can fill out this form, or let me know in a comment or something <3

Kleeia ★ 20s ★ she/her ★ german-lebanese ★

~ Some more little facts ~

★ Currently doing my masters in linguistics.

★ Taurus ☉ Cancer ↑ Aquarius ☾

★ I’m completely obsessed with astronomy and languages!

★ I have my bachelors in literature and philosophy.

I’ve decided that I will now take requests, but please consider the following …

★ This is a multi-fandom blog, but I’m currently very much in my stranger things feels, so for now I’ll only take requests for that!

★ You can send your requests via asks or via dm’s; but you do have to be over the age of 18, please!

★ Between studying, working, and engaging in different hobbies, I’m not the quickest writer; So, please be aware of that when sending your requests. I want to take my time when writing, so getting to them might take some time too.

★ I try to write with an ambiguous female reader in mind.

Things I will not write (!)

Major character death

Very explicitly violent or gory stuff

Really dark topics such as sucide or rape

Exceptionally specific scenarios, or scenarios that feature very particular experiences that I have no expertise on. (Like Male! or Trans!Reader for example)

I currently won’t be taking smut requests either

Characters I currently write for (or am open to)

Eddie Munson

Steve Harrington

Chrissy Cunningham

Robin Buckley

Billy Hargrove (and no, this one is not up for debate!)

★ This blog is 18+ only. If I find out you’re a minor, you’ll get blocked!

★ This is a supportive safe-space. So there will be no hate or trash-talk on here!

★ My dm’s are always open, and I’m down to make new friends, so don’t be shy and say hi!

★ I’ve finally decided to open my asks up, but I won’t enable anons.

Thank you for checking out my blog, and I hope you enjoy your stay here, even if it's just for a quick look-around.

[delimeful]

you cant go back (3)

warnings: panic, miscommunication, trafficking, non-consensual drug use, suicidal thoughts, food, mentions of torture, cliffhanger, these tags make it sound worse than it is tbh  

-

When Virgil first opened his eyes, jerked out of sleep by sharp instinctual alarm, he’d thought for a moment that he was still dreaming.

It was the same face, after all, even with how frighteningly close it was, even with a vastly different expression painted across it. He’d been confused, almost relieved-- had they gotten away after all?-- and then he’d realized just what the Deathworlder had in their arms.

He’d lunged and come up short, forced to watch as the Human kept their arms locked around Patch even as the creature made unhappy little noises he’d never heard from it before. 

It was so small compared to the Human, easily tucked under an arm and managed regardless of protests. Did they have no respect for the deadly grace of the other creatures on this planet?

They’d circled him from a distance, ignoring his warning twitches and outright hisses as thoroughly as they ignored Patch, and all he could do was watch, locked in place, hoping that Human prey drive wasn’t as high as all the rumors said.

And then the Human had left, taking Patch with them, and Virgil had been left to watch their fading heat signature and pray to Seryl that whatever the Human did would be quick. For both of them.

It wasn’t that easy, of course. The Human wanted something from him, badly.

He thought he had a fair idea of what-- or rather, who-- it was.

After all, he’d seen a near-perfect mirror of them, sitting bound and muzzled in their transfer ship’s holding cell where a Human absolutely shouldn’t be. Leond and her Second had been unnaturally gleeful for rotations before Virgil finally found out about the ‘successful pickup’, namely through stumbling across it by doing the routine security and safety checks that he didn’t trust the rest of these idiots to do themselves.

They’d cut him off before he could get to a comm to tell Janus, cornered him in the tight cell block hall, and offered him a deal: his silence for a cut of the immense earnings they would make from renting out a Human to any and all fighting rings.

He remembered the way the Human’s gaze had flickered between him and the others curiously as he argued, the way they’d struggled to bare their teeth derisively at Leond, even through the bars of their muzzle and the haze of whatever they’d been drugged with. It was one of the last things he’d seen before he’d ‘made a fuss’ big enough that his own crew had tranq’d him and ditched him on-planet to die.

“You’re right,” Leond had said, face smooth in the way that meant smug satisfaction for her species. “We haven’t fulfilled our half of the exchange, have we? We took an alien from that planet, so it’s only fair that we leave one behind.”

His limbs had been defensively raised since the beginning of the argument, but Virgil had fought side by side with these people before. They knew how to guard his blind spots, which meant that they knew his blind spots.

The Human had tried to speak through the muzzle, just before he’d heard the discharge sound of a tranq gun too close to dodge. He thought it might have been an attempted warning.

It hadn’t changed anything. He’d been the only one on that ship who’d opposed the Human’s abduction, and as a reward, he was going to be slowly interrogated to death by one of their clutchmates. The level of cruel irony was like something from one of Jan’s stupid operas.

Virgil felt another shudder of exhaustion. Stars, he hoped Janus would get out of there once he realized what they’d brought back. His best friend knew better than to fuck with Humans, and the crew clearly wasn’t going to listen to any interplanetary ethics lectures, so the best thing he could do was skip town. Better to rebuild than fall with the nest.

He hadn’t slept after the Human had left, flipping to his heat sensor vision and watching all night for their return, unable to relax after one of the most unpleasant awakenings of his life. And if it meant he didn’t dream about what could have happened to Patches, all the better.

The next day had come, and the Human returned, wielding that dull stick and asking more angry questions that Virgil couldn’t understand, let alone respond to.

The thing was, given enough time and exposure, he actually would be able to understand the specifics of what was wanted from him.

Like most long-term interstellar travelers, he had a Lator implant, and the more the Human talked at him, the more linguistic patterns and trends would be picked up and catalogued, making it much easier for him to put the pieces together.

Unfortunately, time wasn’t something he had an excess of.

Janus would have figured out at least the basics by now; in addition to being better with words, he’d gotten a more recent, effective upgrade to the implant’s software. Virgil had turned the offer down for himself, knowing that they needed to save money where they could, and figuring that he didn’t really need it. His job was to defend Janus. His First could handle the talking part of their missions on his own with ease, the chatterbox that he was.

It had seemed obvious at the time. A lot of good that logic was doing him now.

The Human said something at him, flashing his bone-white teeth as he spoke. Humans didn’t have guard plates over their mouths at all, and so every time this one turned to him, he felt as though they were either acting sickeningly overfamiliar or that they might lunge forward and try to bite him at any moment. He’d carefully kept his own plates locked, not willing to expose any teeth and have it mistaken for a challenge.

The Human was waiting expectantly. Virgil took a deep breath and replied, the same as he had every time he could, though he doubted Humans had access to translator implants.

“I am not here to harm anyone. I was abandoned here against my will. I can’t understand what you’re saying,” he recited in Guard-tongue, keeping the sentences brief and repetitive for easy translation pattern recognition.

The Human wasn’t extending him the same courtesy, his own sentences long-winded and full of unfamiliar concepts that kept tripping up the Lator programming. References, probably.

There was one Human word that he’d figured out fairly early on: Brother.

Clutchmate, family, the lookalike that was probably long gone by now.

He was almost glad that he couldn’t speak coherently. As it was, he didn’t have to be the one to break the news.

Almost, because the Human was stubbornly finding new and creative ways to freak him the hell out with each visit.

First, they’d figured out fairly quickly that he was slowly starving.

Virgil had flooded his plates right to pitch on their first meeting, and hadn’t been calm enough to stop the defensive reaction since, which had quickly drained what little hydration stores he’d had left. Between the drying out of his plates and the fact that he’d gotten too worked up and blacked out for a moment during an interrogation, his fading health wasn’t exactly subtle.

He’d panicked, because any enemy knowing his weakness was generally pretty fucking bad, let alone an enemy with personal motive and ability to twist that weakness like a knife in the spine.

The Human had verbally freaked out (a regular occurrence) and vanished for a while, before returning to the barn with an entire array of items (not a regular occurrence). They’d set the items out on flat fiber ‘plates’ and then slid them into range with that stupid stick.

Virgil had stabbed a few of them on principle before realizing that this was food, aided by the Human rolling his eyes pointedly-- a derisive gesture, he’d gathered-- and eating something from a plate of their own.

At that point, Virgil had been willing to risk poison. The way he saw it, he either died, or he ate something, and either way it meant stopping the slow, aching pain eating away at the pit of his stomach.

He’d even been willing to tolerate the Human staring at him, since apparently they didn’t have the manners to not watch a stranger eat. Or that wasn’t a thing on this planet. It didn’t really matter.

After a significant amount of time spent using his auxiliary limbs to delicately maneuver Human produce and meats into inspection range, he settled for what smelled the least concerning, avoiding any that smelled or looked too bright to be safe.

(The scrunched-up look the Human had given him after he’d crunched an egg in his throat had been hard to interpret, though.)

Anything he could safely ingest, he’d eaten. After the Human left, he’d even attempted the indignity of trying to lift the bowl of water in range with wobbly limbs, though he’d almost immediately spilled the majority of it all over himself. It didn’t matter, he could pull any and all hydration from what he’d eaten, though he didn’t dare get used to it.

This wasn’t his first time above the nest, and he hadn’t fooled himself into believing that this shocking show of generosity would last. The Human had only done it to make sure that their hostage wouldn’t keel over.

Starvation and dehydration were more-than-effective methods of hands-off torture, after all, and the Human really only needed to give him enough to keep him alive.

The impending mistreatment shouldn’t have shaken him as much as it did. He had the advantage of the Human’s ignorance on how much Chelcerae ate, and his own resilience, developed from years of scraping by on the barest of rations. He was lucky, really, to be one of the species with a water-storing organ.

Still, he spent the night wondering if it was worth it to keep fighting. There was no escape, so wouldn’t it be better to go out on his own terms, before anything truly horrendous could happen to him?

Probably. The real question was: would he have the fortitude to turn down food all the way to a slow and painful death-via-starvation?

He wasn’t sure, and he continued to be resentful of the fact that he even had to make such a choice all the way up until the next day, when the Human walked in with a plate covered in everything he’d eaten yesterday and slid it over to him, simple as anything.

“What?” the Human snapped after a moment of Virgil watching them for any indication of what to do, and he’d hurriedly flickered his heat sensor eyes in hopes of placating any offense. The Human had grumbled indistinctly, but didn’t attempt to remove the plate or even threaten to do so.

The next day was the same. Though the Human continued to try and interrogate and occasionally intimidate him, the food and drink was provided without stipulation or hesitation. It was… strange.

Virgil refused to read into it. Perhaps Humans just had meals so frequently that skipping a single day would be as barbaric as weeks of starvation for Chelcerae. Maybe once the Human had enough of his noncompliance, they were going to feast on his flesh and didn’t want a stringy meal. It was impossible to know.

The generous feeding schedule was nothing, though, compared to some of the other questionable tendencies the Human had.

They traversed the grounds in and around the barn with little wariness, apparently quite confident in their ability to defend themself on the Deathworld they’d grown up on. They brushed insects and plant matter alike off their person with little care for poisons or bites.

Their body language seemed to consist of every threat display in the wayfarer guidebook, and worse, only a quarter of these threat displays seemed intentional. Virgil was constantly tense, attempting to figure out which were intended to cow him, and how to keep his own body language from worsening the damage. Any signal of terrified compliance, even the obvious tremor of his auxiliary limbs, only seemed to prompt wariness and confusion from the Human.

They’d found his helmet and immediately put it on, which had made his fuzz prickle with hope for a moment, before remembering that the reserve battery of the headset was well and truly dead. No emergency translators for the Human, and no upturns in luck for Virgil.

Maybe it was better. Even if the Human could talk to him, he would seem just as guilty for their brother’s disappearance in their eyes. It wasn’t even an accusation he could reasonably defend against; if things had gone differently, if he’d made smarter choices, maybe he could have gotten the captured Human free.

Janus would have managed it. He’d always been a quicker mind than Virgil.

It’d been three days since the Human had found him, and Virgil had barely managed to parse a handful of imperatives and nouns from someone who was basically just yelling the same things at him over and over.

“You can’t ---- the ---- ---------, you ----- --------! I ---- what I ---- and --- ----- to it!” the Human yelled, essentially proving his point. Virgil resisted the urge to let his chin drop down to his collar in exhausted resignation.

It was difficult to focus past the old pains from the fight with Leond, and the new pains from being strapped upright for days on end. Even if he could bring himself to pay closer attention, it wouldn’t make it easier to parse words he had no context for. Lator technology worked best when both parties were exchanging words, or at the very least, when there was more than one native speaker prattling on at you!

The Human inhaled to continue and then froze, prompting Virgil to slink his shoulders up slightly, something that had worked to show his non-aggression once or twice before. The Human wasn’t focused on him, though, whirling around to face the barn doors with their body rigid.

Because he’d never been good at uncertainty, Virgil flicked his heat-sensor eyes open just as another Human-sized mass reached the doors, moving in a predator’s stalk.

Well, he thought as the door creaked open, I’m screwed.

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Mystery Writer (Spencer Reid x Reader)

Summary: Spencer finds books at a second hand bookstore that are annotated and he falls the person writing the notes. 

AN: This was part of a fic swap on @imagining-in-the-margins​ server! This is for the marvellous @definitelynotkatesblog​ <3 I really hope you like it! I had to delete the original post because it didn't show up in the tags. This will be staying up regardless of that now.

Masterlist

Your name: submit What is this?

“If you need anything, just let me know!”

Spencer pressed his lips together at the person behind the till before heading deeper into the rows of second-hand books. Familiar titles, old and new, printed on spines in various states of pristine/decay, they tempted him to select and bring them home with him. The clear sections between biographies and fiction guided him deeper into the forest, deeper into finding his way out. He was hoping to adopt one such book for a day off, when he could revisit it with a fresh eye. It would be like seeing an old friend again, remembering why they were friends in the first place with a hint of that initial read through from years ago, and perhaps he would learn something new in the process.

A dull ache in his chest at the sight of The Sign of Four by Arthur Conan Doyle. But he had long since recovered from that heartbreak and he would be able to read this story without feeling that again.

Still. It had been several years since he read this book.

His nervous fingers plucked it off the shelf and the pages fell open for him. A flattened gum wrapper parted the pages like the Red Sea. Spencer lifted it out tentatively. Its creases were ironed in from its role as a temporary bookmark, an impression of scribbled black ink flattened after it was made.

Spencer’s eyes scanned over the page in search of what this gum wrapper might have been guarding.

“Women are never to be entirely trusted – not the best of them.”

In the margins was scribbled:

Product of the time, but still a prick, rude smartarse role a bit dull

Spencer found himself exhaling in light laughter. That a lack of empathy was considered “dull” by this person, when it was something he dealt with in his job almost every day. The confidence in this commentary too, this brazen critique of a much beloved fictional character was left for someone else to find.

His gaze found Watson’s opinion of Holmes’ casual sexism: “atrocious sentiment”. It was circled twice in the same black biro.

Spencer dug his thumb against the text block and flicked through the book. A waft of that book smell lifted from the paper, accompanied by the bold notes of the previous owner dotted across the text until he finally landed on the reverse of the front cover. Two letters – initials - were scratched onto it.

It was with bridled exhilaration that Spencer approached the till and held up the book with a half-smile. His hands were quick to place it down on the counter so that the shop assistant could type the price into the till. His mood was apparently palpable because they seemed just as happy as Spencer to hand him back the novel in a brown paper bag – the receipt tucked inside.

 --->--->--->--->--->

 “Love is an emotional thing, and whatever emotional is opposed to what is true, cold reason, which I place above all things. I should never marry myself, lest I bias my judgement.”  

What a lonely existence and also a lie. See: entire relationship w/ Dr. Watson!

Spencer smiled at this comment. Now all the other instances of a double underlining made sense. Each one produced itself in his mind as evidence that Mr Sherlock Holmes did in fact love. Maybe not marry, but it would have been terribly unconventional for him to wed Doctor John Watson. The unknown author seemed to understand this. They never emphasised if this love was platonic or romantic. But the way in which they proved love existed within this character oft portrayed as emotionless, Spencer simply adored. They were a romantic reader, who still enjoyed reading about the cynic

He grew quite aware of his posture in that moment and he straightened his back. A few clicks of complaint emitted as he stretched, his head twisting from side to side. Screwing his eyes open and shut behind his glasses, he revisited your deduction.

On the dot of the “i” in “lie”, there was a sprinkle of graphite around the indent from where a pencil’s lead had snapped from the effort put into topping off this point. A sprinkle of graphite smudged where the pages pressed together.

Spencer moved on to where a sentence in black biro tried to blend in with the printed words. A memory appeared at the front of his mind: when Rossi was bewildered to learn Spencer and Dr. Alex Blake wrote the newspaper crossword in pen.

The pencil markings were like mini brainstorms, something to revisit and make a solid theory with the black biro. But the planning was never rubbed out.

Little quotes were circled. This mystery critic spent half the book roasting the characters and the other half leaving little exclamation marks and circles around phrases and words when they couldn’t think of something to say. Spencer found it sweet, picturing the thrilling unfolding of events for the reader to revisit.

His heart ached in bittersweet memory as he recalled the contents of Dr Alex Blake’s book The Route of Linguistics. It was necessary pain to create a profile of who this mystery critic was. Yes, he was profiling out of work hours. His evenings were now spent trying to picture the voice behind the notes. The sarcasm, the witty blows to the character’s and author’s ego. He almost wished that he couldn’t read so fast because he finished the book, even with its additional notations, all too quickly. But there was one bonus.

Spencer traced the pad of his fingertip over the exclamation marks describing Mary Morstan. What else might a detractor of the great Sherlock Holmes read?

--->--->--->--->---> 

He had returned to the bookshop in favour of adopting another. Yet he could not find one that satisfied his unknown criteria. It was not until he found himself checking the front pages of the fifth book he had selected, that he realised he was looking for a pair of initials.

Sighing, he placed My Dear Bessie, with its empty front page, back on the shelf. The chances of finding another book containing this mystery critic were so minute. He could probably calculate them if he wanted to dedicate himself to such a disheartening statistic. He’d rather not spend his lunch break doing that, as much as he loved statistics. This once, they did not assure his safety and he remained unsupported by the fact that he could not find any other Arthur Conan Doyle books.

His desperation became most apparent when he thought that perhaps fate should just decide for him. If anything, he would come away with a random book to read through in about ten minutes on a flight back home.

He peeked around the corner of the shelves. The shop assistant at the till was busy writing something down, not paying any mind to the shop’s only customer.

“A random shot had no better odds than just picking books off one by one” is what he told himself as he closed his eyes and placed his fingers on the end of the shelf, just over the first book’s spine. In an “S” pattern, his arm moved up and down, over the books and shelves and gaps between units. His feet stepped forwards into the space he knew was clear.

Spencer stopped and opened his eyes, his finger shifting just an inch out of the way of his new book’s title.

Circe. Madeline Miller.

He tapped the top and the book fell forwards, where he caught it. Its shining dust jacket was serving its purpose, a few tears along the edges from where it had protected the hardcover. He checked the front page. A map of Aiaia in orange and brown filled it to the corners. On the next page, his heart stuttered at the sight of two initials in the same handwriting and the same biro. There was also a scribble - invisible to start with then a ball of black.

The first page with the story’s text held a scribble just above its opening line:

the power of the name

“When I was born, the name for what I was did not exist.”

He could see that the first was in a blunt pencil, but the addition was a sharpened point carving into the paper. A secondary thought that was provided after completing the novel, they had added it. Spencer lifted it to his face, his eyes crossing to keep the stipple in focus. The scent of the paper and the graphite reached him easily; the note must have been made just before Circe was gifted to him. How lucky he was to find such a treasure.

The shop assistant was cutting out a new sign for “BUY ONE GET ONE HALF PRICE!”. By the time Spencer made it to them, the sign was placed upon the pile besides him. The shop assistant smoothed out a crease on the dust jacket, ineffectively but Spencer admitted the gesture. He was glad that someone who loved books as much as him got to work in a place like this.

--->--->--->--->--->

Spencer’s mind, definitely for worse, echoed the words off the tabloids around his head the split second he made eye contact with the headlines. He paced the shelves to somewhere a little quieter. When he found the chocolate aisle, he pretended to peruse. Ever half a minute or so, his gaze drifted up to the till area where the shop owner was on a phone call and clearly not paying attention to him.

It was not long before Spencer grew bored of looking at KitKats, and he pulled out One Thousand And One Nights. The book’s pages fell again to page 57. This shop’s receipt stood above them, still holding its place from the previous owner. It felt wrong to part the two.

No new people had entered this corner shop for 8 minutes. He’d even given the time at the receipt’s end a fifteen-minute margin either side. Given that this mystery critic took a break from work at the same time on the same day of the week – and that they worked during the day – he should have seen them. Maybe he had, and they were that man in the baggy hoodie who stunk of weed. Probably not. Hopefully not. Not that Spencer was judging him for his… recreational activities. He just wanted the mystery critic to be someone he could realistically spend time with.

Just then, Spencer’s phone trilled annoyingly loud. He received a glare from the shop manager and Spencer sent an awkward apologetic expression his way before answering JJ quickly.

“Spencer, we’ve got a case. We need you here ASAP.”

His response was immediate. “Ok, be there in ten.” Hanging up, Spencer dithered on the spot then grabbed a packet of Cheetos. He’d been there for nearly twenty minutes; he had to get something.

“Three dollars,” the manager said before returning to his call. But not before he rolled his eyes at Spencer. Spencer dropped the bills onto the counter and dashed out before he could be offered a receipt.

--->--->--->--->---> 

  An outlier in the usual length of case work had passed by in five long days. Spencer hardly ever regretted the time he put into this job. Every unsub caught was lives saved. But the absence of his mystery commentator had been niggling at the back of his busy mind and he was glad to finally reunite with them on this long flight back.

From his satchel, he recovered the copy of One Thousand And One Nights and began rereading the notes to ground himself in the story. His focus lingered on the page as if he were reading it at the average 250 words per minute. It allowed him to block out the humming of the engine.

Spencer did not take his eyes off the page as he pulled open his desk drawer and popped a piece of overpriced gum into his mouth. Half-hearted reminders bounced in his head, from when he tried smoking and chewing gum to ease his cravings. The fruit flavour was very clearly artificial and it faded within six minutes. Why his mystery critic would pick such a pathetic packet of gum to chew, he didn’t know. But hopefully the fact of its flavour disappearing fast would mean they get through the packet quicker and buy another soon. Even if today, and the days before, spent in that shop did not lean in favour of that hypothesis.

--->--->--->--->--->

The Five People You Meet In Heaven was in the Recently Donated pile. It was near the top, slid towards the edge of the container after being placed wonkily on a copy of some sports autobiography.

Within the pages was more than Spencer could have ever hoped for. Entire paragraphs were circled, quotes underlined. A squashed mini post-it note tabbed the page and a whole paragraph was scrawled on it, about Tala. An arrow pointing to the underside, Spencer lifted the flap and saw more to read, like an interactive pop-up book that he’d gotten Henry for his second birthday. Spencer closed his eyes quick and snapped the book shut. He wanted to save it for when he was sitting comfortably, not while he was rushing back to work in time for JJ to get to her lunch break on time.

The shop assistant had just clipped the lid back onto a green highlighter when Spencer drew up to their counter. With careful fingers, he placed the book upon it. There was a twitch of the assistant’s mouth; their eyes brightened. They looked like they wanted to say something, but something else held them back from making the first move. Spencer recognised it from his school days.

“It’s a good read.” He spoke after they had typed the price into the till.

“I know,” The assistant replied instantly, a relieved smile on their lips, “What part are you on?”

“I’ve already read it, but I wanted to revisit the passage at the diner.”

“Ahh, that’s a good bit. One of my favourites.”

Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed a fraction of an inch. His gaze dropped to the nametag on the left side of their chest. Y/N, their name’s first initial. It couldn’t be.

“What did you think about the final person, Tala?”

“Oh,” The shop assistant clutched at their heart, “I was an emotional wreck before and it hit me hard just as the rest did. So bittersweet to hear her forgiveness. It took me a few times to finish reading the end, but it was all worth it.”

He couldn’t be this lucky, to get this many books from the same person and to have them standing in front of him. Spencer didn’t believe in luck.

As he reached across for his new book, he turned over the cover, “Was this yours?”

Twisting their head around to read the publication details, the assistant – Y/N - smiled sheepishly at the initials. “Yes, and I’m glad to see it go to a new home.”

Apparently luck believed in him.

“But,” Spencer felt his brows knit automatically as he looked between the book and their previous owner, “You love it. I-I’ve seen your notes.”

A hand clapped over Y/N’s mouth, “Oh God, you must have. I mean, it wasn’t the intention initially, but I thought they might be a little entertaining for anyone who picks it up to leave them in there.”

“Oh, they were! I’d love to read more of your thoughts. Hear, hear them, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Y/N checked the door to the shop, still shut, and back to Spencer. They dropped their elbows onto the countertop with their chin in their palms. “What did you wanna know?”

From his bag, Spencer procured his – their – copy of The Sign of Four and flicked through the pages. So many places to choose, but he wanted to open with what had introduced him to Y/N’s analysis.

The pair put their heads together, leaning on the counter. Spencer could smell the chewing gum on their breath. Y/N never cut him off, and he never wanted to cut them off. There were little pauses at the end of each of their turns to speak before the other picked up where they had left off. Their voices leapt from secretive whispers to passionate orations of their favourite passages, rebounding evidence and analysis off each other like a bouncy ball. Spencer finally had a voice to put to the sarcasm, the one his mind had conjured long forgotten in the wake of Y/N’s enthusiasm.

The shop’s door swung open. Spencer leapt to attention as an older woman swept in, past the two of them towards the non-fiction section. Y/N adjusted their name tag, their back straight too. The clock behind the till announced that it was now twenty minutes after the end of Spencer’s lunch break.

Running on the rush of his hobby meeting a potential friend, Spencer asked, “Can I get your number? So we can talk more, maybe swap some more books, when you’re not working?”

His luck was still by his side as Y/N wrote out their number on his receipt, written in their infamous black biro.

--->--->--->--->---> 

  Spencer leapt over to the door of his apartment, took a deep breath, and unlocked it. Stood behind where it had been was Y/N and they too were still wearing the uniform from work. Their nametag was still on their polo shirt, the same spot that Spencer wore his FBI tag.

“Can I get you a drink?” He asked the second they made a step inside his abode.

“Tea would be great. Milk and one sugar please.”

And while he was in the kitchen, Y/N rushed over to the bookshelves, their eyes wide to take in Spencer’s collection. “Oh wow! You weren’t joking!” Their finger indicated to a hard cover copy of Mean Time by Carol Ann Duffy, “That’s one of mine. Well, yours now.”

Plucking it from the shelf, they opened it up. Spencer had written his initials beside theirs.

Spencer stuck his head out in the partition, “Ours. If we’re going to be sharing.” Y/N stood on tiptoes, teeming with delight, their hands cradling the book with all the care Spencer could hope for in a fellow reader. Joint custody of their books and their passion? What a dream.

“I just have to write a little more about the epilogue, and I’ll be with you,” Y/N took their place on his couch. A pencil began scribbling away their thoughts onto the last few pages. Their knees were their desk.

Spencer finished brewing and placed the mug in front of Y/N, who mumbled a quick thank you to him. He joined them in writing his final notes. It slowed him down a considerable amount, but he was glad to take things at a casual pace, especially considering the way that Y/N almost broke their pencil as they scrawled out their thoughts for Spencer to hear later.

“Have you thought about the next one you’d like to try?” Spencer asked tentatively. He wasn’t so sure if Y/N would want to be interrupted.

Luckily for him, Y/N paused their stream of consciousness to look back at his books, “Hmm. So much to choose from.”

Stood up, their book left in Spencer’s care. They took a deep breath, closed their eyes and used their forefinger to draw a zigzag over the spines. Spencer felt that he was almost sick with joy.

Y/N stilled their wandering hand and opened their eyes, already drawing out the selected novel, “This one.”

“And what have you chosen for me next time?”

Y/N handed over The Butterfly Lion from their bag, “Ok, I can’t wait any longer, what do you think?”

They sat back on the couch. Their legs now hung over the arm of the couch, elbows either side and face cupped in their palms. The book rested in their lap. Shifting so that he faced them completely, Spencer returned to the first page and his analysis began.

[imaginethebeautifulworld]

Hello! I hope you are having a good day/night. May I ask for axis and allies plus spain, romano and prussia speaking to their s/o in their native language? Thank you very much! -Humble Anon💕

A very good morning/afternoon/evening to you as well, lovely!

When I began brainstorming these, I kept approaching this ask with the thought in mind that the S/O's first language is not the same as that of the Nation's, and aren't quite completely fluent as of yet. It made it a little bit easier for me to write, and offered me just a little more leeway to daydream. ^_^;

America:

Alfred really only does so when he's super tired, stumbling into the kitchen with bedhead to grab his first five cups of coffee, half-flopping on you as he greets you with a kiss to the cheek- ruined by his yawn- accent stronger than normal as he rumbles out a good morning, asks how you slept. He rambles lightly about his weird-ass dreams, making you smile just from his annunciations. At some point, he remembers to start translating, swapping over to the dialect you're most familiar with mid-sentence.

Canada:

Oddly enough, Matthew plays Language Tag more frequently than Al, but more often than not, it's usually an unrefined Franglish that has always irritated Francis and Arthur. (He enjoys this fact, just a little.) Around you, however, it really only flares up in moments where he's just so overwhelmed and in awe, taken aback by how much he's in love with you. Most of his petnames for you are in English, but those moments where you're both spending a lazy evening in bed, he'll happily shower you with all kinds of cheesey compliments in French, teasingly poking your nose every time you try to get him to translate.

China:

Yao has a habit of slipping back to Chinese on a whim, honestly oblivious to the fact most of the time. You've noticed it gets significantly worse whenever he's stressed, and you've learnt some very colourful nicknames for the Others over the years because of it. Despite his seemingly incessant need to pace while venting, you always manage to coax him into your arms, steadily working your fingers across his back, easy out the knots that had been plaguing him. Meetings always brought him stress, but after a good rant and a few moments of your grounding touch, he's sighing away all remaining agitation, slowly bringing himself back to you and apologising for the slip.

England:

One of Arthur's greater strengths comes in linguistics. While he would much rather prefer a courtship with an English speaker, he's not going to deny himself happiness just because of a silly little language barrier. He generally tries to keep everything on common ground, but his nicknames for you, and some of his more scandalising compliments, are murmurred in English. He always keeps it quiet, an intimacy reserved only for you. There's many a "dearest" and "darling" when first waking up in the morning, a languid greeting for the coming day. (Also, he swears mostly in English, so be careful if you decide to borrow any of his vocabulary.)

France:

Francis never hesitates to prattle in French; it's second nature to him. Sometimes, he'll hop between both yours and his preferred dialects several times in a single sentence. You know it's just part of who he is, and while it can be annoying some days, it is helping you improve your own fluency. There are also moments when he makes you weak, his expression uncharacteristically sincere, hands carefully clasping your own. He hums out a soft phrase, one you still haven't fully translated, leaning closer to caress your jaw, thumb brushing against your cheek, any number of praises passing his lips.

Germany:

Ludvig, since Day One, has tried his best to make sure you're comfortable around him, and part of that is him keeping firmly to the language you are most familiar with. When coming across words he may not be entirely familiar with, or saying a more complicated phrase, his accent may sometimes come out a bit thicker than would be normal. The only time he really slips into German is when he's on the phone with folks from his government. You don't mean to eavesdrop on the latter, but you do enjoy how much deeper his voice tends to get when he's being "professional." Secretly though, you have to admit his voice when he sleeptalks is your favourite of them all. 

Japan:

Kiku constantly, and often unnecessarily, goes out of his way to make sure that you're comfortable, and despite your arguing against it, one of his ways of trying to do so is to only stick the language you both share. Frankly, you love hearing him speak Japanese, even though you really only hear it when he's at the store, and sometimes to the servers during date night. You love how gentle his voice is, his accent adding almost a sweetness to his words. Lately, you've been debating how to tell him that you'd like to hear it more, but for now you savour the little pieces you've collected over the past few months.

Prussia:

You learnt some time ago that Gilbert quietly speaking in German actually helped you fall asleep significantly easier. For that reason, he primarily only does so while either headed to bed, or whenever you're spending an afternoon together in the library. He'll sometimes read to you, but mostly he tends to ramble. You only understand a handful of the things he's saying and assume that he's regaling you with tales of days long past. In reality, he's running through his checklist for car parts he wants to fix, complaining about something stupid Roderich did back in 1648, and most often- when you're on the cusp of sleep, breathing deep and relaxed, his hand resting on your back- he's listing off every single thing he's come to love about you, not as afraid of his vulnerability when you're hardly conscious enough to hear it.

Romano:

Lovino spent too long relearning Italian to ever abandon it, even for your sake. He casually weaves it into regular conversation, the endearments, greetings, exclamations, and nicknames fluidly blending into the ordinary. He figured out quite a while ago that you actually enjoyed his "slip ups," so he's especially generous on date nights, about half of the words he's saying falling around you in his unique dialect. He once told you that you should be grateful, that he was blessing you with "the most beautiful language in the world." And begrudgingly, lost in his smile and the way the candlelight makes his eyes spark, you have to agree.

Russia:

Over time, one of your favourite pastimes with Ivan has becoming hunkering down on a settee by the fireplace, where he'll work on his knitting. The best part of these moments, especially on particularly frigid mornings where you've no obligations, is that Ivan will start to sing to himself, always pieces in Russian. Sometimes they're lullabies he's picked up from the royal families over the years, sometimes they're peasant rhymes he's known since childhood, and on some rare occasions, he'll sing something from an opera he fell in love with back in 1872. He'll often pepper in a few casual words here and there, always with a lightness to it, but you're absolutely addicted to how full his voice sounds when he sings.

Spain:

Antonio is actually the worst of the bunch. He can and will ramble in Spanish, a lot, so much so that some of it has permanently rooted itself into your own vocabulary, some of your replies slipping out without pause these days. He tends to catch onto his slip-ups quickly at least, quickly sliding back into your shared venacular with a quick apology. Still, you'll often hear him singing in Spanish, greeting the plants in Spanish, talking to the cats in Spanish. He's particullarly bad at losing himself whenever he's invested in a football match, or if you happen to catch him irritated about politics. Tonio has taught you quite a few colourful curses over the years, smattered with some day-to-day phrases you've both come to recite by default.

Veneziano:

Feliciano is surprisingly good at sticking to the language you feel most comfortable with, though he's notorious at mucking up the number of syllables in certain words. You have a strong suspicion he does this intentionally, this elongation solely designed to annoy you, especially as he always seems slightly bemused each time he does it. Regardless of how annoying he can be in your language, you do love eavesdropping on his conversations with his brothers, chattering away in Italian, his words and hands moving far too quickly for you to even hope to follow along. There's something so soothing in listening to him speak, even if he is producing 500 words per minute.

Thanks for the ask, Anon! I hope you enjoyed~

[bazzybelle]

Magical Equality Within The World of Mages

I’ve been thinking a lot since I finished reading Any Way The Wind Blows, and there are SO many things that I still need to process. I took my time with reading it, I’ve listened to the audiobook and I plan on re-reading it several times, once I move into my new house and have THAT stress done and over with. I cannot wait to re-read it on my back porch with some iced tea and a notebook to annotate and comment on pretty much everything that gave me feelings.

But for now, there is one massive issue that I want to address, and it plays into the plot for all three books.

Warning for those who have not read Any Way The Wind Blows, this post contains spoilers, so proceed with caution. I am tagging this appropriately, but adding an extra warning just in case.

Huge thanks to @carryonsimoncarryonbaz for reading this over and making sure I didn't sound like a rambling mess.

The World of Mages is an incredibly toxic place! This is especially true for anyone who isn’t a magical powerhouse, or stupid rich.

I’m going to not focus on the obvious socio-economic bullshit, because I’m not familiar enough with the British class system to properly comment on it. But if anyone wants to add onto this with a whole meta like that, please do so!

Instead, I’m going to focus on magic use and how detrimental it can be to grow up in this world if you aren’t one of the few who are blessed with the RIGHT kind of magic (I say right kind of magic for a reason, and I’m going to come back to that). I want to focus my attention on three characters (two of whom were drawn into Smith-Richard’s fake promises, and one who was just fed up with it all): Martin Bunce, Daphne Grimm, and Agatha Wellbelove.

1) Martin Bunce: We first hear about Martin Bunce in Carry On. He’s Penny’s dad, a renowned scholar and is leading a team researching the effects of the Insidious Humdrum. He’s a highly respected individual, in his own right. Penny adores him, she only speaks his praises, and I get the feeling she gets along better with Martin, then she does with Mitali. When Penny needs help with Shep’s curse, she trusts her dad to help her after her mother flat out refuses.

While Martin is respected in the community, he isn’t a magical powerhouse. In fact, he isn’t very powerful at all. Baz makes a cheeky little comment about how he must have come from mundanity with a name like “Bunce”, and he doesn’t teach any magical classes at Watford, he focuses mainly on Linguistics.

Professor Bunce is one of the people taken in by Smith-Richard’s message, and I’m kind of glad he is. It shows that Smith-Richard’s message can reach anyone, even someone as scholarly and learned as Martin. Martin Bunce is intelligent, loving, devoted, and the apple of his family’s eye. But, when push comes to shove, all that does not matter because in the end, he isn’t as magically powerful as his wife and kids. How many times has Martin been compared to his wife? How many times has he been compared to his kids? What was it like going to Watford and having to hear about how you barely scraped by in the magical classes? His whole family is obsessed with magic, his daughter's best friend is the Most Powerful Mage. Martin is constantly surrounded by people making comments about power and magic and being strong enough as a magician.

That stuff stays with you... So when you see someone performing magic that can pull you to your full potential, of COURSE you grab onto it and hope that it’s a real thing.

Something interesting to note here; Towards the end of AWTWB, Martin casts a drinking spell, and Baz makes a comment about anyone who could cast that spell in quick succession doesn’t need a power-up. Now, was Martin truly not powerful, or did he just not have the right type of magic? Could he have been a better magician if he was able to find the right situations where his magic responded better? If he was allowed to learn in a way where his magic could have reached its full potential, without the use of a horrible curse?

I have a teaching background, and I’ve worked with a lot of kids in Inclusive Education. I’ve had to differentiate practically all of my lesson plans so that all the kids in my classroom would understand the lesson and be able to reach the goals outlined for them. Admittedly, it’s been a while since I’ve taught, but I look at stuff like this in the World of Mages and my teaching ear perks up.

2) Agatha Wellbelove: Another person who comes to mind, especially with not having the right kind of magic is Agatha Wellbelove. Agatha does not see herself as a very strong magician. She tells Simon that magic for her is like holding a muscle. Pair that up with a mother who is OBSESSED with magic and power and who’s got the most power, and which magical matches will bring about powerful children, and you get someone who becomes resentful of the whole effing thing! I’m not even going to touch the whole “dating the Chosen One” thing because that’s a whole other can of worms.

When we first meet Agatha, she’s already fed up with magic, and wants nothing to do with it, and I can’t say I blame her. She spends all of Wayward Son running away from magic, and meandering through life, being still so unsure of herself and of her place in the world. She calls herself a poor excuse for a magician, yet she manages to save both herself and Penny from the NowNext by summoning fire! That’s a huge flipping deal! Not everyone can do that, yet Agatha is able to summon the power inside herself to do so! Imagine the wonderful magic she could have done if she was taught in a way that spoke to her.

In AWTWB, she is the ONLY person who is able to get through to the Goats. Her magic seems to be connected to nature (if I had to guess). The Dryad, all the way back in Carry On, tells Simon that she and the others find Agatha “peaceful”. That’s her magic. Agatha was able to come full circle by finding peace with the magic she has. She was able to find a place for it. What’s sad is that she felt the need to run away and not want to have it in her life anymore. Her magic is beautiful, yet not enough.

3) Daphne Grimm: So, this is the character that stood out to me the most. Daphne is the reason I even wanted to write this commentary. Those of you who know me, know that I adore this character. Partly because, I’m obsessed with the idea that Baz has people looking out for him and who care about him.

Anyway, Ms. Daphne Grimm is the apple of my eye essentially. I love her, I adore her, and she is treated SO UNFAIRLY by the World of Mages.

What do we know about Daphne? She is Baz’s stepmum, and has four kids with Malcolm. From the first book, there are snarky little comments about Daphne’s lack or power and magic. Baz himself makes a shitty comment about how Daphne’s “blood is as thin as gruel”, even though Daphne goes out of her way to make sure he’s got food sent to his room. She’s extra careful in making sure Baz feels safe in his own home. She suggests to Malcolm that Baz should see a therapist for everything he’s been through, making her the ONLY parent who not only acknowledges her child’s trauma, but tries to do something about it!

She is a GOOD mom!

Ok, we know that Baz wears a ton of masks of indifference in Carry On, and he softens up tremendously in Wayward Son, calling her lovely while teaching him to drive a car.

We learn a lot about Daphne in Any Way The Wind Blows. Namely that Fiona has some pretty nasty opinions about her. (That comment about her kids not being legitimate, and that she’s as “thick headed as she is thin blooded”. Now, imagine you’re Daphne, and the widower of the Great Natasha Pitch asks to marry you. That’s already some MASSIVE shoes to fill. You accept, and you do the best you can, taking care of his son and being a positive presence in his life, meanwhile going to all these posh functions where EVERYONE talks about power and magic. Then to have the sister of your husband’s first wife make snarky comments about your level of power and magic.

That stuff sticks with you.

Daphne doesn’t want her kids going to Watford, the ONLY magical school in the UK (as far as we know). She wants her children to succeed and be known for everything they are capable of doing, instead of being ridiculed for all the ways they’ll come up short. According to Baz, the only reason Daphne graduated from Watford was because she was smart enough to pass every exam (yet, Fiona still makes snarky comments about her intelligence).

Daphne is well aware of how painful it can be to live in the World of Mages and not be a powerhouse magician. Like Martin, she takes matters into her own hands and seeks out a way to make herself more powerful.

It is heartbreaking to look at these three amazing, beloved characters, and think about the suffering they have had to endure by their peers. Both Daphne and Martin get frustrated when those around them question their choice to follow Smith-Richards, stating “you don’t know what it’s like”. Luckily for Daphne, Baz makes an effort to actually understand her, and doesn’t judge her. Even when Fiona mocks her, Baz defends his stepmum. When Daphne berates herself and compares herself to Natasha, Baz reflects on how Natasha would have killed him (something Daphne would NEVER do to any of her children).

We know that Watford did not allow magical creatures, or differently-abled magicians (I use this term for a reason) to study there until the Mage came around and allowed everyone into Watford. This was a great thing, because now, every magical child was given the opportunity to learn how to speak with magic.

However, it should not have stopped there. I spoke earlier on differentiation and on finding the right place for everyone’s magic. What if magicians like Martin, and Daphne, and Agatha are all powerful in their own right, and they just haven’t found their place where their magic fits? Instead of finding the right way to teach these magicians, they are left to struggle and ultimately resent their magic and the magic of the world around them.

Do I hear a social commentary on the state of standardized education? I can’t really comment on the British Educational System, nor the American one, as I am Canadian. What I can say, from my own experience in Canadian classrooms, is that for all the talk we do on making education inclusive, there is still a big push from higher ups for high grades and standardized testing. If any of my followers are British or American and care to share your two cents, feel free to do so. Let’s keep the conversation going!

I think this post might have gotten away from me. I think my point was to act as a defense for people like Daphne and Martin who found themselves fished into a scam all for the promise of feeling like they are enough in their world. I also wanted to defend people like Agatha, who did all she could to run away from all of it, only to find the place where she (and her magic) belonged.

I remember having this discussion on Discord, and one of the points that came up was that maybe The Greatest Threat to the World of Mages was this deeply ingrained prejudice over magicians with different sorts of magic. Magicians who need that extra bit of help to find their way.

We’ve seen in this series how these prejudices can threaten to split the World of Mages apart, and it looks like magicians like Penny, Baz, and Agatha are learning from these mistakes. Only time (and us fanfiction writers) will tell how they end up shaping their world for the future generations.

[writingwithcolor]

Adopted Mixed Egyptian-Italian, Some Notes on the Coptic Diaspora

@k-herrold said:

I have some doubt about a character of mine, who is mixed Egyptian/Italian, but gets adopted by an Italian woman and has no relationship with either of their parents. I intended to write this character raised into italian culture by their aunt because thats the only one she knows, but I'm thinking: should I give them some knowledge about egyptian culture too? Or should I avoid this topic? I'm a white italian, maybe I'm not the right person to write about this

First part’s easy: YES! YES! Please let them know their Egyptian culture and heritage, there’s no reason why they couldn’t, and a disconnection/reconnection narrative is best suited towards Ownvoices (read this tag on cultural disconnection for why). 

If your character’s heritage is Muslim Arab Egyptian, get thee to the Arab and Muslim tags. This post on an Egyptian Muslim adoptee may be helpful. If your character’s heritage is Coptic, continue as I will give you some research items to consider. 

From what I know on the topic of language revitalization, I can tell you that the Coptic language and culture is in a precarious position. Ever since the Muslim conquest of Egypt, the Copts have been a minority, and have faced persecution from the government and genocidal attacks from extremist groups. Do research on the history here, as there’s quite a lot that’s happened. Arabic is the only official language of Egypt, and this has led to the significant decline in Coptic speakers. There has been an effort on the part of the Eastern Orthodox church to revive Coptic, but it is heavily mixed with Greek influences; revitalization efforts for more traditional forms of coptic are currently being undertaken by modern linguists, Egyptologists, and religious leaders. Take a quick look at this AP Archive story for more context on both the linguistic and cultural front (the video is un-subtitled, sadly, so consider it a supplement to the actual transcript and storyline on the page). All this to say that keeping her already in touch with their culture & language will mean a lot. 

There are many Coptic diaspora groups, with a notable destination being Italy, in fact! Perhaps you already knew this? This means that your character will probably have more resources to stay in touch with their heritage as opposed to living elsewhere in Europe, which is great. As for how the character might reconcile Italian Catholicism and Coptic Christianity, or what cultural connection looks like for them, I have no expertise or experience; your best bet is to find a Coptic Christian to consult. Since you’re Italian, use that to your advantage and find Italian-language sources on the Italian Coptic diaspora community. Cheers,

~ Mod Rina

As an adoptee raised by an Italian mom, I was still given some exposure to my own Chinese culture. My mom exposed me to Chinese language courses, Chinese lunar new year, and a Chinese mythology book when I was little. I highly recommend giving this character knowledge about their own Egyptian culture. Cultural disconnection, which is what I experience as an adoptee, is definitely best suited to ownvoices only because white people writing about cultural disconnection sounds like erasure. Good luck!

~Mod Sci

Calling all followers with Coptic heritage, let us know your thoughts! Your input is appreciated :)