reminders of why i study english

wonky-glass-ornament  asked:

English is seriously the stupidest language. I mean, if we read a word in English we have never heard pronounced aloud, odds are good we won't know how to actually say it. Even if we grew up in it. I hate English and it's my only real language. :P

When I first started to study English 20 years ago, even our teacher was like “English doesn’t even make any sense. Why would you have a language where are exceptions and exceptions to those exceptions and exceptions to those exceptions of exceptions and then make almost everybody in the world learn it?”

And the spelling and pronunciation drives me crazy. It. Doesn’t. Make. Any. Sense. At. All. Judging from my spelling here you might think I’m good at it. I’m honestly not, I’m horrible. I have to check constantly how even regular words are spelt and I use autocorrect in mobile and Grammarly add-on on my laptop (that kindly has corrected like 10 spelling errors from this post too -.-) so I might even try to appear like I know what I’m writing.

I can also now reveal that IRL I have a horrible accent. You couldn’t mistake me for a native English speaker even if I spoke perfect English. Sometimes I google how to pronounce words I have seen used but never heard, like a while ago I googled how to pronounce ‘bae’. I have very little opportunities to speak English (and even when I do, it’s usually with people who are not native speakers). I think last time I spoke English was last summer (and that was mostly with people whose native tongue was French. You can just imagine how well that went).

Like I get English has been written for at least 1000 years now (or something, I haven’t studied linguistics) while my native tongue less than 500 (and like 200 if we talk about other than biblical texts). There will be some weird remnants from the time when language was spoken differently. But does it still have to be so hard?

tl;dr: All I’m saying is that we all should speak Esperanto or something.

I love being reminded that I will always look stupid because of my limited English.

Thank you for letting me know about the banter!!
It really helps me a lot since I still can’t catch words correctly…
He would say “MT’s inside” if he were to. There’s no “’s” in his dialogue, so I should’ve noticed that it’s not MT and it should be another word.
Mm. Hints are all around but I can’t see ‘em.
This is why I desperately need closed captions all the time. Please. Show English subtitles all the time…

Well, I’ll never give up studying English until I make no mistakes! Or end my life. Looooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooong way to go. Yup.

Even though the top banter is the same in both versions…
I just love both versions veeery much.
I’ll stick with English to learn it, but trust me, Japanese version is also nice!!

…Oh no. I can’t tell the difference between “stick with” and “stick to…”
Have no confidence that I can follow the story in English…
Well, my love toward FFXV will do. I hope.

INDEX of my arts

I think I need to remind myself that I literally have my entire life to study languages and I don’t need to be fluent in everything right now or worry about my growing list of languages that I want to study cause I do have time.

Fandom: Haikyuu

Pairing: Daisuga

Title: Burning pancakes and dancing idiots

just fluff without plot. Suga tries to make to pancakes, and daichi is a cuddly dog.

The first song was soft. Crouching in front of an incredibly decrepit radio, Suga’s right hand fiddled with the channel knob, while his other maneuvered the antenna in erratic circles (were antennas still even a thing? No. Definitely not). Only for split seconds does he manage to catch some stations in focus, but it turns back into noisy static just as quickly. He quits after the third round. The only clear station was the first one, so he leaves it alone.

In front of the refrigerator he pulls out ingredients— milk, Aunt Jemima Pancake Mix—and sets it out on the counter.

In between pouring the mix into a measuring cup and dumping it into a large bowl, Suga’s head bobs to the beat of the song. He catches himself, right before he began humming. The song was sickeningly sweet and the lyrics sounded like they were written by a love stricken preteen. It was gross. He hums anyway.

Above him, the air conditioning whirs on. It was loud and a bit deafening, but even more than that, it was freezing. Suga forgets what a health nut Daichi is, and how he thinks the cold ‘wards off illnesses’ (‘You know what wards off illnesses,’ Suga tells him one day. ‘Catching them’). Suga shivered violently in his boxer shorts and worn out shirt.

He makes his way back to the bedroom, where Daichi’s large sleeping form has taken up most of the mattress. Making little noise, Suga moves around the bed. He reaches for the dresser and pulls on the drawer he knows Daichi keeps his sweat pants in. The soft material slips over his legs with a little too much ease and room so he tightens the drawstring around the waistband. He’s doing this while walking back to the door and doesn’t take into account the idle volleyball laying in his path. Before he can process something other than his foot touching a round and cold surface, Suga falls backwards.

“W-Wh—, “he stammers, and lands hard onto his butt. He sucks in a large amount of air and lets it out slowly. Suga sits there awhile, collecting his bearings and letting the pain ride out of his system. When it passes, he stands up carefully and peaks at Daichi through the corner of his eyes, then sighs in relief to see him in the same position.

Quickly, he walks to the kitchen. He sets the first pancake to make and is about to flip it when footsteps plod heavily into the room.

Slow dawdling fingers circle Suga’s slim and pale waist. The warmth they gave off melts through the thin fabric and almost burns his skin.

“Good morning” Suga said, forcing his attention back to the frying batter. A head rests on his shoulder as those knobby hands extend into arms, encircling his abdomen.

Daichi’s breath tickled his ear as he replied in a scratchy voice,” Mornin’”. The weight of his body keeps Suga anchored to the spot. In this immovable position, he realizes he could hardly reach the shelf for plates. He wiggles his waist, to create space for him to move. Daichi doesn’t notice (or care), and Suga begins to worry; after flipping the pancake over, he sees some charred bits around the edges.

If it burns, he thinks, Daichi is definitely eating it.

Daichi, unaware of his soon-to-be fate, only snuggles closer to Suga’s warm body. The air conditioning hasn’t turned off yet, and he couldn’t find his last pair of clean sweat pants after waking up.

Suga places a hand on the forearm resting on his torso. It was his way of signaling to let go, but he stayed trapped in those large biceps.

“Daichi” He finally said.

Daichi hummed in response.

“… Kinda need you to let go,” his voice is airy and unassertive. In his head, Suga was losing a battle with the rational part of his brain.

Daichi hummed louder, this time to acknowledge Suga. He loosens his grip, freeing Suga to grab a plate. As he picks two off the shelf, he set it next to the stove and moved the pancake on top of it.  He poured more batter into the stove, wary of the pops and cackles.

Suga thinks about how much he should make for the both of them, and Daichi, leaning against the counter off to the side, tugs at his shirt until Suga is enveloped in his arms again. Daichi nuzzles his head in the crook of his neck. He feels Suga’s bed hair tickle the side of face, and he knows his own unshaven facial hairs do the same to Suga because he winces when Daichi rubbed his face against him. He mumbles a lazy apology.

The tune changed on the radio. It was the same easy-going rhythm, but slower.

“I didn’t know you liked this kind of music,” Daichi finally voiced, his voice thick and rough around the edges. He was suddenly grateful his head was on Suga’s shoulder, because he hadn’t brushed his teeth yet.

“I don’t hate it. Every other station was just out of focus,” Suga shrugs. One of Daichi’s hand began intertwining with his.

“Yeah” he sighed,” that radios really old. And living out in the country doesn’t exactly help either.”

Everything in Daichi’s house was a bit outdated. The stove in the kitchen still ran on gas, all the rooms had Shoji doors, and Suga remembered Daichi had a tatami mat until their second year of high school. Suga’s house was like that too, though, so he figures it’s just a country thing.

Remembering the pancake, Suga rushed out of Daichi’s arms, who hadn’t been paying attention to his loosening grip.

“Thank god” Suga muttered, when he realized the pancake was still edible. He let it sit on its other side, and decided he should shorten the flame so he doesn’t burn anything.

Daichi glues himself back to Suga’s body.

“You’re very affectionate today.”

“It’s just cold,” Daichi says, although he sounds flustered.

Suga laughs. “Shouldn’t you just turn the air conditioning down?”

“Yeah… But I like this better”

Suga ducks his head and smiles. Daichi’s affection reminded him of a dog. A big, fluffy dog with separation anxiety. Suga felt his stomach flutter with a warm feeling as Daichi tightens his grip. The air conditioning, he notices, has turned off. But whether his face was hot from that or Daichi’s shared body warmth, he wouldn’t know.

His ears tune into the music playing then, and listens as the lyrics to the song only just begin. The English lyrics, he realizes. He manages to catch a few words, but the rest escapes his knowledge.

Daichi was more into foreign bands than Suga. Suga liked them, but he usually couldn’t understand the lyrics and that annoyed him. Not to mention it reminded him of all the studying he had to do for English Class, definitely not something he enjoyed thinking about during his down time.

“You’re into foreign music, right?” he inquired, looking over his shoulder.

“Uh, yeah,”  Daichi sounded like he was dozing off just now. Why did he bother getting up in the first place?

“What about it?”

“Do you know this song?”

There was a silent moment as Daichi listened to the song intently.

He lifted his head suddenly.

“I do!” He smiled toothlessly, nuzzling his head further into Suga’s shoulder. “It’s old, so you might not know it.”

“What’s it called?”

Suga flips the pancake onto the plate. He grabs the bowl of batter and pours some into the pan. The steam rising up from it licks his cheeks, and droplets of sweat uncomfortably form on his brow.

“Pictures of You. Why, you into it?”

Suga shrugged nonchalantly, using the back of his wrist to wipe off sweat.

“Yeah, it’s pretty.”

Daichi began humming the lyrics into his ear, swaying both of their bodies to the rhythm. The song wasn’t a favorite of Daichi’s, but he didn’t hate it either—after all, he paid Itunes to have it on his Ipod. But the surprise of hearing a song usually only heard through his own headphones made him excited. Unable to help himself, he parted his lips—and sang.

It started soft, but with each passing verse his voice gained more traction.

“Shut up already!” Suga joked, grinning to himself. “You cannot sing.”

Daichi only sang louder, pulling their bodies until no visible space between them was left. Suga stopped holding back his laughter, and allowed his body to shake as he struggled to catch his breath. Hearing his boyfriend laugh made Daichi sing even more boisterously out of tune.

LOOKING SO LONG…,” his voice echoed throughout the house, each terribly carried note giving away the smile in his voice. “…AT THESE PICTURES OF YOU.”

Suga was bent over the stove, hands gripping Daichi’s arms to try to contain the pain in his stomach, giggles erupting over his tongue. He was absolutely wheezing. Suddenly, he felt Daichi loosen his grip and grapple onto Suga’s thin wrist. He spun him around, eyes closed and mouth opened wide as he continued to sing.

“Dance with me!” Daichi suggested in between verses. Their hands were intertwined at their sides, both of them chest to chest. Suga raised an eyebrow.

“Now? This isn’t a romantic comedy.”

Daichi brushed his comment aside, widening his eyes and raising his brow.

“Dance with me” He whined, drawing the words out slower. He moved their hands up and down slowly, impatiently, stretching out his fingers, enclosing them around Suga’s knuckles again.

“Do you even know how to dance, because I don’t”

Then Daichi jutted his bottom lip out pleadingly. Yeah, the whole ‘my boyfriend is as affectionate as a puppy’ is cute up to a point.

“The songs gonna end soon,” Daichi reminded him. He lips were right beside Suga’s ear now.

Suga sighed, placing his forehead on Daichi’s chest.

“Sure,” He resigned. But while he attempted concealed his beaming expression away from Daichi, Daichi heard it anyway.

Suga slid his hand from his boyfriends grip and traveled up his arm softly. He stopped at his bicep, where he spread and pressed his palm intimately against his skin. Daichi followed him by placing his hands at Sugas waist. Suga lifted his head, trying not to laugh at how ridiculous he felt.

But Daichi seemed unfazed by this, as he led the both around the room in exaggerated steps. He still sang the song in a terribly booming voice. Suga struggled to keep up with him, but whenever he felt himself slipping, Daichi’s hands would squeeze his hips. Suga couldn’t help it anymore—he burst out into a fit giggles. Daichi grinned, spinning them quickly. At some point, they ignored the music behind them, dancing unorthodoxly without any sort of rhythm.

Daichi dipped Suga randomly, surprising him. When he looked down, Suga’s smile was so wide and bright he lost his breath, his heart palpitating erratically in his chest as he tried to keep his own face more or less composed.

“There was nothing in the world, that I’ve ever wanted more…” Daichi found his voice getting lower and lower and Suga had his eyes closed, so he didn’t see Daichi’s apple-tinted cheeks.

The fire alarm screeched throughout the house. Both boys were shaken, looking up to find the source of the noise. Daichi loosened his grip in his shock, causing an equally shock Suga to fall to the ground for the second time that day.

Daichi only noticed a moment later. He recovered quickly to help him up, extending an arm out to him.

“I’m so sorry” he apologized sincerely, as Suga settled back on the soles of his feet.

Meanwhile, Suga rubbed his severely bruised bottom and turned a head to look at the stove. The previously cooking pancake was covered in a fog of gray smoke. Running over to it, he turned off the stove quickly, and began searching for a towel. Rushing back to the charcoal pancake, he placed it over the pan. Daichi had leaned over the radio to the window, opening it to ventilate the house. Suga covered his mouth, flapping a hand in front of his face to ward off the fumes. His coughs worried Daichi.

He walked over to where he was hunched over, rubbing his back and creasing his eyebrows.

“Are you ok?” he asked. “You want water?”

Suga, unable to speak, signaled with a thumbs up. His eyes, like Daichi’s, were a bit wet from the smoke, and he rubbed his eyes.

Daichi snorted. It was probably inappropriate, but being like this with his boyfriend, all lovey-dovey so early in the morning (in fact, so lovey-dovey, they almost set his kitchen on fire), made him inexplicably blithe and whimsical. His shoulders shook, and he used both hands to cover his face. Soon the snorts turned into giggles, and then louder giggles, until he full-on laughed.

Suga stared at him, perplexed for a few seconds. He was still waiting on that cup of water. But watching Daichi laugh was contagious. Small chortles erupted out of him, and then he was laughing alongside Daichi. The muscles in his stomach pinched in pain, so he doubles over while wrapping both arms around his torso. Daichi’s hands have moved away from his face and held onto the counter for support. When they think they’re about stop, they would glance at each other, and start laughing all over again.

Suga, at some point, slips on the tile floor. Instead of picking himself back up, he lays there. His laughter dwindles into baby chuckles. Daichi has sat on the ground in front of him, head against the cabinet. His laughter was diminished as well, but he was still smiling so wide his eyes were closed.  

I’m falling a lot today, Suga thinks, wiping a few tears away. But when he sneaks a look at the bright grin in front of him, he muses that if this is falling, then he must be belly-flopping into the ocean for Daichi.

Preference 1- Asthma Attack 5SOS (Requested)

For the anonymous person who requested this, here it is xx

I (thankfully) do not have asthma, and have never experienced an asthma attack. This was requested so I’m trying it, but I’m incredibly sorry if this isn’t anything like what a real asthma attack is, everything I know is from internet research xx

Ashton: You and Ashton both liked to work out together occasionally, and today the two of you had decided to go running. Ashton was aware you had asthma, and worried about it whenever the two of you worked out.
“Are you bringing your inhaler babe?” He asks, tying the laces on his running shoe.
“I think I’ll be fine without it.” You say, pulling your hair up and out of your face and into a ponytail.
“Will you bring it please, just in case?” He asks, looking at you seriously.
“If it makes you feel better.” You sigh, grabbing it from your dresser. Ashton offered to put it in his shorts pocket, and you let him, knowing it made him feel better. Sometimes you thought he worried more about it than you did.
“Ready?” He asks
“Yep.” He slips his hand into yours and you leave, and the two of you set off running. You don’t talk much when you run normally, so the only noise was shoes hitting pavement. You were running through a quiet park when you began to have trouble breathing. You slowed down, and Ashton looked over.
“You alright?” He looked concerned, and the two of you slowed to a walk. He put a hand on your back and led you to a bench. “Sit down.” He murmured. “Do you need your inhaler?” You nodded and he reached into his pocket. “I-I, where is it?” He pulled his phone and keys out of his pocket, and it wasn’t there.
“O-other one.” You say, and he immediately reaches into his other pocket, his face relaxing when he pulls out the device. He shakes it and hands it to you, and you inhale the medicine. Ashton sits next to you and rubs your leg gently as your breathing returns to normal, and finally, once he’s sure you’re alright, he hugs you and kisses you softly.
“Let’s walk home, yeah?” He says, and you agree, slipping your hand into his.

Michael: You had a pretty bad cold, and as a result your asthma had been acting up. Michael had just gotten home from a week long press tour, and so when you woke up at 3 am coughing like crazy, he didn’t know what was going on.
“What’s going on? Do you need water? Are you ok?” You shook your head and pointed to the dresser drawer where you kept your inhaler. He jumped out of bed and opened the drawer next to it. “What? What do I get? There’s only clothes in here!” You shook your head and tried pointing again, and this time he opened the right drawer. It finally clicked when he saw the inhaler lying in the drawer, and he grabs it and hands it to you, not really knowing what to do. You make a weak attempt at shaking it, and when Michael understands he takes it and does it for you, handing it back. You took it and breathed in, and you stop coughing as you take another dose of the medicine. Once you finally start breathing right again, you look up at Michael, who had tears in his eyes. “I-I didn’t know what was going on, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.” He mumbled, pulling you into a hug. “I-I was scared, you could have, you could have died.” He whispers into your hair.
“It’s alright, it’s not your fault.” You assure him. “I should have kept the inhaler closer, I knew the attacks would come more frequently since I was sick. I’m sorry for scaring you. But I’m ok now, don’t worry.”
“But what if you have another one?”
“Then we’ll both know what to do and it will be ok.” You say, assuring yourself as well as Michael. He finally nods and pulls away from you, kissing your nose.
“Let’s keep the inhaler right here, just in case alright?” He says, taking it and setting it on the nightstand. You agree and both lay back down, Michael pulling you close. “I’m glad you’re ok.” He mumbles softly.

Calum: Calum’s family was having a big barbecue sort of thing, and Calum had invited you along. You were excited, but also a bit nervous, for you would be meeting members of Calum’s family that you never had met before. You didn’t give a thought to the fact that you might have an asthma attack, and so you were just casually talking to Calum’s mother when you start to cough uncontrollably. You reach into your pocket and the inhaler isn’t there, which makes you panic somewhat. Everyone starts asking questions, which doesn’t help.
“Are you ok?”
“Here, have some water?”
“Did you just choke on something?”
“What’s going on?” Calum, who knew you had asthma, ran across the lawn and over to you.
“Where’s your inhaler?” He asks seriously.
“I-I i-in m-m-my purse.” You choke out. He nods and runs inside, coming back out moments later with the bag. He rummages around in it.
“I’m working on finding it, don’t panic, it’s going to be ok. Sit down darling, don’t worry.” He murmurs. You sink to the ground, sitting there and trying to breathe. All of his family members were gathered in a circle as Calum tried to find the inhaler in your purse. Eventually he gives up and turns the bag upside down on the table, and that’s when he sees the inhaler and grabs it. He crouches down to where you’re sitting and shakes the inhaler before handing it to you, watching as you brought it to your lips once, then twice. Tears filled your eyes, you didn’t like having asthma attacks ever, but random ones scared you even more. Calum brushed the tears away with his thumbs and pressed a kiss to your lips, hugging you tightly. “It’s ok, you’re ok. You’re ok.” He repeats. “Shh, you’re ok now.” Once you’ve recovered he helps you stand up and a few of his family members hug you and apologize, and Calum goes to the table and starts putting everything back in your bag.
“It might have been the smoke from the grill, why don’t you go inside away from it for a bit?” Calum’s mum suggests. Calum agrees and leads you inside, and you breathe in the clean, cool air gratefully.
“Let’s just agree that you should probably clean out your purse.” Calum says, smiling. You giggle softly.
“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”

Luke: You had exams coming up, and you were under an incredible amount of pressure from your parents to do well. Luke was trying to help, but him reminding you constantly you would have an attack if you got too stressed wasn’t really making anything better. This evening you were at his house studying, and you had a nagging feeling something was going to go wrong. You pushed he thought away and continued to read physics notes, trying to focus on the formulas on the paper.
“Hey babe, why don’t you take a break?” Luke says softly.
“No, no I can’t. I have to get this done and then I have to study history notes and then write a draft of a final paper for English and then I just, I-” you listed off everything you had to do, and as you thought about it you began to have trouble breathing. “L-Luke.” You coughed.
“Oh no, ok. I told you this would happen.” He mumbled, running to your bag and looking through it. “It’s not here, where is it?”
“D-didn’t b-bring it.”
“Oh for goodness sake, ok. Alright. Just, just calm down. I’ll figure it out.” He sounded mad, which made you more upset. He paced for a couple seconds before sprinting upstairs. He came down a minute later holding your spare inhaler. He shook it and handed it to you, sitting down as you took the medicine. “I’d forgotten you left a spare here.” He says when you set the inhaler down. “I’m sorry it took me a minute to remember.”
“It’s ok.” Luke smiles sadly at you and presses his lips to your forehead. “Are you mad at me?” You question softly.
“No, what makes you think that?”
“Just, when I started not being able to breathe you seemed upset at me.”
“No, no not at all honey. I just, I get scared when you have attacks, and when I get scared like that I guess I sound angry. I’m not mad at you, I know it’s not your fault.”
“Thanks.” You murmur.
“Anytime sweetheart. Just, maybe start bringing your inhaler with you everywhere, if we had decided to go to the library or something instead of staying here then you could have had to go to the hospital or something.” You nod and he pulls you into a big hug. “Now you’re going to take a break and watch a film with me.”
“Ok fine.” You agreed, cuddling close to him to watch whatever film he chooses.

**Hope that was ok! Feel free to request whatever you want, I’ll try and write whatever you ask me to xx