#I have no idea if my verb tenses in this make sense but I give up

[asco-bisco]

WRITING 101 (NOT REALLY)

1. VERBS

This was a request from ao3. I don’t actually know how to give tips but hopes this helps. Also, my English isn’t the best so just bare with me when I use the wrong terms or don’t make sense.

-

It’s important to let the readers know what the character/s are doing but sometimes, it can be… excessive. In other words, it can be a lot when it’s just “Character A walked over to Character B and blah blah blah” for a whole paragraph. Sure, it’s important to give readers an idea of what is going on but it’s also important to not make it dry.

Past tense or present

One of the important things is making it consistent. You can’t have present tense and past tense in the same paragraph, especially the same sentence.

For example…

“Peter walks to Lucy and told her to clean the dishes.” you need to pick one or the other. Most novels are written in past tense and so are a lot of fics so I recommend it but I’ve read some novels that were written in present tense for the sakes of the story.

Basically, keep it consistent, past tense is used more often than present tense. Future tense isn’t common at all.

2. Don’t make it bland

Having one whole paragraph about people doing things is boring and it can push readers away or keep them unmotivated to keep reading. This shows lack of effort and laziness from the author and would promise a bad story.

Add emotion and scenery too, this is also tips for descriptive and detailed writing. If the reader can feel it, they should stay attached to the story.

“Sally walked into the café, nervous to order something alone. She ended up ordering a black coffee since she felt too pressured to order what she truly wanted.”

It’s… something but not a lot. It isn’t interesting at all either, it just tells we can assume Sally’s a naturally-nervous character who usually orders with other people.

Add some… feeling into it.

“Sally entered the café, the noise hitting her like a truck. It was bustling and loud, full of chatter and movement. The register was opening, cups were being filled, people were just flying past her. She could feel her heart beating against her chest, her hands beginning to swear as her eyes darted around frantically. Her chest was heaving quickly as she quickly made her way to the cashier so she could get her order over with. Her mouth was dry, she could barely manage a word out. The way the cashier looked at her added to the weight on her shoulders and she finally managed to make her order but it… wasn’t the one she wanted.”

It’s longer, sure, but it has more emotion and feeling in it. You could (hopefully) get a sense of what she was feeling and if you really read it, maybe you could also hear what Sally was hearing.

of course, everyone has their own writing style so some might split it into 2 paragraphs or even three and some might keep it as one whole paragraph.

3. There actually isn’t a third rule I could think of but I like odd numbers

Anyway, just have fun with it and everyone is always moving at their own pace. If this helped, I’m glad but if it didn’t, let me know if you have questions or find someone who could probably explain this better…

[glowstone23b]

Today I think I shall gush about my piglin naming system! Inspired by Technoblade :)

Piglin names typically come in three parts, being (attribute)(thing you’re known for)(bastion name). Bastion names are normally used if you’re interacting with anyone outside of your bastion or horde, because goodness knows how many piglins out there are named Gold…

First names are usually a personality trait or something alluding to one, not always literal. Techno was named as such because he’s cool and calculating on the outside, like technology. Flint (my oc, for a second example) was named as such because he’s hardy and dependable.

Second names are given later on in life (some piglins choose not to use them, or never earn them)— these can be a lot of things! Usually it’s a profession, but it can also be a notable event in your life; it’s something people would recognize you for. Techno got the name “blade” because of his prowess with blades in farming and on the battlefield, and Flint got “bairn” for being good with those who are born (animals, but children especially).

Some piglins never end up getting second names, and some don’t associate with a bastion. Those who are outcast or choose to move elsewhere may take up a different name. They also morph with time— if someone becomes more well-known for something after they’d already received a second name, they’d change it to match!

This is the short version, amazingly enough. More under the cut if you’re interested in it! You’ll get a glimpse into how my mind works, lol

First names aren’t given until piglings start to grow their tusks in, around which time their personality shows a lot more. As a baby, they’re given a placeholder name by their parents or caretakers, which can be anything! Typically, it’s from a pool of names that that bastion or horde holds dear, so litters a couple years apart may end up having the same childhood names.

I actually have a list of some names that’d work in one way or another, though not all of them may fit together smoothly. You can likely shift stuff around and add or subtract letters so it rolls off your tongue easier. I mean, technically this is in english, so it’d likely work in the piglin’s spoken language, but hey!

Birth names: Typically some physically defining trait, notable action, or person/idol/role model, given to the piglet shortly after birth. Examples include steve/alex/jean, mud, snow, speckle, leather, squeal, swift, trot, crinkle, crimson, trip/skip, hopper

First names: Typically an object or item, or field of study or important advancement in relation to the piglin’s temperament around 8-12 years of age. Overworld examples are used less frequently, but tend to be given to piglets with exceptional or odd temperaments. Examples include Techno(logy), Flint, Fence, Ash, Ember, Clay, Obsidian (Obi-), Cinder, Gold, Flame, Blaze, Rose, Water, Rust, Cobblestone (Cobble-), Honey

Second names: Typically a thing or descriptor/verb (usually in past tense), given to the piglin after finding something they excel at or become known for. This is usually a word that pertains to multiple aspects of them (as with Techno, ‘blade’ refers to his expertise with bladed items both in battle and cultivation). Examples include Blade, Bairn (born), Char, Forge, Lock, Arrow, Shield, Bloom, Ferrous/Aurous, Brew, Heal, Tame, Craft, Knife, Smith, Saw, Sword, String, Saddle, Spirit, Breath, Grown, Wrought, Torn, Write, Built, Read, Smelt, Bud, Scar

Literally just copy pasted from my notes app so apologies if stuff is repeated or doesn’t make sense! If you guys have piglin name ideas or oc ideas regarding this I will give you a kiss on the forehead, I adore it.

The more I talk about it the more it sounds like how warrior cats name themselves. I know nothing about warrior cats, unfortunately, so I can’t say it holds true, but… I feel like this may be a common thing I worldbuilding. Regardless, I just think it’s neat!

If you are insane about piglins as I am or still relatively sane with a little interest in them, do interact! I’d love to bounce ideas off each other ^^! Also if you got this far I love you and tuck you in all cozy like a snug bug!! Don’t forget to eat and drink today, you deserve it! Okay that’s all for right now! :D

[bestworstcase]

Can you elaborate on what Salem meant with the "[...]when we could replace [these humans] with what they could never be?" bit of your recent post comparing her with Ruby? Because I feel like you either didn't address that or the point sort of flew over my head. Like, what else does she mean by replacing them?

my reading of the line is “why spend our lives trying to redeem these humans [before the gods] when we could replace [the gods]”—ie her proposed alternative to fulfilling the divine mandate is rebellion.

this is something i’ve talked about a lot before (<- if you poke around in my archive you’ll find it pretty easily) but in the essentials my argumentation for this reading is:

first, that “replace the gods” has much stronger congruence with salem’s characterization than does “replace humans.” she founded her rebellion upon the idea of humankind usurping their “old masters” in order to “perfect their own design” and told ozma very directly that they could supplant the brothers. this has been her driving ambition for quite literally millions of years!

in contrast, even now, salem thinks of humanity as “strong, brave, and resourceful,” recounts the discovery of dust as proof of human “passion, resourcefulness, and ingenuity,” calls the capacity for hope humanity’s greatest strength, etc. and she also doesn’t seem to value ancient magic, particularly: she spends V4-5 coaching cinder to “remember that [magic] comes with a cost,” she used dust rather than her own magic to make monstra fly, she leverages her power over the grimm expansively but we can count the number of times she’s used ancient-human-magic on one hand.

the first time ozma came back, he found her living alone in a rotting hovel with a fairly well-maintained path leading right to her doorstep. he heard frightened whispers about a witch who “commanded dark powers” and lived in the wilds, but this was also an era when faunus were hunted down and kept in cages—that’s important context to hold in mind when we evaluate where those stories about salem came from. everything we see in the lost fable suggests that salem just kind of… existed on the outermost fringes of civilization and mostly wanted to be left alone.

so, for salem to express a sudden interest in… what, genocide? some kind of fucked up breeding program using the one of their four daughters who ended up with magic neither salem nor ozma expected her to inherit at all? strikes me as startlingly out of character.

second, that grammatically the line does make sense to read as salem stumbling over her words. the verb ‘redeem’ implies a subject to whom the verb’s object is redeemed. in order for redemption to occur, there needs to be a debt owed to somebody; in this case the creditor is the gods. ozma’s mandate is to redeem humanity on behalf of the gods. reading salem’s meaning as “replace the gods” requires only that she have the implied antecedent of “redeem […] before the gods” in mind. (in much the same way that ruby clearly had jaune’s usage of the phrase “make-believe” in mind when she spat that in his face!) given her long-standing, passionate hatred of the brother gods, i find this much more plausible than not.

and third, salem is profoundly upset in this scene. she’s rattled from the second ozma says “this isn’t what she asked of me.” and while he reveals everything he’s been keeping from her—reveals that the cause she supported on his behalf for years was all secretly in service to the gods who cursed her to eternal suffering and annihilated humanity out of spite—she curls in on herself (arms tightly folded, face tense, leaning back into the desk) but hangs on his every word. she’s upset! she’s pressing it down as hard as she can, but it’s clear that this hits her hard—so it makes sense emotionally that she’s not able to articulate herself with perfect clarity in the moment. and then of course ozma just walks out without asking for clarification or giving her a chance to explain herself, so if she did misspeak it’s not as if she has the opportunity to elaborate.

and then ozma either took her literal words at face value or (i think more likely) heard what she really meant and, forced to choose between staying with her and remaining true to his mandate, chose the mandate.

[mistresslrigtar]

Edited One-Shot - Snowy Recollections

So, I am procrastinating today, and instead of completing the first draft of my Zelink week 2023 Hylink story, Adore (which is so close to being done), I edited an older one-shot of mine that had some glaring verb tense inconsistencies. I also reworked the ending slightly, and I think the story is, overall, better for it.

If anyone is interested in reading or rereading the improved version, you can find it here on Ao3: Snowy Recollections

Excerpt:

Hebra is colder than an ice hinox's toenail, and Link hates it. Perhaps he has only been trekking through the tundra for a week searching for the fourteen shrines hidden in caves, behind drifts, or under icy overhangs that can only be reached by swimming in freezing water, but it feels like months. Some of those ancient Sheikah monks had a sick sense of humor, and it has gotten to the point that Link dreads hearing the Shrine sensor's ping on the Sheikah slate. He'd been relieved when it had fallen silent, and after spending an extra two days checking any locations that looked like potential shrine sites and tracking down a Stalhorse for a bossy lady he had met at the Snowfield Stable, he is sure he has cleared the area.

So, while he may have honed a few of his physical and mental abilities and learned a new trick or two in ways to use the Sheikah slate, he is disappointed he has not uncovered any new memories to add to the paltry few he has. Some small part of him had hoped his reward for nearly freezing to death would be another recollection to add to his mind's gaping, empty maw. During the day, when he is busy fighting monsters and figuring out the shrine puzzles, it is easy to forget that he has no idea who he is. But at night, when he sits shivering by a lonely campfire, he has nothing to do but sift through the blackness of his thoughts, trying to dredge up a spark of memory. He stares at the pictures left on the slate, hoping one will trigger something each time. It never happens; they remain merely pictures of landscapes, statues, and crumbling ruins without meaning. 

Meandering through the territories of Hyrule has been a frustrating and lonely experience thus far. It is sparsely populated, with civilization and beings that aren’t monsters, few and far between. When he had awakened just a few weeks ago to a desperate woman's voice begging him to wake up and rescue her, he'd spurred into action without a second thought. And the ghost of the old lumberjack nee King Rhoam, whom he had run into mere hours later, had also implored him to go on a quest to save the woman. Her name, Link discovered, was Zelda, and she also happened to be Rhoam's daughter and, therefore, a princess. A princess he can’t even remember depends on him to save her and her kingdom. 

So little information to go on, and they trust him with his addled brain to put together pieces of a puzzle that make little sense to him. Surely there is someone with all their cognitive abilities intact who is better suited for the job. He still has not figured out how he connects with this world, and some nights the task ahead of him seems so daunting he wonders if it is even worth it. Then guilt washes over Link, and a voice at the back of his head admonishes him for even entertaining the notion. He is not a quitter and may not remember much, but something deep inside tells him he never gives up, no matter how bad the odds may be stacked against him.

[spanishskulduggery]

this one is very hard for me to look up so hopefully you might have an answer; why is it that in spanish, some verbs have a pronoun appended to the end of them sometimes? so, for example, "tú empezaste una clase nueva". is my brain just noticing a trend that's not actually there for past tense?? thank you!! 🙏

That's not actually an object pronoun, that's just preterite tense forms for tú - specifically -ar verbs; it would be -iste for -er and -ir verbs, but it's not a te exactly

You're not wrong for noticing a pattern, but it isn't an object pronoun that's the conjugation pattern itself. Conjugations do tend to follow patterns you are right in that sense; in Spanish for example a conjugation ending in N normally indicates 3rd person plural "they" or ustedes

At least in Spanish, a lot of the patterns for conjugation (and some of the irregular forms) are taken largely from Latin. Someone who studies Latin and the Romance Languages can probably give more information but what you're seeing is Romance linguistics

This makes sense since Spanish originated as a form of Vulgar Latin. Vulgar Latin is a really broad term though, it just means "the kind of Latin the everyday people spoke" as opposed to more classical or ecclesiastical Latin. The different Vulgar Latin dialects eventually split into the Romance Languages... so what started as fabulare in Latin came to be fablar in Old Spanish, then eventually turned to hablar

And with it came different conjugations - but it is reasonable to assume that the pronouns themselves did influence the object pronouns, at least in part.

As an example yo came from eo in Vulgar Latin which came from ego in classical Latin. But even in Latin, it was related to meus or mi "my", which likely influenced me as the object pronoun. However, you're not going to see a -me attached to any conjugations in Spanish unless it's an actual object pronoun (and often in a command like dime "tell me" or dame "give me")

It would just be disingenuous to say that the Spanish language decided to do this specifically when it was the result of centuries of linguistics rather than a conscious decision

Additionally:

In other tenses you may see a -se attached to a word but it isn't reflexive

As an example - and this is fairly intermediate/advanced; hablase is imperfect subjunctive of hablar, or specifically it's ONE of those forms - the other being hablara where hablase is more common in Spain. But they go hablase, hablases, hablase, hablasen, hablásemos, hablaseis [or hablara, hablaras, hablara, hablaran, habláramos, hablarais]

-

hablar

yo -> hablé tú -> hablaste 3ra persona singular -> habló 3ra persona plural -> hablaron nosotros -> hablamos vosotros -> hablasteis

comer

yo -> comí tú -> comiste 3ra persona singular -> comió 3ra persona plural -> comieron nosotros -> comimos vosotros -> comisteis

vivir

yo -> viví tú -> viviste 3ra persona singular -> vivió 3ra persona plural -> vivieron nosotros -> vivimos vosotros -> vivisteis

You are right in noticing that the tú forms end in -aste and -iste, and that vosotros [which is used in Spain but is considered the plural of tú] is the same general idea just pluralized a bit -asteis and -isteis

It's not an object however, it's just part of conjugation, though conjugation doesn't always happen by chance so it's possible you're onto something - but usually tú forms tend to end in -s in other tenses; while vosotros usually ends in an -ais or -eis, or -is of some kind

But even so you will see object pronouns used with preterite

¿Te diste cuenta? = Did you realize? / Did you figure it out? [from darse cuenta "to realize" or "to have a realization"] Te dormiste. = You fell asleep. [dormirse "to go to sleep" or "to fall asleep"] Te despertaste a las siete. = You woke up at seven. [despertarse "to wake up"]

I would say you're kind of in the right general area, but a bit off

This is actually something you'd want to look into the linguistics of grammatical conjugation, though if you look into Spanish conjugation you're probably going to find a lot of things leading back to Latin

[sinuheminem]

last post for awhile; this is an essay i wrote for my AP Lang class, about

recursive language’s role in defining language

i wrote a post about this earlier but this is a lot better researched

i am not a reliable source of information. sources in the replies

Humans have a bit of a superiority complex. Between our own species’s social structure and how we interact with other animals, we tend to think that each of us is better, or the best. In fact, 40,000 years ago, homo sapiens killed off the rest of the human species, making us the top of the food chain (Perry.) If asked, many people will say that our ability to speak is what gives us this superiority; our language. However, every species has their own way of communicating, which can be very complex. So what makes human language different from other species’s languages? The most supported idea at present is that complex grammar and recursion are what separates us from other species.

In the context of human versus animal languages, we must define complex grammar. Britannica defines grammar as the “rules of a language governing the sounds, words, sentences, and other elements, as well as their combination and interpretation.” Grammar is an essential part of language, allowing words to accumulate meaning and form more cohesive thoughts. For example, a bird’s mating call is not capable of carrying the same meaning that Franklin D. Roosevelt’s speeches did. This is mostly the work of our ability to use complex grammar. While animals may understand sounds that are assigned to ideas or things, they can’t form verb tenses or prepositions – in fact, human languages are distinct for their ability to talk about past or present, and spaces we can’t see. This also gives us the ability to talk about fiction.

According to Chomsky, there are two main categories of grammar, that being phrase-structure grammar (PSG) and finite-structure grammar (FSG). For example, PSG uses an A1A2A3B3B2B1, where the ideas A1, A2, and A3 are repeated by the subsequent B3, B2, and B1. FSG uses the structure A1B1A2B2, where the ideas A1 and A2 are repeated by the subsequent B1 and B2. Eran Asoulin demonstrates these structures with the sentence “The agent saw the man with binoculars.” In PSG, “The agent (A1) who has binoculars (B1) saw (A2) the man (B2).” In FSG, “The agent (A1) saw (B1) the man (A2) who has binoculars (B2).” These two classes of grammar make up the syntax of most, if not all, human languages. Humans can linguistically understand both structures, but not animals; “nonhumans are in a sense stuck in their attempt to interpret patterns based on phrase structure grammars, for they attempt to interpret such patterns on the basis of finite state grammars, which is not possible” (Asoulin, 1).

The defining character that binds FSG and PSG is recursion; the idea that human language has the ability to refer to one idea in another set of ideas. For example, in an A1A2A3B3B2B1 sequence, A1 is repeated by B1, A2 is repeated by B2 and A3 is repeated by B3. Noam Chomsky developed what is called the recursion-only hypothesis, which identifies “that (human language faculties are) restricted to a simple but powerful recursive mapping capability by definition, unique to humans and unique to the language faculty” (Chomsky et al.). Recursion is the main lacking value of non-human verbal languages that limits them from communicating on the same level that humans do. In fact, all human language uses recursion, and the cognitive functions required for using language such as decision making, syntax, and grammar are only present or developed in humans. While it’s clear that animals can understand single words or sounds, due to pattern recognition, they lack the ability to comprehend full sentences due to the absence of recursion.

While animals like songbirds have consistent calls and sounds that mean specific things, they lack the ability to use recursive grammar. This was tested with a group of European starlings by exposing them to phonemes in AAABBB and ABAB sequences. “Here we used eight ‘rattle’ and eight ‘warble’ motifs to create complete ‘languages’ (4,096 sequences) for two distinct grammars: a context-free grammar of the form A2B2 that entails recursive centre-embedding, and a finite-state grammar of the form AB2 that does not” (Gentner et al.). If the birds pecked when correct sequences were uttered, they could identify complex grammar. Nine out of eleven starlings somewhat consistently identified incorrect and correct sequences. This seems to imply that animals outside of homo sapiens are capable of understanding complex grammar, and therefore capable of understanding complex language. The research itself propelled the idea that, if not able to use it, starlings were at least able to learn the basics of PSG and FSG grammar. However, a later group of researchers noticed that the birds seemed to only incorrectly identify sequences if they started with two A’s or when an A is followed by a B and an ; “critics of the starling research have noted that birds could pass the discrimination test without actually computing the embeddings or keeping track of long-distance dependencies” (Traxler et al.). This means that the starlings were not identifying the grammatical function, but they were counting. Since counting is not part of the cognitive functions required for speaking using complex grammar, the study finalized the recursion-only hypothesis.

Animals were ruled out as subjects for learning complex grammar. However, it was necessary to ensure that the recursion-only hypothesis was applicable to all human languages. This is where the Pirahã language becomes particularly interesting. The language has only been studied by one researcher, and is only spoken by about 300 hunter-gatherers in Brazil. When researched, the Pirahã language seems to lack any form of recursion (Traxler et al.). Traxler uses an example sentence; instead of saying “Give me the nails that Dan bought,” which follows a Pirahã speaker would say “Give me the nails. Dan bought the nails. They are the same.” The existence of a human language that doesn’t utilize recursion would defy the recursion-only hypothesis.

Pirahã became a hot topic in linguistics; how could recursion define grammar if some human languages don’t use it? Furthermore, if recursion is not the defining feature of human language, then what is? The possibility that Chomsky could have been wrong created a chasm in the linguistic world; Chomsky’s dedicated haters were affirmed, and his followers were left with a lot to consider. Some scientists postulated that the speakers of Pirahã were compromised cognitively, and as a result, their language was less advanced. The absence of recursion had been attributed to “aspects of the broad language faculty. Specifically, they claim that Pirahã speakers lack the working memory capacity necessary to compute recursion” (Traxler et al.). This assertion raises questions about psycholinguistics, and how our mental capabilities shape the human language. As always, the answer to these questions likely lies in recursion.

The recursion-only hypothesis doesn’t end at grammar. Noam Chomsky built his theory off of the basis of the narrow language faculty (FLN) and the broad language faculty (FLB). The FLB includes processes like decision making, which are vital for survival but aren’t understood to be the basis of language (Chomsky et al.). The FLN includes those most basic foundations of language, and these processes are exclusive to humans. The most important character of the FLN is recursion, which to our knowledge defines language and the FLN as we know it. If recursion is denied as the basis of human language, these faculties are also denied, and language itself remains undefined.

Fortunately, Chomsky came to save the day; he determined that although Pirahã does not express overt recursion in the spoken language, the cognitive abilities – including recursion – that are required for language are all there, and are mentally in use if not overtly (Traxler et al.). This means that both the FLB and FLN processes are in use, but not displayed in verbal language. He also disputes the idea that Pirahã speakers are less advanced, pointing out that their culture lies in strict empiricism, and the lack of overt recursion is a continuation of their avoidance of assumptions. With all of this in mind, Chomsky reminds researchers that Pirahã speakers are not lesser than humans due to their unique language, and maintains recursion as the main component of human language.

Language has gone through a plethora of stages, and with it has come a million definitions. At present, our definition of language lies in two main ideas; grammar and recursion. Empirical research has demonstrated time and time again that human language is scientifically separate from animal language, including studies on the human language itself. We can finalize all of this research into the FLB and FLN categories, in which our defining character of human language lies; recursion.

[electric-english]

Orality as an articulating axis and practices involving Educational Technologies

I'm thrilled to welcome you to my 4th post here on Electric English! Thank you for being interested in my posts :) Today we'll discuss orality in the English classroom. This is my second favorite competency to work with my students (the 1st one's reading), so I hope you enjoy my input!

During my childhood and teenage years, I've always loved the elements of conversation, speaking and listening. There's so much fun involved in getting to know a person better, and at the same time expressing your opinions about a topic. Conversation allows us to change and to be changed!

"A oralidade como pilar linguístico-discursivo central baseado na interação deve abarcar recursos que propiciem a conversação entre os pares, elemento crucial no aprimoramento individual e social. Efetivamente, o uso da língua constitui a própria dinâmica humana inserida nos contextos sociais." (BORBA;CAMARGO, 2023)

Still, in elementary school the classes didn't have so many orality abilities being worked on, it was only in high school that my teacher started to work on that competency with my class. We listened to music and had "fill in the blanks" activities, where we worked on vocabulary and verb tenses.

Nowadays, my students are very worried about their orality skills, so I've been learning new ways to work those in a more interactive and fun way because, in my opinion, that's the most effective way to improve their listening and speaking abilities.

BNCC's guidelines have been extremely helpful in that sense since they give me a general idea of what my students should be learning when it comes to orality. One of these competencies describes that teachers should make sure that the students are learning how to pick up meaning, pronunciation, and conflict-solving in English.

In my last Oficina class, I got to review some of the technological tools I already knew for working orality in English, such as BBC's English podcasts, British Council's listening activities, and conversation apps.

Another website that I really like to use with my students is lingua.com, it is mostly free, and has many audios for students to practice their listening abilities.

Comment below your own experience with orality in the English classroom, and let me know if you enjoyed today's post!

Stay electric, teacher! ⚡

[strixcattus]

I'm just poking through some of my abandoned conlang stuff, and aside from the evil English spelling reform I devised last year, the one that really piques my interest is this conlang, almost immediately abandoned after creating it, called... I can't tell whether it's supposed to be styled SheizeN or sheizeN. It looks like it was intended to have a syllabary with two characters reserved for coda consonants, so I'm not sure why such styling was necessary... but I'll give it to past me, it looks really cool.

(After Googling the name to see if it happened to mean anything somewhere, the only entry that was spelled the same came from Urban Dictionary. Apparently it's also somewhat similar to a vulgar word in German.)

So sheizeN has a couple odd features. I'm pretty sure it arose from my finding a list of bad conlang ideas and deciding to play with a couple of them. For one, verbs are preceded by a word which agrees with "tense, aspect, and absolutive class" and denotes whether the absolutive argument deserves what is happening to it (or, if the verb is negated, whether it would have deserved what would have happened if the verb wasn't negated).

(There's also a perplexing plural suffix that references a verb suffix that in turn references the class ergative suffix, like some sort of phonological ouroboros, and I swear it can only end in stacking the same suffix on top of itself, which can't be legal.)

SheizeN also has a noun class system. Each of its thirteen noun classes is based on a Dungeons and Dragons class, and they actually seem to work pretty well. For instance, the Bard class encompasses all art forms and related words, Druid encompasses plants, fungi, and animals not covered by other classes, Paladin encompasses abstract qualities and forms of speech, and so on. Nouns are formed by combining a short root with a prefix for the class, so the same root can belong to multiple words that may be thematically similar in some way, but have very different meanings.

I'd like to share one of these with you, out of the six words I ever created for sheizeN. The word for "prince" is shoko, a Fighter-class word (Weapons, beasts of burden, and humans not otherwise specified) with the prefix sho- and the root -ko. With me so far? Good.

The root -ko happens to be included in two other words. One of these is the Paladin-class word sheiko, meaning "honor." Tangentially related, I suppose. It does make a sort of sense.

Then we have the third -ko word. This one is a Ranger-class noun—which encompasses people and animals that stalk some sort of prey. The translation of this word isn't as clear-cut as the other two—it's listed as "one searching for something abstract."

So, what is this word?

The prefix for Ranger-class nouns happens to be zu-. Which makes the word, well...

Zuko.

[ohmyjinsus]

everything has changed

lee heeseung x gender neutral! reader

a non idol! enemies to friends to lovers au || 4.6k

I’ve had this sitting around for a while now and in honour of the comeback today I feel like I should finally share it with the world 🥺

so I want to watch squid game but I’m too scared to watch it alone and I have no one to watch it with so I decided to write about it … also idk if these plot points are right, I’m just guessing based on what I’ve seen on twitter

summary: you and your best friend heeseung decide to watch squid game, but when it makes you a little bit too scared, he’s a bit too affectionate with you, and you start to wonder if maybe your feelings for him are reciprocated ….

“What should we watch tonight?” You and Heeseung just finished a drama a few days ago, so now it’s time to find something new. Everything on Netflix sucks though.

“Squid Game?” He suggests, walking into the living room. “Soobin said it’s good.”

“Hell no.” You respond right away. “What does Soobin know anyway?”

“Are you scared, y/n?” Heeseung’s smirking at you.

“No,” you lie, “I just think something romantic might be nicer.” You gesture towards the TV, where you’re looking at the romcoms section.

Your best friend pretends to throw up, making you roll your eyes. You could never watch something overly romantic in his presence anyway. You would lose your mind.

When you met Heeseung in high school, you hated him. You were always top of your class, then suddenly this random boy shows up in junior year and takes your place. He immediately became your rival, even though you never really spoke to him.

But then, in senior year, you went through an extremely rough time. You’d planned on going to your dream university for ages, but they turned you down. That had never even been a possibility in your mind. With your grades and involvement in extra-curriculars, you figured you’d be a shoo-in.

Heeseung was the first to notice something was off. In every class you had together, you were the top 2 students. Usually you’d be tied for perfect, but sometimes your grades would be different by a few marks. After you were rejected, your grades dropped a little bit. You didn’t think anyone would notice.

Towards the end of first semester, you were in the library alone, trying to study for your chem exam. All your friends were discussing their college plans and acceptance letters. You’d excused yourself quickly, making up some random reason to leave. You wound up in the corner of the library, trying not to cry.

It was your spare period, so no one else was around. That’s why you were shocked when Heeseung showed up and asked to sit with you. You were so miserable and out of it that you just nodded.

After about 10 minutes of staring at your textbook, not absorbing anything, Heeseung asked if you were okay. You glanced at him, saying yes of course, but he asked again. He said he noticed you’d been off recently, and if there was something going on, you could talk to him.

You started crying immediately. Heeseung didn’t judge you when you told him what was on your mind. He just sat and listened while you vented. You couldn’t tell anyone close to you, but with him, it was okay. He knew what was it was like to have to be perfect all the time. You’d never even had a full conversation before, but suddenly, you felt some sort of affection towards him.

After that, the two of you started studying together every day. You had the same spare period, so it only made sense. And it gave you a good reason to get away from your friends. Hearing them going on and on about college was driving you insane. With Heeseung, you could get away from it for a while.

Over time, you and Heeseung began talking about other things, and found out you had a lot in common. Both of you had applied to some of the same universities. Your second choice was his first choice. As soon as you got your acceptance letters, you said yes right away. Without even thinking about it, the two of you had become best friends.

When you found out you’d be living in the same residence come September, you were happy for the first time in forever. Maybe your college experience wouldn’t be terrible after all.

You should have realized then that you had a crush on him. It took you another few months to clue in, and it’s been driving you crazy ever since. You’re in your second year of university now, but you can’t bring yourself to say anything. After all you’ve been through, you could never risk your friendship like that.

“I mean,” Heeseung says, grabbing the remote from you. “We could always play rock paper scissors and decide like that.”

“It’s fine,” you tell him, rolling your eyes. “We can watch your horror show, as long as I can stay the night.”

“Sure, I don’t mind sleeping on the couch.” You’re surprised he doesn’t make fun of you for being such a wimp. “Do you want a snack or something before I put it on?” You shake your head, so he presses play on the first episode.

It’s not so bad at first. The storyline is actually quite interesting. And when you glance over at Heeseung, he seems engrossed in the show. You can put up with it for his sake.

But then someone gets shot. You didn’t see that coming at all. The noise makes you jump.

“You good?” Heeseung asks, pausing it. You nod. You know he would turn it off in a heartbeat if you asked, but you’re okay for now.

He presses play again. A few seconds later, there’s a shot of a woman with blood on her face. He must hear you gasp, because he moves closer to you on the couch. You’re too focused on the screen to pay attention to him right now.

As the episode goes on, you become more interested in the story. A while later, there’s another scary scene. It’s not as bad as the last one, but you still reach for Heeseung’s hand without even thinking.

He lets you take it, intertwining his fingers with yours. Your brain gets frazzled for a minute, but you make sure to focus on the show, not him. If you think about how you’re touching Heeseung right now, you’ll go insane. You don’t think you’ve ever held hands before, but you push that thought out of your mind.

There’s another gory part later on, which makes both of you scared. Heeseung squeezes your hand, which makes you smile to yourself.

Towards the end, things get really violent. When you see blood onscreen, you immediately look away, turning towards Heeseung. Your forehead is resting against his shoulder. He tenses under you, pausing the show again.

“Should I turn it off?” He asks quietly, pulling away so he can look at you. “We can watch something else.”

You glance back at the TV. “How much is left?” He presses the button.

“2 minutes.”

“You can watch it,” you tell him. “I won’t look.”

As he presses play, you turn to face him on the couch. He takes his hand out of yours, wrapping his arm around you instead. He pulls you closer, so you wrap your arms around his neck, resting your head on his shoulder, looking away from the TV. You can hear screaming from the show, but you block it out, breathing in Heeseung instead. His hand on your back is extremely distracting anyway.

“It’s over,” he says a short while later. “You can look now.”

As you let go of him and move away, he keeps his arm around you.

“Should we watch episode 2?”

“Shut up,” he laughs. “I can watch it by myself. I won’t subject you to that again.”

“You got scared too.” You hit his chest, playfully.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You roll your eyes, but you’re both smiling.

“Are you okay though?” He asks, his voice low. You suddenly realize he’s still touching you. You can feel him tracing circles on your back.

“I’m good,” you say, almost breathless. “I just can’t get that woman out of my mind.”

“Do you want to watch something else to take your mind off of it?” You shake your head. You know you won’t be able to pay attention, especially if Heeseung doesn’t let go of you.

“You can distract me.”

“Okay,” he replies. “Let’s do our business readings.”

“Nooooo.” Heeseung laughs at your reaction. “It’s like 1:30, my brain can’t do that right now.”

“Are you tired?”

“A little bit,” you admit. “I don’t want to go to sleep though. I want to stay up with you.”

The way his face lights up almost makes your heart stop. That seems like a pretty intense reaction for someone who just considers you a friend.

“You can see me tomorrow,” he tells you. “If you’re sleepy, you should sleep.”

“Oh my god Heeseung,” you say sarcastically. “You’re so smart.”

“I know.” You want to smack that smirk off his face.

“Are you tired?”

“By the time I get you into bed, I will be.” He lets go of you, getting up. “Come on.”

You follow him down the hall, to his room. You already have a toothbrush of your own from other times you’ve stayed the night, so he gets you a big shirt of his and some shorts to sleep in. While he grabs his things, you head to the bathroom to sort yourself out.

When you come back, Heeseung’s cleared his nightstand for you.

“I left my charger there,” he points to the power bar near his bed. “I thought you might need it.”

“Thanks.” You leave your clothes on top of his desk chair.

“I have to come back for a pillow, but after that I’ll leave you alone.”

You hesitate for a second, wondering if you should say what’s in your head. You decide to do it.

“Stay.” His eyes go wide. “Your bed’s a double, after all.”

“Are you sure?” You nod, sitting down and plugging your phone in to charge.

“The couch isn’t comfortable,” you say. “Don’t torture yourself like that.”

“You’re just scared to be on your own now, right?” You know he’s teasing you, but you can’t help but blush.

“You’re scared too!” Heeseung rolls his eyes, but he nods, agreeing to stay with you.

He disappears, going to get his things back from the living room. You tuck yourself in, scrolling through your phone while you wait for Heeseung to get into bed. You’ve thought about falling asleep next to him countless times, but now that it’s actually going to happen, you’re trying not to lose your cool. You can’t make it obvious that you’re in love with him. This is totally platonic.

But then again, he did hold you pretty tightly earlier. Maybe it’s not platonic after all.

You push that thought away as Heeseung comes back. He doesn’t say too much as he crawls into bed next to you. You try to focus on your phone anyway, you don’t want to risk saying something completely stupid.

After a few minutes, you ask if it’s okay to turn off the light.

“Go for it,” Heeseung says, laying down. “Goodnight y/n.”

“Goodnight.”

As soon as you close your eyes, you realize how truly tired you are. Maybe your best friend was onto something. It doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep.

However, your dream suddenly turns dark. You imagine yourself in Squid Game, seeing all that gore up close and firsthand. Thankfully, your mind wakes you up and your eyes snap open.

You sit up right away, trying to remember where you are.

Heeseung’s bed. Right.

You glance over at him, realizing you might have woken him up. When you see his eyes fluttering open, you curse. Mainly because you don’t want him to make fun of you for having a nightmare about this.

“y/n, what’s up?” He mumbles in the dark.

“Nothing.” Your voice is still shaking. You take a deep breath. “I just had a nightmare.”

“About Squid Game?”

“Yes.”

“Are you okay?” The way he says it makes your heart melt. His voice is so soft, and he sounds so concerned for you. You’re about to answer, when he places his hand on your arm. “Come here.”

You lay back down so you’re face to face with him.

“I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“It’s okay,” he responds. “What happened? Was it the blood?”

“I think so.” When you shudder, Heeseung pulls you towards him.

“Talk to me until you feel better.”

“Okay.”

Neither of you say anything. He’s looking directly into your eyes, and it’s making you slightly nervous. You wonder if he feels the same.

You’re close enough that you can hear him breathing. Subconsciously, your breaths have synced with his. It’s freakishly calming. And you’re hyperaware of how your legs are tangled together. You know this is dangerous, but you can’t look away and break the moment.

It would be so easy to just lean in and kiss him-

You don’t even realize you’ve lifted your hand until you feel Heeseung’s hair between your fingers. Thankfully, he hasn’t jumped away from you. You let your fingers trail down his neck before resting your hand against his chest.

“You okay?” His voice is so shaky. You’re glad it’s dark so he can’t see you blushing.

“Yes,” you tell him, trying to snap out of your thoughts. “I can’t fall asleep with you staring at me like that though.”

“Sorry.”

You awkwardly move your hand away, back to your side. Once you’ve dropped it, Heeseung rolls over so he’s facing away from you and the moment’s gone.

“Is that better?” He asks in the darkness.

“Sure.”

You roll over so you’re facing opposite directions. You close your eyes but you can’t get Heeseung’s face out of your mind. Part of you is convinced you should have just kissed him. Who knows when you’ll get another chance?

You’re drifting off to sleep when you feel him roll over again.

“y/n?” He sounds tired.

“Yes?”

“You were right.”

“About what?” You turn over so you can face him. He makes eye contact with you in the dark.

“I’m still thinking about stupid Squid Game.” You can’t help but laugh.

“My poor baby,” you whisper, running your hand through his hair again. You definitely notice the way he gets flustered. “What do you need?”

“I don’t know.” You roll your eyes. “Can I hold you?”

You swear your heart stops. There’s no way you could have heard him properly. He wouldn’t ask you something like that, you’re just friends. Friends don’t cuddle.

“Sorry-”

“No,” you cut him off. He raises his eyebrows. “I mean, yes. I just-”

“You’re so cute.”

“Don’t say that,” you respond, right away. “You’re making me feel things.”

“Sorry,” he says quietly. When you roll over, he wraps his arm around you. “Goodnight, y/n.”

“Goodnight,” you take his hand in yours. “For real this time.”

You can feel him laughing behind you as you close your eyes. The feeling of his chest rising and falling against your back helps you fall asleep again.

Just when you’re about to fall asleep for good, you feel Heeseung place a kiss on your shoulder. At first you think you’re imagining things, but then his arm tightens around you.

You smile to yourself, hoping you’ll dream of him.

=======

You don’t know what time it is when you wake up, and you’re too scared to check. Heeseung’s still holding onto you, his arm wrapped around your shoulders. You’re cuddled up to him as well, your head on his chest.

You still can’t believe this happened, but you’re so incredibly happy to even be in his arms. It’s better not to question it too much.

You close your eyes, pretending to be asleep. Both of you have class in the afternoon, so you’re in no rush to get out of bed. The longer you can stay here, the better.

A while later, you feel Heeseung wake up. You lift your head, opening your eyes so you can look at him. When he makes eye contact with you, he smiles.

“Hey y/n.” You’re so screwed. His morning voice is the most attractive thing you’ve ever heard. Yes, you’ve heard Heeseung sing before, but this has you even weaker.

“Hi.” It’s like you’ve forgotten every word in the English language. When he runs his fingers through your hair, you’re afraid you might spontaneously combust.

“What time is it?” You reach over him, grabbing your phone from the nightstand.

“11.” Heeseung groans, closing his eyes. “We’ve got an hour till we have to go listen to Prof Martin go on about solvency ratios.”

“Can we just stay here?” It’s the we that makes you blush.

“As much as I would like to,” you hesitate.

“Yes, y/n?” Heeseung sits up, so he’s right next to you. Without even thinking, you rest your head on his shoulder. His hand finds yours, interlocking your fingers. You’re tempted to kiss the back of his hand, but you push it out of your mind. You’re already in dangerous territory, it’s best not to make it worse.

“Solvency ratios.” His shoulder shakes as he laughs. “I don’t understand them, and I don’t want to be lost in class.”

“Are you asking me for help?” You pull away so you can look at him.

“God no,” he’s smirking at you. “I’m perfectly capable of figuring it out on my own.”

Heeseung takes your phone. “You only have 55 minutes.” He holds it up so you can see the time.

“Damn it.” You let go of him and take your phone back, getting out of bed. He watches as you head over to his closet to grab a sweater. “I’m stealing this,” you tell him, holding up one of his favourites. You expect him to say no, but he just nods.

“It’ll look cute on you.”

You ignore the warm feeling in your chest, grabbing your other clothes and heading to the bathroom.

Once you’re done, you go back to Heeseung’s room. He’s up as well, scrolling through his phone. When he notices you, he glances up.

“What if we skipped?” You freeze. “What?”

“Lee Heeseung,” you try to sound stern. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yes.” He smiles. “We can teach ourselves. I don’t want to sit in a lecture hall for 3 hours.”

“Ugh,” you roll your eyes. “The whole point of skipping is to do something fun.”

“Studying with me isn’t fun?” You avoid his eyes. It's always insanely difficult to focus when you're studying with him.

His existence in itself is distracting. The way he fiddles with his pens, the way he hums under his breath, the way he looks up and smiles at you every once in a while, or the way he sits next to you when you’re really confused about something. Being so close to him makes you even more confused. How has he not noticed by now?

“Shut up.” You pick up your phone from the bed. “I’ll get us some food.”

“Take my keys.” You nod, grabbing those from his nightstand and stuffing them in your pocket.

“I’ll be back in ten.”

You take the stairs down to the lobby and head outside. There’s a locally owned coffee shop right next door to your building, so it doesn’t take you long to get there. Thankfully it’s not too busy. You order your usual drinks, and get some muffins for breakfast.

Not even ten minutes later, you’re back in Heeseung’s dorm, sitting on the floor eating. The two of you talk about the rest of your classes, making sure you’re caught up on coursework. He’s a little confused about something in your human rights class, so you decide to go over it together after you finish your business work.

After you eat, you clean up, while Heeseung runs back to his room to grab some stuff. When you’re finished, you sit on the couch, checking your phone again. Your business class should be starting in about 5 minutes. You’re so glad you aren’t going.

“Okay, let’s do this.” Heeseung drops his textbook on the coffee table. The sound makes both of you jump. “Whoops.”

“Do we have to?”

“We’re skipping class,” he says, opening his notebook. You would make fun of him for being so organized, but the two of you study the same way. You picked up each other’s habits in high school. “The least we could do is our readings.”

You groan, sliding down on the couch. “Can’t we just go back to sleep? Your bed is so comfy.”

“Stop it y/n.”

“Why can’t you be like Jake?” Heeseung flips through the textbook, trying to find the right page. “Remember when he did shots with me before our psych exam?”

“Right, because being drunk during an exam is a great idea.”

“First of all, it’s not my fault you’re a lightweight,” he throws his pen at you. It lands somewhere on the couch. “And second of all, Jake and I did better than you; maybe you could learn a thing or two.”

“What if I buy you dinner?” He asks. “Will you shut up and study with me then?” You take a second to think about it.

“Give me the stupid book.”

Sadly, you do have to ask Heeseung to explain solvency ratios to you. All the calculations make your head hurt, so he sits next to you on the couch and helps you work through the practice questions. At some point, you put your head on his shoulder, too lost in his explanation to realize you’re doing it.

You still feel nervous, but you feel a little bit better than yesterday. If anything, he seems flustered this time, sneaking glances at you when you’re taking notes. You pretend not to notice.

The two of you get through your work within an hour. You would never admit it, but you do appreciate how Heeseung helps keep you on task. If you were on your own, it would have taken you over twice as long.

“I don’t know why you hated me so much in high school,” he says, closing the textbook. “I’m such a good influence.”

“Hated?” You ask. “I never hated you.”

“Don’t lie y/n.” You smirk, putting his pens away.

“Maybe a little bit,” you admit. “But only at first. You grew on me after about a month.”

“Good.” Heeseung’s smiling at you.

“Wait, did you hate me?” He shakes his head right away.

“You were just really intimidating. Cute, but intimidating.”

“Cute how?” Heeseung’s eyes go wide. “You’ve said it like 5 times in the past 24 hours, you need to explain yourself.”

“Remember when we got our test results and you’d come over to me right away to compare?” You nod, cringing at your past self.

“Unfortunately.” You turn to face him on the couch, crossing your legs. He does the same thing.

“Your face would literally light up when you found out you did better than me.”

“I was so pretentious.” He shakes his head, smiling at you.

“It was cute.” You’re surprised he’s saying it again.

“I’m glad you think so.” You take his hand, interlacing your fingers again. It feels so natural at this point.

“I used to get questions wrong on purpose,” he says, avoiding your eyes.

“I’m sorry, what?” You blink.

“On every test, I would always make sure to answer one question wrong so that you’d get a higher mark than me.”

“You clown,” the two of you make eye contact. “Why would you do that?”

“I told you,” he squeezes your hand. "I like seeing you smile.”

“Idiot,” you whisper. “Why am I so in love with you?”

“You’re what?” Now Heeseung’s the one who looks shocked.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, pulling your hand away from his. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

“Do you mean it?” He asks quietly.

“Yes.” You can’t look at him. You’ve thought about confessing before, but you never thought you would do it like this. You can’t believe how stupid you are.

While you’re scrambling to come up with an explanation, Heeseung reaches over to tuck your hair behind your ear. You turn your attention to him, but you can’t read his facial expression. You wish you knew what he was thinking.

“Heeseung,” you whisper. You’re inches away from each other.

“I really want to kiss you right now.”

You close the distance between the two of you. Before you even get the chance, Heeseung’s lips are on yours. You grab the collar of his shirt, holding him close.

It’s messy. You’ve been waiting for this for so long, you can’t hide your excitement. Judging by the way Heeseung’s kissing you back, you have a feeling it’s the same for him.

When you finally pull away, both of you are breathing heavily. When you see him smiling at you, you can’t help but pull him in for another kiss.

“In case you couldn’t tell,” he says, leaning back to look at you, “I’m in love with you too.”

“Am I dreaming?” You whisper, only partially joking. He laughs, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“Nope,” he takes your hands in his. “My love for you is very very real.”

“Love?” You can’t help but blush at the word.

“Yeah,” he smiles. “I love you y/n.”

“Say it again.” You’re so giddy. Your heart is pounding out of your chest and your mind is doing backflips, but you’ve never been more happy.

“Say what again?” Heeseung’s messing with you now.

“That you love me.”

“Oh,” he says, kissing your cheek. “I love you. I have for a long time.”

“How long?” You can’t help but ask.

“End of grade 11.” Your eyes go wide. “Yes, that long.” He looks amused. “How long has it been for you?”

“What do you mean?” You decide to wind him up too.

“How long have you loved me, y/n?” He sounds so cute, you can’t help but kiss him again.

“I never said I loved you.”

“But you do.” He says it like it’s a fact.

“I do,” you whisper, running a hand through his hair. “I love you so much.”

It’s so easy to say. Loving Heeseung is as natural as breathing at this point. You almost want to say that, but you don’t want to be too cheesy.

“Good.”

“Why didn’t we realize this sooner?” You ask.

“We’re idiots.” You can’t help but laugh at that. “But it’s okay. We have tons of time now.”

“Maybe you have a point.”

“Of course I do.” He buries his face in your neck. “The real question is where do we start?”

You pretend to think for a second. “Squid Game, episode 2.”

He lifts his head to look at you. “I really do love you, but not that much.” You laugh at his reaction.

“How about Squid Game, episode 2 in the background, but we just make out while it’s on?”

“That,” Heeseung gives you a small, quick kiss. “I can get on board with.”

[luxshine]

“Yo  a ti, Cas” Or how mexican dubbing gripped us tight and raised us from Despair.

Ok. So I promised a big meta about the dubbing thing and so while I don’t have all the answers YET, here’s a bit of perspective on the differences between Despair and The Truth.

  First, a little background. I am a former professional dubbing translator. While I worked on anime series from Japanese to Spanish, rather than in live action ones from English to Spanish, the process is not that different. Also, I worked in Mexico, where Supernatural is dubbed, so that’s why I can make the assumptions I make. Finally, my specialization in college was translation from English to Spanish, so I guess I know what the hell I’m talking about.

  So let’s start on HOW you translate something for a dub. Back in the day, you got a ton of VHS tapes with the episodes on them with time codes, and, if you were lucky, a shooting script. This is to say, it was not a transcript of the actual words said in the episode, but the script BEFORE the actors, directors, and everyone else had a hand on what was said and changed. And thus, anything adlibbed? Is not going to be in that script which, at least for the anime side of things? Was a nightmare as the script was usually “And here X actor can say whatever they want” and I had to go and listen to the scene ten thousand times. Now a days, you get either a video file or a streaming link, and sometimes, the shooting script. If you get a script, btw, you can also not get a script in the original language. I know that the person who had to translate Sprited Away to Spanish was working off a German script, not the Japanese one. So yeah, some things can be lost in translation there.

  THEN you get to translate. BUT you can’t just translate word by word. You have to adapt it so that it will sound like something a person will say, and sometimes, literally is not the way to do it. And in particular, Mexican dubbing has a reputation to uphold as the “Neutral” dub that is send to most Spanish-speaking countries in Latin America, so we can’t use certain words (I don’t have the list at hand, but I remember that I couldn’t use “Llanta” for Tire, and so I had to use “Neumatico”. And no “sweaters” or “hotcakes” or stuff like that), AND we have to match the lips of the original video. Which is like, the worst nightmare ever because of what we call “labiales”, that is to say, the letters where lips close.

  I can’t tell you how much we all loved when a character gave a long winded speech with their back to the camera due to those damned closed lip letters.

  All this is to say that sometimes, the line could be “We are all in this together for good or bad”, and the translation become something more like “Estamos en esto, por las buenas o las malas” (We’re on this, the good way or the bad way) or “Estamos juntos en las buenas y en las malas” (We’re together in the good and the bad), depending on the translator, dub director, and voice actor.

  Depending on the client, that is, the original owner of the series, sometimes they will review the translation once it’s all dubbed and edited. I know that in the Avengers movie, a Disney rep was present on the cabin and forbade any changes from the script, which resulted on a couple of awkward lines in the end result. I don’t know if that’s the case for Supernatural, but I honestly doubt it. Still, translators can’t make huge changes for the dialogue. One couldn’t just ADD a relationship that wasn’t there, no matter what.

  (As an aside, due to the very conservative mindset of some tv stations, it’s more common that gay relationships become more ambiguous, by changing “I love you” to “Te quiero” which can be more of a filial love than a romantic one. And well, that one case in Sailor Moon where a gay character was changed into a woman because the dub director honestly thought the character was a woman. But that was in the nineties)

  Now, let’s go to how Castiel’s speech was translated.

  The original, according to Superwiki, went like this:

  Castiel:  You're the most caring man on Earth. You are the most selfless, loving human being I will ever know. You know, ever since we met, ever since I pulled you out of Hell, knowing you has changed me. Because you cared, I cared. I cared about you. I cared about Sam. I cared about Jack. I cared about the whole world because of you. You changed me, Dean.

Dean: Why does this sound like a goodbye? Castiel: Because it is. I love you. Dean: Don't do this, Cas. Cas.

  And the translation, as it was aired, went like this (And people, you have no idea the war flashbacks transcribing this gave me, so I hope you appreciate it):

  Castiel: Eres el hombre mas amoroso sobre la Tierra. Un hombre sin egoismo; el hombre mas generoso que haya visto, y que jamas vere. Sabes que desde que nos conocimos y desde que te saque del infierno, el conocerte me ha cambiado. Porque a ti te importa. Y a mi me importa. Me importas tu. Y me importa Sam, me importa Jack, me importa todo el mundo. Y fue por ti. Tu me cambiaste, Dean.

  Dean: Porque suena esto a despedida?

  Castiel: Porque asi fue. Te amo.

  Dean: Yo a ti, Cas. (The empty appears and Billie opens the door) Cas…

  Castiel: Adios Dean

  Dean: No!

  Ok. So… At first glance, they’re pretty much the same until we get to the I love you. BUT let’s dissect it a little bit.

  Cas begins with a “Eres el hombre mas amoroso sobre la Tierra” which is not how I would’ve translated “The most caring man on Earth” since “caring” is more like “Cariñoso” rather than “amoroso” which would be “loving”, and yes, there’s a difference. Plus, “el hombre mas amoroso” sounds a bit clunky, so Personally, I’d have gone with “Eres el hombre mas cariñoso en la Tierra”, that would’ve given us more time for the rest of the speech, but I wonder if the translator choice for Amoroso instead was more due to the fact that “amor” (love) is more clearly romantic than “care” (cariño, in a sense, more on this later) and so it foreshadows the end.

  Again, with the literal clunkyness we have “Un hombre sin egoismo” (A man without egoism) which sounds weird no matter what language you speak, and it should’ve been “Un hombre dadivoso” (A giving man) or “un hombre desinteresado” (a selfless man) although the second could be mis-construed as “a man without interests” so “dadivoso” would’ve better. But the more puzzling is that the Spanish separates the selfless man from the next, which is REALLY confusing as the English is “the most loving man”, which would be “el hombre mas amoroso” making it quite redundant, so the Spanish changes it to “the most generous man”, “el hombre mas generoso”. To add to this, Cas continues with “that I have seen and I will ever see” instead of “That I know”, because it’s far more poetic. And loving.

  So yeah, Mexican Cas is basically saying that Dean Winchester is made of love and puppies.

  Ahem.

  The next part “You know, ever since I pulled you out of hell, you’ve changed me” is more or less word for word, and the only thing that changes is that the English sounds more like a question and the Spanish one is an affirmation. YOU KNOW that ever since I pulled you out of hell, you changed me.” Little verb tense play, that doesn't change much except Cas’s resolution to say what he has to say.

  And then we get to the part that made me squeal out loud. Because we go from

  “Because you cared, I cared. I cared about you. I cared about Sam. I cared about Jack. I cared about the whole world because of you”

  To

  “Porque a ti te importa. Y a mi me importa. Me importas tu. Y me importa Sam, me importa Jack, me importa todo el mundo.” Which at first glance is the same, but NOPE.

  First change: The original is in past tense “I cared”. Spanish version is in present tense: “I care”.

Which is a little non important thing except when you remember that simple present means “immutable absolute truth that won’t change with time”

  Second, the choice of word for care.

  I mentioned before that Care can be Cariño, as in filial, non romantic love (Or romantic love pet name, as it can also be Darling. It’s one of THOSE words). Other translations for care include “cuidado” (as in attention, concern, keeping, and worry), and of course “interesarse” (Which also can be care), “preocuparse” (care, bother, trouble, mind, fuss), and yes, “importar” but “importar” ONLY translates to English as a verb as “import”, “matter” “amount to” and notice how none of those words include “love”.

  Mexican Cas is not saying “you love the world, and so I do”. Mexican Cas is saying “The world matters to you, and thus it matters to me, but my feelings for the World (and Sam, and Jack) are not in the same league as my feelings for you.”

  And then Dean asks “Why does this sound like a Goodbye”, just like in English, in present tense…

  And Mexican Cas replies in PAST tense. “Porque asi fue”. And THIS is important because it means that everything he said before WAS the goodbye, and not what comes next. All the rest? Is in the past. “Because it was”. Not “Because it IS”. And the next part? Is their future.

  I love you.

  Te amo.

  Simple present. No ambiguity like “te quiero”. Spanish Te amo is for romantic love. Not brotherly, not family, not bro-mantic. ROMANTIC.

  It’s like “I’m IN love with you” (Although that’d be “Estoy enamorado de ti” and I doubt that would’ve fit in the time Misha spoke)

  And of course, the answer. “Yo a ti, Cas”. Not “And I, you” as I’ve seen it before (And I also thought it was, until transcribing the scene) but a simple “I, you, Cas.” Which ok, pretty cave-speak, but the meaning is pretty clear. Dean Winchester loves his gay angel.

  It is also telling that the empty doesn’t appear until AFTER Dean confessed, so no, Mexican Cas is not “happy with the saying”, he had to get to the “happy with the having”.

  And when Billy appears, it does seem as if he wants to say something more, but Cas is a love-sick selfsacrificing dumbass and so we all get our hearts broken.

I did get in contact with Dean Winchester’s mexican voice actor, and am waiting for answers to a small interview I did with him which includes the question “did that And I you, Cas” was in the script, and am trying to contact Castiel’s mexican voice actor. So I will be updating you on that. But I hope this clears up some of the questions about how Mexican dubbing made Destiel Canon :D

[donotexterminateupgradepudding]

Black Sails - update on Captain Flint’s reading list - quick thoughts

I’ve been working my way through what I’m calling Captain Flint’s reading list - or the key books he either owned or were key to the plot of the show.  To keep things fresh I have been reading more than one book at a time.

A few books were hard to find as e-books or based on the original formatting that has been maintained for the copies, I chose to purchase the hard copy.

After getting my Covid booster shot, I popped into a bookstore and got a hard copy of Meditations.  I’d been getting tired of the free ebook with rather over the top language.  This copy is hailed as the first translation in a generation from 2003 by Gregory Hays.  I’ve been taking my time with it and find this translation to be more direct in its intentions.  It still keeps the true feelings of the text, but it does shy away from the more dramatic:

- You should be like a rocky promontory, against which the restless surf continuously pounds.  It stands fast while the churning sea is lulled to sleep at its feet.

which is what Miranda reads to Richard Guthrie as her favorite selection.

The Hays translation instead goes with:

- To be like the rock that the waves keep crashing over.  It stands unmoved and the raging of the sea falls still around it.

The ebook version has this variation from a translation by Casaubon, which is edited by someone who isn’t credited in the document.  It is clear though that Casaubon took liberties with the translation - including paraphrasing things for the current reader of 1634 or 1635:

I have a feeling that some of these 17th and 18th century translations seem to have taken a rather loose interpretation of the text for their contemporary readers.  I’m now personally curious to go digging around for the original Latin text and see if I can clear out the cobwebs of my own Latin skills which have gone unused for over twenty years.   All in all, I’m starting to favor Hays’ translation which has that more exact vibe I recall from translating prose myself many moons ago.�� Latin is always so clear what is going on with its over the top number of verb tenses and noun declensions, but damn, they do tell you exactly what it going on.

Leviathan - by Hobbes.  This is one that I’m still reading the ebook version since it would be pretty thick. Honestly, this was likely not the best -or- maybe the best choice to read around Midterm elections.  I could just absorb the Hobbes-ness of it and feel smug as the political theatre was turned up to 11.

I love the transcriber’s notes on the text in the second paragraph - ‘and sometimes, it seems, just because.’  I can wholeheartedly agree with that statement. 

My favorite parts so far are the oft quoted ‘of accidents of bread and cheese’ and his refusal to use consistent spelling of ‘we’ or ‘wee’ for ‘we’; sometimes using both spellings in the same paragraph!  Lastly, his spelling of corn as ‘corne’.

Joking aside, it is a very interesting read.  The first part goes about defining what is man, common sense, human nature, fighting against that human nature which would be a state of war and general crappiness.  The idea that people suck and will sink to their lowest level = conflict/war is pretty obvious.  It ties on the idea that uncivilized places would be in this state of war while a civilized commonwealth would not.  But anyone watching Black Sails knows that the longer the series goes on the more and more you wonder what is a civilization? What makes a civil society?  When is it justified to fight for your rights and wage war against an oppressive force?  The pirates of Nassau both wage war upon merchants (and each other) yet have democratic crews voting on leaders and choices and giving leadership to someone with their consent which is a great transition into part two.

The commonwealth where people put aside those natural instincts and surrender their rights to the commonwealth to maintain order and stability.  This commonwealth is led/cemented by the sovereign, who can drive all policies even if the people feel they are incorrect or flawed.  What reading the text really highlighted for me how loosely the concept of the social contract and the role of the sovereign are communicated in passing.  Multiple times Hobbes is quite clear that the ‘sovereign’ can be a single individual or can be an elected government of a collection of individuals.  Furthermore, if it is a single individual, he’s staunchly opposed to the idea of that power being hereditary since it would just make him a king.

Are we as viewers to see the juxtaposition between England being civilization where the people of the commonwealth put up with the government to manage them while the pirates exist in a more primitive state of nature?  Or is it through the process of removing oneself from the colonial naval complex where one is ruled by fear and punishment (that state of war/conflict) and by breaking free of this and forms a commonwealth where a crew democratically elects a captain and quartermaster, thus creating a social contract in a state of ‘lawlessness’?

Does Flint’s knowledge of Leviathan both feed into his belief that most men are dumb and would revert to that state of nature? E.g. Flint to Silver - “If left up to their own devices they’d eat it raw.” However, is it by joining his crew and his commonwealth, they escape that state of nature by forming a social contract with him?

I’m currently stuck in part three where he discusses the Christian commonwealth b/c well, he sort of has to address the geopolitical elements of the time and the power of the Church and the Church of England.  It is a rather dry part of the text but there is no way it would have been published without the religious element.  I’m not as excited by a man using Biblical text to back up his thesis that a commonwealth lead by a sovereign is key to advancing society and government. La Galatea - by Cervantes (Gyll translation).  I was pleasantly surprised at how much I enjoyed this book.  It is stated to be a pastoral romance - an excuse to have lots of poems in homage to the man who really solidified the genre - Virgil.  The idea that it is a single romance is misleading - it is all sorts of romances between shepherds and shepherdesses as well as a few cavilers and more noble ladies.  The book introduces the famed Galatea, a beautiful shepherdess who has two men very much into her, Elicio and Erasto who happen to be best friends.  I found some of the more exciting stories of Timbrio and his horrible luck in all of his travels. 

The worst part is that the book ends with Elicio going forth to try to “rescue” Galatea from an arranged marriage by her father.  And then Cervantes ends it with a statement that if the book is received well and his patrons give him some money, he’ll write book two.  However, there is no book two!  We’ll never know what happens.

For Black Sails, this means that James gave Miranda a book where the two boys never get the one girl!  The prose is interesting and the poems are pretty much entirely about all sorts of romances/love/rejection/lust but there is no way to know how this ends.  I have to admit, I wanted to know what happened! However, if Flint read the beginning where it describes Elicio as the more sophisticated shepherd and Erastro as the overly educated and eloquent but of the proletariat with a lovely lady who has their attention. . . . Well, he likely saw it as representing Thomas and himself.  Two very different men (strange pairs in Thomas’s words) with a single woman between them, Miranda.  Or are we to feel terrible that Miranda was given a book which didn’t reveal what happened thus her stuck with her ultimate fate while James and Thomas remain?

After talking with a friend, I was told to give Don Quixote another try.  She’d also complained she struggled with it previously, and that I should seek out the Edith Grossman translation.  I’ll see if I go down that path in the near future. Lastly, I’ve started Hugo Grotius’ De Jure Belli ac Pacis - with a harder to find edition of the second English translation by William Evats.  I’d originally gotten a version from a right wing publisher in Indiana which annoyingly split each book up into an individual version as a part of their ‘Natural Law and Enlightenment Classics’ and references a 1738 version of the translation after the end of the series.  I found the Evats’ translation from a law book publisher which dates back to 1682 and completely replicates the original text, odd printing format and all.  Plus, it includes all three books in one volume.  The language is quite similar to reading Hobbes with the need to define what is right, war, nature etc.  But that makes sense since it was published in 1625 and Leviathan in 1651.

This will likely become more interesting as I get further into the book as it defines when war is justified, if the law applies in war and all sorts of other issues that are always swirling around in the series.  The index references piracy several times where it concludes that robbers and pyrates do not = a civil society despite their equity among themselves.  I was a little eager to see what Mr. Grotius had to say on the issue and I’ll see how it fits into the context of the greater work soon-ish, when I get to book III.

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

A Deafened Bard (Stephen Strange x Female!Reader)

I can explain. 

Please don't come at me for starting a new project before finishing Cult Girl Doctorate. I hit a wall and needed to take a break. I am trying not to let this one take up too much time.

Y/n is a sorceress-in-training who’s known for being hard to teach. Sensing her potential, Doctor Strange takes her on as an apprentice. 

You firmly believed that shattering the urn of Fei-Amie was the best thing that ever happened to you. 

It happened a year ago, but it still replayed in your head over and over again. You made a conscious effort to remember it vividly. 

Sure, it was terrifying, Stephen Strange's initial look of anger when he heard the ceramic shatter. It softened when he saw that the culprit was just a clumsy sorceress-in-training who looked on the verge of tears with remorse. Still, it was a face you never wanted to see again: his teeth bared, his already sharp features accentuated under the constraints of anger. 

It diluted into silent, simmering frustration that revealed itself to you in short sarcastic jabs and body language. 

"Just, stop." He cut you off after a string of profuse sorries. With no disarming smile in sight, you could tell he was tense. "Artifacts get broken all the time. Don't cry. It was an accident." 

His tone indicated that he was trying to convince himself more than he was you. You were a closed-off person and could hardly stand the idea that anyone out there didn't like you. The idea of the Sorcerer Supreme being mad at you, personally, made you briefly consider ritual suicide. You lowered your head. "Yes, Master Strange."

"Hey, butterfingers." He called out after you as you tried to make a painless exit. You looked back at him and he gestured to the pile of broken ceramic pieces. "You gonna fix what you broke?"

It hadn't dawned on you that an ancient relic could be fixed. Especially one that once contained the ashes of the ancient necromancer Fei-Amie. You were embarrassed to say that your knowledge of manipulating time was surface-level at best, and couldn't think of any other solution. 

You wordlessly gathered the pieces up in your skirt and carried them off, striking out any plans to go into town that evening. Instead, you poured through book after book for any instruction whatsoever on repairing broken artifacts. You ran out of desk space, so books were just floating in the air, suspended on pages that briefly mentioned relic breakage. 

You started to believe you were given an impossible task. Or perhaps all the resources you needed, he was withholding. Even so, you didn't want to go back to him empty-handed. You changed into your street clothes and opened a portal to the local craft store.

You returned with two types of extra-strong superglue and got to work. First, you made all the pieces come together and had them hover over the desk. Unconsciously, you began to sing as you pieced the urn back together. 

Cream colored ponies and crisp apple strudels

Doorbells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles

Brown paper packages tied up with strings

These are a few of my favorite things

"Haven't heard that song in years." 

You dropped the tube of glue and the few remaining pieces fell back to the desk. "Master Strange!" 

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you." He said, though his apology was undercut by his smug tone. "Carry on." 

You picked up a piece and began to line the edges with glue. 

"Aren't you going to finish the song?" 

You looked up to see that he hadn't been just passing by. He was leaning against the threshold, watching you. 

"I don't usually sing for an audience." You laughed, uncomfortably. "Just me." 

"A man and his sentient cape should not count as an audience," he scoffed. "But, if you insist, I guess I'll have to just listen to Julie Andrews instead." 

"What's wrong with her?" You raised your eyebrows in surprise. 

"Oh, nothing. She's a treasure." He put his hands up. "But everyone gets to hear her sing. And I take it that only a very select few get to hear your rendition of my favorite things. I just have to be one of them." 

You blushed, suddenly forgetting all the words to my favorite things. 

"Girls in white dresses..." he offered, an impatient edge to it.

You swallowed. "Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes. Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes-"

"Hey, butterfingers." He interrupted again. Before you could object, he pointed to the way that the pieces floated gracefully overhead at the sound of your voice. 

"I'd like to see Julie Andrews do that." He said with a wink.

"Looks alright," Master Strange said, running his finger along the tight seams that showed where cracks once were. 

"Will it still work?" You asked. That was really all you were worried about. 

"Beats the hell out of me." He shrugged. "I didn't know how to use it to begin with." 

"What?!" You spat back. "Are you kidding?" 

"I'm afraid not." He said, taking the urn and placing it back on its pedestal. "Don't worry, you did a good job. I'm not mad at you anymore." 

That was really all you needed to hear. "Thank you, sir." 

"You're an apprentice, right?" He asked. 

"I'm..." Your voice trailed off in embarrassment. "Between masters right now."

He raised an eyebrow. "If I were to ask around, would I receive glowing reviews from your last masters?" 

You admitted it point-blank. "No." 

"Let me guess," he folded his arms. "Something didn't make sense to you and instead of giving you the space to question it, they insisted you follow blindly." 

You wanted to throw your head back and shout in relief; finally, someone understood! 

"Bingo, bullseye." You put your hands up in surrender after being read so easily. "Right on the money."

"I see." He said, tucking that thought away for later. "Could I trouble you for one more odd job before you go?" 

"That depends." You folded your arms. "What is it?" 

He looked over his shoulder at his cape. "How are you with sewing?"

‘Sewing' was not the verb you would use to describe repairing the tears in the Cloak of Levitation. It was taller and stronger than you and it did not want to be repaired. It was closer to performing surgery on a fully grown mountain lion that could rip your head off at any minute. 

"Like putting eyeshadow on a cat," Master Strange said. It flicked its edge contemptuously, while still clinging to his shoulders for dear life. "I'm a licensed surgeon and it won't let me within 20 feet of it with a needle." 

"Thanks for the vote of confidence." You said, thoroughly discouraged. All he'd given you to work with was a spool of thread and a pack of needles. 

He tried with sincere force to remove the cloak, but it wouldn't budge. "Of course, now it knows you're coming at it with the sewing kit and it won't leave my shoulders." 

"Maybe I can work with that?" You shrugged. You threaded the needle and hid it in your hand. 

You approached the cloak, only for it to shove Master Strange in your way like a human shield. 

"Listen, you naughty little blanket." He scolded, turning around to face it as if it were a puppy that had just wrecked the living room. "If you don't let her fix you, you're going in the washing machine. Extra spin." 

It shuddered, and, for a moment, you thought it was going to comply. You slowly took a step forward, only for it to dart as soon as your foot hit the ground. It made its escape with a large crash through the heavy wooden doors of the library. 

"Hey!" You shouted, chasing after it. "Get back here!" 

You caught a glimpse of it headed towards the relic room, so, without thinking, you opened a portal to make it there first. You reached it only seconds before the cloak breached the threshold, with only enough time to grab it by the edge. 

"Come here!" You exclaimed, giving it a full force tug. It tugged back, overpowering you to the tenth degree. It dragged you across the room and into the foyer. You yanked on it, only for it to escape from your grip and send you flying back into the wall. You wondered for a second how such a sturdy piece of fabric could possibly be in need of maintenance. 

"Bastard." You mumbled, rubbing the spot where your head collided with the wall. The pain didn't stop you, though. You were on your feet within seconds, pursuing the naughty blanket all over again. 

You heard the words of one of your many, many masters ringing in your ears; "never outrun what you can outsmart". Or maybe that was from a Garfield comic. Either way, whether or not you could outsmart the cloak was still unknown, but you had to at least try. 

You took a second to catch your breath and tried to remember where you saw it heading next. Downstairs, you thought. To the laundry room. The one place you would never look. 

You slowly but deliberately descended the stairs to the basement where the laundry was. You turned the light on and saw overturned baskets of towels, clothes, and sheets everywhere. And then a washing machine door slammed shut. You turned your head and saw a twinge of dark red hiding in the washing machine. 

You removed your shoes and socks to minimize noise, then picked up a fitted sheet that had been thrown on the ground. You mounted the washing machine and affixed the sheet to the front. The cloak would have to come shooting out the door, and you would ambush it. 

You forced the door open with your heel, holding the sheet like a giant net. As predicted, the cloak shot out like a bullet from a gun, getting caught in the sheet. It thrashed around aimlessly, trying to escape, but you had a tight grip and it wasn't going anywhere. 

"It's curtains for you!" You said, then laughed at your own joke. "Stop struggling!" 

It flailed and fought, but eventually ran out of energy and sunk to the ground. Not trusting it quite yet, you pinned it down with your whole body weight before releasing it from the sheet. As expected, it tried to fly away, but couldn't get anywhere.

"The less you fight, the faster this will go." You said, examining the fabric for any visible tears. The rip presented itself right away. About as long as your hand, right in the center. 

"What did Strange do to you?" You asked, pulling the threaded needle from your pocket. "Hold still, I'm going to fix it." 

Once the needle hit fabric, the cloak stopped trying to fly away and instead writhed about on the floor like it was about to die. You fixed the tear with as many stitches as you could make, then pulled it shut. Once you knew the thread was secure, you rolled off the cloak and let it fly free. 

It shot up, but froze, noticing something was different. It swished itself around, unaccustomed to the feeling of air not blowing right through its center. 

"You're welcome." You said with a shrug. "It's not like I had to chase you all around the sanctum to make it happen." 

Without any warning, the cloak scooped you up and squeezed you. Your initial reaction was that this was its revenge and you were taking your final breaths, but you could tell it was gratitude by the way it gently set you down on the ground. 

"Happy to help." You gasped for air. "Just remember this feeling if I ever have to do this again." 

"Not bad, butterfingers." Master Strange told you, though the tone of his voice conveyed he was impressed beyond a simple 'not bad'. 

"Not bad?" You protested. "I absolutely crushed it." 

He ran his finger down the uneven but sturdy stitching. When his face met yours again, he was smiling with genuine enthusiasm that managed to eek through his dry, sarcastic exterior. It came out as an admittedly very handsome sideways smirk as his eyes scanned you up and down. 

“If you don’t need anything else, I’ll get out of your hair now.” You said, heading towards the open doors. 

“Wait.” The doors slammed shut before you could reach them. You turned around to see Master Strange still examining the stitching. "You wouldn't leave without tea, would you?"

A pot of chai tea sat between you, filling the air with an aroma of spicy vanilla. You held the teacup in both hands, determined to never give him a reason to reinforce the "butterfingers" nickname he'd become so fond of. 

"Chai is my favorite." You said, letting the scent waft into your nose. "Yerba mate used to be my favorite, but if I drink more than two pots of it I get sick." 

"Yeah, definitely don't do that." He chuckled, bobbing his teabag up and down in the cup. "Out of curiosity, are you wondering at all why I invited you to tea?" 

"Oh, definitely." You nodded. "I was just wondering about that." 

"Would you believe it's just because I find you interesting?" He raised an eyebrow. "Good company, perhaps?" 

"Interesting? Absolutely." You agreed. "Good company is debatable." 

"I can't believe I never thought to trap the cloak in the washing machine." He rested his chin in his hand. "It seems so obvious now." 

"If it makes you feel any better," you shrugged. "It was mostly dumb luck and reckless disregard for my own life, considering it almost threw me off the balcony.” 

He glared at the cloak. “What did I tell you about trying to kill our guests?” 

It lowered its collar shamefully in his direction. 

“Don’t apologize to me!” He scolded. “Apologize to her.” 

It turned to face you and repeated the somber motion. 

“It’s okay.” You shrugged. “My family adopted a retired army German Shepherd growing up. I’m used to high-strung creatures that could end my life at any second.” 

“Well, rest assured, butterfingers,” He said, leaning back in his chair. “This will never happen again.”

“I, uh-” You opened your mouth before you could even really pick up on the implication he was putting down. “Wasn’t aware that there would be a chance for it to happen again?” 

“I suppose we should get down to brass tax, then.” He folded his hands in his lap. “How would you like to stay here?”

“Well-” You said, not wanting to come off as too enthusiastic, which you certainly were. “Not if it’s going to kill me-”

“If I could promise you that your life won’t be in constant danger, I would.” He cut you off. “But if you wanted safety, you wouldn’t have started studying the Mystic Arts.”

“Got me there.” You conceded, your made-up objection withering away. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch.” He shook his head. “I’ll help you train and in return, you help me preserve the integrity of the sanctum.” 

“So an apprenticeship?” Your eyes widened. "Are you saying you want to take me on as an apprentice?" 

“I know you’ve got bad associations with that title, but yes.” He answered. “If it brings back memories of your previous masters treating you like garbage, we can call it a ‘partnership’, if you’d like.” 

Partners with the Sorcerer Supreme? You thought, butterflies materializing in your stomach. 

"That sounds great, but-" You broke eye contact and fidgeted with your fingers. "I feel like I should disclose that it wasn't really all that one-sided. I am… notoriously hard to teach."

"And who told you that?" He tilted his head. "The ones who refused to teach you?" 

You hadn't thought about it that way. "I guess."

"The way I see it, you've repaid your debt and are free to leave," he began. "But seeing how dutifully you reassembled that urn, wrangled my favorite piece of defiant outerwear, and how desperately this place is in need of some life, it might be a good idea to keep you around." 

You put your hand over your chest to still your heart. "It would be an honor." 

"Excellent." He nodded. "That saves me the trouble of having to convince you."

He brought you to a small but comfortable room with a bed and connected bathroom. 

"There's plenty of closet space for all your clothes." He said, gesturing to an antique looking bureau set. 

You dumped your duffel bag out on the bed, revealing the extent of your possessions. "Thanks, but this is all I've got." 

"Travel light, huh?" He asked.

"Yeah, I moved around a lot growing up." You admitted. "Got no real roots and all that jazz." 

"That changes now." He told you. "This is your home now so I want it to feel like it. Make the space your own."

“I don’t know how I can thank you for this.” You lowered your head, still feeling undeserving. 

“Don’t thank me yet, butterfingers.” He chuckled. “I’ve been told I tend to be a little on the egotistical side. That I don’t work well with others.”

"It's actually [F/N], if you were curious." You said, sitting on the bed and folding your hands in your lap. 

"Okay, [F/N]." he smiled. "You've been in and out of enough apprenticeships to know the drill. Early mornings, late nights. And I've got a laundry list of odd jobs for you that I'm too important to do." 

"Naturally." You nodded. His dry self-awareness inspired a little confidence that he wouldn't be a complete tyrant. 

"You did a good job today." He said, bluntly. "Thank you for your help. Keep it up and you'll make an invaluable addition to the sanctum."

You smiled downwards. "Thank you." 

"Do you often sing when you're trying to focus?" He posited. "Just, as an aside." 

You could tell the gears in his neurosurgeon's head were turning, undoubtedly trying to pin some kind of diagnosis on you as doctors were known to do. 

“I guess it’s just a force of habit.” You admitted. “I used to play piano, so when I’m working with my hands, it just kind of happens. My last master was not happy about that.” 

"Oh, screw him." He waved his hand dismissively. "He pissed away an opportunity to nurture a sorceress with a special gift for the sake of tradition. That's a mistake I won't make."

Special gift? You thought. Nobody who practiced the Mystic Arts had ever referred to anything you'd ever done as a 'gift'. Annoyance? sure. A symptom of ADHD? All the time. But 'gift'? That made it sound useful.

[beauty-and-passion]

Silly fun challenge prompt: what languages do you associate with the Sides/what would be the 2nd language each Side learn?

For example I am a big fan of Hispanic (Spanish speaking) Creativitwins fanon. And c! Thomas too could've learnt Spanish in high school and the fact his love interest is hispanic too just makes perfect sense-

And in contrast to Hispanic twins I headcanon Janus as a francophone (French speaking) for two reasons: 1) it was still lingua franca around Victorian era, his aesthetic inspiration and 2) dividing American high school by Spanish class vs. French class is like causing Civil War (I was and still am a language nerd, so I learnt both languages, which was a mistake but the kind of mistake that was worth it when you think about it later)

German suites Logan since lots of famous philosophers are German. I associate Japanese or Korean with Virgil since those two are really dominant in the current subculture world (and maybe our emo could've been inspired and turn into E-boy - wow that sounds terrifying)

I don't have strong preference on Patton's but Italian sounds nice, since all those music and dessert and anything sweet are often from Italy. And maybe 'Orange' can be some language that sounds harsh like Russian, so he can murmur in that in sleep and scares everyone else

I know you're in Europe: 1) you use GMT and 2) Americans wouldn't care about Eurovision. So I wonder how you would think based on your European experience!

Oooh, I like this! As European Who Studied Languages, I definitely approve this and I'll gladly add my two cents about which languages the sides should learn.

_________

Roman: He canonically knows Spanish and that's perfect like that. Spanish is a romantic language, someone speaks Spanish and you can't help but swoon. It’s a great choice for the Side responsible for romance and passion.

_________

Remus: Remus isn't just intrusive thoughts, but there’s a very high chance he’s also responsible for Thomas' sexual urges. So, what is the language made for sex? You’re right, it’s French. French is sexy. You can say anything in French and bam, ✨sexy ✨.

"Je sors la poubelle." Sexy, isn't it? Well, I just said "I'm taking out the trash". See? Very sexy.

(French people, please confirm my words. We all know it’s true)

_________

Janus: Your points are incredibly valid and I love them. But if we should choose among all languages, I would love Janus to be one of the very few (extremely few) people in the world who can speak Latin.

I know Latin is a dead language, but it would be great - and not just because of the connection with his name.

Let’s consider that the other Romance languages, despite evolving from Latin, cannot entirely understand it, because they all changed a lot through the centuries after mixing with the Germanic ones. On the other hand, the Germanic languages (English, German, Swedish and so on) are part of a completely different group, only slightly influenced by Latin, so they cannot understand it.

In other words, Janus would speak a language that only sounds familiar - and maybe you can grasp a couple words here and there if you know a romance language, but the true meaning is hidden. What is he actually saying? Who knows. Is he actually cursing someone? Who knows. After all, do you understand Latin? Yeah, me neither.

If I have to pick a language that is still spoken today instead, I think I'll join you with French. Your points are valid and French is a very elegant language, fitting for Janus’ whole aesthetic. So yes, French could work.

_________

Logan: German is a great choice and you are absolutely right with your point about the philosophers. Also German is a language of harsh sounds and strict grammar rules - for example:

declensions that should be used accordingly for articles, adjectives and nouns

specific verbs for specific meanings

words made by putting together shorter words (like Haustürschlüssel.  Haustür means “front door”, Schlüssel means “key” -> this word means “front door’s key”)

sentences that should follow a specific construction, with parts of the compound verb after the noun and part at the end of the sentence. And secondary phrases also have a specific syntax and should always be introduced by a comma

In other words, it's a very organized language and I think it would fit Logan.

But also, considering that almost all words related to science and philosophy come from Greek, I think Logan should at least understand some Greek. As a treat.

(Also because Greek is another incredibly complicated language, so if someone has the patience to learn it, it’s definitely Logan.)

_________

Virgil: oh my gosh, I never thought about an eastern language for Virgil. In a way, it would be a very peculiar choice and I kinda like it. Japanese and Korean are extremely complicated languages, they have a very specific alphabet (I'm especially thinking about the Japanese one, that even asks for a specific direction to write words) and require a lot of work (and memory) to learn them.

But Virgil is also a poet and when I think of poets and sonnets my first connection is with the french ennui, le mal du vivre and especially Baudelaire and his works. Virgil would appreciate Baudelaire a lot. So French, again.

But hey, there’s too much French now. So I’ll pick the other european literature full of sadness: the russian one.

Russian is supposed to be a big scary language and its alphabet is weird and omg what if they're cursing us? But if you learn it a little bit, you’ll find out that Russian has a lot of soft/open sounds (due to a good use of vowels) and it's very poetic.

So the language itself is a bit like Virgil: he seems scary and evil at a first glance, but if you learn about him, he's actually kinder than he looks.

But never underestimate Russian, because just like Anxiety, fear is just behind the corner: you start learning it and wow, there is just one present tense, one past tense and one future tense? This is great, what a wonderful language!

And then, before you’ll realize it, you will find out that each verb has a “doppelganger” used for entirely different purposes AND there a gazillion verbs of motion and you will end up crying on the floor, because there are just too many verbs - and look, there are also one trillion particles you can put before these verbs and they give them EVEN MORE MEANINGS.

No, this isn't entirely based on my personal experience, what makes you think that.

_________

Patton: I have never thought about Patton learning another language, because English just fits him too well.

But when you proposed Italian... well, my heart just wiped out everything else. There is nothing here, only Patton speaking Italian.

So yes, Patton's second language should be Italian. No, it must be Italian. Because French is the language of sex, Spanish is the language of love, but if you want to declare your eternal love to someone, you use Italian. Do you want to marry someone? Italian. Do you want to tell your significant other how much you adore them? Italian. Italian has one million ways to express love and Patton should use them all with his kiddos.

And yes, Italian is also associated with warm people, warm places and good food, all things Patton deserves and should enjoy. So Italian is a big yes.

_________

Orange: since Orange is a mystery, I am a bit torn between these two languages:

1) Esperanto: This language is amazing, because it isn’t a natural language, born like all others, but it has been built by a man, who wanted to create an universal language in order to foster world peace and international understanding.

So this language has been created to be as simple as possible, with a very regular grammar (unlike all other natural languages) and its words all have references to other language groups (romance, germanic, slavic, indo-europeans, finno-ugric languages and so on).

And if you actually listen to it (especially if you know some latin languages) you will find it weirdly understandable. I found this video in particular and I was impressed by how strangely familiar esperanto sounds.

And... that’s it, I just think it would be kinda poetic that the last side knows a language that all others can use and understand.

2) A Greenlandic language. Why? Because they are insanely polysynthetic.

What does that mean? If in German you can make words by putting together other two/three words (like in the example I used before), in the Greenlandic languages you can build an entire sentence by putting together nouns, verbs, articles and everything else. All together in one single word, whose meaning can be translated with an entire sentence in another language.

Do you want an example? Here is an example from Wikipedia: tuntussuqatarniksaitengqiggtuq.

Yes, this is a word.

This word is from the Yupik language and means "He had not yet said again that he was going to hunt reindeer.". And this word is made of:

tuntu- (= reindeer)

ssur-  (= hunt)

qatar- (future tense)

ni- (= say)

ksaite- (negative)

ngqiggte- (= again)

uq  (3rd.sing.IND)

Is this insane? This is fucking insane. Do you want to be scared? This is real fear. What the heck. How. Why.

You know what? This is perfect for Orange, I’ll leave Esperanto to Thomas. Orange deserves to be this scary. I can already see the other sides quiver before him.

_________

And so, here are my guesses! If someone has other ideas, feel free to add yours and tell us why, so we can all have a nice discussion :D

[svnflowervol666]

Ma Petite Chérie: Babymoon (Harry Styles x fem!Reader)

Read more from this little universe, Ma Petite Chérie, in my masterlist!

Summary: Harry and Y/N go on their babymoon.

Warnings: pregnancy, smut, fluff

Word Count: 6.4k

Author’s Note: Hello! I wrote this in order to cross off a few requests. I promised Harry and Y/N would have a baby of their own, plus I get asks all of the time to write pregnancy sex - specifically awkward, giggly pregnancy sex. I also got one about Harry getting a love boner, so here is my attempt at shoving all of that down your throat at once. Try not to choke :-)  I also just reallllllly love Harry, Y/N, and Tallulah, so I wanted to give them some more love. Also made this one pornstache!Harry, so, there’s that. And one last thing...I know the verb tense is way off in this but I could not be arsed to edit it so plz don’t drag me. I hope everyone enjoys! Take care and TPWK.

“Oh my god,” Y/N huffed as she collapsed on the plush sofa in the living room of the cottage.

“It feels so fucking good out here by the water.”

“Breeze is nice, innit?” Harry replied as he rummaged through the kitchen cabinets to check out how well the place he’d rented for the week was stocked.

“Beats going t’ France at the end of June. Think I’m kinda gettin’ tired of Paris t’ be honest.”

“That is quite possibly the snobbiest thing I’ve ever heard you say, Mr. Styles,” she said with a laugh as she began to flip through the tourist brochures that were left on the coffee table.

Not that they’d be partaking in any of it, no. Their plan was to hole up in the quaint, Scottish cottage that sat right on the coast of the North Sea for the whole week, not even planning on changing out of their pajamas.

It was their babymoon after all - a time of peace and tranquility before the arrival of their first child together.

Harry hummed and he made his way from the kitchen to where Y/N was seated on the couch. He stood behind her, knees knocking against the back of the sofa as he crouched down and wrapped his arms around her very large, very swollen belly.

“If I recall correctly, Mrs. Styles, I sat my injured arse in a stiff train seat to Edinburgh for five hours because someone was too scared to fly even though they were cleared to do so by three separate doctors.”

“’M not Mrs. Styles for another year and a half,” Y/N muttered under her breath, albeit not trying to keep Harry from hearing it in the slightest.

Harry snickered into her neck, then playfully nipped her earlobe with his teeth as he whispered.

“Not my fault yeh got knocked up and we had t’ push the wedding.”

“It is very much your fault, Harry,” Y/N swatted at his face, fingers first brushing his jawline that was covered in a rough stubble and then just barely tracing the full-blown mustache that sat like a caterpillar above his bright pink top lip.

Harry smirked down at her, nostrils flaring wide and lips disappearing inside of his mouth.

“How’s your rib?” Y/N asked suddenly.

“Good. Why?” Harry’s brows quickly furrowed together in confusion as to why she was asking about his injury.

“Might have to ride that later if you’ve got the lungs for it,” she tapped her index and middle fingers along her philtrum, right where Harry’s mustache sat on his own face.

Her blunt lewdness had Harry’s cock immediately growing stiff in his pants. It had been a while. His injury coupled with her being in the last trimester of her pregnancy had left them both feeling unsatisfied for the past several weeks. Maybe this babymoon would prove to be relaxing not only because Harry and Y/N get to spend a week without a rambunctious almost six-year-old screaming at all hours of the day, but for other reasons too.

“Think I’d actually drop dead from happiness if yeh sat on m’ face right now, lovie. But, before yeh get too comfortable with that idea, we need t’ head into town. Kitchen’s only got the necessities, and I doubt yeh want t’ eat homemade bread for a week.”

“I’m sure you’d love to eat homemade bread for a week,” Y/N jested, poking fun at Harry’s latest obsession with the carb-filled food.

“Remind me again why I put up with you?” Harry toyed as he extended his arms out towards Y/N to use as leverage to help her hoist herself up from the couch.

When she regains her balance, she lifts herself up just slightly to press a quick kiss to Harry’s lips that he happily accepts. Y/N hums and jokingly checks the imaginary watch that sits on her wrist.

“How much time do you have? That list is pretty long.”

//

The trip to one of the only supermarkets in the small part of Edinburgh that they were staying in had proved to be rather tiring, because Harry opted to use store-bought pasta instead of making his own - something he never does. Maybe it was his healing rib causing him to be short-winded, but he simply could not bring himself to hand-make the pasta they chose to have for dinner that night. He bitched about it all night, about how it wasn’t as chewy as it should be and how it would have tasted much better if he would have just made it himself, but it still didn’t deter him from helping himself to a second serving.

He claimed it was because while he did use pre-cooked pasta, he didn’t use sauce from a jar and made his own from fresh tomatoes and that was the appeal. Y/N just thinks Harry likes to complain and listen to himself talk.

After dinner, just as the sun was setting and Harry and Y/N were waiting for their pasta to digest before they dove into the box of fresh pastries from a bakery they found along the way, they decided to take a walk around the property. The renovated, stone cottage that was overgrown with vines and leaves sat along a short cliffside that overlooked the North Sea. It was a short walk down the cliff that brought them to the beach, where mist from the ocean whisped around their legs and ankles like a thin veil of smoke. While it was the middle of summer, Scotland’s persistent rain showers and their proximity to the water never made it too hot to bear.

“Lulah would love it out here. We’ll have to bring her when the baby’s older.”

“She realIy would,” Harry agreed as he wrapped his sweater further around his chest.

“Know yeh didn’t give birth t’ her, but I swear you two are just alike sometimes. Absolutely hates bein’ hot and gettin’ sweaty just like you.”

Y/N smiled softly and knowingly at Harry before reaching into the pocket of the patchwork sweater of Harry’s that she’d stolen for their stroll on the beach for her phone.

“I’m gonna call her.”

She picked up on the third ring, Y/N’s phone screen then illuminated with a live image of a gap-toothed Tallulah. Well, it’s Mitch’s phone, but she’d been waiting for this promised FaceTime call all day so of course she’s quick to answer.

“Mummy!”

Both Y/N’s and Harry’s heart swelled in their chest when they heard Tallulah speak. It had been several months since she’d decided to start referring to Y/N as her mother, but neither of them had grown used to it just yet. Y/N felt a sense of achievement in “earning” the title of being Tallulah’s mum after all of the years she’d spent with her, and Harry felt a sense of resolution. His family was a real family now, and not just a patchwork of awkward relationships and trust issues. Y/N was Tallulah’s mum and she was now seven months pregnant with their own child and they’d be married by the end of next year. He was actually there to see his child grow this time, they weren’t a secret kept from him out of spite. He’d be there for all of it, even the gross and bloody and goopy bits. And he’d never felt more complete.

“Hi, baby,” Y/N beamed from ear to ear.

“What are you doing?”

“We’re walking on the beach,” Y/N answered.

“Want to see it?”

The five-year-old (five and three-quarters if you asked Tallulah herself) nodded quickly, and Y/N then flipped the camera around to show her the view of the water. Y/N pointed out their cottage from where they stood in the sand, turning the camera to Harry briefly as he held up a peace sign so Tallulah could see that her dad was also on the beach with her. She told her all about the train ride there and how Harry almost slipped and broke his face when was carrying his and Y/N’s luggage into the cottage.

Harry listened to his two little loves talk back and forth with the biggest smile on his face as he absent-mindedly scoured the beach for rocks he could skip along the water. He noticed whenever Tallulah said something that Y/N thought was funny, she had to cup her bump with her hand and forearm to keep it from shaking her entire body. She told him she hated laughing now, because it made her look like Santa Claus, but Harry thought she couldn’t look more beautiful.

“That’s so pretty! Can we all go when the baby is here?” Tallulah asked, puckering into a pout as she begged.

“I think that’s a great idea, Lulah. We were just talking about that, weren’t we, Harry?”

Harry perked up from where he had been washing a sandy shell off in the ocean and suddenly appeared in view of the camera and took the phone from Y/N. 

“Hmm?” he asked as he studied Tallulah’s appearance.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Mitch to watch his baby girl while he went away for a week with his other baby girl, it was that him and Sarah voluntarily asked to babysit Tallulah and that’s what made him so apprehensive to accept their offer. There wasn’t anything out of the ordinary about a sleepover at Uncle Mitch and Aunt Sarah’s every now and then, but to want to watch his daughter for an entire week certainly was. Harry felt like Mitch was plotting against him and that he’d come back to Tallulah with bright blue hair and bangs or she’d be sporting the world’s worst potty mouth when she came home, but so far that didn’t seem to be the case. 

She was wearing Harry’s “Dream Boat” shirt that she’d claimed as her own a few years back when Y/N had taught her to wear her father’s clothes when she missed him because the smell would remind her of him (he had to steal it back and sleep in it a few times every now and then to keep his scent on it), and her long, brown hair was damp and neatly braided into two plaits and hanging off her shoulders. That had to have been Sarah’s doing, because Harry knew Mitch could barely put his own hair into a ponytail without creating several lumps and redoing it eighteen times before it looked presentable - meaning he certainly wouldn’t have been able to make a five-year-old sit still long enough to braid her hair perfectly. 

She looked fine, though. Happy, healthy, certainly didn’t have blue hair or bangs and hadn’t said a single naughty thing since she’d been on the phone with Y/N.

“Lulah wants us to come back here after the baby’s born and take her with us,” Y/N beamed.

“I think we can work that out. Sounds quite lovely, actually,” Harry concurred.

“Yeh bein’ good for Mitch and Sarah?”

“Mhmm,” Tallulah nodded.

“We had pizza for dinner.”

“That sounds yummy,” Harry enthused, trying to let his daughter know he had his full attention.

“It was bery good,” she sighed.

There was a long pause before Tallulah blurted out suddenly in the most serious tone, “When are you gonna shave the rest of your mustache? Mitchy was making fun of you today.”

Harry was caught between a gasp and a laugh, which resulted in him choking on his own spit. Y/N turned on her heels in the sand to look at him with wide eyes. 

“You okay?” Y/N mouthed quietly to Harry, completely oblivious to everything that had happened in the last thirty seconds.

Harry nodded, wiping the involuntary tears from his eyes as he coughed himself back to life and regained his composure.

“What exactly did Uncle Mitch say about my mustache?” he prodded.

Tallulah shrugged, subconsciously wiggling her loose bottom tooth with her tongue.

“Don’t ‘member. Just that you look weird with it.”

“Well that’s not a very nice thing t’ say, is it?”

“Mummy said you look weird, too,” Tallulah spouted without hesitation.

Her comment left Y/N’s mouth agape, covering her smile with her palm as Harry’s raised eyebrows feigned offense in her direction.

“She did?” Harry asked sarcastically, narrowing his eyes at her.

“Yeah,” Tallulah sighed as if it was exhausting having to tell your own father that his facial hair looks off-putting.

“I think you should shave it, too. It’s scratchy when you kiss me goodnight.”

All Harry could offer in return was stunned laughter while Y/N hid her face in Harry’s peck. Her bump pressed lightly into his and even though he was pretending to be mad at her, he wouldn’t dare think about pushing her off of him - not while she was this warm and cozy against his chest. 

“Well, if mummy really hates it I suppose I’ll get rid of it. But,” Harry pauses and pulls Y/N out from where she had burrowed her face into his sweater.

“I think I might know a trick that’ll convince her t’ let me keep i-”

“Enough!” Y/N exclaimed, clamping both of her hands around Harry’s mouth.

Harry chuckled against her palm and poked his tongue through his lips to lick her fingers, which sent her hands flying back down to her leggings so she could wipe them dry.

“I swear to god, Harry. You’re five years old,” she joked with a disgusted expression on her face, to which Tallulah had something to say to that. 

“No, I’m five years old!”

The two adults laughed in unison.

“Alright, Lulah. We’re gonna go inside now. ‘S gettin’ kinda cold out,” Harry said.

“We’ll call you tomorrow before bed. Alright, lovebug?” Y/N added.

“Okay,” Tallulah huffed.

“We love you, Lulah,” Harry spoke softly into the microphone.

“Love you, too...Daddy wait!”

“What is it?” he asked.

“Give the baby kisses for me. And no bikes!”

Harry wanted to laugh, but he also wanted to cry, so he settled on a closed-mouthed smile that was enough to convince Tallulah that he was unbothered by what she said.

“Kisses for the baby and no bikes. Got it,” he nodded.

“Okay, I’m gonna go eat some sweets with Sarah!” the child yelled, suddenly energetic like she had temporarily forgotten that her and Sarah had baked cookies twenty minutes before Y/N called.

“Alright, but it’s almost bed time so not too m-!” was all Harry could answer to before his daughter ended the call and presumably raced to where ever Sarah was in their house. 

“‘S like she doesn’t even miss us,” Harry mumbled as he placed Y/N’s phone in his back pocket and began walking back up to the cottage with his arm wrapped around Y/N’s shoulder. 

Y/N hummed, basking in the warmth that radiated from Harry’s chest as he held her.

“They’re just buttering her up. She’ll be crying to leave by the time we get back.”

“Just don’t really know why they were so keen on keepin’ her t’ be honest.”

Harry positioned himself one step behind her as they walked up the stone steps together, keeping one hand on the small of her back. Y/N peered over her shoulder at him, her tight lips curling up into a smirk as if to say she knew something he didn’t.

“What?” Harry asked.

Y/N shrugged, “Promised I wouldn’t tell.”

Harry clearly didn’t like that answer, because he moved his hand that was supporting her waist and quickly pinched her bum.

“Tell me,” he demanded, eyebrows scrunched together and lips pursed together in what could be considered a childish pout that mimicked Tallulah’s.

Y/N sucked her lips into her mouth, contemplating whether or not she should spill the beans on the news Sarah had shared with her a few weeks prior.

“They’re gonna start trying for a baby soon,” she whispered as if were a long-kept secret told in a room full of nosey people despite the two of them being alone on the otherwise desolate beach.

Harry’s ears perked up, a wide smile adorning his face from ear to ear.

“No fucking way,” he mumbled, and suddenly all of Mitch’s incessant hammering of baby questions he’d sent Harry’s way in the past few months suddenly making a lot of sense.

Harry thought he was trying to be a good friend and stay engaged in Y/N’s pregnancy, but now he understands the real reason behind his behavior.

Y/N nodded deviously as they make their way into the living room of the cottage.

“They’ve been asking everyone they know with kids to let them come over just to see if they can handle it. I mean, if you ask me, I think they’ll do great. Nothing wrong with trying it before buying it, I guess,” she said with a shrug.

“God, he’s gonna be such a good dad,” Harry was practically beaming for his closest friend.

“I know,” Y/N agreed, walking over to Harry to hold both sides of his head in her hands as if he was a disobedient puppy being disciplined.

Her bump prevented her from getting too close to Harry’s chest, the roundest part of her belly nudging Harry’s tummy.

“They’re both very excited. Which is why, when he finally decides to tell you, you have to act surprised. Act like he told you you just won the lottery or something. Alright?”

Harry sarcastically changed his facial expression to mock bewilderment. His eyebrows rose well off into his forehead and his jaw nearly dropped to the floor as he gasped.

“How’s that? Think he’ll buy it?”

Y/N jokingly jabbed him in the shoulder.

“Smartass. I’m going to take a shower. I’m sticky and I smell like the ocean.”

“Guess I gotta keep workin’ on it, then.”

When he’s done cleaning up what was left of their dinner, he heads to the master bedroom with the intention of washing up in the shower after Y/N. He’s messing around with the A/C unit on the window to make sure it’s not set to a temperature that will smother them in their sleep and unpacking their luggage into the wooden dresser, where an antique turntable rests.

Stacked long the side of the record player, there was a handful of old vinyl, most of which Harry either recognized or new very well. He was actually shocked to find a Shuggie Otis album in the collection, to which he quickly slipped the record out of the worn sleeve and set the needle to the edge and waited for the soft sound to fill the room while he worked. 

“That thing works?” Y/N’s voice broke up the old 70s tune as she exited the bathroom with her hair tied up with one of Harry’s scrunchies that she stole out of his toiletry bag, wrapped in only a towel that barely fit around her form.

“I know,” Harry agreed, “Needs a new needle but other than that ‘s in pretty good shape.”

“Leave it to you to find a rental with 70s records in the bedroom,” there was a lighthearted tone in her voice as Y/N poked fun at him.

She padded over to her luggage in the corner of the room for a change of clothes, only to realize Harry had unpacked it all for them. As she’s rummaging through the drawers trying to figure out where Harry had put what, she lets her towel drop to the floor freely.

Harry doesn’t know how must time has passed, but he knows he’s staring. He’s staring at the water droplets that drip from the stray hairs on the nape of her neck and run down her bare back. He’s staring at the swell of her stomach where their baby lies, at the faded, almost-shiny stretch marks on the sides and the newer, darker ones on the underside that had only recently broken through. He’s staring at the bracelet on her wrist, the one that’s braided pink and blue with three beads on it - one ‘H’, one ‘T’ and one heart. Tallulah made it for her at school one day and told her the heart was for the baby and also because she loved her. It was hanging on by its last few threads, threatening to snap as each day passed, but she refused to take it off.

All he does know is that he loves her so much that he thinks none of this is real and that he’ll wake up one day and be in his early twenties again with no direction in life and the insidious feeling that he’ll die alone without ever finding his “person.” It’s when Y/N called out to him and snapped him out of his thoughts that he’s realized his underwear are suddenly feeling incredibly tight.

“Har,” Y/N beckoned him away from whatever had been occupying his brain.

“Hmm?” 

He resituated himself on the bed and crossed his legs in an attempt to hide himself from her.

“I said the hot water in there’s kinda shit, so you’ll probably want to wait a little bit before you get in.”

“‘S alright,” Harry dismisses, “Come ‘ere.”

He draws her towards him with an outstretched hand, navigating her around the bedpost and over to the side where he had been sitting. With the gentlest of touches, he runs his fingers over her bare legs. The coolness of his rings don’t make well with her skin that was still extremely warm from her shower, causing hundreds of tiny goosebumps to erupt around her thighs. Harry raises her shirt, one of his that she stole when her own clothes became too uncomfortable, but even now she’s nearly stretching this one to its limit, and rests it on top of her bump.

She doesn’t question him, doesn’t chastise him. She lets him love on her, lets him press kisses to her skin just above her belly button (making sure to give an extra one from Tallulah per her request) and rest his cheek against her stomach while his other hand feels around on the other side in hopes to feel the baby move or kick or do something to let him know that they’re there. Lucky for Harry, baby knows when their dad is around and is quick to make themselves known, so he takes a second to savor these last few moment he’ll have with his newest bub before they’re earth-side in a little less than two months.

Y/N lets him be because she knows how important this is to Harry. She knows that he never got these moments with Tallulah and that it’s one of the things that plagued him during those nights where he feels lonely despite her being asleep right next to him. He never got to feel her kick in her mum’s tummy and he didn’t get to see her grow from the size of a pea to the size of a melon before she was welcomed by her parents and the rest of her family that had been waiting anxiously for her arrival. 

No, Tallulah was dropped on his doorstep like a wet kitten in the middle of the night. Shivering and crying and just needing someone to hold her and tell her that it was going to be alright because her mother had decided she’d be better off elsewhere. Of course, she was too small to remember, but Harry could never forget it.

So, it’s the least she can do. To let Harry love on her. Love on them.

Her eyes catch his once or twice and she can see the gears in his head turning. There’s something on his mind and he’s hesitant to tell her what it is. Y/N lifts his head by tilting his chin up, her index finger brushing over the healed scar on the underside of his jaw from a few months prior.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” she whispered.

Harry shakes his head, a grin on his lips.

“‘M just really, really happy right now. Happy tha’ I’m here w’ you.”

Y/N smiles back at him genuinely before pulling away from his grasp and gesturing to his lap.

“And I’m happy that I’m here with you. Seems like your little friend is really happy, too.”

A soft groan emits from Harry chest, having realized he’d uncrossed his legs at some point and his very prominent bulge had come into Y/N’s view.

“Sorry, lovie. Didn’t mean t’ make it like tha-”

“I’m just messing with you. You know,” she ponders, “I was half-way kidding when I asked about your lungs earlier. But... This will be the last time we’re kid-free for a while,” she taunted.

“Are yeh asking?” Harry jests and points his thumb towards the bathroom door, “‘Cos I was actually plannin’ on just having a wank in the shower.”

“Oh, okay,” Y/N shrugs and moves his hands off of her waist as she pretends to walk towards the living room.

Before she can take two steps, Harry’s standing up and pulling her back into him for a kiss. It’s full of heat and passion and almost knocks Y/N off of her feet. He cradles her head in his large hands and moves to whisper in her ear.

“Really gonna let me fuck yeh?”

A quiet chuckle escapes her lips, to which she replies, “What else did you think we were gonna do all week?”

He’s unable to bite back his own laugh, and it’s the sweetest sound to ever grace Y/N’s ears.

“Then get on the bed and take yeh clothes off.”

They work quickly, as they’ve conditioned themselves to do over the years of squeezing in any time they can together before they’re interrupted. Y/N lies back on her elbows as she waits for Harry to undo his pants and her breath catches in her throat when his boxers hit the floor. 

His cock is hard, not fully, but the sight of the first few beads of glistening precum causes a shiver to run down her spine. She’s blown him a handful of times since he’s been in recovery, but she’s been far too pregnant and he’s been far too injured lately to engage in any kind of actual fun. It’s safe to say that they’re both more than ready. 

Harry scratches at his scalp, unsure of how to word his questions as he looks her body up and down.

“How do you...erm...how do you wanna-?”

“My stomach, please,” Y/N says with a laugh.

She quickly reaches for one of the pillows behind her and gets on all fours, wedging the object underneath her bump to keep some of the weight off of her back. Slowly, she arches her spine down towards the mattress, and the glimpse Harry catches of her pussy through the light of the setting sun is enough to send another jolt straight to his cock.

Harry wastes no time joining her on the bed, caressing her hips and moving back to massage the plump skin of her ass. He leans down on top of her, flips her hair over to one side, and begins sucking on the sensitive skin between her neck and jaw.

“Gonna let me taste yeh first, right?” he mumbles into her skin.

Y/N hums in response, attempting to rock backwards in order to feel Harry’s cock rub against her backside. She hears Harry laugh, presumably because he’s caught on to her neediness, so it only pushes him further to be the tease he’s notorious for being.

He sponges wet kisses down her back, getting a rise out of every audible breath that leaves Y/N’s throat.

“Relax, baby,” Harry says when he feels her growing tenser as his kisses travel closer to where she needs him the most.

“Gonna get yeh there. Just gotta be patient.”

Harry presses one last kiss on the final notch of her spine before using one of his hands to spread her legs open just a little bit further. When he parts the globes of her ass, his mouth waters. Her pussy is shimmering with her arousal, perfect and on display just for him. 

He tests the waters by running the tip of his tongue from her clit up to her center and he hears a sigh of relief leave Y/N’s lungs at the contact. Next, he’s massaging her folds, exploring her and refamiliarizing himself with the way she tasted. Harry feels her relax into the mattress with each lap of his tongue against her, silently begging him for more. His tentativeness allows him to read her body language and he draws back momentarily to spread her lips apart with his middle and index finger.

The cool air against her core stuns Y/N, but is quickly drowned out with a moan when she feels Harry’s warm saliva drip from her ass down to her clit. His mouth is back on her before she can recover from the sensation, lapping her up and flicking at her clit with his tongue and driving her mad. He’s got his nose buried inside of her as he devours her in the way that he’s really been yearning to for months (he doesn’t count the late night or early morning quickies because he claims he never gets to spend as much time taking care of her as he really wants to). The scruff from his mustache is staunch against her soft folds, but Harry’s tongue is quick to soothe the burn and she loves it.

He smirks against her as she lets out a particularly loud moan when his facial hair brushes against her clit. What was that about shaving my mustache? he thinks to himself but does not dare say aloud.

When he senses that she needs even more, his fingers move from spreading her apart to pressing against her opening. Gathering her wetness on his digits, he slowly pumps them in and out of her. Y/N’s mewls and whimpers are like music to his ears and only spurs him on further. He ruts his hips against the comforter, anything to relieve the throbbing between his legs that is a result of how pliable she’s become for him. She’s soaking the rings on his fingers in the most picture-perfect way and Harry truly genuinely can’t get enough of it; and neither can she. Which is why he’s confused when one of her hands swings around her backside to stop Harry from working her open.

“Har-” she pants.

He withdrawals all contact immediately and peaks his head around to look at her face.

“Yeh good?” he asks as she’s stands up on her knees and turns around to face him.

“‘M great. Wanna be on top now,” she says, her lips plump and swollen from biting down on them so harshly that she nearly drew blood.

“You sure? Yeh don’t want me t’ finish yeh first?”

His eyes dart from her lust-blown eyes to her round belly.

“Mhm. Now lay your pretty ass down before I change my mind.”

She doesn’t have to tell him twice and he’s rolling over on his back, working his way to prop himself up against the headboard. His cock is red and leaking against his stomach, excruciatingly waiting to be buried inside of his girl. He wonders why she’s staring at him with an annoyed expression on her face, but then she speaks up.

“Do you see how pregnant I am? Gonna have to lay all the way down, shit head.”

He does as he’s told and he’s honestly scared that he’ll cum in five seconds if she doesn’t get on with it. 

“I swear to god, if you laugh at me,” she grunts as she straddles his waist, “I’ll cut it off.”

“‘M not gonna lau-”

It’s his turn to moan aloud when she grips onto his cock, running it across her folds to collect as much wetness as she can before she allows him to stretch her out. He’s focusing so much on not losing it right then and there that he doesn’t realize she’s stopped and is waiting for the go-ahead. Through his dark, thick lashes, he nods; as if she would have to ask.

Harry reaches for her hands as she lowers herself onto him, the two of them squeezing a bit too harshly when she reaches the last few inches. The burn consumes Y/N from the inside and out, but it’s never felt so right to either of them. 

She’s not moving just yet, but her cunt is pulsing around him and it feels almost as good as the real thing. They’re staring at each other, both with looks that relay more than words.

“Love you,” Harry’s face softens as he looks up at her.

“Love you, too,” Y/N smiles as she leans down as far as she can in search of a kiss.

He meets her in the middle and their lips find one another and mash together in harmony. The rocking of their hips reminds both of them what they’re actually doing, and causes both of them to gasp at the way Y/N pumped Harry half-way in and out of her. 

When she’s settled back down on the base of his cock, she begins slowly rutting herself back and forth. It takes her just a little bit longer than usual to work up a steady rhythm, but when she’s got it, boy does she got it and it feels so fucking good. The tip of Harry’s cock is pressing against the deepest parts of her and before she knows it, there’s a warm coil winding up in her tummy that bounds itself tighter and tighter inside of her.

She needs to go faster and she needs to go faster now, so she braces her hands on Harry’s chest as she continues to fuck herself on Harry’s cock. Harry lets out a sound that she can’t tell apart between a groan of pleasure and one of pain. His hands dart quickly from where they’d been gripping at her thighs to grip at her wrists.

“Can’t do tha’, lovie. Not the ribs.”

“Shit,” she laughs, subconsciously clenching down on his shaft in the process.

“Sorry.”

“‘S okay,” Harry reassures her as he repositions her hands on his shoulders so she can still have something to grab on to.

“Keep going.” 

Her bump is now cradled against Harry’s stomach and it allows her to find relief in the way that her clit is brushing against the trimmed nest of hair that lies around the base of his thick, throbbing cock. He’s twitching inside of her so much that she can feel it alongside her thrusts as they continue. They both won’t last much longer and they know it. 

“‘M getting close.”

“I know,” Harry pants beneath her.

She switches positions, now with her fingers digging so hard into the meat of Harry’s thighs that her knuckles are changing color. She’s able to lift her hips up and down a bit more from this angle, and it allows Harry’s cock to nudge against her sweet spot.

“Feels so good, H,” she whimpers so quietly that almost Harry couldn’t even hear it.

“‘S that it? Right there?” he mocks as he works at meeting her thrusts with his own.

The best he gets from Y/N is a nod as she focuses the best she can on getting herself there. She’s coating him with her juices with each pump and with one glance down at where they’re joined together nearly shoots Harry over the edge.

“Yeh gonna cum f’ me?” Harry asks as his thumb reaches under her to begin rubbing circles on her clit.

“Gonna give me a good one?”

His movements coupled with his words catalyze the tightness within her, threatening to snap at any moment. She’s definitely sweaty and tired of being on top, but she’s so close now that she wills away the pain in her lower back and thighs.

“Come on, bunny. Give it to me.”

He works with that he can and makes sure he’s slamming into her as deep as he can, speeding up the pace he’s making with her clit in the process. 

She cums with a strangled, “Fuck,” and a shrill cry of his name, and that’s all he needs to meet his end as well. The world is black and quiet for the two of them for just a brief moment, and then they’re both seeing all of the stars in the galaxy.

Her walls are coated with the warm ropes of his seed and spills out of her as she milks him, coaxing all she can out of both hers and Harry’s orgasms. Y/N can feel the last few twitches of Harry’s cock inside of her and her movements slow to a stop. 

His cum is splashed along her inner thighs and around Harry’s shaft, and they’re both struggling to catch their breath. Y/N feels sorry for him for a brief second when she sees him clutching onto the left side of his ribs, but then she remembers the situation that put him there in the first place and great incredible fuck she just gave him and so she decides not to dwell on it too much. 

Serves him right.

She collapses on the bed beside him, the two of them staring idly at the ceiling. It’s nearly dark now, the sun having set long ago and only their silhouettes are visible in the moonlight. Harry reaches over to pet her cheek and press a kiss into her hair as their breathing slowly but surely evens out and they come to.

They’re both too tired and fucked out to have a lucid conversation, so they’ll save that for tomorrow. No. Right now was for cuddles and falling asleep to the sounds of each other’s soft breaths and the peace of mind knowing that they can do this every single night for the rest of their lives if they wanted to because they’re getting married and they have a family together and they’re so in love with each other that nothing else matters.

When Y/N finally manages to muster up the energy to lift herself from the mattress and waddle to the bathroom, Harry breaks the silence.

“Hey,” his voice is calm and collected and there’s a smirk on his face.

“Hmm?” she answers as she cranes her neck and braces herself on the door frame of the master bathroom.

Her other hand is caressing her bump, a tick that she’d picked up over the months whenever she wasn’t doing anything important.

“Sit on m’ face in the morning?”

There’s that laugh again. The one that Harry loves and swears came straight from the angels above.

“With pleasure,” she winks as the door closes behind her.

[spanishskulduggery]

It seems like in Spanish a lot of nouns are just converted into verbs. Like the one that means to become summer that you posted a while back? Or like I just saw the verb engavetar and I couldn't find it on wordreference until I looked up "gaveta" and realized it meant filing drawer, with the verb meaning to put away in a drawer/file drawer. Are there any patterns/interesting info about this you can give us?

In my experience, it's usually the other way around, where a lot of verbs have a "participle" which is then used to make nouns and adjectives.

The participle is normally done for the perfect tenses; in Spanish it's some conjugation of haber and then the participle which is usually something ending in -ado or -ido... but there are irregulars there too

As an example, comer is "to eat", haber comido is "to have eaten", and from that you get la comida "food" or "meal"

...

In my experience it's not always that nouns are converted into verbs, but many of the major verbs have branching "relatives"

As an example:

poder is "to be able to"... it was so common that el poder is "power" or "ability"; related to it is la potencia or potencial and further down the line you have posible or imposible

And you might not recognize it until you see poder in past tense and see puse, pusiste, pudo, pudieron, pudimos etc

...

And it can exist for the irregulars too.

volver is "to return", in its past participle it's haber vuelto "to have returned"

The noun form is then la vuelta which is frequently "a trip" or "journey" or "going back and forth"; as in la vuelta al mundo "a trip around the world" or like la vuelta al mundo en ochenta días which is "Around the World in 80 Days"; in some places la vuelta al mundo can be a Ferris wheel

You also have words like de ida y vuelta "round-trip" as an adjective, or de vuelta "coming back" which is an adverb

Related to it, you have something like revolver "to revolve", and "revolution", or "devolve" or "evolve" etc etc etc

And distantly related you get voluta as a "spiral" or la voltereta "somersault" or "cartwheel", because volver is related to the idea of "turning" not just "to return", but you do see that "turn" in there even in English

...

Another irregular is dormir "to sleep" which is haber dormido which is normal, and dormido/a is "asleep"

But then its gerund form is durmiendo and you realize that there's a stem-changing with O=>UE, and so you get words related to sleeping or being "dormant", like la Bella Durmiente "Sleeping Beauty", duermevela "restless sleep" where vela is related to "vigil" or "wakefulness", or it goes back to normal spelling for things like dormilón/dormilona which is "sleepyhead"...

Similarly morir "to die" becomes irregular as haber muerto and then muerto/a "dead", la muerte "death", mortal "deadly" / "a mortal", inmortal "immortal / undying", mortífero/a "causing death", moribundo/a "death-bound" or "in the process of dying", la mortalidad "mortality", inmortalizar "to immortalize" etc etc etc

-

And honestly sometimes it becomes more abstract. Like hacer is "to do", hacer hecho. And then el hecho is "a fact", and la hazaña is "a deed" or "feat"

Then you realize hacer was once written with an F in older Spanish, and suddenly satisfacer "to satisfy" becoming satisfecho "satisfied" makes sense

And THEN you start seeing the -fy [which is like -ificar] suffix as "to make something", like deificar is "to deify" or "to make a deity" and it makes sense.

And THEN it gets weirder because you see hacer gets linked to la faz an older word for "face", and so you see la fachada "facade", la faceta "a facet"

...and it just spirals from there and your head spins

-

So in short, I think Spanish takes a lot of these overall concepts from Latin where there's usually the root word and very important root words become verbs

And it's hard to say - for me personally since I'm not a linguist or etymologist - which really came first... like did we see "sleep" first or did we have a word for "to sleep" and then adapt things around the concept or the verb?

-

I will say that in general if you know your past participles and verb conjugations you can find a whole lot of root words very easily. Sometimes I can puzzle out certain words based on the root. Or at least decide what general concept they have to deal with

Not every single time, but it sure helps. Though etymology journeys also help learning things or seeing patterns, but that's more of a linguistic approach than just "learn the language memorize the words know the conjugations"

[jennyyyeeettt]

Classical studies tingies

Before I say anything - i'm just a student - just keep that in mind and correct me if I was wrong!! Also go drink some water 😑

So

1- I was studying the tenses in ancient Greek language and my professor mentioned in the text book a "strong Aorist" and I was like "?? That's my 3rd year why didn't I hear of it before" so anyways after some research I realized that STRONG AORIST IS ACTUALLY 2ND AORIST!!!

(2nd Aorist is translated the same as Aorist but it just looks different, it's stem doesn't look like the main verb when conjugating)

2- today in the lecture the professor decided to give us 3 "simple" sentences to translate from English to ancient Greek and I realized -besides that I need to work on my vocabulary, Bec that's so obvs- I also need to revise grammar of last years Bec I have no idea what a de ponant verb was, or how a contracted verb is made or what did the personal pronouns look like ALSO THE PARTICIPLE!!! WHAT IS THAT????

So ya putting on my list "REVISE ALL THE ANCIENT GREEK GRAMMAR"

I feel a bit doomed but excited... Does that make sense?

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

3- is it me or is ancient Greek actually more interesting than Greek... Tho Greek is "easier" 😐...

4- I just found out it's called "classical studies" and not "department of ancient European civilizations" why didn't anyone tell me 😑 I knew from tik tok SHAME ON U UNI 😭

5- confession TIME : I HAVEN'T READ THE ILLIAD AND THE ODYSSEY AS A WHILE YET 😭😭😭😭

Idk if y'all can tell... I'm a tiny bit stressed 🙂

I really REALLY LOVE MY MAJOR THO

I love everything about it, the challenge the aesthetic, the complicated stuff u search for for hours to get 1 simple fact. I just love it.. Education wise I can't be happier..

Maybe if I was a psychology major that would have been fun too... But ya, I love that too