#pronounced “gauche”

[brainrotbott]

got that star wars Rebels drip (disease)

[dullgecko]

Goblins dont have traditional gender/pronouns, or care about any difference between sexes, even when raised in places where that is a thing they're kind of just like 'the people around you will decide for you, just go with it'. The closest to the concept of gender they have is sometimes a goblin will really like on object or concept or something and just go 'yeah, im this thing'.

So Riz is kind of used to it, but the first time they visit a goblin village the goblins keep trying to remind the other bad kids of their names because 'you keep calling me He or Him, i do not know those people, my name isn't hard to pronounce, please :('

Biological sex is just sortof an afterthought to most goblins, and only really thought of in the sense that one of the two can carry children and the other sires them (and if you want to swap or be neither or both at once goblins have spells to change you to whatever you want just go ask one of the elders and they'll sort you out). You wouldnt even know anothers sex unless you asked because there isnt much difference (females dont have breasts unless activily child rearing to make it more obvious so Sklonda wears a padded bra in Elmsville to make it easier for people to clock she's female).

Most matchmaking for breeding purposes is organised by the elders as well (because they're the ones aware of what each persons biology is, especially if some are swapping backwards and forwards) and its considered a little gauche to bring up in conversation.

Its part of the reason why, in terms of monster eradication, it was always reccomended that you wipe out the entire horde if you come across one. Just two goblins, no matter their gender, can repopulate and you'll end up with an 'infestation' again.

The whole 'others with choose for you' things is partially why Riz goes for the whole suit-and-tie getup. His dad told him when he younger that he would get catagorised as male and Solesians seem to be obsessed with pronouns. Riz decided at that point that if he's a 'male' he needs to dress the part and did research to find out what the most 'male' clothing was. Hilariously, Fabian is being the most polite in terms of goblin pronouns unintentionally by defaulting to 'The Ball'. Riz called himself 'The Ball' once so yeah Fabian is correct, that is his pronoun good job buddy, you're such a good friend you're doing so well.

It does mean that most goblins when speaking common do badly with pronouns, always refering to themselves or other people by name, race or general description (The Orc, The Tall One, The Pretty Elf) or defaulting to they/them unless they are told specifically 'this is what im referred to as'.

[lizzybeth1986]

A Child of Babel

Book: The Royal Romance

Characters: Kiara-centric. Hints of Drake x Kiara (unrequited) and Hana x Kiara.

Word Count: 3, 484 words

Summary: The five times Kiara uttered the proverb of a language under her breath, and the two times she did it to someone's face.

A/N: I really wanted to try out a 5+1 fic format but somehow it became a 6+1 fic instead haha

Tagging @kiaratheronappreciationweek for KTAW Day 3: Languages, @choicesficwriterscreations for FoTW, @choicesmaychallenge24 for Hermes: Travel

Wolof

Princesses Lerato and Lesidi will never forget the exact moment they knew Lady Kiara Thorne would become their friend.

At lunch today, it was hard initially to tell if the meal today was to her liking. She'd made all the right noises, said all the right words. Rich. Meaty. What bold flavours. But how does that count? She's the kind of girl who has likely been coached enough in courtly propriety and gastrodiplomacy (at age 11. Eleven!), that you can't quite tell if she genuinely enjoyed the food or just wanted to please her hosts.

The sisters shift uncomfortably in their plush seats at the dining hall of their palace, their eyes barely leaving the young girl's plate. Benachin jollof rice was hardly for the weak of heart (or stomach) but that never stopped the royal family of Orphys from showing pride in this particular dish. It was, after all, the jewel in the crown of their ancestral Senegambian cuisine.

So it would pierce the Orphysian soul to its core, in very specific ways, if one didn't like their jollof. Probably just as much as it would shatter a Cordonian's spirit, if you told them you thought their Cordonian Rubies tasted vile.

"Ohhh," Lady Kiara mumbled, visibly relaxed at last. "Xifuma wante samay bët suruñuuuuu". The final word comes out elongated by a leisurely moan of satisfaction. I’m not hungry but my eyes aren’t full.

For a moment, the two girls are stunned to stillness in their chairs.

Little Kiara - Lerato is beginning to recognise - is trying to utter an old Wollof proverb about the joys of their ancestral cuisine. It's said so softly you can barely hear her, and both she and her sister can hazard a guess as to why.

Of the five words said, she pronounced three wrong. Kiara knew that, and felt ashamed.

The sisters pass each other a look of knowing affection. Not many in Europe, outside of Orphys, know this proverb that well. It is indeed the kind of phrase you will chance upon only if you've been consistently trying to learn.

She had to have been learning for over a year to get to this point.

Terrible pronunciation be damned. Next time they meet Kiara again, Lerato and Lesidi sure as hell know they're gifting her the recipe.

French

"Dammit," Kiara hisses at...well...no one in particular, and especially not to the retreating figure of her longtime (and forever clueless) crush. Now that he's gone, the urge to kick herself is becoming increasingly more difficult to suppress.

Drake Walker's loose overshirt flaps against his back as he walks out of the stable, in quick, sure, decisive footsteps. There has always been some sense of purpose in his movements whenever he leaves someplace, even if - to Kiara's knowledge - he hasn't exactly had a job as such ever since that stint he took at the stables the summer she turned fifteen.

It's almost as if that is the only thing he's certain he wants to do here. Leaving.

Kiara presses her head against the door of the stable, his fists balled up so she can resist the unnecessarily dramatic urge to bang it against the wood. She's done everything - everything her admittedly-gauche, relatively-inexperienced 18 year old brain could think of - to catch his attention.

Educate herself on horses (for obvious reasons).

Read up on woodworking (Olivia had mentioned once in passing that he adored good carpentry - nothing much was said about whether he liked practicing. Still, not a bad idea for a conversation starter)

Tried to enjoy whiskey. (Didn't get past half a mug, unfortunately. It was...interesting. She treated herself to her favourite bottle of Tempranillo later).

Came to the stables today for what she tried to pass off as a friendly chat about the winning stakes at the upcoming Derby. (She could have been talking to a haystack for all it mattered. He just looked up from his saddle tack set, took off his disgustingly well-disguised earphones, raised his eyebrows and said, "You were saying something??" before leaving without an answer)

(She'd worked so fucking hard to sound like she knew what she was talking about)

Kiara groans again against the door, weakly punching it one final time before she opens it, muttering furiously underneath her breath.

"Just give it up, Kiki," she scolds herself, hands jammed into the pockets of her coat. "C'est comme pisser dans un violon."

"Eww," a high-pitched, rather sweet voice says behind her, "That sounds like an...uncomfortably specific preference for a place to piss."

Kiara tries - and fails - to hide her grimace. On any other day, she'd be proud of Savannah for coming this far in just a few months. She's certain that her dear friend's rather successful attempt at translation is more a miracle of guesswork. A combination of remembering the few words she has been taught so far, and figuring out the ones that sound closer to their English counterparts.

(And that is how it must be. That is how Kiara knows that Savannah is serious about learning this language)

On any other day she'd praise her. But today... today she just wants to erase the last ten minutes from her brain. The last person she wants to know about her deep, tragic humiliation is the sister of the man who had crushed her umpteenth attempt to impress him to dust. With his fucking headphones.

"Forget you ever heard that," Kiara mumbles, "come, let's go see what snacks they have for tea. I'm starving."

Darija

On the day Prince Leo and his fiancée, Countess Madeleine, visit Castelserraillan after their engagement tour, there are only two members of the Thorne family waiting to receive the entourage. Kiara, and her father.

Ezekiel is barely - if ever - noticed and he would rather leave it that way. But Maman...they had to create a story for her.

The official excuse is that she'll be hosting an immensely important international art fair around the same time - one that heralded the work of Cordonia's local artisans. One that was time-sensitive and couldn't possibly be shifted around, Crown Prince or no.

In reality, her mind had been made up, the moment Lady Kaouther - the young woman her parents had sponsored for the social season this year - returned to the province in tears, swearing to never set foot in the Capitol again, reluctant to even tell Maman and Baba what had gone so wrong.

But Maman had found out anyway. The press was loath to criticize the countess' treatment of her ladies-in-waiting, drooling like sick horses over every scrap of charm and quotable quote she threw their way.

But when Ana de Luca is close enough to you to have your number of speed dial, there's no end to the tea that'll be willingly spilled at your table.

Poor Kaouther was still getting threats and harassment from afar. Mostly to keep her mouth shut about her former employer's exploits. Both midly annoying and deeply sadistic. Both sober and rum-fuelled. Some may be impressed at how Countess Madeleine managed to maintain such secrecy, from even the royal family she is marrying into.

Maman cursed and swore she would never entertain a viper like that in her presence, and who could blame her?

Kiara swallows as she sees the entourage approached. Baba knew his relationship with the royal family was already hanging by a frighteningly precarious balance. He couldn't afford any further damage, and he hardly wanted to expose Madeleine's misdeeds without Kaouther's consent either.

So yes. They were going to go through the motions of greeting the royal entourage. They were going to be perfect hosts. But Madeleine would know. Madeleine would hear their words - cascading in waves of poisoned honey - and know. And be unable to tell anyone anything. That will be Kiara's unsaid, unheard promise to Kaouther, and to herself.

The Countess is stopped by the press before she walked over to their manor, her smile perfectly in place and her hand on a rather diffident Prince Leo's arm as she answers their questions. Yes, we are in love. Yes, our economy is strong. Yes, my aim is to build strong relationships with my people wherever I go. To let them know I do it all for them, and them alone. To be the Queen that Cordonia needs, that my subjects can trust.

Kiara has never heard so much horseshit spill out of a courtier's mouth, and she's been part of enough royal courts to see the worst.

"Shakuwn daha fik alhurirat 'aw albalbulat nahar aleid!" Kiara says roughly in Darija as the entourage - led by the Crown Prince and his future consort - approach. She thinks she's so special, but really she's only about as special as a plain harrira soup served at an Eid-ul-Fitr banquet.

Hakim gently nudges his daughter's shoulder with his own. "But ya Babba," he teases, probably to lighten her mood a little before the group arrives, "I thought you liked harrira soup."

Kiara gives Madeleine one last glare before schooling her face to a more neutral expression.

Her next words are going to be quite nasty by Castelserraillan standards, but for all the sacrifices they are making today her father can surely afford her this one luxury. "Not if it wears a face as sour as her's."

Greek

Just a five minute break, Penelope had promised, thirty minutes ago.

Kiara has only herself to blame for believing that nonsense, after being in close quarters with her for an entire month - but there's something about that woman that makes most people want to keep giving her the benefit of the doubt.

('Me,' Kiara wants to say, 'I'm people')

The beam she is carrying for the barn-raising is small, but heavy enough that you'd get tired out quickly if you didn't take help. By ten minutes Kiara has to will herself to move ahead. By fifteen her thighs begin to cramp, and by twenty her head is swimming and she has a brief spiteful thought about making Penelope carry twenty beams as a belated apology. Though knowing her (and it pains Kiara to admit this; she likes Penelope too much) she would find some way to make herself the victim.

Thirty minutes have passed now, and the only energy she has left is wasted in gritting her teeth and groaning "Just...a few more...steps...till I can drop this...stupid plank...Mon Dieu!!!"

Kiara's mind goes blank for several seconds as she feels the weight of the beam falling on her, a dull pain already throbbing on her ankle.

"Ohhh thée mou," she hears a rough, gravelly, rather disgruntled voice above her, its sound causing her heartbeats to pound violently in her chest and its owner already using his strong, strong hands to save her...

"Ópios den théli na zimósi," she whispers, completely drained, "déka méres koskinízi."

It's a proverb Kiara has often heard in the Capitol - specifically for procrastinators - and she has now lost count of the number of times Penelope has left something she doesn't like to do "for later"...often leading Kiara to finish the job alone.

Drake stares back at her, confused. Mentally, she kicks herself. Again.

Of course. She should've known. Drake Walker is familiar enough with Greek that he'll maybe cuss or blurt out a phrase he'd learned from his childhood in the palace, but clearly he has no patience for metaphors, allegories, idioms or proverbs.

"Oh, uh...merci beaucoup," she backtracks, awkwardly.

Drake shakes his head - his eyes, amused, still on her face - and throws the beam away. It doesn't mean much, but that ten-second glance is fuel enough at this point for a month's worth of dreams.

Almost as if from a great distance, she thinks she can hear Esther's voice, low and concerned. "Kiara? Are you okay??"

Kiara locks eyes with Drake, and for once he meets her gaze. Doesn't say anything, doesn't even show a reaction - but at least he isn't looking away like she doesn't matter.

She smiles brightly. "I am now."

Gujarati/Mandarin

Married as they have been for six months now, Kiara can tell by several small, subtle signs when Hana is nervous.

Not that Hana makes observing a very hard task, not at all. She has an immensely expressive face.

Kiara massages the soft parts of her palm - just the way she likes it - while Hana takes several deep breaths.

"This is the first Parsi wedding I'll be attending, ever," Hana says slowly. "The bride is my cousin. This is supposed to be my family, and yet all of this feels as alien as if I never had a mother from this community." She closes her eyes then opens them again, gazing at the wedding sign on the gate. Delnaaz weds Zubin. "What if I mess this up?"

"You won't," Kiara takes both Hana's hands in hers. "And even if you do make a sliver of a mistake, Delnaaz is not going to judge you. And she's the bride; she's the one who matters. She's nothing like your mother or your uncle Cyrus."

Hana lets out a shaky laugh. "God I hope not." Her finger strokes lightly against Kiara's cheek. "One last kiss? For luck?"

Kiara presses her forehead against Hana's after they're done, sighing gently. Mon Dieu, how I love this woman.

"Remember that saying you hear from practically all the nice people in Bethulia," Kiara winds her arms around Hana's waist. "It's so prolific they should start painting it on their coat-of-arms. In Gujarati."

"Khavanu, pivanu, majja ni life." They both laugh gently as they whisper the phrase, hugging each other tighter. Eat, drink and be merry, indeed.

Hana seems to take that advice to heart once they go in, and most of the family (whether enthusiastically, or under duress - the latter perhaps a result of Delnaaz having a stern talking-to with relatives who had rejected Hana earlier) openly welcomes Hana into the fold.

The wedding goes terrifically: Delnaaz appears resplendent in a gorgeous white silk-and-lace Parsi Gara sari (that, Hana informs her, has been the family heirloom for five generations now), her (now) husband looking very distinguished in his white dagli and a black fetah atop his head. Once she finds herself comfortable among people who should treat her like family, Hana practically shines in her interactions - scintillating at conversations, singing and dancing and joking with the rest when she can.

Her Gujarati is a little shaky still, but that's hardly a problem. After all, this is the first language we're going to learn together, ma moitié, Kiara had reassured her once.

A few hours later, when the party started winding down, Hana and Kiara shifted to a smaller, more secluded alcove within the wedding venue. Dinyar - another of Hana's Bethulian cousins - pointed it out to Kiara, whispering conspiratorily that very few in the wedding party noticed this place at all and they could have all the privacy they wanted. Hana made sure they carried a sweet along.

And so here they are, now, inside a romantic little gazebo, sitting together - Hana taking a spoonful of Lagan nu Custard and raising it to Kiara's lips. They close their eyes as they savour. Silky. Creamy. Decadent.

"Look at us, playing hooky at an event when you were so worried about behaving right just yesterday. Yet won't you say this little moment by ourselves was the best one?"

Hana winks. "You know me so well."

"Only as well as you do, darling," she says, cupping Hana's cheek, "My soulmate."

When they kiss, Kiara can taste hints of cardamom and nutmeg on Hana's tongue. She laughs into their kiss.

"Zài tiān yuàn zuò bǐ yì niǎo..." Kiara says, the grin hardly leaving her face when they part.

"...zài dì yuàn zuò lián lǐ zhī!" Hana wipes the last bit of custard on the tip of Kiara's nose, then uses that as an excuse to gently bite it off her.

They tighten their arms around each other. That saying has always been a favourite with both of them.

In heaven let us be two birds flying ever together, and on earth two trees with branches interlocked forever.

Bonus: English (with a tiny side serving of Cajun French)

Queen Esther seems almost transformed when their entourage sets foot in Louisiana. In some ways, she seems even more at home here than she had ever seemed even in New York. And to think, everyone thought that place was her home!

"It is," she'd explained once, when Kiara had asked her, "but NOLA was where I was born. I spent my entire childhood here. A part of me will always remain here."

She takes them to an old favourite of her parents', a mom-and-pop shop that's still miraculously standing and - according to Esther - that still possesses the same incredible flavours. Hana is already all praise for the gumbo and the bananas foster.

"Try the beignets, Hana," Esther suggests, her eyes sparkling at her open joy. "Dip them in the hot chocolate. Best that way!"

She does...and next thing they know, Hana's best friend and wife are treated to a happy dance on a chair.

Kiara's eyes are set on what seems to be a more humble (but moist, glistening, crisp on the outside!) preparation. A croquette of some sort?

"Boulettes de chevrette," the server replies, closely watching her face.

"...shrimp?" Kiara says, after a pause too significant for Esther to miss. The server nods.

"You certainly took a little extra time to mentally translate that," she says. "Is it called something else in French?"

"Yes," Kiara replies, "We call it crevette. But that's not the part I find interesting."

Intrigued, Esther raises an eyebrow, nodding at her companion to continue.

She clears her throat. "I'm beginning to find that certain words in your French have retained their original form from older versions of our language. And with others, they've evolved over time into different words, while in our language that word remained the way it was. Chevrette was what we used to call shrimp before we started using the Norman regional variant, crevette."

"Oh wow," Esther says, amazed, "I had no clue."

Kiara smiles. "Now you do."

Later that evening, the queen confides in her.

"You know...I used to be nervous speaking French in front of you."

Kiara's eyebrows are knit together in confusion. "Pourquoi?? You spoke very well."

Esther sighs. "It's silly."

"Tell me all the same."

Esther laughs, almost as if at the foolishness of her younger self. "I thought you'd make fun of me for "speaking French all wrong". That you'd look down on me."

Kiara's heart sinks to her stomach. "Did I really sound that snotty back then?"

"Oh no. No," Esther reassures her. "Especially not with languages."

Kiara is familiar enough with Esther now to teasingly nudge her arm a little with her elbow. "At least not unless you're asking me to sleep with you. You can't imagine how many people would just say voulez vouz coucher avec moi ce soir to my face, and think they could get away with it. And this was even before Hana introduced me to Lady Marmalade!"

Esther rolls her eyes, chuckling ruefully. "I introduced her to that one."

The laughter doesn't last very long. Lines of humour then dissolve into lines of tension on Esther's face. She isn't quite done explaining yet. "I guess I was just...feeling a little out of place. So I may have projected a little back then."

Kiara nodded. She did remember how hard that season, and the subsequent engagement tour (which she often things of with a little regret), had been on Esther. And she'd never allowed those fears and insecurities to show on her face. "That makes sense," she says, "but you know there's this saying I read a while ago..."

"What?" Esther asks, her curiosity now piqued.

"'We should learn languages because language is the only thing worth knowing even poorly.' It's a quote by a Hungarian translator mamed Kató Lomb."

Esther seems to open her mouth to protest the appropriateness of the quote, when Kiara stops her. "For the record, it doesn't correctly apply to your use of Cajun French. That is a dialect. It has its own rules. En vrai, I'd love to learn more."

The Queen relaxes, even smiling at the casual reference to her - something she knows Kiara will only use when she's sure they are friends.

"I'm just saying that even if you did get phrases in a language wrong, that wouldn't be reason enough for me to scoff at you. I'd be a hypocrite if I did that. After all, I wouldn't be this good at ten languages if I weren't constantly making mistakes."

As she often does since that eventful first meeting in Orphys, she remembers the kindness Lerato and Lesidi showed her, despite her terrible, terrible attempt at saying something in Wolof. The recipe for Senegambian-style jollof, that they gave her the next time she had visited their kingdom, still holds pride of place in her personal collection of precious things.

"I think what I'm saying is," she says, taking a deep breath, "when you make mistakes but the result is that I'm hearing a new language come out of your mouth, it's a wonderful thing. To me, it means you want to learn. And everyone's pace is different, so I'm no one to judge if you take more time to learn it than on someone else. There is never anything wrong with that."

Esther smiles again, softer this time, and more admiringly. "Noted," she says softly. "And we should definitely pack some fried alligator and remoulade sauce from here to snack on later."

Kiara grins. Her mouth is already watering. "We certainly will."

--

Translations:

Xifuma wante samay bët suruñu (Wolof) - I’m not hungry but my eyes aren’t full (basically the food is really really delicious). Source: Grace in Senegal

C'est comme pisser dans un violon! (French) - It's like pissing inside a violin! (Used to describe something useless and ineffective, or to complain about not being listened to after asking somebody to do something. Pissing in a violin is ineffective, it won't make a sound.) Source: Untranslatable

شكون داها فيك الحريرة (أو البلبولة) نهار العي

(Darija)

Describing someone who is incredibly pleased with themselves, but in actuality they are like Harrira on Eid al Fitr. Used to criticize someone who thinks very highly of themselves but has no justifiable reason to do so. Kind of like saying "you think you're hot shit in a champagne glass when you are really cold diarrhea in a Dixie cup". To explain the cultural context a little, Harrira is the soup Moroccans eat every day during Ramadan. On Eid, it stays in the fridge and people eat a lot of sweets. Source: Arabic Easy Language blog

Όποιος δεν θέλει να ζυμώσει, δέκα μέρες κοσκινίζει (Greek) - "Whoever does not want to knead, sifts for ten days". It is used to describe a procrastinator who finds every reason not to engage with their assigned task. Source: GreekPod 101.

Khavanu, pivanu, majja ni life (Gujarati) - khavanu refers to eating, pivanu refers to drinking, majja ni life means life is fun/amazing or to enjoy life. So it's basically "eat, drink and make merry". It's a popular Gujarati saying, I think, but it's associated most with the Parsi community.

在天愿作比翼鸟，在地愿为连理枝。(Mandarin) - In heaven as two birds flying together, On earth as two trees with branches interlocked forever. Basically a romantic proverb about soulmates. Source: China Plus

Notes:

The full quote from Kató Lomb goes like this:

"We should learn languages because language is the only thing worth knowing even poorly. If someone knows how to play the violin only a little, he will find that the painful minutes he causes are not in proportion to the possible joy he gains from his playing. The amateur chemist spares himself ridicule only as long as he doesn’t aspire for professional laurels. The man somewhat skilled in medicine will not go far, and if he tries to trade on his knowledge without certification, he will be locked up as a quack doctor.

Solely in the world of languages is the amateur of value. Well-intentioned sentences full of mistakes can still build bridges between people. Asking in broken Italian which train we are supposed to board at the Venice railway station is far from useless. Indeed, it is better to do that than to remain uncertain and silent and end up back in Budapest rather than in Milan."

The line about chevrette/crevette is something I read from the LSU website, from their Department of French Studies. This is what it says:

"Change is inevitable for living languages. It would be unreasonable, however, to expect change to happen in the same way in places remote from each other. In some cases, Cajun French has maintained words, structures and pronunciations which the French have long ago abandoned. For example, Cajuns have maintained the original chevrette to refer to shrimp, while the French adopted the Norman regional variant crevette as their standard word. In other cases, Cajun words or pronunciations have evolved while the French word remained stable. The French recevoir, for example, has become reçoir in Cajun French."

Source: LSU Department of French Studies

[sandplague]

this person got a train ticket in their merch package, which lead them to the reddit user profile of “FyodorVitin”, which as of now (April 16) has only the letter from Daniil posted. If anyone has a non-google translate version of the letter please let me know or I can see if any of my friends feel like getting paid to translate it in full. I’ll keep abreast of that post for any new updates there...

No one has commented on the post containing the letter even though it seems like commenting is open, is that like gauche in ARGs or whatever this kickstarter merch thing is? The FyodorVitin account was made February 3rd, 2023 and the letter was posted March 21, 2023. I’m not yet sure of the significance of the username, I would think vitin would be pronounced витин but when I’m looking into this spelling by itself first and then adding Фёдор later I’m not sure if anything is relevant yet. sorry I’m sure someone else has already made some writeup on this but I haven’t checked the tags in years and I just do this blog for fun now with blinders on like a horse I guess lol.

[thegreenwallrabbit-blog]

Random thoughs on Sebastian LaCroix’s accent

Something I’ve always found odd is that Sebastian LaCroix is supposed to be French but talks with a English accent. I assume that when he learned English  he probably learned British-English, due to the proximity of England and France, but even so he would have started out speaking  with some sort of  French accent. I’m not sure how losing accents works when your a ~ 200 year old vampire, but I have this idea in my head that LaCroix would be the kind of person who would purposely put a lot of effort into changing their accents if they thought it would make them more respected in some way. Mostly this is because even when his mask of composure is slipping while obsessing over the sarcophagus his accent never falters. Not sure why he thought that sounding English specifically ( google tells me that Received Pronunciation is what an upper class English accent is so thats what i’m going with) gave him some sort of status that a French accent didn’t when speaking English. Part of the reason I find this odd is that France and England historically hate each other and this was probably was more pronounced back in 1815  and LaCroix don’t seem ashamed about being French.

P.S. I realize that the out of game explanation is probably something boring  such as his voice actor Andy Milder, who does an AMAZING job and that can’t be stated enough, couldn’t do a French accent (Google says Rive Gauche is what an upper class French accent is called) or it was determined that players would associate an English accent more with with the upper class “aristocrat airs” they were going for. I just find it fun to think about why in game lore reasons. 

[kiwiana-writes]

Hey MJ! I have a question that’s been on my mind for months. In “With So Much of My Heart…” is there a reason that Henry is so insistent on Alex including the Mountchristen part of his name? I would think that he’d be happy to shed the part of himself that’s associated with his grandmother and he’d like that people more readily see him as his father’s son, but he corrects Alex every time he just calls him Fox. So is it just a point of banter between them or is there a deeper meaning in regards to Henry’s identity there?

Hey anon! This is such an interesting, thoughtful question, so thank you for asking it 💙

Honestly, it was mostly because people not bothering with both halves of a double-barrelled name is a massive bugbear for me and I project that onto all of my characters who have double-barrelled names lmao. If you've read a bunch of my stuff, you might also pick up that I never, ever have Ellen and Oscar doing the whole "calling Alex by only the other person's surname when he's pissing them off" thing from the book unless I'm directly calling out how fucked up that actually is—and it really is. Getting someone's name right is really the absolute bare minimum of respect: whether it's correctly pronouncing (or at least sincerely attempting) names from a culture you're unfamiliar with, or using trans people's correct names, or that thing that often happens to women who don't change their surname on marriage where people keep passive-aggressively sending mail to "Mr and Mrs X" even though they know full well "Mrs X" doesn't actually exist.

But the other part of it is that while, yes, Mountchristen is the part of his name that's associated with his grandmother, it's also associated with his mother. Not to get too 'projecting onto fictional characters on main' about it, but I changed my surname away from my abusive father's the moment I turned 18 because I didn't want the association—I don't regret that choice, but other members of that side of my family were hurt by it, including and especially my (much) younger brother on my dad's side who very much felt it as a rejection. Because he's so much younger than me, we weren't able to talk about that frankly for a long time, and it left its mark. Names are complicated, legacy is complicated, feelings on abusive and/or toxic family members and the impact they have on us are incredibly complicated.

But also, it's another thing Henry can give Alex shit about and that's important too—troll Henry is my favourite Henry. (And not for nothing, but Henry absolutely could have chosen to go by 'Henry Fox' professionally even if he was Henry Fox-Mountchristen legally, and I suspect his decision to leave the Mountchristen in his name for his "gauche" acting career pissed Mary off immensely lol.)

Thank you again, I am eternally overwhelmed that people care enough about my little queer words to put this much thought into them 💙💙💙

[huntunderironskies]

So you mentioned doing a lot of research for Deed Names. Have any tips for making them for the five main tribes?

I sure do! Though I should clarify this isn't research so much as a lot of headcanons vaguely based on some stuff in Tribes of the Moon, but anyone is welcome to adopt the concepts herein. Deed names are standard in the games I run and they're usually a sign that an Uratha is a full-blown adult hunter, so taking at least one is a rite of passage of sorts.

Disclaimer that these are potential rules of thumb and as the Tribes are not centralized religious organizations with strict hierarchies, they'll often adapt around regional trends. As a general trend a deed name should be a.) pronounceable and translatable into the First Tongue, and b.) something you can look at and say "oh, that's what this guy is about."

Going in alphabetical order:

Blood Talons

Kinda like Predator Kings. Since this sat in my drafts for eight billion years, as a brief recap Predator King names almost always involve violence in some way, shape, or form. However, Blood Talons lack the same dedication to being straightforward and simple. Obviously you're going to take your deed name from a particularly memorable fight, but you're theoretically going to have a lot of those. So Blood Talon deed names frequently turn into a very long list of accomplishments.

Bone Shadows

Florid. Over-the-top. Should sound very impressive in First Tongue. The most likely out of all the Tribes to adopt multiple deed names that they use in different situations based on what they're dealing with at the time. I think an overlooked aspect of Bone Shadows is that, as incredibly fucking strange as they are, they're also one of the most socially adept Tribes. Bone Shadows love secrets, and a lot of the time you will need to pry secrets out of living (or unliving) people. That takes social finesse. And you probably shouldn't have a name that comes from killing a particularly powerful spirit if you're trying to be a diplomat to a spirit choir. It's a bit gauche. On the other hand, it is nice to have around other werewolves.

Hunters in Darkness

Important note: I mostly ignore what Tribes of the Moon says and usually have Hunters in Darkness as the most (or tied for the most if you treat Eaters of the Dead as a full Tribe) involved in their pups' rites of passage. Typically a pup is assigned a mentor figure who they keep in semi close contact with for the rest of their lives, and that mentor figure is almost always the one to give them their deed name. It's treated as a gift and the final thing that a mentor will give to their charge before letting them off to run with their own pack. Given the focus that the Hunters in Darkness have on sacred motherhood in the way they see Luna and Urfarah (and here being the mom friend is a state of mind) it makes a lot of sense.

With that said...naturalistic themes are probably pretty common. A lot of times their "deed name" isn't even from a specific deed so much as a slightly abstract metaphor for what they've done that's particularly memorable. Also, it's on brand to keep someone guessing about what you're capable of because generally speaking someone is going to fill in the blanks with the most intimidating possible thing. Your imagination will probably compose something worse than what they actually did.

Iron Masters

As a rule Iron Master deed names tend to more resemble callsigns in the military than anything else. They should be fairly short and could almost function as more of a nickname. That said, they're also the most likely to adapt around regional traditions for deed names. Adapting is their thing. One of the original cities I made had a very long-standing alliance between the Iron Masters and Hunters in Darkness, with a major regional myth being that a powerful locus in the area (in fact one of the most potent loci in the US) was created when Black Wolf and Red Wolf first touched down in the area after breaching through the Shadow. As such Iron Master names heavily incorporated the same nature-based metaphors that the Hunters in Darkness did.

Storm Lords

I really like the idea of Storm Lords using a form of virtue names like you would see in early Quaker communities, just more for Uratha values. It's something simple and straightforward you could use in public and it does make a lot of sense since the Storm Lords are supposed to be everything an ideal Uratha should be.

It also seems very like a Storm Lord to not tie yourself to one specific deed if you know you're going to surpass yourself eventually. This could lead to a Blood Talon situation where you're constantly tacking on new epithets but the other thing that feels like a Storm Lord is keeping your cards close to your chest in terms of what you're capable of. You don't need to brag about what you can do. It's manifestly evident in your actions.

Side note: speaking of localized trends, in one of the settings I used the local Storm Lords of the protectorate were extremely heavily associated with the Catholic Church and a plurality of them were members of the Lodge of the Savior so taking names from the actions of human or Uratha saints was very, very commonplace.

[heystephen]

I have an English degree (and that's my second language) but I distinctly remember where I was for each one of the words in the poll you reblogged so I'm here to share a couple of them. I mean the English ones, not the ones that have a Latin root and are same/similar in other languages I know.

For instance, I distinctly remember being in the second year of my degree and my modern English language professor screaming at the entire classroom of students for not knowing the meaning of the word gauche. Machiavellian was in another class during my studies, when a student mentioned it while explaining a book character. It was then that I realized that my literature professors in high school were garbage because we just learned the story of whatever book we were studying, and a little bit about the author's life, and that was that. I did learn Midas thanks to Taylor, while also looking up other Greek myths to theorize (for fun) because the dude's name is spelled differently in my native language. In fact, most Greek mythical figures are spelled/pronounced completely differently in my native language, which is what I learned then.

it’s actually rly interesting to me that the greek mythical figures are spelled/pronounced differently elsewhere, i don’t know why i always assumed their names were universally the same. maybe because they’re so unusual as it is, but that makes sense now that i think about it

[blorb0]

hi sorry im not trying to be rude but i really dont think youre right. if someone pronounces a foreign word completely wrong because theyve never heard it said out loud before, they are saying it wrong even if they mean well and you wouldnt be wrong for correcting them. even if the word is in their native language, maybe they just dont know how its pronounced and land on something completely different; theyre wrong, and that doesnt mean theyre doing anything bad. its fine to be wrong. that being said i do agree that every word out there has a range of variations in pronunciation that are still correct/acceptable and accents and such dont ever count as mispronouncing things because theyre out of your control

like, i dont care if someone pronounces it gif or jif but if they read the word 'gif' and pronounce it as 'cat' its not bad to tell them they got the pronunciation wrong. obviously thats hyperbole but you get what i mean right? if someone pronounced 'gauche: as 'gow-kee' it wouldnt be wrong to correct them. that is an incorrect pronunciation

yep! i never said it would be bad to correct, just wrong to comment negatively. once again, i agree with you. my post was a generalization about the treatment of non-standard accents and i’ll admit i didn’t have purposeful mispronunciation of names in mind when writing the post. nothing wrong with correcting people when they’re mispronouncing words out of ignorance or malice

[afpwestcoast]

The Glass House, Pomona, CA, 12/31/22

For nine years, from 2004 to 2012, I spent every NYE with AFP. Since then there’s been only one, in 2017, which was right after her Christmas Eve miscarriage. That night was such a hot mess - both onstage and off - that I didn’t even write it up.

But this year the Dresden Dolls are back and hot off a 3-night stand in Woodstock, so it promised to be a New Year’s Eve to remember!

The motivation behind the show was a little odd. Amanda’s 7yo son Ash was missing his friends in New Zealand, so she was flying him across the globe for “the most expensive play date ever.” She decided to stay over in LA - Brian Viglione’s hometown - to break up the ~20hr travel time from New York to New Zealand. And, if you’re spending time in your bandmate’s hometown why not put on a show?

Before the show, after what was either a very long sound check or a very short rehearsal, Amanda was uncharacteristically nervous. The show had been quickly thrown together at the last minute and since she was only in town for what was essentially a long layover there was little time to prepare or rehearse. Plus, due to the need to wrangle her child onto an airplane the next morning, she would not be drinking this evening (I told her that I would drink enough for both of us (MISSION ACCOMPLISHED!)).

I tried to reassure her by reminding her that spontaneously creating beauty from chaos was kind of her super power. And while she acknowledged that fact she asserted that there had to be SOME level of preparation; you can’t just wing the whole thing. I told her I had confidence that she could pull it off; confidence that turned out to be well-founded.

The venue was less intimate than the one in Woodstock, and not just because it was larger. There was a barricade around the stage that kept the crowd back, the stage was elevated to chest level, and the keyboard and drum kit were set atop two separate risers on top of the stage. This meant that the crowd was much further from the band (in Woodstock I actually handed Brian a drink) but also that Amanda and Brian were further apart and each on their own separate island.

Another issue with the venue was a leaky roof. This happens in SoCal a lot because it rains so infrequently that fixing a leak doesn’t seem urgent. But it was raining tonight leading to a steady drip drip drip of water onto the stage. Their solution was to place a large garbage can on stage to catch the drips. The stage was big enough that this didn’t really impede things, but it was deemed gauche and so Brian declared that they could only leave the garbage can onstage if they had an Oscar the Grouch puppet to go with it. So they put a towel down under the drip and taped it down with gaffer’s tape.

But what the show lacked in intimacy it made up in energy. With multiple special guests, confetti bombs at midnight, and a sober Amanda this show rivaled any NYE show from years past and was a wonderful way to ring in the new year despite Amanda’s pre-show jitters.

Annotated Set List:

Good Day

Sex Changes

Gravity

Backstabber

Modern Moonlight

My Alcoholic Friends 

Missed Me Amanda replaced the line “You must want to fuck me” with “You must want to cast me” in a nod to the Harvey Weinstein episode, and LA in general. For some reason Brian kept talking into a banana. This was never explained.

Astronaut

Brian recounted a tale from the early days of the band. One of their first shows in LA was at The Viper Room - a pay-to-play venue. Avril Lavigne was there and admired Amanda’s (then painted-on) eyebrows.

Then they announced that the new Dresden Dolls album will be recorded in LA!

Whakenewha (pronounced Fuckin-A-Fa)

Delilah (featuring Veronica Swift)

Another Christmas New song!

Ultima Esperanza

Amsterdam (Jacques Brel cover) Amanda continued the tradition from Woodstock of singing this from the balcony.

Mandy Goes to Med School Once again a little Careless Whisper managed to sneak in there.

Amanda came to the front of the stage to stand on the sodden towel. With drips hitting her head she declared it to be like the welcome mat to hell.

The Gardener

Half Jack 

Amanda took an impromptu poll via raised hands to gauge what sort of year 2022 had been for the crowd. The general consensus was that it had been a shitty-to-mediocre year.

Coin-operated Boy

War Pigs (Black Sabbath cover)

Just before midnight Amanda adopted a ritual that Chris Wells had used at the show at the Old Dutch Church in August: leading the crowd in a group primal scream. It was very cathartic.

New Year’s Day (U2 cover) The band were joined on stage by the inimitable Jherek Bischoff on bass, Veronica Swift on trumpet(!), and Adam Silvestri (aka Radiator King) on guitar for the final 3 songs of the set.

Girl Anachronism

(You Gotta) Fight for Your Right (to Party!) (Beastie Boys cover)

——

Sing A massive assemblage (including Veronica Swift’s dog) took the stage for the finale.

Photo Gallery:

Ready to party! (Photo by Cam Horn)

Amanda does not appear to be the least bit nervous.

Ladies and gentlemen: The Dresden Dolls!

Delilah!

Is that Amanda up there?

The Welcome Mat to hell.

Shrouded in mist and mystery.

Preparation for …

… THE SCREAM!!!! (2nd photo by Michelle Shiers)

A toast!

MIDNIGHT!!!

Rock god Jherek Bischoff joins the fray for New Year’s Day!

Veronica Swift playing trumpet is a whole vibe.

Full band!

[shotbyshe]

Words of the Day

va chier: “fuck off” in French

grouse: a cause for complaint.

gauche:  lacking grace or social polish; awkward or tactless.

~~~

Instead of cursing, say ‘va chier’ when you want to tell someone off and sound sexy, nonchalant and somewhat cold. It’s pronounced ‘va sheh’ the ‘r’ is super subtle. You have to use your tongue to make it sound like it’s there but not LOL. No hard ‘r’ basically. I heard it in a new show I’m finding pretty interesting.

‘Grouse’ I heard in an Australian film when someone described Nicole Kidman’s acting.

‘Gauche’ I heard in an episode of season 3 of Succession (yes, I’m rewatching this AGAIN-it’s a great f*c*ing show) that I’ve heard before when I first saw the episode and liked the way Shiv said it and used it in a sentence. I never heard it again since then but always thought it was an interesting word. It looks like and reminds me of ‘gouache’, the paint. I think that’s why I like it too. Additionally, it so closely reminded me of ‘grouse’, which I heard in the same week. It’s funny how all 3 of these words make a ‘w’ sound without having ‘w’s in them. I’m fascinating by it. 

[terramythos]

Pronouncing gauche like gawrsh

[les-degustations-ugo]

🇫🇷❓❓Hello les amoureux du tire-bouchon. Et vous, aimez-vous les Haut Médoc ❓❓🇫🇷

🍇🍷AOP Haut Médoc Cru Bourgeois 2020 rouge du @chateau_senilhac 🍇🍷:

🌿:

HVE3

🍇 :

41% Cabernet Sauvignon

49% Merlot

10% Petit verdot

🏺:

Élevage en fûts neufs. Âgés moyen des Vignes 25 ans.

💰:

19,00€ / bouteille

👁️ :

Une robe de couleur pourpre soutenu

👃 :

Un nez expressif sur des notes de fruits noirs légèrement épicées

💋 :

En bouche, on a un vin avec un bel assemblage et une belle structure. Des tanins soupes et ronds en bouche avec du fruit. Sur des arômes de mûre, cassis, pruneaux, les épices sont plus prononcées, sur des notes de poivre blanc et lauriers. L'élevage est présent, mais très bien maîtrisé. Sans excès. Une bonne longueur en bouche avec une finale sur la vanille et les fruits à coque légèrement torréfiés.

📜En résumé📜 :

Un Haut Médoc de toute beauté, avec un excellent rapport qualité-prix plaisir. A ce prix là il ne faut surtout pas s'en priver. Peut également être conservé en cave quelques années pour notre plus grand plaisir.

🧆Dégusté sur du Canard rôti au miel 🧆.

🍷Quelques accords mets et vin possible avec cette cuvée🍷 : Carbonade de dinde, Chevreau grillé, Cuisses de poulet grillées au barbecue, Entrecôte à la bordelaise,....

📌N'oubliez pas, boire un canon c'est sauver

un vigneron. Allez voir le site internet du domaine pour voir toutes les cuvées et promotions du moment📌.

🔞« L'abus d'alcool est dangereux pour la santé, à consommer avec modération »🔞 La plupart des

vins ont été dégustés et recrachés. Dégustation non rémunéré.

#lesdegustationsugo #wine #winelover #vino #winetasting #winetime #winelovers #instawine #redwine #winestagram #winery #beer #wineoclock #vin #sommelier #love #vinho #foodporn #winelife #instagood #whitewine #cocktails #drinks #wein #foodie #wineporn #drink

_______________________________________

🇫🇷🗣️Description du Domaine 🇫🇷🗣️

Sur la rive gauche bordelaise, entre la Gironde et les forêts Landaises, au nord de Saint-Estèphe, le Château Sénilhac s’étend sur 40,7 hectares dont 23,76 ha plantés en vigne. Le vignoble bénéficie d’un terroir argilo-calcaire, qui recèle dans son sous-sol, une importante réserve d’eau, si précieuse lors des années de sécheresse, conférant ainsi au vin harmonie et richesse.

D’un âge moyen de 25 ans, le vignoble est cultivé avec respect et observation permettant de mettre en valeur son excellence.

La combinaison terroir/encépagement fait du Château Sénilhac un vin rond, souple et charnu, agréable à déguster jeune, mais aussi, de part sa dominante Cabernet, un excellent vin de garde.

Chaque parcelle bénéficie d’un travail précis et adapté à son profil. Des suivis réguliers de maturité sont réalisés par analyses et dégustations. Les raisins sont cueillis à bonne maturité et dans le meilleur état sanitaire possible. Château Sénilhac est certifiée d’exploitation de Haute Valeur Environnementale.

_______________________________________

⏬🇫🇷Français dans les commentaires🇫🇷🇮🇹Italiano nei commenti 🇮🇹⏬

🇬🇧❓❓Hello corkscrew lovers. And you, do you like Haut Médoc ❓❓🇬🇧

🍇🍷AOP Haut Médoc Cru Bourgeois 2020 red from @chateau_senilhac 🍇🍷:

🌿:

HVE3

🍇:

41% Cabernet Sauvignon

49% Merlot

10% Petit verdot

🏺:

Aging in new barrels. Average age of the Vines 25 years.

💰:

19.00€ / bottle

👁️:

A deep purple dress

👃:

An expressive nose with notes of slightly spicy black fruits

💋:

On the palate, we have a wine with a beautiful blend and a beautiful structure. Soft and round tannins on the palate with fruit. With aromas of blackberry, blackcurrant, prunes, the spices are more pronounced, with notes of white pepper and bay leaf. Breeding is present, but very well controlled. Without excess. Good length on the palate with a finish of vanilla and lightly roasted nuts.

📜In summary📜:

A very beautiful Haut Médoc, with excellent value for money. At this price you shouldn't deprive yourself of it. Can also be kept in the cellar for a few years for our greatest pleasure.

🧆Tasted on Honey Roasted Duck🧆.

🍷Some possible food and wine pairings with this vintage🍷: Turkey carbonade, Grilled kid, Barbecue-grilled chicken legs, Bordeaux-style steak,....

📌Don't forget, drinking a barrel is saving a winemaker. Go to the estate's website to see all the vintages and promotions of the moment📌.

🔞“Alcohol abuse is dangerous for your health, consume in moderation”🔞Most

wines were tasted and spat out. Unpaid tasting.

#lesdegustationsugo #wine #winelover #vino #winetasting #winetime #winelovers #instawine #redwine #winestagram #winery #beer #wineoclock #vin #sommelier #love #vinho #foodporn #winelife #instagood #whitewine #cocktails #drinks #wein #foodie #wineporn #drink

_____________________________________

🇬🇧🗣️Domain Description 🇬🇧🗣️

On the left bank of Bordeaux, between the Gironde and the Landes forests, north of Saint-Estèphe, Château Sénilhac extends over 40.7 hectares, including 23.76 ha planted with vines. The vineyard benefits from a clay-limestone terroir, which contains in its subsoil, a large reserve of water, so precious during years of drought, thus giving the wine harmony and richness.

With an average age of 25 years, the vineyard is cultivated with respect and observation to highlight its excellence.

The terroir/grape variety combination makes Château Sénilhac a round, supple and fleshy wine, pleasant to taste young, but also, due to its Cabernet dominance, an excellent wine for aging.

Each plot benefits from precise work adapted to its profile. Regular monitoring of maturity is carried out by analyzes and tastings. The grapes are picked at good maturity and in the best possible health condition. Château Sénilhac is certified as a High Environmental Value operation.

_______________________________________

🇮🇹❓❓Ciao amanti dei cavatappi. E a te, ti piace l'Haut Médoc ❓❓🇮🇹

🍇🍷AOP Haut Médoc Cru Bourgeois 2020 rosso di @chateau_senilhac 🍇🍷:

🌿:

HVE3

🍇:

41% Cabernet Sauvignon

Merlot 49%.

10% Piccolo verde

🏺:

Invecchiamento in botti nuove. Età media delle Vigne 25 anni.

💰:

19,00€/bottiglia

👁️:

Un vestito viola intenso

👃:

Un naso espressivo con note di frutti neri leggermente speziati

💋:

Al palato abbiamo un vino con un bel blend e una bella struttura. Tannini morbidi e rotondi al palato con sentori di frutta. Con aromi di mora, ribes nero, prugne secche, le spezie sono più pronunciate, con note di pepe bianco e alloro. La riproduzione è presente, ma molto ben controllata. Senza eccessi. Buona persistenza al palato con un finale di vaniglia e noci leggermente tostate.

📜In sintesi📜:

Un bellissimo Haut Médoc, con un eccellente rapporto qualità-prezzo. A questo prezzo non dovresti privartene. Può essere conservato anche in cantina per qualche anno per il nostro più grande piacere.

🧆Degustato su Anatra Arrosto Al Miele🧆.

🍷Alcuni possibili abbinamenti enogastronomici con questa annata🍷: Carbonata di tacchino, Capretto alla griglia, Cosce di pollo alla brace, Bistecca alla bordolese,....

📌Non dimenticare, bere una botte fa risparmiare un enologo. Vai sul sito dell'azienda per vedere tutte le annate e le promozioni del momento📌.

🔞“L'abuso di alcol è pericoloso per la salute, consumalo con moderazione”🔞Most

i vini venivano degustati e sputati. Degustazione non retribuita.

_______________________________________

🗣️🇮🇹Descrizione i Dominio 🗣️🇮🇹

Sulla riva sinistra di Bordeaux, tra le foreste della Gironda e delle Landes, a nord di Saint-Estèphe, Château Sénilhac si estende su 40,7 ettari, di cui 23,76 coltivati ​​a vigneto. Il vigneto beneficia di un terroir argilloso-calcareo, che racchiude nel suo sottosuolo, una grande riserva d'acqua, così preziosa durante anni di siccità, donando così al vino armonia e ricchezza.

Con un'età media di 25 anni, il vigneto è coltivato con rispetto e osservazione per evidenziarne l'eccellenza.

Il binomio terroir/vitigno rende Château Sénilhac un vino rotondo, elastico e carnoso, piacevole da degustare giovane, ma anche, per la sua dominanza Cabernet, un ottimo vino da invecchiamento.

Ogni appezzamento beneficia di un lavoro preciso adattato al suo profilo. Il monitoraggio regolare della maturità viene effettuato mediante analisi e degustazioni. Le uve vengono raccolte a buona maturazione e nel miglior stato sanitario possibile. Château Sénilhac è certificato come azienda ad alto valore ambientale.

[writer59january13]

Neigh say being corralled & cult shod

"Sic semper evello mortem tyrannis" translation = thus always I bring death to tyrants.”

Above the fray of twittering, squabbling, and madding crowds,

an arrogantly belligerent creature deified, yet vilified gauche, haughty lumpenproletariat

decreeing blind, deaf and dumb obeisance, whereby upon forced Sacrificial Altar

erected golden Olympian fleeced perch,

(he acquired, effected, indoctrinated vis-à-vis bloodless coup d'etat) absolute dictatorship jump/ kick starting veneration, albeit forced subservience

buzzfeeding, fostering (long) totalitarian reign crafting ship of state into figurative unwieldy beastly Leviathan through present Century21 incorporating deterministic, fascistic, masochistic, narcissistic, opportunistic, and shamanistic trumpeting

holier than though malevolent fiery bombast

fulminating laws, exuding self worth hortatory exclamations decreeing (by fiat, that no commoner

lest they want an Escort into Crossover realm

he/she cannot afford to Dodge commands, especially if and when Porsche comes to shove Fiats promulgated)

absolute valued flat out sharp devotion

pledging (née requiring) pilgrimages,

where his birthplace sanctified as cultural heritage site, (a humble abode in backwater of Queens) dammed, deemed, and donned

for populace to worship and pay requisite penance de rigueur in order to avoid premature death;

said consecration viz complex edifice analogous to Taj Mahal self declared god enshrined provenance,

where pathway paved with gold courtesy self declared demigod;

(one blimey, flimsy, nasty shortish and brutal Attilla the Hun wannabe),

who served daily dollop of dregs in dirty deeds done dirt cheap demitasse

admiring, fawning, kowtowing, primping, et cetera himself, i.e. a Beatle browed, bobble headed

mop top orange hirsute Talking Head (though likeness of his trademark coiffed haired countenance plastered across every square inch) detested, and feared unto Caesar, whose reflection shone thru and across wall to wall hall of mountain king mirrors; meanwhile Blood, Sweat And Tears for Fears Beastie Beach Boys and Goo Goo Dolls with Hooters aplenty painstakingly enslaved away

raspily, tentatively verily warbling words, (while simultaneously severely afflicted with heebie-jeebies) sung, (albeit barely audible) Stayin' Alive amidst noise of torture chamber smells of burning flesh as evidenced by branded, pierced, snd tattooed rebellious insubordinates invariably found culpable regarding lèse-majesté,

thus futilely skittering helter skelter from his majesty paw sized hands adorned with precious jewels monogrammed

with initials of Frederick Christ Trump Sr within whose grotto the heir found solace, perseverance, and divine guidance inspiring blistering, glorifying hymns punishing, and withering edicts

totally tubular proclamations pronouncing

matter of fact, unquestioned imposed fealty

larger than life persona, endowed

crowned, and accorded self supremacy,

where even divine

cosmic consciousness bows

and trembles acquiescing

toward ornery primate,

whose self crafted patriarchal

mandates imposed unquestioned vows,

where punishment meted out if questioning

of authority appeared to furrow brows

allowing, enabling and providing totalitarian usurper re: free will ordains wows

be uttered and furor

squelched via militaristic might,

whenever fuhrer didst rouse

the public to pay homage

(even if coerced, forced, and induced)

toward faux courtly house

of seized role of Caesar Augustus

enforcing abrogation,

whence sun t'will

dance and rise to douse

the chill from the dawn

early morn, and mother earth

will be delegated to serve

world wide wagstaff slow caucus

as surrogate spouse, parent, big brother.

Dictatorial modus operandi foisted

upon trumped up public enemy re: guarding Visigothic, oligopolistic, hedonistic, and cannibalistic adopted heir of vested gentry

meted staked, and yoked fancyfeast sovereignty

intolerant per crowd-sourced

crowing diehard fulminations

denouncing trick air re:

qua hoodwinked treaty against opprobrious, serious

reign of terror breed

ding steely dang LifeLock

self proclaimed deity

czarist gnome whore

to be (habeas corpus) writ

since this anonymous

cloaked drafted ensign gainsays nothing

as one among populous proletariat

bound and gagged if I don't claim

tyranny rigged by bourgeoisie

and get hung drawn and quartered

as a dire warning damning social compact

left to rot in hell as a capital one threatening misfit.

Postscript:

I started with the premise

and idea of constituting

the cult of personality worship,

but found thoughts trotting off

in another direction,

and thus felt obliged

to saddle and pony up to thine

predominant sad dulled end

product te deum!

[heartsaligned]

@heavenslapse | hythlodaeus seeks to learn archery 🏹

      He might have knocked, if he had been feeling particularly charitable, but simply barging in was much more amusing. It almost always was, if he were to be honest. Watching the lines deepen on Emet-Selch's forehead, watching his lips curve into a frown. The inevitable sigh of defeat. If his hair wasn't already stark white Hythlodaeus imagined he would see the roots starting to silver. But no matter how he fussed or complained, Hythlodaeus knew that Emet-Selch enjoyed a bit of company. Perhaps in smaller doses than he was wont to receive, but still. The man couldn't be alone forever.

      More often than not, Hythlodaeus' sudden appearance was a cause for some concern, as he was usually in need of some manner of assistance. At times he simply came by to bring Emet-Selch something to eat, or offer to go and get tea, stretch the legs, or even just talk. But today it was clear by the mischief sparkling in his brilliant lilac eyes that he intended more than just a simple hello. In fact, he looked positively excited, and elected to delve straight into his reason for coming by without so much as a 'how do you do? Lovely day, isn't it?'

      "As you might be aware, I find myself spending more and more time traveling around Elpis, and it's come to my attention just how many areas of the facility are home to--er--shall we say temperamental creatures. If I were alone, I could easily run into trouble, and as I cannot drag you along with me whenever I so choose, I realized I needed a way to defend myself. You know, just in case."

      A pleasant smile played across his lips, his expression belying his true motives. In all honesty, he did need some manner of defense seeing as the creatures on Elpis were not always chaperoned by their creators, and many had been known to break free of their habitats and cause problems. Besides, it seemed most of the others around him had some passing knowledge of combat, and Hythlodaeus found himself wanting the same. However, therein lied the problem.

      "Given my inability to manipulate aether such as yourself, transformation is off the table. Not that I would use such a gauche method of protecting myself, but it would at least be an option. Neither can I produce adequate combat magicks, and considering my physical limitations I knew I would not find a sword very useful. But then I discovered the perfect weapon for myself: a bow and arrow! Even someone of my stature and lack of experience could learn to wield such a thing. Don't you agree?"

      For a moment, he looked proud of himself, as though simply picking up the weapon was half the battle. But if that were the case, then both he and Emet-Selch knew that he would not be standing there in that office, chatting up an old friend about the matter. Certainly he hadn't come by to boast about his achievement. There was far more to his scheme: a pressing need for help.

      "Of course, my flood of excitement soon vanished once I realized I hadn't the foggiest notion of how to begin. Nocking an arrow is much harder than it looks, most surprisingly. But I would hazard a guess that you, our most honorable Emet-Selch would find such a task simple. Mundane, really. So easily done that he might be able to teach another how to do it themselves..."

      As though finding something of terrible import in the office, Hythlodaeus allowed his gaze to oh-so-casually drift away, taking interest in some old book sitting on a nearby shelf. In his mind's eye he could already see the reaction on his friend's face, and from his peripheral vision he could keep a vague eye on him, waiting for the inevitable tirade that would follow such a pronouncement. There wasn't time to be gadding about and shooting arrows. Surely there was some pressing need for Emet-Selch to remain not only firmly in Amaurot, but firmly in his chair, well away from Elpis, its creatures, and everything in between. Hythlodaeus half-wondered what his excuse would be.

      "But perhaps I already ask too much. Quite possibly I should just go about my day. Unprotected. Alone. Maybe I'll even pay a visit to the Hungering Gardens..."

[criciuma]

just saw someone pronouncing 'ghost' wrong (like "gauche")