#OK. so first of all i HAVE to start drawing sandy more often i love drawing him iil looove drawing him

[potatobugz]

i have a collection of silly little guys to share with you all

[bignostalgias]

just thinking about Jack learning Norse the long way without magic after dimension/time traveling to Berk. Rambling nonsense under cut

Ok ok as learning a language takes time and dedication, Jack mostly communicates non-verbally at first and slowly incorporates Norse into his vocabulary. He sporadically gets lessons from the Dragon Riders, but it’s slow-going as there’s always external shenanigans to resolve, and to be honest most of them are poor language teachers (with the exception of Fishlegs, who is very kind to make Jack flashcards to study with). He also visits with Gothi, as she sympathizes with his struggle to be understood, and he picks up on her symbols as they become friends. He thinks of Sandy and feels a pang of homesickness.

Both Jack and Hiccup are very expressive characters who often use exaggerated gestures and expressions to prove a point, so their friendship consists of a lot of pointed looks and unabashed flailing. Rolling their eyes. Goofy smiles. Smiles with Mischievous Intent. Sarcastic deadpans. Reading the tone of each others’ voices. As they become more comfortable with each other (and Jack becomes more comfortable being visible and tangible) this includes Jack holding Hiccup’s hand to lead him somewhere, poking each other to invoke a reaction, Hiccup steering Jack by his shoulders away from trouble, falling asleep haphazardly on top of each other while attempting to study. To an onlooker their conversations are madness.

Hiccup learns English as well as a fair trade. So he can know Jack a little better. So Jack isn’t alone in this. Similar to OTNWAS (fic of all time), he starts using English expressions and slang that Jack introduces him to (“Cool,” he says, drawing out the vowels. Jack nods at him rapidly. He exclaims something incomprehensible to Hiccup - but undoubtedly encouraging from the way his eyes are crinkling at the corners - before repeating, “cool beans,” and gives a double thumbs up. Flashbright smile. “Cool beans,” Hiccup says, still with only a fuzzy understanding of what it means).

Hiccup also spends a lot of time drawing with Jack, as a tool to aid communication and make new flashcards, but more often than not it devolves into stupid Pictionary doodles as Hiccup struggles to interpret Jack’s drawings. (“Uh, is that…. Stormfly?” Hiccup asks, and Jack pulls a face that is both distraught and amused. “So not - oh! That’s an axe! You’re drawing Astrid! Oh gods. I have to show her this, oh gods.” Something about the maniacal glee in Hiccup’s tone must have alerted Jack to his intent, as he received a sharp poke under his ribs as a reply, making him wheeze. In English, Jack says, “whatever you’re thinking, don’t,” and Hiccup, recognizing the last word, bursts into giggles.)

Jack is dedicated to making Hiccup laugh, of course. Jack is very willing to make himself the fool to do so. Toothless is happy to help.

Soon Jack can string Norse sentences together skillfully, drop some vibrant curses, and sing a few ballads as well (the ballads he picked up even before he fully understood them). And because Hijack has taken over my one braincell, Jack tells Hiccup he loves him in Norse after an eternity of fumbling to figure out the right words.

(antique fic trope alert, 5 times Jack tried to tell Hiccup he loved him in Norse +1 time he got it right. someone take me out to a dennys parking lot and break my kneecaps)

[remusmainhoe]

sirius x reader

warning:smut, language.

not sure what it is, I wanna say friends, to lovers, but really I just got carried away. I hope you love it, I had fun writing it.

I was laying on the grass, near the black lake. The sun shined on the water, the warm breeze lifting the pages of my book, my mother had gotten me about medicine since she worked at st. Mungos, but I always preferred the greek mythology books my dad had left me. I saw him from a distance, sitting down on the grass, sheltered by the shade of a tree, his back relaxed against the bark. Two other girls near him were giggling at each other, stealing glances of him every now and then, their cheeks flushed with anticipation for his attention. Even from a distance, I could make out his face, unbothered by the girls, his dark, smooth hair dancing in front of his face every now and then. His eyes remained closed, his mouth carved into that faint grin he wore so much. James was next to him, his mouth moving, grasping the snitch before it got too close to freedom, and letting it go once more. Seeing how James ran a hand through his jet black hair, careful enough to leave it perfectly messy. Remus crouched down on the floor, eyes hungrily reading every word of the paper in front of him. A strand of his sandy brown hair on his face gone ignored, his hands grasping his quill, focused. Peter was watching James, as his hands clasp around the snitch for the 100th time.

I couldn’t help catching a glimpse of the boy, feeling like the other girls whose eyes also felt what I could only describe as a magnetic pull toward him. To me, he felt like a flame, you could appreciate it, and regard it as precious, but you know better than to get too close. I try to peel my eyes off him, staring back at the book in my lap. When my eyes tired of the words on the page that no longer meant anything, I looked up again only to find those piercing eyes staring back. The corner of his mouth lifting, flashing his teeth, his calculating eyes refusing to let me go. I tear away from him, refusing to give in. I stand up, picking up my things, and make my way back to the Gryffindor tower, rushing up the stairs to my dormitory. I laid in bed, refusing to acknowledge the way he made me feel. The butterflies that swarmed through my body, the warm feeling in my chest, because no one can have this much control over me. Falling asleep that night, his eyes being the last thought before I fall asleep, and my first thought when I wake up.

Waking up slowly, getting out of bed, taking the morning air deeply, letting it feel my lungs, and hoping it could erase that feeling he made me feel. The great hall filled with the first light of the day, my lids heavy as I sit down at the Gryffindor table. The table slowly filling up with students fueling up for the days' classes. I ate my breakfast in silence, lightly listening to the words the other girls were gossiping to me. When I felt those piercing eyes on me again, not wanting to believe my own senses, I ignored them. Lessons that day went by blandly and slowly, I plopped down on my chair in the astronomy tower at midnight. Opening my book to get ready for the lesson, I felt someone sit down next to me, I glanced quickly to see who it was.

“I hope this seat wasn’t being saved for someone else,” he says, clearly noticing the confusion on my face.

“Um, no, it's ok” I sputter out, he flashed another smile in response, in turn making those damn butterflies return, I fight the slight heat in my cheeks.

Before anything else can happen, the professor calls things into order, starting the lesson for the day. Any of the tiredness that I felt, fluttered away. the professor assigned us to fill a star chart of the different constellations with a partner.

“Well, what do you say, partner?” He said turning his body to my attention, certainty in his voice.

I had known him enough to know the charade he performed with other girls, making them stutter slightly, making their cheeks hurt with the smile he would cause. I was certainly not one to judge, for who could blame them? The way that he moved in a way that felt effortlessly yet still carried some precision, the way his words came out of his mouth like honey. The most frustrating thing that made it difficult to forgive him for the effect he had, was that he knew he was goddamn gorgeous, and he liked to see the effect he could have.

“I say, I'm tired, and I wanna get this over with,” I said, surprising myself.

His eyes flickered with something, his shitfaced grin refusing to leave. He turned to his telescope and started to get to work. His hand fidgeting with his quill, his other hand gracing the telescope. I turned my head back to my telescope, observing Perseus, Studying the made-up lines I imagined connecting the stars, picturing Perseus ��the hero’ with his sword and shield. I started plotting the dots on the chart, his hand hovering on the paper before getting to work on another part of the sky. I then saw Canis Major, which wasn’t that hard to find due to the brightest star ‘Sirius’. Remembering the books I read on the stories and mythology of the stars. Picturing Laelaps the dog that always caught whatever it hunted. sent to hunt the Teumessian fox, a fox that could never be caught. Realizing that they were doomed to be the hunter and the hunted for eternity, Zeus turned them both to stone then placed them in the sky as the constellations Canis Major (Laelaps) and Canis Minor (the Teumessian fox). The irony, of course, is that they continue the chase in an eternal hunt, with Canis Minor rising in the winter skies about an hour before Canis Major, I couldn’t help but smile.

“Did you find a man on the moon or something?” Sirius’s voice pulling me back to the astronomy tower.

“Hmm?”

“You’re smiling at the stars” he pointed out, his eyes full of intrigue.

“Oh, it's nothing, I just like the constellations and the myths and stories they carry,” I explain focusing once more and filling out the star chart we were almost finished with.

“Like what?” He asked leaning closer as if it were a deep secret only he was to hear.

“Well… I like the pegasus,” I said drawing it on the star chart “The winged horse, in Greek mythology, used by Zeus to carry thunder and lightning,” I said not being able to hide an amused smile.

“ the stories become a bit tangled though, there are different stories about each of them…” I continued “like the birth of Orion, one story tells how his father was a poor shepherd called Hyrieus. Once, Zeus, Hermes, and Poseidon stopped by Hyrieus’ house. Hyrieus was so generous with his guests that he killed the only animal he had - an ox. Hyrieus was not aware that his guests were gods. The gods wanted to reward Hyrieus’ generosity by granting him a wish. Hyrieus’ biggest desire was to have a child. The gods told him to bury the hide of the bull he had sacrificed to them and to pee on it. After nine months, a boy was born in that place. The child became a very handsome and strong man. He became a very good hunter and threatened to kill all of the wild animals of the world, however, Gaia the mother of all animals was not pleased with his intention. Gaia set a giant scorpion on Orion, who soon realized that’s strength and sword were useless against the mighty Scorpio. Orion tried to escape, but was stung and placed in the stars along with the Scorpio set to chase him forever as a reminder from Gaia to protect the environment.” I stopped talking, realizing that who I had been ranting to. Instead of looking up to see a look of boredom, and annoyance that I was expecting to see, I was met with those eyes, laser-focused on me, his body slightly leaned in my direction.

“I told you, it's nothing, just random shit I think about” I dismiss it trying to not get sucked into his gaze.

“Is that we read so often outside near the lake?” He asked, not looking away from me.

“Among other things” I respond, before can think about it, I say “why do you care?”

He looked at me for a moment, “I don't” he said, and leaned back in his chair for a few minutes staring at the sky. Our star sheet laid out completed, and minutes to spare.

“But let's say I do,” he said leaning back toward me swiftly, his scent gracing my nose, my lungs filling lightly with cologne, leather, and cigarettes.

“Ok, humor me.” I say “what could Mr. popularity possibly have to care about? Apart from his hair”, I say, this time keeping eye contact.

“What do you have against my hair?” He said in the mocked offense.

“Nothing” I answer with slight sarcasm, slightly holding my hands up in defense.

I don't know what made me feel the need to not let him get to me. Hogwarts, although a big castle, I would always see how the girls would spoil him with love, and attention. I’ve read enough books, I don't want to be the “I'm not like other girls” bullshit, but I'm not gonna let him play his little game of cat and mouse.

He paused for a moment before speaking again, “well I just think that any book that can keep you from stealing glances at me, must be one hell of a book”

“Well, you think mighty big of yourself” I choke out a laugh, “you know, for a second there you had me,” I say without missing a beat.

“Is that so?” He countered.

Before I can say more, the lesson ends, I grab my things not trusting myself to say more. Getting to my dorm room, my head infected with him. His grin plastered on his face, with those eyes that see right through anyone. I'm not angry with what he said, it's what he made me feel that terrified me.

The next day, I sat at the Gryffindor table having breakfast, when I felt someone sit next to me. I turned and saw him sitting there, a bit further from his groupie.

“What are you doing over here,” I asked out of pure reflex.

“It is a free country” he responded as he served his breakfast.

“Yeah… sorry” he hadn’t done anything wrong, and it wasn’t my business, even if it was weird to see his hip separated from James. We ate in silence and headed to our first class, transfiguration, the moment I took my seat, he plopped down next to me.

“Ok, what’s your game here?” I ask him, frustrated that I even have to fight back a grin playing at the corner of my mouth. If he noticed, he didn’t say so.

“Nothing,” he said innocently. The class began, and we were assigned to transform bunnies into slippers. I managed to make some hoping slippers, with a tail at the back, Sirius chuckled at them.

“Don't judge them” I said, not even realizing I was smiling.

“I'm sorry,” he says, poorly hiding his amusement.

“Why don't you try it then” I challenge looking at his bunny.

“Ok, fine” he shrugged, with a swish of his wand, his bunny turned into a pair of slippers you would probably only find at a high-end store. “I could give you a lesson if you want” he teased.

“You know, one day you’re going to need slippers that jump,” I said catching my slippers, and transforming them back into the fluffy bunny.

The classes after that, he sat next to me, at first I thought he would come back to his senses and go back to his group, but after 2 weeks of laughing at his jokes in class, how he would pull a little prank, how he would know how to get me to start ranting about something, I didn’t think twice about it. He then started to sit with me in the library, and distract me from doing work. Later on, he and I would go out near the black lake where I once sat alone, I read to him the stories I held so deep to my heart. He would grasp every word of it.

It was inevitable, but after a while, I started to hang out with the others too. Remus and I would revise together, James would pull me into small pranks, and I would help Peter understand some of the charms he couldn’t do.

I tried not to think about the things I would feel when I saw Sirius. How I wanted to mess up his hair just a little bit because it was too perfect. How his laughter gave me a feeling of happiness that spread to my mouth that made me smile and laugh like an idiot. How I would think about the way that his muscles moved when he practiced quidditch with James, how his face looked chiseled by the gods.

I was back in the Gryffindor common room, trying to finish as much work as I could before I realized that the common room was empty, looking up at the clock to see the hands read 3:30 in the morning. I was about to gather my things to head to my dorm and call it a night when I heard the door to the common room open. Turning around, I didn’t see anyone there, yet the door started to close on its own, the fat lady fast asleep. Before I can even process it, I hear a thump near the fireplace, and all of the sudden see Sirius on the floor, a cloak next to him. Before I can even question it, I see the scarlet red that trails on his white shirt, I felt my eyes open wide as I rush to him, my legs forming a mind of their own.

“Sirius?”

He looks up at me, “y/n.. I-“ he's cut off with a hiss of pain escaping his mouth as the blood trails down.

“Take off your shirt so I can see”

“Isn’t that a bold request” he forces a teasing smile.

“Your a wanker” I say trying not to laugh, my heart still racing. “You know what I mean”

He lifts the white shirt, if it weren’t for the gash on his torso, I could have been easily distracted by the way that his muscles moved. The way that the low light of the fireplace reflected off his skin, the way that his skin glowed from a slight sheen of sweat.

“Stay here, ill be right back,” I say getting up, he grabbed my hand before I could move.

“You can't get any help,” he said, his voice laced with panic.

“It's ok, I have some bandages in my dorm,” I said. I rushed up to my trunk and grabbed what I needed, my mother always made sure I was prepared and was eager to teach me everything she could about her work. I rushed back to the common room, kneeling next to him. My fingers slightly shaking from the initial shock. The scratch was deep, so I started to work on some charms that my mother had taught me. Sirius was laying down on his elbows. After healing the wound as much as I could, I grabbed a small towel, drowning it in water, and brushing it lightly on his dark red blood now rusting slightly on him.

“How do you know all that?” He asked, I hadn’t noticed him looking at me.

“My mum” I answered wrapping him up in bandages. “How does it feel?” I asked

“Loads better” he answered.

“You better get some rest, take the bandage off tomorrow in the morning, if it hasn’t healed completely tell me,” I said, “did you lose a lot of blood?” I asked starting to examine him to see if he was paler than usual”

“I'm ok y/n, thank you,” he said, “aren’t you gonna ask me why I was butchered, or why I'm out at 3 in the morning?” He asked.

“If you want to tell me, id be glad to hear it, but it's non of my business” I answered honestly, he looked at me relieved, “thank you, it's not really my secret to tell”. He was sitting up a lot straighter.

“I get it,” I said sincerely.

“Why are you up so late?” He asked.

“I was just working a bit, got carried away. I was on my way to my dorm when you stumbled in” I smiled.

“Yeah, sorry bout that”

“It's nothing, my mum would probably thank you for giving some medical practice” I joke.

“Glad to help. It's hypnotizing seeing you so focused.” He said

I laid in my bed that night, feeling guilt for knowing that I got so close to the flame I promised myself I wouldn’t touch, yet also feeling a sense of relief that he was ok.

The next morning I sat in the morning, not being able to help myself, wanting to know how he was. He came downstairs, the look of surprise evident in his eyes at seeing me waiting for him.

“Y/n,” he said.

“Hey, sorry, I just wanted to know if you were ok”

“Yeah, It's healed” he answered making sure only I could hear him.

“That’s good… well I just… I just wanted to make sure”

“Thank you again,” he said, taking a step closer.

His eyes were piercing right through me, his hand hovering slightly over mine. I leaned up and kissed him, my hand over his jaw, my lips on his, my tongue tasting him like a drug I never knew I was sober from. His lips welcoming me, I snapped back into reality and pulled away, his eyes still close leaning in my direction.

“I'm sorry… I … sorry” was all I could spit out, I made my way back to my dorm feeling like a fool for thinking that a guy like Sirius would like me, that he regarded me any more different than the other girls that touched those same lips. I had been stupid, I had burned my house I worked so hard to protect, on that flame yet what scared me was that I would do it again. His hand grabbed my wrist. before I knew it, those lips met mine again, but this time they were prepared. He pulled apart just enough to speak.

“I want you y/n”

“You already have me”

I couldn’t even think about how stupid I was being, how cheesy this all was, because when his hands lingered on my waist as his lips enraptured me all thoughts and common sense went out the window. Up in his dormitory he closed the door, we both knew everyone would be in lessons. My hands tangled in his hair finally getting a chance to mess it up. His hands sliding my shirt off as he unclipped my bra, and I took his shirt off, and he pulled down my skirt, I slipped out of my shoes. For a moment he looked at me, revealed for him, exposed.

“My merlin you’re even more gorgeous than I thought,” he said breathlessly. I could feel myself blush, he started to massage my breasts, and I let out a moan. I unbuckled his belt and felt him hard for me. All this time I thought he was in control, yet he felt the same things I felt. I slipped a hand removing his trousers enough to relieve him a bit, he let out a low growl and I throbbed. He moved my panties, starting to draw circles on my clit making me unravel. I laid on his bed, pinned down beneath him, he stretched me out, and I let out a gasp of pleasure. His mouth began to play with my nipples, placing hickeys everywhere because I was his. I bit down a moan.

“Don't hold it back love, I wanna hear you scream” he said in my ear. His movements making the pleasure in my abdomen build-up, but I knew he would tell me when I could cum for him.

“Sirius” his name coming out of my lips like water.

“Cum for me darling”

[iwriteforthetincanman]

Mandoctober Day 14: Helmet

A/N: brought to you by angst, depression, a small hot chocolate, the tense feeling in my shoulders as I’m typing this and of course the source of almost all of my writing: the mixture of insomnia and a f**ked up sleep schedule.

p.s. I am trying to take care of myself, October is just a tough time of the year for me and Mandoctober is helping me cope. I refuse to give up any possibly writings/drawings at this point.

Also this is loosely based off of headcannons from @dindjarindiaries​ blog and this is for @leo-moon​ ‘s Mandoctober!

TW: mentions of abuse (both descriptive, non-descriptive, mental, emotional and physical but only for a two, three paragraphs) Refusal to eat or sleep (Din refuses to do these things for two seconds and Reader isn’t granted them) minor character death, themes of slavery (NOT RACE SPECIFIED) (not a trigger warning) pronouns of a gender neutral partner and of course, lastly, hurt/comfort and fluff. (Also personally because I wrote this and I can shout it into the void, I’m gender fluid with she/her pronouns so I’d like to imagine reader is too, BUT THAT’S JUST ME SO IMAGINE THIS HOWEVER YOU WANT, once again requests are open for any sexuality/gender, as long as you give me brief description of what you want, nothing NSFW)

Time. Aboard the Razor Crest with no specific moon, sun or stars to guide you, time easily became irrelevant. What you learned very quickly was that with this discovery, you realized Din knew that too. 

Or it had gotten to a point where he learnt it a long time ago and just...forgot all about it.

Sometimes he would just sit there in the pilot’s seat, without even doing anything and he would just stare into oblivion. You wondered if his eyesight was okay. Now that you think about it...when was the last time he ate something? Does he ever take that helmet off?

“Din? Are you okay?” For a moment you thought he might be asleep. 

“Sorry...did you say something?” Okay, now you knew he at least needed some sleep. 

“Come on tin can. You need some brain food and maybe even an ‘extended nap’.” You joked.

“Isn’t that just called sleeping?” You couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not...or if that helmet was squeezing his brain too.

“Come on!” Grabbing his hand unexpectedly, Din flinched a little before you dragged him to his feet. 

“I-I can’t.” This admission had you stopping in your tracks as you reached the hull. 

“Is...everything okay?” You were concerned before but now you were starting to think he was hiding a wound from you. He’s done it before. Waiting until you were asleep to tend to it so you wouldn’t worry. Little did he know you had been wide awake with worry for a while and could hear him hurting himself with that blasted cauterizer. 

It was understandable that as a Mandalorian medical supplies weren’t cheap. Even with all the bounties Din brought in, currency rates were going up around the universe. It was difficult to keep up with. Which is why you never broached the subject with him.

It wasn’t your place to pry. 

Not with him anyway...he was silent, reserved, it was like he didn’t trust you. Yet you of all people understood that, you understood that it took you a long time to trust him. Like really trust him with your life...rather than just your role to him as the child’s ‘caretaker’.

It blind sided you when you realized how deeply you cared for him...Mando. 

Gods, you didn’t even know his own name.

“My creed. I can’t...eat in front of other people.” This was a touchy subject. You knew that. But you underestimated how stressed out he really was. He wasn’t wounded...he was just bone tired.

“Well, I can make some food-”

“DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND? I DON’T NEED YOUR HELP!”

“...ok.”

He hadn’t seethed the words out from his teeth as loud as you had heard them.

But...the look on your face as your eyes met the floor, undoubtedly filling with tears.

It cut Din deeper than any vibroblade could.

---

“I don’t know what to do Ad’ika. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I can’t dream without thinking of her. And now...now I’ve gone and done the worst thing I could ever do to her...I hurt her without even touching her.” 

The sigh was small before it reached a crescendo out of his lungs, erupting out of his head like it was a volcano. That was what it felt like to breath again. When he was alone Mando had the freedom to take his helmet off on the Crest as much as he wanted. As long as he was in space, his privacy was unlimited. 

But that all changed when he met the child and then eventually...you. 

“I just wish...I knew more about her. Knew her likes and dislikes. Knew what her favorite food was. What makes her laugh...her favorite kind of music…I’ve gone and ruined everything haven’t I? Not just for me but for you too. I can’t just let her go...and if she does leave I can’t just hire someone new. She’s...really burrowed her way into my heart, little one.” 

Din’s soliloquy fell into the little creature’s ears like a fly trap. The child knew his father was hurting, he could feel it, not just in the force but in his tiny little heart. It was the kind of hurt he couldn’t fix with his own hands...he had to find another way. He had to make his buir feel whole again. 

Determined, the little creature climbed onto his father’s chest as his breathing started to relax. 

“Ad’ika, I’m not in the mood for games right now…” The dark circles under Din’s eyes became more and more pronounced as the hours dragged on. The good thing about being a father now meant that he had someone to talk to at any time if the baby was also struggling to sleep. 

Din never thought he would become a father. He thought a lot of things wouldn’t happen before he died a warrior’s death. He definitely thought he wasn’t going to fall in love too...but that happened before he could even think about it. 

Multiple chirps and coos echoed from the child’s lips as Din continued to massage his temples. 

“Ad’ika did you not hear me?”

Opening his eyes, Din found himself utterly and completely alone. 

“Ad’ika!” Startling upwards, he launched himself onto his bear feet as he searched the dark air around him for either you or the child. 

“Y/N!” Screaming your name into the void he began to run, not caring about his bare feet, his sleep wear or the fact his helmet was completely missing. 

A fact that had not gone unnoticed by the child.

---

Abruptly, Din was launched into the scorching blazes of a desert sun. 

The sand hurt as he fell down the dune he wasn’t gonna lie. 

But in some weird, twisted way, it felt good to feel the sand under his skin. 

“Girl! You get back here! Wretched creature!!” The sudden yelling came from a small village not too far away from where Din stood. Flinching, he hid behind the sand. He felt naked without the beskar. It was almost embarrassing how scared he was right now.

Peering over the sandy hill, he saw a young child with Y/H/C hair, rosy cheeks and bare feet run straight towards him. Not considering the strange events that had occurred before this, Din, although he’d never admit it, attempted to run away from her. Except, when she caught up to him, she ran right through him.

Din couldn’t decide whether this was some wicked form of a dream or that he had died and was now wandering the nearest planet.

Oh Maker, what if he was dead? There was no way you could pilot the Crest on your own...and what about Ad’ika.

That was when he heard it, the baby cooing in his head. 

“Ad’ika?”

That’s when it clicked. He wasn’t in some hellish figment of his imagination or dead…the child had used his powers to do this since he wasn’t wearing his helmet. But then again...where the hell was he?

“Y/N! YOU UGLY THING! IF YOU DON’T GET BACK HERE I WILL THROTTLE YOU!”

Whipping around to face you, all Din was met with was the familiar sight of you hunched over yourself, right near his feet. Crying. This had happened before but…not like this.

Was this...one of your memories? 

Oh no...Din was in your head. Somehow, the baby had managed it.

“I DON’T WANT TO GO BACK THERE! AND YOU CAN’T MAKE ME!” Din turned back to face the furious woman, she looked like a cursed school teacher, her hair flying all over the place. But what stood out to him were the nail marks on her cheek. 

He couldn’t picture it but somehow this woman had distressed you so much you had decided to hit her. The next thing that happened confirmed it…

SLAP!

“YOU EVER HIT ME LIKE THAT AGAIN GIRL I WON’T BE AS CONSIDERATE TO KEEP YOU!”

Keep you? Oh...you weren’t a school child.

You were a slave.

That’s why when you had first met you had been so skittish, so fearful...and yet so brave. 

Somehow it all made sense.

Din couldn’t help reaching out for you as your head sagged on your shoulders, a purple and pink mark blossoming across the side of your face as the evil woman clawed her hand around your wrist. 

“You will make my children their supper and you will go straight into the cellar with no dinner. Do you understand me child?” She spoke with a gentle tone...yet the venom dripped from it with the force of a thousand sandcrawlers. 

“...Yes Ma’am.” 

Your submission startled Din. Then again, you were only a child, and if Din hadn’t been taken in by the Mandalorians at your age...who knows what could’ve happened to him. From what little he had heard about of slaves...they didn’t often make it to see their teenage years. 

Yet, somehow you did. 

Din couldn’t help being grateful that, from what he could see of you, those were the only things that cruel woman had done to you. 

---

Stumbling into a new landscape, Din shook his head in an attempt to gain his bearings. 

“Look Y/N, it’ll be a quick job, all you have to do is listen to what I say and we’ll be gone as soon as you can say ‘bantha fodder’.” 

This was a new voice. A teenager from what Din could guess. They spoke in a kind tone but at the sound of the way they said your name he couldn’t help the feeling of jealousy welling up in him. 

Shaking his head once again, he looking around the jungle planet to spot you and this person.

“Iarren...I don’t know about this. I know we’ve done stuff like this before but we’re not resistance fighters. Those are imperial troops. What if...what if one of us doesn’t come back from this?” 

A much older version of you appeared like a vision from behind the leaves. You were much older now, Din could only guess that you had only just recently come of age. You had grown into your features well. He could see more of the fierce woman he had come to know. 

“Babe, you worry too much. Imps are stupid, plus what we are after is right next to the door practically. If you’re so concerned you can cover me from here and I’ll be right back to kiss your worries away...alright?” Din could tell just by the way you shared a glance that you were absolutely taken with this person. 

In a way Din respected them...but in the back of his mind he knew there was a reason he was seeing this particular memory. Bracing himself, he could only watch as you shared a tender kiss with your lover. It shocked him how passionate you were with them. Gripping them like a vice as if you knew what was about to happen. 

Din’s heart broke for you as he watched you sob over their corpse later that very night. 

---

“Cyare?” 

Din thought he had finally made it back to you just by looking upon your face. Much older now, age similar to the one when he met you. Looking around, he realized...this was that exact moment. 

“Excuse me.” 

Now Din knew for certain he wasn’t dreaming...there was no way he could dream about himself in this much detail. It was like having an out of body experience...in a way he was.

“Can I help you?” The first thing Din noticed about you was that you were too kind to have been on a planet as rough as Andos. Imps were everywhere nowadays and it was the one time Din had to wear a proper cloak so no one could spot him. 

“I need to hire someone to help me with a child. I was wondering if you could help me find a person that is trustworthy?” Being a Mandalorian was so difficult that day. Meeting you made him realize that you were kind enough to suggest yourself, admitting that you were tired of the constant trail of dead bodies this planet had shown you. He flinched when you mentioned the blood you found leaking through your front door one morning. 

He accepted your offer immediately. Offering payment for a job you had been doing for years without none. 

Din had no clue he had saved you from slavery for the second time in your life. 

---

Waking up in a cold sweat, Din knew this was reality. 

All your memories, it felt like a dream. 

That’s when he felt his son sag against his chest, heaving long tired breaths. 

Din was scared he had over exerted himself. 

“Ad’ika...why did you do that?” 

All the child could do was reach for his father’s face, bringing it towards his own. 

“Da.” This one, simple word, brought Din’s walls crumbling to the ground as he began to cry. 

“Thank you...Ni kar’tayli gar darasuum Ad’ika.”

The overwhelming joy he felt caused his thoughts about you to skyrocket. He knew he had to share this information with you. 

Startling from his bed, Din shot out of his room with the sleepy child tucked against his vest clad chest. 

“Y/N! Cyare come quick!” 

The sound of his unmodulated voice scared you more than anything else he had said to you that night. What you didn’t expect when you opened the door was to find a complete stranger shouting your name. 

“WHO ARE YOU? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH DIN?!” You practically screamed, ready to throw hands with this strange practically half naked man that had appeared before you.

That’s what you spotted the child in his arms, half asleep and staring admiringly up at the man. 

“...He called me da. I...had to share that with you Cyare...I didn’t even think twice about my creed.” The watery smile he gave you was enough to convince you that the man before you was none other than Din Djarin himself. 

“...just like that? You...you threw away your creed, being a Mandalorian...just so you could tell me he spoke his first word?” Din thought you were upset, in a way you were. 

When he turned to find your eyes filled with the happiest of tears he had ever seen, the overwhelming urge to kiss you kept slamming into his head, bleeding through his heart. 

“Cyare...Father’s always share the first word their child speaks with their Mother.” 

When you began to sob, Din refused to hold himself back as he curled his fingers through your hair, cradling your son between the two of you as he tilted your head back. 

As his lips brushed against yours for the first time…

You both had never felt so free.

[shibasparklez]

Beach Volleyball

(This is a sequel to the jump rope story!)

“Miss!”

I stumbled into the sand with a gasp, whining as the hot sand hit my chest. My swimsuit was definitely more for style than function. The citizens of Bubblaine were known for being slow and laid back. Yet the one throwing the volleyball at me was gaining more speed than those ladies holding the jump rope.

“Oh, Dottie!” Peach called out to me. “Are you alright?”

“Yep!” I sprung back to my feet, not wanting my princess to worry. “Lemme try again! I can do it!”

“You’ve gotten quite a lot of sand on you, let me help you clean off.” She was about to stand from her recliner.

“After this turn, okay?” I brushed the sand off of my stomach.

“Can I help?” Tiara’s voice was so tiny that I could barely hear her.

“Of course, though that’s if I miss again.” I wondered if the one throwing the ball would have a problem with that. “You’ll probably get a way higher score, you’re so fast!”

Then, I jumped back into action. Hitting the ball the first couple times with ease. Since it was a beach ball, it often floated daintily in the salty air. At least until the thrower hit the ball with any kind of force. Then it would glide across the sandy court faster than my eyes could follow. After a while I would have to trust my gut and dive wherever the ball was generally headed towards. Once, when my eyes were open I swore that Peach was waving frantically at me. Yet, before I had any time to process what was happening I tripped over again. Sliding across the court and landing on someone’s...feet?

I opened my eyes and nearly choked. Pauline was standing over me, wearing a perfectly fitting red bikini. With subtle, adorable white dots. There was a bow right beneath her chest, drawing my eyes. I gasped, scamblimg to sit up. Now I knew what Peach was trying to tell me. She smiled warmly at me, holding out her hand to help me up.

“T-thank you...” My cheeks burned as red as her swimsuit.

“No problem. Oh, your bikini is adorable! Did you get yours from Lamode too?” She posed cutely, making sure that I got every angle of hers.

“Yeah...oh my god!” I giggled, trying not to stare too much. “That’s so funny! I guess we have the same taste in swimsuits. Red...really suits you though. You’re really pretty.”

“Dottie, you’re so sweet!” She clasped her hands together, grinning. “Well, pink is always flattering on you. I suppose we both look our best in polka dots.”

“H-honestly I’m surprised you noticed my suit past...all the sand.” I blushed, pressing my fingers together.

“Well, that’s normal around here.” She grasped my hand, making my heart flutter. “Oh, this volleyball game is just impossible! I tried to play earlier, but I swear that ball can teleport.”

“Right? I keep thinking I’m gonna do better next time but I’m always tripping over! Say...how about we try together? Well, Tiara asked to play too but I don’t think there’s anything wrong with adding one more.” I played with my hair.

“Oh, I’d love to! The more the merrier!” She hopped onto the court with me, just as Tiara appeared behind us. “Oh, Peach would you like to join?”

“Who, me?” Peach had just finished pushing her chair closer to us. “No thank you, I have the perfect view from over here. Do your best, ladies!”

The game started fast. With all three of us the first throws went by in a flash. Once things started speeding up, everything was much more manageable. Though, I often found myself getting distracted by Pauline. With her silky brown hair, even wavier in the humid air. Intense blue eyes focused on following the ball. Of course, the way her bikini flattered every inch of her body. Yet, I still got a few good hits in there. Eventually, we finally made it to over one hundred hits. Right as I managed to stumble over and fall on my back.

“Dottie! You ok?” Pauline was instantly on her knees beside me, her hand softly pressed to my cheek.

“W-well now I am for sure...” I could barely focus.

“We did it! Nobody has ever seen a score past a hundred!” She pressed a kiss to my cheek. “You did amazing! I swore we’d miss that last throw.”

“When you’re around I’m even more inspired!” I blurted out, the kiss giving me enough energy to sit up.

“Aw...that’s adorable.” She flashed me a wink. “Just like you.”

“Come on girls, let’s go wash off in the water! I hear that the carbonation is amazing for your skin!” Peach seemed just as energized as I was.

“Y-yeah, that sounds relaxing...” I gently touched the cheek that she kissed, my heart racing.

[probablyjustamagpie]

Chapter 1 is done!

or the first draft at least. Lemme know what you think before I inevitably delete this in embarrassment

I remember flying for the first time. I felt invincible, free from earthly constraints. And then I got a face full of sap-ridden pine needles. 

 Nine years later, and my luck doesn’t seem to be getting any better. Today had started off high, when I managed to snag the last cinnamon roll from under my sister’s nose (she’d already had three, the brat)(come to think of it, how did she even fit that many in her stomach? She’s tiny!), and I spent the afternoon soaring over the garden, feeling much more like myself than like a girl trapped in a castle. Father had even offered to take me into town for a new dress rather than fetching for the tailor.

Then dinner came around. Que me, a magic user, at a table of nobles who would have me sacrificed to the gods in two seconds flat giving the opportunity. All of these social events left me feeling stickier than if I was covered in pine sap. It wasn't as though I could slink away later either, not when the gathered lords and ladies all wanted to marry their sons off to the Imperial Princess. Maybe I didn't even want to marry a man (I do, but that's beside the point here). The aftermath is worse though, with all the dimwitted nobles vying for attention

“My Lady! I haven’t seen you since your brother’s wedding!” An older woman exclaims. Her ridiculously tall beehive updo sparks the slightest recognition, as do her tawny wings, but I’m left at a blank for her name. I spent most of Brenton’s wedding trying not to interact with all the stuffy  nobles who I didn’t recognize. The seven-year-olds Mirin hangs out with at these events are much more fun, even if I am practically 16.

“Oh, yes. Well I don't get out much, after all. Plenty to do here. At the palace, with my studies and all.”

“Ah, yes. I remember my studies when I was your age. Though, I don’t really use them much now. Your husband takes care of everything darling, so don’t fret!” Oh. I remember this one. Countess Ryelle. Lower down the chain of command, brainwashed into a useless sack of jewels and satin by her husband. She used to be one of the brightest people in the empire. I used to admire her, till I met her.

“Is that so?” I try not to sound sarcastic. “Oh, would you look at that, my father is calling me over. I’ll be seeing you.” never, I add under my breath.

My father pulls me aside. I’m not mean enough to lie, unfortunately. “Aria, the Prince of Mordu is here. I wish you would dance with him.”

“Must I?”

“At least pretend to enjoy these events, he may be your suitor.”

“Fine.” It comes out bitter and angry, much more than I truly feel. Dancing is fun, despite who attends these events. Still, my steps are forced and awkward as I approach the prince.

His hair is close shaven, and he looks at least 5 years my elder. Not to mention that he isn't Symphinian, and though humans aren’t bad, they always want to touch my wings. Nevertheless, I smile, trying to look like I’m genuinely afraid he might say no to a dance.

“Hello,” he says, curt, but not unkind. His voice has an unfamiliar twang to it. “Have you come to ask for a dance?”

“Yes. I am Princess Aria.” I nearly fall over when I curtsy without spreading my wings, trying to make the human prince more comfortable (I think it's ridiculous, but Father insists), and he grabs my arm. His grip is firmer than necessary, and I try not to shudder.

“Try not to fall at my heels, Princess. I’m afraid it happens all too often.”

“Is that so?” I ask, brushing off my dress. I hate it when 

“Why yes. Who wouldn’t want to dance with I, Prince Hayden of Mordu?”

“I’m sure my brother wouldn’t.”

He seems genuinely taken aback at my statement, before he laughs.

“You surprise me. I wouldn’t mind taking you as mine.”

I suppress another shudder at the thought of being considered his property. I extend my arm and flatten my feathers, pretending the whole interaction hasn’t made me feel very, very slimy. “Shall we?”

“We shall.”

I suppose dancing with Hayden isn't the worst thing. He seems unsure of the steps but insists on leading which is, frankly, obnoxious, but he at least doesn’t reach to stroke my wings at all. The Reolan prince I had danced with earlier had desperately wanted to touch them (Like I would let a stranger touch my wings. He clearly hadn’t read up on the Symphinian etiquette, even though Reola has the second highest population of us in the world).

I still walk away from the dance feeling sticky with his intentions. No matter the customs the royal courts of the world had seemingly agreed upon, 16 still felt like too young to be married off.

When the night began to draw to a close, I spotted Finnigan stationed at one of the exits. Tap his shoulder from behind, and whisper in his ear.

“I’ll see you on the roof later, ok?” before ducking back into the ballroom.

I don’t have time to see his reaction before my father calls attention to himself. 

“Lords and Ladies gathered here, I must apologize. Princess Aria has accepted a proposal, Prince Pascal of Suther!”

My heart drops. The prince in question was the worst of the lot I’d danced with. He’d touched my wings despite my protest, and would hardly let me speak. He was sandy haired, weak limbed, and generally an entitled weasel. Had I chosen (as my father had said I would be able to do, on my birthday)(he never really did care for me did he? To much like his wildfire late wife, who he snuffed out) it never would have been Pascal, not in a million years. And the cherry on top, the part that really got a fire stirring in my veins, was that Suther was the worst kingdom in Aoris.

See, Suther was where the Cruel King lived, as Finnigan and I called him. He had no restraints or hesitations when it came to magic. The moment I got married I would be signing  my death sentence, doomed to be sacrificed publicly or to quietly ‘disappear’. Like my mother had. As my father had sworn, per her last wish, would not happen to me. But apparently, dying vows mean nothing to a man like him.

I’ve lived years like this. Expecting the worst. But the feeling of betrayal is incomprehensible. You think your mind can come up with the worst things imaginable, with no limits of reason, and real life turns out to be worse. I take a deep breath. In, and out, in and out. Don’t explode. “They will be married in a month's time.”

My…. birthday. I will be married on my 16th birthday won’t I? That's when my life is going to fall apart. Pyla, it's already falling apart(who the hell am I, praying to Pyla? I’ll probably be sacrificed to her specifically).

“I wish all of you safe travels home.”

The nobles trickle out, until Pascal and his mother are the last two in the ballroom, besides Father and Mirin. The adults talk off to the side, as the prince approaches me

“Hello.” Pascal says, like we haven’t met.

“Hello.” It's tight and forced as a hold back my tears.

“You look sad, darling,” he strokes my wing and I draw the tight to my spine, instinctively moving back a bit. Mirin grips my hand, holding tight.

“Hey! Don’t touch my sister’s wings.”

“What did you say?”

“Don’t touch her wings. You can’t do that until you get married, or unless you are family. Or like, really, really close friends.”

“Oh. Why didn’t you tell me, darling?”

“I did. You didn't listen.” I practically whisper. 

“Well it doesn’t matter any how. In a month's time I can touch them all I want, isn't that right my little blackbird?”

“Jackdaw, actually.”

“What?”

“I have the wings of a jackdaw.”

“Does it matter?”

“Female blackbirds are brown, like Mirin’s wings. Mine are those of a jackdaw, jackass. Like my mother’s.”

Mirin ignores the swear. She’s heard worse from Father. But she squeezes twice. I need to calm the fire in my gut. Literally. Two squeezes means I’m getting hot.

“Mirin, why don’t I take you off to bed?”

“Ok, Ari.”

I swing her into my arms, and head to the door when Father stops me.

“Aria, you have a guest, where are you going?”

“It's getting very late. Someone needs to go to bed.” I tell him. Mirin yawns for added effect.

“Oh, a maid can do that. Come and talk with your fiance.”

“I don’t care.” I think Father sees the fire in my eyes, because he lets me go.

I bring Mirin to her room, and give her a good night hug.

“Is he a bad man, like the ones that took Mama?”

“I don’t know yet Miri. I don’t know.” I let the tears fall.

“Mama was brave, you said. You can be brave too.” I can be brave too. A plan begins to form in my head.

“And you as well, but it's practically midnight, so off to bed with you now.”

“Fine. Love you Ari!”

“Love you Mirin.”

Though I started crying with Mirin, it's not until I've locked the doors to my room that the downpour starts. I let myself sob so there is nothing left in me, lettting the hurt and betrayal spill out. The fallen tears begin to drown my fire, and I’m left feeling like a husk, empty and dry.

I wipe the final tear from my eye, and take a ragged breath. With no tears left the fire returns to my veins, for after all, a dry husk is a very flammable thing. The ornate clock on my wall reads 12:27. I shakily stand, and walk to the balcony. I shake out my wings and breathe. In and out. In and out. I wake more as the cool night air enters my lungs and dries the remnants of tears from my skin.

I get a slight running start and soar up onto the roof. As expected, Finnigan is waiting for me. I ran to him. He swoops me up in a hug, blotting out the stars and moons with his wings.

“Aria, are you ok?”

“Not in the slightest.”

I disentangle myself from Finnigan, and sit down. He follows suit. Mirin and I, as well as my brother when he’s home, live in the westernmost tower of the castle, and the roof is inaccessible without flight. It’s flat, and the ramparts protect us from being seen for the most part. Not that anyone is looking. 

We’ve spent so many nights here together, ever since we could both fly. To think that was eight years ago seems wrong, we were the same age as Mirin then. If we aren’t careful she might just end up joining us up here.

But that won’t happen. Not with what I have planned.

“Do you want to stay here?”

“What do you mean?” Finnigan asks, surprised.

“Do you want to stay here? Do you really want to be my bodyguard for the rest of our lives? To stay in the castle and never explore? To pretend not to have magic for the rest of time?”

“Well, not when you put it that way.”

“Does it ache? For you. It aches when I can't use it.”

“Yeah.”

I let my hands catch flame, the way my body has been begging me to do all night. 

“I’m getting married, Finn.”

“I thought-”

“Yeah. I thought too.”

“So?”

“Pascal. I’ll be married to the Cruel King’s son.” I stand, and let the fire go as I lean against the rampart. “I’m going to die, Finn.”

“What? Your father swore. He swore this would never happen.”

“He probably got a large dowry. He doesn't care. We knew that.” I look out to the west, away from this all. You can see the faint glow, for in the distance, of the burning forest.

“What are you going to do?”

“Me? Oh nothing… much.”

“Do tell.”

“What do you say we run away?”

[conceptualliteratureblog]

Language Profiles: student agency & multilingualism

This post is relevant either to language A/B teachers or to educators looking at whole school literacy implementation ideas.  

Thank you, Yi Shen (Sandy) for showing me the power of a language profile in our workshop in Hong Kong (Sha Tin College, September 2017)!  This is something any of you can try with your teaching staff or your classrooms to make language a truly dynamic part of the learning process at your school and help people become aware of the power and challenges that come with personal language knowledge.  

Some schools will already have a language profile for each student.  Often, this only lists the home language(s) and level of English (or language of instruction) of the student.  We can do more!  Also, sometimes the level of English listed is from an application filled out by parents trying to impress the school.  Find out where the information comes from to really understand what it means.  Essentially, there are many ways to get more information that can help gain knowledge for the student’s personalised learning strategies, but likely the best person to create this portfolio is the student, at least in secondary schools.

In order to understand how this works for students, try to do it yourself:

Think back to your infant development and schooling: what is your language story?  Where and when did you learn language(s)? What dialects do you speak?  What slang do you know?  Especially if you live away from where you grew up, this dynamic has probably changed over the years.  Even if you only speak English, you have probably had exposure to different kinds of English and use a certain type with friends, family, and students.  You probably also at one point learned a second language in school.  What was this experience of language learning like for you?  What excites you about (other) languages?  What scares you?  How does language give you power?  How does it make you powerless?

There will probably be a wide range of responses to these questions from colleagues and students alike.  Sharing your language story with a colleague or two can help you to express what language is for you and to have empathy for others who may find difficulty with language.

Try drawing a map of the language(s) you use today.  With whom and for what purposes do you speak different languages, dialects, or slang?  Maybe your register simply shifts; that is ok as well. Maybe you speak some languages for fun and others out of a need.  

I was raised an anglophone.  Hailing from Boston, I avoided the accent and local dialect due to the nature of the transplant and immigrant town of Lexington that I grew up in.  My parents came from Minnesota and Texas, and each had lived in Boston since just after their university years.  We had a blended American English at home.

My mom also studied French extensively at school, so when I started lessons at age 7 in our school system, the fit felt natural.  Half of my mom’s family is French and with Québec not that far away, schools in the area at that time all taught French to students as a ‘second’ language.  I took French all through grade school until the AP exam when I feel out of love with the language.  Suddenly, I had teachers who just cared about correctness and memorisation rather than taking us to see the Impressionist exhibit at the Museum of Fine Arts or teaching us how to make crepes.  The joy was killed.

So at university, I took Spanish for a year.  It was fun, but I wasn’t quite in love with it the same way.  And then there were all those other courses on the syllabus and I wanted to double major…so…no language B study for a couple of years.  But then, Latin the last year.  I had wanted to take Latin as a first-year but my advisor said it was a dead language.  What was the point?  I found the grammatical structures a fun puzzle and our tiny class of five a fun classical oasis.  

After college, I went straight into my MAT to earn a teaching degree.  I hadn’t studied abroad like so many US students mostly because of sport with the plan to somehow do it later.  My MAT programme allowed you to do your student teaching abroad, but you had to find the school.  It was much of the reason I had chosen the program.  

I had decided I wanted to give French a go again.  After writing to many schools in Switzerland and France, I finally got a positive response from the Lycée International American Section director, just outside of Paris.  Paris!  What a dream.  They wouldn’t pay me, of course, but I could work with several of their teachers and live with one of the school’s families in exchange for some babysitting and tutoring.  

That year was bliss.  But I could digress for ages about my love affair with Paris…back to the language!  I had to take intensive French courses again as part of my visa.  It was also a great way to meet people from other places.  I had very good, slow, correct French, I was told time and again.  But it was slow.  Part of culture is how you speak, and the French, at least the Parisians, don’t like to speak slowly.  I was given the advice to just spit it out and not worry about my mistakes.  So I did that, time and again, until I felt comfortable in French.  I felt like a different part of my personality came out in French.  

Fast forward three years: I had moved back to the states and then to Italy.  My French proved very useful in learning Italian and the locals were even more encouraging about just trying the language out.  Within a few months, I was comfortably having conversations.  Sadly, a lot of that is lost now after more than a decade without much exposure, but I think I could reclaim it in a month or so if given the opportunity.  

Similarly, when I moved to Hong Kong, I took Mandarin Chinese lessons.  But though I loved it, I found it difficult to practice the language in a place that is mostly Cantonese and English.  Cantonese was trickier to learn and ‘not as useful’ once you move away.  I never knew how long I would stay…if I had known it would be eight years, I probably would have learned right away.  In any case, learning some Chinese helped me to at least understand what it’s about and is something I would go back to as well with a longer stay in the mainland or again in Hong Kong.  

I kept up the French, though, with long, frequent stays in France, lots of films, and a long-term French beau along the way.  Now, I have friends with whom I speak French in Vienna, I read in French when I can, and I have that dream of living there….

But most of my life is still lived in English.  I’ve learned some German living in Vienna.  I took a class and did some self study.  But there’s always that time factor, and I decided to have a baby and do some writing instead.  Maybe I’ll go back to it.  Let’s see how things shape up in a year or two.  The little I’ve learned is certainly helpful and shows a sort of respect in trying, I think.  When I travel I also like to learn a few phrases for this reason.  We who speak English are privileged to have the ‘international language’ at our fingertips.  But we are only denying ourselves if we limit the other languages we can learn.  

Now I also have a baby boy who is learning language every day.  We speak American and British English at home.  We try not to swear around him.  I sometimes speak with him in French.  He will attend a mostly German speaking nursery school soon.  It makes more me aware of how and why we learn these languages.

That’s my language story in brief.  I’m sure you can find links with geography, emotions, work, and more to understand even more where it all comes from.  I have students with much more dynamic backgrounds.  Some speak three languages at home with their parents, a different one at school (English), take a foreign language, and speak in some kind of multilingual slang with their friends. When students go through their language journeys, their stories, they find ways to use language for learning.  They acquire agency.  In asking teachers to also go through the process, they can connect with the student’s learning as they make reflections on their own journeys, connected also to emotion, place, people…the list goes on. These associations help us understand the way we use languages as well as our motivations or fears connected to language.  

One of my students studying three language A at school (English, German, Italian) for a trilingual diploma (wow!) conducted her Extended Essay research on the topic of multilingualism and cognition.  She narrowed it to bilingualism since little research has been done beyond this, even though, as she noted, many people speak more than two languages.  She always felt her languages were a hindrance, which really shocked me.  Most of the recent research I had read showed the cognitive power of having more than one language.  This is why so many people try to get their kids in immersion programs if there is only one language at home.  She was aware of this, but sometimes felt like words escaped her or she couldn’t understand something she read.  She realised that even though she reads a lot, the time is divided among these three languages. Her vocabulary development could be limited in that way.  Research supported this, but this was the only area she found to be a hindrance.  The way she uses language can be more creative and the development of her brain allows for code switching that goes beyond language and into experiences.

Are any of you doing research in this area?  I would be interested to hear about any current work with multilingual speakers and happy to post a link to your published work on my blog.  

[redsheeryukatas]

Metro Molestors

In Tokyo the train system is exceptional. The network can deliver you from one side of greater Tokyo to the other in a little over or under an hour and to almost any place in between. About 7 million people use the trains daily.

At the busiest times, especially in the morning it’s hard to find standing room. For a pervert like myself being physically crushed up against school girls, business women and working mothers is he highlight of the day.

The other time for good fun is the last train of the day. Unlike other public transport systems around the world, all public transport in Tokyo shuts down by midnight. There will be a number of expresses that will run at this time. These trains get filled up too, but not with nice smelling clean well dressed people. But often with over worked salarymen, the desperate drunk who couldn’t score and the socializers who wished they’d took an earlier train.

Madoka was one of these people in the later group. Late twenties and married, she worked in a family restaurant. They had thier work drinks and said goodbye.

Slightly tipsy she felt relief as her train home was not too busy. Standing room. Enough that she could stand without touching another passenger.

Madokas work uniform had her in a plain white button up blouse and tight black jeans.

She carried her handbag over one shoulder and in the other hand her mobile. The commuters pose, hand up to face, neck bent down. The gaze intent on ignoring the world around her.

First glance when she came into the train gave her a reasonably safe impression. This was customary for any boarding. To take in the scene without staring too long. Almost all passengers were businessmen and women with just a few sleepy drunks swaying back and forth. So she stood with her back to the door, near the center of the carriage Facing towards a rather tall and handsome man in his mid forties. He smelt rich, he was safe.

A couple stops went by and the train filled up more, pressing her a little closer and closer the the businessman. Comfortable enough but she was getting pressed. A couple of minutes later there was relief as many of the passengers disembarked. Madoka relaxed a little.

Then she heard them. It must have been a whole sports team, something like a futsal (indoor football) club. They were all young twenties and visibly drunk. They all piled into her carriage and suddenly Madoka was surrounded by young athletic Virile bodies.

It was bareable enough. She felt at least three loins pressing up against her and she had to put her phone in her bag, for if she held it, her hand would inadvertently brush against the businessman’s belt. You see she was a little shorter than your average Japanese woman, so she was effectively hidden in this forest of men.

Then the doors closed. Bodies jostled. Erections sprouted up around her, pushing into her thigh, her waist and her ass. She squirmed in disbeliefe. I know I’m drunk she though, but this is way hotter than I thought it would be. She held her head down to hide her shame and pleasure equally. This brought her face exceptionally close to the businessman’s groin.

The train was now in express mode. It picked up speed and wouldn’t stop for 20 minutes until she was at her station. The young men around her were now fearlessly rubbing their erections against her. Hands also began to move over her body. Squeezing her ass cheeks and thighs. Hands groping at the soft skin between her thighs, fingers reaching up.

She was getting wet. She could feel the mess in her panties and she worried briefly if her husband would find it. Before she could concern herself too much with it several hands were groping her breast and clawing at her buttons.

By now the businessman had noticed the attack under which she was being persecuted but he was powerless to act if he wanted to. In stead to save her shame, he pretended not to notice. She noticed however, the rising stiffness in his pants. What a night, surrounded by hard cocks. This was just like the porn she would watch with her husband to keep a well dead sex life on critical support.

But this time she wasn’t watching it while getting thoughtlessly hammered, this time she was in it and it was exhilarating. Exhilarating cause she knew it was his fantasy but her secret, exhilarating because she never thought another mans cock could feel so heavenly pressed against her flesh. Exhilirating because the handsome rich good smelling man in front of her had obviously enjoyed the same pornography with or without his wife,Exhilarating because as her shirt was open and nipples exposed and grabbed and squeezed and fondled she reached out with her free hand and unzipped that mans pants and took his cock in her mouth. It felt amazing, she was in heaven. And it was exhilarating because he couldn’t stop her.

They couldn’t remove her pants but several pairs of hands took turns fingering her and fighting to slip inside her. His cock was hard and slick and tasted of salt and satisfaction. He had not had sex for a long time she decided, as it was exceptionally hard and after a few minutes great streams of creamy thick cum shot deep into the back of her throat. It was musky and she was heady with sex. Dizzy, foggy.

She didn’t hear the train arrive at her stop but barely had time to clutch her shirt together as bodies spilled out of the train. That mans cum splashed on her lip was forgotten and un noticed as she made her way out of the station.

She staggered through the park in front of her apartment. I think I’m still cumming. I’m so fucking wet. She sat down on a bench and had an orgasm. She squirt so much she left a wet patch on the wooden seat.

Fuck I need a shower. How the hell am I going to get in without waking him?

She didn’t hear them coming.

“Hey whore, we haven’t finished with you yet”

But she heard that.

She turned around startled. It was the men from the train. They were too close for her to get away. Not that she tried. She actually squirt again as they approached her. This was. I longer her husbands dirty fantasy, it was hers.

They accosted her, she put up a token resistance. Before she could scream hard cock was shoved in her mouth. They ripped her shirt off and lifted her into the air as they held her and pulled her pants off. The fact she could keep that cock in her mouth was testament to how much she enjoyed it.

Before long it was a barrage of hard dick. She was sprawled naked on the sandy ground, on her back. Often one would take his turn, while 2 more beat off on to her face. She gladly opened her mouth and accepted them in. Another who couldn’t wait picked her up from the sand, sat on the bench and inserted himself roughly in her ass. Before she had time to bite back the pain another was already above her and diving into her wide juicy pussy. As another came up to offer his cock she looked up into his face hungrily. In stead he bent down held her by the chin and they kissed.

She came then. Again. Great gushes sent her assailants away in cheers and laughter. They then went back and came inside her one at a time...

When they had left, a few gave her a parting kiss while she stood there and cum dribbled down her leg. Her phone rang. Oh god it’s him.

“Hey your late are you ok? I’m worried about you.”

“Yes yes I’m fine, there was just a train delay and then I stopped in at the convenience for a night cap.”

“Ok so you are close?”

“Yes I am, don’t worry about me you can go to sleep, I’ll be home soon.” I just need him to be in the bedroom, then I can make it from the front door to the bathroom without him recognizing me.

“Ok honey, I love you.”

“I love you too.” It still hurt her to say it. She knew he had a mistress online. But where do you draw the line?

She got home and made it into the shower. She had barely stepped under it when the bathroom door slid open and her husband invited himself in.

Oh shit fuck, will he see? Does he know?

“I’ve been waiting for you” he kissed the back of her neck. His bitch must have been busy tonight, she thought.

Before she could protest he dropped to his knees and starting taking hungry mouthfuls of her womanhood. He took care to lick her ass and kiss it, then kiss his way up to her clitoris then take another mouthful like a juicy peach. Maybe the shower water made it so he couldn’t taste it, but she knew she was still full of cum.

After he had his fill he came back up and kissed her passionately. She melted. He turned her around pressed her against the wall and began to slowly ease his engorged penis into her. Of course to her, he was a professional.

“I had a really hard night love.” She said.

“He thrust deep and hard signing.” Good, tell me about it.

“I was groped on the train.”

“Mmm” he moans and thrusts forcefull again, pushing her face against the shower wall and whispering into her ear. “Tell me more!”

“Three men rubbed their dicks on me while sucked off a fourth, I ate his cum, then got fucked by the others.”

As her story escalated he fucked her harder and harder, cupping her breast then slapping her ass. Then fingering her bringing her to climax with him.

“They took me into the park outside and fucked me till I came, then showered me in cum”

He groaned loudly and pushed deep into her as he shot hot wads of cum into her.

“You have such a vivid imagination Madoka” he sighed “your my perfect little whore...”

She turned around and kissed him, stared into his eyes and held his handsome face in her hands.

“I wish it were true, I wish it were all true.”

He chuckled and kissed her.

[twistednuns]

March 2017

Passer une semaine merveilleuse à Paris avec Frank! Wow, my first impulse was actually to start writing in French, this is how far I've already come in little more than a week of intense training... Which brings me to me first good thing this month, even before writing about the great things that happened in Paris:

Being extremely motivated to brush up my French! It was so much fun to notice how my language skills improved every day even though I only spent five days in Paris. On my last day, I bought one of the Harry Potter books in French (I figured reading a book I already know more or less by heart will make it less hard when I have to guess every other word). I read seven chapters on the train to Munich and have since scored thousands of experience points on Duolingo. Gosh, I even started filling a notebook with vocabulary and grammar rules. I wonder how long I can keep up this pace... But it's so amazing, I catch myself talking to myself in French (in my thoughts at least). Immersing myself in the language definitely made an impression on me.

Ok, so, Paris. The train ride was great because I started AND finished reading a whole book. / I was so happy whenever I managed to have a successful conversation in French. / I really liked Ombeline, especially roaming around her apartment (with more than 17 chairs in the living room alone). Going through all her books and bandes dessinées (she even had one by Margaux Motin!), making breakfast in her kitchen, opening some of the cupboards and marvelling at the sheer amount of stuff and back-ups she owns, looking at her souvenirs from Africa and the beautiful crescent moon mask. / The SOHN concert at La Maroquinerie (which was by chance only a few hundred metres away from Ombeline's flat). "I can feel it coming, we can never go back." / Finding a statue of a gorgeous bearded man in marble; surrounded by baby angels with severed heads. A man after my fancy. / Sitting in Sacré-Coeur, taking cover from the rain, having a profane conversation. / Taking a walk from Montmartre to Faubourg; a good hour of sunshine, glitter on the streets in Pigalle, noticing that gay Frenchmen have a very distinct style. Sharing a passion fruit éclair. Decadent bulky waste (a pink satin canapé). / Spending time at Centre Pompidou, rediscovering Twombly, Brancusi and Klee. / Sitting outside a café with a strong drink and a cigarette (I had to think about Franzi's idea of the ideal way to spend time in Paris - sitting around in cafés all day, wearing red lipstick and smoking way too much). / Watching the swing dancers at Balajo. / Le jardin des plantes! The palaeontology and geology museum were fantastic. I've always wanted to go there but somehow I never managed even though I've been to Paris three times before. / Sitting at the Seine, next to each other, taking in the scenery.

Minimalism input: reading Escape Everything by Robert Wringham in Ombelines overly full apartment made me consider doing something drastic with my life. Sell all my stuff, become a digital nomad. So many ideas!

Overhearing a little girl one afternoon addressing the red, white and blue balloons she had just gotten in a bakery: "Ja ich weiß, ihr Luftballons ihr wollt weg!"

I've basically stopped watching TV? What's going on? I only saw one movie in February, and that was at the cinema! Awesome! More time for books!

Buying books is so satisfying. I loved spending time in French book stores (Les Mots à la Bouche!), going through the used-book section at the Bouquinistes and Shakespeare and Company. I bought so many books during the last few weeks. It's gonna take the rest of the year to read all of them.

My colleague asked me whether I'd like to start a sustainability exchange programme with a school in South America! Exciting!

The Grossstadtgeflüster concert at Feierwerk was awesome. I even got a sticker with a street sign for Fickt-Euch-Allee (I kinda wanna put it over the real street sign here in my street).

Oat cookies with dark chocolate. Baking my favourite lemon cake with poppy seeds and blueberries.

A weird weekend - I neither left the house nor talked to anyone - but I was in the mood to clean all my windows! My productivity high is getting scary...

How sadly true this article on jealousy is. The first paragraph actually triggered me to shout out "ha" because I felt caught. Oh well. After all "you have to keep breaking your heart before it opens." (Rumi)

ALMOST booking a flight to Cancún over Christmas and New Year's Eve. It might still happen. So far I'm afraid I'm spending too much money as it is... we'll see how much unreason my bank account can take. But just imagining lying on a white, sandy beach on the first day of 2018 while Germany vanishes in a cloud of dust and smoke after the annual fireworks... nice thought.

Making poached eggs for the first time. You have to make a swirl with an egg whisk in a pot of vinegar water and crack the eggs while the water is still moving.

The nice feeling of the dust cover of Zeige deine Wunde by Rüdiger Sünner.

Talking to Inge on the tram.

Watching Wilde Maus at Rio Filmpalast. Pia Hierzegger is such an interesting actress and I just found out that she's been dating Josef Hader for years now! Ha. Best quote: "Bist du angrennt irgendwo?"

Drawing some figures for my sixth-graders and colouring them in Photoshop (I haven't done that in a while but it's so much fun). And in general - being more creative. Drawing a treasure map with black ink. Getting the watercolours out. Sitting down with my students to make clay and stone sculptures. It's so nice to create something, free from pressure.

A fantastic room tour.

The handsome dude from the French textbook publishing company. Can he come over more often, please?

Watching old Art Attack videos.

A very stormy morning. 6am, the sky still dark blue, the trees bending and bowing as black silhouettes against it. What an energetic start into the day.

Pressed flowers. I'm thinking about making my own, just like I used to as a kid.

This article: On drowning goats.

I just had a wonderful idea: I'd like to make a book for my friends. I'm not quite sure what should go inside but I was thinking of stories and memories, recipes, photographs and of course some of my drawings. I'd have so much fun layouting it and I'd also have a full round of really good Christmas presents. Projects! Whee!

It sounds counter-intuitive but: Running from a situation instead of suffering through it. I often try to do "the right/decent thing" to put a good face on the matter and sit it out when I'm actually dying on the inside. It felt good to say "no, not that shit again" and walk away.

An unexpected support squad at school (thanks, Selina, Osna, Katarina!)

Liberté, Egalité, Beyoncé

My tiny new portrait drawing class.

Successful adulting: taking care of boring insurance policies, contracts, applying for a visa, having my bike repaired, refilling my car's water tank. But I did all the things!!

Milchschnitte Himbeer and mango panna cotta.

Liebertext / exchanging daily mails with a stranger.

Getting the invitation for Franzi's and Ralf's wedding in the mail! I was so happy I was hardly even mad about all the confetti in the envelope, I mean, on my bathroom floor. And I was so relieved that my return flight from Helsinki is going to be on the day before; for I second I thought I wasn't going to make it.

"Komm mal her!" - "Aber ich hab dich gar nicht lieb." - "Ich dich aber trotzdem."

Sexy schmexy (I love saying this at the moment)

Bibiana Beglau as Mephisto in the Faust production at the Residenztheater.

Hitting the jackpot when opening a pint of ice-cream just to find a huge pool of liquid caramel right under the lid.

Seeing how creative some of my students are (I mean, hello, Frenchman, hunter, Santa Claus, rockstar and superhero minions made out of clay? Such great ideas!)

Little pink tulips with round heads and yellow edges. So cute.

Dinner with the Educational Lady Warriors. I mean, Franzi, Elsa and Martina. Finding out that Elsa is pregnant! She showed us her ultrasound picture and you can actually see a tiny human already, with the spine, brain hemispheres, the heart, the limbs... Fascinating.

Receiving a 50€ gift voucher for a book shop after completing a random survey on school questions. AND winning two theatre tickets for Liebesblind at the Pathos. Sweet.

Unsweetened almond milk. It tastes like marzipan!

I noticed that I really like the sinew over my right big toe. I don't have many body parts that aren't soft, which is why I appreciate this one sinew standing out.

I won two tickets to Liebesblind at Pathos and took Franzi with me. The location was pretty great, very Berlin-esque. Afterwards we had some drinks at her place, Ralf and a few of their friends were also there. A pretty nice evening!

My trusted old 2-minute-recipe: couscous with some feta and tomato puree.

I went to a drive-in cinema for the first time and I don't know why I'd never been before, it's AWESOME. You're in your cosy little box, get the audio via radio frequency (since my new car has a BOSE sound system the quality is excellent) AND you can talk throughout the movie!!

This incredible weather. Getting the first pistachio ice-cream of the year at my favourite ice-cream parlour in Schwabing. Seeing everyone sitting in the sun in front of the Glypthothek. And the blossoms on the trees. Munich is so nice in the sunshine.

Having pizza and ice-cream with Lexi, driving on the highway with open windows and extremely amusing German songs blasting (Schnipo Schranke, Von Wegen Lisbeth, Sookee). Drinking beer at the Bilderbuch concert, singing along, mock-arguments with Frank.

Hugging Doris just as long as she can bear it.

The other day my pupils told a colleague that she was beautiful, then they saw me and quickly added: "Oh, you are beautiful, too!" And then they group-hugged me. Adorable, bootlicking little gangsters...

How much fun I can have when I'm layouting tests and worksheets.