#and i kept seeing words spelled with 'ti' and then a vowel with a little pronunciation note telling me to pronounce it [tj(vowel)]

[coquelicoq]

good news and bad news. the good news is i recently realized i've been pronouncing the letter 'a' wrong in most french words. this is good news because it means that i can now tell the difference between the french [a] sound and the 'a' sound in my native language that is closest to [a] ([æ]), which i guess i was unable to do before, or at least i was unable to tell that i was making the wrong sound. can't fix something you don't know is broken. but now i know!

the bad news is i recently realized i've been pronouncing '-ti-' followed by a vowel as [tj] in many french words where it should actually be [sj]. this is bad news because what the fuck, obviously, of course it is, get with the program brother!!

[keelywolfe]

FIC: In a Twinkling (baon, 12 days of Cheer)

Note:  For the 12 Days of Cheer!

Day #5: Decorations

Notes:  This one is Kustard for a change of pace and I don’t think the word ‘cheer’ quite applies. Melancholy would be more appropriate and a reminder that growing up in Underfell didn’t make for much of a childhood. A little citrusy at the end. 

Tags: Kustard, Alcohol Usage, Hurt/Comfort, Growing up in Underfell sucks

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Read it here!

~~*~~

Red’s front door was almost always locked; wasn’t much point in ever unlocking it, not when the two main occupants of the place didn’t need to use it. Sometimes Sans wondered if being able to shortcut was robbing him of a prime opportunity to gauge his relationship with Red, cause seriously, why bother giving him a key?

Thinking about that too long would give him indigestion in the guts he didn’t have and maybe he should take the fact that Red didn’t shove a bone through his socket whenever he shortcutted in as a sign of...well, something, anyway.

He always stuck to the doormat when he shortcutted in, not because he cared about tracking in anything on Red’s already dubious carpet but because it made it easier to find his damn shoes when they weren’t buried in whatever wreckage Red had scattered around. Today was about the same as any, bare walls except for the occasional hole through the drywall, a coffee table that was probably scrounged from the side of the road, covered in dirty dishes and fast food wrappers. It was sat in front of a swayback sofa that was currently occupied by everyone who actually lived in this shithole. Namely, Red and his damn cat.

Red didn’t even look at him. His head was tipped back on the sofa arm, his sockets closed, but only an idiot would think he was asleep. Sans might be a fool and proved it every time he came here, but idiot was a title he hadn’t earned. Not yet, anyway.

“nice to see you’ve done up the place for the holiday,” Sans said, prying off one of his snowy shoes with the toes of his other foot. He kicked it off, repeating the process on the other side even as he hissed at the cold against his bare bones. “they got those charlie brown trees on clearance down at the pharmacy in town.”

“don’ need a fucking tree.”

That made Sans hesitate. The way Red’s words slurred together was telling, a slurry of consonants in search of a vowel. That damn cat was sitting curled into a loaf on Red’s lap, purring rustily. Red could call it any name he liked, but in Sans’s mind it would always be that damn cat. Had its motor running pretty good right now, Sans could hear it purring from way over here.The cat opened one yellow eye, glaring at him balefully, daring him to try to unseat it.

Yeah, it was way too early to try anything like that. If this was gonna end without broken furniture, then Red would push the cat off his lap himself, and if it wasn’t, eh, Sans was fine with having a furry little hostage sitting between them. Gave him a few more seconds to dodge.

He sat on the opposite side of the sofa instead, sprawling out so his foot barely touched Red’s ankle. Not to play footsie, nah, he didn’t try any fancy footwork. But he left it there, like a conduit between them as he asked lightly, “not one of santa’s biggest fans, huh.”

Red snorted loudly. He shifted, rummaging next to him and pulled out a whiskey bottle from the couch cushions like a magician pulling a rabbit from a hat. The loud sloshing was a warning of an awful lot of empty space in it. “never met the guy. only nobles got to have a gyftmas in underfell. ain’t much point for anyone else. when you don’t got any food or a bed, you ain’t putting up lights.” He took a long pull off the bottle and Sans could see the flow of it underneath his jaw, guzzled so fast that a few drops splashed down before his magic could incorporate it.

He lifted the bottle in offering to Sans and he took it, but only drank a small swallow. What he wanted more was to keep the bottle until Red demanded it back. Could be immediately, sometimes it was. This time, Red only slumped back against the sofa arm again, gazing pensively up at the ceiling. “but there was this one time…”

His hand never paused in its stroking, the damn cat purring so loudly Sans had to strain to hear Red. “we were still living in new home in those days, mostly. back then, we didn’t go any further than hotland and paps hated that place, whined and bitched so much i usually went there alone. so we hung around town together, kept in the alleys and shit.” Red blinked slowly, once, and the soft diffusion of his eye lights seemed less from the booze than memory taking over. “this’s before we found the dump, even. shit got a little better, then. less havin’ to steal and more’n sellin’ the junk i could fix up. i ain’t no engineer but i don’t do too bad--”

It was damn hard not to prompt him to go back to ‘this one time’, but Sans was afraid to speak. One word and he might break the spell, get this memory stuffed back into the overflowing closet of Red’s mind, and he’d bet hard G that Red would never bring this up again, no matter how much he drank. He sat, statue-still, listening to Red ramble and the damn cat’s engine revving until he thought he’d lose his mind. He almost missed it when Red did wander back, words slipping over his drifting thoughts until they jolted him back.

“it was cold that day and i left paps bundled up with all the blankets in one of our better hidey holes. figured i’d try to find us somethin’ to eat. most places threw away at least some food at the end of the night, and if ya were quick enough, you could get your share. i was on the main walkway, didn’t usually use it, but it was so damn cold even the beggars were takin’ the night off. and that’s when i walked past it. muffet’s bakery.” He sounded dreamy and far away, lost in the cloudy memories of childhood. “she had these lights up. i’d never seen anythin like ‘em before, tiny and twinkling, like stars are supposed t’ be. they’d painted the front window to look like snowflakes were fallin, only any snow i’d seen never looked like that, big snowflakes with patterns i never dreamed of. and right up front in these trays were piles and piles of gingerbread cookies. every one of ‘em was decorated different, weren’t two alike in the whole pile and there musta been a hundred, two hundred of those fuckin things, sitting there behind the glass and fake snowflakes. i thought i could even smell ‘em, was drooling on my damn shoes, lookin’ at those things.”

“what did you do?” Sans’s voice sounded strange, too loud, wrong in the midst of the past.

It was enough to yank Red back to the present. He snorted loudly, slanting Sans a look. “what the fuck could i do? i threw a fucking brick thru the window, grabbed some cookies, and ran.” He sank back again, scratching the cat under its chin maybe a little too hard, but it only purred on. “wasn’t worth it; we were on the move for weeks after that, couldn’t hardly stop to sleep. muffet almost got paps once, and after that, i took him to waterfall. wasn’t worth it.”

He trailed off moodily, staring empty-eyed at the ceiling, but Sans wasn’t entirely convinced, thinking back on a coupla faded memories of his own. “how did they taste?”

That got him a startled look. “what?”

“the cookies. how did they taste?”

Red’s mouth worked for a moment, sharp teeth gnashing, and here was the part where he might say something awful, that volcano of anger in his soul would erupt. He’d spew out a lava flow of bitterness and cruelty, and Sans’s would have to decide if he was going to take it or if he was gonna hang up his hoodie for the night.

Instead, Red threw back his head and laughed, his entire body quaking with it. “they were the best fucking cookies i ever ate!”

That thrashing laughter was enough for the cat. He hopped off Red’s lap, giving both of them a snooty look before wandering off to see if any kind elf left him some tuna in his dish. An empty lap was a terrible thing to waste and Sans crawled into Red’s, straddling him.

“know somethin?” Sans murmured, draping both arms around Red’s neck. Hands settled on his hips, fingertips pricking sharp even through his shorts. “sounds to me like you just need some better experiences with decorations.”

Later, when he was riding Red and trying to keep his balance with both hands tied behind his back with a shiny strand of garland, Sans was the one snarling and swearing. The Santa hat perched crookedly on his skull was making him sweat, his knees were aching, and Red only lay there, grinning up at him and letting him do all the damn work.

“come on, harder,” Sans panted, “get your elf on my shelf.”

Red laughed, rough and gleeful, and he wasn’t thinking of any awfulness from the dregs of childhood when he panted out, “that don’t even make any fucking sense!”

“harder!” Sans snapped, and the glitter in Red’s eye lights as he did, bright and fierce and wild, was better than any shitty light on any tree.

-finis-

[snibnoom]

Conlang: Na’poshi

According to the Royal Library of Brenlin, Na’poshi is “the language of the gods.” It is the oldest known language in the world, and though it is now considered a dead-language, scholars often study it and debate its origins. To those who are religious, it is the language that was gifted to the first beings of the world. To those who see past religion, it is the language of a now-lost world-conquering civalization.

Na’poshi is a conlang I’ve just only started working on yesterday, but I love it already. I’ve had to learn a lot very fast, but it’s been a blast. I’d say it’s currently very much in the proto-stages, so I have a lot of work to put into it. But this is the state it’s in currently!

For the sounds in Na’poshi, I kept it very simple. There are only 13 consonant sounds, 3 main vowel sounds, and 6 diphthongs. There’s a bit of necessary romanization, of course.

I haven’t bothered trying to make a writing system yet, but I will once I get the language to a point where I’m happy with it.

Currently, Na’poshi is a head-final language. All the important bits come after the other stuff. The most notable of this is that the word order is SOV (subject-object-verb). In English, it’s SVO. If I’m not mistaken, Korean is also a head-final language.

Words in Na’poshi are constructed in a specific way, too. No syllable can have a coda (an ending consonant). Syllables can be V or CV (vowel only or consonant-vowel). Hawaiian also doesn’t allow codas in its syllables. Additionally, stress on Na’poshi words falls on the 3rd to last syllable, unless the 2nd syllable contains a diphthong.

In addition to the usual grammatical things we have in English (singular vs plural nouns; present, past, future tenses; and valency), I also included a dual marker and a habitual tense. The dual marker signals exactly two of a noun. This happens in Greek, as well as some other languages. The habitual tense shows that something happens regularly or is a known fact. Which leads us to the name of the language.

A few things before I get into writing words for the language. Words between [brackets] are how they’re spelled according to the IPA. A “.” within brackets marks the space between syllables. The words in “quotations” are the English meanings.

Nalu, [na.lu] - verb. “to live, to be alive” Po, [po] - verb. “to be”

Combining the two above, with the addition of a glottal stop* (ʔ) between, gives us the Na’poshi word for life: na’po - [naʔ.po].

Shi,  [ʃi] - verb. “to follow”, adpos. “before, in front of”

The Na’poshi verb shi, when attached to the end of another word, is interpreted as meaning “before.” Hence, Na’poshi literally means “life before.” Or, “before life.”

Numbers in Na’poshi follow a Korean pattern. There’s a separate word for 0-9 (oa, ai, ia, to, sa, oi, ti, sha, ka, ao) and another word for ten (hoa). Eleven is literally 10-1 (hoa’ai), twelve is 10-2 (hoa’ia), and so on. The word for twenty is literally 2-10 (ia’hoa), as is thirty 3-10 (to’hoa), and so on. The word for 100 is poa, and the hundreds following follow the same pattern: 200 is literally 2-100 (ia’poa), 300 is literally 3-100 (to’poa).

The person saw two animals. = Hapo iasona paikosio.

Hapo, [ha.po] - noun. “person”

Ia-, [ia] - number. “two”

Sona, [so.na] - noun. “animal”

Paiko, [pai.ko] - verb. “to see”

-sio, [sio] - postposition. modifies verb into past tense.

I see the rock before you. = Sho kushi kakia paiko.

Sho, [ʃo] - pronoun. “I/me”

Ku, [ku] - pronoun. “you”

-shi, [ʃi] - postposition. “before”

Kakia, [ka.kia] - noun. “rock”

Paiko, [pai.ko] - verb. “to see”

The animal will sit on a big rock. = Sona xo kakia tisoka.

Sona, [so.na] - noun. “animal”

Xo, [xo] - adjective. “big”

Kakia, [ka.kia] - noun. “rocky”

Tiso, [ti.so] - verb. “to sit”

-ka, [ka] - postposition. modifies verb into future tense.

*Glottal stops don’t really happen in normal English words. We do it when we say “uh-oh,” though! The little catch between “uh” and “oh” is a glottal stop.

[fictrashheap]

Dancing with the Devil (Unedited)

Sometimes good by itself cannot defeat darkness. And sometimes it is necessary to fight evil with evil in order to save the world. Jack discovers this and more in his tenuous alliance with Aku. 

Chapter 21

The wizard was suddenly quiet, pinned beneath Jack's soulful gaze. What was the samurai thinking? Why couldn't he discover what the samurai was thinking? He was simply a soft little mortal creature hardly worth the effort of manipulating to fulfill his own agenda, yet there was something more to it then that—an infuriating inability for him to fully comprehend his own pawn. It was maddening and intriguing and each sentiment served to bolster the other until Aku found it difficult to even look at his samurai nemesis without the pendulum continually swinging from anger to curiosity. The samurai's father had been a self-righteous little wretch, but the samurai himself was different, of a harder and more insolent ilk than his sire. Audacity, that's the word he was looking for. His nemesis possessed an outright audacity and it drove him into a fine rage each time he had to face it. No mortal had ever been so audacious in his presence.

Only the samurai dared his wrath. Only the samurai could—  

The sudden slap of cold against Aku's face startled him and he jerked his head back in a mixture of indignation and bewilderment. His scarf unravelled with the abruptness of his retreat and hung limply in Jack's hand, only moved by a teasing breath of wind to fill the ensuing silence with the occasional flutter of clothing. The samurai's fingers, calloused from years of swordsmanship, lightly grazed his exposed throat and settled under the ridge of his helmet to tilt his head back into a vulnerable alignment with Jack's face. The press of lips dispelled any discomfort from the cold, now unimpeded by any protective demon aura.  

Aku inhaled deeply as he pulled away, furious at himself for being caught so badly off-guard. "Gods flay your miserable hide, samurai," he breathed in a low rumble and watched with detachment as every word condensed in the chilly morning air. "Even after all that I have said you still possess the insolence to defy my prophecy?" The demon tightened his hands into wrathful fists, angry at the samurai and himself and their situation in general.                

Jack didn't bat an eye when he caught Aku's wrist and with the absent ease of long familiarity he twisted the demon's arms behind his back and managed to pin his hands against his spine in one smooth, decisive motion. Aku only had the time to look surprised before the space between them vanished and any snide insults he would have made were swallowed up by astonished silence.

The wizard was completely surprised and realized it was the first time he had been in close proximity to any mortal before. From far away they appeared so clumsy and fragile with their flimsy bones and pitiful stature, but now their positions were reversed, and it was he who felt flimsy in comparison to the samurai's battle-hardened musculature, so unyielding after years of strife and hardship. For one strange moment he felt relaxed this way, utterly boneless, before the familiar anger reasserted itself.    

"How dare you!"  

"Why do you even pretend to be angry at this stage?" Jack asked, amused and genuinely puzzled. "It would seem redundant now, do you not think so?"

"I am angry! I am furious with you!" Aku curled one side of his lip and turned away to regard the fortress before him with stoic contempt. "Stop wasting time, samurai, those Celts hunger for demon blood and I intend to answer their insolence." He ascended up the path with squared shoulders.

Jack followed, hands hidden within the folds of his sleeves. He reached out when he matched Aku's pace and clutched the demon's shoulder. "No," he said firmly and took the lead, "your arrogance will not get us killed." The warrior passed beneath the magnificent frosted arch and was greeted by a square courtyard with a pile of stones placed in its centre. Birds sang in the emptiness, echoed oddly in the uninhabited halls of the ancient fortress. Jack shivered as he stepped gingerly onto the packed earth, still solid even after countless ages of neglect. He could sense a presence in here, something unsaid resonated within each stone used to build this place. He couldn't discern what it was, but he could feel it intimately in his being. An acknowledgement.

Dagaz and Deirdre stood idly by the ruined stones and both looked up to watch them enter the fortress. The big Celt shook his head in disgust and spat into the snow while his wife remained motionless, her tiger eyes unreadable beneath the sharp edge of her helmet. Jack could tell from the silence behind him Aku was wary. "Where are these trees?" He asked and waved his left hand towards the pile of stone. "Surely they are not within this fortress?"

Both Celts shared a significant look and it was Deirdre who answered. "The druids believed trees held special powers. There are folks who tell of a series of tunnels below this fort built before the Romans ever stepped foot here. That's where the trees are. Underground. Have a care, these are not natural trees. This is where the Forest King was slain and whatever is still down there seethes over it. The earth has a long memory, lad. It's a dark place down there." Deidre made a strange little sigh. "Dagaz and I can't follow ya any further. We've shown you the way, but the way's closed to us. We'll stay here and guard your back."

"You shoulda listened to me, li'le warrior," the hunter rumbled darkly beneath the ghastly skull, "he will attract things down there in that place." They both appeared disappointed but resigned to Jack's decision. Something the samurai was grateful for. He nodded his head to them both for their assistance and approached the square's centre but always kept himself between Aku and Dagaz.

"I thank you both for all your assistance, you have helped me immeasurably." He bowed his head in gratitude.

"Do us a favour and don't die," Deirdre muttered gruffly with forced nonchalance.

"Aye, it would make a good story over a pint," Dagaz added and swung his hammer over his shoulder. "It would be a shame if you took such a good tellin with you into the afterlife."

Jack's scowl gave way to a weary smile. "I will try." He bowed again but it was wasted upon the two Celts, who swarmed him with caution and good-natured admonitions. "Please," he pulled away from their unbridled affection, "how do I enter such a place?"

Deirdre pursed her lips, but her eyes had quickened. In her armour she appeared far more dangerous than her husband. "There's a hidden entrance about. Tis a cursed place, Jack, I won't lie to ya. It's damned and dark beneath these stones." She cast a complex glance at Dagaz. "Light a torch here and the hate of this place will eat ya alive. The Forest King was loved and whatever grows underneath isn't forgiving."

"Here," Dagaz lifted his enormous hammer and walked toward a particularly ornate arch. "Tis here you'll need to go." Jack followed his mountainous bulk and squinted into the shady reaches of the fortress. There was a battered soldier carved into the wall. Hard eyes gazed out from the lost centuries, eyes that sized Jack up. At his scornful feet rested a thick slab of marble, rosy and rare. Imported from the balmy Mediterranean basin. A solid remnant of an empire lost to the pages of history. The samurai bent down and examined it for a hidden trigger. There was none. He looked to Dagaz for an explanation, but the big Celt was looking at Aku, features tight and inscrutable. These ruins unnerved him far more then the one they had passed before.

The samurai frowned but continued to examine the small square of marble. The Roman soldier gazed down at him, stony face imperial. There was an eerie knowledge to the carving, something that not quite stone. Jack knew magic when he saw it. He turned to Dagaz and spoke, if only to distract the big Celt's alarming gaze. "There is a spell here. If this place is cursed, should such a thing be broken?"

"No, there is no need to damage it." Deirdre muttered. "Dagaz knows the words." The hunter spared his wife a complex look, but he turned to Jack and nodded.

"Aye, I remember."

Aku shot the hunter a glance, green eyes narrow. "Only demons know such things."

"And such fine help you've been!" Dagaz shot back. The wizard scowled, but hadn't the strength for idle prattle. Deirdre put a hand on his arm and the big Celt's body lost some of its tension, but his eyes burned with malevolence. He and Aku regarded each other for a long time before Dagaz faced the stone soldier and began to speak.

Dagaz had a low, guttural voice, but the words that emerged from his mouth were elusive and deeply unsettling. Jack strained to discern individual meanings, but syllables and vowels thundered past him like a polluted waterfall. He glanced over to see Aku was motionless behind him, gaze intensely green and unblinking. Jack realized he was watching something. Colours—like in their link? The samurai frowned. Despite his experience accessing the demon world was beyond him.

For a moment if felt like the stone wouldn't yield to Dagaz. Then a teeth-chattering grind shook the ground beneath their feet and the soldier shattered. Jack ducked instinctively and threw up an arm to protect his eyes. Rock pelted his exposed skin and promised to leave welts. A cloying grey dust was thrown up as the wall collapsed and shrouded them in a thick coat of dust. It was impossible to see, but Jack could hear Aku's breathing.  

"I can smell her." The demon hissed into his ear.  

Jack blinked rapidly and waved the dust away from his face. "What?"

Aku made an agonized groan and leaned closer. "She's been here. A long, long time ago…but she has been here."

"What?"        

"Yes." The demon was trembling, expression torn between revulsion and pleasure. "She has grown very powerful…."

Jack recalled the chaotic encounter with Gaia; his own and the dizzying recollections of his nemesis. What would it be like to meet the demonic god who made you? He shuddered, but didn't have an answer. Instead he pulled Aku to his feet and waited for the dust to settle. Dagaz and Deirdre hadn't moved, but they were crouched with their back to the wall. The snow was littered with rocks and fine debris. It looked like a volcano had sent ash raining down the mountainside.    

"Jack?" Deirdre's voice was faint.

"Yes. We are here." The samurai approached the Celts as they struggled to their feet. After Aku's outburst, he could feel something welling up from the deep, dark hole in front of them. The Roman wall had fallen away to reveal older foundations. A wooden hatch had covered it once, but had long since rotten away. Only a rectangular hole remained. Despite the light, it remained a featureless void. Jack squinted and stepped closer. There was no evidence of stairs. Only a presence rose from the black depths. It went beyond Aku's at the Roman ruins they had passed earlier. A deep and immortalized malevolence regarded them from the bowels of the earth. Jack swallowed and looked away.

Dagaz stood at his side. It was impossible to know what he was thinking. "So?" He asked after a moment.

"How did you know those words?" Aku asked. His voice was soft and had a visible affect on Dagaz. The big Celt looked at him.

Without speaking he withdrew a golden medallion that had been hidden under the layers of clothing. It shone under the sunlight, the sapphires perched on its surface glowed as blue as Dagaz's eyes. The sight of it was like a physical blow. Jack gasped and took a step backward. The shape, the colour, the jewels, the despairing figures….

"How?" He demanded. "I saw that in my dream."

"Gaia found you." Aku spoke the samurai's thoughts. "She caught you sneaking into this place." He eyed the Celt's helmet and his eyes suddenly widened. "That skull is how she kept you here. She took your face."

"To use as her avatar," Jack added softly. Aku shot him an alarmed glance. "You told me she challenged the gods, but if she had a disguise…." His dark eyes met Dagaz's. "She could do what she wanted without divine interference."

Deirdre approached them, sword dangling against her thigh. Her bright tiger eyes were blank with astonishment. "I never asked," she muttered softly, "and you said it was an accident. You said…." Her husband glanced at her, eyes heavy with silent messages.  

"It was," Dagaz suddenly spoke and threw the medallion to the ground. Its round design shone eerily amongst the snow drifts. He stood still, blue eyes glowing, and suddenly looked at Jack. "I like you. I do. I even tried to warn you…but it's done." He pointed at the medallion shining beside his feet. "It's touched the earth, now. She will come. He's made sure of it." He pointed to Aku.  

An ominous shiver ran through the crumbling fortress. Aku's head jerked up as if someone had called his name. The cold air crackled with an unseen danger. Another tremor rumbled through the ruins, more violently than the last. Jack clutched his katana as a jet of light burst from the medallion to punch through the overcast. It shredded the clouds. The sky became an unearthly purple-black bowl. A new sort of cold descended as the sun withered to a grey pinprick.  

Jack struggled to understand. He tore his eyes away from the column of light and gazed at Aku. The wizard's eyes reflected the sky's eerie sheen, his expression blank. There was so much power before him, but he was helpless to use it. One of Gaia's talismans had more power than he had in his entire being. Jack could see the realization. Jack could feel its weight. Despair crept over them all like the deep purple sky. It felt like time was slowing down.

Dagaz released a hoarse shout and smashed his hammer against the medallion. Instead of breaking, its energies exploded through his weapon, up his arms, and through his body. The sudden heat was blistering. Jack stumbled back, momentarily blinded, and bumped into Aku. The wizard's body was cool and unyielding against his back. The fuhai's work was nearly done. Deirdre regarded everything from the opposite side of the clearing. Her golden eyes were nearly perfect circles as her husband was consumed by demonic energy. The magic forced its way beneath his skin, made it glow and pulse like the transparent flesh of a newborn bird.  

"What is happening?" Jack howled over the roar of wind and power. Aku made no reply, deaf to everything but Dagaz's transformation. His eyes were unblinking, mesmerized.  

And then there was only darkness. The sky above was a charred and starless black. Jack felt it pushing down on his shoulders, sucking the strength from his limbs. An invisible tide washed across the fortress, numbing and pervasive. Jack felt he was drowning. There was no sun, no light, no warmth. The sky was a  godless black bowl, emptied of life and light.