Being a polyglot, I decided to make a post about how to study any language, Without further ado, here it is:


This is the most crucial step to studying/learning a new language. In order for your brain to pick up the new words and ideas, it needs to be more immersed in the language you’re learning. Now for most of us who are learning languages in school, that’s kind of hard, especially since most language classes do most of the work in English until you build a level of fluency. This is the primary reason why immersion programs or immersion schools are so much more successful in teaching a language: you’re forced to talk, write, speak, and think in the language you’re learning. Your brain makes connections faster and thus learns faster to understand and process the language. I would suggest that when you’re learning the language, whether it’s in class time or homework, try to work only in that language. Don’t automatically translate things into English because that’s only going to inhibit your process. Even if your knowledge of the language is limited, practicing thinking in the language, reading the language without translating, and speaking will greatly improve your progress. You’ll find yourself become more fluent and the language will flow rather than be halting because your brain is trying to translate things instead of thinking fluently.


Vocab is one of, if not the, most important aspect of learning a language. I would even go as far as saying it’s about 70-80% of effectively knowing a language. Think about it this way, if you’re at a restaurant and you’re asked to read the menu or if you’re out and you’re reading signs and advertisements, will knowing hundreds of verbs and their conjugations help you get by? Most likely not. Vocab on the other hand will make the difference between understanding and being totally clueless. If that example didn’t do it for you here’s another one: when you’re speaking to someone how can you express yourself if you don’t know the words? Chances are even if you know no grammar but know key words in the language someone will understand you. Most people don’t pay that much attention to grammar anyway when you’re speaking. As long as you have a basic understanding of it, you’ll be understood. I’m not saying that grammar isn’t important, far from it, but so many people underestimate vocab and focus on grammar and that hinders your learning. Try to learn as much vocab as you can because it will bring you one more step to being fluent. The key to knowing a language is to understand it to a high degree. You can’t understand if you don’t know the words. Find a list with the most common words in the language you’re learning and try to learn them all. Have a goal to learn 10-20 new words per day and you’ll go a long way. If you’re trying to learn vocab I would recommend to have a sheet with all the words you’re trying to learn and their definitions. Hide the words and try to write the vocab by seeing only the definitions. Writing down helps you remember and this method is foolproof. I’ve used it for 6+ years in French and it’s never failed me.


When I say basic grammar, I mean the typical verb tenses and some basic structures. This doesn’t mean learning every single verb conjugated in every single tense, but rather learning the patterns of grammar and how to apply them. Work smarter not harder. Learning the patterns makes it easier to recognize them when you’re reading and remember them when you’re writing. In my opinion, one fault with the way languages are taught in school is the way they teach grammar and how much time they spend on it. Most native speakers don’t worry as much about grammar as non-native speakers do. Again, I’m not saying grammar isn’t important because it is and  you have to know it, but the way it’s taught ruins it. Try to make a chart with all the verb tenses and the patterns that go with the different types of verbs and then a list with the irregular verbs/exceptions. This should be enough to help you gain a basic mastery of grammar. If you know the basic rules, it will become second nature as you speak, write, and read more.


The language you learn at school is very very different from the language actually spoken in its native country. Most of the language you learn is very formal while in real life, formality is disregarded to a degree and slang is prevalent. In order to build a fluency, you need to read and listen to the language in its natural form to pick up the slang and words that are actually used and not the archaic words that nobody ever says. Listen to music from that language, watch the news in that language, read a book or magazine in that language etc. This will again help your brain learn and process the language better. It will also help with vocabulary and general understanding. Children’s books are the best when you’re starting out. The language is simple and the grammar isn’t to complicated. Start with children’s books and then work your way up to novels and other forms of literature. Listening to the language is also crucial. Try to find mediums where the language is spoken and just listen. Don’t translate or stress yourself out trying to understand it all because you won’t the first couple of times. Just let it sink in. Gradually, you’ll find yourself understanding more and more and you’ll improve. With the speaking aspect, speak as much as you can. Don’t be embarrassed if you stumble, can’t express yourself as much as you would like, or have an accent. I also find that watching/reading/listening to translated works is helpful. Find your favorite book and read it in the language you’re learning, it will help you understand and learn more because you already know what’s going on and can focus on the vocab and grammar. Find your favorite movie and watch it in the language you’re learning. Again, it will help you learn more vocab. The more you practice the better it will get. If you distance yourself from speaking you’ll never improve. Balancing reading, listening, and speaking is the key to being successful.


Nobody becomes fluent over night. Cliche but true. Don’t expect to instantly know everything. It’s normal to struggle and have trouble. Failing is part of the learning process and if you stop practicing because you’re afraid, you’re never going to learn anything. Let go of your fears and insecurities and go for it. If you fall down, pick yourself up and start again. Don’t be embarrassed if you mess up but rather learn from your mistakes and grow. The things we remember most are usually the things where we’ve messed up or had a negative experience with. So use the hiccups as a learning experience and your language skills will improve. 

If you follow these steps, I’m confided that you’ll be better in no time :) The key is to enjoy what you do and have fun! Good luck!

Human again

request: Can I request and imagine with Adam before the curse and him treating the reader badly and when the curse happens she tries to run but The beast holds her captive, but in the end she ends up breaking the curse.

@quickies-with-quicksilver: Holy crap I just need anything with the beast/Adam and your little one shots are so cute! I don’t even care what the plot is, I just need some!!

warnings: none

a/n:feel free to request more BATB stuff :)

You stood in front of the cocky prince as he shifted on his throne. He guffawed,
“Your work has been lacking lately.”

You kept your head low,
“Yes your majesty.”

“Your work isn’t detailed, your attitude is infuriating, and I don’t think you’ve been taught manners in your entire life.” The arrogant prince said as you gritted your teeth together, stay calm.

“If I may-” You heard Mrs.Potts step forward to defend you only to be cut off
when he raised his hand.

The room was silent before he said,

You did not move an inch as he grew angrier,
“You will listen to your king.”

You looked up at him with narrowed eyes,
“Kill me if you must, but I will never bow to a king who wears a crown studded with jewels of every life he has ruined.”

He stood up to begin to yell at you before you cut him off,
"How can you be so cruel to those who have taken care of you your whole life? Is your heart that cold that you cannot care for even one person?”

The room was silent as you gave him a sympathetic look,
“I pity you.”

Before he could even respond Plumette and Mrs.Potts had led you out of the room and back up to the servants quarters.

Keep reading

Growing Up Batty: Part 6

AN: So I’ve actually finished writing this series. It has two parts left to be posted and then it shall be done. I’m very excited for you guys to read the ending. I think it’ll be very different from what you’re used to.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

You and your parents have an understanding, they don’t ask any questions and you don’t put your life in blatant danger. They know it could be worse, that you could have ended up like either of your parents. And honestly there’s a lot worse things than fighting Gotham’s crime at night. Still, you understand their blissful ignorance, and you fully support it.

           You launch yourself from one roof to the next, and take off running. You cherish the burn in your lungs and the ache in your legs. Then you’re falling, in between buildings and into an alleyway.

           It takes nothing to incapacitate the mugger there. You leave him for the cops to find, before scaling the wall back to the roof. Damian is waiting for you, his legs thrown over the side as he stares at the sky line.

           You wait for him to make the first move. He does, just like always. He holds out a small box. Curiously, you take it. Inside is a cupcake. You glance at him, and see the lightest tinge of a blush on his face. He clears his throat and says, “Happy Anniversary.”

           You cock your head to the side, “Which one did I forget?” He raises an eyebrow in question, and you continue, “Which anniversary? Friendship? Study date? First time I came to your house?”

           He sighs, “You’re infuriating.”

           You shrug, “I’m told it’s in my DNA.”

           He rolls his eyes, “You’ve officially been Nightingale for three years now.”  

           Your brow furrows, “I get an anniversary cupcake for that?”


           “You and the guys don’t get cupcakes. Neither does Bruce.”

           “You’re special.”

           “How am I special?”

           There’s several moments of silence before he reaches for the cupcake, and says, “Never mind, you’re ordinary and you don’t deserve a cupcake.”

           You hold it out of his reach, “I always deserve a cupcake. You’re adorable when you’re ornery.”

           He pouts while you eat it. Occasionally, you let him swipe some icing, before you get back to it. You run the rooftops together, leaning on each other. You work as a team, a fearsome duo.

           By the time the sun rises you’ve taken out ten muggers, stopped two robberies, and stopped an armed gun fight. It’s three am, you’re exhausted, and ready for bed. Of course, bed isn’t always an option. Especially when the big guy calls you in.

           Two years ago, Bruce had split the team into sections. You worked on a rotating schedule, and more often than not, you and Damian were paired together near the docks. Bruce only called everyone in for big stuff. A bit reluctantly, you follow Damian back to the cave.

           Everyone is there and waiting, and that’s when you get the news; Harley Quinn had broken the Joker out of Arkham.

           You don’t feel embarrassed, or sad, you’re mad. Your mother had been laying low for years. While there were occasional sightings of her she hadn’t done anything particularly bad in the years since you’d become Nightingale. And Joker, he had somehow stayed under lock and key the whole time.

           You weren’t exactly excited about the idea of a family reunion, and when Bruce tells you to go home, you’re not surprised. Even if everyone else is. You’re part of the team, they argue, it’s not fair. But you’re more than willing to sit this one out. So, you hang up your suit, and head home.

           You’re five blocks from home when the first plant starts to sprout. You slow the motorcycle to a stop, and carefully dismount after cutting the engine. You walk to the curb and take a seat. She shows up moments later.

           She sits down next to you, crossing her legs, “Hello, Arlecchino.”

           You blink at her, “Pamela.”

           She smiles at the formality, “How’s the superhero life treating you?”

           You frown, but you’re not surprised, if she had been able to read your DNA all those years ago, it doesn’t surprise you that she knows your alter ego as well. “Peachy. What do you want?”

           “Your mother is in trouble.”

           “My mother is five blocks down the road already asleep. You are referring to my carrier.”

           “Is that resentment I hear?”

           “Only for her actions.”

           She nods, “Fair enough. Doesn’t change the fact that she needs your help.”

           You hesitate before asking, “What happened?”

           Pamela stares at you, “Your father found out about you.”

           Your eyes go wide, “Who told him?”

           “She did.”


           Pamela sighs, “After we met all those years ago, I confronted her about you. She demanded information about you. Then started talking about taking you back. That couldn’t happen. I know that, and you know that, but Harley…”

           “Is crazy.”

           “Only because of the Joker. I told her no, that it would ruin your life, and that seemed to knock sense into her, right up until she saw you on TV. She went ballistic, left the greenhouse before I could stop her, went to get Joker’s help in getting you back. Wants the three of you to be a family. The seeds I planted on her, the ones that measure her vitals, tell me she’s in bad shape.”

           You wipe your hands over your face, “Why can’t you get her?”

           “Because she won’t listen to me. Won’t believe her delusion won’t come true until she sees it.”

           You scowl, “You mean until she sees him almost kill me.”

           “To put it in blunt terms, yes.”

           You shake your head and stand up, “I know better. One sidekick already died at his hands, I doubt I’ll be lucky enough to come back. She’s made her bed and now she has to lie in it.” Without another word, you walk away, mount your bike, and go.

If given the chance to grow old together, they would have started by healing together in a med bay on Yavin IV, comparing wounds and talking long into the night until they each grew hoarse, each other’s voice the lullaby that helped the other drift off into a sleep that wasn’t plagued by nightmares.

If given the chance to grow old together, they would not touch one another for almost a year after Scarif unless it was to pass paperwork or shield the other from a blast because sometimes when you’re invincible once, it usually means you won’t get to be invincible again.

If given the chance to grow old together, they would not touch each other until it became too unbearable, until he lost his cool in the cold Hoth passageways and hauled her into his arms and they sunk into his door, into his bed, and then into one another.

If given the chance to grow old together, Cassian and Jyn would have signed the official paperwork that made their union a legal contract on the transport ship on their way down to her grandmother’s homeworld of Aria Prime; all this a mere formality for a life in peace after the life they had already made together in war.

If given the chance to grow old together, they would have built a home with walls of windows so that the light could always be let in, so that the sun would rise and fall with the open and close of day instead of with the crack of a hatch from above.

If given the chance to grow old together, Jyn would have become expert in making their homestead thrive and their crops grow, and she would tell Cassian, with a soft kiss, “I was once a farm girl, didn’t you know?”

If given the chance to grow old together, it would have become habit for Jyn to kiss the callouses on his hands formed by decades with a sniper rifle until the day they disappeared and were replaced by the blisters made from tilling soil.

If given the chance to grow old together, Cassian would have become a good cook. Jyn, however, would not.

If given the chance to grow old together, they would have named their first and only child after a star thought once lost, only to be found again.

If given the chance to grow old together, Cassian would have spent hours making up stories for their child, uncomplicated tales of good guys who always won and villains who always got their due, because a child of six had a whole lifetime to learn the darkness of the universe, and it could wait.

If given the chance to grow old together, Jyn would have had the chance to see what it was like for a child to grow up with a father who stayed and a mother who lived.

If given the chance to grow old together, Cassian, who was once struck by how Jyn Erso seemed to be like who someone who couldn’t die, would have to accept that one day that she could.

If given the chance to grow old together, Jyn would always be home because she would always have him.

If given the chance to grow old together, they would have taken it.

(For more of my depressing head canons, look here and here and here.)

Just realizing how completely nuts the history of the Uzumaki is gonna look a hundred years from now. “The clan was almost wiped out after Uzushio fell and was down to only three members, but then a new one emerged from somewhere and started adopting a bunch of jinchuuriki through the finders keepers method of child acquisition. Then one of the dead Uzumakis came back to life, formally recognized all the kids as Uzumaki, and relocated to Konoha where they kept adopting small children and ultimately became one of the largest clans in the Village.”

I Love You

A/N: @baerrylll gave me my first prompt request and I hope it’s deemed well! It came easier to me than I thought. Y’all were quick with the requests which is MAGICAL. The other ones will be up shortly! It completely obliterated my indents so bare with that. This is unbeta’d (THANK YOU GRAMMARLY!!) 

Prompts #11 -His eyes were cold and lifeless as he stared at me. “You have no idea who I am, do you?” and #27- You love her don’t you?” “Is it that obvious?”

   When Spencer called, two and a half weeks after meeting you, signs weren’t exactly pointing towards a date. Sure, you guys hit it off when you were introduced but then it was radio silence. You weren’t totally offended but it also wasn’t the best feeling. He was cute and sweet and the conversation was wholly different from anything else you’ve ever experienced.

   Maybe that was it? Maybe the conversation wasn’t fulfilling to him. You knew right off the bat that he was a force to be reckoned with, intellectually. He could have spent the entire group dinner talking about theories and psychologists but when you spoke? His eyes never left you.  Maybe it wasn’t the conversation.

   Maybe it was the job difference. Your best friend Rachel had mentioned something about her favorite cousin being a federal agent, FBI you later deduced, and you were not. You were a DSS and proud of it.  You weren’t out there chasing bad guys or investigating murders, but your work was hard and fulfilling. You couldn’t imagine doing anything else.

   When the first date turned into a second date, which turned quickly into a third and a fourth and half of a fifth (weather, man.), you came to the conclusion that this could be it. He could be it, The One. At least you had hoped. It took some work but you got along with his team and you knew better than to ask about case specifics. He, in turn, knew better than to ask about your residents. He understood HIPAA and the other laws that permitted you to discuss the finer details about your exact work life.

   Formal dates turned into casual get-togethers with his team, or your friends/ co-workers, or just the two of you. You both were at your happiest when sweats and movies were involved. Although, when he would read his favorite poetry to you it was pretty incredible. Likewise for when you would convince him to do some volunteer work at the local cat shelter. The way he looked at you, you just knew.

   The home you worked for prided itself on being someplace safe for not only it’s residents but also it’s co-workers, after all, everyone was family. So when it came time for a “family party” (monthly staff meeting that involved you getting your paycheck a few days early) it wasn’t a complete surprise when the conversation turned itself on you. Everyone was still arriving when Cassie, she was 7 months your work senior, sat next to you on the living room sofa with a mug of s’more flavored coffee. She looked a little tired but that’s what happened when you worked full-time, went to school, and had a 3-year-old.

   “Heard you had a date last night. What’s that make your total this month? 4?” She asked as she ran her hand through her short chocolate hair as she got comfortable.

   You faintly blushed and gave a soft smile. “Yeah. Something like that.”

   Melanie, Cassie’s best friend, and fellow 3rd-shifter sat on the sofa, putting Cassie in the middle. “Ooh. Do tell. Where did you guys go this time? Or did you stay in? Hmmm?”

   You giggled at your friend’s shenanigans. “No, we went out. His co-workers had told him about this hibachi and he wanted to try it out. So we did. It wasn’t planned. We just really wanted sushi and steak.”

   “Look at you guys going on random dates. Going somewhere just because. It’s like Y'all are married or something.” Cassie sipped from her drink.

   “Almost.” Melanie winked.

   The conversation died down, and the meeting started, but your mind had a hard time straying from what the girls had said, insinuated. You hadn’t even told him you loved him yet, but you couldn’t figure out why. What was stopping you?

   You made it home safely from the meeting and decided to settle in for a nap. You’d eventually realize why you had a hard time saying things to Spencer that would make him stay absolutely, make your relationship so concrete.

   The dream started like it always did; you were trying to travel somewhere far and you were running late for whatever mode of transportation was going to get you there. It changed, then. Taking the Megabus to the train station turned into taking an unidentifiable convoy to an unidentifiable place. Fear started to settle in you, and for good reason. All of a sudden you couldn’t recognize who was in the vehicle with you, or the passing outside. It was farmland but that quickly turned into a bridge being surrounded by water and that’s when it kicked in. That’s when your aquaphobia made itself known. You weren’t even touching the water and it had already begun to feel Ike the air was leaving your lungs.

   “Where are we going?” You managed to squeak out.

   No one responded. No one turned their heads to look at you. Lemmings, you thought.

   “Can anyone hear me?”

   Someone sitting behind the driver, a man, began to turn his head around. It moved so slowly, at some point you were concerned about how far he’d turn it. What was he, an owl?

   The two of you made eye contact but he didn’t blink, didn’t talk. It was almost like he wasn’t even breathing. But his eyes never left yours. They almost had a familiar feel to them, but eerie. The way he wasn’t blinking definitely wasn’t helping.  

   Then he stood up.

   The man turned so he was still within his seat space but his whole body was facing you, You couldn’t quite see his clothes or all the features on is face but you could make out the eyes and the emotion they held.

   No, They didn’t hold emotion. Nothing in him held emotion, of this you could tell. You could sense overwhelming dread as he made his way to the aisle of the bus you were still on, that was still going down the road. He was coming right for you but you couldn’t move, couldn’t get up, not that you had anywhere you could go anyway. He stopped right in front of your seat.

   You swallowed and tried to move towards the window but he grabbed your wrist and held it tight. Oh yeah, you weren’t going anywhere anytime soon. It didn’t help that he had a tight grip, maybe even cutting off your circulation. You still couldn’t look away.

   His eyes were cold and lifeless as he stared at you. “You have no idea who I am, do you?”

   You inhaled sharply and his grip somehow increased. But that’s when you saw it.

   This is it, you thought. This is where I leave Spencer, and I’ll never be able to see or talk or touch him again. No! He doesn’t even know I love him!

   “Let me go!” You yelled and squirmed, but his hand wouldn’t release you. “I have to tell Spencer! I won’t be like you! I need to tell him!”

   You took a sharp and haggard breath as you sat up. You were in your bed, under your own sheets. After grasping reality, you ran your hands over your face and counted backward from 10. Numbers helped, sometimes. Numbers and food.

   Your stomach growling led you to swing your legs over the side of the bed and out of the bedroom. Before you made it ten steps, you could hear his voice coming from the kitchen talking to someone else. When you didn’t hear anyone else, you deduced that Spencer was on the phone. You decided to eavesdrop, give your heart some more time to let up on the hammering.

   “I’m sure, Morgan.” A brief pause as you heard him clinking around in the cupboards.

   “Yeah, she was upstairs taking a nap when I got in. I figured a quick cup of coffee would suffice and a sticky note. I probably won’t even wake her.” Water running, most likely into the coffee pot to fill the filter.

   A shattering of glass was heard before you heard your boyfriend briefly swear. “And that was my favorite mug. Darn it.”

   “You breaking her things, man?” Derek’s voice could be heard, he must have put his phone on speaker to clean up the mess.

   “It was an accident. I loved this mug. The coffee never got cold, like magic.”

   “If you believed in magic. What’s the total damage, anyway? You basically live there. It could be considered your mug.”

   Spencer sighed. “Yeah that sounds good on paper, but it’s not my property. It’s hers. I like to respect it as I respect her.”

   “By dropping it on the linoleum?” The other man chuckled.

   “It was an accident. Besides…I’d never want to drop Leah or hurt her.” Then Spencer gave an almost whisper. “She’s everything to me.”

 “You really love her, don’t you?”

  “Is it that obvious?” A smack could be heard. “Don’t answer that. I know it is. I want it to be. I-I want…”

   “What, Reid? What do you want?”

   “I want- I want to be able to tell her that.”

   “You haven’t!? She doesn’t know? You mean to tell me that you’ve been seeing each other for almost half a year and you’re basically living in her house, and you haven’t even said ‘I love you’ yet!?”

   “Aw, Derek. I didn’t know you felt that way.”


   “I know I’m sorry! I-I just… I don’t… I…” He took a deep breath. “I know it’s unlikely but she hasn’t said it either so there’s always a chance that she doesn’t feel the same way. I don’t want the thought that all of this has been for nothing. If I say it and it’s not reciprocated then…then it’ll destroy me.”

   “Listen to me when I tell you that you have nothing to be worried about. Y/N loves you just as much as you love her. There’s nothing to fear there, man. Just say it.”

   Taking the matter into your own hands, you walk around the wall separating the hallway and the kitchen. You walk up to your unsuspecting boyfriend and grab his face, pushing your lips against his.

   “I love you, Spencer. Always.”

   He didn’t dare do anything besides blink and if your heart weren’t still hammering from the dream and everything that followed you would have giggled at his dumbfound expression.

   “Well, that’s my cue. Thank God.” Derek said his goodbyes and then hung up.

   Your eyes never left Spencer, and his eyes never left you.

   “I love you, too.” At that, he grabbed your waist and pulled your lips back on to his.

anonymous asked:

Hello, I'm a Russian Chinese girl who lives in the US. Lately, I've really been into other cultures, and not just interest, but trying to be like them. I've always been kind of ashamed of my russian heritage, with all the things going on right now. What are some things I can do to love my culture?

Hi! I understand you better than you think! There are very dark and shameful pages in the Russian history. Gosh, when I saw a Katyn memorial in my beloved Krakow, I wanted to burn my Russian passport! I cried of shame, really! The things that are going on in Russia now are very sad, sometimes astonishingly stupid, but mostly disgusting. This is true, and even though it will cost me a few followers, I should admit that there are shameful and humiliating episodes in the Russian past and present. 

Yet, there are some aspects in the Russian culture that I love. And those are the things that helped me to grow into what I am. 

I grew up on the society where there was a cult of science. Yes, this topic is more complicated than it seems, but generally, in the late Soviet Union, science was praised, and being smart was honorable.

I believe, Russia still doesn’t share stupid gender stereotypes that are widely shared in the North America. There are other stupid gender stereotypes in Russia, but they are different. Culturally and economically speaking, being a woman in Russia is not a horrible disadvantage. Stay-at-home moms with slim chances to make a good career - it is not common in Russia! It is rather a norm when both parents work in a family in Russia. 

Russians are sincere, sometimes to the extend when it becomes rude. But I like this feature of my culture. It helps to solve problems fast and efficiently. When somebody openly criticizes my work (constructively, of course), I can improve it. Otherwise, I’ll never learn what I’ve been doing wrong. Here in the North America, and in Canada in particular, people prefer to be polite, not helpful. This frustrates me a lot. I’m not a kid, I can stand your criticism - be honest with me! No, they can’t - this is against their cultural code. Sigh. 

It is deep in the Russian culture to be cooperative. I don’t mean formally, but in everyday life, Russians try to be helpful, sometimes too much. 

If you really want to take a more or less unbiased, rational look at the Russian culture, I would suggest to watch this course on Coursera: Understanding Russians

As of that overwhelming shame… At the Katyn memorial in Krakow, when I was crying of shame and anger, a middle-aged Polish guy approached me and quietly asked why I was crying. I explained that I felt burning shame. And he said, “you shouldn’t. You didn’t kill anybody. Most likely, you didn’t even vote for that idiotic KGB officer than is now the Russian president. It’s not your fault”. 

Somehow, his words helped me to make peace with myself. And here in this blog, I’m not promoting Russian nationalism. I would never say that Russian is the most beautiful language, or the most difficult language, or the most anything language in the world - this is pure stupidity and lack of education.  I just have been trying to help other people to acquire the Russian language and everything beautiful that was once said and written in that language. There are quite a lot of good things that were made in Russian. 

Probably, this is the most honest post in this blog so far. 

forever (and a day)

sanada yukimura x mc (misaki kasagi)

a/n: this one is for @bakers97, prompt 3 from this list - “it’s always been you.” this fic is a little different – i don’t want to spoil it, so i guess you’ll all just have to read and see why~

@jemchew @pasunny @naerial @demon-princess-anastasia

There’s a man who always comes into their restaurant when he’s in Kyoto.

He has blue eyes and hair the color of river pebbles, and a low voice that almost always stutters when he first speaks with her. There is a near-constant blush on his face until he has eaten his first bite, and then he smiles, boyish and carefree.

He’s built almost as big as Inuchiyo, is the first thing she notes—because not many people are as big as Inuchiyo—but he’s gentler than her childhood friend, less prone to boisterous and raucous conversations. He’ll gladly talk to anyone in the restaurant, but he speaks with an air of almost childlike excitability.

The man never gives his name, but she also never asks. Most of the time he looks like he’s been doing something casually active—he wears either a hoodie or a t-shirt, and the tightest pants she’s ever seen him wear are workout sweats that are cinched at the ankles.

He comes around at times few and far between, and without warning.

But no matter how much time passes, she recognizes him.

Keep reading

Fingertips Between Us Chapter 3

Hnnnngh I’m sorry it took so long! I also apologize that its a little short. 

BUT. If you wanted angst, you got it!!!!

Chapter 3

Your eyes widened in horror. Of all people to offer you help, he was the least person you expected.

“Mr. Han…?” You whispered in disbelief

“Why…are you here?”

Mr.Han looks at you as if you were a bug. His tone is harsh and cold as he answers, “The head of this hospital is an associate of mine.”

You nod silently. Of course. He was here just by chance. You let the quiet take over again as your mind returns to its state of distress. A loan..yes you could take a loan-

“I’ll give you the $800,000.”

His voice cuts into you like a sharpened blade of ice. The words aren’t said with compassion or sympathy. They aren’t even said with a small bit of kindness.

“Excuse me?” You ask in disbelief. How did Mr.Han even know you needed that much?

As if he could hear your unanswered question, “I told you, the head of the hospital is an associate of mine.” His eyes roll with annoyance, as if he questioned how you could be so ignorant, which, he probably was.

But that doesn’t matter to you at the moment. “Mr.Han…thank you. I swear, I’ll do pay back. I’ll do anything to repay your kindness. Thank you, thank you, thank you!” You breath, your shoulders trembling, full of relief.

“Ms. MC, I did not say I’d give it to you for free.”

You almost stop breathing. What?

Mr. Han sighs, “The $800,000…in exchange, I would like you to stop interfering with Jumin’s life.”

Instantly panic swells into your chest. What? Your knees grow weak, and just like your world, you crash to the stone hard floor of the hospital, your legs causing you to kneel. Leave…Jumin? Leave Jumin to save Akari? Be with Jumin…or let Akari die? Tears stream down your face, and you want to scream at Mr. Han in frustration.

“Jumin has a bright future ahead of him. Doing this helps achieve both our goals. You leave his life and save your niece.” Mr. Han speaks as if Akari’s life was something tradeable, as if it were simply an item on a shelf.

“Mr. Han…” A sob strangles your voice

And now you don’t care about keeping face or any formalities. Your life is coming undone before you.

“Please…please, please! I’ll do anything. I’ll work hard to become someone who won’t embarrass him. I’ll drop everything for him. So please…anything but that. Please don’t make me leave him” You plead desperately. Akari and Jumin…were you selfish for wanting both of them?

There’s no sign of emotion from Mr. Han besides the fact that he breaks eye contact off from you and lets silence steep in.

The only thing that fills it are your sobs.

Then, suddenly, a hand pats your shoulder gently, stopping to rest there. You look up questioningly, your hand covering your mouth to hold in sobs and tears still dropping from your eyes.

The doctor stares down at you pitifully. “Ms. MC…Akari doesn’t have a lot of time” He states, and your tears only fall harder.

You had to make a choice. Right here. Right now. Your heart is so heavy. The words that begin to fill your throat feel like bile. But there’s something else you feel. Of course you want to cry. You want to let the tears you’ve been holding back to spill. Your hands are shaking, your knees pressed against the cold floor. You stare at them silently. And in the next instant, you hands tremble no longer.

You rise your head up from the floor swiftly. Your lips are moving in a tremor, and you bite them hard to still them. You stare directly into Mr. Han’s eyes. You aren’t glaring at him, oh no. You hold your gaze, eyeing at his very soul

“Mr. Han. You have yourself a deal.”

Jumin sighed as he stepped off the airplane. Flipping open his cell phone, he winced at all your missed calls. The business meeting had taken much of his time, and he had rushed onto a plane to get back to you. He wanted to surprise you, but as he listened to your voicemails, uneasy began to take root in his stomach.

He quickly dialed your number as he stepped into a car. No answer. He tried again and again, the feeling in his stomach only growing as he neared the apartment.

“Welcome back Mr. Han. Is everything alright?” The security guards greet him as he enters through the lobby door.

Jumin ignores them, bypassing the formalities, heading right to the elevator.

By the time he’s at the penthouse door, his panic and fear are written all over his face.

The lights are out, and the moment he swings the front door open he stops in his tracks, lingering in the doorway. He stares at the door penthouse. It feels….cold.

Finally he takes a deep breath. Perhaps you were simply napping. As Jumin walks to the living room though, all thoughts of that leave his mind. Your coat is gone from the hanger, the slippers you left at the edge of the couch gone. Little traces of you erased.

“MC?” He calls out quietly, walking through the silent penthouse.

Elizabeth the Third is curled up on the couch, and at the sound of his voice, she purrs softly. Jumin walks into the bedroom that the two of you had shared. The bed is made perfectly. He runs to the closest, swinging the doors open. Your clothes are gone.

“No…” he whispers

And then he whirls around, opening the dresser, barging into the bathroom, desperate to find something. Anything of yours.

After he finds nothing, nothing at all, his eyes widen in horror. Quietly he stalks back into the bedroom, standing in the doorway. He looks at the wall just behind the large king bed. And his heart shatters.

Jumin notices it for the first time. The large portrait of the two of you that V took, is missing. The wall an empty reflection of his heart.

Sensing something wrong, the security guards fill into the penthouse. They stand a few feet away from Jumin, stopping in their tracks at the look on his face.

How do you console a man whose very existence is breaking? How do you comfort a man whose only loved once?

“Mr. Han-” One of the guards begin.

“Find her.” Jumin’s voice is quiet, barely above a whisper.

“Excuse me?” Another guard asks, looking up from the floor.


The words are raw, spoken through gritted teeth and clenched fists.

The guards escape from the penthouse instantly, the front door shutting behind them.

Jumin pulls his cellphone out of his suit pocket again. He dials your number again and again, and eventually his hand falls to the side, the cellphone on speaker as he rings over and over. His profile is hidden beneath his bangs and the darkness of the room. His other hand rests gently on his forehead, as if he was shading himself from the light.

Yes. That’s what he should have done the moment he met you. Shaded himself from the light. If he had known losing you would hurt this much, he would have very much prefered to stay in the dark.

The sound of something small hitting the floor is the only sound in the penthouse. Jumin’s face is still hidden both by his hand and bangs, but his shoulders tremble. More drops hit the floor, falling from the trail of water that escapes Jumin’s eyes.

You have reached an automatic voice message system, please try again later. Goodbye.  

impossiblepizzapeace  asked:

Can I have a dood ship please. 5'7 on the chubbier side of the scale. I have green eyes and blonde hair. My friends all say I'm really pretty. I'm hilarious, but kinda shy. I like to read sing and act. But again (I really only sing with friends and family cause I'm really shy) love your blog and thanks in advance 😘

Requested by: @impossiblepizzapeace

I ship you with Embry!

Originally posted by twilightimaginesandgifs

-Embry is a goofball. 

-Simple as that

-And when he met you, this hilarious, sassy girl who was dropping sarcastic remarks under your breath left, right and center, he wanted to befriend you.

-The tribal school is kinda small on the reservation, and the student population isn’t that great, so he’s curious as to how he hasn’t met you before.

-Like, its big enough to not know everyone, or remember all faces, but let’s be real, he should have known you.

-Turn’s out, your parents had moved back to their hometown, and up rooting you from your formal life, you were internally flailing everywhere here.

-Jesus Christ, why this place be so wet? Just this morning you slid down the front path of your home because the Ice God decided to take you the fuck out

-Embry see’s this as a way to get to know you when he finds out your new to the area. “Have you been down to La Push yet?” and, “This place runs through your very vein’s Y/N, I will ensure you know all the secrets here.”

  • You learn the best hiking trails
  • And he helps you learn to Surf (that just turns into near death experiences for both of you!)
  • (It’s a mutel unspoken agreement to not teach you after you nearly drown him.)
  • It becomes a fun story to tell others though.

-Being friends with Embry has made the transition here sooooo much easier. Opening you up to a better friends group and High School experience. 

-Quill and Jacob like you, finding your comments and attitude endearing. 

-Quill and Jacob become pretty protective of you when they realize how you and Embry act together. 

  • Your pretty sure a guy in your year group tried to ask you out once but Jacob scared him away. 
  • you tried to hint at it with Jacob but he turned those big eyes on you that were practically smirking themselves with a shin in them, and he looks at you and goes ‘nope. Don’t know what your talking about’
  • He totally knew. But he loves Embry and he wants you two to bang
  • (Jacob will never admit that aloud)

-Embry has met your parents and you’ve told them a million and one times that ‘ you guys are just friends’ but your beginning to realize you guys weren’t just friends. 

-Jacob has disappeared, and he’s not returning calls and texts anymore. His father says he’s sick. 

- Embry and Quill are hurt because this Sam guy has started some stupid gang and roped Jacob into it. 

  • Sickness your ass. 
  • You, Embry and Quill see Jacob with them in town sometimes.
  • You all try and get Jake to talk and say something to you
  • now he pointedly freezes you all out
  • you can’t be sure but one day, you think you see Jacob mouth ‘i’m sorry’ to you. But you can’t be sure your not just being wishful

-You stay over some nights at the Call house, because you guys are close enough for that

-His mum makes sure you are always falling asleep in the spare room and not Embry’s.

- you did wake up one morning with Embry in the spare room with you, but he was gone before his mum woke up

-Something must be going around. Embry keeps suffering heat flashes in school. You convince him to go to the school nurse. His parents pick him up with a knowing look on their face. 

-Embry isn’t answering your calls anymore. Not even your texts. 

-You asked Quill if he’s heard anything. He hasn’t. 

-You can tell Quill is pretty hurt by this betrayal. So are you. And it hurts pretending your not feeling forgotten and neglected.

-Jacob has returned back to school after being away ‘sick’ for a long time. 

-Why does Jake look like he has been taking steroids??? 

-Jacob is still freezing you and Quill out. He won’t sit with you at lunch. He’s somewhere else. 

-You make sure Jacob knows your feelings when you have Gym together

  • It’s dodgeball
  • you’ve made sure your on the other team. Just so you can target Jacob.
  • you have now hit him five times in the face with the balls. 
  • You think you see a hint of a smirk on his face from your behaviour. 
  • You throw a ball at his face again.

-You have a feeling Embry will still be away with this ‘sickness’ for a while 

-You and Quill are sitting together at your usual table. 

  • “Quill … your not going to get robed into this gang stuff are you?”
  • “No. I’m not a jerk like them.”
  • “I wouldn’t abandon you either, just so you know.”
  • He smiles, “I know. You’re the last true friend I have left here.”
  • It was the same for you to.  

-You don’t know why. But you feel like its going to get worse. 

-Quill says he saw Embry in town after school yesterday, and he looks like Jacob by taking steroids. 

-Embry is freezing Quill out too.

-Its the weekend and you have lots of homework, so you don’t go out and see Quill. 

-On Monday, back at school. Quill hasn’t turned up. But you see Jacob across the cafeteria, and he looks at you with sympathy. 

- You try getting in contact with Quill. Same result with Jacob and Embry.

-You don’t like to sit alone. So you focus all your energy on passing you exams

-You spend all your lunch times studying in the Library.

- You bump into Jacob in the halls one day

  • -he totally did it on purple as an excuse to talk to you
  • “Sorry, Y/N” he says helping you pick up your things. 
  • “Why? Your not a stranger to hurting people on purpose, why on accident then?”
  • “I don’t want to do this to you. Just know that.”
  • Having gathered everything back, “Have fun in your little gang, Jake.”
  • You’ve hurt him. But you don’t know that.

-Your in second period when you hear the news, Embry is back. 

  • Your excited, to know he’s back. 
  • But your also very bitter and lonely right now. He doesn’t know how much he hurt you the most. His absence cutting into you like an unhealing wound that refuses to close. 
  • Your toss between confronting him or leaving him be. 
  • After all, if he is fine leaving you without even a vague explanation, why run back?
  • You skip third period you would of had with him and go to the nurses office, just so you can think better without his presence. 
  • When its lunch, you go the library in your usual seat. 
  • you make it the rest of the day without seeing him.

-Its raining outside when the bell goes, and you make sure your the first out the door. You make it home in record him.

-You try holding back tears, refusing to let yourself cry for him. 

-You let the tears fall in the shower, because you can let the tears be disguised in the running water. 

-You get the first text back from any of them. It’s Embry.

  • Hey

-You can picture him when he sends the message. Bored and wanting to kill time, so he messages you. 

-Don’t message back. Don’t give satisfaction. 

-You don’t, instead, you go out. You are Y/N. And you will not wallow in your room. 

-You put on your boots and go on a walk in the forest, along your favorite trail. Ironically, it was Embry that showed you this one. The path was more narrow, less traveled. 

 -In the corner of your eye, you see something zip past you. 

Originally posted by wwhatfinn

-It was too fast for your eyes to catch. But you know you saw something. 

-YOu paced yourself as you walked down the track, listening around you. It was like your skin was crawling with the eye’s that were on you.

-You made your way back, faster, this time. And again, it was like something was watching you, closely. 

-getting in your car and locking it, you peered out the front window and into the treeline. 

-There it was. Not a bear. But a wolf, the size of a horse. YOur jaw went slack as you stared back at it. 

-You felt a weird sensation coil inside you. Despite the shocking intimidation of the wolf, it looked … tamed. Could you say that. It’s eyes never left yours. 

-When you got home. YOu told no one what you saw. Strangely protective of the information.

-At school, the guys you used to call your friends pulled a complete 180 on you. Even Quill had returned. 

- You’ve seen Jacob. But you hadn’t seen Embry and Quill yet. … And man did you fear for what they were pumping into their bodies. 

-There was a lot of things you wanted to say to them at that moment, tangents and vents loaded and ready to be said, but instead all that blurted out was: “Didn’t your parents ever say to stay away from Drugs?”

-They grinned. This was the You they knew. 

- Jacob was grinning. Quill was smirking, barely containing his happiness and Embry was just staring at you. In a way that made you feel very self-conscious.

  • Jacob was the first to speak
  • “Skip school with us, just this one day.”
  • “No.”
  • Quill leaned forward, “Y/N, trust me, you’ll love this. You won’t even be angry anymore.”
  • “Nuh-ah, I’m not even an athlete, there is no way I’m getting into and taking whatever the hell you are. 
  • They rolled their eyes. 
  • “I promise you we’re not recruiting you into a gang, sort-of.” 
  • That was it with your resolve. Not that you put up much of a fight. You missed them all dearly, and you knew they would never put you in danger. 
  • “Fine.”

-Turned out they weren’t in a Gang. 

-they told you the truth. 

-After all, the stories of the Spirit Warriors is in your heritage too. 

-Embry walked with you down the beach, “So, how much do you remember about imprinting?”

You stared at him, taking in his hopeful expression, “Y-you did not?”

He grinned, “Yeah … your my imprint.”

- You loved it. 

~Admin Bree

Soul (Jimin x Reader)

You’ve never really had angelic tendencies, and Jimin’s never really encouraged them; he is, after all, a demon.

a collab with @taesthetes and @zephyoongist

SummaryYoongi | Hoseok | Taehyung | Jin | Jungkook | Namjoon (M)

fluff, 2.5k words, jimin/reader, angel + demon au

You first meet Jimin when you’re five years old, your white wings barely functional; carefully, cautiously, you try to lower yourself onto the ground, and manage to accidentally land in a pile of…deer…poop. You wince and gag.

Jimin, who had been chasing flitting shadows and stretching his ebony wings nearby, witnesses the incident and laughs, (unbearably) loudly.

“Shut up,” you growl, clenching your fists. “Mind your own business, damn demon.

He only laughs harder, as if set on pissing you off. Thoroughly annoyed, you bend down, grab a handful of the literal shit, and chuck it straight at his face.

He doesn’t laugh at you for a good few years after that.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Alo, Latin for nourish, cherish, support, sustain, maintain, keep. (I just really like Latin tbh)

“Tuum cor meum servare
Mea custodiat cor tuum ad
Ut altera vita per amorem posse.”

There were tears streaming over Prompto’s cheeks as the latin phrase was repeated carefully. Noctis smiling at him gently as he spoke, squeezing his hands. The dark suit he wore offset his blue eyes and Prompto swallowed hard, it was his turn.

In tradition he spoke the words in English, lips shaping around them as confidently as he’d ever said anything.

“Thy heart, I have committed; To keep my heart In order to love in the next life.“

The formality would’ve made him laugh in any other situation but he couldn’t find it in himself to do now. The silver band that Noctis slipped into place, and the black one he returned to the King, anchored him.

Something that became especially important as Noctis cupped his cheeks carefully, thumbs rubbing over his freckles to clear the tears. Prompto shivered at the intensity of Noctis’ gaze and found himself amazed as he realized crystal blue tears were rolling down Noctis’ cheeks and hitting the floor with musical tinkles.

The King dipped his head and pressed a gentle kiss too Prompto’s lips. He tried to keep it chaste but the singing in his blood, the call that he had felt since the very start, made it impossible. He flung his arms around Noctis’ neck, uncaring of his elegant white suit, and kissed him hard. Tongue pushing at the seam of his lips, which Noctis indulged with a smile that Prompto felt.

The sound of a throat lightly clearing reminds Prompto of where they are and he pulls away with a sheepish smile. Noctis though just presses their foreheads together and clasps his hand.

“Ready, King of mine?”

Prompto huffs but smiles just the same and they turn as one to face the room, married, at last,


Letting Down Your Hair in A Room With a View

This is the story of a romance between two people from Edwardian England who meet in Italy where anything appears to be possible. It was originally a novel by E. M. Forster, and then was made into a film in 1985 by Merchant-Ivory.

When it come to fashion, you get a lot of the buttoned-up looks with assorted trims which prevailed in very early 20th Century. That was the formal wear of public life, as it was for most of the past century. Precisely because you didn’t let your hair down everywhere and with everyone, when you did, it was a very big deal. Only the chosen few had the privilege of sharing those privileges moments. Helena Bonham Carter is the young woman who plays impetuous music on the piano, but will she break free of other conventions, and admit that she loves Julian Sands? And will Maggie Smith ever stop being so dutifully annoying? Watch and find out.

Hardly Working

Norm hated having to check to make sure the construction company he hired was actually doing their job. He knew someone had to do it though. After the last debacle with the foreman his bosses were going to make sure this one actually finished on time. And it was going to be his job to make sure it happened. His boss trusted him since he was the most senior member. At 54 he’d worked with many contractors. It wasn’t hard for him to find ones he’d trusted. He just wished he could watch from his air conditioned office.

‘Lazy good for nothing pieces of garbage,’ he’d mutter to himself as he followed the foreman around the site. He couldn’t believe how many breaks these ‘men’ were taking. It’s like they were actually doing hard work. And that they had to be out in the hot sun all day. It didn’t matter to Norm though. Even though he was sweating just from walking around the site. He didn’t realize that everyone working there was hotter than he was.

The foreman led him back to the trailer. Everything he’d been shown was up to his standards. However Norm wasn’t quite convinced. He wanted to make sure that it was going to be fine this time. It would be easy for the foreman to show him everything he was supposed to see. He was just going to double check some of the work.

It was pretty easy for him to walk around without a guide. He’d been shown the place several times. If any of the guys looked at him; he just gave them a wave and kept walking. It wasn’t until he found one of the workers sitting down on the job that he got mad.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” Norm’s tone was harsh. The guy lazily looked up from his phone.

“My job?”

“Your job?!” Norm was astounded at the worker answering so sarcastically. “Like Hell you are. All you’re doing is playing on your phone. You’re not doing anything!”

“If I’m not doing it right then you do it!” the worker pushed his hammer over. It fell to the ground with a loud bang.  Norm couldn’t believe how rude he was being.

“No respect for your elders,” he chastised the younger man like he had actually known what a hards day work was. “When I was younger you’d get more than just a talking to. Acting all high and mighty just because I’m a bit older than you. I can’t believe this.” Norm bent over and grabbed the hammer.  ‘The insolence of the youth,’ he thought to himself. It didn’t matter. He was going to prove a point to the young’un. The old guy threw the hammer over his shoulder and swung it down.

“Back in my day we actually had to work for a living.” Norm hammered down the peg again. “It wasn’t put on those fancy ass cell phones you got in your pocket. We had to do work every day. Hard work. Didn’t have these god damned machines that break all the god damned time. It was real man’s work.” Mike had pretty much stopped listening. He didn’t really care. As long as someone was doing the work it didn’t matter how it got done. All he had to do was sit back and watch while the other guy worked.

Norm on the other hand didn’t notice how the work was actually getting easier. For an old man one or two swings should have sent him completely out of commission. But he was too busy being angry to even notice. Mike never did a god damned thing and Norm was responsible for making sure the shit got done. Through his anger Norm didn’t notice what was changing. His khaki pants turned into dark blue jeans. Dirt had stained them so badly that washing them was practically pointless. His black shoes lightened in color into the brown steel toe boots. ‘Perfect for kicking Mike’s lily ass.’ He smirked at the idea that’d get him fired. His hands gripped the hammer’s pole even tighter. Even through the gloves he could feel his strong calloused hands. They were good for gripping just about anything. He’d make jokes on how the gloves were just a formality.

Years of his life were adding back on to him. His skin was starting to tighten on top of deep well developed muscle. With each powerful swing it felt easier to swing the heavy hammer again. He was a tough son of a bitch that’s for sure. It looked like he spent years building his body on top of working hard at work. The higher ups made sure he was happy. He could practically run the day by himself. But safety reasons he had to have a partner. Besides working with someone should help the day go by a bit faster. 

After a few more swings he’d started to break a sweat. “Damn,” he cursed, “wish I could be like those lazy shits in their air conditioned offices.” Norm rolled up his sleeves showing off his thick arms. He wiped the sweat from his brow and flexed his admiring the strength he’d built up over the years of working.

“Like you could ever do that,” Mike laughed at him. “All you know how to do is hammer shit.”

“Must be why your mom likes me so much,” Norm grinned.

Mike got up from his lazy nap. “Fuck you dude.” He stood up and tried to act big. He was a pretty tall guy. And he had quite a bit of weight on him. It was just all stuck around his stomach. The only thing he was good at was posturing. Norm knew he was a little bitch deep down.

“You actually gonna do something?” Despite his 5’6” height Norm wasn’t about to back down. He stared defiantly up at his much taller coworker. His arms went wide making him look even bigger. Mike wasn’t about to get fired for something that stupid. He scoffed at Norm and backed down. Norm gave him a mean glare. “Like I thought. You ain’t gonna do shit today.”

George babbles aimlessly about college age Frisk headcanons

I want more of my college age Frisk to exist but I’m too tired to draw so I’m going to babble about them instead

I keep thinking about how they used to be shorter than “Mr. Sans” but they kept growing until eventually they got taller than him (and now all his little kiddos are taller than him and he’s not sure how to feel)
They never get taller than “Mr. Papyrus” but it’s easier to give him skele-hugs when they’re all grown
The image of Frisk dancing with their childhood crush at some sort of formal event gives me life
And then also Flowey getting all jealous because he can tell Frisk is still a bit sweet on the goofy skeleton is a great image, and Frisk reassures him that Papyrus continues to (sadly) be out of their league. Flowey is still a jealous salt flower though.
Frisk is a responsible student and works very hard and sometimes they fall alseep at the little desk in their room and the goat parents come in and give them tea and blankets while Flowey yells at the two of them quietly to not disturb the sleeping kiddo.
Mettaton is the one who gave Frisk their haircut and gives them free concert tickets and calls whenever possible (and of course Napstablook is there too) and whenever he can he and Frisk and Napstablook all go shopping and Mettaton finds all of these outfits for Frisk to try on and buys them all for them and buys them snacks and basically spoils them to pieces
Undyne makes sure Frisk gets enough exercise and is a healthy college student and takes them out for runs and does yoga with them (and sometimes Papyrus comes too!)
And then they both watch anime and eat junk with Alphys and it’s a great time
Frisk has to remember not to bring Flowey to lectures because sometimes he goes all salt flower on the professor and gets them both kicked out which doesn’t make Frisk happy in any respect

hweeeee I have SO MUCH more I could babble about but I’ve babbled enough
I want to draw more college kiddo
But I am sleepy
So take this blurb

…Because of segregation, the languages spoken by blacks and whites are moving toward mutual unintelligibility.
…The linguistic drift of black English does, however, symbolize the breakdown of communication between the races, and suggests at least two additional barriers to black socioeconomic advancement.
US schools rely almost exclusively on the standard dialect for instruction and exposition. Thus when children grow up speaking Black English Vernacular rather than Standard American English, their educational progress is seriously hampered. When ghetto children enter schools where texts and instructional materials all are written in Standard English, and where teachers speak primarily in this dialect, they experience a culture shock akin to that felt by immigrant children from non-English-speaking countries. Because the language they are being taught to read and write is not the same as the one they speak, their confidence and self-esteem are threatened, thereby undermining the entire learning process. Unless special efforts are made to compensate for the wide discrepancy between the language of the classroom and the spoken language of everyday life, formal education is likely to be a frustrating and alienating experience for ghetto children.
—  Douglas Massey and Nancy A. Denton, Chapter 6: “The Perpetuation of the Underclass,” p. 163-“64 (American apartheid: segregation and the making of the underclass)