#oops i meant posts plural | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bqstqnbruin · 3 years

Text

Rinks and rouxes

Ok we’re ignoring so many things here as we normally do when I drop a fic. So first, we’re ignoring the fact that the plural of roux is roux and not rouxes like I have in the title because it sounds weird with English. We’re ignoring typos because no matter how many times I try to catch them all, I never do. We’re ignoring that this is being posted at like three am as well. And then there has to be something else that I’m forgetting but whatever.

This is the longest fic I’ve written as a one off fic so I hope you like this! This is for the lovely @slapshot-to-the-heart for the @hockeynetwork winter gift exchange (sorry I didn’t get this to you sooner but I was a mess this semester with grad school oop).

Enjoy!

_________________________

You were excited for the first few days in a while where you didn’t have to wake up to an alarm. A few mornings to sleep in, the sunshine pouring in through the windows, Quinn’s snoring filling the room in the bed next to yours. The boys had rented a cabin for New Years, having a rare few days off before and after the holiday to mess around somewhere outside of Vancouver.

You were not expecting to be woken up three mornings in a row to a smoke alarm sounding in the kitchen because whoever made breakfast burnt something again.

You sit up, groaning, rubbing your eyes. “Do you think they caught something on fire or do you think we can risk staying in bed?”

Quinn sits up with a yawn, shaking his head. Before he can say anything, the alarm stops, yelling coming from the kitchen. “I think we should stay up here in case someone gets killed. Don’t wanna be a witness.”

The two of you laugh, the yells getting louder from the kitchen as the smoke alarm sounds again. “You guys make so much money and yet you insist on almost burning the house down every meal,” you say, watching Quinn get out of his bed, no shirt on. You tried not to stare at your best friend, but, fuck, seeing every inch of his torso just there, you were failing hard at not looking.

You grew up with Brock, getting introduced to his teammates shortly after moving to Vancouver for school, hitting it off with Quinn incredibly fast. To say that you had a crush on him was probably an understatement, falling hard and falling fast for the boy no matter how much you were convinced he didn’t feel the same about you. You figured whatever feelings you had would pass eventually.

But that was three years ago. The feelings had not faded.

And now, the two of you were sharing a room in this cabin, praying that what you smelled was not an actual fire coming from the kitchen. And he was just there, walking around your room without a shirt.

“Y/N?” Quinn calls from the bathroom, pulling you out of whatever fantasy you were about to dive into.

“Sorry, what?”

“Who do you think burnt the food this time?”

You laugh, trying to remember who the guys decided was cooking that morning, your mind completely forgetting about whatever thirsty feelings you had coming on with Quinn right there. “I think Jake was supposed to do something but Elias didn’t trust him.”

“I wouldn’t trust either of them to make us food.” he says, a cocky tone dripping in his voice.

“You act like you could do better when we both know you set off the alarm the first morning,” you chirp back, earning a scoff from him.

His phone starts buzzing on the nightstand between your beds, nearly falling off the small table. “Want me to get that?”

“Yeah, what is it?” Quinn yells over the water running from the sink.

You pick up the phone, your heart dropping immediately. “You have a new match! From Tinder!” you say, fake cheeriness dripping in your tone. “I didn’t know you were on Tinder?”

You hear him laugh, the water shutting off. “The guys thought I seemed lonely so they made me an account. It’s not like I ever use it.”

“Hm. See. Here’s the thing,” you start, handing him his phone as he approaches, plopping down on your bed to probably look at the new match, “You don’t get matches on Tinder unless you both swipe right, which means you had to have been using it.” He shrugs, not looking up from his phone. “I didn’t know you just wanted hook ups,” you let out, trying to hide the pain in your voice with a teasing tone. If he wanted to hook up, that would mean he wasn’t interested in a relationship, which meant he didn’t like you the way you like him. Why were you even thinking about that? Why were you letting yourself spiral?

“I do not. And before you say, ‘well that’s what Tinder is for,’ because I know you and I know that was going to be the next thing out of your mouth,” Quinn says, a smirk on his face as you roll your eyes at him, slightly blushing because he was right, “I definitely want a relationship but the boys thought this would be a good start.” You swear you saw his eyes flick down to your lips for a moment, leaning in ever so slightly. You had to be imagining this, your still crush on him causing you to make things up in your mind.

“Quinn! Y/N!” interrupts you from the other side of your thankfully locked door, as you practically launch yourself off your bed to see Brock on the other side. “I didn’t interrupt anything did I?” he asks, a stupid smirk on your face causing heat to run to your cheeks.

“No,” you say, even though you were sure your face was giving everything away.

“We made breakfast,” he says, moving aside and gesturing for the two of you to join what sounded like the rest of the team down in the kitchen.

“Are you sure about that? The smoke alarm says otherwise,” Quinn chirps, throwing a shirt on as he takes your hand and pushes past Brock. You could hear the sharp inhale that came from Brock, knowing that you would be hearing about this later. You can’t help but smile as the boys start to chirp each other, your heart racing until Quinn drops your hand, the smell of pancakes and burnt toast hitting your nose as soon as the three of you get to the kitchen. “So who fucked up this morning?” Quinn asks, trying to find plates for the two of you.

“Jake,” the guys chorus, forcing a laugh out of you and Quinn while you watch the teammate in question turn bright red.

“It’s not my fault!” he tries to defend himself.

“You didn’t even just burn it, you caught it on fire,” Thatcher yells through a mouthful of what you hoped was not the toast.

“Do you even see any food for us to eat?” you whisper to Quinn, trying to look over the boys shoulders for anything that seemed edible.

Quinn shakes his head, rolling his eyes as the boys continue. “Well whose idea was it to have me make toast?” Jake asks.

“We thought you were smart enough to use the toaster and not hold the bread over the open flame on the stove,” Petey mumbles, you and Quinn trying to hold back your laughter.

“So, where is the food that Y/N and I can eat?” Quinn asks, trying to get the boys’ attention.

“I think we ate it all,” Brock says, a smirk on his face.

“Then why did you come get us?” you ask him, clearly annoyed with him.

“We had to make sure you weren’t doing anything inappropriate behind that locked door of yours,” Brock says, the rest of the guys acting like children at the thought.

Quinn scoffs, walking towards the stairs, “Ok, one, no one talks like that, two, Y/N and I are going out for breakfast, anyone who wants to come, be ready in the next 15 minutes.”

You watch him leave, praying that someone else would get up to go get ready. “Looks like you’ve gotta go get ready for your breakfast date with your boy,” Brock teases, the boys now laughing at you. You hated that your feelings for Quinn were no secret. At least, it seems like it was known to everyone but him, but why did that matter?

“It is not a date,” you start, only to hear Jake yell, “yes it is,” behind you. You turn to him, pointing at him. “Remember that I played soccer growing up so I can kick you really hard if I have to,” you start, the smirk on his face changing to slight terror, “so if burning that toast didn’t kill you, I can.”

You turn on your heels to go get ready, even more nervous about going out with Quinn since Brock had to go and call it a date when Jake yells, “I didn’t mean to burn the toast!”

“You still did it, though,” you yell down, shutting the door behind you. You were panicked now, completely freaking out. As much as you told yourself it wasn’t a date, Brock’s annoying voice still rang through your ears, ‘your breakfast date with your boy.’ Fuck Brock. You start to change, realizing that Quinn could come out of the bathroom at any minute and see you half naked, more panic washing over you. You set your phone on the bed, grabbing clothes and try to figure out where to change. “Hey, Q? Can I get in the bathroom to change?”

He opens the door, no shirt on yet again. This was not fair. You weren’t even sure how you ended up having to share a room with him in the first place, let alone what you did to have him walk around shirtless every day. You practically run into the bathroom before you can do something stupid, shutting the door and leaning against it. You let out a deep sigh, saying, “Fuck,” in the breath, cursing who evers idea it was the bring you here and put you in this room instead of in one with Brock, or in one all on your own.

You shake your head of the thoughts of whatever he was doing out there. He was your friend, just like Brock was. Nothing more, nothing less. And you needed to be ready soon if you wanted to get breakfast since the idiots downstairs burned any semblance of what would be edible. You try to force any thoughts of Quinn from your mind, pulling on leggings and a sweater.

“Hey, Y/N?” you hear Quinn call, “You’re getting texts.”

You open the door, starting to brush your teeth as you call to him, “You know my passcode, who are they from?”

“Brock.”

You stop brushing, terror and an urge to murder him rushing through you. “What do they say?” you ask him, thankful you had your toothbrush in your mouth to cover up the anger that would otherwise be taking over your tone.

“‘We all know you two are going to date,’” he reads, “and ‘If you don’t kiss him tonight, I will.’” You were officially going to kill Brock. “Who are you going to date?”

You position yourself so you can see his reflection in the mirror of the bathroom. He was almost pouting, his eyebrows knit together in frustration. He wasn’t mad about those texts, was he? He didn’t know they were about him, right? “Uh, just this guy Brock and I know from home. He was joking about inviting him here tonight,” you lie to him, hoping he would buy it. He nods, scrunching his face up. “You know he’s not coming, right? I mean, he’d have to get here from Minnesota.”

He nods again, handing you your phone as you come out of the bathroom, letting you send a quick death threat text to Brock. “You ready?”

“Just need a coat,” you tell him. He takes your hand, leading you back down the stairs. You had to pass the kitchen to get out to the cars, passing the guys with your hand in Quinn’s.

Quinn stops without warning, you crashing into him in surprise. The guys gaze went to your hand in his, pretty much ignoring his words as he said, “So is anyone coming with us?” No one says anything, Brocks mouth falling open as he readjusts his hand in yours, clearly holding it tighter. The look on his face told you that you would not be living this down, forcing a mental note to turn your phone off as soon as you get in the car. “Awesome, text us if you need anything,” Quinn says, dragging you over to the door.

“Ok, your mood changed,” you point out, putting on your coat and practically running to catch up with Quinn at the car.

“No, it didn’t,” he snaps, getting in the car. You climb into the passenger seat next to him, looking at him stare at the steering wheel in front of him. He turns to look at you, his mouth in a thin line, “The boys are just annoying me lately, I don’t know.” You cock your eyebrow, telling him that you didn’t believe him. “Ok, fine,” he says, starting the car up, “They made me get on Tinder when I have no reason being on it and seeing Brock’s texts to you made me think about the texts they send to me about-” he rambles, cutting himself off. He looks out the window, turning his attention to the road in front of you.

“About who?” you ask. The boys wouldn’t tell him that you liked him, would they? They would have no reason to be trying to egg him on about asking you out, right? Then again, if Brock would do that to you, who’s to say that he wouldn’t also do it to his teammates who he easily had a closer relationship with and spent more time with.

“About the girls on Tinder,” he breathes out, you also letting the breath you had no idea you were holding in. Part of you wished he said you. At least that way you could get a read on what he thought about the idea of you two being together. If it was disgust then you could put the whole crush to rest.

“I mean, if it’s Brock, just point out that the only women in his life are his dogs, me, and his family,” you try to reassure him, pulling a laugh from his lips. “But he would also probably say that he’s fine with it, so you might have to think of something better.”

Quinn nods, a small smile on his face. You just wanted to know what was really going on inside his head, because what he told you was definitely not it. It’s not like you could pressure him about it, though. He wouldn’t answer you if you tried to get more out of him, so what was the point? The two of you drive the rest of the way in silence, finally finding a diner that you could find a parking spot in front of and walk in. At this point, both of you were starving, already praying that they had the classic breakfast food you could order as soon as the server would come over to you.

You were seated in a booth by the window, looking out across the street to a small pond that was now covered with ice thanks to the cold Vancouver winter. It had to be thick enough to withstand the weight, because you could see a who you assumed to be a father with his two little girls skating around on the ice. They looked like they were showing him some sort of figuring skating routine, the smaller girl raising her hands over her head in a ‘ta-da’ fashion, the dad lifting her off the ice and into the air, spinning her around before kissing her cheek and putting her back down to chase her sister. You couldn’t help but smile, completely forgetting about the menu in front of you.

“What are you thinking about?” Quinn asks, reaching across the table to touch your hand.

You barely even notice the warmth of his hand on yours, for some reason feeling all too comfortable by his touch, but you were lost in the memory and thoughts the scene on the pond had brought up. “Have you ever seen the movie ‘Holiday in Handcuffs’ with Mario Lopez and Melissa Joan Hart?”

“Nope,” he says, popping the ‘p’ at the end of the word, a smile on his face as he gets ready to listen to you.

“So, it is your classic tale of Stockholm Syndrome,” you say, both of you laughing, “But basically, she kidnaps him to impress her parents that she has this great boyfriend compared to her perfect brother and sister and they fall in love. There’s this one scene where they’re standing out on the back porch and she’s talking about how one Christmas Eve she had this big figure skating recital but it got cancelled because of a snow storm, so her dad made a rink in the backyard so she could perform it for them. Mario Lopez’s character surprises her the next morning by making an ice rink so they could skate around together.”

You look over at Quinn, not even realizing that you had been watching the dad and his daughters the entire time. He had this soft smile on his face, for a moment forgetting that you two were out in public until the waitress came over to take your order.

“Tell me more about this ice rink,” he asks you once she leaves.

All you can really do is shrug. “I don’t know. Him making the ice rink just seemed like such a romantic gesture. If a guy did that for me, I think I would melt,” you tell him.

“Just like the ice would,” Quinn jokes, leaning back as the waitress comes with your food.

“I hated that. I hated that so much,” you joke, both of you laughing as your phone buzzes on the table, interrupting whatever moment may or may not have been there. You sigh, seeing Brock’s name pop up yet again. He had to get tired of this constant teasing about you and Quinn at some point, right?

“Brock again?”

You throw your head back, letting out a groan that you hoped only Quinn could hear. “Since Jake burnt the toast this morning, he is now no longer allowed to make dinner tonight.”

“Tell them to order something then, we can pick it up?”

“Nope. Brock told the guys about the mac and cheese that I used to make when we were in high school and now they all want it. Something tells me there is virtually nothing in that house that lends itself to being mac and cheese.” Brock keeps sending more and more texts about how your ‘date’ is going with all the hand holding you two had to be doing, prompting none other than an eye roll from you as you shove your phone in your coat pocket. “So now I need to get to the store at some point.”

Quinn looks at the window, watching the father pick up his daughters and carry them to his car. He smiles, turning back to you, “When we’re done, do you think Brock can take you? I have to take care of something.”

“Uh, sure?” you say in response, texting Brock to pick you up from the diner. Quinn’s mood shifted, becoming much more animated than he had been earlier. He kept looking between you and the frozen pond, the smile never leaving his face.

He doesn’t stop talking the rest of breakfast, paying and leaving as soon as Brock pulls up to take you to the store. “So how was the date?” Brock smirks as soon as your door is closed, watching Quinn practically sprint to his car and drive off.

“If you keep this up then you aren’t going to see the New Year,” you threaten.

“We all know you two are going to get together, we just don’t know why you haven’t acted on it.”

“What was at the house from the recipe I sent you?” you ask him, praying that he’ll drop the subject.

“Nothing and you aren’t dodging this subject.”

“You don’t even have milk?”

“You saw what breakfast was this morning. And since you won’t admit the obvious here, we have a plan for tonight.”

Nothing good could come of those words. You knew Brock well enough to know that any plan he came up with would end in disaster. And his teammates were just an extension of his idiocy. “Please don’t. If you love me at all you will not do anything,” you beg him.

“I never said I was going to do anything,” he teases. You glare at him, only resulting in him laughing at you as he pulls into a grocery store.

You let out a deep breath, knowing today was going to be a long day. “Get flour and salt and then whatever else you guys want for food. You’re paying,” you tell him, practically running into the store just to get away from him. There was no way you were going to spend the entire time being heckled about the crush you didn’t want to have in the first place. It’s not like it was reciprocated, anyway. You could feel your phone buzzing in your pocket, dreading what Brock was texting you. ‘Do me a favor: grab your favorite wine and those sugar cookies you like.’ came from Jake.

You would be lying if you said you weren’t surprised it came from him instead of Quinn, but who were you to judge? ‘Can I ask why?’

‘Just want to make tonight special ;)’

Don’t like that.

You shake it off, debating on even getting what he asked you for. Why would Jake ask you to get your favorite stuff? That seemed so out of character for him, at least in his interactions with you. You grab what you need for the mac and cheese, not even sure how much you should make considering how many boys were there in the house. You wander off to find Brock, praying that he actually got what you need. “This is not where you find flour.” He turns around, holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers, including the wine and cookies Jake had texted you to grab. “When I said flour this is not what I meant. What are you doing?”

“Jake wanted me to make sure I got these for you,” he tells you, handing them over to you.

You stare at him for a minute, your face scrunched. This had to be part of whatever scheme they were planning to get you and Quinn together. No part of you wanted their meddling, but you knew that the more you tried to fight it, the worse it was going to end up for you. “How long would I be in jail if I just killed you all?”

“A few life sentences depending on how many murders you committed,” he shrugs, walking away from you.

You didn’t even want to talk to him at this point, pissed off at the fact that they were all scheming against your wishes. You grab what you need, including some stuff for baking, figuring the longer you kept yourself busy, the less likely you were to to harm the idiots you were spending time with.

“You bought apple cider and cream cheese for mac and cheese?” Brock questions, holding up the gallon at check out.

“Apple cider no, one of the cream cheeses, yes. You wanted me to make mac and cheese, let me make mac and cheese. I was gonna make apple cider cupcakes for everyone.”

The two of you get back to the house, which was strangely quiet considering how many of the guys were there. You start getting to work on the cupcakes, figuring it was too early to start dinner. You get out everything the real owners of the house had to bake with, figuring that you could focus on this instead of whatever bullshit was going to face you that night.

You get lost in baking, measuring and mixing when you hear footsteps coming down the stairs. You didn’t care who it was, as long as it wasn’t Brock.

“Need help?”

You look up to see Jake leaning against the counter, his head resting in his hand. “After you caught the toast on fire this morning, I don’t think so.”

The two of you laugh, falling into a conversation. Of all of Brock’s teammates, you probably had spent the least amount of time with Jake. It was nice; he was weirdly easy to talk to, somewhat flirty if you were reading him right. If he was showing interest in you when Quinn wasn’t, who cared?

“Can I at least help with the frosting? I can’t burn that,” he begs, coming up right next to you. He juts out his bottom lip, batting his eyes as you stand there with the bowl, knowing that you didn’t want to whip the frosting yourself.

You let out a deep sigh, handing him the whisk, “Fine. Get the cream cheese soft and then add in that vanilla and the powdered sugar.” He gets to work, you hopping up to sit on the counter next to him while the cupcakes are in the oven. “Why did you ask me to get my favorite stuff at the store?”

He shrugs, a smirk on his face while he continues to whip the cream cheese. “You put up with us teasing you about Quinn so I figured you could use something that you enjoyed.” You can’t help but smile at his words, not even getting the chance to say anything before he continues, “So who are you kissing tonight?”

“What?”

“It’s New Years Eve. Who are you kissing at midnight?”

You sit up a little straighter at his question, not even thinking about it before. “I don’t know.”

Jake stops whisking, the sound of another set of footsteps coming down the stairs. “Would you mind if I kissed you then?” You sit there for a moment, shocked. He knew you liked Quinn, right? You start to stammer out an answer, none of it coherent when he turns his attention from you to whoever just came into the kitchen. “Unless there was someone else Y/N should be kissing tonight, Quinn?”

You twist around to see Quinn turning red, looking at you sitting so close to Jake, your leg obviously touching his side with the way you were twisted. “I don’t know why you would be asking me that,” he seethes, going over to the now beeping oven. “Want me to take these out?”

You nod, hopping off the counter to check if they were done, putting the first batch on top of the stove to cool, the next batch in to bake. “So, Y/N. You and me kissing at midnight, then?”

You stand up, your back towards both of them. If Quinn had wanted to kiss you, then he would have said something. “I guess so, Jake,” you say, going back over to him to help him with the frosting.

Quinn stands there, not sure what to do. There was no way you could be kissing his teammate tonight. He opens his phone, storming off before you could get the chance to ask him what was wrong.

Jake eventually leaves you once the cupcakes are done, leaving you to start the mac and cheese the boys wanted. You start making the roux when you hear the front door slam, someone’s overly obnoxious laugh floating through the house. Whoever it was came into the kitchen, startling you while you were starting the melt down the cubes of cream cheese.

“Hi!” comes from behind you, an overly peppy high pitched voice, a skinny redhead appearing in the doorway. “I’m Katie!”

You had no idea who this was, looking past her to see Quinn behind the two of you, nervous and practically shaking. “She’s my date for tonight.”

“Oh!” you let out, turning the burner down and putting down the whisk. “I had no idea you were bringing a date! I’m Y/N,” you tell her, feeling less and less bad about agreeing to kiss Jake tonight.

“What are you doing?” she asks, practically on top of you.

“Making the roux for the mac and cheese tonight.”

“Rue? I thought that was when you made someone regret something. You know, like in iCarly?”

You turn to her, doing everything in your power to not burst out laughing at her reference. You swear you could hear Quinn muttering something under his breath, his head in his hands as he leaned against the counter. “That’s r-u-e, I’m making a r-o-u-x. It’s the base for the cheese part of mac and cheese.” She cocks her head to the side, looking between you and the pot on the stove. “You know, I think some of the guys are out on the porch with some beer, you should go join them,” you suggest.

“Ok!’ she says, bouncing away.

You turn to Quinn, your eyes wide and a mocking smile covering your face. “Well she’s just adorable. Where did you find her?” You knew you were being petty, but no part of you cared.

“Tinder,” Quinn mumbles.

“Come here,” you tell him, handing him a spoon to start stirring the pasta. “Why did you find a date all of a sudden?”

“Well who am I supposed to kiss at midnight now that you’re kissing Jake?” he snaps, some of the pasta water flying away from you.

“Brock?” you joke, earning a scoff from him. “Who did you intend on kissing? Me?”

He stares at the pot of water, shaking his head, “I guess I’m not now.” He puts the spoon down, leaving you stunned at the stove while he goes out with the rest of the guys. There was no way he wanted to kiss you that night. You couldn’t believe it. There was no way. You shake off the thought, finishing up the mac and cheese as the guys start coming in to ask where the food was.

Everyone sits around the table like they were this morning, Katie talking everyone’s ear off about something you weren’t paying attention to. Elias was sitting right next to her, looking like he was plotting her murder with every passing second. If she went missing that night, he was the first one you were going to blame.

“Hey,” Jake nudges you in the shoulder, taking you away from the trance you set yourself into, “You ok?”

“Yeah, just kinda tired. Someone woke me up with the smoke alarm again,” you tease, pulling a laugh from him. “I think I’m just going to go up stairs to mine and Quinn’s room.” You get up, Jake the only one seeming to notice that you were leaving the rest of the group.

You must have actually fallen asleep, awaken by someone pounding on the other side of the door. “It’s open,” you say, fumbling around to turn on the light.

Quinn opens the door slowly, poking his head in like he was afraid to see you. “It’s almost midnight. Are you gonna join?”

You nod, getting up to follow him down the stairs. The two of you reach the door to the backyard, Quinn stopping in front of you, bending down to grab the pair of ice skates that were by the door. “You’ll need these,” he smiles, taking your hand.

“What is this?” you ask when he opens the door, the guys playing a pick up game on a sheet of ice on the lawn.

“You said you thought it was romantic when a guy made his girl an ice rink in her back yard. So I made one for you,” he says, looking down at his feet, his face turning red.

“What? I have so many questions.”

He laughs, sitting down to put his own pair of skates on, you following suit. “Katie is with Jake right now, probably doing things that we don’t want to know about. Turns out the guys used Jake as a ploy to get me to finally ask you out, so when I figured that out, I asked Katie over so Jake could have someone to occupy him.”

“You want to ask me out?” you ask, not hiding the smile on your face.

“Oh, you are so oblivious,” he groans, a smile on his face, as well. “Of course I do.”

He picks you up to step on the ice, off to the side where the guys weren’t playing. Brock gets the puck past Thatcher, his hands in the air in celebration when Elias yells, “15 seconds!”

The guys start counting down to the new year, your heart racing with each second as Quinn’s hands wrap around your waist. “Would you rather have me or Jake?”

“Ten! Nine! Eight!”

“You really have to ask?”

“Seven! Six! Five!”

“Yes.”

“Four! Three! Two!”

You can’t help but roll your eyes, Quinn’s face centimeters from yours, your foreheads pressed against each other. “You.”

“One!” the guys around you yell once Quinn’s lips connect with yours, everything around you melting away.

“Happy new year, Y/N,” he whispers once he pulls away, stealing another quick kiss before the guys can pull you away from each other.

“Happy new year, Quinn.”

#winter gift exchange #hockeynetwork #quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagines #vancouver canucks #vancouver canucks imagines #canucks #canucks imagines #nhl #nhl imagines #hockey #hockey imagines

265 notes · View notes

maverick-werewolf · 4 years

Text

Werewolf Fact #51 - Magic Skins

Well, I broke 50 werewolf facts! But there’s still so much to cover! So here’s another one.

You’ve probably heard a lot - in media or otherwise - about werewolves in relation to magic skins, and vice versa. What’s up with that? Just how do animal skins relate to werewolves? Let’s find out...

Dat jaw workout tho.

Anyway, magic skins are actually pretty commonplace in werewolf folklore and mythology. The biggest source about them that you’ll hear of, no doubt, is Norse myth. Norse myth is pretty loaded with all kinds of stories related to animal skins - not least of which are the berserkers, of course, and the ulfhednar/ulfhedinn (depending on plural/singular). But I have a separate post on those. I recently expanded it a little! Be sure to check it out, because “berserker” doesn’t refer to a “bear warrior” like you probably think it does.

But I won’t go into that here; check the other post for that. For things bear-related (and more on magic skins, but not in relation to werewolves), also be sure to check my post on bear shapeshifters/”werebears.”

All that aside, though, one of the biggest actual stories we have that talk about magic skins is a story involving legendary figures Sigmund and Sinfjotli, who donned wolf skins one night that turned them into wolves - and then they couldn’t take them back off and reassume their human forms. They went on what’s now occasionally referred to as the “wolfs-ride,” (originally gandreið, which has nothing at all to do with wolves because it means more like “wand ride,” and means basically “staff ride,” more in association with the Wild Hunt - and again we see the negative bias inherent in modern scholars and translators against wolves), basically giving in to their bestial instincts and challenging each other to kill a certain number of people within an allotted time.

That, of course, didn’t always happen to everyone who turned into wolves using wolf-skins. Nor did everyone who donned a wolf skin directly turn into a wolf/werewolf, like Kveldulf, a warrior who was never actually described as changing shape (though he was said to do so!). He didn’t have to change shape, either, to have the strength of many men and beat up tons of people who made him mad. He’d get grouchier as the day went on, until, in the evening, his temper was terrible. But he was considered noble and good. I totally love Kveldulf, he’s awesome.

Generally speaking, a lot of werewolves and werewolf-like figures in Norse myth were associated with magic skins. You can find many lineages of various folks with Ulf (Norse for “wolf”) names, all of whom could turn into wolves. Or, as they say, “don the wolf shape.”

Now, not all werewolves and wolf shapechanging of any type in Norse myth involved skins! Sometimes it involved transporting one’s mind and/or soul into an animal’s body, entering a shamanic trance, and sometimes it was totally different than either example. But all of that is details for another time.

Generally, these skins - which could come in many forms, but generally were cloaks, cowls, and girdles - were somehow magically enchanted, cursed, or both, depending on whom you asked and whom was in control of them. Others, like Kveldulf, clearly didn’t necessarily need these skins to gain the might of the wolf and had it even in their human form. In fact, it’s implied most berserkers did.

Turning into a wolf with the skins and/or any other variety of werewolfish things, rituals, and shapechanging acts - including becoming a berserker - wasn’t always considered necessarily “bad” or “evil,” nor was it directly always considered “good.” Wolves themselves in Norse myth are perceived very mixed. Often, they are considered good and people and warriors all look up to them for their cunning, ferocity, strength, wisdom, and all their other amazing majestic incredible strong and brave qualities (can you tell I’m biased? But really, they loved them, too, for - in a word - their sheer badassery).

This can be seen in the case of Odin having dominion over wolves, as well as having his own two wolves, Geri and Freki, who were meant to be the progenitors of wolves everywhere. But then, conversely, you have not so good wolves - you have evil wolves like Fenrir, destined to swallow Odin and slay him during Ragnarok (basically he was the scariest thing about Ragnarok, don’t let any movies tell you otherwise...), and there were plenty of other bad wolves, too.

To a warrior, though, having the strength and ferocity of a wolf was pretty desirable, and plenty of positive figures in Norse writings had wolf associations. So, no, they weren’t all always evil by any means, and they were also frequently associated with wisdom and sages.

Much later in history, other werewolf legends began to re-adopt this concept of wolf skins. Specifically, in the Renaissance/Early Modern period, the concept of wolf skins arose again in several werewolf trials - most notably Jean Grenier, who claimed he received a wolf skin given to him by the “man of the forest,” a big creepy dude who was quite possibly Satan or, at the very least, some kind of demon or guy with lots of very close demonic dealings. He didn’t exclusively use this wolf skin, though, as there was a salve and some other ritual involved to assuming his wolf form.

This was also, as I’ve mentioned, the time period when concepts of werewolves (and wolves themselves - real ones, actual living animals) began to be warped forever - and they’re still that way today. In that time period, they became associated with crazy people, cannibals, serial killers, etc., and all other variety of undesirable people. Werewolves, essentially, became associated solely with madmen and often with Satan. This was not an exclusively Christian doing, either, as there are plenty of positive Christian portrayals of werewolves (not all of which are covered in this post, either). While Christianity certainly warped many legends, werewolves were not actually one of them, despite what some people might tell you. There are many, many positive Christian depictions of werewolves, and you can find several covered in other werewolf facts (I did one just recently on the werewolves of Ossory). And then there are werewolf knights, whether they were all directly Christian or not.

But I covered all that in other posts, too - most of them, in fact. But most specifically in these two posts here (Part I and Part II), on the descent of the werewolf into what we think of them as today (unfortunately). I think the honestly rather crappy modern perception of werewolves was shaped entirely too much by this shoddy time period and that helped people forget all the original legends and assume they know them without really knowing them at all.

Oops. How’d that soapbox get there? Let me move that.

Anyway, getting back to the skins, that mostly covers it! There’s so much to be said, of course, but that’s the basic overview.

(If you like my werewolf blog, be sure to check out my other stuff! And please consider supporting me on Patreon - you get goodies, get to help me decide what the next werewolf fact will be, and every little bit helps me so much!

Patreon --- Werewolf Fact Masterlist --- Twitter)

67 notes · View notes

ansgar-martinsson · 4 years

Text

The Best Intentions - Part 7

“You know, Joline, you remind me of someone,” Ansgar chuckled, lifting his fingers to wave languidly at the passing jogger. He laughed harder when said jogger did a double take and turned his head quickly away. “Someone I knew in America.”

“Really?” Joline replied. “I remind you of an American woman?”

He nodded. “You are very American in your demeanor, but in only the good ways.”

“In the good ways, huh?”

“Yes,” Ansgar bowed his head slightly. “In the good ways.”

“As opposed to like… the bad ways?”

Ansgar inhaled, his eyes widening. “Oh, there are many, many bad ways, believe me.”

“Like what?”

Ansgar snorted. “Like…,” he blinked, pulling down his lower lip in a slight cringe, “a bizarre obsession with American football and baseball, a love for tiger-piss beer, a craving for over processed foods, hyper-consumerism and and an overt label consciousness,” he frowned, still considering. “Not to mention a need to be considered independent paired with a constant demand to be pampered, kowtowed to, and fawned upon, and a tendency to be offended by the slightest thing and then post a crusade on Facebook about it. That sort of thing.”

She sucked air through her teeth. “Yeah, bad ways. I get it. So, who was she? This American in the good ways who I remind you of.”

“Her name is Kay. Kay Browntree. She’s in the construction business, a flooring contractor. Has her own business, very ambitious. But she has her boots on the ground for all of her work. Very hands-on. Grout under the fingernails and all that. I liked that about her.”

“A girlfriend?”

Ansgar sighed. “A potentiality that never came to fruition, I’m afraid. I was in Chicago on a project, she was one of my subcontractors. Unfortunately, I had to move on to another project across the country.”

“Why do I remind you of her?”

Ansgar lifted his eyes in thought. He crossed his legs as he twisted to face her, one arm draped languidly in his lap, the other remained perched atop the back of the bench. “Many reasons, I suppose. Kay makes me laugh – a rare thing indeed. She’s carefree. She gives zero shits about who I am, about my bank account or about appearances or personal hierarchies or societal proprieties. She speaks her mind, damn the consequences. She’s honest, transparent, hard-working, and driven. There’s nothing false about her. What I see is what I get. Much like you.”

In short, nothing like Faye. Nothing at all like Faye.

“Oh,” she intoned. “Tell me more.”

He laughed again, but his face softened. He reached toward her and brushed a lock of her dark hair away from her eye, drawing the soft strands gently between finger and thumb. “I see… I see a soft sophistication to you– a knowledge of art, a taste for luxury, an appreciation of the beauty in machinery and an admiration of the finer things. I see an innate grace in the way you move – in the way you shook out your hair when you took off your helmet, for example.” He shrugged. “She’s a lot like you in those ways as well.”

Her eyes widened, just that little bit, Ansgar noted, a microexpression of self-conscious surprise, a shiver at his touch. She shifted further on the bench, crossing one leg beneath the other, her booted foot dangling off the edge of the bench. She leaned against the back, her elbow hooked around the wood slat, her hand dangling just near her breast.

Ansgar couldn’t help but look.

And she caught him looking. She peered down at her own chest, and knowingly lifted her eyes back to him, her hand open in an indicative gesture. “Oh, I get it. Really, it’s just that she’s got great tits like mine.”

Ansgar choked, his eyes gone wide, his mouth formed into a hollow ‘o’. He recovered quickly, flipping a sardonic yet appreciative quirk of an eyebrow. “Noooo,” he crooned. “Yours are far better.”

It was her turn to choke. She sat bold upright, staring incredulously at him. “Excusemewhat?”

He formed his features into a comical ‘oops’ face, his eyebrows shot high, his lips puckered, his hand covering his mouth in a gesture of mock delicate prudishness. “Oh, did I say that out loud? Well. Hmmmmm.” His lips curled in a wicked half-grin. “That must mean that I find you sexy as well.”

“We’re doing brilliantly at keeping our partnership purely professional.” She dipped her head back to follow a bird in flight. “Nice alliteration.” “Thanks. It pops out sometimes.” She shifted on the bench, bending the knee under her to bring up to her chest. She tugged her foot as close to her bum, hugging her arms around it. Her other foot swung underneath the bench, her toes scraping an even tempo against the gravel. “Dad’s influence.” Ansgar saw her zealousness turn inward. The curse of loss taught him the same trick. He nearly opened his mouth to say something when she beat him to it. “He was American, you know,” she dropped in conversationally, without truly pausing to ask. “Got my guts, gumption, glory and grin from him.” A faux smile appeared, behind closed lips and a pensive look. “And my alliteration.” “But your surname… Lindberg, is Swedish, yes?” “My mother’s surname. My parents were… unconventional, never married, never lived in the same country. Scandalous!” She jazzhanded past that tidbit expecting outrage and judgement. When none came, she lifted her eyes to her companion. “Do you really want to hear all this? Or will you be reading the backs of your eyelids in sixty seconds?” Despite himself, Ansgar was intrigued by her. “Feel free to tell me as much or as little as you would like.” Jo’s eyes followed as a family of four chattered by, disrupting the atmosphere with all their ruckus. The baby cried, the toddler whined, the mother yelled and the father talked over all of them. “I’ll abbreviate. Dad worked for Zim International, that shipping company–” “I’m familiar with them. I held several contracts with them importing bamboo from Asia." "Oh, figures… all you executive types know each other.” He chuckled at the generalization, not at all offended by the stereotype. “I grew up here, near Gamla stan… until seventeen. I moved to America to go to uni, Norfolk it was, in Virginia. I stayed on there, graduated, worked, travelled…”

“And,” he flipped his hand, palm up in her direction, looking for another handout of information, “what made you move back here?”

Joline looked at him for a long moment, considering for as long as it took to make a decision on how much she should tell, how much was appropriate. She inhaled slowly, reciting the mantra on her arm over and over in her head.

Live life when you have it. Live life when you have it. Live life when you have it.

And so, she did. “I love my family; I needed them. I missed so much, my mother, my brother… He got married and had kids while I was away. I’d never met my sister-in-law. I didn’t meet my nephews until much later. My mother got sick. I missed so much. And then my marriage fell apart while I was living in Florida.”

“You’re married?”

“Was. Right out of uni. We were young and stupid and playing grown-ups, but we weren’t compatible. It was a mistake, one I’m glad to have made only so I don’t repeat it,” she sighed, playing at a rueful smile. “When there was no affection left in it, we went our separate ways. He went off to DC, and the offer for the Globe workshop fell in my lap. The Globe led me back here, put me in the running for the Opera House, and here I am.”

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he couldn’t find any other words to say. His thumb tucked in against his palm to follow that familiar track to the gold band on his ring finger. He didn’t spin it this time, only tapped it, reminding himself it was still there.

She smiled sadly, but there were no hard feelings of resentment or sadness in her features. “No need to apologize. Sometimes two people aren’t meant to be together. That’s not always tragic or the end of the world.” She stretched out her legs again, unraveling from the coil she’d put herself into. “I loved him once and I remember that. A part of me, my younger self, the overgrown teenager self, still loves Steven… always will. But she’s not all of me and I’m not quite her anymore. I don’t know if it happened suddenly or over time, but one day I just knew. I needed my family… and they needed me.”

Ansgar nodded. “Family, yes…,” he he paused for a moment in thought, his lips pursed. His eyes focused on nothing in particular… a boat in the distance… as the impact of Joline’s story washed over him.

He thought of his own losses. His own journey, the ways in which he’d shed skin after skin, identity over identity over the past few years. The way in which he’d, as Faye had put it, gone soft. Soft in Faye’s estimation, however, was still as prickly as The Iron Throne to the rest of the world. He thought of Magnus, of Rebecka, and of their child. Their children, now, plural. Thought of the way they had welcomed him back into their home, into their arms, into their world – no questions asked, no consternation about him being for all intents and purposes dead for a year and a half.

And to know Joline had lived that, or something like it as well gave him the sense of a kindred pull to her spirit. A knowledge. An understanding, and the weight of it, the warmth of it settled upon him like a blanket.

“Family is everything, isn’t it?” he finished his thought at last. “I mean, when you come down to it, no matter what sort of shit you get into, no matter how much you hurt them, no matter what pain you endure, no matter how long you’re… you’re gone, no matter how much you change, no matter how hard you try to disappear, it’s your family that… that….”

The sound of a screaming child from just to his right yanked him from his reverie. He shook his head, blinking hard, and gave a breathy chuckle, smiling ruefully up at Joline. He sighed. “Well,” he shrugged, “let’s just say it’s a good job you had your family to come home to.”

He pressed his hands to the bench and shifted forward to stand, but she stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Ansgar.”

“What!?” he snapped, but his eyes softened in almost immediate apology. Live life when you have it, right? “Look, Joline,” he sighed. I’m just going to come right out and say it. I think you’ve sussed by this point that I am rather… intrigued by you. Even more now that we’ve had this talk.”

“Yeah, I think I get that.” She smiled. “And I kind of want to jump your bones, too, so what’s the problem?”

“Complications,” he said, “albeit minor ones.” His lips curved in a melancholy smile. He stayed perched on the end of the bench, his knees spread wide, and he bent forward, elbows rest on his thighs. He clasped his hands together between, his thumbs working one against the other. “Things we should lay out on the table before we continue.”

“With our partnership? You’re not having second thoughts or…?”

“No! Of course not,” Ansgar sat upright. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

“But,” she stood then and rest her hands on her hips. “What are you talking about, then? I mean… how can we even think of anything personal when we’re working together?”

“I’m very good at compartmentalizing,” Ansgar declared. “We simply need limits… understandings. I’ve done it before.”

She frowned, cocking her hip. “Done what before?”

“Worked closely with someone,” he took a long breath, his jaw jut forward. “Someone with whom I’d engaged in another sort of relationship.” He stood, then, and stepped nearer, peering down at her, his eyes hooded and intent. “I would like to know if you can do the same.”

She narrowed her eyes, tilting her head and matching his gaze with her own. “I can, I think,” she said slowly. “But, first, I need to know who.”

“Who? What do you mean, who?”

“Who was the someone you worked with? Who were you working with and fucking at the same time?”

He blinked, and his breath caught in his chest at the blunt force of her question. He kept his mask in place, however, his muscles barely moving, his eyes not wavering at all as he said slowly, evenly, “Faye Valentine-Martinsson. My former VP of Security. My wife.”

She lifted her chin, ever so slightly, and her right eye twitched. “Your… wife,” she intoned. She shook her head, her breath hissing from her flared nostrils. “Damn. That ring on your finger you keep playing with…. I should have known.”

“Joline…” Ansgar grasped her arm. “You don’t understand….”

She slapped his hand off, stepping quickly back. “You know, I thought for a minute that maybe you weren’t like that… how silly of me, how stupid! How…ah, fuck all of this… all of it!” She turned and ran, bolting down the gravel path, her boots kicking up small white rocks in her wake.

“Joline! Wait!” He pelted after her, quickly and easily catching up to her to run beside her. “Joline! Joline!”

…Joline… Joline! Please don’t take him just because you can.

“Leave me the hell alone!”

She increased her speed, but again, he matched, overtaking her. He passed her, cut her off, and quickly turned around, He caught her as she caromed into him, clutching her hard by both of her arms. “Stop,” he commanded. “For fuck’s sake, stop!”

“Let me go, Martinsson!” She writhed, grunting and growling against him, her leathers creaking against his.

“Hey!” He held her fast with an arm around her back. “Come on now! Listen!”

“You can’t…do this,” she seethed. “I won’t… I won’t be that… that woman!”

“What… oof! Ohhhh, fuck!” He groaned, bending over but keeping his grip on her. She’d turned in his arms and threw her elbow sharply backwards into his ribs. “Christ! What… what woman?”

“The other woman!” She gnarled, her teeth grit. “Won’t be your fucking mistress!” She kicked backwards, landing the heavy wooden heel of her boot squarely in the middle of his shin.

“Jesus fuck!” He howled and split his legs wide to avoid more blows. Likewise, he craned his neck to avoid her fists that flew at his face. “You… won’t be! You’re not…. ouch, damn you! Stop hitting me!”

“Fine! Then I’ll do this!” She lifted her foot and slammed it down hard upon his toes. “Fuck! Off!”

“Aargh! Stop that! That fucking hurts!” Ansgar released her, but swiftly whirled her back to face him. He grasped her by the head, one massive hand on either side, and he stilled her. First with a small shake, and then with his gaze, penetrating and sharp. Then with his voice, firm and commanding. “Joline! She left me! I. Am. Not. Married. Anymore!”

… and then, with a growl, he pulled roughly on her, drawing her firmly to him where he silenced her, at last, with his lips.

Joline grunted, her eyes slammed shut, not unexpectedly, but for the control she lost in the situation. All her fight instincts took flight, leaving her defenseless to Ansgar’s kiss. She opened to him, having lost her protestations, denials, angry outbursts of sexual frustration, and let his lips do the caressing, manipulating the last of her vigor.

His tongue swept across her parted lips, a brush against her lower lip, to test her, to make sure she wouldn’t bite as hard as she kicked. Instead she moaned as he tipped her head back to deepen the kiss. Boldly, encouraged by the heady auditory approval, Ansgar plundered her mouth with as much possessive greed as she had entered his office… and his life.

Joline hiked up on her booted toes to erase the last bit of distance between them, wanting for be consumed by the torrential heat blazing off of him. The tangle of tongues sent the sweetest torture of sensation straight to her core, her body heavy with need. One of his hands dug into her hair to hold her captive against his mouth, the other pressed into the small of her back, tipping her hips against his. Dull fingernails scraped along his scalp when she took hold of his curls.

Lust played an undeniable force around them like gravity held them to the Earth’s surface. Slaves to it, but masters of it within their sphere of two. Their friendly jogger, his sights on Ansgar, now making his fifth lap past them, cut his losses and kept going to beat off his own arousal at the picture the two made, a smash of leather, denim and desire.

Ansgar was the one to end the meld of lips and teeth and tongues, regrettably. He knew that if they went on as they were he’d tear her clothes from her body and take her right on the spot, the wandering curious gazes be damned.

Joline herself felt ready to jump into her arms, coil her long legs around him and search out the closest surface to fuck against. He tasted of coffee, sex, danger and she already felt the addictive streams pouring through her body, her pores itching for his fingers and mouth as a balm.

His breath panted against her lips, swollen and pink from the pressure of their passionate kiss and the burn of his goatee. But—Fuck! She was a vision! His influence on her for all to see, he was almost… enchanted by it. He dragged his thumb across her lip, “You’re delicious. I simply cannot wait to taste what other flavors you’re hiding.”

Joline kept her eyes closed, concentrating on the bursts of heated breath spreading over her abused lips and the vibrations from his lips to hers. “God-fucking-damn it, Martinsson!” Only her voice had dropped to a seductive purr instead of the angry tones from moments ago.

He dropped his mouth to her ear, his tongue rasped at the fleshy lobe just once before her murmured, “Search out other art on your skin.”

The five ink decorated skin spots hidden beneath her clothes tingled, sending out a honing signal for him to lock in on. Joline pried her eyes open as he lifted his face to peer into hers. The brassed off woman had been somewhat tamed by temptation, he could see it in the flush of arousal and the relaxed scowl. “If this is what ‘intrigued’gets me, I’m fucked if I ever pique your interest,” she quipped in a delayed response to his comment that led to the heated argument and equally as heated kiss.

The pride and arrogance displayed on him in the forming of a Cheshire grin. “You’re fucked either way, as soon as I get you alone,” he replied confidently.

“I was half hoping you’d be shit at the kissing bit,” she groused. Her hands and the rest of her trembled in her heightened arousal, her libido blaring red to near overload.

He smirked, his fingers playing in her hair once more, wondering at her natural color, “Should I apologize or thank you for the backhanded compliment?”

She sighed dejectedly, “Which drawer have you shoved me into then?” Her words adopted a combative tone but she was still pressed salaciously against him.

The slight didn’t faze him as it would anyone else. He recovered within the blink of an eye, “Joline, I didn’t mean you and you know that’s not what I meant by compartmentalizing.”

She pressed her shaking hands to his chest applying the slightest of pressure to extricate herself from his intoxicating embrace. It didn’t help, she wobbled like a newborn faun, her legs unsure after his seductive kiss. “I just need to know where I fit in your cupboard of playthings. One night stand? Fuckbuddy? Lover? Experiment? Trying me on to see if I fit? Mistress?” She hissed the last word.

Defensively, Ansgar grabbed her arms again, nailing her with his piercing gaze, rooting her to the spot. “I told you. My wife left me,” he ground out between clenched teeth. “You can’t be a mistress when there’s no spouse to cheat.”

She couldn’t explain her petulance. They’d only just met, she had no room to make demands on him. But she felt so strongly about being labeled… “I’m not a homewrecker. I don’t go after other women’s men. That’s not me. I’m not that woman! I won’t be!”

Exasperation colored his sigh of impatience as he dropped his chin to his chest. Women infuriated him at times, tested his limits and busted his balls. Getting laid shouldn’t be this difficult, especially when he reduced the woman to a quivering mess clearly affected by his kiss alone, as he’d done with Joline. “Christ, Joline, you’re not!”

“You’re wearing her ring… still. The one that you promised to love, honor, in sickness and all that rot, yes? It’s still on your finger where she placed it. So are you married or not?” She then crossed her arms under her breasts as if to shield herself from the truth or defend herself from crushing disappointment when he dismissed this thing as not worth the aggravation.

Ansgar’s eyes shifted back and forth between hers, assessing her stake in this. “Why is this so important to you?”

The traffic in the distance had faded, the boats on the water muted, the fragrant breeze that smelled of licorice stuck, even the humans in the ceased to exist. All of that stripped away to leave two souls trying to find common ground to explore their attraction for one another.

“Because when you take me to bed, Ansgar, I want you fucking me. I don’t want you fucking the memory of your wife or ex-wife or whoever she is. I don’t want agendas or schedules or any other person involved.” She stepped into his space again, tucked her forefinger into the belt buckle and tugged him against her until their bodies clashed together, breast to chest, stomach to abdomen, center to groin.

She purred, “Pleasure… adult animal magnetism… orgasms for hours.” Joline nuzzled her hips against his, not quite a graze but something akin to it, a promise of so much more. “Dirty, filthy, raw sex – between two people and we’re the only two people in that room. I want sweat. I want sticky heat. I want shortness of breath. I want my body clamped around your cock.” She bit his lower lip, raking her teeth over the sensitive flesh. “I want the neighbors needing a smoke when we’re sated and too blitzed to fuck again. You can have me when I can have you. You can fuck me when that ring isn’t on your finger.”

#the best intentions

6 notes · View notes

heedra · 4 years

Text

hugsforvillains replied to your post “just thinking about milves in these trying times…”

is that the plural of "MILF" because I tried looking up the word and all I got were links to porn sites

OOPS SORRY YEAH i meant that as a plural of milf

#hugsforvillains #exercising my lesbian right to think about hot older women from time to time

4 notes · View notes

omegastation · 6 years

Text

A friend who is American told me that he always meant to tell me but forgot: advice in plural doesn't need an 's' at the end. I was really embarrassed to hear this because I've been writing 'advices' for years... Oops.

But let's be honest, I've always been embarrassed about my English. IDK if some of you remember, but when I started to post here I used to add a disclaimer at the beginning of my posts like "sorry for the bad English, it's not my mother language." I don't do that anymore but lately I worry about all the mistakes I am missing - the ones that are obvious to anyone but me. Like advice plural.

So if you see me making a mistake, can you tell me (in private ^^') so I can edit it and hopefully learn from it? I would really appreciate it! :)

Btw, I'm also getting really bad at remembering some French words. Last family dinner, mom talked about a bird called 'canari' in French. I've known the word since I was a child but I legit asked... "What does 'canari' mean?"

Mom stared at me. It's only when she said "Débo, the bird" that I understood and felt so silly.

Languages! Urgh :D

43 notes · View notes

awakened-returner · 6 years

Text

Conlanging Odyssey

Oops I meant for this to just be a fun little post about my hobby, but it spiraled into a jargon-filled rant that no-one probably wants to read, so I’ll put it under a read more

Started a new conlang a few days ago. I decided to stop caring about making it perfect and doing just what I found interesting, as well as taking it at a slower pace and not putting too much time and energy into it at once. So I went and chose all the sounds I wanted, and a general idea of how sounds go together to develop as I go.

After this, I’d usually start with verbal morphology, since that’s where my inspiration usually came from since it’s what I’m trying to master the most. However, this is probably one of the reasons I’d get so frustrated and give up before. This time, I’m taking it slowly and doing things in small bits as I get the inspiration for them, and I’m going to try to save verbs for the last of the fundamentals.

Yesterday I finalized my decision to make it a rather synthetic, agglutinating language with case markers and a loose SOV word order. Morphosyntactically it’s going to be an Active-Stative language where transitive predicates in the first and second-person are Nominative-Absolutive, but for third-person transitives and intransitives in all persons it will be a Fluid-S Ergative-Absolutive system where agentive cases are decided by the speaker based on semantics.

Tonight I came up with how plurals and the in/definite articles work. I predict that the next thing I’ll work on will be cases and their markers, as well as pronouns.

I’ve done more than enough for tonight, though, so I’m gonna go to bed.

#don't mind me #conlanging #long post

1 note · View note

scatterpatter · 6 years

Text

Tumblr chomped my submission so here's Take 2 in an attempt to send the rest

Scatts: oH BOY LET’S DO THESE UNDER THE CUT BECAUSE IM HYPE

*Colorless torn the photo :<

This is where we left of last time hell ye

*One of the tags on that post: mi—–

*sssssips tea*

*Colorless is sad (not about killing though darnit Colorless that anon is dead do you have any remorse red-eye boy?)

He has... a lot of emotions XD

*Mention that he wasn’t always this unstable/a killer

He’s not lying. He didn’t come into existence chill with severing anons, that’s a trait that evolved in him over time.

*Tag notes: Mik—-, Nat——

*sssssssip*

*Strangely no quiet noise from Scatter through out all of this

He doesn’t want to interject- he found someone who C is finally opening up to- to Scatter that’s huge because he reeeeaaaally just wants C to stop this bullshit

*“It’s all HIS fault” -Colorless

;)

*“HIS” is in blue hmmmmmmmM

;))))) It’s almost like I chose that color for a reason ;)))))

*One of the tags is “colorless loves the pronoun game” which is… interesting? The other tags of interest: Mik—, Nath—–

The pronoun game as in “HIS fault” rather than just sAYING HIS FUCKIN NAME WE STILL DONT KNOW BLUE’S NAME YOU EDGY WALNUT- Also continuity error, Mik was supposed to have another dash in it, oops.

*Colorless gave up control on the verge of tears. Was that on purpose?

;) Mayhaps~

*Also the words of Colorless and Scatter were smoothly transitioning during this event? Maybe Scatter was conscious of what’s happening then. Or…more on this later

uwu very conscious

*Colorless never left during his own hiatus. He’s still here. He can add tags Scatter :)

*S I P*

*Scatter wants to be kidnapped. How fun!

iMMA STOP YOU THERE-

*You can’t convince me otherwise. Perhaps for Roleplay Drama? I was tempted to kidnap :3c

I REALLY ENJOY DRAMA OKAY NOW S H O O S H

*I mean he never said “no” that was Colorless

SHOOOOOOOSH

*Maybe another time… :)

*INTENSE SHOOSHING*

*Plz don’t snap my neck Colorless it’s for fun the door will be unlocked and He Can Leave At Any Time

KJFSKJFNEKSJNFEJKFESNSFUNEKFUENUUSIN C DONT TRUST LIKE THAT

*AAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Big mood

*Colorless is not good in hiding Moods

I kNOW RIGHT HOW IS HE THIS RELATABLE

*emotional boy

He’s not good at expressing feelings

*It’s alright Colorless

It’s really not

*I mean the killing thing is not but

*wHEEZE*

*The Shipping of Colorless And Apathy.txt (Ray’s character) Happens

edGELORDS 4 LYFE

*THAT MEANS COLORLESS CAN FEEL LOVE MAYHAPS?

Oh definitely! He’s more than capable of falling for Apathy, but first he’s gotta really trust him. Like, they gotta get really platonically close and develop a deep trust in each other before Colorless can start feeling attracted to him. I think it’s safe to assume Colorless is a Demiromantic Asexual.

*Though I’m unsure what of it may not be canon…

As of right now: Colorless and Apathy know each other and live together with The Game. C and Apa are... “friends”? They don’t hate each other but friends implies C isn’t an asshole at all times.

*Colorless can code. Is Scatter robot? Jkjk. The code reads (as much as I can tell(: “if (edge = true {run angst.exe} ints x = 4 lol Narrwashere)” Darnit Narr…. and “while (int i = 0) {delete blue.file} run owo.exe int ++ returntrue”

Since I’m a comp sci major I like to implement coding in things XD Most of it is clutter/nonsense to give the illusion that he’s doing some complex shit. Narr is a bean just let them mess around-

*Is that a stitch on his belly? :O Scatter what happened?

;) Something really bad ;)

*“Unfortunately, I need to steal Scatter’s body in order to do any physical tasks ever since the Incident.” -Colorless

Correct! They shared a body so C couldn’t do anything physical without taking Scatt’s body first

*More coding (and me squinting at a screen): “err: blue.file .file is not a real file format you dingus run edge. avi” and “While (true) {Convert blue.file to blue.mem} erase blue.mem” and “Do you even know our real names? Do you?” That last code is weird, huh?

Very weird ;) Odd how Scatter doesn’t ever refer to him by his real name, only Colorless.

*Colorless is… planning something big.

What an asshole

*New code “Run seperate.exe”

This is probably fine

*“Yes, finally, I did it!!! After all this time, I’ll be free of THEM!!!”-Colorless. THEM is blue. Is them referring to two people… or one?

“Them” is colored blue and purple. Them is referring to plural. Blue isn’t the only one Colorless hates ;)

*Colorless pulled Scatter and himself apart….

This is still fine

*Scatter is still purple

Key note- He’s still drawn in normal pencil while Colorless isn’t ;)

*Colorless is crying black. Or bleeding black?

I didn’t explain this because I accidentally left the last event on a cliffhanger but: Scatter Blue and Colorless should NOT be separated. They’re veeery physically unstable when apart, and they would both be dead right now if Colorless hadn’t coded a way to keep them... slightly stable. The black is to signify “tHEY ARE NOT OKAY LIKE THIS”. It’s a mess. It’s a bad idea. Someone stop him.

*Scatter portrays, well, Scatter.

*sQUEAKU*

*Colorless is confirmed to be like a Darkiplier or an Antiseptiplier

What can I say I’m a sucker for edgelords

*“ He’s a character that looks similar to Scatter/me, but has a different personality.” Also pronoun is he.

Oh yeah, all 3 of them use he/him pronouns!

*“Colorless was not a planned character… He was supposed to just be a “Scatter finally snapped” before I made him his own thing. Now, Colorless and Scatter share the same body. Either ego can come out at any time, and we’ve seen them abruptly shift before: So yes. Scatter and Colorless are in the same body. It’s like one of those “he’s a part of me” kinds of things because, you know, alter ego. Someone found a photo of Colorless(with normal red eyes, important to note), Scatter, and someone else with their face crossed out. What’s odd here is we see Colorless and Scatter in separate bodies, which is strange because we always see them sharing a body, NEVER separate. Important to note that Colorless is fully red(save for the eyes and that other black stuff), implying he’s far from a normal human in this form.”

uwu

*“So yeah tl;dr: Scatter is a persona, Colorless is an alter ego. They used to share a body, but are now in two separate bodies. Something bad happened in the past that caused this whole mess to happen…”

uuuuwwwwuuuu

*And then Scooterpooter appears. He’s great tbh give him more screen time plz

I never meant for him to be an actual ego but I love him too much to get rid of him

*Also Scoot’s a demon. Yes.

I want to make more content of the misadventures with him and his summoner kurnsjfndkdjfn

*Blue in a photo. He has a “cool guy/cold guy” aura or something. He blu

DA BA DEE DA BA DI DA BA DEE DA BA DI

*Then red blue and purple scribbles him out :<

Actually the colors crossing him out are red purple and green ;)

And there’s a tag that just says “gone”

uwu *sssssip*

*Colorless’s fear: "Losing any more of himself. Losing his identity. Being forced back together. Being alone with his thoughts. Being lost and forgotten. Forgetting his real name. His fears are very existential/abstract.”

;)

*Colorless’s past can cause him to cry and he hates himself… oh dear

;)))

*“Scatter can and will tip toe around the subject, while Colorless absolutely despises Blue and blames him for everything that happened to them.”

They are b a d for each other

*Man I am excite for the sunrise comic

You and me both ;)

*Scoot isn’t evil and has no moral compass good demon roller boy

He’s doing His Best(TM)

*Latest art of Scatter shows some blue peeking out of one eye and… some black tears dripping there. Concern.

This is no longer fine

*Oh and more shipping and edge squad is a thing, neat

I was gonna make a post explaining this but basically- after Scatter and Colorless split apart, C abandoned him and eventually found Apa and Game, and that’s when they started to hang out and live together. He cares about Apathy and Game but shhhhh you didn’t hear that from me ;)

#long post #The Colorless #apathy.txt #The Game #Scatter #Blue #Scoot #sunrise comic #gOOD OBSERVATIONS MY FRIEND #submission

3 notes · View notes

sombraglaze · 3 years

Text

Lexember 2020 - Kmitmuk ksu

I did Lexember 2020 but I only posted it on twitter, and I thought I’d be a good idea to archive all my posts on tumblr as well ヽ(*・ω・)ﾉ

so I’ll put all the pictures in this post and write the transcriptions underneath each pic for ppl who prefer seeing it in that format or are blind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(the first 4 entries were posted the 4th of December)

I decided to do #Lexember kind of late 😅 but here are the first 4 entries, it's my first lexember and I'm a beginner conlanger so pls don't be too harsh if I mess up 🥺🥺

entry 1! 😊

tucir [tʊ.ʔɪɾ] Noun. emotions, feelings, energy.

from *tʼoɛːluː meaning blood, because it was believed that one's emotions where in their blood, they thought of it as a soul, so that's why corpses didn't emote or move, their emotions dried up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

entry 2! 👍

ksu [ksʊ] Adjective. good, correct, important.

from *kusʼu meaning big, the autonym of this language is "kmitmuk ksu" which basically means "the correct way of speaking" and also implies that it's an important language.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

entry 3! 🐍

pi [pɪ] Noun. evil person, "monster."

from *pɛː meaning snake, it's a pretty severe insult, you wouldn't hear it in a civil conversation. it implies "murderer" but isn't always used this way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

entry 4! ⚔️

pira [pɪ.ɾə] Noun. royal guard.

from *peθæː meaning star, they thought of stars as deities whose purpose was to protect humanity, so the word started to be used for guardians or sentinels and eventually became more specifically used for royal guards.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

day 5! 💬 kmitmuk [kmɪt.mʊk] Noun. language, dialect, speech.

from *kɔmytʼemokʼɔ the diminutive of fog, they live in a cold area, so this references the condensation that comes out of their mouth when they speak.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

day 6! ☝️

qer [qeɾ] Noun. four, index finger (archaic).

from *kʼyːθyː meaning index finger, their words for counting inanimate objects come from the names of their fingers and names of parts of their arm, these words are almost exclusively used for numbers nowadays.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

day 7! 😪

tugh [tʊɢ] Adjective. dull (blade), exhausted.

(originally I romanized [ɢ] as <gg> but eventually changed it to <gh>)

from *tʼuːxiː meaning dull, it's used metaphorically to say you gave it your all and now you need to sharpen (rest) before you can keep going or you won't be quite as productive.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

day 8! 🌨️

nsaqf [nsəqf] Verb. to focus, to pay attention.

from *nusʼoxɔ fe meaning to freeze, referencing the fact that if you're concentrating you're probably not moving a lot, so it's like you're frozen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

day 9! 👑

muciqxn [mʊ.ʔɪqχn] Noun. king.

from *moy xixæːnɔ meaning great father, the ancient word for great *xixæːnɔ lead to many modern words ending in qxn, which got reanalyzed as a suffix that can be added to words to make them related to royalty.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

day 10! 🐟

nicaqf [ni.ʔaqf] Verb. to be dead, to float (archaic).

from *nyːaxɔ fe meaning to float, referencing fish, that tend to float when they die, it can still be used to say float but it's very uncommon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

day 11! 🗂️

magheqf [ma.ɢeqf] Verb. to group, to classify.

from *mæːxexɔ fe meaning to cut or separate, the meaning of separating was more and more commonly used and eventually acquired the characteristic of separating based on specific traits that things have in common.

also I misspelled acquired in the image, oops 😅

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

day 12! 🌬️

qorazdoqf [qo.ɾaz.doqf] Verb. to howl (wind).

from *kʼolæːsuːtɔxɔ fe meaning to blow (wind), in their culture, the wind howling is seen as a bad omen, it's a warning from the wind God (who is actually a wolf) and everyone must stop what they're doing to pray.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

day 13! 🗺️

nzu [nzʊ] Noun. north.

from *nɛːso meaning north, this language doesn't have words for left, right, up, down, etc. instead you have to use cardinal directions and reference things like landmarks and the sky.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

day 14! ✨🌙

tfpik [tfpik] Noun. star.

from *tøfæːpʼykʼɔ the diminutive of sun, this word is also used for planets that are visible to the naked eye, but not for the moon, which is "ksor" [ksoɾ] from *køsʼɔɾuː also meaning moon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

day 15! 🔪

put [pʊt] Adjective. new (for tools).

from *pœːtʼo meaning sharp (like a knife), this word is pretty much exclusively used for tools, the generic word for new is "not" [not] from *nɔtʼɔ also meaning new.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

day 16! 🐛🤬

pik [pɪk] Noun. worm, bug, phallus (vulgar).

from *pɛːkʼɔ the diminutive of snake, it can be used as a swear word depending on the context, but it usually means worm and sometimes bug in general.

I realized I had never really made any swear words in any of my conlangs so I thought I'd give it a try 😆

also sorry if this one is a bit too edgy lol I'll return to normal vocab tomorrow 😅

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

day 17! 🌲🌲🏔️

terrag [te.rag] Noun. forest.

from *tʼœːræː ki meaning many trees, there's also a word for forest that is more fancy and tends to be used specifically for montane forests "tir" [tɪɾ] from *tiːlyːo meaning forest.

also, this word is always interpreted as being plural because of its etymology, so if you wanted to say "small forest" you would say:

"terrag tacakig" [te.rag ta.ʔa.kɪg] (forest small-PL)

as opposed to:

"terrag tacak" [te.rag ta.ʔak] (forest small.SG)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

day 18! 🐌

kudipaduw [kʊ.dɪ.pa.dʊw] Noun. snail.

from *kutiːpʼæː topɛː wet/sticky animal, meat is "mxa" [mxə] from *mɔxo w/ same meaning & container is "kitek" [kɪ.tek] from *kitʼøkʼɔ diminutive of lake, so bucket of snail meat is "kitek kit mxa tugudipaduw."

based on this meme:

https://twitter.com/Fordsmender/status/1335178530284564480

btw, the gloss is (container with meat snail-LOC) where the locative case is being used to mark inalienable possession (maybe I should've used alienable 🤔)

also kitek is mainly used for things that typically have water in them but it can mean bucket or tub in general.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

day 19! 👹🐕

mzgha [mzɢə] Noun. beast, monster.

from *muːsuːxœː the augmentative of dog, the word originally meant wolf, but the meaning expanded to all dangerous animals and big mythological creatures, and the word for dog is mzu [mzʊ] from *muːsuː

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

day 20! 🌋🔥🌲🌲🔥

teqsnubz [teqs.nʊbz] Noun. volcano, burning place.

from *tʼøxœː sʼœːnu pɔθy meaning mountain with fire, that word for "with" was specifically for animate nouns, it came to mean "accompanying" and mountain was the augmentative for hill.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

also, a bonus because it's 20:20 20th-(12 😔 smh)-2020

ke [ke] twenty (animate, base 4) from *kœː meaning twenty.

pipaa qer [pɪ.paː qeɾ] twenty (inanimate, base 8) from *pe pæːyː kʼyːθyː (2 eights (and) four) or more literally (ring finger, forearm, index finger).

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

day 21! 🌲🗡️

putfmeterra [pʊtf. me.te.rə] Noun. felling axe.

from *pœːtʼofe mø tʼœːræː meaning blade for trees, blade is the nominalized form of sharp *pœːtʼo and in fact, the modern word for blade or knife is putf [pʊtf]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

day 22! 😇

kidiweqf [kɪ.dɪ.weqf] Verb. to be believed or trustworthy.

from *kytɛːpøxɔ fe the passive form of to see, there is no adjective for trustworthy, it is seen as an action rather than a trait that a person can have.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

day 23! 🌒☀️

napirqf [na.pɪɾqf] Noun. solar eclipse.

from *næːpʼœːθiːxɔ fe meaning to be un-burned (or extinguishing), basically they believe their sun god can extinguish himself at will, eclipses are referred to as "extinguishings" and are seen as a sign of their god's dissatisfaction.

lol I actually ran out of space in the first tweet, that hadn't happened before. this one was inspired by the recent Great Conjunction! 🔭 I'll probably make the next few Christmas related.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

day 24! 🎅🎁

nicirrogi [nɪ.ʔɪ.ro.gɪ] Noun. expensive gift or present.

from *nɛːirɔ ki poruːpʼuː meaning poem, or more literally: beautiful/colorful words (or even more literally: flower-like words) high class people could afford to commission poems, generic gift is msu [msʊ] from fruit *miːsʼo

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

day 25! ❄️

kucugitugh [kʊ.ʔʊ.gɪ.tʊɢ] N. snowflake, hexagon, complex shape.

from *kœːo ketʼo xo tœːpʼumæː meaning snow with(ɪɴᴀɴ) six(ɪɴᴀɴ) tips/points, since the word was too long it got shortened to the first four syllables and it's now also used to refer to complex shapes and patterns.

idk if there's a term for words getting shortened, I just figured I could do it since english does it in words like "net" for "internet" and stuff lol I don't know what I'm doing 😂

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

day 26! 🗻

teghop [te.ɢop] Adjective. solid, hard.

from *tʼøxœːpʼuː meaning mountain-like, originally it was used to mean huge (anything that was around the size of a building or more) but it started to imply sturdy, and the meaning slowly shifted to being anything solid.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

day 27! ⛰️

mudurus [mʊ.dʊ.ɾʊs] Noun. coal, fuel, inspiration.

from *muːto θøsʼo meaning black/brown rock/stone, it's used metaphorically to talk about how inspired someone is to do any form of art or craft.

today's post was kind of late because I didn't have any inspiration 😅 running a bit low on ideas atm.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

day 28! ♒

tacup [ta.ʔʊp] Adjective. energetic, always moving.

from *taop‘uː meaning river-like, it can be used negatively to mean someone is annoying, but generally it's used in a more positive way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

day 29! 😡

qo [qo] Adjective. angry / upset (informal)

from *k’uː meaning red-orange, it originated as a metaphor but eventually the word stopped being used for the color altogether.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

day 30! 👋

mukigii [mʊ.kɪ.giː] Interjection. see you, bye.

from *muːk’ø kɛːyː meaning be-ɴᴘsᴛ.ɪᴘғᴠ well, the word for "to be" is now archaic and the word for good/well now means holy, so the meaning of the phrase is a bit obscure for most people.

wow I can't believe #Lexember is almost over, time flies! :o tomorrow is the last day already! but I think I'll keep posting about my #conlang-s, maybe just not as often :) and I might use my tumblr for longer posts in case anyone is interested in checking that out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🎇🎆this is the final #Lexember2020 entry! I had the idea to make a "book ending" and end it where it started, with four proper nouns related to the first four entries I posted on the first day, thanks for all the ❤️s and RT's everyone :D transcriptions below:

day 31! 🙂

Txurr [txʊr] Proper noun. (joy, happiness).

from *tix’oruː meaning joy/happiness, this word is used exclusively as a name (typically female) and most people no longer know what it means.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

also day 31! 🗨️

Kmitmuk ksu [kmɪt.mʊ.ksʊ] Proper noun (correct speech).

literally “speech/language correct/important” from *kɔmyt’emok’ɔ and *kus’u meaning fog(diminutive) and big, both previous entries, this is how this language’s autonym is written.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

also day 31! 🐉

Pigh [pɪɢ] Proper noun. (dragon).

from *pɛːxœː the augmentative of snake, used exclusively as a name (gender neutral) most people think it means resilient/wise because of a homophone that comes from *p’yːxi meaning old, only scholars know better.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

also day 31! 🌟

Pira [pɪ.ɾə] Proper noun. (royal guard)

from *peθæː meaning star, this word was featured in a previous entry but this is how it’s written if it’s used as a name, proper nouns have their own writing system, based on an ancient syllabary similar to cuneiform.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That was a lot, that’s a lot for reading everyone!! ヽ(o＾▽＾o)ノ I’ll start posting more stuff on Tumblr starting in 2021!

#Lexember #Lexember2020 #conlang #conlanger #Kmitmuk ksu

0 notes