licherally why did they cut this scene from tmp
Bruh as far as I care this is canon fuck it.

licherally why did they cut this scene from tmp
Bruh as far as I care this is canon fuck it.
Hello again! I finally did some new art.
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Should I apply? I think I’m going to go for it!
Thank you to everyone who encouraged me to sell my fan art!! I’ve gone and done it- opened up a little shop with a selection of prints! Click here to visit.
There are only a few pieces up now, but I’ll be adding more pieces a sizes of prints soon. Thanks again to all of you lovely people and please share this! 😘❤️🙏
for chinese new year they get all these famous actors and comedians together and they do a lil show and one of the comedians was like “i was in a hotel in america once and there was a mouse in my room so i called reception except i forgot the english word for mouse so instead i said ‘you know tom and jerry? jerry is here’
jerry is here
my chinese teacher once shared this story in class about someone who went to the grocery to buy chicken, but they forgot the english word for it, so they grabbed an egg, went to the nearest sales lady and said “where’s the mother”
When I was a teenager, we went to Italy for the summer holidays. We are German, neither of us speaks more than a few words of Italian. That didn’t keep my family from always referring to me when they wanted something translated because “You’re so good with languages and you took Latin”. (I told them a hundred times I couldn’t order ice cream in Latin, they ignored that.) Anyway, my dad really loved a certain cheese there, made from sheep’s milk. He knew the Italian word for ‘cheese’ – formaggio – and he knew how to say ‘please’. And he had already spotted a little shop that sold the cheese. He asked me what ‘sheep’ was in Italian, and of course, I had no idea. So he just shrugged and said “I’ll manage” and went into the shop. 5 mins later, he comes out with a little bag, obviously very pleased with himself. How did he manage it? He had gone in and said “'Baaaah’ formaggio, prego.”
I was done for the day.
This makes me feel better about every conversation I had in both Rome and Ghent.
I once lost my husband in the ruins of a French castle on a mountain, and trotted around looking for him in increasing desperation. “Have you seen my husband?” I asked some French people, having forgotten all descriptive words. “He is small, and English. His hair is the color of bread.”
I did not find my husband in this way.
In rural France it is apparently Known that one brings one’s own shopping bags to the grocery store. I was a visitor and had not been briefed and had no shopping bag. I saw that other people were able to conduct negotiations to purchase shopping bags, but I could not remember the word for “bag.”
“Can I have a box that is not a box,” I said.
The checkout lady looked extremely tired and said, “Un sac?” (A sack?)
Of course. A fucking sack. And so I did get a sack.
I once was at a German-American Church youth camp for two weeks and predictably, we spoke a whole lot of English.
When I phoned my mom during week two I tried to tell her that it was a bit cold in the sleeping bag at night. I stumbled around the word in German because for the love of god, I could remember the Germwn word for sleeping bag.
“Yeah so, it’s like a bag you sleep in at night?”
“And my mother must probably have thought I lost my mind. She just sighed and was like ‘So, a Schlafsack, yes?”
Which is LITERALLY Sleeping sac … The German word is a basically a one on one translation of the English word and I just… I failed it. At my mother tongue. BIG
My former boss is Italian and she ended up working in a lab where the common language was English. She once saw an insect running through the lab and she went to tell her colleagues. She remembered it was the name of a famous English band so she barged in the office yelling there was a rolling stone in the lab…
I’m Spanish and have been living in the UK for a while now. I recently changed jobs and moved to a new office which is lost somewhere in the Midlands’ countryside. It’s a pretty quaint location, surrounded by forest on pretty much all sides, and with nice grounds… full of pheasants. I was pretty shocked when I drove in and saw a fucking pheasant strolling across the road. Calm as you please.
That afternoon I met up with some friends and was talking about the new job, and the new office, and for the life of me I couldn’t remember the English word for pheasants. So I basically ended up bragging to my friends about “the very fancy chickens” we had outside the office.
Best thing is, everyone understood what I meant.
I love those stories so much…
Picture a Jewish American girl whose grasp of the Hebrew language comes from 10+ years of immersion in Biblical and liturgical Hebrew, not the modern language. Some words are identical, while others have significantly evolved.
She gets to Israel and is riding a bus for the very first time.
American: כמה ממון זה? (”How much money?” but in rather archaic language)
Bus Driver: שתי זוזים. (”Two zuzim” – a currency that’s been out of circulation for millenia)
that’s hilarious
I am officially screamlaughing at my desk from that last one OH MY
Does everyone know the prime minister who promised to fuck the country?
So in Biblical Hebrew the word for penis and weapon are the same. There is a verb meaning to arm, which modern Hebrew semanticly drifted into “fuck”: i.e. give someone your dick.
The minister was making a speech while a candidate, bemoning the state of the world. “The Soviet Union is fucking Egypt. Germany is fucking Syria. The Americans are fucking everyone. But who is fucking us? When I am prime minister, I will ensure we are fucked!”
What the hell Biblical Hebrew.
Just guessing: The path from something like “give someone a blade” to “give someone a blade, if you know what I mean ;)” is probably not that difficult or unlikely.
^Given that the Latin word for sheath (like, for a sword) is literally “vagina”, I can verify that this metaphor is a time-honored one.
Oh yeah and one time my Latin professor was at this conference in Greece and his flight was canceled, so he needed to extend his hotel stay by one more night.
Except he doesn’t speak a lick of modern Greek, and the receptionist couldn’t speak English. Or French. Or German. Or Italian. (He tried all of them.)
Finally, in a fit of inspiration, he went upstairs and got his copy of Medea in the original Greek (you know, the stuff separated from modern Greek by two and a half thousand years). He found the passage where Medea begs Jason to let her stay for one more day, went downstairs, and read it to the receptionist.
She laughed her head off, but she gave him the extra night.
Reblogged just for Medea
My cousin’s mother tongue is English, but she also speaks Spanish, French, and Arabic so you could say she’s pretty good with languages. She also has an extensive English vocabulary. She spent two years in Peru and spoke nothing but Spanish while she was there. For the first few hours after we picked her up from the airport, she was fine and used her crazy advanced vocabulary like she hadn’t left. But we were eating dinner and she was telling a story and said “There something on the…” she said something in Spanish. We’re like “Sorry Meg we don’t speak Spanish. She huffs and says “You know, the /thing/.” She points down and waves other hand in a flat plane. After her struggling like this for another 30 seconds my uncle is just like “Do you mean the ‘ground’, Meg?” She slammed her hand down on the table “YES!”
I’m half Japanese/half American, grew up in Japan, and normally can speak both like a native. Until I flew back to Japan for work and was jetlagged from 20+ hours in planes and trains, apparently. So I’m on the bullet train heading north, blearily searching for a bathroom, and happen to ask the girl selling concessions – in English, by accident – where the “restrooms” are. The poor girl didn’t speak a lick of English but it was too late for me to switch into Japanese at this point. Bless her heart, she took me to the “restaurant” car… and thankfully, the restrooms were nearby.
I grew up bilingual (English and Polish) and have spoken both fluently my whole life.
One time my mother and I were talking about landscaping in Polish and I was asking her what she was going to do with the anthills in her yard. Except I forgot the word for anthill in Polish. And English. I made a gesture indicating a hill and flailed my arms around a little and eventually “the hill of the ants” came out in Polish. Well, it doesn’t translate quite so directly and it sounded really ridiculous and she spent a good 20 minutes having a laugh.
Then another time we were going to the grocery store together. I wanted to pick up some grapes but I forgot what they were called while we were speaking Polish so I said “grapes” and my mother was like “oh you mean-” and she froze. Her face scrunched up and she was like “oh my God, I can’t remember what the word is in Polish either” and she was raised speaking only Polish, living in Poland for the first twenty some-odd years of her life. It took us about half an hour to remember what the word for grapes was.
Being bilingual is a laugh riot.
When I lived in Paris I had to take a train to visit a friend. There was some confusion with the schedule, so I went to the window to ask what time the train left for Colombe , only I couldn’t come up with the word for train, so literally asked, “What time does the iron horse leave for Colombe?” I got a very strange look, but also got my answer. And the French word for train....is train.
OMGOMGOMG!!!! One of my favorite fics! Your artwork is AMAZING! Do I sound like I’m gushing over it? Because I am. Great job and please keep going with the pictorial angst!!! 😘
Did you know animating is HARD? I guess this is more like storyboarding but still, mad respect to animators jfc. Just a little dumb thing I was fooling around with.
Love this!
Here’s a link to Part 1 of McCoy writing tips!
Folks seemed to like the last post I did with a few writing suggestions that hopefully would help when writing about everyone’s favorite doctor, so I thought I would add a few more suggestions that have come to mind while reading the awesome Star Trek fanfiction that’s all over the place here! Again, this is not a criticism of anyone’s writing!! Also, I might be veering into headcanon territory, so if it is - just go with it!
1. Just because you’re from the south doesn’t mean that you don’t know how to use correct grammar. McCoy is clearly an educated dude! He would not say “ain’t” or “he done that” or anything else that would cause your English teacher to cringe.
2. Southern gentlemen do not say f–k! Nope! Now, I’m not saying that some men around here don’t say the “mother of all curse words”, but a GENTLEMAN would never say it, therefore, McCoy wouldn’t say it. It totally throws me off when I read this in a story. Mild cursing like “dammit” is heard, but generally not in mixed company and only under extreme duress. This rule pretty much goes for all the major curse words. As my husband says, “Cursing won’t win you any friends, but it can sure lose you some.
Enjoy the bells of Notre Dame! Turn on your sound!
I took this video on a visit in 2014. I’ve been to Notre Dame many times - for many person reasons it’s an enormously important place in my life. I thank God it was not destroyed and look forward to seeing it’s resurrection! 😘❤️🙏
Teacing about space to my kindergarten class ... First, know that space is the final frontier...
OK. So for some reason this ended up sideways, but I’m posting it anyways! Here’s one way I measure proportions for a line drawing - by using grids and transferring them from the photo to the canvas. Just in case anyone is interested, this scene is from the Star Trek TOS episode “The Devil in the Dark”. If you haven’t seen it GO. WATCH. NOW! So much Kirk and Spock bromance! It’s awesome!
“Initial scans indicate humanoid life, Captain.” Spock looked up from the scanner as he reported. “View screen is showing one of the settlements.”
You looked up at the images being projected from the planet’s surface and started to giggle.
“Is there something particularly amusing about this village, Lieutenant?” Captain Kirk arched an eyebrow at you. You tried to smother the laughter bubbling from your chest.
“It looks like a theme park for Vikings,” you blurted. Captain Kirk looked back to the view screen and smiled.
“Hopefully the replicator doesn’t have too much trouble with the horns in my helmet,” he replied.
“Oh, no, sir. The Vikings didn’t have horns on their helmets. I’ll upload some information into the replicator so we can have appropriate clothing,” you replied.
xXx
You finished dressing and admired yourself in the full mirror. There’s been a Viking era recreation group on campus at the academy, but you’d never had time as a student to participate, despite wanting to. Now you were fully kitted out in multiple layers of beautiful clothing and jewelry.
When you arrived at the transporter bay, you stopped in the middle of the doorway, stunned. Both Captain Kirk and Doctor McCoy were fiddling with their clothing and adjusting their belts and it was honestly enough to make you swoon.
Doctor McCoy’s tunic was a deep green that highlighted the amber flecks in his eyes. And the dark blue that Captain Kirk was wearing made those startling blue eyes seem other worldly.
“Y/N! You look like a queen,” McCoy offered. “Gold looks good on you. Maybe you should think about transferring from operations to command.”
“These colours seem very bright, are they appropriate?” Kirk asked. You nodded.
“Based on the Viking era on Earth, and some of the information Mr. Spock was able to provide, we should blend in perfectly,” you replied.
“And it won’t seem odd that you are out travelling with two men?” McCoy asked. “Weren’t women’s rights severely restricted?”
“No, women in the Viking era were very much equals. They could own land, divorce, go to war. Mostly, I’m worried that both of you are clean shaven and short haired, to be honest,” you replied.
“You seem to be better prepared than I, Lieutenant. I cede command of this mission to you,” Kirk laughed. “Try not to get us killed.”
You smirked and nodded. “Oh, I get to give orders? This is going to be fun.”
xXx
To be continued…
For reference:
“Just remember the Prime Directive,” Kirk reminded you as you stepped onto the transporter pad. Doctor McCoy made eye contact with you and you bit your lip to stop scoffing at your Captain.
“I will pay it the same regard you do, Cap” you replied, your tone pert. Captain Kirk smiled and nodded, then furrowed his brow as the beams of the transporter wrapped around the three of you.
xXx
Scotty had put you down in a thick forested area not far from the main village. You easily found the road and started toward the gathering of homes near the ocean, using the masthead of one of their ships to guide you.
As you approached the edge of town, a handsome man, easily over six feet tall approached, his arms wide with welcome. His hair was long, and honey blond and his eyes were a similar shade of blue as Captain Kirk’s. But that was where all similarity ended. He was broad through the shoulders in a way that you knew must have come from rowing long hours in the longship at the shore, and his beard matched his hair, well groomed and decorated with metal beads in places. His trim waist was belted, and his long legs were cross gartered up his calves. All in all, the best parallel you could think of was that he was god-like. And beautiful.
“Systir! Welcome! You look to have travelled far, and only with weak rabble as your company!” His voice boomed genially as he wrapped you in a hug. “I am Ulv, son of Thyr.”
“They aren’t so weak as you’ve judged,” you smiled. “I’m afraid you are mistaken though, friend. I am not your sister, Ulv, son of Thyr.”
“You are a daughter of Odin, surely, and that makes you my family. Maybe not all are recognized as such where you come from, and if that is so, I pity your home,” he smiled, draping and arm around your shoulder and turning back toward the village. “Now tell me of you and your slaves. You must be quite a warrior to travel with them inbound without worry.”
“Me? I am Y/N, daughter of Olaf,” you offered, hoping the name was common enough to deceive the man. “But my slaves? Oh, the boys. Yes. This is McCoy and Kirk. I took them -“
“The slave markets of Dyflin! Aye, they look like islanders,” he nodded. “Malnourished, no doubt. We’ll feed them and strengthen them and they’ll do fine work for you.”
Doctor McCoy scowled and stood straighter. “Now listen here,” he snapped. “I am a doctor of medicine and -“
“He’s a healer? You’ll be popular, Systir. We have many in need of a healer’s hand! And your other slave, does he have any value?”
“He is a good leader and -“
“That’s only good for rebellion. Beat him if he gets any ideas, or he’ll slit your throat in the night,” Ulv offered.
“I have nothing to fear from him,” you smiled at Captain Kirk. “Neither would dare defy my orders.” The Captain scowled at you but nodded. Ulv smiled and gave your shoulder a squeeze.
“Come, Systir. I will show you to my home and you will meet my family. We will take our meal with you and your slaves and speak of your journey,” he decided. Seeing no real reason to turn down his generosity, you nodded and allowed him to lead you into the village.
This. Is. AWESOME! I never knew I wanted Viking Trek until I read this!! I can’t wait to read more!!!
Also, I love that you used the word “pert”. 😛