Because I’ve seen a lot of people ask how to start learning Korean:

The place you need to start is learning hangul. This is actually easier than you think. There are only, like, 24 hangul letters. A lot of teachers will get overly complicated explaining how hangul letters piece together, and they make it sound really difficult, but you can ignore that crap. Just memorize what sound goes with each letter, and you’re fine. I’ll get you started.

Each little block is a syllable.

Yoon Bum: 윤 범

ㅇ at the beginning of a syllable is an empty placeholder. (At the end of a syllable, it’s a “ng” sound.)

ㅠ is “yoo”

ㄴ is “n”

ㅂ is “b”

ㅓ is…well, it’s usually pronounced like the o in “bomb,” but here it’s more of an “uh” sound. I was confused by this at first. 

ㅁ is “m”

Oh Sangwoo: 오 상우

ㅇ is an empty placeholder

ㅗ is “oh”

ㅅ is “s”

ㅏ is “ah” (rhymes with “saw” or “law”)

ㅇ at the end of a syllable is “ng”

ㅇ placeholder 

ㅜ is “oo” (I don’t know why they put a “w” here)

There. Now you know, like, a third of hangul. 

Let me count the ways.
  1. a girl repeating English nine gave an unsolicited “You’re a really good teacher” after I finished explaining the traits of a Shakespearean sonnet;  
  2. a boy who is all about farming actually let me talk him into writing a sonnet about it – I got him started, but I looked over ten minutes later to clear concentration and fingers counting syllables and choosing rhymes;
  3. a girl who gives up too easy tried to not – kept saying it’s too hard it’s too hard – until suddenly it wasn’t and instead it was read this read this;
  4. a boy who normally sleeps his way through class (if he comes at all) wrote a perfectly crafted love sonnet that was so sweet you could cry.

anonymous asked:

write 2 trans best friends coming out to each other! it can be whoever you want; otabek and yuri, or phichit and yuuri, or anyone whose friendship you like! Either one character is out and the other one isn't, or they're both closeted and its a moment of "im trans" "me too!" (bonus if you have them diff. genders and they end up helping each other with stuff like lending clothes)

Alright here you go, genderfluid Yuuri and trans guy Phichit:

“Yuuuurrriii,” Phichit stretched the two syllables as far as he could. “We should do something fun tonight.”

“Phailin-chan, get your feet off my poster,” Yuuri said in response.

Phichit winced slightly at the name but said nothing, he was used to hearing it. “I am comfortable.” He was lying on Yuuri’s bed with his feet up against the wall and his head dangling over the edge while Yuuri sat at his desk.

“You could do this in your own room you know, you don’t have to ruin my poster,” Yuuri commented.

“Yes but you don’t have a roommate, I do,” Phichit said. “And I don’t think you’ll be at a loss if one of your precious Victor Nikiforov posters gets a little crumpled.”

“There was an uneven number of males when the dorms were assigned,” Yuuri shrugged. “Otherwise I would have a roommate too. And no, there were only 1000 prints made of that one,” he pointed at the poster Phichit’s feet were almost resting on. “It’s special.”

“You think Victor is prettier than me, don’t you?” Phichit pouted. “I’m sorry I’m not good enough for you Yuuri, I’ll leave so you never have to see my ugly face again.”

Yuuri laughed and turned to face him. “You’re the second prettiest girl I know Phailin-chan, don’t be jealous,” he teased. “I thought you were trying to convince me to do something fun.”

Phichit sighed at the compliment, he wanted to correct Yuuri but he never did. “Yes, you need to get out more. Let’s go to a party.”

“Not this again,” Yuuri groaned. “Haven’t you taken me to enough of those, why don’t we doing something more subdued. We could go grocery shopping,” he suggested.

“Absolutely not,” Phichit shook his head. “That does not count as fun.”

“We could make Thai food,” Yuuri smiled hopefully.

“Not happening,” Phichit said. “I already picked a party out, I was invited by someone in my photography class. It’s somewhat fancy and there will be a dance floor, show of your moves man!”

“Fine,” Yuuri relented. He almost always did though Phichit never forced him when he could tell it was something that would make him super uncomfortable.

“Yay!” Phichit swung himself into an upright position and grinned. “It’ll be so much fun.”

Yuuri seemed much less enthusiastic than he was. “You always say that, but as long as this doesn’t result in a hamster, a child, or pole dancing then fine.”

“I’m gonna have to dress you up for this, you can’t go looking like that,” Phichit trotted over to Yuuri’s closet and gestured at the exercise clothes Yuuri was wearing.

“I happen to be comfortable like this,” Yuuri said.

“Nope, not happening,” Phichit shook his head and pulled open the closet, quickly narrowing down what was acceptable. He eyed some of the garments with longing and sighed, Yuuri might not have the greatest sense of style but he had some nice clothes. “You need something fancier. What do you want to wear?”

“This,” Yuuri deadpanned. “It’s what I want to wear,” he glanced down. “It’s not like I can wear what I’d prefer today so this,” he muttered under his breath.

“Well what would you prefer to wear,” Phichit turned to him with his arms crossed over his chest. “You can tell me.”

Yuuri looked nervous, granted he always did to some extent, but this was more than his typical look. “Er, well,” he scratched the back of his neck, still staring at the floor. His expression was the one he wore every time he had something important to say.

Phichit walked over to Yuuri and knelt down to be in his line of sight. “If there’s anything you want to tell me you can,” he said.

Yuuri seemed to think about that for a minute. “You’re going to think I’m so weird Phailin-chan,” he covered his face with his hands.

“I won’t judge you,” Phichit promised. “You can tell me.”

Yuuri slowly uncovered his face. “I’m a girl today, yesterday I was boy, somedays I’m neither, somedays I’m both,” Yuuri refused to meet Phichit’s gaze. “I told you it’s weird. But I’m a girl today, so I’d like to wear a dress but it doesn’t matter because I don’t have one.”

Phichit’s eyes widened and he smiled to himself. “You’re genderfluid!” He was happy to hear that. “Should I change the pronouns I use for you?”

Yuuri seemed surprised by the question. “That would be kind of you Phailin-chan. I would prefer you use they when you aren’t sure. Today I would like you to use she,” she bowed.

“Of course Yuuri!” Phichit hugged her. “You’re the prettiest girl I know. I bet I have a dress that will fit you, there’s this sundress in blue that doesn’t fit me too well, you can have it.”

“Thank you so much,” Yuuri smiled. “I’m sure it looks better on you though, you’re much prettier than me,” she looked away again.

Phichit took a deep breath, if Yuuri could say it then he could too. “Actually no. I’m not prettier than you and I’m not the second prettiest girl you know,” he said.

“Of course you are,” Yuuri said. “You’re very pretty.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Phichit raked his hand through his hair. It was a lot harder to say than he thought. “I don’t think it’s weird that you’re genderfluid because um…” he trailed off. Normally he didn’t struggle with words but this was hard to say. “I’m a boy,” he finally got the words out.

“Another reason we get along so well,” Yuuri smiled at him. “I guess we both had something to admit. Is there something you would like me to call you?”

“He pronouns,” Phichit said. “And my name is Phichit not Phailin, please don’t use that anymore.”

“Okay Phichit-kun,” Yuuri repeated the name. Phichit grinned at hearing someone else use it other than himself. “Looks like you’ll be needing to borrow something of mine for tonight, we can have a little trade.”

“You’re the best Yuuri,” Phichit hugged her again. “Seriously the best. I’ll go grab you that dress and then we can try stuff on together.”

Yuuri agreed and Phichit ran back to his room quickly, grabbing a few dresses out of his closet before returning. When he got back he found that Yuuri had pulled out some clothes from her closet as well. “Here you go,” Phichit held out the dresses.

Yuuri’s face lit up as she looked at them. “I love these colors,” she smiled.

“I know,” Phichit grinned right back.

“I’m a bit taller than you, so I’m not sure how well all of this will fit you, but these all seemed like something you would wear,” she offered him the pile of clothes she had selected.

“I’m sure it will be fine,” he said. “And this just means a shopping trip is in order.”

Yuuri nodded and the two of them went about changing into the clothes laid out before them, a feat that was no longer awkward after years of changing in front of others during competitions.

Phichit pulled on a pair of nice jeans that were a little large on him but would fit with a belt, he topped it off with a sweater that gave him a bit of a professor vibe. Yuuri changed into the blue sundress and it looked great on her.

“You know what Yuuri?” Phichit threw an arm around her shoulder once they were both dressed. “I think we’re pretty darn cute.”

“You know what Phichit?” Yuuri echoed his tone. “You’re the second prettiest boy in the world.”

like honey

the way syllables sometimes
stick to the roof of your mouth
then slowly trickle down
like honey

where thoughts once flowed
on the page like driftwood
floating downstream
pages soaked
in what used to be

writing poetry is like
trying to open
a jar of honey
tightly sealed
contracting muscles
involuntarily this
is what it’s like
to write poetry in
sticky honey that
has now spread
like the letters of a crossword,
a puddle of syllables
glistening by my feet
collecting shards
of what
used to

- s.d.t // 3.24.17

I was searching for tranquility in the mountains of east and the dunes of west.

Amidst the wings touching the horizon and the hues that sifted at dawn like water colors.

Under the cloak of darkness and the starstudded sky.

In smiles of strangers and twinkle within their eyes.

In syllables woven into sentences, warmth of words, the aroma of caffeine cascading within.

In pictures I clicked and moments I savored over.

My heart tried and tried, got tired and gave up in the end.Gave up finding
that peace the world bragged about.

With eyes brimmed with tear and a tongue that wanted to scream but was muffled,a heart that was suppressed by the boulder of this world, I tasted that tranquility when my forehead touched theground and my Lord lifted that boulder heaving me down.

I was at peace.

leenaland  asked:

Just wanted to say that I love your headcanons and everything that you write about Janet King and our darling Bianca ❤️

AW, thank you so much lovely! I should be the one thanking you though, you helped make this super super long hiatus bearable ❤️❤️  Here have some more Bianca, actual sunshine, light of my life: 

- She doesn’t drink wine, hates champagne, thinks she might have to steel herself for it at their wedding - a small do, their kids, their friends. But Janet puts two bottles of beer on the table in front of them for the toast (here you go, wife) as she sidles into her seat, grins when Bianca grins, grins when she kisses her. 

- She likes to watch the news every night.

- She’s not a morning person, can barely form syllables before coffee, will sit in bed and cradle a mug, stare blindly at the newspaper, grumble against Janet’s bedwarm skin when she shuffles a hand through her mess of hair, tells her to shake a leg, sweetheart. 

- She hates exercise, hates it the entire time she’s doing it.

- She adopts the twins two years after she moves in with Janet.

hearts were made to be broken / credence barebone

Originally posted by gravesfrommacusa

request ; Can you do a credence imagine were him and reader get into a fight?

a/n ; this is so late we suck but kiera and i just watched beauty and the beast and the graphics killed me rip ,,,,, also should we just write our imagines in all lowercase ?? it’s totally not because i’m lazy for some reason lowercase looks q aesthetic to me wowow / also do yall like this new format i’m trying oooo

lowercase + capital format intended (this is just a trial to see if people like it !!)

YOUR WORDS HAD HURT MORE than the wounds left on his body by his dearest mother ever did. each syllable had felt like a dozen bullets embedding themselves into his body one after the other; the pain had seeped into every inch of his body agonisingly slowly - poison crawling through his veins like a plague.

wasn’t it funny how the one person who had brought him so much joy was also the one person who had caused him the most harm?

credence didn’t mean for this to happen.

he just wanted you to stop, stop doing that awful thing that you did with that wooden stick of yours because it frightened him; it was evil - pure work of the devil, his mother had told him - and he didn’t know what to do.

it was beautiful - it was, it truly was - but weren’t the most dangerous things supposed to be the most enticing?

but then it was you, and you were the best thing that had ever happened to credence, and he loved you so much and he just didn’t want you to get hurt.

he knew what it felt like to be hurt and you didn’t deserve to be hurt.

not with your kind eyes and soft words and golden heart; you were an ethereal tragedy, just like him, but you deserved so much better.

you didn’t understand.

you couldn’t.


why was credence trying to make you suppress who you were when you had been there for him when he was raw and broken and pulled him into your arms without a second’s hesitation?

you didn’t know what to think or what to do or what to say, and aren’t we the most aggressive when we are helpless?

your walls had came up, your eyes growing hard as your knuckles turned a ghostly white, fingers trembling, breaths shallow.

you weren’t sure when you had started shouting, or when you had started crying, or when the throbbing pain in your heart had began because all your mind had registered was CHAOSCHAOSCHAOS and only one word had echoed through your mind.


(a/n ; rlly killing the mood here but DASI RUNRUNRUN NAN MEOMCHUL SUGA EOBSEO)

you were a coward, and you ran.

the cold winter air stung and made you feel numb from the tips of your fingers to the curve of your cheeks but you continued running through the streets of new york, legs burning and heart racing as you felt the pain beginning to ebb away into hollow emptiness.

so this was what heartbreak felt like.

a/n ;  shitty ending by a shitty person

by roxanna

masterlist | request something !!

@lazycasserole @myrtus-amongst-the-stars

greyhairsowhat  asked:

OH MY GOD YOUR OLDER BOKURO IS SO, UGH, I DON'T KNOW. I JUST LOVE THE WAY YOU DREW THEM WITH THE BABY. SO, IT'S TIME FOR SOME QUESTIONS: 1.Is it a girl or a boy? 2.Do you have any headcanons for the baby? 3.How would Bokuto and Kuroo be with their kids?

But that’s literally all I have to give you, this seriously wasn’t supposed to be more than just that one drawing haha

How To Be In Love With A Masterpiece:

When they ask you about art, try to resist spelling her name out and laying every detail of hers down, resist telling them that she’s the embodiment of a map of everything you think is worthwhile.

Listen to the sound of her laughter and let it be the only musical masterpiece you want in your ears,
let the way your name sounds like coming from in-between her lips be the only background music of your day.
Let the way your name sounds like in her mouth be the only symphony you want played on your bad days, and the only melody you need to dance to on the good ones.
Let her voice hug your broken pieces into full bricks and build yourself into a building that only knows how to be a home to her.
Speak her into syllables, appreciate the way her hand on your arms could calm the thunderstorm panic attacks you get at the thought of losing her.
Tell people that she is poetry, that she’s a poem you can never find the last line to because each detail is an ending and a beginning and you don’t want anything but to be lost in between all of that, that you don’t mind spend hours trying to decipher her beauty into words.
Turn her into colors;
she’s the crimson red flowing through your veins,
the black jacket you find most warmth in on the not-so-warm nights,
the violet lipstick shade that makes your head spin.
When people ask you about her, tell them that when she’s troubled, the sky clouds up into a grey you wish you could stretch your arms far enough to brighten it up.
Tell them that when she walks into a coffee shop, she brings in a little more light with her.
Tell them that coffee tastes better when you drink it listening to her ranting about things that matter to her, that the way her eyes glint at her favorite songs is the sugar to your coffee.
Tell them that she’s a patternless pattern of all the beautiful things you ever had seen projected in front of you, having you smile, having you live just a little more.
Talk about her the way you talk about your favorite movie. Scratch that. Talk about her the way you would talk about a movie you can never be sure you completely understand, one that’s so brilliant you wouldn’t mind watching over and over again just to find out its meaning.
Talk about her like a painting that changes with each angle you look at it from.
Talk about her like the endless piece of art she is,
like paint refusing to remain in its bottle so it overflows and explodes out of it.
Talk about her the way she deserves to be spoken about;
a self-made masterpiece.

—  itscolorpoetry 

my pals on the lancecord asked me for some tips on cuban spanish so i thought i’d share them here too for all you lance writers. i’m a cuban voltron fan who doesnt want to live in fear of bad spanish in nearly every damn fic and im trying to be the change i want to see in the world. so feel free to message me if you have any questions about lance’s culture bc this is nowhere near being comprehensive at all.

lets get into the stuff google translate can’t teach u!

i don’t know anyone under the age of 60 who says “dios mio.” lance definitely would not, unless he is doing an impression of his abuela.

things that sound more natural than dios mio: ave maria, ay dios, por dios, AY POR DIOS

more commonly we exclaim “coño!” for anything. shock/anger/awe/etc. if the reaction is negative, it’s just coño. if the reaction is positive, we drop the first syllable and draw it out like “‘ñoooooo”

we exclaim “pinga!” or “cojone!” or “pinga cojone!” as a negative reaction more commonly than any translations of omg too

“de madre” is something we usually exclaim as a negative reaction. it can be yelled or sighed or grumbled. usually has a frustrated or incredulous connotation

“wepa!” is a sound we make as a positive exclamation.

we say “‘ueno” like the verbal embodiment of ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ (it’s bueno with the b dropped)

other things that sound really stiff for cubans to say is like, “hola, como estas?” i mean, you say it to people you’re not on a casual level with. to friends/family these sound more natural:

“que bola asere” is how we greet our close friends

“que bola” or “que vuelta” is how we say hey

“oye” is hey! but not as a greeting, as an exclamation. something you would say before a greeting or on its own when surprised/offended/trying to get someone’s attention/etc

common insults: cabron/cabrona, mojon, comepinga, comemierda

common pet names for anyone: flaco, nena, mojon, mi socio, corazon

“asere” is our word for “bro” that no other country uses (1000% what lance calls hunk)

we also have a tendency to call our family members by their relation+their name, such as “my Tio Jimmy called” or “Abuela Carmen is making food.” i think this is when we have big ol families and just saying tio or abuela isnt specific enough

also this isnt spanish but i s2g so many bilingual cubans i know use the word “fire” almost constantly to describe something awesome. so i think thats a small cultural thing that communicates lance is cuban without having him speak spanish. (ex. “omg that’s fire” “hunk makes fire tacos” “pidge is fire at fixing stuff” “can you play that fire song?”)

now here’s a bunch of stuff that’s just my opinion

  • I think it’s most in character for Lance to drop Spanish words only one or two at a time into English phrases, since that’s how he uses it in canon (“Hasta la later, Keith!”). A couple of quick examples off the top of my head -
    • tremendo/tremenda - an adjective for huge. “You’re being tremendo sore loser, but okay.”
    • todito/todo - means everything. you can use them one after the other for extra drama. “I forgot todito, todo, about calculus immediately after passing it.”
    • These sound like really natural ways to drop Spanish into conversation without being forced if you keep it to a minimum. I aint here to tell u how to write your lance but i beg you - Please show restraint and don’t try to use all of these tips at the same time!!
  • I recommend following latin internet personalities (like jaxxgarcia or mr. red) to pick up their Spanglish phrasing if you’re really into that. please don’t try to make up your own. it’s never as cute as you thought.
  • if you’re writing full on spanish for more than a word or two, please do not ever make Lance speak it “accidentally” (or even worse, on purpose) to someone he knows doesn’t understand the language. that’s really rude and alienating and it’s so against lance’s character to isolate himself from others like that when he speaks fluent english. 
  • other times Lance can toss a spanish word in without sounding forced is if he’s namedropping cuban things! Try looking up some of our 
    • food (ropa vieja, pan con lechon, arroz con leche)
    • drinks (materva, iron beer, malta), 
    • films (juan of the dead, azucar amarga)
    • or music (celia cruz, marc anthony, juanes*) and have lance mention them by their spanish name if the topic comes up. 
      • *not all of these musicians are cuban, but they’re some of the most popular amongst us. i’m simply naming artists i think lance is most likely to enjoy considering his age and personality.
  • speaking of music, we have very specific dance styles that are pretty cool and almost mandatory to learn at a young age. cubans in general love to party, and to host large family gatherings which easily morph into parties, and basically any social event seems awkward if there’s no one dancing at any point. 
  • what I’m trying to say is Lance definitely knows salsa or merengue moves.
  • I don’t love to party and I’m not a good dancer and I don’t like dancing, but I know salsa anyway because I had to be in the environment my whole life. always exceptions, but the majority of cubans grow up knowing how to dance and it looks more or less like this:

and one last opinion for the road:

Voltron takes place in the future, so I like to dream of Lance being born in a world where Cuba’s free from communism. If you’re doing a Voltron AU that takes place nowadays, please don’t write about Lance’s experience in Cuba if you aren’t familiar with what it’s like to live under a regime like that. It’s very bleak and textbooks don’t cover half of the fucked up things that those who live there actually have to go through.

Lance could have been born in Cuba, but raised somewhere else. Miami would be my recommendation because it’s our second homeland and it means he would have been raised surrounded by Cuban culture without the governmental oppression. But Cubans are absolutely everywhere, so it’s equally believable that Lance’s family could have immigrated to Pawnee, Indiana. Even in Voltron canon, I think it’s likely Lance moved to America at a young age because he clearly has a native fluency in English.