remember that one time i wrote a thing

Hello sweeties! Sometimes we need our days off, whether it’s a cold or a burnout. But as someone with anxiety, there were moments I was worried too much about the work i’d have to catch up, instead of using the day to relax. Now I can finally be calm when I’m absent, so here are my tips ♥

Contact your teacher:
When I had to be away from school because of anything other than sickness, I always made sure to send an email to my teacher. Especially when I knew it was a busy week. This can get you ahead of work and show you’re responsible. 

Talk to your classmates:
Call or text a responsible friend or the class representative (if you have one) so they can tell you what you’ve missed, what homework teachers have left, etc. Ask about class, tips, presentations, dates, exams, handouts or anything else that could’ve been mentioned.

Back in school:
If by any reason you can’t contact your teacher or your friends, make sure to ask your teacher to give you any material she handed out while you were away, and borrow a friend’s notes. This is important because teachers usually repeat (in the lecture) or write down (on the board) what will be on the test. 

Catch up as soon as possible: 
When you have everything you need, start work right away. Don’t procrastinate, especially now because work will start to pile up and we don’t want that now do we? 

Getting back on track:
here’s a vid that could help you: getting your life together. This is the time to get your post-its, planner, calendars and everything organization so you don’t miss anything. 

Check your priorities:
There’s a few teachers that didn’t tell me to catch up on practice work or things we’ll keep doing throughout the month. Talk to them and maybe they’ll give you more time or duplicate a grade from your next text, especially if you’re good at the subject. 

Don’t forget new assignments :
Is your new assignment for tomorrow and your catch-up work for next week? you know which one to do first. Make yourself a schedule, grab a snack, and work slowly but steadily.

*I wrote each one of these personally, so please don’t repost. I hope this helps you, and remember being absent doesn’t have to mean anxiety! If you have any questions, don’t hesitate on messaging me ^_^ © freepic icon

Love, Yumi 💛

The Okinawan Language

Anybody who has studied Japanese and Linguistics will know that Japanese is a part of the Japonic language family. For many years it was thought that Japanese was a language isolate, unrelated to any other language (Although there is some debate as to whether or not Japanese and Korean are related).

Today, most linguists are in agreement that Japanese is not an isolate. The Japonic languages are split into two groups:

Japanese (日本語) and its dialects, which range from standard Eastern Japanese (東日本方言) to the various dialects found on Kyūshū (九州日本方言), which are, different, to say the least.

The Ryukyuan Languages (琉球語派). Which are further subdivided into Northern and Southern Ryukyuan languages. Okinawan is classified as a Northern Ryukyuan Languages. There are a total of 6 Ryukyuan languages, each with its own dialects. The Ryukyuan languages exist on a continuum, somebody who speaks Okinawan will have a more difficult time understanding the Yonaguni Language, which is spoken on Japan’s southernmost populated island.

Japanese and Okinawan (I am using the Naha dialect of Okinawan because it was the standard language of the Ryukyu Kingdom), are not intelligible. Calling Okinawan a dialect of Japanese is akin to calling Dutch a dialect of English. It is demonstrably false. Furthermore, there is an actual Okinawan dialect of Japanese, which borrows elements from the Okinawan language and infuses it with Japanese.

So, where did the Ryukyuan languages come from? This is a question that goes hand in hand with theories about where Ryukyuan people come from. George Kerr, author of Okinawan: The History of an Island People (An old book, but necessary read if you’re interested in Okinawa), theorised that Ryukyuans and Japanese split from the same population, with one group going east to Japan from Korea, whilst the other traveled south to the Ryukyu Islands.

“In the language of the Okinawan country people today the north is referred to as nishi, which Iha Fuyu (An Okinawn scholar) derives from inishi (’the past’ or ‘behind’), whereas the Japanese speak of the west as nishi. Iha suggests that in both instances there is preserved an immemorial sense of the direction from which migration took place into the sea islands.”
(For those curious, the Okinawan word for ‘west’ is いり [iri]).
But, it must be stated that there are multiple theories as to where Ryukyuan and Japanese people came from, some say South-East Asia, some say North Asia, via Korea, some say that it is a mixture of the two. However, this post is solely about language, and whilst the relation between nishi in both languages is intriguing, it is hardly conclusive.

With that said, the notion that Proto-Japonic was spoken by migrants from southern Korea is somewhat supported by a number of toponyms that may be of Gaya origin (Or of earlier, unattested origins). However, it also must be said, that such links were used to justify Japanese imperialism in Korea.

Yeah, when it comes to Japan and Korea, and their origins, it’s a minefield.

What we do know is that a Proto-Japonic language was spoken around Kyūshū, and that it gradually spread throughout Japan and the Ryukyu Islands. The question of when this happened is debatable. Some scholars say between the 2nd and 6th century, others say between the 8th and 9th centuries. The crucial issue here, is the period in which proto-Ryukyuan separated from mainland Japanese.

“The crucial issue here is that the period during which the proto-Ryukyuan separated(in terms of historical linguistics) from other Japonic languages do not necessarily coincide with the period during which the proto-Ryukyuan speakers actually settled on the Ryūkyū Islands.That is, it is possible that the proto-Ryukyuan was spoken on south Kyūshū for some time and the proto-Ryukyuan speakers then moved southward to arrive eventually in the Ryūkyū Islands.”

This is a theory supported by Iha Fuyu who claimed that the first settlers on Amami were fishermen from Kyūshū.

This opens up two possibilities, the first is that ‘Proto-Ryukyuan’ split from ‘Proto-Japonic’, the other is that it split from ‘Old-Japanese’. As we’ll see further, Okinawan actually shares many features with Old Japanese, although these features may have existed before Old-Japanese was spoken.

So, what does Okinawan look like?

Well, to speakers of Japanese it is recognisable in a few ways. The sentence structure is essentially the same, with a focus on particles, pitch accent, and a subject-object-verb word order. Like Old Japanese, there is a distinction between the terminal form ( 終止形 ) and the attributive form ( 連体形 ). Okinawan also maintains the nominative function of nu ぬ (Japanese: no の). It also retains the sounds ‘wi’ ‘we’ and ‘wo’, which don’t exist in Japanese anymore. Other sounds that don’t exist in Japanese include ‘fa’ ‘fe’ ‘fi’ ‘tu’ and ‘ti’.

Some very basic words include:

はいさい (Hello, still used in Okinawan Japanese)
にふぇーでーびる (Thank you)
うちなー (Okinawa) 沖縄口 (Uchinaa-guchi is the word for Okinawan)
めんそーれー (Welcome)
やまとぅ (Japan, a cognate of やまと, the poetic name for ‘Japan’)

Lots of Okinawan can be translated into Japanese word for word. For example, a simple sentence, “Let’s go by bus”
バス行こう (I know, I’m being a little informal haha!)
バスっし行ちゃびら (Basu sshi ichabira).
As you can see, both sentences are structured the same way. Both have the same loanword for ‘bus’, and both have a particle used to indicate the means by which something is achieved, ‘で’ in Japanese, is ‘っし’ in Okinawan.

Another example sentence, “My Japanese isn’t as good as his”
彼より日本語が上手ではない (Kare yori nihon-go ga jouzu dewanai).
彼やか大和口ぬ上手やあらん (Ari yaka yamatu-guchi nu jooji yaaran).
Again, they are structured the same way (One important thing to remember about Okinawan romanisation is that long vowels are represented with ‘oo’ ‘aa’ etc. ‘oo’ is pronounced the same as ‘ou’).

Of course, this doesn’t work all of the time, if you want to say, “I wrote the letter in Okinawan”
沖縄語手紙を書いた (Okinawa-go de tegami wo kaita).
沖縄口さーに手紙書ちゃん (Uchinaa-guchi saani tigami kachan).
For one, さーに is an alternate version of っし, but, that isn’t the only thing. Okinawan doesn’t have a direct object particle (を in Japanese). In older literary works it was ゆ, but it no longer used in casual speech.

Introducing yourself in Okinawan is interesting for a few reasons as well. Let’s say you were introducing yourself to a group.
In Japanese you’d say
みんなさこんにちは私はフィリクスです (Minna-san konnichiwa watashi ha Felixdesu)
ぐすよー我んねーフィリクスでぃいちょいびーん (Gusuyoo wan’nee Felix di ichoibiin).
Okinawan has a single word for saying ‘hello’ to a group. It also showcases the topic marker for names and other proper nouns. In Japanese there is only 1, は but Okinawan has 5! や, あー, えー, おー, のー! So, how do you know which to use? Well, there is a rule, typically the particle fuses with short vowels, a → aa, i → ee, u → oo, e → ee, o → oo, n → noo. Of course, the Okinawan pronoun 我ん, is a terrible example, because it is irregular, becoming 我んねー instead of  我んのー or 我んや. Yes. Like Japanese, there are numerous irregularities to pull your hair out over!

I hope that this has been interesting for those who have bothered to go through the entire thing. It is important to discuss these languages because most Ryukyuan languages are either ‘definitely’ or ‘critically’ endangered. Mostly due to Japanese assimilation policies from the Meiji period onward, and World War 2.
The people of Okinawa are a separate ethnic group, with their own culture, history, poems, songs, dances and languages. It would be a shame to lose something that helps to define a group of people like language does.

I may or may not look in the Kyūshū dialects of Japanese next time. I’unno, I just find them interesting.

what I found in you | 01

Originally posted by jkguks

jungkook x reader slight angst, smut

12,820 words

a/n: remember that time i posted a long list of fic ideas n stuff i was writing and this wasn’t on it? oops! this was originally gonna be a oneshot but things got way out of hand so, please forgive me for taking two months to write a 12K part one, i know i’m garbage. the next part will have a lot more angst so prepare yourselves, and once again thx @mysoftae this would never have come to fruition without you ;(

~ in which your ridiculously hot, annoying brat of a roommate keeps you up at all hours of the night, takes up all your space, is essentially trying to ruin your life, and is intent on sticking his dick in you


     You had always liked living alone.

     There were no one’s dishes to wash but your own, you could play your music as loud as you wanted, the only person you had to worry about your cat liking was yourself, nobody could complain about what spices you stunk up the place with, and most importantly, you never had to wear pants.

     You would have been content to live alone for the rest of your sad, lonely life enjoying nothing but those small pleasures.

     Then one day there was Jeon Jungkook, on his knees, hands clasped beneath his chin, looking up at you with those wide, glittering brown eyes of his. Maybe you would have said no if he hadn’t been blocking you up against the door to the library, if there hadn’t been a line of people building up behind him complaining about the two of you being in their way, if he actually would have moved when you grabbed his shoulder and tried to shove him to the side with all of your strength. That kid had been working out a little too much.

     Also, he was begging. That might have had something to do with it.

Keep reading

Uncle Gerry’s Family Fun Zone

by reddit user Red_Grin

This is a lengthy story but it is worth it:

I didn’t know Will could draw, I remember thinking as my friend’s hand quickly moved across the page. And then I looked more closely at Will’s impromptu sketch, and I immediately regretted it. I tried to unsee it. I shifted my attention to other things around me, anything at all that wasn’t ink on the page: the blur of Will’s hand, the beads of sweat gathering at his temples, the gentle autumn breeze creeping through the crack of the window.

Don’t look at the page. Just don’t look at it.

But I knew I had to. So I looked. And it was worse than I expected. Much worse.

Keep reading

some nights i’d feel so alone that the only comforting thing was the sky. so id learn a ton of constellations and go and sit outside and find every single one that i could and i would beg the sky to light me up inside because i was tired of burning out and i was desperately in need of some light and guidance. i painted planets on my walls and wrote down my favorite constellations. and on the very worst nights, when i felt like i was drowning underneath all of the blackness, i’d look at the moon and remember that someone, somewhere else was looking up at the sky, at that very moment, looking for the same thing as me. and at times, this is the most comforting thing.
—  you’re never alone. other people feel this way too.
The tea

idk where that post about casual magic is, but i wrote a little thing about it. 


Nursey walked out of the kitchen, hanging up his phone and slipping it into his back pocket. He was going crazy; he had about a million things to do and not very long to do them.

Nursey was at the haus during a strategic window of time time when Chowder, Ransom and Holster were all simultaneously in class for a few hours, minimizing intrusive noises and distractions. Nursey threw himself back on the couch with a huff. The only sounds to be heard were the furnace kicking on, Bitty’s occasional soft humming from the kitchen. Lardo was somewhere, probably in her bedroom. Dex was slouched on the couch opposite Nursey. His socked feet were propped on the coffee table in front of him, his elbow on the couch arm, head resting on his knuckles, reading a book. His sweater sleeves were pulled over his hands. It was cute.

Pulling his laptop toward him on the table, Nursey shifted his focus to his next task. He had two essays due tomorrow, only one of which was started. The one he hadn’t touched yet was a creative writing assignment. There was something repulsive about writing creatively when it was forced. He couldn’t make inspiration strike. The writing Nursey lived for was the writing when the premise came naturally, when he was compelled to write by the characters speaking in his mind and an itching in his fingertips. It was as if Nursey could imagine a cloud of words around his head, and all the right ones were in front of him, ready to be plucked out and put on the page.

The times Nursey had tried to start this assignment, it was nothing like that. It was as though he had to walk a mile to find each word. He’d done it before of course; he was an English major, and he had to write all the time, inspiration or no. He would just rather put off the assignment, leave more time for an idea to come to him.

Distractedly, Nursey opened a word document and took a sip of tea from the cup on the table. He wrote a sentence, then deleted it. He felt eyes on him. He turned.

Dex was staring at Nursey, his book closed around a finger to hold his place.

“Wuh,” Nursey asked.

“You were on the phone for like 40 minutes. How is that not cold?” Dex asked, nodding at the tea.

They both looked at the cup a moment, watching steam curl up from the liquid.

“I don’t know. It’s just a thing,” Nursey answered, shrugging. He typed something else into his computer. Closer, but something was still off.

“What kind of thing?”

“Like I can just –“ Nursey waved his hand at the mug. The steam followed his fingers.

“What does that even fucking mean, Nurse? What is this?” Dex mimicked Nursey’s hand movements, his shoulders practically touching his ears.

“I don’t know! But I’ve never had a cold cup of tea.”

“Ever?”

“Yeah. Never ever.”

“How?”

“I don’t know.”

Dex looked at him, an eyebrow raised. Nursey opened his eyes wide and pursed his lips, shaking his head minutely, looking exasperated. He was secretly happy for the excuse to put off writing.

“Wait here.” Dex got up. Nursey had no idea where Dex thought he would go. He waited there.

Dex came back with an ice cube. Without warning or ceremony, he dropped it into Nursey’s tea. Nursey took a sip. It was warm. He shrugged.

“What the fuck.”

“You don’t have anything like that?” Nursey asked Dex.

“Like what? Impossible?”

“You know. Like, improbable things that happen a lot to you? Like my mom is super terrible at taking care of plants, but she’s never had one die.”

“Um.”

“Or Ransom says that everyone in his labs has him focus their microscopes when they have trouble, because he never turns the knobs the wrong way.”

“When did you talk to Ransom about this?”

“I don’t know, man. Things come up. Or once Lardo told me she always looks at the clock when the minutes are a multiple of 10.”

“Huh.”

Nursey finished the tea, cracked the knuckles of his thumbs, and wrote a paragraph. Three sentences. This time, he only deleted half of the last one.

“I guess I’m good at finding things.”

Nursey stopped typing and looked at Dex.

“Like – “ Dex’s ears were pink. “I’ll forget where I put something, but then as soon as I start looking for it I remember where it is.”

“Yeah, man. It’s all probability, I think. You know, like it’s super probable that you’ll remember where something is, but then the probability of you remembering where everything is when you need it your entire life is super small. But just because it’s small doesn’t mean it can’t happen.”

“Huh,” Dex said, to himself this time. Then, louder, “Like the probability of us being friends.” He smirked.

Nursey smiled back at him. “No. That was inevitable.”

anonymous asked:

one thing you love about link and sidon? i love links dorky smile and i lovvvee sidons cat-like snoot!

oh heck. 

What’s not to love?! 

Also, are we talking in terms of canon or widely accepted headcanons in the fandom? And is this on individual terms or in their couple terms? Because I could go on for miles with each one. In fact, I think I will! 

Canon Link

- his cute little smile when he’s cooking and peering over the cooking pot

- his puns. His terrible puns. Is he sealious right now?

- how god damn sassy he is in general. (”I want to set things on fire!!”) (*casually goes up and tries to steal the thunderhelm and his excuse is that he wants it*)

- the fact that enough people comment on his nudity and that it was programmed into the game to suggest that Link would definitely do this more often if he could

- his cute little giggles when he’s bouncing on the water bed

- his lack of giving a fuck about gender norms 

- The very heavy implication that Link knows a shitload of languages, despite being mute

- Everyone either knowing what Link is saying based on his facial expressions or everyone in Hyrule just being fluent in Sign Language so Link can communicate easily

Fandom Link

- TWITCHY LITTLE EARS~~~~ <3 

- Selectively mute but still cusses the fuck out of monsters when he gets frustrated 

- (this goes in a different section but is still related: Sidon being so shook when he hears Link using bad words for the first time)

- The bad puns and Dad Jokes intensified 

- THE SASS INTENSIFIED

- Link being very musically inclined

- Like. No, here me out. He carves his own ocarina to take with him. The music you hear on the soundtrack is the music he wrote on his journey because that was one of the few things he did remember was his love of music

- Link filling his house with a shitload of refurbished instruments. Pianos, violins, you name it, he probably fixed it up and owns it now

- JUST GIVE ME MUSICAL LINK WHO USES SONG TO COMMUNICATE HIS LOVE FOR SIDON IT’S ALL I NEED

- Tbh I love everything about Link, Canon and Fandom. 

Canon Sidon

- The Fourth Wall Break

- His motivational speeches (we all need a smol Sidon to cheer us on, let’s be real here)

- The pride he takes for being unstoppable in the water

- Yet the fact that he still allows him to be vulnerable in the times that he misses his sister the most

- Also the fact that he doesn’t deny to Link that he was taking a moment to miss his sister if he gets caught

- That boopable snoot

- THE DORKY LITTLE MARCH HE HAS WHEN HE’S WALKING AROUND THE DOMAIN. HE LOOKS SO PROFESSIONAL AND STRONG. YOU GO SIDON. YOU GO BOIYO.

Fandom Sidon

- HIS TAIL WAGS

- LOOKIT THAT TAIL GO WHEN HE SEES LINK HE IS SO HAPPY

- Sidon making snorting and grunty noises like a cat or some other animal and it’s purely subconscious but it also immediately gives away his mood and it’s precious

- Related, but Sidon’s gills poofing out like a cat when he gets startled. I know that that can’t anatomically happen considering what little muscle in gills actually exists and how it’s supposed to move but STILL

- His pupils getting either really really big or really really small. You could say it’s a predatory response or he’s very excited to see Link again. You choose.

- I’ve seen this in some fic but idk how widely accepted it is but…Sidon being afraid of horses

- Related, this is entirely my own doing but I will go down with this headcanon: Sidon being a book worm. He’s read every single book in the royal library cover to cover. Link can’t keep resupplying him fast enough because he just plows through the story in one sitting. If there are languages within the books that are completely made up, Sidon teaches himself that language because he’s a fucking NERD

SidLink

- Sidon taught himself Sign Language at a very young age so he could talk to Link

- Sidon has been in love with Link since pre-Calamity, he just wasn’t aware

- Sidon is very traditional when it comes to courting. Link is very much not. 

- Everyone knowing that Link and Sidon are helplessly in love with each other except for them

- The first song Link composes after defeating Ganon is Sidon’s Song

- The first time Sidon visits Hateno, Link puts on a little concert for him. Sidon’s Song he saves for the finale

- L I N K I S B I G S P O O N 

- I don’t care that Sidon is twice his height, Link is and will do his damn best to be the best fucking big spoon there ever was

- Sidon fucking LOVES IT

- Sidon hugs are best hugs

- Link hugs kind of crush Sidon’s lungs a little bit

- Holy fuck Link is strong

- Link just casually bench presses Sidon when bored. Shark Prince swoons helplessly

- Link is the best cook. Sidon is fucking terrible. No amount of cooking lessons are helping Link’s poor shark bf. 

- They like to float down rivers and stuff together, but every. Single. Time. Link gets a wild hair up his ass to try to swim and out swim Sidon. And every. Single. time. Sidon has to save this dumbass because he runs out of stamina and nearly drowns. 

- Sidon can dish out compliments but he cannot take. Link loves watching Sidon’s face turn redder than the top of his head when complimented. 

The Show must go on

((Okay, so @doodledrawsthings got me interested in hell’s au, and then the subject of mortality came to be. Then @kitkat1003 wrote an amazing fic, and well… this happened)) . . . .

Dear Bendy,

I guess it wouldn’t have been long before Joey and I would kick the bucket. Who would have guessed 70 years in the studio would go by so quickly am I right?

Anyway, I guess this is just a bit of a sendoff before Joey and I take our dirt nap. If by some miracle by God you start getting a sick feeling in your stomache, excessive ink overflow, or wanting to lay in bed for all eternity and contemplate your existence, then just think of this as revenge for trying to drown me in ink on that Thursday those years ago.

So yes, surprise! People die for real here. It’s a damn slow, natural thing we do, a thing we can’t control. No one lasts forever in this world no matter how hard we try to make them last. So you’ll probably think, “Henry! You sicko! Why the hell are you so nonchalant about this?!” I won’t say anything or course, because you know, I’ll be dead.

And besides, you always said that I was a sort of moody guy. I guess you finally rubbed off on me after all these years.
But hey boss, chin up, here comes the better part. We may not last forever, but you, Boris, Alice, everyone else, you guys sure will.

Now you’re probably getting mad at Joey for making you this way right? Even I still think he’s insane for doing what he did, but after this experience I have realized some virtues in his work. Bendy, you’re a legacy. The people of this world know that one day they’re all going to die. Some like me and Joey accept it, but keep on hoping. But there are others who know it, but they’ve given up all hope. They forget how to laugh and enjoy their time here because they don’t see the point.

That’s where you and the gang come in. When Me and Joey drew you, we wanted to make you all into someone everyone would love. You’d make them laugh, cry, even get scared when you try to drown them in a flood of ink and suffering (I’m never letting this go, not over my dead body). Because what you do reminds them that despite it all, life can be fun.

Wipe that ink off your face bucko, you’re only halfway through the sentiment.

This is for Boris. In case you’re still wondering who’s a good boy, well, I’ve got the answer buddy. It was you all along.
Keep swinging that clarinet of yours like there’s no tomorrow, because you never know when someone’s gonna need some cheering up from a certain good boy. (It’s still you, you loveable pup) Don’t worry about us okay buddy? We’ll be fine. Just make sure Bendy doesn’t cause too much trouble alright?

Now for Alice, who knows, maybe you will end up as popular as Bendy some day (I said might Bendy, don’t get all huffy). In the meantime, keep those boys in line as much as you can. They need you more than they think they do. And remember to tell Boris to turn off the system after recording, no one likes hearing Wally singing “Dancin’ Queen” acapella.

And finally, we’d like to thank you all for bieng our crew. Thank you for the laughs, the pick-me-ups, the random dances, the naggy critics, even the times you tried to drown us in ink. But most importantly, thank you for bieng our legacy. You made our dreams come true, now go on and make everyone else’s do the same.

Goodbye, kiddo.

Your creators and friends,

Joey and Henry.

delicate-cherry  asked:

Dramione + angst + please don't kill Draco and Hermione 💜

pairing: draco malfoy x hermione granger

setting: modern, non-magical, high school au


Everyone finds out.

Everyone finds out they’re fucking, specifically, the Monday after prom, when half the senior class is still trying to wash glitter out of their hair and hide their Plan B receipts from their parents. Yearbooks are being passed around, skinny black Sharpies bleeding ink and ex’s and oh’s and the kind of burning, overwrought nostalgia Draco already wishes he had an eraser for.

It’s just a rumor until it isn’t.

It’s just a rumor until the iPad camera shutter snap echoes and echoes and echoes around the cavernous interior of the empty auditorium—and, oh, Draco will have to remember to laugh at that, later; getting caught, finally, on an actual fucking stage—when he doesn’t have her dressed pushed up and his boxers pushed down and the taste of her tart and sweet and wet on the tip of his tongue—

Everyone finds out.

Everyone.

That isn’t the real secret, though.


It wouldn’t be a big deal, if it was anyone else.

It wouldn’t be a big deal, if it wasn’t Hermione fucking Granger.


“What do you mean, that wasn’t the first time?” Potter’s voice cracks, slightly, on the last two words.

Draco smirks.  


Hermione wore a Yale sweatshirt to school the day she got her acceptance letter.

Navy blue and bright, bright white. Crewneck. Her jeans were tucked unevenly into the tops of her boots, and all Draco could think about was how much better she’d look in Dartmouth green. In Princeton orange.  

In nothing at all.


“After the shit he’s said?” Potter demands, sounding angry in a way that almost—almost—surprises Draco. Almost might as well be the story of his fucking life. “To you? About you? After the shit he’s done?

Hermione’s mouth snaps shut with an audible click. “Yes,” she says simply, before reaching for Draco’s hand.


Draco had gotten better, over the years, at pretending.

It was a learned behavior. A conditional response to a childhood spent digesting the morals of Disney movies and anti-bullying campaigns and half-hearted reprimands to be nice. To be better. Smiles could be faked. Compliments could be forced.  

Letters of recommendation, however—character references, long-winded tributes to his sportsmanship and his discipline and his superior time management skills—those couldn’t be.


“I’m in love with him,” Hermione says, and it’s a little bit surreal how deeply Draco understands her honesty. “People can surprise you, Harry, even when you don’t expect them to.” She hesitates, curling her fingers into Draco’s palm. “Especially when you don’t expect them to.”


“Looks like we’ll be at school together next year,” Draco remarked the Friday before spring break.  

Hermione’s lips parted. Pink and full and bare. “You—Malfoys go to Harvard.”

He shrugged. Her sheets were itchy against his shoulder blades, patchwork red and gold flannel warm with residual body heat. “You’re the only thing I don’t want to leave behind,” he said.


why this scene is so wonderful

I was looking for metas about this scene, but I couldn’t find anything, so decided to say several words myself.

Firstly, I made one gifset and captioned it as glare of death and people wrote that Bucky looks like he’s about to cry or has already cried. Tbh, I think it’s both. Great thing about this scene, to my mind, is not if he’s feeling anger or pain, but the fact that he’s definetely feeling something here!

As I remember, we only see two moments where Bucky is feeling something. First one is this:

Here, he’s angry af. Before this moment, we see hydra agents shooting wildly, but WS is calm, he casually walks and shoots for like two or three times only. But when Nat breaks his glasses(sorry, don’t know what they’re called), he becomes crazy and starts shooting without aiming properly. He feels anger and frustration.

Second one is a bit of confusion and hesitation:

(not my gif)

Throughout the whole movie, what catches our eyes is how calm ws is. He isn’t running, he never is in a hurry. Of course, he kills people, fights like an assassin, but he is always laid-back and really relaxed.

But in the final scenes, he acts like a crazy. WS’ actions are so brutal. Although he is sent to missions to kill people, I don’t think that winter soldier is allowed to make them personal. I mean that he must finish the missions succesfully, but he must know show his personal attitude towards it.

But here

He slaughters hydra/shield agents in a way that is screams to be really personal to me. He freaking shot that pilot and didn’t even care to throw away the body. He’s just to eager to get to Steve. Yes, it is his mission, but so was that causeway scene and his actions in these situations are so different from each other.

Considering all of these, I believe that in that scene he is not unemotional. WS is about to finish his missions, not only because hydra ordered him, but because Steve makes him feel things that causes him pain and confusion and uncertainity.

Is he angry? Yes. Is he ] eager to kill Steve in the most brutal way? Hell, yes. Is he also feeling pain? He IS! I think that he’s torn between too many emotions and that reflects in his eyes. They are deadly, but at the same time a bit red and look like he’s gonna cry.

To be sure I have to look once again at this moment:

He looks so childish and it feels like he’s suffering. But then:

See how he narrows his eyes for a second? Yes, he’s in misery, but that eye narrowing thing also tells me that WS is also furious and wants to visiously kill his oponent.

P.S. Please, add your thoughts ‘cause I’m so interested in the interpretation of this scene.

Black Consciousness presupposes self-love; self-love presupposes reflecting on being passed over in relationships

Note from BW of Brazil:

Well I must say that it is now getting interesting! What I’m speaking on is an increasing number of Afro-Brazilians, normally women, but increasingly men, who are questioning how romantic choices are made, what certain choices say about the black community as a whole and the effect on how Afro-Brazilians relate to each other. The issue goes far beyond the common question of how it seems some black men and women choose partners of another race and enters into the sphere of simply love, support and unity among black people. Is there a problem here or are people simply making a bigger deal out of this than is necessary? I ask this question as I am increasingly reading material online suggesting that there is a peaking fissure between black men and women in both Brazil and the United States. I’ve been thinking about this for many years and today I read a post by my friend Daniela whose shared a recent personal incident that touched on another angle of the lack of unity between black men and women.

Note cont.
 
Daniela is a black Brazilian woman but the incident took place in Austin, Texas, in the United States. Having grown up in the US, I can honestly say that just 10 years ago, most black men wouldn’t have sided with a white man over a black woman who felt offended by the actions of that white man. The incident has nothing to do with a romantic relationship but it does fit into the ongoing discussion because it approaches the issue of how black men see black women and begs some basic questions. Do we have each other’s backs? Are we in this together? Do we have any unity? Or are we slowly being conquered by a discourse that says “we’re all equal” in terms of race, color and solidarity? As I’ve argued before, Brazil has been there for years, but we are increasingly seeing this idea becoming stronger in the US. With that said written, I must again ask, in what direction are we going black people?

Black Consciousness presupposes self-love; self-love presupposes reflecting on being passed over in relationships


Among so many themes we could write together, and they’re not few, we decided to revisit a thorny subject. Every time a new text appears on the issue of the black woman’s affective loneliness, the black side of the internet goes into a rampage. Black men, in their vast majority, run to say that black women are also palmiteiras, or else to reinforce that they are not palmiteiros. Not to mention the discourse that love has no color. But if it does not, if the diagnosis that black women experience loneliness in a brutal way is a fallacy, how could Ana Clara Pacheco even write a doctoral thesis addressing this topic?

By Winnie Bueno and Caio César 


The social passing over of which black women are targets is not restricted to the labor market alone, they expand to all spheres of society, including in the affective sphere. We have already written about these issues relentlessly. But it’s little. The narratives about the deep feeling of loneliness among black women don’t diminish, on the contrary, it seems, although we are increasing our possibilities to recognize ourselves as subjects, distancing ourselves from the logic that Frantz Fanon explains in Pele Negra, Máscaras Brancas (Black Skin, White Masks) that approaches the connection of citizenship with the performances of whiteness on the part of the black population, even with the strengthening of the black racial identities, nevertheless, black women continue dealing with the feeling of insufficiency.

The idea of this text is to bring a hybrid approach, in which it is possible in a single writing to reflect on the consequences of affective loneliness for blackness in a broad way. It’s necessary to say that affective solitude is not restricted to the passing over of the black women in the affective relationships of the dating and marriage type. The socio-cultural aspect of this question goes beyond the private of the relationships. And that’s where we want to start this dialogue. 

I believe that addressing the subject of loneliness is speaking directly, also, to black men. Talking about how much these men can love and be loved. And understand that this passes, first, through loving oneself, your culture, your people. It goes through understanding imposed masculinity, the stigmas and the stereotypes. Every masculinity that the world imposes on men falls even more heavily on black men. The necessity of being strong, hard, rigid all the time. Not showing emotions, or weakness or feelings. And this reflects also in loving relationships. On how treatment is given between men and women, especially black women. Add to this the construction of the black man’s image as a threat by international society.

Homens negros (black men) are the image of the enemy, that that is regarded as a voracious, uncontrollable animal, which, if not controlled by the coercive force of the state, can at any moment unleash their natural violence (see note one). The idea that these men need to be isolated from society so that it is protected is the projection of a discourse that has such an ideological force that even blackness is conditioned to perpetuate these ideas. Therefore, the deconstruction of this ideology between us is fundamental. Branquitude (whiteness), the media, the white social structure will not do this, it maintains itself from these assumptions and draws power from them. Of them there is not much to expect, but among us, it is possible to potentiate these reflections, talk about them and reduce their impacts on our social relations. 

The solidão da mulher negra (solitude/loneliness of the black woman inevitably passes through the way men see themselves within society and within relationships. All the imposed roles, the social rules, everything, everything counts on how we act next to a woman. Bringing a racial perspective, I have always observed how romanticism didn’t belong to black men. This was like showing weakness, being less of a man. I remember liking to write letters, I remember the other boys saying that this was not a coisa de homem (man thing). It was as if this was denied to me, love was denied me. I remember hearing countless times that “homens negros não são românticos” (black men are not romantic) and things like that. And that is one of the most rigid molds in the male world. Romanticism, the romantic lyric, is absolutely European. It doesn’t match the patterns of bestiality that these same Western standards relegate to black masculinity.

Caio remembers the letters he liked to write. Winnie remembers the letters she would like to have received and never received. While the meninas brancas (white girls), back in high school, were getting pretty notes, Winnie helped the boys demonstrate their interests. She wrote in the letters that were sent to her colleagues, that which she would like to read. The discovery of sexual and affective interests in school age, the narratives of mulheres negras (black women) about their being passed over in this environment, shows that from an early age we have the construction of an image about black women that fixes their social roles in sexual-affective relations. As servants, to serve in domestic activities, to serve fetishized sexual desires, but never to build solid relationships, after all, they are bodies without minds, in the words of bell hooks.

This idea, of a mindless body, is what underlies a series of patterns about relationships. And it is also what constitutes the phenomenon of palmitagem, these men who are constantly described as threats imprint on their unconscious that the affection of a white woman consensually destroys this paradigm. We know, therefore, that not only does it not eliminate it, it strengthens the contexts that represent black women as bodies-objects whose affection is not necessary. After all, if not even their equals are able to bond with these women, how will others do it? 


When you add this to an imposed standard beauty, we may have the least notion of why black women are so abused. Black men taught that demonstrations of feeling are weaknesses; taught that relating to white women brings them a higher status in society, more value and respect among friends. Men, who for not seeing value in black women, deny themselves the demonstrations of feeling. Because loneliness is not only the absence of someone at your side, but also the devaluation of those who say they love us. It is also the one without the use of derogatory jokes, about hair, hips and moodiness. Homens negros que, ao odiarem mulheres negras, odeiam a si mesmos (black men who, hating black women, hate themselves). In this constant is that the social ascension of the black man connects itself with the choice of a white partner, even though of an inferior financial status. Obvious that this phenomenon in Brazil occurs in a mitigated way, the social ascent of black men is insignificant, it occurs almost exclusively from the same means. But to make invisible (the fact) that black men who achieve some social prestige, even if it is hypocritical, since whiteness does not recognize this prestige in a total way, whether in the midst of entertainment or in the academic world, give almost exclusive preference to relating to white women would be, at the least, dishonest.

The affectionate loneliness of the black woman expands. The permanent feeling of solitude is common for black women, to the point of being a constant. We know that we are meant for emotional solitude, yet we are at a time when strategies are being built among black women themselves to overcome the anguish of loneliness. Other forms of affection that are not based on these historical repetitions, but this is a conversation for another text.

The key here is to try, once again, insistently, to talk about the need for mutual recognition, for ways of achieving self-love between us and upon us. The full appreciation of your equal, the consolidation of forms of love that establish themselves from the possibility of affection by the feeling of affection, and only for that. An affection in which the appreciation of negritude is possible. Loving not for interest, not for being with someone who gives us, before society, a value that is empowering of our wills as subjects, of all of them. Love for love of ourselves. Love for self-love. 


Source: Medium.com / @winniebueno

Note: Examples of this stereotype are numerous in Brazil as well as on a global level. For examples in terms of representations in Brazil’s media 

via: blackwomenofbrazil.co/2017/01/30/black-consciousness-presupposes-self-love-self-love-presupposes-reflecting-on-being-passed-over-in-relationships

instead of completely shitting on alex for anything, remember who wrote lyrics that helped you through a hard time. remember who cares so deeply for you. remember who wants to do anything and everything to meet people more one on one based. yeah the new m&g style sucks but sometimes things gotta change to maintain income for new equipment and flights all over the world. i hate it too, but remember that alex is just a guy trying to have fun playing with his best friends while meeting people who love them

im tired anyway here’s some more time travel fic

Everything goes the way it does in the books, except that occasionally someone looks up and Neil isn’t there and the air smells a bit like burning, but then they blink and he’s right back in front of them. The Ravens switch divisions. Neil and the monsters go to Eden’s Twilight. Neil pays someone to knock him out. He hitchhikes back to Palmetto. He tells Andrew his half-truths and whole lies. They go on Kathy Ferdinand’s show. He fights Riko. Andrew offers Neil his protection.

It goes the same. Sometimes Neil travels in time and space, sometimes only in time. Usually to somewhere around Andrew, except he hates Andrew, so for the most part, Neil stays away, even when Andrew is an angry-looking kid, even when Andrew is a calm-looking adult.

Until one day, when he gets whisked into a bedroom in the middle of the night and the figure on the bed stirs.

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I’ll See You Tomorrow

(A/N: i played myself and I’ve also been listening to this for two days straight and honestly isn’t this just the mood for today)

Summary: Peter Parker has fallen for you so very hopelessly, emphasis on hopeless.  

Word Count: 3,158

Warnings: Minor cursing


Freshman Year

Both elevators open with a soft ding, the timing a little off. Peter Parker jumps at the echo, already halfway down the hall with the strap of his messenger bag tightly in his grip, eyebrows shot up as he looks behind him cautiously.

He sees someone rather familiar, with hunched shoulders and one foot out of the elevator doors. They’re frozen still, with wide eyes staring back at him, like he’s the one thing they’re most terrified of. Backpack hanging off one shoulder and mouth open, they look like they’re about to say something, but only a faint noise comes from their throat.

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Show Me Your Heart And I'll Show You Mine - Part 2

Parring: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Word: 655

Warnings: nope

Summary: Soulmate!Au, what you write on your skin shows up on your soulmates

A/N: I’ve had a shitty day, so i just wanted to write. Here ya go! tell me what you thought

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4

Originally posted by little--batman

The first time he did it, he sat in class. It was second grade, and they were watching a movie. He had been bored, and had started drawing on his arm. One flower after another bloomed on his arm, as he stuck his tongue a bit out of his mouth to concentrate better. Suddenly Bucky looked at his wrist, and his sharpie missed.

HI was messily written with a pink pen there. He looked back at his flower. He started rubbing his arm, hoping to erase the line he had drawn. His skin was slowly turning pink, and the line started to disappear. When he was done he took his sharpie, and wrote down: HI.

 

22/8

Bucky scribbled the date down on his hand, before turning his attention back to the teacher. He had always been bad at remembering dates, and he knew his teacher would kill him if he didn’t turn it in on time.

What’s happening there?

The blue letters caused Bucky to look down again and smile weakly. If there was one thing that always could bring a smile to his face, it was writing to you.

English paper due:(

He wrote on his arm. He waited half a second for an answer, before deciding against it, and write a few more words.

But at least I got you to talk to now

“Mr. Barners, what are you laughing at? “a voice asked, and Bucky quickly looked up.

“Nothing, I’m sorry professor” he answered, but smiled a bit anyway when he saw the: Haha.

 

He rolled his eyes with a sigh, and looked at his friend. Steve had just meet his soulmate, a girl named Peggy, but he was too nervous to be alone with her, so he had invited her to a friend night. This meant it was Steve, Peggy, Bucky, and their friend Natasha. Or, Natasha was supposed to be there, but she had bailed on them.

Bucky looked down at his arm, and almost laughed at the misshaped creature that had appeared.

What is that?

“Are you writing to your soulmate? “Peggy asked and broke the silence.

“yeah” He answered with a smile, and looked down to get an answer.

It’s an elephant! Can’t you see that?

Bucky looked at the drawing. He could kind of see it was supposed to be an animal, but to him it looked more like a giraffe. He started drawing on your “elephant”, and it ended up looking okay.

Fair enough

He laughed when he saw your words.

 

“Why am I the only one who doesn’t have a date? “Bucky asked as his friend were walking around in the kitchen.

“Because” Natasha said as she grabbed some plates. “That you don’t want to date any other than your soulmate, and you don’t know where she is”

“Why don’t you just invite her? “Peggy asked as she opened the fridge. “I mean, you can’t wait until you just see her on the street, you won’t know it’s her. It will be a good opportunity to meet her”

“Are you sure a wedding is a good idea to a first date? “He asked, and Peggy shrugged.

“It’s a good reason” she said as she took the salad to the table.

I’ve thought of something

“You didn’t think of it, we did” Natasha said as she sat down beside him.

“It doesn’t matter” he said as he watched your writing appear.

What?

“No writing at the table! “Peggy said as she and Steve sat down.

“I just have to invite her” Bucky answered without looking up.

I’m going to ask you something

Promise you won’t get mad?

“Why would she get mad? “Natasha asked as she leaned over to look at his arm.

“It’s a big step! I don’t know if she even wants to meet!” Bucky answered.

“We’re starting” Peggy said and took the meat. Bucky didn’t her this, because you had just answered.

Of course, what is it?

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@ifoundlove-x0vanessa0x @starwholocktrash @cassandras-musings @jeleners143 @miraisnotavailable @irunintospace

the one where impatience is a good thing

so remember when like a couple months ago, I got this wild hair up my ass and I was like “wow I’m going to write oneshots and imagines all the time, it’s going to be so great!!1!” and then I wrote only one. And stopped. Now that feeling is back so here’s another one :)

bff!Sami Zayn x Reader

“I’m your phone background? That’s so cute.”

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  1. Group new words together in your notes (according toparts of speech, the same pronunciation, the same topic area, etc).
  2. Think of relationships between what you already know and new things you learn (for me it is for instance hond-hund (nl-no) ).
  3. Visualize idioms or phrases in your mind, or draw them, to help remember. Try to see the spelling before your closed eyes.
  4. Make diagrams or semantic maps (word maps, webs of words) to arrange key words visually on paper.
  5. Remember a new foreign word by a crazy association with a known word (camarera = a Spanish waitress with a camera).
  6. Create rhymes to remember new words.
  7. Use (colored) flashcards to remember new English words (idea: one colour = one part of speech OR one colour = one language if you are learning more than 1 language at the same time)
  8. When trying to remember, physically act out new verbs.
  9. Say aloud or write new English words repeatedly [When I was a 4th grader I couldn’t remember ‘chicken’ word so I wrote this word 20 times. Not only I remember I did such thing but also when I close my eyes I see this piece of paper with 3 lines of chicken word – but this is only for hardcore learning I guess, can’t imagine learning every word like this ;) )
  10. Copy, rewrite new language items to practice writing.
  11. Imitate (shadow) recorded language to imitate a native speaker’s way of speaking.
  12. Try to use whole ready-made phrases fluently (Nice to see you too! What a shame!).
  13. With new structures,  try to make analogous (similar) sentences based on a model.
  14. Consciously try to use the words you know in different combinations to make new sentences.
  15. Start conversations in your target language whenever you are around a native speaker.
  16. Come to out-of-class language events (search for language club in your city maybe?).
  17. Get involved in any class activities that require writing or speaking spontaneously in the language you are learning (not working if you are a self-learner…).
  18. Use a monolingual dictionary
  19. Use other kinds of resources (a picture dictionary, a dictionary of collocations)
  20. Use thematic /vocabulary books for your own study.
  21. Look for words in your own language that are similar to new words in the language you are learning.
  22. Try to find patterns, regularities in grammar.
  23. Work out the meaning of a word by dividing it into parts (prefixes and suffixes) that you understand.
  24. Make comparisons between languages (e.g. German vs Spanish).
  25. Make notes / summaries of new information that you hear or read in your target language.
  26. Even when you are not terribly sure whether it is correct to say something in a given way, take risk to try!
  27. Understand unfamiliar words, make guesses from the linguistic context and clues (like this must be a negative word, this must be the name of an illness).
  28. To understand new and difficult language material, make guesses from the situation (in a film), pictures (in a magazine), gestures, tone of voice in a conversation, etc.
  29. When you are writing a new word in your notebook, also write a sentence where this word is used. Personally I was too lazy to do it but when I finally started it helped me a lot.
  30. Try out different ways of learning and revise, revise, revise…
I’m writing this for you to say goodbye, the goodbye we never really got because you said you couldn’t do it and in a way, goodbye never felt right for us. I always imagined we would stay friends. That one day you’d text me as if nothing had happened and maybe we’d meet for coffee and talk like we always had, two people with the same values in life.

I wish I could sit with you and talk about your love life and not feel an aching in my heart but of course, you can’t. I can’t.

I realize all of this. And I realized it again when I opened that box, the one where I kept all of the sentimental things I couldn’t throw away—every card, every photograph and every random note you or I left around the house. I sifted through them and remembered how much I did love you and how I honestly saw a future for us. The words you wrote warmed my heart and made me believe I was worth being loved. You did that. You made me believe I was worthy and even now, I cannot thank you enough for that.

But its time to let you go. And though you aren’t that person anymore — I hope you find the kind of love you deserve, the kind I was unable to give you. I hope you live all of those dreams you spoke so passionately of when our fingers danced together in each others palms.

I hope you don’t think of me, but I hope you know I’m so glad you were my first love. I’m so glad I got to spend those years with you and that love, that feeling of absolute euphoria. You will remain in the memory box, not touched by time or reality or the cruelness of the world.

Goodbye, old love. You can be free now.