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archonsbane · 1 year

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AND I TRY TO TALK REFINED

The one time Il Dottore speaks to you in another language, the one time he speaks to someone else in another language, and the one time you give him a taste of his own medicine.

pairing. dottore x reader

tags & content warnings. gn!reader. reader is the tsaritsa's child. reader is referred to by they/them. there's one (1) mildly suggestive sentence (and it's in a different language lol).

word count. 2.9k

author's note. so. i'm back from the dead. i have two fics for pantalone and one for diluc, around 8k+ words. (none of them are finished LMFAO) but of course i drop everything for this stupid ass man. the reader here is my tsaritsa’schild!reader, though this takes place before beauty is terror. this is set in the early days of their relationship and the start of dottore’s involvement in the fatui. reader's backstory is also implied here, but not outright stated. also i got inspiration from @fatuismooches lovely headcanons, though i strayed a bit far HAHA. thank you for letting me write this! and thank you to my two lovely delulu friends (you know who you are) bc i suddenly got into the mood to write because of them. also, what is heavily implied to be the script of khaenri'ah in-game is based on latin, so i headcanon that latin is the language of khaenri'ah. also i had to sneak in a tsh reference lmfao it was too perfect not to. i promise i don't include it in all my fics it just so happens to be perfect for certain situations huhu. also i hope you guys catch all the little details i put in! reader and dottore have always been like this lol the title is from 'talk' by hozier.

You are undoubtedly the worst teacher Dottore has ever had, bar none.

Flighty, distracted, and prone to seamlessly maneuvering to an entirely different topic without blinking an eye, leaving him dumbfounded. Your teaching sessions, if they could be called that, are filled with constant interrogations of his life and large infusions of food. Half the time you aren’t even teaching him, you’re simply rambling about whatever it is you ramble about (he’s learned to tune you out, partly because he doesn’t care and partly because he can’t understand what you’re saying). He is truly reconsidering forgoing learning Snezhnayan — at the pace you're going, he might as well take his chances and learn by himself.

“But Mother said,” you remind him, petulantly, like a small child. Yes, the Tsaritsa commanded him to learn Snezhnayan, and commanded you to teach him, but he is greatly tempted to ask her to send another teacher. It has only been two weeks since your lessons begun and he might truly go mad. Sometimes he thinks this might be the worst thing a divine being has ever inflicted on him.

In truth, he already knows Snezhnayan, but only enough to hold a polite conversation. It is his least favorite of the languages he learned from his teachers in the Akademiya, and anyway, he never quite had a deftness for tongues. He is always most at home working with his hands, destroying and creating physical matter, covered in dust and soot, cracking open the world’s secrets like an egg. But the Tsartisa willed him to learn, and he is nothing if not a scholar.

“But Mother said,” he mocks, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. He’s learned that you have no convictions about his personality. If anything, you seemed to embrace it. Whereas he dons a respectful — as respectful as he can conjure, anyways — mask with the Jester and the Tsaritsa, it’s… looser, with you. Still, he is careful not to cross the line. He is only allowed this because he amuses you. You've been treating him like some sort of pet to be played with whenever you desire since his coming here. “Your mother also said to teach me how to speak Snezhnayan, but this is the third time you’ve called for snacks in three hours.”

You flash a lazy glare at him and go back to eating your beloved pastilas. “You require a tremendous amount of effort to teach.” You’ve switched back to speaking the common tongue, obviously for his sake. “You’re a horrible student.”

“You’re a horrible teacher!”

You sniff and take another bite of your pastry. “You’re just really bad at learning.”

For that, you get a glance heavenward. He is tempted to simply throttle you and be done with it. Treason seems like a fair price to pay for shutting you up. But he considers his options and decides that he would rather not be on the receiving end of your mother’s wrath — it’s too fucking cold here already. Still, greatly offended by this statement, he vents out his anger by cursing at you.

In the language of Sumeru.

He does not really think of it; his use of his mother tongue has greatly decreased since coming here, but even then, it simply rolls off his tongue as naturally as water flows from a river's mouth.

Your brows shoot up. You open your mouth, pause, and for a moment he fears he is in danger of being exiled or thrown in the dungeon. But then you cock your head to the side. “What does that mean?” You ask.

An idea unravels in his mind, sparkling with mischief. “It means you’re bad at teaching.”

You frown. “For some reason, I feel like you’re lying.”

He curses at you again. Your frown deepens. There is something so satisfying about the way those frustrated lines burrow into your face. When he does it a third time, you actually put down the pastila.

“What does it mean?” You demand. “You aren’t saying anything bad, are you?”

It means you’re an insufferable little bastard of mean intelligence and he hopes you fall into a ditch, so yes, he definitely is saying something bad. “It means you’re the most gorgeous, most wonderful person in the world,” he says, sarcasm dripping from the syllables. When you look genuinely taken aback, he lets out a cruel, derisive scoff. “It means you should trust me more.”

“That seems like a horrible idea.”

He shrugs and reaches over to take one of the pastilas, light pink with a white, foamy top, vaguely aware that another one of your language lessons has gone considerably off course. Perhaps that was too light a description. It shot in one direction and came speeding back the other way. “Suit yourself, Your Imperial Highness.”

You smack his hand away, gently. Almost too gently. “Those are mine.”

He eats it, anyway, and learns many new colorful Snezhnayan curses for it, though he detects no real annoyance in your voice. You ring for another batch of desserts. He counts it as a successful lesson.

He continues speaking in Sumerian when you're near. It’s the greatest of treasures, seeing you frown and demand to know what he had just uttered in your presence. Sometimes he just says the first phrase that enters his head, most times he insults you and relishes in your clueless blinking. You can't do the same to him — he's been picking up on Snezhnayan at an exponential pace, and he's made sure to memorize all of the insults and swears first. Obviously. It’s his talent for machinations that he prides himself on, but lately, he’s been deriving vicious pleasure from the fact he can speak twenty languages, though it never mattered much to him before. It’s a good, safe outlet for his annoyance whenever you’re near, which you seem to always be, nowadays.

Even outside the language ‘lessons’ (the word lessons being used extremely lightly) you seem to trail him wherever he goes. Ambushing him in the halls, materializing in the laboratory, and in general trailing him like some attention-starved puppy. He resents it, resents the stars that float through your eyes whenever he enters your view, resents the way you immediately disengage from whatever it was that you were doing to attach yourself to him, all smiles.

He actively avoids you, but somehow you keep running into him. On purpose or accidentally, he has no idea. He suspects it is the former.

Today is one of those days. You’re by his side, again, chatting happily about… something. He’s trying to tune you out, focusing on the long walk back to his laboratories after a meeting with the Tsaritsa. He needs to do something about that, it’s woefully inconvenient to have to walk a mile every time she calls on him. Some sort of contraption that could go up and down easily would be of great use, and he wouldn’t have to climb so many fucking stairs.

Then — it happens. In your excitement, you bump into some government official accompanied by another, what his role is Dottore does not know and does not care to, but he must be quite high up if he allows himself to glare at you for an instant before it disappears into a cool stare. Or maybe he just has a lot of gall.

"Oh, my apologies sir," you murmur, ducking your head.

"Quite alright, Your Highness," he says smoothly, "have a good day." He turns his back and starts to mutter to his companion, their heads bent together, completely unaware that with your godly senses and his recent enhancements to his body, you both can hear every word.

"How clumsy," the first man tuts, "what does their mother teach them? She's been too soft on them."

"She lets them run amok doing whatever they please. The other day, they—"

"—yes, I heard. Look at those clothes, aren't they too plain for the heir?"

His companion makes an agreeing noise. "And the company they keep… "

Dottore doesn't particularly care about what other people think of him, and perhaps if it was only the last sentence that had been uttered he wouldn't have said a word, but the tirade of their complaints makes irritation, absurdly, flare inside him. He whips his head back to their retreating figures, and you throw him a glaring warning, so he clenches his jaw and stays where he is. He isn't one to do nothing, however.

“Kol khara,” he says to them, viciously. Eat shit. He hears you stifle a sound that might be a laugh and briefly wonders why exactly you would laugh.

The men turn back around. “Excuse me?” The first one says.

“Nothing,” he says, curtly, his eyes like sharp daggers, “go on." They throw each other confused glances but say nothing further, going further down the hall until he can no longer see their backs. You both stay in the middle of the now-empty hallway, staring silently off into the distance.

You’ve never been able to contain your curiosity for long. After a good minute of silence, you turn inquisitive eyes on him. He’s been expecting your question.

"What did you say?" You ask.

He shrugs; makes a dismissive gesture with his hand. "Nothing."

You narrow your eyes. "I know it isn't nothing. It was something bad, right? You've said it to me before.” Clever you, he thinks briefly. Nothing gets past you. When he stays enclosed in icy silence, you press on further, “I won’t be mad. It doesn’t bother me — I think it’s funny. Just tell me.” He has no idea why you would ever think it’s funny. Nonetheless, he stays silent.

You try again. “Tell me.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Tell me,” you say again, but this time you slip into the voice of the noble, unshakeable heir to Winter. The two words are a command, and they leave no room for argument. He must follow.

He sighs and runs a hand down his face. “It means I want them to eat shit.”

A moment of silence passes and Dottore wonders if he should start running. Then, you start to laugh. A small laugh, so small he almost thinks he could cup it in his hands and never let it go. But he recognizes it as different from the laughs you’ve given him before. This one is warm and sweet, conjured from the belly upwards. Summer in a sound.

He tries very hard not to smile when he says, “you aren’t mad?”

“No,” you say, still laughing, “I suppose I do deserve it.” He silently agrees. “Anyways, after coming to my defense, I forgive you.”

He snarls, that sudden irritation reviving itself. “I wasn’t coming to your defense.”

You shrug, not looking bothered at all. “Fine. Defending yourself and by extension — and complete coincidence — me.”

He decides it is best not to argue, and listens quietly as you walk with him back to his laboratory, chatting happily away once more. If you notice that over the next few days, his outbursts toward you decrease, you say nothing of it. And if you notice he is insulting other people more in other languages, seemingly for the sole purpose of making you laugh, you say nothing of it, too.

You’re speaking Sumerian.

Fluent Sumerian. Rapid-fire Sumerian, without blinking or stumbling over your words. Clean, pure Sumerian, speaking everything with the perfect enunciation of a noble. You don’t notice him behind you, utterly bemused, as you speak to a foreign dignitary from his homeland. The First drags him out of the underground labs from time to time in order to socialize and familiarize himself with the political atmosphere, but Dottore lets you do all the work for him. You engage in polite small talk, though delivered with much more enthusiasm than necessary. But the words are barely intelligible in his head. It isn’t possible that you’ve learned how to speak fluent Sumerian in such a short about of time. He will begrudgingly admit your brightness, small as it is, but even he cannot master a language within a few months. Which means there must only be one conclusion.

When you notice him, your face morphs into one of surprised panic. Oh. He’s sure his fury is plain to see. It’s at that precise moment the dignitary — Dottore does not see the point in blessings but, Archons bless her — chooses to excuse herself, leaving you open and without a proper excuse to escape with.

“You can speak Sumerian,” he says, plainly, having immediately taken the empty spot at your side. You take cautious, half-step backwards.

You look both amused and slightly abashed.

He grits his teeth. “For how long?”

“... since I was five." A pause. You look thoughtful. "Actually, it was your Greater Lord Rukkhadevata who first taught me."

This new piece of information surprises him so much that the flames of his anger are snuffed out, if only for a second. Then they come back raging, and he cannot contain it.

"You knew what I was saying this entire time!" He rages, jabbing an accusing finger at you. You cringe away. "You could understand all of it!"

"Not all of it—" When you see the exasperation that crosses his face, you smile. "Alright. Most of it."

You begin to walk away, but he furiously follows you. "You lied to me!"

"You were cursing me to my face. I think it's a fair exchange." You shrug with one shoulder, eyes sparkling with mischief. "It was funny, anyway. Your cluelessness, that is." And then, "you should know, now that you know — I can speak the main languages of each nation."

"I can too," he says haughtily, raising his chin up at you.

"Really?" You laugh. "Cubitum eamus?"

"What?"

"Nothing."

"What does that mean?" He demands, only half aware he's repeating the interaction you once had over a plate of pink and white sweets. He's never heard a language sounding quite like that. Perhaps it could be a dialect, but it doesn't sound similar to any currently existing language. "What language is that?"

You deliver your coup de grâce with such smooth smugness on your face. "It's Khaenri'ahn." The dead language.

He blinks. Opens his mouth dumbly. And lunges.

As he chases you through the halls, your laughter floats warm and clear in the frigid winter air. You easily outpace him, but perhaps out of pity, you let him catch you and drag you to — well, he doesn't exactly know where he's going, only that he does not want to let you escape his rage. You thrash in his arms like a trapped animal, still controlled by a laughing fit all the while.

"I hate you," he grumbles later, when you've calmed him with a slice of strawberry cheesecake from the kitchens. He's still quite angry, but not angry enough to not accept your peace offering. "You're horrible."

"So are you."

A pause, then, "Teach me Khaenri'ahn," he says, leaning forward, a bright idea sparking in his chest. "There's so many texts I have yet to decipher — you have no idea the knowledge I can grasp if you teach me." He thinks of the old Ruin Golems in Sumeru. How hard it was to learn how to control them! But with your help, with your knowledge, he could crack the world open like an egg and watch its secrets spill like yolk.

"I thought I was a bad teacher."

"Bad is better than none at all."

The utterly offended look that flashes on your face teases a grin from his mouth. "You're horrible."

"So are you."

He thinks he sees the corner of your mouth involuntarily curl upward. You twirl your fork in your fingers, humming thoughtfully. "Why should I?"

"... For the pleasure of contributing to my research?" The look you give him tells him you're not at all convinced. He continues, "My research that is so very essential to the success of this nation?"

You scoff, but you cannot deny it. He would not be alive if he wasn't useful to Snezhnaya.

"You'll owe me," you tell him.

He shrugs. "There's worse things in the world. Let's start."

It startles you somewhat. "What, now?"

"Yes, now. Unless you have other things to do?"

You don't. Your language lessons with him already ended when he reached an acceptable mastery over Snezhnayan according to your mother, and he knows that though you have a schedule (mysterious and utterly incomprehensible though it is — not even he has been able to figure it out), you'd drop everything in an instant if something else interests you. Your other engagements are often boring things, too, and the only duty you ever truly commit to are the strange missions your mother sends you on, ones that could go for months on end. He's fairly certain you'll acquiesce to his request.

You pretend to consider it, before shrugging with hardwon carelessness and saying, "Fine."

You're exactly the same. Flighty, distracted, and prone to seamlessly maneuvering to an entirely different topic without blinking an eye. Half the cheesecake is eaten before you even start on the alphabet, and the journey to that is filled with endless detours that consist of bickering, fighting over the (large) cake, and kicking each other like children under his work table. His intelligence is insulted more times in half an hour than in his entire years of study at the Akademiya.

Dottore decides, with solid determination, after eating the last slice of cake, finally learning the pronunciation of the vowels and consonants, and being on the receiving end of an onslaught of Khaeri’ahn curses he truly cannot understand — which is horribly ironic considering the past few weeks — that he might as well beg the Jester for lessons instead, and no one can do a damn thing about it. He tells this to you, chin up, resolute and unwavering in his declaration.

He never does get around to doing that.

#— ficlets.#genshin imapct #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin imagines #genshin fluff #dottore #il dottore #dottore x reader #il dottore x reader #fatui x reader #the cubitum eamus question is a reference to the secret history for those who don't know #reader is asking dottore to sleep with them lmfao #also the full lyric for the title is #'so I'll try to talk refined for fear that you find out how i'm imaginin' you'#so that's something :))

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katakaluptastrophy · 4 months

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What do Captain Deuteros, the Princesses of Ida, the Baron of Tisis, the Lady of Koniortos Court, the Duchess of Rhodes, the Master Templar, and the Reverend Daughter all have in common? They almost certainly own slaves.

Ok, not "slaves". As I'm sure Housers would be the first to tell you, they do not have slaves. Gideon herself explicitly establishes this in chapter one:

I’m indentured, not a slave.

But functionally, what does that mean?

We don't get a definition of what Gideon means by a slave, or how this word is used in House (do the Houses also have slaves? Are slaves something other, uncivilised people have in the benighted darkness beyond the light of Dominicus and the empire?). Gideon is an unfree person who is subject to violence and exploited for the financial gain of her masters, but it means something to her that she is not, in some economic or legal sense, a slave. So what is an indentured servant?

Gideon's status is referred to using several other terms over the course of GTN, primarily by Silas Octakiseron. While Silas is not an unbiased commentator, it's interesting that his objection to Gideon is not just because she's Ninth, but because she has usurped her social position:

“Thrall,” said Silas. “Serf. Servant... Villein,” continued the necromancer of the house of the Eighth, warming to his thesaurus. Colum was staring at Gideon, almost cross-eyed with disbelief. “Foundling. I am not insulting you, I am naming you for what you are. The replacement for Ortus Nigenad, himself a poor representative of a foetid House of betrayers and mystics.”

We don't know the exact connotations of these words in House. But a "serf" historically was a sort of feudal peasant tied to the land of a manor. Unlike a slave, a serf usually couldn't be bought or sold as an individual, but could be transferred wholesale with the land. Generically speaking, serfdom involves a tie to the land, an obligation to generate income/goods for the feudal lord of the land through labour and/or rents, and a lack of freedom of movement. It could be from birth or a voluntary indenture.

The contextual information that we get about Gideon's status backs up this very feudal image:

Gideon is, as Crux repeatedly reminds her, in some way the property of the Ninth. She wears a security cuff, and her attempt to run away is described as theft and misuse of House goods. In a typically House way, it is not just that she owes them her labour - she owes them her body once she dies. (What's interesting is that this part isn't specifically tied to her status as an indentured servant, but it fundamentally colours how it is understood in world.)

"You talk so loudly for chattle, Nav... You chatter so much for a debt. I hate you, and yet you are my wares and inventory."

Crux is Harrow's seneschal. And it would seem that at least on the Ninth, this role is very much the same as its medieval feudal equivalent: the official in charge of the management of the estate's goods and labourers.

Gideon is a legitimate subject of violence in House law: Harrow talks about how it would be "master's sin" if she "employed unwarranted violence" against her. Which means that some degree of violent punishment of indentured servants is legally permissable.

She is meant to be a financially useful asset: regulations exist governing indentured people joining the military, where they can generate revenue for their House. However, Harrow warns Gideon that "the Cohort won’t enlist an unreleased serf" - because the movement of a serf is at the discretion of her Lady, not something over which she has free choice.

The description of how Gideon came to be of the Ninth is particularly interesting in shedding some light on the institution of indenture in the Houses:

The Ninth had historically filled its halls with penitents from other houses, mystics and pilgrims who found the call of this dreary order more attractive than their own birthrights. In the antiquated rules of those supplicants who moved between the eight great households, she was taken as a very small bondswoman, not of the Ninth but beholden to it: What greater debt could be accrued than that of being brought up?

Medieval serfs too had no freedom of movement; they required a license from their lord to spend extended time away from the manor.

It's easy to forget, when the Houses themselves likely range in scale from the size of Los Angeles to Aotearoa New Zealand, that legally they seem to understand themselves to constitute feudal households. Those born in each House are part of - or in some cases it would seem, property of - the House. We see discussion in the Sermon on Necromancers and Cavaliers of the heirs of cavalier lines being traded between Houses for political capital. Necromancers, meanwhile, are apparently such a political or reproductive asset that they are usually not allowed to marry outside their House. Obviously, these are examples of people at the top of House society, whose movement brings with it political power, or financial assets, or reproductive capacity. Where does that leave a more ordinary person who lacks those desirable assets? It would seem that they can be their own asset, granted access to another House on a debtor's bond - it's not clear in the House context whether this is typically an exchange of people already debt bonded to their House, free people entering into such bondage to secure a right of passage to another House, a combination, or something else entirely.

But it speaks to a much more ancient understanding of how people are tied to lands and lords, alongside the Houses' very different attitude to the value of human lives:

“You’re no slave, but you’ll serve the House of the Ninth until the day you die and then thereafter"

One could infer, since we've encountered nobles and serfs, that the Houses have something akin to a three-tier system like many historical European feudal systems, with nobles, freedmen, and serfs.

The medieval European feudal system was primarily a function of the management of land - serfs and freedmen's statuses were a result of their relationship to obligations to the land - requirements of work, or rents to their lord, who ultimately controlled and profited from that land. This is where the tricky difference between serfdom and slavery tends to arise.

But the Houses are not a European medieval feudal kingdom. They are not, presumably, a primarily agrarian economy. So what use might such bondspeople be? What does that society look like, outside of its highest nobles investigating each others' murders and its strangely incestuous demigods?

There must be some agriculture and industry. Given the trying conditions of living in inhospitable space environments, that there might be some class of labourers fundamentally tied to their Houses, perhaps initially stemming from the order or situation of their ancestors' resurrection, isn't impossible to imagine (after all, ruling families and cavalier lines also trace their status from the Resurrection). From the information about the rules governing movement between Houses, perhaps there are also people living in dire conditions on remote moons willing to sell their freedom for a chance at slightly better conditions, or a new start in a different House. Most Houses do not have the necromantic capacity to create skeleton constructs on a scale to manage most of their labour - in The Mysterious Study of Dr Sex, it's clear that the Sixth has a finite supply of skeleton constructs that they would require Ninth input to overhaul. We have to assume most labour on most Houses in human, and some portion of it at least in some way unfree.

But the Houses are a spacefaring society with a large, centralised military and an economically complex empire. It does not function entirely like a medieval kingdom, however much it may sometimes look like one. Much of its imperial structure seems to be on a much more 19th or 20th century model.

And the Cohort is one area where we can see some non-medieval, but awful implications to the Houses' practice of serfdom. Consider the commission that Harrow offers Gideon:

It purchased Gideon Nav’s commission to second lieutenant, not privy to resale, but relinquishing capital if she honourably retired. It would grant her full officer training. The usual huge percentage of prizes and territory would be tithed to her House if they were won, but her inflated Ninth serfdom would be paid for in five years on good conditions, rather than thirty.

Gideon is not being promised as canon fodder - this is a promise of officer training. And yet, Gideon is a serf - and that officer training would be an investment in financial returns from her involvement in the bloody machinery of empire.

How many people in the Cohort are not free? Are serfs released from their usual obligations in the House to which they are debt bonded to instead generate income for their House on the battlefield or die trying? What proportion of the Cohort are functionality enslaved children, sold a dream of glory by smutty comics and released by their Houses because their eventual deaths will be more profitable to their Houses than their labouring lives?

And fundamentally, if the Houses are in some way substantially reproducing aspects of medieval feudalism, there's only one person who can be responsible for that...

#the locked tomb #tlt meta #The interesting question is whether this applies in the same way to the Sixth #Who from things like the mention of the duty rota in Dr Sex seem to possibly have a slightly more democratised aspect to labour #But this is the Nine Houses so never fear #I'm sure the allocation and outworking of labour in the Sixth House is full of horrors even if it is technically slave-free

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pinkd3mon · 1 year

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Ado my beloved

#kirby #kots #kirby of the stars #kirby fanart #hoshi no kirby #adeleine #ado kirby #im very fond of her original design #my design is a mix from both #i love her she's very silly #now that the series is going full speed ahead on the ancients lore i wonder if Ado will be more involved #what is she even doing here how did she get here #she's supposed to be extinct #do you think Magolor had a heart attack when he saw her #and wanted to question her but Dedede immediately stopped him because that's his daughter #I'm very fond of the kirby 64 squad in general #also yes the Elfilin part is them having a flashback because that's their tormentor #and here we are!

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sleep-nurse · 5 months

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after 3 centuries i finally managed to properly redesign my dumbass sona, i was gonna initially just change their hair for a more androgynous look but then i. changed their lore a bit too

basically they volunteer for various jobs like delivering mail and milk, nursing and gardening (even though that's also their hobby)

no one knows their gender or their real name but they go by various plant/nature related names (like willow or sunflower)

#tenka willow #<- that's their full name i guess even tho willow isn't their real one #some people only know their last name (tenka)#my sona #my art #GUESS MY BIGGEST KIN RIGHT NOW!!!!!!!!!!!! /j #no but fr i. kinda fell out of himawari's design because she looked too girly for me #ever since i started questioning my gender and then came out as agender #also willow goes by any pronouns but primarily he/they #and they're an anxious wreck. his fingers turn cold and dead when they're nervous just like me fr #now when will i change my pfp? idk #also idk if they're gonna be a full robot but i'm keeping the wind-up key because i love it

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sskk-manifesto · 2 months

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Bungou Stray Dogs: Dead Apple and how “ability users” (opposite to “normal people”) learning to accept themselves through the acceptance of their own abilities is a queer metaphor of acceptance of own's sexual orientation and gender: an essay by me

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #About: Dead Apple. Watched this a while ago with a friend and it was a lot of fun!!!#If you're reading this: thank you so much for hanging out with me I had such a good time (ㅅ´ ˘ )♡#Next to general considerations: wow they were right that Bungou Stray Dogs movie sure can Bungou Stray Dogs #It's always nice to see the detailed animation and elaborate backgrounds of movies. The animation quality compared to the manga is–#definitely noticeable and it's nice to see. That said... I still like the season 2 art style more? And I'm speaking strictly of art style.#The s2 one looks more soft and smooth while the da one is so much more rough.#The plot is... Very bsd-esque I don't think there's anything to add.#In my opinion Kyouka's arc is the one that turned out best tbh. I really like her narrative development and personal growth in this movie.#I like the complexity of her state of mind. how full of contradiction she is. I especially appreciate the recurring small changes of–#expression that indicate how she thinks differently from Atsushi even if she doesn't voice them. The fight between her cynicism and her–#kind nature. It's all very interesting.#Atsushi's development is interesting too. Although all the open questions about his ability we still have kind of leave me frustrated #I don't feel very strongly about Akutagawa in this movie? I mean‚ he's there. The ss/kk scenes are always great and in character and a joy–#to witness no matter what they do. He just doesn't shine particularly? Or at least personally I dont find the “proving my strength against–#myself” narrative arc to be particularly interesting. Imo it was a lot better flashed out in the da stage play! With the complexity that–#the dialogues with Chuuya added to the character. Dazai attacking him. And especially Aktgw understanding that Rashomon wasn't testing Aktg #but rather only expressing that unstoppable rage that is also Aktgw's own. About that I checked out the play and I really liked it!!#I only watched highlights (aka: ss/kk and chuu/aku scenes) but there's some stuff I really like. I like the conflict between Aktgw and–#Chuuya and how Chuuya messes up with Aktgw at first maliciously and then amiably. It's interesting how Atsushi himself observes that Kyouka #and Akutagawa get along. And especially the sskk almost-handholding and Atsushi saying Akutagawa has a nice profile were cute akjdhbsawhjb #Next. Da really is shipping paradise (╥﹏╥) Sorry but... It is. oda/zai. daz/atsu. ss/kk. s/kk. fuku/mori. chuu/aku. It really has everythin #and the moments are so good!!!! What else. Wish we'd see more of Tsujimura. And Christie. And women in general tbh.#Also‚‚‚‚‚ Atsushi's tiger form in this movie is ATROCIOUS. I've said it before but it's crazy how a franchises that relies so heavily on–#fanservice came up with something this hideous. Man the movie overall was pretty but Atsushi sure wasn't. Firmly stand by the belief–#that only Akutagawa would find that form attractive.#Oh last note. honestly if we're ready to accept a movie where an antidote has effect AFTER the person has effectively died then we really–#can't complain about any kind of insanity the manga brings up #random rambles

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stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale · 6 months

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What can I say? They're my favorite.

#twdg #twdg clouis #clouis #twdg clementine #twdg louis #sometimes they creep back into my mind and i'm like 'ah yes' like a crow admiring a pretty stone they found years ago and kept #also thank you pi for the screenshots. i used to have a whole folder full of them but that was when i was doing themed nights #the source for these is me i just have a random document full of dynamics and ship things i enjoy because.....i dunno i like keeping track #and so many of them apply to clouis but there's also an overlap of with clouis and rose/alistair [my warden from origins and alistair] like #alistair's romance route is like an evolved matured and extended version of clouis sksksks gee i wonder if i have a type #look you present me with a character who deflects with humor and isn't taken seriously by the rest of the group and the longer you know the #the more you realize how high they've built a wall around themselves and how *unwell* they really are and how they're not as sunshine #as they present themselves and also they avoid leadership and responsibility until they grow closer with someone who pushes them #and they end stronger and more balanced as a person while finding the affection they've craved #and also there's the daddy issues #present me with that character as a romantic option and i'm in no questions asked okay i don't want the mean broody one that's meh to me #i want the one that has every reason to be broody but chooses not to be because they have a completely different defense mechanism #and a warped sense of themselves and self-esteem issues they leave unaddressed until forced to face them #i'm just saying i'm aware that i have a type i'm always going to gravitate toward clouis nearly checks all the boxes #also the lack of clouis these days? my crops are thirsty and i have too many ongoing projects to do anything about it other than this sksks #so until i make time to finish my long ass louis/clouis analysis this is the best i can provide for now

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sysig · 9 months

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Puts the “plates” in “Fellplates” (Patreon)

#Doodles #Handplates #UT #Fellplates #Gaster #Papyrus #Hurt Gaster! Do it! Maybe classic will get a shiver down the infiniteness of the multiverse!#I wonder if he'd actually do it to himself or if he'd get it put on him by someone else for the full dramatic twist haha #Who even would? Asgore from sheer force? Alphys?? Idk lol #It's just the irony for me for now ♪#Although to completely cover them there'd have to be four rather than two :0 Hmm #Alphys' gift of fingerless gloves was a lot less invasive hm ♪ But that's part of the fun #I don't mean to keep doing crossovers - quite anyway lol - but hmm could that be 2-P from Fellplates with so much empathy in his eyes?#I guess it's the question of if Monsters Are or if they are Made ♪ Personally I'm partial to the latter but I do still fall into the former #Well either way - the important part is a Papyrus that doesn't like what he sees! He knows how much those hurt first (or 2nd? pfft) hand #And then just some errant thoughts about the Lost Soul head style and Gaster's void scars - give 'em to this version why not #Does any Gaster remain unscathed? Would he even be Gaster in that case? :)#A smile behind the white glow and tired eyes ringed by dark scars ♪ Fellplates is fun because he always looks good when he's suffering #The void smoke is still quite fun to draw hehe

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bonefall · 10 months

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So, I'm writing an essay on the whole STATE of misogyny in WC for one of my university classes, and I was wondering if I could ask you a couple of things! No pressure of course, please feel free to say no!

A) Could I reference your good takes with appropriate harvard referencing and links back to your blog?

B) Are there any specific moments from the books that you think should be covered the most?

C) The end result will be a visual essay, so it's like those fun infographics people on Tumblr make on like ADHD and stuff, so when it's done, would you like to be tagged to read it?

(Sorry for anon, I'm nervous lmao, but if you'd be more comfortable I'll resend this off anon)

AAY good topic! You've got a lot to work with. Absolutely feel free to reference anything I've written, and tag me when you're done.

While you're here and about to write something so legitimate, I'm also going to recommend you check out Sunnyfall's video on gender in Warrior Cats. She breaks down the arcs into numbers, directly comparing the amount of lines mollies have to toms, and examining the archetypes women are usually allowed to be.

I think it's a must-have citation in a paper about WC misogyny.

...and, I think it's insightful to look at the WCRP Forum thread about the video. Note how the respondents immediately come into the thread to complain about how the video is too long so they didn't watch it, dismissing Sunnyfall as not being entertaining enough to hold their attention, even whining that she starts with statistics to prove her point, which I'm convinced she did exactly because they would have cried that she "had no evidence" if she didn't.

I am not a scholar, so I don't know how to document or prove that the books have an impact on the audience outside of anecdotes. But I think if you do write a section about fandom, it would be worth mentioning the in-universe and metatextual apologia for Ashfur and its reflection in the real world discourse, the authorial killing of Ferncloud because of fan complains, and the utter defensiveness against the discussion of misogyny you see outside of Tumblr.

You may also want to check out Cheek by Jowl, a collection of 8 essays about sexism in xenofiction by Ursula K. Le Guin. There's a very unique manifestation of authorial bias in animal fiction, having a lot to do with how the author views "the natural world," and it's worth understanding even though Warrior Cats are so heavily anthropomorphized.

So... Warrior Cats Misogyny

I think discussing individual instances can be helpful, but I'd implore you to keep in mind what's REALLY bad about WC's misogyny is framing and the bigger picture.

Bumble's death is shocking and insulting, but it's not just that she died. It's that the POV Gray Wing sees her as a fat, useless bitch who took his mate so she deserves to be dragged back to a domestic abuser, and he's right because the writers love him so much. It's that Bumble's torture and killing only factors into how it's going to hurt a man's reputation.

It's how Clear Sky hitting, emotionally manipulating, or killing the following women,

Bright Stream (pressured into leaving her home and family)

Storm (controlled her movements and yelled at her in public)

Misty (killed for land, children stolen)

Bumble (beaten unconscious, blamed nonsensically on a fox)

Alder (child abuse, hit when she refused to attack her brother)

Falling Feather (scratched on the face, subjected to public abuse and humiliation)

Tall Shadow (thrown into murderous crowd, attacked on-sight in heaven)

Rainswept Flower ("blacked out" in anger and murdered in cold blood)

Moth Flight (scratched on the face for saying denying medical treatment is mean, taken hostage in retaliation against mother for the death of his own child, which he caused)

Willow Tail (eyes gouged out for "stirring up trouble")

Is seen as totally understandable, forgivable, or not even questioned at all, when killing Gray Wing in an act of rage would have been "one step too far" with the ridiculous Star Line.

"Kill me and live with the memory, and then let the stars know it would only matter if a single one of your murder victims was a man."

It's the way that fathers who physically abuse their kids out of their ego (Clear Sky, Sandgorse, Crowfeather) aren't treated anywhere near the same level of narrative disgust and revulsion the series has for "bad moms", even if they're displaying symptoms of a post-partum mood disorder (depression, anxiety, and rage), an umbrella of mental illnesses 20% of all new mothers experience but are heavily stigmatized with (Sparkpelt, Palebird, Lizardstripe).

It's Crookedstar's Promise giving him two evil maternal figures in a single book, while bending over backwards to make every man in a position of power still look likeable in spite of the fact they're enabling Rainflower's abuse. Leader Hailstar is soso sorry that he has to change Stormkit's name for some reason, in spite of leaders being unaccountable dictators the other 99% of the time, and Deputy Shellheart functionally does nothing to stop his own son from being abused or even do much parenting before or after the fact.

It's the way men's parental struggles are seen sympathetically, and they don't have to "pay for it" like their female counterparts (Crookedstar's PPD vs Sparkpelt's PPD, how Daisy and Cinders are held responsible for Smoky and Whisper being deadbeats, Yellowfang's endless guilt for killing her son vs Onestar's purpose in life to kill his own), even to the point where a father doesn't have to have raised their kids at all to have a magical innate emotional connection to them (Tree's father Root, Tom the Wifebeater, Tigerstar and Hawkfrost).

It's less speaking lines and agency for female characters, being reduced to accessories in the lives of their mates and babies, women getting less diversity in their personalities, with even major ex-POV characters eventually becoming "sweet mom" tropes.

You could zoom in on any one of these examples and have an amoeba try to argue with you that "Oh THIS makes sense because X" or "Ah well my headcanon perfectly explains this thing" or "MY mother/girlfriend was abusive/toxic/neglectful and I've decided that you are personally attacking ME by having issues with how a character was written or utilized," but the beleaguered point,

That I keep trying to hammer in, over and over, across books worth of posts,

Is that these are trends. More than just a couple one-off examples. It's the fabric that has been woven over years, showing a lack of interest in, or even active prejudice of, women on behalf of the writers.

LONG STANDING trends, which have only gotten worse as the series progressed. From Yellowfang being harshly punished with a born evil son who ruins her life in TPB and the mistreatment of Squirrelpaw that begins in TNP, all the way up to the 7 Fridgenings of DOTC and Sparkpelt's PPD being a major character motivator for her son Nightheart.

So, I would stress that in your paper, and structure it less as "the Sparkpelt slide" and "the Yellowfang slide," and more as "The paternal vs maternal abuse" slide, and "the violence against women" slide. They're really big issues, there's tons of examples for each individual thing.

Anyway to leave off on a funny, look at this scene in Darkest Hour that I find unreasonably hilarious,

"Everyone who matters to me; my truest friend, my sensible and loyal warrior, the wisest deputy I've ever known, and 2 women." -Firestar, glorious idiot

He can't even think of a single trait for either of them what the hell does "formidable pair" mean lmaooo, when I finished a reread about a year ago this line killed me on impact.

#bone babble #cw misogyny #warrior cats analysis #SO good luck!! Absolutely ping me when you're done I wanna see lmao #Full disclosure I'm bad at responding to DMs because I open them and then forget #But I can try to answer your questions #Feel free to send questions in tho. You don't have to come off anon if you don't want i don't mind #I cannot stress enough. I'm just a guy who likes to yell about cats.

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