I think the biggest german discussion is when you meet someone from a different area in Germany and they call things differently and you are just like “nooooo that is not what it’s name is!!!”
But the other person just won’t see your point because they think the same you think.
Friendship can break over this folks.
Story time: The other day my friend and I got into a discussion about gender pronouns for various german words, such as butter, nutella or schorle (a schorle is usually drink made of water mixed with juice or something). Anyhow, she is from NRW, I am from Ba-Wü. She wanted to convince me it’s die butter, die nutella und die schorle (all female). Where I come from, it’s der butter (male), das nutella (neutral) und das schorle (also neutral) however. It turned into a somewhat heated discussion in public, so much so that even strangers that were walking past us had to chime in and put in their two cents. It turned into a huge ass discussion with like 3 strangers, so lemme tell ya, Germans are very passionate about dialects.
the worst one is definitely people from NRW saying “Sose” instead of “Soße”. i’m literally ready to kill whenever i hear Sose.
Why you’re all coming for us in NRW like that especially when you say fucked up shit like der Butter and das Schorle?! That’s just so wrong! I never ever heard that in my life? Is it really what you say down there? Lmao 😂😂 That reminds me of the time I found out all of Germany calls Berliner Berliner except Berlins population. They’re called Pfannkuchen there! Why??
“Der Butter” broke my heart and made me cry tbh. Please don’t do this!
Als ob Leute “das Schorle” sagen, wie kann man der Schorle das nur an tun.
It is obviously die Butter (feminine), das Nutella (neuter), und die Schorle (feminine).
Everyone else can go home and think about about they did wrong in life that led them to such great lapses in judgement.
okay FIRST of all, it’s not Berliner everywhere in Germany, because Bavarians are actually civilised and call them Krapfen so kindly fuck off. (and NO those tiny little fried dough thingies are NOT Krapfen, those are Schmalzkuchen, so jot that down. And also, really Berlin? we ALL know Pfannkuchen are pancakes, learn some manners please)
also ofc it’s das Nutella and die Schorle, you animals. I’m torn on butter because I say die, but parts of my family say der, so I’m okay with that as long as you don’t say das
and if we’re on the topic already, will the rest of Germany PLEASE finally accept that it’s die Breze (or Brez’n if you’re feeling fancy) and NOT BrezeL. We invented the damn things so we get to PICK THE FUCKING NAME jfc
also anyone who calls rolls anything but Semmel is a dumbass.
Why would you say “der Butter”, stop abusing our poor language like that, you heathen. It’s die Butter, die Schorle and DIE(!!!) Nutella. Also, Krapfen are little fried dough balls with powdered sugar, Pfannkuchen are bigger and filled with jam, and Eierkuchen are what you bake in a pan at home. And 11:45 is dreiviertel Zwölf.
I’ve never seen/heard Austrians arguing like that among ourselves - I think we, with all our dialects, are all united in the knowledge that The Germans Are Wrong.
Like … what are you even talking about here with your Berliner and Pfannkuchen and Schmalzkuchen and Krapfen and Eierkuchen and… what? There are Krapfen and there are Palatschinken, and those two things are nothing like each other, what is even going on in Germany?
And Schorle is a weird word, it’s a gspritzter [fruit of your choice]saft. (Not just a Gspritzter, that would be wine, not juice).
I’m extremely amused that this entire conversation is happening in English.
It has to happen in English - they can’t agree on the German
I mean, you have a point. I think English has probably agreed to disagree about itself on a pretty perpetual basis.
I couldn’t decide how I wanted to comment on this post but I narrowed it down to two options.
1) Butter, schorle and Nutella – the three genders.
let autistic people infodump about their special interests without laughing at them or telling them they’re annoying. that kinda shit is what wrecks someone’s self-esteem and makes it even harder for them to form relationships bc everyone has told them they’re annoying and that their interests are stupid. don’t do it
forgot to add: this goes for ppl w adhd / add that have hyperfixations as well
The brew pub’s microcosm, at this point, is bolstered by layers upon layers of gambling. The old staff bets on how long new kitchen hires will last, and if you last out the first three months without quitting in a mild panic about what the fuck is happening here, you get formally inducted into the wider pool of bets. The three top questions are:
The date of Nate and Sophie’s wedding: the pot is a handsome $700 despite the relatively small bets placed and regularly reupped (it took them two years to properly exchange names and thirteen years to sleep together, don’t tell me it wouldn’t be an ongoing question)
Who exactly is dating whom, among their three bosses: there are a scant three people who put their money on a poly triad, and they’ll be splitting the $1100 between them when someone figures Eliot and Parker and Hardison out
No, Really, What The Fuck Is Happening Here: There is one person who put their whole paycheck on “fuck it, they’re fucking criminal masterminds, they probably take down governments in their fucking free time” after seven pints of Thief Juice, and they are walking away with a cool two grand if they can ever actually prove it
B: what I think is fucking
hilarious
So, the FBI thinks that Hardison and Parker are official agents. Like, the FBI is so convinced of this, so convinced of this, that Hardison actually discovers they have valid badge numbers–they are all but being paid by the federal government as part of their Portland white collar crimes office. Agent McSweeten and his partner have benefited handsomely from Hardison and Parker’s involvement, and they vouch for their ‘old buddies’ at every turn, to the extent that most of the feds they could run into in a number of cities (Boston, Portland, probably NYC) are like ‘yes, they’re undercover again, c’est la vie.’
Which is all well and good until Interpol shows up and has to work with the FBI on something quite unrelated, which results in Sterling tearing his hair out because “WHAT DO YOU MEAN, THEY’RE NOT FEDERAL AGENTS THEY’RE CRIMINALS, OF COURSE THEY’RE CRIMINALS.”
The Feds honestly pity the poor guy. Damn, their people are good, their undercover personalities even managed to convince Interpol, damn fine. McSweeten tells Parker the story next time he sees her and she laughs for literally days.
C: what is heart-crushing and
awful but fun to inflict on friends
Eliot believes–no, he knows–that he’s going to die for Parker and Hardison. He’s actually pretty comfortable with this, but he knows that if he ever brings it up out loud, the pair of them are going to mutually implode. I wrote that into a fic, actually. Also, listen, we all know this is canon. “Until my dying day.” Eliot, please be a little less obviously worshipful of these people. Some of my Eliot Spencer feelings can also be found here.
D: what would never
work with canon but the canon is shit so I believe it anyway
I like to think that there’s a Leverage Mark II comprised of some of the kids they run into over the course of their jobs, I even wrote out like 2K words in headcanons for it. Members include:
Mastermind: Olivia Sterling,
from The Queen’s Gambit Job
Hitter: Molly (who now identifies as Matthew), from The Carnival Job
Hacker: Trevor, from The Hot Potato Job
Grifter: Widmark (Mark), from The Fairy Godparents Job
Thief: Josie, from The Boost Job
Client: Luka, from The Stork Job, whose little sister has been kidnapped
I just really want this, okay? I want to see them become the greatest criminals around under the tutelage of the Leverage squad and take up the torch when Eliot and Hardison and Parker decide to dial it back a bit and buy a restaurant somewhere.
(Related headcanon that Leverage habitually starts training up new generations and like in five hundred years humanity’s in space and the Leverage has an ancient oil painting hanging in their mess hall and whenever someone asks why they don’t transfer it to a hologram, the crew of the ship puffs up and declaims at length about their honored founder Harlan Leverage III and how they would never insult his memory like that! In the afterlife, Nate S C R E A M S.)
charmingcatastrophe asked: Just sayin, I would be SO interested in your time travel story.
All I’m saying is that, FIRST OF ALL, I feel that ‘help I am uncontrollably time traveling’ is a radically underused narrative trope, and, SECOND OF ALL, there is nothing I want more than an excuse to write a story about a modern gay dude who learned all his life skills in the 1760′s and is therefore a very weird combination of modern ideals of Equality Et Al, incredibly archaic life skills, and a total inability to drive a car.
royalslayer asked: i remember i started following you after a reply you made on some medical issue about the male and female bodies being different and needing different first aid and it was informative that was like what 2 years ago holy shit
That was apparently a popular reason to join the party. …parade? …conga line? Well, whatever. Glad you have you, my dude!
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Y’ALL I AM ON ISSUE 9 OF THE DREAMER AND KIP’S BAY IS BEING BLOWN TO HELL AND ALEXANDER HAMILTON WAS JUST INTRODUCED AND I AM YELLING I LOVE THIS SO MUCH
I AM GOING TO BUY IT HARDCOPY AND ALSO THE SHORT STORIES AND IF ANY OF YOU HAVE READ THE DREAMER COME TALK TO ME ABOUT IT IMMEDIATELY
While I absolutely agree that Lily Potter beat the shit out of snape when he joined the afterlife don’t forget Petunia Dursley.
Lily was estranged from her sister but still trusted her to take care of her son, who was found bleeding and crying on her doorstep after his parents were murdered. Only to find out that they hurt, starved, isolated, lied to, and locked in both a cupboard and then a room with bars on the window the son she died to protect so he could have a better life? I don’t care what the deleted scene said about petunia being sad lily died when she gets to the afterlife it is round two of lily potter MMA smackdown
“Why did she end up here?”
“James–”
“No, that woman destroyed–”
“Hold on–”
“Stop.” A cool, familiar voice, but there’s something warm lacking in it. “Go. I need to talk to her.” A pause. “Alone.”
“…Call me if you need me, Lily,” the man says. There’s the sound of footsteps on grass.
Petunia wrinkles her nose and opens her eyes to blue, blue skies. I died, she thinks. I’m dead.
It’s not such a surprise. She was nearly eighty years old, after all, and it had been many years since Vernon died. What is a surprise is the body she finds when she sits up. She can’t be physically older than 20, the year she had Dudley and moved in with Vernon. The year that Lily–
“Hello, Petunia.”
Petunia scrambles up, heart thundering in her chest, and whirls around. There, right in front of her, for the first time in over sixty years, is Lily.
She’s just as beautiful as she remembered, long red hair framing a clear face. There’s that familiar curl of envy, but it’s duller now, after all these years, and Petunia drinks in the sight of her sister hungrily. She’s standing in a field, white robes falling from her shoulders, and her green eyes are almost the exact same color as the greenery beneath their feet.
Lily’s green eyes are suddenly a lot closer and, oh wow, Petunia is looking at the sky again. She frowns and tentatively reaches up to touch her jaw. It hurts.
But I’m dead, Petunia thinks first. And then, Lily punched me. She lifts her head up as much as she can.
“What,” Lily hisses, fists vibrating at her sides, “the fuck, Petunia?”
