Bilinguals overwhelmingly report that they feel like different people in different languages. It is often assumed that the mother tongue is the language of the true self. (…) But, if first languages are reservoirs of emotion, second languages can be rivers undammed, freeing their speakers to ride different currents.
Lauren Collins, Love In Translation from the New Yorker, August 8 & 15, 2016 (via mesogeios)
Literally heard a convo at the library where a guy was telling a girl that he’s an omega and the girl telling him that she’s a beta, and my mind just did not automatically connect the context to fraternity pledge classes at all and I just whispered to myself “what the fuck?? What the fuck??”
HOLD UP. Steve probably couldn’t drink coffee pre-serum because it did shit to his heart. Like, he’d try drinking a cup, but then his heart would start beating so fast that he felt like it was about to explode and he’d tremble so violently that Bucky would have to hold him down ‘cause he was legit worried that Steve would shake his own atoms into nothingness.
Post-serum, he goes ham. He drinks 3 pots, and stands in the corner, eyes wide and silvery. Bucky asks if he’s okay. “When I am inevitably sent to Hell, I will fight the Devil and come out the victor,” Steve whispers.
“Dude, holy shit.”
I find this idea adorable.
But on the flip side, bold of you to assume that pre-serum Steve ever once held himself back from something out of consideration for his own health.
Richard: Why are you so dramatic?
the Marquis de Carabas, in a beautiful long black coat, appearing out of nowhere with a literal bolt of thunder and a dramatic pose: I have no idea what you’re talking about
