I’ve been thinking a lot about how old I am in technology years lately so here’s a bit of reminiscing for you kids in the form of stuff you’ll thankfully never know the pain of
having to rewind cassette tapes. you want to hear your favourite song again? no just clicking <<. nope, you gotta manually rewind that shit and keep hitting play to see if you’re at the beginning again.
like listening to your own music in the car? back in my day we had to bring a bag full of CDs and swap them out in our portable CD players. if the car went over a bump, the CD would jump in the player and the music would skip. eventually the CDs would get wrecked. I killed so many CDs thanks to all the moving around I did as a kid.
stifling the dialup tone when your parents were in bed. want to sneak online? good luck. I had the modem squeezed between my legs, with two pillows pressed on top of it, and still. crrrrrRRRSSSHHHHHHHHHHH
fucking. homepage wars. hacking was a lot easier back in the day thanks to no one knowing shit about security and nerds like my generation quickly learning more than the web developers did. this resulted in carnage if you owned your own webpage. it was commonplace for different groups to have wars and constantly hack each other’s pages and deface them. you could trust no one. you leave for five seconds and suddenly your state of the art homepage and all its lit wordart graphics has been replaced with a plain text message insinuating something about your mother.
an entire room in your house was dedicated to the computer. it was called the computer room. it was filled with wires you were constantly tripping over, and thanks to the fact you were on a desktop, there was no battery life. you better get used to tripping over your power cord or rolling back in your chair and ripping it out of the wall, therefore instantly shutting off your computer, because it’s going to happen multiple times a week my guy.
“get off the internet, I need to use the phone” “how long will you be?” “only a couple of minutes” *two hours later*
I’m pretty sure it was messenger that had this, but basically if someone ignored your message for too long you could send them graphics that would hijack their entire browser and pop up on the screen. they were huge and would sometimes make the screen shake and I heard rumours that some of them could even make noise.
this is one that’s near and dear to me because I spent like 60% of my childhood in a car but handheld game consoles didn’t have built in lights. I remember playing Pokemon on my big purple GameBoy as it got dark, holding the screen closer and closer to my face, and eventually having to resort to quickly jamming the buttons when we passed under a streetlight. I remember when the GameBoy Advance SP came out with a built in back light and I lost my fucking mind.
*is two seconds away from finally downloading a picture online that’s been downloading for 15 minutes* *someone picks up the phone downstairs* *internet disconnects* *download fails* *why must you hurt me in this way*
writing everything you wanted to say online in the raw html code because it didn’t do it automatically. fine if you just wanted to make things bold or underlined, a lot more annoying when you wanted to add an image or bullet points or something. no such thing as a quick rant.
this is really long already so I’ll stop here but long story short it was a dark time and you all should grab every technological advancement you can with both hands and never let them go. for the sake of my childhood self, nose-to-screen with a GameBoy. do not let them go.
Every year the Russian Team does a bar crawl. It’s a tradition now. They all have T-shirts that have Yakov’s face on the front (Above the word Фелстман bolded and underlined) and, on the back, a skater’s name in large bolded font below an alphabetized list of every skater Yakov’s ever had in much smaller text. They get new T-shirts every time someone new is added to the roster, so usually every year or two.
They change the T-shirts to include Yuuri, and also to change Viktor’s name to his married name. Yuuri has no idea that this is even a thing until he walks into the rink one morning to see Yuri skating around with a pile of bright purple T-shirts in his arms.
“Yo, Katsudon,” Yuri mutters when he gets to him, flipping through shirts distractedly. He’s almost a normal person this early in the morning, before the vitriol has settled into his bones for the day. “So your stupid husband didn’t tell us what size you are, but you wear his clothes all the time anyway and since you have the same last name it was just less complicated to order two of the same size. Here.” He drops them so quickly that Yuuri almost overbalances to catch them. He’s halfway across the rink by the time Yuuri straightens back up, making his way towards one of the Juniors who Yuuri thinks might be named Katya.
“Ooh, the shirts came in,” Viktor says happily when he catches up. He takes one and holds it up to the light. The picture of Yakov on the front is…not exactly flattering. “Wow! They look even better than last year! Purple is a much better color than green.”
“What am I looking at?” Yuuri demands, staring dumbfounded at his own T-shirt.
“Yakov, of course,” Viktor says happily. He flips the shirt around. Yuuri startles at the giant, bold
Кацуки-Никифоров on the back. Viktor scans the smaller text (Which is, weirdly enough, in the shape of a skating boot) and says, “Ah, here you are.” Yuuri leans over.
“Yeah, that’s…definitely my name,” Yuuri says, brows furrowing. Юрий Кацуки-Никифоров. It is, of course, right next to Виктор Кацуки-Никифоров. He’s familiar enough with the other skaters’ names to realize that the small text is Yakov’s roster. “Um, why though?”
“I’m not sure!” Viktor says happily. “I came here after it started! I’ll go put these in our lockers. Start warming up please, Kitten!”
Viktor skates away. Yakov’s face seems to wink at him, over and over again, from where Viktor is clutching the shirts by his hip.
“After WHAT started?” Yuuri demands to the room at large. Nobody answers him.
Viktor eventually does explain what they are for, the afternoon before the bar crawl itself. He also shows Yuuri the dozen past bar crawl shirts he owns. The passage of time is indicated by the growing shirt sizes and Yakov’s hairline. Yakov had almost a full head of hair when Viktor first joined the roster.
“Does Yakov know about this?” Yuuri mutters, staring at the shirts in awe.
“Oh, I’m sure he does,” Viktor says. “Lilia makes the shirt orders for us. It’s the only reason she’s not on the shirt too, honestly.”
Every single day, Yuuri is more and more amazed that Yakov Feltsman has not taken to the Siberian wilderness to live in seclusion and blessed silence.
The most questionable thing Jasper did this episode was think that Clarke put her name on that list herself like my dude it was written in completely different handwriting and all caps and probably underlined and bolded and shit because Bellamy frickin Blake has absolutely zero chill ever.
If this world was softer, what would you be? You are beautiful and terrible And in this soft world I see, you only have to be one of those things. You can be beautiful and capable of being terrible, Without ever needing to be.
[One half full bottle and one full bottle
on the table.]
If this world was softer, what would I be? It’s possible I was always destined to be a drunk cynic And that I would find a fault in this soft world as well. Or I could be capable of being more, Maybe soft is something I can be.
[One empty bottle and one full bottle on the table.]
If this world was softer, what would we be? I mean, what would we be? Would you finally see me, when I am more than an alcoholic annoyance? If I am capable of being more than a drunk cynic, I mean. Would I still see you, when you have no reason to burn brightly?
[One empty bottle and one half empty bottle on the table.]
If this world was softer, what would you be? It’s possible you were destined to be a radiant flame And that you were always meant to burn up. Or, maybe, you would never ignite. What are you, when you are not angry?
[Two empty bottles on the table.]
If this world was softer, what would I be? I have found a fault in this soft world. It is a truly terrible thing: I cannot see you. You are all I have ever believed in and in this soft world I cannot see you. What am I, when you are not angry?
[One empty bottle on the table and one broken bottle on the floor.]
If this world was softer, what would we be? I would be a drunk cynic, poorer than I am now because I cannot see you. You would be beautiful and soft, but you will want to be angry. I need you to be angry, because until you are There will be no we.
I saw the Enjoltaire week prompts for Wednesday (soft) and Thursday (alternate universe) and this happened. Les Misérables fanworks part 3/?
Summary: After an explosive fight with your parents, you turn to your friends, but they’re too involved with another mystery to notice your pain. You leave the school, never to be seen again.
A/N: yay, angst. This wasn’t requested but feel free to request one :)
Pairing: reader x no friends, parents, core four (+ Cheryl and Kevin)
Warnings: Fighting, swearing, mention of suicide
The moon peaked through the curtains in the kitchen and streams of light made rays, reflecting off of the marble floors and countertop. Dirty dishes were scattered lightly across the counter and the sink was empty, with soap bubble residue near the drain. Droplets of water were falling from the faucet, hitting the sink at the same time the clock ticked in the living room. But you couldn’t hear that, or notice the beauty in an ordinary setting, because screaming took place in your eardrums instead. You sat on the old couch in your living room, with both your mom and dad standing in front of the television. The TV was muted, but a movie you’d vaguely remembered seeing was playing. It was more intriguing than the scene playing before you. Your dad was visibly red, the veins in his forehead popping out. Your mom was fuming and she had streams of tears pouring down her cheeks. A piece of paper was in your trembling hands and it was a pale blue and gold color. Your name lined the top corner and underneath had REPORT CARD printed crisply, bolded and underlined.
“We told you to study, we commanded you to stay away from your friends! They are a distraction to you and your work! Don’t you want to be the best? You are not a B student in this house, under this roof! Even an A is unacceptable! We think you need to leave your friend be, you’re much better without them. Maybe then you’re grades can get better.”
Your mom paced the room, her hands clenched into tight fists, shaking in the air. Your dad took a seat in the chair near the door, and it creaked as he sat. You looked back at the sheet. All A-’s and the one B in chemistry. Good grades and scholarships were all they cared about, and they expected the very best. But this was your best.
You looked back at your mom and she stomped to get in your face. She grabbed your cheeks in her hand, your face squished together and lips puckered painfully.
“You are a disgrace to us all.”
She said the words calmy and annunciated, putting emphasis on all the right words, which stabbed your heart in all the wrong ways. Her hands ripped the sheet from your palms, giving them paper cuts as it slipped between your fingers. Your dad stood from the chair, made harsh eye contact, shook his head and walked towards the staircase. Your mom followed in heat, crumpling the paper and throwing it on the tan carpet.
The words played like a scratched record in your mind, and the tears fled your eyes at the same speed the seconds passed from the clock.
You walked into school with red washed eyes and a hair thrown messily into a bun. A sweater Jughead gave you one night was a blanket for your torso and you felt comforted, the most you did all weekend. You called, texted, even tried to visit everyone, but you never got an answer. Betty, Archie, Jughead, and fuck, even Cheryl.
You turned the corner of the hallway, books clutched tightly to your chest like a lifevest and you saw the five standing around a table. Kevin walked into the room with another paper and threw it onto the table. They mumbled amongst each other, not acknowledging your presence.
Your voice was quiet and broke halfway through. They turned around to wave but turned back forward. The backpack straining you fell to the floor and you set your books next to it. You shuffled quietly to where they were, and once again, it was a new mystery overtaking the town.
“What’s all this about?”
Jughead looked up at you and scoffed.
“If you’d read the paper, you’d know.”
You knew it was sarcasm, but it hurt your already damaged heart. It hurt more when everyone else let out a breathy laugh, Cheryl and Kevin’s carried farther and louder. They talked, making plans to meet up, without even turning to you. They slowly dispersed, Betty collected the papers and walked out of the room. It was only you, in a quiet room, left in your thoughts.
You are a disgrace to us all.
You heard the words again, but it played over and over, in everyone’s voice with an intensity, until your feet took you outside the school and dragged you down the snowy sidewalk.
Veronica was the first to notice your lack of presence. They all sat in Pop’s, talking about what happened that day and how they solved this week’s adventure. She looked up from her double chocolate shake and looked around the table.
“What’s going through your head, princess?”
Archie squeezed her shoulder and looked at her with confusion.
“When’s the last time we spoke to (Y/N)?”
Everyone stopped their own side conversations and looked down at the table, wracking their minds for an answer.
“I think Monday.”
Jughead looked up from his burger and met eyes with Cheryl, who was nodding. Betty slightly raised an eyebrow and looked at everyone sitting.
“I didn’t see her in the other classes we had. She typically was the first person to be in chemistry.”
As it sank into everyone’s mind, Mrs. Lodge came to the front of the booth. Her eyes were glossed over and she held the town newspaper in her hands.
“I’m so sorry everyone, I know it’s probably so hard for all of you with (Y/N).”
Jughead jerked up in his seat, and everyone gave her a look of shock.
“Mom, what happened?”
Mrs. Lodge let a tear slip from her eye and she placed the newspaper in the middle of the table. Archie slipped his arm from Veronica’s shoulder and read the title of the article aloud.
“Local Riverdale teen found dead in Drive-In, later revealed to be suicide by town’s star student (Y/N)-”
Archie couldn’t finish reading the article without choking up. He slammed the paper down and covered his face. Everyone in the booth slowly started letting out choked sobs, except for Jughead and Cheryl. They sat numbly, losing somebody else in their life they didn’t know they needed until now.
When Mary read John’s journal she found something odd in a certain page. The title written on the page was bolded and underline: WATCH THEM. Mary raised her eyebrow in confusion. Watch who? She straightened the crumbled page and began to read the entries.
April 13, 1994 (Sam 11, Dean 15)
I told Sam to stop sleeping with Dean, but the boy was so damn stubborn. I kept catching Sam holding onto Dean the next morning. It caught me by surprise with their closeness but I let it slide because Sam was close with his older brother. Still had to scold him for disobeying me, though.
October 26, 1995 (Sam 12, Dean 16)
Sam started to rebel against me, and I couldn’t have that. I didn’t do this for him to hate him. I just wanted Sam to understand that we weren’t safe, nowhere was safe for us. I just wanted my sons to be okay. Dean would always intervene when we began to argue. However, I have noticed something, Sam never yelled at Dean, instead he would cross his arms and sulk.
I didn’t like this one damn bit.
May 19, 1996 (Sam 13, Dean 17)
Dean went out tonight with a random girl. I allowed him since he’s a teenager and he needed to have a break from being stuck in a motel. I drank a couple of beers and watched t.v. since I couldn’t leave Sam alone. Not only that, but Sam had been angry all night and even snapped at me. I didn’t understand him sometimes. Lately, Sam has been moody and acting childish, I was beginning to think if it was Dean’s fault for spoiling him too much.
Dean returned from his date. I witnessed Sam running up to his brother and hugged him. Something churned in my stomach upon seeing them embrace each other. I had to drink a couple of more beers that night in order to forget what I just saw.
February 3, 1997 (Sam 14, Dean 18)
Today I saw Dean whispering to Sam in his ear and watched him turn bright red. I immediately separated them and demanded to know what Dean said. Sam responded with ‘he told me that his girlfriend’s younger sister has a crush on me, sir’. I laughed and shook my head. I was beginning to think that I was loosing my mind. I was seeing things that weren’t even there.
Later that day I told them no more sparring, having their bodies pressed with one another was something I couldn’t have them doing. It’s too risky.
September 14, 1998 (Sam 15, Dean 19)
Dean and I were hunting a siren in a small town, I left Sam behind since it was too dangerous. Dean accidentally fell for the siren’s trance, prompting me to kill the son of a bitch, but before I could Dean suddenly attacked me and tried to protect the siren as he shouted out, 'Don’t hurt Sam’! My eyes had widened in horror… Siren’s ability was to impersonate a loved one, someone you deeply desired. When Dean said Sam’s name… I nearly lost it.
June 22, 1999 (Sam 16, Dean 20)
I kept an eye on both of them from now on. Never once letting them out of my sight. I took Dean with me on every hunt now, Sam was old enough to be alone either way. I couldn’t tell my oldest son anything, he had no clue that I knew the truth. I’m not fully sure if there was anything even between them, but I needed to be more cautious. Sam’s mood had also rose, he had shouted at me and even threw my journal across the room. A part of me knew that Sam was angry because he was tired of the hunting life, but the other part of me knew was because he couldn’t see Dean anymore.
December 5, 2000 (Sam 17, Dean 21)
The first time I saw hickeys on Dean’s neck, I just knew it was not from a random girl. Not when Sam also had similar ones around his neck. No matter how hard I tried… both of them would sneak around. I started to wonder if it was somehow my fault. I never blamed Dean, maybe I should have, it seemed easier that way. Yet, it wouldn’t be fair. I left them alone a long time. Everything was all my fault and I couldn’t do a damn thing to stop it.
August 27, 2001 (Sam 18, Dean 22)
Sam left us. I told him to never come back once he stepped out. I couldn’t believe I told my son those harsh words. What kind of father was I? I went to the bar and drank so much alcohol that I passed out in the impala. Dean was no better. He was furious and wanted nothing more than to hunt all the monsters out there. Dean never once talked about Sam. It was just us now. Maybe it was better this way. Although, I knew Dean had his heart broken for the very first time.
March 16, 2002 (Sam 19, Dean 23)
I got after Dean today for being reckless. He almost could have gotten himself killed by the werewolf. What was he thinking? Then, I found him drunk in a bar, flirting with the bartender. Enough was enough. I dragged his ass out of the bar and drove back to the motel. What broke my heart was that he kept calling out for Sammy… I should’ve been disgusted by it, I knew Dean wasn’t saying it in a platonic way. But when he started to cry and say 'I miss you, Sammy. Why did you leave me? I thought you loved me’. I just couldn’t bring myself to get after Dean, or say anything at all. He was already suffering as it was.
Once finished, Mary began to cry as she read each entry again, she covered her mouth with her hand. Did her boys really love each other? She had never seen them act lovingly, no more than brothers. But if they fooled John for the first couple of years… Who was to say they wouldn’t do the same thing to Mary?
Please fire me. My coworker types the first letter Capitalized if she wants to emphasize it. I tried to explain bold, italic, and underlines and she thinks that customers won’t understand that she is trying to emphasize those words.
Ariel, sprite of all of sprites, lies on a bat’s back, quite at ease with this rarely used mode of travel in an illustration of a line from the Tempest. It appears in an 1870 edition of Shakespeare’s plays and this week, Tumblr made it the most popular new post on Nemfrog. I’ve found that I can productively seek out illustrations from Shakespeare because so many editions of his work exist that many versions of the same scene or line can be found and compared. I’ll be doing more of this and we’ll see what it yields.
This might look like a straightforward, almost hyperrealist drawing of reflected moonlight but there’s more to it. The illustration comes from a novelty book called The Motograph moving picture book which in the days before plastic came with a transparent piece of talc. The viewer, or in this case really, the player, moves the transparent block slowly back and forth over images in the book to animate them. Here, I imagine, the waves break, the light sparkles. Even without the device, the image became the second most popular new post on Nemfrog this week. If ever there was a gif waiting to be made…
This week Nemfrog visitors learned that snakes do not milk cows. Close followers will not have been surprised by the news because I published this post in early summer. But who can get enough of the bird hypnotized by snake and snake leaping out of the cactus at the stunned boy, used to illustrate examples of what snakes do not do? We can’t, and a news surge of clicks made this one of the most reblogged on Nemfrog this week.
Close followers may also have noticed that I’ve returned to a book I first posted months ago. I find the simple illustrations by Bunji Tagawa full of charm, precision and humor. They show how much didactic illustration can do the job of teaching while pleasing those who encounter it.
In other news. The donate button has been taken down from the page, mostly because it’s not possible to make it work on the mobile version and it clutters the page design while conveying a confusing message. The fund drive ended a couple of weeks ago but I still welcome your support. If you want to sponsor what I do here in a small (or big) way and you use PayPal, the email address email@example.com will get your gift to me.
I enjoy the long descriptions that people have of their Tumblrs. Genders, psychological status, clashing or focused interests, careers and obsessions - it’s all very welcome and interesting. But I went for a minimal approach. At first my description just said, “Nemfrog.” So when you found me you saw Nemfrog described as Nemfrog. I was conveying a succinct message of mystery.
After a while I wrote a playful description: “1911′s Blogger of the Year.” This was a joke, of course, but one that underlined my interest in decades long gone. I don’t think a lot of people noticed that every now and then I would change the date. “1953′s Blogger of the Year.” “I898′s Blogger of the Year.” If nothing else, it looks good on my resumé.
This week I changed the description twice. Watch out, it may happen again.
Anyway, that’s my story. Have a great week!
Please, if you want to reblog any of these images separately, do it by reposting it from the links I’ve provided. The links are bolded and underlined to make it easy.
Well, it wouldn’t be a cdrama without a couple that is DOOMED. In capital letters, bold, underlined and italics.
Because let me get this straight - the Universe is LITERALLY against them getting together? OMFG you have got to be kidding me!
My heart breaks for both of them, but especially Feng Jiu because at least Dijun got to make a choice (even if was millennia ago and without knowing how he’s going to be tried by it later.) FJ is presented with a fait accompli.
Also, I get that the Star Lord thought he was doing Feng Jiu a kindness, showing her that it wasn’t that Dijun didn’t care for her, but dude, how is she supposed to get over Dijun now when she knows that he wants to be with her but can’t without universe doing something horrific to them both!
Also, let me get that straight - back when he was pacifying the realms, in order to be effective, he removed his name from that rock that records fated pairings for all immortals so as not to be vulnerable to his enemies so he can’t be with ANYONE? That majorly sucks. I mean, good for the world, bad for him.
But now that she knows that (and the fact that he went to the mortal realm not to experience a trial but because that was the only way he could be with her. And even that little bit of defiance of fate made him lose all his powers for a couple of years as a warning), how is she gonna get over him?! Argh! She’s gonna carry a torch forever which sucks!
History is one of my favorite subjects, from my Ancient World History class to APUSH to my AP European History class, I’ve found the material fascinating. However, it is a course that can be difficult, particularly if you don’t enjoy reading assignments. Here are some tips!
Keep up with textbook readings. They can be tedious, but keeping up with readings also allows you to participate more effectively in class discussions, especially if your teacher reviews the content from the previous night’s reading in class.
Decide on one platform for note taking. This allows you to keep them organized and easily accessible. I prefer to take mine on Google Drive, with a new document for each chapter and a separate folder for essays, in-class activities, etc.
Time yourself for a set amount of pages (say, 10 pages) and see how long it takes you. It takes me approximately 50 minutes to read and take notes on 10 pages, and I can use that information to plan out my studying.
Divide and conquer. You don’t have to do 15 pages in one sitting. I like to take pictures of a few pages of the textbook on my iPad so when I have some downtime, I can do a few pages of reading.
Take notes on your readings. Simply reading and/or highlighting is ineffective - notes will help you retain information, and give you something to refer back to.
Hand-writing your notes helps you remember better, but it’s more time consuming. Ultimately, I type my notes because it’s easier for me to organize and access.
Try your hardest not to copy what the textbook says. Instead, summarize ideas in your own words so you know what they mean.
Bold/italicize/underline important people, dates, and legislation, so you can find them quickly. [For example, 1900: Sigmund Freud publishes The Interpretation of Dreams about the importance of dreams and subconscious thought to an individual’s psychological makeup, might be a bullet point]
Participate in class, and communicate with classmates/teachers.
Sit close to the board, or in what my teacher calls the “T-zone” - the column of seats in the middle and the last row or two - which is where the teacher’s eyes tend to look at, so there’s a greater chance of you being called on
Take notes on what’s being lectured. They don’t have to be neat or pretty, but sometimes teachers will comment on ideas that will appear on the test, etc, and it’s important to write those down.
Get the phone number of a classmate or two (ideally a responsible one!) in case you miss class so they can send you the notes and some updates.
Start studying early, and study effectively.
It is very difficult to cram successfully for a history exam. Whenever possible, I schedule 3-4 days to study for an exam, more if it’s a particularly long one.
Find yourself a good review book. Two recommendations I have are the AMSCO for APUSH or the McGraw-Hill AP Achiever for AP Euro. These will boil down the chapter to main events, ideas, and trends.
Don’t get bogged down in details. Especially for AP courses, general political, artistic, and cultural trends will be the most important. Make connections between earlier units.
I like to make graphic organizers for important ideas for each country in the unit, and then to fill them out by memory to see if I remember everything.
For me, the most important thing is that I know the textbook content, especially since my teacher bases most of her questions off of it, which is something many teachers do.
Pay attention to important clues when taking tests.
Circle dates, names, and locations in the prompt - anything that can give you more context about the question. Look at the clothing and setting to get a better idea of context in visual prompts (paintings, etc).
When analyzing primary source, keep in mind the time and author. What were their biases? Who was the audience?
Try to find trends in questions. Sometimes teachers prefer a certain type of question, or like to trick you up by changing one thing (they might not even realize this). Finding these patterns will make your test taking easier.
Be careful when reading the question. Sometimes they ask for which one was not true, or to select the true statement from a list of false ones. Don’t get confused!
Do not change your answers on a whim. Really, if you’ve studied, you’re more likely to be right the first time around.
If you’re allowed to see your test after you receive your grade, go and identify the questions you got wrong. This lets you see areas of weakness (are you bad at primary source analysis? Is there something you’re consistently getting wrong?). See if you can retrace your thought process when answering it and explain it to your teacher so he/she can explain where you went wrong. Who knows, you might even get partial credit back!