#how to become fluent in a language without moving

[everythinginmyheart]

Think living abroad is the only way to become fluent in a new language? Our latest blog breaks that myth and gives you real strategies to master any language from home. Unlock powerful tips and start your fluency journey today with My Language Classes.

[mylanguageclasses]

Think living abroad is the only way to become fluent in a new language? Our latest blog breaks that myth and gives you real strategies to master any language from home. Unlock powerful tips and start your fluency journey today with My Language Classes.

[clementinecalls]

mallison au where allison never died and she went off to france with her dad and isaac. and then post-6b when Malia leaves for france, she runs into the both of them and her and allison have a little lesbian romance

[zorosangell]

⛥ﾟ・。 nightgown

synopsis: after two wonderful years with the swordsman, you're reluctant to let him go, especially without telling him how you feel. luckily, he feels the exact same way... and more than accepts your scanty going away present.

cw: part 2/3, nsfw, fluffy fluff, comfort, reader is FIONE, reader is also real as hell, zoro is a fiend, mihawk is such dad, this was so fun to write.

a/n: tagging: @that-b-word-lol @ihatespidersdie I NEED THIS MAN UNDER MY TREE

"C'mon, (y/n), they're not gonna fight if you keep playing with 'em," Zoro sighed, removing his sword from his mouth as he crossed his arms over his chest.

You giggled, unable to fight off your smile as you danced with the humandrills, relishing in their happy snorts and yips as the leader of the gang—Chuki—picked you up and placed you on his shoulder, happily parading you around.

"Sorry," you grinned, clapping with approval as a few of the others performed back-flips and cartwheels to keep your attention. "I was coming out to check on you guys."

Just then, Chuki let out a howl of excitement, wanting to join in on the fun.

Without warning, he launched himself into a somersault, completely forgetting you were on his shoulder and sending you flying.

'Not again...'

Zoro moved like he'd done this a hundred times—which he had—effortlessly shooting himself up and catching you in mid-air, bridal style.

"Every time?" he asked, raising a brow.

"I'm gonna miss this," you chuckled, looping an arm around his neck as he landed.

"The hell are you gonna do when I'm gone?" he carefully put you down, crossing his arms over his chest once again. "I'm not gonna be here to keep you from falling on your face."

You shrugged, turning to Chuki with a wide smile as he gave you a high five, "I guess I'll just have to learn how to land on my own."

"HA!"

The swordsman scoffed, shoulders bobbing with laughter as you snapped your head over to him, less amused.

"The girl who can barely hold a sword? I'd love to see it."

"Hey!"

"Hu hu hua!" Chuki mimicked, turning to you with an incredulous look. "Ooh, ah ah ah, hua!"

"I know right," you agreed, resting a hand on your hip as you glanced at the swordsman. "And smelly, too..."

"WHAT WAS THAT?!"

Gloom Island was known all-throughout the Grand Line as an abandoned island, its kingdoms having brought themselves to utter ruin after years of war.

Your parents had even been drafted, and, of course, killed in the line of duty.

But, by fate or by fortune, you had managed to survive, living through most of your childhood as an orphan in a battle-ravaged kingdom.

Until, eventually, you were the last one standing.

Alone, you searched for any survivors, managing to stumble across a devil fruit along the way before meeting the humandrills.

The Speak-Speak fruit allowed you to become fluent in any language from the moment you heard it spoken aloud—animal language, included.

So, after meeting them on their level, the monkeys took you in, protecting you and treating you as one of their own until Mihawk came along not too long after, taking up the role as your father-figure and mentor.

Naturally, he tried to teach you some swordsmanship, but you lacked... talent, to say the least.

"I've gotten better since the last time we trained together!" you bellowed, proudly, as you picked up a sword, lowering yourself into an offensive stance. "Look!"

"Your posture's off," Zoro noticed, off-rip, "And your feet are too far apart."

Breath hitching, your face glowed with embarrassment, your body practically freezing in place.

'Shit!'

And just as you were trying to prove a point...

"Here," he instructed, getting up behind you and pressing his hand into the small of your back, straightening you up. "Like this."

Your spine shivered at his touch, the thick pads of his fingers practically burning into your flesh, despite the fabric separating them.

"Pull your feet a bit closer... it will firm up your stance... And if you're facing an enemy head on like this, you're gonna want to be upright."

"Okay!" you squeaked, doing your best to make the adjustments without physically combusting.

Carefully, you pulled your feet in shoulder width, and used his hand as a guide to straighten up your posture.

"Good," he commended, his arms suddenly coming around you grab your hands, helping you fix your grip on the sword. "Now when you swing, I want you to step into it."

You felt chills when his hands touched yours, years of work evident in his rough, calloused flesh, which held yours with the gentlest touch.

Turning to glance at him, your eyes came up to meet his once more, telling a story that made you just want to sit down and listen.

You studied his facial features up close—for about the fifty-millionth time—taking note of everything you had come to admire in the last two years.

The slight pink of his tanned lips...

The strength of his jaw...

The faint scar that rested on the tip of his shoulder, not that such a detail could be picked up unless one was really looking.

You felt like the staring going on for ages, but you didn't want to look away, and neither did he.

He, too, was studying your face.

And, deep down, he never wanted to look away.

"Dinner is ready," your father's voice cut through the air, draining all the color from your face.

Instantly, you and Zoro quickly threw yourselves off each other, heat rising to both your faces as you turned away, embarrassed—and slightly scared for the swordsman.

Mihawk fixed Zoro with a sharp glare, sizing him up as if he was some sort of delinquent.

He had been suspicious of you and the swordsman since the moment he arrived, particularly suspect as to why you felt so inclined to help him.

He knew you were a smart girl, and wouldn't disregard everything he had ever taught you about being safe without a valid reason.

A valid reason being a handsome man, in this case.

Still, what was he supposed to expect?

You were a woman now—no matter how difficult it was for him to accept—and women had... needs.

Mihawk shivered at the thought, quickly purging it from his mind as he turned on his heel, power-walking back toward the castle.

Not under his roof...

"Don't dawdle... it'll get cold."

Knock! Knock! Knock!

"Come in," Zoro called, not moving from his spot resting peacefully on his bed, his hands tucked behind his head.

"Happy Going Away/Leaving To Reunite With Your Friends Tomorrow Day!" you smiled, carefully entering his room while holding a plate with a comically large onigiri on top, a sparkler sticking out of it. "I know you don't like cake, so I brought the next best thing!"

Warmed by the display, Zoro sat up, trying and failing to fight the smile rising to his lips as you approached.

'Adorable...'

"(y/n)... you didn't have to do all his," he started, not knowing what to say as you handed him his gift.

"I know that. But I figured you deserved something special to commemorate all the hard work you've done," you nodded, sheepishly. "You put up with my dad for two years... of your own free will... that alone is its own achievement."

Letting out a small chuckle, the swordsman suddenly found his eyes drifting to you, only to be met by your pretty, (e/c) eyes staring down at him, the entire room fading around you two.

He barely believed his eyes as he drank you in—your appearance sinful enough to make the devil sweat.

Instead of your usual long, black dress, you wore a tiny, black nightgown, which accentuated your luscious, curvaceous body and exposed the enticing flesh of your thighs.

You paired the little number with some black pumps, which he bet barely made you taller than him if you were to stand up.

The moonlight pouring in from the window illuminated your skin and glossed up, plump lips at curled into a nervous smile at the sight of him.

Topped off with the sweet silkiness of your voice; the way your body sensually moved; how you smelled of cocoa butter and vanilla.

Quietly, Zoro cursed under his breath, practically reeling.

God, if the last two years were anything, they were a testament to his willpower...

He had never felt this way before.

So distracted.

So obsessed.

You plagued his mind every hour of the day, the thoughts ranging from wholesome to downright scandalous.

Seeing you around the castle, watching the movement of your hips and the graceful slide of your hands, making him feel extremely stiff.

'Christ...'

He tried not to think of you like that.

You were the daughter of his sworn enemy, and a sweetheart, at that...

You deserved a nice guy, one that had a regular life, with a regular job and regular urges.

Not a jaded pirate like himself.

But you were just so damn alluring, he couldn't help himself.

"What do you think you're doing?"

You blinked once, coming out of the trance the man had put you under with a confused raise of your brow.

"Huh?" you asked, dumbly, your mind having turned to mush in the five minutes you were staring at him.

"I said," he pointedly repeated, placing the plate down on his nightstand before standing to his full height, towering over you. "What do you think you're doing?"

Nervous, your manicured hand wrapped around your arm, the swordsman's mind immediately traveling somewhere else.

"I... don't know what you're talking about," you muttered, eyes drifting away from him.

You tried to think quick, scouring your mind for some sort of excuse as he fixed his gaze on you like a predator would his pray.

You knew you couldn't chicken out now.

Especially after all the work you put into getting ready.

"You come in here..." he started, slowly pressing forward, forcing you to step back in order to keep some air between you two. "Dressed like that... just to give me a going-away present?"

You swallowed, thickly, continuing to move backward as he continued to invade your space, his eye cutting you down to size like a cat does a mouse.

"What are you trying to do?"

You turn away slightly, pulling your soft, glossy lip into a nervous bite.

"I just... wanted to look nice... for you," you muttered, resting your hands behind your back.

"Did you, now?" he cocked a brow. "Y'know... after all this time, I think I've finally got you figured out."

With a squeak, your back met the wall, forcing you to stay put as the swordsman caged you in, his muscular body leaving no route of escape.

"I think... you're a sweet girl, who's never met a pirate before, or been allowed outside the confines of this island, that thinks that she can stick it to her father by flirting with the man who is hellbent on taking him down."

Zoro raised a brow, cockily, a teasing smirk rising to his lips.

"How's that? Am I in the ballpark?"

"Hardly," you denied, a small air of confidence returning the wind to your sails.

It caught his attention immediately.

"I may be sweet... and you may be my father's rival... but you forget that I am I woman."

His breath hitched, eye widening slightly as you pulled yourself off the wall, taking your turn to move forward and regain some ground.

"A woman who's been lonely for quite some time... a woman who enjoys your company more than she'd care to admit... a woman who's never had more fun than in the two years you've lived in her house..."

You rested your hand against his chest, the swordsman scared you would feel his heart beating against his rib-cage.

"A woman who's found herself falling in love with the idiot that crash landed on her island..."

Eye wide, Zoro flushed at your boldness, looking away from your intense, (e/c) eyes.

"You don't mean that..." he attempted to rationalize, suddenly unable to comprehend the possibility of you actually liking him.

This had to be a trick.

You were just doing this to piss off your dad...

Right?

You stared at him with hooded eyes, flashing him a bashful, crooked smile that nearly had him melting into the floor.

"If I didn't... do you think I'd be standing here right now?"

The floodgates were opened.

Wrapping an arm around your waist, Zoro roughly yanked you forward, pulling you into his chest as you let out a gasp of surprise.

"You're playing a dangerous game," he warned, holding himself back by the thinnest string of his sanity. "If we do this... there's no going back. And after tomorrow, you won't see me for who knows how long..."

He looked you up and down, giving you a stare that would make any woman weak in the knees.

"You gonna be okay with that?"

Seriously, you nodded, looking up at him with sparkling eyes that nearly set his heart on fire.

"Alright, then... no holding back."

And he took "no holding back" with the utmost seriousness, managing to make you cum three times throughout your night in his room.

The first time was on his couch, coaxing you to bend over and let him massage and spank your soft, jiggly ass, which he swore was heaven sent when he plunged his tongue into your velvety folds, relishing in your soft moans and desperate grinds into his face.

The second time was in his bed, your legs pinned down onto the mattress while he tailed you, his cock plunging in and out of you as his arms wrapped around your body, allowing you to feel safe and comfortable while he dicked you down, feeling feral at the sight of your smooth tummy and soft tits.

The third and last time—because your virgin self simply couldn't take anymore—was when he bent you over and fucked you from behind on the foot of his bed.

His hands held your hips while he leaned over, physically holding you up on your jelly-like legs.

Your hands frantically fisted the sheets as he pounded into you, his firm thighs meeting your ass cheeks as he fucked you like there was no tomorrow.

Because, to him, there wasn't.

"F-Fuck! Oh, my God! Right there!" you sobbed. "Yes, please! Right there!"

He watched your pretty face contort in pleasure, loving how soft you felt pressed against him, and how you sounded moaning from the lips he'd been kissing all night.

"Nuh-uh," he huffed in your ear, leaning down to nip at your lobe. "S'not God that's doin' this, pretty. Who's really makin' you feel good?"

"Zoro!" you moaned, a pitiful whine following after. "H-How are you so good at this?"

He grinned, becoming cocky at seeing you lose your mind on his dick.

"You tell me," he teasingly ordered. "How good am I?"

SMACK!

The sharp sound of his hand connecting with your ass cheek made you let out a harsh groan of pleasure, your pussy clenching around him.

"So good!" you gasped, the sensations too much.

Feeling you tighten around him, Zoro let out a harsh grunt, fighting off the moan ready to leave his lips.

"Christ... body's so fuckin' perfect," he groaned, kneading one of your tits in his calloused hand as he sped up, hitting that spot inside of you that made you see stars. "Look at you... so damn pretty."

"Oh, Zoro! I can't!" you moaned, bottom lip quivering at the coil in your stomach wound tighter and tighter. "I can't...Z-Zoro, m'gunna! M'gunna—!"

"You gonna, gonna what?" he chuckled. "You wanna cum for me again?"

You pathetically nodded, forcing his grin even wider.

"So greedy..."

But so was he.

He would fuck you all night if he could, but he was reaching his limit same as you.

"Cum for me, (y/n)," he ordered, huskily, as he leaned down to your ear, slamming into you harder and you frantically rubbed your clit. "I'm close, too. Rub that little pussy and fuckin' give it to me, baby!"

It doesn't take long for him to blow his load inside of you, flooding you with cum that dripped down your thighs.

His moans of pleasure triggered you, causing your pussy to quiver and flutter around him as you came.

A moan of his name and a few swears left your lips as you rode it out, coating his cock in your sticky juices.

Turning around, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into you in a tender moment of bliss.

Pressing his lips against yours, his hand came up to cup your cheek, the embrace feeling like nothing short of a goodbye.

When your highs finally subsided, Zoro gently pulled out of you, making your pussy spurt out his cum.

The sight nearly made him hard all over again.

'Fuuuuck...'

"Sorry," you groggily apologized, already half asleep as you laid down, your half-lidded, (e/c) eyes still sparkling in the moonlight.

Amused by your fucked out state, he scooped you up, effortlessly, carrying you up to the head of the bed and placing you down among the pillows.

With a yawn, he climbed in with you, stomach faintly fluttering as you rested your head on his chest, nuzzling tightly into his side.

"M'gonna miss you, Zoro," you softly said into the quiet, dimly lit room, "...A lot"

Carefully, he rested his hand on your back, his thumb drawing mindless circles into your skin.

As much as he loved this—your company, your touch, you—he knew that come morning, he would still have to leave.

He had a dream, and an obligation to the family he called his crew.

He couldn't just abandon that.

His brows furrowed, a look of determination settling on his face.

But that didn't mean he couldn't make you a promise.

"I'll come back for you," he stated, plainly, without a doubt in his mind. "When I'm the Greatest Swordsman... and when Luffy's King of the Pirates... I'll come back for you. And I'll take you out to sea, and show you all the places you read about in your books."

Looking up at him, your sleepy eyes sparkled with a glimmer of hope, nearly turning him into a puddle.

"Really?" you asked, adorably.

With a nod, he pecked a soft kiss on your hairline, before leaning back into the pillows.

"Really."

BONUS!!

"Oi, Chuki!" Zoro called as he walked through the ruins, knapsack thrown over his shoulder. "Come out here! I gotta talk to you about somethin'!"

The swordsman had left his room in the wee hours of the morning, managing to wiggle out your grasp and clean himself up before placing a tender goodbye kiss on your forehead, leaving you to sleep.

The previous night introduced some new feelings to him, and if he was going to get a lick of sleep out at sea, he needed to take care of one final thing.

"C'mon! It's about (y/n)!"

At the sound of your name, the large humandrill immediately showed himself, jumping out from behind a stone column with a loud whoop, which sounded eerily like what's wrong.

"With me gone... and with Hawk-Eye on his trips for the Navy... (y/n)'s gonna be on this island all by herself," Zoro started, brows cinched together, seriously.

This was the only thing that was going to quell his worries.

"I don't know what's gonna happen in the next few years, but if any pirates, or even the World Government, come stickin' their noses around this place... you send them flyin', you understand?"

Using the handle of his sword, he pointed toward the castle, where you slept peacefully, safe and secure.

"No one goes near her. No one even makes it to the castle. You fight like your goddamn life depends on it, alright? 'Cause it does."

Surprised, the monkey swallowed thickly, especially when the swordsman's eye landed on him with the harshest glare he had ever seen.

Even harsher than Mihawk's.

"I come back here and find out that she got hurt on your watch... you, and all of your monkey pals, are finished... Understand?"

Frantic, and terrified, Chuki chittered in agreement, rigidly saluting the man for confirmation.

With a proud grin, Zoro nodded, continuing on his trek to the shore as he waved to the baboon, along with the hundred others fearfully watching from the trees.

"Good... I'll see you guys around."

[cami040405]

Vincent Sinclair courting headcannons but the reader does not know asl and tries to, but it’s very hard for her to be interested in it? Maybe they text each other? You can choose the genre

Vincent Sinclair Courting Headcannons

Summary: Vincent Sinclair quietly courts you, you struggle to learn ASL despite wanting to communicate with him. Though frustrated by your slow progress, you continues to try, and you rely on texts, sketches, and small gestures to connect. 

A/N: I loved writing this request, imagining how Vincent Sinclair would communicate with the reader. I found this approach interesting because in my story, Between Art And Silence, Vincent speaks. If you want to check it out, the link is in the text.

When Vincent first starts to court you, he tries to communicate mostly through body language and gestures — soft touches on the arm, a hand held out to guide you somewhere, or leaving little sketches for you to find.

He doesn���t expect you to know ASL at all — in fact, he seems almost guilty or hesitant to use it in front of you, not wanting to make you uncomfortable.

Bo teases him, of course: “Tryin’ to woo someone who can’t even read your love notes, huh?” But Vincent shrugs it off, used to being misunderstood — until you try.

You suggest texting. Vincent doesn’t like technology much, but for you? He adapts.

He keeps his old, beat-up phone charged just so you two can have late-night text conversations. He’s not wordy, but his messages are always careful and intentional.

“Did you eat today?”“You looked sad. Want me to sit with you?”“The stars are out. Thought of you.”

You try. You really do. But ASL doesn’t come naturally to you — the grammar feels strange, and your hands just don’t move the way you want them to.

Sometimes you mess up signs badly enough that he chuckles silently and gently corrects you, guiding your hands with his own, warm fingers. It’s frustrating — not because he’s impatient (he never is), but because you want to understand him better. Still, it’s hard to stay interested when your brain just doesn’t click with it.

Vincent notices right away. He sees the tension in your shoulders, the way your eyes dart away in embarrassment after a failed attempt. He never pressures you. Instead, he starts drawing more — sketching out how he feels, what he wants to say, or what he notices about you. You have an entire drawer full of little drawings he’s made just for you.

Sometimes he’ll use one hand to sign something simple and the other to type it on his phone — a hybrid method that eases the burden for you.

Vincent expresses love in actions: brushing your hair behind your ear, fixing a squeaky cabinet in your room without asking, leaving your favorite tea beside your bed. He sometimes signs I love you slowly, just so you’ll recognize it. Even if you can't respond in ASL, you always press his hand to your cheek, showing that you know. One night, you sign something almost right — “You’re beautiful,” maybe — and he just stares at you like you hung the moon, his face flushing under his mask.

You might not become fluent in ASL, and that’s okay. Vincent never wanted perfection from you. He just wanted your effort — and you gave him your heart, one crooked sign and midnight text at a time.

.

You sat on the edge of the bed, phone in hand, a pit growing quietly in your stomach as you stared at the screen.

Your latest attempt at learning ASL had ended with a migraine and three nearly-broken fingers from accidentally jamming them trying to mimic a video. The app had long been closed. You were done for the night.

The silence in Ambrose was heavy, as always, broken only by the low hum of the cooling fan in Vincent’s workshop down the hall. He had texted you an hour ago:

“Working. Come by when you’re tired. Want you near.”

You had smiled when you saw it. He rarely typed that much.

Still, you couldn’t help but feel like a disappointment. It had been weeks, and you could barely manage the alphabet. Meanwhile, Vincent was patient — too patient — like he knew you’d give up eventually and was already forgiving you for it.

A soft knock on your door.

Not Bo. Too gentle.

You opened it to find Vincent, mask reflecting the faint glow of the hallway light, tall and silent. He held a sketchpad in one hand and his phone in the other. He tilted his head.

“Hi,” you whispered.

He nodded once, then tapped on his phone.

“Can I come in?”

You stepped aside and let him in. He smelled faintly of wax and pine, and the sleeves of his long shirt were pushed up, revealing pale arms marred with old scars and dried streaks of charcoal.

He sat on the floor, cross-legged like always, and you joined him.

You watched his hands carefully as he began to sign something — slow, deliberate. You caught maybe one word. “You…”

“Wait.” You reached for your phone and typed:

“I don’t know what you said. I’m sorry.”

He read it, then looked at you. There was no disappointment in his eyes, no hint of judgment — only that quiet depth he always carried, something heavy and old and kind.

He pulled his sketchpad into his lap and flipped it open.

The drawing was simple — the two of you sitting together, knees touching, your head leaned gently on his shoulder. Your face was wrong — lopsided, eyes too big — but you recognized the moment. It had been three days ago. He’d remembered.

You blinked back the sting in your eyes.

“I’m trying,” you whispered. “I just… it’s hard.”

He nodded. Then, slowly, he lifted his hands and signed something else.

You didn’t get it. Not all of it. Maybe “feel” or “you”. Something about safe. But you couldn’t be sure.

Your hands lifted without thinking. You fumbled to shape a sign you’d practiced — badly — one you hoped you wouldn’t screw up again.

You signed “beautiful”, aiming it toward him.

Vincent froze.

Not like he was offended. More like… stunned. Like he didn’t understand the word could ever apply to him.

He reached slowly and took your hand — large, warm fingers wrapping around yours, guiding them, correcting the shape gently.

You laughed nervously. “I messed it up, didn’t I?”

He shook his head. Then, he signed again — slowly, so you could follow.

“I love you.”

Three motions. You’d seen them before, sure, but never directed at you. Not like this. Not from him.

Your breath hitched.

You didn’t know how to sign it back.

So instead, you leaned forward and pressed his hand to your cheek, closing your eyes.

He held still.

He didn’t pull away.

And in the silence that followed, in the soft weight of his fingers against your skin, you realized that love wasn’t always spoken — not in words, or even in perfect signs.

Sometimes, it was drawn.

Sometimes, it was typed out awkwardly at midnight.

And sometimes, it was felt in the gentle way someone stayed, even when you didn’t know how to say “I love you” the right way.

.

[midnightarcheress]

and they said speak now

we’re meant to combine. to heat each other up, to become one. pairing: simon 'ghost' riley x f!reader cw: angst. no comfort. angry yearning simon. mentions of cheating. reader is part of tf141. no use of y/n. part 1 | part 2

you and Ghost have never been friends.

sure, you are acquaintances, colleagues, teammates. but friends? no. it's more of that weird position where you'd take a bullet for each other if necessary, but would never, ever, stand in the same room without a dense fog of tension circling your bodies, limbs trembling with pent-up unjustified fury.

it's been like this ever since you joined the task force. when Price announced a new member to the group, Ghost silently protested; in his head, four was more than enough people to cover their intricate missions, so making it an odd number would only throw off their balance - in and out of the field.

the first few days were surprisingly easy. being the new member was already hard, so you just kept to yourself, did as you were told, and stood out of everyone's way. but soon enough, you and Ghost started clashing. snarky comments evolved into name-calling, finger-pointing, and complete disregard for decorum. for any poor bystander that got caught in the cross-fire, it'd seem like two petty children throwing tantrums at one another, not two well seasoned soldiers of a special ops task force.

years passed, and it never got better. the hatred between the two of you was intense. palpable. frustrating. arousing. full of unspoken words that could never dream of coming out of your lips. even when you're spitting venom at each other and barking death threats - unfunded, in most cases - there was an undeniable spark underneath it all, simmering its way to the surface at every stolen glance during briefing, a pub visit, or a blood-filled battle ground.

he didn't want to admit it, but you worked well together. the minute you'd step in the field, a switch would flip in your minds and there wouldn't be any traces of hostility left, only a deep connection the transcended the need for talking. you'd understand what he needed just by looking in his eyes. his beautiful brown eyes. usually unreadable, but in action, they were the vessel for an obscure language you were oddly fluent on.

in missions alongside you, despite the constant pump of adrenaline coursing through his veins, he felt peaceful. the emotional turmoil in his brain regarding your existence would quiet down, being overruled by a sense of admiration and a strange vulnerability. he knew the range of your skills, but he couldn't help being amazed by your stance, your swift yet precise moves, your mindset. how could a person be graceful while stabbing another?

it was conflicting. the push and pull, the tiring tango that would go on and on with a song that never reached the end. a dynamic that drained the both of you but a dynamic that neither had the will to change. it was something. something that filled your dull lives, a flesh-eating flame that licked your skin every time your arms brushed, that somehow just kept burning brighter.

Simon could feel it. he felt it when you were stranded in a ruinous safe house during a snowstorm and had to cling into his chest to not freeze to death. he felt it when he saw your eyes sparkling as you gasped for air after hearing one of Soap's terrible jokes. he felt it when your blood stained his hands and your consciousness almost slipped out of his reach forever.

you could feel it too.

that's why the news of your engagement ripped his heart out of his chest. the heart he kept hidden behind a fortified wall, stranded in an island not even the bravest sailors dared to reach. but you, with all your stubbornness, got inside. maneuvered in the labyrinth of cracks of his heart and made yourself a little spot. a spot you were oblivious to.

for some delirious reason, you invited Ghost to the wedding. maybe you wanted all of your trusted teammates with you. maybe you wanted to be a little smug about your happiness. either way, you're a civil person, so handing him the invite was the sensible decision; giving him at least a choice.

he didn't like your fiancé. in fact, he despised the guy. it didn't matter that he was a well-known officer, full of achievements and medals, beloved by many, respected by all. in his eyes, the bloke was no more than a frail bastard looking for a doll to show off. how could you get married to that selfish prick? how could you subject yourself to the wishes of a man who only saw you as a prize? why does he care?

for an even more delirious reason, Simon decided to go. worst fucking idea.

his nerves were through the roof. fighting with the necktie like he was the one about to get married, but ultimately tossing it aside. he didn't want to go, he didn't need to go. but he also didn't want to give you the satisfaction of winning the round, he wanted to be the so-called bigger person and show you how he can put differences aside. celebrate your happiness. so he took a seat on the bench, waiting for the inevitable death march.

it was a small event. a few friends, barely any family. he watched as you floated down the aisle, draped in white satin and bearing the brightest smile he has ever seen. he was so accustumed to seeing the harsh expressions you would make at him, that he couldn't help standing in awe as the final fleckes on sunlight danced on your skin, shining on your face and nearly casting a halo over your head. all for the stupid dumbfuck standing at the altar.

Simon couldn't pay attention to the ceremonialist; his mind was too consumed by the disorientation of seeing you. seeing you as a bride. seeing you as a bride in the altar. seeing you ready to live the rest of your life with someone who's not worth one second of your time. he just sat there, transfixed by the scene and only concentrating on you. your beaming eyes, your plump lips, your soft hair, your fingers intertwined with your fiancé's.

the type of focus that made him not register the involuntary movement of his feet to the corridor after the priest said "...speak now or forever hold your peace."

"don't do it." Simon's gruff voice echoed in the small chapel, reverberating on your eardrum like a violent outburst.

confusion shaped the faces of your loved ones. everywhere you looked you saw grimaces, wide-eyes, and parted lips. the sound gasps followed by murmurs of disbelief, the atmosphere thickening by the second, making it impossible to breathe. but for you the room was quiet. too quiet.

"please, you can't-"

"Ghost." you interrupt, dropping your fiancé's hand and glaring at the man who had the nerve to taint your wedding. your mind was racing with a million thoughts. it must be a cruel joke on his side, creating a spectacle out of this, you think.

before you realize it, your hands are dragging Ghost by the arm to the back of the church, stuffing him inside of what looks like a storage room, full of antique paintings and candles.

"have you lost your mind?"

"i think i have," he answers, taking a deep breath, "i must be batshit crazy, i know. but you can't marry him." your eyes narrow, looking for any indication of it being a bluff. why is your half-colleague-half-enemy objecting at your wedding?

"this isn't you. him," he scoffs, gesturing to the man on the other side of the door, "isn't who you are. you're not the type to be controlled by a man, giving in into his act, calling it love.

"what?" you ask, utterly thunderstruck by his words, "calling it- i'm not being controlled, Ghost. i know you're not familiar with the idea, but people can actually love and respect each other."

he dismisses your comment. "do you truly love him?" Simon knows what love is, knows it a little too much and that's what keeps him distant from people. it never ends well. "can you seriously tell me that this isn't a desperate attempt to fill the void in your heart? you're not happy with him."

"i'm not getting married out of necessity, Ghost. and who are you to say that i'm not happy?"

Simon paces in the room, footsteps creaking the hardwood floor. he knew that he was only digging himself a deeper grave, but he couldn't back down now. he won't allow you to commit such a terrible mistake. "i know you. i've watched you ever since you started dating that mutt," he says, studying your face, "you look different around him. almost small. frail."

his words are sharp, cutting through the air like a scathing blade. you feel the anger in his tone, but there's something else beneath the surface. he's almost... tender?

"you reduce yourself beside him," he adds in a matter-of-fact way, taking a step closer to you, "you're a force of nature, a beast, a goddamn hurricane, not-" he glares you up and down "this."

"i don't reduce myself!" you suddenly shout, eyes boring into his skull, "you think that because i'm getting married i'm throwing myself away? i'm a fucking soldier!"

"i know that!" he shouts back, taking a towering stance over you, "does he know that? you know damn well that the minute you sign those papers he's gonna begin persuading you into retiring, into being a perfect little trophy wife he can parade to his buddies."

you laugh. a dry, dull, hollow laugh. you don't know if it's due the absurdity of his statement or the shocking concern laced in each word escaping his mouth. it's one of those moments you're certain you dipped into a parallel universe, because the reality of it all seems too insane to believe. you stand in front of him with arms crossed, pondering your next move in this godforsaken argument. of course he wouldn't give you a break, not even in your wedding day.

"come on, be serious with me for one moment. he doesn't care about you. the real you," Ghost grits his teeth, "he cares about having your warm body by his side, but he doesn't see the vulnerability hidden behind your eyes. the part you keep a secret, tucked away from the world."

you clench your fists, battling against the desire to punch his gut. you're too proud to ever confess, but his words are slowly getting to you, clouding your brain with doubt. "i'll admit, it's not entirely his fault. he's too shallow for his own good, only knows what you show him. but i see what you try to hide." he says in a quieter tone. luring you in, trying to dissipate the tension.

"it has crossed your mind, hasn't it?" you tilt your head, confused by his question, "us. you've wondered about it."

you scoff, "no, i haven't." lie.

"don't lie now, darling." the pet name should make your skin crawl. but it doesn't. he didn't say it in his usual condescending mode, the one he employs whenever he's mocking you. there's no poison in his tongue, it's... sugary. drips like honey over you.

"you feel the heat between us, the suppressed fire itching to make us combust," he steps closer, still lingering a few inches from your body but too close for comfort, "you know how good we are together. everybody sees our synchrony in the field, how perfect we work," his gaze remains unwavering on your eyes, "tell me truth."

"the truth? the truth is that you're a lunatic-"

his fingertips dig in your skin, burning a hole to your bicep. your breath hitches on your throat, startled by the unexpected use of force. his jaw tightens at the sight, muscle twitching and threatening the remnants of self-control that prevents him from kissing you.

your head spins. his face is close. his scent fills your nostrils to the point of dizziness, intoxicating your lungs and sending shockwaves through your nervous system. "fine!" you blurt, "i might have thought of it, but it doesn't mean anything. just because we work well together it doesn't mean we're made for each other, Ghost."

"but it means something."

the air is full of anticipation, tension, energy. it's the moment before a lightning struck. as the space between you decreases, the shield insulating your opposing charges falters, resulting in a rapid electrical discharge that jolts your heart to life. he pulls you into a kiss, daring you to push him away.

your lips meet with a boiling intensity, the fusion of desire, rage, and something more. time stands still as his tongue finds yours, softly massaging it with both tenderness and passion. his touch is eager yet deliberate, the loud thumping of your heart fades into a ringing on your ear as his hand moves from your arm to your waist, pressing you even closer to his body.

"no, stop!" you push him, catching your breath as he stumbles back into the wall, "what's wrong with you?! what's wrong with me? i have a fiancé waiting as i waste my time here with you!"

"god, you don't get it, do you?!" he yells, "he doesn't deserve you! you put him in a pedestal, and while i'm stuck dreaming about you every fucking night he's out there-" he stops himself, giving you a unfamiliar deer in the headlights look.

"he's what?"

silence.

"Simon, finish your sentence."

"look, i," for the first time in the whole exchange, Simon is stumped. he didn't want to bring up the topic. he curses his mouth for flowing with his anger and talking too much, "i didn't want to tell you, i wanted you to see with your own eyes how much of a dipshit he is, but," he gulps, "he's a fucking cheater. i've seen him at the pub a few times with different girls, hands all over, drunk kisses-"

"you're lying," you retort, holding back the tears that start creeping up the corners of your eyes, "he wouldn't do that."

"i really wish i was lying. i'm so sorry."

you lean back on a chair, trembling as your breathing quickens. you don't wanna believe what he says, he's just letting his jealousy speak. but deep down, you know. all the times he came home with a smudged red mark on his neck, a wrinkled phone number in his pocket he rapidly dismisses. it's so typical, isn't it? no matter how devoted you are to a man, they will always search for more. the insatiable need to desire.

Simon frowns at your quivering figure. his heart aches when the small tears make their way down your cheek, staining your white dress. he crouches in front of you, a hand on your knee trying to convey his support, his guilt for being the bearer of the fact, his love. give me your pain. i can handle it. you're not alone, my darling.

"don't touch me." you hiss, raising your watery eyes to his. the look of hurt in your gaze pierces through him like a sword. he wants to say the right words, to protect you, to give you a new reason to love, but his mind is incapable of forming a remotely comforting phrase.

the tears on your face are hot. the salt streams sting on your skin, but nothing compares to the sorrow that filled your ventricles. you can't stay like this, you can't let him win. you're stronger than this. you're stronger than him.

Ghost jumps when you suddenly stand up. the pain in your irises are now accompanied by the unmistakable wrath he's used to deal. only now, you don't direct it at him; instead, you open the door and stomp your way to the altar again, followed quickly by Simon, worried about what you're going to do.

"it's over."

"babe? what?" the fiancé looks down at you, bearing a disgustingly sly smile, not quite believing your words, "you're kidding, right?"

you don't weaver. despite your tear-stained face and obvious hurt state, your resolve is clear. he truly doesn't care about you. he never even went to check on you after you disappeared in a room with Simon, never felt a ting of threat because he believes the control he has on your soul is enough to keep you tight on the leash. "i said, it's over."

the grin in his face fades when he realizes your certainty. he glances at the tall figure in the back, ready to throw hands if he ever so slightly thinks about laying a finger on you. "of course. you." the man says, rolling his sleeves and making his way to Simon.

only to be stopped by you.

"he has nothing to do with this," you state, blocking his path and pushing his chest with a strength you didn't know you had, "this is between your cheating ass and me. i'm not gonna play into your game anymore. there's no wedding, it's over."

the glare he gives you is bone-chilling, and for a second you see his will to pounce at your throat. without any doubt, Ghost moves you aside and shields your body with his, eyes making all the communication. try me. one step closer and i'll kill you.

even with his conceited persona, he knows better than to actually pick a fight with Ghost. he wouldn't hesitate to snap his spine bare-handed, not even inside a church, so he backs off. it really is over.

in the meantime, you're already halfway out the door, breathing in a deeply needed huff of fresh air. it's the classical movie scene with a runaway bride after the big climax - but in this film, the bride is alone. not with the pining romantic counterpart that just poured his heart out.

your name falling from Simon's lips lead your soul back to your earthly form, the reality dawning on your head one more time.

"leave me alone, Simon."

"but," he stops in his tracks, taking in your scorched-earth appearance, "i don't want you to be alone, please, let me-"

"no," you cut him, "i don't need you near me right now. or ever, for that matter."

straight to the core. a gunshot would hurt less, he thinks. "you don't have to do this on your own. i know that our history prompts you to not trust me," he sighs, pondering for a moment if he should really speak what his spirit desperately long for, "i wanna change that. let me prove how much i love you."

his words find their way to your bleeding heart, contaminating your mind with the possibility of being loved by him. for someone who maintains his feelings at bay, kept under lock and key, he sounds sincere.

"love?" your scoff intercuts the rhetorical question, "the Ghost i met doesn't know love. he knows anger, knows disgust, disdain."

he watches your lips quivering, tears threatening the edges of your waterline once again. he wants nothing more but to reach for you, wrap his burly arms around your body and never let go. whisper comfort into your ears, sweet promises of devotion, and give the solace you yearn for.

"i need... time."

Simon looks up to your eyes, locking his gaze and quietly nodding. he understands. he isn't fond of leaving you in this state, but he knows you won't have a change of heart minutes after a love confession. not when he spent years showing you nothing but hate.

it pains him to see your sorrowful grim. pupils following attentively as each of your steps put more distance between your bodies, planting new cracks in his heart. it's only for a while, he repeats to himself as a mantra, cursing silently for treating you with such a freezing-cold demeanor, when all you did was warm his soul.

it was true. Ghost only knows the bad, dreadful emotions. only served you hate and didn't bother to change.

but the thing is, Simon has never hated you.

it's my first time writing like this so i'm a little self-conscious, but i'm also proud of myself <3 hope you like it! i wanna make a part 2, but idk.

little note - i had to edit it on my phone so it was kinda awful lol sorry for any mistakes

[vanilla-bean-buttercream]

Something I wish the "speak English we're in America" crowd would understand is how difficult it is to actually communicate in your second language all the time.

Like I know I'm talking about ignorant people at best and bigots at worst but take a walk with me if your interest is piqued.

I've been learning Spanish both in a classroom for 4 years and casually for the past 15 years. I'm by no means perfectly fluent, but it is something I try to do every day for at least 15 minutes and not just because there's a scary owl in my notifications ordering me to at gunpoint [wink]

I moved to a area with a heavy Spanish speaking community, as opposed to the mainly white area I grew up in as a child. This was always endgame for me, so I wanted to learn Spanish as soon as I could. As a child, despite hearing all around me and even believing at the time that "Everyone in America should speak English™" I wanted to bridge a gap and do something about people not knowing English instead of just complaining about it by becoming an ESL teacher.

That dream faded as I fell in love with being a preschool teacher, but it was in the back of my mind. White ignorance and saviorism aside, my ultimate goal was to help others communicate with each other. Was being the key word. I don't anymore, but it came from a point in time that I now... cringe on that I'm older.

Fast forward to me moving to an area with a heavy Spanish speaking population, this time with just the goal to live there instead of teach people English, and y'all, when I tell you learning Spanish for years did not prepare me for it, I mean it.

It's a ton of brain work.

There's grammar structure to think about. There's words that sound similar but mean two different things. There's accent differences. There's terminology differences. And don't even get me started on the slang.

My brain was exhausted just going to the grocery store. And to think, there are people expecting other Americans to speak in their second language 24/7, myself included when I was an ignorant teen with limited access to the internet.

To someone who has spoken English all their life, it sounds easy. You just... do it. But really, what they're discounting is the years they spent from infancy being engulfed in that language, having the tools as a child to pick up on language faster than an adult brain, not having conflicting grammar structure to think about, knowing which words to use and when, and the grace to make mistakes and be corrected without feeling stupid.

I still think about this speech from Gloria from Modern family.

At the time it just meant my passion to help people communicate in English intensified, but now, looking back, I realize the message I should've taken from it is how alienating it is to speak a language others don't understand, how frustrating it is to want to communicate and never know how to express it, and how dehumanizing it is to constantly have other people tell you that, even though you're trying to step up to their level, you're the unintelligent one.

I hate to say I had to empathize with her to get the point, but sometimes the best teacher is experience.

And you know what? I hear the pro-English first crowd argue "my grandparents had to do it when they immigrated to America", but I can tell you for a fact the reason my grandmother knew Polish despite being an American born citizen is because her Polish-American grandmother didn't speak English and learned it from her children. They didn't speak English 24/7 either. That's why PA Dutch still exists.

I guess what I want out of this post is just... have patience with people who don't speak English. Give them some grace. They may speak English and don't know how to convey what they want to say. They may not speak English well at all and are trying to better themselves at their own pace. They may just be talking to a relative visiting who doesn't know English at all. Really, it's none of my or anyone else's business why someone isn't speaking English. So what if I have to press 1 for English. That second option isn't for me. It's for people who breathe a sigh of relief because at least they'll be understood.

[rad-batson]

Damian Wayne: Figure Skater

or: Damian Wayne Fluff Because Damian Wayne Deserves Joy and Happiness <3

Damian Wayne prides himself on being good at everything he does. He never half-asses anything.

Damian has tried tons of different skills before. He’s mastered dozens of martial arts, become fluent in over thirty languages, earned several PhDs, and he’s not even a teenager yet. Why? He needs to be the best or it’s not good enough.

But there are only so many skills that give him the same joy as when he started. Studio art is his favorite and has always been a constant for him, but he’s yet to find something else. Something that truly invigorates him.

At 12, Damian watches the Winter Olympics with Dick. It’s his first ever time viewing the Olympics, and he doesn’t really know what he was expecting, but Damian is…kind of underwhelmed.

Everyone talked about how the Olympics are supposed to be this grandiose display of the world’s talents, but most of it’s pretty boring.

Curling is boring. Alpine is slow and monotonous. Bobsledding is repetitive, and sled dog racing seems unethical.

But then figure skating comes on. And Damian is captivated.

Without even realizing, he moved right in front of the television and watched an hour of figure skating uninterrupted. Dick notices and smiles.

“Aren’t they cool?” Dick asks. Damian, with his eyes still glued to the screen, nods. “Wanna go to the local rink with me and try it out? It’s even more fun than it looks.”

That pulls Damian out of his trance, and he closes himself off. “No. I don’t need to.”

He just thought it was cool, okay? And he totally doesn’t want to try it himself. And he totally isn’t worried that he won’t be good at it and fall like an idiot in front of his older brother if he does.

It’s just that…it’s so cool!!

Damian knows agility, okay? He can do flips and tricks with ease, and he knows how to do it with both grace and poise. But these people? They can do it on ice! With blades on their feet!!

OF COURSE DAMIAN WANTS TO DO COOL TRICKS WITH SHARP BLADES STRAPPED TO HIS FEET

Admittedly, he goes through a two-month-long period of pretending he isn’t dying to try it. He almost completely forgets. Then, by complete coincidence, Cass and Duke invite him to an indoor skating rink, and he caves. Maybe it’s not that hard.

Spoiler: Figure Skating is Hard

Within five seconds, he falls flat on his face. How do people do this? Cass and Duke say it’s normal, but he still refuses to leave the wall the whole time out of shame.

Once they’re home, however, Damian realizes how stupid that was. He’s Damian Wayne Al Ghul. He can’t just give up! What would the rest of his family think?! What if they go back one day, and he just falls flat on his face again? There’s no excuse the second time, and he doesn’t want the others to think he can’t do it.

So that night, he sneaks back into the rink after hours and tries again. And again. And again. And again.

On the fifth try, he is able to make it all the way around the rink. He realizes that he’s distributing his weight wrong. (Stupid mistake, of course. He’s essentially balancing on knives.) That makes it a lot easier, but he’s still flapping his arms around like a bird.

He spends two more hours improving his balance, then decides that’s good enough. He did what he came here to do, and he doesn’t need to come back.

Two days later, he comes back. (I mean, who knows? Maybe, he’s gotten better.) He didn’t, obviously. But what harm is there in spending some more time on the ice? Other than the collection of bruises he acquires.

He falls way more than he’d like to admit, but once he teaches himself how to do that safely, it’s actually kind of fun. He circles the rink countless times, figures out to start and stop (though it is admittedly a very ungraceful way of stopping.) He can even kind of control his speed.

So he’s done, right? He did it! He can now ice skate to a degree that isn’t mortifying for a beginner. He doesn’t need to come back.

The Short Program

One week and four visits later, he admits that he is hooked. He wants to see how far he can go with this. But he can’t just improve without proper guidance, so he decides to take Tim’s advice for once and use the internet.

That’s when he really starts improving. Exponentially. He pours over articles and videos and diagrams about gliding, stopping, pivots, crossovers, and finally some simple spins. Just basics, of course.

He also purchases his own pair of skates because the rental ones he’s been “borrowing” suck. And they smell. And he forges a membership card (you know, so there’s no paper trail.)

His original goal is to make it to free skate level, but once he’s there, he can’t stop. It’s just so gratifying to add another skill to his repertoire. If he can do front crossovers, then he can surely master them backward. Closed Mohawks shouldn’t be that bad if the open Mohawks were so easy. Before he knows it, he’s spending hours every week developing his skills.

After a few months, his improvement plateaus because the jumps prove difficult. He doesn’t know how to build up the speed, and his stealth and fighting techniques (which he’s been borrowing from thus far) just make him wipe out. So he works on that for a bit and tries to figure out what he’s doing wrong.

During a JL meeting, The Flash happens to mention a rogue who used to figure skate. Lisa Snart, or the Golden Glider, is a famous figure skater from the 90s, but she was kicked from the Olympic team due to her life of crime. Now, she jumps between both petty crime and vigilantism.

Damian tracks her down and claims to be researching the sport for a school assignment. Yeah, it’s a bit thin of a cover story. If she wanted to see through his lie, she’d only have to break into his school and check his teacher’s assignment book, but once he laments about how every other skater is busy, and he was so surprised to learn that she was no longer skating when she’s clearly so talented, Lisa happily tells him all of the secrets to the sport.

For a few months, he applies her techniques and even asks her to skate for him a few times, recording her from multiple angles. “I value the quality of my education,” he explains. She sees through the lie but doesn’t say anything. (And somehow, he doesn’t particularly care.)

In the coming year, Bruce notices a change in how Robin moves during patrol. If he had to describe it…well, there’s a lot more power behind his movement. He redistributes his momentum with ease, which proves extremely valuable. There’s more height to his jumps and speed in his attacks. On top of it all, he can reorient himself quicker.

Bruce praises Damian once they’re back at the cave and even allows him more freedom during missions. Damian totally doesn’t cry about it in his room.

The Free Skate

Damian refuses to let anyone watch him practice for YEARS to save his pride. I mean, yes, he’s at free skate level 5—thanks, Lisa—but he’s not at level 6 yet! And that won’t take too long, right? Maybe they can know once he’s mastered his quad axel (which is a totally doable goal. He’s not overachieving. He’s Damian Wayne Al Ghul.)

Next, he works on transitions. At first, he copies other skaters’ forms, then he slowly develops his own. It’s sharp in some ways and fluid in others like he’s been on ice his whole life but he’s got places to be.

At about 15 or 16, he invites Jon to come with him one day. He shows him “a few spins” (triple axels) and Jon immediately starts encouraging him to join some kind of showcase or competition.

Damian’s response is “No! I’m not good enough yet. I still can’t land a quad axel. That’s insulting.”

Cue Jon’s family-friendly “bitch please” face. He says, “Okay, but you need to show someone else. I can’t be the only person in the world who knows.” so they get Billy in on it.

He’s obviously good at keeping secrets, considering he hid his age and the fact he was homeless from the JL for five years.

Billy also loses his shit, but he’s more understanding about the “I don’t want to tell anyone else” thing. Thus, Jon and Billy become Damian’s cover for every time he’s caught sneaking out. (He was running out of excuses anyway.)

Bruce hears that Damian is hanging out with Jon and Billy every week, gives him a look, and tells him he’s proud that he’s making friends.

Damian nods along, thanking all the gods in Billy’s head that his secret is safe. If Bruce doesn’t have any reason to snoop, then he won’t. Simple as that. The greatest detective in the world doesn’t need to start snooping.

During the next Winter Olympics, Damian watches every single skating performance from the comfort of his room. (Tim can hear him yelling at his TV through the walls but doesn’t have the energy to question it.)

Jon and Billy are his cheerleaders. They go out for lunch then head to the rink with him and mess around while Damian practices. Sometimes, they spend all day together. Doing homework, gossiping, playing fun little games.

Damian keeps mentioning the quad axel to them until Jon looks it up and says, “Um, hey Dami? Apparently, the quad axel is like…almost physically impossible. You know that, right?“ “If Lisa Snart and Ilia Malinin can do it, so can I.” “Okay, Mr. PhD.” Still, they don’t doubt him for a second.

Damian teaches them some stuff during a public skate in Fawcett City. Jon cheats multiple times by floating a tiny bit to keep his balance. Billy falls a lot.

As much as he likes being with his friends, though, Damian finds himself skating more to clear his head rather than to improve or socialize.

When he has a bad patrol or gets into some trouble he could have avoided, he’ll sneak into the rink alone and skate for hours.

He’ll pour all of his frustration into the music and carve it out into the ice until he’s exhausted and lying down with the cold surface against his back, letting it sink some sense into him.

It’s a good outlet. Kind of like his art, but there are only so many pencils you can snap in anger before your dad cuts your art supply budget. Bruce doesn’t know about this yet.

Six months later, when Damian lands his first quad axel in front of Jon and Billy, they all scream for five consecutive minutes and celebrate with hot chocolate and sorbet.

“What’s got you in such a good mood?” Tim asks when he’s back home. Damian tries to hide his smile but fails spectacularly. “Oh, nothing.” He’s never had a problem with schooling his emotions before, but anything is possible now. Even a quad fucking axel.

Competition Season

During patrol one day, Dick sees Damian spinning on the roof and says, “Hey, where’d you get those sick ballet moves? Did Black Bat teach you that?” Damian immediately stops and says, “Uh yeah.” Thankfully, Dick doesn’t ask Cass to confirm.

At 17, Jason catches him sneaking out at 10 pm and unknowingly opens an entire can of worms.

Damian, too tired to make a good excuse: “I’m seeing Jon.” Jason: “Like a date?” Damian, dying inside: “…Don’t tell Baba.”

At 18, he’s able to reliably land the quad axel and do it with style. It’s almost more gratifying than punching criminals in the face. (Almost.) That’s when Jon and Billy finally bring up the idea of telling others about it.

Damian is still hesitant, but he thinks about it.

I mean, he’s made a lot of progress in six years, hasn’t he? The only other thing he’s spent so long practicing was his assassin training, then his vigilantism, and his art. But this one is special because it’s just his. (And Jon and Billy. Kinda.) And getting to show off to them is fun, especially when he perfects another element, and they got batshit crazy together over it. That would be nice, wouldn’t it? Having a few more people to mess around with in the rink?

He just doesn’t know if it’ll be impressive enough. After all, his entire family is great at stuff. Bruce is the world’s greatest detective—how he hasn’t learned about this yet, Damian doesn’t know. Dick is a beyond incredible acrobat. Jason has one of the highest proficiencies in marksmanship ever. Tim is the best bo staff user on this side of the Atlantic...

...And Damian can do jumps and tricks on the ice. Wow, cool. Good job, Damian.

But then he’s twelve again. And he’s sitting in front of the TV watching Yuzuru Hanyu and Yuna Kim do triple axels, and Dick is inviting him to try it out together. And Cass and Dick are taking him to the rink because they thought it’d be fun. And Lisa is rambling about how she misses skating competitively. And Bruce is telling him he’s proud of the progress Damian’s made both inside and outside of patrol. And Tim is telling him he looks happier than usual.

He is happier.

Yeah. Maybe, they deserve to know.

He agrees to sign up for a free skate competition. But not one in Gotham. And only a small one. He wants to test out the waters first. They find one that’s a month away, and Damian signs up.

When the day comes, Damian is shaking in his skates. He did not account for a “small competition” still having over two hundred people watching. What the fuck was he thinking?

What Jon and Billy don’t tell him is that they snuck Dick into the crowd to watch. Dick has no idea what he’s doing there until he sees Damian skate out to the middle in a red and grey top with black pants and matching skates.

He performs to Beggin’ by Måneskin and starts the performance out with his quad axel.

Everyone loses their shit.

He looks so genuinely excited when he’s skating. He completely ignores the hundreds of people watching, doesn’t count points. He just jams out to the song until he’s breathless, spinning and gliding and jumping and turning to the beat, mostly showing off to Jon and Billy like he always does.

When it’s over, he just hears this massive crowd of people screaming, and then overtop of it, Dick shouts, “THAT’S MY BABY BROTHER!!” and Damian almost falls flat on his face.

Dick uses the Emergency Group Chat to send a video of Damian skating then screams into the phone to Bruce, who immediately drives out to the rink with the rest of the family, and his siblings make Damian do it over once the place is cleared out because they can’t believe they missed it.

Dick: When did you learn to figure skate?! Damian: After we watched the Olympics together. Dick: You’ve been hiding this for SIX YEARS?!?! Damian: …It looked fun.

Of course, Damian is still the son of Bruce Wayne so tabloids eat it up.

“Damian Wayne: Figure Skating Prodigy” “Wayne Prodigy Wins Gold at Regional Figure Skating Competition, Baffling Judges” “Is Damian Wayne fit to represent the US during the next Winter Olympics??”

A swarm of coaches ask Damian if he would like to skate competitively but he declines. He just likes doing it for fun.

Thankfully, the performance was recorded by the competition holders (after a suspicious request from the CEO of Wayne Enterprises last week. Wow, wonder why)

Leave it to Damian to spend his rebellious phase becoming an Olympic-level athlete.

[noxiatoxia]

heyyy.. I’ve been learning Japanese because I’m very interested, I’ve only been using Duolingo so far and I’m not satisfied with it for a number of reasons

anyway do you have any resources you’d recommend for a beginner level in Japanese? I know the entire hiragana alphabet, including sounds like “pu” and “gi” (I can’t figure out the Japanese keyboard yet lmao)

Hi! I'm very flattered you'd come to me! Please keep in mind I do not have a degree in Japanese nor English or any Language Teaching, so this is just advice from a normal guy.

Firstly, it was a good idea to ditch Duolingo. Duolingo is good for learning the JP alphabet, or - and if you don't care/don't want to become fluent - if you just need to learn a handful of phrases to make your Summer trip to Japan survivable. If you wish to become fluent though, it's a really awful tool. For one big reason:

There are no 1:1s in language.

Put simply...there is no "English translation" to any given Japanese word. This is true of any language, I think - not just ENG <--> JP. Sure, some simple nouns can be reliably translated with accuracy - りんご ringo means "apple", or 犬 いぬ inu means "dog". But even then, context matters. There's idioms, sayings - and when you get to verbs, more complex nouns, adjectives...there simply is no 1:1 anymore.

This is why we get translations like Danganronpa which read (70% of the time) like they looked up the word in a JP to ENG dictionary and figured that must be it.

For example... "zetsubou" , "despair", doesn't actually mean despair, really. The way it's used in Japanese is much more common/versatile than how it is used in English. Really think about it. How often in day to day normal conversation do you hear the word despair?

In Japanese, 絶望 ぜつぼう zetsubou is sort of like...misery, negativity, the absence of any feeling of things will be good or okay. This makes it far more common in Japanese natural dialogue.

So please keep that in mind with every word you learn! Learn the feeling, write down as many example sentences you need to help you with it.

This may feel daunting, and it's okay to rely on basic definitions as a beginner if you need to. Everyone starts somewhere. But it's something to keep in mind.

Elsewise, I think toddler cartoons are actually good. Cartoons made for babies and toddlers are designed to help them learn basic things, such as colors, shapes, being nice...etc. Because of the simplistic nature, small words are used, speech is usually slower, and words are repeated consistently. Even just sitting down every hour once a week to watch a toddler show in Japanese is helpful.

The Japanese dub of Bluey and Peppa Pig are very good. Also available (and my personal favorite) is Paboo and Mojies. If you want some material for kids but not toddlers, NHK for School is good.

Watching the Japanese Dub of a show you know like the back of your hand (preferably a kids' show for easier to understand dialogue) is great too, as you can hear how the sentence gets translated into Japanese. The MLP 5 movie is great in Japanese, and I don't know much about Miraculous Ladybug in English, but I caught it on JP Disney Junior a few times and thought it was fun, and I think if you are able to understand some of the toddler shows with relative ease, these would be good places to move to.

Toddler shows are also careful to generally keep the words spoken normal since kids will likely emulate them. It helps keep you from talking like an anime character.

When it comes to reading, little kid books with Hiragana are good, but manga is actually helpful! Manga uses Kanji, but includes Furigana by the Kanji so you can see how to say it. The Yotsubato Manga in Japanese is a good one to start with. You can look up the words you find in a dictionary.

If you need discipline and can't learn without deadlines and such, a language school may be good. While Japanese textbooks can often be misleading for English learners, it's not necessarily incorrect info, and if you need the school environment, then I'd say the pros outweighs the cons.

Also, don't be afraid to use MTL for help, to look up words, and to google in Japanese.

Also for Hiragana and Katakana, this is a good site. I know you already know Hiragana, but just in case.

Watching Japanese vlogs and YT videos are a good way to hear natural Japanese as well. Finding people who know Japanese to talk to is important for practicing your speaking skills as well.

I hope this helps at all!

[lanascurse]

: ̗̀➛ Some of my DR deets

JJK DR

Oddly enough, this is the one I tend to be most private about despite it being my main. I’d love to share soooo much but it’s all too personal. I’m part of the 2006 gang, and have a lovely s/o who I adore to death ! I scripted many things out (kenjaku dies off wayyy before 2018 lmao) so the plot is sort of similar , but I added my own tweaks to it? Also, my CT is related to crystals. I might explain it more in detail one day?? Idk if anyone cares tho but I love it sm. I’m considered a semi-special grade honestly…? It’s confusing but I’m definitely not a low grade 😋

Obey me! DR

Honestly my biggest concern about this reality was the language bc the game is meant to be in Japanese but I can’t imagine them speaking English 💀 the thing is they’re all demons living in “hell” so wouldn’t they have their own special language? Idk but I guess we’re all gonna be fluent in Japanese lmao. Anyway, there is so much chaos in the reality it’s so fucking fun. Lucifer is pissed 24/7 but I’m lowkey scared of him so I try not to slip out of line often. My S/O is Solomon because something about him hits diff 😍 I love my guys Mammon and Levi too but I don’t feel a huge connect to them in a romantical sense. MY OUTFITS TOO!! I mix the devildom and human realm fashion and it’s absolute perfection!! Also, even though there’s no sunlight in the Devildom, I will NOT be deficient in vitamin D 🥰

YouTuber DR

This is a fun one for sure. I’m basing this reality around sister squad mainly because first, iconic ass squad. Second, I eventually want Grayson Dolan as my s/o…I used to be Ethan’s lane lmao. I scripted for us to get together around 2020 since this is their “maturing” era. I have a YT squad of my own and we blew up in popularity years before we got involved with others YouTubers. I know James, Emma, and the twins personally, and quite close with them. And for fun I interact with Shane Dawson and Jeffree Star cuz why tf not? Doesn’t mean I wanna be their friend but they carried 2018 YouTube, let’s be so fr. 2018 is our prime year, my squad and I are drama free for the most part, even when people want to drag us into a scandal. Also making LA more ideal because…I think we all know why. Love this DR 😫

Waiting room

A cute cottage near the cliff-sides of Scotland where I have my bunnies, and all my cats (including the deceased ones). I chill, script, and am filled with absolute love and positivity. This is the place where time truly slows down and allows me to enjoy life. I get to watch edits of my dr’s (w me in them ofc), read goofy fanfics, and can literally summon anything or anyone I want ! It’s technically my dream life but without a career ;)

Haikyuu DR

In love with this anime/manga forever and always. My story goes deep so I won’t get into it too much but my s/o is most definitely Oikawa Tooru. I am a manager for Karasuno’s boys volleyball team and honestly might be like Hinata with how many encounters/friendships I develop 😭 I’m a second year so I’m close to Tanaka and Noya (two of the biggest doofus dingus heads ever I love them sm). My childhood best friend is Kageyama which creates an interesting dynamic around us imo. Wayyy too much to spill about this DR so imma keep it short !

Alice in Borderland DR

I was contemplating this one because it’s so creepy yet interesting. My occupation outside of the borderlands is still confusing to me because I haven’t given this DR any attention, but what I do know is Kuina will become my mf girlfriend. Have you seen that woman? Like idgaf about Chishiya, move over !!!!

Fame DR

I’m an actress with a background in musical theatre, and come from a successful family. I have some notable roles that led me to winning quite a few awards. In this DR, I have an older brother because I want to know what it’s like to have a sibling so bad. Idk why this is the reality I chose to experience that tho. I am friends with some of my fav celebs, ANDDDD one of my cousins is a K-POP idol as well!! We got them connections, y’all. NVM I don’t want a particular s/o in this reality but if I do end up with someone, I’d prefer it be a woman bcuz male celebrities do NOT hit the same :/

felt like yapping about my dr’s sorry. uh thanks if you made it all the way to the end. subscribe and like plz 🙏

[pinovapie]

DRDT Headcanons!! (1/idk)

Decided to post some headcanons for various characters!! (there might be some mild projection on my favourites lol) idk if i'll do more for other characters?? Also, sorry for less Teruko HCs,,, i meant to do 5 for each but uh,,, you can tell who my favourites are i guess??

Also, disclaimer, these are headcanons!! I wrote these before Chap 2 Part 2, they may be disproven and become out of date in the future!!

Under a read more to not clog up space,, also TW: (unintentional) Self harm

Ace:

He grew up on a farm.

His parents had a ton of kids in the hopes that at least one would be successful. Whoever got the best test results/ won an award/ has the highest salary (based on age, idk how old Ace's siblings are) was the favourite and showered with attention.

This meant Ace and his siblings grew up willing to literally and metaphorically shove eachother face first in the mud to be the favourite child. There was a lot of sabotage, insults and threats constantly.

He struggles to form meaningful friendships due to trust issues.

He'll hold a grudge for years. He probably still despises and talks shit about some kid who stole his chair when they were 6 or something.

He used to love animals until one day he woke up and the world was more terrifying than he remembered. The comforting bark of a dog is now a horrifying sound that sends him spiraling with panic.

He's overly sensitive to light and sound.

He chews his lip, bites his nails and scratches his arms/wrists when bored or uncomfortable. Maybe that's why he always wears gloves, to do less damage?

Nico:

Sometimes when it's too much they'll go non verbal. They're fluent in sign language as a result.

They sometimes judge the things people name their pets. They'd never say it out loud but they think certain pets have really stupid names.

They struggle with tone, often coming across as sarcastic and fed up when they're being genuine.

If they get postively overwhelmed (like flustered due to compliments etc.) they make cat noises instead of speaking (like meows, chirps, etc.). They find in really embarrassing.

If they are in a downward spiral, they'll grip something (their cloak, hair, a soft toy, etc.) and just hold on to try and ground themselves.

Nico took a couple skirts from the dress-up room to wear in private.

In a non killing game au, they'd join Rose in painting more frequently. They end up preferring watercolours though.

They may have a journal where they might talk shit about certain individuals in the class.

Teruko:

Despite her trust issues and bad luck with relationships, she's a romantic at heart. It may take a while for her to admit her feelings but she'd like someone to give her flowers and take her to dinner just as much as anyone else.

She likes horror films because she can experience the thrill without being in danger. I think she'd also like those rollar coaster simulators since an actual rollar coaster would probably be too dangerous with her luck.

She loves sliced cheese because she can avoid having to cut cheese with a knife. Similarly, she'll spread spreads with a spoon because it's less risking than with a knife.

Due to constantly moving, she owned a couple of those plastic picnic sets (the plate, bowl, cup sets) and had to wash them frequently. As a result she's secretly super grateful to Hu and Eden for cleaning after meals because it's one less thing to worry about.

She had to remind Charles to seperate his dark and light washing a couple times, even after the initial explanation of washing machines.

Levi:

He's on the Asexual spectrum. Like he'd never consider it himself but if his partner wanted to, he'd be comfortable with it because he likes making his partner happy.

He's usually trying to keep the peace but he will argue with friends or customers if they try to pick/buy a god awful outfit.

He worked at a boutique before becoming a personal stylist. He kept giving customers unwanted fashion advice that made their outfits the talk of the town. Word spread and after a little while people started showing up for the advice.

Does not understand humour or sarcasm at all.

He's fond of baby animals but would never hold one out of fear of hurting it.

In a non killing game au, he'd probably find out peoples fashion preferences so he can get them suitable clothes as presents.

He's probably the only cast member to politely listen to Veronika's rambles without wanting to throw up. He'd probably get roped into movie nights after Arturo and Ace triple locked their doors to avoid such movie nights.

Various people have caught him raiding sweet foods (sometimes even just eating sugar straight out the bag) at like 3am on multiple occasions.

[lorkonsghost]

Another Phineas and Ferb live with BatFam au headcannons

Although Bruce and Alfred didn't want take Phineas and Ferb in but Bruce thought in moment of weakness about his parents and how they where taken him in moments notice if Alfred didn't take him he would of been lost so Bruce agrees to let live here under strick rules. for them not to matter since Phineas and Ferb find the bat cave ten minutes after moving in.

Phineas can speak to mute people fluently it freaks everyone how he knows what Cass is saying without her even using sign language even Bruce who's fluent in body language is surprised how good Phineas is

Perry becomes a better fighter just by watching the BatFamliy.

One time perry ask doof for help in Gotham but the second he steps into Gotham he gets dragged into a fight between crime lords and their both trying to recruit him only for perry and super pets to stop them and get doof away from Gotham forever

Tim get along with Phineas and Ferb but he's convinced their upto something. they what to be family but you know Tim second most paranoid.

Jason one time recruited them to help with his crime empire as a joke a day later Jason is doing crime so well he scared of Bruce thinking it's his fault

Love handle host an concert in Gotham Phineas and Ferb go to reminisce about their family and the BatFamliy is fighting every rouge in Gotham to make sure nothing gets in the way of the concert

Cass get along great with Phineas and Ferb, steph and Cass are normally the ones who join them for their high jinks along with one of batboys

Damian is trying to find perry, what he doesn't know is Ace the bathound, Titus, and Alfred the cat are also a part of a the super pets so are bat cow and Jerry but their reserves plus bat cow is to busy to join

Perry goes to save owca with the super pets atleast once and major monogram is begging them to join

Perry arch nemesis is Damian trying to figure out what their doing

Krypto, ace, and perry argue who actually leads the super pets

Dick never knows what Phineas and Ferb did until the next day unless he strictly involved from the beginning

Phineas and Ferb shoot Wayne tech fortunes threw the roof

They cured mr freezes wife

Dick onetime ask them to help plan a date with him and Kory next thing they know their touring the milky way

Meep and Darkside have personal beef

Original since I thought this was a reblog

https://www.tumblr.com/lorkonsghost/753047351522934784/so-i-woke-up-in-the-middle-of-the-night-from-one?source=share

[dorianbrightmusic]

Some Kitakami Sibling Headcanons

These are things I wanna expand on more in fanfic (some of these ideas are gonna get thrown into Festival for False Heroes eventually), but wanted to post in the meantime. TW for discussion of domestic violence/child neglect and abuse.

He and Carmine were born in Mitsralton City, two and a half years apart from each other, and lived there till Carmine was 7 and Kieran almost 5. 

Their parents didn’t exactly have the most stable marriage to begin with. They were both very good trainers, and had a chemistry built on that, but also tended to fight, sometimes violently. They weren’t bad people, but they brought out the worst in each other, and disagreed over how to raise the children, both of whom had substantial issues:

Baby Carmine had a temper, and learned to get attention from watching her parents fight. She broke plenty of porcelain plates even in infancy, and the property damage only got worse from there, as she physically couldn’t control herself when she was distressed. 

Baby Kieran was withdrawn, worryingly so, and didn’t speak or respond to his name. For a few months, the family thought he was deaf – then he heard his first thunderstorm, and the cacophony made him cry. 

The siblings’ mother, Michie, was determined that both kids needed some kind of intervention. Their father, who later became notorious under the pseudonym Colress, was certain that they would be fine in their own time, without external help. Michie won enough that both kids got an autism diagnosis and recommendations for behavioural therapy. Colress won enough that neither kid got to attend said behavioural therapy before he left.

As the kids got older, Carmine got rowdier, and Kieran stayed quiet. Colress knew his son could read and understand language, and parented him by giving him books and encyclopaedias to read that were well beyond any small child’s reading level. Colress liked Kieran, but never had the gumption to really be a father to him. Michie tried to calm Carmine down, but to no avail. She loved her daughter, but didn’t know how to deal with her, so, horribly, forced her to ride out her increasingly frequent meltdowns on her own. Both Carmine and Kieran were much worse off for the way their parents utterly failed to connect with them, and in different ways, they’ve both become terrified of being left alone for it. But Kieran learned to cope by withdrawing into fantasy and mythology, as Colress taught him to, while Carmine learned to drive others away before they could abandon her. They grew equally good at isolating themselves, in different ways, for fear of being isolated.

Michie would often call her parents to express her frustration. When Yukito and Hideko caught wind of the fact she and Colress had been fighting physically as well as verbally over this, and realised how horrendously the kids were being treated, they were furious. They were mortified that their grandchildren would be growing up somewhere so precipitously lonely. A year later, when Colress walked out on the family, Hideko and Yukito flew to Unova to collect the kids, wanting to give them a better home life than Michie, in her stranded and desperate state, could provide. 

Kieran was extremely late to talk – he said his first words maybe a week before Colress walked out. While he understood Galarian, he didn’t get much opportunity to practise speaking it before he and Carmine moved to Kitakami. As such, he, unlike Carmine, had to effectively relearn his mother tongue for his first semester at Blueberry, and it’s left him with a light accent, which he later worked to rid himself of during his breakdown. He never quite managed to eradicate it, and it frustrates him to be proficient, rather than fluent, in his mother tongue.

Carmine and Kieran did tend to fight physically when they were younger – they learned to do so by copying their parents. Yukito and Hideko eventually managed to teach them not to, but while the siblings love each other, by god, their fights are acrimonious. Carmine and Kieran haven’t hit each other in at least 3 years, but that’s barely a starting point.

Kieran has a special interest in mythology generally, and knows every different variation on Kitakamian folklore possible. Moreover, he’s scarily aware of the complexities of broader Johtohnian legends, and can pull a twenty-minute infodump on Celebi out of thin air on cue. Asking him about anything relating to old Hisuian creation myths, or the Pearl and Diamond clans’ different deities, will produce a similar deluge of information. Even Unovan mythology fascinates him immensely, and he’s terrifyingly knowledgeable where Kyurem’s concerned. Ogerpon’s tale was always his favourite, though as it’s the one he’d escape into when he felt unseen. 

Part of why Amarys and Carmine get on is that Amarys, despite her need to economise time, is incredibly patient with Carmine. The result is that when Carmine had one of her sporadic meltdowns and lost control of her actions, when Amarys witnessed it, she didn’t question it or scold her, but took her somewhere quiet, and waited it out with her. Carmine feels incredibly grateful to Amarys for that, and as such, she doesn’t feel she needs to be defensive around her so much as she does around others. 

Carmine always has a huge supply of snacks hidden in her room, and she insists on sharing them with Amarys. She tried to share them with Kieran during his breakdown, but he refused to touch them, which was a sign of something being very, very wrong.

Carmine gets surprisingly homesick when she’s at Blueberry, and has been known to call her grandparents at 3am Unova time because she needs company, and doesn’t know where else to reach out. Occasionally, if she still feels awful, or if she feels she can’t call them for whatever reason, she’ll go to Amarys’ room and just sit with her, maybe making conversation, maybe just being there, proving she isn’t alone.

During his breakdown, Kieran tended to train in the Canyon Biome when he couldn’t sleep. Juliana once found him there at 1 in the morning, as she gets horrid insomnia, and tends to explore her surroundings so she can escape the dread of watching the ceiling. While Kieran ostensibly hated her at this point, as this was prior to the championship match, he reluctantly let her roll out a picnic table and make him a sandwich. He scarcely ate any of it, but he appreciated her company, not that he’d be caught dead admitting as much. (He insisted on cleaning up and walking her back to the dorms. Ostensibly, he still hated her, but…)

Carmine and Kieran use their grandfather’s surname in most things, but legally, their surname is Achroma. 

Their mother is still in their life here and there – she meets up with the two of them, and is proud of them both for making it this far, but Carmine remembers how poorly her mother understood her, and tends to get oddly quiet around her nowadays, hoping she’ll approve slightly more now. Kieran gets on horribly with his mother, in that she clearly neither likes him nor understands him, and he feels downright betrayed by her.

Their father is mostly absent, but has, on a couple of occasions, randomly sent books and gadgets to BB Academy, with these books and gadgets all dedicated To Carmine/Kieran – keep working hard!. He knows they’re enrolled there, which means he’s gone out of the way to find that out. The siblings know, vaguely, that he’s out there. Carmine is outwardly resentful of his absence, but secretly wishes she could meet him. Kieran’s bitter, but curious about his father.

Carmine got the mobile phone in the family in part because Kieran tends to hog the home desktop back in Mossui. As of second year, Kieran’s grandparents have yielded and given him a phone, too, so that if he starts to break down again (God forbid), they can contact him directly, instead of having to go through Carmine/the school. He does have an Instagram, and he refuses to accept Carmine’s follow request. 

When Kieran went back to Blueberry after his breakdown, he noticed that the notorious Colress of Team Plasma had a bit of an internet paper trail. Late at night, Kieran would follow this paper trail, working out over the course of weeks that Colress may well be one Mr. Achroma. This prompted mixed feelings, for while Kieran was terrified of his potential to go mad in the pursuit of power again, he couldn’t help but think that his dad, deadbeat and thrice-convicted criminal that he was, was at least a little bit cool.

On a forum where Colress was still periodically active, Kieran managed to reach out and politely ask about his research on strength. He did this half out of genuine curiosity about how to get better as a trainer, half as a way of screaming into the void – are you out there, Dad, and can you hear me?

Unbelievably, Colress responded. Since he’d been able to tell that the message was sent by a kid or teen, but a smart kid or teen who’d clearly actually read his work and gone to the trouble of finding him, he felt impressed enough not to be worried. (To be fair, Colress is incredibly laissez-faire about most things except his research.) As a result, they now correspond periodically. So far, Kieran’s let slip that he’s at Blueberry Academy, and that he’s a second-year, as well as mentioning once that he’s from Kitakami. He does not know whether Colress has connected the dots, but every day, he hopes he will, somehow, and that if/when he does, he’ll show that he still cares (if he ever did at all. And how Kieran hopes Colress did, indeed, care).

Carmine knows about this correspondence. She’s scolded Kieran for it, but she also insists on staying updated on what’s going on. 

Someday, Kieran wants to battle in the PWT. When he gets to that point, he’ll register himself as Kieran Colress, and won’t tell a soul (except Juliana or Amarys) why he’d dare draw his stage name from a notorious amoral scientist.

[4sthetic-1nspiration-0f-4rt]

why moving abroad could be good for autistics/schizophrenics

Hear me out…. When you are obviously not a local and don’t have the accent, people will assume you aren’t fluent in their language. so if you speak very bluntly and matter of factly in their language, people will assume it is due to your linguistic limitations rather then thinking you’re weird/off putting. E.g. I see a room and I (English is my 1st language) would say, “it looks like…academia-ish”, but someone who isn’t a native speaker is more likely to say “this room has an academia style” because the later is easier to translate rather then made up words and unnecessary additions like ‘like’. So when you say matter of fact/blunt things, I think people will give you more grace. When you do become fluent….strangers don’t need to know that. People who aren’t close to you don’t know how fluent you are and if you don’t look/sound like a local they will assume you aren’t fluent anyway. If someone asks to speak English, you can just say you need practice and use your normal way of speaking in their language. They don’t know the way you speak in English is the same. 

Another way this could help is when you do inevitably become fluent, depending on where you go, you could get an at home translating job where you just transcribe documents and don’t have be around people. I don’t know what quailifies someone as a document translator though so research this if you are interested, you might even need a degree/qualification idk. Also consider the country. Like in Sweden they don’t need a translator, most people are fluent in English, but in china or Japan a good English translator would be needed. 

When you are a foreigner, locals might be more likely to leave you alone or be more drawn to talk to you, depending on the country. When you move country everyone finds making friends difficult, and if you are neurodivergent that will likely be even harder and might make you feel more isolated so keep that in mind.

If you are studying abroad you can get benefits without having to disclose your disability. By that I mean there are many grants/ initiatives to encourage people to study abroad. These have nothing to do with neurodivergence. Financial aid of course will help but the main reason I add this is because they often have extra support for international students to find housing/travel and show you how things work. People can be less judgemental if you ask lots of questions, even basic ones because they don’t expect you to know how everything works in their country. There are usually dedicated people whose entire job it is to help international students set up their life.

Back to the language aspect. I find learning a new language to be very helpful in knowing what to say and who to say it to, because unlike in your native language you are explicitly told what to say/not say in different settings. Things like addressing people mainly. Speaking matter of factly/plainly also makes you seem more professional I feel. People are often more patient with you as well if you take a few seconds to answer a question, because again they assume you are translating to yourself (even though secretly you are fluent and just need a few seconds for your social engine to start up hehe). Because of these things I feel more equipped socially and that there’s less pressure to mask, because people will almost make up excuses for you (mainly language barrier). So just don’t let on you’re fluent unless you can unmask around them. 

It sucks we have to get around these things, but while we still do, I hope this helps someone! This is of course not for everyone but if you wanted to move abroad anyway (looking at you Americans-sorry your country is like that), maybe moving to a country that doesn’t speak your language(s) would be beneficial!

[dontyouworrydaddy]

could uou write 141 boys + könig with a mute and shy s/o? i just imagined her being insecure about her condition and keeping quiet most of the time bc people think its too difficult to learn ASL to communicate with her

𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝒶𝓁𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔

Task Force 141 (+König) + fem! reader

Absolutely! I love this idea! I feel like they would secretly learn ASL while you’re sleeping and as soon as they learn a bit sign language, they‘d come and proudly show you!

Whatever your condition is, remember that you’re beautiful and loved.❤️ I hope you enjoy love<3

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

König

One quiet evening, you found yourself lost in your thoughts, feeling the weight of your silent existence press upon you. König always attuned to your emotions, approached you with a tenderness that surprised you.

"Liebling" he spoke softly, his voice carrying an unexpected gentleness. "You have a voice that speaks volumes without uttering a single word. I've seen the strength in your eyes, the way you navigate the world with unwavering resilience. It's a language all its own."

You tried to respond, to convey your gratitude through gestures, because words failed you. König understood, as he always did, and a ghost of a smile played on his lips.

"People may think learning ASL is difficult" he continued, his voice unwavering. "But what they fail to understand is that true communication goes beyond spoken words."

As König's words consumed within you, a sense of hope ignited. Here was someone who saw beyond the limitations of your silence, who valued the depth of your character without the need for spoken conversation.

In that moment, König's dedication to unraveling the mysteries of the world aligned with his newfound mission—to break down the barriers that confined you. He began learning ASL, dedicating his time and effort to becoming fluent in the language of your heart.

Days turned into weeks and as König studied ASL, you witnessed his unwavering commitment to bridging the communication gap. With each signed word, each gesture, his actions spoke louder than any spoken language ever could.

One evening, as König stood before you, his hands gracefully forming the signs that carried your silent voice, tears welled up in your eyes. For the first time, you felt truly seen and understood.

"I" König signed, his gaze unwavering. "I love you. And I will never stop loving you. You are enough."

Overwhelmed by emotions, you reached out and gently touched his hand, your silent gratitude pouring forth. In that moment, all doubt and insecurity melted away, replaced by an unshakeable bond of trust and understanding.

Simon Riley

The world often misunderstood your muted existence, dismissing your presence as an inconvenience. This led you to retreat further into your shell, convinced that your voiceless nature was a barrier too difficult for others to overcome. But little did you know, Simon saw beyond your silence and wanted to bridge the gap that separated you.

As weeks passed, Simon embarked on a secret journey of his own. He was focused on learning ASL, determined to communicate with you on a deeper level. He spent countless hours studying and practicing, his dedication fueled by the desire to show you just how much you meant to him.

One day, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Simon approached you with a glimmer of nervous anticipation in his eyes. His hands moved hesitantly, fingers forming signs that conveyed a message he had longed to share. It took you a moment to comprehend what was happening, but when the realization dawned on you, tears welled up in your eyes.

"You" Simon began, his hands shaping the words, "are not alone. I love you and I would do anything for you. You are the love of my life. "

Overwhelmed by the depth of his gesture, you felt a surge of emotions welling up inside you. The tears cascaded down your cheeks as you embraced Simon, his arms enveloping you in a warm and comforting embrace.

John MacTavish

You guys were on a date together, a small café was your chosen destination. The soft ambiance and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, creating an intimate setting for your evening together. Though you felt at ease with John, a flicker of anxiety lingered in the back of your mind.

You exchanged glances, a subtle dance of unspoken emotions passing between you. John's eyes held an understanding that went beyond words. Sensing your unease, he reached out and gently clasped your hand, his touch providing solace in the sea of doubt.

Leaning closer, John whispered "Love, I want you to know that your voice matters to me. I've taken the time to learn something special for you."

Your eyes widened, a mix of surprise and curiosity flooding your expression. Slowly, John's hands moved, gracefully shaping the words of sign language. He had learned to communicate with you, not just through spoken words but through the beautiful dance of hands.

A radiant smile stretched across your face, a blossoming hope filling your heart. John's commitment and effort to bridge the gap between your worlds touched you deeply. The weight of insecurity began to lift, replaced by a newfound sense of belonging.

As the evening progressed, you found comfort in the way John answered your questions with his hands, his signing fluid and graceful. He embraced the silent conversation with a natural ease, making you feel seen and understood in ways you had longed for.

John Price

Your silence often made you feel invisible or burdensome. But john saw you for who you truly were…a unique and remark rkable person. He understood the weight of your insecurities and the struggles you faced with communication. Determined to show you that you were valued and cherished, he planned a special date to help you feel more at ease.

As you and John embarked on your date, you couldn't help but feel a mixture of excitement and apprehension. You sat across from each other in a cozy restaurant, the atmosphere filled with gentle conversation and soft music. But as the evening unfolded, your shyness seemed to envelop you, making it difficult for you to express yourself.

John, ever perceptive, noticed your discomfort. His brows furrowed with concern as he searched for a way to bridge the communication gap. And then, an idea sparked in his eyes, a glimmer of determination to make you feel understood.

With a warm smile, John placed his hands on the table, fingers poised to communicate in sign language. It was a language he had learned, not for duty or necessity, but solely for the purpose of connecting with you.

His hands moved gracefully, forming signs that echoed like poetry, bridging the gap between your worlds. As he signed, he answered your unspoken questions, assuaging your fears and insecurities. Through his actions, he showed you that your voice, though silent, was still heard and cherished.

Time seemed to stand still as you watched him sign, your heart swelling with a newfound sense of belonging. You mustered the courage to ask questions, feeling more secure in the knowledge that he understood you.

With each question, John responded in kind, his hands dancing through the air, painting a beautiful tapestry of understanding. He spoke with his gestures, his touch, and the unwavering look in his eyes, conveying a love and acceptance that needed no words.

As the evening wore on, you found yourself laughing, engaging, and truly connecting with John in ways you had never experienced before. The barriers that once held you captive began to crumble, and in their place bloomed a sense of confidence.

Kyle Garrick

You navigated the complexities of being mute, a burden of insecurity weighed heavily on your heart. But Kyle had taken it upon himself to learn sign language in secret, determined to bridge the communication gap and show you that your voice mattered.

One day, as you sat together in an empty yet peaceful park, you reached for your phone, preparing to type out a message to convey your thoughts. However, before you could even unlock the device, you noticed a glimmer of familiarity in Kyle's eyes. His lips curved into a gentle smile, and his hands started to move in a graceful dance.

In awe, you watched as Kyle's hands formed the words you had longed to hear. "Baby" he signed, his eyes fixed on yours, "you don't need to pull out your phone. You can talk to me, right here, just by looking at me."

Tears welled up in your eyes, and a mix of disbelief and joy filled your heart. Never before had you experienced such understanding and acceptance. With a shy smile of your own, you mustered the courage to respond, using the language of your hands to form the words that had long been trapped within you.

"I... I didn't know," you signed, your hands trembling with a mixture of vulnerability and gratitude. "Thank you... for learning sign language... for seeing me."

Kyle's expression softened as he reached out, his fingertips brushing against yours in a tender gesture. His eyes conveyed a depth of emotions that mere words could never capture. "Love…" he signed, his hands moving with purpose, "you deserve to be heard, to be understood. I wanted to learn sign language because I wanted to connect with you, to show you that you're not alone."

[pastellar1ne]

Gray.

Okay the people want headcanons and I don't know where to start but I guess I should lay the foundations with some background for contextual purposes. I'm starting to write this at nearly 2am so please forgive any errors, and I'm starting with Gray because I'm brainrotting him specifically right now

Charlotte was born in France to a single 19-year-old mother, Camille Monet. Camille's boyfriend abandoned her when he found out that she was pregnant because he didn't want the responsibilities of fatherhood that young, and a lot of her family cut ties with her for having a child that young because they believed that it made her a 'slut'. This left Camille without much financial or childcare support when raising Charlotte, and this was especially difficult with already being lower class.

Thankfully for Camille, Charlotte was far from a problem child, even if she was a little weird. She matured and gained independence relatively early due to Camille often having to leave her home alone while she worked long hours to support them, she helped out with a lot of chores around the house because she understood that her mum was tired and already working a lot, and she was consistently good in school - both in behaviour and academics.

Camille often bragged about how good her daughter Charlotte was to the friends she gained over the years, and held her achievements high for others to see, as if they were her own - as if she wasn't leaving her daughter in the dark. At 15, Charlotte's perceived weirdness was explained when she was diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder due to recommendations from her school, and Camille left that in the dark with her - believing that a disability 'dirtied' the achievements.

However, Charlotte's autism became harder for Camille to ignore when she took a step forward in her special interest and temporarily moved away to attend a conservatoire for acting. Charlotte had always had a deep interest for acting, particularly in silent films, and miming; even attending theatre courses during her time in lycée - but Camille had always assumed that it was a fleeting interest, something she would not pursue as a career. She never believed her daughter to be serious when it was discussed; it was just a childish dream, her daughter would understand that as she grew older, she had hoped, and pick something more realistic.

When Charlotte returned home from her studies three years later, Camille hoped to discuss her concerns about her career path with her; she longed to reason with her, to help her come to a more realistic conclusion - but the discussion came sooner, and more violently, than she had hoped, when her daughter proposed something new.

Gray.

Her daughter claimed to be a son.

Camille and Charlotte had a horrible argument that night, of the likes of which neither of them had ever had before - or anticipated having. Camille despised her daughter's decisions - the way that she longed for a dream that was impossible, a dream that she had wasted money and time on to have an education in, and the way that she believed such a blasphemous idea. To be a son. To no longer be an achievement. An argument so awful that, despite their past connections, Charlotte promptly packed her things, and was gone within the week.

Not just from home, but from France, and from Europe as a whole.

Charlotte moved to the United States, where she hoped to rebuild not only her life, but herself. Despite what her mother believed, despite what her mother had said that night; Charlotte was going to be a silent film actor - but not as she was now. The world would know his name.

Charlotte worked multiple jobs for several years, as she collected experience to boost her in her future acting career, and began to learn American Sign Language - eventually choosing to become voluntarily mute, once finally fluent and comfortable. Experience wasn't the only thing she collected however; as she found herself saving money. Money that, one day, finally changed her. Made him who he truly was. Charlotte walked into the doctor's office for the last time that morning, and Gray walked out.

He had never felt more free.

He had never felt so much like a person. Something beyond an achievement. Something of his own.

Not long after healing from his transition, Gray began auditioning at film studios; desperately attempting to propose his idea - to sell it someone, something, somewhere. For a moment, Gray worried for the reality in what his mother had said that night; until somewhere returned his call.

Starr Studios.

Okay that's it :33 thank you for reading if you got this far, I'll probably reblog this with some headcanons that directly relate sometime tomorrow... finishing writing this at nearly 3am. Goodnight everyone