remember that one time i wrote a thing

soundtrack to disaster

[ao3]

They only kiss when they’re drunk.


Trini’s never really had friends before.

Sure she’s had people she talks to in class, and she remembers having a couple of friends when she was in elementary school, but she hasn’t had friends like these before.

She’s never had friends who want to actually spend time with her outside of what they’re obligated to.

That why it’s a surprise when Jason sends a group text round one Friday afternoon.

Jason [1:32pm]: my parents are out of town and i’ve got vodka. wanna come round?

Trini’s phone buzzes once, then twice, then three times, as the rest of the group respond with varying degrees of excitement, and varying amounts of emojis. Trini’s the last one to reply.

Trini [1:44pm]: sure, why not

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anonymous asked:

jasmine, he bottoms twice hskjsb sorry (thank you for reminding me of it, now i'm reading some parts, is so good)

i only wrote three scenes.. only one time.. what.. i don’t remember a gotdam 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.

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.”

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

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.

Keep reading

SHEFF: Paul had more musical training than you did, right?

JOHN: Yeah, his father was a jazz musician. When I met him he could play guitar, trumpet, and piano. Doesn’t mean to say he has a greater talent, but his musical education was better. I could only play the mouth organ and two chords on a guitar when we met. I tuned the guitar like a banjo. I’d learned guitar from my mother, who only knew how to play banjo, so my guitar only had five strings on it. Paul taught me how to play the guitar proper—but I had to learn the chords left-handed, because Paul is left-handed. So I learned them upside down and I’d go home and reverse them. I can still play upside down, with the high strings on top. That’s what I was doing the day we met—playing on stage with a group, playing a five-string guitar like a banjo, when he was brought around from the audience to meet me. In the Hunter Davies biography of the Beatles, there’s a photo of the day we met. (Pause) You see, I told you I have a good memory.

SHEFF: But you didn’t compose your stuff separately, as other accounts have said?

JOHN: No, no, no. I said that, but I was lying. [Laughs.] By the time I said that, we were so sick of this idea of writing and singing together, especially me, that I started this thing about, “We never wrote together, we were never in the same room.” Which wasn’t true. We wrote a lot of stuff together, one-on-one, eyeball to eyeball. Like in “I Want To Hold Your Hand”, I remember when we got the chord that made the song. We were in Jane Asher’s house, downstairs in the cellar playing on the piano at the same time. And we had, “Oh you-u-u… got that something…” And Paul hits this chord and I turn to him and say, “That’s it!” I said, “Do that again!” In those days, we really used to absolutely write like that—both playing into each other’s nose. We spent hours and hours and hours… We wrote in the back of vans together. We wrote “She Loves You” in a van on the way to Newcastle. And “From Me To You”.

—  John Lennon, interview w/ David Sheff for Playboy. (September, 1980)
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.”

Keep reading

Warning(s): Swearing
Author’s note: This was a prompt that had to do with finding love letters. I can’t seem to find it, so I’m unable to give credit to the prompt creator. I’m sorry. (Also I’m sorry this is short I promise I’ve got a long one coming out soon.)
________________________________
You found the letters hidden in Sebastian’s desk drawer. You honestly hadn’t meant to find them, you were looking for a pen so you could write a grocery list down, but in the left top drawer, sitting in a neat pile was a stack of papers. You probably wouldn’t have paid a bit of attention to them had your name not caught your eye on one of them. You looked around the room and bit your lip deciding if you should read them or not. You really didn’t even mean to, but you picked up one of the squares of stationary and noticed another one right underneath it that looked almost identical this happened over and over again until you no longer saw the decretive stationary, only the dark wood of the desk. You gathered the stack in your hand and sat down in the large padded chair and decided that you would just read the first one. It was only a couple lines, what’s the harm?

Dear (Y/N),
We had our first date yesterday. You looked like a piece of artwork. You always do.

It cut off there and you let out a little laugh. The handwriting was clearly that of Sebastian’s. You could picture him sitting at his desk writing it and cringing at his own work before shoving it into the top drawer of his desk to never be seen again. The next pad of stationary beckoned you.

Dear (Y/N),
I’m not a photographer but I can picture you and I together.

That one was crumpled. You moved to the next one.

Dear (Y/N),
I heard that writing letters is more romantic than texts so here I am. I don’t know enough words to possibly convey how much you mean to but I’m going to try and this is the stupidest letter I’ve ever written in my fucking life.

You kept reading them.

Dear (Y/N),
I didn’t even spell your name correctly in this one. Something is telling me that I should start writing these in pencil.

Dear (Y/N),
I was wrong this looks stupid in pencil.

Deer (Y/N),
I wrote the wrong dear in this one. I hate myself.

You could almost hear him as if he was reading these to you. The picture of him now hunched over his desk with a hand on his forehead trying to formulate the words to say was ever present in your mind as you read on.

Dear (Y/N),
It’s the day after our first date. This should’ve been the day I was mailing this to you, but alas, I am an idiot who never plans ahead.

A big glob of dried black ink punctuated the end of that one. You could picture his frustrated groan as the words flowed just wrote but the aesthetic of the white stationary was ruined. Another piece of the ruined paper was stuck to the back of it.

Dear (Y/N),
You know what, I think I’m just going to buy you a card. I don’t know what I’ll say in it, but I guess I’ll figure it out.

He did buy you a card. You remembered it, it was packed away somewhere as you had yet to totally unpack all your things from the move. It was the first time someone had ever bought you a card to thank you for going out on a date with them. It was a pink gradient color with some cheesy thank you joke written on it and you remembered knowing he was for sure “The One” the day that he slipped it into your hand. You smiled at the memory and carefully placed the letters back into their drawer, making sure to neatly fold them as they were when you’d found them. You were still smiling as you left the room.

  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.

ayo beez and beauties, your local nerd beezy aka belle is back again!!! its been a while since i did something like this and since my blog’s first anniversary was last month and i reached my goal i thought it would be a great moment to do this. since starting this blog there were dramas and downs but also a lot of ups and i met so many great people. even if we don’t talk much or haven’t talked in ages i want to tell you i still love and care. i want to thank all of my mutuals for sticking with me, y’all are awesome even if we’ve never talked before bc im too shy or awkward.

(sorry in advance if this fucks up you notifications)

so yes, here’s my mutual appreciation post! let the post begin:

Keep reading

Remember that time I had a semi good idea about a Sanvers high school AU and was like ‘pls someone write it i am not good enough and also i am lazy’ and then someone actually wrote it and it was one of the best things i’ve ever read in my whole life anyway u should read i would move mountains to make you smile because it will give u life i’ve read it five times now and i think if i read it a bit more my anxiety will be cured and i will have happiness in my life

ANYWAY HERE’S THE FIC

PLEASE LOVE IT AS I LOVE IT

THANK YOU AGAIN @change-the-rules

The last time I remember seeing him, my knuckles were bloody. It was one of those days where the sky itself seemed to be wounded—all bruised and purpled with rain. He was smiling gently, light reaching down from between the swollen clouds as if to pluck him from where he stood.
— 

M.O - excerpt from a book i’ll never write but that dont mean i aint tryin to write this shit doggamn it