#I speak a few languages so language barrier doesn't exist to me-

[pink-key]

Kann man einen Ticchi Tobi umarmen?

(Ich verstehe Englisch nicht gut, tut mir leid)

DE: Yoo! Mein Deutsch ist nicht fantastisch, aber es ist okay. Die kurze Antwort ist: Ja, aber es gibt unvorhersehbare Folgen. Wenn ich mich recht erinnere, glaube ich, Toby hat deutsche Eltern oder etwas, also passt es, dass er Deutsch spricht, haha Auch ein Bonus

ENG: Another headcanon of mine is that I like to think Toby either speaks or understands some German.

[lavernius]

Locus and Lopez vs. dehumanization and seeing your own humanity through someone else

AKA 1.5k words worth of me trying to justify a random pairing I've been trying to sell people on for 5 years. Feat. a lot of my own introspection on both characters, CW for mentions of abuse.

It's kind of easy to assume that Locpez as a ship only exists because Locus is one of the few people who understands Lopez and one of even fewer who has had an actual (off-screen) conversation with him with full mutual fluency, especially since they interact directly, like, twice in canon (Objects In Space and the "Holy shit he's bilingual" scene from The Federal Army of Chorus). To be honest, that was my initial reason for shoving them together whenever I got into RVB and there was literally no content for them because no one was really considering them together in any capacity but a brief, funny passing interaction.

I do think language is an inherent motivator in their relationship with each other. It's a catalyst. Spanish, of course, is perhaps the most obvious thing they share--Locus being a Latino man and Lopez being the same in a convoluted and meta-racist metaphor. Beggars, choosers: anyone who knows how I operate knows I lean into reclaiming their depictions for my own brown person machinations. For Lopez it's the beauty of meeting someone who not only understands him, but isn't going to belittle him for the language he speaks or imply it'd be easier if he learned English. Locus will just listen to him talk and respond without commenting on the language barrier; Lopez isn't exotic or abnormal or "broken" for it, he just speaks Spanish, big deal, Locus speaks it too.

For Locus, it leans more toward reminding him of who he used to be when he was a simpler and kinder person. His culture seems like a forgone part of himself in many ways, but even if only because he's so distant from his humanity that he doesn't remember HOW to embrace his culture, or what the point of cultural pride even is. Lopez is like, reverse culture shock for him, where Locus is very familiar with Spanish as a language--grew up with it, learned it young, whatever, he canonically understands it and given he's Latino it's easy to assume it could be his native language--but has divorced himself from it so much to be malleable to his abusers that hearing someone speak it so unabashedly feels new. It's the lack of it that makes it so foreign, but it's so ingrained into him that it's easy for him to just slip back into it.

And Lopez being so stubbornly proud of what he is plays into that language dynamic, yes--now that there's someone who will listen and not judge, he has room to be adamant and own his monolingualism, and having someone as aggressively, straightforwardly prideful as Lopez forces Locus to recognize the beauty in the language too--but it applies on a grander scale, which is what I suppose the point of this post is: Locus and Lopez don't just share Spanish, but also histories of abuse and dehumanization, of being overlooked as living, thinking things in favor of taking advantage of their skills. And the results of this abuse manifest differently in both of them, but they're alike in just enough ways that their differences stimulate each other into bettering themselves and reflecting on what makes them, dramatic pause, human.

Some of Lopez and Locus's defining personality traits to me are their shared low empathy (forcibly learned on both of their parts) and the way they feel so alien in any group they're a part of. They're people with a lot of potential who don't care how others see them (at their worst, especially in Locus's case), but are limited by someone who only sees them for their usefulness (Sarge, Felix) and doesn't truly see them as a person. Lopez may be a Red, but they don't really care about anything he says, so he's just a wrench to them. Locus has Felix, but he doesn't recognize that Felix has one-sided power over him and is keeping him on a short leash; he's a shield and a weapon. They're tools, they don't have feelings, and if they realize as much it's a fault in their programming, they can and have to be steered back into place.

They're reflective of each other in this way. However, they're not identical in disposition: Locus resigns very easily to what he's told to be. He had more hope once, made attempts to be humanitarian, but was swiftly taught that kindness is suicide and that the point is to survive, no matter the cost. It was easy for Felix to take advantage of him by saying they needed each other when Locus was at his worst, because having kindness ripped out of him gave Locus little else to rely on but his hands. Locus has no room for questions, because a rulebook is absolute. It takes a reminder of what he used to be to make him falter, but even when Santa is showing him one of the inciting incidents of his "soldier" mindset, Locus can't stop himself from resigning to the mindlessness that Felix and the UNSC have already taught him.

Lopez feels trapped and is hyper-aware of it. He'll listen, but only because there's nothing else in the world for him. He's subservient but not in the same way Locus is, because he's angry about his situation: he knows it's not fair, but what can he fucking do about it? He was made to be Red Team's mechanic, and every word he says falls on deaf ears. He carries this self-awareness like a shield, like a threat: he could do something, but there's no point because his nature as a robot defines him. All he has is a sharp tongue and his hands, and the Reds only need one of those things from him. He revels in being able to complain and reminds himself that he's meant for something greater, but he's so fatalistic that he won't take action.

The balance comes from this anger. They're so alike in how they see the world and how much life has mistreated them, but they don't fully understand each other despite it. Locus sees Lopez as privileged for having a team because Locus has never had people to belong with, but he doesn't understand that Red Team isn't a safe place for Lopez. Lopez thinks Locus is misguided for letting himself believe he could ever be reduced to a mindless weapon, because Lopez has only ever been an object and Locus can't comprehend what that's really like. They see each other for their imperfections first and foremost and it frustrates them mutually: "You could've fixed this sooner, you could've escaped the grief, why didn't you try?"

It's this back-and-forth that they both need in order to reflect on themselves. They're harsh people who don't want to be coddled and admonished, but they're not making forward motion on their own because they're both stubborn and tend to decathect before they even recognize they CAN feel. They refuse to see themselves as human, but they can only see the humanity in each other, and they're both so alike that it could make them hypocrites. For a robot, Lopez's anger is so potent that it's alive: Locus sees more feeling in him than he's ever felt in his own life. Locus wants to be a weapon so bad, but he doesn't realize an object doesn't have heart the way he does, doesn't mourn the years it spent under someone's thumb, doesn't want to fix itself.

They're both brutally honest and they both need brutal honesty. They get along WELL by nature of being as similar as they are, but they argue so much because they want to understand each other and don't realize they already do. They're mapping details of their reflections. It's great: Locus is so hurt that he can only see the damage he causes, Lopez is difficult to hurt and notoriously good at fixing things. Lopez wants true accountability and retribution and Locus has cultivated complicity and guilt to perfection.

After Felix, Locus needs room to command his own life and put others in place when they overstep his boundaries, but he's scared of becoming Felix, so he also needs an anchor to keep him grounded in reality and reasonable. Lopez has never had real control over his own life before and would kill to have the power to make small choices and do as he wants, but he's a very private person who also needs a lot of space to work. They balance each other out and know the other's limits so well that they can easily go "You're hurting yourself and I'm not going to let you get away with it."

It's about understanding yourself through someone else and vice versa. Realizing that you share so much that if they deserve good, you do too. Reclaiming pain, experiencing freedom, finding support. They will deconstruct each other to the metal and muscles and rebuild one another over and over again, and they'll never get it perfectly right, but they're both going to learn more and more as they go. Flawless navigation of a road you've driven a million times, forward and back, potholes and all.

[faellain]

The Accidental Baby Trap Incident

Summary: About four years after the events of First Class, Erik arrives at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters with two little twins who he didn't know existed. Thinking he doesn't know what to do, he runs to Charles, not knowing the state his old friend is in.

Snippet 4

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both of them avoid each other over the next few weeks. charles speaks with the children, learns their powers. erik trains them, tests them, seeings their strengths and weaknesses. hank acts as the middle man of it all. each day life falls a little bit into place, but it's not a life to live forever. not for children. both of them know that.

during the day charles is attentive, but once the sun goes down, he drinks. part of him wonders if he can feel his liver rot. he lays back against the headboard of his bed and sighs.

"drinking?"

charles jumps, thinking its erik at first but that wasn't erik's voice. he turns and sees two yellow eyes blink at him from the corner of his room. from the shadow, raven emerges, blue with her hair bright red. her body seems to soak up all the shadows of the room. in contrast, she wears a pair of white pants and a white crop top all in leather. she sighs and takes a seat in a chair, crossing her legs at the knees.

"raven?"

she smiles, "been a long time."

"…is this about erik?"

she leans forward, "what about erik? i'm here for you. i need to find someone."

riptide, charles assumes. he doesn't know that he's wrong. how can he? he pushes himself up, legs shaky. raven balks suddenly.

"how can you walk?"

"hank," charles answers glibly, words slurring slightly, "but i'm not- raven, hh-" charles staggers gently, a mix of booze and pin-prick pain in his spine.

"how much have you been drinking?" she asks, her eyes narrowing.

charles pouts, "i fail to see what that matters."

"as much as our mother?"

"raven, tell me why you're here."

when erik wakes up, it's to the sound of shattering glass bottles.

without hesitation, erik runs up to charles room, pulling anything he can use as a weapon to follow him as he does. once at charles' room, he breaks the door down with his foot. unfortunately for him, there is no real danger and he's not about to heroically rescue charles from some nefarious interloper.

raven's hawkish yellow eyes widen as she sees him, a bottle of very expensive looking vodka in her hand. at her feet lay shattered glasses and the copious bottles of liquor that charles has been keeping in his room. one day, while charles was attending to the twins, erik snuck up there to see just how bad it was. part of him had wanted to get rid of the bottles. instead, he'd washed charles' foul smelling sheets.

that very man is leaning against a dresser, hands outstretched as if to calm raven, which he very much will not be able to do to. even when he had his powers, he never even so much as read her mind. erik remembers how charles once mentioned that he had to make extra effort not to do so. all minds were simply open to him in a way that he had to learn to live with. there was no off unless he himself put the barrier there.

"erik," mystique hisses, "this is your secret mission? babysitting charles while he drinks himself to death?"

"no, you misunderstand," erik tries to reason with her, "there are things i haven't been able to tell you."

"like what?"

from the hall, erik can only sigh as he hears calls of, "papa! papa! we heard a crash!"

wind whips around him as pietro appears with a metal fucking baseball bat in his hands, "is someone here for the prof? i'll kick their ass!"

"pietro," erik says, lifting his hand, quickly removing the bat from his son's hands before he hurts himself, "language."

"dad," pietro replies in a tone directly mocking erik's own, "peter."

raven's jaw drops a little as she stares down at the young boy still ready to punch whoever was going after the teacher he'd come to care for. as she seems to be processing this, wanda wedges her way in, holding up her hands in an imitation of erik, but with red light sparking from her hands. he sighs gently, putting the bat under his arm. as he kneels, he gently lowers her hands.

"pietro, wanda," he says, as calmly as he can, "this is mystique-"

"also known as your aunt raven," charles quickly corrects with a smug smirk which earns him glares from both raven and erik, "she's my sister and a friend of your father's."

erik doesn't want to process charles declaring her an aunt. he knows sometimes people do that with friends, but- well, seeing her always put charles in a good mood. he adored his little sister more than anything. both of them leaving that day in cuba… erik had barely registered what that might have done to him to lose both of them in one day.

"oh," pietro says, blinking owlishly at her, "why are you blue?"

"pietro!" erik scolds.

"peter!" pietro reminds him, still directly mimicking erik's voice. why was it that his son insisted on being difficult so often between bouts of sweetness?

raven stills and looks at erik, "your kids?"

"with magda," he explains, "she passed and they came to me. she never told me."

her eyes narrow again, "and you went to charles? not the brotherhood?"

"the brotherhood?" charles balks in an effort to hold back aghast laughter, "is that what you call your group of misfits?"

"it's better than the vainglorious x-men," sneers erik.

"x-men wasn't my idea," charles reminds him.

"okay but why is she blue? is she like us?" pietro snaps, impatiently, frustrated at being ignored.

there's another crashing sound. the final member of the house stumbles into charles' room, wiping sleep from his eyes with big blue paws. much to erik's horror, wanda yelps.

"it's a werewolf!"

hank blinks down at wanda, "wha- oh. it's me, wanda. it's hank."

"are we all gonna turn blue?" asks pietro, suddenly alarmed.

erik grabs pietro and puts a hand over his mouth. his son bites him for the effort, but erik has endured worse pain than children's teeth. he doesn't do so much as flinch. a long sigh escapes him as he shakes his head. this is going to be a lot of explaining.

"mystique is blue because of her mutation," erik explains calmly, "like your hair."

"oh," pietro says without removing his teeth. erik's skin puckers with the effort.

wanda approaches hank quietly, motioning him to kneel down. he does so. carefully, he touches his face. little hands and fingers run along blue fur, her face twisted up and pensive. suddenly, she breaks into a warm smile. her feet bounce, giddy.

"it is you!" she exclaims, hugging him. wanda is a bit fond of hank- she appreciates how quiet he is and that he gave her cookies their first day.

hank is clearly taken aback, but hugs wanda after a moment, picking her up. such a gestures seems to even momentarily melt raven's iced-over heart. it's very early (or very late) so neither child should be up which means erik clearly needs to put them back to bed so the adults can talk. convincing pietro to stay in bed is another matter entirely.

"let me tuck these two back in," erik says, before clearing his throat, "unless you want to hear the dreadfully boring coversation about…" erik trails off and sees charles mouth taxes, "taxes we are all about to have."

"taxes?"

"yes. about the house," erik replies, forcibly removing pietro's mouth from his palm. he smiles as he takes wanda from hank and looks at them, "i'll meet you all soon."

as erik leaves the room, he hears charles huff, "did you have to smash all the bottles?"

"you're acting like a fucking alcholic."

"raven!"

erik does his best to ignore the rest of the conversaation. clearly, raven is furious. there is no small amount of joy in that she immediately took action. coming to charles in need of help, erik felt like he could do nothing. not to mention how little charles had felt like himself lately. living at the mansion was still like living with the specter of his friend.

once the kids are tucked tightly in bed, erik heads downstairs, passing by charles' room on the way. the glass has been dumped in a waste basket.

he makes his way down to the sitting room where raven is sitting in one of the plush velvet chairs, her hair fading into the red like flames. hank is thumbling a glass of water with his burly paws. charles has managed to get a drink, but raven looks seconds from slapping it out of his hand. instead, erik snatches it from him and downs it himself. he knows he's going to need it.

heat licks down his throat from the whiskey. from the corner of his eye, he can see raven's smirk. good. that may soften the blow of all this a little. not by a lot, but at least she'll know he's not just letting charles drink himself into liver failure.

"really, erik?"

"i needed it," he says as he sits, setting down the glass. he looks to raven, "i'm sorry i didn't tell you sooner. i wanted to."

raven nods, "charles and hank caught me up about wanda. i'm pissed, but… i can't say i don't understand."

neither of them would ever be as close as the other was with charles, but they had an understanding. mystique was an excellent right-hand, wasted playing sychophant to charles' professorial endeavours. did charles know she still had a grand success rate without ever actually taking a life? that was something he was sure his soft-hearted friend would be pleased with.

"what brings you here then?" he asks, leaning forward.

"sean's going to be taken in a few days,; i don't know how many," she explains, "we think he got separated from alex and my guess is it's the same people who have riptide."

charles sits up at that, "sean's in danger?"

"he is. but i don't know where in vietnam he is. i had been hoping you could help with that," she snaps, leaning back, "but…" her eyes flash towards his nervously bouncing leg.

charles licks his lips, "it will take awhile to flush out the drugs from my system. and i can't promise i'll be able to do it, but- but for sean, i'll do what i can."

raven smiles, "thank you."

erik, however, feels his suspicion rising. emma and azazel know to report to him anything about his and charles' old pupils. angel would have went to both him and raven right away. where did this information come from?

"and who told you this?" his eyebrow raises slightly.

raven huffs at him, "destiny saw it."

of course.

"so we have nothing verifiable to say that it will happen," erik crosses his arms, "you'll lead us on a wild goose chase."

"who is destiny?" asks hank, clearly confused.

"she's a mutant-"

"she's a madwoman," erik sighs, "who says she's a mutant. but she also thinks she's irene adler."

"like from sherlock holmes?" asks charles, looking to erik and then to raven.

"her prophecies have come true before. they just don't always go the way we think," she argues, "we get glimpses and have to go off of that. but i trust her."

"if raven trusts her, so do i," charles replies and erik rolls his eyes. just a few minutes ago, raven was shattering all of his booze. now, it's as if they've never stopped speaking. siblings. erik could never understand. he and ruth had never been like that.

or maybe they had simply never gotten the chance.

raven smirks proudly, "then it's decided. try to make that flush quick. i don't know how much time we have."

hank nods, "we should probably get alex out too. he'll be next."

"agreed," erik says, standing up. his eyes wander, staring at charles who won't look at him. the other is staring nervously off into space. once, he would have reached out to touch him. now, he doesn't.

[wolfofcelestia]

So I went through all the dub voices for both Sylus and Zayne

And here's how I'd rank them and my thoughts on each one

(Long and rambling post lmao)

Sylus:

Trad. CN > English > Japanese > Korean > Sim. CN

Ok listen, I don't really know the difference between the two CNs but I can understand Trad. CN a tiny bit more and holy shit what a difference between the two. Trad. CN sounds much more confident and stronger. He has the smugness that Eng and JP has. And while I usually go for the JP dub, Sylus's seiyuu just happens to be one I don't really like lol

If I actually understood Chinese (LMAO), Trad. CN Sylus could have probably won me over more but me disappointing my ancestors made sure I went with the doctor instead of the criminal adslkjgjchf

(Also he actually made a sound when he bit her hand so that's a plus lmao)

Korean Sylus sounds... soft but kind of mysterious I guess? He has an aura that a high ranking leader should have, minus the smugness and... the brashness that JP and ENG have? His voice is clean and polished but lacks an edge. It does sound nice, objectively, but considering the language barrier, it's a little hard for me to get into his voice

Japanese Sylus just sounds like Bubs GBF, I'm sorry. I can't be seduced by Bubs pls. But he has the smugness, arrogance, and confidence that you'd expect from Sylus, so objectively, it's a good fit for him. Just not for me lmao. If I didn't have a personal distaste for his voice, I'd probably put him at #2

Sim. CN Sylus just confuses me tbh. He doesn't sound like what I'd expect Sylus to sound like. He just sounds like some random guy. There's no forcefulness, no smugness, or arrogance. He's just. There.

English Sylus is (MIRACULOUSLY) my main Sylus... which I defaulted to because I can't be seduced by Bubs (lol) and because it's the only other language I can understand. I do have big criticisms about his voice, but he is starting to hit a few targets in me.

Yes, petnames and all. I feel like he's the type of guy to keep using them, ESPECIALLY if you get annoyed by them. But him using petnames for the person he likes also feels like an in-character power move. He won't call you by your name. Instead, he'd call you a name he chose for you

English Sylus does have the confidence, smugness, and arrogance that you'd expect from him, but he just... needs to speak faster and fix the weird inflections that make it sound like he's reading from a script

Zayne:

Japanese > Korean = Trad. CN > Sim. CN

(I already dunked on Eng Zayne enough today so I'm just not gonna include him here lmao. He just doesn't exist to me)

Ok so... Trad. CN Li Shen made me tear up fROM BEING SO FUCKING SOFT AND WHISPERY AAHHHHHH 😭😭😭😭. He's blindsided me about three times in such a short test period. He sounds so fucking comfy, I could curl up in his voice. He gets more flustered when you touch his dick too lmao

Yeah I'm sorry Lee Seoeon, I thought you were my only #2 but you're just gonna have to share that spot with this guy

If I actually understood Chinese more, I'd have like... two... husbands... Li Shen and Rei. So like. Li Shen x 4 and Rei x 4. I'd have... 8 husbands... who are all the same person 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

OG Li Shen sounds fine. I don't really have any strong feelings about him. He sounds like how he should sound and I really hear how SatoTaku incorporated his nuances into his portrayal of Rei. This Li Shen feels familiar mainly because of that. He's just the Chinese version of Rei

I could freely accept this version of him and consider him just Rei speaking Chinese... that's how familiar he is to me, but also... he feels a little more distant because of that language barrier

Lee Seoeon feels like he's constantly trying to seduce me uwu. The moment I switched to Korean and heard his voice, I just stopped breathing for a few seconds 😭😭 Sir, I have no idea what you're saying but if you'd like to take me home, I would not refuse adfasldkfj we could just stay in the office tho

Rei is undoubtedly my favourite for personal, sentimental reasons and because of his voice performance, of course. His voice is comforting, a breath of fresh air, and is the perfect amount of warmth and confidence. And when the situation calls for it, SatoTaku can put out absolute banger acting skills too

Li Shen(s) and Lee Seoeon are fine and all but Rei is my Rei 🥰

[yandereocs]

Ooh, I have cool idea! Eljiah with a darling who's in a band and on tour when he first sees them. What happens? Surely their band will notice them missing if he ends up taking them, right?

* OOOO YEAH THAT IS TRUE

Yandere Elijah with a darling in a band

* CW: Elijah's existence in general

Being in a band leads to some uncomfortableness experiences.

Disrespectful fans, stalkers, parasocial weirdos...you've experienced it all.

This, however, was by far the scariest thing you've experienced.

You aren't even sure how your life descended into chaos so quickly. One day you were packing up in your hotel, getting ready to leave for your next stop of your tour. And then the next thing you know, you're hit on the head with a lamp, stuffed in a bag and are woken up in a completely different house with a completely different species.

It's been a few days since then. Your head still ached and there were still bandages wrapped around it to stop the bleeding while you dozed in and out of consciousness. All the while, a man you've never seen before watches you, making sure you don't leave the bed that he's chained you to.

Obviously when you first woke up you started with the typical questions. "Who are you? Where am I? Let me go!". That sort of thing. But almost immediately you figured out that there was a language barrier.

It made sense. The man wasn't even a human. He was a hybrid. You didn't even know those things still existed. But apparently they do. And apparently, they have their own language. Not only that, but this man doesn't seem to know any English. Or, if he did, it seemed to be a limited amount.

And that leads you to now. The man was pacing the room, and you were watching him in a daze. What kind of lunatic hits someone on the head with a lamp to knock them out? He could have killed you! And based on how he treats you, it doesn't seem like he wants you dead. He feeds you, bathes you and has given you more comfortable clothing to wear. Not only that but he keeps kissing parts of your body and holding you close.

He's the most intense stalker you've ever had.

"My friends will find me."

You said, even though you knew he most likely didn't understand a single word you said. Immediately, the man's eyes flicked over to you at the sound of your voice. His gaze always freaked you out. Having a creep stare at you is already pretty unsettling, but it's even worse when that creep's eyes look more cat-like than human. It wasn't natural.

The man huffed and went back to pacing. For the past day or so, he's been stressed. You could tell by the way his tail flicked back and forth, the fur on end, and his eyes constantly darting to look out the nearby window. You could only assume that your friends and the police were already looking for you, and he knew it.

"We're in some sort of forest, right? Obviously they're gonna search this place the most. It's only a matter of time until they find me."

You tried to speak with confidence, but you weren't too sure just how true it was. Just by glancing out the window you could see large, tall trees surrounding the area. You didn't know how deep this hybrid colony was. If it was super deep in the forest...well, there's a high chance that you won't actually be found.

Once again, the man looks at you. He's getting annoyed. He snarls something to you in his strange language before going to check the windows, his ear straining to hear anything. Based on the way he relaxed, you could only guess that there were no alarming sounds. Great for him, not so much for you.

"Not coming."

The man says, turning to look at you. When he speaks English, it doesn't sound quite...right. It's almost like an accent, you suppose. His tone sounds so rumbly, like he's growling, despite the fact that he doesn't have that deep of a voice. It's odd. He's odd.

"Please let me go home."

Being confident clearly wasn't working. Time to go back to some good ole pleading. Not that that's been working either, though.

"What do...what do you even want? Some sort of autograph...? Private concert? Whatever it is, I'll give it to you."

You squirm in your restraints. Man, it was uncomfortable. The man continues to stare at you before suddenly approaching, causing you to shuffle backwards. You were sick of him touching you.

"You."

The man speaks as he crawls onto the bed, slinking towards you. Eventually your back hits the wall, and you can't move any further, causing your stomach to sink. The man stops in front of you, trapping your body between his arms.

"Want...you."

He leans forward and begins nipping at your neck. You whimper and try to squirm away, but he quickly holds you down by your wrists. The fur on his ears tickles your chin as he kisses along your throat and you can see his tail thrashing behind him. It felt disgusting to be touched like this by someone like him.

"Please let me go."

You whisper pleadingly, your voice breaking slightly. You weren't sure how much more you could take. The man didn't listen, of course, since his lips simply travelled down to your shoulder as he pushed down your shirt slightly.

"Mmh...no. Want you. You are...star."

He lifts his head to meet your gaze, his eyes wide and intense. His pupils are narrowed to slits and his tail slowly wraps around your leg. You felt your throat tighten as you tried to hold back a sob. All you ever wanted to do was okay music with your friends, and share that joy with those who listen. You didn't ask for any of this.

The man whistles a tune. Your heart drops. It's one of your songs. So this freak really was at one of your concerts. He was standing in the crowd, watching and listening, and just waiting for the perfect time to take you away.

And he succeeded.

[mymarsmoonandstars]

ONE THING I ABSOLUTELY LOVED about wakanda forever is how shuri never admitted to seeing killmonger in the ancestral plane. nakia asked her twice, and she disclosed not a thing. so i've been mulling over two questions: will shuri ever admit to seeing killmonger? and if so, who will she tell?

i was thinking of writing up a meta, but i saw the scene too clearly in my head. so i wrote a story, a short one, about 1.4k words. tw death mention. i call it, cat's got your tongue. i'm kidding. it's untitled.

i haven't written fanfic in years, until wakanda forever, apparently. the power of black women front-and-center on screen, eh?

anyway, i think yes, shuri will eventually admit to seeing killmonger. but to whom? well. . .

.

.

.

Even the loud cascading water of Warrior Falls could not mask the sound of footsteps on rocks. A perk of being the Panther. So when a certain former member of the Dora Milaje appeared behind her, Shuri did not have to turn and look back over her shoulder to verify. She remained sitting on the edge of a rocky outcrop, legs dangling over a crystalline pool of shallow water. "If you're here to vent about your new suit, Okoye, your very long list of edits is still underway," said Shuri, keeping her eyes straight ahead. The golden horizon made the reservoir shimmer.

"It is not my suit I am concerned about. At least, not today." Okoye went to Shuri's side, and this close, Shuri not only breathed in her faint, reassuring scent of steel and lotus flower, but she could hear her heartbeat. Another Panther Perk that felt less like an advantage and more of an annoyance. She heard not only the heartbeats of humans, but the ancient thrumming of elephants, the flitting ones of birds. Sometimes, she wondered what her heartbeat had sounded like to her late brother, T'Challa. She knew it couldn't be like Okoye's, whose heart's drum beat as resonant and steady as the tama, speaking to her in a powerful but welcoming rhythmic language only she could understand. For the first time in days, Shuri felt the tensed Panther Spirit inside her head ease.

"Then what is it, Okoye?"

"You. If you wanted to challenge for the throne, I'm afraid you are a few weeks late. Though still fully within your rights."

Shuri looked down, twisted the Kimoyo beads on her wrist. She had programmed them off so that no one, not even Griot could reach her. "I did not come here to challenge for the throne."

"Then why are you here?"

Shuri furrowed her brows. She did not know the exact reason. She hated Warrior Falls, actually. As a child, she'd always associated it with being forced to wear itchy ensembles or watch boring fights. That is, until a few years ago, when T'Challa fought M'Baku and N'Jadaka here. She now thought of Warrior Falls as the place her brother not only once, but twice nearly died in. So why did it beckon her so?

"Okoye. Do you ever think of your tribe? Before you left it?"

Okoye sat beside her. Being that she was not in her Midnight Angels suit and no longer a Dora, she wore casual Wakandan wear. A sight Shuri was still getting used to. "Of course I do. I come from a long line of shepherds and farmers. But do not be fooled, as The Border Tribe was and still is Wakanda's first line of defense. We obliterated any threat before they had a chance to even feast their terroristic eyes upon Wakanda's protective barrier. We've earned our bragging rights, as your Americans say." Okoye bumped her shoulder against Shuri's, teasing a small smile out of her. Okoye's voice softened as she sank further into memory. "My father used to grow the sweetest yellow yam. Better than W'Kabi's, but do not tell him I said that. And my mother. . . she sang me songs full of stories about the king's personal protectors, instilling in me the dream of becoming a part of the Dora. After their spirits answered Bast's call, I decided to make that dream come true."

I'm so sorry the dream doesn't exist anymore, Shuri wanted to say, but couldn't bring herself to. She blamed herself for Okoye no longer holding the title. But Okoye often assured that she had let go of the position and was ready to move on to the something more. "I do not understand, Okoye. Why must violence always be the price we pay for transformation? For progress?"

"Hm." Okoye tilted her head, thoughtful. For the first time in her life, Shuri saw shadows of black hair peeking through her tatted scalp. "Is this why M'Baku sits on the throne now, instead of you?"

"My father sat on the throne only to die. My brother sat on the throne only to die. And my mother, just the same. That throne is cursed." Shuri's voice was as bitter as heart-shaped herb tea.

"Cursed? I thought scientists such as you did not believe in curses."

"I've visited the Ancestral Plane. I—I have senses," said Shuri, struggling to explain the black-furred soul trapped in her mind, "that tread the world beyond physics. What I believe in, I am no longer sure."

Okoye turned and took hold of Shuri's hands. She rubbed her callused thumbs over Shuri's tattooed skin. "I've served under many Panthers, and from them I've learned that Wakanda's Protector is never alone. The herb is always there for you, if you are ever in need of ancestral guidance."

Shuri stood up, so quick, a cat alerted to danger. "Taking the herb is not an option for me."

Okoye stood with her, pose straight, electric, determined. "How, when it has been this way since Bashenga?"

"Because of who I saw, the first time I went there." Shuri swallowed hard. The first and only time she'd went there. She backed away from the rock's edge. The Panther Spirit growled, paced in its cage.

Okoye took hold of her arm. "And who did you see? What troubles you, Shuri?"

Shuri's dark eyes shone. She'd never admitted this to anyone, not even Nakia. "My cousin. I saw my cousin, and only him."

Silence. As deafening as the Falls. The wind blew at them. It was only until Okoye spoke that Shuri realized it was not a surprised silence, rather one where Okoye was waiting for Shuri to explain. When she did not, Okoye quirked an eyebrow. "And what have you learned from it?"

"I. . . learned?"

"Yes." Okoye circled Shuri. Even without her spear, she looked like a warrior. The water shifted around their ankles as if it, too, were intimidated. "I served Killmonger, once. Though it was brief, I have no shame in that. He taught me something valuable, that the throne matters just as much as whoever sits upon it. So. . . what did Cousin teach you?"

Ah. Shuri shut her eyes. So this is what she needed. Okoye's voice was not laden with pity or concern. But purpose. She did have a general's heart. And perhaps that's why she confessed to Okoye. They shared so much. Ramonda had stripped Okoye of her entire world; she understood what it was like to feel Queen Mother's rejection. And she understood what it meant to be pinned underneath Killmonger's sway.

Shuri recalled T'Challa once telling her that the Ancestral Plane was a very purple, but beautiful and fitting retirement. And for the most part, he had been right. The plane had been very purple, but also orange and yellow and red from the flames burning all around her and Killmonger. She felt a deep shame, seeing him. She regretted the words she told him. How he influenced her so quickly. And what type of leader succumbs in such a way? For the past weeks, a shamefaced Shuri had hid herself from everyone. They couldn't even find her in her lab. But the same compassion she extended to her enemy. . . perhaps it was time she offered it to herself.

Shuri's eyes opened, and they sparkled with renewed confidence. "I learned while anger is a valuable tool, vengeance is its puppeteer."

Okoye smiled, wide and beautifully. She stopped circling. "And you are no one's puppet." The corners of her smile faded, and she looked down at her deep blue dress, then out at the Falls. "Not even a puppet to tradition."

Shuri nodded once, understanding. She was never one for tradition, and she knew Okoye was slowly learning that about herself, too. "I will suggest to King M'Baku that we end Challenge Day. There are better ways to find a king or queen."

"Just bring with you a bowl of vegetables. He claims he cannot hear council on an empty stomach."

They laughed together. Okoye pulled her in for a long embrace. "Thank you," Shuri whispered in the former general's gold-cuffed ear, holding her tight. She and Okoye were both women who had shed old skin, who were finding their footing in newfound roles. They faced uncertainty. Restlessness, even. But they found stillness in each other, and through this, they would persevere.

The Panther Spirit leapt, bound, wind beneath clawed feet. Weight lifted. Free, at last.

[asmrtist-brainrot]

Hey, I'm not sure if I subjected you specifically to this nonsense, but you've been posting about Villain Husband more lately, so I thought... (feel very free to ignore this by the way, since it is, as mentioned above, nonsense :))

early in relationships - probably even before the whole kidnapping thing, they just kind of exist in parallel in the castle, sometimes maybe even pretending the other one doesn't exist (it's mostly Beloved who does it). One day he passes by their parlour and catching them doing some needlework and singing - and here I'm utilizing my favourite trope - language barrier - they're from different kingdoms, so while Beloved is educated and speaks his language very well, it's not their mother tongue - and they're singing a local folk song, so he doesn't understand much (maybe just a few words) but he can hear that it's very sad. He just stands there mesmerized by them and their voice and tries not to even breathe too loud so that they don't notice him. And they don't. Or at least they pretend not to.

I even made a playlist of sad folk (and folk-ish) songs about tragic love and death that I'd probably sing in this situation (if I could sing).

Ughhh, I'm sawft.

Okay, the kingdoms I imagine might be placed in Europe so it would be fun to think about Beloved's family'a region allowing them to become somewhat of a polygot despite the lack of travel.

It made their hand highly sought for as they were not only intelligent and kind, but their father's "selling point" about them is their knowledge in multiple cultures. They grew into royalty mostly because of good relations with other countries' nobility.

... Honestly, their father really relied on Beloved for all this, so if their allies other countries would find he sold away his child - they would not be happy about it.

But this would be such a sweet thought... Makes me think when they get closer.

When they start sharing a bed and he's cheeky enough to "order" them to sing to him...

Just to melt as they start stroking his hair and singing their favorite lullabies.

... They also lowkey influence him with small phrases in their language whenever he's frustrated or annoyed.

~ Dari

[horribletimemanagementskills]

So, language barrier AU

this is lowkey kinda outdated since TWST ENG came out, but I found this funny. Also I in no way am the creator of this AU, i don't know who made it but I'm a big fan-.

so take it as the Original JP version in the sense where in TWST Japanese is called Commonspeak (I think? I might've read too many fanfics-), and probably the most spoken language there, along with other languages (idk if they have other names as well) like Arabic(Scalding Sands) and French(Rook).

Basically all languages are spoken except English, which is considered a dead language like Latin, which is odd bc I'm pretty sure Latin is mentioned there or is hinted in TWST, like Idia is based off of Hades and ancient books mention so hypothetically-

anyways what I actually wanted to get into was:

what If a MC/Yuu that spoke English, whether first language or later learned, monolingual or can speak a few languages, tried to teach the first years English?

Like some people who learn English as a second language say its a bitch of a language to learn, with rule inconsistencies and pronunciations, English is my first language and I still don't understand some things-

It doesn't have to be first years only, teach them some grammar rules, imagine the chaos:

p-u-t and b-u-t pronunciation

weight and height

tell the difference between eight and ate pronunciation wise-

past participles, specifically the lie-lay-lain kinda stuff (I still don't get them if I loose the mark I loose the mark)

tear (like paper) and tear (crying)

Taught though thought through throughout thorough tough (this was copy and paste-)

random letters in a word that hold no significance in the pronunciation

two letters that are placed in a different way than they are pronounced , like Wednesday (dn and not nd, 1st grade spelling tests were 🤺🤺)

wait till they start speaking in better grammar than MC/Yuu can

Another more realistic scenario by my standards is that MC/Yuu gives up on teaching them and only teach them essentials, giving them the true meaning or twisting them you choose.

The main words taught would be curse words and no, yes, maybe, incompetent crow. If you twist the words' meanings the cast might still catch on bc like MC/Yuu gets visibly frustrated, and curse in English, I think they would realize sooner or later.

Also anything like cognates (words that are spelt and/or pronounced similar, I think cognates is for Spanish but you know what I mean) would be funny. Similarly words that look and sound similar, but mean completely different, this isn't only for Japanese but whatever other languages are indicated to exist there.

I feel the 1st years and Grim would learn it better than the rest, excluding Lilia, Malleus (both are old asf, might as well have read it) and maybe Crowley (probs a fae) and Idia (and to that extent Ortho they would have had access to it, and maybe some others as well).

And tbh this can go for any other language as well (besides Japanese-), minus the "knowing a language no one else knows" curse privilege, I doubt a lot of people would know Finnish, Norwegian, Korean, Creole/Patois of any language (for my Caribbean and African amigos), Chinese and probably some others as well.

French, I mean Rook probably already understands and to an extent Vil, Lilia and some others would as well, Japanese is the main language spoken there.

this is messy, Idk I just find this idea neat- add more give me brainrot if you want

[pilotbites]

_chats__bug_ reposted on instagram one of your commission, he/she put credits but i think he/she actually doesn't ask for the permission to post . Sorry for bothering you

thanks for letting me know anon!! That’s really nice of you! :-)anyway, glad to know they placed credits. PSA regarding permissions: Followers, know that although I’m personally not too bugged (anymore) about the whole permissions thing, as long as they place credit it’s okay with me. I mean, honestly, I can’t really stop people from downloading my work and uploading it somewhere else. I can’t keep track of everything and on every platform that exists. I’ve got so much on my plate rn I honestly cant remember who asked permission or who didn’t (other than my record of chats/asks/dms with people asking for permission).

To those who ask permission, I say thank you for respecting and honoring my work enough to at least show some courtesy and ask permission. I appreciate it very much! To those who want to repost my work elsewhere, please credit me in the description, tag me in the photo and at least show my signature on the work. I mean, I’ve seen a few accounts who haven’t outright asked my permission - but they add credit properly. (It’s in my FAQ, fyi) To those who see my work circling around but without the permission granted notice anywhere (like this amazing anon - honestly, you are sweetheart), please ask them (nicely) to credit my work via comment or dm/pm! Some are just unaware and are more than willing to credit the work! I’ve encountered a few who don’t really speak english that well, so it might be a language barrier!

I hope that clears things up!