looked at some photos of the inside of kowloon walled city and finally realized that part of what enticed me to those images are that they looked similar to what i would see in my childhood, visiting family relatives from my mother's side who were mostly merchants in the market in their hometown. the conditions of places that are very well used and not pretty but maintained by the users to the Best of their ability (the alley floorings had dirt between the tiles, but it was packed dirt, smoothed by daily sweepings)
sometimes my mother would shop alone and leave me with my uncle, who served for and delivered coffee and instant noodles to every part of the market. he was always busy running all over the place and so i actually got babysat by the people whose stalls were beside his. i remember an old lady who sold pots and pans, and an imposing man selling fermented cassava and yeast (the stall had this big scale installed on its ceiling that i always thought could be used to rock a baby to sleep). further out were some other family relatives, with trades ranging from school supplies to tea and rice. always came home with a full stomach, plastic wrapped snacks and soft cakes on my pocket, and some other new things
as far as i know the sprawling market had only one bookstore. it was kind of grimy but well lit and had a good circulation because it faced outside towards the dusty field that was the minibus station. because it was near the station i could always whine about how i hadn't got a new book in so long and my mother would concede, because we were going home and she was already so tired and only wanted to get into a minibus as soon as possible. the selection was not great. but the old man who manned the store was kind. almost always reading whenever we went in. most of the time i'd choose some attention grabbing magazines, but he would offered me something else that i didn't think i'd like but ended up liking anyway. if my love of reading started at any one place i think it was in that store
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we have english speaking guests at our house atm, and my mom asked where i'm going after i got up from the table and i said "u pičku materinu" AND THE UTTER JOY I FELT AT THAT MOMENT. KNOWING THAT THEY WOULDN'T GET WHAT I SAID.
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Is this courtship?
Danny is going to Gotham for his scholarship.
Good news! There's another halfa in the city, and he seems to be a good guy. Bad news: the nearest path to his university is through that halfta's haunt. He could take the long way around, but the costs would be more than his budget can handle, and he'd like to avoid dealing with a pissed-off Red Hood.
Hopefully the offerings will be enough to sate his annoyance (and help maybe, god that man has the most malnourished core he's ever seen).
Jason is getting incredibly confused over the strange gift baskets that keep appearing on his patrol routes.
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i'm surprised i haven't seen any text posts yet about the Unsubtle Differences between astarion’s tiefling party/high approval forest scene and the one you get after the goblin party.
there’s something so terribly interesting about how the conversation afterward plays out depending on which variation you pursue.
like, most people have seen the tiefling party version by now. astarion basking in the sunlight the morning after, playing off most of what tav says with relative ease, even when they ask about his scars and he tells them about cazador. his cadence is smooth and composed, his smile almost friendly, even though you know, as the viewer, he’s playing a game of manipulation at this point. the only real crack in his demeanor is if tav notices that cazador’s “poem” was written in infernal, which, understandably, startles him.
but recently i watched the goblin party version of this same scene, and everything reads so differently. unlike at the tiefling party, it’s still the middle of the night when astarion tries to leave, thinking tav is asleep—almost immediately after the act, in fact. when tav does speak to him, he’s visibly nervous, halting and stammering in the middle of lines delivered unflinchingly in the other version of the scene. he gestures broadly and fidgets more while talking, his smile comes and goes. there’s even some of his distinctive high pitched, fake laughter sprinkled throughout the exchange, almost identical to later scenes where he's very, very obviously uncomfortable (like if raphael mocks him and magics off astarion's shirt to show the party his scars in act 2, or when confronting the gur children in their cell in act 3, etc etc).
siding with the goblins represents something deeply familiar to astarion, a level of cruelty he's more than familiar with and embraces likely because cruelty and duplicity, to him, go hand-in-hand with the power and freedom he craves so badly—but he won't stay the night with this tav, even if he approves of their actions. no, in this case, he'll keep to what's familiar and attempt to leave them in the forest under the cover of the very same darkness he resents having been cast into by cazador. when he gets caught, it sets him on edge, and everything he says becomes such a blatant lie to save face that tav would have to be completely oblivious not to see through him, or maybe just not care enough to.
but if tav saves the refugees? challenges his worldview and comes out victorious? oh, he'll complain of the poor rewards for his trouble at the party and whine about it being boring, but he decides to stay with tav through the night while they're asleep and on past dawn. he takes a moment to enjoy the morning sunlight, returned to his life after two centuries without. the same is true if you have high enough approval that he asks before the party, in which case, you've almost certainly hit his biggest approval gains: trusting him and supporting his safety. maybe he doesn't trip over his words when he speaks because, well, maybe this is someone he doesn't have to worry about. someone who's already more than proven themselves a foolish, heroic sort with a bleeding heart or otherwise demonstrated that they're already in his corner. in other words, not a threat—at least not to him.
does any of this make sense. i wanna study this guy under a microscope.
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people's insistence on calling trans men boys is really ... something. once or twice it's fine but if someone literally never calls grown ass trans men men, it gets weird and infantilizing.
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One mistake I made a lot when I started learning English was writing both the auxiliary and the main verb in past tense—as in, "Did the rain stopped?" My English teacher had to really drill this grammar point into my head, she was like "the point of 'did' here is to indicate past tense, there's no need for another time marker." Me, genuinely baffled: "Why not?" Teacher: "Think of the 'ed' in 'stopped' as having migrated to the beginning of the sentence and become 'did'. So it's no longer in 'stopped'." Well I was sad to see it go. I pointed out that in French you'd say "The rain (itself) has it stopped?" and 'the rain' feels welcome to stay even though the whole point of the pronoun 'it' should be to replace it in a quicker way. But it would be sad if the noun & its pronoun never got to hang out together so we keep both <3
My teacher had a British look on her face that made my middle-school self wonder if maybe she thought my language wasn't optimally designed, and then she said that in English it would feel clunky to give the same piece of grammatical information twice, and "if you use 'did' then the -ed in 'stopped' doesn't add anything." That just sounded offensive, I mean since when do letters need to add something to a sentence? isn't it enough that they adorn the end of words & frolic with the others in friendship. If it bothers you so much just don't pronounce them. Idk, "did the rain stopped" felt so right to me. In the end my teacher said that "The rain has it stopped?" with the redundant pronoun is the more formal French phrasing anyway, and I was like yeah true we'd rather say "is it that it (itself) has stopped to rain?" and I felt like this really proved my point and I think she felt the same way
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