irish national

In Honor Of National Speak Your Language Day

As some of my mutuals know, I’m Irish. And I feel like our language gets a bad rap for being “useless”, “boring” and “difficult”.

Sure it’s one of the hardest to learn, sure no one really speaks it, but I still believe it is beautiful and I am proud to speech my mother tongue.

Is aoibhinn liom mé féin, is aoibhinn liom mo chairde agus is aoibhinn liom Tumblr.

Have some phrases to get your inner Irish on 💚☘:

Dia Duit = Hello/ Good Day.
Conas atá tú? = How are you?
Tá mé go maith. Agus tú féin? = I am well. And yourself?
Is aoibhinn liom tusa ❤ = I love you.

Kickers and their methods
  • Greig Laidlaw: [makes eyes at the posts]
  • Jules Plisson: [makes puppy eyes at the posts]
  • Owen Farrell: [makes weird eyes at the posts]
  • Johnny Sexton: [plays mind games with the posts]
  • Dan Biggar: [dances for the posts]
  • Sergio Parisse: [is unaware the posts exist]
6

@betweentwoears Offers a Picturesque Perspective on the Irish Countryside

To see more of Alex and Ben’s jaunts, follow @betweentwoears on Instagram.

Between the ears of Alex Calder’s (@caldalex) trusted chestnut thoroughbred Ben lies one of the finest views of the Irish countryside. “Where we live is an old part of Ireland, and it’s quite historic,” says Alex. “It’s where the Vikings came when they landed in the 800s or 900s. There’s an old, ruined castle, an 800-year-old church and an old corral, which apparently King John of England camped in.” Her scenes from the saddle on @betweentwoears draw inspiration from “The Finest View in Europe,” a painting by English artist Charles “Snaffles” Johnson Payne. “It’s just the horse’s head and neck and ears, and he’s looking over the fields. I always think of it when I take photos,” Alex says.

Luckily, Ben is mostly patient during impromptu photo shoots on their rides. “You can see how alert he is,” she says. “When I stop and take pictures, he sort of sticks his head up and pricks his ears.”

Endangered langblrs #2

This is the second post of this kind. As in the last post #1 I want to introduce you to important helpers of revitalising and documenting endangered and lesser-used languages here on tumblr. So, I will name some langblrs that deal partly or wholly with those languages. If you know more of such langblrs please tell me right away and I will mention them in a next post.

Greenlandic

Kalaallisut is a lesser-used language and certainly a minority language within the Danish realm.

@tulunnguaq

Laz language

ლაზური ენა, lazuri ena, or ჭანური ენა, ç̌anuri ena is an endangered Kartvelian language spoken by 22,000 people in Turkey and Georgia that is related to Georgian. 

@anadolular

Chickasaw

Chikashshanompa’ is a Muscogean language that is currently spoken by less than 75 people in Oklahoma.

@fractalrainbow

Irish

Gaeilge is the national language of Ireland but only has around 74,000 mother speakers.

@teangacha
@chronically-chilll
@seanfhocail

Scottish Gaelic

Gàidhlig is also a Celtic language as Irish is and is spoken in Scotland and Canada by only 57,000 mother speakers.

@ambi-alba
@selchieproductions
@sgribhisg

Cornish

Kernowek is a revived Celtic language that has gained some new mother speakers again.

@fortheloveoflanguistics (Also about language revitalisation in general)

Sami languages

Saami languages are Uralic languages, related to Finnish and Estonian, and are spoken by around 30,000 mother speakers.

@selchieproductions (Southern Swedish Saami)
@fara-learns-sami (Northern Saami)

I really hope that this will inspire more of you to submit other blogs that deal with a certain endangered, lesser-used or minority/regional language or with language endangerment and revitalisation in general. The network and possibilities of tumblr are such good resources for languages that have hardly any visibility elsewhere and especially no resources to learn with. So, let’s spread this message further, so I will get more submission of endangered langblrs to share with you. Thanks a lot!

George Weasley x Reader: Gifts

AN: It tisn’t the season but who doesn’t love the holidays? ;) I just want to say thank you for all of your patience! There should be another fic this week as well!

Request: Anonymous

Warnings: N/A

Christmas Eve at the Weasley’s was a magical, truly magical, event. Arthur would chop down a large tree from the forest off of Ottery St. Catchpole, and Charlie and Bill would help him drag it inside. Percy and Mrs. Weasley took great care in stringing the lights and decking the branches with ornaments and glittery tinsel. Bill would pull Ginny on his shoulders and she would place the star on top, while Ron brought out the gifts to place underneath the tree. The twins enchanted a toy train to huff and puff on the rug before the fireplace, and everyone was in high spirits as snow drifted in sheets in the yard.

Y/N had experienced this merriment once before, but it seemed to be just as special the next year. Afterall, she had started dating George on Christmas Eve and she looked forward to their private celebration on the rooftop at midnight. While sometimes she felt out of place, the Weasley’s always made her feel welcome and right at home. The bunch gathered around the supper table - all of the redheads, Hermione, Harry and Y/N included. Mrs. Weasley prepared a very succulent roast ham, as well as whipped potatoes, roasted chestnuts, and a lovely pecan pie. The room was filled with noise, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t filled with cheer.

“It looks delicious, Mrs. Weasley, really.” Y/N said, placing her napkin in her lap.

“Oh, thank you dear.” She replied, sitting down herself. “I do hope I made enough for everyone.”

Arthur Weasley was already three bites into his slice of ham. Always very intrigued with Y/N, for she came from a half muggle family, he started conversation right away.

“What is it that you called the game with the ball on the ground? And the kicking?” He asked, spitting bits of food about. Mrs. Weasley looked disgruntled.

“Football, Mr. Weasley. The Americans call it soccer. They have a world cup every few years, just like Quidditch.” Y/N replied.

“Yeah, dad. Y/N and her family got seats right next to the muggle Prime Minister!” Ron said, excitedly.

Y/N flushed a deep red.

“I-It was an h-honor.” She stammered. “I am grateful for that opportunity.”

Arthur smiled pleasantly, and went back to his food. Catching a knowing glance from Harry, Y/N’s eyes focused on her food. Y/N’s family was very wealthy, in contrast to the Weasley’s. While she knew that neither party had any qualms about the other, she didn’t like to flaunt her wealth. She thought that it was tacky.

“Next month you’re going to see the Weird Sisters in concert aren’t you, Y/N?” Bill asked, excitedly. “Fred said that you’d got backstage passes!”

Y/N almost choked on her potatoes, but swallowed quickly and dabbed at her lip with her napkin. All pairs of eyes at the table were on her.

“Y-Yes.” She said, quietly. “I feel very fortunate.”

Dinner progressed, and Y/N found herself saying very little. She hadn’t found a balance between being ashamed about her wealth and being too haughty. It seemed as though the differences between the families were shockingly obvious. Students at school who were particularly nasty would taunt George about it, and while he put on a brave face, Y/N knew he felt a little embarrassed. Her clothes were always brand new, in comparison to the Weasley’s hand-me-downs. Her potions equipment was bronzed, and her cauldron was top quality. Many of the Weasley children had to share equipment, and Ron’s cauldron was being held together by spell-o-tape.

After their meal was finished, Fred and Harry helped Mr. Weasley clean up the table, and Mrs. Weasley served the pie. Once everyone was full, they all sat by the fire and watched the train whistle. Gradually everyone slipped off to bed, except for George and Y/N.

“I’m almost ready to head out to the roof, I just have to put some finishing touches on your gift.” George said.

He hadn’t said much at dinner, refusing to make eye contact with Y/N after Ron and Bill’s display. He ate his food quietly, and seemed rather jumpy when Fred tried to coax a conversation out of him. Y/N worried she had said something to upset him, and that she had ruined their one-year anniversary. As he scampered up the stairwell, Y/N pulled out her gift to him.

It was wrapped very neatly, in red and white paper. Little holiday sayings littered the wrappings and they were enchanted to glow brightly in the dim lighting. The ribbon was curled expertly, and she had carefully scrawled his name on the tag in her best print: “Georgie <3”. She put it behind her back, and carefully climbed the staircase, ducking out the window to the roof.

George was having a minor nervous breakdown in him and Fred’s room. While Fred was in his underpants, flopped over on the bed and snoring peacefully, George rushed about the room, ruffling paper and craft supplies. He tried his best to dress up the gift, but no matter how hard he tried, it looked pathetic. The package was made of three different wrapping papers, spell-o-tape binding everything together. Multiple different Santa Clauses waved merrily at him, some in sleighs, some carrying sacks, and all bumping into each other from the wrapping job. George winced, hoping that the darkness of the night would work in his favor.

He crawled out onto the pitch of the house, and stopped dead in his tracks. Y/N was sitting, her legs dangling off of the side, and George was completely speechless. The stars looked like they sparkled in her y/h/c hair perfectly, but their shine was lackluster compared to her y/e/c eyes. They glimmered in the night like expensive jewels. When she turned to look at him, she smiled and his heart stopped completely. Y/N was the most fantastic girl in the world and his stomach trembled at what she would think of his gift.

“Georgie, open yours first!” Y/N said, excitedly shoving her package into his lap as soon as he sat down.

He chuckled, trying to relax his nerves, and ran a hand through his wild auburn hair. He held the package between his hands and Y/N snuggled into his arm. His brown eyes danced into half-moons with adoration at his lovely girlfriend. George opened the package very carefully, lifting up the tape in a way that did not rip the parchment. Y/N watched his every move with excitement.

When he finally got the wrapping off, he put the ribbon and paper to the side, saving it because he thought it was beautiful. There was a lump of shockingly green fabric. Curious, he tugged it upwards and the cloth unfurled. It was a jersey from the Irish National Quidditch Team, and for the second time that night he was speechless.

“Y/N… love…” He croaked, once he was able to get a word out.

“Look at the back Georgie!” She squealed with excitement.

He turned it around, and noticed a dark and messy scrawl on a bit of the back. His name was there, written along with a short note and a sloppy signature. George felt as if electricity was surging through his veins. He was so excited and at the same time so reluctant to give his gift to Y/N. She watched him very cautiously with bated breath, afraid that she had shamed him with her extravagant gift.

“It’s… Barry Ryan…” George murmured.

Y/N became limp. Was it the Keeper that he liked or was it one of the Chasers?

“Th-That’s your favorite right? Ryan’s the one you like?” She questioned, wanting to make sure.

“Yeah… he signed it… for me?” George said, exasperated.

“Do you like it?” Y/N asked.

“It’s… so perfect.” George said.

His cheeks were dusted with pink as he brought his gift from behind his back to show her. Y/N did indeed notice the wrapping, but she thought it couldn’t have been more perfect. It showed that George really tried to make it look presentable for her, and that he’d worked so very hard on it. She took it from him carefully, and exercised the same amount of caution that he did while opening it. Y/N placed every scrap of paper in a neat pile by her side, saving them.

Because she thought it was beautiful.

As she tore away piece by piece she slowly uncovered the present that was waiting for her. On the top was fabric as well. She unraveled it to find a beautiful white scarf, made out of very soft material. Below it was a small, leather bound book. The front was painted with wildflowers, and as she thumbed through it, she saw that most of the pages were blank and lined. The first few pages had been written in.

George had written her a love note and pasted in a photograph of the pair. In it, Y/N was sitting on George’s lap, smiling and chattering with their friends. His arms were wrapped around her, and he planted a kiss on her cheek, looking at her as if she was the most entrancing thing in the entire world.

Y/N was confused. Flourish and Blotts didn’t sell journals like this. Their journals were spiral bound, and made of much denser paper.

“Georgie…” Y/N said, softly.

George was ready to rip his hair from his head. She had gone to all of this trouble to get this signed for him and what had he gotten her? A bloody notebook and scarf.

“I know, it’s not much.” George said, pulling her into his lap. “And I’m really, really sorry. I took some odd jobs to try and save for something really nice, but…”

Y/N put her hand over his mouth.

“George, where did you get this notebook?” She asked.

He shifted uncomfortably.

“I, erm.” He seemed to not want to tell her.

She waited patiently, staring down at the cover in her hands.

“I made it.” He said. “I know you love to write. And-and I like to hear your poems and stories. So I bought the leather myself, and I… I… I painted the cover, and bound it as best as I could so nothing would fall out, and I know sometimes you’re timid about starting new things so I put a little note in there to encourage you.”

Y/N was still silent.

“And I know you’ve been eyeing that scarf in the window of Madame Malkin’s for weeks now, and I really hoped that you hadn’t gone in to buy it yet so I asked Madame Malkin to save it for me when I had the money to buy it.”

Y/N was filled to the brim with emotions, and tears started to drip from her eyes. George craned his neck to see what her expression was, and felt like his heart was stomped flat when he saw her crying.

“Oh, Y/N! Shh, shh love, I’m so SO sorry.” He said, hushing her and squeezing her tight. “I’m- I’m,”

“George this is the greatest gift I have ever gotten.” She said, quietly.

He stopped stuttering and held a look of confusion.

“Come again?” He said, blankly.

“No one has ever put this much thought into a gift for me before. George, I can’t believe you bought my favorite scarf, and the- the journal, it’s so wonderful. I love you so much, darling.” Y/N explained, tears of joy dropping wildly from her eyes.

George was so relieved he almost passed out – or passed away. He pulled Y/N back and kissed her firmly on the lips. She laughed, wiping the tears from her eyes, and the two watched the moon sail over the stars as they held each other close.

flickr

Hidden Gem by Pawel Pentlinowski
Via Flickr:
Model: Helen O'Brien

discourse™

“stop erasing Ronan’s Irishness!!!” sure because the Irish (which is a nationality, not a race by the way) are so underrepresented?? lmao sis how is wanting the Irish guy to be played by a mixed race boy erasing anything? do you think Ireland is only white people?