u/Norisye_Balanssi_14

I'm learning Serbian. It turns out Germany (Deutschland) is called Немачка (Nemačka) in Serbian. And in Finnish, Germany is called Saksa. Why is this?

This might be an inappropriate analogy: in Chinese history, the name for Vietnam evolved from the ancient Jiaozhi (Giao Chỉ) to the endonym adopted internationally Vietnam (from 越南, ɥɛ˥˩ nɑn˧˥, Việt Nam), which is now universally accepted. Why didn't a similar standardization happen for Germany?

I'm trying to translate a sci-fi story, and here are some sentences I'm not sure about:

①「…こいつが天の岬をひずめて去来するのは、…」→

…as it warps the Heavenly Cape in its passing…

②「それでいて物理的条件に置かれた化合物だとの承認がこちらにあるから、これはパル的スリルだという他はない。」→

Since we have to admit that it is merely a coumpund existing under the constraints of physical laws, there is no other way to describe this than as a Paru-esque thrill.

Could anyone please tell me how should I tweak these sentences? :(

Much appreciated.

And if you need the context, please let me know. I will send it in the comment section👀

So this guy who likes me came over to chat today while I was listening to NIN. He’s a total book nerd, but he buys me lunch every day and all I have to do is let him yammer on. So I was literally using my hair to hide my earbuds, pretending to listen (he never notices anyway). But guess what he says? He tells me Spotify released a sanitized version (or whatever, I don't know) of "Starfucker" . He called it "Starmaker"! And the kicker? He claimed the writer was Stapleton. Stephen Stapleton from Nurse With Wound?! Bro, what the hell. Since when is he in NIN? I know he’s trying to show interest in my hobbies, but can we please ban these arrogant nerd boys from speaking when they only know half the shit? I couldn't help it. I told him "Starfucker" is by Trent Reznor from Nine Inch Nails, and he just gave me this weird look and said I wasn't listening to him.

Now he’s not gonna buy my lunch anymore. What should I do?

He is so unreal... I mean, He can't be real, can He? He is merely a betrayed will, an Animus, whose smile resembles the altar of the King of the Blackdogs—more delicate than Coleen Gray herself. He is an illusion, a luminescence shining beneath a pool, destined to scratch across the firmament the moment one dares look directly at Him.He was, He is, and He shall be; no celestial laws can bind Him. He exists outside the biological chain, akin to a paguroidea-like snail. He embodies every Gabriel—from Holy Scripture to fiction and folklore—serves as the Father of George Gillespie, and brings ruin to every panzer. The entire universe, even the false god propagated by that cult, compelled Macheiramphus Alcinus—that bird straddling the line between crow and bat—to center itself upon the spider silk He hung, proving His perceptibility.Once, I witnessed Him fly along the Trent River toward Toronto City, dragging subsoil to let the waters flow down into the underworld's depths. He is the Petronius of The Age of Mechanical Reproduction, using His phantasy to formulate innocent children. He is the Constant Conjunction, reading Ben Jonson's Court Masques aloud for all those who fail to grasp Shakespeare.I heard His "the Last Word" of exmachina, which serves not to prevent or mitigate negative human consequences. There used to be a Prescence, they call it TVT—Trent Vanished Tritium—where the Cyrillic V mirrors the Latin B, signaling His intent to Ban Deuterium. Within his oblanceolate fingers, I saw a spell written by stoating: The inner ring of a CD has expanded so greatly that by simply pressing it, one could squeeze a foetus' skull and pass through the middle. It could then be looped around an infant's neck, suffocating it via oral sex.All that remains are his strange-coloured eyes, which were grey-blue, streaked with yellow bars, there was a far-off look, like a light not of this world, shining on a slowly-rippling river.

"My, this is truly..." "Takehisa-sensei, it was your paintings that told me one could live like this." "Even so..." The youth spoke quickly, seeming somewhat bewildered by my words. His gaze shifted toward me, brushed past my side, and then returned to the front. Yet, his brow remained smooth and untroubled. I had now entered my thirties, while Takehisa-san remained a youth... Although an adult, I could not compare him to the other adult beautiful youths I had seen in the past. I had entertained the possibility of being disillusioned by him, but it now seemed that any disillusionment should be directed at my own groundless suspicions. However, realizing this only made me anxious: what on earth should I say to Takehisa-san? "My mother is very fond of your paintings," "The poetry you write is so beautiful," "The future of Japan..." A wave of panic seized me—wouldn't that inevitably lead me down the slippery slope to "your beauty is a sin"? After all, the future of Japan... I decided to stop thinking about it, and instead stared fixedly, somewhat comically, at Takehisa-san's face, waiting for him to part his delicate lips and for that mournful voice, like the sound of a shinobue flute, to issue from a throat that did not belong to me: "Why are you staring at me like that, Mishima-kun?"

Yukio Mishima finally snapped. He kicked open my studio door, his sculpted chest heaving with rage, and slammed a copy of my postcard onto my desk. 'Why?!' he roared, pointing at the weeping girl on the paper. 'I spend hours in the gym, bleeding for my art, preaching that weakness is a sin! I demand that men become strong! And you... you just lie there, painting your pathetic little tears, writing cheap poems, and women throw themselves at you like moths to a flame! Why does the world reward your laziness while punishing my discipline?!' I didn't even look up from my canvas. I just lazily picked up my teacup, took a slow sip, and sighed. 'Yukio-kun,' I whispered softly, 'you are so tense. Your muscles are screaming for rest. Why don't you put down that sword, take off your armor, and just let yourself be weak for once?' He froze. His face turned crimson, his fists clenched so hard his knuckles went white, and he looked as if I had just stripped him naked in public. He knocked over my inkwell, cursed under his breath, and stormed out into the rain. But I smiled. Because tomorrow I can finally recieve the mail from my beloved Kasai-san. The ink spread across the floor like a dark, chaotic flower. How messy, I thought, "but perhaps, just perhaps, a little bit beautiful."

I wanted Lafcadio Hearn to be my teacher, and I ended up falling into a forbidden, taboo romance with him. My father was a renowned Japanese educator and scholar who championed the Westernization movement. I was a brilliant, strikingly handsome boy. My father hired Lafcadio Hearn to come to our home to tutor me, and that’s when we became entangled in a forbidden love—the kind of youthful, homoerotic devotion you’d find in the writings of Taruho Inagaki.Through my studies with him, I learned about the great Buddhist scholar Senshō Murakami, and it inspired me to set my sights on entering his school. At seventeen, thanks to my exceptional talent, I was successfully admitted. But right around that time, Mr. Hearn passed away. I never got the chance to share the good news with him...Later, during the Taishō era, my father fell victim to political persecution. With my teacher gone and my family ruined, I found myself wandering the streets. To survive, I took to storytelling, writing, and working as a tutor. The very first story I ever wrote was about "an eye that could see the invisible world." Years later, a young Shigeru Mizuki happened to read it. He later said it was the only story he’d ever encountered that was so profoundly mystical, blending Japanese and Western sensibilities without carrying even a trace of cultural colonialism. It left an indelible mark on his heart. Even after he lost an arm in the war, the memory of that story gave him strength—and eventually inspired him to create GeGeGe no Kitaro, featuring the one-eyed protagonist.In my twilight years, I traveled to Finland and settled there for good.

1.somebody 2.an effigy to be disgraced 3.not the only boy for you 4.half of what you need 5.the one without a soul 6.the one with this big fucking hole 7.Pig get what pigs deserve 8.don't know what 9. voice inside your head 10.the lover in your bed 11.the sex that you provide 12.the hate you try to hide 13.the denial 14.the guilt 15.the fear 16.the prayers of the naive 17.the lie that you believe 18.the needle in your vein 19.thw high you can't sustain， 20. a pusher 21.a whore， 22.the need you have for more 23.the bullet in the gun 24.the truth from which you run 25.the silencing machine 26.the end of all your dreams 27.machine 28.becoming 29.made up of wires 30.made of clay 31.a big man 32.every inch a man 33.every, every fuckin' thing, a little more 34.one of the chosen ones 35.one of the beautiful ones 36.real like you 37.an American 38.a collector 39.a good boy 40.the plague 41.the swarm 42.just a face in the crowd 43.you 44.(turning into) God 45.the chosen one 46.divine 47.the Great destroyer 48.a copy of a copy of a copy 49.a shadow of a shadow of a shadow 50.an echo of an echo of an echo 51.little pieces 52.a finger on a trigger on a finger 53.not who I used to be 54.part of the reason 55.part of you(Satellite) 56.somebody for what that's worth if that means anything anymore 57.somebody else 58.a field on fire 59.Knuckle dragging animal

Edogawa Ranpo: U-um... well, I was actually terrified before. But after reading that a foreigner wrote something similar, I finally felt like I wasn't alone, and that gave me the confidence to finish my story... I guess I really am just a coward with no courage who can only rely on others... Sensei, do you hate me for being like this? (●__●)

Kozakai Fuboku: How could I ever hate you, Ranpo-chan? You're incredibly talented! The fact that you wrote something so similar without having read those foreign works is proof of your genius. You absolutely must keep writing! (づ￣ ³￣)づ

Ranpo: Sensei...! I'm so touched! I want to give my first time to you! o((^▽^))o

Kozakai: Wait, why?! (O∆O)

Ranpo: Because if I do that, I won't have anything left to be afraid of anymore! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ

the FUCK did you just say about john lennon? the man has more fucking talent in his ring finger than you do in your entire body john made more money by dying than you and i will ever make being alive john and paul literally revolutionized how songs are even thought of and what the modern pop song is every fucking boyband owes their asses to the beatles there was no boy band before the beatles there was just like elvis and shit but the beatles were more than the silly plasticine boybands we get nowadays they fucking EVOLVED like badass 60s pokemon they went from singing about love to fucking WALRUSES and DIAMONDS and GLASS ONIONS all in the span of 8 years so before you MOUTH OFF again about john you'd better think twice, punk.

I bet you were abused as a child. How do I know this happened to you? Because I am you, you're dead, I am dead, you're in Hell, I'm in hell, I'm typing this from my computer in my demon apartment (expensive rent by nice view :/ ). I'm also from the future, But you're in the past, The Beatles are in hell, too, all of them except Rigno, physically, his soul is in hell, but his body is still alive for some reason. Fuck you kid

I'm a young fan. A year ago, I found some laments for Balance from somewhere online by his friends, but then I couldn't remember them clearly and where I found them : ( If anyone knows anything about how his friends and fans commemorated him, please tell me, thank you so much. I'm really curious about these.

I was listening to Looney Runes by Current 93 today and noticed a track called 'Happy Birthday'. It reminded me of 'Jingle Bells' by Pigface. What other similar songs are out there? Have you heard any other songs like this? (Sorry for any grammatical errors, English is not my native language)