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cin-cant-donate-blood · 8 months

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Today we're learning about criminals, prostitutes, secret languages and medieval heretical sects!

I want to rant about Swedish etymology, specifically regarding the word bög. It is pronounced a bit like "beg," but with the lips pursed to an O and with a long vowel (IPA: \bøːg\).

The word means "gay man" and occupies a somewhat complicated place somewhere between a slur and the established word for homosexuality. I don't really like the phonoaesthetics of the word, but then again, perhaps I just had it hurled at me one too many times in elementary school.

Anyway, etymology.

There are two main competing etymologies for this word. I'll start with the one that I think is less likely: that the word is related to English bugger and French bougre. These words have been used in various parts of Europe to mean "sodomite" for centuries, deriving from accusations leveled at the Bogomil and Cathar heresies by the Catholic Church during the medieval period. These groups were gnostics, and (according to the Church) hated the sinful physical world to the point of being antinatalists: people who believe having children is morally wrong. So far this might in theory be true, but they were also quite dubiously accused of encouraging sodomy among followers to this end. The word bugger itself is presumed to either come from Bogomil or Bulgarian, since the Balkans were the origin point of these heresies.

We know for a fact that the word was borrowed into Swedish as buger (bugern, bugrar, bugrarna) around 1900, a word used by, among others, Swedish literary titan August Strindberg. That's also where the etymology for bög becomes a bit troublesome, because bög does not appear to have been a warping of the pronunciation of this word: it is already known to have existed in the Swedish lexicon at this time.

The alternate explanation goes back to the knallar, peddlers in particularly mid-southern Sweden (Västergötland/Westrogothia) who walked door to door selling whatever they could carry with them in the countryside. These people saw their peak around the 18th and 19th centuries, before declining into obscurity at the start of the 20th. These wandering salesmen are a fascinating topic in their own right, but what's particularly important for us is their secret language, Månsing (sometimes Monsing). The Swedish language has a rich and fascinating vocabulary of words I like to call "permanent slang." These words come from thieves' cants, the secret languages of professionals (such as Månsing and Knoparmoj, the chimneysweep language), and several minority languages like Yiddish and Romani Chib. Well-known Swedish words like tjej (girl), jycke (dog) and sno (steal) are all regarded as slang in the public eye, even though the words have been in use for well over a century, if not several centuries. Since slang is usually either quickly invented and forgotten or incorporated into standard language, this is very interesting in my opinion.

One such source for "permanent slang" is Månsing. The language is extinct now, and only caught the attention of linguists when it was already in decline, but we still have a few hundred vocabulary words documented, and one of the oldest and most widespread is bögis. This word bears a striking resemblance bög, and the -is ending is a very common Swedish diminuitive, probably first introduced in Månsing where it was probably borrowed from latin, such as in the Månsing word for dog, kanis (from canis). This ending was then (perhaps humorously) added to other words, like jamis, cat (from the Swedish verb jama, to meow).

The problem is the meaning of the word. Bögis does not mean gay, sodomite, or anything of the sort, it means peasant or farmer. The related word bögishäck means farm, and so on.

The reason why this is still a plausible origin of bög has to do with the relationship these peddlers had with farm owners. The knallar were seen as anything from semi-honest traders to downright scam artists and smugglers, so what would farmers have been from their perspective? Either prospective customers or potential victims to mislead and make money off of. This use of the word bögis came to enter city slang, where it took on a new meaning among people who had different life experiences.

In the late 19th century, slang and cant dictionaries start reporting the word bögis or bög as being part of the lexicon of the lower layers of the growing city of Stockholm. The "lumpen," the thieves and prostitutes, used the word to either mean "someone who is easily fooled" or as a synonym for "mark" or "target," that is, someone you intend to either sell something to, or rob. The connection to the way the knallar used it is fairly obvious.

Over time, the word came to usually refer specifically to the customer of a prostitute, and eventually specifically one of a male prostitute, and then also the male prostitute himself, though the path there was long. In the early 20th century, bög was still competing with the previously mentioned buger, as well as with sodomit, kvinnohatare (woman-hater), homofil, homos, and several words relating to pederasty.

By the 1910s it appears that bög was winning out, and as the gay movement came to Sweden in the 70s, the word began to be reclaimed by activists, though the exact level of offense the word carries is still a bit complicated, as mentioned.

This etymology makes bög a sister word to the English word gay, which was also originally slang used in growing cities by thieves and prostitutes. It also connects it to schwul, a German word with a similar story.

This also gives us an interesting social history of the LGBT+ movement: perhaps the reason why queer rights became an issue in the 20th century is because there was no such thing as a queer subculture until the 19th century, and the reason why it emerged then is very specifically because that's the when big U Urbanizarion took place, and thus when urban crime and underground communities emerged, which have a very distinct character from their rural counterparts. In other words, maybe big cities led to the emegence of an underclass of thieves and prostitutes, and maybe we have thieves and prostitues to thank for queer rights today! That's just a speculation, though.

My main source today was the work of Fredik Silverstolpe, who has researched swedish queer history for decades. I can give you some links if you DM me, but they are all in Swedish.

#queer history #swedish #sweden #etymology #linguistics #thieves cant #secret languages #svenska #social history #history #language #mini essay #essay

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flightyquinn · 3 months

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Druids having a special language that only they speak is a neat idea, but I feel like it's underused. It's basically just Druids, and in some systems Rogues (if it's not a bluff check for them) that get it. Why not give it to more classes? Why not give it to every class?

Barbarians have a tribal dialect unique to their clan.

Bards, Wizards, and Fighters each use a system of shorthand and dense jargon that makes sense to others in the same profession, but is nigh impenetrable to outsiders.

Clerics have an equivalent to "Church Latin" that is used among the initiated of their faith.

Rangers use signs, signals, and a simple code to convey information quickly and with as little writing to disturb the environment as possible.

Sorcerers impart a touch of the innate magic within them into their words, conveying added meaning to those with the Gift, and obfuscating it for all others.

Monks speak in koans.

#tabletop roleplaying #ttrpg #worldbuilding #my ideas #secret languages #d&d #pathfinder

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cleosven · 1 year

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In early high school I had a typer writer, like Wednesday. I thought it was cool, and it kinda was because I loved getting printed pages of my work immediately. But it also sucked because my spelling was atrocious.

However, my friends would request fics anyway and I would type them up and bring them to school as if they were notes for some fictitious class project. We even made up a secret code I’d write in, so if a teacher found it, it would look like complete gibberish.

I loved those days.

#writing #type writers #fanfiction #secret languages

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superbat-love · 1 year

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Clark understands Bruce’s language

#they’re married your honor #secret language #superbat #superman x batman #batman x superman #superman/batman #batman/superman #dc #dc comics #official #superman #batman #clark kent #bruce wayne

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alienssstufff · 5 months

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BLOODHOUNDS

ft Y.T and Tripwire

[their ‘duo name’ is Bloodhounds from now on btw… if you even care..]

alternative title ver- it would’ve taken away the effect of the *COUGH* easter egg

notes n what not coming soon

The sketch and the flowers used :3

The composition originally was going to be a lot different (had two in mind) where the Red King’s involvement would’ve been more prominent. Went with this one simply cuz it was just more fun to experiment, where the negative space is made front and centre focus :]

Whennnn picking out the plants ddint think for a second about symbolism- and going off of just ANY flower for flower language would have been too big of a selection pool… So in respects to SL environmental setting - native Australian plants it was.

-The golden wattle trees by its abundance and have benefited Aboriginal and Torres Straight Islanders for thousands of years to create various markers and tools. The plant survives harsh droughts, and its seeds have a coating strong enough that can be salvageable beyond bushfires.

-as a signifier of Spring and new beginnings hence rebirth, the golden wattle to me was also very thematically fitting for a season like Secret Life :]

-I never looked into what Illawarra flame trees (the flowers of the coat my SL!Bdubs design is wearing) before until today.. and I quote “Regains confidence and self-approval, able to make commitments with the strength of self-reliance. Clarity in life and ability to adapt to all situations. Secure enough to express and communicate true feelings. To be beautiful and strong ” [SOURCE: Australian Bushflowers] which…. Ok damn. There’s also alcohol in it.

-Eucalyptus trees in Indigenous Australian culture represent the division between the underworld, the Earth and heaven.

The selection of plants while don’t represent Bloodhounds together - but more of what Martyn and Bdubs are individually, they’re interesting in the things they have in common what they represent. And the differences they go about this loyalty throughout the seasons and why they devote - especially in LimL and SL.. Fascinating stuff.

#stufffsart #secret life spoilers #inthelittlewood #itlw #itlwart #bdoubleo100 #bdoubleo #Bdubs #secret life #secret life smp #life series smp #trafficblr #mcytblr #i forgot… martyn doesn’t wear glasses.. I’m dorry #stufff rambles #(for the word dump below)#apologies if I get certain things wrong >< flower language isn’t my expertise

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contact-guy · 3 months

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Dancing men cipher saying “Sherlock Holmes is gay”. If you care

#so nice of ACD to give us a secret code language #sherlock holmes #the dancing men

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hairmetal666 · 11 months

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Never in a million years did Steve Harrington think he'd be standing in the drama club room in front of Eddie the Freak--who's sitting on a goddamn throne with his full lips pulled into a smug grin--asking to be taught how to play Dorks and Goblins. Yet, here he is, face a burning shade of crimson, as he explains for the sixth time what, exactly, he needs.

"Munson, it's not that hard. Henderson wants me to play in the--the game thingy they're doing when Will is home for a visit."

"Yeah, Harrington, and I stop listening every time you call it a game thingy. You obviously don't care about this at all, so why should I waste my time helping you?"

Steve rolls his eyes. "What if I pay you?"

Munson's face goes through a complicated series of changes before falling into a neutral mask, no smirk or teasing smile to be found. "You'll pay me to teach you dnd? Are you fucking kidding?"

"No?' Steve draws a hand through his hair, watches as Munson's dark eyes track the movement. "I thought you might help me out cause those kids never shut-up about you, but I'm willing to put money on it."

"Huh," Eddie says. He steeples his fingers under his chin. "Maybe I misjudged you, Harrington."

Steve lets himself smile at this. "I don't think you did. I don't give a shit about this game."

"Didn't take you for one to have a bunch of nerdy child friends."

"I'm their babysitter," he says, realizes immediately it was a mistake.

Eddie cackles until it turns into a full-bodied laugh, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. "You are something else, Harrington," he manages.

For his part, Steve hopes Munson hasn't noticed how bright red his face is. "Does that mean you'll help me?"

"I guess," he rolls his eyes. "But if you're just screwing around, I'm out."

"No, yeah, totally," Steve nods too hard, sends his hair cascading into his face. "Sounds good. How much?"

"Huh?" Eddie tilts his face up, giving Steve a perfect view of the smattering of faint freckles across the bridge of his nose.

"I said I'd pay you. What's the going rate for dnd lessons?"

"Oh, nah, free of charge, Harrington. Henderson would eat me alive if he knew I made you pay."

The smile they share is soft, tentative, and Steve doesn't notice the swathes of pink decorating Eddie's pale cheekbones.

---

They meet up in the drama room after the last bell. Eddie is waiting on the throne with his feet propped on the table, sipping a Mt. Dew. His eyes widen when Steve walks into the room.

"You're on time," he says.

Steve scoffs. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Eddie shrugs, sets his feet on the floor. "Just wasn't aware that the King put a lot of stock in punctuality."

"C'mon, man, I'm trying not to be that guy, and I'm definitely not king of anything. Unless maybe it's Family Video, but even then, that's Robin."

"You're kind of weird, Harrington, you know that?" Eddie's dimples bracket his smile. The sight does weird things in Steve's chest.

"I've been told, yeah." Steve smiles back. "Where do we start?"

They start with dice, with a character sheet.

"Chaotic-good human Paladin?" Eddie asks.

He shrugs. "That's what Dustin keeps screaming at me. I got no idea what any of it means."

"That's not entirely true," Eddie says. "You've kept up with me so far."

"Yeah, that's you. Dustin rambles and then accuses me of not listening when it's over my head. When he goes on long enough, I start to get a headache right here," Steve rubs the spot between his eyes.

"That kid," Eddie says with the right combination of affection and frustration. "I don't know, you seem to have picked up on some of the stuff he said. You have a solid idea on gameplay, at least. I'd say you're doing pretty good."

"Thanks," Steve laughs. "No migraine yet, so that's a point in your favor."

"Migraines?"

"Head trauma."

"Byers?"

"And Hargrove."

"That was Hargrove?" Eddie asks.

"Hit me in the head with a plate."

"What the fuck."

"He was pissed that Max was friends with Lucas. He came after them. I couldn't just let him--I think he would've killed Lucas."

Eddie nods, hands fiddling with a die. "No wonder those kids love you," he says.

"We've been through some shit together."

"Guess it makes more sense why you wanted to learn dnd."

"As much as it pains me to admit," Steve rolls his eyes. "I love to make those little shitheads happy."

"Well, based on the way they talk about you, you succeed."

"You too, you know?" Steve offers. "All I've heard about the last three months is 'Eddie's so cool,' 'Hellfire's so fun.'"

"Jealous?" Eddie laughs.

"Completely," Steve admits.

"Don't worry, Harrington, I'll make a nerd out of you yet."

---

They meetup after school every day they can over the next two weeks. At first, Steve is surprised that he doesn't really mind spending so much time with Munson, that he actually, kind of, has fun. And the more time they spend together, the more Eddie infiltrates his space. Leans into Steve's side as they sit next to each other, brushes their hands together, hovers over his shoulder, faces nearly touching, as he checks stuff on Steve's character sheet.

It makes Steve feel--well, it makes him think of what it would be like to run his fingers through the soft gloss of Eddie's curls; wonders what that plump mouth would be like pressed against his own; can't stop thinking about if Eddie is as vocal in bed as he is everywhere else. He knows he also likes guys, has for a while, but he's never in his life wanted someone this viscerally; so much he can feel the ache of it in his teeth.

It's the last day before the campaign for Will, and Steve is fucking sad. He thinks maybe Eddie is too. He's at least quieter than normal, explanations not at their usual fever pitch. An hour before they usually call it quits, he claps his hands together (too gently, too unlike himself), says, "That's it, Harrington. You're not going to be more ready than this."

"Right," Steve says. Can't help his eyes from darting over Eddie's face, aching to know what he's thinking. "You'll be there tomorrow?"

Eddie bends his head over his notebooks. "Nah, I don't need to intrude."

"But--"

"It's okay, Stevie. I get that it's family only." He looks like he really means it, but his eyes are sad, don't shine like they should.

Steve doesn't know what to say to that, just nods, and then there's nothing else. They stare at each other for a few very long, quiet seconds, before Eddie says, "I'll see you around, Harrington."

"Right, yeah. You too." And he walks out of the drama room with the heaviest heart he thinks he's ever had.

---

Steve thinks he won't miss Eddie. That if he doesn't dwell on those hours spent with Eddie, learning dnd, that the missing will go away.

It doesn't.

Which is how he finds himself back at the high school on Wednesday, standing in front of the drama room door, willing himself to go inside. Eddie's on the throne, the typical notebooks and binders and Mt. Dew cans clustered around him, but he's not engrossed in imagining up a new campaign for Hellfire. No, his head is in his hands, knees drawn up to his chest.

"Eddie?" Steve asks.

His head pops up, and even in the low light, Steve notices the silvery tracks of tears down his cheeks.

"Steve! What are you--" he hastily wipes at his face with his shirt sleeve. "What are you doing here?"

Steve's acting only on instinct, crossing the room and dropping to his knees, taking Eddie's jaw between his palms, thumbing away the wetness on his cheeks.

"Did someone hurt you?" he asks.

Eddie's laugh is wet. "Nah, Harrington. I only have myself to blame for this one."

"Can I do anything?"

"Are you trying to kill me?"

"Sorry?"

"You, Steve Harrington, kind and compassionate? Learn dnd to make your little nerd friends happy? Who are you?"

"I'm just me, man," Steve blushes. "But, uh, I came to thank you." He's still holding Eddie's face in his hands, can't help but notice the way he flushes, how his dark eyes dart away from Steve's.

"I really liked hanging out with you," Steve says. This close to Eddie, his mind doesn't quite feel like his own. All he can think of is big eyes, soft curls, full lips.

"Yo--you did?"

"So much," Steve whispers. He doesn't quite remember moving, but now their foreheads are pressed together, warm breath mingling, lips almost, almost touching.

"I liked it too," Eddie breathes. After a few seconds, he laughs. "Knew I'd make a nerd out of you, Harrington."

"Shut-up," Steve laughs.

"Make me," Eddie says, and it's just that easy. Steve crosses the space still separating them, presses his mouth against Eddie's.

The kiss is slow, exploratory, the gentle discovery of how they fit together, the promise of all the things they can do in the future, all the pleasure they can bring.

"I'm not a nerd," Steve says when they part.

"No, you're right. You're like a nerd by marriage. Nerd-in-law," Eddie giggles. His eyes are bright, face pink, the most beautiful thing Steve has ever seen.

"Shut-up," Steve giggles right back.

Eddie raises an eyebrow, the dare obvious, and Steve doesn't hesitate to kiss him again.

"You wanna get out of here?" Steve asks when they part, significantly more breathless, jeans significantly tighter, than when he arrived.

"You're gonna have to role persuasion for that, Stevie," Eddie smirks.

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #fluff #ficlet #oneshot #dnd lessons #falling in love #mutual pining #eddie's down so bad #first kiss #secret nerd steve harrington #i don't know anything about dnd actually so sorry if it's wrong #strangers to friends to lovers #alternate first meeting #big eyes soft curls full lips can't lose #“shut up” “make me” is a love language

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phoenixcatch7 · 7 months

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Lmao I'd love to see a fic where batman like. Doesn't talk at all. He just 'hn' and 'hrm's his way through the story like a Minecraft villager. All the bat kids understand him perfectly.

I actually know people irl who can do this, and I've done it myself during bad migraines, it's practically a second language, so I know it's totally possible to have full conversations between two speakers XD!

It'd be another degree of separation between Brucie Wayne, the ditzy, breathy playboy and batman, who used up all his vocal spoons for the day and now communicates solely through unintelligible grunts and sharp hand gestures when he doesn't need to talk to strangers.

Unfortunately, the best way to learn grunt speak is the same way most languages are learned, and there's no written word (outside of emoji, of course): immersion. And the justice league are no longer considered strangers.

This leads to:

Hal: which way do we go, spooky? Where's the tracker pointing?

B: *grunt*

Hal: what?

B: *insistent grunt*

Hal:..... Can we point?

B: *dour look* *slowly raises arm to point left down the street* *sharp, insistent grunt*

Hal, dryly: don't strain yourself.

Damian: greyson. I am calling because father has had an injury and is bed bound for tonight, however Alfred is downstairs and the rest are still on patrol. I am still in the early stages of learning father's intonations. Please translate.

Nightwing, eldest, regularly called for exactly this reason by just about everyone Bruce has ever spoken with since he was a kid, ranging from arkham guards to jl members: *heavy sigh* put him on.

Bruce: hrng...

Nightwing: He's telling you to close the curtains and keep the noise down, he's got a headache.

Damian, over the sound of footsteps and fabric rustling: it truly is just like another language.

N: nah, it's a lot of probability. I've known b for years, I can guess pretty well. There's a lot we can say. For example, that grunt actually carried a lot more meaning, I just trimmed it down.

Damian: truly?

N: yup! If I had to be pedantic, it actually meant 'I am in quite a lot of discomfort, the cause of which is my head, and I am struggling to manage it on my own. Please aid in my cause, my darling sons whom I love dearly -'

Damian: *muffled noise through the phone*

N: that'll be him telling us to shut up. But you can see why I asked you to close the curtains.

Damian: fascinating. I shall take this under advisement.

B, exhausted after a long day of board meetings as Brucie: *moody silence*

Gordon: Batman, how's it going?

B: *glower* *drawn out grunt*

Gordon: that bad, huh?

Supes, during a briefing: I believe it would be best if we attacked from the north, we've enough flying members to crest the mountains and ambush then that way - Batman?

B: *quiet grumble, with pointer fingers moving in semicircles*

Supes: ah, I see. You're right, we'd be too visible if the sun rose behind them*turns to see the other members standing behind him* what?

Flash, bowing at the waist, palms together over his head: teach me your ways, oh mighty bat-speaker.

#I see a lot of 'haha b grunts and rarely speaks when distracted' but I never see people actually taking it further #There's a lot of unrealistic things that happen in dc but having conversations in grunts isn't one of them!!#It's not a secret fictional human hybrid language lmao it's perfectly understandable #Once my friend told me to get an ice cream and a flask of hot water without opening their mouth once lol #Bruce can be semi verbal. As a treat.#batman #dc comics #bruce wayne #Brucie Wayne #1k #2k #?!

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