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#it's the fact that i understand that (spoken english)
haunted-mouse-house · 12 hours
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In the EC, Nora said that Andrew and Neil learned a new language together after TKM. In TSC Jean mentions Neil and Andrew speaking some language he doesn’t understand. Given that Jean speaks English, French, and mystery 3rd language (presumably japanese), i feel like he would have mentioned if the language sounded similar to a romance language or an east asian tonal language.
My theory is that they learned either: A) Arabic (or one of its many dialects), or B) An African language (perhaps Swahili, since it’s the most spoken and would likely have the most resources available, though please feel free to fact check me on this if i’m wrong)
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bmpmp3 · 2 months
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i do think its kinda funny when i see someone in the year of our lord 2024 talk about vocal synth music like its all gone downhill since like 2010 because like dont get me wrong i love a good niconicodouga-ass 2008 ass vocaloid joint BUT also like. the past couple years have had the most fascinatingly creative and expressive uses of vocal synthesizers ive ever heard in my life DJFSKHJDFS dont write it all off just yet!!
#usually i only see that from people who havent actually listened to any vsynth music from the past 15 years so i understand why they got to#that conclusion. and also usually theyre people who didnt listen to much vsynth music in the first place LOL they just dont know#but it is still a little funny. brother there are things beyond your wildest dreams if u just look#like some personal highlights: the stuff by rinri - particularly their use of the meika girlies#dont carry our memories away is LIFECHANGING the whispers. the spoken parts. the BELTS#plus the haunting and unrelenting instrumentation. fantastic song#and naisho no pierced's propose + birthday + gift sort of trilogy of songs. gift especially has been unreal#again the dynamics of soft intimate whispers to belts but also those fuller high notes with edges of growlyness.#plus the songs just generally rock. and those LYRICS. absolutely intense like physically painful and frightening like#yearning and codependency and possession. and the tuning and production just amps it up more#OH and slave.v.v.r has been doing crazy things for even longer but i only started getting into his stuff recently and holy shit#love eater is like. the scariest vocaloid song ive ever heard not because of the lyrics. but because of the tuning#im like. scared. i cant stop listening to it. the heavy synthesized breathy main vocals and whispered harmonies plus the VOCAL FRY#i didnt realized vocaloid5? i think? has a vocal fry option built in i heard? thats crazy#but specifically in love eater the fry and growl is amped up so deep and loud and clear compared to everything else it like#emphasizes the artificiality of the voice while also amping up the expressiveness#its awesome. and on the older slave.v.v.r songs i heard i will hit you 8759632145 times with this piano. also so fucking cool#addicted to that song. 1) its a great jazzy rocky piano tune with this piano flourish at the end of each phrase that sounds fantastic#but also 2) the lyrics are insane. using kanji to write english??????#people are doing wild ass things with vocal synths rn you guys#this isnt even getting into some of the really unique synths themselves too. adachi rei is awesome i love that shes just like#the perfect inbetween of sample based and reconstruction based vocals. shes a sample based synth#but her samples were drawn by hand LOL shes like dectalks granddaughter to me.....#a really good use of adachi rei is iyowa's heat abnormal/heat anomaly/whatever its called ITS AWESOME thats what it is hjrkfdgfd#i think the fact that vocal synths can be so realistic and clean and noiseless out the gate now has made people really stop worrying#about like. realism all together and looking more into expressiveness. omg vocal synth modernist movement
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carnival-core · 1 year
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Oh will say I've gotten through every bit of AA4 except like any of the last case (bc im watching my boyfriend stream it)
I think the fact the only thing I really dislike is entirely me being petty and not like a writing issue is pretty good on the game's part
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femme-malewife · 2 years
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I need to be professionally taught spanish instead of self teaching...
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idkimnotreal · 9 months
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i need to speak english in real life...
i'm brazilian, english has been part of my daily life since i was 14 (before that in school, but out of school only since i was about 14), i consider myself an advanced to fluent speaker (short vocabulary, i don't really know or forget mundane or daily things in english, my vocabulary is mostly related to book english), but i've never once spoken english with anyone in real life or even on a call. i was always afraid i'd blank out. it's a deep rooted thing for me.
so i recently moved and as it happens my neighbor one floor down whose apartment includes an outdoors patio that i can see from my kitchen window (to an inner open space in the middle of the building, i'd only need one word for this in portuguese but i have no idea how to say "light pit" in english*) has an american dad and they speak really loud (i know it's an american thing) and i felt... this sense of joy from hearing them talk english. hearing spoken english for the first time in my life that was not coming from tv speakers or headphones, but actually from real human voices near me (i was a kid at the time of the world cup so i don't really recall people speaking english, i have a vague memory of it, but not vividly). there was a child too, her half sibling, and i don't know, the whole bonding experience they were having using the english language made me happy to experience it.
i guess i need international friends that i can really talk to (not just text). not brazilian friends to talk english to, that's just boring, like i actually want people from different cultures that i can use english as a bridge to connect our life experiences. it's about that. it's what i figure is so exciting about english. it's... the world. english is everything. when i heard english, i heard everyone. for the first time in my life, near me, physically. it means i'm not necessarily tied to brazil. it reminded me of that, maybe. which is why i'm sad now that they're apparently gone. i keep expecting to hear their voices again, speaking english, and whenever i hear neighbors talking loudly in the halls i get hyped. but i think they're gone, back to the states. to the center of the world. and i'm here. too dysfunctional to leave this place.
(i'm not actually looking for language buddies on tumblr, there's a reason why i've never spoken english in real life which is like i mean uhh social anxiety/trauma)
*that's atrium thanks chatgpt
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writingwithcolor · 6 months
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Not all Second-Language Speakers are Made Equal.
@waltzshouldbewriting asked:
Hello! I’m writing a story that features a character who’s first language is not English. He’s East African, specifically from Nairobi, Kenya, and is pretty fluent in English but it’s not his primary language, and he grew up speaking Swahili first. I’m struggling to figure out if it’s appropriate or in character to show him forgetting English words or grammar. From what I’ve researched, English is commonly spoken in Nairobi, but it wouldn’t be what was most spoken in his home. For context, this is an action/superhero type story, so he (and other characters) are often getting tired, stressed, and emotional. He also speaks more than two languages, so it makes sense to me that it would be easier to get confused, especially in a language that wasn’t his first. But I’m worried about ending up into stereotypes or tropes. For additional context: I’m monolingual, I’ve tried to learn a second language and it’s hard. A lot of how I’m approaching this comes from my own challenges correctly speaking my own, first and only language.
Diversity in Second-Language English
You seem to have an underlying assumption that second language acquisition happens the same for everyone. 
The way your character speaks English depends on so many unknown factors: 
Where does your story take place? You mention other characters; are they also Kenyan, or are they all from different countries?
Assuming the setting is not Kenya, is English the dominant language of your setting? 
How long has your character lived in Kenya vs. where he is now? 
What are his parents’ occupations? 
What level of schooling did he reach in Nairobi before emigrating? 
What type of school(s) did he go to, public or private? Private is more likely than you think. 
Did his schooling follow the national curriculum structure or a British one? Depends on school type and time period. 
Does he have familiarity with Kenyan English, or only the British English taught in school? 
Is this a contemporary setting with internet and social media?
I bring up this list not with the expectation that you should have had all of this in your ask, but to show you that second language acquisition of English, postcolonial global English acquisition in particular, is complex. 
My wording is also intentional: the way your character speaks English. To me, exploring how his background affects what his English specifically looks like is far more culturally interesting to me than deciding whether it makes him Good or Bad at the language. 
L2 Acquisition and Fluency
But let’s talk about fluency anyway: how expressive the individual is in this language, and adherence to fundamental structural rules of the language.
Fun fact: Japanese is my first language. The language I’m more fluent in today? English. Don’t assume that an ESL individual will be less fluent in English compared to their L1 counterparts on the basis that 1) it’s their second language, or 2) they don’t speak English at home. 
There’s even a word for this—circumstantial bilingualism, where a second language is acquired by necessity due to an individual’s environment. The mechanisms of learning and outcomes are completely different. 
You said you tried learning a second language and it was hard. You cannot compare circumstantial bilingualism to a monolingual speaker’s attempts to electively learn a second language. 
Motivations?
I understand that your motivation for giving this character difficulties with English is your own personal experience. However, there are completely different social factors at play.
The judgments made towards a native speaker forgetting words or using grammar differently are rooted in ableism and classism (that the speaker must be poor, uneducated, or unintelligent). That alone is a hefty subject to cover. And I trust you to be able to cover that!
But on top of that, for a second language speaker, it’s racism and xenophobia, which often lend themselves to their own ableist or classist assumptions (that those of the speaker’s race/ethnicity must be collectively unintelligent, that they are uneducated or low class due to the occupations where they could find work, or conversely that they are snobby and isolationist and can't be bothered to learn a new language). Intersections, intersections.
If you want to explore your experiences in your writing, give a monolingual English speaker in your cast a learning disability or some other difficulty learning language, whatever you most relate with. And sure, multilingual folks can occasionally forget words like anyone else does, or think of a word in one language and take a second to come up with it in the other language. But do not assume that multilinguals, immigrants, or multiethnic individuals inherently struggle with English or with multiple languages just because you do.
~ Rina
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bomberqueen17 · 1 year
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tone indicators
I reblogged this post without adding any commentary bc queue and not a lot of computer time lately but like okay here's the thing about tone indicators:
they're yet another in-group set of coded speech. like an inside joke, or a meme, or a conlang. if you are in a group that uses them, they're great and perfectly comprehensible.
but if you don't happen to have come from inside a group that uses them, they are exactly as exclusionary as any other heavy jargon or inside joke or acronym. I mean have you ever listened to soldiers talk? The US Army communicates in heavily jargon-ified speech, liberally laden with acronyms, so much so that it's a self-referential joke to make up obscene or deliberately-obfuscated ones to slip into official reports since the sorts of people who'd kick up a fuss about obscene language won't understand them.
It is exactly the same thing. Except that's exclusionary on purpose, and tone indicators are exclusionary in effect but tout themselves as inclusionary.
So if I, an outsider to this, am reading along, and after a sentence, there's a / and then between one and three letters, that is not enough information for me to use to look it up.
This is absolutely inaccessible if you are not alreadhy in the group that uses it.
I wouldn't mind if the people who used them were just like 'oh ha sorry jargon, i'll try to explain if it's not clear, sorry i forget you guys don't know them' just like any other inside joke or meme or whatever.
But I was in a discussion with someone on a Discord and when I was puzzled about them including these weird slash-acronyms after their statements they were like oh how nice for you that you're not neurodivergent and don't need to use these.
Uh no. The opposite actually. I'm the kind of neurodivergent that needs context. I handle being excluded from conversations very poorly. And that's where I get pissed off, that people seem to be holding these up as the new be-all end-all of Finally Solving The Problem Of Ambiguous Tones In Social Interaction. The hell you are, kids. They're just another layer, and I'd say the worst one yet, out of many many many attempts to solve this exact problem. They are fundamentally inaccessible. Don't mistake the fact that you learned them (somewhere, in some context inaccessible to me) for them actually being universal.
Considered against the many different solutions that have been offered since text-only speech was invented, tone indicators stack up as among the very least-accessible of the lot, since they contain so little context in and of themselves-- if a key is not provided then they're totally inaccessible, and are exceptionally difficult for non-native English speakers, and in general require so much memorization or cross-referencing as to be prohibitively hostile to outsiders.
And that's fine, if what your'e doing is just meant for talking to your friends. But don't come into my conversations and berate me for not having memorized whatever incomprehensible set of acronyms you've newly-decided are the new universal truth. And what drives me the most insane is how many of these acronyms someone has now decided to assign a whole new meaning to are acronyms that are well-known and already existed and are in heavy use. So if you try to look them up guess what you get! is it gonna be the newly-created version or the one that's been in use for fifty to seventy-five years??
For one, P.O.S. has had a specific meaning in written and spoken English for a really damn long time and if you call me a piece of shit in the actual language I speak I am absolutely not going to interpret your conlang as having intended something nice. (YES REALLY THEY'RE USING THAT ONE TRY TO GUESS WHAT IT MEANS. NO. NO! I know. Fuck! That's wild. Absolutely the fuck not.)
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dannyphannypack · 1 year
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Writing ASL: Techniques to Write Signed Dialogue
Hey, guys! I've been reading a lot of DC Batfamily fanfiction lately, and in doing so I realized how little I see of ASL being represented in written text (love you, Cass!). I wanted to briefly talk about tactics to writing American Sign Language (ASL), and ways that these techniques can help improve your writing in more general contexts!
SOME THINGS BEFORE WE GET STARTED
I will be discussing everything in terms of ASL! If you have a character who uses Chinese Sign Language or even British Sign Language, the same rules will not necessarily apply! Don't be afraid to do some extra research on them.
Do not let this dissuade you from writing a character who signs ASL! This is by no means the end-all be-all to writing ASL dialogue, and I do not intend this post to insinuate that by writing ASL the same way you write English you are deeply offending the Deaf community. If this is something you're interested in though, I highly recommend experimenting with the way you write it! Above all, have fun with your writing.
Related to 2nd rule, but still very important: not everyone will agree that sign language should be treated/written any differently than English. This is a totally valid and understandable stance to take! I do not hope to invalidate this stance by making this post, but rather to introduce an interested audience to how ASL operates in the modern world, and how that can be translated into text.
ADDRESSING SOME MISCONCEPTIONS
ASL is the same as English, just with gestures instead of words.
Actually, no! There is a language that exists that is like that: it's called Signing Exact English, and it's an artificial language; i.e., it did not come about naturally. All languages came from a need to communicate with others, and ASL is no different! It is a language all on it's own, and there is no perfect 1:1 way to translate it to English, just as any spoken language.
2. But everyone who signs ASL knows how to read English, don't they?
No, actually! Because it's a completely different language, people who sign ASL and read English can be considered bilingual: they now know two languages. In fact, fingerspelling a word to a Deaf person in search for the correct sign does not usually work, and is far from the preferred method of conversing with Deaf people.
3. Because ASL does not use as many signs as we do words to articulate a point, it must be an inferior language.
Nope! ASL utilizes 5 complex parameters in order to conversate with others: hand shape, palm orientation, movement, location, and expression. English relies on words to get these points across: while we may say "He's very cute," ASL will sign, "He cute!" with repeated hand movement and an exaggerated facial expression to do what the "very" accomplishes in the English version: add emphasis. Using only ASL gloss can seem infantilizing because words are unable to portray what the other four parameters are doing in a signed sentence.
4. Being deaf is just a medical disability. There's nothing more to it.
Fun fact: there is a difference between being deaf and being Deaf. You just said the same thing twice? But I didn't! To be deaf with a lowercase 'd' is to be unable to hear, while being Deaf with an uppercase is to be heavily involved in the Deaf community and culture. Deaf people are often born deaf, or they become deaf at a young age. Because of this, they attend schools for the Deaf, where they are immersed in an entirely different culture from our own. While your family may mourn the loss of your grandfather's hearing, Deaf parents often celebrate discovering that their newborn is also deaf; they get to share and enjoy their unique culture with their loved one, which is a wonderful thing!
YOU MENTIONED ASL GLOSS. WHAT IS THAT?
ASL gloss is the written approximation of ASL, using English words as "labels" for each sign. ASL IS NOT A WRITTEN LANGUAGE, so this is not the correct way to write it (there is no correct way!): rather, it is a tool used most commonly in classrooms to help students remember signs, and to help with sentence structure.
IF THERE'S NO CORRECT WAY TO WRITE IN ASL, THEN HOW DO I DO IT?
A most astute observation! The short answer: it's up to you. There is no right or wrong way to do it. The longer answer? Researching the culture and history, understanding sign structure, and experimenting with description of the 5 parameters are all fun ways you can take your ASL dialogue to the next level. Here are 3 easy ways you can utilize immediately to make dialogue more similar to the way your character is signing:
Sign languages are never as wordy as spoken ones. Here's an example: "Sign languages are never wordy. Spoken? Wordy." Experiment with how much you can get rid of without the meaning of the sentence being lost (and without making ASL sound goo-goo-ga-ga-y; that is to say, infantilizing).
Emotion is your friend. ASL is a very emotive language! If we were to take that sentence and get rid of the unnecessary, we could get something like "ASL emotive!" The way we add emphasis is by increasing the hand motion, opening the mouth, and maybe even moving the eyebrows. It can be rather intuitive: if you mean to say very easy, you would sign EASY in a flippant manner; if you mean to say so handsome, you would sign handsome and open your mouth or fan your face as if you were hot. Think about a game of Charades: how do you move your mouth and eyebrows to "act out" the word? How are you moving your body as your teammates get closer? There are grammar rules you can certainly look up if you would like to be more technical, too, but this is a good place to start!
Practice describing gestures and action. ASL utilizes three dimensional space in a lot of fun and interesting ways. Even without knowing what a specific sign is, describing body language can be a big help in deciphering the "mood" of a sentence. Are they signing fluidly (calm) or sharply (angry)? Are their signs big (excited) or small (timid)? Are they signing rushedly (impatient) or slowly? Messily (sad) or pointedly (annoyed)? Consider what you can make come across without directly addressing it in dialogue! Something ese about ASL is that English speakers who are learning it tend to think the speakers a little nosy: they are more than able to pick up on the unsaid, and they aren't afraid to ask about it.
Above all, don't be afraid to ask questions, do research or accept advice! New languages can be big and scary things, but don't let that make you shy away. Again, there is nothing wrong with deciding to write ASL the same as you write your English. I've personally found that experimenting with ASL dialogue in stories has aided me in becoming more aware of how to describe everything, from sappy emotional moments to action-packed fighting scenes. Writing ASL has helped me think about new ways to improve my description in more everyday contexts, and I hope it can be a big help to you as well, both in learning about Deaf culture and in pursuing your future writing endeavors. :)
P.S: I am quite literally only dipping my toes into the language and culture. I cannot emphasize how important it is to do your own research if it's someting you're interested in!
P.P.S: I want to apologize for my earlier P.S! What I meant by “I am … dipping my toes into the language and culture” was in direct regards to the post; what I should have said is “this post is only dipping its toes into the language and culture.” While I am not Deaf myself, I am a sophomore in college minoring in ASL and Deaf Culture, and I am steadily losing my hearing. Of course, that does not make me an authority figure on the topic, which is why I strongly encourage you to do your own research, ask your own questions, and consult any Deaf friends, family, or online peers you may have.
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corvidcall · 2 years
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None Of You Know What Haiku Are
I'm going to preface this by saying that i am not an expert in ANY form of poetry, just an enthusiast. Also, this post is... really long. Too long? Definitely too long. Whoops! I love poetry.
If you ask most English-speaking people (or haiku-bot) what a haiku is, they would probably say that it's a form of poetry that has 3 lines, with 5, and then 7, and then 5 syllables in them. That's certainly what I was taught in school when we did our scant poetry unit, but since... idk elementary school when I learned that, I've learned that that's actually a pretty inaccurate definition of haiku. And I think that inaccurate definition is a big part of why most people (myself included until relatively recently!) think that haiku are kind of... dumb? unimpressive? simple and boring? I mean, if you can just put any words with the right number of syllables into 3 lines, what makes it special?
Well, let me get into why the 5-7-5 understanding of haiku is wrong, and also what makes haiku so special (with examples)!
First of all, Japanese doesn't have syllables! There's a few different names for what phonetic units actually make up the language- In Japanese, they're called "On" (音), which translates to "sound", although English-language linguists often call it a "mora" (μ), which (quoting from Wikipedia here) "is a basic timing unit in the phonology of some spoken languages, equal to or shorter than a syllable." (x) "Oh" is one syllable, and also one mora, whereas "Oi" has one syllable, but two moras. "Ba" has one mora, "Baa" has two moras, etc. In English, we would say that a haiku is made up of three lines, with 5-7-5 syllables in them, 17 syllables total. In Japanese, that would be 17 sounds.
For an example of the difference, the word "haiku", in English, has 2 syllables (hai-ku), but in Japanese, はいく has 3 sounds (ha-i-ku). "Christmas" has 2 syllables, but in Japanese, "クリスマス" (ku-ri-su-ma-su) is 5 sounds! that's a while line on its own! Sometimes the syllables are the same as the sounds ("sushi" is two syllables, and すし is two sounds), but sometimes they're very different.
In addition, words in Japanese are frequently longer than their English equivalents. For example, the word "cuckoo" in Japanese is "ほととぎす" (hototogisu).
Now, I'm sure you're all very impressed at how I can use an English to Japanese dictionary (thank you, my mother is proud), but what does any of this matter? So two languages are different. How does that impact our understanding of haiku?
Well, if you think about the fact that Japanese words are frequently longer than English words, AND that Japanese counts sounds and not syllables, you can see how, "based purely on a 17-syllable counting method, a poet writing in English could easily slip in enough words for two haiku in Japanese” (quote from Grit, Grace, and Gold: Haiku Celebrating the Sports of Summer by Kit Pancoast Nagamura). If you're writing a poem using 17 English syllables, you are writing significantly more content than is in an authentic Japanese haiku.
(Also not all Japanese haiku are 17 sounds at all. It's really more of a guideline.)
Focusing on the 5-7-5 form leads to ignoring other strategies/common conventions of haiku, which personally, I think are more interesting! Two of the big ones are kigo, a season word, and kireji, a cutting word.
Kigo are words/phrases/images associated with a particular season, like snow for winter, or cherry blossoms for spring. In Japan, they actually publish reference books of kigo called saijiki, which is basically like a dictionary or almanac of kigo, describing the meaning, providing a list of related words, and some haiku that use that kigo. Using a a particular kigo both grounds the haiku in a particular time, but also alludes to other haiku that have used the same one.
Kireji is a thing that doesn't easily translate to English, but it's almost like a spoken piece of punctuation, separating the haiku into two parts/images that resonate with and add depth to each other. Some examples of kireji would be "ya", "keri", and "kana." Here's kireji in action in one of the most famous haiku:
古池や 蛙飛び込む 水の音 (Furu ike ya kawazu tobikomu mizu no oto) (The old pond — A frog jumps in The sound of the water.)
You can see the kireji at the end of the first line- 古池や literally translates to "old pond ya". The "ya" doesn't have linguistic meaning, but it denotes the separation between the two focuses of the haiku. First, we are picturing a pond. It's old, mature. The water is still. And then there's a frog! It's spring and he's fresh and new to the world! He jumps into the pond and goes "splash"! Wowie! When I say "cutting word", instead of say, a knife cutting, I like to imagine a film cut. The camera shows the pond, and then it cuts to the frog who jumps in.
English doesn't really have a version of this, at least not one that's spoken, but in English language haiku, people will frequently use a dash or an ellipses to fill the same role.
Format aside, there are also some conventions of the actual content, too. They frequently focus on nature, and are generally use direct language without metaphor. They use concrete images without judgement or analysis, inviting the reader to step into their shoes and imagine how they'd feel in the situation. It's not about describing how you feel, so much as it's about describing what made you feel.
Now, let's put it all together, looking at a haiku written Yosa Buson around 1760 (translated by Harold G. Henderson)
The piercing chill I feel: my dead wife's comb, in our bedroom, under my heel
We've got our kigo with "the piercing chill." We read that, and we imagine it's probably winter. It's cold, and the kind of cold wind that cuts through you. There's our kireji- this translation uses a colon to differentiate our two images: the piercing chill, and the poet stepping on his dead wife's comb. There's no descriptions of what the poet is feeling, but you can imagine stepping into his shoes. You can imagine the pain he's experiencing in that moment on your own.
"But tumblr user corvidcall!" I hear you say, "All the examples you've used so far are Japanese haiku that have been translated! Are you implying that it's impossible for a good haiku to be written in English?" NO!!!!! I love English haiku! Here's a good example, which won first place in the 2000 Henderson haiku contest, sponsored by the Haiku Society of America:
meteor shower . . . a gentle wave wets our sandals
When you read this one, can you imagine being in the poet's place? Do you feel the surprise as the tide comes in? Do you feel the summer-ness of the moment? Haiku are about describing things with the senses, and how you take in the world around you. In a way, it's like the poet is only setting a scene, which you inhabit and fill with meaning based on your own experiences. You and I are imagining different beaches, different waves, different people that make up the "our" it mentioned.
"Do I HAVE to include all these things when I write haiku? If I include all these things, does that mean my haiku will be good?" I mean, I don't know. What colors make up a good painting? What scenes make up a good play? It's a creative medium, and nobody can really tell you you can't experiment with form. Certainly not me! But I think it's important to know what the conventions of the form are, so you can appreciate good examples of it, and so you can know what you're actually experimenting with. And I mean... I'm not the poetry cops. But if you're not interested in engaging with the actual conventions and limitations of the form, then why are you even using that form?
I'll leave you with one more English language haiku, which is probably my favorite haiku ever. It was written by Tom Bierovic, and won first place at the 2021 Haiku Society of America Haiku Awards
a year at most . . . we pretend to watch the hummingbirds
Sources: (x) (x) (x) (x) (x) (x)
Further reading:
Forms in English Haiku by Keiko Imaoka Haiku: A Whole Lot More Than 5-7-5 by Jack How to Write a Bad Haiku by KrisL Haiku Are Not a Joke: A Plea from a Poet Who Has Had It Up to Here by Sandra Simpson Haiku Checklist by Katherine Raine
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jupitermelichios · 1 year
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Hey, we need to talk about the way Batfamily fans write Cass using ASL, because a lot of it is really fucking ableist
But Cass can't speak, of course she needs to sign!
Not true! There is nothing physically wrong with Cass's vocal chords or mouth, there's nothing in her brain stopping her from making sounds, and she is not an elective mute. She actually learns to speak individual words really quickly after she puts herself into an environment where that's a useful skill. Basil teaches her to quote huge chunks of Shakespeare in Nu52, and that's easier for her than forming simple sentences. That would definitely not be the case if she had any physical limitations on her speech.
Cass's disability is that she was not taught any language, and so she is having to grok the entire concept of language from the ground up. Grammar and syntax; tonality; how to combine words to convey more complex ideas; how putting two words next to one another can change their meaning; how to break down a whole idea into the individual parts needed to turn it into words; the fact that people's words might not line up with their tone and body language so you have to pay attention to both; how to tell if someone wants a response or is stating a fact; how to work out meaning from context if a word is new or someone has an unfamiliar accent; how to know if someone is using a new word or if they actually just have an unfamilar accent and all the ways words can be bent and changed before they become something new; the fact that two words can use the same sounds but have the same meaning; the fact that there can be two different words that mean the same thing. This is all stuff she didn't learn as a baby, and not knowing it would be just as much an impediment to learning ASL as learning English (for accent, swap out things like having limited movement in their hands, or having learned slightly different forms of the same sign, using a lot of home-signs etc, it's the same concept in a different medium).
There is no language on earth Cass wouldn't have these problems with. ASL is not any kind of shortcut.
But she reads body language, and ASL is kind of like body language right?
Not true, also pretty abelist! Just as the sounds which make up spoken language are essentially arbitrary (there's no objective reason why the sound "gud" should mean good, English speakers just all agree it does) so most of the signs in ASL are arbitrary! There's no reason for
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to mean good. ASL users just all agree that it does. Cass knowing body language would not help her any more with ASL than it would with English, and if anything, it might make it harder, because sign uses the whole body and therefore changes the way people use body language so unless she saw a lot of ASL users as a child (and there's no particular reason to think she did), she would have to adjust what she knows about body language to account for those differences!
But she signs in the comics!
Nope! She uses hand gestures to communicate sometimes, but that's not signing. Pointing at food and miming eating to convey hunger is not sign. Pretending to punch someone and pulling it at the last second to convey you could hurt them but won't (Cass's actual first communication with Bruce in the comics) isn't signing. I've done the point and mime thing in countries where I didn't speak the language, that does not mean I knew that country's native sign language!
But she learns ballet, that's like a physical language, so sign is the same thing!
Nope! Also low key kinda abelist. Dance is a method of communication, but it isn't a full language. There's almost no grammar or sentence structure, the vocabulary is extremely limited, and also you can just make up new dance moves or use moves from different styles of dance together and still convey your meaning (you cannot just make random gestures or use BSL and expect ASL users to understand you, because they're full complex languages). Cass vibes with dance pretty hard, but that's precisely because it isn't a language, it doesn't require any of the skills she struggles with in order to communicate emotion.
But ASL isn't like a real language, it's not as complex or nuanced as spoken English so it would be easier for her to learn
That is so fucking gross I don't even want to have this conversation with you. Go and sit in the timeout box and think about what you've just said, and then commit to doing better.
But I just think that once she learned it, she'd like using ASL because [it's very expressive/she's used to her world being very quiet/she can use it on stealth missions more easily/etc]
Valid, understandable, have a lovely day
But I'm writing an AU were she uses ASL because her backstory is too comic-book-y to fit in no-capes AUs but I didn't want to erase her communication difficulties so I've written her as having a different disability
Cool. Send me a link when you're done.
But what if I write her using makatong?
(For context, makatong is a form of sign developed for people who have intellectual or phsyical disabilities that affect language use, which uses more descriptive signs which require less precise hand possitioning than other sign languages, and which has very simple grammar, making it easier to learn than ASL). Yes this would be easier for her, because it's intended for people with similar difficulties to hers, but since her difficulties stem purely from a lack of experience which can be (and are, in canon) overcome with practise, it would be kind of needlessly limiting compared to her just starting out with very simple spoken language, and wouldn't give her as many chances to develop those language learning skills. Makatong is also not mutually intelligable with any other sign language, so she couldn't easily transition from that to ASL once she got used to signing, she'd have to start learning it from scratch.
But I HC her as deaf
There is 0 comics evidence to support that, but it's a headcanon, so who cares. You do you. Have fun.
But learning sign language would be better than learning to speak anyway because it's a universal language!
That is not even slightly how it work. Go read the wikipedia article on sign languages around the world or something. Do some research.
TL:DR; Cass does not use ASL in the comics, and nothing about her disability or sign languages in general would make learning ASL easier or more convinent for her than spoken English. That does't mean writing her signing is inherently bad, but you should examine your reasons for doing it to ensure you're not just perpetuating ableist stereotypes about the language.
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flowerandblood · 2 months
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The Fall from the Heavens (21)
[ canon • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]
[ warnings: oral sex, sexual tension, smut, angst, dirty talk ]
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[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]
The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.
Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Childhood
* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *
Next chapters: Masterlist
_____
When she woke up in her chamber the sun was already slowly setting behind the walls of the Red Keep. She muttered under her breath in displeasure, twisting in her place, feeling discomfort in her lower abdomen and looked down, feeling a wave of disappointment and pain once again.
She sighed heavily, putting aside the already cold purse of water that had brought her great relief and allowed her to sleep for a few hours. Although she was distraught and terrified, the thought of her uncle's reaction and behaviour towards her made a warm, pleasant feeling spill over her heart.
She smiled involuntarily at the thought, wondering if he had just been at the Small Council meeting and would be back soon.
It wasn't long when the door to her chamber opened, and a moment later her husband walked in, pale, staring at her with wide-open eye.
Her heart pounded harder in horror at that look.
"We have received your mother's demands."
The word that she wanted to see her, to speak to her, and the fact that Aegon had agreed to it at the same time filled her with joy and horror.
She missed her and longed to hear her voice again, but she did not know what her mother was planning, what she hoped to hear from her lips.
What if she believed that her daughter had married her uncle just to survive?
That her affection for him was a lie and she would stab him in the back when she got the chance?
Her husband didn't seem pleased either as the affair became more and more complicated and there seemed to be no end to it all, no solution they could reach together.
On the second morning after King sent his response, a raven arrived in the Red Keep with word that her mother had agreed to the arrangements and would indeed be waiting with her husband in the Eyrie on the appointed day to speak to her daughter and her half-brother.
Her husband had no intention of spending a single night in the Eyrie, so he just acceded to his brother's suggestion and decided that the day before the agreed date they would travel to Harrenhal. She was not delighted with this idea, having heard many unflattering opinions about her father's brother.
Word had also reached her that a witch lived behind the walls of this grim fortress.
Still, she understood her husband's caution and anxiety, so she did not defy him, demanding something else in return.
"I will fly with you on Larax."
"No."
"If my mother sees that you did not allow me to fly on my own dragon she will not believe that anything that leaves my mouth was spoken of my own free will. She will see it as an excuse to believe that I still remain to you only a prisoner." She said impatiently; her husband turned his face towards the fire, sitting on one of the chairs at the table, licking his lower lip with his tongue in a nervous gesture, frustrated.
He did not reply.
She approached him slowly and knelt beside him on the cold stone floor, taking his hand in hers, placing a warm, tender kiss on it. She saw out of the corner of her eye that he had closed his eyelids, that he was losing the battle with himself.
"Please, husband. Give me this joy."
Though reluctant, her uncle finally gave her his wordless consent, but he remained silent throughout the evening and locked himself in his mind, tense.
It didn't help that she was still bleeding.
Not wishing to cause him any discomfort with an intimacy full of these disgusting fluids, she did not attempt to touch him, and he, apparently fearing that he might cause her pain in this state, also refrained from doing so.
The carriages filled with their belongings had long since left King's Landing when she and her uncle left the walls of the Red Keep.
She could see that he was pale, looking at her with his lips pressed together, unhappy and unsure whether he was making the right decision. He sighed heavily as she touched his cheek with her soft palm.
"I will join you in the sky soon, husband. I promise." She whispered and rose on her tiptoes, placing a moist, warm kiss on his cheek exactly as she had done that day, when he ran after her. Her husband hummed under his breath at her words and moved ahead, while she turned the other way, heading for the Dragon's Pit.
At the behest of her uncle, the servants who had been taking care of their dragons since their childhood led Larax into the main cave – her dragoness squealed loudly in despair at the sight of her, her sounds reminding her of the crying of a child.
She ran to her with tears in her eyes, feeling that the sight was breaking her heart.
She had been locked away for so long, terrified and imprisoned just as she was.
"Shijetra nyke, Larax. Shijetra nyke. Lykiri (Forgive me, Larax. Forgive me. Easy)." She mumbled, reaching out to her – her dragoness tilted her head and let her touch her, pushing against her chest, showing her how much she longed for her closeness.
As she climbed into her saddle again, as she again commanded her to move ahead, to take to the skies, and as the wind and speed blew her hair away, she felt a wonderful surge of adrenaline, freedom and happiness. She soared high into the sky, commanding her to fly in the right direction.
Larax let out a loud cry, terrified, wanting to escape, when suddenly Vhagar flew over her, her mighty wings causing a wave of air to hit them.
"Lykiri, Larax! Gaomagon sagon zūgagon daor! Sōvēs! (Calm down, Larax! Do not be afraid! Fly!)" She commanded, and after a moment she managed to regain control of her, heading after the great beast towards the fortress where her father had died.
Although she knew her husband was terrified at the prospect of letting her ride her own dragon, she noticed out of the corner of her eye his silhouette and his face staring back at her, from a distance she had the impression he was smiling.
She thought with a squeeze in her heart that he must have been dreaming of this moment since they were children.
Him and her, flying side by side on their dragons.
Exactly as it should be.
Thanks to the good weather, their several-hour journey turned out to be less tiresome than she thought it would be; she felt an immense ache in her muscles after a long break from flying as soon as they landed and she dismounted from her saddle anyway.
She had to wait for her husband, who had to land on Vhagar much further away so that no houses were destroyed, therefore she allowed herself to look around, feeling that her heart was pounding like mad.
"Your Grace. What a joy." She heard the voice of Larys Strong as he strode towards her through the gates of his fortress, leaning on his staff, followed by several guards and a woman who immediately caught her attention.
Her long, straight black hair, her bare shoulders, her full breasts, her slender figure and her eyes surrounded by her dark lashes, her irises having the colour of fresh, juicy grass.
She lowered her gaze, never having seen such a beautiful and mysterious woman before in her life, finally glancing at Lord Strong, realising she should say something in reply.
She had never trusted him or had a good opinion of him.
She believed he was responsible for her father's death and she didn't want to speak to him.
"My Lord Strong. Thank you for being willing to host us." She mumbled finally, forcing a warm smile, Larys Strong nodded. They all bowed as they spotted her husband approaching from the distance, his black leather coat and hair blown by the wind.
"My Prince."
"Lord Strong. Take us to our quarters." Her uncle commanded him, his voice as hoarse and shaky as hers from the emotion they had both apparently experienced while flying.
Her uncle and Larys Strong walked through the gate first and she moved to follow them, the woman who stood beside him, whoever she was, strolled a few paces behind her, her pleasant scent reaching her nostrils.
Lavender and cloves.
"We have prepared for you, my Prince, the most magnificent quarters in the entire fortress. I have no use for it anyway; I would get tired climbing all those steps every day. Nearby we have prepared rooms for your wife, I assure you −"
"No need. My wife will spend the night in my chamber." Her husband interrupted him, pulling his leather gloves from his hands, stepping inside the room, looking around with frustration and impatience.
Having been with him on a daily routine, accustomed to him conversing with her of his own accord, she had already forgotten how much he resented speaking to strangers for longer than necessary.
"As you wish, my Prince. However, I will leave the rooms I spoke of at your wife's disposal for her own convenience. I have also assigned her a servant to ensure that while we men are conversing, she will have company. There are several matters I would like to discuss with you."
She and her uncle cast quick, concerned glances at each other; her husband hit the side of his cheek with the tip of his tongue, furious.
She knew the expression on his face, knew he was only dreaming of rest, but they were his guests and he was not in a position to simply refuse him.
Lord Strong looked at her expectantly and her uncle nodded at her, albeit reluctantly, to leave them alone. The woman standing beside her raised her hand and indicated with a gesture where they were to go, so she set off in that direction.
The chamber her father's brother had assigned her was smaller and more modest than that of her husband's, but it had a more pleasant view from the window, straight over the forest and the clearing where her dragoness slept.
She involuntarily smiled under her breath as she pressed her palm against the glass, seeing Larax, forgetting for a moment that she was not alone.
"Do you desire to change into something…more comfortable, Your Grace?" She heard a low, melodious, pleasant female voice behind her. She looked up at her and nodded.
"Yes. What do they call you?" She asked uncertainly. The woman smiled, looking at her calmly.
"Alys, Your Grace."
An awkward silence fell between them for a moment.
"I would not wish to… misunderstand who you are and what you have in common with Lord Strong, Alys." She said after a moment; the woman burst into a hearty, light laugh and shook her head.
"I am not his mistress. I am his relative, though I do not bear his name, as any bastard would." She replied softly, her voice gentle and full of understanding, as if she were speaking to a small child. She blinked, shocked by her words, her question leaving her lips before she had time to think what she was saying.
"Did you know my father?"
The woman looked at her for a moment before she nodded.
"Yes, Your Grace."
She felt her hand clench into a fist, her heart starting to beat like mad.
"His death wasn't an unfortunate ordeal, was it?" She asked in a trembling voice, the corner of the woman's mouth lifting in a grin.
"There are no such thing as unfortunate ordeals, Princess."
She left her enigmatic response unanswered, both intrigued and terrified of her at the same time; it seemed to her that the gaze of her luscious green eyes pierced her to the core.
"After the word has reached us here all the way from King's Landing, I have been looking forward to our meeting with impatience, and while I will admit that it is not what I expected, I am beginning to understand your husband's desperation." She spoke again with a hint of amusement from which she felt uncomfortable, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment at her words.
"What do you mean?" She muttered uneasily; the woman's gaze swept over her figure, as if assessing what she saw before her and combining it with her own conclusions in her head.
"Men are easily driven to desperation, though it usually takes time. They like to gain and take pride in what they have conquered; the greater, in their mind, the value of what they enclose in their embrace, the less they are willing to let it go." She said in a light, low, slightly dreamy voice, looking somewhere to the side, intertwining her hands in front of her.
"Your husband follows you with his thoughts even when he is not looking at you. His head, even when he is not speaking to you, is directed towards you so that he can see you out of the corner of his eye. When he feels discomfort, he involuntarily seeks your face to experience understanding and comfort."
She stared at her in disbelief, wondering if she had been able to see such a thing being in their company for just a moment, unable to hide how pleased her words made her.
She lowered her gaze, embarrassed, her heart pounding like mad.
Alys helped her change into one of the gowns that had arrived in Harrenhal in the chests before them, her long, graceful fingers entwining her dark, long hair into an intricate bun of many braids surrounding her head.
She had never had a similar hairstyle before and she liked it very much.
Alys escorted her to the chamber where her husband and Lord Strong had just eaten supper, then bowed and left, leaving them alone. Her husband looked at her intently as she sat beside him at the table with a smile, Larys Strong cast her a look full of curiosity.
"Beautiful hairstyle, Your Grace." He said softly, but she felt a sense of discomfort instead of gratitude, which, however, she did not give vent to in any way. She looked at her uncle, for some reason emboldened by the woman's words.
"And you, my husband? What do you think?" She asked softly, her uncle throwing her a calm, impassive look.
"I prefer it when your hair is loose." He merely replied, reaching for his goblet full of wine, taking a loud sip from it, setting it down on the table with a loud clinking of steel.
She felt like a silly little girl and lowered her gaze, feeling a squeeze in her throat as an awkward silence fell around them.
What had crossed her mind to ask such foolishness?
Did he think she asked it out of vanity?
It seemed to her that her uncle regretted the coldness in which he had expressed his opinion, for before she left to prepare for sleep he reminded her that immediately when she had finished she was to appear in his chamber.
She nodded her head at his words and pressed her lips together, only in the corridor letting a few regretful, embarrassed tears run down her face.
How could she take it so personally, expect empty compliments from him when she knew perfectly well that he loathed it?
As she stepped into her chamber she asked one of the servants to summon Alys, wanting her to help her take off her gown and to prepare her hot bath.
She had no intention of going to her husband after hours of travelling on a dragon all sticky from sweat and exertion.
Alys walked into her room with a smile and bowed, approaching her, seeing that she herself had already begun to untie her bodice.
"Was the Prince pleased with his wife's appearance, Your Grace?" She asked softly, and she swallowed quietly and sighed, lowering her gaze.
"Yes. Though he expressed his opinion that he prefers it when my hair is loose." She said resignedly, as if she had failed in some way by not meeting his expectations.
"Oh, that's understandable. He surely associates it with your intimacy and closeness, as any man would. The entwined curls and braids are for those around you, meanwhile the softness of your hair, the smell of them, the sight of them spread on the bed is something meant only for him." She replied lightly, as if she were speaking of something completely obvious and natural. She blinked, feeling that somehow her words comforted her.
"You know a lot about men…don't you?" She mumbled uncertainly, meeting her gaze in her reflection in the mirror, from which a shiver ran along her spine.
"Yes, Princess."
She swallowed hard, feeling her heart pounding hard at the thought.
"Have you seduced many yet?" She asked at last; the woman involuntarily giggled under her breath, finally releasing her from her gown, which fell lightly to the stone floor, leaving her in her white night gown.
Thankfully, her bleeding had almost stopped.
"Yes." She said with amusement, taking her garment in her hands and placing it gently back in one of the chests, being careful not to crumple it as she meanwhile stepped into the bath and sat in it with a sigh of relief, sinking into the hot water.
"I would like to … make my husband happy tonight. I know he needs relief from what's about to happen tomorrow. However, I can't do it, at least for now, in the way I usually do." She mumbled embarrassedly, trailing her fingers along the edge of the tub, not daring to look at her in fear that the woman would mock her.
"The easiest thing to do in that case would be for you to use your mouth." She replied with amusement, and she raised her eyes at her, shocked.
Although her husband had sunk his face between her thighs on several occasions just as he had the first night after her return to King's Landing, he had never expected her to reciprocate.
Before she could suggest anything he thrusted his manhood deep between her moist folds anyway.
The truth, however, was that even if she wanted to do it, she didn't know how.
"I'm…inexperienced in these matters." She confessed with shame, looking at her uncertainly, a smile on her face that she might have considered warm.
"I see." She murmured, approaching her slowly, startling her completely as she knelt beside her tub, gently grasping her wrist in her hand. "I can show you how you should do it, if that's what you wish, Your Grace."
She swallowed hard, feeling butterflies in her stomach and excitement, she licked her lower lip feeling it dry up with emotion.
"…How?"
Alys smiled, leaning towards her hand – she shuddered when her lips gently touched her finger, wondering with a fast beating heart what she was doing.
"Imagine that this is his manhood. Men don't say it out loud because pride won't let them, but they adore it when a woman showers them with gentle, tender caresses." She cooed as she closed her eyelids, running her full, moist lips up and down her pointing finger, leaving a wet trail of her saliva on it.
She looked at this sight as if enchanted, feeling an involuntary throbbing inside her imagining that she had knelt before her uncle and touched him like this.
She drew in air loudly, feeling a pleasant shiver run down her spine as the woman slipped the tip of her finger gently into her mouth, teasing it with her wet, fleshy tongue; she sighed helplessly feeling her nipples become hard, her walls clenching around nothing.
"− and then − when he begins breathing faster − when you feel he's completely ready −" She gasped softly between the brushes of her lips and suddenly slipped her whole finger into her mouth, starting to suck it unhurriedly with a quiet click of her saliva.
She didn't even notice when she began to breathe through her mouth, when her thighs clenched involuntarily under the water, seeking any kind of release of the tension that was building up inside her.
There was something so lewd and inappropriate about what she was seeing and feeling that she felt like a moan was about to come out of her throat.
She shuddered as Alys suddenly opened her eyes − a misty darkness in the green of her irises that she had often seen in her husband's gaze, her lips released her finger with a quiet click.
"− you pretty little thing − it's usually him taking care of you, isn't it? − he can't deny himself − I can't blame him −" She whispered, and she felt heat in her lower abdomen, her walls clenching greedily around nothing.
They both flinched as the door to her chamber suddenly opened, Alys stood up quickly and bowed, closing her eyes.
"My Prince."
"− get out −" She heard her husband's warning growl; she turned over her shoulder, looking at him with wide eyes, all red, breathing loudly through her mouth, looking shocked as the woman immediately left her quarters.
"− what is the meaning of this? − hm? −" He asked furiously standing over the tub as soon as the door closed behind her, fury in his eyes.
She couldn't find any meaningful answer in her head, her mind was completely blank.
Her uncle pressed his lips together in impatience, apparently trying not to explode.
"− can't I leave you alone even for a fucking moment? −" He hissed, and she shook her head, looking at him pleadingly.
"− I − I asked her for help −"
"− help with what, that she had to kneel beside you and hold your hand? − you are fucking bare −"
"− I − I can't tell you, it's embarrassing −"
"− gods, I swear I'm about to rip you to shreds −"
"− we were discussing embarrassing feminine matters − she showed me something…important − for you too −" She muttered, his jaw clenched in displeasure.
He didn't believe her.
"− I want to know what this brazen whore was doing to my wife −" He growled with an impatience so strong that she knew that if she didn't give him the answer he expected, her uncle was really about to explode and would surely knock her out along with her tub on the floor.
"− very well − I − I will try to show it to you − just − just don't get upset and sit on the bed −" She mumbled pleadingly, looking at him with her big eyes.
She saw that at her words his anger began to slowly fade, giving place to a slight intrigue in his gaze.
He hummed low and took a few steps back, as she requested, sitting down on her bed, looking at her watchfully.
She swallowed hard, rising from the tub with a loud splash of water, walking slowly out of the bath. He blinked, surprised when she sat on the floor in front of him, but with her back to him, reaching for the pins woven into her hair.
"− you have to help me, because I won't be able to do it myself until morning −" She muttered in displeasure, all heated up from the hot water her body had just been submerged in, her nightgown all soaked, clinging to her naked skin.
She heard her husband sigh heavily, leaning over her with a loud creak of the bed, sliding the pins out of her hairstyle, making the curls of her hair start to fall over her shoulders.
"− it was her idea too, wasn't it? −" He sneered disapprovingly and she let the air out of her lungs, tired.
"− I really liked the way I looked −" She burbled resentfully; she heard his heavy sigh again, however this time he answered nothing more.
When her hair was finally completely loose she turned to face him, already visibly calmer, his hand involuntarily went to her cheek, his thumb running over her soft skin.
His pupil narrowed as her fingers unfastened the buckles of his tunic and reached into the ties of his breeches, she felt his bulge beneath her palms throbbing hard.
"− what are you doing? −" He muttered uncertainly, coolly, as if terrified of what he had just imagined.
"− I want to kiss you there with my lips − are you repelled by the thought? −" She asked softly, releasing his swollen, half-hard erection, feeling him shudder as she grasped it gently in her hand, guiding it to her face.
"− what? – no − b-but − I − oh −" He gasped as she ran her lips over the pink head of his cock with a rapidly pounding heart; she felt satisfaction when his length twitched aggressively in her embrace.
She knew he wanted to say more as his mouth remained open, but he simply stared at her, breathing loudly, his thumb gently stroking her cheek as she mimicked Alys's cues by running her lips from the root of his manhood to the very tip of it.
She heard him sigh in pleasure, closing his eyes for a moment, his hips involuntarily began to buck, pressing his already fully hard erection closer to her face, searching for any source of friction.
"− this − this is what she showed you? − hm? −" He gasped, as if he was simultaneously thrilled and enraged by this vision.
Not wanting him to think about it too much she used her tongue, running it up to the very top of the head of his cock, feeling the veins under his skin clearly, a low, hoarse groan stuck in his throat, his hand tightening in her hair.
"− fuck − g-gods −" He muttered in a trembling voice, his breathing increasingly shaky and accelerated – she knew he was aroused, and his sounds made her feel that unbearable, intense tickling and pulsing between her thighs again.
She was wet.
In some subconscious instinct, his hand tentatively guided the pink, swollen head of his cock against her lips, and she parted them, letting him slide between them with a loud sigh of pleasure.
"− squeeze − squeeze with your hand what doesn't fit inside − and suck − oh, yes, little one, just like that −" He exhaled delighted tilting his head back as she let him deep into her palate, his tip bumping again and again with the sure thrusts of his hips against the back wall of her throat causing her to gag, tears of exertion pooling in her eyes.
"− if this is too much − hit me twice on the thigh −" He gasped, looking down at her, and she merely nodded, clamping her hand over the base of his hard length, sucking it slowly with a loud click of her saliva.
She reminded herself about her tongue and what Alys was doing with it, so she made use of it, and every time her husband thrust his erection into her its tip teased and licked him; his two hands tightened in her hair with his low groan, quickening his pace.
"− oh − oh, fuck, little one − mghm − gods −" He panted, invading her throat with deep, fast pushes, making use of her mouth as he saw fit, a high-pitched moan erupted from her lungs as she felt him aggressively pulsing between her lips, breathing hard through her nose, trying not to suffocate.
"− I know − please, please, let me − oh, fuck, yes, swallow it, swallow, swallow, swallow −" He commanded in a shuddering gasp full of pleasure and relief. She squirmed as his hot, sticky seed spilled down her palate straight into her throat; she swallowed some of it with difficulty and coughed, trying not to choke, a pearly trickle of his spend ran off the corner of her mouth down her chin.
Good gods.
They were both panting loudly and quivering, his face pressed against her hair, on which he still clamped his fingers, not letting her escape.
"− just a moment more − please, just a moment more − so warm −" He mumbled, and she swallowed hard, breathing loudly through her nose with his half soft length deep in her throat. It seemed to her for a moment that he might have fallen asleep in that position, but eventually he took pity on her and slid out of her mouth, allowing her to take a deep breath.
She involuntarily put her arms around his knee, exhausted, hugging her face to his thigh, breathing hard, not believing she had really done it.
Her womanhood pulsed all over, her thighs were all sticky from her moisture.
She sighed in relief when she felt his large hand begin to stroke her hair with a tender, calm gesture, his breathing still erratic and accelerated.
"− come − come here − your husband need to take care of you −"
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communistkenobi · 1 year
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I always get a little annoyed at posts saying “btw did you know conservatives don’t know what they’re talking about? did you know that they’re incorrect about x?”. And it’s not because that’s wrong per se (conservatives don’t know what they’re talking about and they’re almost always factually incorrect, which is a significant part of why their politics are awful), but focusing on the factual substance of their claims tends to obscure the reason why they’re being incorrect in the first place. like yes they sound ridiculous when they say “I don’t believe in pronouns” but its not because they don’t understand how grammar works. The purpose of that statement is to argue that gender should not be negotiable through language, that to use “pronouns” is to attempt to alter someone’s god-given ontological gender and is therefore morally wrong. And because this discussion is dominated by English-speakers (gendered pronouns are not universal) living in imperial countries, a deeper claim is being made, that trans people are perverting the most enlightened language, the language of the West, the language that dominates all others. This also very neatly fits into right wing antisemitic conspiracies about the oncoming death of western civilisation, which is not an accident!
So conservatives are latching onto a word that has been recently infused with fresh political meaning in public discourse and using it as a rhetorical platform to be disgusting. They know how language works - language is contestable, it is both subject to constant change and a medium through which that change is negotiated. Trans people are making a claim (gender is partially mediated through language and therefore gender is reinforced and expressed linguistically) and conservatives are making a counter claim (no it isn’t). “I don’t believe in pronouns” is not an argument about the technical structure of language, it is an argument that trans people are so perverse that we infect and degrade the base components of language itself.
So yes, point out that they’re incorrect, but they aren’t incorrect because they’re stupid or ignorant, and being incorrect is not the primary problem with their rhetoric. That is a strategic statement which is deliberately inflammatory, can fit neatly inside both tweets and headlines, and makes a very grand conspiratorial claim about reality (any mention of pronouns is evidence of a transgender plot to destroy western civilisation and indoctrinate children), and this is all accomplished with a 5-word sentence that can be repeated ad nauseum. So the issue at hand isn’t a failure to observe the basic components of language, it’s a violent call to action to remove trans people from public discourse, and eventually public life entirely.
Conservatives are incorrect for a reason. They are incorrect on purpose because they don’t care what the truth is. They are politically savvy and incredibly successful at gaining and maintaining power. They know what they’re doing, and if your only critique of them is that they don’t have their facts straight, I think that’s just a really weak position to hold. What happens when they saying something factually correct? What happens when they know more than you? What happens when they’re well-spoken, well-read, and reasonable? What will you object to then?
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wileys-russo · 11 months
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head over (tar) heels II a.russo x reader
this one goes out to my favourite era (besides boyfriend less ofc) PSA: I’ve never been to an american college :)
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head over (tar) heels II a.russo x reader 4.7k words
the first interaction.
"shit." alessia mumbled to herself. anxiously chewing her bottom lip she held the campus map at eye line, tilting it to the side and squinting her eyes as if that might help her magically understand where she needed to go.
lotte and lois having a different class together had already taken off leaving alessia to stumble her way around hopelessly lost, attempting to navigate her way to geology.
the english girl was still relatively new and though given a quick tour on her first day, her american team mates seeming nice enough, she'd hardly had more than a couple rapid fire training sessions to get to know them and had no clue if they shared any classes in common.
homesickness had also meant that most of her spare time where she could have been putting more effort into getting to know them, had been instead consumed with constant phone calls back home, trying to wrap her head around the time difference and gazing longingly at photos of her friends and family. sharp pains shooting through her chest she repeatedly ticked over if such a huge decision had actually been the right one.
quickly checking the time on her phone alessia's stomach tightened into a knot, the blonde looking around in fear as more and more students disappeared into buildings and strode off confidently in all directions. alessia looked on with a sense of envy, her peers clearly knowing where they needed to go.
swallowing her panic alessia took a deep breath to re-ground before shoving the map into her bag, desperate for a solution. spotting a girl who looked potentially around her own age alessia mumbled herself some encouragement before hurrying off after the stranger. 
"uh, excuse me!" she called out, panic resurfacing when the girl either heard and ignored her, or had no clue alessia was even actually speaking to her.
then again why would she respond,  a critical element needed to signal you were actually being spoken to was someone knowing and calling out your name.
"sorry, excuse me." alessia reached the stranger, tapping her gently on the shoulder as the girl jumped in surprise, turning quickly and pulling an earphone out.
nice going less, pick someone who can't hear you and then startle her like a creep.
"yes?" you questioned raising an eyebrow expectantly, caught more off guard by the glowing blue orbs you'd now locked eyes with than the actual tap on your shoulder.
"i'm really sorry to bother you but i'm horrible with directions, would you happen to know where chapman hall is?" alessia asked nervously, the wind knocked right out of her chest at the sheer beauty of the girl standing in front of her.
your face softened at the obvious foreign accent and you nodded. "which building are you looking for?" you asked politely, pulling out your other earphone and tucking your phone away into the pocket of your hoodie. 
"uh 803 I think."
"geology with smith?" you guessed and alessias eyebrows furrowed, the taller of the two nodding in surprise. "same, we can go together." you sent the girl a dazzlingly reassuring smile, alessia's stomach doing back flips at the sight.
"god i thought i was never going to find it. thank you so much!" alessia sighed in relief, returning you a smile as the two of you set off, now in the right direction. 
(which had in fact been the opposite that alessia was originally headed)
 "so, british?" you questioned, cringing at yourself for the clearly obvious statement.
"alessia, actually." the blonde beside you joked, sending you a cheeky grin as she held out her hand, the italian unsure where her sudden boost of confidence had appeared from. "y/n, american." you shook her hand, the two of you pausing at your words before laughing, conversation flowing easily as you both made your way across campus.
"do you want me to properly show you around sometime? the place is huge but once you get settled you'll be an expert in no time!" you offered kindly, alessia having just finished telling you about what had brought her here in the first place, how attentive and interested you seemed in her words not lost on her.
"yeah actually that would be great. thanks!"
the realization.
"-and i think she's coming to the game on the weekend with her friends! though i told her she didn't have to cause its an away match and I know she has a load of assignments. but she's so smart she hardly even has to try, unlike me. i swear without her notes i'm gonna fail geology. but who even needs geology!" alessia rambled on, so focused packing her kit bag for an early training session tomorrow she missed the knowing smirk exchanged between her english team mates. 
"so less tell us exactly when are you asking her out then?" lois asked quite casually, alessia tripping and falling head first into her bag she was so caught off guard at the question, lotte shooting up to help the blonde back to her feet. 
"what?" alessia spluttered out, still in a state of shock as she peeled away the socks from her face.
"less, mate. you clearly like the girl, just ask her out!" lotte bumped her team mates shoulder supportively before sitting back down on the bed beside lois who nodded eagerly in agreement.
"i do not! we're just friends, don't make it weird." alessia mumbled, busying herself with unpacking and refolding her already neatly folded training kit.
"less, it's okay if you do like her. she's all you talk about half the time! plus the way your face lights up whenever she's around, it's a special thing to see." lotte tried again, smiling reassuringly at the younger girl who frowned sliding down onto the floor, uniform still in her hands as her head softly thumped back against her mattress of the bed behind her.
"her face lights up too! i don't think it's one sided. the two of you hang out all the time, sometimes it feels like you prefer her company over your own teammates!" lois teased with a grin, alessia's cheeks flushing a rosy pink as she shoved her uniform back into her bag, pulling her knees to her chest with a troubled sigh.
"how do you even know when you like someone...like that. not to say i do like her!" alessia was quick to correct, pointing a finger sternly toward the girls across from her who nodded. "well, when you're around her, you feel happy right?" lois started, alessia nodding, eyebrows still knitted into a frown.
"i feel like that when i see any of my friends lois." alessia answered bluntly, lois looking toward lotte to continue, the girl being the one everyone would go to for any sort of advice, wise beyond her years.
"when you guys aren't together, do you still speak? like message and stuff a lot of the time?" lotte questioned as alessia nodded in confirmation. "and when you aren't together, do you miss her? wish you were still hanging out?" alessia gave yet another nod at the question, this one a little more hesitant.
"what's something you like about her?" "well she's really really kind, and passionate, and she actually listens when someone speaks. like properly invested in the conversation, makes her easy to talk to." alessia answered honestly, eyes moving to gaze up towards the roof as she crossed her arms over her chest, legs thumping back down to the ground.
"okay, now I just want you to tell me the first thing that pops into your head yeah?" lotte encouraged softly, alessia nodding along in understanding, eyes still trained toward the roof.
"how do you feel around her? other than happy." "i don't know, sort of light headed i guess?" alessia answered with a small frown and an uncertain shrug.
"what's her favourite colour?" "green, like a forest green."
"biggest strength?" "she reads what people need really well."
"what's her major?" "social science."
"what's her first class tomorrow?" "ethics."
"first thing you notice about her?" "smile."
"thing you miss when she isn't there?" "her laugh."
"and where would you like to kiss her?" "on the lips."
a sudden somewhat suffocating silence filled the small dorm room. a beat of time passed before alessia jolted upright, eyes widening in shock as she registered how casually the last answer had slipped out, lotte sending her a knowing smile. 
"jesus christ lot if this football thing doesn't work out, you could be like a love expert or something..." lois spluttered out as she looked to the girl beside her in awe who simply shrugged.
"and that less is how you know you like someone."
the first kiss.
"-and that second goal what a rocket! poor keeper never stood a chance you just booted it!" you rambled excitedly, alessia laying down on her bed watching you reenact the goal with a soft smile, giggling as you kicked a throw pillow across the floor.
just over a month had passed now since the realization that alessia did in fact like you a lot more than she thought, and not as just a close friend. ever since then her feelings toward you seemed to grow more by the day, and in turn she began to pay closer attention to all of the small habits and traits that made you you.
like the way the corner of your eyes would crinkle when you smiled, tiny dimples appearing in each cheek. or the way you'd always put your hand over your mouth when you laughed, and need to be reminded to breathe in amongst your giggles, the tips of your ears flushing bright red.
or the way the tip of your tongue would poke through the small gap in your teeth when you concentrated, biting down on your bottom lip with a confused frown when stuck on a particularly hard question.
the way you'd frequently go on passionate tangents about all sorts of things, only stopping yourself from speaking once you realized you were on a tangent, your cheeks flushing rosy pink and a hasty apology issued shortly after, which alessia made sure to consistently promise you wasn't needed.
alessia knew your regular coffee order off by heart, often meeting you before or after class with the iced drink at the ready, stomach doing cartwheels at the way your eyes lit up every time she would.
the way you paid close attention when she explained the actual rules of football to you after the first time you came to watch one of her games, asking her all the right questions and seeming genuinely interested in her answers. your determined commitment to best understand what was her passion in life only making alessia grow more fond of you.
it spurred her on to play her best football when she knew you were in the crowd watching. which was practically every game you could, even dragging your friends to accompany you most of the time.
alessia had even picked up the habit of a regular celebration whenever she scored, something she'd never bothered with at any other time in her career, adoring how it meant she could hear your laughter ring out across the field at the goofy pose. the blonde well aware she was embarrassing herself, that came second to the sense of pride and satisfaction felt in making you smile.
by nature you'd always been quite an affectionate person around your friends, growing up in a family and a household where it lacked meant you sought physical touch amongst others. so it wasn't uncommon for your legs to be sprawled across alessia's lap, or for you to reach for her hand and mess around with her fingers during quiet lapses in conversation. 
nor was it uncommon for alessia's arm to be draped comfortably across the back of your shoulder blades, or your hands messing around with her hair as her head laid in your lap. you could easily spend hours doing and undoing tiny plaits in her long blonde locks to keep yourself occupied whilst helping the english girl study.
which unbeknownst to you, did quite the opposite as alessia's heart would hammer away in her chest at your touch. letters jumbled with one another as she attempted to read through your notes, often requesting you read them to her given that she couldn't focus on anything else but you.
but then came her lack of confidence to actually confess any of these feelings to you. the strikers painstakingly obvious swooning and doing all she could to gain your attention and affections was easily noticed by her teammates and friends, obvious to everyone it seemed but to you.
"okay my celebration did not look like that!" alessia defended herself as you broke out into a victory dance, kicking the throw pillow into alessia's closet which had become your decided temporary goal. "oh but it did, I even got it on video." you grinned, collapsing beside the older girl on her bed and pulling out your phone. clicking into the video it did indeed confirm alessia's fears, she looked like her dad when he had one too many and busted a move.
"delete that right now! there needs to be not a shred of evidence." alessia shook her head, reaching for your phone as you quickly clicked it off. "absolutely not." you grinned with a firm shake of your head.
"it's going right into my 'things to blackmail alessia with once she's a big famous soccer player' folder." you teased, the taller girl rolling her eyes.
"football." she corrected, squeezing at your cheeks as you playfully smacked away her hands. "soccer." you argued in the same mocking tone, poking at her nose. "one last chance to say it's football." alessia warned, your forehead creasing in confusion. "or wha-" you didn't even have time to finish your sentence before the question was answered for you, the english girls slender fingers digging into your side.
"lessi!" you squealed, wriggling and bucking your body trying to evade her but it was a fruitless task given the small king single bed you were both occupying. meaning very minimal space was available for you to move away from her without falling down to the floor.
"okay okay okay, football!" you all but yelled, shoving the striker away from you as you sunk into the mattress, chest heaving up and down struggling to catch your breath back. "I hate you." you wheezed out, kicking at her as your arm fell to cover your flushed face.
"no you don't, you could never." alessia teased with a grin, tugging your arm off of your face causing you to roll onto your side, the two of you now in very close proximity. seeing you so up close only made alessia's heart harder and faster in her chest, close enough for her to count the freckles that dotted across your tanned face, all thanks to the harsh carolina sun.
time seemed to slow as alessia shamelessly stared, her watchful gaze scanning across all of the tiny features which made you, well you. her eyes then met yours as if asking permission she lent in a tiny bit to test the waters, and when you didn't immediately recoil her body took over, silencing the screaming doubts and alarm bells ringing loudly in her head.
her warm lips met with yours, the kiss short but sweet as she pulled away eyes widening in shock at what she'd just done, reality had set in. but before she could utter out the apology which was stuck in her throat, you spoke first.
"finally russo, I've been waiting for you to do that." "what!"
meeting her family.
"gio promise me that you won't be a dick!" alessia sternly warned her older brother, the boy having come to visit and stay with her for a few weeks amid his travels. "less please. i'll be on my best behavior, scouts honor!" the older italian smiled charmingly, the two of them crammed into the makeshift campus bar, everyone having gathered together to watch one of the largest basketball matches of the college season against their rival school Duke.
"that's her over there." lotte interrupted, pointing you out where you sat at a table toward the back surrounded by your own group of friends, laughing at something one of them had said. "mum was right she is gorgeous. what's she dating you for?" gio teased, staring at his younger sister whose face twisted into a glare, punching his arm at the comment.
"well, best not waste time then!" gio clapped his sister on the back, grabbing a beer he was offered before striding off in your direction, alessia doing the same and hurrying after him, lotte and some of her other team mates in tow. "lessi, hi!" you cheered happily as you spotted her, grinning as you stared up towards the taller girl whose nerves melted away somewhat at the sight, noticing you were clearly already a little tipsy.
greeting your friends she exchanged hugs with some of them she knew quite well, introducing her brother as lotte pulled you aside and into a hug, making your own way around greeting alessia's friends as the two groups merged into one, everyone hollering in anticipation as the buzzer sounded and the game commenced on the tv's scattered around the room.
eventually, after you'd finished making your rounds with your girlfriends team mates you ended up in front of her brother. alessia's world then suddenly seemed to freeze, stuck temporarily in conversation with a few of her friends across the other side of the table, contemplating quite literally jumping over it to come to your aid.
but it seemed that wasn't necessary as with only a few words exchanged between you and her brother both parties laughed and gio pulled you into a friendly hug, sitting down and busying you in conversation as alessia let out a deep exhale she hadn't realized she was even holding in.
"see, worried your pretty little head off for nothing. it's fine! relax and have a drink, lets go Heels!" lotte finished with a scream, holding up her beer as everyone around her echoed the chant, raising their own drinks in cheers.
~
"i think i might have a new favourite russo now, sorry babe." you later teased the blonde, sat on her lap as the game counted down its final minutes, her arms wrapped tightly around your torso.
"well you're only human." gio winked, clinking his beer against yours as alessia gently pinched at your thigh for the comment, her jacket draped around your shoulders.
suddenly the bar exploded into an electric scream as the final buzzer sounded, signaling that UNC had won. it was the first time you'd conquered your rivals in two years you happily informed gio, who looked around in confusion as the bar suddenly emptied, everyone running out hollering and cheering in packs.
"it's a campus tradition, everyone runs onto main street and they start a bonfire!" one of alessia's team mates informed as the table all stood to their feet, alessia making sure to keep a tight hold on your hand as both of you were hustled out of the bar and into the crisp autumn air by the large horde of drunken fans.
"this is the weirdest tradition ever. all of this over a college basketball game!" gio laughed in disbelief as he filmed the chaos interrupting around you all, him and lotte running alongside you and alessia as cheers and singing broke out amongst the huge crowd of college students sprinting wildly in all directions.
"quick, let's go Heels!" lotte drunkenly shouted at the top of her lungs, yourself joining in with her as you dropped your girlfriends hand, launching yourself onto lotte as the girl sprinted off with you in a piggyback.
"be careful please!" alessia shouted after the two of you with a face splitting grin, cheeks flushed rose pink, a combination of the alcohol she'd consumed and the sudden temperature change now standing outdoors.
"i've never seen you like this." gio smiled toward his younger sister, the two of them now pushing their way through the crowd. "what do you mean?" alessia laughed, glancing over at him before standing up on tippy toes to try and spot you or lotte. 
"like this. so happy and care free, grinning like a bloody cheshire cat. we were a bit worried you'd come running right back home with all the calls after you first left, but then they stopped and now i think i can somewhat see why." gio laughed, nodding toward where the taller boy could see you and lotte, having linked up with some more of your friends just a little way deeper into the crowd.
"she's not the only reason i like it here!" alessia's cheeks deepened in color, catching onto what her brother was insinuating. "no but she contributes to it, and that's not something you've had before. it's nice!" gio smiled sincerely, alessia wrapping him into a hug. 
"but luca and I do have a bet going on how long it'll be before she realises she's out of your league and moves onto someone else. so if you could accelerate that to...before january, i'd be ten pound richer!" her brother smirked, alessia shaking her head and shoving him away playfully as he messed up her hair.
"you couldn't just let us have a lovely moment, could you?" "that's not what brother's are for, you should have learnt that by now."
pre match traditions.
"there, all done." you bent down to peck your girlfriends cheek as you finished braiding her hair. 
seeing her struggle and offering to do it once early on in your friendship had quickly turned into it being a match day tradition between the two of you, alessia quite superstitious when it came to big games.
and today, her junior championship final, was the big game.
"thank you. checklist?" the older girl sighed, pushing herself up using your knees as leverage from where she sat between your legs on the floor, grabbing her kit bag.
"socks, shin guards, boots, water bottle, finger tape, spare socks, chewing gum, deodorant, perfume, dry shampoo, back up water bottle, yellow gatorade, protein bar." you ticked off using your fingers, alessia humming in confirmation at each object as she located it, zipping her bag up and placing it back on your floor.
"what if i miss a sitter and it's my fault we lose?" the blonde collapsed onto her back on the bed beside you, burying her face in her hands. "you won't. it's okay to be nervous but with soccer you can't afford to dwell on all the what if's...a certain little birdy told me that." you gently pried the girls hands away, interlocking your fingers and pressing a gentle kiss to the pad of her thumb.
"football." alessia corrected, unable to help the smile that grew on her face at your words. "come here." the striker was quick to pull you on top of her, your legs straddling her hips as you leant your forehead against hers. "hi." you smiled sweetly, pecking her lips and attempting to sit up but a strong pair of arms wrapped around your back, pressing your body tightly against the one beneath you.
"give me a proper kiss." the older girl whined, lip jutting out into a pout as you rolled your eyes but obliged none the less, quickly pulling away as you felt her tongue slip into your mouth.
"no. you need to go soon! it's almost 3." you giggled, squeezing your girlfriends cheeks before unwrapping her arms from around you and sitting up.
"but it's a pre match tradition that you make out with me, so..." alessia grinned, hands clawing needily at her spare jersey which hung off your smaller frame, attempting to pull you back down.
"which is why we've already made out, twice now to be exact. you need to go! baby i'm not being picked on by your teammates as the reason you're late for warm ups, again." you rolled your eyes, grabbing the girls wandering hands as they slipped up the inside of your shirt, nails scratching gently against your bare skin.
"they know full well if they tried to pick on you they'd have me to deal with." alessia rolled her eyes, hands coming to rest on your bare thighs sat either side of her. "ooo so scary." you mocked with a teasing grin placing your own hands on her cheeks, thumbs softly caressing her jaw as you leant down and stole another quick kiss before rolling off of her.
"go!" you pointed sternly towards your door, alessia standing to her feet with an over dramatic groan. "fine!"
"i'll see you out there superstar." you shared a tight hug before you opened your door, the excited chatter of your peers filling the room. "i'll be the one in blue holding the trophy." alessia grinned, grabbing your waist to pull you in for one final kiss.
"now there's that russo confidence, go heels!"
her first championship.
"come on, one last push go heels!" you screamed at the top of your lungs, voice raw and practically gone after how tense the game had been, your friends echoing the same chant beside you as the whistle finally blew, the crowd erupting as your girlfriend sprinted to join the team pile on in the middle of the field. 
she did it, she'd won her first american junior college championship.
"let's fucking go number nineteen!" you screamed with pride as alessia's name was called, the girl stepping up to receive her hat and medal at the presentation. cupping your hands over your mouth and hollering proudly, alessia's brothers who sat the row in front of you joined in, her parents turning around to shoot you elated grins.
you chatted away happily with your friends about the game as you waited for alessia to have her moment with her team and the trophy, taking dozens of photos before making her way over to her family who stood to the side, tears filling their eyes as hugs and congratulations were shared.
"i think this mean's you've reached ultimate wag status now." your best friend teased, bumping her shoulder with yours as you made your way down the stadium steps and onto the pitch, rolling your eyes at the comment.
you promised to catch up with them later as your friends headed off to congratulate the rest of the team, alessia making the same promise to her family before the two of you made a beeline for one another.
"champions!" you cheered loudly as the blonde picked you up with ease, your legs wrapping around her waist as the two of you tightly clung onto one another, alessia twirling you around a couple times before placing you back on the ground.
"i'm so proud of you." you smiled sincerely, tugging her into a short but searing kiss, pulling away all too quickly for your girlfriends liking, though in such a public setting you hardly wanted her parents to see you with their daughters tongue shoved down your throat.
"you know i never thought i was into girls with backwards hats, but this is doing it for me." you nodded, gesturing playfully to the championship snap back adorning your girlfriends head. "oh really? good to know." alessia smirked pulling you in for another kiss, unable to wipe the grin off of her face at the feeling of sheer euphoria currently pumping through her veins.
her words from before had come true, here she could be seen in blue, holding the trophy. only the piece of silverware from the game sat in the hands of her coach who stood on the other side of the field. unbeknownst to you, the trophy in her hands was you, the blonde firmly determined never to let that change.
"i love you." alessia blurted out suddenly, the three words having been dancing on the tip of her tongue for a few weeks now, too scared to let them slip at the wrong time and scare you away. "i love you." you immediately echoed back with a laugh, the complete lack of doubt in your response only further fueling alessia's body with unbridled joy.
it was plain to be seen that you both had fallen sweetly, irreversibly and to some nauseatingly head over heels in love with one another. 
771 notes · View notes
paddockletters · 1 year
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I'm sick of it | jude bellingham
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request: yes / can you write one about bellingham where they argue all the time and she’s so exhausted about that so she cries and he confort her please? summary: You and Jude are tired of arguing all the time, but he realises he's been a jerk so he tries to sort things out with you. pairing: jude bellingham x reader warnings: angst, fluff words count: 1.4 k author's note: kinda short but i hope you like it! just to let you know again, english is not my first language so pardon me if there are mistakes —feel free to tell me—
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The last few weeks have been rough for you, Jude, and indeed for your relationship.
It hasn't been the best because of some small or silly reasons —for you it’s not that silly, but for Jude it is— you end up fighting, even over things that aren't even worth fighting about.
One of those many arguments was over the fact that he was hanging out lately with his friends and it wasn't that it annoyed you at first because of course, he has every right to do so, but you barely saw him at night when he came home just for dinner or to sleep.
You were upset because he wasn't able to spend time with you; he was always out.
"Jude, you're never here, you never spend time with me. I don't even know when you're going out," you told him in annoyance. You were tired of the same old thing.
"Damn, you are so needy. I just want some time off..."
"I can't believe it, Jude. I'm not asking you to be with me all the time; I'm just asking us to spend time together like we used to. Watch movies, go out to dinner, but clearly I don't see that you're interested. That's it, honestly, I'm sick of it."
“Yeah, and so I am, and I think I want to stay away from you.”
“Oh, so now you don't want me around anymore?”
"Come on, I didn't say that."
"Jude, you just said that. You know I love you, I left my family, I left my friends, I left college to come here with you. You don't know how lonely I feel sometimes, I try to distract myself with online classes, even going out with the girls but I also want to be with you, I want us to go back to the way we used to be," you say with tears.
"I didn't force you to come here." You couldn't believe what he had said; it was hurting you to hear him say that.
"You know what? Forget it, I don't want to argue anymore and say something I didn't mean and might regret it," you said as you walked out of your room and into the living room.
This fight all led to the silent treatment, which has been the worst thing and a nightmare for both of you because you are both so proud. But certainly, you had reason to be angry after everything Jude said to you. You know that you can't escape conflict and that there is no such thing as a perfect relationship. However, you and Jude were an imperfect couple that fit together perfectly; he treats you great, and you know that from time to time, you might disagree on some things, but it never escalated to a major level, you always fixed it very quickly.
You used to wait a few days to calm down and talk about the problem so that you could try to figure out what the matter was and how you could fix it. Despite the fight, Jude still tucks you in bed when you sleep, and you cook breakfast in the morning for both of you. Maybe you don't show your love with words but with actions.
From Jude's point of view, it had been hard for him to understand that somehow you were right and he was acting selfishly. While he hadn't spoken to you, it was to give you time because he knows you needed it after that big fight you had. And he is also certainly tired of fighting with you, so this time he wanted to fix things, fix what he said and knew he shouldn't have acted; he was sorry because yes, you had left many things in your country to follow him because he had asked you to, he was sure that he wanted and, in fact, he wants to continue enjoying achievements and defeats with you by his side.
Days after the fight, Jude arrived at your shared flat after training ready to fix the situation because he doesn't want to lose you. As he walks in, the first thing he does is head to the living room to see if you were there like you usually are watching a TV show or even a movie, however, you're not there which makes him frown.
He heads to the small office thinking maybe you're in some online class but no, you're not there either. He quickly goes to the door of your room and he hears you sobbing, so he enters the room to find you under the blanket and he could see your body moving because of your crying.
When you heard that he had entered the room, you tried to stop crying, but you were still sobbing a little.
"Baby..." you heard Jude coming closer.
"Hey, are you okay? Please don't cry, I don't like seeing or hearing you cry." Those words instead of calming you down, made you cry even more.
"Go away." You said between cries and hiding more under the blanket.
""Baby, please, let's talk. I want us to work out whatever it is that's going on with us." You felt the mattress sink next to you.
Jude seeing that you weren't responding, decided to start talking.
"Well, I apologize for how I have been acting and everything I said, because I really understand that I acted like a dick to you when you didn't deserve it after everything you have done for me, and I want you to know that I am very grateful to you. I think sometimes a discussion is necessary to understand each other and to make sure that we are communicating well, that we are expressing how we feel, and I didn't take that into account in our last discussion, and I'm sorry for that.
"I want us to understand each other, because that's what it's all about; we are in a relationship where we have to grow and learn. And I know that relationships are not easy, but it needs some work on both sides, so I assure you that I will do my best."
By that time, you had stopped crying.
"Jude... I'm sorry too, because I know we've been arguing about silly things that I sometimes start, but I'm really hurt by what you said, but I want to fix this too. We should have the confidence to say what bothers us or what we disagree with without fighting. Like you said, that's what a relationship is all about: teamwork.
We have to do everything we can so that this argument doesn't happen again and of course, fix and talk about what's wrong, just like you, I will also do my part to avoid having fights. I love you and I missed you baby," you told him while hugging him and hiding your face in his neck, you immediately smelled his perfume which calmed you down, it gave you peace.
"I love you too," he kissed you on the head and you felt him smile. "What do you say tonight we go out to dinner at that restaurant you love so much?"
"When we get home we can watch a movie," you murmured into his neck.
"Or maybe something else to make up, you know," he told you as he smiled cheekily.
"Judeeee." You gave him a little punch on his abdomen.
"Babe, we have to recover lost time because you don't know how much I missed you, not kissing you, not hugging you, not touching you and I think there's no better way to recover lost time than making love," he said to you as he turned you around so he was on top of you and started kissing your neck.
"Jude..." You said as you moaned softly.
"I love you baby, you really are the best thing that ever happened to me," he said as he looked into your eyes.
"You made me go from emotional to horny, I hate you," you told him as you pouted.
"You know you love me, but well, you better take a shower, we have a dinner." With that you got up to head to the bathroom and felt a slap.
"Bellingham, stop or I'll get mad again."
"Don't act like you don't like it, I know you missed it just as much as I missed you and your ass," he said as he laughed and you closed your door to your bathroom.
He was impossible, but you loved him like that and you were happy you could fix things.
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hxney-lemcn · 3 months
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Heart to Heart — Edgar Allan Poe x gn! reader
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summary: reader meets Ranpo's rival at Kyouka's welcome party, and seems to keep running into him. What happens when they both realize their feelings?
tw: mentions of suicide (Dazai smh), Poe thinks reader is pretty/beautiful (I do think these terms are gender neutral), mentions of death (?) (they're on a murder case with Ranpo)
a/n: I LOVE HIM! But it's so weird to write for Edgar Allan Poe as I had a unit about him for one of my English classes (this is why I mainly refer to him as Poe 💀).
wc: 3.7k
Master List
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Your eyes trailed over to the mysterious man who sat where the clients normally sat. You had seen Ranpo greet him before swiftly leaving. You also noticed the mischievous gleam in his green eyes as he passed you by. The man, whose brown hair had a purple tint under the office lights, had been left sitting there with his adorable pet raccoon for over thirty minutes. You weren’t the most extroverted person, but even you felt a slight tug to include him in the party that was currently being held. 
You dearly hoped he liked cake as you approached the awkward man with two plates with a slice of cake on each. You had briefly recalled Yosano speaking of encountering a Guild member who met this man's descriptions. He had the power to entrap others in his novels and seemed obsessed with Ranpo. She had spoken of him comically, brushing him off as someone who wasn’t a threat towards anyone, and seeing him now you couldn’t help but agree. Although for the life of you, you couldn’t remember his name (or if Yosano had even mentioned it).
“Uhm, hello,” You greeted him. You couldn’t see his eyes through his bangs, but you were still able to see the comical surprise that shifted over his features. His face flushed a bright pink as his head shifted to look anywhere but you. “Do you mind if I sit with you?” You pointed towards the seat across from him. His shoulders scrunched up, causing his raccoon to fuss and jump down. 
He began to stammer over his words, mumbling things you couldn’t make out for the life of you. Placing his hands over his face, he stopped trying to speak and shakily nodded his head. Against your better judgment, you found yourself endeared to him already. You found his fashion choices worked for his aesthetic well, and his bangs covering his face seemed less like an edgy choice, and more of wanting to be hidden from the world. His shy personality and pet raccoon had also made him easier to adore. 
Sitting down, you placed the plate on the table in front of him, “I hope you like cake, if not, there’s tons of other snacks.”
“Th-thank you,” He stuttered out, picking up the plate with a reverence you didn’t understand.
That was how you met Edgar Allan Poe. You found yourself enjoying spending time with him, asking him about his pet to find a connection. It was weird, where you normally had trouble keeping a conversation with someone, it felt easier with him. You suspected that it had something to do with the fact that he was the one struggling in this situation. Conversation flowed easily, as your topic had switched from pets to mystery/horror novels. You both had more in common than you thought, and he even offered you a novel to read (that alone took up most of his courage…and you hinted that you’d like to read one).
“The Tell-Tale Heart,” You repeated. “Sounds interesting.” It seemed like any form of praise, even the tiniest, had caused Poe to short circuit. You had just said that the title of his work sounded interesting and he felt his heart pound faster. He was quickly forgetting why he was here in the first place, enraptured by your attention. The first time in years, he felt like beating Ranpo had taken the back seat, as he now wanted your approval as well.
“Wuuaaa~” Loud coos had grabbed both of your attention. Kyouka was currently holding Karl, the other members crowding around her to also see the raccoon. Poe ran over, hiding behind the other side of the table, trying to coax Karl away. A bright grin took over your features at the display before you. Joining Poe by his side, you patted his shoulder, hoping to comfort him a little. After all, Karl seemed to be loving the attention.
It didn’t take much time for you to see the recluse again. After the welcome party for Kyouka, you missed the chance to exchange numbers to stay in contact. Poe had managed to slip away in the chaos of cleaning, which left you feeling a bit downtrodden. But being Ranpo’s work partner had its perks…sometimes. To your utter surprise, Poe was at the end of your destination. Ranpo had snuck up behind the poor man, scaring the daylights out of him. Poe had become even more flustered when his eyes met yours. You waved at him in greeting, but he had quickly switched to asking why Ranpo was here.
That was how Poe ended up joining you both. You noticed how Ranpo gave time for Poe to figure it out. You had a hunch at the party. The fact that Ranpo had invited Poe, only to leave him, and now how he was trying to help Poe solve the crime. They were friends, or as friendly as it can get for a riverally. They almost seemed like siblings, bickering about who was better. 
“What do you think?” Poe asked, softly calling your name as he turned to you. You paused, you hadn’t paid a lick of attention to the current case, as usually Ranpo would solve it quickly while boasting about his ability. But now that Poe was here, and Ranpo was giving him a chance, he was looking to you for confirmation. 
For being someone in the Armed Detective Agency…you weren’t much of a detective. Yes you enjoyed reading mystery and horror novels in your free time, but you had joined the agency due to having nowhere else to go. Your ability had caused you too much trouble when you were young as you couldn’t fully control it. Even under Fukuzawa you still would have troubles. That’s why you were partnered with Ranpo, as your use of your ability was only used in emergencies. 
As much as you didn’t like to be chalked up to a mere guide, you found yourself more as a mediator since Ranpo would tend to upset others. Ranpo and you worked well together, your personalities complimenting each other well, and if someone took their anger (originally aimed at Ranpo) out on you, Ranpo would quickly shut them down and leave. 
You glanced at Ranpo, hoping he’d give you a slight hint at what was just said, but he only chuckled as he watched you both. With an anxious tone, you asked Poe if he could repeat himself. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to mind too much, repeating his process and conclusion with pink cheeks. If only you could see his eyes, the way the dark purple shined with hope of your approval. Perhaps an awed look would take over your features at his brilliance. 
“But then she would’ve had to be alive at 2pm, didn’t they say the time of death was 1:30pm?” You asked, genuinely confused. Scratching at his cheek, Poe gently informed you of how the suspect managed to kill her. It was quite convoluted and hard to imagine actually happening, but Ranpo clapped, approving of the conclusion (albeit a bit backhandedly).
“Wow,” You blinked in awe. “You both are so smart.”
“You should expect nothing less from the world's best detective!” Ranpo exclaimed, already leaving the scene. Suddenly, your praise for Ranpo evaporated. Turning to Poe, you hadn’t expected the blissful expression that painted his face. Karl rested around his shoulders, also seeming pleased. 
“C’mon,” You gestured to Poe to follow you with your head. “Let’s celebrate this together.” Poe had never felt this warm before, the way you smiled at him so sweetly made him feel warmer than the sun that was shining down on you both. He followed you (quite obediently might I add), feeling himself fluster further as you pulled him to walk beside you instead of slightly behind. You continued to point Ranpo where to go as he led the three of you to your usual cafe. 
You ate your favorite dessert, trying to ignore how flustered you currently felt. Ranpo was rambling about something or another, you were more focused on the raccoon that was currently nuzzled into your cheek (you knew Karl was begging but you could indulge yourself in his furry affection). Although you slowly felt your attention drift to the dark brown haired man that sat beside you. His gaze felt like it was piercing through you, and you weren’t sure how to react. Even though it set your nerves alight, you couldn’t help but enjoy the attention of the pretty author. 
Poe really didn’t mean to stare…I swear. He just couldn’t take his eyes off you. Every instance he’s with you, you seem to be more beautiful than he remembered. He wasn’t sure why, this was his second time talking with you after all, but each glance at you and his breath seemed to be stolen all over again. Not to mention how Karl seemed to favor you over him already. Poe understood, as from what he’s seen of you, you’ve been nothing but sweet. He’d nuzzle against you if he were a raccoon too. 
You had managed to get his number that time (more like Ranpo made a scene about why you both should switch numbers). Yet you found yourself hesitating. What would you even say? Then, like a light bulb went off, you remembered a certain promise Poe had made. Quickly, you texted him, asking him if he was free. You wanted to read that short story he mentioned the first time you met. 
Poe on the other hand, anxiously awaited a text from you. He couldn’t even focus on the novel that he was writing to challenge Ranpo. His eyes kept drifting to his phone, hoping it would buzz. Though the longer you took to text him, the more he started to doubt himself. Why would someone as amazing as you be interested in someone as lowly as him? You were Ranpo’s work partner, you already were surrounded by the best, what could he offer you? Poe slouched as these thoughts consumed him. You had shown him a light, and now he felt like he was drowning in his darkness once again. 
“Meow~” Poe’s phone buzzed. He perked up, quickly fumbling with the phone to open it. He had changed your ringtone and message notification sound the instant you mentioned you liked cats (this made him almost swoon as he also likes cats). As Poe read your text, he felt himself fluster (a feeling he was starting to get used to in your presence). Scrambling, Poe quickly made sure he had the story, a giddy yet nervous feeling consuming him. You were to both meet this weekend, and he was going to give you a copy of The Tell-Tale Heart at a cafe (similar to the one you went to before but a bit more quiet). 
You sat idly in a seat, watching the crowds pass by through the window. Tapping mindlessly at the table, you only looked up when a gentle bell chimed throughout the small shop. You smiled brightly as you waved Poe over. He shuffled over, taking a seat across from you, head bent down shyly. The waitress quickly swooped in, taking both your orders before leaving. An awkward silence fell over you both, and you realized that this was your first time together alone (in a sense). 
“This is for you,” Poe muttered, sliding a small book over the table. You lit up, picking up the small work and admiring the cover.
“Thank you so much!” You thanked, paging through the book briefly before closing it once more. You kept in mind the fact there was a personal note in the front, you’d have to read that later. 
“There’s a few other short stories as well,” Poe rambled slightly. “Th-they’re only a few pages in length so it wouldn’t have made much of a book alone.”
“You’re spoiling me,” You teased, placing the dark covered book aside (not wanting to accidentally ruin such a heartfelt gift). Both your food and drinks were placed in front of you not much longer. Poe felt his heart set aflame as you treated his work so gently, like it was something you genuinely cared for. If this counted as spoiling, then he’d write you anything you could ever ask for. 
It was that same night that Poe started to finally mull over his feelings for you. They had grown and had grown quickly. He felt himself shrink as he hunched over his current work in process, mind drifting towards you. There was no way he could’ve fallen for you (and so quickly). He’s a reclusive author trying to prove his worth, he had no time for silly distractions. (Who was he kidding, he was already dreaming up domestic moments he’d die to have with you). 
Ranpo found it funny at first. For the best detective, he was quite oblivious about others feelings (if he even cared), but even he couldn’t deny the fact that you both were head over heels for the other. It started to get grating over time as Poe was no longer focused on his rival. How Poe would blush as he looked towards you for approval, how he would stutter at your praise. It was so foolish, Ranpo really didn’t understand why Poe acted like such towards you. You were just another baby like the rest of the world, you just happened to be a baby that Ranpo cared about (not that he’d ever admit that).
Soon, Ranpo found your actions boring. The way you’d beat around your feelings, never admitting the obvious. It reminded Ranpo of how he felt before he met the President. How everyone was so sneaky about the truth, until the President made him realize people were really just that stupid. Ranpo couldn’t help but sigh at that thought, you both were terribly idiotic. 
“They’re just too caught up in their own feelings,” Dazai sighed, holding his head up in his hands. “How I envy Poe, to have someone to commit suicide with so readily.”
“I’m not commiting suicide with Poe,” You walked in with a deadpan. You weren’t sure why you or Poe were the topic of conversation between Dazai and Ranpo, but you didn’t like where it was going.
“Your tale of love is so-”
You swiftly slapped the back of Dazai’s head, warmth blooming on your cheeks. Were they saying you and Poe were romantically inclined? The thought alone made your entire body heat up (it would be hard to deny you felt affectionate towards the quiet man). 
“I’m sorry to disappoint but my love life is still as dull as ever,” You rolled your eyes, taking a bite of the snack you grabbed.
“It’s so obvious how you and Poe feel for each other,” Ranpo complained, a bored look on his face. “You’re too busy looking at your phone to witness my brilliance.” 
“Shut up!” You grumbled, face feeling like it was on fire. Were you really on your phone that much? 
“Ahhh~ There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Dazai teased, a carefree look on his face. “Love is an extraordinary feeling. It’s only a shame when you don’t act on it.”
“That’s why a double suicide-”
This time Kunikida threw a pen at Dazai’s head, cutting him off. Kunikida’s glasses shone under the light as he pushed them up. “Stop trying to get them to commit a double suicide and do your work.”
Dazai’s words rung in your head. Although the context was spurious, they had some truth. It would be a shame if you and Poe had feelings for each other and neither of you acted on it (Lord knows Poe wouldn’t). So you decided it would be up to you, and what better than to write a love letter? It would be easier than to say it in person. Which is how you ended up hunched over your desk at home, once again viciously erasing what you previously wrote.
You couldn’t put your feelings into words. You weren’t terrible at writing, as writing reports on the daily had made you try different styles to keep your brain from turning into mush. Yet at the moment all your knowledge seemed to flow right out of your mind. You didn’t want to come on too strong, but you didn’t want to undermine your feelings either. You felt frustrated as the paper crumpled at the amount of times you had written and erased it. 
After what felt like forever, you finally settled on what you had written. It was short and sweet, it got your feelings across and it couldn’t be misinterpreted as anything but romantic (you literally ask him on a date at the end). 
You gave it to him when you met up in your weekly hang out. You both had agreed to it, greatly enjoying each other's company. It wasn’t always out in public either, as sometimes you’d go to his place (or vice versa). You were going over to his place, as he wanted to continue to work on his novel (but he didn’t mind if you joined him). It was a perfect opportunity to not only reread his book, but to hide the letter somewhere he would find it. 
Everything was going well, Poe had made some tea (mainly for you but you forced him to join you). Karl was resting on your lap, making happy chattering noises as you gently pet him. The atmosphere was warm and comforting, you couldn’t ask for better company (don’t tell that to Ranpo). You didn’t notice anything was off until Karl jumped off your lap, making you pause your reading. A white envelope was clasped in Karl’s jaws and you felt your heart drop. It was too late, the raccoon was faster than he looked. 
Adrenaline rushed through your veins, fight or flight reactions kicking in. Of course yours was freeze (you couldn’t be more grateful for the President’s ability as otherwise yours would have activated by now). Poe paused in his writing, setting his fountain pen down as Karl sat on the desk, placing your love letter down in front of his owner. You silently glared at Karl, what a little traitor. Poe’s head rose slightly towards you, and you quickly shoved your nose back into the book. 
Poe hesitated, unsure of what to do. Was this yours? Had you sent Karl as a messenger or was Karl up to his mischievous schemes? Poe didn’t want to invade your privacy, but perhaps you wanted him to read whatever was inside? Was this even yours? Maybe it was something Poe had written and forgot about (he could be quite forgetful). Once again, Poe looked over at you, and once again he caught you watching him. He felt himself fluster, deep down enjoying your attention on him. 
You hadn’t said anything, and you clearly acknowledged he had the envelope…so perhaps it was okay for him to open it. Hesitantly, he grabbed his letter opener and cut through. With shaky hands, his mind came up with ideas of what could possibly be written (his favorite idea was a love letter). He felt himself get giddy at the thought of you pouring your feelings for him out on paper for him to read. His heart beat faster as his eyes took in the lovely letter you had written. He felt like he was going to burst into flames at the forwardness. You wanted to go on a date with him? His mind felt like it was melting, how could someone like you be interested in him? 
You, on the other hand, watched from the safety of your book. You bit your lip to suppress your smile at Poe’s flustered state. You don’t think you could ever get over how cute he was. It felt even better that it was you he was flustered over. He buried his face into his hands, Karl tilting his head curiously. You on the other hand were sitting on the edge of your seat. Would he respond? Would he ignore it? It felt awkward that you were in the room when he read it, it was supposed to be when you were away!
“I-is it true?” Poe asked weakly. You almost missed it if you weren’t so tuned in to his reaction.
“Yeah,” You nodded, finally closing your book and placing it in your lap. “Don’t…feel pressured to feel the same way. I understand if you don’t.” You weren’t sure where your doubt came from, even you couldn’t deny how Poe acted around you. Yet you still felt like he might not want something like that. 
Poe fidgeted with the papers that laid before him. Suddenly, he pulled a fresh sheet of paper, quickly writing something down. You watched in slight wonder mixed with anxiety. What was he doing? Was he really ignoring you? Or was he replying? You fidgeted with the pages of your book, saying nothing as Poe handed the paper to Karl. Without hesitation, Karl made his way back to you. Standing on his hind legs, Karl placed his paws on your knees, paper resting in his mouth. You grabbed the paper, eyes stumbling to read over the words.
Poe really had a way with words. You thought his short stories were amazing, yet it was hard to breathe as you read his feelings for you. Your skin warmed at the sweet words he wrote of you. Finally, at the end, he had agreed to the date. You tried to take in deep breaths to compose yourself, you felt as flustered as Poe looked. 
“Show off,” You pouted, unsure how to react otherwise. You tucked the paper into your book, you would be sure to keep that safe to reread again. It wasn’t fair how he managed to make you feel fluttery and turn your insides into mush. 
Poe shrunk into himself, covering his face with his hands once more. He was just so cute…you couldn’t let him get away with such a crime. Standing up, you stood on the opposite side of his desk, leaning over while dragging his hands away from his face. Poe began to stutter, fumbling over all his words as now he felt like his brain was not only mush, but draining out of his head. 
Finally, you placed a short kiss on his cheek, “I look forward to the date.”
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108 notes · View notes
limarieb · 8 months
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it's so sweet knowing that you love me (though we don't need to say it to each other)
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Pairing(s): Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader
Summary: You were born completely deaf, unable to fully learn how to read lips and constantly finding your hearing aids uncomfortable. On your venture for coffee, you find yourself overwhelmed (to the point of escape) when you are being spoken to by a (very pretty) woman who you cannot understand. Confusion and chaos arise on both ends. You return that same week, ready for the hateful confrontation that might take place. Fortunately, that "hateful" confrontation does not happen.
Warnings: none (a bit of angst, but then it's all fluff)
Word Count: 2.1k
Author's Note: this little collection of one-shots is still one of my favorite things to think about occasionally... perhaps i will consider making a third part if you give me some of your ideas on what the third part should consist of...
Main Masterlist | ao3 | Wattpad
Click Here for Part 2 to the 'Sweet' One-Shot Collection
...
From an early age, you realized that you were different from other people. When you would go to various places with your parents, random strangers always tried to talk to you. You couldn’t hear them, of course, considering the fact that you were born entirely deaf; adults and children alike never seem to understand that, though, and continued their quests of trying to get you to talk with your mouth rather than your hands.
Due to your innate inability to hear, you grew up learning sign language as your primary language. It wasn’t until you were four years old when you were lost in the supermarket, frantically trying to find your parents, that you realized the majority of people do not comprehend your language. Growing up in upstate New York, there weren’t exactly many people like you. There were not many people that felt ostracized by their community for something beyond their control, nor were there many individuals jumping at the opportunity to make accommodations for situations like yours. Thus, the most you were able to do in terms of communication was writing and reading in English and ‘speaking’ in sign language. Unlike some other people who were deaf, you were never able to learn how to read others’ lips, which frustrated you to no end.
And, honestly? It sucked. It was a lonely experience, and you spent many nights of your childhood (and adulthood) crying to your parents about it. It broke their hearts seeing their child experiencing such a cumbersome set of emotions and experiences that most do not even witness in a lifetime, and you knew they carried a pang of guilt about it all. You wish they didn’t, though, because you know it’s not their fault and that they have been trying their best to help you thrive despite your challenges. 
It wasn’t all bad, darkness, and negativity. In fact, there are many moments where you found your deafness as a sort of power or unique ability (instead of an inability). It allowed you to sense things differently. Your favorite way to decompress was feeling certain textures, especially the yarn blanket your mother made years ago, and putting on loud music so the vibrations would flow through the medium of the speakers and into your body via your fingers or your feet. Something about it all was therapeutic.
You received a pair of hearing aids as a child, but you did not necessarily prefer them. In circumstances where there were a lot of people in a given room, the sensations would become quite painful and confusing for your brain to untangle and compute all at once. Ergo, you only really use them on the occasion where you know prior that there were gonna be few people and low amounts of background noise, like when you are working one-on-one with a client.
Given that you were going to the local coffee place, you elected to leave hearing aids at home. You use your phone to place a mobile order, effectively removing the barrier of needing to talk to an employee to order. You walked into the shop and began your path towards the pick-up area. Reaching and sorting through the other orders, you eventually come to the realization that yours is not there. You figured that the staff was simply behind on crafting the drinks, so you wait for a few minutes.
As you anxiously played with your fingers, one of the employees approaches you. She was slightly taller than you, but she was also undeniably beautiful. Her long auburn hair was tied back, held in place by a mere tie. You caught a brief glance of her eyes, quickly noticing how green they were. In the presence of such a pretty lady, your anxiety began to rise. She gave a shy smile and began moving her lips to form words. Due to your overly anxious state and inability to read her lips, you rapidly became overwhelmed. You look behind her to see her coworkers behind the counter snickering at you two. Immediately, you assumed they were laughing solely at you, talking about how the only reasonable explanation for your lack of response was stupidity beyond any repair. 
So, you turned around and walked out of the door. You felt so embarrassed , more than you have ever felt since high school. All you wanted to do was go home and decompress.
Wanda stood there in a state of shock. One second, she was there trying to explain to you how she couldn’t make your drink because they were out of oat milk; the next, you were gone.
Did I say something wrong? Wanda thought to herself as she watched you escape her workplace.
Hanging her head in shame, she retreated to behind the counter where her coworkers, Bucky and Sam, were still laughing at her failed attempt to have a conversation with you. The brunette has watched you for a while from afar; she knew your favorite drink like the back of her hand, and she always tried to make sure your favorite spot in the corner of the café was kept neat and tidy for you. In her eyes, you were the most beautiful creature to walk on this planet. She would give up anything to know you as something more than just a customer.
Wanda let out a sigh of frustration mixed with sadness, leaning against the counter with her head in her hands. She finally broke the monotony of the undying laughter, “Would the two of you stop laughing? It’s not funny. Oh my god, that was so embarrassing.”
“Cheer up, little witch,” Bucky started. “There are more fish in the sea.”
“I don’t want other fish, though. I want her,” she tried to reason. “She’s so pretty, Bucky. And, after months, I finally worked up the courage to talk to her, and she just walked away from me.”
The latter part made Sam raise an eyebrow, “What do you mean she just walked away from you? Did you say something that could’ve upset her?”
“I don’t think so,” Wanda tried to think back. “I was just starting to explain how we were out of oat milk, so I couldn’t make her drink. But, before I could even give her some alternative choices, she just… left.”
Sam let out a hum, unsure of what exactly to reply. The three employees went back to work, yet Wanda was definitely not thinking about her encounter with you while making the various orders.
A few days had passed since the incident. Even though you vowed never to return to the coffee place (your favorite coffee joint), a conversation with your mother left you feeling more empowered and confident about it all. Her facial expressions and rapid hand motions displaying her anger at the workers forced a smile out of you. 
Thus, you decided that you were going to return to the coffee place the next morning. You repeated the same mobile order but decided to keep your phone in hand in case you needed to type something mean and vulgar at the employees who left you feeling humiliated the other day.
You grasp the handle and pull the door forward, granting yourself entry into the once comforting setting.
With a fleeting glance to the counter, your eyes briefly meet hers. It was too late to turn back now, so you cautiously walked to the familiar pick-up area. However, your drink seems to be missing again today. Great.
You look up to see the same woman from before warily approaching you, and it takes everything you have in your body to not flee the scene. Similar to the previous time she walked up to you, the girl began to speak again. She did not get very far before you opened the notes app on your phone and started to furiously type. By the expression on her face, you could tell she was surprised at the sudden action but waited for you to stop typing. 
After a minute passed, you finally turned the phone to show your message to the woman:
Hi, there. I’m deaf, and I don’t have hearing aids on at this moment. Anything that you’ve said, I did not hear… at all. 
You watched with patience as the other girl slowly and carefully skimmed the message. Her head tilted and her mouth opened to form an O-like shape, and you could pinpoint this moment with exact accuracy as the moment she realized that you were not (and were never) purposefully ignoring her — you couldn’t hear her; that’s why you must have left suddenly.
She shyly smiled and nodded towards your phone. With a quirked eyebrow, you offer it to her. She happily takes it from you to begin typing a message of her own:
Hi! I’m so sorry I didn’t realize before… I’m sure it must’ve been frustrating to just have someone talking AT you rather than WITH you. Is that why you left suddenly last time?
You weren’t really sure why you were surprised by her message, specifically the last part. Did she remember? After thinking for a few minutes, you form a reply:
Yeah, I guess… I was just very overwhelmed, and I saw some of the others laughing. I just felt bad, idk. So, I left.
You definitely did not expect the frown that appeared on her face when you walked in there today. She pointed to the phone, and you gave it to her once more. 
I’m sorry… if it makes you feel any better, they weren’t laughing at you or anything. Actually, they were laughing at me, not you.
As you read the new message, your face visibly contorted into confusion and disbelief.
What do you mean?
With the phone in her hands again, she typed: 
I’ve been wanting to talk to you for months, Y/N. The last time you were here, I finally tried to talk to you - at least about how we were out of oat milk for your drink. I guess they found you walking away without saying anything VERY comical. 
It was your turn to be in a complete and utter state of shock.
Oh… Wait, how do you know my name? 
She wrote her reply fairly quick: 
Who do you think makes your drink every time? ;)
As she passes the phone back to you, she personifies the wink in real life. Immediately, you feel the blood rush to your cheeks.
Well, I feel like it’s fair to ask for your name now - an 'eye for an eye’ type of thing.
She subconsciously bites her bottom lip as she slid the phone over with her reply:
Wanda. Wanda Maximoff.
Something about her name and connecting it to her made you feel… light. 
Well, Wanda, I’m here talking to you now, aren’t I? Why did you want to talk to me before? Am I that intimating?
It was her turn to fall victim to blushing, reading your questions regarding her apprehension of talking to you.
Intimidating? No, not really. Really pretty, though? Can neither confirm nor deny.
You released a small, quiet chuckle at her compliment; Wanda, on the other hand, has to remember for a second how to breathe because she heard you for the first time. She loved it, and she only wants to hear more. 
Give me your phone?
You sit there in confusion but comply with her unspoken request nonetheless. You give you her unlocked phone again, except you notice there’s no new message in your notes app conversation. You raise your eyebrow, showing you don’t really understand what just happened. Wanda, however, just winks at you again and slowly returns to her spot behind the counter. 
You never found out what she did at that moment on your phone until you receive a text a few minutes later from a foreign contact labeled “Wanda ;)”:
Wanda ;)  [9:47 AM]
Hey, sorry to cut our convo short - I had to help the customers. Meet me for dinner after work? 6 pm? :)
How could you say no to a request from her? You look up from your phone to see her biting her lip, hiding a smile as she makes drinks for other people. You look back down at your own device to respond:
You [9:48 AM]
I’ll be there. :)
You don’t remember being treated with such care and understanding before, especially by who was merely a stranger moments ago and has seemingly little experience with a person who is deaf. Wanda was different, though — a good different. She initiated a feeling of happiness and freedom within you that had not been experienced prior to that day. Most people did not consider trying to help you or finding different ways to talk to you, but Wanda did; moreover, she did so because she wanted to — she wanted to actually know you. 
It was increasingly evident that you were beyond infatuated with her. The night went so well, in fact, that you changed her contact from “Wanda ;)” to “Wanda <3” after you met her for your date that same evening.
End.
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