were all the same

conspicuous

synopsis: a very frustated reader is failing her korean class while an equally flustered seungcheol is struggling in english o(^▽^)o

genre: fluff!

word count: 4,088 ٩(•́⌄•́๑)

It was not easy being an exchange student in Korea; you never claimed it was. Whatever possessed you to move from your home country to the world’s peak nation of academic competitiveness you couldn’t remember, but it was too late to turn back. You were the only non-Korean you knew of in the entire school– perhaps every other foreigner had given up– so the standards were never lowered. You were to march to the same drum as all the Korean students, and at times, that drum was far too harsh.

Take Calculus for example. Back home, the finding and properties of derivatives and integrals of functions wasn’t exactly easy, but it was possible. Your teacher was always willing to help individual students and, most importantly, everyone spoke English. But as you sat in the back of your Korean Calculus class (yes, the very back: you showed up to class your first day and the only open desk was a lonely slab of wood beneath a cruel air vent), you might as well have been asleep. The teacher stood behind his podium like an imposing statue, lecturing nonstop, and only said “Any questions?” just before the bell rang each day. Fearful of your next teacher, you scurried out despite being dazed and horribly confused. Each afternoon of yours was spent in that same classroom in tutoring, which arguably still didn’t help.

You promised your calculus teacher you would come, as he was so concerned about your grades that he had made it a requirement or else you would be pulled from the class. “I promise I can do it, I’m just a little behind everyone else, the Korean students, I mean… as you already know,” you sputtered. He chuckled every time.

But what was much more interesting than the droning of your teacher was his student aide: Choi Seungcheol. He sat in the very front during third period each day and paced the aisles between the desks during afternoon tutoring sessions. The faint scent of cotton and traces of cologne followed him past you, and you noticed yourself gripping your pencil a little tighter. “Ms. Y/N, are you still with us?” Your teacher would call, not stopping his chalk or tearing his vision from the board.

“Of course, sir,” you would stutter. Not once did you notice Seungcheol’s amused smirk behind you.

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How Cor Leonis Fell in Love (SFW)
  • Cor originally met his future s/o outside of the palace. They approached him with a question: were all of the spires the same height, or were there taller and smaller ones? 
  • Cor took a moment to knit his brow and consider the question. Very few people spoke to him outside of the Crownsguard and Royal Family, and he couldn’t remember the last time a civilian had approached him. 
  • Well, not exactly– there had been the occasional one-night-stand. Given his job, there were usually long periods between those… activities. It had been a while since he’d blown off steam. He did have needs, and on principle he didn’t address them with anyone connected to his profession. So there had been that. 
  • He realized he had just spent a full minute glaring at this (very attractive) person in total silence and they were looking up at him curiously. 
  • Clearing his throat, Cor confessed he did not know anything about the construction of the castle. He was awkwardly gripping the hilt of his sword, becoming more uncomfortable by the minute, until the person smiles at him and says it’s fine. 
  • They confess that they were trying to work up the courage to tell him they liked his eyes. 
  • Cor is blindsided in the truest sense of the word. 
  • Was that flirting? Had to be. But it was said… so kindly. So guilelessly. 
  • Thank the Gods he is not a blusher, or he would be red to his ears. He rubs the back of his neck. 
  • They smile again and wave goodbye, and turn to leave.
  • Before he really knows what he’s doing or why, Cor restarts the conversation. He tells them that while he doesn’t know about the spires, he can show them where to find more information. They walk together to the tourist kiosks and he helps them locate a useful brochure. 
  • They end up talking most of the way, and while Cor is expected elsewhere, he can’t bring himself to leave abruptly. He ends up asking them out for drinks. 
  • From there, they become easy friends. Cor is able to unwind in their presence, as hard as that usually is for him. They have a way of pulling him out of his head and making him smile. 
  • They talk every day and see each other every few weeks to catch up. Strictly platonic (despite Gladiolus’ teasing). 
  • When Insomnia falls, his heart twists inside him, and his first thoughts are of them. 
  • They had only just moved to the city– they were just beginning to learn it. What if… 
  • That thought is agony. Cor flinches visibly. 
  • He calls them and there is no answer. He calls again and again, between coordinating the refugees and trying to help the Prince, but he never hears their voice. 
  • Cor’s chest is cold when he goes to the Prairie Outpost to meet Prince Noctis and his group. He feels like he hasn’t smiled in years. 
  • And there they are. Smudged in dust with new pink scars, they arrive at the outpost. Cor stares at them, whatever he was doing forgotten, and when they hug him he only freezes for a moment before wrapping his arms around them. 
  • Their phone was crushed when their apartment building started crumbling. They had been searching for him for weeks, traveling from outpost to outpost, absolutely frantic for news. 
  • Cor is not a stupid man. He has figured out his feelings by this point (given his desperation and hopelessness when he couldn’t reach them) and takes them aside. 
  • Chewing his lower lip furiously, Cor admits he is deeply in love with them. When they return his feelings, Cor pulls them in close to him and moves in for a kiss, locking eyes for a moment to make sure they don’t mind. When they ask him for the kiss, Cor finally lets himself go. 
  • They spend the night in the caravan. If they want to, Cor will consummate the relationship. Otherwise, all he wants is to hold them tightly and forget the terror of nearly losing them. 

Dante HC on Crying.

When Dante cries he is absolutely silent. The experience is long, agonizing, and incredibly lonely.

Its not a matter of why he cries, but when. The tears come rarely but when they do it is in the late hours of the night. When exhaustion settles in his bones and it is too much for him to bear the weight of his sadness.

The tears come slow then steadfast as the night wears on, and from that point it feels like morning will never come.

Why should it?, he thinks, he does not deserve the time that was given to him and the mornings he wakes without his mother and his brother.

He tries to think of his friends and his new family but is reminded that they were all brought together by the same sick twisted fate. A fate that stems from Sparda and the mess that Dante was left to pick up on his own.

No matter how many times Lady, Trish, and Nero assure Dante that none of it is his fault. He can’t accept that. How can he when he is always alone in the end?

Dante has so much time and soon there will be no one left to share it with.

Okay, so I can’t help but notice that Stan’s glasses are animated differently in this episode than they have been in the past.

Previously, the frames were the same thickness all the way around, pretty consistently, for the entire first season.

It’s inconsistent in season 2, but noticeably different.

Why is this important? Because that top-frame bar was how I distinguished the glasses of Stan and the ones I’m assuming belong to Stanford. 

I still think the two glasses are worn by two different people, and I’m still expecting the “STNLYMBL” license plate to be important. The Stanley-impersonating-Stanford theory remains the most plausible to me at present.


Except.

I’m no longer at all sure who is in this picture. The thick top frame led me to believe it was “Stanford”, but if that’s not a dead giveaway anymore, the rest of the shape of the glasses strongly suggests “Stanley”, to the point that now I’m comfortable saying it actually is “Stanley”. Especially since he’s wearing the fez. The problem is Bill, who knows Lots Of Things, identifies “Stanley” with the name Stanford. 

So I’m going to run down the things I know for sure. Stan is not what he seems, and there’s a person out there with six fingers who looks just like him, has slightly different glasses, once lived at the Shack, who wrote the journals and then vanished three decades prior. 

One of these two is named Stanford, and Stanford is the one who owned the building originally. Stan is assumed to be Stanford by the townsfolk and by Bill. 

The other is probably named Stanley, and Stanley was the original owner of the horribly old car. 

The laptop, if it belonged to either of them, was Stanford’s. His name is the only one with an F in it, and “Ford” is a reasonable shortening for Stanford if your brother already goes by Stan, I suppose. I still think it’s more likely that it belongs to someone else, but it’s definitely not Stanley’s.

So maybe Stan is actually Stanford, and Stanley was the author? Maybe Stan just drives Stanley’s old car and never bothered to get the license tag changed? 

At this point it could go one of many different directions, but I feel like I need to update you all when my preferred theory changes, so for right now I’m going with Grunkle Stan being Stanford, and the mystery author being Stanley. Bill’s memory was the primary reason I had assumed it was the other way around, and now that I’m reinterpreting Bill, I have to reinterpret the things I based off of him.

anonymous asked:

how are people attacking you for being 40+?

I’m not 40 yet.. still got a number of years before I reach that awesome age. 

I was making a stand in solidarity for my friends who are in their 30s/40s/50s/60s and who enjoy interacting positively on social media for things they are passionate about and also for being amazing wonderful and sweet human beings. Yet they are getting attacked and mocked for existing and joining the fandom. I mean, like what gives? Really tho, what the fuck? Let ppl be, let them enjoy what they enjoy and they’re aren’t disturbing or hurting anyone. I like seeing ppl happy doing things they love no matter the age.

I hate this idea that social media/fandom are only for such and such generation. Or for a certain group of ppl who were there long before everyone else jumped on the bandwagon. So what if they were? Nobody owns the fandom.  We’re all playing in the same sandbox that is in GRRM’s backyard. He owns all of these because he wrote them in the first place. Gatekeeping or policing is perhaps only for antis and trolls who seek to destroy and spread hate and animosity within the fandom. Not for keen new members who only seek to belong. Plus, let me add that I knew what it was like to not have internet or mobile phones and just because a certain group of people were born into it and find it easy for them doesn’t mean they own it. 

Also, in terms of fandom and the artistic/literary outputs that members have put their heart and soul into to create, those who want to enjoy such things better be over 21 because those stuff sometimes ain’t for minors, ya know. *side eyes A03 and fan art*

Fandom is for everybody. Social media is for everybody. Just be respectful, be kind, be welcoming and stay in your lane.

Bucharest (Part Three)

Part One  Part Two

Summary:  Journal entries into Bucky’s time in Bucharest and what he was doing during his time there.
Pairing: Bucky x Reader
Words: 386
A/N: Thank you to @lethargicprofessor for editing, and for being the Ned to my Peter Parker. 

Journal Entry 2/22/2018

“Just leave early,” I said, holding her hips. The two of us were out of breath from the intense kissing that seemed to happen every time I visited her at work. It was like we couldn’t get enough of each other. The two of us were in the same supply closet we’d first been in all those months ago. It became a habit that when I visited her at work, she would take her lunch and it would be spent in here. As I begged for her to stay, she ran her fingers through my hair. I love that feeling, I thought to myself. The smile on her lips told me that while she was tempted, her responsibility was to keep us both from starving. “Buck, I can’t…” she said, her words trailing off as my lips ghosted down her neck. The perfume she was wearing was so sweet,I couldn’t help but nip at her neck, causing a slight whimper from her. “I… need… to go…” She said, doing her best to pry herself away from me. I gave her a wicked smile and she opened the door before I could do any more damage.                                                                                                                 ——————-
Bucky caused so much trouble for you at work. Your coworkers all knew what you both were doing in the supply closet and never stopped giving you shit about it. “The two of you started making out in there, yes?” They asked, laughing. Rolling your eyes, you couldn’t help the blush that creeped its way into your cheeks. As Bucky walked out of the store, the others continued to talk about him.

“He’s very cute,” one of them said.

“We really don’t blame you for what happens on your lunch,” another teased.

“Guys, enough.” You said, laughing. They can really be too much sometimes, you thought to yourself.  

When you arrived home that night, you could see that Bucky was already waiting for you. Before you could even close the door, Bucky pressed his lips against yours. As he did so, he closed and locked the door with his metal arm and trailed his flesh hand down your body. The two of you collapsed onto the bed. As you did so, a feeling of relief crashed through you as you realized you didn’t have to work tomorrow.

@ailynalonso15 @lilasiannerd @the-instrumental-mortal @cassandras-musings

anonymous asked:

what was your best acid trip?

This is a hilarious question because I was hoping no one would ask me about acid, since that’s all people would ask me about back in the day.

I don’t really have a best acid trip. They’ve all been unique in every way. It’s always nice to see galaxies and DNA infused in this same physical reality. Another trip I was surrounded by beings, and they were telling me what music notes to choose (I was making music at the time). In other trips I’ve talked to ancestors, including my grandpa who committed suicide on a Christmas day. In other trips I’ve gone completely out of body and became God and was able to manifest reality instantly, the only problem is that I was blacked out in THIS reality so I got myself into trouble. Another favorite was dancing in the mud, and some hippie jesus guy looked at me and said “this is God’s gift!” and we were all covered in mud. I think at that same festival a monk found me, and I opened a random page of his book and it was Krishna playing music, so I sorta found my purpose after that. Also at Burning Man, my girlfriend and I were just sobbing and it was beautiful. And we were doing this hand motion over our faces like we were “taking off” the layers of our faces, and we were both doing removing our layers and seeing deeper and deeper into ourselves, and she was me. <3

I haven’t tripped in a while. I ALWAYS go into a schizophrenic/shamanic state.

Thanks for asking btw. 

anonymous asked:

but what's the point of shipping robron then?? if it's not that epic all-encompassing love? (i mean what's the point of shipping anything tbh but especially these two) if it's just 'oh yeah i wouldn't be against being with you but it's whatever you know..'?? idk it's very healthy and good for real life relationships but what's always drawn me to robron was that soul-deep bond that kept pulling them together... and idk i thought we were all on the same page about loving that.. 1/2

2/2 .. but i guess the trend now is to think robron aren’t anything special and they could have what they have with other people, even have better with other people and i swear i don’t understand this fandom anymore lol i didn’t spend years of my life shipping this admittedly messed up ship for them to enjoy the idea of them kinda liking each other, kinda wanting each other. idk sorry if this sounded bitchy but yeah they’re not just 2 random ppl who could be replaced by anyone else to me.. :(

Well my lovely anon, I think u are completely missing what people are saying. u seem to be taking it as “I could take u or leave u” when it’s more like “I want u. I want to share my life w u and I want everything w u but if not being w me makes u happier, then my world won’t shatter to pieces.” Like, for me, I prefer to be wanted rather than needed in that, “my life will be over without u” way. I mean, seriously I love seeing it on screen cause it makes me feel things. And I think it’s possible to have that kind of all consuming love that brings u back together again and again without it being toxic af. 

And like the thing is, yes, the boys could absolutely have love w other people, love that is actually better in some ways, but it won’t be the same. It won’t be enough, which is what leads them back together. That’s actually a more compelling story to me than just destroying each other cause they are so codependent. u can have a soul deep bond, an all encompassing love that spans oceans and continents and blood shed and still be what my post was talking about. 

I do really love that messed up stuff about rbron but like..it’s reached a point that no one really seems to like and would like to see change. I think a lot of us care more about them as individuals than as a couple now. 

I just genuinely think people are taking what a lot of us are saying the wrong way. Nobody is saying that they aren’t special or replaceable because when u love someone like that..u can never replace them. And I enjoy the soapyness of them. The drama and the intense love they share but I’d like to see them just want each other instead of need cause it seems like they are together purely out of need instead of want and I like, don’t find that enjoyable. 

And really it comes back to this: what makes them special is subjective. They are special because of what u personally think, not what anyone else does. I think they are special for completely different reasons than other people do. And some people think they aren’t special at all anymore. I mean, if that’s how ur taking mine and other people’s posts I’m not sure what to tell u? Because that’s not the way I see it at all. 

(Re)Birth

Yen’fay paused, allowing the cries of nearby cicadas and soft melodies of wind chimes to fill the silence as he considered what to say. Finally, he placed the shy bloom of a lotus flower and a stick of his favorite scent of incense at the head of the grave.

“My apologies,” he murmured quietly, as he lit the end of his offering. “I couldn’t be certain what would be… appropriate to bring you.” Common sense had told him to bring things that he had once enjoyed, but who was to say? Were they really doubles, after all? One and the same? Or were they both totally different men who just happened to share a face and a name?

His eyes wandered freely across the burial site, having only seen it from a distance once before. Unlike the recently deceased king and queen, and all the former dynasts that came before them, the Yen’fay of this world had not been buried in the Imperial Graveyard. He’d been given a separate plot of land nearby, and had been posthumously awarded an alias that was inscribed on his tombstone. All these things had been done to protect his grave from desecration from those that were less than pleased by his decision to join the Valmese Empire.

Perhaps it should have felt disgraceful, being barred from his familial burial grounds, but Yen’fay knew there was nothing more important than his beloved sister. He would gladly welcome being damned for all eternity, if it meant her safekeeping. The Yen’fay of this world had understood the true meaning of sacrifice, and for that, Yen’fay was eternally grateful. It was clear to him, which one was the better man.

He bowed his head in front of the tombstone, in reverence for the man laid to rest there. “I know, though our lineage is intertwined, we are naught but strangers,” he began slowly. “But I must express my deepest gratitude for all that you’ve done to keep our most cherished kin safe. I swear to thee, I will not falter in your stead.”

There was a pause as he chose his words carefully for what to say next. “I know I have no right to ask anything of you, but… I pray that if you find the spirit of… my Say’ri in your journeys… That you might accompany her through the afterlife. I pray that you both might find peace together, wherever you are…”

A final bow of his head. “A joyous day of birth to you, Yen’fay of Chon’sin.” Leaving the flowers and incense where it was, he left the modest, yet meticulously well-kept grave.

anonymous asked:

Why do you think Bioware got Sonic so wrong?

Most likely a combination of the belief that they could do better with him (and the rest of the cast) than SEGA could, and the belief that the American interpretation is superior to the original Japanese interpretation.

These were, after all, the same guys who boasted about how smarter their portrayal of Big was, even though said portrayal was revealed to be a complete dummy, showcasing very well how they missed the point of the character completely. Just like they did with Sonic. And Amy. And Shadow. And Omega…

It’s one thing to add your own personal spin on an established character for the sake of helping your interpretation stand out. It’s another thing entirely to totally rewrite the character’s personality for the sake of appeasing your own idea of what would make them “appealing”. I may not be the biggest fan of Sonic himself, but you don’t see me changing his character to suit my tastes in my own fanfics.

Doing that is simply a red flag hinting at unprofessionalism and egotism.

1/13/17 @coldsunnyday The ducks aren’t actually green. They’re untrustworthy creatures, and they’re lying about what color they are. Don’t listen to them.

It’s an optical illusion called “structural color.” Their feathers are black. The fluffy side bits of the feathers (barbs) are also black. The little hooks that keep the barbs all lined up (barbules) are also black. There are microscopic little ridges (tubules) on the barbules that are also black. But the tubules are exactly the same size as a wavelength of green light, so instead of absorbing green light the way a black object should, they reflect it and the ducks look green. 

If you put one of the ducks under a good enough microscope, you’d see that no individual part of it was actually green in any way.

Avian biology generally can’t produce blue or green pigments. Birds that look blue or green are lying about it. Don’t trust them.

Except for turacos. They’re actually green, and very pleased with themselves about it. Look at this guy, here’s a bird you can trust:

Ravenclaw Headcanon

Professor Longbottom is the head of Gryffindor house and the Ravenclaws don’t understand why, because if Professor Potter killed Voldemort, shouldn’t he be head of house? So as Ravenclaws do, they pushed the subject even though it wasn’t their business (mostly because Gryffindors just shrug it off and move on). Ravenclaws asked headmistress McGonagall why, and she just responds with “Because Professor Longbottom is a more exemplary Gryffindor.” And the Ravenclaws are like “what? No?” So they take the matter to Professor Potter and ask him. He just laughs and says, “I fought because I had to, because I was chosen by Voldemort, and was magically linked to him, I had no way out. And Neville was chosen by the death eaters. He faced more enemies personally, and he could’ve ran and hid, but he was the face of the revolution here. Neville stood his ground while I was in hiding.”
And all the Ravenclaws become awestruck and ask for more information, and both professors just brush off the subject. And because the Ravenclaws are who they are, when history of magic has it’s lesson on the war at hogwarts, they pay more attention than anyone and soon have a deeper understanding and respect for Professor Longbottom.

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i feel like i owe the Foxes at least one group drawing considering i read all the books in like 3 days…