Arthur’s face tho.
Arthur’s face tho.
brb drowning myself in the toilet
But which end of the hotdog are you supposed to look through??
like if you love robots, reply if you love robots, reblog if you love robots, ignore if you are former president george w. bush
There are a lot of speculative fiction writers out there working hard to create their own fictional worlds, with imagined histories, cultures and worlds. And that’s awesome! But what a lot of writers find intimidating is coming up with unique names for all of their characters and settings.
You could, of course, come up with a conlang. But making up a whole new language sounds so hard! Well, what if i told you it doesn’t have to be?
I’ve made a lot of conlangs in my time, and below is my simple method for making quick and useable conlangs.
It’s frankly sickening how many notes that “John is so fragile and brave/Mary doesn’t deserve the name ‘Watson’” post has gotten. Ewwwww, stop being gross, people.
Fragile? John? Teetering on the edge of a homicidal rampage-fragile, maybe. A delicate flower? Emphatically no.
Seriously, everyone focuses on “Sherlock’s Emotional Journey” this season, but the revelation of “John the Violence Junkie” is at least as important to S3. It’s not adrenaline that he craves, it’s violence; he’s not a sky diver or a fast driver, he’s a thug. We finally, really understand Mycroft’s “You aren’t haunted by the war, you miss it” comment, thanks to Sherlock’s elaboration: John was a doctor who went to war, because he wanted war. He first claims, in the very first ep, to have seen enough of “injuries, violent deaths, trouble” to last a lifetime, then breathes “Oh God, yes” to the offer of more, as if he’s been offered a blow job. He practically vibrates with excitement after his meeting with Mycroft as he checks his gun and watches out the window, gasping for a reason to use it. He shoots a man, shoots to kill (according to Sherlock) without knowing if he needs to, exhibiting “nerves of steel” and the morality of a psychopath as he laughs about it after, when he’d only known Sherlock for a day. Not “very loyal, very fast” but aching for death and destruction and seeing the opportunity with Sherlock. Mycroft knew from the beginning.
This season he’s on the prowl, spoiling for a fight, a healer who “knows how to sprain,” a grieving friend who beats the shit out of that unresisting friend when he realizes he’s been lied to and played, an angry husband who warns his wife that his anger is going to come out on occasion, that his control over it will slip—which is terrifying. But most of all, he’s a man who’s finally faced what he is—thoroughly dangerous and completely self-deluded. His tantrum at 221B is as much about not wanting to deal with that knowledge as it is about the revelation of Mary’s past, because they’re insisting that he look at it and acknowledge it, and they’re right to. At least one man has died because John Watson has lived an unexamined life, believing himself to be one of the angels as well as being on their side. Sherlock and Mary know better; they know themselves, and they know John, and now John does, too. He’s not better than them, he IS them, and that’s why he can forgive.
But a significant portion of fandom seems to be refusing to see that, even after the show itself makes it clear. Yes, John can be caring—when he’s not actively hurting people or itching to hurt people. Mary can be, too, and is, many times—it’s not an act, any more than John’s kindness is an act. They’re both complex, flawed, scary, dangerous people (and Sherlock is, too) and it’s both great and terrifying that they’ve found each other. John won’t have to hide who he is from Mary or from himself, now that he understands himself as well as Mary. What normal woman would see the whole truth about John Watson, the violence inside him, and not run screaming (if she was smart)? John gets that, and he appreciates that Mary knows and still loves him, that she can because of who she is. He’s determined now to do that for her (and for Sherlock), too. He can be at peace with who he is and who they all are, which is…scary, but amounts to a happy ending for this trio.
why is bob short for robert
how does one get ‘billy’ out of ‘william’?
How in hell do you get “Dick” from “Richard”?
you ask him nicely
you ask him nicely
i have been waiting for yEARS FOR THIS POST TO COME BACK YOU DONT UNDERSTAND
There’s a kid in my class named Richard Hunter
IT’S FUCKING BACK
Actually, if you want the answer to that: “Richard” was originally a variation of the latin name “Ricardus” (Ricard, etc) that was very difficult to pronounce for the medieval-celts. With their accents and general consonant usage, the name sounded closer to “Dichard” when spoken. Eventually, even the nickname”Rich” became “Dick.”
So there you have it. :)
So remember when we thought mofftiss were being really fucking clever because this text
reminded us of this handsome gentleman from doctor who
They told us in the first episode how Sherlock would survive the third.
STOP IT NO
MARK GATISS I DON’T KNOW WHETHER TO SHOOT YOU OR BLOW YOU
Oh educational system, where hast thou gone wrong when we first hear Lazarus and think of Doctor Who, and we use Wikipedia to inform us of a medical phenomenon that only vaguely references the Bible verse later.
For shame. XD
Anon: prompt: irene returns to london to see sherlock.
equalseleventhirds: also also we were all talking and OKAY au where bbc!irene is still a dominatrix but (like most sex workers) separates her professional personality from her real life so when she’s NOT WORKING she isn’t all super sexual and dominating and shit she’s just living her life and instead of meeting sherlock all naked and stuff she’s like wearing a sweater vest or something and looks totally normal and average and stuff and sherlock is SO CONFUSED
soyeahso: Pearls. Sweater set. Grey trousers. Still in Louboutins though.
Sherlock’s halfway through the list of wedding guests that absolutely do not belong at tables next to each other, when the text comes in. Let’s have dinner. He blinks at it for a moment, frowning as his mind churns over possibilities. He runs his thumb across the phone’s screen, and then taps out a reply.
They meet at a small restaurant only ten blocks away from Baker Street. Sherlock likes it because its quiet, and generally only frequented by regulars. The owner smiles broadly at him and welcomes him to a table, and he thanks the man kindly. He takes his seat, back to the wall, and proceeds to pretend he’s not interested in the world around him.
When she finally slips into the seat across from him, he’s already prepared a number of topics he wanted to discuss with her, and they all fall flat. She’s wearing a knit sweater, and her hair’s hanging at her shoulders. A pair of sunglasses sits astride her head, and a string of pearls is just visible around her throat. She’s not wearing any makeup, and her nails aren’t painted. It takes him a moment to even reconcile her with the woman he knew.
John rushes to a crime scene behind a local grocery store. Sherlock is already there upon arrival.
"What happened?" asks John.
"Male, early thirties, recently divorced, a janitor at a local elementary school, covered in Raisin Bran and dead as a doornail."
"God..," mutters John. "Didn’t we have one covered in Frosted Flakes yesterday? And Captain Crunch last week?"
"You’re right," says Sherlock as he puts away his magnifying glass, "this is the work of a cereal killer."