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I want u to know that every time I see ur art I smile and giggle and look at each piece for atleast ten minutes each!!! Also can u pretty please draw more fem mercs!!
Awww thank you so much!!!! ;___; That is so sweet ajjdjdjs
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This article is genuinely insane. I learned to read at the same time and it was completely different. I was taught to sound out the words and if I came across a word I didn't know, they did suggest we use context clues to figure out the meaning, but it was also made clear that that was not a perfect solution and the best option is always to look it up. But seriously, just a memorizing? That is inside.
I taught English as a second language for over ten years. In order to become a proficient reader in English, most kids will need to be explicitly taught phonics. To become proficient in Japanese, you need to learn radicals.
Three-cueing is essentially crutches that help you get by but let you down eventually. It's very common when learning a foreign language, I misread kanji sometimes because I pattern-recognize based on context instead of really looking. The solution is to do some proper studying, but I don't wanna.
It's also interesting that this sort of contexual confabulation and pattern-recognizing is how LLMs work. Not sure what to do with that.
Absolutely fantastic article, but I do want to say that this...?
... Is absolutely terrifying in the context of all other anti-intellectualism happening right now. This guy is STILL pushing his 'observations' while denying evidence that it doesn't work.
#the part where he says it doesn’t matter if a child reads horse instead of pony bc the meaning is the same is.. particularly dire 💀#it’s immediately obvious that this doesn’t work as soon as books don’t have pictures in them ???
Good thing that there aren't any texts where subtle differences in meaning are important or anything like that.
quick question why does your cat command you to print something on the printer
he really likes to watch the printer print. It seems like he thinks there’s some kind of creature in there that I have the mysterious power to summon that he can then hunt for sport?
he sticks his entire arm inside the printer and breaks it if I don’t put some kind of physical burrier between him and the printer but like he purrs so loud when it starts printing and will beg harder for people to print things than he will for treats.
he just loves hunting the printer so much. he even tried to climb inside the place the paper comes out of the printer when he was a kitten.
No matter where he is in the apartment if the printer makes a noise he sprints full speed. He also knows which button to press to get the printer to print like the ink levels info and alignment sheet, so you have to make sure it’s off or locked up or he will print nonstop himself and then attack the printer and jam it.
is it inconvenient that my cat is obsessed with the printer? yes, but damn if it’s not also adorable.
I don’t actually have a ton of photos of him sticking his whole arm in there though because stopping him from jamming the printer is usually a task that involves all of my arms and also all of my roommates arms.
Thinking about the post because I had to unplug the printer today because he broke into the closet and printed the info sheet 3 times in a row and did bite me when I tried to stop him
The face of a boy who is sulking because I expelled him from the printer closet.
the good news is that my cat is so happy, the bad news is that my sticker cutting machine that I got recently instils the same curiosity and lust for violence in my cat that my printer does so no matter what I do I will not know a moments peace.
No longer able to put up even the weakest opposition to the strange charge, local man Dylan Barwell was reportedly too tired and defeated Tuesday to fight a new $14.99 fee on his phone bill. “Oh great, now I have to pay this?” said the utterly broken 33-year-old, ground down from years of customer service calls and failed refund attempts to the point that it scarcely crossed his mind to take action against the unexplained charge.
okay but mangaken's james x james art made me think of it. what if instead of (or along with?)meeting maria as a creeyp sexy reminder of his sins james also met a creepy sexy past james as a reminder of his sins. would love to see that ficcy if it inspires you
(@mangaken's incredible James/James Silent Hill 2 fanart)
I am thrilled to have an excuse to write weird James Sunderland selfcest; thank you for the prompt!
-
There’s someone leaning against the railing in Rosewater Park.
James tenses up every time he sees something moving here, expecting another monster. But that’s – that’s a human, isn’t it? “Excuse me, I’m looking for—”
The stranger turns around, and James forgets what he was about to say. It’s a man, he’s – familiar, James can’t put his finger on—
“Can I help you?” the man asks, smiling.
There’s something familiar about his voice, too. Have they met?
It hits James an instant later: this man looks like him. He knows that face; he’s seen it in the mirror. It’s just—
He hasn’t seen himself smiling for a long time.
“Is something wrong?” the man asks, his smile fading.
“I’m—” This stranger isn’t commenting on their resemblance. Has he not noticed? Would it seem strange to bring it up? “I’m – sorry, I’m looking for my wife, my name is James, she – she died three years ago, but she sent me a letter, and—”
He’s too disconcerted to think clearly; he’s not presenting this information in any order that makes sense. The man’s expression is rapidly approaching concern, and that’s familiar, that’s familiar in a way that’s almost painful to look at.
“Do you need to sit down?” the man asks.
-
James’s duplicate is called Joseph, apparently. He steers James onto a bench, listens to his story, nodding thoughtfully. James has never...
He’s never talked about it in so much detail before. It feels easy to talk to someone who looks like him. Like it’s safe, like no one’s really listening. Like he’s just talking to himself.
A lot of the details are blurred, in his memory. Mary’s illness, Mary’s death, it feels like a lot of it is hovering just out of reach; he guesses it’s been a traumatic time. At one point, Joseph asks what he’s been doing since she died.
The question makes him uncomfortable. He doesn’t want to think about this. He doesn’t need to think about this; it’s not relevant. “It doesn’t matter.”
-
“Why are you here?” Joseph asks at last.
It startles James. Isn’t it obvious? “Mary could be here.”
“Maybe,” Joseph says, “but this town is full of monsters. I know you’ve noticed.” He nods at the plank James has propped against the side of the bench. “It’s not worth your life, is it? The fact that your wife might be here?”
“I have to see her again,” James says. “I have to say...”
He can’t think of exactly what he has to say. But something, something important. That he loves her, that he’s...
“You have to look after yourself,” Joseph says. “You didn’t get sick; you’re still alive. You’re the one whose needs still matter. Right?”
James stands up, sharply. “Don’t talk about her like that.”
“Like a dead person?” Joseph asks. “From what you’ve told me, it sounds like she was gone long before she died.”
James hits him across the face.
“Sorry,” Joseph says, laughing. “I guess I went too far.”
It doesn’t feel right, the laughter. When did James last laugh?
-
“How are you feeling?” Joseph asks, oddly gentle. Stooping over him.
Why is Joseph here? Where— “Where are we?”
James is on a bed. Why? He can’t take the time to rest, he needs to find Mary, but – but he feels terrible, exhausted and ill, his lungs burning with every breath. How long has he been awake?
Why can’t he remember getting here?
“We’re in Brookhaven Hospital,” Joseph says. “You breathed in the spray from one of those monsters. It—” He seemed so casual before, but now he’s pale, he looks worried. “It was bad.”
“How bad?” James asks. It takes an effort.
Joseph leans down to kiss him. It feels strangely natural in the moment; it’s only an instant later that James’s mind kicks in, starts to question—
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Alarmed and disturbed by the sudden shift in tone, living room sources confirmed Thursday that local mother Jeanine Weaver’s remembrance of Sam Neill had taken a lewd turn. “He was a terrific actor, one of my favorites to watch—and mm, mm, what a man he was,” said the 62-year-old woman who got a faraway look in her eyes that suggested to sources that Weaver had forgotten they were even standing in the same room.
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