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midnightscramble · 5 months ago

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Hello I want to request one of Agatha Harkness x fem! Reader smut 🥹

Like Lightning Part 1 (Agatha Harkness x fem!Reader)

The Masterlist

Author’s Note: So, so many liberties were taken (if it’s not to your liking feel free to request again, don’t be shy!) Happy readings to you.

Summary: To Agatha’s surprise and relief her neighbor Y/n is not under Wanda’s complete control, Y/n has a feeling her and Agatha have met before…

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, pwp, slight angst/comfort, touch starved Agatha, thigh riding (Agatha receiving), biting (Agatha receiving), bottom Agatha, top reader, no Beta read

There was not much to do in Westview. The smart dressed college kids she went to school with had invited Y/n to hang out by the water tower, the go to spot for wanna be delinquents. But every night was the same, they discussed the same things with slightly more fluency than the night before, almost as if it was a rehearsal.

Rather than endure any more of the pseudo intellectual ramblings, Y/n had taken to walking at night. She walked just about everywhere, weaving in and out of neighborhoods, even taking to the near by woods. Although she couldn’t put her finger on it, there was something about Westview at night that intrigued her. The air had a dream like quality, perhaps it was the mysterious fog that invaded the town each night, or maybe it was just her imagination.

Either way, Y/n felt a keen sense of safety on these walks. The city council had recently established a town curfew, meaning everyone was supposed to be in their homes by 8 pm. Two hours later and it was guaranteed that all lights would be out as people retired for the night. Everyone seemed so eager to comply with the rules that there was not a single soul left awake to enforce them.

That was until she saw an abandoned bicycle propped up against a tree near the edge of the woods. Cautiously approaching, she let her hands run over the handles. They were warm. Someone had recently ridden the bike. Y/n looked around the empty streets, and then towards the woods. The odds were that some kid thought they’d be rebellious and runaway for the night. She huffed and debated her options: continue her walk, or prevent a would be search party.

Always the good samaritan, she trudged through the fallen leaves, letting instinct guide her. It was almost as if a magnetic force was tugging her deeper into the woods. No, a child wouldn’t have made it this far, a child would have turned back by now- the sound of crickets chirping suddenly ceased, replaced by the low hum of radio static. She stopped in her tracks a peered into the darkness.

Choppily, a disembodied voice sounded as if it were right in front if her “We ha-ve eye-s on an-other host-age”

Y/n took off in a sprint before she could process what was being said. She dropped her keys somewhere in her rush to safety but didn’t look back until she had reached the familiar pavement of the roads. Still running, she made a beeline for home, and to her great relief a light emitted from her neighbor Agatha’s window. She ran up to the front door and pounded on it. Her heart was beating so fast she feared her ribcage would give way to its force. Finally the door opened, and Y/n collapsed into the door frame.

“Oh, well hello to you too,” Agatha sing songed.

“Please you’ve got to let me in, there’s something in the woods…” Agatha’s eyes narrowed slightly as she peaked over Y/n’s shoulder to examine the outside.

With concern in her eyes, she guided the young woman in. She wasn’t quite sure if Y/n was lucid or not. It seemed unlikely that Wanda would suddenly decide to give her a gift, and equally unlikely that her wife, Y/n, was in control of her actions.

Wanda’s spell on Westview had cruelly separated Agatha and Y/n. Day after day, Agatha was forced to watch Y/n wonder, flirt, and be a pawn in the whatever plot Wanda was acting out. The two had not interacted a single time during this whole ordeal, making Agatha’s days feel endless.

Y/n being one door down and yet completely out of her reach had been driving her slightly insane. Although, she did appreciate the proximity as it allowed her to keep an eye out for any threats.

“What happened did someone chase you?” Y/n paused and looked around, she had never been inside Agatha’s home before. In fact she had never even spoken to the woman, and yet she had the oddest sensation that being here with the woman was exactly where she belonged. Y/n dug through the deepest recesses of her mind, and looked at the woman in question.

It was only then that it occurred to Y/n the peculiarity of the situation. How was it that Agatha wasn’t asleep? Everyone in Westview followed the town’s curfew, yet here Agatha was, fully dressed in day clothes and awake as ever.

She ignored Agatha’s question and posed one of her own, “How is it that we are both awake right now?”

The dark haired woman sucked in a breath. Y/n never ceased to surprise her, she should have known her wife would move against the grain even when dark magic compelled her to fall in line.

“We must not be susceptible to lullabies…” She searched Y/n’s eyes for understanding. Her crypticness only seemed to agitate her wife further. If she wanted to get away from Wanda’s prying eyes she would have to convince Y/n to come down to the cellar, where her ruins are.

Agatha arched an eyebrow, “Care for a drink?” Y/n nodded and followed her to the kitchen. On autopilot she started making the woman a vodka soda, but as she reached to place it down on the counter Y/n grabbed her wrist.

“How did you know my drink?” Not releasing her hold, Y/n pushed into the woman’s personal space, trying to intimidate her. Backing her into the wall she asked again, “What do you know?”

Agatha swallowed, the longing that had built up these past few months had left her positively starved for her wife’s touch. The feeling of the woman's body pressed against hers made her release a whimper. Y/n eyes darkened, and her breathe became shallow at the small noise Agatha emitted. Her grip on the woman's wrist loosened and she soothingly rubbed the pads of her fingertips against the reddened skin.

Even with no memory, Agatha thought to herself, the woman before her was still her sweet Y/n. Still caring even when frustrated and fighting.

For a moment, they stayed in that position, tightly pressed against the wall, breathing the same air until the lights of the house suddenly cut out. Y/n gasped as they were plunged into darkness. She clung onto Agatha, "What's going on, please I need to know."

She slipped out of the hold and tugged Y/n's hand gently, "You'll have to come with me." Silently they walked down the basement stairs. Large stones with carvings were littered across the floor, coming together to make a pentagram and Agatha guided them to the center. Wisps of purple floated through the air, like cotton candy being carried by the wind. In awe, Y/n reached out and gently touched it, it crinkled and cracked against her fingers like electricity. She turned to Agatha, waiting for an explanation.

...

They sat across from each other on the floor, far more relaxed as the reality of the situation was brought to light.

"And you're working to stop Wanda?" Y/n clarified.

"Well, now we're working to stop Wanda."

"But who exactly are we?" Agatha bit her lip before responding, "I'm your wife."

Y/n's eyes widened, she wished she could say it was in disbelief but she was mostly impressed with herself. A slow smile spread across her face, cat like and absolutely predatory, "Is that why you liked me corning you earlier?"

Agatha flushed, "You have to understand, I've been alone for months," as the woman explained herself Y/n started a slow crawl forward, "and having to watch you-"

"You've been watching me?"

"No! I mean yes, but not like that." Agatha buried her head in her hands. She jumped slightly feeling Y/n's hand close around her ankle, using her strength to drag the woman closer.

Once there was little space between them, Y/n carded her fingers through Agatha's hair, "That sounds awful, but I have to say, I'm glad you were alone" her grip tightened on the brown strands tugging her head back and exposing her neck, "I wouldn't want anyone else keeping you company."

Agatha's eyes closed as Y/n's lips met her neck, the feeling distracted her from the hand unfastening her jeans. She opened them when Y/n huffed with impatience. Agatha would have stopped to tease but she had waited too damn long for this. She made quick work of the pants and slid them down her smooth legs. The moment she was unoccupied Y/n hands were back on her, squeezing and rubbing every inch of skin almost as if she was confirming that Agatha was truly there.

Everyone else in Westview had seemed hallow, like a projection of a person, but Agatha was real. She was real and soft, and radiated heat.

Their mouths clashed against each other's and Agatha moved to straddle Y/n's leg. She slowly brought her hips down and rocked forward. Agatha broke the kiss as a shuddered breath left her. Purple clouds started gathering above the ruins, churning with energy. Peering above her, Y/n smirked at the display of uncontrolled magic. She could feel wetness gather on her thigh as Agatha's movements became rythmic, and the clouds above them rumbled.

Moaning into the other woman's mouth, Agatha's cunt clenched around nothing. Moving her hands to the woman's waist, Y/n forced her to move faster. Beads of sweat ran down Y/n's neck as the room grew humid, she looked at the beautiful woman above her, her wife. In act of pure possession she bit the soft flesh between her neck and shoulder, sinking her teeth in until she felt skin break. Agatha cried out and a loud crack sounded behind them, her hips stuttered to a halt and her toes curled at the sensation washing over her. Y/n ran her tongue over the bite soothingly and continued moving Agatha's hips until she pushed her away, overstimulated.

Cheeks flushed and out of breath, Agatha let out a laugh. Following her line of sight, Y/n turned to see what she was looking at. A spot on the floor was scorched.

It appeared as though lightening had struck.

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness #agatha harkness x fem!reader #wandavision #agatha harkness fanfiction #agatha harkness x you

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dullgecko · 3 months ago

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If I’m remembering correctly, Murph said that Riz has orcish as one of his languages, however Gorgug doesn’t.

So imagine Gorgug finding Riz speaks orcish better than him and Gorgug getting sad because he realized he didn’t speak any and Riz going out of his way to teach Gorgug gnomish over the summer.

And then the next to he sees his dad he greets him in orc and Gorbag literally cries, the Thistlesprings cry, Riz gets a call from Gorgug saying thank you and then Riz cries. Everybody cries.

They're in the middle of nowhere, half the team is looking at a notice board on the outside of a closed tourist booth trying to work out where they need to go next. It's in orcish and they turn to Gorgug who just shrugs and admits he has no idea what it says.

Riz, who was sitting on the hood of the hangvan trying to read their shitty outdated paper map comes over and scales the half-orc to get a better look. Squinting and making a noise of comprehension as he gets the information they needed and hops back down. Gorgug is shocked because he didnt expect Riz of all people to be able to speak Orcish, he'd half expected Adaine would have to cast comprehend languages but nope. Their goblin rogue spoke what should have been Gorgugs native tongue better than he did.

He goes to Riz later, when they finally get home from their road trip, and asks him if he could help him learn. He doesn't really have anyone around who he isnt embarassed to ask to teach him and Riz must have taught himself so he might have some good resourses.

Riz spends a couple nights a week on video-calls with Gorgug, and a couple study-periods in the school library drilling him with flash cards until the barbarian can hold basic conversations. Once he's confident in that Gorgug even initiates conversations with Rahg and Lydia regularly to get his fluency up before surprising his bio-dad.

#riz gukgak #fantasy high #gorgug thistlespring

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mambalae-s · 1 year ago

Text

wc: 7.8k words

cw: milf! reader; reader is described as a plus sized black woman; masturbation (m); public masturbation (m); no penetrative sex; fantasizing — throat fucking; one (1) mention of a daddy kink; one sided sexual tension; wakatoshi is a simp; he’s down bad; let me know if i’m forgetting anything!

notes from author: so, i’d wound myself up for an entire month working on this and i still had so much i wanted to write for it despite it already being nearly 8,000 words long…! i’ll certainly try my best to make a second part for this, one i’ll want to write from our reader’s experience too! this, truthfully, wasn’t the first idea for my milf reader idea, but i think it’s so much better, and i’m happy with the plot i settled with! i hope that, at least even a little bit, it’ll be satisfying for you to read, too!

it’s amidst a blistering summer’s day when you move into the house next to his.

there’s blood pumping beneath ushijima wakatoshi’s skin and boiling beneath each heavy breath that wafts from his swollen lips. his feet pound against the paved roads as he jogs at a steady pace, and he feels his fibers tinge with a static as they blaze beneath the sweltering noon’s heat, a familiar ache ebbing deep within his muscles and crawling through his veins. the sweat clinging to his brow burns like a toxin that pours out through every cell, his heart beating with the drums that pound through his airpods and teach him a dance he’d learned many times before. iwaizumi had told him once that running could be as addictive as any drug, and here, beneath clear blue skies and through heavy draws of air, wakatoshi considers that maybe he was right.

he takes a deep breath as he mounds the slight hill that leads to his house, and abruptly, his pace halts, chest heaving still as his eyes take to the moving truck parked out in front of the house next to his; a house that had, for a while, remained empty, certainly gathering dust and stale air after the elderly couple had moved away nearly a month long past. it had been easy for him to forget all about the vacant space, what with him dedicating his days to training and months of traveling for practice and tournaments, and it seems that, within that time, someone’s finally purchased it and were moving in today.

he’d been gone long enough for the hard working men to have finished their work, wakatoshi muses, as he watches them pack away their trollies and begin making to either door of their truck. though, as he stands there, he feels puzzled, confused and seeking reason to something he can’t find. there’s nothing spectacular about seeing these two men readying to go about their day, nothing that should keep wakatoshi’s feet planted and his laboured breaths stilling beneath the wind, yet he finds himself waiting, lulled into a curiosity that he can’t explain as he watches the break lights glow red and listens to the engine roaring to life.

and then, he sees you.

you, who wears a gorgeous sundress, deep purple fabric woven like a tapestry of flowers that blossom over a body of voluptuous curves. he finds himself enraptured by your brown skin that shines beneath the scorching sun like smoky quartz, by the sweat that lines your brow as he likens the glistening sight of it to beautiful jewels that shine around your smile and set you alight with the luster of ten thousand diamonds. the strands of your black hair, they sheen on the painting of the midnight sky; dark and elegantly falling around your round face and pouring like a river of obsidian and black tourmaline across your busty chest.

“thank you so much once again,” your voice comes through with fluency in his mother tongue, the japanese you speak perhaps a little regional… osaka, he considers, or kyoto? your voice sings on the breathlessness of intense labour, and wakatoshi deludes himself into thinking that the exhaustion on your sultry voice mirrors the intensely beating heart that stirs in his chest with a restlessness that he doesn’t attribute to his run. “seriously, you two… i can’t tell you how much i appreciate coming all this way!”

the older men you speak to are friendly in their departure, cheering with bright smiles that resemble yours in their warmth and openness as they drive down the deep slope, passing him by the side and far from his mind as he loses his focus on you. suddenly, the fog that clouds his mind doesn’t come from a sweltering summer’s day, but instead from the picture of you, hot and bothered and eyes squeezed shut as you try to wave cool air over your wet skin. the daze that locks around his tongue is the one of your sheen-covered lips as they part and let pass the heavy breaths that sit on your chest, of the rise and fall of your large breasts and the bit of tummy that he can see atop your curves. that daze that consumes wakatoshi, he tells it to lust — a venom that crawls through his bloodstream and tinges his tongue with desire unchecked, so that he becomes consumed by you and the deceptively innocent visage that burns itself into his skin. and suddenly, wakatoshi feels too damn hot, his heart beats so hard he fears it’ll leap right from his throat, and his pants are too damn tight.

oh. fuck… how embarrassing could it be to get a hard on in front of your new neighbour? he didn’t think he’d ever have to ponder such a specific scenario, and he certainly isn’t happy to have a taste of it first hand. even worse, what is he supposed to do when the very same neighbour turns her eyes to him and catches him staring like some demented creep? wakatoshi’s face burns with a heat that far precedes the blazing sun and he wishes the earth would open up and swallow him whole as his mouth starts to taste of sand and parchment paper. really, he shames himself, how appallingly embarrassing!

just like a guilty child, he averts his eyes as his blood boils across his neck. his feet act on their own, guided by the desire to disappear as quickly as he can with hurried steps and trembling hands that are more than eager to open his front door and seal him behind their sanctuary, and he feels even more guilt for awkwardly avoiding the kind yet confused smile you’d sent his way as you watched the large man scurry up his front steps. the protruding bulge that pokes out from his trousers is so painfully obvious, almost aching behind its confines as he prays that you hadn’t had enough time to notice it. and even then, behind his barrier of safety, he’s left with a problem — a very big one that powders his nose red and takes his breath on laboured climbs.

huffing, wakatoshi trudges to the kitchen, desperately searching his refrigerator for the coldest bottle of water he can find and starts chugging right away. arctic drops spill between his lips and down his throat, though the chill does nothing to dissipate the heat coursing beneath his skin and inside his pants. he doesn’t intend to slam the now half empty bottle down on his counter the way he does, but he loses control and water spills over, and his olive eyes only glare at the puddle that drips over on his marbled floor with something of disdain and increasing frustration.

for all that was holy, he can’t stop thinking of you. even now, with cold water sticking to his skin and poured over his bare feet, wakatoshi cannot get this image of you out of his mind and is rendered powerless to the aching boner that refuses to go away. within just one moment, you’ve seeped into his mind like a parasite that morphs and festers on sin and fornication, plaguing him with your large breasts and plump thighs that sheened with sweat and poured out from beneath your sundress. it’s a hard battle he faces with himself, feeling morally disgusted by the thoughts he finds himself with, and all about a stranger, no less. there’s no way he could be acting so depraved, right? is he a man so starved that the mere sight of an admittedly attractive woman could send him reeling like a damn teenage boy?

once more, wakatoshi heaves a heavy sigh, slouching for a moment with hands clenching the edge of his black stone counter before he rises to his full height. it’ll do him good to at least clean up this spill, and perhaps, he thinks, he aught to keep himself busy — surely then, he’ll forget all about you, and this glaring problem beneath his trousers will forget you too.

thankfully, it’s easier than he’d had hoped to fill the hours of his day. after taking care of his spill, wakatoshi takes to his home gym and continues working out till the late evening, when he showers and prepares himself to settle in with a cup of white wine and a book that he’d bought himself a while back, though only just recently had the time to begin. it’s only so rare for him to be able to enjoy slow days like this between training and volleyball tournaments, and he finds himself at peace with this lull in his schedule. finally, he feels relaxed and at ease, and his stressful situation from the afternoon earlier is far from his mind, until there’s a knock at his front door, and his heart lurches in his chest.

apprehensive, he turns his jade coloured eyes to the smoky glass panels by his entrance, and he feels his tongue turn heavy when he sees you waiting. for a moment, he hopes that you’ll give up if he doesn’t answer, though he immediately feels a bit guilty for thinking that. you’re only wanting to greet your new neighbour and make a good first impression, he considers, and it certainly isn’t any fault of yours the situation he’d found himself in earlier that day. you’re entirely blameless, and it’s really him who apparently needs to mature and grow a bit more than he’d thought. taking a long sip from his glass of chardonnay, wakatoshi builds himself on liquid courage and meets you by his doorway — though there’s no amount of wine that could’ve possibly prepared him for the sight that greets him once he opens the door.

you’re here, but you hadn’t come alone. hiding behind each leg are a young boy and girl who look about the same age and share striking resemblance to your own soft features. heads topped by black, wavy curls, with her tied in pigtails and his cut to his shoulders, there’s curiosity in their dark brown eyes as they appraise him, and he feels almost as if they’re judging him with something that he can’t identify. and you, you smile sweetly at him, your lips painted with a clear gloss that shines golden beneath the lights of his entryway’s chandelier.

“i’m sorry for disturbing you so late in the night, mister,” you offer your apology, and wakatoshi can hear more clearly the distinction in your accent that he’d only briefly heard before. now, as he listens attentively, unconsciously taking in the sultriness of your voice as your words flow from your two-toned lips, he’s certain that it really is a kansai dialect. “i’d just wanted to introduce ourselves since we’d just moved into the neighbourhood.” you lift your hands, that he now notices are not empty, to present a beautifully packaged basket with a little pink bow tying it closed. “and we also brought you these as a gift — a thank you gift, kind of! for having us here with you!”

wakatoshi accepts the gift basket from your hands, trying his best not to focus on the way you tuck your hair behind your ears and beam brightly up at him. standing so close, he’s able to notice new things about you that he wishes he didn’t feel so curious about; like the way you style yourself elegantly, your straight black hair parted to the side, curling the smaller hairs surrounding your forehead so that they lay neatly and perfectly brushed to frame your round face, or the fact that you stand several inches shorter than him, perhaps only barely reaching his chest. he wishes he doesn’t take in the clothes you wear and how they fit your beautiful figure, how your white cardigan hangs elegantly over a beige tank top and khaki coloured pants that accentuate your mature body. he tries, not to notice these many things about you, and so hopelessly fails, as he clears his throat and tries to offer you a polite smile that he hopes doesn’t come off as a grimace.

“thank you for being so thoughtful,” he says, and your smile widens, your eyes creasing around your expression as you respectfully bow.

“it’s my pleasure! i really should be thanking you for welcoming us this late!” theres a timidness to your grin as you lift yourself to full standing once more and you bashfully laugh. “it took us a little longer than we thought to prepare all our gift baskets — oh, right!” your eyes widen on a realization, “my name’s (l/n) (f/n), and these two here,” gesturing to the two children behind you, you bend down a bit to rest a hand on either of their backs. “this here is asahi, and this is makoto.”

the two young children, with your encouragement, bow their heads in greeting to him, with the boy — asahi — quickly returning to hide behind your leg, while makoto continues to stare at him, now with her curiosity unbridled and what looks like an eagerness that roars beneath her brown eyes.

he looks back up at you and offers a bow of his own, ducking his head with the basket clutched to his chest. “my name’s ushijima wakatoshi,” he says his name, and immediately, he hears two simultaneous gasps from the children by your feet. though, at least in this moment, he decides not to ponder too much on the expression. “thank you for introducing yourselves and for bringing a gift.”

you wave your hand in a ‘shoo shoo’ motion and shake your head. “no need for thanks, ushijima-san,” you hum, “really, it’s nothing much, but i hope you’ll be able to find good use for them— ”

“are you a volleyball player?”

suddenly, the little girl, makoto, blurts out a question that causes your eyes to widen and catches him off guard as you both turn your attention to her. she continues to stare up at him, as if awaiting his answer despite you reaching for her hand to gently pull her back. “makoto!” you exhale, a bit surprised, it seemed, as if you hadn’t expected her to ask something like that. though wakatoshi, he doesn’t take any issue at all with her question, and he simply nods his head, once more offering the most polite of smiles he can muster.

“that’s right. i play volleyball.”

you seem to recognize something within the awe-filled gazes of the two children that he doesn’t, because before either of them can get a word out, you’re hurriedly reaching for their hands and making your way down the stairs. “thanks so much again, mr. ushijima!” you call back to him with one free hand, leaving the man standing stunned inside his doorway as you walk away from him. “let’s get along well from now on!” when you think you’re far enough, he thinks he hears your voice taking to astonishment as the little girl whines a complaint — “but mom, we saw him on tv! it’s really him!” and your response heavily pouring with your dialect as you lightly scold her for blurting out so suddenly.

he’s left here, basket in his hand as he hears several gears creaking to their abrupt stops and clanking as they fall apart in his mind. mom? she’d said mom, hadn’t she? with ghostly steps that are far too quiet for a man of his stature, wakatoshi shuffles to his expansive living room where he sets your gift atop his clear glass coffee table, right next to his glass of wine and his book, and collapses into the black suede sofa behind him. you’re a mother? the guilt that consumes him tastes bitter and threatens to crawl up his throat. he sits, hands folded above his lips as his elbows dig into his thighs, and he stays this way for one minute, then two, constantly replaying the sound of your daughter calling you mom. your daughter, your daughter and son, you have a daughter and a son who both call you mom—

wearily, wakatoshi’s eyes glaze over your cutely packaged gift and straight to the glass of wine that sits like a pretty temptation, and cruelly, he thinks of how you are just the same. a beautiful and painfully enticing temptation that will surely render him helpless if he gets any more involved with you. he groans, hissing under his breath as he reaches for the glass and stands up. it’ll serve him better to retire for the night, he concedes, a hand nursing the growing migraine that sits on either side of his head. he’ll finish his glass and read his book peacefully in bed, and for the second time this day, wakatoshi will forget all about you.

except, he doesn’t.

amidst his waking dreams and long night, forgetting you is impossible. how can he, when you come to him here in his bed, the straps of your purple dress falling from your brown shoulders and your breasts pouring out from the thin material? how is wakatoshi supposed to forget you when in his dreams, you tease him with the likeness of a vixen, when you lift the edges of your skirt to show him just how plump and fleshy your thighs and ass are, whispering “do you wish to touch me, mr. ushijima?” in that sultry, silk-like voice of yours. he dreams of the way your eyes would roll back into your skull if he brushes his fingers over that sweet spot between your legs, if his tongue traces lines over your panties until your knees buck and you fall right on top of him. in his dreams, he wants you so much that it’s an ache he needs to fill, until he’s unconsciously fucking his mattress and squeezing his pillows with a vice. his breathing is laboured and tasting of honey as he begs you yes, yes, please, i need you… need you so bad, please i need to touch you—

his climax rocks his body like an earthquake and tears him away from sleep with a jolt, his chest heaving as sweat clings to his skin and his eyes, disoriented, search his dark room for your image before they fall to the soiled mess leaking through his boxers and between his thighs. his damn cock is twitching, still painfully sensitive, and wakatoshi stutters through a gasp as his hips buck uncontrollably, as if chasing some phantom feeling, cum still continuing to spurt from the angry red tip. he reels from pure shock and a bit of morbid amazement as he reflects on his dream, and as he recalls those dirty visuals his mind managed to conjure, he lets out a loud, frustrated cry and falls flat against his mattress. really, is this the man he is? a perverted fool who has inappropriate thoughts and dreams about another man’s wife?

he curses himself, and curses his mind too, as he begrudgingly swings his legs over the edge of his california king and. sleep evades him now, he certainly fears reliving that dream that felt far too realistic, your touches, the taste of you — all far too real that it leaves him shaken. one hand lifts to brush his sweat-matted hair away from his forehead as his eyes disdainfully behold the mess he’s left all over his dark sheets, where his semen sits in a large puddle while there are still drops running down his thighs, and he unwillingly thinks about you once more. those sounds that your voice made in his dream, all those dirty songs and cries of his name that you’d uttered, the way your skin felt so supple and soft beneath his hands as he felt you up and spread your legs apart—

a surprised moan causes wakatoshi to slap a hand around his mouth as his cock twitches in his soiled boxers, still very hard and leaking through the now cold material. no, he decides, he really won’t be able to fall asleep again — not like this, at least. but wakatoshi has practice in the morning, and within all his years of playing volleyball, he’d never gone a night without proper sleep. for the umpteenth time, he groans helplessly, flopping back down on the edge of his bed. he glares at his boner, wishing it would just peacefully deflate and that, really this time, he could forget you and just go back to bed; and again, once again, he sighs, and submits himself to a decision he’s certain that he’ll immediately curse himself for as he pulls out his cock and wraps his fist around it.

he hates himself for it, but it’s so easy for him to build a perfect fantasy of you. one where you’re sitting prettily on your knees and batting those doe-brown eyes up at him through your lashes. his hand squeezes softly around his erection and at first, he moves slowly, choking back each heavy breath of air that threatens to burst through tightly pursed lips. but god, he thinks of the way you’d tease him, slowly tracing your mouth over the tip and leaving a trail of saliva and strawberry flavoured lip-gloss while your manicured nails would trace tantalizingly lines down his thighs. his hips buck impatiently into his own fist and his chest heaves with soft grunts that become more uninhibited as he imagines you finally slipping him into your warm mouth and his very spirit crumbles on the lust that consumes him.

“does that feel good, mr. ushijima?” you’d beseech him, so eager to please as you’d trace your tongue across his leaking slit, collecting the drops of precum that poured out and smear it around your lips. and he’d be just as breathless as he feels in his fantasy, trying and failing to conceal each gasp that evades him as he nods, “yes.. yes, your mouth feels so fucking good.” he’d force you to swallow him whole, pushing your head down to the base until you’d choke and your eyes would water as he’d throw his head back — without his will, his hand moves faster around his cock and fills his dark bedroom with filthy, sloppy noises. “take every inch, don’t you fucking dare spit it out. that’s it, shit…just like that. swallow it all the way down.”

he thinks of how fleshy and warm the back of your throat would feel as you’d gag around him and dig your nails into his thigh, struggling to take even a single breath through your nostrils as he’d mercilessly fuck your face. he’d drag you off him suddenly and slap his cock against those messy lips, and he’d get to admire the way you’d fall apart as your mouth lolls open as if begging him to put it back in. “ohh, such a greedy little slut, aren’t you?” he’d taunt, and a particularly loud, wanton moan rises from his chest as he imagines the way you’d use your hands all while staring up at him. you’d be the very picture of salaciousnes as your hands wrap around his smeared length, teasing the underside of him with your tongue and groaning through your own arousal. he imagines how he’d wrap his hand around your throat as he’d tower over you; he’d have your face pressed right up to his stomach while he’d reach down and grab a handful of your breasts, reeling at how soft and squishy they’d feel pouring between his already large hands before he’d twist your nipples, and you’d whine like a helpless nymph from how sensitive your body would become. “go on, then.” he’d hum, and he wouldn’t give you even a second to prepare before he’d have you choking around his length, groaning as spit would bubble around his erection and pour from your nostrils. “use those pretty little lips of yours. mhm, let daddy feel your tongue on his dick while he fucks your throat.”

and its as he pictures the way your eyes would roll into the back of your head, cheeks puffed and stuffed full as you whine around him that, for the second time that night, wakatoshi cums into his fist. pleasure sears through his teeth and down his spine as spurts of semen explode from his slit and he forgets himself on the suddenness of his orgasm. “shit… ahh— aahhhh, shit!” the spots in his vision and the heat that consumes him from his bone and to his skin, it all coalescences on a pleasure he’d never once felt in his thirty-three years of living. his entire body trembles and his cock twitches against his abs, cum splashing against his sweat-sheened skin and dripping over his skin like hot, molten lava. the afterglow of pleasure is forsaken for the adrenaline that courses through his blood and turns the taste of his tongue to metals untold.

through his bliss, wakatoshi reaches clarity, and is overwhelmed by an intense wave of disgust and repulsion as he glares at his cock so feebly slapping against his stomach; it’s still hard, the damn thing, and every cell in his body craves ravenously for more, more, more…but he refuses. absolutely refuses to repeat what he’d just done. for christ’s sake, you are a mother — a wife to someone who you return to each night, who gets to hold you and touch you, to whom you may give your heart and gentle affections to. tonight had been a mistake, he tells himself; an irrational lapse in judgement, and come morning — he means it this time, really! truthfully! — he’ll forget all about this sin, and forget about you. you’ll be nothing more than a new neighbour who moved in with your family, and your interactions will be few and far between, enough that he’ll be forgiven for the immorality that he’d let himself fall to.

but the devil, oh, the devil, bless his soul, he has his tricks, and he loves to play.

wakatoshi hasn’t at all forgotten about the previous night, but he pretends that he has. on the cusp of dawn, when the rising sun sinks her warm fingers through his tousled hair, he focuses on his beating heart and his laboured breath as he jogs through the park and back through his gated community. he pretends that he didn’t jerk off to his new neighbour and envision her doing the dirtiest things to him, and he almost succeeds.

almost.

he nearly swears when he walks out of his front door the next morning and bumps into you at the earliest hours of dawn. there you are, where you shouldn’t be — not this early in the morning before the sun had risen, when he’d made sure to leave early enough that he would’ve avoided this situation exactly. it’s summer, isn’t it? why, wakatoshi wonders, had you woken up so early? could he really be do unlucky? he sees you and your two children, and he’s now certain that they must be twins, and you’re too busy fixing their backpacks on their backs and fussing over their hair and faces to even notice him awkwardly frozen by his doorstep.

“you both have everything you need, right?” your voice reaches him on tones of faint worry and anxiousness as you lean down over your children, unwittingly showing off your rack for him to see between the button up blouse you wear. even from where he stands, it’s such a clear picture that he feels his head spin as his eyes remain glued there. “you’ve got your toothbrushes and toothpaste? lotion? shampoo and conditioner?”

your son, asahi, tries to escape your busy hands, though it doesn’t dissuade you very much it seems. “mama, we already have everything!” he grumbles with a slight pout, “we’ll be alright.”

a quiet sigh falls from your lips as, finally, you relent, kneeling down to hug your two children. “i know you will be, asahi,” you whisper softly before pressing a kiss to each of their foreheads. “promise me you’ll both be good and have lots of fun, alright? can you send me a text when you get there safely?” both the twins nod their head yes before placing a kiss on either of your cheeks, and wakatoshi finds the sight endearing as he sees your smile brighten on tenderness and motherly affection. a part of him feels as if he’s intruding on what should be a family’s private and treasured moment, something precious that should only be seen by your husband and not the creepy neighbour next door. his stomach turns in on itself and, like a demon he can’t escape, guilt and shame crawl over his neck.

“bye mama!” makoto is the first one to hop on to her bike, waving her hand excitedly and full of energy despite the early morning, while her twin follows in a far less eager manner as he waves at you too. “i love you!”

“i love you mama..!”

“i love you both, you two!” now standing at full height, you wave both your hands as both asahi and makoto start to pedal away. “make sure to have lots of fun!”

before long, both your children have gone down the hill and you’re left alone with a wistful smile, and wakatoshi finds himself desperate to go before you have the chance to notice him standing. his normally sure feet fail him on a moment as he stumbles in his hurriedness, and in his attempt to steady himself, his hands fall slack and drop the very large, very metal he’d bottle been carrying with a loud clang! that causes your head to whip around. he meets your gaze, shame bubbling in his gut and he wishes that lightning would just fall from the sky and take him from his misery. what happened to avoiding you as best as he could? he wonders, what happened to leaving at the crack of dawn and being on his way before he’d need to lay eyes on you again so soon after last night?

wakatoshi is so embarrassed that he could die.

“ah! good morning, mr. ushijima.” you, oblivious to his plight, greet him politely, bowing your head. he notices the way you absentmindedly pull your cardigan over your sheer night dress, the chill from the morning mist having caused you to shiver a little. your nipples have turned hard and poke through the thin white material, and are very, very visible without him needing to try and see them. he purses his lips, sighs through his nostrils and averts his gaze, focusing instead on retrieving his traitorous waterbottle and praying that his grey slacks do well to hide the problem that now begins to grow beneath them.

“good morning, mrs. (l/n.)”

he tries to focus on his feet as he descends down his front steps, ensuring that he doesn’t lose his footing once more rather than looking at you. and yet, he can’t help the awkwardness that he feels as every muscle in his body seems to have tensed up despite him having gone jogging to warm himself up. you remain none the wiser, something he’s thankful for, as he hopes and prays that he can get past you and on his way before you notice his strange demeanour.

“do you normally get up this early?” you ask in a polite attempt at making small talk, to which wakatoshi offers you a slight nod as he gives you just enough of his attention.

“yes,” and, admittedly, he’s also curious, and he returns a question against his better judgement. “do you?”

laughter bubbles up from your lips as you shake your head. “goodness, no!” you chime playfully, lifting your watch to see the hour; 5:39. “it’s too early for me, but asahi and makoto are about to start summer camp for their club — i’d only been seeing them off today.”

he offers an understanding nod, similarly recalling the days of his youth where he’d also attended summer camps during elementary through high school. right now, he considers would be a perfect time to end this conversation and see himself away now that he’s heard what he wanted from you, but something in him urges him to stay, to talk to you more and spend some time with you. he knows he’s not the best at small talk, is all too aware that his social skills are terrible, at their worst, incredibly abysmal, but he wants to try — against his better moment, and he’s reminding himself all the while that you’re a mother and a married woman, but despite that, he wants to talk more with you. perhaps, and it’s a delusion that he forces himself to believe, he’d want to be friendly with you. it’ll certainly be easier than perpetually avoiding you when you’d done nothing wrong to him, after all.

“are you—” fuck, his voice sounds scratchy as he clears his throat, blush creeping over his cheeks. “are you um… headed back to bed then?”

as you ponder his question, he gets to take in your morning appearance. your hair’s been brushed and tied back with a little white bow, and your lips look air brushed and as soft as rose petals. hugging your sides beneath your cardigan, you shiver, and wakatoshi notices the way you slightly lean back and forth on your heels. “i guess it’d be a waste to try and sleep again now,” you hum with your gaze turned towards the horizon, where the sun begins to peak over the far off mountain on soft blue touched by golden hues. “i’ll need to be ready for work in a few hours.” you turn your gaze to him with a cheekish grin, and his heart skips a beat. “why not start my morning now, right?”

oh. oh, this is bad. for the second time, waktoshi tries to clear his throat with a hand covering his mouth and averts his eyes from your beaming face. “i’ll let you get to it then,” he says, his voice sounding so small and timid to him that he feels his mind reeling and his tongue turning heavy. “enjoy the rest of your morning, ms. (l/n).”

“thank you, ushijima-san! you do the same, okay?” for a second, he lets his eyes find yours, and they dazzle him within just that moment that he has to look away. he leaves as you re-enter your home, and it’s the only thing he can do to squeeze the straps of his bag to rid himself of the jittery feeling racking through his spine. his heart beats too loudly and he feels dazed, as if he walks on clouds and forgets how to even breathe.

he doesn’t— no, he can’t be; his feet break from the slow pace as he breaks into a jog, each muscle within him burning cold and begging for release from the thoughts in his mind. there’s no way… he doesn’t like you, does he? why else would he have dreamt of you the way he had? why else would he feel so nervous and timid when you stand face to face? the morning dew tastes like liquid mercury and sets through his veins on a violent rush as he runs, as far away from you as he can get, hoping to immediately expel you from his thoughts, to escape this hold that you seem to have locked around him.

he laughs at himself, helpless and bewildered; is he really nothing more than a foolish boy? at thirty-something years old, ushijima wakatoshi is developing a crush on his married neighbour — even the mere notion to him is so adamantly ridiculous that he could throw himself off a bridge. he feels embarrassed, utterly and completely mortified, and it’s for his sake that he tries to push the notion far, far away, so that, at least for the day, he wouldn’t have to think about it. he suppresses these budding epiphanies in the face of his teammates, who tease him for being seven minutes later than he usually is and tries to ignore the fact that it’s all because he’d stayed and talked with you. he tries to forget about you through the drills and practice rounds, lets the heavy beating of his heart turn its turmoil into adrenaline and sweat that seeps through his thin shirt. wakatoshi falls into routine and this time, certainly, this time, he’s moved on. the feelings that soaked through his core on the early morning’s dawn have disappeared and melted away on summer’s blistering heat, and he thinks that finally, he can let go of that ghost that’s haunted him from the night until morn.

but noon, as it always does, succeeds the dawn, and there you are.

the burn in his muscles turns to a seething fire that he fears will consume him right where he stands, amidst the people around him going about their days while he remains glued in place. his heart, oh the poor thing, it beats on the fallings of a thousand horses and threatens to rip right from between his rips and spill itself out on the pavement. wakatoshi wants to run, he wants to take flight and escape into the burning sun, but his feet fail him on the jolts that run through his aching muscles when your eyes, oh, he imagines he sees the world in them, find his amidst the sea that threatens to swallow him whole.

“ah? mr. ushjimima!” your voice calls out to him a surprise he thinks he feels on tenfold as you approach the man. god, how many hours has it been, even? he’d only just seen you this morning, isn’t it too soon for him to be put through this never-ending crisis? he doesn’t feel as if he’s ready, as if he can look you in the eyes while trying to force away the memories of last night, or the turbulent mess that dances and ties red knots around his throbbing heart. “i didn’t expect to see you here too.”

neither did i, he thinks helplessly, though he offers a single words that sounds choked up in his throat, “practice.”

“oh!” you chime, your eyes gazing behind him to where the large sports gym stays only so many paces behind — if he really wants, wakatoshi could easily pretend that he has to return if only to escape from you, but he doesn’t — for some incomprehensible reason, his tongue betrays him with the phantom taste of you.

“well,” you smile, and laughter spills from your lips as you tuck your hair behind your ear and meet his eyes from behind your lashes. “i didn’t think i’d see you again so soon — and at my place of work, no less.”

i didn’t think i would, either, wakatoshi thinks to himself, and then your words rewind in his mind and everything halts. your place of work? the question spills from his lips before he can even think to stop it. “you work here?”

you nod with a hum, gesturing with your palm to the academic buildings that span the expansive lot. “i teach vocal composition and contemporary piano courses here.”

“ah.” of course. wakatoshi is bewildered; how unlucky could he be? for the married woman he fantasized about to be working at the very same university that his team frequents for volleyball practice? he takes a moment to curse the heavens and the cruel gods within them because certainly, they must find humour in his agony.

like lasers, wakatoshi’s eyes become too hyperfocused on you all at once. there’s sweat gleaming down your neck and dipping between your breasts and trailing wet marks down your v-line as you, absentmindedly, fan at yourself. he takes in the way your eyes scrunch together and your lips part with a heavy breath, a sigh that, to his ears, sounds lewd and filthy, and on that single breath, his world runs like a viscous furnace. he’s like a moth drawn to each and every detail about you that swells on the summer’s heat and as he stands here, everything consumes him — the slight pout of your full, puffy lips, the display of your breasts that look so big that they could pop out of your low button up dress at any second, those big, doe-like eyes of yours that are so close to rolling back beneath the agonizing heat — every bit of you accords into a vision of immeasurable pleasure and lust, and then you look at him, head tilted back and panting ever so slightly, and it’s enough and too much all at the same time.

“it’s awfully hot today, isn’t it, mr. ushijima?”

wakatoshi thinks he’ll lose his mind.

something breaks like a faucet and pours scalding water all over himself as he feels his grey sweats becoming too tight, too confining, just like the situation he finds himself in and he decides that now would be the perfect time to leave. “i have to head back.” he nearly stutters over his abrupt sentence, and he sees the slightly startled look that comes over your sun kissed face. again, he feels guilty for fooling you, for lying straight to those innocently pure eyes that are none the wiser of the effects you have on him. in a pathetic attempt that he doubts you’ll even believe, he tries to dissuade you with a simple, yet suffocated, “practice is gonna start soon.”

“oh, of course!” his lie seems to work, and wakatoshi hopes that the relief that locks inside his throat isn’t too obvious as you turn your feet to the opposite direction. “i didn’t mean to hold you up, i’m so sorry!”

“no, it’s alright.” it’s not, but what is he supposed to say? “i’m sure you’ll need to prepare for your next class soon.”

you giggle, hiding your smile behind your hand, and your eyes crinkle at the corners. “you’re right. it was a very nice surprise to see you again, mr. ushijima!”

as he makes his pathetic escape, wakatoshi prays that you don’t find him weird after this, but perhaps if you’d have any inclination of what he’d done, what he’s about to do, would you look at him in disgust? of course you would — he asks himself, how could you not? his feet can’t take him to the secluded gym fast enough as he forsakes everything about himself, purely fueled now by this burning desire that’s carnal in its awakening. the bathroom door locks and the bolt slams with a loud click, the ac languidly blowing through this confined area not nearly enough to quell the fire blazing across his skin. it’s immoral and utterly deprived what he considers doing, and the shame he feels is bound to be an eternal scar. yet in this moment, with his cock so painfully hard and pressing uncomfortably against his thigh, leaking so much precum that it stains through the thick material of his shorts, wakatoshi doesn’t care — not for the ungodliness of the act he’ll commit, nor for the consequences that could follow him. not now, at least. as he releases his throbbing member from its binds and wraps his fists around it, it’s the farthest thing from his mind as he thinks about you. again, it’s you.

the wind in his lungs is knocked out from his mouth as he rapidly pumps his dick. in an instant, the empty bathroom is filled with the squelching noises that bounce and echo off the tiled walls, only contested by his laboured breaths and groans. his knees threaten to lose their ground, and he desperately clutches the cold edge of the sink, the chill consuming his palm almost jarring to the aggressive heat that pours all through him. the image of you with your head tilted towards the sky, of your lips hanging open on salacious cries of his name as he envisions you on top of him, it all drives him to the brink of insanity.

wakatoshi thinks of your body in that tight button up dress blue dress. he thinks of how elegant and put together you looked, the picture perfect woman, and how he wants to tear apart only the top pins open and let your breasts fall out so that he could take them between his lips. how would you sound, he wondered, if he rolled your nipples between his teeth, sucked on them with his tongue until they’d turn hard and perky? would you cry out his name just like you always do? would that sweet voice of yours sing out on torrential pleasure as you’d call out to him, your thighs squeezing around his waist while your hips buck and wriggle over his cock? that innocent façade you wear, how quickly could he make you abandon all reason for desire, until you begged him with your words of honey for him to destroy you?

his fantasy falls apart and rips through him like a comet as cum explodes from his throbbing member and spills through his fingers, ever so narrowly missing his pants and spurting out on the tiled floors. it’s non-stop, this horrible, horrible mess that keeps on growing, his body jolting and knees feeling weak and he struggles to hold himself up because he can’t stop coming, so consumed in his fantasy that the moans he fought so hard to contain now ring freely inside the empty bathroom as his hand continues to milk every drop that jolts out of him. you’re the only thing in his mind, consuming him with hellfire as pleasure winds him up and tears him apart over and over again, and he knows he needs to stop, he’s being too loud, too careless, he could get caught, but god, does this taboo feel so good that he loses control. his depraved mind wonders on you catching him, cumming all over his hands like a depraved beast, all because of you?

there’s a daze that overcomes wakatoshi, heat fading to a warmth that fights for some kind of structure to hold on to as he, breathlessly, leans over the sink. his eyes look down between his legs, the length of his cock still twitching in his palm and cum smeared around it and webbing along his fingers. it doesn’t yet come to him, the reality of what he’s done, and its awakening is slow and steady, until it crashes all around him with the last wisps of adrenaline trickling out of his system. for a long time, he stares at his hands, at the mess smeared in his palm and all over his pants, and he meets his stare in his reflection. he stares, but doesn’t comprehend as a minute becomes two, and then five, and when it’s been far beyond ten, his body flushes over with red-hot embarrassment as he clenches his teeth and drops his head.

wakatoshi, filled with shame, wishes he could throw himself into the sun.

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zoesblogsposts · 10 months ago

Text

o 625 words to know in your target language o

There is a really interesting blog called "Fluent Forever" that aids foreign language learners in tricks, tips and techniques to guide them to achieving fluency "quickly" and efficiently. One of the tricks is to learn these 625 vocab words in your target language, that way you have a basis to start delving into grammar with ease as you can understand a lot of vocab right off the bat. Plus this list of words are common across the world and will aid you in whatever language you are learning. Here is the list in thematic order

• Animal: dog, cat, fish, bird, cow, pig, mouse, horse, wing, animal

• Transportation: train, plane, car, truck, bicycle, bus, boat, ship, tire, gasoline, engine, (train) ticket, transportation

• Location: city, house, apartment, street/road, airport, train station, bridge hotel, restaurant, farm, court, school, office, room, town, university, club, bar, park, camp, store/shop, theater, library, hospital, church, market, country (USA,

France, etc.), building, ground, space (outer space), bank, location

• Clothing: hat, dress, suit, skirt, shirt, T-shirt, pants, shoes, pocket, coat, stain, clothing

• Color: red, green, blue (light/dark), yellow, brown, pink, orange, black, white, gray, color

• People: son, daughter, mother, father, parent (= mother/father), baby, man, woman, brother, sister, family, grandfather, grandmother, husband, wife, king, queen, president, neighbor, boy, girl, child (= boy/girl), adult (= man/woman), human (# animal), friend (Add a friend's name), victim, player, fan, crowd, person

• Job: Teacher, student, lawyer, doctor, patient, waiter, secretary, priest, police, army, soldier, artist, author, manager, reporter, actor, job

• Society: religion, heaven, hell, death, medicine, money, dollar, bill, marriage, wedding, team, race (ethnicity), sex (the act), sex (gender), murder, prison, technology, energy, war, peace, attack, election, magazine, newspaper, poison, gun, sport, race (sport), exercise, ball, game, price, contract, drug, sign, science, God

• Art. band, song, instrument (musical), music, movie, art

• Beverages: coffee, tea, wine, beer, juice, water, milk, beverage

• Food: egg, cheese, bread, soup, cake, chicken, pork, beef, apple, banana orange, lemon, corn, rice, oil, seed, knife, spoon, fork, plate, cup, breakfast, lunch, dinner, sugar, salt, bottle, food

• Home: table, chair, bed, dream, window, door, bedroom, kitchen, bathroom, pencil, pen, photograph, soap, book, page, key, paint, letter, note, wall, paper, floor, ceiling, roof, pool, lock, telephone, garden, yard, needle, bag, box, gift, card, ring, tool

• Electronics: clock, lamp, fan, cell phone, network, computer, program (computer), laptop, screen, camera, television, radio

• Body: head, neck, face, beard, hair, eye, mouth, lip, nose, tooth, ear, tear (drop), tongue, back, toe, finger, foot, hand, leg, arm, shoulder, heart, blood, brain, knee, sweat, disease, bone, voice, skin, body

• Nature: sea, ocean, river, mountain, rain, snow, tree, sun, moon, world, Earth, forest, sky, plant, wind, soil/earth, flower, valley, root, lake, star, grass, leaf, air, sand, beach, wave, fire, ice, island, hill, heat, nature

• Materials: glass, metal, plastic, wood, stone, diamond, clay, dust, gold, copper, silver, material

• Math/Measurements: meter, centimeter, kilogram, inch, foot, pound, half, circle, square, temperature, date, weight, edge, corner

• Misc Nouns: map, dot, consonant, vowel, light, sound, yes, no, piece, pain, injury, hole, image, pattern, noun, verb, adjective

• Directions: top, bottom, side, front, back, outside, inside, up, down, left, right, straight, north, south, east, west, direction

• Seasons: Summer, Spring, Winter, Fall, season

• Numbers: 0, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20 21, 22, 30, 31, 32, 40, 41, 42, 50, 51, 52, 60, 61, 62, 70, 71, 72, 80, 81, 82, 90, 91, 92, 100, 101, 102, 110, 111, 1000, 1001, 10000, 100000, million, billion, 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, number

• Months: January, February, March, April, May, June, July, August, September, October, November, December

• Days of the week: Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday

• Time: year, month, week, day, hour, minute, second, morning, afternoon, evening, night, time

• Verbs: work, play, walk, run, drive, fly, swim, go, stop, follow, think, speak/say, eat, drink, kill, die, smile, laugh, cry, buy, pay, sell, shoot(a gun), learn, jump, smell, hear (a sound), listen (music), taste, touch, see (a bird), watch (TV), kiss, burn, melt, dig, explode, sit, stand, love, pass by, cut, fight, lie down, dance, sleep, wake up, sing, count, marry, pray, win, lose, mix/stir, bend, wash, cook, open, close, write, call, turn, build, teach, grow, draw, feed, catch, throw, clean, find, fall, push, pull, carry, break, wear, hang, shake, sign, beat, lift

• Adjectives: long, short (long), tall, short (vs tall), wide, narrow, big/large, small/little, slow, fast, hot, cold, warm, cool, new, old (new), young, old (young), weak, dead, alive, heavy, light (heavy), dark, light (dark), nuclear, famous

#second language #language #learning #rory gilmore #smart #tips

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therealvinelle · 4 months ago

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When was the first moment you realized you were fluent in English?

Love the question, but there haven't been any such moments for me, only assumptions that I sucked in the past followed that are disproven by finding out I didn't. For instance, I thought my early ventures into fanfiction.net were a haven of poor English. Except, when I looked at my old account, I found I really hadn't been.

Case in point, the first ever review I left on a fanfic. I was 12 (and... well-intended...):

I love this! But could you please update Black and Red, too? I have become adicted to both stories...

Perfect syntax and grammar, but you'll notice the typo. Oh the days without spellcheck, "addicted" not being a word that I saw frequently enough to have memorized (other difficult words, like "hilarious", or "insanity" are correctly spelled. Yes, yes I was mostly reading crackfic).

It provides a fun window into how I learned the language, and confirms that I was learning from what I consumed. Actual proof I have fanfiction to thank for much of my English!

Except when I started conversing with @theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin, some years later, I actually struggled a lot with formulating my replies because I hadn't written that much English outside school context in ages at the time. There was a real language barrier on my end, while Muffin assumed I was a native speaker (Which of course had me assuming my English prior to speaking with Muffin as much as I do now must have been terrible, and being subsequently shocked when I saw my 12-year-old self's proficiency).

Cut to academic Vinelle trying to read scientific papers, and turns out fluency isn't all it's cracked up to be because this sure is easier in Norwegian. Academic Vinelle also researches differences in how proficient 2nd language learners process language - it's different from how native speakers do it, always will be different, and I've had a few "... but I do that!" moments when reading about things proficient language learners do differently from native speakers.

Language fluency is a winding road, is what I'm saying, you don't so much learn until you're fluent so much as you learn enough to become a happy vagabond, meandering around with enough skill to get by and picking up new things when you least expect to.

(As a sidenote, my early reviews are plagued with me being frequently rude, being a clueless 12-year-old, which is a good reminder to not be too upset when readers are rude because they might be babies on the internet. God, do I want to apologize to so many of those authors on my review history page, and the worst is that baby Vinelle had no idea you shouldn't say "Normally I hate it when the characters are being weird and OOC (If that's what you can call Sweeney's state of mind right now) but this time it's really amusing!" to someone you're trying to be nice to. Christ.)

#about me #language learning

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ax-y10 · 1 year ago

Note

this is an incredibly self-indulgent request, but maybe a reader who has a speech impediment and feels insecure about their voice and wilbur being all soft and fluffy about it ??

Love Through Jumbled Words

In which- It's hard to understand you, but Wilbur finds ways

Definition of a speech impediment: Speech disorders or speech impairments are a type of communication disorder in which normal speech is disrupted. This can mean fluency disorders like stuttering, cluttering or lisps. Someone who is unable to speak due to a speech disorder is considered mute.

Chapter Info: Stuttering, Fluff, Wilbur being a soft man, Cuteness, I'm too lazy to look through for anything else

A/n: I had no clue what a speech impediment was, and when I searched it up, I realised I have a speech impediment (stuttering) so I have to write this with a reader who stutters because I sadly can't relate to anything else, sorry. I also decided to do a platonic and romantic version separate with a short blurb at the bottom of each. This is long so sorry

Pronouns: None (You/Yours)

Masterlist:

Platonic (Friend)-

When Wilbur first started talking to you, he immediately realised that he would have to help you through many things, such as ordering food or talking to other people.

And when you trusted him enough to open up, he found out that you had always had problems with things like that, stuttering through every sentence.

And that exact moment is when he opened up about his stutters from kindergarten and primary school, and how he overcame them, offering to help you through yours.

When he introduced you to his friends, they would make light-hearted jokes about your small stutters, but would immediately apologise and call it cute.

Especially when you tried to introduce yourself and got really frustrated while trying to state your name, them obviously being great people and waiting for you.

And they definitely got pissed off at Wilbur when he tried to help, even though you were getting through it, them not knowing that you had asked him to help.

And Tommy (That fucking jerk) would have already had a nickname for you when he heard you through that very first discord call on Wilbur's account.

They obviously loved you from when they met you.

And introducing Wilbur to your closest friends would be an experience... to say the least.

The first comment one of them made was "Is he your boyfriend? Y/N WITH A BOYFRIEND?"

And oh my god did that start an argument between everyone.

But you brushed the comment off... After laughing at Wilbur's shocked expression.

They loved him to say the least

Okay- they adored the lanky bastard -but don't talk about that

Everyone was so welcoming for Wilbur, and he loved your friends.

And helping you get through it was so tough but you guys got it, through months of therapy and practice.

As he sat down across from you at the coffee shop, he realised just how shy you were. One of his friends had given him your number from college, and he had asked you to meet up at the coffee shop down the road from campus. You both hadn't talked to each other in person, which definitely made communication hard. And when you greeted yourself, stuttering through it, he realised how hard it would be to understand you. But luckily for you, he had such a large amount of patience and understanding, having had the same problem as a child.

Platonic (Sibling)-

Him being your older brother, there was definitely going to be so much overprotectiveness in that household.

He wouldn't let anyone near you who decided to make even the most light-hearted joke that you didn't care about, near you.

Like, he would beat them up if they did that

He doesn't care. His Y/n needs to be safe and out of harms way because you are way too special to him

And the funniest part of the whole situation was that he is only 1 year older than you, making it seem weird but it's cute because he cares for you so much.

He is always next to you or helping you throughout conversations or even saying something simple.

When you were both in school, he would beg for the principal and his teachers to sit in class with you to make sure you were doing alright.

Although he was the same age as lots of your classmates, you were still a grade below him.

And everyone in your classes loved him so much.

He was always a sort of underdog in school, so having that attention from other students definitely boosted his confidence and ego, and he got a lot more popular with the younger students, often helping them out at after school events.

He also got into being a bit more mischievous in school, that making him more popular

He would never forget to help you with anything at all.

They were the reason he asked your parents if he could do sports with you, because the kids that liked him were your friends, and you played sports with them.

He definitely didn't join because he wanted to help with your stutters and to boost his ego more...

He was always the kindest person with other people.

"Excuse me, miss?" He asked the principal. He never really learnt teachers names, calling them 'miss' or 'sir', but he had a question nagging at the back of his head for weeks, and he couldn't hold it in any longer. "What's the matter, Mister Soot?" The principal replied with a somewhat annoyed tone, him jumping back slightly. "Would it be alright if I was able to sit in with some of my sister's classes? She has a stutter and struggles with communicating with people and I feel really bad not being there for her. Even if it's once a week. Anything works. Please?" After a little while of pondering from the principal, his hopes lowering from each passing second of silence, she finally speaks up. "Fine. But you need to let your teacher know when you're going to her classes, and you need to attend at least two out of the four lessons you have each day." He was finally excited for once today, and you could tell wen he stumbled into your second lesson of the day, him sitting in the seat next to you and immediately helping you.

Romantic (Relationship) -

When he first had a conversation with you that night in the parking lot of Tesco's, and when you both exchanged numbers that night, he knew it would take time to overcome your stutter or at the very least, die it down a little but.

But he would never push anything onto your shoulders.

Your very first date was definitely the fluffiest thing ever. It wasn't so public as others would definitely recognise him, and you had openly told him about your insecurity with your stutter, so he decided to keep it inside the comfort of his apartment dining room, a cute spaghetti date.

After each bite, you would both look up at each other and when you attempted to make small talk, he would be so patient with your stutters, just admiring you and the way you got so frustrated when you kept repeating vowels.

Now, we all know this man is very touchy and loves affection

So you better be prepared for hugs everytime you get a sentence correct without a stutter or interruption

Even if it was as simple as your first "I love you" without a stutter, he would be all over you (not in the weird wat obv), and smothering you in affection, so proud of your progress.

He would definitely kiss you if you aren't able to finish a sentence after repeatedly trying to complete it, giving you a fresh start, and making you stutter even more due to the sudden affection, and he would keep doing it until you just couldn't bother talking.

Anytime you would try to talk to him when tired and in bed next to him, he would just stare at your lips while you attempt to talk to him, but falling asleep and not being able to get your statement out

And it would be so hard to complete a sentence when tired because your stuttering would just get worse, but to him, you would just get cuter.

If you ever asked his friends about how much he talks about you, they wouldn't be able to count it in their head, Wilbur would have to explain.

And everytime he talks about you, it would always somehow bring up your cute stutter, and how he loves it when you aren't able to form a string of words, and him having to end up ordering food for you.

He just loves you and helping you through your stutter and your stutter and your cute frustrated hand movements and your stressed eyes when you aren't able to get a food order out at a restaurant and when you're embarrassed when you have to talk to a fan of his and keep failing.

he loves every part of you and your cute self.

And he would just be so patient with you when you are trying to say something important to you, like when you want to go somewhere with him the next day, or what to eat for dinner, or anything in general.

Anyway, he just loves every part of you.

"And I- I sa- saw the cute- st little kitt- tte- kitten today on the stre- street and I took a ph- photo of i- it for you and I- I want to sho- show you bef- befor- before we go t- to bed?" You stuttered out tiredly. He didn't reply, but just kept staring at your face, illuminated by the moonlight shining through the blinds of your shared bedroom. "D- Darling?" "Oh yeah, I'd love to see the photo. I just love cats, but not as much as you" He spoke, causing you to chuckle slightly. You pulled your phone off the charger from behind you, unlocked it and pulled up the photo to show him, a cute little ash grey kitten right in front of his face on the screen. And soon after the conversation slowly died down, he realised you had fallen asleep. Pulling you closer into him, he fell asleep not too long after.

#wilbur soot #wilbur soot imagine #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot fic #wilbur soot x you #wilbur #wilbur imagines #wilbur soot headcanons #wilbur headcanons #wilbur x reader #wilbur x you #wilbur fic #speech impediment #request #tommyinnit #wilbur just being a scrunkly little guy #but speech impediments are so cute #I told my friends to fuck off while i wrote this /j

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rxqueenotd · 1 year ago

Text

The Girl Next Door part VI

Pairing: Jeryd Mencken x OFC

Warnings: sexual content, dubious content, age gap, alcohol consumption, mentions of drug use, affairs, my improper use of commas.

A/N: alright alright alright, we’re getting into the thick of things. Thanks to @vivalafae and @runningwiththefoxes for their spiritual guidance. Still shocked so many of y’all have stuck around this long! Love you allllll xo

WC: 2964

For the next two days, we kept our distance. I imagined I had frightened him off with my intensity. My propensity to feel things so deeply had spilled over from my brooding teenage years, maring my early twenties like ink bleeding from one page to the next.

“Have you always been so sullen?” He asked later on that second day when I stared at him blankly from my seat across from him at his dining room table.

A simple text from him had pulled me to my feet and towards his back door. Mistresses don’t use the front door, I told myself. Pavlov would’ve loved me. Freud would’ve had a field day with me.

“Have you ever had an affair before?”

He shook his head, laughing sarcastically as he ran his fingers through his hair.

“Curiosity killed the cat, Olive.”

“But satisfaction brought it back, Jeryd.”

“No,” he sighed, “you’re my first.”

“That doesn’t make you feel any better, though, does it?”

I shook my head.

“It’s hard to believe a man is telling the truth when you know that you would lie if you were in his place.” I said, wondering where this place of courage and effortless fluency was coming from.

“Be that as it may, I have no reason to lie to you.” He offered, continuing on as he searched my face, “Do you want to be my wife, Olive? Is that what this is about?”

I shook my head at him. “You mistake my guilt and curiosity as flattery.”

“I could tell you everything about me and that still wouldn’t change the fact that I’m married, Olive.”

“I know.”

_________________________________________

“I can’t believe you’re trying to pull off this whole ‘I don’t care’ thing. You care. Big time.”

I stopped in my tracks, slamming the filing cabinet closed as I glowered at him.

I had been silent since seeing him again. Existing in the space of professionalism, treading lightly for fear my emotions might disrupt the status quo two days away had provided.

He smiled at me from his spot behind his desk.

“You’re right, maybe I do care,” I stepped closer to him as his eyes glimmered with the satisfaction of knowing what I was about to unleash on him.

“Maybe I’m curious and maybe I feel guilty. Maybe I am sullen. But that doesn’t excuse the fact that you long to elicit these types of reactions from me,” I stepped closer to his desk, feeling my breath hitch as he ran a lone finger across the hem of my skirt, “That this entire thing is just a game to you. One that I will eventually get tired of playing.”

I leaned down closer to him and looked directly into his eyes.

“I can leave, Jeryd. But you can’t. You’re stuck in a marriage and a mortgage,”

He stood up to his full height, smiling down at me devilishly as I willed myself to continue, “You’re stuck here in hell right along with me and if you want to continue to play this fucking game with me, this sick cat and mouse, emotional foreplay extravaganza we’re dancing through, then you need to recognize that everything is personal with you. That you’ve made it that way.”

“You don’t look at someone the way you look at me without it being personal.” My voice was small as I backed away from him, grabbing my bag and coffee cup off the windowsill before making my way to exit his classroom.

A few quick strides and he had me trapped between him and the classroom door. He remained silent, his eyes boring holes into mine as he grabbed my face roughly and kissed me.

Despite all my efforts to remain composed, I became pliant under his hands. That’s a theme with me, after all, one my therapist would gnash into years down the road.

The sound of my heels scuffing rhythmically against the gritty linoleum as he bent me over his desk was enough cause for him to hoist me up onto the desk, climb on top of me, and fuck me like he would never see me again, like he was scared I might disappear.

His disregard for consequences, the pleasure he derived from my turmoil, and little regard for my idle threats made me cum harder than I ever had before.

_________________________________________

After his second class of the day, he found me sitting in the cafeteria, flanked by a group of students, all male, ranging from tall to short.

One in particular, a lean brunette on the shorter end of the spectrum with long brown hair, stared at me with such intensity that I had to hold back laughter each time he looked at me.

“I play guitar in a band,” he said as he sipped his Arizona tea, “You should come check us out one day.”

He crunched a chip and upped the ante.

“I can give you my number.”

I nodded along and smiled awkwardly, making eye contact with Jeryd as he sipped his coffee, one hand tucked in his pocket, relishing in my torment as I squirmed and looked for an out.

The rest of the group stared blankly at me and I wondered if I needed to get up and do some sort of trick with the expectant looks covering their faces.

I sighed in relief as I saw Jeryd making a beeline for the table.

“Hey everybody,” he clapped his hand on my shoulder and I turned around to look up at him, “Can I borrow Liv for a second?

“Of course,” the guitarist smiled up at us as I stood and collected my things, but being the pain in the ass he seemed to be, he had to ask questions.

“How do you guys know each other?”

“Us?” I glanced over at Jeryd, “Professor Mencken has been a friend of my family’s for years. Almost like an uncle to me. He agreed to let me come help out with things given my affinity for all things political.”

“Yep,” Jeryd stepped over to stand next to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. “She’s a good egg.”

He guided me through the labyrinth mazes of the cafeteria, out a side door, and into an outdoor corridor connecting the cafeteria with a breezy courtyard.

“‘A good egg’?” I scoffed up at him, walking quickly to keep up with his brisk pace.

“‘Almost like an uncle to me’?” He mimicked my disgust. “Now that was personal.”

_________________________________________

As if things weren’t already personal and confusing enough, I ran into him and his mother at the beach the next day.

It was low tide that day. Heather and I had made plans to scour the sand for sea glass and any sort of trinkets she could incorporate into the nautical theme at The Marina.

What I didn’t predict, however, was Heather blowing me off last minute, leaving me feeling somewhat desolate and unlikable, not taking into account how many times I’d blown her off over the course of a week so I could pine for my neighbor.

I dug my feet deeper into the sand, twiddling the strap of my bikini top between my forefinger and thumb as my other hand waded blindly across the sand. I laid there as the clouds unfurled themselves to me, their formations pillowy and soft, doing my best to decipher their shapes as they drifted by.

Suddenly, my vision was occluded by patchy shades of brown and black. I sat up quickly, coming face to face with the biggest fucking dog I had ever seen in my life. A Doberman, the size of a miniature pony, licked a clean stripe from my mouth to the bridge of my nose. It sat back on its heels and looked at me with the same confusion I was looking at it with.

“He doesn’t bite.” A familiar voice rang out behind me.

I reached my hand out cautiously and the dog, whose bone shaped tag read ‘Jackson’, licked the tips of my fingers curiously.

“My mom’s dog,” He told me, motioning back to where his mother struggled to walk in the sand due to the height of her wedged sandals.

“He doesn’t bite!” She called out to me.

“Yeah, she got the memo,” He looked down at me as if to say “shoot me, please,” and I smiled up at him.

I stood up, dusting the sand off of my shoulders and shorts as his mother finally came wobbling up to us.

She glanced up and down at my figure, seemingly appraising me, before she spoke, “Aren’t you a dish?”

“Thanks?” I laughed nervously. I could feel my cheeks turning red.

Once again, Jeryd’s eyes widened and he sighed heavily through flared nostrils.

“Jill Mencken,” she offered her hand as her caftan billowed in the breeze.

“Liv Luciano.” We shook hands. She seemed to be trying to figure me out.

“This is Jackson,” she reached down and cooed to the dog who ate it up, “Jeryd’s brother.”

Jeryd, again, looked as if he would rather be anywhere but there at that moment.

“I definitely see the resemblance.”

She swatted Jeryd’s shoulder. “And she’s funny!”

“Why don’t you walk with us?” She offered and my brain went on the defensive, listing every reason why that shouldn’t occur.

“Oh, I couldn’t intrude,” I offered, my attention falling to Jackson to be my buffer at that moment. I scratched behind his ears and he rolled into the sand, rutting back and forth, happily making a mess of his surroundings and perfectly manicured coat.

“If I had done that as a child, she would’ve given me away.” Jeryd looked over at me, giving me a knowing look, easing me out of my mind for a moment.

“I insist,” Jill grabbed my hand, using me as support as her chunky heels disappeared into the sand with each uneven step. I turned around to look at Jeryd as he waited for Jackson to comply and walk along with us.

Eventually, at Jeryd’s insistence, his mother abandoned her shoes, leaving me to walk along the shore at my own pace without her balancing act quite literally dragging me down. She trudged behind, stopping altogether to scoop up a few shells as Jeryd and I continued to walk slowly, side by side.

“She’s fun,” I looked over at him as he nodded.

“She’s, uh, something.” We both turned back to watch as she yelled something about a particular shell she had found.

“Can you swing a few days out of town this weekend?”

We began to walk forward, inching our way back towards the parking lot and adjoining playground.

He leaned forward abruptly, swiping his hand across the exposed part of my stomach, catching me off guard.

“Well, I was going to go with Heather to an art exhibit in the city.”

“Tell her you’ll be busy until Monday.”

“Sounds like a pretty personal thing for you to ask me to do, Jeryd.” I commented, watching as his signature smirk pulled at his lips.

_________________________________________

Jill insisted that I go to lunch with them and that I chose the restaurant. She also insisted that I sit up front with Jeryd, opting to occupy the backseat, holding onto Jackson lovingly as he stuck his head out the window.

“She loves the dog more than me,” He murmured, looking over at me briefly before turning back to the road.

“I do not,” she interjected, playfully smacking at Jeryd’s shoulder, “Don’t listen to him, Liv.”

Seeing him like this, in a dynamic with his mother that was familiar to me, made me feel like I knew him a little better. A glimpse into his life, the one that existed outside of the bounds of our entanglement, provided me with a sliver of hope. Hope for what, I didn’t know, but I felt hopeful nonetheless.

I chose Mirabelle’s, a restaurant adjoined to one of the original inns Stony Brook boasted, mainly so Jackson could join us on the outdoor patio.

I was never a big dog person, but watching Jeryd being walked by a literal miniature horse through the old historic district made me think I could be a dog person. Every few steps, Jackson would jerk him forward and he would scoff in the middle of whatever he was talking about, causing me to bite my bottom lip to stop myself from laughing at how worked up he was over something so small.

“Your dog is an asshole,” He turned around and glared at his mother, causing her to pat his shoulder affectionately.

“Takes one to know one, honey.” She quipped.

Lunch with the two of them was easier than I expected. At first, at least. The conversation took on different topics such as the weather, Jackson’s obedience school progress, Jeryd’s students, and his brother’s upcoming wedding. I happily took the seat of the neutral observer as the two of them chatted idly, occasionally breaking off a piece of rye bread to share with Jackson, who rested between mine and Jeryd’s feet.

It was easy to see the resemblance between mother and son once they were so close to one another. Their flamboyant hand gestures when speaking, the shape of their eyes, the same pale blue irises. They spoke the same way, with that witty, sharp banter.

She turned the conversation to me once she was done catching up with Jeryd, inquiring about what I did for a living, where I had grown up, and what I planned to do after law school. All the while throwing in a casual, “you’re so young and full of life. I was the same way when I was your age,” or “my god, I’d kill to have your skin. I quite literally mean I would kill for that elasticity.”

Between the compliments and inquiries, I would catch her staring at me from the corner of my eye. There was no contempt or malice behind her eyes, more so a curiosity of sorts evident in the way her eyes would bounce from my face to Jeryd’s as he and I spoke casually to one another about a new book I had started reading.

“Do you drink?” Jill asked as she perused the alcoholic beverage menu.

“Usually not before seven PM,” I smiled at her, “but they do have fantastic mimosas here.”

“Mimosas, ah,” she fawned, “A girl after my own heart!”

Jeryd pinched the bridge of his nose and audibly made a noise of discontent.

“I’m not driving Miss Daisy all day for you two sots.”

“Oh, please,” she waved her hand in the air while her other hand dug deep down into the confines of her Birkin bag, “it’s going to take more than a few mimosas to keep me down.”

“Said every alcoholic ever,” He mused with an eye roll.

I watched as she pulled a silver cigarette case from her bag. Her initials emblazoned across the side in deep crimson jewels.

“You smoke?” She asked as she slid a cigarette from the case, struck a match, and lit it, dousing the remaining flame in the remnants of her drink.

“I don’t.”

“Well, you’ll start if you keep hanging out with this one.” She motioned over to Jeryd.

“She’s on a roll today,” he grabbed his drink, eyeing me over the rim of the glass. “Smoking and drinking at lunch. Maybe she will smoke some opium at dinner.”

“Always with the dramatics,” she rolled her eyes at him, “Don’t take it so personally that I want to live the remainder of my life happily.”

“Yeah, Jeryd,” I leaned back in my seat and eyed him cooly, “don’t take it so personally.”

She smiled at me, tilting her head as she followed my eyeline across the table to Jeryd’s, obviously very happy to have someone on her side.

Once the second round of drinks were served and I sipped contentedly on my mimosa, Jeryd excused himself, disappearing into The Inn’s indoor dining room.

Jill turned to me, looked me dead in the eye, and asked, “How long have you two been fucking?”

I nearly choked on my mimosa. I sputtered and felt my face flush hot, covering my mouth with the cloth napkin I had placed over my lap

“I’m sorry,” I shook my head, “What?”

“I’m certainly not blind.” Her face remained blank of any emotion.

“Um, it’s not like that at all,” I wasn’t convincing her. Convincing a grand jury would have been a smaller feat.

“Have things been peaceful next door since she’s been gone?” She asked with careful disdain laced in her cadence. I was taken aback, quite literally clueless as to what she was asking, or rather, what she was implying.

“His wife,” she offered and I shook my head.

“I don’t know. She hasn’t been home since I’ve been back.”

“She runs away when they fight.” She shook her head and drained her glass in one go. “Right back to mommy and daddy when she doesn’t get her way.”

“It’s okay,” she reassured me, “Your secret is safe with me.”

“I don’t have a secret.”

“We all have a secret.” She gave me a knowing look.

I glanced longingly at the door Jeryd had walked through, silently willing him to come back to the table.

“I was Jeryd’s father’s second wife,” she told me, “They always get it right the second time around.”

She didn’t have time to expand on that before Jeryd reappeared, reclaiming his seat next to me. I ate in silence once the food was served, Jill’s words bouncing around my brain like a warped soundtrack. Whatever they spoke about after that was hazy and untuned to me as I focused on what possibilities might come my way given the newfound circumstances that had been brought to light.

Tag list: @aurorag98

#jeryd mencken x oc #jeryd mencken fic #jeryd mencken fanfiction #jeryd mencken x ofc #jeryd mencken x original female character #jeryd mencken #justin kirk

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frenchly-anxious · 2 years ago

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Throwback to my last year of French highschool when a ridiculously large number of my fellow students absolutely bombed the first part of our final English exam because they mixed the verb "to fish" and the noun "fish", making our main character Eddie become a fish that owns an apartment, keeps crusts of bread in a tin pail and nods at the old man fishing on the other side of the river

#their anger at the end of the exam #'who the fuck picked a text about a fish called Eddie??'#'what do you mean it wasn't about a fish?'#'but it said 'Eddie' and 'fish' in the same sentence!'#I laughed so hard #learning a language #learning english #french highschool #road to fluency

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organ-market · 1 year ago

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Bilingual Cinema: Language and Great Representation in Media

Everything Everywhere, All at Once, 2022

One of my favorite little things about living in such a diverse American city on the West Coast is the multitude of languages flowing in and out of my ears as I commute, people watch, or even sit idly in class. Elderly Asian ladies filling a bus with the sound of Vietnamese chatter or blaring music with lyrics woven in Spanish erupting from a truck zooming down the road. While I am only properly fluent in English, I’ve found beauty in the bilingual streets of my home town and am overjoyed to see this same beauty translated onto the big screen as the movies we produce more closely reflect the diverse cultures present throughout America.

There appears to be a growing trend of bilingual movies which heavily feature multiple languages that are baked into the infrastructure of the dialogue. No singular language takes precedence over any other as languages, dialects, and accents all flow together naturally. Americans who previously incessantly whined about subtitles are now sitting in theaters reading subtitles in The Farewell and Everything Everywhere, All at Once which took home Best Picture at the Oscars earlier this year. These bilingual films continue to push the bar of representation as people of color begin to tell their own stories using their own languages.

Stephanie Hsu in Everything Everywhere All at Once, 2022

The Daniels’ 2022 Chinese-American absurdist amalgamation of wildly varying genres, Everything Everywhere All at Once proudly features English, Mandarin, and Cantonese. The film proudly introduces us to a realistic portrayal of an Asian-American family and coaxes us into their family dynamics and larger than life sci-fi story as the movie branches off into much more imaginative territory.

To those of you who haven’t had the pleasure of watching it, (seriously if you haven’t, go see it) the film follows Evelyn, the mother of a Chinese-American family and the struggling laundromat business she runs with husband Waymond while she attempts to reconnect with her daughter Joy. As an exclusively English speaker so much of the nuance of the film’s use of language goes completely over my head but Youtuber Language & Film has uploaded a concise little video on the film’s clever use of language which I wholeheartedly recommend checking out. If anyone wants a more in depth analysis of language’s role in the film, I’ll put a link down below.

What I particularly love about Everything Everywhere All at Once is how unashamed it is of Evelyn’s immigrant narrative. While Evelyn appears at times to be somewhat insecure about her broken English, the film never once equates intelligence with fluency; a vicious mistake Hollywood frequently makes with stereotypical Asian characters. The reason why myself and so many others connected so deeply with the film is just how honest and grounded the portrayal of this family is. Not once does it flatten the characters to the archetypes we commonly see of Asian characters in media, they aren’t the model minority or even a completely cohesive family unit as divorce looms in the back of Waymond’s mind. Despite the business of life and the film itself you can feel the cluttered love of this family throughout its runtime and I was so glad to have been able to hear the mixture of different languages that just adds to the chaos of the household.

Past Lives, 2023

I left with a well of emotions brewing deep in my gut after finishing a viewing of Celine Song’s Korean-American romantic drama, Past Lives, earlier this week. Beautifully shot and written, the romance between two childhood friends is told throughout decades as Nora Moon and Hae Sung weave in and out of each other’s lives. A mix of Korean and English is used throughout the film as Nora becomes more fluent in English after she emigrates and Hae Sung speaks almost exclusively in Korean. Director Celine Song told Polygon “...she [Nora] sounds like a kid when she speaks Korean — because she emigrated when she was a kid, and she only really speaks to her parents in Korean. So it kind of made sense that she spoke Korean in a childlike way.” Little details like this really flesh out the characters and make them seem real, the same language logic is applied to the whole cast as they each have varying levels of fluency in both Korean and English.

Similar to Everything Everywhere All at Once, the film’s bilingualism is informed by its distinct Asian diaspora and is told through the eyes of Nora Moon who moved to Canada at the age of 12 leaving Hae Sung along with her old name Na Young behind in South Korea. When Hae Sung visits Nora in New York much later in the film, after all those decades Nora notes that Hae Sung has all these “Korean views” on everything and that she somehow feels less Korean and at the same time more Korean while being with him all at the same time.

I felt very deeply connected to Nora in this moment, neither of my parents had ever imbued in me the cultural values of my heritage. I am Vietnamese on my mother’s side and Mexican on my father’s. I find myself feeling self consciously Viet around my Vietnamese friends and self consciously Mexican around my Mexican friends but throughout it all a strange Americanized shame persists within me since my parents have been thoroughly white washed. And although it was a small moment in a nearly 2 hour film, I still can’t stop thinking about that confusing, conflicting feeling Nora described regardless.

Los Espookys, 2019

The wonderfully idiosyncratic, beautifully queer Latino comedy show, Los Espookys has spoken dialogue in both Spanish and English and often goes back and forth between A plots in Spanish and B plots in English. Created by Ana Fabrega, Julio Torres, and Fred Armisen, the show itself is about a couple of friends who decide to follow their passions and start a “horror group” performing various oddball tasks with spooky theming. In one episode they manufacture a sea monster sighting to revive tourism in a coastal beach town, in another they create a monster mascot named Bibi’s to teach an elementary class a school lesson. It is simultaneously hysterical and charmingly strange almost constantly.

Los Espookys main cast of characters consists of proud queer goth Latinos, they’re aware their infatuation with horror is a little weird but they never shy away from that and honestly love that about themselves. The only part of their identities that the main characters have trouble with is getting others around them to accept that strangeness into their lives. The show’s original ambitions were to air on a Spanish-language cable channel but when presented to HBO Latino, the team was offered a chance to bring it to HBO’s main channel to a much wider audience and, like the show’s characters, the creators had to find a way for American audiences to let that strangeness into their living rooms. Dave Itzkoff writes in the NY Times that, “...he [Armisen] wanted to create a Spanish show “that isn’t an explanation of Latino culture, that’s moving past the foreignness of it.””

Watching the show itself really impacted me, not only did my lungs hurt from laughing but being able to laugh along with queer Latino goths who had similar queer experiences as me was a real empowering treat. What struck me most, besides the gags, was just how natural this representation was, there are seamless transitions from the English spoken parts in America or the embassy and the parts in the fictitious Latin American country the show is set in. No member of the cast is reduced to a simple trait based on sexual orientation, race, or any other archetype, there is so much personality and life present in each character. Renaldo for example, is aro ace, loves all things horror, hates when people misspell his name, and is incredibly passionate and caring about his friends. Nobody’s sexual orientation nor accents are the focus of any one joke or define them as individuals, it is an overwhelming uplifting show and the bilingual nature of it is just another proud part of the show’s hand crafted identity.

Sr. Bibi's from Los Espookys, 2019

What I really want to hone in on and celebrate about the appearance of bilingual media is how filled with pride these works are, how lovely it is that the media we consume is starting to better reflect the colors, languages, and cultures that populate the world around us. I really can’t recommend Everything Everywhere All at Once enough but I’m sure almost everyone online has already praised it to the moon. Be sure to catch Past Lives while it’s still in theaters because it is a real treat and one of the best movies so far this year. Los Espookys is a total sleeper hit that I fell in love with from episode 1, if I get at least one more person to watch that show I can die happy. I was tempted to lengthen this post with 2019’s Sound of Metal (which I am a little more critical of) which features American Sign Language but I think I’ll save it for a later post since this one is long enough. If anyone wants to recommend any bilingual pieces of fiction whether it be movies, tv, or even games please, by all means, let me know! I’d love to hear all of your recommendations and opinions, keep it real guys.

-Ghost Emoji 👻

Links and Stuff :P

Language & Film Youtube

Past Lives Polygon Article

NY Times Los Espookys Article

#organmart #om-ghostemoji #writing #personal essay #language #movies #film #movie recommendation #tv recommendations #eeaao #past lives #los espookys

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