The Walman language of Papua New Guinea has two interesting grammatical features: a conjugated and, and an inflectional diminutive.
Walman's verbs have polypersonal agreement on transitive verbs, marking both subject and object. Conjunction is handled with two verb stems, -aro- and <-a-> (subject is a prefix, object is a suffix):
Since verb serialization is already present in Walman, it looks like a verb got grabbed to mean and and got dropped into the serialization chain. There is also a non-conjugated and, which may be used instead of the conjugated form, but seems to be preferred for inanimate constituents and clauses. Interestingly, the Lamaholot language of Indonesia also has an inflecting and, but it can be used to join clauses.
See Verbs for 'And' in Walman for all the glorious details.
Walman also has a third person singular diminutive marker which occurs on verbs and adjectives.
The authors of the paper below believe that the diminutive marker was originally a neuter gender.
See Diminutive as an Inflectional Category in Walman for details.
The English bruise is related to words for "crush, injure, cut, smash." The usage for blemished fruits is first attested in the 14th century.
In Ancient Greek, several words related to the core sense of "crush" are also given the definition "bruise:" θλάω, τρίβω. There is also the rare-appearing word μώλωψ, "mark of a stripe, weal, bruise" which generates a denominal verb.
In the Dravidian family, again, quite a few words related to "crush" or "(strike a) blow, beat," and occasionally "press," are also glossed "bruise." See for example, naci and tar̤umpu.
In the Austronesian family color terms seem to be a popular source domain, as in the color root, -*dem, which generates a term in one daughter language, and the root *alem, also related to color, does in another. Also *baŋbaŋ₈, which generated terms related to a range of skin discolorations. There are other source domains, however, such as baneR, which in addition to "bruise, weal" also generates a specific term for blemishes on fruit.
In Mbula, -berebere across dialects means "be bruised and swollen, itch and burn, have blisters."
Mandarin has a large collection of terms glossed "bruise," most of which seem to be polysemous with more generic injury terms, "wound, abscess, bump," or the aftermath, "scar." The term 烏青 wū qīng refers to the color ("dark/black" + "grue/grey"), and can be used alone as a color term.
Somba-Siawari's yöhöza covers all of "bite, sting, rub, hurt, bruise, weigh down."
In Malayalam the terms are all polysemous with other injury terms, of which ആഘാതം āghātaṁ is most flush with meaning: "stab, stroke, beat, trauma, blow, waft, bruise, bump, impact, poke, push, shock."
Other dictionaries consulted: Maori, Turkish, Angave, Swahili, Arabic, Wolof, Korean, Armenian, Malay.
Summary: the cause of bruising ("hit, crush, pound, press," occasionally "abrade" or "dent") is a common source domain. In some families, the word is polysemous with other kinds of injuries, "weal" and swelling, in particular. Color terms are an occasional source. It's hard to tell history from some dictionaries, but there may occasionally be root terms for a polysemous injury word that includes "bruise." Finally, languages that are robustly reduplicating seem happy to use it in "bruise" terms (but this might be due to the stative sense rather than specific semantics).
One of the things you might do as a non-hetero or non-gender-conforming conlanger is fiddle around with pronouns or other parts of a language to represent your own reality a bit more. Most first attempts at fiddling with the pronouns are likely to result in a giant pronoun inventory that is unwieldy while also leaving some people out. I've certainly produced a few of these in the past.
For a very slowly developing personal project (Kílta), though, I came up with an idea that might be workable: the identity center.
This is modeled on the deictic center. The deictic center of a narrative or conversation is that location in space to which words of location and motion are oriented: this/that, here/there, come/go, etc. The center can move in narrative to where the action is, but in most interactive conversation the center is where the conversation is taking place.
So, in this model personal and demonstrative pronouns are coded as being either at or away from the currently active identity center. There are neutral pronouns, and much of the time those will be the ones used, but if somehow identity becomes relevant these pronouns can be brought out to signal where things fit. Further, the identity itself can be anything salient. One might, for example, say this to conlangers:
Inna ekólot si kotiho më.
DEM.IDC work ACC understand.PFV NEG.
(They) don't understand this work.
In this, inna is the identity centered demonstrative, here indicating that the work in question (fiddling with pronouns, say) is somehow related to the conlanger identity.
I translated the Fire, walk with me poem from Twin Peaks into Kílta as a test, and the final line is:
Luëka, án tin tali.
fire.VOC 1SG.IDC with walk.IMP
Fire, walk with me!
By using the identity-centered first person pronoun, án, the reciter is placing themselves into the same identity as the mystical fire being addressed.
Kílta plays with pronouns in several ways. There is, for example, a pair of first person pronouns that code how much agency the speaker feels they had in the state of affairs being described. But by thinking about LGBTQ+ pronoun questions I have concocted a system that is more broadly usable. But I'm going to have to use the language for a good bit longer before I'll be quite ready to declare a success.
So, conlang got an entry in the OED a few days ago. The word has been in use since the early 1990s, and in the post-Avatar, post-Game-of-Thrones world, it is unlikely to fade out of existence any time soon, so this is an obvious move on the part of the OED editorial team.
Compared to some conlangers' reactions, my own personal reaction to this is fairly muted. I absolutely do not view this OED entry as any sort of vindication of the art. First, if I needed approval from others to pursue my hobbies, I wouldn't play the banjo, much less conlang. I don't usually look to others for approval of my pastimes (except my neighbors, I suppose, if I decide to do something unusually loud). Second, there are all manner of very unpleasant behaviors also defined in the OED, which no one takes as a sign of OED editorial approval. The word's in the OED because it is being used now, has been for a few decades, and is likely to continue to be used for decades to come. The OED entry is a simple recognition of that fact.
I was, however, delighted to notice that one of the four citations was a book by Suzette Haden Elgin, The Language Imperative. Few people are neutral on her major conlang, Láadan. I'm a big fan, while at the same time not believing it capable of accomplishing the goals it was designed to attain. I got a copy of the grammar for the language before I had regular internet access, and so was the first conlang I ever saw that wasn't mostly a euro-clone.1 I learned a lot from Láadan, so I have a warm place in my heart for it. It's a shame Alzheimer's has probably robbed Elgin of the opportunity to know she was cited in the OED.
1 Klingon is not nearly as strange as it looks on the surface. Láadan introduced me to a range of syntactic and semantic possibilities I had not previously encountered: evidentiality, different embedding structures, inalienable possession, simpler tone systems, the possibilities of a smaller phonology.
