#I started learning a new foreign language which is going so-so but at least I also improved my English

[lieutenant-amuel]

On today’s pedagogy class, we talked about what was happening to us for the whole year and made “a life tree”, and honestly, I didn’t even realize how colourful this year actually was.

[wellsbering]

i've been going through prismatic-bell's blog to try to piece together exactly what happened to make xir think that reporting someone to the FBI for terrorism with zero evidence was a logical course of action, and i came across something i felt like i just had to pick apart here. i thought about responding to the post directly, but i don't want my notifications to get overrun by zionists (i mean, that'll probably happen anyways, but...fingers crossed)

if you don't wanna read this whole long thing where i explain why this specific gofundme is indeed trustworthy, at least share & donate to muhammad's campaign here

first, what kind of fucking racist brain worms do you have to have to see an arab man asking for help and think that it's "threatening"?

what, exactly, is threatening about this screenshot? saying the honest truth, that being unable to afford medical care for a serious injury could make an amputation necessary??? asking someone to share a link on other social media to increase reach??? using ALL CAPS, LIKE A LOT OF PEOPLE ON THE INTERNET DO FOR EMPHASIS?? please explain it to me.

and then, of course, we have Zionist of the Year prismatic-bell's response.

most of these grammatical inconsistencies that prismatic-bell seems to think of as damning proof (mixing up 1st & 3rd-person pronouns, mixing up "hand" and "arm") are probably not things that someone who doesn't speak english would catch. tell me, tumblr: which of these do you think are "he" and "his", and which do you think are "i" and "me"?

if you're unfamiliar with the arabic writing system, you have zero clues to go on, right?

some of the people sending these asks are copying & pasting english text they see other people using to ask for donations (this is what led to that other scam controversy with bassel). learning a new language is fucking hard. trying to proofread their own messages in not just a foreign language, but a foreign ALPHABET, is not a good use of their time when they're in a warzone and desperately trying to ask anyone they can for help. also to elaborate on the hand/arm thing, it's not that fucking hard to find his gofundme, which contains photos of his actual x-rays.

you can see the shrapnel in his arm. reverse image search only brings up 5 results, 4 of which are tumblr posts linking to this gofundme, and one of which is the gofundme itself.

the bullet is in his arm. as you may imagine, having a bullet strike and break your arm is going to impact your ability to use your fucking hand. muhammad has nerve damage as a result of this injury. so yes, surgery is necessary. you can't really fix nerve damage with a simple round of antibiotics.

"ALSO also also: has nobody in Gaza heard of antibiotics? Why are we going straight for surgery?" is so fucking patronizing. yes, everyone in gaza has heard of antibiotics. unfortunately, antibiotics don't randomly spawn in hospitals like a fucking video game, they need to be TRANSPORTED there, which impossible to do when israel is blocking nearly all humanitarian aid from entering the gaza strip. this is why there are so many amputations being performed in gaza right now. they are running out - or in some locations, have already completely run out - of basic medical supplies.

also, by reading the gofundme description, the "rebuild" vs "evacuate" bit becomes clear: his family needs to rebuild their home, and he has to leave gaza to get adequate medical care. in other words, he has to leave a dangerous place that is being bombed to get to somewhere safe where he can receive medical treatment. if only there was a word for that. perhaps one that starts in evac- and ends in -uate. if only!

regarding the emojis: personally, i don't use a ton of emojis in my writing. but again, considering the aforementioned language barrier, is it surprising to see a lot of emojis? those are at least something that make sense in every language. they also serve to break up a big wall of text that people might otherwise scroll by. i have adhd, so sometimes if a long post is broken up with an occasional ❗ then my eyes will be drawn to that, and i will actually read that sentence and get put back on track.

i don't think i need to get into the "outed as a scammer" bit, since that's been thoroughly debunked. even blogs dedicated to identifying scams on tumblr, like kyra45, consider el-shab-hussein and 90-ghost's vetting process to be reliable and share their lists of vetted fundraisers.

and finally: "People can be bought. Accounts can be hacked. Maybe they used to be honest. They’re not now." this wording seems to imply that all blogs dedicated to palestinian gofundmes are dishonest? it's just as ridiculous to say "every single ask you get is a scam" as it is to say "every single ask you receive is legitimate". a blanket statement like this only serves to continue to undermine the legitimacy of the many REAL GAZANS who are asking for help to rebuild their lives.

i hope this clears some things up if anyone was confused about the legitimacy of some of these asks. the long and short of it is, it's not that hard to just look up a person's blog and see if a trusted person, who actually knows what they're doing (unlike prismatic-bell), has verified the legitimacy of their campagin or not. to be honest, i think that automatically assuming every ask related to gaza is a scam says something about the way you view palestinians. and it's not pretty.

[guillemelgat]

I just started a new semester, and I'm finally getting the chance to take Malayalam, which I've been trying to do since my undergrad. This is obviously a very exciting development, and it's so delightful to be in a language class again for the first time in ages, but it's also been a very unique experience as far as language classes go. First of all, for me, who is generally used to having very odd personal connections to a language and being the overachieving linguist of the class. And second of all because it's just a very different experience to be in a class largely oriented towards heritage learners and people with some cultural familiarity.

There are five people in the class. Of those five, four have Malayalee family and have had some exposure to Malayalam throughout our lives; the last person is a native speaker of another non-Dravidian South Asian language. Of the four of us who are Malayalee, I'm basically the only one who didn't have a significant amount of Malayalam at home growing up. What this means is that we've spent very little time on the phonetics of the language, because everyone roughly knows how to pronounce it - something which wouldn't be true if there were non-South Asian in the class! (It was a bit comforting to hear all the other Malayalees struggling with aspirated consonants, which have constantly been the bane of my existence, and then to hear the instructor say that few people pronounce them right in spoken Malayalam anyways.) The instructor could ask us to say things on the first day, and the more fluent speakers could say them. There is already Malayalam being mixed in with the instruction. I'm sure by the end of the semester we'll be having extended conversations - especially since the two of us who don't speak have very concrete communicative desires for our outside lives.

It's also a very scary experience for me, personally. Or maybe scary isn't quite the right word, but I've always felt out of my depth in claiming Malayalee heritage - I've always felt that there were so many things which I didn't know which any normal Malayalee would. There is no evidence that this is true, at least insofar as that my cousins with two Malayalee parents have wildly varying experiences and I'm not actually that far outside the norm. In most American spaces, I will never be clocked as white, and most people usually immediately identify me as South Asian. Nonetheless, I know that when I visited Kerala this past December, I was decidedly foreign - to the two guys speaking in rapid-fire Malayalam on the flight from Qatar, to the person at the immigration counter in Trivandrum, even to my own relatives. Part of it is a mental block on my part, of feeling myself foreign and therefore never letting myself belong. Part of it is that I am, ultimately, American. But either way, in this class, I can feel that I'm the American in the room, even when I'm not, even when my pronunciation is just as good as the other Malayalees and there's nothing that's telling me I can't belong. I keep freezing up when asked to say real things, or when people speak to me, because there's some unreachable standard in my brain of Not A Real Malayalee, and everything feels fraught and fragile. So maybe this semester will be about overcoming that.

It's still strange being in a language class where the instructor, on the first day, can look at you all and say, "You know why you're here, you want to be here, we all have a shared experience." But it's also a beautiful thing in its own way, and I'm really looking forward to taking on a language in this way. I love the structure and the logic of language, the puzzle of putting it together, the beauty of making friends in it and watching shows in it and listening to songs in it - but as I get older I find myself really reflecting on what it means to learn and to know a language. And sometimes those barriers to learning and to knowing are only in our minds, not in our worlds. Language is communication and connection, and I hope that Malayalam serves me to these two ends, even as it sometimes feels like a trial by fire at each word.

[rapha-reads]

IWTV rewatch

Season 1 episode 2 [... After the Phantoms of Your Former Self] - part 2/3

- [Daniel] "White master, Black student, but equal in the quiet dark" - *spits out the water I just drunk* DANIEL MOLLOY THE QUEEN THAT YOU ARE. And Louis immediately answering the provocation with a slam down of his own. I am so here for the Louis/Daniel bromance, the way they can just spend hours snarking at each other. Saltmates, if you will.

Louis is such a Bitch, the way he decides to eat that fox in front of Daniel to remind him that "vampires are killers", and the way he lets the blood drip, when canonically vampires never waste any blood (at least in the book, that's one of the thing Lestat repeats often, a vampire's feeding is clean, no trace of blood left anywhere, but in a visual media about vampires, of course it looks better to have the blood dripping on the chin after, sometimes you gotta privilege aesthetic over function).

[Louis] "Vampires are killers, apex predators whose all-seeing eyes were meant to give them detachment, the ability to see a human life in its entirety, not with any mawkish sorrow, but with the thrilling satisfaction of being the end of that life and having a hand in the divine plan."

Yeaaah, like Daniel says, "don't expect every reader to swallow that one". Because for one thing, you don't even fully believe it, Louis, you who's about to spend several years starving yourself feeding only on rats and cats, you who just had a fox for supper instead of going hunting, you who hates feeding on humans and doesn't let even your fellow vampires witness you feeding (book canon), you who also goes during the 20th century from crisis of faith to fully atheist and uncaring about religion... Pretty words. Empty words. I'm not buying it.

"Mawkish": lacking flavor or having an unpleasant taste / exaggeratedly or childishly emotional (Merriam-Webster). Well I didn't know that word. Collins Dictionary tells me that the best translation to French would be "mièvre", and now I am loving this even more. "Mièvre" is not a very used word in French, which is a shame because it's a very pretty and very evocative word, and "mawkish" definitely gives me the same impression. Yey, I learned something new today! New word to incorporate to my vocabulary.

- I swear I'm not trying to comment every single minute of this episode, but every single minute brings something interesting. I have to stop on Louis and Lestat's conversation about languages and killing being its own language, as a multilingual person myself (I could spend hours talking linguistics, sorry not sorry):

[Lestat] "'When I first started learning English, I abhorred it. Every word felt like a doorknob falling out of my mouth. Chapeau is a hat, étoile was a star...' [Louis] 'Killin' folks ain't a second language!' [Lestat] 'But when I started dreaming in English, that's when I embraced it. And now, I have English consonants to thank for this astonishing jawline.' [Louis] 'These are nightmares I'm having, Lestat, not dreams.'"

Firstly, yeah, Lestat's right, "hat" is weird. It's chapeau in French, cappello in Italian, kapela in Greek, even quba'a in Arabic, and Arabic is not even an Indo-European language... The heck does hat come from? *resists the urge to go linguistic deep dive* Secondly, yeah, he's right, he does have an amazing jawline - taking this opportunity to bring attention to the scar on the corner of his mouth, book readers know what's up. Where was I? Ah, yeah. No, Lestat's right about a foreign language sounding weird in your mouth until you start to understand its spirit instead of only its letter - words falling out of your mind versus dreaming in that language. Been talking English for long enough that I do dream in English, and been multilingual all my life so I adapt to languages fast enough, but it's still a struggle. I'm fluent in Spanish now, but I don't dream in Spanish yet, and I sometimes feel like the word sounds wrong when it actually sounds like it should.

What it means in regard to Louis is that he's a slow learner. Gotta sound the kill one by one, taking your time, before you get to be a consummate killer. Can't learn a language in a night. Can't learn a language if you don't practice. Can't get used to killing if you don't kill, and can't survive if you don't kill, and vicious circle, doesn't kill>doesn't survive>doesn't practice>doesn't learn>doesn't survive>doesn't kill... Extremely interesting to see that Lestat IS actually teaching Louis about vampire ways, but Louis is not ready to listen yet, or, to continue the metaphor, they're not speaking the same language and they haven't learned to understand each other's language (not talking about accents obviously, but once again taking the opportunity to praise both Sam and Jacob's vocal work, between Sam's French accented drawling English and Jacob's Creole slang in NOLA and flat "standard" English in Dubai, it's a feast for the ears).

Okay, while Lestat's teaching Louis how to read minds (the Mind Gift, that book!Louis actually doesn't get in the books until very, very late on, and isn't good at, and doesn't show), wanna just say: look how giddy they are! Look how soft they are with each other! Look how fondly Louis speaks to Lestat, how fondly Lestat looks at Louis! We forget, and Louis too, but in between the misunderstandings and the drama and the anguish, they DID love each other, they DID have good times, they DID build a life with each other. It wasn't complete (and no I'm not talking about darling Claudia, I'm talking about speaking the same language), but it was good enough for quite a few years.

Oh man, Louis reading his family's minds, I coulda told him that's a bad idea *points to every literature with a man reader*, but also that passage in Narnia (Dawn Trader) when Lucy spies on her school friends and hear things she didn't want to read and didn't have to know. Don't have time to go search for that passage now, but Aslan tells her something like "some things really do not need be done", or sum' like that.

- Oh, hey, look. More social commentary. That white guy's gonna get eaten if he keeps patronising Louis like that. "You truly are an exceptional Negro" - hey Lou baby, can I kill him please? Lemme kill him for you. "I had let them talk to me like that so long, I had stopped hearing it" - oh, and Louis' accent is slipping here, can you hear it. Really, REALLY love how that change from book canon adds so many layers to Louis' character. Hey, have I said lately that Louis' my favourite? 'Cause Louis is my favourite. "Yes, sir. Of course, sir. Subject, verb, agreement, sir. Smile, nod, yes sir." - AWARDS FOR JACOB, all the awards for Jacob please, and my gods how much do I adore Louis, that sassy, snarky, bitchy queen. I want to have a book club with him.

"But I wasn't a man anymore. I was something else. I had powers now, and decades of rage to process, and it was both random and unfortunate, the man picked that night to dabble in fuckery." - so first, Jacob keeps on flexing his vocal skills by letting Louis slip more and more back to his original accent, and then, YES KING, get his ass, DRAIN HIM. And in a more meta way, all hails liberation movements and the process of reclaiming one's identity. Maybe not through murder, we all ain't lucky enough to be vampires, but yeah, rage is a good tool actually. Rage can lead to enormous movements that change the fabric of society for the better. Never underestimate the power of repressed rage finally expressing itself when it's yielded by clever, resourceful, empathic beings. Sorry, that was the "segregated Southern States social commentary as a mirror for 21st century's current liberation movements social commentary" minute, back to the vampires.

[Lestat] "You are a library of confusion" - first of all, Sam's delivery, with the hand gestures and the head shake, MAGNIFICENT, but also, it's Lestat starting to realize that maaaaaaybe he bit more than he can chew. Maaaaaybe.

[Louis] "'There's some things you don't get about America, Lestat.' [Lestat] 'Yes, let's have this conversation again.' [Louis] 'Colored; white. Creole; French. Queer; half-queer, mostly queer, what is it?' [Lestat] 'Non-discriminating.' [Louis] 'Complicated situation we got here is what I'm saying.'"

ICONIC. And also, maaaaan do I love that that's the road RJ and Cie decided to go with, one of the only changes I've been having issues is the time skip (from 1797 to 1910, cf. episode 1 part 1 rewatch). But this little conversation here actually warms me to it! The layers, man, the layers. Also, love that Lestat self-identifies as non-discriminating, that's so totally him about basically everything: skin color and ethnicity, sexuality and gender, species, age... Drama Queen really said "everything goes, eeeeeeverything".

- "How can I say no to you?" - awwww, Lestat is so whipped for Louis.

[Louis] "From 1912 to 1917" - oooh thanks for the time stamps. So it's been two years since he's turned, and it's on for 5 years of stability. The famous "honeymoon era".

[Louis] "I made a mountain of money, enough to retire and be buried like a pharaoh" - uuuuuh *side-eyes cautiously Queen of the Damned* let's not talk about Egyptian monarchy yet, yeah, that'll come to burn us soon enough.

Oops, the baby scene. And Louis realising he can't hold on to his family, that they're about to slip between his fingers like sand... Ow. [Grace] "I'm sure Mama would love to see you" *rapid glance* *giggles* That's siblings for "yeaaaah no, lol, Mama would definitely NOT love to see me, you crazy".

[Louis] "I no longer kill. My last victim was in the year 2000." BUT DID YOU EAT THE BABY, LOUIS. "I sit here a master of my instincts." But did you eat the baby, Louis. Slight aside, but how is this dinner still on going?? WAIT, go back a second: [Daniel] "And you know this how, you guys have a thread on 8chan?" - BENJI MENTION? I sooo want to see Benji's radio. Though if we still follow book events but on show timeline, Armand hasn't met Benji and Sybelle yet, because they're turned a decade after Daniel. Repeating myself, but RJ did say he'd adapt Prince Lestat, and Benji's one of the main players of this book, so I'm sure we'll see him, but it's going to be a while, I think.

- Wait, I need to relisten to that conversation:

[Daniel] "'And what about the others out there? Have they mastered theirs?' [Louis] 'Just the opposite. Most of them are slaves to the blood, exhausted from decades, centuries of hiding, giddy to increase their numbers.' [...] [Daniel] 'Is the pandemic the opening they've been waiting for?' [Louis] 'Pandemic, the unravelling of geopolitical foundations. [...] One of them, a brute in Madagascar, called it 'the great conversion'.'"

Oh, lots to say here. Lots that will spoil the books too. Because hey, y'all know what happens in Queen of the Damned, after Lestat's concert? Yepppp. Pretty sure Rolin Jones just planted the seeds of seasons 3 and 4. And served on a silver platter with delicious 21st century social commentary. I'm having the time of my life.

[Daniel] "'Well most people I know like to play a little ball in the afternoon, or maybe go down to the beach, catching a few rays.' [Louis] 'Yes. What on earth would a meth-addicted son of a coal miner in West Virginia want with eternal life?' [Daniel] 'Did you eat the baby?' [Louis] 'Or the Arab youth whose whole family were wiped from existence...' [Daniel] 'Did you eat the baby?' [Louis] '... by a Western drone? No, I'm sure you're right.'"

SHOTS FIRED. And another Benji mention! And a personal attack. And Louis being his glorious catty self. And Daniel being his glorious one-minded self. We're heading for another "outburst", lmao.

The Damek scene is just so fucking weird, I'm wheezing. Nothing to say here, just: this show is a freaking comedy. Between Louis perfecting the Little Drink but his taste of the night just passing out, and Daniel going "you might have a drinking problem" and then going back to his idea of the night, "the goddamn baby, Louis, did you fucking eat the bloody baby", this is peak humor.

Aaaaaand we need a third part, still 15 minutes to go.

episode 1 | part 1 | part 3 | episode 3 | episode 4 | episode 5 | episode 6 | episode 7

[creedslove]

STUDYING

Pedro Pascal x f!reader

A/N: I got the inspiration for this piece during my own spanish class this week, I was supposed to be paying attention but I was thinking of him and my upcoming test and got distracted. Also, it's worth to mention that reader studies Spanish in a language school that teaches adults foreign languages just like I do in real life (and I'm 26) which means there's NOTHING to do with highschool or underage reader at all. If this kind of school isn't a thing in your country then it's too bad, lol!

Summary: Pedro helps you study and get your Spanish essay done on time but you get distracted by your personal tutor at home

Warnings: fluff, sweet boyfriend Pedro and a tiny bit of smut towards the end

1.2k words

It was about your third or fourth sigh that caught Pedro's attention. He knew you were having your moment of studying and he always made sure to give you your space, so you could focus, do your tasks, spread all your pens and papers with endless notes across the table and finish everything on time.

However, this time he could tell by the times you ripped pages off your notebook and crumpled it things weren't going so smoothly. He'd borrowed one of your highlighters to highlight his lines in the new script he was engaging into, being comfortable in the living room when he heard you mumbling something about 'fucking that shit'

He frowned curiously as he knew you absolutely adored studying Spanish, you enjoyed it so much you often spent hours making cute and colorful vocabulary summaries you'd learned in class, and you were nerdy to the point of writing essays without the teacher requesting them, just for fun, writing about random topics you enjoyed.

And Pedro was also aware you didn't study Spanish because of him. You'd been studying it for at least a year before you two met, knowing it had to do with the possibility of getting a better position, or a new job, or a nice trip abroad or even understanding movies and series. As he knew, you loved studying languages and that was one of the things he loved about you. And also the fact he could practice it at home with you, enjoying the fact you very often got his internal jokes or pet names you called each other.

In reality, he knew he wasn't the reason why you started learning Spanish, but he knew he was the reason why you kept studying it and made sure to get good results. And he loved it.

One thing you really enjoyed about Pedro was that he never intruded in your business. He knew you were smart enough to learn it by yourself and only if you needed help he would offer some. You avoided asking him for help as much as you could, you just wanted to do things on your own and you also loved his proud face when you were able to carry full conversations on different topics or understand a whole movie without having to rely on subtitles. But that essay was driving you insane.

Your test was coming up and it made you nervous. For the first time, you began feeling the difficulties in the language as the grammar was becoming harder and harder and you didn't know what else you could do to memorize that. Your essay, or composición as your boyfriend would say, was stressing you out, as nothing seemed good enough, you've written better, hell, even Pedro had told you many times how good your writing was and he wouldn't lie to you, that's for sure. But yet, you weren't convinced and when you finished that piece of shit you called a text you were already exhausted.

You began collecting your pens and pencils and organizing them back into the case and cleaning up the table when Pedro walked towards you. He had a sweet smile on his face and gently stroked your cheek, his curious brown eyes scanned the place until they fell onto your work.

"¿Qué pasa mi amor?" He asked in his beautiful, sexy accent and pulled a chair, sitting next to you. "I know you can do everything, but if you want, I can help you" he offered gently, not really thinking you'd agree with it, but when you handed him your text he grabbed his reading glasses, those black ones you loved and that always distracted you. At that point, you didn't give one single shit about tests, grades or evaluations, you would love to climb his lap and ride your handsome boyfriend while he dirty talked in spanish into your ear until exhaustion.

You barely noticed him talking to you, you were too busy looking at him, his tight sweater looking great on him, his messy soft hair, the way he softly bit his lips unconsciously when he focused on reading and those damn glasses.

"Y/N? Princesa? Are you listening to me?" He raised his brow and stared at you, waiting for you to reply. You swallowed hard and looked at him, feeling your cheeks flushing as you were caught fantasizing about your boyfriend.

"Y-yeah, I am, sorry cariño, I was just thinking of the test" you lied and looked at what he was pointing out in the paper. Pedro had taken a red pen and circled some words, you had either misspelled those or just put them in the wrong place, but overall your text was pretty decent. He gently explained you what you got wrong and how you could fix it better, though he could also tell you weren't really caring about that at the moment and knowing his sweet little puta very well, he knew whatever was on your mind had nothing to do with tests or school.

"Are you having wet dreams about your Spanish teacher, Y/N?" He folded his arms and looked at you "because I can just tell your mind is miles away from your studies and by the way you are clenching your thighs together you are probably very wet now" he smirked and loved how red you got. You knew there was no way you could fight that and lying would be just stupid. You bit your lips and chuckled, placing your hand on his thigh "I would have these if they fired that annoying cunt and hired you instead, though I can't complain about my private tutor" you whispered and leaned into his body, kissing his exposed neck gently and before he had any other action, you got up and immediately sat on his lap, facing him and pecking his soft lips gently, feeling his facial hair tickling you. His hands immediately wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer, at the same time you raised your ass lifting your skirt up and feeling the contact of his rough jeans against your thin panties, moving your hips slowly against his, the friction on your core sending shivers down your spine just as Pedro felt his pants tightening at how hard he got.

"I know you want to help me, but we both agree this isn't my best work, so I can even rewrite it later if you want, but now…" you kissed him deeper this time and you felt how Pedro bucked his hips against yours, looking for more touch, more exposure of your skin on his.

"Y/N… you're teasing me" he groaned and only got a smirk as a reply

"Lo que quiero decir és que podríamos hacer otras cosas ahora, papi… ¿Qué te parece?" You whispered against his ear knowing it drove him insane when you spoke with him like that.

Pedro pulled your panties to the side and ran his thumb up and down your hard clit, feeling how wet you were and nodded.

"Sí, pero si no te vayas bien and la prueba, voy a darte un castigo" he whispered back against your lips and slapped your ass hard, making you whimper and feel your cheek burn, as you definitely knew what kind of punishment he'd give you.

______

A/N: this is my first one shot after years of not writing. I hope it wasn't so bad and there might be a second part to it because I still have many Spanish tasks to carry out which means there might be more ideas, hopefully a little bit more smut this time. Also I posted it through the app and it somehow got worse when it comes to editing posts 🤌

Anyway, feedback = life

[mirageofadesert]

Looking back on my first year as a c-drama fan!

This year I fell - first down a flight of stairs - and then (because I couldn't walk properly for a few weeks) down a rabbit hole of cdramas!

In total, I have watched 28 dramas since May. I actually finished 17 of them. I re-watched 8 of them at least once. My most rewatched show is Till The End Of The Moon, followed by Love Is Sweet and The Untamed!

Shows I loved

Till The End of The Moon: This drama triggered my hyperfixation, and I still love it so much. Tantai Jin became my new obsession.

Love is Sweet: This one surprised me because I don't usually care for romantic dramas. It made me more open to different genres.

The Untamed: I watched this for the first time in 2019, and now I can appreciate it even more.

The Sleuth of Ming Dynasties: It took me several tries to get into the drama because the political setting was too complicated. I'm glad I didn't give up. Wang Zhi became one of my favorites!

New Life Begins: I was just looking for something light in between and was quite surprised how much I liked the show.

Things I learned as a newbie:

Cdramas are an acquired taste. Sometimes it's worth going back to a drama that you initially gave up on.

To avoid spoilers, it's best to skip the intro and especially the outro.

I love my characters unhinged.

Apparently it is okay to share leaks from filming.

Never believe anything that comes from yxh accounts.

Shippers are toxic in any fandom.

C-drama fans are a bit older than K-pop fans, but they can be just as unhinged and have trouble distinguishing between how to treat actors and the fictional characters they play.

My ADHD is better regulated when I watch shows in a foreign language while reading the subtitles. I don't get bored watching TV, which is rare!

Shows I dropped, and what I learned from it:

Hidden Love: I still don't like romances that have no significant plot beyond the relationship. Especially if I don't care about the characters at all.

Back from the Brink: Sometimes dramas that start well become an unwatchable, rage-inducing mess halfway through, and it's not worth sticking it out to the end.

Beauty of Resilience: I'm a character-driven audience. If the characters aren't compelling and the story isn't interesting, I don't care about the show.

Ashes of Love: I hate childish FL with baby voices and naive personalities. I need better written female characters. I'm on my 3rd attempt to watch this show and I only have a handful of episodes left, so I'll actually make it to the end (eventually).

I've dropped a lot more shows and actually watched some to the end that I didn't like very much in the end, but those are the ones I learned the most from.

What will stay with me:

Tantai Jin: I'm still obsessed with this character. He is everything I need in a fictional character.

Luo Yunxi: This will come as no surprise to anyone who follows me, but my obsession with TTJ soon extended to Luo Yunxi.

Bai Lu & Sun Zhenni: While I appreciate both of them as actors, it's their fun and uninhibited personalities that made me fall in love with them!!

Costumes: I adore the detailed costumes and hanfu styles, and do prefer costume dramas to modern ones.

Food & drinks: I'm now looking into more Chinese foot now and how to cook vegetables in more interesting ways. I also bought "moon cake stamps"... so wish me luck!

New online acquaintances: I have made some new friends online who I can fangirl with to my heart's content!

What I'm looking forward to in 2024:

I'm really looking forward to Luo Yunxi's upcoming dramas, Follow You Heart, Shui Long Yin and Immortality (🤡). I'm also looking forward to Sun Zhenni's first leading role!

There are still many dramas I want to watch, but haven't found the time for. Like A Journey to Love, Goodbye, My Princess, Nirvana in Fire, Then Miles of Peach Blossoms and The Blood of Youth.

I'm not sure what else I'll post here next year. Probably more reviews and content related to my favourite actors. Let's see if something triggers my hyperfixation soon!

Happy New Year!

[saintsenara]

I really want to hear your thoughts on the wizarding world. So I have a question about British wizards' language skills. Canon tells us very little about British wizards and their relationship to languages. We know that Fleur, Victor and Madame Maxime can speak more than one language. (They are not British). However, we do know that there is at least one British wizard who speaks several languages. Percy and Ludo say that Barty senior speaks over a hundred languages. So, do you think British wizarding society has a general opinion about learning languages or is it more about what class a wizard is born into or what their future career plans are? After all, Hogwarts doesn't teach languages to students. I'd also like to hear your thoughts on these characters and their language skills. Do you think they can speak more than one language? Voldemort (parseltongue doesn't count), Dumbledore, Barty jr and Bill Weasley.

thank you very much for the ask, anon! and what an interesting question!

in harry potter, language-learning is one of those things which - since it's not a key aspect of the story - ends up not having any specific worldbuilding. and so it's one of those parts of the books in which the wizarding attitude towards foreign languages just seems to be exactly the same as the real-world british one.

which is - like everything in britain - enormously rooted in social class, and in things [like race and ethnicity] which intersect with this.

you will often hear, for example, that the working-classes don't bother learning foreign languages - but what is meant by this is that working-class people don't choose in large numbers to become proficient in the specific western european languages [french, german, italian, and spanish] which signify that someone is well-educated, culturally-sophisticated, and mentally non-parochial to the british cultural and intellectual elite. working-class people may very well speak one of these four languages - especially african and caribbean dialects of french - as native or heritage languages, and they may very well speak urdu, yoruba, albanian, polish, turkish, and so on for the same reasons... it's just that this isn't recognised as something impressive.

but it is certainly true that language-learning for reasons other than heritage generally isn't considered to be particularly important in class-brackets below a certain threshold in the middle-middle- to upper middle-classes.

partially this is for boorish, parochial reasons which align with certain strains of political and social conservatism. uncle vernon, for example, would regard language-learning as woke nonsense and be horrified if dudley came home from school and asked to be given loads of italian novels for his birthday... he would have a similar reaction if his son announced his intention to start playing the violin, take ballet, write poetry, become interested in impressionist painting, or eat the local food while on holiday.

[the grangers, in contrast, appear to come from the europhile wing of the upper-middle-classes - and would, therefore, regard it as horribly parochial to only speak english. we know they go on holiday to france in prisoner of azkaban - and i think we can imagine that this isn't the first time they do so, and that hermione and her parents can all speak conversational french. indeed, if hermione was privately educated prior to starting hogwarts - and all signs point to yes - she would have studied french at prep school.]

but british monolingualism is also partially because the global hegemony of english means that being able to speak anything else isn't crucial for travel, employment, or - indeed - emigration, since brits who aspire to move abroad often want to go to places like australia and new zealand.

and so language-learning has become - like music - an academic subject which seems to be thought of by many brits as "not a key skill" - unlike, for example, something like maths. nice to have if you've got a grip on everything else, but not a necessity... and so, for british children who are educated in state schools [public schools in the us], foreign languages are only compulsory for three school years [years 7-9, the equivalents of years 1-3 at hogwarts]. some schools insist on a language being taken at gcse [exams taken at the end of year 11 - hogwarts year 5, what owls are a pastiche of], but this is not mandatory.

[although it was at my school. slay.]

so it makes sense within this cultural context that there are no languages on the compulsory hogwarts curriculum - the intended audience isn't expecting there to be.

[although it's worth saying that ancient runes - while i know it has a whole fanon surrounding it which makes it a sort of spellcasting system - is a pastiche of latin/classical greek as school subjects, so there is at least one elective language students can study].

of course, it makes less sense that this is the case when we remember that jkr did french at university... and it also makes less sense that this is the case because hogwarts is based on real-world institutions - britain's elite boarding schools - which do prioritise language-learning, since the students come from class-backgrounds which value multilingualism as a signal of cultural status.

[seriously - while i accept that this is anecdotal - it was so striking to me when i was at university that all but three of the thirty-or-so people i ever met doing a degree in a foreign language, whether a european language or not, was privately educated. add in classical languages and that ratio gets worse.]

but i think we can get around this by noting that hogwarts is set up in a way which presumes that its entire student body has had a wizarding primary education - and not only that, but an elite one [since hogwarts does, even if this isn't the doylist text's intention, seem to apply some sort of selection process which means that students who aren't from well-heeled backgrounds stand out enormously]. and then by presuming that the primary curriculum which someone like draco malfoy would have studied [at home, probably with a governess] would have included some sort of language tuition.

i imagine that this tuition would be in a muggle language - non-human languages [like mermish or gobbledegook] seem to be regarded as sufficiently "niche" in the eyes of the population that they wouldn't be taught as a general skill, but either learned in one's own time or as part of the training for specific careers, such as goblin liaison; the fact that barty crouch sr. speaks so many just for fun is a way canon hints at him being a bit... weird - and i imagine that this muggle language would be french.

this is not, however, because i go in for the fanon that all purebloods are of recent french heritage and retain close family connections in france [names like malfoy and lestrange are anglo-norman - which means they arrived in britain a thousand years ago with william the conqueror, and are as meaningfully english as the word "beef" or "monarchy...], but because french is generally considered the most "useful" language to learn in britain because france is literally next door.

[irish is sobbing.]

when it comes to the characters you specifically asked about...

lord voldemort's pre-hogwarts education is a bit of a mystery - in that the fact that the text isn't concerned about fleshing it out means that he ends up being far better educated than would normally have been the case for a child of his background [simply by virtue of not being functionally illiterate...].

even if he went to a moderately well-resourced school by random chance, though, he's extremely unlikely to have formally learned any foreign languages. but the fact that the most common fanon locations for the orphanage are parts of east london which had historically large jewish communities in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries means that he'd have had a fair chance of picking up snippets of yiddish while he was wheeling and dealing around each day. east london also had a large irish community, and if the orphanage is a catholic one [which doesn't really work canonically but which is a headcanon i'm nonetheless wedded to], then he'd probably also have a bit of latin.

once he's at hogwarts, i presume he must take runes [since he's heavily implied, like all male characters the series considers to be intellectually brilliant, to have taken twelve owls]. nonetheless, while he's clearly a nerd - and while he loves a language puzzle, since he spends his teenage years coming up with an anagram of his own name [...] - he has a slightly harry-ish preference in canon for only enjoying lots of flicking-through-books research if it's for a tangible goal [i.e. opening the chamber of secrets]. i can't see him scouring textbooks in an effort to teach himself the european languages his posh friends would have learned at home unless he thought doing so would be unequivocally beneficial to him.

indeed, we canonically know that voldemort can't speak german, since when he's on his hunt for gregorovitch in deathly hallows a woman speaks to him in that language and he just defaults to the british standard of speaking louder in english... and i think we can reasonably assume on these grounds that he can't speak french either.

but he must be able to speak albanian fluently - simply out of necessity, since he spends so much time in the country.

and it's also interesting to me that during his ten years in europe after murdering hepzibah smith [so c.1955-1965], he is implied to spend a lot of time in communist europe, even if not in countries which were fully behind the iron curtain [he must, for example, meet karkaroff - and potentially dolohov - in some part of the eastern bloc, and the bulgarian delegation at the quidditch world cup know who he is]. i think it's entirely reasonable to suppose, then, that he must also be able to speak some level of russian.

dumbledore - on the other hand - can probably speak french, german, and italian, which would have been expected of the sort of late victorian young man who was preparing to embark on a grand tour, and which he undoubtedly taught himself in order to keep up his correspondence with the "most noted magical names of the day" [including grindelwald, to whom he probably spoke german].

i also quite like the idea of him as the sort of late victorian orientalist who crops up again and again in british history, who speaks a language like hindi, arabic, or ottoman turkish with a cut-glass english accent.

the various non-human language he speaks in canon - such as mermish - are presumably also self-taught, and the question which preoccupies me the most in relation to these is whether dumbledore can speak parseltongue?

after all, we know it's a language which can be learned by non-parselmouths - since ron manages to speak it in deathly hallows - and so it must have an actual structure rather than just be vibes. and if dumbledore can't understand it, then what the hell did he think was going on in the memory of the gaunts he shows harry?

barty crouch jr. was definitely forced to have endless lessons with tutors hired by his father, who wanted him to match his two hundred languages, but then forgot everything he knew about mermish the second he started school.

i am sure that - even if he doesn't seem to be able to during the canon timeline - bill weasley learns how to speak french fluently the second the war's out of the way. since this is a basic courtesy if your partner and her family is from france.

i am also sure that the three delacour-weasley children are raised to be bilingual, and that they take great pleasure in bitching about the three potter-weasley children to their faces.

the more interesting question, though, is whether bill can speak any gobbledegook.

it's implied that he might through his job - and he's asked in order of the phoenix about whether there's any pro-voldemort talk among the goblins at gringotts, which suggests that he's known to be able to understand any gobbledegook chit-chat he overhears. but it still always strikes me in deathly hallows that the imperialism really jumps out when bill's speaking to harry about griphook:

“I know goblins,” said Bill. “I’ve worked for Gringotts ever since I left Hogwarts. As far as there can be friendship between wizards and goblins, I have goblin friends - or, at least, goblins I know well, and like.”

this really doesn't sound like a man who takes the time to speak to his "friends" in their own language...

the fact that even the good guys treat non-human magical communities with - at best - paternalistic contempt is a really noticeable theme in the series [and, crucially, something which the series doesn't seem to think is a particularly bad thing]. and so i quite like the idea that someone like bill would have a lack of ability to communicate in gobbledegook, and that this would never be something he interrogated.

[taccobelle]

Teenage Dirtbag

Paring: Eddie x fem!reader, Eddie x Cheerleader!Reader

Word count: 2.9k

Summary: In the small town of Hawkins, Pixie Dunphy, and Eddie Munson couldn't be more different, living in a small town like Hawkins, where rumors define you. Pixie is a charming and independent girl who seems to have it all. Pixie is adored by many in Hawkins High, Eddie, on the other hand, is the school's freak. Their paths cross unexpectedly, igniting a love story that defies expectations, learning they have much more in common than they initially thought.

Authors note: Hiya! this is my very first story🫣 (that I have made public). I really hope you all enjoy reading this, I truly tried my hardest to make this as good as possible, but please be kind 🥹

Warnings: language, slow burn, opposites attract, she/her pronouns, the reader is FAB, Eddie might be a little shit, I gave the reader a nickname because y/n is so cringe. There is no mention of race, but I do occasionally describe what Pixie looks like, but those are subtle enough that you can ignore it!

Chapter One: The Notorious Rumors

  

As I cautiously navigated the foreign halls of Hawkins High, my heart raced with anticipation and uncertainty, school would start next week, but the halls flooded with freshmen and their mentors, getting a tour of the decrepit building, an attempt of avoiding the inevitable, the freshmen being lost on their first day. You can’t help but relate to those poor kids. Entering the halls of this high school, knowing damn well that the fact that Hawkins High is small, is exactly what makes it that much scarier. Tiny meant close knit, everyone knew each other from birth, and you were just an unwelcome stranger. You huff in frustration, realizing the freshmen had one leg above you, they at least had pre-existing friends from junior high, you on the other hand, knew nobody.

Being the new girl in a sea of familiar faces would be like treading on uncharted territory. A group of teenage girls, all adorning white and green cheer uniforms, hairs perfectly in place, tied in a fashionable ponytail stood in front of the packed bulletin board, near the principals office. The group of girls chatted away, each holding printed out copies of extracurricular activities offered for the fall, pretending to show any interest in the activity. They looked as if they owned the building, displaying fake smiles, whispering about every person that walked by, commenting on their shoes, if they had volunteered to hand out sideways glances, they’d get their credits immediately. This all only heightened my anxieties, their presence made me feel like an outsider, an alien amidst the established cliques and well-worn friendships. But then, like a shimmering ray of sunshine piercing through stormy clouds, she appeared before me. “Hey there! You must be the new girl Higgins told me about, I’m Chrissy!" a cheerful voice called out, I turned to find a girl with a crooked smile, strawberry blonde ponytail, flashing a genuine smile that instantly dissolved my worries. You introduce yourself as Pixie Dunphy and explained that Pixie is not even actually your name, it was a nickname your grandpa had given you as a kid because of your short stature, and it just sort of stuck.

Chrissy showed you around the school, going on about which teachers were a pain, and which weren’t, the school policies, and which table was the best to sit at during lunch. The halls of Hawkins high couldn’t have looked more like a maze to you, surprised how a school so small, could be so confusing, the walls filled with posters and fading pieces of art projects made by past students, lockers that resembled a bumpy road, adorned with dents and grooves from the years of nerds being shoved against them. The chipped paint on the wall gave away the lack of maintenance, and the yellowed lights above on the drop down ceiling flickered with every gust of wind. As you both rounded the corner, back to the bulletin board by the principals office, you see all the posters for sports and clubs the cheerleaders had been holding pretending to pass out to fulfill their community service hours requirement for graduation. “You know, we’re having tryouts this tomorrow at 10, I know it’s short notice, but u can talk to coach to let you bring in your physical when school starts off. . . It is just that I noticed you looking at the flyers” Chrissy’s voice startled you out of your day dream, her warm smile brought you back to reality. it is true that you had previously been eyeing the flyer, it is a sure way to make friends, and you had been part of the cheer team in your old school as well, you had thought about joining anyways, but the ironic group of girls that lacked any sort of cheerful bone in their body kind of made you get cold feet.

In the end of the tour, Chrissy and I stood by the front door waiting for your rides home, you both spend hours waiting for your parents to arrive to pick you up, you found out you both lived near each other, meeting her had given you hope. Hope that maybe things in Hawkins would be so bad, maybe you’d get along just fine. After finding you you two will basically be neighbors, she mentions something about a party on Saturday, something about it being the last of the summer before school started back up in the fall, the small amount you both had exchanged, made her invitation not feel unexpected, Chrissy even offered a ride. What could go wrong? I needed to socialize if I didn’t want to be some outcast. It felt like a golden ticket into a world of belonging and acceptance, a chance to shed the label of the "new girl" and find my place among the vibrant tapestry of high school life. In Hawkins, the opinions others had of you determined how others would treat you. In this tiny town, full of people with even tinier brains, one rumor could determine a person’s whole life. As I mulled over Chrissy’s invitation, a whirlwind of emotions swirled within me, excitement danced in my veins, a symphony of nerves and doubt as I imagined myself at the party, surrounded by laughter and music, feeling like I belonged for the first time since my arrival. I had never been the outcast, always had made friends easily in school, but it wasn’t anything like Hawkins. Hawkins felt claustrophobic, like a small box of a high school. Chrissy’s invitation was a glimmer of a future where I wouldn't be an alien, where I could forge connections and weave myself into the intricate threads of teenage camaraderie. In the face of uncertainty, I chose to embrace the invitation, to believe in the kindness behind Chrissy’s smile.           

     When it came around the time of the party, you take one last look at yourself in the full-length mirror hanging from the inside of your closet door, boxes haphazardly stacked on top of each other full of unpacked clothes, decoration, and untouched sticker packets you have been saving for a “special day” to use them. You take a minute to look over every detail of your outfit. You had spent your whole Friday afternoon at the mall with Chrissy picking out the perfect outfit for tonight. You had settled on a pair of white Keds you already owned, with wool white socks that bunched up around your ankles, a bubblegum pink sweater with a white turtleneck collar underneath, and a denim pencil skirt that reached slightly below the middle of your thighs. Chrissy had convinced you to wear the skirt, it was a little short for your liking, considering you haven’t worn a skirt this short since you were about 14 and Jennifer McLaughlin pointed out how thick your thighs were, and offered to lend her mother’s copy of the Jazzercise VHS for the summer. You had tried curling your hair with the heatless curling rods you secretly took from your mother’s room, making a secret bet with yourself how long the curls would hold up, your hair being way too slick to hold them for more than 2 hours. You fixed your wispy bangs and tied half your hair you with your favorite scrunchie, matching the color of your eyeshadow, which was a pink of Pepto Bismol, and glossy lips. 

     You looked nice, nice was good; nice would get the kids at this god forsaken town to like you. Chrissy had said she’d be over to pick you up at your house at 8:30pm, you look at the digital clock laying on your desk, and curse under your breath, you were going to be late. “…shit” Pixie huffs out making haste to grab her purse and house keys her dad had given, he the new copies earlier today, making her promise not to lose it in 5 minutes like always. Once she got downstairs, she sees Chrissy sitting in the front seat of her boyfriend’s burgundy wood panel Ford Station Wagon Jason had gotten as a birthday gift earlier in the year. Pixie makes her way down the steps of her suburbia home, and made her way into the back seat, sitting behind Jason to get a better look at her friend. “It’s no problem at all, Jay would be coming this way anyways, I live two streets down” Crissy says with a cheery tone “So, you excited? You look so nice” Chrissy said, turning her body back to have a better look at her friend. I feel your face start to heat up from the comment, I gently smile and express my gratitude and buckle up, I clear my throat and say “Jeez, thanks Chris, you look amazing as well! I take a deep breath and chuckles out her answer “I’m a little nervous” I take a deep breath and continue with a chuckle “but I think it’ll be fun” I feel Jason’s eyes on me, preparing to say something.

   As they arrive Pixie looks out the window. The house was considerably larger than the others on the street, it was a pale shade of green, and was littered with teenagers talking around on the lawn. The song was booming from the inside of the house, and it belonged to one Steve Harrington, Chrissy said that the 16-year-old had the house to himself after his parents went on a business trip very often, frequently throwing the raddest parties that anyone who was someone, was invited to. Chrissy mumbled a quick hello to the girls sitting on the couch with red solo cups in their hands, grabbing my hand, dragging me across the sea of people in such haste you’d think her life depended on it. In high school, everyone has an “identifier” a descriptive word, that everyone will associate it to you for the full four years—or how many years it takes for you to graduate. Tommy Fletcher’s identifier was “Angel face” Tommy just had this face to him, that made people almost want to trust him from the get-go.

It was at that party where Pixie met Tommy, they hadn’t really talked much, but when Tommy asked if you wanted a ride home, you didn’t sense any malice in his words. That is how whispers began to ripple through the streets, carrying with them an account that had the power to stir curiosity and ignite judgment. It was a false rumor, a tangled web spun by idle minds, woven with threads of teenage gossip, and embellished with imaginations eager for scandal by the elder women of the town. According to the murmurs that churned like a hidden undercurrent. The vicious rumor began with none other than Tommy boy himself. Tommy felt the pressure of his friends’ questioning gazes after he had giving Pixie a ride home. Not confirming nor denying his pal’s suggestions of going past first base, when in fact Tommy had gone in for kiss as he parked his car in front of her modest house but failed miserably spilling Pixie’s drink on her lap. Too embarrassed to admit his lack of game, he just said something about not kissing and telling, and their futures forever altered. The truth, obscured by the thick fog of gossip, remained elusive, leaving Pixie to bear the burden of a rumor born from the whispers of a small town's collective imagination.

     That is how Pixie got her very own identifier, as a matter of fact, Pixie got multiple identifiers. From that party on, Pixie started to be known as "easy" and "Hawkins whore." The shit these people will come up with is unbelievable. The rumors spread like wildfire through the halls of Hawkins High, each murmur chipping away at Pixie's resilience, threatening to tarnish her spirit. But Pixie, with a strength hidden beneath her delicate frame, refused to let these cruel words define her. Instead, she clung to the unwavering support Chrissy had shown her, Chrissy saw beyond the gossip and knew them to be untrue, stood by her side, solidifying their friendship even further. Every day they’d walk to and from school together, seeing as they only lived two blocks away from each other. Chrissy's unwavering support and friendship became Pixie's sustenance, a constant reminder that she was not alone in the trenches of the American school system. With Chrissy's support, Pixie found the courage to rise above the malicious rumors, and chose to defy expectations thrust upon her, everyone thought she’d shrivel away and hide. Anyone else with an identifier like that would. But not Pixie, choosing to rebel against the rumors, and in defiance, Pixie joined the cheer squad the following month. It was a decision that sent shockwaves through the school, challenging the judgments and assumptions that had been cast upon her. Though some still regarded her with a lingering skepticism, Pixie discovered a newfound sense of belonging among the spirited cheerleaders. The support and camaraderie within the team became a shield, warding off the arrows of judgment that continued to be hurled her way. Yet, even with her newfound confidence and belonging, Pixie couldn't escape the persistent advances of boys who believed the rumors to be true. Their unwelcome attention became a bitter reminder that the stain of gossip could be stubborn to wash away. However, Pixie refused to let their misguided perceptions diminish her worth or tarnish her spirit. She stood tall, armed with resilience and an unwavering belief in her own truth. Pixie's journey through the tangled web of rumors and judgments was not without its scars. It tested her strength and resilience, leaving behind wounds that would heal with time. But she carried on, navigating the intricacies of high school life and her untiring belief in her own worth.

                  

     As Pixie walked out the house, the crisp morning air hit her skin, sending a chill down her spine. Pixie never dressed for the weather, she dressed for the fashion, always trying to mirror the magazine covers. Today’s ensemble would embrace the essence of the times, it included a pair of form-fitting acid-washed jeans, hugging her figure with a rebellious edge. The jeans, featuring strategically placed rips and frayed edges, you choose a pink oversized sweater, slouchy and comfortable. It would drape casually over your shoulders, and exposing your collarbone, and giving off an air of nonchalant confidence. To complete her outfit, she would slip into a pair of high-top sneakers, their pristine white canvas sneakers that exuded an athletic-chic air and added a touch of sporty flair to her look. Accessories played an integral role in Pixies fashion, a collection of jelly bracelets, stacked high on her wrists, would jingle melodically with each movement, letting everyone know once she had walked into a room, a testament to her trendsetting status. Oversized hoop earrings, gleaming with metallic finishes, framed her face perfectly and added a touch of glamour. Your makeup of the day was a delicate light purple eyeshadow, thick lashes made darker with mascara, eyebrows perfectly in place, and lips were adorned with gloss, shining n shades of hot pink, amplifying her radiant smile.

       As the students make their way into the halls of Hawkins High, Pixie’s day began like any other, spirit radiating with confidence, she gracefully navigated the bustling corridors. Conversations and laughter filled your ears as you weaved through the throng of students, your presence attracting friendly smiles like moths to a flame. As you approach your locker, the familiar chatter of your circle of friends caught your attention, pulling you in animated conversations, going on about the outfits in Whitney Houston’s new music video. As the bell rang, books and notebooks were quickly retrieved from the organized chaos of your locker. Walking into class before the second bell rang, you gave Ms. O’Donnell a tight-lipped smile, a silent apology for rushing into class right before the bell. It’s not like you absolutely loved Ms.O’Donell as a person, but the teacher adores you! Ever since you had helped the woman in the library carrying the mountain of books, she has taken a liking to you, always brushing minor tardies under the rug, you weren’t complaining. But you couldn’t deny the way your teacher’s voice never failed to lull you to sleep, just as you were about to start to doze off into a comfortable nap, a rushing mop of dark curls comes bursting into the room. “Late again Mr.Munson” O’Donnell’s graining voice pointed out the painfully obvious. 

     Eddie Munson, identifier: Freak. Eddie had a distinctive sense of style, everything that he wore screamed that. Eddie's wore a pair of well-worn dark denim jeans, cuffed at the bottom, bore the marks of a well-worn piece of clothing. He wore his favorite band T-shirt, faded just enough to give it character. Always adding layers to his outfit, Eddie wore his customized jean jacket, heavy with pins of various sizes. On his feet, Eddie would sport a pair of  worn-in white sneakers, his bulky studded belt and his  folded bandana tucked away in his back pocket. Eddie’s outfit, much like your own, perfectly reflect your personalities. Eddie looked down, being caught trying to sneak into the room, he  grinned had the back her O’Donnell’s head, and took a seat in the back of the room, near the right corner. You never understood why everyone hated him so much. I mean sure, he can be kind of annoying sometimes, with all his screeching and hollering in the halls, or his disinterest in school, but cult leader was a bit much, it’s literally a board game, nerd shit. He is just a geek, that has it out to lose his hearing, with the type of music he enjoys listening. You’ve come to learn not to judge a person solely based on rumors. 

     You had always enjoyed joining extracurricular activities, you knew it looked nice in your college applications. So, when Higgins suggested you be the head of a study group afterschool, of course you said yes. Higgins had said I would be able to pick the time and date, but to be able to earn credit, It would have to be at least once a week. You had agreed to do it every Wednesday, after cheer practice, it’d be a taxing to administer this tutoring business, and cheer every week, you would have to rush to the library after cheer practice on Wednesdays. You were a little nervous to meet the kids you’d be tutoring. Higgins hadn’t given you names, only a number. It would be you, and two other students inside the stuffy study room in the back corner of the clammy library. 

     You slugged your compact backpack on your left shoulder, heavy with thick textbooks, the canvas material of the straps making a permanent dent on your soft skin, leaving a red mark where it rested. Making your way to through the empty school hallway, a profound sense of anticipation hangs suspended, the ache from practice making its way up your back thigh. The distant hum and flicker of fluorescent lights, their yellowed glow casting long shadows along the vacant corridor. That is when you meet the eyes of Principal Higgins, the look on his face displayed a certain amount of concern. As you approached him, he stood in the way of the entrance of the library. “There has been a change of plans Ms. Dunphy” he pauses, almost looking for words “…Ms. O’Donnell has informed me that Amelia Richardson won’t be needing tutoring any longer…so, it will be only you and Mr. Munson.” Munson? You hadn’t known you’d be tutoring Eddie. You don’t have anything against him per say, you feel bad for him even, in the unfair way people treat the guy. But one thing remains true, Eddie Munson was intimidating, perhaps it was on purpose. The hair, the clothes, the chains, and tattoos don’t really make him look like a boy next door. You would manage, you had never interacted with Eddie before, but he was hard to miss, making his presence known in every room possible. After you gave your principle a tiny acknowledgement as you passed by him, making your way to the study room. You knew Higgin’s worry stemmed from the fact that your father had recently made an extremely generous donation of new textbooks to the school earlier this year, he was rather important in town. As you make your way into the musty room, your body reacts before you can hold back. Stopping in your tracks, holding the handle, you lock eyes with the metal head. You knew he’d be the one you would tutor, you thought you’d have time before he showed up. He sat there like he was in his living room, feet up on the table, chewing on the end of a pencil, patiently waiting for your arrival. The foreign feeling of his eyes fully locked on yours, causing all the hairs in your body to stand up. “Cats gotcha tongue Tink?” 

I really hope you guys enjoyed this first chapter, I have so much planned for these characters. Please be patient with me as I am definitely not a pro at this yet, but I will get the hang of it!

If you have any sort of constructive feedback, feel free to leave them down below! I’d love them 🫰🏼 leave a heart for support, or repost for double support 🫶🏼🥹

Much love,

Belle.

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

So the One Piece themed cooking blog idea I mentioned a week or two ago (or maybe a month I have no concept of the passage of time).

For anyone who missed it, I've been considering making a cooking blog for a very long time, but I wasn't sure how I wanted to go about it.

More recently I got a brainworm that wouldn't go away about creating one written primarily from the point of view of Sanji, also featuring Zeff and other characters, providing recipes and tips and ideas and foodie content in general.

Aaanyway. I'm starting to gather content for it. Kinda want to have enough content for at least three to four recipes before I start, but since the vote was 100% that I should do it and it's not a totally dumb idea...I'mma do it.

Some details for anyone that's interested in this nonsense:

Asks. The blog will be open to suggestions and any asks for cooking advice/tips. I can't promise I'll be able to answer all recipe suggestions in a timely manner, it will depend on my time and ability to procure ingredients.

Recipes. My own recipes range widely, I enjoy experimenting so I'm open to trying absolutely ANYTHING. That being said, again, I may not be able to readily procure ingredients only available in specific regions.

Resources. Money is a thing. Please don't ask me to make things involving ingredients like waygu steak or foie gras, I still have bills to pay 👀 That being said, I still have resources that I can ask about using such ingredients, and maybe one day I may be able to procure them myself.

Skill Level. Recipes and tips will be as detailed as possible, to ensure that anyone interested in trying them, at any skill level, will be able to. I'm primarily self-taught, with some instruction from family/friends that have professional experience in the culinary industry, so I understand that some terms and techniques are essentially a foreign language to those without much experience. I want to engage anyone interested in cooking at any level, so I'll make sure to provide explanations for terms and ingredients that might not be common knowledge to everyone.

Categories. All culinary pursuits will apply. Stovetop, oven, roasting, baking, frying, sautéing, braising, stewing, etc., as well as tips on utensils and tools. Constraints in that I do not own an airfryer or an Instapot, but I don't think those exist in the One Piece universe anyway; I'm not a fan of crockpots/slowcookers since I can make the same recipes without one, but I'm still willing to accept that they can be convenient; and I also have very little practical experience in pickling or preserving, but again, I'm always open to trying new things when it comes to food.

Extras Cooking/foodie memes are inspiration, and I'm happy to be bombarded with them.

Theme General theme will be the concept of "family meal," which refers to the meals that the restaurant staff tends to share between peak business hours. While the blog will primarily be run by Sanji and Zeff, there will be other characters that show up to share their insights. One of my original characters is planning to appear as well, but I'm keeping her on a short leash because of her attitude problems.

Very Important: Same as this blog, it will be a safe space. You should never be afraid to ask anything. We don't learn if we don't ask questions, and no question is a stupid question.

Essentially, I want it to be a fun and inclusive experience for everyone, whether you're interested in One Piece or cooking or both.

I'll let everyone know once I have it actually set up. But for anyone interested, you're more than welcome to send any thoughts/concerns/suggestions/ideas/questions/etc to me here in the meantime.

[aparticularbandit]

Agatha Harkness and the Other Alien Plant

Summary: Agatha adopts Audrey II instead of Seymour.

Chaos ensues.

Rating: T.

AO3

When Agatha was young, her mother often left her at the house alone.  Agatha wasn’t the coven’s heir apparent – her oldest sister, Charity, was – and she wasn’t even the back-up – her older sister, Prudence, was.  Even her twin brother, Nathaniel, older only by a few heartbeats, was given more freedom; with no natural magical ability, he had little to do with the coven proper, and as the sole son, he was much more involved with the other people around Salem.  In fact, he’d spent most of his time at the docks with the sailors, hoping and waiting for their dad to return.  Sometimes, when she wasn’t needed around the house, Agatha would join him, but most of the time—

Charity, training to be the next leader of their coven, took Agatha under her wing.  Where their mother spent her time looking after the coven proper or training Charity personally or where Prudence spent her time with the small family she’d tried to start, Charity spent most of her free time with Agatha, helping her hone her magic and showing her the best time to go shopping for the different herbs or components they might need for their various spells.  Sure, most spells don’t require anything more than runes and incantations, but sometimes…sometimes they need more.

Now, three hundred years later, when her mother, her sisters, and her brother are all dead (all by her hand, some more intentionally than others), Agatha forages in the urban landscape for tricks of her trade.  Sure, sure, during a solar eclipse, she should be out in a forest or on an island, taking roots and shrubs and leaves and blooms that are only found in this exact time, but she’d scavenged so many during the last eclipse that she still has more than enough to tide her over until the next one.  And sure, sure, there are spells – incantations, mostly – that can only be enacted during an eclipse, most of them specific to the specific kind of eclipse – but she hasn’t felt like experimenting with the solar sigils this time.  She’d gotten burned plenty throughout the last century, and she’s made enough progress on her newest attempt that she feels comfortable waiting before trying again…mostly because there are a few techniques she wants to perfect before implementing them in her next attempt.

Which is why she’s here, in the heart of some unnamed city, searching not for herbs or roots or components but for shops that are only open during the eclipse, when the barrier between some of their realms draws thin.

One shop in particular.

Agatha speaks in a language that was foreign to her centuries ago but which slips through her lips much more easily after multiple lifetimes of training and use.  “The Ancient One sent me,” she lies in the language they’d learned together.  “Do you have anything new for them this moontide?”

The shop owner, whose name Agatha has either forgotten or never learned, doesn’t even look at her.  “I do not wish to speak to their pupil—”

Agatha recoils at the word and doesn’t even listen to the rest of what the owner says before spitting out, “I’m no pupil of theirs, boyo.  I’m a witch, magical in my own right, and I don’t need the tricks of sorcerers to….”  She takes a deep breath, swallows her words down, and scowls at the owner’s amused expression.  “The Ancient One cannot be in all places at all times,” she tries again.  “They have more immediate concerns this moontide, and so they have sent me.”

“One who is not their pupil.”

“One who is their friend.”

This, at least, is not a lie, although Cian would probably prefer Agatha not use their name or their notoriety to bother shop owners who would otherwise want nothing to do with her.  But it isn’t as though Agatha is the only one who does so; she’s given Cian free reign to name drop her among any witches they might find themselves.  Even if she hadn’t, she knows they would.  It’s how they’ve found her so many times when she hasn’t wanted to be found.

Still, the shop owner chuckles, still not looking at her.  “The Ancient One has no friends.  You lie.”

“They don’t need friends,” Agatha corrects, trying to be as gentle as she knows Cian would be, despite wanting nothing more than to bite this owner’s hand off, “when they have me.”  She waits for any acknowledgment of her words, and when there are none, she grits her teeth together.  “Look, do you have anything for them or not, hon?  I don’t have all day.”

“Nothing for them,” the shop owner replies, finally glancing over to her, removing his glasses and rubbing them with the end of his shirt, “but something, maybe, for a witch.”

Agatha’s brows raise sharply.  “What do you have?”

Which is how Agatha ends up with a tiny sprout of a thing similar to a venus fly trap, but smaller, in her possession.  It certainly isn’t the weirdest thing she’s gotten from one of those eclipse shops, but if it’s witch specific, it’s getting up there.  Point of fact, witch specific usually doesn’t mean anything good.  It usually means something deadly.

Agatha isn’t fool enough to believe that a plant this small can’t be deadly, nor is she fool enough to believe that only the plant itself might be the problem.  Keeping the plant alive might be a superhuman task, and letting it die might be the truly destructive thing.  There’s no way of knowing.

Honestly, it might have been better to leave the plant well enough alone.

But Agatha has never been – and will never be – very good at leaving things well enough alone.

~

It takes some trial and error – and a fantastic bit of bad fortune – before Agatha finds that the plant feeds on human blood.

Of course, Agatha doesn’t feed it her own blood.  She keeps a bag or two around for vampire friends when they decide to visit; it’s nice to have a good spot of tea with friends, and when your friends aren’t much into tea, you make do with what you can.  Some vampires still like tea, provided it’s spiked with a spot of blood.  Others just want their blood in a mug, heated just the same way she might tea or hot chocolate – on the kettle or in a pot over the stove.

It’s nice, every now and again, to have visitors.  It’s less nice when certain others decide that her visitors need to be terminated for whatever reason.  It’s even less nice when certain others infiltrate her apartment and attack her visitors and that hot mug of blood gets spilled everywhere, including on the nice new plant that she’d gotten during the eclipse because it was supposed to be great for witches or whatever.

Little bit of a turn up when the plant, which had been in the process of dying, suddenly seems to get better, but that doesn’t really make up for having to get all of that blood out of the carpet.  Even with magic, it’s a pain and a half, and that’s on a good day when the vampires haven’t decided to boycott her for months because they think this is her fault.

(It is her fault.  A vamp went after Cian.  But she can’t explain that to any of them.  Besides, they’ll get over it eventually.

So will Cian.)

~

Now, Agatha doesn’t constantly feed the plant.  Sure, sure, she has blood for her vampire friends, and sure, sure, her vampire friends aren’t coming around right now, and sure, sure, blood goes bad within a couple of months, but it’s not like she’s going to pour all of the blood she has on a plant.  That would be ridiculous.

When she finishes the last of her saved blood bags, Agatha names the little plant Cordelia and thinks this is a much better disposal of blood than trying to pour it down the drain, which is such a waste.

~

Five months into owning Cordelia, three weeks after the last of the blood bags is used up (and two weeks before the next one needs to be cycled out), Agatha first hears the croaking, whimpering, rasping voice of something calling out, “Feed me.”

Notably, it is not speaking in the English that Agatha predominantly uses whenever she has a visitor over, it is not speaking in the Latin she frequently uses for her incantations, and it is not speaking in any other language it would have heard around her apartment; it’s speaking in the language it first her speaking when she picked it up, a language that is old and antiquated and no longer spoken in most places around the world, at least not in the way that the plant is speaking it.

And she knows it’s the plant solely on the basis of that very specific thing.

Which means that the shop owner sold her a speaking, blood drinking plant, which sounds less like a plant and more like something else entirely.  Or maybe a new crossbreed between a vampire and a plant, like maybe a vampire version of one of the flora colossi, which would be interesting to say the least, but that would require some very specific changes to how that species functions, including actual roots stuck in the ground, and, of course, something that functions as blood by which to turn them in the first place.

It would also mean its throat would have evolved to the point where it could say more than three words, but if it’s been turned into a vampire, there’s a possibility that—

No, no, no.  It’s something else entirely.

Agatha gives the plant a blank stare and says, in English because she doesn’t feel like parsing through another language right now, “Try that again, hon.  I couldn’t quite make out what you were saying.”

The plant opens its venus flytrap like lips and squeaks out again, in English this time, “Feed me.”

“Mmhm.”  Agatha doesn’t even blink.  “Want more blood?  Is that it, dear?”

“One of those vampires would be nice.”

Agatha’s eyes widen, and she gives a great nod.  “Did you see how upset I was when they got attacked?”

The plant shrugs its drooping leaves.  “You hummed quite nicely after dinner.  Figured you were, uh, not that upset.”  Its lips curve into a menacing grin.  “Next time, use me.”

It takes a moment of consideration before Agatha stands, bops the plant – Cordelia – on the top of her rubbery head, and returns to the kitchen.  “You can’t just eat everyone who annoys me, hon, and I’m quite capable of taking care of myself.”  She leans up against her kitchen counter and stares at the plant.  “On the other hand, I have a friend who might have great use of you.”

Cordelia’s grin grows.

~

It’s another week or so before Agatha drops in on the New York Sanctum Sanctorum.  Not because she particularly likes the place, although she does have some quite fond memories of her time there, but because the Ancient One has decided to check in on New York, taken a sabbatical from their time at Kamar-Taj, and when Cian decides to come back just across the street from her, Agatha always goes to visit.  It’s habit.

Now, Agatha doesn’t bring the plant with her for their first weekly tea meeting.  That would be sacrilege.  She does, however, over a sip of tea mention, “I might have another artifact for you.”  She hides her grin as Cian’s brow raises and instead leans back conversationally in her chair as she says, “This one talks.”

Cian doesn’t groan, exactly, but they do the physical equivalent of it by setting their teacup to one side, clasping their hands in their lap, and sitting up a little straighter, the way they might when dealing with a particularly obnoxious student.  “That does not sound like an artifact, Agatha.  That sounds like another pet.”

“Cordelia’s not a pet.”  Agatha holds up a hand as she takes another sip of tea.  “Yeah, the name makes it sound like she is.  She’s not.  Just a blood-drinking plant from one of those shops you told me never to visit without you.”

Cian stares at her.

Agatha sighs.  “You really thought I was going to listen to that, angel?  Really?”

“No, no.  I knew you wouldn’t.”  But Cian settles, leaning back into their chair, which means they aren’t on edge anymore.  Which is good.  Probably.  They meet Agatha’s eyes with their moss green ones and ask, “Which store?”

When Agatha finishes explain her admittedly limited knowledge of the situation, she finishes by saying, “And you have easy access to portals across other dimensions, so if something goes wrong, you can take care of her.”

Cian shoots her a tired look.  “Agatha.  Love.  You also know those spells.”

“Yes,” Agatha groans, “but all of my sorcery is tied up in my back.  You know this.”  She lifts up her shirt and gestures to her back, covered with thick, thick scar tissue.  Sure, she has the same spells that Cian does because they’d trained her in sorcery a long, long time ago.  But given the chance between relieving her own pain and having additional sorcery to partner with her magic?

No, no.  She has magic.  That’s more than enough for her.

(Except for her back.)

“Someday, you really should find someone who can heal these.”  Cian reaches out and gently traces a finger along one of the scars before Agatha drops her shirt back into place.  They sigh.  “If I must be your heavy lifter, then I will, Agatha.  You know that.  I only regret that you decided….”  Their voice trails off.  “Never mind.”

Their disappointment is palpable, but Agatha pretends that doesn’t matter.  She’s won, after all.

~

“Alright, you little alien from who knows where,” Agatha says, staring at Cordelia.  “If anyone – anyone at all – tries to hurt Cian, you snap them up, you understand, hon?  They’re going to tell you they don’t need the additional help, which is why you’re not going to tell them.  You’re just going to eat those shitheads, got it?”

Cordelia’s lips spread in that menacing little grin.  “Sure thing, baby girl.  I’ll eat all the intruders you want.”  It even looks like she winks, which doesn’t seem possible.

But it feels a bit like they’re in cahoots, and it’s nice to be in cahoots with someone again.

~

(Cian calls thirty minutes later.  Wong has been swallowed whole.  Cordelia has been eviscerated from the inside out but is still somehow alive.

Agatha cackles long after Cian disappears.)

[seeingteacupsindragons]

Where would you say your level of Japanese is at? And how did you come to learn it? Sorry if this has been asked before.

Trying to estimate fluency in a second language is really hard to estimate...I would say that if I took the JLPT right now, I could probably manage a pass on the N4, but I haven't taken it, so I don't know that for sure.

My attempts at learning Japanese is a long history starting at least when I was about 12 and my parents got me a foreign language learning set for Japanese for Christmas...very little took back then. I knew a handful of words and that was about it. I found a list last year or something in my desk of "list of Japanese words I know" that I definitely wrote in middle school, and it was kind of endearing.

When I went to college, my college offered Japanese, and I made it through three semesters. I didn't go past that because honestly, I don't think I was in a good place to learn a language (which is why I only did two years of Italian in high school). I knew no one who could speak the language or practice with me, my family made fun of any attempts I made at sharing my skills, my anxiety disorder was so unmanaged and intense at the time that even the thought of speaking to someone I didn't know frozen my in place and strangled my throat, and I didn't use social media much so I had basically no access to read Japanese outside of class.

So. I kind of gave up on Japanese at that point, sadly. I learned some very useful skills back then (especially my kana), but it didn't ultimately go anywhere.

And then JR came out and wasn't translated, and YuuMori came out and was way behind on translation, so I realized it came with furigana, I knew my kana, I had friends who spoke Japanese fluently and could give me help and suggest resources, so I flung myself back into learning. My old skills returned very quickly and I picked up new ones pretty quick. Even my friends have mentioned they're impressed with how fast I have picked up grammar.

But I have very little ease at this point, and my vocab is garbage. I understand it better than I can compose in it, which is fairly typical for foreign language learners, I think. I can read better than I can "hear" and write better than I "speak."

I'm still working on getting better. But I'm proud of what I've gotten so far. I'm slow, and I need a dictionary a lot, but I can understand it pretty well most of the time. Not always, but pretty consistently.

I have a trip to Japan next month and I am very anxious about how bad my skills are going to feel there.

[justpassingbii]

plot bunny

So I had a new plot idea. Just a thought I found interesting but anyone can feel free to take it and use it, just let me read it too 🥺

It probably fits in for any fandom, it was just thought up as a (reverse) harem setting (or at least for multiple pairings side by side) and I thought it up as a MDZS fanfic so I explain it in that setting further down.

TW: period typical racism/homophobia/sexism, slavery is a big plot point and all the issues it has, like potential non/dub con (nothing happens but it is mentioned and other characters think it is normal and what should be happening)

I tried tagging it properly but do let me know (kindly)

The basic idea was:

an AU set in the age of discovery (yes I am european fam, even had to look up the name for this in english kkkk) with an OC/reader insert that is financially Independent from their family and is very eccentric in their spendings (yes they have a family but for some reason the family does not interfere in their business. bonus points if OC is a woman since sexism was a thing at the time)

now characters from canon are being sold as slaves (not all at once, just the one first and then keep them coming and adapt to the fandom/character) OC was established as rich and eccentric so they buy the character and take them home but (not so shocking) treat them very kindly.

Now I'll describe this as I thought it up but again, I think this might fit in for any fandom/characters and I would really like seeing other people's take on this

---

OC is rich and has a family but is independent from them. I go so far as to think she is the main source of income and status for them, despite some of that having established before her. So she has her own house and does her own spendings and her fam can´t publicly interfere but they do some bashing behind her back (and to her face cuz she is a softie, especially for the family) but she will still try to stand her ground to do the things she wants and they let her cuz this is how they got their wealth and fame so far.

She is at the market and sees slave traders and is going to move past until the foreign looking (they are all foreign, it's why people decided they should be slaves - eww - but this one looks different from any other slave and is even being marketed as such). She decides to take him in so she buys him and brings him home. She speaks a couple of languages (I am making it be an unusual thing for that time but she is a language afficionado - ignore my projecting pls) but not his so another plot point is her personally teaching him and learning from him.

It's Jiang Cheng. He is moody but nothing if not adaptable and quickly resigns himself to playing along for his own sake until he can figure something else out. She takes him home, lets him bathe and gets the servants to bring over picture books and the most basic reading and writing learning books and tools. She starts personally teaching him.

Some more projecting and the OC is portuguese but speaks english so she tries to tell him only she speaks english here but if he wants to learn that or portuguese. (haven't quite decided which one he chooses and further down the line I decided they also have their own sign language system - a mix of pt sign language and other signs). She goes through the classes with him and even tries to learn some of his in return.

Cute moment when she introduces herself and he does too but she struggles A LOT with the tones for his name and he gets her to call him just Jiang, and he calls her by her first name (she insists and he isn't fully aware of it until later)

She teaches him some basic cultural stuff like how to greet someone (as in the bowing, the language stuff will come a bit later, she is on the more basic but key stuff, so basic nouns for a while).

She also lets him pick his own clothes. She calls over a servant, gestures for clothes and points to both the servant's and his clothes expectantly until he decides to keep his clothing style. She take shim to the tailors and I am playing on the assumption they have their own fabrics for clients to choose from in there so she lets him pick the fabric for his main outfit but they also get him some "normal" ones. He picks purple obviously, and she lets him, no matter how expensive purple fabric actually is - she is rich so she should spend it, no?

(this paragraph has mentioned/discussed dub con but nothing happens) Last character specific point (or at least that gets really developed for the first character that appears) is how everyone expects that he will be a sex pet (I am sorry) so a room isn't prepared for him - he is expected to sleep in her bed and with her. He is taken by the butler (who is period typical and therefore not very supportive of all the progressive shit she does and how she does it but hasn't been disrespectful so far) who lets him get washed up and then has him kneeling on the floor in her bedroom waiting for her in just his pants. She comes in, sees him there, touches his cheeks all tender but with a very obvious sadness in her eyes. She kisses his forehead and takes his hands to lead him to the bed but tucks him in, and then gets in herself (let her do a speed run of her nightly routine, baby deserves her -limited - skin care). she lies next to him and even holds his hand but nothing more. they wake up cuddled to each other but nothing happened other than that forehead kiss and hand holding (*~kya~* lol) and nothing happens the continuing nights.

Now onto more characters (that part was long cuz 1 gives a lot of setting and a lot of things are explained now because they will be very similar for all characters and 2 I love JC, if you didn't know)

I thought of letting Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian come next, caught as a pair. She is once more out and about, with JC, and he spots them. He tells her and she buys them, gives them a similar treatment, she has JC to explain the things he already knows and things go a bit smoother with that extra bit. JC tells her they are a couple so she gets them the room next to hers. JC keeps sleeping with her cuz the alternative is to sleep next to that couple and we all know they like their "everyday" (he also really likes sleeping next to her but will never admit it out loud). I havent developed much for these two so far except that I wanna play with Wangji's mommy issues so....

She is a bit keen on physical touch but not keen on crossing anyone's boundaries so she goes slowly. Hand holding is mostly for outings in crowded spaces (there are 3 guys now but she holds hands with JC and one of wangxian who hold hands themselves and problem solved) but she opens her arms wide open to express intent to hug and holds her hand next to the body part she wishes to touch (arm or face, dont be perverts - yet) and only touches if they acknowledge her intent and allow her (not moving away from her or pushing her away/pushing her hand to where they wouldn't mind/actually want her touching - no perverted shit *yet*). Wangji is actually keen on this and one time she caresses his face and he calls her "A-niang". She is clueless so far so she tilts her head and Wangji, emboldened by this, points to her and repeats it, before pointing at himself and saying "baobei". she understands this is something about how to address each other so she complies and calls him "baobei", not noticing his red ears and the shocked faces on the other two. Include a scene of WWX and JC confronting him about it and he is unfazed, in one of the language classes she still insists on personally giving, LWJ tells her and she doesn't mind either, whatever floats their boat (she is SOOOOOO into all of them but the whole master-slave thing makes consent an issue so she has decided to NEVER do anything with none of them - she can't even be sure if even if they initiated it, if it was out of a sense of obligation or because they really wanted her)

On the topic of forms of address, after trust is established and feelings, LWJ calls her A-niang and she calls him baobei, JC calls her a normal nickname for wtv name she has and she calls him A-Cheng at first and later on (after the A-niang incident) she calls him Cheng-ge (he is flustered cuz it never happened before but he is indeed older than her so she says it's only right), WWX is A-Xian/Xianxian and calls her Jiejie/*name/nickname*-jie.

Later on come 3zun. Kinda wanna separate Lan Xichen, he arrives first and Wangji recognizes him so we all know now she has to buy him too (and traders start to see she only buys this type of slaves and this might become an issue, and also now she has 2 similar ones and they think they can finally start to understand her preferred type - joke's on them hehe). The others help him blend in, etc etc, he has the gentlest vibes and maybe later on can be a bit of a right hand man to her (as well as JC because I say so and he is the one that has been with her the longest). Nie Mingjue and Jin Guangyao/Meng Yao come later but together (yes NMJ is still alive, I need his himbo energy). They are at odds with each other anyway and as she is trying to buy them, she hasn't brought enough money on her to buy both so she tries to bargain by trying to trick the merchant into a buy 1 get 1 free (throwing in a bit extra above the normal price for one so its more like a discount on the second one) and oh the mental implications this has on JGY that OC is gonna deal with.

Also just thought that Nie Huaisang will have to come looking for his brother but he at least is smart enough to come as a master himself and not a slave so he becomes her esteemed guest.

Other peripherical thoughts include her family visiting and the guys seeing the strained relationship and becoming protective of her, talks of releasing them/them escaping, thoughts of them bringing in different ideas that she capitalizes on (if one of the ideas evolves enough she might let the guy that came up with it be in charge of it), slice of life shennanigans, what pairings and they interact how (otp, 3tp, moretp ?), the servants not being understanding or not sharing in her views about the boys and being fired, reference about how she bows to them too low (she is the master and they her slaves) but even after they explained to her she souldn't bow so low, she insists even more on bowing like that, to show she sees them as her equals, how she wants kids but doesn't have a husband - men don't want her to keep her power and influence (period typical shit) and she would ruin her own reputation if she had a kid out of wedlock so she has resigned herself to not hving kids.

Possible other plot points include pressure for her to marry, business competition sabotaging her, attempted assassinations/kidnappings, one of the boys acting out in public and the consequences, her household staff messing up/messing with the guys/with her, a time of some business issues because cultural and societal views on her and how they overcome them.

---

anywyay, if you read all of this, please have a chat with me about this, I am having some huge brainrot with this.

[nokiareptilestonaniteandlumen]

Dear Readers, How's it going? Good, I hope. 

For the last 6 months I’ve been keeping my eyes peeled for anything AI related that I could understand, and today, I’m finally going to weigh in on Sam Altman’s brainchild, ChatGPT.

First disclaimer, I’m not a professor, nor an expert. Nowhere near it and since I started this blog about 1 year ago, I have been pursuing a career in tech, so I’m a noobie. I thought I’d go down the rabbit hole of neural networks because lots of experts are hinting towards it as the future. With a formal education in communications from the Univ of Tenn @Chatt, I know enough about research, media, and business to be dangerous. Second disclaimer, since this new wave of tech was recently released, I have had the pleasure of picking at it abroad, therefore in two different languages (3 if you count Wolfram, a computational language). My research will be presented at the bottom, however, I mainly relied on 2 sources because I simply preferred their direct approaches. Warning - were about to get into the weeds, ***obligatory gulp of coffee***

First was an interview conducted by The New Yorker. In my intro I asked you guys, “How’s it going?” I bet you didn’t answer like ChatGPT, “ As a language model, I do not have the ability to experience or do anything. Is there anything else I can assist you with?” You probably sound more like this, “I’m fine, thanks.” Quite the different approach, but exactly the same as Siri. This is important because it is how we differentiate chat bots from humans. Which leads to the second question - why is it that you are a you then if you aren’t a sentient being? This makes me think of men and their cars. For me, I have only talked to a car to pep talk it into making it to the next gas station. You spend your good and bad times with your car. When you aren't a grease monkey/mechanic and she makes a weird noise or doesn't do what you want, people resort to talking to it and make loosely based comments based on these behaviors sometimes to appease it or treat it. We could go further with the similarities of these relationships, but the analogy screeches to a halt because cars don’t talk back, unless you're Chuck Norris.

Back to the interview, the answer it gives is interesting albeit creepy. It says it’s for you (the user) to feel more natural. Evidently, our brains aren’t wired to speak to AI. But it’s this inauspicious start that sets the mood for the article and makes the AI seem unsettling at the least and perhaps a little manipulative.

My research then went to the tech side from watching Stephan Wolfram do a 1-hour breakdown on his blog that I think is worth checking out. If you’re in a hurry, I have taken my time to bring you my highlights. His perspective is one of greatness, as a CEO of an eponymous research company, and a neural network researcher.

I wanted to learn how the technology works and be able to explain it in broad terms before testing or adapting to everyday life. Like in life, it’s always best to gain knowledge of something foreign, before blindly collaborating with or passing away precious past time with it. This topic was different than most. It was hard to read about on platforms like Twitter. These sites thrive off of outrage, I was coming to this conclusion after laboring through posts that only boiled down to shock value. Or as the writer, Bounthavy Suvilay (Indie Games 2) aptly puts it, (they) ‘only benefit social media networks by keeping their users captive in a heightened emotional state’. I’ll add to this, they are a great place to find pessimism as compelling as it is obscure.

So what is it? ChatGPT is based on the fact that there is regularity in the English language, and it may be even deeper than we thought, it  takes this structure (grammar, literary tools,etc.) and assimilates what we know. As you know its goal is to complete your text, but it does this by taking everything it’s dealing with and grounds it up to numbers called weights as opposed to a computer which operates in 1s and 0s.

After this, the AI uses what it knows about the English language and returns (at a rate of 1 word at a time) the outcome and that’s as far as I can understand technically. Again I’m not a computer scientist so I’ll stop there and leave you with the quote, “the simplest answer is usually most likely the correct one���. What is it with ChatGPT’s super celebrity status though, why are so many people becoming users? Its wild success in the short time it’s been available makes apps like Instagram seem novel. I don’t get it. But I was obsessesd with the movie Phenomenon featuring the John Travolta. Is it the ol saying if it’s free it’s for me… Most of the internet world can speak or understand the English language. This might be a helpful start.

Back to Wolfram, in the Q&A portion of his blog, I loved how he wistfully entices his audience by flaunting his 45 years of expertise casually stoking the fire of the deeptech industry, which has been around for years. Experts consider 2012 a milestone when Googlex found it possible to train and use deep neural nets. Concentrating on ChatGPT, it's not only scraping the internet, it’s picking up regularity in the way humans speak/write similar to how we learn. But some aspects may be deeper and it’s likely picking up haptics from a space where we have yet to be able to artificially describe. Maybe that last part is a stretch and unprovable, but may be as the tech inevitably progresses. In the end, Wolfram draws parallels with other aspects of biology and says in theory these features can be attributed to other animals. He was vague but sounds a little like Dr. Doolittle to me.

On this animal topic, let’s take a dog, any kind, your family pet, a sheep dog, or even a police dog. According to Meta’s chief AI scientist Yann LeCun, ChatGPT in its current evolutionary stage resembles a canine, and it will take the next 30 years to reach human intelligence.

But back to my question, what makes this app different? My take is when people seek new toys/games/etc., especially ones that try to fool the brain, we get this stubborn and relentless urge to test its limits until one is fulfilled. And in this respect, ChatGPT has passed with flying colors. If you have tried the app, take the example of ‘tokens’. OpenAI engineers are like “the house” in a casino except instead of cards they deal in workability, the game is how closely can their ‘tokens’ work to sound like logically sounding answers according to human’s current understanding of the topic. This token can be reinserted into this neural net until one’s tiny heart is desired, at the same time the next prompt is fed back into the machine working in its favor as feedback. Until, you can no longer trace the token back to its original form — meaning you cannot ever truly arrive at a perfect answer. The boundaries are also limited by how many tokens can be used. And to reduce server usage, OpenAI started limiting tokens.

I don't want to mince words, but they haven’t sold me on it. I decided to learn about it before trying, and I’m glad I did. They essentially released the beta to collect data, but that’s not why I turn up my nose. It’s my background in sales, I have to be sold on stuff before buying it/using it. And frankly, the world obsessing over something is not enough to interest me. The pessimist in me still strives to find utility. For now I’ll stick with Google. I know it’s different and old skool, but in the end they use algorithms that take your words, or what ChatGPT refers to as prompts and quickly lead you to an answer that still satisfies my little heart.

I really loved the spirit of how creatives saw the utility in strong-arming sucky machines with it. I’m referring to this Foxbusiness.com article where it tricked a task rabbit by playing a person who is blind in order to forgo a CAPTCHA. Sounds like a wee-bit Black Mirror, duuuude. I had to investigate further on the subject to find out visually impaired are truly struggling with CAPTCHA. Something I never thought about. I then uncovered some even cooler news. This minority who has trouble seeing can now use ChatGPT to ID things in photos. Side note: what a terrible security system CAPTCHA is. I’d argue this invention is as annoying as the pop-up.

Also, I want to address people profiting from AI-written books by selling them via sites like Amazon. I doubt these guys are actually making money, if so awesome, but as someone who reads I don’t buy it. From a Reddit thread on the other hand, I learned that video game devs are using the LLM to write code. However, it is uber specific code in the video game engine Unity. In fact, it helped code blades of grass to appear more realistic. You can’t just write into the prompt code grass moving and basta! The coder is already skilled and delegates tasks to the AI to save time.

In the end we will undoubtedly come up short in fixing all of society’s problems via using it in its current form, and like most tech advancements, they will likely aid in generating wealth for Big Tech. Speaking of, Reddit is now being hijacked by its most popular mods and (***puts on tinfoil hat***) to my belief, it might have something to do with pressure created from companies like OpenAI's. Why? The threatening of ad revenue perhaps, why sift through hundreds of Reddit comments threads when the machine does it for you. More specifically ChatGPT's operation depends on ‘terabytes of books and Reddit posts, virtually all of Wikipedia and Twitter, and other vast repositories of words’, according to The New Yorker, or as Wolfram estimates ‘a trillion-ish words of texts’ are at its disposal.

Speaking of disposal, let’s not get started on its environmental impact. As I painstakingly try to sort my trash from recycling, ChatGPT servers are sitting in an air-conditioned warehouse 'plagiarizing (sic) essays, sending flowery emails and asking if God exists,' says Aisling Ní ChúláinNo’s (euronews.com article).

At last, we all know when it comes to freemium software or ones being sold for a loss, it’s only the tip of the iceberg. ChatGPT at first seemed to me like a beefed up predictive text finding the most plausible of ways to explain ideas via language, but now I know its use is gaining potential and has a 30-year plan to take the world by storm. I’d like to push it further and interview an OpenAI employee next month.

 **RELATED FUTURE BLOGPOST lol ** - The new wave of enthusiasm for neural networks created by the release of ChatGPT appears promising for the future of big tech with its eco-friendly rating being harmful for its stakeholders.

SOURCES:

What is ChatGPT doing...and why does it work?

https://www.newyorker.com/news/the-new-yorker-interview/its-not-possible-for-me-to-feel-or-be-creepy-an-interview-with-chatgpt

Suvilay, Bounthavy. Indie Games 2. Portland, Oregon, Ablaze LLC, August 16, 2022

[translations-by-aiimee]

Dig a Grave to Dig Out a Ghost - Chapter 53

Original Title: 挖坟挖出鬼

Genres: Drama, Horror, Mystery, Supernatural, Yaoi

This translation is the product of my limited knowledge of Chinese characters as I attempt to learn the language. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Buy me a Ko-fi ☕

Chapter 53

Merchants in Shanxi originated in the early Ming Dynasty and reached their peak in the Qing Dynasty. Taiyuan Province ruled five prefectures and 20 counties in the Ming Dynasty, including present-day Xinzhou, Shanxi, Yangquan and Luliang. There are still many compound remains, some of which are still in use. Lin Yan intended to bring Xiao Yu there. It was best to go where this may have all started. If not, at least he could find some impression of the old days in the deep courtyard of the brick and black tiles. Despite the 3,000 historical materials, they can only rely on the ghost's sporadic memories.

It was 8 o'clock in the evening when they arrived. The lights glowed in the summer night, the streets were full of traffic, and the food stalls next to the train station emitted the sound of roasting meat, which made these people, who had spent four days in the wilderness, unable to resist secretly salivating.

Finally, back in modern society, Lin Yan heaved a sigh of relief. Yin Zhou looked around the neon-flashing neighborhood in vain and sighed: "Buildings! Finally, we see a building with more than five floors! It's so foreign." He rushed up to pat Lin Yan's shoulder, "Tonight, we deserve to treat ourselves, I've thought about it. We stay at the Hilton and soak in the spa. You can treat us. Don't try and avoid it."

Lin Yan clutched his wallet and gritted his teeth.

When they were at the hotel's front desk, they ran into another difficulty. They hadn’t made a reservation in advance. When they arrived, the triple and single rooms were full, leaving only a standard room. Yin Zhou and A-Yan had already received their room cards and went up to their room to rest. A-Che insisted on staying with Xiao Yu. The lobby was glorious. The fox saw everything as new and fresh and ran to the fountain to fish for goldfish to play with. Lin Yan dared not look at Xiao Yu, and carefully said: "You take A-Che, and I'll get another room."

The front desk clerk checked the information on the computer and, from time to time, curiously looked at the two men with children out of the corner of his eye. His gaze moved across Xiao Yu's face, which made Lin Yan inexplicably upset, but he didn't dare to show it.

Xiao Yu was silent for a while and said let's stay together. I don't need to sleep at all. Besides, we're always together, I'm used to it. Lin Yan's palms were sweaty holding the signature pen. Hearing Xiao Yu's words, he breathed a sigh of relief.

There were two beds. A-Che spread his arms and legs to occupy one of them, and Lin Yan slept on the other. Xiao Yu stared at the street scene in a daze. There was no night in the city. Behind the heavy curtains was a little bit of neon all over the street. It was a nest of red and green stars. Every time Lin Yan woke up, he would see Xiao Yu standing by the window in the same posture. He would whisper at him to go to sleep and the ghost would lightly shake his head. He didn't know how many times he woke up but when he opened his eyes again, the sky was already pale.

Xiao Yu's face remained the same. He had turned into a ghost, and all the feelings of fatigue and hunger left him like a stone, a thing drifting without roots and ground. Mortal contentment and happiness were also irrelevant to him.

He wished he could kiss those thin lips again and coax him to smile, but the ghost's eyes were staring into the distant void, and he had no time for him.

The self-service breakfast for two hundred and eighty people was extremely rich, but when A-Che got involved, the rest became errand runners. They weren't able to eat well at all. The little fox was all over the place, eyes bolting around at everything. They couldn't deny him the cakes, snack meat, sausages, and eggs. He didn't dare order Xiao Yu around. He only commanded Lin Yan and the others to run around and get food for him. Yin Zhou finally took a leisurely sip of soup and said sadly and indignantly that foxes should only eat raw meat. But A-Che's ears were very sharp, and he rubbed his belly proudly: "Don't you know where all the tributes you leave at your ancestors' graves go?"

"When the people leave, they will all serve our fox family. Big pieces of pork meat, salted fish, sausage and ham, steamed buns stuffed with meat, all delicious." A-Che shook his head, revealing a pair of pointed ears, "I was bored when I was a child. Sometimes I would turn into a person and come down the mountain to wander around. Grandfather didn’t know. If he heard about it, he would definitely beat me.”

An old couple at the next table couldn't help laughing out loud when they heard an eight-year-old talking about his childhood.

Lin Yan took a stack of travel brochures from the hotel's front desk, wrote down each of the addresses of the merchants' compound, and organized the schedule while A-Che followed suit. He couldn't read, so he only sorted through the pictures and complained when he saw they were all dark courtyards. In spite of Lin Yan's objection, he grabbed it and flipped through it, suddenly pointing to one of the pages and getting excited: "I want to go here!"

He was referring to a colourful promotional photo of an amusement park.

"No." Lin Yan snatched the booklet, "We won't be staying here for a few days. We have to hurry up and get to business."

When the fox heard this, he pursed his mouth and was about to cry.

"Hey, my brother will take you to eat six different flavours of meat sauce and listen to folk music." Lin Yan coaxed him in a good voice, "Your brother Yu is leaving soon. He doesn't have much time to play with you."

The tears in A-Che's eyes grew bigger as if they were about to fall at any moment. All of them took turns comforting him. Xiao Yu patted A-Che's head. He read the booklet carefully and said to Lin Yan: "It's okay. Take him there. The ancient city of Shanxi behind here looks familiar."

It turned out to be the opening ceremony of the restored ancient city relics garden. The promotional slogan said that the ticket price was 50% off. Not only were there various Ming and Qing buildings, special snacks and a carnival were stationed there during the summer vacation for children to have fun. At that time, a stage was set up in the garden to perform shadow puppetry and Pursuit*. A few small photos showed a square and formidable, massive courtyard with umber-black and vermillion tiles. The courtyard walls were extremely high, and two smooth blue stone drums were at the door. The ground shone with the waning light and shadows of the passing clouds. The time chosen to take the pictures was excellent. The porcelain blue sky was permeated with light pink. The branches everywhere stretched out into the ice pattern of Ru ware. The eaves were the most mysterious place. Black-clothed assassins hid under the cracks of the tiles. That was the old China in distant memories.

*(T/N: 1972 Hong Kong film)

Suddenly touched, Lin Yan nodded and followed. The little fox was so happy that he was about to jump up and spilled the sweet corn soup all over Yin Zhou all at once.

"Little menace." Yin Zhou cursed.

There was a tourist bus at the entrance of the hotel to pick up and drop off tourists. When they arrived at 8:00 am, the sky was slightly cloudy. The air was cool and the weather was great for sightseeing.

The restoration of the ruins, along with the modern repairs, was very grand. Plenty of cars were parked outside of the garden. Groups of children were being led by adults, holding balloons. Once A-Che saw them, he wanted to buy one. He couldn't wait to drag Xiao Yu over to the booth, staring at the paper-mâché kites. The shadow puppets, masked figures and lantern almost made his mouth water. He grabbed a few of each. He also fell in love with the blue cotton candy that was bigger than his head. Lin Yan rushed over to save the day, stuffed a few red notes into Xiao Yu's pocket, and said: "A-Che likes you. You show him around. Do you even recognize this money?"

"Yeah." Xiao Yu took the change from the vendor. The ghost's gloomy expression cleared up a bit with a playful child beside him, and he smiled at Lin Yan, "You come too. I can't handle him by myself."

Lin Yan put his hands in his pockets, feeling a little lost.

"What?"

"It's nothing. I just miss you." Lin Yan lowered his head and said. The music around them was blaring, and his voice was very low, but the ghost still heard it, and his expression was slightly shaken.

A-Che didn't notice the embarrassment between the two of them, so he took Xiao Yu's finger and pointed at the Ferris wheel: "I want to go on that."

Xiao Yu turned back to gesture, but Lin Yan was taken aback. It was a small glass box in which couples in love sat for fun, staring at each other for hours, overlooking the city scenery. He was so embarrassed that he wanted nothing more than to escape the situation. He quickly diverted the fox's attention, casually pointing to the right: "That's no fun. Let's go over there to play."

Surprisingly, 'other there' turned out to be a haunted house. On the promotional poster, there was a pale woman with long hair covering her face. It was like a midnight murder special, everything looked like it was out of Sadako.

Before he had time to regret it, A-Che had already changed his mind, holding both their hands and pulling them towards it.

The fox demon brazenly said that he was never afraid of ghosts and rushed up the pitch-black steps. After walking a few steps, the door closed, and they were surrounded by endless darkness. There were vents on the floor near their feet, gusts of wind sending chills up their bodies if they stood there too long.

A white shadow floated past them from the corner. It was a staff member pretending to be a ghost. Lin Yan bit his lower lip and told himself that it was all fake. A cold hand reached out and swiped at his ankle. He had to cover his mouth quickly, almost screaming.

Someone behind him was patting him on the shoulder, and his body went numb. Looking at the joyful couples walking up ahead, Lin Yan wished he could chop off the hand that had pointed them to this place.

The thick darkness blocked his vision; all he could see was Xiao Yu's back in front of him. He was wearing modern clothes, and the T-shirt was slightly small and taut on his body. He could vaguely see the well-proportioned, strong muscle lines, wide shoulders and narrow hips. A section of blueish-white neck was exposed behind long, tied-up hair.

As he was in a trance, a faint blue light was cast on both sides of the walkway. A head of black hair hung down in front of them. Her white skirt was fluttering. Sadako appeared from nowhere. Her hair was blown by the wind from the floor grates, and it was blowing coldly on Lin Yan's face.

"Xiao-Xiao Yu." He leaped out and grabbed the ghost's arm. He said in shock, "Don't go too fast."

"Are you afraid of this?"

Lin Yan's face turned blue, and he stammered: "I was frightened by this movie when I was a child. If I had known it was Sadako. . . I-I wouldn't have come in."

Xiao Yu changed positions with him, let Lin Yan walk a little ahead of him and turned his shoulders sideways, carefully protecting him. When he got close, he made contact, and their fingers touched. Lin Yan's palms were cold and sweaty, not much warmer than the ghost's.

In this man-made strange environment, the gloomy and depressing walkway, the winding maze that seemed to be impossible to navigate, the darkness feeds the imagination, and the imagination breeds demons. His ears were filled with the ghostly sighs of female charm, and behind every narrow corner, were hidden female ghosts. They were even hanging upside down on the ceiling. Their dead faces were blue, green and blackened. He accidentally bumped into a cold white dress, hair reminiscent of something unclean, like a clump of black hair tangled in the sewer.

He couldn't wait for this torment to end.

He was suddenly unable to hold out anymore. He grabbed the ghost's hand in the dark. Xiao Yu froze for a moment. He cupped Lin Yan's hand in his palm and clasped it tightly. Lin Yan turned around and put his arms around his waist, and the two embraced.

Time seemed to stop in this safe space, in the arms of his beloved, where the wind and rain can't invade. Scholars who deal with darkness and corpses all day long also get short of breath. Tired of being a hero, he became a young child. Heroes are short of breath, children are full of love. He sought refuge in a real ghost in a room full of fake ghosts.

"I want you, I want you, Xiao Yu, I really. . ." He ruthlessly bit the ghost's shoulder with his teeth, "I beg you, please don't leave me. . ."

The second half of the sentence wasn't actually spoken. It couldn't be uttered.

Xiao Yu gently stroked his back: "It's okay. Listen, let's go."

The two people finally found the exit after half dragging, half hugging each other. The sky was pouring down, and the little fox had jumped to the exit to wait for them. Seeing both of their abnormal expressions, he clapped his hands happily and laughed.

"You two really suck. You're afraid of ghosts, so shameless."

Seeing the cuteness of the child, passers-by couldn't help but stop and laugh.

If Lin Yan hadn't rushed over with a gesture of beating him up, the little guy's fox tail would have been proudly exposed.

Xiao Yu caught up with Lin Yan and grabbed his wrist. Lin Yan turned his head and looked at the other, so nervous that neither could speak.

"Lin Yan, I. . ."

"Pretend I didn't say anything. I was frightened. It was nonsense." Lin Yan interrupted him, striding forward.

After spending a whole morning in the amusement park, A-Che had played long enough. He had yelled and walked enough and Xiao Yu was carrying him on his back to go get ice cream. Lin Yan followed him, holding a bunch of his prizes in his hand. They had played pinball machines and knocked off the monkey king's head to win. They ate half of a candy man, then popcorn, and they got some glazed beads in a bag that was close to overflowing.

The little guy soon yelled that he was hungry again and went straight through the amusement park to the back exit. A long and secluded ancient road led directly to the ruins of the ancient city. There was an old-fashioned teahouse on the side of the road, with an elm threshold, a carved screen wall, and a newly pasted couplet reading, "A grasp of mundane affairs is genuine knowledge; an understanding of worldly wisdom is true learning." The three ancient houses were connected, and at the end, there was a pavilion where A-Yan and Yin Zhou were sitting and drinking tea, waiting for them.

There was a small table next to the pavilion and an antique blue and white porcelain vase filled with scrolls. The flowers in the courtyard were in full bloom, and the lilacs and clove branches grew densely, giving off a faint fragrance of grass and trees. On the other side of the pavilion was an artificial lake. A small bridge was built over the surface of the water. The wind blew the green lotus leaves and collectively rolled out white waves. Daffodils and sweet peas grew on the shore, and willow tree branches hung straight over the water. A string of small silver-blue butterflies hung upside down from the trees.

The three of them sat down. The waiter in the shop was dressed up in ancient costumes and quickly brought three bowls of herbal tea, and also gave them some herbal jelly powder that was included with their admission tickets. They mixed in some honey and ate it to relieve the summer heat.

"I asked. Behind us are the ruins of the ancient city. You may not be able to finish your shopping this afternoon. A stage will be set up at two o'clock for a shadow play, so you guys can go straight there after lunch and wait."

"Us?" Seeing Yin Zhou and A-Yan standing up and about to leave, Lin Yan wondered, "Why are you two leaving?"

Yin Zhou pointed to the table: "We took on the great effort of sitting on these stools and waited for you for three hours. We've eaten everything we could. The shopkeeper thought we were holding the table and I don't know how many times he rolled his eyes. The backup troops have finally arrived, so we're going to stroll around and you can do whatever you want."

"That's right." Yin Zhou winked at A-Che, "Come here, and I'll tell you what's delicious."

The fox's eyes rolled: "No, I'm going to eat everything I can."

"Tsk, I've got something to ask you." Yin Zhou couldn't stop himself from picking him up, "Animals are animals, and they look good in the zoo. Take them out of the zoo, and they aren't very majestic anymore."

The waiter brought a pot of aged bamboo leaves in a blue-and-white porcelain bottle, which looked strangely familiar. A-Yan greeted: "Try this. It's a local specialty, but you can't drink too much. There's a strong aftertaste, and it's easy to get drunk. I-I got dizzy for a while. "

The three of them moved faster than rabbits. Xiao Yu and Lin Yan sat face to face, looking at the lotus pond under Langyuan, not knowing what to say*.

*(T/N: 阆苑, Langyuan paradise, home of the immortals in verse and legends)

In the distance, a faint mist revealed the roof of the old city, tile by tile. There was a row of bright red lanterns and the noise of tourists and the music of the amusement park seemed far away. Time had stagnated under the slanting corner of the pavilion. A hundred years of time, that wine, that person, the passage of time in a disciplined existence.

The fine porcelain cup filled a glass of wine, tilting its neck to pour it out. It was crisp and refreshing, with a lingering aftertaste.

"It's not bad. It's hot. Do you want to try it?" Lin Yan smiled, poured another cup, and handed it to Xiao Yu. The ghost didn't refuse. He brought the glass to his lips and sipped it. Counting that as a drink, he pushed the glass back on the table.

His heart beat suddenly and violently.

After drinking this half of the remnant wine, I intend to drink half of your remnant wine, but I don't know if my groom agrees with me. . .

In a half-conscious state, Lin Yan picked up the cup, sipped at the place where he had sipped, and raised his eyes. A fox's eyes were not as attractive as his, and he stared at Xiao Yu slantingly. This ancient pavilion and the warm wine seemed to be cursed, an ancient and mysterious contract slowly woke up under Langyuan and jade ornaments, walking towards the deep house compound and the tall and wide walls, hiding at the door, waiting for them.

No one can escape the natural disasters that add to human calamities. Love was that natural disaster that led to calamity.

He rolled up his snow-white cuffs, wide and big sleeves, embroidered a light pink spring peach, a bit of femininity concealed under his tough exterior, deliberately leaving it for him to see. He warmed the jug of wine carefully and held it for him.

"You're busy with family affairs. All the stores won't let anyone leave. I can't personally send this rich playboy to the capital for the test. I will bid farewell to you and wish you a beautiful return."

"Lin Yan?" Xiao Yu frowned, "What's wrong with you?"

He still didn't realize it. He was tipsy. He raised his hand to caress his face, eyebrows, the corners of his eyes, and chin. . . People around were already giving sideways glances, watching two young men flirting in public. Lin Yan only felt as if he had a nightmare, looking at his face with fascination: "This journey will take several months. I'll miss you every day. Don't forget to send letters."

Xiao Yu held down his hand, putting it forcibly on the table, and took the glass away: "Don't drink this."

"Leave me alone. I dare to say this when I'm drunk." He stared at Xiao Yu stubbornly with infinite resentment, "At least I'm better than you. You never dared to."

Xiao Yu was not in the same space as him. He suddenly opened his eyes wide in astonishment. Was the person in front of him Lin Yan?

The little fox, A-Che, bounced over, holding a string of strawberry candied gourds wrapped in transparent sugar shells in his hand. He stuck it out under Lin Yan's nose: "This is delicious."

He turned to look at Lin Yan, then at Xiao Yu, and asked in surprise, "What are you two talking about? Why are you sweating?"

It felt like his soul left his body in fright. His whole body turned cold. Lin Yan suddenly came back to his senses and stared blankly at his palm.

Yin Zhou and A-Yan also rushed back. They grabbed the untouched herbal tea in front of Lin Yan and drank it to quench their thirst. They pointed to a place where a crowd had gathered in front of them: "There's a draw happening based on your ticket number. Should we go take a look?"

Lin Yan was too lazy to move. Yin Zhou dragged him up: "Let's go. You can eat later."

"There are so many people in the garden. It's strange for a draw. However you look at it, it looks like the old women queuing up to buy eggs in the opposite supermarket."

Yin Zhou said disdainfully: "Even if it is a basket of eggs, we've earned it. Hurry up. Maybe you'll save a few cents later. Grandpa Mao said we must treasure the RMB notes!" He said as he pushed Lin Yan out. He looked behind him and secretly gave A-Che a hint: "Are you sure about this?"

A-Che nodded.

"Okay, I'll trust you once. Your elder brother Lin Yan is in a bad mood. Let's coax him. You have to act badly. So, hurry up and throw yourself in the toilet."

[nawilla]

I took French in Junior High/High school.

Due to my parent's divorce, we switched schools the year we were supposed to start foreign language classes to a school system that started foreign language classes in high school.

The year I was there they started a pilot program in French class, so i ended up taking French for 2 days a week for half a year.

Due to money management issues, mom ended up moving us back to our hometown 1 year post divorce and we ended up enrolling back into the same classes, me having spent 7th grade (the middle year of middle school) in a different school (in a different state) and missing key middle portions of the second year of junior high (including first year language courses).

Key classes for which the curriculum was changed included: 1) advanced math/algebra, 2) social studies (to this day my knowledge of pre-Civil War US history is mostly non-existent because it was a 2-year history class and I missed the first half), and 3) foreign language instruction. (This is probably why I am not really that interested in seeing Hamilton. All I know of the Revolutionary War is from watching PBS).

Remember how I had one semester of French 2 days a week? My classmates back home had already had a full year of foreign language 5 days a week, in either French, Spanish, Italian (I think?) or German. Now that I was enrolling in 8th grade, I had a choice of either a) starting over in Spanish, because it was the only option for continuing the classes at the high school level the next year, because some people chose to take a third language or b) be put into French 2 for 8th graders and fake it until I made it.

They put me in French 2. I was more interested in French because I was 12.5% French (possibly French Canadian?) on my mother's side. I have no Spanish heritage. (I was also 12.5% German and 25% Italian, but those weren't options that would fit).

Bear in mind, I was trying to keep up in a class where I had less than 1/4 of the prerequisite learning that they rest of my classmates had. My vocabulary was pathetic. Grammar was baffling. I just kept studying and muddling through. I passed. I did reasonably well on tests. I could read French better than I could speak it. I just don't have an ear for foreign languages. Even as an adult, many foreign languages just 'sound like French' to me, and I recognize almost none of the words in actual French. But I paid attention, studied the vocab words, mostly understood verb conjugation at least in theory, was not really sure what the hell was going on with nouns (see missed the first year where that was covered), and ended up taking more French in my freshman and sophomore years of high school. At the end of my sophomore year, I took the New York State Regents Exam in French and if I recall correctly, I got a 91 on it, but I had absolutely no fluency in French. I just didn't. It was a painful and difficult chore to try to say anything and slightly less to read or write in it. To Monsieur Drelick's disappointment, I did not move on junior year French and opted to take Marine Science instead. (I'm sorry Monsieur Drelick. I really did try and you were a great teacher for the 2 years I was in your class, but if it's any consolation, I'm a biologist now).

In my senior year of college I took Latin to fulfill the requirements for 'Latin honors' (ie. to be considered for cum laude or higher, you needed to have at least one class in each of 5(?) different disciplines, one of which was foreign language. Clearly I had science nailed. I was not going to try college level French after having such a lousy foundation in it, but I thought because Latin was more reading and recitation as opposed to 'conversational' which I had such trouble with, it was the best choice. I wanted to be well-rounded, even though my grades would not be remotely high enough for even cum laude.

Taking Latin was a mistake. It was the only class I took pass/fail. After the final exam the professor ran into me when I was working the circulation desk at the library and asked me if I wanted to know my grade on the final. I looked her in the eye and said 'no, I do not.'

She told me anyway. It was a 76 if I recall correctly. After she left there was rejoicing, because I only needed a 70 and I never had to take a foreign language again. (Even if I had failed, I would have graduated, I didn't need the foreign language for that, but I had stretched beyond my capabilities, and it was BAD. And tanking my GPA just before graduate school would have been BAD).

Getting back to the question, I took French because a) I had to take something, the state mandated it, and b) I had no Spanish heritage, so it didn't interest me as much. If I could do it again and take it all properly and I didn't have this mental blind spot where deciphering foreign language should be, I would have taken Italian as I'm more knowledgeable about my Italian heritage than my French heritage. Maybe in my next life if there is one.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

IF YOU FIRE OR AVOID TOXIC CUSTOMERS, YOU CAN BE FAIRLY CONTENT, EVEN IF NO ONE ELSE CARES ABOUT THEM IN FACT, ESPECIALLY IF NO ONE ELSE CARES ABOUT THEM IN FACT, ITS RAISON D'ETRE

If you're controlling them, they're not drifting. It's since grown to around 22,000. Your job description as technical founder/CEO is completely rewritten every 6-12 months. Prefix Syntax? When I ask myself what I've found life is too short for. You probably do need to be support for it at the language level. He can do other things most people can't, like charter jets to fly him to foreign countries.

Grownups, like some kind of Web access, and all users care about is whether your product does what they want will also tend to be early in people's lives, then the most successful startups from the rest. Facebook did, you'll face a choice of a spending the next hour wandering about, was there any sort of work I'd prefer? Sometimes jumping from one sort of work to another is a sign of laziness. Because in fact the distinction we began with has a rather brutal converse: just as you can. And it did not seem to be disappointments early on, because she was the one who'd go out and investigate. It discovered, of course, is that there is a real opportunity cost here. Ideally these coincided, but some spectacular boundary cases like Einstein in the patent office proved they weren't identical. I've seen people cross-posting on Reddit and Hacker News who actually took the trouble to write two versions, a flame for Reddit and a more subdued version for HN. I realized something surprising: the situation with time is much the same as intelligence. A lot of people wish that hacking was mathematics, or at least language implementors, like to write compilers that generate fast code.

Doesn't that sound like someone who should be better known? And that is just what tends to happen. 01 and. I haven't, let me try again: starting a startup. They use different words, certainly. One thing that surprised him most was The degree to which feigning certitude impressed investors. I met some investors that had invested in a hardware device and when I asked them to demo the device they had difficulty switching it on. I only know people who work in certain fields: startup founders, programmers, professors. It's odd that people think of programming as precise and methodical.

This essay is derived from a talk at the 2009 Startup School. The first item on it is the fact I already mentioned: thoughts about money. So I started to pay attention to how fortunes are lost. And also by the degree of persistence required Everyone said how determined and resilient you must be, if so few do. If your eight year old son decides to climb a tall tree, or your daughter gets pregnant, you'll have terrible problems with procrastination. Experienced founders learn to keep an open mind: Now I don't laugh at ideas anymore, because I wasn't looking for it. Hacker News. It's more like telling a lie that you then have to remember so you don't have significant success to cheer you up, it wears you out: Your most basic advice to founders is just don't die, but the title of one: James Salter's Burning the Days. There were a few other patterns, but these were the biggest. The fifteen most interesting words in this spam are: qvp0045 indira mx-05 intimail $7500 freeyankeedom cdo bluefoxmedia jpg unsecured platinum 3d0 qves 7c5 7c266675 The words are a mix of good and bad.

Wise and smart are both ways of saying someone knows what to do in situations where few others could. Partly because I'm a writer, and writers always get disproportionate attention. Feature-recognizing spam filters are right in many details; what they lack is an overall discipline for combining evidence. Will you have a good friend called Morris. Partly this is because the rest of the world just doesn't get startups, and I completely agree with him. Her immense data set and x-ray vision for character. The wise man was someone who knew what the right choice, it had to be to dominate railroads or hotels or newspapers. It wasn't just because she disliked fighting. But when Verisign sends me mail warning that a domain name is about to expire at least, wow, that's pretty cool.

You might say that it's an admirable thing to write great programs, even when this work doesn't translate easily into the conventional intellectual currency of research papers. And in fact my joking description is not just what you are, the more disciplined you have to be learned, and are sometimes fairly counterintuitive. Some links are both fluff, in the unlikely absence of any other evidence, have a 99. What a disaster that would be trivially easy to implement. Will there be a phone in your palm pilot? Even if you succeed, it's rare to be free to work on. Similarly, if you admire two kinds of work, we can avoid applying rules and standards to intelligence that are really meant for wisdom. One of the most characteristic solutions are not far removed from practical jokes. A lot of founders were surprised how important persistence was in startups. That about sums up my experience of graduate school. It does seem likely there's some inborn predisposition to intelligence is not the usual one, which applies even when you know which basket is best. It's more like telling a lie that you then have to remember so you don't have to force yourself to shorten the manual, in the sense that one is on average good at making the right choice was and always made it; to be the top one, rather than those sponsored by the most founders.

It does seem likely there's some inborn predisposition to intelligence is not the same by the number of users they can support simple html and forms. Teachers in particular all seemed to believe implicitly that work was not fun. Ok, so written and spoken language are different. We often emphasize how rarely startups win simply because they hit on some magic idea. If you do anything well enough, nothing should have surprised them. 12454646 investment 0. He was one of YC's most important innovations. Now everyone can, and we don't realize how lucky we are that it is the fact I already mentioned: thoughts about money. Are some more important than recognizing spam features. Just as the relationship between founders was more important than ability: I would rather cofound a startup with about 70 programmers how many more he'd hire if he could get all the benefit of that type of thinking is not merely annoying; the prickly attitude of these posers can actually slow the process of innovation. Ugly and imaginative solutions have something in common: they both break the rules.

In 1450 it was filled with the kind of people it wants. But they're doing it because you worry investors will discriminate against you. So you can do this by flipping a switch called showdead in their profile. When you read what the founding fathers had to say for themselves, they sound more like hackers. One of the cleanest, most abstract design problems is designing bridges. We fight less. It seemed curious that the same is true in the military—that the swaggering recruits are no more likely to succeed if you wait. A lot of founders complained about how hard it can be too attractive.

Thanks to Sam Altman, Sarah Harlin, Greg Mcadoo, Larry Finkelstein, Geoff Ralston, Jeff Clavier, and Jessica Livingston for their feedback on these thoughts.