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veryintricaterituals · 4 months ago

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When I was in school I went to a friend's house to work on a project on a Friday afternoon. At about 6 or 6:30 when the sun was about to set her mom called us over to the livingroom. She lit two candles with my friend and then they proceeded to put the lit candles inside of a little cupboard so no one could see them. Me, a young jewish teenager asked her, my catholic friend, why they did that and she shrugged, said it was a family tradition to bring peace and prosperity, that the women of the family did it every friday evening and then hid the candles. They were very catholic, so I bit my tongue and we went back to her room to study.

This is just one of many, many, crypto jewish traditions that still exist in my hometown of Medellín, Colombia and I want to share a little bit about them with you.

Medellín is the capital city of a region called Antioquia and it is currently the second biggest city in my country. Now the weird thing about my region and my city more specifically is that it is in the middle of fucking nowhere, like we are in a valley in the middle of the andean mountains and it would take over two weeks by river, horse and river, and dunkey and mule to even get here before the invention of cars or trains.

Now Medellín was founded over 400 years ago, and families had been coming to the region for way before then, so that means that for centuries getting to my city from the sea or from the other big cities in the country was incredibly hard. This was by design, because Medellín itself was founded by about 28 families and we know for a fact that alteast half of them were crypto jews hidding from the Spanish Inquisition, and both before and the foundation more and more jewish families arrived to the region.

This is a known fact, the DNA of the people from the region has a lot of sepharadic jewish mixed in there. Early Colombian literature dating up to the 1845 would call the people of my region the Neogranadine Jews or the Colombian Jews. But because they were crypto jews the religion and most of the traditions were lost during the 400 years that have passed, now over 90% of the population is catholic and don't really know about their origins.

But some things stuck. And I want to tell you about them.

On the 7th night of December there is this pre-christmas festival called "El día de las velitas" or the little candle night that started and was unique to Antioquia. It's supposed to commemorate the candles that people had in the streets and the windows on the night Jesus was born and that helped Mary and Joseph to find their way. Do you know how this unique festival is celebrated in my city? People take to the streets to light candles, small colorful candles that they put in wooden planks or directly on the streets, it's the night that people decorate and turn on the christmas lights and it is so important and popular that we have an actual day off on the 8th of december.

Let me show you a few pictures

I don't think I need to explain this one. Even most goyim will know about Hannukah. But it is the weirdest thing when the dates coincide and we are all lighting candles together.

My dad was in the Jewish community board and we needed to rent a place to put our jewish daycare. They found this beautiful old house that had belonged to a family in colonial times but needed a little TLC. We had them remove some wooden floors because they were too old and rotting and found a huge Magen David made out stones in the center of the floor. The house also happened to have two separate kitchens and a mikveh or immersion bath in one of the rooms. These a very traditional things that colonial houses have in my region.

My grandmother converted to Judaism so I have a side from my family that is 100% from here and didn't arrive during the 20th century. I had the pleasure to meet both of my great grandparents from that side though they died when I was young. My grandma tells me that my greatgrandmother used to have one of these immersion baths in her house when she was growing up. Women were supposed to bathe in them after their periods had ended, my catholic great grandmother respected the mikveh traddition more than I ever have.

(I wish I had photos from that specific house but this happened over ten years ago, I'll show you some immersion baths from a different colonial houses that are also in my city)

Now how about we talk about traditional clothes. I'm sure most of you have heard of Ponchos, which are traditional in the Andean region, well the one from Antioquia is a little different and it's always supposed to be worn with a hat. Let's see if you can spot what I mean.

A few years ago Spain decided to grant citizenship to the descendants of the Jewish people that they had exiled in 1492. To get it you had to prove through family trees that your family had been Jewish. My city got the most ammount of passports out of everyone in the world, more than Israel. I could have applied from both my family that came from Egypt in the 20th century (we still have the keys to our house in Spain) or through my catholic side, as both of my grandmother's last names applied. I didn't but I could have.

I don't really know why I decided to finally write this post. I have so many more stories. I just think it's both incredibly sad that so much Jewish culture and people were lost but also it's a little heartwarming to see what survived even centuries down the line.

#it took me years to decide to finally write this because i didn't want to put where i live out on the internet #but fuck it #i still don't know how i feel about this #it's a bit of mourning what could've been and a bit of look a this isn't it neat #there is so much more to say about this topic but the post is too long #like how a lot of jews changed their last name to “Rojas” which spelled backwards means “lizcor” or to remember and they still forgot #or how there is a movement of reclaiming the jewish roots we have three re-emerging jewish communities in our city #one of which already converted fully and they are WAY more obvservant than my regular traditional community #crypto jews #conversos #jumblr #jewish #jews #judaism #jewish history #colombia #medellin #lationamerica #latin america #south america

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elbiotipo · 6 months ago

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I'm not a linguist and I find the whole excercise of conlanging, while I love it and respect it, beyond my abilities, but I do have one thing or two to say about linguistic diversity and how boring is to have a "common" or "basic" language in fantasy or science fiction without exploring the implications.

Being a bilingual speaker of Spanish and English, and someone that because of work reasons and entertaiment tastes interacts a lot with English, I tend to see English as the equivalent of those "common" or "basic" languages of speculative fantasy. As a useful tool for communication, science technology and commerce. In real life, however, as you are aware, the expansion of English tends to undermine local languages, it's considered more valuable to know English that to know the language of your grandparents, or learn any other language you just feel curious about.

The experiences of every multilingual person are different, but in mine I know English, I write and read and listen to English a lot. But I don't consider myself an English *speaker*, I speak Spanish and more to the point Argentine Spanish, that's the culture I identify with, and it's the language I use to express my feelings and inner thoughts. I can't imagine saying "I love you" to anyone in English, to me it's just a tool I use to access to knowledge or communicate through language barriers ("basic", "common"). But interestingly, by both writing and participating in the wider English-speaker internet culture, isn't it part of my own culture, as an individual, too?

The fact is that English also has a culture(s) and a history and a corpus of literature. So when we write about "Common" or "Basic" languages in fiction we need to ask ourselves: where did they come from? How did they become the standard? Is there a literature, a canon, a culture of "Common" in your fantasy world? What about other languages, other cultures that aren't raised learning it and see it just as a tool? Because no matter the strenght of Anglophone cultural imperialism and the social value of learning English, I don't see Argentines, or for that matter Chinese, Italians or Russians abandoning their first language. And yet even in English and in all other languages (ESPECIALLY other languages, English is remarkably uniform) there is a variety of dialects. And we need to remember, once Latin was spoken only in a village in central Italy, and English in a rather remote rainy island. They weren't destined to have their future roles, history drives language.

So, when an author goes for the "universal language" explanation to avoid linguistic misunderstandings, for me, it raises more questions that I believe are worth exploring.

#cosas mias #anyways I will write more WHEN I get my computer I can't type unhinged rants like this #worldbuilding #linguistics #language #biotipo worldbuilding

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gracefireheart · 3 months ago

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Some nordic folklore creatures, but in (at least sort of) Gravity Falls style! :]

Got them here in separate pics + notes I tried to somewhat write as Ford. Though, I probably have massively failed 'cause I just can't replicate the fancy literature speak he does :')

Nisse

Might be related to Gravity Falls' own Gnomes, but with a few variations to them. For one, they are a little bigger than our resident Gnomes and have pointed ears instead of rounded ones. They also are more chaotic, but can become docile when given porridge of all things. And they tend to reside inside barns instead of the forest.

Such an interesting creature I wished I could speak to. However, whenever me and S have encountered one, they only speak in one of the languages of the nordic countries. They seem to understand us- calling us "turister," which a local have told us meant "tourists"- and absolutely despise us. Unless- like I mentioned earlier- we give them porridge. I would have to talk to the Gnomes and see if they have the same fascinations with porridge as these Nisse do.

Huldra

The locals I have talked to about Huldra have told a few different tales that either go one way or the other. Either they just want to get married, resulting in their cow tail popping off of them. Or they want to lure men away so they can kill them.

In a way, Huldra could be classified as a land version of a Siren. The only real big difference between one of these ladies and a regular woman is the cow tail I mentioned.

From what I have gathered, the Huldra have adapted a bit over the years to not only know the nordic languages, but also many other languages like English, Spanish, German, Hebrew, and so on. I do hope me and S can find one of them while we're here, I just hope it will not end in another rescue mission.

Nøkk

Nøkk- or Nøkken as some locals call them- is a creature that resides in lakes and sometimes rivers. Although it is probably one of the easier creatures to try and look for, we did not have the time to rent a car or walk all the way to one of these lakes that people had seemingly seen one in. Maybe some other day.

The descriptions of this creature, however, was still nonetheless interesting. It is mostly made out of algae and seaweed, has bright yellow eyes that gaze at you, and- during the full moon- can transform into a shining, white horse. The locals that have told me about this "horse form" have spoken about Nøkken luring people onto it's back before diving right into the water to drown them.

Draug

Draug- or Draugen- is a creature I have been advised to not encounter at all. The few that knew of it told of tales of sailors, fishermen, and seafarers alike stumbling upon this creature, then soon after meet their demise. Some have said Draugen is the one that kills them, some have said Draugen is simply there to warn of their upcoming death. No one is sure which is true as no one has met it and survived.

Another thing a select few locals have mentioned is how Draugen might have been once a human itself, but then met a tragic end out on the ocean. It would've been nice to try and speak to it, but considering the possibility of S and I dying as a result, I would rather not take the risk.

#For some of these fellas. I decided to put my own lil' spin on them.#The most notable one being Draugen. which I've decided to mix two interpretations of it.#I wanted Draugen to look like a regular fisherman from behind. but anything but from the front.#Nøkken. Nisse and Huldra pretty much look like a previous drawing of mine I've done of them. but I did change up Nøkken a lil' bit #And honestly. I like this version I did of Nøkken than the previous one :]#my art #Gravity Falls #Sorta #Nordic Folklore

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dontexpectmuch · 10 months ago

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i know how much you guys love this series, so i give you a new part. this one how ever will be;

comments/feedback is highly appreciated! please, im getting desperate :d

Habits Jude Bellingham might develop before you guys get into a relationship!

(a Lost in Madrid drabble!)

it is no secret that jude just loves to talk. he genuinely enjoys it so much to share any and every thought that goes through his mind, no matter how small it might be. he couldn’t tell when it started exactly, but suddenly he found himself on his way to you, a tired student that just wants to finish their work. as soon as he lifts his hand, knocks on your door and enters the room his lips start moving, talking so lively and fast that you need some time to register what is even happening.

“what do you mean ‘m talkin’ your ear off? you literally study literature and shit!” - “it’s more about reading, jude.” you sigh, wishing for any kind of help at this moment.

it is also nothing new for you to receive messages from jude during your quiet evenings when you decide to stay home. jude recently got into sending audio messages, you being his number one victim [forced] friend, whom he shared this new passion with. and most of the times he won’t even say anything important. he’ll just sing a new spanish song he has learned that past week. and he will sing. no matter how terrible it sounds and how much it makes your ears bleed. though, you also always listen to those audios, even though you know what the content will be.

“jude?” opening your door after hearing a desperate knock, you did not think that you would see your [not] friend standing there. he looks tiredly at you, clothes wrinkled and sandals on, “mum wanted me to bring you some cake she baked.” he gives you the tupperware filled with slices of cake, energy low. you feel your shoulders relax as you look up at him, “tell her i love her, please.” he just nods. and even though he always complains to you about how he is not some delivery boy, he can’t help but get excited at the thought of seeing your soft eyes when you receive food his mum made. it makes him feel giddy inside.

he makes you trip purposely whenever you walk in front of him, and then giggles and jogs away to join the others on the field when you send daggers his way with your glare.

he forces you to play two-touch, even though you have told him multiple times already that you cannot play really well. he quite literally forces you to become better, giving you tips while making you pass the ball against the wall back and forth. “i don’t want to do this anymore, jude.” - “well, that’s too damn bad.” his gaze serious as he corrects your form once more. “bitch.” you murmur under your breath, praying for him to just disappear somewhere and leave you alone.

“what?” you ask as you look up from your notes, eyes wide as you watch jude place a cup of coffee and a cinnamon roll onto your desk. “i heard that you like sweets, or whatever.” he says, [desperately] wanting to look cool. your heart starts to pick up in speed when you look back and forth between jude and the things he just gave you, warmth spreading through your body. “thanks.”

“watch me.” he smirks at you, who looks quite annoyed tired at him. “i’ll hit this first time.” - “like you did to me on my first day here?” - “dude! i told you not to talk about it anymore, ‘t’s a sensitive topic for me, ‘kay?”

heartfelt conversations between you are not as rare as one might think. whenever jude comes to you to talk your ear off while toi work on your research, you sometimes tell him about your own stuff. that leads to various topics you two discuss, which also results in sharing some intimate thoughts. it makes jude, who usually looks so confident and well put together, look more human, like a 20 year old guy who also learns something new every day.

—————————————

surpriseee! hope you like it!! :)

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #football x reader #football one shot #x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham x you #football #jude bellingham fluff #lostinmadrid #relationship

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wisteriagoesvroom · 6 months ago

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waittttttt your brain is so bodacious vampire frando sounds so interesting

if you’re comfortable/want to, tell me more ? 👀

ok i rly was supposed get some stuff done before fp1 later, but since you are ENCOURAGING me...

NORPINTO-FRANDO VAMPIRE AU

lando has been a vampire for like. a relatively long time by human standards. make of that what you will

he lives in an apartment, what we do in the shadows style, with... carlos and oscar

lando generally tries to be really clean with his feeding and take only enough blood out, so that the folks he bites wake up with a headache and minor anaemia

however. he drags unsuspecting graduate student franco into an alley and bites him, but gets distracted because franco TALKS the whole time.

turns out franco is like. a literature student who has always had an overactive imagination. he quickly puts the dots together and is like "OH, MY GOD, ARE YOU... A VAMPIRE" before lando is like "shush this won't take long if you stay still" and sinks his fangs into franco

franco yaps at length about how "at home in argentina there are witches and el familiar, in fact the idea of good and bad is very fluid in argentina and there is intercreature harmony, and oh! do you maybe know some of the witch clans from catamarca or salta?" and lando is like "??? how do you know all this ???" but by then he also realises his teeth have been in franco's neck for way too long, and oh shit franco is passing out and ahhhh---

franco is accidentally turned 🧛

lando is like "CRAP what do i do with this baby vampire wth ???" and he fireman carries him back to the house to try and figure it out. he spends half the time googling how to un-turn a vampire because oscar told him that like, google can tell you lots of stuff now

blablabla franco cannot be un-turned, so the rest of the fic is probably lando teaching franco how to do Vampire Things.

except franco just TALKS the whole time through EVERYTHING, including: how to feed, how to fly, how to stay out of trouble with the supernatural creatures international tribunal etcetc.

franco asks a lot of questions like "is it true you hate garlic" to lando and oscar is like "no he just hates fish, that's different".

carlos is like "i didn't know ur new sire speaks SPANISH" and then he actually gets rly excited to have a yapyap friend too

at some point oscar gets sick and tired of people not doing the dishes when they're supposed to in the house, so he turns into a bat and flies off in a huff

anyway idk how it ends but franco enjoys being a vampire somehow and they have a little vampire coven and lando gifts franco a little onyx hellhound figure to remind him of home

franco definitely asks lando "can i fly to argentina faster now" and lando is like. "no. you definitely need a rest stop somewhere further north like... mexico or smth, pls don't attempt that, also we have heavy regulations now because of the huge volume of air traffic in the sky so, pls just take a plane. here have the keys to my jet and tell them the code is ln4, they'll take you anywhere."

franco: YOU HAVE A PRIVATE JET WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY SO? WHY DO WE LIVE IN SUCH A DUMP?

lando, carlos, oscar (altogether): oi/hey/excuse me mate this is our dump 😠

edited to add: a carcar moment, and part 2

#frando #norpinto #vampire au #ln4 #fc43 #wiz.HCs #wiz.askbox #i had a little too much fun w this

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andy-15-07 · 13 days ago

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could you write a pedro pascal x reader story about getting pedro a book he's been wanting for ages? like we see it at some library while out and buy it for him, as a little gift to show him some love. and he loves it, he'd been meaning to get that book for ages but never found it. and he's talking our ears off about it and we ask him to read it for us and he's super happy and ugh just bookworm pedro in love with books and with us 🥺🥰

Our Bookish Love Story

PAIRING:Pedro Pascal x reader

WORD COUNT: 2673| requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

“Y/N, you really know how to surprise me,” Pedro said, his eyes sparkling as we strolled side-by-side through the grand entrance of our favorite local library. Sunlight filtered through the tall windows, casting playful patterns on the polished wooden floors. It was a Saturday afternoon—a day we both reserved for wandering among shelves laden with worlds waiting to be discovered.

I squeezed his hand gently. “I thought you’d appreciate a quiet escape today,” I replied with a smile. “Besides, I have something special planned.”

Pedro chuckled, running his fingers through his dark hair. “You always do, y/n. But I can’t help but wonder—what mystery have you uncovered this time?”

As we passed the literature section, I could see the excitement in his eyes. He was a self-proclaimed bookworm, endlessly fascinated by stories that whisked him away from the ordinary. Over the years, I’d grown to love how his face lit up when discussing a well-crafted narrative. Today, however, there was an extra gleam of anticipation in his gaze—a secret he’d been holding for ages.

“Remember how I’ve been going on about that book?” Pedro began, almost in a whisper as we paused near an ornate shelf lined with classics. “The one I’ve been searching for forever?”

I smiled knowingly. “You mean The Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafón?”

His eyes widened, and his voice turned reverent. “Yes! That very book—the one that’s been eluding me for ages. I’ve always dreamed of owning a pristine copy. Every time I see it referenced or hear someone mention it, I feel this inexplicable pull, like I’m meant to dive into its labyrinth of stories and mysteries.”

I stepped closer to the shelf, pretending to peruse the spines, but my heart was already set. “Then let’s find it,” I said softly, tugging him along. “I have a hunch that today might be your lucky day.”

Pedro’s smile widened, and he pulled me into a warm embrace. “Y/n, you’re a lifesaver,” he murmured against my hair. “I’ve searched high and low in bookstores, on the internet, even in the most obscure corners of this city, but it always seems to slip through my fingers.”

Our conversation continued as we walked through the library, voices low and filled with shared excitement. I could see the passion in Pedro’s eyes as he recounted every detail he’d ever known about the book—its mysterious setting in post-Spanish Civil War Barcelona, the intricate plot woven through the alleys of memory and time, the haunting allure of characters who seemed to live on the page long after the book was closed.

“Every time I talk about it, I end up feeling like I’m sharing a piece of my soul,” Pedro confessed as we found a quiet nook by a large arched window. “I even have a favorite passage—I can recite it in my sleep. It’s not just a book for me; it’s a doorway to another world.”

I laughed softly. “Then tonight, you’ll open that door for both of us, won’t you?”

He grinned and nodded eagerly. “Absolutely. There’s nothing I’d love more than to share its magic with you.”

Our little conversation was interrupted by the sound of a librarian’s footsteps echoing softly down the corridor. We exchanged amused glances before continuing our quest through the maze of books. As we turned a corner near a display of new arrivals, my heart skipped a beat—there, nestled between a first edition of a beloved classic and a modern thriller, was a copy of The Shadow of the Wind. Its cover, a blend of deep blues and dusky grays, seemed to whisper secrets of mystery and passion.

“Pedro, look!” I exclaimed, pointing at the book with an excited sparkle in my eyes.

Pedro hurried over, his expression shifting from curiosity to unabashed delight as he reached for the book with trembling fingers. “Oh my God, y/n,” he breathed, holding the book as if it were a rare treasure. “I can’t believe it… I’ve been looking for this edition forever!”

He flipped through the pages reverently, his eyes glistening with tears of joy and nostalgia. “Every time I see this cover in my mind, I imagine the stories hidden within these pages, waiting to be unveiled. I’ve dreamed of a moment like this for so long.”

I wrapped an arm around his waist, sharing in his elation. “I knew it was meant to be,” I whispered. “I couldn’t let you go another day without it.”

The librarian approached, smiling kindly as she noticed our animated discussion. “That’s a wonderful choice,” she commented softly. “It’s one of our most sought-after editions. I hope it brings you as much joy as it has to others.”

Pedro thanked her warmly, and after a brief exchange about its rarity and literary significance, I insisted we purchase the book right then and there. “Come on, Pedro,” I said, tugging him gently. “Let’s head to the bookstore next door. I want you to take this home tonight.”

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes still fixed on the precious book. “Y/n, you have no idea how much this means to me,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “This isn’t just a gift. It’s a piece of my heart, a long-awaited dream coming true.”

We left the library, the cool afternoon air enveloping us as we walked hand-in-hand toward our next destination. The bookstore was a charming, tucked-away haven with creaking wooden floors, cozy reading nooks, and the intoxicating scent of old paper and fresh ink. Inside, the soft glow of vintage lamps illuminated rows upon rows of literary wonders.

“Here we are,” I said, leading him to the counter. “I’d like to purchase this copy of The Shadow of the Wind, please.”

The shop owner, an elderly man with a gentle smile, took the book carefully from my hand. “An excellent choice,” he remarked, running his finger along the embossed title. “This edition is truly special—rare, indeed. It’s not every day that one finds such a treasure.”

Pedro’s eyes shone as he leaned in, almost reverently. “I’ve read countless reviews, heard endless tales of its magic, but never imagined I’d actually hold it. It’s like fate, y/n. Thank you for making this moment real.”

After the transaction was complete, we settled into a quiet corner of the bookstore, sinking into plush armchairs that seemed to have been waiting just for us. The world outside the shop faded away as Pedro carefully cradled the book, his fingers tracing its cover as if memorizing every line and curve.

“Y/n, may I read a little from it?” he asked, a note of eager anticipation in his voice.

I nodded, my heart swelling with love. “I’d love nothing more.”

Pedro cleared his throat gently, a playful glint in his eyes as he began to read aloud. His voice was soft at first, then gradually grew richer and more animated with each line. He recited a passage that described the labyrinthine streets of Barcelona, the echoes of forgotten voices, and the bittersweet dance between memory and desire. Every word was imbued with his passion—not just for the story, but for the art of reading itself.

“I’ve always believed that books are more than just words on a page,” he said, pausing to meet my eyes. “They’re living, breathing entities that hold our dreams, our fears, and our hopes. This book… it’s a portal to another time, another life. And every time I read it, I feel like I’m rediscovering a part of myself.”

I listened, utterly entranced by his delivery. “Pedro, you make it sound so magical,” I whispered. “Your love for literature is one of the many things that make you so incredible.”

He grinned, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “And now, thanks to you, I can finally share that magic with you, too. It’s not often that someone understands just how deeply a story can touch your soul.”

The conversation flowed easily between us as we discussed the themes of the book, its intricate plot, and the way its characters mirrored our own struggles and dreams. Pedro’s enthusiasm was contagious—every time he mentioned a detail, his face lit up, and I found myself laughing and nodding along, caught up in the wonder of his words.

“Y/n,” he said between paragraphs, “do you ever feel that books are like old friends? They’re always there when you need them, offering comfort, wisdom, and even a bit of mischief?”

I smiled. “I do. I think every book holds a piece of who we are—like a secret diary written by the universe.”

He laughed softly, the sound warm and inviting. “That’s exactly it. And tonight, with this book in my hands, I feel like I’m finally living the story I’ve always dreamed of.”

Time seemed to slip by as Pedro continued to read, his voice filling the cozy space with the sound of whispered adventures and timeless romance. I couldn’t help but lean in closer, captivated not only by his words but by the sheer joy radiating from him. In that moment, we were more than just two people in love with literature—we were two souls united by the magic of storytelling.

After he finished reading the selected passage, Pedro closed the book gently and looked at me with eyes that shimmered with affection. “What do you think?” he asked softly. “Do you feel it too—the pull of a story that promises to change us?”

I reached out, placing my hand over his. “Every word you read made me feel like I was right there with you,” I said, my voice tender. “I love that about you, Pedro—the way you make everything come alive, the way you share your heart through these stories.”

He leaned in and kissed my hand gently. “Thank you, y/n. For understanding me, for loving me—and for giving me this incredible gift. This isn’t just a book—it’s a symbol of everything we share: our passion, our dreams, and the unspoken promise that we’ll always have each other to lean on.”

As the afternoon light began to fade, we left the bookstore hand-in-hand, the treasured book tucked safely under Pedro’s arm. On our walk home, our conversation turned to our future, to other stories we’d chase together, and to the quiet moments of joy that came from sharing the simple pleasures of life.

That evening, back in the comfort of our shared apartment, Pedro set the book on the coffee table and turned to me with a playful glint in his eyes. “Y/n, now that you’ve given me this amazing gift, there’s only one thing left to do,” he declared.

I raised an eyebrow. “And what might that be?”

He sat down beside me on the couch, the book open on his lap as he looked up at me with sincere intensity. “I want to read it to you. Not just the passages I love, but the whole story—from beginning to end. I want you to experience every twist, every secret, every moment that has captivated my heart for so long.”

I felt a warm rush of affection and excitement. “I’d love that, Pedro,” I replied. “Curl up with me and read aloud. Let your voice be the soundtrack of our evening.”

He grinned widely, settling in comfortably as he adjusted the book. “All right then. Let’s begin our own little adventure,” he said, his tone brimming with anticipation.

For the next few hours, our living room transformed into a private sanctuary of whispered words and shared dreams. Pedro’s rich voice filled the room as he read aloud, pausing occasionally to explain a line or to share an anecdote about the book’s creation. Every now and then, he would look up at me, his eyes sparkling as if the pages held a secret that only we could understand.

“Did you know, y/n,” he said at one point, “that Carlos Ruiz Zafón wrote this book as a tribute to the magic of storytelling? He believed that every reader carries a universe within them, waiting to be ignited by the right words.”

I nodded, completely entranced. “That’s so beautiful,” I murmured. “I think every time you read it, you remind me just how much passion you have for the art of literature.”

Pedro’s smile softened, and he continued, “Every time I read, I imagine a world where every book is a doorway. And tonight, you’ve opened a door for me—a door into a realm of love, hope, and endless adventure.”

As the night wore on, our conversation wove in and out of the narrative. We laughed over shared insights, debated interpretations of ambiguous lines, and even recited favorite quotes back and forth. It was as if the book had not only brought Pedro immense joy, but had also deepened the connection between us.

“I could listen to you read forever,” I confessed during a quiet moment, nestled close as he turned the page. “Your voice, your passion—it makes the words dance. I love you even more for it.”

Pedro’s eyes met mine, soft and sincere. “And I love you for believing in me, for cherishing these moments, and for always understanding that sometimes the greatest gift isn’t the object itself but the love and care behind it.”

When the final chapter finally drew to a close, we sat in silence for a while, letting the last echoes of Pedro’s reading fade into the gentle hum of the night. The book lay open on his lap—a symbol of our shared journey, a testament to the way a simple act of love can transform an ordinary day into something magical.

Breaking the silence, I whispered, “Thank you, Pedro. For everything—the book, your passion, and most of all, for making me feel like I’m part of your world.”

He pulled me into a warm embrace, his voice husky with emotion. “Thank you, y/n. I promise that every time I open this book, I’ll remember today. I’ll remember the gift of love that you gave me—not just in the form of a book, but in the way you make my heart feel full.”

We spent the rest of the night curled up together, the pages of The Shadow of the Wind scattered like confetti around us, each one a reminder of our shared adventure in literature and life. In that quiet space, where words and love intermingled, we found that our relationship was built not just on romance, but on a deep, abiding passion for the stories that shape us.

Over the following weeks, that day at the library and bookstore became one of our favorite memories—a chapter in our own story that we often revisited. Pedro would occasionally pick up the book, his eyes lighting up as he recounted that magical afternoon. And I, ever grateful for the moment I had found that treasured edition, would smile and say, “It was just the beginning of our novel gift—a story that continues to write itself with every day we share.”

One rainy afternoon, as we sat together by a window with rain tapping softly against the glass, Pedro turned to me with that familiar glint in his eyes. “Y/n, what do you think our next adventure should be?” he asked, his voice a gentle blend of curiosity and excitement.

I laughed softly, “Maybe we’ll find another book that changes everything. Or maybe we’ll write our own story—one chapter at a time.”

He pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Either way, as long as I have you by my side, I know it will be a story worth telling.”

And so, our bookish love story continued—a narrative woven with passion, dialogue, and the shared magic of literature. Every new book became a shared journey, every page a testament to our bond, and every whispered word a promise that no matter what stories lay ahead, we would always have each other.

Because in the end, it wasn’t just about finding that one elusive book—it was about discovering that the greatest adventure of all was the love we nurtured every single day.

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higuchisora · 2 months ago

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Adding onto my headcanon about Zaun culturally valuing art and literature:

The names in Zaun have meanings. Not just in the "Oh, my name means 'flower'" way. These names are primarily references to poetry or music or literature in some way.

This idea comes in combination with my headcanon that Zaun has a different dialect/sister-language to Piltover (like how the Romance languages share a common origin but are different, or how there are a bunch of different types of Spanish but they're all still considered Spanish).

The Zaunite characters' names seem strange to us because they're either a reference to something, or are transliterated Tolkien-style from Zaunite/old Piltovan (at some point League said Zaun was the original Piltover before it sank).

Which is why we see names like Powder and think, what the fuck? It's because it's a transliteration of a name that doesn't really make sense in our IRL languages. In reality, it's probably considered a pretty normal name. Just like how straight up naming someone "beautiful" doesn't sound normal in English (whereas "Hope" does), but is fairly standard in plenty of other languages (ex. Belle/Bella).

Similar to Ekko and why it's spelled this way. It's not "echo but more masculine/quirky," it's actually a name with an entirely different meaning that HAPPENS to sound like our English word "echo." We see phenomena like this IRL all the time (called "false friends"), of words in unrelated languages sounding similar even though they developed entirely independently.

Vi (short for Violet) works fine because it is, in fact, an easily translated name. But the name itself is also in reference to a classic book/song/poem.

Names like Silco, Vander, and Claggor either couldn't be transliterated/localized or sounded even weirder in meaning than Powder. Mylo either is another "false friend"/cognate name, or is a localization of his actual name. Regardless, all of their names are in reference to literature, poetry, and/or some other artistic expression.

(I'd like to add, before I forget- that Vander's name IS real- according to the Internet, it's Greek for "good man", which might not be real but I'm taking it and running with it as a name from an old play or something).

Googling Sevika's name gave a pretty straightforward meaning- it apparently means "female servant"/maid in Hindi (please correct me if I'm wrong, those who know Hindi). Which. I'm not trying to think about the negative implications of that, though there are many. So I'll try to make a positive spin on her name and say she's another "false friend" name, and it means something entirely different in the Zaunite/ancient Piltovan language.

#arcane #arcane headcanon #zaun #zaun headcanon #yall im trying so hard to channel my energy positively and every time i find more things about this show that lowkey pisses me off #arcane critical #sevika #zaun family #vi headcanons #jinx headcanons #ekko headcanon #like please why would they name sevika that. why.#not even “warrior”?#sevika headcanon #trying so hard to save zaun from riot #my god zaun and zaun characters im so sorry. riot doesnt deserve you #arcane fandom critical

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spanishskulduggery · 4 months ago

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You're probably familiar with the cardinal directions in Spanish (and they're usually cognates with English):

(el) norte = north

(el) sur = south

(el) este = east

(el) oeste = west

However there are other more literary terms that you will see from time to time for using the directions as adjectives. This is different from something like norteño/a "northern" or "northerner" and sureño/a "southern" or "southerner"

And sometimes people will say del norte / sur for "from the north/south" as an adjective though it can translate as "northern/southern" regardless

...

Primarily what you will see for the fancier or more literary/geographic terms is:

septentrional = northern

meridional = southern

oriental = eastern

occidental = western

Particularly oriental and occidental get used with geographical terms, like el Medio Oriente is "the Middle East" or something like el hemisferio occidental "western hemisphere"

It's also common to see el Oriente as "the East" or "the Orient", and el Occidente as "the West"

I'd say oriental and occidental are much more common than septentrional for example... Largely you can consider them synonymous, but I think of septentrional as more formal than del norte and meridional feels more formal than del sur to me

These terms may also be used in relation to nautical things, or astronomical terms like constellations or the stars in the night sky, especially septentrional being used for the constellation Big Dipper [called (La) Osa Mayor in Spanish as Ursa Major, or "big bear"; sometimes called El Carro being "the Chariot" or "Wagon/Cart"], and sepentrión or septentrional also applies to stars near the North Star/Polaris and the Little Dipper [(La) Osa Menor or Ursa Minor; "smaller bear"]

Unrelated but Osa means "she-bear" literally; el oso is generally "male bear"

...But in etymology septentrional means "(related to) seven oxen", as the old word for the Big Dipper was "the Plow/Plough" or "Wagon", and it was said that the Seven Stars were the oxen pulling the plough; that sept- is related to "seven"; so again septentrional came to be related to "north" simply because that's what you'd look for as a sailor because that's where the North Star was

In other words, "north" was related to "the North Star and where you'd find it and what other stars were around it" hence septentrional

The other important directional words you'll want to know are:

el Levante = the East

el Poniente = the West

You may have heard the term "Levant" used for the Middle East; these terms come from Latin but have to do with the rising and setting sun

levantar is "to raise/rise", and poner(se) el sol is "for the sun to set"; thus el Poniente is "where the sun sets" for example and viceversa el Levante is "where the sun rises" which is more based on the old world knowledge of the East being more like Persia, Mesopotamia, and what the Ancient World called Asia [today we'd say "Asia Minor" now that we know fully about China and the Far East]

Other words to maybe just be aware of:

boreal = North / North wind

austro/a, austral = South / South wind

These you won't see too much except for something like la aurora boreal for "Northern lights" or just the Latin aurora borealis or when you look into the etymology of places like Australia as literally being "southern" [the north wind was el bóreas related to Boreas from Greek mythology]

And maybe be aware of el céfiro "zephyr" which was linked to the west wind; not that you necessarily need to know it for "west wind" unless you're reading Greek mythology or fancy literature, but they do use it when discussing the wind every so often

Side Note: el norte is also related to the ideas of "finding one's way"; like perder el norte can be "to lose one's way" which is literally "to lose north" - but it's related to nautical terms where people would follow la Estrella Polar "North Star / Polaris" and compasses facing north

A lot of directional vocabulary is related to wind and stars; which does make sense since it features heavily in navigation and nautical terms

#spanish #languages #learning spanish #vocabulario #langblr #la gramatica #long post

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