dialect similarities

cozy vocab in Arabic

Originally posted by butteryplanet

the original post by @malteseboy / recommanded by @blackteaandlanguages

the verbs are in the past, conjugated with “he”. many words have several synonyms in Arabic, i’ve only put one


  • قبلة – kiss (qobla)
  • فيلم – movie (film)
  • حضن – cuddles (hadhn)
  • سترة – sweater (sitra)
  • مخدة – pillow (mkhada)
  • قهوة – coffee (qahwa)
  • جوارب – socks (jawereb)
  • كتاب – book (kiteb)
  • راحة – comfort (raha)
  • بطانية – blanket (batania)
  • قيلولة – nap (qayloula)
  • نار – fire(place)
  • قط – cat (qit)
  • حرارة – warmth (7arara)
  • نجوم – stars (nujum)
  • شاي – tea (shey)
  • عناق – hug (’inaq)
  • شمعة – candle (shamaa’a)
  • ناعم – soft (na’im)
  • رقيق – delicate (raqiq)
  • حلو – sweet (holw)
  • مريح – comfortable (mourih)
  • دافئ - warm (dafi’)
  • قبل – to kiss (qabbala)
  • عانق – to hug (aanaqa)
  •  اعتنى– to take care (of smb.) (i’tana)
  • تمدد – to lie down (tamaddada)
  • حضن – to cuddle (hadhana)
  • قرئ – to read (qara’a)
  • نام – to sleep (nema)
  • ارتاح – to rest (ertaha)
Glorious Gems of MP - The Woven History of Chanderi

The fabric of Chanderi has great tales woven into them. The name of the town itself is synonymous with the world of exquisitely hand-crafted saris. The unique warp and weft of chanderi saris are one of the best kept secrets of this town. The saris are woven out of very fine threads making them extremely lightweight and wearable all year long. And the trade of these sarees has been passed on from one generation to the other, and each member of the family makes a significant contribution to the craft.

Chanderi saris use cotton and silk for the base, and zari butis are woven using extra weft technique. It is amazing to watch each motif being created by hand, one thread at a time. The more complex designs on borders and pallu are now made by dobby and jacquard (complex cards are added to the loom). The beautiful colours (neembu-lemon, narangi-orange, tamatari-tomato) and motifs (leaves, mango, chana-peas) are all inspired by nature.

With a background in Textile Design, I was completely drawn to the painstakingly detailed process of weaving. During my graduate programme I had to make a number of table loom samples and if that was challenging for me, Chanderi weaving is a class apart in its mastery. The simplest of Chanderi sari takes at least 3 days to weave, depending on the motifs and complexity of the design. All the weavers have soft hands enabling them to work with extremely fine threads. There are about 5000 weavers working on looms in Chanderi today.

Later, I got an opportunity to meet a few master weavers and visit their homes. The little time I spent with them will remain in my memory forever. The honesty and sincerity of these talented craftsmen humbled me. I was gazing with wide eyes at the beautiful sari being made right in front of me and in that moment I gained deep respect for these guys, for it takes a colossal effort to set up the loom. With the meticulous addition of each buti (motif), I saluted them for the enormous creativity, patience, skill and sincerity required to master this process. 

Looking at my enthusiasm, one of the weavers narrated a small couplet for me:

“Sheher Chanderi Momenbada,
Tiriya Raj Khasam panihara”

“In the city of Chanderi where weavers dwell,
women rule whereas men fill water”

Master weaver Abdul Fareed, who has been in this business since the last 20 years, showed me some of his sarees. His favourite color is Gajari Pink (Carrot Pink) and favourite motif is Keri (Mango).

Spending time at the weavers’ basti, I was curious to know about the origins of these Bunkars (weavers). “How did the city of looms come to be?”, I enquired. And my guide Kalle bhai, a very erudite man told me the story of the weaver community.

It is believed that they came from the lost city of Gaur Lakhnauti - an ancient city that thrived on the India-Bangladesh border. Kalle bhai’s quest to search the origins of this ancient city led him to Bangladesh in 2011 where he discovered art, crafts and even dialect similar to that of Chanderi. He has penned his research and findings in a deeply engrossing book.  

Another highlight of Chanderi saris is the kaala tika (black spot) that each weaver puts on the sari marking its originality and more importantly to protect it from the evil’s eye - a practice common in India.

Some of the traditional designs are Masrai Dadia Sari, Do Chashmi (both sides can be worn), Daadi Dar, Baane Bar and Mehandi Bhari Haath. One master weaver has been weaving the Mehandi Bhari Haath sari since 1976. Chanderi fabrics are so precious that they are treated like a newborn baby, with utmost care. Legend has it that Chanderi was the most prized fabric of Akbar’s court. With diminishing royalty, Chanderi fabric also saw downfall in production and skilled craftsmen. When Madhav Rao Scindia I inherited the throne, he established a training centre for the weavers of Chanderi.

A centre that is making waves across the city and the country is Chanderiyaan- a cluster of weavers part of Digital Empowerment Foundation (DEF) and Media Lab Asia. It is a social entrepreneurial initiative towards sustaining livelihoods of the Chanderi weavers community. Set up in the Raja Rani Mahal where heritage seeps through each and every wall, Chanderiyaan is an opportunity for weavers to bypass the hefty network of middlemen and sell their creations directly in the global market. That’s why they call it the Digital village of Chanderi.

Designers from all over the country come to Chanderiyaan to develop their weaves and saris. It felt great to see digital empowerment allowing the craft to live long and prosper.

The looms shall be etched in my memory for years to come and the weavers shall continue to remind me of their rich heritage, pride and modesty. The exquisitely crafted saris will wrap me around in their sheer radiance. With a hope to return someday, I bade salaam and left this magnificent city.

About the artist 

Neethi Goldhawk is an independent illustrator and textile print designer who loves drawing all things dreamy, inspired by nature and life. She has illustrated for platforms like Redbull Amaphiko and Launchora. Her pen name (Goldhawk) was concocted in the crowded space of her mind full of absurd characters, who are but little children at heart. She is an avid Tumblr blogger and can be found here

By Neethi Goldhawk
Chai Tea

Word for tea in most of the world’s languages are all ultimately related, belonging to two groups of terms.

“Tea” itself belongs to one of those groups.  It was a borrowing from Dutch thee, in turn from , the reading of  茶 in the Amoy dialect of Min Nan.  Those languages whose introduction to tea was primaraly from Dutch traders typically use words likewise derived via the Dutch thee.  The Polish herbata is also part of this family, though slightly obscured, being a borrowing from the Latin herba thea.

The other major group is represented by the word chai, a more recent borrowing in English.  Chai was borrowed from the Hindi cāy, which in turn came from a Chinese dialect with a form similar to Mandarin chá.  Languages that use chai-type terms generally were first introduced to tea through overland trade, ultimately to northern China, while those that use tea-type terms were generally introduced to it via sea trade, from Southern China.

Both  and chá are derived from the same Middle Chinese form, ultimately derived from Proto-Sino-Tibetan *s-la “leaf”.

Laurent headcanon: Kempt is somewhere in the Northern Vaskian regions with a dialect that is similar enough to the Vaskian tribes Laurent spoke to to be mutually intelligible. His mother spoke that language to him and Auguste as children, and when she died, he and Auguste continued to speak it together on their own as a kind of ‘secret code’ that made them feel close to each other and her and that’s why he retained it and didn’t forget it as he might otherwise have done when she died.

anonymous asked:

do you have any headcanons abt warriors and their dialects? like i think that all the clans speak slightly differently and the farther apart they are like thunderclan and windclan the more different they are. leaders and medicine cats have to learn the differences in dialect but for others it's more of a hobby. skyclan has a completely different dialect from the others but it was figured out quickly. by dialect i mainly mean things like saying soda over pop or y'all instead of you all.

hmm i don’t think there’s really any major differences considering the area they all live in is relatively close haha. there’s definitely some puns/metaphors/sayings that are unique to each clan. i think the tribe would probably have the strangest accent out of all of them, but overall i think their accents/dialects would be pretty similar 

「Learn Japanese」 Kansai-ben and Intro to Japanese Dialects  (What is Hougen?)

方言 (ほうげん/hougen) is a linguistic term that means “dialect.” Similar to how English is spoken differently depending on where you are regionally, the Japanese language sounds varied depending on the background of the speaker. The most general division of language and culture for Japanese would be between Eastern Japanese and Western Japanese. Eastern Japanese is broadly represented by Tokyo-type Japanese, otherwise known as standard Japanese, e.g. that which is taught in formal education, used in media, etc. As for Western Japanese, a lot of different dialects attribute to it, but perhaps the most well-known is Kansai-ben/Osaka-ben (弁/べん/ben here is the suffix that means “dialect, speech”). 

While the dialects of the United States for the most part showcase minor discrepancies, the dialects of the Japanese language are distinct not only in terms of peculiar vocabulary (such as set words, phrases, and slang) and pronunciation stlye (particular intonation, emphasis, etc.) but also notably different grammar rules.
To date, all of the formal grammar videos posted on this channel have been in accordance to Eastern, Tokyo-type Japanese, due to it being the standard Japanese.

Here is a brief demonstration of the Kansai dialect and how its grammar, specifically conjugation of verbs, differs from standard Japanese.

Intro to Kansai-ben:

3 Common Kansai-ben Phrases:

Standard Japanese: だめ (dame)
Meaning: “no good”
Kansai-ben: あかん (akan)

Standard Japanese: とても (totemo)

Meaning: “very”

Kansai-ben: めっちゃ  (meccha)

Example: めっちゃかわいい (meccha kawaii) as opposed to とてもかわいい (totemo kawaii), both of which mean “very cute”

Standard Japanese: (baka)
Meaning: “idiot”
Kansai-ben: あほ (aho)

Grammar Differences between Kansai-ben and Standard Japanese:

The ない in the Negative-ない Form becomes へん (and sometimes even just ん)
知らない (しらない/shiranai) becomes しらへん (shirahen) or しらん (shiran)
分からない (わからない/wakaranai) becomes わからへん (wakarahen) or わからん (wakaran)

The ません in the Negative Polite Form becomes まへん
食べません (たべません/tabemasen) becomes たべまへん (tabemahen)
飲まへん (のみません/nomimasen) becomes のみまへん (nomimahen)

Plain-Form だ becomes や
忙しいだった (isogashii datta) becomes 忙しいやった (isogashii yatta)
忙しいだから (isogashii dakara) becomes 忙しいやから (isogashii yakara)

Sentence-ending particle よ becomes で
楽しかったよ (tanoshikattayo) becomes 楽しかったで (tanoshikattade)

Sentence-ending particle ね becomes な
いいね becomes ええな
*Additionally, ええ is used in lieu of いい to mean “good”

The いる in て-Form Verb + いる becomes ねん
何をしている becomes 何してねん

anonymous asked:

in a similar vein to the "my father" ask- while i understand that the use of "our [name]" allows an understanding of the specific person being referred to ("our edward" vs "your edward") it seems silly to say it within their own family when the person being spoken of is assumed, or even to their face ("our rose" when rose is in the room or "it's lovely to see you again our fanny")

That’s more of an affectionate addition found in some English dialects, similar to diminutive suffixes or terms tacked on to people’s proper names in other languages. In that case, it’s less about literally pointing out the person and more like “aww yeah that’s our Whoever!” in a chummy way. This is perhaps less common now, but still heard often in some regions of England.

ETA: Also worth considering that all men at the time were named William, George and John and all women were Jane, Catherine, and Elizabeth. Or close to it.

kirnura  asked:

i... guess junkrat is culturefaking? i mean his va is just doing a mock australian accent whereas most characters have VAs who come from countries/countries with similar dialects or languages to their characters but junkrats va is simply a fake.... not a mate..... wouldnt throw a shrimp on a barbie with him.... he doesnt know what a maccas is. its a disgrace. stefi i also like how you didnt mention how i said junkrat used to be hot

junkrat is simply a fake… not a mate….

Zone dialects

I saw @doodlesofall and @foodistheweapon talking bout this so I thought I would throw in my headcanons


So each zone has its own dialect and it drives everyone crazy

The city is the least weird, each syllable is pronounced clearly and smoothly. People in the city can say marry, Mary, and merry without them sounding the same. City born have speech therapy to weed out any imperfections.

Zone one being closest to the city has a very similar dialect. The real difference is that zone one can say the slang without it sounding forced.

Zone two is were the dialects start to differ. Words get slurred to speak faster and filler words; like, um; are put into sentences to keep the speed. The slang is about the same as in zone one and many City born killjoys can understand what’s being said.

Zone three and four have the same dialect but different slang. Someone in zone three might call a bug a pillbug while zone four calls it a Roly poly. Killjoys who live outside of these zones can still understand the meaning of what’s being said even if it’s said really fast.

Zone five is where things get weird. The fast talk and slurring of words makes most conversations confusing. The slang is the same but used at weird times. Zone five uses a lot of slang for multiple things with the only difference being how it’s said. It mostly has zone born killjoys who grew up with this talk.

Zone six is almost impossible to understand unless you grew up with it. People have their own set of slang for everything and more often then not talk in what seems to be riddles instead of actual sentences. Not only is the slang weird but the speed is too. Killjoys switch from talking really fast to really slow in the same sentence.

The difference in slang came from back when the zones were filled with underground info and trade centers. Messengers would have to be able to find those on their side easily SO invented code words to sneak into sentences. As BL/Ind took over the codes started being wiped out. Zone six sounds the weirdest due to still using most of the original code words and phrases. It survived out there because of the difficulty in getting to zone six without problems.

All My Characters Sound like Me!

Sometimes I have a problem with my dialogue: it sounds like I’m having a conversation with myself. A lot of the time, especially in first drafts, my characters all sound like different versions of me. This, obviously, is not good. If I wanted to talk to myself, I’d find a mirror…

It’s important all your characters sound different in the same way that everyone in real life sounds different. Everyone has a different personality and this comes out in the way they speak, from the words they use to the way they say them. This can be hard to convey on paper though because your readers are reading words (unless you’re writing a script) and will read them in their own voice. So it’s your job to make your dialogue distinctive.

I once heard that a writer should be able to cover up the ‘he said, she said’ part and still know who is talking. While that sounds extremely hard to do all the time, there’re definitely things you can do make your characters sound different.

Variation

The key to showing different characters is variation. They’re so many words in the English language, but I bet you use the same ones on a daily basis, because we all do. Making characters say words and phrases that you don’t will instantly stop them sounding like you. Then if you make each character say phrases another character wouldn’t, you have a cast of individual sounding characters.

This is easier said than done, so listen to the way your family speaks, your friends, strangers on the street, and people on TV. After a while you’ll be able to easily identify the little and big things that make people sound different.

Personality

A characters personality will impact on what they say and how they say it. A kind person wouldn’t say something mean, and a funny person wouldn’t say something sombre (under normal circumstances). If your character’s shy they may not say much, so play around with the amount said and sentence length as well.

Background

Where a character grew up, who they hung around with and how much education they received will also impact on their speech. You probably sound similar to the people around you, but different to those a hundred miles away. Remember not everyone is completely different. People that have grown up together in the same place will sound similar.

Dialect & Accent

Everyone has an accent and certain dialect, so if your character comes from a place with a distinctive one, use it. It can be shown through words used or their syntax. Not everyone speaks grammatically correct. Try not to show it through misspelling and don’t take on a dialect unless you know it or have researched it very well - people will know instantly if it’s wrong. It can also get annoying if the speech is hard to understand, so sometimes suggestion works better that full reproductions.

Occupation & Age

A toddler will sound different to a teenager, who will sound different to an adult. A toddler might have trouble making themselves understood and an older person might forget what they are saying halfway through (clichéd, but it happens). Making a character’s dialogue suited to their age will differentiate them and make them more realistic.

Different jargon is used for different jobs. So, a soldier will use different language to a scientist. Whether they are in work or school, they will speak a certain way.

Catchphrases

These aren’t only for sitcoms. Do you have certain phrases you say out of habit? You know, that annoying one your dad always says. Character’s will too. They can then easily be identified by saying similar phrases over the course of the story. But make sure you don’t overuse them or make them over the top.

I hope these tips help you make your characters sound different. Let me know!

Happy Writing!

(More character tips here.)

Nobody really talks about this (probably because it’s a relatively recent development in terms of US history, so it hasn’t been established as a thing yet), but the Mid-Atlantic has a distinct regional character comparable to other US regions. Between, I’d say, Pennsylvania, South Jersey, Delaware, and (at least Central) Maryland, there are noticeable cultural (using that term loosely) similarities. Dialect being the most obvious one (granted, it varies somewhat from state to state as dialects tend to do in all regions), but there are others. It’s like a weird combination of Yankee and Dixie culture which I guess developed after the Civil War, as well as a weird combination of Anglo, German, Irish, Italian, and Polish diasporic cultures (thanks to the latter three it’s also a pretty significantly Catholic region) which developed over time after the less desirable Euros were allowed in and mixed with the Old Stock. And now, for good or ill, it’s slowly kinda become it’s own thing in a way.

My favourite thing about Zionists making the argument that there was no Palestine because it was never a proper nation-state with borders is that they also imply that countries under empirical rule also didn’t exist because they weren’t nation state and didn’t have borders, and this can also be extended to modern-day settler colonial states that weren’t essentially “countries” because they didn’t exist in the form of a modern nation-state. 

Then that brings me to their next argument that “Palestinians don’t exist.” Neither did Israelis before 1948. But here’s the thing. People all over the world embraced an ethnic/religious identity primarily before the emergence of a modern nation-state and national identity. In fact, the concept of national identity came along with colonies seeking independence under colonial rule in the 1500/1600s.

But even if Palestinians have always identified as Arabs or as whatever ethnicity they are, that doesn’t change the fact that Palestinian culture is deeply rooted in Palestine. It may be labelled as ‘Arab/Levantine culture’ because it shares similarities with Jordan, Lebanon, and Syria but it takes root in Palestine and is even dervied from the cultures of previous groups of people who lived on the land before the Arab conquest. for example, dabke apparently is said to be of Phoenician or Canaanite origin. The Palestinian dialect of Arabic shares similar vocabulary and linguistic elements with modern Hebrew because theyre both highly influenced by Aramaic. This isn’t even to mention the DNA that many Palestinians and Jews share. Just like Jewishness developed in diaspora but has its roots in Palestine, Palestinian culture, history, and existence also has its roots in Palestine. The only difference is it has an Arab label on it, but it was never imported.

Clarification on the Seventeen “N-word” Incident

So firstly, let me say that Gyeongsang-do is a province in South Korea to the south of the country. In the district is both Seungcheol’s birthplace (Daegu) and my birthplace (Changwon; yes, I am Korean) , so the two cities speak very similar dialects. The only difference is that the district of Gyeongsang-do is subdivided into Gyeongsangbuk-do and Gyeongsangnam-do. The term buk means north and nam means south, meaning that Gyeongsangbuk-do is to the north of the district and Gyeongsangnam-do is more to the south.

I will admit I am a Seventeen stan, but I’m not here to protect them or make an excuse for or cover up what some of you guys are accusing them of doing. I am merely presenting you with the facts. (Some, not all. I assure you, it is a misunderstanding.)

So let’s just summarise what happened >> in the video <<. Seventeen were at the airport, waiting for their flight to Hong Kong to attend the 2015 MAMA Awards. For fun, they decided to make acrostic poems with the syllables “Ma” and “Ma” for “MAMA”, since it was the event they were going to.

S.Coups distinctly says “Ma, naega.” (마, 내가) I understand that for some non-Korean speakers, that may sound very much like the N-word. When it is not.

Naega means “I am” in Korean. Ma is a dialect-based word, dropping the first syllable of the word “인마” (Inma) or “임마" (Imma) which translates to “Hey (boy)” or an informal way of saying “You”. Despite sometimes (but still very rarely) coming off as rude, “Ma” is so commonly used it isn’t normally considered rude to dialect speakers. Most people say it to people they’re close to and it just breaks the ice a little and keeps the mood comfortable. So in the dialect-speaking districts, it translates more to “Yo” or “Hey” in a more friendly manner.

So he was saying “Hey, I am”. As for the rest of the members who repeated what he was saying and laughing, they seemed to be merely getting excited that he was showing a bit of his background by speaking satoori.

And continuing with his acrostic poem, he adds “Mama-e ganda aiga” which translates to “Going to MAMA.” He was saying that he was going to MAMA.

Why might he say the phrase in this sort of fashion, you ask? He says it as if he’s slightly boasting about going to MAMA. Well, it might be true. Going overseas is a pretty big deal in Korea anyway, and MAMA is a pretty big deal for idols and artists, too. So in a way, he was showing off the fact that he was going to the MAMA awards and was proud of it.

As for Seungkwan, I read a very well-explained description on @jolbyjo ‘s post about it and completely agree with what she said about Seungkwan’s situation, although I disagree with what she said about S.Coups.

Thanks for reading ^^

Unintelligible

Sam imagine, edited for reposting to add detail, requested by anon! “fluffy sam like cuddling & stuff omfg the feels are real” I don’t normally take requests this vague (in fact, I’d delete it nowadays) but way back when this was originally posted, I was extremely inspired. Hope you like it!

Your eyes skimmed the book of lore with dreary half-conviction, watching as the ancient text swam with unintelligible scribblings your mind could not put into place. Your brain whirred as you struggled to decode the foreign language that, for all you knew, had been dead for centuries. Those damned Men of Letters were like over-eager yard salers, slapping money in the face of anyone who possessed a book on monsters over four thousand years old. You doubted any of them could have read what you now struggled to understand, but of course the scratches wound up in their precious library. Sure, the pictures helped, but the key to killing whatever the Hell you were hunting was somewhere in the body of words. Your frustration would not, could not, get the best of you. Sam was seated on the opposite end of the elongated Men of Letters library table, pages flicking every two minutes or so, old parchment slicing the air as he moved on, effortlessly reading the gibberish printed on the pages. You felt like you had elevator music blaring within your skull. You didn’t usually mind the research, given you could use it to spend time with your boyfriend, though your work was mostly silent. Reading with Sam was peaceful… and hunters aren’t usually privileged enough to find peace. Your thumb and forefinger pinched the paper, rubbing the brittle material between the pads of skin, scrutinizing the ink and coming up blank. Gears shifted and caught in your brain, producing desperate whirring sounds as you struggled to understand. You shoved the book away with an aggravated sigh, blinking your eyes tightly before reaching blindly for the next book, which was hopefully in English.

A girl can dream.

With less difficulty, you read the broken Latin, the pointless ramblings of priests and scholars, every few words dropping off the page, unrecognizable. You were dealing with a… the word had no direct translation. What was it? You silently cursed the author of this book; they were designed for efficiency, not to flaunt your penmanship or talent with a quill. So much elaboration on the texture of the… feathers, hair, you couldn’t differentiate. The text was not intended to be the next Tale of Genji; you needed to figure out what monster you were stalking before it killed anyone. The text never mentioned a name you recognized from other books of lore written around the same time period (therefore, similar dialects) or any specific method of slaughtering the thing. It was hopeless. At this point, you were merely wasting away, cogs clunking to a slow roll in your head, smoke pouring from your ears like a chimney. You glanced at your wristwatch, deflating once you had analyzed the hands. You had been reading, to no prevail, for three full hours. You face fell wearily into your waiting palms, your elbows supporting the weight of your despair against the library’s gleaming table. Your eyes swam in the darkness, producing lines of light out of nothingness to further strain your vision. Your fingers knotted at your hairline, clenching dangerously close to the scalp before tugging through to the ends of your hair, your every movement exuding the toxic fumes of defeat. You heard his chair screech against the flooring, his heavy footsteps provoked by the gust of frustrated wind from your lungs to wander behind your chair, his arms winding over your chest. You sighed, leaning your cheek against his muscled shoulder, your hands falling lifelessly to your lap.

Your eyelids drooped, fatigue and aggravation threatening to swipe both consciousness and sanity in one fell swoop. Sam’s arms constricted gently around your upper body, his chin ducking to rest on your shoulder, stubble itching into your cheek as he brought himself closer to the text you has so obviously abandoned for dead. He groaned a bit, eliciting a giggle within your throat as the sound vibrated against your neck. He was your mirror, down to the final grain of sleepy vexation clinging to the polished interior of an hourglass. His lips mumbled against the soft skin along your cheekbone, whispering words you couldn’t distinguish, his eyelashes fluttering as he trailed closer to your lips. He pressed his unintelligible words into the corner of your mouth, his body tilting yours as he slumped sideways, pulling your chair to a balancing point on two legs before returning you to your previous position, his lips pecking into your cheek before his attention was drawn elsewhere. He reached over your shoulder, plucking the tome from what should have been its final resting place, thumbing through pages, his brow pinched in confusion.

This is what you’ve been working on?” he asked, holding the book at a distance before tossing it rather unceremoniously to the side. “I’m not even sure that’s Latin. It looked like Latin, but the break-up isn’t the same. It’s all over the place. I’m surprised you put up with it for this long,” he mumbled, his voice gravelly as he rubbed his fist against his eye, his lips pursed in a gentle seal against an oncoming yawn. You bit back the urge to copy his contagious display, your tongue dry in your mouth as you stifled your understandable reaction to three hours of grueling, relentless translations. When was the last time you ate? Or drank? When his bout of fatigue was over, he continued. “I mean, this guy’s written a whole series of crap we can’t translate. The Men of Letters have it stacked up against the back wall of the filing room. He tried so hard to sound legit that he ruined the legibility.” He leaned his elbows onto the table, his fingers deftly smoothing his hair back against his skull, his eyes squinting against the light from the library’s Jurassic lamps. You inhaled slowly, lungs heavy in your chest, your ears ringing from the echoing silence of the bunker.

“I wish I knew that before I spent hours trying to read his nonsense. Couldn’t understand a damn thing,” you admitted. Sam exhaled slowly, shaking his head in the shared frustration of the night. Dean wouldn’t be too thrilled to find that both of his studious partners had come to no conclusions with his departure date so near. It didn’t matter that you’d spent hours absorbed in that pathetic excuse of a field guide, what mattered was that he and some forest-smelling, flannel-wearing, middle-aged deadbeat were going into a hunt blind because of tonight’s research failure. Sam straightened out, stretching his arms over and behind his head, his spine cracking as he extended his limbs. His shirt rose up a bit, exposing his heavily muscled torso. You sighed dreamily, your drama earning a smug little giggle, his body fluidly retracting, his hands held out for you to take. Your palms slid into his as easily as if your fingers were carved to mesh with once another. Despite the physical exhaustion currently racking your every nerve ending, you found yourself enjoying the moment of warm contact. Sam pulled you into his chest his fingers abandoning yours as his arms wound around your back, his lips pressing into your hairline while his breath disturbed the strands residing there, your scalp cooling beneath the gale of his breath. His chest was, as always, burning like a furnace, but the heat was a factor you’d grown attached to. It was Sam. Your arms encircled his waist as he rocked you back and forth, lifting you off of the floor to perch atop his feet, using his immense height against you. His eyes were locked on yours with tender, innocent affection. One hand left the small of your back to brush a lock of hair away form your face, tucking the strand behind your ear, his fingers carrying sparks of blazing electricity along your cheekbone, volts following along your jawline to the center of your chin. He tilted your chin upward, his lips diving to meet yours, warmth spreading to your cheeks like you’d snuck too close to a bonfire, his mouth moving sweetly against your own. His kisses drew the air from your lungs like a magnet, the expanse of pitch behind your eyelids erupting with bright white splotches of unadulterated excitement as his lips pulled harmoniously with your own. He began mumbling into your mouth, throwing in a few words whenever he found space between the two of you to speak.

“You know, I’m still half-convinced you’re a siren,” he whispered, his lips pressed against your jaw, smiling against your skin as you giggled. You rolled your eyes, lowering your forehead to rest against his, your eyes close enough to dissect the gold shards surrounding his pupils. How beautiful he was. How very, very beautiful.

“You should stab me, just to be safe,” you laughed, watching his dimples create caverns in his smooth skin, the skin around his eyes crinkling with the extent of his amusement. “Pretty sure bronze should do the trick.”

“I’ll take my chances,” he whispered between kisses, his body molded to yours. You pulled away only to find his arms ensnaring you once more, a mischievous glint settling in his eyes, igniting his irises like dry kindling. Your intake of breath was sharp, realization of the unknown, devilish doings that Sam had in mind tearing at your brain. You set your features, putting on a stern face like a mask, channeling a grade school teacher scolding her students.

“Sam, don’t,” you warned, your voice rock-solid and firm in your conviction. He rolled his eyes, his arms spinning you as easily as if you weighed no more than a sheet of non-resistant paper, hefting you over his shoulder in the span of a single heartbeat. Your peals of aggravated laughter only serviced to egg him on as he paraded you towards the bedroom you shared, keeping in mind how tired you both were after struggling through fruitless research. You decreased the extent of your protests, eager to sleep. It had been an excruciating few hours, and nothing soothed your over-stressed mind like the idea of a feather pillow under your head and Sam’s arm draped over your waist. While you were being rushed through the hallways like a damsel through a dragon’s den, you heard the very distinct click of a vault door opening, announcing Dean’s arrival in the bunker. Sam stopped mid-step, his body seizing up beneath you, the thick bands of muscle on his shoulders tensing beneath your stomach. You felt your face grow hot with a pre-embarrassment glow, your hands slapping against your forehead, preparing yourself mentally for the inevitable explanation Dean would no doubt require. No matter how still he stood, there was no overlooking a statue like Sam, especially when he had another rigid statue folded over his shoulder. Dean’s footsteps drew closer, but still neither of you moved. It wasn’t like you could bolt for a closet, given your current predicament, but Sam seemed to understand that you’’d both be sought-out, hidden or not.

“The Hell’s all this?” you heard the typical gravel of Dean’s voice call from somewhere behind you, the unseen plastic rustling in his hands the product of his supply run. Sam cleared his throat, hefting your body once before holding you tighter against his shoulder. Great. He wasn’t putting you down.

“We were just… uh, we’re gonna head to bed. The research was going nowhere, we’re both exhausted… we’re gonna call it a night,” he admitted, spinning to face your previous direction, gifting you the opportunity to rise your face to Dean say hello. You gave Dean, whose features had been pinched into the stereotypical helicopter-father suspicion, a halfhearted salute, your hand falling from your temple to dangle by Sam’s waist.

Hey,” You dragged the vowel for a few good measures, your voice drawling on. Sam’s shoulder shook beneath you, his silent chuckles moving your entire body. “So… I’m aware that this looks bad. Unholy if you will, but I swear to you I’ll keep your brother in check. Wouldn’t want to tarnish that sparkling virtue of his,” you tried, but Dean’s face didn’t budge a fraction. He was very much unamused. “Honestly, though, we are just going to bed. The books were literal gibberish. We’ll have to try something else tomorrow,” you muttered, trying desperately to reassure him from your dangling standpoint. Dean rolled his eyes as Sam spun again, carrying you to your shared bedroom, muttering a final goodnight to his brother. He laid you atop the bed sheets and collapsed beside you in a fit of (very manly) giggles, his eyes tearing up. You joined him, trying to keep the volume at a minimum, Heaven forbid Dean busts in with a loaded rifle to break up ‘his kind of party.’ Sam opened his arms to you, chest still shaking with chuckles, inviting you into his arms. You snuggled closer to him, pressing a feather-light kiss into his cheek before surrendering to the overwhelming urge to sleep, Sam’s steady breathing lulling you easily into a dream.

anonymous asked:

Exactly how well do Scandinavians understand each other and how similar are Norwegian, Swedish and Danish?

Concerning the relationship between the Danish, Norwegian and Swedish, it is important to distinguish between writing and speech. Danish and Norwegian Bokmål are very similar in writing. This comes from the fact that Danish was the official written language in Denmark-Norway until 1814, and also for a while after the union was dissolved. The variant of bokmål that is used today can be said to be a “norwegianised” edition of the Danish-Norwegian common language, while nynorsk, based on Norwegian dialects, is less similar to Danish.

Swedish written language, however, is not similar to Danish or Norwegian. Among other things, Swedes use the letters ä and ö where Norwegians and Danes use æ and ø. (E.g. Swedish bär and öl vs. Danish and Norwegian bær and øl.)

When talking about spoken languages, the relationships are quite different - Norwegian and Swedish are very similar while Danish is sorta different. In fact, Norwegian and Swedish sound so similar in speech that most Danes don’t hear the difference (just like most Swedes can’t see the difference between written Norwegian and written Danish).

The fact that Danish is so similar to Norwegian in writing, but so different in speech, comes first and foremost from the fact that there is a considerable gap between writing and speech in Danish, while spelling and pronunciation
usually are much closer in Norwegian. This comes from the fact that
Danish pronunciation has changed a lot since Danish spelling rules were determined.

As for how well we understand each other, it depends on the country. Norwegians understand the others the best. This comes from the fact that Norwegian is kind of the love child of Swedish and Danish, with being very similar to spoken Swedish and to written Danish.  While Swedes and Danes have standardised versions of their languages that they use in the media, Norwegians show more pride in their dialects. Therefore it is much more common to hear many dialects of Norwegian and Norwegians get used to hearing variants of their languages, and this training helps to understand Swedish and Danish better (especially considering that Eastern Norwegian is closer to Swedish than some other Norwegian dialects). But overall Scandinavians understand each other if they put some effort in it. However, because of the high English proficiency among Scandinavians, many of us tend to switch to English instead of speaking in Scandinavian.

using aave to #reclaimthebindi

The reclaimthebindi​ and browngirlsgang​ hashtag has been giving me so much strength this week. Seeing all these desis’ beautiful face gives me aaalllll the feels. But I noticed a popular trend that I really think needs to be addressed.

In an attempt to tell white people/people stealing our culture that they’re being assholes, we’ve been using a shit ton of AAVE. Like we’re following this “use AAVE to look tough” kind of aesthetic? I don’t know if that makes sense? Like I fuck up sometimes too because I’m still learning the difference between Bronx slang and straight up AAVE since they seem so interconnected. (Gently call me out though, please - I’m still learning and I’m here for that.)

And ok - using AAVE to “look tough” while reclaiming your bindi is not ok. We can’t just call people’s shit out for appropriating our culture and making our culture a fashion statement and basically do the same to another group of people.

But also - when you drag desis down for using AAVE, keep intersectional identities in mind, because a lot of West Indian dialects are very similar to AAVE and a lot of desis grew up in areas that have similar, but not the fucking same, slang so it’s important to differentiate for everyone. (Like don’t drag without knowing your shit???)

Ok basically… non-Black desis (AAVE was formerly just called Black English Vernacular, right?) need to keep in mind how we’re also appropriating. And that shit’s not ok.

anonymous asked:

what's satoori?

you came to the right person to ask this question

korean has several dialects (as many other languages do) called ‘mal’ [speech], satoori or bang-eon. the standard language is pyojunmal or the standard korean found around Seoul. generally these big cities have the most standardized language usage as the tight knit community serves as a catalyst to language development

these dialects are similar and mutually intelligible meaning that a person from daegu a person from busan and a person from seoul can all converse in their dialects and still be understood

in korea, the only exception to this mutually intelligibility is jeju because the dialect spoken there is often classified otherwise [as mutually unitelligible] by korean linguists

the biggest different is that satoori is very tonal, so seoul dialect uses very little stress and has much more flat intonation, but gyeongsang dialect [satoori] is very tonal [think a bit more like chinese!]