a lament, on the universe, and forsooth (forsooth! wtf?)

Trufax. I am losing my contractions again.

Many moons ago, due to years of essay writing (which discouraged contraction use), everything I wrote was almost disturbingly formal, but in a very awkward way. I'd broken the worst of the habit by my fourth month in fandom because nothing beats reading your own porn dialogue coming out as a cross between Beowulf Does Dallas and Travails of a Misunderstood Penis on Crusade (Abridged) to really bring home no one should sound like that during sex. But let me tell you, dragging out your Mallory and your Canterbury for, of all Godforsaken things, research just totally brings it all back and I spent a lot of time find/replacing last night when all my dialogue was uncontracted and then going back to twitch myself into some kind of fit when I unironically had some kind of thing going on that sounded like I was trying to channel Cicero by way of Hustler. And I hated Cicero the first and only time I read him. I also don't remember any of it (I do not pretend I can read Latin. Maybe he's more interesting in his native tongue? Could happen), but I'm suspicious when "and showeth to me your manhood" starts creeping into my brain as a reasonable thing and making me want bleach like whoa. Also, showeth is not a word. I have no fucking clue where that's coming from. Maybe the land of badfic.

Also fighting off the urge to use "verily", "yea", and "forsooth". Forsooth, for the love of God. Forsooth.*

This just cannot end well, can it? It's not even pretentious. It's sad. It's really, really sad.

Seriously, if I pull that in a fic, mock my ass. God knows I'm getting worried now what I'm actually not noticing that should die in a fire.

*page ten. Totally unironic. Someone take away my Book of the Courier or this is going to just get worse.

Comments

[shinetheway.livejournal.com]

I sympathize, I do--except I started laughing so hard I snorted diet coke when I got to "Beowulf Does Dallas" and so the rest of your lament was somewhat wasted on me. Anyone who can write this entry should have no problems writing anything else in the world. (Also, forsooth, I think it would be cool as hell to read a slash story written like that. Yea verily.)

I have a tendency to get lost emotionally when I'm writing, and get increasingly florid and overdone--to the point recently where my beta had to gently remind me that no, it's actually NOT in character for Arthur to weep like a ten-year-old girl, even if he's a tormented soul etc.

[seperis.livejournal.com]

I have a tendency to get lost emotionally when I'm writing, and get increasingly florid and overdone--to the point recently where my beta had to gently remind me that no, it's actually NOT in character for Arthur to weep like a ten-year-old girl, even if he's a tormented soul etc.

God, this. I get lost in atmosphere, to the point where betas have asked "is there a story here anywhere? Very pretty though!" It is--something.

Yea, verily, seek the hidden burrows of his delight, forsooth. For thou art fair and thy arse be comely. Shoot. Me. Now.

[shinetheway.livejournal.com]

seek the hidden burrows of his delight, forsooth

AHAHAHAHAHA!!!! I will pay you a million gazillion dollars to write that story. Well, if I had a million gazillion dollars. Perhaps a well-placed wheedle? Or some groveling? For thou art strange and fantastical, fair maiden, to sing of such tales.

[shinetheway.livejournal.com]

Okay, so I knew I had a romance that had some dialogue written in Middle English, so here's an exerpt from that (warning: het)

"They ask, haf I nought engaged in lecherous touches and embraces--and when I say I haf nought, asks the confessor in another way, haf I nought touched a woman on her breasts, or her body. And neither does he trust me no more than you, my lady, when I say him nay, and asks again, as if I had said yea, then did I nought touch her womb-gate and her merkin? And did I nought kiss here there and on her teats, for to make her lewd? And did I mount her unaturally, as the beasts couple, or let her mount me? "

I think as long as Arthur isn't touching Merlin's womb-gate [dies a little] then you're okay.

[seperis.livejournal.com]

OH MY GOD I LOVE IT. AND WANT TO DIE.

MERLIN TOTALLY HAS A WOMB-GATE (I had to stop there and laugh so hard I started coughing, kthx).

I do not know what to do here. Cry or google for more.

[shinetheway.livejournal.com]

I KNOW!

This particular cracktastic romance is called For My Lady's Heart, by Laura Kinsdale. I'll spare you the rest of the sex scene, but it's actually a decent book to pick up for research [cough] purposes. There's even a Middle English glossary at the back.

I will say, however, that you totally beat her with "burrows of desire", which is made of awesome.

[shinetheway.livejournal.com]

Sorry, Kinsale, no d. I always get that wrong.

[seperis.livejournal.com]

I want to use that so much it's hurting me inside.

[shinetheway.livejournal.com]

Oh god, if you don't start, I will.

Arthur lowered himself to lay between Merlin's pale thighs, and mounted him. His throbbing tarse pushed into Merlin's burrows of desire, and he groaned full strong as his desire rose. Merlin gasped in frenzy beneath him, for never had he knowen a feeling so sweet as this.

Oh dear sweet lord, I am breaking my brain even as I write. [claws out her eyes] This is SO WRONG. This is all the wrong in the world. This is MADE of wrongness. (And it's your turn!)

[seperis.livejournal.com]

I AM FIGHTING THE URGE TO DROWN MYSELF, FORSOOTH.

[shinetheway.livejournal.com]

But verily, it is surely the most noble of pursuits, to sucketh the teat of Merlin for to make him lewd.

Just give in and life will so much easier, I promise! Merlin's womb-gate is made of WIN!