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@winnified / winnified.tumblr.com

Hi. I'm Winnie. Stressed. Multi-Fandom.
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ahsteria

tag yourself ; cities

paris - soft smiles, blooming flowers, lots of sunlight, stories swirling in your mind, cursive letters, piercing eyes, whispers filled with secrets

new york - gives zero fucks about others’ opinions, perfect eyebrows, no sleep, a bit sad inside, huge equal rights activist, red lipstick, artsy af, string lights, lots of coffee, high waisted jeans

london - new ideas, old architecture, a soft voice, flickering candles, intelligent eyes, loud laughter, dancing alone in your room, big dreams, hot tea

montréal - comfy socks, french bakeries, lover of books, bold thoughts, wide smiles, kinda broken, cute jackets, warm hot chocolate, cobblestone streets

tokyo - aesthetic af, pen sketches, bright colors, bold fashion, small yet powerful smiles, striving for greatness, cute glasses

rome - loves museums, kind words, tangled earbuds, a bit in love, bright eyes, artsy photos, likes history, open windows, probably sings in the shower

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so I’ve been in a relationship for 5 years now. And I see a lot of posts about how people think relationships mean having butterflies forever, your heart beating faster when they walk into a room, about cuddling together every night, legs intertwined, that you’d be so happy to live together you’d sleep on a double bed with each other every night.

And its not really like that, at least not to me.

You stop getting the butterflies when you live together. Your heart no longer speeds up when you see them, but instead, everything calms down. When youre in the room with them, you feel calm, and secure. When you cuddle them you feel your heart beat slow, and the sound of their breathing carry you towards comfort. It doesnt feel like a roller coaster anymore, it feels like home.

You don’t sleep curled up with each other every night, legs twisted between theirs so tight its hard to tell where yours begin and theirs end.

Instead, you sleep comfortably, side by side, sometimes facing different directions. But every night, you find yourself scooting backwards on the bed so you bump into them. You snuggle against their arm, or stroke their hair as they fall asleep. There are nights when my boyfriend, in his sleep, reaches around me and pulls me to him, like a child with his teddybear, like I am his comfort.

 In the wee hours of the morning before the dawn breaks, when the world is blue and you see through cracked eyes, you curl into their chest and inhale their scent before drifting back to sleep. 

Kisses aren’t always romantic and firey anymore. But there are so much more of them now. There are cold kisses when you’re eating ice cream in the summer, and sticky kisses over breakfast pancakes. There’s “im leaving now” kisses, and “one more kiss before you go” kisses. There’s sleepy morning kisses before work, when you don’t remember the alarm going off but instead the press of their lips against yours is what brings you into the day.

There’s kisses before sleep, and, you are so sweet with the things you do kisses. There’s kisses because you treat animals so tenderly, and I’m so glad i’m with you and not someone else kisses. There’s quick kisses in the aisles of the grocery store, when its loud and you gravitate together, when instead of having your own personal space and their own personal space, its both of yours together, and you step into their chest to take up less area together. 

You don’t always text each other with confessions of love and care like you used to, because that’s a given now, and you’ve moved on to quirky inside jokes about the life youve built together. You share looks of exasperation and amusement in public, your own little world against the outside one. 

Relationships aren’t always a fairy tale. They’re not always fireworks and sparks, at least, after the start.

But they are a quiet rhythm and hum of love and care. It’s not a fire in your soul, but one in your hearth, keeping you warm and comfortable, comforting you as you drowsily drift into sleep.

And I love that.

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acutelesbian

A lot of people ask me what my biggest fear is, or what scares me most. And I know they expect an answer like heights, or closed spaces, or people dressed like animals, but how do I tell them that when I was 17 I took a class called Relationships For Life and I learned that most people fall out of love for the same reasons they fell in it. That their lover’s once endearing stubbornness has now become refusal to compromise and their one track mind is now immaturity and their bad habits that you once adored is now money down the drain. Their spontaneity becomes reckless and irresponsible and their feet up on your dash is no longer sexy, just another distraction in your busy life. Nothing saddens and scares me like the thought that I can become ugly to someone who once thought all the stars were in my eyes.

this fucks me up every single time

I never expected this to be my most popular poem out of the hundreds I’ve written. I was extremely bitter and sad when I wrote this and I left out the most beautiful part of that class.

After my teacher introduced us to this theory, she asked us, “is love a feeling? Or is it a choice?” We were all a bunch of teenagers. Naturally we said it was a feeling. She said that if we clung to that belief, we’d never have a lasting relationship of any sort.

She made us interview a dozen adults who were or had been married and we asked them about their marriages and why it lasted or why it failed. At the end, I asked every single person if love was an emotion or a choice.

Everybody said that it was a choice. It was a conscious commitment. It was something you choose to make work every day with a person who has chosen the same thing. They all said that at one point in their marriage, the “feeling of love” had vanished or faded and they weren’t happy. They said feelings are always changing and you cannot build something that will last on such a shaky foundation.

The married ones said that when things were bad, they chose to open the communication, chose to identify what broke and how to fix it, and chose to recreate something worth falling in love with.

The divorced ones said they chose to walk away.

Ever since that class, since that project, I never looked at relationships the same way. I understood why arranged marriages were successful. I discovered the difference in feelings and commitments. I’ve never gone for the person who makes my heart flutter or my head spin. I’ve chosen the people who were committed to choosing me, dedicated to finding something to adore even on the ugliest days.

I no longer fear the day someone who swore I was their universe can no longer see the stars in my eyes as long as they still choose to look until they find them again.

This is so fucking important and I think it’s something I needed right now

We had a theory connected to it in my Pschology classes: it was called Sternbergs triangular theory of love. He stated that love in general is about three feelings: intimacy, commitment and passion. Romantic love contains commitment and passion, but no intimacy. The other kind of love, friendship is about commitment and intimacy. So the problem about romantic love is that passion never lasts long and after it vanishes people break up. My professor said that the best base for a long lasting relationship would be a solid friendship.

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Before January ends, I’m going to magically and extremely be blessed by the universe.

not gonna risk scrolling past this

⭐️

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You will not believe the amount of times I’ve read an English word and thought of a pronunciation and then continued to pronounce the word that way in my head for years only to discover that it has a completely different pronunciation and I would’ve made a fool of myself if I had ever pronounced that word out loud

it’s okay native speakers have exactly the same experience

It’s a phenomenon unofficially known as “reader’s accent” and it’s very common! Because English has so many words (in fact considered to be the language with the greatest number of words) lots of people, and in particular those who read a lot as children, will encounter a word in writing long before they hear it spoken. They’ll develop the idea of what the word will sound like in their head, and only realize when they hear it spoken that their idea was different than the common pronunciation. 

I’ve even had it where I’ve known words as spoken words, and I’ve known words as written words, and it’s taken me a significant amount of time to realize that they were the same word. One example I can think of is the word indictment. I always thought “indictment” was pronounced “in-dict-ment,” and it was only when all these police indictments started happening on the news (with the news crawls below the words being spoken) that I realized it was “in-DITE-ment.” 

So yeah, never feel bad for discovering that a word in English is pronounced differently than you would’ve expected. English has had influence from SO many other languages over the centuries as it developed, and as a result, many of our pronunciation “guidelines” are borrowed from the languages the words originally came from. It’s massively inconsistent, and it’s one of the reasons that learning English as a second language is so difficult. 

As my favorite poster in the campus writing center used to proclaim: 

“English: A language that lurks in dark alleyways, beats up other languages, and rifles through their pockets for spare vocabulary.” 

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mikkeneko

it wasn’t until an adult that I realized that colonel and spoken word “kernal” were the same word

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sizvideos

I love how she almost drops it until she smells it and that flashbulb memory hits.

“Real isn’t how you are made,” said the Skin Horse. “It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real … Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don’t matter at all, because once you are Real you can’t be ugly, except to people who don’t understand.”

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redscudery

Notice she says “who” it was and not “what” it was.

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katdensetsu

Im crying

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voidbat

sobbing and clutching my stuffed lion i have slept with nearly every night for 33 years. i can’t fathom being separated from him long enough to not recognize him on sight, but if you blindfolded me and held up things to smell, i’d know him just as quickly and as hard as she did.

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cumaeansibyl

Video link is broken so here it is on YouTube, and I was already sniffling but then I saw this in the comments:

“The teddy bear was given to Jessica’s mother as a baby shower gift. After a long life, the bear was no more than part of head and a torn apart body with no stuffing. After a month of research and scouring through 10,000 vintage teddy bears online, Jessica’s fiancee was finally able to obtain the missing pieces of the bear, and had have him brought back to life at the local Teddy Bear Hospital.“

So that’s why she didn’t recognize him – he’d been so damaged that they had to reconstruct him. And now I’m crying even harder.

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