#Language barrier

[aventurineswife]

I love your writing, it's really tasty! Here's a fun idea for Genshin characters! (Maybe Diluc, Wriothesely, Albedo?) The reader doesn't speak the same language as them (maybe they've been isekakai'd and the world logic is unruly) and is sorta been following them around for a bit as a companion, helping them with stuff or whatever

But the two are slowly falling in love because actions speak louder than words, right? Maybe reader one-day is trying hard to learn some phrases and unwittingly says 'i I love you'

Lost in Translation

Tags: Diluc x Reader, Wriosthesley x Reader, Albedo x Reader, Fluff, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Language Barrier, Miscommunication, Isekai’d!Reader, Acts of Service as Love Language, Established Trust, Soft Romance.

Warnings: Mild Emotional Tension, Accidental Confession, Subtle Romantic Gestures (Hand-holding, Forehead Taps, Lingering Touches), Some Ambiguous Intentions, Reader May Feel Confused Due to Language Barrier.

You had been following Diluc around for some time now, helping him at Dawn Winery however you could. Though the two of you didn’t share a common language, you found other ways to communicate—gestures, expressions, and sometimes even just handing him things when he needed them before he could ask.

At first, he was distant, but over time, his gaze softened whenever he looked at you. The way you diligently followed him, helping in small ways—bringing him a towel after he trained, setting a warm drink beside him when he worked late—he couldn’t help but grow fond of you.

One evening, after a long day, you sat across from him in the winery. You had been practicing Mondstadtian phrases for a while, determined to communicate with him better.

Diluc raised an eyebrow when you took a deep breath and spoke, a bit hesitantly, “I… love you.”

His fingers stilled against the wine glass he was holding, eyes widening slightly.

You, unaware of the impact of your words, beamed at him, proud of yourself. “Did… I say it right?”

Diluc exhaled, setting his glass down carefully before leaning toward you. His voice was lower than usual, tinged with something you couldn’t quite name.

“Yes,” he murmured, gaze never leaving yours. “You said it perfectly.”

And when his hand reached across the table to brush against yours, his warmth lingered long after.

Life in the Fortress of Meropide was strange, but Wriothesley had taken you under his wing, in a way. Even though you didn’t speak the same language, you proved useful—helping out with tasks around the office, bringing him tea when he looked exhausted, even stepping in to stop him from overworking himself.

At first, he thought it was amusing. You’d try to communicate with him, waving your hands around and making exaggerated expressions. Over time, though, he found himself relying on your presence more than he expected.

One day, you sat in front of him, face scrunched up in concentration as you held a small notebook. You had been trying to learn his language, and he found it adorable.

With a determined nod, you looked up at him and, in a carefully practiced tone, said, “I love you.”

Wriothesley froze. The usual easygoing expression slipped from his face, replaced by something unreadable.

You tilted your head, confused by his reaction. Had you said it wrong?

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “Do you know what you just said?”

You blinked. “Did… I say it wrong?”

He smirked, reaching out to tap your forehead gently with two fingers. “No. You said it just right.”

Your confusion deepened until he took your hand in his, thumb brushing against your knuckles. “I should warn you, though—saying things like that might make someone fall for you.”

You still weren’t entirely sure what he meant, but the way his fingers lingered on yours made your heart race all the same.

Albedo was fascinated by you. The fact that you came from another world, spoke a language he didn’t understand, and yet somehow managed to communicate with him so effortlessly—it intrigued him.

You spent your days in Dragonspine, assisting him in small ways—handing him vials before he even reached for them, sketching alongside him, warming his fingers with your own when they grew too cold.

Though words failed you, actions never did.

One day, he caught you in his research tent, scribbling furiously in your notebook. When you noticed him, you perked up, cleared your throat, and in slow, careful pronunciation, said, “I love you.”

Albedo’s eyes widened just slightly, his usual composed demeanor faltering for the briefest moment. He set his quill down, stepping closer to you.

“Do you understand what you just said?” he asked, voice impossibly soft.

You hesitated. Had you messed up?

Seeing your uncertainty, Albedo smiled—gently, fondly. He reached out, tracing a gloved finger along your wrist before taking your hand in his.

“In my language,” he murmured, “that phrase means something very important.”

Your heart pounded as he brought your hand to his lips, pressing the lightest of kisses against your knuckles.

“And if you truly meant it,” he continued, meeting your eyes, “then allow me to say it in return—I love you, too.”

[votapublica]

When your English is almost perfect. Almost.

[lizardboiii]

Tongue Tied┃One Piece - Pt. 2

[Protective!Dracule Mihawk x Poneglyph Speaking!Reader]

│Summary: Washed up on a gloomy shore, your only solace is a dark an empty castle. Yet, when the castle's only resident finally returns, you are met with an undeniable problem. The language you speak is completely dead to his world.

"Flailing your hands around isn't going to make me understand you any more."

"𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎, 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚗𝚘 𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐!"

・❥・

│cw: SFW, 18+, unfortunate slow start

│wc: 1.4k

│chapters: I II III

│notes: accidentally wrote the reader as such a golden retriever lmao. also, please let me know if the switch between languages is getting hard to understand! shorter chapter cause i'm overworked ;(

│AO3 Link!

・❥・

│Chapter II: Golden Hour

Ever-eerie. Ever-present. Ever-gold. 

The undeniable sensation of watchful eyes consumed you as you haunted the castle’s halls. They followed from vestibule to vestibule. The source of them hiding somewhere in the darkest of corners. Sometimes…Goldy seemed more phantom than man.

It was foreign at first, the omnipresent feeling of sharp eyes piercing through you. They reigned supreme. Placing every action you made on trial, Goldy played the judge, jury, and executioner.

Eventually, you learned to pay his stare no mind, preferring to slowly attempt communication with the ravenette in your native tongue. 

The aforementioned man merely allowed you to rattle on. He treated your voice as if it was simply background noise, disregarding your presence like a lesser being. 

Goldy’s pride scarcely made a dent in your determination. In fact, after a few days had passed, you no longer clung close to the walls, favoring to follow the massive man around like a lost duckling. 

Your previous isolation had made you needy.

Before you knew it, you and Goldy had developed a routine - whether he liked it or not. Your day started earlier than most. The sun just barely rising before you stirred awake from a restless sleep. You found Goldy preferred to slumber longer. His form not stalking the halls till an hour later, possibly more.

Until then, you’d pad around the empty halls. You walked with no destination in mind, noting any foyers you preferred over another. And when you scoured the entire castle - you’d start again. The soles of your feet wore into the stone. You were sure if you looked hard enough, you could see the beginnings of a path in the shape of your feet.

At last, Goldy would awaken. He moved with little disturbance, often evading your notice. However, whether he was outside refining his skill in the art of sword or simply relaxing in the parlor, you always managed to find him.

Today was no different. 

You had been meandering throughout western wing, absentmindedly tracing the serpentine engravings of the coffered ceilings with your eyes. Then, a wedge of light caught your attention. 

You dropped your gaze, glancing out of one of the many floor length windows. Its cracked windowsill framed a direct view of the northwestern courtyard. 

Through the quickly fading golden hour, you could just make out the form of Goldy. He sat passively in a cushioned chair facing the sea. 

A fresh newspaper was clutched in his hand while the other held an opaque chalice. Across from him was a chess table. However, no second chair existed for another player to claim.

You smiled at your discovery, you had found him faster than usual. It didn't take long for your form to gently glide towards the window. Curiosity consumed you. Standing before the window enthralled, you watch every movement Goldy made intently. 

When he yawned - so did you. 

When he rubbed his chin - you followed in suit. 

When he re-crossed his legs - you shifted your feet.

Your mimicry didn't last long. As quickly as you noticed him, he noticed you. Without warning, Goldy’s eyes flung to your own, drilling into them. You jumped in surprise. Even after a week of dancing around each other, you still couldn't get used to their divine aureolin. 

Regaining composure, you grinned at him with a wave. Goldy ignored your hospitality. He was quick to return to his newspaper, feigning ignorance. However, you were sure he understood what would come next.

You barreled towards the courtyard. Skipping steps and slamming doors, you easily found your way to the grumpy man. Goldy remained unfazed at your sudden appearance. 

You walked beside his chair with a large smile, excited to talk to someone other than yourself. 

“𝙶𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐!”

Your voice drew a puff of air from the man, his eyes shifting to you for only a moment. You hummed at the attention. Plopping down on the ground, you rested your head against the arm of his chair.

“𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝?” You beamed at the man above you.

Flip.

You turned your gaze to the sea, “𝙳𝚒𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕?”

Flip.

Your composure began to waiver, “𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢? 𝙸 𝚜𝚕𝚎𝚙𝚝 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝!”

Flip.

Finally, the smile you forced dropped, “𝚂𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚜 𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝚠𝚎 𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚞𝚊𝚐𝚎.” You picked at the grass beneath you, “𝚃𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚖𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚐𝚗𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚎 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚎.”

A long sigh made you jolt in surprise. Goldy tossed his newspaper on the side table next to him in annoyance. Two firm fingers squeezing the bridge of his nose.

“Just what are you chattering about?” 

You perked up at the response, returning your gaze to the ravenette, “𝙰𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚗𝚎𝚠𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚙𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢, 𝙶𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚢?”

He met your excited gaze coolly. You could practically see the gears in his head turning, frustrated with the fact he wouldn't be able to pull answers from you.

Goldy leaned his head on his hand, refusing to move his eyes off of you, “What am I going to do with you?”

Your mouth curved into a small smile. Although you couldn't understand him, you've determined your second favorite thing about Goldy was his voice.

You turned back to the sea solemnly. Even though you could see his imposing figure, hear his rich cadence - it was as if nothing had changed. You still felt so utterly alone. 

The crashing waves called you home, beckoning your aching heart. Beyond them, bobbing up and down, Goldy’s ship offered itself. A way back home. 

A way back to sanity.

Pointing your finger at the ship, you snapped your head over to the older man, “𝙶𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚢, 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚊𝚝!”

Goldy raised a sharp brow at your sudden outburst. 

You chewed your bottom lip, trying to figure out a way to articulate your thoughts. Determined, you pointed at him, “𝙶𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚢.”

Then, you pointed to the ship, "𝙱𝚘𝚊𝚝.”

A low rumble escaped his chest before he gestured to himself, “Goldy?”

You shook your head enthusiastically, “𝙶𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚢!”

“You named me?” He spoke more to himself than you, rubbing the pointed edges of his beard. Displeased, Goldy quickly shook his head, “No.”

You tilted your head in confusion. Had he rejected the name? 

Goldy swished the glass in his hand, “Mihawk.” 

You tasted the name on your tongue, carefully mouthing every syllable, “Mi-hawk?”

A faint smile grew on his face, “Mihawk.”

Grinning, you signaled to yourself, “(𝚢/𝚗)!”

“(𝚢/𝚗)?” He placed the chalice to his lips, “You’re quite a troublesome brat, “(𝚢/𝚗).”

Your stomach flipped at the sound of your name. You hoped he'd say it more.

Pointing at the ship once more, you called out to him, "Mihawk. 𝙱𝚘𝚊𝚝.”

Mihawk followed your finger, “𝙱𝚘𝚊𝚝?” His brows furrowed slightly before relaxing, “Do you want my boat?”

He stood suddenly, as if he connected the dots he had been chasing. Ignoring your confused form, Mihawlk allowed his long legs to lead him to the path back to the castle. He looked back only for a moment. His large hand beckoning you to follow in suit. 

You stood quickly, fumbling over your own feet. You couldn't lose this chance. 

Mihawk walked briskly, winding through the castle halls before he led you to large french doors. You had seen them before during your morning strolls. However, you were never able to investigate what was hidden behind them. Mihawk kept them under lock and key. 

Reaching inside his pocket, the aforementioned man pulled out a small silver key. It glimmered under the sunlight enhancing the skull design on its embossed head. As quick as he revealed it, he unlocked the room.

The door swung open ominously. The darkness of the room seemed to creep out into the hallway, dying the floor black. Even so, Mihawk entered the room without hesitation. You wasted no time following close behind.

Eventually, Mihawk allowed himself to relax in an armed car across from the room’s fireplace. Taking out a pen and paper, he offered the utensils to you. You gladly accepted them. 

Twirling the pen in your hand, you tried to ignore Mihawk’s piercing stare. 

First, you began to draw a boat. Beneath it you labeled:

“𝙱𝚘𝚊𝚝.”

Next, you drew an arrow leading to a small island with a house on it. Beneath which you wrote:

“𝙷𝚘𝚖𝚎.”

Looking up from your drawings, you smiled at Mihawk eagerly. However, your grin quickly dropped at Mihawk’s expression.

You had never seen Mihawk’s face get so pale.

“This is impossible.”

Mihawk snatched the paper from your grip. 

“How could you possibly know…”

His eyes searched your writing frantically.

“Poneglyph.”

・❥・

[threepandas]

Bad End: Trust

"Meet your new mates, cargo! Get breeding!"

I didn't understand the bellowed noises at the time. It was just incoherent gibberish. Heaped on top of what was likely a concussion, mixed with what ever drugs they had pumped me with. Thrown into a cell, roughly, and hitting the ground hard. I couldn't have caught myself if I had wanted too. My limbs, unresponsive and dragging meat, that I could barely FEEL.

Please, god, I had thought. Don't let me be paralyzed. Not on top of everything else.

They'll kill me.

Behind and around me, the weeping cries of sorrow and fear rang out. Screams of violence, born of desperation. Countless races, bound together, suffering in this hell. Newly enslaved. I didn't... I couldn't understand. Shaking and struggling to remain conscious, laying on the blood stained floor. The world swayed violently. It was all I could do, to barely keep from passing out.

It was so cold. The air, the floor, the deep and clawing despair, sinking like knives into my gut. Those furry... things, had grabbed me while I was alone, before I could react. W-would anyone notice? Could anyone DO anything? I wanted to get away from the door. Curl up in a corner and... and cry. But I could not move. Like a doll, dropped thoughtlessly on the floor, I could not... could not move.

Tears I likely could not afford, threatened to choke me.

I... I was scared.

Then, deeper in the hovel that was my new home, movement. The heavy clink of chains. Shifting, slow and careful, followed by the drag of metal. A warm hand. Fingers, calloused but careful, checking my neck. My pulse, for injury perhaps, I couldn't tell. But... god, i could have sobbed in relief. They... they felt human.

How terrible of me. That I was GLAD not to be alone. T-That it was relief, to have another person here. Someone who might know what's going on. What to do. To.. to stick with. I... I should wish it was just me, right? That they captured no one else? But... oh god. O-Oh God, I can't! I'm scared. Please. P-please...

I'm so scared.

The person checking me hummed low and soft. Their voice crackling like an old radio that's been left sitting on a shelf too long, unused. How.. how long has it been? Since they last had anyone to talk too? They sounded male, but.. but I didn't want to presume. Could just have a low voice. Throat injury. Might be Trans. I didn't care, couldn't care. I was pretty sure? We were all we had now.

They... no, He, found nothing alarming enough not to move me. Shifting into view as he gently slipped his arms under me. Enough to pick me up and carry me away from the door. He was... is... pretty handsome.

Okay, REALLY handsome.

Horrifically enough? I could see WHY they grabbed him. Athletic as hell, TV ready, really smart. If you were going to ignore ever bit of decency and morality to ever exsist? Might as well go for the best, I guess. Don't know why they grabbed ME, but I guess? They need a stand in or something? Or my predecessor is dead.

(God, I hope she's dead. The alternative...)

Pretty quickly became apparent, though, that one of the main problems (of so, SO many)? Was we don't actually speak the same language. Which... I mean... Well, shit. That's, putting it mildly, "less then ideal". Being unable to communicate with the only other person nominally on "My Side"? Kinda bad! But, I AM learning. And I am teaching him english! So there's that.

We have nothing but time, after all. It helps distract from the suffering just outside. The weeping and screams. The sounds that must be begging, in alien dialects. All the mercies they do not find.

(Is it terrible? That I am glad I can not understand what they are saying? Their cries for help? I can't help them. It hurts. Helpless to even save my self. God, I'm sorry. Please... I'm... I'm so sorry...)

Food gets shoved in. Lights flipped on. Lights shut off. The timer odd, but probably standard for somewhere. It's like being told to go to sleep halfway through the afternoon. Yanked awake before full nights are done. I struggle to adapt, even a little, following my fellow prisoner's lead. Or, well, trying too. There's a lot of charades at first.

Then, practicing our languages. Taking what naps and cuddling for warmth we can. Harsh lights be damned. It's cold, we're tired, but we have to keep our strength up. Right? Throughout it all, I try to ignore the weird smells they pump in. Still not used to getting random scents blasted at my head from above, from the air vents in the walls.

Day in, day out, rinse and repeate. The weird gasses smells like people have had sex, to be honest. I think? But don't quote me. They might be trying to get us to "mate", like animals, so they can sell our kids. Induce some nonexistent human heat cycle or something. I've kinda started to worry, not gonna lie, about what they'll do... you know, once they finally get frustrated. Figure out, we don't work like that.

Or... more relevantly, might not even be? Compatible?

Cause Azenari is DEFINITELY not a human. They fucked uuuup. Cause if he is? There is some probably serious divergent evolution going on. He did NOT get nabbed from Earth. HE got nabbed from his SHIP(as in, yeah, a fuckin Space Ship). Because HIS people are space faring! The man has pointy ears for fucks sake! Some seriously fangy canines. And while, yeah, seriously kinda cool? No idea if our species are related, or... you know...

So yeah, The Fur Covered Slaver Bastards are apparently Humanoid face blind, on TOP of being just generally terrible. Or dumb! Might be dumb, honestly. Wouldn't put it past them. Banality of evil and all that. But recently? There was a... tension. Something was coming. The Bastards seemed twitchy.

"Not long now, beloved. We're two stops from the extraction ambush." Azenari murmured, from where he was tucked loosely around me as I watch the latest patrol pass, one arm cradling me tight. Even as, with the other hand, he sleepily stroked my back. "You'll look lovely in proper robes. You deserve finery, my love."

I couldn't understand most of the sentence. Normally he simplified for me, since I was still learning. He seemed... pleased? Smug? The more tense and twitchy the Bastards got, the more darkly amused he seemed to become. As though he knew exactly why. As though he was laughing inside.

"My magnificent darling, you'll belong to me in everyway that matters. I'll take safer jobs. No more slave ring stings. I promise."

Oh. I think I got it. Azenari though of me as family! Yeah, that tracked. Trauma bonding and all. I did too. Couldn't help but smile, hugging him back, much to his clear delight. Yeah. We were in this together.

I'm glad I had someone I could trust. The universe was big and I would be pretty much alone without him. All but thrown at his feet and told I was his, Azenari had every chance to hurt me. But he didn't. He was a good man. Solid and stable when everything when frightening, warm and there when I needed to hide.

Really, it was only a matter of time before we would be chatting like old friends!

"You are NEVER going to escape me, beloved."

"I Love You."

[lumpsbumpsandwhumps]

we need more language barriers in whump because it's so fucking good no matter if you use it for whumper and whumpee or whumpee and caretaker or especially carewhumper and whumpee or any combination!!!!

Whumpee not being able to know what the fuck is going on no matter how many times they ask, only being manhandled into various situations because they don't understand how to comply with whatever is being told to them (gently or not is up to you >:3c)

Having to rely on tones and facial expressions to get a vague sense of what the other person is trying to get across, despite all the repetition of sounds and slow pronunciations and childish gesturing

Those little moments where a word just finally clicks for someone, the one piece of common ground, even if they can't fully repeat it back due to an accent that maybe earns them an amused chuckle or a scowl

Endless frustration and exploding so many pent up feelings for a rant that falls on deaf ears, because why is this so hard to comprehend, why can't you just understand my words, why do I feel like such a fucking idiot??? And what do they get in return? Silence...or more foreign gibberish.

Not bothering to keep quiet about their thoughts, agreeable or otherwise, vulgar or polite -- what does it matter? No one is going to understand a lick of it, they can say whatever the hell they want (unless maybe someone does catch a couple words or phrases hmmm)

Whumpers using sweet coos and nice smiles while saying the most awful shit. Caretakers being endlessly patient in trying to foster some kind of trust and feasible communication. Carewhumpers being stern and hands on because there's no time to waste in getting Whumpee to grasp what they need from them.

The longer they're in each others company, the more quirks and micro expressions they start to pick up, long before they ever fully understand a word of what's being said, including when someone is lying or when a nerve has been struck

Realizing which words mean "bad thing" and which words mean "good thing"

[aziraphales-library]

Hi! I was wondering if you could recommend any good fics with some sort of language barrier/difference in language between Az and Crowley. I just recently read Buried Treasure by InfeffableToreshi and I really liked it, would love those kinda vibes if you can find it in other fics. I also read an Omegaverse royalty fic where Az pretends he can’t speak Crowleys language, not a huge fan of omegaverse but smth like that would be good too. Longer works would be preferred but anything works. Thanks!

Hello! I haven't read the fic you mentioned, so am unsure of the vibes, but here are some fics featuring language/communication differences...

Food is Love by Sodium_Azide (T)

A chance childhood meeting leads to a lifetime sharing languages, hijinks, and meals together. Aziraphale and Anthony reach across cultures and nourish each others’ hearts and souls.

Scientific Discovery by SeasNStars (T)

Aziraphale had just departed on a two-month-long research study to a secluded island. He ends up encountering a creature of only myth and legend, a marvel to science to be sure.

Across Tides and Currents by doorwaytoparadise, Sodium_Azide (T)

A modern fantasy AU, featuring an inauspicious first meeting, inter-species romance, and meeting in the middle. Aziraphale lives a quiet life on the New England coastline, enduring the bad weather and gathering marine data for the local universities. During the worst storm of the worst hurricane season he can remember, something washes up on shore. "He looked back towards the ocean as the lightning flashed again. There. On the shoreline, rocking in the storm swell. Oh God no."

A Quiet Place by NightValeian (T)

Once upon a time, a silent angel and an outspoken demon met on a wall. Over time, they manage to find some common ground.

Dismantled by Asking_for_a_Fiend (M)

"But calling you by the SKU is really derogatory.” Disgust once again settles on the man’s expressive face. “A-zero-F-L. Eizero-F-L. Eizirofel. Aziraphale?” The handler’s face lights up. “Hey, d’you know there’s an angel called Aziraphale? Aziraphale. What do you think?” The griffin hums, testing the name in his mind. “Not that bad. I’ll think about it.” *** Aziraphale is a griffin raised in a human world, without any contact with others of his own specie, but not really craving it, either. But there's this one handler at the sanctuary, determined to teach him how to be a griffin. Aziraphale is not sure if he shares the ambition, still, the handler himself may be worth giving this a try.

Pitch Black, Pale Blue by enbeeemcee (M)

Crowley's about at the end of his rope. His internship is nothing more than washing all the equipment used by the interns who actually do real scientific research and his boss hates him. His friends either urge him to keep at it or encourage him to drink and forget. Neither of which are particularly helpful. Then, one night, he finds something on the beach.

And the one you mentioned...

Buried Treasure by IneffableToreshi (E)

Aziraphale Fell and his small team are working hard to uncover a mystery that has been discovered deep in the desert in a region with no known history of habitation... ...and they are having very little luck coming up with anything other than stone brick upon stone brick. But as their sponsorships are dwindling and Aziraphale's hopes for the project are beginning to well and truly die, he literally falls right into the site's secret, and discovers something much, much more important than he could have ever imagined.

- Mod D

[dontforgetukraine]

Kharkiv's Faktor-Druk printing house has resumed operation after being severely damaged by a Russian missile strike on May 23. The facility is only partially restored, and they have shifted focus to printing essential educational materials such as textbooks for the new school year.

According to Tatiana Hryniuk, the general director, damages from the Russian missile strike exceed €10 million, with losses still being calculated. The attack claimed seven lives and destroyed almost 100,000 books.

Source: Kharkiv’s Faktor-Druk printing house resumes operations after Russian missile strike

[a-drifting-mannequin]

Language Barrier

Fandom: Sonic (MOVIE) Pairings: Dr. Eggman | Dr. Robotnik/Agent Stone; Stobotnik Warnings: Cussing Chapter 1: Falling asleep

Summary: Whenever Robotnik feels immensely frustrated, Stone often hears something nearly illegible to his ears. Upon closer inspection, Stone feels like this problem would’ve been defused long ago if he had spoken up.

Short collection of five times Stone couldn’t (or more like outright refused to) understand Robotnik and one time when he actually responded.

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“God fucking hell!” Robotnik’s voice echoed through the empty lab, bouncing off the metal walls that surrounded him. His goggles were quickly tossed off of his head, landing on the floor with a dull thud, just beside the chair he was sitting on. Stone stood not too far away, watching the scene unfold with a silent sigh. Steaming coffee in hand, he approached the doctor with caution.

Ever since this project that had been bestowed onto them a week too late, Stone and Robotnik has been working their asses off to meet the deadline that was only a week away. Stone had sent many angry emails to Commander Walters during the first day of the project under Robotnik’s orders, but inevitably got no response in return which only served to fuel the doctor’s fury.

‘You can’t rush perfection’, they say. It didn’t look like G.U.N.’s higher-ups understood that. Even an average person shouldn’t expect too much from a genius.

While the deadline didn’t do as much as scare the pair, the unnecessary feedback and additional details that were missing from the original requirements was what throwing Robotnik off the edge. The doctor didn’t do so much as to walk out his lab, insisting on sleeping at the main console and refusing food. Stone had taken it as a mission to make sure that Robotnik was hydrated and eating, even if the doctor didn’t touch the food for an hour after it was placed down.

Coffee remained a necessity. Stone had consider switching the doctor’s usual latte out for something decaf, but the smell of decaf coffee had a huge difference compared to the latte the agent was used to making. Robotnik would notice right away, even when he hadn’t taken a sip of the liquid, so Stone decided against it.

“Your coffee, Doctor.” Stone said calmly, pressing the warm cup against Robotnik’s cheek in hopes of calming the man down.

For a moment, a flash of malice crossed those tired eyes. Robotnik’s body tensed up similar to a scared animal about to attack. And, in a way, he did try to attack Stone, unsuccessful or not.

The gloved hand that weren’t laid on the holographic keyboard clenched into a fist, pressing down on the buttons in the palm of his hand in a way that would’ve broke them. Robotnik’s fist came flying towards Stone, seemingly in a practiced move. If Stone hadn’t dodged it, he was sure he would end up with a broken nose and spilled coffee on the ground.

When Robotnik finally registered the fact that it wasn’t another no-name agent mocking him for feeling frustrated, his eyes soften almost instantly and the doctor took a moment to calm down and regain his composure. Stone’s gaze was unwavering, laced with a little surprise but his eyes were dominated mostly by genuine concern and worry for the doctor’s health.

Grabbing the steaming cup with a mumbled noise of appreciation and an unspoken apology, Robotnik tilted the cup upwards to completely drain all of the liquid in it. Stone watched with concern.

Placing the cup down with some force, his hand darted out to grab onto Stone’s tie, pulling him down so their faces were inches apart. Stone remained calm, glancing curiously at the doctor, noting that he might have to inflict some actual injuries onto the doctor in order to get him to sleep. The deadline be damned; he would prioritize the doctor’s health over a few machines. If said machines weren’t the badniks.

“Do you see this, Stone? Do you see what they’re making a genius like me do?” Robotnik asked, a finger pointed accusingly at the screen in front of him. His voice was a mixture of a breathy laugh and a scream that would’ve torn the universe apart. The universe in question was Stone.

Stone didn’t reply, understanding that was a rhetorical question and wasn’t meant to be answered. Instead, he offered the doctor a subtle nod, agreeing that this project was by far one of the stupidest thing they’ve been subjected to.

Field work was more stressful than this, but it would help Robotnik burn off some pent up energy and Stone’s pent up rage. It would do them both good but Walters had restricted field missions from Stone’s hands, instructing and treating him as if he was Robotnik’s caregiver. It’s not like it was ever a dull day working for the doctor, he just wanted to kill someone sometimes.

Then again, Stone reminded himself that Robotnik was too important to be out on field missions, both to him and to G.U.N.

If the doctor was severely hurt or wounded, it would take a while for him to recover. That meant delayed projects, no more commissions and efficiency within the lab plummet at a rate that was considered most concerning.

With a frustrated groan, the doctor released his tie and got back to work, hunched over like a shrimp and typing away at some codes before hastily turning to restart the assembly. Stone leaned down to pick up where his goggles had dropped, handing it back to the doctor and making sure to avoid touching Robotnik as much as possible. He needed his personal space right now.

Stone stayed leaning over Robotnik’s shoulder, occasionally moving some unwanted parts away and grabbing tools without the doctor needing to name it. Sparks flew and the sound of the badniks whirring behind the pair as they cleaned up any mess that was left behind filled the lab’s atmosphere. Stone could almost relax if it wasn’t his unwavering devotion and worry for Robotnik.

Of course, staying like this kind of hurt his back and his shoulders. Opting for a more comfortable position, Stone instead leaned against the arm of Robotnik’s chair, being able to relax better but still making an effort to not let his hip touch the doctor’s arm. Robotnik made no comment on Stone’s change of position, clearly too focused on the assembly than whatever his agent was up to.

“Disese gottverdammten Idioten, ich werde sie verdammt noch mal eines Tages umbringen.” Robotnik muttered under his breath in clear frustration after a few minutes of silence, removing his goggles again and titling his head up towards the ceiling, his hands coming up to drag down his tired out features.

The quietly said sentence snapped Stone out of his focus, eyebrow arching in confusion as he turned to look at the angered man. With his extensive research on the doctor, Stone knew that with his position within G.U.N, his language set must vary, from the most basic known languages to some more obscured. From the tone, Stone knew he was speaking German, but didn’t feel the need to respond to Robotnik with the same language. What he was actually curious about, however, was how suddenly Robotnik could change his language and accent.

Instead, Stone masked his understanding of German with slight confusion and intrigue.

“Doctor, could you translate what you said?” Stone requested politely, removing himself from where he was next to the doctor to stand beside him, eyes still directed towards Robotnik while his hands stay clasped in front of him.

“Stone, if your files say anything about you then you should’ve known what I said.” Robotnik resorted, eyebrows furrowing but his eyes never met Stone’s.

Stone stayed quiet for the rest of their work hours, only ever answering Robotnik’s direct orders with short responses. When work hours were over, however, Robotnik insisted that Stone stay at the lab in case of an emergency. Stone didn’t try to argue with the doctor, or point out the obvious excuse the doctor made.

Stone made himself comfortable on the couch that Robotnik had readily off to one side within the lab. Stone safely assumed the reason to have the couch here was because of the many times he saw the doctor sleeping at his monitor, never bothered moving to his own bed to get proper rest.

It was about midnight when Stone felt like his drowsiness was becoming overwhelming. Although he wanted to stay up to assist Robotnik with literally anything, his body and brain were betraying him.

Through hazy vision, the agent saw Robotnik turning around to look at him. A neutral expression laid on his exhausted features.

“Go to sleep, Stone.” Robotnik said simply. No sentiment.

“I can stay up, Doctor.” Stone replied, though he was sure that was a lie itself.

Robotnik didn’t say anything further, didn’t try to carry out the small conversation to make sure Stone stayed true to his words.

The agent did fell asleep at some point, much to his disappointment, laying on his front with his face slightly turned to one side to breathe on the couch. As he drifted off, the quiet drumming of Robotnik’s fingers were the only source of white noise Stone got.

The lab was cold; he could still feel it while he let sleep claim him, sending small shivers across his body as he tried curling in on himself before remembering that he was laying front down on the couch, face turned to one side to be able to breathe.

While he struggled in his sleep, trying to move his limbs that were already heavy from sleep, something that Stone assumed was a blanket was laid gently on his back. Immediately, all the shivering ceased. Stone swore he heard something that sounded vaguely like the doctor, but Stone blamed it on his tired and sleep deprived mind.

He definitely wouldn’t forget what was said to him, though.

“Godnatt, sykofant. Jag behöver dig fortfarande.”

Sometimes, Stone still surprise himself by the fact that his brain can still process his surroundings even in sleep. Maybe it came with the training, maybe Stone was just paranoid.

Morning came relatively quick, the sound of the alarm in still in his pocket waking Stone up with faint sounds and an annoying buzz. Stone groaned and rolled over to the best of his ability, staring up at the sleek black ceiling. He’s still in the lab, still in his suit now wrinkled. Stone used the back of his hand to wipe away at the dried drool on the side of his mouth.

No one was in the lab, all the badniks still in their charging station. The quiet hum of the lab could only provide the agent so much comfort before he was scrambling off the couch, rushing to his temporary quarters a room or two from the lab he was sleeping in before.

Stone couldn’t possibly work in this condition. He didn’t even look presentable enough to be in front of the doctor.

Stone rushed into his quarters and let the door behind him slid shut, concealing him from the soon-to-come judgmental eyes of the doctor.

Throwing open the wardrobe next to the bed he barely slept on, Stone sighed in relief when he saw the line of black attires still hung up and ironed perfectly inside. Taking one off and slipping inside the adjoined bathroom, Stone spent extra time carefully making himself look perfect. Shave a little there, comb down a cowlick here, make sure his eyes didn’t look sleep deprived.

After feeling content with how he looked, Stone exited his quarters with an air of perfectly tamed confidence, feeling like he could start the day normally.

As normal as it could get as Stone tried tiptoeing around the events of last night.

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Special thanks to @aramossy who is Swedish (love you)

Translation (in order):

Disese gottverdammten Idioten, ich werde sie verdammt noch mal eines Tages umbringen (German): These goddamn idiots, I'm going to fucking kill them one day

Godnatt, sykofant. Jag behöver dig fortfarande (Swedish): Goodnight, sycophant. I still need you

[fluttershybaby1]

[aventurineswife]

Reader speaks sometimes in their native language when they are frustrated/excited/in the middle of a rant switch languages. And it intrigues Aventurine, who secretly starts to learn the language too, just to listen in secret.

One day, maybe during a light argument between them, reader drops a cuss word that does translate to "f*** you" and aventurine takes this moment to reply, while grinning from ear to ear "oh? Youre offering for once?"

Stunned silence.

Reader starts freaking out in their native language while aven just stands there with that shit eating grin.

Established relationship. No, they never done the deed, but he wanted to catch reader by surprise, and he did. He so proud of himself.

“You think you’re clever, but just remember: I’m one step ahead”

Summary: You and Aventurine are sharing a relaxed afternoon, and a playful argument about his so-called "inspirational mess" turns into teasing banter. When your frustration leads you to mutter in your native language, Aventurine—who’s secretly been learning it—seizes the chance to tease you in return. Caught between embarrassment and laughter, you realize he’s been one step ahead, and Aventurine is all too proud of himself for the surprise.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Established Relationship, Fluff, Playful Banter, Lighthearted Argument, Language Barrier, Teasing, Humor.

Waring: Slight Swearing.

A/N: THIS IS SUCH A FUNNY REQ!! I LOVE IT HONESTLY!! 🤭 (As someone's who's native language is not English, this is very funny and cute at the same time🥹🤧like imagine your s/o learning your language just so you can communicate freely or learn what you have been saying 🤭🫶💖🥹)

You’re both lounging around his suite on a lazy afternoon, a stack of paperwork untouched as the conversation somehow spirals into an easy back-and-forth about each other’s quirks. It’s all lighthearted and playful, but it doesn’t take long before you’re teasing him for his incredibly deliberate way of never quite cleaning up his cards and dice, always keeping them just a bit scattered, “for inspiration,” he claims.

“Inspiration, huh?” you say, raising an eyebrow. “Well, maybe my inspiration would be higher if I didn’t trip over your cards every time I’m here.”

Aventurine raises his hands in mock surrender. “I’m telling you, darling, you can’t rush art! It’s all about atmosphere.”

“Atmosphere?” you scoff, switching to your native tongue as you get more animated. “More like a mess that you just want me to overlook!”

He smirks, feigning offense. “My ‘mess’ is a masterpiece—unlike someone’s habit of muttering incomprehensibly every time they don’t get their way.” he teases, with that knowing look in his eyes. He’s clearly waiting for you to switch languages again.

You roll your eyes, slipping into your native tongue almost instinctively. “Maybe if you weren’t so infuriatingly full of yourself, I wouldn’t have to mutter at all.”

Aventurine chuckles, his grin only widening. “Full of myself?” he repeats, pushing back just enough to keep the mood light. “Look who’s talking—every time you walk into this room, you practically take over.”

“Take over? Oh, please,” you huff, slipping deeper into your language as you mutter, “if anything, I’m saving this place from turning into a pigsty.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly waiting for the right moment, and finally, you let slip a particularly choice phrase—a cuss word that, in your language, translates a little too directly to “fuck you.”

He seizes the opportunity, his face lighting up with a triumphant grin. “Oh? You’re offering for once?”

The world goes still. You blink at him in shock, the realization dawning as your mind scrambles. He understood you—completely. Your cheeks flush, and before you can help it, you’re sputtering in your native language, tripping over words and trying to make sense of how he even learned it.

Aventurine just stands there, that infuriatingly smug grin plastered across his face, arms crossed in satisfaction. “Surprised?” he drawls, clearly reveling in your stunned reaction. “Turns out you’re not the only one with hidden talents.”

You start freaking out, half-laughing, half-ranting in your language, swearing at him all over again. He just chuckles, standing back and drinking it all in, proud as ever for catching you off guard.

“Oh, please,” he says with a chuckle, “keep going—I’m starting to enjoy these rants.”

You cover your face, torn between embarrassment and laughter, and finally shake your head. “One day, I’m going to get you back for this.”

He leans closer, his voice low and challenging. “I’ll be waiting, darling.”

[poltergirlst]

ah, i wish my english vocabulary were vast so that the horny thoughts that lives on my brazilian portuguese mind would be better articulated 😔

[lizardboiii]

Tongue Tied┃One Piece

[Protective!Dracule Mihawk x Poneglyph Speaking!Reader]

│Summary: Washed up on a gloomy shore, your only solace is a dark an empty castle. Yet, when the castle's only resident finally returns, you are met with an undeniable problem. The language you speak is completely dead to his world.

"Flailing your hands around isn't going to make me understand you any more."

"𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎, 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚗𝚘 𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐!"

・❥・

│cw: 18+, SFW, violent undertones, f!reader, mihawk's eyes, terrible nicknames

│wc: 1.8k

│chapters: I II III

│notes: poneglyph writing/speaking in different font. normal font is any other language as written. enjoy <3

│AO3 Link!

・❥・

│Chapter I: Bird of Prey

Squawking.

Soft and high pitch, the incessant cries of seagulls flooded your ears like a symphony. You groaned audibly at the noise. An action you almost instantly regretted as a sudden rush of frigid sea water seeped into your cracked mouth. 

Hacking up a storm, you were quick to come to your, mostly delirious, senses. You laid sprawled out on a strange gloomy shore. The water, almost too calm for your liking, combined with an eerie fog rolling in from the seemingly endless coastline, felt as if you entered purgatory. 

Stumbling to your soaked feet, you tested your balance. Though your legs wavered slightly, you managed to pull yourself from the water’s surprisingly strong tide. You felt like you might be sucked back out to sea. 

Swallowing nervously, you grimaced at the bitter taste of salt still lathered on your tongue. It was a sickly reminder of your current predicament. You were completely stranded, alone. Clenching your eyes shut, you replayed the moments before the disaster. 

Your rickety fishing boat swayed innocently on the open water, unaware of the massive storm brewing overhead. You had no time to prepare, no time to act, no time to ensure any self-preservation. In the blink of an eye, the sky blackened.

The small white capping waves surrounding you abruptly grew in size and violence. Your small boat stood no chance. The futile struggle to stay right side up only lasted moments. With one final wave, your boat capsized from the continuous abuse.  

Shrieking, your body was thrown into the raging sea like a rag doll. You struggled hard against the current, only managing to break the water’s surface every couple of seconds. 

Eventually, your arms grew too tired, too weak, too heavy. It became more of a struggle to convince yourself to stay afloat than to fight the waves dragging you beneath their depths. Then, the world went dark.

Taking a deep breath, you willed away any more dreadful thoughts. The sooner you could find another spare ship the quicker you could go back home.

Scanning your surroundings, you searched for any ships, abandoned or not. Immediately your eyes caught a shocking scene. Nestled far beyond the shore, a massive crumbling castle towered over the island. You couldn't help but remark how fitting it was.

The discovery did little to encourage you. An abandoned castle meant no life, and no life meant no ships. You threaded your fingers through your hair. How could this get any worse?

The sound of thunder mocked your internal monologue. Groaning loudly, you began your venture towards the lonesome castle in an attempt to escape the rapidly forming storm. 

You managed to reach the half point mark before your skin began to crawl. You couldn't help but feel like something, or someone, was watching you through the underbrush. Though you tried to chalk it up to paranoia, you swore you saw something red glowing within the trees. It was just your luck to be marooned on a haunted island.

Whether it was divine intervention or simply uninterest, you managed to reach the chipped steps of the castle unscathed. Although that didn't stop you from hightailing it inside. 

A closer look inside the fortress told you just how regal it once appeared to be: large stained glass windows, tall decorative pillars, and corridors that seemed to stretch for miles. You were in awe from the moment you entered.

In due time, you found your way to an equally extravagant dining room. The wood of the table was scratched and weathered, but ultimately well taken care of. However, the real centerpiece of the room was a massive chair befitting the end.

The plush seat was adorned with gold trim and a deep red leather. You wondered if someone had lugged it in there from the throne room. Swiping a finger across the armrest, you rubbed your fingers together. A thick layer of dust slowly floated to the ground.

You hummed more so to yourself, “𝙼𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚍.”

Spinning on your heel, you shamelessly plopped yourself down on the gaudy throne. It wouldn't hurt to live in a palace. For a short while at least. You could stay there until you were able to either build another boat or be lucky enough to be rescued.

You smiled, “𝙸𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚊 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚎𝚗.”

・❥・

After a month of trial and error, it seemed like you greatly overestimated your raft crafting capabilities. The trees on the island were far too thick for you to cut down with no ax, and any driftwood washed up on the beach seemed to crumble from even the gentlest touch.

You were starting to wonder if you’d be trapped there forever. 

That was until you ventured out on your daily search for partly salvageable driftwood. Aloft the gentle waves was an all too strange… ship? Raft? Casket? To be honest, you weren’t exactly sure what it was.

There was only thing you knew for sure, the small vessel was currently barreling towards your remote island. You could barely contain your excitement. 

You were going home.

Dropping the withered planks in your hands, you allowed them to shatter against the plush sand before bolting to get closer with the ship. Your eyes remained locked in on the crossed shaped mast that grew ever closer. Its black sails signaling “Freedom”.

Your tunnel vision made you stumble and trip over your own feet as you ran. And when you weren't running - you were crawling. Your hands desperately clawed at the damp sand in order to lift yourself back to your feet. You could not bear to lose your fleeting chance of leaving your island prison.

Eventually, the gothic ship docked. Its black sails were slowly being pulled into bundles when you finally managed to reach it. And reach it you did. 

You met the ship with little discretion. Squabbling and frantic, you made no effort to contain your emotions in front of the ship’s presumed Captain. Manners could wait until your safety was secured.

Thrusting your hands in the air, you made your presence widely known, “𝙴𝚡𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚖𝚎!”

The man before you hesitated slightly before releasing his hold on the black stained linen. Turning his obscured face, you noted the lackluster expression he wore. He seemed neither surprised nor unsurprised, merely…inconvenienced.  

“𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚗𝚘 𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚊 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚢 𝙸 𝚊𝚖 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞,” you laughed awkwardly, “𝙸 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗, 𝙼𝚢 𝙶𝚘𝚍, 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝙸 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎? 𝙰 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚑 𝚋𝚢 𝚗𝚘𝚠!”

The man greeted your pitiful tangent with a stagnant silence. If you hadn't noticed his previous disinterest, you definitely noticed it now. Taking a deep breath, you internally assessed your newly appointed “savior”.

He stood tall, extremely so. He was taller than any man you knew on your home island. You assumed you'd only reach his chest if you stood side by side. However, he certainly did not lack in the muscle department either. He was broad, thick even. You wondered if his shoulders were as firm as they looked.

Gradually, your eyes wandered to an elegantly crafted coat. The dark red of his sleeves were a stark contrast against his unnaturally pale skin which, unsurprisingly, he left on full display. Not that you minded of course.

However, the most striking attribute he bore was his eyes. They shone brighter than any golden jewel found on the Grand Line, rivaling the sun itself. You certain even Helios swooned over his canary colored irises.

Entranced, you allowed yourself to be captivated. The thick black rims surrounding his pupils produced an almost stained glass appearance. All you wanted to do was consume more, read into them like a devout worshiper. It was as if they bore scripture.

You unconsciously shifted forward, trying to get a closer look. That was your first mistake. Abruptly, those very eyes sharpened with hostility, sizing you up like a hawk. It seemed your sudden movement labeled you a threat.

“Who are…”

The temperature felt as if it plummeted. Icy and thick, you didn't need hands around your neck to feel like you were being strangled. You couldn't understand why this was happening, mainly because…

“You?”

You had no idea what he was saying. 

Hands trembling, you stared at the man above you in confusion. You were sure if you did not respond he could, and would, take action. Maybe if you weren't quick enough in answering he’d kidnap you and sell you off for some pocket change. Or worse, he would kill you for just causing him trouble.

You racked your brain for any semblance of a response. What could you have even done to warrant such an intense reaction?

“…𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝,” You swallowed hard, “𝚄𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍?”

The tense atmosphere gave way slightly, releasing its invisible hold on your throat. 

Sighing quietly, the ravenette grumbled to himself, “It seems we don’t speak the same language. How inconvenient.”

Annoyed, the taller man searched your person with his honey laced eyes. Satisfied with his findings, he returned his attention back to his vessel. You pondered if your lack of weapons made you into a problem that could be “dealt with later”.

However, you didn't want to be tossed aside until later. You wanted to return home. And if that meant attempting communication with a hostile vampiric asshole, you'd have to try!

“𝚄𝚖,” You scrambled to the other side of the man's ship in an attempt to regain his attention.

“𝚂𝚒𝚛, 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝!”

Goldy, newly nicknamed, paid you no mind, favoring to strap down his ship without haste. You chewed on the inside of your cheek in frustration.

Shuffling beside him, you implemented drastic measures. However, your hand only managed to move a centimeter towards Goldy’s arm before your wrist was swiftly snatched in a painful grip.

Not wasting a moment of Goldy’s notice, you began frantically pointing at yourself with your free hand, “𝙸!”

You motioned at the ship, “𝙽𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚊𝚝!”

Goldy released his iron grip and stood to his full height, “Stop being troublesome.”

“𝙻𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚗𝚘 𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚊 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝙸 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚊𝚝. 𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗’𝚝 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎!”

The ravenette merely continued to stare at you disinterested. Perhaps he was debating if cutting you down now would be easier than listening to nonsensical ramblings.

Nevertheless, you waved your hands down your body, “𝙼𝚎!” 

You gestured at his ship, “𝙱𝚘𝚊𝚝!”

You clasped your hands together, “𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎!”

"Flailing your hands around isn't going to make me understand you any more."

"𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎, 𝙸 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚗𝚘 𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐!"

Goldy easily ignored your pestering and walked around you, “I don’t have time for this.”

“𝚆𝚊𝚒𝚝!” You ran after his form, “𝙱𝚘𝚊𝚝! 𝙱𝚘𝚊𝚝! 𝙱𝚘𝚊𝚝!”

You followed Goldy with continued pleas. Yet, his long legs persisted across the desolate beach to the hidden pathway located in the tree line.

Your brows furrowed at the observation. It took you a week to find the secret trail that led from the beach straight to the castle. How could he have found it so easily?

You finally fell silent as Goldy traversed the path like the back of his hand. He walked confidently. It was as if he had been on the island before.

A sudden thought crossed your mind. 

Goldy lived here.

・❥・

[ladykissingfish]

Deidara, combing his hair on Sasori's bed while Sasori works on a puppet at his desk: Oi, Danna ... you feel like getting busy? Sasori, not turning around: I AM busy. If you feel the need to expend your energy, perhaps you should stop fooling with your hair and -- Deidara: No, no. I mean, get busy as in fool around a little. Sasori: Fool around? Honestly, brat, you've known me for a good many years now. When have you ever known me to waste my time in idleness and "fool around"? Deidara: *sighs* For a guy who claims to be so smart, there sure is a lot you miss out on, hm. If I was gonna be like Hidan and scream in your face "Hey, old man, wanna fuck?!" would you get it then? Sasori, turning slightly: Oh? You wish to have relations? Well why didn't you just say so, then? Why do you have to use words that don't make any sense?? Deidara: "Have relations"? That's what makes sense to you? God, are you sure you're only thirty-five? Because you talk like you're as old as Kakuzu, hm. Sasori, scornfully: Your generation is just lazy, pure and simple. You have to use crude words like "fuck" instead of putting forth an effort and saying something like, make love, or copulate. Deidara: *groans and throws himself backwards on the bed, putting his arm over his face* What kind of a horrible mood-killer is that, hm?! How much of a turn-on is it for me to say some stupid shit like "Hey Sasori, wanna copulate?" Sasori: Believe it or not, anything can be a "turn on" IF you say it in the right tone. Deidara: *snorts* Yeah, right. Sasori: *turns from his desk, crawls slowly into the bed beside Deidara, and moved Dei's arm from his face* Deidara: What are you -- Sasori, in a very low, deep voice: Deidara: I'm going to drag my teeth from the lobe of your ear to the tip of your toes. I'm going to yank out your veins one by one and then I'm going to take your heart in-between my hands and crush it. I despise you and want to obliterate every single part of you. Deidara: Deidara: I've never felt more turned-on in my life. Fuck you, Sasori.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

i was wondering if you had any tips for writing a story that involved a language barrier. would i write mostly action? would it be less interesting without dialogue? thank you!!

Writing Notes: Language Barrier

Language Barriers. If you work in an industry that is heavy in jargon or technical language, care should be taken to avoid these words when speaking with someone from outside the industry. Without being patronizing, imagine explaining a situation in your industry to a child. How would you convey these concepts without relying on jargon? A clear, direct narrative is preferable to an incomprehensible slew of specialty terms.

EXAMPLES of language barriers that prevent individuals from effective communication include:

Dialects - While two people may technically speak the same language, dialectal differences can make communication between them difficult. Examples of dialectical language barriers exist worldwide. Chinese, for example, has a variety of dialects that are commonly spoken, including Cantonese and Mandarin.

Language Disabilities - Language disabilities are physical impediments to language. Physical language disabilities that cause language barriers include stuttering, dysphonia or an articulation disorder and hearing loss.

To overcome language barriers, here are a few things you can do:

Translate all relevant documents into the person's primary language.

Use an interpreter whenever you give instructions or provide feedback.

Provide language classes.

Use both telling and showing methods.

Use visual methods of communication more than audio. Show more than tell. Explain with pictures as much as possible.

Use repetition. As with any new concept, most people don't learn something the first time they hear it.

Never raise your voice or over-enunciate your words. Talk slower, not louder. Speak clearly, not forcefully. People of a different language and culture can hear fine.

Use simpler words with fewer syllables. Be aware of the complexities of your words. Use more common words that convey your message in simpler terms. Don't talk down; just use a less complex vocabulary.

Learn the basics of their language. If you want to communicate effectively and build rapport, consider learning a few words and phrases in their language.

Have them demonstrate their understanding. Don't assume they immediately understand; check for understanding.

You can also read anecdotes of people's experience with language barriers to help guide your writing. Here's an example.

Sources: 1 2 ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

Choose which of these notes apply to the specific scene you are writing. Are the characters actually trying to communicate despite the barrier? Consider the purpose of your scene. They could use nonverbal cues instead of speaking. When we see people who don't speak the same language interact, sometimes they still continue to speak their own language whilst miming or gesturing to try to communicate what they mean even though they know the other person can't understand what they're saying. You can definitely still make it interesting. Will you make the scene more humorous? Will the scene end in a misunderstanding, an argument, or will they eventually communicate successfully? Perhaps something in their culture overlaps that helps them understand each other. Or will there be another character (or characters) who will step in and help them? Hope this helps with your writing!

[bloggingboutburgers]

Conversation with a coworker from a bit ago that won't leave my head

…And yeah I do get the irony of translating this conversation into English so y'all will understand, it's part of the joke I guess

[techfan450]

I created a monster. I showed a kid i babysit Star Trek TOS, and now he talks like Spock. Instead of saying "yes" he says "indeed". After we played catch he lowkey looked up at me and said "i require hydratation". Now his parents are looking at me weird.