#i am just a mess most of the time

[seherstudies]

Hi Seher-senpai,

I take it you study Japanese at university?

Feel like sharing what it's like?

I only took a course back when I was a uni student at a uni of applied science. Since then, I've been dabbling in self-studying but that is kind of hard to keep up at times... I'd like to get back into "proper" studying, so I would like to ask whether you have some tips?

Anyways, thanks for your blog, I just found it and scrolled a little through it. Always cool to meet other JP learners 😊

Sending some good vibes from Bavaria

-Bee

Sorry that it took me some time to get back to you. Life is busy at the moment, oh and servus aus Österreich! :)

I take it you study Japanese at university?

I do! I am a Japanese studies major, so they come in the bundle haha

Feel like sharing what it's like?

Sure thing! Beforehand, I have two types (?) of Japanese classes, Japanische Theorie (Theoretical Japanese), which is held in German, and Japanische Praxis (Practical Japanese), which is entirely in Japanese

The pace can sometimes be a bit too fast for me, sometimes we would do an entire chapter in one lesson.... But overall, I enjoy most parts of my classes!

In Theory, we learn about grammar passively and you could also say about how to translate Japanese into German and it's also profs way to check if we understood the grammar. The exams of the class kill me though. In a semester we have two kanji and two translation exams and I don't know which one is worse lmao The first two few years we only worked with textbooks (we used Bunka Shokyu Nihongo 1+2 and now we use the Advanced Tobira) but now, I am in my last year, we moved on to different types of texts like song lyrics, essays and learn more about slang, spoken Japanese and that sort. I am grateful for that because Tobira can be quite dry at times. It’s definitely my favourite out of the two simply because the prof makes it a heap of fun with his random, while educational, rambles or anecdotes.

Praxis we should learn how to apply the grammar studied in Theory, so we do a lot of grammar exercises (complete the sentences mostly). It certainly helped with building a strong foundation, but I do wish we would… actually use the language in class more ya know. The only “speaking” we do is by reading sentences out loud and I am not sure about my peers, but it certainly doesn’t help me learn how to speak Japanese. We are not learning Japanese to be able to communicate but simply for class where we cover topics you will most likely never have a conversation about. At least I know I will never talk about robots. But I have the feeling that is an issue with most language classes...

I'd like to get back into "proper" studying, so I would like to ask whether you have some tips?

Good question. I had to think about it a bit ngl and I hope some things will be useful to you in a way.

Build discipline while you still have a lot of motivation. The first one or two weeks use apps like Duolingo or Lingodeer simply to build the habit of daily learning. Even better if you can set a specific time every day. For example, every day after dinner it is Anki/Memrise/Lingodeer/etc. o’clock. You HAVE to do a bit every day - even if it's just for 3 minutes. If you teach your brain that sometimes you can skip, then it will try to find excuses to skip another day and soon you will slip.

Have different activities for different levels of energy/attention. This kind of latches on to the previous point. Have core activities you do every day for the sake of progress and on days where you are more motivated and alert, do something that requires more effort and have a set of relaxing activities for your low days to keep your TL floating around in your head.

consistency > efficiency. The best method is not the most optimized one or what someone says is more efficient but the one you actually enjoy and stick to. This also goes when you choose media to consume, read/watch what you enjoy. Keep a healthy mix though: Each medium has it's own speaking style. You won't learn everyday Japanese if you only watch dramas or anime, so include a variety like drama, anime, podcasts, Youtube videos, news etc.

Choose a resource for grammar, vocab etc. and stick with it until the end unless you really don't like it. This video (~12min) by Robin McPherson goes more into depth of the 'Paradox of Choice' and what it means for language learners in this day and age and how you can counter choice paralysis. Japanese is a popular language. Therefore there are many resources out there and it’s easy to start doubting our decision. You see the next shiny thing and want to try that out and often we don’t even think twice about purchasing another textbook because you have heard something good about it. I highly recommend the video!

I can also recommend you this video by Livakivi on how to learn Japanese but it's a general guide. His videos are great! The most important part though is having fun with the language though. Best of luck!

[stuckinapril]

me stoically navigating my way through drama bc bigger things are ahead and it’s not my fault people are dumb

[natasha-in-space]

So I'm replaying Ray's After ending rn, and it got me thinking that what I adore so much about Rika as an antagonist is just how damn scary she can be. I always found those who cause harm with good intentions (at least in their point of view) much scarier than those who hurt you with pure intention on hurting you. I think the best example of it is this CG in particular:

Look at that. Such a loving, gentle expression on her face. Probably kissing his forehead. Because she loves him. Heck, without any context, this CG looks even sweet, if you think about it. And yet, all that is while Saeyoung is forcefully sedated on a powerful concoction of drugs even a trained agent like him can't do anything about (and Saeyoung WAS definitely trained to deal with this sort of thing, hence it's mentioned that this is a 'special' kind of drugs). He looks miserable. Bags under his eyes, his expression pained and troubled, even his hair is paler than usual. All that as a direct result of her actions. But she's utterly blind to it. What's scarier, is that she knowingly shuts off her understanding of what's really happening. She's not oblivious to it at all. She just chooses not to see it that way. Simply because she doesn't want to.

Rika is the type of antagonist that will cup your cheek into her warm hand with the most loving of smiles on her face, all while you are getting elixir poured down your throat. Even whispering to you that you're doing great, that the pain will soon pass, and that she can't wait to see you reach the happiness she knows you deserve. I won't be surprised if she even cried genuine tears of compassion during some ceremonies for her believers. All while being the sole reason behind their suffering.

And that's... God, that's terrifying to me. I love that about her.

Rika Kim, they could never make me hate you

[awakenthebeing]

It has FINALLY happened... moomin brainrot has taken me yet again there's gonna be a lot of this posted here probably !!! <:3

[lanternlightss]

okay .. take two !!!

+ bonus doodles

[slicznymartwy]

I’m not sure if your comfortable with it, but if it’s alright, can I request Billy Lenz and the reader (established relationship) having some sort of conversation on his past and the reader comforting him?

this one is rlly sad im sorry :(( this is mostly hc since i've only ever watched the original 1974 film, so idk if this lines up with the canon from the other movies. from what i know about it, i think it's similar. no mention of agnes in this warning: sa of a minor mention, please do not read if that bothers you. also, reader insert was abused/beaten by their mom. very sad take care of yourselves please

☾⋆⁺₊ billy lenz x gn!reader

Night fills your bedroom and coats itself on the floors and walls, except for where the yellow streetlamp spills in past your curtains. Sparing a glance to the alarm clock on your bedside table, you see the time is so late it could already be considered early. 

Still, you can’t think about sleep; not when Billy is laying beside you and the house is blissfully empty, two things so rare that it almost seems serendipitous. You’re not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so you keep staring at the ceiling and let the warmth of his body radiate into yours.

“Billy,” you whisper into the quiet room. “Are you asleep?”

You can hear him grunt and squirm beside you, and you feel bad for waking him. It wasn’t often he got a full night’s rest on a bed, and you knew for a fact that there was no mattress in the attic. There were only so many chances to have Billy and the house all to yourself, though, and you don’t want to squander it.

“Billy,” you say again, nudging him with your foot.

He grunts again, but it sounds more cognisant than before. He reaches over himself to pat your arm, almost like he’s quieting down a noisy cat, and you can feel his hand trail down to your own. His palm covers the back of your hand, and he threads his fingers in between yours, curling them down together. 

It’s a gesture so sweet that you’re tempted to let him fall back asleep. There’s no helping your addiction to him, though, and you tighten your fingers on top of his.

“I’m not tired,” you say with a pout. “I wanna talk.”

This time, Billy groans, low and long. You think it might be out of annoyance, but you can feel him stretching out beside you, straightening his long legs underneath the covers. He huffs when he’s done, eyes blinking open.

You love his pretty eyes, an orangey amber that you were always getting lost in, no matter how unsettling they could be. It always felt like he was staring into you, like he could see the marrow in your bones.

You loved his intensity. It made you feel alive when the rest of the world was tired and grey.

“Hi,” you say, reaching over with you unoccupied hand to touch his jaw. “I didn’t ask before. How was your day?”

He’s quiet for a long time, and you wonder if he can fall asleep with his eyes open, but then he says, “Bad.” 

The word hangs in the air. Billy’s face gives up nothing, a blank page with no words of his own to say. You frown and pull your hand back from his face to rest on your own chest. The other stays in his hold, neither of you willing to let go.

“I’m sorry. Do you want to talk about it?” you ask, although it doesn’t surprise you when Billy shakes his head against your pillow.

“Okay.” You squeeze against his fingers again, pulling gently on his arm so that it rested more heavily on top of you. The bedroom air is quiet, but your mind continues to race. It’ll be good for him to get it off his chest, you tell yourself.

“Is it something old or something new?”

He thinks about your words for a while, but then you hear him mutter, “Old.”

“Bad memories?” you ask, looking back at him. He blinks at you, then nods.

“I get bad memories, too.” You lean against him slightly, and glance up at the ceiling. “From when you were a kid?”

This time, Billy shrugs. You know you shouldn’t push him, but your heart aches to see him hurt and to not have the rememdy.

You turn around and let go of him for only a moment. You search for his hand again, this time with the opposite one to press your hands together, palm to palm. Your fingers entwine so easily, so naturally, that it makes your heart ache.

Maybe he just needs to know he’s not alone in whatever bullshit he’s had to endure in his life. Maybe it will help to know that you have bad memories too.

“My mom used to hit me,” you admit quietly. You stare at the way your hands mesh together, with your nails polished and Billy’s own chewed up. “She used to take my stepdad’s belt and hit me with it. Used to just be the leather part, but then she would swing the buckle at me too. She broke a tooth, but it was just a baby one. My adult teeth grew in alright.”

You keep your voice casual as you speak, because facts are facts, and there’s no reason to get upset about something you can’t change anymore. Besides, you reminesce about your childhood so infrequently that it feels like it all happened to another person. 

You remember the beatings like you’re watching it happen to someone else – something else, because you don’t feel bad for them when they can’t sit at school because of the welts on their ass. You don’t bat an eye when their mom has to take them to the doctor to reset their broken nose.

“Bitch,” Billy spits out from beside you, and you have to laugh at the venom dripping in his voice.

“I don’t talk to her anymore,” you tell him, smiling sadly. You glance at him, but it’s hard to look at the mean look on his face. It probably isn’t for you, but your mind is traitorous and too sensitive.

Even worse, Billy could be mad on your behalf. No, you can’t think about that either, not when you’ve spent so long pretending that it didn’t really happen.

“Anyways. All that to say, I know what it’s like, having bad memories. You don’t have to tell me, just… I’m here for you,” you say, running your thumb along his hand where they’re still locked together.

“Want to,” he mutters, voice croaking unnaturally as he speaks in his own voice.

Quietly, you release his hand and instead wrap yourself around him, laying partially on top. He lets out a heavy sigh as you settle, with your arm coming up to rest by his head and your same-side leg resting over his hips. He watches the ceiling, and you watch his face from where you lay your ear to his chest

“Bad billy. Disgusting,” he mutters, and you pet his cheek with the back of your hand.

“I don’t think so.” You keep your voice careful and quiet, but he sighs and its agitated. Pent up memories start to overfill, and you can see it on his face.

“Mommy,” he starts, but his voice breaks and he coughs to clear his throat. “Mom. Fucking hate her. I hate her. Stupid fucking slut. She’s disgusting. Not me. Not Billy.”

You take your hand away from his face, watching how his expression continues to contort, mixing between anger and disgust and fear. It wrenches your heart in your chest.

“You’ve been so good, Billy. You’re not disgusting.”

“I hate her. I hate her,” he chants again. “Oh, Billy! Shut up!”

When he says his own name, it sounds like a feminine moan. You almost don’t understand, but the implication dawns on you only a moment later. It’s not difficult to piece it all together: his rage, the names he calls himself, the moan. You feel sick.

“Hey, we can stop,” you try gently, but Billy either doesn’t hear you or doesn’t want to stop.

“No one needs to know, Billy. Be a good boy.” You can’t look at his face anymore, the ugly way it scrunches up hurts you down to you core. Guilt claws at you from inside, and you wish you knew the right thing to say but you don’t. The truth, you decide, is enough for now.

“I hate her, too,” you tell him, and it sounds a little wet. You don’t let yourself cry, but your heart breaks for a younger Billy, afraid and confused. 

“That’s my mom,” he says. You don’t know what he’s trying to convey when he says that – if he wants you to pity her, or if he’s sharing his betrayal with you. He whines, a painfully soft noise that gets trapped in his throat.

Gently, carefully, you card your fingers through his hair where you can reach, and you kiss his shoulder.

“She’s gone. She can’t hurt you anymore,” you tell him, although you don’t know if it’s true. You do know that, as long as you’re by his side, there’s no way you’ll let that woman touch him again.

“I wish I could kill her,” he says through clenched teeth. His voice is thick, like he might be crying. You can’t bare to look. Billy’s grief melts into you like it’s thermodynamics, heat into cold, and you can only hope that you can take some of his and ease his mind.

“How would you do it?” you whisper, pressing your hand over his hammering chest.

“Cut… cut her head off. Smash it like a pumpkin. Oh, Billy! Good boy, Billy. Shut up!” His voice breaks when he shouts. He coughs, then gasps for air, his breath shaking as he fights against the tightenness in his throat. “I’ll turn her teeth into pumpkin seeds,” he snarls.

Without warning, you move yourself to lay completely on top of him, pressing against his body with your body weight. He groans, and you’re sure you must be squishing him, but he doesn’t complain. In fact, his arms come up around you, hooked under your arms and pressing you against him with his hands at your shoulders.

“I’ve got you,” you tell him, pressing your face against his neck. “You’re okay now. It’s just us in here. Just me and you.”

“I hate her,” he whimpers again. “I hate her. I hate her.”

You don’t say anything, because you don’t think there are any words that could possible take away his hurt without also being a complete lie. Underneath your body, you can feel Billy start to relax, grounded back to reality from the rotten memories playing in his head.

“I’m sorry today was a bad day. We can have a good one tomorrow,” you say. It’s an impossible thing to promise, but you mean it like one. You’ll make sure Billy has a good day, whether fate wants it or not.

“Okay,” he murmurs. “I’ll kill your mom too.”

“Thank you,” you say. You kiss his temple, and he leans into your lips.

© slicznymartwy 2023, please do not repost or copy.

a/n: reblogs and replies are really appreciated

[waterfallofspace]

don't know how to format this post so welcome to waterfall is craving things and she doesn't know if it's more h-rny or lonely so enjoy a little snippet of what is playing on loop in my mind~

Person A: tshhieew!

Person B: Bless you, poor little thing~

Person A: I'm- eshh'iew! tschh- kngt'shhew! I'm not little!

Person B: Even if you aren't, your sneezes sure are~

Person A, blushing: No they're- eh'tnshiew! aeshh'iee!

Person B, with a smirk: What a poor, sneezy little thing~

[crispyjenkins]

(AC wip) The Savage Price of Piety

it's desmond's deathday and i wrote like. 9,000 more words to this wip (first two parts here) last week and i want to brag about it, so happy deathday you wet bastard (mostly gen but with a surprise rarepair, time travel/reincarnation, found family, william miles’ a+ parenting, accidental subterfuge, desmond goes by miles mostly, inspired by study of flight by @esamastation but with a twist!, only somewhat historically accurate swears by which i mean probably not at all but leonardo had some Opinions alright) have some (three) chronological but scattered bits of scenes

  “Oh,” Claudia says as soon as she opens the door, seeing Ezio’s rather wretched expression, “you’ve figured it out, then.”

  “You could have told me,” he growls, following her into the entryway and closing the door behind himself. 

  Claudia scoffs, spinning on heel to lead the way further into the building for the kitchens. “I had one conversation with the boy, brother, I was hardly sure of it myself. Wait,” she halts and points a finger at him accusingly, “how did you figure it out?”

  Ezio, quite graciously he thinks, ignores the subtle insult to his intelligence. Sighing, he pushes back his hood before their mother sees him with it on indoors, and runs a hand over his beard. “I had Leonardo visit.”

  Claudia’s face slackens, before twisting into a rage that has Ezio stepping away warily.

  But she punches the wall instead of her brother, a shouted “Gods damn it!” echoing in the narrow space. Then she spins on her heel and hollers further into the residential part of the bordello, “Mother! We forgot about Leonardo!”

  Horrified by his sister and concerned for his mother’s current mental state, Ezio reaches out to put a hand on Claudia’s arm, but he doesn’t get the chance before Maria de' Auditore is shouting right back, “God damn it!”

  Grumbling, Claudia stomps down the hall and leaves a very confused Ezio hurrying to follow; she ignores all his pleas for explanation until she’s stomped into the kitchen, where their mother is pouring two very large glasses of wine, with very little water to cut down the potency. She passes one to Claudia silently, and then they both drink, though luckily they aren’t attempting to down it all at once.

  “I can’t believe we forgot the Maestro,” their mother mutters to herself as she comes over to kiss Ezio on both cheeks, before shoving the still mostly-full glass into his hands.

  “Forgot him for what?” Ezio wants to know, clutching the glass like a mother clutches a babe.

  “To test if Miles really is an Auditore.” It’s said so flippantly, like it doesn’t affect Claudia at all, but she also collapses into one of two chairs at the little tea table under the largest window. Their mother takes the other, massaging her forehead and looking like she’s grieving their family all over again.

  It occurs to Ezio, as he moves to stand next to the table, that she probably is.

--

“It’s all up to you now, Seventeen.”

  Desmond opens his eyes to the dark of the dormitory, faint moonlight cutting over the floor between his bed and Nino’s, and he can’t bring himself to move — even to roll off his arm that is very much still asleep. 

  Clay still haunts him.

  Five hundred fucking years, and his current twenty-four besides, and that fucker still won’t leave him alone. If Desmond were not so familiar with what an actual Bleed feels like, he’d almost think Clay is stuck in his brain the same way as his ancestors. Thank fuck he stopped Bleeding Ezio’s memories and feelings, while still retaining much of the training.

  Fuck, time travel is so weird.

  Or, reincarnation? He’s not sure of much, but he’s sure he was dead, he’s sure he burned, and he’s sure that though his 15th century mother had affectionately called him [redacted], his name is Desmond Miles.

  Or just Miles, he supposes. Sue him, he panicked when Adele first approached him, and the best aliases are ones you know you’ll respond to, right? If only he’d have had the forethought to divorce himself from his... future family’s surname.

  It sounds different enough with an Italian accent that it hasn’t caused any problems, yet. Like making him flinch. Or snapping that he hasn’t been a Miles since he was sixteen.

  Granted, he still has no idea what he would go by instead. Altaïr and Conner would feel weird, while Sef or Darim are just a bit on the nose, and does he look like an Edward? Malik, maybe. His grandmother here, now, is actually from the Levant, so his skin is certainly dark enough that people wouldn’t be surprised by the name.

Except that feels almost akin to naming himself Leonardo.

--

  So instead, Leonardo spends every spare moment with his best friend, sometimes to brainstorm, sometimes to simply be there for him. It’s during one of these visits, he and Ezio once again observing the youngest assassins in the training ring, that he hears Miles laugh for the first time, and it’s as if ice water has been poured directly into his veins.

  Oh fuck. Oh Saints, oh Holy Father, oh fuck.

  “Leonardo?” Ezio asks quietly, head tilted towards him in concern, but Leonardo ignores him to stumble for the bannister to lean over it and stare down at Miles learning a little jig from Tullio, laughing all the while.

  He had only heard it once, truth be told, and it had been Salaí that had caused it, but even three years later, Leonardo remembers the laugh of Rodrigo Borgia’s sinister little shadow.

  Below, Miles doesn’t stop smiling, but his golden brown gaze yanks up towards Leonardo as if knowing his thoughts are about him. His eyes narrow, then widen slightly in realisation, and then he winces and looks away, which is all the confirmation Leonardo needs.

  Turning around, Leonardo grabs a confused Ezio by the arm and drags him from the training room, ignoring his protests until they find the nearest empty room.

  “Leonardo, what—?”

  “Romulus.”

-

[vilelittlecritter]

"YoU cAnT liKe ThAt ChArAcTeR tHeY [bad action which is integral to the story and why the story is so good in the first place]"

My brother in Christ,

They are not real.

[hyohaehyuk]

He got affairzoned (x)

The video interview is called Jacob Anderson and Sam Reid share all of the details on their series Interview With The Vampire S2 - People Interview

So in the interview they ask them what they would do in a day off and Jacob mentioned that spending his day off with his wife and kid is his happy place and Sam reaction just broke my heart.

Sam was trying so hard to have a normal reaction but I think he had a reality check and either he realized he was the mistress or that jacob is not interested on him at all romantically.

Like, call me delulu how much you want it but i bet any other cast member wouldn't even had bat an eye at Jacob' answear but Sam was clearly affected and couldn't keep a poker face (dude you are an actor. Do smth 😭).

To be frank i dont know if at that time they was aware of each other feelings (i dont even know if they are now) but if they was, then Jacob was really cruel answering that question in front of Sam*, especially bc in the previous one, about what it would be their last meal, Sam said the one he had in Prague with Jacob every single night and a bit later Sam even admitted he didn't liked the food which just meant what he liked was the company. Jacob, honey, read f*cking the room

*i dont know, he could just have said something more simplified with the same meaning, like "spending time with family and friends".

[snapcracklepop-myjoints]

local tumblr user forms parasocial relationship with random ass addict, places undue importance on their continued sobriety: more at 11

[abyssal-author-and-artist]

I love being a multishipper. Yes I want these two to kiss. I also want this one person to kiss this other person even though they were kissing this other person earlier. They do not cancel each other out. Sometimes a poly ship helps but then also you ship two brothers with the same person and like. No. That would be weird. I'll just ship them both separately. That's not confusing at all.

[anotherdescentintomadness]

Rénjiān Zhì Wèi Shì Qīng Huān (Love Actually)

WANG YIBO as Zhai ZhiWei (2017)

And a little treat for all you thirsty bitches

[aromanticannibal]

Izuku is to Kacchako what Todoroki is to Bakudeku what Denki is to Momojirou

so true anon

[clumsycapitolunicorn]

it's been nearly 6 months since the ted lasso finale and im still pretty much:

[strawberrysapphocake]

Okay so I know I haven’t been active in this tag like at all this season, but uh….. what the actual fuck just happened?