i want to enroll in my classes though

chibbycookie  asked:

Do you know of any ASL resources by any chance?? I really would like to learn

Check out my “Deaf Guide” if you have other questions c:

I am interested in learning American Sign Language, where do I start?

Thank you so much for showing an interest in learning ASL! It always makes me happy to see people take an interest in such a wonderful language. In order to have the best learning experience enrolling into a course at your local community college or other school is best. Here are some links though for those who want to get started or do not have time to enroll in to a class at the moment. I personally like LifePrint and ASL Dictionary, but will list other resources that have been recommended by other d/Deaf/HoH people.

LifePrint - LifePrint’s Youtube | Signing Savvy | Handspeak | ASL Dictionary | Fingerspelling Practice

Cooking Lessons and the Future

First off I wanted to say that this is is something that took on a life of itself and was not the original ending I had planned out, but it just flowed and this is where it ended up. Second, this is the last fic in my perfect date series unless someone makes a request for another. Tagging @blindbae for her love of Iggy and @alicemoonwonderland for requesting the idea. @itshaejinju I’ll be working on your request momentarily

Long days were becoming the norm for you as your career as a trauma nurse started to take off. Your days were filled examining patients and helping the doctors with extreme precision. The trauma bay was no joke as you tended to plenty members of the Crownsguard and civilians alike. Someday you were going to go back to school and earn your medical degree. Maybe it would happen sooner rather than later.

With those longer days came seeing Ignis less. You missed relishing his scent of Jasmine and Ebony as you woke from a deep slumber. You missed watching him cook your favorite meals. You missed the feeling of his gloveless hands trailing down your body as you made love. You just missed him. His job as the prince’s advisor kept Ignis quite busy as well and it pained you how rarely the two of you saw each other.

As you unlocked the door of your apartment and crossed the threshold, a smile came across your face. Ignis moseyed around your kitchen as he put groceries away that he had just purchased. Obviously, your fridge and pantry were looking sparse. You admired the way he looked after you like that. You probably would have died by now if it weren’t for your loving boyfriend.

“Good afternoon my darling. How was your day?” Ignis questioned as you removed your shoes and purse from your body

Keep reading

Unexpected Ending.

His charm had somehow led me here to his place and now, my body was growing hot with his touch. Not even five hours ago I didn’t know the guy and now he was pushing all of the right buttons to get me into his grasp. I knew what the purpose of this visit was and I was all for seeing how well he could satisfy me sexually and how I could do the same for him.

Calum lowered himself over my half nude body, trailing his lips up my stomach and around my bra to my chest, taking the skin gently between his lips. His next move to my neck caused me to moan in pleasure. “Fuck,” I released as he reached my spot.

He pushed himself forward and at that moment, I heard a loud thump and him letting a curse leave his lips. I looked over concerned to see Calum covering a spot on his forehead with his hand while he grimaced in pain and rolled off of me.

“Oh my God. Are you okay?” I propped myself up on my elbows and looked over at him as he kept his palm to his head. “Yeah. I just hit my head.” And from then on, I couldn’t contain my laughter as I howled out. I had never been around someone so clumsy who could hit their head on the head board of a bed amidst a sexual moment. Talk about embarrassing.

Calum glared at me and my laughter continued, eventually causing him to crack a smile and laugh at himself. “I’m a clutz. I’m sorry. Did I ruin the moment?” I quickly nodded, unable to stop howling still. He reached over behind him and grabbed a pillow, hitting me with it playfully. “You’re laughing and I could end up with a knot on my head. How will I explain that?”

I stopped enough to speak, “You can always tell people the truth. That you were kissing a girl’s neck and hit your head on the headboard.” He shook his head and chuckled. “No thanks.”

“Let me get you some ice,” I offered. I quickly hopped out of the bed in nothing but my undergarments and headed to the kitchen to make a small bag of ice. I fumbled around the unfamiliar room to find a bag and once I did, went to the freezer to grab for some ice before heading back to the bedroom.

“Here.” I sat down on the bed next to Calum and placed the cold ice to the spot he had been holding. He winced at the cool temperature before he got used to it. “Thanks,” he smiled.

“No problem. So tell me about yourself while we’re sitting here. I feel like I don’t know too much about you.” And that was the truth. The only thing we covered in the nightclub were basics about each other. He knew I was enrolled in university classes and I knew he played for Arsenal though that was something I knew way before he announced it. I just didn’t want him to know that.

“Well I’m a clumsy person if you haven’t noticed already. I love listening to music and just hanging out. What about you? Do you have a boyfriend?” he blurted out. I quickly shook my head ‘no’. “No boyfriend. I would have expected you to know that. Do you take me as the type to cheat on my boyfriend with a one night stand?” I raised my eyebrow with curiosity.

“Not at all. I just figured I should ask. I don’t want some man coming after me. That was probably a question I should have asked hours ago, huh?” he chuckled. “Definitely because it’s a bit late now.”

I removed the ice cold bag from his forehead for a moment to make sure the area was not bruising before placing it back. “How about another question: Are you an Arsenal fan?”

“What if I said I wasn’t?” I teased. “I’d have to turn you into a fan. That’s all.”

It seemed our conversation continued on forever from then as I watched the clock reach 11 pm and the next I looked, it was 2 in the morning. I hadn’t even noticed as we both shared little details about our life and funny stories about any and everything. What was supposed to be a night of sex turned into so much more and I was actually thankful.

“You look sleepy,” he observed. “We can finish our chat in the morning.” He pulled the comforter comfortably over us and laid his head back on the pillow, shutting off the light next to him.

I rested on my pillow and stayed facing him. “Night,” I spoke.


I didn’t know it that day but it was the start to one amazing relationship and quite the funny story about the day me and Calum first met.

Prompt 35.

Prompt 35: Peeta is Prim’s teacher. She is having a hard time with his class and Katniss decides to confront him. [submitted by Anonymous]

Part one.  Rated K. The only warning is that I’m incapable of writing things without curse words.


It’s too quiet when I get home from work.  The television should be flashing, music blaring, teenaged giggles should be filling the room.  But it’s silent.

“Prim?”  There’s no answer to my call, no shuffling of steps, nothing.  Rationally, I know there’s no need to panic.  She’s probably in her room, studying.  Concentrating so hard that she doesn't  hear me.

Keep reading

My ballet story

Lately I have been struggling to separate my love and passion for ballet from my insecurities about it, so I wanted to talk candidly about my relationship with ballet.

I started ballet at age 3. I did one year, performed once, and said “okay, I did that. I’m done now.”

I then did gymnastics for a year or two, and decided I hated that.

At age 7, I returned to ballet, to a different studio than the one where I began. I danced there for two years under a teacher who made me hate how my body was different from the other girls, a teacher who bullied me into stage fright.

I took about a year off from dancing.

At age 10, my mom told me that the Moscow Ballet was holding auditions in my city for the children’s roles in the Nutcracker. I went, and was cast as an angel. The rehearsals were hard, I didn’t make many friends, and I was jealous of other girls my age who got to be party girls and mini-variations. But the feeling I got being on the big stage with an orchestra supporting me was a feeling I had never felt before, and knew I couldn’t give up on.

At age 11, I auditioned again, and was again cast as an angel. This time, the rehearsals were hosted and taught by a local competition studio. I enrolled in a weekly ballet class there, as well as doing the nutcracker. I was happy, I loved it there.

Though I didn’t do the Moscow Nutcracker again, I continued to dance at that studio, as a recreational dancer, doing more styles than just ballet, until I graduated high school last spring.

However, at age 15 I decided what I really loved was ballet, and I wanted it more than once a week. I re-enrolled in my old school (the bully teacher was no longer there), and started going to ballet 5 days a week plus rehearsals for galas and shows (including Nutcracker!). I also started pointe at age 15, which is very late. Going back to this school made me realize that ballet was what I wanted to do with my life. I became obsessed- I still am! I can name more members of the Bolshoi’s corps than the US Congress. But I knew I was very late in finding this passion to the extent that o did. However, I never stopped dancing at that other studio. I still consider it the home base of my dance education. But I needed to branch out.

That year at the more classical studio was amazing. I learned a massive amount, got muscle, lost weight, and I was thrilled to be en pointe. It inspired me to branch out even more: that summer I was 16, I went to a 5-week ballet summer intensive a few hours away from home.

I learned a TON there, but it broke my confidence. I was dancing with girls and boys 4, 5 years younger than me. Though I was friends with the upper-level kids my age, I never felt like their equal and I don’t think they saw me as such either- I don’t blame them, and I still like them very much! It was an inevitable imbalance. I am extremely grateful for that experience and I do believe it helped me to be a better dancer, but it also made me question myself.

The next year, my senior year of high school, I knew I needed to step it up even more. Still dancing at that original home studio, I dropped the second one and enrolled in a strict classical ballet school, a feeder school for my city’s professional ballet company. Once again, I danced with some much younger kids, though I had a few classmates my age and older. This school kicked. my. ass. and I am so grateful for that. But I never felt truly appreciated or paid much attention there. I was unhappy again. I supplemented with adult open classes, taught by a few members of the company. They were wonderful, but I was feeling more and more lost as the year went on. The insecurities hit me full force: I don’t have the ideal body type for ballet, I can’t put my leg behind my head, I can barely manage triple pirouettes and still struggle with doubles sometimes, my pointe work is of a much lower quality than someone my age would usually have, I’m wasting my parents’ money on a pipe dream…

That summer after I graduated, I went back to the old classical studio. I had a wonderful summer of dancing, and even got to perform. I was happy again.

Now, I go to one of the nation’s top 10 colleges for theatre and dance. I’m a dual major in dance and English, and I’m still pursuing interests besides ballet. I just finished my first semester there and I am very optimistic for what the future holds for me there.

I guess what I’m saying is, I took the road less-traveled. I don’t do competitions, I didn’t go to ballet boarding school to dance 7 hours a day 6 days a week, I wasn’t hustled by my parents (who have been nothing but supportive). If that IS you, congrats! I mean no disrespect; we took different paths.

I’m 18 years old and I’m not dancing with a company, and that’s okay. I’m still a ballet dancer. Those insecurities still plague me on my darker days. But every day that I dance, I’m getting better, and getting happier. If I don’t become a professional dancer, my other passions will sustain me. But I’m not going to use that as an excuse to stop trying. I’m 18 years old, and I’m not at that pre-professional level, and that’s okay. If it takes me until I’m 30 to get “good enough,” then dammit, I will find a company to hire me at age 30. I will wave a big flower in the back row of a corps in a regional theatre, I don’t care. I just want to dance ballet. but if it never happens, I won’t stop loving it! I won’t stop watching it and taking class and crying over Svetlana’s feet. It will always be in my heart no matter what the future holds- but I happen to hope the future is bright, despite all I have working against me. I found my passion late in life, and that. is. okay.

Submission: I'm a Liberal, Feminist, Sex-Positive, and I Want a Church Full Of Loving People

I believe my parents enrolled us in Catholic religion classes as a formality. Neither of them were very religious, but had been confirmed and had fairly religious parents. It was clear from the beginning, however, that religion would not be forced upon us. We didn’t have to enjoy the classes nor continue them past communion.

On contrary to my siblings who abhorred the classes and mass (though continued to confirmation), I rather enjoyed them. There was something comforting about the candles we lit in class and the way the priest spoke in church. As a child I was deeply anxious about a great deal of things and would often stay up all night worrying. Reciting the rosary helped me manage my anxiety and relax. When I was in eighth grade I began singing in a small choir with just two other girls and grew to love rehearsals where we’d turn off the lights and sing in the dark or when the elderly monsignor would thump down the aisle with his cane, singing back to us in a deep, booming voice. Rehearsals and the teen masses we sang at were laid back and the priest would often talk about silly things like the football game that was on or a movie that just came out. I felt safe and at home in church because I felt like I could always confide in someone there whether it be God or a priest or one of the girls I sang with.

However, something always seemed off to me.

My parents are staunchly liberal and pro-choice. I still remember the way my mom rolled her eyes when I brought home a pro-life bracelet from religion class (it was gone the next day). I remember how I ran home one day after elementary school to tell my mom in a hushed voice that a girl in gym class had told me that she was going to Washington D.C. to protest killing “babies when they’re still in their mother’s bellies.” I remember how my mom told me that that girl was lying (I called that same girl a liar the next day and she cried). My parents made it clear from a young age that they didn’t believe in some of the church’s teachings but continued to haul us to our classes and to mass so we could decide for ourselves what to believe.

In religion class, surrounded by pro-life teachers, I was confused. Who do I believe? My parents or my teachers? My parents or the priest, both whom I trusted? As I grew older, I began to understand the issue more as I grew aware of what abortion was. I tried to compensate my beliefs by taking a standoffish view towards abortion: it’s a horrible thing that people do and those people are sinners and I’d never do it, but I’ll never restrict someone from this. I thought this was a perfectly good way of viewing the issue. I tried to ignore pressures from other opposing views that the church had as well such as LGBTQ+ rights and the role of women while they made me uneasy. I thought if I just ignored them I’d finally learn to live happily in the church. Then, my class went on a retreat before our confirmations.

Our teacher at the retreat was loud, challenging and overwhelming. He publicly shamed anyone who looked remotely uninterested in what he was saying (which was about 75% of the class as we were eighth graders on a weekend) and seemed to look down on us. At one point, he made us look behind us at the empty chairs in the back of the room. This was when he said, “Those are the seats for our brothers and sisters who didn’t make it. They were murdered by their parents.” He continued on by urging us to pray for those who had been aborted and then started to shame people who have gotten abortions. Things started to come crashing down around me. I remembered earlier in the night how my friend had cried. He had been doing the same thing, but instead shaming LGBTQ+ people. She had raised her hand and inquired about her sister who was gay. In a tiny voice, she asked, “Is she going to hell?”

His response shocked me: yes, unless she gives up her sinful ways and turned back to the church. I remember my indignation. Being gay isn’t a choice. That much I knew. Being gay wasn’t something you could give up.

That’s when I realized that an abortion IS a choice. And that sometimes people have to choose it. That this man had no right to shame someone whose circumstances he wasn’t aware of. Like my friend’s sister whose circumstances he had no idea about (if he was insisting that she could give them up), he had no idea under what circumstances someone chose an abortion. I went home that night, fuming, and when I told my mom, we spent hours discussing abortion and how it’s someone’s personal choice and they have a right to it. I asked her if it makes you a bad person and she told me no. She told me about her grandmother who, in a drunken state, had confided in her about a time when she was 17 and had “made a baby go away.” She was not a bad person. She had gone on to live a full life with four children. She was not a bad person because she had made the decision not to deliver a child at 17. My mother explained to me that she had made the decision that was best for her and had she not made that decision her life would’ve been completely different in a way that she might not have enjoyed.

I did decide to get confirmed, but afterwards I resigned from church choir and have not willingly entered a church since then. After that retreat, I felt all the uncomfortable pressures come crashing down upon me. I saw the way women are treated, the way virginity is coveted, the way non-heterosexual people are rejected, and the overwhelming pressures and ignorance of a pro-life attitude. “Quitting church” allowed me to explore feminism, sexuality and choice. Now, at 18 years old, I’m sex-positive, liberal, a feminist and pro-choice. I’m in a committed, loving and sexual relationship where we’ve decided that if our multiple methods ever did fail we’d abort because now is not the time for a baby. I’m planning on working in Planned Parenthood during my college years. I’m also considering minoring in Women’s Studies along with my Political Science major which I intend to use to go into a political field where I will push for comprehensive sexual education, removal of abortion restrictions and more funding towards sexual healthcare.

I think about the church sometimes. On one hand, I believe that if I hadn’t left I would have been less likely to explore all that I love now: sexual education, feminism and politics. However, on the other hand, not having religion leaves an empty void in my life. Something less to hang onto when I lie awake at night. I plan on trying to find religion again in college. However, I’m looking for a Catholic religion that will support me if I ever need an abortion, that will not shame me for my lack of virginity, that will break down gender stereotypes, that will help me in encouraging my future children to engage in safe sexual conduct, and will accept my future children with love if they’re gay. I want a church that will stand by the belief that God will always love me and will always forgive me without the usual exceptions (“except if you’re gay…or want an abortion…”) I want a church full of loving people who follow the Lord’s teachings, not a church that uses them to hate and reject. I know that this is out there. I just haven’t found it yet. 

Harvard University
“This is an original rap from my future Harvard classmate. We were attempting to do a comment rap battle inspired by a Princeton rap video, but then he blew everyone out of the water with this gem right here." 

Yo, listen up, y’all, cuz I’m about to spit da truth
And my apologies in advance if I come off as uncouth
But there’s been somethin’ on my mind, and I’ma come right out and say it
And I’m hopin’ I can find da perfect words to convey it

See, I’m headed to a certain college in Massachusetts 
And I’m constantly afraid that I’ll come off as a nuisance
When peeps be all like “Yo, homez, where ya headed next year?”
And I’m like “oh, umm… Harvard’s where I’ll start my college career.”

Call us what you will. Yeah, I know there’s a consensus
That some of us can come off as arrogant or pretentious
But we ain’t all that bad! We just have dope school spirit
Which you’ll probably see next year at Da Game; learn to FEAR IT!

And speaking of Da Game, how ‘bout dem Yalies, am I right?
Why have a bulldog as a mascot if you ain’t got no BITE?
Sucks to suck, I guess! Who wants to spend four years in New Haven?
“Nevermore!” quoth Yale victims, a la Poe’s “Da Raven”

Shout-out to John Harvard! THERE’S a man with a vision.
Thanks to him, I’ll pahk my cah in Hahvahd Yahd and bleed CRIMSON!
Though I’m still confused as hell how I got into dis school,
I’ve gotta admit… Harvard U is soundin’ pretty fuckin’ cool. 

So pack yo bags for Visitas, and peep da Facebook group!
And buy stacks on stacks of Harvard swag next time you’re at Da COOP.
We on dat Cambridge grind, mothafucka, enrolled like a boss
Harvard Class of Twenty-Eighteen represent – VERITAS!

- Da Fre$h Prince of Cambridge