#berry the ghost

[queenbeebumblebee]

I forgot to do something *JUMPSCARES YOU*

i Made this months ago and forgot to put it here probably, but hey, better late than never!

[butteryplanet]

kitchen ghosts

[fullcravings]

Booberry Hand Pies

[agentc0rn]

Love it when there's cool™ folks with extensive historical knowledge of lore and ancient lineages who have gone through losses and sought questionable ways of achieving their goals + having indirect connection to their respective beings of worship

[loadedberetta]

my brain cannot function until I write this out

Ghost has a one-night stand with Reader and she gets knocked up

TL;DR she can't find Ghost, all she knows about him that his name is Simon and he's a soldier since they knew each other for about an hour before hooking up.

Ghost leaves for a mission, isn't home for almost a year. in that time, she somehow, somehow finds a lead on him. (Christ maybe she meets Gaz's wife in maternal care while she's pregnant I'm unwell)

then she's introduced to Price and eventually brings the kid in a carrier when Simon arrives from a mission.

he's not mad she got pregnant, he's not mad she's asking him for child support, he's mad at himself because he didn't tell her his last name so the baby couldn't have his last name.

(he asks her out on the spot, nobody can convince me otherwise)

[erensonly]

You know how ghost always has his mask on, what would be reader reaction seeing ghosts face for the first time but in a way she doesn't know its him and she goes like "who the fuck is that??? 🤨🤨🤨🤨"

🍒anon

butcher shop buddies (simon riley x reader)

i dont know why i laughed so hard at this. thanks for the ask!! oh can i call you cherry-berry anon?

warnings: fluff, ooc ghost, not proofread sorry, use of 'pretty' and 'cute', no use of pronouns but i may use them in future parts, dad joke, probably incorrect butcher information, i was hungry writing this.

please feel free to message me and let me know if i missed any warnings

----

maybe reader is a civvie and she frequents this one particular butcher shop so you can get meat packages for cheap. this is the first time you see ghost. he's standing in front of the case of meats trying to determine which cut of steak he wanted, while you were there seeing if the people on tiktok were serious about meat packages being cheap. groceries are getting too expensive and you wanted to try your hand at birria tacos.

while taking a look around, you didn't notice the larger man inching closer to you. "d'ya know which cut you're looking for?" naturally, you flinch an take a step back. what is this mammoth of a man doing bending down to your level to help you look for meat? but his accent is silly but pleasing to listen to, so you give him a vague answer. "kinda," you say with a shrug.

"i heard they do these packages of meats that can last me a while. and i've been craving birria tacos, so i need beef for that as well." he silently just leads you to the other side of the case and starts talking to the man standing there. it's like they've known each other for a while. you tune them out to make sure you have everything else checked off of your mental grocery list. when you tune back in, the butcher is slicing some meats up and the man was still standing there.

"thank you so much for your help." this was directed at both men, but only the butcher responded with a "you're welcome" while the other man just nodded at you, before taking his purchase and leaving the store. what a strange man.

this is how you guys started to see each other at least once a month at the same butcher shop/supermarket. he had introduced himself to you as ghost before telling you that you could call him simon. he was actually a kinda funny guy. easy to misunderstand his jokes if you dwell on it too long, but also easy to laugh at if you share the same sense of dry humor. he didn't have much to say at first, cracking jokes at the wrong times, but other than that, there was nothing else for him to say.

i feel like ghost doesn't stop yapping around people that he's comfortable with. like he talks about everything and nothing at the same time. this is how you came to find out that he was in the military, he has family but they're the men from his task force, he travels for work often, and knows every dad joke to ever exist. he's a simple man.

he thrives on routine and familiarity. he makes it a habit to meet you once or twice a month at the shops, go grab a coffee -tea for him- and have a good conversation before going about his day. you ask for his number so you can communicate with him outside of your mini meet-ups and he agrees. now you send whatever meme made you laugh that day and a picture of what you were doing, and he sends you a joke of the day and picture of what he was doing.

he liked getting your cute selfies showing your outfit of the day, or the puzzle you finally completed after losing a piece a month ago, or his personal favorite pictures of you cuddled up with your cat pawl.

i feel like simon is a dog person outwardly, but he didn't realize how much he actually liked cats because he never had one growing up. so seeing you all cozy and pretty with your cat trying to escape your kiss, simon felt like he finally had something to look forward to. now he wanted you to see him for him.

when you walk into the shop, you're expecting simon to be waiting at the counter like he always did, chatting it up with his butcher friend. but instead, you see a blonde man with a black medical mask on talking to the butcher. maybe he's just late.

you walk to your normal spot to wait when the man turns to you and speaks. "how ya doin' today, love?" it startled you. who is this man and why is his voice familiar and why is he so attractive. "who the hell are you?" you couldn't help the confusion on your face; why is he talking to you. he just laughs and laughs, obviously finding your confusion hilarious.

"what did baby corn say to mama corn?" you were more confused. who's baby and mama corn? "go on," you encourage.

"where's pop corn?" this set you off. laughing louder than you probably should. "simon, how are you, darling?" you both had endearing names for each other even though you were just friends. it just came naturally.

"hungry. wanna stop at this one diner i know? they have amazing burgers."

that's how you find yourself eating a cheeseburger with simon who has taken his mask off by now. he was a very attractive man, not that you doubted it before. sharp square shaped jawline, crooked nose from being broken too many times, beautiful honey brown eyes contrasted by his long blonde lashes. he had a mole on the side of his nose, and scars on his face but they only added to his ruggedness; his attractiveness.. it didn't help that he was 6"4 with big strong arms, nice sized pecs, and on the rare occasion he would send you a mirror selfie without a hoodie on, you could see through his shirt that he had a nice soft belly. (my personal favorite build)

you were glad he was comfortable enough with you to be willingly vulnerable with you. maybe this relationship could escalate so much more.

----

should i make more parts to this? i already have a few ideas.

[fake-daily-watcher-tweets]

this is so shane madej 2016 core and no i will not be elaborating, thank you.

[gomzdrawfr]

As a special thanks this month I drew Ghostie baking lemon blueberry loaf for my supporters :3

kofi membership link -> here

Reblogs are appreciated!!

[bizarresexyzoom]

Monster Cereal Characters 🍫🍓🫐🍒🍏

[danwhobrowses]

You know, as much as I would've loved a massive catharsis-led triumph over Athion Zathuda in battle, possibly left at the mercy of the vibrant flames of Fearne's Titan form reiterating herself with aplomb as Fearne Calloway, I actually kinda love how the narrative chose to defeat him. In many ways it is just hilarious, but also ironically in-character. Man talked all about wanting to prove himself, had a grandiose title of 'Sorrowlord' and was looking to be both a physical and mental adversary after threatening to torment Fearne into becoming Exaltant by targeting her loved ones. But then when he is pit against Bells Hells he barely does a thing; he tries to talk his way into turning Fearne again, gets jumpscared by Ira, the 'farm girl' he mocked to Fearne commandeers his dragon, he loses a leg and is thrown off his dragon, and the Hells even opt to keep him alive for some reason in 107 before kinda accidentally offing him in 108.

He thought he was the shit, but enemies of true threat like Ludinus, Otohan and Liliana (a threat before she was turned) looked down on him, and thus his attempts to prove them wrong - while also falling into the same trap as Ashton's father in seeking out a personal destiny and being willing to see their child as a tool to do it - bore no fruit at all, he was practically an afterthought through and through, his dragon really being his entire threat level. In the end, he got killed running (well, hobbling) away, and while Gloamglut's keening was a little sad in a way that a pet cannot fathom the moral complexity of having to kill their owner he still had it coming, plus following his eternal torture in the Tiki Bar of Ligament Manor, the last sorrow he wrought was his own; he achieved nothing, everything he hints he did to get to his position was for naught, and for all the fear and danger he tried to make himself possess he truly had no power over anyone, especially not Fearne - who can only pity him and, as further proof of being better than he ever was, hope that he takes the time to reflect on his sorrows.

[queenbeebumblebee]

i was bored so here, Berry's gem

no worries i'm still working on the fics, okay?

[butteryplanet]

kitchen ghosts

[aquarius-cookie-jar]

Something about that sword seems... off...

[thehauntedrocket]

Cereal Monsters

Art by Kyle Hotz

[angellake]

thinking of unicorn!reader meeting knight!ghost for the first time and im getting dizzy and and and and

( MDNI - stalking, description of corpses, ghost is a creep ❤️, non-con drugging, implied kidnapping, implied ghost/gaz/soap )

you're walking through the trees, fresh snow and frozen foliage crunching under hoof. icicles hanging from tree branches and scattering sunbeams below. its quiet and you're alone. peaceful.

you think, at least. not knowing what stalks you through the forest. a giant of a man on a mission. somehow silent despite the heavy armor he wears as he follow close behind you.

disregarding the perilous terrain, this is the easiest quest price has ever sent ghost on. you're far different than he'd expected. your body similar to that of a satyr, upper half dusted in fur yet human-like and nude. lower half covered in the same silky fur and legs ending in well cared for hooves. a long, curly tail swaying in the slight breeze. sparkling horn of bone sprouting from your forehead and a pair of fuzzy ears further back. he understands price's impulse to have you. a pretty thing to look at and keep.

it helps that you're seemingly oblivious to his presence, careless and at ease in your surroundings. he imagines it's due to years of isolation and your natural disposition. unicorns are said to be creatures of innocence.

it seems to be true, he thinks, watching you leisurely stop in front of a bush heavy with berries despite the season.

he stops short, only a couple of steps behind you. exhaling heavy as he watches you bend over, exposing the soft space between your thighs only briefly before your tail settles. soft hands plucking the red fruit from the branches. juices staining your fingers like blood.

watching you lick your fingertips clean does nothing to cool the fire in his blood. price's orders, the only thing stopping him from pinning your soft form to the frigid forest floor, ring heavy in his head. the words keeping him pinned in place. he flexes his hands, the chilly metal of his armor grounding.

it's only then, when you turn, that you notice him for the first time. eyes going wide and a small sound of surprise escaping you, turning into mist in the air. your ears flick backwards, pressed against your head.

it startles you, the creature wearing metal behind you. you've never seen one standing and free of nature's grasp. you only know of them to house the corpses of something. unfamiliar with the creatures feeding the trees with their rotting bodies. shiny metal wrapped in ivy and crawling with insects. smelling of rotting meat.

it strikes you that growing up isolated might have its downsides.

all you can do is stand there, nervously eyeing the behemoth before you. figure blocking the sun and casting a shadow. for once, you struggle figuring out if something means you harm. so used to dealing with animals, things forthcoming in their violence.

but it just stands there, silent and imposing. looking back at you. harmless, you conclude. not knowing better as you take a curious step towards it, quickly closing the distance. your tail dragging in the snow behind you.

( much to ghost's surprise. he thought you'd have enough sense to be at least wary. )

it's much taller than you expected, whatever it is. you have to crane your head back to look up into it's face. it smells like wet soil, something freshly buried. you wonder if it's pretty under the thing on its head. the last few corpses you'd come across in the same attire had bloated, rubbery skin and bulging eyes. some had been skeletal. you grimace at the memories.

you really hope it's pretty under there.

ghost, for once, is confused. watching you stand on the tips of your hooves, steadying yourself by placing your hands on his breastplate. your nose twitching as you peer up into the darkness of his helmet hiding his eyes.

he doesn't stop you when you reach for his helmet, forcing his head to tilt to the side. you're gentle. gentler than soap had been the first time ghost allowed him to lift the visor of his armet. but your hands roam him all the same. quickly busying yourself with feeling the joints of his armor and running your nails over the engraved textures.

ghost finally moves when you begin pulling at the leather straps of his satchel, catching your wrists in one hand. his sudden movement scares you.

the thing moves when you begin pulling at the leather pouch at its hip, grabbing both of your wrists in its massive hand. panic flares to life in your chest, forcing a neigh-like sound out of you as you struggle for a moment. calming down when you realize all it's done is stop you from touching its belongings.

you scowl at it. stingy.

it must sense your irritation with it because it makes a sound like it's amused with you. it only sours your mood and makes you stomp your hooves. at least, until you notice its free hand moving, opening the pouch you'd just been messing with.

your curiosity overpowers your aggravation as you watch it pull a clear bottle out. the liquid inside shiny and light yellow like the winter sun. you don't expect the bottle to be pushed into your hands and uncorked. it smells sweet and warm, like waking up from a nap in the sun. fur warmed and belly full of food.

without hesitation, trusting, you take a sip. it makes your tongue tingle and warms your throat. slightly thicker than water. you can't help but drink more of it, you've never had something so sweet before. besides the fermented fruit you found in a broken wagon one summer.

you make it halfway through the bottle before you start to feel odd. limbs suddenly heavy and unsteady. wobbling in place as you struggle to keep your eyes open. you don't even grasp what's happening as everything fades to black and you go limp.

it's easy to bundle you up and toss you over his shoulder after you drink the potion ghost's boys worked so hard on. he's proud of them and can't wait to show them the pretty thing they helped bring home.

[loadedberetta]

Berry baby🖤

I hope you're doing well and *remembering* to hydrate.

I was just talking with a friend and i find i slip into other languages expressions while I'm speaking or even typing - I'm a polyglot (I know a good few languages) including South African Sign Language. It certainly takes alot of people by surprise since it's not something I go around speaking about.

How would TF141 + Alex Kelle react with this given they never were explicitly told about this skillet before hand?

I hope you enjoy your festive season and find yourself surrounded by the most peace and happiness Love🥀

hi lovie!! (sipping on magnesium water as we speak!)

having dipped my toes in language learning too, I bow to you, polyglot friend~ holidays are hard, thank you for the encouragement, same goes to you! decided to turn them into drabbles, it was much fun, thank you for the req! alright, here is (my first req stuff ever)

141 + Alex react to: polyglot Reader

rating: M (language, light flirting?)

warnings: smoking, interrogation [military inaccuracies]

[series with random headcanons about specific situations (involving the reader) and how CoD characters would react to them; mostly the 141, but Alejandro and Rudy, Laswell, Farah, König, and others will make appearances too]

other parts: [tattoo] [pregnancy] [knife tricks] [drawing] [foreign language]

find me on ao3 // masterlist

Price

A small note was attached to your file that Price seems to have overlooked in the year and a half since you were under his command; in Laswell's handwriting, which John knew already from the countless similar notes she left for him throughout the years. Yet, this one stood out; sign language? And how many languages again? He made a mental note to ask you over grub the next day.

Breakfast was always fast; after first drill, but before the day really began. And always with your mates, switching languages with ease to accommodate new members and brothers passing through, just on transfer at the base.

Price always ate at a separate table, always. Sometimes alone, sometimes with some higher-ups. But this morning, he sat by your table, which opened up a seat for him. Everyone's body language shifted to accommodate him among you. He didn't speak, and the conversation between you and a temporary transfer settled back into a comfortable flow. His ears perked up to each sound he didn't seem to have heard from you, as they weren't part of the English phonemic system.

He himself muddled in French and some Arabic and harboured a basic understanding of Spanish since his time in Mexico, but your confidence and knowledge shone through the effortless speech. You and your speaking partner seemed to share a lighthearted conversation in a language he could only guess.

Soon, you let yourself notice his glances in your direction, often settling on your lips for short moments. Smiling to yourself, you finished your coffee as your deskmate excused themselves from the table, having emptied their tray.

Instead of turning to another group being taught foreign swearwords by a new recruit (to which you had to resist the urge to share your favourites), you lifted your gaze to meet Price's.

"Enjoying yourself, Captain?"

He chuckled, raspy.

"How did this never come up?" He asked without much sugarcoating.

"What exactly?" You chuckled.

"That you know about a dozen languages, including… South African Sign Language?"

A small smirk formed on your lips, proud of the recognition and attention to detail.

"I don't go around flaunting it." You stated plainly. "It's not even on my file, it's… just something I do, as a person; it's not for the military or anything."

"Hm." That was all he replied to that. "-but…"

"Yes?"

"Could be useful."

You could see he was pondering something.

"What if I told you I have a spot for you on officer training, hm? They're looking for… intelligence."

Ghost

( I cannot resist using this gif--)

Finding yourself behind a counter, taking orders from businessmen, assistants, and university students; not exactly how you imagined life in the big city. It was a second job of sorts, only part-time, as you couldn't squeeze in anything else besides the academy.

It was a busy morning, your shift covering the entirety of it before classes began that day. The line was only growing, and the other shiftie beside you was struggling; some foreigners complained about their order, and another pair of customers speaking a third language just rolled up to him, totally overwhelming him. Calling out a name for an order, you waved to the next in line (a sweet old immigrant lady, with whom only you could chat out of the whole team, easily overstepping the language barrier), and told her to just hang on for a moment.

You addressed the complaining couple in a well-mannered way, quickly sorted out their issue with a complimentary muffin and a cookie, and switched languages with ease, freeing your shiftie partner from the agony that was speaking any other language than English for him.

The rush died down just the slightest after a few more hectic minutes, and the shiftie went for a break when you noticed a familiar figure standing by the counter as you turned back with another order.

He gave your unit a few lessons this semester and remarked on your capabilities in strategy and urban warfare. You remembered him, and it seemed like he did too.

The usual balaclava he wore when instructing was replaced by just a black cloth mask hooked behind his ears, revealing a few more details about his face than you'd seen before.

"Sir." You addressed him, conveying you respected the civil setting, yet communicating your respect toward him considering your short but memorable history. "What can I get you?"

"Didn't know you were fluent in that many languages." He remarked after describing his simple order, making your cheeks heat up at a moment's notice.

"It's nothing, really…" You tried brushing his words off with words that came out shakier than you meant to sound.

"How many do you speak?" He asked with a small tilt of his head.

His eyes widened for a moment at your answer. "…and South African Sign Language."

A chuckle, something you'd never heard from before stuck in your ear for a good few seconds, drowned out by the milk frother.

"I don't do lesson plans, you know?"

"What?" You lightly shivered with excitement at the fact how interested he seemed in your knowledge.

"Would you mind, you know… Doing a lesson? Sign language is a valuable asset. I can give you some time next Friday."

"I…" You stuttered a bit at his proposition.

"Nothin' fancy, don't worry, darling. Just some basics."

"Alright…" You found yourself saying after a moment when the light ringing in your ears faded.

"Maybe even tell your story… I'd be interested for sure."

And with that, he grabbed his coffee from your hand, putting some coin on the counter with the other, and was out the door before you could say anything else.

Alex

He didn't talk. Not to ULF soldiers, and bravely (maybe stupidly) not even to Alex. Farah's request for you to get to the scene was… interesting. She stated her presence was required in another part of the country, and in her encrypted message, she explicitly voiced how your assistance might help ULF break the man.

So you came. Alex greeted you on the airstrip with a smile and a hug, his frame towering over yours.

"Alex, a pleasure to see you." You smirked as the two of you walked back to the nearest building.

"Can only say the same." His tone was warm and welcoming, a staple to him. "You hoping to crack our guy?" He asked you directly about the matter at hand. The small carrier that brought you here whirred into the air in the distance.

"Exactly."

"And how's that gonna go? We haven't even gotten a word out of him, let alone information."

"That's why I'm here now."

"The stage is yours." He opened the door of the large building to you and ushered you inside.

A few hours later, he stood by your side, as you tried to find a crack on the prisoner's tough shell. After many unsuccessful attempts, the tired captive let his head fall, a small curse leaving his lips. Your ears perked, and Alex could only watch the scene unfold in front of him.

In a language he only heard on the TV before maybe once, you asked the prisoner something, to which he immediately lifted his head in confusion. Pressing on, you visibly exerted yourself to gather as much as you could on the man before he would shut down again.

After a few exerting rounds of questions, you stood up abruptly, and nodded for Alex to come with you. Closing the door to the room, you turned to him, but he spoke up faster than you did.

"What is and where." He crossed his arms and awaited your answer with a bite to his lip.

"I don't know yet, but he talked about a car rigged with charges, but he's going to shut down soon, fuck…" You clicked your tongue, exhausted from the rusty pieces of knowledge forced to work in your brain at high speed.

"Hold on… He had a detonator on him when we apprehended him… Are you sure it's a car?" He backed away, looking as if he was about to bolt somewhere.

"White, small, local model." You shouted after him as he disappeared down the corridor.

You stepped back into the room and closed the door behind yourself.

A day later, you were there as Alex switched the trigger, and the car about a mile away from your position, deep in the desert blew to pieces as the two of you watched.

"How the hell did you know from a damn single word?"

"It's a local dialect, where I happened to have stayed for a while, it's not important…" You dismissed the seemingly unimportant detail with a wave of your hand.

"So we just happened to luck out on this one?" He chuckled and turned to you.

"Well, I could have tried about half a dozen more languages, but hey, if this one worked…?" You looked up at him, a small smile tugging the corner of your lips up.

"And Farah knew this?"

"Her hunches are never wrong." You shrugged.

"Yeah… You're right about that."

Gaz

You and Kyle bonded during selection. Both of you were younger than most of the cadets, and yet, somehow competed for top scores. It wasn't even a test of endurance, it was a test of who could beat the other. DS were amused by how easily you passed hurdles, just to be better than the other one, paying no attention to other competition.

And after that, the two of you became inseparable. Like people who'd known the other since childhood or had been good neighbours for years. Phone calls when oceans separated the two of you were very common, and sometimes you found eachother in inopportune situations; yet these calls only strengthened your friendship. Keeping each other company, and slowly growing to know more and more about the other.

It was a spur-of-the-moment trip, catching the first plane when you finally got your leave. A country you've only seen in books so far, but a language you'd already mastered.

Kyle called you when you were out on the first morning, trying to fetch food from a market.

"Good morning, Kyle." Your chin was visible in the frame of the phone, and the blue sky above you.

"Morning yourself, except it's the middle of the afternoon. Where are you?" He asked in a surprised tone, his face coming closer to the phone, trying to discern some landmarks around you, to no avail.

"In a market. Got on a plane yesterday, and--" You quipped, looking down at Kyle, who was visibly confused about your whereabouts.

"Jesus wept, bug, you're insane…" He shook his head, almost missing as you started haggling, faint voices breaking through the line.

He quieted down and leaned forward on his couch to listen. For a good minute, he couldn't understand a word you were saying, only listening to your voice flow, lips dancing in unique patterns. Soon, you held your quarry up to the camera, something bundled in white wax paper.

You sat down and finally positioned your phone to show your face and upper body, and a bit of the busy scenery behind you.

"You're a wizard, you know that?" He laughed and lounged back again.

"A party trick if you will. I know a few more." You shrugged, and bit into your breakfast.

"Few more?" Kyle repeated, chuckling in disbelief. "What else, like, sign language?"

"Actually…" You laughed, somewhere in the background a bell tolled distantly.

"No fucking way." Kyle licked his upper lip and looked away. "I thought I knew ya."

"There's always more to know, friend."

Soap

Sharing a room with Soap was… an experience. He was a sound sleeper, not causing much fuss at night, so you were content in that regard. The other departments, however, not much.

He was unruly, to say the least, and it took some time to get accustomed to his schedule. One of you being a morning shower type in opposition to the other being a night shower person caused some friction in the beginning, but like everything else, it settled after a while. After all, this was supposed to last only the three months the unit was stationed at this base.

You hadn't known eachother that well before, but that changed at around the one-month mark.

Having been given a few hours of phone time by Price days before for this afternoon, you set up to call your best friend, a few thousand miles setting the two of you apart. You haven't talked in way too long, and before you knew it, you'd already spent an hour talking and laughing over Facetime, phone propped against the metal grate by the foot of the bottom bunk, you sitting on the mattress.

You acknowledged Soap coming in a few times for his notebook, cigs, or to grab his coat from the back of the chair, but didn't pay it much attention, being so absorbed in the conversation with your favourite human on the other end of the line, confined to the little screen by the foot of your bed.

It was already dark outside, when Soap burst into the room, and put his finger to his lips, signalling you to be silent.

Looking down at your best friend "I need to be silent. Wait a bit."

To which they replied with an "Okay, I'll wait."

Soap flicked the light off, and a few moments later, a few people passed the room; you could hear the footsteps.

"Random inspection." He whispered as he climbed up into his bunk, trying to remain silent.

Praying your room wouldn't be chosen, as you were still in uniform instead of nightwear, you settled on your mattress too. An idea flashed through your head, and turning the brightness on your screen to high, you continued your conversation over Facetime in silence, your best friend quickly catching on to what happened, as you explained the situation in sign by the dim light.

A few minutes later, Soap climbed down from the bunk and switched the light on.

"Gaz texted, they moved on to the next building… what are ya up tae?"

He looked back at you, as you caught his glance too while signing.

"Sign. South African Sign Language. I'm talking to someone."

"Right…" He chuckled bemused, and headed out again, probably for a cig with some other delinquents, to which you shook your head with a smirk on your lips.

Later that night, when you settled to sleep for real on your back, his overgrown mohawk poked out followed by his head from above you, overlooking you on your bed.

"'eard you speakin' earlier… And that sign language too… So… Mind teachin' me some?"

(alright that's all, hope you liked it, goodnight)