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intuitive-revelations · 2 days ago

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Headcanon: one of the reasons why Gallifreyan is a) so complex, and b) so inconsistent, is because it's less one language and more a complex mishmash of thousands of languages and dialects.

Think about how one of the reasons English can be complex to learn is because of the mix of Germanic and romance language roots, and now take it up to 11.

While one might expect Gallifrey to be monolingual, given its age and class structure, this probably isn't technically the case. After all, why limit your culture to one language when the average citizen is effectively panlingual (to the point that TARDIS translation circuits are actually dependent on their pilots' knowledge, rather than the other way round)?

Thus, if there once were distinct languages on Gallifrey, they probably have all been merged at this point into modern Gallifrey's super-Esperanto. Add in loan words from notable civilisations across all of spacetime (but likely primarily from Gallifreyan colonies and allies like Dronid, Minyos, Cartego etc.), and it quickly becomes quite unwieldy.

It's also likely that there's a lot of overlap between these sub-languages, which can make distinguishing meaning hard to an outsider. Gallifreyans likely get around this courtesy of their telepathic connections.

TBH, given Time Lord sensibilities, it's likely that every single word variation has its own delicate meanings, derived not just from their societal uses but also from the etymology and history of each one. Canonically (though I don't have a source) we know that there are 30 different words meaning "culture shock", for example, which likely have very minor distinctions in meaning. We also know, unsurprisingly, that there's at least 208 tenses to help in describing time travel.

As an example - imagine being a Sunari ambassador at an embassy gathering and accidentally offending every Time Lord in the room because you accidentally used a definite article derived from the memeovored Old High Tersuran colony dialect, now considered low-brow by association with modern Tersuran, when you intended to use a nearly identical form of the word originating from the Founding Conflict, a triumphant post-Rassilonian intervention, distinguished by a near-imperceptible glottal stop.

It's likely that some of these Gallifreyan sub-languages/dialects may still be spoken with increased frequency under certain conditions, such as in one's own House or when visiting other city complexes. We know, for example, that Arcadia seems to be associated with a "Northern English" accent (which Nine picked up subconsciously post-regeneration, with the Fall of Arcadia being one of the last things the War Doctor remembered before DOTD's multi-Doctor event - hence "lots of planets have a north") when translated, which may indicate some dialect differences in the original language. I suspect there is a societal expectation for Gallifreyans to code-switch depending on the situation, with Citadel business generally expecting the Gallifreyan equivalent of RP, though it's relatively common for Time Lords less concerned with respectability and politicking to not comply.

One nice benefit of all this complexity, and the reason I made this post, is that there's a good argument to be made that every fan attempt to construct a Gallifreyan language can be 'canon', contradictions and all.

Greencook Gallifreyan? A formal evolution of Pythian prophecy scripture into the post-Intuitive Revelation era (based on its similarities with the Visionary's scrawling in The End of Time).

Sherman Gallifreyan? A modern katakana-like phonetic alphabet for the rapid-onslaught of new loan words following President Romana's open academy policies. Recently adopted by the Fifteenth Doctor for writing human proverbs.

Teegarden Gallifreyan? An archaic but recognisable near-Capitolian dialect from the Prydonian mountains, once spoken by Oldblood houses like Lungbarrow and Blyledge.

Or, in a nutshell, the state of Gallifreyan conlangs (and maybe in-universe Gallifreyan dialects):

I guess the dream project would be to accept the complexity and create some sort of grand modular "meta-Gallifreyan" conlang, merging as many fan interpretations as possible with their own distinctions and overlaps, that can continue to be updated as new ideas come up and new stories are released...

#Doctor Who #Gallifrey #Gallifreyan #Conlangs #DW Theory #DW Meta #Doctor Who EU #long post

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innocet · 11 months ago

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Sherman's Gallifreyan is interesting in this regard — because I think it did appear a couple times on the show before? But not on such a prominent prop yet, as far as I remember. And I, too, am so happy that now it has. :) Because I've been doing another thing in personal writings for a while — combining it with Teegarden Gallifreyan, which is a conlang without a documented script, at least not anywhere I can find, to get writing where both layers are not-English. It's fun either way, with one or both layers, though. I've wondered before what the 'this is only a script, not an entire conlang' thing is supposed to mean in-universe. Does the TARDIS translate the language, but not the script? Does the Doctor write some things in English, but in Gallifreyan script for some reason or other? Is Gallifreyan just canonically English with weird letters, like the whole 'you look Time Lord, we came first' thing? Is this all linguistic bubble wrap that represents, theatrical-style, something weirder but less achievable in practice? Fascinating to think about.

Yeah!! I know basically nothing about linguistics; my fluency in Sherman's came from a habit of doodling in it while in high school, so I don't have many coherent or valuable thoughts about it as a diegetic language. As with all translation matrix implications, it's all a bit wibbly. I think what actually might be going on in-universe with this language is Weird, and what we're seeing is a narrative tool to stop episodes from becoming hour long debates about the nature of translation.

#linguistics is hard for me to wrap my brain around #i'm not smart in that way. yet #i come adjacent to it because adaptation theory rubs up against translation theory which also Isn't linguistics but there's overlap

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giovanni-bottesini · 3 years ago

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I have to keep making my blog uglier to offset the amount of popularity I've been gaining from my conlang

#teegarden's gallifrey #gallifreyan #conlang #doctor who #classic doctor who #classic who #gallifreyan language #teegarden gallifreyan

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giovanni-bottesini · 2 years ago

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ndabrassik marras, stelay meklosekyezlindbasgallifreyanotol. oola menda agzitocrasbasvaxayraam stelaydvosegraxoz.

(Important news everyone, this is only a blog in gallifreyan now. I think that approximately four people on the internet will greatly enjoy this.)

Knulla det, alla på tumblr lägger ut på sitt modersmål och sen sitter alla andra med översättningsverktyg för att förstå. Väldigt ineffektivt men jag tror att det kommer öka den biologiska mångfalden både i språk och discourse

#teegarden's gallifrey #teegarden gallifreyan

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languagelearningmybeloved · 2 years ago

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hello! my name is blue and i absolutely adore language learning and linguistics, i am currently learning

-spanish (in which i can hold the most basic conversations

-hebrew (i know 3/4s of the alphabet)

-teegarden's gallifreyan (i know the pronouns)

-klingon (first two sections in duolingo)

my main is @lycanthropyecstasy which is where ill follow & like from.

a little bit abt me rn: i, down the line, want to be a translator, in some capacity! i currently work 6 days a week, 10 hour days at a factory so my personal time is really cut short, i love doctor who and star trek, our flag means death, and the good-place. i am trans, aromantic, and currently in a qpr relationship

i will use this blog for memes, resources, and as a way to practice the languages by posting in target languages

¡adiós!

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regenderate-fic · 3 years ago

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And Still I Will Live Here: Chapter 5

Fandom: Doctor Who Rating: Teen Ship: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler, Metacrisis Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Characters: Tenth Doctor, Rose Tyler, Jackie Tyler, Pete Tyler, Tony Tyler Series: And We’re Not Out of the Tunnel Word Count (Chapter): 2,484 Other Tags: Pete’s World, Pete’s World Torchwood, Angst, Chronic Illness, Disability, Disabled Character Read on AO3 / Read in order

Summary: Rose has been tired for a couple years now. She thinks it’s from working so hard on the dimension cannon without a break, but then she gets a break and she doesn’t quite recover. Finally, she starts going to doctors, but they’re no help. At least John (the metacrisis Doctor) is with her every step of the way.

(Fic is COMPLETE with chapters posting Tuesdays and Fridays!)

NOTES: posting early again because i am very very tired. just like rose! also my knees hurt. just like rose.

the phrase "my second heart" in this fic is based on a concept from @giovanni-bottesini's teegarden gallifreyan, which is an absurdly comprehensive conlang of gallifreyan. also i stole the idea of tentoo using it for rose from @mouserat-vevo. thank you to discord friends for enabling me every day <3 and thank you to the wldw server for allowing for idea communism

next chapter is the last one!

The wedding is a month out, then two weeks, then a day. It’s going to be a relatively small affair, an August wedding in the Tylers’ backyard, but that doesn’t mean Jackie hasn’t gone all out with the decorations and the catering and everything else. They’re going to put the altar in front of a fountain, using an existing footpath as an aisle. Tony is going to be the ring bearer, a task he’s taking extremely seriously, and Pete’s agreed to give Rose away. She’s decided to walk: she can manage a short distance, and she trusts her dad and John to support her if she needs it. And they’re not inviting anyone who won’t understand if she needs to sit down mid-ceremony.

On the day of the wedding, she wakes up with John in the Tyler mansion— they’re not doing the thing where they don’t see each other on the wedding day. Maybe, in yet another universe, where the two of them are guaranteed a lifetime together, they could waste the hours before their wedding: but in this universe, all they are guaranteed is today. So they wake up together and get ready in the same room, John looking dashing in his tuxedo. Jackie’s hired someone to do Rose’s hair and makeup, her veil pinned to a complicated nest of braids and curls, her eyes dusted with gold. And as promised, Jackie decorates the chair, winding white tulle and leafy garlands around the handles and arms, weaving ribbon through the wheels’ spokes. When Rose looks in the mirror, extending delicately gloved hands to touch the wheels, she sees herself as the beautiful bride she never quite thought she’d be, and for a moment, happiness bubbles up in her chest.

And then it’s time for the ceremony. Rose, hidden away in a little tent at the back of the yard, stays in her chair until the very last second: the only way she’ll be able to stand later is if she conserves her energy now. Her dad’s back there with her, and Tony, holding two rings tied with ribbon to a pillow, standing straight up in his tiny little suit. He’s determined to do the ring bearer position justice, and Rose is nothing but grateful.

They don’t have a wedding party— they thought about it, but decided that the simpler the ceremony was, the easier it would be on Rose. So when the music starts, Tony walks out first, the pillow held out in front of him, and Pete helps Rose to her feet. She’s lucky: today’s a good day. The kind of day where she can stay on her feet for longer than a few minutes. The kind of day where she can take her father’s arm and follow her little brother out onto the path.

She squints, her eyes adjusting to the afternoon light. Friends and family are seated in folding chairs on either side of the cobblestone footpath, cousins and friends and coworkers all together. She can see her mum up at the front, twisted around in her chair with baby Gabriel in her arms, and straight out in front of her, at the end of the line, is John, his eyes locked to hers. And it’s like everything around them has frozen, and the only things in the world are John, standing at the altar in his tuxedo, and Rose, taking step after step to get to him.

Her breath catches as she thinks about the married life she and John could’ve had, in another timeline— they could’ve kept working together, lived in a nice little house, even had kids, maybe. The tears start to fall. She spares a passing thought to her makeup, glad the artist thought to use waterproof mascara.

Pete lets go of her as they approach the altar, and Rose takes the last few steps on her own, reaching out for John. He keeps his hands on her upper arms, not supporting her weight so much as reassuring her that he won’t let her fall. When she looks up at him, she sees that he’s crying too, tears tracking down his face. It’s as much a funeral as a wedding.

Their officiant starts his script, welcoming everyone to the ceremony, introducing John and Rose. Rose is barely listening. The only thing in her life, at this moment, is John, standing in front of her with his beautifully open face and his perfectly tailored tux.

They’ve written their own vows. John’s are first.

“Rose Tyler,” he says, his eyes never leaving hers. Everything is in his voice: every emotion, every bit of himself. “My second heart. I love you, and I will always love you. No matter how far apart we are, in this universe or any other. It is my honor and my privilege to give myself to you, every single day. I will be proud to be your husband.” He’s really crying now, and so is Rose. She doesn’t know why she decided to stand for this— the crying is making her dizzy.

It’s her turn.

“John,” she says, groping for the words she wrote down weeks ago and committed to memory. “I can’t imagine myself spending my life with anyone but you. I love that I get to wake up next to you. I love that I get to work with you. I love that everything I go through, I get to go through with you. I love you, John.” She manages to smile through her tears as she parrots his own words back to him. “In this universe, or any other. I am so, so happy to call myself your wife.”

Both of them, now, are sobbing uncontrollably. Rose is holding on to John’s forearms for dear life, and he’s supporting her, and their officiant is looking a little uncomfortable.

“Erm.” He adjusts his glasses. “Do you, John Noble, take this woman, Rose Marion Tyler, to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, to keep and to love, for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do.”

Rose’s grip on John’s arms tightens.

“Do you, Rose Marion Tyler, take this man, John Noble, to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, to keep and to love, for as long as you both shall live?”

Rose looks at John. Love fills her chest and her stomach, radiating out, mixing with the sadness that has consumed her ever since they realized what they had to do. All she is, it seems, is wrapped up in these emotions. “I do.”

“It is now time for the exchange of rings.” The officiant keeps talking, and once again Rose isn’t listening. Tony’s come up to them now, proudly holding the pillow above his head, and Rose can’t help but smile down at him, even through all the tears. At the officiant’s signal, John bends down to untie Rose’s ring, a thin silver band, and slips it onto her finger, where it perfectly complements the one he gave her upon their engagement. And then Rose unties John’s— his is a thicker band, with an indent running all the way around the middle. The rings fit together: the indent in John’s is just the size of Rose’s band. Rose slides it onto John’s finger, and something seems to slide into place within her. This is how it’s supposed to be: her and John, bound together forever.

“By the power vested in me,” the officiant says, “I now pronounce you husband and wife.” And then, after a too-long pause, “You may kiss the bride.”

The second their lips touch, Rose is overwhelmed. She clings to John, trying to hold every single piece of this perfect moment in her mind: she’ll need the memory down the line. This is all she’s wanted for years now— and it won’t last. She won’t be able to stay. But it’s still worth every second.

The officiant presents them to the crowd as Mr. and Mrs. Tyler-Noble— they’ve decided to hyphenate, so each of them will always have a piece of the other. And then they walk back down the aisle, John’s arm around Rose’s waist. It takes too long, Rose becoming dizzier with every step, but she makes it back to the tent and her chair without falling or fainting. She closes her eyes for a second, trying to readjust, and when she opens them, John is kneeling next to her.

“How are you doing?” he asks quietly.

Rose hesitates, trying to evaluate. She’s still a bit dizzy, and her legs hurt from standing for so long, and of course she’s more tired than she’d like to be, but— “I’m all right,” she says. She looks at John, her husband, and leans in to kiss him. “I’m glad we did this.”

“Me, too.” John gives her a small smile. “Ready to go back out there?”

Rose nods. He pushes her back onto the footpath, and they make their way over to the tent that’s been set up on a wide expanse of grass. Jackie had the foresight to put in a false wood floor so Rose can use her chair: John only has to get her across a few yards of grass before her wheels are rolling on the smooth material.

The guests cheer for them as they make their way to the head table, and once they’re there, Jackie and Pete and Tony descend upon them with hugs and congratulations. Jackie’s given Gabe to the babysitter to put to bed, but Tony’s been determined old enough for the party. He climbs right onto Rose’s lap, ignoring any and all protests, and Rose laughs, adjusting him so he’s sitting securely on her thigh. There’s a space left chairless for her at the table, and John wheels her right up, taking his seat next to her. He takes her hand, and she squeezes. She doesn’t dare let go.

Jackie, as the mastermind behind the whole affair, welcomes the guests to the reception. She’s remarkably composed, but Rose can see tears in her eyes. She ends on a toast— “To my beautiful daughter, and her wonderful husband. May their love last.” Rose lifts her glass, clinking it with John’s and Pete’s and Jackie’s. Tony, feeling left out, squirms over the side of Rose’s chair and runs around the table to get to his seat and join in the fun, and Rose reaches her glass to his, too.

And then the caterers start bringing out the food. They’re only doing two courses and dessert, again with Rose’s stamina in mind— the more food there is, the harder it will be for her to eat. It turns out not to really matter, though. Between the conversations with her family, the people coming up to congratulate her, and her hand still resolutely clasped in John’s, she barely gets a chance to try the food. Somewhere in the middle, she manages to forget all the sadness, everything that’s coming next, and she finds herself grinning ear to ear, losing herself in the joy of being married to John.

The meal rushes by. It’s too quick, really. One minute, Rose is dipping her spoon into a full bowl of soup, and the next, she’s finished with her plate of chicken. And suddenly the DJ is walking over, asking Rose and John if they’re ready for the first dance.

This is the only other part of the night Rose has decided to stand for. It’s only a few minutes, and a slow dance means John can support her. Her body will hurt tomorrow, but today, this is what she wants. So as the music starts, she lets John pull her to her feet, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck. He holds her by the waist, and they step out onto the dance floor, moving in time to the slow strains of violins.

The song is only three minutes long, but it seems to last forever, Rose’s head nestled against John’s chest, his arms solid around her waist. They step in circles around the dance floor, and Rose is vaguely aware of all the people watching them, but every cell in her body is dedicated to knowing how wonderful it is to be in John’s arms, dancing at their wedding, relishing their love. She can feel his single heartbeat against her ear, and she closes her eyes, allowing herself to be totally enveloped.

The music fades away, replaced with something faster, and the DJ invites everyone to come onto the floor. Rose and John stay for a few more moments, still lost in each other, but as the floor gets crowded, Rose’s legs start to shake, and she pulls away slightly. John understands immediately, and he holds her up, his arm around her waist, as they move back to the table.

The evening progresses as planned: they watch the dancers, cut the cake, and eventually move back out on the dance floor, mostly motivated by Tony pulling at Rose’s arm until she wheels herself out there. She dances with him, holding his tiny hands, moving her upper body, and spinning herself in circles, until Jackie swoops in and tells him it’s time to go to bed. He whines about it, but Rose is sure he’ll fall asleep the second he gets inside.

Finally, the party is over, the guests coming over to give Rose and John their congratulations as they trickle out, leaving the tent empty but for Jackie, Pete, Rose, and John.

“What a beautiful night,” Jackie says, falling into a chair.

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” John says. He’s still holding Rose’s hand, his thumb drawing circles on her palm.

Rose nods her agreement. “Thanks, Mum. It was amazing.” She yawns.

“We’d better get you home.” John’s looking at her with worry in his eyes. It sort of annoys Rose, to have everyone acting like she’s so delicate, except that she is rather delicate, these days. And she is tired. The late night is well worth it, but she’s going to be making up for it for the next few days at least.

Jackie and Pete come with Rose and John to the car, sending them off with cheers and well-wishes, and John drives them home. There’s a warm silence to the world right now, Rose notes, staring out the window. Everything is dark, but every so often, she can see an orange light in someone’s window, a sign that the world is still alive, even when it sleeps.

She manages to keep her eyes open the whole way back to their flat, but when she gets there, she’s just about ready to keel over, metaphorically speaking. She lets John help her out of her dress, and then she sinks into the mattress, closing her eyes. She’s vaguely aware of John joining her, his body surrounding her, as she falls asleep.

#my fic #chaptered #doctor who #fanfiction #and still i will live here #ten x rose #tenth doctor #rose tyler #angst #and we're not out of the tunnel

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horistognositis · 2 years ago

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Говорим по-галлифрейски.

Ru: "Я буду всего лишь историей у тебя в голове. Но это ничего. Мы все, в конечном итоге, истории. Только пусть это будет хорошая история. Потому что это и была хорошая история. Самая лучшая. Сума��бродный старик, который стащил волшебную будку и улетел. Я сказал, что украл её? Нет, я её одолжил. Собирался вернуть обратно."

En: “I'll be a story in your head. That's okay. We're all stories in the end. Just make it a good one, eh? 'Cause it was, you know. It was the best. The daft old man who stole a magic box and ran away. Did I ever tell you that I stole it? Well I borrowed it. I was always going to take it back.”

Gllfr: "Ooza melind basteres kala. Isam melesh. Oolafrey melindey bastoclaam. Klozek eri ila anyazec. Jen ina meon, ala mendol. Ina meon ehabrill anya. Magul ipsayan malisketham exis ongakvalon garezux syko el umiphon. Inga oota dyayoton ata isam oona ongakvalon ira? Shye, oona tugekvalon ira. Oona igrekonor zleneph ira."

#teegarden gallifreyan #gallifreyan language #gallifreyan conlang #doctor who #doccywhomst low modern gallifreyan #amy pond #eleventh doctor #11th doctor #matt smith

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giovanni-bottesini · 2 years ago

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My take on these headcanons:

"Old High Gallifreyan" is the ancient language of Tapraliph (the equatorial region of Wild Endeavour and the Doctor's homeland) known as essilankee (named after essilan, the Tapraliphan god of communication and trade) It hasn't been spoken by common folk in hundreds of millenia, but the founding Time Lords, many of whom being Tapraliphan, wrote the founding documents in essilankee, permanently establishing it as the "high ancient language of the Time Lords", with its true history as a common tongue being largely obscured

"Modern High Gallifreyan" is a natural evolution of essilankee after being spoken almost exclusively by Time Lords after the ancient language died out, making it somewhat like Latin within academic and the Catholic church. All Time Lords can speak it, and it is considered higher-class than common Gallifreyan, though it isn't any more difficult for commoners to learn.

"Common Gallifreyan" is a descendant of the ancient language kalfreyn, from Wugharig, the northern region of Wild Endeavour. Wugharig is home to the Capitol, hence kalfreyn becoming the dominant language rather than the native tongue of the Time Lords. It also is largely comprised of loaned words from other Gallifreyan languages modified to comply with kalfreyn grammar rules.

"Shobogan" is a complicated term in all contexts, referring to a historical belief of the Tapraliphans that there was once an ancestral culture that built the foundations for Tapraliphan society before disappearing, which really refers to a small group of ancient Gallifreyans who sailed across the ocean to the isolated island of Shabooj'elaq. (hence "Shabooj'm", which is their true name) "Shobogan", colloquially, then is synonymous with "archaic", and therefore often refers to kalfreyn or essilankee depending on the context.

random unformulated thoughts on gallifreyan and which time lords speak what:

most translation matrices do translate gallifreyan! the doctor's tardis chooses not to (mostly post-time war) out of a) spite and b) respect for the doctor's grief

the doctor speaks basically every language all the time so if you removed the tardis it would just sound like. gibberish

most time lords speak in high gallifreyan; ancient time lords speak/write old high gallifreyan; anyone lower than the rank of time lord speaks low gallifreyan; all of the above are derived from shobogan

romana speaks english during most of her presidency. why? fuck you, that's why

leela speaks gallifreyan, which is why she trips up so often in the audios on complicated words

#doctor who #sixth doctor #classic doctor who #classic who #conlang #gallifreyan #gallifreyan language #headcanon #teegarden gallifreyan #teegarden's gallifrey

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marzattlindexsvateegardon · 3 years ago

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I have taken an interest in human poetry, and decided to translate this beautiful piece into my own language.

tilicangunix zaykoogissen;

timontskaraskol. taysadnacon.

mehistvezsaywhucodlikhast.

mesheralayfisamrexaphkrask.

melorenahandewtaynerashoak.

meskahespilungkrootosura.

zasiphula, telisstayuyezvyt

mefaylamykraybeth kethrifpryd

tasikefrey kaycajioke nahulkid

menatheborykedayvyutessech.

zaykoogissen, wayryaracherth.

tiskadalishaf. tichyubvach.

do not kneel crying at my grave;

i am not sleeping there. i wandered away.

i am the thousand winds over the blood-orange sands.

i am the broken wings that make water fall.

i am the fabric that guards you from a sandstorm.

i am the yeast that rises your bread.

in the morning, when the light quietly arrives

i am the gentle inspiration that your mind speaks

from all the birds in sky-wheels flying south into the future

i am the cradle of the constellations.

at my grave, restrain your suffering.

i am not there. my story has not been cast off.

#teegarden's gallifrey #gallifrey #headcanon #worldbuilding #classic doctor who #doctor who #conlang #poetry #translation #gallifreyan #nuwho

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nounpolycule · 2 years ago

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Tagged by @spacewives-in-spacetime!!!! Thank you I love saying things thank you for the opportunity to do so <3

Three ships: River Song/Rose Tyler (and all other nounpolycule combos but I, Tumblr user riverrose, do not shut up about riverrose. Shocking, I know.), Rumbelle (listen. I would be a different person if Emilie de Ravin had not become a regular on OUAT), and let's go Percabeth since they were my intro to fandom being a thing that exists.

Last song: Began writing this to Love Like Woe by The Ready Set, ended it listening to Drag is Magic by Nina West. Currently listening to my "every upbeat song that was in my music library the day I created this playlist" playlist as I work on latework.

Last movie: Antman! Genuinely a solid 90%+ of the movies I watch are Thursday movie nights with Eliza lmao

Currently reading: Define "reading"? Books I would claim to be reading at the moment include Trail of Lightning by Rebecca Roanhorse, Yiddishkeit: Jewish Vernacular & the New Land, The Talmud: A Biography by Harry Freedman, Le Petit Prince in the original French, and a collection of essays on spider evolution. In practice? I am skimming my reading for my history class and my evolution class just thoroughly enough to get by.

Currently watching: Once Upon A Time (my first time rewatching his early episodes since deciding I don't actually hate Hook so so so so so so so so so much and he is in fact a meow meow), Dexter, and the Doctor Who episode Mummy On The Orient Express - I mean I am watching Doctor Who and have not watched the same episode 4 times in the last like 3 weeks. Don't look at me. Also I am theoretically watching Lost but we'll see when I have the brain power to continue it.

Currently consuming: Trail mix! Specifically I'm picking out the wasabi peas which will inevitably lead to me being whiny about not having any wasabi peas in my trail mix later.

Currently craving: A six cheese bagel with garden veggie shmear like I'm craving every waking moment. Obviously. Also craving rewatching the 1996 Moll Flanders mini series staring Alex Kingston.

Uuuuuuh I believe this is supposed to be tag 9 people?: @zaricats, @ashdoesfandom, @regenderate, @godlovesdykes, @berylgrace, @tenteen, @quantumshade, @lesbiandonnanoble, and @lesbiantwelve

#to those who may not recognize this url my main is fab-wolf-in-the-gloom lmao #and if that doesn't ring a bell either I'm Eleventoo Enjoyer in the Doctor Achoo server despite not being super active lol #help My Alien by Simple Plan came on while I was tagging people #the way I didn't need to use this many fucking words <3 not shutting up in my passion <3 #kasteraxilkemeryapheshexerindaikyat.pdf #<- help I got so confused trying to find that tag because I forgot I spent hours on a thoughtful Teegarden Gallifreyan name #instead of just sticking with ''completely fucking insufferable''#briefly considered saying Ganger!Eleven/River/Rose because it's one of the ship tags that I was the first (only still) person in #and also because Eleventoo is my baby boy. Guy who deserves more love.

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giovanni-bottesini · 2 years ago

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Teegarden's Gallifrey Headcanons: What the heck is Perigosto?

If you're familiar with classic Doctor Who and the extended universe, chances are you've heard of the nebulous item that is a "Perigosto Stick". It's a musical instrument, a piece of sports equipment, and the subject of many a Gallifreyan proverb and joke. So what exactly is it? To learn about that, we need to travel to Tapraliph, the southwestern territory of Gallifrey's arid continent of Rasholenywo, or Wild Endeavour.

Made from the long, flexible rib bones of a Broakir, (a large domestic animal similar to an elephant or large draft horse) a Perigosto stick, or perigozyhig, is a hoopstick used in the Tapraliphan sport of perigosto, meaning "to deliver" in the region's ancient language. The stick is typically the same length as the height of the athlete, and to counterbalance its incredible length, a heavy ball of bone or metal is affixed at the grip end. Small holes are drilled along its length: one to attach a thin cord of inflexible fiber, and up to a dozen others to change the location of the nock, a small piece of carved bone through which the string is threaded. More recently, perigosto sticks have increasingly been made with plastic or carbon fiber.

In a game of perigosto, an athlete would wield the stick in their dominant hand, while holding the cord in the other. Players take turns passing, intercepting, and launching a wooden hoop between two teams on a field or indoor court with the end goal of landing it on the opponent's goal pole. The hoop is thrown in the air by a referee to start the game, typically caught by a frontlining player, and they are passed between teammates by yanking taut the cord to launch the hoop off the stick's end. Intercepting from a rival player cannot be done by force, (yanking off the hoop with the curve of your stick) players must slide their own stick into the hoop and launch it up and away from the other player. Its core rules are reminiscent of basketball (the hoop must be continuously bounced on the player's stick while moving and if they stop doing so, they can no longer move; points are assigned based on the distance of the successful shot) but the extreme precision and physical strength required to play perigosto is very typical of gallifreyan sports.

Some time after the invention of the sport, enterprising Tapraliphans realized that pulling on the stick's string produced a twanging sound, and that the pitch could be altered by changing its tightness. The perigozyhig quickly became a household musical instrument, joining traditional drums, flutes, and shawms in clan gatherings and ceremonies. While planting the left foot between the nock and tip, the musician rests the counterweight on their shoulder and manipulates the string with their left hand, and plucks it with their right. Later the concept of bowing was invented, with hunting bows used at first similarly to earthly string instruments. The end result is an instrument reminiscent of a single-string bass, but the movable nock gives the instrument extreme versatility; some master players have perfected virtuosic playing in every possible register. While in modern times perigosto sticks are often manufactured specifically for one purpose or the other, any instrument could theoretically be used for a quick game in the park, or a sports stick used to accompany the keedet (a type of Tapraliphan guitar) around the bonfire in the evening.

The Time Lords would later use the term to colloquially describe a type of common fourth-dimensional compass, whose shape resembled a miniature perigozyhig. In most instances, this is the "Perigosto stick" to which the Doctor refers, except...

The Doctor was in his early nineties before he could bring himself to admit that he still liked to play with his perigosto stick.

While the euphemistic potential is obvious here, the Time Lords viewed Perigosto as a children's game, despite its popularity among common Gallifreyans of all ages, due to the belief that grown Time Lords were suited only to the high intellectual pursuits of the sciences and not inferior activities such as sports and music.

He played lead perigosto stick in Gallifrey Academy Hot Five, while the Master was on drums.

Who knows if they had a real knack for shredding away on it, or if they had the brazen overconfidence of a tipsy college freshman with an acoustic guitar.

The Third Doctor once told a humorous story in which the punchline was, "Never trust a Venusian shanghorn with your perigosto stick."

Venusian Shanghorns, while generally peaceful, fight for a mate using their massive horns. Considering the perigozyhig's appearance, maybe its best not to show it off around these simple-minded creatures, lest you enjoy fighting bus-sized rhinoceri to the death.

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