Up Orkney

Writer, Christ-follower, word nerd. Love them period murder mysteries, sci fi podcasts, and the Queen's Thief series.

[kylorens]

I stumbled upon this cartoon of Hamlet made for kids and THIS SCENE MADE ME SCREAMMM

[fizzy-tizzy]

Everyone knows the first day of Friend Grace’s class is nickname day. It’s the day when every pebble is on their best behavior to try and make sure they get a cool nickname, something unique that they can brag to their friends and classmates about.

Sometimes, Grace will do it without thinking. That’s how Kiddo and Buddy got their nicknames. Often, Grace will nickname students after their coloration. Gaia got his nickname because he’s blue and green, and apparently looks a lot like Earth. Violet got hers because she’s purple. (She was initially disappointed since color means nothing to Eridians, but then Friend Grace showed them violet flowers and said that humans often associated purple with wealth and royalty, and she changed her tune.) Most of the time, Grace will give his students what he calls “regular human names” like Abby, Carl, or Martin.

But the most coveted nicknames are ones named after Earthen creatures. When ♩♪♬ 🎵 ♩♪♬ 🎵 first introduced themselves, Friend Grace immediately perked up and shouted “Robin!” After a bit of explaining himself and a few videos of bird calls, Robin was trilling and chirping happily, excited at having a nickname that felt like a 1-to-1 translation of their own.

Even well after Friend Grace is gone, his legacy remains. A hundred years into the future, when humankind finally launches a new ship with the express purpose of properly meeting their Eridian neighbors, one of the first messages exchanged is “Hello! My name Robin.”

[krakenteacups]

[wifegideonnav]

“bits to use in everyday conversations”

[phantomrose96]

I like when fic length/book length/movie length is its own punchline

[phantomrose96]

characters: Ah, I'm so glad that's all over now :). But luckily that's done and dealt with and we can all resume our normal lives now :)

fic length: Chapter 9 out of 48

[phantomrose96]

[medievalspecs]

[meganwhalenturner]

There Will Come Soft Rains

There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,

And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;

And frogs in the pools singing at night,

And wild plum trees in tremulous white,

Robins will wear their feathery fire

Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;

And not one will know of the war, not one

Will care at last when it is done.

Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree

If mankind perished utterly;

And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn,

Would scarcely know that we were gone.

—Sara Teasdale

From The Language of Spring, edited by Robert Atwan, published by Beacon Press, 2003.

[salmonella-destroyer-of-worlds]

Actual roman epitaph for a dog

[disgruntled-foreign-patriarch]

humans are the same

[mornington-the-crescent]

[bedlamsbard]

I’ve seen this one doing the rounds a few times (and it makes me cry every time I see it), but was curious about the original Latin text, so I did some digging: it’s a shortened version of CIL 10, 00659, a tombstone from Salernum (modern Salerno, Italy). (source; CIL is the Corpus Inscriptionum Latinarum).

Portaui lacrimis madidus te, nostra catella,

     Quod feci lustris laetior ante tribus.

Ergo mihi, Patrice, iam non dabis oscula mille

     Nec poteris collo grata cubare meo.

Tristis marmorea posui te sede merentem

     Et iunxi semper manib(us) ipse meis

Morib(us) argutis hominem simulare paratam,

     Perdidimus quales hei mihi delicias.

Tu, dulcis Patrice, nostras attingere mensas

    Consueras, gremio poscere blanda cibos,

Lambere tu calicem lingua rapiente solebas,

     Quem tibi saepe meae sustinuere manus,

Accipere et lassum cauda gaudente frequenter

And here’s my translation:

Wet with tears I have carried you, our little (female) dog, just as I did in happier times fifteen years earlier (lit. “three periods of five years).  For myself, Patrice, now you will not give me a thousand kisses nor will you be able to lie lovingly around/against my neck.  I have sorrowfully placed you, merit-worthy, in a marble tomb and I have joined you always to myself in death, as by your cleverness you matched a human.  Alas, we lost such pleasures for myself!  You, sweet Patrice, were accustomed to join us at our table, to beg charmingly for food (while sitting in our) laps.  You were in the habit of greedily licking our cups with your tongue, which my hands often held for you.  Frequently and joyfully (you) receive a weary one with your (wagging) tail...

tl;dr: this dog was named Patrice and was very, very loved.  (another translation with some glossing of the text.)

[red-faced-wolf-deactivated20251]

[ospreyonthemoon]

It's the fact she's joined to them in death, it's the fact that she sat in her owner's arms and ate their food. That he held the cups down for her to drink from....

Hundreds of years and we still know she was loved. We still know how she liked to sleep. All these years!! Loving dogs is the same!!!!

[thaylepo]

gonna point out too that 15 years is an INSANELY long lifespan for a dog in ancient Rome. This dog was both well loved and well cared for to have lived so long. Obvs there's going to be some statistical overlap with ancient dogs with loving epitaphs having longer lifespans, but in a world without modern vetrinary science or medicine, no canine vaccines, and no nutritionally formulated dog food, this Roman's beloved pooch exceeded even the average pet dog lifespan today.

[escuerzoresucitado]

[starful02]

@ariaste

[thisauthorisscreaming]

Does it count as 'sword in the stone' if it looks more like 'sword in the cairn'...?

[lipstickhamlet]

something about the way shakespeare's plays are positioned to just barely cover the untold tragedies lurking underneath. lady macbeth knows how tender the babe is that milks her yet the macbeths have no child to pass the crown to. iago mentions that othello saw his own brother shot to pieces by cannons. olivia was planning to grieve her brother for 7 years until she met viola. beatrice knew benedick of old. lady capulet was only fourteen when she gave birth to juliet. it drives me crazy to see all the untold stories peeking out between the lines of the main plot.

[isuggestkillingyourself]

[tactfulsaboteur]

[nixscriptum]

On Sundays.

[adastra-sf]

Regular days can produce great art

- Humphrey Carpenter's J.R.R. Tolkien: A Biography

During a couple hours on this particular day, Tolkien took Frodo across the Dead Marshes to the gates of Mordor, then mowed the lawn.

You don't need special conditions to create your best work.

[sighinastorm]

"have brought Frodo nearly to the gates of Mordor. Afternoon lawn-mowing" —from the diary of Samwise.

[podcastwizard]

sorry boss can't come in today i was on my way to work and then a gentle spring breeze kissed my cheek and reminded me it is a serious thing just to be alive on this fresh morning in this broken world

[plasmapop]

09/04/2026 • every time @softinvasions writes a villanelle about how sonnets suck i write another suckful sonnet*. metrical malpractice!

*sonnets do not even have to have 14 lines if you are pure of heart and sonnetpilled enough

[lornaka]

I like how this wip looks at this stage, so I thought I'd just post it

[redjennies]

okay you know those posts that are like "this male character archetype would be better as a woman"? you know what we need more of? female loudmouth braggart hero antagonists. women who are cocky and comedically vainglorious and beloved by the public and also objectively suck so fucking bad. I'm not kidding. I don't care how sexist the audience would be about that. I want to see a woman who should be played by whoever the female equivalent of Nathan Fillion is.