sylverivy

[sylverivy]

Man. U know that itch u feel when u meet some people and u just Know. Like... its not love at first sight but u know that theyre going to be important to you

[sylverivy]

germanic and romance dudes: we have our days of the week named after some real gods

slavs: doing-nothing-day after-doing-nothing-day second middle fourth fifth sabbath

[sylverivy]

i just love the idea that hermione granger had enough of a good reputation by third year that she was granted the power of legal time travel despite being 13/14 and had once deliberately set one of her teachers on fire?

[sylverivy]

eastern europeans how betrayed were you when you found out english only has one word for cherry

[sylverivy]

I just realised there are people who have never dug ground for a bonfire with a knife, and then used the same knife to cut the sausage that was later cooked over said bonfire.

[sylverivy]

their height difference i can’t fuckign breahthe

[sylverivy]

One of the problems of keeping up with politics in three different countries is that you’re three times as likely to find out about a celebrity doing something shitty

Like, I’m willing to bet that a good chunk of the people reading this haven’t even heard about the Lou Bega fascism concert

[sylverivy]

I remember one of our Biology textbooks said that one of the factors that affects how much food (nutrients) you need is gender :)

“Well according to high school Biology there are only two genders” and according to GCSE English, you have to write like you swallowed a thesaurus to be a good writer and if you ever use the word “said” you’re bad at writing. Sometimes schools get things wrong

[sylverivy]

One thing that really got me when living in Poznań was "obkład", which is a word for ANYTHING you'd put on a slice of bread

Poznań is a different dimension

[sylverivy]

that new animal crossing character named sasha that uses he/him pronouns i say congrats on the gender

[sylverivy]

Wild boars in Belovezhskaya Pushcha forest reserve. Photo by M. Savin (1986).

[sylverivy]

Genuinely love Ireland’s whole thing of “Faeries aren’t real but they’re 100% real”

[sylverivy]

Using Tumblr to improve on your target language by following a bunch of blogs in that language/from ppl whose native language that language is is a really weird experience cuz you get exposed to the culture but in a really tumblr way.

Like, I know these two men are two of the most important authors in this language's literary history. But all I know about them is that there is a sizeable amount of people that write gay fanfiction about them.

[sylverivy]

They really should teach people how to cook in school.

[sylverivy]

the faded, once-beloved tumblr diva ushers you into her projection room and has her gay butler put on a reel of hit posts from days of yore. “look at me” she says, clutching your arm a little too tightly with her sharp sharp nails and puffing on a gold cigarette holder, hoping the smoke will hide the tears brimming in her eyes “wasnt i beautiful”

[sylverivy]

Congratulations, your Central or Eastern European country is being featured in a work of Western media! Here are the options for how it might be depicted:

An active warzone

Somehow still communist despite the fact that communism in your country ended decades ago

Why does it look like the Middle Ages are still a thing?

Even the non-Russians are Russian

This is Germany

[sylverivy]

yandere!chrome headcanons, pt 1

Yandere Chrome? You mean regular Chrome?

I’m kidding, of course. Chrome just wants the best for you.

It’s not like he’d settle for anything else.

He’s always loved you, you know. Ever since your academy days. You don’t remember him, but he remembers you—you’re like the gleam of sunlight on a lake, blinding and unforgettable.

He was a couple years younger. You don’t remember the underclassmen. They were too young, a faceless sea of cadets. Chrome, in your mind, is an unknowable entity that you’ve only ever known as Strike Hawk leader.

But Chrome remembers you.

Thoughts of you consumed him—the upperclassman who was always laughing and yet blew away all the previous class records. You were the ideal. You still are.

Chrome has, of course, always loved bright and perfect things.

His last two years at Faust are spent hearing rumors and whispers of you, climbing the ranks faster than anyone possibly could have expected. Faust’s star graduates always do well in the military, but your rise is unprecedented.

With every rumor, he falls in love with you a little more.

He follows you to Babylonia. To everyone else, he justifies it as his passion, as furthering his career. It’s simply the logical next step.

But he’s always chasing the comet trail you leave across his sky. He never tells anyone, though—what would his father say? Because this goes beyond simple adoration, or even a puppy crush. Chrome tries not to think about it. This can’t be normal.

And yet you remain even when he becomes a construct, living in his M.I.N.D. despite how hard he tries to focus.

Then he is Strike Hawk’s leader, and even as he gains two subordinates—comrades?—in Kamui and Banji, his eyes remain fixed on the horizon. On you, the new commandant of Gray Raven.

He tries not to be viciously jealous of Lee, who dotes on your every need even as he scoffs and sneers at you. Lee is a capable construct, he reminds himself, and remains professional even as he resists the urge to shoot him on joint missions.

You’re not supposed to shoot your comrades for being attached to their superior officers.

And whatever affection he has for you, Lee does a good job of covering your back. For every hit he takes for you, Chrome’s estimation of him rises. There’s a vicious satisfaction in knowing all Lee is good for is a meat shield.

Though part of him wishes he could be that person for you, he has his hands full keeping Kamui in line.

It’s all fine and dandy, of course, until Lee fails to dispatch a Corrupted coming dangerously close to your squad. Lucia is too far away, busy clearing a path forward as your squad’s vanguard. Liv is busy with a shielded Corrupted. And your back is wide, wide open.

Chrome doesn’t think. He abandons the turret he had nearly destroyed to come skidding behind you. The first thing you hear is the crunch of metal and Chrome’s agonized yell.

You whip around, guns upraised, to see a rusty blade jammed through Chrome’s shoulder. He wrestles the Corrupted back with his free hand. If he hadn’t stepped in front of it, it would have torn through your back.

You destroy it with one well-placed shot through its exposed computing system, and it falls back. Chrome rips the blade out of his shoulder and he feels nothing, because he took a blow that would’ve—

No. You would have survived. A Corrupted couldn’t kill you. Chrome is at once both brutally aware of your mortality and convinced that you cannot die.

Because if you died, what would become of him?