There’s a spanish “my name is cow” poem translation floating around, but its a word for word translation, without the same rhyme and meter so i.. fixed it
Yo soy vaca
en la noche,
cuando el sol
es ausente
y los hombres
se acuestan-
Yo trasnocho
lamo el pan.
(literally: I am cow/ in the night/ when the sun/ is absent/ and the men/ go to bed/ i stay up late/ i lik the bread)
We all know that Hoth was a simmering mess of hormones and stress and I would pay good money for a soap opera about them. Here are some things which Definitely Happened:
There’s a betting pool going on who takes Luke’s virginity. The favourites are Han and Leia, but Wedge Antilles has pretty good odds, and there’s a small contingent of aliens who are convinced it will be Chewie (after all, who could resist that Wookie musk? Headcanon: most alien races consider humans soft and gross. Most alien races find Wookies absurdly attractive. Han Solo isn’t the ladykiller; Chewie is.)
Leia and Han scream at each other in every corner of the base. Everyone is desperate for them to fuck. They do not. The sexual tension is so thick that it could be cut into blocks and sold as wall insulation. More than once they are ‘accidentally’ locked in a supply cupboard in the vain hope that claustrophobia will act as the catalyst that enables their frustration to spark into true love – or at least nasty raunchy cupboard sex. It does not. All that happens is that the offender has legally changed their name to escape the Wrath of Organa.
Someone paints a shirtless Han Solo on their X Wing. Leia is furious. Han is delighted: both at the highly flattering portrait (he has an eight-pack, he is shredded) and at Leia’s fury (you’re jealous princess/no I am not/you’re jealous, hey I can pose like that for you if you –). Hoth’s winter had nothing on the chilly silence that followed that suggestion.
Luke and Leia both have very graphic dreams about Han Solo. Han Solo has very graphic dreams about the twins – individually, together, he’s thirty fucking years old, why is his brain doing this to him.(Later on they will, individually, realise that due to Luke and Leia’s Force-bond they probably created a circle of Han Solo Sex Dreams: Leia had them, so Luke sensed her lust for Han which intensified his own lust for Han, which led to Luke having Han Solo sex dreams, which led to Leia lusting – and so on, and so on. For the sake of their sanity, they never share this revelation which each other.)
Luke is SO COLD. All the time. WHY DOES NO ONE APPRECIATE HOW COLD HE IS. He comes from a desert world. Of course he’s cold! What is all this white stuff? It was pretty for the first fve seconds but holy fucking Force it is so cold it burns and what the hell is going on with that? He bundles himself up in so many layers that he waddles rather than walks. Fearsome Last of the Jedi indeed.
Luke tapes a knife to a cleaning droid (disc-shaped things that swish around the base, sucking up dirt) and names it Stabby. Why, says Leia. Luke, the boy from Tatooine, shining and happy despite everything says why not. Why not indeed. Stabby is very fond of chasing Han. Han wants desperately to shoot the fucking thing– but then he sees big-eyed Luke and sharp-toothed Leia cooing over it and, well. A little bit of light stabbing is nothing, compared to those two smiling.
STABBY THE SPACE ROOMBA!
I am torn between wanting Stabby to be grabbed and evacuated along with the Rebels and make it to the next base, and wanting Stabby to get Vader.
Compromise: shortly after losing the Millennium Falcon, Vader, storming through the Rebel base, is startled to feel a sudden jolt of pain from the artificial sensors on his left leg prosthetic: a sharp sensation on his ankle. Surprised, because he sensed no threat–is the limb malfunctioning?–he looks down, and there is a cleaning droid with a knife taped to it, a little painted-on Rebel lieutenant’s insignia, and the word STABBY written on it.
He stares down at it, completely and utterly taken aback for the first time in over a decade. Fearlessly, it chitters back at him, sounding very triumphant.
He picks it up.
Off in the fractal weirdness of hyperspace, Rebels on several ships are surprised to find an update on Stabby’s kill-update feed, and then thoroughly shocked at the accompanying image: the upward-pointing camera has captured an image of Darth Vader staring down at the droid.
It’s the fastest news ever to travel through the Rebel grapevine, the mix of triumph and loss that is, they are certain, Stabby’s heroic last stand.
Until a day later, when the thing updates again, this time showing an extremely confused Imperial officer. And another, and another, and another, day after day.
They cancel the funeral.
Vader hasn’t done much just for the fun of it in two decades. Watching Imperial officers swear and clutch their ankles as a cleaning drone with a knife taped to it, an Imperial emblem, lieutenant’s insignia, and the word STABBY painted on it, bumps into them and then chatters triumphantly, he’s figured he’s earned.
STABBY FIC! STABBY STARWARS FIC! YOU HAVE MADE MY DAY!
But do they send in a rescue unit to reclaim their most honorable POW?
no, the rebels are all too happy to have vader backing one of their most valuable psychological weapons. stabby’s antics are invaluable for their ability to escalate tension within imperial ranks, and vader’s personal amusement means stabby will get to keep running his miniature interference mission for a long time to come
YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSS
STABBY LIVESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS
Grand Moff Tarkin limps into Vader’s quarters. Again. “Lord Vader, enough of this.”
“I have altered the droid; pray I do not alter it any further.”
(If there’s one thing young Anakin Skywalker can appreciate, it’s a hot-rodded maintenance droid, c’mon.)
VADER PUTS A LIGHTSABRE ON STABBY
HE CALLS IT HIS APPRENTICE
MY SON WILL NOT TURN TO THE DARKSIDE BUT MY SON’S STABBY SON WILL
Stabby is eventually recovered and given a medal after the defeat of the Emperor, but his poor little chassis is too badly damaged by then to even hold onto the knife anymore. His internal mechanism is removed and upgraded, and then the Master Droid Tech charged with fixing him casts around for a new casing to put him in.
“Hey!” calls a teenaged Poe Dameron, walking into the Droid repair shop. “I got this decommissioned BB-8 chassis they said to bring in here. It needs a new owner. Captain said I can have it if I can find a new mechanism for it.”
The Master Droid Tech looks at Stabby, then at the BB-8 chassis, then back at Stabby. Stabby turns his unsheathed ocular sensor to Poe and beeps adoringly. (This is a common if relatively new reaction to Poe Dameron, who has just graduated from his Awkward Stage.)
“Yeah, I got one for you right here,” the Tech says, grinning.
Toy manufacturer Lego Group has
announced it will be creating a set of Legos based around the women of
NASA, Community Specialist Hasan Jensen wrote in a blog post for the company on Tuesday.
The idea for the project was originally pitched by Maia Weinstock, who submitted it to Lego through the company’s Lego Ideas program.
The set will include five women who contributed to NASA’s
mission, including computer scientist Margaret Hamilton, mathematician
Katherine Johnson, astronaut Sally Ride, astronomer Nancy Grace Roman
and astronaut Mae Jemison, the first African-American woman to enter
space in 1992. Read more (2/28/17 5:53 PM)
As a transgender man who is going to be having a baby, I am so glad that by technicality my child will be able to fulfil the prophecy and defeat Macbeth.
To be on the safe side, get a C-section? Macbeth really needs defeating.
Ironically I do have to have a C-section due to a hip problem I have. So it’s double accurate.
I like how this post implies that Macbeth is still out there, most likely terrorizing people, and no one has been able to stop him
no one who speaks 2+ languages ever “randomly” switches in the middle of a sentence. like that just…….. doesn’t happen?
the only times people will get confused and mix them up is when:
a) they’re in an environment where they have to alternate between speaking two languages often/quickly, and the brain can’t keep up and messes up.
b) they’ve been in an environment where they have to speak/hear one language for a long time, and when they change settings it takes them a moment to not instinctively go for the other language.
c) they’re hearing one language (music, radio, background chatter) and trying to speak another
interrupting themselves in the middle of a conversation because they can only remember the word they wanna say in another language
having the perfect idiom/expression for a situation but it doesn’t translate as well
having the perfect word for a situation but it doesn’t even fucking exist in that language
if ur character is out in public with their family, i can guarantee u that they’ll talk shit about people around them in their native tongue
calling their significant others pet names is a conscious choice. it doesn’t just “slip up”. it may come naturally with time, but saying a word in another language is something you like… immediately notice
swearing is complicated and i’m not getting into it rn
anyone who has ever picked up another language has been pissed at specific vowels and pronunciations and this is the gospel truth
[forgets a word] [attempts to explicitely describe the thing they’re trying to say] [forgets a word while trying to explain themselves] “oh jesus christ nevermind”
will know how to speak a language but not know any of the mathematical/scientific/biological terms because they went to school in a different language and no one learns, like, algebra in a second language unless they studied in multiple languages.
[knows a word but they’ve only ever read it and they have no idea how it’s pronounced]
there’s probably more stuff that i’m forgetting rn but that’s like, the main bits. thank u for ur time
If I’m tired I might slip an accidental word of Russian in a sentence of otherwise sensible English. This is followed by an immediate moment of wait wtf was that sentence right why does it seem funny why are people looking at me funny. It may take a minute to figure out what I did. Most listeners, also, will generally not quite realise that wasn’t English, and will be wondering what the heck word was that. Unless they also know the other language, in which case they understood you regardless and are laughing at you.
This also tends to happen to me when I’ve been reading in Russian or watching movies or speaking to someone in Russian. But not always. Sometimes you are just that damn tired. The Russian word is usually a well-used, familiar one, so you can get stuff like ‘put on the чайник [kettle]’. Or it can surreptitiously replace a verb or descriptor.
Like, I want to be made into a beautiful glass thing. I want to be something treasured for a long time and rarely talked about. I want to live in the home of someone who loved me, and touched now and then in silent memory.
I want people to forget that I’m in there, I want the memory of what I am to pass out of the family’s knowledge. I want to be given away, and put out in a thriftstore somewhere.
I want someone to buy my ashes for $4.99 and put me in a window and love the colors. I want to cast beautiful, fractious and curving sunlight across the wall, sparkling and glowing and shimmering, depending on the time of day. I want someone to take a picture of me with the moon behind me, luminous and mysterious.
I want a witch to buy me and put me in her work room. I want an artist to leave me on their worktable. I want to inspire people and make them smile. I want to be warm from sunlight or chilly from the cool air. I want to be packed in newspaper carefully when they move. I want to be given as a holiday or graduation present to someone’s kid, I want to be given as a housewarming gift as a reminder of home.
And god, then, hopefully some day, I want to roll off the table, I want that globe to crack.
And then I want to haunt the living shit out of the future.
Holy shit, the comment made this sixty times more awesome and now I want this to be done to me too.
Steel Phoenix Studios 