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humbledragon669 · 4 months ago

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S1E6 – The Very Last Day of the Rest of Their Lives P2 - from the dissolution of the Horsemen to Sunday (the very first day of the rest of their lives)

OK, cool. Nuclear holocaust avoided. That means that everything is going to be just fine and dandy now, right?

Oh, bloody hell Crowley, why’d do you have to be so pessimistic (realistic) all the time? I was taking my cue from the nice soothing music that this was time to relax. Well, before we go down the doom and gloom route again, let’s take a quick look at Crowley’s choice of words here, shall we?

Nothing’s over.

Hmm. Strange thing to say. Or is it? Remember this?

What if.. what if… this little speech from Crowley isn’t just referring to Armageddon? If he is in fact well aware that there were things that were said on the bandstand that need to be addressed? That he does not accept that he and Aziraphale are through? And that they are still going to have to be very careful about spending time together? His expression when he points out that Heaven and Hell are still on opposite sides conveys an air of disbelief that the angel could actually be naïve enough to believe that the avoidance of this particular Armageddon would fix everything.

After all, if Heaven and Hell are still desperate to get at each other’s throats, that means that he and Aziraphale are still expected to be pitted against one another, doesn’t it? You have to feel a bit sorry for the angel though, he genuinely does look like he thinks things are absolutely tickety-boo now.

As a side note, I got a little hung up on Aziraphale’s interrupted line here:

It’s as I’ve always said, at bottom…

Is it me, or is there no linguistical situation where that combination of words makes sense? The scripted line is actually a slightly amended line from the book:

If you take the trouble to look, deep down inside anyone, you’ll find that at bottom, they’re really quite…

I mean, the original makes a little more sense, but not really, or at least not to my mind. “Underneath it all” or “at heart” would make sense sure, but “at bottom”? Feels weird to me.

I can fully appreciate Crowley’s reluctance to try and relay the tale of the dissolution of the Horsemen of the Apocalypse to an ordinary human when he’s challenged by Anathema, but what I find interesting is Aziraphale’s storytelling. Setting aside the fact that explanations are clearly part of the role that it is customary for the angel to play when it comes to his and Crowley’s involvement (for that, see the expectant look that Crowley sends his way when Anathema won’t take no for an answer), why does he start “in the beginning”? I know Crowley said it was a long story, but 6000 years long? That’s a bit of an understatement. See, I can’t help but feel like Aziraphale is actually launching into the tale of him and Crowley, and that he sees this non-Armageddon simply as part of their own story. Notice how he sets himself and Crowley up as the main characters from the very start (not to mention the attempt he makes at flattery, calling the demon “wily”)? And if you didn’t notice it, Madame Tracy certainly does:

The fact that Aziraphale launches into the story so quickly, and at such a fine level of detail, I find myself wondering if he (or in fact, they) have actually spent time constructing this story in the event that they ever are asked about their relationship. Or indeed, if he has already told that story to someone else before. I’m sure that we as the audience know that his timing and understanding has fallen pretty wide of the mark here, just like Crowley does.

Isn’t this just adorable? Crowley could have told him, shouted at him even, to be quiet, even to shut up, but instead he takes control of the situation (you could almost say he was rescuing Aziraphale from making a fool of himself…) in a way that conveys a great deal of familiarity and kindness. I suspect that this is a moment, similar to him saying “nothing’s over” earlier on, where the things he doesn’t say to the angel are much more poignant and revealing than the things he does, non-spoken communications between this pair being the running theme throughout the show that it is.

Side note on the soundscape that accompanies the arrival of Gabriel and Beelzebub: we can hear the typical miracle noise as Gabriel appears but there isn’t one to signal Beelzebub’s arrival. I do rather like the noise that’s been chosen to represent the closing up of the earth that she emits from though – it’s like a cross between a crackling file and a creaky door. Feels very apt.

Quick question: how does Gabriel know Adam’s name? He didn’t know which of the children was the Antichrist at all in the first place, never mind any of their names.

I feel like Gabriel’s assertion that “you can’t just refuse to be who you are” is a pretty obvious reference to two things. Firstly, the running theme that to be human is to have free will. Gabriel’s insistence that Adam has no free will suggests that he does not consider the child to be human in any way at all. Secondly, that he does not accept that Aziraphale or Crowley could be anything other than what they are expected to be by others. With those two factors in mind, I find it interesting that this is the point at which Aziraphale chooses to speak up, and I don’t think I’m wrong in saying that anybody that misses the expression of blind panic on Crowley’s face as the angel steps forward really isn’t watching properly.

The demon shouldn’t panic though, because Aziraphale has a plan. Which he desperately tries to communicate, again without words, to Crowley:

If that’s not a massive indicator that this pair being able to communicate without words, I don’t know what else you need. At the very least it makes clear that they can understand the subtext that is being sent their way. And hasn’t Aziraphale stumbled across the most amazing loophole here? Let’s just take a moment to appreciate the bind he manages to put Gabriel and Beelzebub in and start with the definition of ineffable (which, until watching this show, I didn’t know).

So, the very fact that the Ineffable Plan, by its very definition, cannot be expressed in words, means that it cannot be the same as the Great Plan, which has not only just been described by Beelzebub, has apparently also been written down somewhere. Genius, Aziraphale, really. And his point really hits home once he’s joined by Crowley, whose presence fills in all the gaps of credibility that the angel has. It’s another instance of us being shown how they work so much better together as a team because they complement each other perfectly. And they know it:

We’re being given a clue that the situation is de-escalating here through the music, which is a replaying of the “Man with a Harmonica” styling we heard earlier in the episode, except this time it’s less prominent, slower, and less heavily orchestrated. It signals to us that the stand off is resolving, not in a mass of fire and flame but more like a tyre with a slow puncture. The music also serves to underline the moment of comic irony from Crowley and Aziraphale with their gleeful acceptance of the “blame” for putting a stop the war (as if that was something to be ashamed of).

Whilst we’re on the topic of sound (again), I just want to say that the noise we hear Gabriel and Beelzebub disappear makes me giggle. I think it sounds like someone, maybe even a child, making a fake retching noise. No idea why I find this so funny.

Quick note: Anathema really needs to work on her consistency of information that she holds to be true:

NEWT: Perhaps it’s a volcano. ANATHEMA: There aren’t any volcanoes in England.

Well, it wasn’t that long ago that you were Newt told you the same thing about tornadoes, and look how that turned out.

So, Armageddon was avoided but now Satan’s on his way to kick some butt. That about sum things up as they stand? That’s certainly how Crowley sees it, and he is all out of options for any of them. But here’s where things get interesting for us.

There is only one thing that Crowley needs to do in what he likely believes are going to be the last moments of his existence – look at Aziraphale and tell him, in as few words as he possibly can for time purposes, that he values him. And for the record, I am of the belief that “that was that” is not a reference to Earth, or even to his own existence, but to the relationship that he and Aziraphale have shared. Stings a bit that line if you consider that to be potential subtext, doesn’t it? What stings more is the realisation that Aziraphale, still holding out hope that they can fix the situation, is doing something that he has been doing for Crowley for a long time – being Crowley’s hope as well as his own. He is, in an incredibly beautiful way, bringing light to Crowley’s darkness. And he is fully invested in their partnership here too:

We can’t give up now.

Not I, or you. We. Did I get any of you with that light into darkness thing? Maybe I’ll have you with this instead.

There are a couple of things to say about this little stand Aziraphale makes for himself, and I’ll leave the one that always makes me feel like there’s something in my eye until the end of the paragraph. This demand from Aziraphale that Crowley is the one that finds a solution to the problem is a strong indicator, as has been discussed before, of the demon always being the one to save the day. It’s part of his role, given to him by Aziraphale, and one that he happily plays because he enjoys rescuing the angel. There is, of course, a lovely subtext in this that the “bad” one is actually the hero. The fact that Aziraphale picks up the sword here (no longer flaming now – is that to do with intent of the bearer?) is a clear sign he’s giving Crowley that he knows he’s not getting out of this situation without making some compromises of his own. Despite the fact that the sword was his originally, the idea that he’s picked it up with the intent of using it to fight offensively rather than defensively goes against his gentle nature. It’s meant as a message to Crowley to show that he means business. And it does the job – we can see Crowley registering the out-of-character nature of the action and rallying himself a little to try to replicate it. Lastly, there’s that threat:

Come up with something or… Or, I’ll never talk to you again.

Except. Except. It’s not really a threat, is it? Let’s have a quick look at what the original script had down for this line:

Come up with something or… Or, I’m never going to talk to you again.

It’s a very subtle difference. But it makes it a lot clearer that this isn’t a threat – it’s a statement of what will happen if they don’t find a way out. This isn’t the angel throwing out the only thing he can think of to say out of spite, it’s him spelling it out for Crowley the real consequences for them. And you can see how frightened he is by the realisation of it:

The stage directions at this point are pretty clear about both the intended effect of those words, and the resulting action that are to take place:

Crowley nods. That one hurts. What the hell. Crowley snaps his fingers … and time stops.

Obviously there was a bit of scope creep on the mechanism for Crowley stopping time between the script being written and the end product. Interestingly, this stopping of time appears to take Crowley a lot more effort than the previous instances we’ve seen him do. It’s also missing the trademark noise that has accompanied this particular brand of miracle (the popping noise), but there are some elements of the more generic miracle noise underneath the epic-sounding choir in the soundtrack. This is the first time we’ve seen Crowley also transporting himself and others to a different place whilst time has been stopped, and we are given no explanation of where this place is. The script suggests it’s all in Adam’s imagination, or possibly Crowley’s. If it’s Crowley’s I can understand why both he and Aziraphale now have their wings, as it would help convey to Adam that their intentions are good. If it’s actually Adam’s imagination, that would suggest that he himself has pictured them with their wings, which would further suggest he is aware of their true nature, despite this never having been addressed (at least in the series, there is a line in the book that spells this out a bit more clearly – “I know all about you two.”). Interestingly Aziraphale’s sword is flaming again now (which would pose some questions depending on who is responsible for that – Aziraphale? The person whose imagination they’re residing in?) and it’s only now that Crowley chooses to adorn his glasses.

Despite the perilous nature of the situation, Aziraphale still manages to have not one, but two realisations of his own in the time bubble. Yes, that’s right I had said two. The first of those is something he has been winding his way inevitably towards for most of the season – that he can see that the virtues of being human make for a better being than one that is solely of Heaven or Hell. That realisation is quickly followed that the realisation doesn’t just apply to Adam but to himself and Crowley too. Not onboard? Check out the knowing glance he throws Crowley’s way when he delivers the line:

He knows that, morally at least, the pair of them are both much closer to being human than angel or demon now. I suspect he also knows that the admittance of that is both a compliment to Crowley and an acknowledgement of something that the demon has known for a long time.

I do not think it a coincidence that Adam is pictured with an angel on one side and a demon on the other in both this and the previous scene (on the tarmac): that image has been the stereotypical image used to depict a conscience for a very long time. What I do find interesting in this particular representation of that is that both the angel and demon are there in order to support the human they are tasked with helping, and that they intend to work together.

Side note: Crowley uses the tyre iron from the Bentley to restart time. Again, I find it interesting that this instance of him stopping time appears to be quite a strain for him given that previous (and future) instances will be easily started and stopped with the click of his fingers.

Really quick side note (just in case you didn’t know): Satan is played by a certain Benedict Cumberbatch, though you’d struggle to recognise him beneath all the CGI.

Ah phew, Satan has been dismissed just like the Horsemen. Perhaps it was just a necessity of shooting that Crowley and Aziraphale were stood so far apart prior to Satan’s dismissal, but they certainly don’t waste any time before they’re standing together again.

Either way (and I choose to believe they made a conscious decision to stand together), it would have been difficult to get this shot if they’d still been standing eight feet apart:

It’s a shot we all deserved – Crowley smiling (actually smiling!) whilst Aziraphale gazes lovingly into his eyes.

Quick note: Aziraphale does not wipe the top of the bottle after Crowley has been drinking from it before taking his own swig (this interaction is slightly different in the script, where Aziraphale passes the bottle to Crowley instead, and actually does wipe the bottle top before he does so). Also, where has that bottle of wine come from?

Just a few lines ago I wrote about how there was no time wasted between these two in coming back together. Well, now we see Aziraphale wasting no time in returning to flirt mode. This cheeky side-eye he gives Crowley when he tells Lesley that he’s been sitting on the sword is priceless:

Or how about this once-over he throws over, with the cue word from Lesley being “wife”:

And Crowley does appear to have noticed – he turns his attention to the angel at the first chance he gets, disguising the turn of his head as him simply following Lesley’s departure.

Prior to Aziraphale’s discovery that his bookshop has actually been burned down, there’s a moment where you can see him physically deflate with disappointment that he and Crowley are going to be apart.

You can see how difficult this is for him to say – he doesn’t actually manage to say the whole sentence until his second attempt at it. I can’t help but feel like this is a nod to their break-up on the bandstand – whilst he said what he did with honest intentions, it’s all come back to bite him in the ass now that the World hasn’t actually ended. It feels to me like the subtext here is along the lines of “I understand if you don’t want to be around me”, but I also feel that this is him fishing for a rejection of this idea from Crowley, like he’s really desperate for him to say “no, don’t be so ridiculous, all is forgiven” (no pun intended. Well, maybe a little bit of pun intended). You can see him waiting for the verdict, albeit in a very blurry fashion, in the foreground of the shot. It’s pretty heartbreaking that not only does he not get what he’s looking for, but that Crowley has to deliver the soul-destroying news of the bookshop being gone for the second time, which he does in the kindest and most compassionate way that he can. It’s at this point that he offers his apartment as a place to stay for. My question about this little section is this: had Crowley, mistakenly believing that Aziraphale knew he couldn’t go back to the bookshop, already assumed that the angel was going to stay with him that night? I think that’s highly likely. There is the tiniest flicker of a smile from Aziraphale at Crowley’s offer, and why wouldn’t there be? Crowley’s invitation suggests that things can be worked out between them, that he hasn’t completely bolloxed things up with his declaration that “it’s over”. He also looks pretty devastated when he realises that it’s probably a bad idea to take him up on the offer.

Crowley’s not taking no for an answer though, is he? And he wants to make sure that his message is getting through to Aziraphale loud and clear - his assertion that they are now on their own side is really his way of saying “I forgive you”. Well, Aziraphale does get the message loud and clear – he sits beside on him on a virtually empty bus and, we are led to believe, holds his hand. And I do choose to believe that’s exactly what happens – you can actually see Aziraphale’s hand reaching down towards Crowley’s, which looks as if it’s rested on his knee or thigh.

I understand that there was a Tweet at one time where Michael potentially confirmed that this had happened, but I have been unable to find it. And on that delightful Aziracrow bombshell, I think I’m at a really good place to wrap up this part, not least because I can create a banner from noticeboards from the next scene to start the next section instead of making up my own banners. As always, questions, comments, discussions: all welcome. See you next time 😊

#good omens #episode analysis #good omens season 1 #ineffable idiots #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley #head canon #crowley loves aziraphale #aziraphale loves crowley #madame tracy #good omens gabriel #good omens beelzebub #good omens soundtrack #good omens music #anathema device #adam young

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narrans · 4 months ago

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Stellar Allies | Part Five

GT July | Stellar Allies | Part Five

Words: Overbearing, Out of Reach, Distortion

The question lingered in the back of Cliff’s mind for a few moments as the situation settled over him. It made perfect sense that Ol’oih, their newfound alien companion, would probably have crew members with him. If that thing that was in the sky was their ship, the pieces that broke off were probably also escape pods and not just meteorite debris as he and Jax originally thought.

With that being said, Cliff’s mind drew a complete blank. When they realized how close Ol’oih’s escape pod, what they thought was a meteorite, had landed, they’d abandoned all observation on the other chunks that broke from the main body. If he thought about the trajectory of where the main body was going, it was possible for them to maybe find out what happened to one of the pieces.

On the other hand, it was equally as possible th-.

“What did he ask?” Jax’s voice made Cliff jump. He’d been so focused trying to solve the question and the issues it presented that he completely forgot about keeping his friend in the loop. He looked down into the crate and saw Ol’oih’s hopeful features gazing back at him while Jax’s face held minor annoyance that he had to wait for Cliff to translate since he was the only one with a direct line of communication to the alien.

“I… sorry. He wanted to know if we knew what happened to the rest of the crew. I’m guessing the thing we saw falling from the sky last night was the main ship, and he wants to know if we know anything about the others,” stated Cliff. He looked down at Ol’oih and swallowed the dryness forming in his throat. “How many others were a part of your crew?”

“There are seven of us total,” Ol’oih pathed, not hesitating when being asked. He felt like he could trust these two, at least at the moment, and he needed to know anything and everything he could before planning his next move. “There is Captain Immott Imai, second-in-command Adda Noz’ex, medical officer Scix’en Trok, our two technical specialists Arcal Kor and Valaih Du’uhl, and then cultural specialist Q’crul Kaelis. Also, as stated before, I am the linguistic specialist. I was meant to be a translator and dialogue analyzer on our information gathering mission.”

The names came so quickly from their six-inch-tall alien companion that Cliff had no hope of trying to memorize or pronounce any of the names correctly. He doubted he could even list one of the names at the moment and instead continuing to listen as Ol’oih continued “pathing” to him.

“We were in orbit and descending in our ship to harness clearer readings when something happened aboard our ship. I do not know if it was an electrical issue or if we were struck, but whatever the case we began entering the atmosphere and had to abandon ship,” Ol’oih pathed as he felt a wave of sadness sweep over him.

I don’t even know if they’re alive. Best case scenario, they managed to rendezvous with the observation team here on the ground and are trying to track either my pod or my suit. Worst case scenario… they’ve been found.

Ol’oih remembered hearing stories and reading books written about the human race, and much of the literature read like a horror story. Capture. Torture. Containment. Uncooperativeness. Destruction. Granted, in those stories the alien race was often the aggressor, but Ol’oih’s people were different.

We’re Stren, not some warring race like the Off’el. We wouldn’t hurt them. It’s why we’re here – to gather information to see if they’re ready for true first contact. Are humans more like us? Or like the Off’el?

“Um… Ol’oih?” He looked up and could read it in the boys’ faces. Though nonverbal communication was limited from their various intercepted transmissions, the miniscule alien could tell that the information they boys had was going to be minimal and disappointing.

Amazing how much I can read just in their faces. It’s like my ciferi. Interesting.

“Yes?” Ol’oih pathed, making sure to speak with intention rather than let his internal thoughts mingle with what he wanted Clifford and Jaxson to hear.

“I’m sorry, but we don’t know what happened to your crewmates,” stated Cliff with a disappointed shake of his head. “We saw the big piece go by and probably crash north of us, but not any of the other fragments. That’s all we know. If anyone else was watching the sky last night, they’d probably be all over the area by now looking for meteorite fragments and maybe finding pieces of your ship.”

“And that’s if a hobbyist got to the pieces first. You know how close we are to Area 51? We’d be lucky if a hobbyist found what was left of your ship. If the government or other organization got to it first, there’s no way we’d find out wha-” Jax was cut off by a stern glare from Cliff, which Ol’oih immediately picked up.

“Wait. What was that? Please! Do not be dishonest with me now. Why did you cut Jaxson off? What is Area 51? And your… government? That is your elected republic officials, yes? Do they… know about us? About life beyond your orbit? Please! Clifford! Jaxson!” Ol’oih pathed. He could hear the desperation in his tone and hoped Cliff would understand how distraught he was.

And Cliff did.

He didn’t mean to shut down his best friend, but he was hoping to give the information a little at a time to not scare the alien. The last thing Cliff wanted was for the little guy to go rogue or hostile, especially while he was physically attached to the alien’s tail-like appendage. The fluctuating gradation of colors rippling over Ol’oih’s skin told Cliff that the alien was feeling distress and uncertainty, and rightfully so.

“Clifford? If you know something, I urge you to share it. Please! If my crew – my friends – are in danger, I need to try and help them. C-can you ask Jaxson to… to… explain? O-or you could! Please!” Ol’oih pathed again, boldly taking a step toward the boy’s hand and laying his palms against the base of the boy’s index finger.

Cliff hated he and his friend had contributed to it, but there was no changing it now. Cliff sighed and exchanged a look with Jax, who had obviously picked up on the fact that he’d shared a bit too much too fast based on the sheepishly guilty look on his face.

“He… wants you to explain.” Cliff gave a nod to his friend and, understanding his meaning, Jax jumped into the conversation. This time, however, Jax was obviously being a bit more precise with his words. He had just began talking as if it were just him and Cliff. It hadn’t occurred to him in that exact moment that the alien wouldn’t know about the conspiracies and rumors about what Jax was referring to.

“I… sorry. I didn’t want to scare you or anything,” apologized Jax. “It’s just… there’s a lot of weird stuff that happens. Um… do you know what a conspiracy is?”

“Conspiracy? No. Define, please,” pathed Ol’oih. He continued to take long, deep breaths to keep his body from thrumming nervously to the point where he might panic or shut down entirely.

“He doesn’t know what it means,” translated Cliff.

“Oh, um… well… a conspiracy is technically defined as a ‘secret plan by a group to do something unlawful or harmful;’ however, people… that is, us humans, sometimes use the word conspiracy when referring to something that may or may not be true because we don’t have enough evidence to back it up. There is supposed ‘evidence,’ but sometimes it comes from an unreliable source. Make sense?” asked Jax.

When Cliff shook his head, obviously translating for Ol’oih, Jax continued.

“Um… okay. Here’s an example. Some people don’t think that humans landed on the moon. Even though there are pictures and stories and all sorts of other pieces of ‘evidence,’ some people think it is a conspiracy – a lie – to cover up the truth that we never set foot on the moon. We say it’s a conspiracy because the people who are telling us that we landed on the moon are secretive and part of a larger organization that may or may not have an agenda.” Jax felt like he didn’t explain everything well, but Ol’oih seemed to be understanding because he looked back to Cliff and then back to him as Cliff translated once more.

“So, tell him about Area 51.”

“Right, so. Area 51 is a military base owned by the government. A lot of people, myself and Cliff included, think that Area 51 is a place where our government hides the existence of aliens from us. There have been countless stories and sightings of ships, in theory, but nothing has been confirmed officially. There are countless conspiracies that there’s UFO testing and alien research that goes on there, but no one really knows because everything there is classified as top secret and no one who works there will talk about what they actually do.

“Now, we actually live not too far away from Area 51, this top secret testing facility, which is what worries me because if we saw your ship, other people who work there might also have seen it and are investigating it right now. I was saying if we were lucky that others, like Cliff and I, might’ve gotten to the crash sites first and might be helping you and your crew; and that if we are unlucky, the people who work there might’ve gotten to the wreck sites first.

“Sorry… I… I’m sorry. I should’ve thought before blurting out stuff like that. I really hope your crew is okay,” said Jax as guilt constricted his chest. He was so used to talking openly with his friend about these kinds of things that it wasn’t even a second thought for him to think about what this information could mean to Ol’oih who, after hearing this, immediately felt faint.

Head swirling and body taking over, his legs buckled and he fell backwards completely limp. Thankfully, Cliff and Jax had both reached forward and caught him before he hit the hard ground. It only lasted a few seconds, but blackout was enough for Ol’oih to realize how dire his situation really was.

They’re not like us. How could we have missed this? Years of observation and we missed this? We knew about their wars and crimes against one another, and we’ve had our struggles too, but to know they’re more like Off’el?

Ol’oih had to know if his crewmates were okay. They had to be! Forcing control back over himself, Ol’oih pushed himself against the boys’ hands until he was upright and waited for the nausea to subside before daring to path back to Cliff again. There was one way he could tell if they were alright or not, but he couldn’t do it alone.

“Clifford, please. I need your help. I need to know if my crewmates are okay.” Images of his friends flashed before his eyes, and he intentionally allowed those images to path to the human boy. Simple things. Them eating meals together. Studying as a group. Leaning back in their pods as they started their expedition here to Earth.

“Woah… Did you just?” Cliff could have sworn that, as he blinked, some of Ol’oih’s memories flashed before his eyes like photo negatives from an old film camera. “Never mind. What can we do?”

“My escape pod. I need it. Please. It possesses equipment to locate their transponders. Also, a current map of our location, specifically that area Jaxson was referring to,” pathed Ol’oih. He knew he must sound overbearing at the moment, but that didn’t matter. What he needed was out of reach and this was the only way he could have peace of mind.

The alternative was far too distressing to consider so soon after he’d managed to find solace in these human allies who had found him.

“Y-yeah. Definitely. Um… Jax, would you grab Ol’oih’s escape pod? He says he’ll be able to find his crewmates with the tech he’s got on it,” said Cliff.

“Sure thing.” Jax carefully tilted his hand so Ol’oih was sitting entirely on Cliff’s fingers while he ran over and grabbed the pod from its hiding place.

“Ol’oih, it’s going to be okay,” Cliff reassured. “We’ll find them.”

I hope so, but what state will they be in when they’re found? Ol’oih wondered silently to himself.

Jax finally managed to pull out the escape pod and carefully set it down in the middle of Cliff’s bedroom. Both boys exchanged an awkward glance, knowing the pod wouldn’t fit inside of the crate comfortably. They knew they needed to bring Ol’oih to the pod, which meant picking him up. Feeling the urgency, Cliff decided to bite the bullet and addressed the issue head on.

“Um… Ol’oih? Is it okay if I… pick you up?” asked Cliff.

“Pick me up? What?” pathed Ol’oih.

“The pod won’t fit directly into this crate here, so we can either tilt the whole thing after pulling out the dishes and stuff, or I can just lift you out really quick and set you over there by your escape pod,” explained Cliff.

If he was being honest with himself, Ol’oih didn’t like the idea of being held. Some of the other beings his people interacted with on a daily basis were as large as humans and, as part of training, they had to simulate being held or carried in a plethora of positions.

Still, it made him uncomfortable.

His comfort, however, wasn’t the primary concern.

His entire body now almost completely consisting of yellow and gray hues, he pathed back, “That is fine, though I would prefer crouching to being encased.”

“Fair enough,” agreed Cliff. He gingerly slid his hand under Ol’oih’s feet while keeping his left hand nearby for stability and because Ol’oih’s tail, or “addon” as he called it, was still firmly imbedded into his flesh. “Ready?”

“Yes.”

Cliff inhaled a steadying breath as he lifted Ol’oih’s entire body up off of the ground. The little six inch tall alien was lighter than expected, and his balance was a bit unstable. Cliff guessed it was because his tail probably acted as a counterbalance when on unsteady surfaces, like that of a cat, and that he couldn’t use it at the moment and instead resorted to gripping onto Cliff’s fingers for dear life. It was fascinating to feel all four fingers on each hand grasp individually onto the ridges of his fingers, but Cliff would revel in the interaction later.

The moment the back of his hand was resting on the ground, Ol’oih rushed over to his ship and climbed inside, partially jerking Cliff forward since he hadn’t disconnected his tail.

In the pod, Ol’oih crouched and began typing as fast as possible any and all commands to ping the members of his crew. The lights flickered for a moment, making his heart sink, before glowing dimly. The image was a bit distorted, but the module was ready to receive instructions, and that’s exactly what he intended to do with it.

If they’re relatively close, I should be able to signal their transponders. It’ll let them know I’m pinging them.

The signal went out and Ol’oih held his breath as the screen dimmed and crackled. His thrumming body was making every part of him shake in anticipation. It was unnerving. Every element of training had prepared him for the worst case scenario, but living it was an entirely different matter.

Please… please Ove… let them be alive and unhar-…

Through the distortion on the yellowed, flickering screen, thirteen dots appeared. Ol’oih couldn’t believe his eyes. Not only were the dots clearly visible, but they were also clustered together and, if his readings were correct, not too far away.

The real question was whether or not they were in this infamous “Area 51.”

“Clifford. Do you have the map? And could you or Jaxson mark Area 51 on it?” Ol’oih pathed, looking eagerly up at the two boys.

“Got it,” said Jaxson, as if he already knew what the miniscule alien was asking for by a simple look. In his hands, he held the tablet down so that Ol’oih could better see the screen. His eyes flicked from the instruments in his pod and then back to the screen in Jaxson’s hands.

Both human boys held their breath as they waited for some kind of indication. Neither wanted to be the first to break the silence. The air around them was saturated in anxiety so tangible it could be cut with a knife.

Then, they saw it happen.

Ol’oih’s shoulders slumped and his head hung low.

No… are we… too late? Cliff wondered.

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

Continue

Beginning

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

@gianttol #gtjuly #gtjuly2024

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aboutcustardcreams · 7 months ago

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i’m actually dying to see more diane stories so could you do something fluffy? like comforting. I would love that!!

I sincerely hope you like it 💕

Safe heaven

You've been avoiding her calls for a while now, not intentionally of course, you're just swimming with thoughts. Frantically pacing back and forth, Diane dials your number for the umpteenth time. Once again, it goes unanswered, her screen turning black. "Come on, don't do this," she runs a shaky hand through her hair, trying to put an order to her thoughts.

Then your favorite place, the ocean, comes to her mind. Whenever you're upset or feel like taking a break, you drive to the beach. That's where you are.

"Please, be there. Please," as Diane grabs her keys to rush out the door, her mind races with worst case scenarios. In a metter or seconds she is in her car.

You've recently obtained a master degree in English language and linguistics, meaning that you're next in line to be teaching in schools, high schools to be precise. That alone should be great news, however, something definitely bothers you. You only recently turned 26; Diane doesn't know that, but a part of you believes that it won't be easy for you to fit in the role, considering your students won't be much younger than you.

Listening to the waves crashing against the shore has always had the power to quiet down the turmoil inside your heart. Unfortunately for you, today the sea was as calm as a mirror— meaning that your thoughts were louder than ever. You almost regret leaving the house. In the meantime Diane's heart races at incredible speed once she stops the car and gets off. She scans the horizon, searching for any signs of you in the distance. She takes a sigh of relief when she recognizes you, a tiny dot sitting down by the shore, legs to the chest, chin on your knees.

She sighs softly, taking quick steps towards you. It takes her a bunch of seconds before she drops to her knees, right beside you. "Darling, hey," her voice trembles a bit when she calls you. You feel her hand stroking the back of your head and you turn around. You say her name in such a tired tone that the woman can't help but frown. "I've been trying to reach you. You didn't pick up any of my calls," she doesn't mean it as reproach and she makes sure you know that. However, the reality of the situation hits you hard. She exhales, attempting to smile, "I was so worried," she breathes out. You close your eyes and take in a deep breath. "Sorry, I-I'm sorry, gosh, I don't know what came over me—", you try to find a good reason to all this but truth be told there isn't one, "The sea isn't even cooperating with me today," a bitter smile tugs at your lips as you point at the still flat surface in front of you.

Diane's heart shatters at the sadness in your voice, the slight furrow of your brows. "Baby," she brushes a strand of hair from your face, to better expose your beautiful gaze. She doesn't fail to notice how you struggle to ward off the tears threatening to spill from your eyes. "I'm fine," you croak out unconvincingly. Diane lightly rolls her eyes, "Are you?", she asks softly, playing with the tips of your hair, curling it around her finger. A part of you feels pathetic for how you're acting. You're an adult, meaning that you're supposed to act like one. Your voice breaks slightly, "I'm pathetic, I'm sorry— I don't know why I'm like this."

Tears prickle at the corner of Diane's eyes, her demeanor soon shifts. If there is something she can't stand is when you treat yourself poorly like that. "Do not say that, you hear me? You're not pathetic. Something is clearly bothering you," she says, her voice devoid of any kind of hesitation. "But I shouldn't—", you sniffle and she interjects, hushing you softly. "Whatever you're feeling is valuable. It doesn't make you pathetic, but human," she insists, leaning closer to you, grazing her thumb over your cheekbone. With downcast eyes, you mutter, "But I worried you. I am a 26 years old woman and I still worry you with my childish behaviors," you pout.

Rolling her eyes, Diane affectionately strokes the tip of your nose, "Your age doesn't mean anything, sweetheart. You're my girlfriend. I will never stop feeling this way towards you. And even when there is no reason to worry, I'll still act crazy because you're not just anybody, you're my family," she confesses, making you smile in return. A blush comes to your cheeks too that Diane doesn't fail to notice. "That's incredibly corny—", you comment amusedly. She grins, "but you love it," she pokes your arm. "Amen to that", you both giggle at that. Diane is the sweetest, most caring person you've ever met in your life. A part of you often wonders who would you be without her. "Will you tell me what's going on?", she whispers before placing a gentle kiss against your forehead.

You sigh. You know you owe her an explanation. "It's just—" The waves you were supposed to see in the ocean, you see them in her eyes. "It's about what's to come."

Tears shimmer in your eyes, the sense of guilt coming back to you. Diane's heart tightens, and without a word, she moves closer and pulls you in her lap. "Can you be more specific?", she coos, her cheek rubs gently against yours. You find yourself smiling at the gesture. A smile she quickly reciprocates. You admire Diane like no other. Not only is she a wonderful girlfriend, protective and affectionate, but she is also an amazing teacher.

"I start teaching next semester," you blurt out. These words put together feel so unrealistic, you akwardly rub the back of your head. Diane's eyes open wide in slow motion, then she gasps and squeals like a child for how excited she is. She slightly pulls away to look at you in the eyes, probably to make sure you're serious. "No way— How? When did you find out?", your mouth tugs into a smile that you try to curb, touched by Diane's enthusiasm. You nibble on your bottom lip, averting her gaze for a brief moment, feeling suddenly overwhelmed all over again as you remember what happened earlier that day. "I received an email by the school principal— it looks like there is a vacancy in English linguistics and he offered me the job."

Diane's hand fly to her mouth to stifle a gasp. Her beautiful chocolate eyes well up with fresh tears. Of joy this time, and pride for what you've finally achieved.

Next thing you feel are Diane's arms securely wrapped around you, "You have no idea how proud of you I am, sweetheart. You deserve this more than you know," she pulls back only a bit to look at you in the eyes. She is weeping now. Her hands roam up and down your face and shoulders. Her happiness is contagious and you can't help but smile along with her. Her eyes shine so bright you feel silly for the worries that have been haunting your mind and weighting on your heart.

You were supposed to celebrate, throw a party, even jumping in the ocean with your clothes on would have been better than getting depressed over silly concerns. Truth is, you want to be great at this, because this is what you love doing and what you've been preparing for your whole life. And at the same time, you want to live up to everyone's expectations. Especially Diane's. It's not that you want to compare yourself to her, but a part of you feels like you're not as good as her. Diane has much more experience than you, and students love her and respect her both as teacher and person.

That's probably what worries you the most, the possibility of not being taken seriously, not only because this is new territory to you, but also due to your young age. "Thanks," you breathe out, forcing a better smile out of you. "It really means the world to me." Then, you sweep your tongue over your lips, and Diane takes that as signal of distress from you. She smiles softly at you and opens her arms for you, "Come back here, silly." You don't let her tell you twice. Soon goosebumps rise over your skin, as she start cuddling you. "You don't seem thrilled to work with me," she whispers teasingly in your ear. You let out a quiet giggle, and shake your head, "I am. I feel honored, actually."

She hums in response, holding you a little tighter, "Then, what is it?", you lift your chin to meet her eyes and wait a couple of seconds before mastering the courage to tell her what is bothering you, "Your students respect you and see you as a role model," you state. Diane frowns, without understand where this is going yet. "I can't help but wonder if they will be showing me the same respect." Her mouth falls partially agape, her heart shutters at your self doubt. You've proved her your worth countless of times. You helped her grade her students' essays and gave her precious advices regarding lesson planning. "Sweetheart, they are gonna love you," she says, without a hint of hesitation in her tone. You try to protest, but she doesn't let you.

"Listen to me. Your young age isn't an obstacle but a bridge between you and them. Your passion for what you do, the dedication you put to get where you are now will be a source of inspiration for them," with a tender smile, Diane moves your hair on your left shoulder. You hum deep in thought. Her fingertips send you a shiver through your spine, when she strokes a sweet spot behind your neck, now clear from hair. "I'll have to keep an eye on you though," you frown at that. She shrugs and grins nonchalantly when you ask her what she means, "I can easily imagine your soon to be students fall deeply for their new teacher."

A playful hum comes to your lips: the concern you've been feeling suddenly subsides. "That is never gonna happen, Diane," you can't help but chuckle at her assumptions. You honestly love this side of her, when she is jealous, protective and a little bit possessive over you. It makes you feel like you're part of something, it gives you a sense of belonging.

"Oh, trust me, I'll make sure of that," her eyes sparkle mischievously, as she leans in to place a loud kiss on your cheek. You chuckle again, "Jealous, are we?" Diane's lips curve into a playful grin, "I simply defend what's mine, sweetheart," she says in a breathed whisper. You lift your hand in mid air, your fingers meeting her face. "I'm only yours, Diane," you speak with your heart, voice laced with emotion, "God, you're all I ever wanted."

It's obvious how she makes you feel. It shows in your eyes, in the way your cheeks quickly go on flame, and in that funny feeling between your legs that tickles you every time you're close to her. Diane owns you in the broadest sense of the term. "You're my treasure," Leaning in, she brushes her lips against yours, kissing you at a gentle rhythm. When she parts her mouth, you stroke the inside with a gentle flick of your tongue. Pouring in all your love, you kiss her with such an intensity, as if it was the last time. She breathes your name in your mouth and you moan hers, clinging to her clothes as she pulls onto your hair.

When you're in need to catch your breath, you part slightly but still being in each other's bubble. "Are you really mine?", she asks, her voice barely audible. You take her hand and place it upon your heart, "Do you feel that?" you ask, with a tender smile. She nods, already feeling emotional, "Every beat of my heart is for you, and that's never gonna change." A single tear slides down Diane's cheek as you speak, as she mutters your name in disbelief. You point a finger at her jokingly. "That's all your fault. You made me a hopeless sentimental," Diane laughs heartily, when you feign a grimace, "Oh you—I absolutely love you" her nose brushes against yours as she leans close to you once again.

You're both her obsession and her cure. She can't do without you. Neither can you. Your fingers come up to her face, in the attempt to wipe those tears glistening at the corners of her eyes.

"Maybe we should soon put a ring on it," when that sentence comes to Diane's ears, she looks at you like she's seen a ghost, "W-what?", it's no secret to you that you want to get married someday, and you know that deep down Diane shares the same desire. You often fantasized about walking down the aisle together. Truth be told, you two actually started talking about it after only three weeks of dating. The topic often came out masked by a playful tone, however, both of you were always incredibly serious about it. "I'm not just saying it, Diane. And of course this is not an official proposal, because, I wouldn't do this to you like this, you deserve a proper one. I'm just—," you shrug nervously, "you know..."

Diane can't help but chuckle at that, "You're asking me, if you can actually ask me?"

A humorous giggle escapes your lips at her question. Nodding your head you say, "Pretty much, yes. Is it weird?", as response, Diane reaches out to gently caress your face, getting lost in your gaze as deep as the ocean, "That's the sweetest thing you've ever told me, and my answer is yes— it's always going to be yes," she grins and pecks the tip of your nose. With a small, nervous laugh, you stutter, "Really?" And she nods so eagerly and convincingly, you find yourself on cloud nine. "Oh, gods!" You sigh dreamily, and she arches an eyebrow at that, "I'll have the most beautiful wife in the world."

Diane lightly shakes her head, playfully nudging you, "Not at all. That would be me," she argues and when you're ready to object, she pecks your lips to keep you quiet. "And please, don't you ever doubt yourself anymore like that," she says serious again. "Cross my heart," you lift your pinkie and she lifts hers sealing the promise with a joyful smile. Then she looks at the sea, still holding you in her arms. After a moment of silence, she confesses, "Are you aware that now I'll think about it every single day until you ask me," you grin and absentmindedly stroke her arms, wrapped around you, "To await a pleasure is itself a pleasure," you mutter so seriously, you can't help and neither can Diane but to burst out laughing.

#american horror story #sarah paulson #sarah paulson x reader #Diane Sherman #Diane Sherman x reader #sarah paulson x you #run #writing prompts #fluff and angst

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insanelyadd · 2 months ago

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what dose Entropy mean? I hear them say it as a swear word but what dose it mean I know that asteroid is probably asshole and stars is shit but I can’t figure out the rest so what do they mean?

YAY I GET TO TALK ABOUT LINGUISTICS this shit is long, I've been working on it for a few hours, it's going under a read more.

Oh they're less one to one than that. They also apply to the meanings they've assigned to those words. So asteroids are bad because they can wipe out all life on a planet. It is what the Collectors would call "a dick move".

Stars isn't shit, because that's not what it means, usually I have them say "oh my stars" instead of "oh my god" (they do not believe in any gods) or "oh my titan" (self explanatory) and this was partially because "oh my stars" is a real thing I've heard people actually say, and also because if the Collectors are to be reverent to anything, it would most likely be stars, because stars give life to mortals and provide a few different kinds of radiation that they feed on. Saying stars in an annoyed tone is probably similar to someone saying "jesus" or "god" like they are extremely frustrated, where it's an exclamation of annoyance/aggravation and not really a swear.

Entropy is probably the worst swear they have in their own languages because their swears work like Dutch swears (in Dutch you swear with diseases) where the worse the original thing is the worse it is as a swear word. Entropy means a decline in energy as it transfers between things, like from the power plant to your outlet to your blender there is energy loss. Though when I was deciding it to be a swear word for them, I was using the association between entropy and the hypothesis of the heat death of the universe. While writing this out I was looking over some discussions and data to better explain what I was going for, and now it's being proposed that this might not even be a thing that will actually happen (very nice to think about that tbh). But it's quite likely that at some point for them they thought it could happen and the horror at such a thing, even if it's so far away, would be enough to make it the Worst Swear Word they have (but not the worst insult).

All their swears words, insults, descriptors, names, units of measurement, are words for space stuff (NOT LIKE PLANET OR CONSTELLATION NAMES WHICH STEM FROM HUMAN FOLKLORE, I MEAN SCIENTIFIC DESCRIPTION OF WHAT IT IS), because for the longest time all they had to compare anything in their existence to was stuff in space. Their vocabulary is probably also much more dense wrt that specific thing, so instead of simply "a star" they'd have specific terminology for every specific type of star and all their life stages.

Other insults/swear words and their rough meanings:

Rogue/rogue planet (reckless, destructive, careless) Rogue is also the name of the marriage/children of Planet + Comet Collectors.

Pulsar (erratic, unpredictable, could also mean someone who is addicted to them, because Pulsars shoot out concentrated beams of energy so they work like stimulants on them like caffeine or similar)

Black hole (they suck, haha, but also: are depressing, a symbol of imprisonment [could imply abusive], some are also addicted to these because getting too close acts as a depressant like alcohol because it sucks energy out of their bodies and makes them sluggish and tired and have similar effects to alcohol)

Brown Dwarf, this is a celestial body that is neither a star nor a planet (gas giant specifically) but is somewhere between the two, and is sometimes described as a failed star. This is a situational insult because like all the other words here it has alternate applications. (This is the worst insult they have, it basically means a total failure, failed to be a planet, failed to be a star, you're worthless) Unrelated to the connotation of insult, a marriage between a Sun+Star (Constellation) Collector and a Planet Collector used to be called this. A Sun + Planet and Star + Planet have different names.

Marriage/Child names below, not including marriages of existing hybrids:

The Eclipse ones are only for unbalanced relationships or children that resemble an eclipse rather than the other type they could be.

Any word can be an insult or a swear word and any listed words here could also Not be.

#toh #the owl house #toh oc #my collector lore

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watery-melon-baller · 2 years ago

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Heyyyy bestie

For the character ask game, Luz?

NJMETKWNF THAT WAS QUICK

What I like about them

shes so very optimistic and kind and genuinely wants to help people! she's very enthusiastic about everything it's sweet

What I dislike about them

hmmm. this was more of a S1 thing but I guess when she would just. S1 Luz was more assertive which is something I miss a little bit but also sometimes it did not work out well for her. im gonna elaborate on this in a second

Favourite moment

i loved Camila comforting Luz and then her realizing what she Actually wants with stringbean it's so sweet

Least favourite moment

S1 Ep17 where she pushes willow into having a grudgby match with boscha despite willow being extremely uncomfy with it. like yeah sure it worked out but still. this is also ties into her being more assertive? I don't think assertive is the right word here but kind of just disregarding others feeling sometimes for her. She grows out of this though which was kind of the whole point of the episode so

A situation with this character that I want to see explored more

i wish that there was like. more conflict with the human realm and her mom? like in her eyes her mom sent her away to camp and then when she came back she was "fixed" and her mom didn't even notice anything was wrong until Luz told her she she had been replaced like. I feel like that would fuck a kid up a little bit. add that to her feeling like she shouldn't be upset bc A. She offered her home to Vee and B. vee had it worse then her so she has no right to feel upset!! but like. I have a lot of thoughts on this concept

An interesting AU for this character

umm hmmm. i have lots of toh aus. ive even written a fic about one! uhhh in general i have my reverse au but a good one for her specifically...

not really an au but i think it would have been cool if there was an episode in S1 where Luz had to go back to the human realm for one reason. Maybe she wanted her laptop/phone charger or maybe she was showing Gus around or something. I know she wanted to stay in the BI but I feel like the portal could have been used more

A crossover

im a sucker for toh/gravity falls crossovers I think it's fun. ok this is technically an au but imagine if after kings tide the portal landed them in the mystery shacks basement (it's not like belos tested it beforehand) so on top of THAT they have to figure out how to all get to Connecticut which is so horrible

OTP (or OT3+ etc…. just… favourite ship)

lumity for the win

Other ships?

not really ships but I do like it when people acknowledge her being bi and like. she's like "wow that guy is hot" or "wow that girl is cute" and like. she does love amity but i think she has eyes and thinks willow is cute

BROTP

her and hunter!! (may have written a whole fic about their shennanigans) but also her and king are brothers too. she gets so many siblings what a middle child

NOTP

hm. mainly just anything with weird age gaps or incest but that's kind of standard. i don't do ships much so

An assortment of headcanons!

um I don't have a Bunch but here's a few:

she definitely has an ongoing 40k azura fic on ao3 that randomly stopped updating bc the portal broke. she wrote so many chapters on her phone in the BI.

ive stolen this one from crushpunchh but she's a HUGE linguistics nerd. girl literally taught herself multiple fantasy languages

wears nail polish because she bites her nails so she paints them with bad tasting polish so she stops doing that

if she has an idea and no paper she will just write stuff on her arms and legs so she doesn't forget (i was going to add something else to this but. i forgot.)

has absolutely atrocious handwriting

loves to sculpt and work with clay. doesn't mind getting messy and loves making stuff with her own two hands

i thibk she knew about the shacks existence before she found the portal. like she for sure explored the woods around her house and it's very close to where she lives??? she for sure knew. probably played pretend in there all the time as a kid. she just never saw eda around

#ask game #toh #lilac post

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ebelal56-blog · 3 months ago

Video

youtube

The SECRET Latin-Sanskrit Connection Exposed

Join Jeffrey Armstrong in unveiling the secret connection between Latin and Sanskrit languages. Discover the fascinating similarities and connections between these ancient languages in this eye-opening video. Isn't it fascinating how languages, those intricate webs of sound and meaning, can trace their roots back to a single source, a whisper from the past that has echoed through millennia? Latin and Sanskrit, two ancient tongues, are like distant relatives, sharing a familial bond that stretches back to Proto-Indo-European, a language that existed long before any of us could even dream of writing it down. Imagine that! A time when our ancestors spoke in a way that has shaped the very foundations of communication as we know it today. When we delve into the world of comparative linguistics, it's like being an archaeologist, sifting through layers of history to unearth connections that reveal the shared heritage of humanity. The similarities between Latin and Sanskrit are not mere coincidences; they are the remnants of a common ancestry. Take the word "mater" in Latin, for instance. It rolls off the tongue with a certain elegance, doesn't it? And then, there's "mātṛ" in Sanskrit, a word that resonates with warmth and reverence. Both words mean "mother," and they spring from the same Proto-Indo-European root, "*méh₂tēr." It's a beautiful reminder that, despite the vast distances and differences that separate us, there are threads of connection that bind us together. The complexity of these languages is astounding. Both Latin and Sanskrit boast intricate inflectional systems, a linguistic dance where verbs, nouns, and adjectives morph and shift to convey meaning. It's a system that requires a deep understanding of context, a mastery of nuance. In a way, it mirrors the complexities of human relationships-how we adapt our words and expressions based on who we are speaking to, the situation at hand, the emotions we wish to convey. The way we inflect our language can reveal so much about our intentions, our identities, and our histories. And then there are the cognates, those delightful linguistic treasures that pop up like familiar faces in a crowd. They remind us that language is not just a tool for communication; it's a living, breathing entity that evolves and transforms over time. When we look at cognates between Latin and Sanskrit, we see echoes of a shared past. Words like "pater" in Latin and "pitar" in Sanskrit, both meaning "father," resonate with a sense of continuity. It's as if the voices of our ancestors are whispering through the ages, reminding us of our shared humanity. Understanding these connections is not just an academic exercise; it's a journey into the heart of what it means to be human. Language is more than just a means of communication; it's a vessel for culture, history, and identity. When we study the relationships between languages, we gain insights into the migrations of peoples, the exchanges of ideas, and the evolution of societies. It's a tapestry woven from the threads of countless lives, each one contributing to the rich fabric of our shared heritage. As we explore the depths of Latin and Sanskrit, we are not just uncovering the past; we are also illuminating the present. In a world that often feels divided, these linguistic connections serve as a reminder that we are all part of a larger narrative, one that transcends borders and cultures. The words we speak today carry the weight of history, the echoes of those who came before us, and the promise of those who will come after. So, the next time you utter a word that has its roots in Latin or Sanskrit, pause for a moment. Consider the journey that word has taken, the lives it has touched, and the stories it has told. In that moment, you are not just speaking; you are participating in a timeless conversation that connects you to the very essence of humanity. Isn't that a profound thought?

#youtube

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yearabroadfordummies · 1 year ago

Text

Welcome to our corner of the Internet!

Are you about to go on a year abroad? Are you studying/living in a foreign county? Or are just interested in intercultural interactions? Then this blog is for you!

What is this blog about?

Our blog was made primarily to help British university students prepare for the challenges, mysteries and surprises that their studies abroad will bring, but far be it from us to gatekeep all the wonderfully useful knowledge that the field of Intercultural Pragmatics offers from anyone else who is interested. Whether you are here to learn or just for fun, let us express our humble welcome to our small corner of the Internet. (And who knows, you might even find some fun situations to put your blorbos in.)

What even is Intercultural Pragmatics?

While the 'intercultural' bit of this expression might be obvious to everyone, 'pragmatics' could be a bit trickier to de-code -- but that is why we are here. Essentially, pragmatics refers to how langauage (any and all language) is used in context.

@American Pragmatics Association - taken from the AMPRA Facebook page (link embedded in picture)

This comic shows how the same utterance can be used to achieve different goals based on different contexts. Context here can mean many things, like participants, location, shared history, etc. In a sense Pragmatics looks at a meaning deeper than what individual words or sentences express.

Be not afraid!

Now, although this might look a bit complex at first, we all use pragmatics instincually in many cases. The purpose of our blog is to show you cases where expressing meaning might not come so instinctually, that is, to prepare you for all the intercultural encounters you will experience on your year abroad. Like how if you invite a new friend over for 'tea' there, they most likely will never even think of food.

To summarise, Intercultural Pragmatics looks at how people from different cultures use language to interact with each other. To present you with at least one, nice, non-jargon-filled quote:

Intercultural pragmatics (...) is concerned with the way in which the langauge system is put to use in social encounters between human beings who have different first langauges but communicate in a common langauge, and usually, represent different cultures. (Kecskés, 2022)

And if that quote didn't scare you off, in your spare time, please put your university access to good use and read the introduction to Intercultutral Pragmatics that this was taken from. Believe us, your future self will thank you.

Why is this useful to you?

As it might've become obvious by now, people from different cultures speak differently in systematic ways. While the UK is in many ways a multicultural place, for many students, going on a year abroad will be the first time that you will interact with others, who have no or little experience with British culture and it's norms.

We in no way mean to imply that you can prepare for all intercultual situations you will find yourself in just by learning about intercultural pragmatics. However, just being aware of what differences you might expect, how your words might be understood differently than how you mean them or learning what situations to look out for could go a long way in making sure your year abroad is as fun as it can be.

By introducing some interesting (and hopefully fun) examples from topics like interactional rituals and cultural scripts, and demonstarting some strategies for building common ground in intercultural interactions, we hope to make your future experiences as smooth-sailing as possible and to share knowledge about a field we are all passionate about.

Tagging system:

To accommodate a wider audience, you might notice that we have some posts that are more theory-heavy and some that are more fun with many examples. To easily find the content most useful to use, we came up with a simple tagging system:

#educate me: for posts that expend a little more on linguistic theories that we think you might find useful and interesting (still in simple terms and with some wonderful memes if we do say so ourselves)

#advice: for friendly advice presented in a more informal way (like how your besties spill the tea)

#practical examples: for posts that bring up some fun examples, focusing on some specific cultural situations (whilst poking fun at British interactional norms, for your enjoyment)

Thank you for your interest and we hope you enjoy traversing our blog! :)

- Duncan's Disciples

#intercultural pragmatics #linguistics #pragmatics #year abroad #culture

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avarindigenous · 2 years ago

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many meetings (or, the problem of interpretation)

the biggest issue when reading the Silmarillion and the Histories is, to borrow Reddit parlance, that many conflicts and many situations are firmly in the Everyone Sucks Here category. what side you find more sympathetic, and what you think the canon is saying when it relays particular facts, is going to depend upon you, the reader, and what you think those facts mean. this is a problem when it comes to productive conversation about the flaws in the text, or even about character traits that can be read in multiple lights.

consider Thingol.

(this is a long post and I apologize to anyone on mobile who doesn’t see the cut.)

I read him as a ruthlessly imperialist, conniving, politically ambitious king who uses his keen awareness of the threats to his people to advance his own goals and prioritize his own safety. by my read, he perpetuates Sindarin-centric linguistic imperialism, holds himself and his followers above the Avari by refusing to count himself among the Moriquendi, and acts with canonical racism toward Beren and Túrin and his Mannish relatives (offering shelter and clothing and food to someone does not mean you’re incapable of being racist toward them. Túrin grows up in a court where he’s constantly exposed to anti-Mannish microaggressions, and Thingol does not do anything to stop those things from happening, and Túrin believes that nothing he could say to Thingol will convince the king to take his side. Thingol also tells Túrin that the highest he could hope to rise is as a servant to an elf-king. that is, to me, blatantly racist and demeaning. you can tolerate sharing a space with someone you’re prejudiced against and still be prejudicial).

he also might have manipulated Beren into causing intra-Noldorin political strife in Nargothrond and might have purposefully held off on sending help to the Laiquendi until it was too late and their king Denethor was slain. he only opened his borders to refugees from places where his blood relatives lived, and he mistreated the dwarves who ultimately and justifiably killed him. I also think that the fact that Oropher left his court and immediately set himself up as a colonizer-king of the Greenwood, and the fact that Amdir drove the Silvan elves out of Lothlórien and established a Sindarin settlement there, means that there is a strong supremacist strain of thought in Doriathrin culture. Thingol, as king, does not do anything to contradict that indication.

(note: upon rereading Unfinished Tales I have to acknowledge that I fell victim to the very biases I’m discussing - there is no direct indication that Amdir or Amroth had a purposeful, significant role in the decrease in Silvan population in Lórinand/Lothlórien. that’s certainly my read of the situation based upon the evidence in-text, but there are any number of ways to interpret the facts that are laid out in the Appendices of Unfinished Tales.)

everything I have said can be backed up by textual citation. there is substantial proof for my argument. I could take it further, even, and say that by my read there’s no evidence that Thingol’s guilt and grief over Lúthien caused substantial personal change in him beyond tolerating humans at the bare minimum level.

that, however, is only my read of the text. it’s a very important read to me. I find it difficult to be friendly with Thingol’s fans, because I think my read has canonical backing and makes the story make the most sense and is based on what’s really there on the page and not my desire to make someone else the good guy. but, I cannot argue that it is the only way anyone could ever interpret Thingol.

someone else might say that Thingol tried very hard to get to Denethor in time and failed, or that the reason he objected to being called Moriquendi was because he and his people rejected the idea of the Moriquendi-Calaquendi labeling system, or that he didn’t know about the abuse Túrin suffered because Saeros and the others were bullies and bullies are good at lying. they might say that his ban on Quenya was because he was genuinely afraid that the Noldor would insist on cultural homogeneity and would disregard the needs of his people. they might say he made mistakes but he wasn’t purposefully prejudiced.

that read is also canonically valid with plenty of the same points I would cite in my argument now being used to argue a different interpretation.

now, I would respond that this read is based less on the reality of what’s written in the text and more on the desire of those espousing it to dislike the Noldor, but that is again my perspective, and they would doubtless respond that I want to like the Noldor and want to paint them in a better light than they are actually portrayed. this is incorrect when it comes to me, as I eschew all fanon in my analysis, but others would certainly be in that position.

why am I talking about this? because from one side, Thingol is an ambitious, power-hungry king who holds himself above everyone else and who doesn’t hesitate to let his political opponents die for his own aims, and from the other, Thingol is a careful, defensive, flawed but well-meaning king who is justifiably concerned about the presence of Kinslayers near his people.

it’s not about what the facts of the story say so much as it is about how we, the readers, approach those facts.

this becomes relevant when we’re talking about racism and colonialism in Tolkien, particularly in situations where the narration is biased or the characters express bigoted views, or when it comes to things that happen in the text because the author was himself racist. different people are going to come to different conclusions about if something is racist, why it’s racist, what’s racist about it, and what the fandom could or should do to counter it. if one group thinks Thingol should be portrayed as a colonizer and the other thinks that the Noldor are the colonizers, both sides can be equally canonically grounded. neither one is necessarily correct (although I will, of course, have my biases and my counterpoints). there are a relatively small amount of cases where something in the text must morally elicit one specific reaction.

the situation becomes even more complicated when you consider that many things in Tolkien’s universe are perfectly reasonable in-universe, and make sense, and are not racist or problematic, but they exist in the text because of the author’s prejudices. an example would be Galadriel and Celeborn being asked to lead Lothlórien because of Celeborn’s kinship to Amroth, the last king. (this is the version of events recorded in the Appendices of The Lord of the Rings and is therefore the most canonical account.)

Lothlórien was colonized by the Sindar (nonviolently, true, but that doesn’t erase the colonialism) and Sindarin culture and ethnically Sindarin elves come to be the sole occupiers of that space. the only lasting sign of the Silvan elves is the language spoken by those who live in the Golden Wood.

there are many ways to read this turn of events. a brief list would include:

Galadriel is an imperialist and a colonialist who wants to rule her own kingdom, and she takes this leadership position and is presented as a good and heroic figure by the text, which means the text condones colonialism and imperialism.

Galadriel is an imperialist and a colonialist who wants to rule her own kingdom, but she is and has always been a morally ambiguous figure who grows over the course of her character arc into someone who rejects power and rejects this kind of venerated leadership. this means the text is critical of her actions and we are not meant to interpret her as a good person.

Galadriel is an imperialist and a colonialist and this means the Noldor are colonizers.

Galadriel is an imperialist and a colonialist but is only part-Noldor, and assimilates into Sindarin society to the degree of marrying a Sindarin prince and taking a Sindarin name to be her name. this means that the Sindar are colonizers.

every marginalized person who comes to the text is going to form a different opinion. we all like to talk about these opinions and debate them and argue about who is or isn’t more correct, and many fans will assume their reading of the text reflects the objectively true interpretation. that is untrue. no reading is invalid, but no reading is the only lens through which to read a troubling text.

the only certainty in Tolkien, really, when it comes to racism and colonialism, is that he was a racist who wrote about everyone in problematic ways and he has a history of ambiguity when it comes to colonialism. nothing else can be counted on, and nothing else should be taken as fundamental truth. this is the Silmarillion. no one here is a truly good person, except for Beren and Lúthien and Rían, and trying to argue that the truth is that one side or the other is more virtuous will accomplish nothing in the end.

#silmarillion meta #silmarillion #thingol #first age

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cvrc11 · 1 year ago

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Also, this kind of "completionist" worldbuilding where you try to make a fully realized world that is actually as detailed as reality is, uh, physically impossible. No human can create a whole world with the same level of complexity as billions of years of history have made in our world. Every single author famous for their meticulous worldbuilding is actually only meticulous in the parts that mattered to them.

Tolkien is known for having the most thorough worldbuilding ever, but that's not true - he had very thorough worldbuilding when it came to languages and history, because these are the things he thought were important for his work, and which he found interesting. He didn't give a shit about biology, and it isn't super relevant to the plot, so we know very little about the bodies of elves or dwarves or orcs or hobbits and how they differ from humans - even the most iconic element of elvish physical form, the pointed ears, were made up by OTHER PEOPLE after the fact, because he simply did not bother to elaborate on their biology whatsoever, except for the ways that most impacted the plot, themes, and characters (i.e. their longevity, the connections between their physical well-being and the world around them, etc.).

George R.R. Martin is known for obsessing over tiny details of physical culture (clothes, architecture, weapons and armor, hairstyles, food) and history and economics within Westeros, but he doesn't much care for philosophy and theology. We have shockingly little detail about what the dominant religions of Westeros actually, you know, BELIEVE. Are the Seven a Christian Trinity situation where they're all aspects of one God, or are they a true polytheistic religion? How does the faith of the Red God feel about Divine Command theory? What is the understanding of the afterlife beyond the simple fact that there are "Seven hells"? Are they distinct? Do you go to different hells for different sins? How does sin work anyway? Does the faith of the Seven believe in redemption through faith, deeds, or grace? Or something else entirely? We never learn this stuff because GRRM didn't think it important enough to develop, or he himself just didn't find it interesting enough to think about.

I list these examples because they illustrate not just that you have to prioritize what matters to your story, but also that different readers will disagree with your choices no matter what - in particular, I disagree with both JRRT's and GRRM's decisions about what aspects of worldbuilding were most important for their stories! I think LOTR could do with less linguistics and more biology, and ASOIAF could do with less history and fashion and more theology! I think these things are extremely important for a lot of what actually happens in these stories! But that doesn't mean JRRT or GRRM made the "wrong" choices - it means that no one, ever, can make the "right" choices, because worldbuilding, much like everything else about writing, is a process of choosing between infinite options, none of which are inherently "right" or "wrong", and each of which will always be "right" for some stories and some readers, and "wrong" for others, so at the end of the day what matters is what YOU, the WRITER, think is important. JRRT fucking loved words and languages, and GRRM fucking loves describing fancy dressed and long lineages of kings, and they made the only right decision - to do the things they loved, and write around that. I want more info on dwarf biology - I do NOT think JRRT should have been expected to provide it. He did not care, and that means he should not write about it. Which he didn't. Good on him.

i think one of the reasons i get mildly annoyed about worldbuilding threads that are 200 tweets of why you should care about where blue dye comes from in your world before saying someone is wearing blue is that so few of them go up to the second level of "and that should impact your characters somehow" - i don't care that blue dye comes from pressing berries that only grow in one kingdom a thousand miles away if people are casually wearing blue

#my thoughts #writing #lotr #asoiaf

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reidscanehand · 4 years ago

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The One Where Everyone Finds Out (Finale)

Episode 8 of The One Where Everyone Finds Out

Spencer Reid x BAUfem! Reader

(plus a little Morcia love because, as we all know, she is his God Given Solace).

Category: Very, very fluffy.

TW: mentions of Maeve’s death, cursing

So, we’ve made it to the end. I cannot thank you all enough for making my first experience writing a series so incredibly fulfilling and positive. Thank you so much for reading! It’s been so delightful to celebrate reaching 1K followers by getting to interact with this delightful group of humans!

Much love to you all xx

Spencer Reid doesn’t talk much. Or, at least, he doesn’t talk much now. When you’d met him, when he’d guest lectured for Dr. Blake all those months ago, he’d been effusive to say the least. But he’d been through a lot since then, quite a lot, actually. When you’d joined the team, Alex had brought you up to date on the Spencer situation, explaining what had happened with Maeve. You felt bad for him, for losing a loved one in such a traumatic way, obviously, but also because it could not be particularly comforting to have everyone know your personal business. So, from the beginning of your work with the BAU, you’d worked hard to maintain a relationship with Spencer that was more cordial civility than guilt-ridden co-worker watching for, what it seemed the team thought to be, an inevitable breakdown. You didn’t push him, but you didn’t push anyone. The only one you really knew was Dr. Blake, and even with her you’d never known her on such a personal level as working with the BAU required. You’re honored to have been asked and quickly trained to join such an incredible team, but you’ve become rather hyper-self-conscious since starting work. Going from formal teaching assistant with a Masters in Psychological Linguistics to FBI profiler is a big leap for anyone, you suppose, but you’re worried that the good will of the team could run out at any moment. You keep your thoughts to yourself for the most part, helping with graphological profiles or translations as much as you can.

So, no, Spencer Reid doesn’t talk much, but you don’t either. Which is perhaps why him speaking to you directly makes you nearly jump out of your skin.

“You know something, don’t you?” he whispers from behind you. You watch him bite back laughter as you jump away from him with a shudder.

“Uh,” you pant out, “um, I don’t...uh-I’m-I don’t know what you-”

“Don’t lie to me,” he replies, but it isn’t callous or harsh, just matter-of-fact. “I know you’ve seen something. Plus, you’re the only one that would be able to pull some information out of something like this.” You stare at him wide-eyed.

“Alex would have seen-”

“You forget that I’ve seen Alex look to you for linguistics work,” he interrupts again, only this time his tone is different. If you’re not wrong, it’s almost...teasing. “So, either you’re not saying what you’ve figured out or I’m wrong. And, no offense to you, but experience has taught me that it’s definitely more likely the former.” If you weren’t already blushing, the small smile he shoots you then would’ve definitely caused the tell-tale heat to rise in your cheeks.

“Um,” you manage to get out around your anxiety, “if...um, if th-the profile’s right and the u-unsub is from the continent of A-Africa, then i-it’s likely they’re f-from Papua New Guinea.”

Spencer’s watching you carefully, taking in everything you say and nodding slowly, “What makes you say that?”

“Th-there are over 820 i-indigenous l-languages spoken in Papua New Guinea. That’s why the unsub’s syntax k-keeps changing. They’re translating from one or two other languages into English.” You swallow loudly and he catches it, eyes snapping to meet yours again.

“I knew you knew something,” he reassures you gently. He takes a deep breath and steps slightly closer to you. It suddenly occurs to you how deeply intimate this is for this man. If it were anyone else, they would be holding your hand, grasping onto your shoulders. That’s the kind of weight this moment holds for Spencer and you’re a little overwhelmed by the action. He looks at his feet, shifting his weight on his heels before looking at you again. “I know it can be hard to figure out where you belong on a team like this, but...Y/N, don’t ever doubt that you belong here. Because you definitely do. Not only that, but you have an incredible mind. You should share it more often.”

You somehow manage a nod and a very small ‘thank you’, which Spencer receives with a small nod back. And as the two of you continue working with the new information you’ve given him, you can’t help the smile on your face. Because not only do you feel like there’s a possibility that you might actually belong here, but you’re pretty sure you have a crush on Spencer Reid.

~~~

It’s a little embarrassing, really. Here you are, an adult woman, a profiler with the BAU, and yet, you can’t stop having allergic reactions to your hand sanitizer of all things. You’re not as opposed to germs as Spencer, certainly, but you’re not unaware of them. If anything, you find the smell kind of comforting, the act of putting it on a methodical reassurance to ground you when things got overwhelming. You were going to have to give it up, though, if the rashes didn’t stop.

You huff, slightly annoyed with the circumstances, as you finish washing your hands in the bathroom in order to get rid of the offending product. You return to your desk and toss your hand sanitizer into your rubbish bin.

“Did you have another allergic reaction?” Spencer asks, suddenly. You jump a little, surprised he’s paying attention to you. Most of the time, you’re able to keep your crush under wraps, at least as far as you’re aware. Being a profiler certainly helps. You know exactly what to do to hide something like this, but, when Spencer catches you off guard, like right now, you’re not as in control as you’d like to be.

“Oh,” you sigh, frowning, “yeah.” You hope that sounds as nonchalant as you’d like it to, but it’s a little difficult when his beautiful eyes continue to study you like that. You’d think that hanging out with him outside of work a bit would make you assimilate to it more, but no such luck, apparently.

“What type was it?” he continues, shockingly curious for such a banal topic.

You shrug your shoulders, “It was that homeopathic brand Penelope suggested. I don’t know what it is that’s freaking out my skin, but I guess it was in that one, too.”

“That’s too bad,” he replies. “I admire your dedication to cleanliness, though.”

“Well, I might have to give it up altogether if this keeps happening,” you grumble, trying to hide your blush. You look up and Spencer is still staring at you. He opens his mouth only to close it again. As he starts to look away, you get a sudden surge of confidence choosing to stand, cross to his desk and lean against it, staring down at him. “Got a suggestion brewing in that big, beautiful brain of yours, Dr. Reid?”

Now it’s his turn to blush before meeting your eyes again. “Have you tried a more natural substitute?”

“Such as?” you ask, trying to maintain some semblance of calm, cool, and collected. Hand sanitizer, you admonish yourself, the guy can make you blush over hand sanitizer. Jesus Christ.

“Um, tea tree oil,” he nods, clearly slightly uncomfortable.

You feel a smile tugging at your mouth as you respond, “Really? Why?”

As you’d hoped, Spencer’s face breaks out into a huge grin, thrilled to share what he knows with you. “It contains terpinen-4-ol, a compound that kills most bacteria and viruses.”

You narrow your eyes at him, jokingly, “Is that all?” Because you know it isn’t all. You know he knows everything there is to know about this. As if he hears your thoughts he sits up a little straighter.

If possible, his smile deepens, “Terpinen-4-ol has also been shown to increase the activity of your white blood cells, which helps fight off even more germs and foreign invaders.”

“Wow,” you say. “Tea tree oil, huh? How’d you know about that?”

And just like that, his smile is gone, replaced with an intense blush. He clears his throat, “Well, I, um...I-I know that you’ve been s-struggling to find, uh, a hand sanitizer that w-won’t make your sk-skin break out. So, I...um, I t-took the liberty of l-looking up an-”

“You looked up a hand sanitizer alternative for me?” you interrupt, completely incapable of fighting the smile growing on your face.

“Y-yeah,” he stammers, not looking at you. “I know that’s-that’s super weird...it’s not my business at all, but-but I know you’re g-getting frustrated with - not that you s-seem frustrated! You’re lovely, always! I mean-” Spencer’s eyes are so wide, his breath so panicked, that you’re slightly surprised he doesn’t go into cardiac arrest when you place a hand on his shoulder.

“Spencer,” you whisper gently, “that’s not weird at all.”

“It’s not?” he pants, finally meeting your eyes. You nod.

“You knew I had a problem and worked to find a solution. That’s not weird, that’s just straight up kindness and consideration,” you beam. You feel your breath leave your lungs as Spencer grabs your hand from his shoulder, holding it in his own for a moment. He opens his mouth to say something, only to be interrupted by Hotch.

“Reid, Y/L/N, we have a case,” he says, and you’re thankful that he doesn’t look for too long. Because as you and Spencer stand to leave, you’re certain that, unlike your crush, you’re definitely incapable of hiding this.

~~~

Falling asleep on the jet isn’t exactly easy. It’s obviously better to have a private jet than for the team to have to travel on a normal airline, but it doesn’t really change the fact that it is still a plane. And the seats are a bit bigger than the ones on a standard airline, but they still aren’t exactly comfortable. There was a couch, but you are far to meek to stake a claim to it. However, it is on this trip back from North Dakota that you find yourself actually waking up as you near the Quantico air strip. Or, rather, being awakened. And not only that, but you’re being awakened from an exceptionally comfortable rest.

“Hey, sleepy head,” Spencer breathes, groggy himself.

“Hey,” you reply with equal wooziness. For a moment, it’s almost blissful. The two of you are staring at each other, still in that half-awake afterglow of a nap. It takes you exactly four seconds to realize that you're laying on Spencer’s chest, the armrest that had been between the two of you put out of the way. And even though he’d comforted you and helped you warm up back at the crime scene just that afternoon, you feel like you may have crossed a line.

“Oh my God,” you surge back, stopped by Spencer’s arm that still rests around your shoulders. “I’m so, so sorry! I didn’t mean to lay all over-”

“It’s really okay,” Spencer smiles. “I definitely would have pushed you off in my sleep if I was uncomfortable.”

You can still feel a blush steadily creeping up your neck. “Spencer, I appreciate you being polite, but I know that you’re not exactly...touch-prone.”

“I guess…” Spencer drifts off, closing his mouth before abruptly opening it again, only to close it moments later. He looks back up at you, hesitantly, before continuing. “I guess it really matters who it is.”

“Oh,” you breathe. You don’t even try to fight your smile as you look away. Something’s bothering you, though, and you turn back to him. “You do that a lot.”

“Do what?” Spencer asks, a sudden nervousness edging his tone.

“You open your mouth to say something to me and stop yourself,” you answer, genuinely curious. Looking back over the many conversations the two of you have had since establishing a rapport a few months ago, it is the one physical constant that really stands out beyond the growing tactility over the past few weeks.

“Huh,” Spencer responds, thoughtfully. The two of you are distracted for a moment, moving to buckle in as the jet gets closer to landing.

“You’re the only person I know who lets me slow down for a minute,” Spencer whispers a few minutes later.

“What do you mean?” you ask confusedly.

“My mind moves really fast; too fast sometimes,” he admits slowly. “But there’s something about you that calms me down. Reminds me to breathe.” He’s blushing fiercely, but looking you directly in the eyes.

You’re so entirely unsure of what to say in this moment. You take his hand and squeeze it, smiling, but you can’t say what you want to say.

~~~

You’ve never said it out loud. You’ve known. You’ve known for months. But you’ve never said it out loud, not even to yourself. It felt wonderful, but also like some horrendous secret. It’s such a gentle emotion, yet carries such weight and power that, surely, the moment it’s said, even privately, would shift some great force of the universe.

You’d been worried, terribly worried that the moment he realized your feelings for him, he’d pull back. Because you’re fairly certain he doesn’t feel the same way. All the months of close friendship...it’d be foolish to hope for that to be anything other than...just that. But as the two of you leave the theatre, you can feel the shift, the weight of it pressing down on your soul. He’s not listening to a word you’re saying. You’re rambling and you know you are, a habit you’ve picked up from him, a habit he doesn’t mind in the slightest, usually. But, he’s not listening. And you know why.

He knows. How could he not? You’re pretty sure Hotch knows, too. And probably Alex. Hell, the whole team probably knows at this point. They are profilers, for God’s sake. And, as careful as you’d been, your feelings have only grown stronger, more and more difficult to hide.

You stop talking and Spencer says nothing, his eyes still locked on your profile as you park the car in front of his apartment building.

“Spencer?” you ask. He says nothing, so you clear your throat and speak again, “Spence, we’re here.” You look over as the genius blinks rapidly, looking out the front of your car to his apartment building. “You zoned out on me there, mister.” You’re trying desperately to keep your tone light. Maybe then you won’t cry.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, more thoughts clearly present on the edges of his voice.

“What’s wrong?” you ask carefully. The threat of tears is growing so intensely, you can’t take a full breath for fear they’ll fall. He’s watching you so carefully, even if you could breathe without crying, you doubt you’d be able to anyway.

“Nothing,” he finally gasps. “Nothing at all. I’m just tired. I-”

“Shit,” you interrupt. Because Spencer is definitely lying. Because Spencer definitely knows. Your hands fly to your eyes to attempt to still the tears, but it’s too late. You’re absolutely sobbing. You can vaguely hear Spencer asking why you’re crying, if you’re okay; he tries to pull your hands from your face, but you manage to wrench yourself away. You can’t seem to stop yourself from crying now.

“You c-can g-go,” you manage through the sobs. But Spencer won’t let you go home. You’re suddenly being led up to his apartment and sat down on his sofa. You finally manage to calm yourself down, tears are still falling, but your breathing is more stable. Spencer enters the room having gone through to his kitchen to get you some tissues. You accept them and give him a tight-lipped smile and accept them, wiping away some tears and managing to abate some of them in order to speak.

“I’m sorry,” you rasp. “I’m just…I’m tired. I’ll leave you be.” You try to stand, but Spencer pulls you back to the sofa by your elbow ever so gently.

“Y/N,” he says and you can practically feel his eyes searching your face even though you won’t meet them, “please tell me what’s wrong.” You sigh deeply, trying not to completely lose your composure again.

“I just…oh God, you just…you know, don’t you?” You finally look at him fully, a few errant tears escaping. Spencer stares at you, complete confusion in his eyes.

“I know what?” he finally asks. You can’t do this. You absolutely cannot do this. You can’t lose Spencer. You won’t do it. You stand up abruptly and cross to the door, managing to get just past the threshold, before Spencer catches up to you, spinning you around by your elbow.

“I know what?” he asks again, more desperate this time. You look up at him, meeting his eyes once again. A deep sigh comes from the depths of your soul. You can’t lie to this man. You can’t lie to yourself anymore.

“You know that I’m in love with you,” you whisper.

Of all the times you thought you would say it, you’d never imagined it would be like this. You were right. For such a gentle emotion, the weight of it feels like it’s shifted the entire universe. Spencer doesn’t respond immediately. He doesn’t let go of you, though. He doesn’t drop his eyes from yours. Without warning, he cups your face in his hands and kisses you. For a moment, you don’t kiss him back. You’re too overwhelmed. But then you’re kissing him back and it’s just as wonderful as you always thought it would be. He pulls away from you for only a moment, panting and smiling down at you.

“You know all those moments I’d start to say something and then couldn’t?” Spencer asks suddenly. You look up at him, incapable of anything but a smile as you nod in understanding.

He chokes back some tears as he continues, “I think I wanted to say I love you, but I didn’t know how. But, I do, Y/N, I love you. I love you so much.”

~~~

You’re pretty sure Hotch knows. In fact, you’re positive he knows. His treatment of you on this last case was far too cautious for him not to know.

You’re also pretty sure Penelope knows. In fact, you’re positive she knows. She’s noticed the fact that you’d stopped drinking coffee, if anything.

You’re also pretty sure Derek knows. He’s been fairly cautious with you on the last few cases, but also, if Penelope knows, he knows.

You’re damn sure Alex knows. She’s closer to you than your own mother, so she definitely knows.

You wouldn’t be surprised at all if JJ knows. She’s the most familiar with this, by far, so she definitely knows.

You’re not sure if Rossi knows, but you wouldn’t be shocked if he did.

The only person that you’re sure doesn’t know is Spencer. The two of you have been married for nearly two and a half years now, but some things never change. And you know he doesn’t know. But you’re nearly at the three month mark now. You’re bound to start showing soon. Spencer’s a brilliant man, but you’re fairly certain you could be nine months pregnant and if you didn’t tell him, he wouldn’t know. At least that’s how it seems at this point.

You can’t believe you’re running late. You’d scheduled your appointment with the doctor for way before you needed to be at work this morning, but, of course, your appointment had run over. When you walk into the office, there’s nobody in the bullpen. Shit. Of course you have a case today.

Fuck, you think. You march yourself up the few steps to the conference room, sighing deeply, already exhausted.

“Surprise!” You nearly shriek. The entire team is standing around the table, a cake in the middle of it, a banner hanging above it spelling out ‘CONGRATULATIONS’.

“You guys!” you exclaim, a huge grin spreading across your face.

“You’re finally having Baby Geniuses! Finally, Dora will have someone new to play with!” Penelope shrieks over the heads, crossing to hug you. Derek gives you a one armed hug, his other arm rocking his and Penelope’s daughter, Dora. You’re passed through the rest of the team, various congratulations and hugs and kisses from all of them, until your finally standing in front of your favorite genius in the world. He kisses you, on the lips first, before pressing another kiss onto your forehead and then into your hair.

“I knew this time,” Spencer whispers as he embraces you, “I knew.”

You narrow your eyes at him interrogatively, your smile not abating, “Which one of them told you?”

Spencer crinkles his nose adorably before sighing, “Alright, alright...Hotch might have mentioned it first.”

~~~

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fandomwriterstuff · 3 years ago

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“We’re a well-oiled team of military-grade kindergarteners,” his best friend, and the only other human on the ship who would understand what kindergarten was, continued chastising him and his companions. “The level of education and training among the three of you eclipses that of the entire rest of the members of this operation,” Annabeth continued, pointing her finger individually at himself, his pilot Jason, and his Chief Science Officer Nico. “You know, I’m not that surprised with you, Percy, but you are our XO so you should really be more responsible,” he winced at that, still feeling a bit of imposter syndrome at being the Commander of the USS Olympus. “Jason, shouldn’t you be piloting a ship or something?” At that, he saluted her and did an about face before scampering off to get into more trouble. “And you, you’re definitely way too responsible to have gotten mixed up with this Seaweed Brain and Sparky, so what’s in this tomfoolery for you?”

Nico, the only Neptunian on the ship, shifted his large black wings self consciously under the scrutiny of their Chief of Operations. Percy, as the Commander of the vessel, felt obligated to protect his usually stoic and well-behaved… acquaintance? Di Angelo was reserved, almost standoffish, and resented anyone who tried to stick up for him for some reason, but that didn’t stop Percy’s stupid seaweed brain from doing so. Hence the acquaintance. Percy was 99% sure Di Angelo didn’t consider him a friend. But he was nice to Percy and a great officer, so Percy considered him his friend.

“It was my fault, Annie,” he used her childhood nickname carefully, not knowing whether it would soften her up or piss her off more. He was hoping for softening. “It was just another one of Jason and my dumb ideas that we thought we would need a scientist to help with, and we didn’t want to piss off Leo by involving him in it. You know how he is about his engineer and warp cores and whatnot,” Percy held his hands up placatingly. “Leave Di Angelo out of this, he has sciencey things to do, isn’t that right?” Percy side-eyed his companion who (not surprisingly) rolled his eyes.

“I try not to get involved with human pranks or even Jovian mischief, but Officer Grace and First Officer Jackson were about to be meddling with my linguistics team. It isn’t my duty to tell my superiors what to do, so I sought out the next best option, supervising and ensuring no lasting damage was done to the physical or emotional state of the linguistics team. Now,” Here Percy held in a smirk as Di Angelo shrugged. “If they caused interference with the machinery of the ship, that wouldn’t be my expertise, so I allowed it to happen and-” Percy held back a laugh as the other male started speaking even faster to get everything out as Annabeth turned redder and redder. “I’m very sorry about that, truly, but I had no control over the situation.”

“No control over the situation? You three broke our LIT machine and now we have to go back to Earth as soon as we pass close enough to fix it. Soon enough nobody on this ship will understand each other,” the woman across from them crossed her arms and Percy shrunk back a bit.

“I want to make a joke about a machine being called “LIT,” but I feel like it isn’t the right time,” he muttered. “I know the Linguistic Inhibition Technology is important, but most of us have a working understanding of at least one other language, so it shouldn’t be a huge issue, right?”

“You know it works by connecting to the implant technology in our brains, so as it shuts down one by one, members of this ship from spaces stations and planets far and wide will have no clue why they suddenly can’t understand their XO, or their Chief Officer, or their best friend. So you better explain this. And you have to tell them that we’re going straight back to Earth to fix it because no nearby planets have the same brain implant tech as us. Damn Terrans and their brand name technology copyrights,” Annabeth grumbled and finally turned around to walk off.

“Hey, you’re Terran, too!” Percy shouted after her, but she just flipped him the bird.

“She can do that?” Di Angelo asked, side-eyeing Percy.

“Yeah, she’s been my best friend since we were twelve. As long as she doesn’t undermine my authority in front of everyone else, I don’t really care. I’ve done way worse to her,” Percy laughed at the other man’s frown. “Nothing bad, just pranks and things of that sort. Maybe when we get back to Earth we can show you where we’re from. You never set foot off of the training grounds while you were in school.”

“I would… like that,” Di Angelo paused and gave Percy a soft smile.

“Great,” Percy patted the younger male on the shoulder and made his way to the Command Center.

Percy sat himself down in the rotating chair and pressed on the comms device.

“Gooooood evening crew of the USS Olympus, this is your Commanding Officer, Percy Jackson, speaking,” he smiled at the engineering crew that was scuttling by, only for one of them to pause and look at him like he was speaking a different language… Whoops.

“There was a malfunction with the Linguistic Inhibition Technology and we will be returning to Earth henceforth to repair it before the damage becomes problematic. You may experience glitches with your implant technology and may revert to only understanding your first language and those you have studied extensively. If somebody looks like they’re not understanding what I’m saying right now, please escort them to the linguistics team in Science Bay 3. Carry on. Jackson, out.” He clicked again and the mic turned off.

He sighed, this would be one of his bigger mistakes. They were supposed to be exploring, but they couldn’t do that if nobody could speak to one another. One trip home couldn’t hurt him, and he was sure Annabeth would be happy to see her father.

It wasn’t until later after the Chief Officer meeting when someone finally asked Percy about Earth. For many of the non-humans on the ship, Earth was a place to get education and training to go out in the star fleet, and they never set foot outside the campus grounds, just like Di Angelo. But people had stopped asking him questions because Earth was basically “Space Australia,” as Annabeth had explained to him. The adaptability of humans and their need to pack bond astounded many and horrified many others. So, he stopped talking about home.

It was a new member of their ship, Novax (a Vulcan who was a part of Leo’s engineering team), who asked him about it first.

“I hear Earth is 75% made of pure salt water, and is filled with animals of all kinds. Do you have a favorite water animal?” he asked Percy excitedly.

“Definitely dolphins, though they aren’t underwater creatures. Like humans they need oxygen to breathe, and come up for air very often. My favorite actual underwater species would have to be a hippocampus from Neptune. I’ve always wanted to go and see one, but my human anatomy prevents me from going on-planet,” Percy explained and sipped on his hot tea.

“There are a million creatures in the ocean and you pick one that doesn’t breathe underwater?” Clarisse grunted. His Chief Tactical Officer was a brutish Martian, but very specialized in weapons. “And your second favorite isn’t even Terran.”

“What else do you know about the ‘ocean’?” Novax breathed, leaning forward.

“Eh, not much,” Percy shrugged.

“I’m not sure I heard that correctly, maybe my LIT unit isn’t functioning well,” another member of engineering asked, Nyssa. “Your planet is 75% water and you don’t even know what is inside it?”

“I could tell you about the people who spend their life learning about what survives in the deep depths,” Percy looked up, knowing he had all of the non-Terrans hooked on every word. Even Di Angelo had paused in his note taking and was staring wide-eyed at Percy. “But I don’t know if you’d want to know.”

“No we do!” Nyssa exclaimed. “There are people who dedicate their lives to a place that’s literally not navigable by humans, the main inhabitants of the planet?”

“Well as you said, most of the planet is water. Which means that coastal communities are filled with fisherman, whalers, swimmers, and more. I could tell you about some of those. I could also tell you about the scientists that spend years of their lives building bots that can’t even come close to withstanding the pressure at the deepest depths without imploding, or I could tell you about those that do come close,” he shrugged.

“What happened to those?”

“The video feed cut out after only seeing multiple rows of sharp, jagged teeth,” Annabeth answered, her sharp grin frightening those who hadn’t noticed her. Some forgot that she was Terran, because she was also half Minervan.

“I could tell you about whales. Beautiful, they come in black and white or grey or blue. But they can be as big as almost 100 feet long. That’s as long as most pirate ships. And they could fit about 400 average sized humans in their mouths. You don’t want to cross one of them. And they only live on the surface. The things that live in the deep,” Percy shuddered for effect. There were no Neptunians on the ship, so there were no natural water dwellers there, so all of his rapt listeners were shocked by this information. “There’s the anglerfish. They light up the dark with an antenna on top of their heads, and the light lures in prey. But it’s so dim elsewhere that you don’t see their big sharp teeth until you’re right up against them,” he murmured. “Giant squids are almost as big as whales but not nearly as peaceful and beautiful. They have eight arms and two tentacles that could wrap around any boat and crush it.”

“Ten limbs?” Nyssa whispered, clearly disturbed.

“Plus, the Portuguese Man o’ War,” Percy shrugged nonchalantly. “Also known as the floating terror. It’s like a big blue jellyfish that sits innocently on top of the water with huge blue tentacles that sit just underneath with a sting strong enough to kill a full grown human.”

“Don’t worry,” Annabeth grinned that shark grin again. “Percy won’t tell you about the stories of the old days. He doesn’t want to scare you.”

“That was the not scary part?” Novax gulped.

“Anyway, I just got notified that we’ll be back on Earth in a few days, so brace yourselves,” and with that, she stood and left them all staring after her. When the door clicked shut, Percy had all eyes back on him. He shrugged.

“Don’t look at me. I wasn’t going to tell you about the kr- nevermind,” he stood. “Di Angelo, with me,” the younger officer stood, back to business and was at Percy’s side again in a moment. “Clear your schedule, you’re spending shore leave with me, pal.”

“Great,” came the deadpan reply.

“Don’t sound so somber,” Percy rolled his eyes. “I’m just going to show you the beach and maybe a good gay bar. You need to let off some steam my dude.”

The other male reddened.

“That is so… That is…” he huffed. “Highly inappropriate.” he glared down at the ground and Percy felt a little bad, maybe the guy wasn’t out? But it was clear he had a preference for males. Oh well, that foot was already in Percy’s mouth.

“Fine. But I will be attending and I am a great dancer so you’re missing out,” he winked at the flustered officer and made his way back to his cabin. It would be an interesting few days.

He made a plan with Annabeth. Day one before shore leave, Percy would spread a rumor to Novax about the kraken. Bigger than a giant squid and meaner. Known to crush entire pirate ships in the olden days.

Day two, Annabeth would mention sirens to Nyssa. Hideous creatures that could lure you in with their voices and lead you to believe you were bringing your ship in to everything you ever wanted, when in reality you would crash your ships and then drown.

Day three, Percy would tell Leo about the Megalodon. A definitely very real shark so big you couldn’t even imagine it. Percy shuddered at that one.

“But, there are some good things,” Percy was speaking to Nico Di Angelo from his Commander chair, in ear shot of some of the participants of the conversation a few nights prior. “Mermaids, the siren’s nicer cousin species. And the lost city of Atlantis. Known to be a great and bountiful city, lost to the sea and cursed by the gods to be stuck down there forever. Some believe it still exists, but it’s within the Bermuda Triangle.”

“What, pray tell, is the Bermuda Triangle,” Clarisse sighed.

“Hard to explain. Ships just… go in… and they never come out,” Annabeth shrugged. “Planes go down. Ships wreck. People who go in don’t come back out, so we don’t know if Atlantis is really there or not.”

“That’s… terrifying,” Novax whispered as he walked by.

Percy was sure he had created a healthy fear of Earth’s oceans in his crew. And he meant to, because while he loved the beach and swimming, he did want to make them shy away from the depths. They wouldn’t do well to explore it.

#percy jackson #humans are weird #humans are space orcs #star trek #fusion #nicercy #percico #if you squint

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livingfools · 3 years ago

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🧡 let's talk Gemini placements

when people talk Gemini, a characteristic many point out is two-sidedness. but I think there's a more introspective side to be taken for this label - I would actually argue that Gemini's are more dual-layered.

Gemini natives have an inner rationale for the discrepancy between their talkativeness and aloofness, because they view life as a combat zone of sorts. similar to the Arian energy of a warrior fighting in a battlefield, but imagine a more trivial, video-game-like setting where mental strategy is prioritised. that is the world in which Geminis live. their brains tell them that the way to win is to think, which is where you will see their massive intelligence and mental agility come into play.

a Gemini native's thoughts are then a matrix built around this idea of life as a series of mini-tournaments, on top of which their more temperate, sociable external image lies. their mercurial energy means that their minds are constantly operating at high speed, where every small action is rationalised and reckoned with. this is why many Geminis can come off as "up in the air", introverted or aloof when they are not actively involved in a situation, because there is so much going on in their head already that they are not always hyperconscious of the world around them.

think Daniel Howell, who’s a Gemini sun, moon and mercury. if you watch any of his content, you’d be familiar with his tendency to go into existential crises; his stories of mind meltdowns during social interactions; his self-proclaimed introversion amongst a sociable and humorous internet persona - all of this is his Gemini sun and moon speaking. what's more special is that his Gemini mercury exalts his strong banter and communication to an audience - something that not only has helped him channel his personality into relatable content, but has also become signature to his online character.

here are some of my observations for how Gemini energy can manifest in different placements:

⚡️🧡🪐🌅🍿🍊🦜🌟

☀️ Gemini sun

the people I've met with these placements have a cool exterior. they seem private or even unapproachable at first glance because they tend not to see the need in voicing out unless the situation concerns them/spikes their interest. once you get to know them though, or if you catch them in a discussion, they turn out to be highly sociable people who are the best at keeping up friendly banter.

🌙 Gemini moon

these natives are introverts at heart. similar to the Gemini sun energy where they may be externally perceived as "playing dumb" or as having nothing going on in their heads. this is farther from the truth for my Gemini moons 😭. you have so many thoughts running through your head at one collective time. chaotic nervous energy coming through strong with this one. please don't overthink every small action, everything is going to be fine 😩

⚡️ Gemini mercury

this placement makes a natural at communications. super persuasive, anything analytical or linguistic is their feat. these natives often speak faster or they could override their words a lot because their mind goes bajillion miles per hour and humans can only speak so fast. mercury is a great boost for mental-gymnastics-Gemini energy.

✨ Gemini venus

these natives are super-attractors! their playful nature makes them incredibly convivial and desirable. however, their indecisiveness can cause them to pull away from romantic endeavours. this placement can manifest as someone who is cautious when approaching love, spending much of their energy thinking through people's intentions.

💫 Gemini mars

I've noticed that people with these placements tend to encounter situations that cause them to be irritated, rather than full on enraged. but when you do reach their breaking point, they will break you down with their words. they have a way of delivering their logic in a rational, pinpointed way that dissolves your argument in seconds. you can't counter them because they leave you convinced that their argument makes sense.

to bring everything together, Gemini placements are incredibly intelligent, fun to be around and stimulating, but never overlook them as shallow beings. these natives' minds are much more complex than the lighthearted way in which they may present themselves. big love to all the Gemini babies out there 💜

note: hey lovelies, hope you enjoyed this post, it took everything in me to make hdjshdj 🌟 have a great day/night, sending you lots of love! - katie 🧡

#astrology #astro notes #astrology observations #astro observations #gemini #3rd house #gemini moon #gemini sun #gemini mars #gemini venus #gemini mercury

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robo-milky · 3 years ago

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Damn it Chris- not another one-

(A/N: Even as a Chinese person myself— I too find the blending of Chinese with Japanese in Ranma 1/2 wack- but I do adore the series to death. I can’t believe I’m at the point of crossing over such an obscure fandom with TWST- what?)

蜜甜红/mì tían hóng

ミ・テアン・ホン

[Ramshackle Dorm]

Grade: Freshman

Birthday: August 8

Height: 160 cm

Dominant hand: Ambidextrous

Homeland: Joketsuzoku

Club: Mountain Lovers Club

Best Subject: Potionology

Hobbies: Silk embroidery

Pet Peeves: Being wasteful

Favourite Food: Candied Hawthorne

Least Favourite Food: Fried food

Talent: Flexability

-*-*-*-

An energetic yet patient girl who cares more for the well being of others than herself. As polite as she may be, she is surprisingly blunt and at times shock people with her shamelessness.

-*-*-*-

Alias:

Mimi/Mi (Almost the whole cast)

Conch/Horagai-chan (Floyd)

Mademoiselle Abeille à Miel (Rook)

-*-*-*-

Backstory:

Lived a somewhat rural life in the mountains where her family ran a famous medicinal clinic. Mitian was raised to take over the clinic from a young age, from running errands like gathering ingredients to treating patients. She eventually fell in love with one of the village girls but because girls were forbidden to wed, Mitian willingly went to Jusenkyo to find the Spring of the Drowned Boy but slipped into the Spring of the Drowned Bee by mistake. From then on, she’s cursed into the form of a bee whenever she’s splashed with cold water but will return to her human body when she touches hot water.

Current Situation:

Remodelled the Ramshackle Dorm into a medicinal/acupuncture/massage clinic over time. Her secret/curse is kept a hidden until chapter 3.

Trivia:

- Arrived at NCR with a bag her supplies and uniform (like Yuuken)

- Sewed the collar of her vest so it could be worn by itself

- Wears pants when she’s off duty

- Seen as a business rival by Azul (why would they sign a crazy contract for back pain relief when there’s a cheaper option right there)

- Vibes with Jade- The two can bond over mushrooms and foraging together

- At one point hired then trained Ruggie to work part-time in her clinic after Grim’s complaint about being understaffed

- Business boomed because Savannaclaw students dared each other to get acupuncture treatment as a test of courage but stayed after finding out it does wonders for the body

- She may not know a single thing about Animal Linguistics but you can bet your ass she speaks Bee

#my art #art #fanart #digital art #twst oc #twst mc #twst yuu #oc: mitian #twisted wonderland #twst grim #twst #jusenkyo! yuu #twst crossover

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pumpkinpaix · 4 years ago

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a few notes on translation

hey everyone, in light of some of my recent posts (here and here) making the rounds, I’d like to say a few things.

first, I want to say that I am not interested in trying to find a satisfactory english translation of zewu-jun at this time. I know everyone means well and is sharing different ideas out of excitement. that’s great!! I’m very glad I could get you all to consider the complexity of the title and all the pitfalls that come with trying to translate it! however, I do not wish to receive any more suggestions on how to translate zewu-jun. as I said, forcing one language into the shape of another is never going to work perfectly. that’s the nature of the thing.

I understand the impulse and temptation to try to find words in your own language to describe something that you care about, of course I do. but sometimes, you won’t be able to find those words--perhaps they elude you, or perhaps they don’t exist at all. there’s a discomfort in that, I know, but I hope everyone reading this can forgive me for saying that I want you all to live in that discomfort. after all, I have lived here my whole life. when I speak to my family, I do so knowing that I am constantly interacting with them through translation. that no matter how good my english is, it will fail me when it comes time to transmute my thoughts into chinese words.

not gonna lie, it sucks.

It occurred to me sometime in college, I think, that many people don’t experience this: the inherent alienation of not sharing a native language or culture with your parents. I was fiercely jealous, suddenly. I think about all the times my mother and I failed to communicate because of this barrier. I think about all the times that failure hurt. it all felt very unfair.

in a sort of roundabout way, I suppose my current refusal to provide, or even search for, a simple translation of zewu-jun is my attempt to force some of you to experience this, just a little. the feeling of not being able to capture your thoughts in words. the feeling of not being able to communicate. maybe that’s unkind of me, I don’t know.

every time I translate seriously, I think about how lawrence venuti described the violence of translation:

My use of the word “violence” here has been questioned by a professional translator ... Yet if by this term we mean “damage” or “abuse”, then my use of it is neither exaggerated nor metaphoric, but precisely descriptive: a translator is forced not only to eliminate aspects of the signifying chain that constitutes the foreign text, starting with its graphematic and acoustic features, but also to dismantle and disarrange that chain in accordance with the structural differences between languages, so that both the foreign text and its relations to other texts in the foreign culture never remain intact after the translation process.

Translation is the forcible replacement of the linguistic and cultural differences of the foreign text with a text that is intelligible to the translating-language reader. These differences can never be entirely removed, but they necessarily undergo a reduction and exclusion of possibilities - and an exorbitant gain of other possibilities specific to the translating language. ... The aim of translation is to bring back a cultural other as the recognizable, the familiar, even the same; and this aim always risks a wholesale domestication of the foreign text, [oftentimes serving] as an appropriation of foreign cultures for agendas in the receiving situation, cultural, economic, political. Translation is not an untroubled communication of a foreign text, but an interpretation that is always limited by its address to specific audiences and by the cultural or institutional situations where the translated text is intended to circulate and function. [emphasis mine]

-- Lawrence Venuti, The Translator’s Invisibility, 2nd edition p.14 [line breaks added for readability]

it’s wordy, I know, but I think very important in a time when english is becoming/has become the world’s lingua franca, and brings with it its history of imperialism and colonialism. we have to acknowledge that the act of translation comes with violence, sometimes intentional, sometimes not. i don’t agree with venuti entirely--I think translation always damages, but does not always abuse. regardless, i have a very hard time taking this lightly, which is why I don’t do this for a job lol can you imagine.

i bring this up because it’s something that I want people to consider: that the very act of translation is violent. that the fact that we can experience this story at all is violent. that the constant search and demand for the “right” translation is, indeed, violent. that’s okay. it comes with the territory. i’m here too, and I’m glad to have met you. 💛 but I want us all to be able to acknowledge the fact that every time we talk about the source text in a different language, we are holding knives.

i obviously do not think that translation is bad, far from it. i think it’s wonderful and wondrous to be able to communicate across cultures and across time. i read mdzs in translation first, after all. I had to, much like most of you. without it, I would never have been able to experience this story that has become so important to me! translation, for all that it damages, also creates. it makes beautiful things. it is necessary. I love doing it, I love trying to find the right balance so that someone else can also fall in love with this thing I love.

whether or not you agree that translation is inherently violent is ultimately up to you: this is a philosophy, not a truth. I am not particularly well-versed in the discourse of translation. it’s possible that this is considered a truth in translation circles. as of writing this, I wouldn’t know. however, it is a philosophy that I subscribe to--it ensures that I keep my ego in check and reminds me that, like pretty much everything, translation is inevitably political and that it can have significant ramifications.

i want to end this by cycling back to the beginning of this post. all of the suggestions I’ve received are innocuous and well-meaning. I don’t want anyone to feel bad about sending them. i hope you don’t by the end of this post! like I said, I appreciate that they’re all coming from a place of enthusiasm and love. i promise you, I get it. but I won’t be responding to any others.

if you’ve gotten to this point, i urge you all to read @hunxi-guilai‘s notes on her translation process here. she and I have very similar approaches and concerns when we try our hand at mdzs/cql translations, even if we don’t come from or end up at the same place. Though we have a similar cultural background, we have very different wells of knowledge. she does things I can’t, and I do things she can’t. we prioritize differently. but in that post, you can see a practical application of what I’m trying to say here.

and finally, remember, like hunxi said in her disclaimer: we are human, subjective, and fallible. and, in this case, we are both american. do not take our word as law, do not assume that our heritage makes us experts, or gives us a pass. it’s vital to apply your own reasoning to our posts, including this one.

in summary, here is what I want to say: 1) translations will always fail, 2) translations are always violent, 3) the way many people in EN fandom continue to try and find “the perfect translation” for terms and names is part of that violence, 4) if you like the things I post and talk about, then I hope you’ll think about this too

thanks, everyone 💛

#translation #translation theory #mdzs #the untamed #mine #mymeta #cyan gets too deep in the weeds #long post #rip to me i guess #is this even coherent? idk #is there a thesis in this? kinda maybe #look i just think about translation a whole lot #and what translation can do #and the myriad of ways it can be used as a weapon #or a tool #mdzs meta #racism #fandom #cyan vs heritage

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