You locked him out
Why the fuck would you do that what the fuck is wrong with people at this company Jesus Christ we haven’t even started and I’m pissed at everyone
Pffft like I would be a responsible adult and actually follow the advice I asked for…
I’m hoping to repot them next week or after Obon, I’m not sure.
I had my mid-SS break yesterday and aside from not doing anything but laundry, I crawled into bed at 9 and only woke up twice due to the air conditioner ONLY RUNNING THREE HOURS and the heat waking me up. I think I’m ready, but these next two days are extra fun: politics, miscommunication, and language barriers galore as 3 teachers instead of 2 go to the school today, all of us following completely different guidelines!!
Some of you are reblogging because you think its funny that programmers would talk to ducks. I’m reblogging because I think its funny picturing a programmer explaining their code, realizing what they did when they explain the bad code, then grabbing the strangling the duck while yelling “WHY WAS THE FIX THAT SIMPLE!? AM I GOING BLIND!”
AS A PROGRAMMER I CAN TELL YOU THAT THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT YOU FUCKING DO WE HAD TO BAN THE DUCKS FROM MY CLASSES BECAUSE EVERYONE WOULD FLIP THE DUCK OR THROW IT AT A WALL OR SOMETHING WHEN THEY FIGURED OUT THE PROBLEM IN THEIR CODE
What if in an alternate universe instead of holding war councils, they held group therapy sessions?
I think it’s very unlikely that ‘all’ nations use the Latin incantations since I doubt Latin is inherently magical. I think Latin in the magical world probably behaved as a catch-all the same way it did in science and theology for muggles. Rome had an empire that spanned most of europe and the middle east + Northern Africa, and it lasted for a long time (the pax romana in europe is THE longest period of sustained peace in the continent’s history, all 200 years of it). While the intellectual’s spoke latin in the dominant/conqueror class, it became a touch-stone when the empire eventually crumbled and receded.
There are english-based spells in HP that probably have French, German, Italian, Spanish etc. counterparts, and the latin-based ones are just the ‘proper’ and ‘formal’ ways of doing something in that cultural sphere. Wizards in Africa doubtless use local languages and perhaps have their formalized structures in the root and classical languages of the region. magic in the Americas was probably stomped out harshly by colonizing European wizards, but doubtless endures and has its own schools.
In the far east, like Japan and China, you could argue that classical chinese is the ‘formal’ magical language using Chinese characters in a runic base, but Japan and Korea (nevermind south asian nations like thailand and vietnam!) have made great cultural efforts over centuries to keep the Chinese out (the Japanese alphabets and Korean Hangul writing systems).
I, personally, like the idea that magic has more to do with focus and intention, an expression of will, than in actually saying anything. The incantation is just another way of realizing the spell and forcing the effect into the physical world: you’re thinking it, feeling it, picturing it, and now you’re saying it. It doesn’t really matter what the language is, as long as you have the focus and will to execute it.
Definitely don’t think Latin is inherently magical.
Completely reject the idea that Han Chinese or Nigerian wizards would use Latin.
some muggleborn like “i want to be an astronaut when i grow up!”
wizard kids like “wtf is an astronaut”
"oh you know…the people who go to the moon"
implying that magical children would know literally nothing outside of the wizarding world
Imagine. England and North Italy, curled up in bed with the cats at their feet. All snug, warm, and lazy under a thick blanket. Maybe the radio’s still on, but the volume is so low, the music gets lost in the sound of rain rattling the windows. Sometimes thunder would split through the sky, but it’s rather far away from a thick blanket and a warm fireplace.
Artie with his face in feli’s neck and feli drawing circles on art’s back. Hmmmm
They weren’t supposed to fall asleep you know.
They had tickets to a play, implying that they meant to go and attend the performance. Arthur had had every possible intention of getting both of them ready to go and out the door for a delightful evening.
Furthermore, Feliciano adored having any opportunity to dress up. They did themselves up in suits and ties on a regular basis, but tuxedos were something else, something exquisite and grand. They really had meant to go to the play.
But part of the rigours of fancy events was polishing shoes. They both had the funds to have it paid for as a service, but there was something admirable about just doing it yourself with an old rag and some spit, an open tin of black polish between them and two pairs of shoes to buff.
"Your floor is too hard!" Thus the blanket, and eventually a few pillows on the old oak (which, for the record, probably needed a polishing as well).
"I thought I stopped up that draft last winter" and so the fire was struck in the hearth.
"Mm, did you check the traffic report?" a logical reason to switch on the old radio.
"Ah, I love this song…" Arthur stupidly pausing in his polishing, closing his eyes as a gentle voice crooned through the air. Having his lover choose that moment to lean back and put his head on Arthur’s shoulder just meant he didn’t start polishing again- he didn’t want to elbow him in the side or shake him off with the brisk motion.
If Feliciano Vargas was going to lean, he was eventually going to fall, so that was what he did, a half-polished shoe abandoned on the floor and his favourite pillow from Arthur’s bed clutched close under his head.
Arthur somehow thought he could polish a shoe while laying on his back next to his boyfriend. He’d been polishing shoes for at least three hundred years, but he still deluded himself with this fantasy.
They had several hours, Arthur let the shoe go and answered a nagging pull on his shoulder, rolling over into a comfortably warm embrace.
Necking was delightfully easy to do and gave immediate results: laughter and squirming when he nuzzled against Feliciano’s throat and kissed, sucked, even gnawed there- gently of course. Hips that bumped and rocked comfortably, warm fingers that went straight up the back of Arthur’s shirt to palm up and down his back, stroking his shoulders, and eventually took his shirt off.
"Stop that, we’ve got a play to attend," Arthur scolded, happily tangled in arms and legs and lifting his head to kiss his boyfriend’s lips.
"I know! I just really like your skin…" Happy kisses, light, easy, joyful. Calming actually, soothing instead of kicking everything up into a frenzy. They had shoes to polish and things like lube and condoms were too far away to walk all the way upstairs to go and fetch.
Much nicer to just nip and peck, relaxing into warm arms and smiling at the sensation of circles and triangles between his shoulder blades.
"What did that say?" words muttered with his eyes closed, head between the soft pillow and his lover’s jaw. "Felt like writing."
“Guess?" A single fingertip moving in sweeping, looping lines. Hmm…
"Very good! And this one?"
Arthur shivered at the feeling flashing back and forth over his spine.
"One more time…."
"…was that your signature?"
"Did you just write your name on me!?"
"Well you’re mine, so…” And the ridiculous sweetness that swept away bitter matters of pride. “What about this one?”
"Close, but no." Another sweeping, p, o, m-
"Write French on me and I’m smearing that tin of polish in your face."
Arthur laughed so hard Feliciano had to weasel his way around and kiss him,minutes melting away between caresses and silly games of colour, sound, and touch…
Arthur woke up with love marks on his shoulder and throat, sleepy and sluggish from warmth. He was still wearing sweat pants, his shirt probably coupled with Feliciano’s somewhere unseen under the blankets and pillows. It was raining out, there was thunder far, far away.
The radio was giving the six o’clock news report about deep traffic clogging the motorway into London proper, their play was mid-way through the first act.
Arthur kissed his lover’s cheek, nuzzled back down, and deemed it a good day.