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kookyburrowing · 4 months ago

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Different Languages AU Part 1: Wait, Fuck, They Don't Speak Basic?

First things first motherfuckers, let’s get one thing straight: Basic as a language does exist in this AU! It’s just less common outside of the Core/Mid Rim. SO. What does that give us? Well, it gives us way more interesting conflict, for one thing, and for another, so many languages. Let’s get crackalackin!

In the Outer Rim, Huttese is largely The Language To Speak. If you don’t speak Huttese, you might as well just hurl yourself into the nearest bottomless pit now and save yourself the time and trouble. Even in the Core and Mid Rim, Huttese is a very common language just because of how useful it is if you ever find yourself in the Outer Rim. Most bounty hunters (i.e. Jango Fett, just for one completely random example) speak Huttese fluently, alongside their native languages. Naturally, then, this is a language Anakin is very familiar with. In fact, when he became a Jedi, it was the language he knew the best, and most people thought his speech was stilted in Basic because of this. He spoke Basic maybe once every month on Tatooine—can you blame him?

In the Mid Rim, each planet has their own language and conversations between diplomats are typically done as they are on Earth—via interpreters, to avoid any misunderstandings. Padmé, for instance, does speak Basic, but that is the language she would use in the Senate, not on Naboo. The same goes for Palpatine, but we’ll get to him in a minute, because he sucks and I want to not talk about him for as long as I feasibly can.

The Core means Basic, Basic, Basic, because of just the sheer number of people making it necessary. Coruscant is a weird case because of how communities develop there. Since it’s kind of like a gigantic version of a modern city (I’ll use NYC as an example because I know it the best), it’s broken up into enclaves. Cultures clump—it’s a thing. Some neighborhoods in NYC are predominantly Jewish, some are predominantly Italian, the list goes on. The same goes for Coruscant, although on a supersized scale. There’s some areas where non-Mandalorians need not apply, some where everyone is a Twi’lek or Togruta, some where everyone is a Mirialan, et cetera. Also, Coruscant dialects of certain languages are very much a thing.

Anyway. Let’s talk Kamino, because that’s why I started this to begin with!

Jango Fett is a Mandalorian. He’s also a bounty hunter. He’s from Concord Dawn and was a True Mandalorian. Therefore we can guess he probably at the bare minimum speaks two dialects of Mando’a (Concord Dawn, True Mandalorian) Huttese, and has at least passing Basic. He probably speaks more than that given how well-traveled he is, but those are the ones I can name for sure. So Jango Fett, who speaks Mando’a and Huttese and Basic, encounters Count Dooku. Count Dooku is from Serenno, but he was also a Jedi, so he probably speaks Serennese, Basic, Huttese, and a few more. He may even speak Mando’a, but his dialects wouldn’t be likely to overlap with Jango’s. Count Dooku tells Jango to go to Kamino and let them clone him in exchange for an exorbitant amount of money. Jango does, because Jango is a thinking human being and thinking human beings under capitalism do not turn down exorbitant amounts of money in exchange for what amounts to (at most) being a three or four-time sperm donor.

And on Kamino, our intrepid Mandalorian encounters something a bit weird. The Kaminoans, being that they are an extremely isolated species and thus have absolutely no reason to have developed humanoid vocal chords, have to rely on droid translators. Cool! This means Jango can speak to them exclusively in his native language (Concord Dawn Mando’a), and they can speka to him exclusively in theirs, and everyone’s largely happy. Jango negotiates the finer points of the contract, acquires an infant who he names Boba, and calls up some old friends (and acquaintances) to teach the clones to kick ass. He informs them they don’t have to worry about speaking Basic, so they don’t bother speaking Basic.

Thus, we have our setup. The Kaminoans have no reason to make the clones speak Basic because literally none of these outsiders are bothering to inform that oh yeah there’s this whole common language thing going on, and said outsiders have no reason whatsoever to tell them because it would ultimately just be an inconvenience. They’ve got a good thing going, and Jedi are required to speak more than one language anyway. The clones can definitely find at least one in common!

So the clones learn to speak Mando’a, understand Kaminoan, and speak and/or understand one extra elective language. Most pick something weird because they can—everyone around them speaks either Mando’a or Kaminoan so why would they bother with languages they don’t care about, like Basic? Unfortunately for the Kaminoans and the trainers in equal measure, they do also realize that in order to express themselves in private they need their own universal language, so they acquire one. They just call it clonespeak to keep things simple, and for most of them, that’s their native language. They feel most comfortable speaking in it because that’s the language they associate with safety and with their siblings/parents.

Thus: the predicament.

Obi-Wan arrives on Kamino. Obi-Wan is a Jedi. Obi-Wan speaks Basic.

Uh-oh. See, Jango is out of practice—the Kaminoans can’t make those noises. Boba’s language skills begin and end with Mando’a and some random bits of clonespeak right now—he’s kind of conversational with Huttese but every once in a while he just throws in a Mando’a word or an idiom in clonespeak and Jango has to take a minute to breathe lest he slam his head straight through the wall in frustration because he doesn’t understand clonespeak. And so much performing of charades, many awkward moments, and exactly one sentence in Basic later, Obi-Wan is heading back to Coruscant with several questions.

First: why the fuck did Sifo-Dyas order an army who didn’t speak Basic? No one knows. No one can find any records of this order, for one thing. No one knows who Tyrannus is, for another.

And second: what languages do the clones speak? Obviously, Mando’a is amongst them, but Jango’s extremely intensely staring son also spoke another, infinitely weird language and no one can find any record of it, and not even Jango seemed to understand him. Do they understand the Kaminoans’ clicking noises? Are they just mute? Is it constantly Shut The Fuck Up Friday up in there? What is going on?

The Council loses their collective minds. Shaak Ti is about ready to haul ass across the galaxy to collect these poor, lost young men—Plo Koon is right there with her. Yoda is—well, Yoda is swearing loudly in several dead languages right now. Mace Windu, ever the voice of reason, just has one thing to say: how about they meet the clones, first. Before they panic.

In the face of this intense, all-consuming, glorious sensibility, the Council collectively shuts the fuck up. They decide to let things run their course.

And then Geonosis. Quickly, Yoda collects several hundred clones, manages to communicate to one of them—who speaks a really weird, ancient, and fucked up dialect of Basic that could basically scan to Elizabethan English, and whose name is probably Kowalski—what he needs, and that one tells an older, larger and more intimidating one. Then that one yells a lot in a language Yoda has never heard before, and several hundred clones are suddenly hauling ass into gunships.

Enter one Anakin Skywalker and one Padmé Amidala, who are about to acquire some friends, none of whom understand a word they’re saying. They fuck some things up, get strapped to some poles to be devoured by Space Beasts of some sort, and then escape.

Battle of Geonosis happens. Mace Windu quickly discovers that the answer to the question what do the clones speak is effectively every language except Basic, and the answer is also supremely inconsistent. He is Suffering. He is Experiencing The Horrors. Obi-Wan is likewise fighting for his life because he speaks a fancy-ass dialect of Mando’a that the clones don’t understand. This is because they, like normal people, don’t talk like dignitaries on diplomatic missions.

Moving on! Obi-Wan gets assigned Alpha-17. Alpha-17 is a demon. Actually. He probably speaks Basic but refuses to out of spite. This is the biggest asshole to ever stomp his way into a Venator and terrify Anakin Skywalker into cowering submission. (He may even be why Anakin behaved like that as Vader. We will never know!) Like most clones, Alpha-17 speaks four languages. Clonespeak, Mando’a, Kaminoan, and Huttese. In that order. So he has no real trouble communicating with either Anakin or Obi-Wan.

What he does have, though, is a surplus of kids. Like it or not (he insists he doesn’t) they are his kids, and he wants them to have a shot at having a moderately tolerable existence. Enter everyone’s favorite group of six weirdos: Wolffe, Ponds, Fox, Bly, Cody, and Rex.

Wolffe is easy. He’s horrible with languages, and so gets sent to Plo Koon, who speaks through a translator anyway. Add Mando’a to the translator, and bang! Easy. Done. They understand each other perfectly.

Ponds is also easy. He, being sensible, learned Basic, so he goes to Mace Windu, who is equally sensible (and grateful for the easy transition).

Fox, who is a scheming little shit and also just so happens to speak Naboo, get sent to Coruscant. The Chancellor can’t get one over on him if Fox can understand every word he says, and most Senators have protocol droids with them for translation anyway.

Bly speaks Ryll, so she gets Aayla Secura. Again, easy.

Cody, on the other hand? Cody speaks the same languages as 17. Cody has a favorite younger brother who needs guidance. Cody, therefore, gets deposited with Obi-Wan, and Rex? Rex gets Anakin.

But the issue with Rex is he and Anakin have no language in common. Rex’s elective language was Togruti, and like the rest of his batch he also speaks Tusken sign. Because his batch are a bunch of assholes who wanted an extremely private way to talk.

So. Anakin and Rex start off the war with no way to communicate! None! Literally not one language in common!

And they do try to communicate—via charades, via text, et cetera—but they don’t really have access to translation software on a regular basis and thus things become complicated.

Things are made even more complicated by the fact that Rex, like Wolffe, is shit at language learning. Anakin, who isn’t, could try to learn clonespeak, and does! But when you can’t communicate with the person teaching you it is immensely slow going.

And thus, our premise is complete. How do you run a war with someone you can’t talk to?

Well, it depends. If you’re Anakin, you say, maybe I can figure a way around this.

If you’re Pong Krell?

I dunno man. Yell? Yeah, that sounds about right.

#hahaha #heeeeere's nonsense!#lee writes #different languages au #star wars #tcw #jango fett #obi-wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #alpha-17 #commander cody #captain rex

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serpentface · 4 days ago

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maybe the most difficult worldbuilding question of all, what are some popular jokes in your setting? what about ones based on the vocabulary you have established so far, but which just don't translate to english?

I only have one thing established that is purely a Joke that isn't translatable to english-

A lot of Wardi dick jokes revolve partially around this animal, the long-suffering hippegalga

The name 'hippegalga' means 'little horn'.

Hippe/hippi is a somewhat antiquated word for 'small/little', in contemporary dialect it's still recognizable as having connotations of 'small' but isn't commonly used in actual vocabulary (you'll find it more often in names). Galga was originally one of several words for 'horn', in this case broadly pertaining to the horns of antelope ('meti' is the most generalized word for animal horns, while specific animal groups (antelope, khait and cattle) have their own horn words.

Hippegalga horns are considered to be notably phallic among all animal horns (big male hippegalga tend to have horns approximately the size of an average human penis) and are ascribed beneficial qualities for male development and fertility (taken powdered as medicine and/or worn) while also serving the non-sexual functions of a general phallus when worn as an amulet.

The word 'galga' or its shortened 'gal' tends to be used on its own specifically for this animal's horn (ie: if you're describing a hippegalga's horn, you just say 'galga' instead of 'hippegalga galga', while if you were describing another antelope's horn you Would say '[antelopes name] galga'). Because of this, the word has greatly absorbed the animal's phallic connotations while still retaining the meaning 'horn'. As such, galga/gal has earned additional meaning as euphemistic slang for 'penis' in common dialect.

The name 'hippegalga', which once had absolutely no penis connotations, now sounds to most Wardi speakers like you're saying 'small penis'. It's like if in english there was a very common, well-known backyard bird called the 'little cock'. You'd know damn well that it's not Supposed to mean 'little penis', you'd know that the bird was probably named before 'cock' became more commonly used as penis slang than a word for 'male bird', but it sure is a funny name.

What's more, hippegalga are VERY common wild animals that adapt well to urban environments (they're basically as ubiquitous to urban areas as squirrels) and are very tameable and kept as pets. Their ubiquity and familiarity makes them very fertile ground for dick jokes and innuendo.

So you'll see 'hippegalga' used as a basic slang term for 'small penis' (ie: "I saw his hippegalga the other day"), or used in more complex ways in comedic plays/poetry/etc as a euphemism IE:

"he left to tend to his hippegalga" - innocently meaning "he left to feed his pet antelope" while strongly implying "he went off to crank his (notably small, which is funny) dick" "she was disappointed to find a herd of hippegalga waiting at her door" - innocently meaning "she was annoyed that a herd of little antelopes were blocking her doorway", and depending on the context could imply something like "she found a bunch of disappointing, impotent male suitors lurking around her doorway" or "she's having sex with several men and is disappointed to find their dicks are small"

(TANGENT: average sized penises are culturally considered ideal, with notably large penises implying an outsized libido and un-masculine lack of self control, and notably small penises implying sexual impotence and general weakness. It tends to be assumed that if a woman has an outsized libido she will be interested in men with larger penises)

Gal(ga) as euphemistic slang for penis plays into the name of gannegal soup, which is a dish that contains bull penis as one of its ingredients. 'Gannegal' is effectively a double entendre. You're not saying 'ox penis' soup (that would be 'ganne gemane'), the dead literal translation of gannegal IS 'ox horn'. But this is not the Naturalistic way you would say 'ox horn' either, because 'gal(ga)' is not used for the horns of cattle (you would say 'gannemitla' or just 'mitla'). So like to a Wardi listener the name 'gannegal' is politely saying 'ox horn' while heavily implying its contents of bull penis.

"Gal(ga)" as both a word for horn and slang term for penis has a lot of other applications in jokes/puns/euphemisms.

I don't have the words established for the full Wardi language version, but a phrase that translates to "a hawk carrying a bull by the horns" (using 'galga' instead of the naturalistic 'gannemitla') is used to describe a woman as sexually domineering, or to describe a couple being consisted of a conniving sexually controlling woman and a weak-willed libidinous man. The imagery is a small predatory bird controlling a physically superior, powerful animal, and implying via 'galga' that the control is sexual in nature. It's usage is Kind Of similar to 'henpecked husband' in implying a man as weak and overly controlled by his wife (with acutely misogynistic undertones that he's a failure in that he should clearly be the dominant party instead), just with an explicitly sexual layer.

There's also variants like "he's a bull led by his horns" as something you might say about a superficially powerful man that you're implying is mentally weak (the galga euphemism implies this mental weakness is specifically lack of sexual control, but this phrase is sometimes used in more generalized contexts).

---

This one's less of a joke per se, but "digging out the viper" "digging out the viper's tail" "digging out the tail" is a saying that describes something as a high effort and utterly futile exercise, a doomed vanity project, etc.

This refers to the Viper seaway, which is named for its fat snakelike shape. The 'tail' of the Viper dead-ends about 50 miles away from the actual ocean, which makes this sea ultimately unimportant in the larger sea trade system (you don't have to enter its waters at all to get to any major trade hubs). However, it would become EXTREMELY important to sea trade if someone managed to dig a canal between the Viper's 'tail' and the eastern sea.

This would be very difficult- a lot of the terrain is rocky and hilly (the actual canal might have to be closer to 70 miles long AT MINIMUM to work around the terrain). The people who actually live on this land (mostly Ubiyan pastoralists) are not heavily involved in the sea trade system, and most of their communities have never particularly wanted foreigners digging a huge fucking canal through their lands and building up a sea trade hub around it.

So, there have been at least two major historical attempts to dig the canal, both of which failed. One was through a strained alliance of Royal Dain kingdoms, and one was an attempt by Imperial Bur at its height (in which it controlled all the coasts on the south end of the Viper, among other places). Both failed spectacularly, due to a combination of logistical issues (the sheer scale of manpower needed, feeding this manpower, and sustaining the endeavor), internal political disagreement on the projects viability, and organized reprisals from the Ubiyan population. As it stands, the attempted canal exists as about 20 miles of shallow ditches, heavily eroded and washed out by rain.

The idea of digging out the canal now tends to be regarded as a spectacular and utterly futile act of hubris, to the point that variants of "digging out the Viper" as an expression of futility exist in Wardi, Burri, Dain, Finn, and Ubiyan languages.

The saying itself isn't quite a joke, but can very easily be Used in jokes and wordplay: IE in a play where the stock Arrogant Idiot character excitedly goes off to fight a group of bandits singlehandedly, you could see an exchange between other characters like "What did he say he was going to do?" "He said he has to go dig out a viper's tail" (which would not be regarded as uproariously funny but would probably elicit a chuckle from the audience).

This saying also lends itself to more sexual wordplay in that one partly antiquated word for tail (cunna) is now mostly used as slang for anus (though is still Recognizable as having meaning as an animals tail). (Kind of like in american english how most people Know the word 'ass' has meant 'donkey' for most of its history, but you don't often see it used as such).

The related word 'cunnari' stems from it (this is untranslatable, it dead literally means 'anus person') and is used to describe someone as passive in anal sex. This is Extremely insulting to use on a man (probably the closest approximation to 'faggot' in this language, though with different connotations) and degrading even when not.

A man (at least rhetorically) threatening to sexually penetrate another man is kind of like saying "I'll make you my bitch". So you might see variants on "digging out the viper's tail" which use the word 'cunna' for tail to mock an instance of this alpha male type declaration. IE: in the context of a play, this type of threat might be responded with a "ha, good luck digging out my tail" (your threats are laughably futile) or a more elaborate sort of "do I look like a viper to you? I can see why the likes of you is so interested in my tail" (you must be fucking stupid, you're the type to engage in hopeless endeavors of vanity). Etc.

On the other way around you might see 'cunnari' slipped into reversals of 'digging out the tail', ie: "he'll have no troubles digging out that cunnari", "If only the Viper was a cunnari, he'd have spread his tail wide open and saved Old Bur all its trouble". Etc

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grishaverse-chaos · 3 months ago

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okay SO. it took longer than I expected for various life reasons but here is the massive conlang masterpost, featuring all the languages and prominent dialects that I imagine would exist within the grishaverse. under a cut bc it got really long!

RAVKA

"standard" Ravkan. this is the language spoken in Os Alta, as well as most other places in East Ravka. used on any official documents within Ravka. spoken by most nobility, including those in West Ravka

West Ravkan. this dialect formed only after the creation of the Fold - because the two sides of the country were separated from each other, linguistic drift occurred. over the 400 years that the Fold existed, the two languages diverged from each other significantly, but are still mutually intelligible - they're still very clearly dialects of the same language, not separate languages altogether. most West Ravkan nobility don't use this dialect, although those who are in favour of West Ravka becoming an independent country WILL use this dialect to promote independence. many West Ravkans also speak "standard" Ravkan, because of military service; they would have to communicate with people from across the country - however, many of them would still speak West Ravkan at home, with family, etc. most East Ravkans, especially nobility, wouldn't speak West Ravkan and would probably look down on those who do; I imagine Nikolai speaks at least some because it's the kind of thing he'd do (and the place he's Grand Duke of, Udova, is in West Ravka)

Suli. definitely a completely separate language from Ravkan; they don't have much in common. spoken predominantly by travelling Suli, and very rarely by non-Suli - although in canon, it is taught at the Little Palace, and some Grisha will learn the language. diplomats who often have dealings with Suli communities, and soldiers who serve in areas with high Suli populations, will often learn some (though probably not enough to become fluent) - canon states that it's useful for travelling in the west and northwest of Ravka.

Suli/Ravkan dialect. in areas with high Suli populations (predominantly in the west and northwest), locals may have adopted parts of the Suli language, and vice versa, to create a pidgin language that can be understood by both groups. probably NOT spoken by soldiers/diplomats/etc, who prefer to learn the original Suli language

various other dialects! while the most significant difference is between "standard" and West Ravkan, small towns and communities across the country will speak slightly different versions of the language, just because of how big Ravka is

ancient Ravkan. this is briefly mentioned in canon - I imagine it bears a similar relationship to modern Ravkan as that between Old English and modern English; ie, it's a completely different language! very old books that were printed in ancient Ravkan probably still exist; I imagine it's spoken by some members of the clergy, similar to how the Catholic Church uses Latin in our world. often studied by historians or other scholars. iirc Mal's tattoo is also written in ancient Ravkan, which means that either he or somebody around him must have spoken it fairly well. I would guess that Tamar and Tolya probably speak at least some ancient Ravkan because they grew up in the church

FJERDA

"standard" Fjerdan. again, spoken in Djerholm, by the military and by the government. fun canon facts I found while researching for this: all nouns are both plural and singular (similar to English words like "fish") and the language has three grammatical genders, but they are called wolf class, hare class, and tooth class!

Hedjut. the Hedjut, in canon, are an indigenous group living on Kenst Hjerte, a pair of islands off the coast of Fjerda. though some have come to live on the mainland (I believe Ylva, Jarl Brum's wife, is Hedjut?) most still live on the islands and speak their own language, separate from Fjerdan

liturgical Fjerdan. religion plays a huge part in Fjerdan culture, and imo their holy texts would have been written in this liturgical version of the language, many centuries before canon takes place. drüskelle are probably taught liturgical Fjerdan. some people might also prefer to pray to Djel in liturgical Fjerdan? speakers of modern Fjerdan can probably understand it, but with some effort

again, multiple other dialects. Fjerda has a lot of peninsulas; the language would have developed differently in different places. when Nina is in the Elling peninsula in KoS, she probably has to speak the local dialect rather than the "standard" Fjerdan which she probably learnt in training

other indigenous languages. now, this is purely conjecture, but the grishaverse map shows other small islands off the coast of Fjerda, which don't seem to be part of Kenst Hjerte. it's entirely possible that there's other indigenous groups, like the Hedjut, living there, with their own separate languages. on the other hand, in an age of sea travel, it's likely that Fjerda would have colonised those islands and brought them into the larger country, meaning that the groups living there would be classed as Fjerdans and encouraged to speak Fjerdan

KERCH

"standard" Kerch. this one is so interesting because Kerch is canonically the language used for international trade, so diplomats and politicians across the grishaverse would likely be able to speak Kerch. knowing the language is probably also a sign of status in other countries, including Ravka. it's spoken by most people within Kerch, as well as being the language used for any kind of international relations. for example, I imagine that at the summit at the end of Rule of Wolves, both the Ravkan and Fjerdan delegations spoke Kerch

Barrel Kerch. has a similar relationship to "standard" Kerch as Cockney does to "standard" English - they're recognisably the same language, though spoken with very different accents, but Barrel Kerch has created so much new vocabulary that doesn't exist in "standard" Kerch. I also think that this is why Wylan didn't recognise the word "mark" in Six of Crows - it simply didn't exist in the version of Kerch he's used to speaking!

other dialects. Kerch is much smaller than Ravka or Fjerda, so I imagine there's fewer separate dialects, but people living in the Kerch countryside probably speak a slightly non-"standard" version of Kerch. Kaz probably grew up speaking a country dialect, and had to adjust when he started living in Ketterdam

SHU HAN

official Shu. probably? we know very, very little about the language(s) within Shu Han, but it's a fair bet that there's an official version of the language used by the government etc. this is probably the dialect that's taught to students studying Shu, particularly noble children or diplomats. its main difference from common Shu is that it has a smaller, simpler vocabulary and is easier to communicate effectively in

"common" Shu. in canon, we get a lot of references to words or phrases in Shu that are untranslatable - often in poetry or literature. that would probably be really impractical for a language used in business, so imo the dialect used by most people would be slightly different from the dialect used in government. this dialect has a lot of flowery, poetic language.

other dialects. while Shu Han is smaller than Ravka, it's still pretty big, so I imagine that again, there would be slightly differing variants of the language spoken in different places

THE WANDERING ISLE

there is no standard version of Kaelish. in my personal headcanon, the Wandering Isle is based on a mix of multiple different Celtic cultures and so has multiple different languages. honestly I could make a whole other masterpost based on my headcanons for the Wandering Isle, but I'll stick to the languages for now

Central Kaelish. this is what I imagine Colm and Jesper speak; it's loosely based on Welsh, given that Jesper's middle name is Welsh. it's probably Colm's first language, but he taught Jesper to speak it so he wouldn't lose touch with his Kaelish heritage

North Kaelish. this is what I think Pekka Rollins's dialect is; loosely based on Scottish Gaelic

basically, there's dozens of dialects across the country; some of them overlap somewhat with others, while some are more distinct

NOVYI ZEM

okay SO. once again there's like, zero canon material to work with here, but it's fine. canonically the language spoken is Zemeni. like with most of these countries, there's probably a "standard" version which is used for official purposes, spoken in and around the capital city, Shriftport

Northern Zemeni. the capital city is in the south of the country, so the dialect which differs most from "standard" Zemeni is probably spoken mostly in the north

other dialects. if I had to guess, I'd say that the other big separation of dialects is between coastal areas and inland areas - coastal cities which see a lot of trade would probably use "standard" Zemeni, so they can communicate with people who've learnt Zemeni (who would likely have studied the "standard" dialect), while inland areas would have developed their own dialects

OTHER AREAS

the Southern Colonies: is canonically a colony of Kerch, so their official language is probably "standard" Kerch. it's also canonically a place where criminals from Kerch are exiled (and the former King and Queen of Ravka, but that's almost certainly a rare exception) so there's probably also a lot of Barrel Kerch being spoken, that the criminals have brought over

there's almost certainly at least one indigenous language spoken there as well, though. whatever culture it used to have before being colonised by Kerch probably hasn't been entirely erased. the closest real-world comparison is probably Australia, where English criminals used to be sent? so I do think that there are indigenous groups living there, with their own culture and languages

a dialect has probably formed that mixes parts of Kerch with parts of the indigenous language, forming a new pidgin so that locals and new arrivals can communicate

if the Southern Colonies ever gets independence, I imagine that the original indigenous language would become its official language - the pidgin is probably used more day-to-day, though

it's also possible that the Southern Colonies used to be a part of Novyi Zem before being colonised; in which case, the indigenous people might speak Zemeni? I personally think it's separate, though

the Bone Road: a set of islands, near the Wandering Isle. apparently there are dozens but only two have names - the names they've been given sound vaguely Ravkan. I imagine that those two, Jelka and Vilki, have been "discovered" by Ravkan explorers (though probably not colonised? I think if they were Ravkan territories that would've been mentioned when Nikolai takes Alina to the Bone Road in S&S) and given Ravkan names

however, all of the islands have their own cultures and languages. they're pretty small islands so I don't think that there would be many different dialects within each island. on the other hand, I wouldn't be surprised if the languages spoken on each island were all quite similar to each other, though recognisably distinct. they're probably all at least from the same language family

#holy shit this took ages lmao #but I'm really proud of it!!#if anybody has any questions about any of this DEFINITELY send them my way - I'd love to chat about linguistics/conlangs/etc #I might actually make that Wandering Isle masterpost sometime tbh bc I have soooo many thoughts #mayhem.txt #grishaverse #mayhem grishaverse originals #I really hope I haven't forgotten anything here lmao #shadow and bone #six of crows #king of scars

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najia-cooks · 7 months ago

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[ID: The first image is of four stuffed artichoke hearts on a plate with a mound of rice and fried vermicelli; the second is a close-up on one artichoke, showing fried ground 'beef' and golden pine nuts. End ID]

أرضي شوكي باللحم / Ardiyy-shawkiyy b-al-lahm (Stuffed artichoke hearts)

Artichoke hearts stuffed with spiced meat make a common dish throughout West Asia and North Africa, with variations on the recipe eaten in Lebanon, Syria, Palestine, Algeria, and Morocco. In Palestine, the dish is usually served on special occasions, either as an appetizer, or as a main course alongside rice. The artichokes are sometimes paired with cored potatoes, which are stuffed and cooked in the same manner. Stuffed artichokes do not appear in Medieval Arab cookbooks (though artichokes do), but the dish's distribution indicates that its origin may be Ottoman-era, as many other maḥshis (stuffed dishes) are.⁩

The creation of this dish is easy enough once the artichoke hearts have been excavated (or, as the case may be, purchased frozen and thawed): they are briefly deep-fried, stuffed with ground meat and perhaps pine nuts, then stewed in water, or water and tomato purée, or stock, until incredibly tender.

While simple, the dish is flavorful and well-rounded. A squeeze of lemon complements the bright, subtle earthiness of the artichoke and cuts through the richness of the meat; the fried pine nuts provide a play of textures, and pick up on the slight nutty taste that artichokes are known for.

Terminology and etymology

Artichokes prepared in this way may be called "ardiyy-shawkiyy b-al-lahm." "Ardiyy-shawkiyy" of course means "artichoke"; "ب" ("b") means "with"; "ال" ("al") is the determiner "the"; and "لَحْم" ("laḥm") is "meat" (via a process of semantic narrowing from Proto-Semitic *laḥm, "food"). Other Palestinian Arabic names for the same dish include "أرضي شوكي محشي" ("ardiyy-shawkiyy maḥshi," "stuffed artichokes"), and "أرضي شوكي على ادامه" ("ardiyy-shawkiyy 'ala adama," "artichokes cooked in their own juice").

The etymology of the Levantine dialectical phrase meaning "artichoke" is interestingly circular. The English "artichoke" is itself ultimately from Arabic "الخُرْشُوف" ("al-khurshūf"); it was borrowed into Spanish (as "alcarchofa") during the Islamic conquest of the Iberian peninsula, and thence into English via the northern Italian "articiocco." The English form was probably influenced by the word "choke" via a process of phono-semantic matching—a type of borrowing wherein native words are found that sound similar to the foreign word ("phonetics"), and communicate qualities associated with the object ("semantics").

"Artichoke" then returned to Levantine Arabic, undergoing another process of phono-semantic matching to become "ardiyy-shawkiyy": أَرْضِيّ ("ʔarḍiyy") "earthly," from أَرْض‎ ("ʔarḍ"), "Earth, land"; and شَوْكِيّ ("shawkiyy") "prickly," from شَوْك‎ ("shawk"), "thorn."

Artichokes in Palestine

Artichoke is considered to be very healthful by Palestinian cooks, and it is recommended to also consume the water it is boiled in (which becomes delightfully savory and earthy, suitable as a broth for soup). In addition to being stuffed, the hearts may be chopped and cooked with meat or potatoes into a rich soup. These soups are enjoyed especially during Ramadan, when hot soup is popular regardless of the season—but the best season for artichokes in the Levant is definitively spring. Stuffed artichokes are thus often served by Jewish people in North Africa and West Asia during Passover.

Artichokes grow wild in Palestine, sometimes in fields adjacent to cultivated crops such as cereals and olives. Swiss traveler Johann Ludwig Burckhardt, writing in 1822, referred to the abundant wild artichoke plants (presumably Cynara syriaca) near لُوبْيا ("lūbyā"), a large village of stone buildings on a hilly landscape just west of طبريا ("ṭabariyya," Tiberias):

About half an hour to the N. E. [of Kefer Sebt (كفر سبط)] is the spring Ain Dhamy (عين ظامي), in a deep valley, from hence a wide plain extends to the foot of Djebel Tor; in crossing it, we saw on our right, about three quarters of an hour from the road, the village Louby (لوبي), and a little further on, the village Shedjare (شجره). The plain was covered with the wild artichoke, called khob (خُب); it bears a thorny violet coloured flower, in the shape of an artichoke, upon a stem five feet in height.

(Despite resistance from local militia and the Arab Liberation Army, Zionist military groups ethnically cleansed Lubya of its nearly 3,000 Palestinian Arab inhabitants in July of 1948, before reducing its buildings and wells to rubble, The Jewish National Fund later planted the Lavi pine forest over the ruins.)

Artichokes are also cultivated and marketed. Elihu Grant, nearly a century after Burckhardt's writing, noted that Palestinian villages with sufficient irrigation "[went] into gardening extensively," and marketed their goods in crop-poor villages or in city markets:

Squash, pumpkin, cabbage, cauliflower, lettuce, turnip, beet, parsnip, bean, pea, chick-pea, onion, garlic, leek, radish, mallow and eggplant are common varieties [of vegetable]. The buds of the artichoke when boiled make a delicious dish. Potatoes are getting to be quite common now. Most of them are still imported, but probably more and more success will be met in raising a native crop.

Either wild artichokes (C. syriaca) or cardoons (C. cardunculus, later domesticated to yield modern commerical artichokes) were being harvested and eaten by Jewish Palestinians in the 1st to the 3rd centuries AD (the Meshnaic Hebrew is "עַכָּבִיּוֹת", sg. "עַכָּבִית", "'aqubit"; related to the Arabic "⁧عَكُوب⁩" "'akūb," which refers to a different plant). The Tosefta Shebiit discusses how farmers should treat the sprouting of artichokes ("קינרסי," "qinrasi") during the shmita year (when fields are allowed to lie fallow), indicating that Jews were also cultivating artichokes at this time.

Though artichokes were persistently associated with wealth and the feast table (perhaps, Susan Weingarten speculates, because of the time they took to prepare), trimming cardoons and artichokes during festivals, when other work was prohibited, was within the reach of common Jewish people. Those in the "upper echelons of Palestinian Jewish society," on the other hand, had access to artichokes year-round, including (through expensive marvels of preservation and transport) when they were out of season.

Jewish life and cuisine

Claudia Roden writes that stuffed artichoke, which she refers to as "Kharshouf Mahshi" (خرشوف محشي), is "famous as one of the grand old Jerusalem dishes" among Palestinian Jews. According to her, the stuffed artichokes used to be dipped in egg and then bread crumbs and deep-fried. This breading and frying is still referenced, though eschewed, in modern Sephardi recipes.

Prior to the beginning of the first Aliyah (עלייה, wave of immigration) in 1881, an estimated 3% of the overall population of Palestine, or 15,011 people, were Jewish. This Jewish presence was not the result of political Zionist settler-colonialism of the kind facilitated by Britain and Zionist organizations; rather, it consisted of ancestrally Palestinian Jewish groups, and of refugees and religious immigrants who had been naturalized over the preceding decades or centuries.

One such Jewish community were the Arabic-speaking Jews whom the Sephardim later came to call "מוּסְתערבים" or "مستعربين" ("Musta'ravim" or "Musta'ribīn"; from the Arabic "مُسْتَعْرِب⁩" "musta'rib," "Arabized"), because they seemed indifferentiable from their Muslim neighbors. A small number of them were descendants of Jews from Galilee, which had had a significant Jewish population in the mid-1st century BC; others were "מגרבים" ("Maghrebim"), or "مغربية" ("Mughariba"): descendents of Jews from Northwest Africa.

Another major Jewish community in pre-mandate Palestine were Ladino-speaking descendents of Sephardi Jews, who had migrated to Palestine in the decades following their expulsion from Spain and then Portugal in the late 15th century. Though initially seen as foreign by the 'indigenous' Mista'avim, this community became dominant in terms of population and political influence, coming to define themselves as Ottoman subjects and as the representatives of Jews in Palestine.

A third, Yiddish- and German-speaking, Askenazi Jewish population also existed in Palestine, the result of immigration over the preceding centuries (including a large wave in 1700).

These various groups of Jewish Palestinians lived as neighbors in urban centers, differentiating themselves from each other partly by the language they spoke and partly by their dress (though Sephardim and Ashkenazim quickly learned Arabic, and many Askenazim and Muslims learned Ladino). Ashkenazi women also learned from Sephardim how to prepare their dishes. These groups' interfamiliarity with each other's cuisine is further evidenced by the fact that Arabic words for Palestinian dishes entered Ladino and Yiddish (e.g. "كُفْتَة" / "kufta," rissole; "مَزَّة⁩" "mazza," appetizer); and words entered Arabic from Ladino (e.g. "דונסי" "donsi," sweet jams and fruit leather; "בוריק" "burek," meat and cheese pastries; "המים" "hamim," from "haminados," braised eggs) and Yiddish (e.g. "לעקעך‎" "lakach," honey cake).

In addition to these 'native' Jews were another two waves of Ashkenazi migration in the late 18th and early-to-mid 19th centuries (sometimes called the "היישוב הישן," "ha-yishuv ha-yashan," "old settlement," though the term is often used more broadly); and throughout the previous centuries there had also been a steady trickle of religious immigration, including elderly immigrants who wished to die in Jerusalem in order to be present at the appointed place on the day of Resurrection. Recent elderly women immigrants unable to receive help from charitable institutions would rely on the community for support, in exchange helping the young married women of the neighborhood with childcare and with the shaping of pastries ("מיני מאפה").

In the first few centuries AD, the Jewish population of Palestine were largely farmers and agricultural workers in rural areas. By the 16th century, however, most of the Jewish population resided in the Jewish Holy Cities of Jerusalem (القُدس / al-quds), Hebron (الخليل / al-khalil), Safed (صفد), and Tiberias (طبريا / ṭabariyya). In the 19th century, the Jewish population lived entirely in these four cities and in expanding urban centers Jaffa and Haifa, alongside Muslims and Christians. Jerusalem in particular was majority Jewish by 1880.

In the 19th century, Jewish women in Jerusalem, like their Christian and Muslim neighbors, used communal ovens to bake the bread, cakes, matzah, cholent, and challah which they prepared at home. One woman recalls that bread would be sent to the baker on Mondays and Thursdays—but bribes could be offered in exchange for fresh bread on Shabbat. Charges would be by the item, or else a fixed monthly payment.

Trips to the ovens became social events, as women of various ages—while watching the bakers, who might not put a dish in or take it out in time—sent up a "clatter" of talking. During religious feast days, with women busy in the kitchen, some families might send young boys in their stead.

Markets and bakeries in Jerusalem sold bread of different 'grades' based on the proportion of white and wheat flour they contained; as well as flatbread (خبز مفرود / חובז מפרוד / khobbiz mafroud), Moroccan מאווי' / ماوي / meloui, and semolina breads (כומאש / كماج / kmaj) which Maghrebim especially purchased for the Sabbath.

On the Sabbath, those who had brick ovens in their sculleries would keep food, and water for tea and coffee, warm from the day before (since religious law prohibits performing work, including lighting fires, on Shabbat); those who did not would bring their food to the oven of a neighbor who did.

Palestinian Jewish men worked in a variety of professions: they were goldsmiths, writers, doctors, merchants, scientists, linguists, carpenters, and religious scholars. Jewish women, ignoring prohibitions, engaged in business, bringing baked goods and extra dairy to markets in Jerusalem, grinding and selling flour, spinning yarn, and making clothing (usually from materials purchased from Muslims); they were also shopkeepers and sellers of souvenirs and wine. Muslims, Jews, and Christians shared residential courtyards, pastimes, commercial enterprises, and even holidays and other religious practices.

Zionism and Jewish Palestinians

Eastern European Zionists in the 1880s and 90s were ambivalent towards existing Jewish communities in Palestine, often viewing them as overly traditional and religious, backwards-thinking, and lacking initiative. Jewish Palestinians did not seem to conform with the land-based, agricultural, and productivist ideals of political Zionist thinkers; they were integrated into the Palestinian economy (rather than seeking to create their own, segregated one); they were not working to create a Jewish ethnostate in Palestine, and seemed largely uninterested in nationalist concerns. Thus they were identified with Diaspora Jewish culture, which was seen as a remnant of exile and oppression to be eschewed, reformed, or overthrown.

These attitudes were applied especially to Sephardim and Mista'arevim, who were frequently denigrated in early Zionist literature. In 1926, Revisionist Zionist leader Vladimir Jabotinsky wrote that the "Jews, thank God, have nothing in common with the East. We must put an end to any trace of the Oriental spirit in the Jews of Palestine." The governance of Jewish communities was, indeed, changed with the advent of the British Mandate (colonial rule which allowed the British to facilitate political Zionist settling), as European political and "socialist" Zionists promoted Ashkenazi over Sephardi leadership.

Under the Ottomans, the millet system had allowed a degree of Jewish and Christian autonomy in matters of religious study and leadership, cultural and legal affairs, and the minting of currency. The religious authority of all Jewish people in Palestine had been the Sephardi Rabbi of Jerusalem, and his authority on matters of Jewish law (like the authority of the Armenian Patriarchate on matters of Christian law) extended outside of Palestine.

But British and European funding allowed newer waves of Ashkenazi settlers (sometimes called "היישוב החדש," "ha-yishuv ha-khadash," "new settlement")—who, at least if they were to live out the ideals of their sponsors, were more secular and nationalist-minded than the prior waves of Ashkenazi immigration—to be de facto independent of Sephardi governance. Several factors lead to the drying up of halaka (donated funds intended to be used for communal works and the support of the poor in Sephardi communities), which harmed Sephardim economically.

Zionist ideas continued to dominate newly formed committees and programs, and Palestinian and Sephardi Jews reported experiences of racial discrimination, including job discrimination, leading to widespread poverty. The "Hebrew labor" movement, which promoted a boycott of Palestinian labor and produce, in fact marginalized all workers racialized as Arab, and promises of work in Jewish labor unions were divided in favor of Ashkenazim to the detriment of Sephardim and Mizrahim. This economic marginalization coincided with the "social elimination of shared indigenous [Palestinian] life" in the Zionist approach to indigenous Jews and Muslims.

Despite the adversarial, disdainful, and sometimes abusive relationship which the European Zionist movement had with "Oriental" Jews, their presence is frequently used in Zionist food and travel writing to present Israel as a multicultural and pluralist state. Dishes such as stuffed artichokes are claimed as "Israeli"—though they were eaten by Jews in Palestine prior to the existence of the modern state of Israel, and though Sephardi and Mizrahi diets were once the target of a civilizing, correcting mission by Zionist nutritionists. The deep-frying that stuffed artichokes call for brings to mind European Zionists' half-fascinated, half-disgusted attitudes towards falafel. The point is not to claim a dish for any one national or ethnic group—which is, more often than not, an exercise in futility and even absurdity—but to pay attention to how the rhetoric of food writing can obscure political realities and promote the colonizer's version of history. The sinking of Jewish Palestinian life prior to the advent of modern political Zionism, and the corresponding insistence that it was Israel that brought "Jewish cuisine" to Palestine, allow for such false dichotomies as "Jewish-Palestinian relations" or "Jewish-Arab relations"; these descriptors further Zionist rhetoric by making a clear situation of ethnic cleansing and settler-colonialism sound like a complex and delicate issue of inter-ethnic conflict. To boot, the presentation of these communities as having merely paved the way to Zionist nationalism ignores their existence as groups with their own political, social, and cultural lives and histories.

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Ingredients:

Serves 4 (as a main dish).

For the artichokes:

6 fresh, very large artichokes; or frozen (not canned) whole artichoke hearts

1 lemon, quartered (if using fresh artichokes)

250g (1 1/2 cups) vegetarian ground beef substitute; or 3/4 cup TVP hydrated with 3/4 cup vegetarian 'beef' stock from concentrate

1 yellow onion, minced

Scant 1/2 tsp kosher salt

1/2 tsp ground black pepper

1 pinch ground cardamom (optional)

1/4 tsp ground allspice or seb'a baharat (optional)

1 Tbsp pine nuts (optional)

Water, to simmer

Oil, to fry

2 tsp vegetarian 'beef' stock concentrate, to simmer (optional)

Lemon, to serve

Larger artichokes are best, to yield hearts 3-4 inches in width once all leaves are removed. If you only have access to smaller artichokes, you may need to use 10-12 to use up all the filling; you might also consider leaving some of the edible internal leaves on.

The meat may be spiced to taste. Sometimes only salt and black pepper are used; some Palestinian cooks prefer to include seb'a baharat, white pepper, allspice, nutmeg, cardamom, and/or cinnamon.

Medieval Arab cookbooks sometimes call for vegetables to be deep-fried in olive oil (see Fiḍālat al-Khiwān fī Ṭayyibāt al-Ṭaʿām wa-l-Alwān, chapter 6, recipe no. 373, which instructs the reader to treat artichoke hearts this way). You may use olive oil, or a neutral oil such as canola or sunflower (as is more commonly done in Palestine today).

Elihu Grant noted in 1921 that lemon juice was often served with stuffed vegetable dishes; today stuffed artichokes are sometimes served with lemon.

For the rice:

200g Egyptian rice (or substitute any medium-grained white rice)

2 tsp broken semolina vermicelli (شعيريه) (optional)

1 tsp olive oil (optional)

Large pinch salt

520g water, or as needed

Broken semolina vermicelli (not rice vermicelli!) can be found in plastic bags at halal grocery stores.

Instructions:

For the stuffed artichokes:

1. Prepare the artichoke hearts. Cut off about 2/3 of the top of the artichoke (I find that leaving at least some of the stem on for now makes it easier to hollow out the base of the artichoke heart without puncturing it).

2. Pull or cut away the tough outer bracts ("leaves") of the artichoke until you get to the tender inner leaves, which will appear light yellow all the way through. As you work, rub a lemon quarter over the sides of the artichoke to prevent browning.

3. If you see a sharp indentation an inch or so above the base of the artichoke, use kitchen shears or a sharp knife to trim off the leaves above it and form the desired bowl shape. Set aside trimmings for a soup or stew.

4. Use a small spoon to remove the purple leaves and fibers from the center of the artichoke. Make sure to scrape the spoon all along the bottom and sides of the artichoke and get all of the fibrous material out.

5. Use a paring knife to remove any remaining tough bases of removed bracts and smooth out the base of the artichoke heart. Cut off the entire stem, so that the heart can sit flat, like a bowl.

6. Place the prepared artichoke heart in a large bowl of water with some lemon juice squeezed into it. Repeat with each artichoke.

7. Drain artichoke hearts and pat dry. Heat a few inches of oil in a pot or wok on medium and fry artichoke hearts, turning over occasionally, for a couple minutes until lightly browned. If you don't want to deep-fry, you can pan-fry in 1 cm or so of oil, flipping once. Remove with a slotted spoon and drain.

8. Prepare the filling. Heat 1 tsp of olive oil in a large skillet on medium-high and fry onions, agitating often, until translucent.

Tip: Some people add the pine nuts and brown them at this point, to save a step later. If you do this, they will of course be mixed throughout the filling rather than being a garnish on top.

9. Add spices, salt, and meat substitute and fry, stirring occasionally, until meat is browned. (If using TVP, brown it by allowing it to sit in a single layer undisturbed for 3-4 minutes, then stir and repeat.) Taste and adjust spices and salt.

10. Heat 1 Tbsp of olive oil or margarine in a small pan on medium-low. Add pine nuts and fry, stirring constantly, until they are a light golden brown, then remove with a slotted spoon. Note that, once they start taking on color, they will brown very quickly and must be carefully watched. They will continue to darken after they are removed from the oil, so remove them when they are a shade lighter than desired.

11. Stuff the artichoke hearts. Fill the bowl of each heart with meat filling, pressing into the bottom and sides to fill completely. Top with fried pine nuts.

12. Cook the artichoke hearts. Place the stuffed artichoke hearts in a single layer at the bottom of a large stock pot, along with any extra filling (or save extra filling to stuff peppers, eggplant, zucchini, or grape leaves).

13. Whisk stock concentrate into several cups of just-boiled water, if using—if not, whisk in about a half teaspoon of salt. Pour hot salted water or stock into the pot to cover just the bottoms of the stuffed artichokes.

14. Simmer, covered, for 15-20 minutes, until the artichokes are tender. Simmer uncovered for another 5-10 minutes to thicken the sauce.

For the rice:

1. Rinse your rice once by placing it in a sieve, putting the sieve in a closely fitting bowl, then filling the bowl with water; rub the rice between your fingers to wash, and remove the sieve from the bowl to strain.

2. Place a bowl on a kitchen scale and tare. Add the rice, then add water until the total weight is 520g. (This will account for the amount of water stuck to the rice from rinsing.)

3. (Optional.) In a small pot with a close-fitting lid, heat 1 tsp olive oil. Add broken vermicelli and fry, agitating often, until golden brown.

4. Add the rice and water to the pot and stir. Increase heat to high and allow water to come to a boil. Cover the pot and lower heat to a simmer. Cook the rice for 15 minutes. Remove from heat and steam for 10 minutes.

To serve:

1. Plate artichoke hearts on a serving plate alongside rice and lemon wedges; or, place artichoke hearts in a shallow serving dish, pour some of their cooking water in the base of the dish, and serve rice on a separate plate.

Tip: The white flesh at the base of the bracts (or "leaves") that you removed from the artichokes for this recipe is also edible. Try simmering removed leaves in water, salt, and a squeeze of lemon for 15 minutes, then scraping the bract between your teeth to eat the flesh.

#Palestinian #Levantine #vegan recipes #artichokes #Passover #Pesach #long post /

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artistsfuneral · 6 months ago

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I'm always a sucker for Witcher fics where someone comes to the keep really young (maybe Eskel?) and they don't speak the common language at ALL and it's even more terrifying and confusing what's happening to them. Cue lots of friendships and learning how to find their place!

ohohohohohohoho yesssss ❤✨ also isn't it canon that Eskel came from "mountain people"? It would make sense that toddler Eskel only speaks Norwegian Northern (also I started learning norwegian for no reason whatsover, so I am going to use my 100 words)

deaged!Eskel, shy toddlers, softe Geralt and awkward Lambert

It was common knowledge that most of the collected artefacts in the dungeons of Kear Morhen were cursed in one way or another. So it wasn't all that surprising, when one of them started to omniously glow once Lambert got too close to it by accident. It also wasn't very surprising that the youngest wolf was quickly shoved away by Eskel, kind, protective Eskel, who promptly ended up at the center of the curse's magic.

The tiny toddler that appeared where the full grown witcher once stood, was unexpected though. Lambert had been prepared to fight a monster, but his drawn sword prooved to be rather counterproductive when it was noticed by big brown baby eyes that immediately turned teary at the sight of danger. The loud crying that followed strangled Lambert's heart painfully.

"Oh, no, no, no! Please don't cry, I don't know what to do, when you cry!" Panicking, Lambert did the only thing that came to his mind and he reached out to pick the tiny toddler up. The witcher looked helplessly around the room, as if any of the artefacts could provide him with the secret knowledge of childcare. Eskel didn't stop crying.

"Uh- Let's get you to Geralt, okay? You like Geralt right? You're best buds, he will know what to do."

Alarmed by the sounds of a crying child, Geralt was already halfway down the keep, when Lambert reached him. The - currnetly not - youngest wolf hastened his steps and practically shoved tiny Eskel into Geralt's arms. "Lambert, what on earth?" Adjusting his hold instinctively, Geralt started to rock the toddler in his arms, one hand gently petting the mop of unruly brown hair. "Uh- that's Eskel," Lambert managed to blurt out.

"Eskel?"

"He got cursed. Down in the dungeon. I didn't know what to do, not sure he recognized me." Geralt hummed. "If it truly is Eskel, then we might have a small problem."

"What, why?" Lambert's eyes darted down from Geralt's to look a the small figure sniffling in the witcher's arms. "He's was born up north," Geralt explained slowly, "didn't speak a word of common when he first got here. It took him years to learn." Lambert's mouth went dry.

What Geralt didn't seem to know was that Lambert could in fact speak most northern dialects. But what on earth could he possibly say to a tiny child he already managed to bring to tears seconds after meeting him? He took a shaking breath, "Går det bra med deg?"

Eskel's reaction was immediate. His little head snapped up from where he had been hiding it under Geralt's chin and he stared at Lambert with wide eyes. "Hva?"

"Går det bra?" Lambert repeated, trying his best to ignore Geralt's confused stare. Between snotty sniffles a small voice that sounded nothing like the Eskel they knew, the child answered. "Ja, bra."

Lambert let out a sigh of relief. "He says he's alright, probably just got scared." Geralt's shoulders relaxed visibly. "Didn't know you speak northern."

"Wasn't exactly needed until now."

"Can you ask him, if he knows who we are? Does he recognize us at all?"

Lambert blinked at the other wolf. Angry, at himself, for not thinking about asking such an important question. He focused his gaze back at Eskel. "Vet du hvem jeg er?" A wide, toothy grin spread across Eskel's little face. His chubby little finger pointed straight at Lambert and he exclaimed proudly, "Ulv! Rød ulv!" The action was quickly followed by a similarly enthusiastic pointing, this time at Geralt, "Hvit Ulven!"

Lambert chuckled. "I think he'll be alright."

#red wolf and white wolf #the witcher #witcher #artistsfuneral about the witcher #geralt #eskel #lambert #witcher eskel #witcher lambert #witcher geralt #geralt of rivia #ficlet #deaging #ask answered

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saintsenara · 16 days ago

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Forgive me, this is probably a completely stupid and utterly out of left field question. But, I noticed you mentioned something about Harry being like a feral cat and it got me thinking. We use animal descriptions as characterizations of characters—some of the most common ones being Lucius as a peacock, McGonagall as a Lion and Umbridge as a toad (which is incredibly disrespectful to toads, if you ask me)—and I wanted to ask, what animal characteristics do you think the characters possess?

thank you very much for this, pal, which i am going to use to indulgently yap about one of my favourite incidental character descriptions in the entire series...

dumbledore's comment in half-blood prince that tom riddle is like a magpie:

"And lastly - I hope you are not too sleepy to pay attention to this, Harry - the young Tom Riddle liked to collect trophies. You saw the box of stolen articles he had hidden in his room. These were taken from victims of his bullying behaviour, souvenirs, if you will, of particularly unpleasant bits of magic. Bear in mind this magpie-like tendency, for this, particularly, will be important later."

dumbledore's choice of language here is significant. in britain and ireland, as in many places in europe, magpies - alongside other black-feathered corvids, like crows and ravens - are associated with various negative superstitions.

they have a reputation for liking - and, indeed, for coveting and stealing - shiny objects. they are said to be unlucky - and, in particular, to bring sorrow and foretell death. they are said to be malicious and petty - they were, i remember being told as a child, the only creature not to mourn while christ was crucified, and you also sometimes find the belief that they sat on the top of the ark and laughed as the floodwaters rose and drowned the world - and they are frequently associated with the devil. they are also said to be tricksters, who should never be trusted and who seek to deceive you.

many of the measures you are supposed to take to appease them are [and this fascinates me] pretty similar to those you're supposed to take to appease fairies - such as the widespread belief [which persists to this day; i was raised, albeit only half-seriously, to do it] that you must say an effusive hello to any solitary magpies you meet in order to prevent bad luck coming after you:

dumbledore's description of tom riddle as magpie-like is meant to call the long shadow of this superstition to mind. it adds a sinister subtext to his cache of objects, turning them from toys pinched from fellow orphans into macabre trophies and, of course, associating them with the horcruxes.

and it also - as the rest of dumbledore's memory of first meeting him does - serves to emphasise that the series views the eleven year old riddle as inextricable from the adult voldemort. even as a child, the only things he should be associated with are cunning, cruelty, misfortune, and death.

but magpies - again like crows and ravens - are greatly and unfairly maligned by all this folklore.

all three types of bird are extraordinarily intelligent. they perform elaborate rituals. they mate for life. they are territorial. they appear to feel emotions - and have even been observed appearing to mourn. they make a lot of noise and seem to like to talk to each other [lots of dialect names for magpies relate to the idea that they chatter, for example]. they like being treated well and hold grudges if they're treated unfairly [ravens, for instance, seem to be able to recognise if they've been cheated, and they sulk about it]. they're very stubborn. they are highly curious. their tendency to hoard objects is theorised to be because they want to show off their collections to fellow birds. they play. they can be quite affectionate in their own little ways. they give gifts.

crows and magpies are extremely common where i live - and ravens are fairly widespread in the surrounding countryside - and i'm enormously fond of them.

just as i'm enormously fond - even if dumbledore would prefer otherwise - of wee tom, in all his magpie-like, crow-like, raven-like glory.

by which i mean... he's clever, inquisitive, funny, a certified yapper, strangely loyal [one of his traits which really doesn't get enough attention in this fandom], prone to sulking, capable - in his only little way - of profound emotion, someone who conceives of himself as a gift-giver [he frames his relationship with several death eaters as a mutual gift-exchange, for example], prone to jealousy, a hoarder of special objects, and so on.

[he would have loved to go through his box of things one by one and tell dumbledore about them at length, and i'll die on that hill.]

there's also something quite bird-like in how several aspects of his quality of movement are described. while a lot of the language used for how he moves or talks is - unsurprisingly - intended to make the reader think of a snake, there's a slightly frantic, bouncy edge which comes into his movement when he's agitated - the eleven year old riddle leaps; the adult voldemort paces - which calls to mind the way birds move when not in flight, and his repeatedly-mentioned habit of observing people with his head tilted to the side - while it's undoubtedly intended to be snake-like - is a similarly avian mannerism.

these corvid vibes make it into everything i've ever written about him. i'm wedded to the headcanon that his patronus/animagus form would - much to his horror - be a magpie rather than a snake. and whenever i pair him with harry, their way of interacting always ends up having the exact dynamic seen here...

youtube

#asks answered #tom riddle #lord voldemort #corvid defence league

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miraculan-draws · 9 months ago

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I have more elfish thoughts SO forgotten realms describes elfish as a very commonly spoken language! It is a living language!! It evolves, it has a lot of dialects, it has slang, it's written etc etc.

I see quite a few fics where Astarion no longer remembers how to speak it, which is tasty angst—BUT!! in my personal opinion, in a city as big and diverse as Baldur's Gate, he probably HEARD IT too frequently to forget it. ALSO. Elfish is so commonplace it's likely there are elves who speak no Common at all. It seems it would be beneficial to remain in practice, as it would widen the pool of marks available to him.

ALSO ALSO. Cazador as well as three out of the seven spawn are elves, to me its easy to picture this being used for being secretive.

ALSO. You know who WAS removed from their family at a young age and then brought into a mixed social structure BUT in far smaller groups where elfish might not be spoken for a VERY long time?? Halsin. I could see Halsin not being fluent anymore.

#i always see it the other way around #bg3 #halsin #astarion

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dorkus-mcdingus · 1 month ago

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A random list of TWST HCs in no particular order

(Keep in mind they can range from general, fluffy, or angsty)

- Sam is bilingual but he speaks the Port O' Bliss (Louisiana) Dialect of French. He also would call Crowley a coullion/couyon (don't know the proper spelling. Sorry!) under his breath whenever that old crow is just yapping instead of paying for his order.

- Malleus had his mind blown when he first heard about milkshakes. I mean you can drink ice cream?! THROUGH A STRAW?! 🤯

- The only time you will ever hear Crewel call himself "daddy" is whenever he gets caught baby talking towards his dogs. Not that he has any shame in doing it.

- Jamil would slip into his mother tongue whenever he gets SUPER pissed off (it's not often when he does but 0/10 would not recommend you do it)

- I pretty much HC a good majority of the twst cast to be bilingual or know a few languages depending on where they come from. Although if they're from the Queendom of Roses, I mainly see them being monolingual but have the ability to read other languages.

- Rollo has vivid nightmares about his brother's death and how he ultimately blames himself for what happened. It's so bad to where the poor boy would rather not fall asleep so he won't see the visions again. The best sort of night is where he doesn't dream. There's nothing but the black void when he closes his eyes.

- I feel like Lilia would be sad hearing the song "Army Dreamers" because it would remind him so much of the war and the many soldiers that died serving Briarland. They were someone's child after all.

- Speaking of Lilia, he can turn on the old soldier voice and it's the one way he knows how to scare the shit out of some of the former soldiers that served with him. However, he would say

"I've spent so long playing soldier that I'm kind of tired of it."

If you ask him why he stopped using that voice. God... Malleus, Silver, and Sebek did a number on that old man.

- If I were to make a guess on Gidel's age, I think he would be around 9 or 10 years old. So it's safe to say that Fellow probably found him when he was either in his late teens or early twenties. Though, I'm more leaning on early twenties for this.

- I got PLENTY of hcs surrounding those two but much like most of the cast, Fellow himself is bilingual and learned the common language through his travels (mother tongue is Italian of course). Despite his limited education, he does try to help Gidel learn how to read and write as best as he can. Gidel is also his biggest priority. I don't think he really minds what happens to him as long as Gidel is happy, has food in his stomach, and his clothes are well mended but Gidel in turn knows how much Fellow has been suffering for their sake.

- Gidel also understands Italian but also the common language as well. Due to his limitations with reading and writing, one of the ways he is able to overcome the barrier when it comes to communication is miming or nodding and shaking his head. Sometimes what he's trying to say does get lost in translation but he and Fellow have such a tight knit bond that his big brother can understand him perfectly and can translate what he's saying if someone is having difficulty understanding him. He is a very streetwise kid underneath that adorable smile but is also a rather sensitive individual and can feel when someone is in pain or unhappy especially if it's Fellow

- A favorite story of our favorite scheming duo is "The Emperor's New Clothes"

- Yuu/MC has a tradition of welcoming the Halloween guest characters as honorary members of Ramshackle Dorm by making them perform a hazing ritual of having them take care of Grim when it's his bath time. Grim's a little bastard about it too especially towards Fellow and Rollo (I'm unsure about Skully but I'll update once the event is complete).

- Azul is the worst person to play Monopoly against

- I feel like the Tweels would sing a jazzy version of "People = Shit" with Azul playing the piano but the more he heard the two chaos gremlins sing, the more he wanted to crawl into an octopus pot

- Pre-overblot Riddle would definitely have a stroke reading The Cat in the Hat especially since the moral is that sometimes a little rule breaking is fine as long as it doesn't go too far

- If you think Azul is the most annoying person to play Monopoly against, Ace would know all the ways to piss you off in Uno. I think the first years playing Uno would be both one hilarious sight to witness but also the worst because of how much those boys are going to be fighting with each other.

- Despite Grim saying he's not a cat, his cuddles and purrs can soothe one's soul despite how much he's a little bastard most of the time. It's little moments like these where the MC thinks it's worth it putting up with his attitude and his black hole of a stomach

- Dylla was definitely a delinquent in her youth and the apple didn't fall far from the tree when it came to her son. Although her son may struggle in terms of academics, the fact that Deuce is trying to clean up his act and reform is something that always makes her swell with pride.

- If Maleanor were still alive, she would've been the CUTEST grandma! Although I do think that the fact that her son is close friends with a human does make her feel uneasy because she doesn't want him to get hurt like how humans have hurt her. Although I do also think that Lilia would often visit her grave and tell her of the many milestones that happened to him and her son.

- Despite the fact that Trein's daughters are all grown up, they still keep in contact with their father to make sure he's doing okay and their conversations can get LONG but I don't think the professor minds at all. Any time he spends with his children whether he's home or on a call, he treasures it.

- I feel like knowing that Crowley likes wild game and Vargas himself is a hunter, I wouldn't be surprised if he took the headmage on a hunting trip. I also think that Vargas would give the fur to Crewel if he needs some material. The man may be a muscle head but he's not wasteful when it comes to hunting for game meat.

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst #twst thoughts #twisted wonderland headcanons #twst hcs #I may do a part two to this mainly for the staff and the Halloween guest characters #i may also do other parts the more I get to know some characters mainly because Diasomnia's my bread and butter

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mesetacadre · 5 months ago

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>send me asks im bored

something ive read, and then seen people like txttletale talk about; being a marxist isn't just about rattling off a parroted opinion, but developing a framework utilizing diamat to consistently come to a correct conclusion. identify the primary contradiction, etc.

obviously it is a practiced skill, but how would you say is one of the better ways to practice building that framework?

You are completely right! Marxism is not a dogma, but an philosophical framework for analyzing, criticizing and overcoming wage labor and the system that upholds it. As exposed by Lenin in The Three Sources and Three Component Parts of Marxism (it's a great book and a short read, highly recommend), "Marxism is a continuation of the teachings of the greatest representatives of philosophy, political economy and socialism [...] German philosophy, English political economy and French socialism". What marxism is, is the logical continuation of these three components; from German philosophy grows dialectical materialism (read: Theses On Feuerbach), from English political economy grows the description of how capitalism works (read: Capital), and from French (utopian) socialism grows scientific socialism (read: Socialism: Utopian and Scientific)

Instead of, for example, just memorizing how reformism is bad and revolution is good, you should instead understand how class struggle influences both of these actions, how reformism is used by the capitalist class to misdirect the workers' struggle, and how the way class struggle functions and has always functioned necessitates that the proletariat take its historic role as the overthrowers of capitalism, and beyond this, how this is worked towards. It's also very important to understand how common marxist positions are reached in order to continue analizing new situations, such as the Palestinian struggle.

I will never grow tired of saying this: the only path towards becoming a better communist whilst advancing the class struggle bit by bit is through constant theoretical and practical education, the involvement of yourself in the workers' struggle and the capacity to extract lessons from it via what you learn by reading the works of other communists, who most probably have already dealt with an analogous situation to yours more than 90 years ago, and then to complete the cycle, reapply those lessons to your work as a communist. You can only get so far by only reading or by only doing things (of course everyone's personal situation will influence the ability to do either or both of these, I think it goes without saying). Synthetically: Learn from the past, learn from the present, exercise your own mind, and never grow complacent. In due time (we're talking more than a year at least, probably more), the marxist framework will be as natural to you as the liberal framework is to most people

#ask #anon #seriousposting #sometimes i still struggle with that last part though it's becoming rarer #Everyone has their own timings and rhythms #don't compare your progress to other people's pacing too much #i promise you're doing better than you think <3

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torillatavataan · 6 months ago

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Hi, I have a question, what is the shortest form of the numbers after four? I know that you can say yy, ka, ko ne, until four but what is the shortest you can go with the rest of the numerals? Thanks in advance!

Hi! Good question. In Finnish, we can indeed on some occasions shorten the numbers a lot. How we do it depends on why we're shortening the numbers and which dialects we speak.

What you are referring to are the short forms used for counting.

From one to ten, in standrad Finnish: yksi, kaksi, kolme, neljä, viisi, kuusi, seitsemän, kahdeksan, yhdeksän, kymmenen.

Here are the common short forms for counting: yy, kaa, koo, nee, vii, kuu, sei/see, kasi, ysi, kymppi/kymmene.

Typically one to six/seven all use long vowels, but when counting really fast, the second vowel can get swallowed and you'll end up with y, ka, ko, ne, vi, ku, se(i), kasi, ysi, kymppi/kymmene.

A slightly longer version is yks, kaks, kolme, neljä, viis, kuus, seittemä, kaheksa, yheksä, kymmene. These can be used in more contexts, so let's focus on the yy, kaa, koo etc. forms.

After ten (yksitoista, kaksitoista etc. in standard Finnish), you combine: Yytoo/yy'yy*, kaatoo, kootoo/koltoo, neetoo/neltoo, vii(s)too, kuutoo, seitoo, kasitoo, ysitoo, kakskyt.

The tens are: kymppi/kymmene, kakskyt, kolkyt, nelkyt, viiskyt, kuuskyt, seitkyt, kasikyt/kaheks(a)kyt, ysikyt/yheks(ä)kyt. In some dialects, all end in -kytä (kakskytä etc.) and some dialects say the vowels in brackets, others don't.

With the tens (in standard Finnish kaksikymmentäyksi, kaksikymmentäkaksi etc.), you combine like this: kaayy, kaakaa, kaakoo, kaanee, kaavii, kaakuu, kaasei, kaakasi, kaaysi.

From thirtyone and on: kooyy, kookaa, kookoo, koonee, koovii, kookuu, koosei, kookasi, kooysi. You can probably guess the rest, but here's a few for you to figure out: neesei, viiyy, kuukasi, seikaa, kasisei, ysiysi.

Some dialects use the tens like this: yksyks, ykskaks, ykskol, yksnel, yksviis, ykskuus, ykssei, ykskasi, yksysi. Kaksyks, kakskaks, kakskol, kaksnel, kaksviis, kakskuus, kaksei, kakskasi, kaksysi. Kolyks, kolkaks.. Nel'yks*, nelkaks... Viis'yks*, viiskaks... Kuus'yks*, kuuskaks... Seiyks, seikaks... Kasiyks, kasikaks... Ysiyks, ysikaks...

*to mark the syllable break because yyyy would be just a very long y sound and nelyks, viisyks, kuusyks can imply the syllables are ne-lyks, vii-syks, kuu-syks. Which they aren't, so don't remember these..! :D

I'm sure there are other combos out there, but these are common ones I can think of. I don't want to make it more complicated than it already is.

NOTE: As a rule of thumb, these short forms (yy, kaa, koo etc.) are only used for counting. You can't use most of these in other contexts. For example, you can't use these for telling the time, age, price, or weight etc.

You can use them when you're counting to a hundred while playing hide-and-seek, counting the number of jumps done with a skipping rope, counting the number of people or things, and so on. You also don't use these if you're counting backwards.

You can't say you are viitoo years old. You can't say you weigh kuukasi kilos. You can't say your grandma lives ysikoo kilometres away. You can't say something costs kaakaa euros. You can't say it's koovii minutes past midday.

You can say: "Kolmosella/kolmella lähtee: yy, kaa, koo!" (We'll go at three: one, two three!) "Aika alkaa nyt! Yy, kaa, koo, nee, ... sata! Aika!" (Time starts now! One, two, three, four, ...hundred! Time's up!) "Hirveästi kukkia! Yy, kaa, koo, nee..." (So many flowers! One, two, three, four...) "Ei minulla taida olla tarpeeksi rahaa. Yy, kaa, koo, nee, vii... Vain viisi euroa." (I don't think I have enough money. One, two, three, four, five... Only five euros (implies you have five one euro coins).)

In conclusion, these are typically used when you want to count something fast. You can also use these to count the seconds between lightning and the rumble of thunder, but it kinda defeats the purpose because you have to go yy...kaa...koo... etc. slowly.

There's a short, funny post I've reblogged about this here. :)

#vastaus #takeawaymysunshine #suomen kieli

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cosmicsevils · 2 months ago

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Luis Sera is a language genius.

Some more interesting Luis thoughts? I went over it a bit on this post, but I wanna speak about the fact that he is a linguistic master.

We know Luis can canonically speak European/Castillian Spanish and English. But did you know that Luis can probably speak Latin, and also, different forms/dialects of Spanish as well?

Quick history lesson.

So Spain is where the original Spanish originates from - that is where Luis is from. In Spain, a specific dialect of Spanish is spoken that is different if not,a completely different language from the Spanish you'd hear in the States or in other places in Latin America - it is called Castillian. It's closer to like, Latin and Portuguese (Portugal Portuguese!). The reason there are different dialects of Spanish is because Spain (where Luis is from) colonized/imperialised other nations for slavery, land, etc. Indigenous people ended up being forced to learn Spanish, so did African people thus - we have different variations of Spanish. Those dialects of Spanish, are not taught in Spain.

So back to Luis. When Luis leaves Valdelobos and ends up coming to the US, it is very possible that he cannot actually understand or communicate with the variations of Spanish spoken in the US or in Latin America. He is not the same nationality/ethnicity etc., as latin people or Hispanic people, etc. So Luis had to actually learn how to speak different dialects of Spanish which to him, is essentially a different language from Castillian. But what we can gather is that, because he is smart, Luis probably learned it easily, and learns it in such a way to not mix it up with his Castillian.

Luis also probably knows how to speak various forms of Castillian spanish. Valdelobos is isolated, so while yes, he speaks Castillian that is common in his village, Spain is modernized and their dialect of Castillian and how they speak, is going to be different from Valdelobos, which is still stuck in the 1700rds.

Luis also speaks Latin. Castillian is close to Latin, they are extremely related. However, Valdelobos is a Catholic town, and I mean, pre 2000s Catholic. Again, stuck in the 1700rds - Vatican I kinda Catholic. Which means that for Luis and his religious village to communicate, and interact in church services, mass, Latin was a must. The scripture, liturgy, everything said done in Latin. Luis probably learned this from a very, very, very young age because it was embedded in his culture.

Now, Luis can speak English- and it's more than likely, English is both his first and second language. Castillian is his first language, but Luis himself probably also grew up speaking English. Even for a Spanish town stuck in the 1700rds, it wouldn't be out of the ordinary for people to know English when it came to things like trade, politics, etc. Salazar, spoke English - which is more understandable as a noble/mayor like figure. But I wouldn't be surprised if like Latin, English was a language that was taught along side.

Luis can also probably speak Italian - no actually background for that, I'm just assuming he can - probably better than Leon lol. This is probably because in my hc, unlike his husband Leon, Luis is very catholic.

Do you think there's any other language Luis can speak?

#luis sera #luis serra navarro #re 4 #resident evil 4 #re 4 remake #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #luis serra #luis resident evil

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a-bag-of-issues-blog · 9 months ago

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Language in a Space Age

I've been going down the "humans are Space Orcs" rabbithole again, and a lot of it felt unsatisfying to me, so I tried my hand at whipping up a story I liked.

---

It was four sols prior when the security contract with the mercenaries ended.

Three sols prior when the ship’s Captain had said Xe might know someone.

Two sols prior when we had landed on the sandy, hot planet.

And one sol prior when I had first seen a Human fight.

It was an underground fighting arena – almost literally, with only the very top of the domed structure rising out of the sand dune, its colored glass absorbing the worst of the radiation. The seating was arranged in the large, concentric rings common of many gathering places (and yet we still do not have a word in Common for it, is that not strange?), and they were packed with people and dust alike. Despite the obviously ill maintenance of the ventilation and heating, they were bearable, and I only had to remove a small amount of dust from my body coat as we ventured deeper inside.

“So, boss, who’s your mysterious benefactor?” Asked Asdelon as its left eye moved towards the Captain, the right one continuing to scan the crowd.

Our pilot was something of an outsider – from both its home culture and, perhaps, every culture it has ever entered. As a Khetansh, it was born an almost perfect clone of its progenitor, who was itself part of a set of almost perfect clones of their progenitor, like the rest of its species one way or another. And yet Asdelon has always described itself as different, in a way that the Common tongue can not express. There was a word for it, in its language – but it had never found the need to translate it, and I had never dared ask. It was one of the species that felt the need to stare at others’ eyes as it spoke, and while I would now trust it with my life, back then those large eyes and sharp teeth reminded me too much of the old cautionary stories my parents used to tell me.

Those eyes turned fully onto the Captain after some time of no response. While the scales on its face could move very little, its voice was higher and definitely sarcastic when it continued:

“Thanks for the info, boss, makes tracking this Iethid a lot easier.”

The Captain’s eyes swayed in time with his antennae, a sign of what I had begun to recognize as amusement.

“Oh, don’t scuff your scales now. I was just looking around.”

Captain Exlasl was a Xelthor, and a large one for Xirs age. Xirs outer skeleton was a slight blue and white, and Xe liked to brag that the brown stripped markings on Xirs abdomen were signs of great strength and wisdom in Xirs culture. As I did not – and do not – have much knowledge on Drugarian Xelthor culture, I never challenged Xir about that.

“And we could be helping you, if you were a little less mysterious about it.”

“Don’t worry, I think you’ll have your answer soon enough…” The translator trailed off as Xe reached up to adjust it with Xirs smaller hand, but Xirs eyes began turning towards the arena floor where the latest combatant (a Horenga, with a body coat almost identical to mine) had entered. Asdelon looked down at the combatant, and I could tell it was not impressed.

“Really? That one? I’ll give you that they’re probably a little faster than our Horenga here, but I can tell you right now they’re still more…how do you say…more words than action.”

“The Horenga has a name.” I reminded it. “And their name is Linome.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Its tongue flicked out to drag down its right eye (a method of self-cleaning that was also an expression of boredom, almost like how I and other Horengas clean our ears) and it shifted the weight on its legs. “Listen, if you’re out of ideas, then you could’ve just told us. No need to –”

The announcer’s voice called out, in a dialect of Common so blended with the local language that I could not understand a single word. A combatant walked out, and I have never felt such awe and dread so strong in a single moment before.

Humans are not rare. They are not the strongest species, or the largest species, or the toughest. But they are resilient, they are tenacious, and many are warriors.

This Human was small for her species – which meant her eyes were level with the middle of the ears of her opponent. Her skin had multiple marks on them, wounds healed from past battles in the raised and bumpy way Human skin heals, and her limbs were large and clearly muscled. Her clothes were loose and flowing, and her hands were wrapped – from the base of her digits up to the second joint of her arm. Her face, though, drew my attention.

Supposedly, Human faces change drastically as they emote – the movement of skin and muscles in the face being their primary form of expression. Since moving onto the sand, though, the Human’s face had changed as little as Asdelon’s had – even when they bowed to their opponent, even as they moved to opposite ends of the arena.

“Is that your secret weapon?” I still could not pick up on the inflections of Asdelon’s voice, but the way it moved closer to the arena showed it was interested in some way. Exlasl’s pincers clicked together quickly, amusedly – excitedly, even.

“You bet your behind it is. You’re about to meet the person that once tore off my big arm.”

That caught my attention – but the bell had already rung, and the combatants were running at each other face first already.

---

The event lasted almost an entire rotation, and afterwards we still could not immediately contact the Human, because she was still being treated for her injuries. She had promised to contact us on the next rotation, though, which was good because I needed the time to prepare myself.

The brutality and relentlessness of Humans were not exaggerated. When that poor Horenga struck the Human a over and over, she simply took the blows she could not avoid, and a single direct strike to their chest was enough to end the fight. When an Asdelon walked into the ring with her, she did not flinch as she stared down those large eyes, her face did not change as her skin became torn from claw and teeth. And when a Xelthor entered…

They say human hands were not born for fighting – they are dexterous, but with no more reinforcements than the rest of their body. Yet they taught themselves ways to fight with them anyways, and trained until their bones would break stone.

And on and on and on like that she went, battle after battle, until the rotation was done when her final opponent simply dropped from the exhaustion of so many previous battles. And we were to talk to that, because she was old friend of the Captain’s and “more than willing to be violent when necessary”.

I was scared. Terrified. Multiple levels of fear beyond that which the Common tongue could not fully describe. I was pacing the doorway in front of our rented resting place because I had rested and eaten multiple times during the rotation already and felt like I might be sick if I had done any more of either. I wanted to run, and – what? Feed the stereotype that Horenga were mostly weak cowards? Abandon the Captain and Asdelon, after all they’d done for me? But – but we were about to have a Human onboard! A fleshy, hairless, skin and bones death machine –

“Hello?”

The word was in Horengian (the global version of it, anyways) and while it was clear and understandable, it sounded…wrong. Like a machine had spoken it, except the voice was very clearly…

“Human?”

That was a rude way to address her, looking back on it. She did not mind though, instead only tilting her head slightly in a…shockingly familiar expression of confusion.

“Do you…prefer…the Common language?” Despite the pauses and hesitation and the accent (or, well, the complete absence of any accent), she was easily understandable. I was, of course, afraid for my very fragile life so I did not have an answer ready for her.

Luckily for me, it was at that moment that the Captain opened the door to investigate the noise. Xirs antennae rose fully up at the sight of the human, and her mouth curled upwards as she saw Xir (a human gesture of joy, the one that didn’t involve baring teeth).

Xir didn’t even turn on his translator, simply started clicking in his native Drugarian. And she answered back in kind, pulling her lips back and finally showing clear white teeth as she clicked back at him…somehow (Humans and their terrifyingly good mimicry.) The entire conversation afterwards happened entirely in Drugarian, and I wound up serving drinks for them almost out of an absence of other things to do.

The Human did not ever take off her coat – light brown, large, almost seeming to drag her down – and every time I turned my back to her, I could feel myself being watched. When the captain went to go fetch Asdelon, she turned and looked at me directly.

“You never answered my question, earlier.”

Cornered, instantly. Like a true predator.

“Well…I don’t mind whatever language you use, really. It’s not like I particularly like our global language.”

She moved her head up and down – nodding, a gesture of understanding in some cultures. “What’s your…original language, then?”

“Oh, no need to ask, it’s not like you need to learn it to really talk anyways if we’re going to be travelling together.” Deflect, quickly. “Why do you ask, anyways? The Common language was made for this situation, wasn’t it?”

The human tilted her head, again – the lack of moving ears removes much of the subtler indications in body language, so I wasn’t sure if she was just considering me or confused. She was staring at a point above my head, which – well, I appreciated, but still.

Eventually, when she spoke again, it was slow.

“The Common language…it is what we all have in common. The one through line to unite us disparate people. But it is not…comprehensive.”

She took off her coat, then – and I almost jumped when she let it drop onto the floor, its impact as heavy as if it was filled with sand.

“There are sandbags, in my coat.” Well, that explained it. “The gravity here…it is less than that of my home. Dirt, as we call it.”

Her lips curled up, briefly, at the name.

“The rotation cycle here is different as well. The people are of course different. Yet…when I see them…many are not from this world. Many do not need bags. They need other things. Things to maintain temperature, gravity…level of water.”

Her digits were moving, again, four of them thrumming a rhythm (humans sang, of course they did, anything with a voice like that could sing) as she tried to piece together her next words.

“The Common language is the thing we have in common. That we are people is another of those. But reducing so many people to only the things they have in common…it is like reducing a galaxy to a painting. Too much is lost in translation.”

There was a moment of silence. She was staring to a point to my right. I was looking just over her head.

“…we have a saying for that. In my language. Ylimuan Horenga, I mean. It…” I could not help but chitter a little at the irony. “It doesn’t translate very well.”

She tilted her head, a small amount to the other side. When her face changed this time, a little bit of teeth was showing, but she closed her lips almost immediately to hide it.

“Could you…teach it, to me?”

Excerpts from What Is Lost Between The Words by Linome Aiklion Prinou, translated into Earth English.

#text post #text #long reads #language #scifi #stories #writing #humans are space orcs

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serpentface · 5 months ago

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Do you conlang? I was wondering if you had naming languages (or possibly even more developed ones) for pulling the words you use. I tried to search your blog but didn't find anything, wouldn't be surprised if the feature is just busted tho. Your worldbuilding is wonderful and I particularly enjoy the anthropological and linguistic elements.

Ok the thing is I had kind of decided I was not going to do any conlanging because I don't feel like I'm equipped to do a good job of it, like was fully like "I'm just going to do JUST enough that it doesn't fail an immediate sniff test and is more thoughtful than just keysmashing and putting in vowels". And then have kinda been conlanging anyway (though not to a very deep and serious extent. I maybe have like....an above average comprehension of how language construction works via willingness to research, but that's not saying much, also I can never remember the meanings of most linguistic terms like 'frictives' or etc off the top of my head. I'm just kinda raw dogging it with a vague conceptualization of what these things mean)

I do at least have a naming language for Wardi (and more basic rules for other established languages) but the rudimentary forms of it were devised with methods much shakier and less linguistically viable than even the most basic naming language schemes, and I only went back over it LONG after I had already made a bunch of words so there's some inconsistencies with consonant presence and usage. (This can at least be justified because it IS a language that would have a lot of loanwords and would be heavily influenced by other language groups- Burri being by far the most significant, Highland-Finnic and Yuroma-Lowlands also being large contributors)

The 'method' I used was:

-Skip basic construction elements and fully move into devising necessary name words, with at least a Vibe of what consonants are going to be common and how pronunciation works -Identify some roots out of the established words and their meanings. Establish an ongoing glossary of known roots/words. -Construct new words based in root words, or as obvious extensions/variants of established words. -Get really involved in how the literal meanings of some words might not translate properly to english, mostly use this to produce a glossary of in-universe slang. -Realize that I probably should have at least some very basic internal consistency at this point. -Google search tutorials on writing a naming language. -Reverse engineer a naming language out of established words, and ascribe all remaining inconsistencies to being loanwords or just the mysteries of life or whatever.

I do at least have some strongly established pronunciation rules and a sense of broad regional dialect/accents.

-'ai' words are almost always pronounced with a long 'aye' sound.

-There is no 'Z' or 'X' sound, a Wardi speaker pronouncing 'zebra' would go for 'tsee-brah', and would attempt 'xylophone' as 'ssye-lohp-hon'

-'V' sounds are nearly absent and occur only in loanwords, and tend to be pronounced with a 'W' sound. 'Virsum' is a Highland word (pronounced 'veer-soom') denoting ancestry, a Wardi speaker would go 'weer-sum'.

-'Ch' spellings almost always imply a soft 'chuh' sound when appearing after an E, I, or O (pelatoche= pel-ah-toh-chey), but a hard 'kh' sound after an A or U (odomache= oh-doh-mah-khe). When at the start of a word, it's usually a soft 'ch' unless followed by an 'i' sound (chin (dog) is pronounced with a hard K 'khiin', cholem (salt) is pronounced with a soft Ch 'cho-lehm')

-Western Wardin has strong Burri cultural and linguistic influence, and a distinct accent- one of the most pronounced differences is use of the ñ sound in 'nn' words. The western city of Ephennos is pronounced 'ey-fey-nyos' by most residents, the southeastern city of Erubinnos is pronounced 'eh-roo-been-nos' by most residents. Palo's surname 'Apolynnon' is pronounced 'A-puh-lee-nyon' in the Burri and western Wardi dialects (which is the 'proper' pronunciation, given that it's a Kos name), but will generally be spoken as 'Ah-poh-leen-non' in the south and east.

-R's are rolled in Highland-Finnic words. Rolling R's is common in far northern rural Wardi dialects but no others. Most urban Wardi speakers consider rolling R's sort of a hick thing, and often think it sounds stupid or at least uneducated. (Brakul's name should be pronounced with a brief rolled 'r', short 'ah' and long 'uul', but is generally being pronounced by his south-southeastern compatriots with a long unrolled 'Brah' sound).

Anyway not really a sturdy construction that will hold up to the scrutiny of someone well equipped for linguistics but not pure bullshit either.

#I actually did just make a post about this on my sideblog LOL I think in spite of my deciding not to conlang this is going to go full #full conlanging at some point #The main issue is that the narrative/dialogue is being written as an english 'translation' (IE the characters are speaking in their actual #tongues and it's being translated to english with accurate meaning but non-literal treatment)#Which you might say like 'Uh Yeah No Shit' but I think approaching it with that mindset at the forefront does have a different effect than #just fully writing in english. Like there's some mindfulness to what they actually might be saying and what literal meanings should be #retained to form a better understanding of the culture and what should be 'translated' non-literally but with accurate meaning #(And what should be not translated at all)#But yeah there's very little motivation for conlanging besides Pure Fun because VERY few Wardi words beyond animal/people/place names #will make it into the actual text. Like the only things I leave 'untranslated' are very key or untranslatable concepts that will be #better understood through implication than attempts to convey the meaning in english #Like the epithet 'ganmachen' is used to compliment positive traits associated with the ox zodiac sign or affectionately tease #negative ones. This idea can be established pretty naturally without exposition dumps because the zodiac signs are of cultural #importance and will come up frequently. The meaning can get across to the reader pretty well if properly set up.#So like leaving it as 'ganmachen' you can get 'oh this is an affectionate reference to an auspicious zodiac sign' but translating #it as the actual meaning of 'ox-faced' is inevitably going to come across as 'you look like a cow' regardless of any zodiac angle #^(pretty much retyped tags from other post)#Another aspect is there's a few characters that have Wardi as a second language and some of whom don't have a solid grasp on it #And I want to convey this in dialogue (which is being written in english) but I don't want it to just be like. Random '''broken''' english #like I want there to be an internal consistency to what parts of the language they have difficulties with (which then has implications for #how each language's grammar/conjugation/etc works). Like Brakul is fairly fluent in Wardi at the time of the story but still struggles #with some of the conjugation (which is inflectional in Wardi) especially future/preterite tense. So he'll sometimes just use the #verb unconjugated or inappropriately in present tense. Though this doesn't come across as starkly in text because it's #written in english. Like his future tense Wardi is depicted as like 'I am to talk with him later' instead of 'I'll talk with him later'#Which sounds unnatural but not like fully incorrect #But it would sound much more Off in Wardi. Spanish might be a better example like it would be like him approaching it with #'Voy a hablar con él más tarde' or maybe 'Hablo con él más tarde' instead of 'Hablaré con él más tarde'#(I THINK. I'm not a fluent spanish speaker sorry if the latter has anything wrong with it too)

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meichenxi · 7 months ago

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languages, travel, identity, grief

Maybe some of you have heard of Xu Zhimo's Second Farewell to Cambridge (徐志摩再別康橋 Translation: Saying Goodbye to Cambridge Again, by Xu Zhimo | East Asia Student). It's an achingly lovely poem about a Chinese scholar who studied in the UK, and how he left so gently, taking nothing with him as he went. It brought me solace over the last year.

I thought for a very long time about how I felt about having to leave China, and what it felt like to mourn for a future that was never going to mine. I cried. How am I supposed to explain why? I'm not Chinese. I've got no family there, or a childhood to look back on. I couldn't explain it even to myself.

That pain was coupled with a type of uncertainty, a discomfort at myself for feeling so strongly. This feeling was not allowed. It meant - what? Something awful, probably. I was a racist, probably. I should hate myself, probably. Fetishization is the word that gets thrown around for white people and their time spent in East Asia at one end of the spectrum - at the other end it's just seen as embarrassing and deeply, you know, cringe. It's a self-interrogation - why do I feel so sad? Why do I feel this pull so strongly anyway, to a country that's not even mine? Why should it matter so much when I leave? I didn't feel like this grief has any sort of legitimacy. But it has taken from September - eight months after leaving - for me to pick up Chinese again.

I felt, for months, hollow and unsettled and drifting from place to place. I opened my textbook, and closed it again. The memories there were too painful. I'm not going to write about why I had to leave, but it wasn't by choice. I had loved the people in the school, even if it was for a short time. When you have no internet and are training eight hours a day, the days are coloured more sharply: bright and hurtful and wonderful all at once. We had no running water. It was in an abandoned hotel. I miss the monk at the temple door opposite the school, always on time at 6am to open it for our classes. I miss the folk at the local shop who invited me to watch films on their projector; once they killed a chicken for us. I miss the woman in the woods who gave me the chestnuts she had picked. I gave the chestnuts to the cook, and we steamed them and ate them by the lake. He wanted me to marry his son; he wanted it so strongly that he brought me pork, and desserts, and gave me paper, and promised me I could have a jade bracelet, that he would buy me a house. I miss the oldest martial arts teacher, who spoke in such strong dialect I could barely understand him. When I was sad and missing home one night, he told me that I should stay after dinner. In the silence and against the cicadas, he started to play the erhu for me. Later, my friend told me that he hadn't know what to say, how to comfort me; I was a foreigner and a young woman, after all. We had very little in common. But nobody has ever played a piece of music for me like that before.

And I miss X, my best friend there and partner in snack-smuggling crime. She is 19 years old, and a janitor's daughter, and one of the wisest people I have ever met. (She also rides an excellent motorbike, and lent me her hanfu, and we sped through the city giddy with our own daring and trying not to be caught.) We got matching haircuts; she had always wanted to cut her hair like a boy, and was too scared to do it alone. When I left, I told her to stay in touch: she shook her head. She said that some people were meant to know each other for some time, and no more. I think the death of friendship by attrition, by - as Elrond said! - the slow decay of time, is one of the saddest things of all. I deleted Wechat. I don't want to read over the old messages. By having this place - her, and the chestnuts, and the cicadas - as a memory, I can tuck it away it. I can keep it close.

I wrote a poem myself on the plane. That was the last I thought about China, the last thought I let myself have, in eight months. I kept myself away from it. It felt like a wound. And against that hollowness, there was constantly the question: Why should I have any right to miss this place? Who I am there? Why does it matter? We are all different people, wherever we go, and whoever we are with; we wear different skins, large or small. In China I was [...]. She was who I was. That name, that I introduced myself to people with - she was bright and friendly and tried to translate things just so. Everybody who goes as the only foreigner to a place - or the only foreigner that speaks the language - is a little bit self-obsessed. It happens. It's unfortunate, and something to guard against. But it also gives you its own kind of identity in a way: your identity is Foreigner. Your identity is a cultural bridge. Everyone you meet, in a country as friendly and curious as China, has questions about you. You stand with your feet in both worlds, and are not really part of either of them. That identity is easy to slip into, like cool water, like trying on new clothes. It's easier that thinking: who am I outside of that? Where am I going? I don't really know. I don't think anyone really does.

And then the second thing happens. I speak Chinese well, by this point. My accent is there, but it's slight. I am short, and have dark hair, and a generally similar build to many East Asians - so the questions I have got in the last few years have changed. Sometimes people think I have been raised here. Sometimes they think I am ethnically Russian, and nationally Chinese. Sometimes I get asked if I am half Chinese. Usually they know I am a Foreigner, 100% white - but not always. There is a peculiar rush that comes from that acceptance; from feeling the relief, just for fifteen minutes, that you belong. It's not about 'passing', or race-bending, or anything twisted - it's nothing so unnerving as that. It's just the human need to belong. Everyone gets tired of being stared at, after a while. And after a while, you start to think - I wish I understood. I wish they understood. I wish this were easy.

But then the conversation keeps going. You don't know a local word, or you misunderstand. You say something in a strange way, or you make a strange gesture, and the glass shatters, and - there you are again, naked again, exhausted again, explaining yourself again. That's the other half of it. There's solace in the Foreigner identity, because that means that's all you are. You don't have to think about your parents, or whether they worry about you so far from home; of course they do. The Foreigner is good and filial and a wonderful daughter. You can craft her into any shape you like. But it also marks you out again and again, endlessly and again, as Other.

There was a paper published a while ago that showed measures of acceptance of non-natives in native-speaking communities. It highlights a strange, but familiar experience to those who have lived abroad - the people who spoke the language to a medium level felt more accepted and less lonely than those that spoke the language to a high degree. It makes sense, and mirrors what I have found with both Chinese and German. When you speak a little Chinese, you are a wonder - a curiousity! Look at the Western girl go! People are kind, and curious, and will slow down to include you in conversations. You are thrilled with what you can access - all this knowledge, that other people don't have! Look how special you are!

And then you get better. And then you realise, cut by cut, that you will never be one of them. You don't want to be Chinese, per se; but you do want to be accepted. You are happy to be British; but you miss China like a wound, an old one, festering, even when it was never yours. How do you tell your family that you are not grieving a lost romance, a beautiful girl, but a language and a life? That there are words of majesty, of playfulness, that will never be yours? You speak well enough that people no longer bother to dumb things down, or explain them; you sit with your discomfort, smile painted on, because - you know. It's not bad. You understand most of it. And on the edge of that circle, smiling uncertainly, following the vast majority of what is being said, you are not clever enough and not witty enough to keep up with the chengyu, the cultural references, the slang, and the raucous laughter around you erupts, and you don't know what you've missed, and everybody says - she's quiet, that one. Maybe all the foreigners are? And all you are doing is sitting and feeling the distance between You and Them as heavy and as stifled in your chest as an ocean of dark.

So you go back. Back to your people. But when you sit with the other foreigners, you are apart. They laugh; what are these nutters doing? The Chinese don't make any sense. The Chinese do this - they do that. You sit there, and then there is a pressure building in your chest too, a discomfort, the desire to stand up and say - well, actually.

You are responsible for everything the Chinese teachers do, and have to explain things in a way that the students understand - Confucian thought, and Buddhist philosophy, translated in pithy bite-size adages for the West. You have no qualifications for this; everything you assert, you feel unsure. Uncertain. Someone else could explain it better, more nuanced, and you need to do more reading anyway - but here you are, and here they are, and you're the only one. And you do know. Not enough, but enough that their jokes, their pains, make you uncomfortable. You feel the need to defend both parties; to be a diplomat, every second of every day. In turn, when the students come to the teachers with problems, you have to translate their grievances in a way that the Chinese teachers will be sympathetic towards. Once I got asked: why do you never join us after class? Why are you always so quiet when you're not working? As a translator, you are always working. Every time you speak, you are working; what you choose to say, and what you choose to not say, and where you choose to intervene. You are building relationships, and disappearing, and you are becoming invisible, and you're a nothing, and you're everyone and you're nobody and nobody realises you are doing anything more than translating at all.

I wanted to stay. I couldn't have stayed. I wanted to be accepted as one of them. I wanted to be accepted for who I was. That means a foreigner. I wanted to be true to myself, which means that I would always be the Foreigner, which means I would always be apart from them. It is that contrast and juxtaposition which causes the grief. And there was never an ending to it, a resolution, a chance to reconcile myself (in China) with myself (in the UK), because all at once I had to leave. The grief comes most from the second arrow - not the pain of leaving, but the bewilderment of not knowing why I was in pain at all.

It's been eight months. Slowly, as spring comes, I feel like I am on surer ground. I can look at my old books, those painstaking notes, and I could look at new ones too and I'm starting to think, because this is what I tell my students, and maybe there's some truth in it - it's okay if you're not perfect. It's okay if you didn't achieve what you wanted to, and that the language - in its wholeness, and who can ever know that? - will never, not quite, be yours. It's the struggle and the process that means that I will know and understand Chinese in a different way, in my own way, in a slanted-to-reality sort of way, that is a treasure in and of itself. There is beauty in its brokenness too.

And there is sorrow, too. The sorrow that comes with easing yourself into a different life, and it holding you gently for a while. I sat there - I spoke to them. It's not only missing a place; it's missing a person you were, a stage of your life, for a time. It's knowing that a place has reached inside your ribs and taken root there - even if you don't return, you can never fully get rid of that again. You are two people now, with feet straddling two oceans. There are parts of you that loved and suffered and hated and grew in Chinese, not English. You can't explain that. You can't even begin. Sometimes - not often - you are a stranger in your own land. The poets spoke of that. In the age of fast travel, of the weekend break, we have forgotten the ways a place can burrow itself inside you, and find its own home.

It's not the same as the grief that someone Chinese will face. But it's still grief. I have put my life into Chinese. Maybe that is all it takes to grow love.

Now, I turn back to Chinese - as a foreigner, as Melissa, as myself. It's a bittersweet thing. I know that I cannot hold all of it. It will spill out, like the sun, and there is no way I can be that without losing myself and my history and my own green woods. But I think I am ready now. I am surer, and a little steadier on my feet.

#langblr #chinese #languages #culture #china #:(((((((((((

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