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[tutevee]

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[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Whumpers, what are your earliest memories?

Mine is from when I was about two or three. I was in a stroller, at my cousin’s Irish dancing recital. After the recital, my aunts were talking down to me in the stroller, and to each other. I was experiencing extreme anxiety because I couldn’t understand what they were saying, when I felt I should have been able to communicate with them like they were communicating with each other. I was also very tired and dazed. I did not cry though… I probably looked normal on the outside.

I also remember when I was about four or five, I went to the beach with my dad and one of his friends. I somehow found my way onto the dock, planted my little rear end on a jet ski, untethered it from the dock, and started floating into the sunset. There was an old lady lounging in a donut inflatable out some way; she said something to me, but I couldn’t understand what she said, despite trying really hard. I’m assuming it was something along the lines of “Oh my god get off that jet ski you’re going to fucking DIE, kid,” but again… couldn’t understand a word of what she said, and got frustrated because she was speaking English (without an accent) and I should know how to understand adults speaking English to me.

At this point, my dad is yelling at me from across the water, and a young lifeguard drags the jet ski back. On land, my dad lectured at me very harshly as he led me back to the car. I didn’t know I had done anything wrong, and was very confused. At some point this guy starts quoting the Bible at me, and the only thing I could pick out were the words (spoken very emphatically), “Your days are numbered.”

“My days are numbered?” cue a vivid mental image of a calendar, with dates listed for every day of the week, “What does that mean?” Later on I figured out this was the Bible’s way of referencing death at God’s hand which just made me even more confused as to what I did, until at age thirteen, I figured out, “Oh a baby who can’t swim floating on a jet ski is terrifying, actually.”

Tagging: @kaleidoscopr @redd956 @hereissomething @astudyinpanda @c0ldbrains @straight-to-the-pain

[tutorinkarachi]

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[valeriehalla]

actual writing advice

1. Use the passive voice.

What? What are you talking about, “don’t use the passive voice”? Are you feeling okay? Who told you that? Come on, let’s you and me go to their house and beat them with golf clubs. It’s just grammar. English is full of grammar: you should go ahead and use all of it whenever you want, on account of English is the language you’re writing in.

2. Use adverbs.

Now hang on. What are you even saying to me? Don’t use adverbs? My guy, that is an entire part of speech. That’s, like—that’s gotta be at least 20% of the dictionary. I don’t know who told you not to use adverbs, but you should definitely throw them into the Columbia river.

3. There’s no such thing as “filler”.

Buddy, “filler” is what we called the episodes of Dragon Ball Z where Goku wasn’t blasting Frieza because the anime was in production before Akira Toriyama had written the part where Goku blasts Frieza. Outside of this extremely specific context, “filler” does not exist. Just because a scene wouldn’t make it into the Wikipedia synopsis of your story’s plot doesn’t mean it isn’t important to your story. This is why “plot” and “story” are different words!

4. okay, now that I’ve snared you in my trap—and I know you don’t want to hear this—but orthography actually does kind of matter

First of all, a lot of what you think of as “grammar” is actually orthography. Should I put a comma here? How do I spell this word in this context? These are questions of orthography (which is a fancy Greek word meaning “correct-writing”). In fact, most of the “grammar questions” you’ll see posted online pertain to orthography; this number probably doubles in spaces for writers specifically.

If you’re a native speaker of English, your grammar is probably flawless and unremarkable for the purposes of writing prose. Instead, orthography refers to the set rules governing spelling, punctuation, and whitespace. There are a few things you should know about orthography:

English has no single orthography. You already know spelling and punctuation differ from country to country, but did you know it can even differ from publisher to publisher? Some newspapers will set parenthetical statements apart with em dashes—like this, with no spaces—while others will use slightly shorter dashes – like this, with spaces – to name just one example.

Orthography is boring, and nobody cares about it or knows what it is. For most readers, orthography is “invisible”. Readers pay attention to the words on a page, not the paper itself; in much the same way, readers pay attention to the meaning of a text and not the orthography, which exists only to convey that meaning.

That doesn’t mean it’s not important. Actually, that means it’s of the utmost importance. Because orthography can only be invisible if it meets the reader’s expectations.

You need to learn how to format dialogue into paragraphs. You need to learn when to end a quote with a comma versus a period. You need to learn how to use apostrophes, colons and semicolons. You need to learn these things not so you can win meaningless brownie points from your English teacher for having “Good Grammar”, but so that your prose looks like other prose the reader has consumed.

If you printed a novel on purple paper, you’d have the reader wondering: why purple? Then they’d be focusing on the paper and not the words on it. And you probably don’t want that! So it goes with orthography: whenever you deviate from standard practices, you force the reader to work out in their head whether that deviation was intentional or a mistake. Too much of that can destroy the flow of reading and prevent the reader from getting immersed.

You may chafe at this idea. You may think these “rules” are confusing and arbitrary. You’re correct to think that. They’re made the fuck up! What matters is that they were made the fuck up collaboratively, by thousands of writers over hundreds of years. Whether you like it or not, you are part of that collaboration: you’re not the first person to write prose, and you can’t expect yours to be the first prose your readers have ever read.

That doesn’t mean “never break the rules”, mind you. Once you’ve gotten comfortable with English orthography, then you are free to break it as you please. Knowing what’s expected gives you the power to do unexpected things on purpose. And that’s the really cool shit.

5. You’re allowed to say the boobs were big if the story is about how big the boobs were

Nobody is saying this. Only I am brave enough to say it.

Well, bye!

[languageboutique]

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[narcjsistx]

𝐅𝐔𝐓𝐁𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐀 | OS

sae itoshi x fem reader ; words: 10k (10.051)

plot: having just arrived in spain, Sae notices that he's having trouble learning spanish. so he's advised to download an online game, but he never expected to play with the country's champion, who unexpectedly... is a girl?!. what if he has a crush on this girl who lives kilometres away from him?

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!

SAE ITOSHI knew he was a genius, whether it was sports or anything else besides school. He was Japan's rising prodigy, having just moved countries just to undergo training that would bring him to absolute perfection. If that meant he wasn't a genius, then he didn't know what was. He had skills that kids his age didn't have, whether it was dribbling or simply passing the ball to a teammate, who was usually his younger brother Rin. He had the potential to become one of the best in the world, if not the best, at the tender age of 13, when the kids at his old school were still just starting to decide what to do as an after school job. He knew he was a genius, a prodigy

What he knew all too well was that school and its activities were not for him. Not that he did not have the ability, but objectively he had spent more time on the field than in the classroom since he was a child. The time that technically should have been spent at school was spent perfecting his technique or competing in some tournament in his prefecture, and all of this was impacting his ability to learn something new academically, like a new language. He was no longer in Japan

Japan and Spain were different

Japanese and Spanish were different

And of course, inside a football school in the center of Spain, in Madrid, he couldn't bring himself to speak Japanese anymore. For the first few days he tried, but no one understood him; then he tried with English, but that didn't work very well either. Sooner or later he would have to learn Spanish, and that moment had come true exactly one week after his arrival, when the coach had advised him to attend the free course that the school offered to foreign soccer players

He hated it, but he had started talking a little

"Mi nombre es Sae, mi apellido es Itoshi... mi deporte favorido es el futbol, yo soy un jugador de futbol de el club de el ReAl..." the boy repeats under his breath, writing down in his notebook the sentences that his mind formulates. Spanish was not like Japanese, which was written in a completely different way. It was a bit complicated, but he would never admit it out loud. Furthermore, he was the only one in his class, besides his teacher. The other foreign players had left, at least he knew that, already knowing a basic level of the language. Not him

"Still having trouble, Sae?" asks the man, leaning over to read the boy's notebook. He didn't dislike the professor, but his subject "No" says the boy, even though he doesn't yet know how to write the word 'apellido'. The teacher looks at the notebook for a few more seconds, then sighs as he sits down in the chair next to the boy, who watches him. He knew very well that he was stressing the man with his mistakes, very often made also due to few attention. He didn't blame him when he was nervous precisely because of him "You know, Sae... I think you have a problem with Spanish. I mean, you can write it pretty well and you're starting to speak it a little bit with the team members, I know that... but you're constantly forgetting it. You're forgetting the basics because you don't have something that's constantly pushing you to speak or write it" says the man, and this catches the attention of the little striker "Excuse me, what?" says the boy, seeing the man having a bit of difficulty explaining it to him "I don't even know how to explain it to you well. I've been teaching foreign members of ReAl for years but no one has ever been like you. You know, but you forget. You can say a sentence in perfect Spanish now and not know a basic rule of grammar in twenty seconds" says the man, and this makes the Japanese kid turn up his nose a little "Do you have proof of that?" asks "Can you tell me the names of the soccer roles in Spanish?" the man asks, and Sae thinks about it "Portero, centrocampista, defensor... atacante" says the boy, and the man nods "Good. And the '!' rule? How does it work?" he asks, and this time it's Sae who sighs. He doesn't even remotely remember it

The man nods, taking the notebook from him as he writes something on it "The '!' should be placed at the beginning of the sentence and at the end of the sentence, if it is an exclamation. At the beginning '¡' and at the end '!'" he writes and repeats aloud, and Sae can't help but admit that he's right. The room where they are both is silent for a few seconds, then the man writes something else in the notebook, placing it in front of him. Sae looks down, reading the name of something he has heard before "Futbolandia?" he reads aloud, and the man nods "It's an online game. It's about soccer, so you should like it. You can talk to other Spanish people while you play, or write in the chat, in Spanish of course. My daughter plays it, that's why I know it" the man says, and Sae looks at him a little perplexed "I've never played video games, not even when I was in Japan. I find them boring" he explains, but the teacher silences him almost immediately "You'll learn to love them. You want to become the best in the world, right? If you can't even beat a boss in this game, how can you expect to get to the Champions League?"

And so, in his dorm which was basically a small apartment, Sae was putting the game card into the console he had received thanks to the team staff. He still thought video games were boring, but proving the teacher right would have cost his dearly young ego. So he had spent a part of his salary to take this game online, which actually cost really little. Thanks to the internet he understood that it was simply a game where you were a soccer player without a salary, and the more you beat people online in random matches the more the teams offered money to join their team. The teams were real ones, like ReAl or the Italian Ubers, or even teams created by users. The more you entered a famous and rich league the higher your salary went, and once you reached a certain amount of fake money you could create your own team or become president of a group of teams. The game wasn't that boring, maybe

Sitting on the edge of his bed with the joystick in his hand the television turns on, revealing the game's start screen. After registration, an avatar appears that can be customized, and Sae had decided to change only the color of his hair, opting for a reddish color. He was a little more like his avatar now. He had started "play" immediately after, happening in the first game: they were all members probably newly registered like him, since they had no visible salary. There was voice chat open, but for the moment he preferred to remain silent: he heard people screaming in Spanish, and he understood little of what they were saying as they played. It wasn't time to talk

Unexpectedly, the game was more interesting than he thought. It had basic rules, but the online casual games were fun enough to play. And so, from having a zero salary, a few hours later his avatar already had the possibility of joining a team, since the real and created ones had made him offers. However, he had not yet spoken in the voice chat, still a little perplexed. As he waited for the new game to load, Sae noticed that his avatar had been matched with a much higher level team. The team was called "Kombucha Salty", which made him chuckle a bit. As the match begins, Sae notices how the team is noticeably very strong, but he also notices how the voice chat is calm, not full of shouts like he has always heard it until now. And until now he has always heard only male voices. Now, among the many, a female one stands out, and it's quite pretty. He doesn't even know why, but the calm reassures him that he can open the voice chat this time

"Hola" says the boy, and for a few seconds everyone is silent "What player are you?" asks a male voice "The number 27" replies Sae, and he can hear more than one person nodding "You're great" says someone else "Thanks" replies the boy, but he's trying to hear the female voice again, which has suddenly disappeared since he spoke. The match continues, the team scores the first goal "That was a good pass, right Y/n?" asks a male voice "It was!" the female voice replies

Sae, hearing the voice, stops moving the joystick for a few seconds. He hears the girl giggling, while she continues to play her game. It's strange to hear her talking among the many male voices surrounding her and her avatar, but it's as if he can separate her just to hear her voice. It is a particularly beautiful voice to his ears, which could easily be that of some singer; it's almost melodious, even though he has always heard many female voices, whether it is his mother's or his classmate's. But this one, this one he likes more than he normally should like a single voice

"Are you still alive, madridfan?" the voice asks, and Sae comes to life, moving his joystick "What? How did you call me?" he asks, and the female giggles "With your username. You have to earn a certain amount of salary to change it to a personalized one" she says, and her avatar passes the ball "I thought I had it set up differently. But then, why madridfan?" he asks, a little perplexed as he tries to steal the ball "The site creates the usernames by taking the position where the users play and putting the word 'fan' next to it. Are you from Madrid?" he asks, and Sae nods "I'm in Madrid at the moment" he replies, and the girl nods "Madrid is beautiful. My mother often sends me photos of the city, she lives there" the girl says, and Sae is intrigued "Aren't you from Madrid too?" he asks "No. I lived there for a little while when I was little, but I don't remember anything" the girl says, and her avatar freezes for a few seconds, then starts moving against the ball again "Do you like Madrid?" she asks, and he huffs a bit "Quite. I haven't visited it properly yet" he admits, stealing the ball as his avatar starts running, followed by the girl's "I thought you were born there. But you actually have a foreign accent. You speak good Spanish, though. You even know how to play this damn game" she replies, and he nods "Thanks. I'm Japanese, actually" he says, the ball approaching the net "Are you in Spain for a vacation?" she asks, stealing the ball "Sort of" he admits, and the girl giggles "Cool"

The game goes on in silence, proving quite difficult for both. Sae often tries to signal goals, but each time the girl's avatar steals the ball from him, passing it to another player. It's not stupid that she has such a high salary, after all she is really good. Also, the strange thing for him is that she is a woman: not that he has any prejudice, or maybe he does, but he has never seen soccer or online games about soccer as something for girls. The girls in his school preferred classic dance, instead of soccer. He has always been used to this, furthermore his prefecture did not have a women's soccer team. They were two opposite things for him, soccer and women

But this Y/n was damn strong at this game

The ball, in a last ditch attempt, is passed to a member of the team, who however has it stolen by a member of the girl's team, who immediately passes it to her. Her avatar runs so fast that it is impossible to catch up, while the ball quickly approaches the net, scoring a goal. The boys' voices explode in a satisfied scream while Sae, annoyed, puts the joystick down next to him. It was a pretty tough match, but he wanted to win, a bit like in everything he does. But when he hears the girl's carefree laughter, his annoyance vanishes a bit. The end of game appears on the screen, marking the last 5 seconds before voice chat closes. Sae doesn't know what to say, he was so fascinated by the girl's voice that he is surprised that now he has to abandon her, with the absolute certainty of not being able to hear her anymore. After all, these are random matches, there is little or no chance of ending up in a match a second time. It all started and ended in less than 15 minutes, that perhaps marked him a bit

He didn't even know why he was reacting this way, so out of character. Maybe it was the lack of home that made him react this way. Maybe the voice sounded a little like his mother's or Rin's, that's why he was so surprised. After all, he had left Japan relatively recently. Maybe this really was the cause, even if he didn't believe it was

The game officially closes voice chat, displaying Sae's profile screen, complete with his avatar and a slight increase in his salary. The girl is officially gone, her voice no longer filling his dorm room. Sae feels a strange sensation in his chest, he can't explain how and it bothers him; he's never been good with words, he knows that, but why can't he explain to himself this sudden attachment to such a trivial thing, a voice?. It's as if, since he arrived here, these 15 minutes were the most peaceful he's ever lived. He would never admit it, but his life is so complicated now that he often doesn't even have time to think. It's different from being at home in Japan, with Rin scoring goals thanks to his passes and the crowd cheering every time the ball ends up in the net. Here he has even more precise timetables than he already had in Japan, and although he got used to them right away, sometimes he finds it tiring to do everything, whether it's training or just spending time in the cafeteria with his teammates. This voice, on the other hand, seemed to have calmed him down, letting him think and breathe. It's so strange

So, while he picks up the joystick again, he decides to at least look at the girl's profile. He goes to the section of users he has recently interacted with, and clicks on the icon that resembles that of the girl's profile: what is shown before his eyes is practically the perfect account, probably one with such high ratings that he has never seen anywhere else. The account features all kinds of things available from the game, be it uniforms or special badges, while above the girl's avatar appears a writing that surprises Sae even more "#1 Official of Spain", title inserted by the game itself. He expected her to be strong, he had seen her playing, but not that strong. Yet, the title stood out on the account tab, which made Sae even more curious about the girl

On her profile she was listed as the president of the largest group of teams in Spain, president of 15 of the 25 in the league. Her salary had 10 zeros, making the number even difficult to pronounce. She was listed as having been in charge of the title for more than 6 months, while the registration had only taken place 10 months before. If this wasn't strange or surprising, Sae didn't know what was. How could she have come up with such a title in such a short time? How much time did she actually spend on the video game? Was she one of those unemployed adult women who found satisfaction in online games?

Nah, she couldn't have been an adult. Her voice was too shrill for that, maybe she was even younger than him. But this was impossible, since the minimum age of the game was 13, so maybe she was a little older than him. This did not change how surprising the result was, so surprising that Sae didn't immediately notice the notification at the side of the screen

"Kombucha Salty" offered you a new salary"

Without even seeing the offer, Sae had clicked accept. He didn't even know why he was doing that, after all, what were the chances that it was that girl who sent him the offer? Besides, only presidents were allowed to send offers, and he wasn't sure if she was the president of that team

The console screen showed the page dedicated to the team he had just joined, marking which members were active and which were not. The team's personal voice chat was open, but did not show who was in. Honestly, he didn't really care about making a fool of himself if he went in and out once he was sure she wasn't in the voice chat, he just cared about hearing her voice again and knowing she was there. Maybe he was exaggerating, after all he didn't know anything about her and the team, but there was something in him that told him he had to check, and now

Entering the chat, Sae noticed that no one was talking about soccer, but more about very random things, like school. There were about 5 or 6 people online, but he immediately recognized the girl, who was probably talking to a friend of hers. As soon as he entered many fell silent, everyone but her "You again, madridfan?" the girl asks, but not in a mean tone, more in a joking way. Sae nods, a little uncertain "Me again. Someone offered me entry to the club" the boy says "It was me" the girl says, and Sae can swear that for the first time since he's been here in Spain, he feels a small smile form on his lips. Luckily it's all online, it would have been embarrassing to see him smile "Oh. Thank you"

The girl giggles, a sound that makes the boy's muscles relax a bit "You were pretty strong in the game, I must admit! We only want strong members here, members who hate Kombucha"

This is the comment that makes Sae frown. He loves Kombucha, it's practically his favorite thing in the world. Especially the salty one, it's delicious

"The club name is misleading. I thought you liked Kombucha... not that I do" he says, and she nods "I know. That's why the group is strong, because we create confusion!" she says happily, and some of the men laugh with her. It's not exactly the answer he was expecting, he didn't even expect to lie about his tastes, but at the moment doing so seems like the right option. Sae nods, thinking a bit "I see. Cool" he says, and the girl seems a little uncertain "Don't tell me you like Kombucha" she says, and he shakes his head as if she can see it "No" he says, and she snorts "You're not telling me the truth!" he says, and Sae is a little in trouble "What would be the consequences?" he asks, and he hears her giggle "The enormous wrath of the champion of Spain" she says, and this makes him relax a little "I can't imagine how big it's. Bigger than the whole Japan" he says, and she laughs even louder "Of course! Wait, which is bigger, Japan or Spain?" she asks, and this makes the boy think a little, confused "I think Spain?"

In that moment, Sae hears his phone ring. He turns around, noticing the time on the screen: he should have been at practice for 5 minutes already, yet he is still sitting on his bed, and the coach is calling him. Before he even has a chance to hear the girl respond, he disconnects the voice chat, grabbing his phone and his workout bag, and storming out of his apartment. He was never late, he was always punctual, and yet that simple girl had made him lose track of time. He hated being late, but now he hated not being able to hear the girl's voice even more. It was strange, all

So, during the 4 consecutive hours of training, Sae did nothing but think about this strange situation. While kicking the ball he thought about how the girl could be physically and character wise, and he didn't know why but he imagined her with short black hair. She was probably a little older than him, maybe 15, but he wasn't sure. He just knew he wanted to talk to her one more time, and then another, and another. She had completely changed the cold and weird nature of the boy, who maubey was looking for a minimum of affection and compliments, the ones he was used to at home in Japan, from someone. And that someone seemed to be her, suddenly

Back in his apartment, hours later, he remembered that he had left the console with the game on. He had been running, so it remained as he had left it. It wasn't that strange after all, but as he approached the screen he noticed how there was a +1 on the private chat, something he had never used. It could have been anyone, right?

"I checked, and Spain is bigger"

The bag hit the floor as he reached for the joystick, typing the letters as quickly as possible

"I expected that. Although I think there is little difference between the two countries. Maybe Japan has more inhabitants"

"I don't think so"

She was also quick to respond to his messages

"I should be worried about having... wait, your name is Y/n, right?"

"Yeah! Can I know yours? Maybe you heard mine from other members of the voice chat"

"My name is Sae. Yes, I heard it from other members. I hope it doesn't bother you"

"Why should it bother me? I'm chiller than you think"

"I see. I expected more aggression from the country's champion"

"Only with those who don't cooperate with me during the random games. Usually I don't even bother talking, I just laugh"

"Cool"

"Do you only know how to use cool at your age?"

"You don't even know how old I am"

"I think about 15. Maybe less"

"I have 13, actually"

"ARE YOU SERIOUSLY THE SAME AGE AS ME???"

"are you 13 too?"

"YEAH!!!"

"I thought you were a few years older than me, honestly. But your high pitched voice gave my theory away"

"Is it really that high pitched? I thought you were older just because of your tone of voice, but maybe it's just the Japanese accent that makes it deeper than it really is"

"It could. Do you understand Japanese?"

"You're the first Japanese person I know, honestly. I've never left Spain and I speak English well... but that's it"

"It's not a small thing to know two languages. I know Japanese because well, I am, but my Spanish is not that good. For now"

"I think the opposite, honestly! You have really good pronunciation, maybe just a little bit in the grammar when you speak... but it doesn't really show that much"

"I have to improve. I have little time to do it"

"Before returning to Japan?"

"More or less"

"I can help you. If you have time, we can play a few games together before I go to sleep. Only if you teach me a little about Japan, though"

"Yes, it can be done. Which server?"

"Wait, I'll send you the link"

This girl was strange, but strangely so easy to get along with. Bedtime games had turned into all night gaming sessions, something Sae had never done; he held his nightly routine sacred, yet it was 2:00 AM and he was still talking to this girl on voice chat, playing yet another game. He wasn't tired, he liked listening to her talk and helping him with his pronunciation. Also, he had the chance to speak Japanese again after a long time, so it was fine with him. The conversations were calm, not going on any serious topic, at least not for that moment: the girl had told him about another girl in her school that she couldn't stand, and he had told him about his younger brother Rin, who he teased about his chubby cheeks. They were normal things, as teenagers as they both were, and yet they sounded so important to Sae's ears, that he didn't miss a single word that came out of the girl's mouth. Maybe he reacted like this, with so much attention, because he actually had no one to talk to about the normal things of adolescence, neither here nor at home

At home in Japan, he was the budding striker prodigy, already famous for his nascent career

Here in Spain the other teenagers like him were busy training for the team of ReAl

Everyone, both at home and here, treated him for what he was, a prodigy. No one treated him for what he really was but which he also hid a little because of his cold nature, that is, a simple teen

Yet this girl didn't know who Sae was, she didn't know anything about him. She didn't treat him differently. They were just chatting like two teenagers would, with an unusual, at least for him, tranquility. It wasn't a given, not at all

"I think I have to go to sleep. We can play tomorrow afternoon, if you want" says the girl after yet another match won, while Sae has tired and sleepy eyes "I don't know if I'm free. In the evening?" he asks, and she nods while her avatar goes offline "Okay. Goodnight, Sae"

The boy turned off the console, while he too was hugging the warm blankets, with the noise of the cars of Madrid in the background. He had recently downloaded that game and yet he was already thinking that it had been one of the best decisions of his life. He would think about the tiredness due to the lack of hours of sleep when he woke up

The next morning, while he was lazily getting ready for practice, he turned on the console just out of curiosity. Not for any reason in particular... maybe. Or at least he liked to believe so. And just as he was logging into the game, a notification appeared on the screen. It came from her

"You didn't specify whether you go to school or not, but if so, have a good day!"

"Thank you. You too"

And so, for the next two weeks after that night, Sae found himself spending every night locked in his dorm, voice chat on and a few drops of eye drops. He had started skipping gym before going to sleep, or rushing to dinner at the canteen, just to turn on the console before. He always played with her, both as a duo and as a team, but honestly he didn't care much about the mode, he just liked hearing her voice and hearing her laugh every time a move went wrong. She treated him like he was normal, while outside that room everyone was scrutinizing him every second of his life; it was a way to break away from the expectations of an entire nation, or maybe two, to be with her. Maybe he was getting soft, he who for 13 years of his life had categorically hated video games, all because of a single voice to which he didn't even give a face, given that in fact neither of them had ever spoken about themselves in an extremely personal way. Not that it weighed on him that much, but he was extremely curious to see who this voice belonged to, which he was starting to dream about even at night, in the few hours when the console was off

“Can I ask you something?” the girl asks, and Sae pauses the game “Tell me” he says, a little curious “Would it be weird if I asked for your phone number? We could just talk... more, if you want"

If this was the god of soccer who was pardoning him after years of pure sacrifice towards this sport, Sae had to thank him, really deeply

"It's not a problem. I'll write it to you in chat" says the boy, but he can't repress the little smile that has formed on his lips, which haven't curved like this for a while now. A small, chuckle can be heard from the voice chat, and Sae couldn't ask for more. What the hell was happening to him?

A few hours later, with his console off and one more contact on his phone, Sae was lying on his bed talking to the girl. He still had to read the messages his parents and his brother Rin had sent him, but he had promised himself that he would do it shortly before falling asleep. Talking to her through messages wasn't that different in the end, but deep down he liked the fact that it was their chat, and that no one else but the two of them had the chance to see what they were talking about. Not that they were serious topics, no, not that yet, it was already a miracle that she had given him her number, honestly if he had been in the same situation he wouldn't have trusted it online. But she was her, he didn't know her very well yet but she didn't seem like a bad person to him. He had never trusted the online world so much, in Japan it was often a place for perverts or anime fanatics, which disgusted him a little, not for the fact itself but for the way these weirdos behaved. It was a bit of a strange place, and even if he wanted to he didn't have time, at home, to be online: if in Japan there were many training sessions, here they had tripled

"Anyway. Do you have any other friends online?"

"You're the first. I've never been online, actually. I didn't have the time or the inclination, honestly"

"This is not cool. I practically live online! jk, but I spend a lot of time there. So I'm your first friend?"

"If you want to put it that way, yes"

"This is cool tho! Wait, so you don't know much about friendship stages, right?"

"Not very much. Zero"

"OH. so you don't know about face reveals or voice reveals...? we skipped the voice stage, but okay. it's normal"

"I don't know anything about it"

"Then, wait"

Before he realized it a picture of a girl appeared on his screen. It was her, it was definitely her. And hell, to say she was beautiful was an understatement, he hadn't expected that. I mean, she was pretty, sure, but this was beyond his standards. She had done it so unexpectedly that he remained staring at her for a few seconds, practically enchanted. He had seen many girls his age but perhaps now the spanish girls, especially her, had an extra place on his list. He noticed the second message after at least a minute

"This is me. It's a face reveal. You don't have to do it, just do it when you feel ready!"

And before he even knew it, he was already sending a photo of himself, one from a few days earlier. Not that there was much difference

"It's okay?"

"MORE THAN OKAY. I imagined you with dark hair, but you're cute, Sae!"

He had received many compliments, but all about his talent, about his ability to play without appearing tired. Never about his physical appearance, it wasn't common

"My brother and my father have dark hair. I could have taken after them"

"Wait, no! I like your reddish. it's special. now I understand why you put your hair that way, on your avatar"

"You are right"

It was from that moment that Sae began to realize that he had a soft spot for that girl. Y/n was simple, she didn't know who he really was, she treated him like no one else treated him. He liked being thought of as normal, at least in his room, when he was on a call with the girl. He could easily be the prodigy of Japan outside his dorm and still be Y/n's online friend. He liked the balance that had transformed during the first weeks, which had now transformed into three months. It was a bit of a special time for Sae, soon he would have his first U-18 match as a member of ReAl. He wasn't anxious, he trusted in his knowledge, but he was worried about something else, something that seemed huge to him, like a big heavy rock: he didn't know if she followed soccer. In fact, she had never said anything very personal about herself, maybe she was reserved in that aspect. Not that he cared. But it was strange, considering how extroverted she was about the rest of things. What would he have done if, by chance, she had seen him?

"Shall we play tomorrow afternoon?" the girl asks, her microphone not receiving the signal well. He has the match tomorrow afternoon, and he's worried about her finding out, not about the match "I... I don't think I can. No, I'm not there" he says, scratching the back of his neck "You usually can! You have something important, you have to meet a girl?" she says jokingly, but he immediately approaches the microphone "NO. I just have to... do some things. I probably won't be there until the afternoon after" he says, but he hears a jolt from the other end "I understand. See you then"

The girl left the game. Silence

Perhaps a more convincing and kind excuse should have been used, since he hadn't explained himself well and perhaps even seemed rude

Maybe Y/n was angry?

Holy shit.

And so, a few hours later on the ReAl bus, Sae felt practically dead. Maybe Y/n had been offended, and besides, tomorrow would be his birthday; he wanted her wishes, yet he was convinced that he would not receive them. He was worried, but he didn't show it outwardly. Not that he had ever done so in the last 13 years of his life, but that wasn't the point. Maybe he should have written to her, asked her if she was offended or even apologized directly. But that wasn't his style. So Sae played the whole match with a little discomfort in his chest, not so big as to confuse him from the main objective, the victory, which happened with a good score of 3-1, with a goal scored by him. The cameras had been filming him since he'd practically entered the field, his name had been shouted so many times by the commentators that the walls probably knew his name by now. If this was a way for Y/n to find out, even though he still hoped not, he was doing it perfectly. Damn. He was hating soccer a little bit

He didn't get his phone back until after midnight, only realizing it was his birthday. He was officially 14, and Y/n hadn't wished him a happy birthday...

"When were you thinking of telling me you were a soccer player? A good one, I must admit"

"You found out"

"Well, my sister is a ReAl fan. The game was also important. When I saw you, I had a shock"

"I can understand it"

"Why didn't you tell me you were famous?"

Maybe it wasn't the right time. But he had to

"You're the only one who treats me like a teenager. Others treat me like a prodigy, you don't. And it's nice to be normal, at least when I talk to you or when we play. I thought you'd change your attitude if you found out"

"I wouldn't have any reason to, Sae. None. I treat you for who you are, for how you deserve to be treated, I'm sorry that it's not a given for you. But you don't have to worry about me, because for me you're just Sae, not Sae Itoshi"

"It's not a given for me. Thank you"

"Please don't lie to me anymore. I hate it when people do that, especially people I care about them so much"

It was strange to feel butterflies in his stomach. For him, at least, it was strange. He didn't even know why he was reacting that way

"And I forgot, happy birthday ♡"

Maybe he knew why she was reacting that way. Maybe he didn't just have a soft spot for her

If the first months were like that, the following ones became the confirmation, at least for him, that perhaps he felt love for her, just for her: he was sure it wasn't even a crush, because he knew it was different. He was really in love, and it worried him a little. He knew about the beautiful side of love, the one where you kiss and hug; his parents loved each other, and often when they kissed he and Rin were disgusted. Sae preferred to run on the beach near the house with a ball between his feet, not to give kisses to anyone, not that he had anyone. But that was in the past, before he came to Spain and met her. The problem was that he didn't even know what love was, since he had never experienced it before: he knew the practice, but after? What happened?. But the problem was that there wasn't even the possibility of practice here, since he was in Madrid and she was in Seville, so many kilometers away

During the other months, she had told him a lot about herself: she lived in Seville, her parents were divorced but still on good terms, her parents worked between Madrid and Seville, especially his mother who was a photographer. She lived with his older sister, who was 21 years old. She was a few months younger than him and loved to keep her hair loose. Also, despite being the champion of the game, she didn't even know how to kick a ball in real life. It was all information that he had recovered over time, thanks to calls and other, but which was important to him, very important

They were separated by 530km, a distance that more than once he had thought of eliminating by using a part of his salary, taking that damned plane ticket that he had saved a few months ago. He wanted to see her, smell her hair, have the chance to hug her. He simply wanted to be for a while by her side, and not on the other side of a screen that often didn't work due to the connection. He simply wanted the chance to hold her hand, if she had ever let him

"I don't think I've ever told you something" the girl says, the screen showing her face as she paints her nails "Remember Kombucha Salty?" she asks, and Sae nods as she heads toward the team's infield "Remember what I told you back then?" she asks, and he rolls his eyes "That was 2 years ago. I don't remember that well" the boy says, and the girl laughs "Okay, we've known each other for a long time, but it seems like a stretch not to remember. Is the color nice?" the girl asks, holding up her reddish nails to the screen. Sae looks at them, nodding "Nice. What were you saying?" he says, and she composes herself "Oh, right. I told you I didn't like kombucha, because I hated it" she says, and Sae suddenly remembers. Actually, she doesn't know that it's his favorite drink, he never told her before that statement "I remember" he says, coming into the infield "Well... I lied to you. I really like kombucha, especially the salty kind! But... I wanted to look cool in front of you, I don't even know why. It's stupid, I was stupid at the time. But now I think about it and I actually never admitted it to you" she says, and Sae's eyes widen a bit "Do you like Kombucha?" he asks surprised, then goes back to his usual demeanor "I like it, I like it a lot. Too bad that here in Seville they make it disgusting, it tastes like shit" she says, and he chuckles internally at her comment "Can I tell you a revelation too?" he asks, and she nods "I love Kombucha too" he says, and this time she's the one who's surprised "ARE YOU SERIOUS?" she asks through the phone, and he nods "Very serious. They make it pretty good in Madrid, I must admit" he says "Fucking lucky, as usual. I want it too" she says, disconsolate

Seeing her like this, Sae can't help but tease her in her head. She's so damn adorable when she does that, whether it's for this or anything else

"As soon as you come to Madrid I'll take you to the place where they do it best. So you can say I'm right he says, but his comment almost seems like an invitation to a possible date. Sae notices how the girl has gone silent, but also the way she's smiling through the screen "I would love to" she says, poorly hiding her embarrassment

If only she knew how much he really wants to do this, take her everywhere, where she wants. If only she knew how much teasing her makes him laugh

"You know, I was thinking" he says, trying to fill the silence that had arisen "I was wondering, we'll see each other sometime, right?" he asks "Well. I think so" she says, yet looking a little uncertain, in Sae's eyes "You think so? Not sure?" he asks, and she snorts "I mean, it will happen sooner or later. But... I can't explain it to you. We've known each other for two years and I trust you, but it would be strange to meet you in person" she says, and this raises an eyebrow to the boy "What do you mean?" he asks, a little defensively "I'm used to the idea of you online, or rather, of the Sae I know. Not the one who plays for ReAl and who kicks the ass of some foreign team every month" she says, and even though her answer makes him chuckle a little, he's not convinced "You didn't answer my question" he says, and the girl seems to be a little under pressure "Forget it" she says, but this makes Sae a little nervous "I'd rather talk about it, and now. Don't you want to see me?" he asks

He doesn't even know why he's getting so nervous, since it's not something he does that often. But the uncertainty in Y/n's eyes doesn't affect him very well. Maybe there's something wrong that he doesn't know about

The girl looks down, nervously playing with a lock of her hair. It's like she's nervous like him, but for other reasons "I want to see you, Sae. But there are other reasons..." she says "What?" he asks

"I don't know whether to hug or kiss you"

If he had been nervous before, now his body was paralyzed. He didn't even want to understand if he had heard the words correctly, perhaps they had come out strangely due to connection problems. But no, it couldn't be. She had said what she had said, and damn, this surprised him so much that for the next 10 seconds he held his breath, as if he were underwater. But actually, since he had known her, he had always been under water: it bothered him to admit that he had grown fond of her in a few hours, that they had now known each other for 2 years, and that for the past 1 year he had considered her as more than just a friend. But Sae wasn't familiar with love, he didn't know how it worked with a person by his side, and above all she wasn't by his side. But actually, at the beginning, he wasn't even familiar with Spanish, which he now spoke perfectly. Could he do the same method with this too, even though she was so far away from him?

And then, after this, he didn't even know what she really thought. He had imagined it many times, but he had always preferred not to talk about it. He had often wondered if he even liked her a little, but she often mixed irony with seriousness, so it was difficult to understand her. Sometimes he succeeded, sometimes he didn't. It was in one of these moments, a fairly important one

"Sorry, what?"

"I'm sorry" she says, a little panicked, bringing the phone closer to her face "Forget it. Pretend that I never said anything, that this conversation never started-" she says "Stop. We can talk about it tonight, calmly ?" he asks. He sees her sigh heavily, a little defeated, as she nods. The phone call ends like this, with her hanging up

The training he was participating in wasn't working. There were another 4 hours left before he could talk to her, lock himself in his dorm and finally clarify the situation: would he have declared himself? He didn't know, although he was considering the option. He knew Y/n, and beyond her usual irony, she really seemed very serious when she said it, and the subsequent panic had betrayed her false irony a bit. He didn't know how to feel, honestly: anxious, maybe a little, but more perplexed. He wasn't afraid to declare himself, he would have done it sooner or later anyway, but the sentence she had said, in that unexpected way, had completely paralyzed him. He had been perpetually anxious for months and months about making strange comments that might have made him disgusting in her eyes and she had come out like that?. Maybe he really didn't know her that well, if he hadn't read her language for so long to understand that, maybe, she had feelings for him too, like him

But if he had eventually declared himself, what would have happened? Would they get together like a couple? Would she have rejected him?

And if they became a couple, how would they make it work? There were the kilometers as obstacles, like the walls that Sae smashed, in his head, when he headed towards the net to score a goal. Would it have been an online relationship?

He was too serious a person to even be anxious about this. He was fucking Sae Itoshi, yet he was becoming a softie for a girl he met online

Maybe he had always been a softie and never realized it, ignoring it by playing soccer in Japan

So finally, without having had dinner, Sae found herself locking himself in his room, once again skipping his nightly gym time. It was anxiety, she hadn't written to him since she hung up and that was unusual, as she often texted him even when she knew he couldn't reply. Without even taking off his sweatshirt he threw himself on his bed for calling the girl, who he sincerely hoped would answer. He didn't know what was going on in her head, maybe she didn't want to talk about it

"Hey" says the girl's voice. She was lying on her bed, little plushies surrounding her while her hair was a mess. She was gorgeous. Sae clears his throat "Hey. Have you eaten?" he asks, and she nods, sighing "Look, can we talk about it right now? I've been dying of anxiety since it happened this afternoon, I've spent hours believing you hated me... wait, you don't hate me, right?" she says, sounding almost sad. He chuckles, mollified by her behavior "Obviously not. If I hated you, I wouldn't have called you back to talk about it" he replies, and she seems to breathe a sigh of relief "Thank goodness. So... what should we say?"

Admitting right away that he had loved her for so long was maybe not the right option, at least not at the moment. Even if he was tempted to do so

"You said something pretty important today" he says, a little hard to explain "It's not something you'd say to a friend, I think. You were serious or?" he continues, waiting for an answer. Through the screen he sees her in a bit of difficulty, biting her nails "Would it be a problem if I said I was serious?" she says, and he can practically feel his heart beating so hard it might pop out of his ribcage "Oh" he says, but curses himself when he sees her getting agitated "Is that a problem?" she asks nervously, but he shakes his head "No. It wouldn't be. Sorry, you took me by surprise" he says, trying to find the right words "What does that mean though...? Is that what I think?"

She didn't know the answer. Sae saw real, pure difficulty in her eyes, as if she had a block she wanted to overcome but it was too big for her

"Look. Can I speak first?" he says, trying to help her. She nods, frowning her eyebrows "Go"

Maybe it really was the right time

"I'll try to be as direct as possible, you also know how much I don't like not being precise. It's quite simple to explain it to you, but I admit that I'm having trouble too... the reality is that I like you, and quite a lot. And it's not something new, I think I've been in love for a year and a half now if not more... the truth is this. I didn't tell you before for the simple fear of distancing you, and distancing the only person who treats me like 'Sae' and not 'Sae Itoshi' might have made things a little heavier for me. I don't know exactly how you feel, but well, if you feel the same way about me I would seriously like to be your boyfriend, Y/n. Not just yours friend. But I can't read your mind, so, how do you feel about me?"

If this was the feeling of lifting a heavy boulder off your shoulders, Sae was experiencing it right now. It had taken so little, yet it had explained everything he had felt all this time. He was more peaceful, but he had yet to hear her words

"It's just that I like you too, Sae. And a lot. A big lot, I don't even know how to quantify it. I've been thinking about it for a while, and I won't deny that once I even dreamed of us kissing... maybe that's when I realized that you weren't just a simple crush. The problem is that distance scares me"

His heart was abandoning him. Maybe he was dying, but at least from happiness

“I can understand that. But I... I want to make things work. I seriously care about you, about us, about what could happen if we were a couple"

"Me too. But... how do we do it?"

“Let the time take effect and my wallet get some money out to make me come to you?”

"That might work. But..."

"I'm just as scared as you are. But I trust how I could make you happy"

That's when Sae knew he finally had his first girlfriend. Maybe he was dead and didn't realize it, but he was happy, fucking happy. He was probably so happy that in his life he had never felt a sensation like that, the one that perhaps his parents also feel when they kiss. He was with the girl he loved and he honestly couldn't ask for anything better than to have her in his arms. He really cared about her so much, he didn't want to make things difficult or burdensome for her: he seriously wanted to make her happy, the happiest

He was inexperienced, for the first time in his life he seriously didn't know what to do, many times he had doubts about how being in a relationship actually worked; but he saw you smiling, so maybe he was doing something right. You spent more time on the call, each on your own business, but you both liked the idea of having the other watching you. It was as if you were in the same room, but chilometres apart: he cooked, you did your skincare, he trained alone and you studied. Distant, but present, and you were fine with that

After less than a month, the girl was the first to say 'I love you', even though they both knew they had been doing it for a long time. But that was just absolute proof that Sae had to do what he had in mind since day one: go to her. The problem is that she was studying and he couldn't go so far from Madrid, due to special training and monthly matches. Furthermore, the campus was very strict with the players, who only rarely let them out on off days. And Sae was certainly no exception, he had the same rules as everyone

But the opportunity presented itself when they had already been together for two months: Y/n was going to be in Madrid for a week, to spend time with her parents. Sae nearly choked on his dinner food when she told him the news: they would meet, he would finally have the chance to hold her in his arms, and if she wanted, he would even kiss her. Sae's family didn't know he was with a girl, while she had mentioned that only her father knew, because he was the parent she trusted slightly more in matters like these, but he honestly didn't care. If her father would have asked him to show up, he would have done so. He didn't want to tell his family or the world because he simply believed it wasn't the time, not because he was ashamed of her: he simply believed it was his thing, his only thought, he was famous, but he also had a private life. He wanted to enjoy his privacy with his pretty girlfriend

"Are you already in Madrid?"

"Yes! the taxi is taking me to where my father works, I will stay there for about an hour and then after I will arrive to you"

"Allright. I can't believe it"

"ME NEITHER!! are we really going to see each other in an hour after spending almost 3 years writing to each other online? :<"

"It's happening. I can't wait"

"I can hug you as soon as I see you, right?"

"Only if I can kiss you afterwards"

"Acceptable. CAN'T WAITTT"

"Me neither. See you soon, love"

"You can count on it! love u ♡"

But Sae had decided that he would show up there well in advance; he wanted to get her some flowers and maybe a cold drink, since it was damn hot. As he left his dormitory and walked across the ReAl campus, the boy was realizing how it was so unexpected and yet so beautiful. He knew he loved her, that he wanted to make her happy, to simply stay by her side until the moment he could no longer due to greater forces, such as death. To him, she had become everything in such a short time that he wondered how he had managed to keep his feelings private for so long: he had deprived himself of the love of the most fantastic girl in the world out of a stupid fear, yet now they were an actual couple, she was his girlfriend and he was her boyfriend, the first for both, and hopefully the last. But to put a ring on her finger maybe he would have to wait a few more years, maybe 10, even though he was still convinced that she was the one

As he walked towards the exit of the campus, he noticed how the teacher who had made him download Futbolandia was walking towards the class he still managed for foreign students: Sae hadn't attended that class for a long time now, he now knew Spanish as like his native language, yet it was thanks to that man that he had met the one who was currently his girlfriend. He had never been someone to say thank you to someone, but maybe he had to this time. He absolutely had to

"Profe, I have to tell you-" says the boy as he approaches, but is petrified when he sees who is a few steps away from the teacher “Y/n, my daughter. How was the flight, dear?"

In front of him, less than 5 meters away, was his girlfriend, there was his Y/n, and, if he understood correctly, she was his teacher's daughter

Sae didn't need to say anything, the girl automatically turned around recognizing the sound of the voice. They looked at each other, this time without a screen dividing them; they could see their reflection in each other's eyes, smell their scent, the way they were dressed entirely. The boy's heart had left his chest, perhaps to go and take the girl's hand, who had also abandoned her body. It was as if, although surprised by the discovery, for him now only she existed, only and exclusively her among all the billions of people in the world. He was in love, he really was

"Sae, what are you doing here-"

Neither of them heard the teacher's words, as they threw themselves into each other's arms: as if automatically the boy's hands ended up on the girl's hips, while her arms tightened around his neck, in such a sweet embrace to be special. The contact, what they had sought for so long, they were finally experiencing: for Sae, the girl's smell and warmth was hid new favorite sensation, as her skin tightened under his hands, holding her as close to him as possible, as if afraid she might go back behind the screen. He couldn't believe it was finally happening, after dreaming so many times that he could do it; finally, everything he wanted was here, here with him and only him

And even before he realized it, Sae was already lifting her chin so he could kiss her, as if he wanted to finish everything off by putting the icing on the cake. Her lips were soft, sweet, fresh; if this was heaven, the world cup, anything he liked, he wanted to be left like this, with his girlfriend hugging him. It was a kiss that he had often imagined, and that he was now experiencing with an emotion that almost made his stomach weak, due to the butterflies. Everything was perfect, she was perfect, his love for her was perfect. Perfection, for him, was this moment

When they broke away, Sae couldn't help but hide the smug smile on his lips, which was small compared to her girlfriend's "Maybe you should have told me about this detail about your father" says the boy, caressing her face "Maybe. But I didn't know it either until a few minutes ago"

"You're here"

"I'm here because I love you"

Sae finally turned to his teacher, the girl still held tightly in his arms. He wouldn't let her go easily

"Did you see, Profe? I learned Spanish"

[what-even-is-thiss]

If you’re having trouble picking a language to learn you might want to evaluate why you want to learn a language in the first place

Do you want to do it to connect with your relatives? Because you’re moving to a country where you don’t speak the language? Then you already know what you have to do. Get out there and start watching YouTube videos and bothering your grandma to teach you, silly. Just do it.

If you just want to speak a second language for its own sake and don’t really care what, just pick a language that’s common in your region and/or will help you in your career. These types of languages will likely have local news stations in the language, local people to talk to, local language exchanges, a presence on streaming services in your country, etc. In the US this is almost always gonna be Spanish. Sometimes it might be something like German or Chinese but it’s usually Spanish. I give this suggestion because then your motivation is always staring you right in the face at the library when there’s a whole section you can’t read and motivation can sometimes be the hardest part of language learning. And if there’s a lot of stuff to watch and a lot of people to talk to that can also keep you from getting bored.

If you wanna be quirky or different but still want something easy just pick a language with a lot of speakers that isn’t spoken much near you that preferably also has a large presence online so you can watch and read content in that language. So if you live in the US likely something like Mandarin, Japanese, Portuguese, Arabic, Hindi, Russian, Korean. These languages also have a lot of monolingual speakers so they have a lot of tv, books, and movies made for them and they’re writing in their own language on social media websites.

If you want to learn a dead language decide which ancient culture you’re personally most abnormal about and pick that one. If you’re doing it for spiritual reasons to read a holy book then again you already know what you’re supposed to be doing, silly. Get reading. Find a quirky teacher on YouTube.

If you want to learn an endangered language and/or are interested in language preservation see what endangered languages live near you and if they’re open to outsiders learning them. Local universities often work with minority language groups to make dictionaries and they may have a program locally to help preserve the language you might be able to participate in. If that’s not possible where you live for whatever reason, I’d suggest finding one that you just really like and whose speakers are happy to teach to outsiders. If you’re looking for ones with a lot of resources available to you then something like Hawaiian or one of the Celtic languages would likely be your best bet, but look around. There’s a lot of people out there doing the work to make endangered languages more accessible.

If you wanna play on hard mode then pick a language that’s spoken in a country where almost everyone speaks English because you’ll have to defeat the locals in 1v1 combat before they’ll let you speak to them in their own language. So basically learn a Scandinavian language.

If you want to learn a conlang (why?) then decide which kind of nerds you want to make friends with. If you want to make friends with regular nerds, learn something like elvish or Klingon. If you want to make friends with people that just like conlangs, learn Esperanto. These are generally the most active conlang communities. If you want to just learn a language in a week and only sort of approximately say what you mean then learn toki pona.

If you’ve fallen hard in love with a language then pick that one. It doesn’t matter if it’s impractical or you don’t have a concrete reason. If you know that your love for that language and its culture is enough to keep you going then it’ll keep you going. You’ll find resources if you’re determined enough. Go. Be free.

[hsunrry]

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁𝑴𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

twitter // requests are open, so feel free to ask! ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

i’m posting as often as i can!

english is not my first language, so sorry if there’s any typos or something! enjoy!

newest on the top!

⊹ ࣪ ˖𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐲𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬⊹ ࣪ ˖

• christmas lights (smut)

• shy (smut)

• coachella (smut)

• date night (smut, angst)

• it's positive (smut)

• you can take it (smut)

• you're not the problem (smut)

• water whale (smut)

• best i've ever had (smut)

• new side (smut)

• are you fucking hard? (smut)

• fairy lights (smut, fluff)

• don't leave me (smut, angst)

• pretty boy (smut)

• moustache | moustache 2 (smut)

• perfumes (smut)

• argument (smut, angst)

• college teacher (smut)

• home alone (smut)

• safe word (smut)

• sweet release (smut)

• ring (fluff)

• assistant (smut)

• special room (smut)

• witch (smut)

• about you (smut)

• wedding (smut, angst)

• ghostface (smut)

• online meeting (smut)

• new year's eve (smut)

• dressing room (smut)

• nurse (smut)

• lights up (smut)

• princess (smut)

• love triangle (smut)

• location (smut)

• winter house (smut, angst)

• teacher (smut)

• lesson (smut)

• princess (smut)

• first time? (smut)

• study session (smut)

• hockey (smut)

• dressing room (smut)

• car ride (smut)

• new pillow (smut)

• roommates (smut)

• app (smut)

• summer house | summer house 2 (smut)

⊹ ࣪ ˖𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐰 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬⊹ ࣪ ˖

• innocent (smut)

• are you fucking hard? (smut)

• better (smut)

• argument (smut)

[fallynleaf]

Help out a Palestinian in the West Bank by taking Arabic classes!

For the past few months, I've been taking online Palestinian Arabic classes from a teacher in the West Bank who lost his last teaching job due to the war.

With Israel escalating its violence in the West Bank, things have gotten increasingly tough for him, so I offered to help promote his classes with the tiny bit of social media reach that I have.

He sent me this to share:

"Marhaba all! My name is Ahmed. I live in Nablus, Palestine, and I’m an Arabic teacher with almost a decade of experience. If you’re looking to learn Levantine Arabic, particularly the Palestinian dialect, I’d be happy to teach you! Here are some details about my classes:

I can teach beginners to advanced speakers. Everyone is welcome

Rate: $25/hr. for private classes, $20/person for group classes

I speak fluent English & French, so I can help explain everything in your native language

Flexibility over Zoom, Google Meet, etc. for classes and open availability for any time of day that works with you

I teach Palestinian/Levantine Arabic dialect only

Please send me an email at teacherahmedw12@gmail.com to get in touch!"

Ahmed is a really kind and patient teacher, and he's incredibly flexible and extremely generous, so if you've ever considered learning an Arabic dialect before, I recommend trying out his classes! He also teaches cultural stuff in addition to the language, so you'll learn a whole lot and gain some new perspective.

Even if you never achieve fluency, having learned just a bit of another language can be very rewarding!

[ale-wosofan]

broken

Alexia x R

R is struggling but she’s not sure why or how to fix it. Will she finally be honest with her girlfriend about how she’s feeling?

warnings: little bit of angst (+fluff), implied adhd

a/n: English is not my first language (I’m aware how much of a cliché that is) so there might be some mistakes; feel free to correct them :) Here I talk about my personal experience with adhd, please don’t use this to self-diagnose, as it is not the same for everyone. Enjoy!

-----

The first time you feel that there’s something wrong with you, you’re at home with your girlfriend.

“Hey, princesa. Have you seen that there’s a new season of that TV show you like?” Alexia asks you once you’ve sat down on the sofa.

“Oh, I didn’t know,” you shrug settling on top of your girlfriend and kissing her cheek.

Alexia looks a little surprised at your answer but starts running her hands up and down your back nonetheless.

“How come? I thought you said it was, and I’m quoting you, the best show you’ve ever seen.”

But you don’t answer. You don’t really know what happened, you’re just not that passionate about that particular show anymore. You had been interested for a few months; had watched all the interviews, bloopers, deleted scenes, but now you just didn’t like it as much anymore. You’ve had a few intense months thinking and talking about the show almost every minute of every day so you probably just need time away from it now that all that initial intensity has worn off.

You don’t realise how much time you’ve been quiet until Alexia speaks again.

“Amor?” you hum in acknowledgement urging her to continue “are you okay?”

“Yeah, just got a little distracted,” you answer shuffling around a little bit trying to get comfortable.

After a couple of minutes moving around you can’t seem to settle. You sigh and sit up feeling Alexia’s eyes on you the entire time.

“So, have you finished the work you had to do?” your girlfriend asks while putting her feet on your lap.

“No, not yet. But I really needed a break.”

Alexia looks up at you surprised.

“¿De verdad? I thought it was supposed to be something easy. You’ve been working for almost two hours.”

You frown. There’s no way it’s been two hours, right? That can’t be possible. But when you look at your watch you realise that it really has been two hours. You have spent all that time in your office and haven’t been able to finish a relatively simple task.

“Today is not my day, I guess,” you say rubbing your hands on your face with frustration “I’m a little distracted today, I can’t seem to concentrate on anything.”

But it wasn’t just today, and you knew that. It was something that had been going on for a while. You couldn’t exactly pinpoint when it had started to happen, but it got bad after the quarantine. You were on your second year of college when the pandemic occurred. You spent a few months studying online, a few months that felt like a bliss to you despite everything that was happening in the world. But you had to come back to class eventually. And it was fine; until it wasn’t. Every time you tried to pay attention to class you got distracted and couldn’t focus on what the teachers were saying for more than a few minutes at a time. When you had projects to do you couldn’t bring yourself to work on them and waited until the last day to get them done. Studying suddenly became a torture since you couldn’t concentrate for long. What once used to take you ten minutes, now it took an hour.

And the thing is you still don’t understand why. You don’t know what’s wrong with you now that wasn’t before. It hadn’t really bothered you before, you’d been able to deal with it for some time. But now it feels like it just keeps getting worse with each passing day. Deep down you know you need help, and you know you should talk to someone about this, but you don’t feel ready to. Not yet.

“How about you keep working on it tomorrow? And we can relax for the rest of the say. We can have a nice bath and then order some food. How does that sound?”

You smile at your girlfriend. How did you ever get so lucky?

“Yeah, I’d really like that.”

-----

The second time you feel that there’s something wrong with you, Alexia had just come home from training.

When you hear the door front open and your girlfriend call out for you, you’re lying on your bed scrolling through social media.

You get up and go say hello to her.

“Hi, baby,” you greet her opening your arms for a hug.

“Hola, mi amor.”

She takes a step back from your embrace, places her hands on your cheeks and kisses you passionately. And just as quickly as it had started she was pulling away.

“Hi,” you repeat feeling yourself blush.

“Hi,” your girlfriend answers kissing your forehead “I’m going to take a shower.”

You blink slowly taking a few seconds to get yourself together, being quickly interrupted by Alexia calling your name from the bedroom.

You make your way there but stop in your tracks in the door frame when you realise why your girlfriend had called for you.

“Princesa, what happened here?”

You give her a smile that you’re pretty sure turns out looking more like a grimace.

“Okay so, I wanted to rearrange some of the books-”

“Again?”

“-but then I wasn’t sure if I wanted to organize them by colour or by genre, so I decided to watch a video to decide. But then I got distracted by another video and kind of forgot what I was doing in the first place, so I just laid down and waited for you to come home,” you answer honestly giving your girlfriend a sheepish smile.

Alexia looks at you in deep thought.

“Okay, how about this? I take a shower and get into some comfortable clothes and once I’m done I’ll help you with all this.”

You sometimes wonder how someone so perfect like the woman in front of you exists.

“Or, we could shower together and then work on the bookshelf together as well,” you suggest smirking.

Your girlfriends lets out a chuckle and kisses your cheek.

“Nice try, but if we do that we might never be able to come out of the shower.”

Once your girlfriend is out of sight you take a look at all the books splattered around the room. The state of the place is certainly overwhelming and it just stresses you out more. Where are you supposed to start?

You sigh and sit down on the bed.

You should’ve finished this before Alexia got here. You’d had more than enough time to do it, so why couldn’t you just focus on your task like everyone else instead of getting distracted with everything? Now your girlfriend had to help you out instead of resting after the long day she probably had.

You rub your hands on your face in frustration. It really isn’t supposed to be that hard right?

“Yeah, I’m just a little lazy sometimes,” you whisper to no one in particular before getting up.

-----

The third time you feel that there’s something wrong with you, you’ve just gotten to your house from work.

When you arrive home you’re exhausted.

Stepping into the house the first thing you notice is the Spanish music playing in the background and the smell of your favourite meal being cooked.

Walking into the kitchen you are welcomed by the sight of your girlfriend wearing one of your old shirts dancing and cooking.

“Hi, love.”

She turns around at the sound of your voice and looks at you with a lovesick smile.

“Hola, princesa,” she quickly answers opening her arms for you to hug her, which you happily do “How was your day?”

You step out of her embrace and give her a kiss before making a face.

“It could’ve been better,” you tell her honestly.

You sit in one of the stools while your girlfriend resumes her cooking duties keeping an eye on you the whole time.

“¿Por qué? Did anything happen?”

“No, nothing in particular,” you pause, deciding whether or not to continue “Although there’s a new project I’ve been working on, which is obviously really exciting, but I’ve spent all morning busy with it; emailing people, setting the different dates for it, planning meetings and all that.”

Alexia completely turns around to look at you and nods urging you to keep talking.

“I just-” you sigh frustrated “I suddenly got hungry, right? And I looked at the time and realised that it was already pretty late and I hadn’t eaten lunch yet, so I went to grab a sandwich to the shop nearby. Then, on the way back I went past that bookstore I really like so I decided to have a look around for a bit to relax, and I ended up buying that book I told you came out yesterday.”

Your girlfriend’s frown deepens.

“Isn’t that a sequel to a book you haven’t read yet?”

“Yes,” you whisper a little embarrassed “I know it was a stupid decision, but I really wanted to buy it in that moment. Then I just felt bad because I had spent money on something I don’t even know if I’ll like.”

You feel yourself blush at the admission and hide your face in your hands.

“Hey,” you hear your girlfriend quietly say in your ear while she wraps her arms around your waist “There’s really no need to be embarrassed, ¿vale? You bought something you wanted after having a fairly stressful day at work. I promise you it’s not the end of the world, mi amor.”

With each word she says you begin to slowly relax in her arms.

You turn around and take her face in your hands.

“How do you always know what to say?”

“Because I love you and I know you better than I know myself,” she answers placing a kiss in your nose “Now you’re going to take a shower, we’re going to have dinner and then we’re gonna cuddle while watching a film. Tomorrow will be a better day, princesa, I promise.”

You nod although you don’t fully believe it.

-----

When you finally lay down to watch TV with your girlfriend you can’t seem to settle. Your mind is working really fast and you’re starting to get a little bit restless.

You haven’t really thought about it until now, but what if there is something actually wrong with you? What if it isn’t just a bad day? What if all the sleepless nights, the impulsivity, the difficulty staying focused for too long and the racing thoughts are all somehow connected? There’s no way, you or someone around you would’ve realised sooner. Right?

You feel Alexia’s eyes on you when you stop the show you’re watching.

You try not to think about it too much and begin to speak.

“Do you think there’s something wrong with me?”

“What do you mean?” she asks confused.

“Never mind. Just ignore what I’ve said,” you answer shaking your head and laying down on top of your girlfriend again.

“Hey, no. None of that,” Alexia sits up with you in her lap and takes your face on her hands “What’s going on? Talk to me, please,” she begs worried.

Looking at her you realise that this is your partner, the person you’re building your future with. You are aware this is a tough thing to talk to her about but there’s no one you trust more in this world. She is your home.

“I've been feeling really overwhelmed lately, like my mind is always racing and I can't seem to focus on anything for long. I mean, it actually started a while ago, but it’s just been getting worse. I’m not sure how to explain it,” you confess.

Your girlfriend takes both of your hands and smiles encouragingly at you.

“Try. I’m listening and whatever it is I’m here for you, okay? Always, te lo prometo.”

“Okay, so, have you notice how I always seem to jump from one thing to another without actually finishing anything? I've tried making to-do lists and setting reminders, but nothing seems to work. And that’s just one of the things, you know? But it’s also not being able to sit still for more than five minutes and acting always so impulsive. And it's starting to affect everything I do. I just-” you take a deep breath “I’m always so frustrated. I just want to be able to be like everyone else, but it's like my brain is wired differently.”

“How long has this been going on?” Alexia asks concerned.

“I don’t know. A few months, I think.”

Your girlfriend lets go of your hands and holds your face instead making you look into her eyes.

“Mi amor, listen to me. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with you. Yes, your brain may work a little bit different but that doesn’t mean you’re stupid or broken, ¿vale? It's okay to feel overwhelmed, and it's good that you're talking about it. But I really need you to understand that. What do you want to do now?”

“I’m not sure, I wasn’t even planning on telling you to be honest,” you admit feeling yourself blushing.

“Maybe it could be helpful to talk to a professional about all of this?” Alexia suggest “Whatever you feel comfortable doing.”

You shrug and hide your face on her neck.

“Yeah, I guess. You promise me you’re not going anywhere?”

Your girlfriend kisses your forehead before answering.

“I'm here for you no matter what, we will figure this out. Thank you for sharing this with me, princesa.”

“Thank you for listening to me,” you whisper just for the two of you “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

-----

Maybe I'll write a sequel to this but I'm not really sure. Let me know what you think! <3

[etz-ashashiyot]

Chapter 4: Executed Jews

By Dara Horn, excerpted from People Love Dead Jews

ALA ZUSKIN PERELMAN AND I HAD BEEN IN TOUCH ONLINE before I finally met her in person, and I still cannot quite believe she exists. Years ago, I wrote a novel about Marc Chagall and the Yiddish-language artists whom he once knew in Russia, all of whom were eventually murdered by the Soviet regime. While researching the novel, I found myself sucked into the bizarre story of these people's exploitation and destruction: how the Soviet Union first welcomed these artists as exemplars of universal human ideals, then used them for its own purposes, and finally executed them. I named my main character after the executed Yiddish actor Benjamin Zuskin, a comic performer known for playing fools. After the book came out, I heard from Ala in an email written in halting English: "I am Benjamin Zuskin's daughter." That winter I was speaking at a literary conference in Israel, where Ala lived, and she and I arranged to meet. It was like meeting a character from a book.

My hosts had generously put me up with other writers in a beautiful stone house in Jerusalem. We were there during Hanukkah, the celebration of Jewish independence. On the first night of the holiday, I walked to Jerusalem's Old City and watched as people lit enormous Hanukkah torches at the Western Wall. I thought of my home in New Jersey, where in school growing up I sang fake English Hanukkah songs created by American music education companies at school Christmas concerts, with lyrics describing Hanukkah as being about "joy and peace and love." Joy and peace and love describe Hanukkah, a commemoration of an underdog military victory over a powerful empire, about as well as they describe the Fourth of July. I remembered challenging a chorus teacher about one such song, and being told that I was a poor sport for disliking joy and peace and love. (Imagine a "Christmas song" with lyrics celebrating Christmas, the holiday of freedom. Doesn't everyone like freedom? What pedant would reject such a song?) I sang those words in front of hundreds of people to satisfy my neighbors that my tradition was universal — meaning, just like theirs. The night before meeting Ala, I walked back to the house through the dense stone streets of the Old City's Jewish Quarter, where every home had a glass case by its door, displaying the holiday's oil lamps. It was strange to see those hundreds of glowing lights. They were like a shining announcement that this night of celebration was shared by all these strangers around me, that it was universal. The experience was so unfamiliar that I didn't know what to make of it.

The next morning, Ala knocked on the door of the stone house and sat down in its living room, with its view of the Old City. She was a small dark-haired woman whose perfect posture showed a firmness that belied her age. She looked at me and said in Hebrew, "I feel as if you knew my father, like you understood what he went through. How did you know?"

The answer to that question goes back several thousand years.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The teenage boys who participated in competitive athletics in the gymnasium in Jerusalem 2,200 years ago had their circumcisions reversed, because otherwise they wouldn't have been allowed to play. In the Hellenistic empire that had conquered Judea, sports were sacred, the entry point to being a person who mattered, the ultimate height of cool — and sports, of course, were always played in the nude. As one can imagine, ancient genital surgery of this nature was excruciating and potentially fatal. But the boys did not want to miss out.

I learned this fun fact in seventh grade, from a Hebrew school teacher who was instructing me and my pubescent classmates about the Hanukkah story — about how Hellenistic tyranny gained a foothold in ancient Judea with the help of Jews who wanted to fit in. This teacher seemed overly jazzed to talk about penises with a bunch of adolescents, and I suspected he'd made the whole thing up. At home, I decided to fact-check. I pulled a dusty old book off my parents' shelf, Volume One of Heinrich Graetz's opus History of the Jews.

In nineteenth-century academic prose, Graetz explained how the leaders of Judea demonstrated their loyalty to the occupying Hellenistic empire by building a gymnasium and recruiting teenage athletes — only to discover that "in uncovering their bodies they could immediately be recognized as Judeans. But were they to take part in the Olympian games, and expose themselves to the mockery of Greek scoffers? Even this difficulty they evaded by undergoing a painful operation, so as to disguise the fact that they were Judeans." Their Zeus-worshipping overlords were not fooled. Within a few years, the regime outlawed not only circumcision but all of Jewish religious practice, and put to death anyone who didn't comply.

Sometime after that, the Maccabees showed up. That's the part of the story we usually hear.

Those ancient Jewish teenagers were on my mind that Hanukkah when Ala came to tell me about her father's terrifying life, because I sensed that something profound united them — something that doesn't match what we're usually taught about what bigotry looks or feels like. It doesn't involve "intolerance" or "persecution," at least not at first. Instead, it looks like the Jews themselves are choosing to reject their own traditions. It is a form of weaponized shame.

Two distinct patterns of antisemitism can be identified by the Jewish holidays that celebrate triumphs over them: Purim and Hanukkah. In the Purim version of antisemitism, exemplified by the Persian genocidal decrees in the biblical Book of Esther, the goal is openly stated and unambiguous: Kill all the Jews. In the Hanukkah version of antisemitism, whose appearances range from the Spanish Inquisition to the Soviet regime, the goal is still to eliminate Jewish civilization. But in the Hanukkah version, this goal could theoretically be accomplished simply by destroying Jewish civilization, while leaving the warm, de-Jewed bodies of its former practitioners intact.

For this reason, the Hanukkah version of antisemitism often employs Jews as its agents. It requires not dead Jews but cool Jews: those willing to give up whatever specific aspect of Jewish civilization is currently uncool. Of course, Judaism has always been uncool, going back to its origins as the planet's only monotheism, featuring a bossy and unsexy invisible God. Uncoolness is pretty much Judaism's brand, which is why cool people find it so threatening — and why Jews who are willing to become cool are absolutely necessary to Hanukkah antisemitism's success. These "converted" Jews are used to demonstrate the good intentions of the regime — which of course isn't antisemitic but merely requires that its Jews publicly flush thousands of years of Jewish civilization down the toilet in exchange for the worthy prize of not being treated like dirt, or not being murdered. For a few years. Maybe.

I wish I could tell the story of Ala's father concisely, compellingly, the way everyone prefers to hear about dead Jews. I regret to say that Benjamin Zuskin wasn't minding his own business and then randomly stuffed into a gas chamber, that his thirteen-year-old daughter did not sit in a closet writing an uplifting diary about the inherent goodness of humanity, that he did not leave behind sad-but-beautiful aphorisms pondering the absence of God while conveniently letting his fellow humans off the hook. He didn't even get crucified for his beliefs. Instead, he and his fellow Soviet Jewish artists — extraordinarily intelligent, creative, talented, and empathetic adults — were played for fools, falling into a slow-motion psychological horror story brimming with suspense and twisted self-blame. They were lured into a long game of appeasing and accommodating, giving up one inch after another of who they were in order to win that grand prize of being allowed to live.

Spoiler alert: they lost.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was in graduate school studying Yiddish literature, itself a rich vein of discussion about such impossible choices, when I became interested in Soviet Jewish artists like Ala's father. As I dug through library collections of early-twentieth-century Yiddish works, I came across a startling number of poetry books illustrated by Marc Chagall. I wondered if Chagall had known these Yiddish writers whose works he illustrated, and it turned out that he had. One of Chagall's first jobs as a young man was as an art teacher at a Jewish orphanage near Moscow, built for children orphaned by Russia's 1919-1920 civil war pogroms. This orphanage had a rather renowned faculty, populated by famous Yiddish writers who trained these traumatized children in the healing art of creativity.

It all sounded very lovely, until I noticed something else. That Chagall's art did not rely on a Jewish language — that it had, to use that insidious phrase, "universal appeal" — allowed him a chance to succeed as an artist in the West. The rest of the faculty, like Chagall, had also spent years in western Europe before the Russian revolution, but they chose to return to Russia because of the Soviet Union's policy of endorsing Yiddish as a "national Soviet language." In the 1920s and 30s, the USSR offered unprecedented material support to Yiddish culture, paying for Yiddish-language schools, theaters, publishing houses, and more, to the extent that there were Yiddish literary critics who were salaried by the Soviet government. This support led the major Yiddish novelist Dovid Bergelson to publish his landmark 1926 essay "Three Centers," about New York, Warsaw, and Moscow as centers of Yiddish-speaking culture, asking which city offered Yiddish writers the brightest prospects. His unequivocal answer was Moscow, a choice that brought him back to Russia the following year, where many other Jewish artists joined him.

But Soviet support for Jewish culture was part of a larger plan to brainwash and coerce national minorities into submitting to the Soviet regime — and for Jews, it came at a very specific price. From the beginning, the regime eliminated anything that celebrated Jewish "nationality" that didn't suit its needs. Jews were awesome, provided they weren't practicing Jewish religion, studying traditional Jewish texts, using Hebrew, or supporting Zionism. The Soviet Union thus pioneered a versatile gaslighting slogan, which it later spread through its client states in the developing world and which remains popular today: it was not antisemitic, merely anti-Zionist. (In the process of not being antisemitic and merely being anti-Zionist, the regime managed to persecute, imprison, torture, and murder thousands of Jews.) What's left of Jewish culture once you surgically remove religious practice, traditional texts, Hebrew, and Zionism? In the Soviet Empire, one answer was Yiddish, but Yiddish was also suspect for its supposedly backwards elements. Nearly 15 percent of its words came directly from biblical and rabbinic Hebrew, so Soviet Yiddish schools and publishers, under the guise of "simplifying" spelling, implemented a new and quite literally antisemitic spelling system that eliminated those words' Near Eastern roots. Another answer was "folklore" — music, visual art, theater, and other creative work reflecting Jewish life — but of course most of that cultural material was also deeply rooted in biblical and rabbinic sources, or reflected common religious practices like Jewish holidays and customs, so that was treacherous too.

No, what the regime required were Yiddish stories that showed how horrible traditional Jewish practice was, stories in which happy, enlightened Yiddish-speaking heroes rejected both religion and Zionism (which, aside from its modern political form, is also a fundamental feature of ancient Jewish texts and prayers traditionally recited at least three times daily). This de-Jewing process is clear from the repertoire of the government-sponsored Moscow State Yiddish Theater, which could only present or adapt Yiddish plays that denounced traditional Judaism as backward, bourgeois, corrupt, or even more explicitly — as in the many productions involving ghosts or graveyard scenes — as dead. As its actors would be, soon enough.

The Soviet Union's destruction of Jewish culture commenced, in a calculated move, with Jews positioned as the destroyers. It began with the Yevsektsiya, committees of Jewish Bolsheviks whose paid government jobs from 1918 through 1930 were to persecute, imprison, and occasionally murder Jews who participated in religious or Zionist institutions — categories that included everything from synagogues to sports clubs, all of which were shut down and their leaders either exiled or "purged." This went on, of course, until the regime purged the Yevsektsiya members themselves.

The pattern repeated in the 1940s. As sordid as the Yeveksiya chapter was, I found myself more intrigued by the undoing of the Jewish Antifascist Committee, a board of prominent Soviet Jewish artists and intellectuals established by Joseph Stalin in 1942 to drum up financial support from Jews overseas for the Soviet war effort. Two of the more prominent names on the JAC's roster of talent were Solomon Mikhoels, the director of the Moscow State Yiddish Theater, and Ala's father Benjamin Zuskin, the theater's leading actor. After promoting these people during the war, Stalin decided these loyal Soviet Jews were no longer useful, and charged them all with treason. He had decided that this committee he himself created was in fact a secret Zionist cabal, designed to bring down the Soviet state. Mikhoels was murdered first, in a 1948 hit staged to look like a traffic accident. Nearly all the others — Zuskin and twelve more Jewish luminaries, including the novelist Dovid Bergelson, who had proclaimed Moscow as the center of the Yiddish future — were executed by firing squad on August 1952.

Just as the regime accused these Jewish artists and intellectuals of being too "nationalist" (read: Jewish), today's long hindsight makes it strangely tempting to read this history and accuse them of not being "nationalist" enough — that is, of being so foolishly committed to the Soviet regime that they were unable to see the writing on the wall. Many works on this subject have said as much. In Stalin's Secret Pogrom, the indispensable English translation of transcripts from the JAC "trial," Russia scholar Joshua Rubenstein concludes his lengthy introduction with the following:

As for the defendants at the trial, it is not clear what they believed about the system they each served. Their lives darkly embodied the tragedy of Soviet Jewry. A combination of revolutionary commitment and naive idealism had tied them to a system they could not renounce. Whatever doubts or misgivings they had, they kept to themselves, and served the Kremlin with the required enthusiasm. They were not dissidents. They were Jewish martyrs. They were also Soviet patriots. Stalin repaid their loyalty by destroying them.

This is completely true, and also completely unfair. The tragedy — even the term seems unjust, with its implied blaming of the victim — was not that these Soviet Jews sold their souls to the devil, though many clearly did. The tragedy was that integrity was never an option in the first place.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ala was almost thirteen years old when her father was arrested and until that moment she was immersed in the Soviet Yiddish artistic scene. Her mother was also an actor in the Moscow State Yiddish Theater; her family lived in the same building as the murdered theater director Solomon Mikhoels, and moved in the same circles as other Jewish actors and writers. After seeing her parents perform countless times, Ala had a front-row seat to the destruction of their world. She attended Mikhoel's state funeral, heard about the arrest of the brilliant Yiddish author Der Nister from an actor friend who witnessed it from her apartment across the hall, and was present when secret police ransacked her home in conjunction with her father's arrest. In her biography, The Travels of Benjamin Zuskin, she provides for her readers what she gave me that morning in Jerusalem: an emotional recounting, with the benefit of hindsight, of what it was really like to live through the Soviet Jewish nightmare.

It's as close as we can get, anyway. Her father Benjamin Zuskin's own thoughts on the topic are available only from state interrogations extracted under unknown tortures. (One typical interrogation document from his three and a half years in the notorious Lubyanka Prison announces that the day's interrogation lasted four hours, but the transcript is only half a page long — leaving to the imagination how the interrogator and interrogatee may have spent their time together. Suffice it to say that another JAC detainee didn't make it to trial alive.) His years in prison began when he was arrested in December of 1948 in a Moscow hospital room, where he was being treated for chronic insomnia brought on by the murder of his boss and career-long acting partner, Mikhoels; the secret police strapped him to a gurney and carted him to prison in his hospital gown while he was still sedated.

But in order to truly appreciate the loss here, one needs to know what was lost — to return to the world of the great Yiddish writer Sholem Aleichem, the author of Benjamin Zuskin's first role on the Yiddish stage, in a play fittingly titled It's a Lie!

Benjamin Zuskin's path to the Yiddish theater and later to the Soviet firing squad began in a shtetl comparable to those immortalized in Sholem Aleichem's work. Zuskin, a child from a traditional family who was exposed to theater only through traveling Yiddish troupes and clowning relatives, experienced that world's destruction: his native Lithuanian shtetl, Ponievezh, was among the many Jewish towns forcibly evacuated during the First World War, catapulting him and hundreds of thousands of other Jewish refugees into modernity. He landed in Penza, a city with professional Russian theater and Yiddish amateur troupes. In 1920, the Moscow State Yiddish Theater opened, and by 1921, Zuskin was starring alongside Mikhoels, the theater's leading light.

In the one acting class I have ever attended, I learned only one thing: acting isn't about pretending to be someone you aren't, but rather about emotional communication. Zuskin, who not only starred in most productions but also taught in the theater's acting school, embodied the concept. His very first audition was a one-man sketch he created, consisting of nothing more than a bumbling old tailor threading a needle — without words, costumes, or props. It became so popular that he performed it to entranced crowds for years. This physical artistry animated his every role. As one critic wrote, "Even the slightest breeze and he is already air-bound."

Zuskin specialized in playing figures like the Fool in King Lear — as his daughter puts it in her book, characters who "are supposed to make you laugh, but they have an additional dimension, and they arouse poignant reflections about the cruelty of the world." Discussing his favorite roles, Zuskin once explained that "my heart is captivated particularly by the image of the person who is derided and humiliated, but who loves life, even though he encounters obstacles placed before him through no fault of his own."

The first half of Ala's book seems to recount only triumphs. The theater's repertoire in its early years was largely adopted from classic Yiddish writers like Sholem Aleichem, I. L. Peretz, and Mendele Moykher Seforim. The book's title is drawn from Zuskin's most famous role: Senderl, the Sancho Panza figure in Mendele's Don Quixote-inspired work, Travels of Benjamin the Third, about a pair of shtetl idiots who set out for the Land of Israel and wind up walking around the block. These productions were artistically inventive, brilliantly acted, and played to packed houses both at home and on tour. Travels of Benjamin the Third, in a 1928 review typical of the play's reception, was lauded by the New York Times as "one of the most originally conceived and beautifully executed evenings in the modern theater."

One of the theater's landmark productions, I. L. Peretz's surrealist masterpiece At Night in the Old Marketplace, was first performed in 1925. The play, set in a graveyard, is a kind of carnival for the graveyard's gathered ghosts. Those who come back from the dead are misfits like drunks and prostitutes, and also specific figures from shtetl life - yeshiva idlers, synagogue beadles, and the like. Leading them all is a badkhn, or wedding jester — divided in this production into two mirror-characters played by Mikhoels and Zuskin — whose repeated chorus among the living corpses is "The dead will rise!" "Within this play there was something hidden, something with an ungraspable depth," Ala writes, and then relates how after a performance in Vienna, one theatergoer came backstage to tell the director that "the play had shaken him as something that went beyond all imagination." The theatergoer was Sigmund Freud.

As Ala traces the theater's trajectory toward doom, it becomes obvious why this performance so affected Freud. The production was a zombie story about the horrifying possibility of something supposedly dead (here, Jewish civilization) coming back to life. The play was written a generation earlier as a Romantic work, but in the Moscow production, it became a means of denigrating traditional Jewish life without mourning it. That fantasy of a culture's death as something compelling and even desirable is not merely reminiscent of Freud's death drive, but also reveals the self-destructive bargain implicit in the entire Soviet-sponsored Jewish enterprise. In her book, Ala beautifully captures this tension as she explains the badkhn's role: "He sends a double message: he denies the very existence of the vanishing shadow world, and simultaneously he mocks it, as if it really does exist."

This double message was at the heart of Benjamin Zuskin's work as a comic Soviet Yiddish actor, a position that required him to mock the traditional Jewish life he came from while also pretending that his art could exist without it. "The chance to make fun of the shtetl which has become a thing of the past charmed me," he claimed early on, but later, according to his daughter, he began to privately express misgivings. The theater's decision to stage King Lear as a way of elevating itself disturbed him, suggesting as it did that the Yiddish repertoire was inferior. His own integrity came from his deep devotion to yiddishkayt, a sense of essential and enduring Jewishness, no matter how stripped-down that identity had become. "With the sharp sense of belonging to everything Jewish, he was tormented by the theater forsaking its expression of this belonging," his daughter writes. Even so, "no, he could not allow himself to oppose the Soviet regime even in his thoughts, the regime that gave him his own theater, but 'the heart and the wit do not meet.'"

In Ala's memory, her father differed from his director, partner, and occasional rival, Mikhoels, in his complete disinterest in politics. Mikhoels was a public figure as well as performer, and his leadership of the Jewish Antifascist Committee, while no more voluntary than any public act in a totalitarian state, was a role he played with gusto, traveling to America in 1943 and speaking to thousands of American Jews to raise money for the Red Army in their battle against the Nazis. Zuskin, on the other hand, was on the JAC roster, but seems to have continued playing the fool. According to both his daughter and his trial testimony, his role in the JAC was almost identical to his role on a Moscow municipal council, limited to playing chess in the back of the room during meetings.

In Jerusalem, Ala told me that her father was "a pure soul." "He had no interest in politics, only in his art," she said, describing his acting style as both classic and contemporary, praised by critics for its timeless qualities that are still evident today in his film work. But his talent was the most nuanced and sophisticated thing about him. Offstage, he was, as she put it in Hebrew, a "tam" — a biblical term sometimes translated as fool or simpleton, but which really means an innocent. (It is the first adjective used to describe the title character in the Book of Job.) It is true that in trial transcripts, Zuskin comes out looking better than many of his co-defendants by playing dumb instead of pointing fingers. But was this ignorance, or a wise acceptance of the futility of trying to save his skin? As King Lear's Fool put it, "They'll have me whipp'd for speaking true; thou'lt have me whipp'd for holding my peace." Reflecting on her father's role as a fool named Pinia in a popular film, Ala writes in her book, "When I imagine the moment when my father heard his death sentence, I see Pinia in close-up . . . his shoulders slumped, despair in his appearance. I hear the tone that cannot be imitated in his last line in the film — and perhaps also the last line in his life? — 'I don't understand anything.'"

Yet it is clear that Zuskin deeply understood how impossible his situation was. In one of the book's more disturbing moments, Ala describes him rehearsing for one of his landmark roles, that of the comic actor Hotsmakh in Sholem Aleichem's Wandering Stars, a work whose subject is the Yiddish theater. He had played the role before, but this production was going up in the wake of Mikhoel's murder. Zuskin was already among the hunted, and he knew it. As Ala writes:

One morning — already after the murder of Mikhoels — I saw my father pacing the room and memorizing the words of Hotsmakh's role. Suddenly, in a gesture revealing a hopeless anguish, Father actually threw himself at me, hugged me, pressed me to his heart, and together with me, continued to pace the room and to memorize the words of the role. That evening I saw the performance . . . "The doctors say that I need rest, air, and the sea . . . For what . . . without the theater?" [Hotsmakh asks], he winds the scarf around his neck — as though it were a noose. For my father, I think those words of Hotsmakh were like the motif of the role and — I think — of his own life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Describing the charges levied against Zuskin and his peers is a degrading exercise, for doing so makes it seem as though these charges are worth considering. They are not. It is at this point that Hanukkah antisemitism transformed, as it inevitably does, into Purim antisemitism. Here Ala offers what hundreds of pages of state archives can't, describing the impending horror of the noose around one's neck.

Her father stopped sleeping, began receiving anonymous threats, and saw that he was being watched. No conversation was safe. When a visitor from Poland waited near his apartment building to give him news of his older daughter Tamara (who was then living in Warsaw), Zuskin instructed the man to walk behind him while speaking to him and then to switch directions, so as to avoid notice. When the man asked Zuskin what he wanted to tell his daughter, Zuskin "approached the guest so closely that there was no space between them, and whispered in Yiddish, 'Tell her that the ground is burning beneath my feet.'" It is true that no one can know what Zuskin or any of the other defendants really believed about the Soviet system they served. It is also true — and far more devastating — that their beliefs were utterly irrelevant.

Ala and her mother were exiled to Kazakhstan after her father's arrest, and learned of his execution only when they were allowed to return to Moscow in 1955. By then, he had already been dead for three years.

In Jerusalem that morning, Ala told me, in a sudden private moment of anger and candor, that the Soviet Union's treatment of the Jews was worse than Nazi Germany's. I tried to argue, but she shut me up. Obviously the Nazi atrocities against Jews were incomparable, a fact Ala later acknowledged in a calmer mood. But over four generations, the Soviet regime forced Jews to participate in and internalize their own humiliation - and in that way, Ala suggested, they destroyed far more souls. And they never, ever, paid for it.

"They never had a Nuremberg," Ala told me that day, with a quiet fury. "They never acknowledged the evil of what they did. The Nazis were open about what they were doing, but the Soviets pretended. They lured the Jews in, they baited them with support and recognition, they used them, they tricked them, and then they killed them. It was a trap. And no one knows about it, even now. People know about the Holocaust, but not this. Even here in Israel, people don't know. How did you know?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That evening I went out to the Old City again, to watch the torches being lit at the Western Wall for the second night of Hanukkah. I walked once more through the Jewish Quarter, where the oil lamps, now each bearing one additional flame, were displayed outside every home, following the tradition to publicize the Hanukkah miracle — not merely the legendary long-lasting oil, but the miracle of military and spiritual victory over a coercive empire, the freedom to be uncool, the freedom not to pretend. Somewhere nearby, deep underground, lay the ruins of the gymnasium where de-circumcised Jewish boys once performed naked before approving crowds, stripped of their integrity and left with their private pain. I thought of Benjamin Zuskin performing as the dead wedding jester, proclaiming, "The dead will rise!" and then performing again in a "superior" play, as King Lear's Fool. I thought of the ground burning beneath his feet. I thought of his daughter, Ala, now an old woman, walking through Jerusalem.

I am not a sentimental person. As I returned to the stone house that night, along the streets lit by oil lamps, I was surprised to find myself crying.

[sansaorgana]

— NEW MEMORIES

PAIRING — Erik Lehnsherr x fem!Mutant!Reader

SUMMARY — You're excited to celebrate holidays for the first time in a long time and you prepare the school for Christmas and Hanukkah but your husband's attitude differs, which leads to an argument. You accidentally reveal too soon that you're expecting, which ruins a surprise.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — As usual, Reader’s mutation is NOT specified. I checked online Hanukkah's date for 1973 and I hope it showed me right that it started December 19th, which means it would overlap with Christmas. I also tried not to specify if Reader would celebrate only Hanukkah with Erik or Christmas, too, so I hope it's not very exclusive, because I imagine that even if she is not a Christian or Jewish, she would still want to celebrate Hanukkah because of her husband. In this fic, Erik and Reader are both teachers at Xavier's School, probably after Days of Future Past happened but with less shitty ending for Erik 😂 I also wanted to write a part when the baby is born but I decided the time difference between the scenes would be too big so I'll just write another fic 😁

WARNINGS — mentions of parents' death (Reader's backstory is similar to Jean Grey's)

WORD COUNT — 2,220

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

NEW MEMORIES

December has never been your favourite time of the year. Most of the time it was a reminder that you weren’t normal, that your life wasn’t usual and that whatever all these people in Christmas commercials had was out of your reach.

But in 1973, for the first time in your life, you were actually excited. And since Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters was open again, you had plenty of people to share your excitement with. Lots of students volunteered to help you with decorating the place for the upcoming Christmas and Hanukkah celebrations. That year was one of those when the two of them overlapped.

After all your classes on Friday, you worked on yet another room of the house with the help of a few students. When you finished it was almost ten pm so you told them goodnight and went straight to your bedroom. Erik was already there, reading a history book and making notes.

“What is it about?” you asked him with a smile as you began to take off your clothes. You were so tired that you decided to take a shower in the morning and now just change into pajamas.

“Napoleonic wars,” your husband answered without looking up. “I have a feeling he might have been one of us.”

“Aren’t we, like, a product of this century?” you asked and put a nightgown on. “Come on, it’s late, let’s go to sleep,” you stood behind him and placed your hands on his shoulders.

“I’ve only just begun,” he explained. “I need these notes for Monday.”

When you managed to convince Erik to join you at school and teach history, he was unsure about it but he promised to give it a try. Just like you promised you would leave with him to live in peace somewhere else if he wouldn’t like the life at Charles’ school. But one semester later he was already very engaged in his work. Students respected him although you could see that they were also a bit scared of him, which was understandable.

“You’ve just begun?” you laughed a little.

“I was playing chess with Charles earlier,” Erik answered with a nod and hummed after underlining a line in the book.

“Is this why you’re so tense?” you asked as you slightly squeezed his stiff shoulders. “Did you lose?”

“I’m not tense,” he tried to shake you off.

“Talk to me, Erik. It’s not gonna work if you refuse to talk to me,” you reminded him sternly and he sighed before putting the pencil down and closing the book. “We need to be open about what is bothering us, you promised me we’d make it work this time,” you added.

“Yes, I know. But I don’t want to hurt your feelings,” Erik turned his head around to look at your face. You took a step back and furrowed your brows.

“What do you mean, Erik?” you asked.

He hesitated before saying anything and a million of possible scenarios started to come up to your mind.

“You don’t like it here?” You inquired. “You want us to move out?”

“No, it’s not about that… But…” Erik swallowed thickly and took a deep breath in. “I don’t like what you’re currently doing. I’m sorry. I don’t want to take your happiness out of it.”

“What am I currently doing?” you couldn’t understand what he was saying.

“Christmas and Hanukkah preparations,” he explained and you blinked a few times as your brain needed to process that information.

“Wait, what?!” you raised your voice a little. You didn’t want to scold him for expressing his feelings but you just couldn’t understand his reaction. “We’re going to celebrate for the first time in such a long time, and what’s more important, we’re not gonna be alone in this. We have our friends and students here. For the first time December is a positive time of the year to me… to us,” you tried to explain your point of view nervously. Erik was only looking at you and blinking slowly, patiently waiting for you to finish. “But I don’t do it for myself. I mostly am doing it for you, Erik. I wanted you to be happy, too. I wanted you to enjoy something that had been taken away from you a long time ago.”

“It reminds me of Hanukkahs with my parents,” he finally spoke up and you pursed your lips for a moment before opening your mouth again.

“So you don’t want to ever celebrate again?” you asked to be sure.

“No, I don’t think so,” he shook his head.

“Why can’t you let yourself be happy, why are you torturing yourself further? I don’t get it, I’m sorry,” you tried not to be irritated but you felt utterly disappointed. You sat on the edge of your bed and hid your face in your hands.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to be a killjoy.”

“Too late,” you murmured, fighting your tears back.

“I know that most of the students will be celebrating. I think I’ll just leave for a week somewhere. I have already discussed it with Charles and he said there are a few things I can do for him at that time,” Erik’s voice sounded casual like he was discussing business for you.

“You want to leave us during Christmas time?” you moved the hands off of your face and looked up at him angrily.

“(Y/N), please, I don’t want to fight about it…” Erik sighed. “Why can’t you just understand that I don’t want to…” he clenched his jaw and looked away. “I don’t want to create new memories like this because it would remove the ones I already have… with my mother.”

“And you think she wouldn’t want you to celebrate holidays with your new family? You don’t think she’d want you to be happy?” you stood up and looked down at him. You felt like a bitch but his explanation made you even angrier.

“I don’t know what she’d want because she’s dead!” He stood up and raised his voice.

“So, I won’t be able to celebrate ever?! Because you don’t want to create new memories?” you put your hands on your hips.

“I’m not forbidding you to celebrate.”

“I don’t want to celebrate without you, don’t you understand?!” you yelled and rolled your eyes. “And when our child is born, you won’t celebrate Hanukkah with them either?” you asked and then you closed your mouth quickly. Your anger made you reveal a few things too early.

“What child?” you could see Erik’s face becoming pale within a second. “(Y/N)?”

“It was supposed to be a Christmas surprise… But since you won’t even be here, I guess I can tell you now,” you shrugged your arms. “I’m pregnant,” you announced and turned around to avoid looking at his face. You were scared of his reaction.

You didn’t know how long it took him to finally do something. Was it a very long minute or was it ten minutes of a heavy silence between you two…?

“(Y/N), I’m sorry,” he finally whispered. Apologizing wasn’t his strong trait. You sensed him standing behind you and putting his hand on your shoulder shyly. You didn’t push him away but you didn’t lean back towards him as usual either. “For how long do you know?”

“Two weeks. It’s the second month,” you answered, your eyes focused on the wall in front of you as you tried to fight the tears back. “Are you even happy?” you dared to ask and your lower lip trembled because asking it out loud made your heart break.

You were trying to give him a normal life, to give him family and happiness, joy around Christmas time and all that. But he seemed to prefer to dwell on his past. You didn’t expect him to forget about his mother or about the pain, of course not. Your past wasn’t exactly pleasant either. But you wanted to be happy despite that, you wanted to have a family, you wanted a new start in life, another chance.

“Of course I am,” Erik answered and gently turned your body around so you would face him. However, you tried to avoid his eyes. “But I’m terrified,” he confessed.

“And you think I am not?” you looked up eventually as a few tears rolled down your cheeks. “I’m a monster, Erik. You think I’m not scared of hurting them by accident?” you asked.

When you were about twelve years old, you caused your parents’ death after having an argument with them. Your powers were out of control and you were locked in a mental institution for underage girls by people who didn’t understand that you weren’t crazy nor really dangerous. That was where you met the person who made you realize who you were and who was the only person there who wouldn’t treat you like a monster; although that was the word you could easily call him with. His name was Sebastian Shaw – but he introduced himself as Doctor John Smith. He was experimenting on you for a few years and although it had been a traumatic experience, you learnt how to control your mutation thanks to him. That was also how you met Erik – he found you not so long after you turned eighteen years old and left the institution. You started to work as a waitress and he was hunting for the man who had used your pain and suffering to perform experiments on you to deepen his knowledge about the various mutations. You decided to join Erik because your life didn’t seem to have any purpose anyway.

“You’re not a monster,” he sighed and pulled you closer to wrap his arms around you. With one of his hands he held the back of your head and caressed your hair. “You were just a child and now you’re older, you can control your powers. You’re extraordinary,” he whispered the words of comfort and kissed your forehead. “I’m not scared about you hurting our baby, I would never. I trust you with my life,” he assured you and it was comforting to hear that.

“Creating new memories doesn’t wipe out the old ones,” you cried out and pressed your face deeper into his chest. “Believe me, I wish it worked this way. I wish I could forget. I begged Charles to make me forget but he refused to do it to me,” you confessed and Erik raised your chin to make you look at him again. He hadn’t known about that before.

“You haven’t told me that,” his face was full of pain and worry.

“It was when you were in jail. I begged Charles to remove all the pain, the memory of my parents, the memory of Shaw… Even you. I begged him to even remove you from my head. But he told me I wouldn’t be myself any longer. He was right and I hate that. I hate that what I am is made of pain and suffering,” you sniffled. “That’s why I want to make good memories so badly, do you understand? I want to celebrate with you like we never have before. I want to laugh and feel safe. Like I belong somewhere, surrounded with friends and students, with my husband by my side and my baby growing inside of me. Do you understand my point of view now, Erik?” you bit on your trembling lip.

“Yes, my liebling, I do,” he nodded and leaned in to kiss your forehead and then the tip of your nose, which made you giggle through the tears, until eventually he pecked your lips.

“But I don’t want to force you either,” you sighed. Now, when all your emotions were finally out and you calmed yourself down, you decided there was no point in pushing him into something that would make him feel uncomfortable. “If you don’t want to celebrate, it’s alright. We both have our right to deal with whatever that has happened to us in our own ways. I’ll still have fun with all the rest, don’t worry about me,” you assured him.

“No, you were right. About me choosing to torture myself instead of allowing myself to enjoy my life,” Erik caressed your cheek and you cracked a smile. “And I can’t miss my child’s first Hanukkah either.”

“I want them to have a happy childhood,” you told him. “Like we never had.”

“I know. I do, too,” Erik placed his hand on your belly and caressed it gently, like it was made of glass. “I will protect them from everything, I promise. No human will hurt our baby.”

You smiled at him and cupped his face before leaning in to give him a proper kiss this time.

But you didn’t tell him that what you feared more than humans hurting your child was actually the child turning out to be perfectly normal. You were afraid that a man so prejudiced towards humans as your husband wouldn’t love his child fully if they weren’t a mutant. You couldn’t tell him that, though. You didn’t want to fight with him anymore that night. Instead, you just kissed him. After all, you’d still have a few years before you’d find out if the baby was a mutant or not.

MASTERLIST

[ftmslvtt]

SMALL INTRODUCTION/PINNED POST

Hello! I'm a 22 yo trans man (he/him) from EU (Poland), fluent in english but it's not my native language. On T for years but no surgeries as of now.

I like to be androgynous.

(Made this blog to be a little freak online :p)

(I usually don't tag my reposts so beware if you don't like any of the things mentioned below)

if u can, i appreciate any tips :))

https://ko-fi.com/mslvtty

NOT INTO:

detrans,

misgendering (like being girly, not necessarily a girl 🤷)

throat fucking,

pregnancy,

pain,

scat,

piss,

violence,

gore (just blood is ok, depends on presentation lol)

or other similar ones

INTO:

creampies,

breeding&impregnation,

exhibitionism,

body worship/worship kink,

dirty talk,

teasing,

feminization,

objectification,

dumbification,

getting clocked as trans? (idk how else to put it lol),

size difference,

manhandling,

forced submission,

praise kink,

daddy/mommy kink,

"inspections",

pet names,

intox,

somno,

acting bratty&brat taming

humiliation (sometimes)

squirting,

age gaps,

i enjoy when people refer to my body in mostly fem terms so pussy/cunt/cunny/hole/clit/clitty/other similar terms BUT mixing up a boycunt/boycunny/boytits/cock/t-cock/chest in there is great, adding some cute adjectives to it is amazing!

verbal praise and degeneration terms i like: pretty/baby/sweet/atta/good boy, sweetie, sweetheart, cutie, son, my boy, stupid, silly, dumb, slut, whore, bitch, fag, tranny, brat, cumdump, toy, doll (mixing up these terms with adjectives like cute, little, pretty, sweet, needy, tiny is great!)

YOU WILL SOMETIMES SEE:

fauxcest (dad/trans son, mom/trans son)

pet play (catboy!!!),

royalty kink,

CNC, r@pe, free use

god complex,

religious kink/priest kink,

roleplay (teacher/student, doctor/patient, prince/anyone and prob more, i love roleplay its fun)

trans supremacy,

ASKs and DMs welcome! (sometimes i might not reply to dms tho lol)

(all my photos have a #me)

(txt post that are more nsft have a #smutty)

(txt post that are more silly have a #my post)

(all my ask answers have a #asks)

[coinandcandle]

Coin's Resources for Research

Here's a list of my personal favorite resources for researching witchcraft, magic, and the occult!

Websites

Sacred Texts - This site is a collection of electronic texts about religion, mythology, legends and folklore, and occult and esoteric topics. Almost all of it is in the English language (translated) and when possible they give the original language (which is quite often)!

Jstor - Home to thousands of scholarly content. While there are limitations to the open and free content on the site, they still have quite a lot to offer! If you can afford the paid version I highly suggest you do so.

Wikipedia - I don't care what your high school lit teacher told you, Wikipedia is a great resource and a wonderful way to find where to start when you're learning a new topic. 

Encyclopedia Britannica - A fact-checked online encyclopedia with hundreds of thousands of objective articles, biographies, videos, and more.

Hoopla - A digital library where you can borrow books, audio books, and more! It's connected to your local library so make sure you get a library card!

Libby - Same situation as Hoopla.

Worldcat - A website that helps you track down reliable sources that you can only find in libraries.

PDFDrive - A website with thousands of free pdfs. It doesn't always have what I'm looking for but it's always worth a shot to check!

Youtube

Esoterica - Run by Dr. Justin Sledge, Esoterica is a channel that discusses the arcane in history, philosophy, and religion.

Angela's Symposium - Dr. Angela Puca's channel where she covers peer-reviewed research and scholarship on magic, witches, esoteric traditions, the occult, Paganism, shamanism and related currents.

ReligionForBreakfast - Dr. Andrew M. Henry's channel that discusses--you guessed it--religion! His goal is to improve the public's religious literacy by exploring humanity's beliefs and rituals through an anthropological, sociological, and archaeological lens. 

Misc

Ronald Hutton - Hutton is an invaluable resource and a fantastic historian. He writes the facts without being pretentious and is often quite funny too! 

Wiki's List of Occult Writers

Wiki's List of Occult Terms