I made a great crafty discovery and I want to share
Sister (and Brother) Witches!
Did you know that you can buy adhesive paper that has the qualities of a chalk blackboard?
I think it’s meant for kids - you stick it onto any flat surface like the wardrobe door or whatever, and the kid draws on it until it reaches the age where it doesn’t like messing about with chalk drawings anymore, and then you take it off.
However, this is a really great tool for anyone doing witchcraft or any kind of ceremonial magic or rituals! You can stick it onto the surface you do rituals on, and draw anything you like - your sigils, whatever-grams, symbols of your deity, your intention, anything - on it, in chalk, and afterwards you can wipe it clean off. Better yet, don’t even stick it, just unroll when you want to and roll up again when you don’t!
And for closeted witches, you can put it on a table that normally has a tablecloth on, or - like I did - stick it onto the back of a cutting board that normally stays mundane side up. Then just flip it for rituals and bam, instant altar. Just add chalk.
The one I found comes in black and green, too, so basically perfection.
el aula, las aulas = classroom, classrooms [feminine noun with masculine article like agua, alma, ave]
el título, el grado, la diploma = degree, diploma
el jardín de infancia, el jardín de niños = kindergarten
el kindergarten, el kínder = kindergarten [Latin America]
la escuela = school
la (escuela) primaria = elementary school
la secundaria = middle school
el colegio = high school
la universidad, la uni = university, college
la escuela de posgrado, la escuela posgraduada, la escuela de postgrado = graduate school
la escuela/universidad técnica = vocational school
académico/a = academic, related to school/university
escolar = scholarly, scholastic / school-related
estudantil = student-related
el maestro, la maestra = teacher
el profesor, la profesora = professor
el / la profe = “teach” [informal slang for profesor(a)]
el doctor, la doctora = doctor
el tutor, la tutora = tutor
el estudiante, la estudiante = student
el alumno, la alumna = student, pupil
el condiscípulo, la condiscípula = classmate / schoolmate [formal]
el compañero de clase, la compañera de clase = classmate [more common]
el director, la directora = principal / director / headmaster, headmistress
el decano, la decana = dean (of a university)
el enfermero, la enfermera = nurse
el consejero, la consejera = adviser, counselor
el consejero académico, la consejera académica = guidance counselor [lit. “academic counselor/adviser”]
el socio, la socia = partner
el / la colega = colleague
el / la conserje (o conserja) = janitor, custodian / concierge (hotel)
Las materias escolares
el ámbito de estudio / el campo de estudio = field of study
el ámbito de trabajo / el campo de trabajo =
el ámbito de… = the field of…
las matemáticas, las mates = mathematics, maths [Spain] la matemática, la mate = mathematics, math [Latin America]
el álgebra = algebra [feminine noun with masculine article like agua, alma, ave]
la geometría = geometry
la trigonometría = trigonometry
el cálculo = calculus
las finanzas, la administración = finance
la contabilidad, la administración = accounting
la gestión = management, administration
la economía = economics
la estadística = statistics [as a field of study]
la historia = history
la geografía = geography
la antropología = anthropology
la ciencia, las ciencias = science, sciences
la medicina = medicine
la medicina deportiva = sports medicine
la odontología = dentistry
la educación física = physical education
la veterinaria = veterinary medicine
la zoología = zoology / animal science
la enfermería = nursing / medical study
la biología = biology / life science
la biología marina = marine biology
la ecología = ecology
la agricultura = agriculture
la arquitectura = architecture
la ingeniería = engineering
la química = chemistry
la geología = geology / earth science
la meteorología = meteorology / weather science
la astronomía = astronomy
la psicología, la sicología = psychology
la psiquiatría, la siquiatría = psychiatry
la sociología = sociology
la filosofía = philosophy
la política / la ciencia política = politics / political science
la literatura = literatura
el arte = art
la historia del arte = art history
las bellas artes = fine arts
el arte culinario = culinary arts
el arte gráfico = graphic arts
el arte dramático = dramatic arts
el drama, el teatro = drama, theater
la historia del teatro = theater history
los artes liberales / las humanidades = liberal arts / humanities
el periodismo = journalism
la ciencia empresarial = business science
el negocio = business
el Derecho = Law
la abogacía = law / study to become a lawyer
la lengua, el idioma = language
las lenguas extranjeras, los idiomas extranjeros = foreign languages
la lingüística = linguistics
la traducción = translation
la interpretación = interpreting
la informática = computer science / information technology (IT)
la ciencia computacional = computer science
la física = physics
la educación, la enseñanza = teaching
estudiar = to study
estudiar en el extranjero = to study abroad
aprender = to learn
enseñar = to teach
entregar = to hand in, to turn in
escribir = to write
leer = to read
escuchar = to hear / to listen
oír = to hear / to listen
pensar = to think
acordarse = to remember
recordar = to recall, to remember
practicar = to practice
empezar a hacer algo = to start to do something
comenzar a hacer algo = to begin to do something
ayudar = to help
investigar = to investigate / to research
licenciarse = to graduate, to get a degree
graduarse = to graduate (from school)
preguntar = to question, to wonder
hacer una pregunta = to ask a question
tener una pregunta = to have a question
contestar = to answer
ensayar = to try out, to test / to rehearse (theater)
poner a prueba = to put to the test
empeorar = to get worse, to worsen
mejorar = to get better, improve
desarrollar = to develop, to build
desarrollarse = to grow, to develop (oneself)
prestar (la) atención = to pay attention
equivocarse = to be wrong
tener (la) razón = to be right
tener sentido = to make sense
*Note: There are some regionalisms in here, and some have so many regionalisms I couldn’t include them on the list.
For instance, “to take a test” has so many regionalisms it’s difficult to list them all. In Mexico you’re probably going to hear presentar un examen. Some places will say hacer un examen, some even put it as el maestro / la maestra pone un examen a los estudiantes.
The default way of saying “to take a test” is dar un examen which is literally “to give an exam”, because you hand a test in to your teacher. Along the same lines, the default way a teacher “gives a test” is tomar un examen because they “take” the tests that the students turn in. For that reason, dar un examen is often translated as “to sit for an exam” to help the meaning come across more easily.
an analytic approach to proving the nikiforov theorem
so a little while back i was briefly contemplating the mathematicians au of yuri on ice (why), and today it came back with a vengeance and hit me in the face. believe me, i deeply regret all the life choices that have led me to this place.
victor nikiforov is a rising star in russian mathematics, particularly known for his off-beat approach to familiar problems and a certain elegance that’s unmistakable. at sixteen he gets invited to a young mathematicians conference in sofia, where he gives a talk about certain properties of the elliptic curve.
some weeks later, yuuko, who’s been sharing little puzzles and problems with yuuri for as long as he can remember, finds him with a handful of papers printed from arxiv and says, “look.”
it’s the first time yuuri looks at a chain of logic, ruthlessly solid from beginning to end, and feels that certainty all the way through.
yuuri presses his fingers to the “victor nikiforov” printed primly under the title and thinks, i want to solve a problem with him. one day.
Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader
Wrote for my friend A… and T… ❤️
Written by xoxoTheQueenOfHearts
WARNING: Contains bdsm related things and possible class humiliation ⚠️
“Welcome class, to the first lesson of…” the young male teacher walks to the blackboard, picking up the chalk and writing it in large letters “BONDAGE 101”
A roar of giggling and laughter breaks out among the students, a relatively small attendance of only a few people and now you understood why. You were the only girl and you were dressed in the standard uniform. A short skirt with pigtails and glasses. Your eyes down in a book, not paying much attention to the teacher or the other students for that matter.
The teacher continued on “If you came here for immature reasons then I suggest you leave now”. But not a single person moved, the sound dying down as all eyes once again followed the strict and serious teacher.
“Good, now we will continue. Bondage is about control, power. For the dominant, it’s complete ownership over the submissive and just as so, for the submissive it is the feeling of being helpless and restrained. The feeling of rope or steel against their skin as they fight for freedom. Now can I get a volunteer up here?” Everyone in the class immediately began staring at you in the room, as you still were reading your book calmly, after a few moments without looking up.
You raise your hand when you get to the end of the page and close the book, laying it at the desk. Standing up and walking up to the desk and waiting patiently for your orders.
“Alright Miss, straighten your arms behind your back” Mr. Jeon instructed.
You did as you were told and Mr. Jeon pulled a small length of rope from a drawer in his desk. Tying it around your wrists and knotting it tightly. He grabs you by the back of the shirt and turns you to face the rest of the students, your breasts more clear through your shirt due to your arms pulling the fabric tight to your body.
Mr. Jeon smiles a bit and speaks in a loud voice for everyone to hear, “Do you see the ropes? They are to make you feel more confined and submissive then before.”
But you faint a smirk and speak clearly in a sarcastic tone, just as he, loudly enough for the class to hear “Not at all, I’m more comfortable then ever.“
A few students in the back laugh but it quickly dies down which caused Mr. Jeon to grab your shirt once again and turns you around, forcing you against the desk which causes you to bend naturally at your waist, bending over the desk just as he had intended for you.
Your short skirt still covering half your thighs. He asks the question again, and once again he gets a sarcastic answer.
You laid your head against the desk with a grin on your face. ‘He couldn’t possible do anything more…could he?’ You thought, but of course he was willing to take it as far as it had to go to prove his point.
He reached down to the hem of your skirt and lifted it up, over your back, revealing your panties to the entire class. You began fighting and wiggling but he held you where your shirt was down against the hard wooden desk. He didn’t have to ask again, he knew from your reaction that you realized how helpless you really were.
And just at the most tense moment, when the class sat in shock, you started blushing and becoming embarrassed, not sure how to accept a humiliation that you volunteered for, the bell rang.
The students didn’t move a muscle, every single one of them sat motionless with their gazes on the intense scene at the front of the classroom. Mr. Jeon waited a moment and as they stayed before he started to usher them out with his hand, “Are all of you deaf? Get going.” he said as he released you and walked over to the door, opening it and holding it open, a look of impatience clear on his face.
The boys slowly got up and walked out, each taking a final look at you still paralyzed at the edge of the desk. Some of the boys even considering the idea of running up and grabbing at you, but after seeing such a strict look on the teachers face, they decided against it.
After all of the boys had walked out, you had managed the courage to speak. “Alright, lesson’s over, let me go.” You said with a slight tremble in your voice.
The teacher closed the door and ignored you. Walking back over to you as you started to stand up, he grabbed you by your hair causing you to arch your back and whimper in pain a bit. Putting his mouth close to your ear he spoke in a soft tone and as calmly as he could he asked the question from before once more. “Do the ropes make you feel confined and submissive?”
You paused a moment enticing him but that only causes him to reach up and aggressively grab your breast through your shirt. You screamed. "Yes!”
But he squeezes firmly again and says “Yes what? Be respectful, you know how to be respectful don’t you?”
“Yes sir!” You say in a whimper and he releases you and you collapse back onto the desk and once again he lifts your skirt. You stuttered. “w-w-what are you doing?” and in the strictest and coldest voice so far he responded.
“Giving you a spanking for your behavior. You not only disrespected me, you also embarrassed me in front of the class.”
“b-b-but you c-c-an’t do that!” You stuttered out again half regretting sassing him in class but also half excited. He was your hottest teacher and you did have a crush on him.
He ignores you as he starts pulling your panties down and letting them fall to your ankles, sliding his hand over your ass, getting familiar with the shape of it. Then he slides his fingers between your legs, probing against your heated core. A chill goes down your spine as you felt so violated and weak, even more so because in a sick way, you felt excited by it. You felt pressure on your inner thigh as you realize it’s his hand leading you to spread your legs.
You follow his direction unconsciously, leaving your legs wide enough to keep you balanced. Then a moment of peace as his hand rears back into the air and it all comes to an end when his palm plants against her waiting skin.
It stings at first but starts to become more of a burning. Your body tenses up and you flinched when it hits. Followed by your muscles relaxing beyond your control, your whole body is sore from fighting the ropes, you give into it and accept it, but once again a hand lifts up and comes down at the other side of your bottom.
Heavier then before. You tensed up again but each and every time, you recover quicker then before. He continues to punish you for what seems like hours. And by the end of it, you don’t want to admit it but you were so turned on by the whole thing, and you leave a small puddle of your juices at the edge of the desk.
Mr. Jeon unties your wrists and then walks around to his chair behind the desk, “Stand up.” he says and you immediately obey.
Your cheeks glossed with tears, still sobbing a bit and trying not to let the teacher know that you enjoyed it more then it hurt you. He looks you in the eye and asks, “Do you think you were punished unfairly?”
You hesitated for a moment before shaking your head, admitting that you had deserved it while secretly thinking about how glad you were to have done so.
“Now, you will return for this class on time every day, you will help me demonstrate or you will get an F in this course, I own you now, understood?” He said which caused you to nod and her reaches back to rub your burning cheeks.
Mr. Jeon stands up and walks back around to you but you don’t move. ”…and one last thing.” he bends down hooking his finger into the waistband of your panties, that were still at your ankles. “I’ll be keeping these, you are not to wear underwear for the rest of the day, nor sleep in any clothes tonight, is that clear?”
You say in a low voice blushing. “Yes sir.” You said as you step out of your panties and he lifts them up from the floor, tossing them onto his desk and walking back around to his chair.
“Now get going, you have other classes to attend to.” He demanded in a strict tone.
You did as you were told, walking off slowly and opening the door, taking one last look back at your panties on the desk and then to him.
The final thought of whether he was to be your new master enters your head right as you close the door, taking a moment to adjust your skirt and pull it down as far as it will go. The whole thing playing over again and again in your mind, the bruises on your wrists and the welts on your bottom being a sore reminder of the whole thing, another bell goes off which yanks you back into reality and you hurry off to your next class.
Not long after the teacher
dismisses the class Donghyuck’s strode to Mark’s desk and sat down. He lifts
his feet onto Jeno’s chair, twists his torso so he can see Mark and asks conversationally,
“Do you know which poem you’re going to choose for the assignment?”
I will love you with no regard to the actions of our enemies or the jealousies of actors. I will love you with no regard to the outrage of certain parents or the boredom of certain friends. I will love you no matter what is served in the world’s cafeterias or what game is played at each and every recess. I will love you no matter how many fire drills we are all forced to endure, and no matter what is drawn upon the blackboard in a blurring, boring chalk. I will love you no matter how many mistakes I make when trying to reduce fractions, and no matter how difficult it is to memorize the periodic table.
I will love you no matter what your locker combination was, or how you decided to spend your time during study hall. I will love you no matter how your soccer team performed in the tournament or how many stains I received on my cheerleading uniform. I will love you if I never see you again, and I will love you if I see you every Tuesday. I will love you if you cut your hair and I will love you if you cut the hair of others. I will love you if you abandon your baticeering, and I will love you if you retire from the theater to take up some other, less dangerous occupation. I will love you if you drop your raincoat on the floor instead of hanging it up and I will love you if you betray your father. I will love you even if you announce that the poetry of Edgar Guest is the best in the world and even if you announce that the work of Zilpha Keatley Snyder is unbearably tedious. I will love you if you abandon the theremin and take up the harmonica and I will love you if you donate your marmosets to the zoo and your tree frogs to M. I will love you as the starfish loves a coral reef and as kudzu loves trees, even if the oceans turn to sawdust and the trees fall in the forest without anyone around to hear them. I will love you as the pesto loves the fettuccine and as the horseradish loves the miyagi, as the tempura loves the ikura and the pepperoni loves the pizza.
I will love you as the manatee loves the head of lettuce and as the dark spot loves the leopard, as the leech loves the ankle of a wader and as a corpse loves the beak of the vulture. I will love you as the doctor loves his sickest patient and a lake loves its thirstiest swimmer. I will love you as the beard loves the chin, and the crumbs love the beard, and the damp napkin loves the crumbs, and the precious document loves the dampness in the napkin, and the squinting eye of the reader loves the smudged print of the document, and the tears of sadness love the squinting eye as it misreads what is written. I will love you as the iceberg loves the ship, and the passengers love the lifeboat, and the lifeboat loves the teeth of the sperm whale, and the sperm whale loves the flavor of naval uniforms. I will love you as a child loves to overhear the conversations of its parents, and the parents love the sound of their own arguing voices, and as the pen loves to write down the words these voices utter in a notebook for safekeeping. I will love you as a shingle loves falling off a house on a windy day and striking a grumpy person across the chin, and as an oven loves malfunctioning in the middle of roasting a turkey.
I will love you as an airplane loves to fall from a clear blue sky and as an escalator loves to entangle expensive scarves in its mechanisms. I will love you as a wet paper towel loves to be crumpled into a ball and thrown at a bathroom ceiling and an eraser loves to leave dust in the hairdos of the people who talk too much. I will love you as a cufflink loves to drop from its shirt and explore the party for itself and as a pair of white gloves loves to slip delicately into the punchbowl. I will love you as a taxi loves the muddy splash of a puddle and as a library loves the patient tick of a clock.
I will love you as a thief loves a gallery and as a crow loves a murder, as a cloud loves bats and as a range loves braes. I will love you as misfortune loves orphans, as fire loves innocence and as justice loves to sit and watch while everything goes wrong. I will love you as a battlefield loves young men and as peppermints love your allergies, and I will love you as the banana peel loves the shoe of a man who was just struck by a shingle falling off a house. I will love you as a volunteer fire department loves rushing into burning buildings and as burning buildings love to chase them back out, and as a parachute loves to leave a blimp and as a blimp operator loves to chase after it.
I will love you as a dagger loves a certain person’s back, and as a certain person loves to wear daggerproof tunics, and as a daggerproof tunic loves to go to a certain dry cleaning facility, and how a certain employee of a dry cleaning facility loves to stay up late with a pair of binoculars, watching a dagger factory for hours in the hopes of catching a burglar, and as a burglar loves sneaking up behind people with binoculars, suddenly realizing that she has left her dagger at home. I will love you as a drawer loves a secret compartment, and as a secret compartment loves a secret, and as a secret loves to make a person gasp, and as a gasping person loves a glass of brandy to calm their nerves, and as a glass of brandy loves to shatter on the floor, and as the noise of glass shattering loves to make someone else gasp, and as someone else gasping loves a nearby desk to lean against, even if leaning against it presses a lever that loves to open a drawer and reveal a secret compartment. I will love you until all such compartments are discovered and opened, and until all the secrets have gone gasping into the world. I will love you until all the codes and hearts have been broken and until every anagram and egg has been unscrambled.
I will love you until every fire is extinguished and until every home is rebuilt form the handsomest and most susceptible of woods, and until every criminal is handcuffed by the laziest of policemen. I will love you until M. hates snakes and J. hates grammar, and I will love you until C. realizes S. is not worthy of his love and N. realizes he is not worthy of the V.
I will love you until the bird hates a nest and the worm hates an apple, and until the apple hates a tree and the tree hates a nest, and until a bird hates a tree and an apple hates a nest, although honestly I cannot imagine that last occurrence no matter how hard I try. I will love you as we grow older, which has just happened, and has happened again, and happened several days ago, continuously, and then several years before that, and will continue to happen as the spinning hands of every clock and the flipping pages of every calendar mark the passage of time, except for the clocks that people have forgotten to wind and the calendars that people have forgotten to place in a highly visible area. I will love you as we find ourselves farther and farther from one another, where once we were so close that we could slip the curved straw, and the long, slender spoon, between our lips and fingers respectively.
I will love you until the chances of us running into one another slip from slim to zero, and until your face is fogged by distant memory, and your memory faced by distant fog, and your fog memorized by a distant face, and your distance distanced by the memorized memory of a foggy fog. I will love you no matter where you go and who you see, no matter where you avoid and who you don’t see, and no matter who sees you avoiding where you go. I will love you no matter what happens to you, and no matter how I discover what happens to you, and no matter what happens to me as I discover this, and no matter how I am discovered after what happens to me happens to me as I am discovering this.
I will love you if you don’t marry me. I will love you if you marry someone else – your co-star, perhaps, or Y., or even O., or anyone Z. through A., even R. although sadly I believe it will be quite some time before two women can be allowed to marry – and I will love you if you have a child, and I will love you if you have two children, or three children, or even more, although I personally think three is plenty, and I will love you if you never marry at all, and never have children, and spend your years wishing you had married me after all, and I must say that on late, cold nights I prefer this scenario out of all the scenarios I have mentioned. That, Beatrice, is how I will love you even as the world goes on its wicked way.
there is a reason they don’t tear the old houses down. there’s a reason they don’t fix them up, don’t try to keep living in them anymore either. i’m talking about the peeling houses you pass on the highway, in between long stretches of corn and wheat. there’s a doublewide trailer glowing television blue, and there’s the rotting corpse of a home resting not far behind. the first set is enough to make you wonder. the third and fourth make you worry, especially while driving through nameless land on a moonless night.
what’s keeping them there? the houses and the people. how long have the same families lived here, slept here on frozen fields untouched by suburban sprawl? did they come here from somewhere else? have they always been here? bound by the earth, fated to protect their dirt and all that lives beneath it.
try to keep your eyes on the road, but the ghost homes beckon you. caving porches, broken windows. a gaping roof reveals a white brick chimney. columns crumbling like blackboard chalk. come too close and the wind blowing through the moldy wood makes it look as though they’re breathing.
they say old houses sigh and creak. but not all old houses scream.
Looking over a freshly cut lawn is very satisfying. It seems quieter than ever when the sound of the lawnmower ceases. The smell of grass fills the air. Ella, who has been following me the whole time and dropping toys in my path, now has cute green Grinch paws.
A similar feeling happens at work around lunch time or near quitting time. On a busy day my Windows task bar has five or six open applications. A dozen or more items
within those applications. Who doesn’t love six open Excel worksheets?
Closing all but Outlook and one mainframe emulator soothes me. It’s like erasing a blackboard but without all the chalk dust on the floor. Nice and clean and ready for something new.