i've seen this many many many times

You’re allowed to be excited about the little things. You’re allowed to be goofy. You’re allowed to be dorky about your favorite tv show, to make blanket forts, to enjoy cheesy movies, even just to sleep with stuffed animals. You’re allowed to do any of the things that make life a little more bearable. It’s fine, ok?

slavic languages gothic

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 letters.

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.

8

a blessed fancam.

  • Cheryl: Every girl wants a prince who treats her like a princess
  • Betty: Why would I want to be a princess when I have I king who treats me like the queen I am?
  • Bughead: *high fives*
  • Archie: Why can't we be like that?
  • Veronica: Because you're a peasant
4

LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO

today in critical role finale things that make me cry:

laura giving liam his ‘do not go far from me’ ring back

because during the break, after vax died, he must have taken it off and given it to her (because he definitely has it on during the first half)

and he only takes it back when the campaign is wrapping up

4

Added gag gem of Chantal Janzen’s last performance (dutch production) you might have missed so I translated this bit for y’all to enjoy! (x)

you know what makes me so upset?? people basing luke’s entire worth on his looks or publicly shaming him for “getting ugly”. he’s not here to first be objectified and then harshly dissed when you feel like he no longer meets your physical standards. it’s fine if you’re not attracted to him anymore for whatever reason but please don’t make a huge deal about it and go around trash talking him solely based on his looks or screaming about how you’re “switching lanes” because luke “no longer does it for you”. you just look shallow and mean. so unnecessary.

Just wanna say – I’m SO HERE for the people who refer to Cas as “the love of Dean’s life” especially since 13x01.

Nothing sounds (and feels, and tastes) better than the truth, right? ;)

Originally posted by i-will-mourn-the-wicked

Matt said yes guys, what a surprise, wow.


HAPPY FIRST ANNIVERSARY OF TECHIENICIAN!
(Oldest post is here, and here’s the first content for the ship. I don’t know who picked the name “Techienician”, please tell me if you know! I’d love to credit them here :D).

aesthetic: masculine, action heavy dramas that turn suddenly, permanently diverse and seeing all the sexist dudes who watch them get completly thrown off while the writers laugh

2

The second best thing about this scene (because first best is the adorable power kink roleplay they’ve got going on) is how Alec instinctively goes back into his usual parade rest stance after the handshake, and then immediately breaks out of it because he can’t help touching Magnus again.