#sentimental language

[my-deer-history]

On partiality

A few thoughts on why 'partiality' - even more than 'love' - is an important expression in Hamilton and Laurens’ correspondence.

Partiality is a word that denotes fondness, preference or bias for one person over others, often used in sentimental writing as a synonym for love (both familial and romantic). Jane Austen uses both forms in Pride and Prejudice (1813):

Miss Bennet’s astonishment was soon lessened by the strong sisterly partiality which made any admiration of Elizabeth appear perfectly natural [...] I had often seen him in love before. […] From that moment I observed my friend’s behaviour attentively; and I could then perceive that his partiality for Miss Bennet was beyond what I had ever witnessed in him.

Hamilton himself uses partiality in the context of love in a letter to Elizabeth Schuyler:

I believe in my soul you are an inchantress; but I have tried in vain, if not to break, at least, to weaken the charm—you maintain your empire in spite of all my efforts—and after every new one, I make to withdraw myself from my allegiance my partial heart still returns and clings to you with increased attachment.

Alexander Hamilton to Elizabeth Schuyler, 5 October 1780

But partiality is not a direct synonym for love - the nuance comes from the fact that it is an antonym of impartiality. 

An enlightened 18th century gentleman walked a fine line to balance rationality - which elevated reason, intellect and justice (especially in the spheres of public life, such as politics and business) - with sentimentality - which expected him to display profound emotion at appropriate (usually private) moments, as a testament to his morality.

Expressing love was certainly a virtuous thing - a man could profess love for his family, spouse, country, comrades, beliefs (religious or otherwise), and so on - but when it was labelled partiality, that love was made less gentlemanly, less virtuous and noble. Partiality masked flaws, reducing the ability to make objective choices, and hinted at a weakness of character in a gentleman who was supposed to be fair, just and disinterested in his dealings. Therefore, a man who called himself partial was admitting that he allowed his feelings to affect his integrity, and was showing preference one person over others in a way that was possibly unfair or unwarranted - an intimate personal favouritism.

We see it used in this form in works spanning the century. In Alexander Pope’s 1717 poem, Eloisa to Abelard, Eloisa begs for her “partial eyes” to be turned away from her lover, Abelard, and back to pure religious love.

Yet then, to those dread altars as I drew, Not on the Cross my eyes were fix'd, but you: Not grace, or zeal, love only was my call, And if I lose thy love, I lose my all. […] Ah no! instruct me other joys to prize, With other beauties charm my partial eyes, Full in my view set all the bright abode, And make my soul quit Abelard for God.

In Charlotte Smith’s Emmeline (1778), partiality is contrasted with virtuous affection:

But for your charming friend my heart long retained its partiality; nor would it ever have felt for her that pure and disinterested friendship which is now in regard to her its only sentiment, had not the object of my present regret and anguish been thrown in my way.

In Evelina (1778), Fanny Burney shows the peril of partiality in masking flaws.

Yet perhaps I have rather reason to rejoice than to grieve, since this affair has shown me his real disposition, and removed that partiality which, covering his every imperfection, left only his virtues and good qualities exposed to view. [...] You flattered yourself that your partiality was the effect of esteem, founded upon a general love of merit, and a principle of justice; and your heart, which fell the sacrifice of your error, was totally gone ere you expected it was in danger.

We see this subtlety of meaning in Hamilton’s April 1779 letter to Laurens:

But as you have done it and as we are generally indulgent to those we love, I shall not scruple to pardon the fraud you have committed, on condition that for my sake, if not for your own, you will always continue to merit the partiality, which you have so artfully instilled into me.

In using feigned legalese (“pardon the fraud you have committed”), Hamilton puts himself in the role of a judge, but admits that he is not an impartial one - he is acting self-awarely according to his personal bias, and the love he expresses is tinged by it. Hamilton uses partiality again in his 8 January 1780 letter, after Laurens tries to promote Hamilton as a better candidate for the diplomatic mission to the court at Versailles:

Believe me my Dr Laurens I am not insensible of the first mark of your affection in recommending me to your friends for a certain commission. However your partiality may have led you to overrate my qualifications that very partiality must endear you to me.

In other words - your affection means that you’re not being objective about me, and that’s adorable. He’s teasing, acknowledging both his own shortcomings and Laurens’ inability or unwillingness to see them. Hamilton puts it in even plainer terms in his 30 June 1780 letter, in which he discusses the possibility of Laurens being paroled early. He contrasts both the “love” the military family feels for Laurens and the fair and objective rules of war with his own subjective affection:

I have talked to the General about your exchange; but the rigid rules of impartiality oppose our wishes. I am the only one in the family who think you can be exchanged with any propriety, on the score of your relation to the Commander in Chief. We all love you sincerely; but I have more of the infirmities of human nature, than the others, and suspect my self of being byassed by my partiality for you.

In sum, Hamilton’s written correspondence expresses love for Laurens in a variety of ways beyond the obvious - the word ‘love’ itself is indeed less telling than the other phrases he uses. In the context of the period, calling both himself and Laurens partial towards each other suggests that their affection was not just the pure and rational comradeship of fellow-soldiers, but a more personal, intimate and subjective sentiment.

[toshidou]

can't stop thinking of domestic ghost learning how to crochet after he sees you practicing, large scarred, battle worn hands working away with a crochet hook and wool; not missing the way your eyes go fond as he joins you on the couch to crochet by your side. trying to suppress your giggle at the soft sounds of his frustrated grunts when he tries (and fails) to tie the slip knot for the 5th time in a row before he turns to you with a blank expression, arms extended in your direction.

what starts as slowly mastering little granny squares quickly evolves into working on whole projects; clothes, hats, face masks, stuffed animals. your house slowly fills up with both yours and his creations. although it's something you mostly do together, it wouldn't be uncommon for you to come downstairs as the sun rises only to find Simon hunched over a ball of wool, clearly awoken from a night of terrors and craving comfort from the repetition that crocheting provides.

he'd inevitably have to leave for deployment, but not without laying out a new cardigan he'd made just for you (a way he can keep you warm despite the thousands of miles that might separate you) or a little crocheted plush of himself, fitted with its very own little mask; even giving you the option of dressing it in either combat gear or his go to black hoodie and jeans. it leaves you teary every time, clutching his new creation to your chest and nuzzling the soft wool into your cheek, always knowing that his hands were made for more than just war and death.

and if the day comes you finally bring a child into the world, you better believe he's making them an entire wardrobe that matches the clothes he's already made for the two of you; holding the completed tiny garments up whilst you try your absolute hardest to not burst into tears at how small they look, knowing they're so lucky to have a dad who's going to love them so, so much.

[buttdumplin]

I only know Mexican Spanish, so I can only speak for myself and those I grew up with but "mami" and "papi" are not the equivalent of mommy/daddy as used in sexual or intimate relations.

We use mami and papi with our kids. It's what our tíos and tías call us that affectionately. It's what the lady from the corner store calls us when she's sweet on us and can't quite remember our names. It's what our grandparents call us as they fix up a scraped knee. And they bring out papito/mamita when we're either in deep shit, or in need of comfort that can only come from someone with more knowledge, power, or experience than us. It's a diminutive term of endearment.

I'm not saying it's never used as mommy/daddy, but it's hardly ever a title. The context of it is so wildly different, because it's usually what we call someone we're responsible for.

"Mamas" tho? Mamas can fuck.

[delusional-cryptid]

>warning for scars from canonical self harm<

I’ve been wanting to learn to work with color more, so I started doing these little pieces with songs I associate with isat/Siffrin! Here’s the song if you want!!

[mci-writing]

Hi I saw that your requests are open. Can I request a senku x female reader where he has a crush on an older tattooed foreigner who was on vacation in Japan when the world was petrified

I've had this sitting for a minute tbh, but mostly bc I didn't want there to be too many spoilers for anime-onlys 😭😭 mostly for how tattoos work,,, Don’t be surprised if there’s a heavy focus on language plot wise, I’ve been working on a lot of linguistics homework 😞

Anyways, hope you enjoy

Science Makes Age Complicated (Ishigami Senku x Reader):

Warnings: technically an age gap but also not (reader was once 2 years older than Senkuu, but now they're the same age due to time shenanigans), fem!reader, some language use (a few swears here and there), reader is American (RIP but it’s plot relevant), reader is implied to know an insane amount of languages (bc this is Dr Stone and it’s relevant to world-building)

"Think you can scrounge something up for her, Yuzuriha?" Senku parts the lush shrubbery for his friend, unresponsive to her obvious surprise at the sight before her. He figured it would go that way, considering how kept away the whole area is, but he'd rather start the spectacle with her big reactions instead of the loud and boisterous version involving the rest of their crew, "I'm more than sure you'll manage to make her something she's 1 billion percent comfortable in."

He'd considered this statue his secret weapon for the next part of their excursion. Well, that would be his explanation as to why he'd waited so long to unveil her and finally free her from her encasement. Really, he could never find the proper time to finally revive her, especially when every time it would feel right to, something else would arise that would require them to use the revival fluid for someone else.

When talks of traveling to the Americas came up, he knew it'd be the perfect time to properly reveal her and, hopefully, ease her into their current predicament. While Gen is a great diplomat, thew mentalist isn't exactly fluent in as many languages as the girl in the statue before them. Even more, if they are to run into more people (which they very likely are), it's better to have at least two representatives to talk things over. That's going to be his reasoning, anyway.

Deep down, he's a little nervous to finally see her again, especially now that he's technically older than her by a few months at least. The last time they'd seen each other had been the day before the petrification light, the two decided to spend time with each other before he went back to school. She was visiting Japan for a bit, a trip she'd planned to make at least once a year since the two had officially met in person while he had been in America. Back then, she'd been 17 to his 15, owning an American driver's license and a tattoo sleeve that left many of the older members of society scandalized.

"I don't think she's going to take being younger than us well," Yuzuriha mentions as she finishes up sewing the outfit she'd made for (Y/n). She worked fast, wiping the sweat that had accumulated on her forehead once she finished. She takes a step back once she's finished, watching as Senku steps forward, "Especially when she finds out how long it took for you to bring her back."

"She'll be fine. I'm 1 billion percent sure she's going to be grateful for it," He responds, popping the top off the tiny vial between his fingers. He doesn't stop the grin from spreading across his face as he lets the contents of the vial drip from the top of her head. The two watch expectedly as it eases its way down her body, stone cracking and parting in its wake, “She’s going to get to visit home, after all.”

The stone falls from her body, the life slowly coming back into her (e/c) orbs as more of her skin is revealed. Her tattooed sleeve remains, now accompanied by the petrification markings on her face and other parts of her body. A wave of confusion hits her as she takes in the unfamiliar surroundings, but her shoulders relax a little as she takes in the two familiar figures next to her, "Senku...? Yuzuriha...?" "Hey, (Y/n)," He immediately greets in response, an excited light coming to his eyes as ruby meets (e/c), "Looks like we're the same age now."

Yuzuriha flinches at his greeting, sighing with a shake of her head as she takes a small step closer to their friend. A nervous smile forms on her lips as she takes (Y/n) hands into her own, leading her out of the hidden away area into the light of the new world. She feels the grip tighten as (e/c) eyes dart around the surrounding forestry in an attempt to better understand the circumstances and environment, "We have a lot to catch you up on, but I'm sure if we ease you in slowly it won't cause you too much whiplash-"

"We don't have time for that, Yuzuriha. We still have to load the ship back up and travel to America," Senku waves the notion off, walking past the two of them and leading them back into the village. Neither of the girls miss the smirk on his face as he continues, unmoving as they gape at him like fish, "(Y/n) will catch up along the way."

He's bluffing, which they realize a little later when Ryusui recounts the plan to spend the next few days loading the ship and replacing the items they used on their last voyage. (Y/n) is assimilated faster into their new society than she can process, the rest of their group taking the basic information they're fed and working with it. Yuzuriha is eventually forced to leave her to fend for her own after a bit to attend to her own assignments and Taiju only stops to catch up for a bit (which is mostly him speed talking and making assumptions about how much she's been made aware of) before continuing to move along.

Senku doubts he'll ever admit it out loud, but he is grateful that they're the same age, even if he's technically older by a few months now. Standing next to (Y/n), who hadn't aged a day past the last time he'd seen her, was the reassurance he secretly needed about his own development. While his growth spurt, a result of the final pushes of puberty during the Stone Wars and roughing it during the New Stone Age, was the only difference he could notice next to her, (Y/n) had been hit with the whiplash of every other development.

To her, it felt like both a lifetime and a long night since she had seen Senku, yet he looked almost completely different and exactly the same. The remainder of his baby fat had rounded out of his cheeks, his face maturing nicely into that of a young adult, and he'd sprung up quite a bit in height. He was still lithe in comparison to Taiju, till thin and very much not built for too much physical labor, but he'd gotten a bit of meat on his bones to fill his arms out a little more. Despite that, he still looked like him, like the jerky boy she'd met by chance in middle school who would be the first person she'd show her newest tattoos to when she was 16 to get some kind of rise out of him.

Taiju and Yuzuriha were a further reminder of the weird passage of time, the two more developed in their own rights. He was beefier, still ever-muscular in a more defined way. His hands seemed rougher, but she didn't know if that had been due to the rougher circumstances or if they were always meant to get so rough with all the handy work Senku would put him up to. Yuzuriha had filled out a little, a few scars littering her hands from what (Y/n) could only assume was from her thread work she'd seem to consistently be working on since they'd gotten back to their stronghold. Her silky brown hair, which had once reached her waist and made a few of the girls from their school envious of its length, now barely reached past her shoulders in its bobbed shape.

She feels so out of place...

~~~~

The rush of information coming to people’s senses is always amusing to watch, but (Y/n) is taking a little more time to process than usual. Even now, a few days into her now being free from the stone prison, she still has more questions. They aren’t particularly scientific, more so just random observations that she really wants the answers to. She’s also hyper-analyzed the villagers' speech patterns, having them repeat their newer slang and pronounce random words in Japanese, English, and German (something they did not realize they were fluent in until she came around). In return, they ask her questions about the past (mostly Senku, Yuzuriha, and Taiju), the sleeve on her arm, and why the hell she knows so many languages already.

Senku can’t really be mad about it slowly down progress, he’s sure he’d slack off a little too if they didn’t have so little time to prepare for their trip across the sea. Neither of them miss the way their eyes longingly stare at one another, meeting a few times before either is dragged away by the others they’re surrounded by. It’s even worse that (Y/n) feels she hasn’t been able to get any time alone with him since they made it to the village. She’d been made aware of their plans once her confusion died down a little, even taking the time to freshen up on the main languages she’d be focused on for their trip and doing what she can to pitch in. Unfortunately, their different preparations would barely, if ever, cross over. Lowkey, it had been killing both of them inside, but they kept up appearances for the sake of getting things done.

She’d learned from Gen, who gave her brain a break by speaking in English with her, that Senku had kept her relatively well hidden. He’d visit her often, but no one had put together that’s what he’d been doing until now. Yuzuriha made it clear she’d only learned of (Y/n)’s whereabouts a little before they’d revived her. However, the brown-haired girl did mention that a few passing statements he’d made in the past were starting to make sense.

It took the last night before the Kingdom of Science would set sail again for (Y/n) to find time away from the others. Despite the various discussions scratching her brain in the best way possible in a new world, the dark blue of the night accompanied by the low noises of crickets and crashing waves gives her the solace she needs. While everything has mostly settled, or settled as much as it can, it's still moving so fast. To her, everything was normal yesterday and then dark for longer than she thinks possible to comprehend, "Maybe this is how Sleeping Beauty felt..."

"I doubt that," A familiar voice speaks up from behind her, the heels of his shoes clopping along the ground as he approaches. The gravel scrunches as he shifts to sit next to her, deep zircon-colored eyes staring out towards the ocean's expanse. He scoots a little closer to her, his head tilting as his pinky reflexively reaches to dig out of his ear, "Considering she typically is depicted to have been a young preteen when she first fell asleep and an older teenager when she wakes, I doubt there were many technological changes to throw her for such a loop, especially if the story takes place in a fictional version of the middle ages."

His eyes shift to peak at her instead, his typical grin filing onto his face. Somehow, they're one of his few features to remain the same despite his growing age. He's one of the reasons she's out here tonight, gathering her thoughts privately one last time so she can tuck them away to focus her attention more on to returning civilization.

Of course, she always thought he was good-looking, most people did. However, where they were turned off by his passion for science and technical engineering, she found it to be all the more endearing for his character. He had his pesty moments, but so did everyone else in some way. It added to his charm, "Didn't see you as the fables type, Senku."

"Had a friend who was super into literature. She read it in different languages to challenge herself," He teases in response, his gaze turning back to the sight before them, "Wonder where she is now..."

(Y/n) tugs her knees up to her chest, the irony of the comparison not lost on her, though made completely on accident. She pulls them closer, resting her cheek on them as she takes in the boy next to her, "Maybe she's trapped somewhere in a stone prison back in the woods."

She watches his chest rumble with his chuckle, a soft breeze picking up and spreading the smell of salt water. He's closer now, the smaller changes staring her in the face and taunting her. She'd wanted him this close to her again, just for the reassurance, but now... She kind of regrets it.

"I would've found her by now," He mumbles, the sound just barely reaching her ears. A fond smile slowly eases across his mouth as he returns his gaze to her, "Would've taken me a while to finally see her like this again, but I think it'd finally be worth seeing her again. Even with the circumstances."

"I'm sure she'd be grateful to see you again too, even with the circumstances."

[myokk]

Sebastian had a few days leave from duty so he visited Eloise😇😇

[communistkenobi]

actually one thing that has been very elucidating while reading academic scholarship on anti-vaxx movements post-Covid is that a lot of seemingly “apolitical” or non-fascist participation in anti-vaxx and vaccine skeptical protests/demonstrations/social media activity is the result of decades of neoliberal governance - everyone is a ‘critical consumer citizen,’ a subjectivity that produces a public who is deeply invested in ‘shopping for alternatives’ and ‘getting the best deal,’ meaning that mass vaccination programs and mandates, even when universal and socialised, are viewed with suspicion by the public. These people are then primed to listen to the fascists who lurk among these movements, even if they’re a minority. I think one of the larger, more devastating takeaways of the pandemic is that our current situation in North America - low vaccination rates, high infection rates, lots of Covid variants - is the direct result of decades-long neoliberal projects to gut public infrastructure and turn everything into a privatised consumer product. Public goods like universal vaccination programs are therefore seen not as such but as authoritarian, anti-competitive disruptions of a free and open marketplace. To call it a PR disaster would be massively underselling it, but the public appears to have disappeared, replaced instead with an infinite mass of individuals in a market who all have to come to their own decisions about every aspect of their life, even at the cost of everyone around them. what a miserable place we’re in

[spitefulfemme]

when i am upset i think about how one day i will be getting soothed to sleep by a pretty girl/person i'll get to call my girlfriend/partner in a cozy apartment that we've made a home out of and that is enough for me to fall asleep to.

- this post was made by a minor, mdni accs dni!

[granolagaeilgeoir]

This is an oddly specific thing, but learning more about the culture war that took place in Poland where JPII + others resisted the Nazis and the Soviets by keeping Polish literature, language, and faith alive motivates me to continue pursuing the Irish language. Keeping Gaeilge alive is not a pointless pastime but a continued resistance to the destruction and Anglicisation of Irish culture. And, given that that culture is deeply rooted in the Church, I firmly believe it will be an instrumental way to keep the Catholic faith alive in the nation where she flourished so beautifully for hundreds of years. Gaeilge go brách, a chairde.

[9ofspades]

Opinion:  I'm an Anti-Specsser and Everyone Else Should Be Too

Why are you wearing glasses?  

No, seriously.   Why the fuck are you still wearing glasses?  

The epidemic is over.  I don't know anyone who worries about nearsightedness anymore.  Do you hear anyone talking about it?  Do you see nearsightedness germs flying around?  No, because it's OVER.  

Look, I don't know how to break it to you, but a thin piece of glass in front of your eyes isn't going to help protect you from macular degeneration.  It's a false sense of security, an illusion; like if you just keep looking through them you can pretend that the world has crisp sharp edges.  Well, guess what?  The world is blurry.  You don't know where empty space ends and your body begins.  In fact, it doesn't.  Your body is mostly empty space.  

Everything happens for a reason, anyway; so if you get into an accident because you can't drive without your glasses?  Tough cajones; take your punishment like God intended.  It's your fault for having bad genes, which you got because of... original sin, or something.  I don't know, I didn't actually read the Bible.  I just believe vehemently in every word of it, except the words you use to disagree with me.  Because that's wrong.  

I don't think I'm doing anything wrong by yelling at glasses-wearers on the street.  It just fills me with such visceral, incandescent rage when I see a pair of pince-nez balancing on someone's nose.  It's like they're sending a direct fuck-you to people like me, who choose not to wear glasses.  So of course I have to yell at them; it's just simple self-preservation - if I don't, pretty soon everyone will be wearing glasses, and ganging up on those of us that don't, because we're "jeopardizing public safety" or "a danger to the common good."  I don't need to listen to that.

When you declare you're on the opposite side from me with that flag you wear right on your face, you shouldn't be surprised when I treat you like an enemy.  "What sides?" you ask?  "There's no 'sides' here; everyone is just choosing-" oh, shut up.  You're so naive.  Of course there are sides.  There's sides to everything.  What about a circle? you say.  Inside and outside.  There.  Now don't you feel stupid.  

And those circles you wear on your face mark you as being on the inside.  I don't like that.  Nobody likes being left on the outside.  So stop wearing them.  That way I can find something else to be angry about, like freckles.  I think I'll take on freckles next.  If you have them, stop having them.  You're being too different from me and I don't like it.

[mrs-gauche]

...and also the only time that Solas of all people, is completely speechless, for once at a loss for words in response to an irrefutable argument.

Throughout the whole game (with a few exceptions in which he actually admits to having misjudged), whenever you get the chance to debate him on something you do not agree on, Solas, Mr “I’m a trillion years old, you know nothing, so listen carefully” will practically verbally jiu-jitsu you for every possible argument you might have, like, he’s an absolute master at playing Ace Attorney refuting any of your points, much like playing mind chess with Iron Bull, there is no chance to win an argument with Solas if he’s determined to have you recognize the flaw in your logic or at least understand his perspective, making you feel like this gif at the end of every debate.

But when Lavellan says “I would have had you trust me”, finally, there is no counter argument, no clever comeback, no objection... He has nothing. Because Lavellan is right and he knows. There’s just silence until he turns around and continues with the rest of the dialogue. And I think it’s interesting how this is kinda the culmination of all the little hints throughout the whole game at his ingrained distrust, leading up to this moment.

“An enemy can attack you, but only an ally can betray you. Betrayal is always worse.”

"The next time you have to mourn, you don't need to be alone." “It’s been so long since I could trust someone.”

“That’s when you should lean on your friends.” “Apologies, Inquisitor. I have learned not to do that.”

“I’ll rely on those I trust.” "You think to share your power, to avoid the temptation to misuse it. A noble sentiment... but, ultimately, a mistake." (...) "Because while one selfless man may walk away from the lure of power's corruption... no group has ever done so."

“You created a powerful organization, and now it suffers the inevitable fate of such. Betrayal and corruption.”

"I trust my friends." "I know that mistake well enough to carve the angles of her face from memory."

“She was betrayed as I was betrayed. As the world was betrayed!” - Flemeth about Mythal

You get the sense that him witnessing Mythal being betrayed and murdered by the Evanuris was probably the catalyst for his immense trust issues, so much so that it still has that big of an impact on him centuries later. And of course it has, when 1) it was this batrayal and power corruption that set everything in motion, it almost lead to the end of the entire world, which in turn lead to the creation of the Veil and finally the loss of his world and his people, 2) he has spent the last 1000 years walking the Fade, having to look at the ever present Black City in its center - their prison - as a constant reminder of what happened. (I know it’s not confirmed yet, but come on! 😂)

And then there is Lavellan (or any high approval Inquisitor for that matter) at the end of all this. Who proved him wrong with every action throughout DAI. Who has shown wisdom in their decisions and that the power they were given mustn’t corrupt them. That there is no reason for him not to trust them. And yet, he simply can’t, because the past still haunts him and centuries of history have taught him otherwise (and like a bunch of other reasons for him to not tell Lavellan the truth in that moment in Crestwood, but that’s beside the point here lol). 

And then at the end of Trespasser, Lavellan finally throws it straight to his face, and while he could pull any of the excuses listed above, he simply can’t refute them anymore. Look at his expression as he just looks at them in response, at first still frowning for a second, as if he’s still about to argue them again, but then suddenly shifting into sorrow, slightly shaking his head in defeat. “I got nothing.” Solas, who easily managed to own you in any debate prior to this, is all out of arguments. It’s the final argument and the Inquisitor won.

(Well, technically, it even happens twice in this final conversation, if we’re counting Solas’ internal debate with himself. lol)

"We aren't even people to you." "Not at first. You showed me that I was wrong."

But going back to his distrust, it surely can’t be a coincidence that this whole issue was also topic in a recent interview with DA4′s Creative Director, talking about what defines a hero.

I’ve talked about this numerous times now, like here, here or here, but what it all comes down to is basically just one more penny for the “Solas needs to learn how to trust again in order to be saved from himself” jar. lol

“We will save our friend from himself… if we can.”

Like. It’s literally his name. Pride. Saving Solas from himself does quite literally mean to strip him off his name and the belief that, to quote John Epler again, “only he has the answers, that he is the only one who can solve this” and to accept the help of others. Which is why he has to get a new name by the end of all this. I’m dying on that hill. 😂

[adallegra]

Uhm, hello. You- You wouldn't happen to know anything about random booping occurrences, would you?

Stay alert.

[landwriter]

sure sure i could fall asleep OR i could lie awake in bed tortured by the concept of hapax legomenon in the written record of a non-modern language as either a historic testament to the unexpressible demanding invention or as a lonely monument to a once-spoken word that we otherwise would not have even known once existed at all

[buriedwithoutceremony]

Sometimes The Sorrows feel like an inescapable morass, withered and inimical to life, but you just have to grab a machete and start moving and chopping and worry about all of that later.

[lolajames]

Please go read my latest essay 'Notes from a sentimental girl', a collection of thoughts on writing, sentimentality, grief and language ❤️ its been so long since I published anything, so I'm super excited to share this with you. 

Image of Anna Karina from Pierrot le Fou (1965) dir. Jean-Luc Godard

[amplexadversary]

I do think an ideal translation team would need to have at least three people, and only two of them absolutely *must* speak both languages.

You need someone who's better at the original language but speaks the target language (to identify subtleties and cultural references), you need someone who is better at the target language but speaks the original (to make sure the initial translation makes sense), and you need a proofreader who has some expertise in prose in the target language (to make sure the concerns of the first two are being met in the final draft, and determine if there are any cases where a better-fitting word in the target language fits for words with multiple definitions)

and all three of these people need to be in some kind of communication with each other, back and forth until all parties can come to some consensus.