can we.. stop being so harsh on kids who use o3o, xD, x3, -3-, or types liek dish :3 because when i typed like that when i was 9/10 i was so happy at the time and it was just such of a good year for me. i do still sometimes think its embarassing but..? it doesnt effect you. theyre just being kids having fun, please dont make fun of them or make them feel bad..
You see a sentence
written in cyrillic. Some of the letters are familiar. You see the
meaning shimmering underneath the surface. You almost grasp it, but it slips away. The letters on the page mock you silently.
You know this Czech word. You’ve already learnt it in Polish. It is not the same word. It is a grave insult. Your slavic friends are shocked and embarassed for you when they hear you speak it.
There is a sentence in
Croatian. There is a sentence in Serbian. There is a sentence in
Bosnian. They are all the same sentence.
You have to write about your day in Slovak. You spend the night polishing the draft. You fail your assigment. It’s written in Czech. You don’t know Czech.
P is not what it seems. You have to remember that.
The Croatian sentence
does not mean what the Bosnian sentence means. They both mean the same in Serbian.
That word has a diminutive. The diminutive has its own diminutive. The diminutive of the diminutive also has a diminutive. Nobody knows what the final diminutive of a word is. Some say the knowledge had been lost in centuries past and matrioshkas are the echo, the tangible warning left for us to remember. No living creature should hold the means of diminishing something into nonexistence. Others say you may still find some of them in old soviet textbooks, if you dare to look in abandoned schools of Chernobyl.
Someone is speaking to you. Is that a he or a she? You aren’t sure. It’s an abstract concept. Why does it have gender.
You see a word in a
dictionary. It has seventeen letters and only one vowel. You close the dictionary very carefully not
looking at the phonetic transcription. The shape of it haunts you in
your sleep. You wake
up face damp with tears, a bitter taste on your tongue. The clock blinks 3:03AM. You do not dare look up that word again.
This word means the
same thing in the five slavic languages you’re familiar with. You use
it in the sixth one. That word does not exist in this language. It never
did. There is now a word-shaped void in the fabric of this language.
The natives look at you uneasily. There is a new quality to the silence and your palms start to sweat.
H is not H. H is not H. H is not H. H is not H.
One day you flip through your dictionary. A page is missing. What was the word? You can’t remember. There is pressure building at the back of your head. The clock blinks 3:03AM.
You write my name
is in cyrillic. There are shadows dancing on the walls. They grow
longer with each letter you write down. It is not cyrillic you’re
using. You keep writing my name is. The shadows now bleed from
the tip of your pen. It’s irrelevant. You need to remember the right
N is not N is not N is
not N is not N is not N is not N is not N is not N is not N is not N
is not… If only you could remember the letters. The letters are important. What was it, that wasn’t N?
There are nine different prefixes
you can add to a verb to change its meaning. There are fifty three different suffixes you have to add to a verb to make it
work. In the end the only thing left of the original is a vague shape
of one of its middle consonants.
You can feel the anguish radiating from the verb’s mutialted form. A desperate sob escapes through your clenched teeth.
You’re so, so sorry, you didn’t meant to. You didn’t. It doesn’t matter.
You now read a text in
Russian. You’ve never learnt Russian. Why are you reading that text? The words burn your eyes,
the meaning searing your mind.
There’s a shot of vodka in front of
you. You don’t drink alcohol. You don’t care. All existence is
meaningless, your soul’s in eternal pain. A broken matrioshka lays at your feet. There is no salvation, she says boring into your eyes. You open your mouth to answer, but there is only a burst of harsh rustle. It dies in whispering echoes a moment later. Your glass is empty again.
i wrote an essay on my labyrinth feels and make a graphic to go with it
the way Sarah says “you have no power over me” at the end of labyrinth is SO IMPORTANT. she says it not as a decree that breaks his power over her, but like it’s a realization; it’s coming to a conclusion that he is already aware of. Because, really, what has Jareth been doing this whole movie but trying to prevent her from realizing this? He intimidates her, mocks her, threatens her, distracts her, and ultimately begs her: “just fear me, love me, do as I say…” all (except the last) empty attempts to convince her of his power, and her own inferiority. And when he does beg, his desperation becomes obvious enough for her to figure out his game, that he has no power over her and never did, game over, Sarah 1 Jareth 0.
And you can totally see this “f UCK DAMN SHE WAS NOT SUPPOSED TO FIGURE THAT OUT“ on jareth’s face just before he disappears; people make jareth out to be this Cool Sauve Villain but the thing is that he’s trying to come off that way. he is actually kind of ridiculous; he’s running around desperately trying to impress this 15-year-old-girl who’s beating him at his own game and he is failing. and that’s great. labyrinth is great. labyrinth is a coming-of-age story about a teenage girl defeating the man who’s trying to bully her into submission by seeing right through his constructed facade of power, and calling him out on it.
I like labyrinth because it has wonderful, bizzare special effects and horrible musical numbers and quirky characters and is a Cool Vintage Fantasy Movie. I love labyrinth because when i first saw this movie it sucked me in by being weird and endearing and then it said to my 15-year-old-identifying-with-sarah-self “YOUR WILL IS STRONG AND YOUR KINGDOM IS GREAT; NEVER LET ANYONE MAKE YOU BELIEVE YOU ARE NOT POWERFUL.”
Using the tissue, Gon gently wiped the blood smudged across the edges Killua’s mouth. It took a few tries to clean all of the bright red away, and it was only after the first and second wipe that Gon suddenly realized that he was touching Killua’s lips.
He froze, heat rushing to his cheeks so fast his head swam.
“Gon?” Killua said quietly.
SO I’ve been wanting to draw for Words That Water Flowers for a while now and finally had the time today!!!
( ´ ▽ ` )
—a very good fic by @decembercamiecherries!!! And I can’t thank DC enough for their fics, so I hope you like this!!!
Please give the fic a read if you can!
I just wanted you to know that my favorite sidlink hc is Sidon giving Link random surprise visits after the calamity is defeated and he does it so often and unexpectedly that he just ends up tagging along with Link and Zelda. Sidon likes to be helpful by making them food while traveling and being just generally helpful. He also stick to Link like glue and likes to cuddle him, carry him, and hold hands with him constantly. Just some cute things I wanted to share. ^-^
i can imagine link falling slowly for Sidon, bc hes always there and Zelda just knows whats up haha