pretty sure by english they mean american

Can I say something about this Got7 'scandal'?

Okay lemme start out with an intro.

While in LA Mark’s family threw Got7 a private pool party for friends and fam. Younghae did not attend said party, he was back at the hotel.

While at this (private) party Mark’s friends recorded some things and put them on Snapchat. These things were

A.) BamBam saying nigga
B.) Yugyeom allegedly being drunk
C.) Mark’s (new?) tattoo

Now me as a young black girl surrounded by other black people, I am used to the word being used in all different kinds of contexts.

I have heard on several different accounts that one of Mark’s friends told him the word meant friend or buddy or something along those lines.

Lets stop right here

Mark’s friends are telling BamBam what the word nigga means. This CLEARLY INDICATES that BamBam had no prior knowledge as to what this word means. Don’t you think if BamBam knew what that word meant before hand he wouldn’t have used it?
BamBam isn’t 100% fluent in English and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t really know American history enough to realize where that word derives from, so is it his fault for ignorantly using a word he doesn’t know the full meaning of?

I didn’t think so. Lets move on

Yugyeom and his underage drinking.

The legal age to drink in Korea is 19. The legal age to drink in the U.S is 21. With Yugyeom being 19 years old, it’s very normal for him to drink alcohol and such in Korea. But because he is not used to American customs he probably didn’t know or doesn’t remember that what he was doing was illegal.

What I mean when I say he probably doesn’t remember is that Got7’s managers should have told all of Got7 what they can and cannot do in America. Like, you know when you go somewhere with your mom and your told to behave and act your age when you go somewhere with her so you song embarrass her? Its kind of like that. Got7 should have been guided through what’s right and wrong and what legal and illegal (like drinking under the age of 21). But I won’t blame Yugyeoms drinking on management, because everything comes back to Snapchat. I’m 100% sure that Mark’s friends knew that Got7’s party was a private party and they are old enough to know not to put these foreigners (besides Mark) in jeopardy like they did. They shouldn’t have snapchatted but they can’t take back anything they did so lets just drop it okay?

As for Mark’s tattoo, I haven’t seen the tattoo and I personally don’t give a shit what Mark does to his body. He doesn’t have to ask our permission for every little thing he does. Mark Tuan is 22 years old, he is old enough to make his own decisions so leave him alone.

Another thing about Mark, some of you guys are saying that he should’ve told BamBam that the word he said is a ‘bad’ word and he shouldn’t have said it but whose to say Mark didn’t tell him that? We all know that Mark is a quiet person so if he told BamBam what he said was wrong he wouldn’t have told him in front of others.

You guys are also saying that Mark should drop his friends immediately. But I don’t think you understand what you’re asking him to do. Mark his been friends with these people for a long time, asking him to stop talking to them just like that would be like asking him to drop Got7 and JYPEntertainment. He can’t do that because he has a connection with these people the same way he has a connection with Got7 and JYP. If Mark left Got7 it would take us FOREVER to stop hurting and stop thinking about him and how Got7 would get along without him. We would hurt, we would cry, we wouldn’t know what to do with ourselves, and I imagine that’s how Mark would feel if he listened to us and dropped his friends just like that.

Phew that was a lot. And with that being said Got7 are humans. JB, Mark, Jackson, Jinyoung, Youngjae, BamBam, and Yugyeom are all humans who make mistakes and we have to forgive them because they’re still young and they don’t know much about the World yet. If we threaten to leave them every time they do something wrong or do something imperfect in our eyes, they’ll stop trusting us. They’ll stop talking to us like we’re their friends, like they’ve known us for a long time. They’ll become distant and we don’t want that. So let’s all find a way to move on and get past this peacefully. Lets keep supporting Got7 in all they do, through all of their ups and downs okay? Got7 needs us like we need Got7 so lets give them our support like we never have before!!!!

IGOT7 Fighting!
Got7 Fighting!

anonymous asked:

(Part 1/2) I'm pretty sure you're sick of here/explaining this, but please bare with me one more time. I understand how using the term "chakras" is appropriative (I use the term "energy centers" now), but how is "spirit animal" appropriative too? It's the alternative English term for the Native American term they use for the same concept. Wouldn't by that logic, "energy centers" be appropriative as well, despite being a different word(s) in a different language since it means the same thing?

Although it may have a similar meaning, spirit animals and things of the like hold their own sacred meaning to various indigenous tribes which is why it’s considered cultural appropriation. Since that’s the case, us folks who do not belong to such a culture refer to these kinds of animal spirits as muses, patronuses, or even familiar spirits.

About Jack’s accent

(1/3) I saw your post about Quebec swears and figured you were the best person for a second opinion on Jack’s accent. Ngozi describes him as having “a slight French-Canadian accent,” like Kris Letang (omgcheckplease tumblr com/post/75562630694). But IRL Jack would be fully bilingual and speak English without an accent. Right? I need someone else from Quebec who knows the comic to reassure me I’m not crazy. (Although obviously Ngozi’s opinion takes precedence, since it is her world.)

(2/3) So, Jack grew up in 1990s Montreal with a French-speaking father and a mother whose first language is not French. It’s never outright stated that Alicia is American, but it’s heavily implied: she comments on Bob’s accent at their first meeting (twitter com/ngoziu/status/509361302322806784) and she attended Samwell, so she’s almost certainly an anglophone American. Which means Jack would’ve grown up speaking both languages at home–French with his dad, English with his mum.

(3/3) So Jack would speak both fluently. This has certainly been true of all the dual-language families I know. Thoughts? (Jack’s surname also bugs me, but I’ve mostly let that one go. I remember being really surprised when Jack was first shown speaking French to his father since Zimmermann is definitely not a Québecois name. I had just assumed that Jack’s mother was the French speaker. I’ve decided to believe that some German man married into Bob’s family some time back and leave it at that.) 


Okay, I’ve thought about this a bit, nonnie, and here are my thoughts:

My sister pointed out that all Québeckers, even those who speak only English, have the same accent. It’s true. Québec English is different than Canadian English, which is also different to US English.

So, we have Bob Zimmermann, who speaks French as a first language and English with a strong accent, but he gets better. We also have Alicia, who’s probably American and she speaks with an American accent she tries maybe to tone down so Bob can understand her for the first couple of years. Jack is a 90′s kid, which means TV, and it was probably a happy mix of French Canadian kids show (PASSE-PARTOUT), English Québec/English Canadian shows and American shows.

Where does that leave us? Jack’s English is probably a mess.

And I may not know much about those particularities, but I know about being a bilingual kid. And what decides the language and the accent is mostly a matter of compartmentalization.

Let’s say Alicia took care of the food and the house chores. Well, Jack probably has his strongest US accent when dealing with those, and probably when he’s exasperated with the boys (like a mom would be exasperated with her kids.)

His first instinct, when seeing a match, is to talk and swear in French, because that’s what his dad did and that’s probably how they bonded. But! Whenever he’s into hockey-robot mode, he speaks a clean cut Canadian English with a tiny bit of Quebec accent, because that’s what he associated to professional hockey.

And the interesting part, is that he may associate Bitty’s Georgia accent with words meaning baking and desserts. I’m pretty sure he’s using y’all when he’s comfortable with his friends (but never in front of cameras, because that’s hockey-robot Jack’s domain!)

What does it mean with words of love? I’ve seen him call Bitty cute French pet names (and some weird ones, remind me to make a post on that), but honestly, if Alicia is American and Bob not really affectionate, I doubt Jack goes back to French for words about love. And about sex, well, his first experiences were probably with the Internet and English speaking people (coughcough Parse) so I don’t think he’ll be using French for that too. (Also, French and Québec swears during sex scenes is capital WEIRD and a total ladyboner crusher, as confirmed by at least six CP! fans from Montréal).

I’d like to know what languages Jack thinks in, because that’s probably the language he reverts to whenever he’s tired, exasperated or having a panic attack. I’d like to think that it’s French, but it’s probably ¾ French with a handful of English words thrown in the mix.

(Poly-lingual people will get this: there’s nothing better than someone who understand you in ALL your languages, so you can jump from one to another without worrying to be understood. I think Bitty will get there eventually.)

As for the surname Zimmermann, don’t worry, Québec is a mix of ALL ETHNICITIES and we don’t even bat an eye when people have weird surnames.

I hope this helped, Anon! :D

anonymous asked:

I just saw the Beauty and the Beast teaser, and it made me think... Don't you find it strange that whenever a story takes place in Europe, here, France, they use English actors? Like, yeah, that's European enough, but let's not use other languages, or other nationalities, we wouldn't want to have to actually make an effort. That's why I'm always pissed when Americans say white people are represented in American media. I'm not. I'm pretty sure you aren't either.

Hi, to be honest it doesn’t bother me that much that they use English as a language and English actors, I understand that they need to appeal to their primary target audience (here English speakers) and therefore will need to make the story understandable for them first and foremost. 

However… I do think Americans need to realize that what they mean by “white representation” is really “white anglo-saxon protestant representation”. Even if they are as white as snow I don’t think say… a Chechen or whoever else will feel represented in American movies just because they happen to share the same pigmentation as Tom Cruise in the latest American power fantasy block buster. In the same way, it’s not “black representation” it’s African American representation, don’t expect a Somalian or a Chadian to recognize themselves in those movies because their reality is very different from the reality of an US-American. 

Those calls for “representation” wouldn’t be a problem if they confined them to themselves instead of acting like they are something to be globally accepted and followed; the problem is that you have Americans who will watch a French movie or an Italian movie or whatever European movie and then will cry that the demographic presented inside of it isn’t representative of theirs, or that the story is offensive according to their construct (some of their reaction to Intouchables were the perfect example of that). Those things are valid for them and them only, and they need to realise that. 

Schlaf Gut

also on ao3

All German is from Google so feel free to correct it.


It was three in the morning, and Beca probably should have been asleep like the rest of the Bellas were. She could hear Chloe’s soft snores from the bed across from her, and since she heard nothing from any of the surrounding rooms, she assumed the rest of the a capella singers were snoozing as well.

And, really, any sensible, normal person would have been sleeping at three in the morning.

Beca was not normal and, at the moment, she didn’t feel very sensible, because no matter what she tried, she couldn’t get that damn German out of her head. She had tried so hard to play it off as a simple admiration of talent because, really, Kommissar was talented. She was also six feet of blonde, breathtaking German goddess.

A huff of irritation escaped her. Yeah, she had always thought she might be bisexual. Or, at the very least, not straight. Her official meeting with Chloe could have turned into a porn plot if Beca hadn’t ushered her away, and the redhead was definitely great to look at. But she played all of that off as sheer desperation. It had been years since she had a proper relationship – she tended to scare everyone away with the sarcastic, biting humor and the headphones and default bitch-face. So it seemed logical that she would start branching out more in an attempt to feel a little less lonely.

She couldn’t blame it on desperation this time. She had a boyfriend. Jesse. Jesse, who introduced her to the joys of movies and was often so disgustingly cliché in his displays of affection that it was adorable.

Jesse who was more like a brother to her than a lover.

She hadn’t really noticed it until she had something to compare it to. The first day the Bellas met Das Sound Machine at the car show, all logical thought had fled. Faced with Kommissar, Beca went weak in the knees and every comeback she said came out as blunt, blatant flirtations.

Not one of her proudest moments.

She chalked it up to being anxious and distracted, but every subsequent meeting after that had only strengthened it. Kommissar was gorgeous and the brunette just couldn’t help telling her so. And really, who the hell has hands that soft? Or hair that great? Or a body that perfect? Or—

Fuck.

This wasn’t just desperation. She couldn’t even pretend it was desperation. This was just flat-out infatuation, and she was an asshole. A very not-straight asshole with a boyfriend who absolutely doted on her.

Yup. She was an asshole.

She wasn’t going to get any sleep. With a low groan of annoyance at her own brain, she rolled out of bed and left the room. If she couldn’t sleep, might as well explore the hotel. There was a vending machine on the floor above the Bellas’ hall. What was the harm in a little caffeine if she couldn’t sleep anyway?

Beca didn’t even feel tired. If anything, she felt just as wired and awake as she had during their performance at Worlds just a few hours ago. It was so strange feeling this, and all because of some snarky German who forced her to question her sexuality. Go figure.

The elevator dinged and stopped, doors opening into the alcove area where the other four elevators were located. Beca pushed out of the doors and headed for the vending machine, rounding the corner at a speed that was definitely too fast for the middle of the night.

And as her wonderful luck would have it, she nearly collided with someone walking directly toward her.

She didn’t have to look up to know who it was. She would recognize this person anywhere and why the hell did she smell like cinnamon?

“Tiny Maus! We run into each other often, it seems.”

Beca expected her to be cold, angry… hell, annoyed, at least. Instead, Kommissar sounded vaguely amused and perhaps even jovial. That wasn’t fair.

“I do have a name, you know,” she groused in reply, glaring up –way up– at the six-foot-tall goddess. Her heart fluttered a little. For fuck’s sake, Beca, chill.

“Oh? Hm. And here I thought meine kleine Maus was all you replied to.” Her tone was teasing, almost careless. And it was doing things to Beca’s thoughts that it shouldn’t have been.

“Yeah, well, that’s just because your sexiness distracts me.” A beat later, she groaned and her head fell forward into her palm. “I’m too tired for this shit.” Liar. She was the exact opposite of tired. Maybe if Kommissar thought she was exhausted, she would go away.

… Wait. Had the Kommissar just called her “my tiny mouse”?

“If you are so tired, why are you not asleep?” The blonde arched a brow curiously, and pressed further, “And why are you on my floor?”

“You have a vending machine. I definitely didn’t come here to gawk at your gorgeous self. … And I need to shut the hell up.” Every time she opened her mouth in this woman’s presence, she dug herself a deeper hole. This was ridiculous.

Kommissar laughed. Actually laughed. And Beca’s resolve to shut up flew out the window.

“Why does your laugh sound like angels singing? That’s not okay. That is so not fair.”

Klein Maus, it amuses me to see you so… heated and annoyed?” She glanced at Beca for clarification, brow furrowing as she tried to find the correct English words.

“Hot and bothered. And I am not!” Beca snapped defensively. “It’s just hard to think straight around you!”

Kommissar’s smile morphed into a smirk as she looked down at the tiny Bella. This girl was so very small and adorable. “Ja. You are. If it eases your mind, I find it difficult to think “straight” around you as well.”

“… Um.”

The brunette’s face flushed. Was Kommissar flirting, or just unable to find the right words? It was so hard to tell with her. And dammit, why was cinnamon so appealing on her? “… Come again?”

The German stared at her. This time she was genuinely confused, and it was impossible to decode English without Pieter here. He had the upper hand in this country, having spent some time abroad here, and he knew more of the language and how best to translate it. “Come… where?” she asked.

Beca groaned. “What did you say?”

“Ah, I see. Why did you not just say “repeat yourself”? You Americans and your unrelated phrases. I will never understand them.” She rolled her eyes. “However, I said, “if it eases—” ”

“No, I heard what you said, I mean what did you mean by that?”

Kommissar stared at her and Beca was pretty sure that she was about to drown in the blueness of her eyes. That’s so cheesy. Seriously, how could anyone’s eyes be that blue? Did she wear contacts or paint her eyeballs or absorb the sky or what? Not cool.

“Perhaps I should call you ahnungslose Maus,” mused the Aryan beauty before she dips her head –okay, it’s more like head and shoulders because the height difference is ridiculous– to catch the Bella’s lips.

Ohfuckohfuckohfuck—oh fuck me played on repeat in Beca’s mind just before the part of her brain capable of thinking shuts off completely. This incredible, gorgeous, talented, flawless woman was kissing her. Kommissar was kissing her. Das Sound Machine’s ruthless and very intimidating leader was kissing her. And all Beca could do was wrap her arms around the blonde’s neck and kiss her back, licking, sucking, biting at her lips. She felt weak in the knees and if the Kommissar hadn’t been holding on to her hips, she was pretty sure she would have collapsed.

Beca didn’t know how long it lasted before they pulled apart, and she couldn’t bring herself to care. Her breath was ragged and shallow, eyes closed, lips parted as she tried to catch her breath… and failed. Miserably.
A chuckle reminds her that Kommissar is still inches from her. “Have I taken your breath, Tiny Maus?”

It was so ridiculous and cheesy coming from the German that Beca barked out a laugh, Kommissar’s forehead still pressed to hers. When she finally caught her breath and trusted herself enough to speak, she swallowed and pulled back slightly. “Maybe just a little, you gorgeous thief.” Dammit. She bit her lip –had Kommissar bitten it? It felt like she had— and looks up at the incredible woman standing before her. “I-I should… I need to… Chloe will wonder… my room?”

It was hard enough to understand the tiny Bella when she spoke proper sentences, but this broken English left Kommissar confused for a solid thirty seconds before she was able to piece together what she meant. “Ah. Of course. Your roommate will wonder, ja?” When Beca nods, she presses a quick kiss to the brunette’s forehead. “Geh, kleine maus,” she murmured. “Mine is that one,” she pointed lazily to the first room of the floor. “If you are unable to rest. Schlaf gut, meine kleine maus.

“Uh. Yeah. You too. Get your beauty sleep. Not that you need it.” Kommissar laughed as she turned to return to her room, and Beca thought it might have been nicer of the world to just swallow her whole on the spot.

Unable to determine whether what had just happened was great or terrible, Beca returned to the elevator to head back to her room.

It wasn’t until she actually reached the room and tried to get back in that she realized she had left her key. There was no way in hell that she was going to wake Chloe –or anyone else—to get into a room, and the office was such a long way away. She weighed her options briefly, sighed, and returned to the floor above her.

Her knock was timid, but the Kommissar answered quickly. A blue eye peered through the door before a chuckle and smile followed, and the door swung open. “Tiny Maus. I see you could not sleep?”

Beca pouted. “I locked myself out.” The snicker she received was not very comforting. “I’m just fine sleeping in the hall if you don’t cut that out,” she grumbled.

“Maus, it is amusing. And more amusing that you have ended up in my room.” She closed the door and gestured vaguely to the room. “There is only one bed. You may share it or I can relinquish it, whatever you prefer.”

“What? Dude, no. I’m not kicking you off your own bed.” The brunette rolled her eyes, wandering toward the bed and laying down there. Kommissar’s laugh brought her attention to the blonde, and she glared up at the German. “What?”

“You are so tiny,” was all she said before Beca gestured her over. “Oh, tiny Maus, my name is Luisa. So that you stop calling me Kommissar. It is a title but not the way I wish a friend to know me.”

Beca scoffed. “Friend, huh? I guess that’s better than rival?”

“Friend, or more. You did not let me finish. Stubborn Maus.”

“How many variations of “Mouse” can you find?”

“Many. Tiny Maus. Stubborn Maus. Eager Maus. Feisty Maus.” The blonde flopped unceremoniously onto the bed, and immediately curled into Beca’s side. It was incredibly amusing to watch the six-foot-tall German Amazon try to make herself small enough to fit under Beca’s arm, but she tried as hard as she could.

“You’re not gonna have much luck, you moose.”

“Moose?”

“Yes. Moose.”

“… Hm. I suppose it is only fair. And I believe my luck is fine – I have a beautiful woman in my bed. Luck is on my side, Tiny Maus.”

Beca flushed bright pink and was suddenly thankful for the darkness in the room. “So… Luisa?”

Luisa hummed in approval, liking the sound of her name on Beca’s tongue. It suited her – the tiny Bella had a wonderful accent she would have to nudge along sometime. Perhaps she could teach the brunette German, or French, or any number of languages.

For now, she simply wanted to sleep and be near to the little brunette who had caught her eye.

Schlaf gut, meine Elch.

Schlaf gut, meine kleine Maus.


Ahnungslose Maus – clueless mouse

Geh, kleine Maus – go, tiny mouse

Schlaf gut – goodnight

Mein elche – my moose.

English Dialects: Defence? Defense?

For most of my life, I’ve always had a kind of “British English is the right English” attitude. Of course, being Australian, I use the British spelling anyway, and every time I would write ‘colour’ without the 'u’, or spell 'realise’ with a 'z’, someone would point out to me that it was wrong. The American way was wrong apparently.

Anyway, when I started getting into languages and when I started picking up etymology as an interest, I soon realised that English dialects are more interesting than I was taught to believe. So in this post, I’ll explore the complexities of a magnificently strange, truly global language.

Starting with defence.

In Australia, we spell it 'defence’. In the U.K., they spell it the same way. In fact, I’m pretty sure in all the large English speaking countries apart from the U.S.- Canada, South Africa, New Zealand and Ireland- all spell it with the 'c’. And America is alone with 'defense’.

You see American English is always seen as the bastard child of “proper English” but let me submit to anyone who has studied even a little bit of world history, the U.S. (or the former British colonies) have existed for almost ALL OF MODERN ENGLISH HISTORY. I mean Modern English had fully developed out of Middle English in the mid 17th century. America was “discovered” and colonised by the English in 1607. That’s a whopping gap of ZERO years.

Defense comes from Middle English. It came from the Old French 'defens’ (hence the Modern French ’défense’), which in turn came from the Latin 'defensum’- the past neuter participle of the verb 'defendere’ meaning “to drive away, to guard, to defend”.

In fact, 'defence’ was first used by the British in 1935 (they had changed it because of spelling traditions, see: pence, dunce).

So really, the American way is the proper spelling.

But that’s really not my point. The point is that it is far too simplistic to assume that because English is called as such, that British English is the “proper English”. 

And for me at least, this whole discussion is pointless. Although it is fascinating to track the history of a word, the point of language and spelling is to provide a standard that people can adhere to and understand. As long as you can understand it, and as long as you can spell it in a way people can understand, IT DOESN’T MATTER. One of the reasons why I love languages but hate grammar Nazi's is because language is always changing. A set of rules written a hundred years ago obviously cannot keep up with language. Languages are always absorbing new words, and pronunciations, and grammatical structures- and to people who say that those new rules are not 'proper’: Screw you all. You are ruining the beauty of language.

So dear Tumblr:

You are right when you pronounce 'gif’ with a hard 'g’.

You are right when you pronounce 'gif’ with a soft 'g’.

You are not right when you pronounce 'gif’ with the word 'pineapple’.

As long as people can understand what you’re trying to say with reasonable ease, you are doing it right.

There are actually many more words I want to talk about (in re: English dialects and their etymology/spellings) so I think this will become something of a series.

(Btw I think I have about ten red squiggly lines in this post due to my British English spelling lol)